The Companions

Chapter 5

Fallen tree limbs overgrown with twisted pines and a sponge-like, mossy vegetation crosshatched the dense forest, making the going difficult. Sudden torrents of water, evidence of some vast underground river, surfaced, rushed by, then vanished back beneath the wooded maze.

The land sloped gradually upward. Peaks ringed the forest where the terrain broke into abrupt escarpments and promontories. Here and there, shafts of pale sunlight pierced the greenish-blue atmosphere that enveloped the woods.

Slowly the three friends made their way through the junglelike forest. With blunt swings, Flint and Tanis hacked away at the lush greenery, clearing a path. Tanis grumbled at having to use his sword for such activity, while Flint, who had been the grumbler for most of the morning, could find some pleasure in wielding the sharp-edged shortaxe he usually kept slung at his side. Behind them, Raistlin waited wordlessly each time they halted, leaning on the stout cedar walking stick that had been carved for him by Flint some months ago. His pale face was lined with tension, but he was more patient with delay than either of his two companions.

The Master Mage's directions had been very precise. Although well-concealed, its whereabouts known only to a small, privileged number of magic practitioners, the cave of the Oracle lay only slightly more than half a day's trek from Solace. Morath had warned Raistlin to beware. In spite of deceptive appearances, the Oracle had fantastic powers and did not welcome uninvited strangers.

Outside Solace, the crushed gravel road that led to the southeast cleaved into two smaller pebble roads, one leading deeper into the mountainous south and the other curving to the east. Following Morath's instructions, Tanis, Flint, and Raistlin took the eastern fork. After a half-dozen miles, the path spidered off in numerous directions, giving a traveler the choice of several well-trodden dirt paths. Without the Master Mage's counsel, they never would have chosen the least of these, a northeasterly trail of dirt and mud that led, after a few miles, to a seeming dead end, a thick canopy of low-growing plants surrounding a grove of immense, broad-leafed trees with low-slung branches and huge trunks.

For half an hour, they slashed their way through the smothering undergrowth, then maneuvered past a cluster of formidable trees with outstretched branches. On the other side of the barrier, as the Master Mage had foretold, the faint traces of the old trail resumed.

Sometimes stooping, at other times crawling over or under obstacles of boulders and fallen trees, the trio spent an hour laboring on the wending, debris-ridden trail.

Raistlin kept a dogged pace. His determination to reach the Oracle impressed Tanis, who had banished Kitiara from his thoughts and was occupied with the task at hand. Flint took every opportunity to gripe and grumble.

"This mage of yours better know what he's talking about!" Flint complained at one point, mopping his brow with a handkerchief that was by now mottled with dirt and sweat.

Raistlin fixed him with a stare. "If you have any doubts, then turn back," rasped Caramon's twin, who was every bit as road-weary as the dwarf and furthermore less accustomed to such exertion. His face was pale and shiny. "Although I thought someone with your forest skills would find this outing a lark."

Flint scowled furiously but held his tongue, turning his back on Raistlin and continuing to clear the trail. Tanis would also have liked some assurances, but he saw the glint of anger in Raistlin's eyes and chose to say nothing.

Finally the elusive trail appeared to end in a small grassy clearing. At one end of the clearing stood a mammoth fir tree with a trunk that seemed welded to other trees and huge rocks wedged up behind it. At the base of the great fir was a black, hollow maw. This was obviously the place, for out of the cavity spewed tendrils of mist, accompanied by a strange brackish smell.

Both Flint and Tanis hesitated, but Raistlin moved ahead of them, peering cautiously. With his staff, he beckoned the dwarf and half-elf forward. The young mage led the three of them up to the mouth of the forbidding cave.

"Hallo!" cried Raistlin boldly, leaning into the darkness, his voice harsh and loud in the forest calm. "Three friends have come to call! We have greetings from Morath, the Master Mage!"

The only reply was silence. As Raistlin spoke, cold, white fingers of mist curled around his feet and spiraled upward, encircling his legs and his body, not quite touching the young mage, but oscillating and pulsating as if responding to the warmth of his blood.

