The Companions

Chapter 16

According to legend, Worldscap had last erupted during the Cataclysm. Raining volcanic death on Karthay, it wiped the city and its people from the face of the earth. Karthay had been uninhabited ever since, until the Nightmaster with his flock of disciples had arrived to make their secret preparations for bringing Sargonnas into the world.

Worldscap stood like a huge jagged tooth on the edge of the city, where it presented a formidable barrier to the north and west. Its slopes were furrowed by deep ravines and impenetrable clusters of hardened lava. The Nightmaster and his acolytes had spent months carving a swath to the summit, a black and barren crater.

From a distance, it looked as though the top of the mountain had been lopped off. Numerous steep-sided cinder cones dotted the unusually broad bowl. Everywhere were signs of volcanic activity, including lava bombs, molds of tree trunks, and giant groundsels engulfed by hardened lava. Mud pots bubbled. Jets of steam and gas whistled from cracks in the ground.

One oval-shaped depression in the crater was larger and more volatile than the rest. This was the heart of the volcano, crusted over with dried lava. Its center consisted of a plug of rock that had solidified deep down in the volcano's vent.

The Nightmaster believed that under the oval-shaped depression lay the original volcanic crater, whose eruption had precipitated the collapse of the peak into the core of the mountain. And underneath the original crater waited the fire fountain that could re-ignite volcanic activity. For weeks, the Nightmaster's followers had been working with the minotaur troops to dig out the vent.

From his camp on the ash-covered terrace of the dead city's once-great library, the Nightmaster regularly hiked to a mountain plateau west of Karthay to read his signs. But the spell to summon Sargonnas would be cast here, on the summit of Worldscap, in the heart of the volcano.

Everything had been prepared. The acolytes and a select number of minotaur soldiers had been camped on the summit for days, setting up the makeshift laboratory, the rows of ingredients, the charms and stones and dead creatures, the scrolls and books that the Nightmaster would need during the casting of the spell.

After long hours of labor, the cap had been dug out of the original volcano and the mouth of the fire fountain breached. The span of the mouth was roughly a dozen feet. Deep down, one could glimpse fiery orange lava, seething and bubbling.

The soldiers had built a wooden scaffold near the edge of the mouth, with a dozen stairs leading to a platform overlooking the fiery fountain.

The stars had glided into conjunction. Day was turning into night.

All was ready when the Nightmaster and his group crested the summit. Wearing ceremonial furs and feathers, with bells jingling as he moved, the Nightmaster strutted proudly toward the oval-shaped depression that housed the volcano's original crater. He walked between a double line of his acolytes and soldiers who had gathered in formation to greet him.

Trailing the Nightmaster were several armed minotaurs and the High Three shamans. Following them was a young, thin human in a dark robe, who stumbled as he was prodded forward by the sullen Dogz, and a kender without a topknot who chattered enthusiastically about the glorious spectacle of evil he was about to witness.

"Tell me, Raistlin, how you divined that I was going to cast this ancient and generally forgotten spell? Satisfy my curiosity. You know you are going to die anyway."

The Nightmaster bent over Raistlin, leering triumphantly.

The young mage sat in stony silence on a rock near the lip of the crater, his arms bound behind him, his feet also tied tightly with rope. Yet Raistlin refused to let defeat show in his face. Instead, he offered the Nightmaster an enigmatic smile with his reply.

"It was completely by chance. It was only a torn page in a yellowed spellbook that caught my eye. I knew that the spell had something to do with minotaur rituals. That much was obvious. And there was a citation of Sargonnas, the Lord of Dark Vengeance. But I had no hope of assembling the spell components, and beyond that, I cared little.

"Then my friend, Tasslehoff Burrfoot"-here Raistlin nodded in the direction of the kender, who was bounding back and forth between members of the High Three, trying to help them mix potions and ingredients but mostly getting in the way-"happened to make mention of a minotaur herbalist located on the island of Southern Ergoth. A minotaur herbalist… that aroused my curiosity. I asked a kender friend of Tasslehoff's who sometimes sold herbs, roots, and other items to me about certain peculiar ingredients that were mentioned on the torn page of the yellowed spellbook.

"One of these ingredients was crushed jalopwort, and the kender assured me that the minotaur had a supply available. Along with my brother and a friend, Tas volunteered to travel to Southern Ergoth to purchase the jalopwort."

