A/N: Another chapter down. Thanks to all of you who have continued your support and your reviews. It is always appreciated. Now, as the story draws closer to a resolution, I ask again that you review and remind you that all criticism, suggestions, and help (and praise…) is welcome and valuedA million thanks to my amazing beta, Valgorúth, who gave me my first lesson in writing a battle, and a major boost in self-esteem about such writing. Were I not for you, I think that this chapter would have ended up a complete mess, rather than something I'm fairly happy with. Before I leave you alone to read (and review!) I do have a couple of announcements. I had intended on finishing this story before I leave for college, but as that is in a week and a half, I doubt that will happen. In case it doesn't, I am sorry, and I will try my hardest to update quickly with the last chapter. Thanks for your understanding!
And It's Fitting That It Should, For In Darkness I Must DwellWhen Dalamar and Stygia returned to the Library, Dalamar was glad to see that the forces sent by Takhisis seemed well trained. They had already set up defenses around the Great Library, and were patrolling diligently. The chromatic dragons had taken it upon themselves to roost on top of the nearby buildings, where they stayed in uneasy truce with their Good cousins.
Bidding Stygia farewell for the moment, Dalamar trudged wearily back to his borrowed quarters in the Library. With an exhausted sigh, he sat down and opened the spellbook that Raistlin had given him. As he had suspected, the magic in it was advanced enough that the letters did not define themselves for several minutes, and even then, the dark elf had difficulty divining their meaning. Lamenting the time that would be lost in the translation of the spell, Dalamar grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and braced himself for hours of grueling work.
After only a few more minutes of study, Dalamar's concentration was broken by a hammering on the door. Muttering about imbeciles who deserved to be damned to the bowels of the Abyss, the dark elf roused himself from the book, where he had finally seemed to have made a breakthrough. Seeing that his intruder was Fie, Dalamar restrained himself from blowing him off of the face of the world.
"Yes? I hope this is important." While he could prevent himself from doing the boy bodily harm, Dalamar could not contain his anger at being disturbed.
"I need more spells." Fie too did not seem willing to sheath the dagger that served as his tongue. "Raistlin said that I could use your spellbooks to study from."
Indignant at this breach in authority, Dalamar wondered if Raistlin had framed his advice in quite those terms. "And why do you think that I would let you study from my books, books which are likely too advanced for you to read anyway?" Dalamar had little patience for apprentices to begin with, and this particular one was truly beginning to try his nerves.
Fie paled in anger. "I'm tired of you treating me as though I'm worthless. I'm more powerful than you, and you know it. Denying me knowledge will do nothing for your cause. You're just jealous because someone more powerful than you came along, and that it's me. No, that's not it. I figured it out." Fie's voice was level, taunting, worrying Dalamar much more than it would if he had been shouting. "You're not jealous; you're afraid of me. You're afraid of what I am, afraid of what I can do, afraid of what I may become. And do you know what? Maybe you should be. But for now, we're both fighting Chaos, and for me to do that, I need more spells."
Too shocked by Fie's tirade and threats to do anything else, Dalamar mutely got the requested book and handed it to the young human. Not wishing to let the boy get the last laugh, but too confused to come up with a witty retort, Dalamar shut the door in Fie's face. He knew it was a petty thing to do, but he decided that even evil mages are entitled to be petty, once in a while. The dark elf could barely believe that the bright, courteous boy he had rescued from Earth could have gotten so hungry for magic and power in such a short time.
Looking down at the book before him, Dalamar suddenly realized the futility in his efforts. Even if he managed to translate the spell in time to save his daughter, which in itself was doubtful, he would not have the hours needed to memorize a spell of this magnitude for the first time. Even should he achieve that, he would still not have the time to arrange for the bevy of mages that would surely be needed for their power. And of course, on top of it all was the fact that no able-bodied mage could be spared from fighting Chaos for over two days, no matter what the reason. Briefly, he considered asking Fie for assistance, but no matter how powerful the boy was, he was not well-trained enough to read the spell with any more success than Dalamar himself had.
Not particularly expecting any divine intervention, Dalamar gave in to the strain that he had been under for the past few days. "Sweet Nuitari, help me! How in the name of Your Dark Moon do You expect me to save my daughter if I can't even read the spell? I thought that You did not assign impossible tasks to mortals, but it appears that I was wrong!" Dalamar shouted, more out of frustration than any hope of being heard.
"No need to scream. My ears work very well." Mouth agape, Dalamar leapt to his feet.
"My Lord! I… I didn't mean…" Dalamar was too stunned by the arrival of his god to speak in coherent sentences.
"Don't grovel." Nuitari's deep voice was tinged with amusement, along with its usual cynicism. "It doesn't become you. Neither does self-pity, by the way. Now, what seems to be the problem?"
