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Evermore: The Gathering	By : RosaTenebrum Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 9663 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragonlance series, 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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CHAPTER 23

Under the clear blue sky, by the pink and green pond, Raistlin stood alone before the altar of Paladine for the third day in a row.

He did not know what else to do or where to go. He was sick of the heat and sick of the city, but most of all he was sick of how weak she made him. He wanted to leave but could not: not without her. She was in his thoughts day and night, waking and sleeping, and he did not think he could go on like this for much longer. His headaches had been getting worse, too, threatening to break his skull; they came at least once a day, and last night the nosebleed had returned. He was accustomed to pain, but pain doubled by inexhaustible longing was another thing altogether. He needed the magic. He needed her.

Drastic measures. Pretty soon. There was only so much a man could take.

He was still wrapped up in these thoughts and wondering about his next move, when he suddenly discerned footsteps crossing the lawn behind him, slow but determinate, coming his way. Another unforgivable sinner, sent by a cleric to do penance?

The steps stopped a little way away from him, as if in expectation of something. Irritated by the intrusion, he glanced to his right, and as he did, his heart gave a leap: it was Crysania.

A wild hope shot through Raistlin; he was suddenly certain, absolutely and positively certain, that everything was going to come right. She had come, just like he had known she would. Someone must have walked her to the Gardens. Who? Raistlin looked over his shoulder and unsurprisingly saw Gaspar Cloade standing at the end of the path, looking straight at him with crossed arms and not even trying to hide the displeasure on his face.

No greetings, not even a half-smile: sensing that Raistlin had seen her and apparently having a clear idea of where he stood, Crysania approached the altar with one hand out in front of her and then knelt at the rail running around it, at a careful distance from him. From the corner of his eye, his heart still beating with the surprise of the woman's sudden appearance, Raistlin watched her perform the ritual routine: the kissing of the pendant and the touching of the forehead, three times both. Didn't she ever tire of it? When finished, she placed her elbows on the handrail, put her palms together and stayed still.

"Well," Raistlin said quietly with a smile, turning his eyes to the statue of Paladine again. "This is a coincidence."

"It is no coincidence," Crysania hurriedly replied, her voice detached and professional. "It is Paladine's wish that I should be here today."

"Paladine - He has a way of bringing us together, hasn't He?"

She made no answer; her eyes were gazing into space, blank and fixed like a sleepwalker's, holding the only expression still available to them. Suddenly, she turned her head in his direction and simply said, in a colourless tone, "Kneel."

He was never going to do that: not in a million years would he bow his head to Paladine. But the next moment, contrary to every intention and all expectation, Raistlin found himself kneeling beside Crysania with a disjointed smile, half of contempt and half of amusement.

She waited, and once he was settled, she closed her eyes and started to pray. In a calm, papery voice she prayed for perseverance and patience for him, "for this man", in his penitence, because he had offended the Platinum Father, who was good and whom we should love above all things. Take aways his guilt, Paladine. Create in him a pure heart and renew within him an upright spirit. The words of the prayer mingled with the chirping of birds and the murmur of the water flowing in the fountain.

The situation was absurd. More to the point, it was ludicrous. After a time Raistlin stopped listening and instead surveyed Crysania carefully, his eyes sliding from her lovely neck to the rise of her breasts and the curve of her waist. She was chastely covered in her full-length temple gown with long sleeves and a boat-shaped neckline, and also her hair was different today, hanging in a gleaming black plait across one shoulder. Her mouth opened and closed as she pleaded to the Platinum Father whose benevolent stone face looked down upon them from the heights, and she went on without stopping, without looking aside. Seeing and hearing her like that was almost too much to bear. Stifling a sigh, Raistlin leaned and elbow on the rail and, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, stared down at the white stone without seeing it.

Eventually she finished, and they were quiet for some time; only the birds and the water in the fountain could be heard.

It was Crysania who spoke first. "I hope you will take these words to heart and live accordingly."

He turned to look at her with a smile hovering about his lips. "With you watching over me, how could I fail?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Again, it's not me you should be thanking. Only Paladine can grant us mercy."

Raistlin was quiet for a moment longer, observing Crysania's perfect face and her smooth hands resting on the rail, one on top of the other. "Can we drop the act now?" he said then, speaking in a low, intense voice, holding his eyes fixed upon her. "We both know why you're here."

Crysania's eyebrows rose imperceptibly, but she managed to appear unaffected when she turned her face towards him. "I am here," she said with emphasis, "to do my duty as a cleric."

"Right. Yes. I think I've heard that one before." He knew these words would hurt her: a reminder of weakness and blame.

But she stood up, keeping her composure, and said without emotion, "That was before. This is now. I now see as I was meant to see."

Raistlin stood up too, calm and resolute. "In that case," he said, taking a cautious step towards Crysania, and then another, "did you see the dreams? Did Paladine show them to you?"

"What dreams?" There was a frown on Crysania's face now and her voice carried a cautious tone; it was fraught with worry that Raistlin should mistake her question for interest in his person.

