Chapter XXI: Pointing the Way
"I have little patience for mountains," Harrian said sulkily as he sat down at the table in the tavern, around which the rest of the party and Melissan was gathering. "Especially when they tend to be the strongholds for individuals like Yaga-Shura. We cannot fight an army ourselves."
"Are there no alternatives? No other bastions where the heart might be hidden?" Jaheira agreed, a little desperately as she pulled up the chair next to Harrian, leaning on the table and fixing Melissan with a look.
The woman shrugged as the other party members pulled up their chairs, forming an effective wall against any passers-by or waitresses who might try to eavesdrop. The sight of Sarevok, fully armoured with a dangerous sword was usually enough to send someone on their way as it was.
"His old home is a possibility. A temple in the Forest of Mir, in one of the more… swampy areas," Melissan suggested uncertainly. She shook her head. "One of Yaga-Shura's old guardians was some witch who was also a priestess of Bhaal. There is, indeed, a good chance she holds some knowledge of the secret of his invulnerability."
"Even if she's not responsible for it, maybe she gave him the basis of the magic he used for it," Imoen mused, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment before her with a large, red quill. "Or might just know of some way to counter it. Lots of mysterious magics around which it can take a… certain hand to figure out."
"And none more capable than you, my wildflower," Haer'Dalis commented quietly, though sincerely and without any particular obsequiousness. "At the very worst, mayhaps she will be aware of some means of entering Yaga-Shura's mountain fortress by a more subtle route than a frontal assault."
"The bard is right. We cannot fight an army single-handedly," Sarevok interjected. "Though would it not be possible to raise the guards here at Saradush and bring them with us when we leave the city? Organise a proper force to assault the fortress in the Marching Mountains?"
The others looked at him, all in varying degrees of disbelief and bemusement, until Melissan shook her head. "We need the guards here. Yes, your endeavour is to break the siege here, but however faster your journey will be with an army, you will have nothing to come back to if you bring the guards with you." There was a certain stiffness to her, a certain tilt in her chin, that made Harrian quite sure arguing would go badly.
Regardless, Sarevok argued. "I thought our endeavour was to kill Yaga-Shura?" He smiled predatorily. "Surely we will be able to save more lives in the long-run if we kill him sooner, regardless of the fate of Saradush."
"Sarevok. Now is not the time." Harrian's voice held a warning note in it as he glowered at the man who called him 'brother', even when he asked him not to.
"My lady, you mentioned a Captain Asrael when you argued with Gromnir in the throne room. Does he have a force of any sort? Who is he? Could he be useful?" Anomen asked slowly, leaning across the table and trying to end the confrontation.
Melissan shifted a little. "Captain Asrael was the captain of the guard here at Saradush, before Gromnir even came. Gromnir elevated him to the senior level of leadership in his army, but the two quarrelled often over defensive strategies. Asrael was not… exiled, exactly, but Gromnir sent him and a sizeable force away from the city as a sort of border patrol… the specifics of these military strategies elude me." Melissan smiled hesitantly and a little sheepishly.
"Is he still in the area?" Jaheira asked.
"Truly, I know not," Melissan confessed. "I know not if he lives or where he might be or what his plans are. If you can find him, he is a man of honour and will presumably do his best to help you once the situation is explained to him. He is bound to Saradush, not any of the Bhaalspawn allegiances."
"A useful man, if we can find him," Harrian said thoughtfully. "This is useful, Melissan. We thank you for your help."
She shook her head. "Do not thank me," the red-haired woman said. "Gromnir's madness brought Yaga-Shura upon us, but I brought him here. This city is my responsibility, and I shall not see it fall."
"But who are you, to care so much for the Bhaalspawn?" Sarevok rumbled, giving her a dark look.
Melissan hesitated again, then glanced down at the table. "My… husband was a Bhaalspawn," she said levelly at last. "Bounty hunters killed him – I later discovered them to be the bounty hunters of Illasera, whom I am glad you have slain, Harrian. I did not intend to end up being such a 'guardian angel', however." She shrugged. "Jerid was plagued his entire life by his taint. I started merely by taking in other innocent Bhaalspawn being persecuted for their blood, an effort which slowly began to develop. Now I find myself with the weight of the pawns in the Bhaalspawn prophecies resting on my shoulders."
Harrian raised an eyebrow. "The pawns?" he repeated dubiously.
Melissan gave him a look. "I do not concern myself with the wellbeing of the strong chosen few such as you, Harrian. I merely wish to see that these people are not murdered themselves, or 'executed' when they have committed no crime. To further that end I do need to see threats eliminated, truly, and Yaga-Shura and his allies are one of them."
"That's a point. You mentioned his allies before." Imoen looked up from her parchment and took a large gulp of her ale. "Who are they?"
"They are known as 'The Five'," Melissan explained falteringly. "Illasera was one, so I suppose that makes them only Four. I know the names of two others – Abazigal and Sendai, though their nature or location are mysteries to me."
"I'll stick them on the list of individuals I'll probably have to kill at some point in the future, then, shall I?" Harrian commented dryly. "But noted. Three more people to worry about when Yaga-Shura's done." He shook his head. "If only I knew where this would end."
"When the attacks stop?" Melissan hazarded a guess. "I know not. But I must depart, now; with Gromnir gone, much of the city is falling into further chaos. They need a strong hand to guide them, now."
