It Could Be You
The weather was fickle all the way to Waterdeep: the passage was choppy and a storm had blown them off-course for a while. Now, the winds had died down just as suddenly: the sailors were grumbling about the water being almost too calm, as if the sea did not wish them to proceed further north.
Sailors. They must be the most superstitious people in all Faerun, but with their precarious existence they have good enough reason.
Amadei heard footsteps behind him: he recognised the shuffle of his wife's silk slippers. She believed them practical for a voyage, and so far refused to don the sturdy yet unflattering pair of well-oiled boots he had packed for her.
"I hoped we would arrive in Waterdeep before sunset. Surely we're running late."
"I doubt we'll even pass Daggerford by then. The elements won't run to our schedules, dear."
And what schedule do we have, really? Some non-urgent Temple business, and the opportunity to meet Master Durnan at last, and see what he can tell us of Cora. If anything at all.
The errand to Waterdeep needed no more than a messenger, rather than a senior member of the Order. He had mentioned it in passing to his wife, because he hoped to send a letter to Master Durnan, but Helene had seized on it, suggesting that they should could go there to speak with him in person.
"You were always ruled by the women in your family,"Sir Lennard had told him when he made the request.
"Duty takes many forms, and once a man starts a family, he bears a responsibility to them as well as to his life's work. If he cannot accept that fact, then it is better not to marry at all," retorted Amadei. Lennard, a single man for his entire life, had made a similar point in a sermon recently and Amadei had taken a small, not entirely pious satisfaction in repeating his words back at him.
Their working relationship had been characterised by such snippiness over the years, yet it was like the bickering of brothers, touched by rivalry but never truly bitter. They held an underlying core of respect for one another even when they did not agree, and Amadei had not been too surprised when his wish was granted.
Besides that, he had something more than a wife's wishes to spur him into taking the trip. After Elista's funeral and her mysterious disappearance, he had tried once more to talk to Ruby, the fallen paladin, in the hope that she could shed some more light on the situation. She had been more open than he expected, speaking of her alarm at the course of events, and of her recent conversations with the deceased. Ruby confessed that she had first mentioned Cora in passing to Elista, who seemed to take quite an interest in the story – and also that Elista had been spying on a tiefling, for reasons unknown.
Amadei could not be wholly certain that the tiefling in question was Cora, but plane-touched beings were rare in his part of the multiverse. He also knew from Helene's own account that Elista had met Cora, and that the fortune-teller seemed to know some details of her current travels and her companions. Unable to find out any more at home, Waterdeep was his only lead, for now.
I only hope that it helps my wife, rather than reopening the wound.
"Are you feeling well now?" he asked her. Unaccustomed as she was to boat travel, she had been violently sick in their cabin when the storm was at its height.
"Much better," she said. "I'm poorly suited to roughing it, aren't I? I am still glad we're doing this, though."
He slipped an arm around her waist. "So am I."
In truth, he expected that the innkeeper would not be able to tell them very much. All he knew was that she was likely to be in the Underdark, if she still lived. The news about Waterdeep seemed to have dried up, but that fact alone told him nothing about his foster-daughter's fate. They would have to wait, he and Helene, just as they had done on another occasion.
0-0-0
They had faced their first trial along the journey, a hulking beast of a balor, but now a new challenge faced Cora's party.
The narrow, overhung path had widened out into a great vista, and at last Cora was able to get a measure of the scope of the land, away from confined spaces. Shelter would be hard to find here, that was for sure. The wind buffeted against her constantly, searing the small patches of skin on her face that were neither helmeted nor wrapped in a scarf.
She had not known what to expect: how could she? A winter-clad Hilltop was no adequate comparison, for the drifts had never been so impossibly deep, nor had there been great mountains of ice, glimmering like quartz.
Yet those features were mere exaggerations of the nature she had seen elsewhere: what she faced now was a river made from lava, molten orange, flowing wide and rapid. The banks were made of impacted ice with no sign of any thaw, the two elements not affecting each other at all.
"I wasn't expecting this," she said, the words inadequate and small for the wonder she felt, daunting though it was. "How are we going to get to the other side?"
