Dark Spirits
"I... I do hope Sir Danno is alright. He is alright... isn't he?"
No Grobnar, of course I'm not alright. Would you be talking about me like this if I was alright? Idiot.
"I am sure he will be well. He has been greatly hurt, but he will heal in time."
Oh, really? And if Elanee left you, I'm sure you'd 'heal in time', wouldn't you? Or would you take the coward's way out, and kill yourself? Hmm? Except you wouldn't even have the guts to do that properly, you'd just go running off to get yourself killed in some brain-dead fight against impossible odds.
"Ah, yes. Clearly all that is needed is a few more days introspection, and then I'm quite certain that our leader will be entirely himself again."
Hells and demons, Sand! Will you just give up on your snide, sniping sarcasm? And your bloody, precious emphases!? Or do I have to come in there and STRANGLE you?
"I fear Sand may be right. He was always... quiet, both as a child and a man. But this withdrawal, this spurning of all company... I sense a great pain and a growing darkness of the spirit in him. I fear he may not be well for a long time to come. If... if ever."
Oh, what a nice little character dissection, you cold blooded, tree-hugging witch! 'A growing darkness of the spirit', eh? What a wonderfully concerned and loyal way of turning everyone against me. "I think he's going mad, but I'm not going to come out and say it, I'll just set your imaginations running wild."
"Oh dear. Do you think I should try singing him some cheery songs? I'm not sure my ballads of lost love would be quite the thing, rather a lot of doom and suicide you know, but I'm sure a rousing tale of... um... well, maybe not that one, too much blood, now I'm sure I had just the thing jotted down somewhere..."
Don't you dare threaten me, Grobnar, don't you dare!
"The lad doesn't need songs! He just needs a few ales inside him!"
Ah, yes, the Ironfist answer to everything you can't fight. I'm amazed you ever managed to crawl out of a tankard long enough to swing a punch.
"Well, I'm hardly surprised that you recommend debauchery, but in his present state I do not believe that drunkenness is the solution to his problems."
And I suppose you have a potion or spell that will help, have you? Something to take away the pain? Something to set the world to rights?
"Huh. He needs to break a few heads, that what it is. Break a few heads and get tumbled by a pretty lass. Or get the nerve to go and find the tiefling, find her and bring her back. And he won't do that sober, I'm thinking."
I... I can't, Khelgar. I can't. She doesn't want me, I can't find her. I can't!
"Khelgar, did you not see the pain between them those last weeks? The hurt? Would you have him prolong that for the both of them?"
"Is he hurtin' less now, Paladin? Is she? Were you hurtin' less when you ran from your troubles in Neverwinter?"
I can't stand this any more.
Danno turned over in bed, and tapped politely on the flimsy wall.
"Do you all think you could raise your voices a bit? I don't think everyone in the taproom can hear you. Some of the old fellows are a bit deaf, you know."
A silence from the other room – then hasty whispering, like naughty children caught out arguing instead of sleeping. Danno supposed it was rather funny. He thought he might never laugh again.
He lay still, not bothering to respond to the light tap on his room's door.
"Danno? May I come in?"
No. Go away Elanee.
A brief, whispered discussion outside his door, then the faint crackle of magic, and a click as his door unlocked.
Huh. Sand's rubbish at that spell. She'd have had it open without a sound.
Elanee came into the room warily, and sat tentatively on the edge of his bed. He turned his head, looked incuriously at her.
Hm. Five months, I'd guess. Near enough. Gods, has it been that long? We should have been back in Neverwinter long ago. Oh well, nearly there. At least she won't be delivering on the road somewhere, and we'll be back before winter. Just.
"Danno, we need to talk." She spoke gently, but firmly.
He closed his eyes wearily. "No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about. Elanee, it's late and I'm tired. We need to set off early tomorrow, and we all need to sleep."
Elanee said nothing, she just sat quietly – waiting. After a while, he opened his eyes again. She was looking at him, very steadily. Very sadly. He stared at her coldly.
"Elanee, I don't want to talk! Is that so hard to understand?"
"No, Danno, I do understand. I understand how painful this is for you. But we... you need to talk! Ever since Neeshka left, you have cut yourself off from us – from everybody. I... we fear..." She hesitated, couldn't help glancing at the rickety little dresser. Then she seemed to gather her courage, and raising her voice slightly, said "We fear for you, for what you are doing to yourself."
