"…Or perhaps for those who can think for themselves and recognise the true enemy here." Garius said, concluding his speech.
"Bishop." Casavir growled, standing tall next to the Knight-Captain. The Ranger stepped forward from the shadows cast by an Ilefarn pillar where he had been watching and listening. He had done his best to stay out from under foot since coming to the ruins. Kept well out of the way while Garius had tortured Neeshka, the tiefling's screams echoing up the walls of the ritual chamber. But now he had no choice but to face it. Face her.
"My debt to you is over 'Knight-Captain'… And the strange thing is I'm a little sorry about it. For what its worth I almost kept going for you, right there until the end, but your uncle, it's hard to get past that part of it, even…" he took a deep breath "even with everything else." Blaming Duncan made it easier, less her fault.
"Don't do this Bishop." Linn Farlong, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep said, making it sound pleading and threatening in the way only she could. Bishop's former companions stared at him, faces pale in the eerie white light, showing mostly pity and disappointment, except for Casavir who glared with barely contained rage. When the fight started, Bishop would have to face him. That had been coming for a long time.
"I can't help it." he admitted "Getting tied down, even to a feeling for someone, just isn't my style."
It was true, both he and Linn knew it. She had given him the chance to be part of something meaningful and he had scorned her, unable to differentiate between friendship and a yoke. Bishop had forgotten he was moments away from a battle that would shape the history of the world. In fact, standing only a few feet away from her he had forgotten he was on the other side of that fight. Linn was staring at him, unblinking. She needed to hear what he had to say, he could see it in her eyes.
"The most frustrating thing about it is I was thinking it would be as easy to hate you as I did Duncan. But I don't… at all."
It was as close to an I love you as he could manage, especially in front of the paladin.
"But see, that's the reason it's going to end like this. I'm not going to be tied to anyone or anything again..."
Linn thought a moment before speaking.
"I understand Bishop, and for what it's worth, I forgive you." The words tumbled from her lips like a landslide. Bishop had not expected that. In all the times and ways he had played this conversation out in the dark of the ruins, the imaginary version of Linn had never forgiven him.
"Yeah, somehow I knew you'd say that. But it wasn't just about you; you just ended up being the most important part about it."
He lied, and he felt the need to hide it in the jumble of words that followed. He wasn't articulate like she and Casavir, but she understood what he was saying - she always did. She was important to him.
"Can you at least tell me why?"
"Oh go on Bishop, we have time. Our lord will be here soon, and then none of this matters." Garius interjected, content to savour every minute of his grandstanding.
Bishop ground his teeth and scowled at Garius. If he wanted to tell his little sob story, he didn't need permission. But he did want to tell her, so he took a breath and began to speak. He told her what he had wanted to tell her for so long. Ever since she first walked into the Sunken Flagon and changed the course of his life. Something in her green eyes and full lips had trapped him from the very first moment she walked in from the docks.
"You see, Duncan, he saved my life once. Found me outside my burning village, nothing but dead Luskan all around."
"Why would you blame Duncan for that?" Linn asked, confusion written on her face. She had taken a step towards Bishop, away from Casavir and the Silver Sword had fallen to her side.
"Thing is, I was the one who burned that place to the ground and I didn't want any witnesses. Then Duncan comes along, right when I was wounded, barely holding on, and I can't do anything to silence him. That's it really, nothing complicated, just settling debts that never should have been made."
It felt good to tell her, to make her see that it was all Duncan's fault he had betrayed her and their companions at the Keep. A man had to survive after all.
"But why did you burn your village down?" Linn asked, the sadness in her eyes turning to fear and revulsion.
"It was part of an initiation ceremony into a Luskan assassination squad, like ol' Lorne once was in. It's something they order all new recruits to do, whether they want to or not. And I don't care for that too much." he said matter-of-factly.
"You see, they order you to slaughter a Neverwinter village as part of the initiation ceremony. I decided to take care of two problems at once – and I chose my own."
"That makes no sense…" Linn mumbled, shaking her head.
It made sense to him, in convoluted way at least, and here, at the end of the journey, he felt the need to try and make her see.
"You see, for every West Harbour that gives rise to someone like you… someone great…there's a hundred of me that end up going down the other path. And my village…not worth talking about, it didn't even deserve to survive."
There was bile in his throat and a bitter taste in his mouth. Years of anger and fear were boiling inside him. She didn't flinch when he mentioned West Harbour, but he knew it would have hurt her, just as the memories of Redfallows Watch hurt him.
"So when they ordered me to destroy a village of my choosing I saw a chance to kill the Luskans and kill the place that helped make me the fine, upstanding man you see before you… all as a fortunate accident."
Linn looks like she had eaten something rotten and was deciding whether or not to spit it out.
"So what happened?" she asked.
"I was going to burn the village to try and kill the Luskans who were watching over me, it was a trap… but those villagers, those fools, they wouldn't leave when I told them. So they died too. I set a bunch of fires around the perimeter, let it all come circling in and they all burned like sheep trapped in a corral. I told them to leave, to run, but they wouldn't leave their houses especially when I told them… so they deserved to die right along with the Luskans watching me."
It had been their fault after all, Bishop knew that and he wanted Linn to see it. If they had listened to him, they would all be alive. His plan at the time had been to teach the Luskans a lesson, for taking him from his home and forging him into a weapon to be used at their discretion. He didn't like being a tool for someone else's designs. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't planned to survive that night, but he would have died free of Luskan's collar.
