The War Council
The tables were moved to form a circle, only water and coconuts were served this time. All of them bathed, washed their clothes and armor from all traces of soot and made themselves presentable. Appearances were kept up, the feeling of artificiality hung in the air. This was no idle gossip by the campfire.
Daria waited for all of her friends to take seats and Imalia, the youngest and most curious of the inn-keepers, to sit comfortably, hidden behind the counter to eavesdrop. No harm would come to them by letting the young woman satisfy her curiosity, Daria checked. In a moment Jaheira would look up, gesturing the sun elf to speak. The diviner didn't give her this moment.
"We are going to stop the Bhaalspawn Wars, by killing those who want to use it to ascend. Then, we will disperse, suppress or bind Bhaal's essence, so he doesn't return." Her step-mother wanted to find a way that wouldn't end with Daria's death. And knowing her persistence, the elf didn't bet against that, even if she wasn't as optimistic.
"So, who do we need to kill?" Sarevok sneered. He was out of his cloak. What he didn't notice, was that his head was still periodically getting pink, turning from what could be mistaken for a blush to a full on sparkling pinkness and fading again. No one told him. He just pinked right now. Daria was impressed how her party managed to keep their faces stone, just to enjoy the spectacle a little longer. Anomen especially looked like a stalwart guard on a night watch, his expression completely blank. But vicious mirth shone in his eyes.
"There are two especially bad Bhaalspawn – by that I mean those most liable to kill innocents. You already saw Abazigal – the blue dragon that flew above the battlefield. He was scouting out, looking if he could fry someone not careful enough. And Sendai, a drow… well, mostly. Not important. She's has an enclave in the woods, filled to brim with poisonous spiders, assassins and… I would have to make a list. Basically, everything deadly that can survive in this climate. Before facing her, we'll have to make a detour to a bigger city and through the woods to gather herbs for antidotes. Jaheira, you'll be responsible for the gathering. That list I already made." Daria drew a pack of hastily scribbled scrolls. Then her eyes flashed with a particular mix of gold and silver. After a pause she added a few more items to the last scroll and underlined it. Jaheira eyed the result, doubts clearly written on her face. It contained a small fortune in ingredients.
"The bigger problem" Daria continued, oblivious to druidess' stare. "...is that Sendai is a sore loser. If she realizes she is going to die, she will do all in her power to take us with her. Including tipping off Abazigal as to the location of her hideout, so he could cave it in with us inside. Not very sporting, I know. On the other hand, Abazigal is much too stuck up for that. He's proud enough to believe in winning up to the very end. So that is why we will start with him. Observe..." Another scroll showed what looked like a kid's drawing of a map. Daria didn't wait for any comments on her drawing skills. "In Abazigal's lair, there are two more dragons, other than him. Draconis, guarding the entrance" she pointed. "His wife, Matilda – no, her name's not really that, but we'll call her Matilda, because I'm not going to pronounce Fll'Yise… Flyse… And Abazigal himself, deepest."
"Three blue dragons? We are doomed."
"We won't have to fight all three and they aren't all blue. First, we'll need a scroll to break a geas. Than a very long rope, a few potions to breathe underwater..." Daria began to drone on.
It took her more than an hour to explain all the details of the plan, answer all questions and make sure no point was missed.
And then Jaheira looked up, gesturing her to start speaking.
"I… We… are going to stop the Bhaalspawn Wars. By killing those who want to use it to ascend" lost and yet, knowing what to say, Daria started again. No one looked puzzled, no one said she was repeating herself.
But she said that, she clearly explained all that already! She didn't. She just remembered doing it, very vividly. It must have been a vision. Or maybe this was. She couldn't really tell anymore. She glanced at Xan, focusing on his heart-beat for a moment. Yes, this was the right time. She began to explain her plan again. Once again, describing every detail, answering every question. She tried not to leave out anything.
One more hour left her exhausted. How could memories exhaust a person? Daria almost drifted off again, losing focus on what was going on in the present. Sarevok was right, she needed to toughen up, if she hoped to survive this war.
