Crystal Gorge

Tlantar was still just a bit dubious about that, though. Longbow’s assessment of the two previous wars strongly suggested that the forts were only for show.

Then, as Tlantar had been certain it would, the question of the pestilence came up, and Tlantar told them as much as he’d picked up so far. “It was causing the northern tribes some fairly serious problems,” he continued. “The people up there were afraid to go near anybody else, so they were spread out to the point that they couldn’t defend the tribal lands—even from the incompetent Atazaks. I advised them to stay far enough away from each other to avoid the disease, but to get close enough that the range of their spears overlapped. They’ll still be safe from this pestilence, but they’ll be able to obliterate the invaders from Atazakan.”

“Did it work?” the Trogite called Padan asked.

“It should have,” Tlantar replied. “I haven’t received any verification from the northern tribes yet, though.”

After some extended discussion, the pretty wife of the southern farmer called Omago suggested that one of the gods could pick up the body of one of the men of northern Matan and carry it on down to Zelana’s Domain where an old shaman who was an expert on the peculiarities of the creatures of the Wasteland could examine the remains and determine exactly what had killed him.

Dahlaine looked just a bit sheepish when he agreed that the lady’s suggestion was probably the best answer to the problem.

When Zelana, Veltan, and Longbow returned from the western region of the Land of Dhrall, they advised Dahlaine and the rest of them that the aged shaman of Longbow’s tribe had found traces of snake-venom in the nose of the dead Matan, and that, of course, explained “the plague that is not a plague” that had so baffled everybody.

The farmer Omago suggested wet cloth as a protection, but Tlantar was more than a little dubious about that. He was fairly sure that some of the venom mist would penetrate almost anything they could use to protect themselves, and many of them would die if they were foolish enough to try the “wet cloth” form of protection. Dahlaine staunchly refused to even consider changing the direction of the wind to blow the venom back into the faces of the Atazaks and their insect allies, reminding Veltan and Zelana that they were strictly forbidden to use their almost unlimited power to cause the death of even their most dangerous enemies.

Finally, Longbow raised the distinct possibility that the “unknown friend” he’d mentioned to Tlantar probably could—and would—use her power to throw the venomous mist back onto the faces of their enemies.

“But how are we going to get word to her?” Veltan protested.

“I’m fairly sure that she knows already, Veltan,” Longbow replied with a shrug. “I don’t think that there’s very much of anything that she doesn’t know about when you get right down to it.”

Then Tlantar saw the warrior queen Trenicia staring with obvious astonishment at the pretty wife of the farmer Omago. The pretty lady smiled, but she didn’t say anything.

It was probably a slight change in the light in Dahlaine’s cave that made the pretty lady’s face look somewhat older and stouter, but quite suddenly, Tlantar recognized her, and hers was a face that Tlantar would never forget, despite the fact that the last time he’d seen her had been twenty-five years ago. She now appeared younger and more slender, but Tlantar was positive that she had been the one who’d tried very hard to save Tleri on that awful night a quarter of a century ago.

Tlantar began to tremble violently as confusion came crashing down on him.

THE DEPARTURE OF AZAKAN

1

Longbow had set up a small camp not far from the village of Asmie late in the afternoon of the day when Narasan’s army reached Mount Shrak. The people in the cave were all his friends, of course, but Longbow’s years of solitude in the mountains of Zelana’s Domain had made it almost impossible for him to sleep when there were other people around.

The stars were better company anyway. They were very beautiful, and they almost never snored.

He awoke at first light on the morning after Narasan’s army arrived and went on back inside the cave. He followed the long, twisting passageway to the large central chamber.

Ara, the beautiful wife of Omago, was cooking breakfast there, and Longbow saw that she had added several modifications to the rudimentary stove Dahlaine had put together after the arrival of the little boy, Ashad. Longbow saw that Ara’s stove was primarily a cluster of ovens—some almost right down in the fire and others farther away. Evidently, some varieties of food needed more heat than others did when they were cooking. Since Ara knew more about the preparation of food than anyone else did, Longbow was quite certain that her various ovens were exactly as hot as they needed to be. Longbow had never thought of cooking food as an art form, but Ara obviously did, and she knew just exactly what she was doing.

Eleria was seated at the table, watching with great interest. “Where have you been, Longbow?” Zelana’s little girl asked.

“Visiting the Land of Dreams,” he replied with a faint smile.

“Really? Did anything interesting happen while you were there?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, but I was busy sleeping, so if anything unusual happened, I missed it.”

“That’s not very funny, Longbow,” Eleria scolded.

“So beat me.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Red-Beard lately. You’re starting to sound just like him, and he’s not nearly as funny as he seems to think he is.”

Longbow shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect. Do you want to get the ‘kiss-kiss’ out of the way now, or would you rather wait until after breakfast?”

“Let’s do it both before and after, Longbow. You owe me a lot of kisses after that ‘beat me’ remark.”

“Does this happen very often, Longbow?” Ara asked curiously.

“All the time,” Longbow replied. “Eleria loves kisses, and if you spend too much time in her vicinity, she’ll wear out your lips.”

Ara smiled. “I sort of doubt that. As soon as you two have finished your little ‘kiss-kiss’ ceremony, why don’t you go wake the others. Breakfast is almost ready, so get our friends up and moving before it gets cold.”

Despite the fact that Dahlaine’s cave under Mount Shrak was extensive, the passageway that led from the cave mouth to the central chambers was narrow, and it twisted through the solid rock almost like a snake. There were also several branch passages that wandered off into the mountain, but didn’t really go anywhere. Given these peculiarities, Dahlaine had decided that only the leaders—and their best advisors—should camp inside the cave. The rest of the forces should camp outside. “We could end up losing half of all the men we’ve brought here,” Sorgan Hook-Beak agreed. “A tunnel that wanders around for ten miles or so but doesn’t really go anyplace could draw off soldiers by the hundreds, and we’d never see them again.”