Chapter LVI: Darkness Rising
"Wait… my raven… wait." Haer'Dalis grabbed Harrian by the sleeve to slow him down as they continued their dash up the stairs. "You can see, there are no more floors up ahead. He is headed for the roof - we will have him cornered once he is there. We do not need to dash up and emerge all out of breath."
"Right… you're right." Harrian stopped, taking a few deep breaths. "But what's he running off to a dead-end for? That's just ridiculous. He might have something planned." He continued to walk up the steps, drawing the Daystar.
"True, but we did take the youth by surprise. I imagine he fled by whichever route was most obvious. But we should indeed be ready." Haer'Dalis had Chaos and Entropy in his hands as he followed Harrian on the way up.
As Harrian gingerly emerged from the alcove of the staircase tower onto the large, flat, sandy roof of the monastery, the monk's fist coming in from the side hit him in the face probably before the late-afternoon sunlight even did.
He hit the sandy floor with a thud, the Daystar sent spinning out of his grasp instantly, but hardly had time for the air to choke out of his lungs before a well-placed kick in his stomach sent him folding up with another groan.
It seemed this young monk had mostly been running to fight them on his own terms.
Haer'Dalis lunged forward, twin blades spinning defensively to make the monk think twice about trying to punch the bard, but every swing he attempted at his young opponent was ducked or dodged, despite the tiefling's impressive speed.
Harrian could only lie there, gasping for breath for a few long moments to recover his senses and some control. As his vision slowly stopped spinning, he rolled over unsteadily and achingly, and gingerly reached out for his sword, crawling towards where it lay a few feet away.
Then a sandal slammed down on the blade of the Daystar even as his hand curled around the hilt, and the monk - moving so fast in conjunction with Haer'Dalis that the two of them almost seemed to be dancing rather than fighting - spun around with a blow that hit Harrian on the temple and knocked him back down again.
Again the world span before him, and stars exploded in front of his eyes. His head struck the sandstone, hard, and the desire to just give up, let the darkness tugging at the edge of his vision take him, had to be fought off.
Haer'Dalis was still fighting, now trying to push the monk away from Harrian. The flashing swords meant the monk had to stay in motion to avoid the blades, and so the pair rapidly moved away, across the broad rooftop.
Harrian had to take a few long breaths to regain his bearings, finally irritated with the situation as he took a gulp from his water flask. He, Harrian Corias, hero of too many places he cared to mention and the man who was just on the brink of - he hoped - saving the day, was not going to be beaten by some soppy youth with a few quick punches and some fancy moves.
The monk and Haer'Dalis were approaching the far edge of the rooftop by now, towards the front of the monastery looking down on the town. The bard had been able to stay on the offensive, forcing his young opponent to keep moving back, towards the edge of the roof.
Harrian finally managed to haul himself to his feet, feeling his head spin. He reached over to retrieve the Daystar, his movements feeling heavy. As he bent down to lift the blade, he did notice, out of the corner of his eye, a heavy book lying by the side of the door. That had to have been what the little monk had been carrying with him.
He didn't stop to ponder this, however, as he straightened up to face the fight. Backed towards the edge, the monk had stopped retreating, and was now mostly batting Haer'Dalis' blades to one side - the bard had him mostly on the defensive, and Harrian was sure that, once he joined the fight, it would be over quickly. If he could just knock the monk out, avoid death if at all possible, even better.
But as he strode - running was still a bit much for his spinning head - towards the fight, the young monk clearly noticed him about to join the fray. And instead of batting away the next swing of Haer'Dalis' uncaringly, as he had until then, he simply shifted his weight to one side, causing Entropy to swish harmlessly through the air.
The next moves were almost quicker than Harrian could assimilate; the monk dropped, his feet swinging around under Haer'Dalis, and the next thing he knew it was the youth holding the blade at the neck of the bard, who was flat on his back looking up with the advantage suddenly gone.
"Wait!" Harrian lunged forward, the Daystar held now with plans to stop the monk by any means possible - and sparing his life suddenly shooting down the list of priorities.
But before the monk could swing down at the stunned and defenceless bard, there was a hissing heard in the air - and a spray of blood as a green-fletched arrow pierced his neck for a near-instant kill. The monk had hardly time to gurgle weakly before Entropy dropped from his grasp, and he slowly toppling over the edge and down towards the sand below.
Harrian darted forwards towards the edge as Haer'Dalis ruefully got to his feet, the Bhaalspawn's expression one of surprised glee. He wiped some of the spray of blood from his face, and scowled slightly as he resisted the urge to lick the back of his hand before looking down.
"Imoen! You took your time!" he shouted to the small group standing some twenty feet below them, on the sandy ground near the main front doors of the monastery beneath him.
The shape of Imoen, far below, gave an exaggerated waving motion. "The sun was in my eyes!" she hollered back. "And I couldn't choose what arrow to use!"
"No hurry there, my wildflower, clearly! Only my gullet was endangered, nothing too severe!" Haer'Dalis sounded wryly amused as he dusted himself off and sheathed Chaos, giving the body of the monk below them a cautious glance before retrieving Entropy.
