Disclaimer: Anybody with a recognizable name doesn't belong to me.
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Josidiah Starym hesitated when he saw the swirling symbols on the mirror door. The journal he and his remaining compatriots had found detailed five different insignias that would appear when someone approached. They vary according to the person or so says the the journal, the elf reminded himself.
He touched the mirror door and reminded himself for the umpteenth time that this was their last option to gain any clue as to the whereabouts of the lost Warblade. The swirling stilled and settled on a blue circle containing a crescent moon on the top with a wand spouting sparks underneath it. Upon closer examination, Josidiah could make out a sword underneath and crossed under the wand in a blue just a shade darker than the background field. "Hey, Narinro," he called to one of his companions, "What does the book say about this one?"
The slim moon elf thumbed through the old leatherbound journal delicately before finally saying, "It isn't one that the old lorekeeper ever saw in focus. He did seem to see that one and a few others in the gobbledegook though."
"Guess I'll get to find out what's on the other side of this one then," Josidiah quipped with false lightness. Damn. It had to be one of the few symbols we don't have any information for the ancient diviner or seer it denotes. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door.
The elf found himself in what looked like a simply furnished kitchen, complete with a woodstove and an icebox. A soft breeze blew in through an open window, ruffling the spread on a well worn wooden table set with two delicate wine glasses and bringing with it the soft smell of meadow heather. He looked around for the divining spirit that was supposed to report to this particular insignia.
It did not take Josidiah long to find the diviner kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, clad in pale grey tunic and trousers. Jet black skin, short white hair?! A Drow?!?! he thought in shock.
"I am not dhaerow," The diviner said tiredly as he continued to hunt for something. "I never forswore the Seldarine."
"You can read minds?" Josidiah asked.
"You gave a rather loud gasp," the dark elf informed him. "I have not been so isolated from the material plane to not realize that views regarding my skin tone have changed from what I once knew. I am Sophon."
"Josidiah." Fumbling about for something intelligent to say, Josidiah continued, "What is this place?"
"In the most technical sense, it is a pocket plane that resembles my parents' kitchen," Sophon said in a mild voice. He emerged from his search of the cabinet with a bottle of dark liquid. "Aha! Glad I remembered where it was." The spirit walked over to the table, sat down and uncorked the bottle. "Join me for a drink?"
Confused, the bladesinger did so. Sophon filled both wine glasses with a dark burgundy wine. Josidiah sniffed at it carefully for anything amiss. Only a rich scent of wine, orange blossoms and something a little spicy greeted his nose. He sipped at it once and then took a deeper drink in appreciation. "This is really good."
"The best vintage my family ever made," Sophon smiled. "We thought that Angharradh had visited us sometime that year and kissed all the grapes while we were not looking."
"I believe it," the bladesinger agreed. After a few minutes of companionable silence enjoying the wine, Sophon refilled the glasses. Josidiah asked, "My companions could not find anything on the sigil used to denote you. Why is that?"
"Unless I misremember, the symbol used for me in this place represents the college of magic I taught at millenea ago," Sophon looked very tired again. "It was mostly destroyed. I still have obligations to the place."
"That would explain it..." Josidiah began, but the spirit cut him off.
"The other part of this equation is that while diviners tend to be a pessimistic bunch, I am the one who gets to deliver really bad predictions," the dark elf looked at the bladesinger with apology written across his face and dark grey eyes. "I suppose that when this door was made, they thought that if anyone could find hope in anything, no matter how bleak, it would be a mage who saw the Dark Disaster coming towards him."
The bladesinger digested that for a moment. "I'm not going to like your predictions am I?"
"Probably not," Sophon gently swirled his wine in the glass. "At least you are getting to taste the best batch of wine since some genius figured out that putting grape juice in a barrel with some yeast for a few years resulted in a little buzz."
Josidiah nodded and took another sip. "So..."
"So there are two main ways this can branch," the spirit told him. "You can give up the quest for this elfblade..."
The bladesinger shook his head emphatically. I can't give up on Aravae.
Sophon sighed heavily, "I suppose I should not have even bothered to ask. If you continue the quest for the elfblade, you will eventually succeed, but lose everything you've ever cared about. You will die with no hope."
