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Nocturnale	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1934 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
I own nothing, and the poisons belong to George R. R. Martin. Sorry George, I couldn't help it.

Nocturnale
Chapter three - To Despair
We get these pills to swallow
How they stick
In your throat
Tastes like gold
-No One Knows, Queens of the Stone Age
The silence dragged on endlessly. Normally, Raistlin would have prized and enjoyed the rare peace, but it was not to be. There wasn't simply one element that spoiled the silence. It was the palpable air of tension that filled the room; the low, static crackle of the whispers, not speaking, but warning him that something was very, very wrong. The personal tension between himself and Dalamar wasn't helping either. The Dark elf hadn't spoken since Raistlin had rebuffed his questions; he had left the small table and was standing by the door, staring across the room but clearly seeing none of it. The other companions avoided him, no doubt still stunned by the Silvanesti’s treachery regarding Sturm.
The Red Robe wondered what would happen to the Solamnic. Most likely, he would be thrown out. It would seem like a lot of work for a meaningless revenge, but Raistlin had a feeling the Silvanesti had known the knight well enough to know that such disgrace would be -to him- worse than a flogging.
The human mage shot a glance at Dalamar. The Dark elf was still motionless, staring at the far wall with no expression. Raistlin bit his lower lip, feeling the guilt rise up and bite at his soul. His lover was hurting, and hurting badly, and he was responsible for much of it because he hadn't trusted Dalamar with his secret. Nevertheless, it wasn't a matter of trust at all. Had he told Dalamar, the exile would probably be in the exact same state, and he, Raistlin would be feeling guilty for having told him!
The younger mage sighed; perhaps he should tell Dalamar he had reconsidered. If his silence was going to hurt the Dark elf that much, then perhaps it would be better to tell the truth, at least then they could forget about it and move on. But they couldn't, could they, because that problem had a name, and it wouldn't end until Fistandantilus was dead. Assuming the Silvanesti even believed him, or didn't find something else to distrust him about. How could he reveal anything to one who had himself admitted that he would always think the worse of him, simply by instinct?
Another sigh. Raistlin rubbed his forehead and pulled out the spellbook he had found in Xak Tsaroth. Hopefully, he could get his mind off that topic with no answer.
After re-reading the same page for the third time and still not having any idea what Fistandantilus had written, the human mage gave up, closed the book and stared out of the window, feeling very miserable. The sight of the crumbling skyline of Tarsis did nothing to improve his spirits.
Nor did the sound of footsteps as someone walked over to him. The only way /that/ could mean anything good was if it was Dalamar coming to sooth things over, and that was too unlikely to hope for.
If it was his brother, things were going to get ugly.
He focused on one of the windowpanes, moving his head to the side so he could see the reflection of who had dared disrupt his brooding. Not Caramon, thank the Gods, but not Dalamar either -more's the pity. It was Laurana.
"What do you see when you look far away like that?" The girl's voice was falsely curious, and Raistlin could hear the undercurrent of fear beneath it.
The Red Robe didn't turn around, but continued staring out of the window. The girl had remained a mystery to both himself and Dalamar, although that was perhaps simply because she was rarely around them and they'd had better things to do that talk to her. And to her credit, Laurana had returned the favour, leaving them alone. When they had been forced to deal with her, Raistlin had found her unfailingly polite, if very much afraid of his lover. Now would be an excellent time to find out more about the daughter of the Speaker of Suns. The knowledge might come in useful one day, and at the very least, it would be enough to get his mind out of the groove it was carving.
Even if the subject wasn't any more positive.
"What do I see?" he spoke at last, turning to see her face. "I see time as it affects all things. Human flesh withers and dies before my eyes. Flowers bloom, only to fade. Trees drop green leaves, never to regain them. In my sight, it is always winter, always night."
The shock in Laurana's face was interesting. Was it a honest emotion, or had she simply been too sheltered in Qualinesti, and would react to any tale of horror in the same fashion?
"And-and this was done to you in the Towers of High Sorcery? Why? To what end?"
Unbidden, the memory of a long-ago night returned, Dalamar's voice cold and angry as he spoke: 'He takes away any pleasure you might find, and after you have served your purpose, you conveniently disappear, and he doesn't even have to dirty his saintly white robes to do it.'
Almost as if thinking his name had summoned him, the Dark elf snorted loudly, "They never told him." Those grey eyes darkened. "And he never tells anyone."
The Qualinesti princess shivered under Dalamar's gaze, although Raistlin could have told her she was lucky; he had seen the Dark elf with far more vicious expressions on his face.
"Never tell anyone of what?" she hesitated.
"His Test." The dark-robed elf detached himself from the wall, and walked over to them slowly.
