Chapter 138: Breaking

The silence that fell upon the room was grim and oppressive as everyone drew away from Jaheira's fallen body and Harrian's stunned figure. The swashbuckler's chest was rising and falling with each ragged breath he drew, and his eyes were round and wide and unmoving. The paladins jerkily sheathed their blades, looking immensely uncomfortable, as if they didn't know whether or not to hack Jaheira's body to pieces in an exorcism attempt or just run away.

Arkanis the Shadow Thief was the only one in the room who didn't look too bothered. He was wiping his short sword on the clothes of one of his fallen rogues, seemingly too absorbed in his task to notice what was going on around him. Nobody was really fooled.

He straightened up, and glanced over at the huddled group. "Well done, Corias. I think we can trust you to drive a stake into that black heart. It is best that we be going now," he said, glancing over at where the rest of his Shadow Thieves were eyeing some of the riches of the crypt contemplatively.

Harrian didn't react, merely held the Daystar in a shuddering grip and continued to stare at Jaheira's fallen body.

Arkanis rolled his eyes. "Corias!"

Harrian blinked, and looked over at the Shadow Thief. "What?" he asked, his voice blank and dead.

Arkanis rolled his eyes again. "We're leaving. You can finish this task, can you not?" He raised his hand to toss a stake to him, then paused, considering, and handed it to a disgusted-looking Anomen instead.

Harrian paused for a moment, still blinking. Then his face settled into an emotionless mask, and he sheathed his blade. "Of course. Consider it done," he said. "I thank you for your assistance here today."

Arkanis shrugged. "I think that, with this deed done, you are certainly on even ground with the Shadow Thieves." He paused, a smile playing around his lips. "Maybe we even owe you a favour. Consider us your allies as of now, Harrian Corias." He stepped forward to shake Harrian's hand, and managed not to wince as the swashbuckler took his in an iron grip.

As the Shadow Thieves trooped out, Harrian straightened up and looked a the paladins, his eyes resolutely avoiding Jaheira's body. "I thank you also for your assistance. Without it, I doubt this battle would have been won."

Sir Eric considered this for a moment. "We have not done you a favour here, Lord Corias. We have merely joined you on a cause we should have taken up some time ago." He paused, raising the visor of his helm and scratching his chin. "It says much that we found a common ground with the Shadow Thieves with this deed. The light and the grey against the dark. And what a darkness." He shook his head. "But we won."

Harrian's expression shifted to betray some dark emotion for a second before the mask slipped on again. "We won," he agreed. "With a price."

Sir Eric nodded, casting his eyes around the room where two of his paladins and several Shadow Thieves also lay lifeless. "I regret your loss. But they have died for… a cause."

Again, Harrian's expression twisted, this time into a little anger, but before the swashbuckler could get out some rebuke, Anomen swept forward and grabbed Eric's arm to drag him off to a corner of the room.

"Perhaps, ah, it is not best to talk of this," Anomen murmured, keeping his voice low as Harrian began to pace slightly behind them. "He will not be taking this well. We thank you for your assistance… and I hope now the Order sees that this Bhaalspawn is not a threat."

Sir Eric nodded slightly, looking a little sheepish. "I, ah… yes. I confess I am uncomfortable in these situations of private loss. We shall leave you to finish the task." He glanced over Anomen's shoulder at the party, which was still milling around aimlessly. "You have indeed proven yourselves. He is not a servant of darkness." He extended a hand towards Anomen. "And you, Lord Delryn, have also impressed many at the Order, with both this endeavour and your handling of the Fallen Knights."

Anomen's expression quite obviously showed a struggle between appearing proud and appearing stoic as he shook Eric's hand. "The Order was not at the forefront of my mind in these tasks. The Fallen Paladins… needed to be dealt with. In whichever way possible."

"Indeed. I agree entirely. Sir Anarg was once a good friend of mine, and it pains me to hear of the depravity to which he sank. Evil can strike at even the purest of hearts. And if that is so, then cannot good strike at the darkest?"

"I doubt Bodhi could have come to the light," Anomen commented wryly.

Sir Eric smiled humourlessly. "That is not my point. You have estranged yourself from the Order, Anomen, for reasons we could not comprehend at the time. But since your return, and your assistance, there have been some vocal members who have called for your reinstatement. After today, I shall be joining them. You saw beyond our tenets to follow what was right. Too many of our number now follow instructions blindly."

"That is what you teach them to do," retorted Anomen boldly.

Again, Eric smiled thinly. "Yes. It is. And it is something we shall address. But I think you can wear the title the Gods bestowed upon you proudly, Sir Anomen. Do not think we shall constrain you – you have a worthy cause here. Corias may not be a creature of darkness, but I fear that his struggle against his taint shall be a long one, and he shall need your assistance. Similarly… Reynald de Chatillon shall need a guide back to the path of righteousness."

"I don't need the title," was the unconvincing reply.

