A/N: I'm back! Apologies for the extended absence. My computer issues were more problematic than they seemed and I had to wrangle getting a replacement. I also had a small move across the city, and then there's been the Coronavirus making everything more problematic to get done and my son has been home and needing devices for online class work. I sincerely hope this finds all of you well and safe!

This chapter was initially only meant to be a little excerpt of seeing some stuff from Dalamar's side, and then following Rhuadhán for the remainder of his Test. But we haven't gotten much time with Dalamar so far, and inspiration was nudging to do a full "meanwhile... behind the scenes", so I did. I am not doing mega sized chapters, so it'll be the next chapter wrapping up Rhuadhán's Test with his ascent up Kangri Rinpoche and what happens when he comes face to face with the Master of the mountain. Enjoy, and please leave me some feedback. I'll be hard at work on the next chapter to help keep you folks entertained while I'm sure many of you are still stuck inside. Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter out by the weekend.

Chapter 5

One Golden Glimpse

The Mongolian wolves had spent most of the time the Priest of the Three was gone waiting in their little huddle in the shadows of the rocky alcove they were taking shelter in from the brutal winds at the top of the Drölma summit. Knowing Rhuadhán the way they did, Bilguun had tried to send Altankhüü to keep an eye on him in case he got himself in too deep and was too stubborn to ask for aid. Bilguun couldn't rightly refuse a direct order from the potential Ariunkhan to be left to his Test on his own, so he had called his canine companion back to them.

That having failed to give them a way to keep an eye on his Shalafi, Dalamar took up a spot in a nearby alcove for semi-privacy to track him, promising he'd inform them if anything was going wrong. Once assured the druids wouldn't see him using blatant Krynn magic, they assumed he'd be astral projecting or using similar magic common to this world, he pulled a crystal orb from one of his deel's pockets and murmured the incantation to scry on his shalafi's progress. And, as expected, his master steadily worked his way past one obstacle or other; some of which he just had to go and make for himself, like the extra trouble on the Dolma-La descent to Gauri Kund. Rhuadhán's mouth being what it was at times, that was the other reason the dark elf didn't want the wolves in hearing range of the divination.

Dalamar shook his head and sighed in frustration every time his Shalafi taunted the Master of Kangri Rinpoche. With the history between those two, he wasn't sure why he had bothered to hope Rhuadhán might keep his silence for just 13 hours. The deeply spiritual Mongolians would have been extremely displeased to hear the disrespectful challenges being issued along the way, they weren't privy to certain information about his Shalafi, so it was probably for the best Altankhüü had been sent away. Despite the petty jabs at the Master of Kangri Rinpoche, Rhuadhán was at least staying focused on his work and making good time around the mountain.

With his limited view of the area around his shalafi, Dalamar wasn't aware something might be amiss with the Test's proceedings until Chuluuküü called out a warning over the storm just starting to reach them that the massive Drölma Do was suddenly cracking apart. The other four leapt to their feet for a better look and watched as the cubic rock formation splintered into three rectangular pieces, and grey stone shifted to hues of black, white, or red as sleet beat down on them. And then those pieces cracked into seven blocks each, and the blocks rippled and became semi-incorporeal wolves.

In less than twenty seconds, Drölma Do had become the Drölma Wolves. Those guardian wolves were like flashes of light speeding down the west hand side of the mountain, heading straight into the heart of the storm.

Batzorig was the one to call over, "Khunbish!"

Dalamar gave a strained smirk at the tribal name that was even more accurate than the Mongolian wolves knew, mind quickly trying to calculate out what the mystical happening meant for his master's Test. "What is it, Batzorig?"

"Did Nominchono cross the Dakinis at some point this evening?!"

Dalamar cursed under his breath, then called back, "Yes! Parvati and two others tried to tempt him off his mission over by Gauri Kund!"

"Where is Nominchono now?" Mönkbold asked, features pulling with concern.

"Somewhere in the Lha-Chu Valley," Dalamar replied after taking a few seconds to scan what little could be seen within the raging storm inside his viewing crystal. He muttered to himself, "What I wouldn't give for a larger scrying surface right about now..."

Mönkbold began saying something to his father.

Dalamar called over, echoing the sentiment Batzorig was interrupting his son to give. "The Drölma wolves will protect him from whatever Parvati might be trying. Let them do their job so Nominchono isn't disqualified from claiming his rightful title of Ariunkhan. I'm going to keep watching to see if I can spot what is happening, but trust that The Mother's servants are capable of dealing with that treacherous spirit or Lord Shiva's servants."