"You could try swimming, but I wouldn't recommend it," said Valen. Cora could not see his expression since he was swathed against the chill, but the fact that he hadn't yet lost his humour was a comfort to her. He had been humming earlier too, an occasional, apparently unconscious habit that she found endearing in spite of his inability to hold a tune. Evidently he was in as good a mood as anyone could be when they were trapped in an icy Hell. She hoped it would last.
"There's got to be a way. Deeks, did the Sleeping Man mention the river in his story?"
"Angel man said to turn right where valley path opens up. That be here. Deekin sure he mentions fiery river but he not says how he gets across. Maybes he flies?"
"Maybe you could fly across, kobold. The rest of us don't have wings," said Valen.
It was not a good place to check Deekin's notes on the route, so they backtracked, hoping to find another way around. Tomi spotted a narrow, steep pathway leading to the top of the cliffs, and they struggled their way uphill.
"Look, Boss. There be gateposts over there," said Deekin, pointing the opposite direction to the fiery river.
"More than gateposts," said Valen. "I can see an astral doorway between them."
"Now Deekin be getting confused. The Sleeping Man mentioned a door that led to a place with a mimic box inside. Maybes that was the one, but it be in the wrong direction? Deekin still sure we gots to get past that river anyway."
"Hate those things," muttered Tomi. "You find yerself a nice fat chest to nick stuff out of, and the next moment it's trying to take a lump out of your arse. That's downright dishonest, that is."
"If there's the smallest chance those gates lead somewhere indoors, I'll gladly risk a mimic." As she spoke, Cora's eyes were drawn to a crystal, standing proud of the snow. The sight made her stomach coil with unease: as she walked closer, she realised why. Its twin had been found within the City of Lost Souls earlier, the viewing-crystal that Valen had smashed so thoroughly after seeing Mephistopheles and his army of raised corpses. Even now, she could see something flicker within, like shadow-puppets cast upon a wall in candlelight.
The others followed her, and she felt Valen's gauntleted hand clasp her shoulder. She stopped, and he unstrapped his flail, handing it to her.
"I need to look within the crystal... I need to see what's there," he said. "This time, I don't want to destroy it unthinkingly."
"You won't lose control of yourself this time," she said. She did not give the flail back, and she told herself that she was simply following his wishes.
There were facets enough for more than one to peer into at once, and she pressed her forehead to the cool, glassy surface. Once again, the scene within was dark, contrasting greatly with the white vista around her and she needed a few moments for her sight to adjust. She wondered if the crystal had captured the recent past of Lith My'athar. for a great battle raged between drow, duergar and illithid, bloody and relentless. She felt the rush of adrenaline as if she was still there fighting among them, and it took her a while before she noticed the architecture was not that of Lith My'athar but somewhere else.
It was then that she saw Mephistopheles. He strode across the battleground as unhurried as if he was taking an afternoon stroll in the sun, untouched by the chaos all around him. Occasionally he stopped, and as his red gaze settled on a combatant they burst into flame, flailing in agony before quickly collapsing into a heap of charred flesh and bone. The archdevil stopped once more and this time his great fists clenched, his body and face tensing as he gathered in on himself. His livid flesh pulsed crimson before he straightened up, instantly taller than before.
"Even now, he grows in strength." Valen's tone of voice was close to a snarl.
Cora broke off her viewing to look at him. Although Valen's posture was taut, his hands gripping the sides of the crystal too firmly, his eyes were their usual piercing blue.
Cora took a quick peek back at the crystal, but the scene dimmed. "It's fading," she said. "As if a message has been sent."
"I don't recognise the city, but I am certain of one thing. The archdevil is gathering an army. It looks like he will succeed where the Valsharess failed. Even if the Seer yet survives, her forces are too depleted to topple him." His scowl deepened. "It seems nothing has changed in the Underdark, apart from the name of its most powerful tyrant."
Cora felt an odd mix of feelings. Guilt, because she felt somehow responsible for the fact that Mephistopheles was unchained. Exasperation, because she doubted she could have done much to change the course of events anyway.
