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Alvorecer	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1612 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
Spicyeggplant: Thank you ;)
Kaiho Neko: Of course not, it wouldn't be much of an ending now would it? Here's chapter two.
erin: Heh, thank you. Suffering is also worth seeing.
DeviantArt:
Myar: hugs
halokitty: Thank you, it's going to be harder, but a lot more interesting.
Livejournal:
shadowvalkyrie: Well, it's going to get far more interesting, but not exactly happy.
analia the1st: Thank you for the beta, as ever. It's strange, but if Raistlin /had/ taken Dalamar with him, the would probably have both died. If you remember, in canon when Raistlin used the Dragon Orb just to transport himself, he nearly died. With two of them... Ironic, eh?
Alvorecer
Chapter two: For Bidding
You were from a perfect world
A world that threw me away today
Today to run away.
-Coma White
Raistlin could feel the walls imprisoning him, the planes and sheets of ice-walls he had built to keep Fistandantilus out now used by the lich against him. He flailed out against it, but so shattered and unfocused, he might as well have been beating against a stone wall. It didn't so much as shiver, and Fistandantilus ignored him.
He had to fight, but it hurt so much, like fighting with a broken spine, or crippled limbs. Every movement, every thought bringing a new flash of agony. Raistlin didn't know if the lich was amplifying the pain to break him- or even if he needed to. It hurt, it hurt so much. He couldn't block out the images, replaying over and over again those last few moments, that look of horror on Dalamar's face, those small movement's he made, as if to reach out to him only to find him gone.
Raistlin couldn't feel his body; he couldn't see and couldn't hear. And in that moment, he didn't care.
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Welcome, O noble visitor, to our beautiful city.
Welcome to the city beloved of the gods.
Welcome, oh honored guest, to
Istar.
The words swam above Dalamar's head, his first vague thought to wonder as to who would call him a 'noble visitor'. He reached over to wake Raistlin and have him take a look-
His hand hit cold stone.
The Dragon orb. The Maelstrom. Kitiara. The ship breaking apart. Raistlin's icy voice. Ast bilak mioparalan Suh akvlar tantangusar. The crushing weight of the waves. Water filling his lungs. Raistlin's eyes- the dead man's eyes. Ast bilak mioparalan Suh akvlar tantangusar. The sting of salt water on his torn hands. Berem and Tanis. The feeling of air scalding his drowned lungs. Ast bilak mioparalan Suh akvlar tantangusar. Raistlin's horrified expression. Raistlin... leaving. Raistlin leaving him to die.
Ast bilak mioparalan Suh akvlar tantangusar.
The words rang in Dalamar's ears like echoes. His breath was sharp in his throat, agony in his skinned lungs. Was he dead? He wondered, staring up at the carved archway above his head. If he was, then it was not the release he had hoped. But then, things should not hurt so much if you were dead. His lungs were screaming from the salt water he had inhaled, his head was pounding and his body felt as though it had spent a half-hour on the rack.
And in his heart...
He remembered the Nightmare, and how Raistlin had been there after he had 'died'. It was absurd, but he couldn't help but look around. This was no dream though, and he was alone. Alone in a network of catacombs that stretched away as far as he could see. High, arching ceilings shrouded in shadows that not ever his elven eyes could pierce. It reminded him of the temple of E'li in Silvanesti- he derailed the thought, he didn't want to feel any more pain, not now- Everything was old here, old and decrepit and damaged by the damp, mosses clinging to the delicate architecture and puddles forming under the first tentative spires of stalactites.
Dalamar sat up stiffly, and looked back up the archway above his head. It was made of marble, and badly worn, with mosses clinging to the surface. Istar. He hung on to the word, because if he was thinking of this he was not thinking of the other things that crowded in on his mind, promising more pain than he could deal with. Istar. This was Istar. /He/ was in Istar. Dalamar glanced around again; to his right was a large room, eerily lit by some unseen source. How was this possible? Istar had been cast into the Blood Sea after the Cataclysm, true, but why wasn’t it swamped with water? And how did he get here to begin with? Dalamar looked up, as if expecting to see the hole he had fallen in from. Of course, there was nothing.
Dalamar stared up at the ceiling, and recalled- of all things- something he had heard Flint say, an eternity ago back in Solace. The dwarf had been arguing with Tanis over the superiority of stone over wood when it came to building houses, stating that only stone houses had survived the Cataclysm, and that even in Istar, he had no doubt that “certain lucky fish are living quite comfortably.”
