Abyss

You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You are the revelation

No Light No Light, Florence + the Machine

The darkness in this dungeon was little different from the one he had just left, but Raistlin blinked hard anyway, trying to focus. He stepped through the darkness, down the rows of cells on either side. He was a shadow himself, and what was one more shadow in this place? No one even saw him.

But he saw them. The cells were full of Dewar. Hostages perhaps? But then Raistlin smelled the rot, the sickness, and threw a sleeve over his mouth out of pure instinct.

He could almost hear Meggin snapping at him not to bother, pushing a bowl of water at him to wash his hands before and after touching the sick. The memory was so sudden, so unexpected, that Raistlin almost smiled. He tucked his hands in his sleeves, and checked each cell carefully. Hopefully, Tasslehoff would not have been in there long enough to fall ill. Had he been sick before? Raistlin tried to remember, but he thought the kender had been away from Solace when the plague had struck.

Then he heard the sharp, high voice, coming from one of the end cells. "Not really a bad place, sounds like, maybe takes a bit getting used to, and I don't suppose they'd be wildly happy to see you again, but I think it's definitely worth a try."

Then another voice, coming in the ponderous, deliberately slow tone gnomes used. "Very well, just let me make an adjustment-"

Oh dear gods no! Raistlin started to run. Not the gnome! He'd be picking parts of the Device off the floor-

He ran straight through the cell door, and ended the spell with a word, bursting back to himself in the choking, boiling air. "Do not touch it!" It came out as a roar.

The Gnome stopped, and – thank whatever gods still had some liking for him – he hadn't had time to do anything to the Device. It was a simple, plain pendant in his hands. Raistlin couldn't take his eyes off it. His way home.

"Raistlin!" Tasslehoff's eyes lit up. Then, "Look out!"

The Dewar jumped out of the shadows, a blade in his hand. Raistlin snapped a hand up and the cell filled with cries at the flash of burning light. The dwarf was gone, and Raistlin's boots gritted across the ash of his body. Tasslehoff stared. "It's – uh, good to see you." He tried for a smile, but it trembled. "You – you're okay now, right? I mean, I thought I saw the dwarf stab you – but you're okay! So I was wrong. That can happen-"

Raistlin ignored him, and turned to the gnome. "Where did you get that?" He looked at the pendant in his hands. His mouth watered. His hands ached.

The gnome didn't answer, glowering suspiciously at Raistlin. His hands tightened on the Device, moving as thought to start manipulating it. "Do not do that." Raistlin said, voice dropping to a deadly softness. His hands trembled to snatch it from the gnome's grasp – and didn't dare for fear it would be damaged in the struggle.

The gnome stopped. "Who's this one?" He turned to Tasslehoff.

"Right um-" Tasslehoff blinked. He was pale, starting to sweat. Kender were clearly not immune to the plague. "Gnimsh, this is Raistlin. He's a – a friend of mine." The gnome believed this not at all. "Raistlin, this is Gnimsh. He's the one you asked me to find. He said he found the pendant in the Abyss!"

"The Abyss?" But then that too was forgotten and Raistlin heart crawled as the gnome's hands went to the mechanism again, flicking it open. No. Not like this. He would not have his last hope torn away like this. He stepped closer, the gnome backed away. "Give it to me!"

"Raistlin!" Tasslehoff's eyes were wide. "It's okay! He fixed it! He made it so it can carry more than one person. It took us out of Thorbardin the first time-"

"It destroyed Zhaman," Raistlin said flatly. "It killed both armies and everyone in them."

The gnome's eyes lit up. "It did?" He looked down at the open Device. "Finally." He breathed. "Something went wrong."

"You will give it to me now," Raistlin said steadily, with a calm he didn't feel. Being this close to the Device was like tiptoeing past a sleeping dragon. This was his way home, his one way out of this madness and it was lying there, open and vulnerable to this Gnome madman. "Give it now!"

The gnome tightened his grip on the pendant, scowled. "You don't understand. It didn't work! Everything I've made before has worked, and now," he looked down lovingly at the Device, "I can go home. I won't be upsetting scientific development with all my successes."

