Before he could reply, Tanis heard a moan. It sounded as if it came from the base of the throne. Casting Raistlin an angry glance, Tanis turned quickly from him and stared into the shadows. Warily he approached, his sword drawn.

"Alhana!" The elfmaid crouched at her father's feet, her head in his lap, weeping. She did not seem to hear Tanis. He went to her. "Alhana," he said gently.

She looked up at him without recognition.

"Alhana," he said again.

She blinked, then shuddered, and grabbed hold of his hand as if clutching at reality.

"Half-Elven!" she whispered.

"How did you get here? What happened?"

"I heard the mage say it was a dream," Alhana answered, shivering at the memory, "and I-I refused to believe in the dream. I woke, but only to find the nightmare was real! My beautiful land filled with horrors!" She hid her face in her hands. Tanis knelt beside her and held her close.

"I made my way here. It took-days. Through the nightmare." She gripped Tanis tightly. "When I entered the Tower, the dragon caught me. He brought me here, to my father, thinking to make Lorac murder me. But not even in his nightmare could my father harm his own child. So Cyan tortured him with visions, of what he would do to me."

"And you? You saw them, too?" Tanis whispered, stroking the woman's long, dark hair with a soothing hand.

After a moment, Alhana spoke. "It wasn't so bad. I knew it was nothing but a dream. But to my poor father it was reality-" She began to sob.

The half-elf motioned to Caramon. "Take Alhana to a room where she can lie down. We'll do what we can for her father."

"I will be all right, my brother," Raistlin said in answer to Caramon's look of concern. "Do as Tanis says."

"Come, Alhana," Tanis urged her, helping her stand. She staggered with weariness. "Is there a place you can rest? You'll need your strength."

At first she started to argue, then she realized how weak she was. "Take me to my father's room," she said. "I'll show you the way." Caramon put his arm around her, and slowly they began to walk from the chamber.

Tanis turned back to Lorac. Raistlin stood before the elf king. Tanis heard the mage speaking softly to himself.

"What is it?" the half-elf said quietly. "Is he dead?"

"Who?" Raistlin started, blinking. He saw Tanis looking at Lorac. "Oh, Lorac? No, I do not believe so. Not yet."

Tanis realized the mage had been staring at the dragon orb.

"Is the orb still in control?" Tanis asked nervously, his eyes on the object they had gone through so much to find.

The dragon orb was a huge globe of crystal, at least twenty-four inches across. It sat upon a stand of gold that had been carved in hideous, twisted designs, mirroring the twisted, tormented life of Silvanesti. Though the orb must have been the source of the brilliant green light, there was now only a faint, iridescent, pulsing glow at its heart.

Raistlin's hands hovered over the globe, but, Tanis noted, he was careful not to touch it as he chanted the spidery words of magic. A faint aura of red began to surround the globe. Tanis backed away.

"Do not fear," Raistlin whispered, watching as the aura died. "It is my spell. The globe is enchanted-still. Its magic has not died with the pa.s.sing of the dragon, as I thought possible. It is still in control, however."

"Control of Lorac?"

"Control of itself. It has released Lorac."

"Did you do this?" Tanis murmured. "Did you defeat it?"

"The orb is not defeated!" Raistlin said sharply. "With help, I was able to defeat the dragon. Realizing Cyan Bloodbane was losing, the orb sent him away. It let go of Lorac because it could no longer use him. But the orb is still very powerful."

"Raistlin, tell me-"

"I have no more to say, Tanis." The young mage coughed. "I must conserve my energy."

Whose help had Raistlin received? What else did he know of this...o...b.. Tanis opened his mouth to pursue the subject, then he saw Raistlin's golden eyes flicker. The half-elf fell silent.

"We can free Lorac now," Raistlin added. Walking to the elf king, he gently removed Lorac's hand from the dragon orb, then put his slender fingers to Lorac's neck. "He lives. For the time being. The lifebeat is weak. You may come closer."

