Where I come from, I'm a story teller. It's a completely different world – one that only the followers of Gond are likely to find to their liking. Come to think of it, I'm not sure how much they'd like it. I could tell you about my life on that world, but it's really mostly irrelevant to what you want to know, with one minor exception. On my world, I was a follower of one of the gods who did not cross the void to join the people of Mulhorand. It kind of surprises me, really, since He was – is? I'm not quite sure what the appropriate usage is here – one of the more popular of the gods in that family.
Look, if I'm going to get this all said before your scribe falls over, I'm going to need something to drink. Just get me a few potions of clarity. They're pretty watery, but they'll have to do until you people let me make a proper pot of coffee. I don't know, a half dozen, maybe? Thanks.
So anyway, on my world, I worshiped a god from my world's equivalent of the Mulhorandi family, whose portfolio was Death, Protection, Travel, Dreams, Trickery, and the Moon. Among those of us who followed Him, He was seen as the patron of guardians, somewhat like Torm is here in Neverwinter.
Ah...that's better. I still don't see how you people can imagine anything this weak and watery has magical powers, but it'll do in a pinch. So, where was I? Oh, yes....
As I was saying, one of my god's domains was Dreams. And this all started with a Dream. I hate Dreams, I really do. I was walking down a road that led through a bunch of fertile fields, when I saw a trail that led off the road, through one of the fields, toward the West. Now, being the naturally curious type I am, I took the trail. All around me, the field was ripe, almost ready for harvest. I mean, I'm no expert on farming, but even to my eyes it was obvious that it was time to bring in the reapers. As I followed the trail through the field, I began to hear the sounds of combat. Now, I'd already figured out I was dreaming, but I didn't yet know I was Dreaming, if you know what I mean. Say, do you have another pipe handy? I haven't had a good smoke since I arrived here, and...thanks. What's the..Fadaidh? Ha! That's a good one. When's the last time you were in Scotland? Oy. Yeah, yeah, I know, sore wa himitsu desu. Ah...Why's everyone turning green? It doesn't smell that bad. Kind of reminds me of a good Oriental blend.
So anyway, I followed the sounds of combat, and when I stepped out of the field, into the Western Desert, I realized I was Dreaming, not just dreaming. Did I mention how much I hate Dreaming? There He was, in jackal form, harrying some creature that looked like a humanoid lizard. Whatever this lizard was – yeah, I know now it was Morag, but at the time, it was just some humanoid lizard – it was trying to blight all the fields in view. It had already succeeded in blighting some of them, and they were withering as I watched. Worse yet, where its blight touched, even the soil was dead. So dead that the creatures that ventured onto it fell dead as soon as they touched the blighted soil, and when they died, they crumbled to dust, too. Even their spirits crumbled. And with every farm that fell, and every creature that fell, the lizard thing seemed to be getting stronger.
I honestly didn't know what to do. Everything I loved was crumbling around me, and my Father was all alone, fighting this creature that seemed to be the cause of it. So, I jumped on its back and tried to pull it off balance. I wasn't very successful, but then again, I didn't have to be. As soon as I distracted it, He went for its throat. It didn't fall down dead when he tore its throat out, though. Instead, it turned to mist, like some kind of vampire, and then vanished. I scraped up my hands and knees when I hit the ground after falling through it.
Father told me to look back at the field I had come through, and see how close it was to harvesting. Now, I'd already figured out that it was just waiting for the reapers to arrived, but when He told me that I was that field, I just sort of sat back and stared at him in shock. I mean, in my old life, my health was horrible, but I hadn't thought it was that horrible.
Anubis sat on his haunches, waiting, while Fred stared off into the distance for nearly a full minute. With a heavy sigh, Fred turned his head and refocused his gaze.
"So...what about Lada?" Fred asked. "Will she be ok?"
"Do you see that field?" Anubis asked, pointing with his nose at a field that was still growing, but not near its harvest time. "Because you distracted Morag, Lada is safe."
"Thank goodness," Fred breathed, then peered curiously at Anubis. "Morag, you say? So that creature was something singularly dangerous?"
