The Forestmaster raised her head, looking up into the sky. The companions followed her gaze. The night sky, seen through the canopy of tall trees, glittered brilliantly with stars. Soon the companions became aware of something flying up there, winking out the stars in passing.

Pegasi dipped to the ground, their feathery wings creating a wind that tossed the tree branches and laid the grass flat. A large pegasus with wings that touched the ground when he walked bowed reverently to the Forestmaster. His bearing was proud and noble. Each of the other beautiful creatures bowed in turn. “You have summoned us?” the leader asked the Forestmaster.

“These guests of mine have urgent business to the east. I bid you bear them with the swiftness of the winds across the Eastwall Mountains.” The pegasus regarded the companions with astonishment. He walked with stately mien over to stare first at one, then another. When Tas raised his hand to pet the steed’s nose, both of the animal’s ears swiveled forward and he reared his great head back. But when he got to Flint, he snorted in disgust and turned to the Forestmaster. “A kender? Humans? And a dwarf!” The Forestmaster merely nodded and smiled. The pegasus bowed in reluctant assent. “Very well, Master,” he replied. With powerful grace, he walked over to Goldmoon and started to bend his foreleg, dipping low before her to assist her in mounting.

Now all of you, caught up in the elation of the moment, mounted, adding elation to your souls as the pegasi spread their huge wings and caught the wind currents. The entire party soared higher and higher, circling above the forest. The silver moon and the red bathed the valley below and the clouds above in an eerie, beautiful, purplish glow that receded into a deeper purple night. As the forest fell away from them, the last thing you all saw was the Forestmaster, glimmering like a star fallen from the heavens, shining lost and alone in a darkening land. One by one, you felt drowsiness overcome you.

The Pegasi, sensing great evil to the east, dared not travel any further and set down in the plains about a half days journey from the Eastwall mountains they were to carry you over. The leader of the Pegasi remained to watch over your sleep. He departed back to the west shortly after some of you had awakened. Moments after gathering their bearings, both Riverwind and Goldmoon cried allowed as they glanced to the east. Snaking up to meet the bright new morning sun, were three thick, twisting columns of greasy, black smoke. Their village, was burning! Apparently the armies are moving quicker than you thought. No, suddenly you remember—the draconian clerics mentioned they had traced the staff to a village in the Plains. Your hearts broke for the plainsmen…

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Devastation of the Que-Shu

Tanis had lived through much that was horrible in his life. But the ravaged town of Que-shu would always stand out in his mind as a symbol of the horrors of war. Even so, remembering Que-shu, he could only grasp fleeting images, his mind refusing to encompass the total awful vision. Oddly enough, he remembered the melted stones of Que-shu. He remembered them vividly. Only in his dreams did he recall the twisted and blackened bodies that lay among the smoking stones. The great stone walls, the huge stone temples and edifices, the spacious stone buildings with their rock courtyards and statuary, the large stone arena—all had melted, like butter on a hot summer day.

The rock still smoldered, though it was obvious that the village must have been attacked well over a sunrise ago. It was as if a white-hot, searing flame had engulfed the entire village. But what fire was there on Krynn that could melt rock? He remembered a creaking sound, remembered hearing it and being puzzled by it, and wondering what it was until locating the source of the only sound in the deathly still town became an obsession. He ran through the ruined village until he located the source. He remembered that he shouted to the others until they came. They stood staring into the melted arena. Huge stone blocks had poured down from the side of the bowl-shaped depression, forming molten ripples of rock around the bottom of the dish. In the center—on grass that was blackened and charred—stood a crude gibbet.

Two stout posts had been driven into the burned ground by unspeakable force, their bases splintered by the impact. Ten feet above the ground, a crosspiece pole was lashed to the two posts. The wood was charred and blistered. Scavenger birds perched on the top. Three chains, made of what appeared to be iron before it had melted and run together, swung back and forth. This was the cause of the creaking sound. Suspended from each chain, apparently by the feet, was a corpse. The corpses were not human; they were hobgoblin. On top of the gruesome structure was a shield stuck to the crosspiece with a broken swordblade. Roughly clawed on the battered shield were words written in a crude form of Common.

“This is what happens to those who take prisoners against my commands. Kill or be killed.” It was signed, Verminaard.

Verminaard; The name meant nothing to Tanis. Other images. He remembered Goldmoon standing in the center of her father’s ruined house trying to put back together the pieces of a broken vase. He remembered a dog—the only living thing they found in the entire village—curled around the body of a dead child. Caramon stopped to pet the small dog. The animal cringed, then licked the big man’s hand. It then licked the child’s cold face, looking up at the warrior hopefully, expecting this human to make everything all right, to make his little playmate run and laugh again. He remembered Caramon stroking the dog’s soft fur with his huge hands. He remembered Riverwind picking up a rock, holding it, aimlessly, as he stared around his burned and blasted village.

He remembered Sturm, standing transfixed before the gibbet, staring at the sign, and he remembered the knight’s lips moving as though in prayer or perhaps a silent vow. He remembered the sorrow-lined face of the dwarf, who had seen so much tragedy in his long lifetime, as he stood in the center of the ruined village, patting Tasslehoff gently on the back after finding the kender sobbing in a corner. He remembered Goldmoon’s frantic search for survivors. She crawled through the blackened rubble, screaming out names, listening for faint answers to her calls until she was hoarse and Riverwind finally convinced her it was hopeless. If there were any survivors, they had long since fled.

He remembered standing alone, in the center of the town, looking at piles of dust with arrow heads in them, and recognizing them as bodies of draconians. He remembered a cold hand touching his arm and the mage’s whispering voice. “Tanis, we must leave. There is nothing more we can do and we must reach Xak Tsaroth. Then we will have our revenge.” And so they left Que-shu. They traveled far into the night, none of them wanting to stop, each wanting to push his body to the point of exhaustion so that, when they finally slept, there would be no evil dreams. But the dreams came anyway...