Love. Perhaps it was surprising given all that had happened to her in the Cloud Peaks, but there was no mistaking how Arowan looked at the mountain range. This one they were climbing was taller than the ones they had scaled before, it's snowy peak disappearing into the cloud line. Fortunately, the temple was only partway up according to Hammerhelm's map.
The moment they began to ascend her demeanour brightened. She launched into the trek with such eagerness that only Rasaad was able to keep up with her. The breeze was crisp against her cheeks and with every step the air tasted fresher and cleaner. It took a while for her to look away from the treetops and the distant snowy peak long enough to realise that she was alone with the monk. It certainly wasn't by design.
"So. We are here again," he said. A deep shadow had fallen over Rasaad's eyes. The last time he had ascended the Cloud Peak mountains it had been for the same purpose. To seek vengeance on the Dark Moon Cult for the death of his brother Gamaz. It had ended disastrously when his brother had turned out to be alive and leading the monks himself.
"A different mountain, a different time!" Arowan laughed gaily. Altitude agreed with her. "But we have lost the others. I had best carry Viconia's pack or it will take us all week to reach your temple."
"You would carry Viconia's pack?" Rasaad asked, touched by the Ilmatari's generosity.
"I think I could carry everybody's pack!" she laughed, almost skipping back down the mountain. "Don't you just feel so alive up here?"
She gambolled back down the slopes as naturally as a mountain goat. Rasaad could not quite figure out how she was doing it. Though he could keep pace with her, he was not finding it nearly so easy as she was. The Twofold had chosen a deliberately inaccessible spot for their base. It was up a treacherous path of slippery mud and loose stones. Some of it required climbing short distances. While this posed only a modest challenge for your average monk, it would be enough to keep the rank and file Sharrans out. Or at least ensure that they reached the temple too fatigued to battle.
"You are too kind. I fear that it will not be appreciated," he said regretfully. "I should be the one to carry Viconia's pack."
Arowan paused, looked back at him and said light-heartedly; "I fear you will not be able to. You will have your hands full with a heavier load."
"What is that?" he puzzled.
"Viconia herself of course! You'll have to carry her. Have you completely forgotten what hiking with her was like last time? Those mountains weren't a third of the size!" the ranger reminded him. "Just be grateful we don't have Xan with us anymore. We'd have to take an elf each."
"Nobody ever seems to mention Xan. Do you not find that odd? We travelled together for so long," Rasaad mused.
The ranger was only semi-listening. They reached one of the sheer rock faces which was a good twenty foot above the next level. He was just deciding whether to climb or risk sliding down a point of shallower incline, when she ran past him and jumped into the branches of a tree growing up the side. She paused there for a moment, enjoying her vantage point. Before her the peaks of the mountains spread out. One vast, inviting wilderness.
"Did Viconia ever really care for him do you think?" the monk frowned.
"Who, Xan?" Arowan asked mildly, without looking back. "Hmm, let me think… Don't know, don't care. How about that?"
Rasaad found that he cared a great deal. He was not sure that the Sharran was capable of love, at least not as a 'surface male' would understand it. It made him wonder whether she had truly felt something for Xan rather than cultivating him as a useful ally. Was it a fair question to ask Arowan? Or was he merely a moth, drawn to Viconia's flame, and asking for impossible reassurance that he would not be burnt.
"Arowan, about the other night at the amphitheatre?"
"Unless you're about to tell me that Brother Kelner revealed unto you the most holy text of the Twofold cookbook then I say again; I don't care."
He got the impression that she really didn't. It bothered him. It also bothered him that it bothered him. Not only was he out of love, but after locking lips with Viconia, he had a horrible suspicion that Arowan was right. Perhaps he'd never truly loved her in the first place. It wasn't his fault. Until now he hadn't understood what love was. Yet he still felt guilty about it.
