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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Crepuscule
Chapter five - Of Arrogance
I'm alive with something inside of me
And I don't think I'm coming back
-Northern Soul, The Verve.
They had been racing down the game trail, running even after they had realised that no one was giving chase, and when Tanis called the halt, no one complained.
Raistlin had been leaning more and more heavily on Dalamar's arm until the Dark elf feared the human might collapse if he let go. Sturm was bleeding from the cut just above his temple -obviously the staff had limits- and exhausted enough not to notice that the blood was matting his moustaches. Everyone else was dirty, tired, and out of breath.
The sigh of relief was unanimous as they all slumped to the ground.
"Why aren't they chasing us?" Flint gasped.
Tanis shrugged, pointing out the blindingly obvious to the clearly blind dwarf that the reptile-men had probably covered all the ways out, save, of course, Darken Wood.
"Darken Wood!" Goldmoon exclaimed fearfully.
Tanis hastened to assure her that they would not take that path unless it was absolutely necessary, they'd decide when they'd reached Prayer's Eye Peak and had a look around.
Dalamar shook his head, at the moment it seemed as if anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. Probably, everything at the same time.
The Dark elf settled back against a mossy tree trunk and blocked Half-human's gibbering from his mind, instead drawing out the pouch he had taken from one of their inhuman attackers. Turning the leather inside out, he emptied its contents into his hand.
Three steel pieces and a scrap of parchment fell out. The parchment appeared to be some kind of crude map of the area and, judging by its smell, it had once belonged to a goblin. Dalamar wrinkled his nose and tossed to parchment at Tasslehoff; if the kender liked maps, then he was welcome to this one.
The coins, on the other hand, Dalamar had no intention of giving away for any reason short of bribing someone. Pleased with the find, the Elf deftly flicked one of them into the air, sunlight flashing off its engraved surface.
A slender golden hand halted it in mid-flight.
The elven mage blinked. Raistlin's hourglass eyes were narrowed as he examined the coin before handing it back to Dalamar, face up. Puzzled, the Dark elf looked at it.
The five dragon heads of Takhisis were engraved into the metal.
The two mages stared at each other. "So," Raistlin murmured. "These creatures are linked to the northern armies and are, like those searching for the staff, in their pay. Hardly a reassuring piece of knowledge."
Dalamar tried to imagine an army of the reptile-men, and shuddered.
~ ~
Clearly believing that the two mages were too engrossed in their conversation to eavesdrop, Tanis and the Plainsmen had started speaking again. Dalamar leant in closer to Raistlin to encourage the illusion, while in reality they were listening with pricked up ears.
"You've seen these creatures before, haven't you?"
It was more a statement than a question, but Riverwind answered anyway. "In the broken city. It all came back to me when I looked into the cart and saw that thing leering at me! At least... At least I know I'm not going insane. These horrible creatures really do exist... I had wondered sometimes."
Dalamar fought down a snort. He wished the creatures /had/ been a figment of the Plainsman's imagination; they could deal with delusions. Delusions didn't hurt! Ruefully, the Dark elf touched the torn shoulder of his robes and the shallow cuts beneath. Besides... "If these creatures are real," he whispered to his lover, "then what about that 'Death on Black Wings' he keeps babbling about?" The Dark elf had a feeling that they would all be better off not knowing the answer to that particular question.
"I can imagine," Tanis had answered the Plainsman's words after a long pause. "So these creatures are spreading all over Krynn, unless your broken city was near here."
"No, I came into Que-shu out of the east. It was far from Solace, beyond the plains of my homeland."
"So, the army has reached the east as well as the south," Dalamar murmured.
"Either that or emissaries have been sent from one to the other. Either way, it makes for a poor lookout," Raistlin whispered back.
The Dark elf nodded, the image of the massed army flickering into his mind again.
He was so deep in thought that he almost missed Raistlin's retort to Riverwind's exclamation of how strange everything was.
"It's going to get stranger."
