Chapter 54: Leap of Faith
The river was wide, far too wide for the road to come across in a simple ford, but shallow enough that Harrian's thighs were barely covered as he knelt in the shallows of the waters, washing his hands free of blood almost frenziedly.
They cleaned easily enough, though he was convinced there was a pink stain to his palms that hadn't been there earlier. He did not consider that it might have been born of fanatical scrubbing.
With a groan, the thief grabbed his blood-soaked shirt and ripped it off, similarly soaking it in the waters. This was a lost cause – the fabric was light, if tough, and the fibres were not as keen to relinquish their new crimson colour. The green cloth kept a perpetually reddish tinge that would not wash out.
Harrian released the shirt, defeated, and watched as it started to float downstream. Then he cupped his hands in the river and splashed cold water over his face and body. The icy drops trickling through his hair and down the back of his neck invigorated him, if a little cruelly, and he started to feel a bit more alive.
As Imoen had said, this was not the first time he'd reacted like this to a situation. Only the last time he hadn't known what it was that was making him feel that way as he had strode through the massacre of the bandit camp near Baldur's Gate, slaughtering any survivors who dared show their heads, and resisting the urge to laugh at how alive the death made him feel.
That had frightened him, but his ignorance had lead him to believe that this was a rather natural occurrence… a bloodlust that all adventurers experienced. It was only when he had seen the horror in Imoen's eyes, the disbelief in Jaheira's and the slight fear – fear for him, for Harrian – in Khalid's that he had realised something was wrong.
When he had read Gorion's note, he had seen just how deep this love of death went, and his fear increased tenfold. He didn't admit it, not even to Jaheira, not even to Imoen… he didn't admit just how afraid of his heritage he was. How afraid that his blood would make him destroy everyone he knew and cared about before consuming his very soul.
It meant a lot to him to know that the others believed that his blood didn't hold sway over him. That Imoen would stand by him no matter what he did, her loyalty absolute. That Jaheira was willing to abandon everything for him, because she had a faith in him that was stronger than her devotion to the Harpers. That Anomen was fighting alongside him, even though his beloved Order frowned so very much upon it. That Keldorn, a complete outsider, had seen a righteousness within him and was willing to stand up for it, even though he was a complete stranger.
"Harrian?"
Corias whirled around, still kneeling in the stream and thus splashing water everywhere as he turned to see Jaheira standing by the side of the bank, her stance and expression neutral and emotionless.
"I'm surprised you're still here," he murmured, but there was only regret in his voice, no bitterness. "I would have thought you'd have… left, have returned to the Harpers or something. You must know now that they're right."
Jaheira said nothing as she padded out towards him, the river barely going over her ankles. She grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him upright none-too-gently, unclasping her cloak and throwing it over him. "Keep that on, or you'll catch your death of cold, you fool," she murmured, shaking her head a little.
Harrian didn't answer, and didn't protest as she pulled him gently towards the bank of the river then sat him down firmly. "You really shouldn't wander alone. I know these woods seem safe, but then… so did the road," she continued.
Corias sighed, burying his face in his hands. "I'm really not having a good day, am I? I should have set a watch. I so certainly should have set a watch… I got complacent, and now… now look what has happened. They could have killed you for my stupidity."
She didn't respond for a few minutes, merely stared at the banks on the far side of the wide river. "They didn't, though, did they." Realising he needed a little bit more by way of support, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder gently. "You have to acknowledge that you saved me. And for that I am very grateful."
He smiled ruefully, bowing his head as he drew the cloak around him a bit more, resisting a shiver. "But you see how I saved you. I didn't need to do that, I didn't need to slaughter them all like that… I didn't need to inflict so much death…"
Jaheira sighed, and shifted around so that she was facing him. "What else would you have done? How else would you have fought them?" There was no reply, and she sighed again. "What if Anomen had been with you as you killed them? Or Yoshimo? Would you feel the same way, or would you just put it down to a threat well removed?"
"I don't know," Harrian murmured evasively, not meeting her gaze.
"There was precious little else you could have done. Yes, they died quickly," Jaheira started in slow, measured terms, "but then, you're a warrior, you're an efficient killer. We all are. We need to be to survive in this world. We put those skills to the power of good, but at the end of the day, we are all trained in ending lives speedily and brutally if we have to."
Corias narrowed his eyes at her, getting defensive. "What's your point?" he asked bluntly, shifting cautiously.
"It's not what you did that scares you, is it," the druid murmured, frowning. "It's how it made you feel that did." She took a deep breath, looking away, and her inner conflict was clear even to him. "I'm not that much of an idealist that I believe your blood will hold no sway over you. You are a son of Bhaal, after all. What I believe is that you are strong enough that the part of your soul which comes from the Lord of Murder will not consume you, that you shall always be on the side of good as long as you fight the evil within you."
To his ears, however, the words sounded hollow and as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. Harrian looked up at last, giving her a cold and calculating look. "I don't think your Harper brethren will agree."
"To the hells with the Harpers," Jaheira muttered forcefully, grasping him more firmly. "They are wrong. I know this in my heart. I know that I am right to side with you, and I shall continue to do so until…" Her voice trailed off, and her gaze dropped to the ground for a long moment.
Harrian straightened up, placing his hands on hers. "Until when, Jaheira?" he asked, his tone quiet and soft, fixing her with his gentle gaze.
She looked up, and her eyes hardened with resolve; hardened, and yet seemed full of an inner warmth which he hadn't seen for far too long. "No until," she murmured resolutely. "My faith in you is absolute, and shall remain so now and forever more."
Whether or not she was correct, or even if she meant it, Harrian didn't know, but he wasn't sure he cared, for with her words he felt the weights that had fallen on his shoulders lighten considerably. "You have no idea how much it means for me to hear that," Corias murmured, smiling slightly. "I… I'm going to need your faith. I'm going to need it if I have any chance of getting through these trials ahead."
"We'll be facing them together," Jaheira told him firmly, smiling briefly before he pulled her into a firm hug. She wrapped her arms around him, sensing that he needed comfort just as much as she did. "You're a good friend, Harrian, you know that?"
He chuckled in her ear. "Of course I am. You know me – loyalty absolute unto the end, and all of that."
They stayed there for a long time, neither speaking, merely drawing comfort from the presence of the others. For in these dark times, in these moments when neither were sure of the path they walked, it meant a lot for both of them to know that, at the very least, they weren't doing it alone.