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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
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Crepuscule
Chapter Nineteen - Of Battle
Theres a light pausing
Feel the volume of the sky
Mark your place in time with another question why...
-Sway, Lost Prophets

Gods, when had things become so complicated? It had seemed so easy between them, even a few short months ago, but now everything seemed to be changing, and this present argument was not helping matters.
"I still say we should have told them," Dalamar persisted.
Raistlin growled in exasperation, "And I still say that it would have been pointless. What did it matter if the traitor was revealed? By the time we knew, it was already too late, those idiots had told him more than enough. He would have gone straight to Verminaard, and we would have received a draconian welcoming committee. At least this way we have some chance."
The elven wizard bit his lip. "I don't believe that."
The Red Robe must have read the emotions he was trying to hide because he frowned suddenly. "What did he promise to tempt you?"
Damn, that was one answer the Dark elf wanted to keep locked up forever. He didn't think Raistlin would like it if he knew.
"He offered safety for both of us, didn't he?" The human mage's voice was flat. "Me, particularly."
The Silvanesti nodded reluctantly.
"By all the Gods Dalamar, I thought that settled. How many times do I have to tell you that I can look out for myself?"
"And how well have you been doing that!" the dark-robed elf snapped. "Poisoned by draconians, nearly killed by that black dragon, not to mention coughing yourself into a coma three days ago! And add to this the fact that you /still/ won't tell me what caused that. So no, Raistlin Majere, I'm /not/ sure if you can look after yourself!"
For once, the younger mage had no answer. He lowered his eyes and sighed again. "Very well, I understand you've had reason to worry, but was that offer so tempting that you couldn't even tell me about it?"
Dalamar shook his head. "If I had, the deal would’ve been off. It wasn't just safety he was offering, but... Gods Raistlin, do you really want to go on like this? I've been scorned, sneered, and attacked by everyone we've met on this little quest, and you haven't been treated much better. To be accorded some measure of respect would be very welcome and, well..." He looked at his lover slyly.
"The power offered was tempting?" the human wondered aloud, smiling.
The Dark elf nodded, smirking a little.
"So why did you fight beside me in the end, when he so clearly wanted you to stand back?"
Dalamar shrugged. "I could see you were going to fight anyway, and I wasn't going to let you attack that thing by yourself. Besides-" he sighed "-it wasn't worth lying to you. There's been enough tension already."
He had hoped, though, that his admission would prompt Raistlin into revealing his own secrets, and finally end the silence hanging between them. Clearly, he had thought wrong, although the Dark elf thought he detected a brief flash of something behind his lover’s eyes, but it was gone before he could place it. He shook his head and returned to the original topic, "All the more reason what we should have told the others about the traitor. If he's going to Verminaard, who do you think are going to be the first ones he comes after? He knows I know, and most likely knows that you do too. There's enough danger here without adding to it."
Raistlin still disagreed, "Even admitting that revealing the traitor would have made a difference, what's the likelihood of anyone believing us? You said it yourself, they all hate us, Sturm particularly. If we point the finger it's our word against his, and whom do you think they'll believe? If anything, denouncing him would have put you in more danger, as you would be a suspect."
Dalamar dropped his face in his hands. His companion was right, but it was painful to wait here while their secrets might be being sold at that very moment.
"It's all academic anyway," Raistlin finished. "He's gone now, and it's probably too late."
The Dark elf's head snapped up at that. "No it isn't." He kicked back the blankets and got to his feet, moving towards the door.
"What-"
Dalamar opened the door and checked the corridor, empty. "I'm going to find him and make sure, one way or another, that he never tells anyone anything." Quickly, he slipped out of the cell.
A careful check in the draconian's cell found the guards dead at their post. The lack of noise meant that they had been taken by surprise, either due to drunkenness or because someone they thought an ally had attacked them. The room had been overturned, to make it look as though there had been a struggle, but the Silvanesti guessed the work was very recent. The corpses of the draconians had not crumbled yet.
The Dark elf picked up his pace and hurried down the corridor.
