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Nocturnale	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1934 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
Nocturnale
Chapter Fourteen- To Betray
I tell the stories in your sleep,
and spell the words you cannot find,
I am your forsaken mind.
Revelations, Angels and Agony
It was a long three days.
They didn't dare leave the inn, only leaving their rooms for meals. The others followed their example, much to the mages' surprise. They hadn't related where Tanis was to them, so they simply thought him missing. Caramon had made a few tentative suggestions to go out and look for their missing friend, but had been talked out of it by Tika. If Tanis had been gone this long, he had almost undoubtedly fallen into enemy hands. Raistlin had suppressed a snort. Enemy /arms/ more like.
It had been nerve-racking, constantly on edge, half-expecting every patrol that passed the inn to break in and arrest them. But all had passed without incident; barring the time three draconians had snuck away from their platoon and paid the inn a visit, an occurrence that had nearly given their presence away. It had only been the sight of the three monsters getting messily drunk that had kept them from attacking.
But finally, it was the night before they were to sail. Tanis still hadn't appeared and Raistlin was starting to wonder if it might be just a little too long now. Surely even Kitiara couldn't stay in bed that long; she was a Dragon Highlord after all. Raistlin reconsidered that last statement and mentally amended it, yes, Kit /would/ do that. But still, it would be unlike his sister not to try and gain some information while Tanis was with her; it had been more than five years since they met- not counting the Nightmare- and surely she would be interested to know where her lover had been. What happened then would matter on how good a liar Half-elven was.
He could imagine it all too well; the two would have spent a few hours in bed, and Kitiara would ask a question. Innocently prying. Tanis would answer without thinking, and let something slip. He'd try and cover it up, but if there was anything Tanis was worse at than lying, it was trying to pretend he wasn't lying. Kitiara would realise the truth and then it would be down to the dungeons for a more in-depth interrogation. Raistlin wasn't stupid enough to believe his sister would let Tanis get in the way of her ambition, not this same person who had been perfectly ready to let /him/ die before he gained enough power to threaten her.
The only question, Raistlin decided, was how long it would take before Tanis told Kitiara all she wanted to know, and she dispatched an army of Draconians after them. Hopefully not before they had sailed, and then it wouldn't matter.
But then again, if Kitiara knew where they were, then she knew where they were sailing to, and she would make sure the place was crawling with Draconians by the time they arrived. Not to mention -a sickening twist- that as a Dragon Highlord, Kitiara had access to dragons which could easily follow the ship and burn it to ashes.
And wasn't it possible that Tanis had already told Kitiara everything, and instead of sending out Draconians to the inn, and risk losing an already wary prey, she simply set up an ambush at the Perechon and waited for her prey to come to her?
Raistlin shuddered, and burrowed closer to Dalamar. Either way, it would be Tarsis all over again, and he didn't know if he had enough control over the Dragon Orb to stop them getting massacred.
Raistlin glanced over at the table where the Dragon Orb lay in its enchanted bag. He hadn't touched it in three days, and had a creeping dread of touching it again. It wasn't that his last attempt had gone badly, exactly. He had discovered more of the Orb's powers, those of telepathy and teleportation. But yet....
There was Fistandantilus for one thing. The lich hadn't attacked him since he took control of the Orb, but Raistlin could feel him stirring on the edges of his mind when he had communicated with the Orb. It could have been his imagination, but his hands had grown strangely numb when he held the artefact. Although what the lich wanted, Raistlin didn't know. He had control of the Orb, didn't he?
Raistlin kept repeating those words to himself, but the truth was, he didn't know. There was something unwelcoming about it. It felt uncomfortable in his hands, as thought its very substance repelled him- or perhaps, was repelled by him. Raistlin had no idea if this was normal with the Orbs, but when he compared it with the only other artefact he knew- the Staff of Magius- he felt there was something wrong.
