Margaret Weis - THE SOULFORGE

"That was part of my reasoning. The Test will teach him a few things about himself. Things he might not like to know, but which are necessary to his understanding of himself and the power he wields."

"The Test is a humbling experience," Antimodes said with something between a sigh and shudder.

Their faces lengthened, they cast surreptitious glances at each other to see if their thoughts were once more traveling in similar directions. It seemed that the thoughts were concurrent, as evidenced by the fact that they had no need to name the personage about whom they now spoke.

"He will undoubtedly be there," said Antimodes in a low voice. He glanced around guardedly, as if he feared they might be overheard in the chamber, a chamber that stood alone in the topmost part of the tower, a chamber to which no one but the two of them had access.

"Yes, I fear so," said Par-Salian, looking grave. "He will take particular interest in this young man." "We should finish him, once and for all."

"We've tried," Par-Salian said. "And you know the results as well as I do. We cannot touch him on his plane of existence. Not only that, but I suspect that Nuitari guards him."

"He should. He never had a more loyal servant. Talk of murders!" Leaning forward, Antimodes spoke in a conspiratorial undertone. "We could limit the young man's access to him."

"And what of freedom of will? That has always been the hallmark of our orders. A freedom many have sacrificed their lives to protect! Do we throw the right to choose our own destinies to the Abyss?"

Antimodes was chastened. "Forgive me, friend. I spoke in haste. I am fond of the young man, though. Fond and proud of him. He has done me great credit. I would hate to see harm befall him."

"Indeed he has done you credit. And he will continue to do so, I hope. His own choices will lead him on the path he is to walk, as our choices led us. I trust they may be wise ones."

"The Test will be hard on him. He is a frail youth."

"The blade must pass through the fire, else it will break."

"And if he dies? What of your plans then?"

"Then I will look for someone else. Ladonna spoke to me of a promising young elf magus. His name is Dalamar."

Their conversation turned to other matters, to Ladonna's pupil, dire events in the world, and eventually to the area that interested them most-magic.

Above the Tower, silver Solinari and red Lunitari shone brightly. Nuitari was there as well, a dark hole in the constellations. The three moons were full this night, as was necessary for the Test.

In the lands beyond the tower, far, far away from the room where the two archmagi sipped their elven wine and spoke of the fate of the world, the young mages who were traveling to the Tower to take the Test slept restlessly, if they slept at all. In the morning, the Forest of Wayreth would find them, lead them to their fate.

Tomorrow some might sleep, never to wake again.

The twins' journey to the tower took them over a month. They had expected it would take longer, for they had thought they would be traveling on foot. Shortly after their friends had left Solace, a messenger arrived to say that two horses had been delivered to the public stables in the name of Majere. The horses were gifts from Raistlin's sponsor, Antimodes.

The young men traveled southwest through Haven. Raistlin stopped to pay his respects to Lemuel, who reported that the temple of Belzor had been razed, its stone blocks used to build homes for the poor. This had been accomplished under the auspices of a new and apparently harmless religious order known as the Seekers. Lemuel had reopened his mageware shop. He showed Raistlin the black bryony, which was flourishing. He asked where they were bound. Raistlin replied that they were traveling for fun, taking a roundabout route to Pax Tharkas.

Lemuel looked very grave at this, wished them luck and a safe road many times, and sighed deeply when they left.

The two continued their journey, riding south along the western slopes of the Kharolis Mountains, skirting the borders of Qualinesti.

Although they kept close watch, they saw no elves. Yet the two were always aware of the elves watching them. Caramon suggested visiting Tanis, seeing the elven kingdom. Raistlin reminded him that their journey was secret, they were supposed to be in Pax Tharkas. Besides, he doubted if they would be able to convince the elves to admit them. The Qualinesti took more kindly to humans than did their cousins, the Silvanesti, but with evil rumors flying on dark wings from the north, the Qualinesti were wary of strangers.

On the last morning of their journey along the border, the two woke to find an elven arrow embedded at the foot of each of their bedrolls. The Qualinesti's message was clear: We have allowed you to pass, but don't come back.

The brothers breathed a little easier once they were out of elven lands, but they could not relax their vigilance, for now began their search for the wayward Forest of Wayreth. The lands in this part of Abanasinia were wild and desolate. Once the two were set upon by thieves, another time a band of goblins passed by so near that the twins could have reached out and smacked one on its scaly hide.

The bandits had thought to jump defenseless young travelers. Caramon's sword and Raistlin's fiery spells soon apprised them of their mistake. The bandits left one of their number dead on the road, the rest dashed off to bind their wounds. The goblins proved too numerous to fight, however. The brothers took refuge in a cave until the troop had marched past, heading northward at a rapid pace.

The twins spent four days searching for the forest. Caramon, frustrated and nervous, said more than once that they ought to turn back. He consulted three maps-one given him by Tasslehoff, one provided by an innkeeper in Haven, and another taken from the body of the thief. Not one of the maps showed the forest in the same location.

Raistlin soothed his brother's concerns with as much calm as he could muster, though he himself was starting to worry. Tomorrow was the seventh day, and they had seen no sign of the forest.

That night they spread their bedrolls in a clearing of scraggly pines. They awakened to find themselves lying beneath the huge, spreading bows of enormous oak trees.

Caramon almost fled then and there. The oak trees were not ordinary oak trees. He saw eyes in the knotholes, he heard spoken words in the rustling of the leaves. He heard words in the songs of the birds as well. Though he couldn't understand them clearly, the birds seemed to him to be warning him to leave.

The twins gathered their belongings, mounted their horses. The oak trees stood shoulder to shoulder, stalwart guards blocking their path. Raistlin regarded the trees in silence a moment, summoning his courage. He urged his horse forward. The oaks parted, forming a clear path that led straight to the tower.

Caramon tried to ride after his brother. The trees glared at him with hatred, the leaves rustled in anger. His courage failed him. Fear took hold of him, wrung him, left him weak and helpless, powerless to move.

"Raist!" he cried hoarsely.

Raistlin turned. Seeing his brother's predicament, he rode back. He reached out, took hold of his brother's hand.

"Do not be afraid, Caramon. I am with you." The two entered the forest together.

*****

On the seventh day of the seventh month, seven magi were ushered into a large courtyard at the base of the Tower of High Sorcery.

Four men and three women: Four were human, two elven, and one appeared to be half-human, half- dwarf, a rather unusual combination for a magic-user. The youngest by almost five years was Raistlin Majere, the only one to arrive with an escort. The others glanced askance at the young mage, observed his delicate features, his pallor, and the excessive thinness that made him appear younger than he was.