The memory was so clear, so absurd, and so ridiculous, that despite the pain in his lungs and heart, Dalamar burst out laughing.
The laughter echoed eerily around the catacombs of Istar, making him start. He tried to stop, hearing a tinge of hysteria in his voice, but he couldn’t, laughing until he had no air left in his screaming lungs. Dalamar drew in heavy, staggering breath, and then the dam broke, the ice shattered and the iron crumbled. His shoulders heaved in a great, shuddering sob as the events of the last few hours finally caved in on him.
Dalamar curled in on himself, hugging his knees and cradling his head as he wept uncontrollably, not caring who might see or hear him in this state. He didn't try to stop, even if he could have, the tears burning trails down his salt-stiff cheeks. Each sob brought a shudder that threatened to tear him apart, loud and choking. He couldn't look away from the memory of Raistlin's face, couldn't hear anything but his lover's cold voice as he commanded the Dragon orb, the words echoing over and over again in his mind.
Dalamar didn't know how long his sat there, howling his misery to the ancient walls. Only that what he stopped, his head was pounding and he had no more tears left to cry. His face was wet, the strands of his black hair lank and slick, and his robes sodden where he had rested his face on them. Dalamar choked, and drew in a heavy breath, feeling it catch in dry sobs when he was unable to cry any more. He felt weak and shaky and light-headed, and cold. He hadn't realized how cold he was until now, his damp robes providing scant protection against the chill air. He drew in another breath, and wiped his nose and cheeks with his sleeve. His ears were ringing and he kept hearing Raistlin's voice.
Ast bilak mioparalan Suh akvlar tantangusar.
No. Not Raistlin's voice.
Dalamar opened his eyes, the world was a hazy blur, but his mind felt clearer than it had for- since- Dalamar pushed that thought away, the sharp edge of the pain. It was easier now, the edge worn from his tears. He swallowed, trying to slow his breathing, he had to think.
Not Raistlin. The realization was like being hit with a thunderbolt. Not his voice. He knew that voice, he knew those eyes. He had recognized them before his heart-splitting misery and grief and shredded his mind and made it impossible to think at all. The voice from Silvanesti, the eyes he had seen looking out from being Raistlin's. The voice of ice, the eyes of a dead man.
Dalamar drew in a second, deep breath, and then started as he heard the footsteps. They were close; if he hadn't been so stunned he would have heard them earlier. He turned around stiffly; the person was coming from behind him, from the large room.
The mental pain had died to a nagging, dull ache, but one that flared up immediately the moment Dalamar laid eyes on the man running towards him. Even though the man wore red robes, Dalamar knew better than to mistake him for Raistlin, but the pain the reminder prompted was enough that he didn't react at once when the man ran past him.
Dalamar bit back the pain and forced himself to his feet, his every bone ached, and the moment he straightened up his head span so hard he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. Dalamar took another breath to steady himself, and his head snapped up as the sounds of more footsteps reached his ears.
The door on the far side of the large room flew open, and Berem staggered through it, Dalamar blinked, although he decided he really shouldn’t have been surprised. What did surprise him were those who followed after- Tanis, Riverwind and Goldmoon.
There was an awkward silence when they saw him, then Tanis spoke quickly, "The man- the Red Robe- have you seen him?"
Dalamar didn't react at once, between the pain in his head and that in his heart, everything felt unreal. He looked away and turned and nodded down the corridor the man had vanished down. Tanis nodded and wordlessly they filed past him. Dalamar paused, then fell into step behind them. He didn't know why he did so, only that they were going somewhere that might afford some answers, and if not, even their company was better than that of his own thoughts.

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The race through the ruined city of Istar reminded Dalamar of nothing so much as Silvanesti after the Nightmare had been broken, it's horrors revealed to the light of day. The buildings still retained something of their ancient, alien beauty, but centuries of neglect had only made them stranger and more disturbing, like running through a half-formed dream. The Dark elf paid them little attention, focusing only on following the others. He was so tired that he didn't feel entirely real, his body no longer feeling as though it belonged to him, his mind heavy and numb.
Tanis glanced back at him as they ran through an open space that had once been a garden, the plants petrified by the salt and darkness, the brown, withered grass crumbling under their feet. Dalamar glowered back at the Half-elf, and he looked away. He didn't want them to speak to him; he didn't want them to /look/ at him. Every time he saw them was a reminder of how alone he was. That he had to face them by himself because Raistlin was no longer there.