"Then Duncan showed up?" Linn prompted.
"I took a few arrows, had some wounds… and to be honest I wasn't sure I was going to get out of there at all. I was too weak to fight back, but it didn't matter because for the first time I felt all these chains come off me. I felt free at last… but then Duncan came along, right at the end, tying me to that place, tying me to Luskan… tying me to my past. He saved my life, then he said I owed him – in that stupid joking voice of his - but I knew what he meant; he was blackmailing me with what he knew. Then he called his debt due and that debt was to help you… And I had to do it, else he would have told everyone that I was at that village and then the Luskans would have come looking for me. I don't like obligations like that. Or obligations like you."
It had suited Duncan having a scary looking character in the corner of the Flagon, with a knife close at hand and a big wolf stalking the shadows. Folk were less inclined to start fights or break crockery when they thought it might cost them. Without his consent, he had owed Duncan a life-debt and the elf had been happy to take advantage.
"So you've changed one master for another?" Linn asked, going on the offensive for the first time in the conversation. The verbal jab hit him like a clip on the ear from his mother in his youth. It stung. She did know him, after all. Knew how to get under his skin.
"Say what you will, but after all this I'm free and clear. Whatever you say now, well, it really doesn't matter."
Garius, sensing Linn's motives cut in.
"Come now Bishop, let us be on with this, our master awaits."
There was a moment of silence as the echo of Garius' patronising words faded in the large chamber.
"Was that an order I heard, Bishop?" Linn asked, a grin emerging on her face. Bishop gritted his teeth again and the muscles in his jaw tensed.
"You watch it! I'm not anyone's lackey, not anymo-"
"I think we've heard enough from this Knight of Neverwinter… and from you…ranger. Now be silent." Garius cut him off before he could finish his retort.
The barked order hung heavy in the air like smoke, the reek of it filling his nostrils. Bishop turned away from Linn and looked up at Garius, eyebrows raised. For days he had lived in the ruins, surviving off moss and rats while the Reavers prepared to summon the King of Shadows. He had betrayed Linn and their – her – companions on the promise of freedom from obligation, power and vengeance for his broken heart. He would owe nothing to anyone. But behind all the promises, he was still just a henchman. No better than Lorne or any of Garius' other soldiers who had fallen under that silver blade. And, well, that just wouldn't stand.
"Is that so? Well in that case you can handle the Shard Bearer on your own. After all, you really don't need me, do you? I think it might be best if you stopped having people stand between you and the Knight-Captain here – Torio, Lorne, your Reaver friends… I'm not going to fight your battles."
Garius could barely contain his fury.
"You will die if you leave Bishop. I will come for you when I am done here."
"Garius, you're going to die if you stay."
Bishop could almost see the disbelief on the emotionless Reaver's face as he turned on his heels and walked to the chamber door. He let his eyes linger on Linn as he passed the group, unsure whether she was merely surprised or ever so slightly impressed. Casavir was staring daggers at him and Bishop allowed himself a small smile at the paladin as he passed. He was done with them, done with shards and shadows alike. No matter how many of his heartstrings she had plucked with her big eyes and cascading blonde hair, Bishop was content to leave the fate of the world to someone else.
As he rounded the doors he began to run. He didn't want to be anywhere near the ruins when the King of Shadows arrived and the final battle that Linn Farlong had been heading towards began. Garius would go after Linn's other companions, he was sure of it. Bishop had described them all, pointed out all the fractures in their motley group's morale and provided the code words to the bladed colossus that followed them all around. All that remained in that chamber was death.
Linn would win, he had little doubt, but Bishop was certain that Garius and the King of Shadows would not go down without a fight. As he rounded a corner he slowed to a jog, following the trail of corpses Linn had left behind as she and her party had hacked their way down to the bowls of the ruins. Alone in the dark and mazelike ruins, the minutes dripped by as he reached a dead end and was forced to double back the walls began to shake, dust falling from the ceiling.
"Great…" Bishop muttered, panic building in his stomach. He ditched his bow and quiver in favour of speed, trying to remember the route he had taken on the way in. At any other time he would have memorised the turns, but he had been distracted by his bruised ego and broken heart. In that moment, he missed Karnwyr, who had refused to set foot in the ruins with him. The wolf could have guided him to freedom, following the scent of fresh air.
Heart beating in his ears, Bishop pushed himself to run faster, skidding around corners as explosions echoed up from the tunnels behind him and dust fell from the roof. But Bishop could smell the air getting fresher as he ran, could feel the gloom lessening as he ran up a flight of ancient stairs. With each step closer to the surface he felt the weight of the chains hanging around his shoulders dissipate. He could almost hear the jingle of the metal links falling in his wake. By the time he reached the top, the walls were shaking with unearthly vigour, but he could see natural light at the end of the hall he was in. The tepid smell of the mere had never been so beautiful to him. Gathering all the strength that was left in him he pelted along the hall, arms over his head to protect himself from the rubble that had begun to fall. He wanted to leap for joy. He had done it, finally, he was tied to no man. He was free.
Then something tapped him on the head and he found himself prone against the cold stone. Only a second before he had been running but he could no longer feel his legs, or his arms for that matter. He could only taste copper in his mouth. In the dim light of the citadel entrance all Bishop could make out were chunks of what looked like bone scattered across the floor…