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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Crepuscule
Chapter six- Of Rejection
So come on come in inside of me
Let's spread it all around
-Northern Soul, the Verve
Shoulders still shaking from the spasms, Raistlin struggled to his feet. He was clutching the Staff of Magius so hard his knuckles were white. Swaying slightly and fighting to draw breath, he started towards the massed ranks of the undead.
Wordlessly, beyond speech, Dalamar reached out to stop him.
"Stay back!" The human mage's hacking snarl was frighteningly loud in the still clearing. To the rest of the group, still standing stunned in the clearing, he must have looked bizarrely calm, but Dalamar had been around Raistlin long enough to know when the human wizard was truly afraid.
Still, it was only when the young Red Robe looked back swiftly to check if he was all right that Dalamar knew just how scared his lover was.
The Dark elf made no such attempt of appearance; his knees gave way suddenly and he fell to the ground. It was all he could do not to pass out. He was certain that if the undead didn't kill Raistlin, the mage's coughing would. Dalamar tried again to get up and stop him, but he was barely able to stay conscious and just fell back down, gasping for breath as the world spun around him. He was shaking uncontrollably.
"Raist!" Dalamar pressed his forehead to the cool ground, Caramon's yell cutting through his dazed mind like nails on slate.
"Stay back." Raistlin might have been able to manipulate his expression to look impassive, but his voice betrayed him.
"Come back, you idiot," Dalamar whispered into the damp grass, unable to make his voice any louder.
"What are you going to do?" That was Tanis.
"Stay back!"
Flat on the grass, Dalamar raised his head and watched, horrified, as Raistlin continued to approach the undead leader, the same one that had nearly ripped the Dark elf's life away only a few moments ago.
Dalamar knew he wasn't the only one to see Raistlin's hands shake as he whispered the words to the spell. /"Ast bilak parbilakir, suh tangus moipiar"/
The Dark elf shuddered. Bad enough being anywhere near these undead, but to actually /speak/ to them...
The leader of the undead warriors appeared to regard Raistlin for a few minutes, spirit lights edging its empty eye sockets. Then it stretched out a hand to touch the young mage.
Dalamar could have sworn a moment ago he couldn't speak above a whisper, but the clearing rang with his scream- "Raistlin!"
Lost in the magic, the young wizard didn't seem to hear him. "You who have been long dead, use my living voice to tell of your bitter sorrow." Raistlin might have been oblivious to Dalamar's cry, but he was clearly not oblivious of the danger he was in; his trembling hands were clenched and his voice was tight. "Then give us leave to pass through this forest, for our purpose is /not evil/, as you will see if you read our hearts." This last sentence was spoken a bit too fast.
Dalamar didn't think he had ever seen Raistlin so afraid. But then, he probably didn't look much better. He had never felt so terrified either.
The spectre’s hand stopped moving. It paused again, and then Raistlin spoke, but the voice was not the one the Dark elf knew, nor any he would care to hear again.
Nothing could have prepared Dalamar, or indeed any of them, for the voice of the dead commander. It was deep and seemed to echo, as if coming from an open grave. The words chilled the air. "Who are you that have brought the Blue Crystal Staff to Darken Wood?"
The elven mage looked up through the tree branches, quietly praying to Nuitari that the dead were /not/ after the staff, but there was no sign of the black moon in the sky. Somehow, he was unsurprised; this was no place for the Gods of Darkness.
He wouldn't hang around here either.
Tasslehoff darted forward. Flint recovered from his shock long enough to make a grab for the kender's topknot but missed, and the little man dodged away and hurried towards the undead.
"I am Tasslehoff Burrfoot, but my friends call me Tas. Who are you?"
Oh well, Dalamar thought, it might as well be the kender as anyone else, at least he wouldn't suggest that they finish him off.
The spectres were clearly not in the mood to talk. "We are warriors, pledged to guard this land from evil. Tell us, why do you plead innocent intent when you bring evil into our land?"
