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Nocturnale	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1934 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Again, apologies for the long wait. I didn't have a coherent idea of how to write the next few chapters and it took a while to sort out, plus, it's not been a good time recently.
Anyway, things are looking better and I've worked out what's going to happen, so the next chapter shouldn't take so long. Enjoy the fic!

Nocturnale
Chapter Nine- To Deliver
In transit you pass among the strangers of the world
Paying tribute to the thief who stole away your shadow
You look into the bedrock and listen to the bells
Calling liquid lust, call for solid white.
Stalker Song, Kovenant

It had been like breaking through a fog, that first time in the slave caravans. A sudden return to consciousness as the world snapped into focus. It had been slower this time, a fight for every step, slowly unravelling Fistandantilus' influence, all the time driving the creature back, throwing up walls to force him back into the shadows he came from.
And it was over.
It had been so hard, hard enough that Raistlin wondered what power Fizban could have had to make the lich withdraw so fast. It had taken long, torturous days to start re-asserting control, and even longer before he had recovered from his cough enough to walk.
Like in the slave caravans, Raistlin had few memories of the past four days, for which he was thankful. By the grim look he had seen on Dalamar's face when he had awoken, he hadn't missed much.
What memories he had were of the struggle that had taken place within his own mind. He had broken Fistandantilus' control in Silvanesti, but the lich had refused to back down without a fight, dragging more and more energy from him. Not enough to kill- clearly the lich didn't want that yet- but enough to trigger a coughing fit every bit as powerful as the one he had suffered in the slave caravans, and this time, his tea didn't help.
Fistandantilus had proven quite capable of overcoming the relief the mixture granted him.
The lich hadn't bothered to hide the reason for his sudden attack, it had been obvious. Even when the first spasms racked him, Raistlin could feel the first probing tendrils of the creature's power, trying to break through his mental defences and seize control again.
But the physical pain had only strengthened them, making the human mage even more stubborn to hold them under the shattering assault of Fistandantilus' rage, refusing to let his distress distract him.
It was more than his cough, the sudden attack on his system had left him sick and dizzy, and the ongoing mental battle only made things worse. By the time they both retreated- Raistlin to collapse into exhausted sleep, Fistandantilus to regain spent energy- the young mage could feel the first tell-tale signs of fever.
He had snatched a bare few hours of sleep, only to be awoken when Fistandantilus launched a new attack.
It had been like his struggle to regain control, only this time the roles were reversed and he was defending. Yet perhaps because this was his body or because he was the stronger, Raistlin found himself with the upper hand in the mental conflict. No matter how bad his fever was or how terrible his cough, he didn't let it break his concentration. The harder the lich attacked, the more stubbornly Raistlin fought back.
The days passed in a haze, the bone-aching pain the only constant in the battle of wills. Lucid moments were rare, and Raistlin could recall few of them. He did, however, remember that despite everything that happened recently, both in the Nightmare and after it, it had been Dalamar who had carried him out of the tortured land when he had been too weak to walk. More than anything, it made him ever more determined to win against the lich.
One by one, Fistandantilus' assaults were spent on the implacable wall of Raistlin's will, and the lich's careful probes found no weak spots in his mind.
Finally, after an uncountable time, the attacks slowly ceased, Fistandantilus clearly realising that no matter what he did, he was not strong enough to win this fight.
But that wasn't enough. The memories of the Nightmare were more than enough to convince Raistlin that simply having control was no victory at all. He had fought Fistandantilus off twice already, but the lich would be constantly waiting for another chance. Raistlin might not be able to rid himself of the creature's foul presence, but he could throw him back into the shadows, and build up enough mental barriers to hold him there. And hopefully, one day, he would be able to dispose of the lich forever.
Slowly, he had driven Fistandantilus back, forcing him to retreat. It had been difficult, but he had known it must work. For Dalamar and himself, it had to.
And it had. He had self and will enough to first force the lich back, then start to built up barriers against the creature's influence.
That it had worked at all had been surprising, Raistlin knew he was skilled and strong minded, but to have prevailed over Fistandantilus, unarguable the most powerful mage to have ever lived... it had been then that he had started to suspect that the lich was not as powerful as Raistlin had first feared. He doubted he could have repulsed the creature had Fistandantilus possessed the power and knowledge of his living self.
Not that the lich was weak, nor was he completely trapped yet, but Raistlin was starting to regain confidence in his own control. It had been enough to repulse Fistandantilus twice already, and it would be enough to trap him and keep him from attempting to possess him again.