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This was the first time Dalamar had seen Prayer's Eye Peak this close; previously he'd not been nearer to it than Crystalmir Lake. He was, however, as familiar with it as one can get at a distance, and knew of the split peak that gave the mountain its name.
The rain had stopped but the chill hung heaving in the air, the wood completely silent save for their footsteps on the well-worn picnic trails. It was deeply unnerving.
When Sturm's voice broke the silence in a loud "Stop!" the elf almost jumped out of his skin. He had started to recall a spell before Raistlin had put a hand on his shoulder and reassured him that nothing was amiss.
Save, apparently, the knight's sanity. But that was old news.
Sturm was staring over to the right, directly at the wall of trees. Dalamar followed his gaze and saw nothing: No sign of anyone or anything, not even the subtle waving of branches showing where someone had ducked out of sight. Yet the knight's gaze was fixed of a single spot, a spot which, to the Dark elf, looked the same as any other.
For once, Tanis had grasped the obvious -that his friend was clearly suffering from some kind of hallucination- and offered to let the knight rest while he scouted up ahead.
"No! Look!" Sturm forced the Half-elf to look at where he was pointing. "See it? The White Stag!"
Dalamar looked again. Still nothing. Clearly, the staff didn't heal mental injuries, but then he shouldn't be surprised, it hadn't done anything for Caramon's senses either.
Tanis couldn't see it either, and told Sturm as much. The knight seemed to be barely listening, only lifting a hand to point at the waving branched of an oak.
"There. He wants us to follow him," the knight exclaimed, "Like Huma!"
Great, delusions of grandeur on top of everything else. Just what they needed.
The elven mage wasn't the only one feeling sceptical about this new development. He caught Raistlin's eye and shook his head -the knight had finally gone off the deep end. Riverwind too had his doubts, muttering "I see no stag of any colour", to Goldmoon.
Dalamar glanced over at Raistlin, other mage was looking unusually pensive. Surely, he didn't actually /believe/ the delusional idiot, did he?
Caramon certainly didn't. He was nodding his head like a charlatan cleric and trying to get Sturm to sit down; "Head wound. C'mon Sturm, lie down and rest-"
Not that Sturm was happy about having this pointed out. "You great blithering idiot!" he snarled. "With your brains in your stomach, it's just as well you do not see the stag. You would probably shoot it and cook it! I tell you this -we must follow it!"
Riverwind was obviously unhappy about following something which he couldn't see and which probably did not exist, and like practically everyone else in this little band, he turn to the only person with half a brain.
Although the Plainsman and the Half elf were only speaking in whispers, Dalamar's ears were keen enough to pick up their conversation.
"The madness of the head wound, I have seen it often"
"I'm not sure, though I have not seen the white stag myself, I have been with one who has and I have followed it, like in the old man's story."
In truth, Dalamar was barely listening, he noticed that Tanis was doing something rather interesting.
The Half-elf's hand had gone to a thin strip of gold around a finger on his left hand, a wedding band? Dalamar blinked, wondering who had the abject stupidity to want to be tied to this self-pitying fool. The most obvious answer was Kitiara, but... no. What he knew of Kitiara -mercifully little- told him that Raistlin's half-sister would not agree to be tied down to anyone. What was more, the ring, now he looked more closely, was carved with tiny ivy leaves.
Elven then, and clearly someone that Half-elven still thought about, if he'd kept the ring. Amused, Dalamar wondered if he'd kept the ring on when he had been confession eternal love to Kitiara. Probably. It would be a lovely excuse for the Half-human's self-pitying excesses.
The two seemed to realise they were being observes and spun around, Dalamar filed what he had learnt away for later use and quickly turned to Raistlin. He hoped the two hadn't noticed him.
The human mage's eyes were narrowed in thought, still mulling over Sturm's hallunciantion. And when Caramon blurted out his astonishment at following an animal they couldn't see, his response was waspish.