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Raistlin caught up with his two junctions later. Grabbing hold of the Dark elf's arm and spinning him around, he hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I told you." Dalamar tried to pull away, but the Red Robe held on.
"For someone who's professed such an interest in my wellbeing, you're not doing much better than I am," the human snapped. "What do you think the others will think if they come back and find us missing? Who do you think they'll suspect?"
The Silvanesti hesitated and Raistlin pulled on his robes, urging him to head back. With a resigned sigh, Dalamar nodded and they walked back to the woman's chamber.
Unfortunately, they weren't the first ones back. Gilthanas was already there and on seeing them, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Where have you been?" he demanded.
"Out," the dark-robed wizard answered; he was in no mood for this.
"What do you mean out-" the Qualinesti got to his feet and advanced.
The Dark elf closed the distance, staring down the other. "What does it matter what I say?" he hissed. "You'll believe whatever you like." Turning, he stormed back to the corner he and Raistlin had slept in and threw himself down on the bedding, scowling.
His companion sat beside him, wrapping himself in the blankets as his cough shook him.
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Eben came back shortly after, to the same interrogation from the Qualinesti prince. The man told him that he had fought the draconians in the next cell. He was just telling his story when the others arrived, and had to repeat it for their benefit. Then it was Gilthanas' turn. He was reluctant to speak at first, then finally told them.
"I returned to see if you mages were really as tired as they said." The look in the Qualinesti’s eyes told Dalamar that this was hardly the real reason, but he continued, "They must not have been. Both of them had gone."
Caramon got up, blind obedience and blind rage combined, but Sturm pushed him aside. "Is that true? Where were you?" The knight's hand was on the pommel of his sword.
"Why should we answer?" Raistlin said softly. "None of you trusts us, so why should you believe a word Dalamar or I say?"
They both stepped back as the Solamnic drew his sword, their own hands going to the pouches containing spell components. The Dark elf was glad that he had a chance to study his spellbook; this was not going to be an easy fight. He wondered if he might have been better off accepting the dragonarmy's offer after all.
The knight hefted his blade, pushed past a shocked Tanis and closed on the two mages. Quickly, so that Sturm wouldn't have time to attack, Dalamar and Raistlin cast at the same time.
The Red Robe cast a sleep spell, probably hoping to knock Brightblade out. It worked, but the elf’s choice of spell rendered it useless: The knight went down hard and then was hit by a barrage of magic projectiles, which woke him right up again. With a roar of rage, he lunged at the two magic-users, and they backed away quickly, trying to get enough distance to prepare another spell before Sturm reached them.
"STOP!" Tanis shouted, catching hold of his friend’s shoulder and dragging him to a halt. "Enough! We don't know who's the traitor here, but fighting won't help."
"You defend them?" The Solamnic was outraged. Dalamar's spell had hit the side of his face and the skin there was burnt red.
"We don't know if they are the ones who betrayed us." Tanis tried to calm him down. "We have no proof. Remember your vows, Sturm."
The knight sighed, rubbing his burnt cheek gingerly. Finally, he sheathed his sword, but not before he shot one final look of utter hatred at the two wizards.
Behind them all, and out of sight from anyone but Dalamar, Eben was smirking.
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No one slept well that night. The others were on edge, all wondering who the traitor was, and Dalamar for one found it hard to rest with Eben and Sturm at such close quarters.
They were woken at dead man's watch, the darkest hour before dawn. Tanis quickly went over the plan; they would all go and free the children, disguised as the women who brought the children breakfast. The men in the mines would fight their way free and meet up with the women near the mines. The companions would then bring the children to them and all of them would escape to the south.
Dalamar tried not to think of the thousand or so things that could go wrong with the plan, even without Eben. It was depressing enough as it was.
The Dark elf pulled on a ragged brown dress, scrunching up the front to give a more feminine appearance before lacing it up. It was roughspun, and he felt utterly ridiculous in it. Raistlin couldn't stop smiling at the sight of him. The Silvanesti shot him a look that said 'you don't look any better yourself'. It was quite true, although the human mage's dress was grey rather than brown and he had swathed himself in a torn cloak to hide his golden skin and strange eyes. He'd wrapped a scrap of cloth around the dragon's claw on his staff, making it look like any walking staff.
