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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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Thank you to Chetwynd for the beta.

This is a tale of a northern soul
Looking for his way back home
-Northern Soul, The Verve
Crepuscule
Chapter thirteen- Of Homecoming
Dalamar woke up quite suddenly, so suddenly in fact, that he didn't know what could have caused his sudden return to consciousness. It was only then that he realised he was alone in the nest of cloaks and blankets he and Raistlin had fallen asleep in. Quietly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he pulled his cloak on, quietly cursing as his sleep-worn hands slipped on the fastenings. His boots went on next, then he slipped into the night in search of his errant lover.
The sound of voices drew his attention, and he slipped closer, curious. It was not Raistlin, he discovered, but simply that oaf Caramon and the knight, arguing over something. Dalamar was prepared to just shrug and leave the fools to their bickering, when Sturm's voice drew his notice.
"-Running around at /his/ beck and call like a trained dog. Because that's how he treats you!"
"He's my brother! We look out for each other-"
"No! /You/ look out for /him/! The only one he looks out for is that blasted Dark elf!"
Dalamar crouched down, intrigued. It would be good to know the thoughts of these two, or, in Caramon's case, lack of thought. The dark robed elf was particularly curious about Sturm; if the knight was plotting something, it would be best to know about it.
"I know, I hate him too. But Raist's just making a mistake. I care for him, I'm his twin; I'm sure he cares for me in turn."
"And I am sure he doesn't. He was vicious to you this evening, because you didn't find that spellbook he wanted. The /roof/ was falling in and he still expects you to go running around doing his bidding, and then he is angry because you didn't as told! He is using you, can't you see?"
"Can't you see he needs me? Why do you think he told me to find that spellbook? Because he didn't want the Dark elf to know about it. He knows he's made a mistake Sturm, and he does care for me."
"You are deluding yourself if you think your brother will care for anyone save Nightson and himself. Tanis agrees, you are being used and duped, and, when you have outlived your purpose, he will just throw you away like so much rubbish."
"I don't have to listen to this, you are wrong, Sturm."
"And you are in denial, my friend."
Deciding he had heard enough, Dalamar crept away, smiling to himself.
He found Raistlin sitting away from the others, talking to the little gully dwarf that had followed them this far. The Dark elf shrugged, Bupu was often irritating, but unlike most members of this little group, she treated the Red Robe decently, and for that, he would put up with her. That, and the fact that the young mage seemed oddly attached to the little woman for reasons Dalamar couldn't begin to fathom.
Bupu saw the Silvanesti first, and her eyes went wide. Raistlin lay his hand on her shoulder.
"Farewell, little one."
Ah, so she was leaving. All for the best, really.
The gully dwarf nodded sadly, the tracks of tears clear on her dirty cheeks. "I go." She looked at Dalamar again, slightly nervous, then pointed a grubby finger in his direction,
"He look after you?" she asked the human wizard.
Raistlin turned and saw the elven mage. He sent his lover a quick smile and nodded to Bupu. The gully dwarf nodded, then caught the human's hand and kissed it, before scurrying off into the night.
The Red Robe had his eyes closed. "Farewell, Bupu."
Dalamar sat down beside him, sliding am arm around the young mage's waist. "I will not even to pretend to understand," he whispered, "because I cannot imagine why you care about her, but-" The Dark elf shrugged.
"I would not expect you to understand," Raistlin said softly, still looking out where the gully dwarf had just vanished. "In fact, I do not /want/ you to understand, because that would mean you knew what it was like to feel that weak and miserable. That despised."
The elven mage opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. Raistlin was right, the Dark elf didn't want understand, and he wished his companion didn't either. "I have never been weak, but am all too familiar with being despised."
The young wizard waved one hand idly. "You were hated because you were feared. For the same reason they-" he indicated the group "-hate us now. Gully dwarves are not feared."
Dalamar snorted at the idea. "They are despised as vermin, as Flint so aptly showed us earlier. They are weak, and despised because of it. Or pitied, which we both know is far worse."
"As miserable or weak as this Bupu may be," Dalamar sighed, "her company would be a sight better than the one at the moment. It would be pleasant to have someone who doesn't flinch at the sight of us or whisper as soon as they think we aren't listening."