If we ever get out of here, Valen will want to go back, she thought. He needs to know the Seer is safe. The idea filled her with gloom. All she wanted was to return to Faerun, to see the passage of day and night, comforting in its predictability. She wished to be around people who were neither perfectly good nor evil, but somewhere in between.
She knew she would follow Valen if it came to that decision, regardless, but she did not ask him about his intentions. First things first. Make camp or keep moving, if we want to survive this for long enough to consider the future.
As if to prove her point, a pack of wolves emerged from around the corner: she quickly handed back Devil's Bane to its owner and prepared herself for a fight.
0-0-0
Neither sorrow, faith or pain impelled Aribeth to get up and start walking. She was irritated. Unable to return to her prison of ice voluntarily, she found herself both longing for oblivion and dreading it. Her thoughts also kept coming back to the people who had woken her up.
Pray to Tyr, she said. As if it's so very easy, after all that I have done.
I'll not do it. Certainly not on the suggestion of some tiefling from who-knows where. How did Tomi get mixed up with such a motley band? Then again, the halfling's nothing more than a convict.
And what are you, oh great Lady Aribeth, to look down upon anyone? His crimes were paltry compared with yours.
Tiring of her ongoing arguments with herself, she strode onwards, not knowing where she was heading, until she saw a group of spirits huddled close in the usual spot where they congregated.
Strange how they choose to stand together, even though they are all caught up in their own private Hells. Was this why I thought I could organise them?
Their numbers had thinned out considerably since she last ventured outside the cave, and she guessed that some had drifted elsewhere, perhaps to the inn, even though they would never feel warmth again. Approaching the group, she heard a sound that she once might have called unholy, an agonised screaming. Aribeth saw a flash of light envelop the woman, and all at once she was gone.
She almost dropped to her knees as a wave of pain passed over her: involuntarily, she whimpered, and she heard other voices echo her own. "What's happening here?" she asked, addressing no-one in particular.
Only one man answered her. "Lost, lost, yet not in the ground, not with an end that won't make a sound." He giggled like a halfwit, which only irritated Aribeth more.
"Speak sense, man! I've no patience for nonsensical riddles. Where did she go?"
"Gone, gone, every one, to march in time to the devil's drum," he intoned.
"Which devil?" she said sardonically. "There's hardly a shortage of them here."
"Swept off to war without a clue. Next, damned soul, it could be..." He lifted up a shaking hand to point at Aribeth, but then he faltered, a spasm crossing his face. He screamed, just like the other ghost had, and the pain came again, unbearably sharp. Aribeth closed her eyes involuntarily: when she opened them he was no longer there.
"It could be you," she said aloud. "That's what he was about to say, wasn't it? Tell me!"No-one answered, of the few who were left: recognising some of them, she knew they were either too mad or too close to becoming Lost to answer her.
It's not my concern, she told herself, only to realise a moment later that she was deluding herself. It could be you. Deciding that it would do no harm to make a few enquiries, she remembered that the sensei at the nearby temple seemed knowledgeable. Her only other idea was to seek out Tomi's companions. Since they seem to enjoy pestering people with questions, they may have found out something that I don't yet know.
0-0-0
For someone who had often communicated with Baatezu, Elista found that she was not comfortable with the Hells at all. It was not just the bitter cold which made her suffer, although she found it wearing since she needed magical shielding to avoid hypothermia. Her mind found Cania hardest of all, not her body.
Elista had lived alone for the past decade save for a couple of feline familiars, yet she was not plagued by loneliness during that time. She had kept herself busy, and there were people living nearby who she could call upon if she felt the need for a gossip. I'm not so different to a cat, in my elder years. Give me a warm fireplace and familiarity, and I'm content enough. Here in this inhospitable plane it struck her that she was both homeless and friendless: she might be able to use her magic as a route to earning her keep, yet she felt vulnerable. It had not escaped her notice that many of the living residents were slaves. As for the tortured ghosts that haunted the city, they made her feel worse, for she knew that it would take very little for her to join their number.
After her tense meeting with Cora she had gone back to the Reaper's Realm for a while. It occurred to her that there was one potential escape route. If the Reaper was incapable of opening his own portals, could she not make one of her own, taking her back to safety and warmth? She knew that once she died she would return here, bound to this place eternally, but she still longed for a temporary respite.
