Chapter 77: Mind's Eye
Keldorn and Jaheira flanked Harrian as the group moved swiftly through the corridors of the crypt, plainly so that they could keep an eye on him if absolutely necessary. The group's equipment had been relatively easy to find, so they all felt kitted up and ready, if bone-weary. Though their better judgement told them to flee the crypts, they had no idea where Irenicus was headed to, and if this journal was available, they would do well to find it and use it to supply the answers they needed.
Anomen and Imoen were taking point, for Delryn was clearly the most efficient fighter there not having been imprisoned or on the duty of watching Harrian, and because Imoen probably had the best idea of navigating through the crypts to this experiments room. Everyone kept silent as they trudged, the tombs seeming oddly abandoned, for the vampires had clearly moved on for the time being at Bodhi's order. She clearly thought Irenicus would need to know what had happened.
There was a silence hanging over them all as they walked. Minsc and Haer'Dalis seemed to be talking so quietly the others couldn't pick up whatever they were saying. Keldorn, Jaheira and Harrian were enveloped in a grim stillness.
That left the other two, walking slowly and deliberately, seeming to be silently daring the other to make the first move and say something first. Anomen seemed to be focused utterly on keeping his ears out for approaching enemies, and Imoen hunting desperately for any traps.
Thus it was only when the pink-haired mage tripped on a lose flagstone and almost fell that they even acknowledged the others' presence. Anomen darted forward, grabbing her by the elbow, and wordlessly hauling her to her feet. "Be careful, my lady," he said at last as she threw him a vaguely grateful glance. "There are clearly all manner of horrors awaiting us around each corner – keep your wits about you."
Not even knowing why, Imoen threw him a slightly scathing look, ignoring the others as they trooped diligently behind them. "I know what I'm doing, Anomen," she retorted a little more sharply than she intended. "If it weren't for me, you'd probably have been skewered by three spike-traps already."
His expression was a slightly shocked one, for he had obviously not anticipated such a short response. "I meant no insult," he replied mildly, blinking with surprise. "Just you must simply be tired from your ordeal, and thus be extra-careful to not make any mistakes plagued by fatigue."
"My ordeal?" she repeated brusquely, glancing at him, then stopped herself. "Ah, yes, imprisonment," Imoen muttered unhappily, shaking her head. She couldn't tell him. He was a Helmite – he'd probably condemn her on the spot. He might have accepted Harrian before, but after the thief's recent display, the cleric would certainly be packing his bags and leaving once they were out of this mess.
"Don't you worry about me," she replied instead, keeping her tone cool. She didn't want Anomen to get inside her head, her thoughts; pull out images and beliefs she didn't want him to. Better to keep him sheltered from the truth, and that required keeping him at arms' length. "I won't fail the group; not like you did."
The harsh accusation spilled from her lips before she could stop herself, and she glanced away, grimacing, instantly regretful. But before she could apologise, Anomen, surprisingly, got there first.
"I am sorry, my lady," he murmured distantly, gazing at some point ahead of them down the long corridor. "I know I left you all in your time of need… abandoned you when you clearly needed me. Though I am trying to repent by helping you now, I still turned my back on you all for selfish reasons."
Imoen swore under her breath, regretting her words even further. In the time she hadn't seen him, she'd forgotten how sensitive and guild-ridden Anomen could sometimes be. "No, I… ignore me," she mumbled at last, unhappily. "If you hadn't left when you did, then you wouldn't have been able to save us in the nick of time – you'd have been there with us."
"I may have returned, but the fact that I walked away in the first place is unforgivable," Delryn responded, shaking his head ruefully. "As a priest of Helm, I am a servant to duty. Only, when presented with my choice, I chose the duty to myself rather than the duty to my friends, comrades, and beliefs. The Order was wrong; I see that even more clearly now. I could not continue to serve such a corrupt organisation."
Imoen glanced sideways at him, grimacing as she saw how pained his expression was. "Was that it? Did you leave them entirely?" she asked lightly, trying to probe without digging too hurtfully.
Anomen took a deep, shuddering breath. "Two days after I left your company, I was knighted. I fulfilled my lifelong dream, and became a full member of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. It should have been the most joyful day of my life." He shook his head. "It was hollow."
The mage frowned. "Hollow?"
Delryn nodded. "Yes, hollow. I had achieved everything I thought I had wanted, but at the price of betraying everyone I hold dear in this world. Knowing what I had done, knowing what I had walked away from, made the knighthood so empty. The Order ceased being the driving force of my life a long time ago – just I clung to it for weeks afterwards as I didn't want to admit this to myself, as I didn't want things to change."
Imoen grimaced once again. Here Anomen was baring his heart to her most frankly, and she still couldn't bring herself to open her mind up and unburden herself of her own troubles. No, he didn't need her worries right then. He had plenty to worry about. Yes… that would do.
"So you walked away, abandoned your knighthood and the Order for all of us. For what we're all doing," she said instead, keeping her eyes on the ground. He would be expecting her to look for traps – it was an evasive tactic with a perfect excuse.
