By the way I changed the stories name from "Reunion" to White
Clerics, Back Magic "Reunion" sounded just to…just to…well…boring,
stupid, and all around slap happy for me.
Disclaimer: All of the above (save myself and my mother) belong to Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. The word effanineffable belongs to T.S. Eliot. The plotline, idea, and rest of the story belong to me, and if you try to steal from my clutches, pass it off as yours, and/or make money by sealing it in mass production (ha, ha, ha) I'll lock you in a extraordinarily boring dungeon, secured by magic, with one extremely bored kender who has taken a liking to whatever items you have on your personal. As for your house, I shall let a thousand kender have leave of it, and whatever is left I shall give to gnomes and their department of Ourstudyinthedwellingsofotherracesfarlesssuperiorthanourselvesandourstudysonhowtoinproveandrenovatethemwithlittletimemoneyorspacewithonlytheusageofsmallhousholditemsthathaveallbeenslightytamperedwithbyourselvesandoursuperiors(thegreatgnomishconsil)andweassureyouthatyouareperfectlyandcompleatlysafeforusandoursponcershavetestedthemmanytimeswithonlya68%fatalityrateandtheexplosionsyoumightormightnotofheardecoingfromourbuildinsareall(weasureyou)afigmentofyourimmgination….ext…ext…ext….
~Lady
Crysania Majere
.
Tas sat,
huddled in a corner, weeping in misery. Goldmoon was dead, Palin wanted to kill
him, and most of all the High tower of Sorcery in Wayreth was about the most
boring place one could find on Krynn, including the Abyss, he thought with a
snuffle. All exits were blocked (including the long chimney he had made his
first escape through), and all remotely possibly interesting places were
blocked off with magical barriers to, which he found with much frustration (and
a couple of burnt fingers), lock picks had no effect. Topping it off he
couldn't even send up a prayer to the befuddled old Fizban, who was chaos knows
were. All in all he wanted to go back to his home in the inn in Solace and hide
under a blanket with some of the inns' customers more interesting items.
Getting up shakily he brushed off his bright blue leggings and tried furiously
to scrub the tear marks from his grubby face. 'I probably look like a gully
dwarf' he thought sullenly, pressing a hand to each of the walls at his
sides to help boost him up. The walls were smooth and cold to the touch and as
he rose he noted that there was a small incline on the right walls surface,
curiosity overtook him, there were no flaws in the Towers of High Sorcery, at
least, no flaws made on accident. For almost an hour he pushed, pried, poked,
prodded, and even pinched at the small slant in the wall, now he was exhausted
plus more miserable then before. Irritated and weary he balled up his small
fist and slammed a punch at the wall. The ground beneath him gave, and he found
himself falling down a hole, instinctively he put his hands out to either side
of him but the outlet was a hair breaths to wide for his arm span. As he fell
he watched in fascination as the top of the channel close to leave him
plummeting at a increasing rate in the now slightly glowing tunnel but
otherwise considerably darker tunnle. He
thoroughly enjoyed the ride and thus was greatly saddened when he halted,
suspended still in mid air. Once he got over his brief disappointment of the
fact that the ride was finished he glanced at his surroundings. Large
multi-colored gems the size of the kenders head were embedded into the glowing
walls, with a small intake of breath he reached for the largest, a darkly
colored emerald, vaguely aware that his surroundings were strangely familiar.
As his small hand touched the gem however the ride started again. Up and down
he went, pushed by the magic of the tunnel, much enjoying the ride he realized
that such a tunnel had once lead him to find Fizban after the mage was
supposedly dead, buried in a pile of chicken feathers. The kender let out a
snuffle he missed the old bumbling mage/god, what ever would he do if Tas
wasn't there to find his hat?
His
reverie was broken by the sensation of flying out the end of the passageway and
landing on the hard cold stone of the tower. Glancing up Tas caught his breath
and for only the second time in his long life Tasslehoff Burrfoot was
speechless. In the direction the kender was gaping at was a large platinum
portal, it's frame constructed to look like a large platinum dragon curled into
a tight oval, but this is not what made our kender friend catch his breath (the
portal to the Abyss had much the same features with much more color and quite a
few more heads.) What made Tas catch his breath was the stooped figure of an
old man clad in mousy gray robes with a lopsided dilapidated matching gray hat
and a long wagging white beard who sat inside the gateway muttering to
himself, as the mad are wont to do. Listening carefully to his ramblings one
might hear the occasional word 'fire ball' tossed into the jumble of
hodge-podge words. After about a minute of the kenders stunned silence he
managed to choke out one single unbelievable, life changing, world altering,
adventure starting, boredom ending word.
"F…Fizban?"
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
The man
seemed to fall in slow motion on to the inns gleaming wooden floorboards but no
matter how slow he appeared to fall Crysania still got to him after he made the
muffled thunk of body hitting hard against timbers. Being still a Cleric in her
actions, even though Palidines disappearance had stripped her of title, she
dropped to his side on the floor in an effort to aid him.
