Dragons of Winter Noght by Weis, Margaret

Only when she looked up and saw Raistlin standing before her in his black robes did she come to her senses. The mage said nothing, he simply pointed downward. Flint laid dead at her feet, pierced by her own sword.

I led them here. Flint thought. This is my responsibility. I’m the eldest. I’ll get them out.

The dwarf hefted his battle-axe and yelled a challenge to the elven warriors before him. But they just laughed.

Angrily. Flint strode forward – only to find himself walking stiffly. His knee joints were swollen. and hurt abominably. His gnarled fingers trembled with a palsy that made him lose his grip on the battle-axe. His breath came short. And then Flint knew why the elves weren’t attacking: they were letting old age finish him.

Even as he realized flays., Flint felt his mind begin to wander. His vision blurred. Patting his vest packet, he wondered where he had put those confounded spectacles. A shape loomed before him, a familiar shape. Was it Tika? Without his glasses, he couldn’t see…

Goldmoon ran among the twisted, tortured trees. Lost and alone, she searched desperately for her friends. Far away, she heard Riverwind calling for her above the ringing clash of swords. Then she heard his call cut off in a bubble of agony. Frantically she dashed forward, fighting her way through the brambles until her hands and face were bleeding. At last she found Riverwind. The warrior lay upon the ground, pierced by many arrows-arrows she recognised!

Running to him, she knelt beside him. “Heal him, Mishakal.” she prayed, as she had prayed so often.

But nothing happened. The color did not return to Riverwind’s ashen face. His eyes remained locked, staring fixedly into the green-tinged sky.

“Why don’t you answer? Heal him!” Goldmoon cried to the gods. And then she knew. “No!” she screamed. “Punish me! I am the one who has doubted. l’am the one who has questioned! I saw Tarsis destroyed, children dying in agony! How could you allow that? I toy to have faith, but I cannot help doubting when I see such horrors! Do not punish him.” Weeping, she bent over the lifeless body of her husband. She did not see the elven warriors closing in around her.

Tasslehoff, fascinated by the horrible wonders around him, wandered off the path, and there discovered that-somehow his friends had managed to lose him. The undead did not bother him. They who fed of fear felt no fear in his small body.

Finally, after roaming here and there for nearly a day, the kender reached the doors to the Tower of the Stars. Here his lighthearted journey came to a sudden halt, for he had found his friends-one of them at least.

Sacked up against the closed doors, Tika fought for her life against a host of misshapen, nightmare-begotten foes. Tas saw that if she could get inside the Tower, she would be safe. Dashing forward, his small body flitting easily through the melee, then reached the door and began to examine the lock while Tika held the elves back with her wildly swinging sword.

“Hurry, Tas!” she cried breathlessly.

It was an easy lock to open; with such a simplistic trap to protect it, Tas was surprised that the elves even bothered.

“I should have this lock picked in seconds,” he announced. Just as he set to work, however, something bumped him from behind, causing him to fumble.

“Hey!” he shocked at Tika irritably, turning around. “Be a little more careful-” He stopped short, horrified. Tika lay at his feet, blood flowing into her red curls.

“No, not Tika!” Tas whispered. Maybe she was only wounded! Maybe if he got her inside the Tower, someone could help her. Tears dimmed his vision, his hands shook.

I’ve got to hurry, Tas thought frantically. Why won’t this open? It’s so simple. Furious, he tore at the lock.

He felt a small prick in his finger just as the lock clicked. The door to the Tower began to swing open. But Tasslehoff just stared at his finger where a tiny spot of blood glistened. He looked back at the lock where a small, golden needle sparkled. A simple lock, a simple trap. He’d sprung them both. And, as the first effects of the poison surged with a terrible warmness through his body, he looked down to see he was too late. Tika was dead.