Mönkbold gave a nod and then retook his seat next to Bilguun, who gave him a single pat on the shoulder and said something by his ear Dalamar couldn't make out over the storm.

The dark elf's gaze went back to the scrying crystal as he likewise went back to sitting, and could see his shalafi had stopped walking and seemed to be staring out into the storm around him to try spotting something. "I don't know what Parvati or Maj…"

Dalamar's words cut off as he saw his master suddenly stiffen, face going blank with shock at whatever he saw, and then he was darting off in a Time stream from something. Dalamar didn't get a chance to see what that something was because the distortion of that particular force around the subject of his scrying caused the crystal's connection to his Shalafi's whereabouts to break off.

"Merde…" Dalamar said with a frustrated sigh, shoving the crystal back into his pocket. He had studied three different variations of that divination spell to try keeping an eye on his Shalafi, but this was the third damn time he had manipulated Time and broken off the scrying. His spellbook was enchanted to withstand the elements, but it was going to take him a minute or so to recommit one of the spells to memory; and if his master was running from something in Time, there was no point in immediately trying to cast it again, as it would only fail. Hopefully his Shalafi could stay ahead of whatever was sent after him until the Drölma wolves could reach him.

The dark elf gave another sigh and shook his head as he rifled through his bag for his spellbook. "It's bad enough you cuckold and otherwise prickle at him every chance you get… Not that I can really blame you, but this isn't helping matters, Shalafi…" Dalamar pulled out the spellbook and started flipping through the pages. "I don't know what in the Abyss you're running from, but you better watch your footing..."

Dalamar had the spell recommited to mind quickly enough, but as his master hadn't sent up a flair for aid yet, nor were they receiving some sign from The Three that the wolves needed help protecting him, he delayed on casting the scrying. If his master was still in the midst of handling whatever trouble he had gotten himself into and utilizing his Time magic to do so, the scrying would simply fail to work and it'd be a wasted effort. The dark elf instead spent the next five minutes studying the alternate versions of the spell to keep his mind occupied as he waited.

When that five minutes had passed and the spells had been reimprinted on his mind, however, and the preternaturally swift Drölma wolves still hadn't returned, Dalamar began to become concerned that something might be even more amiss than initially feared. He murmured the words to the first spell as he gazed into the crystal.

Light and shadows shifted and swirled in the crystal, and then the image of Rhuadhán appeared. His master was no longer manipulating Time... And his master looked in a far more injured state than he had just minutes before. He was sprawled out on the rocky shelf of the moraine and it seemed he was covered shoulder to toe in various injuries, some parts of his skin looked near flayed off. But, whatever had happened, Dalamar could also see his master was alive, and some of the Drölma wolves were surrounding him and tending to his injuries.

And despite the extent of his injuries, the Master of Time was, of all things, laughing. Dalamar's confusion was minorly answered as he heard his Shalafi saying to the red wolf by his head, sounding exhausted and bordering delirious, "...Oh, bloody hell, mate. Let me tell you, even when you know death's not a permanent end for you and the pain is ultimately a passing thing, the potential of being rended in a flurry of teeth and claws attached to a thousand kilo Godzilla tiger is going to get the ticker pumping. That was hair raising to try keeping ahead of..."

...So that's what had been sent after him for the rebuff of Parvarti's attempted diversion from his mission. A giant tiger was certainly a new spin on an old trick. Added to the gigantic conjured viper that had been sicced on his Shalafi, that was the second trap via extraordinary animals that they hadn't foreseen happening...

Rhuadhán's laughter suddenly stopped and Dalamar heard him demand of the wolves, "Wait, are you woofers allowed to be here? Or am I disqualified for your presence that wasn't by personally summoning or conjuring you and getting the first aid treatment?! I want the record to show I only requested inspiration, I did not ask for the rescue!"

Dalamar gave an incredulous snort of laughter at that. He didn't expect a different attitude from his Shalafi, even when he was apparently in over his head, but the Master of Magic's obstinency really knew no bounds sometimes. He didn't have the same worry over the impact of this incident on Rhuadhán's test, as clearly this was some sort of petty retribution and The Three's wolves were more than allowed to protect petitioners being unfairly targeted.