"It would not be the strangest thing we had done, though, remember," he turned to Tanis, "that it was the old man who told the tale of the white stag and the old man who got us into this-"
Dalamar was impressed, he wondered how much of Tanis and Riverwind's conversation the perceptive mage had picked up. It would definitely be worth discussing.
Still, they had more pressing problems, Raistlin seemed to be convinced that the stag was not a delusion and even Goldmoon agreed that even if the stag wasn't real, it was at least leading them away from possible pursuit. Sharing a long glance with the human mage, Dalamar wondered if he might have been wrong in dismissing the white stag as a fantasy brought on by a head wound and far too much dreaming.
And, the Dark elf privately thought later, that wouldn't be the first thing he was wrong about something. He had certainly been wrong in thinking delusions couldn't hurt them, or at least lead to pain. They had started off through the thick woods, leaving the trails behind in favour of the brush. Sturm was leading them deeper into wild tangles of trees and one of the branches had just whacked the Dark elf heavily below his shoulder. He'd have a bruise there in the morning.
If they lived to see the morning. Sturm was crashing through the undergrowth like a lunatic and leaving a trail a blind gully dwarf -and even Caramon- could follow. The reptile-men, he suspected, would be far more skilled.
Any snide remarks he was about to make were swallowed by sheer shock when they broke out of the tree onto a smooth, wide trail.
Dalamar tried to remember which one it might have been and drew a blank. It was well known that there /were/ no trails on this side of the mountain.
The others were similarly amazed. The trail was old, of that there was no doubt, yet it was no overgrown, despite the fact that there were no signs of any other tracks than their own. There was no grass growing on the track, no signs of animal prints- nor any trace of the stag's, Dalamar thought to himself- even the tree branches didn't grow low enough to force any of them to duck.
Up and up they went, following a frantic Sturm, heading for the narrow gap between the 'hands' of stone. Raistlin was once again having to lag behind due to exhaustion, and Dalamar started back to help him. He was very glad when Tanis called at the knight to stop and rest for a minute. The Half-elf wanted to go and have a look ahead, see if anything was following them. Riverwind went with him.
Knowing that for once he would be unable to eavesdrop, the Dark elf sat down next to his companion. Then, impulsively, he pulled the slender mage into his arms. If they were going to be carved up by reptile-men, then he wanted to enjoy the time he had as much as possible. Raistlin didn't object, but instead settled back with a sigh, nuzzling Dalamar's shoulder and clasping his hands over the Dark elf's.
Oh, it felt good. He was tired, and who knew when Half-Elven would be back from his little trip up the mountain.
A golden hand smoothed the knotted tangles of his black hair. In the rush of the last two days -had it only been that?-, he hadn't had time to brush it, even had he been able to find a hairbrush. Raistlin twisted in his arms and kissed him, a sweet touch, and Dalamar happily melted into it, his hands slipping under the collar of the young mage's red robes.
Unfortunately, Tanis chose that moment to come back, and the elven wizard had to draw away, albeit reluctantly.
"It's just as well we left the trail," the Half-elf panted. "The trails are swarming with those creatures. We'd have been ambushed."
Dalamar lifted an eyebrow. "Well then, why are we waiting here? We should move on as quickly as possible before they find this trail."
Tanis looked uncomfortable, mumbling something about vanishing paths before changing the subject. "What's more, Riverwind and I saw evidence of campfires to the north. Hundreds of campfires, enough for an army."
The picture of an army made up of reptile-men made a third appearance behind Dalamar's eyes.
"So the rumours are confirmed," Sturm muttered. "There /is/ an army in the north."
"But what army? Whose? And why?" Caramon wondered aloud. "What are they going to attack-"
"What do you do with an army?" Raistlin interrupted, hissing. "You /invade/, /dear/ brother."
"But no one would send an army after this staff," Caramon snorted. Then, under fire from Raistlin and Dalamar's cold glares- "Would they?"
"The staff is but a part of this." Raistlin murmured. "Remember the fallen stars."
