Kevin Stein - Brothers Majere

He heard a puff of breath, then a metal dart struck him in the finger. Caramon fell forward, losing his grip on his sword.

He could see Earwig now, and he stared up at his friend, who was standing on a large stone dais, hoopak in hand. The top had been removed, turning it into a blowgun.

"That's one of those poisoned darts, Caramon," said the kender. "I found it on the floor the night the assassin came. You'll be dead pretty soon."

"Why?" Caramon managed weakly, feeling himself begin to grow lightheaded. Heat rushed up from his arm to engulf his face and neck.

"You must die, Majere!" the kender hissed, his face twisted into an expression of cruel triumph. "Our plans cannot be stopped!"

Caramon fell to his knees, leaning back against the smooth, unmarked wall. His head bent to one side, black and silver stars flickered before his eyes. His mouth was dry, and his lips could barely shape the words.

"Whose plans?"

"Whose plans?" Earwig mocked.

He raised his arm above his head, pulling down the sleeve on his brown tunic to reveal his hand. The gold band flashed in the torchlight.

Beware the ring! Raistlin's voice echoed in Caramon's mind.

The ceiling had darkened. Motes of light appeared, forming pictures and patterns the warrior found vaguely familiar The poison dulled his mind like a stone against the edge of a sword.

Earwig laughed. "Yes! Look! Look up into your doom! Worship our Queen! Our Queen of Darkness! Takhisis! Takhisis! We celebrate your return to the world!"

Caramon didn't understand. "Earwig," he whispered, shivering. "Help me!"

The kender stared down at his friend, and his features softened. Suddenly, he cried, "Help me, Caramon! I can't stop!"

Pulling a dagger from his belt. Earwig leaped off the stone and ran at the warrior.

The Lord of the Cats slid through the streets of the city, a blur of dark shadow in the moonlit night. He bypassed most of the town's guard, avoiding Lord Cal's command troops by traveling up side streets and over buildings, climbing with incredible agility, using nothing more than his hands and long, perfect nails.

At the edge of the city limits, he ascended to the rooftops to get a better view. He could see that most of the people were safely locked behind their doors, windows shut and barred. There were still a few roaming about the town, set on spilling the mage's blood. But most of the mobs had dispersed, their members hurrying home to their wives and family before the coming of the Festival of the Eye. No children in Mereklar would be going out this night to beg for cookies.

Reaching the last building on Southgate Street, Bast leaped the great distance between the dwelling and the wall, jumping gracefully through the air to land without sound. He came to his feet instantly, prepared for danger. He paused, listening intently, then turned to face the lands outside the white barriers of Mereklar. Standing straight, he raised his arms above his head and called to his dominion, summoning them to the world's end.

Waving the knife wildly, Earwig ran straight at Caramon. The big warrior managed to catch the kender and ward off the knife, both of them falling to the floor. Earwig struggled to free himself, the small body flailing on top of the fighter's huge frame. Caramon, weakened by the poison, rolled over and pinioned the kender with a wrestling hold, his arm jammed under the small, pointed chin.

"What in the name of the Abyss are you doing?" Caramon grunted.

"You're not dead yet!" Earwig shrieked.

"No thanks to you! Oof – "

The kender had slipped his leg underneath the fighter and kicked upward, landing his attack just below the abdomen.

Caramon fell back with a groan. Earwig slashed with the knife, ripping open the warrior's shoulder before the blade came up against the leather harness and flipped out of the kender's hands.

Finding himself defenseless. Earwig fell back, taking refuge behind the stone dais.

Caramon leaned against the wall. The wound in his shoulder wasn't deep, and he managed to stop the bleeding by pressing part of his shirt against it. He reached under his belt and pulled out his cestus, slipping it over his fingers, driving the metal into his flesh to help retain his failing consciousness. He, too, wondered why he wasn't dead.

As awful as I feel, I sort of wish I were, he thought briefly, pain twisting his insides.

Earwig was staring at him hopefully, perhaps waiting for him to keel over. Using the smooth stone as a prop, Caramon slid back up the wall, pushing with his powerful legs. Three throwing spikes clattered beside his head, bouncing off the smooth stone and falling to his feet. The fighter was late to duck, then realized that the weapons had already missed. Three more projectiles flew out from behind the dais, and two struck him in the arm and chest, bouncing off his armor.

If I don't stop the kender soon, Caramon thought, it'll be a race to see if I die from the poison or loss of blood! Taking a deep breath, he dropped to his knees and began to crawl around the giant disk, hoping to take the kender by surprise. The chamber was very quiet, and he knew he sounded as loud as a dwarf on a drinking binge, but he couldn't help it.

Caramon saw movement and sprang, attempting to grab his friend. But the kender dodged backward and threw an egg at the ground, breaking it open, creating billowing clouds of foul-smelling smoke.

Beware the ring!

If I can get hold of him, maybe I can get the cursed thing off his finger, Caramon thought desperately. The warrior peered through the smoke, blinking back tears that streamed down his cheeks.

"Earwig, are you here?"

"Of course, I'm here. I'm waiting to kill you!" The voice came from the opposite side of the chamber.

"No, I don't want to talk to you!" Caramon shouted, having the strangest impression that there were two different kender in the room. "I want to talk to Earwig! I'm his friend."

"Caramon, help – " came a muffled voice, but it was cut off.

Good, if I can just keep him off-balance… Caramon began to babble, talking about the first thing that came into his head. "Hey, Earwig, the cats really miss you, especially that black one that kept following you around. Remember him?"

"All the cats will die! I'll kill them, too!"

"Why do you want to kill the cats, Earwig?"

"I don't, Caramon," came the kender's voice. "You've got to believe – " he faltered, then shouted, "The prophecy speaks. Hear its words. The cats alive are the turning stone, they decide the fate, darkness or light.' Darkness will triumph!"

The kender had moved, and Caramon was no longer sure where, though the smoke was beginning to dissipate. He sat still, gathering his strength, hoping soon to be able to see.

"Oh, by the way. Earwig. Catherine says to tell you she's sorry. She feels real bad about what she did."

"Catherine? Catherine who?" It was Earwig who answered, sounding lost and frightened.

"Catherine. The girl at the tavern. The one who kissed you."

"I remember! I… I… I need your help, Caramon. She's trying to control me, and I can't stop her!" Earwig cried.

"I'll help you, Earwig, just tell me where you are," the fighter called.

"I'm right here!"

The kender leaped on Caramon's shoulders. Grabbing Caramon by the hair, the kender pulled the warripr's head back and tried to slash his neck with a knife.

Caramon, roaring like a wounded bull, reached back over his head, caught Earwig, and jerked him forward. The kender slammed against the wall and lay motionless.

The warrior eyed him warily a moment to see if he was shamming. The kender was obviously out cold.

Caramon lifted the kender's left arm and held it up to the dim light in the chamber. Grasping the gold ring, he tugged. As Raistlin had discovered, the band would not come off.