"Morag is singularly dangerous," Anubis said. "If she's not stopped, her power will spread from the world she currently threatens. Think of her as the ultimate evil overlord, but with the power to make her mad plans come true."
"Not exactly reassuring, Father. Since I'm going to die anyway, why tell me?"
"Because you are going to die." Anubis snorted, amused, and waited to see how long it took.
"Because I am going to die...," Fred mused, then pinched his eyes together. "This is just like Demon Hunter's Journal, isn't it? Except I have to go to another world. How are you going to get me there?"
"I'm not," Anubis said. "It took some doing, but I was able to make contact with a god on the world you're going to. He should be here any moment."
"Can you tell me anything about that world, before he gets here?" Fred asked.
"Other than that their versions of us make me glad they don't have a copy of me there?" Anubis replied. "All the gods on that world answer to a sort of an over-god, who doesn't have anything to do with humans at all. I didn't get much opportunity to learn anything more."
"That's probably best," said a new arrival, a man in shining silver armor, with raven-black hair and an air about him of unshakable bravery and rightness. "It's not your world, and I have no doubt the rules are entirely different. So this is your child?"
"Yes," Anubis said. "This is my son, Fred MacManus. I haven't yet asked him to choose."
"Father...," Fred drawled, rolling his eyes. "You tell me that Morag is already threatening one world, if she isn't stopped, she's going to threaten this world, and then you act as if I have a choice? Have you been getting into Bes's beer? Like I asked before, how are you going to get me there?"
"I'll have you know, I can be plenty silly without having to drink any of Bes's stash," Anubis humphed. Then he nosed Fred in the chest, and licked his face. "You are my son, and I couldn't be more proud of you. I'm entrusting you to Kelemvor. Think of him as a foster father."
Fred wrapped his arms around Anubis and hugged him close. "Thank you, Father. I love you. I guess we shouldn't drag this out, huh?" He pushed himself to his feet and turned to look at Kelemvor. "I'm ready whenever you are."
Kelemvor looked Fred over, then nodded to Anubis. "I see why you're so proud of him. I'll watch over him as if he were one of my own."
"Thank you," Anubis said, as he shifted into his humanoid form to return Fred's hug. "He's giving up his place in the West for the sake of all of us."
Kelemvor extended his hand to Fred. "Shall we go, then? Once we're on Toril, I can resurrect you."
"Uh...," Fred said as he reached out to take the offered hand, "I was kind of hoping for something a little better. See, the reason I'm dead so young is because I was born with a number of health problems that would make me kind of useless to you if all you did was resurrect me. My guess is that what's killing me on this world is that I stopped breathing while in this Dream. I do that a lot. I even have a machine that breathes for me while I sleep."
"I...see...," Kelemvor said slowly. "Well then, I'll have to do something about that. So this is why being newly-dead doesn't bother you?"
"Nah," Fred said, shrugging. "Death is no big deal. It's just a door to another form of existence, ne? A journey you don't return from the same as you left. I've never been afraid of death. My greatest fear, since I was a child, was always of being so broken I'd wish to die, and be unable."
"Amazing," Kelemvor mused. "I believe we have much to discuss."
So, that's why I'm here, and wearing Kelemvor's symbol. I mean, I knew right away I was going to follow Him, even before Father told me to think of him as my foster father. Eh? Oh, no, not literally. You see, on the world I came from, those of my faith saw our gods as being like parents, in a spiritual sense. In some cases, like with Father, the relationship was more than merely spiritual. To me, He was more of a father than my birth father had ever even tried to be. I will always love him the way I should have been able to love my birth father, but couldn't.I'm pretty sure there must have been a conspiracy between Kelemvor and the Triad, given how I was treated when I got here. He was true to his word, and when he resurrected me, he not only removed every health problem I had ever had in my old life, he gave me a body that was thirty years younger than my old one had been. You know how weird it is to wake up in the morning and feel peach fuzz where you used to have a beard? No, probably not, yeah.
