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Nocturnale	By : Skullbearer Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1933 -:- 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
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Here we are, chapter one of my version on Dragons of Winter Night, which will definitely be shorter than Autumn Twilight, thank Nuitari.
Dedicated to Chetwynd for the beta and for giving this instalment its name.
Nocturnale
Chapter one - To Depart
We get some rules to follow
That and this
-No one Knows, Queens of the Stone Age.
You would think that after everything they had done for them, the dwarves would be a little more accommodating. Finding the Hammer of Kharas had hardly been easy work, and the least they could expect was a little slack on the part of the mountain dwarves. Apparently not.
Dalamar returned the dwarf's expression scowl for scowl, but this one had a ridiculously thick beard, a moustache that put Sturm's to shame, and devilishly thick eyebrows, making it hard for Dalamar to intimidate the square-inch of face not overgrown with hair.
The Dark elf was wondering if the dwarf might show him a little more respect -or at least less vitriol- with his beard shaved off, when someone tugged at the back of his robes.
"Let it go," Raistlin said wearily.
Throwing one last ugly look at the dwarf, Dalamar turned away, sighing.
Thorbardin might be a sight better than Qualinesti, but staying anywhere where you were constantly subject to derision would wear on anyone's nerves. At least on the road he and Raistlin could be left alone. Here, the inhabitants of the dwarven stronghold seemed to have no issue with telling them exactly what they thought of mages and Dark elves. Even the Red Robe, who tended to be harder to get at, had finally lost his temper at one particularly irritating individual, retaliating with some choice comments about how Krynn might have been better served had the army of Fistandantilus razed Thorbardin to the ground. Dalamar had been impressed. The scene that had followed had been rather ugly and after that, the majority of the mountain dwarves had left them alone. Nevertheless, there were still those who, for some reason or another, took particular umbrage at their presence and went out of their way to make that perfectly clear.
Hopefully, hey would be leaving soon, Half-elven was sitting in council with the Highseekers, trying to work out what should happen now. The humans could hardly stay in Thorbardin after all.
Dalamar didn't want to stay either. Quite despite the place's inhabitants, he'd never liked being underground at the best of times. Pax Tharkas had been tolerable, he'd had enough to worry about to keep him from wondering if the roof was going to come down, but this was putting him even more on the edge. Looking for the Hammer had been particularly grinding; it meant going even deeper underground and hunting around a complete maze of corridors. After that little escapade, he had headed straight outside and not moved until he could face the endless tunnels again.
No, the sooner they left, the better.
Yet at the same time... At least here they could forget certain problems. The dark mage hadn't seen Sturm for more than a few minutes at a stretch, not counting when they went hunting for the Hammer, and he could avoid certain... issues with Raistlin and the secrets his love persisted in keeping.
The Dark elf had no doubt that when they left, those two particular difficulties would be the first to emerge.
The human wizard ran a hand over his shoulder. "Shall we go and listen in on the Council?"
Dalamar turned and smiled. "I’m sure they'll need /someone/ with half a brain to check if their plan holds water."
Raistlin rolled his strange golden eyes. "They won't welcome it though."
Quietly, so as not to attract attention, they made their way towards the small chamber where the Highseekers were meeting.
Personally, Dalamar wondered why anyone even bothered to listen to the fools. These same people had thought the Dragon Highlords were here to help them. Still, when the two mages ducked through the dwarf-sized doorway, they found that Elistan was the one speaking. Though the old man didn't like either of them, the Silvanesti exile for one had to admit that he spoke a good deal more sense than the rest of the Highseekers.
At least, that was the Dark elf's opinion until he heard of the plan the man was proposing.
Quite besides the considerable personal disgust that even /thinking/ about it brought, Dalamar found it hard to imagine what Elistan was planning to achieve. Very well, he could excuse the man's ignorance -he himself was probably the only one in Thorbardin who knew that Tarsis hadn't been a port city since the Cataclysm, but even so, assuming they travelled past Tarsis and to the port cities beyond, what was he planning to do after that? Where was he planning to send the hundreds of refugees? And, to be perfectly honest, the very thought of returning to Tarsis in any context was enough to turn his stomach.
Raistlin was looking at him carefully, clearly thinking this sudden reminder of his past had hurt him. And he was right, and the realisation that even after so long, the memory could still cause pain angered the Dark elf.
"I'm fine," he hissed, more sharply than he meant.
The Red Robe blinked at his tone, and looked annoyed for a moment before sighing and moving further inside the room.
Quite a few people started at their sudden appearance, and not one looked pleased to see them. Tanis even looked ready to order them out.
Raistlin, however, ignored them, scowling around in disgust. "You are fools," he hissed, "and you are living a fool's dream. How often must we remind you? How often must we warn you of the portent of the stars? What do you say to yourselves when you look into the night sky and see the gaping black holes where the two constellations are missing?"
Clearly, the Council was in denial. It was all too easy to lie to yourself, Dalamar had found; even he and Raistlin had fallen in that trap before, and these people had obviously convinced themselves that the fallen stars meant nothing.
