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Red on Red	By : Sylviana_of_Qualinost Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 4499 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonlance or any of the characters. DL belongs to Wizards of the Coast and Weis and Hickman. No money is made from these installments.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 9: Interlude.
Implementing Raistlin's plan turned out to be a more difficult task than expected. The crux of the operation relied upon being able to have the majority of Langtree's mercenaries part-take in one of the caravan ambushes among the main road. Terris Loft, however, was clever enough not to have that happen. He selected the men for the missions himself and normally went out with them. Just to test his new recruits' determination, he would occasionally choose several of the men from the Langtree group to join- but never the whole lot of them. And never Raistlin or Silviana.
“No use to have anybody aware of the fact that I got me some mages under my belt. Even old Blacksworth never came out with us except when it came down to capturing you lot,” he said with his damnable laugh, when an increasingly frustrated Raistlin attempted to get at the root of the problem. “I realize you must be bored, but wait until we take Hope's End- you'll have plenty to do then.”
To make matters worse, less and less caravans were coming by way of the forest route, the dangers of which were becoming common knowledge for the local folk who, it became apparent, were devising new ways to reach the city. Yet the spy network which operated under the command of Loft and brought him information regarding incoming merchant trains was extensive and efficient. Whenever someone did choose to brave the forest road, Terris knew well in advance and the goods never made it past his conveniently orchestrated ambush. Which, of course, cleared up the matter of how the Langtree mercenaries were caught so completely off guard.
As it were, things were stagnating. Days bled tediously into weeks until the last dregs of summer slowly released their grip upon the land and the consistent chill of autumn set in for good. The only bright side to their situation was that the longer the Langtree group remained among Loft's encampment, the more the bandits dropped their guard and the mercenaries were able to talk and act more freely. Very slowly Raistlin's plan was being passed among the company, first to Rudd, who -still the unofficial leader- gave his gruff approval, and then from one man to the next. There was no objection from anyone- none of the men had any desire to attack the very town that months ago they had helped rescue. Whatever the case with other mercenaries, the men of the baron of Langtree did, in fact, have a sense of honor. To alleviate suspicion, the men began to intermingle with Loft's outlaws, sharing fireside drinks and stories. Nobody, however, tried to interact with the goblins and hobgoblins who were a minor division within this unofficial army. Those kept apart from everyone, taking over the far left side of their woodland encampment.
Raistlin too kept apart from everyone else, their long period of inactivity reflecting badly on his health. He had noticed some time ago that he did not seem to feel quite as wretched when he was actively engaged with an assignment. But several days, let along weeks, of a sedimentary existence almost completely incapacitated him. His cough grew worse and worse until even simply breathing aggravated his lungs. Silviana too noticed this, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as she watched his thin body shake and shudder under the weight of his ailment. It made things worse that since their play acting in the clearing whilst picking herbs, Raistlin blatantly avoided her and all her attempts to ease his pain were sarcastically spurned.
One time during the night when a particularly bad spasm seized him, Silviana hardened her resolve and went to sit by him, placing a palm on one of his thin shoulders as he lay curled on his side.
“Raistlin, I think that you should let me see what I can do. After all this is the entire reason I am here in the first place,” she stated softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling of a nearby fire.
The response was not anything Silviana was prepared for and she had thought that she had already seen Raistlin in foul moods before. The young mage sat up and threw her hand off so violently that Silviana gasped. He then gave her a sharp push away from him, making her fall backwards on the ground.
“I don't need you! Do you understand? You can't do anything for me,” Raistlin hissed with unprecedented viciousness. “Now tell my oaf of a brother to get over here and make me that brew so I can finally get some sleep!”
Silviana realized that she was sobbing hard, but in the moment she forgot to feel embarrassed about it.
“I can make the brew for you,” she managed to get out through her tears.
“No not you, just get Caramon and get out of my sight.”
Silviana bolted from him, barely able to contain her overflowing anguish. She ran to her own spot on the other side of the campfire and flung herself on her cot, throwing a thick blanket over her head and biting her clenched fist hard to muffle the sound of her desperate cries. Unchecked tears streamed fiercely down her cheeks. Again, she chided herself, I did it again. I should have learned not to love the first time- but it is always the same with me. I want what I cannot have as though I am addicted to being rejected.
