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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
Dalamar's joke courtesy of Dragonlance Underground- Krynnish Light bulb Jokes.
Crepuscule
Chapter 15- Of Pain.
When your trees start to sway
And the wind makes them move
I can tell that
You don't know
-Lost Prophets, Sway
As much as Dalamar appreciated Raistlin tricking the elves into taking them into the wood, he was starting to regret it too.
And how could it be different, when every step drove a emotional dagger deeper into the unhealed wounds of his exile? It was too familiar, this place, and it hurt in ways that even Raistlin would never understand.
It was not the place itself, but the underlying feeling of it, reminding him of the connection he had lost. Before, it had been possible to disregard it. In other lands, he could ignore the pain until he forgot it even hurt. Until the pain was banished to dreams and he'd covered it with layers of ice and steel and he could forget it even existed.
And it still hurt, he knew that now. It hurt a lot.
All elves had a deep connection to their land, and exile had broken it. Dalamar had shut himself off to it when he had been exiled, it had hurt too much to cope with, then or now, so he had done his best to forget it, until he could barely remember what it felt like. He remembered now, just as he remembered exactly why most elves preferred death to exile.
He'd drawn his hood down over his face, and slid his hands into the sleeves of his robe. A clear message that he wanted to be left alone.
Raistlin had clearly understood, he had fallen into step behind the Dark elf but hadn't spoken since they'd started walking.
No one had approached him, the most he'd received had been a few ugly looks from the elves, who were obviously furious at having to break the long held taboo of banishment.
Dalamar felt the cold knotting of anger inside him, and felt himself longing to lash out. How dare they look at him like this? How dare they drag him through this, re-open wounds he had spent years in closing?
He snarled at one of the guides, who took a step back and turned away quickly.
They were taken to an open glade where the rest of the caravan's prisoners were milling around. One of the elves was trying to retain order and ordering the refugees to go south.
Goldmoon took objection to this treatment, snarling at the elf, who did not back down. It was only when Gilthanas spoke to him that the elflord calmed down. Apparently the newcomer was Gilthanas's brother, Porthios.
Well, whoever he was, the elflord was not pleased to see them, even less pleased at the sight of Tanis, and furious at the sight of Dalamar. Porthios took a step forward when he saw the Dark elf, his hand going to his sword, and it was only Gilthanas' intervention that prevented the situation for escalating into bloodshed.
Even after his brother had explained, the elf lord’s eyes were still narrowed with hate and his hand remained on the hilt of his sword.
Dalamar bared his teeth, reaching for his dagger. If that fool thought him an easy target, he'd soon learn his error.
Porthios turned away first, glaring at Gilthanas, before stalking away, motioning the others to follow. At his motion, two dozen elven warriors stepped out of the trees and shepherded them forwards. One particularly angry or daring elf made to jab at Dalamar with his spear.
He side-stepped the blow and snarled at the fool; "Do not touch me."
Porthios turned, speaking to Dalamar for the first time, "You are in no position to make demands, Dark elf."
Dalamar bit back the remark he desperately wanted to make. As in Silvanesti, as in Darken Wood, he had no say here. He would have to do as commanded because they would be looking for an excuse to kill him. He was surrounded by enemies and would do well to not forget that fact.
He felt a light touch on his arm, he turned and met Raistlin's eyes. The red robed mage motioned him to lag back with him.
Dalamar pulled away, he didn't want to talk. He felt cold and angry and knew Raistlin would never understand what he was feeling. Nor would he want him to. His attitude wasn't fair on the young mage, but at this moment, Dalamar couldn't stand anyone's
company.
Raistlin seemed to understand. He tightened his grip on Dalamar's arm briefly, offering comfort, then drew back.
/When you want to talk, I'll be here./
Dalamar sighed, a little of the tension and pain dispelled by the subtle show of support.
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The journey was not one Dalamar would be anxious to repeat. It passed in silence and even without the dark mutterings and the constant threat of his guides becoming his executioners, it was truly painful.
He had never been inside Qualinesti before, the closest he had come was to the edges of the elven forest. And that only twice, once while coming from Tarsis, where he had met Raistlin for the first time, and once while the two of them had been travelling to the Tower of High Sorcery.
So why was it, when they arrived at the edge of a high cliff overlooking the city of Qualinost, that Dalamar felt as though someone had twisted a knife into his heart?
It was not that the city resembled Silvanost, they were truly different places. But the differences recalled his old home every bit as well as the similarities. Everything there reminding him of a place he would never see again, the very beauty of the city scraping on his raw nerves like sandpaper.