Finally, they were all ready to go, and Maritta led them up the stairs. The draconians who let them out didn't accompany them, perhaps because they had discovered the remains of their comrades.
Or perhaps not. When they reached the top of the stairs, Dalamar saw that the door leading out was guarded. It had to be more than coincidence. Hands on their weapons, they walked forwards.
"You're early this morning," one of the draconian guards remarked.
"It smells of thunder," Maritta answered and the Dark elf smiled. Not many people could tell such a bold-faced lie to a snarling draconian. "I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You'll frighten the children."
The draconian's version of a grin was twisted, and showed off row after row of far-too-sharp teeth. "Lord Verminaard's command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We're ordered to search you before you enter." The draconian looked from Goldmoon to Maritta to Dalamar, and the Dark elf ducked down as the creature looked at him. "That's going to be a pleasure, I'd say."
It would have been funny had the situation not been so serious, and the moment the draconian stepped towards him, the dark-robed wizard lashed out, driving the point of his dagger through the bottom of the creature's jaw and into its brain. The draconian fossilised instantly but the force of its movement drove it forwards to shatter noisily on the floor.
The other guards had been dispatched, and all had winced at the sudden noise.
"Never mind that!" Tanis snapped. "Into the playroom. Hurry!"
Dalamar paused to pick up his dagger from the mess of smashed stone, then hurried up his pace, glancing back to check that Raistlin wasn’t having problems. The younger mage seemed fine however.
"If anyone finds these bodies, it'll all be over," Caramon groaned.
"It was over before we began!" Sturm snarled, glancing back at the two mages, eyes glittering with suspicion. "We've been betrayed, so it's just a matter of time!"
"Keep moving!" Tanis called out sharply.
"Be very quiet," Maritta whispered. "Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She'll never recognise you. She's blind in one eye."
Pausing briefly for Caramon of open the huge double doors that led to the courtyard, the group move swiftly into the dark passage that led to the dragon's lair.
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Dalamar knew next to nothing of dragonkind. His knowledge amounted to the few texts he and Raistlin had managed to find, a handful of legends and kender tales, and the black wyrm they had fought in Xak Tsaroth. He did know though, that if the red dragon -Flamestrike- had been younger or less crippled, they would never have stood a chance. Not even with a dozen blue crystal staffs. The black dragon had been huge, but this creature was something else entirely. The lair she slept in was over a hundred feet long, and yet the dragon's tail still curled along the end wall, and her massive neck, scarred and pitted from thousands of battles, was bent back so that the massive head rested against the forefeet. The creature's head alone was larger than a wagon, and the teeth, yellowing and broken as they were, were still the size of Tanis's sword. Yes, had this creature been in her prime, they would all be dead. Fortunately, she wasn't. The massive wings were dry and cracked, rent from ancient battles long before Dalamar's father was even born, the red scales were faded and scarred. When she opened her eyes as the group came in, one was milky white.
"Is it time for breakfast already, Maritta?" The dragon's voice was low, seeming to come from her throat.
The woman quickly soothed the dragon and Flamestrike's eyes soon drifted closed again.
It was about the time when they were creeping past the dragon that Dalamar noticed an odd noise, just on the edge of hearing but growing louder. A low buzzing sound, like angry bees, that was quite unlike anything he had heard before. As the sounds increased, he wasn't the only one hearing it. The whirring sound came from Tanis, although judging by his expression he had no more idea what it was than they did. The noise grew louder still and the dragon beside them snorted and growled, shaking her heavy head at the sound.
The Silvanesti turned to Raistlin, but the human mage wasn't paying attention to him. He was clutching his staff tightly, and from where he was, the Dark elf could see that the crystal, swathed as it was in rags, was alight with a brilliant radiance. It was reacting to the presence of the dragon, but that meant...
The two wizards exchanged horrified looks and the human ran over to Tanis and pulled back his cloak.
"The sword!"