The Reaper warned her that because of her link of fate to Cora, she would likely end up either in another part of Cania or back in the Realm itself. Not heeding him, she took the time and effort to construct a portal to her house. When his words proved correct and she found herself in another part of the room, he had not laughed, yet Elista felt like a victim of a prank. She had no doubts as to whom the joker was.
How truly ironic that he's not even here to read the punchline, but I'm just one of his countless contracts. My work is done and even though I'm no longer useful, Mephistopheles would never free me.
Perhaps it was such loneliness that drew her to revisit the Temple of the Sleeping Man. If she did not expect a warm welcome from the sensei, Elista suspected that a little flattery might bring her round. It would prove a welcome distraction to talk to a woman of learning, however strange and obsessive she was.
As soon as she entered the Temple, Elista guessed that something had changed. Dharvana sat at her reading-stand, but gone was her shining sense of conviction: she seemed dull-eyed and listless.
"Go straight in if you wish," she said without preamble. "It is not my place to guard the Temple any more, if I may still call it that."
Elista could feel the waves of hurt and gloom emanating from the Sensei. "Am I right in thinking that something is wrong?"
"I am wrong – and I don't wish to discuss it with anyone. Go in if you wish," she repeated.
Either he's awake, absconded or dead, Elista thought. If celestials can die. As she walked along the corridor, she soon saw her answer, radiant with health.
"I didn't expect to find you awake," said Elista.
"Nor did I," the planetar said, his voice both musical and sonorous. "What brings you here, mortal? Are you another misguided pilgrim, or do you seek something else?"
"I'm certainly no pilgrim," she began, "which is fortunate if you see them as misguided, wouldn't you agree? I am seeking something, although I have no idea if I'll find it here."
"What might that be?"
"Freedom," she answered. Immortality might be rather useful too.
"A concept wide enough that it is hard to define. One man's freedom is another's prison."
She wasn't ready to explain: although he seemed to be taking an interest, she suspected he would turn judgemental as soon as the subject of infernal contracts came up.
"It means many things to me, some more important and hard to attain than others. At the very least I would like to be free to return home, to the Prime Material Plane. Unfortunately my path is blocked."
"Via the Reaper's portals? A group of visitors told me about it only recently."
"Was a tiefling by the name of Cora part of this group, by any chance?"
"That was the name she gave me. If you seek her, you will not find her here. She left this city recently, along with her companions." His golden, pupil-less eyes regarded her steadily. She knew he was not blind: he could see her clearly enough. And quite possibly sees into my mind, too. If she had long been comfortable with her own gift, she always found it somewhat unnerving when the same was directed at her.
"You seem relieved and disappointed all at once," he said.
She knew when someone was digging: she had done the same many times. She did not feel inclined to indulge him, so she asked a question in turn. "We come from the same plane. Did she somehow find a way back?"
"She is outside this city, following in my footsteps. It is hard to say how far she will have proceeded by now," For a celestial being, the Sleeping Man sounded almost evasive. "But it seems we have another guest."
When Elista turned around, she realised why she had not heard anyone approaching. The woman made no sound as she stepped through the doorway: she was undoubtedly a ghost, yet there was more substance to her than some of the others outside.
The spirit did not look at Elista: her gaze was fixed upon the planetar. "It's been a long time since I have felt the presence of good," said the spirit. "I had almost forgotten what it was like." A mix of emotions chased across her ethereal features.
"I can guess you're not referring to me," said Elista.
"A spirit yet full of life, and so much pain within. I wonder..." said the planetar, his voice trailing off. "... I wonder if it could be you?"
By the look on his face, it seems he is rather taken with her, Elista thought.
0-0-0
It could be you.
The planetar's voice was neither mocking or deranged, but the phrase struck Aribeth, and she answered more sharply than she intended. "What do you mean, and why do people keep saying this to me?"
"Others have said those words?" He seemed discomfited by her answer.