Seeing the long-suffering looks the Council shot amongst themselves, the Dark elf stepped up to offer his support. "Can you not see? Are you all blind to this? The constellations are the marks of the Gods. So if they are not in the sky, they must be elsewhere. The constellation of the Queen of Darkness is missing because She is here on Krynn! And the Warrior, the ancient God Paladine, has gone too, gone to fight her."
This time the looks were of growing outrage, and the dark robed wizard felt even more irritated. Who were they to lecture /him/ on what was blasphemy? He had known of the true Gods while these fools were still bowing and scraping to the ridiculous Belzorite statue!
"Mark our words," Raistlin finished. "With the Queen of Darkness come her 'shrieking hosts', as it says in the 'Canticle'. And the shrieking are dragons!"
Dalamar had to fight down a smile as the human mage hissed out the last words. The Red Robe certainly had a flair for the dramatic, and hopefully, that would help drive his point home.
Unfortunately, it didn't work. Hederick, the Highseeker of Solace who still sported a blackened hand as testimony to his prejudices, was certainly unconvinced. "We know all this," he started, scowling at the two mages. He was forced to back down under the combined glare, no longer ice and steel but ice and fire. The look in Raistlin and Dalamar's eyes were enough to make the idiot's knees buckle. "W-hat are you driving at?" he stuttered when he found his voice.
"Peace no longer exists anywhere on Krynn," the human wizard said simply. "Go, find ships, travel where you will. Wherever you go, you will see those gaping black holes. Wherever you go, there will be dragons!" He looked to be about to say more, but was overcome by a coughing fit. He leant heavily on his staff, doubled over against the spasms. The fit was a bad one, and Raistlin's hand was stained with blood when he took it away from his mouth. Dalamar stepped closer and rubbed the mage's back to ease the pain, scowling when Caramon rose to help. The last thing they needed was that big lout blundering about.
As soon as the Red Robe had recovered enough to walk, they left the hall.
Raistlin wiped his mouth again, and his lover winced at the flecks of blood. He had given up on the hope that the new clerics could heal his lover, but if nothing else, he could at least know who had hurt his companion so badly.
One way or another, he'd have their head.
"Kitchens," the human choked out and Dalamar nodded, heading down the long corridor that led to the communal kitchens of Thorbardin.
The Red Robe had a second, shorter coughing fit as they reached the swelteringly hot rooms where most of the cooking was carried out. The few dwarves in the kitchens gave both mages ugly looks, but they had enough sense not to challenge them as Raistlin sat down on a stool and the Dark elf found a kettle of hot water.
The human drank his tea down with a sigh of relief. The Silvanesti pulled up a second seat and smiled at the younger mage. Raistlin's returning smile was a little embarrassed and he looked away, studying the red glaze of his mug intently.
Amused, Dalamar leant over and gently kissed his lover's forehead before sitting back. "Feeling better?"
Raistlin looked up and nodded, then his smiled faded. "What did you think of what was being proposed?" The look in the younger mage's eyes told his friend that he wasn't expecting anything good.
The Silvanesti sighed, "I agree with you that it would not only be a waste of time, but it would also be dangerous. Travelling like that will just leave them open to attack, besides, where would they go? I didn't hear that proposed."
Raistlin nodded. "And like all foolish notions, it will probably be followed."
The Dark elf looked down at his hands, and swallowed. The idea of going back to Tarsis... well, there were few places that would hurt more to go back to, short of Silvanesti itself.
However, the human wizard was right, they would probably end up going back there. Of course, he could just point out that Tarsis was no longer a port city at all, but he knew it wouldn't change much. They would still pass through it on their way to Rigitt or wherever.
He felt a stab of anger in the knowledge that the Council would expect them to go there. He would have been happy to leave Thorbardin only an hour ago, but after learning of the destination...
He didn't notice how hard he was clenching his hands until Raistlin covered his fists with his own slender fingers. Dully, the Dark elf looked down as his lover slid his hands up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him in close. Dalamar closed his eyes, resting his head on the human’s thin chest and breathing the warm scent of magic and spices that clung to his lover.
"Ahem." Someone behind them cleared their throat pointedly.
The Dark elf pulled away reluctantly, turning to scowl at whoever had been rude -and foolish- enough to interrupt.
Oh, wonderful. Tanis.
"Isn't it your turn to stand watch, /half-human/?" Dalamar snarled.
Tanis looked as though he would much rather be walking the endless walls of Thorbardin in the freezing night than spend time talking to them, but spoke anyway. "As you know, we're going to Tarsis. You're the only one who knows anything about the place, so I was hoping you might tell us something."
Gods, that was rich. The Half-elf had been the one to shout out his secret to half of Solace Vale, not to mention agreeing to drag them off to the place where that shameful secret took place, and now he wanted /Dalamar/ to do him a /favour?/ The Silvanesti had to struggle not to throw something -preferably a painful spell- at the self-pitying bastard. Instead, he answered. "I don't know much," he said shortly. "I was never allowed inside the walls-"
"-Which shows they were cleverer than most," Brightblade put in, ducking through the low door after Tanis.
