The Magic Of Krynn (30 page)

much pain and heartbreak. By the gods, he'd do it! Let them try to stop him! Caramon

clasped the hilt of his sword and took a step backward, glancing around at his sons. The
two older boys moved to leave. Only Palin remained standing still, a grave, thoughtful
expression on his face that Caramon could not read. It reminded him of someone though.
Caramon could almost hear Raistlin's whispering voice, “GO IF YOU WANT TO, MY DEAR
BROTHER. LOSE YOURSELF IN THE MAGICAL FOREST OF WAYRETH AS YOU MOST SURELY WILL WITHOUT
ME. I INTEND TO REMAIN ...”

No. He would not hear his son say those words. Flushing, his heart constricting painfully,
Caramon seated himself heavily in the chair. “Say what you have to say,” he repeated.

“Almost thirty years ago, Raistlin Majere came here to take his Test,” Justarius began.
“Once inside the Tower, taking his Test, he was contacted by-”

“We know that,” Caramon growled.

“Some of us do,” Justarius replied. “Some of us do not.” His gaze went to Palin. “Or at
least, they do not know the entire story. The Test was difficult for Raistlin-it is
difficult for all of us who take it, isn't it?”

Dalamar did not speak, but his pale face went a shade paler, the slanted eyes were
clouded. All traces of laughter had vanished from Dunbar s face. His gaze went to Palin
and he almost imperceptibly shook his head.

“Yes,” Justarius continued softly, absently rubbing his leg with his hand as though it
pained him. "The test is difficult. But it is not impossible. Par-Salian and the Heads of
the Orders would not have granted Raistlin permission to take it-as young as he was-if

they had not deemed it likely that he would succeed. And he would have! Yes, Caramon!
There is not a doubt in my mind or in the minds of any who were present that day and
witnessed it. Your twin had the strength and the skill to succeed on his own. But he chose
the easy way, the sure way-he accepted the help of an evil wizard, the greatest of our
order who ever lived- Fistandantilus."

“Fistandantilus,” Justarius repeated, his eyes on Pa-lin. “His magic having gone awry, he
died at Skullcap Mountain. But he was powerful enough to defeat death itself. His spirit
survived, on another plane, waiting to find a body it could inhabit. And he found that
body. He found Raistlin.”

Caramon sat silently, his eyes fixed on Justarius, his face red, his jaw muscles stiff. He
felt a hand on his shoulder and, glancing up, saw Palin, who had come to stand behind him.
Leaning down,

Palin whispered, “We can go, father. I'm sorry. I was wrong to make you come. We don't
have to listen . . .”

Justarius sighed. “Yes, young mage, you do have to listen, I am afraid. You must hear the
truth!”

Palin started, flushing at hearing his words repeated. Reaching up, Caramon gripped his
son's hand reassuringly. “We know the truth,” he growled. “That evil wizard took my
brother's soul! And you mages let him!”

“No, Caramon!” Justarius's fist clenched, his gray brows drew together. “Raistlin made a
deliberate choice to turn his back upon the light and embrace the darkness. Fistandantilus
gave him the power to pass the Test and, in exchange, Raistlin GAVE Fistandantilus part of
his life force in order to help the liche's spirit survive. THAT is what shattered his
body-not the Test. Raistlin said it himself, Caramon! 'This is the sacrifice I made for my
magic!' How many times did you hear him say those words!”

“Enough!” Scowling, Caramon stood up. “It was Par-Salian's fault. No matter what evil my
twin did after that, you mages started him down the path he eventually walked.” Motioning
to his sons, Caramon turned upon his heel and walked rapidly from the chamber, heading for
what he hoped (in this strange place) was the way out.

“No!” Justarius rose unsteadily to his feet, unable to put his full weight upon his
crippled left leg. But his voice was powerful, thundering through the chamber. “Listen and
understand, Caramon Majere! You must, or you will regret it bitterly!”

Caramon stopped. Slowly, he turned around, but only half- way. “Is this a threat?” he
asked, glaring at Justarius over his shoulder.

“No threat, at least not one we make,” Justarius said. “Think, Caramon! Don't you see the
danger? It happened once, it can happen again!”

“I don't understand,” Caramon said stubbornly, his hand on his sword, still considering.

