Dragonlance - Legends 2 - War of the Twins, DragonLance, Dragon Lance
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DRAGONLANCE LEGENDS
Volume 2
WAR OF THE TWINS
Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
PDF by Ashamael
Looking up, I see the scaffold, the hooded figure with its head onthe block, the
hooded figure of the executioner, the sharp bladeof the axe glinting in the burning
sun.
The axe falls, the victim's severed head rolls on the woodenplatform, the
hood comes off
"My head!" Raistlin whispered feverishly, twisting his thin handstogether in
anguish.
The executioner, laughing, removes his hood, revealing
"My face!" Raistlin murmured, his fear spreading through his bodylike a malign
growth, making him sweat and chill by turns.Clutching at his head, he tried to
banish the evil visions thathaunted his dreams continually, night after night, and
lingered todisturb his waking hours as well, turning all he ate or drank toashes in
his mouth.
But they would not depart. "Master of Past and Present!" Raistlinlaughed
hollowly-bitter, mocking laughter. "I am Master ofnothing! All this power, and I
am trapped! Trapped! Following inhis footsteps, knowing that every second that
passes has passedbefore! I see people I've never seen, yet I know them! I hear
theecho of my own words before I speak them! This face!" His handspressed
against his cheeks. "This face! His face! Not mine! Notmine! Who am I? I am my
own executioner!"
Book 1
The River Flows On....
The dark waters of time swirled about the archmage's black robes,carrying him
and those with him forward through the years.
The sky rained fire, the mountain fell upon the city of Istar,plunging it down,
down into the depths of the ground. The seawaters, taking mercy on the terrible
destruction, rushed in tofill the void. The great Temple, where the Kingpriest was
stillwaiting for the gods to grant him his demands, vanished from theface of the
world. Even those sea elves who ventured into the newly-created Blood Sea of
Istar looked in wonder at the place where the Temple had stood. There was
nothing there now but a deepblack pit. The sea water within was so dark and
chill that eventhese elves, born and bred and living beneath the water, dared
notswim near it.
But there were many on Ansalon who envied the inhabitants ofIstar. For
them at least, death had come swiftly.
For those who survived the immediate destruction on Ansalon, deathcame slowly, in
hideous aspect-starvation, disease, murder ...
War.
CHAPTER 1
A hoarse, bellowing yell of fear and horror shattered Crysania'ssleep. So sudden
and awful was the yell and so deep her sleepthat, for a moment, she could not even
think what had wakened her.Terrified and confused, she stared around, trying to
understandwhere she was, trying to discover what had frightened her so thatshe
could scarcely breathe.
She was lying on a damp, hard floor. Her body shook convulsivelyfrom the chill that
penetrated her bones; her teeth chattered fromthe cold. Holding her breath, she
sought to hear something or seesomething. But the darkness around was thick and
impenetrable, thesilence was intense.
She let go her breath and tried to draw another, but the darknessseemed to be
stealing it away. Panic gripped her. Desperately shetried to structure the darkness,
to people it with shapes andforms. But none came to her mind. There was only the
darkness andit had no dimension. It was eternal....
Then she heard the yell again and recognized it as what hadawakened her. And,
though she came near gasping in relief at thesound of another human voice, the
fear she heard in that yellechoed in her soul.
Desperately, frantically trying to penetrate the darkness, sheforced herself to
think, to remember. . . .
There had been singing stones, a chanting voice -Raistlin's voice-and his arms
around her. Then the sensation of stepping into waterand being carried into a swift,
vast darkness.
Raistlin! Reaching out a trembling hand, Crysania felt nothingnear her but
damp, chill stone. And then memory returned withhorrifying impact. Caramon
lunging at his brother with theflashing sword in his hand.... Her words as she
cast a clericalspell to protect the mage.... The sound of a sword clanging
onstone.
But that yell-it was Caramon's voice! What if he
"Raistlin!" Crysania called fearfully, struggling to her feet. Hervoice vanished,
disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness. It wassuch a terrible feeling that she
dared not speak again. Claspingher arms about her, shivering in the intense cold,
Crysania's handwent involuntarily to the medallion of Paladine that hung
aroundher neck. The god's blessing flowed through her.
"Light," she whispered and, holding the medallion fast, she prayedto the god to
light the darkness.
Soft light welled from the medallion between her fingers, pushingback the black
velvet that smothered her, letting her breathe.Lifting the chain over her head,
Crysania held the medallionaloft. Shining it about her surroundings, she tried to
rememberthe direction from which the yell had come.
She had quick impressions of shattered, blackened furniture,cobwebs, books
lying scattered about the floor, bookshelvesfalling off walls. But these were
almost as frightening as thedarkness itself; it was the darkness that gave them
birth. Theseobjects had more right to this place than she.
And then the yell came again.
Her hand shaking, Crysania turned swiftly toward the sound. Thelight of the god
parted the darkness, bringing two figures intoshockingly stark relief. One, dressed
in black robes, lay stilland silent on the cold floor. Standing above that unmoving
figurewas a huge man. Dressed in blood-stained golden armor, an ironcollar bolted
around his neck, he stared into the darkness, hishands outstretched, his mouth
open wide, his face white withterror.