With widening eyes, Tanis observed the eerie mists and glanced over at Flint, who nodded grimly. A few paces behind Raistlin, the two of them pulled weapons. Over his shoulder, the young mage cast a stern glance. Reluctantly the dwarf and half-elf sheathed their fighting tools.

After several long moments, Raistlin shook his head with irritation and came to a decision. Without a word of warning to his companions, he lowered his staff, ducked his head, and plunged into the black cavity. Almost instantaneously the mist broke up and was sucked inside the cave with him. Flint and Tanis had to hurry to catch up.

Just inside the opening, the three collided. Raistlin had paused beyond the entrance to allow time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. At first, none of them could see very much through the murky darkness. The bone-white mist swirled about them, undulating and changing shape. Even using his elven night vision, Tanis could see little. The mist, while seemingly insubstantial, created a barrier impenetrable to sight. It did not hinder hearing, however. After a moment of utter silence, Tanis and the others picked up the sound of voices, wailing indistinguishably from farther ahead in the darkness.

Nor were their senses of smell blocked. "It smells worse than a dead troll in here," Tanis whispered to Flint, who clutched a rag to his nose and mouth in an attempt to ward off the stench.

"Silence!" hissed Raistlin.

Reaching upward with his staff, Raistlin touched the ceiling and informed the others that they were in a low tunnel. He edged forward, feeling his way with his right hand, his companions following. Bunched together, the trio stumbled forward for several minutes until they rounded a narrow bend. Then a spot of dim illumination directly ahead of them made their progress easier.

The light gradually grew brighter until they emerged into a living quarters of some type, round rather than rectangular, walled on all sides except for the tunnel entrance.

The room was free of weird voices and dark augury. Looking up, Tanis saw sunlight filtering down. The dirt floor was dry, hard-packed, and swept tidily. A chair, a cot, and a large rope trunk gave evidence of habitation.

At the far end of the room, a huge caldron steamed and bubbled. The mist retreated, hovering over the caldron. There was no sign of owner or occupant. The overpowering, putrid smell still hung in the air.

Relaxing somewhat, Tanis reached out to touch the walls, which intrigued him. Streaked with muted colors, they appeared to be neither wood nor stone. Nevertheless, they felt hard to Tanis's touch.

"Some sort of petrified wood," muttered Flint admiringly, stroking his gray-flecked beard. He nudged Tanis with his elbow, hooking his eyes toward Raistlin.

Both watched with some bewilderment as the young mage, oblivious to his companions, edged forward and dropped to a squatting position in front of the cot, seeming to speak in a low voice to the very ground at his feet.

"We do not come as enemies…" Raistlin was murmuring, his gaze cast downward. Tanis and Flint could barely pick up his words. "… and if we did, surely you could easily defeat us, Chen'tal Pyrnee."

Peering closer, Tanis saw a white shrew cowering under the cot, its whiskers twitching furiously. Flint spied the tiny creature at the same time. The shrew, which had red pinprick eyes as hard as darts, was scurrying back and forth, squeaking and squealing.

"You do not need to be afraid of us," Raistlin added hastily, still crouching close to the floor. "We are here to show our respect and to beg a favor. I know that we have intruded upon your abode, but hear us out. If you choose, you may banish us, or even destroy us. My teacher, Morath of Poolbottom, tells me that you can do either, for you have truly extraordinary powers."

A boom split the air, followed by a sizzling and crackling noise. The shrew vanished. Materializing next to the heavy caldron, as if emerging from a jagged opening in the air that immediately closed behind it, stood an ancient ogress… the Oracle. She stirred the pot, one venomous purple eye appraising Raistlin. The other seemed to be sewn shut, oozing pus.

Watching warily, Tanis took a step backward. Flint fingered his axe handle nervously. Raistlin straightened to a standing position.

"I would just as soon have your bones for soup!" cackled the ogress. "Don't think I can't; I need but lift a finger!" Her voice was hoarse and shrill. She stirred vigorously, cocking her head in Raistlin's direction. "How is that old fool Morath, anyway? I never hear from him unless it's for a favor. Who are you to flaunt his name?"

