Throne Of Cards 29 – Courage
Everybody fears something, most of us more than one thing. And while we should try not to give in to our fears, it's usually a good idea to learn what we can from them. Of course, that doesn't mean we can't resent the whole educational experience.
Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'
Alone. That was the first thing Zaerini noticed, as she opened her eyes. She blinked in confusion, trying to clear her head. Her friends had been close by, she knew that, even as she stepped through the door marked 'Courage', but now she was alone. She was inside a small, cubical room, with perfectly smooth pristine white walls and floor. There was no door, no windows, and most importantly nobody else but her.
"Courage is a lonely thing," A voice spoke. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female, and it seemed to come from all directions at the same time. "Fears must be faced, and conquered, or at least traversed. That is something one must do alone. You may proceed when you are ready."
The half-elf hesitated, but only briefly. Clearly this was yet another of the labyrinths of Watcher's Keep, and as such there was no choice but to go forward. I hope the others are all right. But I can do nothing to help them from here.
With unease twisting her stomach, she stepped forward, and gently touched the wall with her fingers. It slid apart before her, forming a dark opening. She couldn't see what lay beyond, but the air felt cool, maybe a little damp, and there was an earthy smell. Fine, I'll 'proceed', but I won't do it blindly. Courage doesn't have to mean stupidity, does it? She briefly pondered summoning a witchlight to guide her, but decided against it – who knew what might be lurking behind that portal. She settled for a spell of invisibility instead, and stepped through as quietly as she could, bow at the ready. While she couldn't move as quietly as a trained rogue, she was still graceful enough that she could usually avoid making a lot of noise, and that seemed like a very good idea just now. Immediately after she entered the portal, it closed behind her, plunging her into complete darkness.
No, not quite complete darkness. There were patches of deeper shadow, and slices of lighter grey. The ground was uneven, but fairly soft, and there were little rustling sounds around her, one of them punctuated by a brief squeak. The air felt heavy, oppressive even, but she was definitely outdoors as impossible as that sounded.
A forest? Or is it just a really elaborate illusion? Either way, she figured she may as well head on. She wasn't really afraid of the dark, and that meant the real 'Test of Courage' had to be something else. Something worse. Worse than mindflayers and vampires and Elder Orbs, even worse than that puzzle with the platypus and the secret message. If I never have to dig through platypus droppings again, I'll really appreciate it. Helm, you really are a bit of a bastard, aren't you?
At least her elven heritage gave her pretty good night eyes, and now she was starting to get her bearings. It wasn't quite as dark as she had thought at first, that was mostly her eyes needing to adapt after the bright whiteness of the previous room. Also, there was something familiar about this place, it was as if her feet already knew where to take her.
Sounds, up ahead. Voices, one of them deep and forceful, booming like thunder, and so familiar. Another one, older, but still strong. That voice was also familiar. That voice which had soothed her to sleep so many times, told her stories to waken her love for song and tales, for adventure. That voice which had sometimes scolded, often comforted, and always, always shown her love. That voice which couldn't be here.
"Gorion," She whispered, her own voice no more than a choked whimper. "Father…"
She had reached the end of the trees now and was watching the clearing ahead. The scene was playing out exactly as she had known it would. There was Gorion, just as she remembered him, his shoulders slightly hunched but his stance determined as he faced his foes. His hair shone silver in the faint light, and he stood his ground against his formidable opponent. Sarevok towered over the old mage, terrifying in the spiky armor which hid his face almost entirely apart from his burning golden eyes, making him seem more monster than man. He snarled out his demand, and Gorion refused, determined to protect the young girl standing beside him, her face white with fear, her red hair looking almost black in the darkness.
I look so young. But it wasn't even that long ago…was it?
And the scene continued playing out, Sarevok and his cohorts attacking, Gorion shouting to her younger self to run, to get out of there. Gorion was alone now, alone against several, and one of those Sarevok.
No! I can't just stand and watch this! I don't care if it messes up the timestream or whatever, I have to help Gorion!