She gazed at him earnestly, reaching a hand tentatively out to him. "Please, we only wish to help you. I beg you, do not shut us out."
Danno didn't take her hand. He looked for a while at the dresser, where the silver sword lay. The shards had started grinding against each other, loudly and angrily. It had been doing that far more often lately, even when he wasn't holding it. The sound rose, and shards started darting momentarily away from the sword, cutting little slices from the dresser and the wall beside it. Elanee stiffened, half rose. He heard a heavy creak from the floorboards near the door, and guessed Casavir was braced to rush in.
I mustn't upset her. Not good for the baby.
He carefully pushed all thought, all feeling to one side. Concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly. Gradually the metallic, agitated sound died away. Elanee sank back onto the bed. He could feel her tension, and her breath sounded quick and shallow.
He lay for a few moments, until he was sure he was calm. "Elanee, I really am very tired. Could you go now?"
Slowly, wearily, she pulled herself to her feet and, without another word, left the room.
For a while, he stared vaguely around. He knew every inch of this room. They'd only stopped at the inn that afternoon, but the room was as familiar to him as every other poky little inn room between Baldur's Gate and Neverwinter. A tiny room, stuck in an awkward corner of a tiny building. Newly whitewashed walls, unevenly plastered, paper thin. Rickety wooden furniture, roughly made and splintery, freshly sanded. Bare, uneven floorboards, scrubbed mercilessly until they looked like bleached driftwood. The whole room, the whole inn, seemed to say 'we may be poor and cheap, but by the gods we are clean'.
It had been in a room just like this one that he'd woken from a dream of loss and futile search, to find Neeshka packing.
Of course, it had been over long before that, really. They had still slept together, even made love sometimes. Rarely. But they'd spoken less and less, and when they did talk to each other there was always the fear of yet another row. There had been plenty of those, in cheap, shabby little rooms like these.
"Hells hells hells! I thought we were going back! Y'know, when we crossed the border? But nooo, now we have ta go all the way back to your precious Neverwinter. What's the matter, do you miss licking Nasher's backside?!"
"Neeshka, haven't you been listening?! Torrefin swung the council our way because he wanted to hurt the Cowled Wizards. Without him... it's just too dangerous! We just need to..."
"Run away! Gods, you are such a coward. It's your fault anyway, you had to go running off to help that poor sweet Sarin..."
"What in the nine hells did you think you were doing?"
"I was just checking what was in those boxes! I mean, you're sooo worried about us taking risks now. Wouldn't want to find we were bringing anything nasty into Neverwinter."
"So you get caught by a trap, and now Oredar's dumped us!"
"Hey! That was a really sneaky trap! It's not my fault if..."
"If you'd kept your fingers to yourself and used your brain for a second, and maybe told me what you were planning, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"Well I'm sorry! I... I was just trying to help, Danno."
"Then don't! If you're going to muck it all up, don't try and help!"
"Hells no! We're all sleeping out in a barn, why does she get a room in an inn!?"
"Look, Neeshka, it's not good for Elanee to be sleeping rough, not in her condition..."
"Oh yeah? Well she should'a thought of that before she got 'in her condition'!"
"Neeshka! You're being unreasonable..."
"No! It's my money, if you want special treats for your Little Miss Delicate you pay for it yourself!"
"Stop that!"
"Huh? Uh, gee Danno, sorry. I... I thought you liked..."
"No! I've never liked that, and you know it! You only do it because you know it embarrasses me!"
"Th-that's not true! Danno, don't go. Look, we can..."
"Oh stop whinging."
Oh, they had made up after their fights. A mumbled apology and a nervous, hesitant kiss, maybe a present or two, and everything would be almost alright. Until the next time, and the next time, and the time after that. And with each row, each stupid, petty argument, they became more distant. Less at ease with each other.
In all their arguments, though, they never argued about the worst problem. They never had the argument that went...
"You slept with her!"
"You killed me!"
Danno lay, sleepless, staring at the low ceiling.
Maybe, if we had argued about that, none of the rest would have mattered. Maybe we'd have been able to put things right.