The Orb's attitude towards him was another worry. He had expected, having subdued it, that it would serve him. Yet when he touched it, he felt like a child being given leave to play with an adult's possession- something he didn't and would never understand. It was immensely frustrating, and Raistlin was certain the Orb was keeping secrets from him.
Perhaps Dalamar was right, Raistlin mused, starting up at the cracked ceiling. Perhaps the Orb did hold the knowledge of how he could rid himself of his unwelcome guest, and that Fistandantilus was deliberately keeping that from him. The thought that the lich could have any control over the artefact was a frightening one by itself, although since the creature hadn't tried to use it yet, Raistlin hoped that his influence- if any- was limited.
The whole situation was a mass of fearsome illusions that might just be real, and Raistlin longed to be free of them. It was like being caught in a spiral of dread, each fear feeding off the others and dragging him further and further down....
"Raistlin!"
Raistlin jerked awake, he hadn't realised he had dosed off. He didn't understand what had woken Dalamar. The room was as dark and dank as ever, the only sound that of the rising gale rattling the ill-fitting shutters.
"What?" He mouthed, knowing Dalamar would see it.
The Dark elf pressed a finger to his lips, sitting perfectly still.
Now Raistlin could hear the sound that had woken Dalamar. The heavy footsteps and clinking metal of someone wearing armour came from downstairs.
The two mages looked at each other, and scrambled out of bed. They had prepared for such an eventuality; their belongings were packed and they had slept dressed. Raistlin pulled his boots on, grabbed his staff and pack, and slipped the Dragon Orb into a pocket of his robes before following Dalamar out the door.
The armoured stranger's footsteps were coming closer to the stairs, and Raistlin ducked behind a pile of barrels that were stacked next to the stairs. He and Dalamar had gone over several methods of escaping, in fear of this very event. This one would serve nicely.
Dalamar ducked behind a corner of the corridor as the invader mounted the stairs. A scout most likely, Raistlin decided, feeling slightly relieved. It meant the rest of the troop was probably outside, but he felt better now the time had come to act. The waiting was always the worst part.
Hearing the footsteps come closer, Raistlin tightened his grip on his staff with one hand, the other reaching in a pocket to check on the Dragon Orb.
He couldn't see the figure as it mounted the stairs, there were no windows in the corridor, and unlike Dalamar, he couldn't see in the dark. Luckily, that meant that whoever was mounting the stairs couldn't see him either. Peering around one barrel, he could make out the outline of an armoured figure as it passed him, even blacker than the darkness around it. The only mercy was that it was too short to be a draconian.
Raistlin held his breath as he threaded his staff behind the figure's legs, and rapped the butt on the wooden floor.
Surprised by the sudden noise, the stranger started to turn, only to be thrown back by Dalamar as the Dark elf flew at him. The figure staggered back with a grunt, which turned into a shout when Raistlin's staff knocked his legs out from under him, and finished as a brief cry as he sailed down the stairs and struck the floor with a crash that shook the inn to its foundations.
Dalamar pulled Raistlin to his feet and they leaped for the stairs as further bangs sounded, and the inn keep, the cook, the barmaid, and the rest of the Companions raced out to see what all the fuss was about.
Raistlin was halfway down the stairs before he wondered where the Dragonarmy patrol they had expected was. A few more steps down, he puzzled why a Dragonarmy scout would have been sent out to spy on them in full armour. A few more steps went by before he realised that their invader's dragonarmour fitted him very badly, in fact, several pieces had broken off when he'd hit the ground. By the time they had reached the ground floor, they weren't even hurrying any more, and Raistlin was completely unsurprised when Dalamar kicked off the figure's helm to reveal Tanis' unconscious face.
He and Dalamar shared a look that was half exasperation, half disgust, then realised they were no longer alone. Both the inn's patrons and staff were standing in various stages of descending the stairs, looking down at them with varying expressions of shock and horror.
"Tanis," Goldmoon murmured, clapping one hand over her mouth.