While the wolves were patching his master up with what healing magic they were capable of channeling, Dalamar was doing his best to calculate out just where his master was in Lha-Chu Valley and how much distance was left for him to cover. Those calculations were promising, provided Rhuadhán was able to get back on his feet and get moving again in the relatively near future. His training with the Rams and Wolves had adequately prepared him for the hike itself and he was making excellent time around the mountain. Unless the Master of Kangri Rinpoche pulled three or four more delaying stunts like this, Rhuadhán would likely be back up here with a couple hours to spare and be able to take a brief rest before attempting the spell to ascend the mountain. When asked, he passed along to the Mongolian wolves that he was able to catch sight of Nominchono again and that the Drölma wolves had reached him in time to protect him.

Eventually, the Drölma wolves had done what they could for the Master of Magic's injuries, and Rhuadhán managed to find his feet again. Dalamar watched him retrieve and talk to his new staff, and then gave an exasperated sigh as his master yet again shouted a challenge up at his opponent. "You prideful idiot... You've only got the barest of supplies and defensive spells prepared for tonight. Keep challenging him like that and you're going to end up with him siccing everything prowling these mountains on you. You're going to be hard pressed to defend yourself, wolves or no. Save the damned gloating for once you've ascended."

The dark elf shook his head again, and he watched in silence as his master continued his trek up the khora. The Drölma wolves returned to the summit just as Rhuadhán was resuming his own hike along the path.

By the time Rhuadhán reached Dirapuk Monastery and was murmuring to himself about his journey having been too quiet, Dalamar was thinking much the same to himself. He could feel his anxiousness growing as his Shalafi drew ever nearer to Shiva-Tsal, cataloging in his mind everything they knew about that entrance to the Underworld and the spirits local to it, and what his master had on hand to deal with such obstacles, trying to reassure himself that they had prepared for every known contingency. Those reassurances felt somewhat hollow, though, given the unexpected surprises so far.

Rhuadhán ended up noticing a magical presence within the river as he went to get a sip and, after failing to secure other means of getting a drink, continued on his way up the khora. While his master was limping along and scanning in front of himself for signs of danger, Dalamar was able to just make out, for the span of a second or two at a time, the hydrous form of a small water elemental shifting in the river behind. The creature shadowed his master's progress, but it couldn't leave the river and Rhuadhán was keeping enough distance from the edge that the creature didn't gain an opening to try grabbing him from behind.

Then Rhuadhán reached the bridge that lead into the Valley of the Dead. And, yet again, Dalamar's scrying spell was broken as his Shalafi tapped into Time and made a limping dash over the bridge.

Dalamar gave an irritated groan and glared at the now dormant crystal. "This is becoming absolutely tedious... Damn his Time manipulation and its effects on divinations... I wish I knew the mechanics of how in the Abyss he does that..."

Dalamar was currently, by his consciousness's state of reckoning, nearing eighteen thousand years of age, unbroken by death and the accompanying setbacks it entailed. When he had taken over his master's Tower, he had studied the spell books and notes of both Raistlin and Fistandantilius. He had expanded on both the latter's studies on necromancy and the former's on the nature of life and its preservation or creation, and managed to create his owns means of an unaging existence. That accomplishment had granted him seventeen and a half millennia of existence being spent in Krynn, mastering what offerings of magic it had that he was capable of understanding as civilizations ebbed and flowed with different ages of magical exploration.

And then, when Krynn had had absolutely nothing left to offer him and he was becoming utterly bored and frustrated with his existence, wondering if immortality had really been such a great idea; Nuitari had brought him to this world, and some precisely unknown number of ages forward in time. This fascinating world with all sorts of intriguing little offshoots of nature magics and wild magic. And, most pleasingly, a wonderful lack of squabbling mages with lifespans as fleeting as flies in comparison to his own, who inevitably made some foolish attempt to try dragging him into their petty politics for one reason or other. He had spent almost 500 years doing as he liked without anyone knowing who he was and what he was capable of; partaking in new entertainments as the people of this world thought them up if they struck his fancy, exploring the new magics and experimenting without being bothered.

Next to the Master of Magic, Dalamar could assure himself that he was the most powerful Archmage to ever exist, and he had been thoroughly enjoying his retirement...

But then relatively recent events had happened, and certain matters had been brought to his attention. His retirement, and his contentment with his accomplishments, had been brought to an abrupt end. And now he was stuck doing what he could to deal with that intrusion, and hopefully remedy certain deficiencies in his magical capabilities.