She ran forward, trying to remember if she had any spell memorized which could disable several attackers at once…and froze in place. Her feet seemed locked to the ground, her limbs moving as sluggishly as if she were underwater. She tried to shout, to draw Sarevok's attention away from her fosterfather, but no sound emerged. All she could do was watch, watch the scene she had been mercifully spared when it first occurred, watch helplessly without even being able to let out the scream that wanted to escape her. Gorion had a fair amount of magic at his disposal, but she could tell, now, that it wasn't as much as it had seemed back then, when she had thought him the mightiest mage in the world. He made the best of what he had, summoning fire bolts and acid arrows, slowing down his foes. He fought bravely, but he was facing Sarevok now, and Sarevok implacably walked forward, with such strength of purpose the earth seemed to tremble beneath his feet. She wanted to look away, to close her eyes, but she couldn't.
This happened because of me. I owe it to him to see the truth.
In the end, it was mercifully quick. Whether Sarevok had intended it that way, or it was simply a side-effect of his formidable strength and skill with a blade, she didn't know. She didn't much care either. There was blood, so much blood, and a horrible wound, but it was quick.
I'm so sorry, Gorion. This all happened because of who I am, and I wish I could have done more to stop it. I wish I could tell you that. I hope you're not too disappointed in me, like that horrible wraith.
Out there, in the clearing, Sarevok stood over the corpse of her father. But now the large man raised his head, seemingly sniffing the air like a hunting dog, and those burning eyes stared straight into hers, all the fires of the Abyss dancing within them.
"Sister…" Sarevok rumbled, his deep voice almost a purr. "I know you are out there, somewhere. I will find you, that I promise. The only question remaining is this. How many others will try to stand in my way, and fall because of you?"
As few as possible, brother. That's my promise.
The scene shifted, the forest blurring around her, fading away. For one moment, one brief moment of hoped, she dared to think it was all over, that she'd passed the test. But no, clearly Helm or whoever was behind this wasn't about to go that easy on her. Dust was stinging her eyes, making her cough, and her ears were ringing with the aftereffects of a thunderous explosion. There was a strong throbbing, deep within her bones, magic singing and beckoning, extremely powerful magic. It was magic she knew very well, and cold dread had her by the throat, making her gasp for air.
No, not this. Not this place, not him.
"You dare to attack me here? Do you even know whom you face?" The voice was calm, controlled, and cold as ice. The magic unleashed by it was anything but. Around her a group of men, Shadow Thieves in dark leathers, charged at the masked mage encased in layer upon layer of magical protections. None of them even came close enough to touch him. One man was wreathed in fire, screaming horribly as he charred and burned, another simply exploded, leaving nothing but tiny chunks of meat and a fine red mist in the air. Yet another was sucked into the ground as a chasm opened under his feet, and the earth trembled and shuddered for a brief while after it had closed above him, then went still. One man was petrified, frozen eternally as a stone statue, and one…liquefied, as all bones disintegrated and what remained of him sloshed about on the ground for a mercifully brief moment before it stopped trying to scream.
Zaerini also wanted to scream, not so much because of the horrors in front of her, but because of the horror she knew was coming. She was vaguely aware of her companions by her side, weary and staggering, bruised and bloody. Jaheira's eyes were dark with grief, even Minsc was looking exhausted, and Imoen…her best friend looked almost like a corpse, as if she wasn't entirely there.
No, this is the past, I know it is. Immy was all right in the end, we saved her.
But knowing that didn't help, not when she once again had to see the Cowled Wizards teleporting in like flies gathering on a rotten carcass, not when she had to see the terror on Imoen's face as they dragged her off, had to hear her calling out for help.
For me. And I couldn't help her, I was too weak to do anything. She suffered because of me, because of what Irenicus wanted from me. So did the others. Minsc and Dynaheir, Jaheira…Khalid. I couldn't stop it.
But those weren't the only ones, were they? No, of course they weren't. The thought crept up on her even before the scene changed again. She was kneeling, staring at a body on the floor. His face was so pale, his eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open, baring the sharp fangs. The stake had pierced his heart neatly, and his cherished red robes were a darker shade than normal, and so wet. She reached out, smoothing his hair back from his face, willing herself to go away, to not have to see this again.
Edwin.
Bodhi had stolen her love, stolen him because of her, killed him because of her, raised him as an undead to taunt her. So much suffering, because of her. Not because she wanted it, but because of her all the same.
She looked up, feeling herself trembling with grief and exhaustion. Her friends were there, trying in vain to comfort her. Dekaras was also sitting on the ground, looking back at her as he was being healed and she could see her own pain mirrored in his eyes.
