Chapter LV: Black-Hearted
"The greatest alliance of the Bhaalspawn, the Five, have been destroyed, godchild. Nearly all of Bhaal's essence has returned to its source… your journey is nearly complete."
Harrian looked up as the darkness faded to show the shining light of the Solar before him, standing in the centre of the plane of Bhaal. "If all of his essence is returning to its source, doesn't that mean he's being resurrected? And doesn't this mean that, as the last of the Eight, I have to now stop him?"
"The dead god Bhaal has not been resurrected," the Solar said, shaking its head. "You will need to impart knowledge upon the others for the Prophecies to come to pass… and, so you may best know what you are explaining, the one you know as Melissan will inform you herself."
The air shimmered, as it had before, and the shape of Melissan finally appeared. Only this was not the Melissan Harrian had recognised from before she had left the army after Saradush. She now stood taller, stronger, with her hair darker and in a leather armour that suggested warrior rather than soft-spoken scholar.
"What in the hells?" Harrian blinked.
"I am here," she said, her voice now harsh. "Speak quickly."
"You are here at my sufferance, spirit," said the Solar, not appearing distressed by Melissan's attitude. "You will answer my questions, for here it is I who has the control."
"I am no spirit. You have called a part of a goddess to you, and once I discover how you have enchained this part of me so and where I can find you, you will pay dearly," Melissan spat.
"You are no goddess yet," the Solar said, waving a glowing hand to dismiss Harrian's obvious questions. "The Prophecy is not yet complete. And, as I have the control, you shall explain yourself."
Melissan looked unhappy, but finally shrugged. "It shall change nothing," she said at last. "So be it. My true name is Amelyssan the Blackhearted, High Matriarch and Greatest Deathstalker of the Lord of Murder, Bhaal. It was I who led all the chants in His holy name! It was I who harboured His avatar when He was cast down amongst the mortals in the Time of Troubles! And it was to me that He entrusted the secrets of His resurrection."
Harrian gaped. "So you did all of this to pool the taint of the Children… and then bring Bhaal back?"
"For Him to be brought back, one of His priests would have to perform the necessary rites for His full power to return. One of His priests would have to hold access to His essence, so that they might return the strength of the taint to Bhaal," Melissan explained.
"And yet… there are only two Bhaalspawn left. And he's not back yet. Are you waiting…?" Harrian looked confused.
Melissan snorted. "Bhaal may fade to dust for all I care. The power… will be mine. The Five eradicated the Children. Illasera hunted far and wide, with Abazigal and Balthazar supporting her. Yaga-Shura and Sendai, on the other hand, defeated those who had gained any power of strength of arms, and when I had brought all the Bhaalspawn I could find to Saradush for 'protection', I unleashed Yaga-Shura upon them and let them be slaughtered.
"Then, finally, there was you. The only Bhaalspawn powerful enough to slay these near-demigods I had created. And now, with it done… I shall ascend. The power of the Lord of Murder shall be mine!"
Harrian's lip curled. "I'm still here," he snapped. "And it's not over that quickly."
"I have most of the essence of Bhaal under my control, fool. The Throne of the Lord of Murder is mine. I am nearly a Goddess. Do you think you have the power to defeat me? Do you think anyone does?" Melissan drew herself up to her full height. "You may face me, if you dare - face me and die. Or you may run, so I can hunt you down like the dog you are, so all the taint will be mine!"
The Solar waved a hand, prompting the spectre of Melissan to fade. "And so you see the end, godchild. There is one last challenge for one of Bhaal's blood to face in this pocket plane, and then… when it is all done, this place must be ended."
"Then I'll grab the others here and face that challenge!" a livid Harrian snapped, beginning to pace.
"You are not yet ready for this final challenge. Preparations must be made." The Solar gave him a long, contemplative look. "The Prophecy still waits for you in Amkethran. Inform your friends of Melissan's betrayal. Tell them to prepare themselves for the challenges that lie ahead of them. And then… then you will be ready for the final stretch of your own journey."
Harrian paused, frowning. "Very well. Send me back to Amkethran."
Light flooded into his vision, and he stumbled briefly from blindness and disorientation as he found himself exactly where he had stood moments before in the centre of Balthazar's chamber. The party were mostly gathered over where Anomen and Jaheira were kneeling over Reynald, both casting spells quickly.
Harrian dashed over. "What happened? I thought he just got punched," he said, blinking without understanding.
"There has been a great deal internal damage from the blows," Jaheira said as a spell finished, and some of the blood running down Reynald's face stopped flowing so freely.
"And a good many broken bones," Anomen concluded in a pause in his own spells, before glancing up at them. "So do try to keep your potions to hand, as our healing is running low."
Imoen glanced over at him. "What did you find out, Harrian? What do we do now? Balthazar's dead…"
"Melissan's a traitor," Harrian said, scowling. As the others paused, staring at him in disbelief - before Anomen and Jaheira returned their attention anxiously to the prone Reynald - he nodded, before telling them all he had been informed of by the Solar and the spectre of Amelyssan the Blackhearted.
Haer'Dalis looked particularly shaken. "I… I spoke with her often in Saradush. She had never reeked of the entropy that others like yourself have done, my raven."
