Kevin Stein: Brothers Majere

"I've never stolen anything in my life!" Earwig cried indignantly. He lifted a glass tube filled with glowing blue sapphires from the box.

"Look at this!" he said in awe. "Did you ever see anything more beautiful?" A line of blue light trailed from the jewels back into the box.

"I don't think you should do that," Caramon said nervously. "Put it – "

Without warning, one of the hands reached out, grabbed the tube, and replaced it in the box. Caramon braced himself for an attack, but the hand returned to its incomprehensible wavings.

"Wasn't that great, Caramon? Let's see if it'll do it again!"

Earwig reached in and took hold of a glass tube lined with black obsidian. Rubies and emeralds and sapphires gleamed in the center. The kender pulled, but he couldn't budge it.

The hands seemed to pause in their wavings. Caramon had the uneasy impression he was being watched by unseen eyes.

"Earwig," he said in a low undertone. "I think you've found something there."

"I know, but" – the kender tugged, his face turning red – "it won't come out!"

Caramon risked a glance. "Give it a twist." His arms were beginning to give beneath the lid's weight. "Hurry! I don't think I can hold this open much longer!"

Earwig put both hands around the tube and tried to rotate it, but his fingers slipped on the smooth container.

'Try the other way," Caramon suggested.

He was watching the hands closely and could have sworn that he saw the fingers twitch in alarm. We're doing something that somebody doesn't like, Caramon thought grimly. He only wished he knew what.

The kender turned the tube to his left.

"I've got it!" he shouted. "It's giving way!" He twisted it harder.

"Great! Keep going and – "

A shadowy hand suddenly gripped Caramon around the neck. Two others caught him beneath his shoulders and began to tug at him. He exerted his strength against them, keeping a tight grip on the lid.

"I don't know… how long… I can keep this… raised!" he gasped. "Hurry!"

"Hurry? Hurry and do what?" Earwig cried frantically, twisting faster.

The tube was slowly coming out of its hole. Hands reached for him, but seemed unwilling to touch him, perhaps because he held the tube.

"What am I supposed to do after I get it?"

Caramon could only grunt in answer. His face was twisted in pain, turning red with the strain of trying to hang on to the lid and pulling against the hands.

"I've got it!" Earwig yanked out the tube.

He stared into it, shook it, and held it against his ear, listening for a sound. Fingers on the hands near him curled and twitched, as if in an agony of frustration.

Caramon issued a smothered scream. More hands were descending, gripping him, endeavoring to haul him up into the air. He clung to the lid with all his strength.

"Do something!"

"I'm trying!" Earwig gasped.

He turned the tube over and over. "Argh!" he finally cried in frustration and smashed the tube against the side of the box.

A high-pitched keening noise cut through the air, piercing the head. Caramon had never heard anything so horrible, felt anything more painful. He dropped the lid, and it closed with a slam. Hands wrapped around his throat and began choking out his life.

Shoulders hunched to try to block out the noise, Earwig bashed the dark cylinder against the side of the box again.

Caramon felt himself losing consciousness. His neck was thick, but the hands were strong and were slowly cutting off his air.

Earwig, looking at his friend, saw the warrior's mouth gaping open, his eyes bulging from his head.

"Break!" the kender commanded frantically, and hit the tube against the box once again. The bottom of the tube gave way, and a smaller tube slid out. Inside it was a band of gold.

"Oh, no!" Earwig groaned.

Kender aren't afraid anything, but this one had definitely had his fill of rings.

I have to do something, though. They're killing, Cara-mon. He shook the tube and the ring rolled out into his palm.

What do you want of me? boomed a voice.

"You again!" Earwig muttered.

The hands near him curled into fists. One swung at him. Earwig ducked. The air whistling past from the force of the blow nearly knocked him down. He looked at Caramon. His friend had lost consciousness and was hanging limply in the grip of the hands that were slowly hauling the big man up into the air.

Earwig looked back at the ring.

"I want out of here!" he cried.

Put the ring on your thumb, Yowr Dark Majesty, and the gate will open.

"Well, I'm not a Dark Majesty, but there's certainly no time to go and find someone who is. Here goes!" said Earwig and shoved the ring onto his thumb.

"No!" shrieked a terrible-sounding voice, and it seemed to the kender that five voices were actually screaming at once. "It is not the time! I do not have the power of the Eye!"

A blast of air hit the kender, knocking him flat on top of Caramon. The darkness rushed past him, and then the street rushed past him and then buildings and ugly creatures rushed past him, all seeming to be going somewhere in a tremendous hurry. Oddly enough, however, they all seemed to be going backward.

And then the rushing ceased.

Earwig, feeling tumbled and upsidedown, didn't know for a minute if he was on his head or his feet. In actuality, he was on Caramon. And Caramon was lying on a white stone street.

Earwig knelt down and put his small hand over Cara-mon's heart. It was beating strongly. He could feel the warrior's chest rise and fall, breathing in air. But the big man was unconscious. Earwig could hear sounds of fighting quite near him – horrible screams and shrieks.

"Like a bunch of cats in barrel," said the kender. Looking around, he saw the magical lights – dim but shining. He saw the arcade and the inn where Catherine had kissed him.

"We're back!" he said, slightly disappointed. "Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted."

Settling down beside Caramon, waiting for the warrior to regain consciousness. Earwig admired his new ring.

What if I were to tell you that I am not interested in an alliance with the Dark Queen?" Raistlin asked softly.

Shavas raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You think you will gain that much power without Her Dark Majesty making some attempt to stop you?" The woman began to laugh. 'This is one of the reasons you are so incredibly attractive to me, Raistlin. You fear nothing."

" Those who live in fear fall prey to their own disquiet.' "

"Yes. Eyavel would be one of your favorite authors. 'And you, gentle reader, must follow in my path, for I am the way you must know.' Ali Azra, another of your favorites" Shavas set her half-emptied brandy glass down on the sideboard. "The wizard knew where to turn, who to worship. Like him, you could find great power. And great pleasure."

The woman removed her gown, twisting open the buttons one at a time, twenty-three in all. She shrugged her shoulders with a slow, graceful movement. The silk gown fell to the floor. Firelight gleamed on her white skin, casting a ruddy glow that emphasized the shadowy curves of her body.

She moved near him. Reaching up, Shavas touched Raistlin's face with the tips of her fingers.

The mage clasped her hands, feeling the coolness of her flesh against the burning warmth of his own. A shudder ran through his body, a shudder that the woman could sense.

Shavas pulled away from him, staring at him uncertainly, suspiciously.

Raistlin lifted his brandy glass, but his shaking hand nearly dropped it. He set it back down and turned abruptly to look at the game board, staring at the piece of his champion. As he watched, he saw it twist into a hideous, undead warrior. The mage sat down, afraid that his legs would not support him.