Josidiah rocked back and gulped his fine wine. I succeed but lose everything? Even hope?
The spirit reached forwards and grabbed the bladesinger's arm with a surprisingly solid grip. "There's more. I can see a black tide sweeping over a city of white stone unopposed if you do not gain an elfblade."
An elfblade? Josidiah wondered. "What happens if I do get one by some miracle?"
"It is hard to say..." Sophon hedged. "I see bright flashes against the tide. Some of them are very strong. They don't stop it... but I can see a stream of light trickling away from the dark. There is no such stream otherwise."
Josidiah sat and let his mind tumble over the diviner's pronouncement. No hope either way...
"Josidiah." Sophon said quietly. He kept his hand over the bladesinger's forearm. "You have to understand something about hope. When one is without hope themselves, it is frequently because they gave it to someone else who needed it more."
"You have some experience of this then," The bladesinger could not keep the bitterness fully from his voice and the words came out harsher than he intended. He regretted them the moment they came out.
Fortunately, the spirit did not take offense. "I do. I died without hope because I dropped it into a reservoir with the rest of my circle. I go back on occasion to renew it with whatever I have."
"Hope renews," Josidiah repeated.
"It does," Sophon gave a half smile. "But still, you are not going to have an easy time of it however you decide. Take your time."
The bladesinger sipped at the wine and thought. Maybe I'll at least have a little time with Aravae... should I ask? Probably not. I wonder what Sophon means by "Tide of darkness"? He sighed internally. Damn, there's so much I want to ask about that, but I'm sure he's going to be evasive about it. Heh, I'm not even sure I want to know exactly what that entails if I'm supposed to stand against it and lose. No light escaping if I don't continue... Well, someone should have hope even if I don't.
"So where do I go to find the elfblade?" The sun elf asked with a resolution he did not feel. As long as some of that hope goes to Aravae...
"My ability to scry out exact locations is somewhat defunct, but you need to follow this sigil..." The dark elf sketched a pattern in the air using a soft blue glowing line. Josidiah looked hard at it to make sure he memorized all the loops and curlicues in the right places. Sophon sketched a different symbol in red and continued, "When you start noticing this sign..."He pointed at the red sign. "You will be nearing your goal."
Josidiah nodded. For Aravae. "Where do I start?"
"A trader in a city of gates," The dark elf sipped at his wine.
"Gates to where?"
"Everywhere."
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Josidiah came to and saw three of his companions' faces hovering over him. "Are you all right?" asked Narinro.
The bladesinger squinted up at them. "Why am I on my back?"
"You hit the symbol, there was a big flash of light and we've spent the past half hour or so trying to wake you up," Baethesie told him in a brisk manner. The cleric carefully tucked her crescent pendant back into her leather jerkin and stepped back to give Josidiah some room to sit up.
"Any thing happen on your end of Dreamland?" Narinro asked hopefully.
Keep no hope for myself... "We need to find a city of gates to everywhere..." Josidiah trailed off. "Baethesie, do you have some paper and ink?" When the priestess found the items in her pack, he sketched out the sigils Sophon had shown him. "We need to hunt down these symbols too. Supposedly they will lead us to the Warblade."
"After all this, you finally found a clue," Narinro grinned. "Well, we can start looking for cities with lots of portals. I'll start getting the rest of these yahoos ready to go."
Josidiah heaved a sigh. Baethesie turned to regard him. "What else happened?" she asked.
"I got one of the more pessimistic seers," he replied mildly. They probably don't need to know about Sophon's tide of darkness. "Nice fellow otherwise."
"Well, then get moving, silly!" she chuckled, "No need to keep your Aravae waiting a moment longer than she has to!"
Josidiah laughed back and got up off the chamber's floor. I will find that Warblade and make sure the hope I don't have goes to Aravae. And I will see if I can't turn that trickle of light fleeing the dark into a river, just to brighten a pessimistic diviner's afterlife.
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Author's note: No this isn't a completed fic. It's barely an idea at all. More like brainstorming.
Anyway, Josidiah Starym is my favorite character of RAS's. Since there seems to be a rather large gaping void of any material on him and his hunt for the Warblade and no sign of anything official ever coming to fill up said void, I thought I would put forth a tiny ficlet if just to give my fangirl squee over him.