But Tanis, his eyes on the dragon orb, held back. Raistlin glanced at the half-elf, amused, then beckoned.

Reluctantly, Tanis approached. "Tell me one more thing-can the orb still be of use to us?"

For long moments, Raistlin was silent. Then, faintly, he replied, "Yes, if we dare."

Lorac drew a shivering breath, then screamed, a thin, wailing scream horrible to hear. His hands-little more than living skeletal claws-twisted and writhed. His eyes were tightly closed. In vain, Tanis tried to calm him. Lorac screamed until he was out of breath, and then he screamed silently.

"Father!" Tanis heard Alhana cry. She reappeared in the doorway of the audience chamber and pushed Caramon aside. Running to her father, she grasped his bony hands in hers. Kissing his hands, she wept, pleading for him to be silent.

"Rest, Father," she repeated over and over. "The nightmare is ended. The dragon is gone. You can sleep, Father!"

But the man's screaming continued.

"In the name of the G.o.ds!" Caramon said as he came up to them, his face pale. "I can't take much of this."

"Father!" Alhana pleaded, calling to him again and again. Slowly her beloved voice penetrated the twisted dreams that lingered on in Lorac's tortured mind. Slowly his screams died to little more than horrified whimpers. Then, as if fearing what he might see, he opened his eyes.

"Alhana, my child. Alive!" He lifted a shaking hand to touch her cheek. "It cannot be! I saw you die, Alhana. I saw you die a hundred times, each time more horrifying than the last. He killed you, Alhana. He wanted me me to kill you. But I could not. Though I know not why, as I have killed so many." Then he caught sight of Tanis. His eyes flared open, shining with hatred. to kill you. But I could not. Though I know not why, as I have killed so many." Then he caught sight of Tanis. His eyes flared open, shining with hatred.

"You!" Lorac snarled, rising from his chair, his gnarled hands clutching the sides of the throne. "You, half-elf! I killed you-or tried to. I must protect Silvanesti! I killed you! I killed those with you." Then his eyes went to Raistlin. The look of hatred was replaced by one of fear. Trembling, he shrank away from the mage. "But you, you I could not kill!"

Lorac's look of terror changed to confusion. "No," he cried. "You are not he! Your robes are not black! Who are you?" His eyes went back to Tanis. "And you? You are not a threat? What have I done?" He moaned.

"Don't, Father," Alhana pleaded, soothing him, stroking his fevered face. "You must rest now. The nightmare is ended. Silvanesti is safe."

Caramon lifted Lorac in his strong arms and carried him to his chambers. Alhana walked next to him, her father's hand held fast in her own.

Safe, Tanis thought, glancing out the windows at the tormented trees. Although the undead elven warriors no longer stalked the woods, the tortured shapes Lorac had created in his nightmare still lived. The trees, contorted in agony, still wept blood. Who will live here now? Tanis wondered sadly. The elves will not return. Evil things will enter this dark forest and Lorac's nightmare will become reality.

Thinking of the nightmarish forest, Tanis suddenly wondered where his other friends were. Were they all right? What if they had believed the nightmare-as Raistlin said? Would they have truly died? His heart sinking, he knew he would have to go back into that demented forest and search for them.

Just as the half-elf began to try and force his weary body to action, his friends entered the Tower room.

"I killed him!" Tika cried, catching sight of Tanis. Her eyes were wide with grief and terror. "No! Don't touch me, Tanis. You don't know what I've done. I killed Flint! I didn't mean to, Tanis, I swear!"

As Caramon entered the room, Tika turned to him, sobbing. "I killed Flint, Caramon. Don't come near me!"

"Hush," Caramon said, gently enfolding her in his big arms. "It was a dream, Tika. That's what Raist says. The dwarf was never here. Shhh." Stroking Tika's red curls, he kissed her. Tika clung to him, Caramon clung to her, each finding comfort with the other. Gradually Tika's sobs lessened.