Chen'tal Pyrnee was an incredibly ugly ogress. It would have been impossible to guess her age or weight. Swaddled in loose clothing and numerous scarves of various, mismatched, faded colors, she was as bulky as a bear. Her presence seemed to fill the cave, casting an ominous shadow over the three companions.

Her face was mottled with warts and bumps. Her nose and chin sprouted long, curling hairs. Her mouth showed missing and blackened teeth. Stringy, corn-colored hair fell beneath a plaited cap. The hideous effect was topped off by the hooded eye, which looked to be the result of accident or disease. The nauseous odor emanated more from her than from the contents of the mist-shrouded caldron.

"I was his pupil," said Raistlin, facing the ogress and bowing slightly. "Morath trusts me, and that is why he told me how and where to find you. There wasn't time or means for me to send any message in advance. We are on a mission of some urgency."

The ugly ogress lifted a dipper of whatever foul liquid she had been stirring and tasted it, frowning. As she did so, her one good eye squinted disdainfully at Raistlin. Tanis marveled at the young mage's composure. Caramon's twin brother met the hostile gaze of the Oracle without flinching and without any apparent distaste.

"That mage is a blabbermouth, if you ask me," Chen'tal Pyrnee muttered. "He's always sending young know-it-alls to connive and bargain for my spells. They line up by threes and fours outside my door, begging my assistance. I take pity on a few of them and help 'em out, just to be nice on account of Morath. But most I turn into warthogs or grass snakes. If they can't change themselves back, why they ain't worthy of being mages in the first place!"

"The master told me that he hasn't sent anyone to you for several years," replied Raistlin blandly. His eyes met her rheumy, solitary gaze.

"Ha!" Chen'tal Pyrnee made chewing motions with her lips. She glared at Raistlin. "Mebbe so, mebbe so. I lose track of the years. But does that give you any excuse to contradict me? You young, pious, snotty know-it-alls are all alike. Who are the other two? I can't imagine the Master Mage is taking in dwarves and elves these days." With a long, wrinkled finger, she contemptuously indicated Tanis and Flint.

Flint was of a mind to conk the ugly Oracle on the head with the butt of his axe, but Tanis held him by his tunic. Tanis glanced quickly at Raistlin, who, with a small frown, indicated they were to treat the ogress with respect. Tanis lowered his head humbly, managing to elbow Flint into joining him in the gesture.

Raistlin had made it clear how important this cave-dwelling ogress was to their quest to rescue Tas, Sturm, and Caramon. He had also made it clear how dangerous Chen'tal Pyrnee could be if crossed.

"They are my friends," Raistlin said.

The ogress's gaze flickered back to the young mage. "Friends, pah! It is easy to know an enemy," Chen'tal Pyrnee said cryptically, "but not as easy as it is to mistake a friend. An enemy can prove himself by a single deed. A friend must prove himself over and over again."

"I quite agree," Raistlin said, nodding.

Watching the young mage suspiciously, Chen'tal Pyrnee scooped another dipperful from the caldron and then unexpectedly threw the liquid against the wall of the cave so close to Raistlin that he had to step aside quickly to avoid being splashed. The liquid scorched the rocklike wood and drizzled down the wall, burning away an outer layer to reveal brilliant patterns of copper and turquoise. For a brief instant, the room was flooded with light and color. Then it flickered and faded.

Tanis had all he could do to restrain Flint. Raistlin, his face taut, said nothing. The young mage knew the ogress was trying to intimidate him. In truth, he was impressed and more than a little afraid. Morath had warned him that Chen'tal Pyrnee could be volatile.

The Oracle kept stirring her brew, gauging Raistlin's reaction. The mists pulsed above the steaming caldron. The wall sizzled. The ogress's solitary eye roamed the cave, surveying the companions.