This time, the paladin's smile was much more genuine. "It is yours, whether you accept it or not. And the duties we have bestowed on you… well, it is not much of a stretch of the imagination to assume that you would have taken them up anyway."

Anomen considered this for a moment. "If the Order swears that they shall not take unjust action against Harrian, then I shall do as they bid. Have no fear… if he walks down the path of darkness, I shall be ready, and prepared."

"I pray it does not come to that, Sir Anomen," Eric replied. "I bid you well, however – we must leave, and report to the Prelate of our success. Later, I am sure that we shall be clearing these crypts out of their evil taint. We would appreciate any assistance you can lend."

"Send a runner, and we shall be there," Anomen assured him. "Go. We shall… deal with Bodhi, and our loss."

Sir Eric nodded, then gestured to his small group of knights to follow him as he headed out of the crypt, back towards where the sun would have doubtless risen by now. A cold silence fell upon the room, as the party members all stared at their feet, at the wall, at the bodies, and all that could be heard was a dripping noise. None of them really wanted to know what it was.

Anomen hefted the stake Arkanis had given him. "I shall… go take care of Bodhi," he said at last, eyeing the room off to the side tentatively. Nobody reacted except for Imoen, who threw him a grateful and yet scared look.

As Anomen disappeared into the side room, Imoen's gaze shifted over to Harrian. He was still pacing agitatedly, his face a whirling maelstrom of emotions, fighting against some obvious inner turmoil. Every few seconds he would pause, look at Jaheira's untouched body, take a deep breath, then begin to pace again.

"We should leave this wretched place," Reynald said soberly, his own eyes still fixed on Jaheira's corpse. "It reeks of evil and death. Let the Order clean it of its darkness; our task here is almost done."

Harrian stopped again, and gave Jaheira another long look. As he froze, Minsc stepped forward and picked up her body carefully, holding her against him as if she were a child. She hung in his arms like a rag doll, limp and lifeless.

"Minsc shall carry her," the big ranger said forcefully as Harrian stepped forwards. "You are weak and worn, and it is no trouble for Minsc. She was a fellow lover of nature – it is my duty to do so." Boo squeaked morbidly.

Harrian looked torn for a moment, then walked over to Minsc slowly and patted the Rashemani on the arm. "Thank you, Minsc," he said slowly, his voice thick with emotion.

There was a thud from the room to the side, and Imoen's eyes widened as she staggered slightly. Reynald grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her from falling, and the pink-haired mage took a deep, gasping breath.

"It… it is done," she whispered, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "I… I feel…" She looked up as Anomen emerged from the room, looking grim and holding what had to be the Rhynn Lanthorn in his hands. "I feel whole again."

Despite himself, Harrian could not help but smile, though it was a smile with a deep sadness in his eyes. "Our work here is done," he said at last, his own voice shaking. "Let us leave this place… then it shall be on to Suldanesselar, and to Irenicus." He gripped the hilt of the Daystar. "He has much to pay for."

The procession towards the surface was quite and grim, the trip longer than it had seemed even when they were fighting their way through. The bodies of thieves and paladins, remains left behind by slain vampires, and other remnants of the battle were still there. Harrian didn't see them. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, but he didn't notice it. Minsc was behind him, but he didn't dare turn around and look at him, look at her.

Nobody talked, which was good. He didn't think he could maintain an active conversation without his control slipping. He wasn't going to lose it. He could keep strong. The others didn't need to see their leader break down. He could keep strong.

They stepped out of the crypts, into the main graveyard. At last, the sun had poked over the rooftops, and light was covering the tombs and the gravestones. It almost made the entire cemetery look picturesque, and it was hard to believe that this was a place for the dead to rest.

The dead. Like Jaheira.

A scream ripped out of him at last, making the others jump and almost causing Minsc to drop the body. Harrian whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall of the tomb next to him. There was a crunching noise, but no pain – he didn't know if it was the stone or his hand, and didn't care right then. When he drew back his fist, there was a long crack down the wall.

Anomen stepped forward, and grabbed his hand. "Harrian…"

He shoved him back, sending the cleric back with a force he didn't know he had, with a strength he couldn't have despatched a hundred vampires with, and felt the darkness within him rising as he screamed again and kicked the nearest gravestone, which cracked and collapsed.

This time, pain did register, and he lost his balance, falling to the floor. The anger and blackness within him continued to bubble, to boil and churn, but he couldn't get up, couldn't feel his limbs enough to clamber to his feet.

Hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him up, murmuring unintelligible words in his ear. He wanted to lash out again, hit whoever it was, knock them back, but his body was still not responding. His legs were weak and failing, but the hands kept him upright. Over to his left, he was vaguely aware of Aerie helping Anomen to his feet, Minsc standing around clueless, and Imoen hurrying over to him.

As Reynald let him go, Imoen grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him, following him as he fell to the floor again, letting the dry sobs wrack his body and not making any attempt to stop him in his sudden, agonising grief.

Control was broken.