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Sins of the Past	By : Midnight16 Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1723 -:- 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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Chapter 3
Raistlin was awoken from his deep sleep by an agonized scream. Standing up hurriedly, the spidery words of magic coming to his mind, lest he need to defend himself, he quickly looked about the room. Nothing was out of the ordinary... nothing was out of place... everything was as it should be... but than, where had that horrid scream come from? As the mage glanced around at the black marble of the room and seeing his discarded robes, he suddenly remembered why he had been sleeping in the kitchen. He quickly looked around for Dalamar and upon seeing the elf, froze in horror.
Dalamar writhed on the floor, small tortured whimpers escaping his bruised lips. “No father, please stop! Someone, help me! Goddess help me!” Another screamed filled the room, sending Raistlin’s senses into overdrive and his anger effectively over the edge. He moved swiftly to Dalamar’s side and placed a comforting hand on his chest.
“Dalamar, wake up! It is but a dream, snap out of it!” He thought the touch of his hands would be enough to wake the elf from his tormented slumber, but Raistlin’s touch only seemed to worsen the dream. Dalamar screamed, clutching at the mage’s hand. He sat up, his eyes open wide with unseen horror. “Dalamar...” Raistlin thought to sigh with relief when his lover finally snapped out of the horrific dream, but that sigh soon turned into a scream as he was flung across the room by the panicked elf.
Raistlin’s frail body hit the spice cabinet that framed the opposite wall with a bone-shattering crash. The cabinet slowly swayed back and than forward, spilling its contents atop the prone mage. Glass jars and pots came crashing down on and around his exposed body, shattering on impact.
Dalamar looked about, curious as to how he had come to be laying in the middle of the kitchen floor, his robes scattered on the floor beside him. ‘The dream, it was only a dream.’ Dalamar sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Will it ever end?’ Dalamar stood and was gathering his robes when he noticed something quite peculiar; there were two robes here, not just one. He found this rather odd, questioning the meaning of it, but all questions were soon halted by a muffled moan from the far corner of the room. Dalamar turned slowly and found himself immobilized bye the shockingly horrific scene before him. His hands flew to his mouth, stifling a gasp. Dalamar stared in dismay, for there, lying in a pool of crimson, was his beloved master. Raistlin lay at the foot of the spice cabinet, bruised, bloodied, and all but broken. Shattered glass and pottery lay around and atop his naked form, restricting any sort of movement what so ever.
“Shalafi!” Grasping the other rob firmly in hand, Dalamar ran across the semi-small room and knelt at his master’s side, covering him with his robe. “Shalafi, are you alright?” The mage raised his head at the sound of his elves’ lovely, albeit worried voice. Dalamar gasped and instinctively shrank away, taken aback by the state of his lover. One of Raistlin’s eyes was swollen shut and there was a large gash on his upper shoulder. Raistlin coughed once, fresh blood covering his already stained lips.
“Do I look alright to you, apprentice?” Judging by his tone, the mage was not happy. Dalamar blushed at the stupidity of his question. He bowed his head meekly.
“Forgive me shalafi, it’s all my...” the elves’ apology was cup short by Raistlin’s raised hand.
“Pack your bags Dalamar, we are going to Silvanesti.”

* * *
Dalamar emerged from the tower and squinted in the bright sunlight. As the cool autumn wind blew from the east, caressing his face and neck as would a lover, it promised of colder and more horrible things yet to come. Dalamar closed his eyes and listened to the world around him. The birds, the wind in the trees, the trickle of a near by stream... all reminded him of home. Thoughts of his home flooded his mind, countless rivers of emotion flowing into the depths of his soul and filling him with a great feeling of drowning, drowning in his own sorrow. Silent, crystalline tears spilled down his cheeks and fell to the ground in soundless remorse. His past had come back to haunt him, as he always knew it would... but this time Dalamar knew it would be different.
A second dark, hooded figure stepped from the shadowed interior of the tower. The master mage winced in the light, pulling his hood farther down to cover his eyes. Raistlin shivered slightly in the late autumn chill, pulling his cloak more tightly around him. From across the courtyard, Raistlin watched Dalamar, his hidden eyes sparkling with adoration. ‘My how you have grown apprentice. You are no longer the hollow shell of bitterness you were when you first came to me. You have regained yourself, but you are still haunted by your past and its memories.’
Raistlin turned then to the tower door to speak the spectral head that now floated just within the doorway awaiting its orders. “Allow none by my apprentice or myself entrance to my tower while I am away. Guard it as if it were your own, for if I come back and it is not precisely as I left it, you will wish that you had been sentenced to hell.” Not even waiting for a reply from the apparition, Raistlin turned on his heel to join Dalamar at the other end of the courtyard. Slowly he reach out to him.
Dalamar turned as a thin-fingered hand brushed his shoulder lightly. The elf could not conceal the small, agonized look in his eyes. Rasitlin shook his head, his eyes shimmering out from under his velvet hood like golden gems.
“Dalamar, do not fret. This will all be over soon.” Raistlin raised his head, his hood falling back slightly to reveal his beautiful hourglass eyes. He looked at Dalamar, his eyes full of worry and compassion.
“All is ready for our departure, Shalafi.” Dalamar bowed low, averting his eyes from the heart-wrenching look on Raistlin’s face. “All I await is your order.” Raistlin sighed inwardly.

“You needn’t come if this hurts you so, Dalamar. I am perfectly capable of doing this, and even so, you may not want to be there when I brake him.” Raistlin smiled slightly. “It will be quite...” He paused dramatically, pursing his lips as if to find a suitable word to describe his intent. “... well let us just say it will not be pretty. So it is entirely alright if you stay here, I shan’t be gone long.” Dalamar squared his shoulders and, with a look of shear determination, shook his head.
“No Raistlin.” Dalamar looked into the concerned eyes of his master and felt himself falter, felt himself again falling into a pit of utter despair as the look in Raistlin’s eyes changed from concerned to astonished.
“No?” Raistlin was taken aback, Dalamar had never said ‘no’ to him before. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You say the words no and my given name in the same sentence, apprentice?” Dalamar took a step forward.
“Forgive me, but no Shalafi.” The elf knelt before his master. “ I will not let you go alone. I cannot let you fight my battles without me by your side.” Raistlin looked down at Dalamar, allowing his eyes to be seen from under his hood. His eyes glowed with a warm and loving light that was meant for Dalamar alone. Slowly he nodded.
“Very well my apprentice, but do be careful and watch what you call me and where you do it.” Placing a gentle hand atop Dalamar’s head, Raistlin ruffled his hair lightly. “Go. Go tend the horses and see that all is ready for our immediate departure.” The elf rose to his feet and moved toward the horses. He walked slowly away from the dark figure of his master, all but alone in his mind’s eye. A hand on his shoulder stopped Dalamar just short of his chestnut horse. Pale, gold arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him to his master’s taunt body. As Rasitlin spoke into the elf’s ear, his hot breath made Dalamar shiver.
“Just because I’m a little cold outside the tower, never think that I do not still love you, my sweet nymph. I will always love you, but we should save face when we are amongst the people of the outside world. Remember Dalamar, I am only as good as my threat and my magic... I would never win in a fair fight. People must fear me, if not for their own safety... than for ours.” Dalamar nodded as tears began to stream down his face at the soft words of his master. The tears fell softly onto the mage’s gold flesh and he pulled away slowly, leaving Dalamar to his inner turmoil in peace. ‘If nothing else, you are strong Dalamar. We will get through this. By Takhisis, your father will pay for what he has done to you. I will protect you my dark, little nymph. Rest assured of that.’
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Sins of the Past