Margaret Weis - Dragons of Autumn Twilight

"What is it?" Flint shouted.

"Draco-thing-a-ma-jiggers," Tas said, gripping his hoopak and peering through the mists. "Two ahead! Here they come!"

"Well, confound it, get out of my way!" Flint snarled. Reaching behind, he fumbled for his axe.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Tas shouted wildly.

"Duck!" yelled the dwarf.

The kender ducked, throwing himself down on the log as one of the draconians came toward him, its clawed hands outstretched. Flint swung his axe in a mighty blow that would have decapitated the draconian if it had come anywhere near it. Unfortunately, the dwarf miscalculated and the blade whistied harmlessly in front of the draconian who was waving its hands in the air and chanting strange words.

The momentum of Flint's swing spun the dwarf around. His feet slipped on the slimy log, and, with a loud cry, the dwarf tumbled backwards into the water.

Tasslehoff, having been around Raistlin for years, recognized that the draconian was casting a magic spell. Lying face down on the log, his hoopak staff clutched in his hand, the kender figured he had about one and a half seconds to consider what to do. The dwarf was gasping and spluttering in the water beneath him. Not inches away, the draconian was clearly reaching a stunning conclusion to his spellcasting. Deciding that anything was better than being magicked, Tas took a deep breath and dove off the log.

"Tanis! Ambush!"

"Damn!" swore Caramon as the kender's voice floated to them out of the mist somewhere ahead.

They all began running toward the sound, cursing the vines and the tree branches that blocked their way. Crashing out through the forest, they saw the fallen ironclaw bridge. Four draconians ran out of the shadows, blocking their path.

Suddenly the companions were plunged into darkness too thick to see their own hands, much less their comrades.

"Magic!" Tanis heard Raistlin hiss. "These are magic-users. Stand aside. You cannot fight them."

Then Tanis heard the mage cry out in agony.

"Raist!" Caramon shouted. «Where-ugh-» There was a groan and the sound of a heavy body thudding to the ground.

Tanis heard the draconians chanting. Even as he fumbled for his sword, he was suddenly covered, head to toe, in a thick, gooey substance that clogged up his nose and mouth. Struggling to free himself, he only enmeshed himself further. He heard Sturm swearing next to him, Goldmoon cried out, Riverwind's voice was choked off, then drowsiness overcame him. Tanis sank to his knees, still fighting to free himself from the weblike substance that glued his hands to his sides. Then he fell forward on his face and sank into an unnatural sleep.

Laying on the ground, panting for breath, Tasslehoff watched as the draconians prepared to carry off his unconscious friends. The kender was well-hidden beneath a bush near the swamp. The dwarf was stretched out next to him, knocked out cold. Tas glanced at him in remorse. He'd had no choice. In his panic, Flint had dragged the kender down in the cold water. If he hadn't clunked the dwarf over the head with his hoopak staff, neither of them would have surfaced alive. He'd hauled the comatose dwarf up out of the water and hidden him beneath a bush.

Then Tasslehoff watched helplessly as the draconians bound his friends magically in what looked like strong spider webs. Tas saw they were all apparently unconscious-or dead- because they didn't struggle or put up a fight.

The kender did get a certain amount of grim amusement out of watching the draconians try to pick up Goldmoon's staff. Evidently they recognized it, for they croaked over it in their gutteral language and made gestures of glee. One-presumably the leader-reached out to grasp it. There was a flash of blue light. Giving a screeching cry, the draconian dropped the staff and hopped up and down on the bank, uttering words Tas assumed were impolite. The leader finally came up with an ingenious idea. Pulling a fur blanket from Goldmoon's pack, the draconian laid it down on the ground. The creature picked up a stick and used it to roll the staff onto the blanket. Then it gingerly wrapped the staff in the fur and lifted it up triumphantly. The draconians lifted the webbed bodies of the kender's friends and bore them away. Other draconians followed behind, carrying the companions' packs and their weapons.

As the draconians marched along a path very near the hidden kender, Flint suddenly groaned and stirred. Tas clamped his hand over the dwarf's mouth. The draconians didn't seem to hear and kept moving. Tas could see his friends clearly in the fading afternoon light as the draconians passed. They seemed to be sound asleep. Caramon was even snoring. The kender remembered Raistlin's sleep spell and figured that was what the draconians had used on his friends.

Flint groaned again. One of the draconians near the end of the line stopped and peered into the brush. Tas picked up his hoopak and held it over the dwarf's head-just in case. But it wasn't needed. The draconian shrugged and muttered to itself, then hurried to catch up with its squad. Sighing in relief, Tas took his hand off the dwarf's mouth. Flint blinked and opened his eyes.

"What happened?" The dwarf moaned, his hand on his head.

"You fell off the bridge and hit your head on a log," Tas said glibly.

"I did?" Flint looked suspicious. "I don't remember that. I remember one of those draconian things coming at me and I remember falling into the water-"

Well, you did, so don't argue," Tas said hurriedly, getting to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," the dwarf snapped. He stood up, a little wobbly, but erect. "Where is everybody?"

"The draconians captured them and carried them off."

"All of them?" Flints mouth fell open. "Just like that?"

"These draconians were magic-users," Tas said impatiently, anxious to get started. "They cast spells, I guess. They didn't hurt them, except for Raistlin. I think they did something terrible to him. I saw him as they passed. He looked awful. But he's the only one." The kender tugged on the dwarf's wet sleeve. "Let's go-we've got to follow them."

"Yeah, sure," Flint mumbled, looking around. Then he put his hand on head again. "Where's my helm?"

"At the bottom of the swamp," Tas said in exasperation. "Do you want to go in after it?"

The dwarf gave the murky water a horrified glance, shivered, and turned away hurriedly. He put his hand to his head again and felt a large bump. "I sure don't remember hitting my head," he muttered. Then a sudden thought struck him. He felt around his back wildly. "My axe!" he cried.

"Hush!" Tas scolded. "At least you're alive. Now we've got to rescue the others."

"And how do you propose to do that without any weapons except that overgrown slingshot?" Flint grumbled, stumping along after the fast-moving kender.

"We'll think of something," Tas said confidently, though he felt as if his heart were getting tangled up his feet, it had sunk so low.

The kender picked up the draconians' trail without any trouble. It was obviously an old and well-used trail; it looked as though hundreds of draconian feet had tramped along it. Tasslehoff, examining the tracks, suddenly realized that they might be walking into a large camp of the monsters. He shrugged. No use worrying about such minor details.

Unfortunately, Flint didn't share the same philosophy. "There's a whole damn army up there!" the dwarf gasped, grabbing the kender by the shoulder.

"Yes, well-" Tas paused to consider the situation. He brightened. "That's all the better. The more of them there are, the less chance they'll have of seeing us." He started off again. Flint frowned. There was something wrong with that logic, but right now he couldn't figure out what, and he was too wet and chilled to argue. Besides, he was thinking the same thing the kender was; the only other choice they had was to escape into the swamp themselves and leave their friends in the hands of the draconians. And that was no choice at all.