I DO NOT own Dragonlance or any of the characters read in this Fict with the exception of Farren Timechaser, Theogaroth Half-Elven, Amethyst Nightshade, Ryun Nightshade and Aeram Silverleaf.

I know there are people reading this and being like WTF but this was purely written for fun because I had a similar dream. So enjoy getting a look in my head!

Chapter Seven: Dead Welcoming

Sturm settled down beneath a tree. Tanis walked over to the brook and drank thirstily. Suddenly he heard a strangled cry behind him. He drew his sword and stood, all in one motion. The others had their weapons drawn.

Only Raistlin sat, unmoving."Put your swords away," he said. "They will do you no good. Only a weapon of powerful magic could harm these."

An army of warriors surrounded us. That alone would have been enough to chill anyone's blood. But the companions could have dealt with that. What we couldn't handle was the horror that overwhelmed and numbed our senses. I recalled Caramon's flippant comment; "I'll fight the living any day of the week, but not the dead."

These warriors were dead.

Nothing more than fleeting, fragile white light outlined their bodies. It was as if the human warmth that had been theirs while they lived lingered on horribly after death. The flesh had rotted away, leaving behind the body's image as remembered by the soul. The soul apparently remembered other things, too. Each warrior was dressed in ancient, remembered armour. Each warrior carried remembered weapons that could inflict well- remembered death. But the undead needed no weapons. They could kill from fear alone, or by the touch of their grave-cold hands.

I backed away in fear leaning up against a tree as my new friends struggled to overcome their own fears. I watched Raistlin move in front of the group and Tanis slowly joined him.

The pale crystal light reflected on the mage's face, making it seem nearly as ghostly as the faces of the dead before him."Welcome to Darken Wood, Tanis," the mage said.

"Raistlin-" Tanis choked. He had to try more than once to get his dry throat to form a sound. "What are these-"

"Spectral minions," the mage whispered without taking his eyes from them. "We are fortunate."

"Fortunate?" Tanis repeated incredulously. "Why?"

"These are the spirits of men who gave their pledge to perform some task. They failed in that pledge, and it is their doom to keep performing the same task over and over until they win their release and find true rest in death."

"How in the name of the Abyss does that make us fortunate?" Tanis whispered harshly, releasing his fear in anger. "Perhaps they pledged to rid the forest of all who entered!"

"That is possible"-Raistlin flickered a glance at the half-elf-"though I do not think it likely. We will find out."

Before Tanis could react, the mage stepped away from the group and faced the spectres.

"Raist!" Caramon said in a strangled voice, starting to shove forward.

"Keep him back, Tanis," Raistlin commanded harshly. "Our lives depend on this."

Gripping the warrior's arm, Tanis asked Raistlin, "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to cast a spell that will enable us to communicate with them. I will perceive their thoughts. They will speak through me."

The mage threw his head back, his hood slipping off. He stretched out his arms and began to speak. "Ast bilak par-bilakar. Suh tangus moipar!"he murmured, then repeated that phrase three times.

As Raistlin spoke, the crowd of warriors parted and a figure more awesome and terrifying than the rest appeared. The spectre was taller than the rest and wore a shimmering crown. His pallid armour was richly decorated with dark jewels. His face showed the most terrible grief and anguish.

He advanced upon Raistlin.

Caramon choked and averted his eyes. Nobody dared not speak or cry out, fearful of disturbing the mage and breaking the spell. The spectre raised a fleshless hand, reached out slowly to touch the young mage. I trembled-the spectre's touch meant certain death. But Raistlin, entranced, did not move.

I wondered if he even saw the chill hand coming toward his heart.

Then Raistlin spoke."You who have been long dead, use my living voice to tell us of your bitter sorrow. Then give us leave to pass through this forest, for our purpose is not evil, as you will see if you read our hearts."

The spectre's hand halted abruptly. The pale eyes searched Raistlin's face.

Then, shimmering in the darkness, the spectre bowed before the mage. I saw Tanis suck in his breath, he had sensed Raistlin's power, but if he only knew what the mage was truly capable of...!

Raistlin returned the bow, then moved to stand beside the spectre. His face was nearly as pale as that of the ghostly figure next to him. The living dead and the dead living, I thought, shuddering.

When Raistlin spoke, his voice was no longer the wheezing whisper of the fragile mage. It was deep and dark and commanding and rang through the forest. It was cold and hollow and might have come from below the ground. "Who are you who trespass in Darken Wood?"

Tanis tried to answer, but his throat had dried up completely.

