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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
- 1
- 2
- 3
Tsukiyo no Yume: I enjoyed writing that line too, the idea was taken from one of the Icewind Dale games, where a troll makes a club to 'knock some sense into her empty husband's head'. Unfortunately for us all, the Staff of Magius does not have this power. ;)
Scarlet Dragon: I hope it'll be up to scratch, this is a very important timeline i'm covering. Thanks for the review.
Dagmar the Dark: Cheers.
Crepuscule
Chapter two- Of Escaping
He's coming from that same old road
You know the one your folds don't know
-Northern Soul, The Verve

During the conversation, no one had been paying attention to the two strangers, although they had clearly been listening carefully to them. It was only now, with the rest of the group talking amongst themselves with even the two mages, listening to Tanis' recollection of the search the Highseeker's guards were conducting for a staff, and an old man starting a storytelling session beside them, that they felt comfortable enough to remove the hoods still shading their faces.
Tasslehoff noticed it first, and leant forward to tug on Tanis's sleeve, which got everyone's attention.
Raistlin glanced impassively at the woman Tasslehoff was pointing at. He had never been interested in women at the best of times and now, with Par-Salian's curse leeching the beauty and youth of all he saw save elves and -he suppressed a shudder- Irda, all women looked the same to him. The only thing to distinguish this one was the lack of weapons. She was armed only with a simple walking staff, trimmed with feathers in the barbarian way.
On turning back, however, he was slightly surprised to see that everyone else was staring at the Plainswoman; even Dalamar was looking mildly impressed.
Raistlin smirked, "Is she that attractive?"
The woman's companion, a man whose thinness -Raistlin was sure- was not entirely due to the observing mage's cursed sight, scowled at him. He had been eyeing the group nervously and had obviously taken Raistlin's question as an affront to his charge. "Are you insulting the Chieftain's Daughter?" he snarled and made to get up.
Tanis forestalled him, "He meant no offence, warrior, and-" he added, with a cold look at the two mages- "he's not interested in women anyway."
Whatever the Plainsman was about to say was mercifully interrupted by the old storyteller and his audience asking the Plainswoman for a tale. Upon her polite refusal, the old man, addressing her by name -Goldmoon- asked if she would sing for them instead.
The song the woman sang was long, a soft lamenting tale of herself and the warrior beside her, and of a search for a blue crystal staff.
As beautiful as the song was, the reaction to it was less than. One of the men listening was the Highseeker Theocrat, Henderick, and he was not pleased by what he heard, and even less by the old man's subsequent tale of the old gods. The drunken Theocrat stumbled to his feet, calling for the guards to arrest the whole group as heretics and demanding that the woman hand over her staff. Naturally, she refused.
Raistlin recalled later that it was exactly from that point that everything began to go downhill. Hederick had lunged for the staff and the Plainsman had repulsed him with a shove that sent to the Theocrat tumbling into the fireplace.
Dalamar and he exchanged glances; this was not a situation they wanted to get into. The theocrat had become a human torch and neither of them wanted to be arrested as accomplices to murder. Best to creep away quickly and hope nobody noticed.
Quietly picking up their bags, the two mages made for the door amidst the commotion, but before they were able to got more than two steps, however, there was a shout and a gasp from the crowd.
Under instructions from the aged storyteller, Tasslehoff had grabbed the Plainswoman's staff and hit the Theocrat with it, thinking to knock the man over and smother the flames. Upon striking the man, the staff had flashed a bright, vivid blue and the flames died instantly. Moreover, the Theocrat's burns were healed completely!
Raistlin stared and Dalamar's eyes went wide. "True healing," the Dark elf breathed, amazed.
If Hederick was grateful, however, he had an odd way of showing it. The Theocrat was enraged, calling on the guards to arrest the whole lot of them, including -Raistlin felt sure- himself and Dalamar. The man then plunged his hand back into the flames in order to 'purify' himself. This time it was Dalamar who winced, and Raistlin could guess why: If this man, who was quite clearly a fanatic, could happily burn his own hand off, it was all too easy to imagine what such a zealot would do to those he termed heretics.
Not to mention, as Tika was now explaining, that the whole town had been turned upside down in a search for the very staff Tasslehoff held. The people in the room was scowling at them, some moving to gasp at the handles of assorted weapons.
"We'll go out though the kitchen," Tanis called.
The two mages looked at each other; /they/ were in no hurry to stay in the Inn and be executed, as the unperturbed Sturm seemed to be. They made their way quickly after the rest, leaving Tanis behind as he tried to reason with his friend. Clearly, the knight's code forbade him to run away even when his life was in danger, and it was only by appealing to Sturm's vow to protect Goldmoon that he got the man moving.