Here Raistlin paused, glancing around. The pale of evening had settled in, promising a crisp night, with the stars clear in their formations.

The acolytes and troops had retreated to the edge of the summit, well away from the staging area. Silent and grim, holding their weapons aloft so that the steel and embroidered gems glinted under the twin moons, the small force of soldiers stood back from the Nightmaster, Raistlin, and the others.

Dogz took a position near the Nightmaster, guarding Raistlin.

"Even then, I would not have thought too much about it," the young mage continued. "It is part of my business to be interested in exotic herbs and rare spells. Except then my brother, his friend, and Tasslehoff vanished. And before they vanished, Tas sent me a magic message bottle that told me all about the strange execution of the minotaur herbalist.

'The person who brought me the message bottle added some curious details about the missing ship and its treacherous captain. After completing his job, it seems the captain was also killed in a manner that appeared to me to be distinctly magical."

Raistlin's eyes glittered with intelligence as he spoke.

"After that, it was mostly guesswork. I went back to the crumbling spellbook and read and studied the partial spell. I discussed my conclusions with-" here he paused-"let me call him a learned advisor.

"Through these efforts, it gradually dawned on me that the jalopwort was just a small part of a magical undertaking grander than anything I had suspected, that this ambitious spell had to involve minotaurs at the highest level, and that the spellcasting that was being planned would, if successful, bring Sargonnas, god of the minotaurs, into the material plane. The most logical place for such a rite would be here, near the ruins of Karthay, the last known place on Krynn where the Lord of Vengeance showed his wrath of fire."

"So you did get my magic message bottle!" chirped Tasslehoff. The kender had bounded up behind Raistlin. "I'm glad it wasn't wast-"

The Nightmaster grabbed Tasslehoff, whose habit of idle chatter was beginning to irritate him, and rather roughly shoved the kender under one arm, blanketing his mouth with a huge hand.

Raistlin looked at both of them coolly.

"Yes," purred the Nightmaster while Tas did his best to get loose from the high shaman's smothering grip. "Tasslehoff sent you a magic message bottle. You and he are old friends, right? So how do you like the new, improved Tasslehoff-to whom one of my disciples has fed a potion and turned into an evil kender? He has been most useful to us so far"-here the Nightmaster gave Tas a hard squeeze-"and I trust he will continue to be useful to us in the future."

Raistlin glanced at the struggling kender, then returned his gaze to the Nightmaster. "So that is how you did it," said Raistlin. "A potion."

"Do you doubt it?" rumbled the Nightmaster. For a moment, the Nightmaster lifted his arm away from Tas's mouth.

"It's true," said Tasslehoff, wrinkling his face into what he hoped was a fierce-looking sneer. "I'm incredibly evil now. Quite a change, huh?"

The Nightmaster clapped his arm back around the kender's mouth, and Tas resumed his struggling.

"I would have thought," Raistlin said blandly, "that a potion would not have any long-term effect."

The Nightmaster smiled. "You're quite right," he rumbled. "Dogz!" Dogz approached him, and he handed the kender over to Dogz. "Give Tasslehoff his double dose-now!"

Dogz looked at the Nightmaster, then quickly looked away. For an instant, his eyes met Raistlin's. Then Dogz nodded to the Nightmaster.

The Nightmaster returned his attention to Raistlin. "I am grateful to you for reminding me."

With Tas protesting, Dogz led the kender off to a far corner of the spellcasting area, where a small table was set up. Raistlin saw Dogz set the kender down by the shoulders, swirl something in a beaker, and tip the contents into the kender's mouth. After that, Raistlin observed, Dogz watched Tas for several minutes until the kender's head drooped down and he was slumped peacefully in the chair.

All around them, preparations for the casting of the spell had reached their zenith. Fesz and the other two shaman minotaurs were tossing handfuls of components culled from jars and beakers into the dug-out crater. After hundreds of years of dormancy, the volcano had begun to hiss and sputter. A faint orange light spilled forth from the mouth of the fire fountain.

Dogz trotted back in the direction of Raistlin and the Nightmaster.

"I would have considered the kender for a sacrificial victim," rumbled the Nightmaster, "if kender were not such an insignificant race. Sargonnas would much prefer a human, and a young mage such as yourself will, as you might guess, improve the spell greatly." Here he paused and studied Raistlin closely.

