Krysania: Thank you!
Celestial
No light no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
No Light No Light, Florence + the Machine
It was a dream.
Maybe some part of Raistlin wanted to believe it. Most of him, really. It was possible, that thread of hope begged, Dalamar could have come back in time himself. He had Fistandantilus' spellbooks in the Tower; he could have cast the spell. He could be here, really be here-
But he wasn't. Because Raistlin was dreaming.
Dalamar had his back to him, hood drawn up, but Raistlin knew it was him. Everything he wanted, everything he was, screamed at him to go to him, put his arms around the elf and hold him, hold him forever. Maybe draw him back to his bed, pull his robes off, guide his hands through his own stolen robes. Flesh against flesh, warmth against warmth. Close his eyes and come home for the first time in two years.
His hands itched for him; his body was raw with want. Sexually yes, but that was just a footnote in the sheer, devouring need to have Dalamar. Have him one more time. In case it all went wrong and he never could again. Didn't he deserve that much? Wasn't it worth just a few moments of happiness, even in a dream?
But he couldn't move. Because there was a hook inside him, lodged under his ribcage- in his heart even, if he would allow the cliché, It hurt. Even just standing there, looking at Dalamar, was almost more than he could bear. Touching the elf, even in a dream, would shatter him.
"I love you." Even in a dream, the words sounded stupid, pathetic and pale in comparison to what had happened. At least he knew that now: words were useless.
The only thing dream-Dalamar did was to bow his head. The robes pulled a little closer around his shoulders, the edge of his shoulder blades, the jut of his backbone. I love you. I love you I love you I love you.
"I am ending this," he continued helplessly, trying to drown out the roaring in his head. "It will be over soon. I will not remember, and you will not either. It will not have happened. We will have the time, all over again-"
Dalamar turned, and Raistlin could not speak. His robes were open to the waist, the long stretch of pale, delicate skin, pallid after too long in that blasted tower. Ribs and collarbones a little too stark, too sunken below the ribs.
And five bloody holes in his chest.
Raistlin choked, shuddered. Fistandantilus' memories were patchy, but he knew every one of those holes lined up with his right hand. "I'm sorry." The weakest, most idiotic whine. He did this. He might not have cast the spell, but he had started them down this road. Gods. He should travel back to the Test and kill himself.
Dalamar said nothing. His head was down, hood pulled so low Raistlin couldn't see anything of his face, just long strands of hair hanging down. He stepped closer. Raistlin stiffened, wanting to back away- and wanting to rush up and get a whole lot closer. Caught between the two urges, he didn't move, watching Dalamar come closer.
The elf lifted a hand. His robes were loose and his hand half lost in the sleeve, Raistlin couldn't help it any more. He reached up, touched fingertips to Dalamar's. The shadows under his hood flickered into a smile, Dalamar spread his fingers, entwining them with Raistlin's; a warm, tight knot locked in his throat and made his breath stutter.
Dalamar lifted his head, but his face was lost in the darkness, behind his fallen hair. His free hand dropped down, rested on the small of Raistlin's back. His fingers spread, thumb rubbing over the curve of his pelvis. He was so close. So warm. It was like drowning, slowly going under, feeling his lungs fill with water, and wanting more.
He should pull away. He should stop this, wake up. It was just a dream and it would hurt so much more when it all disappeared from under his hands-
He rested his hand on Dalamar's shoulder, slid under his robes, felt the warm tension of his skin. That warm, hungry smile under his hood. "I missed you." Raistlin breathed.
Why not? Just- why not? The last few years had been a nightmare- shouldn't he enjoy this? A sweet reminder of why he was doing this- what was waiting for him at the end of this road-
And finally- finally- he took a step closer. His body close against Dalamar's, warm. So warm. Home at last. Raistlin smiled, and lowered his head down to breathe in Dalamar's scent-
He smelled of blood, and rot, the smell of something left dead and mouldering for years.
