Chapter 95: Right Direction
Jaheira was starting to miss her quarterstaff. Of course, as the party had grown stronger and their foes become more formidable, she had needed to trade in her old, beaten 'stick' – as Yoshimo had once referred to it – for something a little bit more powerful. Enter the pair of enchanted scimitars they had picked up in Trademeet, but whilst they were fine weapons, they didn't help when marching long distances like a staff did.
Her feet ached, but she ignored it. Everyone was tired; Harrian had been having them march on at a hell of a pace as he led them, and still she waited for them to reach their destination. She didn't know what had happened between Harrian and Imoen when they had disappeared for a few minutes, but she did know that there was something going on here which she wasn't aware of. Again.
She could see in Harrian's eyes the strain he was under; the pain he suffered. He thought she didn't know – thought that nobody knew – but she had known the Bhaalspawn for a long, long time, and doubtless knew him better than anyone save Imoen herself. But she could see his troubles, his hardships, and how, in trying to shoulder everything for everyone, he was slowly running himself down.
She wanted to reach out, to comfort him and to chase away the troubles, or at least bear them with him, but knew that such an effort would be rejected quite harshly. He was walling her out, slowly and methodically, and every time they spoke a new barrier was erected between them. And she didn't know how to pull them down.
So she waited, and she worked, and she stood by his side and picked up the pieces that he missed, and hoped he didn't notice whilst secretly praying he did at the same time. He thought he was shouldering it all, all of the burdens, but he let more slip off, missed more, than he believed. He didn't see that it wasn't him dealing with it because he didn't notice that it hadn't been dealt with.
Jaheira couldn't help Harrian openly, but she could work with him so as to keep him from collapsing entirely, as she could see such a thing was just around the corner. She could see how he was ready to fall, either to darkness or to insanity, and probably not even he knew just how fine the string holding him up was, how close to breaking it was.
She wasn't entirely sure why she stayed, why she carried on by his side. She felt quite alone in the party – Harrian wouldn't speak to her, Imoen and Haer'Dalis spent most of their time together, Minsc was hardly a great comfort, Anomen – who she didn't quite consider a close friend anyway – generally had more things to do, and she'd kill someone before socialising with Edwin. As such, she'd become quieter and much more withdrawn in the last month, using her own mind for refuge, speaking with Imoen when the mage had the time, tolerating Anomen's company if the priest wished to spend time with her, humouring Minsc when he approached her.
She knew she could leave. Bid the party farewell, return to the Harpers, attempt to patch together the currently unsteady terms she was on with them, live a new life, a new beginning. Nobody would think any less of her; nobody would criticise her for leaving the group after all she had suffered.
Except for herself. Jaheira had made a solemn promise to Gorion that she would stand by Harrian, a promise which had been fulfilled now the thief had proven himself quite capable of living his life without a guardian, but more importantly, she had made a promise to herself. Finding Harrian in Bodhi's lair, discovering what Irenicus had done to him, she had sworn to have his soul returned or die in the process, and that was what she was going to do.
It went more than keeping her word to herself, however. She couldn't leave Harrian. It hurt to stay – every time she looked at him, it hurt – but she knew it would hurt more to walk away, hurt more to abandon him to this unknown fate. Hurt more to be without him, for when she was with him, she had hope. Not simply hope that he'd change his mind; it went deeper than that. But hope that she would help him find his soul, and he'd become the same man she remembered, the man who didn't have this darkness eating away at him every single hour. The man she had grown to –
Jaheira was jerked out of her reverie and perturbing train of thought by the group coming to a sudden halt, and slowly realised that, during her internal reflection, the company had somehow managed to navigate its way successfully to the Duergar encampment. Harrian was stepping ahead of the group, his cloak wrapped around him, standing as tall as his medium build would allow, which was fortunately still higher than the dwarves.
There were Duergar standing in the small encampment, and they broke from their discussion as the swashbuckler approached them, their expressions showing surprise at the arrival of a group of humans and demi-humans. One of them frowned a little, looking suspicious.
"Cor der noror rrin doth samman?" he grunted, staring at Harrian appraisingly.
"Ol raugh corl sargh? Xunder to thuldin sonn? Thuldul ol torst?" the other one chipped in, stepping forwards, hand going the axe on his belt and evidently noting the slightly worried glances exchanged by the group.
Harrian raised his hands hurriedly. "I'm sorry, I don't know your language. Do you speak Common? Can you understand me?" There was a pause, and he frowned. "We need some help… we were wondering if you could –"
"Gordul! Ta jarge!" the first dwarf spat, giving his companion a quick glance before glaring at the thief.
Minsc shifted uncomfortably, his expression one of deep contemplation. "Boo bristles at his words. I don't know the language, but he is insulting us for certain!" the Rashemani ranger declared with certainty.
Haer'Dalis patted him on the arm to try to calm him down, the tiefling looking distinctly amused. "Calm down, my hound and hamster. I don't know his words, but I must respect those who are willing to so flagrantly insult complete strangers!"
The first Duergar looked confused for a moment until he cleared his throat, a look of realisation crossing his face. "You must excuse my fellows. It is not often we encounter surfacers down here," he explained, voice still gruff but a lot less harsh than before.
His companion still looked suspicious. "Yes, very seldom. They do not live long," he mumbled, still fondling his axe lovingly and disconcertingly.
The first one shrugged. "Well, unfortunate things can happen in the depths, but we do not partake in such events. I am Carlig, a trader of sorts," he explained, smiling grimly and giving something which might have been another shrug, or might have been a bow.
Harrian nodded slowly, smiling a little. "I am Harrian Corias. We're here from the surface in hunt of two strangers that came this way… but it would have been a long time ago. I was hoping, actually, that you might be able to give us a map of the area, as the one we are using is quite poor… or possibly some directions about the area?"
Carlig considered this for a moment. "I haven't seen many strangers around here, and I talk to everyone. Well, almost," he explained. "Aye, we can probably get you our maps, or make some copies of our own. This area of the Underdark, being so close to the surface, isn't as untamed as some parts of the depth you surfacers might think, so it's not an unreasonable request."
They waited as the Duergar turned and disappeared into one of the tents, leaving his suspicious companion behind, who gripped the axe firmly and eyed the adventurers until Carlig returned, bearing a scroll.
"Those two creepy ones were back, Carlig. You remember, the neck-biter and the mage?" the Duergar said at last, after having taken a moment in deep thought, summoning up the memory.
"Oh yes, those two. Bad news, I would wager. I've seen them near the Drow city. Must be up to dirty dealings; those ol morogh dark elves don't usually let strangers live," Carlig replied grimly, shaking his head.
Harrian paused, staring intently at the two dwarves. "Irenicus and Bodhi! They're here?" he demanded incredulously, his eyes flashing for a moment. "They are the two that we seek. I knew that they would be near the Drow city…"
Carlig nodded. "Aye, but I wouldn't go charging in there if you like your life. If you want to get in, ask around; see if anyone knows a back route. Them Drow really don't like outsiders intervening…" He paused, shifting uncomfortably, then held out the parchment. "Here's your map, Corias. Fifty gold should do it. You might want to talk to the Svirfneblin in the settlement to the north for some help. They're eccentric and spineless, but they're from around here, so might know something."
Harrian nodded, taking out a few coins from his pouch and handing them to Carlig. "Thanks. I intend to check it out anyway." He smiled as he unrolled the map, quickly checking, glad to see it was more precise than the one he'd got from the temple of Oghma. He turned to the others as the Duergar shifted away, returning to other affairs. "Excellent. We head north," he declared brightly.