At the thought, Raistlin's lip curled, Fistandantilus, the crippled ghost of one long-dead, trapped in the mind of one he tried to ensnare. A sorry end for the most powerful mage that ever lived. But a fitting and- if Raistlin was successful- permanent one.
The defences he had created to hold Fistandantilus back were still weak, and while he had regained the strength to walk, most of his focus still had to be directed inwards, and speaking was a feat still mostly beyond him, however much he longed to do so.
----
Despite his distance with the world, he would have had to be blind not to notice the way he was regarded by the other companions, Dalamar in particular.
Raistlin knew that even though the Dark elf had carried him, the frail trust between them had not been rebuilt, quite the opposite in fact. He knew Dalamar well enough to know when the Dark elf was refusing to face something. He had obviously not let himself think of what happened during and after the Nightmare until they were out of Silvanesti, but sooner or later he would demand answers.
It had been because of this that Raistlin had spoken first. That, and the hope that if he broached the silence first, Dalamar would be more likely to believe him. He felt a coil of guilt at how he had treated the Dark elf when he had asked, so many times before. Yes, he had wanted to spare his lover the knowledge, but how much of it had been that, and how much Fistandantilus' own influence and his own petty jealousy?
No, he had to talk to Dalamar, and as soon as he had been able to speak, he had done so. It had taken longer than he would have liked, they were days out of Silvanesti until he could force enough control to speak more than a few words.
It had been so terribly hard, to want to tell everything and yet know he was unable to, and when Dalamar had looked at him, all but pleading for the truth, he had tried even that. It had been too much, seeing the desperation in the elf's grey eyes, Dalamar wanted to believe him, wanted it so badly that it had overcome the elf's usual doubt and suspicion, and the sight of it had torn holes in Raistlin's heart.
So he had tried, speaking as fast as he could, yet he had only been able to choke a few words out before his throat had closed. Fistandantilus had still enough power to control what he said, the knowledge sending cold, impotent fury through him.
It didn't matter though, Dalamar had believed him. He was still unsure and suspicious, but the Dark elf knew him well enough to understand that he wasn't acting, and that he had honestly tried to tell him the truth.
The look on his lover's face was one that Raistlin was not about to forget, but nor did he want to. Through all the suspicion and doubt of the last few months, there had been tentative trust in the Dark elf's eyes. Trust, and fear, because Dalamar had to know that if Raistlin wasn't in control of his actions, who was? And by what the human mage had been able to force out before Fistandantilus stopped him, the Dark elf knew it was some/one/ rather than some/thing/.
What Dalamar knew was clearly of no comfort to him. And the look on his face when he had taken Raistlin's hand had been more than enough to convince the human mage- as though he needed more convincing- that he had to keep fighting. Hopefully soon he would be strong enough to block Fistandantilus, not even completely, just enough to give himself time to deliver to Dalamar the full story, as promised.
The Dark elf deserved to be repaid for the trust he had shown him, especially since Raistlin knew how hard he'd had to fight back his instincts to do so. He hadn't expected it himself, and had been stunned when Dalamar's hand had closed over his. At most he'd hoped for acceptance, however suspicious and unconvinced. This clear declaration of trust had been almost too much to be believed.
They sat in silence for a long time, their hands still joined, lost in their own thoughts. And it was only now that Raistlin stirred. The night was getting cold and he wasn't as recovered as he would have liked. Besides, they had a long road still ahead of them and had suffered through the even longer one behind them. Sleep would be dearly welcomed.
Dalamar looked up as he stood, the elf's grey eyes dark in the faint light of Solinari. Raistlin inclined his head invitingly towards the camp, and the Dark elf got to his feet and followed.
The others were already asleep by the time they got back, save for Tika who was on watch. Raistlin undid their bedroll and stretched it out, then stared as Dalamar shook his head and took one of the blankets, walking over to lie down a little way off.
"Dalamar?"
The Dark elf shook his head, and Raistlin felt a deep stab of pain. He trusted him alright, trusted him well enough to feel that sleeping together simply wasn't safe any more.
And, with a second, worse stab, Raistlin realised that he might well be right. Should Fistandantilus find some way of breaking free of the barriers the young mage had caged him with, and succeed in gaining control, he might well decide that harming- or even killing!- Dalamar would be an adequate punishment for Raistlin's disobedience. His skin crawled at the thought, and he thought he felt the lich laugh.
No, Dalamar was quite right not to feel safe, Raistlin didn't either.
