Kevin Stein: Brothers Majere

Arriving in the center of the city. Earwig discovered an army of the ugly creatures marching about in the street, shouting and singing in terrible-sounding voices. The kender was feeling disgruntled and out-of-sorts and didn't particularly want to talk to anybody, so he ducked into a doorway to take a look around. Across from where he was standing was a tall, domed building.

"Say!" exclaimed Earwig. "That's where Lady Shavas is supposed to have her house. Drat! Maybe I've come the wrong way."

But he looked at the streets and recognized them. Yes, he was definitely in the center of town.

"I should go tell her," said the thoughtful kender, completely forgetting what Raistlin had told him about the Dark Queen's temple. "Lady Shavas might not know her house is gone."

Earwig stepped out from the doorway and was about to cross the street (eyeing with interest some of the pouches the creatures were carrying), when he heard a smothered cry, almost right behind him.

"Earwig. Over here!"

"Caramon?" The kender squinted into the shadows and saw a glint of metal.

"Caramon?" he called loudly. "Is that you?"

An arm reached out, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him into an alleyway.

"Hey! Don't! You'll wrinkle my – "

"Shut up!" Caramon clapped his hand over the ken-der's mouth.

The warrior, holding the wriggling kender tightly, peered out into the street. The marching demons were making a great deal of noise and didn't appear to have heard anything.

"Shhhh!" he whispered, letting go of Earwig slowly.

The kender stared at him, face flushing in anger. "You've been fighting again!" Earwig cried, stamping his foot. "Without me!"

"I'm sorry," Caramon growled. "Keep your voice down! Have you seen the Cat Lord?"

"Sure," said Earwig.

Caramon brightened. "You have? Where?"

"Right there." The kender pointed.

Caramon turned, hand on his sword. Bast stood in the shadows, a graceful form, his skin a deeper shade of black against the darkness.

Leaning back against the wall, Caramon drew a deep breath. His shoulder burned, but his fear was stronger than the pain, driving it somewhere deep inside of him. He hated this place. He would have traded this army of demons for six armies of goblins, with a regiment of hobgoblins thrown in.

"Where is the whatever-it-is that we're supposed to break? In that building?"

"No. The temple is used as a tunnel between the worlds. The Dark Queen's altar is beneath the city."

"In the same place that big stone disk was in," Earwig stated helpfully.

"Correct," said the Cat Lord. "I will show you how to go there, but I cannot assist you in more than that."

Seeing Caramon scowl. Bast added, "My forces and I will be fighting in the city above. Already, the demon army marches down the streets of Mereklar, headed for the gates that, if they should open, would let them out onto an unsuspecting world. Time grows short, the Great Eye burns in the heavens. Follow me!"

Caramon, groaning, heaved himself from the wall on which he'd been leaning.

"You really look bad, Caramon," said Earwig in concern. "Are you sure you can make it? Here, you can lean on my hoopak."

Caramon glanced at the frail wooden stick and, smiling, shook his head. "I'll make it. I have to."

"Now! This way," urged Bast.

He slid around the corner and the companions followed, keeping to the shadows. The Cat Lord moved like part of the night, and even the kender's light footfalls sounded loud compared to Bast's. Caramon rattled and jangled, his breath came in grunting gasps, and he gritted his teeth against the pain that every move jarred through his body. After traversing several blocks, they either left

the creatures behind or the demons were moving up into the city of Mereklar.

"I know this street," said Caramon suddenly.

"You should." The man in black bent down. Lifting a metal grating from the stone, he pointed down into a black hole. Caramon could hear the sound of running water.

'This tunnel will lead you where you must go," said the Cat Lord. "You must destroy the altar as quickly as possible. It will detect any tampering and alert its mistress."

"You mean it's alive?" the kender questioned with interest.

"In a manner of speaking. Good-bye, warrior and kender. I will not see you again. Your own gods be with you."

"Wait!" Caramon yelled, reaching out his hand. But he grasped hold of air. The Lord of Cats was gone, vanishing as silently as the night into day.

"What did you want with him?" asked Earwig, preparing to jump into the sewer.

"I wanted to ask him how to get back home," said Caramon softly.

Demons dropped from their world through the gate to the real city of Mereklar, landing on their feet with perfect agility. They gazed about with yellow eyes, finally freed from their other-world prison. Mereklar was theirs. They would soon take the rest of Krynn.

They moved forward in small packs, heading toward the city gates, prepared to break out and flood the world with darkness. They had no fear. Their enemy, the cats that once guarded the city, were now dead.

But the gates were closed and would not open, guarded by magic built into them by the gods of good.

Forming into ranks, demon attack groups knelt and Bnottjens pointed their wands at the heavy portcullises enclosing the city, firing red streams at the thick metal plates in an attempt to burn them down. Their power, however, had no effect, though they tried for a long time. Sheathing their weapons, they attempted to force the gates with their great strength, but the might of the city's builders kept them safe.

At Westgate, a commander recalled its troops from their work and sent for reinforcements. The demons retreated at the order, some snarling and baring their teeth in anger.

The commander sniffed at the air, turning its head, checking the air for a scent it recognized, a scent it feared and hated. Moving up to the gate, it glared into the darkness outside the city wall – darkness lit by the Great Eye. Its muzzle twitched in alarm.

"Weapons out – "

The sweep of a claw cut through its back, rending the flesh from the bone in a spray of watery blood. The demon fell to the ground, lifeless. A huge tiger stood over its body, the demon's fur hanging from its paw. The enemy fired its deadly bolts at the beast, but it had vanished.

"Find it!" a demon yelled, pointing up the street.

Five of the troops obeyed the command, running after the tiger with the speed of darkness, rounding corners and searching through hidden alleys and side streets.

Within minutes, their bodies were thrown into the avenue, dismembered, rent and torn by giant claws.

The demons were furious. Red explosions concussed the air, scattering boxes, wood, and metal. The invisible enemy did not appear to have been hit. More demons were struck down, and the creatures began to mill about in frustration.

"Reinforcements!" cried one, waving up the street.

Another contingent of demons moved cautiously toward their position, searching the darkness with keen yellow eyes, sniffing at the air in distaste. They Purged over a carriage, surrounding it, using it as a point of cover. Eventually they reached the first group, and a demon wearing a harness with a gold medallion in the center asked what had happened.

In reply, some of the demons pointed to their dead leader. "We were told the cats were dead," it said, snarling.

"I guess someone made a mistake," said another.

"Yeah, I wonder what other mistakes they've made this night. You stay here and wait for additional troops. When they arrive, work on opening that gate." It turned, directing the forces into position. "Form into squads and find the enemy. I want them dead!"

Twisted bodies gathered together into groups of five with a quickness and efficiency the Knights of Solamnia would have envied. They appeared to need no further guidance than a single order, cooperating perfectly with one another. After a moment they moved out, lithe forms, shadow in shadows.