The dead garden led into a long hall, it was darker here, and the smell of wet and mildew was suffocating. It was empty, but once they rounded a corner Dalamar noticed a set of stairs heading down. He started down them automatically, the others paused, their eyes taking longer to adapt to the darkness, and then they too headed down the stairs.
If he had time, and if- another twist of his heart- Raistlin was here, Dalamar knew that he would quite happily have spent hours examining just this one staircase. It was wide enough to lead an army down, and more ornate than the Tower of the Sun in Qualinesti. His eyes swept over the statues gracing each landing, and the murals painted on the walls; even faded and cracked, they were more real and more beautiful than any he had ever seen. They showed scenes from the glory days of Istar, one was an image of the Kingpriest triumphant over the Kurnos the Deceiver, the next was a scene of the man raising the dead, and the third a depiction of knights in victory over the wizards.
Dalamar looked at this last one, vaguely realizing that he should feel insulted or indignant, but it felt as though his thoughts were acting out a shadow-play of what he should have been feeling. Even interest felt almost impossible to dredge up. He was numb, numb as he hadn't been since the first weeks of his exile.
Even Dalamar's eyes couldn't pierce the darkness at the foot of the stairs, only catching brief flashes of the Red Robed mage. It grew even darker as they descended, and so humid if felt as though he were breathing clouds. Dalamar slowed as his ears picked up the sound of water lapping against stone. Someone ran into his back, and he heard Riverwind swear softly and reach out to hold Tanis back.
As they descended the last few steps, the room slowly came into view. He could see the man more clearly now, a tall, brown haired figure kneeling down beside a large pool of dark water. The pool clearly led to the sea, for it was moving and rippling against the shore- was this how they had been brought here? Dalamar wondered.
A few more steps down, and he could see that the Red Robe was not alone, although he was in front of them, Dalamar could pick out a figure sitting in the pool. He could see a slender white arm, and the edges of green tinged hair floating in the water.
"I have been waiting," A woman's voice, speaking elven. Dalamar again felt that he should have been surprised, but was so weary that it simply wasn’t worth the effort. Behind him, Tanis gasped, the Dark elf leaned over to see what he had noticed, and even he blinked in shock at the sight of the woman.
His first thought was to reach over and alert Raistlin, then bit his lip when he remembered, feeling tears sting his eyes. The woman was a sea elf. They were little more than folk-tales in Silvanesti, of elves that had fled the land to find refuge from evil beneath the waves. Dalamar shook his head, forcing the thought away and focusing on the woman's conversation with the Red Robe.
"I'm sorry, beloved," The man's voice was soft and soothing, loving in a way that sent new thorns through Dalamar's heart. "I went to see how the young man you were concerned about was doing. He'll be alright now. He's a strong one, but you were right, he has been through a sore trial. Something about his brother- a magic user- betraying him.
Dalamar felt the other's stares boring into his back, but didn't react. It the previous reminder was a thorn, this was a dagger. Everything felt raw, with the slightest touch burning agony. His eyes stung, and he fought the urge to blink and show his tears.
"Caramon!" Tanis murmured from behind him.
"QueaKI'ICHeecx," the woman snapped, incomprehensible.
The man clearly understood, "Yes! After I made sure those two were safe, I went to see the others, one of them- a bearded fellow, a Half-elf, leaped at me as though he would swallow me whole! The others we managed to save are doing well."
"And the Dark elf?"
Dalamar recognized the hint of fear in the woman's voice. He had heard it so often that normally he barely spared it a thought, now, it stung.
"I passed him in the corridor," The mage paused, "Have you thought of what we should do with him?"
The sea elf sighed, "I don't know, if I had known what he was..."
"You would have saved him anyway, my love." The mage reached out to touch the elf's shining green hair, "You could never stand to watch anyone harmed, even a Dark elf."
The woman sighed, and the Red Robe changed the subject, "I would have liked to know what any of them were doing in the Blood Sea of Istar. I've never known a ship's captain foolish enough to dare the maelstrom. The girl told me there's a war going on above. Maybe they had no choice."
The woman pushed herself away from the shore, and splashed the mage playfully, "There's always war going on above! You are too curious, my beloved. Sometimes I think you might leave me and return to your world. Especially after you talk to these KreeaQUEKH."
