To the Death
Tanis spun around to see long, reptilian arms stretched out to drag him down. Knife still in his hand, he slashed at the hand of the closest slig, eliciting a scream. Two others hit him with their heads, butting him in the shoulder and chest. He went down from the impact, the metal box flying out of his hand. The quill tumbled free and fell to the ground. The note-Brandella's note-with the warning scrawled across it fluttered out of the box and down into the hole from which it had been dug. Rolling sharply to his left, drawing a sharp breath as he tumbled over shards of broken cobblestone, the half- elf avoided a spear that clattered to the ground, narrowly missing one of his legs. His sword lay somewhere behind him. He was dead if he couldn't get to it-and probably dead even if he did. But he had to try.
The sligs swarmed after him, but the biggest one, the one with ugly burns on his body, shouted, "Get the quill!"
The sligs fell into confusion, momentarily breaking off their attack to follow Zarjephwu's orders. Tanis also saw the quill, but grabbing it and dying with it in his hand wasn't going to do him any good. Instead, he lunged backward for his sword, grabbed it by the handle, and rolled over and up unto his knees.
A tall, skinny slig scooped the quill off the ground. It didn't have the writing instrument long. Tanis swung his sword, lopping off the creature's arm and slashing into its chest with one sweep. The quill dribbled from lifeless fingers.
The closest sligs scrambled for the quill again. Tanis jumped to his feet, slashing at one of the creatures, but found his sword blocked by a spear held up at both ends by Zarjephwu. Black eyes with points of silver stared at the half-elf with palpable hatred; the powerful creature's muscles barely bulged with his effort. "The quill is ours," he said in guttural Common. "And so is your life." With that, he let out a stream of poisonous spittle, aimed at Tanis's face, trying to blind him.
The half-elf ducked out of the way, falling backward, trying desperately to keep his footing. Two arms caught him and tried to crush him: another slig. Tanis felt the air whoosh out of his chest as the creature used all its strength to squeeze the life from him. The half-elf tried to fight back, but his arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn't do anything to free himself.
Just as Tanis was about to black out, the slig suddenly let go. Tanis did not know what had saved him; he simply sagged to the ground. This time, however, another set of hands grabbed him and pulled him back up.
"Clotnik!" the half-elf gasped.
The dwarf had used his sword to stab the slig, running it through from back to front. The blade was still stuck in the slig, and Clotnik was unable to get it out.
Tanis couldn't help remembering that Mertwig had saved Tanis's life in this same place. Plucking from the ground the spear that had recently missed his leg, he tossed it to the dwarf. As he did so, Tanis, breathing heavily, managed to call out, "You remind me of your father."
Clotnik beamed.
"I'll thank you properly later," the half-elf added. "First, let's get Kishpa's enchanted quill back from these creatures."
The dwarf's face broke into a horrified grimace. 'The quill7" he squeaked. "They've got it?"
There were thirteen sligs to fight, all bigger and' stronger than the half-elf and the dwarf. There was no use in running; the pair would never get away. But that was only one reason for fighting. The other reason was that letting the enchanted quill, with its future- foretelling magic, fall into the hands of the sligs was purely unthinkable.
However, a very tall slig warrior held the quill high and was proudly passing it to Zarjephwu. Tanis didn't even think; he immediately forged in among the sligs. Clotnik plowed right behind him, his eyes a dangerous green and his weak chin nearly firm.
The half-elf blocked a blow from a bardiche with his sword, hammered another slig in the gut with a closed fist, but staggered under the might of an elbow that caught him in the side of the head. Meanwhile, Clotnik jabbed a slig in the thigh with his spear, and the creature fell to its knees. Tanis saw his chance. He jumped on the back of the fallen slig, gaining enough height to swing his blade at the enchanted quill held aloft by the tall slig.
Tanis's blade sang, cutting through the air, and then it sliced the quill into neat halves.
The bellow of rage from the snarling mouth of Zarjephwu made his fellow sligs cower in fear. He was so maddened by the loss of the quill that he broke the neck of one of his own warriors, who had stood between him and Tanis.
Clotnik tried to cover Tanis's retreat, stabbing the point of his spear into the shoulder of one slig and then smashing the other end of his spear into the snout of another. But there were too many of them, coming from too many directions.
Several massive hands clawed at Clotnik's legs, tearing at his skin with their long, sharp-nailed fingertips. More hands grabbed him about the waist, dragging him down.
