They hadn’t gone far when Riverwind missed a step and plunged knee-deep into muck. After Tanis and Caramon dragged the Plainsman out of the water, Tasslehoff crept ahead, testing the ground with his hoopak staff. It sank every time.
“We have no choice but to wade,” Riverwind said grimly.
Choosing a path where the water seemed shallower, the company left firm ground and splashed into the muck. At first it was only ankle deep, then they sank to their knees. Soon they sank deeper still; Tanis was forced to carry Tasslehoff, the giggling kender grasping him around the neck. Flint steadfastly refused all offers of help, even when the tip of his beard got wet. Then he vanished. Caramon, following him, fished the dwarf out of the water and slung him over his shoulder like a wet sack, the dwarf too tired and frightened to grumble. Raistlin staggered, coughing, through the water, his robes dragging him down. Weary and still sick from the poison, the mage finally collapsed. Sturm grabbed hold of him and half-dragged, half-carried the mage through the swamp.
After an hour of floundering in the icy water, they finally reached firm ground and sank down to rest, shivering with the cold.
The trees began to creak and groan, their branches bending as a sharp wind sprang up from the north. The wind blew the mists into wispy rags. Raistlin, lying on the ground, looked up. The mage caught his breath. He sat up, alarmed.
“Storm clouds.” He choked, coughing, and fought to speak. “They come from the north. We have no time. No time! We must reach Xak Tsaroth. Hurry! Before the moon sets!”
Everyone looked up. A gathering darkness was moving out of the north, swallowing up the stars. Tanis could feel the same sense of urgency that was driving the mage. Wearily, he rose to his feet. Without a word, the rest of the group rose and stumbled forward, Riverwind taking the lead. But dark swamp water blocked their path once more.
“Not again!” Flint moaned.
“No, we do not have to wade again. Come look,” Riverwind said. He led the way to the water’s edge. There, amid many other ruins protruding from the dank ground, lay an obelisk that had either fallen or been pushed over to form a bridge across to the other bank of the swamp.
“I’ll go first,” Tas volunteered, hopping energetically onto the long stone. “Hey, there’s writing on this thing. Runes of some sort.”
“I must see!” Raistlin whispered, hurrying over. He spoke his word of command, “Shirak’,’ and the crystal on the tip of his staff burst into light.
“Hurry!” Sturm growled. “You’ve just told everything within a twenty-mile radius we’re here.”
But Raistlin would not be rushed. He held the light over the spidery runes, studying them intently. Tanis and the others climbed onto the obelisk and joined the mage.
The kender bent down, tracing the runes with his small hand. “What does it say, Raistlin? Can you read it? The language seems very old.”
“It is old,” the mage whispered. “It dates from before the Cataclysm. The runes say, ‘The Great City of Xak Tsaroth, whose beauty Surrounds you, speaks to the good of its people and their generous deeds. The gods reward us in the grace of our home.’ ”
“How awful!” Goldmoon shuddered, looking at the ruin and desolation around her.
“The gods rewarded them indeed,” Raistlin said, his lips parting in a cynical smile. No one spoke. Then Raistlin whispered,
“Durakc” and extinguished the light. Suddenly the night seemed much blacker. “We must keep going,” the mage said. “Surely there is more than a fallen monument to mark what this place once stood for.”
They crossed the obelisk into thick jungle. At first there seemed to be no trail, then Riverwind, searching diligently, found a trail cut through the vines and the trees. He bent down to study it. His face was grim when he rose.
“Draconians?” Tanis asked.
“Yes,” he said heavily. “The tracks of many clawed feet. And they lead north, straight to the city.”
Tanis asked in an undertone, “Is this the broken city-where you were given the staff?”
“And where death had black wings,” Riverwind added. He closed his eyes, wiping his hand over his face. Then he drew a deep, ragged breath. “I don’t know. I can’t remember-but I am afraid without knowing why.”