"My friend," Goldmoon said, reaching out to embrace Tanis.

Seeing the grave, somber expression on her face, the half-elf held her tightly, glancing questioningly at Riverwind. What had each of them dreamed? But the Plainsman only shook his head, his own face pale and grieved.

Then it occurred to Tanis that each must have lived through his or her own dream, and he suddenly remembered Kitiara! How real she had been! And Laurana, dying. Closing his eyes, Tanis laid his head against Goldmoon's. He felt Riverwind's strong arms surround them both. Their love blessed him. The horror of the dream began to recede.

And then Tanis had a terrifying thought. Lorac's dream became reality! Would theirs? Would theirs?

Behind him, Tanis heard Raistlin begin to cough. Clutching his chest, the mage sank down onto the steps leading up to Lorac's throne. Tanis saw Caramon, still holding Tika, glance at his brother in concern. But Raistlin ignored his brother. Gathering his robes around him, the mage lay down on the cold floor and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Sighing, Caramon pressed Tika closer. Tanis watched her small shadow become part of Caramon's larger one as they stood together, their bodies outlined in the distorted silver and red beams of the fractured moonlight.

We all must sleep, Tanis thought, feeling his own eyes burn. Yet how can we? How can we ever sleep again?

12.

Visions shared.

The death of Lorac.

Yet finally they slept. Huddled on the stone floor of the Tower of the Stars, they kept as near each other as possible. While, as they slept, others in lands cold and hostile, lands far from Silvanesti, wakened.

Laurana woke first. Starting up from a deep sleep with a cry, at first she had no idea where she was. She spoke one word-"Silvanesti!"

Flint, trembling, woke to find that his fingers still moved, the pains in his legs were no worse than usual.

Sturm woke in panic. Shaking with terror, for long moments he could only crouch beneath his blankets, shuddering. Then he heard something outside his tent. Starting up, hand on his sword, he crept forward and threw open the tent flap.

"Oh!" Laurana gasped at the sight of his haggard face.

"I'm sorry," Sturm said. "I didn't mean-" Then he saw she was shaking so she could scarcely hold her candle. "What is it?" he asked, alarmed, drawing her out of the cold.

"I-I know this sounds silly," Laurana said, flushing, "but I had the most frightening dream and I couldn't sleep."

Shivering, she allowed Sturm to lead her inside the tent. The flame of her candle cast leaping shadows around the tent. Sturm, afraid she might drop it, took it from her.

"I didn't mean to wake you, but I heard you call out. And my dream was so real! You were in it-I saw you-"

"What is Silvanesti like?" Sturm interrupted abruptly.

Laurana stared at him. "But that's where I dreamed we were! Why did you ask? Unless...you dreamed of Silvanesti, too!"

Sturm wrapped his cloak around him, nodding. "I-" he began, then heard another noise outside the tent. This time, he just opened the tent flap. "Come in, Flint," he said wearily.

The dwarf stumped inside, his face flushed. He seemed embarra.s.sed to find Laurana there, however, and stammered and stamped until Laurana smiled at him.

"We know," she said. "You had a dream. Silvanesti?"

Flint coughed, clearing his throat and wiping his face with his hand. "Apparently I'm not the only one?" he asked, staring narrowly at the other two from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "I suppose you-you want me to tell you what I dreamed?"

"No!" Sturm said hurriedly, his face pale. "No, I do not want to talk about it-ever!"

"Nor I," Laurana said softly.

Hesitantly, Flint patted her shoulder. "I'm glad," he said gruffly. "I couldn't talk about mine either. I just wanted to see if it was a dream. It seemed so real I expected to find you both-"

The dwarf stopped. There was a rustling sound outside, then Ta.s.slehoff burst excitedly through the tent flap.