Raistlin shoved him away, and Dalamar laughed; a soft, foul sound so unlike his, Raistlin couldn't believe he had ever been fooled. Furious, he snatched at his robes and pulled down the man's hood.
It was Dalamar's face, with Fistandantilus' eyes and mocking smile. It was Amberyl, laughing through her tears. It was Crysania, mad and hungry and refusing to hear no.
Then he blinked, and knew who was in front of him.
"Go away!" Raistlin shrieked, lashing out and tangling himself in the blankets. The room was empty and stifling. "Get out of my head!" He tore aside the curtains, staring out into the midnight sky above Istar.
"Get out," Raistlin repeated, staring up at the slowly turning stars. The constellation of the Dark Queen. "Do not touch me. Do not come near me."
There was no answer but a faint echo in his mind, like a woman laughing, far, far away.
"You are not my Queen," Raistlin hissed, throwing aside the bedclothes and sitting up. "You are nothing to me."
He got up, splashed his face with water turned lukewarm in the limpid, breathless heat. Washed the sweat from his shivering body. He hugged himself, standing alone, in the darkness. For a moment, he remembered being young, being small and helpless and afraid in the dark.
"You are nothing," Raistlin snarled finally. He threw on his robes and gathered his magic around him. Hopefully there would be no one in the kitchens at this time, and no one would notice the loss of a pot of tarbean tea.
He wasn't going to sleep again tonight.
Nor the night after that, or the night after that. The sky shattered open with thunder, storms tore at the buildings, a cyclone ripped up a length of the temple.
The crash of lightning woke Raistlin from his fitful doze. The fog outside was suffocating, and the flash lit it up a blind sheet white.
Tomorrow. Raistlin rubbed his eyes. Gods, he was so tired. The spell was almost completed, but the fury of the Gods had delayed him. The Cataclysm was soon- Gods, if it was after midnight, it would be today, and the circle needed to be finished.
Raistlin forced himself up, tried a gulp from the cup by his bedside and grimaced. Cold, rank tarbean tea would never be his favourite drink. But it cleared his head, focused him enough to wind the last few spells around his circle of power.
The fog fled as the sun rose. The clouds above were purplish black, like a bruise, or the face of a drowned man. Raistlin turned his mind away from it, and placed the shards of obsidian into the three branches from the Balakan grove.
There was no effect; the spell hadn't been triggered yet, but it felt… complete. Right. Raistlin could taste the potential of the magic, could hear its thrumming, tense readiness even under the roar of the storm.
Done. Raistlin closed his eyes. Let the smile touch his lips. Finished. Time to go.
He got up stiffly, and reached out with his hand, his magic. Flicked through the motions of the little summoning spell, focused on his missing handkerchief.
"Mas colang mayat sentu," he murmured.
"Wow!" Tasslehoff stumbled, and fell over. Raistlin smiled. "That was great! Did you do that- woosh me here? Can you do it again?"
"Soon," Raistlin said smoothly. "We must go now."
Tasslehoff hesitated, "What, now? Just you and me? What about Crysania and Caramon?"
"I'm sure Par-Salian brought them a way to get home." Raistlin shrugged, "Some artefact or spell-"
"Oh, yeah." Tasslehoff smiled, "I saw it. It's really nice. It was a sort of sceptre but it was a pendant at the same time-"
Raistlin frowned- a Device of Time Journeying? "Just one?" Although where Par-Salian could have gotten two-
Tasslehoff nodded happily. "It was so beautiful! All that gold and emerald-"
"And who has it?" Raistlin stepped inside his circle.
"Caramon- but I don't know if he knows how to use it." Tasslehoff bit his lip. "And the Cataclysm is coming soon-"
"I am sure Crysania knows how to use it." Raistlin beckoned the kender towards the circle. Who cared? Even if they realised what to do, the Device could only carry one of them forward in time. Let them fight over who that was.