But the realisation was poor compensation for the loss as he climbed under the blankets alone. He and Dalamar had slept together for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to sleep alone. Colder, for one thing-
Raistlin sat up, picked his cloak off the ground and leaned out to drape it over the Dark elf. With only one blanket and his own cloak, the Dark elf must be freezing.
Dalamar looked around and gave him a small, tired smile, but Raistlin felt in no state to return it. He gave a short nod, and curled up in his bedroll, hoping sleep would come soon.
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It did, Raistlin had been so tired that he had fallen asleep almost the moment his eyes closed. If he had any dreams, they had all flown and been forgotten come morning, because the next thing Raistlin realised, it was dawn.
By day, the land around them didn't look any better, despite being only on the edge of the desert of Khur, it was parched and dry, with only a few trees and dying grasses breaking the monotony of dust.
Raistlin didn't speak as he helped Dalamar pack up, the Dark elf looked tired and clearly hadn't slept well, although whether that had been due to the revelations of the previous evening, or because of the cold and hard ground, Raistlin didn't know. He gave his lover a small smile and the Dark elf smiled back weakly.
There was little talk as they set off again, heading east towards the coast in the hopes of finding a port, and there, a boat to take them across the sea to Balifor.
Mercifully they had gone no more than a few leagues across the blasted landscape before they saw the first glimmers of the sea. Somewhat heartened, they reached the shore by mid afternoon. Although there was no sign of any settlement nearby, they did find an old beaten track running north.
The land was slightly more fertile so close to the sea, though many of the trees and plants were salt-choked and half buried in sand flying from the north. The town they came to was little better.
Raistlin guessed it was one of the few ports dotting the shore of the Khur desert. It was small enough that the Dragonarmies had clearly passed it over in favour of better targets, so small, in fact, that the human mage suspected it didn't even feature on the Highlord's maps.
Small as it was, the port did have a fishing fleet, and a few boats adapted to sailing across the Bay of Balifor. Despite this, it took Dalamar's sapphire, plus most of their remaining funds, to convince one of the owners to take them across to Balifor.
The dull hours spent first waiting overnight for the sloop to be prepared, and then actually traversing in it were a welcome respite from the fear and horror of the last two weeks. Raistlin stayed near the stern, sitting against the wall, wrapped in his cloak and occasionally shivering from the cold southern winds that blew across the bay. Dalamar sat next to him, a look of concern in his eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
Raistlin nodded reassurance, drawing his hood over his head. It had seemed so long ago that such questions from the Dark elf irritated him, and now he treasured the reminder that Dalamar still cared about him.
As if to help dispel any doubts, the Dark elf slid an arm around Raistlin's shoulders, the human mage sighed and leaned into the welcome contact. He smiled at Dalamar, and the Dark elf nodded, then sighed. "I-"
Raistlin shook his head before Dalamar could continue. They had said everything that could be said yesterday, and going over it again would not make any better.
This time it was the elf that smiled. "I was going to ask if you had any ideas for how we could get any money. This crossing's cost us just about all we had."
Raistlin laughed, then coughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. No, I don't have any ideas, you're usually the one who thinks of those things."
Dalamar nodded, "For once, I don't really know. Were we on our own, we might be able to make do, but you're right," He continued, seeing Raistlin about to speak, "It would be suicide to split up at this point. If this last port wasn't overrun by the Dragonarmies, Balifor will most certainly be. We have better chance together than apart, despite the problem of finances."
In spite of the situation, Raistlin couldn't hold back his smile, for Dalamar, who was so independent, to admit that they might actually need help was sure sign that they were in a bad position.
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The sloop reached Balifor late that afternoon, the sun was setting and the temperature steadily dropping. Raistlin was shivering by the time they stepped ashore, and his good humour earlier had disappeared when he had seen how little steel they really had. Enough for a meal and a bed tonight, but after that they would have to sleep rough.
Worse, Raistlin quickly saw that Dalamar had been quite right in assuming the Dragonarmies had taken Balifor, while the city was still standing, it was also completely crawling with draconians. While the misshapen creatures paid none of them no attention, it was nerve racking to be so close to the creatures that had nearly killed both him and Dalamar on several occasions.
They spent quite a while searching the shorefront of Balifor, finally coming upon a tavern that didn't seem too busy or expensive, best of all, there were no draconians there.
The inside of the 'Pig and Whistle' was dark, but clean, and there were only a handful of patrons there, all weather-beaten sailors. Neither they, nor the pig-faced innkeeper did more than mutter amongst themselves as they went in, which was a relief.
The innkeep- who's odd features no doubt gave the tavern at least part of it's name, and who introduced himself as William Sweetwater- showed them to a table near the back, and asked if they required anything.
