breathe or scream. They’d found me; the hobgoblins had
found me. But how in the Abyss did they do that? I never
heard them coming. I stood there like an idiot, looking
down at the arrow shaft and wondering why the
hobgoblins weren’t now calling out in alarm. The shock
and pain of being hit was too much to take. I couldn’t
think.
Something prickly and cold spread through my
bloodstream from the wound. The pain ceased and
became a cloud of nothingness, as if my chest had
disappeared. My will broke then and I tried to scream, but
I couldn’t inhale. It seemed like a huge weight pressed
against my rib cage, keeping out the air. I slumped back
against the rock face, my vision swimming, my hands
clutching the wound.
It came to me then that I was going to die. There was
nothing I could do. I didn’t want to die, not then, not ever.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to live.
For a moment I thought of Garayn and Klart. I could al
most see their faces before me.
The numbness reached my head. Everything became
very light and airy. I felt a rushing sensation, as if I were
falling.
This wasn’t right, came a mad thought. The
hobgoblins killed me. They’d killed my cousins, and now
they’d killed me. It wasn’t right, and I wanted them to pay
for it in the worst way.
That was my last mortal thought.
*****
I was having the worst of all nightmares, worse than
the red dreams I’d once had of Neraka. I dreamed I was
dead and buried. Ice-cold rain fell without end on me,
trickling down on lifeless flesh. My body was dead-numb,
my limbs chained down. I was hollow, a shell of nothing
in the earth. I fought to wake up or even move a muscle. I
begged the great gods of Krynn to let me wake up.
No one heard me.
I begged them for mercy. I pleaded for justice.
No voice spoke in the darkness.
Then I cursed them, I cursed the gods, and I cried for
revenge.
I became aware of a colorless light. Without thinking,
I opened my eyes, my lips still moving.
Gray clouds rolled swiftly above me, ragged-edged.
Cold droplets slapped my face and fell into my unblinking
eyes. I couldn’t move my limbs. I felt nothing, nothing at
all but the cold, and I listened to the drumming of the rain
against and around me.
The gray clouds rolled on for ages. The rain fell. Then
a weight seemed to fall away, and I knew I could sit up.
Very slowly, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself
upright. Every movement was unbalanced, and I swayed
dizzily until I braced myself with my arms. The tilting
scenery settled in my vision, and I looked around.
The landscape appeared odd in the rain-washed light,
but I was still at the foot of the rocky cliff. It was late in
the evening now. I didn’t know the day. The long grass of
the plain had been beaten down by rain some time ago. A
light wind blew across the field, rippling the bent and
broken stalks.
I sat there stupidly for a long time, then looked down
at myself.
The butt of an arrow was projecting from my chest.
After a few moments, I remembered how it got there, and
thought I was lucky that it hadn’t killed me.
Then, of course, I knew the truth.
I stared at the arrow for a long time. The rain
eventually slowed. All was quiet except for the cawing of
distant crows. I wasn’t afraid, only dully surprised. No
heartbeat sounded within me, no blood ran from my
wound. I felt surprised, but nothing more.
I hated looking at the arrow in me. It wasn’t right. It
ought to come out. Carefully, I reached up and touched it,
then tapped it hard. There was no pain, only a sense of its
presence. I reached up and carefully tugged on the shaft. It
didn’t budge. Then I took it in both hands and broke off
the arrow at the point where it entered my chest, having it