At The Witching Hour

 

Set during Dragons of Autumn Twilight.

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At The Witching Hour

Tika Waylan had never been so nervous in her life. She was sitting on the cold ground at the edge of a little forest, hugging her knees and listening to the eerie sounds of the autumn night. The dark trees around her sighed and mumbled as the winds sang the dirge of the dying year. Sometimes an owl hooted softly from a branch above her, and from time to time there was a low, wailing cry in the distance that made her hair stand on end.

Sensitive to every little sound, Tika kept peering warily about her, throwing a few more sticks onto the small fire she'd laboriously built. She reproached herself for having volunteered for her first night watch duty with such overly acted enthusiasm. In truth, it had nothing to do with real courage - she had only done it because she had wanted to make Caramon see what a brave girl she was and also offer the warrior a convenient chance to be alone with her. It had certainly felt like a wonderful idea in the daylight, but now, surrounded by the ominous murmur of the forest, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Making believe there was nothing lurking in the darkness, no malignant eyes or hungry goblin jaws, Tika tried to enjoy the cheerful popping and cracking of the fire. She warmed her chill hands by it, staring into its orange light, smiling at the silly things Caramon had said and done when they were fooling around earlier in the day - like teasing her with a long straw of grass to make her sneeze, for instance.

All of a sudden Tika stiffened. What was that? There were sounds coming from behind her - a faint noise of footsteps on the leaf-covered path that led to the camp. Tika jumped on her feet, quickly grabbing the sword she had been practicing with for the last few weeks. "Who... Who goes there?" she demanded and noticed, much to her dismay, that her voice was shaking rather terribly.

Peering into the dark shrubbery, her heart beating like a drum, Tika listened to the rustle of the withered leaves under approaching feet. She squeezed the sword hilt with both of her hands, firmly believing she had been set upon by an enemy, until she saw the figure that emerged from the shadows of the trees. She noticed with relief that it was a human figure, but she couldn't make out the features against the moonlight. For one blink of an eye she was certain Caramon had understood her discreet invitation and was now sneaking up to her when everyone else was sound asleep. But when Tika saw who it was that entered the light of the fire, her hopeful smile withered.

It was not Caramon.

It was his brother. His mean, unkind, scornful twin.

Ridiculous as it was, seeing him made Tika a whole lot more nervous than standing face to face with some blood-thirsty woodland creature.

"Oh, by the...," she blurted in a shaking voice, with her hand on her racing heart. "You scared me."

The mage did not respond. He came to stand beside the fire, leaning on his strange staff, breathing heavily on account of his walk from the camp. There was not even a hint of smile on his thin lips, and his unsettling eyes gleaming in the depths of his red hood were as devoid of emotion as ever. Without saying a word, he reached out his thin, skeletal like hand and, grabbing Tika's sword by the blade with the tips of his fingers, turned it slowly away from him like it was nothing but a harmless wooden toy trembling in the grasp of a child.

Raistlin's heavy robes fluttered in a sudden gush of brisk autumn wind that caused a violent shiver to run through his skinny frame. Eyeing the man with disgust, Tika hoped he wouldn't start coughing up blood like he always did. It was one of the most nerve-wrecking sounds she knew, and it could go on for hours, it seemed. Not knowing what to say, Tika watched Raistlin sit down on a nearby rock. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, drawing warmth from the dancing fire.

It was obvious that the mage had come with a purpose, but as to what his purpose was, Tika had no clue. She knew enough to know that he would not seek her company to carry out a civil conversation. He had never said a kind word to her - only cruel comments about one small thing or another, belittling remarks that made her cry. She had to admit she was pretty scared of being in his presence, but, determined not to run away because of some breathless, haggard creep, she sat back down on the ground, folding her legs under her.

It was a very awkward situation. Tika fiddled nervously with her hair, stealing little glances at the mage. He didn't even seem to notice her presence, and it made Tika think he had come, typically enough, only to make her feel uncomfortable.

But then the mage finally spoke. "So," he said casually, "has he offered you a roll in the hay yet?"

Confused, Tika looked up and stared at the man, not sure as to whether she had heard right. "Excuse me?"

Raistlin had fixed his pensive gaze on the night sky that hung somber and oppressive over the forest, unnaturally darkened by the absent stellar constellations. When he sensed her confused stare, he lowered his gaze. His eyes were slightly amused, but Tika could swear there was also an unnerving little flame of anger in them.