Tasslehoff stayed put, still gnawing on his lip. "I'm not sure she does, she was- a bit dead when we were sent back, I don't think she'll remember-"
There was a crash somewhere above them. Lightning had hit a temple spire and collapsed it. Raistlin gritted his teeth. "It doesn't matter. Don't you remember what I told you? Time will unwind. They will wake up before the Dragonwar and have no memory-"
"But they'll be stuck here at the same time!" Tasslehoff's hands twisted over each other. "You said we've got a few hours. I can find Caramon and Crysania and we can all go together." Tasslehoff took a deep breath, crossed his arms, and looked stubborn. "I'm not going without them. Flint can wait."
Raistlin gritted his teeth, forced himself to take a deep breath. Keep calm, he needed Tasslehoff. "Bring them here then, but we do not have much time. Give it much longer and this place will be too damaged to use. Have you seen what is happening outside, the buildings destroyed by the storm? What do you think it will do to our preparations? Delay too long and we will all die."
Tasslehoff drooped, then raised his head. "I'm going to get them." He turned, opened the door-
And was knocked flat by Crysania. The storm had torn her robes, dragged ragged fingers through her hair and knotted it into a bird's nest. She looked up at Raistlin, at Tasslehoff, at the circle. "You are leaving?"
"We are readying to leave," Raistlin corrected, cleared a few papers that had blown into the circle. "Close the door, you will ruin my work."
"You would to leave without us." Crysania stared at him. "Take the kender and leave us to die-"
"Do not be ridiculous," Raistlin said flatly. Tasslehoff opened his eyes- but was mercifully interrupted by the crash of thunder outside. "At this moment, the Gods are occupied with their show of force against the Kingpriest. They will not be paying attention to us. Will not be able to stop us when we-" go back to our own time, he caught himself, "move forward in time."
"To face the Dark Queen." Crysania frowned. "To destroy a great evil."
"If it is my plan, then I will need you and my brother, will I not, Revered Daughter?" The storm rose, Raistlin had to half shout to be heard over it. "Now, you get that oaf, and come back here. We are leaving within the hour."
Even as he spoke, the ground shook. Lightning stuck the spire above them, then struck again, and again, and again. The slow, grinding creak of stone started soft, then grew and grew until all three of them were staring up in horror.
"Gods." Raistlin breathed, as cracks started to spread across the ceiling. Then the shock shattered, and panic electrified him. Cast- but what? To travel now- or transport the circle somewhere safe?
A piece of plaster fell, knocking over one of his staves, and deciding it for him. Raistlin drew up his hands and cast, fast as he could.
"Kami ayun-" he started-
"I'm getting Caramon!" Tasslehoff shouted and ran from the room.
Raistlin gritted his teeth and focused on the spell. Lose that and they'd all die. "Bawa tanah!"
The circle glowed, flickered and blinked out of existence a second before a huge block of stone finally dislodged and plummeted through where the circle had been- and down, missing Raistlin by a foot, to smash a hole through the floor below. But not too far down. The circle would be safe in Fistandantilus' laboratory.
Raistlin turned, grabbed his spellbooks, staff, components belt and a spare robe, and ran. Out of this madhouse- in the rose gardens he would be away from falling masonry-
"The gods will not hurt us!" Crysania shouted from somewhere behind him. "They send this storm as a warning! None will be-"
Anything else she said was lost in the crash of collapsing minaret. Raistlin threw his sleeve over his mouth and staggered out through the plaster dust, stone fragments and dead spiders into the garden.
His throat spasmed, and he was coughing, hard and raw and painful. He glanced around through streaming eyes- the weather had been so hot, the gardeners must have-
There! Raistlin found the pail of water in the shade of a shrub. He splashed his face, drank three palmfuls of water, and looked up at the furious sky. The ground shook with the rage of the gods.