"I am so ignorant of the customs of humans. Tell me why you are not wearing the robes of white, red, or black."

"I have not taken the Test," said Raistlin, "and I have not yet chosen the color of the robes that I will one day wear."

"If you were a black robe," mused the Nightmaster, "we would be on the same side. You would worship Sargonnas as I do."

"I know very little about Sargonnas. That is one of the reasons why I came."

"You came to rescue your brother," the Nightmaster said with a sneer.

"Partly," answered Raistlin, "and partly because I am interested in all the orders of magic-black, white, and neutral."

"Really?"

The High Three had finished their preliminary work. Dogz was standing back, arms folded, in the shadows. Fesz came over and interrupted.

"Pardon, Excellency," said Fesz, "but we are ready."

The high shaman gave him a nod. Fesz turned away.

The Nightmaster leaned over Raistlin, his fetid breath hot on the mage's face. The high shaman examined the young mage from Solace with fresh interest. Raistlin didn't flinch under his gaze.

"So," rumbled the Nightmaster, "that is why you volunteered to take your sister's place… because you wanted to observe the spell and to encounter Sargonnas himself-as you surely will, since you will be the victim who makes possible his entry into this world!"

Raistlin waited a long time before replying. "Partly," is all he said.

The Nightmaster reared back and struck Raistlin across the face, bowling him off the rock that served as his chair. Blood streaked down Raistlin's face. For good measure, the Nightmaster kicked the young mage hard in the side as he lay on the ground. Still Raistlin did not cry out.

Dogz watched, his arms folded, his face impassive.

"Guards!" called the Nightmaster. Two armed minotaurs broke rank with the others on the perimeter of the area and came running over. "Bring this pathetic human over to the crater and hold him until I am ready for him!"

The soldiers picked Raistlin up and dragged him over to the crater's edge, so near to the mouth that the heat from below blasted him.

The High Three lined up across the crater at an angle from Raistlin.

The Nightmaster donned a crimson cloak and marched up the dozen steps to the top of the scaffold. There a stand held a massive tome.

Raistlin shook his head to clear it from the blow by the Nightmaster. He was only slightly dazed. Although he was held tightly by the soldiers, the young mage could twist around and glimpse Tasslehoff behind the High Three, still slumped on his chair.

Atop the scaffold, the Nightmaster lifted his horned head, took a deep breath, and gazed skyward.

Cold gripped the summit, though no wind stirred. The clouds that blotted out the sky on previous nights had disappeared. The stars shone like beacons.

Not only could Raistlin feel the intense heat of the volcano, but now he also could clearly hear the bubbling of the fiery orange liquid as it gradually welled to the surface.

The Nightmaster began to read from the tome in an ancient minotaur dialect, his guttural voice rising steadily in volume.

The High Three started to murmur in the background.

Raistlin could make out almost none of the words, only an occasional invocation to Sargonnas.

As he chanted the spell, the Nightmaster moved his powerful arms in a strange, graceful manner, weaving intricate hand language in the air. His cloak swished behind him. The small bells draping his sharp, curved horns jingled a musical accompaniment to his every movement. His deep bull voice, growling out mysterious phrases, contrasted eerily with his balletlike motions.

Thunk! Flying out of nowhere, an object struck the throat of one of the minotaur guards, hitting him with such force that he immediately let loose his grip on Raistlin, clutched at his throat, and fell to the ground, dead.

Before anybody could react, another object flew in from the periphery of Raistlin's vision, this one even bigger. It was Tasslehoff Burrfoot.

Tas leaped from the shadows onto the back of the other minotaur holding Raistlin. He was doing his best to choke and pummel a creature who was three times his size and six times the weight of the kender. He was doing a pretty good job of it, however, because the kender had landed so high on the minotaur's back that the creature couldn't reach far enough behind to get his hands on Tas.

But it was only a couple of seconds before Fesz sprinted over and jerked Tas to the ground. Although Tas got right up, he was moving groggily. Fesz easily latched on to his collar and lifted the squirming kender several feet into the air.

"You shame me, kender!" boomed Fesz, shaking Tas so violently that the kender started to hiccup. "You, whom I believed and trusted-you, whom I turned evil-you, whom I honored with the great privilege of attending the coming of Sargonnas-you-you-"

The shaman minotaur was livid with anger and disappointment.