Maybe we'd have split up instantly, cleanly.
Maybe one of us would have died. Permanently.
I don't want to take a sleeping potion again tonight. They're not working as well as they should anyway. Too many, too often.
He heard very soft conversation from the next room, much quieter now. Not whispering, exactly, but too quiet to make out the words. The night wore on, and silence fell.
And still he lay awake, staring at nothing in the soft candlelight.
---
"Knight Captain?"
"Just a moment." Danno carefully completed a symbol on the parchment he was scribing, and looked up. Pale autumn sunlight flooded the inn's yard where he'd set up a desk and chair. Their funds were low again, and they'd had to do a variety of jobs to pay for their night in the inn. It was late morning now, and he was beginning to think that they'd have to spend the rest of the day working, spend another night here, and set off the next day. Again. They could have been back in Neverwinter months ago if they hadn't been spending so much time working at badly paying jobs.
Danno had spent the morning scribing a collection of scrolls for the innkeeper to use or sell. It was dull, mindless, repetitive work, and it rankled how little the innkeeper was paying. Still, every copper counted, especially as they'd have to lay in supplies for the long trek through the now lifeless Mere to the town of Leilen, and maybe further. While this village, Southmere, had escaped almost unscathed as the undead rose in the Mere and marched north to Neverwinter, by all accounts Leilen had been evacuated and effectively razed to the ground. It was being rebuilt, but they might not be able to get supplies before reaching Crossroad Keep.
Every so often as Danno worked he'd look out of the yard and along the village street. Just off the Trade Way, Southmere was a rich little village, proudly boasted a cobbled main street and two inns – this being the cheap one. Neat houses and shops lined the street, a few showing scorched thatch or new doors, and a handful of traders and villagers browsed the street stalls and shops.
This should make me happy. They survived, they rebuilt, life goes on. Why here? Why not in West Harbor? What did these people do to deserve their luck? Why should they be happy and healthy, while everybody...
I mustn't think like this. It's wrong. Stop it, concentrate on scribing, don't think, don't feel.
So he had tried to work steadily, thought of going back into the dim inn and braving the sound of Grobnar entertaining the few patrons - and yet stayed out in the sunlit yard, looking up occasionally and struggling with his black thoughts. Now, to add to his bad mood, Casavir was looming at him, looking as if he was about to announce the end of the world.
Hells, what is it now? Probably some utter disaster, like running out of soap.
"Yes, what is it?"
Casavir paused for a moment, looking down at his gauntlet, fiddling with a perfectly adjusted strap.
"Elanee and I have been considering. We have decided... we have decided that we shall not be travelling further."
Danno said nothing.
Casavir cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We feel that this village is as good a place to settle as any, at least until the child is born. We are on the edge of the Mere, and Elanee will be able to travel easily into it and do what she can to encourage new life to take hold. And our child will have a place of safety in which to be born."
Danno looked back down at the parchment, then carefully started scribing another symbol. Casavir waited, growing increasingly agitated. Finally his frustration proved to much for him. He stepped forward and deliberately spread his hand over the parchment. Danno looked up sharply – and his furious outburst withered on his tongue as he looked into Casavir's eyes.
For the first time since Danno had met him, the smouldering anger that could, in combat, erupt into a tight and controlled blaze of fury, was turned on one of his companions.
But it's not the first time. He killed Qara without hesitation.
"Danno, have you nothing to say? Now, of all times? We have fought side by side, we have trusted our lives to each other! I have done nothing to deserve such coldness from you, and nor has Elanee!"
Danno couldn't help cringing slightly. Casavir paused, then his shoulders slumped sadly, and his voice softened.
"We have dared to stand against utter darkness together, and we have prevailed together. And now, when we must part company, would you do so in silence? I... I would have us part as companions in arms, if not as friends. Do you wish us to part as enemies?"
Danno stood up – and turned away. It was easier, talking to empty air. He could almost pretend he was talking to himself, just repeating the words that gnawed at him, and never let go...
"What do you want me to say, Casavir? Do you want me to smile sweetly? Do you want me to wish you well?
"I've lost everything, don't you understand? I've lost my home, my parents, my friends. I... I've lost her. Neeshka. And that was my fault, no-one to blame except myself. Now I'm losing you, and Elanee, and that's my fault as well, isn't it? What can I say, Casavir? What do you want me to say?