Silviana had felt herself grow steadily in confidence ever since this journey began. For the first time she felt like she was somehow being of use to others. But this- Raistlin banishing her from him in such a manner- ripped away all the emotional strength she had managed to grow within herself. At once she felt herself revert back into the same fidgety and nervous young woman, the one that could stare out the window for hours dreaming of a wider world she was not a part of. She felt a fool now for ever wanting to join it- for ever leaving the Tower of Wayreth. Yes, she had been restless and bored there... but better to be restless and bored than to once more feel her heart break against the walls of another cold, cruel man.
Unbidden and unwanted, the memories of Qualinost came back to her...
... the chrysanthemums flourished freely in the gardens surrounding the Citadel of the Sun and the residence of the royal family beside it. Several elven children ran through the lush grass, laughing abundantly. Two little girls, one with shining golden hair and one with wavy, lustrous brown fell tangled in a heap beside an exquisite fountain depicting two slender wood nymphs, back to back. The girls were flushed and excited, loosely holding their arms around one another as they laughed gaily.
“Laurana nooo, I can't – I can't,” the brunette was gasping through her giggles.
“Yes, yes- you must! I found you and caught you which means you must do what I dare you to do, Silvi!” Laurana sat up in the grass and tugged the other girl's hair playfully. Three more elf children gathered around the two girls.
“What's this, Silviana does not except the dare?” A fair-haired boy who resembled Laurana was saying with exaggerated shock. “That is against the rules of the game!”
Silviana wrinkled her nose comically.
“I just don't want to do THAT dare-oh please Laurana, can you not choose something else?”
“Nope- it is my choice since I won the last round- and I say you must do it!”
“You must do it, you must do it!” the other children chanted gaily.
Resigned, Silviana stood up from the ground and brushed out the wrinkles from her sturdy green dress. Already she could feel the flush of embarrassment coloring her fair cheeks.
“I suppose if I must,” she mumbled under her breath and a round of applause broke out among the other children. In a group, they ran noiselessly towards a short wall which separated the public garden from the private, inner garden belonging to the royal family. Picking a seemly apple tree which had sturdy branches that reached over the stone wall and a thick canopy to hide the culprits, the children climbed stealthily up its winding trunk and positioned themselves to be able to see inside the inner garden.
There, surrounded by rose bushes of the rarest variety, another elven boy sat rigidly on a marble bench, bending over a large book in his lap. He was about thirteen years of age, which was about four years older than the rest of the children and he lacked entirely their liveliness and playful enthusiasm. Dark haired and somber, he carried himself as though he was at his tender age already above all the frivolities of youth.
Laurana gave Silviana a small push from the back and whispered:
“Come on- get going before he notices us.”
Holding her breath Silviana slowly began to climb through the branches until she was level with the other side of the wall, at which point she threw caution to the wind and jumped noisily down in front of the dark haired boy.
“What in the name of Paladine,” the boy swore by the name of their long departed deity as he noticed the younger girl suddenly fall from somewhere up above him, her hair and dress hopelessly disheveled. “Silviana, you look a mess- I am sure your mother would not be impressed.” He locked his serious gray eyes on hers and she felt the tips of her pointed ears begin to burn under his disapproving gaze.
“Oh, Porthios you are such a drag,” she said, throwing up her hands to hide her embarrassed state. She then plopped herself down on the marble bench next to him, distinctly aware that somewhere above in the tree her playmates were holding their breath. “Whatcha reading?” She reached for the book on his lap.
“'The Codex of Elven Law, circa 450 before the Cataclysm',” Porthios angrily snapped the book shut, “What are you doing here- you are not supposed to be within the inner garden!”
“That sounds awfully boring,”Silviana scrunched up her face, not understanding why anyone wanted to study outdated elven law on such a lovely spring afternoon. “As for what I am doing here...”
She took a deep breath and grabbed his face between two hands, pulling him down to her and locking her lips on his. Porthios was in such a state of shock that he forgot to pull away and several long seconds passed before Silviana let him go and bounded off the bench and out of his reach. At once a chorus of uncontrollable laughter came from above them, accompanied by several apples tossed at Porthios's head from the upper branches of the tree.
Silviana herself could barely stifle the hilarity she felt at the look of pure indignation on Porthios' face.
“My sister put you up to this didn't she?” He turned on Silviana in a rage, arms raised to shield himself from the rain of falling apples- but Silviana was already scrambling back over the wall, nimble hands grasping firmly the overhanging branches of the tree. Back on the other side, Silviana was joined by her friends, who quickly ushered her away from the wall.