The medallion slipped from Crysania's nerveless hand as sherecognized the
body lying huddled at the feet of the warrior.
"Raistlin!" she whispered.
She ran across the floor, her world reeling with the light thatswung crazily from her
hand. Dark shapes scurried from beneath herfeet, but Crysania never noticed them.
Filled with a fear moresuffocating than the darkness, she knelt beside the mage.
He lay face down upon the floor, his hood cast over his head.Gently, Crysania
lifted him, turning him over. Fearfully shepushed the hood back from his face and
held the glowing medallionabove him. Fear chilled her heart.
The mage's skin was ashen, his lips blue, his eyes closed andsunken into his
hollow cheekbones.
"What have you done?" she cried to Caramon, looking up from whereshe knelt
beside the mage's seemingly lifeless body. "What haveyou done?" she demanded,
her voice breaking in her grief and herfury.
"Crysania?" Caramon whispered hoarsely.
The light from the medallion cast strange shadows over the form ofthe towering
gladiator. His arms still outstretched, his handsgrasping feebly at the air, he bent his
head toward the sound ofher voice. "Crysania?" he repeated again, with a sob.
Taking astep toward her, he fell over his brother's legs and plungedheadlong to the
floor.
Almost instantly, he was up again, crouched on his hands andknees, his breath
coming in quick gasps, his eyes still wide andstaring. He reached out his hand.
"Crysania?" He lunged toward the sound of her voice. "Your light!Bring us your
light! Quickly!"
"I have a light, Caramon! I-Blessed Paladine!" Crysania murmured,staring at him
in the medallion's soft glow. "You are blind!"
Reaching out her hand, she took hold of his grasping, twitchingfingers. At her
touch, Caramon sobbed again in relief. Hisclinging hand closed over hers with
crushing strength, andCrysania bit her lip with the pain. But she held onto him
firmlywith one hand, the medallion with the other.
Rising to her feet, she helped Caramon to his. The warrior's bigbody shook, and he
clutched at her in desperate terror, his eyesstill staring straight ahead, wild,
unseeing. Crysania peered intothe darkness, searching desperately for a chair, a
couch ...something.
And then she became aware, suddenly, that the darkness was lookingback.
Hurriedly averting her eyes, keeping her gaze carefully within thelight of her
medallion, she guided Caramon to the only large pieceof furniture she saw.
"Here, sit down," she instructed. "Lean up against this."
She settled Caramon on the floor, his back against an ornatelycarved wooden desk
that, she thought, seemed vaguely familiar toher. The sight brought a rush of
painful, familiar memories-shehad seen it somewhere. But she was too worried and
preoccupied togive it much thought.
"Caramon?" she asked shakily. "Is Raistlin d- Did you kill-" Hervoice broke.
"Raistlin?" Caramon turned his sightless eyes toward the sound ofher voice. The
expression on his face grew alarmed. He tried tostand. "Raist! Where-"
"No. Sit back!" Crysania ordered in swift anger and fear. Her handon his shoulder,
she shoved him down.
Caramon's eyes closed, a wry smile twisted his face. For a moment,he looked very
like his twin.
"No, I didn't kill him!" he said bitterly. "How could I? The lastthing I heard was
you cry out to Paladine, then everything wentdark. My muscles wouldn't move, the
sword fell from my hand. Andthen-"
But Crysania wasn't listening. Running back to where Raistlin laya few feet from
them, she knelt down beside the mage once again.Holding the medallion near his
face, she reached her hand insidethe black hood to feel for the lifebeat in his neck.
Closing hereyes in relief, she breathed a silent prayer to Paladine.
"He's alive!" she whispered. "But then, what's wrong with him?"
Flushing almost guiltily, Crysania described the mage's condition.
Caramon shrugged. "Exhausted by the spell casting," he said, hisvoice
expressionless. "And, remember, he was weak to begin with,at least so you told me.
Sick from the nearness of the gods orsome such thing." His voice sank. "I've seen
him like that before.The first time he used the dragon orb, he could scarcely
moveafterward. I held him in my arms-"
He broke off, staring into the darkness, his face calm now, calmand grim.
"There's nothing we can do for him, " he said. "He hasto rest."
After a short pause, Caramon asked quietly, "Lady Crysania, canyou heal
me?"
Crysania's skin burned. "I-I'm afraid not," she replied,distraught. "It-it must have
been my spell that blinded you." Oncemore, in her memory, she saw the big
warrior, the bloodstainedsword in his hand, intent on killing his twin, intent on
killingher-if she got in his way.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, feeling so tired and chilled she wasalmost sick. "But I
was desperate and ... and afraid. Don't worry,though," she added, "the spell is not
permanent. It will wear off,in time."
Caramon sighed. "I understand," he said. "Is there a light in thisroom? You said
you had one."
"Yes," she answered. "I have the medallion-"
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