Time of the Twins

“Relate to them accurately both what I have told you,” Raistlin whispered, “and what you may have guessed. And give the great Par-Salian my regards... apprentice!”

The mage withdrew his hand.

Dalamar collapsed upon the floor, clutching his chest, moaning. Raistlin walked around him without even a glance. The dark elf could hear him leave the room, the soft swish of the black robes, the door opening and closing.

In a frenzy of pain, Dalamar ripped open his robes. Five red, glistening trails of blood streamed down his breast, soaking into the black cloth, welling from five holes that had been burned into his flesh.

10

Caramon! Get up! Wake up!”

No. I’m in my grave. It’s warm here beneath the ground, warm and safe. You can’t wake me, you can’t reach me. I’m hidden in the clay, you can’t find me.

“Caramon, you’ve got to see this! Wake up!”

A hand shoved aside the darkness, tugged at him.

No, Tika, go away! You brought me back to life once, back to pain and suffering. You should have left me in the sweet realm of darkness below the Blood Sea of Istar. But I’ve found peace now at last. I dug my grave and I buried myself.

“Hey, Caramon, you better wake up and take a look at this!”

Those words! They were familiar. Of course, I said them! I said them to Raistlin long ago, when he and I first came to this forest. So how can I be hearing them? Unless I am Raistlin... Ah, that’s—

There was a hand on his eyelid! Two fingers were prying it open! At the touch, fear ran prickling through Caramon’s bloodstream, starting his heart beating with a jolt.

“Arghhhh!” Caramon roared in alarm, trying to crawl into the dirt as that one, forcibly opened eye saw a gigantic face hovering over him—the face of a gully dwarf!

“Him awake,” Bupu reported. “Here,” she said to Tasslehoff, “you hold this eye. I open other one.”

“No!” Tas cried hastily. Dragging Bupu off the warrior, Tas shoved her behind him. “Uh... you go get some water.”

“Good idea,” Bupu remarked and scuttled off.

“It—it’s all right, Caramon,” Tas said, kneeling beside the big man and patting him reassuringly. “It was only Bupu. I’m sorry, but I was—uh—looking at the... well, you’ll see... and I forgot to watch her.”

Groaning, Caramon covered his face with his hand. With Tas’s help, he struggled to sit up. “I dreamed I was dead,” he said heavily. “Then I saw that face—I knew it was all over. I was in the Abyss.”

“You may wish you were,” Tas said somberly.

Caramon looked up at the sound of the kender’s unusually serious tone. “Why? What do you mean?” he asked harshly.

Instead of answering, Tas asked, “How do you feel?”

Caramon scowled. “I’m sober, if that’s what you want to know,” the big man muttered. “And I wish to the gods I wasn’t. So there.”

Tasslehoff regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then, slowly, he reached into a pouch and drew forth a small leather-bound bottle. “Here, Caramon,” he said quietly, “if you really think you need it.”

The big man’s eyes flashed. Eagerly, he stretched out a trembling hand and snatched the bottle. Uncorking the top, he sniffed at it, smiled, and raised it to his lips.

“Quit staring at me!” he ordered Tas sullenly.

“I’m s-sorry.” Tas flushed. He rose to his feet. “I-I’ll just go look after Lady Crysania—”

“Crysania...” Caramon lowered the flask, untasted. He rubbed his gummed eyes. “Yeah, I forgot about her. Good idea, you looking after her. Take her and get out of here, in fact. You and that vermin-ridden gully dwarf of yours! Get out and leave me alone!” Raising the bottle to his lips again, Caramon took a long pull. He coughed once, lowered the bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Go on,” he repeated, staring at Tas dully, “get out of here! All of you! Leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry, Caramon,” Tas said quietly. “I really wish we could. But we can’t.”

“Why?” snarled Caramon.

Tas drew a deep breath. “Because, if I remember the stories Raistlin told me, I think the Forest of Wayreth has found us.”

For a moment, Caramon stared at Tas, his blood-shot eyes wide.

“That’s impossible,” he said after a moment, his words little more than a whisper. “We’re miles from there! I—it took me and Raist... it took us months to find the Forest! And the Tower is far south of here! It’s clear past Qualinesti, according to your map.” Caramon regarded Tas balefully. “That isn’t the same map that showed Tarsis by the sea, is it?”

“It could be,” Tas hedged, hastily rolling up the map and hiding it behind his back. “I have so many...” He hurriedly changed the subject. “But Raistlin said it was a magic forest, so I suppose it could have found us, if it was so inclined.”

“It is a magic forest,” Caramon murmured, his voice deep and trembling. “It’s a place of horror.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, then—suddenly—he looked up, his face full of cunning. “This is a trick, isn’t it? A trick to keep me from drinking! Well, it won’t work—”

“It’s no trick, Caramon.” Tas sighed. Then he pointed. “Look over there. It’s just like Raistlin described to me once.”