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Alvorecer	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1612 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Alvorecer
Chapter eight: For the Taking

You were from a perfect world
A world that threw me away today
-Coma White, Marilyn Manson
/Perhaps Fistandantilus had been too distracted by Tanis' sudden appearance to notice the walls locking Raistlin in were weaker, or perhaps he just didn't care. Either way, when the trumpets sounded and warned the lich that his spelltrap had been triggered, Raistlin felt it too. He felt Fistandantilus' irritation at having to miss whatever was happening, then add odd sort of anticipation. The lich suspected something.
This time Raistlin recognised the spell the lich cast. Teleportation. The same spell that had taken them from welcome death into the presence of the Dark Queen. And like the last time Fistandantilus had cast it, the spell weakened the walls holding Raistlin yet further. Strong enough to hold him, but not enough to stop him from seeing outside.
There wasn't much to see, the spell cast, the place they were taken to was so dark Raistlin doubted even Dalamar could have seen through it. But then, if Dalamar had been with him they wouldn't be here. Raistlin forced the thought away. He couldn't think of that, he couldn't acknowledge the grief clawing at him because if he did he'd fall back into the trap of despair, this time never to escape.
His weak control wavered, and the sounds around them became blurred, footsteps, someone sloshing through water, then finally, his own voice, given a hideously alien cast by Fistandantilus, /"Shirak."/
And then Raistlin was staring through the frosted glass of his own vision at his twin brother.
His shock was such that Fistandantilus noticed him, but weakened by his spell, he couldn't force him back. Raistlin felt him sneer, then, confident that his control was enough to stop Raistlin for fighting his control, turned his attention to Caramon.
Raistlin's vision fogged, and he fought back, struggling to be able to see.
-Caramon!- His mental voice was a mere thread, unable to reach his throat.
It was the most helplessly ironic nightmare. To be trapped, like this, and relying on /Caramon/ to realise something was wrong. His brother had always claimed they shared a connection, and for once Raistlin prayed it was true.
-Caramon! Help me! See through this, see this isn't me! Please-
Caramon's expression hadn't changed, a look of utter shock on his face, his lips moving soundlessly. /Raistlin/.
-No!- Raistlin shrieked at him -Not me. This isn't me!- He couldn't imagine what he expected Caramon to do, but if he could just look at him and realise the truth...
"Yes, my brother," Fistandantilus' voice was his, a gentle, caring tone that would have reminded Raistlin of how he had spoken to Dalamar countless
times, if it hadn't been for the undercurrent of ice the lich could never completely mask. "It is I- The last guardian, the one you must pass to reach your goal, the one Her Dark Majesty commanded be present it the trumpets should sound." Raistlin felt his lips twisted into a gentle smile, his voice lowering into fondness. "I should have known it would be you who tripped my spelltrap..."
Fistandantilus was smiling, seeing Caramon's lips move wordlessly, choking out "Raist..."
-No!-
The man beside Caramon- Berem, Raistlin recognised him suddenly- plucked at the big man's sleeve. "Jasla calls. We must go."
Caramon gave a choked sob and wrenched his arm from the man's grasp. Berem glared at him, then started forwards on his own.
"No, my friend," Fistandantilus' voice held more than a trace of it's usual ice now, "No one's going anywhere."
Berem stopped in mid-stride, as though he'd run into a wall. He kept his eyes fixed on something behind them, tears of desperation in in his eyes.
Raistlin knew exactly how he felt.
Caramon raised his eyes again, then dropped them when he met Fistandantilus' dead eyes. "You wear the Black Robes now?" He whispered, "I can't see... in this light..."
"Yes, /my brother/," Fistandantilus savoured those words, raising his staff to allow Caramon to see him clearly.
Caramon shuddered, "And your voice, it's stronger, different. Like you... and yet not like you... And your eyes..."
-Yes!- Raistlin thought desperately, -Yes, even you can see it! This isn't me!- He felt Fistandantilus' worry for a moment before the lich crushed it mercilessly.