Raistlin nodded, and Dalamar slid a little closer, tightening his hold around the mage's thin waist and nuzzling his shoulder. The human leant into the embrace, tipping his head back against the crook of the Dark elf's throat.
"We should get back to sleep," Dalamar said after a moment's silence. "We've a long walk tomorrow." They were heading back to Solace, to rest up and re-equip.
Raistlin looked up at Dalamar and smiled, a brilliant expression that warmed the Dark elf's heart; it had been too long since he last saw his lover smile like that.
"I don't think I could sleep," he said softly, reaching inside his robes to reveal-
The very spellbook he had commanded Caramon to find! Dalamar stared at it in amazement. "How..."
Still smiling, Raistlin nodded towards where Bupu had disappeared. "Thank my little friend."
The Dark elf started to laugh, amazed. "Clearly she's cleverer than she lets on, eavesdropping on our conversation!"
The young mage ran a hand lovingly over the binding. "That's the only way she could have known, otherwise she'd have presented me with another of those 'pretty rocks." He sent Dalamar a sly look and the dark robed elf laughed again, obediently pulling a handful of gems from his pocket. He had snatched them up while they had been looking for the spellbook; a bit of spare steel -or a couple of sapphires- were always useful.
Raistlin chuckled. "I thought so." He ran his fingers over the facets of a particularly big ruby. "Pretty rocks."
"Very pretty rocks," the Dark elf agreed. "Although I'd rather have your spellbook."
The tension in the human’s shoulders was obvious when he stood up. "I didn't mean to keep it from you, it's just that-"
The Dark elf got to his feet and kissed the young mage's forehead. "I understand.."
"It's as much yours as it is mine, that wasn't the reason-"
Another kiss. "I know."
Raistlin sighed, and slid his hands around Dalamar's waist, head on his companion’s chest. "I think sleep might be a good idea after all."
The Silvanesti nodded, then pulled away, catching Raistlin's hands and tugging on it for the young mage to follow him. "And I can tell you all about the entertaining conversation I overheard between Brightblade and your brother..."
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Tired as they were, they only managed to snatch a few hours sleep before the dawn. Or rather, the dawn woke Raistlin. Dalamar would quite happily have slumbered on if his lover hadn't woken him.
"What?" the Dark elf growled, rubbing his eyes against the glare.
The Red Robe was standing, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Look."
Dalamar looked, then he in turn stumbled upright. The dewy grass was cold under his feet as he stared at the column of smoke rising to the west. It couldn't be Que-shu, the smoke would have been blown away by now, and anyway this was further away, towards...
"Solace," the Dark elf breathed.
The others were awake by now, all staring at the smoke.
"Yes," Raistlin whispered. "Solace is burning."
Uproar broke out, Flint shouting denial, Tanis shaking his head and damning himself for not having stayed to defend his home, Goldmoon trying to comfort everyone at once.
Raistlin and Dalamar alone were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The Silvanesti was unable to suppress sorrow at knowing that the town was gone. The place had been his home for almost two years, so short a span in elven terms, but he had been happy there. Another part of his past gone.
The red-robed wizard’s expression was unknowable, a sure sign that the sight too affected him, although he wasn't one to show it.
"Enough!" Tanis broke into the various arguments. "I say we head for Solace, there may be something we can do."
Dalamar remembered the melted ruins of Que-shu and shook his head. "What makes you think there is anything we can do? What if we come back to find Solace in the same state as the Plainsmen's village? What then?"
Tanis' lips thinned. "Do you have any better ideas?"
"If nothing else, we might find some trace of who did this and where they might be based,” Raistlin whispered to him. "We should go."
The Dark elf looked at the young mage, then nodded reluctantly. He just hoped there wouldn't be any of the attackers left by the time they got there.
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The journey back to Solace was mercifully uneventful. What draconians had made it out of the destroyed Xak Tsaroth had clearly fled in another direction because they saw no one.
The smoke was dissipating by the time they approached Solace, but what was left hung like a pall over the ruins of the town.
Solace had been devastated.