Regaining his composure slightly, Dalamar bowed. "My apologies, Lord. I did not mean to disturb you. There is no problem." Though part of Dalamar's brain told him that the god had come to be ranted at in the first place, that voice was drowned out by his pragmatic side, which told him that it did not do to anger the gods.
Nuitari's thin mouth curved into a slight smile. "I would not be here if there was no problem. Now, let's see that spell of yours." The god of the Unseen Moon reached out his hand, and the spellbook flew into it obediently. "Hmm, Fistandantilus' work, I see. I should have known that you would settle for nothing less than the best you could get."
As Dalamar watched enviously, Nuitari flipped through the excessively long spell, internalizing its contents. "Unfortunately, however, you are right – the best in this case does seem to be a bit inadequate. Due to my cousins' decree, (over my strong objections I assure you!) necromancy is not permitted. Because of that, Fistandantilus never had the occasion to try out his spell. While it is beautifully written, had he tested it, Fistandantilus would have realized how dreadfully cumbersome this whole thing is. My apologies. I did not remember how little mortals truly knew about death and its workings."
Shaking his head in annoyance, Nuitari tossed the priceless spellbook across the room, where it landed in a heap in the corner like so much refuse. He either didn't notice or didn't care that Dalamar seemed close to despair at the sight. "I believe…" The patron of Evil magic thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "Ah. This should be better." A new, unfamiliar book arrived in Nuitari's hand. "The correct page is marked. Now, if you are done with your little pity party?" With that, Nuitari disappeared as soundlessly as he had come. The spellbook plopped neatly to the floor.
Confused as to who could have crafted a necromantic spell better than Fistandantilus, Dalamar picked the new spellbook up gingerly. He nearly dropped it again as he realized whose it was. Bound in a black alien fabric that was so dark it seemed to suck the light out of the room, the book could belong to no other than Nuitari himself.
"Thank you, Shalafi," Dalamar whispered in awe. Taking the book over to the desk, he set it down gingerly. For a moment, Dalamar could only look at the book, shocked at the honor his god had given him. Then, he gingerly found the elaborate place marker that Nuitari had promised, and he opened the book, careful not to look at any of the other spells. Dalamar did not doubt that there were powerful wards on the entire book, and had the feeling that should he look at any spell save the one he was promised, going mad would be a gentle punishment.
Stepping back as the book opened, Dalamar cautiously looked down to make sure he had the correct page. He sighed in relief at seeing the tastefully detailed onyx marker that Nuitari had left. The left page was blank, and on the right was a spell that spanned half the page. It was headed by ornate calligraphy in Common: "For The Joining Of A Soul With A Proper Receptacle."
Only an hour or so later, Dalamar had finished deciphering the spell. As Nuitari had promised it was much simpler, as well as more concise, than the one that Fistandantilus had crafted. With an exhausted by satisfied sigh, Dalamar sat back, rubbing his eyes. As soon as it was obvious that Dalamar was finished learning the spell and copying it onto a bit of lambskin, the ebon book disappeared. Dalamar glanced at the space where Nuitari's book had lain, not surprised in the least that the dark god wanted even more assurances that his servant would take no other spells.
Once again, a knock interrupted the dark mage's thoughts. Praying to Nuitari that it was not Fie come to inform him that he had finished learning the entire spellbook, Dalamar strode over to the door.
"Shalafi!" Dalamar thought that he had never been so glad to see Raistlin in his life. "Do you require something of me, sir?"
Raistlin glared as though he thought that Dalamar was making a comment about his lack of magic. "Though I may not still have my powers, Apprentice, I can still make myself useful." He invited himself into the room, taking over Dalamar's chair. The elf took a seat on the hard bed.
"I have been doing research in the Great Library." He seemed to think that this should cause some sort of significant effect on Dalamar. He was disappointed to see that the dark elf seemed merely confused. "Research on Chaos, you imbecile. I see now that time has, if possible, dulled your wits." He glanced scathingly at his former apprentice, just blinked wearily.
"Forgive me, Shalafi. I have been deciphering a lengthy spell. What have you learned about Chaos?" Dalamar had learned from experience that the best way to evade Raistlin's annoyance was to redirect his thoughts to whatever problem was at hand.
As usual, it worked. Raistlin's facial expression turned smug. "I have discovered how Chaos can be defeated." He waited until he saw that his proclamation had sunken into Dalamar's work-wearied mind. At his former apprentice's eventual look of surprise and hope, he continued. "I'm sure that you remember that a singular object known as the Greygem is currently in the possession of our precocious friend Fie? It was the cage with which Reorx had imprisoned Chaos at the beginning of the world."
Dalamar looked at Raistlin blankly, wondering what a god's action of thousands of years passed could have to do with their plight. Raistlin rolled his odd eyes with the expression of the long-suffering. "It is my opinion that we would be able to recapture Chaos with the Greygem. All we would need is a drop of his blood to be caught within the empty halves of the jewel."