Anyway, I'm sure I must have driven the poor instructors at the Academy crazy. Sure, it took me a little extra time to get through, but by the time I was done, I had a basic grounding in everything I wanted to know. Actually, I know I drove Herban nuts. He reminded me of my drill instructor from when I went through military basic training back on my old world. And I did the same thing with him that I did with that old drill instructor – just smiled and did what I needed to, regardless of how he tried to break me down and squeeze me into his militia mold. Ketta, on the other hand, was rather fun. Not only did she have a lot of useful things to teach, she didn't have any objections to sitting around with a student and sharing whatever juicy tidbits of gossip she'd picked up. I think the things I learned from her about Neverwinter and Faerun in general did more to help me fully transition to this world than anything anyone else did. Elynwyd wasn't a bad teacher, but there's something about trying to learn from a priest of Tyr that just didn't work for me. I don't think it worked too well for him, either. I asked too many questions, instead of just taking things on his authority.
Huh? Oh, no, Kelemvor didn't even try to steer me toward being a priest. He wasn't quite sure how I was going to fit into this world, but He gave me plenty of room to figure it out for myself. Good thing He did. It made it easier to cope when He ...changed. He's still the god I instinctively trusted when Father introduced us, but...well, now no one can use Him as an excuse for doing utterly stupid stuff.
So, the first time I met Aribeth was Graduation Day – the day of the massacre. Honestly, my first impression of her was that she had a quarterstaff firmly embedded in her butt. No, seriously. But then again, that's been my impression of most of Tyr's paladins. She just happened to be the first one I'd met outside of a couple fellow students. The first hint I had she might actually be a person, and not just a stuffed suit of armor, was when I asked her what she thought of Desther. Whew! Her opinion could have peeled paint off a wall. It's just too bad she didn't trust her instincts from the start. Who knows how much of what happened afterwards could have been avoided.
"So no, seriously," Fred asked, putting on his best 'I'm innocent! Really!' face, "why do you put up with Desther?"
"You want to know the honest truth?" Aribeth asked, with a heavy sigh, while looking down and gripping the hilt of her sword until her knuckles were white. "I do it because Fenthick says he is to be trusted. Even if I did not trust Fenthick because of my love for him, he is a ranking priest of Tyr, and thus is my superior."
"So, if you were to follow your instincts...?"
"I would...." Aribeth looked up, her eyes flaring with more spirit than Fred had seen from her since the first time he'd asked her what she thought of Desther. Seeing the expression on Fred's face, she slammed her fist against her thigh and growled, "Damn it, Fred! Don't ask that of me! You know I am obligated to obey my order!"
"I'm sorry," Fred said gently, letting the mask of innocence fall. "I just...there's something about him...Hell, there's something about all the Helmites...that just puts my teeth on edge. I don't know what it is, but everything about them grates at me like a badly-done death metal song."
"Like a...what?" Aribeth shook her head. "Sometimes, I wonder about you, Fred. The things you say are so...strange."
"That's me," Fred laughed. "Strange, through and through. Anyway, I'll make a deal with you, ok? On top of the work I'm already doing, I'll keep my eyes open for anything that might prove, one way or another, just how trustworthy those Helmites are, ok?"
"All right." Aribeth nodded slowly as she considered the suggestion. "Just...don't say anything about it, including to me, until you have something solid."
"Works for me. I like you too much to get you worked up like this again." Fred smiled warmly and offered his hand. When Aribeth took it, he squeezed it firmly, taking care not to linger too long, then looked around briefly before calling out, "Linu! I'm ready to head out again. Are you finished resupplying?"
"Just about," Linu called back, her head popping up from where she was poking through the supplies in the temple store. "I need to get a few more bottles of water for blessing, then I'll be ready to go."
"We have holy water," Aribeth called, then whispered to Fred, "Why are you traveling with her? Didn't you hear what she did to the high priest?"
"Sure did," Fred whispered back. "She told me before I recruited her. I like that kind of honesty in someone. Besides, I've been known to be a klutz myself, at times."