They didn't have much time. Raistlin wondered if he could see the incoming mountain if it wasn't for the storm. No doubt the cloud cover was to hide the truth from the people of Istar. If people saw a giant flaming rock coming towards them, getting bigger and bigger- the whole of Istar might suddenly decide to take a quick holiday to Palanthas.
After all, the lesson would not be quite so poignant without so a massive loss of life-
"Raistlin!" He stood up, Crysania was running towards him. She was staring at him, narrowed eyes, "You left me." She looked back at the temple. "The gods are destroying the temple, and you saved yourself-"
"You told me the gods would not harm us." Raistlin winced at the sound of his own voice- thin, croaking, far too familiar. One thing he was certainly not missing. "I assumed they would certainly not harm their favoured cleric-" A blast of flying dust, the strand of ornamental trees creaked and waved, tipping out of their own roots. Raistlin covered his mouth, tried to breathe through the filter of his sleeve. Coughed.
"You left me-" There was a worrying glint in her eyes, suspicion. Gods, not now!
"He left all of us." Caramon, oh hells. The man was in his ridiculous show armour, sword in hand. Tasslehoff ran up behind him, holding up-
The Device of Time Journeying. Raistlin glanced it over in a moment's curiosity, then the ground shook under them and brought his mind back to the present.
"Tasslehoff said you wanted to go without us." Caramon crossed his arms. A sword glinted on his hip. Most likely a pit prop, but then again, maybe not. "You were going to take him and go-"
"Expecting you would follow me!" Raistlin gasped through the grey fog of dust, trying to put something together fast. "Par-Salian gave you the Device for precisely that purpose-"
"We had no idea how to use it!" Caramon roared and- gods- put his hand on his sword. "Who are you?"
Abyss. Even Tasslehoff was looking at Caramon in astonishment. "I think that's Raistlin, Caramon," he tried tentatively, "Did you hit your head?" Tasslehoff took in a breath. "I'm Tass-le-hoff, I'm your friend-"
"Did Par-Salian not show you how to use it?" The wind picked up, the air cleared a little, and Raistlin managed to take a good breath. "I assume the Head of the Conclave had a better plan that you using it to hit people over the head with-"
Caramon hesitated. Tasslehoff continued, "And that's Raist-lin, he's your brother, you're twins-"
Three clerics ran past them, holding buckets. The refectory was on fire. Raistlin looked around. A cyclone was tearing over the roofs of the city- not quite touching ground yet, but tearing up roof tiles.
"Yeah," Caramon said finally. "But you've been-" he looked at Crysania, she glanced at Raistlin, and nodded. Gods-damned piece of-
"And that's lady Cry-sa-ni-a, she's got a crush on Raistlin but he-"
"I know!" Caramon roared. "Shut up and let me think!"
The ground rumbled under their feet. Raistlin gritted his teeth. "We do not have time." He looked at Tasslehoff, but the kender's face was set, stubborn.
Oh to the Abyss with it, he could drop these two idiots off at the right time but in the wrong place. Let them swim back from Istar. They would all return to their past selves within an hour anyway. "You wish to come with me? Come now."
Caramon hesitated; Raistlin turned and started back to the temple, heart hammering. After a moment- thank the insane gods- they started after him, hurrying to keep up.
"The temple is collapsing," Crysania gasped. "Where are you-"
"Come!" Raistlin choked. The corridor was crumbling around them. He had to half run through the mass of fallen plaster and broken beams. A lamp fell from the ceiling and burst into flame, catching on a fallen tapestry. "Quickly!"
They were all running. The ground cracked under them and Caramon cried out, stumbling. Raistlin didn't turn around, keeping one eye on Tasslehoff as the kender deftly dodged around debris and hopped over shattered stones-
"Look out!" He wasn't sure who said it first- him or Caramon- but the kender slipped, one foot lodged in a crack and the Device spun out of his hands, scattering gemstone light across the floor before a wall sagged drunkenly, and collapsed on top of it.
