Authors: Margaret Weis
War of the Twins
Footsteps in the sand, leading me on …
Looking up, I see the scaffold, the hooded figure with its head on the block, the hooded figure of the executioner, the sharp blade of the axe glinting in the burning sun
.
The axe falls, the victim’s severed head rolls on the wooded platform, the hood comes off—
“My head!” Raistlin whispered feverishly, twisting his thin hands together in anguish.
The executioner, laughing, removes his hood, revealing—
“My face!” Rastlin murmured, his fear spreading through his body like a malign growth, making him sweat and chill by turns. Clutching at his head, he tried to banish the evil visions that haunted his dreams continually, night after night, and lingered to disturb his waking hours as well, turning all he ate or drank to ashes in his mouth.
But they would not depart. Master of Past and Present!” Raistlin laughed hollowly—bitter, mocking laughter. “I am Master of nothing! All this power, and I am trapped! Trapped! Following in
his
footsteps, knowing that every second that passes has
passed before!
I see people I’ve never seen, yet I know them! I hear the echo of my own words before I speak them! This face! His hands pressed against his cheeks. This face!
His
face! Not mine! Not mine! Who am I? I am my own executioner!”
by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
DRAGONLANCE CHRONICLES
Dragons of Autumn Twilight
Dragons of Winter Night
Dragons of Spring Dawning
DRAGONLANCE LEGENDS
Time of the Twins
War of the Twins
Test of the Twins
The Second Generation
Dragons of Summer Flame
THE WAR OF SOULS
Dragons of a Fallen Sun
Dragons of a Lost Star
DRAGONLANCE
®
LEGENDS
Volume Two
WAR OF THE TWINS
©1986 TSR, Inc.
©2000 Wizards of the Coast LLC
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC.
D
RAGONLANCE
, D&D, Wizards of the Coast, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.
All Wizards of the Coast characters and their distinctive likenesses are property of Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Cover art by Matt Stawicki
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00-190765
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5442-1
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v3.1_r1
This book is dedicated to you who are sharing our journeys through Krynn. Thank you, reader, for walking this path with us.
—Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman
The River Flows On …T
he dark waters of time swirled about the archmage’s black robes, carrying him and those with him forward through the years.
The sky rained fire, the mountain fell upon the city of Istar, plunging it down, down into the depths of the ground. The sea waters, taking mercy on the terrible destruction, rushed in to fill the void. The great Temple, where the Kingpriest was still waiting for the gods to grant him his demands, vanished from the face of the world. Even those sea elves who ventured into the newly-created Blood Sea of Istar looked in wonder at the place where the Temple had stood. There was nothing there now but a deep black pit. The sea water within was so dark and chill that even these elves, born and bred and living beneath the water, dared not swim near it.
But there were many on Ansalon who envied the inhabitants of Istar. For them at least, death had come swiftly.
For those who survived the immediate destruction on Ansalon, death came slowly, in hideous aspect—starvation, disease, murder …
War.
HAPTER
1
hoarse, bellowing yell of fear and horror shattered Crysania’s sleep. So sudden and awful was the yell and so deep her sleep that, for a moment, she could not even think what had wakened her. Terrified and confused, she stared around, trying to understand where she was, trying to discover what had frightened her so that she could scarcely breathe.
She was lying on a damp, hard floor. Her body shook convulsively from the chill that penetrated her bones; her teeth chattered from the cold. Holding her breath, she sought to hear something or see something. But the darkness around was thick and impenetrable, the silence was intense.
She let go her breath and tried to draw another, but the darkness seemed to be stealing it away. Panic gripped her. Desperately she tried to structure the darkness, to people it with shapes and forms. But none came to her mind. There was only the darkness and it had no dimension. It was eternal.…
Then she heard the yell again and recognized it as what had awakened her. And, though she came near gasping in
relief at the sound of another human voice, the fear she heard in that yell echoed in her soul.