So why was he not happy for her? He knew he ought to be and was trying to force himself to rejoice in her contentedness. Only the apparent ease with which she had put him aside and moved on, in spite of everything they had been through together, was hard to wrap his head around. Nothing in Faerun would ever induce him to take her back but seeing her with another man felt strange and jarring. He knew that it was unreasonable, and he did not want to feel that way about it.
What made it worse was that he was sure her own attitude was equally selfish. Only she was free to display her hostility openly, because she and Viconia hated each other independently of him. Whereas he had no legitimate gripe with Yoshimo. When the letter they'd taken from him had turned out to be nothing more than a note from his parents, Rasaad had been disappointed. Part of him had wanted Yoshimo to be a traitor. Because part of him did not want his former flame to be happy without him.
It was a despicable way to feel, and Rasaad resolved to change it.
"I hope that you do not believe that I have truly turned from Selune's light," he began.
"Still don't care."
The ranger was now leaping lightly from rock to rock to avoid the deepest swathes of slippery mud. She was not making it easy to be happy for her. Rasaad steeled himself, took a deep breath and tried civility one last time.
"When we reach the temple, we will finally confront Alorgoth," he said seriously. "You were a prisoner of the Dark Moon briefly, and have almost as much right to vengeance as I do. How best do we approach this?"
Arowan turned to him. It was rare that she met his eyes these days, but she did so now. He could tell at once that her cheeriness had not predisposed her to be any more friendly toward him. Only the form of her hostility had shifted from anger to mockery.
"Rasaad, there is more at stake here than Alorgoth!" she declared, dramatically. "We mustn't let vengeance distract us from what is really important."
"If you were thinking of finishing that sentence with the words 'Brother Kelner's bake sale,' I strongly suggest that you reconsider," the monk said, his eyes narrowing.
So Arowan said nothing and they met the rest of the party climbing up the other way. Just as the ranger had predicted, Viconia was in a poor state. She was complaining piteously every step of the way. Both about the climb itself and their reasons for being there. In the end Arowan took her pack and Anomen took Rasaad's so that he could piggyback the drow.
"You'd think she would thank him," Anomen whispered an hour later. Rasaad was breathless with the effort of hauling her up the mountain, but it seemed to him that Viconia must be even more out of puff. For she had complained so constantly that it was difficult to imagine how she found time to breathe.
"Thank him? He should be grateful that she does not have spurs, a whip and a bit to put in his mouth," Yoshimo replied.
At that moment there was a flash of lightening. A strange darkness descended about them like an eclipse of the sun. Only with a druid, a ranger and a monk obsessed with celestial movements in their party, they would have known if such an event were due. More bolts of lightening rocked threateningly in the trees. They were loud, but not loud enough to be natural thunder.
Sure enough four robed figures appeared surrounding them. In another flash the illusion of robes was dispelled to reveal four monks. Yoshimo pulled on Arowan's arm urgently and pointed to a young shaven headed woman with a crescent nose piercing.
"That is Treya!" he said, "One of the Selunites we met in Trademeet."
Immediately he drew his katana and she notched a fire arrow. These were the same monks who had visited the burial site of the best known Selunite in the Sword Coast, and erected an expensive monument over it. If Safana had talked and the secret was out that Freya's grave was empty…
"Stand aside ma'am!" the monk's leader commanded. "The Tears of Selune have no quarrel with you! We seek the heretic, Rasaad yn Bashir!"
Yoshimo and Arowan looked at each other dumbfounded. Then back at the angry monk. She had very large, piercing eyes, high cheek bones and unlike the others her face was free from tattoos. What's more, she was staring at Rasaad with an expression of wild hatred. From her fighting stance, a fight to the death appeared to be on the cards.
"Oh, well. In that case," Arowan began lowering her bow.
"Apologies for the misunderstanding my friends," Yoshimo said hastily replacing his katana. "We thought you were here about something else."
"Sorry to slow you down," added Arowan, snuffing the fire arrow and stepping out of the way.