Laurana looked visibly alarmed by the Dalamar’s sudden proximity, and Raistlin wondered how many horror stories featuring Dark elves she had been fed. The Sturm fiasco had no doubt only reinforced this. Still, despite her obvious fear, she stayed put. Either she was brave enough to make the effort to ignore the exile’s presence, or what she had to say was too important to allow her to be scared off. Perhaps both. The only effort Laurana made to hide her fear was to bow her head, allowing strands of her long blond-brown hair to fall over her face, hiding it.
There was a long moment of silence, until finally the girl could hold herself in no longer and stammered out, "I- I meant- can you see the future? Tanis told me your mother was -what do they call it?- prescient? I know that Tanis comes to you for advice sometimes..."
And the next time he did that, Raistlin would explain /exactly/ why personal matter were kept that way. But then again the Half-elf wasn't good at keeping quiet about people's pasts. He looked up at Dalamar, whose lip was curled.
The Red Robe hesitated a moment. In truth, he didn't know if he could see the future or not. Certainly not like his mother, who could be lost to visions for weeks at a time, but what else could explain the whispers? The Test must have touched something within him, some untapped potential that murmured warnings and fragments of the future. Perhaps Laurana was right.
Of course, he wasn't about to admit that.
"The Half-elf comes to be because I, unlike most of the others in this menagerie-" He nodded at Dalamar to reassure the Dark elf that he was excluded from the generalisation "-have the ability to think beyond wondering where my next meal is coming from." A pointed look at Caramon.
This was true enough, and although he hadn't answered Laurana's question, the girl would probably not notice.
"But -what you said. Some of us may not see each other again. You must have foreseen something! What-I must know! What it... Tanis?"
Raistlin felt more than saw Dalamar's narrowed eyes. "I don't know," he said finally. "I cannot say."
"But-"
The human glowered at Laurana until the girl dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"So," he changed the subject, "Tanis told you about my mother."
The Qualinesti nodded, clearly hoping that he would let slip something if she kept talking to him. "He said she had the gift of foresight. She could look into the future and see images of what would come to pass."
Raistlin snorted; some gift that had turned out to be. "Half-elven should learn to keep his mouth shut about people's private lives," he spoke scathingly.
Dalamar pulled up a chair over to sit down beside him, ignoring Laurana's alarmed glance.
The human mage was silent for a moment, thinking how best to bring his sister into the conversation. It would be interesting to see what the elfmaiden, clearly so smitten with Tanis, would make of the half-elf’s old love.
"Yes," he started. "She was a seer, much good it did her. The first man she married was a handsome warrior from the northland. Their passion died within months, and after that, they made life miserable for each other. My mother was frail of health even at the best of times, and they were poor, living off what her husband could earn with his sword, and the birth of their daughter didn't help matters either way."
"Their daughter?" Laurana enquired.
Raistlin hid a smile. "My half-sister." He watched the Qualinesti closely. "Kitiara."
The girl's voice was tight. "Kitiara... She was your sister?"
He nodded. "Yes, older than Caramon and I by eight years. Very much like her father, I believe. As beautiful as he was handsome. Resolute and headstrong-" jealous and bitchy "-warlike, strong and fearless-” crafty, cunning, and all too happy to sacrifice others to her whims. "Her father taught her the only art he knew –that of warfare. He began going on longer and longer trips, and one day vanished completely."
The human paused a moment, feeling his breath snag, a telltale hint of an impending coughing fit. The feeling passed quickly, but the warning was clear. Since there were none of the inn's staff around and he himself would like to see how much more information he could get from Laurana, he sighed and resigned himself. "Caramon!"
The big man turned from where he'd been talking to Tika at the sound of his brother's piercing hiss. "Raist?"
Raistlin personally thought that, if his brother wanted to improve their relations, the first thing he could do would be to dispense with that incredibly irritating nickname. "It is time for my drink, or do I have to remind you of everything?"
The big man flushed. "No, Raist." And hurried off to warm a kettle of water.
Laurana hesitated, then continued, "What happened after that? Did Kitiara..." She stumbled over the name and Raistlin's lips twitched. Hook, line, and sinker.
"She left home when she was fifteen, following her father's example. She earned her living her living by her sword, and had little problem finding mercenary work. Oh she returned every so often, to see how we were getting along, and one day, she brought Tanis along." Raistlin saw the elfgirl flinch at the reference. "That was when we met him for the first time."
"We?"
"Most of those here, although I didn't meet Dalamar until a few years later." The human mage looked over at the Dark elf, who smiled back. "We travelled together with Flint, before he retired from metalsmithing. Soon however, it was time to separate." Oh yes, it had been time. Raistlin still couldn't bring himself to forgive any of the others for what they had done. "Tanis suggested they meet up again after five years."
