War of the Twins by Margaret Weis Read Free Book Online Page A

hair out of her eyes. Gray light seeped through the windows. Thin and wispy as a ghost, it brought no comfort. The Staff of Magiuscast its light still, keeping away the dark things of the night. But it shed no warmth. Crysania rubbed her aching neck. She was stiff and sore and she knew she must have been asleep for hours. The room was still freezing cold. Bleakly, she looked over at the cold and blackened firegrate.
    “There’s wood,” she faltered, her gaze going to the broken furniture lying about, “but I-I have no tinder or flint. I can’t—”
    “Wake my brother!” snarled Raistlin, and immediately began to gasp for breath. He tried to say something further, but could do no more than gesture feebly. His eyes glittered with such anger and his face was twisted with such rage that Crysania stared at him in alarm, feeling a chill that was colder than the air around her.
    Raistlin closed his eyes wearily and his hand went to his chest. “Please,” he whispered in agony, “the pain …”
    “Of course,” Crysania said gently, overwhelmed with shame. What would it be like to live with such pain, day after day? Leaning forward, she drew the curtain from her own shoulders and tucked it carefully around Raistlin. The mage nodded thankfully but could not speak. Then, shivering, Crysania crossed the room to where Caramon lay.
    Putting her hand out to touch his shoulder, she hesitated. What if he’s still blind? she thought, or what if he can see and decides … decides to kill Raistlin?
    But her hesitation lasted only a moment. Resolutely, she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him. If he does, she said to herself grimly, I will stop him. I did it once, I can do it again.
    Even as she touched him, she was aware of the pale guardians, lurking in the darkness, watching her every move.
    “Caramon,” she called softly, “Caramon, wake up. Please! We need—”
    “What?” Caramon sat up quickly, his hand going reflexively to his sword hilt—that wasn’t there. His eyes focused on Crysania, and she saw with relief tinged with fear that he could see her. He stared at her blankly, however, without recognition, then looked quickly around his surroundings.
    Then Crysania saw remembrance in the darkening of hiseyes, saw them fill with a haunted pain. She saw remembrance in the clenching of his jaw muscles and the cold gaze he turned upon her. She was about to say something—apologize, explain, rebuke—when his eyes grew suddenly tender as his face softened with concern.
    “Lady Crysania,” he said, sitting up and dragging the curtain from his body, “you’re freezing! Here, put this around you.”
    Before she could say a word in protest, Caramon wrapped the curtain around her snugly. She noticed as he did so that he looked once at his twin. But his gaze passed quickly over Raistlin, as if he did not exist.
    Crysania caught hold of his arm. “Caramon,” she said, “he saved our lives. He cast a spell. Those things out there in the darkness leave us alone because he told them to!”
    “Because they recognize one of their own!” Caramon said harshly, lowering his gaze and trying to withdraw his arm from her grasp. But Crysania held him fast, more with her eyes than her cold hand.
    “You can kill him now,” she said angrily. “Look, he’s helpless, weak. Of course, if you do, we’ll all die. But you were prepared to do that anyway, weren’t you!”
    “I can’t kill him,” Caramon said. His brown eyes were clear and cold, and Crysania—once again—saw a startling resemblance between the twins. “Let’s face it, Revered Daughter, if I tried, you’d only blind me again.”
    Caramon brushed her hand from his arm.
    “One of us, at least, should see clearly,” he said.
    Crysania felt herself flush in shame and anger, hearing Loralon’s words echo in the warrior’s sarcasm. Turning away from her, Caramon stood up quickly.
    “I’ll build a fire,” he said in a cold, hard voice, “if those”—he