Deficiencies that were all too apparent these days because even with almost eighteen thousand years of existence, and all his magical proficiency over so many branches of magic garnered over that time, and spending the last three years observing firsthand his Shalafi's little episodes of bending Time- he still couldn't puzzle out even the basics of how his master was managing to interweave his magic and coax that tempestuous force into doing his bidding.

Despite his semi-incapacitated state from damages he had done to his soul in past lives, despite the current temporary limitations from having so recently reincarnated, Rhuadhán could still casually manipulate Time the way the dark elf casually cast lesser spells. And the Master of Magic didn't even need to study spells to do so! He had to study old traditional spells the same as any mage, but for this type of magic he had crafted, he had found some loophole or some technique that allowed him to work his magic without the normal limitations imposed on mages applying. He stepped into the streams on a seeming whim or as need arose. It tired his body to do so for long periods of time, certainly; but he could do so without study in this lifetime to refresh his memory of past knowledge on Time, intuitively just knowing how it all worked, and doing it as many times a day as he wanted, without warning he was about to do so, until his body reached its limits and he had to get some rest in.

It was absolutely maddening how simple the Master of Magic made it look. And it was maddening how effective his Time magic was at disrupting other types of magic, like these divinations. Granted, at the moment, his Shalafi wasn't trying to evade his guardians' abilities to track him down, it was just a side effect of him trying to slip past dangers of this Test. But the fact that he could do it so casually, that he could break even complex divinations cast by an Archmage of the dark elf's tier without even meaning to as an after effect of his Time magic...

It was a bitter pill for Dalamar to swallow. A reminder of just how far his solitary studies had managed to get him, but how lacking they were in certain respects. How lacking his personal capacity was in certain respects. Even if, when his Shalafi was restored, Raistlin deemed Dalamar had rendered enough faithful services to be taught some of that magic, Dalamar knew that there was a veritable chasm of difference between their magical capacities. He'd eagerly learn what he could, and practice it to become as adept as possible, but he knew he'd never come close to being that proficient at wielding Time magic and certain other specialties of his master. After all these millennia of studies, he had nearly reached the maximum of his potential, and he wasn't going to be able to break past it.

Try as he might, there was only one Master of Magic, and that wasn't himself. His Shalafi would always hold that highest accolade, and claim all the privileges that came with it.

Dalamar heaved a sigh at that depressing thought, pulling out a pinch of an herbal mix that was needed to cast one of the alternate divinations. Unless the water elemental had somehow managed to make a successful grab for Rhuadhán as he went over the bridge, which was highly unlikely given the average speed of those creatures due to their aqueous natures, his Shalafi had undoubtedly passed beyond the zone of threat offered by the river and stepped out of Time by now. It should be safe to cast the new divination and see how his master was approaching his travels through the Valley of the Dead.

The words Dalamar was about to speak were interrupted by another's, glacial and quiet, unfamiliar, coming from directly behind him. "Save your magic, dark elf; your master isn't in need of your services at this moment."

Dalamar spun around to face whoever had sneaked up on him, momentarily surprised by their capability to do so. A magical barrier that was not of his making rippled immediately around them as a void gaze met his, and all he could see in the narrow space within the alcove of rocks was shadow. Dalamar had never met this entity, but he knew who it was just the same, and he took a reactive, cautionary step back to put some distance between them as he said, "Lord Yama." His gaze stayed on the entity, but his magic carefully extended out to get a sense of the magic surrounding himself. The initial impression of the magical reverberations was some sort of sensory barrier; and then a few seconds later he had it puzzled out that the quasi-god had put up a complex illusion to keep the Mongolian wolves from knowing they suddenly had company.

There was an unnerving chuckle from the mass of shadows as Dalamar finished his cursory examination of the magical barrier, a chuckle that caused the fine hairs on the dark elf's arms to stand on end. "Well, it seems we can skip over the introductions as you know who I am, and I obviously know who you are..."

"Why are you here?" Dalamar asked. "You should be within Shiva-Tsal."

"Hm... Yes..." the Lord of the Underworld agreed, and there were flashes of pearly teeth amidst the shadows as he spoke. "Most nights, that is where I am. But tonight is obviously not most nights, as we find ourselves with distinguished guests visiting Kangri Rinpoche."

"If you're here to interfere with my master's attempt to ascend the mountain..."

