Tanis the shadow years

45

"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.

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.