The Search for Lesle Mere
Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.
Tomb of The Twin Souled
I've been informed that they ought to reach Athkatla by the time you read this missive. Thank you for providing the seal necessary for them to access the domain of the Council of Six. Apart from the stone and amulet finding, there is nothing new to report.
On the home front, Ophala and I are doing everything in our power to convince Lord Nasher that we've dropped the issue. I cannot say for certain what goes on in that man's head, but he has given us room to breathe in the past month.
I realize that this may not be enough to satisfy you, but with what has already been uncovered, there is no reason to assume anything other than she is alive.
Have faith.
~ E.S.
Aarin sighed, tossing the letter into the fire.
The rational part of his mind knew that Lesle had been missing for over twenty years now, but after he'd been presented with the possibility of finding her, alive no less, he found it difficult to wait any further.
The Spy Master grabbed his cloak off the table, swinging it over his shoulders. A good stiff autumn wind was just what he needed to refocus.
Aarin Gend surveyed the building's outside as soon as he left the front door. It was of sturdy construction, made of fine wood and simple grain. Its guards consisted of Thundertree militia and his agents from Neverwinter, and they were currently at work discussing Zalantar harvesting with the local contractors on the lawn.
He took that as his opportunity to pass by undetected, blending into a gaggle of people in the market across the way.
Thundertree was much as its name implied; a sizeable village surrounded by dense woodland. Its people wore warm, simple garments. It didn't scream opulence, but it was evident that its people cared well for one another. Aarin new that part of the reason Lord Nasher sent him here was to keep him from investigating the Lesle Mere situation, and he felt some resentment for that.
But Aarin couldn't be entirely angry with his liege. Getting out of Neverwinter and putting his nose to a new project seemed to be exactly what he needed to breathe again. How strange that he didn't realize he'd been suffocated until he had the chance to expand his lungs.
The Spy Master took silent note of the boys and girls in the village. They were better dressed than usual, with many of the lasses sporting braids and woven flowers in their hair. He paused by the father of one such pair of children, warning them to keep their clothes clean or else he'd box their ears when they returned home.
"Excuse me," he said softly, grabbing his attention. "Is today a special occasion?"
The man looked him over, but did his best not to stare out of politeness. "Clearly not a local, then," he smirked at Aarin's exotic appearance. "A little pilgrimage is all. The young'ins head off to the Tomb of the Twin Souled every harvest season. Drop off some flowers, dried fruits… things like that."
"Tomb of the Twin Souled?"
"Aye." He pointed down a dirt path, whose only real marking was a handful of cobbled stones at its entrance. "You'll find it in the valley below. Years ago, back when I was a boy, a woman came through and started a right fuss. Hired out every grown man in the village to build a tomb. Must've been a priestess or magician of some kind, because once it was finished anyone that worked on it forgot the details of how it was made."
Aarin's ears perked up with interest. "Did she cause harm in any way?"
"Nay, sir. Just walked in there, and came out after a night and day. I and half the children from town were in the shrubs, just watching. Couldn't see her face none, but she picked some flowers and laid them at the foot of the place. Just then a breeze passed through, warm like a mother's kiss, and dogwood petals rained down from the trees on her head. Right magical sight that was." His eyes gleamed bright at the memory. "She caught sight of us and smiled a bit, and asked if we'd keep an eye on her friend. Can't says no to a lady with a golden heart, so we did just that. Somehow or other, a tradition was made."
Aarin Gend offered him a polite smile and a tilt of his head, deciding that he would like to visit this Tomb himself.
The entrance to the dirt path was ominous at first. Thick branches barred the way, but the children saw no problem with bending them or climbing beneath. He caught one such branch as it was about to swat him in the face, chuckling under his breath at their eagerness to move forward.
As he progressed, the path grew lighter, with patches of sun leading the way.
The valley stretched out at the mouth of the woods, and he paused as little ones darted around him, lost for words at the view.
