"Is this the place?" he muttered, to himself. "Is this where I find the helm?"

A large, gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and he jumped, then looked up at the Irda, standing beside him. 'What you seek is not here, Chane

Feldstone," she crooned. "But here is where you will begin your search."

Again she led the dwarf away, and he noticed that her movements – the sense of great strength in her easy, graceful stride; the lithe, sensuous ripple of smooth muscle beneath shining ebon skin – reminded him of the flowing grace of the great cats that were her companions.

"In ancient times, in the Age of Dreams, this was a place of men," the

Irda told them. "And magic was unknown on Krynn. So say the oldest legends. Then, from the realm of gods, came the graystone gem, and with it magic… and chaos. Some say the god Reorx gave to King Gargath the means to trap and hold the graystone. Whether or not that is so, Garath did capture it with a device of two crystals – one to find and hold it, the other to counter its magic."

"That's what the wizard said," Chestal Thicketsway interrupted, sipping from a goblet of warm, sweetnog the 'Irda had provided. "Only he said there was one crystal -"

"Hush," Glenshadow snapped. "Just listen."

"Gargath held it for a time," the Irda continued. "Then it was lost when the city was besieged by gnomes, with great siege engines."

"So that is what those junkheaps are," the kender commented.

This time it was Chane who hushed him. The dwarf reached across the table, grasped the kender's tunic, and lifted him off his stool. "Just shut up and listen!" he demanded.

The Irda continued undaunted. "One legend has it that when the graystone was freed, its magic caused some of the gnomes to become dwarves and kender, thus originating the two races."

"Rubbish," Chess snapped. "No kender's akin to dwarves, and we sure didn't come from gnomes."

"Rust and corruption! Chane chimed. "Dwarves were here first. Everybody knows that."

"Will the two of you shut up!" Glenshadow rasped, his voice the stuff of blizzards. "Just… shut up!"

"But I've been slandered," Chess said.

The wizard's eyes glinted like ice. He pointed his staff at the kender and muttered, "Thranthalus eghom dit -" and suddenly went silent. Though

Glenshadow's lips continued to move, no sound came out.

'That was a mistake," the Irda said, sympathetically. "The anti-magic in this place is very strong."

"Very strong," something unseen echoed.

The kender stared at the wizard. "What's the matter with him?"

Chane leaned close, seeing the stricken look in the man's eyes. "I think he tried to cast a spell," he suggested. "It must have backfired. He's hushed himself."

The kender cocked his head. "I wonder how long he'll be like this."

"I don't know." Chane shrugged. "It's his spell. Speaking of which, I wish you'd find a way to hush yours."

"My what?"

"Your spell. The one that's following you around. It's spooky to hear something complaining all the time when there's nothing there."

"Be wary of that spell," the Irda said. "Its power is so great that it must happen, eventually."

"You've met my spell?" The kender grinned. "Actually, I guess it isn't mine, but it has become attached to me."

"I know of it," the Irda nodded. "It has been in this valley, waiting to happen, for two hundred years. Ever since dwarves fought near here in the

Dwarfgate Wars."

"111 bet that's where all those frozen dwarves came from," Chess noted.

"This was where Fistandantilus first interceded," the Irda told them.

Chane shuddered. "Fistandantilus? The archmage? He was here?"

"Here first, then at the final battle, two ranges west of here, on the

Plains of Dergoth," the Irda told the dwarf.

"That's where Grallen's army was wiped out," Chane noted. "I've heard that story all my life."

"Both armies were wiped out by the fourth and greatest of the elemental spells Fistandantilus cast," the Irda said. "The first three spells were cast in the preliminary battle, here in the Valley of Waykeep. Elemental spells. The first was fire, the second ice…"

"Burned forests under ice," the kender breathed. "I saw that. What was the third one?"

"No one knows," the Irda shrugged. "It became entrapped in the anti-magic of this place, and hasn't happened yet."

"Woe and misery," something voiceless said.

"You mean him?" Chess looked around, needlessly. "I mean, it?"

"Your unexploded spell," she said calmly.

"Wow," was all that Chess could say.

Chane tapped the tabletop with his goblet, growing impatient. 'What does all this have to do with me and my dreams?"

The Irda studied him, her eyes luminous. "I told you that there were two crystals in Gargath's device. Only one remains up there now. It is called

Spellbinder. Its presence is the reason that magic often fails in this valley.

The other crystal, Pathfinder, was found by Prince Grallen of the Hylar

– "

"Grallen? But he died in the Dwarfgate War."

"Grallen, son of Duncan, King – the last king – of Thorbardin. The wizard knows of your dreams, Chane Feldstone. What is the thing that you have dreamed of finding?"

"An old helm," the dwarf said. "A battle helmet, with horns and a crown-spire."

"And a crystal at its brow?"

"Well, yes. A sort of green gem."

"That green gem is Pathfinder, Chane. The helm is Grallen's, and your dreams have been more than dreams. Grallen learned something about

Thorbardin on his way from here to his last battle, at Zhamen – what is now called Skullcap Peak. He learned that there is a lost entrance to

Thorbardin, and had he lived he would have found it and sealed it. But he died. At present, armies are amassing in the north… their forward units already invest key areas in many of the nearer lands."

The Irda paused and a shadow crossed her face. "There will be war. The ogres know, and what they know I also know. Very soon, Thorbardin will be surrounded by devastation. That is why you have dreamed, Chane Feldstone.

Your dreams are Grallen's spirit, calling to you, trying to tell you what must be done. You are to find Grallen's helm and take up Grallen's quest.

You are to seal Thorbardin's lost gate."

The kender smiled, his bright eyes gleaming with excitement. "Wow," he breathed. "I'm really glad I came along."

Chane simply stared at the Irda, at a loss for words. Finally he asked the only question he could think to ask: "Why me?"

Glenshadow tried to speak, rubbed his throat and tried again. "You…" the wizard croaked. He coughed, scowled, and tried to clear his throat. In a hoarse voice just above a whisper he said, "Because you are Grallen's kin, Chane Feldstone. You are the last of the line of Duncan, King of

Thorbardin."