Barbara Siegel - Tanis the shadow years

'This spell that he gave away, the one that you said might help us, do you know what it is7" Tanis asked.

'That's the peculiar part. It's a totally useless spell to the Dead in our world. The spell allows the Living to leave the Dead; it's the kind of spell-"

"— that Kishpa would have loved when he was alive," exulted Brandella. "It is exactly the kind of useless spell he collected, something that would be just as useless in the world of the Living as it is in the world of the Dead."

"Except to us," Tanis added.

"And he must have known that," she cried, tears joyfully running down her face.

"You keep on like that," warned Softfire, "and I'm going to have to dry you all over again."

Brandella kissed the dragon's heavily scaled cheek while happily crying out to Tanis, "Don't you see7"

"Yes," Tanis admitted, surprised by the jealousy he felt. Even after Kishpa's death, it seemed, the half-elf could not compete with the mage. "We must find someone who has the spell-and quickly, because we will grow weaker with no food or water. And it must be someone who will share it with us."

"SoftfireI" Brandella demanded. "I've heard that certain dragons were magic-users. Do you know the spell?"

The old silver dragon shook his head. "I can't help you with that. The only magic I know is keeping my lips from' burning when I breathe fire."

"Where can we find a magic-user who will know the spell?" Brandella insisted.

Softfire pointed his nose toward the dark mountain. "As I said, Death is a far-flung place; there's quite a lot of room for new arrivals. The closest mage is him. Fistan- dantilus will surely know the spell and know how to invoke it."

Tanis felt a chill of fear encircle his spine. Softfire fixed him with a wise gaze, seeming to know how he felt about the evil wizard. "But beware," warned the dragon. "If he helps you, he will exact a price-and it may not be one you want to pay."

"I can hardly swallow," Brandella said painfully.

Tanis had been daydreaming about ale and spiced potatoes at the Inn of the Last Home. "The water Behobiphi gave us before we left didn't help at all. And neither did the food," he complained. "My throat has never been so dry."

They had no choice but to trudge on.

Told by Softfire that Fistandantilus lived in a hut at the top of the foothills, they had already climbed for several hours without finding the wizard's home.

Dark clouds hovered at the peak of Fistandantilus's towering mountain. A cold drizzle fell upon them as they climbed still higher, the water offering no pleasure to their tongues. Nothing grew on the huge slag heap of evil above them; it ran with sulphurous mud, and sharp, dark stones stood out from the sides like monstrous daggers.

A short while later, they stumbled upon a ramshackle hut partially hidden by a mudslide. Its roof was falling down and, from inside, they heard pitiful moans and groans. Brandella went white, and Tanis felt his insides tighten in fear.

"Something terrible is happening in there," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe the wizard is hurt or ill," Brandella countered without much conviction.

"Fistandantilus isn't like Kishpa. Fistandantilus was one of the most evil mages who ever lived. Most likely, he's torturing someone." Tanis could see by the flash of her brown eyes that he'd said exactly what she was really thinking and that she didn't appreciate his putting her thoughts into words.

The moans grew louder and more insistent, almost as if whoever was in pain knew they were out there and was entreating them to come to his rescue.

"Fistandantilus?" Tanis called out.

The wails stopped.

"Show yourself," Tanis insisted.

"I choose not to," the voice rasped. A dead plant exploded into flame only feet away. Tanis leaped between Brandella and the threat, and the voice laughed. "Don't bother, Half-Elven. Fistandantilus is everywhere."

Tanis took Brandella's hand.

"You do not show yourself because you can't," Tanis proclaimed with a show of bravado.

Brandella looked at the half-elf with warning. "Careful," she mouthed.

"Why are you here?" the deadly voice demanded.

"If you are so powerful, then show yourself," Tanis repeated.

There was a tension-filled pause before Fistandantilus spoke again. "Half-elf, I tire of this. I have been in this state of invisibility since long before I died, when I traded my corporal being for extra years of life. That meant I also agreed to give up my body in this world, as well."

"If you have no body," asked Brandella, shivering as much from fear as from the raw, damp wind, "then what are you?"

"I am magic," came the reply.

Tanis felt Brandella's hand grow moist in his own. Or perhaps it was he who was sweating; he could not tell for certain.

Although they saw no one, they sensed Fistandantilus eyeing them and felt naked before him. Finally, with an edge of menace to his voice, the dead mage asked, "What brings Tanis and Brandella to my mountain?"

"If you know our names, than you know our reason," Tanis said, surprising himself with his own boldness. After all, Fistandantilus had used his magic to destroy two massive armies, including his own troops, during the Dwarfgate War. What was to stop the wizard, even on a whim, from destroying one human woman and a half- elf?

Laughter cascaded around them. 'True," the menacing voice sibilated. "I've been walking with you in these foothills for quite some time now. Too bad about your thirst. Nothing I can do about it as long as you're alive. When you die of thirst tomorrow, though, come back and I'll conjure you a whole sea of cold, clean water.

"You are magic," Tanis said bitterly, "but you are powerless to help us. You are even powerless to help yourself."

This time the sound that surrounded them bore no resemblance to laughter. Like a thousand voices crying out in pain, a scream shivered through the rocks and made their skin crawl. Then they heard the words: "I did not create this mountain of darkness, of gloom, of horror, by helping anyone… except myself." The wind blew up hard and cold, a burning, wet spray lashing their faces as the rain whipped down from a gray and tumultuous sky. "If I help you," he said harshly, "it is because you will help me in return. Or you will die."

"What do you want?" Tanis asked warily.

'To return to Life with you."

"There are many risks I would take to return to the Living," Tanis said slowly, knowing that he might be consigning himself and Brandella to death, "but I would not want it on my conscience that I was the one who returned Fistandantilus to Krynn." "So noble," the wizard said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You won't soil your hands, but what about the woman? Are you so cavalier with her life that you condemn her without asking if she feels as you do?" "He need not ask," Brandella resolutely sang out. "You give us the chance to die heroes by refusing your bargain. We thank you for it."

Tanis squeezed her hand, but he dared not look at the brave woman who stood by his side. She warmly returned the caress. The half-elf found himself strangely unafraid of his fate. The only thing he wanted in life, he felt, was to wrap his arms around the weaver and hold her close. The presence of the unseen Fistandantilus, however, kept him rooted in place.

"You care so much for the living, but what do you care for the dead?" the wizard said ominously. A lifeless tree behind them cracked and fell, sparks flying as it struck the dead ground.

'You speak in riddles," said Tanis coolly, glad he was able to resist the instinct to flinch at the mage's explosive spells. "Say what you mean."

'There are many here whom you have known," the mage replied, his voice in harmony with the whining cold wind that shivered through the gnarled dead trees behind his dilapidated cabin. "I can look inside your minds to see those whom you have loved and lost. They exist here in my world." The wizard paused, and more rocks quaked and tumbled as if the mage had imbued them with life. If there was any doubt about Fistandanti- lus's meaning, he dispelled it when he finally said, "I cannot kill again those you once knew, but I can make their existence in Death as painful as the worst moments of their lives."