Chapter XXVI: Ghost Stories

It was late that night when the party slumped back to the army's campsite, returning to their tents and parting without a word. Hardly anything had been said in the long walk back from the Bhaal temple. They had met the old, insane witch who had raised Yaga-Shura, and heard her promise to remove his invulnerability if they could find his heart. As payment, she wanted hers back. Nobody dared ask the pertinent questions of the hows and the whys.

Apparently, both were kept in Yaga-Shura's home in the Marching Mountains. When they had returned to the campsite, Captain Asrael was apparently still gone with his group of soldiers, and so a lieutenant had sent him a message by bird to inform him of his new objective in the fire giant's mountain fortress.

So, for now, all that was important was sleep. Keeping watch did not seem to be on Harrian's mind as he slumped into his tent, joined by Jaheira, and the others similarly withdrew for slumber – save Sarevok and Reynald, who wordlessly started up the fire and sat down on opposite sides of it.

"I had not thought they would be so shaken by the encounters today," Sarevok intoned grimly, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He had shed his armour, and now wore a neat leather tunic that stretched at the shoulders; it had been loaned to him by one of the soldiers, but was made for a slightly smaller man.

"A pack of lies can sometimes be more painful than one would think. They know that they have been fed a ruse. I think they just need to sleep it off. It can't have been easy to have dead loved ones come back and accuse you of murdering them," Reynald mused, scratching at his chin as he tossed another block of wood onto the flames.

"As you said, though, their sufferings were lies. By the time our turns came, we knew that it was nothing more than smoke and mirrors, but they hit us with the truth. Presumably it is why they kept us till last," Sarevok said, shaking his head.

"You seemed to deal with the truth rather well," Reynald said dryly. "I almost wish I had had the sense to skewer my own vision."

"Why repeat the past?" Sarevok replied.

Reynald stiffened a little, but knew Sarevok wasn't directly trying to anger or offend him. "I was given no charade of my dead brother accusing me of killing him. There was no pretence that this was really a ghost at this point. But the words were true, and I make no excuses for my actions."

"How many did you kill?" Sarevok asked quietly. This was the voice of a man deep in contemplation, not of a killer exchanging tales.

"I forget. Is that worrying?" Reynald shrugged. "Around a dozen first. When I lost Torm's favour. A group of thieves who had done me no wrong, that I slaughtered in a blind rage. Then numerous villagers I was taking for slaving. Their blood on my hands, and I ordered others to kill and capture them. No," he chuckled wryly, "I make no excuses."

Sarevok grunted quietly, his eyes fixed on the fire. "I was a slave to ambition. I desired godhood above all else, so much that I shed that which made me human – friends, family, mortal wishes. At the time, I thought that made me stronger. Ultimately, it just led to my death." He straightened up. "I know why I did what I did. I can remember the whisperings of Bhaal in my ear. And a day ago, I would have still held the same desire for power as I did back then."

"What has changed?" Reynald queried, raising an eyebrow.

Sarevok paused for a long moment. "Bhaal does not whisper to me any more. I do not have to be the same man. I have been given a second chance at a new life. Everything that abomination pretending to be Tamoko said was true. I died for my ambition, and for listening to a dead God." He took a deep breath before shaking his head. "I do not wish to die as I did before. I thought that no longer having Bhaal whispering in my ear would ensure that history did not repeat itself. But perhaps it is not as simple as that; for Harrian is not a slave to murder. Perhaps it is something… of me, and not just of the taint."

"How many did you kill?" Reynald asked quietly. "In your search for godhood?"

"Gorion. Other Bhaalspawn. Those who stood in my way. I did not bring the Sword Coast to its knees, did not raze villages and torment townsfolk, but I am not without my sins. I, too, lose count," Sarevok replied simply.

"Do you feel sorry for that? Does it keep you awake at night?"

Sarevok shifted. "I do not know. I believe it is the absence of my Bhaaltaint which means I can not look back on the death and smile at the blood of it all. I am not the same man I was, and cannot pretend that I am. But I killed only those I needed to further my own cause. I did not slay wantonly."

"You caused the death of others, though, with your actions," Reynald pointed out.

"Are you trying to goad me into guilt, dark knight?" Sarevok challenged.

"No," Reynald said calmly. "I am merely trying to discover the depths of your discomfort. Because something is eating away at your soul."

"My soul is fine, but I needed to borrow a part of someone else's to return to life, and am now quite attached to living. I do not want to die a failed tyrant as I did before. I may have manipulated Harrian into the deal, but I cannot help but believe that there is a reason for my being here." Sarevok sighed deeply. "There are matters of the taint that I can understand like nobody can."

