Chapter 144: Pledges

Harrian jumped as the outstretched hands of the elven statue shifted noiselessly and closed around the stone harp he held out to it. He couldn't say he was entirely used to statues moving and grabbing other stone things, but somehow he'd imagined, if it was going to happen, it would happen with a lot of fuss and a lot of noise, and certainly not as a smooth, silent motion.

"Very well," he mumbled under his breath. His heart was racing, and not only from the jump of the moving statue. Even after from the first one taking the horn, it had still surprised him – possibly due to some sort of inherent refusal to believe certain things, even with all he had seen in the past. Moving statues, when there wasn't a mage to make them turn and attack you, left him rather put out. As did being about to descend to the Tree of Life where Irenicus waited.

"Is this supposed to change something?" Reynald muttered, gripping his sword impatiently and swinging it a little, the others similarly shifting behind him. Patience was not a virtue the party had in abundance, especially under these severe conditions.

Their arrival at Suldanessellar had been a turbulent one, for they had been greeted with such cheerful sights as adamantine golems and a horde of drow. With the assistance of the elven warriors, the attacking forces had been defeated after long, hard, urban warfare, and yet the task had not been completed. Irenicus was, Elhan claimed, already within the Tree of Life, Ellesime his prisoner, and the only way to the Tree of Life was through the palace. Irenicus had done his best to seal his way behind him, however, leaving the various keys – which came in all sorts of shapes and forms – on certain members of his pets in his wake. This had included a battle with the party's third dragon, which had succeeded at almost killing Anomen when the cleric had been too slow to dodge a massive, clawed foot. Only a well-aimed magic missile to the eye from Imoen had blinded and enraged the beast enough for it to miss Anomen and for Reynald to launch forwards with a lucky blow through the skull that had felled it.

As such, they had been able to penetrate the gate to the palace, and the only challenge left to bar their way to the Tree of Life was accessing the stairway down. Nobody, not even Elhan, had known exactly how to do it, and it was only when Imoen had pointed out that the two statues by the entrance seemed to have empty hands and had linked it to the two stone instruments they had merely considered to be odd elven mantelpiece decorations that anyone had been able to work out how to proceed.

The statues seemed to have accepted the pieces, too, and after a few seconds of confused waiting, a haunting sound reached Harrian's ears. It took him a few more moments to realise that it was coming from the horn that had he had placed in the hands of the first statue earlier, and the mournful note was shortly followed by the plucking of harp strings. Neither statue moved an inch.

"I think…"

Harrian's voice was cut off as the ground beneath them shuddered slightly, as it was prone to doing whenever they triggered something in a place like this which would cause some major architectural shifts. He moved his feet to maintain balance, noticed Jaheira leaning against the wall briefly, saw Minsc and Reynald staggering for a little, and grinned as Imoen steadied Anomen.

Once the shuddering stopped, the great fountain before them, which they had thought to be nothing more than a pleasant interior decoration, was gone. In its place was a long stone stairway leading to darkness. And, Harrian reasoned, thinking about what would lie beyond, death.

This was it. Down those steps would be the Tree of Life, where Irenicus was standing, ready to fight, not willing to relinquish Harrian's soul until it was pried out of his cold, dead body – figuratively speaking, the thief hoped. The mage still had to think himself invincible, having brought the elven city almost to its knees. He could hardly think Harrian to be a threat.

Which was something the Bhaalspawn was sure he could use to his advantage. Irenicus would not think him to be a threat, would not think he was coming to fight. The elves had fallen in all frontal assaults, all forms of typical battle where they were decimated upon the initial charge, their war-mages unable to back them up.

But Harrian's strength was not in his initial charge. And he would not see his friends decimated with such a tactic.

He walked to the first step on the stairway before turning to face them slowly. "Down there… he must be down there. This is it. The final battle." Harrian's face twisted. There was a part of him that was demanding that he go on alone, face Irenicus alone, and it wasn't just out of concern for his companions. He was a Son of Bhaal… and he was ready to face this foe that had challenged him. But would they accept that?