Dalamar's warning was cut off. "You'd do what, dark elf?" Sardonic chuckles resumed, and then the quasi-god said, unconcerned, almost conversationally, "As it happens, I've only come up this way to inform you that your master injured his current vessel's workings a little more than he realized while trying to avoid Lord Shiva's enchanted tigers. The pain of a few broken ribs and the lingering effects of Gauri Kund were masking the pain of slow but persistent internal bleeding he's suffering from. I could sense that if he continued on at the pace he's been pushing himself, I'd quite likely be seeing my old friend in my halls in a way he was not meaning to be visiting tonight. I've insisted quite unarguably that he takes a rest, and that will allow his magic to concentrate on making the necessary repairs to those tears before they can grow any larger or he exhausts his reserves to the point where he won't be able to heal himself. When he awakens, which I judge to be safe to do in about half an hour, I will be personally escorting him along the Valley of the Dead so that he's assured to make it to at least Shiva-Tsal without further unsporting interference. Knowing Majikahla, once he's completed the Test at Shiva-Tsal, he's going to be making his way to rejoin you swiftly enough and you can see to your master's welfare when he arrives."

"You expect me to believe that you're extending such benevolent aid, with no tricks attached, and not keep watch myself?" Dalamar asked incredulously. "How foolish do you think me to be?"

"Answering that question properly would take most of the evening," the Lord of the Underworld said without attempt to hide the mockery he felt the question deserved. "Be that as it may, you'll view or not as you like. I'm simply informing you that it's not necessary to extend your magic in such fashion as your master is safe, and may need your magic for other purposes once he rejoins you."

"You'll excuse me, I'm sure, if I choose to verify that myself," Dalamar said dryly.

"As I said, you'll do as you like... But you should know, dark elf, that even if your master was in need of assistance, there's nothing you'd be able to do to help him until he finishes the khora and returns to you."

Dalamar held back a laugh of his own. "We'll see about that, should need arise."

The voice in the shadows replied stoically, "Arrogant you may be, dark elf, but you're not ignorant. I know you must have felt quite uncomfortable when you were coaching your master before he started his Test and you were standing so near the khora's boundaries."

Dalamar said dismissively, "It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but I'm used to certain sites being less than hospitable to one like myself. It wouldn't be the first time I've put myself through tolerating the abrasive nature of such places for my Shalafi's sake."

"You've never stepped foot on a site quite like this, dark elf. This isn't some petty temple that relies on imperfect mortal clerics channeling divine magic to protect it and the faithful that enter to seek guidance from the divine. Kangri Rinpoche is a holy place of the highest magnitude, guarding entrances to both my Realm and the Realm of the Gods. Every aspect of its construction and existence was crafted by The Three to magnify the sanctification magic and ensure those gateways' protection, and then Lord Shiva has personally laid down His own brand of protective wards on this mountain when He took up residence here to aid Them in Their fight against Kali. One such as you, who has so thoroughly pulled his current state of existence outside any reckoning of the natural orders, is incapable of stepping onto or past the sacred khora. Your motivations for attempting to do so won't matter should you try, and the favor you hold from your master or The Three won't protect you from the ancient magics lying dormant here. If you were to step within the bounds of this sacred place, or try to magic your way in, you will find yourself in the most eternally unpleasant of situations for attempting to bring your aberrant nature within. I give you warning because you are Majikahla's prized apprentice, even if he's currently not in full remembrance of his regard for you over the ages, and I don't wish to have to explain to my old friend what's become of you. I cannot force you to heed my warning, but you disregard it at your own peril."

Dalamar was silent for several seconds as he waited for the almost tangible sting of metaphorical salt being rubbed into fresh wounds to pass. Whether it was truly impossible for him to step foot within the boundaries of Kangri Rinpoche, or merely something that would be extraordinarily difficult and test the full strength of his will, it was another thing that his master could do with an ease that baffled the dark elf. He might be living an immortal existence outside what was "natural" for an elf, but his Shalafi was actively seeking to elevate above the existence he had been born to. And he might be a dark elf because he was especially fond of Nuitari's brand of magic, but his list of people he had tortured or murdered was minuscule compared to his master's. Yet, for some insane cosmic reason, Raistlin was able to traipse around the khora with almost the same ease as he trekked the Mongolian steppes, while Dalamar had indeed felt the holy magic trying to repel him off when he came within fifty feet of the boundary. It was maddening just how much he clearly had left to learn from his Shalafi.