Dalamar grunted in disbelief. "Oh, is that all? Then defeating him won't be hard in the least." Dalamar's voice was sarcastic. "Even if we could manage for someone to get close enough to capture Chaos' blood in the Greygem, it would be a suicide mission. Who is stupid enough not to see that immediately?"
Raistlin smiled darkly. "Or desperate enough to see it and not care?"
Stygia shifted uncomfortably on the roof of one of the buildings adjacent to the Library. She was bored. Would Chaos' forces ever attack? It seemed that she had been waiting for hours and hours and hours and hours! If this was what a war was like, the black dragon decided that, for the future, she would stay away from them at all costs.
There wasn't even anyone interesting for Stygia to talk to! The chromatic dragons who had riders were conferring with their partners about everything from their saddles to their stomachs. Many of the ones who were alone, as was Stygia, had decided to go to sleep, but the young dragon was much too restless for that. Several of the older dragons were awake, but they had told Stygia that she was an annoying youngster and needed to calm down.
Of course, there were some young metallic dragons around, but Stygia didn't think that she could go talk to them. Of course, she didn't see any reason why they couldn't be friends, but she thought that some of the older metallics might take offense. Stygia thumped her tail against the roof of the building, making it shake slightly. She supposed that she could destroy some buildings, but what fun was it when there were no screaming mortals around to protest? Stupid mortals, never around when they were needed…
Finally, Stygia resigned herself to another hour of flawless mumblety-peg playing with the claws of the opposite hand. Just as she was getting up to the proper speed, a fell noise distracted her and she slashed her hand for the first time since the day she'd learned the game. Giving no mind to her bloody claws, the young dragon looked about in alarm, attempting to spot the origin of the noise.
It did not take her long to find the offending being. Chaos was finally attacking, and his dragons were trumpeting their cries of anger. Stygia gave her own shriek to answer the challenge, a noise that was soon picked up by the rest of the dragons. The battle had begun!
Dalamar was alone in his room once more, and had just finished memorizing his spells when he heard the clarion calls of angry dragons. The dark elf leapt to his feet, all weariness forgotten as he hurried towards the battle that was raging outside. Once outside, he found that the high-ranking members of the Conclave who had been in attendance earlier had been joined by other mages of power, as well as some middling magic users.
Unfortunately, it was not only the mages who had multiplied in number. While Chaos himself did not appear to be present, his minions had once again swarmed the streets adjacent to the Great Library. Shadow-wights, hellhounds, and Chaos' dragons were attacking in numbers a thousand-fold of the menace of the day previous. There were also myriad other creatures, most so strange that even Astinus had no names for them. All seemed to be of the same flawless substance that had made the first wave so utterly indestructible.
Dalamar quickly walked over to the group of mages, assessing the situation that was brewing behind the already-erected shields with a calm eye. Upon reaching the other members of the Conclave, Dalamar found that Raistlin was in the center of the edgy-looking group.
"Cast your magic only when the enemy is attacking. If you manage to hit them at the moment they release their power, there is a chance, a chance that you could succeed in destroying one of the creatures. Of course, as this would require immense dexterity and talent, or immense luck, so I highly doubt that you will be successful." Raistlin shrugged, apparently not caring that a couple of the other mages appeared ready to unleash their spells on him.
"Ah, Apprentice." Raistlin walked through the crowd, parting it easily. "Finally, someone around here with half of a brain. I trust that you, at least, have prepared appropriate spells?" Raistlin glanced scathingly back at the other mages, particularly at the White Robes.
"Yes, Shalafi." Dalamar bowed. After having Raistlin back for several months, it did not seem at all strange to the dark elf that they should resume their former master and apprentice relationship, even if Raistlin were no longer formally teaching him. "I believe that I am more prepared for Chaos' troops."
Indeed, Dalamar had worked that afternoon to learn several new spells from Fistandantilus' spellbook in addition to the one granted to him by Nuitari. He selected several different spells that operated in a similar manner to the one his daughter had used against Arash. Hopefully, he would be able to utilize them in a similar manner, though with not such fatal results.
With a grimace, Dalamar realized that Fie had also just walked out into the courtyard, which was dimly lit with the fey light of Chaos' minions, as well a glow emitted by a couple of the shielding spells. The boy looked around, appraising the situation outside of the walls of the shields. He smiled as one of the lurid dragons began to belch flames at the shields surrounding the library. Muttering quietly, the boy tossed a pinch of dried herbs in the general direction of the dragon. The dragon seemed to swell, and all of a sudden, it burst into millions of pieces. The pieces fell to the ground, and appeared to burn all of the Chaos creatures that they touched. Dalamar recognized the spell as a variation on one that he had learned after studying for three years with Raistlin.
Fie laughed with glee. "Isn't it beautiful?" The assembled members of the Conclave flinched at the young magus' excitement. Raistlin appeared proud, or perhaps he was merely pensive.
