Time of the Twins

The kender sighed. It was a nice night. Why did he feel uneasy? Was that a sound? A twig breaking? Tas started and looked around, holding his breath to hear better. Nothing. Silence. Glancing up into the heavens, he saw the constellation of Paladine, the Platinum Dragon, revolving around the constellation of Gilean, the Scales of Balance. Across from Paladine—each keeping careful watch upon the other—was the constellation of the Queen of Darkness—Takhisis, the Five-Headed Dragon.

“You’re awfully far away up there,” Tas said to the Platinum Dragon. “And you’ve got a whole world to watch, not just us. I’m sure you won’t mind if I guard our rest tonight, too. No disrepect intended, of course. It’s just that I have the feeling Someone Else up there is watching us tonight, too, if you take my meaning.” The kender shivered. “I don’t know why I feel so queer all of a sudden. Maybe it’s just being so close to Darken Wood and—well, I’m responsible for everyone apparently!”

It was an uncomfortable thought for a kender. Tas was accustomed to being responsible for himself, but when he’d traveled with Tanis and the others, there had always been someone else responsible for the group. There had been strong, skilled warriors—

What was that? He’d definitely heard something that time! Jumping up, Tas stood quietly, staring into the darkness. There was silence, then a rustle, then—

A squirrel. Tas heaved a sigh that came from his toes.

“While I’m up, I’ll just go put another log on the fire,” he said to himself. Hurrying over, he glanced at Caramon and felt a pang. It would have been much easier standing watch in the darkness if he knew he could count on Caramon’s strong arm. Instead, the warrior had fallen over on his back, his eyes closed, his mouth open, snoring in drunken contentment. Curled about Caramon’s boot, her head on his foot, Bupu’s snores mingled with his. Across from them, as far away as possible, Lady Crysania slept peacefully, her smooth cheek resting on her folded hands.

With a trembling sigh, Tas cast the logs on the fire. Watching it blaze up, he settled himself down to watch, staring intently into the night-shrouded trees whose whispering words now had an ominous tone. Then, there it was again.

“Squirrel!” Tas whispered resolutely.

Was that something moving in the shadows? There was a distinct crack—like a twig snapping in two. No squirrel did that! Tas fumbled about in his pouch until his hand closed over a small knife.

The forest was moving! The trees were closing in!

Tas tried to scream a warning, but a thin-limbed branch grabbed hold of his arm...

“Aiiii,” Tas shouted, twisting free and stabbing at the branch with his knife.

There was a curse and yelp of pain. The branch let loose its hold, and Tas breathed a sigh. No tree he had ever met yelped in pain. Whatever they were facing was living, breathing...

“Attack!” the kender yelled, stumbling backward. “Caramon! Help! Caramon—”

Two years before, the big warrior would have been on his feet instantly, his hand closing over the hilt of his sword, alert and ready for battle. But Tas, scrambling to get his back to the fire, his small knife the only thing keeping whatever it was at bay, saw Caramon’s head loll to one side in drunken contentment.

“Lady Crysania!” Tas screamed wildly, seeing more dark shapes creep from the woods. “Wake up! Please, wake up!”

He could feel the heat of the fire now. Keeping an eye on the menacing shadows, Tas reached down and grabbed a smoldering log by one end—he hoped it was the cool end. Lifting it up, he thrust the firebrand out before him.

There was movement as one of the creatures made a dive for him. Tas swiped out with his knife, driving it back. But in that instant, as it came into the light of his brand, he’d caught a glimpse of it.

“Caramon!” he shrieked. “Draconians!”

Lady Crysania was awake now; Tas saw her sit up, staring around in sleepy confusion.

“The fire!” Tas shouted to her desperately. “Get near the fire!” Stumbling over Bupu, the kender kicked Caramon. “Draconians!” he yelled again.

One of Caramon’s eyes opened, then the other, glaring around muzzily.

“Caramon! Thank the gods!” Tas gasped in relief.

Caramon sat up. Peering around the camp, completely disoriented and confused, he was still warrior enough to be hazily aware of danger. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he gripped the hilt of his sword and belched.

“Washit?” he mumbled, trying to focus his eyes.

“Draconians!” Tasslehoff screeched, hopping around like a small demon, waving his firebrand and his knife with such vigor that he actually succeeded in keeping his enemies at bay.

“Draconians?” Caramon muttered, staring around in disbelief. Then he caught a glimpse of a twisted reptilian face in the light of the dying fire. His eyes opened wide. “Draconians!” he snarled. “Tanis! Sturm! Come to me! Raistlin—your magic! We’ll take them.”

Yanking his sword from its scabbard, Caramon plunged ahead with a rumbling battle cry—and fell flat on his face.

Bupu clung to his foot.