The Cataclysm (6 page)

“So be it,” Trevarre said, shrugging as if this prospect did not disturb him. He grimaced,
breathing hard, as he slid from the wagon and balanced on his good leg. “I must go on” He
took a step onto his injured leg. His face went white with pain. He groaned and slumped to
the ground.

Matya clucked her tongue, helped him sit back up against the wagon wheel. “I don't think
you're going anywhere, except to a monastery in Garnet - or the grave, if you try that
again” She poured a cup of water from a goatskin and handed it to him. The knight nodded
in thanks and drank it down.

“You do not understand, Matya,” Trevarre said, an intent look on his weathered face. “I
must journey to Tambor. I have received a plea for help. I cannot refuse it.”

Matya scowled. “Why ever not?”

Trevarre sighed, stroking his scraggly moustache. “I do not know if I can make you
understand this, but I will try. I am a Knight of the Sword, Matya.” He rested his hand
against his steel breastplate, decorated with the symbol of the sword. “This means I
cannot live my life as other men do. Instead, I must live by another, higher standard - by
the Oath and the Measure. It is written in the Measure that there is honor in aiding those
who cry out in need. And, by the Oath, I swore that my honor is my life. I will fulfill my
quest, Matya.” A faint light glimmered in his pale eyes. “Or die trying.”

“And what reward will you get for performing this 'honorable' task?” Matya asked with a
scowl.

“My honor is reward enough.”

Matya sniffed. “This 'Oath and Measure' hardly sounds practical. It's rather difficult to
eat one's honor when one gets hungry.” She paused a moment. Her real interest was in the doll, but she couldn't think of how to ask about it without rousing the knight's
suspicion. Maybe, if she could keep him talking about himself, he'd tell her what she
wanted to know. “And how is it you came to hear this plea for help, Knight? How do you
know it's not simply a trick to lure you into a den of robbers?”

“I know.” The crooked smile touched Trevarre's lips once again. “By this, I know.” He
slipped the porcelain doll from the leather pouch.

Matya was thrilled. She had not thought to get another glimpse so easily. Seeing it
closely now, Matya realized the doll was even more beautiful than she had thought. She
clasped her hands behind her back so she would not be tempted to reach out and touch its
smooth surface.

“Passing fair, would you not say?” Trevarre said softly. Matya could only nod. “It is a
most remarkable thing. I came upon it some days ago, by the banks of a stream that flows
from the mountains. It lay in a small boat woven of rushes, caught in a snag by the
shore.” He slipped the figurine back into its pouch. “By it, I learned of a maiden who
lives in a village called Tambor. She is in dire need. The code of the Measure is most
clear on this. I must go to her.”

Matya raised an eyebrow. It was a peculiar tale. She guessed Trevarre had stolen the doll
and simply was making up the story. After all, he looked more like a thief than a knight,
despite his armor. If so, stolen goods were fair game. Ask any trader.

“How is it you learned of this maiden?” she asked, hoping to trip him in his lie. “Was
there a message in the boat?”

“No,” the knight replied, “not as you mean, at least. You see, the doll is magical. Each
night, when Solinari rises, the doll speaks with the maiden's voice. That is how I heard
her call for help.”

Matya laughed aloud, slapping her knee. “A wondrous tale indeed, Trevarre, but I believe
you have taken up the wrong vocation. You should be a storyteller, not a knight.”

Trevarre's expression became grave, serious. “You must know, Matya, that on his life a
Knight of Solamnia cannot speak falsehood. I can understand why you do not trust in magic.
We knights do not think much of sorcerous powers either. But wait until Solinari is on the
rise. Perhaps you will change your mind.” Matya studied the knight attentively. His was not exactly a trustworthy face, despite his pretty voice. Still, there was something about the
intentness of his pale eyes.

“Perhaps I won't,” she said. *****

It was nearly midnight. The knight had slipped into a doze, less fitfully this time, and
Matya rummaged through a wooden box in the back of her wagon. The light of a single candle
illuminated scrolls and parchments. Finally, she found what she was searching for - a
bundle of yellowed sheets of vellum.