"It would surprise me greatly if any of you could do as much." Raistlin's tone indicated the assembled mages of the Conclave. "Now, I leave you to your bumbling." The former archmagus bowed mockingly and left for the Great Library, presumably to study more.
Dalamar returned his attention to the activity outside of the shields. The creatures of Chaos seemed to have recovered from the side effects of Fie's curse. Now, the more bestial of the creatures circled the web of shields like carrion eaters, knowing that a host of mortals were about to die beyond the annoying barriers.
All of a sudden, the creatures of Chaos drew back. Dalamar swallowed, knowing what their withdrawal must herald. As he'd predicted, Chaos was soon visible, at a height with many of the buildings on the main street. His distended limbs and pulsating flesh sickened many of the assembled groups. Hearing an odd noise, Dalamar looked over and was amused to see a young White Robe retching.
Suddenly, the impasse was broken as Chaos, now in control of the full range of his powers, swept aside the mortals' pitiful attempts at shields. The newly arrived mages who had not witnessed the much weaker Arash do the same gasped in horror. The soldiers, tightly packed into the small courtyard showed no emotions other than readying their lances.
For a moment, the two sides simply stared at each other, neither seeming to know quite what to do now that the shields had been destroyed.
Then, the world dissolved into mayhem…
…Knights, lances flashing, being mown down as the creatures they were attacking showed no sign of injury after being skewered…
…Mages, not having been warned about the deadly effects of the shadow-wights, trapped in the horrific throes of despair…
…Dragons wheeling confused in the sky, injured by enemies that seemed to materialize from nowhere and disappear after attacking…
…Above it all, Chaos, laughing as his minions destroyed the denizens of his children's world, one by one.
Dalamar shook himself out of the mental fog that set in upon the attack of Chaos. He could not afford to lose any moment in pointless thought. The dark elf looked around quickly, forcing his tired brain to appraise the situation logically and attempt to find a vantage point.
No sooner had the thought materialized in his head did Stygia emerge from the clouds of gas and soot that had quickly formed in the sky. Not stopping to greet her, Dalamar made his sluggish muscles move as he jumped on her back.
As he cast a curse on a shadow-wight that was extending its power to entrap one of the soldiers, Dalamar had an idea. "Are there other dragons who do not have riders?" He had to scream for Stygia to hear him above the din.
Twisting and turning nimbly in the air to avoid debris and other dragons, Stygia turned to him. "Yes. Most of us did not have human companions. I cannot speak for the Platinum Dragon's servants, but those of us aligned with Her Dark Majesty came alone." She paused for an instant, and a grin formed on her reptilian features as she realized Dalamar's plan. Still spinning in the air, Stygia let forth a trumpeting shriek.
Quickly, Dalamar cast a spell to amplify his own voice. "To me, mages!" Quickly, the mages of the Red Moon and the Unseen Moon hurried towards the cry, and were met with chromatic dragons. It was not long until the White Robes abandoned their pride for the greater good and rushed towards the Evil dragons as well. Noting their cousins' missions, the dragons of Paladine made sure that no mage was left without a mount.
Shouting to each other over the din of the battle, a group of Red Robes, including Jenna and her father, broke off from the main host, deciding to focus on the attacking dragons. Many of the White Robes also departed, choosing to attempt to protect the soldiers from the onslaught of fey creatures that they were uselessly attacking.
Stygia took Dalamar back through the murky cloud that hovered above the battlegrounds. In front of the door of the Library stood Fie, a shield at his back to prevent the enemy from entering the ancient halls. Seemingly tireless, the apprentice mage cast spells as quickly as a master, each one hitting a target and causing destruction. Dalamar shook his head at the display of sheer power, but put that worrying thought out of his mind for another time. Namely, a time when he was not facing a head-on attack from a flying servant of Chaos.
Dalamar quickly searched his arsenal of spells for something that could be of use as Stygia held the attacker at bay with her fiery breath. Sensing that Dalamar was ready, Stygia allowed the thing to get a bit closer. As it approached, the dark elf began his spell. Finally, the expected attack came as the thing released a jet of Chaos-essence through a claw on the end of one of its fin-like appendages. At the moment the power was released, Dalamar also released his spell. Stygia swerved out of danger at the last second, allowing Dalamar as much time to aim as was possible. As the bolt of Chaos essence seared the air above Dalamar's head, the thing was engulfed in a ball of flame.
Dalamar laughed, but he convinced himself that it was because of the heady feeling of flight, not a joy in destruction.
"Damn it." Tanis cursed to himself as he swung the sword of Kith Kanan around, desperately trying to stem the tide of fell creatures that were decimating his army. It seemed as though he were the only one who could do anything against the beasts. They seemed to be completely impervious to the sharp steel blades that worked so well when the soldiers had been fighting some of the very dragons that they were now allied with.
Finally, the half-elf heard a cry of triumph from his second, a Solamnic knight named Torick Swiftsteel.
