Decisions

The resurrection of a corpse was virtually impossible for the average mage, no matter how impressive his abilities or how newly dead his subject was.

Roltan sat attentively at one end of the long table, writing down every word that his mages uttered on a paper tablet.

"Tika and Caramon should be first, they've been buried the least amount of time." Dalamar was saying.

"And we ought to find Kitiara."

"Ah...yes, definitely, Shalafi."

"Tanis?"

"I would not be averse to that."

"What about Sturm?" Raistlin asked. There was a moment of silence before both mages burst into laughter. Roltan's pen hovered over the last line hesitantly.

"So...no on this Sturm fellow?"

Dalamar smiled, shaking his head.

"I think my Shalafi would rather prefer you allowed some of the deceased to remain so."

"As interesting as it would be..." Raistlin interjected.

"I think we'll leave the bastard in his grave." Dalamar finished.

Roltan set the pen down and picked up a satchel that lay on the table beside him. It clinked and shifted as he handed it to Dalamar.

"These are sample cases. In order to proceed with this you must bring me organic matter from each of the candidates for resurrection."

There was a moment of complete silence while those words sunk in. Finally Raistlin cleared his throat.

"You want us to desecrate the corpses of our fallen companions?"

"If you would prefer it, perhaps you could bring back the entire body of each person, carry it back here through goodness knows what sort of danger, surrounded by the smell and the feel of rotting flesh. Skin splits when it decomposes. Did you know? And the ichor that comes out is black and highly aromatic. I dare say you would find the process more mentally scarring than the experience of watching them die to begin with. It is much cleaner to take a small tissue sample, put it into the glass vial, mark the name on the outside, and hop back here before tea-time. Hmm?"

An awkward pause greeted these words, and Dalamar picked up the bag.

"I shall do it, Shalafi. You should rest here, under the supervision of Lord Roltan, until you are fully healed. I remember well enough where your brother and his wife are buried. I will go."

"Dalamar..."

"No, my Shalafi. Please, I beg this of you." Dalamar seldom interrupted his master, so great was his respect for the powerful arch-mage, but this time he was vehement. Raistlin was finally within reach of a cure for the vile ailment that had threatened him from the day of his Test. He, Dalamar, was unwilling to risk the health of one he so loved simply to take him grave-robbing.

Roltan seemed at once to understand this, and turned swiftly to a large bookshelf set into the wall. He took down a huge, frayed old tome that fairly crackled with power and laid it on the table in front of Raistlin.

"I could rather use a bit of help cataloguing my spell books and such, if you would be so generous as to aide me, my friend."

The tactic worked beautifully. Raistlin's eyes lit up at the sight of the book, and with a trembling hand he touched the cover.

"Perhaps," he whispered faintly, "I could remain behind for a few days."

Dalamar looked to Roltan with profound gratitude, and the necromancer smiled back. Something wordless and comfortable passed between them, an understanding of sorts. Dalamar glanced down as something soft and warm slid past his leg, and a moment later Aegis was rising into sensual beauty beside him. She brushed suggestively against his hip as she moved to stand closer to her master, twining her long fingers through his hair.

"I love you." she purred, and Roltan looked down at the gorgeous creature pressed to his chest and did something that Dalamar found almost unbearably amusing.

He scratched her lovingly behind her right ear and kissed her forehead, no more aroused than he would have been had she remained in her cat form.

"I hope tonight is a night of fat and lazy squirrels, little one."

"Yes, master. If I catch more than one, I shall bring it to you."

"Oh please, not again. You know how I feel about poor little dead animals. I will have to drop everything and resurrect the beast before I will be able to relax again."

Dalamar wondered how many times Aegis had caught and killed the same squirrels, and whether the rodents would somehow learn from their repeated mistakes and steer clear of the area.

Roltan picked up the list and handed it to Dalamar.

"You will find that the other denizens of this castle will be more than happy to outfit you for your journey, and a great deal better than you were before, I should think."

"Other denizens?"

"Yes, Dalamar. This castle is full of Draconians."

