Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Dragonlance. God help the world if I did.

Note: Yeah! Someone else likes Dalamar too! The only fics with him in them are yaoi (slash). Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against slash. *)

Chapter Two

"Ye Gods! Is he okay? Is he still alive? What happened to him? Can I have his belt knife? I've never met a wizard before," Dalamar stirred groggily. Dim mutterings became voices. One in particular bugged Dalamar enough to make him want to see where he was, the kender's voice. If there was a kender here he was not dead. Maybe he was dead, maybe the earth was saved and he was trapped in the abyss. Somehow he didn't actually believe this. His other senses started shifting back into focus. And along with full wakefulness came pain.

"Shhhh, Milkweed! He needs quiet. He's half dead, and you are making it worse!" The kender clamped his hands over its mouth. I'm supposed to be all-dead, he thought. If he were, most likely the pain would end. As with the incessant chatter that had been pounding around his head.

Dalamar opened his almond eyes, not knowing what to expect.

Adrian was lucky. She was not injured in the Chaos battle. She did not even fight. She had no skill with the sword, no magic, and very little healing ability. What she learned from her hometown would be little help here.

They weren't in the abyss she knew that much. She had been grabbed by a servant and hurled off the roof into empty space.

"Better die, than be devoured by those things, miss!" She knew there was no way out. But she couldn't not hold it against that servant, that he had tried to kill her, even if it was with a quicker death.

Than something happened. The ground rushed up to meet her and she was caught by a whirlwind. The would spun around her, she heard laughter powerful echoing laughter in her ears. She blacked out and ended up here, unhurt, unscarred.

There were others here too. All spread out across the landscaped. It was just a rolling gray plain. There was nothing to see. It was unmarked except for the few bodies. There were two dragons; those were easy to see from a distance, and other smaller bodies. Adrian had been the first to wake up.

She tried to reach some of the others. She walked towards them until suddenly she would hit an invisible barrier. Walking straight into the air and not being able to go on. She ran her fingers over the barrier. It was hard and smooth, like the walls where she was from. Tracing her fingers along it she decided to see how big the "room" she was in was. She finished back at the corner where she started. There were only two other people in her "room", which was oblong and actually quite small.

Then one of the other people began to stir.

"Hi, I'm Milkweed Dewstalker! Who are you?" The kender popped up, waving his hoopak staff wildly. "You're not one of those shadow beings, are you?"

"No-,"

"Good, because you don't look like one! Have you ever seen those things before? Neither have I," Milkweed prattled on. Adrian busied her self with watching which of the other beings got up and started walking around. Most did. A gnome and a fairy tried to talk to her, but she could not hear them. Only see their lips move. No sound crossed the walls of the room. There were still few who didn't get up. Adrian wondered, were they dead? That reminded her of the other figure.

Adrian crept over to him. He was lying on his back. Adrian reached out a trembling hand and touched his wrist. His hands were bloodstained, but she could feel as pulse. He wore the black robes of a magic user. In his belt and boot there were two daggers. There were unused. You can't fight the shadow beings with weapons. Adrian drew back the folds of his blood soaked robe. It dripped into her hands when she squeezed. She gasped and backed up in disgust.

"What's that about?" She had forgotten about Milkweed.

"It's nothing. I'm Adrian, by the way,"

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know," It looked as though half his chest had been torn out and was messily healing back together, in motion. The edges were still bleeding, and yet forming scabs and healing at the same time. What had this man done? Adrian had to look away from his chest. Instead she looked up to his face. His lips and nose were clotted with dry blood. She brushed glossy black hair aside to reveal almond eyes. Elven… Taken by a sudden inspiration she went one step further and cleared the blood-wet hair away from his ears. They came to delicate points at the end. A dark elf…

The Nightson? Even Raistlin had said he was dead. No, no, she recalled. Raistlin had not said he was dead, he said he did not know what happened to Dalamar, only that Jenna was dead. Dear God, where were they?

"Ye Gods!" Milkweed continued with his tangent for a while until Adrian told him to shut up.

Dalamar opened his eyes, but closed them immediately. He couldn't even open them the whole way. Instead he reached up a hand and tried to remove the dry blood that collected there. Pain shot through his chest at the movement. He gasped and slumped back down. Then cool hands touched his forehead, soothing him.

"Nightson, what are we doing here? Do you not know?" A woman's voice the same as before. He choked trying to get an answer out, and ignore the pain that spread from his chest to his limbs.

"How could I? Maybe you should," He couldn't see the look of disdain that crossed the woman's face.

"You're in pain. Maybe you'll talk sense once you're healed. Milkweed," That must be the kender's name. "Milkweed do have any water in your pouches," Milkweed searched the various pouches that criss-crossed his back and waist. He twisted trying to get at the ones on his back. I knew I never should have put them there, he thought.

