Dreams

Chapter 2: Equanimity

Raistlin screamed himself awake, writhing and shivering so violently that he fell off the bed. He landed on his back on the cold floor before he could regain any hint of composure, his bed sheets smothering him like the coils of a snake. He kicked them away in horror and frantically pushed the sleeves of his sleep robes up, to see if the horrid claw wounds were still there. His consciousness slowly came to him with the decelerating flow of his dry, wracking breaths and the assuring unblemished golden skin. "Just a dream," he murmured. "It was just a dream." Unnerved, Raistlin stood up, shaking slightly tousled white hair out of his eyes. Grabbing the Staff of Magius from the wall, the archmage muttered a few words of the spidery language of magic and was teleported to the laboratory. He chose one of the spellbooks bound in night blue off the wall of hundreds of books and sat in a soft chair by the window, the staff gleaming brightly at his side. "If I am to be robbed of my sleep," he whispered into the darkness outside the window, "then I shall find solace in study." Raistlin's study did not last long. His weariness overwhelmed him and sleep brushed it's manipulative fingers over tired eyes.

"You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see…

"Raist?" A worried voice resonated over the squeals of the demon children, the laughter of a gleeful goddess. "Raist!"

A strong hand shook the whimpering child urgently. The boy awoke, shivering, traces of unseen horror reflected in those pale blue eyes. A concerned face peered down at his. "You were screaming. Did you have another bad dream?"

Raistlin clutched at his twin, clutched at the familiarity of his honest face, his deep voice, his strong arm. Then, he began to sob uncontrollably, the memories of the very real dream burnt into his mind's eye. Caramon moved farther from his side of the bed to hold his brother, who buried his face in his brother's chest. The bigger twin rocked Raistlin gently and said soothingly, "It's okay, Raist. They can't get you now. I'll beat them up with my sword," Through his tears, the boy smiled at the thought of his brother waving his toy sword at the wraiths that plagued him. "You go back to sleep now, Raist. I'll stay awake and make sure they don't come back." Raistlin laid down at his brother's side, somewhat subdued. Caramon remained sitting, arms crossed and with a scowl on his face for the demons that dare try to come back. The smaller closed his eyes and saw the blackness attempt to return, but the light from his brother's silver sword drove them back. He knew he was safe now, Caramon was here. He smiled.

The midday sun glinted in through the window, dancing off the archmage's placid face. He stirred, and gradually became aware of the pang in his back from sleeping in a chair. Raistlin's hourglass shaped eyes opened slowly and glanced down at where he was and the spellbook of Fistandantilus that he was holding. The golden eyes narrowed. He could not remember anything that happened to him last night and did not know why he was in his laboratory instead of his bedchambers. Shrugging, figuring that he must have stayed up too late studying again, Raistlin Majere doused the staff and exited the laboratory.