Kender, Gully Dwarves, Gnomes

Dragonlance - Tales 1 2 - Kender, Gully Dwarves, Gnomes Various

“Tas? Tasslehoff Burrfoot!” we shout sternly, peering down the road. “Come back with our
magical time-traveling device, you doorknob of a kender!”

“I'll come out,” shouts Tas, “if you tell me some more stories!”

“Promise?” we ask, peering behind bushes and into ravines.

“Oh, yes. I promise!” says Tas cheerfully. “Just let me get comfortable.” There is a
tremendous sound of rustling and tree-branch cracking. Then, “All right, I'm ready. Go
ahead. I love stories, you know. Did I ever tell you about the time I saved Sturm's life -
”

Tas goes on to tell US the first story in this new anthology set in the world of Krynn.
“Snowsong,” by Nancy Varian Berberick, relates an early adventure of the companions. Sturm
and Tanis, lost in a blizzard, have only one hope of being rescued - Tasslehoff Burrfoot!

“The Wizard's Spectacles,” by Morris Simon, is a “what- if” story. Tas always SAID he
found the Glasses of Arcanist in the dwarven kingdom. But what if ...

A storyteller tells his tales not wisely but too well in “The Storyteller,” by Barbara
Siegel and Scott Siegel.

“There's a lesson you could learn from that!” we yell to Tas, but he ignores us and goes
on to relate “A Shaggy Dog's Tail,” by Danny Peary. It is a kender favorite, undoubtedly
passed down from generation to generation although Tas, of course, swears that he knew
EVERYONE involved PERSONALLY!

Next, we hear the TRUE story of the demise of Lord Toede in “Lord Toede's Disastrous
Hunt,” by Harold Bakst. The minotaur race is the subject of “Definitions of Honor,”

by Rick Knaak. A young knight of Solamnia rides to the rescue of a village, only to
discover that his enemy threatens more than his life.

“Hearth Cat and Winter Wren,” by Nancy Varian Berberick, tells another of the Companions'
early adventures in which a young Raistlin uses his ingenuity to fight a powerful, evil
wizard.

“All right, Tas!” we call. “Will you come out now? We really MUST be going!”

“Those were truly wonderful stories,” yells the kender shrilly from his hiding place. “But
I want to hear more about Palin and his brothers. You remember. You told me the story last
time about how Raistlin gave Palin his magic staff. What happens next?”

Settling ourselves down on a sun-warmed, comfortable boulder, we relate “Wanna Bet?”,
Palin's very first adventure as a young mage. And certainly NOT the type of heroic quest
the brothers expected!

Still sitting on the boulder, we are somewhat startled to be suddenly confronted by a
gnome, who thrusts a manuscript at us. “Here, you! Tell the TRUE story about the so-called
Heroes of the Lance!” the gnome snarls and runs off. We are truly delighted to present for
your enjoyment, therefore, “Into the Heart of the Story,” a “treatise” by Michael Williams.

“Now, Tas!” we call threateningly. “Just one more?” he pleads. “All right, but this is the
last!” we add severely. "Dagger-

Flight," by Nick O'Donohoe, is a retelling of the beginning of DRAGONS OF AUTUMN TWILIGHT
as seen from a weird and deadly viewpoint - that of a sentient dagger!

“Tas, come out now!” we shout. “You promised.” Silence. “T as?” No answer.

Looking at each other, we smile, shrug, and continue on our way through Krynn. So much for
kender promises!

Tanis let the hinged lid of the wood bin fall. Its hollow thud might have been the sound
of a tomb's closing. Hope, cherished for all the long hours of the trek up the mountain,
fell abruptly dead. The wood bin was empty.

A brawling wind shrieked around the gaping walls of the crude shelter, whirling in through
the doorless entry and the broken roof. The storm had caught Tan-is and his friends
unaware at midday. Far below, in the warmer valleys, the autumn had not yet withered under
winter's icy cloak. But here in the mountains autumn had suddenly become nothing more
substantial than a memory. Esker was a day

and a half's journey behind them. Haven was a two-day trek ahead. Their only hope of
weathering the storm had been this shelter, one of the few maintained by the folk of Esker
and Haven as a sanctuary for storm-caught travelers. But now, with the blizzard raging
harder, it seemed that their hope might be as hollow as the empty wood bin.