Tasslehoff glanced back at the Dark elf, still sprawled under the yew tree. "Oh, him? He's evil, or at least, I /think/ he is, because he wears black robes. But Raistlin's been pretty nasty too, he set fire to my topknot once, and Flint's beard, and Sturm moustaches, but they've grown back now..."
The undead ignored the prattling of the kender and turned their sightless eyes on Dalamar. Their hollow, empty voices ripped through the Red Robe's throat. "The Goddess has deemed that you may pass. Begone, Dark One, and never return." Then the spectres hand close around Raistlin's arm.
Dalamar could never remember what he screamed in that horrible, heart-stopping moment. Neither did he ever know how he managed to cross the clearing. He knew only that the thought that he was going to lose Raistlin forever rose up and swallowed the world and blocked everything else in its terrible, crushing misery.
When he came back to himself, he was kneeling on the ground with both arms wrapped around Raistlin's thin waist, his face buried in those red robes and a golden hand was gently stroking his hair.
"Shh... It's alright... I'm fine..." the human wizard was whispering softly in his own voice, his other arm still caught in the spectre’s ghostly grasp. "We have to go now... We've been summoned... We must go..."
Hands still knotted in his lover's robes, Dalamar looked up, only now conscious of the tears blurring his sight. Raistlin's face was transfixed in the ecstasy of the magic and his golden skin seemed almost to glow with power, barely containing the energy that coursed through the young mage's veins like blood.
The dead leader turned, pulling the Red Robe out of the elf's hands, and stepped into the forest, the undead parting to let them pass.
Dazed, bewildered, and frankly scared out of his wits, the Dark elf staggered to his feet. He had no idea what was happening, but he'd been damned if he let any undead take Raistlin from him.
Behind him, he could hear the companions talking, but whether to him or to each other he didn't know. Neither did he care.
Summoning strength from somewhere, Dalamar stepped forward into the pitch darkness of Darken Wood. He found himself stumbling forward, the crashing shrieks of long-ago battles ringing in his ears from the long-dead minds of its victims. Instinctively, the Dark elf raised a hand to fend off the blows he was sure were going to fall, and finally half ran, half fell though the haze and into a blasted, barren glade.
The dead were gone.
Raistlin stood silently in the centre of the clearing, and even as Dalamar watched, the exhaustion of casting caught up with him and the Red Robe's legs gave way.
The Dark elf caught him just in time to stop the young wizard cracking his skull on a rock. Behind him, he could hear the others blundering through the trees, but he ignored them, clutching Raistlin tightly.
Slowly, the human mage's thin arms wound around him in turn and Raistlin's golden eyes opened again.
Dalamar thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.
"Are you alright?" The voice was a cracked whisper.
Somehow, Dalamar felt his lips twitch into a shaky smile. "You were the one they touched, worry about yourself first."
Raistlin shook his head, smiling slightly and rested his head against the elf's chest. "They meant me no harm, and their touch only kills it they wish it. You... They wanted you dead."
Black clad arms tightened around the thin wizard. "Yes." Dalamar's voice was taut. "And you were right, we should never have set foot in this place. Nuitari's dark! We were nearly killed!"
The younger mage's eyes drifted close. "Are they gone now?"
This time the Dark elf couldn't help but smile. "Yes, they're gone, you can rest."
The red robed mage closed his eyes with a sigh, and his breathing eased into sleep.
"But not here." The booming voice rang out from to their right. Dalamar's head snapped around so fast his black hair lashed Raistlin's face.
Solinari had reappeared, although there was still no sign of the other two moons, and its faint light lit up the face of the man who had spoken.
No, not a man, Dalamar could see that now. There was enough light for his elven eyes to pick out the horse's body.
"A centaur," Dalamar whispered, surprised.
"Indeed, Dark elf. And this is a sorry time that we had to allow one such as thou into our forest." The centaur stepped out and the moonlight flickered off the sharp point of the spear he was carrying. "Put thy puny weapons down, ye be surrounded and have not a chance."
Dalamar grimaced; it would be a pretty turn of affairs if they escaped the dead only to die at the hands of these creatures, the Dark elf had no doubt that the centaur was telling the truth, and as to assuage any doubts them might have had, the rest of the herd trotted out of the woods.
