Within a matter of moments, all was over. The white light flickered briefly, beautifully, for one instant. Then it died.
Within the Portal, all was darkness.
Par-Salian wept. His tears fell down upon the stone floor and, at their touch, the Tower shook like a living thing, as if it, too, foresaw its doom and was quaking in horror.
Ignoring the falling stones and the heaving of the rocks, Astinus coolly penned the final words. As of Fourthday, Fifthmonth, Year 358, the world ends.
Then, with a sigh, Astinus started to close the book.
A hand slammed down across the pages.
“No,” said a firm voice, “it will not end here.”
Astinus’s hands trembled, his pen dropped a blot of ink upon the paper, obliterating the last words.
“Caramon... Caramon Majere!” Par-Salian cried, pitifully reaching out to the man with feeble hands. “It was you I heard in the Forest!”
“Did you doubt me?” Caramon growled. Though shocked and horrified by the sight of the wretched wizard and his torment, Caramon found it difficult to feel any compassion for the archmage. Looking at Par-Salian, seeing his lower half turned to marble, Caramon recalled all too clearly his twin’s torment in the Tower, his own torment upon being sent back to Istar with Crysania.
“No, not doubted you!” Par-Salian wrung his hands. “I doubted my own sanity! Cant you understand? How can you be here? How could you have survived the magical battles that destroyed the world?”
“He didn’t,” Astinus said sternly. Having regained his composure, he placed the open book down on the floor at his feet and stood up. Glowering at Caramon, he pointed an accusing finger. “What trick is this? You died! What is the meaning...
Without speaking a word, Caramon dragged Tasslehoff out from behind him. Deeply impressed by the solemnity and seriousness of the occasion, Tas huddled next to Caramon, his wide eyes fixed upon Par-Salian with a pleading gaze.
“Do—do you want me to explain, Caramon?” Tas asked in a small, polite voice, barely audible over the thunder. “I—I really feel like I should tell why I disrupted the time-travel spell, and then there’s how Raistlin gave me the wrong instructions and made me break the magical device, even though part of that was my fault, I suppose, and how I ended up in the Abyss where I met poor Gnimsh.” Tas’s eyes filled with tears. “And how Raistlin killed him—”
“All this is known to me,” Astinus interrupted. “So you were able to come here because of the kender. Our time is short. What is it you intend, Caramon Majere?”
The big man turned his gaze to Par-Salian. “I bear you no love, wizard. In that, I am at one with my twin. Perhaps you had your reasons for what you did to me and to Lady Crysania back there in Istar. If so”—Caramon raised a hand to stop Par-Salian who, it seems, would have spoken—“if so, then you are the one who lives with them, not me. For now, know that I have it in my power to alter time. As Raistlin himself told me, because of the kender, we can change what has happened.
“I have the magical device. I can travel back to any point in time. Tell me when, tell me what happened that led to this destruction, and I will undertake to prevent it, if I can.”
Caramon’s gaze went from Par-Salian to Astinus. The historian shook his head. “Do not look to me, Caramon Majere. I am neutral in this as in all things. I can give you no help. I can only give you this warning: You may go back, but you may find you change nothing. A pebble in a swiftly flowing river, that is all you may be.”
Caramon nodded. “If that is all, then at least I will die knowing that I tried to make up for my failure.”
Astinus regarded Caramon with a keen, penetrating glance. “What failure is that you speak of, Warrior? You risked your life going back after your brother. You did your best, you endeavored to convince him that this path of darkness he walked would lead only to his own doom.” Astinus gestured toward the Portal. “You heard me speak to him? You know what he faces?”
Wordlessly, Caramon nodded again, his face pale and anguished.
“Then tell me,” Astinus said coolly.
The Tower shuddered. Wind battered the walls, lightning turned the waning night of the world into a garish, blinding day. The small, bare tower room in which they stood shook and trembled. Though they were alone within it, Caramon thought he could hear sounds of weeping, and he slowly came to realize it was the stones of the Tower itself. He glanced about uneasily.
“You have time,” Astinus said. Sitting back down on his stool, he picked up the book. But he did not close it. “Not long, perhaps, but time, still. Wherein did you fail?”
Caramon drew a shaking breath. Then his brows came together. Scowling in anger, his gaze went to Par-Salian. “A trick, wasn’t it, wizard? A trick to get me to do what you mages could not—stop Raistlin in his dreadful ambition. But you failed. You sent Crysania back to die because you feared her. But her will, her love was stronger than you supposed. She lived and, blinded by her love and her own ambition, she followed Raistlin into the Abyss.” Caramon glowered. “I don’t understand Paladine’s purpose in granting her prayers, in giving her the power to go there—”
“It is not for you to understand the ways of the gods, Caramon Majere,” Astinus interrupted coldly. “Who are you to judge them? It may be that they fail, too, sometimes. Or that they choose to risk the best they have in hopes that it will be still better.”
“Be that as it may,” Caramon continued, his face dark and troubled, “the mages sent Crysania back and thereby gave my brother one of the keys he needed to enter the Portal. They failed. The gods failed. And I failed.” Caramon ran a trembling hand through his hair.
“I thought I could convince Raistlin with words to turn back from this deadly path he walked. I should have known better” The big man laughed bitterly. “What poor words of mine ever affected him? When he stood before the Portal, preparing to enter the Abyss, telling me what he intended, I left him. It was all so easy. I simply turned my back and walked away.”
“Bah!” Astinus snorted. “What would you have done? He was strong then, more powerful than any of us can begin to imagine. He held the magical field together by his force of will and his strength alone. You could not have killed him—”
“No,” said Caramon, his gaze shifting away from those in the room, staring out into the storm that raged ever more fiercely, “but I could have followed him—followed him into darkness—even if it meant my death. To show him that I was willing to sacrifice for love what he was willing to sacrifice for his magic and his ambition.” Caramon turned his gaze upon those in the room. “Then he would have respected me. Then he might have listened. And so I will go back. I will enter the Abyss”—he ignored Tasslehoff’s cry of horror “and there I will do what must be done.”
“What must be done,” Par-Salian repeated feverishly. “You do not realize what that means! Dalamar—”
A blazing, blinding bolt of lightning exploded within the room, slamming those within back against the stone walls. No one could see or hear anything as the thunder crashed over them. Then above the blast of thunder rose a tortured cry.
Shaken by that strangled, pain-filled scream, Caramon opened his eyes, only to wish they had been shut forever before seeing such a grisly sight.
Par-Salian had turned from a pillar of marble to a pillar of flame! Caught in Raistlin’s spell, the wizard was helpless. He could do nothing but scream as the flames slowly crept up his immobile body.
Unnerved, Tasslehoff covered his face with his hands and cowered, whimpering, in a corner. Astinus rose from where he had been hurled to the floor, his hands going immediately to the book he still held. He started to write, but his hand fell limp, the pen slipped from his fingers. Once more, he began to close the cover...