"Ale for us." Tanis ordered, settling in one of the chairs.
"And hot water." Raistlin added, he collapsed in a chair opposite the Half-elf and pushed another out for Dalamar. The Dark elf took it, nodding thanks, and sat next to him.
Tanis took of the battered leather purse which held what was left of their funds, and emptied it out. Raistlin sighed at the miserable amount that fell out. He'd been right, enough for a meal and perhaps rooms for the night, but nothing else.
"Bread and cheese then," Caramon said gloomily. Tanis sighed and looked up at innkeeper, who nodded.
After a quick glance around to make sure no one wanted to add anything, William Sweetwater nodded again and bustled back to the bar.
When he came back, he brought not only bread and cheese, but also a platter of cold meats, and gruffly told them to put their money away, since they were 'clearly in trouble of some kind, and that's as plain as this pig's snout on my face.'
Riverwind refused, shoving his coins back at the innkeeper.
"We're in a bad enough situation as it is," Dalamar growled at the Plainsman, then turning to William, "Thank you for the offer, it is much appreciated."
Riverwind's eyes narrowed, "We'll not accept charity."
The Dark elf sneered, "Then starve."
He brushed the coins away, sending them dancing over the tabletop.
Raistlin picked up one of the coins as it rolled towards him, it was one from the Dragonarmies, and the human mage suspected it would be best to pay with something else, as he doubted the people here took too kindly to anyone aligned with the draconians overrunning their town. He tossed it back in the purse and took another, this one from Tarsis. Idly, he flicked it through his fingers as he thought over their current situation.
Even though it was winter, food might not be such a problem, since both Tanis and Riverwind were skilled at hunting. He and Dalamar could do fairly well too, after five years as mercenaries they were good at foraging. The main problem, other than lack of shelter- which in deep winter and this far south, could be dangerous- was travelling.
If Balifor was under the control of the Dragon Highlords, then so would the lands to the north and, probably, east. He had hoped to have enough money to bribe their way past the patrols and checks they would inevitably encounter, but if they didn't... it wouldn't take long until a particularly shrewd captain realised they were the same group that had caused all the trouble in Abanasinia, and then it would be the end for all of them.
Raistlin's train of thought was abruptly derailed at the sudden realisation that he had an audience. He had been toying absent-mindedly with the coin, bouncing it from knuckle to knuckle, then along his fingers, finally flicking it to his other hand to repeat the performance.
It was easy enough for him, Dalamar had once teased him that he was as light-fingered and deft as any kender- a jibe that got him an elbow in the ribs-, but it was enough to catch the attention of not only the innkeeper, but two of his patrons.
An idea forming in his mind, Raistlin kept bouncing the coin along the fingers of one hand, quietly weaving a cantrip with the other. His audience didn't notice.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the human mage finished the spell, and the coin appeared to leap high in the air, when in fact Raistlin had deftly slipped it into his free hand. His audience stared as the illusionary coin vanished, then reappeared with five of it's fellows, spinning around the mage's hood. With a quick gesture and a smile, Raistlin sent them twirling around the balding head of the innkeep, who was staring at the spectacle open-mouthed.
"Take one for your trouble," Raistlin whispered easily, as if flying coins were all in a day's work. And once, they had been. He had worked as an illusionist before, and had often performed such tricks.
William Sweetwater blinked nervously, but egged on by his fellows, he tried to grab a coin, only to have his hand pass straight through it. The illusion vanished, as Raistlin knew it would, and the coins vanished instantly.
The human mage smiled again, and held out the real coin, "I give you this as payment, but be careful. It may burn a hole in your pocket." With that he tossed it at the innkeep.
William caught it, then yelped as it seemed to catch fire, blue and green flames licking hungrily from the battered steel. With a gasp, he dropped it, stamping on it to put out the flames as his patrons roared with laughter.
Raistlin dispelled the magic with a quick wave of his hand and the flames went out, leaving the coin perfectly whole and undamaged. William picked it up with a sheepish smile.
"That's worth the meat!" He laughed, waving it at the group.
"And a night's lodgings!" One of the patrons put in slapping down a few more coins with a grin. Enough for rooms for the night, and more. And there would /be/ more where that came from, if Raistlin had any say in the matter.
Raistlin's looked around at the others. Dalamar was hiding a smile of his own behind his sleeve, looking impressed, while Tanis and the rest just looked astonished.
"I think." Raistlin said, with a touch of self-satisfaction, "That we have solved our problems."

Skull Bearer.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Nocturnale