Tasslehoff, fascinated by the horrible wonders around him, wandered off the path, and there discovered that-somehow his friends had managed to lose him. The undead did not bother him. They who fed oft fear felt no fear in his small body.

Finally, after roaming here and there for nearly a day, the kender reached the doors to the 'Tower of the Stars. Here his lighthearted journey came to a sudden halt, for he had found his friends-one of them at least.

Sacked up against the closed doors, Tika fought for her life against. a host of misshapen, nightmare-begotten foes. Tas saw that if she could get inside the Tower, she would be safe. Dashing forward, his small body flitting easily through the melee, the reached the door and began to examine the lock while Tika held the elves back with her wildly swinging sword.

"Hurry, Tas!" she cried breathlessly.

It was an easy lock to open; with such a simplistic trap to protect it, Tas was surprised that the elves even bothered.

"I should have this lock picked in seconds;' he announced. Just as he set to work, however, something bumped him from behind, causing him to fumble.

"Hey!" he shocked at Tika irritably, turning around. "Be a little more careful-" He stopped short, horrified. Tika lay at his feet, blood flowing into her red curls.

"No, not Tika!" Tas whispered. Maybe she was only wounded! Maybe if he got her inside the Tower, someone could help her. Tears dimmed his vision, his hands shook.

I've got to hurry, Tas thought frantically. Why won"t this open? It's so simple. Furious, he tore at the lock.

He felt a small prick in his finger just as the lock clicked. The door to the Tower began to swing open. But Tasslehoff just stared at his finger where a tiny spot of blood glistened. He looked back at the lock where a small, golden needle sparkled. A simple lock, a simple trap. He'd sprung them both. And, as the first effects of the poison surged with a terrible warmness through his body, he looked down to see he was too late. Tika was dead.

Raistlin and his brother made their way through the forest without injury. Caramon watched in growing amazement as Raistlin drove back the evil creatures that assailed them; sometimes with feats of incredible magic, sometimes through the sheer farce of his will.

Raistlin was kind and gentle and solicitous. Caramon was forced to strap frequently as the day waned. By twilight, it was all Caramon could do to drag one foot in front of the other, even leaning upon his brother far support. And as Caramon grew ever weaker, Raistlin grew stronger.

Finally, when night's shadows fell, bunging a merciful end to the tortured green day, the twins reached the Tower. Here they stopped. Caramon was feverish and in pairs.

"I've got to rest, Raist:' he gasped. "Put me down:"

"Certainly, my brother;" Raistlin said gently. He helped Caramon lean against the pearl wall of the Tower, then regarded his brother with tool, glittering eyes.

"Farewell, Caramon;' he said.

Caramon looked at his twin in disbelief. Within the shadows of the trees, the warrior could see the undead elves, who had followed them at a respectful distance, creep closer as they realized the mage who had warded them off was leaving.

"Raist;' Caramon said slowly, "you can't leave me here! I can't fight them. I don't have the strength! I need you!"

"Perhaps, but you see, my brother, I no longer need you. I have gained your strength. Now, finally, I am as I was meant to be but for nature's cruel trick-one whale person:"

As Caramon stared, uncomprehending, Raistlin turned to leave.

'Raist!"

Caramon's agonized cry halted him. Raistlin stopped and gazed back at his twin, his golden eyes all that were visible from within the depths of his black hood.

"How does it feel to be weak and afraid, my brother?" he asked softly. Turning, Raistlin walked to the Tower entrance where Tika and Tas lay dead. Raistlin stepped over the kender's body and vanished into the darkness.

Sturm and Tanis and Kitiara, reaching the Tower, saw a body tying on the grass at its base. Phantom shapes of undead elves were starting to surround it, shrieking and yelling, hacking at it with their cold swords.

"Caramon!" Tanis cried, heartsick.

"And where's his brother?" Sturm asked with a sidelong glance at Kitiara. "Left him to die, no doubt."

Tanis shook his head as they ran forward to aid the warrior. Wielding their swords, Sturm and Kitiara kept the elves at bay while Tanis knelt beside the mortally wounded warrior.

Caramon lifted his glazed eyes and met Tanis's, barely recognizing him through the bloody haze that dimmed his vision. He tried desperately to talk.

"Protect Raistlin, Tanis-" Caramon choked on his own. blood-"since I won't be there now. Watch over him."

"Watch over Raistlin 7" Tanis repeated furiously. "He left you here, to die!" Tanis held Caramon in his arms.

Caramon closed his eyes wearily. 'No, you're wrong, Tanis. I sent him away. – . :"The warrior's head slumped .forward.

THE DRAGONS OF WINTER NIGHT

Night's shadows closed over them. The elves had disappeared. Sturm and Kit came to stand beside the dead warrior.

"What did I tell you?" Sturm asked harshly.

"Poor Caramon," Kitiara whispered, bending down near him. "Somehow I always guessed it would end this way:" She was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. "So my little Raistlin has become truly powerful,"' she mused, almost to herself.

"At the cost of your brother's life!"

Kitiara looked at Tanis as if perplexed at his meaning. Then, shrugging, she glanced down at Caramon, who lay in a pool of his own blood. "Poor kid;' she said softly.

Sturm covered Caramon's body with his cloak, then they sought the entrance to the Tower.

"Tanis-" Sturm said, pointing.

"Oh, no. Not Tas," Tanis murmured. "And Tika.''

The kenders body lay just inside the doorway, his small limbs twisted by convulsions from the poison. Near him lay the barmaid, her red curls matted with blood. Tanis knelt beside them. One of the kender's packs had opened in his death throes, its contents scattered. Tanis caught sight of a glint of gold. Reaching down, he picked up the ring of elven make, carved in the shape of ivy leaves. His vision blurred, tears filled his eyes as he covered his face with his hands.

'There's nothing we can do, Tanis:' Sturm put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "We've got to keep going and put an end to this. If I do nothing else, I'll live to kill Raistlin'