His skin was a deep bronze, the
color you get from hanging out in the sun to long, he was short and stocky,
wearing a milky white sleeveless shirt, and sporting dear leather jerkin. His
gnarled right hand was still tightly clutching a small, thick staff of what
appeared to be oak. All in all he made the distinctive impression of a semi
rich merchant.
Instinctively she placed a hand
to his forehead to check for fever, and what greeted her tentatively gentle
hand made her draw back with a soft in taking of breath. An unnatural warmth
pulsed from his brow, not the heat of fever but neither that of the regular
human temperature. It felt like some sort of inner glow like an internal fire
was burning inside him. A fire she had felt before with only one other person.
The person whose face was the last she had seen before the world had gone dark
on her, the person whose golden eyes shined in her deepest nightmares and most
passionate dreams, whose metallic face seemed to be etched on the under side of
her eyelids.
She rubbed her hand hard against
her clothes as if to wip the notion from her, completely shaking the thought from
her mind. She was just reacting to violently from the events of the last two
weeks, that and her over active, highly sensitive imagination had been let
****Flashback****
Rain beat down furiously against
the temple walls, and lighting cracked against the midnight sky illuminating
it. Reverend Daughter of Palidine Crysania could see none of this but heard the
thunder and the felling of large trees so she had a good enough idea of what
kind of storm they were in for and that amounted to a monstrous one. As fast as
she could she provided the refugees from the storm food and blanket, while
trying to fend off some of the younger would be acolytes who kept trying to
convince her that she should not be doing this kind of work and that they had
the situation perfectly under control. She snorted. Yeah right. Bumbling bunch,
the lot of them. Turning she headed toward the storeroom for more blankets the
ones she had been distributing earlier where gone now. As she rounded a corner
she felt a hand on her arm.
"Valin," she acknowledged facing
him with a smile that was more than half percent fake.
She heard his deep chuckling,
and when his mirth had ended she felt his lips brush across hers in a quick
kiss of greeting.
"You never fail to surprise me
Crys. How in the departured gods did you know it was me?" He questioned in his
deep voice that held mock astonishment.
"Though you may try to walk as
one not of the desert with your large and slightly clumsy feet," she replied in
mockingly sweet tones, "my sensitive ears heard you coming two halls away."
Truth to tell she hadn't heard Valin at all but the faint smell of roses and
spice had alerted her of his presence. A scent that was just like his
scent, a small part of her mind peeped. And that peep was like a trigger
sending out more and more that had to do with him, some of witch would
have made her blush had she allowed herself…. *Stop that!* She commanded her
irritating thoughts. She shouldn't be thinking those kinds of thoughts in this
situation, especially when related to him. *Who else?* Piped a
dangerously traitorous part of her mind. With a shove she shoved the annoying
thought in the back of her mind and continued to smile fakely at where she
assumed Valins face to be hoping he would notice nothing was troubling her.
When he spoke next she could
hear the frown of worry in his voice showing he had noticed something amiss.
"Are you all right Crys?" he questioned tentatively.
Normally she would have been
happy he noticed something was wrong, at the over concern in his voice, at the
liberal use of her pet name but today it just succeeded in making her annoyed.
Distinctly annoyed. Quite pissed off even. *Who was he to mess around in her
personal business? Just because she was blind didn't make her some fragile,
glass elf maid who should be locked in a safe else she topple over and shatter
into a million pieces. Nor was she some illiterate, spoiled child who must be
coddled with nicknames. Know that they shared a bed occasionally didn't mean
she had to become one of those royal, petite, airheads for him.* Jerking her
arm away from him in disgust she snarled, "I'm fine!" and stalked away. Leaving
a hurt, confused Valin in her trailing wake.
Once she had cooled off she
began to wonder why on earth she'd felt so damn angry and even when angry why
she'd said what she had to him. He was just being his normal pleasant self and
she'd lashed out like he'd insulted her core being. It could, she reflected,
have something to do with the god cursed acolytes and the raging storm, but
after dwelling on this theory for a while she tossed it. Of late she had been
distinctly disgusted or enraged by many of Valins actions for unknown reasons.
She had also been thinking of him much more than healthy (or so she
deemed.) Frowning she pondered this and before her rational mind could come up
with anything the small traitorous part of her was back saying *Because you
still love Raistlin, you fool!* At this she snorted. She didn't love Raistlin,
him and his arrogance, his pride, his smug sneers, his self-confidence…his
ingenious mind, his occasional smiles, his treatment of her as an equal, his
respect for a god he would challenge in an instant, and on those few times his
soft touch on her brow comforting her confused mind. She shook the thoughts
from her mind, blushing slightly. No she didn't love him, she told the smug
voice in the back of her head. *I love Valin.* her only back up was a strong
one, a wall over which the madding little voices who told her she loved a dead
person , could not penetrate. That is, till the traitor of a thing whispered
something that made the walls of her own rock-solid (or so she had thought)
fortification come crumbling down upon and around her stupefied head;
*what if you don't?*
!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@
She was brought out of her self
inflicted stupor by a small hand tugging on the corner of her long white robe.