When he was certain of his mental discipline, Dalamar said curtly, "Unless you have anything of import to say, perhaps you should see to your duties, Lord Yama. You've been lax of late and we wouldn't want another slip up to happen."

The quasi-god's voice was glacial as he said in rebuke, "You tread on precarious ground, dark elf. If you had done your duties properly when you had the honor of that responsibility, Kali would not have been released and the Deceiver would not have had her aid in infiltrating my Realm to retrieve her servants."

A few short words of Sihir flew from the dark elf's lips as he made a swift gesture, and discordant anti-magic flashed out from one of his fingers like a bolt of crackling lightning. The quasi-god's shadowy form shifted as he raised his own magic to try blocking the attack, but the barrier was shattered before it could properly form and the discordant magic pierced through the shadows. A snarl of pain rippled out behind sharp teeth and bits of living shadow wavered out from the rest of the mass where the magic had hit, and then disappeared, like a mortal's blood leaking out into a river and being swept away. Void gaze narrowed on the dark elf, who now had an amulet in his other hand as the anti-magic crackled around the other three fingers of the first.

Dalamar's voice was just as frigid as he warned, "I've spent my entire existence treading precarious grounds, Yama, and you'd do well to remember you're not currently on holy ground. You may be counted as a god because you're one of my patron's special projects, but your power is limited to those He deemed necessary to fulfill your purpose for existence and is diminished when outside the Realm He's tied you to. My magic has no such narrow confines to it, and I've existed nearly twice as long as you have and perfected my arts. Unless you wish to join the list of divine constructs I've torn out of existence, giving Nuitari the opening to make a better Warden of the Dead now that he knows where your weaknesses in creation lie, you'll return to the boundaries of your domain and hold your tongue on whatever you may know of the Time that will never be."

A growl rippled out from the shadows at a frequency that even elven ears couldn't hear, only felt as a reverberation on the air. The shadowy form began to fade from sight, retreating back to a safer plane of existence, but the glacial voice warned quietly, "You might be one of my Father's highest favored, Dalamar; but someday, one way or other, your soul is going to find its way into my Realm. We'll see how confident you are in the superiority of your gifts from Him when the tables are reversed and you're in a place where your magic is dampened and it is my magic that is unfettered."

"Save your impotent threats for the weak willed and less talented. I've faced down beings far more terrifying than you on their native planes of existence, beings that had existed since the first age of creation; and yet here I still stand, while not even their names have escaped being cast into oblivion."

Laughter echoed from the shadows, previous reflections of pain absent from the sound, replaced by seemingly assured and malicious humor. "That might be your running record, but the universe always creates counterbalances for those that disrupt natural order. Even if you can cause me pain because my existence is still young, I know you can't destroy me like you have others of my nature. Your existence might stretch for some millennia more if the Destroyer's plans are diverted, but my existence will be counted by the eons. I will exist until the end of creation, unless Majikahla, The Three, or one of the Primordials end me. I can wait as long as it takes for your mortal soul to be delivered to me. And make no mistake, no matter what magic you have that you think cheats Death, all mortal souls eventually find their way into the afterlife, and all the souls that belong to The Three come to my halls. You will eventually kneel before my throne, dark elf, and when that day finally comes, I'm going to weigh your soul. And given that the sacred Khora rejects you so soundly, I know how that verdict will officially fall. I'm going to enjoy passing judgment for your actions throughout this aberrant existence of yours, and making you pay for that strike you dealt me."

And with that, the Lord of the Underworld's presence vanished entirely, and the illusory barrier he had created dissipated.

Dalamar gave an irritated huff and glared at the empty space as he returned the amulet to its hidden pocket. The scrying crystal was pulled from its pocket once more, and he used a sprinkle of different flowers than the ones he initially meant to use, saying the words for the more powerful of his two remaining memorized divinations in case that damn quasi-god attempted to block his magic. He didn't feel any resistance to his spellcasting, and moments later the crystal was active.

He could see Rhuadhán's form lying prone on the ground, staff lying helter skelter next to him. His Shalafi was clearly unconscious, but he looked like he had dropped there, not gone to sleep. Dark eyes narrowed further, wondering just what had happened. Dalamar muttered a few words of magic, sending out the spell towards his master through the connection created by the divination. The diagnostic magic blanketed Rhuadhán evenly, and then began to shift and pulse, pulled towards where there were injuries or unnatural flows of magic. Within seconds, the magic was congregating in four particular places.