Like a snake uncoiling to strike, Dalamar leaned forward in his chair. “Yes, you do!” His
voice was soft and lethal. “You understand. Don't ask for us to tell you details, for we
cannot. But know this-by certain signs we have seen and certain contacts we have made in
realms beyond this one, we have reason to believe that Raistlin lives-much as did
Fistandantilus. He seeks a way back into this world. He needs a body to inhabit. And you,
his beloved twin, have thoughtfully provided him with one-young, strong, and already
trained in magic.”

Dalamar's words sank into Caramon's flesh like poisoned fangs. “Your son . . .”

Justarius resumed his seat, easing himself into the great stone chair carefully. Smoothing
the folds of his red robes about him with hands that looked remarkably young for his age,
he spoke to Caramon, though his eyes were on the white-robed young man standing at his
father's side. “Thus you see, Caramon Majere, that we cannot possibly let your
son-Raistlin's nephew-continue to study magic and take the Test without first making
certain that his uncle cannot use this young man to gain entry back into the world.”

“Especially,” added Dunbar gravely, “since the young man's loyalties to one particular
Order have yet to be established.”

“What do you mean?” Caramon frowned. “Take the Test? He's long way from taking the Test.
And as for his loyalties, he chose to wear the White Robes-”

“You and Mother chose that I wear the White Robes,” Palin said evenly, his eyes avoiding
his father. When only hurt silence answered him, Palin made an irritated gesture. “Oh,
come now. Father. You know as well as I do that you wouldn't have considered letting me
study magic under any other conditions. I knew better than to even ask!”

“But the young man must declare the allegiance that is in his heart. Only then can he use
the true power of his magic. And he must do this during his Test,” Dun-bar said gently.

“Test! What is this talk of the Test! I tell you he hasn't even made up his mind whether
or not to take the damn thing. And if I have anything to say about it-” Caramon stopped
speaking abruptly, his gaze going to his son's face. Palin stared at the stone floor, his
cheeks flushed, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Well, never mind that,” Caramon muttered, drawing a deep breath. Behind him, he could
hear his other two sons shuffling nervously, the rattle of Tanin's sword, Sturm's soft
cough. He was acutely aware, too, of the wizards watching him, especially of Dala-mar's
cynical smile. If only he and Palin could be alone! Caramon sighed. It was something they
should have talked about before this, he supposed. But he kept hoping. . . .

Turning his back on the wizards, he faced his youngest son. “What . . . what other loyalty
would you choose, Palin?” he asked

belatedly, trying to make amends. “You're a good person, son! You enjoy helping people,
serving others! White seems obvious...”

“I don't know whether I enjoy serving others or not,” Palin cried impatiently, losing
control. “You thrust me into this role, and look where it has gotten me! You admit
yourself that I am not as strong or skilled in magic as my uncle was at my age. That was
because he devoted his life to study! He let nothing interfere with it. It seems to me a
man must put the magic first, the world second . . .”

Closing his eyes in pain, Caramon listened to his son's words, but he heard them spoken by
another voice-a soft, whispering voice, a shattered voice - A MAN MUST PUT THE MAGIC
FIRST, THE WORLD SECOND. BY DOING ANYTHING ELSE, HE LIMITS HIMSELF AND HIS POTENTIAL-

He felt a hand grasp his arm. “Father, I'm sorry,” Palin said softly. “I would have
discussed it with you, but I knew how much it would hurt you. And then there's Mother.”
The young man sighed. “You know mother . . .”

“Yes,” said Caramon in a choked voice, reaching out and grasping his son in his big arms,
“I know your mother.” Clearing his throat, he tried to smile. “She might have thrown
something at you-she did me once-most of my armor as I recall. But her aim is terrible,
especially when it's someone she loves. . . .”

Caramon couldn't go, but stood holding his son. Looking over his shoulder at the wizards,
he asked harshly, “Is this necessary, right now? Let us go home and talk about it. Why
can't we wait-”

“Because this night there is a rare occurrence,” Justa-rius answered. “The silver moon,
the black, and the red are all three in the sky at the same time. The power of magic is
stronger this night than it has been in a century. If Raistlin has the ability to call
upon the magic and escape the Abyss-it could be on a night like this.”

Caramon bowed his head, his hand stroking his son's auburn hair. Then, his arm around
Palin's shoulder, he turned to face the wizards, his face grim.

“Very well,” he said huskily, “what do you want us to do?”

“You must return with me to the Tower in Palan-thas,” said Dalamar. “And there, we will
attempt to enter the Portal-”

“The Tower? Let us ride as far as the Shoikan Grove with you. Father,” Tanin pleaded.