By now, both Raistlin and Dalamar had followed the others out of the main room and through the kitchen. The way out was little more than a hole cut on the floorboards with a rope attached to the overhead beams so food could be hoisted up. Tasslehoff, Goldmoon and her warrior were already on their way down, but Caramon was waiting for them by the hole.
"How are you going to get down, Raist?" he asked, looking worried. "I can carry you-"
"Get out of my way!" Raistlin snarled, using the Staff of Magius to shove his brother back. He glanced back at Dalamar. "What about you?"
The Dark elf waved the question away. "I am more than capable of climbing down a rope, as you well know."
The Red Robe thought about adding that while yes, Dalamar did know how to clamber down a rope, he had never seen the elven mage do this with any amount of furious guardsmen on his heels, but decided against it. Tightening his grip on the Staff and ignoring his brother's exclamation, he jumped.
The feeling of weightlessness was comforting, a reminder that the spell had worked and that he was not plunging to his death. The blaze of magic surrounded him and the crystal mounted on his staff glowed bright, lighting up the gloom and flickering on the fabric of his red robes as he floated down.
Landing on the dead leaves already carpeting the ground, Raistlin looked back up. Dalamar had followed him, climbing easily down the rope and shooting alarmed looks up at Flint and Caramon, whose combined weight was making the rope creak loudly. After that came Tanis, who slipped halfway down and no doubt left bits of skin decorating the rope, and finally Sturm.
Tika leant out of the hole they had just climbed out of, mouthing at them to hide out at her house. By now, all of them could hear the footsteps of the Solace guards making their way towards the inn, and nobody argued when they struck out for Tika's house, Tanis reasoning that they could stay there the night and lie low for a few days while everything blew over, before helping the Plainsmen on their way.
The two mages lagged behind, partly due to Raistlin's exhaustion and partly to talk in relative privacy. Dalamar gave a sardonic smile. "Well, we came here for news of the gods, and this is certainly more than either of us ever dreamed."
"A fine line between a dream and a nightmare, dear Dalamar," Raistlin said softly. He was tired, and could feel a coughing fit coming. As if prompted by that thought, the human mage doubled over, coughing up the blood that seemed to have flooded his lungs.
Dalamar caught him by the arm and helped him limp along. "Raistlin," the Dark elf's voice was so quiet Raistlin wasn't sure he'd heard it.
"What?" The word was choked out.
"I- never mind."
Raistlin cursed silently; he knew what Dalamar was about to say, the Dark elf's thoughts were written all over his face. He would want to know if the staff's power could heal Raistlin's shattered body.
The human mage knew it wouldn't. Not even the clerical magic of the old gods could have helped stop Fistandantilus' constant drain that kept the wounds in his lungs from healing and kept the withered old lich alive. Not that Dalamar knew that particular fact, and if Raistlin had anything to do with it, he never would.
Instead, Raistlin changed the subject, "This is not going to be over by morning."
Dalamar snorted, "After the goblin guards nearly turned the whole of Solace upside down? Half-Human's being overly optimistic. Still, with a bit of luck we'll at least be able to get a good night's sleep."
The human mage sighed again. After what had happened in the Sentinel Peak, and remembering the sheer stubbornness of their goblin pursuers, Raistlin knew they would be lucky to have one night's grace.
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Despite Raistlin's pessimistic expectations, all was quiet. They had reached Tika's house after a very arduous climb that had him coughing blood again by the end of it. He was now seated by the fireplace, sipping the warm tea and feeling his body relax from the spasms that had shaken him. Dalamar was gently stroking his back, something that always helped to calm him.
Their eyes were fixed on the blue crystal staff in the Plainswoman's hands as she gently touched Tanis's palms with it, its smooth edges shining in the firelight.
"What do you think?" The Half-elf asked, turning to the two mages asked. Clearly his wish for answers outweighed his animosity towards them.
"If that is a wizardly staff, then I have never seen illusions like it," Dalamar answered. Raistlin took as sip of tea and nodded.
Tanis raised his hands; he had scraped them bloody sliding down the rope, yet now they were whole and unmarked. "No illusion," he said grimly.
Raistlin stifled a small cough. "If she's a charlatan, then she's a good one."
This comparison didn't please the Plainsman, who had to be restrained my Goldmoon. Raistlin ignored them.
"If I may?" he asked, gesturing towards the staff. Beside him, he felt Dalamar tense and fought down a sigh. The Dark elf was going to be disappointed.
Quite how disappointed, he didn't know until his fingertips touched the gleaming crystal, then there was a blinding flash of blue light and a loud crack. Raistlin snatched his hand away with a low cry, staring at his hand. The skin was burnt, the golden pallor stained with red.
