The Magic Of Krynn (34 page)

“You are right! We must close it!” Palin said suddenly, thinking he knew his uncle's mind.
“The Queen will come back into the world-”

Raising the staff, the young man stepped forward. A slender, golden-skinned hand closed
over his arm. Its grip hurt, the touch burned him. Catching his breath, biting his lip
from the pain, Palin looked at his uncle in confusion.

“All in good time, my dear nephew,” whispered Raistlin. “All in good time. . . .”

Raistlin drew the young man nearer, smiling slightly as Palin flinched, noting the look of
pain in the green eyes. Still Raistlin held him, regarding him searchingly, studying the
features, probing the depths of his soul.

“There is much of myself in you, young one,” Raistlin said, reaching up to brush back a
lock of hair that had fallen across Palin's pale face. “More of me than of your father.
And he loves you best for that, doesn't he? Oh, he is proud of your brothers”-Raistlin
shrugged, as the young man started to protest-“but you he cherishes, protects. . . .”

Flushing, Palin broke free of Raistlin's grip. But he might have spared his energy. The
archmage held him fast-with his eyes, not his hands.

“He'll smother you!” Raistlin hissed. “Smother you as he did me! He will prevent you
taking the Test. You know that, don't you.”

“He-he doesn't understand,” Palin faltered. “He's only trying to do what he thinks-”

“Don't lie to me, Palin,” Raistlin said softly, placing his slender fingers on the young
man's lips. “Don't lie to yourself. Speak the truth that is in your soul. I see it in you
so clearly! The hatred, the jealousy! Use it, Palin! Use it to make you strong-as I did!”

The golden-skinned hand traced over the bones of Palin's face-the firm, strong chin, the
clenched jaw, the smooth, high cheekbones. Palin trembled at the touch, but more still at
the expression in the burning, hourglass eyes. “You should have been mine! My son!”
Raistlin murmured. “I would have raised you to power! What wonders I would have shown you,
Palin. Upon the wings of magic we would have flown the world-cheered the winner of the
fights for succession among the minotaur, gone swimming with the sea elves, battled
giants, watched the birth of a golden dragon. . . . All this could have been yours, SHOULD
have been yours, Palin, if only they-”

A fit of coughing checked the archmage. Gasping, Raistlin staggered, clutching his chest.
Catching hold of him in his strong arms, Palin led his uncle to a dusty, cushioned chair
that sat near the Portal. Beneath the dust, he could discern dark splotches on the
fabric-as though it had, long ago, been stained with blood. In his concern for his uncle,
Palin thought little of it. Raistlin sank down into the chair, choking, coughing into a
soft, white cloth that Palin drew from his own robes and handed to him. Then, leaning the
staff carefully against the wall, the young man knelt down beside his uncle.

“Is there something I can do? Something I can get for you? That herbal mixture you drank.”
His glance went to the jars of herbs on a shelf. “If you tell me how to fix it-”

Raistlin shook his head. “In time . . .” he whispered as the spasm eased. “In time,
Palin.” He smiled wearily, his hand reaching out to rest on the young man's head. “In
time. I will teach you that . . . and so much more! How they have wasted your talent! What
did they tell you, young one? Why did they bring you here?”

Palin bowed his head. The touch of those slender fingers excited him, yet he caught
himself cringing, squirming beneath their burning caress. “I came- They said . . . you
would try ... to take . . .” He swallowed, unable to

continued. "Ah, yes. Of course. That is what those idiots would think. I

would take your body as Fistandantilus tried to take mine. What fools! As if I would
deprive the world of this young mind, of this power. The two of us ... There will be two
of us, now. I make you my apprentice, Palin." The burning fingers stroked the auburn hair.

Palin raised his face. “But,” he said in amazement, “I am of low rank. I haven't taken the
Test-”

“You will, young one,” Raistlin murmured, exhaustion plain upon his face. “You will. And
with my help, you will pass easily. Just as I passed with the help of another . . . Hush.
Don't speak anymore. I must rest.” Shivering, Raistlin clutched his tattered robes about
his frail body. “Bring me some wine and a change of clothes or I will freeze to death. I
had forgotten how damp this place was.” Leaning his head back against the cushions,
Raistlin closed his eyes, his breath rattling in his lungs.

Palin stood up slowly, casting an uneasy glance behind him.

