Ch. 21…A Life of Service

"Why does that betrayer yet live?" Keldorn asked, as Saemon Havarian gated away, leaving yet another fine mess for us to clean up. I don't think the mercenaries he stirred up against us even believed his lies in the first place. They were spoiling for a fight, and we gave them one. They were dead now.

"He lives because Keeta keeps letting him go," Jaheira said acidly.

"Hey, come on now, that's hardly fair," I said.

"You have a soft spot for a rogue," she said. "You always have."

"That's a pretty sweeping statement."

"How many times has Havarian betrayed us now? Yet still you smile when you see him. Just as you smiled upon Haer'Dalis, and Coran as well. They were both scoundrels and you knew it. They both walked off at very awkward times, with their pockets full of our gold and treasure, and you can count yourself lucky not to have been seduced—ahem. And then, there was Yoshimo."

"I felt sorry for Yoshimo," I said. "He made one error of judgment and he threw away his life, his honor, everything. It could have happened to any of us."

"Don't be foolish, Keeta. Yoshimo was no innocent victim. He pretended to be our friend, and all along, he was Irenicus' spy," Jaheira said. "He delivered us to the creature that killed my husband and tortured you and Imoen until—" She took a breath. Neither of us wanted to relive those days. "And still you tried to save him, after all he had done."

"He was under a geas, Jaheira. He had no choice."

"He had made a bargain, Keeta," she said. "He gave himself up to Irenicus of his own free will. No, worse, he sold himself to Irenicus. How can you pity a man who will sell his own soul for gold?"

"I'm not sure that is true, Jaheira. I think Irenicus was powerful enough to force the geas on him. We don't all have your strength of will. Besides, anyone can be manipulated into giving themselves up—with the right leverage."

"Nonsense," Jaheira said, and I let the argument drop. Besides, I saw Sarevok's eyes upon me and this was not a subject I cared to have probed.

We had canvassed Amkethran for information on either Sendai or Abazigal and had come up with nothing. Melissan had at least known their names and the fact that they were Bhaalspawn. The mercenaries and townsfolk here had nothing to add. The common soldiers we talked to knew only that they had been hired by the monastery because 'these were troubled times', and none of their leaders were willing to talk to us. 'See Balthazar' was their universal response, and they smirked as they made it. Finally we gave up and returned to the pocket plane.

"Do you think Balthazar would tell us anything else if we went back to the monastery?" Imoen asked. She rolled her eyes at my expression. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, but I just had to ask."

"I don't know what Melissan was thinking when she sent us to him in the first place," I said. "What is he, anyway?" I asked Keldorn. "Is he even human? I felt something really strange when he looked at me. Is he an aasimar maybe?"

"Did you feel Balthazar had celestial origins?" Keldorn asked. "I don't believe so. However, it is said that the greatest of monks move somewhere outside of humanity. What did you sense?"

"He laid me bare with his gaze," I said. "I don't know how else to describe it. I felt no emotion from him. He just opened me up. And yet—"

"What is it, Keeta?" Keldorn asked.

"He caught the Slayer's attention." Talking of the Slayer, especially to Keldorn, made me feel a flush of shame.

"Did he try to call the Slayer?" Sarevok asked.

"No," I said. "I think it was the other way around. The Slayer wanted to call him. If that makes any sense."

We all digested that a moment.

"Could he be a Bhaalspawn?" Imoen asked. I shrugged.

"He did not feel like any Bhaalspawn I have ever met," Sarevok said. That was one thing we all agreed on.

"You lead a hard life with no reward for the risks you take," Sarevok said. "Why?"

"I assume you mean my life as a paladin? Indeed it is a difficult path, full of strife, and there is little enough peace to be found," Keldorn said. "I would not agree with you on the lack of reward, however."

The two men sat at one of the small tables in the common room, with a pitcher of ale between them. I eavesdropped shamelessly. If they wanted privacy, they should have moved. Cespenar and I sat on the floor in the corner, with tools and bits and pieces of strapping and hardware around us. I had never been happy with Sarevok's armor and I was determined to rework it. Cespenar was quite helpful at this sort of work. The imp had a fertile imagination and eons of experience. His tiny hands could fit where mine would not. He also chattered incessantly but I had learned to let the words flow over me. I hardly ever felt the urge to strangle him anymore.

