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Summer of Flame	By : sinaline Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1891 -:- 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
- 13
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- 15
Chapter Twelve

The Path of Destiny

Raistlin had fallen back to sleep again. He knew he was asleep, he had to be. There was no other explanation for what he was seeing and hearing.
He found himself in the Dome of Creation again, the place of Gods, only this time he was alone with only a few others he didn’t recognize. Well, except for her. Marion Uth Maleste, the one who had originally tracked him down as the new Guardian, and his predecessor. In a way, she had trained him.
The others all carried the mark and were as varied in species and calling as one could get. All were Fragments. They stood loosely in a crowd except for the clear space in the center of them all where they grouped around in a loose circle. In the center of the circle was a space of blue light.
Who carries the Blue Star?
Raistlin found himself stepping forward, “I do.”
You know the reason you have been called? What sacrifice must be made for the Greater Balance, and are you willing to give it?
For a moment Raistlin mulled this over. Sacrifice? A knot formed and he swallowed, but he knew that if he wasn’t everything would simply cease to exist. He closed his eyes then opened them with resolution showing in his golden eyes.
“If it means that the Balance is kept, yes,” Raistlin answered. “I must or all creation is destroyed.”
Then wake up.
“Raistlin, wake up!” called a voice, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Crysania looking down at him in worry as she soothed him. “It’s only a bad dream.”
Raistlin sat up, the remnants of the dream slipping away, except for the command to wake up. To what? He didn’t fully understand. He had a feeling that time was slowing winding down and that if he didn’t come to understand that creation was at stake. He shook his head and said, “I think it was more than a bad dream.”
Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he leaned over and put his head in his hands. Crysania moved over to his side of the bed and kneeling behind him on the bed rubbed his back in reassurance even if she did not fully understand what was going on, but she asked, “Does it have anything to do with the Miiro?”
He looked up suddenly in surprise, “How could you know anything about that?”
She worried at her bottom lip, “In the Abyss, when you faced Takhisis, it was not Paladine who saved us. It was you, only you had... ah... transformed into a being of light. She called you ‘Miiro’ and said that to enjoy the reprieve, while it lasts. You came to after and didn’t remember anything. I’m assuming it was because it wasn’t... quite... you.”
Raistlin stared into the dying embers of the fire with a distressed look on his face. “That’s the second time I had a dream, or a vision, telling me to wake up,” he told her finally. “That I remember, anyway. Sometimes, I am not sure who I am and what I am supposed to wake up to. But it’s linked to this.”
He held up his hand and showed her the ring, the Blue Star, that she had first noticed on the ship to Thonvil. She held his hand as she looked at the ring, “It is definitely holy, but not good nor evil, nor chaotic or lawful. It is simply Neutrality, and sits in the Balance. What is its name?”
“It is called the ‘Blue Star’,” he answered quietly.
For a long moment, Crysania was silent and he looked at her. Her face showed an expression that was a mix of sadness and awe. She looked up at him, and said, “I don’t believe it, but yet I do.”
“What?” he asked irritably.
“I now know why you challenged the Gods,” she said. “It’s because your blood is called by them, is from them. Raistlin... only a demi-god can wear that ring and a God call upon its power. You not only wear it, but call upon it, and it you. Your ambition was naught but a call to go home.”
He lay back and stared at the ceiling, “All my life, I never felt like I belonged. And it was because I never did... Sweet Lunitari... what I wanted before I already had the entire time...”
For a long moment they were both silent, Crysania staring into the fire and Raistlin at the ceiling. Then she broke it, “The Gods never gave me my sight back, you did.”
“Heh?” he looked at her in confusion.
“None of the Gods knew we were there when I regained my sight, Raistlin. Only you did,” she pointed out. “Whether or not you know you did it, but you did.”
He was silent, “I did want you to have your sight back. I don’t remember wishing it, but I know I wanted you to have it back. I wanted you to see what I saw when we were in the Dome of Creation...”
“And then I did,” she pointed out smiling and then she grasped his hand.
Raistlin allowed himself to lay there with her company. It didn’t make the huge sleeping chamber seem so empty.
A third party watched and smiled as she blinked back tears. She had been trying for years to get them to see reason and that if they got past their ambitions that they were a perfect set. But he always somewhat ignored her.
Ektatrina sighed and retreated further into the ethers that were her home within the Staff of Magius. It took a bit of energy she had a feeling she could not spare to scry on her wielder if he was a good distance away. A presence made itself known and she turned to her Goddess with a small bow, “Lady Lunitari, I have not seen you in awhile.”
“Nor I you, Ektatrina,” said the Goddess of Red Magic. “I have a task for you, but it will not be easy.”