"Children's stories!" Flint grumbled.
"Children's stories do not tear the stars from the sky, Dwarf," Dalamar snarled. Why was it that only he and Raistlin had the sense to understand what that /meant/? The only ones with the power to move the stars were the gods, who /were/ the stars. Throw in a long-lost staff brimming with mysterious clerical powers, and you had more than enough to worry about.
The argument was settled by Sturm, who once again shouted that the stag had appeared -apparently mistaking it for a large boulder-, and the chase was on again.
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It was midday by the time they reached the cleft in the peak, and by that time a fresh breeze had sprung up, blowing away the clouds and letting the sun warm them.
The climb was easier now, Sturm had slowed to a walk and let them proceed at a more leisurely pace. Of course, that just mean the others had enough breath to grumble.
First Caramon and Flint struck up a conversation about the lack of food, which only served to remind Dalamar that they hadn't eaten since that morning. Then, when they stumbled through the narrow pass, steep cliffs of rock rising high above them, Flint kept up a continuous commentary of complaints: The sun was too hot, the wind too cold, he was hungry, it would soon rain again; on and on until the Dark elf wanted to throw him off the mountainside out of sheer irritation.
What was more, the land ahead of them was no more welcoming than the one they had left; the grassy valley they were entering led to a grim aspen forest that crouched on the edge of the meadow like a predator waiting to strike. Dalamar was entirely unsurprised when Raistlin pointed out that this was Darken Wood. It certainly looked the part.
Oddly, the others didn't seem to be so bothered. Tasslehoff even pointed out that it "Didn't look bad at all.”
"Looks are a deceptive as a light fingered kender," the Red Robe snarled to himself, before turning to the elven mage. "What do you think?"
The Dark elf looked back to the forest and fought down a shudder. "I think the kender has also taken a blow to the head. I have never seen a forest so unwelcoming."
Raistlin looked as though he was about to say something, then shook his head, looking oddly worried.
Tanis was speaking to Sturm. They were making no effort to keep their voices down and it would have been almost impossible /not/ to overhear.
"Sturm, can you see the stag? Do you see it now?"
"Yes," The knight pointed downwards to a patch of waving grass, "It walked across the meadow; I can see it's trail in the tall grass. It has gone into the aspens there."
Surprise, surprise.
"Gone into Darken Wood." Half-elven murmured.
Sturm looked astonished, and Dalamar blinked, surely even the knight could feel the menace that flowed off the range of trees?
"Who says that is Darken Wood?"
"Raistlin."
Sturm's snort of derision and his claim that Raistlin was "Crazed" irked Dalamar.
"And this coming from a man following an invisible deer. I would be careful before I handed out opinions on sanity, Brightblade."
Sturm's eyes were narrowed in hatred. "Can't you hold your tongue and stay out of other people's business, Dark elf? This stag led us away from those creatures. I will follow the stag -as did Huma-, even if it leads me into Darken Wood." He started down the mountainside.
Dalamar had no answer, and contented himself with scowling at a smirking Half-Elven and following him as he walked over to Raistlin.
"How certain are you that this forest is Darken Wood, Raistlin?" Tanis asked.
Raistlin shrugged, and the elven mage recognised the signs of when his companion was going to be especially unhelpful. "How certain are we of anything, Half-Elven? I am not certain of drawing my next breath." Dalamar winced. "But go ahead. Walk into the wood no living man has ever walked out of. Death is life's great certainty."
This time, it was Dalamar's turn to smile at Tanis's frown. The Half-elf looked as though he'd like nothing better than to throw the two of /them/ off the mountainside.
Finally, he spoke shortly: "I'm going with Sturm, but I'll be responsible to no one else in this decision. The rest of you may follow if you choose."
"All well and good," Dalamar told Tanis coldly as they started down. "But what choice is that meant to be? Caramon will follow you like a sheep into the slaughterhouse, as will Flint. Tasslehoff will, of course, come and the Plainsmen will not want to be left alone with us. What else are we meant to do? Stay on the mountainside until the reptile-men cut us down?"