"I assume you speak of spiritual rewards," Sarevok said. "Yet with your skills, you could have made a name for yourself, Keldorn. You could find more lucrative employment. You could have armies under your command. Or you could find a post that would keep you close to your family, if that is your wish. Why have you chosen to live like this?"

Keldorn laughed.

"You've had a wealth of experiences, Sarevok, and sometimes I forget that you are but a young man yet." I saw Sarevok stiffen slightly, and Keldorn saw it as well. He held up his hand and smiled. "Nay, take no offense," he said. His voice was calming. Keldorn always treated others with respect, whether they were friend or foe. It was one of the things I loved about him.

"At my age, the whole world seems young sometimes. What I meant to say was that, in time, you may learn that we do not always choose the life we lead. Or perhaps I should say that we seldom anticipate the consequences of our choices. The gods have their plans for us, and they can lead us to strange places indeed."

"Do you say we have no choice in the path we must follow?"

"There is always a choice," Keldorn said thoughtfully. "I don't mean to imply that the gods compel us to follow a certain direction. They do not. The gods ask much of us, at times, but we have free will. We can deny the gods, if we choose."

"But you chose the life of a paladin."

"Aye. I chose a life of service. I was an ardent youth and I held romantic ideals of the life of a paladin. From an early age, I was determined to dedicate my life to the protection of the good and the destruction of that which opposed it. Torm accepted me into his service. I suppose I relished the thought of the sacrifices that would be required of me, in the way of ardent youth everywhere. As I grow older, the sacrifices required have become weightier, or so it seems. Yet the gods give me the strength to bear them."

"Is this the path the gods planned for you?"

"An interesting question," Keldorn said. "Torm has given me the skills and the strength I need to serve in my role. If I had chosen another path, would my god still have supported me? Or would another god have claimed my service? I do not know." There was a pause as he refilled their mugs.

"There are those whom the gods approach directly," Keldorn continued. "I know of men who became paladins because their god appeared to them in a dream or vision. It was different for me. I was led to this life by the desire in my heart, not by the words of my god. I chose this life, but my god approved my choice. I think we all are called to fulfill our purpose in our own unique ways."

"I suppose, then, that the gods did not approve my choice of a path in life. That is why I failed."

"Perhaps the gods have another purpose for you. It would certainly seem you were not meant to take up the mantle of your dead father. You are truly fortunate that his curse has been lifted from you."

"A curse. Is that how you see it?"

"Aye. To be born a Bhaalspawn is a curse indeed. Bhaal's dark blood twists the lives of his children. Surely you have seen this? Think upon the others you have met. Keeta bears it better than most, but she has suffered because of this curse. I am certain that she would choose to be free of it if she could."

"Yet it is a source of great power. Look at how powerful she has become."

"There are other sources of power. I would suggest that Keeta's strength is not derived from Bhaal, and in fact, exists in opposition to his taint. You may judge this for yourself. Bhaal's taint is a power that serves Bhaal. Not Keeta. Not you. You attempted to turn Bhaal's power to your own use, and you failed. You died. All of Bhaal's children are betrayed in the end. Is that not obvious by now? The prophecies you set such store by say this, do they not?"

Keldorn leaned forward, his eyes intent upon Sarevok.

"Not many are given the chance to make a second choice. A better choice. You have been blessed, Sarevok."

"Blessed," Sarevok said bitterly. "What god would bless me?"

"Perhaps you should ask," Keldorn said gently. There was a long pause. The men drank their ale. "You do realize," the paladin said, "That you will not be able to compel Keeta to follow the path you wish for her."

"Yes," Sarevok said at last. "I have come to realize that." He looked over at me, sitting cross-legged like a tailor. It was a thoughtful look.

I was glad to see the tension relaxed between the Sarevok and Keldorn. Sometimes I think men have an easier time moving past their differences than women do. How Keldorn would react if he knew I was sleeping with Sarevok, I did not know. Would he forgive us?