Of course, why had none of them realised? Kith-Kanan's legendary sword was better known as Wyrmslayer, and, like Raistlin's staff, it had been created for the sole purpose of killing dragons.
For once, he agreed with Half-elven; this was an abysmal time to remember.
"Or a very convenient time," Sturm added.
"This is not the time!" Tanis shouted over the increasing noise.
The dragon suddenly woke, the sound piercing even her sound slumber, and the first warning streamers of smoke emerged from her jaws as she spoke. "What have you brought Maritta? I hear a sound I have not heard in centuries, and I smell the foul scent of steel! These are not the women! These are warriors!"
Slowly the huge dragon started to raise herself up to attack, the half-elf drew his sword in response.
"Don't hurt her!" Maritta begged.
"I may not have any choice!" Although, but by the looks of things, it might not come to a fight after all. Once drawn, the sword shone with a blinding light and the dragon backed away from it. Taking Tanis' lead, Raistlin undid the cloth covering his staff, and the light from the crystal grew even brighter, filling the room and throwing everything into sharp contrasts of black and white.
"Run, get the children!" Half-elven shouted, he and the Red Robe moved forward, Dalamar following, backing the dragon far enough for Maritta and Goldmoon to get through to the playroom. The others followed quickly.
The human wizard took his eyes off the weakened dragon and looked over at his lover, the light from sword and staff glancing off his metallic skin and making his eyes glitter. "Are you staying?"
The Dark elf smiled and nodded, then he too turned away from the dragon as the others came back, herding a group of children, one of whom actually lunged at Tanis for attacking the dragon.
"Get them out of here!" the half-elf shouted.
Dalamar looked away from the gaggle and at the dragon, realising things were going to get ugly very quickly. The children were led out, some calling farewells to the old creature that had guarded them, but the dragon herself was not taking it very well, groaning and moaning as she relived whatever event had killed her own brood. Worse, even through the blinding light of the weapons, the Dark elf could see that Flamestrike's eyes were starting to blaze with rage, and smoke flickered through her broken teeth, a sure warning of the blasts of flame soon to come.
The Silvanesti took a step back, so did everyone else.
"Not my children!" The Flamestrike roared, her voice making the ground tremble.
"Leave, all of you," Raistlin whispered under the noise.
"What-" spluttered Tanis.
"No-" Sturm growled.
"I'm not-" Dalamar protested.
"There is little I can do against a red dragon, but /nothing/ that you can," the young mage cut them off. "I can buy us time."
The Solamnic looked about to argue, but Tanis grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back. The elven wizard paused, uncertainly, but Raistlin looked back at him and nodded. "Move back near the tunnel. When you hear me start to speak, run."
The Dark elf obeyed, occasionally glancing back. His lover still had his staff raised, but the light was no longer daunting the maddened dragon. She was just about to pounce when Raistlin cast his spell.
/"Dulak!"/
A globe of darkness covered the attacking dragon's head, blinding her completely and stopping her in her tracks. It was the same spell as the dragon of Xak Tsaroth had used, another from the spellbook the human had found there, a spellbook Dalamar couldn't cast from yet.
At the sight of what the spell did to his lover, the Dark elf wasn't sure he ever wanted to use that tome. Raistlin was doubled over, leaning against the Staff of Magius and coughing heavily.
Cursing both himself and his companion, Dalamar ran back, grabbed the younger mage, and dragged him away from the now wailing dragon.
"I thought I told you to stay back?" Raistlin's voice was hoarse, but the fit had passed.
"I though I told you to take care of yourself?" the Silvanesti retorted, but there was no venom in his voice and he couldn't help but smile.
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The sun had risen by the time they reached the courtyard, and the light was dazzling after the gloom of Flamestrike's lair. Dalamar only just had time to adjust to the change before another roar rang out over Pax Tharkas and the surrounding mountains. A dragon's roar and one from a very different creature than the one they had just left.
As he and Raistlin had suspected, the Dragon Highlord hadn't gone anywhere.
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The courtyard was a scene of chaos. Men, women, and children were charging around in the open, trying to find their families, someone had let the men out of the mines sooner than expected.