"Oh, I saw your holy water," Linu called back, "but I wouldn't want to be rude and use water dedicated to Tyr when I'm not one of His servants. Besides, it's just a matter of a few minutes under the moon to bless water in Sehanine's name."
"I'm not sure whether to think of you as brave, or insane," Aribeth whispered, smiling. Hearing Linu, she nodded, then called, "I think I understand, Linu. Thank you for being so considerate."
Linu babbled incoherently, backed away from the table, and tripped over an acolyte. As she and the acolyte vanished behind the table, the sound of broken glass drifted up, followed moments later by the smell of burning fabric. While priests and acolytes ran about, frantically attempting to douse the flames with water, Fred let out a soft groan, opened his pack and dug around in it, then scattered a bag of white powder over the burning Linu. With a muffled 'whump,' the fire went out. He turned his back on the carnage and quietly closed up his pack, while the priests applied healing spells to Linu and the injured acolyte.
"What was that?" Aribeth asked, indicating the empty bag from which the white powder had come. "I've never seen anything short of a spell put out magical fire before."
"This?" Fred shrugged. "Baking soda. Never leave home without it."
"Baking soda?" Aribeth asked, an eyebrow arching as if in disbelief.
"Yup," Fred said. "Good for everything from baking cakes to brushing teeth. And, as you just saw, it makes a great fire extinguisher. Problem is, if you're not a dwarf, it's damned awful expensive. Luckily, I made friends with a dwarf who lets me buy small quantities from him. Looks like I'll have to visit him before we head back to the Peninsula, too."
"You buy it from a dwarf?" Aribeth shook her head. "Dwarves aren't exactly known for their baking."
"But they are known for their mining," Fred laughed.
What? You don't know what baking soda is, either? Elminster? Huh. Figures. Arm & Hammer, even. For the rest of you, baking soda is known by the dwarves as soda ash. Mostly, they use it to make glass, neutralize acids, put out fires, descale cauldrons...lots of industrial uses, mostly. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Linu had fallen on her potions bag and smashed them all, and the resulting fire when the potions mixed together had nearly killed her and an acolyte. So, after the temple priests healed them, we replaced the lost potions – and the other things we'd lost in the fire – and decided to wait until the next day to go back. At least, by then, we knew a back way into the prison. It made getting down to where the intellect devourer was just a little bit simpler. The only thing I regret from that fight was that we couldn't wake up all the guards it had dominated. They didn't deserve to die the way they did.Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking about those guards, and saying a prayer for their souls. And I was thinking about how their situation was reminiscent of Aribeth's. Isn't that why you all want me to ramble on like this? So you can understand why I believe Aribeth is innocent – believe it enough to be here in the Dales, with her in tow? Speaking of which.... Elminster, can you tell me that you're certain she's not dreaming, or suffering in any other way, while you have her in stasis like that? OK. Thank you. I appreciate that.
So anyway, I noticed, while I was running around Neverwinter hunting those damned creatures, and having evidence of a conspiracy drop into my lap every so often....Yes, I do mean it that way. I mean, those cultists were such idiots that they actually carried written letters from their superiors with them when they attempted to assassinate me. So when I killed them, I had evidence that there was a conspiracy dedicated to making the Plague worse, even if it hadn't created it, and that there was someone high up in the conspiracy – high enough to be sending out cultists as assassins, anyway – who was privy to our attempts to resolve it. Naturally, given my dislike for him and my gut feeling of being unable to trust him, I suspected Desther of being involved somehow. Unfortunately, none of the evidence that I did get pointed conclusively at him. The only thing I could point at was his continual rejection of the evidence I did gather, his continual insistence that we give up all attempts to find the components for the cure, and his constant whispering in Fenthick's ears, which I'm sure wore down any feeble resistance Fenthick might have put up in the first place. Sometimes I wonder what you would have seen if you'd tried to detect charms on the leadership of Neverwinter. Then again, given how powerful Morag was, she probably could have blocked any attempt like that, from anyone less powerful than a Chosen.