'Your plan is to win it' she reminded herself. Then magnitude of the task hit her. No wonder she was losing her mind. What she was planning was basically equal to diecide. And her siblings were more powerful, more ruthless, more determined to take the Throne. They wouldn't hesitate in sacrificing thousands for their goal. She looked around the table, to her friends discussing her plan. Daria wouldn't stand to sacrifice anyone. What, with her weak will and even weaker sanity, could she place against a prophecy meant to drown a realm in blood? Not even the Bhaalspawn, mortals as her, but the power that lead them all to this point… What would outweigh that force?
It was natural she was losing focus… She was tired. And likely unstable. Saradush still screamed in her ears with thousands battle cries and dying gurgles, scotched earth trembling under giant feet charging, dragon's breath razing the land. She worked meticulously to etch each detail to her memory and now it was there with her, whenever she closed her eyes, playing out over and over, as she talked, worked and tried to rest. And now a new battle was looming in the horizon and she would have to do the same thing all over again, or watch her friends die.
She had in her only a little more struggle, a tiny bit of fight left. All she could do, was to take it one step at a time. She'd face Abazigal. If she survived, then Sendai… And then she'd let the fates resolve the War. Because she didn't want to be the one to decide who stays alive in the end, like in Saradush, sacrificing those inside, so her party would come out without a loss. Did her siblings love their companions like she did hers? They must have, in their own way. Abazigal cared for his son Draconis. Sendai must have had people she valued in her life as well. Sarevok did… The fact that you're evil doesn't mean you're heartless. And Daria didn't like the thought that she was a Sarevok in someone's story, killing his or her Gorion.
"Jaheira, today you'll take Minsc… and Solaufein with you back to the forest. Gather as much from the list as you can. Xan, we need to make a scroll to reverse a geas. Imoen?"
The blonde rolled her eyes. "Of course I'll help."
"Anomen, is there any chance you and Sarevok won't kill each other on a supply run? There's a desert town named Amkethran nearby..."
"Of course! This shall be no problem."
Were she not so tired, maybe Daria wouldn't miss the sly grin on her sister's face. As it was, she was completely unprepared.
The seed was sown, sandwiches were ready and three layers of camouflage, invisibility and antidetection spells hid Imoen perfectly among the sand and greens of the oasis. Normally this would be nowhere near enough against Daria – the moment the spells ended, and they would all end eventually, she would be open to be seen in a divination. And then spied back in time, a vision showing exactly when and what she did. But today, there was not going to be a trace left that Imoen was ever there. All the thief needed, was one precise moment.
She arranged it, seeing her sister going on a short walk to clear her head. There was some mess in there, from a new vision the thief missed, that meant the sun elf was less careful. Xan was sent by a bribed inn-owner, asking a strong hero of a man to get water from the oasis. The enchanter sighed and took the bucket. Now for their paths to collide…
They met by the edge of the water. Xan, ever the butt-hole, gave Daria a wide arc, as if she carried the plague. Not a problem. Imoen timed his steps perfectly, and in a well-placed swipe, tripped his leg, making the moon elf gracelessly stumble forward, straight into the woman he was so diligently avoiding, felling her like a log.
They landed with a loud 'thud' in a puff of dry desert sand. Imoen backed away behind a palm tree and took a sit in the shadows. She reached into her pocket for a sandwich. She was ready for a spectacle.
Xan went white. Daria was underneath him, her body cushioning his fall and for a second he hesitated from getting up. A moment later his brain caught up to the situation and he jumped away as if scalded.
"It was an…!" he stammered.
"Gods, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…!" the diviner began at the same time.
"Why are you apologizing? It was my fault! Are you hurt?" Xan's arms rebelled against him, reaching out to check on his friend, to make sure she was fine, but he reined them in, grasping at his sleeves.
"I'm fine, are you? I didn't see, I swear I didn't mean to touch you!" she cried, clearly distressed.
Xan's eyes widened. He repeated, more insistent this time.
"As I said, it was my fault..." The apologizing resumed. Imoen rolled her eyes. This was getting them nowhere. Seeing her sister was fully absorbed by the pointlessness of whose fault it was, the thief decided to risk it. She whispered, slipping a teensy little burden spell, just under Daria's defenses, targeting a shoe, rather than the elf. That usually fooled the most basic protections.
The diviner winced getting up.
"What's wrong?" Xan didn't miss it.
