Chapter 106: City of Darkness

The inn of Ust Natha had welcomed them with the usual greetings reserved for the unproven outsider – a dark, almost mocking suspicion, which had been only slightly assuaged by the claiming of the most expensive rooms of the establishment, as well as a private chamber for the party's personal use. They were sure that there would be matters for them to discuss away from prying ears, and although Harrian had warned them all that surely nowhere was safe to talk completely freely, it would doubtless be far more secure to conference in a private chamber than in the common room of the inn.

They had dined there, partaking in the fare of the Underdark and managing to be convincing in their apparent delight in the luxurious cuisine servants had brought up to them before dismissing them and settling down for private talk. Edwin had placed a few silencing wards around the room which would hopefully go unnoticed but permit them a distinct amount more security than they would otherwise enjoy.

Dinner had been quite a sombre affair by all means, everyone knowing that they could not relax or enjoy any luxuries whilst in this place, and prepared to simply fill their stomachs before resting, gathering much-needed strength. Whatever endeavour Solaufein had for them the next day, they would have to meet it fully prepared, and that did not allow them much by way of opportunities to waste time or energy.

Jaheira made her excuses and departed once they were done with their eating, and Edwin shortly after. Anomen and Minsc followed suit within a few minutes of fairly fruitless conversation, and so the four remaining managed to gain a little entertainment by antics and jokes of Haer'Dalis, bringing some badly needed, if not terribly convincing, smiles to his distinctly dour audience.

The tiefling chuckled dryly as his latest joke received a reaction which was more polite than amused, and shook his head ruefully. "In faith, you are all far too dark of nature for my jests to penetrate this gloom and bring light. It strikes me indeed as if even the jolliest caper would have little effect until we leave this sordid locale, for it places a blanket of gloom upon even the brightest hearts. I believe I shall retire for the night."

Imoen nodded, then yawned widely. "Ah, yeah, I can see that being a good idea," the pink-haired mage agreed, standing up and stretching. "I'm getting a little sleepy… might do to go snooze for a few hours, be bright and early tomorrow… g'night," she said to Harrian and Aerie, leaving promptly, with the bard most willingly in tow.

Aerie shifted a little shyly, standing up and straightening her robes. "Perhaps – perhaps I too should go sleep. It has been a long day, and I would not wish to hold the party up tomorrow from being too tired," she said slowly.

Harrian gave her a cautious, very quick glance, a note of slight pleading crossing his face as he stood. "Ah… are you sure? You were no bother today as it was. I wouldn't get too wound up about inconveniencing us – we're a fairly flexible party," he told her, in something of a rush.

She gave him a slow, evaluating look as she leant slightly against the table. "Should… should the leader of our party also not be fully rested?" Her tone was hesitant, as she clearly wasn't about to challenge him or his decision, but there was a subtle note in there which also suggested that he heed her words.

Harrian snorted, rolling his eyes. "In most cases, you have a point, Aerie, but for myself…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Sleep, for me, tends to be that less restful than even staying awake." There was a pause as he shifted uncomfortably. "You see… if you leave, then there'll be nobody for me to talk to, and so I will probably drop off to sleep even if I do return to my own room. I don't… I don't sleep well," he admitted tentatively, and it was the truth. The nightmares which tugged at him weren't the dreams triggered by his Bhaaltaint that instilled him with so much fear – no, these dreams were of a far more personal and in some way terrifying nature, suggestions of which had lingered in his slumber ever since his soul had been taken but had stepped up many paces since their arrival in the Underdark… or since his willing transition to the Slayer; Harrian wasn't sure.

Aerie considered this for a moment, before moving to talk around the table and pull up the chair next to him, shifting it around so they were facing each other. "I don't sleep that well either. There is a lot which… which haunts me," she confessed quietly.

"I suppose you'll fit in perfectly with this party, then," Harrian sighed deeply. "There's a lot which hangs over our heads. A lot that is in the balance, and a lot that we fight for. Some… have lost more than others. Some have more to gain than others." He paused, and fixed her with an intense look. "What haunts you, Aerie?"

