Chapter Twenty-One
Hey, hey, hey. Did they let you out, Elbereth?
Nire? You can speak mind-to-mind? Where *are* you?
Same place I met you last time. Why? What-
Before she could complete the thought, Elbereth, in wolf form, appeared before her. She resisted the urge to pet his silky fur, even as he changed to elven form. His eyes were blazing with anger and… relief? What reason did he have to be relieved?
"Where in the Nine Hells did you go?"
He grabbed her shoulders, intent on shaking some sense into her. At least, he tried to grab her. As soon as his hands shot out, Nire's hands mirrored his actions and grabbed his wrists. She jerked him forward, kicking out the back of his knees. When he landed face-first on the ground, she straddled him, twisting one of his arms behind his back. He could feel cold steel against the back of his neck.
"I'll warn you once," Nire said in a voice of winter winds, "and never again. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Next time you try will be your last."
She let go and sprang away,, her knife in guard position, ion case he was going to retaliate. Elbereth took a deep breath, pushing himself to his feet, praying fervently that he was never against her in a fight. For her to have pinned *him*, a Lythari… He eyed her warily before he spoke.
"My apologies. I was not aware of this."
"Yeah, well, now you know." She scrubbed a hand across her eyes, putting her knife away. "Look. I just came to make sure that you were okay, too. Not to argue, not to get yelled at by another person for my stupidity."
She turned to leave. "Nire, wait!" Elbereth came hurrying after her.
"What?" she snapped, whirling around. All she wanted to do now was go home. She couldn't deal with any more.
"If you ever plan to go on another crazy adventure…"
"I'll contact you." A faint smile crossed the girl's face. "In fact, probably soon. See ya."
She quickly gated back to her bedroom and flopped down on her bed. Curling up on her side, she made herself as small as she could, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Her life was too much; she couldn't handle much more. Being able to feel - actually *feel* - the animosity people felt towards her was tearing her up inside. There was no way she would go to Gar and Alea for help, to admit she couldn't handle or do something.
Instead, she tried to cope the only way she knew how. By now, her upper left arm had a pretty pattern of fine white lines running across it. There was a single thick scar crawling its way through the midst of it all, the place where she had cut too deep when Jander had come upon her unexpectedly. Although she would never admit it, she treasured that day deep within her subconscious. It was the first time someone had bothered to pretend to care about her.
But Jander didn't even bother to pretend anymore. He was slowly pulling away from her, slowly pulling away from Azrael. It was as tough he wasn't sure how to act around her anymore. In one moment of thoughtlessness, she had managed to re-erect the wall that he put between himself and others. No long was he the fun, slightly sad vampire that she loved to be around and could talk to about anything. Now, he held himself slightly aloof. Two weeks. He had been distancing himself now for two weeks.
She had fucked it up again, just like everything she ever touched. Every time she did something, *something* which ended it all. Whenever she attempted to help someone in some way, she did something wrong and got screamed at. Whenever she attempted anything, be it friendship, be it help, be it anything, she somehow screwed it up. And this time was no different. She couldn't do anything right. It was her lot in life, and she was resigned to the fact.
Her insides felt as though something were constantly squeezing them. Her stomach, her heart, her lungs… They all were filled with a cold pain, a constant pressure. She would do anything, absolutely *anything*, to make the pain stop. A giant hand was inexorably squeezing everything. She couldn't take it for much longer.
If she did things correctly, however, it would end soon. She would be released of all of the pain, all of the suffering that she was subject to on a daily basis. And nobody would have to deal with her again. Jander would finally be rid of her and everyone would be happy.
Soon.
* * * * *
Jander couldn't do it. Emotionally, he just was not able to forgive Nire. Truly, he wanted to. He missed talking to her long after she should have been asleep. He missed being able to tell her anything, missed her being able to tell him everything. He missed how she would always profess how she hated people being near her, but she would stand only a hairs-breadth away from him. He missed the way she was constantly there in some way, be it how he could always hear the songs running through her head or how she came to visit for a few moments every night. She didn't do that anymore. And he missed how she was *never* afraid of him, how her comforting scent permeated almost everything he owned due to her constant presence.
He wanted nothing more than to forget and move on, to regain that easy camaraderie they once had. M But he just couldn't do it. Every time he saw her, instead of becoming more relaxed and at ease with himself, he became much more uptight and worried. What was she going to say next? How would she hurt him the next time? He couldn't help but not trust her any more. Always, he was wondering what she was going to say next, what she was really thinking about him.
