Temporal 2

[skull_bearer]

Okay, sorry for a newly long wait, but i hope things will be going better from now on. For now, please enjoy.

 

 

Temporal

 

Mechanus

 

Of our elaborate plans,

The End.

Of everything that stands,

The End, The Doors.

 

Raistlin closed the cage tight in preparation. He hardened the old grief and new fear that he'd used as a shield for so long into an impenetrable wall. It wasn't as strong as the Wall, but Fistandantilus had had years to create it, and Raistlin didn't. It wouldn't have to hold for long; minutes, heartbeats.

But Raistlin had been in here so long that time was elusive and hard to judge now. But hopefully, maybe. He hardened the cage as best he could, like pouring water on a wall of ice, freezing layer upon layer and hoping it wouldn't shatter like ice when it was time to test it.

 

It was a risk and Raistlin was no longer so sure it was worth it. If it didn't work, he would lose utterly. Fistandantilus would realise what Raistlin was trying to do, and it would be over in ways Raistlin didn't want to imagine.

No. It was a risk, but it was no worse than most of the risks he had run, and for much less. To win, to have all that power and knowledge... and on top of all, to kill that foul monster of a lich. Worth the risk, more than worth the risk. If Raistlin could breathe, he would have inhaled and exhaled to calm down. As it was, he gathered the thoughts of calm around his mind against him until the fear was covered enough to be ignored.

 

He'd picked through the lich's thoughts and the creature's plan had slowly taken shape. Raistlin was glad he had looked, even if everything came off as planned and the monster was dead, dead dead, there would still be one variable Raistlin had not foreseen: his brother.

It was not exactly surprising. Fistandantilus had just about told him as much, mocking him to have thrown away a tool as useful and as willing to serve as Caramon. The lich had been planning to use some local gladiator to be his muscle, but with Caramon so available he had reconsidered. To bring the oaf along with the cleric, and break them both to his loyalty.

 

Not that such would have been needed for Caramon. Fistandantilus would only have needed to ask, to give the man the slightest attention or whatever mockery of kindness the lich could muster and Caramon would be his slave. Raistlin had received as much when he had made it clear he didn't care if Caramon lived or died.

It was strange; he could almost see his own hatred. There was far more of it than he'd expecting, hate piled on older hate layer over layer like the walls he was building. He wondered how long he'd been fooling himself that he'd ever felt anything else towards his brother.

 

Raistlin hesitated, he could use this, but the thought of touching that old helpless hate and loathing just made him feel ill. It was tough, strong, hardened by years. Yes, that could work. He would use this.

Remembering the constant, endless patronising, the coddling that Raistlin wondered if he'd ever needed. Once Caramon was gone, he had survived perfectly well with only Dalamar's help, and all the things that he'd thought he was unable to do were no longer that hard. He remembered Caramon's utter willingness to believe Fistandantilus' lies, the blind faith in the fools eyes, and knotted the rage that gathered with the fear and pain of the cage.

 

More strength, a tighter mesh. A more secure cage to lose Fistandantilus in when the time came. Raistlin closed his thoughts to it, it was exhausting, the hate drained him in a way the older emotions didn't. Finished, Raistlin pulled away, into the shadows of the Wall to rest, out of sight and away. He was tired and he wanted it to be over, so he could just go home at last.

If there was one thing Raistlin was grateful for, it was the Dalamar was not to be found in any of the lich's thoughts he had found. Wherever the Dark elf was, it was somewhere not even Fistandantilus could reach. Perhaps in the Tower of High Sorcery, plotting against the lich himself. Raistlin would have smiled. That would take some explaining. But surely, once the elf saw him he would know. He had known in Neraka and would have told the Conclave that this wasn't him. They would believe him, Par-Salian must have known about the lich already. They would know, and he would explain and it would be over. Over at long last, and he and Dalamar would go home- wherever home was right now- Wayrath or Palanthas maybe.

Explain to the poor apprentice Fistandantilus had been tormenting what had really been going on and send him back to Wayreth with some form of compensation. And then he could rest, relax for the first time in years in Dalamar's arms and sleep. By the Abyss, he'd probably sleep for months.

 

Raistlin leant against the wall, letting those hopes go and fly into the blind world beyond the wall. Later, he would think about this. Later when there was no longer any chance of being noticed, when he was once again alone in his own mind.