"And you did as he said?" Laurana asked. "He was your leader, even then?"
The Red Robe nodded. "Yes, he was. He is a skilled leader, quick-thinking, intelligent,"-relatively speaking-"creative, and unlike the others, he knows that a leader must sometimes think with his heart, not his head."
"I notice you leave out yourself and-" She shot a glance at Dalamar, who rolled his eyes.
"Sweet Nuitari, girl, stop look at me as it I'm going to eat you!" He shook his head in despair. "And no, we do not follow Tanis. For the moment we are simply travelling in the same direction as the rest of you."
The Qualinesti elfmaiden didn't appear in the least bit comforted by those words, and the moment was interrupted by Caramon bringing the kettle over.
Raistlin thanked the big man idly, and watched as Laurana backed away, hurrying back to Elistan. After shooing his brother away, he turned to Dalamar. "What did you make of her?"
The Dark elf smirked. "She's been listening to too many horror stories."
The human laughed, and choked as his cough strung iron bars through his lungs. Taking a sip of his tea, he continued, "Seriously now."
Dalamar thought it over. "She’s quite besotted with Half-elven, that's clear, but did you notice she doesn't seem to blame him for sleeping with Kitiara?"
The human mage nodded. "Nor does she seem to blame Kitiara, not really. It may be that she blames herself."
"The way she acted in Pax Tharkas, I'm not surprised," the exile snorted. "Well, if nothing else we've gathered some blackmail material."
Raistlin smiled into his cup, raising an eyebrow at the Dark elf. "And what was this I heard about you eating her? Should I be jealous? You did seem rather interested when we saw her in Qualinesti."
Dalamar shot him an incredulous look, then laughed when he saw that his lover was only teasing. "Perhaps I was getting revenge." He grinned. "After all, I saw the way you were looking at Gilthanas."
This time the human choked on his tea, the hot liquid burning his windpipe. He coughed, and his companion slid his chair closer, reaching over to rub his back. The Red Robe swallowed, blinking stinging eyes, then chuckled and leant over, resting his head on his lover's shoulder, smiling as he felt Dalamar start to stroke his hair. He felt rather grateful to Laurana; if anything, the elfgirl had managed to diffuse the tension that had been so unbearable earlier. Raistlin slid an arm around Dalamar's back, lifting his head to kiss the Dark elf. This kissed back happily.
Though the stress between them had vanished, the feeling of danger filling the air had, if anything, increased. The whispers in the Red Robe’s mind had died to a dull susurration, a wordless murmur of warning.
Dalamar took hold of the human wizard’s shoulders and pulled him close, holding him tightly. Raistlin slid his arms around the Dark elf's neck, silently grateful for the offered comfort in the unnatural silence.
And suddenly, without warning, that very silence shattered into a thousand shards of sounds. The two mages managed not to jump at the deafening horn blast, but pulled away from each other, going to the window and looking out.
These were not the horns of Tarsis, although these too were now wailing, the sound nearly drowned by the all-too-familiar brassy roar of the horns of the Dragonarmies.
"We /were/ followed," Dalamar breathed.
Raistlin nodded. "I knew as much." What he hadn't known, though, was the sheer /size/ of the host that was even now speeding towards Tarsis. Hundreds of dragons, the red breed that had burnt Solace to the ground and nearly killed them all in Pax Tharkas.
Gods, they couldn't have killed even that one, how were they to stand against the numbers streaming from the sky?
Dalamar laughed, a cold, mirthless, despairing sound. Raistlin tore his eyes away from the horrific army and stared at the Dark elf, stroking his black hair soothingly.
"To think," the Silvanesti spat bitterly, "that for so long I wished to see this place burnt to the ground. My wish has been granted, and we will burn with it!"
The red-robed wizard pulled his lover's head down against his shoulder, stroking his hair and back until the Dark elf started to calm down.
"This is hardly the time!" Riverwind's voice cut in. The human mage glowered at him. The Plainsman hated them both and made no secret of his feelings.
"What is it?" Elistan broke in, looking bewildered.
"The Dragon Highlord, attacking the city," Riverwind answered.
The first dragons crested lazily over the city walls, fire blazing from their jaws, and Dalamar dragged Raistlin away from the window as the first shockwave hit the building, shattering the glass to fragments. Goldmoon cried out as a shard lacerated her hand.
"We've got to get off this floor, back to ground level!" Caramon shouted over the roar as the flames spread.
The Plainsman nodded. "Bring the knight's sword and the other weapons. If Tanis and the other's are-" The words 'still alive' hung in the air like lead. "-If Tanis and the others escape, they'll return here. We'll wait for them."
