“I promise,” said Earwig, impressed by Caramon’s
pale and solemn face.
“Good.” Turning, Caramon continued down the
corridor and came up in back of the knight.
“What’s happening?” Earwig writhed with frustration.
“I can’t see a thing from here. But I promised. I know! He
didn’t mean me to say HERE, in this one spot. He just
meant me to stay here – in the keep!” Happily, the kender
crept forward, Caramon’s dagger (which he had
appropriated) in his hand.
“Oh, my!” breathed Earwig. “Caramon, can you see
what I see?”
Caramon could. On one side of the hall, their bodies
encased in shining armor, their hands grasping swords,
stood a troop of knights. On the other side stood an army
of wizards, their robes fluttering around them as if stirred
by a hot wind. The knights and the wizards had turned
their faces toward the strangers who had entered, and
Caramon saw in horror that each one of them was a rotting
corpse.
A knight materialized in front of his troops. This
knight, too, was dead. The marks of his numerous wounds
could be seen plainly on his body. Fear swept over
Caramon, and he shrank back against the wall, but the
knight paid no attention either to him or the transfixed
kender standing by his side. The fixed and staring eyes of
the corpse looked straight at Gawain.
“Fellow knight, I call upon you, by the Oath and the
Measure, to come to my aid against my enemy.”
The dead knight gestured and there appeared, standing
some distance from him, a wizard clad in red robes that
were torn and stained black with blood. The wizard, too,
was dead and had, it seemed from his wounds, died most
horribly.
Earwig started forward. “I’ll fight on your side if
you’ll teach me how to cast spells!”
Caramon, catching hold of the kender by the scruff of
his neck, lifted him off his feet and tossed him backward.
Slamming into the wall, the kender slid down to the floor
where he spent an entertaining few moments attempting to
breathe. Caramon reached out a shaking hand.
“Gawain, let’s get out of – ”
The knight thrust Caramon’s hand aside and, kneeling
on one knee, started to lay his sword at the knight’s feet. “I
will come to your aid, Sir Knight!”
“Caramon, stop him!” The hissing whisper slid over
stone and through shadow. “Stop him or we ourselves are
doomed!”
“No!” said the dead knight, his fiery eyes seeming to
see Caramon for the first time. “Join my fight! Or are you
a coward?”
“Coward!” Caramon glowered. “No man dares call me
– ”
“Listen to me, my brother!” Raistlin commanded.
“For my sake, if for no other or I will be lost, too!”
Caramon cast a fearful look at the dead wizard, saw
the mage’s empty eyes fixed on Raistlin. The dead knight
was leaning down to lift Gawain’s sword. Lurching
forward on stiff legs, Caramon kicked the weapon with
his foot and sent it spinning across the stone floor.
The dead knight howled in rage. Gawain jumped up
and ran to retrieve his weapon. Caramon, with a desperate
lunge, managed to grab hold of the knight by the
shoulders. Gawain whirled around and struck at him with
his bare hands. The legion of dead knights clattered their
swords against their shields, the wizards raised their
hollow voices in a cheer that grew louder when Raistlin
entered the room.
“What an interesting experience,” said Earwig, feeling
to see if any ribs were cracked. Finding himself in one
piece, he rose to his feet and looked to see what was
going on. “My goodness, someone’s lost a sword. I’ll just
go pick it up.”
“Wizard of the Red Robes!” The dead were shouting
at Raistlin. “Join us in our fight!”
Caramon caught a glimpse of his brother’s face from
the comer of his eye. Tense and excited, Raistlin was
staring at the wizards, a fierce, eager light in his golden
eyes.
“Raist! No!” Caramon lost his hold on Gawain.
The knight clouted him on the jaw, sending the big
warrior to the floor, and bounded after the sword, only to
find Earwig clutching it tightly, a look of radiant joy on