He looked over his shoulder at Cloade before replying and saw that the secretary was standing in the same spot, wearing the same displeased expression. Raistlin did not think the man could hear them, but even if he did, there was no time to waste anymore. He had given her space. He had given her a chance to think, and now the moment had come to take the next step. "The dreams I had, in the Abyss," he answered, deliberately reticent and gauging Crysania's reaction, prepared to change tactic at the least sign of trouble.

She winced a little at the mention of the Abyss. At first she did not speak, but when he did not elaborate, she asked reluctantly, "What did you dream of, then?"

Raistlin let the silence stretch, then replied softly, using her own words from three days ago, "As if you don't know."

Emotion rippled across Crysania's face: she tried to fight it, but it lingered, leaving her vulnerable and easy to handle. Raistlin took yet another step closer to her. She flinched as she sensed his movement, but didn't back away. "Paladine kept me alive. I did not die, Crysania. I slept. Don't you wonder why?"

She shrugged helplessly; he didn't pause to give her the chance to speak, but carried on, all the time approaching her in slow steps. "Two years ago, Paladine brought us together for a purpose. I believe that, just as you do. And now He has brought us together for the second time, because something was left unfinished."

Raistlin spoke quickly and quietly, with a sense of urgency that did not allow interruptions. But the way Crysania reacted to his words was not what he had expected, and he was starting to feel a growing sense of alarm at her appearance. She simply stared, with her mouth slightly open, and there was an expression on her face Raistlin had never seen before: it was something like bottomless horror, profound disbelief and painful hope combined. In any case, it was very far from what it ought to have been and it upset him, even as he continued to talk to her, now more sure than ever of his ground.

"Crysania, sweetness. We never had a proper chance, and Paladine knows that. But I'm here now. I'm here." He was almost at an arm's length from the woman now, and he stopped there, figuring that was the closest she would let him, for now.

She did not respond for a while, but when she did, her answer came in a slow, horrified whisper. "You cannot be serious."

Raistlin sized up the woman, frowning. What was this now? Some silly feminine way of punishing him? "Listen. I couldn't be more serious, and neither could Paladine. He looked into my dreams and He saw it was time. I had learnt the first lesson, but there was still another one to be had."

The danger inherent in these words did not worry him. He knew perfectly well that at any moment Paladine might speak to Crysania and expose the true grounds for his release, but if that happened, well, he would simply fashion a fitting explanation. He had long since ceased to be amazed by his lying skills: he could not even remember when he'd first done it as a child, probably to his brother, faster and easier than he ever would have thought himself capable of. What worried him more, what was really starting to annoy him, was the unresponsiveness Crysania continued to show.

"Do you see what I'm saying?" Raistlin insisted, trying to tamper down the bluntly impatient note creeping into his voice. He did not like the look on her face. It was so different, so unlike her, and it made him feel as though the real woman had retreated into herself and he was looking at a stranger who had come out to oppose him. As Raistlin watched, she pressed a palm on her forehead and shook her head, as if to say This is not happening, and by doing that she set off a whirl of images spinning through his mind, images that he did not want to look at but which nagged at the back of his mind like the beginnings of a headache, just beneath his awareness, resembling something like fear: Her hands in the air, warning him to keep his distance. Her fingers curled around her pendant, her whole body trembling: Stay. Away. From me. And another image, completely unbidden yet clear as day, a vision that had never before crossed his soul: her hand searching for his in the Abyss. Please don't leave me.

Distracted, Raistlin forced his attention back to the present, his momentary confusion mixing with a growing anger. That was then and this was now - she'd said it herself, so why the shock in her face, why the resistance? Did she not understand that he was offering to her what she had wanted all along and still did? He had to struggle to maintain his calm, to not grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to keep his voice down. "Crysania," he said slowly and deliberately, leaving no room for debate. "You know as well as I do that this was meant to be. And if you -"

"Please, just stop," she cried all of a sudden, cutting him off. Her mouth worked silently for a moment, looking for words, and when she spoke again it looked like she had to force the words out. "I don't know what you think this is, but I came to say farewell."

Raistlin stared at the cleric, struck speechless. This was not how it was supposed to go. "What do you mean?" he asked, hating the insecurity and dread in his tone.

She took a breath. "You wanted an audience, I gave you one. You promised to atone, and I can see you've kept that promise. As far as I'm concerned, our business is done." She spoke the words with resolution, but there was a tremble in her voice.

Not able to believe what he had just heard, Raistlin scoffed incredulously. "Just like that?"

She looked at him like he had just made the worst of jokes. But the sadness on her face passed, and she raised her chin and said, "Goodbye, Raistlin."

"You don't mean that."

Crysania paused for a split second, but then she turned towards the path, saying in a quiet voice, "I've got to go."

And she did. She walked away and left him, and Raistlin could only watch her go, terrifyingly, unpleasantly close to being at a complete loss for words and alternatives. It took all he had to restrain himself from sprinting after her, and then what, he had no idea.
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Evermore: The Gathering