“Name your task, Lady,” answered Ektatrina.
“When the time comes, you will know when it is time for this task I give you,” said Lunitari. “Chaos walks the land, but as your wielder is a Fragment, I am sure you already know that.”
Ektatrina nodded her knowledge of it. “Yes, I do. And it worries me. He has dreams... I do not like how these dreams tend to end.”
Lunitari sighed, “It cannot be helped if creation itself is to survive. Which leads me to my reason for coming. He will need support, Ektatrina. I know he is frightened of what he truly is capable of, and he will need to call on it for all of us to survive. I need you to support him, reassure the part of him that knows what it must do.”
“I shall do so, my Lady,” Ektatrina bowed and the presence of the Goddess was gone. “For all our sakes, I shall do so...”
* * *
Gilthanas finally pulled the door open and stalked down the corridor. He was determined to get an answer out of the wizards of the Conclave. Tanin, Sturm, and Juniper followed. When they entered the main chambers, they all saw Dalamar standing just behind Raistlin and Crysania. Tanin and Sturm breathed a sigh of relief.
Dunbar then creased his brows, “And why should we believe this, Raistlin?”
“Have you not felt it when you cast magic?” asked Raistlin. “As if the power is almost out of reach, the paths of power muddied? The Gods themselves fight for their very lives, and if we do not put aside the petty bickering soon it won’t matter as there will be nothing to bicker over!”
Tanin felt the Staff tingle in his hands, and for a moment, he saw Raistlin turn and look his way. A short gesture was all it took for the two nephews to side with him, and Tanin handed Raistlin the Staff of the Magius back. Gilthanas, although siding with Raistlin, took in the black robes he was wearing and stood a bit farther away than the Majere’s were. The kender took it all in and stood with them too. She was far more interested in the journeys the three Majeres would be taking than staying in a boring Tower.
Dalamar walked forward and said, as if answering an unasked question, “I believe him.”
Even more surprising was when he stood just behind Raistlin in a measure of support. Ladonna stood and her voice boomed, “Are you all insane? Lady Crysania, you of all of them should know better!”
“I do know better,” answered Crysania. “I have seen what he is truly capable of, and what we face. I also was there when the Gods met and discussed the situation in the Dome of Creation. Raistlin Majere speaks the bare and unadulterated truth. This is not about him anymore, it is about all Krynn and beyond.”
The Conclave was silent, as if they were mulling over this and Dalamar held up his hands, “I know it is hard to believe. When I heard it, I too was skeptical. But it is true.”
He held up the letter from the Protector of the Irda, “And I have proof.”
* * *
Hours later after much debate, Raistlin wearily allowed Tanin and Dalamar to support him as he was led to a suite prepared for visiting archmagi. Sitting in a chair, Raistlin turned his attention to the fireplace although it was unlit. The weather had grown far too warm for fires to be lit and even he had taken off his cloak and heavy robes in favor of a lighter long black tunic and pants. Dalamar then left as a vote was being called again to see to Raistlin’s status as a renegade.
Tanin paced while his Uncle stared, he supposed after being bored of staring into a cold hearth, out the window and into the forest beyond. After an hour, a knock sounded at the door. Sturm answered it and they looked at the door to see Dunbar flanked by Dalamar and Jenna.
Raistlin motioned with a short curt nod for them to enter. The three heads of the orders walked in and Sturm closed the door. Dunbar put a bag on a table in the room within easy sight of Raistlin and his two Solamnic nephews. “We thought you may want to see the votes tallied, the results counted, with your own eyes,” said Dunbar, as he explained. “Black is your condemnation as a renegade, white is your acceptance back into the Order.”
Nodding once, Raistlin watched Dunbar open the bag of stones. “There are twenty one stones,” said Dalamar. “One for each voting member of the Conclave.”
“Only senior members are voting members,” explained Jenna to Tanin and Sturm. “There are far more than only twenty one wizards– seven for each order, Red, White, and Black.”
“They understand this,” stated Raistlin coldly. “They have had two... nearly two... wizards in their family. Get on with it.”
Dunbar started to pull out the stones and Tanin counted as he did so, seeing the stones put into two piles. When the stones were all out, a small smile lit on the three leading members of the Conclave. “The count is nine black, twelve white,” counted Dunbar. “Well, I suppose congratulations is in order. Now, are you still a Black Robe?”
Raistlin thought for a moment, “What else would I be? White?”
There was a small sigh from Jenna, but then he said even more quietly, “No, my robes... they are not black. I don’t know... actually... I know they are not white. But I don’t think I completely fall into either red or black.”