Dalamar drew Raistlin closer.
Tanis sheathed his sword.
Flint sneezed.
"Thee must come with us," the lead centaur ordered imperiously.
"My brother is unconscious." For the first time, the Dark elf was glad for Caramon's protectiveness; he had a feeling the centaurs would not have believed him had he spoken. "He can't go anywhere."
"Place him upon my back," was the cool answer, the centaur's dark eyes flickered over the two mages in distaste. "In fact, if any of you be tired, thee may ride where we go."
Dalamar got up, half carrying the unconscious mage, but he hadn't come more than a few steps towards the centaur before the butt of a spear knocked him to the ground. Raistlin fell and Caramon caught him.
The centaur advanced on the Dark elf. "Thou will not touch me. Thy has not the right." The dark eyes narrowed, distaste turning to loathing.
Dalamar got to his feet. The blow had knocked the air from his lungs, and his grey eyes were slits. "Unless you have failed notice, my /lover/," he drew out the word, watching Caramon squirm, "is unable to ride. Someone will have to stay with him to make sure he doesn't fall off."
"And someone will." The centaur's voice was grimly amused as he turned to Caramon. "Climb up. I can bear the weight of both thee and thy brother will need thy support."
And leaving the enraged Dark elf behind, the centaur and the delighted Caramon rode away, Raistlin slumped against the centaur's back with Caramon's arm around his waist.
Dalamar ground his fists into his eyes. He was filled with the kind of impotent rage he had not felt since he had been exiled, longing to lash out, but knowing that the first blow would be his last. Here, like in Silvanesti, they were longing for the excuse to do away with him, and he could not give them that.
The others copied Caramon and clambered on the centaur's broad backs. Dalamar didn't even try. He'd walk all night if he had to rather than abase himself to rely on such creatures. Besides, they'd probably just hit him again.
A few of the companions shot him amused looks as the centaurs galloped off down the trail, leaving him alone.
The mixture of fury and the crushing weight of the rest of the last night's emotions was enough to make Dalamar force back tears of anger. The trail in front of him was as black as night, and even his elvensight couldn't help him. His chest ached abominably.
The elven mage looked up at the night sky. The constellations blazed above him and Solinari shone down, but there were only blank holes where the other two moons would otherwise be. Fixing his gaze on the space where he knew Nuitari had risen, he whispered a short prayer. He needed help. "Nuitari, Dark Son, aid me. Guide me through this darkness not of your making. Guide me through this forest of fools and weaklings."
Nothing happened, but the Dark elf was sure he was seen a brief flash of the dark light of his patron's moon. Clenching his fists, Dalamar walked into the pitch darkness of the wood.
He didn't know how long he walked, he couldn't see the path, could barely see his own hands, and time lost its meaning in such blackness. But somehow, whether through Nuitari's blessing or because whoever owned the wood didn't want him to get lost, he finally found the others.
In fact, he nearly walked into them. It was no lighter here than anywhere else, and he almost tripped over Flint.
"Ow!" the dwarf growled. "Who was that?"
"Who do you think?" Dalamar snarled back. "Had a nice ride?"
"Oh, great." Half-human's voice, sounding irritated. "Well, I suppose that means we're all here. Weaponless, but all here."
"Weaponless?" Dalamar groped at his boot. Sure enough, the dagger he kept there was gone.
"I have my staff," Goldmoon offered.
And a lot of good that will do, the Dark elf snarled to himself. It's far more likely to heal anything you try and hit with it. Yet when I try to touch it, it would take my hand off. Justice.
However, the voice that spoke was not his sharp tone, but a deep voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "And a formidable weapon that is, daughter of Que-shu, a weapon for good, intended to combat illness and injure and disease."
"But only for those you like," Dalamar muttered. He was cold, tired, and scared, and he didn't give a damn if anyone heard him.