“Hurry, hurry, he is in such a state,” Laurana was saying gleefully, grabbing Silviana by the hand as the elven children ran quickly toward the furthest part of the public garden...
... there are those to whom love comes gradually in the form of friendship that eventually blossoms into something more. This was not the case with Silviana. When she did love it was instantaneous- although not realized at the same speed. Yet when she kissed Porthios under the overhanging branches of the apple tree she had known that she had loved him from the start. Loved him and could not have him. Friendship was encouraged among all classes of elven society- but only the highest ranking nobility could expect to be romantically involved with members of the royal house. And Porthios was the heir to the Speaker of the Suns, destined to one day be the ruler of the Qualinesti elves.
Of course, she tried to ignore it and repress it, but she was a member of House Mystic which, if not noble, was nevertheless high ranking enough for their paths to cross on a regular basis. Sometimes they would come upon each other in the public gardens or the library and sit reading together for long hours. A certain type of comfortable familiarity emerged between them and the hours of reading would generate hours of discussion. There were times when Silviana caught him looking at her over the edge of some book, his usually severe gaze seeming somehow softer. She pretended like she did not notice and years went by.
Porthios never exposed her and the other children for that childish prank. Nor did he ever mention that silly kiss to Silviana, for which she was especially grateful.
Then, one evening, during a ball hosted in honor of the summer Solstice, they danced together. It was the biggest event of the elven calendar, as it represented the longest day and shortest night of the year- a celebration of the sun in all its glory. All of Qualinost was ablaze with magical lights, suspended in the branches of the blooming trees by mages of House Mystic. Crowds overran the streets of the city as dozens of musicians played merry tunes on a myriad of tinkling instruments. The nobles and the common folk mingled and danced freely together.
Silviana and Laurana spun around together amid the other rejoicing elves, when Silviana spotted Porthios alone and grim, leaning against a tree away from the festive crowd. Seeing him she stopped suddenly and Laurana followed her gaze.
“He is so sullen and never dances!” The golden haired princess observed with regret. Although she never said anything to her friend, she knew of Silviana's feelings, seeing on countless occasions her face light up at the sight of Porthios. Just like the day of the dare, Laurana gave Silviana a light push.
“Go on! Go ask him to dance- I am sure he would for you!”
Silviana pushed through the throng of dancing revelers just as the beat of the drums turned wild and loud, filling her head and body with unusual certainty. Reaching Porthios at the tree she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the street.
“Come dance!”She exclaimed.
“Dancing is such a waste of time-” Porthios protested weakly, nevertheless letting her pull him along.
“Then why did you come out at all? You could have stayed in the palace,” Silviana chided. They were now in the middle of the street, surrounded by sound, light and festivity. The rhythm of the drums was growing more urgent and insistent, taking over all senses. Against all odds, Porthios found himself grasping Silviana tightly around the waist, going through the steps of the dance and moving to the raging music around them. His answer to her question was lost in the noise and whatever it was Silviana did not want to hear it anyway. She just wanted to dance.
And dance they did, well into the night. They danced until they were tired and worn and soaked with sweat and then danced more just for good measure. Somewhere amid the primal beat of music, Porthios lost composure and Silviana saw him laugh, truly laugh for the first time. The magic lights shining in the trees reflected in his eyes like stars and there was happiness there too and genuine affection. Pressed tight against him, Silviana could feel the straining hardness of his phallus and realized with a shock that his body was responding to hers with desire.
Porthios too realized this and as soon as he fully comprehended what had happened his face turned hard and impassive. He looked upon Silviana with something close to outrage and slowly pushed her away with cool civility, so as not to draw attention from anyone in the crowd of dancers. She wanted to pull him back to her but was afraid of causing a scene and so let him melt away slowly into the darkness of the trees. Her triumphant air did not leave her even then- his body did not lie, he wanted her. Bidding her time, Silviana danced with several other partners before politely excusing herself and merging with the forest in the same manner Porthios had done.
Once she was out of sight of the festive street, Silviana hiked her gown up around her knees and ran along a well known path toward the public gardens. Somehow, she had a feeling that she knew where to find Porthios. Before she knew it, she was in front of the short wall separating the inner garden. The moon was full and she could see perfectly the apple tree with its branches spreading out to the other side. There were no sentries or servants on duty on the night of the Solstice- everyone would be out celebrating until the first rays of the sun appeared on the horizon.