The Avariel took a deep, slightly shuddering breath as she gathered her thoughts. "My wings. The loss of my wings." There was a pause as Harrian searched desperately for a reply and Aerie sought for some way to continue. "I try… I try not to think about it. How it was done, why it was done the pain involved in the process, and what it means. I do my best to not think about it during the daylight hours – or what passes for daylight down in this place. But at night… when I sleep… it comes back."

Hesitantly, at more than something of a loss for words, Harrian reached out tentatively and placed a hand on her shoulder, patting it slightly, gently, his mind racing for an answer. "Do you… do you wish to talk about it?"

Aerie closed her eyes, lowering her head, and there was a pause. When she lifted it again, her eyes were hard, her expression resolute. "It is not… not easy for me to remember, Harrian. What I mean to say is, the images are there, the feelings, but to move them into words… is not." She paused, cocking her head to one side a little. "Lower your hand."

Harrian frowned, confused. "What?"

She reached out gently and took him by the wrist, pulling his arm down slightly for his hand to run down her back… until it reached the imperfections, the bumps – the stumps – on her back which had been so far hidden by the folds of her cloak but were now very real and very noticeable.

He yanked his hand back almost instinctively. "Gods! What are…" Harrian's voice trailed off as he saw the expression on her face, and silently kicked himself. "What did they do to you, Aerie?"

A collected mask crossed her face to hide the slight sadness, and she shook her head. "The slavers… they kept me in a cage which was so small I could barely stand up straight. My wings atrophied and withered… and so, to save me –" the words were spat out with surprising venom, "– they amputated them… in the night, with a rusty saw, closing the wounds with flaming torches. To save me." She sighed deeply, and there was an age of ache and pain in the sound. "I wish they had left me to die."

Harrian looked even more horrified at this story. "Gods, Aerie… Gods!" was all he could manage to stammer.

She paused, then looked at him for a long moment. "You too have lost a part of you… something that makes up your very being, and leaves you feeling as if you are lost to the world, chained to something less than you once had, something which weighs you down, pulls you down… what happened?"

Harrian shifted uncomfortably as the tables turned, and lowered his head. "Yes… my problem. Fair's fair, I suppose… you deserve to know why we're here, what we're doing, if you are to be pulled through this adventure with us." He hesitated for a moment, then looked up at her. "We are here following a man called Jon Irenicus. He captured some of us – Jaheira, Minsc, Imoen, and myself – some months ago, submitting us to endless tortures in his dungeon until we were eventually able to break free. Eventually, however, in hunting him down for answers, he hunted us, capturing us once more, and before we could liberate ourselves… he stole mine and Imoen's souls."

Aerie looked utterly aghast at this tale. "Your… your souls? Why would he want your souls?"

Harrian took a deep, faltering breath. "I am a Child of Bhaal, Aerie. As is Imoen; Irenicus wanted her soul for his vampiric sister Bodhi. I do not know exactly why, nor to what end, but whatever it is, we must have our souls back. He was down here for some unknown reason, and now, according to Adalon, is ready to besiege the elven city of Suldanesselar. Perhaps he needed the drow as allies; I don't know. I don't know why he's done this, either. But we need our souls back."

Aerie considered this for a long moment, looking sheepish as she regarded him. "That… that's horrible, Harrian!" she declared at last. "I cannot imagine what… what you have suffered…" There was another long pause as the two of them regarded each other. "You must think me very foolish."

"No," the thief stressed gently, placing his hand on her shoulder again. "No. Not at all. What you have suffered… I can imagine it, as I have experienced much by way of pain, but I cannot understand it, not truly. It is beyond my reckoning, I suppose."

She looked at him slowly, a sad smile playing across her face. "I suppose those who know pain find each other," Aerie mused slowly.

Harrian nodded, a slightly more cheerful – if rueful – grin tugging at his lips, but even as he leant back in the chair, comforted by the presence of someone who knew the sort of intense agony of… of life… the words of Aerie had done little more than bring an image of Jaheira, desolate and hurt, to the forefront of his mind.