 

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

The first Dalamar knew about their next visitor was Andras Rannoch slipping into his study through the door. Dalamar didn't stay here often; the kitchen was warm and in every way more alive than the rest of the Tower, and staying in the study was like living inside a skull. But his spellbooks were here and moving them to another place would be a good way to be forbidden it.

 

He looked up as Rannoch drifted in, irritated at being interrupted. The Spectre waved its hands wildly, and Dalamar closed his spellbook. Whatever had agitated the Spectre would undoubtably be important. He followed Rannoch out of the door, and to the far window in the corridor. Dalamar looked out, and frowned. Beyond the Shoikan Grove, a dragon was flapping against the sunset like an overgrown bat.

 

"There are a lot of dragons nowadays." Dalamar said wearily. There hadn't been in Rannoch's lifetime, or even for most of his death. He'd probably never seen one since Fistandantilus had torn him down from the Tower railings.

 

Rannoch pointed again, then beckoned, and now Dalamar could see what he meant. The dragon appeared to be trying to fly closer, its wings beating against the wall of fear around the Grove like a moth around a lantern. Then it vanished as it landed.

"A new guest for the lich." Rannoch flinched at the mention.

 

A new one to watch, and a dragon rider no less. Unless Fistandantilus meant to make alliances with the dragon itself. Rannoch caught hold of his robe and tugged, its touch was ice. Dalamar followed, down the stairs with his robe still held tightly in the Spectre’s hand, to the landing above the entrance hall. Where Fistandantilus was waiting.

Rannoch vanished behind the pillar, but Dalamar stayed at the rail, waiting. Fistandantilus had the door open, waiting to welcome its latest guest. Two in as many weeks, it would not be long now before its plan was implemented.

 

"I am overjoyed to see you too, my sister."

 

Dalamar frowned, and glanced at Rannoch -- Fistandantilus has a sister? -- before it became obvious.

"I should kill you!" Kitiara stormed in, dragonhelm removed, dark hair sticking up in clumps.

 

Fistandantilus ignored her, and turned to a figure that had materialised out of the shadows.

"Lord Soth." Dalamar flinched, and took a step backwards through Andras Rannoch. Sweet Nuitari, not two of them. "Knight of the Black Rose, who died in flames in the Cataclysm before the curse of the elfmaid you wronged dragged you back to bitter life."

 

"Such is my tale." The Death Knight's voice was as dead as the lich's. "And you are the master of the Past and Present, the one foretold."

 

Heartbeats stretched out as the two undead beings studied each other, and even Kitiara was silent, sensing if not understanding the conflict going on before her.

"Your magic is strong." It was almost mockery.

 

Soth did not seem irritated, if indeed he was capable of it after so long. "Yes. I can kill with a single word. I can hurl a ball of fire into the midst of my enemies. I rule a squadron of skeletal warriors, who can destroy by touch alone." Dalamar remembered the dead of Darken Wood, but didn't shudder. How far had he come, that that terrible memory was unable to raise a spark of fear any more. How dark the path had become.

Lord Soth Stepped forward and bowed to Fistandantilus. "But I bow in the presence of a master."

 

Even at such a distance, Dalamar saw the shock and anger of Kitiara's eyes; she was a fool, unable to see what truly stood in front of her. But she was a strong fool, and a possible ally. If she hated Fistandantilus as strongly as she seemed to, well, then Dalamar would be willing to work with her.

"Disappointed, my dear sister?" Fistandantilus hissed.

 

The anger disappeared in a flash and Kitiara smiled; her warm, crooked, painfully familiar smile. "Of course not, little brother, after all it was you I came to see. It's been too long since we visited. You look well."

 

"Oh I am, dear sister." Dalamar wondered if Kitiara was so far gone that she saw anything of Raistlin in that moment. The words sounded so inhuman that Dalamar's stomach clenched, and wondered if the Dead Ones had been blessed in their silence.

Fistandantilus lay a hand on Kitiara's arm, whispering mockingly of Neraka, and that fall of the Dark Queen.

 

"Thanks to your treachery," Kitiara snapped, and tried to pull away, but Fistandantilus' hands were dead as the rest of him, and their grip was iron.

The lich laughed, and this time even Kitiara paled. Dalamar pulled away as the two of them neared the stairs.