Silviana climbed the tree as agilely as she did when she was a child, neatly making her way across the wall and jumping down among the rose bushes. She was right, he was there. On that very marble bench where years ago she gave him a kiss on a dare. He was hunched over, his head in his hands, long black hair hiding his face. He did not look up when she landed on the ground in front of him, knowing, just as she had known where to find him, that she would come.
“We can't do this, Silviana,” Porthios' voice was harsh and shaky which was distinctly unlike him. “You know it is forbidden, you are not of high enough rank.”
“I know,” Silviana whispered, “I know and yet I want you.” She was daring, so much more daring than she usually was.
Porthios choked on a bitter laugh and looked up at her. His eyes held incalculable anger; anger at himself for wanting her, anger at her for making him want her.
“Well I don't want you! Do you hear? I don't want you,” he said it almost hysterically, trying to convince himself.
Silviana hung her head and nodded.
“Alright then I apologize,” she turned away from him, feeling despair begin to hit her and wanting to leave before she cried. She reached her arms up to grasp the upper branches of the tree and pull herself over the wall once more.
That's when she felt his arms come around her from behind in a hard embrace. She gasped, letting go instantly of the branch, and leaned into him as he pulled them both down unto the soft grass.
“I don't want you,” he was still saying. Yet he was hard, so hard against her.
“I don't want you,” Silviana found herself turned over roughly to lie on her belly, with Porthios' weight pressing down on top of her. She was panting, sick with her desire, as she felt his hands slide feverishly up her legs, pulling her skirt up over her hips and leaving her exposed.
“I don't want you,” he said through clenched teeth, his mouth kissing and licking the back of her bare shoulder then nipping the nape of her neck.
“I don't want you,” his hand was prying open his breeches and there was a temporary pause in his ravaging as he pulled himself out and positioned himself at her opening. Silviana's hands clenched grass as she stilled herself for this intrusion, earth digging underneath her nails. Her face was very close to a rose bush, one full and fragrant blossom brushing her cheek gently under the light of the moon.
“I don't want you,” Porthios said a final time as he slid himself inside her, both of them stifling moans of long denied pleasure.
Silviana did not believe him...

... Silviana pulled herself together before the other memories, the truly hurtful ones surfaced. What she hung on to was the memory of Porthios' face , full of emotion and his voice, so unconvincingly telling her that he did not want her. She wondered why that particular memory stuck out the most.
Then it struck her. Raistlin saying that he did not need her. Porthios repeating over and over that he did not want her. It was one and the same- a resentment of unhinging desire; an attempt to deny the obvious. Which meant, of course, that...
“He does want me,” Silviana whispered to herself and smiled sadly. But why push her away? What happened with Porthios was inevitable and his later actions, if cruel, were at least understandable. And Raistlin.. Raistlin was different. It must have something to do with his deeply ingrained self- loathing, as well as, his obsession with his magic and control, Silviana decided.
Well, she wasn't fool enough to try and fix it. She had had her fill of anguish at Porthios' hands once their lengthy liaison was discovered and he began to treat her with utmost contempt. If Raistlin was going to punish her for the fact that he was not indifferent to her, then she would just have to retain a professionally cool demeanor and show him that it was only friendship that mattered to her. Perhaps this tension would subside and in time they could be comfortable with one another again like they had been at the beginning of the journey.
Silviana sat up and wiped her eyes and face, remembering then that Raistlin had asked for Caramon. With an effort, the elf-woman got to her feet and set out in search of the big warrior.
Separated from her by the fire, Raistlin watched Silviana get up from her cot and begin to slowly move among the mostly sleeping men. He had to admit that he did not anticipate her reaction. He had expected anger and a blatant retort akin to those he usually received from her in similar circumstances. He had not expected such excruciating pain behind her slanted eyes, nor her tears.
Raistlin was not sure if he felt guilty or disgusted at this display of weakness. He had to admit to himself that he had reacted rather more harshly than he normally would have, which annoyed him, as he found himself lashing out more and more at her as of late. Raistlin thought of himself as normally fairly composed and detached, not counting his jibes at Caramon. The fact that this woman was making a jumbled mess of his emotions was starting to really bother him. Her fidgety nature and her concern were an irritant to him, yet he admired her persistence and the steely confidence he saw in her when she was backed into a corner. On top of that, she was truly beautiful- a fact that he could see despite his cursed eyes since her elven youth did not decay under their gaze.