"Sir!" Torrick's victorious call carried over the short distance to where Tanis was attempting to defeat the forces of Chaos single-handedly. "If they're knocked out already by the time we get to them, they can be killed!" Tanis felt his heart lift as he heard the joyous news.
"Men!" Now it was Tanis attempting to be heard over the chaos of the battle. "Try to find creatures already downed by the mages!" The half-elf impaled a hellhound that had been leaping at him, killing it with the innate magic of his sword.
The battle had been raging for several hours, and Tanis' muscles were beginning to protest. I'm getting old, the half-elf thought wryly. During the War of the Lance, Tanis had known no such fatigue. He could not rest, though. Too much rested on him. If he fell, it was likely that the rest of his troops would fall as well. And the mages needed to rest, so who knew how long they could last against a tireless foe?
No, should he stop fighting, Chaos could win the battle. If Palanthas fell, the rest of Ansalon would not be far behind. How could he allow that to happen to his close friends Caramon and Tika, still living in their hometown of Solace? What would happen to the carefree kender? Though the elven fighters were fierce, there was too much strife between the Silvanesti and the Qualinesti still, and both forests would likely fall in short order.
The elves… That train of thought brought Tanis to his most important reason for fighting on. His family. His lovely Laurana, the elven princess who was the light of his life. The beautiful, strong woman who did not seem to age a day as he got older and older. Their son, Gilthas. How could Tanis let them down? He knew that he could not face them in the realms of the dead if he did not fight now with all of his might, until the end.
Bellowing with renewed vigor, Tanis leapt towards a group of his men who were futilely attempting to overcome a pack of hellhounds. Yelling a wordless cry, the half-elven commander beheaded one of the vile creatures that was attempting to feast on the body of one of the men. While Tanis was still alive, he would remain in the battle with his men. Men with their own families. It was not himself Tanis was fighting for, or even his home. It was the children.
It did not take long for the minutes to blur into hours for Dalamar. It seemed as though life had never contained anything for the dark elf save dodging, wheeling, and casting spells. Stygia cast some of her spells as well, letting the mage on her back recover between his own. It seemed that no matter how many beings were destroyed by Dalamar, Fie, and the other mages of the Conclave, an endless stream of the demons continued their deadly barrage.
Dalamar suddenly heard a great cry from where the soldiers were fighting. Looking first towards the mages, he saw that, though their numbers were diminished, Dunbar Mastermate was still leading the charge towards the unyielding host of Chaos. As Dalamar turned his gaze downwards, he suddenly realized what the problem was. Though he was hundreds of feet away from the area, the dark elf could still make out the body that lay on the ground of the courtyard, unmoving.
Tanis Halfelven, one of the few non-magicusers who had ever shown Dalamar kindness, was slain. Around his body was a sizeable puddle of Chaos essence. Seemingly, he had been able to destroy some of the creatures with a sword that held the power of the gods of Good. Only one of the creatures that had originally attacked the Hero of the Lance had survived – a hellhound that now fed on the prone body.
While the creature was feeding and had its attention and strength fixed elsewhere, Dalamar shot a curse out of the sky, killing it immediately. The soldiers, who had been standing in shock around their commander's body, seemed to remember their cause. Torick Swiftsteel, Tanis' second in command, took up the sword of Kith Kanan and, screaming a Solamnic war cry, threw himself back into the fray with renewed vigor. The rest of the soldiers followed, honoring their fallen general's valor by continuing the fight.
Seeing that the problem with the ground forces had been resolved, Dalamar turned his attention back on the battle.
Jenna and her father, both mounted on fearsome red dragons, flew through the air next to each other. Facing in opposite directions, they had an unspoken agreement to watch each other's backs. Though the dragons frequently had to dodge to avoid the Chaos creatures, the two always returned to their original protective formation. The young red robed woman screamed in anger as one of her comrades, a man who had been her lover before she met Dalamar, was plucked off of his dragon's back by one of the Chaotic dragons. The dragon disappeared, happily munching its prey, before Jenna could destroy it.
"Look out!" Jenna ducked low automatically at the call from her father. Over her head shot a fireball spell which quickly engulfed one of the flying demons that was in Chaos' power. She had no time to thank her father as she herself shot a spell at an enemy dragon.
Jenna had only been a child during the famed War of the Lance, and this was her first battle. Though she was not as bad off as some of the other mages, Jenna felt sick to her stomach at the carnage that surrounded them. She supposed she was lucky; her foes were truly indisputably evil, and so far removed from human that their murder seemed a lesser crime.
To Jenna, the worst part of the battle was seeing those around her fall to the forces of Chaos. These were people who she had known for years, many since childhood. As her father was a longtime member of the Conclave, Jenna had grown up at Wayreth and knew most of the red robes, as well as a good number of the other mages. Now these people, her family, were being killed as though they were defenseless mice attempting to fight the hawks that preyed upon them.
