The Way to Spellhold

That night, I visited Aerie; her room was closest to mine, and I had long since decided hers was the easier mind to convince. As she knelt, robed and in prayer, I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come, your pleas have been answered."

She stared at me.

"We are getting out of here. Tonight." Then alleviating her confusion, I added, "Have faith, priestess. I will lead us out of this mess, to Imoen."

"I… believe you." Steadying her shaky voice, she affirmed, "I believe in you."

Had she know what I was, who my sire was, she might have chosen differently. "Gather your things."

Nalia was next.

"Trust me," I told her, and she did. No questions, just that same desperate, longing hope she had just before we cleared her home. She had lost her father; she did not know what became of her aunt; in her eyes, she only had her life left to lose. She was wrong.

It was days since anyone had seen me, and though food was brought and left outside my chamber, I had not eaten. In the dream, I had neglected my body; the servants believed I was fasting, purifying myself and gathering my strength. They saw me as akin to a monk, a paladin. They shied back, afraid to enter my presence; their unspoken whispers reached Nalia; had she begun to believe?

Minsc was sleeping. So was Edwin. Bleary eyed and gruff, Korgan demanded what I wanted, so I left him to his tankard. We were almost out; best to let him finish in peace; it might be his last.

"So. Have you come to gloat? To hear me say you were right?"

I blanched; her words stung more than they should.

"Well? Speak! Do not stand there like a quivering fool! Gorion raised better than that in you."

"I'm sorry." I said simply, my prepared speech crashing down around me, like bricks struck by a catapult.

She stared, then softened, the harsh glint fading. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. "Child…" She stopped, "Come in, close the door."

I had not anticipated this; my resolve began to fail. I couldn't stand this gentleness; I'd braced myself for a row, for a verbal beating–

Her hands found my shoulders; she held me, studied me, then sighed as everything I'd held together erupted into soundless, unstoppable tears. How long I sobbed into her shoulder I don't know. She smoothed my hair, letting me cry like the child she always named me as. Finally, after I cried myself out, she took my face in both hands, wiped around my eyes and held her own close to mine. I saw myself staring back, uncertain, hurting… broken. Afraid. A… mortal.

"I sometimes forget how fragile you are," she commented almost to herself, "Imoen would say how you hid your heart, how even your eyes did not reveal your thoughts. I forget how much you love her, when you are so calm… and I, who should be, am not.

"You were right; we should have left." Her thumb squeezed gently, "I should be supporting you, guiding and nurturing you, teaching you all I know. I have done none of that. Gorion made me your guardian, and ach, I miss him. I miss my Khalid. Kind, patient, strong, brave, dear gentle Khalid. I never told you of him, did I?"

My head answered with the barest shake.

"He… he was a fine man." Another sigh, "He would… you would have done well by him. In my own grief, I have neglected you; there is no excuse. You have been through far worse, live with worse… you will have my comfort, my support."

"Your trust?" I managed weakly, choked. Why was it so important to me?

"Silvanus forgive me," she breathed, "Yes, god-child, that and more."

I stared at her, unable to speak.

She watched me for a moment, "Perhaps… perhaps it is time we talked." She must have seen the confusion. "In all this time, we have walked together, ridden together, fought and suffered, but never talked. I have watched over you every night, every waking moment, and I have said little to you."

Guiding me to the bed, we sat. Distantly, she stared at the wall, beyond the wall; shaking her head slightly, she cleared her thoughts. "I never expected to have children; one day, perhaps, with Khalid. But not for many years. As half-elves… we always believe we have our whole lives ahead of us. Our pasts were troubled, not like yours, but… troubled still; Khalid's was worse. He would say mine was, but we always disagreed on many things concerning the other."

When she spoke again, it was not of her husband, "We agreed because we admired him, because he led us. Because he was… a father and brother to us both. Gorion. He was not just the sage you knew him as; kindly, sometimes, but patient? Only in later years. He… loved you both. He had many years left in him when he retired from this wandering life, this life of adventure, and freedom, of righting wrongs, aiding others, and sleeping in ditches. It's a life some aren't suited for."

"Like me?" I couldn't help myself.

She shook her head, "No child. You are more suited to it than most, though it is not a life you chose willingly. It was thrust upon you, as it was Imoen."

"I would choose it a thousand times, a thousand, thousand times if it meant she…"

"I know," Taking my hand, she squeezed it and sighed, "He taught us so much. We were honoured he had chosen us; there were others he might have chosen, but we – ach, I do not like to speak of the past. What's done is done, and remembering it – we have the presence to face."

Slowly I nodded, wondering about the good times, the bad, and found myself prompted to ask, "My mother… he never told me of her. Did he…? Did you?"

She closed her eyes, "Imoen's yes, yours? Perhaps. There were so many." Now she hesitated. "Tell me, child, do you know why we were chosen as your guardians?"

"How could I?"

Lips pursing, the half-elf allowed, "I suppose not. What about of your birth? Why you were brought to Candlekeep?" Her eyes had sharpened; she seemed to have reached a decision. I looked at her, waiting. "There is no reason for you to know, but… there is much you know that you should not."