Tanis tried to protect the fallen dwarf, but two sligs locked their massive hands on his sword arm, easily holding it immobile. As Zarjephwu charged at him, the two began bending his arm back. The half-elf knew they were waiting to hear the crack of a bone.
A shrill, otherworldly scream suddenly erupted from somewhere behind Tanis. In the midst of their murdering, all the sligs stopped cold. The two who were trying to snap Tanis's arm were so startled they turned to look. Even Zarjephwu stopped, shock sweeping over his features.
Though Tanis could not twist to see what had so surprised the sligs, there was something faintly familiar about the high-pitched scream. In the next instant, the two sligs holding Tanis let go and began to run. One was just a bit too slow. A sword slashed its back, and it fell, writhing, to the ground.
Tanis turned to face this scourge of the sligs-and faced Scowarr! The granite statue had come to life. The flapping head bandages, the impossibly high-pitched cry of combined fear and courage, the wildly swinging sword… it was the Hero of Ankatakava, in all his glory!
Tanis was so startled by the sight of his old friend that he almost fell victim to the sharp edge of a slig broadsword. He dodged the blade at the last possible moment, even as he called out an exultant greeting to the magically awakened statue.
But Scowarr did not answer. His lips, gray granite, only screamed. He fell upon the warriors holding Clotnik down, slaughtering them as if he were an avenging god. The slender human's short hair, bursting in tufts from gaps in the bandages, bristled with vengeance.
Scowarr then turned and, shouting incoherently in his shrill voice, ran after a half-dozen fleeing sligs.
Another slig, however, did not rim.
Zarjephwu was fearful of the strange, screaming creature with the flapping bandages, but he held no terror of Tanis, and it was the half-elf who had brought his band low. There would be no opportunity to torture the half- elf, but at least he would have the satisfaction of killing- him.
The slig leader threw away his spear and bent into a crouch. His jaw opened wide and venomous spittle dripped from his tongue. He eyed Tanis with a lean and hungry look. The half-elf knew that the sligs often ate their victims, sometimes alive.
The slig moved on all fours, slowly closing the distance between them. Even in his crouch, the slig was nearly as tall as Tanis. Behind him, Clotnik moaned, his blood soaking the ground of the long-abandoned village of his birth. Tanis had to draw his enemy away, and so he backed up, keeping his eye on the slig with every step.
Zarjephwu enjoyed the pursuit. The half-elf seemed unnerved to him; the creature both hated and reveled in the weakness of his prey. Carefully, the slig maneuvered toward Tanis, forcing him in a certain direction, waiting for the right moment to pounce and sink his teeth into the half-elf's throat.
As far as Tanis could figure, he had retreated nearly halfway across the open village square. He cast a quick glance away from the slig to see Clotnik trying to drag himself toward his tethered bullbogg. If he was lucky, the dwarf might be able to get away.
Then Tanis backed up against something hard. He was trapped in the center of the square, his back against the base of Scowarr's statue. A moment of panic struck Tanis. He'd made a terrible mistake.
Zarjephwu sprang.
Tanis did the only thing he could think of; he let his back slide down the base of the statue while he kicked up with his legs. His feet caught the slig in the stomach, sending the creature still higher. Zaljephwu flew over the base. An instant later, he cried out and then went silent.
Blood dripped down on Tanis from above.
The half-elf looked up and, astonished, saw that the statue of Scowarr was back in place! Impaled upon the statue's sword was the slig.
Tanis rose shakily, looking up at his old friend, expecting a word, a handshake. The statue, aged and weathered, was as impassive as the stone that formed it. Had he dreamed that Scowarr had come to his aid and scattered the sligs? But then Tanis's eyes fell on the inscription below the statue. It had changed! Magically altered from the original, the new inscription read. Now, is that funny, or what?
Tanis roared with laughter.
The Letter
"I've stopped the bleeding," Tanis said, looking down with deep concern at the pale, pained face of Clotnik. "You've been torn up badly, especially your back. Except for some very theatrical scars, though, you should be all right." He tried to muster a reassuring expression. "I've got to be able to juggle," the dwarf said worriedly. "Will my arms be able to move naturally?" "I don't know for sure," Tanis replied. "But I think so." Clotnik seemed satisfied with the half-elf's answer and closed his eyes to rest.
Г
Rising from the shade of Scowarr's statue, where Tanis had carried the dwarf, Tanis let out a deep breath and felt his neck and shoulder muscles loosen.