The Half-elf looked as if he'd wish they would do just that, but Raistlin spoke before he could: "You have led us this far -there can be no turning back. It is the Ogre's Choice you offer us- Die fast or die slow."
Tanis had no answer, looking angry both with them and with himself. What could he say? They were right.
~ ~
It was getting dark by the time they reached the forest, which looked even more foreboding and hostile in the dim light. Dalamar would have liked nothing better than to grab Raistlin and run as far away from this forbidding place as he could. Even from here, he could feel the magic hanging over the forest like storm clouds ready to break.
Yet somehow, none of the others seemed to notice the forest's appearance or its grim atmosphere. In fact, when the reached it, they found Strum resting comfortably under the branches of a particularly malevolent looking tree. Was it possible that they just weren't seeing the same thing? No one could be so blind as to disregard the blatant feeling of danger that came from the forest. Caramon was even talking of perhaps catching some game for supper.
The idea of eating anything from this twisted place was enough to kill any appetite Dalamar had, and he was entirely in agreement with Raistlin's next words.
"Shoot nothing. Eat nothing. Drink nothing in Darken Wood," he hissed. The Dark elf was relieved that he was also looking unnerved; he was beginning to think that /he/ had been the one who had taken a blow to the head.
Raistlin's tone had sobered everyone, and despite Flint's snort -"Children's stories!"- Tanis turned to the Red Robe. "What do you sense?"
"A great and powerful magic has been laid on this wood." Raistlin spoke quietly, thoughtfully.
"Evil?"
"Only..." the human hesitated, and Dalamar thought he saw a flicker of something like fear in the mage's hourglass eyes as they darted his way. "Only to those who bring evil in with them.
"Then you are the only ones who need fear this forest." Sturm's voice was cold.
Dalamar was gripped with an overwhelming urge to take the knight's sword and impale the pompous Solamnic on it. He rubbed his eyes and forced the anger away. He must be getting tired if Sturm's jabs were getting to him. The forest wasn't helping either.
Raistlin didn't respond to Sturm's taunt either. When they got going, he hung behind, motioning to the Dark elf to join him. "You should leave."
Dalamar choked. "You know very well I'm not leaving without you. Besides, what would I leave for? We told Tanis the choice he gave us was no choice at all, what changed your mind?"
Raistlin sighed. "I know, but this place... They-" he pointed at the group in front of them- "see a normal wood, perhaps even more than that; they see a pleasant wood. I see a dark and forbidding place. I can only shudder at the thought of what you are seeing." He stared off into the boughs of a tree that -to Dalamar at least- appeared so twisted it seemed about to fall and crush anyone one the path, it's branches reaching out over the path to catch at their clothing.
The elven mage nodded, then the meaning of what his human companion had said sunk in. "You... you can... /see/ this place? Your eyes..."
Raistlin smiled grimly. "Yes, this place is not affected by my curse. I told Half-Elven the enchantment was powerful, and I meant it." Again, he looked conflicted. Then: "Dalamar, you are /in danger/. This place... I said it was only dangerous to those who bring evil with them-"
The elf cut him off, "Raistlin, we'll be in danger no matter where we go. This is a danger of enchantment and magic, what we're best at. I would rather be in here and in danger-" He dropped his voice, "Than out there at the mercy of those creatures."
The Red Robe shook his head helplessly. "I know. It's no choice at all. Just please be careful. We have best be on our guard, no matter what they think." He jerked his hand towards the rest of the companions.
Dalamar nodded grimly, thinking that there was no chance in the Abyss he was letting his guard down in a place like this.
They walked on, watching the woods.
In the hollows of a thousand trunks, unseen eyes watched them back.