Meanwhile, the minotaur soldier recovered his balance. Indeed he had never lost his hold on Raistlin.

The young mage could think of no spell which he could unleash without the use of his hands. Still bound and tied, Raistlin could do little but intently watch the scene unfold.

"Great privilege"-hiccup-"pfooey!" Tasslehoff spat into the smelly bull face of Fesz. "You cowheads wouldn't know honor from"-hiccup-"cow dung. I've had it with your cave breath, your exalted horns that any dumb ox could grow"-hiccup-"your smelly wardrobe, your barnyard manners"-hiccup, hiccup…

Tas was practically purple from being shaken so violently.

Suddenly a thunderous roar stilled both of them. Everyone looked up to the top of the scaffold, where the Nightmaster, who had been momentarily forgotten in the melee. With his fists clenched and his jagged teeth bared in a snarl, the Nightmaster personified rage.

"Silence!" screamed down the Nightmaster. "You are interrupting the spell!"

"But-" rumbled Fesz plaintively, "but the kender-"

"Be done with him," commanded the Nightmaster. "Throw him into the crater!"

"Yes," said Fesz meekly.

"No!" roared a different voice.

Raistlin, who had been looking up at the Nightmaster, turned his head just in time to see Fesz clutch at his throat. Embedded there, so deeply that the shaman couldn't budge it, was a dagger with an H-shaped hilt, Dogz's well-polished katar. Fesz dropped Tasslehoff, who landed with a thud. Then the shaman minotaur unceremoniously keeled over, quite dead.

From the scaffolding, the Nightmaster shouted, "Seize him!"

Dogz didn't even try to run away, nor did he resist when several soldiers surrounded him, pointing their spears and swords threateningly. In truth, the minotaur couldn't have said why he did what he had done-the unthinkable, treason-except that he liked the kender, Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Especially now that Tas seemed to be back to his old self. Dogz had reacted out of an instinct that he didn't know he possessed-the instinct of friendship.

Dogz sank to his knees.

The kender got up from his.

Hiccup.

Thoroughly pinioned by the remaining minotaur guard, Raistlin was trying to think of a spell he could manage in this desperate situation when Tasslehoff's hiccup suggested one: the invisibility spell that Raistlin had used to get past the minotaur guards earlier that day. It wouldn't do Raistlin much good now, but if he could pass it on to someone else… It wouldn't last for long, but long enough for Tas to get away. The young mage concentrated. Behind his back, he moved his fingers underneath their bonds.

Raistlin murmured the words to the spell, substituting Tasslehoff's name and throwing all of his focus and energy in Tas's direction.

With a soft popping sound, the kender vanished.

The Nightmaster, who had been preparing to cast a bolt of lightning at Tasslehoff, cursed himself. "Fool! I'm a fool!" he raged. "I should have thought of that." The high shaman leaned over the scaffold railing and shouted to the soldier who was holding Raistlin. "Put a gag around his mouth and make sure the mage can't speak. Then bring him up the steps and give him to me."

The guard hurled Raistlin down on the ground and bound his mouth roughly with a dirty strip of cloth. Then he began to drag Raistlin toward the scaffold steps.

The Nightmaster leaned over the railing in the opposite direction and yelled at several of his disciples who stood outside the line of minotaur soldiers. "The kender is invisible! Find him and kill him!"

Four of the minotaurs burst into the staging area, then stopped, confused. After a moment, they began stalking around, bending and peering suspiciously at thin air.

Hiccup.

Every time the soldiers heard a hiccup, they whirled and raced to another spot, lunging for something that wasn't there, colliding with each other.

The Nightmaster leaned over the railing toward the High Three, who had been reduced to the High Two with Fesz's death, and shouted, "Continue! The spell is almost completed!"

The two shaman minotaurs, taken aback by the unexpected death of Fesz, successor to the Nightmaster, had stopped their chanting. They appeared to be confused. But the murderous look the Nightmaster wore was enough to galvanize them into action. Once again they took up their supportive roles in the spell, intoning the required phrases.

the Nightmaster returned his attention to Raistlin, who was just then being yanked to the top of the steps by the armed minotaur. The high shaman grasped the young mage's arm, ordering the soldier to rejoin the forces below. The minotaur soldier gladly did so.

