Est_20, Prompt 14- Answers

[skull_bearer]

TITLE: Never To Be Forgotten Hospitability, Part three of three
AUTHOR: Skull Bearer
FANDOM: Dragonlance
PAIRING: Raistlin/Dalamar
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: Here
PROMPT: 14, Answers
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 1537
SUMMARY: Some places pose more questions than they answer. Inspired by a supposedly true story.
WARNINGS: Nothing.
DISCLAIMER: No comment.

 

 

 

The rain had stopped by morning, but though the sky was clear, there was still the heavy electric-ozone sense in the air that accompanies a thunderstorm.

That bed had not been as dusty as Raistlin had feared, although it had been very hard. He'd fallen asleep on top of Dalamar to make up for it, and ended up being pushed off the bed the next morning. Dalamar hadn't appreciated being drooled on.

Youngil had been as accommodating as the night before, and had accepted his absurdly low payment with many nods and smiles. Raistlin did see him squinting at the coins oddly, but didn't seem to question their value. If nothing else, Raistlin supposed the value of the metal was enough.

 

There were several people out in the streets when they mounted their horses and set off. They stopped and stared, but no abuse was shouted, no stones were thrown. The glances were curious but without malice. Raistlin really didn't know what to make of it. There was a strange heat haze over the town, although the morning was cold, and despite the bustle, their horses' hooves rang out abnormally loud.

 

The houses thinned out as they passed the centre of the village, the trees getting thicker, the road growing rougher. Raistlin caught Dalamar's eye and they both smiled. They would miss this place.

No matter how hard the bed had been, the night's sleep and hot meals had done him good, and Raistlin found himself relaxing into the ride more than he had the last few days, the aches and pains having died away a little.

 

"How long until we reach the next village then?" Dalamar asked, eyes on the road.

Raistlin didn't bother to dig out the map. "Two days, maybe one if we push the horses." If nothing else, they had made good time last night.

Dalamar nodded. "Good, I want to find a proper map so we know exactly where this place is if we're ever in the area again."

Raistlin smiled. He'd been thinking exactly the same.

 

They did make the village, although it was practically the next day by the time they rode in, feeling very road-weary. The day's ride had led them up one hill after another until now were it light Raistlin was sure they could see the village they had come from.

 

This village was everything the last one had not been, and Raistlin was surprised at the contrast. The houses were broken down, the road was unpaved and the one inn refused to let them in until Dalamar threatened to blow the door down. They didn't look at each other when the innkeeper, grumbling and white-faced, finally let them in. It had been foolish to think last night had been anything but a fluke. They had no one to blame but themselves if they were painfully disappointed.

 

One look at the rooms and Raistlin wondered if they might have been better off rooming with the horses. They took their sorry meals into the room; Dalamar kicked the bedclothes on the floor and started casting a few cantrips to get rid of the bedbugs while Raistlin watched the door. The last thing they wanted was to be thrown out for 'sorcery' after they'd paid.

Once the bed was clear, Dalamar sat down on it and sighed. Raistlin joined him. Neither of them wanted to speak because they already knew what would be said. Despite everything, this hurt. Even more because of last night. Saying it out loud would only mean wasting energy that neither of them had to waste.

"Tomorrow we're finding a decent map, and never coming back here unless the army is setting it on fire." Raistlin said finally.

 

Dalamar smiled, but didn't answer. Raistlin put his arms around him, the discomfort slowly falling away as the Dark elf slowly relaxed. His eyes drifted closed and Raistlin had to lean against the wall to keep his balance, one hand stroking through the elf's tangled hair. They'd not gotten around to washing it last night.

Raistlin kissed his forehead, and the smile broadened. Dalamar opened his eyes again. "I think we should put out the bedroll here, even now I don't trust this mattress, to say nothing of the blankets." He wrinkled his nose at the evil-smelling pile dumped on the floor.

"Let me." He eased Dalamar back until his back hit the whitewashed wall, and went to retrieve the bedroll. The Dark elf tucked his legs in and let Raistlin put it down, then pulled off his boots and lay down, letting out his breath with a sigh.

 

Raistlin looked down at him, but didn't speak, sliding in between the blankets until they were pressed chest-to shoulder, their robes riding up around their knees.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The new map was almost the same as the last one, with nothing marked where the old village had been. Finally losing his temper with the mapmaker trying for the third time to sneak out the back door. Dalamar rounded on the man and snarled that if he didn't show them his good maps, his shop would end up burnt down around his ears.