She smiled sadly tossing her head to clear it of thoughts and looked down into
the general vicinity of where either child or kender was yanking at her flowing
skirts.
"Miss's?" came the high,
questioning, slightly trembling voice. *child,* she concluded, *kender would
have no fear in questioning, nor in anything for that matter .*
In the best grown up, self-assured,
comforting voice she could muster she answered, "Child." A sniffle greeted her
words. She offered a handkerchief which was taken by grubby hands. The loud
blowing of a nose was heard, and in to her open hand the now faintly damp
handkerchief was deposited.
"Thanks Miss's." came the
slightly muffled voice. The tiny high voice then came again more urgently,
"Miss's! Raistlin's stuck in a tree an I ca' get em down! En I don't think i'll
survive, what wit da storm en' all." The minute voice ended in pleading tones
and the noise of shuffling feet.
Crysania took a step backward, bewildered. A powerful arch magus-
evil arch magus – she corrected herself, who was supposed to be dead was stuck
in a tree in the middle of the worst lightning storm Krynn had know in
centuries and had no way of getting down? She was more than a little confused,
and apparently it showed on her face, perhaps she misunderstood the child?
The girl, seeing the noble lady's confusion, said in the tones of a well educated adult speaking to an ignorant child, "Well ya' see Miss's I was playing with em'…" she broke of at the startled look on Crysania's face as the Reverend Daughter herself was thinking *Raistlin…playing?!*
The girl thinking the Clerics confusion revolved around the game played continued, adding a small explanation, "We was play'n magic ya see. Pretending he was da real Raistlin…" Crysania's confusion cleared. The child must obviously have a brother or friend named after the infamous archmage, who was know in a tree unable to get down and seek cover from the storm. Needing to know the facts before trotting into the storms fray to save this namesake of Raistlin she gave the small female before her, her undivided attention. The child, seeing her audience was all ears, continued, "Raistlin…" The young girl paused and Crysania would have bet money the girl was giving her a calculating glance, "you do know who Raistlin is don't ya?"
Crysania gave a curt nod and a wry smile, "We're acquainted." Though Crysania could not see the effect of her words she guessed they had made some impression, an impression, she realized, that would not help her in finding the ware bouts of the other child. She was right. For the child's small blue eyes widened and her lips parted into what I, the writer, can only call open-mouthed astonishment.
After her amazed silence passed she became as curious and inquisitive as a kender. "You're 'quainted with Him Miss's?! 'Quainted? Not seen, or talked to or met but you knew 'im? My Da say's e saw 'im once. Says e's got skin made of solid gold an 'air that white as sun bleached bone, says you get a weird feeling when you're near e'm, like e's death or someting an lots more to. But my Da say's the strangest thing 'bout e'm is the eyes, all molten gold like, and in the center where those small black balls shou' be are black hourglass'! Da say's you look into those eye's en see yourself reflected in em, but you look all lifeless like, no matter 'ow much your moving or wat you waring! Says you look lifeless…and alone…." Seeing the lady's response the girl trailed off. The Clerics face, before quite white, had now gone to an unnatural pallor, the lips a light blue. The coloring of something or some one dead by a knife in the back, a sword in the gut, death by ice, or the plague, the way the girls own mother died. Her wizard hero had obviously not left pleasant memories with this lady, he seemed not to do so on the older people she met. Respecting the nobles privacy (but just barely) she changed the subject.
"Anyway, like I was saying before, we was playing magic, de other Raistlin an me, an e was stupid enough to get himself stuck in the big maple outside, would ya help me…meaning would ya get em down Miss's…?"
Crysania smiled in relief and nodded, she had been having enough confusion and difficulty with the subject of him as the picture constructed of not-entirely-suppressed dreams, memories, and the image supposedly sketched under her eyelids, this fresh reminder was not welcome and further discussion of the of the topic would most likely end with the younger girl throw out on her head into the storm.
The miniature girl then grabbed her hand and led her out into the raging tempest, her guide to an inner crossroads, a life changing rut in her life's road, and event for which both women were totally unawares.
****Still in Flashback****
E/N (end note): Yes, *sigh* we're still in the flashback but bare with
me here. Robin McKinley does this all the time. *sweat drops* that's not an
excuse for me though is it? Oh well, I've got camp so don't expect the next one
out for a couple of weeks, I'll try to make it longer and I would of finished
the flashback in this chapter but I promised I'd have it out yesterday at the
latest and I'm late! Maybe I shouldn't take so much time on E/N notes, no?
Anyway, for an excuse and reveiws:
I want 20 REVEIWS to keep
going or I'll just continue to sit on my rump reading your fics. FOR EVERY
EXTRA FIVE I'LL WRITE AN EXTRA PAGE! Thank You!
~Lady Crysania Majere