"Do you want me to pretend to be glad for you? Or do you want me to ask you to stay? Do you want me to ask Elanee to live in some graveyard of a stone-cut fortress for the rest of her life? Do you want me to ask Khelgar to abandon his people to stay with me?
"Casavir I can't... I don't... oh for the gods' sake just go! Just go and..."
He stopped.
Oh hells and demons, what have I said? Why can't I... why can't I just grow up? Why do I feel like I'm falling apart the whole time? Doesn't it ever get better?
Behind him Casavir sighed. There was a creak of leather, a soft scrape of armour, a footstep. Casavir's powerful arm went round his shoulders, hugged him briefly. He remembered the bridge in West Harbor, Retta's arm round his shoulders. He remembered sobbing helplessly, Nalia hugging him...
No. Oh please no. Not a one night stand with Casavir, please. Haven't I suffered enough? And Elanee... Elanee! She wouldn't stop at stabbing me, she'd... she'd... Oh gods! What if she joined in!?
---
For the rest of his days, whenever the dark and solitary moods threatened to overwhelm him, Danno would bring out the memory of that day and bask. The memory of himself, laughing wildly, hysterically; of the look of helpless dismay and alarm on Casavir's face; of Grobnar rushing out of the inn, convinced that some demonic horror was slaughtering the villagers and whooping with laughter as it did so.
But best of all, the memory that would brighten the darkest of days at least a little, was the memory of Casavir, that courageous warrior and leader of men, who had stood undaunted before the blackest of evils, routed and retreating in horrified confusion as Danno tried to explain to Grobnar what was so funny.
---
That evening, Danno sat by the fire in the inn's taproom, staring into the flames. His good humour had faded, but he was feeling better than he had. He'd forced himself to eat with the others for the first time in weeks. He thought – he hoped – that they'd approved. They'd certainly done their best to be welcoming. Even so, it had been a gloomy and taciturn occasion. Danno had been somewhat diverted by Grobnar's attempts to ask Elanee how three people could be lovers (and his bemused speculations about the mechanics of the process), but Elanee was too preoccupied and subdued to indulge him.
Not in a mood to risk teasing Casavir either, I suppose. Danno looked at Casavir's tense irritability, and decided he didn't blame her.
Eventually Grobnar took the hint (or simply distracted himself) and drifted onto less tricky topics, such as the correct metre to use for his song 'The Battle of Torrefin's Lair'.
After a while Danno excused himself, and went to stare into the fire. Sand struck up a desultory conversation with a merchant who was also staying at the inn had some unusual books for sale, while Grobnar wandered back to his room to write. Danno sat and thought – or rather, tried to avoid thinking.
Too much thinking, and it never gets me anywhere.
"You won't be finding any answers in there, lad."
He started, and looked over at Khelgar. The dwarf was sitting quietly beside him, observing him thoughtfully.
He's changed. Gods, how he's changed. He isn't the bar-room brawler I met... how long ago? Just over a year? Huh. I forgot my birthday. I must have been... what was I doing that day? Oh. Right. Fighting a red dragon. Or was that the day before? Oh well, close enough...
"And you won't be finding them in my beard either."
"Uh. Sorry Khelgar." He rubbed his eyes, tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "I was just thinking. It's not been so long really, has it?"
"Huh?" Khelgar frowned, puzzled. "What hasn't been long?"
"Since we met, at the... something Inn. Willow Inn? It hasn't been so long, just over a year..."
"Ah, well, seems like the longest year of my life, it does. Never thought I'd see the things I have. Or do what I've done. And now..." he glanced down at the hammer of Ironfist at his side. "Now I'm clan leader. Me! Fate has a strange sense of fun, I'm thinking."
Danno looked back at the fire. A sadistic sense of 'fun'.
"So. What will you be doing now, lad?" There it was again, that shrewd, speculative look. Danno felt very uncomfortable under that steady gaze.
When did it happen? When did he become clever and perceptive? He abruptly remembered a dingy, slovenly temple in Athkatla, and Khelgar's voice...
"I'd be sorry to see you set your feet on the same road he took. Can you not think of another way?"
Maybe he's always been wise – he just didn't know it.