Behind him the half-elf could hear Tas poking around the bleak shelter, his bright kender
spirit undaunted by the toll of the journey. There wasn't much to find. Shards of crockery
lay scattered around the hard-packed dirt floor. The one narrow table that had been the
shelter's only furnishing was now a heap of broken boards and splintered wood. After a
moment Tanis heard the tuneless notes of the shepherd's pipe that Tas had been trying to
play since he came by it several weeks ago. The kender had never succeeded in coaxing
anything from the shabby old instrument that didn't sound like a goat in agony. But he
tried, every chance he got, maintaining - every chance he got - that the pipe was
enchanted. Tanis was certain that the pipe had as much likelihood of being enchanted as he
had now of getting warm sometime soon.

“Oh, wonderful - the dreaded pipe,” Flint growled. “Tas! Not now!”

As though he hadn't heard, Tas went on piping.

With a weary sigh Tanis turned to see Flint sitting on his pack, trying with cold-numbed
hands to thaw the frozen snow from his beard. The old dwarf's muttered curses were a fine
testament to the sting of the ice's freezing pull.

Only Sturm was silent. He leaned against the door jamb, staring out into the blizzard as
though taking the measure of an opponent held, for a time, at bay.

“Sturm?” The boy turned his back on the waning day. “No wood?” “None.” Tanis shivered, and
it had little to do with the

cold. “Flint,” he called, “Tas, come here.” Grumbling, Flint rose from his pack. Tas
reluctantly abandoned his pipe and made a curious

foray past the empty wood bin. He'd gamboled through snow as high as his waist today, been
hauled, laughing like some gleeful snow sprite, out of drifts so deep that only the pennon
of his brown topknot marked the place where he'd sunk. Still his brown eyes were alight
with questions in a face polished red by the bite of the wind.

“Tanis, there's no wood in the bins,” he said. “Where do they keep it?”

“In the bins - when it's here. There is none, Tas.”

“None? What do you suppose happened to it? Do you think the storm came up so suddenly that
they didn't have a chance to stock the bin? Or do you suppose they're not stocking the
shelters anymore? From the look of this place no one's been here in a while. THAT would be
a shame, wouldn't it? It's going to be a long, cold night without a fire.”

“Aye,” Flint growled. “Maybe not as long as you think.”

Behind him Tanis heard Sturm draw a short, sharp breath. If Tas had romped through the
blizzard, Sturm had forged through with all the earnest determination he could muster.
Each time Tas foundered, Sturm was right beside Tanis to pull him out. His innate chivalry
kept him always ahead of Flint, blocking the wind's icy sting, breaking a broader path
than he might have for the old dwarf whose muttering and grumbling would never become a
plea for assistance.

But for all that, Tanis knew, the youth had never seen a blizzard like this one. He's
acquitted himself well, and more's the pity that I'll have to take him out with me yet
again, the half-elf thought to himself.

A roaring wind drove from the north, wet and bitter with snow. The climb to this tireless
shelter had left Tanis stiff and aching, numb and clumsy with the cold. He wanted nothing
less than to venture out into the screaming storm again. But his choices were between sure
death in the long black cold of night and one more trip into the storm. It was not, in the
end, a difficult choice to make.

“It won't come to that, Flint. We're going to have a fire.”

Flint's doubt was written in the hard set of his face. Tas looked from the wood bin to
Tanis. “But there's no wood, Tanis. I don't see how we're going to have a fire without
wood.”

Tanis drew a long breath against rising impatience. “We'll get wood. There was a stand of
pine trees along our way up. No doubt Sturm and I can get enough from there and be back
before nightfall.”