“Yes!” added Sturm eagerly. “You'll need us, you know you will. The road to Palanthas is
open, the Knights see to that, but we've had reports from Porthios of draconian parties,
lying in ambush-”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, warriors,” said Dalamar, a slight smile upon his lips, “but
we will not be using the roads between here and Palanthas. Conventional roads, that is,”
he amended.

Both the young men looked confused. Glancing warily at the dark elf, Tanin frowned as
though he suspected a trick.

Palin patted Tanin's arm. “He means magic, my brother. Before you and Sturm reach the
front entry-way, Father and I will be standing in Dalamar's study in the Tower of High
Sorcery in Palanthas-the Tower my uncle claimed as his own,” he added softly. Palin had
not meant anyone to hear his last words, but- glancing around-he caught Dalamar's intense,
knowing gaze.

“Yes, that's where we'll be,” muttered Caramon, his face darkening at the thought. “And
you two will be on your way home,” he added, eyeing his older sons sternly. “You have to
tell your mother-”

“I'd rather face ogres,” said Tanin gloomily.

“Me, too,” Caramon said with a grin that ended in a sigh. Leaning down suddenly to make
certain his pack was cinched tightly, he kept his face carefully in the shadows. “Just
make certain she's not standing where she can get hold of the crockery,” he said, keeping
his voice carefully light.

“She knows me. She's been expecting this. In fact, I think she knew when we left,” Palin
said, remembering his mother's tender hug and cheery smile as she stood at the door to the
Inn, waving at them with an old towel. Glancing behind him as they had been rid- ing out
of town, Palin recalled seeing that towel cover his mother's face, her friend Dezra's arms
going around her comfortingly.

“Besides,” said Caramon, standing up to glare at his older two sons, his tone now severe,
“you both promised Porthios you'd go to Qualinesti and help the elves handle those
draconian raiding parties. You know what Porthios is like. It took him ten years to even
speak to us. Now he's showing signs of being friendly. I won't have sons of mine going
back on their word, especially to that stiff-necked elf. No of tense,” he said, glancing
at Dalamar.

“None taken,” said the dark elf. “I know Porthios. And now-”

“We're ready,” interrupted Palin, an eager look on his face as he turned to Dalamar. “I've
read about this spell you're going to cast, of course, but I've never seen it done. What
components do you use? And do you inflect the first syllable of the first word, or the
second? My Master says-”

Dalamar coughed gently. “You are giving away our secrets, young one,” he said in smooth
tones. "Come, speak

your questions to me in private." Placing his delicate hand upon Palin's arm, the dark elf
drew the young man away from his father and brothers.

“Secrets?” said Palin, mystified. “What do you mean? It doesn't matter if they hear-”

“That was an excuse,” Dalamar said coldly. Standing in front of the young man, he looked
at Palin intently, his eyes dark and serious. “Palin, don't do this. Return home with your
father and brothers.”

“What do you mean?” Palin said, staring at Dalamar in confusion. “I can't do that. You
heard Justarius. They won't let me take my Test or even keep on studying until we know for
certain that Raistlin is ... is ...”

“Don't take the Test,” Dalamar said swiftly. “Give up your studies. Go home. Be content
with what you are.”

“No!” Palin said angrily. “What do you take me for? Do you think I'd be happy entertaining
at country fairs, pulling rabbits out of hats and golden coins out of fat men's ears? I
want more than that!”

“The price of such ambition is great, as your uncle discovered.”

“And so are the rewards!” Palin returned. “I have made up my mind . . .”

“Young one”-Dalamar leaned close to the young man, placing his cold hand upon Palin's arm.
His voice dropped to a whisper so soft that Palin wasn't certain he heard its words spoken
or in his mind- “why do you think they are sending you-truly?” His gaze went to Justarius
and Dunbar, who were standing apart, conferring together. “To somehow enter the Portal and
find your uncle-or what's left of him? No”-Dalamar shook his head-“that is impossible. The
room is locked, one of the Guardians stands constant watch with instructions to let no one
in, to kill any who tries. THEY know that, just as they KNOW Raistlin lives! They are
sending you to the Tower-HIS Tower-for one reason. Do you know the old legend about using
a young goat to net a dragon?”

Staring at Dalamar in disbelief, Palin's face suddenly drained of all color.

