Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

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
- 3
- 4
Chapter 4
The horses traveled along at a steady pace through the forest, carrying their riders deep into elven territory. No words passed between them as the two mages rode through the emerald forest, until they came to a fork in the path.
“Shalafi, do you think it wise we travel on…it is almost dusk.”
“I think it plenty wise to do as I please, apprentice. Who would challenge me, I ask you?” Dalamar shrunk away from his master’s stern comment. Raistlin was always different outside of the tower. He liked his kind master much more than this man.
“O…of course, you are right, Shalafi. It is just…the elves do not take kindly to human, or mages of our creed.” Raistlin turned, his eyes searching the elves’ deeply.
“You turned to the black robes for revenge and retribution and in turn were cast from your home for an action you had no choice but to take?” Raistlin said this as more of a statement of appalled shock than a question, but Dalamar would take no chance of further angering him.
“That is correct Shalafi.” Dalamar bowed his head in shame. Raistlin eyes narrowed under his hood.
“I find that I like your elves less and less the more I hear about them.” Raistlin smiled slightly at Dalamar. “But if you feel so adamantly about this, we shall stop.” Raistlin gently reined the black mare to the side of the road. “Come apprentice, we will camp here for the night.”
***
Night fell slowly over the forest of the elves, soon blackening the sun from the western sky and throwing dark shadows across the camp of the two travelers. Dalamar sat silently by the fireside, stoking the fire lightly with a long stick, his eyes focused, unseeing, on the small creature roasting over the open flame. He had been deep in thought for some time and could not help a small sigh as he turned the end of the spit slowly, exposing the uncooked meat to the flames. Raistlin sat, equally as quiet, on a large log that lay, rotting, on the forest floor just out of the fire’s radiance. His golden eyes, sparkling like gems from behind his hood, locked on the forlorn figure of his lover. Depression did not suit the lovely elf and Raistlin was quick to find a way to remedy his sorrowful state.
“Tell me Dalamar, what is Silvanesti like?” Dalamar looked up from the half-cooked rabbit on the spit.
“What’s it like?” Dalamar's eyes went to the shadowed figure of his master, question filling their chocolate depths. The question was quite sudden for a person such as Raistlin.
“I believe that is what I said, unless I stuttered.” Raistlin smiled gently. “Tell me what it’s like.” Dalamar walked to where shadows feigned the edge of the fire’s light and looked out into the forest, his back to the mage. The night was silent, and Dalamar’s voice rang clearly through the glen.
“It’s still a beautiful city, of that I am sure, though I have not been there for so long.” Dalamar raised his eyes to the sky. There was no light this night except that of the fire and the black moon, Niutari, who hung high in the eastern sky, shedding its dark shadows over the forest. “The city lies on the other side of the large river we camp beside and the Tower of the Stars raises high in the center of the city. The tower itself is carved of what looks to be the finest of pearl but the city is shaped from the most beautiful of rose quartz imaginable. ” Dalamar cast his eyes back toward his silent master in confusion. “Shalafi, did you not travel to Silvanesti in your youth? Do you not already know what beauty the city entails?” Raistlin smiled slightly behind his hood.
“Yes apprentice, I have traveled to Silvanesti. I was just trying to pull you out of this slump you seem to have fallen into. I do not enjoy seeing you so.” Raistlin opened his arms. “Come, my apprentice.” Dalamar turned to fully face his master; his liquid, chestnut brown eyes shedding silent tears. “Come to me.” The elf crossed the camp quickly, sinking to his knees in front of Raistlin. Dalamar laid his head on Raistlin’s knee, closing his eyes and taking in the strong scent and loving comfort that was his master’s embrace. Raistlin stroked the elves’ ebony hair in a calming motion. ‘Don’t worry Dalamar, everything will be alright. You will be able to sleep in peace when I am through.’
“Shalafi?” Dalamar broke the silence with little more than a whisper.
“Yes Dalamar?” Raistlin eyed the back of Dalamar’s head wearily.
“I believe the rabbit is burnt.” Dalamar laughed lightly at his comment and looked to the mage, his eyes bright and cheerful. Raistlin smirked at his worry; he had thought Dalamar had fallen back into his depression.
“That is alright, it is only the outside that is burnt.” Raistlin stood up and removed the charred rabbit from the spit. He flexed his right arm slightly, dropping his dagger into his hand. He used the blade to quickly strip away the charred flesh, exposing the juicy, inner meat of the rabbit. “There we are. Now, we may eat.”
After the mages had eaten their fill and cleaned the campsite of the bones and debris, Raistlin put out the fire with a sharp command and settled down next to Dalamar in his bedroll.
***
Dalamar awoke later that night to the deep, crimson glow of the red moon, Lunitari. The dream had come to him again; the nightmare he suffered so frequently. Goddess when would it end?! Reliving his past night after night would be his undoing and he knew it. He would lose his mind if this kept on.
Shaking away the thought of going off the deep end, Dalamar rose silently. He glanced down at Raistlin, deep in slumber at his feet. He looked so peaceful, so calm in his sleep; almost child-like in his innocence. Dalamar knelt down, kissing the tips of his index and middle fingers and brushed them lightly across Raistlin’s lips, gently cupping his cheek. Raistlin made a small noise of satisfaction and turned his face toward the caress. Dalamar smiled lovingly, his master always seemed closest to peace when he slept. The elf rose with the fluidity of a cat on the prowl and, with one last look at the sleeping mage, moved through the forest toward the river.