Both Rasaad and the new monk gave them a look as if to say, 'really?' Viconia slipped down from his back, acutely aware that she was wearing the symbols of Shar. The four monks closed in on them menacingly.
"Rasaad yn Bashir! We have found you at last!"
"Sixscar," he replied evenly.
"So, this is the one is it?" she demanded, pointing at Viconia. Her voice was shaking with suppressed emotion. "I did not believe it, not until I saw it with my own eyes. How could you betray Selune to defile yourself with a servant of Shar?"
"I have not betrayed Selune!" Rasaad cried. "These things you say, Sixscar! The Moonmaiden is everything to me. You know this!"
"Please monk, I beg you," Viconia groaned, "Spare us the whimpering adoration of your limp and tiresome goddess."
Arowan screwed her eyes closed and inhaled sharply. Everyone stared at her.
"Wish fulfilment!" sighed the ranger. She had been secretly dying to say something like that about Selune every time the monk brought her up for over a year. "Praise be Ilmater. Sorry, ignore me. Carry on."
"It is well known, Rasaad, that you have embraced the Dark Moon heresy!" Six Scar accused him. "You even went so far as to attack those sent from the temple to collect you."
"But he did not kill them," Jaheira said, attempting as party leader to bring some calm to the situation. Sixscar was still glaring but Treya and the other two looked doubtful. "Rasaad has not turned his back on the Sun Soul."
The woman with the crescent moon on her nose stepped forward, tentatively. It was unfortunate that the positioning of the piercing caused it to hang over the rim of her nostril. From the wrong angle it made it look as though she was in need of a tissue.
"It's true, he could have slain us but he stayed his hand. Perhaps the druid is right Sixscar," Treya ventured. "Rasaad was the best of us once."
"A sadder claim for the Sun Soul, I cannot imagine," Viconia chimed in acidly.
"If he is still truly one of us," Sixscar said, with a cruel gleam of triumph in her eye, "Then he can prove it by helping us silence this Nightsinger."
In the artificial darkness, she performed an elaborate series of spins and kicks. While very impressive, they did not serve to do any actual damage. Sixscar was more agile than Rasaad, but her strikes had more elegance than power. Viconia watched her little dance with a decidedly underwhelmed expression.
"I cannot let you do this. I beg you, do not force me to harm you," Rasaad said.
"Defending a cleric of Shar! I told you he was a traitor!" screamed Sixscar. Her fury seemed to be carrying her beyond all reason. The other monks appeared torn.
"Why are you harbouring this drow, Rasaad?" Treya asked him helplessly. "I do not want to believe that you have turned on us, but you were carrying her on your back when we got here. It is pretty damning however you look at it. I cannot see what possible explanation there could be."
"She is the Servant of all Faiths," a heavy voice replied.
It was Arowan who had spoken. Her bow was drawn back once more. No matter how much she might like to, she could not stand aside and let them pummel Viconia. Ur-Gothoz's vision for the future must never be allowed to come true. Not long ago she would have died herself before slaying a monk of the Sun Soul. Yet compared to what had happened with Mazzy Fentan, suddenly putting an arrow through Sixscar's heart did not seem so extreme. At least this woman actually had malicious intent.
"No!" one of the other monks breathed. "The Servant of all Faiths, a Sharran? A drow? That is not possible."
"It is true, I swear it," Rasaad replied.
"Treya?" Sixscar barked, "You have had a vision yourself, have you not? Could she be the one?"
"I don't know," Treya confessed. "All we saw is that the Chosen One will be a woman, who acts on the authority of all the gods, and will save us all from ruin. None of us blessed with the visions have seen her but we have felt her presence. She is not of divine heritage. That is how we knew it could not be Freya Silvershield or Caelar Argent as so many believed. It could be this drow, but why would you trust her?"
So they explained, in as much detail as they could, the evidence that all of them had witnessed since Caelar's crusade began. The statue of Cyric crushing his own priestess and the defeat of Tazok the ogre. Rasaad described how gods of all alignments had interceded to prevent the Blackguard Dorn Il-Khan from murdering her. By the time they had finished their tale, three of the monks were convinced. Sixscar, however, wasn't budging.
