AN: Set in a Star Wars world with Dragonlance species and a bunch of other things. Um… kinda vague at first, but I hope you guys can catch on, hehe. I find it very amusing seeing that DL and SW have a bunch in common. :0 If I don't get enough interest, I will not continue. Fair warning, so please review.

Flip Side

"Three is the number of those who do holy work;
Two is the number of those who do lover's work;
One is the number of those who do perfect evil;
Or perfect good."

-Clive Barker, Abarat.

Chapter One: A rare find

Set in the Golden Age of the Jedi Order when the Jedi were large in numbers and the Republic was uncorrupt. Everything was solid black and white. The whole universe was far from peace, however. Slave trades held strong, the black market was flourishing, and there was an uneasy feeling that kept up in the back of the Jedi Council's mind…

oOo

Young Raistlin Majere stood along side his master, eyeing the elven baby with disdain. The padawan's dull blue eyes unfocused then fixed themselves upon the form of his master, who leaned over the silent bundle that shielded the baby from the chill of the falling rain.

"I told you so," Raistlin hissed, liking the chance to gloat. The boy hugged his Jedi cloak closer to his shivering body. He was amused to see a small frown on his master's face.

"The force is strong in you," the older man said simply, lifting the child into his arms. Clear silver eyes stared back at him. Neither alarmed or scared by the two Jedi, the elf child was as quiet as the dead. Had it not been for Raistlin's extremely force sensitive senses, the baby would have died alone right here. The two had been sent as negotiators between the two planets of Silvanesti and Qualinesti. Despite the numerous peace treaties the two have signed, the two elven planets were still at the brink of war. Tired of sitting through the idle chatter of the Silvanesti lords, Raistlin had excused himself, only to return later speaking curtly that his master should come with him.

The padawan had heard the calling of a force-sensitive being. A rare thing indeed to find on any elven land. Blessed with grace, sharp eyesight, and beauty, the elves had little need for the force genetics. Elves that that were born with the gift were said to be cursed and bad luck. It was a silly rumor that grew into an epidemic of orphaned youngsters with pointed ears. At first skeptical of Raistlin's urgings, the master found it easier to just do as the boy said. They ended up taking a speeder to the edge of Silvanost, finding the baby wrapped in blankets.

But how…? Raistlin couldn't have possibly sensed the child from such a distance!

The man felt his padawan's mind shift restlessly, their bond through the force being well formed. However, as much as he tried to get closer to Raistlin, the young boy would always draw away. It wasn't enough to read each other's thoughts. Though only twelve years of age, Raistlin had an extraordinary talent in the force.

"With a midi-chlorian count of over twenty thousand, I suppose you're right," Raistlin said, flicking the thin apprentice braid over his shoulder. The string of brown hair whipped around, caught by the wind and slapped his other cheek as if to reprimand the padawan for his arrogance.

The man's face twisted into a mirthless smile. He didn't have a reply for Raistlin's comment, so he changed the subject.

"An elf," he murmured, "A Jedi elf. We don't get very many of those."

"Seeing that the whole lot is killed or abandoned before we can get to them."

Master Fistandantilus chuckled dryly, handing the baby over to his padawan. Raistlin took the baby in his arms, looking rather uncomfortable.

"We should get the baby to the Temple as soon as possible."

"What about the negotiations?" Raistlin asked without much enthusiasm. He shifted the bundle of flesh in his arms, a bit startled to hear a small gurgle of protest from the child. A small pale hand pulled out from the wrap of blankets to tug at his padawan's braid. Raistlin caught the flash of silver on the baby's wrist. He tilted his head to get a better look at the bracelet… no… not bracelet. Servant's wrist cuffs.

"I don't think the lords will take kind to seeing a force-sensitive elf-child. We should leave as soon as possible then come back after we've dropped off the child," Fistandantilus said. He glanced back, seeing that Raistlin's attention was diverted to something else. "Now what's this?"

Raistlin looked up, taking the baby's hand and holding it out for his master to see.

"His parents were probably slaves or servants. It's got the I.D. number and name engraved," the boy answered flatly.

Fistandantilus glanced at the cuff.

"Dalamar Argent," he read outloud.

"At least we didn't need to come up with a name."

"Indeed. With your lack of creativity, I wonder what it could've been."

"Why would I have to name it?" Raistlin snapped.

"You found it, padawan."

"Well, master, Dalamar is his name, so rest assured," Raistlin said coolly, shoving the baby back into Fistandantilus' hold. The boy started to walk back towards the speeder. "Duty is what lead me to him."

"Duty? As a Jedi?" Fistandantilus asked, just wanting to get the last words. There was an odd note in his voice, something he was sure the boy wouldn't miss.

Railstin whirled around, his normally neutral face becoming dark. He stared at his master, lips curving into a small smirk.

"What else is there, master?"

The Jedi Master paused, gazing warily back at his padawan. Somethings were just too much. The air grew thick with tension and the rain added nothing more than a gloomy atmousphere. The two Jedi stood alone. Roused by the feeling of clashing minds, Dalamar finally issued a small wail. He was cold, wet, hungry and restless in Fistandantilus' arms. It wasn't until then that the Master caught sight of Raistlin's hand on his lightasber. Slim fingers traced over the hilt as if in a nervous habit.

The master chuckled, looking down at Dalamar.

"Perhaps I might get a chance to train him…"

Raistlin snorted, "Not that I'm jealous, but you know you can't. You still have me." The boy's reminder to the Jedi rule of one apprentice to a master at a time annoyed Fistandantilus. He heard a hint of panic in Raistlin's voice. Oh no… not because of jealousy…

"You're skilled enough to take the Knight Trials," he said, growing irritated that his padawan nodded in agreement, "That way, I could get rid of you." From an outsider's view, it seemed that the master and padawan were merely teasing each other, but the both of them knew that this was no joke.

"At this age, the council will never allow it," Raistlin replied, "But dear master, that's not the point. I still have so much more to learn from you…" Sarcasm bit deep with each word.

"You plan to kill me, don't you, padawan?"

"I know what you are, master," Raistlin returned, "And I will kill you for it." With that, he trudged on, footsteps barely making a sound on the soggy ground.

Fistandantilus smiled. The threat was not something new. Raistlin needed him as he needed Raistlin. For now, things would work out. The master followed after his padawan, glancing down at the silent body in his arms.

"And I wonder what role you would have to play…"

End Chapter.

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