Tanis the shadow years

10

The silver-inlaid bnoadsword in Tanis hand might as well have been a boulder with a handle. His arm was so weary he could hardly lift it. As twilight descended, after more than four hours of intense fighting, Tanis and the others stood atop the barricade as yet another wave of human soldiers stormed the battlement.

They were eight bloodied defenders against nearly fifty fresh troops. Tanis looked apprehensively over his shoulder. He was shocked, yet unsurprised, by the sight of the empty streets behind him. No one was coming to help them. The villagers had gone after the humans who had already breached the barricade. Busy fighting little battles and small skirmishes from door to door, they were oblivious to the doom that awaited them if Tanis and his small band were destroyed. He drooped with fatigue, staying on his feet only by an act of will. Was it only a day ago, the half-elf wondered, that he was caught in the fire with Clotnik, or was the fire still scores of years in the future?

Scowarr stood next to Tanis, his bandaged head splattered with human blood. He had killed no one, but his presence in their ranks surely had been key to the brave elven stand. He had long since stopped screaming in total terror, principally, Tanis thought, because the man could no longer speak above a raspy whisper, and even that seemed to pain him. The human-Had Tanis once thought him frail? — was long past fear now, his fevered mind awash in the battles he had fought and survived. No matter that his throat felt as if he had swallowed hot coals, nothing alive or dead on Krynn could have stopped him from talking now…

"I think-yes, I know-I should have become a Knight of Solamnia," he sputtered painfully.

Tanis looked over at the man and fought a smile as he compared Little Shoulders Scowarr with the muscular Sturm Brightblade.

"Imagine," Scowarr rasped, "fighting all those soldiers for so long, and I'm still alive! Not even a scratch!" He grabbed Tanis by the arm and exclaimed, 'They see me coming, and they run! Imagine it! Ah, but you don't have to imagine it. You can see it with your own eyes! They fear me and my sword, shrinking from my every step. Let them come!" he screeched.

With Scowarr's exuberant movements, tufts of his light brown hair poked through gaps in his bandages, but he appeared unaware. Instead, he struck a defiant pose in the dying light. "Let them come!" he proclaimed. "Let them see what they get at the hands of Little Shoulders Scowarr! I'm not afraid of any of them. No more! Never! I say, let them come!"

Tanis wanted to hug this put-upon creature, who was willing to die with the dignity of a giant. If anyone, friend or enemy dared to tell Little Shoulders the truth, Tanis swore he'd slay the offender. Scowarr's delusion was the ultimate blessing from the gods. Tanis hoped that when his time came, he could die as full of pride.

The front line of human soldiers, swords and battle- axes at the ready, clambered up the barricade toward Tanis and the others, yelling oaths and battle cries.

Tanis stood his ground stoically, but not Scowarr. Little Shoulders taunted them in return, shouting through his pain, "I'll give you death by the bellyful! You think you have an advantage in numbers, but all it means is that more of you will die by my sword! Come! Die!"

If Scowarr had frightened the enemy before with his incoherent screams, he unnerved them now with his unreserved boldness. The humans appeared unwilling to take on a blood-streaked warrior who was so obviously in the throes of insanity. The humans split their ranks and climbed the ramparts on either side of Scowarr, choosing to attack any of the others rather than the figure with the blood-covered, bandaged head.

Tanis held a shield that he had picked up earlier from a fallen human. He threw it at one onrushing soldier, deciding that his fighting arm was too weak to hold the broadsword with one hand. He gripped the handle of his blade with both hands for what he knew would be his final fight.

Without any warning, a strange tingling shot through his fingers and up his arms. In the fading light of sunset, his sword appeared to glow red and, to his astonishment, became extraordinarily light. He wondered if he, like Scowarr, was experiencing a delusion. If he was, he intended to enjoy it.

He brought his sword to bear on a charging soldier. With a swiftness more often seen with a knife than with a sword, he swung his blade in a wide arc, slicing off the soldier's hand in one quick, clean stroke.

Catching Tanis off balance, another human tried to stab him in the side. With the speed of lightning, the half- elf recovered, his broadsword flashing back to block his enemy's lunge. A moment later, the human lay bleeding on the barricade, a victim of Tanis's glowing red sword.

Off to his right, Tanis heard Scowarr shout, "Afraid to fight me, eh? Then I'll bring the battle to you!"

Oh, no, thought Tanis. Don't do it, Scowarr!