"Excellent decision!" the Red Robe spat. "Especially since we have nowhere else to go!"
Riverwind ignored him. "Elistan, get the others downstairs. Dalamar and Raistlin, stay here a moment."
The two mages shared a glance. Raistlin could see the edge of worry in the Dark elf's grey eyes; he was probably wondering if Riverwind was going to attack them as Sturm had, branding them traitors.
But the Plainsman made no move to draw his sword. "Our best chance, the way I see it, is to stay inside, barricade ourselves inside the inn." He looked at Dalamar with narrowed eyes. "You've deceived us once, Dark elf, but if you lie again we'll all die, including you. Now tell me, is there any way out of this city?"
The Silvanesti looked back out the broken window to where the dragons were laying waste to Tarsis. The screams of the dying were deafening. "No. I can't see how we can get out of this. The streets are a death-trap and, even supposing we split up and somehow made it out, the Dragonarmies would have surrounded the city by now." Raistlin could see the Dark elf's jaw working as he came to the inevitable conclusion.
"We can't be taken alive," the human wizard whispered the words they were all thinking, feeling a ball of lead lodge in his stomach. Dalamar's hand tightened painfully on his. The words were sickening, horrific, and completely true, and the knowledge of this made it far worse. So this was it then, the end.
Riverwind's voice shook when he spoke, "We'll hold out as long as we can, but when we know we can last no longer-" the Plainsman broke off, his hand going to the hilt of his knife.
The human mage shook his head. "There will be no need for that; I have herbs. A little bit in a glass of wine, very quick, painless." He sounded calmer than he felt, only his shaking hands betraying his emotions.
"Are you certain?" Riverwind asked.
Raistlin nodded, not trusting his voice a second time.
The Plainsman started at him, then at Dalamar, then back down at his dagger. Then he in turn nodded. "Very well." And went down the stairs as the sounds of death grew louder.
The two mages didn't move or speak, their hands still clasped together. Then, they slid into each other's arms, each holding the other tightly, as if daring even death to separate them. Raistlin closed his eyes, nuzzling Dalamar's neck. It seemed so unbearably selfish to be glad that the Dark elf was here with him, but it was true. To face this alone...
Dalamar’s hand tilted his chin up and the Dark elf kissed him, slowly, tenderly, with the sweet intimacy they so cherished. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
The Red Robe shook his head, combing his fingers through his lover's dark hair. "We would have come this way anyway, you know that. This is not your fault."
The Dark elf sighed, not disputing the point. "Still, to end like this..."
The human mage didn't answer, holding his friend close, forcing the thoughts out of his mind and focusing on Dalamar. No matter what happened after this, right here and right now they were here. The warmth of his companion body, the shift and play of his muscles under those black robes, all these Raistlin committed to memory as he lifted his head and kissed his lover again, cutting off his words.
The Dark elf sighed against the human’s lips, opening his mouth to the other's tongue before feeling Raistlin do the same. They kissed each other thoroughly before breaking apart, lips slightly swollen.
They stayed close, still holding each other, almost sharing breath, eyes locked. "Look for me," Dalamar whispered, silver eyes soft and liquid. "When this is over... look for me there."
Raistlin closed his eyes, resting his head on his friend’s chest, unable to speak. He nodded.
The Dark elf ran a finger along the younger mage's forehead, over the bridge of his nose, brushing feather light over his lips and chin. "Will you take the mixture you offered the Plainsman?"
The younger wizard shook his head. "I'm not strong enough to survive such a battle. I will die within the magic."
Dalamar's smile was thin and pained as he ran his fingertips over his lover's hollow cheek. "Where you belong," he murmured. "Go without fear, I will be there to meet you."
With one final kiss, they pulled away from each other reluctantly, and scrambled down the shaking stair to join the others in their last fight.
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The inn kitchen was filled with dust and choking ash thrown up by the dragons' passing. Raistlin coughed and covered his mouth in an effort to stave off another coughing fit. The thought almost made him smile. Fistandantilus would be /so/ disappointed.
There was no point in speaking of that now though, after all, it would soon cease to matter.
A blast of smoke came through one of the broken windows, and the mage doubled over as it filled his lungs, coughing and hacking until he could barely stagger over to the pitcher of wine Riverwind had left out. Wiping flecks of blood from his lips, he took one of his black leather pouch from the pocket of his robe he kept it in. Few knew what was inside, only himself and Dalamar. These black pouches held the more lethal herbs and powders: deadly nightshade, black lotus, and the tears of Lys. The powder in this pouch was none of these, it was sweet tasting and colourless, and in small doses was a harmless sleep agent.