 

The man froze, and fumbled until the counter for a tray of small round cases. Dalamar took the third one and rolled it out impatiently, ignoring the mapmaker's whimpers to be careful with the parchment.

 

Nothing.

 

The next one.

 

Nothing.

 

The third, a beautiful piece of work with a mother-of-pearl case and lambskin parchment.

 

Nothing.

 

Was this village so xenophobic they refused to even put their neighbours on the map? Raistlin leant in over the desk to the cowering mapmaker, who was obvious regretting having opened his shop this morning. "There is a village here." Raistlin pointed out the blank space. "Why haven't you marked it down?"

 

The insult of having his work challenged overcame the mapmaker's fear, and he peered at the map intently, lowering his spectacles to see more clearly. "There?"

Raistlin nodded.

The mapmaker shook his head and wiped his glasses. "There's nothing there now."

 

Raistlin stared at him. "We spent the night at in inn there. There was most certainly something there."

 

"You were- some ruins certainly. But nothing worth marking on a map."

 

Dalamar obviously thought the man was deliberately wasting their time, and after last night wasn't about to let this pass. Raistlin stalled him with an upraised hand. The man was telling the truth, he was sure of it. Something very strange was going on.

 

"But there was something there? At one time?"

 

The man nodded, "You'd need a student of the histories if you wanted to know more. I know one in the village-"

 

Raistlin cut him off before the man could send them on a wild-goose chase. "First, what do you know about this place?"

 

The man hesitated, then sighed, realising it was the only way he'd get them out of his shop. "There was a village there, at the time of the Kingpriest. A village of witches and, well-" He waved a hand at them. /People like you/. "They didn’t last long, of course."

 

Raistlin felt a slow, cold shiver run up his spine.

 

They didn't get much else out of the man, but Raistlin could fill the gaps in himself. A small, isolated village offering solace to the mages fleeing the Lost Battles. The Divine Hammer catching up with them and not bothering to define between innocent and accused. A fire that engulfed houses and inhabitants alike.

 

When they left they took the horses to the highest point in the town and looked out over the fields below.

It would have been foolish to expect they'd see anything this high up, but surely... surely there would have been something. The glint of grey stonework, the tracing of a cobbled road, a wisp of smoke. Something.

 

"You don't believe he was telling the truth?" Dalamar looks at him.

 

"I fail to see what he would gain in lying to us."

 

Dalamar snorted. "He'd have said the sky was green if it got us out of his shop any sooner."

 

"Then why didn't he say that he didn't know? That he hadn't drawn /those/ maps? Why make up such a stupid story when we told him we'd been there last night?"

 

"You really do believe it, don't you? Do you actually believe we slept in a ghost village last night?"

 

No, not a ghost village. He curse didn't affect the already dead. he thought of Youngil's strange way of talking, the absurd cost of the rooms, the rare prosperity of the village. Was this what it had been like, before the Cataclysm, before the Kingpriest?

"I don't know if I believe that, but I /do/ know that if we were to ride back down there, we wouldn't find very much."

 

Dalamar was quiet for a long time, his keen eyes searching the landscape below. Raistlin let him look, not speaking either. He knew what the elf would find, and when Dalamar looked away, shaking his head in confusion, he looked at him. "Nothing?"

 

Dalamar shook his head again. "Nothing. I just... /how?/"

 

Raistlin shook his head. "I don't know."

 

Sometimes there were no answers.

The supposedly true story is of a couple who spent the night in a charming old inn, only to discover after they'd left that the place no longer existed, and had in fact been torn down two hundred years ago. If it's real, the phenomenon is called a Timeslip.

Comments

[shadowvalkyrie.livejournal.com]

Good ending! There's a similar medieval legend about a cursed city (I've forgotten the name and can't find it) that appears once every hundred years for a day and night. If a stranger enters but does not lift the curse within that time, he has to stay forever.

This village was everything the last one had not been, and Raistlin was surprised at the contrast. The houses were broken down, the road was unpaved and the one inn refused to let them in until Dalamar threatened to blow the door down.

Heh. Contrast indeed! Poor mages...

[halokitty69.livejournal.com]

Ooooh. Spooky. I've heard of a similar thing to this happening in Liverpool. There was a story in the paper of a case of someone walking down one of the streets in liverpool when they turned a corner, all of a sudden everything was different, all the shops were old and the people looked old fashioned and stuff. They ran back the way they had come and when they turned round it was back to normal. Freaky *hums twilight zone theme*

QzNwyriydE

[(Anonymous)]

Did you hear? Russian agressor attacks USA...
More info here: hotusanewx.blogspot.com

SHOKED!!