Finally she spoke. "I could perform tricks like that all day," boasted Chen'tal Pyrnee, breaking the tension. In spite of herself, she was satisfied by the respectful demeanor of these three unlikely companions. Suddenly she stopped her incessant stirring. "But," the ugly ogress added, giving Raistlin a placating wink with her purplish eye, "you are in a hurry and have business to conduct. What brings you here to see old Chen'tal? It had better be important, or at least interesting. I don't entertain dull visitors. Not for long, anyway." She gave a dissonant cackle.

Raistlin took a step forward, digging into his pack and offering a thick wedge of speckled cheese wrapped in rough white paper. "We brought you a gift," he said politely.

Reaching out, Chen'tal Pyrnee grabbed the offering and swiftly unwrapped it. Her lone eye gleamed with obvious pleasure as she held the thick wedge of cheese in her gnarled palm. All Flint could think of as he watched her was how hungry he was all of a sudden and what a waste of fine cheese this was. The dwarf hoped that the ogress couldn’t hear his stomach rumbling.

Chen'tal Pyrnee plucked at the cheese and stuffed a chunk into her mouth, grotesquely dribbling bits of it as she chewed ferociously. "Mmmm… tasty," the Oracle said grudgingly. She held her hand up high and let the rest of the cheese plop into the steaming caldron.

Flint gulped with disappointment. Reading his thoughts, Tanis could barely repress a smile.

"Morath remembered how much you like the cheese from town," Raistlin continued smoothly. "And this"-the young mage held out a pouch tied with a ribbon, obviously stuffed with coins-"is what I brought as payment for the favor we ask of you."

"Which is?" asked Chen'tal Pyrnee with curiosity, taking the pouch and hefting it in her hand. It jingled, obviously heavy. She didn't need to empty and count the pouch to know that it was sufficient payment for the services she was usually asked to perform.

"From the Master Mage, I have learned that you possess the key to a portal that could transport us to Ogrebond at the edge of the Blood Sea. Our friends, including my brother, have been taken captive in that part of the world and are held in dire jeopardy. We do not have enough time to journey there by land or sea and are desperate for swifter means of travel. We come to you, trusting that you will appreciate the urgency of our quest."

The ugly ogress made a reproachful face and wagged a finger at Raistlin. "Morath shouldn't be telling folks that I have knowledge of a portal. He should know better."

She lowered her voice conspiratorially and leaned closer to Raistlin, so that their faces were an arm's length apart. Her mouth twisted, as if she were attempting a rare smile. Her breath smelled worse than any horse's. The purple eye bulged in its socket. "Portals exist through the benevolence of the Hulderfolk. They are not to be used for purposes of mere expediency. The Hulderfolk set certain conditions. The magic involved is of the highest potency."

"But do the Hulderfolk truly exist?" interjected Tanis from behind Raistlin. "Are they not simply legend?"

The purple eye swiveled to scrutinize Tanis, who had spoken without thinking. The half-elf braced for some type of abuse from the Oracle, but Chen'tal Pyrnee seemed amused rather than angry at his outburst. "Oh, I should think the Hulderfolk do exist," the ogress cackled. "There's no real proof, of course, as there is no real proof of many things. People say the Hulderfolk are invisible during the day and shy at night. Yet I believe they are always with us, watching and waiting. You must live according to what you believe." She shrugged. "I, for one, believe in the Hulderfolk."

Here she endeavored another rare smile. Two smiles in one day, probably a record, thought Flint to himself.

The ugly ogress turned back to Raistlin, hefting the money pouch once again. Her smile vanished. With a flick of her hand, she tossed the pouch back in his direction. It landed at his feet.

"A cartload of coins would not be enough for me to tempt the Hulderfolk," she said flatly. "I would be risking my very existence."

She leaned toward Raistlin again, speaking softly with her stinking breath. "Magic would raise the stakes. Now, I'm not saying I know the whereabouts of a portal, and I'm not saying I don't. If I did, it would take a magic artifact to grant your request. No amount of coinage would make the slightest difference. If you had a magic bauble to trade, we might have something to talk about. Being a noteworthy pupil of Morath's and all, you might happen to have such a bauble. If so, you'd be well advised to barter with it."

