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Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

Tanis jumped in front of the knight, keeping their foes back until Sturm could stanch the flow of blood.

“Raistlin told us-” Tanis began.

“Raistlin! Hah! Look at his robes, Tanis!”

“But you’re here! In Silvanesti!” Tanis protested in confusion.. He had the strangest feeling he was arguing with himself. “Alhana said you were in Ice Wall!”

The knight shrugged. “Perhaps I was sent to help you.”

All right. It’s a dream, Tanis told himself. I will wake up.

But there was no change. The elves were still there, still fighting. Sturm must be right. Raistlin had lied. Just as he had lied before they entered the forest. But why? To what purpose?

Then Tanis knew. The dragon orb!

“We’ve got to reach the Tower before Raistlin!” Tanis cried to Sturm. “I know what the mage is after!”

The knight could do nothing more than nod. It seemed to Tanis that from then on they did nothing but fight for every inch of ground they gained. Time and again, the two warriors forced the elven undead back, only to be attacked in ever increasing numbers. Time passed, they knew, but they had no conception of its passing. One moment the sun shone through the stifling green haze. Then night’s shadows hovered over the land like the wings of dragons.

Then, just as the darkness deepened, Sturm and Tanis saw the Tower. Built of marble, the tall Tower glistened white. It stood alone in a clearing, reaching up to the heavens like -a skeletal finger clawing up from the grave.

At sight of the Tower, both men began to run. Though weak and exhausted, neither wanted to be in these deadly woods after nightfall. The elven warriors-seeing their prey escaping-screamed in rage and charged after them.

Tanis ran until it seemed his lungs would burst with pain. Sturm ran ahead of him, slashing at the undead who appeared before them, trying to block their path. Just as Tanis neared the Tower, he felt a tree root twist itself around his boot. He pitched headlong onto the ground.

Frantically Tanis fought to free himself, but the root held him fast. Tanis struggled helplessly as an undead elf, his face twisted grotesquely, raised a spear to drive it through Tanis’s body. Suddenly the elf’s eyes widened, the spear fell from nerveless fingers as a sword punctured its transparent body. The elf vanished with a shriek.

Tanis looked up to see who had saved his life. It was a strange warrior, strange-yet familiar. The warrior removed his helm, and Tanis stared into bright brown eyes!

“Kitiara!” he gasped in shock. “You’re here! How? Why?”

“I heard you needed some help.” Kit said, her crooked smile as charming as ever. “Seems I was right.” She reached out her hand. He grasped it, doubting as she pulled him to his feet. But she was flesh and blood. “Who’s that ahead? Sturm? Wonderful! Like old times! Shall we go to the Tower?” she asked Tanis, laughing at the surprise on his face.

Riverwind fought alone, battling legions of undead elven warriors. He knew he could not take much more. Then he heard a clear call. Raising his eyes, he saw Que-shu tribesmen! He cried out joyfully. But, to his horror, he saw them turning their arrows upon him.

“No?” he shouted in Que-shu. “Don’t you recognize me? I…”

The Que-shu warriors answered only with their bow strings. Riverwind felt shaft after feathered shaft sink in his body.

“You brought the blue crystal staff among us!” they cried. “Your fault! The destruction of our village was your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to.” he whispered as he slumped to the ground. “I didn’t know. Forgive me.”

Tika hacked and slashed her way through elven warriors only to see them turn suddenly intro draconians! Their reptile eyes gleamed red, their tongues licked their swords. Fear chilled the barmaid. Stumbling, she bumped into Sturm. Angrily the knight whirled, ordering her out of his way. She staggered back and jostled Flint. The dwarf impatiently shoved her aside.

Blinded by tears, panic-stricken at the sight of the draconians, who sprang back into battle full-grown from their own dead bodies, Tika, lost control. In her fear, she stabbed wildly at anything that moved.

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Categories: Weis, Margaret
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