It was a relief when Gilthanas led them out of sight of Qualinost, into a small grove of trees. They were to stop here for a while, he informed them before walking over to stand with his brother.
Dalamar slid to the ground, only now realising how tired he was. They had been given little food in the slave caravans, and the walk had drained him of what little energy he had.
Raistlin sat beside him, he didn't talk, but simply stayed close, giving what comfort he could, and for that Dalamar was thankful. Bad enough to be suffering through this, he found it hard to imagine how hard it would be alone.
"Dalamar-" Raistlin started.
The Dark elf pulled away, he didn't want to talk. "No."
The young mage stiffened at the abrupt rebuff, golden eyes closing for a moment before he nodded his acceptance and turned away.
Some part of Dalamar was felt gratified at Raistlin's hurt reaction, after their argument in the slave caravans, it served him right. The Dark elf knew that the thought was a lie, that he was simply hurting and angry and lashing out at anyone who came near him, but despite this he couldn't banish the emotion.
Over to one side, Gilthanas and Tanis had been talking, and now the elflord turned back to the group and asked them to follow him.
Reluctantly, Dalamar got to his feet. Bitterly he wondered if they might have been better off dodging draconians on the road.
Again he walked in silence, unable to dredge up enough curiosity to eavesdrop the continuing conversation between Gilthanas and Half-elven. The two were walking close together, whispering in elven.
Brushing them both out of his mind, and wishing he could get rid of his emotions so easily, Dalamar looked around. They were back in sight of the city, and again Dalamar felt the deep tugging pain inside him, a reminder of the connection he had once had and had lost. So close to the feeling of his old home to taunt him with memories, but different enough to make it impossible to soothe the old pain.
But perhaps that was for the best. It would be far worse to feel the connection with the land again, and to know that he would only lose it again. Banishment all over again.
He was so lost in his thoughts that when Tanis stopped, Dalamar walked straight into his back.
Half-human didn't notice. "Leaving Qualinesti?" He was shocked enough to switch to common.
Dalamar stared. Gilthanas sent him a black look and nodded to Tanis.
"You can't mean it!" Tanis had switched back to elven, "Leaving Qualinesti! Why? Surely things aren't so bad-"
"They are worse," Gilthanas said shortly, "And if you don't tell that pet Dark elf of yours to stop eavesdropping, we will make sure he never tells anyone about this- or anything else- again."
Half-elven spun around, clearly he hadn't notice Dalamar and was not pleased to see him now. Dalamar gave them both a death-head grin and a mocking bow before stepping away.
So they thought him a spy? So be it, the first one to challenge him would bear the brunt of all the rage, pain and loss that he been heaped on him since he'd set foot in this place. He would be all to happy to share it.
It was true that the elves were leaving Qualinesti, although it was not immediately obvious and Dalamar had shut off that part of himself for so long that it was hard to read the signs. To read them in the faces of those passing or hear of it in the trees.
The trees were different here, and he had almost forgotten how to listen to them. But there was no mistaking the whispers of loss. The tension in the beautiful city was so palpable that he was almost expecting Caramon to have noticed. The shared fear and pain in the place was enough to send cold shivers up his spine.
Dalamar suddenly realised what he was doing and forced himself to focus. What was it to him what happened here? He reminded himself. This was not Silvanesti, but even if it was, what did it change?
This was not his place, had never been, even before he had been banished. Yes, he missed it, but to open himself to the feelings of the place was only to invite more pain when he was forced to leave.
The knot inside him seemed to loosen a little at the realisation and he turned to look at their guides. Elves all, they belonged to this place as he didn't, and there wasn't one of them that wouldn't destroy him given half a chance. Despite the beauty of this place and the memories it dredged up, Qualinost was no less dangerous than Darken Wood, and he would do well to remember that.
Dalamar closed his eyes, and, like in Darken Wood, pulled himself together, the feeling of danger clearing his mind. It still hurt to be here, but the pain no longer clouded his thoughts.
Even so, it was hard to fight down the stab inside him when he saw the Tower of the Sun. like the rest of Qualinesti, it was at once similar and different to the counterpart he remember, the Tower of the Stars in Silvanesti.
Still, he fought down the pain, forcing himself to look though the haze of hindsight and nostalgia. He would have never been able to enter the Tower of the Stars the way he was entering it's Qualinost counterpart, Dalamar knew. He had been of house Servitor, and if he was ever allowed into the place, it was to work in the kitchens. His life had been far from ideal, and to pretend it had been was to lie to himself. He had far too many real pains to add false ones to it.