"Harrian and Imoen feel it, but they are under its sway. You know of its affects whilst still being… unbiased," Reynald said, nodding.

"Exactly, dark knight. The Prophecies shall be fulfilled. I just do not know by whom, and that is worth staying here for. If nothing else, it is somewhere that I can do something beyond the petty until I decide my path in life." Sarevok shook his head a little. "We should find ourselves a copy of the Prophecy. I feel it would guide us much better… and I have studied them at length, but my memory is faded somewhat."

"It might let us know what to expect," Reynald agreed.

"I think we shall need that."

In Harrian and Jaheira's tent, there was far less of productive conversation going on. They were both snug under the blankets, she curled up next to him, lying in a silence that would have been comfortable had it not been for the dark thoughts in their minds.

"You know it was all a lie," Jaheira said at last, sliding her hand up his chest and around his shoulders to play with the hair at the back of his neck. "Gorion would not say such things. You have not fallen prey to your taint."

"I know. I suppose that's why I haven't gone raving mad by now," Harrian murmured, looking into her eyes. "I just… I wish I could talk to him. Really find out what he thinks. I've wanted to do that for so long, and I thought, today… that I'd get my chance. Then it came crashing down."

"He would be proud of you," she whispered. "You have done so much, come so far. Won battles against your taint we wouldn't believe. Coped without having a soul. You could be the only chance there is of stopping the Five. Succeed or not, the fact that you are the most powerful Bhaalspawn left fighting on the side of good must mean something of your achievements." She kissed him lightly. "And I believe in you."

Harrian sighed slightly, closing his eyes. "That's enough." He took a few deep breaths, then continued. "And that spectre of Khalid was a lie, too."

"I know," Jaheira said, the roles reversed. "Now, I am more angry with those wraiths for daring to assume his form. The words he said… it is an argument I have had in my own mind times before. Seeing it happen in true form may be disconcerting, but it is nothing new."

"Khalid would understand," Harrian mumbled, though he wasn't sure if he was only trying to convince himself. "He would want you to be happy, not mourn for him forever. We are not dishonouring his memory."

"Another argument I have already had in my own mind," Jaheira said, but nodded slightly. "He is not forgotten. I know you have not shed him from your memory, and you know that… I have not either."

Harrian blinked. "I wouldn't expect you to." He sighed, shifting to sit upright a little. "Jaheira, for the longest time in our knowing each other, you were more mentor than friend, or anything more. I respected you, I liked you, and I valued your advice. But there was that distance. And then Khalid died, and I realised that… that you suffer the same pain as the rest of us."

"And, back in Athkatla, you helped me. However our relationship is resolved, for that I am eternally grateful. You… reached out to help me, when I would not have asked for your aid." Jaheira smiled wryly. "Pain, I felt. But pride was there too."

Harrian nodded slowly. "The last time I saw Khalid was… was in Irenicus' dungeon." He took her hand gently, stroking her palm with his thumb. "I do not know how far into our imprisonment it was. I was being moved from cage to cage at the time, though, all for the better access of various torture techniques…" His voice trailed off as he shuddered a little, and there was a long pause as Jaheira shifted closer to him whilst he regained his composure.

"Once, I was in the same cell as Khalid," he continued. "For no longer than a day – maybe it was an attempt to break my resolve, to see how my companions were being treated. And I was only half-conscious for most of the time there, so I remember only small images. Khalid did his best for me, but I could see then that… Irenicus wasn't being kind."

Harrian stopped, looking away, then swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bring it back like this… I'm explaining it all wrong… my point is that we were both aware that we weren't necessarily all going to make it out of here alive. Or any of us. But Khalid seemed to believe more fervently that I would last longer; and that was when I swore I would stand by you, protect you, help you… do whatever I could."

Jaheira's eyes were closed, her head bowed, but after a few deep, shuddering breaths, she curled up next to him again. "I think you have fulfilled your vow." She rested her head on his shoulder. "You can carry on, however, by, forever… being you."

"No taint can make me walk away from you," Harrian whispered, his eyes closed too as he kissed her forehead.

In the other tents, there was only slumber. Haer'Dalis slept the quiet sleep of one whose fate was tied to another power in the world, no longer caught up in the strings of Harrian's fate; an ally, but no longer quite the same comrade. And Anomen and Imoen… they simply slept. For lies lacking a kernel of truth can be chased away, and cryptic messages so abstract they seem irrelevant ignored. This made them less haunted than the others; not to mention that young love is so very good at shielding those it affects.