The part of her brain that was abstracted from the battle knew that she would be devastated by their deaths eventually, but for now, all of the carnage simply served to make Jenna even more furious at the forces of Chaos who were trying to destroy her world. While she could do nothing to save those who had already been slain in defense of their homes and their families, she could try to keep the others safe. She shot a spell past one of the younger members of her order, obliterating the winged attacker that the young man had not seen in time.
Frantically, Jenna's dragon dove and swerved, attempting to keep her rider out of harm's way. Because of this, it was not until it was too late that Jenna noticed a Chaotic dragon hurling out of the dusky fog towards the space at her father's side that she had just vacated.
"Look out!" Jenna shrieked, searching her mind for a spell. However, she panicked at the sight of the fearsome creature whizzing towards the person she loved most in the world, and the words of all of her spells jumbled like a puzzle in her mind. Screaming warnings ineffectually, Jenna could do nothing as the fell dragon scooped her father out from his saddle.
Jenna's arms grew numb, and she felt as though she'd completely lost control of her body. She couldn't even scream any more. In mute horror, the red robe watched as the dragon tore apart her father and allowed the pieces to fall to the ground. How could this happen? How could the man that she had looked up to for her whole life suddenly be gone? Frantic, Jenna began to hyperventilate.
Finally, her shock was broken as the red dragon she was riding swerved to insure that her own rider wouldn't be plucked away from above as well. Realizing that she had been putting her own life at stake, as well as the lives of all of the other mages surrounding her, Jenna managed to pull through her haze of pain. With renewed vigor and purpose, she threw herself into the battle, determined to let no more red robes die.
The normal stupor that set on the warriors due to the fighting was even greater because of the deep cloud of night that covered the whole battle ground. None of the fighters realized how much time had passed, until the first rays of sunlight began to pierce through the haze and ash that shadowed the Library. As those first rays of light began to grace the world, many of the fighters thanked whichever god they worshipped that the sun still existed.
"Sir!" The frantic cry made Dalamar turn around. A young red robe mounted on a Blue dragon was riding in quickly. The mage was blinking in weariness, held in his saddle much more by the protective straps than by his own volition. "Lady Jenna… She needs help…" Stygia shot a tongue of flame at one of Chaos' beasts over the shoulder of the Blue.
"Her father… He was killed a few hours ago. She's been doing the work of two mages ever since. We're worried…" The young mage was cut off as his dragon suddenly swerved, slashing at another flying thing that was endeavoring to catch the mages unawares. The young man gasped as his dragon righted itself. "We're worried she'll kill herself in the effort. Can you do anything?"
The sudden realization that he had been fighting for twelve hours, and awake and working for even longer hit Dalamar like a ton of bricks. Now that the reverie of the battle was broken, the dark elf realized how close he himself had come to death through magic. He nodded to the Red Robe, only iron will insuring that the exhaustion consuming him did not become apparent on his face.
Stygia wheeled, turning back from the fray. She brought him to where the main host of Chaotic dragons was fighting. Many Red Robes surrounded the circling beings of Chaos, but their numbers where greatly diminished from that which had existed in the beginning. Leading the charge was Jenna, diminished to only the most basic of spells. These spells she used with ingenuity, however, still managing to cripple the enemy, if no longer able to actually destroy it.
"Jenna!" Dalamar yelled over the din. He and Stygia flew closer, hoping to attract her attention. "Jenna! You must rest!"
Lunitari's servant turned, glaring at the person who dared bother her. "Why?" Her voice was harsh and strained.
"You are going to kill yourself. You need time to rest and time to memorize your spells again. Come back to the Library." By this time, Dalamar himself was battling his exhaustion actively, barely able to remain consciousness.
"I can't leave them. If I leave the battle they will all die." Jenna's eyes were wild, her voice slightly hysterical. She shot a basic sleep spell at an attacking dragon, and it fell to the ground, prone.
"You do no good here. If you go to rest, you can rejoin the fray in hours, strong once more. If you stay, you will be killed, and then the forces of Krynn will be weakened permanently. If it will make you feel better, we can contact the remaining members of the Conclave, and see that replacements come." Turning, Dalamar managed to destroy another dragon. He quickly went through his mental catalogue of spells, and found that he too would have to resort to basic spells not meant for real battle soon as well.
Jenna looked as though she were about to argue again, but realized that arguing was possibly the worst thing that could be done in the middle of the battle. She nodded and broke away from the fray towards the Library. Even her immense red dragon seemed tired as it sluggishly swerved to avoid the other combatants. Jenna cast a last longing glance at the battle, obviously wanting to keep fighting despite her physical and mental weaknesses.
The two mages dismounted from their respective dragons when they reached the relative safety of the courtyard in front of the Library. Guarding the door was Fie, seemingly unaffected by the hours of spellcasting.
"You need to rest as well." Dalamar was too tired to bother being nice to the arrogant young man.
