Tanis the shadow years

34

Dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around his body, Tanis led the way out a rear door into the yard behind the minotaur's baths-and stopped short. "Back!" ordered Tanis. "Get back inside! Hurry!" Brandella, caught off-guard, tripped and fell on the slippery, tiled floor in the doorway. Tanis, his eyes glued on the terrifying sight in the yard and feeling a fear beyond his understanding, didn't look where he was going. He stumbled over her feet and crashed, arms flailing, on top of her. "Dragon!" he shouted. "Don't be frightened," boomed a loud, deep, but not unfriendly voice. "I see Behobiphi didn't warn you; he sometimes forgets."

Tanis rolled off Brandella, and the two sat up in the doorway and stared. An old silver dragon sat quietly in the shade of a grove of trees, a thin line of smoke trailing from its nostrils.

"I am Softfire," said the dragon with what may have been the dragon equivalent of a smile. 'The heat of my fire breath will help dry you. Please step forward. I won't burn you."

The dragonfear faded. Tanis stood and tried to hold himself with some dignity-difficult when clad only in a towel. "Stay here," he whispered to Brandella.

"If he wanted to kill us, he could have done it already," she argued. "I'm coming with you."

That made some grudging sense to Tanis, so he didn't protest. They stepped forward into the chilly yard.

'That's a good spot," said Softfire. "Stand there." The dragon breathed a clear blue flame that shot out near them. They both flinched but managed to keep from bolting. The air near them grew hot, but not unbearably so, and soon, with each breath of fire, the water that dripped from their bodies began to rapidly evaporate. Even their hair dried.

"The minotaur will bring you your clothes, all cleaned," said Softfire. "In the meantime, come and scratch under my chin. I like the way it feels."

Tanis hung back, but Brandella walked fearlessly up to the beast. "Were you this friendly when you were alive7" she asked, running her fingernails under the beast's jaw.

"Oooohhhh, that's good," sighed Softfire, lifting his chin higher. He licked his dragon lips with a forked tongue and chuckled deep in his throat. "No," he finally answered. "I was a terror when I was young and alive. You should have seen me during what you call the Second Dragon Wars. There was one battle-"

Behobiphi interrupted from the bathhouse doorway. "You're not going to tell them your old war stories, are you?" the minotaur asked.

"Why not?" Softfire asked indignantly condensation from the steamy bath surrounding him with a hazy silver aura. "My tales may be old to you, but they're new to them."

"That may be," Behobiphi said briskly, "but there are more customers waiting. Please be quick with your tale, as well as with all of your embellishments."

The dragon snorted, the heat from his fiery exhalation scorching a stone wall. Tanis realized how tame the beast was, and what it would be like if riled. He resolved not to rile it.

"Embellishments?" the dragon complained. "I ought to snuff out your entire establishment for that insult!"

Tanis got the impression that the minotaur and the dragon had had this conversation regularly during the past few centuries.

"Do what you will," sighed the minotaur. "Just do it' quickly." Behobiphi handed Tanis and Brandella their freshly cleaned clothes and went back into the house.

"We really would love to hear your stories," said Tanis, "but we happen to be in a hurry. We need to find out how to get back to the living world-and quickly."

'That seems to be a preoccupation of so many here," observed the dragon. "I wonder why?"

"We can't speak for the others, but we're not supposed to be here. We're still alive," said Brandella, scratching Softfire under his left ear.

"Aaahhhhh… Oooohhh. You do that well." The dragon stretched like a huge tabby.

Tanis joined in, scratching the dragon under his right ear.

"Eeehhhhh… Aahhhhhh. You're too wonderful for words. What nice creatures you are to do this for me. I almost hate to help you leave." He closed his eyes. 'Then there is a way?" Tanis asked excitedly. He and Brandella exchanged glances; the weaver kept rubbing the silver dragon, scratching his scaly neck in quick, deft strokes. The creature thumped the ground several times with a huge, taloned hind leg; several branches broke from trees and fell to the earth.

"I don't know," Softfire said. "But I do know this: The only way out of Death for you is with magic; it won't work on anyone else here." The creature opened eyes that were more knowing than sleepy. "I heard a story from a brass dragon friend about a strange new spell being offered among all the mages; it might be exactly what you need." Softfire's gaze flicked from Tanis to Brandella and back again. Then the deep voice continued. "According to my friend, a wizard who recently died had quite a collection of bizarre and unusual spells-" "Kishpa," breathed Brandella, squeezing Tanis's arm. The dragon's eyes drifted shut again, but his voice continued to reverberate. "All the wizards like to trade spells, bartering a fire spell for a darkness spell-that sort of thing. Of course," the dragon continued, twisting his neck so Brandella could reach an out-of-the-way spot, "there is little they can do with their magic here, but they enjoy the collecting; it adds to their status among their peers. Anyway, this new mage arrived and promptly gave away-didn't want anything in return- one of his spells to every mage he could find." "Where is this new wizard?" begged Brandella. "I wish I could tell you," said Softfire with a massive, scaly shrug, 'but he could be anywhere. Death is a large place that stretches beyond imagining. He would be impossible to find." Brandella sighed.

'This spell that he gave away, the one that you said might help us, do you know what it is7" Tanis asked.