"What do you mean, Khelgar?"
"Seems to me we've all got our plans, all neat and settled on. The Paladin and Druid raise a clutch of nippers on the edge of these marshes, Sand goes back to his shop in the docks, the gnome... well, I reckon he carries on like always. And I go to the... to our stronghold." Now it was Khelgar who was staring into the fire, and whatever he saw it wasn't burning logs.
"To my stronghold." He murmured softly.
Then he glanced up at Danno, and smiled thinly. "Don't reckon I'll be having much time for brawling, eh lad?"
"Um. I suppose not..."
"And what about you, huh? Seems to me like you haven't got a plan."
Danno shifted uneasily. "I don't know. I haven't..." He hesitated, then finally admitted... "I don't want to think about it."
"Huh. I'm thinking you haven't got a choice. Or you must make a choice, I should say."
"I... I don't know what you mean."
Khelgar frowned, impatient. "Lad, you've got to choose! Me, I'm heading east. That's my road, east to our stronghold, to home. Not to Neverwinter. Sand's for Neverwinter. Those two..." glancing over to where Elanee and Casavir were sitting hand in hand, talking quietly, "... stay here. So what do you do, eh? Go north? East? Stay here? Or do you go south?"
Danno went rigid, and for a moment he couldn't breath. He felt as if Khelgar had punched him in the gut.
Stop it. It's just a direction. Why shouldn't I go south? Lots of places, heading south. Towns, cities... people.
Neeshka.
Nalia... No. No, I burnt that bridge. Burnt, broken, and no repairing it.
Khelgar waited for a while, then shook his head and stood up. He turned away, started to stomp off – then turned back, suddenly fierce and bristling.
"You did a grand thing fighting the Githyanki, and the King of Shadows! Inspired me, you did, and I'm not too proud to admit it. When I met you first, I'd not have had the nerve to lift the hammer of Ironfist. But you showed me, you did. I stood in front of that hammer, Keros, Khulmar and all the others watching me, and I thought to meself, 'Well I may be pissing in my boots, but that never stopped Danno, and by Ironfist himself I'll not let it stop me!'
"I thought the tiefling was all wrong for you, I'll own up to it. I thought you'd end up dead, and I feared for you.
"But lad, this is worse than dead! If you'd handed yourself to the shadows, you'd not have been more miserable. Like some ghost you are, wringing your hands over what's gone wrong, and no strength in you to put it right!"
He paused again, waiting for a response that never came. Then, in a softer voice he said "We've all done things we're not proud of lad. I turned my back on my people to chase a dream. The Paladin, he ran from his troubles and tried to get himself killed. The wizard got in deep with those Luskan mages, and I'm thinking there were some bad dealings he won't admit to. And the druid, she helped you kill the only family she ever had."
Danno turned his gaze from the fire to stare at Khelgar, protests fighting for his voice.
It wasn't like that... She stayed true... They attacked us... They fell to shadow...
She... chose not to fall. Chose to fight. To kill...
Khelgar nodded. Moved back and sat down again.
"Ah, didn't think of it like that, did you lad? She lost as much as you, she did. Some of it by her own hand, too." He glanced again towards her and Casavir, quiet now, sitting close, Elanee leaning against Casavir and drowsing. Then he looked back at Danno, bewilderment and disappointment mingled in his expression.
"She's hurting, but she's still alive. Lad, you've as much strength as that lass, I know you have, so why don't you use it? Eh?"
"I don't know! Khelgar, I... I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me." He dropped his face into his hands. "Gods, maybe Elanee's right, maybe I am going mad."
"Huh? Now stop talkin' nonsense. She never said the like..."
"Oh, really? So what do you think she meant by 'a growing darkness of the spirit', eh?" Khelgar opened his mouth to object, but Danno carried on, talking over his protest. "Sounds to me like she thinks I'm going mad. But I don't feel mad, Khelgar! I don't! I just feel... I just feel like it's all too much. Everything's just getting harder and harder, and all the time I just want to cry, or scream, or smash something!
"I wish... Oh gods, hells and demons, I wish you'd left me dead! I've ruined everything and I can't... I can't see my way through, I don't know what to do any more, and I'm tired!
