Disclaimer: I do not own DRAGONLANCE nor do I own any of Weis's and Hickman's characters, I'm not geniuses like them, despite my fantasies.

This story takes place in the Soulforge: Raist and Caramon are six, Raist takes magic lessons from Theobald, and Kit–who is fourteen–hasn't started serious traveling. The three get caught in a complex web of magic, Takhisis, a strange and stupid city, blah blah, just read it!

Note: yes, I've read Brothers Majere and you'll find that Hanilakin is a lot like Mereklar. And, yes, I've also read Dark Heart, some stuff appears from there, too.

Oh, and the Xs stand for where there are swears, my mother has a habit of reading over my shoulders, don't wanna get gorunded. You understand.

Chapter Three

The Necklace in Action

A heavy weight fell on Raistlin, pinning him to the ground. A 'ooph' from Caramon told him the same thing had happened to his twin.

Raistlin twisted around to see his attacker–a burly boy of about fifteen, with ham-sized fist,large pink face, small, squinty piggy eyes, and a lot of round brown freckles that stood out on his pinky face. Oh, no. Them.

"Lemme go, Speckleface."He snapped, recognizing Bronk Wister, the son of the local tanner and one of Kitiara's teasers–before she quite literally kicked his XXX. Though Raistlin tied to sound cool and calm, his voice shook ever so slightly.

"Aww, is ou lil' boy cry-ying." Dune, Bronk's little brother, leered in a high, whiny voice.

"Let him go!" Caramon, from under Dune, half-dug into the ground.

"Aww, look, Caramon's sticking up for his baby brother!" Bronk jeered mocking.Reaching out, he caught a strand of Raistlin's brown hair and yanked it–hard.Raistlin cried out, in spite of himself.

"He's not my baby brother, you damisch idiot!" Caramon snarled, angry that the bullies would dare hurt his twin.

Raistlin would have said more or less that, had his face not just been shoved into the sand.

Both he and Caramon were tied down while Dune and Bronk happily shifted through their possessions.

"Aw! Lookit this!" Dune, rifling in Caramon's pockets, pulled out a copper coin. Gloating, he handed it to Bronk, and the two sneered at the twins. Raistlin, twisting himself around, winced as the roped scraped his arms as he curled himself in a position so he could hear and see all. By wiggling his arm, he managed to slip his hand into his pocket and clutch the strange stone on the necklace.

Bronk, having finished with Caramon, turned and leered at the helpless boy. "Time to see if the squirt has anything good." He guffawed rudely. Bending over, he breathed directly in Raistlin face. Raistlin grimaced, squirming away from the fat boy's touch. "Touch me and you will regret it." He hissed.

Bronk drew back, slightly surprised. So was Raistlin, for that matter. Though the words had raced through his brain on numerous occasions, he hadn't planned on voicing them. He knew very well that Bronk could beat the shXt out of him, and he needed his body tomorrow. The words had just slipped out. But, more than the words, was the tone that surprised Raistlin. The tone held true threat, true menace, and true hate. The stone beneath his grip grew slightly warmer.

But Bronk recovered swiftly. "Oh, you are, ain'tcha? How wunderbar." His eyes traveled from Raistlin's face to his arm–and hand. Too late Raistlin saw his mistake, and he cursed his own stupidity. He hadn't meant to call attention to the necklace. Just the opposite.

"Oh, what've we got here?" Grasping Raistlin's arm, he tugged it roughly out of the pocket, and started slightly as his small eyes caught sight of the fine silver chain. "A neckie, isn't it? Well, why should a poor bad baby boy like you"–he sneered the word scornfully, sending bolts of white-hot angry through Raistlin's small body–"have a fine'n'fancy neckie when a honest, hard-working lad like me doesn't. Ain't fair, I say. You must've stole it from a fancy rich lady. Well, I'ma gonna 'give it back to her', if ya know what I mean." Bronk's grinned greedily at Raistlin, showing of his chipped yellow teeth and awful breath, nearly gagging him. "In fact, that's what I'm gonna tell my Pa. 'Raisty Majere, that bad baby boy, stole some fancy Frau's necklace and I got it back for her. Well, what can you expect, the mama being crazy and all?" The last remark was directed at Dune.

"Looks like it runs in the family!" Dune chimed in harshly. "Eh, Baby Boy? You crazy like your mama? I bet you are, insan'ty 'runs in th' blood', that's what my Mama says."

Fury, fury at the injustice and simple hate for the rough, greedy bullies clashed together to spark a terrible fire that burned within Raistlin, turning the brown eyes cold and hard. "It's mine." He hissed, barely above a whisper. "I found it." Like they'd care, he thought bitterly.

He was right.

