Chapter 132: Battle Plans
Harrian had not best pleased when the Delryn estate suddenly erupted into action the morning after at an ungodly hour. Although 'erupted' might have been a bit misleading – activity came in dribs and drabs, working up towards the climax of a victorious group of slaver-killers around late morning.
He had been awoken when dawn broke by the arrival of a messenger from the Shadow Thieves who had precious little regard for common courtesies such as knocking. Harrian hadn't bothered to ask how the man had managed to get into the house and up to the bedroom, knowing he himself would not have found such a task to be overly challenging, but this did not mean that it wasn't aggravating. Ignoring the states of undress he had found the recipient of his message and his companion, the Shadow Thief had almost wordlessly handed over a sealed scroll, then overly dramatically departed through the open window.
Harrian made a mental note to ask Anomen if he could set up a bear-trap just by the main gate, and loosen the tiles on the roof so that anyone trying to stand on them would plummet to their doom.
The message had been from Linvail, as was expected, saying that the Shadowmaster had managed to get together the forces he would need for aiding in the defeat of Bodhi's cult, and that they would be ready by nightfall. Harrian questioned the wisdom of assaulting a vampire's den at night when daytime would give them an advantage, but had not been in a position to press the issue.
The second arrival had been Keldorn, whose appearance had mercifully been once Harrian and Jaheira were actually dressed. Worn, beaten and bloodied, the retired Inquisitor had yet explained the success the other half of the party had enjoyed the previous night, adding that Anomen and the others had retired to the temple of Lathander, which had generously offered to take in the slaves they had freed. They were also there to watch the return of the few Fallen Paladins who had survived the sinking of the Divine Thunder, and to see what would happen to them. Keldorn had rapidly declined any offer for breakfast – having witnessed both Harrian and Jaheira's culinary skills on the journey to Trademeet – and departed, pleading a need to return home.
The sun had been high in the sky, thus, when Anomen and his four companions came back to the Delryn Estate, tired and worn yet jubilant and victorious. Whether they'd wanted to or not, Harrian and Jaheira had heard all about the defeat of the Fallen Paladins, which Anomen in particular – fairly rightly – was treating as a personal victory on his part. Mercifully, they had ended the retelling with the news that the Order had similarly gathered enough knights to aid the cause, and were ready for the attack whenever Harrian deemed it to be time.
The swashbuckler considered this for a few moments as he lounged in the sitting room of the estate, eyeing his jubilant companions warily. "The Shadow Thieves say that their forces will be ready by nightfall," he started slowly, mulling this over. "But an attack by day is far wiser. I would say tomorrow, just after dawn, so the vampires are weary and deprived of rest."
Imoen nodded slowly, wiping some soot from her forehead. "So that means we get one last night before… the biggest of battles." Her expression shifted slightly with uncertainty, and Harrian could see the tumultuous thought processes behind it. So close to getting her soul back… in some ways it was unreal.
"Indeed, my wildflower," a slightly more energised Haer'Dalis agreed, clapping his hands together. "One night to enjoy before we may all go meet our dooms! 'Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die' as the saying goes."
Everyone stared at the tiefling with varying degrees of venom. "Bard, there is another saying I am familiar with," Jaheira started coldly. "If you have nothing useful to say, then say nothing at all."
"We can't have that," Anomen muttered under his breath. "Otherwise he'd be mute, and that would be most distinctly odd indeed. But welcome."
If Haer'Dalis heard Anomen, he didn't show it, and he distinctly ignored Jaheira's comment. "It shall be a great battle, with a great cause. The bards shall stand and sing of this day… and this bard in particular is one of them."
Harrian glared at him. "Haer'Dalis, if you have plans to carry on with that damnable ballad you insist on composing, then make sure it never comes to light until I am dead. That will give it more weight, anyway. All heroes are dead."
"I intend to make you a living hero, my raven," Haer'Dalis smirked.
"Tough. You play it in taverns when I'm still around, I'm hurling myself off the nearest building," Harrian retorted.
"I could throw him off the nearest building for you," Anomen offered. It seemed weariness and recent events made him far less inclined to watch his words in terms of politeness when it came to dealing with the tiefling blade.
"Not necessary, Anomen. He has his warning," Harrian mumbled, then stood up. "I'd suggest you all spend the day relaxing, and get some good sleep tonight. You're all weary, and we need to be as alert and ready for tomorrow… as there's no telling what it might bring," he told them ominously.
"I'll ensure we feast tomorrow eve upon our victory," Anomen declared with a chuckle as he and the others all stood, leaving the room to doubtless either relax as instructed or prepare their arms and armour. The only one who lingered behind was Aerie, eyeing Harrian shyly and nervously.
He smiled kindly at her. "Something I can help you with, Aerie?" he asked slowly.
