Dreams

I'm not so sure if this is through or not. It takes place in between Dragons of Spring Dawning and Time of the Twins. There are several quotes taken straight from the Soulforge, and Test of the Twins, and I can't claim those as my own genius :) I am pretty sure this fits with the books (correction: could fit with the books) and I'd really appreciate your comments.

Chapter 1: Mortality

The tower stood, black against black, casting a dark silhouette in the silver peppered sky. The bright, colorful lights of Palanthas were swallowed into the eternal darkness that it nested within. A cold chill radiated off of it, stopping both the blood and heartbeat of those who dared to even look at the cursed building, the stronghold of evil. Raistlin Majere stood in the very top window of his laboratory, gazing at the moons. In his right hand, he held a staff that was topped with a dragon's claw clutching a multi-faceted crystal, the Staff of Magius. The bright light of Solinari shone on his skin, casting the gold to glow, and illuminating the silver in his white hair. He blinked uncomfortably in the luminosity, feeling as if Solinari himself was looking down at him. Sighing softly to himself, the archmage withdrew from the window, shunning the light and what it represented. His soft black robes whispered around his ankles as he descended the flight of stairs from the laboratory to his bedchambers, leaning heavily on the Staff of Magius. Once inside, he was just getting into bed when he began to cough violently. Grabbing a bloodstained cloth from one of the secret pockets of his robe, he attempted to wipe his mouth, but the spasms continued. The cloth and staff clambered to the ground and he sank to his knees in agony. Gradually, the coughing subsided, but, anguished, Raistlin remained on the floor.

"Thus the gods remind me of my mortality," Tinged with sarcasm, his voice echoed off the empty walls to reverberate in his ears again and again…Smiling bitterly, he lifted his head toward the heavens defiantly and he cried through blood-flecked lips, "Just wait, my Queen! My plans are almost complete!" Picking up the staff, he slowly got to his feet and added, almost inaudibly, "Laugh now, but wait and see who is laughing when this mortal defeats you…" He leaned the staff against the wall and fell into his bed wearily, his silken black blankets enveloping his tired, broken body in warmth. Outside, the faint mocking caw of a crow cut through the still night…

The boy sat aloof from the rest, a book in hand and wearing the white robes of one who studies magic. The sun dappled a weave of light and the shadows that the leaves of the vallenwoods above cast upon the child's mob of auburn hair. Almost oblivious to the roughhousing going on nearby, the child studied diligently, occasionally muttering syllables to himself or writing notes in a small journal he kept. He didn't notice the two older boys as they came towards him, sniggering.

"Hey, Sly," one said conversationally, grinning maliciously. He was big for his age, with fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles across his face. He peered down at the scholar seated on the log. "Whacha reading?"

Penetrating pale blue eyes looked up from the book. They seemed to peel away the layers of clothing and skin to find what was inside. He looked the boy straight in the eye and spoke in a cool voice. "If you must know, I am learning about a wizard named Magius-"

"FASCINATING!!" The other boy exclaimed in feigned interest. He plopped himself right next to Raistlin and craned his neck to look at the book. "So is this a spellbook?" He asked, his emerald eyes falsely inquisitive.

Raistlin sighed, scooting slightly back from the boy. "No, it's just a history-"

"It's a spellbook, Michael!" The second boy yelled over to his buddy. "I'm gonna turn you into a frog!" With these words, he grabbed the history book out of the littler boy's small hands. "Om kichoo zeta!!" He completed his imaginary spell with a fanciful flourish of his hand.

"Hey! Give that back to me!" Raistlin tugged on his sleeve, attempting to reclaim his homework. The older boy shoved him hard, pushing him off the log to land in wet mud. Michael hooted with glee and at his friend's words, began to hop around, singing 'ribbit' at the top of his lungs.

"My turn, Josh! My turn!" Michael whined, sick of hopping. Josh threw the book high over Raistlin's head to his fellow bully. "I'm gonna turn you into a gully dwarf!" Growling in mock anger at being turned into something so stupid, Josh tackled Michael. The book went flying, and became soggy with mud and fallen leaves.

The youngest ran towards the book hopefully, brushing the mud off of himself. The two bullies looked up. Michael grabbed Raistlin by his frail wrists. "What do you think you are doing?" he snarled angrily, tightening his grip, digging his fingernails in harder. "We weren't finished!"

"Yeah!" Josh agreed. He poked Raistlin hard in the chest. Raistlin glared at them, insolent and infuriated. But not stupid. He whispered to himself, You are insects. Bugs! You are nothing to me…in order not to retaliate. In order not to get hurt. Most unfortunately, Josh saw him. "Hey! What was that you said?" Raistlin just glowered at him. Josh, irate at the gall this eight-year-old was giving him, drew back his fist and punched him across the face.

Raistlin tasted blood from his split lip, could feel his cheek swelling from the blow. "I SAID, what was that?" Josh leered at Raistlin's determined face and swung his hand around again to backslap him. Michael, not going to be left out of a fun game, smacked the younger on the head.

"What are you gonna do, eh, wizard?" the bullies chanted, taking turns battering up the boy. Bright red blood splattered unto the white robes, yet from underneath a mask of purple and green bruises and blood, those penetrating pale blue eyes just glared with hatred at the tormentors. Most unfortunately, the next blows were aimed at the eyes and they turned into swollen black ones.

Finally, Raistlin broke down, sobbing in agony. "Caramon!" he cried weakly. Josh, in between punches, started to laugh. At his mocking laughter, other children ran over, bloodlust in their veins. They also began abusing Raistlin, each one hooting with glee at a new bruise.

"Caramon?!" he sneered. "Caramon's dead! You killed him!" He pummeled Raistlin harder. Raistlin tried to curl into a ball, but the blows kept raining down on him. "Caramon's dead! You killed him!" These words became a chant, echoing off the vallenwoods to strike Raistlin harder than any fist, to cut him deeper than any nail. He squinted up an eye and gasped in horror. The children's faces began to change, their skin melting off their faces until only a cavernous skull was left, leering. The mottled blue and white skin was stretched thinly over the bones, the homespun clothes darkening to black. Their eyes became a beady blood red, their fingernails long and wicked. From far above, Raistlin could hear sultry laughter.

"And this is what will happen if you fail, pathetic wizard," the voice whispered. "You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see…"

Raistlin, the archmage, tossed and turned fretfully in his sleep. "Caramon…" he moaned unconsciously. "Caramon, help me…"

"You will be tortured in mind and body. At the end of each day, you will die from pain. At the beginning of each night, I will bring you back to life. You will not be able to sleep, but will lie awake in shivering anticipation of the day to come. In the morning, my face will be the first sight you see…"