It was cool inside as they were led to a small alcove, and even that insignificant room was decorated and carved into a thing of beauty. Basins and pitchers of water were placed there and again Dalamar was reminded of Darken Wood, they had ignored his presence again.
Somehow, the sheer pettiness made the pain inside him easier to bear. In reminding him of Darken Wood, it made everything less personal, and it made him remember, once again, the bad things of his old life.
He shared Raistlin's basin, shooting the younger mage an apologetic look while he washed his hands. He had taken his pain out on his lover earlier, when it was hardly the human mage's fault.
Raistlin smiled, hands slipping into the water to touch the Dark elf's, fingers linking.
Dalamar was surprised to feel his lips twitching into a wry smile, and felt Raistlin kiss the side of his face lightly.
Here too was something he had never had in Silvanesti.
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He had just washed away the dust from his throat, when Porthios appeared and ordered them to follow him.
Dalamar had never been into a Speaker's chamber. Even in Silvanesti he had been banned from entering that of the Speaker of the Stars. So he was just as awestruck as the rest of the companions. The chamber seemed immense, and ornately decorated, and the sight of such drew out the pain again.
The place was an image of everything Dalamar had missed in his exile. The sheer beauty was enough to make the Dark elf turn away, it hurt too much. To try and distance himself, he looked up at the ceiling.
That too had been decorated, inlayed with a mosaic that mirrored the sky. Half of the dome was given to the day, blue sky and golden sun, while the other was to the night, to the stars and the two moons.
Then Dalamar gave a thin smile. A few tiles had fallen out in the night mosaic, and the hole resembled nothing less than the moon of his patron, Nuitari.
The sight gave him strength, strength enough to lift his eyes and meet those of the Heads of Households. The elves looked disgruntled at having to accommodate the likes of humans and dwarves, although they limited themselves to forbidding looks. Sturm had his fair share of shocked expressions, and there were more than a few mutters at the sight of Raistlin in his red robes.
They had no such restraint at the sight of Dalamar, the chamber rang with outraged hisses and one elf actually stepped forward, looking at the Dark elf with loathing. "Speaker!" he demanded, looking over at an older elf- presumably the Speaker- dressed in yellow robes, "I demand to know the reason for this outrage. To allow a Dark elf within our lands! And at this time of war!"
"Enough, Rashas." The Speaker commanded, although his eyes lingered on Dalamar, and he looked no more pleased than anyone else at the sight of him. "There will be time enough after this. They are going nowhere."
The elf subsided, muttering and shooting dark looks at everyone.
Raistlin came to stand beside Dalamar, clearly he thought that the response would hurt his lover, but in truth, if anything it made it easier to bear. It would have been far worse for Dalamar had the elves been cordial, as it was, it would make in much easier to leave this place. In fact, he already wanted to.
The human mage took Dalamar's hand and the Dark elf sent him a quick look, reassuring him that he would be fine.
It wasn't this so much as the suspicious mutterings of those close enough to see them
hold hands that prompted Dalamar to do what he did next. He kissed Raistlin lightly on the cheek, then looked out of the corner of his eye of watch the reaction.
He spotted the outspoken elf first, and had to hide a smile. Dalamar had never seen anyone turn quite that shade of puce before.
Deciding he had pushed his luck enough for one day, the two mages stepped back away from the scrutiny of the crowd and listened to Gilthanas and Porthios as they spoke to their father.
It was little more than they already knew. Although the Speaker mentioned a raid on Pax Tharkas, and the two mages shared a quick look, so Pax Tharkas, symbol of peace, had been dragged into this war too?
Gilthanas continued, describing how his group had fallen foul of a draconian patrol and how he had been left for dead. Gasps of shock rose as he portrayed Solace's destruction, and how his men had been executed, burnt to ashes by the breath of a red dragon. The dragon had a rider, the elf continued, a cleric of the Dark Queen by the name of Verminaad.
Dalamar remembered the missing constellations and nodded slightly to himself, it made sense. And Verminaad, hadn't the black dragon of Xak Tsaroth mentioned Verminaad? So the man had not only black, but also red dragons at his command. So, Goldmoon was not the only one with the powers of the old Gods.
And it was that power that Gilthanas was now recalling, telling them all how she had healed Theros Ironfeld.