The Red Robe made to empty the small bag into the wine. There was enough in there that, even diluted, a single glass would be enough to ensure the drinker never woke up. His hands shook as another spasm gripped him, almost scattering the fine powder over the tabletop.
A slender, long-fingered hand closed over his own, holding it steady. Dalamar took the bag himself and emptied it into the wine. "Sweetsleep?" he enquired, watching the pale crystals dissolve.
Raistlin nodded. "Will you..."
The Dark elf shook his head, his hand fingering the hilt of his dagger, eyes closing in quiet acceptance of what he would have to do.
An arrow thudded suddenly into a crossbeam over their heads, and Caramon came stumbling, the green draconian blood covering him already turning to dust. "They're breaking down the front door," he gasped. "Riverwind ordered us back here."
There was a loud crash, but not from the front door, but from the back! "That's not the only place they're breaking in!" Raistlin hissed, turning as the door leading from the kitchen to the back alley broke open.
"Tanis!" the big warrior gasped, running over and throwing his arms around the half-elf.
"How is everyone?" Tanis demanded.
"So far, so good," Caramon answered, peering around Half-elven and out at the smoke-filled alleyway. "Where is-"
"Sturm's lost; Flint and Tas are across the street, the kender's pinned under a bean. Gilthanas is about two blocks away. He's hurt, not badly, but he couldn't make it any further."
"Welcome, Tanis." Raistlin bit back a cough. "You have come in time to die with us."
The half-elf looked from the human wizard to the grim-faced Dalamar to the pitcher and the black pouch beside it. Horrified comprehension dawned.
"No, we're not going to die. At least not like this-" he broke off. "Get everyone together."
Caramon ran back into the common room, shouting. The Plainsman was the first one back; he had been standing beside what was left of the bar, firing arrows at the attackers. The others ran in after, smiling in relief at the sight of Tanis.
Raistlin and Dalamar shared a glance. On one hand, they couldn't see how they could get out, but on the other... well, any hope was better than none.
"Listen!" Tanis' voice was barely audible over the din. "We can try to escape out the back! Only a small force is attacking the inn. The main part of the army isn't in the city yet."
"Someone's after us," the Red Robe thought aloud.
The half-elf nodded. "So it would appear," he agreed reluctantly. "We haven't much time. If we can make it to the hills-"
"Be quiet!" Dalamar held up a hand.
Tanis stopped speaking. The inn had become eerily quiet, with even the noise of the besieging draconians gone. They a new sound reached their ears, the shrieking cry and leathery creaking of an approaching dragon.
Raistlin froze. Riverwind's cry of warning was drowned out by a screaming whine and deafening explosion as the dragon's fiery breath engulfed the inn. The floor trembled as though in the grip of an earthquake and the beans overhead creaked as the building began to collapse in on itself.
The human wizard raised his hands, thinking fast, trying to recall a spell that could stop them from being flattened by the falling debris. It took precious second for the spell to form in his mind, and by that time, the overhead beams were starting to groan and bend under the strain.
"Get out!" Tanis screamed. "The whole place is-"
The support over they heads groaned one final time, then gave way with an ear-splitting crack. The ground rocked under Raistlin's feet as he started shouting out the words of the spell, /"Bentuk eka sihir kendala berlua aku!"/
He didn't see if the spell worked or not. The floor rocked once again, bucked up, and vanished. Raistlin slid down and fell.
The last thing he heard was a grinding crash, as if the world had fallen in on top of them.
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Raistlin swam up to consciousness as if from a deep abyss, slowly coming back to himself.
He lay still, letting his scattered thoughts gather. The shock of the last hour -was it an hour? How long had he been unconscious?- had thrown him off centre, and he gave himself time to regain his footing. The first thing the human mage became aware of was the cold; the surface he was lying on was freezing, and icy water was dripping down from an unknown source and running down the back of his neck. Opening his eyes yielded nothing. It was pitch black, darker than a shuttered room at midnight. This was the dark of being buried alive.
Buried alive...
The memory of his last few waking moments came back: The breaking beam, the floor rocking and giving way, falling... Of course, they were in the basement. And judging by the fact that they hadn't been crushed, his spell had worked, shielding them from the worse of the damage. Or had it? Perhaps he was the only survivor. The darkness was as silent as it was complete. For a moment, Raistlin wished he had Dalamar's senses, the elf didn't know how lucky he was to be able to see in the dark. The human mage groped around on the stone floor for his staff. The floor was soaking, and so, he realised, was he. The cold bit straight through his damp robes and he bit his lip to keep from coughing.