“I see you understand,” Dalamar said coolly, folding his hands in the sleeves of his black
robes. 'The hunter tethers the young goat in front of the dragon's lair. While the dragon
devours the goat, the hunters sneak up on him with

their nets and their spears. They catch the dragon. Unfortunately, it is a bit late for
the goat.... Do you still insist on going?"

Palin had a sudden vision of his uncle as he had heard of him in the legends-facing the
evil Fistandan-tilus, feeling the touch of the bloodstone upon his chest as it sought to
draw out his soul, suck out his life. The young man shivered, his body drenched in chill
sweat. “I am strong,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can fight as HE fought-”

“Fight him? The greatest wizard who ever lived? The archmage who challenged the Queen of
Darkness herself and nearly won?” Dalamar laughed mirthlessly. “Bah! You are doomed, young
man. You haven't a prayer. And you know what I will be forced to do if Raistlin succeeds!”
Dalamar's hooded head darted so near Palin that the young man could feel the touch of his
breath upon his cheek. “I must destroy him-I WILL destroy him. I don't care whose body he
inhabits. That's why they're giving you to me. THEY don't have the stomach for it.”

Unnerved, Palin took a step back from the dark elf. Then he caught himself, and stood
still.

“I... understand,” he said, his voice growing firmer as he continued. “I told you that
once. Besides, I don't believe my uncle would harm me in ... the way you say.”

“You don't?” Dalamar appeared amused. His hand moved to his chest. “Would you like to see
what harm your uncle is capable of doing?”

“No!” Palin averted his eyes, then, flushing, he added lamely, “I know about it. I've
heard the story. You betrayed him-”

“And this was my punishment.” The dark elf shrugged. “Very well. If you are determined-”

“I am.”

“-then I suggest you bid farewell to your brothers-a final farewell, if you take my
meaning. For I deem it unlikely that you will meet again in this world.”

The dark elf was matter-of-fact. His eyes held no pity, no remorse. Palin's hands
twitched, his nails dug into his flesh, but he managed to nod firmly.

“You must be careful what you say.” Dalamar glanced meaningfully at Caramon, who was
walking over to Justarius. “Your brothers mustn't suspect. HE mustn't suspect. If he knew,
he would prevent your going. Wait”-Dalamar caught hold of the young man-“pull yourself
together.”

Swallowing, trying to moisten a throat that was parched and aching, Palin pinched his
cheeks to bring the color back and wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his
robe. Then, biting his lips to keep them steady, he turned from Dalamar and walked over to
his brothers.

His white robes rustled around his ankles as he approached them. “Well, brothers,” he
began, forcing himself to smile as his brothers turned to face him, “I'm always standing
on the porch of the Inn, waving good-bye to you two, going off to fight something or
other. Looks like it's my turn now.”

Palin saw Tanin and Sturm exchange swift, alarmed glances and he choked. The three were
close, they knew each other inside out. How can I fool them? he thought bitterly. Seeing
their faces, he knew he hadn't.

“My brothers,” Palin said softly, reaching out his hands. Clasping hold of both of them,
he drew them near. “Don't say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me go! Father wouldn't
understand. It's going to be hard enough for him as it is.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Tanin began severely.

“Oh, shut up!” Sturm muttered. “So we don't understand. Does it matter? Did our little
brother blubber when you went off to your first battle?” Putting his big arms around
Palin, he hugged him tightly. “Good-bye, kid,” he said. 'Take care of yourself and ... and
... don't be gone . . . long. . . .“ Shaking his head, Sturm turned and walked hurriedly
away, wiping his eye and muttering something about ”those damn spell components make me
sneeze!"

But Tanin, the oldest, remained standing beside his brother, staring at him sternly. Palin
looked up at him pleadingly, but Tanin's face grew grim. “No, little brother,” he said.
“You're going to listen.”

Dalamar, watching the two closely, saw the young warrior put his hand on Palin's shoulder.
He could guess what was being said. The dark elf saw Palin drawn away, shaking his head
stubbornly, the young man's features hardening into an impassive mask that Dalamar knew
well. The wizard's hand went to the wounds in his chest. How like Raistlin the young man
was! Like, yet different, as Caramon said. Different as the white moon and the black. . .
. The dark elf's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that Caramon had observed the
conversation between his two sons, and was taking a step toward them. Quickly, Dalamar
interceded. Walking over to Caramon, he placed his slender hand on the big man's arm.