Tanis put his hand on Riverwind’s arm. “The elves have a saying, ‘Only the dead are without fear.’ ”
Riverwind startled him by suddenly clasping the half-elf’s hand with his. “I have never known an elf,” the Plainsman said. “My people distrust them, saying that the elves have no care for Krynn or for humans. I think my people may have been mistaken. I am glad I met you, Tanis of Qualinost. I count you as a friend.”
Tanis knew enough of Plains lore to realize that, with this statement, Riverwind had declared himself willing to sacrifice everything for the half-elf-even his life. A vow of friendship was a solemn vow among the Plainsmen. “You are my friend, too, Riverwind,” Tanis said simply. “You and Goldmoon both are my friends.”
Riverwind turned his eyes to Goldmoon who stood near them, leaning on her staff, her eyes closed, her face drawn with pain and exhaustion. Riverwind’s face softened with compassion as he looked at her. Then it hardened, pride drawing the stem mask over it again.
“Xak Tsaroth is not far off,” he said coolly. “And these tracks are old.” He led the way into the jungle. After only a short walk, the northern trail suddenly changed to cobblestones.
“A street!” exclaimed Tasslehoff.
“The outskirts of Xak Tsaroth!” Raistlin breathed.
“About time!” Flint stared all around in disgust. “What a mess! If the greatest gift ever given to man is here, it must be well hidden!”
Tanis agreed. He had never seen a more dismal place. As they walked, the broad street took them into an open paved courtyard. To the east stood four tall, free-standing columns that supported nothing; the building lay in ruins around them. A huge unbroken circular stone wall rose about four feet above the ground. Caramon, going over to inspect it, announced that it was a well.
“Deep at that,” he said. He leaned over and peered down into it. “Smells bad, too.”
North of the well stood what appeared to be the only building to have escaped the destruction of the Cataclysm. It was finely constructed of pure white stone, supported by tall, slender columns. Large golden double doors gleamed in the moonlight.
“That was a temple to the ancient gods,” Raistlin said, more to himself than anyone else. But Goldmoon, standing near him, heard his soft whisper.
“A temple?” she repeated, staring at the building. “How beautiful.” She walked toward it, strangely fascinated.
Tanis and the rest searched the grounds and found no other buildings intact. Fluted columns lay on the ground, their broken pieces aligned to show their former beauty. Statues lay broken and, in some cases, grotesquely defaced. Everything was old, so old it made even the dwarf feel young.
Flint sat down on a column. “Well, we’re here.” He blinked at Raistlin and yawned. “What now, mage?”
Raistlin’s thin lips parted, but before he could reply, Tasslehoff yelled, “Draconian!”
Everyone spun around, weapons in their hands. A draconian, ready to move, was glaring at them from the edge of the well.
“Stop it!” Tani’s shouted. “It will alert others!”
But before anyone could reach it, the draconian spread its wings and flew into the well. Raistlin, his golden eyes flaring in the moonlight, ran to the well and peered over the edge. Raising his hand as if to cast a spell, he hesitated, then dropped his hand limply to his side. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. I must sleep!”
“We’re all tired,” Tanis said wearily. “If something’s down there, it warned it. There’s nothing we can do now. We’ve got to rest.”
“It has gone to warn something,” Raistlin whispered. He huddled in his cloak and stared around, his eyes wide. “Can’t you feel it? Any of you? Half-Elf? Evil about to waken and come forth.”
Silence fell.
Then Tasslehoff climbed up on the stone wall and peered down. “Look! The draconian is floating down, just like a leaf. His wings don’t flap-”
“Be quiet!” Tanis snapped.
Tasslehoff glanced at the half-elf in surprise-Tanis’s voice sounded strained and unnatural. The half-elf was staring at the well, his hands clenching nervously. Everything was still. Too still. The storm clouds massed to the north, but there was no wind. Not a branch creaked, not a leaf stirred. The silver moon and the red cast twin shadows that made things seen from the corner of the eye unreal and distorted.