So, by the time we got all the components of the cure together, it was pretty clear to me – and, from what she told me later, to Aribeth – that the one person who best fit the mold of our hidden conspirator was Desther. Unfortunately, since none of the letters I'd retrieved gave any names, and since I had already given them to Fenthick, she had no way to use them to convince anyone in authority that there was a problem. Still, it did mean that when Desther threw off his mask and stole the cure, she wasn't caught by surprise the way Fenthick and Nasher were. OK, fine, Lord Nasher. Not that he did anything to convince me he deserves the title. Unfortunately, since Desther's false Helmites had killed the priests who were helping in the ritual, Aribeth was the only one there able to keep his portal from collapsing after he jumped through it. One of these days, I'm going to have to get her to teach me that trick. Or maybe not. She was unconscious for nearly two days after I got back, so she wasn't able to speak in Fenthick's support at his so-called 'trial' – not, I suspect, that she'd have been allowed to do so even if she had been awake.
"Aribeth?" Fred called, standing in the door to her quarters. From the doorway, her chambers looked remarkably bare. In fact, he saw all of three things that looked even vaguely personal: a charcoal sketch of Aribeth and Fenthick at an outdoor café, tacked up on the wall near the door; a stuffed stag with a silly expression, laying on the floor near a chest; and an old, dried, woven crown of flowers, sitting on the window ledge.
"Go away!" Aribeth screamed from her sleeping area. "Go away, go away, goawaygoawaygoaway!"
"Ah, shit," Fred muttered, and did the exact opposite of what Aribeth had demanded. He sat on the edge of the bed, where Aribeth was curled up around her pillow, facing away from him as she lay and sobbed broken-heartedly. After a minute, he placed a hand on her arm and softly said, "I'm not going to let you go, Aribeth. I don't abandon my friends like that."
"But you have to!" Aribeth sobbed. "If you don't, you'll die, too!"
"And this is a problem...exactly how?" Fred shot back with a smile. He regretted it a moment later, as Aribeth turned on him and began beating on his chest in a wild, frantic flailing of fists.
"You'll die, too!" Aribeth wailed. "I can't lose you, too! How could he? Why did he do it? Why?"
Not knowing what else to do, Fred wrapped his arms around Aribeth and held her until she fell into a fitful, emotionally drained sleep. When he attempted to slip away, she clutched him with a death grip. Rather than wake her, he sighed softly and tried to find a comfortable position in which to wait until she woke. It wasn't long before he, too, fell asleep.
Fred Dreamed....
Neverwinter was burning around him. All the
friends he had made among the city – the dwarven smith from whom he
bought his soda ash, the innkeeper who had been forced to close his
sidewalk café when the Plague got too bad, the bookseller who always
seemed to have just one more volume he hadn't seen before – all of
them, and more besides, were dead, slaughtered by an invading army.
Fred did not know the army, but it used giants as siege engines,
undead as shock troops, and above them all was Aribeth, laughing the
laugh of a stereotypical Evil Overlord. Fred fought his way through
the streets, searching for Aribeth, following the sounds of the
laughter. As he searched, he became aware of an unseen presence –
one that seemed to be amused by his search; one that taunted him with
every step he took.
"She is mine now, foolish warmling. You would do well to surrender and pray that she grants you mercy."
"You don't know me very well, whoever you are," Fred snarled. As if rent asunder by his anger, the image of the city parted, and he saw Aribeth, standing amid the flames, looking around herself as if lost and bewildered. "I never surrender. I'm what you call bull-headed. I may lose, but I always go down fighting. Especially when it comes to my friends. Especially...."
Fred saw the look of hopelessness in Aribeth's eyes and felt his heart breaking. He ran to her side, sword in hand, just a moment too late to disarm her – a moment too late to stop her from plunging her own sword into her breast. He caught her body as she fell, and knelt, holding her in his arms, as he screamed, "NO!"
"Fred? Fred?" Fred woke to the sensation of Aribeth shaking him. He slowly focused on her face, saw the worry in her eyes, and attempted a weak smile.
"I'm...I'm ok...I think," Fred said softly. "You?"