"I'm fine." Fie shrugged, throwing a sleep spell at an attacking creature so that the ground forces could kill it. "I don't need to rest. I still have enough spells."
Dalamar seethed, his normal calm façade impeded by his overwhelming weariness. "You will rest. I will not have Krynn sacrificed because of your hubris. Wars have been lost in the past because of mages who refused to rest and relearn their spells. That will not happen in this battle so long as I still have breath in my body."
Fie shook his head, annoyed by the intrusion. "Fine. But, if the war is lost while I'm resting, it will be on your head." The three gratefully surrendered to the cool twilight of the Library.
"We all need rest, but before we can, there is something else that needs to be done. Do you know anything about communication spells, Fie?" Dalamar knew that it would be lunacy for any but the strongest of mages to attempt to communicate with Wayreth after a prolonged fight. Much as he would've liked to avoid asking the human teen for anything, Dalamar decided that much more was at stake than his pride.
"Yes." Fie was obviously still annoyed at the elf for making him agree to rest.
Jenna realized what Dalamar needed, and decided to intervene before the testosterone levels in the Library got even higher. "Its all right, Dalamar. I'm sure that Fie is weary after casting so many spells. I can contact Wayreth." She'd dealt with enough adolescents to realize the best course of action.
"I can do it!" As she's predicted, Fie's anger was channeled away from Dalamar himself, and onto the adult world at large for underestimating him. "What do you want me to ask them?"
"Tell them that we need relief forces, because we have all been fighting for over half a day. When you've finished, if you do not wish to sleep, at least study your spells." Dalamar stopped any further arguments by heading towards his own quarters, too tired to do anything save sleep.
Dalamar was awakened a little while after midday by Raistlin. Despite the short duration of his rest, the dark elf felt completely refreshed. "It is done, Apprentice."
Though awake, Dalamar was not yet alert. "What is done, Shalafi?"
Raistlin rolled his eyes. "Our plan. It has been carried out. I have found one willing to bear the Greygem, and to attack when the time is right. I have already given said stone to the sacrifice."
Dalamar was relieved. "I am glad that she was willing. Now, Sir, if you will excuse me, I have much studying to do before I will be ready to fight the forces of Chaos again." Raistlin nodded, and left his old apprentice in order to go in search of his new one.
Upon finding the young man, Raistlin pulled a small book of a night blue binding out of the depths of his robes. "There is a spell in this book that I believe you will find useful. You should have the capability to read it. I have marked the page. Do not attempt any of the other spells that lie within these pages, however. They are all spells of power that should only be used by a true master. Were times not this dire, I would not have even allowed you to see the one I mentioned. Return the book to me once the battle is over."
Fie nodded, eyeing the book greedily. "Yes, Master."
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Several hours later, Dalamar, Jenna, Fie, and all of the other mages and soldiers who had found solace within the Library overnight, were ready for battle once more. Because of the Library's innate magic, the night had been quiet within, and there had been plenty of food waiting at all hours for hungry soldiers.
"We will not have much time to spend fighting today." Dalamar's statement brought gasps from his companions. "Time grows short for my daughter," he explained. "We will need our rest tonight so that we may spend the day tomorrow preparing for and casting the spell." His voice was grim.
"You are going to go through with this?" Jenna sounded incredulous.
"I am sorry." Dalamar's sad eyes told his lover how much he wished that, for her sake, something could be done about her father. "The gods of magic told me that they are making an exception, because Catherine was not supposed to die. They were quite firm, however, that it was merely an exception."
Jenna nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "You will need our help?" She hoped that by throwing herself into her work, she could dull the pain, at least until she had time to deal with it.
"Yes. This spell requires many to work it, though only one needs to have actually learned the spell. Many are needed to channel the power. I believe that I will also need the aid of Dunbar, and the most talented Red Robe you can think of, besides yourself, of course."
Jenna acknowledged his request, thinking about who could be trusted. "Why no one else from the Black Robes?" Fie sounded as though he felt slighted.
"To my understanding, a balanced group of mages is the best way for the spell to be carried out. I believe that six will be strong enough. Though you have not yet been Tested, you will be strong enough to aid me in representing the Black Robes. Par-Salian will suffice as the second White Robe."
They reached the entrance to the Library. Jenna gasped in horror. The day had not gone well for the defenders so far. As most of the strongest mages had been working throughout the night, the daytime shift did not have the power to hold of the inexorable tide of Chaos. Any slight advantage that may have been gained for the people of Krynn overnight had been lost again a hundred times over when the relief corps had arrived.
"We must not fight much past sundown. Our full strength will be needed tomorrow," said Dalamar, not allowing any remorse at leaving the battlefield to enter his voice. The other two nodded grimly.