"You have followed me this far, fought by my side for so long. I cannot ask you to go any further. Any oaths of allegiance, any vows of friendship, any personal goals… can be set aside here. The elven city is safe. This is well and truly my battle, and my battle alone. You need not –"

"Harrian." Jaheira looked at him, her eyes flashing dangerously as she raised her hands to unsheathe the twin scimitars strapped to her back. "Do not ask us to not follow you, as you know we shall. You know we cannot let you go on alone." She stepped forwards slowly. "Irenicus has much to pay for. You are not the only one he has hurt." Her expression hardened, and he felt as if her eyes, still filled with anger, were piercing into him. "Khalid's death shall be avenged. And I shall see it, if not do it, myself."

Imoen grinned broadly. "She's right, you know," the pink-haired mage told Harrian, bounding forward and patting him on the shoulder. "We're not going anywhere. No way. No sir! You can't get rid of us." There was a pause, and her expression grew slowly more serious. "You did everything in your power to bring back my soul. It would be… wrong of me not to repay that debt." She moved to clasp his hand. "And it's not just a debt. You're my brother. Not just in blood, either – you've always been my brother. So I dare to face him for you. I dare to fight him for you. If needs be, I dare to die for you."

The two siblings regarded each other for a long moment, their own internal maelstroms of emotion visibly mirrored by their expressions, until Imoen drew a long, shaky breath and grinned again. "Besides, I can't let my little brother go face someone like Irenicus alone."

As Harrian sagged, smiling ruefully and gratefully, Minsc stepped up. "You say that you can not ask us to join you in fighting the Evil Wizard. But even if you were not going to face him, Minsc and Boo would. We have our cause to fight – we have Dynaheir to be avenged – and though we would do it without you if needed… if it can be done in a company of heroes, then so much the better!" the big Rashemani ranger declared, whacking Harrian on the shoulder Imoen had merely patted and almost knocking the swashbuckler over.

Rubbing where Minsc's hand had settled, Harrian's eyes flickered over to where Anomen and Reynald stood – the new knight and the former knight. "What about you two? Anomen, you got dragged into this when you were looking for a party with which you could prove your worth. You met us in the Adventurer's Mart and got into a fight in the Copper Coronet that same day, for Tymora's sake. You didn't know what you were getting into. You don't need to come."

Anomen looked highly affronted. "You told me that you were here to fight an evil wizard and rescue your childhood companion and that you needed a strong sword arm. I accepted your quest. Imoen may be here, with us, fully restored, but you have yet to fight the evil wizard." At last, a rueful smile crossed his face. "Besides, you helped me achieve my dream of knighthood."

"Because of me, you almost weren't knighted, and then you were stripped of your knighthood," Harrian corrected.

"It was returned." The rueful smile became a more playful one. "My quest with you is not over. It is true, I have no personal vendetta with Irenicus, but as long as I am a servant of righteousness I shall be your servant, Harrian Corias."

The Bhaalspawn laughed. "Anomen, if you think that I am righteousness, then we need to have a talk."

"No, I don't." The cleric stepped forward and gripped Harrian's shoulders firmly – but not as painfully as Minsc had. They regarded each other solemnly for a moment until an evil smirk crossed Anomen's lips. "But the Order instructed me to keep an eye on you, so here I shall remain!" he laughed, releasing Harrian and giving him a brief mock-bow.

Reynald chuckled. "I have no such obligation," he confessed, smiling thinly. "And it is true, I could go elsewhere, do what is needed elsewhere. But what is needed, for me, is redemption or death, and neither of those are the easiest of matters in the world. This is as good a place as any."

"Then somewhere else might be better," Harrian argued, not entirely sure why he was keeping this rather pointless resistance up.

Reynald shrugged. "If, by 'better', you mean safer, then… true. But what do you mean? Running around the countryside with five halfwits carting around dead cats and rescuing a child from a rabble of domesticated dogs? I think Torm would smile on me more for defeating an insane mage who is reducing a city to ashes."

Harrian returned the thin smile as he walked over to him, nodding slowly. "Sir Reynald de Chatillon… if you stand by my side, then I swear that I shall do everything in my power to see that the Holy Avenger Minsc carries in his pack shall some day be wielded by you."

A grim silence fell upon them as they all readied their weapons, Harrian drawing the Equaliser, Minsc bearing up his Warblade, Jaheira swinging Belm and Rashad's Talon impatiently, Imoen tossing the Gesen bow from hand to hand with agitation, Anomen wielding the Flail of Ages calmly, and Reynald with the flat of the blade of the Sword of Chaos resting casually on his shoulder.

"Very well. Let this wizard die this day…"