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Crepuscule	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The (probably soon to be epic) take on Chronicles. Fifth in the "Ivory and Ebony" series.
No, Skull Bearer is not making any money from this what so ever, otherwise she wouldn't be on benefit now would she?
Many thanks to Chetwynd for helping me with the beta work and Caramon's reaction.

Crepuscule
Chapter one- Of Returning
This is a tale of a Northern Soul
Looking to find his way back home
-Northern Soul, The Verve.

The wind was edged with the first frosts of autumn, brushing across Raistlin's thin golden face even through the thick fur hood he wore. Summer was fading; he supposed that the vallenwoods would be a blaze of autumn flame, though he saw them as if they were already in the harsh grip of winter.
It had been five years since he had last seen Solace, and if the time his Test had taken had seemed like a thousand years, the past five had seemed like a millennia.
Millennia or not, he wasn't pleased that they had returned here any more than Dalamar was. Nevertheless, sometimes their sharp eyes were not enough to see everything, and other eyes, no matter how blind, could see things they had missed.
Raistlin glanced over at the Dark elf. No, he did not look in the least bit pleased.
As if he sensed what the human mage was thinking, Dalamar reached over and laid a hand on Raistlin's shoulder. "Are you alright?"
The elf had been asking that question on and off for the last couple of hours, and the Red Robe knew why. It wasn't so much his worries about Raistlin's health, but his fears about what would happen once they had arrived.
To say they had left their other companions on bad terms would be an understatement. Tanis, Sturm, and Flint would not forget the hostility the two mages bore them, even Kitiara, who was Raistlin's half-sister. However, it was not the thought of this prospective meeting what had Dalamar worried, it was the thought running into Raistlin's twin brother.
Caramon was a good friend to Tanis and the rest, but it was his attitude towards Raistlin what had irritated the two mages to no end. Thoroughly convinced of his role as protector to his frailer brother, Caramon had been deeply suspicious of Dalamar, to the point asking his friends to help to sabotage Raistlin's relationship with the elf.
As Raistlin was very much in love with Dalamar, this was an endeavour doomed to failure. The younger mage had been furious, vowing to disown his brother and cursing the other companions.
Everyone had left soon after that, the two mages heading south to the Tower of Wayreth. Neither of them had seen Caramon since then but Raistlin knew his brother well enough not to hope for any kind of change in attitude.
It was already late as they reached the outskirts of Solace, the small town where Raistlin had spent most of his life. They hadn't even been walking for most of the day but the frail human was already tiring, now that night had fallen. The two mages watched as the windows of the many houses perched amide the vallenwood branches began to glow with firelight.
"Halt!"
Raistlin stopped, shooting a quizzical glance at Dalamar. It was too dark for him to make out the figure who had stepped onto the path a little was down, but the Dark elf's eyes would have little trouble.
The aforementioned silver eyes were dark. "Goblin."
Raistlin grimaced; he could smell the creature from here.
"Two more behind us," Dalamar added unsurprised; goblins were cowards and wouldn't think of attacking them unless they outnumbered their targets.
The first goblin waddled down the path towards them, and the other two stepped out of the trees to encircle the two mages. Raistlin sighed, if it had been anywhere else, they would have noticed the creatures before this, but Solace had always lived up to its name. Luckily, they could dispatch this rabble with little difficulty if it came to blows.
The two mages drew together to face the approaching goblin, clearly the leader. "No civilians allowed out at night," it rasped. "That'll be a night in the cells-" the goblin broke off, finally appearing to notice the staff Raistlin was holding. The Staff of Magius, an artefact he had been given after taking his Test.
There was a moment's silence as the slow-witted creature formulated its next sentence, "An' I'll be im-pound-ing that staff."
Dalamar's thin lips twitched into a smirk. "Well Raistlin, you heard the Goblin, hand over the staff." The human mage shot him an incredulous look; the dark elf knew very well that his lover would rather cut his own arm off than hand over the Staff to anyone, particularly a gang of smelly goblins.
"But first-," Dalamar was still smiling nastily, "-you had better make sure he knows it's the right one he's confiscating. Don't you think you should give the guard a little... demonstration?"