"It's a long story, Caramon," He whispered soothingly, "In time, you may come to hear it. But now you are in a very bad situation, my brother. The draconian guards are coming. Their orders are to Capture the Everman and take him before the Dark Queen. That will be the end of him. He is /not/ immortal, I assure you. She has spells that will unravel his existence, leaving him little more than thin threads of flesh and soul, wafting away on the winds of the storm. Then She will devour his sister and- at last- the Dark Queen will be free to enter Krynn in her full power and majesty. She will rule the world and all the planes of heaven and the Abyss. Nothing will stop her."
And he couldn't allow that, Raistlin knew, he would let Berem do whatever he needed to thwart the Dark Queen's plans, but not before making sure they all knew this only happened because of him. He wanted Caramon bound to him through debt and blood. Raistlin stared at his brother, silently begging him to see the truth.
-Be silent-
Fistandantilus' attack caught him off guard and almost succeeded in forcing him away. This time, Raistlin fought back stubbornly, he had to see this, he had to fight, if Caramon was the only chance he had left then by the Gods he wouldn't give up.
"I don't understand-" Caramon said helplessly.
"No, of course not, dear brother." Fistandantilus' anger with Raistlin bled off into his voice, "You stand next to the Everman, the one being in all of Krynn who can end this war and drive the Dark Queen back to her shadowy realm. And you do not understand."
Raistlin saw his own hand extend towards his brother, and beckon. Caramon stepped forwards, oblivious to Raistlin's mental screams.
"The Everman has only to take a few more steps, my brother, and he will be reunited with the sister who has endured unspeakable agonies during these long years of waiting for his return to free her from her self-imposed torment."
"And what will happen then?" Caramon tried, once again to look
Fistandantilus in the face, but the moment his eyes met those dead orbs, he dropped his gaze again, unable to face the truth of what was happening.
Fistandantilus smiled, "The wedge will be removed, my dear brother, and the door will slam shut. The Dark Queen will be left howling in rage in the depths of the Abyss. And this.. this Temple of Istar reborn, perverted by evil... will fall."
Caramon looked at him, confused, and Raistlin felt a small spark of hope at the suspicion in his brother's eyes.
Fistandantilus ignored it. "No, I am not lying. Not that I can't lie when it suits my purpose. But you will find, dear brother, that we are still /close/ enough so that I cannot lie to you. And, in any case, I have no need to lie. Better that you know the truth."
Raistlin saw the suspicion fade from his brother's eyes, replaced by the first stirring of a blind trust Raistlin knew far, far too well. He screamed again, feeling his last chance starting to slip away.
-You should have made the best of him while you had the chance- Fistandantilus laughed at him -Such a useful tool should never be cast aside-
The lich could have thrown him back now, Raistlin knew, but he wanted Raistlin to see this, he wanted him to know that his last possible ally was lost to him, that there was no one else, he was alone and trapped for good. Raistlin felt the tenuous grip he held on despair start to slip.
"You know what I must do, Raist." Caramon said softly, his eyes begging Fistandantilus to forgive him. "You might be powerful, but you still need to concentrate to work your magic. And if you work it against /me/, Berem will be free of your power. You can't kill him, only your Dark Queen can do that, I suppose, so that leaves-" Caramon swallowed.
"You, my dear brother." Fistandantilus shook his head, smiling gently. "My poor dear brother, how could I ever kill you?"
With a howl, a blur of scales and blades burst into the chamber, the draconian guards Fistandantilus had prophesised. The lich raised his hands- Raistlin's hands- and cast, tearing the unnatural creatures to pieces with Raistlin's stolen magic.
"I am powerful, Caramon." Fistandantilus said, still in that same gentle voice. "I am the most powerful force of magic in Krynn, but perhaps I am not so powerful as to forget the debts and bonds between us, my brother."
Raistlin stared at Caramon, watching the disbelief in his eyes turning to hope, and realised his last chance was gone. He shrieked wordlessly at his brother's open, happy face, screaming warnings that his brother couldn't hear and would never hear.
It was all a lie, all those tales he had heard from everyone about his bond with Caramon. All lies. There was no bond, just the cheerful blindness of one too stupid to realise what was going on.
"Remember, my brother," Fistandantilus smiled, negating the spell on Berem. "This happens because I choose it to happen."
With an incoherent cry, the Everman rushed past them. Fistandantilus didn't turn, his dead eyes on Caramon's face. The big man didn't move, staring at the floor, at his hands, at Berem, anywhere but Fistandantilus' face.