Although the dragonarmies had not wiped it from the map as they had Que-shu, the damage was still horrific: Trees uprooted and burnt to ashes, buildings in pieces, and, worse, draconians everywhere.
Covering their faces, the little group started towards the remains of the town.
Dalamar stiffened each time a draconian glanced their way, but none paid them any attention. News of Xak Tsaroth had clearly not reached this far, and they were not stopped.
It was almost impossible to recognise the place as Solace. The house where he and Raistlin had lived was gone, its tree a charred hulk. Theobald's school was gone, torn down to its foundations. The Dark elf wondered if the mage had got out in time. Likely, Theobald might not be very bright but he could sense danger very well, like a weasel.
The inn alone was in one piece. Although its tree was a mess of carbonised splinters, the building itself seemed to have been picked out of the tree and set down.
Half-elven nodded towards it with a blank expression. He, like most of the others, was beyond speech.
Inside, the inn was a mess, soot carpeting every surface. The draconians obviously didn't care, there were half a dozen of them sprawled around on the chairs. Dalamar also spotted a group of hobgoblins, three human mercenaries, and a handful of Solace folk, the latter huddling in a corner out of the way.
There was one familiar sight: Tika, the barmaid, was still there, and she nearly dropped the glass she was cleaning at the sight of them. She recovered quickly though. "Sit down anywhere, /strangers/," she called.
The black-robed elf nodded, thankful. The last thing they wanted was to be recognised.
Caramon didn't seem to get the hint; he opened his mouth to speak, and Raistlin had to stand on his foot to shut the oaf up.
They took a table in the far corner, sitting down with relief. It had been a long walk to get here, and the sight of their burnt down homes was more exhausting than anything physical.
The two mages seated themselves on the wooden bench, Raistlin's shoulders shaking with suppressed coughs in the smoky air. Dalamar slid a hand under the table and took hold of the human mage's hand.
Tika bustled over. "What'll you be having?" Her voice was cold, in keeping with the deception.
Tanis’s voice was equally distant. "Ale and food."
"And wine for my brother," Caramon put in, indicating the young Red Robe.
Raistlin shook his head, scowling at his twin for the slip. "Wine for him," he whispered, nodding at his companion. "Hot water for me."
The young woman nodded and left, coming back with a skillet of the inn's famed spiced potatoes and setting it down on the table. Then she ducked into the shadows and threw her arms around Caramon.
Dalamar backed off and shot a quick glance over at the draconians, who were mercifully engrossed in their drinking. Now was /not/ the time.
"There, there." The big warrior looked just as shocked as everyone, awkwardly patting the barmaid on the back, his face scarlet with embarrassment.
"Tika, calm down," Tanis intervened. "We've got an audience."
Pulling herself together, the girl nodded and straightened her clothes, starting to dish out the spiced potatoes. Another barmaid, Dezra, if the Dark elf remembered correctly, arrived carrying the ale, wine and hot water.
Raistlin gave a hoarse sigh of relief and started to mix his tea. His cough had been bothering him and the soot was not helping.
"Tell us what happened to Solace," Tanis said softly.
Tika leant in, speaking in whispers. There wasn't much to tell. The High Theocrat had allied with the Dragon Highlords, only to be betrayed. Five dragons had attacked Solace, burning the town to ashes. The draconian army had then come, occupying what was left of the town and enslaving its inhabitants. Every day more and more of them were sent to the slave mines, leaving only the skilled, like Theros Ironfeld.
"I fear for him," the young woman admitted. "He swore to me last night he would work for them no more. It all started with that captive party of elves-"
"Elves?" Tanis interrupted, too loudly. "What are elves doing here?"
Dalamar shifted and drew his hood down further as the draconians glanced over at them. A cloaked figure by the door raised his head and stared at them too.
There was a moment's uncomfortable silence, then a draconian called for more ale. Tika sighed and set the skillet down. "I better go. I'll leave that here. Finish them off."
They ate in silence. Raistlin drank down his tea and even managed a little of the food himself. Caramon, for once, ate little. He was too busy staring at the barmaid.
The two mages shared a glance and shrugged, they couldn't care less.