"Oh no!" Tasslehoff pushed himself up, pulled his foot free, and ran after the Device. "Wait a minute-"
Raistlin glanced at Caramon in horror, and for once the big man understood. He grabbed Tasslehoff by the back of his vest and dragged him to his feet. "C'mon-" He growled.
Ignoring the kender's wails, Raistlin found the door. Pulled it open- the staircase was still clear, the earthquakes had not yet breached Fistandantilus' spells. "Down here."
The stone was sound, but the torches had long since fallen down. Raistlin lifted his staff. "Shirak."
Behind them, there was a deafening, final grinding crash and top levels of the temple imploded, barring the way out with tons of marble. Caramon and Crysania looked up in horror, but Raistlin smiled tightly. Now they had no choice but to follow him, or be left forever in the darkness.
Down and down and down. Through the door to the laboratory and the gleaming, welcoming sight of his circle, safe and secure. Raistlin hurried quickly and righted the fallen stave, started clearing away the worst of the debris. It was still whole, thank the gods. He should have done it down here to begin with, using his chamber for the spell was just asking for trouble-
"What's that?!" Crysania stared, aghast.
Oh yes, that would be why. Raistlin pulled a face. Two months had not improved Fistandantilus. The flesh had rotted and flowed half off the bones of its skull, pooling up like folds of decomposing fabric. The eyes had swollen and burst in their sockets, milky blank and hatching adult flies. Its ribcage was open to the air, the tail of the bloodstone's chain trailing out like lost entrails. The smell was intolerable; the air was heavy with blowflies.
"The previous owner." Raistlin smiled, tight and satisfied.
Caramon stopped, staring at Raistlin. "And who was that?"
Raistlin turned; about to snap that this was not the time- and for a moment, saw what the big man meant.
Fistandantilus' hair was long and white, his undead body thin as Raistlin's. They were not far apart in height. And his skin was blotched green and black with decomposition, and so lost under mould, rot and insect eggs that it was anyone's guess what colour it had been. "No one that matters-"
"Who was that?!" Caramon roared, his sword hissed as he pulled it from his scabbard. "What did you do!"
A crack from above them. Caramon stopped. They all looked up. Raistlin lifted his staff. The cracks were small, fine as hairs. The stonework was ancient, warded and bespelled over the centuries- but the gods were angry, and their wrath was overcoming even Fistandantilus' magic.
"Use that, and we all die," Raistlin said flatly. Ignoring them, he lifted his hands, and started the final spells to activate the circle.
"Come on Caramon," Tasslehoff whispered. "You know that's Raistlin. We'll go home and everything'll be fine. We'll see Flint again, and Sturm-"
Caramon said nothing, but slowly sheathed his sword. He walked slowly with the kender over to the circle. Crysania followed. Raistlin nodded, glanced around, one last time. He smiled at the lich's corpse. Goodbye, you old monster, I'm coming back to kill you all over again. Two deaths are still less than what you deserve.
The last few words of the spell dropped from his lips. The circle glowed, the stones started to sing. He heard the high, wild piping of Nuitari's broken symbol, the lower, deeper moan of the Balakan branches. His own blood, winding through the River, calling to his home. The Balakan grove, calling to the magic. The obsidian, reaching out to Wayreth. Place, substance, time. Past. Present. Future.
Dust spiralled down from the ceiling, shards of stone. The portal flickered, its bright white light tainting grey. Raistlin stared in horror. "Quickly! Before the spell fails!"
For once, Caramon and Crysania did exactly what he ordered, they rushed through the portal. Raistlin shoved Tasslehoff through as the kender stopped to look up- the cracks were starting to grow. The temple above was gone- the only thing above them was sky-
Sky, and a huge, blazing mountain, urged down with all the hatred of the gods.
Raistlin closed his eyes, and threw himself through the portal.
The ceiling fell in. In the dying, burning light of the sky, Fistandantilus' dead face was pulled up into a rictus smile.
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