The Speaker's face registered nothing but disbelief at that proclamation, and he commanded Goldmoon to step forward. At the sight of the medallion of Mishakal, he became enraged, "Blasphemy!" The Speaker lunged forward to rip the medallion from the Plainswoman's throat.
There was a flare of blue light and the Speaker was thrown back. Dalamar took a step back as swords were drawn, reaching for his pouch of spell components, beside him, Raistlin did the same, the two mages readying themselves for the fight.
"Stop this nonsense!" The Dark elf looked around and stared at the sight of Fizban. The mad old magician strolled up to the rostrum, pushing past the guards without a second thought.
Dalamar was starting to understand why Raistlin was so suspicious of the old mage, none of the elves made a move to stop him, although the Dark elf could see in their eyes that they certainly wanted to. Still, no one opposed Fizban as he reached the Speaker and helped him to his feet, muttering inanely to himself and waving his hat all over the place.
Still, despite this eccentric behaviour, the result was unmistakable, the Speaker blinked, and turned back to Goldmoon, a vague expression on his face as he apologised, and let her tell her story.
Yes, there was definitely something strange about the white robe, Dalamar thought, staring at the Speaker's dreamy expression and the plainswoman finished her narration.
An expression which vanished however, when the Speaker's eyes locked on Dalamar. He looked over at his son, grim faced, "You have not explained why, in this time of such danger, you have broken our laws and brought a Dark elf into our midst. To do such a thing even in a time of peace..."
"His companions have vouched for his behaviour," Gilthanas answered, shortly, "He was locked in the slave cages with the rest, and was the one who got us out of there in the first place. The others would not have come with us without him."
"But still..." He looked back at Dalamar, "You! You were from Silvanesti, were you not?"
Dalamar stepped forward, sending Raistlin a short look telling him to stay put, and gave the Speaker a bow that was just this side of mocking, "I'm sure they would deny it if you asked them."
One of the guards cracked him across the back with the butt of his spear, and Dalamar was forcibly reminded of Darken Wood again as the wind was knocked out of him. Raistlin helped him back up, glaring daggers at the guards before looking down at Dalamar, warning him to hold his tongue.
"Answer the question."
"Yes." Dalamar forced out, his back was screaming and he couldn't stand up straight, he stared malevolently at the Speaker through narrowed eyes.
The Speaker nodded, "The Silvanesti had let in dragonarmy emissaries."
"What?" Anger was swept away by sheer shock, the very idea seemed ridiculous. The people who had exiled him for worshiping a deity of darkness, welcome those who followed the self-same gods? Who not only followed such Gods, but killed in their name? It boggled the mind.
But then again, perhaps it wasn't all that surprising, if the dragonarmies had offered to leave them alone... Yes, those terms would have seemed very agreeable to his old people.
"We will have him watched," Gilthanas was saying, "Any attempt to betray us-" His glare told Dalamar exactly what he was being threatened with. Clearly the elven love of life didn't extend /that/ far.
There was a long pause, Dalamar took the opportunity to straighten up, ignoring the stabs of pain in his spine and chest.
Finally the Speaker addressed them, "I must consider this and what it means to us. But you are exhausted. My daughter, Laurana, will guide you to a place where you can forget your fears" -Dalamar sneered,- "We will hold a banquet in your honour tonight, for you bring us hope." He looked at Goldmoon for long moments before continuing; "May the peace of the true Gods go with you."
Dalamar blinked at the sight of the elfmaiden that came to stand beside her father, it had been a long time since he'd seen a woman that beautiful, not since he had seen princess Alhana Starbreeze. He wasn't the only one staring, Caramon's mouth was even hanging open. The woman- Laurana- was slender and striking, with the longest hair Dalamar had yet seen-
He was brought back to himself with a firm slap from a rather irate looking Raistlin, who was the only one not looking impressed. Dalamar knew he would see her as she was, his curse did not affect elves- thank Nuitari-, but also knew that his lover had never had any interest whatsoever in women, and even less after Amberyl.
The twisted memory was enough to shake any pleasure out of the situation, and he sent his lover an apologetic look, rubbing the side of his face where he had been hit.
Tasslehoff was giggling shamelessly at their little interaction, but other barely paid the two mages any attention. Dalamar was particularly interested with the way Tanis was looking at the elfmaid, it was so much like, yet unlike, the way he himself looked at Raistlin.
He and his lover shared a glance, and Dalamar rolled his eyes, honestly, the half-human got so uptight about /their/ relationship, while he himself was mooning after someone who was practically his sister. Dalamar wondered if he called out Laurana's name while with Kitiara. Probably.
