Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [83]
Cool, gentle hands touched his face. He could hear voices, but their words were meaningless. He could understand, if he chose. But he didn’t want to understand. His eyes were closed. He could open them, but he refused. Opening his eyes, hearing those words, would only make the pain real.
“I must rest,” Caramon heard himself say, and he sank back into darkness.
He was approaching another Tower, a different Tower. The Tower of the Stars in Silvanesti. Once more Raistlin was with him, only now his brother wore the Black Robes. And now it was Raistlin’s turn to help Caramon. The big warrior was wounded. Blood pulsed steadily from a spear-wound that had nearly taken off his arm.
“I must rest,” Caramon said again.
Gently Raistlin laid him down, making him comfortable, his back propped up against the cold stone of the Tower. And then Raistlin started to leave.
“Raist! Don’t,” Caramon cried. “You can’t leave me here!”
Looking around, the injured, defenseless warrior saw hordes of the undead elves who had attacked them in Silvanesti waiting to leap upon him. Only one thing held them back, his brother’s magical power.
“Raist! Don’t leave me!” he screamed.
“How does it feel to be weak and alone?” Raistlin asked him softly.
“Raist! My brother …”
“I killed him once, Tanis. I can do it again!”
“Raist! No! Raist!”
“Caramon, please …” Another voice. This one gentle. Soft hands touched him.
“Caramon, please! Wake up! Come back, Caramon. Come back to me. I need you.”
No! Caramon pushed away that voice. He pushed away the soft hands. No, I don’t want to come back. I won’t. I’m tired. I hurt. I want to rest.
But the hands, the voice, wouldn’t let him rest. They grabbed him, pulling him from the depths where he longed to sink.
And now he was falling, falling into a horrible red darkness. Skeletal fingers clutched at him, eyeless heads whirled past him, their mouths gaping in silent cries. He drew a breath, then sank into blood. Struggling, smothering, he finally fought his way back to the surface and gasped for air once more. Raistlin! But no, he’s gone. His friends. Tanis. Gone, too. He saw him swept away. The ship. Gone. Cracked in half. Sailors cut apart, their blood mingling with the blood-red sea.
Tika! She was near him. He pulled her close. She was gasping for air. But he could not hold onto her. The swirling water tore her from his arms and swept him under. This time he could not find the surface. His lungs were on fire, bursting. Death … rest … sweet, warm.…
But always those hands! Dragging him back to the gruesome surface. Making him breathe the burning air. No, let me go!
And then other hands, rising up from the blood-red water. Firm hands, they took him down from the surface. He fell down … down … into merciful darkness. Whispered words of magic soothed him, he breathed … breathed water … and his eyes closed … the water was warm and comforting … He was a child once more.
But not complete. His twin was missing.
No! Waking was agony Let him float in that dark dream forever. Better than the sharp, bitter pain.
But the hands tugged at him. The voice called to him.
“Caramon, I need you …”
Tika.
“I’m no cleric, but I believe he’ll be all right now. Let him sleep awhile.”
Tika brushed away her tears quickly, trying to appear strong and in control.
“What … what was wrong?” she made herself ask calmly, though she was unable to restrain a shudder. “Was he hurt when the ship … went into th-the whirlpool? He’s been like this for days! Ever since you found us.”
“No, I don’t think so. If he had been injured, the sea elves would have healed him. This was something within himself. Who is this ‘Raist’ he talks about?”
“His twin brother,” Tika said hesitantly.
“What happened? Did he die?”
“No—no. I—I’m not quite sure what happened. Caramon loved his brother very much and he … Raistlin betrayed him.”
“I see.” The man nodded solemnly. “It happens, up there. And you wonder why I choose to live down here.”
“You saved his life!” Tika said. “And I don’t know you … your name.”
“Zebulah,” the man answered, smiling.