It was quite obvious who, and this time even Tanis and Sturm realised the truth, having seen Eben running for the mines just before bedlam had erupted.
Dalamar looked over the commotion. Elistan was trying to regain control but was failing. The Dark elf met Raistlin's golden eyes and the two mages nodded, there was nothing they could do here but die once the Dragon Highlord and his mount appeared, and if these fools wanted to stay and perish it was their business. Unfortunately, before they could move, the ground trembled in a horrifyingly familiar manner and Verminaard and his dragon reared out of Pax Tharkas.
The dragon was precisely the kind of creature the Dark elf had decided they could never stand a chance against. As large as -if not larger than- Flamestrike and with wings that eclipsed the sun, it circled the courtyard, letting its rider get a good look at the situation.
Dalamar suddenly found himself on the floor, his legs suddenly deciding against holding him up. Stubbornly fighting against the dragonfear that had crippled all those in the yard, he shoved himself to his feet. The despair was harder to shake, as was the realisation that this was as much his fault as it was anyone's. Grimly, he wished Raistlin had not stopped him from killing Eben; perhaps then they wouldn't be in this mess, in a crowded courtyard with a dragon ready to spring and rain death down on them.
The dragon circled once more, then landed on one of the fortress towers. The Silvanesti caught sight of the Dragon Highlord on the dragon's back, clad and helmed in black armour.
Raistlin caught hold of his lover’s shoulder and pointed. The elf had no problem in recognising Eben, who was running towards the gates of the fortress with a stranger in tow.
Dalamar smiled grimly. By Nuitari, he'd wanted to kill the traitor and now was the perfect chance. He wasn't the only one with that idea, both Tanis and Sturm were running after Eben, and Raistlin's eyes were narrowed. "I too have a score to settle with this man." The glitter in those golden eyes told the Dark elf that he was the subject of the score.
They caught up with Eben just as the moustached warrior grabbed him by the throat and threw him down, shouting in rage and raising his sword to behead the traitor. Pity, Dalamar thought. He'd wanted to do it himself, and beheading was a bit too quick. But what else did you expect from a Solamnic knight?
Suddenly, Sturm stopped. Eben’s companion, a strange man who might have had some elven blood in him -his face looked so timeless, stepped forward and caught hold of the knight's arm.
The dark-robed wizard stared at the man in shock; his shirt had been torn open during his and Eben's flight, revealing a green gem. But not a pendant or a necklace, this gem had been impaled in the stranger's living flesh. It was the size of a man's fist and glimmered strangely, one moment the colour of rotting leaves, the next of swamp grass, colours at once strange and repulsive -yet somehow unbelievably beautiful.
"I have never seen nor heard of magic like this!" Raistlin exclaimed, and Dalamar could only shake his head, wondering what kind of spell or artefact could force a jewel so deeply into a man, yet leave him alive.
The man flinched back and pulled his shirt closed, then backed away, running for the gates. Eben dragged himself to his feet and hurried after.
The Silvanesti lifted his hands. The traitor was close enough to risk a spell, and if nothing else, he wanted to give the bastard a scar to remind him of Dalamar Nightson.
The Red Robe covered the Dark elf's hand and shook his head. "Save your spells," he advised, nodding up at where Verminaard was shouting at the terrified people in the courtyard.
"And much good that will do," Dalamar growled; he doubted his spells could do much to Verminaard, let alone to his dragon, but Eben was out of range now anyway.
Caramon came running up. "Look out!" He pointed up at the massive stone wall above the gates.
A crack had opened in the mammoth blocks, and from the hole rained down boulder after boulder of granite, each at least the size of a horse. The defence mechanism of Pax Tharkas had somehow started to work, pounding tons of rock down.
Right on top of Eben.
Both he and the stranger were crushed under the hundreds of rocks that fell as the ancient system of defence activated. Clouds of dust were thrown up as the flagstones beneath their feet shattered from the blows.
Raistlin covered his face with his cloak and pulled away from the cloud, coughing. Dalamar didn't move, blinking in the stinging dust and staring at the place where the gates of Pax Tharkas had /once/ stood.