His hand touched something soft, fabric. He ran his hand over the unknown figure, then smiled as his fingers snagged on a smooth sash and the pouches tied to it.
"Dalamar?" Raistlin mentally winced at how thin his voice sounded. "Dalamar, wake up." He found the Dark elf's shoulder and shook him, the skin under his hand was warm, and he sighed in relief. "Dalamar-" he broke off, coughing.
"Mmmff-" The Dark elf stirred, then, "Raistlin?"
The human wizard couldn't answer, the spasms still gripping him. He felt a familiar touch on his back, his friend rubbing soothing circles to ease the pain.
Raistlin wiped his mouth, swallowing the bitter tang of blood. "Are you hurt?" he asked hoarsely.
"No, I'm fine." The Dark elf's voice was soft. "What about you?"
The Red Robe slid closer to Dalamar, letting the warmth of the other's body thaw the cold that seemed to have set into his bones. "Just cold."
"And wet, no doubt." There was a note of wry amusement in the dark-robed exile’s voice.
"Can you see my staff?" Raistlin asked. "It's too dark for me to see anything."
There was a moment's silence. "Yes, it's over to your right, about three meters away."
The human crawled blindly over, hand sifting through several inches of water. Finally, his fingers touched the magically warm wood of the Staff of Magius.
/"Shirak."/ The light of the staff was blinding after this long in the dark. Raistlin blinked and rubbed his stinging eyes.
He was right, they were in the basement of the inn. Barrels and casks of wine and ale were scattered around, some split open and their contents leaking to mingle with the water dripping from the mass of rubble blocking the ceiling. One of the roof beams was lying diagonally across the room, resting on the field of force the wizard had called up to protect them.
Dalamar was sitting close to the far wall, looking slightly dazzled by the sudden light. Raistlin made his way back and huddled close, sharing body heat.
One by one, the other companions started to wake up. None were seriously hurt, and Goldmoon treated what wounds they had, but things hardly looked hopeful. None of them had any idea how long they'd been unconscious or what was going on outside; more than that, no one had any idea how to escape. It was, as Riverwind said, a matter of what killed them first, suffocation, drowning, cold, or the inn falling down on them.
"We could shout for help," Tika suggested, her voice wavering.
"Add draconians to the list, then," Dalamar snapped. He and Raistlin were sitting in the driest part of the cellar they could find, staying close together as much for comfort as warmth.
Caramon shot the Dark elf an ugly look and walked over to comfort the former barmaid.
Tanis scowled at the Silvanesti. "You are the last one to criticise anyone! If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess."
Dalamar narrowed his eyes. "As far as I know it wasn't my idea to come to this cursed place, but do you honestly think it would have changed anything if we had gone somewhere else? They were after us, and would have followed us had we decided to travel to Palanthas!"
Half-elven sighed and let the matter drop, then they all froze as voice filtered down to them. Draconian voices.
"I tell you, this is a waste of time." Another voice, goblin. "These no one alive in this mess."
"Tell that to the Dragon Highlord, you miserable dog-eaters," a draconian voice snarled. "I'm sure his lordship would be very interested in your opinion. Or rather, his dragon will be interested. You have your orders, now dig."
There was a scraping noise, and the sounds of rocks being moved away. Dirt and ash filtered through the cracks in the ceiling.
"As I said," Dalamar sighed, "they were after us."
The goblins continued to chatter and complain as they dug their way down, getting louder all the time. Grimly, Raistlin wondered who this new Dragon Highlord was. Well, if things went on this way they would probably end up meeting him in person.
As the sounds of digging grew closer, the companions quietly armed themselves. The Red Robe flicked through his spellbook. He was tired and cold, but he'd be able to get a few spells off before it finished him.
He looked at Dalamar, and the Dark elf was looking thoughtful. He leant in close to whisper in Raistlin's ear, "When they break through and the others attack, try to get out. The way the goblins are digging is weakening most of the structure. If we can blow a hole through a weak spot, we've got a chance to get away. I know places to hide if we can reach the slums."
The human looked at his lover and nodded; it meant leaving the others, but if the alternative was death-
A shriek cut through Raistlin's thoughts, followed by screams from the goblins and draconians, then another cry, like that one an eagle and a tearing sound as though someone or something was being ripped limb from limb.
"What is that?" Caramon gasped. "It isn't a dragon. It sounds like-like some gigantic bird of prey!"
"Whatever it is, it's tearing the draconians to shreds!" Goldmoon whispered.
The Red Robe looked over at Dalamar, who was staring upwards, looking rather pale.
The screams died, and from above them came the unmistakable sound of digging, rocks being lifted and thrown aside like so many clods of dirt.
"It's eaten the draconians and now it's after us!" the big warrior groaned, drawing his sword.