The mage sneered. "Don't insult my intelligence by presuming I haven't noticed how you two disappear every once in a while for a scandalously long period of time. Everyone has noticed it, to tell you the truth." He gestured towards the camp with a tilt of his head. "The dwarf finds it very amusing."

Tika felt herself flush from head to toe. Of course - she should have known! They - excluding the charming Sturm Brightblade, of course - were probably making all kinds of dirty jokes about it behind her back, thinking that she had given herself to the warrior, when in truth she was downright terrified by the mere idea. She lifted her chin and said proudly, "I don't mind. We are grown-ups. As far as I know, grown-ups have a right to decide about their own life. Besides, we haven't even..."

She came to a halt, flushing even more furiously. The mage raised his eyebrows at her. His lips twitched in a complacent manner when he turned his eyes back to the lowering sky. Tika stared at him with her lips trembling, desperately trying to think of something to say. Oh, how she hated him. She absolutely hated him. That the two of them were twins was something she could not even start to understand.

Gathering up all her courage, Tika took a deep breath and said, "Did you go to the trouble of dragging yourself all the way up here out of breath just to ask me a rude question?"

To emphasize her words, Tika stared at the man with what she hoped was a stern, strong gaze. Raistlin stared back without blinking, studying her with his cursed vision until she had to be the first to avert her eyes. If he was hurt by her remark on his physical condition, he didn't let it show. And that was precisely the trouble with him, Tika thought. He never let anything show. No joy, no sadness, no nothing.

Then the mage laughed. It sounded terrible - like there were tiny pebbles scraping in his throat. "Most observant," he rasped. "Most observant. Go on like that and one day you will leave us all dumbfounded."

Tika turned her head away quickly and, gazing into the fire as if there was something interesting to see, blinked away the tears that had started to form in her eyes. Why did he have to be so mean? What had she ever done wrong? Nothing! Quite the contrary, she had tried to become friends with him from the very beginning, mostly because she knew it would please Caramon, but also because she was impressed by Raistlin's skills as a magician and honestly wanted to get to know him.

Now it was the last thing she wanted. It was a lost cause for anyone, trying to befriend that bitter, angry wreck of a human being who believed they should all treat him like a god or something. His dominating presence was hindering her from fully enjoying the dream-like time spent on the road with his marvelous brother. And what chafed her the most about it was the fact that he meant the world to Caramon. All those loving little touches, those shared, intimate glances, thoughts passing between them without audible words - she would have given anything to be in the mage's place.

"He will never love you like you want him to."

Distracted by the mage's soft, cold voice, Tika turned her eyes from the fire. "What?"

"I've seen the way you look at him", Raistlin whispered. "The way you stare at his chest and crotch when you think no one is looking."

Tika dropped her eyes horribly embarrassed. During the last few weeks, ever since her romantic interest in Caramon became obvious to everyone, she had got quite used to being taunted by the mage in every possible turn. This was a bit too much, however. She didn't like where the weird conversation was going. She didn't like it one bit.

But Raistlin did not show any signs of letting go. He bent closer to her like a conspirator, and Tika had no choice but to listen to his shattered voice with her head down.

"You're thinking," he started in his inimitable, overbearing style, "that with him it's going to be just like you always dreamed. That the sun is shining and birds are chirping when you spread your little legs to him and become a woman. You're thinking that he'll take you very gently, whispering loving confessions to you, and after that crowning achievement of your two months' acquaintance he belongs to you forever and ever."

Tika stared at the ground with wide eyes. She pressed her hands on her burning cheeks, fighting to gain control over herself as the mage's nasty words tainted her innocent hopes and dreams. She felt horridly stripped under Raistlin's stare - it was as if he could see straight into her soul. She glanced up and was instantly trapped by his intense eyes in which the fire reflected, heightening the gruesome impression.

Raistlin smiled at her maliciously, his eyes flickering with cruel delight. "I have something most unpleasant to tell you," he hissed. "That... is not... how it's going to be."

His words dropped on her like harsh punishments, one by one.

"What do you mean?" Tika was almost whispering. Her lips were dry and her voice nearly got stuck in her throat.

Raistlin studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes. He never answered right away if someone asked him a question - something that annoyed Tika to no end.