Enough. Enough, Helm or whoever is doing this. What do you want from me? To admit I'm afraid of more people I love getting hurt because of me? Because I'm a Bhaalspawn? Well, I am. And I'm afraid of failing too, of getting them killed because I take a wrong turn somewhere, because I'm too weak or make some foolish mistake. And I'm afraid of losing them too, really afraid of that. Edwin especially…I can't live with losing him again. But what do you want me to do? I can't help that I'm a Bhaalspawn, with all that comes with it. I didn't ask for it and I can't just make it go away. I can't. I just try as hard as I can not to mess up and hope it'll be good enough.
And Zaerini blinked in surprise as bright white light nearly blinded her. She was back in that empty, pristine room once again, all the ghosts of the past gone back into the shadows.
"It will be," That strangely neutral voice spoke again, from everywhere and nowhere. "It is all anybody can do, mortal or immortal."
"What…you mean I'm done?"
"You have faced your fears, or an important one at least. You have courage enough to admit weakness and to advance despite it, when you have to. You may proceed."
"Oh. Great." She nervously ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it down a little. They were shaking a little, she noticed. There was another door in front of her now, and she hurried through it, almost stumbling in her eagerness to be done with this place.
Kitten! Her familiar's voice sounded unusually loud in her ears, but was a great relief, even more so when Softpaws leapt into her arms. You couldn't hear me the cat complained. Are you hurt?
Just…shook up. I'll be fine, I think.
She absently petted the cat, not sure if she was trying to soothe her familiar or herself. Both, she decided. The room she was standing in was empty, but before she had much time to worry over the fate of her friends there was a flash of light before her and Imoen appeared, shuddering with a mix of fear and revulsion.
"Rini?" She said. "Does turning into the Slayer really feel like all your bones are popping out of their sockets and melting?"
"Eh? Why…"
"I saw…or I mean I thought I saw…ugh I really, really don't ever want to do that. To be that. Never ever." The younger girl's eyes were wide, and her lower lip was trembling. "It was horrible. I wish we could make it all just go away. The whole Bhaalspawn mess."
"I know," Zaerini said, hugging her best friend close. "I do too." Then she startled as another flash of light nearly blinded her, and another, and another. The others were all appearing around her, from whatever personal hells they'd been through. Minsc was looking unusually serious, and immediately hurried to her side with a comment on how he 'wouldn't fail his Witch again'. Sarevok's face was a sickly almost beige colour and he said nothing at all, simply clutching at the hilt of his sword. Viconia made a brief and enigmatic comment about 'familiar faces in bad places' and then busied herself seeing to the others. Edwin hurried to take her hand and pull her close, and she worried about how cold his skin felt and the lost, hurt look in his eyes. Whatever it was he had seen; it was still affecting him. Dekaras was the last to appear, and the blank and absent look on his pale face made him look disturbingly like a ghost of a child.
"Hey," Imoen said, hurrying over to grasp him by the shoulder, and most likely to keep him from falling flat on his face as well. "Are you all right? Who am I kidding, none of us are right now."
"I will be," He insisted, but Rini noticed that he didn't protest when Imoen proceeded to give him a firm hug. "Soon."
It was at this point that Zaerini noticed the white stone pedestal slowly rising out of the floor. There was a very strange object sitting on top of it, a humanoid skull made of glass or crystal, with rubies nestled firmly in the eye sockets.
THE SKULL OF THE WARRIOR IS YOURS, HEROES, a deep voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere at once. AS A REWARD FOR FACING YOUR FEARS, YOU MAY PROCEED TO THE TEST OF SPIRIT.
"Well, isn't that just lovely," Edwin said in a voice that could have soured sugar. "Just what we were begging for at this particular point in time, another test. (If Helm turns out to have a secret identity as God of Torment, I won't be surprised.)"
"Hopefully this'll be the last one," Zaerini said, hoping she sounded more optimistic than she actually felt. "And then we'll just have to deal with the Imprisoned One, and after that we'll be all done. Maybe. I hope. And then we can find a temple to Helm, a proper one I mean, and throw rotten eggs on it for putting us through this. Sound good?"
The enthusiastic looks on her companions' faces were all the response she required.
