Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [56]
Finally, when night’s shadows fell, bringing a merciful end to the tortured green day, the twins reached the Tower. Here they stopped. Caramon was feverish and in pain.
“I’ve got to rest, Raist,” he gasped. “Put me down.”
“Certainly, my brother,” Raistlin said gently. He helped Caramon lean against the pearl wall of the Tower, then regarded his brother with cool, glittering eyes.
“Farewell, Caramon,” he said.
Caramon looked at his twin in disbelief. Within the shadows of the trees, the warrior could see the undead elves, who had followed them at a respectful distance, creep closer as they realized the mage who had warded them off was leaving.
“Raist,” Caramon said slowly, “you can’t leave me here! I can’t fight them. I don’t have the strength! I need you!”
“Perhaps, but you see, my brother, I no longer need you. I have gained your strength. Now, finally, I am as I was meant to be but for nature’s cruel trick—one whole person.”
As Caramon stared, uncomprehending, Raistlin turned to leave.
“Raist!”
Caramon’s agonized cry halted him. Raistlin stopped and gazed back at his twin, his golden eyes all that were visible from within the depths of his black hood.
“How does it feel to be weak and afraid, my brother?” he asked softly. Turning, Raistlin walked to the Tower entrance where Tika and Tas lay dead. Raistlin stepped over the kender’s body and vanished into the darkness.
Sturm and Tanis and Kitiara, reaching the Tower, saw a body lying on the grass at its base. Phantom shapes of undead elves were starting to surround it, shrieking and yelling, hacking at it with their cold swords.
“Caramon!” Tanis cried, heartsick.
“And where’s his brother?” Sturm asked with a sidelong glance at Kitiara. “Left him to die, no doubt.”
Tanis shook his head as they ran forward to aid the warrior. Wielding their swords, Sturm and Kitiara kept the elves at bay while Tanis knelt beside the mortally wounded warrior.
Caramon lifted his glazed eyes and met Tanis’s, barely recognizing him through the bloody haze that dimmed his vision. He tried desperately to talk.
“Protect Raistlin, Tanis—” Caramon choked on his own blood—“since I won’t be there now. Watch over him.”
“Watch over Raistlin?” Tanis repeated furiously. “He left you here, to die!” Tanis held Caramon in his arms.
Caramon closed his eyes wearily. “No, you’re wrong, Tanis. I sent him away.…” The warrior’s head slumped forward.
Night’s shadows closed over them. The elves had disappeared. Sturm and Kit came to stand beside the dead warrior.
“What did I tell you?” Sturm asked harshly.
“Poor Caramon,” Kitiara whispered, bending down near him. “Somehow I always guessed it would end this way.” She was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. “So my little Raistlin has become truly powerful,” she mused, almost to herself.
“At the cost of your brother’s life!”
Kitiara looked at Tanis as if perplexed at his meaning. Then, shrugging, she glanced down at Caramon, who lay in a pool of his own blood. “Poor kid,” she said softly.
Sturm covered Caramon’s body with his cloak, then they sought the entrance to the Tower.
“Tanis—” Sturm said, pointing.
“Oh, no. Not Tas,” Tanis murmured. “And Tika.”
The kender’s body lay just inside the doorway, his small limbs twisted by convulsions from the poison. Near him lay the barmaid, her red curls matted with blood. Tanis knelt beside them. One of the kender’s packs had opened in his death throes, its contents scattered. Tanis caught sight of a glint of gold. Reaching down, he picked up the ring of elven make, carved in the shape of ivy leaves. His vision blurred, tears filled his eyes as he covered his face with his hands.
“There’s nothing we can do, Tanis.” Sturm put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve got to keep going and put an end to this. If I do nothing else, I’ll live to kill Raistlin.”
Death