"Silence!" The voice whip-lashed through the darkness, and the Dark elf felt a crack of pain across his back, as if someone had struck him with an iron rod. He doubled over, trying to breath. "You are here only on the volition of the Goddess, Dark elf. Be thankful you were spared, for you would have been slain by the guardians."
There was a moment's silence, broken only Dalamar's gasps. Whatever it was had winded him badly, and sparks danced in front of his eyes.
"Who are you?" Tanis' voice was unsure.
"We won't harm you," Caramon reassured.
Speak for yourself, Dalamar thought, eyes glittering in the dim light. He was completely prepared to throttle the speaker for putting Raistlin and himself through the complete hell the last few hours had been.
"Of course you won't." The voice was amused. "You have no weapons. I will return them when the time is propitious."
In other words, never. The Dark elf spotted Caramon, the big man struggling with the word 'propitious'. The elf's keen eyes could just make out the flash of red of Raistlin's robes, the younger mage still unconscious in his brother's arms. Dalamar's blood boiled.
"No one brings weapons into Darken Wood," the voice continued. "Not even a knight of Solamnia. Do not fear, noble knight-"
The Dark elf tuned the voice out and wondered what had happened to his dagger. It had probably been abandoned beneath some tree, he thought, depressed, and the moons of magic would fall from the sky before anyone would give it back to him. A pity, it was a good blade, and well enchanted.
"-but even the great Huma laid the Dragonlance at my feet."
Dalamar was not the only one stunned by these words; Sturm gasped and stood. The elf's keen eyes saw the flicker of light on his armour. "Huma!" the knight gasped, astonished. "Who are you?"
"I am the Forestmaster." Clearly, the Forestmaster had a flair for the dramatic, because upon that pronouncement, the darkness lifted.
Dalamar blinked, the low light dazzling after accustoming his eyes to the near-total dark. Quickly, his eyes flickered over to Raistlin, lying where Caramon had left him. The young mage was unhurt, merely unconscious due to the sheer energy he'd expended in the last hour. He was dreadfully pale, but breathed easily; the coughing fit the undead guardians had caused had passed. Relieved that at least one of them was all right, the elven wizard slipped forward to his side, sparing a glance over his shoulder at the Forestmaster.
The Dark elf paused, then looked again, properly. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't this.
A unicorn stood on a high ledge, looking down at them all, its horn shining as brightly as any of the stars above them, and its dark eyes fixed on the little group.
Dalamar shut his eyes and forced down the grinding, insistent pain that threatened to resurface. There was something about this unicorn, this Forestmaster, that recalled in him memories of Silvanesti. The images danced in front of his eyes, released from the metal prison of iron he had locked them in, all the more beautiful and vivid for the fact that he would never see them again.
Crushing down the piecing remembrances that lacerated his heart, he jerked his head away from the mesmerising sight and bent over Raistlin, closing his eyes. Behind him, he heard the faint sound of the unicorn's hooves echoing around the sylvan grove he found himself in. This time, the Dark elf thought, staring blankly at the wall of trees, they were all seeing the same thing, but the atmosphere of the place stayed the same. He saw the same peaceful, beautiful clearing the others saw, but to Dalamar, everything was overlaid with a terrible aura of menace. The huge trees, standing like sentinels around the clearing, might have seemed protective to anyone else, but to the elven mage they appeared like guards appointed to keep those like himself out.
He took hold of Raistlin's hand and held it tight, a little too tight. The young mage stirred, his eyes flickered open and his hand clasped Dalamar's in turn. Mouthing silently, so no one could hear, Raistlin whispered, "Where are we?"
Silver eyes darted to make sure they were alone and couldn't be overheard. Sure enough, the others were too enraptured by the appearance of the Forestmaster to pay them any attention. Dalamar leant close and murmured into the human's ear, "I haven't the faintest idea."
Raistlin's thin lips twitched into a smile, then he threw an arm around the Dark elf's shoulders, levering himself upright. Dalamar took the opportunity to pull the other mage into a tight embrace. Red clad arms slid around him in turn and the black robed elf let out a low sigh, letting the stresses and terror of the evening out with his breath.