Waving his sword over his head, Scowarr did exactly what Tanis feared he would do: He charged down the barricade alone into the oncoming enemy troops.

Tanis couldn't let Little Shoulders die without trying to help him. It was suicide for both, but if Tanis was going to die, too, he would do it with the same flair as Scowarr. "Bring me more victims!" Tanis cried wildly, mimicking Little Shoulders's choleric tantrum as he raced down the front of the barricade after his friend, cutting down everyone who stood in his path. "Death to those who block my way! Who will fight me? Who wants to die?"

Tanis stabbed a human who was about to bring a battle-axe down on Scowarr's head. He cut open another soldier who tried to impale Little Shoulders with a lance. For his part, Scowarr didn't seem to have the slightest notion that he was in danger. He kept waving his sword and shouting, a man possessed by his own sense of immortality.

As for Tanis, he knew that death had to come soon. Yet his sword arm refused to grow weary, and his blade flew everywhere. Another soldier went down, then another. But Tanis's battle sense told him that there were too many of the enemy, crowding too close. He couldn't fight them all. Behind him, Tanis heard the wild shouts of the remaining elves with whom he had fought to regain the barricade.

Then the humans broke and ran!

"What on Krynn…?" Tanis burst out as he watched the soldiers leave their dead and flee, leaping, down the barricade.

Another elven shout broke the twilight air. Scowarr's wrathful outburst had spread to his fellow warriors, inspiring them to a level of courage that went far beyond bravery. Seeing Scowarr and Tanis charge down the battlement, they had thrown caution to the wind and joined madly, wildly, almost joyously, into the fray.

The humans had had enough. Fighting eight such mad creatures was too much to contemplate. Instead, they turned and fled.

"Come on back, you cowards!" Scowarr taunted, apparently unwilling to end what was, no doubt, the shining hour of his life. He began running after the enemy.

Tanis was quick to grab him by the flapping edge of his bandages, which were finally coming undone.

"It's over!" the half-elf told Scowarr firmly. "You can rest now."

The funny man stared at Tanis through the slits in his bandages. His eyes seemed to cloud over… and then he passed out.

Torches burned that night in every street and alley of the village. Human soldiers roamed within Ankatavaka, and they had to be found. That wasn't all. New defense plans had to be devised in case the human army attacked again at daybreak-which was all but certain.

Tanis, his strangely glowing sword safely ensconced in his scabbard, prepared to leave Scowarr in the care of his comrades-in-arms. The elves had repaired to the front of a nearby hall and were busily unwinding Scowarr's bandage by torchlight, eager to see the brave soul who had helped spur the victory. Tanis watched from the back.

Finally, the last bandage fell away, revealing a thin man with tufts of short, light brown hair.

"A human?" cried one elven soldier.

"What?" "Human?" came the responses from the other elves, who stared at Scowarr in shock. "He's not elven!" cried an injured elf. "Not elven?" replied still others.

Silence fell over the group as nearly a dozen pairs of almond-shaped eyes studied Scowarr's distinctly non- elven features. A piece of bandage still clung to one rounded ear, and Scowarr's smile grew crooked as he gazed back at his companions of only a few minutes before. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Have you heard the one about the cleric, the mage, and the tinker?" he asked hopefully.

Tanis froze, hoping he wouldn't have to defend the human against the elves whom Scowarr had helped save. The silence stretched longer as Scowarr's smile faded and the elves continued to exchange dumbfounded glances. One old elf chortled, then drew in his breath sharply and looked sideways at his colleagues. "A human!" he muttered wonderingly.

Another elf, streaked with dirt and sweat, let loose with a chuckle. "I'll be a slig!" he commented, then reached over and clapped Scowarr on the back. Another elven mouth stretched into a smile and opened into guffaws.

As laughter spread from elf to elf, Tanis relaxed and slipped out the door. As he slipped into the street, he overheard talk of raising a monument to honor Scowarr's heroics… if Ankatavaka survived, of course.

The light from more than five hundred torches bathed the seacoast village in a flickering orange glow as Tanis searched the streets for clues that might lead him to Brandella or deliver him to his father.

"Do you know a woman named Brandella?" he asked many a scurrying elf.

"Yes," replied everyone he questioned.

"Where can I find her?" he immediately countered.

They all answered, "With Kishpa, of course."

"And where is he?"

None knew.

No one had seen the mage since late afternoon. The wizard apparently had vanished. Teams of elves had been sent out to search for him. Without his magic, the villagers couldn't hope to hold the human army at bay.