 

"Shall we talk of treachery, my dear sister? Did you not rejoice when I used my magic to destroy Lord Ariakas' shield of protection, allowing Tanis Half-elven to plunge his sword into the body of your lord and master? Did not I -- by that action -- make you the most powerful Dragon Highlord in Krynn?"

 

Dalamar backed away as the two climbed the stairs, talking politics, Dalamar always stayed one landing ahead of them, out of sight, but not out of hearing. Rannoch had already hidden somewhere, probably in the attics.

"-- I admit I was a little surprised at the courage of Lady Crysania --"

 

Dalamar stopped, hands flat on the wall, downstairs, the footsteps had stopped.

"Lady Crysania!" Kitiara sounded astonished. "A Revered Daughter of Paladine! You allowed her -- here?"

 

"I not only allowed her, I invited her." Gloating. "Without that invitation and a charm of warding, of course, she could never have passed."

 

"And she came?"

 

"Quite eagerly, I assure you." A pause, and Dalamar felt ice trickle down his spine. "Quite eagerly."

Kitiara laughed, a high, shrill laugh which sounded far too forced. Peering around the corner, Dalamar saw Fistandantilus smile at her, and the laughter stopped immediately. "Come," he gestured towards the door, "Let us talk; it has been too long since we have talked, my sister."

 

Dalamar didn't dare touch the door to Fistandantilus study, the lich always knew he was there when he did, so listening at the keyhole was out of the question. Instead, he sat on the landing beside the door, listening to the snatches of conversations from inside. Half an hour into his vigil, Rannoch returned and sank down through the floor until they were eye to eye, a question in his dead eyes.

"She is the sister of the man the lich is possessing." Dalamar whispered, so low even he could barely hear it, but Rannoch would have no trouble. He hugged his legs, and exhaled. "She hated him, no wonder they get on." Spitting.

Rannoch waved towards the door, again questioning.

"He is trying to win her as an ally, she has a large army." By the expression in the Spectre’s eyes, he was feeling sorry for Kitiara, it was almost amusing.

The hand gestured to him, reminding Dalamar of Darken Wood, why was he here?

"If she doesn't bend to his will, and she might not, I doubt she is the kind to share power, then she will be his enemy, and our ally." As vile as he found Kitiara, and a rare as the warning from the Silvanesti Nightmare still was, it would be worth the risk to count a Dragon Highlord as an ally against Fistandantilus. Rannoch's eyes bobbed in a nod.

 

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

 

The sounds from within were muted, the low voices mixing with the cracking of a fire until only a few snatches of conversation were audible. By what Dalamar could piece together after listening for several hours, Fistandantilus was telling Kitiara the same story as he had told Crysania.

"This plan of you is crazy!" Kitiara's voice, shockingly loud made them both jump. Dalamar was stiff with cold and tiredness, and nearly gave into the urge to press his ear to the door. "It's senseless! A waste of time. With your help, we could rule Ansalon, you and I. In fact --" Gods, she was stupid. "-- With your power we could rule the world. We don't need that Crysania or your hulking brother--"

 

"Rule the world?" The scorn in Fistandantilus' voice was palpable. "Rule the world? You still don't understand; do you, my dear sister? Let me make this as plain as I know how."

 

Dalamar didn't hear what was said, but Kitiara spoke up, too loud, perhaps she was drunk. "You don't want to rule the world, then that leaves only--" She broke off, and Dalamar smiled sadly to Rannoch, at last, she understood.

 

"Now you understand, now you see the importance of this Revered Daughter of Paladine! It was fate which brought her to me, just when I was nearing the time of my journey."

Rannoch seemed the shrink, as though tempted to sick through the floor and away. The Spectre had seen Fistandantilus' 'fate' at work.

 

"How -- how do you know she will follow you? Surely you didn't tell her!"

 

"Only enough to plant the seed in her breast, my performance was, frankly, one of my best. Reluctantly I spoke, my words drawn from me by her goodness and purity. They came out, stained with blood and she was mine... lost through her own pity. She will come, she and that buffoon of a brother. He will serve me unwittingly of course. But then, that's how he does everything." Dalamar felt sick, the lich's gloating was like drinking a draught of poison. He wanted to break something.

A long silence, Dalamar could almost hear Kitiara digesting his words. "You can be on a winning side for once, my sister."

