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Red on Red	By : Sylviana_of_Qualinost Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 4499 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonlance or any of the characters. DL belongs to Wizards of the Coast and Weis and Hickman. No money is made from these installments.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 4: Ivor's Assignment. A Journey Begins.
It was not long that Silviana had to recover from her journey to Langtree. The twins were on a mission, given to them by the baron. Burning with fire from their first campaign season, Caramon and Raistlin approached Ivor with a request to put them to some sort of work during the off-season. Having had a taste of battle glory, the brothers were loathe to return to Solace for the winter, no matter the appeal of Otik's spiced potatoes. Ivor, remembering well his own first days as a soldier, understood the restlessness of young blood and obliged them with a simple task that would be beneficial for him and satiate the twin's eagerness..
Hope's End was still in crisis. Although no longer threatened by annihilation at the hands of strange and ominous forces, the town was in a severe economic rut, trying hard to recover from long months of commercial inactivity. Everyone was hard put to work producing and selling what they could in these last few days of summer. It served as no help that there were now large groups of marauding highway robbers lurking in the nearby areas outside town. These were mostly men who had been part of the army mustered a few months back to invade Hope's End and who fled when it was clear that their side was losing. Now they gathered in the shadows, trying to get their revenge on the citizens of the town for depriving them of what they thought was their well-earned loot. Trading caravans that left or came to the city were attacked and robbed, the people killed and disposed off.
An appeal came to Langtree from Good King Wilhelm, asking if the Mad Baron would be able to send some of his men back to deal with this growing problem that was making it difficult for honest folk to travel the roads and make a living. Luckily for Wilhelm, Ivor always had a handful of men hanging around after campaign season, looking for odd jobs. Raistlin and Caramon, along with their now constant companion Scrounger and several other mercenaries were given the task to clear out the area and report back on the conditions. Silviana, newly arrived under circumstances not too clearly explained to the baron or any others, was attached to this small force of twenty or so men. This caused some chagrin among the more seasoned mercenaries, who after all saw a defenseless young elf-maiden that would prove a burden on the mission. The younger men were thrilled, none of them having ever seen an elf woman before and now struck dumb by her beauty were overly excited by her presence. In either case, Silviana caused a commotion which troubled Ivor of Langtree. He even went so far as to question Horkin about his decision to send Silviana, untried as she was, along with the contingent.
“Are you sure this is wise?” The baron asked his war-mage, dark eyebrows furrowed. “These men after all, are not knights of Solomnia. There will be crude jests and maybe even attempts at persuading the lady to do some very ...unladylike things, what with no senior officers present to enforce order. Not to mention she has never so much as been in a skirmish. Sending an untrained mage into battle could be fatal to us and not the enemy.”
“Bah! Battle he says!” Horkin snorted, “they will be clearing out the rubble- getting rid of lowly murderers. Besides, Silviana knows what she is getting into. She does not propose to fight- only to heal- which is never a bad thing.” He paused, remembering the frightening hardness in Silviana's eyes when he had attempted to bar her from joining the Langtree troops, then added, “and any man attempting to bed her need only have one look at her when she is angry and all the blood will drain from the lower part of his anatomy. No, Ivor, I would not worry about the girl.”
Still uneasy, the baron conceded. After all, there were going to be some old and trusted men there and as Horkin said... they were only clearing out the rubble.
So it was, that once the first days of autumn hit Ansalon, the twins, along with Scrounger and Silviana and a small group of mercenaries set out on the road back to Hope's End. Riding at the rear of the procession, Caramon was tersely and vaguely filled in by his brother about the nature of Silviana's attachment to them.
“So you have been send here to heal Raist?” The big warrior looked with such hope at the elf-woman that Silviana felt embarrassed.
“To study me, Caramon,” Raistlin said indignantly. “I cannot be healed. But it does seem I have become a curiosity to the Conclave.” The young mage smiled bitterly.
Seeing Raistlin's discomfiture, Silviana chimed in.
“It is in the name of magical inquiry, I assure you,” she said trying to sound nonchalant and smiled inwardly seeing how the fists Raistlin clenched tightly around his reigns loosened. He could understand the desire for learning the arcane and would respect her position in regard to him on those grounds. But any suggestion of trying to help him and he would resent her, as it would only remind him of his weakness.
“Oh, uh, sure. Well that's um.. interesting.” Caramon was uncertain what to call it at all.
“Yes, very interesting.” Raistlin shot a lingering glance at the elf-woman and she caught and held his gaze. The simple fact that she looked into his face without wavering was not lost on the mage, who was used to people averting their eyes from him in fright. He found that he was thankful for this; thankful for being able to look upon something undying and fresh to his eyes while everything around wilted, caught in his merciless hour-glass pupils. He had forgotten over this past year the simple comfort of being able to look at someone and not have them shirk away. Above all, Raistlin was astounded that there was no disgust or pity in Silviana's grass green eyes- only fascination of a scholarly type which he could relate too, although it made him feel awkward to be on the receiving end of it.