"A Dragonarmy officer!" The innkeeper shrieked, pulling at his hair in terror. "You just killed a Dragonarmy officer! They'll have our heads! They'll burn the Jetties to the ground! They'll cook us and feed us to those lizard-monsters! Get out of my inn!"
"Tanis?" Tika whispered, starting down only to be beaten to it by Goldmoon. The priestess knelt down beside the unconscious Half-elf, resting one hand on his forehead, murmuring a prayer. A soft blue light bathed the Half-elf's face and he let out a groan.
"He will be fine." She sighed, getting to her feet and glowering at Dalamar witheringly. "Was that strictly necessary?"
"We thought he was from the Dragonarmies!" Dalamar snapped, "How were we to know? And shut up!" The last was directed at the still babbling innkeeper, who Tika was trying to reassure. No, the Dragonarmies were not going to burn the inn to the ground. No, they had not just witness true healing. No, the unconscious man was not an officer in the Dragonarmies. Why was he wearing a Dragonarmy uniform? Well... um...
Tanis was slowly coming around, groaning. The helmet must have stopped him from suffering significant damage, but he no doubt had a headache to put the worse hangover to shame. Goldmoon and Caramon helped him over to a chair while Tika, with a bit of help from a few steel pieces, persuaded the inn staff that there had been no disturbance and that they had really slept the whole night uninterrupted.
"What exactly happened?" Tanis rested his head on the table, only looking up when Goldmoon handed him a glass of water.
"These two lunatics," Tika sent the two mages a very nasty look, "Thought you were from the Dragonarmies and knocked you down the stairs."
"And what, pray, were we supposed to think?" Raistlin hissed. "You are gone for three nights, during which we hear no word from you, so we expect you've been captured. Then you turn up, absolutely fine, and still in the armour you-" Raistlin broke off, one hand going to his mouth as his cough struck without warning. He held onto the table for balance as the spasms shook him, tasting the blood he hacked up. He felt Dalamar rub his back soothingly with one hand, the other holding a handkerchief to his lips. Raistlin's hand closed on the elf's arm for support, his grip growing painful as the iron bars around his lungs tightened. Finally, it passed, and he relaxed his grip on the elf's arm. He drew in a ragged breath, smiling his thanks through bloodstained lips.
The others were silent, looking at Tanis thoughtfully, finally Goldmoon spoke, her voice soothing, "We are glad you are all right, my friend, but where /have/ you been? We've all been worrying about what might have happened."
Raistlin pulled up a stool next to the fireplace and stoked up the last dying embers of the fire. He pulled out a tin mug from his pack and the waterskin from Dalamar's, keeping one eye on Tanis as he made his tea.
Confronted by four enquiring faces and one accusing- Dalamar's- Tanis started to explain. He had run into the Dragon Highlord, and been captured- that was one use for the word that Raistlin had never heard before. As the Highlord had believed Tanis to be one of his officers, he had been pressed into serving. "I think Half-human means 'servicing'," Dalamar muttered, smiling grimly at Raistlin, who kept his head down to hide his own smile as he placed the mug by the embers to warm.
He looked up as Tanis finished his tale with a probably fictional account of his escape from the Dragonarmies. Most likely Tanis had skulked out of Kitiara's bed when the Highlord discovered her duties couldn't be put off any longer. But the others would never believe him if he told them. They'd believe Tanis if he told them the sky was green. Worse, Half-elven was quite deliberately deceiving them on accounts of the danger. What would happen when Kitiara returned to her bed and discovered him gone? She would probably turn the whole of Flotsam upside down in search of her errant lover- and discover them in the meantime.
