Chris Pierson - Dezra's Quest

The gray stone surrounding them yielded, more and more, to shining crystal. The air grew warmer. Then, with no more warning than a sudden blast of wind, the tunnel ended in open air and a dark, starry sky. The sprites flew out of the passage; Borlos nearly followed, but Trephas pulled him back.

"Careful," the centaur warned. "Another step, and thou would have regretted it."

Borlos looked down, past his feet, and gasped.

"What's the matter?" Caramon asked, craning to see.

Dezra elbowed forward and followed Borlos's gaze down. She caught her breath, her eyes wide. "Huma's wooden teeth," she swore.

The tunnel had opened in the middle of a sheer cliff of white crystal, high above the ground. They were somewhere in the mountains-that much was clear from the shadowed crags before them-but that was all Dezra could tell. "Oh," she grumbled. "Well, that's just marvelous."

"Where are the sprites?" Caramon asked.

"Gone. Bloody bugs stranded us here," Dezra said. She threw up her hands. "What do we do now? Grow wings?"

Trephas chuckled. "That's what I said yesterday, when they took me to the Laird. Don't fret: they'll come back."

A brief eternity later, they heard a familiar sound: the flutter of wings. The sound grew steadily louder, then a broad, flat shape emerged from the darkness.

Caramon squinted, trying to make it out. "It looks like a blanket."

They saw, as it got closer, that it was just that: large enough to cover a king's bed, and well-woven in blue and gold. Several dozen sprites carried it toward the cliff, pulling it taut as they approached. They swooped down out of sight, then rose back up, coming to a hovering stop a yard past the tunnel's end. Fanuin and Ellianthe flew forward to float before the companions.

"It would be best," said Ellianthe, "if ye take off yer boots afore ye climb on the lugruidh."

The companions stared at the blanket, their faces the color of whey. "It'll never hold us all," Caramon hissed. "Even if it was just Trephas or me-"

"It was just me, yesterday," the centaur put in. "And earlier today, when I came back to fetch thee. Besides, we don't have much choice-this is the only way to go."

"All right," Borlos said. "I'll go first."

He pulled off his boots, then tossed them and his packs over. Holding his breath, he sprung forward, into the void. The lugruidh dipped slightly as he landed, then the sprites recovered and lifted it back up again. Borlos turned back to the others and grinned.

"It's fine," he said. "Come over."

Trephas followed, then, reluctantly, Caramon stepped across the gap. He let out a yell, the lugruidh dropping several feet, then sat down heavily as the sprites again arrested its fall. Dezra wrung her hands, staring at it in disgust.

"Come on, Dez," Caramon said. The lugruidh wobbled as he got to his feet. "I'll catch you."

"No," Dezra insisted. "I'll do it myself."

They gave her room, clearing as large a space as they could. She tossed her boots to Trephas, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Just then, she heard the scraping sound of the stone against stone. She didn't need to glance back to know the tunnel was closing behind her. She leapt, and the passage sealed shut, as if it had never been.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Caramon asked Borlos as they glided among the mountains. He and the bard sat together, hunched in their cloaks to ward off the cold wind. Dezra and Trephas stood at the lugruidh's forward edge, talking with the sprites.

Borlos snorted. "Are you kidding? Even if it were daytime, I don't think I'd have a clue. I wouldn't even wager we were on Krynn at all, except for the stars."

Caramon glanced up. Sure enough, the stars were all there, even the red one that always shone in the north. "Well," he allowed, "I guess that's a relief."

The miles slid by, the lugruidh moving with surprising speed. The sprites didn't seem to tire, and passed the time by singing in their lilting tongue. The melody was strange, mixing joy and melancholy in a manner an elven harper would have envied. Borlos tried to play along on his lyre, but his deft fingers proved too clumsy to capture the song's unearthly beauty. He put the instrument away.

After an hour-more than a day in the outside world-a distant light appeared. It was a bluish glow, like the bug-lamps, coming from behind a ridge between two snowy mountaintops. Fanuin and Ellianthe called out, and the sprites' song changed to a simpler, brighter tune. The lugruidh turned toward the light, picking up speed. Now they were three miles from it, now two, now one… .

Then, suddenly, there were sprites all around them, bows drawn. Caramon regarded them warily. He had a feeling their arrows weren't tipped with harmless sleep-poison.

"Keep still," he told Borlos.

"I couldn't move if I wanted to," the bard replied tensely, staring at the sprites.

Fanuin and Ellianthe buzzed forward to speak with the leader of the archers. After a quick, unintelligible conversation, the commander yelled to his bowmen. “ Nadh mhoirra !" he called. " Fin oc Guithern ."

The archers lowered their bows, falling in on either side of the lugruidh as it moved on, toward the ridge.

Fanuin flitted over to the humans, doffing his cap. "I'm sorry if we frightened ye. Goidrach there-he's the one we talked to-is in charge of making sure no one intrudes on my father's court. He's quite good at it, as ye saw."

"But how'd they sneak up on us?" Dezra asked. "I didn't see them coming-they were just there, all of a sudden."

Fanuin raised his eyebrows. "That? Oh, that's easy," he said, and vanished.

The humans started. A moment later, Ellianthe appeared just as suddenly, in his place.

"More faerie magic," Caramon muttered.

"Ye could call it that, aye," Ellianthe replied. "It's more a talent than a spell-we learn to make ourselves invisible the way the bard there learned to play his lyre." She disappeared, though the sound of her laughing voice remained. "See?"

Dezra nodded, impressed. "Handy talent."

"Aye," said Fanuin, grinning as he popped back into view. "A pity we can't teach ye. Now, look! We're coming up on Gwethyryn."

They passed over the ridge, almost brushing the tops of the firs that grew on it. When they could see past it, they beheld a wide, bowl-shaped crater. It might have been a volcano once, long ago; now it was carpeted with rich grass and looming trees-mostly firs, but some aspen and ash. The rippling sea of their leaves and needles rivaled Darken Wood in its untainted beauty. Hundreds of bug-lamps hung among the trees, their glow filling the forest with blue witchlight. Clouds of moths and other insects flitted about them.

There were other flying things, too: Hundreds of sprites fluttered both above and among the trees, their silvery wings flashing with reflected light. They were all brightly attired, in bright yellows and oranges, pale greens and blues, rich reds and violets. Most were young, with gold or copper hair, but some had silver locks that identified them as elders. All of them wore swords, and many also had quivers of arrows on their backs.

As soon as the lugruidh reached the vale, a crowd began to form, swarming like locusts in the hopes of glimpsing the giants from far away. Goidrach directed his men to clear a path. For several minutes, as they passed through the swarm, there was nowhere the companions could look where they didn't meet the curious, suspicious gazes of the winged folk.

"Where do they all live?" Borlos asked. "I haven't seen anything like a house on the ground."

"That's because we don't dwell on the ground," Ellianthe replied. "Many of our people make their homes in clefts among the mountaintops. They tend fields of moss and herd beetles and bees. Those who practice crafts, or who are close to the Laird, live here, in the trees-either within the wood itself, or in houses among their boughs."