His lover had been right, it /would/ have been a waste of a spell.
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A deafening roar swept through the courtyard and the little group turned in time to see Verminaard raise his weapon -a heavy mace- to the skies, man and dragon roaring out their hate. "I will destroy the men. I will destroy the women! I will destroy the children!"
With a second, even louder roar, the red dragon took to the wing, clearly preparing to dive down and incinerate everyone in the courtyard.
Dalamar and Raistlin threw themselves behind one of the granite boulders in the probably futile hope of escaping the burning holocaust. The human buried his face in the Dark elf's shoulder and the latter closed his eyes, holding the young mage as tightly as he had in Xak Tsaroth, waiting for the dragonfire to sweep down and engulf them both.
A third roar exploded, but it didn't come from the Highlord's dragon. The Silvanesti looked back in time to see Flamestrike beat her way free of her lair and crash headlong into Verminaard’s mount. Clearly shocked by the unexpected attack, the younger red dragon rolled out of the way, unceremoniously dumping his rider to the ground before tearing off to attack the old female.
Flamestrike's attack had another, equally beneficial use. It had shocked the people in the courtyard out of their stupor. As one, they turn and ran for the unblocked southern gate. The appearance of a regiment of draconians did little to stop this; any foolish enough to approach the refugees were set upon.
All of this mattered little to either Dalamar or Raistlin; Verminaard’s plunge had dropped him close to them. The dark cleric had been dazed, but unharmed, and was quickly on his feet as the others closed on him.
"He is a cleric of the Dark Queen," the Red Robe whispered, "and he can call on her aid as Goldmoon calls on Mishakal, his powers will be far more deadly though."
His lover nodded. Still, he was not too worried. The servant of the dark goddess was alone and there were five of them -Tanis, Sturm, Caramon, Raistlin, and himself; fairly good odds.
The five of them circled the Dragon Highlord, stopping him from backing against a wall and trying to outflank him to attack. Verminaard didn't move, staying crouched down, his black iron mace in front of him. Slowly he turned, following them.
Dalamar slid around to the Highlord's back; with his dragon helm on, Verminaard’s vision was obscured, cut off to the sides. The Dark elf moved around, always staying at the cleric's back, never letting the man see him. The Silvanesti considered a spell, then decided against it; even a short spell like the one of the Sentinel ruins might give the Highlord enough time to attack, not to mention destroying the advantage of surprise. Quietly, Dalamar drew his dagger; the cleric wore little armour and the dagger was enchanted enough to punch through what he had on. The Dark elf crouched down, preparing to attack.
Verminaard moved first though, jumping out of his defensive position and grabbing Raistlin by the shoulder. Dalamar didn't hear the words he spoke, but the effect was horrifying. The young mage screamed as though in the claws of the Dark Queen herself, and sank to the ground.
Plan completely forgotten, the Dark elf lunged forwards, his only though to drive his dagger through the enemy’s shoulder blades and stop whatever spell he had cast. Unfortunately, Caramon, who sprang at the cleric with a deafening roar, blocked his way suddenly.
Verminaard turned almost casually and blocked the warrior’s attack, his counterattack catching the big man a glancing blow.
This time Dalamar did hear what he spoke. "Midnight." Not a spell but a command word, and one for a clerical artefact no less. The effect was immediate; Caramon was blinded, and the servant of Takhisis struck him down and turned to Tanis.
The elf drew back; Tanis and Sturm were attacking the dark cleric, and any spells he cast would hit them too; no matter how much he hated them, this was one fight they had to win. Instead, he knelt down next to Raistlin. The human mage was no longer screaming, but his face was locked in such a rictus of agony that Dalamar was loath to touch him in case he compounded the pain. When he looked back at the fray, it was not promising, Tanis had been thrown to the ground, and Sturm seemed to be frozen in place. Verminaard had his back to the Silvanesti, no doubt planning to kill the knight.