‘I feel so dirty; I can’t believe this. Even after all these years, it still affects me the same way. I wish, if but for one night, I could sleep in peace.’ Dalamar reached the edge of the Thon Thalas, more commonly known as Lord’s River, the border between the outside world and the sacred, elven homeland. He cast his eyes up and down the river, surveying the scenery. ‘This brings back memories.’ Always, after that drunken ass defiled his body, had Dalamar run here to take solace from the world and to cleanse the filth he felt from his body and soul in the crystal, clear water.
Dalamar untied the silken cord belt around his waist and hung it from a nearby tree. He slid his fingers across his chest, opening his robes, bearing his cream colored skin to the night. He shrugged the soft, velvet robes from his shoulders, revealing the five scars upon his chest. They ached as if newly made. He placed his right hand over the holes and shivered slightly. The pain was still there… the pain and the humiliation. This was the price he paid for betrayal. His master had been generous. Better people had suffered far worse for acts of tracery against the golden mage.
The raven velvet slid over his pale skin, cascading down his body in a waterfall of shimmering fabric, and came to pool at his feet. Reflecting the crimson light of the red moon, the deep, black robes took on a blood red huge in the moonlight. He carefully slipped out of his soft, leather boots and set them close to his robes. Leaving his clothing where it lay, Dalamar crossed the short distance between the trees and the edge of the river and, within mere seconds, had once again waded waist deep into the calm stream.
Dalamar cupped his hands in the water and lifted it in his hands to splash it across his face. The water was refreshing; it released his mind, body and soul from the torment of his thoughts, giving him the peace he could not find, even in sleep. Dalamar dropped to his knees in the cool water, bringing the water levels to sit just above his shoulders. He leaned his head back slowly, dipping his relatively long hair into the water. Dalamar brushed his fingers though his shoulder length hair, washing the dust of travel from the ebony locks. He drew his head up, shaking away the excess water. The tiny droplets splashed down upon the surface of the calm stream, disturbing the surface only for a brief moment before returning to their original places allowing the water to resume its glass-like appearance once again. Dalamar used the pure, crystalline water to wash away the images of his past. He felt the immorality of his nightmares peel from his soul as the water washed over him, leaving him whole and clean again.
As he lifted a final bit of water up to cleanse his face, he was startled by a soft sound in the distance. His head whipped from left to right, looking for the source of the sound but he could none. Suddenly all too worried and suspicious, Dalamar waded toward the shore from whence he came and moved back towards the dim light of the fading campfire. He gathered his robes, boots and belt swiftly, his paranoia building with each passing second, and all but ran the remaining distance to the camp.
Upon reaching the camp, the elf was greeted with a most chilling sight; Raistlin was no longer in his bed roll and the staff of Magus had gone missing. Dalamar began to panic as he looked franticly about the camp, his apprehension growing in leaps and bounds as not only thoughts of his master’s sudden disappearance but his fate provided his mind.
The elves could have come, swiftly and silently as they always did, and taken Raistlin to the city, but why? The elves he knew and remembered would have sooner killed him than taken a human to their beloved city. Not to mention that Dalamar would have certainly heard a struggle from the river, and there were no signs of bloodshed about the camp. Any solution to the current state of events eluded him. Where was his golden mage?
Dalamar was so lost in thought that he heard not, the soft foot falls come behind him. ‘I was not gone for long. What has happened to him?’ His thoughts were soon interrupted when someone suddenly grabbed him by the waist, begetting a panicked scream from his already terror ridden mind.
“Shh my apprentice, it is but I.” Dalamar quickly silenced himself, his posture becoming more relaxed.
“Please Shalafi, do not surprise me so. I…I thought y…you were…” Raistlin quickly span the quivering elf in his arms, bringing them to face one another.
“Shh Dalamar, do not worry, I am here.” Raistlin placed a hand on either of Dalamar’s cheeks. “Everything is as it should be. There is no need for fright.” Raistlin kissed the elf gently. Though Dalamar all but melted intro the kiss, he still shook. Raistlin guided him to the bedroll and they both sat upon it. He gathered Dalamar into his lap gingerly, cradling him in his arms. Dalamar’s head fell to Raistlin’s chest and he sobbed bitterly, clutching the black velvet of his master’s robes in a death grip.
I…I thought y…you might have been…”
“Hurt?” Raistlin suggested in an amused tone. “No my dark nymph I was not hurt. I noticed you had gone and heard you in the river. I went to see what you were doing.” Raistlin smiled his thin lipped smiles full of cynicism. “When I found you missing, I thought something had happen to you,” As the mage spoke these words, his arms tightened around Dalamar’s waist instinctively. “But no, I would have heard a struggle; you know what a light sleeper I am. Upon coming to this conclusion, I thought of other ways for you to just ‘disappear’ without my notice. That was when I heard splashing in the river and supposed…” Raistlin was pulled out of his explanation by a rather large sob from his lover, who now violently shook in his gentle embrace. “Dalamar what is it? I am alright, you are alright, nothing is wrong and yet you shake.” Dalamar found his tongue but he seemed to be so close to a nervous breakdown he could hardly speak.
“N…no Shalafi, I…it was n…not your safety that con…concerned me the most I… it was mine.” Dalamar took a deep breath and sighed, steadying his speech. “I do not feel safe here. When you came up behind me…” Dalamar shuttered visibly and in turn was hugged to Raistlin chest tighter. “When you held me, restrained me, I thought you were…” Dalamar closed his eyes, bowing his head in disgrace and self-loathing. “…my father.”
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sins of the Past