"I heard it from one of the other ghosts who drift around the city. Something unusual is happening to them. They are fewer in number of late, and I saw some of them disappear in plain sight, screaming with agony. The ghost who spoke with me suffered the same fate."
"I have never witnessed this phenomenon here," said the Sleeping Man, "but when you speak of screams... I heard them in my dreams, recently."
"I've seen it happening too," said the elderly woman. "Most unsettling."
Neither old woman and the planetar could offer any suggestions about the cause. Even so, Aribeth found herself oddly reluctant to leave. This place reminds me of times past when I was young and in love, and believed that I was truly good.
"I suppose I should seek out Tomi and his friends, and see if they know why," she said.
"Tomi? May I ask if this man is your love?" asked the Sleeping Man, a certain pointed curiosity in his tone.
She could not help but laugh, and this time it did not sound as bitter as the last. "Hardly."
"I know him," said Elista. "Or rather, I have seen him in a vision or two. I rather doubt that he's your type."
Aribeth was not too surprised by the old woman's talk of visions: she had already sensed the touch of the Weave around her.
Elista spoke again. "Actually, I was asking after his party, just before you walked in." She turned back to the Sleeping Man. "He travels with Cora. You said something about them following in your footsteps?
"They found a way forward, with my help." The planetar's tone of voice seemed measured, even careful, as if he were not entirely sure of the old mage yet. "I cannot say whether it will prove their salvation or their doom."
"They are quite determined. In that way they remind me of someone else who once worked with Tomi," Aribeth said.
"They are contradictory people, the tieflings," said the planetar. "I sense violence within them, in one more strongly than the other, yet they share a bond that reminds me of my own quest. They have ideals, even if they are shot through with doubt, and that is why I helped them."
"The girl seemed religious. She even suggested that I pray to Tyr in the hope of regaining my shattered faith."
"Cora isn't exactly typical of her kind. She was adopted and raised by a Helmite paladin," said Elista.
"Helmite?" Aribeth laughed, somewhat bitterly. "True or false? "
"You did not follow her suggestion?" asked the Sleeping Man.
"To pray to Tyr? Of course not."
"Why not?" he asked. "There is a sense of loss within you. That much is obvious." Although his voice was soft, she had the impression he was disappointed in her.
No more than I am in myself. In truth, why won't I do it? Because I am too proud, like Cora told me? No, it's not just that.
I'm scared.
"Once, I was a true believer, a paladin. Now I don't know if Tyr would strike me down or completely ignore my existence," she admitted. "I am not sure which I would find worse."
"The latter, almost certainly," muttered the old woman: if she was being sarcastic, Aribeth could only admit to herself that it was true.
"Will the two of you bear witness to what I am about to say?" she asked, hearing the unsteadiness in her own voice. Taking a deep breath and drawing out her sword, she gathered up the last of her courage, making sure her voice was as loud and clear as she could manage. "On this blade, on my names, both true and given, and on all the good and evil I have done in life, I commit all the days that remain to me to Tyr, for better and for worse. Let it be so!"
There was a split second where nothing happened, the others silently watching her, yet Aribeth felt released from the doubts that had plagued her in the past. She raised her sword, and as she did, a shaft of light pulsed along the blade, flowing through the hilt into her hand, suffusing her entire body.
She had been forgiven, and it was as if all the dark years fell away from her, like a cape sliding to the floor. Truly this felt like being alive once more, but without the arrogance she had once mistaken for certitude.
I am bound, yet I am free.
"Your trust in the god has transformed you," said the Sleeping Man. He beamed at her in a manner that could only be described as angelic, appropriately enough.
"Fascinating," said Elista. "You look more substantial now. I've never seen the effect of such a vow, only the..." Abruptly, she stopped speaking although her expression spoke of something which pained her deeply. Her thin hands clutched each other.
"Does something ail you?" Aribeth asked.
Initially, the old woman hesitated before shaking her head vigorously, one or two snowy strands of hair escaping from her bonnet. "I won't burden you with my worries. Enjoy your time in the light."
"I never thought I would have this chance again. This time, I must not squander his gifts: I cannot stagnate here, awash with self-pity. The question is, what does Tyr wish me to do?"