"I figured out the dreams…" I felt the need to defend myself, though it was half hearted.

"Then it is time you knew." She stopped. "This isn't easy for me to say. You – all of. No. The truth. You deserve that much. Gorion, Khalid and I were part of an organisation." A flash of insight; that was where she got her contact from. "He, that is, Gorion, had heard – you know of Bhaal, what he did? Why you and your siblings are driven to kill each other?"

"So he can be reborn."

"None of you were ever meant to survive. Not you, not Imoen, not Sarevok. Not the rest; others, we don't know about. Some smuggled away, trained as tools for destruction, a means to an end."

"Is that what I am?"

The look she gave me caused me to wilt, then blush. "Sorry…"

"You were all to be sacrificed. The alters were prepared, the rituals in place. Your own mothers, the priestesses of Bhaal. The knives had already descended on some when we burst in. In the chaos, the confusion of battle, some fled. We didn't end all the priestesses that day. We knew there were other temples, but we did not know where. Against the better judgement of our superiors, we assaulted the temple. It was impossible to tell which child belonged to which mother; only magic flew, and blades crashed. The skeleton guards, the chief cleric; we fought them while Gorion tried desperately to save you."

"…Me?"

"You, and the rest of your siblings. He believed that you were not monsters; despite the darkness inside, you deserved the choice to command your own destinies, that if you were given that chance, you could overcome your nature. That you and your siblings could be a force for good."

"…So I was a tool."

She tensed to slap me, but stayed her hand at the last. Her arm never lifted. If it had, I would not have blamed her; somehow, she understood the resentment. Instead, she took me by the chin, and pressed her lips to my brow. I realised then that while cloistered away, we had been raised as children, with trouble-free childhoods. We had been sheltered from the world as much was as humanly possible. We had been loved, were loved…

"You… held me, back then?"

Her nod confirmed it, though she did not question how I knew. "You and Imoen. I believed you were monsters, all of you, that you should be destroyed, and then I looked into your eyes. You were helpless, innocent. I knew Gorion was right. I had the chance to end the threat from one temple, but when I had the sword in my hand, I could not."

"But… why would – if they… my mother…"

"Without the ritual, it was believed the essence would not return to Bhaal." She hesitated, voicing what we both knew, "Sarevok's fall… proved otherwise. Had we slain you, we only would have hastened his return. The ritual – I don't know if it was a farce, a trick, or if it would have brought Bhaal back, but… as long as you are alive, he cannot return, not fully."

"Then I… Imoen…"

"You told me the skull in the dreams lied."

"It wants me to kill my siblings. All of them." I sighed, "To bring back Bhaal." Aloud I wondered, "If there are more priestesses left…"

"Only some know the ritual, and those are few. We have hunted down those we can, but the children… the spawn…"

"They seek to take his place." Resting my cheek against her shoulder, I closed my eyes, "Imoen told me Sarevok's intention." I hesitated, "My… intention."

Sharply, she drew in her breath. Had she recoiled, I would have been heartbroken; she stayed very, very still.

"The night… when Imoen left, when I thought Gorion abandoned me… when Hull pushed me from the walls… I later realised what it would cost, for others… for myself."

"And now?" Her tone was careful, neutral.

I shook my head and clung to her arm, "I just want my sister back."

I felt her smile, proudly, sadly, and the hand that would have slapped me reached to stroke my hair, fingers lacing through it. Finally, I looked up, "What of Imoen's mother?"

Sudden anguish lit her eyes, and pain, deep, enduring pain of a wound that had never healed. Fear gripped me; her hold did not release, and slowly, she spoke, "Her name was Aliana. A… forgive me, child, it is hard, even after so long. Gorion loved her; she was beautiful. Her charm was such that she lit the most miserable of days with the joy of sunshine."

"Like Imoen."

"Yes, like Imoen."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. None of us do, except Gorion, and he refused to speak of it. Khalid and I broached him on several occasions, together, alone… it was the one thing he would not tell."

"What do you think happened?"

"I… somehow, there was a row, an argument. What it was over, I don't know. I suspect it was over Imoen. She… Bhaal did not just take the willing, and those he took, he corrupted. I know she wanted to keep the child, and Gorion at that time, wanted to destroy it. Like the rest of us, he believed you all to be an abomination. She… she was the only one who did not. When she took the robes, it was not – I have pieced together no more details. All I know is she fell in Gorion's arms that night we saved you, and as she lay dying, he vowed to raise her child as his own. Had Bhaal not… they would have married, had their own life."

"But you said Gorion believed we could be saved…"

"He did. But only at the moment of Aliana's death, after she shielded you, Imoen and Sarevok with her own flesh. It was then… everything changed."

"Gorion… he was the one…"

"Yes, child. It was his lightning that felled her. And we… we participated in it. Bhaal's power, even though he was dead, compelled her, but she resisted. Her knife had not lifted; I now know she never had any intention of ever sacrificing her babe, and would have sacrificed herself to save you all."

For a long while, we sat in silence. Eventually, she brushed herself down, "Well now," her tone levelling to its usual self, "you came to tell me were are leaving?"

After half a moment, she added, "Close your mouth, child, you look foolish."