All the same, she paid Tanis little attention save a sharp look, speaking to all of them, "I welcome you to Qualinost, honoured guests"- Dalamar rubbed his aching back and snorted- "Please follow me. The way is not far, and there is food and drink at the end."
She moved past them, pausing only to look up at Tanis before leading them out of the chamber.
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As unpleasant as the meeting with the Speaker had been, it had helped Dalamar gather his thoughts. He now wanted to leave Qualinesti as soon as possible. Unfortunately this wasn't actually possible, since the Dark elf expected that any attempt to sneak away would be interpreted as an act of betrayal.
In fact, the only thing that made this place any better than Darken Wood, was the fact that no one here seemed interested in hurting Raistlin.
They had been led to a grove of trees in the centre of the city, food had been brought, and they had been left to their own devices.
Dalamar had washed off the filth of the last few day in a small brook that ran though the trees, and had sat down under one of the aspen trees, brooding.
Raistlin sat down next to him, one hand on the Dark elf's. "How are you feeling?"
Dalamar looked up, to where Laurana was talking with Flint. "Better."
"I had feared-"
The black robed mage leant forwards and nuzzled Raistlin's hair. "I know."
"The way they treated you-"
Dalamar laughed softly, "Worse if they had been kind to me. As it is, it just reminded me of what I hated when I lived in Silvanesti and made me want to leave all the sooner."
Raistlin smiled and nodded, "Do you believe he told you the truth? About Silvanesti?"
Dalamar's smile grew twisted, "Probably, if the dragonarmies offered to leave them alone. My old people never cared much for what happened outside their borders."
"So they think of the dragonarmies as someone else's problem, and leave them to it?"
"There's an old joke in Tarsis," Dalamar murmured, "How many Silvanesti does it take to change a lamp wick?"
Raistlin thought it over, then shrugged.
"None. The humans burnt it out, let them fix it." Dalamar looked up, smiling thinly. "Sums it up, really."
The younger mage laughed softly.
Dalamar looked up suddenly, spotting Laurana walking towards them. He stared at her coldly. "Yes, what do you want?"
Unlike the other elves, the elfmaid didn't look angry at the sight of him, instead she looked frightened. Probably she had been told so many horror stories about Dark elves that she couldn't even look him in the face.
"I thought you might be hungry." She offered a basket to them. The smell of freshly baked bread made Dalamar's mouth water, it had been far too long since he'd eaten.
Still he hesitated, somehow he doubted that this was the only reason she had come here, but finally, when no terms seemed to be forthcoming, he reached out and took the basket. "Thank you."
Laurana backed away, as if afraid Dalamar would attack her when her back was turned.
The two mages looked at each other. Raistlin shrugged, "She was told to play the gracious hostess, clearly she thought that included you."
The Dark elf looked back at Laurana, then shrugged. If the elfmaid wanted to treat him decently, he wouldn't be one to argue. Besides, the bread looked as though it would taste every bit as pleasant as it looked.
The they shared the food there and then, sitting under the trees. Raistlin occasionally dipping the bread in some water to make it easier to eat. The time passed in comfortable silence, enjoying the good food and even better company.
Dalamar scooted back, pushing the half-empty basket away. They had both eaten their fill and it would be hours before they were called. The clearing was quiet, the others either absent or asleep.
Really, it had been far too long since they'd had this kind of privacy. And while they couldn't indulge themselves the way Dalamar knew he would certainly like to, it would be enough just to be together like this.
He lent back against a tree, then reached out and grabbed Raistlin around the waist, pulling the startled mage into his lap.
Besides, there was always tonight.
Raistlin turned in Dalamar's arms and kissed him, hands on his shoulders. The Dark elf kissed back, happily, feeling the weight of the last few days- The slave caravan, Raistlin's illness and their subsequent argument, the pain of being in elven lands- slip away.
They were safe, they were whole, and they were together. And this, Dalamar realised, was something he would never, ever have had if he had stayed in Silvanesti.
He would never have had moments like this, relishing the slow build up of desire and delighting in each other.
Never would have been able to share so many moments together, the simple, loving companionship that Dalamar had come to rely on and treasure.
Never would have fallen in love with this most brilliant, incredible person.
And right now, with his hands wound around Raistlin's neck and the young mage's staring to slide under his robes, Dalamar decided that if he ever saw Alhana Starbreeze again, he would thank her.

Skull Bearer.
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