A pale green glow was coming from his master's feet, indicating some non life-threatening injuries were there, which was to be expected with the abuse they had been put through in trekking without footwear around the mountain. That light wasn't even dark enough to indicate the injuries had a risk of being crippling, especially given their nature. There was, however, the pair of lights to be seen in his master's torso, overlapping one another. One outlined a pair of cracked ribs with a darker, sickly green light. More worrisome, there was a rusty red light beneath, showing where blood was flowing but shouldn't be, and those weren't precisely small amounts pooled up. It might not be life threatening blood loss if his master's magic did start reactively repairing the damage, but Dalamar wasn't sure if that would actually happen because his master's healing capabilities weren't the least consistent right now.

And there was something else wrong with his master, something the quasi-god had failed to mention. There was an almost mustard yellow glow forming around Rhuadhán's eyes. That wasn't the shade of magic that would indicate one of his Shalafi's beneficial spells, like the one to see in the dark, was still somehow active despite his unconsciousness. That was distinctly the color that alerted of a curse being in place. Who had cursed his master, and what sort of curse had been placed on him?

As Dalamar consciously processed what his magical readout was telling him and debated what responses might be appropriate, he kept careful watch on the magical readings. Worrying as those things were, none of those readings were immediately life threatening. Unless his master had been struck blind with the curse, and unfortunately determining the precise nature of the curse wasn't something Dalamar could deduce from a distance and through a divination, there was still a chance that even in his current state of ill health, Rhuadhán might be able to regain consciousness and finish his journey around the khora in time. If there was a chance of completing this Test, no matter how remote the chances might fall to as more incidents kept happening, he knew that a preemptive intervention that robbed his master of that chance would put him squarely in the path of his master's wrath once recovered. If his master remained unconscious up until dawn, or dangerous wild animals or stray spirits appeared to attack him while incapacitated, or his master woke up and it became apparent that he had been struck blind and stood no chance of navigating the khora, then Dalamar knew he'd have no choice but to retrieve him.

At that point, his master would just have to accept that this first attempt had failed and they'd have to wait until next autumn when there was the right combination of weather, seasonal, and magical correspondents to make this ascent possible. Rhuadhán wouldn't like it, and it would be frustrating to have a delay in obtaining the Vajra and being able to figure out what secrets the artifact held. However, there'd be little to be done about it except to prepare all the more for the trek with the firsthand knowledge they now had, and be grateful Rhuadhán had at least already secured the staff this go around and so it was one less thing that'd need to be worried about on a second attempt.

Even if there was the possibility of a second chance, Dalamar was still hoping that Rhuadhán woke up soon and hadn't been struck blind. Not just because of the temper his master would be in if this failed. Nor because trying to counter curses that caused blindness were tricky and delicate spellworkings for mages or priestesses of this world alike. It was in significant part due to the fact that even if there was a possibility for a second chance at this, that was still a year of wasted time to wait for it. They knew their enemies weren't wasting time to gather resources and amass forces to throw into battle. Their enemies' influences were starting to pop up more frequently, and with a disturbing lack of clarity on how precisely they were spreading some of those influences. They judged that they were still some few years off from their enemies attempting full, undeniable and open, warfare to accomplish their aims; but all patterns they were tracking pointed to it being about the time when it would be wise to undertake preparatory tasks with what forces they might have- training skirmishes to test their battle readiness; or small strikes to obtain specific coveted resources that would help in the larger battles, but weren't so pivotal that it would draw wide spread notice and blow their secrecy before they were ready.

As seconds became minutes, the dark elf noticed the magical readings subtly shifting. The rusty light stopped expanding and was now beginning to shrink, as though the misplaced blood it was tracking was absorbing back into his master.

The Master of Time's magic was reacting as hoped now that it wasn't being consciously directed to other uses, working innately to turn back his body's inner reckoning of Time and injuries done to it, reversing the damage.

Dalamar breathed a sigh of relief. His Shalafi would be fine in short order. Providing the quasi-god spoke true when he said he was going to be returning to Rhuadhán's side and giving him an escort to Shiva-Tsal, and hoping that his master hadn't been struck blind by whatever curse was inflicted on him, this Test was still possible to be completed.