Raistlin's voice tickled his ear. "What happened to you?"
Dalamar smiled sadly in turn; he must look terrible indeed for the younger mage to forgo asking him first if he was all right. "It's been a rough evening." Now /that/ was an understatement.
The human rubbed the Dark elf's shoulders and back in consolation. They sat in silence, letting the tension of the last few hours slip from them, to be replaced with a deep exhaustion. They felt physically and emotionally drained, and Dalamar toyed with the idea of just curling up together on the grassy ground and falling asleep. They didn't, of course; it was far too dangerous here. Even now, the Forestmaster might decide to send the dead after them again, and even the Staff might not save them this time.
Dalamar rubbed his eyes and sighed again, then jumped as the Forestmaster's voice cut through the night. She wasn't talking to them, but to the others. At least, the Dark elf thought she must be as he hadn't turned around yet, but he doubted anyone in this place would offer them anything to eat, as she was doing now.
"Rest yourselves, you are tired and hungry. Food will be brought and fresh water for cleansing. You may put aside you watchfulness and fears for this evening." Definitely not talking to them. "Safety exists here, if it exists anywhere in this land tonight."
It was odd, only when the Forestmaster mentioned food Dalamar realised how hungry he was; it had been easy enough to forget in the panic, but right now, with everything relatively calm, he remembered that they had last eaten that morning, nearly a whole day away.
Caramon's grumble -"Probably more berries anyway"- coined a sneer from the Dark elf, although Dalamar couldn't help but agree that meat of some sort would be more than welcome.
Sturm looked worried at Caramon's words and hushed him, muttering that the Forestmaster would rather consider eating them first.
The two mages paid them no attention, watching as a group of centaurs brought lights, chairs, bowls of water, and spread a large tablecloth out on the grass. More than one shot Dalamar ugly looks, clearly furious about allowing a Dark elf into their forest. The black robed Silvanesti scowled back.
Raistlin looked from one to the other. "Did they harm you?"
As an answer, Dalamar opened his robes enough to reveal the spreading purple bruise marking his midriff where the centaur's spear had struck him earlier. Raistlin grimaced, gently running his fingers over the swelling. Light as the touch was, it sent sparks of pain shooting through the elf’s chest, and he drew away, pulling his robes closed.
"Sorry. Why did they..."
The Silvanesti shrugged. "I wanted to ride with you. They didn't want a /foul Dark elf/ touching them and made that-" He touched the bruising "-blatantly clear."
"And you had to walk?" Raistlin's voice was incredulous. Dalamar nodded. "And how precisely did I manage not to fall off?"
The Dark elf jerked his head in Caramon's direction and human's face contorted in rage. He said nothing, but Dalamar could feel the anger churning inside the young mage, indifference slowly being turned to hate. Feeling somewhat vindicated, the elven wizard kissed Raistlin's hollow cheek, drawing a thin smile from the human.
"Shall we?" Dalamar indicated the bowls of water the centaurs had left.
Raistlin nodded, offering his arm to the Dark elf for help. Dalamar pulled him upright and the two made their way over.
The water was clear, cold, and energizing. The elven wizard splashed his face and finally felt himself beginning to wake up from the haze of fear he had been in since night had fallen. He wet his fingers and carded it through his hair, pulling the knots out and composing himself before joining Raistlin beside the tablecloth.
The chairs looked hardly capable of supporting anyone. Dalamar supposed he and Raistlin could sit, they weighed little enough, but the chair's single thin leg would snap like a twig should Caramon make it bear his bulk. But somehow, despite all probability and more than a few arguments, the chairs were stronger than they looked. They were soon all seated, the elf sliding in gingerly, wondering if the seat would suddenly sprout thorns were he to touch it. Mercifully for both his dignity and his backside, it didn't.
Caramon sat on Raistlin's left, much to the mage's obvious disgust. Dalamar, on his right, sent the young wizard a sympathetic look and took his thin hand in his, gently playing with the long, golden fingers before pressing a kiss to the palm.
Caramon looked away, blushing scarlet.
