The bandits had thought to jump defenseless young travelers. Caramon's sword and Raistlin's fiery spells soon

apprised them of their mistake. The bandits left one of their number dead on the road, the rest dashed off to bind

their wounds. The goblins proved too numerous to fight, however. The brothers took refuge in a cave until the troop

had marched past, heading northward at a rapid pace.

The twins spent four days searching for the forest. Caramon, frustrated and nervous, said more than once that

they ought to turn back. He consulted three maps-one given him by Tasslehoff, one provided by an innkeeper in

Haven, and another taken from the body of the thief. Not one of the maps showed the forest in the same location.

Raistlin soothed his brother's concerns with as much calm as he could muster, though he himself was starting to

worry Tomorrow was the seventh day, and they had seen no sign of the forest.

That night they spread their bedrolls in a clearing of scraggly pines. They awakened to find themselves lying

beneath the huge, spreading bows of enormous oak trees.

Caramon almost fled then and there. The oak trees were not ordinary oak trees. He saw eyes in the knotholes, he

heard spoken words in the rustling of the leaves. He heard words in the songs of the birds as well. Though he

couldn't understand them clearly, the birds seemed to him to be warning him to leave.

The twins gathered their belongings, mounted their horses. The oak trees stood shoulder to shoulder, stalwart

guards blocking their path. Raistlin regarded the trees in silence a moment, summoning his courage. He urged his

horse forward. The oaks parted, forming a clear path that led straight to the tower.

Caramon tried to ride after his brother. The trees glared at him with hatred, the leaves rustled in anger. His

courage failed

him. Fear took hold of him, wrung him, left him weak and helpless, powerless to move.

"Raist!" he cried hoarsely.

Raistlin turned. Seeing his brother's predicament, he rode

back. He reached out, took hold of his brother's hand. "Do not be afraid, Caramon. I am with you." The two

entered the forest together.

On the seventh day of the seventh month, seven magi were ushered into a large courtyard at the base of the Tower

of High Sorcery.

Four men and three women: Four were human, two elven, and one appeared to be half-human, half-dwarf, a

rather unusual combination for a magic-user. The youngest by almost five years was Raistlin Majere, the only one to

arrive with an escort. The others glanced askance at the young mage, observed his delicate features, his pallor, and

the excessive thinness that made him appear younger than he was.

They wondered why he was here, and why he was permitted to have a family member with him. The elves were

open in their disdain. The half-dwarf suspected the young man of having sneaked in uninvited, though he could not

say how.

The garden courtyard in the Tower of High Sorcery was an eerie place, crisscrossed with corridors of magic. Magi

passed through here regularly, traveling the magic pathways on errands to the tower or on business of their own.

Those standing in the garden could not see the travelers on their hidden pathways, but it seemed to them that they

could feel the breath of their passing.

The older, more experienced magi who frequented the tower grew accustomed to the sudden shifting eddies of

magic that swirled about the courtyard. This being the first occasion any of the novices had visited the tower, they

found the voices that spoke from nothingness, the sudden whiffs of air down the back of the neck, the half-seen flash

of a hand or foot, most disturbing.

The initiates and the single lone warrior stood in the courtyard, waiting for what they hoped would be the

beginning of their lives as one of this elite group of wizards. The initiates tried not to think about the fact that this

might be the last day of their lives.

Caramon jumped, with a clatter of sword and leather armor, and whipped around to stare fearfully behind him.

"Hold still! You are making a fool of yourself, Caramon," Raistlin admonished as they stood waiting in the

courtyard.

"I felt a hand touch my back," Caramon said, pale and sweating.

"Very probably," Raistlin murmured, unperturbed. "Pay it no mind."

"I don't like this place, Raist!" Caramon's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the whispering stillness. "Let's go