Margaret Weis - Test of the Twins

For a moment, all he could hear was the clatter of swords and a few screams. Then, Tanis’s voice, sounding gradually closer as he and Caramon backed their way down the corridor, floated up. “Northwest! Almost straight northwest!”

“Right!” Planting his feet firmly in the black crystal depressions, Tas drew a shaking breath, then raised his hands to place them upon the crystal globes.

“Drat!” he cried in dismay, staring up. “I’m too short!”

Looking down at Rounce, he motioned. “I suppose your hands don’t have to be on the globe and your feet don’t have to be in the black circles at the same time?”

Tas had the unfortunate feeling that he already knew the answer to this, which was just as well. The question had thrown Rounce into such a state of confusion that he could only stare at Tas, his mouth gaping open.

Glaring at the gully dwarf simply because he had to have something to glare at in his frustration, Tas decided to try to jump up to touch the globes. He could reach them then, but when his feet left the black crystal circles—the blue-white light went dim.

“Now what?” he groaned. “Caramon or Tanis could reach it easily, but they’re down there and, from the sounds of things, they’re not going to be coming up here for a while. What can I do? I—Rounce!” he said suddenly, “come up here!”

Rounce’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Me not allowed,” he said, starting to back away from the platform.

“Wait! Rounce! Don’t leave!” Tas cried. “Look, you come help me! We’ll fly this together!”

“Me!” Rounce gasped. His eyes opened round as teacups. “Fly like big boss wizard?”

“Yes, Rounce! C’mon. Just climb up, stand on my shoulders, and—”

A look of wonder came into Rounce’s face. “Me,” he breathed with a gusty sigh of ecstasy, “fly like big boss wizard!”

“Yes, Rounce, yes,” said Tas impatiently, “now, hurry up before—before the big boss wizard catches us.”

“Me hurry,” Rounce said, crawling up onto the platform and from there onto Tas’s shoulders, “Me hurry. Me always want to fly/

“Here, I’ve got hold of your ankles. Now, ouch! Let go of my hair! You’re pulling! I’m not going to drop you. No, stand up. Stand up, Rounce. Just stand up slowly. You’ll be all right. See, I have your ankles. I won’t let you fall. No! No! You’ve got to balan—”

Kender and gully dwarf tumbled over in a heap.

“Tas!” Caramon’s warning voice came up the stairs.

“Just a minute! Almost got it!” Tas cried, yanking Rounce to his feet and shaking him soundly.

“Now, balance, balance!”

“Balance, balance,” Rounce muttered, his teeth clicking together.

Tas took his place upon the black crystal circles once again and Rounce crawled up onto his shoulders again. This time, the gully dwarf, after a few tense moments of wobbling, managed to stand up. Tas heaved a sigh. Reaching out his dirty hands, Rounce—after a few false starts—gingerly placed them upon the black crystal globes.

Immediately, a curtain of light dropped down from the glowing circle in the ceiling, forming a brilliant wall around Tas and the gully dwarf. Runes appeared on the ceiling, glowing red and violet.

And, with a heart-stopping lurch, the flying citadel began to move.

Down the stairs in the corridor below the Wind Captain’s Chair, the jolt sent draconians and their magic-user crashing to the floor. Tanis fell backward against a wall, and Caramon slammed into him.

Screaming and cursing, the Bozak wizard struggled to his feet. Stepping on his own men, who littered the corridor, and completely ignoring Tanis and Caramon, the draconian began to run toward the staircase leading up to the Wind Captain’s room.

“Stop him!” Caramon growled, pushing himself away from the wall as the citadel canted to one side like a sinking ship.

“I’ll try” Tanis wheezed, having had the breath knocked out of him, “but I think this bracelet is about used up.”

He made a lunge for the Bozak, but the citadel suddenly tipped in the opposite direction. Tanis missed and tumbled to the floor. The Bozak, intent only on stopping the thieves who were stealing his citadel, stumbled on toward the stairs. Drawing his dagger, Caramon hurled it at the Bozak’s back. But it struck a magical, invisible barrier around the black robes, and fell harmlessly to the floor.

The Bozak had just reached the bottom of the spiral stairs leading up to the Wind Captain’s room, the other draconians were finally regaining their feet, and Tanis was just nearing the Bozak once again when the citadel leaped straight up into the air. The Bozak fell backward on top of Tanis, draconians went flying everywhere, and Caramon, just barely managing to keep his feet, jumped on the Bozak wizard.

The sudden gyrations of the tower broke the mage’s concentration—the Bozak’s protection spell failed. The draconian fought desperately with its clawed hands, but Caramon—dragging the creature off Tanis—thrust his sword into the Bozak just as the wizard began shrieking another chant.

The draconian’s body dissolved instantly in a horrible yellow pool, sending clouds of foul, poisonous smoke billowing through the chamber.

“Get away!” Tanis cried, stumbling toward an open window, coughing. Leaning out, he took a deep breath of fresh air, then gasped.

“Tas!” he shouted, “we’re going the wrong way! I said northwest!”

He heard the kender’s shrill voice cry, “Think northwest, Rounce! Northwest.”

“Rounce?” Caramon muttered, coughing and glancing at Tanis in sudden alarm.

“How me think of two direction same time?” demanded a voice. “You want go north or you want go west? Make up mind.”

“Northwest!” cried Tas. “It’s one direc—oh, never mind. Look, Rounce, you think north and I’ll think west. That might work.”

Closing his eyes, Caramon sighed in despair and slumped against a wall.

“Tanis,” he said, “Maybe you better—”

“No time,” Tanis answered grimly, his sword in his hand. “Here they come.”

But the draconians, thrown into confusion by the death of their leader and completely unable to comprehend what was happening to their citadel, were eyeing each other—and their enemy—askance. At that moment, the flying citadel changed direction again, heading off northwest and dropping down about twenty feet at the same time.

Turning, tripping, shoving and sliding, the draconians ran down the corridor and disappeared back through the secret way they had come.

“We’re finally going in the right direction,” Tanis reported, staring out the window. Joining him, Caramon saw the Tower of High Sorcery drawing nearer and nearer.

“Good! Let’s see what’s going on,” Caramon muttered, starting to climb the stairs.

“No, wait”—Tanis stopped him—“Tas can’t see, apparently. We’re going to have to guide him. Besides, those draconians might come back any moment.”

“I guess you’re right,” Caramon said, peering up the stairs dubiously.

“We should be there in a few minutes,” Tanis said, leaning against the window ledge wearily. “But I think we’ve got time enough for you to tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s hard to believe,” said Tanis softly, looking out the window again, “even of Raistlin.”

“I know,” Caramon said, his voice edged with sorrow. “I didn’t want to believe it, not for a long time. But when I saw him standing before the Portal and when I heard him tell what he was going to do to Crysania, I knew that the evil had finally eaten into his soul.”

“You are right, you must stop him,” Tanis said, reaching out to grip the big mans hand in his own.

“But, Caramon, does that mean you have to go into the Abyss after him? Dalamar is in the Tower, waiting at the Portal. Surely, the two of you together can prevent Raistlin from coming through. You don’t need to enter the Portal yourself—”