Margaret Weis - Dragons of Autumn Twilight

The Seeker lurched across the floor to the barbarian woman, who was staring at him in disgust. He reached clumsily for her staff.

"No," the woman called Goldmoon spoke coolly. "That is mine. You cannot take it."

"Witch!" the Seeker sneered. "I am the High Theocrat! I take what I want."

He started to make another grab for the staff. The woman's tall companion rose to his feet. "The Chieftain's Daughter says you will not take it," the man said harshly. He shoved the Seeker backward.

The tall man's push was not rough, but it knocked the drunken Theocrat completely off balance. His arms flailing wildly, he tried to catch himself. He lurched forward-too far-tripped over his official robes, and fell head first into the roaring fire.

There was a whoosh and a flare of light, then a sickening smell of burning flesh. The Theocrat's scream tore through the stunned silence as the crazed man leaped to his feet and started whirling around in a frenzy. He had become a living torch!

Tanis and the others sat, unable to move, paralyzed with the shock of the incident. Only Tasslehoff had wits enough to run forward, anxious to try and help the man. But the Theocrat was screaming and waving his arms, fanning the flames that were consuming his clothes and his body. There seemed no way that the little kender could help him.

"Here!" The old man grabbed the barbarian's feather-decorated staff and handed it to the kender. "Knock him down. Then we can smother the fire."

Tasslehoff took the staff. He swung it, using all his strength, and hit the Theocrat squarely in the chest. The man fell to the ground. There was a gasp from the crowd. Tasslehoff himself stood, opened-mouthed, the staff clutched in his hand, staring down at the amazing sight at his feet. The flames had died instantly. The man's robes were whole, undamaged. His skin was pink and healthy. He sat up, a look of fear and awe on his face. He stared down at his hands and his robes. There was not a mark on his skin. There was not the smallest cinder smoking on his robes.

"It healed him!" the old man proclaimed loudly. "The staff Look at the staff!"

Tasslehoff s eyes went to the staff in his hands. It was made of blue crystal and was glowing with a bright blue light!

The old man began shouting. "Call the guards! Arrest the kender! Arrest the barbarians! Arrest their friends! I saw them come in with this knight." He pointed at Sturm.

"What?" Tanis leaped up. "Are you crazy, old man?"

"Call the guards!" The word spread. "Did you see-? The blue crystal staff? We've found it. Now they'll leave us alone. Call the guards!"

The Theocrat staggered to his feet, his face pale, blotched with red. The barbarian woman and her companion stood up, fear and alarm in their faces.

"Foul witch!" Hederick's voice shook with rage. "You have cured me with evil! Even as I burn to purify my flesh, you will burn to purify your soul!" With that, the Seeker reached out, and before anyone could stop him, he plunged his hand back into the flames! He gagged with the pain but did not cry out. Then, clutching his charred and blackened hand, he turned and staggered off through the murmuring crowd, a wild look of satisfaction on his pain-twisted face.

"You've got to get out of here!" Tika came running over to Tanis, her breath coming in gasps. "The whole town's been hunting for that staff! Those hooded men told the Theocrat they'd destroy Solace if they caught someone harboring the staff. The townspeople will turn you over to the guards!"

"But it's not our staff!" Tanis protested. He glared at the old man and saw him settle back into his chair, a pleased smile on his face. The old man grinned at Tanis and winked.

"Do you think they'll believe you!" Tika wrung her hands. "Look!"

Tanis looked around. People were glaring at them balefully. Some took a firm grip on their mugs. Others eased their hands onto the hilts of their swords. Shouts from down below drew his eyes back to his friends.

"The guards are coming!" exclaimed Tika.

Tanis rose. "We'll have to go out through the kitchen."

"Yes!" She nodded. "They won't look back there yet. But hurry. It won't take them long to surround the place."

Years of being apart had not affected the companions' ability to react as a team to threat of danger. Caramon had pulled on his shining helm, drawn his sword, shouldered his pack, and was helping his brother to his feet. Raistlin, his staff in his hand, was moving around the table. Flint had hold of his,battle-axe and was frowning darkly at the onlookers, who seemed hesitant about rushing to attack such well-armed men. Only Sturm sat, calmly drinking his ale.

"Sturm!" Tanis said urgently. "Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

"Run?" The knight appeared astonished. "From this rabble?"

"Yes." Tanis paused; the knight's code of honor forbade running from danger. He had to convince him. "That man is a religious fanatic, Sturm. He'll probably burn us at the stake! And"-a sudden thought rescued him-"there is a lady to protect."

"The lady, of course." Sturm stood up at once and walked over to the woman. "Madam, your servant." He bowed; the courtly knight would not be hurried. "It seems we are all in this together. Your staff has placed us in considerable danger-you most of all. We are familiar with the area around here, we grew up here. You, I know, are strangers. We would be honored to accompany you and your gallant friend and guard your lives."

"Come on!" Tika urged, tugging on Tanis's arm. Caramon and Raistlin were already at the kitchen door.

"Get the kender," Tanis told her.

Tasslehoff stood, rooted to the floor, staring at the staff. It was rapidly fading back to its nondescript brown color. Tika grabbed Tas by his topknot and pulled him toward the kitchen. The kender shrieked, dropping the staff. Goldmoon swiftly picked it up, clutching it close to her. Although frightened, her eyes were clear and steady as she looked at Sturm and Tanis; she was apparently thinking rapidly. Her companion said a harsh word in their language. She shook her head. He frowned and made a slashing motion with his hand. She snapped a quick reply and he fell silent, his face dark.

"We will go with you," Goldmoon said to Sturm in the Common tongue. "Thank you for the offer."

"This way!" Tanis herded them out through the swinging kitchen doors following Tika and Tas. He glanced behind him and saw some of the crowd move forward, but in no great hurry.

The cook stared at them as they ran through the kitchen. Caramon and Raistlin were already at the exit, which was nothing more than a hole cut in the floor. A rope hung from a sturdy limb above the hole and dropped forty feet to the ground.

"Ah!" exclaimed Tas, laughing. "Here the ale comes up and the garbage goes down." He swung out onto the rope and shinnied down easily.

"I'm sorry about this," Tika apologized to Goldmoon, "but it is the only way out of here."

"I can climb down a rope." Then the woman smiled and added, "Though I admit it has been many years."

She handed her staff to her companion and grasped the stout rope. She began to descend, moving skillfully hand over hand. When she had reached the bottom, her companion tossed the staff down, swung on the rope, and dropped through the hole.

"How are you going to get down, Raist?" Caramon asked, his face lined with concern. "I can carry you on my back-"

Raistlin's eyes flashed with an anger that startled Tanis. "I can get down myself!" the mage hissed. Before anyone could stop him, he stepped to the edge of the hole and leaped out into the air. Everyone gasped and peered down, expecting to see Raistlin splattered all over the ground. Instead, they saw the young mage gently floating down, his robes fluttering around him. The crystal on his staff glowed brightly.