Raistlin couldn't move his arms or legs. His mouth was sealed so tightly he could barely breathe. The Nightmaster brought him to the edge of the scaffold, dangling him over the edge.

From this vantage, the volcanic pit seemed about to overflow with liquid fire. The heat seared the young mage's face.

"Mark it well, mage," hissed the Nightmaster, "for soon you will be swallowed up by the Lord of Volcanoes!"

With a muscular spin, the Nightmaster hurled Raistlin into one corner of the scaffold. The high shaman turned back to the massive magic tome and picked up where he had been forced to break off.

Hiccup.

Down below, the Nightmaster's acolytes scurried to track the hiccupping and catch the invisible kender. They missed again and again.

The Nightmaster blocked out the sounds. Nothing could stop him now that he was so close. Again he began to rumble in an ancient dialect. Again he moved his arms, weaving the powerful spell.

Crumpled in the corner of the platform, Raistlin felt defeated. With his sensitive hearing, he could hear the hiccupping below. The young mage wished that Tas would go for help, or escape, or at the very least stop hiccupping.

The Nightmaster turned a page.

Hiccup.

The hiccups were fewer and farther between now, like thunder after a storm has passed. The minions of the Nightmaster had given up. They had no idea how to catch an invisible kender. Those who were searching for Tas grouped together off to one side, distracted by the sight of the Nightmaster above on the scaffold, resuming his display of spellcasting.

Hiccup.

A minotaur soldier felt his sword being pulled from its sheath. He grabbed at the hilt just in time and wrested it back after a tug-of-war with something invisible. The minotaur swatted at the something and missed. One by one, each of the soldiers around him swatted and missed. Then a soldier unsheathed his sword and swung wildly, cutting off the ear of the minotaur standing next to him.

Hiccup.

The noise sounded close to where Dogz knelt on both knees, guarded by a knot of minotaur soldiers. The soldiers started at the hiccup, but couldn't tell precisely where it had come from. A couple of them moved away from Dogz, gripping their weapons and sniffing suspiciously. That left three watching the turncoat.

On the scaffold, the Nightmaster turned another page, continuing to read aloud the mysterious phrases of long-ago magic in his deep voice.

"Psst, Dogz! It's me, Tas!"

Dogz's mournful eyes widened, more concerned for the kender's sake than he was for himself. The three guards stood a couple of feet away, their backs to him, watching the Nightmaster. They hadn't heard Tasslehoff.

With his eyes, Dogz showed that he had heard.

"Hey, I want to thank you for killing Fesz! That was a swell thing to do. What a friend you are! Of course, I would have done it myself long ago if only-"

With his eyes, Dogz tried to tell the kender that he ought to get away from him-far away from him-before the armed guards turned around.

"Say, Dogz, you wouldn't happen to have a small dagger or anything-"

"Fesz," rumbled Dogz as softly as he could.

One of the guards heard him. He turned and stared suspiciously at Dogz, who shrugged. The guard came over and poked around in the air with his spear, hitting nothing.

Hiccup.

The minotaur guard rammed the butt end of the spear into Dogz's gut. Dogz doubled over, gasping for breath.

Atop the scaffold, the Nightmaster turned the final page. He took a moment, breathed deeply, and pulled some dried leaves and other ingredients from small pouches he carried, flinging them out over the volcano.

A mist of particles rose from the crater, spreading out and filling the air above it, tinting everything orange-red. The mist was dry and hot.

"The jalopwort," the Nightmaster growled, nodding in Raistlin's direction, "and the last of the other ingredients called for by the spell."

Raistlin, backed up against one of the corner posts, stared straight ahead, impassive. The moment the Nightmaster turned back to the tome of spells, he resumed his desperate effort to saw through the rope by rubbing it against the wooden corner of the scaffold.

Hiccup.

On the ground, something invisible was trying to pull the katar out of Fesz's neck. Nobody was paying the slightest attention to the dead shaman, so Tas was able to put his foot on Fesz's head and pull with both hands. Nobody noticed when the katar slid out of the minotaur's body and disappeared under Tasslehoff's tunic.

Fortunately Tasslehoff had finally gotten over the hiccups.

Unfortunately he had only a few minutes of invisibility left.