Raistlin and Dalamar were silent as the others started to ask questions. How much of it was true and how much lies, only Tanis knew. The Half-elf avoided questions about the Highlord and his armies, so what little he did say about them was probably made up. An account of what he was asked to do was barely touched upon, and that was certainly fabricated. The only item of truth, as far as Raistlin could see, was when Tanis explained what the Dragonarmies were doing in Flotsam. Caramon had asked if the Dragonarmies were after them, and Tanis had replied that no, they weren't. They were searching for some human, called Berem or somesuch. Not only was this bit of information completely unlike the lies Tanis was covering himself with, but Dalamar had started slightly at the name. Obviously he knew who this was, although his face betrayed no expression.
Finally, they ran out of questions, and Tanis started to yawn and groan. Whether his exhaustion was real or feigned, Raistlin didn't know, but it fooled the others.
"I'm sorry, Tanis," Goldmoon apologised. "We've been selfish. You are cold and weary-" Raistlin snorted into his tea, earning himself another scowl from the Plainswoman- "and we've kept you up too long. We must be up early to board the ship-"
"Damn it, Goldmoon!" Tanis' voice was shockingly loud, and apparently Tanis regretted it because he closed his eyes and rubbed his head with one hand, "We won't be boarding a ship in this gale." He growled.
Raistlin swallowed a mouthful of his tea, watching the faces of the other companions. They looked stunned, and Riverwind stepped closer to comfort his wife, who was looking deeply hurt as well as shocked.
Caramon cleared his throat awkwardly, "If we can't leave tomorrow, we'll try the next day-"
Dalamar and Raistlin looked at each other. Tomorrow might well be a day too late. If the others weren't leaving, they /they/ would. Better to take their chances alone than stay with Tanis when Kitiara found him.
Tanis rested his head on his hands and sighed, "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you Goldmoon. It's been... nerve-racking... these past few days. I'm so tired I can't think straight. I'll go upstairs."
"You're room's been let out," Caramon put in, "But you can take my bed Tanis, I'll sleep on the floor."
Half-elven shook his head, "No, you-"
"Tanis," Tika said firmly, "You're hurt-" another nasty look at the perpetrators- "and you're tired. It's alright, we'll share the bed and you'll take the spare."
Tanis capitulated and nodded, and followed the others as they trooped back to their rooms. Raistlin finished his tea and packed away the mug, making a mental note to wash it later, and followed Tanis up the stairs.
"Tell me Half-elven," He whispered as he reached him, "Did you spend all your time in my sister's bed? Or was at there at least some truth in your little fiction?"
Had he hit Half-elven with a lightning bolt, the effect couldn't have been more electric. Tanis' eyes went so wide they seemed about to roll from their sockets, and his hand snatched to the pommel of his sword.
"Because if you did," Dalamar put in, standing next to Raistlin, his own hand going to his spell components, "Have the grace to admit it next time. These sheep would forgive you if you sold their souls to the Dark Queen- no need to be modest."
Half-elven was speechless, looking first at Raistlin, then at the Dark elf. "You-"
"Yes," Dalamar waved off his accusations idly, "But don't let us keep you." He nodded at Caramon and Tika who were waiting for Tanis at the top of the stairs, "You must be truly tired; three days solid! That'll take it out of anyone."
Raistlin slid an arm around the Dark elf's shoulders, and the two stepped past the thunderstruck Half-elf. "Interesting standards you have, Tanis." Raistlin whispered as they passed.
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They didn't even try to sleep that night. Raistlin lit the candles and Dalamar stoked up the fire in the miserable grate before they sat beside it to talk. "Who's Berem?" Raistlin asked before Dalamar could speak.
"Berem? Oh, right, yes." Dalamar nodded and leant closer, "He was on the Perechon when we went there, a mute, he looked strangely familiar and I could swear I'd seen him somewhere before."
"But why send out a whole army after just one man?" Raistlin murmured, "Have you any idea where you might know him from?"
Dalamar shook his head, "No. I can't recall. It wasn't that long ago, but I just can't-" the Dark elf sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation.