Raistlin would have felt sympathy, but not now and not here. Right now, this gnome had the Device and might do Takhisis only knew what with it. "Give. It. Here." He whispered.

"It hasn't done all that yet, Gnimsh," Tasslehoff said hesitantly, edging away from Raistlin. "It's going to blow up Zhaman and everything in a ten mile radius-"

"How?" Gnimsh's eyes were shining. "How did it happen? I need to know – what did I get wrong?"

"I will not ask again." Raistlin glanced at the door, the dark dwarves were staying as far back as they could – some seemed to be trying to dig holes in the walls for an extra few inches – but anyone could come at any time.

"I have to see." The gnome started to move the parts of the pendant, unfurling the component parts, shifting them to new, strange forms. The whole thing trembled, trying to resist but the gnome's grip was too strong. "What could have happened-"

No! Raistlin's arm snapped out, and he pulled out the spell. It was not one of his.

The gnome went rigid as Raistlin tore into his mind. His body trembled, a low moan coming from his lips, like a death rattle.

Change it back! Raistlin roared in his head. He had screamed at gods like this, at Fistandantilus' dead shade. It was almost too much for the gnome. His eyes blotched red as the capillaries burst, blood dripped from his nose.

"Stop it!" Tasslehoff shouted, he tried to pull at Raistlin's robes, but he was small, and weak from plague, Raistlin shrugged him off.

Do it now! The gnome's hands shook, but they moved. Opening the device and moving the jewels, the parts sliding easily over each other, components pulling free and finding new homes within the structure, until the shaking, gasping gnome was holding the completed pendant. Whole and perfect and so sweet Raistlin could have wept.

"Give it to me." He held out a hand, and the gnome gave him the device. Raistlin closed his fingers around the gold, the silver, the jewels. Home. His way home. His escape from this madness. He tucked it around his neck and under his robes.

He withdrew from the gnome's mind and Gnimsh collapsed, choking on blood. Tasslehoff rushed up to him, tried to pull him upright. "What did you do to him?" he wailed, tried to shake the gnome awake. The gnome's eyes were rolled back, mottled red and white, weeping tears of blood. "Why did you do it? We could have gone home!"

"We are not going anywhere," Raistlin snarled. "I am going home. You are coming with me back to Caramon's army."

Tasslehoff stopped, and looked at him. His eyes were wide, lost. Gnimsh fell from his hands to the floor; the gnome shivered once, then lay still. "You killed him," Tasslehoff breathed. "You just-" His mouth trembled. "You killed him."

Raistlin stepped over the gnome's body and gripped Tasslehoff's shirt. "You will be coming with me. I still need you to make sure I can safely escape this place."

"Let me go!" Tasslehoff shrieked. "You're evil! You're just like Caramon said you were! You're horrible and ugly and I won't go anywhere with you! Ever! Let me go! Let me go!"

The words kicked something loose inside Raistlin's chest, something horrified that had been locked tight by desperation and anger. He clenched his teeth. Not now, he could wonder over what he had done later. Tasslehoff wailed and wept, trying to pull free and only tangling himself in Raistlin's robes. Raistlin flicked a little sand in his face, spoke a few words, and the kender was slumped in his hands.

Not long now. Raistlin promised himself, as they flickered out of the dungeons and back to Zhaman. Only a few hours. Then he would be home. Home at last.

The jump back to Zhaman shook him; he had spent enough magic to feel a little lightheaded from the loss of carrying himself and the kender.

"I told you he would be down here." The voice came from barely a step behind him. Raistlin started forward in surprise, letting Tasslehoff go. "Paladine warned me of his plans."

Then something hit the back of Raistlin's head, so hard stars blazed behind his eyes before being swallowed by darkness.

He woke, some weightless, uncertain time later. Something wet and foul had been rammed between his teeth, and fastened there behind his head. He tried to move, to get up, but he was tied tight to a chair. His head felt heavy and his stomach lurched. Raistlin swallowed, tasting his own blood, trying to keep the bile down. Suffocating in his own vomit was not the end he'd planned for.