"And that is you, is it?" Sarevok commented scathingly.
Melissan looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head slightly. "Nay. But I shall have to suffice until one comes along."
"We thank you for your aid, Melissan. And I'm grateful you haven't baited me with minimal knowledge and a lure to greater things later," Harrian said wryly, giving her a slow nod as he sipped his own beer.
"I needed to establish your intentions. I apologise," Melissan stood slowly. "I am sure I shall see you again soon, Godchild. Good luck on your endeavour." Then she wound her way through the crowds of the tavern and was gone.
"Well, that was interesting," Reynald said musingly as he looked around the table. "At least we'll be getting out of this wretched city. It shall be pleasant to be wandering the lands as before."
"I think we all need it," Jaheira agreed, glancing at Harrian. "Can your pocket plane take us there as it took us here? Otherwise, leaving the city will be hard. I know you taunted Melissan when we first arrived with an ability to come and go as you please, but…"
"No, I don't know if I can. I suggest we try to find out in the morning." Harrian nodded.
"It should be able to. The plane was created to service you in your destiny. That is what the challenges were made for, that is what it took you to Saradush for. If the Forest of Mir is your next step in making your way through the Prophecy, then the Forest of Mir is where your domain shall take you when you prompt it." Sarevok shrugged. "That is, truth be told, all I know of your domain; I was merely placed there to guide you and… I suppose… because I must have my own part to play."
"If we left you to play your own part, you would be leading the entire defences of Saradush away to destroy Yaga-Shura's invulnerability and then wipe out his army as they were distracted butchering the people of the city," Anomen spat.
"Aye, there is a certain fittingness to it all, is there not?" Haer'Dalis commented. "Death and entropy to spare others yet further inevitable pain. An intriguing contrast. You are verily the subject of entropy itself, my hound." He nodded to Sarevok.
Sarevok glowered. "It is what one would call an 'acceptable loss'."
Harrian raised a hand as Anomen looked ready to spit out another angry curse, and stood slowly. "We need more drinks." He fixed Sarevok with a look. "Help me carrying them, brother, for I do not have enough hands to bring seven back to the table without assistance."
Sarevok fell into step behind Harrian without protest as they headed towards the counter, then sighed heavily when the thief turned to face him. "I suggest you keep your own darker intentions to yourself, brother," Harrian started stiffly. "I may have brought you back, but I won't suffer this sort of talk. And especially not that sort of action."
"I am surprised I yet remain at your side, if you loathe what I am so very much," Sarevok said, shaking his head. "It is astonishing you stomach me at all."
"You know no better," Harrian mumbled, turning away and perching on a stool by the counter. "Or, you should know no better. I am giving you what's known as the benefit of the doubt." He fixed Sarevok with a look. "Your actions in the north… killing Gorion, causing the Iron Crisis, were the results of Bhaal's whispering. I have to believe that, otherwise I need to consider that you are 'naturally evil', a concept that does not sit well with me."
"My actions were caused by my desire for godhood, yes. But that desire was a purely mortal one. Surely you feel the same tug, brother," Sarevok said blankly, pulling up another stool and looking at him.
"I don't want to be a god, Sarevok," Harrian said blankly. "They have to worry about too many things all day, and get into huge power struggles, and get busy collecting worshippers… I don't want a quiet life, that's for sure, but I don't want that life. I don't crave power over others. It's too much hassle for me."
Sarevok blinked at him. "You do not intend to take the taint and the prestige you are gaining here and use it to your own advantage? You could rise further than these other pretenders – Yaga-Shura, and this Abazigal and Sendai. You could be a god."
"So you say, Sarevok, but your plans were covered by being slightly insane last year, if you recall," Harrian mumbled.
"Guided by reading of the scriptures. The prophecies at no point directly say 'Bhaal shall return'. People merely assume that it is he they refer to when they say 'The God of Murder shall return', or words to that effect." Sarevok shrugged. "I forget most of the words of the prophecies. But find me a book and I can interpret them better than most."
"I can read a book myself."
"Prophecies are not… cheap pieces of literature. They are living, complicated texts. Interpreting them is serious work. Candlekeep's monks were devoted to studying Alaundo's Prophecies." Sarevok glowered. "You do recall Candlekeep, yes, the place you grew up? Are these words making any sense to you."
Harrian gave him a look. "Regardless of what the prophecies say, the new god won't be me. I'm just trying to make sure as few people die as possible. The realms will survive if a new evil god ascends. They know he'd have enough company up there as it is to not cause too many hiccups."
"You truly do not wish the power for yourself?" Sarevok asked, blinking.
"Truly." Harrian nodded.
"Even with Bhaal whispering promises of glory in your ear?"
"Especially with Bhaal whispering in my ear. He's not my type." Harrian shook his head, and shrugged. "As I said, much of what you did came down to listening to Bhaal. He can be persuasive, and tempting. I have Gorion alone to thank for my success at resisting. You did not have him." Harrian turned and picked up some of the mugs of ale and mead that arrived on the counter. "You have a gift, Sarevok. A second chance, and one free of the whisperings of murder. I suggest you make the most of it."
He stood up. "You listened to Bhaal before, and it brought you death. I understand why you could not resist. You had to listen to him." He turned, and started to make his way back towards the table, but not before making one last comment. "You don't have to any more."