The five heads of the dragon around the Portal still glowed, but their colors were faded,
less brilliant. Their mouths gaped open, but no sound came out. It seemed to Palin,
though, that they were waiting, biding their time. Their ten eyes watched him, glittering
with some secret, inner knowledge. He looked inside the Portal. The red-tinged landscape
stretched into the distance. Far away, barely discernible, he could see the wall, the pool
of blood beneath it. And above it, the dark, winged shadow. . . .

“Uncle,” Palin said, “the Portal. Shouldn't we-”

“Palin,” said Raistlin softly, “I gave you a command. You will learn to obey my commands,
apprentice. Do as I bid.”

As Palin watched, the shadow grew darker. Like a cloud covering the sun, the wings cast a
chill of fear over his soul. He started to speak again, but at that moment glanced back at
Raistlin.

His uncle's eyes appeared to be closed, but Palin caught a slit of gold gleaming beneath
the lids, like the eyes of a snake. Biting his lower lip, the young man turned hastily
away. Taking hold of the staff, he used its light to search the laboratory for that which
his uncle had requested.

Dressed once more in soft black velvet robes, Raistlin stood before the Portal, sipping a
glass of elven wine that Palin had discovered in a carafe far back in a corner of the
laboratory. The shadow over the land within had now grown so dark that it seemed night had
fallen over the Abyss. But no stars shown, no moons lit that dread darkness. The wall was
the only object visible, and it

glowed with its own, horrid light. Raistlin stared at it, his face grim, his eyes haunted
by pain.

“Thus she reminds me of what will happen should she catch me, Palin,” he said softly.
“But, no. I am not going back.” Looking around, the archmage glanced at the young man.
Raistlin's eyes glittered within the depths of his black hood. “I had twenty-five years to
consider my mistakes. Twenty-five years of unbearable agony, of endless torment. . . . My
only joy, the only thing that gave me strength to meet each mom-ing's torture was the
shadow of you I saw in my mind. Yes, Palin”-smiling, Raistlin reached out and drew the
young man nearer-"I have watched you all these years. I have done what I could for you.
There is a strength-an inner strength-in you that comes from me! A

burning desire, a love for the magic! I knew, one day, you would seek me out to leam how
to use it. I knew THEY would try to stop you. But they could not. Everything they did to
prevent your coming must only bring you closer. Once in here, I knew you would hear my
voice. You would free me. And so I made my plans . . ."

“I am honored that you take this interest in me,” Pa-lin began. His voice broke, and he
cleared his throat nervously. “But you must know the truth. I-I didn't seek you out to ...
to gain power. I heard your voice, pleading for help, and I-I came because . . .”

“You came out of pity and compassion,” Raistlin said with a twisted smile. “There is still
much of your father in you. That is a weakness that can be overcome. As I told you, Palin.
Speak the truth-to yourself. What did you feel upon entering this place? What did you feel
when you first touched the staff?”

Palin tried to look away from his uncle's gaze. Though the laboratory was chill, he was
sweating beneath his robes. Raistlin held him tightly, however, forcing the young man to
look into the golden, glittering eyes.

And there see a reflection of himself. . . . Was what he said true? Palin stared at the
image in the arch-mage's eyes. He saw a young man, dressed in robes whose color was
indeterminate, now white, now red, now darkening. . . .

The arm Raistlin held jerked spasmodically within the archmage's grasp.

He can feel my fear, Palin realized, trying to control the tremors that shook his body.

Is it fear? the golden eyes asked. Is it fear? Or exultation?

Palin saw the staff he held in his hand reflected in those eyes. He stood within the pool
of its bright light. The longer he held the

staff, the more he could sense the magic within it-and within himself. The golden eyes
shifted in their gaze slightly, and Palin followed them. He saw the black-bound spellbooks
standing upon the shelf. He felt once again the thrill he had experienced upon entering
the laboratory, and he licked his dry, parched lips like a man who has been wandering long
in a vast desert and who has, at last, found the cool water to ease his burning thirst.
Looking back at Raistlin, he saw himself as in a mirror, standing before the archmage
dressed in black robes.

“What-what are your plans?” Palin asked hoarsely.

“Very simple. As I said, I had long years to consider my mistake. My ambition was too
great. I dared become a god- something mortals are not meant to do-as I was painfully
reminded every morning when the Dark Queen's talon ripped my flesh.”

Palin saw the thin lip curl for a moment and the golden eyes glint. The slender hand
clenched in anger and remembered agony, its grip tightening painfully around the young
man's arm. “I learned my lesson,” Raistlin said bitterly, drawing a rasping, shuddering
breath. “I have trimmed my ambition. No longer will I strive to be a god. I will be
content with the world.” Smiling sardonically, he patted Palin's hand. “We will be content
with the world, I should say.”