Before anyone could speak further, there was a rending crack and a huge clawed foot punched through the ceiling, its talons covered in blood and dirt.
Dalamar stared in shock. "A griffon!" he exclaimed.
"What!" Tanis shouted, ducking down behind a small pile of debris.
Raistlin grabbed the Dark elf's shoulder and pulled him back as the great claw slowly withdrew. "Are you certain?"
Dalamar nodded, staring at the hole the creature had punched through the ceiling. "I saw them many times in Silvanesti, but what in the Abyss are they doing here?"
The half-elf stared at him. "Griffons?" At the dark-robed mage’s nod, he looked back up at the hole. "Alhana," he breathed, sounding shocked.
The Dark elf's eyes widened. "What?" he hissed softly.
"It has to be," Tanis whispered.
Dalamar was completely incredulous. "Alhana? Alhana /Starbreeze/?" He looked at Half-elven again, who nodded. "/Here?/"
"She was looking for mercenaries, it's a long story. She was in the Halls of Justice when we were." He sent the Silvanesti an ugly look, reminding him whose fault it was that they'd been there in the first place.
The Dark elf didn't seem to notice. Raistlin touched his shoulder. "Alhana Starbreeze? The Silvanesti princess?"
Dalamar nodded, then started to smile bitterly. "Clearly, the Dragon Armies double-crossed her as them did everybody else. Why else would she need mercenaries?" he laughed hoarsely. "Why else would she need /us?/ Oh, this is so pricelessly ironic."
"How so?"
All humour fled the Dark elf's face, although his lip remained curled. "She was the one who exiled me, after all."
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Dalamar crawled out of the hole first, before kneeling down and helping Raistlin climb through.
The human mage gasped in air, coughed once, and brushed his dirty white hair out of his face.
The sky seemed almost to be on fire. Clouds had gathered and reflected the flames now consuming Tarsis, glowing scarlet and orange like a premature sunset.
However, it was not the sky that drew Raistlin's attention, but the creatures now surrounding them. He had known of griffons before, had read about them in books, and heard about them from Dalamar, but like with the dragons, it was something else entirely seeing them in the flesh. It was larger than a horse, with claws and beak sharp enough to rip through even dragon scales, its hawk eyes glittered in the light of the fire.
Dalamar wasn't even looking at the creatures, his eyes locking on a slender figure standing beside them. Once again, like yesterday, Raistlin knew the Dark elf was taking refuge in anger; the sight of the one who had exiled him must be truly painful.
/"Muralasa,"/ he spat, wiping dirt off his face.
The elfwoman turned, and the human mage stared.
'Princess of the Night', Dalamar had named her, no matter how mockingly, and the description was good for one so ethereal. She was pale, immortally young, and with skin white as Solinari; her eyes were a strange translucent violet, like cut amethysts, and her hair was as black as the Dark elf's own. Even Raistlin was impressed.
Right now however, those beautiful features were twisted in outrage, and her purple eyes were narrowed at Dalamar. "You!"
Compared with Alhana, the elven mage looked ridiculous; he was filthy, his black robes battered and sodden, and the ash from the burning city had streaked his face and hair grey. Yet, at the same time, he looked far more real that the princess; it seemed as though if you reached out, she would always be out of reach, as insubstantial as a ghost. But Dalamar wouldn't be, and if Raistlin was to reach out to him, he would be there, solid and warm and far more real than Alhana, for all her beauty.
"Me," he sneered.
Starbreeze turned to Tanis, "Is this the company you keep, Tanis Half-elven?"
The Half-elf sighed and rubbed his forehead, now no doubt severely regretting taking the two mages along. "Not willingly," he answered.
The Red Robe snorted, "As if you wouldn't be dead twice over without us."
Alhana glanced up at the sky, where, high above, the red dragons were still circling. "We have no time," she said coldly. "You-" she pointed at Dalamar "-are staying here. The rest of you are coming with me."
Raistlin and Dalamar looked at each other. Perhaps it was the sheer idiocy of the statement, or the situation, or maybe it was simply that the day had been impossible from the beginning, and the stress needed to escape somehow, but the reaction was the same. The two mages burst out laughing.
The human rested his head on the smooth surface of his staff, still snickering. "/My lady/," he whispered mockingly, "if you think that I am going /anywhere/ without him..." He didn't finish, just grinned into the warm wood.
The elfwoman looked stunned -probably she wasn't used to being laughed at-, then torn. "I can't take him-" she started.
"You're talking about going to Silvanesti, aren't you?" Dalamar interrupted flatly. He was no longer laughing.
The princess didn't answer, but her silence and her expression of rage was information enough.