The man bent down and kissed a lock of the woman's hair. "No, Apoletta. Let them have their wars and their brothers who betray brothers. Let them have their Dark elves and their foolish sea captains. As long as my magic serves me, I will live beneath the waves."
Dalamar frowned- As long as my magic serves me, did that mean that the man had a spell that allowed him to live underwater? He had heard of spells that allowed the caster to breath water. Perhaps the man had such in his spellbook.
Tanis cleared his throat, stepping down the last few steps to ground level. The others followed, but Dalamar lagged behind, after what the woman had said, he wasn't sure if he wanted to draw attention to himself.
But then, remembering the pain that lurked just below the surface of his thought, he couldn't help but wonder if it might have been kinder for her to let him drown after all- just to stop feeling.
The man's head snapped around, clearly taken completely by surprise, the woman vanished so swiftly that it seemed as though she had turned invisible, without so much as a ripple to show she had even been there.
Dalamar didn't heard what Tanis was saying to the Red Robe, he was speaking too fast and too incoherently. He caught a few words; references to the war, to the others, to Raistlin- Dalamar clenched his teeth- to the war and to the dragons-
"There are sea dragons, half-elf," The sea elf had reappeared as suddenly as she had vanished, and Dalamar wondered if there might have been some truth in the old tale that sea elves could become invisible in water. "And we have heard rumours of their return. We did not believe them though. We didn't know the dragons had awakened. Whose fault was that?" There was fear in her eyes, the fear of one who had faced dragons before.
"Does it matter?" Tanis sounded calmer, if weary, "They have destroyed the ancient homeland. Silvanesti is a land of nightmares now." Another flash of pain, but muted, old and worn, overshadowed by his present grief. Dalamar wondered if the pain he felt now would fade in the same way. A smile of no humour pulled at his lips; of course not.
"Nothing, no one is safe," Tanis was still talking, "The Dark Queen has one purpose- to gain dominance over every living being. Will you be safe? Even down here? For I presume we are below the sea?"
"You are right, Half-elf," The Red Robe answered. "You are beneath the sea, in the ruins of the city of Istar. The sea elves saved you and brought you here, as they bring all those whose ships are wrecked. I know where your friends are and I can take you there. Beyond that, I can’t see what more I can do for you."
"Get us out of here," Riverwind spoke up for the first time. “Who is this woman, Tanis? She looks elven."
Dalamar realized for the first time that Tanis and Apoletta’s conversation had taken place entirely in elven. The woman smiled, and introduced herself in Common.
"Anyway," Tanis continued, "the sea elves are the ones, who rescued us, like all elves, they consider life sacred-"
Had Raistlin been there, he would have said something sarcastic about any lives but that of a Dark elf. Dalamar tried not to think of it. Holding the thoughts back until he had the time to pick them apart and perhaps understand why.
"-and help anyone lost at sea or drowning. This man, her husband-"
"Zebulah," The man introduced himself.
"I am Tanis Half-Elven, Riverwind and Goldmoon of the Que-Shu tribe, and Berem, uh-" Tanis broke off, glancing at Berem as though hoping the man would introduce himself.
Dalamar stepped down to ground level, and into the light of the torches. "Dalamar Nightson," he bit out.
The sea elf's eyes were cold. Normally, Dalamar was hardened enough that her disgust wouldn't have bother him, but now, with his soul flayed and bleeding it was just one more blow. Dear Nuitari, wasn't this enough? His eyes burnt with tears he refused to let fall.
The woman didn't speak to him, but rather turned to her husband, “Zebulah find the friends the Half-elf speaks of and bring them back here."
"We should go with you, if you thought I was going to swallow you, there’s no telling what Caramon might do-"
"No." Apoletta shook her head. "Send the barbarians, Half-elf. You stay here. I would talk with you and learn more of this war you say could endanger us. It saddens me to hear the dragons have awakened. If that is true, I fear you might be right. Our world will no longer be safe."
"I will be back soon, beloved," Zebulah smiled.
Dalamar wondered if he should go with them, but the thought of spending any time with Caramon was utterly repulsive. He didn't want to think of how now they were in the same situation, abandoned by the same person. The thought that Raistlin had left him as coldly and eagerly as he had left Caramon was something Dalamar simply couldn't think about.
Skull Bearer
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Alvorecer