Margaret Weis - Test of the Twins

Once on the solid ground (well, sort of solid ground), however, the kender felt immensely more himself.

“Good-bye, Fireflash!” he called, waving his small hand. “Thank you! Good luck!”

But if the bronze heard him, he did not answer. Khirsah was climbing rapidly, gaining air space. Zooming up after him came Skie, his red eyes glowing with hatred. With a shrug and a small sigh, Tas left them to their battle. Turning around, he studied his surroundings.

He was standing at the back of the fortress upon half of a courtyard, the other half having apparently been left behind when the citadel was dragged from the ground. Noticing that he was, in fact, uncomfortably near the edge of the broken stone flagging, Tas hurried toward the wall of the fortress itself. He moved softly, keeping to the shadows with the unconsciously adept stealth that kender are born possessing.

Pausing, he looked around. There was a back door leading into the courtyard, but it was a huge, wooden door, banded with iron bars. And, while it did have a most interesting looking lock that Tas’s finger itched to try, the kender figured, with a sigh, that it probably had a very interesting looking guard standing on the other side as well. He’d do much better creeping in a window, and there happened to be a lighted window, right above him.

Way above him.

“Drat!” Tas muttered. The window was at least six feet off the ground. Glancing about, Tas found a chunk of broken rock and, with much pushing and shoving, managed to maneuver it over beneath the window. Climbing up on it, he peered cautiously inside.

Two draconians lay in a heap of stone upon the floor, their heads smashed. Another draconian lay dead near them, its head completely severed from its body. Other than the corpses, there was no one or nothing else in the room. Standing on tiptoe, Tas poked his head inside, listening. Not too far away, he could hear the sounds of metal clashing and harsh shouts and yells and, once, a tremendous roar.

“Caramon!” said Tas. Crawling through the window, he leaped down onto the floor, pleased to notice that, as yet, the citadel was holding perfectly still and didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Listening again, he could hear the familiar roaring grow louder, mingled with Tanis’s swearing.

“How nice of them,” Tas said, nodding in satisfaction as he crept across the room. “They’re waiting for me.”

Emerging into a corridor with blank stone walls, Tas paused a moment to get his bearings. The sounds of battle were above him. Peering down the torch lit hall, Tas saw a staircase and headed in that direction. As a precaution, he drew his little knife, but he met no one. The corridor was empty and so were the narrow, steep stairs.

“Humpf,” Tas muttered, “certainly a much safer place to be than the city, right now. I must remember to mention that to Tanis. Speaking of whom, where can he and Caramon be and how do I get there?”

After climbing almost straight upward for about ten minutes, Tas stopped, staring up into the torchlit darkness. He was, he realized, ascending a narrow stair sandwiched between the inner and outer walls of one of the citadel’s towers. He could still hear the battle raging—now it sounded like Tanis and Caramon were right on the other side of the wall from him—but he couldn’t see any way to get through to them. Frustrated—and with tired legs—he stopped to think.

I can either go back down and try another way, he reasoned, or I can keep going. Back down—while easier on the feet—is likely to be more crowded. And there must be a door up here somewhere, or else why have a stair?

That line of logic appealing to him, Tas decided to keep going up, even though it meant that the sounds of battle seemed to be below him now instead of above him. Suddenly, just as he was beginning to think that a drunken dwarf with a warped sense of humor had built this stupid staircase, he arrived at the top and found his door.

“Ah, a lock!” he said, rubbing his hands. He hadn’t had a chance to pick one in a long time, and he was afraid he might be getting rusty. Examining the lock with a practiced eye, he gingerly and delicately placed his hand upon the door handle. Much to his disappointment, it opened easily.

“Oh, well,” he said with a sigh, “I don’t have my lockpicking tools anyway.” Cautiously pushing on the door, he peeped out. There was nothing but a wooden railing in front of him. Tas shoved the door open a bit more and stepped through it to find himself standing on a narrow balcony that ran around the inside of the tower.

The sounds of fighting were much clearer, reverberating loudly against the stone. Hurrying across the wooden floor of the balcony, Tas leaned over the edge of the railing, peering down below at the source of the sounds of wood smashing and swords clanging and cries and thuds.

“Hullo, Tanis. Hullo, Caramon!” he called in excitement. “Hey, have you figured out how to fly this thing yet?”

Trapped on an other balcony several flights below the one Tas leaned over, Tanis and Caramon were fighting for their lives on the opposite side of the tower from where the kender was standing. What appeared to be a small army of draconians and goblins were crammed on the stairs below them.

The two warriors had barricaded themselves behind a huge wooden bench which they had dragged across the head of the stairs. Behind them was a door, and it looked to Tas as if they had climbed up the stairs toward the door in an effort to escape but had been stopped before they could get out.

Caramon, his arms covered with green blood up to his elbows, was bashing heads with a hunk of wood he had ripped loose from the balcony—a more effective weapon than a sword when fighting these creatures whose bodies turned to stone. Tanis’s sword was notched—he had been using it as a club—and he was bleeding from several cuts through the slashed chain mail on his arms, and there was a large dent in his breastplate. As far as Tas could tell from his first fevered glance, matters appeared to be at a stalemate. The draconians couldn’t get close enough to the bench to haul it out of the way or climb over it. But, the moment Caramon and Tanis left their position, it would be overrun.

“Tanis! Caramon!” Tas shouted. “Up here!”

Both men glanced around in astonishment at the sound of the kender’s voice. Then Caramon, catching hold of Tanis, pointed.

“Tasslehoff!” Caramon called, his booming voice echoing in the tower chamber. “Tas! This door, behind us! It’s locked! We cant get out!”

“I’ll be right there,” Tas called in excitement, climbing up onto the railing and preparing to leap down into the thick of things.

“No!” Tanis screamed. “Unlock it from the other side! The other side!” He pointed frantically.

“Oh,” Tas said in disappointment. “Sure, no problem.” He climbed back down and was just turning to his doorway when he saw the draconians on the stairs below Tanis and Caramon suddenly cease fighting, their attention apparently caught by something. There was a harsh word of command, and the draconians began shoving and pushing each other to one side, their faces breaking into fanged grins. Tanis and Caramon, startled at the lull in the battle, risked a cautious glance over the top of the bench, while Tas stared down over the railing of the balcony. A draconian in black robes decorated with arcane runes was ascending the stairs. He held a staff in his clawed hand a staff carved into the likeness of a striking serpent.

A Bozak magic-user! Tas felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach almost as bad as the one he’d had when the dragon came in for a landing. The draconian soldiers were sheathing their weapons, obviously figuring the battle was ending. Their wizard would handle the matter, quickly and simply.