Across the room, one of the draconians threw an arm around Tika's waist, slurring at her drunkenly. Tanis had to all but hold Caramon and Sturm down to avoid a fight.
Flint finished his ale and sighed, "Well, what do we do now? We came back to Solace for supplies and find nothing but draconians. My house is little more than cinders. Tanis doesn't even have a vallenwood tree, much less a house. All we've got are platinum Disks of some ancient goddess and two mages -one sick, one mad- with a few new spells." The dwarf shrank back from the shared glower he received but continued anyway. "We can't eat the Disks, and these two haven't learnt how to conjure up food, so even if we knew where to go, we'd starve before we got there!"
Goldmoon suggested that they avoid Haven. If there was a chance, it was going to be like this. Tanis suggested Qualinesti, Dalamar disagreed and the two started arguing.
This was interrupted by Tika, who managed to make her way over to them again. Caramon asked for more potatoes and Half-elven paused to thank her before returning to the Dark elf, who was looking mutinous.
Tasslehoff spoke up for the first time, "Tanis, company."
The stranger from the far table, who had been looking at them throughout the meal, had stood up and was making his way over to them.
The draconians had seen him too, and one of them stuck a clawed foot out, tripping him up. The stranger went flying headlong into a table, much to the draconian's amusement. An amusement that ended abruptly when it saw the stranger's face.
Growling, the creature lunged forward and tore the man's hood off. Dalamar winced and backed off. Not a man at all, but an elf, with the copper hair and green eyes of a Qualinesti elflord. Damn. The draconians’s expressions -such as these creatures could have expressions- showed all too well what they thought of elves.
Raistlin's slender hand closed comfortingly over his lover’s shoulder.
The elf tried to back off, only to be caught by the draconian, who threw him back against the bar. Tika tried to intervene, only to be shoved aside. The other customers, amused by the show, started shouting at the draconian to kill the elf. Sturm drew his sword.
Dalamar got up, tugging on the young Red Robe’s sleeve. "Let's go."
The young mage shook his head, still sitting and drinking his tea, a small smile on his golden lips.
"Why? Raistlin, they'll call the guards in a moment."
Another shake of the head, and the human mage slid a hand in the crook of the Dark elf’s elbow and pulled him back down. "If we run," he whispered, "they'll notice. It'll look very suspicious. If we sit here and pretend to have nothing to do with this, they'll leave us alone. This might be our chance to discover what's going on. Let those fools get into a fight, it might reveal a few things."
Dalamar looked back at the rapidly escalating brawl. Tika had just hammered a draconian over the head with her skillet while one hobgoblin made a quick escape through a window.
"All I see is that these creatures really hate elves," he said darkly.
"Then stay here, don't attract attention to yourself." Raistlin's voice was sharp.
The Silvanesti sighed, cast fate to the winds and sat back down, picking up his empty wine glass and refilling it.
Goldmoon stared at them, appalled. "Use your magic!" she demanded, grabbing the human wizard by the arm. "Do something."
Raistlin looked at her coldly and pulled his arm away, pointedly ignoring her.
Glaring at them, the priestess picked up her pouch and ran over to Riverwind. Outside, Dalamar could hear warning horns blowing. Again he made to stand up. This was ridiculous! They would be killed if they stayed here.
Again, his companion pulled him back down, shaking his head. Fighting down a growing surge of panic, the Dark elf sat down, muscles tensed in fight or flight reflex as the sound of the horns drew nearer.
"Great Reorx!" Flint shouted. "We've got to get out of here! Come on! Out the back!"
"There is no back!" Tika cried, in a panic.
"No," said a satisfied voice from the door. "There is no back. You are my prisoners."
Dalamar looked over and sneered at the sight of Fewmaster Toede, the cowardly hobgoblin who had been amongst those that had chased them from Solace. Thank Nuitari, he didn't recognise them.
Behind him were more goblins and several draconians, more than they could fight. One by one, the combatants sheathed their weapons, even Sturm.
Toede swaggered in. "More refugee scum from Solamnia," he snorted, glancing at the knight.