“You said you serve the Greater Balance,” pointed out Jenna. “Perhaps you can serve that as red. Black would care little...”
“The Greater Balance cares little for good or evil, all that matters is the balance of Law and Chaos,” answered Raistlin evenly as he looked up at her, then sighed. “But perhaps you are right. I know I do not feel right in these anymore.”
Dunbar nodded, “You do not have to choose right now. I would suggest soon, though. I shall give you a sabbatical of a year... if we are all still around in a year... to decide. But you cannot push the decision off any longer than that, Raistlin.”
“I think that will be all I need,” Raistlin’s voice was still low and regretful, and Dunbar picked up on it.
“What is it, Majere?” he asked. “We all have noticed this regret hanging over you.”
Again, Raistlin looked up at the three Conclave wizards, “I should not be here. It should be Palin, not me. I... he...”
Raistlin shook his head as he gave up explaining and settled for an even quieter, “This is not right.”
Dunbar blinked, and quietly said, “You may not be of the Order of Black Robes, Raistlin, but as the color black is also of mourning, that seems to be your color. A year, Raistlin.”
With that the Head of the Order of White Robes left the room. Jenna and Dalamar stayed. Dalamar walked over to his Shalafi’s chair and knelt down, “Shalafi?”
“Yes?”
“The Knights of the Thorn, they have been taking many of our Order,” stated Dalamar, and catching Raistlin’s lifted brow. “I say ‘our’ because I go on the assumption that you are still of the Black Robes because that is the last confirmed Order you are member of. As I was saying, the Knights of Takhisis have attracted many of our Order away.”
Raistlin trained his eyes on Dalamar, “Yes, I know. I had a run in with Lillith.”
Dalamar lifted a brow, then his expression darkened, “Ladonna’s apprentice.”
“Interesting,” said Raistlin. “I had to kill her in the end, but I did come out of the encounter with some interesting information about the Thorn Knights.”
For a moment, he saw that Dalamar and Jenna simply stared at him in open mouth shock, then they both recovered to listen to what Raistlin had to tell them.
* * *
Caramon leaned on the bar as the last of the customers left for the night, except for those staying the night. He sighed as there was little in the way of business with the way the Knights of Takhisis had taken over. As it was, he was rather lucky to still have a business as the other tavern, the Trough, had been razed by the Dark Knights as a place of ‘lack of control and of lawlessness.’
The door opened and a Dark Knight, the one left in charge of the town, came in, “Caramon, how was business tonight?”
The question was an honest one, and held honest concern. If there was one thing Caramon had to admit, the Dark Knights were a decent sort of evil. Drunken brawling was at an all time low which meant damage done was also at an all time low. The Knights had a simple way of dealing with it: Break the law and die.
Caramon shrugged, “The same, but slowly recovering. I have less damage than I usually do, thanks to your Knights.”
The Dark Knight, named Sir Devon, nodded in sympathy, “That’s good to hear. You run a tight ship, Master Majere, that’s why we keep you open. And we hope to keep damage to a minimum, actually, we would prefer to hear that there is no damage at all. Damage means someone has broken the law...”
“... And are to be punished,” finished Caramon, a wan smile on his face. “Although, I must admit, Sir Devon, I miss my old friends that did come around, I do see that there is less brawls, and although it may not make me popular, I am... grateful for that.”
Sir Devon laughed, “And they say your brother was the sly one. You have a knack for diplomacy, Caramon. That’s why I came here tonight.”
Caramon lifted a brow in vague interest although something inside his gut twisted at having to be so accepting of it all just to make sure his family stayed alive. If it had been just him, or even just him and Tika, he would have openly rebelled. But he could not for fear of his little girls or of his sons, where ever they may be. Sir Devon said, “The town needs a mayor since the last was a Solamnic and is now in custody.”
Oh, why do I not like where this is leading, thought Caramon. “Oh?”
“Yes, and you are a very respected man by both the populace, but also by us, and everyone else with honor since you are an honorable man,” Sir Devon said. “That is why we would like you to take that position.”
“Can I refuse and not find myself at the bottom of a well,” Caramon was kind of surprised at his own answer... it sounded far too much like his brother, it even held the same sharp tone. Wow, he’s rubbing off on me...
But, thankfully, Sir Devon thought he was making a joke and laughed heartily. Or, at least, he took it that way even if he didn’t think it was a joke. “Very funny,” Sir Devon grew serious. “You can refuse, if you wish, but I don’t think you will. It would be a shame to have to find someone else to run the Inn. Have a good night, Master Majere.”