As carefully and quietly as he could, the invisible Tas crawled past the minotaur guard stationed at the foot of the scaffold. Up the steps, one by one, on his hands and knees, he crept toward Raistlin.

The mage heard the odd scraping and rustling sounds on the steps behind him and froze. Even as he did so, he felt the sharp edge of a blade begin to saw through the ropes that tied his hands.

Glancing over his shoulder, Raistlin saw Tasslehoff, one step from the top, gradually turning visible. He shook his head violently to warn the kender, but, intent on his task, Tas wasn't looking at Raistlin's face. Even if he had been looking, the kender wouldn't have had the slightest idea what the mage was trying to communicate.

The Nightmaster heard a noise at his feet.

Looking up, Tas saw the Nightmaster reaching down for him.

Faster than a dart eel, Tas withdrew the katar and rolled to his left. He came up on the floor of the scaffold, stabbing forward and down. The katar sank into the Nightmaster's cleft right hoof.

The high shaman of the minotaurs howled with pain and yanked out the katar, dropping it over the side of the scaffold. Bellowing with fury, the Nightmaster ripped a strip of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it around his foot, which was streaming blood. Then he jerked his head up, nostrils flaring, looking for Tas.

As close to panic as a kender gets, Tasslehoff had frozen, trying to decide whether to stay or run, when he saw the bulging eyes of the Nightmaster fasten on him. "Uh-oh," he murmured and instantly made the decision to run.

But it was too late. The Nightmaster covered the short distance between them in an eyeblink, snatching the kender up in one huge hand. With a deafening roar, the high shaman whirled and hurled Tas far out over the mouth of the volcano.

Down, down Tas fell, toward the liquid furnace…

… only to be caught up by something that swooped beneath him.

The Nightmaster gaped in astonishment as a kyrie warrior plucked the kender from the air with its talons. The kyrie soared up and past the shaman, then back down to the ground, where he deposited an equally astonished Tasslehoff Burrfoot a short distance away.

Running from one side of the scaffold to the other, looking down, the Nightmaster saw that a small group of kyrie and humans had engaged his minotaur force in battle. Several of the minotaurs were lying on the ground, dead or wounded, while others had retreated, bunching together behind mounds of dead lava, lobbing spears and arrows at the intruders.

The Nightmaster could pick out the human female, Kitiara, among the attackers, but he looked in vain for his two shamans, who had left their posts and vanished in the confusion.

At the foot of the scaffold, the Nightmaster saw a muscular, brown-haired human challenging the sole guard, swinging a sword against the polearm wielded by the minotaur. Although sorely pressed, the guard was doing a good job of protecting his position, using his superior bulk to ward off blows and deny the human access to the scaffold.

Momentarily stunned by what he saw, the Nightmaster stumbled backward on his hobbled foot. All of his careful planning, spoiled by a kender, some kyrie, and a handful of pitiable humans! That thought fueled his insane rage.

The high shaman stepped forward and raised both arms to the skies. He shouted out a magical command. His right arm swept downward.

A dozen brilliant balls of fire exploded on the ground near the group of humans and kyrie. Tongues of red flame briefly lit the scene.

Two minotaur soldiers who had been fighting the invaders were instantly incinerated. One of the kyrie, the Nightmaster noted with satisfaction, twisted on the ground, its wings aflame. Another kyrie bent over his unfortunate comrade, trying to smother the flames.

Chuckling at their futility, the Nightmaster prepared to launch another spell.

Then a noise behind him reminded him of Raistlin Majere.

Down on the ground, Tasslehoff hopped and leaped to avoid the balls of fire that sprang up all around him. He wondered about the unusual bird creatures that seemed to be fighting on the side of Caramon and, he was pleased to note, Tanis and Kitiara.

"Hi, Kitiara! How'd you get away?" the kender yelled as he ran to one side, then crawled on his hands and knees through some smoke, apparently looking for something.

He noticed that Kitiara only scowled back at him briefly before thrusting her sword into the side of a charging minotaur. She backed away into a patch of smoke and darkness, trailed by some of the bird-people. Why was Kit always in such a bad mood? Hadn't he greeted her nicely?

The smoke filled Tas's eyes with tears. He groped along the ground, finally laying his hands on what he had been searching for. Before he could get up, he felt a foot come down hard on his hand.

Tas looked up, then grinned with relief. "Hello, Tanis! Boy, is it great to see you and Caramon and Kitiara. Where's Flint?"