"Yeah, right!" Dune squealed. "And now its ours!" Bronk grabbed Raistlin's wrist, forcing the small fingers off the stone. Raistlin watched in agony, helpless as the precious necklace fell, once again, to rest on the sand. Bronk grabbed it and spun it in front of Raistlin's face, laughing cruelly. Caramon, watching, clenched his fists and bared his teeth.

Then the stone began to glow.

It was a blue glow, as sapphire as the jewel at the center of the stone. They all watched as the glow spread up the chain, creeping. Raistlin, the nearest, could feel a burning chill emitting from the glow.

Bronk and Dune watched in terror, Caramon amazement, and Raistlin with an odd sense of vindictive excitement and foreboding.

The light went up–it was becoming brighter–and up–you couldn't see the chain through the glow–and up–Bronk was breaking out in a severe sweat now–and up–it was nearing his hand– and up–Raistlin watched, the feeling of foreboding growing steadily larger–and up–it was almost touching Bronk's grasping hand–and . . !

The light made contact with Bronk's fingers.

"OWWWW!" Screamed Bronk, waving his hand wildly in the air. Frantically he tried to pull his fingers away from the light, straining with all his beefy strength. "OHHH . . . " He cried as the light engulfed his entire hand.

Bronk began to dance around, shaking his hand hopelessly, frantically. Dune cowed back in fear, whimpering slightly. Caramon's face was all shock, his mouth agape. Raistlin could not help feeling triumphant, though her had no idea why.

Suddenly, it stopped.

Raistlin watched, as if in a dream, as the terrible, beautiful necklace fell from Bronk's empty fingers, fingers that were now white and limp. He watched it hit the ground. He watched the terror on Bronk's and Dune's faces. He stood up, crawling to his feet, noticing as he did so that the ropes binding him and Caramon were gone, burned away if the ashes on their clothes proved true.

He bent down to pick the necklace up . . .

Bronk screamed and ran away as fast as his fat piggy legs could, Dune nearly tripping over his brother's feet. Caramon cried out, scrambling to his feet in an effort to stop Raistlin from reaching the dangerous necklace.

Raistlin payed attention to none of this, though. All the little boy's attention was on the necklace in the sand. His small, slender fingers curled around the stone, and as they did so a feeling both familiar and foreign raced through his fingers, tingling around his wrist and sliding up his arm. It was both cold and hot, pleasurable and painful. Raistlin had the feeling that, once again, something about the stone just wasn't right . . .

"Put that down, Raist! It's dangerous!" Caramon, ever worried, ran up to his twin, regarding the necklace with open hostility.

"No." Raistlin said, quietly yet firmly. "It won't harm me, Caramon." Even as he spoke the words, wondering why he had just told Caramon something that he had no idea was true, he just knew it was true. A shudder of icy fear, laced with an intoxicating excitement, raced through his veins.

"How do you know?"

"I–I know, Caramon, let that be enough for you!" The feeling of fear and excitement had vanished, leaving him feeling irritated and–what? Disappointed? Raistlin shook his head scornfully at himself. What had he expected the stone to be–a magic amulet? It was a stone–nothing more, nothing less.

"It's just a stone, my brother. Nothing more, nothing less." He said over his shoulder to Caramon as he began to walk away rather quickly, making Caramon hurry to catch up.

"You sure?" Caramon still eyed the necklace distrustfully.

"Yes, I'm sure! Now c'mon, lets go!"

"OK, Raist." Caramon replied cheerfully, undaunted by his brother's sharp words. Picking up a stick, he made a few ridiculous passes with it in the air, nearly smacking Raistlin in the process.

"Watch it!" Raistlin snapped, ducking to avoid his brother's stick.

"Sorry." Caramon lowered his stick a little, then dg it into the ground, watching it trail in the dust behind him. "Can't wait to tell Kit 'bout that weird stone-thingy."

Raistlin stiffened, then turned, wheeling around so fast that Caramon froze. "You will not tell Kit about this, nor will you tell anyone! Ever!"

"Aw, but–"

"No one." Raistlin replied softly, staring at Caramon intently.

"OK, OK." Caramon, a little miffed at his twin's viper tongue, ducked his head. "Why?" he asked suddenly.

"Because–" Raistlin didn't know why. Why should he not tell Kit about his find? Maybe it was his imagination, but he could fell the weight of the stone quite distinctly in his pocket. "Because, my brother, it's–a secret. Maybe I'll give it to Kit to sell someday. Maybe I'll cut it open to see if there's a ghost inside. And besides, Kit might take it. So don't tell."

"OK, Raist." Caramon, his mind clear, skipped ahead to pounce on dandelions and scare a disgruntled squirrel.

Raistlin was silent. Looking down, he could see the necklace through the top of his pocket. Maybe it was his imagination, but as he reached in a finger to stroke it wonderingly he had the odd feeling that the stone was pleased.

And, in the very back of his mind, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could hear the sound of dark, sultry, triumphant laughter.

Reviews, as always, are welcome.

Danke for previous readers & reviewers.