"Did I hear you talking about a dream? I never never dream, at least not that I remember. Kender don't, much. Oh, I suppose we do. Even animals dream, but-" He caught Flint's eye and came hurriedly back to the original subject. "Well! I had the most fantastic dream! Trees crying blood. Horrible dead elves going around killing people! Raistlin wearing black robes! It was the most incredible thing! And you were there, Sturm. Laurana and Flint. And everyone died! Well, almost everyone. Raistlin didn't. And there was a green dragon-" dream, at least not that I remember. Kender don't, much. Oh, I suppose we do. Even animals dream, but-" He caught Flint's eye and came hurriedly back to the original subject. "Well! I had the most fantastic dream! Trees crying blood. Horrible dead elves going around killing people! Raistlin wearing black robes! It was the most incredible thing! And you were there, Sturm. Laurana and Flint. And everyone died! Well, almost everyone. Raistlin didn't. And there was a green dragon-"

Ta.s.slehoff stopped. What was wrong with his friends? Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes wide. "G-green dragon," he stammered. "Raistlin, dressed in black. Did I mention that? Q-quite becoming, actually. Red always makes him look kind of jaundiced, if you know what I mean. You don't. Well, I g-guess I'll go back to bed. If you don't want to hear anymore?" He looked around hopefully. No one answered.

"Well, g-night," he mumbled. Backing out of the tent precipitously, he returned to his bed, shaking his head, puzzled. What was the matter with everyone? It was only a dream- For long moments, no one spoke. Then Flint sighed.

"I don't mind having a nightmare," the dwarf said dourly. "But I object to sharing it with a kender. How do you suppose we all came to have the same dream? And what does it mean?"

"A strange land-Silvanesti," Laurana said. Taking her candle, she started to leave. Then she looked back. "Do you-do you think it was real? Did they die, as we saw?" Was Tanis with that human woman? she thought, but didn't ask aloud.

"We're here," said Sturm. "We didn't die. We can only trust the others didn't either. And"-he paused-"this seems funny, but somehow I know they're all right." they're all right."

Laurana looked at the knight intently for a moment, saw his grave face calm after the initial shock and horror had worn off. She felt herself relax. Reaching out, she took Sturm's strong lean hand in her own and pressed it silently. Then she turned and left, slipping back into the starlit night.

The dwarf rose to his feet. "Well, so much for sleep. I'll take my turn at watch now."

"I'll join you," said Sturm, standing and buckling on his swordbelt.

"I suppose we'll never know," Flint said, "why or how we all dreamed the same dream."

"I suppose not," Sturm agreed.

The dwarf walked out of the tent. Sturm started to follow, then stopped as his eyes caught a glimpse of light. Thinking perhaps that a bit of wick had fallen from Laurana's candle, he bent down to put it out, only to find instead that the jewel Alhana had given him had slipped from his belt and lay upon the ground. Picking it up, he noticed it was gleaming with its own inner light, something he'd never seen it do before.

"I suppose not," Sturm repeated thoughtfully, turning the jewel over and over in his hand.

Morning dawned in Silvanesti for the first time in many long, horrifying months. But only one saw it. Lorac, watching from his bedchamber window, saw the sun rise above the glistening aspens. The others, worn out, slept soundly.

Alhana had not left her father's side all night. But exhaustion had overwhelmed her, and she fell asleep sitting in her chair. Lorac saw the pale sunlight light her face. Her long black hair fell across her face like cracks in white marble. Her skin was torn by thorns, caked with dried blood. He saw beauty, but that beauty was marred by arrogance. She was the epitome of her people. Turning back, he looked outside into Silvanesti, but found no comfort there. A green, noxious mist still hung over Silvanesti, as though the ground itself was rotting.

"This is my doing," he said to himself, his eyes lingering on the twisted, tortured trees, the pitiful misshapen beasts that roamed the land, seeking an end to their torment.

For over four hundred years, Lorac had lived in this land. He had watched it take shape and flower beneath his hands and the hands of his people.