"I don't believe it!" she declared brazenly.
"Freya did," Jaheira said quietly. "That woman you're building a statue to back in Trademeet. She swore to protect Viconia, and her last act before being taken to her death was to free the Servant of all Faiths from their captors."
"If you were involved in Freya's death then you are triply condemned!" Sixscar cried, her voice rising hysterically. "First as a murderess, second as a drow and third as a follower of Shar! Any one alone would be enough to sentence you to death and I do so now!"
With that she split away from the others and charged at Viconia. Rasaad tackled her, looping his leg behind her knee to send her crashing down. She sprang up and tried again, and again he knocked her off her feet. They repeated this several times, for he seemed unable to bring himself to do her any real harm. Sixscar took advantage of this to keep getting up. Each time she landed a blow or two on Rasaad before she fell, wearing him down.
Anomen was hesitating, reluctant to use his sword on an unarmed woman. Though since the strength of the monks depended more on the extent of Selune's blessing than on their natural attributes, Sixscar's physical power far exceeded that of an average man. Even if she was not on a par with Rasaad. Viconia had no such scruples. Her flaming sword was readied, and eventually Sixscar won her opening. She landed a powerful series of kicks to Rasaad's chest, knocking him over, and sprang nimbly toward Viconia.
All of a sudden, there was a twang and she stopped dead. Blood splattered over the ground before her, alongside fragments of bone. Sixscar screamed in agony, and looked down to see a fire arrow emerging from her scorched kneecap. No ordinary bow could have shattered a joint so thoroughly, but the one Arowan had stolen from Corwin was more akin to a siege weapon.
"No!" Rasaad cried, but it was too late. There was a flash of fire and a horrific stench of burning pork. Viconia had fallen upon her stricken assailant with her flaming sword, impaling Sixscar from neck to gut.
Arowan screwed her eyes tight. She had known what would happen if she incapacitated the female monk. Which made it her fault, regardless of whether Viconia struck the killing blow. Yet she remained in denial, as she had with Mazzy, telling herself over and over that she was not responsible.
With Sixscar's death, the spell controlling the weather lifted, and the woods grew light once more. Somehow, this brought the other monks to their senses. Treya's companions lifted the body of Sixscar and began the slow, difficult journey home. It seemed unlikely that such a fiery internal injury could be repaired by clerics. They were taking her back for burial.
"Another of our Order fallen," Treya said solemnly. "Whatever you are seeking, Rasaad, I hope that it is worth it."
Late in the morning, their destination appeared around a bend in the path. A chunk of the mountain had been carved away to leave a plateau midway up. It was as though a god had descended from the heavens and taken a bite out of the mountain only much tidier. Cascading over the exposed rock was a waterfall, which pooled in a circular moat about the temple itself before draining over the edge.
The Twofold temple was accessible by a stone bridge stretching across the moat. It was round with the upper level slightly smaller than the lower level, giving it the appearance of a layer cake. It boasted a large landscaped garden complete with menagerie, rockery and gazebo. In the distance animals were roaring.
"Rasaad?" Arowan asked, "How long exactly has the Twofold Cult existed?"
"Nobody knows precisely. It is secretive in nature."
"Ballpark me," she said dryly.
"A few months, maybe a year," Rasaad replied. "Why?"
"Ok," she said, "So whose temple do we think this was originally?" The monk looked at her blankly, and she rolled her eyes. "Mum, I can't be bothered. You explain."
"I see what you mean," Jaheira nodded to her. "Some serious terraforming went into building this. How did they get so much marble up that mountain path? This thing was not built in a year, it has been here a for while. The cult must have taken it over from someone else."
"I smell paint," Anomen said. "Look how white the walls are. Whatever was inscribed on them before they've plastered and painted over it."