"My ankle feels weird. I think I'll need to show it to Jaheira after she returns."
"Do… you need…?" Xan let the question hang limply in the air.
"No, there's no need. I'm fine. I'll just… take my time" Imoen stifled a giggle, seeing her sister trying to lift up the heavy foot up, and giving up, resolving to drag it on the sand. Now perhaps they would get somewhere.
"Daria, please, if you'd just allow me..." the enchanter hovered around like a rainy cloud.
"I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt. You don't have to force yourself to..."
"I'm not forcing myself, I just need your permission..."
"I'm fi..."
"Please!" the enchanter finally broke. "I want to help! I just can't! Not unless you allow me to. So please..."
"Xan… We're not in Underdark anymore. You can… Xan?"
The enchanter hung his head. He took a deep breath.
There were two futures before him.
One where there was something to save between him and Daria, a chance. Where she still felt something, looking at him, despite the pain he caused. Where he had to take this smallest even chance. And where they were overdue a long conversation… Only he reasoned they already had it, in one of the many futures he was certain Daria saw. He guessed she didn't want to have it and that's why gave him no indication of wanting to talk. But then again, if he never gathered the courage to speak up, there was no future like that. Daria didn't know. She waited, as did he.
In the other future Imoen really outdid herself with this newest prank. Yes, it was devastating. Because the moment he spoke up would be one of the most awkward in his life. And Daria would once more have to explain to him, that they were over and while she didn't hold a grudge, he should keep such words to himself. Despite thinking of nothing else throughout the entire night, Xan couldn't determine which future was the one he would have to live through. If he spoke up – Daria knew and tried to avoid the awkwardness that would follow. If he didn't – he never did and would never find out if he had a chance. He had no visions, no future-sight to untangle this mess of probability and chance.
So, he had a half of a really small chance. Pathetically little. Should he take it? The choice was his. If he only had the courage… Ha! That was what he lacked from the very start.
"Do you mind if we talk for a moment?" A dark pit of fear opened in his stomach as the moon elf made his choice. He looked up. Daria looked at him puzzled, but nodded. He sighed. If she wasn't going to let him help her walk, he might as well make the spot more comfortable for a conversation. Trying to limit the theatrics to a strict minimum, he repurposed a summoning spell to cast a cooling shadow on the two of them, fashioned two wide benches crystallizing and reshaping the sand, so Daria could be comfortable with her hurting leg up. On a second thought he added an enchantment to prevent spying and eavesdropping. Imoen was still in the oasis after all. Only then, he took a sit.
Daria looked at him, her violet eyes centered only on him. There was seriousness in them and caring, she was impressed by the effort and worried. And in few more minutes he would know, whether he wanted or not, what more she felt. He swallowed. His tongue felt uncomfortably dry.
"I… have much to say, but I find none of it comes easily. Like a jar with a narrow mouth." He paused and checked if perhaps he had more resolve than those pathetic scraps he gathered up. Unfortunately not. He shifted his gaze to look at the oasis water surface. It shimmered in the sun, calm both on the surface and beneath. A feeling worthy of envy. "I suppose when we discuss this matters, we always begin in the abstract. After all, that's easier. To talk of you and I – that's difficult. But it is simple enough to say another thing, that has been the recent theme of my thoughts: I find I am not the man I once thought I was.
I once called you a child, didn't I?" Xan risked a glance. Daria smiled, but it was an unhappy, wistful smile. "And you are a child. My dear. But it was only my conceit to think that I was somehow… That I was not equally childish. Equally a fool" he kept talking. It was easier now. The words he prepared, waiting for her to wake up in Suldanessellar. All the soul-searching he did during the sleepless nights, all the pain he bottled up, it all mixed and overflowed, now finally free. It still hurt, but in no way was this a fresh pain. It grew into him, he almost didn't remember a life without it.
"You see, all my life, I fear I have not been entirely honest. I do not mean I have changed my mind about the essentials: you will not find me swinging daisy chains and singing songs in the fields. I still believe what I have always said: we are put on this floating ball of dust for no conceivable reason and we know nothing but we pretend to know it, and sometimes I suspect, that even the gods are as blind, as much a lot of fools as we are. I have believed these things since I was old enough to think."