"Not now Sturm," the half-elf said tiredly.
"I don't have much to tell you about it," Dalamar finished, ignoring the knight. "I don't think you'd be interested to know about the slums, even if I wanted to tell you, so all I know is that the inner city has been deserted since the Cataclysm, and that they don't like strangers." He shrugged. "Good luck getting in."
The Dark elf could feel Raistlin's eyes boring into his back. Yes, it was petty, but right now petty was exactly what he was in the mood for. If they had to go to that blasted place again, he was going get as much enjoyment out of it as he could, and if that was as little as watching the companion's expressions when they noticed that the sea had vanished, then so be it.
An old memory prodded itself into the forefront of his mind, and Dalamar had to hide a smile; perhaps this journey might not be as awful as suspected. In fact it might be even... productive.
The Red Robe waited until the Half-elf and the knight had left to turn back to Dalamar, sighing. "Now what was that for? You know very well there's no sea around Tarsis, you were living in one of the old ships for pity's sake!"
"They would have gone anyway," Dalamar interrupted. "At least this way I'll have the pleasure of their faces when they see Tarsis for the first time."
Raistlin smiled thinly. "That would be entertaining, yes, but you know that'll do nothing but aggravate the knight."
The dark-robed wizard snorted, "Who cares?"
The younger mage rubbed his forehead, exasperated. "Dalamar, you and Brightblade are about this close to killing each other; he's drawn steel on us before, and I'm sure he'll be looking for any excuse to do so again. We don't need any more trouble."
The Dark elf looked over to the door where the Solamnic and Half-elven had disappeared through. "I don't think there will /be/ trouble, or at least, not much of it."
Raistlin looked about to enquire, then shook his head. For once, the knowledge-seeking mage simply didn’t want to know.
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The journey started out well enough, the weather was warm, and Dalamar was reminded of the stark contrast to when he had last been here. The dwarven gate had been closed then, and it had been mid winter. The memory of the endless climb past the mountains was not a pleasant one, though anything had been better than what he had left behind.
And now he was going back; different circumstances to be sure -thank Nuitari-, but still.
The companionship also left a lot to be desired. The others were absurdly cheerful and seemed to be pretending that the last few months had not occurred. In contrast, Raistlin was even quieter than usual. Any question posed ton him was answered with a snarl, and while he was more polite to the Dark elf, he was no more talkative.
Dalamar began to understand why a few days later. At first, he had thought the feeling of danger had been prompted by his own memories, but even those couldn't explain the growing aura of menace that followed them as they headed south. It had been like the storm clouds in Xak Tsaroth had invoked, only quieter and more insidious. By the time the first snows fell on the party, the others had also felt it, and the sight of the clear trail they were leaving through the snow did not improve the feeling. Then again, if something was following them, they would see it; the Plains of Dust were completely flat for miles around.
Dalamar shivered and wrapped himself in his thick black cloak, grateful for it. The cold was biting and he knew it would only grow worse the further south they travelled. It had also been early winter when he had been exiled, he remembered, and it was a miracle he had been able to reach Tarsis at all, it had been so cold. In addition, he hadn't had the protection of the fur-lined cloak he now wore. Cold and hunger, that was all he could remember of those first few weeks, and perhaps it was a good thing.
The mind has ways of protecting itself against the unbearable.
A hand fell on his shoulder then. The Silvanesti didn't move, just lifting his own hand to cover it. Raistlin stepped closer and slid his other arm around the Dark elf's waist, embracing him from behind, and resting his head on his lover's shoulder. Dalamar closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the human’s hand, grateful for the support.
Crushing down the memories under a force of will colder even than the snow around them, the dark mage forced the thoughts out of his mind. He was all right, would be all right. They would both be fine, because at the moment, Dalamar really couldn't deal with any other possibility.
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Even with Raistlin, the journey was to Dalamar every bit as cold and unpleasant as when he had bee gone from there. Perhaps even worse, because at least then he'd been warmed by the certainty that wherever he was going, it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.
The Dark elf hid a smile and glanced over at his companion. Well, he had been right about that, anyway. But even the knowledge that his stay at Tarsis would be very different that the last time he was there didn't put him at ease. It wasn't just fear of being recognised -he had been gone for nearly a decade and no doubt his previous 'customers' had found other unfortunates to sate their lust on. Dalamar crushed that thought down mercilessly, no more.
He was angry, at Tanis, at himself, at the Gods. He had spent so long beating down those memories until they could no longer hurt him, and it seemed the fates liked to mock him by dragging them out again. Once in Solace, with Caramon and his band of merry fools, and now here. Just when the wounds were starting to heal, they would be torn open again.
Gloomily, the Dark elf stared south, at the line of small hills beyond which the land-locked city of Tarsis waited.
The companions' expressions had better be worth this.

Skull Bearer.
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