"Oh, but don't look so worried," he said caustically after a while, "Sooner or later he will take his, shall we say, easy pleasure in you. Perhaps several times even. First the regular way, then in a few different, sick ways you didn't even believe he could come up with. And that's it." His voice dropped to a ghastly whisper. "He won't even look you in the eye. No whispered confessions, no promises of love eternal. Just rough, hasty fucking in some damp, sorry cave."

Tika blinked in shock. The mage fell silent, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on her, allowing her to take in the full meaning of each sentence. The wind sighed in the bare branches, but Tika could hardly feel the blast of cold.

"And you," Raistlin resumed after some time and kicked a wind-blown ember away with his boot. "You will get nothing but bruises out of it. He'll use you and leave you like a rag for something superior. Because there is no room in his heart for you."

"And why is that?" Tika asked, instantly worried, but trying to sound indifferent. "Does he have some other woman somewhere that I should know about?"

Hearing her question, Raistlin raised his eyebrows in an amused manner. His lips curved slowly in a twisted smile, as if what she said was exceedingly funny. His reaction gave Tika a creeping, obnoxious feeling of being played a total fool - it was as if there was something she should have understood a long time ago, but she hadn't.

"Another woman," Raistlin echoed, biting his lower lip as if struggling to fight back a laugh. "Another woman. Sure."

Then the hideous amusement died in his eyes. "The point is," he stated, "you will open your body and soul for nothing. No matter how much pleasure you think you give him - and you will, I'm sure - you will not be able to keep him. No matter how you moan and suck and obey, you are not going to be his last lay."

He leaned closer again, speaking in a hissing whisper. "And, no matter how hard you wish for it to be true in your moving, virginal dreams, you are not going to be his first, either."

Tika stared at him. "How would you know?" she asked in a small voice.

Raistlin laughed. It was a horrible, rasping laugh, a mixture of barks and coughs. "If you are naive enough to ask that question, I do not think I'm even going to answer you."

"Just what are you talking about?" Tika insisted, growingly uncomfortable and upset.

The mage didn't answer. His laughter turned to coughing, and he wrapped his red woolen cape tighter around him for warmth. Tika noticed, and the realization hit her like a rock, that the cape was actually the one Caramon always wore. She had pressed her face against it so many times, breathing in the dizzying, arousing aroma that she had always thought belonged to the warrior. Suddenly feeling rather sick, she turned her head away.

"What are your two months compared to our twenty-five years?"

Raistlin was speaking with slow tenderness that Tika had never traced in his voice before.

"Years unending. Never separated. Think about it," he said and looked at her sharply when she raised her eyes. "Think about it very well."

There was something in his tone and the look in his eyes that made Tika feel extremely uneasy. She told herself that the mage only wanted to hurt her, for his own vicious reasons - in fact, she was certain about it when she saw a glimpse of immense pleasure in his eyes at the sight of her distress. But no matter how Tika tried, she could not ignore the ice cold knot that had furtively appeared around her heart. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stuttered, and a little, frustrated sob escaped her lips.

Raistlin looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, but you do. Tell me, why isn't he sitting here with you to protect you from the darkness with his life? Why, instead of enjoying the entertainment you have to give, is he lying down there with me? Indeed, why does he prefer mere being asleep with me to any amount of waking hours with you?"

Tika remained silent.

"Take your time," the mage encouraged derisively. "We've got the whole night."

She was too stunned to respond. Besides, she knew her voice would have crumbled into childish tears.

Raistlin's face distorted in horrid satisfaction. "The answer is, your sweetheart is not sitting here with you, not tonight or any other night, because he doesn't give a solitary damn about your well-being. You can be alone and cold and in torment - it does not matter. He discards you anytime, anywhere, to take care of my needs. Haven't you seen that he does absolutely everything in his power to make me feel good? Everything."

Tika looked down at her hands - they started to shake, slowly but steadily, as the reality of the mage's words hit her. Her eyes widened in realization, and when Raistlin saw it, a mean smile rose to his lips.

It was the meanest smile she had ever seen, and it made her feel like running away as far and as fast as she could. She knew she didn't want to hear, but there was no way she could fight Raistlin's sickening words that slipped into her soul and turned her stomach.

"Do you honestly think that you could ever satisfy him the way I do?" the mage asked in a low voice, forcing her to listen as if he was weaving a spell around her. "That you could ever make him cry as he holds you in his arms, make him sob your name again and again? Beg for it again and again?"