~ ~
As they walked, the wood only grew gloomier, some of the trees were bare, even though autumn had only just arrived, and stood like dry skeletons beside the path. Nothing moved, even when the wind blew. Nothing stirred, not even a bird or insect. The hostile feeling seemed to increase as they drew deeper. Dalamar shivered, and hung back beside Raistlin, /Go back!/ something inside was screaming, /You are not welcome here!/
And yet, everyone save himself and Raistlin seemed to be oblivious, Tanis even hung back to ask Raistlin if he was /sure/ this was Darken Wood, according to Tasslehoff's map, the wood was probably further south.
Raistlin said nothing, and Dalamar didn't trust himself to speak, so they ignored Tanis and walked on in silence.
It was hard to reconcile his jesting words eariler with the twisted reality of Darken Wood, but Dalamar knew that, however terrible this place might be, it was better off to be talking their chances in here, than be out there with the reptile-men and have no chance at all.
It was growing dark, that time when everything appears to have been leeched of its colour until it resembles a surreal charcoal sketch, and shapes are vague and indistinct.
The path seemed to have shrunkm to a thin ribbon in the half light and the trees appeared to have mover in closer, their long branches like the bones of the dead.
The path had led them to a large clearing. A barren expanse of knotted grass stretched to the left of the trail, surrounded on all sides by gnarled and twisted trees looking for all the world like grim besiegers. A weed-choked trickle wound its way out from a deep hollow around sharp rocks to form a small stream.
Dalamar could only guess what the others saw as they beheld the glade, but they seemed eager to enter it and looked annoyed when the human mage warned them against leaving the path.
Tanis sighed and spoke shortly, "Raistlin, the path is in plain sight. Anyway, I told you, I don't think this is Darken Wood. Look at the map-"
The Red Robe ignored the map and the Half-elf threw up his hands. "Fine! Stay there all night, but don't expect us to join you."
"You are all fools," Raistlin murmured. "This is Darken Wood, as you will see before the night has ended. It is true, I need rest, but I will not leave the path." With that, the young mage sat down on the trail.
Dalamar walked up and sat beside him. "No power on Krynn would have me leave the path, night /or/ day."
Raistlin's controlled mask slipped, and the Dark elf was stunned to see how the human looked... almost... /scared/. "Don't, please. You /are/ in danger Dalamar, and believe me that if I could keep walking through the night I would. We won't be safe until we're out of this place, and the sooner the better."
The others seemed to be slightly amused at Raistlin's actions, and Caramon came over to talk to them, much to their distaste. "Raist, don't let that elf spook you, there's nothing to be scared of. Join us, Tas has gone for wood, and maybe I can shoot a rabbit-"
Raistlin's voice was shockingly loud. "/Shoot/ nothing! /Harm/ nothing in Darken Wood! Neither plant nor tree, bird or animal."
Surprisingly, Tanis agreed, although Flint grumbled that elves never wanted to kill, period. "Well," the Dwarf added with a wary look at Dalamar. "/Most/ elves."
Tasslehoff returned with some firewood, which he assured Raistlin he had only picked up off the ground, but no one could make the fire light. Eventually, the Red Robe stuck his staff into the ground and spoke the command word- "/Shirak./"
Somehow, this only made the forest even more terrifying; the magical light flickered on the grotesque warps in the trees, teasingly flickering over the darkness and only served to emphasise the feeling of malevolence. Dalamar slid closer to Raistlin, drawing comfort from the mage's warm body against his own.
"You seem to sense this place better that me," he said softly against Raistlin's hair. "What would happen if one of us harmed something from the wood?"
The young mage shuddered. "I understand this place better that you because I am not as... overwhelmed as the others or yourself. This forest welcomes those of good and is hostile to those of a... darker leaning. I, as neither, can see this place more clearly for what it is. As to your question... I don't know, but I hope we never find out."
They stayed together as the others organised watches. Dalamar couldn't image going to sleep, no matter how tired he felt.
It was only later that he guessed Half-Elven had been the one to break Raistlin's warning, by going down to the brook and drinking from it. As it was, he only knew that one moment the group had been alone in the glade, and the next they were surrounded.