Raistlin smiled, and stoked his hair, the fine strands slipping through his fingers like water. "Either way," he sighed, smile vanishing, "It just makes things more complicated. So Kitiara won't just be after Tanis when she realises he's missing, but also someone on the very ship we're planning to take. And all we can do is hope she doesn't realise where either of these people are before tomorrow."
Dalamar inclined his head, "Then it's decided, we're leaving?"
Raistlin nodded, "I'm not staying here any longer than I have too. If the Perechon is sailing tomorrow, then we will be on it. If not, then I suggest finding other means out of the city, or at the very least different accommodation- preferably as far from Half-elven as possible." Raistlin paused and swallowed, trying to keep his breathing even as his chest tightened warningly.
Dalamar tapped his lower lip thoughtfully, "Do you think it might be worth telling the captain that the Dragonarmies are after the ship? We don't have to tell them about Berem, just suggesting that they want to commandeer the ship, or they want the crew arrested for piracy. Give them a reason to leave as soon as possible."
Raistlin nodded again, quite besides their own predicament, whatever the Dragonarmies wanted this Berem for, it couldn't be good. They wouldn't send an army after him if he was just a deserter, this had to be someone of some power. Either way, they had both done enough to mark themselves as firm enemies of the Dragonarmies, and anything that could help the Highlords would most likely be bad for them.
"If we can," Dalamar said slowly, keeping his voice low- the walls were very thin here- "I would also suggest leaving without Half-elven. He and the others will be staying here tomorrow, and if we can convince the captain to sail, we should leave them behind. Your sister will be after Tanis and we should be as far away as possible when she finds him." He raised an eyebrow at Raistlin, no doubt expecting an argument that they should stay together for safety.
But for once, Raistlin knew when he was beaten. He nodded. They would be safer travelling alone. He had no illusions that Kitiara would be anything but hostile should she find them, and after the Nightmare, he had no intention of being friendly either. He reached over and ran a finger down Dalamar's shoulder, stroking over skin that, in the Dream, his sister's sword had cleaved through. He couldn't repress a shudder at the memory.
Dalamar caught his hand in both of his, stroking his thumb over the palm before pressing his lips to his knuckles. "Come on," he sighed, "One way or another, we've a long day ahead."
He got up and made to walk back to their bunk when Raistlin stopped him. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Dalamar's chest, resting his head on the Dark elf's shoulder with a sigh. Dalamar didn't resist, and Raistlin felt his arms slide around his waist in return. It had been a very long three days, and the days ahead looked to be longer still. They both needed what comfort they could make for themselves. Dalamar's skin was warm under his robes and his lips were soft when Raistlin kissed him.
Raistlin closed his eyes as Dalamar's mouth moved under his, his hands reaching up to his collar and starting to undo the buttons. He smiled as the elf's tongue rasped against his, and his free hand fell down to the small of his back.
Raistlin's cupped Dalamar's cheek with his own hand, fingers tracing the fine bones and ticking over his ear. The hand on Raistlin's back pulled him closer until they were pressed together, chest to chest, with Raistlin's knee parting Dalamar's thighs and both of them smiling into their kiss.
At first, Raistlin thought someone had walked in on them, although he didn't hear the door open. His skin prickled with the undeniable suspicion that they were being watched. Raistlin didn't let that bother him. If whoever was watching didn't like it, they could leave. It wasn't as though they were forcing anyone to stay.
Raistlin turned his head to kiss Dalamar's cheek, planning to work his way up to biting on the Dark elf's ears, which he always liked, and felt an odd chill in the pit of his stomach, quite unlike the usual fire that warmed him during their foreplay. It twisted him inside, and he felt rather sick, hoping it wasn't a prelude to a coughing fit. An odd prickling ran up along his spine to his shoulders, knotting up the muscles in a way that was more distracting than painful.
A cold and horribly familiar numbness spread up his arms from the knot, dulling all feeling and stealing control.
You! Raistlin screamed soundlessly, struggling against the unexpected attack. He thought he heard the foul lich's laughter and he fought off the ice threatening to spread through his body.