The contact felt at once both intimate and familiar, a sweet relief from fear and stress despite the lack of privacy. Dalamar smiled gently against the mage’s hand and brushed his lips over the golden skin. Fingers stroked the side of his face and the Dark elf smiled again, stopping his ministrations and running one finger down the human mage's thin face. He tilted Raistlin's face up, and, ignoring the centaurs as they lifted up the tablecloth, he leant in and caught the human's lips with his own. If the previous touch had been a relief, this was galvanizing. Dalamar shut out the others, the Forestmaster, the centaurs, the whole world; and concentrated fully on the slender mage who was kissing him back with equal fervour.
The Dark elf lifted his hands to cup Raistlin's face, and felt his elbow collide with something. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the burning touch and looked over.
The tablecloth clearly had some form of enchantment on it, for, once the centaurs had lifted it, it stayed put, hovering at perfect table height. Everyone sitting there was pointedly ignoring the two of them -Caramon looking very unhappy-, save for Tasslehoff, who had stopped his investigations of the 'amazing floating tablecloth' and was staring at them interestedly.
Fighting the urge to cut off the kender's topknot and make him eat it, Dalamar dropped one hand under the makeshift table and caught Raistlin's hand in his own.
Several centaurs trotted over, carrying platters of food and eating utensils. Once again, the Silvanesti bore the brunt of a calculated insult; he was given neither plate nor cutlery. Stalwartly ignoring the deliberate offence, the Dark elf stared impassively back at them. After the nightmare with the undead, if they thought this petty mockery would daunt him then they would be very disappointed.
Raistlin scowled, and pushed his own plate towards Dalamar. "We'll share," he said shortly.
The formal atmosphere shrouding the clearing disappeared as everyone started to help themselves. Dalamar leant over Raistlin's place and stole a cut of venison from Caramon's platter; the big man had far too much on his plate already.
Tanis, who was sitting across from them, snorted, "I know that elves don't eat meat. Give that back to Caramon."
Dalamar said nothing. He cut the piece in question in half, and ate it. No, elves didn't normally eat meat, but Tanis would be surprise what you could steel yourself to eat if you were hungry enough. Meat had long since ceased to look distasteful.
The meal was good, and the company mostly quiet. Private conversations carried out in low voices and even Caramon was locked in a discussion between Tanis and the Forestmaster.
Raistlin ate slowly, occasionally stealing choice pieces of meat from Dalamar between a few mouthfuls of fruit and bread, the latter soaked in water so as not to aggravate his dry throat.
As the evening began to grind to a close, the platters were taken away, to be replaced with baskets of sweet shortbread..
After waiting for ten minutes for someone to ask the questions that were burning inside him, Dalamar leant over to whisper to Raistlin, "This Forestmaster seems knowledgeable on more than a few topics. Perhaps we could get some /important/ information out of this revel." He nodded at Tasslehoff, who was occupied in teaching the centaurs a trailsong. "I would speak, but they wouldn't listen to me."
Raistlin nodded, his soft voice cutting through the babble like a knife. "Forestmaster, today we fought loathsome creatures that we have never seen before on Krynn. Can you tell us of these?"
The silence was complete and abrupt. Everyone looked at each other grimly and Caramon spoke next. "They walk like men, but look like reptiles. They've clawed hands and feet and wings and they turn to stone when they die."
It was impossible for a unicorn to look sad, but the Forestmaster managed it admirably. "I know of these creatures, some of them entered Darken Wood with a party of goblins from Haven a few weeks ago."
Well, Dalamar thought grimly, that rules out Haven from our list of possible destinations.
"They wore hoods and cloaks, no doubt to disguise their horrible appearance. The centaurs followed them in secret, to make certain they harmed no one before the spectral minions dealt with them."
The way they almost dealt with me, the Dark elf added silently and repressed a shudder. No wonder the reptile men had been loath to enter Darken Wood.
"The centaurs reported that the creatures call themselves 'draconians' and speak of belonging to an 'Order of the Draco.'"
