Then, slowly, Raistlin backed away from the well, raising his hands before him as if to ward off some dreadful danger.
“I feel it too.” Tanis swallowed. “What is it?”
“Yes, what is it?” Tasslehoff, leaning over, stared eagerly into the well. It looked as deep and dark as the mage’s hourglass eye.
“Get him away from there!” Raistlin cried.
Tanis, infected by the mage’s fear and his own growing sense that something was terribly wrong, started to run for Tas. Even as he began to move, though, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. The kender gave a startled cry as the ancient stone wall of the well cracked and gave way beneath him. Tas felt himself sliding into the terrible blackness below him. He scrabbled frantically with his hands and feet, trying to clutch the crumbling rocks. Tanis lunged desperately, but he was too far away.
Riverwind had started moving when he heard Raistlin’s cry, and the tall man’s long, swift strides carried him quickly to the well. Catching hold of Tas by his collar, the Plainsman plucked him from the wall just as the stones and mortar tumbled down into the blackness below.
The ground trembled again. Tanis tried to force his numb mind to figure out what was happening. Then a blast of cold air burst from the well. The wind swept dirt and leaves from the courtyard into the air, stinging his face and eyes.
“Run!” Tanis tried to yell, but he choked on the foul stench erupting from the well.
The columns left standing after the Cataclysm began to shake. The companions stared fearfully at the well. Then Riverwind tore his gaze away. “Goldmoon . . .” he said, looking around. He dropped Tas to the ground. “Goldmoon!” He stopped as a high-pitched shriek rose from the depths of the well. The sound was so loud and shrill that it pierced the head.
Riverwind searched frantically for Goldmoon, calling her name.
Tanis was stunned by the noise. Unable to move, he saw Sturm, hand on his sword, slowly back away from the well. He saw Raistlin-the mage’s ghastly face glistening metallic yellow, his golden eyes red in the red moon’s light-scream something Tanis couldn’t hear. He saw Tasslehoff staring at the well in wide-eyed wonder. Sturm ran across the courtyard, scooped up the kender under one arm, and ran on to the trees. Caramon ran to his exhausted brother, caught him up, and headed for cover. Tanis knew some monstrous evil was coming up out of the well, but he could not move. The words “run, fool, run” screamed in his brain. Riverwind, too, stayed near the well, fighting the fear that was growing within him; he couldn’t find Goldmoon! Distracted by rescuing the kender from tumbling into the well, he had not seen Goldmoon approach the unbroken temple. He looked around wildly, struggling to keep his balance as the ground shook beneath his feet. The high-pitched shrieking noise, the throbbing and trembling of the ground, brought back hideous, nightmarish memories. “Death on black wings.” He began to sweat and shake, then forced his mind to concentrate on Goldmoon. She needed him; he knew-and he alone knew-that her show of strength only masked her fear, doubt, uncertainty. She would be terribly afraid, and he had to find her.
As the stones of the well began to slide, Riverwind moved away and caught sight of Tanis. The half-elf was shouting and pointing past Riverwind toward the temple. Riverwind knew Tanis was saying something, but he couldn’t hear above the shrieking sound. Then he knew! Goldmoon! Riverwind turned to go to her, but he lost his balance and fell to his knees. He saw Tanis start to run toward him.
Then the horror burst from the well-the horror of his fevered nightmares. Riverwind closed his eyes and saw no more.
It was a dragon.
Tanis, in those first few moments when the blood seemed to drain from his body, leaving him limp and lifeless, looked at the dragon as it burst forth from the well and thought, “How beautiful . . . how beautiful. . . .”
Sleek and black, the dragon rose, her glistening wings folded close to her sides, her scales gleaming. Her eyes glowed red-black, the color of molten rock. Her mouth opened in a snarl, teeth flashing white and wicked. Her long, red tongue curled as she breathed the night air. Clear of the well’s confines, the dragon spread her wings, blotting out stars, obliterating moon-light. Each wing was tipped with a pure, white claw that shone blood-red in the light of Lunitari.