Burning red and smoldering burgundy leaves surrounded this place. It was small, with its focal point being a slivering canal at the heart of the canyon. The evening sun gilded this world in its golden glow, limning the trees and bushes in soft, fiery light.
Fireflies were thick in the air, and glimmered like stars as he moved down the side of the rolling hills, after the children with arms filled with flowers.
He came to the stream at the heart of the valley, and crossed a wooden bridge into an indentation in the land. There was no other way to see this grove, since it was sunken into the hillside, and surrounded by dogwood trees as the man had described to him.
The Tomb of the Twin Souled was a simple square structure, and resembled a simple mausoleum from Neverwinter's own cemetery. Its exterior was made from gray quartz, and shimmered from the candles surrounding its entrance. Its only other decorative quality were the two stained glass windows on either side of the cherry wood door. One depicted a woman drowning in fire, and the other was her sitting on a bed of flowers, gazing at the sun.
The children dropped their bouquets on either side of the door before clustering around an older group of youths holding candles. Aarin caught snippets of their conversation, in which they told stories of who they thought the woman could be.
Some called her a martyr, or a sister to the one that commissioned the Tomb's construction, or a simply a devoted friend.
Aarin Gend sat at the door to the monument, and watched in a daze as dusk turned to night, and the children left to return to their parents, holding pale candlesticks among the fireflies.
His curiosity got the better of him, and the Spy Master reached for the door, stunned to find it unlocked.
The moonlight from the outside poured into the hallways. Stones that had been polished like mirrors were embedded in the walls, and they reflected the light off of one another, covering its halls in flecks of moon beams.
Aarin Gend marveled that there was such a place in Thundertree. He continued down the stairs, and gaped at the two banners on both sides of the archway before him.
They were banners of Neverwinter, an archaic design that had been altered shortly after the War with Luskan.
The room beyond was covered in flowers, each lovingly tended to be at their utmost form. And finally, directly opposite of him in a tiny alcove, he saw a statue of Tyr, with Torm and Ilmater at his left and right hands.
These allied goodly gods formed the Triad, and were commonly found overlooking those of noble birth or standing. Aarin Gend approached, revealing a sunken portion of floor made of glass.
And there, in ageless glory, he saw Aribeth de'Tylmarande.
The elven paladin was exactly as he remembered her, but in place of her armor, she wore a simple gray robe. Whoever laid her to rest made certain to return her bastard sword. It now rested across her body, with her hands folded over its hilt and pommel.
A flurry of emotion rained in his heart. There was helplessness, that he could do nothing to aid her in the past, and a sense of guilt since he was so blinded by his duty. He'd thought her foolish once, for betraying her city and Lord for a man, and yet he'd almost done the same when Lesle disappeared from his life.
He trembled in silence, kneeling on the glass floor with a hand stretched out towards her face. He would say sorry a thousand times if only he were able.
"Don't fret, old friend."
He felt a firm breeze on his shoulder. Aarin Gend raised his head, and wondered if he'd gone mad. Though diaphanous in form, Aribeth stood in front of him, with a smile that made relief spread through his tired soul.
"You cannot be real."
She laughed through her nose. "I am as real as Tyr permits me to be. I see you've found me," she added with a note of humor, eyeing her body in the glass. "I've certainly looked better."
He blinked. His heart knew without a doubt that this was Aribeth, the same one he knew and worked with for many years, but his mind had trouble registering it as truth. She saw his conflict on his brow, and nodded before starting an explanation.
"After my execution, my spirit was cast away to Cania. It was there that I began a long penance to atone for my crimes. With the aid of some very brave souls, I redeemed myself in the eyes of Tyr, and found a home at his side." She watched him relax, glad at the news. "I was just as surprised as you were, my friend, that my body had been properly laid to rest."
"I thought you were thrown off a cliff."
"As did I." Her eyes softened. "Look at the palm of Tyr's hand, Aarin."
He did as she asked, and found a silver ring in his outstretched hand. He recognized it as one of Lesle's personal effects. He now knew without a doubt that she was the one that had commissioned the Tomb for their friend.