'Draco'. The words sent a bolt of ice up Dalamar's spine. The ancient word for ‘dragon’. This time he couldn't repress the shudder.
Raistlin laid a hand on the Dark elf's shoulder, looking puzzled; clearly, he hadn't come across that word. "Draco, but who are they? Of what race of species?"
"I do not know. I can tell you only this: they are not of the animal world, and they belong to none of the races of Krynn."
This kept on getting better and better. Caramon however, was clearly still blank. "I don't-"
"It means, dolt, that they are not from this world," the Red Robe snapped.
Startled by his brother's venom -Raistlin always hated being in the dark about things, and after the disaster earlier, he wasn't feeling particularly charitable with his twin-, Caramon shut up, and Dalamar spoke up for the first time, his voice low. "The question is not where these creatures /aren't/ from, but where they actually /are/ from."
There was silence, and the Silvanesti felt the full weight of the Forestmaster's crushing gaze bearing down on his shoulders. "I cannot answer that." Her voice was like frost on a windowpane, icy and brittle. "But I can tell you that before the spectral minions put an end to these draconians, they spoke of 'armies in the north.'"
The picture of a draconian army that had been haunting the Dark elf in the past day came back in full, and this time he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Everyone started speaking at once.
"Armies! Of these Draconians? There must be thousands!" Tanis shouted.
"Impossible!" That was Sturm.
"Precisely what in the past few days has qualified as 'possible'?" Dalamar snarled back.
The conversation, if you could call it that, turned to where to go next, Caramon declaring to go to Haven, Sturm shouting that they should head for Solamnia, and Tanis refusing them both and suggesting they head for Qualinesti.
The Forestmaster interrupted the rapidly growing argument, "The elves have their own problems, as do the Highseekers of Haven. No place is safe. But I will tell you where you must go to find answers to your questions."
This time Raistlin was the first one on the uptake. "What do you mean you will tell us where to go? What do you know of us?"
They both knew the truth even as the words left the wizard's mouth.
"Yes, I was expecting you. A great and shining being appeared to me in the wilderness this day. He told me that the one bearing the Blue Crystal Staff would come this night to Darken Wood."
Dalamar thought of the fallen constellation of the Valiant Warrior they had seen -or rather, not seen- the night before and felt the chill pass through him again.
"The spectral minions would let the staff-bearer and her companions pass," the Forestmaster continued. "Though they have let no human or elf or dwarf or kender to enter Darken Wood since the Cataclysm, I was to give the staff-bearer this message: 'You must fly straight away across the Eastwall Mountains. In two days, the staff-bearer must be within Xak Tsaroth. There, if you prove worthy, you shall receive the greatest gift given to the world.'"
Again, arguments broke out, Flint snorting at the idea that anyone could cross the Eastwall Mountains in two days, Tanis agreeing, while Goldmoon declared that if they were to go near the territories of her people, they would all be killed. For the first time, Dalamar felt a pang of sympathy for the two Plainsmen; he knew what it was like to be exiled.
The Forestmaster declared that this would be no problem. The only question was, would they go?
Sturm spoke softly, "The stag led us here, perhaps to receive this advice. But my heart lies north in my homeland-"
Ignoring the knight, Raistlin turned to the Dark elf. "What about you?"
Dalamar shrugged. "I would like to go, because we have somehow managed to land ourselves in the middle of the biggest predicament since the Cataclysm, and I for one would like to see it through, danger or no. Besides, I doubt we could call ourselves safe no matter where we went."
The human mage nodded. "Yes. We walk into darkness no matter what path we take." A golden hand slipped into Dalamar's and clasped tight. /I will not leave you/. The silent words didn’t need to be spoken.
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In the end, was almost an hour before a decision was reached. Tanis dragged Raistlin off for a word, clearly unhappy about having to consult the Red Robe, but he needed answers and would have eaten his own beard before he asked Dalamar.
Sturm had muttered on about Raistlin's 'black soul' as he put it, and Caramon started shouting at him.
