Kevin Stein - Brother's Majere

“I don’t understand!” Caramon let his head fall into his hands.

“It’s simple.” Raistlin spoke like a teacher to a dullard pupil. “When induced into a user of magic, the poison I made causes all magical energy suffusing an area to flow into the wizard. After I refused her offer to align myself with the Dark Queen, Shavas cast a spell to destroy me. She destroyed herself, instead.”

“But, since you drank the poison-” Caramon hesitated, staring in disbelief.

“Yes.” Raistlin nodded. “If I had tried to cast a spell, it would have destroyed me instantly. I left myself defenseless. But it was the only way … the only way.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Caramon, but he spoke in a tone that admitted his belief. “She was so beautiful! So young!”

Raistlin began to cough. Hiding his face behind the white cloth he held to his mouth, he gazed at his brother from the shadows of his cowl.

I could tell you the truth. I could tell you that she was a lich. I could tell you she had been alive since before the Cataclysm. I could tell you that she had been Councillor of Mereklar since its beginning, taking the guise of one person, then another. I could tell you her life was bound in that opal necklace, giving her the semblance of youth, of beauty. I could tell you, my brother, that the lips you kissed were, in reality, rotting and decaying flesh.…

“Yes, my brother,” said Raistlin, reaching out his hand to touch Caramon’s arm. “She was very beautiful.”

The big man lifted his head and gazed at his twin in astonishment. Gingerly, fearing rebuff, he laid his hand on his brother’s.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Raistlin curled his thin fingers around his brother’s hand and held it tightly. The twins sat quietly together for a long time beside the stream, watching the water flow.