Tas brightened then. Now there would be something to do besides spending a long cold night
wondering what it would feel like to freeze solid. Shrugging closer into the

warmth of his furred vest, he started for the doorway. “I'll come, too,” he announced,
confident that his offer would be gratefully accepted.

“Oh, no.” Tanis clamped both hands on the kender's shoulders and caught him back. “You're
staying here with Flint.”

“But, Tanis - ”

“No. I mean it, Tas. The snow is drifting too high. This is something that Sturm and I
will do.”

“But you'll NEED my help, Tanis. I can carry wood, and we're going to need a lot of it if
we're not to freeze here tonight.”

Tanis glanced at Flint. He thought he might hear a similar argument from his old friend.
He forestalled it with a grim shake of his head, and Flint, recognizing but not liking the
wisdom of Tanis's decision, nodded agreement. With a dour sigh Flint went to gather up the
splintered wood that had once been the shelter's table.

“It's something,” he muttered. “Sturm, come give me a hand.”

Alone with Tas, Tanis went down on his heels. Mutiny lurked in Tas's long brown eyes.
There was a stubborn set to his jaw that told Tanis that the only way he'd get the kender
to stay behind would be to give him a charge that he considered, if not as interesting, at
least as important as the task of gathering fuel for a fire.

“Tas, now listen to me. We don't have many choices. I've never seen a storm like this one
come up so suddenly or so early. But it's here, and tonight it will be so cold that we
will not survive without a fire.”

“I know! That's why - ”

“No. Let me finish. I need you to stay here with Flint. It's going to be a dangerous trip
out for wood. The tracks we made only a short while ago are gone. I'll barely be able to
find the landmarks I need to get back to the pines. I have to know that you'll both be
here if we need you.”

“But, Tanis, you'll NEED me to help with the wood- gathering.”

The offer, Tanis knew, was sincere . . . for the moment. But as clearly as he might see
through a stream to the sparkling sand below, that clearly did he see the mischievous
kender-logic dancing in Tas's brown eyes. Tas had no fear of the killing cold, the
battering winds. The

prospect of the journey back to the pines held only joyous anticipation and a chance to
satisfy some of that unquenchable curiosity that had brought the kender to the crumbling
edge of many a catastrophe before now.

Well, I'm afraid! he thought. And it won't hurt for Tas to know why if it keeps him here.

“Tas, the best way to make certain we don't survive this night is to scatter, all four of
us, all over this mountain. That will be the fastest way to die. We're going to be
careful. But Sturm and I have to be able to depend on you two being here just in case one
of us needs to come back for help. Understand?”

Tas nodded slowly, trying to ease his disappointment with the sudden understanding that
Tanis was trusting him, depending on him.

“And I can count on you?”

“Yes, you can count on me,” Tas said solemnly. Privately he thought that staying behind,
no matter how virtuous it made him feel right now, might be just the least bit boring.

Despite the cold and the bitter wind chasing snow in through the open doorway, Tanis found
a smile for the kender. “Good. Now why don't you give Flint a hand, and tell Sturm that we
should be leaving.”

For a moment it seemed to Tanis that his charge wouldn't hold. He saw the struggle between
what Tas wanted to do and what he'd promised to do written on his face as easily as though
he were reading one of the kender's precious maps. But it was a brief war, and in the end,
Tas's promise won out.

Sturm emptied both his and Tanis's packs. He took up two small hand axes, tested their
blades, and prepared to leave. Tanis, preferring his bow and quiver if danger should
arise, left his sword with Flint.

“I won't need the extra weight, I think,” he said, handing the weapon to the old dwarf.

“Tanis, isn't there another way? I don't like this.”

Tanis dropped a hand onto his friend's shoulder. “You'd be alone if you did like it. Rest
easy; it's too cold out there to keep us gone long. Just keep Tas safe here with you. He
promised, but . . .”

Flint laughed grimly. “Aye, BUT. Don't worry. We'll both be here when you get back.” A
high squealing, Tas at

the pipe, tore around the shelter. Flint winced. “Although whether both of us will yet be
sane is another matter.”