The Dark elf sighed; he was tired. Even the energy the fine meal had given him couldn't compete with the bone-crushing exhaustion fogging his mind. He sat down on the grass and waited for Raistlin to come back, too worn to do anything else.
Finally, the two came back. Tanis looked rattled and Raistlin was smiling coldly. His lover had not given Half-human an easy time. Dalamar smiled.
Tanis turned to the Forestmaster. "Xak Tsaroth, that is my decision."
"Is that what the mage advised," Sturm grumbled.
Tanis nodded, he didn't look much happier. "It is, and I believe his advice is sound. If we do not reach Xak Tsaroth within two days, others will and this 'greatest gift' will be lost forever."
Dalamar nodded, and got up to stand beside Raistlin. The human mage glanced at him and gave a hard smile. Tanis had obviously been as unpleasant as usual. The Dark elf leant down and whispered in Raistlin's ear, close enough to tickle the sensitive skin, "We'll show them. One day, we'll make them all pay."
The Red Robe reached over and twined his fingers through Dalamar's black hair. "Yes, we will. One day, they will call us master." His golden eyes rested on Caramon; the young mage had not forgotten what Dalamar had told him.
The Silvanesti nodded, resting his chin of the young mage's shoulder. "But for the moment, I think we have our own problems." He jerked his head up at the sky. Raistlin followed his gaze; between the boughs of the trees, they could see shapes flitting towards them. Dalamar had already picked out the creatures, they were after all familiar to him. Pegasi were occasional visitors to the elven lands.
The rest of the group gaped in amazement as the flying horses circled above them, dropping lower and lower until their feathery wings almost brushed the ground and the wind of each beat pulled at Dalamar's robes. Finally, each landed, the huge wings folding as they bowed to the Forestmaster.
"You have summoned us?" The pegasus' voice was at once both deep and soft.
"These guests of mine have urgent business to the east. I bid you bear them with the swiftness of the winds across the Eastwall Mountains." The unicorn nodded her head in their direction.
Dalamar would have thought a horse incapable of astonishment, but once again, he was proved wrong. The pegasus walked towards them, looking them each over in turn.
When he came to the Silvanesti, the pegasus' ears flattened and he snorted loudly. The Dark elf took a step back, remembering all too well how the centaurs had treated him. However, the pegasus simply looked at the Forestmaster, who inclined her head again. Clearly disgruntled by the idea of carrying a Dark elf, the winged horse tossed his head and moved on, muttering dire warnings about having to carry humans, dwarves and upon everything a /Dark elf/.
Finally, the pegasus indicated that they were to mount. Goldmoon did first, raising her staff up so that starlight glinted off its many facets and her voice cutting through the night air in a victory hymn.
Dalamar helped Raistlin up before vaulting on himself, ignoring the pegasus' shudder of disgust at the contact, and slid his legs over the wing joints to help his balance. The position made his robes ride up, but there was no help for it; dignity would have to be dispensed with.
There was a moment's pause, then the pegasi crouched and leaped up. The wings on either side of the two mages swung open and started to beat. The winged steeds took to the air, rising through the treetops before swinging out towards the east.
Dalamar looked up, the height making his head spin, and smiled suddenly. They had left Darken Wood and its magics behind, and it was a great relief to be able to look up and see the now-familiar black moon shining above him. The Dark elf shut his eyes, then opened them, looking down to see Darken Wood swiftly shrinking and vanishing into the distance.
"Never again," Dalamar vowed. Raistlin didn't answer, he had fallen asleep.
Glancing around, the Dark elf saw that he was the only one still awake. Even the kender was snoring. Shaking his head, the elven mage laughed softly. "Sleep spell."
But of course, such spells didn't affect elves, even Dark elves. Still, he /was/ tired, and it didn't seem such a bad idea. Who knew when they would next have the chance to rest?
Looking up one last time at Nuitari, reassuring himself that they were /out/ of the Wood and would hopefully never return, Dalamar rested his head on Raistlin's back, and tried to sleep.
But even in the midst of his exhaustion, the blank, hollow holes in the constellations above them still haunted his rest.

Skull Bearer.
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- 7
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