Brother's Majere

Chapter 4

Raistlin knew he was dreaming, and the dream terrified him-he’d dreamed it many times before-but he couldn’t force himself to wake. Something inside him, stronger than his own will, demanded that he give in.

The young mage left his bed, went to the door, stepped through the door, opened the door, closed the door, and walked into the gray mist that shrouded the hallway of the inn. Looking back, he could not see Caramon but he could see Caramon breathing peacefully in his sleep.

The mage took to the stairs that led down to the main hall. In his hand was the Staff of Magius, though he didn’t remember taking it with him.

He needed light. The way was terrifyingly dark except for the white line that flowed beneath him with power and for the golden thread that connected him with another. “Shirak,” he whispered.

The line guided him, directing his steps. He wandered the hallways and pathways of the inn and the surrounding areas, which were covered by gray mists that moved and roiled with unseen life. Ahead lay the one he sought, the one who had the answers to so many of his questions, the lifebringer and the destroyer.

Fantastic winged beasts-red, black, green, and blue-flew across his path, disturbed from their dreams by his wanderings, the staff’s light waking them. The beasts gazed at him with hate-filled, hungry eyes. They wanted to destroy him, but could not. Not now, not this day.

Raistlin entered a room. Its four walls were solid, but the ceiling and floor lacked substance. A small table stood in front of him. He took one of the two drinks upon it and gulped it down. The liquid brought cold, soothing relief-a taste of fruit and spirit. He waited for the other to arrive.

A shadowy figure clad in long, black robes, dimly seen, dimly recognized, appeared.

“You are he?” Raistlin asked. His voice sounded strange. He didn’t recognize it as his own. He saw the golden thread run glistening from himself to the other.

“Of course. You don’t remember?” asked the other, as he always did.

“And the price?” Raistlin inquired, as he always did.

“You have already paid a part. The rest will be paid later,” answered the other, as he always answered.

Only this time, there was a difference. The conversation did not end. The room did not vanish. Raistlin was able to ask the one question previously forbidden to him.

“And my reward?”

“Follow the line, as others are.”

“Others?”

“You are watched even now.”

“Who can see me here?”

“A man, though not a man.”

“Does he wish me good or evil?”

“It depends on what you wish him.”

Raistlin left the four walls with the ceiling and floor that didn’t matter, the winged beasts flying from his path. The line led him back to the inn and the safety of his bed. The golden thread flowed backward, shimmering, trailing off into darkness.