The half-elf stared down at him quizzically. "Whose side are you on, Tasslehoff?" he asked sternly.

"Why, Tanis," said Tas, genuinely hurt. "What a question to ask! I'm on your side, of course. Aren't you on mine? It's just me and Raistlin against all these minotaurs, and we sure could use some help."

Tanis eyed the kender closely, then slowly lifted his foot. Tasslehoff grabbed his hoopak, then accepted Tanis's hand and rose to his feet. Tas rubbed his hand ruefully.

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra sword, would you?" the kender asked plaintively.

Tanis shook his head, but he pulled a dagger out of its sheath and handed it to Tas hilt first. "Here," the half-elf said.

The kender took it eagerly. The knife would do. Meantime, he had his precious hoopak back.

The half-elf smiled at him. "Sure I'm on your side… if you're on mine. There have been some strange rumors about you lately."

"Have there?" asked Tas, grinning broadly. "Well, I've had a heck of a time. First we got betrayed by the captain of the Venora-I didn't like him much, anyway. I called him 'Old Walrus Face.' Then this big, incredible storm came along, only it wasn't really a storm but-"

Three minotaurs, carrying studded clubs and swords, crashed through the smoke, attacking them.

Tanis swung fiercely, blocking their charge, then raced off in one direction. Tasslehoff ran off in the other.

One of the kyrie had fallen in the bombardment of fire balls. Another had dragged his comrade off to one side and been separated from the group.

Tanis had disappeared.

The others were gathered near a small embankment. A group of minotaur soldiers harried them. Kitiara and Yuril, their backs against a rock, lashed out with their swords at two of the bull-men. Cloudreaver and three other kyrie warriors fought nearby, fending off several minotaurs with curved clubs.

One of the minotaurs closed in and stabbed his sword at Yuril, piercing her side. Instantly Kitiara swung around, slicing off the arm of the attacker at the elbow. The minotaur fell back, clutching his limb to stem the flow of blood. His fellow soldier shoved him out of the way, then lunged at Kitiara while she was still off balance.

At least Kit thought he had lunged, but when she stepped nimbly aside, the minotaur continued to fall forward onto his face, dead. A small knife protruded from the back of his neck.

She just managed to glimpse the kender as he dashed away.

Yuril slumped, and Kitiara grabbed her by the shoulders. "Can you make it?" she asked. Yuril nodded weakly and lost consciousness.

Tasslehoff couldn't find Dogz.

The minotaurs had dragged the traitor off to the perimeter of the staging area, where one bull-man soldier, removed from the rest of the action, nervously supervised the prisoner. Dogz sat in anguish, lost in his own world, staring at his feet. Suddenly he heard a solid thunk. He looked up to see the minotaur soldier drop to his knees, clawing at his throat, then topple face forward into the dirt.

Tas sauntered into view.

"It's all in the wrist," he boasted. "Not every kender can throw a hoopak as good as me. Why, I'd venture to say hardly any kender can throw a hoopak as good as me. Well, maybe Uncle Trapspringer can, but, after all, he's the one who taught me!"

In the midst of the noisy, smoke-enshrouded confusion all around them, Tas quickly untied Dogz.

Dogz didn't move. "You came back, friend Tas," he said, his voice missing its usual booming resonance.

"I owed you one, didn't I?"

"It is good to see you the way you were before," said the minotaur. "So the human female's antidote did work."

The minotaur soldier showed himself to be stubborn, savage, and battle-wise. Caramon couldn't get past him. The bull-man held a long polearm with a crescent blade at each end of its shaft. Again and again the young warrior tried to slash forward, but the minotaur kept him busy dodging the heavy weapon, which he twirled like a baton.

It seemed like a standoff until Tanis came running up, bringing his sword to bear alongside Caramon's. The half-elf slashed, while Caramon kept up his stabbing attack. Their weapons rang against the polearm.

For the first time, Caramon saw a hint of panic in the soldier's eyes. The minotaur stumbled and retreated a few steps. All his moves were defensive now, and Tanis and Caramon pushed their advantage. The minotaur was obviously tiring from the attack and couldn't last much longer.

On the scaffold, the Nightmaster turned to confront Raistlin Majere.