Cold claws sinking into his mind, as though Fistandantilus was holding his brain in his talons, stifling thought and crushing will. Raistlin's mind felt scrambled, confused, the lich's control starting the pierce the fragile links of his own.
His senses were numbed, but he could feel Dalamar still holding him. The elf had no doubt realised something was wrong, and his felt the hands holding him clench.
Focus on that. Raistlin repeated to himself. Focus. If he could focus on something- anything- then his control would hold. Dalamar was the perfect subject. His hold on the Dark elf tightened, and he felt his lover reflexively drawn him closer, his face buried in the crook of his neck.
"Raistlin?" Dalamar's voice was distorted, but recognisable, his breath brushing the side of his neck.
And Raistlin hung onto those feelings, warmth thawing the cold still clawing its way through him, an anchor in the churning sea his mind had become.
Slowly, that sea calmed, and the chill retreated. The mental exercises were so familiar he barely had to think, pushing the invading presence back. Everything was still numb, but the deathly cold was starting to fade. Fistandantilus was not fighting, although whether he was satisfied with this poor show of his powers or if he was weaker than Raistlin had dare to hope, he didn't know.
Slowly the numbness faded with the cold and sensation returned, the cold air in the room felt hot in comparison, and his lover's warm body was a branding iron, welcome pain. Soft robes, firm muscles, the fine edge of elven bone. Raistlin closed his eyes and went limp against Dalamar as the last of Fistandantilus' attack vanished and he was left gasping in anticipation of the coughing fit that would soon strike.
It didn't disappoint, and the pain was all the more painful for being anticipated. Dalamar didn't relinquish his grip- just as well, since if he had Raistlin would have fallen- holding him painfully close. Raistlin held on as best he could as the spasms shook him and his coughed and hacked and spat blood on the Dark elf's robes.
Dalamar ran on hand firmly up and down his back, over muscles knotted tight from the coughing fit, loosening them and making it easier to breathe. Slowly the spasm faded- like the lich's attack, it had been mercifully short- and his coughing slowed, the crippling cramps starting to set in.
Raistlin expected Dalamar to pull away, he appreciated the support, but the Dark elf had to have realised what had just happened. But yet again, it seemed as though his lover would continue to surprise him, because if anything Dalamar just held him tighter and Raistlin started when warm lips brushed his forehead.
Raistlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at Dalamar, his body screaming and wanting nothing more than curl up against the pain in his chest.
The Dark elf sighed and started to rub his back again, and Raistlin groaned softly as the stiff muscles started to unknot, "I warned you," was all he said.
Raistlin swallowed painfully, "Aren't you afraid?" He croaked.
Of course he would be, although it would be denied. He couldn't meet Dalamar's gaze and felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with the coughing fit.
"Of course," Dalamar's voice was soft, soothing, his touch gentle. "I'm afraid for you. I have no idea what's happening but it's hurting you. But if I leave that would only hurt you more, which rather defeats the purpose, don't you think?"
"I could hurt you." Raistlin whispered, not too sure why he was arguing the point.
"I know. And if I left it would hurt me too, far more than I imagine you would think possible. So I will stay, and we'll find a way to rid you of this."
Raistlin didn't say anything. He didn't think he /could/ say anything because it felt as though something large was lodged in his throat and he couldn't see clearly and despite the magic and the power and everything there was nothing he would like more than to stay here in Dalamar's arms for the rest of his life. He bit his lip in order not to cry.
Dalamar kissed his forehead again, and lifted a hand to tilt his chin up, leaning down to kiss him more thoroughly.
Raistlin turned away, there was nothing he wanted more than to reprocate, and resume what they had been doing before being so horribly interrupted, but the thought of Fistandantilus watching this was enough to destroy any pleasure he might have had. Dalamar paused, and stroked Raistlin's cheek gently, smiling sadly.
