Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

“The goddess lights our way to dawn,” he said. “A good omen.” Caramon hoped his twin was right. Now that they were committed to this, Caramon wanted to get as far away from the others as fast as possible. Raistlin, fortunately, was having one of his good days. He hardly coughed at all. He moved nimbly and rapidly along the trail. They made good time, descending the mountainside to the valley floor and heading off to the southwest. Reaching a forested area, they walked among the trees and were soon out of sight of the encampment and any early risers.

Caramon was breathing easier when a rattle of armor and a clash of metal on metal caused him to drop the packs and reach for his sword. Raistlin’s hand went to his pouch of spell components. Sturm Brightblade stepped out from the red-tinged shadows of the tree branches. He stood in the path, blocking their way.

Raistlin shot Caramon a furious look.

“I didn’t tell him, Raist! Honest!” Caramon gabbled.

“Your brother said nothing to me, Raistlin,” Sturm confirmed, “so spare him your anger. As to how I found out, that was easy. I have known you for a good many years, long enough to realize that you will follow your own selfish pursuits without thought or care for others. I knew when you left the meeting last night that you intended to sneak off to Skullcap.”

“Then,” said Raistlin, glowering, “you should also know that you cannot stop me, so stand aside and permit me and my brother to pass.” He paused, then added, “For the sake of our friendship, I would not want to do you harm.”

Sturm’s hand went to his sword’s hilt, but he did not draw his weapon. His gaze flicked to Caramon, then back to his twin. “I have no quarrel with you risking your own life, Raistlin. Indeed, it is no secret that I think the world would be a better place if you were not in it, but there is no need for you to get your brother killed.”

“Caramon goes of his own choosing,” Raistlin returned, smiling a twisted smile at the knight’s candor. “Don’t you, my brother?”

“Raistlin says we have to go, Sturm,” Caramon told the knight. “He says Flint and Tanis won’t be able to find the gate to Thorbardin without the secret key that lies in Skullcap.”

“There are many important reasons why they should win their way into Thorbardin, aren’t there, Sturm Brightblade?” Raistlin said with a slight cough.

Sturm regarded Raistlin intently.

“I will let you go on one condition,” said Sturm. Releasing his grip on his sword, he stood to one side. “I’m coming with you.”

Caramon cringed, fearing Raistlin would fly into a rage.

Instead, Raistlin gave Sturm a strange, narrow-eyed look, then said quietly, “I have no objection to the knight’s accompanying us. Do you, my brother?”

“No,” said Caramon, astonished.

“In fact, he might actually be of some use to me.” Raistlin pushed past the knight and continued along the trail that led through the woods.

Sturm retrieved a sack that, by the clanging sounds emanating from it, held the bulk of his armor. The knight wore the breastplate with the rose and kingfisher, symbol of the Solamnic knighthood, and his helm. He carried the rest.

“Does Tanis know?” Caramon asked in a low voice, as Sturm joined him on the trail.

“He does. I shared with him my suspicion that Raistlin would go off on his own,” Sturm replied, positioning the sack more comfortably on his shoulder.

“Did… uh… Tika say anything to him?”

Sturm smiled. “So you told her, but did not tell Tanis?”

Caramon flushed deeply. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Tika kind of cornered me. Is she very angry?” he asked wistfully.

Sturm didn’t answer. He smoothed his long mustaches, the knight’s way of avoiding an unpleasant discussion.

Caramon sighed and shook his head. “I’m surprised Tanis didn’t try to stop Raist.”

“He thinks there is something in what Raistlin claims, though he didn’t want to say so in front of Hederick. If we can find the key to the gates of Thorbardin and if we can find the gates in time, we are to bring word to him immediately.”

“How will we know where to find him?” Caramon asked. “He’s going trekking off over the mountains with Flint.”

Sturm shot Caramon a penetrating glance. “It’s interesting that Raistlin didn’t think to ask Tanis that, isn’t it? My guess is that he plans to seek out Thorbardin himself if he finds the key. What do you think he might be after in Skullcap?”

“I… I don’t know,” Caramon said, staring down at his boots tromping over the snow-rimed grass.

“I never thought about that.”

Sturm gave him a sharp look. “No,” he said quietly, “I don’t suppose you would.”

“Raist says we are going to help the people!” Caramon said defensively. Sturm grunted. Then he said in a low voice, “How does he know where he’s going? How does he know the way? Or are we wandering out here aimlessly?”

Caramon watched his twin walking confidently along the trail between the trees. The mage walked more slowly now, feeling his way along, sometimes tapping the ground with the butt of his staff like a blind man, yet, he didn’t appear lost. He walked with purpose and determination, and when he did stop to look around he would stop only briefly then continue on.

“He said he knows a way, a secret way.” Caramon saw Sturm’s look and added. “Raist knows lots of things. He reads books.”

Caramon was immediately sorry he’d spoken, for that brought up the unwelcome thought of the night-blue spellbook. He quickly banished the reminder. If Raistlin had found guidance in a book belonging to an evil wizard, Caramon didn’t want to know about it.

“Maybe Flint told him,” Caramon said, and the possibility cheered him. “Yeah, that’s it. Flint must have told him.”

Sturm knew it was hopeless to point out the obvious—Flint wouldn’t tell Raistlin the time of day. Caramon had lied to himself about his twin for so many years that he wouldn’t know the truth now if it gave him a swift kick in the backside.

Ranging ahead of the others, Raistlin knew perfectly well that his brother and the knight were talking about him. He even knew what they were saying. He could have quoted them both word for word. He didn’t care. Let the knight malign him. Caramon would defend him. Caramon always defended him. It was nauseating the way Caramon always defended him. Sometimes Raistlin found himself wishing Caramon would grow a backbone, stand up to him, defy him. Then he reflected that if this happened, Caramon would be of no more use to him, and he still needed Caramon. The day would come when he would be able to live independent of his twin but not now. Not yet.

Raistlin cast an oblique glance at the two men over his shoulder—his brother trotting along like a pack animal; Sturm Brightblade, impoverished knight, carrying his nobility around in a sack. Why is he coming along? Raistlin wondered. He found the notion intriguing. Certainly the noble knight is not worried about my well being! He professes to care for Caramon, yet Sturm knows perfectly well that Caramon is a seasoned warrior. My brother can take care of himself. Sturm has some reason of his own for tagging along with us. I wonder what that can be… Why is he so interested in Skullcap?

For that matter, Raistlin asked himself, why am I?

He did not know the answer.

Raistlin scanned the rock wall of the mountain that stood dead ahead of them blocking the way. He was searching for the image that was still shadowy in his mind, yet grew clearer and more distinct with every step he took. He knew what he was looking for—or rather, he would know it when he saw it. He knew a secret way that led to Skullcap, yet he didn’t know it. He had walked this path before, and he’d never before set foot on it. He’d been here, and he hadn’t. He’d done this without doing it.