“I-” The words caught in Palin's throat. He was dazed with confusion and fear and a wild
rush of excitement. Glancing back at the Portal, however, he felt the shadow cover his
heart. “But, the Queen? Shouldn't we shut it?”

Raistlin shook his head. “No, apprentice.” “No?” Palin looked at him in alarm. "No. This
will be my gift to her, to prove my loyalty-admittance

to the world. And the world will be her gift to me. Here she will rule and I ... I will
serve." Raistlin bit the words with his sharp teeth, his lips parted in a tight, mirthless
grin. Sensing the hatred and the anger surging through the frail body, Pa-lin

shuddered. Raistlin glanced at him. “Squeamish, nephew?” He

sneered, letting loose of Palin's arm. “The squeamish do not rise to power-”

“You told me to speak the truth,” Palin said, shrinking away from Raistlin, relieved that
the burning touch was gone, yet longing-somehow-to gain it back. “And I will. I'm
frightened! For us both! I know I am weak-” He bowed his head.

“No, nephew,” said Raistlin softly. “Not weak. Just young. And you will always be afraid.
I will teach you to master your fear, to use its strength. To make it serve you, not the
other way around.”

Looking up, Palin saw a gentleness in the arch-mage's face, a gentleness few in the world
had ever seen. The image of the young man in the black robes faded from the glittering
golden eyes, replaced by a yearning, a hunger for love. Now it was Palin who reached out
and clasped hold of Raistlin's hand. “Close the Portal, uncle!” the young man pleaded.
“Come home and live with us! The room my father built for you is still there, in the Inn.
My mother has kept the plaque with the wizard's mark on it! It is hidden in a chest of
rosewood, but I've seen it. I've held it and dreamed of this so often! Come home! Teach me
what you know! I would honor you, revere you! We could travel, as you said. Show me the
wonders your eyes have seen. . . .”

“Home.” The word lingered on Raistlin's lips as though he were tasting it. “Home. How
often I dreamed of it”-his golden-eyed gaze went to the wall, shining with its ghastly
light-“especially with the coming of dawn. . . .”

Then, glancing at Palin from within the shadows of his hood, Raistlin smiled. “Yes,
nephew,” he said softly. “I believe I will come home with you. I need time to rest, to
recover my strength, to rid myself of ... old dreams.” Palin saw the eyes darken with
remembered pain.

Coughing, Raistlin motioned the young man to help him. Carefully, Palin leaned the staff
against the wall and assisted Raistlin to the chair. Sinking into it weakly, Raistlin
gestured for the young man to pour him another glass of wine. The archmage leaned his head
back wearily into the cushions. “I need time . . .” he continued, moistening his lips with
the wine. “Time to train you, my apprentice. Time to train you .. . and to train your
brothers.”

“My brothers?” Palin repeated in astonishment.

“Why, yes, young one.” Amusement tinged Raistlin's voice as he looked at the young man
standing by his chair. “I need generals for my legions. Your brothers will be ideal-”

“Legions!” Palin cried. “No, that's not what I meant! You must come home to live with us
in peace. You've earned it! You sacrificed yourself for the world-”

“H” Raistlin interrupted. "I sacrificed myself for the

world?“ The archmage began to laugh-dreadful, fearful laughter that set the shadows of the
laboratory dancing in delight like demons. ”Is that what they say of me?" Raistlin laughed
until he choked. A coughing fit seized him, this one worse than the others.

Palin watched helplessly as his uncle writhed in pain. The young man could still hear that
mocking laughter dinning in his ears. When the spasm passed, and he could breathe,
Raistlin lifted his head and, with a weak motion of his hand, beckoned Palin near.

Palin saw blood upon the cloth in his uncle's hand, blood flecked Raistlin's ashen lips.
Loathing and horror came over the young man, but he drew nearer anyway, compelled by a
terrible fascination to kneel down beside his uncle.

“Know this, Palin!” Raistlin whispered, speaking with great effort, his words barely
audible. “I sacrificed . . . MYSELF. . . for . . . MYSELF! Sinking back into his chair, he
gasped for breath. When he could move, he reached out a shaking, blood-stained hand and
caught hold of Palin's white robes. ”I saw . . . what I must. . . become ... if I
succeeded. NOTHING! That. . . was ... all. Dwindle ... to ... nothing. The world . . .
dead. . . . This way“-His hand gestured feebly at the wall, the gruesome pool beneath it.
His eyes gleamed feverishly-”there was . . . still... a chance . . . for me ... to return
..."