"I remember you mentioning them. Will you elaborate a bit?"

"The Draconians of this place are not like those you left behind. These are larger, quicker, more intelligent, more beautiful than what you have become accustomed to fighting. It is true, they were created from Dragon eggs originally as your Krynn Dracs were, but there the similarity ends. These can breed amongst themselves with no regard to color, producing fantastic variations. They have arranged themselves into guilds, each guild embracing a different skill. Felichette, the pilots. Vrik-Tai, the berserkers, also called Black Squadron. Delesetti, the science corps. Kendrikan, the front line. Umaron, the mages. And over them all the Tendali, the officers' guild, where some of the most brilliant tacticians in the universe meet and lay plans. The Draconians are led by Lord Valankar, the Gold One, the Lord of the Morning. He is the God of Chaos."

"Our Chaos desired only destruction, it seemed to me."

"This is no pathetic under-god with a superiority complex, Dalamar. This is one of the Three. He does not desire to bring you harm. He is...complicated. Yes. Complicated, but not lethal to either of you."

Raistlin put a hand to his brow, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Draconians, Chaos, death that isn't permanent. A cat that is not a cat. This new life we are embarking upon is more confusing than what we have left behind, but I am eager to learn more. Introduce us to these creatures, Master Mettamoon. We are ready."

After such a comment, what could Dalamar do but nod? And Roltan smiled broadly, sharp white teeth gleaming.

"These Dracs are my friends. In time, I think you will view them as such also."

"We will see." Dalamar muttered. Raistlin glanced over sharply as the door opened, but it was only Aegis. She held a tray of food in her hands, and there was a happy swish to her walk.

"Did you catch, perhaps, a squirrel or two my dear?" Roltan asked, taking the tray from her and setting it before his guests. Both men's eyes immediately turned with suspicion to the covered soup tureen before them.

"No, not this evening."

The mages sighed in barely-perceptible relief and dug in. Aegis maliciously waited until their mouths were full to purr up at Roltan, "I caught a few bats, though."

"Gah!" Dalamar pushed the bowl away, wiping at his mouth with a white linen napkin. Raistlin, however, continued to chew. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then swallowed.

"Superb, cat. You were able to make a bat taste like lamb. I am undone by your skill."

Roltan laughed aloud and gave Aegis an extra hug, then sat down and pulled out a bottle of what was unmistakably blood. He took a delicate sip.

This was quite enough for Dalamar.

"I think I ought to ready myself to depart. Thank you for the...the meal. Shalafi, if I might have a word?"

Raistlin got to his feet, still weak from the effects of his experiences, and followed Dalamar to their host's bedroom.

The dark elf wasted no time.

"Shalafi, I would very much like you to promise me something."

Raistlin, surprised at the audacity of the request, merely nodded his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

Dalamar reached out and brushed a silken tendril of moon-colored hair away from his Master's forehead before he could stop himself. The gentleness of the gesture startled both of them, and Dalamar suddenly drew his hand back as though stung.

Raistlin caught him by the wrist, fire lighting his eyes. But whether it was rage or warmth, Dalamar could never tell. The two emotions seemed inextricable for him.

"Your request?" Raistlin prompted.

"You must not over-exert yourself in my absence. Please try to rest."

"I make no such promises. This vampire will keep me healthy."

"You have used up what little strength reserves you had in making this journey, my Shalafi."

"I have noted your concern, Dalamar. That is all."

Dalamar, sensing that the conversation would go nowhere from this point, closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

"Yes, Shalafi."

Raistlin stepped away from him then, and turned to go back into the warmth and light of the common room, where Roltan waited dark as shade with his power and his books and his spells and everything else that Raistlin had ever wanted.

"Dalamar." Raistlin's voice was soft, softer than the elf had ever heard it before.

"Yes."

"Dalamar...here in this place I wish you to stop calling me Shalafi. There is precious little else I have to teach you."

"What do you wish me to call you?"

"Call me friend, Dalamar. I have no others. I am Raistlin. Only that."

And so saying, he was gone.