A moan, from somewhere just beyond him. Raistlin blinked a few times and the blurred, shadowed world slowly resolved itself. He was still in the dungeons, in a corner of one of the cells. A flicker of light suddenly burst out from the centre of the room and Raistlin curled up, trying to cover his aching eyes. But he had been tied very securely, and couldn't move. Raistlin closed his eyes, forced his breath to even out, pushed down the panic. He could still feel the pendant inside his robes; they hadn't found it yet.

The light blazed out again, Raistlin cracked an eye open and squinted through the glare. Tasslehoff was lying on a table in the middle of the dungeons, and Crysania was leaning over him, calling down the light of Paladine to heal him.

And leaning against the wall, watching them, was Caramon.

Raistlin's head pounded at the sight of him, the memory of the blow his brother had dealt him. Raistlin tried to open his mouth and get his teeth into the gag. It might take some time to bite through, but it was not as though Raistlin had anything better to do, tied up in here-

Caramon turned and looked at him, eyes cold. Tasslehoff wailed, "- killed Gnimsh- blood- everywhere-"

"Yes, yes." Crysania soothed him, "He can't hurt you now, kender. You're safe. Let the light of Paladine heal you."

"Why didn't you do something?" Tasslehoff moaned. "Fizban-"

Crysania glanced at Caramon, who shrugged. "Better put him to sleep," Caramon grunted. "Don't want him running around in the middle of the battle."

Crysania nodded slowly, and reached down a hand to touch Tasslehoff's head. "No-" the kender wailed, "Fizban-" and broke off, asleep again.

"You're awake." Caramon walked over to Raistlin. Raistlin looked up, narrowed his eyes. Gods, for a spell that needed no words, no motions – but there were none, and Caramon smiled, a twist of his mouth. "Tasslehoff told us you were planning to leave for good."

"Paladine warned us of your intentions," Crysania put in, folding her hands before her demurely. "We thought it best to act first."

And Caramon – drew his sword. Raistlin stared at it, half hypnotized. This was it then? He was going to die here, out of his time, by the hand of his mad twin. The pendant pressed against his chest, the futile, worthless promise of escape. He closed his eyes as the blade whispered past his face, close enough to shear through his worn robes-

But it only bit through the ropes binding him to the chair, leaving his hands still tied behind his back. His brother knew him best, didn't he? Damn him.

Caramon pushed him out of the chair, letting him hit the ground face-first, then grabbing him by the back of his robes. "The army is gone," Caramon growled. "Just like you said. The supply wagons are lost. There are barely enough of us to hold Zhaman."

He paused, Raistlin glowered at him, was he expecting him to answer? "The forces of Thorbardin are coming." Crysania said walking up to stand beside Caramon. "We have little time."

Raistlin gritted something senseless through the gag. If they wanted him to cast their blasted spells, they couldn't leave him like this. "Later." Crysania nodded. "Paladine gave me the strength to behold where we must go. I know the spells you are to cast. Speak out of turn, and Caramon will kill you, Fistandantilus."

Raistlin jerked his hands, Caramon glanced at Crysania, and she nodded. He cut the ropes around Raistlin's hands, but before Raistlin could try and pull away, his hand snatched tight around his wrist. Caramon twisted Raistlin's arm behind his back and Raistlin felt the insane urge to start laughing. Laugh because oh, wasn't this so familiar? How many times had he been pinned face-first against a vallenwood, some idiot playmate of his brother's yanking his arm up, behind his back-

And then, as though fitting in perfectly with that long ago-time, Caramon's voice, "Can't cast like that, can you?"

But it wouldn't have been Caramon, would it? Caramon would have charged in, boxed the boy's ears and sent him off with a promise that he could play later, but leave Raist alone, okay?

Funny, that Caramon had been so happy to play with the boys who would gladly beat Raistlin into the dirt. Raistlin had once thought all children would happily do that – but it didn't seem to happen much with his classmates at Theobald's. Maybe there had been a reason for that. Maybe his brother had just liked playing the hero that much.

It – it had never been about him, had it? It had always been about Caramon, and how well Raistlin could reflect his need to be the strong one, the good brother, the one person he needed. Just as well Caramon had never been the one with the knowledge of herbs, or Raistlin would have been getting mysteriously sick a lot more.