"I...I don't think I shall ever be 'ok' again," Aribeth whispered. Fred pushed himself up into a sitting position, then offered her his hands. She looked from his hands to his eyes, then back again, and said softly, "I can't, Fred. I...it's too soon, hurts too much."
"You...huh?" Fred asked, confused. "You can't let a friend share your pain? That's not right. What kind of crap do they teach you, anyway?"
"Oh," Aribeth whispered, her cheeks reddening as she looked down, then leaned against him. "I'm sorry. I thought....it's not important."
"Hey," Fred said softly, while squeezing her gently, "if it bothers you, it's important. Don't ever put yourself down like that. I could get cranky."
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Aribeth said, smiling weakly.
"Of course not," Fred said, returning the smile. "I might tell certain noblemen what I really think of them, and that could lead to your favorite paladin being exiled from Neverwinter."
For a moment, Aribeth's eyes flashed from sudden anger, to sadness, to fear, before she forced down her emotions and said, in a tone that Fred would have taken for teasing if he hadn't seen the emotions in her eyes, "Oh, I don't know. It's not as if...." She trailed off, then whispered, "How could he? Why?"
"How could he?" Fred asked, momentarily confused. "Oh! Let's see....Desther could because he was an evil fuck....Fenthick could because.....wait...that doesn't make sense. What rank priest was he?"
"High enough that he could act on Lord Nasher's behalf, but not high enough to be assigned a temple of his own. Why?"
"Can anyone rise that high in the ranks as a priest, and still be as naïve as he appeared to be?"
"Naïve?" Aribeth asked. "What do you mean?"
"When I found him in Helm's Hold," Fred said, oblivious to the way her knuckles were whitening with the intensity of her grip on the sheets, "he repeatedly insisted that it all had to be a mistake, that all he had to do was find Desther and everything would be ok. He actually still believed that Desther was one of the good guys, and that all the murders at Helm's Hold, all the deaths at the creation of the cure, even Desther's little trick of stealing the cure and fleeing through that portal, was just a matter of the rest of us not understanding that Desther's intentions were purely for our best interests. Now, I know Fenthick was not an evil fuck like Desther. Hell, he was one of the most pure-hearted people I have ever met. That means that either he was too naïve to be a priest, he was insane, or someone was messing with his mind. Given the dream I just had, I vote for mind control." Fred frowned and hissed angrily, "Hell, I voted for mind control from the start, but I'm just an adventurer. I can't possibly understand the greater implications of things. I got your 'greater implications' right here."
"So," Aribeth asked softly, "You told Lord Nasher that you believed Fenthick had been...mind controlled?"
"In no uncertain terms," Fred said. "Loudly. Repeatedly. Until he had one of the temple priests gag and bind me so I couldn't interrupt his 'trial'. I swear, if it weren't for people I know and love here, I'd tell Nasher to take his city and cram it up the same orifice his head is so firmly planted in."
"Cram...it....up...." Aribeth began to giggle. "You have...a way...with words." She kissed his cheek gently and whispered, "Thank you. You can't imagine how much you've helped."
Look, do you all mind if we take a break? My throat's raw, I'm exhausted, and I need to check on Aribeth.All right, let me put it another way. The fact that you have Aribeth in stasis is the only thing keeping me here. I am going to check on her, and there is not a power on Toril to stop me. You can either accept that gracefully, or you can contemplate what it would be like for a paladin to start looking at you the way he looks at the undead. Because, as far as I'm concerned, if you come between me and her, you're no better.
Fred stopped inside the entrance to the Shadowdale dungeon and watched, curious, as three guards, on their knees, scrubbed at the stones and bench around Aribeth. One guard, who was not a part of the cleaning crew, saw him standing in the doorway and scrambled to greet him.
"Sorry, sir. Don't worry, sir. We'll have everything cleaned up right away, sir. Please tell Elminster nobody meant nothing by it. Honest!"
Fred looked into the cell Aribeth sat in, frozen in time, and nodded slowly as he considered what could have set the guards to cleaning like that. He turned to the guard and smiled, showing lots of teeth.