Matya untied the bundle's silken ribbon and unrolled the sheets, spreading them out on the
lid of the box. They were maps, rendered in fading ink. A kender had given them to Matya
some years ago in exchange for a silver knife. It had proved to be one of the few
unprofitable trades Matya had ever made. She soon had learned that the maps contained many
mistakes. They showed land where there were seas, mountains where there were deserts, and
populous cities in which no one lived. She should have known better than to trust a
kender. They were little tricksters, all of them. Still, poor as the maps were, they were
the only maps she had, and she was curious about something.

She shuffled through the maps until she found one that had SOLAMNIA written on the top.
The mountains were missing, and the map showed Caergoth to be an inland city, while Matya
knew very well that it stood on the coast. Some features had been added to the map in a
bold, scrawling hand, and Matya suspected these were the kender's own additions. Among
other things, the kender's scrawls showed the highways leading to Garnet and Caergoth, and
the crossroads as well.

“Now where is it?” Matya muttered, running a finger over the yellowed, cracking vellum.
“It has to be here.” Then she found what she sought. Written in small, faded letters was
the word TAMBOR. By the markings on the map, the village of Tambor was no more than ten
miles north and east of the crossroads. “But that would put it in the foothills of the
mountains, though this map shows southern Solamnia to be nothing but plains,” she added in disgust. The kender had written something beside
the spot marked TAMBOR. She had to squint to make out the scrawling words. They read, DEESTROYD IN
KATAKLISM. Matya mumbled an oath under her breath.

If this was true, then the village the knight sought had been destroyed more than fifty
years ago. So much for his plea for help! A liar, as she'd suspected. She didn't know why
that hurt her.

Trevarre called out. Matya hastily put away the maps. She found the knight still sitting
by the wagon wheel. The porcelain doll stood on the ground before him.

“It is almost time,” he said, nodding toward the west. A pearly glow had touched the
distant horizon. Solinari, the largest of Krynn's three moons, soon would rise.

Matya sat on a fallen log near the knight, eyes on the doll. While she did not believe
Trevarre's story, she was curious to see what he would do when the doll failed to speak.

“Wait,” Trevarre said softly. “Just wait.”

Matya sighed, resting her chin on a hand, and waited. This was rapidly growing tedious.
Finally, a thin, silvery sliver of Solinari lifted above the far-off horizon.

The doll began to sing.

Matya stared at the porcelain statuette in shock. The maiden's lips moved. A sweet,
wordless song drifted upon the night air. There was no doubt but that the song came from
the doll.

Matya shot a look at Trevarre. The knight's pale eyes were triumphant. The song continued,
a sad melody that tugged at Matya's heart. Finally the sweet music ended, and the doll
spoke.

“Please, come to me, whoever finds me,” it said, its voice cool and lilting but filled
with sorrow as well. “I beg you. Come to the village of Tambor. I need help desperately.
Please”

Solinari lifted full above the horizon, and the doll fell silent. Matya's eyes glimmered
as she stared at it calculatingly.

“An enchanted doll!” she said to herself. “Why, it is worth a king's ransom.”

“Do you believe my tale now?” Trevarre asked, a slight smile beneath his mousy moustache.

Matya nodded. “I believe you.” She was glad to believe in him, too, but she didn't tell him that. “I have something to ask of you,” the knight
said. “It appears my legs are set on betraying me. I cannot journey to Tambor on foot, but your
wagon could carry me. Take me there, Matya. Take me to Tambor, please.”

“And what would I gain for my trouble?” Matya asked coolly.

Trevarre reached inside the collar of his woolen cloak and undid the clasp. He held it out
to her. “Will this do?” The clasp was fashioned of finely wrought silver, inlaid with
pearl and lapis lazuli. Matya appraised it with a practiced eye. The jewel obviously was
quite valuable. By any measure, the trade would be a good one, but it was not enough.

“Give me the doll as well,” Matya said crisply, “then I will take you to Tambor.”

Trevarre gazed at her for a long moment, but Matya did not so much as blink. Finally he
laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, I see. It appears I have little choice but to accept.
Very well, I will give you the doll - but only after we reach Tambor.”

“Agreed,” Matya said, her eyes flashing. She took the jeweled clasp from his outstretched
hand and spirited it away to a pocket in her dress. 1 will keep this as assurance.“ She
knew that Trevarre likely would be distressed when he found Tambor in ruins and his quest
proved a folly. However, if he was a man of honor, he would keep his word. The doll would
be Matya's. I'll take you to Tambor, Knight.”