He did not want to want her, however, lashing out at her only proved that he did not have a grasp on his emotions. That decided Raistlin; he would keep himself under control and not give into the anger he felt as a response to the electric currents she sent spiraling through him at the barest touch.
At that moment Caramon and Silviana came into view, the elf-woman holding his brother by the elbow. Caramon looked especially downcast. This whole situation was taking a greater toll on him than the rest. Being the strongest of Loft's new recruits, the big warrior was sent out on all the caravan ambushes since their capture along with Terris' men. He managed to avoid killing anybody, not perceiving the enterprise as an honorable one, but the fact that he was there at all really lay heavy on his soul.
“Silvi said that you wanted some tea made, Raist?” Caramon said with a trace of lingering sadness in his voice, his eyes avoiding Raistlin's.
Raistlin cleared his throat.
“If you don't mind, brother...” he said without a trace of usual rancor.
“Of course,” Caramon actually appeared heartened by the small task and walked away in search of a pot of water.
Silviana sat cross legged near Raistlin. The fire beside them had burned down to embers.
Raistlin cleared his throat again. If he had to do this thing, he might as well get it over with.
“I want to...apologize for my recent behavior. I do not want to interfere with your work and what you have been sent to do here. But I find it hard to accept help and my poor health has a foul impact on my mood,” He said quietly.
Silviana smiled warmly, all traces of anguish gone from her grass-green eyes.
“It's alright, Raistlin... I think I understand,” she replied. “Does that mean you'll let me see what I can do to relieve your pain?”
“I suppose so,” Raistlin shrugged noncommittally. He then thought of something else he had to say.
“Silviana, I hope you understand that my behavior out there in the clearing... with the herbs, was a point of necessity and that I do not mean anything by it.”
Strangely, her smile faltered for a split second.
“Of course Raistlin,” she said softly. “I did not presume that you would ever want too..”
“No I would not,” he put in shortly as she trailed off, feeling embarrassed. Just then Caramon came back, carrying a steaming mug with Raistlin's medicine. The young mage thought he never felt so relieved to see his brother.
“Here you go, Raist,” Caramon handed his twin the mug, which the other accepted promptly.
“Thank you,” Raistlin said with such genuine feeling that Caramon was taken aback. Pleasantly surprised, the big warrior took a seat next to his brother and Silviana and heaved a great, heavy sigh.
“Raist, I do not think I can take much more of this,” Caramon was saying. “This is not honest work and the people we have to rob... well they are just innocent folk. It isn't fair!”
“I know brother, I know,” Raistlin was for once in no mood to be sarcastic. He too was growing weary of this game. He looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. Satisfied he leaned over closer to his companions. “What we need is a way to get all of us in on the ambush so that we can implement the plan..” Raistlin trailed off, his eyes falling unto one of the large cauldrons used to brew soup for the camp. The young mage chuckled to himself. Of course, it was really all so simple...
“What is it Raist?” Caramon followed his twin's gaze, but could not figure out what the other was looking at.
“Caramon... there are thirty men who get taken to ambush. Fifteen of those are regulars that go no matter what. The other fifteen rotate. Who are the men that always go?”
Caramon scratched his head, thinking hard and named off Loft's favorite cronies, while Raistlin nodded pensively. Silviana leaned in closer to the two brothers, her interest peaked. A thrill of adrenaline rushed through her, making her forget her earlier distress.
“What we have to do is make sure that those fifteen are too incapacitated to go into an ambush so that Terris has no choice but to take us.”
“What are you thinking, Raist?”
Raistlin looked over at Silviana,
“How much powdered mandrake do you have left?” He asked her.
“Quite a bit still why do you...” she followed his eyes and stared at the soup cauldron. She knew then what he implied. “That's risky, how would we...?”
“Leave that bit to me,” Raistlin reassured her.
Caramon was looking over from his brother to the elf-woman.
“I don't understand,” the big man said sulkily.
“Let's just say brother,” a note of familiar exasperation was back in Raistlin's voice, “that the morning of the next raid, the bulk of Terris' force will be down with a very serious stomach illness they will all assume is food poisoning.”
Raistlin smiled a rather nasty smile, feeling infinitely better.
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Red on Red