Margaret Weis - Dragons of the Hourglass Mage

And with her was Tanis Half-Elven.

Raistlin had not anticipated finding Tanis there, and he was annoyed. The presence of the half-elf could seriously disrupt his plans. Tanis was not standing at Kit's side; no one was allowed on the platform with the Highlord. But he was as close to her as he could manage, however, standing on the step leading to the throne.

Raistlin's lip curled. Tanis had come to Neraka to save the woman he loved. But did he know, even at that moment, which woman that was?

The council meeting proceeded. Raistlin, high above the thrones of the Highlords, could hear Ariakas's deep bellow, but much of what he was saying was swallowed by the vastness of the chamber. From what he could gather, Highlord Toede was not there because he had been slain by kender. And that news prompted a sound Raistlin could hear clearly-Kitiara's scornful laughter.

Ariakas was furious. He rose to his feet and started to descend the platform. Kitiara did not move. Her soldiers grabbed their weapons. Raistlin was amused to see Tanis take a protective step toward Kit, who remained seated on her throne, regarding Ariakas with a look of unutterable scorn. The other two Highlords were on their feet, watching with interest, neither offering any support, both probably hoping Ariakas and Kit would kill each other.

Raistlin walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down on Ariakas, who was directly beneath him. That was the moment to strike. No one was paying any attention to him. Everyone was watching the Highlords. Raistlin readied his magic.

Then he went blind. Darkness obliterated his sight, filled his mind, his heart, his lungs. He froze in place, for he was standing on the edge of the bridge. A wrong step would carry him over. He could always use the magic of his staff, which would allow him to float like a feather through the air, but everyone in the hall would see him, including Ariakas, unless they were all blind as he was at the moment. Reading his thoughts, an unseen hand tore his staff from his grasp and smote him in the back. His heart lurching in terror, he pitched forward. He landed, hard, on his knees, and though his wrists tingled and his knees were bruised, he shook with relief, for he had not plunged over the edge.

He reached out a shaking hand and felt nothing in front of him except air and realized how close he had come. He longed to crawl to safety, but he had lost all sense of direction and he feared that he might yet fall. The hand was pounding him, grinding him, crushing him into the stone. Then suddenly, when it seemed his heart would burst, the hand released him, the darkness lifted from his eyes. Raistlin scrambled back until he bumped into something solid, the Dark Queen's throne.

Raistlin turned to face her not because he wanted to, but because she compelled him. And that was her mistake.

She was a shadow, and for Raistlin the shadows held no terror.

He looked down to see his sister and the rest groveling in fear. Kitiara cowered on her throne. Tanis Half-Elven had been driven to his knees. Ariakas knelt before his Queen. They were nothing, and she was everything. Takhisis had her foot on their necks. Once she was assured of their submissiveness, once she was certain that they knew she owned them, she lifted her foot and permitted them to rise.

Her gaze flicked over Raistlin, and he knew himself forgotten. He was nothing, a nonentity, a grain of sand, a speck of dust, a drop of water, a flake of ash. Her attention was focused on those who held the power, those who were important to her: her Highlords and the struggle that would end with the most powerful among them ascending to the throne and dealing the death blow to the forces of Light.

Raistlin blended into the darkness, became the darkness. He watched and waited for his chance.

Takhisis began to orate. Kitiara looked pleased; Ariakas, baleful. Raistlin could not hear what the Queen was saying. She was talking to those who mattered. He watched the proceedings, feeling as though he were watching a play from the last seat in the very last row.

Kitiara left her throne and, motioning to Tanis, descended the stairs and advanced onto the floor of the hall. The soldiers fell back to give her room. Tanis walked behind her like a whipped dog brought to heel.

A platform reared up like a striking snake from the middle of the hall. Kitiara climbed the spiky stairs that were difficult to traverse, apparently, for Tanis, coming after her, kept slipping, much to the amusement of the onlookers. Following the analogy of a play, Tanis was the understudy called on to perform at the last moment. He had not rehearsed, did not know his lines.

Kitiara made a grand gesture, and Lord Soth entered, his awful presence overpowering all the other actors in the piece. The death knight carried in his arms a body wrapped in white cloth. He laid the shrouded figure at Kitiara's feet; then he vanished, a dramatic exit.

Kitiara reached down and unwound the cloth. The light shone on golden hair. Raistlin moved closer to the edge of the bridge for a better view as Laurana struggled to fight her way out of the winding sheet. Tanis instinctively reached out to help her. Kitiara stopped him with a look. When he obeyed her, she rewarded him with that crooked smile.

Raistlin watched with interest. Together at last were the three who had started it all. The three who symbolized the struggle. The Darkness and the Light and the soul that wavered in between.

Laurana stood tall and proud in her silver armor, and she was all that Raistlin remembered of beauty. He looked down on her, and he sighed softly and pressed his lips together grimly. He knew loss in that moment, but he also knew she had never been his to lose.

Tanis looked at Laurana, and Raistlin saw that the wavering soul had finally made the choice. Or perhaps Tanis's soul had made the choice long before, and his heart had just now caught up. Love's light illuminated the two of them, shutting out Kitiara, leaving her alone in the darkness.

Kit understood and the knowledge was bitter. Raistlin saw her crooked smile twist and harden.

"So you are capable of love, my sister," said Raistlin. And he knew then that he would have his chance.

Kitiara ordered Tanis to lay his sword at the foot of the Emperor, swear fealty to Ariakas. Tanis obeyed. What else could he do when the woman he loved was a prisoner of the woman he had once imagined he loved?

It was strange that Laurana, the prisoner, was the only one of the three who was truly free. She loved Tanis with her entire being. Her love had brought her to this place of darkness, and her light shone more brightly still. Her love was her own, and if Tanis did not return it, that no longer mattered. Love strengthened her, ennobled her. Her love for one opened her heart to love for all.

Kitiara, by contrast, was tangled in a web of her own passions, always reaching for the prize that hung out of reach. Love to her meant power over one, and that meant power over all.

Tanis climbed the stairs leading to the throne of Ariakas, and Raistlin saw the half-elf's eyes go to the crown. Tanis's gaze fixed on it. His lips moved, unconsciously repeating the words, Whoever wears the crown rules! His expression hardened; his hand clenched on the hilt of the sword.

Raistlin understood Tanis's plan as clearly as if he and the half-elf had spent years working on it. In a sense, perhaps they had. The two of them had always been close in a way none of their friends had ever understood. Darkness speaking to dark, perhaps.

And what of Takhisis? Did the Queen know that the half-elf, shaved clean of the beard that had once hidden his shame, climbed the stairs toward destiny, prepared to sacrifice his life for the sake of others? Did she know that in the heart of her darkness, down in her dungeons, a kender and a barmaid and a warrior were grimly prepared to do the same? Did Takhisis realize that the wizard wearing the black robes that marked his allegiance to self-serving ambition would be ready to sacrifice his life for the freedom to walk whatever path he chose?