This time Raistlin let him kiss him, soft, chaste, and when he moved back he whispered against the soft skin of the Dark elf's throat, the remnants of his coughing fit making the words unnaturally harsh, "I love you."
"Of course you do," Dalamar murmured with a contentedness that bordered just this side of smug, then he hugged Raistlin again and said, more gently, "I love you too."
Despite the fading pain in his chest, Raistlin smiled, closing his eyes and relaxing against Dalamar, head rolling against the Dark elf's chest and when Dalamar bent his head to kiss him, Raistlin lifted his face and kissed back.
Dalamar smiled against his lips, and Raistlin felt the hand on his waist stroke down his side and caress the back of his leg. He started at the intimate touch, and pushed Dalamar away.
"What is it?" Fingers touching his cheek.
Raistlin shook his head, he didn't want to risk his voice, but any pleasure he had found in the previous embrace had long evaporated and the thought of sleeping with Dalamar while he could still feel Fistandantilus in his mind was utterly repulsive. Not to mention dangerous, lose risk losing control at this time.
He heard Dalamar sigh, but the Dark elf made no attempt to continue. Raistlin didn't look at him, feeling sick in a way that had nothing to do with his cough. A hollow victory this, but still a victory of a sort. Because whatever Fistandantilus had been planning when he tried to attack, this was probably not the reaction he'd been hoping for.
"Do you want to go to bed?" Dalamar asked.
Raistlin shook his head, he didn't want to risk going to sleep. He was tired, but he'd rather sleep tomorrow. Better than risking another attack.
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The bar was almost as dark as when they had left it, with only the first hesitant tendrils of false dawn starting to lighten the sky. The gale seemed to be fading, the howl of the wind replaced by the sound of heavy rain lashing the oil covered fabric stretched over the windows.
Raistlin sat down beside the fireplace, the same place he had occupied only a short while ago. Dalamar sat opposite him, his pale face holding a hint of a scowl. Raistlin sighed, and dropped his gaze down to his hands clasped in his lap. They had to talk. As impossible as it was, they had to.
"We have to get to Palanthas." He said flatly. If the Dragon Orb was the only way of getting rid of Fistandantilus, then the sooner they had the means to use it, the better.
Dalamar didn't argue the point, looking away into the crumbling ashes of the fire. Raistlin knew what he feared, the same fear that was clenched deep inside himself. What would happened if they were wrong, if the Dragon Orb couldn't help them? Raistlin didn't dare speak the words aloud any more than Dalamar did, as if speaking of their fears would make them real.
"Is it getting harder?" Dalamar said suddenly. Raistlin looked up, frowning, and he elaborated. "To stop... whatever it is, is it getting harder to fight it off?"
Raistlin felt his throat clench in warning, but gritted his teeth and quickly shook his head, gratified to see some of the tension in Dalamar's shoulders relax.
"And can you keep fighting it off," Dalamar glanced back at him, "at least as long as it takes for us to get to Palanthas and find these books?"
Raistlin wished he'd had the presence of mind to make his tea before getting into this conversation, it might not stave off the vengeful coughing fit creeping up on him, but at least it would help afterwards. He nodded swiftly, then doubled over coughing.
"Oh Nuitari," Dalamar groaned, and Raistlin felt him touch his shoulder. Luckily the spasm was a short one, a warning as to what would happen if they continued this line of questioning. Raistlin swallowed painfully a few times and wiped his mouth, no blood this time, thank the Gods.
He glanced up at Dalamar, who was shaking his head. "You really can't speak of this at all, can you?"
Raistlin felt his lips stretch into a poor smile, and shook his head. He's tried to write it down once, and had barely written two words before the coughing fit had hit him, it had been so violent that he'd knocked over the ink bottle and after that had stopped trying.
Dalamar touched his hair gently and shook his head again, sighing. "Palanthas." He said instead. "I hope you're right."
Raistlin nodded, so was he.

Skull Bearer.
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Nocturnale