Dalamar's blood froze in his veins and, in some distant, still-coherent place in his mind, he thought how fitting it was that such a terrible place should have such horrific guardians.
They were dead.
The fleeting corpse-light that outlined their bodies shimmering over dreadful remembered wounds and even more dreadfully remembered blades.
He didn't remember standing up. Whether it had been meant as a futile gesture to protect Raistlin or to an even more futile attempt to flee, he didn't know. From somewhere behind him, he heard the Red Robed mage order him to get down, his voice sharp with fear, to get behind him, that no weapons or magic they possessed could hurt these creatures.
As one, the undead turned their shattered, skull-like faces towards Dalamar. As one, they drew their swords. As one, they advanced.
The Dark elf paled. He stepped backwards, off the path, and into a looming yew tree.
Back pressed against the trunk, he stared back at the undead, eyes wide with terror.
Raistlin was still on the path, his robes looking like pooled blood in the light of his staff. He got and started towards Dalamar, staff held out in front of him. However, Caramon gave a cry and rushed up, grabbed his brother from behind and pulled him away, ignoring the mage's low howl of rage as he tried to pull himself free.
The undead were closer now, close enough that the elven wizard could feel the freezing cold of the grave that clung to them. /'Only evil to those who bring evil in with them'/. The words sang in Dalamar's head.
Raistlin swung the Staff of Magius into his brother's face, lit crystal slamming into the big man's thick skull, stunning him long enough for the mage to free himself. He moved to stand beside Dalamar, his face pale under the golden sheen, his eyes wide with fear.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, the elven mage was struggling to think of something -anything- that could get him out. Raistlin’s voice came back again, mockingly -'only dangerous to those who bring evil with them'-, and his own arrogant reply: 'This is a danger of enchantment and magic, what we're best at.'
Fool, fool, /fool/. He had been so foolish, and it would cost him his life.
/Their/ lives.
"Get behind me." Raistlin's voice was low, commanding.
The words snapped the Dark elf from his shock. "No, Raistlin-"
"Get /behind me/!" The dead warriors were yet closer. The closest, one taller that the others and wearing a shimmering crown, tilted its blade towards Dalamar's chest.
It was only at that moment that the elf realised that throughout this, the undead had been utterly silent; they had made no noise on the grass, or in drawing their blades.
"Get behind me! They will not attack me." Raistlin's voice had risen to a shriek.
Finally, guessing that Dalamar was either unable or unwilling to move of his own accord, he grabbed his lover and shoved him behind him.
The leader halted. Silently, it made a gesture: /Step aside/.
Raistlin shook his head. "You will not harm me, and I will not let you harm him."
Almost regretfully, the leader stretched a skeletal hand out towards the young wizard.
It didn't touch him. It didn't have to, something about the proximity triggered a terrible coughing fit. Raistlin doubled over, hacking and choking until blood flowed from his mouth.
Dalamar, who had bent down over his fallen lover, now straightened. It was only just sinking in that he was going to /die/. He could expect no assistance from anyone else in the group, and Raistlin was unable to help himself.
He was helpless against the dead.
The leader didn't use its sword; merely the touch of one of the corpse-light hands was enough to promise death. The Dark elf felt dizzy. He couldn't seem to breathe. Couldn't seem to think. Couldn't seem to do anything but watch that terrible, grave-cold claw coming to take his life away.
Then, from the clearing, came a blinding flash.
It was so bright and dazzling that it took a few moments for Dalamar to see what colour it was. It seemed to turn the whole forest white and the aftershocks were a blaze of blue.
/Blue./
The staff.
Goldmoon held the staff high, but she was clearly not the one who had commanded it ablaze.
Dalamar threw up his arm the shield his eyes from the glare. When he lowered it, the undead had retreated back to the edges of the clearing, their ghostly swords were sheathed, and he and Raistlin were alone.
The silence was deafening.

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