As Fie and Jenna took their places once more on the battlefield, Dalamar attempted to find Dunbar. Luckily, Stygia was able to find the golden dragon procured by the head of the White Robes amid the ash that had only gotten darker as the battle raged. Through Stygia, Dalamar managed to get Dunbar onto the ground again, in the entrance hall in the Library.
"Dunbar, I will need your assistance tomorrow. I have a spell to cast, one that is crucial to the future of Krynn. It is too powerful for me to handle alone, however."
"What kind of spell?" Though Dunbar was, by nature, relatively trusting, he could not help but be suspicious of such a nebulous request for help by someone who was his complete opposite in theology. "When is it being cast?"
Dalamar chose to ignore the mage's first question. "It will be cast tomorrow, in the afternoon. Preparations, however, will begin in the morning. As I'd said before, it is a spell of immense power, so you will need your rest. It is crucial to the fate of Krynn; I swear by all of the gods of magic."
Though Dunbar was still wary, he knew as well as any that the gods of magic would strike down any who dared use their name without due cause. He nodded. "I will make sure to have a relief fighter ready so that I can sleep tonight and accompany you in the morning."
"Thank you." Dalamar gave a slight, graceful bow in acknowledgement. "The casting will take place at Master Par-Salian's manor." The dark elf looked up, and seemed to notice for the first time the havoc outside. "We must get back to the battle before any more time is wasted."
For the next several hours, Dalamar was plunged back into desperate battle. If anything, it seemed as though Chaos' forces had increased and strengthened from the past day.
Fie was glad that he was fighting again. He didn't like killing things. No, that wasn't why. What he loved was the feeling of magic flooding his veins, flooding his brain, flooding his very being. The feeling was intoxicating to say the least.
Fie laughed in delight as he cast another spell at the creatures that threatened to overtake the Library. How had he ever been able to live without the magic? Even as he had gone to sleep that morning, completely tired from his efforts of the night prior, he felt as though he were missing something that was crucial to his being. Now, that feeling was rectified. Once more, the magic was his.
As he cast some of the horrific spells that he had learned a few short days before, Fie allowed himself to be completely engulfed in the magic. According to Raistlin, this was the way to become a true master. As he allowed spell after spell to sweep through his mind into his veins, and then into the enemy, he wondered why more mages did not give themselves so completely to the magic. True, there was a risk in such complete surrender, but Fie could imagine nothing that was more worth it.
Finally, the battleground darkened, indicating that night had fallen outside of the twilight that engulfed the area surrounding the Library. It seemed to Dalamar that it would be as good a time as ever to break for the night and go to sleep.
With Stygia's aid, the evil mage found Dunbar and Jenna, and motioned that they had best have their rest as well. The two's dragons wheeled with much reluctance towards the Library once more. When they landed, Dalamar found that a young Red Robe had followed Jenna. Dalamar nodded at the young woman, not feeling that there was any need for words.
"Fie. It is time to go in." Dalamar hoped that he would not have to deal with adolescent pride once more.
"Just one more spell. To even the odds." Fie smiled mysteriously. Dalamar, on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes. If there were actually a spell in existence that could even the odds facing the mortals of Krynn, he had surely never seen it.
Dalamar decided to indulge the young man his last fireball, if it would prevent further conflict. At the present, the most important thing was for Catherine to be given back her life, not to play "Best Mage."
Slowly, Fie began chanting. At first, Dalamar thought that the frequent pauses were due to insecurity in Fie's knowledge of the spell, but as he listened, he realized that it was the cadence of the spell. Despite himself, the dark elf was impressed. It was usually only spells of a very complicated nature that had a rhythm as well as a pattern of words to memorize.
Soon, Fie began to dance to the rhythm of the spell he wove, scattering components of an unknown nature in a geometric fashion around himself. As the spell progressed, Fie's passage, as well as his chanting, grew swifter. After a few more minutes that left the observers breathless, Fie had finished his masterpiece. The components that he had scattered in the dance now formed a complex pattern of lines and whorls at the door in front of the Library.
Fie took a deep breath, and then whispered a word of power. For a moment, the world seemed to constrict and swirl. A booming noise filled everyone's minds, completely bypassing their ears. Finally, Fie was thrust out of the pattern he had created, and a whirlwind erupted where he had been.
Within seconds, the whirlwind reached out, as though it were a hand. From the sky, it plucked one of Chaos' dragons. The dragon was sucked down quickly into the relentless pool, and disappeared before it hit the design. Presumably, it was being transported to some netherworld where Chaos did not rule.
Dalamar, Jenna, Dunbar, and the other Red Robe could only watch in mute astonishment as one after another, the whirlwind sucked up more and more of the creatures of Chaos. Soon, the other fighters noticed that something had changed, and they were gaping as well. Fie simply smirked, admiring his handiwork.
Leaving the whirlwind to wreak destruction on its own, he turned to his companions. "Now I am ready to retire for the night. It'll wear out in a quarter of an hour or so." He gestured nonchalantly towards the Library door, "If you've finished?"