The Second Generation

“Raistlin is at rest. It must be! Father would be hurt, so terribly hurt, otherwise.”

If Palin’s heart was whispering other words, the young man ignored them. His uncle was dead. His father had said so. Nothing else was possible; nothing else was to be wished for....

“Stop!” hissed Dalamar, his hand closing about Palin’s arm .

Starting, Palin halted. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he had scarcely noticed where he was. Now he saw that they had come to a large landing, located directly below the laboratory door. Looking up the short flight of stairs that led to it, Palin drew in his breath with a gasp. Two cold, white eyes stared at them out of the darkness—eyes without a body, unless the darkness itself was their flesh and blood and bone. Falling back a step, Palin stumbled into Dalamar.

“Steady, young one,” the dark elf commanded, supporting Palin. “It is the Guardian.”

Behind them, the torchlight wavered. “I remember them,” Caramon said hoarsely. 'They can kill you with a touch ”

“Living beings,” came the specter’s hollow voice, “I smell your warm blood. I hear your hearts beating. Come forward. You awaken my hunger!”

Shoving Palin to one side, Dalamar stepped in front of him. The white eyes glistened for an instant, then lowered in homage.

“Master of the Tower. I did not sense your presence. It has been long since you have visited this place.”

“Your vigil remains undisturbed?” Dalamar asked. “None have tried to enter?”

“Do you see their bones upon these floors? For surely you would, if any had dared disobey your command.”

“Excellent,” Dalamar said. “Now, I give you a new command. Give me the key to the lock. Then stand aside, and let us pass.”

The white eyes flared open, a pale, eager light shining from them.

“That cannot be, Master of the Tower.”

“Why not?” Dalamar asked coolly. His hands folded in the sleeves of his black robes, he glanced at Caramon as he spoke.

“Your command, master, was to Take this key and keep it for all eternity. Give it to no one,' you said, 'not even myself. And from this moment on, your place is to guard this door. No one is to enter. Let death be swift for those who try.' Thus were your words to me, master, and—as you see—I obey them.”

Dalamar nodded his hooded head. “Do you?” he murmured, taking a step forward. Palin caught his breath, seeing the white eyes glow even more brightly. “What will you do if I come up there?”

“Your magic is powerful, master,” said the specter, the disembodied eyes drifting nearer Dalamar, “but it can have no effect on me. There was only one who had that power—”

“Yes,” said Dalamar irritably, hesitating, his foot upon the first stair.

“Do not come closer, master,” the being warned, though Palin could see the eyes shining with a lust that brought sudden visions of cold lips touching his cringing flesh, drinking away his life. Shuddering, he wrapped his arms around his shivering body and sagged back against the wall. The warm feeling was gone, replaced by the chill of this horrible creature, the chill of death and disappointment. He felt nothing inside now, just empty and cold. Perhaps I will give it up. It isn’t worth it. Palin’s head drooped. Then his father’s hand was on his shoulder, his father’s voice echoing his thoughts.

“Come, Palin,” Caramon said wearily. “This has all been for nothing. Let"s go home—”

“Wait!” The gaze of the disembodied eyes shifted from the dark elf to the two figures that huddled behind him. “Who are these? One I recognize—”

“Yes,” said Caramon, his voice low, “you’ve seen me before.”

“His brother,” murmured the specter. “But who is this? The young one? Him I do not know....”

“C’mon, Palin,” Caramon ordered gruffly, casting a fearful glance at the eyes. “We’ve got a long journey—”

Caramon’s arm encircled Palin’s shoulders. The young man felt his father’s gentle urging and tried to turn away, but his gaze was fixed on the specter, which was staring at him strangely.

“Wait!” the specter commanded again, its hollow voice ringing through the darkness. Even the whispers fell silent at its command. “Palin?” it murmured softly, speaking questioningly, it seemed, to itself... or to someone else...

A decision was reached, apparently, because the voice became firm. “Palin. Come forward.”

“No!” Caramon grasped his son.

“Let him go!” Dalamar ordered, glancing around with a furious look. “I told you this might happen! It is our chance!” He gazed coldly at Caramon. “Or are you afraid of what you might find?”

“I am not!” Caramon returned in a choked voice. “Raistlin is dead! I have seen him at peace! I don’t trust you mages! You’re not going to take my son from me!”

Palin could feel his father’s body trembling near his. He could see the anguish in his father’s eyes. Compassion and pity stirred within the young man. There was a brief longing to stay safe within his father’s strong, sheltering arms, but these feelings were burned away by a hot anger that surged up from somewhere inside of him, an anger kindled by the magic.