Caramon, next to him, couldn't even lift his head. Then I watched in terror as Tas moved forward. I saw Tanis reach out to grab for Tasslehoff, but it was too late. The small figure, topknot dancing, ran out into the light of Raistlin's staff and stood before the spectre.

Tasslehoff bowed respectfully. "I am Tasslehoff Burrfoot," he said. "My friends"-he waved his small hand at the group- "call me Tas. Who are you?"

"It matters little," the sepulchral voice intoned. "Know only that we are warriors from a time long forgotten."

"Is it true that you broke a pledge and that's how you come to be here?" Tas asked with interest.

"It is. We pledged to guard this land. Then came the smouldering mountain from the heavens. The land was ripped apart. Evil things crept out from the bowels of the earth and we dropped our swords and fled in terror until bitter death overtook us. We have been called to fulfill our oath as evil once more stalks the land. And here will we remain until evil is driven back and balance is restored again."

Suddenly Raistlin gave a shriek and flung back his head, his eyes rolling upwards until the watching companions could see only the whites. His voice became a thousand voices crying out at once.

This startled even the Kender, who stepped back a pace and looked around uneasily for Tanis.

I gave a whimper pressing myself deeper into the tree.

The spectre raised his hand in a commanding gesture, and the tumult ceased as though swallowed by the darkness. "My men demand to know the reason you enter Darken Wood. If it is for evil, you will find that you have brought evil upon yourselves, for you will not live to see the moons rise."

"No, not evil. Certainly not," Tasslehoff said hurriedly. "It's kind of a long story..." I listened to the familiar tale of the events in the Inn of the Last Home.

"Blue crystal!" The spectre's voice interrupted echoing hollowly from Raistlin's throat as he began to walk toward them. Tanis and Strum both jumped forward, grabbing Tas and dragging him out of the way. But the spectre seemed intent only on examining the group. His flickering eyes focused on Goldmoon. Raising a pale hand, he motioned her forward.

"No!" Riverwind tried to prevent her from leaving his side, but she pushed away gently and walked over to stand before the spectre, the staff in her hand. The ghostly army encircled them.

Suddenly the spectre drew his sword from its pallid sheath. He held it high overhead and white light tinged with blue flame flickered from the blade.

"Look at the staff!" Goldmoon gasped.

The staff glowed pale blue, as if answering the sword. The ghostly king turned to Raistlin and reached his pale hand toward the entranced mage. Caramon gave a hoarse bellow and broke free of Tanis's grip.

"Don't-" I cried finding my voice suddenly knowing what was about to happen, he seemed not to hear me.

Drawing his sword, he lunged at the undead warrior. The blade pierced the flickering body, but it was Caramon who screamed in pain and dropped, writhing, to the ground. Tanis and Sturm knelt beside him. Raistlin stared ahead, his expression unchanged, unmoving.

"Caramon, where-" Tanis held him, trying frantically to see where the big man

was injured.

"My hand!" Caramon rocked back and forth, sobbing, his left hand-his sword hand-thrust tightly under his right arm.

"What's the matter?" Tanis asked. Then, seeing the warrior's sword on the ground, he knew; Caramon's sword was rimed with frost. Tanis looked up in horror and saw the spectre's hand close tightly around Raistlin's wrist.

A shudder wracked the mage's frail body; his face twisted in pain but he did not fall. The mage's eyes closed, the lines of cynicism and bitterness smoothed away and the peace of death descended on him. I watched in awe, only partially aware of Caramon's hoarse cries. Seeing Raistlin's face transform again, this time imbued with ecstasy.

The mage's aura of power intensified until it glowed around him with an almost palpable brilliance.

"We are summoned," Raistlin said. The voice was his own and yet like none they had ever heard him use, I knew it was the Lich. "We must go."

The mage turned his back on them and walked into the woods, the ghostly king's fleshless hand still grasping his wrist. The circle of undead parted to let him pass.

"Stop them," Caramon moaned. He staggered to his feet.

"We can't!" Tanis fought to restrain him, and finally the big man collapsed in the half-elf's arms, weeping like a child. "We'll follow him. He'll be all right. He's magi, Caramon-we can't understand. We'll follow-"

The eyes of the undead flickered with an unholy light as they watched the companions pass them and enter the forest. The spectral army closed ranks behind us.

The companions stepped into a raging battle. Steel rang, wounded men shrieked for help. So real was the clash of armies in the darkness that Sturm drew his sword reflexively. I watched the battle and backed away in fear, magic had been until a few days ago been a fairy tale and the whole event proved overwhelming as I fainted.