Not like Raistlin-the runt, the Sly One.
All I ever had was my magic, Raistlin's mind shrieked. And now he has that too!
Propping himself against the wall for support, Raistlin raised both his hands, put his thumbs together, and pointed them at Caramon. He began murmuring magic words, but different from those that Caramon had spoken.
"Raist?" Caramon backed up. "What are you doing? C'mon! Let me help you. I'll take care of you- just like always… Raist! I'm your brother!"
Raistlin's parched lips cracked in a grin. Hatred and jealousy long kept bubbling and molten beneath a layer of cold, solid rock-burst forth. Magic coursed through his body and flamed out of his hands. He watched the fire flare, billow, and engulfCaramon. When the fighter became a living torch, Raistlin sud denly knew from his training that what he was seeing simply could not be. The instant that he realized something was wrong with this occurrence, the burning image of his brother vanished. A moment later, Raistlin lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.
"Awaken, Raistlin, your trials are complete."
Raistlin opened his eyes. The darkness was gone;
sunshine streamed through a window. He lay in a bed. Looking down at him was the withered face of Par-Salian.
"Why?" Raistlin rasped, clutching at the Mage in fury. "Why did you do that to me?"
Par-Salian laid his hand on the frail young man's shoulder. "The gods asked for a sword, Raistlin, and now I can give them one-you. Evil is coming upon the land. The fate of all this world called Krynn swings in the balance. Through the aid of your hand and others, the balance will be restored."
Raistlin stared, then laughed, briefly and bitterly. "Save Krynn? How? You have shattered my body. I can't even see properly!" He stared in terror…
.. For, as Raistlin watched, he could see the Mage's face
dying. When he turned his gaze to the window, the stones he looked at crumbled before his eyes. Wherever he looked, everything was falling into ruin and decay. Then, the moment passed, and his vision cleared.
Par-Salian handed him a mirror. Raistlin saw that his own face was sunken and hollow. His skin was a golden color now, with a faint metallic cast; this would be a symbol of the agony he had endured. But it was his eyes that caused him to recoil in horror, for the black pupils were no longer round- they were the shape of hourglasses!
"You see through hourglass eyes now, Raistlin. And so you see time, as it touches all things. You see death, whenever you look on life. Thus you will always be aware of the brief timespan we spend in the world." Par-Salian shook his head. "There will be no joy in your life, Raistlin, I fear-indeed, little joy for anyone living on Krynn."
Raistlin laid the mirror face down. "My brother?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"It was an illusion that I created-my personal challenge for you to look deeper into your own heart and examine the ways in which you deal with those closest to you," Par-Salian said gently. "As for your brother, he is here, safe… quite safe. Here he comes now."
As Caramon entered the room, Raistlin sat up, shoving Par Salian aside. The warrior appeared relieved to see that his twin had enough energy to greet him, but Caramon's eyes reflected a certain sadness that comes from learning an unpleasant truth.
"I didn't think you would recognize the illusion for what it was," Par-Salian said. "But you did; after all, what magic-user can work spells, carrying a sword and wearing armor?"
"Then I did not fail?" Raistlin murmured hoarsely.
"No." Par-Salian smiled. "The final of the Test was the defeat of the dark elf-truly superb for one of your experience."
Raistlin looked at his brother's haunted face, his averted eyes. "He watched me kill him, didn't he?" Raistlin whispered.
"Yes," Par-Salian looked from one to the other. "I am sorry Ihad to do this to you, Raistlin. You have much to learn, mage mercy, compassion, forebear-ance. It is my hope that the trials you face ahead of you will teach you what you lack now. If not, you will succumb in the end to the fate your master foresaw. But, as of now, you and your brother truly know each other. The barriers between you have been battered down, though I am afraid each of you has suffered wounds in the encounter. I hope the scars make you stronger."
Par-Salian rose to leave. "Use your powers well, mage. The time is close at hand when your strength must save the world."
Raistlin bowed his head and sat in silence until Par-Salian had left the room. Then he stood up, staggered, and nearly fell.
Caramon jumped forward to help him, but Raistlin, clinging to the wooden staff, caught himself. Fighting the pain and dizziness that assailed him, Raistlin's golden-eyed gaze met that of his twin. Caramon hesitated… and stopped.
Raistlin sighed. Then, leaning on the Staff of Ma-gius, the young mage pulled himself upright and walked, slowly and with faltering steps, out the door.
Head bowed, his twin followed.
Harvests
Flint squinted up at the patches of fading blue sky showing through the forest's skeletal cover. Golden light slanted down from a westering autumn sun. The thought of another night in this gloomy woods did nothing to improve his mood, already soured by two restless nights. Wicked whispers and dread-filled moans were this forest's night song. He shivered and caught himself tapping the haft of his battle-axe. There was something wrong in these woods, and thoughts of Solace and home never seemed more welcome to the old dwarf than they had on this journey.
The dwarf glowered at Tanis. Blast the young half-elf's curious nature! So he hadn't been out of his homeland of Qualinesti that long. Did that mean he had to lead them down every cowpath in search of adventure? And wasn't he, Flint Fireforge, a respectable dwarven businessman, old enough to know better?
Flint heaved a disgruntled sigh. He guessed not-or he wouldn't be in this predicament, lost in some gloomy forest that wasn't on his map.
"Are you going to be peering at the dirt much longer," he grumbled, "or can we look for a camp site?"
Tanis, moving on Flint's heels and inspecting the ground to the left of the root-webbed path, gestured for Flint to join him. "Look at this."
The bushes and frost-seared grass to the side of the path were bent and trampled, marking a departure into the forest. A scrap of brown wool still fluttered in the sharp-toothed grasp of a young prickly ash.
"It looks like someone went through here," Flint said. "And recently, at that."
Tanis peered into the forest in the direction the lone traveler had taken. The song of water racing and tumbling over rocks played a faint counterpoint to the whispering rustle of leaves in the cooling breeze. But then from nearer by he heard the soft sound of something or someone breathing in the hard, short gasps that clearly spoke of fear.
"Flint?" he whispered.
"I hear it."
Tanis reached for his bow and nocked an arrow with the quick, almost absent moves of one who has used it with familiarity for years. It took only a gesture and a nod from him to tell the old dwarf to follow quietly.
Elf-silent, making no more noise than a hunted fox, Tanis stepped off the path and into the darkening woods.
Close-growing oaks and then underbrush crowded together, forming a broad wall of trunks and forbidding shadow. Tanis moved quickly from one oak to the next, keeping cover. Several growths thick, the trees ended abruptly in a clearing carpeted with their wide-fingered bronze leaves.