The worst nightmares I've ever had, I knew they were dreams but I couldn't wake from them. This was like that. Always though, in my dreams, I'm myself. Well, unless I'm the Slayer. Still me, though, if a horrible monstrous me. But this time I was someone else.

I strode through an ancient hall. A temple? A palace? Under the dust and unidentified debris, the floor was marble. Large pillars supported a high stone ceiling. There were statues and ornately carved lamps, dark now. The only light came from the torches carried by the warriors at my side. I didn't know this place; I didn't know these men. But I looked at the shield I carried, the gauntlets I wore and the mace I wielded—these I knew very well indeed. Anomen's gear was as familiar to me as my own.

My first thought was joy: he lives!

But I felt my—his—heart pounding. And I saw the shadows pour out of the walls, out of every dark place in that dark hall. There was a cry behind me—my head turned without my volition—and I realized I was riding like a passenger in Anomen's body, able to see what he could see but unable to move or act. Shadows surrounded us and as I watched, another man fell, overwhelmed by a tide of darkness—darkness with eyes, darkness with teeth.

"We strike in Helm's name!" Anomen cried. Light flared around us. Some of the wraiths burned to nothingness but others slid away to hide behind the pillars. Anomen ran to the side of one of the fallen and again he called on Helm, this time to heal. The man crawled to his feet and took up his sword with trembling hands. His torch had gone out.

"There are too many, Sir Anomen!" cried a gray haired man with staring eyes.

"Helm will give us the strength to fight on," Anomen said.

"Their numbers are too great," another said. "And ours too few. We must fall back."

"Nay," said Anomen. "Have faith, Brother Odren."

"Curse this darkness," Odren said. "Pol, have you the wardstone?"

"I have it," the gray haired man said.

"Give it to me," Odren told him. He took a small round stone from the older man. "We must—oh gods!"

Another wave of darkness seeped from the deepest shadows. Someone grunted in pain. Another torch fell and was extinguished. The shadows grew greater still. I saw Pol's white and terrified face as the shadows flowed over him. He sank to the floor. Anomen took quick steps to reach him and buried his mace in the shadows. The mace glowed and the darkness fell away from his blessed weapon.

"They target the light," Odren yelled. He threw his torch away and it clattered on the filthy floor. "We must run for the gate."

"We must stand and fight!" Anomen said. But he was speaking to Odren's back. "Would you leave me to fight this evil alone?"

"Come to the gate," Odren called.

Anomen bent to check on the fallen man. In that moment of distraction, the shadows struck. I felt icy hands reach through his armor. Cold, so cold. And the darkness grew.

"No!" I cried but I had no voice and my scream was only in my head. The darkness grew, it covered our eyes, I could not see. "NO!"

"Helm!" Anomen cried. "Give me the strength to do your work!"

And at the same moment, I screamed, "Lathander! Save him!"

And a blinding light, brighter than a hundred suns, flashed over us in a silent golden wave.

I fell out of bed and hit the floor with a heavy thud. "Anomen! Anomen!" But I was awake and he wasn't here. The golden light still filled my eyes. I blinked and tears of pain flowed but they could not wash away the burning light. I could not see.

"What is it?" Urgent hands gripped my shoulders. Sarevok. I turned my face to see him but the brightness did not diminish. "Your eyes! I see the sun in your eyes!"

"It was real!" I shivered and reached for him. He pulled me to my feet. I sat on the bed.

"What was real?"

"My dream! It was real. Anomen is in terrible danger."

"You dreamt of Anomen? Slow down and tell me what happened."

"He was in some ancient palace, and the shadows—they overwhelmed him." I jumped up. "Help me get dressed! The warriors were going to leave him there! We have to go. Now!"

Sarevok took my hands and pressed me back to the bed.

"What has happened to your eyes?"

"I can't see! The light—it was so bright. I think it must have been Lathander. Or maybe Helm. Anomen called on Him. We have to help!"

"Keeta, be calm."

"The shadows were everywhere. He was so cold."

"Keeta, it was a dream."

"It was real! I could feel it. Don't you believe me?"

"I believe it was real," he said. "I see the evidence in your eyes. But what can you do now?"

"We have to help him."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No." I groped the air, found Sarevok's knee. I squeezed it. "The portal will take us."