"Tell me...do you see the symbol worked into my armor?"
"Uh...yes, sir?"
"Do you recognize whose symbol it is?"
"Uh...Kelemvor's, sir?"
"That's right. Kelemvor's. Do you know why this is important to you?"
"Uh...no, sir?"
"I'll give you a hint. The lady in that cell is my beloved. And I am Kelemvor's Champion."
The guard swallowed. Hard. Fred smiled at him, once again, showing lots of teeth.
"You might want to tell your friends, if you take my meaning."
The guard let out a faint squeak and scurried across the dungeon to whisper to the other guards. Fred watched them and quietly waited, having already settled on the largest of the bunch – a half-orc – as the one most likely to be a problem. Sure enough, the one he'd guessed stomped across the dungeon and stopped in front of him, close enough that Fred could smell what he'd had for lunch on his breath. Fred waited, while the guard stared down at him, fuming. After a minute, the guard spoke.
"You actually love that...that...betrayer?" The guard demanded.
Fred looked up at the guard thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "With all my heart."
"But you're a paladin! How can you love something like that without falling?"
"Well now," Fred answered, smiling, "you might want to consider the implications of that question, wouldn't you say? If my god does not punish me for my love for Aribeth, what does that say about her?"
"But, everyone knows she's a betrayer!" The guard looked as if trying to comprehend what Fred had said was giving him a headache.
"And how is it that 'everyone knows' that?" Fred asked trying hard to contain his enjoyment of the torment he was putting these guards through.
"Eh...the news from Neverwinter is all full of it," another guard – this one, human – said. "Lord Nasher ordered her executed for her crimes. He also ordered the deaths of anyone who assisted her in escaping his justice."
This was the part Fred had been worried about. The half-orc made a grab for him, while the other guards drew their swords. Fred muttered a soft curse and swung his shield around, but kept his sword in its sheath, across his back. The half-orc got a grip on Fred's arm, and began pulling him closer. Fred swung his shield, edge-first, against the half-orc's arm. The half-orc let out a yelp and lost his grip, giving Fred the chance he needed to shift into the clear space in the middle of the room.
With a yell, the guards charged. Fred caught the first one's sword on his shield, and the room was filled with a flash of light as that guard flew several feet backwards and fell to the floor. The other guards stopped their attack for a moment, then the half-orc charged, screaming a battle cry, his hands gripping one of the largest axes Fred had ever seen.
"This is going to hurt," Fred thought, as he prepared to block the axe.
Just inches from contact with the shield, the axe – as well as everything else in the room – stopped. A moment later, Elminster walked among the combatants, followed by Azalar Falconhand and two of his personal guard.
"Using magic in a place such as this is bound to get attention, if you take my meaning," Elminster said. "Now, why would one of ye do something so foolish?"
It was quickly apparent that the paralysis did not extend to voices, as the guards all stumbled over each other in spewing accusations against Fred. Knowing he wouldn't even be heard over them, Fred simply waited. After a minute or two of the guards' accusations, their tales growing ever wilder with each telling, Elminster cut them off with a sharp jerk of his hand. Then he looked at Fred, his gaze seeming to bore into him like a drill. When Fred seemed to be uninclined to speak, Elminster finally said, "Well?"
"I'm afraid this was my fault," Fred said. "I told them that Aribeth is my beloved, and one of them remembered that Nasher not only ordered her death, but also the deaths of any accomplices she might have. Since they couldn't harm her, I guess they were hoping for the consolation prize."
"And the magic?"
"That would be my shield. One of them got a good solid hit, and the shield knocked him back across the room." Fred attempted to shrug, forgetting that his body was frozen in place.
Elminster turned to Falconhand and nodded. "He alone speaks the truth." He rapped his staff on the floor, and a globe appeared in mid-air, replaying the events of the last few minutes.
After watching the replay, Falconhand frowned at Fred. "Teasing guards, no matter how justified, is never good practice."
"It would have been rude to kill them," Fred said. "Besides, it looked as if the magic around Aribeth was punishing them for throwing filth at her. Honestly, I hoped that a little healthy fear would ensure that there was no repeat of what I saw when I arrived."
