Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Ice and Steel	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 3083 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Exposition and Execution
I know it's the last day on Earth,
We'll be together as the planet dies.
-Marilyn Manson, Last Day on Earth.

By the time they arrived at the fairground, it was dark and the temple ceremony would be beginning soon.
Dalamar was staying behind, but as the elf was wearing his clothes, Raistlin had to borrow some from Tanis. They were to big, but they would work; nobody would recognise him.
Sturm had gone ahead and Kitiara had sent Tanis off to find Tasslehoff (who apparently ending up in jail already) so it was just Caramon, Kit and himself who ended up making their way to the ugly building which served the Belzorites as a temple.
Raistlin's doubts in the truth of the religion was almost immediately confirmed as they reached the entrance to the temple, large braziers had been set outside and the scent of the smoke had the young mage covering his mouth with his sleeve.
"Cover your nose and mouth! Quickly!" He hissed. "Don't breath the smoke."
The warning came too late for Caramon, who'd taken a breath full of it. The large man staggered as if drunk, nearly knocking Kitiara over. She grabbed her brother and hauled him into the temple, Raistlin following.
"They were burning poppy seeds." Raistlin explained, "It causes a feeling of euphoria. Odd that the priests would want their congregation in such a state of befuddlement."
The ceremony, when it began, did little to change his suspicions. High Priestess Judith had appeared, looking much as Raistlin remembered her, and 'summoned' Belzor. A trick, Raistlin was sure, done by magic rather than clerical power.
Members of the congregation were then called up, those who had asked to speak to dead friends or family. As each of them had been interrogated beforehand and the 'dead' spoke through the high priestess, not to mention that every one of the dead asked their relations to give money to the temple, Raistlin was convinced the whole thing was a sham.
It was the last person to be called up, though, who convinced Raistlin he had to act, a young mother who had lost her child. A child, Judith told her, damned to hell for her elven blood.
He looked back at Judith who'd just demanded that, in return for drawing the child's soul out of hell, the woman give all her lands and possessions to the temple.
When the woman tried to protest, the crowd hissed, and whispered insults at the her.
Raistlin felt a sting of pain as his nails bit into his palms. Anger burnt inside his soul, anger at the strong for taking such advantage of the weak. Gods knew he understood what that felt like.
The ceremony was over and the group was returning to the fairground. Dalamar had been waiting for them a little way from the temple, Raistlin was explaining the events to the Dark elf when they crossed the young woman who had lost her child. She looked utterly devastated. The crowd had cursed and derided her since the ceremony had broken up.
Raistlin made his mind up at that moment and stepped over to her, Dalamar a step behind.
"Leave me alone!" She pleaded. "I beg of you. I have suffered enough."
"I am not one of your tormentors, madam." Raistlin said quietly. "Belzor is a fraud, a sham. Your child is at peace. She sleeps soundly, as though you had rocked her to sleep yourself."
" I did rock her." The woman's eyes had filled with tears. "I held her, and at the end she was at peace, as you have said. 'I feel better now, Mama,' she told me, and she closed her eyes. I want to believe you! But how can I? What proof can you give me?"
"Come back to the temple tomorrow night."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
When they arrived at the fairground Dalamar grabbed Raistlin's sleeve and dragged him behind a tree away from the stalls. "What was that about?" He hissed, furious, "You are going to risk your life in that madhouse for that woman. Risk Your Life. Whatever you're planning Raistlin, you'd better drop it pretty quicky."
"You don't even know what I'm planning." Raistlin snarled back, angered by Dalamar's derision.
"Does it even matter? These priests aren't ones to suffer being shown up, you heard what they threatened to do to Lemuel, just for being in the same town as them! Play them up and I don't want to think what they'd do."
Raistlin sighed, bit back a sarcastic retort and explained his plan to Dalamar.
When he'd finished, Dalamar was staring at him as if he'd gone mad.
"You've gone crazy, Raistlin. There are a thousand things that can go wrong with that plan, you've never cast that spell before, you're relying on a kender and most of all even if it does work you've revealed yourself as a mage and we will both be targets."
"Is that all you care about?" Raistlin spat, "Is that why you're trying to dissuade me? Because you're too afraid of being seen as what you are?"
"No." Dalamar's voice was rigid. "Because I'm scared of losing the only person who's ever meant anything to me."
Raistlin couldn't answer that, and sighed, anger draining out at those words. "Dalamar, it's not that much of a risk, the worse that can happen is that I'd humiliated." Which would be bad enough.
The Dark elf ran a hand over his face with a sigh, "It is a risk, a risk that isn't worth taking for the comfort of one woman."