A terrible scream made them turn, and Raistlin saw, through the thickening fog of Fistandantilus' control, that Berem had hurled himself onto a jewelled pillar with such force that he'd impaled himself on it.
Caramon jumped forwards, shouting something incoherent, then the ceiling shuddered, small stones starting to rain down from above. From the corridor from which Caramon had come, more shouts rang out.
"Raist..." Caramon's face had lost all expression, staring at the impaled body of the dead man. "Please," He looked around, the sounds of more draconians filtering through to Raistlin. "Don't leave me to die at their hands. If that means you have to k-kill me now, please do it. You owe me as much."
"Caramon." Fistandantilus shook his head, "I owe you more than you could ever know."
Those words worked more magic that any enchantment could, Raistlin saw Caramon's eyes light up, tears threatening to gather at 'his brother's' tender words, more gentle and caring that any Raistlin had ever spoken to him.
"Can you walk?" The lich offered Caramon his arm.
"I-I think so," Caramon glanced at Raistlin's belt, at the pouch where the Dragon Orb was held, "Can't- can't you that- that /thing/ to get us out of here?" By his voice, even he hadn't forgotten what had happened the last time it had been used.
Raistlin could feel Fistandantilus' amusement as he plotted out how best to explain abandoning them in the Blood sea. Something heartfelt and sincere, placing the blame firmly on Dalamar's shoulders, would work best. Raistlin felt Fistandantilus' attention turn to him, mocking, laughing, enjoying his reaction. Caramon had believed the Dark elf had held Raistlin under an enchantment, and Fistandantilus saw no reason to disabuse him of that notion.
And he would believe it, Raistlin was sure. He felt a flare of pure loathing towards his brother. Disgusted to have known him, to have ever thought of him as a brother. Revolting, filthy mindless drone who'd follow anything, believe anything as long as /he/ was okay. He hated him more that he'd ever thought possible.
"I could, but you wouldn't particularly enjoy the journey, my brother. Besides, have you forgotten those who came with you?"
And how better to cement the oaf's allegiance than to rescue the fools he held so dear? Raistlin felt Fistandantilus smile in pleasure as everything fell so neatly into place.
"Tika! Tas!" Caramon gasped, jumping straight into the trap. "And Tanis! What about-"
"Tanis is on his own," Fistandantilus said firmly. "I have aided him and if he is wise, he will escape unharmed. But perhaps I can aid others as they have aided me in the past."
And may 'aid' me again in the future.
Again, the sounds came from the end of the passage, the servants of the Dark Queen obeying their mistress' final commands. They rushed out into the room, but Fistandantilus was ready. The walls holding Raistlin weakened further as the lich turned his full attention to spellcasting. Goblins were banished to dust, Draconians crumbled where they stood, Dark Cleric found their prayers unanswered and died screaming. Only the Black Robes realised something of what- if not who- they were facing, and fled on the wings of magic before they too could be struck down. Then silence fell, and the walls thickened until the world faded in a blur of white.
He couldn't see, but Raistlin knew what was happening, he could see it in Fistandantilus' mind, if not though his eyes. He felt the lich laugh as he helped the wounded Caramon, as he had helped him in the dream. But now was not the time to drain the strength from the man and take it as his own, that could wait until Caramon had preformed a few more services for him. What services, Raistlin didn't know and hardly dared to imagine.
He felt the undead creature's amusement at the draconians scurrying past them as they made their way to the ground level of the Temple, guided by the lich's memory of the Temple of Istar, hundreds of years before.
And he felt the creature's irritation when they came across the bodies of Tika and Tasslehoff and Caramon broke down. He felt it deepen when Caramon begged him to heal the kender, a task that would sap yet more of his energy and leave him vulnerable, but which the lich couldn't refuse or risk losing Caramon.
The magic drain was deep, but it was Raistlin's strength, not him. The world came quite abruptly into focus as Fistandantilus focused his attention on the spell. But not enough to give way, never enough for that.
Then there was silence, a stillness broken only by the occasional tremors up above. Raistlin looked into his brother's eyes, using his final gasp of control to let him know, make him /see/... But Caramon turned away, looking down, not wanting to see, not wanting to think. He wanted this to be Raistlin, so badly he ignored the truth that was staring him in the face. The walls thickened again, and the world began to blur.