"Will it?"

"It has to!"

Sarevok sighed. "If Helm answered Anomen's call, is he not safe now?"

I could have screamed with frustration. "I don't know! I woke up too soon. I have to see for myself!"

"You cannot see anything now, can you?"

"This blindness will pass."

Sarevok sighed again. "When it passes, we will try the portal, if that is your wish."

But the blindness didn't pass.

Jaheira couldn't cure me. Keldorn couldn't dispel the light that still glowed in my eyes. Imoen suggested I call up the Slayer form and see if that would help. I think she was kidding. I was frustrated to the point of trying anything.

"It's been over a day," I told Sarevok. "We have to go."

"What use can you be, like this?"

"I don't know." I paced until I banged into the table in my room. "Damn it! You'll just have to be my eyes."

"This is ill advised."

"Well, I'm not looking for advice. I'm looking for help."

I decided my leather armor would be good enough, since I couldn't see to fight.

"What weapons do you want?" Sarevok asked. I think he was being sarcastic.

"I don't need weapons," I said, testy. "Well. Give me my dagger. If anything gets that close I guess I can stab it by feel." He placed the sheath in my hand and helped me fumble it onto my belt. "And don't keep sighing," I said. "I can still hear, you know."

"I know you can hear but do you listen?"

I could navigate the pocket plane pretty well even without my eyes. I could feel it, like a shadow behind the brightness that blinded me. I could feel the corridor open up before me and I could feel the energy of the portal as we approached it.

"Is everyone ready?" I asked.

"Ready as we're going to be," Imoen chirped. I knew she was close when she took my hand. "You're sure about this, sis?"

"Let's go," I said.

Moving through the portal blind was a strange experience. It had always looked like a door to me, but now, without my vision, it felt different. Like I was pushing through a membrane maybe, or walking into a giant spider's web, woven from energy instead of silk. It brushed my face and I felt it with my hands.

"Take me to Anomen," I whispered. I felt Imoen's hand on my shoulder. And then the world lurched around me. A wave of nausea struck. I stumbled, caught my balance. The air felt fresh. There was a breeze on my face. A moist breeze—where ever we were, we were not in the desert of Amkethran.

"Where are we?" Imoen asked.

"You're asking me? What do you see?"

"There is an obelisk ahead of us," she said. She pulled me forward. "There is a path." It felt like dirt under my feet. Not a road. Not pavement. "Sarevok is running ahead. The obelisk bears the symbol of Helm."

"That's promising," I said.

"Yep. Have you ever heard of a place called Watcher's Keep? That's what the obelisk says."

"Never." But actually, it sounded familiar. Watcher's Keep—where had I heard that?

"Years ago a Helmite cult set up residence in a place called Watcher's Keep," Keldorn said. He moved past us, forward I assumed. I didn't hear Jaheira at all.

"The path leads to—wow," Imoen said. "Is that the keep? Built into the side of that hill? It looks huge. Like a giant's fortress."

Great. All we needed was giants now, and me with naught but a dagger. "Lead on." I only stumbled a few times. Like in a dream, my feet seemed to know this was where we should be.

"There are smaller buildings near the tower," Imoen said quietly. "I see a few people. Some are wearing armor." She was doing her best but this wasn't telling me much. What kind of armor? What kind of weapons? Trained soldiers, hunters, or peasant militia? "They see us. They are moving toward us."

I heard someone call out, presumably from the camp. "Are they attacking?" I asked urgently. "Do they have missile weapons?"

"No one has drawn a weapon. They seem to be calling someone. Sarevok wants us to stop. Let's wait here, under this tree."

We stopped and waited. I blinked. I felt the shade of the tree on my face but not even a hint of shadow darkened my vision, all was light still. I hadn't been able to sleep since I'd awoken from the dream. Even when I closed my eyes, the light was still with me. There was a long pause and then I heard running footsteps. My hand dropped to my dagger in pure instinct.

"Keeta!" It was Anomen. My shoulders sagged in relief.

"You're alive." I reached out. His hands took mine and squeezed.

"Thank the gods you're here," he said. "Our prayers have been answered."