Goldmoon knelt to heal him, but she stumbled over her prayers, her faith failing her amid the horror.

"Help me, Mishakal,"' Goldmoon prayed. "Help me to help my friend.'"

The dreadful wound closed. Though blood still seeped from it, trickling down Caramon's arm, death loosed its grip on the warrior Raistlin knelt beside his brother and started to speak to him. Then suddenly the wage fell silent. He stared past Caramon into the trees, his strange eyes widening with disbelief.

"You!" Raistlin whispered.

' "Who is it?" Caramon asked weakly, hearing a thrill of horror and fear in Raistlin's voice. The big man peered into the green light but could see nothing. "Who do you mean?"

But Raistlin, intent upon another conversation, did not answer.

'7 need your aid," the mage said sternly. "Now, as before."

Caramon sawn his brother stretch out his )hand, as though reaching .across a great gap, and was consumed with fear without knowing why.

"No, Raist!" he cried, clutching at his brother in panic. Raistlin's hand dropped.

"Our bargain remains. What? You ask for more?" Raistlin was silent a moment, then he sighed. "Name it!"

For long moments, the mage listened, absorbing. Caramon, watching him with loving anxiety, saw his brother"s thin metallic-tinged face grow deathly pale. Raistlin closed his eyes, swallowing as though drinking his bitter herbal brew. Finally he bowed his head.

"I accept:"

Caramon cried out in horror as he saw Raistlin's robes, the red robes that marked his neutrality in the world, begin to deepen to crimson, then darken to a blood red, and then darken more-to black.

"I accept this;' Raistlin repeated more calmly, "with the understanding that the future can be changed. What must we do?"

He listened. Caramon clutched his arm, moaning in agony.

"How do we get through to the Tower alive?" Raistlin asked his unseen instructor. Once mare he attended carefully, then nodded. "And I will be given what I need? Very well. Farewell then, if such a thing is possible for yaw on your dark journey.'

Raistlin rose to his feet, his black robes rustling around him. Ignoring Caramon's sobs and Goldmoon's terrified gasp as she saw him, the mage went in search of Tanis. He found the halfelf, back against a tree, battling a host of elven warriors.

Calmly, Raistlin reached into his pouch and drew forth a bit of rabbit fur and a small amber rod. Rubbing these together in his left palm, he held forth his right hand and spoke, "Ast kiranann kair Gadurm Soth-arn,: Sub kala'alaran:'

Bolts of lightning shot from his fingertips, streaking through the green-tinted air, striking the elven warriors. As before, they vanished. Tanis stumbled backwards, exhausted.

Raistlin stood in the center of a clearing, of the distorted, tormented trees.

"Came around me!" the mage commanded his companions.

Tanis hesitated. Elven warriors hovered on the fringe of the clearing. They surged forward to attack, but Raistlin raised his hand, and they stopped as though crashing against an unseen wall.

"Come to stand near me:' The companions were astonished to hear Raistlin speak-for the first time since his Tests-in a normal voice. "Hurry;" he added, "they will not attack now. They fear me. But I cannot hold them back long:'

Tanis came forward, his face pale beneath the red beard, blood dribbling from a wound on his head. Goldmoon helped Caramon stagger forward. He clutched his bleeding arm as his face was twisted in pain. Slowly, one by one, the other companions crept forward. Finally, only Sturm stood outside the circle.

"I always knew it would come to this;" the knight said slowly. "I will die before I place myself under your protection, Raistlin:'

And with that, the knight turned and walked deeper into the forest. Tanis saw the leader of the elven undead make a gesture, detailing same of his ghastly band to follow. The half-elf started after, then stopped as he felt a surprisingly strong hand grip his arm.

"Let him go;' the mage said sternly, "or we are all lost. I have information to impart and my time is limited. We must make our way through this forest to the Tower of the Stars. We mast walk the way of death, for every hideous creature ever conceived in the twisted, tortured dreams of mortals will arose to stop us. But know this-we walk in a dream, Lorac`s nightmare. And our own nightmares as well. Visions of the future can arise to help us-or hinder. Remember, that though our bodies are awake, our minds sleep. Death exists only in our minds-unless we believe otherwise:'

"Then why can't we wake up?" Tanis demanded angrily.

"Because Lorac's belief in tine dream is too strong and your belief too Weak. When you are firmly convinced, beyond doubt, that this is a dream; you will return to reality:"

"Ii this is true;' Tanis said, "and you're convinced it is a dream, why don't you awaken?"

"Perhaps;" Raistlin said, smiling, "I choose not to:'

"I don't understand!" Tanis cried in bitter frustration.

"You will," Raistlin predicted grimly, "or you will die. In which case, it won't matter:'

Chapter I0

Waking dreams. Future visions.

Ignoring the horrified stares. of his companions, Raistlin walked to his brother, who stand clutching his bleeding arm.

"I will take rare of him," Raistlin said to Goldmoon, putting his own black-robed arm around his twin.

"No," Caramon gasped, "you're not strong en-"His voice died as he felt his brothers arm support him..

"I am strong enough now, -Caramon:' Raistlin said gently, his very gentleness sending a shiver through the warrior's body. "Lean on me, my brother:'

Weak from pain and fear, for the first time in his life Caramon leaned on Raistlin, The mage supported him as, together, they starting walking through the hideous forest.

"What's happening, Raist?'' Caramon asked, choking. "Why do you wear the Black Robes? And your voice-"

"Save your breath, my brother;" Raistlin advised softly.

The two traveled deeper into the forest, and the undead elven warriors stared menacingly at them from the trees. They could see the hatred the dead bear the living, see it flicker in the hollow eye sockets of the undead warriors. But none dared attack the black-robed mage. Caramon felt his life's blood well thick and warm from between his fingers. As he watched it drip upon the dead, slime-coated leaves beneath his feet, he grew weaker and weaker. He had the fevered impression that the black shadow of himself gained in strength even as he lost it.