Raistlin fought down his own smile, understanding what Dalamar had in mind. "Certainly, /Shirak!/"
The crystal on the Staff blazed with light, almost dazzling the two mages after the gloom of the forest and completely blinding the three goblins.
After that, it was a simple job to blast two and stab the third to make sure the news of the staff didn't get very far.
Dalamar wiped the dagger blade clean on a broad vallenwood leaf and Raistlin whispered "/Dulak/" extinguishing the light.
The Red Robe leant back against a tree trunk, watching the Dark elf rifle through the pockets of the three goblins. "The Seekers in Haven must have sunk to new lows since we last heard of them," he commented, "Even the Belzorites didn't employ goblins."
"Raistlin," Dalamar said tersely, still bent over the corpse, "I had succeeded in forgetting all about that unpleasantness until this very moment, /thank you/ so very much for reminding me."
This broke Raistlin's smile; the Belzorites had been a band of cultists they had run afoul of some six years back. A group of con artists led by a renegade mage, they had been exposed as frauds by the two mages, but the victory had almost cost Raistlin his life. Dalamar was right; they hadn't needed that reminder.
"Besides," Dalamar continued, pulling a fistful of steel coins from the goblin's belt pouch, "I don't think these are under the employ of the Highseekers at all, look at this." He handed Raistlin one of the coins.
Other than the eye watering smell of goblin, there seemed nothing amiss. The mage turned it over.
The five-headed dragon of Takhisis scowled back.
Raistlin blinked, he'd seen this kind of mint before, while the two of them had been working as mercenaries up north. A man going by the name of Ariakas was putting together an army and they had often found coins such as this in the pockets of people said to be working for the warlord.
"What would emissaries for that army be doing this far south?"
Dalamar finished checking the bodies and stood up, brushing down his black robes. "What does anyone do with an army?" he asked rhetorically. "They conquer."
"Yes, but why start this far south? It would be almost impossible to establish supply routes this far away," he persisted.
The Dark elf shrugged and started off towards Solace again. "Then I really don't know, but if these animals are working for the Highseeker I'll /eat/ your staff."
Raistlin smiled. "I'm sure we can find a better use for it than being consumed or handing it to some greedy goblins."
Dalamar nodded, sliding a hand around Raistlin's thin shoulders. "I'd wager your staff isn't the first bit of magic gear they've tried to 'impound', either."
Personally, Raistlin thought that anyone who was foolish enough to hand their valuables to a goblin deserved everything they got, or rather, didn't get back.
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The night air was growing cold and it was almost a relief to walk into the stuffy, crowded heat of the Inn of the Last Home. The orange glow of the fire and torches was momentarily dazzling after the darkness outside and it was a moment before Raistlin was able to make out the familiar room.
The Inn was full, so full that it took them a moment to spot those they were looking for. Crowding around the fire pit as usual, he could see Tanis Half-Elven -or Tanis Half-Human as Dalamar mockingly called him-, moping as usual. The firelight flashed off the numerous buckles on Tasslehoff's pouches and -Raistlin stifled a groan-, Caramon's winged dragon helm. Flint was there, the old dwarf muttering something to Sturm the Solamnic Knight who was, after Caramon, the last person Raistlin wanted to meet.
"Kitiara's not here," Dalamar commented.
The human snorted, "Are you surprised?" They both suspected that his sister had thrown her lot with the northern armies. The mage had little doubt that if it came to a choice between the vow his sister had made to her friends and the vow she had made to her paymaster, there would be no contest.
A few steps forwards and Raistlin could see two other figures sitting by the fire, but there were so wrapped in cloaks and furs that nothing of their faces could be seen.
A more few steps, and they were noticed.
"Oh, Reorx," Flint groaned, staring at the two mages. "Please don't tell me those two are who I think it they are." Clearly, the dwarf still bore Raistlin a grudge for setting his beard alight five years ago.
None of the companions looked any happier than Flint at the sight of them. Dalamar made a mocking bow, his sneer hidden in the shadows of his cloak. Raistlin didn't respond to the words; there one person who had /not/ been upset by their unexpected appearance.
"It that idiot tries to hug me, I'll do something worse than a burning hands spell," Raistlin hissed to Dalamar, who nodded, silver eyes locked on the tall figure.