"You see, Caramon?" Fistandantilus said simply.
And wordlessly, soundlessly, Caramon nodded.
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Dalamar had no idea what was going on. He had waited in Neraka long enough to make sure he had no chance of running into the draconians, and to screw up his courage to step into the Temple. He'd kept his hood down and his eyes on the road, keeping as much to the shadows as he could. But the line of shacks didn't reach into the shadow of the place itself, and Dalamar had been forced to pause and consider how he could bluff his way in. A spell of invisibility wouldn't work, not against dragons, and he wasn't sure if the draconians would accept his explanation that Raistlin Majere had sent for him.
Then, before he'd had time to make his mind up one way or another, the decision was taken out of his hands. The Dragonarmy horns sounded,
brassy and deafening, echoing out from within the massive complex. Dalamar had jumped, and made the mistake of looking up at the Temple.
He'd felt... utterly insignificant, like an ant beside the foot of a dragon. The Temple reared into the clouds as though it was about to fall and crush him. Closer to, it was far more terrible and glorious than when he had first seen it, and Nuitari help him, he couldn't look away.
He didn't know how long he'd stood there, half in and half out of the shadows, paralyzed by a terror far more potent even that dragonfear. He did know that if the draconians had been any less distracted, then would have seen him and no amount of explaining could have saved him. But whatever was happening inside commanded all of their attention, and they had none to pay to the Dark standing frozen in the shadow of their Temple.
Then, suddenly, the building had shuddered. Shuddered like a hawk shaking frost from its wings.
Then, like a hawk, it had started to fall.
The pinnacle had been first, it had broken with the sound of a thousand lightning bolts striking ground and toppled to the earth, landing with a crash that shook the earth like an earthquake. The pillars had followed, the upper stories starting to sag and collapse.
The hypnotising spell had faded, the sense of terrible awe crumbling with the Temple, becoming nothing more than a falling collection of stone and mortar, and Dalamar was able to look away at last.
Draconians had started to pour out of the doors, shrieking and howling, some clutching treasures and gold as they went. Then the human soldiers, then Dalamar hadn't been able see any more because the living wave had reached him and it was all he could do to stand his ground and not get overrun or thrown to the ground as it broke over him.
He didn't know why he hadn't run, pieces of architecture were falling all around him, and crushing anything in the way. He remembered seeing a draconian, slowed by the bag of jewels it was trying to carry, crushed by a no-longer-flying buttress. All Dalamar had known, known it some obscure, crazy way that had nothing to do with common sense or magic, was that Raistlin was still in there.
And of course, Dalamar had done the only thing he could do, and ran inside the crumbling Temple.
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Dalamar had no idea where he was going, but so far there hadn't been much of a choice, the main hall wasn't an option, the roof had already collapsed and anyone who hadn't made it out was already dead, upstairs was also out, he didn't think Raistlin would be up there either. Which left him with only one corridor to follow. Mercifully, it was also the emptiest.
He was running. Dalamar wasn't sure when he'd switched to that from the fast walk he'd first used, but he was running now. Running flat out down the corridor, his boots ringing out with every step. The ceiling was still rumbling ominously but so far this part of the Temple seemed stable. Shouts echoed all around him, draconian snarls, dragon roars, screams and shouts from humans and goblins-
And suddenly, most piercingly, a kender's voice, high and familiar. Dalamar froze, turned, and ran as fast as he could down the corridor from which the shout had sounded. His heart was hammering so loudly he could barely hear anything else, his whole attention fixed on getting to the source of that voice.
It was down one of the outer corridors, one that must lead outside. The kender's voice was drowned out by draconian voices, then rang out again, more clearly, far closer. "But my things!"
Dalamar skidded around a corner, and his heart stopped at the sight of the little crowd around the doors. Stopped, or started again for the first time since the Blood sea. Because there was Raistlin, Raistlin as he had been in the nightmare, shrouded in black, standing straight and still, with his back to Dalamar. Light from the open doorway haloing him like that from the Dragon Orb.
Dalamar couldn't have stopped if the whole Temple had fallen in on top of him, and his voice held all the pain, fear and despair of the last few days.
/"Raistlin!"/

Skull Bearer.
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- 9
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Alvorecer