Harrian couldn't see Anomen's face from there, but his posture suggested impatience. "We need to take Reynald back to the inn for rest!" And, indeed, although the fallen paladin was still upright, he was leaning heavily on Sarevok. "Did you find anything?"
"Er… hang on!" Harrian turned to Haer'Dalis. "What was that book?"
Haer'Dalis shrugged. "It is just by the door. I'll go… fetch it, my raven."
Harrian nodded, returning his gaze to the view before him as the tiefling headed off. Back at Candlekeep, he had always enjoyed climbing to the top of the keep, or the ramparts of protection, and watch the sea as it stretched as far as the eye could see - or the lush greenery beyond the walls, promising adventure. Heights had always intoxicated rather than scared him, and after the heavy days before and promise of heavier days to come, he allowed himself a small moment to admire the view, taking a deep, contented breath.
"It really is quite something, isn't it," he commented as he heard Haer'Dalis' footsteps approaching from behind. "The view. We never do stop to stand and stare at the world around us enough." Harrian shook his head, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he continued to take in the desert view. "What's the book?"
There was a small rustling of pages from behind him as Haer'Dalis presumably checked. "'The Lords of Waterdeep'. I am sorry, my raven."
Harrian shrugged, his gaze still on the horizon. "Ah, well. I suppose the boy was just trying to lure us somewhere he could beat us. I'm sure there's something in the library, and…"
"No, my raven." Haer'Dalis sounded, for one of the first times ever, deeply serious. And, almost… was it… regretful? "You do not understand. I am sorry."
Harrian frowned. "For what?"
Then Chaos exploded through his chest.
Pain, insane pain, unlike anything he'd ever known ran through him, combined with a shock that sent him rigid. All he could do for the long, painful moments as the blood trickled out of him, through the gaping wound that suddenly made even thinking insanely agonising, was stare down at the sword blade, crimson with his own blood, sticking out of him.
Then Haer'Dalis' voice, close and murmuring in his ear. "Know peace, my raven." And, indeed, he sounded deeply sincere - though Harrian could hardly process this at that time.
"…what?" But speaking hurt even more, and his voice sounded more like a croak even to his own ears - which were now filled with an odd noise of the roaring of air.
Then pain, again, and freedom, and a shove forward - then he was falling, plummeting towards the ground, the sand and rocks rushing towards him. He had hardly a moment to process the insanely liberating feeling of the air rushing around him before he met the ground.
Then there was more pain, and a sickening crunch that he knew had to be his own body, and all he could see was the sky. Attempting to move stopped hurting, though, because he didn't think he could move, and he could still feel the blood trickling out of him, painting the sand red with death.
Even through the roaring in his ears he could hear shouts, and screams, and footsteps, but it was all sounding very far away - though he knew the party were only a few feet from him. A shadow fell over him, but he could only look up numbly as Jaheira knelt before him, her eyes wide and shocked and full of more fear than he'd ever seen in her before. He wanted to reach out for her, hold her, tell her everything was alright, but the very notion would have been laughable had it not hurt so much.
"Harrian… you…" Her hands came down, first to the wound in his chest he knew had to be ugly, then up to his face. They were a warrior's hands, a healer's hands, a protector's hands, and now they were shaking seemingly uncontrollably.
"Heh… 'watch your back'…" The pieces came together in his head, but there was a pause as his throat rasped in protest at the attempt to speak, and he coughed. That hurt, and it brought up blood too, thick in his mouth. He managed to swallow weakly before trying to speak again, but Jaheira had already straightened up, her attention back on the party.
"Anomen! I don't have any more healing!" Her voice was bordering on hysterical now, and her hands shook as she attempted to detach one of the potions from her belt. It was a rather small potion, Harrian mused, for some rather large pain.
"No… it's… alright." Speaking hurt. Definitely. But even though he could feel the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision, could feel the pain numbing in a way which was more worrying than reassuring, he knew he had to press on. "Don't worry… it'll all… be alright."
He wasn't talking about himself, and he knew she would understand this. That said, he couldn't even see how it might all be alright - and yet, at the same time, there was a feeling of peace within him letting him know that it would be.
Jaheira's eyes ran over him, evaluating, knowing, grieving. "Harrian…" Then she lowered her head to press her lips against his, and even though that, too, hurt like the blazes he wouldn't dream of asking her to stop. "I love you."
The words exploded in his chest like the stab in the back had, only this time more painfully. "Yeah… figured." He would have shrugged, if he could, and he forced himself to smile - that bright, infuriating smile he knew annoyed her to the hells and that he knew he would have to muster one last time.
Because the darkness was creeping in more around the edge of his vision, and he was keenly aware time was short. But despite the pain, despite the blazing impending death, despite the agony with every thought running through his head, he felt… peaceful? He wasn't sure why. It wasn't peace at death. That wasn't something he was particularly looking forward to.
Then realisation blossomed, and the smile softened, genuinely. "Jaheira…" He met her gaze at last, knowing and serene in a sharp contrast with her fear and pain. "I… I can't hear him any more. He's gone."
Then he lay his head back as the darkness rushed in, and Harrian Corias closed his eyes for the last time - free, at last, from the whisperings of the taint of Bhaal.