Had Raistlin harboured any hope that his brother would have learnt his lesson in their five years apart, they were dashed the moment Caramon laid eyes on him.
"Raist!" The big man stumbled to his feet and rushed towards his brother, sending his chair crashing to the floor in the process before throwing his arms around the mage, the force of the embrace knocking Raistlin's hood back.
Raistlin's body felt as rigid as an iron bar as he tried, unsuccessfully, to extricate himself, Caramon sobbing into his shoulder. "I knew you'd come back... I'm so glad to see you again. I knew... I /knew/ something was going to happen... something was going to go wrong-"
"Let. Go. Of. Me." Raistlin's voice was a deadly whisper.
It was a mark of how bewildered Caramon was that he actually let go and took a step back, seeing, for the first time, Raistlin's face.
"Gods," the big man whispered, staring at his brother. "Raist... What /happened/ to you?" His eyes shot to Dalamar. "What did you do to him!"
Raistlin toyed with the idea of beating his brother over the head with the Staff of Magius; after all, if the Staff could increase the strength of blows until even he could kill a goblin with a single one and create light where there was none, surely it could knock some sense into his brother's hollow skull?
The rest of the group had now seen him and disapproval had given way to shock. "Name of the Gods," Flint breathed, horror-struck. "What evil's at work here? Are you cursed?"
"Well?" Caramon spat at the Dark elf. "Did you curse him? /What did you do to him?/"
"Shut up you oaf," Raistlin hissed. No, Caramon had not changed in the least, all too ready to blame Dalamar for some imagined wrong. "Or I need to set your clothes alight against for you to listen?"
The silence was total and immediate and even the kender's chattering stopped; clearly even the irrepressible Tasslehoff didn't want to repeat /that/ particular experience.
"Dalamar had nothing to do with this," Raistlin's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "This... change in my appearance and my health was due to a situation entirely of my own making." Well, not exactly, Raistlin thought, remembering Fistandantilus.
"What situation?" Caramon choked, his hand clasping Raistlin's shoulder so hard it was painful.
Raistlin pulled his twin's hand off; he hated being touched by anyone save Dalamar. He also had no wish to keep this conversation going any longer than he had to. "When we last met I had been selected to take the Test in the Tower of High Sorcery," he said shortly. “It was a terrible trial and in my battle to pass I was nearly killed." He paused for effect. "Yet I did not die and when I awoke..." Raistlin let his voice trail off and lifted one thin, golden-skinned hand. The firelight played on the strangely reflective surface.
"So do not think to blame Dalamar, he was not even allowed within the walls of the Tower, let alone close enough to have the chance to..." Raistlin sneered, "/hurt/ me." His tone told everyone exactly what he thought of that particular possibility.
Tanis spoke up for the first time, frowning, "So what did?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," Dalamar muttered from behind the human mage.
Raistlin shot Dalamar a scowl. "The price of power, as you well know." His hand tightened on the warm wood of the Staff of Magius.
Tasslehoff was clearly longing to ask more, but one look from Tanis shut him up. "I think everyone should sit down." He called to the barmaid, "Tika, could you bring us two more chairs?"
"Sure." Within a few moments, Tika had returned, dragging a pair of stools from a corner. Caramon tried to manoeuvre himself between his brother and Dalamar, which only meant that Raistlin, utterly disgusted, took his stool and sat down on the Silvanesti’s other side, between the elf and one of the cloaked strangers, both of whom had been observing the drama intently.
Tanis leant forward on his own stool. "None of this explains what either of you are doing here, I don't recall either of /you/ making a vow five years ago."
This time Dalamar spoke, "You left to seek news of the old Gods- Oh, you needn't look so surprised, we /were/ sitting only a few tables away when you discussed it- and as this was a goal not so far removed from our own, we thought to come back here, like you, after five years and discover what you may have found out."
For Dalamar that was almost cordial, particularly since he was speaking to Tanis, who he very much disliked.
"Nothing." Tanis's voice was bitter with remembered failure. "Nothing but charlatans and tricksters."
Raistlin caught Dalamar's gaze and the Dark elf raised an eyebrow. Their search had discovered little more, but everywhere there had been whispers, strange whispers of old gods, dragons and above all, war.

Skull Bearer.
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