Had he been wrong about her? Did she really not care at all about him? If that were so… He was weary, world-weary. Nire was the last one he expected to look down on him so, and if he couldn't even trust her then there was nothing left for him.
He was weary and wanted to rest. He wanted to forgive Nire and get her back from wherever he had lost her to. But he was tired.
* * * * *
Raistlin saw a change in Nire, not a good change. She became much quieter, not as responsive and eager to banter as before. It wasn't the way she had been pulling away before. This was scarier than that; it seemed as though her body was there, but her mind was retreating ever further away.
Long hours were spent by her in her room in his tower. He could hear glass rattling and papers shuffling whenever he paused outside the closed door to listen. One time, he tried getting into the closet where she kept all of her spell components. To his surprise, it was locked and heavily protected. While it was unsurprising that she did not trust him, this did spike his curiosity. Was it just that she didn't trust him not to mess around with her things, or was she hiding something?
Well, it did not matter. Whatever she was hiding was hers to hide by right. He trusted her enough to not create something that would kill her or him. Kill others; be a weapon of mass destruction; if she made anything like that, it didn't matter. He trusted her not to kill him with it.
He watched her interaction with his brother's friends. She was even more distant from them, but she did throw herself into whatever they were teaching her as though there was no tomorrow. To his view, none of them noticed this change in her, the change that worried him. She ate up what they taught with frightening speed, perfecting some things within hours. There was a cold, ruthlessness about her that said that she had nothing to live for, so she could put her all into things. The few times he accompanied her and watched what they were doing, he could sometimes see fear in their eyes. Fear of *her*, and it angered him.
As far as he was concerned, this physical fighting was a ridiculous pastime and not useful. But Nire enjoyed it, so he dutifully came and watched a few times. This fear in their eyes as she fought against them, learning at lightning speed, galled him to no end. She was not someone to be feared, this little lost child. Her talent was amazing, both in spell casting and fighting. That strength should be trained and cultivated, not feared, even if the fear was hidden.
Too often he had seen brilliant young mages, bubbling with talent and exuberance, pick up on the hidden fear of their simple-minded parents and townspeople. This slowly destroyed them, leaving them cleansed of their talent and broken, unsure and cold, angry and violent.
Or they turned into him.
Nire was too much like him anyway. He didn't want to see what she would be like if this fear continued. But there was nothing he could do to stop the foolishness. People feared what they did not understand, and nobody understood this child. Perhaps that was what was causing this change. But whatever it was, he didn't like it.
And there was nothing he could do.
* * * * *
Caramon watched as Nire threw herself into the mock fight, her sword hacking and slashing angrily but always in control. There was something different in her now. She was living every day as though it were her last, fighting every fight as though she would never get the joy of combat again, learning every skill as though she was living on borrowed time.
He liked this girl a lot, and wanted to know what was wrong. When he brought up the oddity to the rest of his friends, they scoffed ands aid he was imagining things. But he knew he wasn't. So he tried talking to her, asking questions and finding out what was the matter with her. He was met with vague answers and denials every time. She continued to say that nothing was wrong to the point where he just dropped it. He could only hope that if something were truly wrong, she would tell him in time.
But he watched and worried slightly, in the back of his mind.
* * * * *
Azrael was absolutely miserable. He could sense that something was seriously wrong, something between Nire and Jander. There was a sneaking suspicion within him that Jander only stayed with him because Nire wanted him to. If there was trouble between them, there was no reason to keep him around anymore. It wouldn't be the first time he was cast away.
Jander was distant and Nire was distancing herself. He figured that he should be used to this by now. After all, he was the child no one wanted, vampire-boy. Not even those younger than him wanted hi around. He should be *used* to this by now!
So why did it hurt so much?
* * * * *
Nire soaked up everything the Heroes of the Lance taught her over the next few months., In between learning fighting techniques, she honed her pick-pocketing skills by stealing money to buy the components need for the spell Azazel had given her. She did her best to avoid the Arunsun's and all related people. When she met them in the streets of Waterdeep as she was cruising fro more money or hunting up some rare herb, she was civil, politely declining invitations to visit.
Carefully, she hoarded her findings in the room Raistlin had given her. Her closet where she kept spell components was locked with such sp[ells as only she could get pass. The Red Mage never once questioned her as to what was in there, ands he never told. Over and over again, she read the directions to make the potion. Over and over again, until the point where she could say it in her sleep.
And she slept a lot, too. When she tried to make this, she needed to be well-rested. This was going to take all the energy she had to give. All of it, and probably more.
Finally, she found the last ingredient. She was ready to craft.
