Dragons of Autumn Twilight

"Caramon, you fool-" Sturm grunted as he and Riverwind both threw themselves on the warrior. But Caramon's rage carried him on.

Whirling, one draconian raised its sword, but Caramon sent the weapon flying. The creature hit the ground, knocked senseless by a blow from the big man's fist. Within seconds, there were six draconians, bows and arrows in their hands, surrounding the warrior. Sturm and Riverwind wrestled Caramon to the ground. Sturm, sitting on him, shoved his face into the mud until he felt Caramon relax beneath him and heard him give a strangled sob.

At that instant, a high-pitched, shrill voice screeched through the camp. "Bring the warrior to me!" said the dragon.

Tanis felt the hair rise on his neck. The draconians lowered their weapons and turned to face the dragon, staring in astonishment and muttering among themselves. Riverwind and Sturm got to their feet. Caramon lay on the ground, choking with sobs. The draconian guards glanced at each other uneasily, while those standing near the dragon backed off hurriedly and formed an immense semicircle around it.

One of the creatures, whom Tanis supposed by the insignia on its armor to be some sort of captain, stalked up to a robed draconian who was staring, open-mouthed, at the black dragon.

"What's going on?" the captain demanded. The draconian spoke in the Common Tongue. Tanis, listening closely, realized they were of different species-the robed draconians were apparently the magic-users and the priests. Presumably, the two could not communicate in their own languages. The military draconian was clearly upset.

"Where is that Bozak priest of yours? He must tell us what to do!"

"The higher of my order is not here." The robed draconian quickly regained his composure. "One of them flew here and took him to confer with Lord Verminaard about the staff."

"But the dragon never speaks when the priest is not here."

The captain lowered his voice. "My boys don't like it. You better do something quickly!"

"What is this delay?" The dragons voice shrieked like a wailing wind. "Bring me the warrior!"

"Do as the dragon says." The robed draconian motioned quickly with a clawed hand. Several draconians rushed over, shoved Tanis and Riverwind and Sturm back into the shattered cage, and lifted the bleeding Caramon up by the arms. They dragged him over to stand before the dragon, his back to the blazing fire. Near him lay the blue crystal staff, Raistlin's staff, their weapons, and their packs.

Caramon raised his head to confront the monster, his eyes blurred with tears and blood from the many cuts the bamboo had inflicted on his face. The dragon loomed above him, seen dimly through the smoke rising from the bonfire.

"We mete out justice swiftly and surely, human scum," the dragon hissed. As it spoke, it beat its huge wings, fanning them slowly. The draconians gasped and began to back up, some stumbling over themselves as they hurried to get out of the monster's way. Obviously they knew what was coming.

Caramon stared at the creature without fear. "My brother is dying," he shouted. "Do what you will to me. I ask only one thing. Give me my sword so that I can die fighting!"

The dragon laughed shrilly; the draconians joined it, gurgling and croaking horribly. As the dragon's wings beat the air, it began to rock back and forth, seemingly preparing to leap on the warrior and devour him.

"This will be fun. Let him have his weapon," the dragon commanded. Its flapping wings caused a wind to whip through the camp, scattering sparks from the fire.

Caramon shoved the draconian guards aside. Wiping his hand across his eyes, he walked over to the pile of weapons and pulled out his sword. Then he turned to face the dragon, resignation and grief etched into his face. He raised his sword.

"We can't let him die out there by himself!" Stunn said harshly, and he took a step forward, prepared to break out.

Suddenly a voice came from the shadows behind them.

"Hssst… Tanis!"

The half-elf whirled around. "Flint!" he exclaimed, then glanced apprehensively at the draconian guards, but they were absorbed in watching the spectacle of Caramon and the dragon. Tanis hurried to the back of the bamboo cage where the dwarf stood.

"Get out of here!" the half-elf ordered. "There's nothing you can do. Raistlin's dying, and the dragon-"

"Is Tasslehoff," Flint said succinctly.

"What?" Tanis glared at the dwarf. "Make sense."

"The dragon is Tasslehoff," Flint repeated patiently.

For once Tanis was speechless. He stared at the dwarf.

"The dragon's made of wicker," the dwarf whispered hurriedly. "Tasslehoff sneaked behind it and looked inside. It's rigged! Anyone sitting inside the dragon can make the wings flap and speak through a hollow tube. I guess that's how the priests keep order around here. Anyway, Tasslehoff's the one flapping his wings and threatening to eat Caramon."

Tanis gasped. "But what do we do? There's still a hundred draconians around. Sooner or later they're going to realize what's going on."