Put me on! Put me on!
It is a beautiful ring and it will fit me now, Caramon thought.
Earwig screamed in pain, a sound that echoed in the chamber for many minutes. He writhed in throes of incredible agony, moaning like a child.
“She was in my head—she was in my head—she was in my head!”
Caramon threw the ring aside. Catching his friend up in his huge arms, the warrior held Earwig close to his chest, rocking the sobbing kender gently.
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CHAFCER2?
Meneklan KCMa/NCO siieNt awaiting the forming of the Great Eye. The three moons, Solinari, Lunitari, and dark Nuitari, forging the same arcs they had crossed for thousands of years, would once more meet again. White over red over black — an eye to gaze upon the world, a focus to release the power of wizards dead since the Age of Might.
Who would use it?
Walking, his head bent into a wind only he could feel, Raistlin searched the paths and portents of his life, from his childhood to his indoctrination into the ranks of the adept, to where he stood now on the flawless street. He
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Majene
sought to discover the key to the mystery of the festival that had remained locked since the Cataclysm.
His right hand gripped the Staff of Magius, using it both as support and reference. Its black wood, golden claw, and pale blue orb were the pinnacles of magical knowledge — an artifact containing runes and glyphs to spells he could not yet comprehend. It held the wisdom of the one who had created it, potent rituals and sacrifices lost to the past, available to those who could hear its silent tales. It was to these venerable voices that the mage listened, ignoring all else around him.
Pictures and images floated across his consciousness, sensation more than substance. He let his spirit flow into the lines of the staff. Paths of power took him, scattered parts of his mind to other roads. But the mage did not have the experience to clutch through the veil of time and penetrate to the past. His will was forced from the rune-paths again and again, until he finally admitted defeat.
“The Eye forms tonight, and I still don’t know what is happening! Who will use its power? How can I use its power!”
He gripped the black staff harder than before, feeling strength in his hand, arm, and limbs. The sickness had drained from his body since his first encounter with the growing force of the Great Eye, his frame infused by magics. The idea of having his shattered health restored permanently stirred him to action, bringing hope he once thought impossible to have. Could I truly break free of him?
Yes, whispered Shavas’s rich and sensuous voice in his mind. Ally yourself with me, and together we will fight him. Powerful forces will soon be mine to command. After this night’s work, I will be richly rewarded and you shall share!
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DRAQONUVNCE PReluoes
Raistlin heard an answering echo in his mind, the echo of a dream.
Where is my reward?
Forthcoming.
With that word Raistlin understood where to find the knowledge he sought. But only at great cost. Snap the golden thread, and magic \vould be lost to him forever. But he would have Shavas. He would have wealth, power. Would it matter so much that he didn’t have the magic? Raistlin pressed his hand against his head. The blood throbbed in his brain.
The Staff of Magius rapped in frustration against the ground, the metal tip ringing, its vibrations bringing the mage back to the present. The moons were rising higher, the two he could see casting imperfect shadows onto the streets as mystic lights began to collect in their eternal parade—stars of illumination that leaped to their positions above the sidewalk and atop the highest buildings. Raistlin stopped and watched their creation, staring as a pool of white collected at his feet then shot away, speeding to a nearby park. It was as if Mereklar itself were coming alive.
The scream of a wounded animal cut through the quiet, causing Raistlin to start from his meditative observations. The noise had come from a few blocks away, forward and to the left, from an area where he was already headed.
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