With a smirk, the unpleasant hag resumed stirring the hot, bubbling caldron. She cackled and muttered to herself, her purple eye remaining fixed on Raistlin.

The young mage stood with a wan, defeated expression. He started to say something, then thought better of it. The silence in the room grew oppressive.

"Raistlin!" whispered Tanis, beckoning him to his side. The mage turned to confer with his friend. Flint, who was weary of the ogress, sidled up next to them, listening.

"What about the message bottle from Tasslehoff?" asked Tanis, "That's a magical artifact, isn't it?"

"You've got it with you, don't you?" put in Flint.

"Yes," said Raistlin tersely.

"We have no further use for it," added Tanis. "She might want it."

"You don't understand," said Raistlin stubbornly.

"I can hear practically every word you are saying!" crowed the ogress. Chen'tal Pyrnee cupped one hand to her ear, bent her head toward them, and cackled. "Practically every word," she muttered to herself grumpily, stirring the caldron.

The three companions moved away from her and huddled closer together. Raistlin lowered his voice. "The bottle means nothing to me," the young mage whispered, "but to give it to Chen'tal Pyrnee goes against my teaching. This ogress traffics with whomever will pay her price. In the past, she has allied herself with evil. She may do so again. No magical artifact, however innocent, should fall into her hands."

"But she already has at least one artifact-the magical key or whatever it is that unlocks the portal," puzzled Flint. "Therefore, wouldn't it be acceptable to give her ours in exchange? That way, she's not really gaining any power."

"That's true," admitted Raistlin hesitantly.

"After all," added Tanis, "it may be a question of Caramon's life."

"Sturm's, too," chimed in Flint, "not to mention Tasslehoff."

Raistlin frowned. "I suppose you're right," he said. The mage turned back to Chen'tal Pyrnee, who had been observing the huddle and trying to eavesdrop. Her purplish orb gleamed with interest.

Fumbling in his pack, Raistlin pulled out the message bottle. Immediately Chen'tal Pyrnee grabbed it and held it up in two hands, her hideous face alight with pleasure.

"A message bottle!" she exclaimed. "It's so pretty! I haven't seen one for eons! They're not very practical, however. Each owner can use it only once. But they do come in handy." Suddenly her brow furrowed. "I hope there's a good message inside, so I don't get bored with it in the meantime."

"If you like kender, you'll love-" Flint began before Tanis clapped his hand over the dwarf's mouth.

Chen'tal Pyrnee turned to stare suspiciously at the dwarf, but Raistlin cut in, waving his hand reassuringly. "It’s from a kender on an ocean voyage, and-"

Listening to Raistlin, she nodded excitedly. "Oooh! A kender!" Chen'tal Pyrnee squealed with delight. "I couldn't be more pleased. They are such diverting creatures. I hired one to clean and sweep for me over seven years ago, but it didn't work out, because one day… Oh, never mind. It’s a long story-kender stories always are-and as I recall, you're in a bit of hurry."

Moving with surprising speed, the ogress bustled over to the large trunk and opened it, with her copious backside carefully screening the interior from her visitors' view. She rummaged among the contents, noisily shoving things aside, until at last she straightened up and turned around, triumphantly clutching a shimmering black gem dangling from a silver chain.

"Here it is!" the Oracle proclaimed, handing it over to Raistlin. "It is very powerful, so use it wisely."

"The Amulet of Darkness," said Raistlin wonderingly, holding it up for the others to see. The gem spun slowly on its chain, catching the pale light in the room.

Flint thought it looked like a lot of other black gemstones he had seen in his life. Tanis could tell that Raistlin recognized it as unique.

"Of course," Chen'tal Pyrnee added wistfully, "I have never had an opportunity to use it myself, so I can only suggest how best to make use of it."

"I thought the Amulet of Darkness had been lost forever," mused Raistlin.

"Lost, perhaps," said the ogress, "but not forever. Besides, I didn't say it was the one and only Amulet of Darkness. You did. All I guarantee is that it will take you through the portal to Ogrebond. It will do that, I know. You can call it the Amulet of Mustard Pie, for all I care."

