War of the Twins by Margaret Weis;Tracy Hickman

Author:Margaret Weis;Tracy Hickman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Dragonlance, Young Adult, Fantasy, .Correct&Complete, .Reading List, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780786918058
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 1986-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

Standing in the oppressive silence, the rain beating down upon his head, Caramon heard a voice thudding at his brain with the same monotonous, dull tone as the drops spattering about him.

He seeks to become a god.. He seeks to become a god!

Sick and afraid, Caramon shook his head in anguish. His interest in the army, his fascination with being a “general,” his attraction to Crysania, and all the other, thousand worries had driven from his mind the real reason he had come back. Now with Crysania’s words—it returned to him, hitting him like a wave of chill sea water.

Yet all he could think of was Raistlin as he was last night. How long had it been since he’d heard his brother laugh like that? How long had it been since they’d shared that warmth, that closeness? Vividly, he remembered watching Raistlin s face as he guarded his twin’s sleep. He saw the harsh lines of cunning smooth, the bitter creases around the mouth fade. The arch-mage looked almost young again, and Caramon remembered their childhood and young manhood together—those days that had been the happiest of his life.

But then came, unbidden, a hideous memory, as though his soul were taking a perverse delight in torturing and confusing him. He saw himself once more in that dark cell in Istar, seeing clearly, for the first time, his brothers vast capability for evil. He remembered his firm determination that his brother must die. He thought of Tasslehoff. . . .

But Raistlin had explained all that! He had explained things at Istar. Once again, Caramon felt himself foundering.

What if Par-Salian is wrong, what if they are all wrong? What if Raist and Crysania could save the world from horror and suffering like this?

“I’m just a jealous, bumbling fool,” Caramon mumbled, wiping the rainwater from his face with a trembling hand. “Maybe those old wizards are all like me, all jealous of him.”

The darkness deepened about him, the clouds above grew denser, changing from gray to black. The rain beat down more heavily.

Raistlin came out the door, Crysania with him, her hand on his arm. She was wrapped in her thick cloak, her grayish—white hood drawn up over her head. Caramon cleared his throat.

“I’ll go bring him out and put him with the others,” he said gruffly, starting for the door. “Then I’ll fill in the grave—”

“No, my brother,” Raistlin said. “No. This sight will not be hidden in the ground.” He cast back his hood, letting the rain wash over his face as he lifted his gaze to the clouds. “This sight will flare in the eyes of the gods! The smoke of their destruction will rise to heaven! The sound will resound in their ears!”

Caramon, startled at this unusual outburst, turned to look at his twin. Raistlin’s thin face was nearly as gaunt and pale as the corpse’s inside the small house, his voice tense with anger.

“Come with me,” he said, abruptly breaking free of Crysania’s hold and striding toward the center of the small village.

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