Kevin Stein: Brothers Majere

Raistlin thought of the sickness, the pain, the terrifying moments when he feared he would never be able to draw the next breath. He thought of being always dependent on his brother. He thought of women, gazing at him with expressions of horror or pity. Never expressions of love.

Raistlin thought of the magic, burning in his blood.

"The choice is made," he murmured.

Yes, said the other. Long ago. Here, then, is your reward.

Raistlin stood before great falls of light, the bands of magic traveling inside the Staff of Magius in the infinite spaces between the runes of the cantrips, a place where ancient knowledge waited for the touch of his summoning gold fingers. He embraced a silver strand with his will, a pass to the past that showed him surmounting a mountain with three other wizards – pictures of another time that he felt with all his senses.

White robe, red robe, and black walked slowly, braving storm and gale and lightning, moving up a path cut into the rock by natural forces to a high plateau. They looked over the whole of the world standing at the edge.

"It is time," the white robe said.

'To lose our lives for a greater cause," the red robe said.

"To give our gods greater power than any one of us could command," the black robe said.

They cast their spell and died, wrenched apart by the powers they summoned, trapped in the three heavenly spheres.

Raistlin watched their actions, the motions they made with their hands, the words uttered above the winds that whipped their clothes with violence, and knew that the might of the Great Eye could be his to command.

He lifted the wand. It began to glow red in his hand.

"He's ours!" said Lord Cal, laughing, and turned back to face the Lord of the Cats.

A bolt of red shot from Raistlin's wand and struck Lord Cal in the back. The man screamed in rage and pain, the searing beam melting clothes and flesh. He whirled to face his enemy, but his strength gave out. Writhing in agony, he crumpled to the ground.

Bast lashed out with his right hand, stabbing his fingers into Lord Alvin's throat, tearing a great wound that severed the man's head. Alvin fell, dead.

The other minsters, yelling in rage, attacked the Lord of Cats. Raistlin dared not help, fearing that any spell he would cast would harm the man in black.

Bast needed no help, it seemed. He took one of his enemies by the chest with a sweeping kick and killed the other with an open-palmed strike to the forehead, snapping the head back, skull crushed and neck broken.

The night was silent once again.

Raistlin came forward, leaning on the staff.

The bodies of the ministers lay on the ground, reddish liquid appeared black in the moonlight. Around each neck he could see, shining, silver cats' skulls.

"What are they?" asked the mage.

"See them in their true form," answered Bast.

The corpses began to undergo a horrible change. Their bodies twisted and contorted, black fur grew from their skin, hands and feet changed to paws – an evil, demented dream of cats.

"Demons," said Raistlin.

"Agents from the Abyss," replied Bast.

"The 'lady' of whom they spoke – "

"Takhisis, Queen of Darkness." The Lord of the Cats answered quietly, in awe and reverence.

Raistlin felt a shudder run through his body, a shivering premonition. "Not yet!" he whispered. "Not yet! I am not strong enough." He drew a deep breath. "And now?"

"That is your decision, mage. Krynn is in peril. The land will know five ages, but the last shall not come if darkness succeeds, coming through the gate.' The Queen is trying to enter the world. Her way must be stopped."

Raistlin looked at the Lord of Cats – a demi-god – torn by the demons' claws. "If you could not withstand them, how can I?"

"The nine sent were the most powerful among their kind. They murdered the true lords and ladies of Mereklar and took their places on the council. They would have opened the gate without hindrance, but for you."

"But there are ten on the council."

"Shavas is something you must discover for yourself. Now I must leave." As Raistlin watched, the Cat Lord's wounds began to heal. "However, I am compelled to ask you this directly, though I think I know your answer. Will you help us stop the Dark Queen?"

Raistlin looked down at the councillor's wand, faintly glowing red in his hand.

The choice is made.

He tossed the wand to the ground, brought the metal-shod tip of the staff down hard upon it. The wand splintered, and its red glow faded and died.

"Keep near," said Bast, and Raistlin found himself in a large chamber. Flickering torches filled the room with a stifling gray light. Men wearing black leather armor stood near a huge stone dais.

Caramon, injured and bleeding, sat on the floor, cradling Earwig in his arms.

Raistlin knelt down swiftly beside his twin.

"Caramon," he said softly.

The big man lifted his head, too dazed and grief-stricken to be surprised at the sight of his brother.

"It's Earwig, Raist! You were right about the ring. He was possessed. When I took the ring off, he began to scream. He shot me with that poisoned dart there, but it didn't kill me."

Raistlin listened to Caramon's slightly incoherent account, then reached down on the floor to examine both the poisoned dart and the ring.

Looking at the dart closely, he saw scratch marks on the metal tip. "Much of the poison was worn off before the dart hit you. It appears" – Raistlin glanced at the ken-der and almost smiled – "that it has been used to pick a lock."

Caramon wasn't paying attention. The big man was vainly trying to sooth the babbling kender.

Raistlin lifted the ring warily, holding it in the palm of his hand. Almost immediately, he heard the silken whisper: Put me on. Put me on.

He stared at it, thinking he had seen the ring somewhere before.

No, he realized. I haven't seen it! I've seen where it is supposed to be!

Shavas's necklace – the opal she wore around her neck. Closing his eyes, he pictured the golden band fitting around the top of the jewel where it attached to the chain. Swiftly, he thrust the ring into one of his pouches.

The kender began to writhe and thrash about, screaming, "In my head! In my head! In my head!"

"I can't help him, Raistlin!" said Caramon, looking up at his brother with pleading eyes. "Can't you do something?"

"No, my brother," said Raistlin softly. "But there is one here who can."l›

Bast bent down, touched Earwig's forehead. The kender blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Hi, Caramon! Why are you holding me^- Hey! You've been in a fight!" Earwig cried accusingly, pointing at the blood on the warrior's sleeve. He sprang to his feet. "You've been in a fight, and you let me sleep through it again!"

"Earwig," said the confused warrior. "I – Wait!"

The kender lashed out with his small foot and kicked Caramon in the shins.

"Ouch! Drat it. Earwig. Let me explain – "

"What must we do?" Raistlin asked the Cat Lord.

Bast's long, white teeth flashed. "You must decide. I cannot intervene."

"It seems to me, my lord," said Raistlin dryly, "that you have already intervened!"

"I have done nothing. The choices have always been yours."

Yes, thought Raistlin. You are right. The choices have always been mine. Now it is up to me to put together what I have learned.

"Mereklar itself is the gate spoken of in the prophecy. Tonight, when the Great Eye forms, the Dark Queen will try to use its magic to open the gate."

"How do you know that?" Caramon asked, looking at his brother dubiously.

"From the model in the dead wizard's cave. You saw the lines glowing then. I have seen the lines glowing ever since I was in the Black Cat Inn. I didn't know what they were until the wizard touched me. He gave me his knowledge, to avenge himself on the one who had destroyed him."