After Tasslehoff had cut the rope binding his hands, the young mage had worked fast, managing to pull the cord off his legs. Now, eyes intense, he stood there, pale and sweating, poised like an animal ready to spring.

"Things are not going very well… are they?" Raistlin said in a low, purposeful voice.

The Nightmaster had been thrown off balance by the nightmare sequence of events. But now the figure before him, the human who had somehow divined his plans and conspired to wreck them, renewed his sense of purpose. The high shaman of the minotaur race stared down at the much shorter Raistlin. He noted with satisfaction that the puny human didn't have any weapon.

"The spell has been spoken," rumbled the high shaman. "All that remains is the sacrifice. And I see that you are still here, Raistlin Majere of Solace. It occurs to me that there has been enough interruption and delay. The time for you to die is now. Sargonnas awaits!"

Raistlin had edged around as the Nightmaster spoke. Now he lunged-away from the high shaman, toward the tome of spells that rested on a stand. He snatched up the book of magic, holding it before him.

The Nightmaster stopped, hobbling toward Raistlin, surprised. "What is this, mage?" the shaman minotaur said with a sneer. "Do you think you have time to learn a spell in order to defeat me? Or are you simply intending to use my spellbook as a shield?"

Raistlin whirled and tossed the spellbook far out over the mouth of the volcano.

"No!" shouted the Nightmaster, lunging futilely after the book. "No-o-o-o!"

Just as the minotaur turned his back on Raistlin, Tanis and Caramon reached the top of the scaffold. They hurled their weapons at the hulking figure. Two swords rammed into the Nightmaster's back. The high shaman of the minotaur race teetered on the edge of the scaffold for a second, then lost his footing and fell forward into the fiery crater.

Caramon and Tanis embraced Raistlin.

The young mage glanced questioningly toward the continued fighting below.

"Kit is fine," explained Caramon quickly. "So is Tasslehoff. We're doing our best to hold them off!"

"There is no more time," said Raistlin tersely. "We have to hurry!"

Caramon and Tanis saw that already a red cloud was billowing out of the mouth of the volcano. Like a whirlwind of fire, it grew and swirled. They had to turn their faces away from the searing heat.

A sound like the hooves of a hundred thousand horses accompanied it.

Caramon glanced down briefly at the pool of orange fire whose huge waves splashed upward before Raistlin yanked him away. Caramon and Tanis were pushed back down the scaffold steps by the young mage.

"Kitiara's antidote?" asked the kender blankly.

"I exchanged it for your usual double dose," said Dogz solemnly.

"Yeah, well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. That potion never tasted very good, but this last time was even worse…"

The kender stopped suddenly. He heard a strange noise, like rolling thunder, quite different from the battle sounds he had been hearing. Tas looked up at the scaffold. It stood empty. A firestorm spewed from the mouth of the volcano, swelling over the scene.

"Uh-oh," Tasslehoff gulped. "We'll talk about all that later. Right now we'd better get out of here." He tugged at Dogz, who hadn't risen from where he was sitting.

"I'm not going," said Dogz.

"You're not what?"

"I'm not going," repeated Dogz. Now he stood, leaned over, and put his hands on the kender's shoulders. Dogz looked into his friend's eyes. "I have disgraced my race," said the minotaur. "I have disobeyed orders. I am dishonored."

"What?" sputtered Tas, looking around wildly. Minotaurs ran past them, throwing down their weapons and screaming. Through the confusion of smoke and fire, he couldn't see any of his companions. "What do you mean? You saved my life! You're a hero in my book!"

Dogz squeezed Tas's shoulders. His eyes were moist. "Go, friend Tas," said Dogz mournfully. "Save yourself. I am not worth saving. I am dishonored." He sat back down.

Tasslehoff was about to hurl a reply when one of those huge, feathered creatures swooped down and picked him up. The creature joined several other bird-people in flight. Each appeared to be carrying a human in its talons.

The kyrie veered away sharply and then up. They had just risen above the smoke and fires when they heard a tremendous explosion. Twisting around, Tas and the others could see a colossal plume of red fire bursting from the mouth of the volcano. The plume hovered in the air, forming into a shape that looked very much like a giant condor. For several minutes, the condor rained fiery death on everyone who still remained on the summit of the volcano. After several minutes, the condor dissipated, the plume withdrew, and the volcano became quiet once again. Sargonnas had come and gone.