How had he ever been so stupid as to turn his back on his twin?

Tasslehoff gave a weak cry as they walked out. Raistlin pulled the gag free and swallowed a few times to wet his throat. Caramon drove the tip of his sword into the back of his neck. "Don't say a word, Fistandantilus," Caramon warned.

Raistlin pretended to cough, once, twice; Caramon's sword drew back a little, and Raistlin reached out to press a hand on his chest. His chest – and the pendant under his robes. Crysania was walking ahead, Caramon behind. Raistlin shoved a hand inside his robes and started to fiddle with the pendant, slotting the jewels and moving parts by touch and memory. The Device started to grow heavy, snatched tight around his neck. It was working. His mouth moved, trying to hide his words in the footsteps, the crash of coming battle outside.

"Thy time is thy own, through it you travel, its expanses you see-"

They marched him up the stairs, down the corridor and – Raistlin stopped. Caramon's sword drove between his shoulder-blades, almost impaling him. Caramon snarled and shoved Raistlin forward, blood running down from the shallow cut against his backbone. Raistlin barely noticed; his throat spasmed in what might have been a laugh or a sob. At last, this was it. His gallows. The platform where Fistandantilus was waiting to behead him. He had walked it again and again in dreams, and now, he was finally here.

The Portal loomed over him. The dragons' heads reared, mocking laughter between their bared teeth. Crysania mounted the steps first, stood before the Portal and bowed her head, opening herself to the god's blessings that would open the gate.

Raistlin looked up. There was no Fistandantilus, no axe. Just the Portal, and Caramon's sword snatching tight against the back of his neck. "Go on," Caramon growled. "It's time. You killed my brother. This is what you owe him."

Raistlin closed his eyes. He could make it work. He could activate the pendant and escape before the explosions destroyed Zhaman. If he didn't, they would all be blown to pieces, which felt almost second best right now. He dug his nails into the Device, so close and yet so far. He could feel the spell, waiting, the power gathering around the Device. Raistlin closed his eyes and forced it still, stretching out the tension of it and clenching a hand to hold it in place, waiting.

He looked at the Black dragon's head. "From darkness to darkness, my voice echoes in the emptiness."

He could feel the trapped power of the pendant, the power he had poured into it struggling to escape as his focus wavered, caught between both spells. He hissed the next words out between his teeth, twisting the half deconstructed pendant, "whirling across forever-"

The dragon's heads dimmed. Crysania turned, frowning. "What are you doing?" Caramon growled, grabbing the back of his robes and half strangling Raistlin. "That's not the spell-" He glanced at Crysania, who nodded coldly.

"Cast it, black mage," she said icily. "Finish the spell."

The White dragon's head seemed to lean in, grinning hungrily. "From this world to the next," Raistlin dragged the words out reluctantly, he needed more time. "My voice cries with life."

Nothing. Even the battle outside seemed to have ceased. Raistlin gripped the pendant; he could feel the chain beating inside his robes, against his chest. Ready for the next words to be spoken. He looked up at the Red dragon's head, its bared teeth a rictus challenge. He felt the magic in the pendant start to fade as he spoke "From darkness to darkness I shout. Beneath my feet, all is made firm-"

"Stop!"

Oh, thank you. Thank you. God of kenders, whoever you are, I thank you. Tasslehoff was wavering, half out of his mind with residual fever. He stumbled forwards, looking around. "What are you doing?"

"Get away, Tas!" Caramon lowered his sword as the kender blundered up to them.

Raistlin grabbed the pendant, whispering quickly, "Obstruct not its flow, grasp firmly the end and the beginning-"

Caramon turned, and Raistlin quickly turned his eyes to the Blue dragon's head. "Time that flows, hold in your course."

"Stop this!" Tasslehoff grabbed Caramon's arms. "Why are you doing this?"

"He killed your friend!" Caramon snapped.

"Turn them forward upon themselves," Raistlin hissed, twisting the device together – it was beginning to feel like a sceptre. He quickly pulled the chain off his neck, letting it wind up within the Device. "All that is loose shall be secure-"

"He has something!" Crysania shouted, Caramon tried to pull free, but Tasslehoff was wild, clinging tight.