Now that Clotnik was taken care of, he was anxious to retrieve Brandella's letter. He hurried back to the hole he had dug and found the folded parchment at the bottom. It was old, yellowed, and crumbling at the edges. He lifted it tenderly, lovingly, from its temporary grave and slowly walked back toward Clotnik as he read the words Brandella had written to him so long ago… Tanis-Who Risked Everything for Me,
I write this now, just moments before leaving with you on what may be a hopeless journey. I know you are convinced that we both will leave Kishpa's memory, but I have my doubts. Should you make your way back to your own world without me, I want you to know how much I thought of you. And what 1 felt for you. But then you know that, don't you? You asked me once what binds two people together through time. I imagined that you wanted to know how Kishpa and 1 could love each other so deeply through all these years, so that you, yourself, could somehow learn the secret of finding such a love. How do I answer?
I must look to my weaving and tell you that the kind of love you seek is like one of my scarves. Just as a scarf covers the vulnerable throat from the cold, so does a deep and generous love protect what is vulnerable about you from the world. Love, like a scarf, wraps itself around you on the coldest of days, one more time around you when the winds of evil fortune blow their worst. And, like a scarf, a great love covers your heart. But also like a scarf, love can be easily lost or left behind if one is not careful to remember it.
Now you wait for me while I write a letter that you may never read. So I'll stop now, except to say that should you leave this world while I remain here, I will hold you dear in my memory. After all, what is memory except a way of keeping the things you never want to lose? Farewell but Never Good-bye, Brandella
Tanis reached the gently snoring Clotnik and sat next to him on a weathered block from the village wall, rereading the letter even as it crumbled in his hands. He tried to read between the lines, under the lines, around the lines-he wanted to understand exactly what she meant. Why hadn't she come right out and said what she felt for him? She'd expected that he somehow knew. Then, again, maybe it was better that he could imagine how she felt.
*.****
As Tanis sat immersed in Brandella's letter, six of the seven dead sligs that littered the ruins began to stir. Although they continued to lie as they had fallen, something profound was happening to their bodies. Regardless of their size, shape, or the wounds that had felled them, they started to transform. Slowly at first, the huge hands became smaller, and the fingers lost their long, sharp nails. The transformation picking up speed, their skin lost its scaly hardness. Snouts shrank, jaws and teeth lost their carnivorous appearance. Ears got smaller. Each of the bodies began to change shape, clothing suddenly appeared to cover their nakedness, and weapons evolved in their hands. Soon the eyes fluttered open, though no breath passed their lips.
*****
"Kind of a slow reader, aren't you, half-elf?"
The cracked voice came from directly behind him, and Tanis instantly reached for his knife.
"Now, now. None of that, young fellow." Tanis looked over his shoulder. An old elf, looking none too steady on his feet, stood a few feet away. Faded tunic and woven slacks, many times patched but scrupulously clean, covered the wiry body. The half-elf put his knife back in its sheath. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," he said. "Didn't sneak," the old man said with a sniff, amber eyes defensive. "Made plenty of noise, but you didn't hear me. I'm not surprised, what with you having your nose glued to that piece of paper." Tanis refolded Brandella's note. The old elf pointed at Clotnik arid said, "He was trying to find me before, but I wouldn't let him. Don't like people looking for me." Tanis could think of nothing to say. The old elf grinned, his wrinkled face seeming a little younger. "It's funny," he said after a bit, "but that dwarf looks a little familiar." "He's the son of Mertwig and Yeblidod," Tanis offered. "Ah," said the elf, nodding his head. "I remember them. The dwarf was a-" "Old one," Tanis cut in sharply, "keep your opinions to yourself." He glanced down at Clotnik to make sure the juggler had not awakened. He lay there peacefully, and Tanis was satisfied. The elf made a sour face but said no more about Mertwig. 'Tell me, old one," Tanis asked intently, leaning close to the elf. "Do you remember a woman-a human-who lived in this village? Her name was Brandella." The elf put a leathery finger to his lower lip. "Brandella? Let me see… she was Kishpa's friend, wasn't she?" Tanis smiled happily. 'Tell me about her." 'Tve got to go," the elf suddenly announced, backing away. "What's wrong?" Tanis asked in alarm. "Don't like crowds. That's why I live here alone. Good-bye, now."
"Crowds?" Tanis asked. "A half-elf and one sleeping dwarf?" At that moment, though, he looked up and saw a sight that filled him with joy. Walking toward him were Flint, Sturm, Camaron, Raistlin, Tas, and-his heart shivered-even Kitiara. Even as the old elf backed away, Tanis shoved Brandella's note in his tunic and shouted a greeting, leaping up and running happily toward his good and true companions.