Harrian smiled humourlessly. "Thanks, Haer'Dalis. I always knew I could rely on you to cheer me up." Then he glanced away, taking in the rest of the chamber. "We should leave here as soon as possible. You bet the rest of the monks will come running."
"Once Reynald is back up again," Jaheira agreed, not meeting his gaze as she spoke.
"I wonder if there's a library here as well," Harrian mused. "Balthazar gave me the impression he knows something more than… than we did."
"Abazigal was the scholar," Sarevok pointed out, somewhat scornfully. "What's a monk going to know the dragon didn't?"
"Balthazar wasn't working truly with the Five. He might have had information he didn't want to share," Imoen said, shaking her head as she stepped away from the healers busy at work. "Knowing more can't hurt." Her posture was a little jumpy, and her eyes were constantly evaluating their surroundings, as if looking for future threats.
"Right you are." Harrian gave her a slightly concerned glance, then looked over to one of the staircases leading up in the monastery. The building would be massive, and there were doubtless other monks who would investigate their missing leader and comrades coming along soon. "This may take some subtlety."
And he would usually bring Imoen with him. But she was pacing by now, muttering a little to herself, and still looking somewhat twitchy. She didn't meet his gaze as he gave her a concerned glance, and he thought it perhaps best to leave her to her own devices.
Anomen was unsubtle and dealing with Reynald. Reynald was similarly incapacitated. The notion of Sarevok in his bright emerald armour sneaking was almost laughable. Jaheira was helping Anomen with Reynald.
Harrian looked over at their final companion. "Fancy a walk, Haer'Dalis?"
The bard gave a deep nod. "I imagine I might be able to stretch my wings somewhat, my raven. Is there anything in particular we are in search of?"
"Something that looks important and informative." Harrian nodded to the others and, Haer'Dalis in tow, started towards the stairway in the corner that suggested it might lead to other, more useful parts of the building. "I imagine I'll know it when I see it."
"If the monks did indeed keep extensive records, that is," Haer'Dalis pointed out, his footsteps light as they reached the shade of the winding stone staircase leading upwards. "It may be a challenge to find anything… particular."
"They're monks. Besides, if there's one thing I'm familiar with, it's libraries." Harrian smirked a little, though he kept his hand on his sword-hilt as they headed up the stairs. The voice of the others, below them and in the great hall, had faded away by now, and it was really just Haer'Dalis and him. He wondered if there had been other monks, and if so, where they were - or had Balthazar always made shows of strength to suggest numbers, rather than truly holding those numbers?
The monastery was large and echoing, so the two of them took extra care to not make too much noise as they began their quiet search for the library. As it turned out, a mere two flights of stairs up, they found themselves faced with the large bookshelves of the monastery's library, dark and cool and the same as any other library Harrian had been in before, and he let out a long sigh of contentment.
"Though I sincerely doubt Balthazar would keep sensitive books on the Prophecies just out here for anyone - like us - to find. He should have a study about here. If he was as paranoid as any other Bhaalspawn - and I reckon he was more so - then he'll have the books kept somewhere… safer." Harrian glanced around, though despite his words he had begun to wander somewhat towards the rows, seeming much more relaxed in the shadow of the bookshelves.
Haer'Dalis paused at the end of one row, looking down the long line of shelves towards the far wall, a thoughtful expression on his face. "My raven… do you hear that?" His voice had dropped, and his eyes flickered over to an open door some ten metres away.
Harrian popped his head over a stack of books on the Tethyr Civil War. "Hear what?" Though he, recognising Haer'Dalis' skills, kept his voice low.
Then he heard it - the shuffling of paper and feet, hurried and frantic, coming from the far end of the library.
The two of them dashed forwards as quickly and quietly as possible - but it seemed not quietly enough, for as they approached the open door Haer'Dalis had noticed, a young monk stepped out, clutching a large, heavy book.
There was a long pause as the three of them stared at each other. The monk looked more surprised than anything at the appearance of the bard and Bhaalspawn, but he still clutched the book towards him protectively.
Harrian glanced down at it. Scraps of paper sticking out and a slightly ragged appearance suggested a handwritten volume. The exact sort of thing Balthazar might have used to record his knowledge of the Bhaalspawn.
He smiled broadly. "You want to give us that book, lad?" The words hadn't been meant to sound intimidating, but as he took a step forward with an outstretched hand, he realised that he'd heard that same tone on highwayman offering him a choice between poverty of wealth or poverty of life.
So it wasn't much of a surprise when the young monk bolted, dashing with astounding speed towards the left, heading for another small tower of stairs leading up.
It took Harrian a few long moments to realise what had happened, then he swore and took off in hot pursuit, hardly sparing a glance for Haer'Dalis. "Come on, bard!" he cursed, hurtling towards the stairs even as the monk had disappeared.
"My raven…" Haer'Dalis huffed slightly with surprise at the sudden speed, though was hot on Harrian's heels nevertheless. "What makes you think the youth has anything important we might be interested in?"
"Because he's running away with it!" Harrian swore yet again as he thought he saw some sandals disappear around the curve of the rising, twirling stairs. "He clearly doesn't want me to have it! And anything someone here doesn't want me to have… I want to have!"