"I am still a knight," Anomen replied haughtily, though there was the slightest trace of uncertainty in there too. "The Order did not make me a knight – Helm made me a knight. Until he sees fit to remove me of that privilege, no mortal man can undo what has been done. I am simply now a Knight-Watcher of Helm."
"Knight-Watcher. Heh. That's got a nice ring to it." Imoen chuckled uncertainly, and was gratified by Delryn smirking a little in her poor attempt to lighten the mood. He was clearly grateful that she was not going to over-complicate matters, give him more to worry about.
There were a few moments' silence as they continued walking, until Anomen cleared his throat tentatively. "My lady… I must ask… Harrian said that Yoshimo has betrayed us. Is this true?" He seemed quite fearful.
Imoen frowned yet again. This conversation was wreaking havoc on her conscience. "I don't know," she replied truthfully. "He seemed to admit that he was, but to what extent… I don't know. Why he did it, just what he did, where he is now… I don't know." She looked at him. "I don't know if he was ever truly our friend."
Anomen took another deep, faltering breath. "I suppose we shall have to face him someday," he mused thoughtfully, regretfully.
"I guess," Imoen replied shortly.
"And kill him." The knight still seemed quite distressed.
"I guess," she repeated.
There was another silence as Delryn shook his head. "Redemption comes for all men," he said at last, with false-brightness. "Yoshimo is honourable; this I believe for certain. I do not doubt that, whatever happened, he was not a willing party to it."
Imoen didn't reply as she slowly came to a halt, cocking her head to one side as they approached a fork in the corridors. There was a long silence as she glanced from one passageway down to the next, frowning thoughtfully.
"Lass?" Keldorn asked lightly as the rear guard approached, still dragging a stubbornly closed Harrian, who was scowling darkly. Imoen didn't want to know what was going on inside her brother's head.
The pink-haired mage raised a hand to forestall any further comments, and looked firmly down the left-hand passageway. "I think we should take this direction," she said at last, a little distantly, before starting to stride almost casually down the corridor. The others glanced at each other briefly before following.
They had descended to the deepest parts of the crypts, where every room bore a small fountain of blood that wreaked of death and evil almost overwhelmingly. Yet this final corridor was dark, cramped, and devoid of any of the artistry that adorned every other passageways in Bodhi's crypts. There was also only the single door to be seen, right at the very end – and, in direct contrast with all of the other vampiric decorations to be seen, it was simply heavy, solid, and metallic.
Imoen tried the handle tentatively as they reached it. It stubbornly refused, but before she could reach down for the makeshift lock picks she had collected out of bits of wire and the odd fine spike during their trek, Minsc stepped forwards and booted the door solidly.
It didn't have a chance, and simply detached itself from its hinges and fell to the floor noisily. Imoen gave Minsc a grateful glance as Anomen shrugged. "I had considered doing that," the knight said lightly, "only, in my experience, it serves as little better than a method of breaking one's foot."
Minsc smiled toothily for the first time in days. "I feel no pain when the butts of evil need kicking. You know that Boo has bestowed Minsc with greater power than any other warrior of righteousness has felt."
Anomen frowned. "Boo bestowed you…?" His voice trailed off as he realised this was a can of worms he wasn't too keen on going off and opening. He looked at Imoen lightly. "I suppose you want me to enter first."
The little mage raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind," she answered, grinning thinly.
As it turned out, it was just as well Delryn was the first person to enter the room, for had it been Imoen, the throwing knife that darted through the air with incredible thief would have caught her painfully and lethally in the neck, instead of simply hitting a solid section of Anomen's plate mail and bouncing off harmlessly.
It still knocked the cleric aside, and he stumbled. This move certainly saved his life, for as he lowered his head, a second knife hummed harmlessly over it, singing as it flew through the air and embedding itself in the wall behind Anomen.
He raised his shield instantly, knowing that the moderate enchantments on the family heirloom would protect him from the missile weapons better than any other lump of metal he could have had slung over his back.
None of the others followed him into the room, and he glanced around furtively, searching for his attacker. The area was large, the far wall lined with massive glass chambers and littered with odd machinery and controls. The magical and mechanical power combined was most disconcerting, as were the shadows dancing across the floor from erratic candle flames and, somewhere, a moving assassin.
Imoen, standing in the entrance, protected by the massive metal door, kicked the first knife across the floor towards the cleric, yet another deep frown on his face. Anomen grimaced – he hated seeing her as deeply troubled as she clearly was, yet he diligently picked up the blade that had been thrown.
He recognised it almost certainly, the exquisitely adorned hilt being so memorable that it seemed burned in his mind. He had never actually seen it thrown before, only being kept for 'special circumstances', and for a moment felt mildly honoured that he had warranted the use of the owner's favourite knife.
Anomen poked his head above his shield to see a shadowy figure moving from behind one darkened glass chamber to the next, moving to a better position so as to attack. "Yoshimo!" he called out, his voice a dangerous and rich mixture of emotions. "Please! Stop! Come here… let us talk."
There was a long silence, then the bounty hunter slowly skulked from behind two chambers left of the one Delryn had been looking at. He still held a throwing knife in his hand, and his face was an emotionless mask. "Do not speak," the Kara-Turan said simply, blandly. "For one of us must die here, today. Does friendship go deeper than blood?"