"Oh gods, I'm so tired. Tired of lying awake every damn night, tired of getting up each morning and struggling on, and on, and on through one bloody day after another. Tired of feeling like this. Tired of... tired of being alive."
Khelgar said nothing. And what is there to say? Danno sat, eyes screwed shut, mouth dry, heart pounding. He waited until he could trust his voice not to break.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself." He laughed cynically. "How does that old song go? 'Tired of living, and scared of dying'? Well I'm scared of dying. I'm terrified. I know what happens next... endless fighting or endless torment, and I can't face either.
"So, that's my choice. Not dying. And that's all I can cope with, Khelgar, just not dying. What does it matter which road I take?"
He looked at Khelgar – and to his shock and dismay, met an expression of grim anger mingled with contempt.
"So that's it, is it lad? After all you've done, you give up and prove yourself a coward? It's all about the tiefling lass, isn't it? We can't help you with that, so when you face trouble on yer own, you just curl up in a corner and feel sorry for yerself, eh?
"Well, I'm disappointed in you, I am. The tiefling was a fool to go, but... but that lass never had any sense. But you! To let her run off like that, and weep and wail over it?" He banged his fist on the arm of his chair, jumped to his feet. "You're not the man I thought you were, I see that now. No stomach for a fight, no stomach at all!"
He glared at Danno, then spat in the fire, and stomped off, muttering furiously to himself.
Danno sat, stunned, staring after him. Then anger overtook shame, and he leapt to his feet, caught up with Khelgar in a couple of strides and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"NOW SEE HERE – OOF!"
Despite twisting away from the blow, a reflex learnt from more fights gone bad than he liked to remember, he folded up, winded and clutching his stomach. For a moment spots danced in front of his eyes, and he was left staring helplessly at the floor. Then he dragged himself upright and stared open-mouthed and shocked at Khelgar.
"You..." His voice came out as a strangled croak. "You hit me..."
Casavir had leapt to his feet, almost spilling the sleeping Elanee onto the floor, and hurried over.
"Both of you, be calm..."
"Cas! What...? You nearly..."
"Elanee my dear, I think perhaps we would be best advised to quietly and above all quickly go..."
"Sand, let go of me! I'm no invalid. What is going on..."
"Ach, it was just a little tap. I'm sorry lad, I was a wee bit hasty..."
Danno finally managed to gather his scattered wits – and kicked Khelgar hard between the legs.
---
"Danno, stop flinching!"
Elanee sighed in exasperation, and started dabbing at his cut eyebrow again.
Danno flinched – again. "Ow! That hurts! Look, can't you just heal it?"
She sat back and glared at him. "After the way you behaved tonight, no, I don't believe I shall. And it would be a waste of either spell or potion to treat such a trivial injury." She started dabbing at his brow again, with a great deal more firmness than Danno thought necessary.
"Agh!"
Sand turned from counting out coins to the angry innkeeper, who'd spent the last few minutes keeping up a steady litany of complaint about breakages. "How did our glorious leader hurt his eye anyway? I can scarcely credit that Khelgar struck him there."
Khelgar looked up. He was still grinning like an idiot, in spite of a swollen lip.
"Huh? I never touched the lad's face. Not that I couldn't! Let me tell you, I can throw a tankard harder than the paladin can swing that mace of his. Ah, a tankard's a fine weapon in the right hands. 'The great leveller' I call it. Many's the big man who's found his face at my feet, and learnt what a true master of tavern brawling is! But I wouldn't do that to the lad, it wouldn't be fair on a novice like him."
Elanee gave Khelgar a ferocious stare, then sniffed disdainfully and turned back to Danno, who was still wincing and grumbling. "Oh stop making such a fuss! You have only yourself to blame."
Danno gave her an indignant look. "Elanee, you punched me in the face!"
"Oh my! Did she?" Grobnar quickly turned back a page in his notebook, and started crossing out what he'd just been writing.
"Yes she did! When I was chasing Khelgar round the table!"
"Huh? Lad, have you lost yer mind?" Khelgar scowled good humouredly. "I was chasing you! Would've caught you too, if weren't for those long shanks of yours. That's a sneaky tactic, tryin' to wear me out. You could've had the decency to run away properly!"