Tika drew in a trembling breath as the shaking spread to her whole body. It couldn't be like that, it just couldn't! Caramon was a good, honorable man, wasn't he? He knew the difference between right and wrong, whereas Raistlin - well, he was sick and disturbed, even more so than she had previously thought. He was telling her wicked, depraved lies just to make her feel bad, to make her love for his brother seem tainted and ridiculous.

"You're lying," she gritted through her teeth. "I will never believe you."

The mage shrugged his slim, robe-clad shoulders and cast her almost a pitying look. "Then you have no one to blame but yourself. Relish the time you have left. It will not last long."

He started to rise. Not wanting to grant him the joy of having the last word, Tika stopped him. "I know what you're doing," she said defiantly.

There was not even a mild spark of interest in the mage's eyes, but he sat back down, nevertheless, heaving a bored sigh.

"You're telling me all those terrible lies because... because you can't handle the fact that your brother can touch me like a man." She spoke rapidly, her voice trembling with anger. "It drives you crazy! That he can kiss me and hold me and all, anytime he wants, while you sit alone sulking and have nothing but some... some sad fantasies."

Tika paused for breath and, shocked by her own audacity, threw a scared glance at the mage. He was staring into the darkness with a self-righteous smile on his face, motionless and cool, as if nothing in the world could touch him. But Tika could see his fists were clenched, and his smile faltered for a short moment.

After a moment of awful silence, he turned to look at her with cold, hard eyes and said in a horribly blank voice, "If you are quite finished with what you have to say, I'm afraid I'm going to have to go and have my rest." He stood up with the help of his staff and added, "You can stay here and pretend you're a brave little warrior girl. But for goodness sake, don't keep your hopes up. He won't come."

Feeling uneasy sitting down at his feet, Tika got up, as well, and drew herself up to her full height to gain more confidence. It wasn't much of a help though, for she recoiled as the mage suddenly stepped forward towards her. She tried to back away, but noticed she was most inconveniently trapped between the fire and the man. With a great reluctance, she looked up and met Raistlin's gaze - it was obvious that her panic triggered great delight in him, for there was a faint suggestion of genuine glee in his eyes. She had never been so close to him before, and his proximity made her realize for the first time just how much he resembled his gentle twin. It was not a pleasurable realization.

"Twenty-five years," the mage whispered again and, giving her a brief, one-sided smile, brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. It was a very light, quick touch, but not nearly quick enough for Tika not to feel his bony wrist brush against her breast in passing; almost accidentally, but lingering just a little bit too long to be anything other than intentional. She almost screamed. Clouds drifted across the pale moon, and for a while she again saw the striking resemblance between the mage and his brother. For some reason it appalled her even more than his feverish touch.

"Remember that," Raistlin said in conclusion, turned around abruptly and started toward the path. Tika crossed her arms over her chest, shuddering violently from something else than cold, unable to move. Then she heard him stop.

"One more thing."

Tika closed her eyes without turning to look at him, hoping for nothing more than the torment to end.

"I suggest you stop hoping that I fantasize about you. You'll only end up disappointed."

The dead leaves rustled as he resumed his steps. He was gone.

Tika's face crumpled. "You bastard," she whispered. "You heartless, soulless bastard."

She only moved after Raistlin's footsteps had completely disappeared down the path. She sat back down, too disgusted to even cry, feeling numb and disillusioned, dirty where he had touched him. With distaste, she imagined Raistlin going back to the camp - how he would lie down next to his brother, still wearing that smug smile, and how Caramon would stir awake and look at him with worried eyes, while she was sitting utterly alone at the edge of the darkness, protected from its beasts by nothing more than a preposterous ring of fire.

And there was something else, too, something she didn't even want to think about. She didn't even know how to think about it.

Their bedrolls were always side by side. It was dark, even darker under the blankets.

Did they...? Were they...?

Furiously shaking her head to drive away the horrible images, Tika covered her face with her hands in desperation. Ruined, everything was ruined! It wasn't even true, it couldn't be, something so vile and perverted, but she knew the image would return every time Caramon would touch her. For the first time she didn't look forward to seeing the warrior in the morning. And she wouldn't even bear to look at Raistlin anymore - just one flash of triumphant malice in his eyes, and she would start screaming.

He was lying, of course. It was all he could do. Lie.

But if she was so certain, how come she felt so cold by the fire?

 

 

THE END