The Avariel nodded. "I do not want you to think that I am ungrateful for your assistance… if it were not for you, I would be dead – or worse, a slave of the Drow. But I have been thinking most seriously… and I believe it might be best that I part your company soon," she told him. "I would not dream of abandoning you before the battle tomorrow, and it pains me that I feel I ought to leave before your quest is done at all, but…"
Harrian nodded, still smiling. "Aerie, you do not need to feel obligated to even battle Bodhi. This is not your fight."
"It is not Anomen's, or Haer'Dalis', Minsc's, but they are all going to fight for you and Imoen," Aerie pointed out.
Harrian considered this. "If you wish to stay until tomorrow, I will not stop you. You have your own life to live, your own path to beat out, and I'm not going to assume it lies with me. I still barely know you, Aerie – I'm not going to ask you to die for retrieving my soul."
"I owe you that much, Harrian," she said. "Yet I feel it would be best if I leave. As you said… there are things I need to do in this life, in my life, which do not necessarily revolve around your existence. I hope you cannot blame me…"
He shook his head. "I cannot blame you. I could not blame any of the others if they decided that this path I walk is not the path for them. I do not fight with them because they are obligated to lend their swords to my cause – I fight with them because… because they have chosen to, and that is more powerful than any obligation. You are not an adventurer at heart, Aerie."
She nodded. "Exactly. I want to see the world, and do things, but… not by the point of a sword." Aerie paused, and glanced at the door. It seemed most of the party had gone to the garden to collapse in. "I also feel it would be best if I left the group."
Harrian didn't really need to ask. "Haer'Dalis?" As she nodded, his expression darkened. "That bard is becoming more trouble than he is worth."
Aerie smirked slightly. "True, but I think the trouble he causes is not for you to deal with. Your companions may be walking the same path as you, but they have their own lives to lead. Let them get on with that, and do not feel you have to supervise their existences as well."
"I wasn't…" Harrian's voice trailed off, and he realised that he had been planning to do that. "There are ways, Aerie, in which you never cease to amaze me," he sighed, shaking his head. "It will be an honour to fight alongside you tomorrow, and is an honour that you wish to lend yourself to this cause. I can do nothing but wish you luck when you choose to depart afterwards."
Aerie smiled shyly. "T-thank you," she replied at last, before turning and leaving.
The early afternoon sun was starting to spill through the windows before the next interruption came, and Harrian was pouring over the sketches and plans he had found of the crypts. They were imprecise at best, as they had been pieced together over a century ago, but they would do as a general guideline.
The door to the estate opened and closed, though Harrian thought nothing of this until the door to the drawing room swung open, and he glanced up. A tall, broad-shouldered man, perhaps in his late twenties, with thick blonde hair and slight sideburns stepped in. He was wearing a slightly ripped tunic and a worn expression, and his cloudy blue eyes were unwavering and fixed on Harrian.
Instead of being surprised by a complete stranger entering the house, Harrian leant back casually and met his gaze easily. "You would be Sir Reynald de Chatillon, would you not?" he said softly, keeping his expression open.
The man shook his head. "I am Reynald de Chatillon. But I am no knight," he answered in the same tone. "Anomen directed me to come here once I was finished with the Order," he elaborated slowly.
"Yes, he told me. What did they say?"
"You are Harrian Corias?" The swashbuckler nodded, and Reynald moved to sit down stiffly. "Anomen had explained my actions to the Prelate, and as they talked with my former comrades amongst the Fallen Paladins, I was directed to Torm's shrine to sit in contemplation and… wait."
"For his decision?" Harrian asked.
"Or judgement. I don't know," Reynald confessed. "There was… nothing. For nine hours, there was nothing, which in itself is odd. If I were unworthy, then I would have been cast out immediately. Which is what I expected. I have not done enough to be deemed worthy. I still have blood on my hands."
Harrian was tempted to ask just what brought the paladin down in the first place, but thought the better of it. "Maybe that means you have a chance to prove yourself worthy, then," he mused idly.
Reynald nodded, a little over-eagerly. "That is what Sir Ryan said, Lord Corias," he told him. "Of course, the Order would not direct me through any… redemption. But they said they would support it. I have been told to leave, to travel, and to attempt to make peace with my lord through more actions." He paused, and glanced up at Harrian. "I wish to begin by joining you in your destruction of the vampire cult. And then on your quest, if you would have me."
Do we really need a fallen paladin desperately searching for redemption along for the ride on a quest which has a tendency to step into morally grey ground? Harrian mused instantly. Well, it's his decision. He seems more stable than the rest of the party.
There was a pause as the Bhaalspawn considered this. "Begin with the cult. And then… then we shall see," he answered at last.