YOU MUST PREVENT GAWAIN FROM OFFERING HIS SWORD TO THE KNIGHT!
"Stay here," he told Earwig firmly, placing his hand on the kender's shoulder. "You promise?"
"I promise," said Earwig, impressed by Caramon's pale and solemn face.
"Good." Turning, Caramon continued down the corridor and came up in back of the knight.
"What's happening?" Earwig writhed with frustration. "I can't see a thing from here. But I promised. I know! He didn't mean me to say HERE, in this one spot. He just meant me to stay here — in the keep!" Happily, the kender crept forward, Caramon's dagger (which he had appropriated) in his hand.
"Oh, my!" breathed Earwig. "Caramon, can you see what I see?"
Caramon could. On one side of the hall, their bodies encased in shining armor, their hands grasping swords, stood a troop of knights. On the other side stood an army of wizards, their robes fluttering around them as if stirred by a hot wind. The knights and the wizards had turned their faces toward the strangers who had entered, and Caramon saw in horror that each one of them was a rotting corpse.
A knight materialized in front of his troops. This knight, too, was dead. The marks of his numerous wounds could be seen plainly on his body. Fear swept over Caramon, and he shrank back against the wall, but the knight paid no attention either to him or the transfixed kender standing by his side. The fixed and staring eyes of the corpse looked straight at Gawain.
"Fellow knight, I call upon you, by the Oath and the Measure, to come to my aid against my enemy."
The dead knight gestured and there appeared, standing some distance from him, a wizard clad in red robes that were torn and stained black with blood. The wizard, too, was dead and had, it seemed from his wounds, died most horribly.
Earwig started forward. "I'll fight on your side if you'll teach me how to cast spells!"
Caramon, catching hold of the kender by the scruff of his neck, lifted him off his feet and tossed him backward. Slamming into the wall, the kender slid down to the floor where he spent an entertaining few moments attempting to breathe. Caramon reached out a shaking hand.
"Gawain, let's get out of — "
The knight thrust Caramon's hand aside and, kneeling on one knee, started to lay his sword at the knight's feet. "I will come to your aid, Sir Knight!"
"Caramon, stop him!" The hissing whisper slid over stone and through shadow. "Stop him or we ourselves are doomed!"
"No!" said the dead knight, his fiery eyes seeming to see Caramon for the first time. "Join my fight! Or are you a coward?"
"Coward!" Caramon glowered. "No man dares call me — "
"Listen to me, my brother!" Raistlin commanded. "For my sake, if for no other or I will be lost, too!"
Caramon cast a fearful look at the dead wizard, saw the mage's empty eyes fixed on Raistlin. The dead knight was leaning down to lift Gawain's sword. Lurching forward on stiff legs, Caramon kicked the weapon with his foot and sent it spinning across the stone floor.
The dead knight howled in rage. Gawain jumped up and ran to retrieve his weapon. Caramon, with a desperate lunge, managed to grab hold of the knight by the shoulders. Gawain whirled around and struck at him with his bare hands. The legion of dead knights clattered their swords against their shields, the wizards raised their hollow voices in a cheer that grew louder when Raistlin entered the room.
"What an interesting experience," said Earwig, feeling to see if any ribs were cracked. Finding himself in one piece, he rose to his feet and looked to see what was going on. "My goodness, someone's lost a sword. I'll just go pick it up."
"Wizard of the Red Robes!" The dead were shouting at Raistlin. "Join us in our fight!"
Caramon caught a glimpse of his brother's face from the comer of his eye. Tense and excited, Raistlin was staring at the wizards, a fierce, eager light in his golden eyes.
"Raist! No!" Caramon lost his hold on Gawain.
The knight clouted him on the jaw, sending the big warrior to the floor, and bounded after the sword, only to find Earwig clutching it tightly, a look of radiant joy on his face that began to fade as the knight approached.
"Oh, no," said the kender firmly, clutching the sword to his bosom. "Finders keepers. You obviously didn't want this anymore."
"Raist! Don't listen to them!" Caramon staggered to his feet. TOO LATE, he thought. His brother was walking toward the dead wizard, who was extending a bony hand for the glowing staff.
The chill fingers were nearly touching it when Raistlin suddenly turned the staff horizontally and held it out before him. The crystal's light flared, the dead wizard sprang back from the frail barrier as though it had scalded him.
"I will not join your fight, for it is an eternal fight!" Raistlin raised his voice above the clamoring. "A fight that can never be won."
At this, the dead ceased their calling. A brooding silence descended in the hall. Gawain ceased to threaten the kender and turned around. Earwig, suddenly losing interest in the sword, let it fall to the floor and hopped forward to see what was going on. Caramon rubbed his aching jaw and watched warily, ready to leap to his brother's defense.
Leaning on his staff, whose crystal seemed to shine more brightly in the chill darkness, Raistlin walked forward until he stood in the center of the hall. He looked first at the knight — the rotting, decaying face beneath a battered helm, a bony hand clutching a rusting sword. The young mage turned his golden-eyed gaze to the wizard — red robes, torn and slashed by sword thrusts, covering a body that had for centuries been denied the peace of death.
Then Raistlin, lifting his head, stared up into the darkness. "I would talk with the maiden," he called.
The figure of a young woman materialized out of the night and came to stand before the mage. She was fairhaired and pretty, with an oval face, rich brown hair, and blue eyes that were bright and spirited. So lovely was she, and so warm and seemingly alive, that it took some moments before Caramon realized she was long-since dead.
"YOU are the one who called down the curse, are you not?" asked Raistlin.
"Yes," the maiden answered in a voice cold as the end of the world. "Which side do you choose, mage? Here stands pride" — she gestured toward the knight — "and here stands pride" — she gestured toward the mage. "Which will you choose? Not that it much matters."
"I fight for neither," said Raistlin. "I do not choose pride. I choose," he paused, then said gently, "I choose love."
Darkness crashed down upon them with the weight and force of an avalanche, quenching even the magical light of the staff.
"Wow!" came the awed voice of the kender.
Caramon blinked and peered around, trying to see through the blackness, which was thick and impenetrable as solid stone. The ghostly armies were gone.
"Raistlin?" he called, panicked.
"I am here, my brother. Hush. Keep silent."
Feeling a hand grasp his shoulder, Caramon reached out and touched a warm human arm.
"Gawain?" he whispered.
"Yes," said the knight in strained tones. "What is happening? I don't trust that mage! He'll get us killed."
"So far it seems to me he's done a good job of keeping us alive," said Caramon grimly. "Look!"
"SHIRAK," said Raistlin and the crystal's light beamed brightly. Standing in front of Raistlin, illuminated by his staff, was the young woman.
"You have broken the curse, young mage," said the spirit. "Is there anything you would ask of me before I go to my long-awaited rest?"
"Tell us your story," said Raistlin. "According to the legend, the mage carried you off by force."
"Of course, that is what they have said, who never bothered to seek the truth!" said the spirit scornfully. "And their words were fuel to the fire of my curse. The truth is that the mage and I loved each other. My father, a Knight of Solamnia, forbade me to marry a wizard. He betrothed me to another knight, one whom I did not love. The mage and I ran off together. I left of my own free will to be with the man I loved. The knight followed us and we fled to this place, knowing that it had long been abandoned. The mage and I could have escaped, but he said that, for his honor, he must turn and fight. For his honor," she repeated bitterly. Her blue eyes stared into the shadows of the hall as though she could still see what had transpired there so long before. "Within these walls, he challenged the knight to battle and they fought — one with his sword, the other with his magic. They fought, for their honor!