Tanis tried another way of finding Kishpa's lover. He remembered Clotnik had said Brandella was a weaver. "Where does Brandella work at her loom?" he asked a rotund elven smith.

"Works and lives in the same place, m'boy," said the smith as he sharpened one of countless swords and knives that had been left with him overnight. "Y'know, my wife is rather fond of the shawls Brandella makes; wears them all the time. Costs me a fortune. But it's worth it. Keeps the wife happy, y'know."

'That's important," agreed Tanis, trying to remain patient. Perhaps ordinary chitchat helped the smith remain calm, maintaining the illusion that life as usual was still possible. "But can you tell me where she lives?" Tanis pressed.

'Try the second floor over that way," the smith said", using a worn hammer to point down the cobbled street. "See that overhang?"

Tanis nodded.

'That's her place. My wife…"

Tanis thanked the smith, ran directly to the overhang, and looked up at dark windows. He hurried through the doorway and took the stairs three at a time.

Knocking loudly on the door at the top of the stairs, he stood and waited, wondering what Brandella would look like, how she would act.

To his dismay, no one answered the door.

Tanis glanced down the stairway. When he saw no one lurking in the shadows, he put his shoulder to the door. It got away from him and swung open with a crash. Tanis grimaced.

Lighting a candle he found near the doorway, Tanis scanned the large room. A loom stood in one corner with baskets of bright red, yellow, and purple yarn beside it. Near the back was an unmade bed, the scent from the sheets aromatic and exotic, and there, too, were several baskets of yarn. Then he saw what he should have seen from the very beginning: All four walls were covered with a huge mural; even the ceiling was part of the enveloping painting.

Despite the meager light from the single candle, the images were bright and lively. Tanis couldn't figure out where the mural began or where it ended, and the more he peered at it, the less it mattered. The pictures told a story that needed no beginning, middle, or end. There were scenes of Kishpa, his physique perfect, his face flawless, his inner essence shining through his blue eyes with regal purity. It wasn't the mage's magic that shone, but the painter's art.

There were also scenes of children playing games. One of the children-a girl with black, unruly curls-always seemed to have her back turned to the viewer. Exquisitely dressed elven dancers leaped to music one could almost hear. Here, too, was an older girl, her hair flowing in thick, black curls down her back; her face also was hidden. There were scenes of merry festivals, viewed, it was clear, from the terrace overhang off to Tanis's right.

All of the scenes, wherever he looked, were joyous and happy, save one. On the ceiling, over her bed, Tanis noticed the woman with dark curls, her face obscured this time by the shoulder of a man, running toward a light that seemed to be a great distance away. The man was sweeping her into his arms, carrying her forward, and her body seemed to say, "I will go with you to the very source of light itself."

Trying to make out more detail of the woman's face, Tanis held the candle up close to the ceiling. The painter had hidden her features well. As he pulled the candle away, he saw something. The candle came loose from its holder and fell into a basket of yarn that sat on the floor near the bed. He quickly grabbed the candle and snuffed out the beginnings of a fire, only to find a piece of paper, now slightly burned, in the basket.

He steadied the candle back in its holder, held the note up to the flame, and read: Dearest of my Heart,

Please do as I beg you, and think only of your safety. A home is just a place to live; it isn't worth risking your life to save. I know what you're thinking: I'm a hypocrite because I'm staying behind to fight. I stay because it is my duty; my ancestors would be shamed if I left the children of their friends when my magic was needed most. I do not stay out of pride or desire. My only desire is to be with you. I keep you in my heart, in my mind, every moment of every day. Please, your life is too short as a human to risk it here. Go to Qualinesti. Our people know you, and you will be safe among them despite your race. Save yourself so that I may love you later. I will find you there when the battle is over. Go to the fisherman called Reehsha. He has promised me that he will ferry you to a ship in the harbor that sails for Qualinesti. You can trust him to save you a place on his boat. Don't delay. Do this for me, and know that I love you always. Yours Ever Faithful, Kishpa

"Reehsha," whispered Tanis.

He was about to rush out the door and make his way to the harbor when he remembered that there had been something about the picture over the bed that had startled him, making him drop the candle. He hurriedly raised the flame for a quick look-and saw that the man carrying the girl with the black curly hair toward the light… was he!

Or was it?

The features of the man on the ceiling seemed too perfect, too handsome, too majestic. No, he decided. There was just a passing resemblance in the face, but nothing more. Nothing more at all.