"How do we release the magic?" asked Raistlin.

Looking around warily, the ugly ogress leaned over and whispered into Raistlin's ear. The mage nodded, giving a sign to the others that he was satisfied. He pocketed the amulet.

"Where do we find the portal?" asked Tanis.

"Easy enough," said Chen'tal Pyrnee. She launched into a shrill recital of directions that were so elaborate they left Tanis dizzy. Something about due east, sharp left at dog rock, follow the tree line up to a high precipice, a gusty overhang, and then…

"I know the spot," said Flint.

The ogress stopped talking and turned her suspicious stare to the dwarf. The other two companions also looked at the dwarf in surprise. "I've hiked around these parts for thirty years," he said proudly. "You can't name a peak I haven't climbed or at least seen."

Tanis looked at Raistlin. "Then let's go," the half-elf said eagerly.

"Yes," Raistlin agreed. He made another slight bow to the Oracle. "Thank you for your help."

All three of them backed out of the cave, keeping their eyes on the one-eyed hag who was stirring her misty caldron with one hand and, with the other, happily holding the message bottle aloft.

"Thank you for the kender message bottle!" Chen'tal Pyrnee called to them as they retreated from sight. "Good luck with the portal! One never knows about portals. And if you happen to run across that old grump Morath, tell him not to send me any more visitors for at least a decade! I'm all done in!"

Tired and ill-tempered, the three companions made camp only a few short miles from the Oracle's cave. The strange, smelly ogress hadn't put any of them in a better mood for the adventure ahead. Tanis collected sticks and fallen branches for a fire, while Flint made a flaxweed broth for supper. Raistlin stayed apart from the half-elf and dwarf, eating placidly, his face drained, his eyes preoccupied as they stared into the dancing tongues of flame.

Finally Flint's cranky muttering got to the mage. "If you want to turn back, then turn back!" snapped Raistlin. "Both of you! If necessary, I'll find the portal and go to Ogrebond myself!"

"I didn't say anything about turning back," retorted Flint. "I was talking about where we're heading tomorrow!"

"Flint says it's a remote ledge at the top of a sheer cliff," explained Tanis diplomatically. "Very difficult to climb."

"How far away?" asked Raistlin, having regained his customary composure.

"Not far," huffed Flint, sipping his brown broth. "That's not the problem. I can climb it, and probably Tanis. But," he added, eyeing the young mage's less than impressive physique, "it may not be, uh, practicable for a fellow in your, uh, condition."

"How far away?" insisted Raistlin.

"One, maybe two hours only," said Tanis.

"Good," said Raistlin.

"How do we know the Oracle told the truth? How do we know there's a portal up there? How do we know it's not a waste of our blasted time?" Flint's voice rose vehemently.

"She told the truth," muttered Raistlin. "Morath said if Chen'tal Pyrnee chose to bargain, she would bargain fairly."

"But how do you expect to climb a precarious rock face?"

"Stop worrying about me," ordered Raistlin, "and get some sleep!"

Snorting angrily, Flint said nothing further. He hauled out his bedroll, lay down on it with his back to the others, and within minutes was snoring loudly. No words were exchanged between Tanis and the young mage during this awkward interlude.

Lunitari and Solinari shone at opposite ends of the sky, rising slowly toward each other, twin paths that at this time of year, late summer, would not intersect. The night was bright with stars at this elevation. The foliage had thinned considerably. The slope was strewn with sculpted rock. The light of the stars and moons revealed sparse, stunted trees rimmed by nearby peaks frosted with shining snow.

The serenity of the night echoed with the furtive sounds of nocturnal creatures. A gentle wind rustled the treetops. Tanis breathed deeply of the pine and earth and crisp mountain air.

He ventured to glance at Raistlin who sat, hands cupped together, still lost in thought, looking so worried and worn that a sharp breeze could knock him over. As Tanis watched, the young mage sighed, stood, and began pacing around the campfire. The half-elf was well aware of Raistlin's physical limitations, especially compared to his more robust twin. But he also knew that the young mage regularly adventured side by side with Caramon. And on more than one occasion, Tanis had seen a flash of the same fire that animated Raistlin's half-sister, Kitiara. No, Flint was wrong to underestimate the young mage, Tanis decided, physically or otherwise.