"This isn't better!" he wailed. "Make it stop! Caramon! Why can't we all go home! Raistlin, you said we could go home-"

"Stop it-" Caramon roared, and threw Tasslehoff down. The kender hit the ground hard. There was a crack, and Raistlin tried not to wince. Tasslehoff gave a soft, broken little moan. Caramon hesitated, looking down at the hurt kender, then turned his back. "Finish it!" He pressed the sword blade against Raistlin's neck.

Raistlin gritted his teeth, the Portal was glowing, the Device so hot against his chest that he could almost smell his own singed two magics clung to each other, wound over and over like sick serpents, tensed, potent, prepared to burst forth. The Portal was almost too bright to see, and Caramon and Crysania stopped, staring in awe, Caramon's sword drooped. Raistlin seized his chance. "Destiny be-"

Caramon lashed down with his sword and caught his hand. Raistlin cried out and his robes tore down the front. He pulled the Device free. Caramon lunged for it, Raistlin pulled it away, his grip on the sceptre slippery – he needed to finish the spell – he needed to lift it over his head and-

And he could taste the magic turning bad. The magic of the Device turned suddenly in his hand, like a snake, and buried fangs into the heavy, suffocating magic of the Portal. The Portal flared and shimmered, the dragons' mouths gaped in horror. Crysania stopped her prayers. Raistlin pulled at the Device, "Over thy own-"

It was dying, both spells, dying and in their deaths, twisting into something far worse. The Device twisted between Raistlin's hands and he cried out as something sharp dug into his hands. It trembled, like a dying horse, like ground before an earthquake-

"Head," Raistlin finished, helplessly, hopelessly, a heartbeat before Caramon snatched the Device for his hands. He clung to it, with his magic, holding it even as it turned and snarled and bit into him with unseen teeth.

The magic tore into the opening mouth of the Portal. Raistlin turned in horror. At the gaping maw of the gate, the dragon heads were laughing, laughing in roaring, hacking spasms.

Caramon stumbled back, the Device flaring out coruscating blasts of light and magic. Tasslehoff screamed something senseless and grabbed him one handed, the other hanging uselessly at his side. With a flash, the crazed Device activated, and the two vanished. Crysania cried out; she was struggling to call down enough power to hold the Portal open. Drawing in more and more to feed the explosion that would tear them both to pieces.

No. Not both. Crysania would die, but it would not be so easy for him, oh no. He could feel the Dark Queen's triumph, like blazing heat through the shattered Portal. He would be sent to Fistandantilus' prison-world and await the next steps of his fate. Unable to escape. Unable even to die-

"No!" Raistlin screamed, magic and words and will and fire pouring out. He snatched up the magic, Fistandantilus' magic, and a magic that came only from deep inside him, hungry and fierce and burning. He lashed out and seized the wildfire power, holding it, reining it in, long enough to step up to the Portal.

Staring in, he could see his intended fate, in flashes. Trapped for hundreds of years, Fistandantilus' memories dragged up until they devoured him, until he would be the undead thing in more than name. Then the gods could rest easy, he would play his role, he would attack himself, rot himself from the inside, play out the whole, hideous nightmare all over again-

The field held. Raistlin looked at Crysania, who shied back for a moment – but he caught her arm, fingers driving into her flesh. She was the one who had wanted to go. She was the one who wanted this. She had helped to rob him of every other option.

He could feel the Dark Queen, Her amusement turning to shock, to fear. This was not right. This was not what was meant to happen-

No. Raistlin snarled back. But it is happening, oh Takhisis. This is what is happening now. His blood burned with fire, his body trembled with hate. This was what was, stripped of all illusions, all dreams and hopes. The world a shadow play of crying, terrified puppets in the hands of laughing monsters.

You forced me to walk this path. Raistlin drew in a breath, tasted maddened magic, ash, his own blood. The field trembled, threatened to slip free- You forced me to speak these words, now listen, oh Great Ones.

Raistlin closed his eyes and took the step, out of the world, and into the next.

"Weep ye all with me, because by fate even the gods are cast down."