As much as the Dark elf would have liked to wait just a little longer, he knew this was one opportunity he was unlikely to have again. Leaving Raistlin's side, he crept as quickly and silently as he could towards the Dragon Highlord, then jumped at him, dagger outstretched.
The blade sank in the dark cleric's back, scraped his backbone, and slid under the shoulder blade. Verminaard gave a cry that was as much fury as pain and spun around, wrenching the handle of the dagger out of Dalamar's hands. The Dark elf jumped out of the way as the mace whistled past his ribs and backed away. Still holding the mace out to deter any further attacks, the cleric groped madly for the dagger handle, but seemed to be having trouble getting a grip on it.
Out of the way, the dark-robed elf raised his hands and starting whispering a spell, hoping the Highlord was too occupied to notice. It was little good, the moment the first syllables were spoken Verminaard abandoned his attempts at getting rid of the dagger in favour of this more pressing threat. Dalamar had to evade a second attack, losing his spell. The suddenness of the interruption was such that, for a moment, the Silvanesti was disoriented.
That moment was enough nevertheless. Verminaard caught him a vicious downcut on the shoulder, and stars exploded in front of Dalamar's eyes. Tears of pain stung his cheeks as he sank to his knees, his shoulder felt broken.
"Midnight." The darkness that fell was as deep and terrible as that the black dragon had cast on them, and then, like now, it was made far worse by the knowledge that he was being attacked.
Dalamar closed his useless eyes and scrambled backwards, his wounded shoulder screaming every time it was jarred. Everything was a blur of pain and darkness, broken only by the steady sound of Verminaard’s footsteps, far too close by. The Dark elf redoubled his efforts to get away. His foot caught on something, a stone or some such, and he fell heavily on his bad side. The pain was so intense he nearly passed out, rolling the other way and curling up instinctively against the agony.
The footsteps were closer now, then they were joined by a second pair.
Clinging stubbornly to consciousness, Dalamar wondered who would be so foolish as to attack.
Suddenly, so abruptly the Dark elf wondered if he was dreaming, the darkness lifted. Painfully he pushed himself up on his good arm.
Verminaard was some distance away; clearly, he had been mistaken in believing him so close by, and he wasn't alone. Goldmoon was facing him, one hand catching the Dragon Highlord's thick wrist. Somehow, she had broken the spell on him, on them all in fact, for Raistlin and the others seemed to be free of the dark queen's power. Caramon was still out cold though.
With a guttural roar of rage, the dark cleric threw the plainswoman to the ground, and raised his mace to crush her. Then froze, and with good reason, having been hit by Riverwind's arrows, Tanis's sword, and Raistlin's spell in the same moment. The Half-elf cursed as the human mage's magic scorched his arm.
Verminaard spun around to face them, grievously wounded, and Goldmoon got to her feet. Face as cold and hard as the statue of her Goddess, she took hold of Dalamar's dagger, still jutting out of the cleric's back, and drove it deeper still.
The servant of Takhisis fell to his knees, and the elven wizard saw blood dripping from the opening in his helmet, then Sturm raised his own blade and cut the Dragon Highlord's head from his shoulders.
At the same moment as his rider's death, the red dragon fighting Flamestrike was hurled against the side of a nearby mountain by the dying female, and at the same moment as blood burst from Verminaard’s body, the side of the mountain exploded into flames as both dragons died.
The silence after the din of the battle seemed almost absurd. The courtyard was almost empty; most of the people in it had left, fleeing south.
Dalamar knew very little of this. Now the adrenaline had worn off, his shoulder hurt more than ever. He was sitting, curled up and cradling his arm when he felt a touch on the side of his face. Looking up, he saw Raistlin, who was looking more than a touch worried.
"Your shoulder?"
The Silvanesti nodded, wincing as even that slight movement shot needles into his wounded flesh.
The human knelt down and undid the first few fastenings of the Dark elf's robes, loosening them enough to slide the fabric over his arm, baring the injury. Dalamar gave a snarl of pain and flinched away as Raistlin touched his shoulder.
"I'm checking to see if it's broken of not," the red-robed mage snapped impatiently, fingers probing the injury.