At that moment, Raistlin looked up and met Tanis's gaze, returning it defiantly.

"What's really bothering Flint," offered Tanis gently, "is the idea of the Blood Sea. He knows you'll make the journey all right. But he himself has a deadly terror of crossing any body of water, dating back to that unfortunate camping trip on the shores of Crystalmir Lake."

Raistlin gave a low chuckle and sat back down. The weariness of the day's effort settled on him like a great weight. "Perhaps," the young mage said softly.

Some months back, Flint and Tasslehoff had arranged an overnight expedition on the far shores of Crystalmir Lake.

Caramon and Sturm had come along and spent the day learning hunting and tracking skills from the grizzled dwarf. Tasslehoff tagged along with Raistlin, who busied himself searching for herbs and flowers for his spell components. It was on that day, ironically, that Tasslehoff had told Raistlin about his good friend Asa and the unusual minotaur herbalist from Southern Ergoth Asa had spoken of.

It had been a glorious day, one of their first extended experiences as companions, marred only by an incident on the following morning. Tas had "found" a boat, then persuaded the rest of them to launch it on peaceful Crystalmir Lake. Some distance from shore, Caramon had spotted a large green dart-eel lazing about, and with typical ebullience, he had boasted he could catch it by hand. However, Raistlin's twin had leaned over too far, and the boat capsized.

Quick thinking by Raistlin led him to bob up underneath the boat in the air pocket entrapped there. Tas and Sturm were good swimmers and succeeded in righting the boat. Flint dove to rescue the burly Caramon, who couldn't swim and had sunk to the bottom. The long seconds stretched into minutes as the trio waited anxiously. Finally Sturm and Tas jumped in again. Sturm hauled a sputtering Caramon to the surface, and shortly thereafter, Tas came up holding on to Flint's collar. The half-drowned dwarf, choking and chilled to the bone, vowed that nobody would ever coax him into another boat for the rest of his life.

"Considering what a weak swimmer Flint is," said Tanis, "it was rather heroic of him to try to save your brother."

"Heroic and foolish," grunted Raistlin. But his tone had grown milder. Tanis, his gaze diverted by the rhythmic swaying of the treetops, didn't notice the young mage as he slumped down on his blanket and wrapped his cloak around himself.

"Yes," chuckled Tanis. "Heroic and foolish. Two words that go well together." He gazed up at the beauty of the moons and stars, drinking in the peacefulness of the place.

"Flint has mentioned that incident several times," he mused softly. "It's engraved on his consciousness. Worst of all, for him, may be the fact that he was rescued by Tasslehoff. Any way you look at it, he owes his life to the kender-at least that time. Repaying that debt might be the only thing that gets him back onto a body of water-even one as accursed as the Blood Sea."

Tanis paused, his thoughts returning for a moment to Kitiara. A rush of confused emotions swept over him. The half^elf had never been able to bring himself to speak to Raistlin about her. This might be a good time.

"Tell me, Raist," Tanis began. Then he heard soft breathing, turned, and saw that the young mage was deep in slumber.

He crossed over to Raistlin and dropped an extra blanket on him. The air was turning cold. Tanis sat back down, pulled his own cloak over his shoulders, and sighed. Although they should be in safe territory, he decided that he'd better keep watch for a few hours before catching some sleep himself.

By late morning of the next day, after following a rugged, steep path up the mountain flanks, the companions came to the place that the ogress had described and that Flint knew from his previous journeys. Standing in a narrow ravine, he pointed upward to a cluster of eroded sandstone crags that rose like a fortress high in the sky. At the top of one of them, they could see a shelf of stone that jutted toward the east, where the spectacular configuration was dwarfed by even more imposing mountain ranges.

Flint took the lead, climbing up the sheer rock face, following the line of crooked trees that clung stubbornly to cracks and crevices. Tanis came next, trailed by Raistlin. Each was roped to the other around the waist.