"It's not just the woman. What if I succeed? Judith is most certainly a renegade mage, and we-WE- have made pacts with the Gods of Magic to work for the magic, and this is an excellent time to do so."
Dalamar didn't answer and Raistlin knew he'd won the argument.
----------------------------Next day----------------------------------
The temple of Belzor was full, even more full than the previous night. The promise of such a crowd was daunting, but after his argument with Dalamar, Raistlin could hardly change his mind.
It took a while to get everyone into position, Sturm standing by the back wall, holding Tasslehoff, his brother and friends beside him to avoid others interrupting him while casting. Dalamar stood by the right hand wall; he'd insisted on coming, wanting to be there to get Raistlin out if- or when- anything went wrong.
The spell he was going to cast was far beyond his skill as a mage, but even the least novice could cast from a scroll.
He just hoped to the Gods everything would work.
Raistlin shivered; he felt very cold, sick to the stomach with stage fright.
He had waited until Judith was preparing to cast her spell to 'summon' Belzor' then unrolled his scroll, the flaming letters on the parchment gave him strength and he stood and began his speech, the acoustics of the room amplifying his words.
He denounced Judith and Belzor, resolve only faltering when the priestess recognized him. Pulling himself together he continued.
Raistlin had had no need for the scroll, the words of the spell had burnt themselves into his mind.
He could have cast the spell on himself, it would have proved his point perfectly.
He could have cast it on Caramon, imposing as his twin was, it would have worked well.
He could have cast it on Dalamar, the Dark elf was frightening enough.
But Raistlin had needed to do more than to prove his point than evoke fear from his onlookers, he needed to disprove Belzor utterly, and only one emotion could do this.
Ridicule.
He cast the spell on Tasslehoff.
Suddenly, there was a giant kender walking down the isle of the temple.
Silence. Then someone had laughed, this was picked up by more and more of the congregation until the whole lot of them were laughing and mocking, shoving to get a better look. This then turned into a riot as more and more people joined the fray
The town guard ran in, and all hell broke loose.
Raistlin had shoved himself clear of the bedlam and run after Judith, who'd disappeared. Caramon had been caught up in the fight, Dalamar was lost on the other side of the rabble, and Kitiara had vanished, so he was on his own
Things went downhill rapidly from there. Raistlin had followed the priestess down a passageway behind a statue of Belzor and into a rich set of rooms clearly used as living quarters for the priests. They were empty save a young cleric.
A loud scream had cut through any demands he could have made and he ran towards the source of the noise.
The room had clearly used as a restroom after the priestess' performances, with wine and food on a fine wooden table.
Judith had been lying on the floor, her throat had been slashed with such ferocity that her head was nearly severed from her body.
And beside her lay a very familiar knife.
His sister's.
He'd just picked it up and prepared to run when the guards came in.
There had been no chance to defend himself, he'd been caught at the scene of the murder with the knife still clutched in his hand. He'd been dragged to the prison to await trial and (probable) hanging.
To Raistlin, everything was unreal. The exhaustion of casting the spell combined with shock had done in his system, he passed out on the cold floor of the cell.
He was woken, seemingly moments later, by a loud commotion in the prison. Crashing of boots on the cobbles, voices raised and angry, the clash and rattle of cell bars, then hands roughly grabbing him, dragging him upright.
The world spun; the red-gold of torches, blue of robes, white and orange of flame edged faces blurred into a whirlpool of colour. Fingers clutching his arms and shoulders hard enough to hurt. Then he was pulled out of the jail and into the street, shrieks and yells melting into a horrid, unholy medley of abyssal triumph.
Raistlin couldn't think, couldn't fight, couldn't even stand as his hands were bound behind his back. Someone behind him was shouting above the din...Something about an execution, they were going to kill someone...him.
The young mage started dragging at his bonds in a futile attempt to free himself. Someone swung at him and Raistlin staggered, stars dancing in front of his eyes and darkness beckoning again.
His captors started a slow chant to Belzor as they moved towards their squatting temple, joined by hangers on who had come to see what all the fuss was about. Mocking yells and black chants melted into each other until the sounds echoing in Raistlin’s head seemed born of the very hell they wished to send him to.
Where was Dalamar? Was he simply going to leave him to his death? Has he decided that a rescue was hopeless and decided to save his own skin? That he was, as Raistlin had accused him, too afraid to be seen for what he was to attempt to save his lover?
In his groggy, barely-conscious state it made more sense than ever.
They had arrived at the temple, it's ugly square walls all the more hideous in the flickering torches.
They had arrived at the pyre.

Never underestimate the stupidity of people in big groups...
Please review.
Skull Bearer.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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

Ice and Steel