"That's impossible!" Tanis stated. "We need to meet our friends. Take us to the hills. We can't go to Silvanesti, there's too much at stake! If we can find these dragon orbs, we have a chance to destroy these foul creatures and end this war! /Then/ we can go to Silvanesti."
Dragon orbs? Raistlin's eyes narrowed; this was something he hadn't thought of, but at the same time, it made sense. He had heard of the dragon orbs, and if Tanis seemed to think there were still at least one still in existence... well, such artefacts would be ideal to end this war.
Almost as if prompted by those thoughts, the whispers, which had been curiously quiet up to this point, started again. Not only would these dragon orbs be central to ending the war, they themselves held the keys to power, /if/ one could control them.
Raistlin bit his lip, understanding what the whispers meant by those words. He could. He had the control, the power to command a dragon orb.
Resigning himself to taking that risk, the human mage forced himself back to the present just as Alhana retorted to Tanis' words, "/Now/ we are going to Silvanesti, you have no choice in the matter, Half-elven. My griffons obey my command and mine alone. They would tear you apart, as they did those dragonmen, if I gave the command. And I will give it, if you do not obey." Her eyes went to Dalamar, making it quite clear what she meant.
Raistlin had had enough; if this woman didn’t want their help, fine, they'd take their chances with the dragonarmies and the lot of them could go straight to the Abyss for all he cared. “Come on," he hissed at his friend disgustedly. "We're going."
The Dark elf nodded, eyes still flashing with anger.
They hadn't gone more than a few feet before there was a shout, "Stop!"
The human mage turned, scowling balefully at Alhana. "You must come with us," she insisted.
"I am going nowhere without him, and if you think /threatening/ us will-"
"You will be well-rewarded," the elfwoman interrupted.
Raistlin snorted, then coughed at he inhaled a mouthful of smoke. "You can keep your gold and jewels-" he spat.
"You seek the dragon orbs," she put in. "I know where one in located. It is in Silvanesti."
The human’s furious words died on his tongue. A dragon orb... He didn't need the whispers in order to be tempted. "That is why you need us," he hissed. "Only magic-users can truely command a dragon orb."
"That is why I need /you/," Alhana corrected. "I will not bring an exile into elven lands."
The human mage hesitated. It was so unbelievingly tempting. A dragon orb... yet, to be forced to leave Dalamar behind, what kind of a trade was that?
The whispers were of the opinion that it was a very good trade indeed. 'Just go,' they hissed. 'He will be fine, and the power of the artefact will far outweigh the loss... What does it matter anyway what happens to him? You know what you want, take it. Leave the Dark elf to his fears and delusions...'
Raistlin ran a hand over his face feeling unbearably torn, and a very different voice echoed in his mind: "Look for me. When this is over... look for me there... Go without fear, I will be there to meet you." Dalamar had been prepared to brave death for him, and whom would he be to spit on that?
"Take the others and leave," he said flatly, ignoring the shrieks of the whispers. "I'm going nowhere without Dalamar." He turned away, feeling his stomach lurch. Had he done the right thing? What was the trade off of this choice going to be?
His lover’s hand closed on his shoulder, a tender look in the elf's grey eyes. Raistlin forced a smile and sighed, resigning himself. He had made his choice.
Judging by the noise behind them, that choice had had quite an impact. He could hear Tanis and Caramon arguing.
"Thank you," Dalamar said softly. "Although..." he broke off and looked back over his shoulder.
The human mage nodded bitterly. A dragon orb. What a loss. But then, the way she was acting, Alhana would probably not have let them take it from Silvanesti.
Then, suddenly, his lover smiled. He leant close to Raistlin and whispered, "Don't look, but I've a feeling our princess is going to have a mass-mutiny on her hands. Caramon isn't going anywhere without you, and none of the others really want to go to Silvanesti for a useless dragon orb. Either she'll give in, or nobody will go."
Dalamar was right, Alhana gave in. Clearly, the fear of failing her people overthrew her fear of breaking such a long held taboo. "Very well," she snarled at the two mages through gritted teeth. "You can both come. But understand that if you do anything to betray us, my griffons will destroy you."
The elven wizard scowled back, not at all impressed, but when she turned away, he sighed and lowered his head. Raistlin touched the back of his neck. "This is going to be hard for you, isn't it?"
The Dark elf smiled bitterly. "Just imagine how I was like in Qualinesti and make it three times as bad." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll try not to take it out on you though, this is hardly your fault and if she's telling the truth-" He glanced over at Alhana. "Which I don't doubt she is, then we have to go with her."
Raistlin kissed the side of his face. "I'll be there," he promised.

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Skull Bearer.
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