With grave misdoubt Flint watched Tanis and Sturm leave. Tas sidled up beside him,
standing close to the old dwarf. He called good luck after them but he didn't think that
they could hear him above the storm's cry.

“Come along, then,” Flint growled. “No sense standing any closer to the wind than we have
to. We might as well find the best kindling from that wood. When those two get back
they'll be fair frozen and needing a fire as quickly as we can make one.”

Tas stood in the breached doorway for a long moment. The white and screaming storm quickly
swallowed all trace of Sturm and Tanis. Already he had begun to regret his promise to stay
behind.

I could find those trees straight off! he thought. For Tas, to think was to do. He tucked
his pipe into his belt and stepped out into the blinding storm. The wind caught him hard,
and he laughed from the sheer pleasure of feeling its bullying push, hearing its
thundering roar. He hadn't taken many steps, however, before two hard hands grabbed him by
the back of his vest and dragged him back inside.

“No, you DON'T!” “But, Flint - ” The fire in the old dwarf's eyes could have warmed a

company of men. His face, Tas thought, certainly shouldn't be that interesting shade of
red now that he was out of the wind.

“I only want to go a little way, Flint. I'll come right back, I promise.”

Flint snorted. “The same way you promised Tanis to stay here in the first place? That lad
is a fool to put stock in a kender's promise.” He glared from Tas to the storm raging
without. “But he CAN put stock in mine. I said I'd keep you here, and here you'll stay.”

Tas wondered if there would be a way to get around the old dwarf standing between him and
the doorway. Well, there might be, he thought, considering a quick run under Flint's arm.
Grinning, he braced for the dash, but then caught the darkly dangerous look in Flint's
eyes and decided against it. There was, after all, his promise to Tanis, spider-web thin
but still holding after a fashion. And he could, he supposed, manage to pass the time
trying to find the magic in his pipe.

It was going to be, each thought, a very long, cold afternoon.

Under the sheltering wings of the broad-branched pines the storm seemed distant, deflected
by the thick growing trunks and the sweep of a rising hill. Deadfalls littered the little
stand. Tanis made right for the heart of the pines where the snow was a thinner mantle
covering the ground and the fallen trees.

“Gather what you can first,” he told Sturm. “It will be easier if we don't have to cut any
wood.”

It had taken longer than he had hoped to reach the pines. Though he could see little
difference in the light under the trees, he knew from some sure instinct that night had
fallen. The driving snow was no longer daytime gray, but brighter. Only an hour ago the
sky had been the color of wet slate. Now it was an unreflecting, unforgiving black. It
FELT like a night sky for all that Tanis could see no moons, no stars. The air was as cold
and sharp as frozen blades.

They worked as fast as awkward hands would permit, filling their packs with as much wood
as they could carry. Carefully used it would be enough to keep them from freezing in the
night.

Tanis shoved the last of the wood into his pack, lashed it tight, and looked around for
Sturm. He was a dark figure hunched against the cold, kneeling over his own pack.

“Ready?” Tanis called.

Sturm looked around. “Aye, if you'll give me a hand getting this on.”

It was the work of a few moments to help Sturm with the heavily laden pack. “Set?” Tanis
asked, watching the boy brace and find a comfortable balance.

“Set. Your turn.”

The half-elf clenched his jaw and bit back a groan as Sturm settled the burden on his
shoulders. “Gods,” he whispered, “if I could wish for anything, it would be that I were a
pack mule strong enough to carry this with ease!”

For the first time that day Sturm smiled, his white teeth flashing in the gloom beneath
the pines. “It is an odd wish, Tanis. But were it granted, I promise I would lead you
gently.”

Tanis laughed and, for a moment, he forgot the cold. Sturm's smile was like the sun
breaking from behind dark

clouds, always welcome for coming so seldom. At the beginning of the trip Tanis had
wondered about the wisdom of taking the youth along. It had been Flint, to Tanis's
surprise, who had urged that Sturm be included in the party.