"It would have been rude...," Falconhand said slowly, staring at Fred as if he'd sprouted another head.
"Well, yeah," Fred said. "I mean, what would you do if you caught some random thug throwing dung on your wife?"
"I'd run him through!" Falconhand exclaimed, not noticing the guards blanching behind him.
"I think he's made his point," Elminster said "And ye should be thankful he didn't want to be ...rude."
"But why 'rude'?" Falconhand asked.
"When we arrived, you could have simply executed us," Fred said. "We would have gone down fighting, of course, and taken a number of your soldiers with us, but in the end, we would have died. You chose not to do that. Therefore, I owe you the courtesy of doing my best to keep the peace, regardless of provocations from your guards, soldiers, or whoever. Simply drawing my sword and eliminating the problem would not be showing you the same courtesy you showed us. It seems to me, that would be rude."
"That's an interesting line of reasoning," Falconhand said, "but I think I'll be grateful you think that way." He turned to the elder of his personal guard, and said, "Make sure every single person in the Dale knows that Lord Nasher's orders of execution for these two are void. From this moment forward, Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande and Lord Fred MacManus are citizens of Shadowdale."
"Thank you," Fred said softly. "We're tired...we've been running for almost three years, and you are the first people we've met who actually wanted to know what happened."
"And we still do," Falconhand said. "I'll expect to see you and Lady Aribeth tomorrow, to continue your story. Elminster, would you?"
"Aye," Elminster said. A quick slash of his hand freed Aribeth from her stasis. She looked around, blinking with confusion, until she saw Fred, still frozen in position, across the dungeon.
"Fred?" Aribeth called out, rising to her feet and crossing the dungeon to his side. Elminster humphed and snapped his fingers, releasing Fred and the guards. No sooner was he free, than they were in each other's arms.
"It's ok, beloved," Fred said softly. "Lord Falconhand has just made us citizens of Shadowdale."
Aribeth slipped out of Fred's arms, turned to face Falconhand, and curtseyed to him. "Thank you, my lord. You can not imagine how much this means to us."
"I hope to," Falconhand said, smiling warmly. "I have already told Lord Fred that I expect to see both of you tomorrow, so he can continue his story."
The guards attempted to slip quietly out of the dungeon, only to freeze in place at a glare from one of Falconhand's guards. Falconhand looked at them and let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I have to deal with this now. Why don't you two go use one of the guest chambers for now? Mmm...Thorvald, you can handle getting them settled in, yes? Consider yourselves my guests until you find a place of your own."
One of Falconhand's personal guards nodded to him, then moved to join Aribeth and Fred. Finding a suitable guest suite for the couple took only a few minutes, and the two were soon alone, with a table full of food in front of them.
"Thank goodness Thorvald remembered we hadn't eaten," Aribeth said as she cut slices of cheese to go with the bread Fred was cutting.
"I'll say," Fred agreed. "I was on the verge of going out to get us some fresh mutton, but I doubt that would have made a good impression."
"You hate mutton!" Aribeth laughed. She leaned against him and absently cut an apple into wedges, while Fred put the cheese she had sliced onto the bread he had sliced. "So, what did you do to convince Lord Falconhand to make us citizens of Shadowdale?"
"Hell if I know," Fred said, while absently arranging the bread and cheese on the plate in front of them. "All I was trying to do was make him and Elminster understand why you aren't the villain Nasher wants you to be."
"And the story he mentioned?" Aribeth reached out and took one of the bread and cheese slices, knocking the others out of line as she did. She giggled softly as Fred immediately began re-sorting them into neat rows.
"Oh," Fred said, with a shrug. "I was telling them the story of the Plague, and how we ended it. I'd gotten as far as that first time I ever told you that Nasher could take his city and cram it up his ass."
"Oh," Aribeth said softly. She put her bread down, huddled against Fred, and whispered, "Hold me? Please?"
"Always, beloved," Fred whispered, as he drew her into his lap and cradled her in his arms. "Always."