With that Sir Devon left, and Caramon closed the door softly behind him for if he hadn’t he would have slammed the door into the next tree. He went to the bar and began to clean it with a fervor that would have told those watching that he was extremely upset. Time passed and it grew dark. He was about to head to bed when the knock sounded at the side door. Caramon went to it and asked, “Who’s there?”
“A late traveler,” came the familiar voice, and Caramon’s heart lurched as he pulled open the door to pull in his two sons and his brother.
He closed the door behind them and hugged the three of them in relief. “By the Gods, you three cause more letters of ‘We’re sorry, they went missing’ than any other Knight I’ve ever seen!” he whispered, then noted the black robes his brother was wearing. “I take it there’s no point in hiding it anymore, Raist?”
Raistlin shook his head, auburn hair loose on his shoulders, staff just ever so slightly leaning on his shoulder as he leaned on it, although not with all his weight. “We were almost caught twice,” said Tanin. “If not for Uncle Raistlin’s magic.”
“Simple glamours so that we appear not to be a wizard and two Solamnic Knights,” assured Raistlin as Caramon looked at him questioningly, then Raistlin told the two boys. “Go rest up. We cannot stay long.”
Tanin and Sturm hugged their father once more for good night before climbing the stairs to their own bedrooms. Raistlin and Caramon watched for a time, then Caramon motioned his brother to the bar where he boiled water for Raistlin’s tea. Once the tea was made, and Raistlin was sipping it casually, Caramon asked, “What happened after Kalaman? I hear too many conflicting reports.”
“Too much happened after Kalaman,” said Raistlin. “I destroyed their supply line, but that was not enough to stop the Dark Knights. But the Dark Knights are the least of our problems, and if possible, we shall have to put aside our differences of good or evil and all work together if we are to survive.”
Caramon leaned back at this, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Chaos, Father of All and Nothing, walks Krynn with the intent of destroying it,” Raistlin saw the horror on Caramon’s face as, once many years ago, Marion had explained the general purpose to the mission of protecting the Blue Star. “Yes, Chaos. We all either band together for the coming battle or we all perish.”
“Holy Paladine,” swore Caramon. “I can help. Ironically, before you got here, I was offered the position of mayor of Solace by the Dark Knights. Perhaps as mayor I can organize the townsfolk into an underground militia... although I always thought I would do so in rebellion, not cooperation of the Dark Knights...”
Raistlin smiled slightly, “Be careful. I would hate to learn that you went missing by falling into a dry well...”
“I will be, Raist,” promised Caramon, then looked at the drawn look to his brother. “You look like you could sleep a week. Unless I miss my guess, this is hardest on you as you guard the Balance.”
Raistlin nodded, “It calls for many... sacrifices.”
The two talked for many, many hours as they were finally able to catch up and reminisce about times when they had been happier, or as close as they had ever got to it. When the sun began to come up, and Raistlin was on his fifth cup of his tea and Caramon glass of water, Tika came down the stairs to begin work in the kitchen.
She stopped dead upon seeing the twins deep in conversation although Raistlin looked like he was about to fall asleep with his arm on the counter holding up his head judging by the way he was ever so slowly leaning. Not that Caramon was much better, but her husband naturally had the better stamina. She stood there for a good five minutes not wanting to break the tableau she had walked in on. If someone were to paint a picture, she thought. I would hope that this be the moment they caught...
As much as she didn’t really like Raistlin as it was in her opinion that it was his fault that Caramon had turned into the drunk he had been during the early years of their marriage, this was still the most beautiful scene she had seen in years. Finally, Raistlin looked over and straightened up slightly while Caramon turned his head to see his wife standing there. “How long have you been there?” he asked.
“Long enough to see that you talked yourselves into exhaustion,” she pointed out. “Look at your brother, he’s all but falling asleep on that barstool.”
Raistlin stood a bit unsteadily and yawned. Once he had recovered and stretched the kinks from his back, he said, “She is right, and magic rests easier in a rested mind. I would say good night but it isn’t night anymore.”
Caramon laughed easily, and Tika, seeing that Raistlin was joking, did as well. She reached out a hand and brushed his robe as he walked by her, stopping him on the stairs. Her hand still on his arm, she whispered, “Sleep well, Raist.”
He smiled, a true smile she had never really got the chance to see. She had to admit it lit up his so very pale blue grey eyes and she saw the slight lines around his eyes, “Thank you, Tika. Have a good day...”
With that he was up the stairs and in Palin’s old room. For a moment she stared up at where he had gone before she turned back to her work. As she did she saw that Caramon was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, almost snoring. “You lout,” she slapped his arm and he woke with a start. “That’s what a bed is for! Now get up there and sleep.”
She shook her head as she watched him leave to do so, then Tika turned to her days work and to greet any customers.
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Summer of Flame