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. A strange feeling
gripped him, an intuition that raised the hackles on his
neck and sent a shiver down his spine. Just for an instant,
he felt as if something atop the monolith had spoken to
him... something that awaited him, that called out to
him. He felt as if he had been here before, though he
knew he had not. And the feeling of the place was like the
feeling of his dreams.
"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 mus-
cle 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 un-
known 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
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