Time of the Twins

The kender did not experience the terrible shock felt by Crysania when she saw through the illusion to the real man. Perhaps this was because Tas had no preconceived notions of what the Kingpriest should look like. Kender hold absolutely no one and nothing in awe (though Tas had to admit he felt a bit queer around the death knight, Lord Soth). He was, therefore, only mildly surprised to see that the most holy Kingpriest was simply a middle-aged human, balding, with pale blue eyes and the terrified look of a deer caught in a thicket. Tas was surprised—and disappointed.

“I’ve gone to all this trouble for nothing,” the kender thought irritably. “There isn’t going to be a Cataclysm. I don’t think this man could make me angry enough to throw a pie at him, let alone a whole fiery mountain.”

But Tas had nothing else to do (and he was really dying to work the magical device), so he decided to stick around and watch and listen. Something might happen after all. He tried to see Crysania, wondering how she felt about this, but the halo of light surrounding the Kingpriest was so bright he couldn’t see anything else in the room.

The Kingpriest walked to the front of the altar, moving slowly, his eyes darting left and right. Tas wondered if the Kingpriest would see Crysania, but apparently he was blinded by his own light as well, for his eyes passed right over her. Arriving at the altar, he did not kneel to pray, as had Crysania. Tas thought he might have started to, but then the Kingpriest angrily shook his head and remained standing.

From his vantage point behind and slightly to the left of the altar, Tas had an excellent look at the man’s face. Once again, the kender gripped the magical device in excitement. For, the look of sheer terror in the watery eyes had been hidden by a mask of arrogance.

“Paladine,” the Kingpriest trumpeted, and Tas had the distinct impression that the man was conferring with some underling. “Paladine, you see the evil that surrounds me! You have been witness to the calamities that have been the scourge of Krynn these past days. You know that this evil is directed against me, personally, because I am the only one fighting it! Surely you must see now that this doctrine of balance will not work!”

The Kingpriest’s voice lost the harsh blare, becoming soft as a flute. “I understand, of course. You had to practice this doctrine in the old days, when you were weak. But you have me now, your right arm, your true representative upon Krynn. With our combined might, I can sweep evil from this world! Destroy the ogre races! Bring the wayward humans into line! Find new homelands far away for the dwarves and kender and gnomes, those races not of your own creation—”

How insulting! Tas thought, incensed. I’ve half a mind to let them go ahead and drop a mountain on him!

“And I will rule in glory,” the Kingpriest’s voice rose to a crescendo, “creating an age to rival even the fabled Age of Dreams!” The Kingpriest spread his arms wide. “You gave this and more to Huma, Paladine, who was nothing but a renegade knight of lowbirth! I demand that you give me, too, the power to drive away the shadows of evil that darken this land!”

The Kingpriest fell silent, waiting, his arms upraised.

Tas held his breath, waiting, too, clutching the magical device in his hands.

And then, the kender felt it—the answer. A horror crept over him, a fear he’d never experienced before, not even in the presence of Lord Soth or the Shoikan Grove. Trembling, the kender sank to his knees and bowed his head, whimpering and shaking, pleading with some unseen force for mercy, for forgiveness. Beyond the curtain, he could hear his own incoherent mumblings echoed, and he knew Crysania was there and that she, too, felt the terrible hot anger that rolled over him like the thunder from the storm.

But the Kingpriest did not speak a word. He simply remained, staring up expectantly into the heavens he could not see through the vast walls and ceilings of his Temple... the heavens he could not see because of his own light.

17

His mind firmly resolved upon a course of action, Caramon fell into an exhausted sleep and, for a few hours, was blessed with oblivion. He awakened with a start to find Raag bending over him, breaking his chains.

“What about these?” Caramon asked, raising his bound wrists.

Raag shook his head. Although Arack didn’t really think even Caramon would be foolish enough to try and overpower the ogre unarmed, the dwarf had seen enough madness in the man’s eyes last night not to risk taking chances.

Caramon sighed. He had, indeed, considered that possibility as he had considered many others last night, but had rejected it. The important thing was to stay alive—at least until he had made certain Raistlin was dead. After that, it didn’t matter anymore...

Poor Tika... She would wait and wait, until one day she would wake and realize he was never coming home.

“Move!” Raag grunted.