rimmed eyes and reached out a small hand, resting it on the
warrior’s once-strong arm.
“Caramon, you’re the only one who’s been through here!
You’re the only one who knows the way. And, there’s some-
thing else.” Tas pointed. Caramon turned his head. “You asked
about Lady Crysania. There she is. She’s alive, but she’s dead at
the same time. Her skin is like ice. Her eyes are fixed in a terri-
ble stare. She’s breathing, her heart’s beating, but it might just
as well be pumping through her body that spicy stuff the elves
use to preserve their dead!” The kender drew a deep, quivering
breath.
“We’ve got to get help for her, Caramon. Maybe in there” –
Tas pointed to the Forest – “the mages can help her! I can’t
carry her.” He raised his hands helplessly. “I need you, Cara-
mon. She needs you! I guess you could say you owe it to her.”
“Since it’s my fault she’s hurt?” Caramon muttered savagely.
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Tas said, hanging his head and
brushing his hand across his eyes. “It’s no one’s fault, I guess.”
“No, it is my fault,” Caramon said. Tas glanced up at him,
hearing a note in Caramon’s voice he hadn’t heard in a long,
long time. The big man stood, staring at the bottle in his hands.
“It’s time I faced up to it. I’ve blamed everyone else – Raistlin,
Tika…. But all the time I knew – deep inside – it was me. It
came to me, in that dream. I was lying at the bottom of a grave,
and I realized – this is the bottom! I can’t go any lower. I either
stay here and let them throw dirt on top of me – just like I was
going to bury Crysania – or I climb out.” Caramon sighed, a
long, shuddering sigh. Then, in sudden resolution, he put the
cork on the bottle and handed it back to Tas. “Here,” he said
softly. “It’s going to be long climb, and I’m going to need help, I
expect. But not that kind of help.”
“Oh, Caramon!” Tas threw his arms around the big man’s
waist as far as he could reach, hugging him tightly. “I wasn’t
afraid of that spooky wood, not really. But I was wondering
how I was going to get through by myself. Not to mention Lady
Crysania and – Oh, Caramon! I’m so glad you’re back! I -”
“There, there,” Caramon muttered, flushing in embarrass-
ment and shoving Tasslehoff gently away from him. “It’s all
right. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be – I was scared to death
the first time I went into that place. But, you’re right. Maybe
they can help Crysania.” Caramon’s face hardened. “Maybe
they can answer a few questions I have about Raist, too. Now,
where’s that gully dwarf gotten to? And” – he glanced down at
his belt – “where’s my dagger?”
“What dagger?” Tas asked, skipping around, his gaze on the
Forest.
Reaching out, his face grim, Caramon caught hold of the
kender. His gaze went to Tas’s belt. Tas’s followed. His eyes
opened wide in astonishment.
“You mean that dagger? My goodness, I wonder how it got
there?You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll bet you dropped it,
during the fight.”
“Yeah,” Caramon muttered. Growling, he retrieved his dag-
ger and was just putting it back into its sheath when he heard a
noise behind him. Whirling around in alarm, he got a bucketful
of icy water, right in the face.
“Him awake now,” Bupu announced complacently, dropping
the bucket.
While drying his clothes, Caramon sat and studied the trees,
his face drawn with the pain of his memories. Finally, heaving a
sigh, he dressed, checked his weapons, then stood up.
Instantly, Tasslehoff was right next to him.
“Let’s go!” he said eagerly.
Caramon stopped. “Into the Forest? he asked in a hopeless
voice.
“Well, of course!” Tas said, startled. “Where else?
Caramon scowled, then sighed, then shook his head. “No,
Tas,” he said gruffly. “You stay here with Lady Crysania. Now,
look,” he said in answer to the kender’s indignant squawk of
protest, “I’m just going into the Forest for a little ways – to, er,