"I'll help you," Adrian came over and removed the leather bags from his back. Out of one of them tumbled a flask of water. Adrian tore a shred of it off her dress. If she could bring back the Nightson maybe she could get some answers. She popped it quickly in and out of the flask.

"Hey, that's my water!" Milkweed said reluctantly.

"Don't you think he needs it more than you?"

"Yes," Milkweed relented.

"Who is this, Milkweed?" Adrian wanted assurance.

"Hmmm, could be Raistlin. Raistlin was a wizard. My uncle Tass knew him personally," Adrian could see she wasn't going to get any answers by asking the over energetic kender, who had probably never even had an Uncle Tas. "Could it be Par-Salian? No he wore white robes, plus I think he's dead,"

"Milkweed? Milkweed," Too late. Milkweed was gone into his own little world.

"Not Ladonna, she was a girl. I think I've got it!" Adrian tuned him out completely.

"Adrian! Adrian," He tugged at her arm.

"Oh, please,"

"It's Dalamar! Very famous, master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas!"

"Whatever, Milkweed,"

"He's right actually," Dalamar made an effort to sit up. Adrian gave him a pushed from the back. And twisted him so that he was leaning against the invisible wall. She guided his hand so that he could grasp the cloth she had been using to clear his chest.

Water was a very good thing. It lessened the shooting pain in his body. Enough so that he could think without it hurting. He tried to sit up ignoring everything else except his efforts. Pain would not get in the way this attempt. He felt the girl give him a push upright and he leaned back up against the wall gasping and coughing. He felt her fingers around his wrist, then a wet cloth in his hand. He used to it clear his eyes, mouth, and nose.

The kender, Milkweed, hovered in front of his face. They were nose to nose for a few seconds in which Dalamar debated the best way to kill the pesky little thing. Then the kender was thrust away.

"Sorry about Milkweed, he's a little odd,"

"All kender are a little odd. And tell him to give me my belt knife back,"

"I said I was sorry," She glared at him. "Milkweed give the elf his knives back," He didn't have the energy or the initiative to glare back.

"I'm sorry Dalamar sir, aren't you glad I found them? I mean, if I hadn't been there to pick them up they would have gotten lost," Milkweed recited a typical kender excuse.

"I'm Adrian," The girl held out a slender hand. She was no older than eighteen. Her waist length hair was mussed and held up by a leather thong. It was a dark muddy brown color. She had olive skin and freckles crossed her face. She wore leggings underneath her dress. They were visible because her dress had been torn off to knee length. What was left hung in ragged folds. Her dark eyes searched Dalamar's for something. She held his gaze.

"Dalamar Nightson," He lifted her hand to his lips customarily. She jerked back.

"I have no desire to have any more of your blood on my hands,"

"I had forgotten. You were not hurt in the battle's were you?"

"No I was not," Milkweed interrupted.

"Hi, I'm Milkweed Dewhunter!" Dalamar nodded acknowledgement. He gazed at his surroundings. If the Chaos war had been won the gods were supposed to leave, along with Chaos. If it had been lost everything would be dead. As he was not dead Dalamar figured Chaos had something to do with why he was here. Chaos had promised him suffering.

"I thought it was Dewstalker," said Adrian.

"It is," replied Milkweed

Then voice startled him out of his revere. A voice he would never forget, yet it pained him to remember. Chaos.

"Who is that?" Adrian pulled one of Dalamar's daggers out of Milkweed's packs.

"Silence!" The voice boomed. Fear filled Adrian; she had heard this voice laugh before. Dalamar looked at her with bland amusement.

"He doesn't scare you?" She mouthed. He shook his head, no.

"Anyone who has been injured will be healed before I display you to my children. Then, only then, will you know what you are doing here," Chaos laughed maniacally. "No Nightson. You did not die," He addressed Dalamar directly. Adrian saw the dark elf's cheeks pale. "I promised you wouldn't and you didn't. Though that was a nice trick you pulled, blowing yourself and my minions up, and for that… There will be punishment,"

Adrian stared at Dalamar.

"You tried to kill yourself? That's suicide," she whispered.

"It was better than the alternative," He shrugged.

"And what was that?"

"Being stepped on,"

"So you blew your own chest open?" He did didn't he? He was to confused and distorted to figure out what he did to himself at the time. Kitiara… He blew her chest open too. He must have looked like that, bone showing through. Before Chaos began healing. His head hurt, he dropped it into his hands. Why couldn't he just die? He didn't want eternal torture, or whatever else Chaos had planned. Why should he even care about mortals anyway?

Thank you forever Deria for reviewing. Go us!!!!!