Tanis was not the only gloomy member of the group. Tika walked beside Caramon, her red curls a bright spot of warmth and light in the gray day. But the light was only in the vibrant red of her hair, it had gone out of her eyes. Although Caramon was unfailingly kind to her, he had not held her since that wonderful, brief moment beneath the sea when his love had been hers. This made her angry in the long nights-he had used her, she decided, simply to ease his own pain. She vowed she would leave him when this was over. There was a wealthy young nobleman in Kalaman who had not been able to take his eyes off her… But those were night thoughts. During the day, when Tika glanced at Caramon, and saw him plodding along next to her, his head bowed, her heart melted. Gently she touched him. Looking up at her quickly, he smiled. Tika sighed. So much for wealthy young noblemen.
Flint stumped along, rarely speaking, never complaining. If Tanis had not been wrapped up in his own inner turmoil, he would have noted this as a bad sign.
As for Berem, no one knew what he was thinking-if anything. He seemed to grow more nervous and wary the farther they traveled. The blue eyes that were too young for his face darted here and there like those of a trapped animal.
It was on the second day in the mountains that Berem vanished.
Everyone had been more cheerful in the morning, when Fizban announced that they should arrive in Godshome soon. But gloom quickly followed. The rain grew heavier. Three times in one hour the old mage led them plunging through the brush with excited cries of “This is it! Here we are!” only to find themselves in a swamp, a gorge, and-finally-staring at a rock wall.
It was this last time-the dead end-that Tanis felt his soul start to rip from his body. Even Tasslehoff fell back in alarm at the sight of the half-elf’s rage-distorted face. Desperately Tanis fought to hold himself together, and it was then he noticed.
“Where’s Berem?” he asked, a sudden chill freezing his anger.
Caramon blinked, seemingly coming back from some distant world. The big warrior looked around hastily, then turned to face Tanis, his face flushed with shame. “I-I dunno, Tanis. I-I thought he was next to me.”
“He’s our only way into Neraka,” the half-elf said through clenched teeth, “and he’s the only reason they’re keeping Laurana alive. If they catch him-”
Tanis stopped, sudden tears choking him. Desperately he tried to think, despite the blood pounding in his head.
“Don’t worry, lad,” Flint said gruffly, patting the half-elf on the arm. “We’ll find him.”
“I’m sorry, Tanis,” Caramon mumbled. “I was thinking about-about Raist. I-I know I shouldn’t-”
“How in the name of the Abyss does that blasted brother of yours work mischief when he’s not even here!” Tanis shouted. Then he caught himself. “I’m sorry, Caramon,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “Don’t blame yourself. I should have been watching, too. We all should have. We’ve got to backtrack anyway, unless Fizban can take us through solid rock … no, don’t even consider it, old man…. Berem can’t have gone far and his trail should be easy to pick up. He’s not skilled in wood-lore.”
Tanis was right. After an hour tracing back their own footsteps, they discovered a small animal trail none of them had noticed in passing. It was Flint who saw the man’s tracks in the mud. Calling excitedly to the others, the dwarf plunged into the brush, following the clearly marked trail easily. The rest hurried after him, but the dwarf seemed to have experienced an unusual surge of energy. Like a hunting hound who knows the prey is just ahead of him, Flint trampled over tangleshoot vines and hacked his way through the undergrowth without pause. He quickly outdistanced them.
“Flint!” Tanis shouted more than once. “Wait up!”
But the group fell farther and farther behind the excited dwarf until they lost sight of him altogether. Flint’s trail proved even clearer than Berem’s, however. They had little difficulty following the print of the dwarf’s heavy boots, not to mention the broken tree limbs and uprooted vines that marked his passing.
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