She spat in her hand and held it out. Trevarre looked at her in puzzlement for a moment,
then nodded solemnly and did the same. They shook hands firmly. The bargain had been
struck.

*****

Matya and the knight set out with the dawn, traveling east down the road to Garnet. The
mountains loomed high before them, like great gray giants. Their summits were already
dusted with a coating of snow, bespeaking the winter that soon would blanket the rest of
Solamnia.

Matya studied the kender's map as Rabbit plodded on, pulling the wagon along the jouncing
road. The map was terribly faded and crumbled a bit each time she touched it, but Matya could make out the
line of a faint road leading south from the place marked Tambor. If the kender had drawn
in the highway to Garnet at all accurately, they ought to reach the road to Tambor
sometime around midmorning.

“'Two giants point the way,'” Trevarre said. Matya looked questioningly at the knight, who
was propped up on the bench beside her. “That was the sign the doll spoke of that would
guide me to the village,” he explained. “I imagine it means two mountains, or some such
thing.”

“You were going to try to find the village with directions like that?” Matya asked.

Trevarre only shrugged.

“Humph!” Matya snorted. “If this maiden of yours was going to all this trouble to get
rescued, she might have given you dearer instructions.”

Before Trevarre could reply, one of the wheels hit a deep rut, and he winced as the wagon
lurched roughly. He was in better shape today than he'd been the night before, but his
face was still pale, and the roughness of the wagon's ride obviously was causing him pain.
He did not complain, however.

Midmorning passed and noon approached, and still Matya saw no sign of a road leading north
from the highway. Finally she pulled on the reins, and Rabbit came to a halt. “It's time
for a rest,” she said.

She fastened a feedbag over Rabbit's muzzle, then found food for herself and Trevarre. A
jumble of massive, oddly shaped granite boulders, warmed by the sun, lay next to the road.
The two sat on these as they ate a meal of cheese, bread, and dried fruit. When they had
finished, Matya checked Trevarre's bandages. “Your hands are gentle, though your tongue is
sharp,” said the knight, smiling at her. Matya blushed, but ignored him and nodded in
satisfaction. The knight's wounds had closed, and none of them showed signs of festering.

“We had best be on our way,” she said, eyeing the sun, which now shone directly overhead.
She helped Trevarre stand, offered him her shoulder to lean on. He smelled of oiled steel
and leather, not an unpleasant scent, she thought, as the two started making their way
back to the wagon. Suddenly Matya froze.

“What is it?” Trevarre asked, looking quickly about in alarm. “Goblins?” “No,” Matya whispered. “No, it's a face.” She pointed to the boulder
Trevarre had been sitting on.

They had not noticed it earlier, because the shadows had obscured it, but with the sun
directly overhead, Matya now saw it as plain as day. The boulder was carved in the face of
a man.

The carving was weathered and cracked - it must have been ancient - but Matya still could
make out the proud, kingly features, the aquiline nose, and deep, moss-filled eyes.
Looking around, she saw that other overgrown boulders were parts of a man - one shaped
like a hand, another like a shoulder, still another like a boot.

“It is a statue,” Trevarre said in amazement, “a gigantic statue. It must have fallen over
years ago, by the looks of it, probably in the Cataclysm.”

“Wait, there are two of them,” Matya said, pointing to another broken boulder, which was
carved in the form of a regal-looking woman.

“The two giants,” Trevarre said. “It seems the maiden's directions were not so inadequate
after all.”

*****

The road beyond the ruined statues was all but hidden by a tangle of willows and brambles.
Matya doubted that anyone had come this way in a long time. The way was passable but
overgrown and rutted. Trevarre winced each time the wagon's wheel hit a bump, but he said
nothing.

“He has courage, if not sense,” Matya told herself. She glanced at him, and for a brief
moment her hard expression softened. She found herself wondering just how. old Trevarre
was. He was not a young man, she suspected, despite his foolhardiness.

The narrow road wound across the rolling foothills, over grassy knolls and through groves
of aspen and fir. In places the trail was so faint Matya could hardly see it, and several
times it ended abruptly, only to be found continuing a hundred paces to the left or right.
It was almost as if the land itself had shifted beneath the road, breaking it into pieces.