Grobnar stopped writing, and looked at them in bewilderment. "I'm sorry, just a trifle confused here. Who was chasing who? It really is rather important, you see. I simply have to get the rhyme right!"
Danno smirked at Khelgar. "I was chasing him! He was so bow-legged, he couldn't chase a zombie with its legs cut off! And I'd have caught him if Elanee hadn't knocked me down!"
"Are you suggesting that I was saved by a slip of an elf lass? Me!? That... that's fighting talk that is!"
Elanee snatched a mug off a table, and banged Khelgar on the head with it. "No! No more fighting!"
"Now see here!" Oh gods, the innkeeper's off again. "I can't be having with any more unruly behaviour masters, mistress, I really can't. I'll lose all my custom! This is a decent place!" Lose his custom? Ha! The only customer he's 'lost' is that old gent who laughed so hard he got dizzy, and Casavir had to help him home. He'll be here every night for months now, boring people with the story.
Khelgar rubbed his head, and chuckled ruefully. "Ah lass, it's all in good fun! And I'll wager it's good practice for you, for when the little lad starts scrapping..."
Elanee winced. "Sylvanus grant that it's a girl."
"...or the little lass." Khelgar shrugged cheerfully, then leant toward Danno and said, in a hoarse stage whisper, "I know some lasses that are as fearsome as any lad!"
"Oh my yes!" Grobnar paused from pacing round a table, and muttering something about 'how many times around...' "Why, only the other day I heard Sir Casavir telling the innkeeper that some woman would be the death of him. She must be a truly terrifying warrior!" He hesitated, and then turned to Elanee, looking quite worried. "Um. Do you think he'll be alright? He wouldn't tell me who it was, although he was talking about ending his days in a gods-forsaken swamp, so I think... Oh, but I'm sure he has some sort of plan, and he has you to help him. Err... doesn't he?"
Elanee quickly wiped the chilly expression from her face, smiled gently, and patted Grobnar's hand reassuringly. "Of course he does." She glanced over to the door as Casavir came back in, shaking the rain off his cloak. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I won't let any other woman hurt him."
Grobnar looked immensely pleased and relieved, while Sand quietly retreated out of harm's way, and Khelgar let out a bark of laughter. Casavir gave Khelgar a menacing look. He'd healed his broken nose, but Danno thought he'd think twice in future about trying to stop a rampaging dwarf by bodily hauling him off his feet – and lifting him high enough to head-butt.
Danno took advantage of Elanee's distraction to escape her tender mercies, and sneaked a healing potion from his pocket. He sighed with relief as the pain in his brow eased, and sat quietly in a corner, watching Elanee make life hard for the startled and bewildered Casavir.
He closed his eyes, listening to their voices. Strange. Even when they argue, they sound so much in love. Of course, it helps that Casavir couldn't... wouldn't lose his temper with her no matter what she said or did. He opened his eyes as Elanee's sharp tones faltered, and smiled wryly to see Casavir looming over her, calm and foreboding. Not that he's a pushover.
He closed his eyes again, leant against the wall, and sighed.
North. I'll go north, to Crossroads Keep. To start with, at any rate. I want to see Bevil again... maybe Daeghun, if he's still there.
Then... then I'll see. I... I could go South. To Athkatla? Maybe... maybe she'd still have me. Even after I chose Neeshka? No-one else would, but she's not like anyone else. She can be very hard, I think... I don't know. I'll think about it.
Maybe elsewhere. Perhaps... she wants to be found? If she doesn't? I could be searching... well, for the rest of my life. I could walk right past her, and never know. She might be in this room right now, and I wouldn't know.
Later. Tomorrow, north. I'll say goodbye to Casavir and Elanee, say goodbye to Khelgar. I have to do it, no matter how it hurts. Say goodbye, say thank you, say sorry.
I owe them all so much, so much more than I can ever repay, and I've done so little even of what I could. I hope they understand. I'm not sure I do.
I think something broke inside me, and it's still broken. When she left? No, before that. Before the King of Shadows, though he split the break wide, and she shattered it entirely.
Maybe in West Harbor. Maybe when demons and undead fought, a blade shattered... a woman died. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I was always broken, just one of those things, a crack waiting for the right pressures to reveal it.
Never mind. It's too much to worry about.
Tomorrow, north. Then I'll think about it.
Later.