He found a hand hesitantly slipping into his, with some measure of surprise. Daria seemed ready to pull back the second he showed any signs distress. He didn't know if he could – if he should – hold it. So he let it be there. "But perhaps, truth be told… I have often said one thing and done another."
"There is an elvish philosopher: an ancient, fearsome man. You would not know him. Even his name has been lost. But he has given us a saying to which certain of us, moon elves, secretly are felicitous: 'The strong man cares nothing for life.' And until this moment, I believed myself to be that man's disciple. You have always heard me say that life is hollow: that was another of his favorite themes. Do you understand me?" Strangely he didn't feel that afraid to look at Daria anymore. But fear only needed a moment to be back.
She squeezed his hand. "I am listening. Please, continue." Her voice was soft.
"If a man told you, then, that he cared nothing for life, would you expect him to cling to it like a demented miser to his purse? But that is exactly what I have done. If I truly believed, in my heart, that we are doomed, would I have seen fit to harp on the idea co ceaselessly?" He breathed out. With this breath he felt all tension, all anxiety leave him for one calm moment. He felt unburdened. He felt… almost good. "No – that's my secret. I am not a strong man. I am a great coward. If we are truly doomed, and life is truly as empty as I suspect, then there is nothing for it but to commit hopelessly to your arms forever." The moment passed. He saw Daria open her mouth – just surprised or to say something… and fear again grabbed him by the neck, fear that if he let this moment end, he would never again be able to speak to her like that. This was his last chance.
"But wait" he interrupted her. "I have not finished. Only a little, a little longer, I swear..." he begged. There was pity in her violet eyes. Daria didn't say a word.
"I have lived this sorry life expecting to die any moment – expecting everything I cared for to be torn from me at any moment. And much of it has. But now, we have come this far – so very far indeed – and I find that much of it has not. You are still with me. But I am not still… I am not still with you.
If I were a man of faith – I mean if I believed the gods took a greater part in our lives than I suspect they do – then I might be forced to conclude, that with their famously wicked sense of humor, they have resolved to teach me a lesson. I expect you to wilt like a flower – but there you stand before me. More powerful. More radiant. More – beautiful than ever. You have won many enemies – but many admirers as well. And I am among them..."
"You almost sound as if you loved me, Xan" Daria's voice was just a whisper, as if she wouldn't dare to say something like that out loud.
"I never stopped loving you. You knew that."
"I… did not" she answered, her eyes watering. And now he knew, this was the first future where his cowardice wasn't complete.
"Now perhaps my tedious argument reaches its theme at least. If I had believed life to be as hollow as that ancient philosophical tyrant had taught us, I would not have behaved as I did. But if I believed it to have – in your person, Daria – the slightest scrap of meaning – of joy – of hope for a better day – than to act as I did would not have been only folly. It would have been the foulest treason.
I have no cause to believe we will not lie in our graves tomorrow. I have no reason to believe there will ever be a recompense for this life of suffering. I have no reason to believe that there could be. But if there is – if there is..." He got winded by his own words now, losing the sense of what he was saying and yet knowing exactly what her wanted to say. "Daria. Let the past depart. Let the dead bury their dead. Let whatever was said be forgotten. Together we may stand or fall, but alone we are sure to fall. Hold me. Kiss me. Because I can't, I can't..." He reached to her, but even after all those words, after emptying his spirit from all that was dragging it down, this barrier was still between them, the line he couldn't cross…
It didn't exist for Daria. She threw her arms around him and he felt the warmth sink deep beneath his skin. A blade thrust into his heart that he welcomed dearly. He fiercely returned the embrace, the sun elf so warm in his arms.
"Then you understand me – or out of love, you are willing to pretend as if you do. Ha! What does it matter? Nothing I have said is of any value beside this embrace. This is all I care about. All in all."
Imoen couldn't listen in through Xan's spell, despite her best effort, but she felt she could leave now, satisfied. Daria would never find out this was a prank – a lame one, but a prank. Well, Imoen didn't know how else to tell her, this irritating sister of hers, that truly couldn't take care herself for one day and gods forbid tried to make someone else happy. Perhaps 'thanks for saving my life' would have been good too, but that was just too obvious.