As for Silviana, she found herself strangely excited, having met her charge and realizing that she was presented with a puzzle that she could not instantly solve. She was thrilled at the prospect of this challenge, allured by the suggestion of glory that she would acquire if she managed to learn something original- perhaps to propose a solution to the problem? But no, she was getting ahead of herself and reprimanded herself for daydreaming of a future without first examining the present. Raistlin and she had had so little time alone together that there was not much to go on as of yet. Impatiently waiting for her next opportunity to have him to herself, Silviana eagerly devoured Raistlin with her eyes. The strange metallic skin glistened like dull gold in the sunlight, complemented strangely by the long white hair. Silviana wanted to touch it with her fingers and feel its consistency. Did it feel like any other skin? Was it as hard as metal? How would it react to magic? Silviana made a note to test this.
Silviana did not have long to wait, choosing to do a few tests as soon as camp was set up for the night. Against some protests from Raistlin, the elf-woman persuaded him into sharing a tent with her, leaving Caramon to share with Scrounger. Raistlin, first strictly against the idea, relented when Silviana made the astute guess that Caramon was a snorer and she would make a quieter companion, allowing the mage to concentrate on his studies without disruption. Silviana was proud of herself at so quickly discerning how to ingratiate the young man to herself. Of course she also understood, being a magic user, that the magic came first and as such it was an easy guess to make.
That first night after dinner, Silviana sat cross-legged on the ground beside Raistlin, who was settled comfortably in his bed-roll, reading a book. Instead of asking for his attention right away, she patiently waited until he was done a particular section and put the book away, turning his golden eyes unto her.
“I suppose it is time that I make myself available for your perusal?” He asked caustically.
“That would be ideal,” Silviana smiled at him warmly and caught his slight sliver of shock at that gesture. “I have been coming to some conclusions. I will need to ask you now- do you remember enough of the Test to tell me how your skin came to be that peculiar shade?”
Raistlin earnestly tried to think back on that time but, as always, there was but one thing he truly remembered about the Test. He shook his head, frowning at having to recall that ordeal.
“Alright. That makes things slightly more difficult but I think I might have an idea of how to test what your skin does.”
“What it does?” Raistlin sat up in his blankets, genuinely intrigued. “You mean to say ...my skin is not a mere curse but has magical properties of its own?”
“If it is what I think it is,” Silviana responded thoughtfully.
“And what do you think it is?” Raistlin snapped, getting impatient. Silviana had that far-away contemplative look in her eyes that his friend Tanis half-elven got when he was thinking hard. Which meant he could be waiting a while. Must be an elven trait, Raistlin thought.
“Tell me, have you been exposed to direct magical attack from an enemy mage since taking your Test?” Silviana answered his question with one of her own.
“No I have not,” Raistlin admitted. “What does that have-” he cut himself off, suddenly cluing in to what she was thinking.
Silviana nodded to herself.
“What I tell you now I recall from some very dusty histories of my people- so dusty they were thought mythical. But you never know- so much knowledge has been lost through the ages,” the elf-woman's voice held a note of bitter regret. “Long ago, before the First Dragon Wars, there was a black-robed Silvanesti wizard named Lithonion Karinath. He was the first follower of Nuitari of any elven race. Before him, the elves had had no rules to dictate that our mages were to adhere to the doctrine of Solinari alone. It simply was unprecedented. In his novelty, Lithonion gained a strong following which shocked and angered many of the Silvanesti. This resulted in a civil war among the elves. During this time, the dark elven sorcerers were said to have invented a protective shield that would guard them from the magical attacks of their enemies. The shield was embedded inside the skin itself, with the result that it would glimmer gold.”
Raistlin felt the excitement of a scholar who at long last found an answer he had sought.
“I have spent some time in the Tower of Wayreth looking for any tidbit of information regarding my skin and came up with nothing!” He exclaimed loudly enough that Silviana, used to his whispering voice, jumped. “Where did you learn this? What was the book called?”
Silviana blushed.
“House Mystic has its own store of books on magical history,” she answered “many of them hidden away in cellars and forgotten. This particular one was an 'Annotated History of Elvish Defensive Spells.' There is one thing however that troubles me. The knowledge of how to cast this spell has long been lost. Yet, if your skin is in fact turned into a magic shield, you must have done it yourself, Raistlin.”
“Which means I somehow have knowledge of a lost arcane lore which I could not possibly have nor remember how I could have obtained it.” Raistlin whispered thoughtfully, all the while he felt something familiar fly around the boundary of his subconscious mind. Somehow, this seemed right. But how would he know such magic?
“If you do not remember, it certainly explains why you are... stuck like this. You see, the shield is supposed to be reversible. So since you cannot remember the Test, or how you came to cast the spell, you would not know how to end its effects.”
“Reversible?” Raistlin almost laughed. “You mean there is a way to return to the way I was before?”
Silviana shook her head.
“That knowledge too is lost to time. Anyhow, I must still test my theory. I will need to touch you, Raistlin. Will you allow me to do so?” Silviana asked this cautiously, having noted in the past few days that the young mage was very averse to physical contact, recoiling anytime someone touched him. Even now he tensed at the prospect, but felt strangely grateful for having been asked. Choking back his initial repulsion, Raistlin nodded.