"Whoever the old owners were, they were rich," Jaheira observed. "The labour it must have taken to dig this into the mountain itself. It would take a hundred ogres decades."
"Amaunator?" Arowan suggested.
"No," Anomen shook his head. "Look, the temple is facing East. It is in full sunlight now, but after noon the sun will disappear behind the mountain and plunge it into darkness for the rest of the day. The temples of Amaunator may have been buried over time, but when they were new, they were designed to catch as much light as possible." He sighed. "So many lectures from Keldorn after we found those ruins in Athkatla. So many hours of my life that I will never claim back."
It was old then, but not so long disused that it had suffered any structural damage. It had been built by a rich and powerful faith. Who for some reason had abandoned it for the Twofold to take residence in… and the cultists had no fear of the former owners coming back.
Jaheira had a creeping suspicion that she knew whose temple this was, but there was no sense upsetting Arowan with the knowledge until she was sure.
As they approached the bridge leading over the moat they met a distressed woman striding the other way. She was in so much of a hurry that she almost bowled into them in her hurry to escape. Her eye was so swollen that she could barely see out of it and bruises covered her. Her shaven crown gave her away as a monk, but she was crying as she walked.
"Wait!" called Arowan, fearing the worst. "We can heal you."
Desperate though she was to be away, it was a long way back down the mountain with injuries like hers. The woman sat down on a rock, while Jaheira and Anomen got to work on her wounds. Seeing that she was a former Sharran, Viconia simply snarled and refused to help.
"What happened to you?" Rasaad asked.
There was judgement in his voice. Arowan shot him a filthy look. She had noticed that this woman hadn't so much as a packed lunch on her person. Hastily she was giving her one of their tents while Yoshimo put together some food and water for her. It would mean that they'd have to share their berth from now on. What a shame. Ilmatari's duty.
"I failed to prove my worth to the Twofold goddess," the woman spat back bitterly. "That's what happened to me. I endured three beatings in the Room of Pain, but the fourth broke me."
Despite being pressed, she would reveal little more. As soon as she was healed she thanked them abruptly for the healing and provisions, then fled down the mountain.
"I hope she's going to be alright," Arowan frowned after her. Then she looked ahead to the temple. "I hope we're going to be alright."
"I will endure the Room of Pain, or whatever else I must to bring me closer to Alorgoth," Rasaad said without hesitation.
The beaten monk they had met was not the only one fleeing the temple. Close to the bridge, a pack of wolves in equally bad shape were closing in on a spotty golden cat. From the scrambled paw prints, it appeared that they had all escaped the temple grounds together, but now the battered, hungry pack had an opportunity to eat. The cat hissed in fear and rage, flattening his ears against his head to resemble a large snake.
Jaheira summoned vines to wrap about the ankles of the wolves, allowing the jaguar time to bound away. These wolves had been starved, however, too much so to simply give up on meat. They turned their grey snouts toward the party.
The Twofold had placed a single guard on the bridge. He was not the same young man who had challenged them at the amphitheatre but he looked and sounded so similar that he might as well have been. It seemed that he had no interest in recapturing the beasts. Instead he watched on with mild interest. What was odd about this was, judging by his tattoos, he had come from a sect of Selune's followers and not Shar. Yet he seemed callously indifferent to the animal's plight and theirs.
As the enchanted vines receded and the wolves came at them, Arowan raised her bow, but found herself unable to fire. It was as though she was rewatching the last moment of Khalid's life. The largest wolf leapt at Jaheira, jaws wide, but the ranger froze, paralysed. She was as helpless to act as she had been the first time around, watching her werewolf half-sister tearing at her father's face.
She did not notice another wolf pouncing on her from the side. Fortunately, Viconia did. There was that familiar smell of singed meat, a flash of very bright light and a heavy thud as the wolf hit the ground. Arowan jolted out of her trance and turned in shock to see the drow standing beside her, flaming sword in hand.
"What is the matter with you, rivvil?" she snapped.
