Time of the Twins

“There, there,” Caramon muttered, flushing in embarrassment and shoving Tasslehoff gently away from him. “It’s all right. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be—I was scared to death the first time I went into that place. But, you’re right. Maybe they can help Crysania.” Caramon’s face hardened. “Maybe they can answer a few questions I have about Raist, too. Now, where’s that gully dwarf gotten to? And”—he glanced down at his belt—“where’s my dagger?”

“What dagger?” Tas asked, skipping around, his gaze on the Forest.

Reaching out, his face grim, Caramon caught hold of the kender. His gaze went to Tas’s belt. Tas’s followed. His eyes opened wide in astonishment.

“You mean that dagger? My goodness, I wonder how it got there?You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ll bet you dropped it, during the fight.”

“Yeah,” Caramon muttered. Growling, he retrieved his dagger and was just putting it back into its sheath when he heard a noise behind him. Whirling around in alarm, he got a bucketful of icy water, right in the face.

“Him awake now,” Bupu announced complacently, dropping the bucket.

While drying his clothes, Caramon sat and studied the trees, his face drawn with the pain of his memories. Finally, heaving a sigh, he dressed, checked his weapons, then stood up. Instantly, Tasslehoff was right next to him.

“Let’s go!” he said eagerly.

Caramon stopped. “Into the Forest? he asked in a hopeless voice.

“Well, of course!” Tas said, startled. “Where else?

Caramon scowled, then sighed, then shook his head. “No, Tas,” he said gruffly. “You stay here with Lady Crysania. Now, look,” he said in answer to the kender’s indignant squawk of protest, “I’m just going into the Forest for a little ways—to, er, check it out.”

“You think there’s something in there, don’t you?” Tas accused the big man. “That’s why you’re making me stay out! You’ll go in there and there’ll be a big fight. You’ll probably kill it, and I’ll miss the whole thing!”

“I doubt that,” Caramon muttered. Glancing into the fog-ridden Forest apprehensively, he tightened his sword belt.

“At least you might tell me what you think it is,” Tas said. “And, say, Caramon, what am I supposed to do if it kills you? Can I go in then?How long should I wait? Could it kill you in—say—five minutes? Ten? Not that I think it will,” he added hastily, seeing Caramon’s eyes widen. “But I really should know, I mean, since you’re leaving me in charge.”

Bupu studied the slovenly warrior speculatively. “Me say—two minutes. It kill him in two minutes. You make bet’?” She looked at Tas.

Caramon glared grimly at both of them, then heaved another sigh. Tas was only being logical, after all.

“I’m not sure what to expect,” Caramon muttered. “I—I remember last time, we... we met this thing... a wraith. It—Raist...” Caramon fell silent. “I don’t know what you should do,” he said after a moment. Shoulders slumping, he turned away and began to walk slowly toward the Forest. “The best you can, I guess.”

“I got nice snake here, me say he last two minutes,” Bupu said to Tas, rummaging around in her bag. “What stakes you put Up?

“Shhhh,” Tas said softly, watching Caramon walk away. Then, shaking his head, he scooted over to sit beside Crysania, who lay on the ground, her sightless eyes staring up at the sky. Gently, Tas drew the cleric’s white hood over her head, shading her from the sun’s rays. He had tried unsuccessfully to shut those staring eyes, but it was as if her flesh had turned to marble.

Raistlin seemed to walk beside Caramon every step of the way into the Forest. The warrior could almost hear the soft whisper of his brother’s red robes—they had been red then! He could hear his brother’s voice—always gentle, always soft, but with that faint hiss of sarcasm that grated so on their friends. But it had never bothered Caramon. He had understood—or anyway thought he had.

The trees in the Forest suddenly shifted at Caramon’s approach, just as they had shifted at the kender’s approach.

Just as they shifted when we approached... how many years ago, Caramon thought. Seven? Has it only been seven years? No, he realized sadly. It’s been a lifetime, a lifetime for both of us.

As Caramon came to the edge of the wood, the mist flowed out along the ground, chilling his ankles with a cold that seared through flesh and bit into bone. The trees stared at him, their branches writhing in agony. He remembered the tortured woods of Silvanesti, and that brought more memories of his brother. Caramon stood still a moment, looking into the Forest. He could see the dark and shadowy shapes waiting for him. And there was no Raistlin to keep them at bay. Not this time.