Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Raistlin's Return	By : pip Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2422 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: My sincere thanks to Petalwing for beta reading and comments.
Chapter Two
One of the guardians had brought Dalamar, and he now stood outside the study door, listening to the sounds coming from within. Shouts and curses, bangs and crashes. Then there was silence, before the inevitable sound of violent coughing reached his ears.
“How long has this been going on?” Dalamar demanded of the guardian.
“For two hours, Master.” Dalamar was furious that he had not been alerted sooner. “We have instructions not to enter.” The spectre stared at him, its unblinking eyes emotionless, and yet it reacted to Dalamar’s apparent anger by retreating a little.
“Leave us.” Dalamar commanded icily, and the guardian disappeared, closing its eyes in acquiescence.
Left alone outside the door, Dalamar still wondered if he should disturb his Shalafi. But concern for Raistlin’s health made him decide to intervene. He was needed here, if only as an encouragement to that weak, white-robed nephew of his. He frowned, the coughing had stopped, and now there was silence. That did not bode well. Foregoing the usual knock, Dalamar walked straight into the study.
Raistlin was sat at the desk. He held a handkerchief to his mouth; parts of it were already stained red with his blood. Dalamar had seen all this before, many times, and he wondered for a moment what Raistlin had been trying to do. His next glance took in the spell books that were scattered on the desk, and on the floor. The scrolls that were opened but unused, and suddenly he understood all too well. Dalamar wanted to retreat, and he started to back away – he didn’t need to witness this. But it was too late; Raistlin had already seen him.
“Come here, apprentice,” came the softly spoken command, and Dalamar obeyed without even thinking. So hard to resist the urge to do whatever Raistlin wanted. So long he had been subservient. Dalamar remembered. At first all had been pretence, coupled with a kind of desperate fear lest Raistlin should find out about his spying for the conclave. But by the time Raistlin revealed he knew the truth, following the Shalafi’s orders and seeing to his wishes had become almost second nature.
But that had not been enough, had it? Bitterly, Dalamar remembered what had happened after Raistlin found out about his treachery, and he was still revolted with himself for allowing it.
Things were different now. He was not that apprentice anymore, whatever Raistlin seemed to think about their strange relationship. Raistlin was back, and at first he had been stunned, but he would not stand in his shadow anymore. He looked down at his former master, and suddenly he wanted to hear that cough as it tore Raistlin apart. Let him die at my feet, that would almost be enough, Dalamar thought. The malevolence in his gaze did not go unnoticed, but he cared little. Angry at the command and at the way he had given in to it, Dalamar turned on his heel to leave.
He was stopped by one of those golden hands on his wrist. He looked back at Raistlin, the words to a spell on his lips, prepared to strike him, but he was caught again. “You will remember your place, Dalamar,” he hissed, and that hand pulled him down to his knees while Raistlin’s eyes burned with some kind of dangerous desire.
Dalamar knew that look. It was the same look Raistlin had when he was working magic; when he lay almost dead at the end of some successful enterprise. It was a look that meant power. Dalamar knew he couldn’t afford to feel fear when that look was turned on him, but he gave into it despite himself. It was impossible to deny.
Golden hands held his face while Raistlin looked deeply into his eyes with that same frightening need, and Dalamar reached instinctively to push Raistlin’s arms away from him. But there was no real strength to stop that touch, and Raistlin spoke again. “You are mine.”
Those words spoke to a part of him that had no interest in fighting, and at Raistlin’s encouragement that part of Dalamar took over his mind. Now he remembered differently. He remembered the freedom in chains; the pleasure in pain, the entire world reduced to nothing but sensation, and him. Dalamar struggled inside himself, but he was still addicted to this. The wondering if it would ever end, and knowing that he didn’t care. The danger that it might not. And above all, the deliberate ignorance of his desire. A sigh of pure longing escaped him, and he could not deny the claim.
“Yes, Shalafi,” he said, turning his face into Raistlin’s touch. And it still dismayed him that he had spoken truly, that something still demanded this giving in. He could refuse Raistlin nothing, and in that moment he hated Raistlin more than ever. For this, for the consuming darkness. A secret between them that could not be spoken.
Raistlin’s eyes flared with a strange, inner light at his answer, and Dalamar felt his heart quicken. His master indicated the myriad books and scrolls with a sweep of his arm. “Then you must share with me.”
“Shalafi?” Dalamar frowned. “I don’t understand… what do you mean?” A dark feeling of foreboding took hold of him, but he wilfully ignored what it tried to tell him.
Raistlin smiled sardonically. “You are even beginning to sound like Caramon.” Dalamar closed his eyes swiftly at the obvious meaning, but opened them again when Raistlin continued talking. “However, I will explain it to you, apprentice. There is a certain spell that belonged to Fistandantilus. I doubt very much he ever cast it himself.” Raistlin smirked at that. “It is a restorative spell. It was to be used for restoring the life and abilities of a fallen comrade during battle…” Raistlin let his words trail off when he saw that Dalamar comprehended him.
Dalamar felt the blood drain from his face. Of course, what did he have that Raistlin wanted? Magic. Something in him broke a little, and he closed his eyes. The Shalafi knew the sheer scale of what he asked, he must. And Dalamar knew even as he longed to flee from this, that he would do it. It occurred to him that the only one without power here was himself, and he couldn’t contain an hysterical laugh at the irony.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Adult-FanFiction.Org is not in any way associated with or related to FanFiction.Net

Adult-FanFiction.org (AFF, the site), its owners, agents, and any other entities related to Adult-FanFiction.org or the AFF forum take no responsibility for the works posted to the Adult-FanFiction.org by its members.

While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.

All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.

Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!

Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo

Raistlin's Return