 

Dalamar smiled, Fistandantilus had made a mistake, Kitiara would never join him now.

"I must get back," she sounded distant, not hostile, but then she wouldn't show that, yet. "You will contact me upon your return?"

 

"If I am successful, there will be no need to contact you, you will know."

 

Rannoch touched Dalamar’s arm, dragging at his sleeve. It took Dalamar a moment to realise what he wanted. The two within were about to leave and it would go badly for him if he were seen here. He got up stiffly, joins aching. Rannoch urged him upstairs, but Dalamar descended, listening at the voices as the door of the study opened. "Farewell then, my brother. I am sorry you do not share my desire for the good things in this life!" And there was a threat if Dalamar had ever heard one. "We couldn't have done much together, you and I!"

 

"Farewell Kitiara," Fistandantilus hissed, "Oh, by the way. I owe you this life, dear sister. Or so I have learnt. I want to let you know that -- with the death of Lord Ariakas, who would have undoubtedly have killed you -- I consider that debt paid. I owe you nothing." The door closed like a death knell.

 

Dalamar heard Kitiara's boots clumping downstairs and leant against the wall, he waiting until Kitiara had drawn parallel to him, too busy with her thoughts to see him, before he stepped forwards. "Kitiara."

 

The Dragon Highlord jumped, almost dropping of the landing. "Dalamar!"

 

"It has been a long time, has it not?"

 

"I shouldn't be surprised, where you get one --" She glanced upstairs.

 

Dalamar crossed his arms, "He is dead to me." And no truer word was spoken.

 

"You know he's mad." Kitiara frowned, he could see her thinking it over. She was finally thinking along his lines, although she must still hate him, having an ally in an enemy's stronghold was no weak advantage. "He must be stopped. You'd be willing --"

 

"Please," Dalamar smiled thinly, "Let me walk you to the gate." He would ally with a viper if there was a chance for it to kill Fistandantilus.

 

Lord Soth swept down behind her, and she turned irritably to the Death Knight. “It will not be easy, I know,” She snapped. “But we do not have to confront him directly. His scheme hinges on Lady Crysania. Remove her, and we stop him.”

 

“I want him dead.” Dalamar said shortly. “If you think this would be enough to stop him—“

 

“It will buy us time. He need never know I had anything to do with it, in fact. Many have died, trying to enter the forest of Wayreth. Isn’t that so?”

 

It was probably not meant as a barb, but Dalamar gritted his teeth anyway. Fistandantilus would probably know it was she who killed Crysania, but he wasn’t about to say that.

 

Dalamar opened the front door. “Wait.” He beckoned Rannoch, who nodded. The Spectre knew what he meant. “Get it.”

 

Kitiara paused, waiting at the entrance, she turned to Soth. “You handle it. Make it appear to be... fate.” She murmured. “My little brother believes in that, apparently.” Dalamar snorted. “When I was small, I taught him to refuse to do my bidding meant a whipping. It seems he must learn that lesson again!”

 

Dalamar sneered, “If you think you can conquer him alone, girl, you have much to learn, he is more powerful than he was in Neraka, more powerful than he was in the Dream.” He looked at her.

 

Kitiara quailed, then tried to cover it with a smile. “You remember—“

 

“Oh yes, I remember.” Rannoch returned; a thread of hair in his hand. Dalamar took it, and handed it to Soth. “Here, a hair from the cleric. I am sure you will find use for it.”

 

Soth nodded, Kitiara smiled. “Well, this is a surprise, I didn’t think you would—“

 

Dalamar sneered. “Go, before he suspects something. You have the stone, and he will be gone soon. Come back after he leaves, after you have killed the cleric.”

 

Kitiara gave her crooked smile, and turned to leave, running one hand down Dalamar’s shoulder. The Dark elf stiffened. “If you remember that dream, you’d better not forget how it ended, hmm?”

 

Dalamar said nothing, watching until they left. He touched his shoulder, through the gloves and his thick robes, Kitiara’s hands had been warm. It had traced down where her sword had cut him down in the Dream. “I wonder if she remembers how it ended for her?” He murmured to the Spectre’s confused eyes, and closed the door.

 

 

Skull Bearer

Comments

[fatranka.livejournal.com]

Yay, new chapter! Thank you very much, I liked it!