"Yes," Tanis spoke too quickly, but Fewmaster was too stupid to notice the slip. "We’ve journeyed long days from the north. We did not intend to cause trouble. These draconians started it-"
"Yes, yes." Fewmaster waved a foul smelling hand. "I've heard this before," he paused, catching sight of the two mages still seated in the corner. "Hey you! What are you doing, skulking back there? Fetch them, lads!"
Dalamar sent Raistlin a questioning look. /Now what?/
The young wizard shrugged and gathered his pouches. The Dark elf shook his head and did the same as the goblins approached.
"On yer feet!" one snarled. The black-robed elf sent it an idle glance, making sure it knew he was not in least bit intimidated before standing up, reaching down to help Raistlin up.
The goblin yanked on his shoulder, pulling him away from the young mage. Dalamar's hood fell back.
Blast!
The Dark elf turned, scowling balefully at the goblin, who snatched its hand away and scurried back.
"Gods, there's another one!" Toede gasped, taking another step back. "The Highlord'll pay good bounty for that one! Bring both of them here with the others."
Despite Fewmaster's encouragement, the goblins looked reluctant to approach the two wizards. They skulked back, occasionally prodding at them with their spears.
Dalamar and Raistlin exchanged a look and raised their hands as if to surrender. Then, they smiled.
The goblins had just enough time realise how much trouble they were in before an unpleasant combination of spell -three magical projectiles from Raistlin, and a withering blast of magic from Dalamar, quick spells that needed no material components- hit them.
The remaining goblins decided they were urgently needed elsewhere and edged towards the door nervously. Toede had gone an unflattering pasty colour and ducked behind a larger minion.
"Don't kill them!" the hobgoblin shouted unnecessarily -no one was going near the two mages. "Lord Verminaard pays a handsome bounty for elves and magic-users. But," he turned back to them,"the Lord does not pay a bounty for live kenders -only for their tongues! Do that again, and the kender dies!"
This didn't get the reaction Toede was clearly expecting. Raistlin raised an eyebrow in a clear 'and why should we care?' expression, and Dalamar idly brushed down his robes, pointedly drawing attention to their colour.
The Dark elf looked over at the rest of the group. Their faces were locked in shock and anger. Half-elven sent him a pleading look that he ignored. All the same, for all their posturing, he and the young mage were /not/ in control of this situation and it might be best to aquiesce without a fuss before Fewmaster decided they were simply not worth the bounty. He had no desire to die under goblin blades.
Raistlin must have come to the same conclusion, because after warning the goblins against laying a hand on either of them he surrendered.
Dalamar did the same and followed the young mage over to the group.
He started to have second thoughts, however, where Toede demanded they hand over their belonging. His were not the problem, his spellbooks were warded and, while he hated losing his dagger, it couldn't be helped. The Disks of Mishakal were another matter entirely, and it took all of Raistlin's persuasion to convince Goldmoon that they would be quite safe.
If they were anything like the staff, the Dark elf thought, the Disks would be fine. His hands ached at the memory.
At last, there was only one person left that wouldn't hand over his sword.
Sturm.
Again, Dalamar wondered if they might not be better off without the knight.
Raistlin stepped closer to the Solamnic, speaking softly, "I will ensure its safety."
The knight turned to him, face contorted with hate. "I would rather hand it over to the draconians!"
The Red Robe met his gaze, measure for measure. "Then you will, but unless you want to see that hobgoblin-" a nod at Toede "-with your father's sword, then I suggest you trust me."
Sturm made to draw the blade, and not, Dalamar suspected, in order to hand it over. He stepped close to Raistlin and his fingers twisted, a clear sign that though he'd given his spellbook over, he still had enough magic to attack.
Behind them, Toede threatened to kill them all if they didn’t surrender their weapons. Stiffly, Sturm unsheathed the blade and lay it down on the pile of weaponry.
Raistlin was right, Fewmaster was very interested in the knight's fine sword, and the young mage made good of his promise, casting a spell of protection on the weapons, a spell so vile that none wanted to go near them, let alone touch them.
Dalamar was the only one, standing close to his wizard companion, to notice the telltale marks of flashpowder on the golden skin of his hands.
Their eyes met, and the mages shared a smile even as they were herded out of the inn and into the wreckage of Solace.

Skull Bearer.
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