The crag they were scaling must have been four hundred feet high. It was slow going, made slower by the fact that Flint insisted on leading and doing things his own way. Meticulously he inched upward, pounding short iron stakes about an arm's length above his head and tying himself firmly before finding a new foothold. Raistlin had been prescient with his suggestion that the dwarf bring along everything necessary to survive a mountain expedition.

Tanis and Raistlin had an easier time of it, thanks to Flint's trailblazing. Still, even for an experienced climber, it was arduous work. The footholds that provided a secure respite were few. Tanis and Raistlin had to claw and cling to pitted rock while hoisting themselves ever upward. Toward the top, the temperature cooled noticeably, and unexpected gusts of wind buffeted their backs.

Flint had to admit that Raistlin possessed grit. The young mage didn't complain.

Only once did Raistlin weaken and slip. Ahead of him, Tanis was alert enough to pull the rope taut, breaking the young mage's fall, while with his other hand, he gripped the link to Flint above. Raistlin managed to pull himself up and grab hold of the rock face. Fluttering his hand, he signaled Flint to continue. The dwarf had been right in thinking that his sinewy friend Tanis would have no trouble safeguarding Raistlin.

After nearly two hours of hard climbing, the three of them attained the summit of the precipice. They slumped on the ledge, out of breath, before turning their eyes to behold what lay beyond. The shelf was just large enough for the three of them. As the precipice rounded to the east, it revealed massive mountains with dramatic escarpments and snowcapped domes.

Directly below them was a deep, jagged gorge. Steam from fissures in the rock obscured its bottom. A plunge down that craggy face would mean certain death.

As Flint stood on wobbly legs, he realized that the strong gusts of wind were coming at him from two directions, east and west, the ledge caught in a crossfire of physical forces.

The strong winds tore at him. He motioned for the other two to wait and crawled unsteadily to the far side of the ledge, where he pitted one of his iron stakes. While Tanis and Raistlin watched, he pitted several more, and then rigged his rope so that they might all stand, anchored to the crag, without being blown off into space.

They stared below.

"Is that where the portal is supposed to be?" asked Tanis skeptically. He had to repeat his question more loudly before it was heard over the rushing cry of the wind.

"Yes," shouted Raistlin, his voice hoarse.

"I wouldn't want to trust in it," said Flint. The other two said nothing in reply, because they would rather not depend on it either. But what choice did they have?

Flint picked up a loose rock and held it over the side. Tanis nodded. He let it drop.

They waited for several minutes, straining against the noise of the wind to hear it hit bottom. Finally Flint thought he heard a ping off the rocks below.

"No portal," said Flint disgustedly.

"Inanimate object," disagreed Raistlin, shouting again. "The portal won't accept an inanimate object unaccompanied by a mortal being, and in any case, it won't open until I cast the proper spell!"

After a long pause, Tanis asked, "How can we be sure?"

Raistlin didn't reply immediately. The three of them stood on the rock ledge, high atop the crag, leaning out over the craggy gorge that extended hundreds of feet below. The wind blasted around them, tearing at their hair and clothing. Flint's ropes kept them from toppling off, but even so, they had to struggle to maintain their balance.

"We don't know," yelled Flint finally.

"Is that right?" Tanis asked, turning toward Raistlin.

"Yes."

Tanis and Flint looked at each other. Flint rolled his eyes. Tanis unsheathed a knife.

"Then say the spell," the half-elf said.

Raistlin closed his eyes briefly, concentrating, then opened them. He murmured some ancient words that sounded incomprehensible to Flint. Then, in common language that both of them understood, he shouted, "Open portal!"

With his knife, Tanis slashed at the ropes that held them to the stakes. Swiftly he jammed it back in its sheath. As he did, the three of them moved forward, leaping off, Flint and Raistlin linking arms with Tanis in the middle. An unintelligible shriek escaped their lips.

Whether because of the wind or their lack of coordination, the three companions got all tangled up as they plunged, heads first and feet splaying, toward the jagged rocks below.