Dalamar made as if to take the staff, but his companion stopped him. "Do not touch it!" If he was right, the elven mage might come away with worse than a few burns. Of course, he might be wrong, but there was no need for the Dark elf to take the risk.
At least not while there was someone all but lining up to take the risk for him. "Caramon."
The big man jumped. "Raist?"
Biting back his ire -his irritation with the childish nickname had not changed-, Raistlin continued, "Pick up the staff."
Caramon hesitated for a moment before fear yielded to the loyalty to his twin. He reached down and picked up the staff. Nothing happened.
Raistlin nodded; he was right. "See there, only those of simple goodness, pure of heart-" His sarcasm was biting, after all Caramon had done to make Dalamar's life hard, he wouldn't call his brother 'of simple goodness', still, there was no accounting for taste. "-may touch the staff. It is a sacred staff of healing, and no doubt blessed by some god. This is no magic, I have heard of no magic objects that provide healing."
"Shhh!" Tasslehoff's voice interrupted from the window, where the kender was looking out into the night. Sure enough, they could all hear the flapping footsteps of goblins. "It's the Theocrat's guards," Tasslehoff continued excitedly.
They could hear the rasping voices clearly now, banging on doors and arguing as they made their way past the neighbouring houses towards theirs. What was worse, Raistlin noticed with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that idiot Tanis had forgotten to lock the door, or even close it! It hung half open, swaying gently in the breeze. Caramon made his way to stand behind it, but before he had the chance to shut it, the goblins pushed their way inside.
Of course, after that it was a simple case of Caramon stepping up behind them and banging their heads together. Unfortunately, Raistlin thought sourly, his twin’s brawn once again outweighed his brains; he hit the goblins so hard he killed them.
Tanis was grim. "Well, that's torn it; we've murdered two of the Theocrat's guards. He'll have the whole town up in arms. Now we can't just lie low here for a few days -we've got to get out of here! And you two-" He turned to the barbarians. "-have better come with us."
"Wherever we're going," Flint mumbled into his beard.
"Where were you headed?" Tanis asked the plainsman -Riverwind.
"We were travelling to Haven."
Raistlin turned to Dalamar, and the Dark elf shrugged. As disagreeable as the company might be, they had little choice. There was safety in numbers, so it was said -although Raistlin privately thought that whoever had concocted that had never met Caramon- and, like Tanis, they were curious about the staff. Haven it was.
The house was a rush of activity for the next few minutes; Raistlin putting out the fire, Caramon and Sturm making it look as if there had been a fight, and everyone else raiding the larder. Dalamar glanced around and, seeing nothing for him to do, took the opportunity to ransack to goblin bodies for any steel the smelly creatures might have been carrying.
The Plainsman looked disgusted. "Do you have no shame, robbing the dead?"
Raistlin and Dalamar exchanged pitying glances; they had little doubt that if they had been the ones dead on the floor, the goblins would have happily riffled through /their/ belongings.
"Very well," the Dark elf said, straightening up. "And if we are caught and have to bribe our way out, I'll make sure to exclude you, seeing as you wouldn’t want to /sully yourselves/ with coins from the dead." He shook a kidskin purse in their direction and went to stand beside Raistlin.
Tanis interjected before anything got out of hand, "Stop this, we've got enough trouble without adding to it. We will escort you north," he added to the Plainsmen, "and at the crossroads you may go southwest to Haven if you wish. I for one-" And here he glanced at his companions. "-will carry on north, and find out what is happening there."
Raistlin smirked, so did Dalamar. They knew that was not the only reason the half-elf was eager to go north. "Clearly he misses having Kitiara to warm his bed," Dalamar said in a carrying whisper.
Tanis flushed, and curiously, so did Sturm. Raistlin put it down to the knight's rather prudish morals. "Is that plan all right?"
Everyone had expressed his or her agreement, and Goldmoon turned to Tanis, thanking him. "You risk your lives for us, and we are strangers."
Raistlin saw Tanis' smile in the half-light of Lunitari and sneered.
"I am Tanis," the half-elf said. "The knight is Sturm Brightblade, Flint Fireforge is the dwarf, and Caramon Majere is the big one, Tasslehoff is the kender. There, we are no longer strangers."
"And the mages? Who are they?"
Tanis's smile faltered. "They are not exactly friends of ours-"
"There's an understatement," Dalamar commented dryly.
"-The Red Robe is Caramon's brother, Raistlin Majere, and the Dark elf is Dalamar Nightson."
There was a moment's silence, then as one, everyone moved towards the door. Tanis stayed a moment, surveying the room with his typical look of melancholy, before sighing and following them out of the door.

Skull Bearer.
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Crepuscule