Carefully, the elf-woman reached out and grasped one of his thin arm with both her hands, lifting it up to hover parallel to the floor. She was immediately struck by the unnatural heat of his body and almost dropped his arm in surprise but recovered quickly. In fact, she thought to herself, the heat was pleasant. Holding up Raistlin's arm with one hand, Silviana slowly traced the fingers of the other up and down his forearm, getting a feel for the texture of his skin. It was, if anything, exceptionally smooth and soft and Silviana was startled to find herself dreading to let him go.
Raistlin caught his breath, at first fighting an urge to pull away, then letting himself relax, becoming accustomed to her light and curious touch. After a minute, he noticed that he was even enjoying it, as the sensitive skin of his forearm began to tingle in places where her nimble fingers touched him. It was not long before the odd tingle spread down into his belly and settled there in a warm knot. Suddenly, Raistlin felt himself flush and looked up into Silviana's eyes, noting that her cheeks too were red. An awkward silence ensued and Silviana's fingers stopped their innocent caress of his arm abruptly.
“Was that part of your test?” Raistlin cleared his throat uncertainly.
“Y-yes,” Silviana lied then regained composure. She would not let that odd feeling creeping up on her get in the way of her studies. “Now I am going to go further. I am going to call a bit of lightning energy into my hand and send a small jolt of it into your arm. If this is in fact a shield, then the energy will glance off and likely hit me instead.” Silviana grimaced at the prospect.
“And if it is not the shield?” Raistlin asked with slight amusement.
“Then you will end up with a small burn,” the elf-woman grinned.
Raistlin was not thrilled at the idea but nodded anyway, his hunger for knowledge getting the better of him.
Silviana concentrated, summoning power into her being. This particular spell, when enacted in full force would result in her being able to shoot a giant lightning bolt out of her hand. Silviana, however, did not have this in mind, but rather felt for the energy currents in the air with her conscience and drew only the slightest fraction of it into her fingertips. Saying a single command word, she watched as tiny bolts of white light sprung up around her digits. Concentrating even harder, she willed the bolts to shoot out towards Raistlin's outstretched arm.
What happened next took place in a matter of milliseconds. Silviana's tiny lightning rebounded from Raistlin's skin and flew back into her open palm with double force and speed. It collided with the elf-woman's hand with a loud cracking sound and sent her flying back to the opposite end of the tent where she landed in a heap on her own bed-roll. Nursing her injured hand, Silviana gasped in pain then burst out into self-satisfied laughter.
“I was right! I was right!” She repeated incredulously to herself several times. Then looking at her burnt palm winced and swore lightly.
Raistlin was by her side in that instant with the daisy ointment. Sitting on the edge of her bedroll, he leaned over and took her hand into his, bringing her palm forward toward him and examining the damage. He sucked in his breath. The skin was raw and blisters were already swelling.
“Not so small a burn,” he whispered softly and opening the jar of ointment began to apply it to the injury with deft fingers, careful not to inflict too much pain. Silviana bit her lip as a sensation of burning liquid heat invaded her body in response to his touch. She groaned lightly. Raistlin looked over at her. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, feeling herself burn all over, ecstatic at her triumph of solving this puzzle and strangely affected by his nearness.
“No, not at all. It does not matter anyway. I was right!” She said softly, glowing with pride.
“Yes, you were.” Raistlin smiled at her without realizing it, thinking that pride suited her well. He leaned over to a pouch which held gauze and taking out the bandage started to wrap it around the burn.
“Oh, but I must write all this down at once,” Silviana sat up and stared with ire at her injured hand. “This may cause a problem. I cannot write left handed.”
Raistlin finished his work and let go of her wrapped hand but remained sitting on her bedroll.
“If you dictate what you wish me to write I can take down the notes for you,” Raistlin offered, a bit shyly.
With a wide grin, Silviana grabbed her notebook and quill and handed them to the young mage.
Just at that moment, the tent flap flew open and in barged a concerned looking Caramon.
“Are you two alright? We all heard a loud crackling sound...” The big man started but was rudely interrupted by his twin.
“Yes, and your response time is impeccable my brother,” Raistlin's voice was contemptuous and Silviana found herself cringing at his tone. Truly his mood shifts were startling sometimes. He almost seemed happy a moment ago. “Had we been under attack no doubt we would be dead by now.”
Caramon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, scratching his head.
“Sorry, Raist. We were all certain it was some magic the two of you were working and didn't want to interrupt.” At that Caramon looked up and noticed for the first time that Raistlin and Silviana sat closely together on one bedroll. His eyes shifted from his brother to the elf woman and then back again. “I just thought I would check up on you.” The warrior seemed uncertain now.
“I thank you for your concern Caramon. You were right. It was magic. Now please, leave us to our studies.” Raistlin glared at him intently. His bigger twin shrugged his shoulders.
“Sure, Raist.” With a last strange look at his brother and Silviana, Caramon turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Raistlin dipped a quill and looked over at Silviana expectantly. Taking a deep breath, she began to dictate.
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Red on Red