Chapter 29: Bryce
As strange as the tale Jaheira told us, every detail seeming to add to its ridiculous, implausible nature, somehow, it made sense as well. It would be hard for anyone, let alone someone like me, who grew up essentially in isolation, to believe that they were tied, inextricably, to a dead god. Yet, the bond between Bhaal and I wasn't something as ephemeral as faith; his blood...ran in my veins.
The dreams that came across as visions, a seemingly impossibly calm, rational response to not only having to kill people, but having to encourage others to do so as well. A force beyond my control overtaking my thoughts and behavior, the last great bastion of one's own free will. It was all connected by His intent, his plan, which apparently began even as far back as the Time of Troubles.
I find Imoen as we trudge back through the forest of High Hedge, going more slowly out then we came in, due to certain injuries, as well as new faces.
"Imoen."
I call out to her, pushing my way past trees, under and through branches, bushes, foliage.
She turns to me, not as fast as she used to. Something else was off about her behavior as well. Her smile seemed strained, her posture defensive. Just as she finished turning towards me, a final nonverbal que told me all I needed to know. She took a small step back, not even a whole one, a half or quarter pace, I would judge.
"Imoen..." My voice trails off, a hollow imitation of a greeting.
"Heya." She looks away, then back to me. "You reacted EXACTLY like I thought you would. "'I see, it explains quite a lot, mhm, yes, clearly the best possible explanation." She tries to make light of the situation, Gods bless her.
"I have to apologize, Imoen."
She waves an exaggeratedly dismissal hand. "Nah, you've done a lot of that today already."
"I did something terrible, something I regret very much. How could I just let that go?"
She sighs. "We have to move on when we do bad stuff, Bryce. Didn't Ol' Stick in the Mud teach ya that enough?"
"Now that I know what, who, I am, what happened to Neera won't...it can't happen again. I can fight his influence -"
"Okay, enough with the hero talk, please?" She...giggles? Then turns away from me. "Come on, we gotta keep moving." She waves a hand forward as she starts off.
Hero talk? What does she think I am, some kind of...I don't even know. That's my problem, having a difficulty understanding the thoughts of others. Surely, I know what they mean when they speak, what kind of information they wish to convey.
Yet, somehow, every conversation I have seems to revolve around me. Especially now, I'm sure, that there is a specific thing about me, my heritage, that makes me rather unique, even among a population as diverse, extraordinarily so, as that of the Realms.
And so, when I speak to others, even my childhood friend of old, I never seem to understand how their thoughts go from Point A, travel down the path known as memory, the road with the sign labeled experience, and reach Point B.
If I'm confused by her thoughts about Jaheira's woven tapestry, then I suppose I would have a much harder time speaking for anyone else's. It's information, frankly, that I was surprised she shared at all, let alone in such elaborate detail.
I can trust Rasaad, Kivan with such information. One seeks knowledge for its own sake, and the other is driven by a pursuit even more single-minded than my own.
But Montaron and Xzar?
Furthermore, I haven't had a chance to speak to Neera. I doubt she wants to talk, or even look in my general direction. How could she, after...
For my entire life, I believed my father was less than a man, someone who abandoned his greatest responsibility, someone not worth calling my relative, let alone one of my closest. I thought, naively, that if I journeyed beyond Candlekeep's walls, that I might find him, demonstrate what kind of person I've become without him in my life.
I see now how foolish that way of thinking was. My father was not just a man; he was something far greater. Something I'm going to have to elevate myself, my life, to be worth comparing to.
As for demonstrating what kind of person I will be...that I can work on. One day, one mistake at a time. Bhaal, you will not have control of me, of my mind. My life, and my destiny, are my own, and no matter how much of you is in me, no matter what last vestiges of control you try to exert on this world...my strength, my focus will see me through.
You will not win.