Dalamar settled back against a boulder in wait for his Shalafi to awaken. When asked for an update by Batzorig, he simply called back that Nominchono was still within the Valley of the Dead. Knowing Rhuadhán's pride, his master would be annoyed with him if he revealed the extent of injuries without pressing cause to.

Nearly half an hour after having entered the Valley of the Dead, and the magical readout showing that the blood loss had been completely reversed and those internal wounds healed, Dalamar saw his master stirring, heard his awakening groans.

Rhuadhán flipped onto his back and his eyes opened, staring straight up and almost directly at Dalamar from the vantage point of the crystal's viewing.

Through the crystal, Dalamar saw something he hadn't seen in nearly eighteen thousand years. Something that turned his blood to ice with the instinctual dread it inspired. Something that caused his concentration on his divination to falter and the magical connection broke, causing the crystal to become mercifully dark and inert.

The eyes that had opened hadn't been the sapphire blue of Rhuadhán Daye.

They had been golden with hourglass pupils.

Those had been Raistlin Majere's cursed eyes.

Eyes that saw nothing but death and decay. Eyes that almost never reflected a hint of the bearer's thoughts, even as they seemed to pierce through those being viewed, stripping back every layer of their being and uncovering their soul's deepest, darkest fears and secrets. Eyes that had stared down Death Knights that attempted to enter his Tower uninvited and made them stop their advance out of fear of the owner. Eyes that had coolly regarded demons that had been summoned into circles to do the Master of the Tower's bidding, as his new apprentice could only watch in silent terror, frozen in place by the creatures' unholy auras.

Golden eyes that had, for perhaps a moment, glinted with a hint of disappointed rebuke, as five long fingers had pressed to that young apprentice's chest and seared five wounds into his flesh.

Five wounds that, even eighteen thousand years later and every counter-curse he had uncovered or developed being cast, were still, perpetually, eternally, blistered and oozing on his pale chest. Five wounds that still ached faintly with every brush of fabric against them, that he had over time become accustomed to bearing, but could never forget. Five wounds that served as a reminder of the price of betrayal, and had been a "mercy" punishment because he had otherwise served his master as demanded. Five lingering cursed wounds that served as a reminder that even with as powerful of an Archmage as he had become over his eighteen thousand years, his Shalafi at a mere 28 years of age in his first incarnation had been even more powerful, and that Time did not diminish the potency of his magic.

Dalamar stared at the inactive crystal in shock as his free hand reactively went to the front of his deel, almost as though warding his chest from another such injury. His head shook in disbelief and he whispered into the night air, speaking in Sihir, "I don't know what game you're playing at, Majere... but the last thing you should be doing is antagonizing him in that way. Yama wasn't in existence the last time my master bore that curse, but I was, and so were you, and you should know better. We are trying to avert certain histories from repeating and create a new future, but he'll gleefully destroy the whole lot of you if you don't reverse that curse, immediately. Don't be a fool just because he ruffled your pride."

The dark elf got no reply, directly or through magic.

Dalamar shook his head again, dread twisting and coiling tightly in the pit of his stomach, and put the crystal back into its pocket. He should be keeping an eye on his Shalafi. But the thought of seeing those cursed golden eyes again... The thought of seeing whatever Rhuadhán's reaction might be when he realized he was cursed... Dalamar decided he'd wait like the wolves were. Either his Shalafi was about to go on a rampage, which they'd undoubtedly see signs of from even here, and he might be powerless to stop; or Rhuadhán would keep it together and come up the khora at some point, hopefully with the Feather of Ma'at also obtained and that cursed gaze would be focused on completing the ritual of ascension.

Dalamar's arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he felt that ancient, instinctual dread rear up and taking such deep hold and he tried to regain his mental discipline. He had always known who Rhuadhán really was, guise of a modern young man of this world being worn or not, but the abrupt and undeniable reminder that the youth who was in turns carefree and curious or capricious and ruthless was indeed his Shalafi of old had shaken him.

It took far longer than the dark elf would ever admit for him to push back the fear those eyes inspired and remind himself that, golden eyes or sapphire, on Krynn or on Earth, he had sworn his allegiance and loyalty to his Shalafi as the price of being taught the secrets of magic by the greatest Archmage to ever live, and his master had fulfilled his side of the bargain beyond what Dalamar had thought was possible in his newly Tested youth.

Dealing with Raistlin Majere again, even were he at his most terrifying, was worth it for whatever new magic he would eventually learn.