Dragonlance Tales, Vol. 3 – Love and War

more by instinct than because she feared she would wake

him from his enchanted sleep – Amberyl slid out from his

unconscious embrace. Gathering her things, she wrapped

the scarf once more about her head. Then, kneeling down

beside the sleeping mage, she looked upon Raistlin’s face

one last time.

“I could stay,” she told him softly. “I could stay with

you a little while. But then my solitary nature would get the

better of me and I would leave you and you would be hurt.”

A sudden thought made her shudder. Closing her eyes, she

shook her head. “Or you might find out the truth about our

race. If you ever discovered it, then you would loathe me,

despise me! Worse still” – her eyes filled with tears – “you

would despise our child.”

Gently, Amberyl stroked back the mage’s prematurely

white hair, her hand caressed the golden skin. “There is

something about you that frightens me,” she said, her voice

trembling. “I don’t understand. Perhaps the wise will know.

…” A tear crept down her face. “Farewell, mage. What I do

now will keep pain from us both” – bending down, she

kissed the sleeping face – “and from one who should come

into this world free of all its burdens.”

Amberyl placed her hand upon the mage’s temples and,

closing her eyes, began reciting words in the ancient

language. Then, tracing the name CARAMON upon the dirt

floor, she spoke the same words over it as well. Rising

hurriedly to her feet, she started to leave the cave. At the

entrance she paused. The cave was damp and chill, she

heard the mage cough. Pointing at the fire, she spoke again.

A blazing flame leaped up from the cold stone, filling the

cave with warmth and light. With a final backward glance, a

last, small sigh, Amberyl stepped out of the cave and

walked away beneath the watchful, puzzled trees of the

magical Forest of Wayreth.

Dawn glistened brightly on the new-fallen snow when

Caramon finally made his way back to the cave.

“Raist!” he called out in a frightened voice as he drew

nearer. “Raist! I’m sorry! This cursed forest!” He swore,

glancing nervously at the trees as he did so. “This . . .

blasted place. I spent half the night chasing after some

wretched firelight that vanished when the sun came up. Are

– are you all right?” Frightened, wet, and exhausted,

Caramon stumbled through the snow, listening for his

brother’s answer, cough . . . anything.

Hearing nothing from within the cave but ominous

silence, Caramon hurried forward, tearing the blanket from

the entrance in his desperate haste to get inside.

Once there, he stopped, staring about him in

astonishment.

A comfortable, cheery fire burned brightly. The cave

was as warm – warmer – than a room in the finest inn. His

twin lay fast asleep, his face peaceful, as though lost in

some sweet dream. The air was filled with a springlike

fragrance, as of lilacs and lavendar.

“I’ll be a gully dwarf,” Caramon breathed in awe,

suddenly noticing that the fire was burning solid rock.

Shivering, the big man glanced around. “Mages!” he

muttered, keeping a safe distance from the strange blaze.

“The sooner we’re out of this weird forest the better, to my

mind. Not that I’m not grateful,” he added hastily. “Looks

like you wizards saved Raist’s life. I just wonder why it was

necessary to send me on that wild-swimmingbird chase.”

Kneeling down, he shook his brother by the shoulder.

“Raist,” Caramon whispered gently. “Raist. Wake up!”

Raistlin’s eyes opened wide. Starting up, he looked

around. “Where is – ” he began.

“Where is who? What?” Caramon cried in alarm.

Backing up, his hand on the hilt of his sword, he looked

frantically around the small cave. “I knew – ”

“is . . . is – ” Raistlin stopped, frowning.

“No one, I guess,” the mage said softly, his hand going

to his head. He felt dizzy. “Relax, my brother,” he snapped

irritably, glancing up at Caramon. “There is no one here but

us.”

“But . . . this fire . . .” Caramon said, eyeing the blaze

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