Margaret Weis - Time of the Twins

Spooky wood... what did that remind him of, Tas caught himself as he was slipping over the edge of sleep. Something important. Spooky wood. Spooks... talk to spooks...

“Darken Wood!” he said in alarm, sitting bolt upright.

“What?” asked Lady Crysania, wrapping her cloak around her and preparing to lie down.

“Darken Wood!” Tas repeated in alarm. He was now thoroughly awake. “We’re close to Darken Wood. We came to warn you! It’s a horrible place. You might have blundered into it. Maybe we’re in it already—”

“Darken Wood?” Caramon’s eyes flared open. He stared around him vaguely.

“Nonsense,” Lady Crysania said comfortably, adjusting beneath her head a small traveling pillow she had brought with her. “We are not in Darken Wood, not yet. It is about five miles distant. Tomorrow we will come to a path that will take us there.”

“You—you want to go there!” Tas gasped.

“Of course,” Lady Crysania said coldly. “I go there to seek the Forestmaster’s help. It would take me many long months to travel from here to the Forest of Wayreth, even on horseback. Silver dragons dwell in Darken Wood with the Forestmaster. They will fly me to my destination.”

“But the spectres, the ancient dead king and his followers—”

“—were released from their terrible bondage when they answered the call to fight the Dragon Highlords,” Lady Crysania said, somewhat sharply. “You really should study the history of the war, Tasslehoff. Especially since you were involved in it. When the human and elven forces combined to recapture Qualinesti, the spectres of Darken Wood fought with them and thus broke the dark enchantment that held them bound to dreadful life. They left this world and have been seen no more.”

“Oh,” said Tas stupidly. After glancing about for a moment, he sat back down on his bedroll. “I talked to them,” he continued wistfully. “They were very polite—sort of abrupt in their comings and goings, but very polite. It’s kind of sad to think—”

“I am quite tired,” interrupted Lady Crysania. “And I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow. I will take the gully dwarf and continue on to Darken Wood. You can take your besotted friend back home where he will—hopefully—find the help he needs. Now go to sleep.”

“Shouldn’t one of us... stay on watch?” Tas asked hesitantly. “Those rangers said—” He stopped suddenly. Those “rangers” had been in the inn that wasn’t.

“Nonsense. Paladine will guard our rest,” said Lady Crysania sharply. Closing her eyes, she began to recite soft words of prayer.

Tas gulped. “I wonder if we know the same Paladine?” he asked, thinking of Fizban and feeling very lonesome. But he said it under his breath, not wanting to be accused of blasphemy again. Lying down, he squirmed in his blankets but could not get comfortable. Finally, still wide awake, he sat back up and leaned against a tree trunk. The spring night was cool but not unpleasantly chill. The sky was clear, and there was no wind. The trees rustled with their own conversations, feeling new life running through their limbs, waking after their long winter’s sleep. Running his hand over the ground, Tas fingered the new grass poking up beneath the decaying leaves.

The kender sighed. It was a nice night. Why did he feel uneasy? Was that a sound? A twig breaking? Tas started and looked around, holding his breath to hear better. Nothing. Silence. Glancing up into the heavens, he saw the constellation of Paladine, the Platinum Dragon, revolving around the constellation of Gilean, the Scales of Balance. Across from Paladine—each keeping careful watch upon the other—was the constellation of the Queen of Darkness—Takhisis, the Five-Headed Dragon.

“You’re awfully far away up there,” Tas said to the Platinum Dragon. “And you’ve got a whole world to watch, not just us. I’m sure you won’t mind if I guard our rest tonight, too. No disrepect intended, of course. It’s just that I have the feeling Someone Else up there is watching us tonight, too, if you take my meaning.” The kender shivered. “I don’t know why I feel so queer all of a sudden. Maybe it’s just being so close to Darken Wood and—well, I’m responsible for everyone apparently!”

It was an uncomfortable thought for a kender. Tas was accustomed to being responsible for himself, but when he’d traveled with Tanis and the others, there had always been someone else responsible for the group. There had been strong, skilled warriors—

What was that? He’d definitely heard something that time! Jumping up, Tas stood quietly, staring into the darkness. There was silence, then a rustle, then—

A squirrel. Tas heaved a sigh that came from his toes.

“While I’m up, I’ll just go put another log on the fire,” he said to himself. Hurrying over, he glanced at Caramon and felt a pang. It would have been much easier standing watch in the darkness if he knew he could count on Caramon’s strong arm. Instead, the warrior had fallen over on his back, his eyes closed, his mouth open, snoring in drunken contentment. Curled about Caramon’s boot, her head on his foot, Bupu’s snores mingled with his. Across from them, as far away as possible, Lady Crysania slept peacefully, her smooth cheek resting on her folded hands.

With a trembling sigh, Tas cast the logs on the fire. Watching it blaze up, he settled himself down to watch, staring intently into the night-shrouded trees whose whispering words now had an ominous tone. Then, there it was again.

“Squirrel!” Tas whispered resolutely.

Was that something moving in the shadows? There was a distinct crack—like a twig snapping in two. No squirrel did that! Tas fumbled about in his pouch until his hand closed over a small knife.

The forest was moving! The trees were closing in!

Tas tried to scream a warning, but a thin-limbed branch grabbed hold of his arm...

“Aiiii,” Tas shouted, twisting free and stabbing at the branch with his knife.

There was a curse and yelp of pain. The branch let loose its hold, and Tas breathed a sigh. No tree he had ever met yelped in pain. Whatever they were facing was living, breathing...

“Attack!” the kender yelled, stumbling backward. “Caramon! Help! Caramon—”

Two years before, the big warrior would have been on his feet instantly, his hand closing over the hilt of his sword, alert and ready for battle. But Tas, scrambling to get his back to the fire, his small knife the only thing keeping whatever it was at bay, saw Caramon’s head loll to one side in drunken contentment.

“Lady Crysania!” Tas screamed wildly, seeing more dark shapes creep from the woods. “Wake up! Please, wake up!”

He could feel the heat of the fire now. Keeping an eye on the menacing shadows, Tas reached down and grabbed a smoldering log by one end—he hoped it was the cool end. Lifting it up, he thrust the firebrand out before him.

There was movement as one of the creatures made a dive for him. Tas swiped out with his knife, driving it back. But in that instant, as it came into the light of his brand, he’d caught a glimpse of it.

“Caramon!” he shrieked. “Draconians!”

Lady Crysania was awake now; Tas saw her sit up, staring around in sleepy confusion.

“The fire!” Tas shouted to her desperately. “Get near the fire!” Stumbling over Bupu, the kender kicked Caramon. “Draconians!” he yelled again.

One of Caramon’s eyes opened, then the other, glaring around muzzily.

“Caramon! Thank the gods!” Tas gasped in relief.

Caramon sat up. Peering around the camp, completely disoriented and confused, he was still warrior enough to be hazily aware of danger. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he gripped the hilt of his sword and belched.