"It was once mine," she added quietly. "Lesle had purchased it off a child in Helm's Hold while searching for Desther… and Fenthick. It was a remainder of my earliest years when I grew up in Thundertree."
More and more sense was being made. Aarin looked at the spectre. "That explains why she had it built here."
"Thundertree?" she asked, surprised. "Truly?"
"Have you never gone outside to look?"
"Truth be told, I was afraid to. I don't know what I'd do if I found myself surrounded by a neglected wasteland."
"Then come with me, to the entrance at least."
The spirit of the elven paladin shifted warily, but followed his passage. Aarin heard her take a sharp intake of breath.
Her spectral form shimmered like a cloud of gem dust. She gazed on the amber hills and scarlet valley, at a loss for words.
"This… was once the heart of the village… it had been moved to a more defensible position after orcs came from the high hills and slaughtered everyone." Her eyes softened as she ran her hands through the piles of flowers the children had brought. "This place was once a sea of ash and fire… I doubted it would ever heal, and yet… it's beautiful, Aarin. Beyond anything I could have imagined."
He took the time to explain the story of how Lesle had the tomb built. At the end Aribeth smiled so genuinely that he felt the air around her grow warm.
"Would that I knew what I had done, to deserve a woman such as her as my friend. How is she?"
She blinked at the pained expression that tore across his face. With evident difficulty, Aarin described the events that occurred over twenty years ago, and the search for the woman that had disappeared in time. When he finished, she rested a hand on his shoulder in deepest sympathy.
"She is not dead, my friend. That I say with certainty… yet strangely, she is not on the Material Plane either. I sense fragments of her, like echoes from the past, she is both nowhere and everywhere."
"That makes no sense!"
"To you or to myself," she agreed. "It is simply what knowledge Tyr has bestowed upon me. She has come a long way from the little girl I once knew."
He pushed his anxiety aside, focusing on that last sentence. "I never learned how it was that the two of you met. Would you do me the honor of sharing that story?"
The paladin nodded gracefully.
"It was in the shadow of the Sword Mountains. I was in the earliest stages of my training to become a paladin alongside my fellow men-at-arms. She was a sliver of a woman, scarcely more than a girl then. And she had warned us when our simple patrol was about to get ambushed by an orc scouting party,"
"Her archery was far from perfect then, but there was a level of resilience in how she shot that caught my eye. I nearly had my head lobbed off, by the way," she felt she should add. "It goes to show how green I was that I would get distracted during battle."
"And that was it?" he asked. "How did you know how to reach her when you were recruiting students for the Academy?"
"I didn't," she answered. The simplicity of the response left him dumbfounded. "In fact, I didn't think of her again until I received that duty, but by then it was years later. I recall writing dozens of letters, spreading the word to local towns and villages to be announced by their criers. I assumed she must have been in one when she heard the call. All I know was that it was answered."
"You never spoke of it?"
"Why should we?" she queried. "She came to our aid, Aarin, when we needed it most. I cared not of what she did before then, only that I was grateful for the here and now… as were you. The past is ever inconsequential until we lose something dear to us. The best any of us can do is retrace our footsteps."
"Then do you have any advice you can give?" He looked on her in earnest. "I know you cared for her, Aribeth, as much as I did, in your own way."
At this the phantom gave serious pause.
"Take my ring, Aarin. You say that the other companions have articles of their own. Perhaps Lesle left it here for a reason other than marking her role in building my tomb, or perhaps it is nothing. All I know is that once this day is over, it will be sealed again, and not to be opened until this time next year,"
"As for any other words I can give you… hmm… seek out the ones carrying the quest. Meet them at a crossroads in the journey, where their path coincides with your own. Give them my ring, Aarin. If it aids them then all is well, and if not, then no love is lost on a piece of silver. Above all take heart, my friend. If I know anything it is that Lesle would not part with you unless the world itself was crashing on her shoulders. I was there when you were falling in love, though I highly doubt you noticed."
He had the decency to blush at the jab, causing the spirit to laugh at him.