Time of the Twins

Standing on the fringes of the crowd was a black-robed figure. He stood alone. Indeed, there was even a wide, empty circle around him. None in the crowd came near him. Many made detours, going out of their way to avoid coming close to him. No one spoke to him, but all were aware of his presence. Those near him, who had been talking animatedly, fell into uncomfortable silence, casting nervous glances his direction.

The man’s robes were a deep black, without ornamentation. No silver thread glittered on his sleeves, no border surrounded the black hood he wore pulled low over his face. He carried no staff, no familiar walked by his side. Let other mages wear runes of warding and protection, let other mages carry staves of power or have animals do their bidding. This man needed none. His power sprang from within—so great, it had spanned the centuries, spanned even planes of existence. It could be felt, it shimmered around him like the heat from the smith’s furnace.

He was tall and well-built, the black robes fell from shoulders that were slender but muscular. His white hands—the only parts of his body that were visible—were strong and delicate and supple. Though so old that few on Krynn could venture even to guess his age, he had the body of one young and strong. Dark rumors told how he used his magic arts to overcome the debilities of age.

And so he stood alone, as if a black sun had been dropped into the courtyard. Not even the glitter of his eyes could be seen within the dark depths of his hood.

“Who’s that?” Tas asked a fellow prisoner conversationally, nodding at the black-robed figure.

“Don’t you know?” the prisoner said nervously, as if reluctant to reply.

“I’m from out of town,” Tas apologized.

“Why, that’s the Dark One—Fistandantilus. You’ve heard of him, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Tas said, glancing at Caramon as much as to say I told you so! “We’ve heard of him.”

4

When Crysania first awakened from the spell Paladine had cast upon her, she was in such a state of bewilderment and confusion that the clerics were greatly concerned, fearing her ordeal had unbalanced her mind.

She spoke of Palanthas, so they assumed she must come from there. But she called continually for the Head of her Order—someone named Elistan. The clerics were familiar with the Heads of all the Orders on Krynn and this Elistan was not known. But she was so insistent that there was, at first, some fear that something might have happened to the current Head in Palanthas. Messengers were hastily dispatched.

Then, too, Crysania spoke of a Temple in Palanthas, where no Temple existed. Finally she talked quite wildly of dragons and the “return of the gods,” which caused those in the room—Quarath and Elsa, head of the Revered Daughters—to look at each other in horror and make the signs of protection against blasphemy. Crysania was given an herbal potion, which calmed her, and eventually she fell asleep. The two stayed with her for long moments after she slept, discussing her case in low voices. Then the Kingpriest entered the room, coming to allay their fears.

“I cast an augury,” said the musical voice, “and was told that Paladine called her to him to protect her from a spell of evil magic that had been used upon her. I don’t believe any of us find that difficult to doubt.”

Quarath and Elsa shook their head, exchanging knowing glances. The Kingpriest’s hatred of magic-users was well known.

“She has been with Paladine, therefore, living in that wondrous realm which we seek to recreate upon this soil. Undoubtedly, while there, she was given knowledge of the future. She speaks of a beautiful Temple being built in Palanthas. Have we not plans to build such a Temple? She talks of this Elistan, who is probably some cleric destined to rule there.”

“But... dragons, return of the gods?” murmured Elsa.

“As to the dragons,” the Kingpriest said in a voice radiating warmth and amusement, “that is probably some tale of her childhood that haunted her in her illness, or perhaps had something to do with the spell cast upon her by the magic-user.” His voice became stern. “It is said, you know, that the wizards have the power to make people see that which does not exist. As for her talk of the ‘return of the gods’...”

The Kingpriest was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, it was with a hushed and breathless quality. “You two, my closest advisors, know of the dream in my heart. You know that someday—and that day is fast approaching—I will go to the gods and demand their help to fight the evil that is still present among us. On that day, Paladine himself will heed my prayers. He will come to stand at my side, and together we will battle the darkness until it is forever vanquished! This is what she has foreseen! This is what she means by the ‘return of the gods!’”

Light filled the room, Elsa whispered a prayer, and even Quarath lowered his eyes.

“Let her sleep,” said the Kingpriest. “She will be better by morning. I will mention her in my prayers to Paladine.”