'That's the peculiar part. It's a totally useless spell to the Dead in our world. The spell allows the Living to leave the Dead; it's the kind of spell-"

"— that Kishpa would have loved when he was alive," exulted Brandella. "It is exactly the kind of useless spell he collected, something that would be just as useless in the world of the Living as it is in the world of the Dead."

"Except to us," Tanis added.

"And he must have known that," she cried, tears joyfully running down her face.

"You keep on like that," warned Softfire, "and I'm going to have to dry you all over again."

Brandella kissed the dragon's heavily scaled cheek while happily crying out to Tanis, "Don't you see7"

"Yes," Tanis admitted, surprised by the jealousy he felt. Even after Kishpa's death, it seemed, the half-elf could not compete with the mage. "We must find someone who has the spell-and quickly, because we will grow weaker with no food or water. And it must be someone who will share it with us."

"SoftfireI" Brandella demanded. "I've heard that certain dragons were magic-users. Do you know the spell?"

The old silver dragon shook his head. "I can't help you with that. The only magic I know is keeping my lips from' burning when I breathe fire."

"Where can we find a magic-user who will know the spell?" Brandella insisted.

Softfire pointed his nose toward the dark mountain. "As I said, Death is a far-flung place; there's quite a lot of room for new arrivals. The closest mage is him. Fistan- dantilus will surely know the spell and know how to invoke it."

Tanis felt a chill of fear encircle his spine. Softfire fixed him with a wise gaze, seeming to know how he felt about the evil wizard. "But beware," warned the dragon. "If he helps you, he will exact a price-and it may not be one you want to pay."

"I can hardly swallow," Brandella said painfully.

Tanis had been daydreaming about ale and spiced potatoes at the Inn of the Last Home. "The water Behobiphi gave us before we left didn't help at all. And neither did the food," he complained. "My throat has never been so dry."

They had no choice but to trudge on.

Told by Softfire that Fistandantilus lived in a hut at the top of the foothills, they had already climbed for several hours without finding the wizard's home.

Dark clouds hovered at the peak of Fistandantilus's towering mountain. A cold drizzle fell upon them as they climbed still higher, the water offering no pleasure to their tongues. Nothing grew on the huge slag heap of evil above them; it ran with sulphurous mud, and sharp, dark stones stood out from the sides like monstrous daggers.

A short while later, they stumbled upon a ramshackle hut partially hidden by a mudslide. Its roof was falling down and, from inside, they heard pitiful moans and groans. Brandella went white, and Tanis felt his insides tighten in fear.

"Something terrible is happening in there," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe the wizard is hurt or ill," Brandella countered without much conviction.

"Fistandantilus isn't like Kishpa. Fistandantilus was one of the most evil mages who ever lived. Most likely, he's torturing someone." Tanis could see by the flash of her brown eyes that he'd said exactly what she was really thinking and that she didn't appreciate his putting her thoughts into words.

The moans grew louder and more insistent, almost as if whoever was in pain knew they were out there and was entreating them to come to his rescue.

"Fistandantilus?" Tanis called out.

The wails stopped.

"Show yourself," Tanis insisted.

"I choose not to," the voice rasped. A dead plant exploded into flame only feet away. Tanis leaped between Brandella and the threat, and the voice laughed. "Don't bother, Half-Elven. Fistandantilus is everywhere."

Tanis took Brandella's hand.

"You do not show yourself because you can't," Tanis proclaimed with a show of bravado.

Brandella looked at the half-elf with warning. "Careful," she mouthed.

"Why are you here?" the deadly voice demanded.

"If you are so powerful, then show yourself," Tanis repeated.

There was a tension-filled pause before Fistandantilus spoke again. "Half-elf, I tire of this. I have been in this state of invisibility since long before I died, when I traded my corporal being for extra years of life. That meant I also agreed to give up my body in this world, as well."

"If you have no body," asked Brandella, shivering as much from fear as from the raw, damp wind, "then what are you?"

"I am magic," came the reply.

Tanis felt Brandella's hand grow moist in his own. Or perhaps it was he who was sweating; he could not tell for certain.

Although they saw no one, they sensed Fistandantilus eyeing them and felt naked before him. Finally, with an edge of menace to his voice, the dead mage asked, "What brings Tanis and Brandella to my mountain?"

"If you know our names, than you know our reason," Tanis said, surprising himself with his own boldness. After all, Fistandantilus had used his magic to destroy two massive armies, including his own troops, during the Dwarfgate War. What was to stop the wizard, even on a whim, from destroying one human woman and a half- elf?

Laughter cascaded around them. 'True," the menacing voice sibilated. "I've been walking with you in these foothills for quite some time now. Too bad about your thirst. Nothing I can do about it as long as you're alive. When you die of thirst tomorrow, though, come back and I'll conjure you a whole sea of cold, clean water.

"You are magic," Tanis said bitterly, "but you are powerless to help us. You are even powerless to help yourself."

This time the sound that surrounded them bore no resemblance to laughter. Like a thousand voices crying out in pain, a scream shivered through the rocks and made their skin crawl. Then they heard the words: "I did not create this mountain of darkness, of gloom, of horror, by helping anyone… except myself." The wind blew up hard and cold, a burning, wet spray lashing their faces as the rain whipped down from a gray and tumultuous sky. "If I help you," he said harshly, "it is because you will help me in return. Or you will die."

"What do you want?" Tanis asked warily.

'To return to Life with you."