Margaret Weis - Test of the Twins

“Most assuredly.” The dark elf shivered and pulled his black robes about him closer with his good hand. “One breath, one blink, one twitch, and they will rend him limb from limb and devour him.”

Caramon nodded.

How can he be so calm? Tanis wondered. And a voice within him replied, it is the calm of one who knows and accepts his fate.

“In Astinus’s book,” Caramon continued, “he wrote that Raistlin, knowing he would have to concentrate his magic upon fighting the Queen, opened the Portal to make sure of his escape route before he went into battle. Thus, when he arrived, he would find it ready for him to enter when he returned to this world.”

“He also knew undoubtedly that he would be too weakened by that time to open it himself,” Dalamar murmured. “He would need to be at the height of his strength. Yes, you are right. He will open it, and soon. And when he does, anyone with the strength and courage necessary to pass the boundary may enter.”

The dark elf closed his eyes, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He had refused a potion to ease the pain. “If you fail,” he had said to Caramon, “I am our last hope.”

Our last hope, thought Tanis—a dark elf. This is insane! It can’t be happening. Leaning against the stone table, he let his head sink into his hands. Name of the gods, he was tired! His body ached, his wounds burned and stung. He had removed the breast plate of his armor—it felt as heavy as a gravestone, slung around his neck. But as much as his body hurt, his soul hurt worse.

Memories flitted about him like the guardians of the Tower, reaching out to touch him with their cold hands. Caramon sneaking food off Flint’s plate while the dwarf had his back turned. Raistlin conjuring up visions of wonder and delight for the children of Flotsam. Kitiara, laughing, throwing her arms around his neck, whispering into his ear. Tanis’s heart shrank within him, the pain brought tears to his eyes. No! It was all wrong! Surely it wasn’t supposed to end this way! A book swam into his blurred vision—Caramon’s s book, resting upon the stone table, the last book of Astinus. Or is that how it was going to end? He became aware, then, of Caramon looking at him in concern. Angrily, he wiped his eyes and his face and stood up with a sigh. But the spectres remained with him, hovering near him. Near him... and near the burned and broken body that lay in the corner beneath his cloak.

Human, half-elf, and dark elf watched the Portal in silence. A water clock on the mantle kept track of time, the drops falling one by one with the regularity of a heartbeat. The tension in the room stretched until it seemed it must snap and break, whipping around the laboratory with stinging fury. Dalamar began muttering in elven. Tanis glanced at him sharply, fearing the dark elf might be delirious. The mage’s face was pale, cadaverous, his eyes surrounded by deep, purple shadows had sunken into their sockets. Their gaze never shifted, they stared always into the swirling void.

Even Caramon’s calm appeared to be slipping. His big hands clenched and unclenched nervously, sweat covered his body, glistening in the light of the five heads of the dragon. He began to shiver, involuntarily. The muscles in his arms twitched and bunched spasmodically. And then Tanis felt a strange sensation creep over him. The air was still, too still. Sounds of battle raging in the city outside the Tower—sounds that he had heard without even being aware of it—suddenly ceased. Inside the Tower, too, sound hushed. The words Dalamar muttered died on his lips.

The silence blanketed them, as thick and stifling as the darkness in the corridor, as the evil within the room. The dripping of the water clock grew louder, magnified, every drop seeming to jar Tanis’s bones. Dalamar’s eyes jerked open, his hand twitched, nervously grasping his black robes between white-knuckled fingers.

Tanis moved closer to Caramon, only to find the big man reaching out for him.

Both spoke at once. “Caramon...”

“Tanis...”

Desperately, Caramon grasped hold of Tanis’s arm. “You’ll take care of Tika for me, wont you?”

“Caramon, I cant let you go in there alone!” Tanis gripped him. “I’ll come—”

“No, Tanis,” Caramon’s voice was firm. “If I fail, Dalamar will need your help. Tell Tika good-bye, and try to explain to her, Tanis. Tell her I love her very much, so much I—” His voice broke. He couldn’t go on. Tanis held onto him tightly.

“I know what to tell her, Caramon,” he said, remembering a letter of good-bye of his own. Caramon nodded, shaking the tears from his eyes and drawing a deep, quivering breath. “And say good-bye to Tas. I-I don’t think he ever did understand. Not really.” He managed a smile. “Of course, you’ll have to get him out of that flying castle first.”

“I think he knew, Caramon,” Tanis said softly.

The dragon’s heads began to make a shrill sound, a faint scream that seemed to come from far away.

Caramon tensed.

The screaming grew louder, nearer, and more shrill. The Portal burned with color, each head of the dragon glistened brilliantly.

“Make ready,” Dalamar warned, his voice cracking.

“Good-bye, Tanis.” Caramon held onto his hand tightly.

“Good-bye, Caramon.”

Releasing his hold on his friend, Tanis stepped back.

The void parted. The Portal opened.

Tanis looked into it—he knew he looked into it, for he could not turn away. But he could never recall clearly what he saw. He dreamed of it, even years later. He knew he dreamed of it because he would wake in the night, drenched in sweat. But the image was always just fading from his consciousness, never to be grasped by his waking mind. And he would lie, staring into the darkness, trembling, for hours after.

But that was later. All he knew now was that he had to stop Caramon! But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t cry out. Transfixed, horror-stricken, he watched as Caramon, with a last, quiet look, turned and mounted the golden platform.

The dragons shrieked in warning, triumph, hatred... Tanis didn’t know. His own cry, wrenched from his body, was lost in the shrill, deafening sound.

There was a blinding, swirling, crashing wave of many colored light.

And then it was dark.

Caramon was gone.

“May Paladine be with you,” Tanis whispered, only to hear, to his discomfiture, Dalamar’s cool voice, echo, “Takhisis, my Queen, go with you.”

“I see him,” said Dalamar, after a moment. Staring intently into the Portal, he half-rose, to see more clearly. A gasp of pain, forgotten in the excitement, escaped him. Cursing, he sank back down into the chair, his pale face covered with sweat.

Tanis ceased his restless pacing and came to stand beside Dalamar. “There,” the dark elf pointed, his breath coming from between clenched teeth.

Reluctantly, still feeling the effects of the shock that lingered from when he had first looked into the Portal, Tanis looked into it again. At first he could see nothing but a bleak and barren landscape stretching beneath a burning sky. And then he saw red-tinged light glint off bright armor. He saw a small figure standing near the front of the Portal, sword in hand, facing away from them, waiting...

“How will he close it?” Tanis asked, trying to speak calmly though grief choked his voice.

“He cannot,” Dalamar replied.

Tanis stared at him in alarm. “Then what will stop the Queen from entering again?”

“She cannot come through unless one comes through ahead of her, half-elf,” Dalamar answered, somewhat irritably. “Otherwise, she would have entered long before this. Raistlin keeps it open. If he comes through it, she will follow. With his death, it will close.”

“So Caramon must kill him—his brother?”