Kindred Spirits by Mark Anthony & Ellen Porath

Author:Mark Anthony & Ellen Porath [Anthony, Mark & Porath, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Dragonlance
ISBN: 9781560760696
Google: PLOXHQAACAAJ
Amazon: 0812515234
Goodreads: 668830
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1991-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Miral knew the upheaval of the day would give him nightmares. He struggled to stave off the demons of his dreams. Sitting at the desk in his dim room, surrounded by spellcasting materials, he forced his weak eyes to gaze into the flame of a candle until the tears streamed.

Yet in the end, his efforts proved futile. He finally had to wrench his pained gaze from the candle fire and close his eyes, and in the moment it took his lids to touch, sleep claimed him. His head fell forward on his crossed arms.

He was in the cavern again. As always in his dreams, he was a child again. Light, with the power of ten thousand torches, drilled into his young eyes and he cried until he was hoarse. The light pulsed, pounding into him until he shook in its grip. He feared the light.

Yet he feared the dark as well. For at the fringes of the light waited the evil creatures of every child’s dreams—dragons and ogres and trolls, all hungry and mean and willing to wait forever to get at him. The child Miral gazed from light to dark and tried to choose, but he was little and afraid.

Then warmth suffused him like a pleasant bath. He heard a simple childhood tune, played on a lute. The scent of his mama’s perfume—crushed rose petals—filled his nostrils, and he knew she’d be there soon to save him from the light, give him dinner, and put him to bed with a story. That’s what mamas were for, after all. He waited eagerly.

But she didn’t come, and he grew impatient, then afraid that this meant she never would come.

He heard the sound of footsteps. And he knew instinctively that, not only were the steps not from his mama, but that they were made by someone his mama would want him to stay away from.

He began to cry and clenched his tiny hands into fists.

The hands of the sleeping mage also clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, in growing fear.

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