The elf bit his lip against the shocks even the lightest touch provoked.
"It's not broken," Raistlin finally reported. "It's sprained and you're going to have a lot of bruising, but nothing that can't be healed." He shot a meaningful look at Goldmoon.
The cleric of Mishakal nodded, laying her hands flat on Dalamar's wound. Again, he shuddered at the contact.
Her prayer was a bare whisper, soft and simple, but before long the Dark elf felt the pain start to recede and warmth spread throughout the aching muscles. By the time Goldmoon removed her hands, the rending agony was little more than a thin ache, and his head felt clear.
"Thank you," Dalamar said, standing up. He turned to Raistlin. "How about you? Are you hurt?"
The human wizard shook his head. "It was nothing more than a spell, and not one that did any permanent damage. I should be fine."
The Silvanesti rolled his eyes. In other words, yes, he was hurt, thank you for asking. He reached over to catch the younger mage's hand and paused. His own hand was covered in blood; it coated his fingers and nails, and ran up his wrist.
That reminded him. Dalamar smiled at Raistlin and went to where Verminaard’s body was hunched on the ground amidst a pool of blood, his black mace lying beside his outstretched hand. He pried his dagger from the dead Highlord's back. The weapon was covered with gore and the Dark elf made a mental note to buy new leather to wrap the grip, this one was soaked through.
As he worked the blade out of the knots of bone and muscle, the Silvanesti’s eyes fell on the dark cleric’s mace. He finally pulled the dagger free and wiped it as best he could on the dead man’s cloak, then walked over and picked the mace up.
While his vows to the Gods of magic prohibited him from using any weapons save the staff and dagger, there was no harm in simply handling other weapons.
"Already stealing from the dead?" Sturm sounded disgusted.
Dalamar turned around to face the knight, and gave a thin smile. "I saved you life, Brightblade. Remember that before you speak to me."
It might have been entirely accidental, and on other occasions, he might have cheerfully joined in, but he had saved the knight's life and Sturm knew it.
"And I am not raiding the dead. Look at this. The Gods took all clerical items with them when they left after the Cataclysm. So far, the only ones we have found are powerful artefacts such as the Disks or the crystal staff, objects made by godly hands. This-" Dalamar brandished the mace." -was made by human hands, and fairly recently too. The marks and scratches on it are not old."
Tanis shrugged. "What are you saying? I'm sure that Goldmoon could make something equally as powerful given time."
"Precisely," Dalamar continued. "/Given time/. Whoever made this had time, and knew his or her powers well enough to do so, that kind of knowledge alone takes time. Who knows how long the clerics of the Dark Queen have been walking the land?"
The dark-robed mage was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Tasslehoff, who came bounding up, chattering happily about a great chain and a red dragon and Nuitari knows what else. It was only when Half-elven stepped in that they got any sense from the kender.
One piece of information puzzled Dalamar; Tasslehoff told them that Fizban was dead, having fallen to his death. The Dark elf shared Raistlin's opinion that there was more to the old and supposedly mad mage than met the eye. He and the human wizard looked at each other, and the younger one shook his head slightly; he didn't think Fizban was dead either, especially when Tasslehoff had said he hadn't seen a body.
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It took a while to find everyone. Flint and Laurana had been helping Elistan herd people out of Pax Tharkas. Tika had been aiding Maritta find her own husband and children as they had all been separated in the chaos. Gilthanas had got to the edge of the wood to report to a group of Qualinesti scouts once he saw Verminaard killed. Once they were once again together, all that was left to do was to leave Pax Tharkas themselves before the army sent to Qualinesti got back. They left by the south gates, meeting up with the elven scouts and heading back.
Dalamar looked back at the fortress, the side of the mountainside was still smoking where the two dragons had crashed into it. Pax Tharkas had been left in the not-so able hands of a clan of gully dwarves that the dragonarmy had enslaved.
The Dark elf tore his eyes away and looked south towards the forest of Qualinesti. He somehow doubted his welcome would be any warmer this time around.

One chapter left to go!
Skull Bearer.
- 19
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- 21
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