All around her, her party were fighting the wolves. Unlike Khalid, Jaheira was not being chewed on alive, but fending the creature off easily with her staff. The ranger smacked herself and tried to get a grip. It was not the Bitch of Baldur's Gate, it was an ordinary, common wolf. What was the matter with her? Arowan lifted her bow again and started picking off the remaining wolves while they were preoccupied with her party.
She still didn't feel quite right though.
"A shame we did not get that spotted lion," Viconia remarked regretfully. "It had exquisite fur. Has it gone far, do you suppose?"
"Spotted lion? It's a jaguar!" Jaheira retorted, "And unfortunately you are not the only one who thinks so. The poor beasts have been hunted for their fur almost to the point of extinction. We are not skinning this one to make you a pair of-"
"Can we please stop talking about skinning things?" Arowan asked suddenly in a very shrill voice. She was looking at the dead wolves and shaking. Then without warning, she lurched sideways and vomited over the edge of the ravine.
Yoshimo caught her, and sat her down with her back to a tree trunk. He looked anxious. The three healers quickly gathered around her while Rasaad went to give the password to the guard on the bridge.
"I'm fine now. I'm fine," she kept saying. "It was just the wolves, it brought it all back. Irenicus's dungeon and the way Dad died." She stopped short and looked up at Jaheira, apologetic for bringing it up. "I'm fine," she repeated. "I'm ok. Let's get moving before the monks start asking questions."
Rasaad was waiting for them on the bridge, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the Twofold Temple. The others eyed it with apprehension. Nobody else was as sanguine as he seemed to be about this whole "Room of Pain" business.
"Are you going to get around to thanking me at some point? For saving you from the wolf?" Viconia asked smugly.
"I don't know Viconia," replied the ranger, "Are you going to thank me for saving you from Sixscar?"
"Why should I? If you hadn't done it, one of the others would."
"I could say the same about the wolf."
"Very well," said Viconia, who loathed the idea of being indebted to Arowan. "So we are even then?"
"No, we are not even! I prevented Sixscar from striking you, and you repaid me by slaughtering her needlessly," the ranger bristled. "Tell me Viconia, have you ever considered that maybe you're the Great Evil? Maybe your purpose as the Servant of all Faiths is to rid the world of it by drowning yourself in that moat? I think you should try it and see."
"She wouldn't be the first person to drown in that moat," Jaheira said darkly. "Look."
The party moved to the side of the bridge and peered over into the water's depths. The ripples and bubbles from the mountain waterfall distorted their view of the bottom, but perhaps it was just as well. Grinning up at them were skeletons. Lots of them. As they moved slowly over the bridge, they realised that there must be hundreds of bodies, all picked clean by fish.
"The Twofold didn't do this," Rasaad said slowly.
"Hey, what's that?" Anomen asked, pointing. Something metal was glinting a few feet away, just below the surface of the water. Yoshimo, who was the closest person they had to an expert on mechanical contraptions, leaned over the side for a better view.
"It's a water pump," he said finally. "The mechanism for a fountain. A big one."
"That fountain would have turned red with blood after every mass sacrifice," Jaheira said, for she was sure now who this old temple must originally have belonged to. "The lake becomes the droplets, and the droplets become the lake."
"I don't understand," admitted Anomen.
"On the way to Dragonspear Castle, Freya stumbled across a former temple of Bhaal," Jaheira explained. "Like this one, it had been taken over by new tenants, but some of his legacy remained. We learned that Bhaal divested his power into hundreds of children. He is the lake, they are the droplets. The plan was to return them all to the lake by sacrificing them once the Time of Troubles had come to an end. Bhaal would then return. The metaphor became something of an obsession to them in the final years of the cult."
"Forget the rebirth of Bhaal," Rasaad said, glaring intently at the temple. "His followers may have built this place, but it is Alorgoth's cult who infest it now. Leave the dead to lie and let us deal with my brother's killer once and for all."
