Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Bioware, Interplay, or the Baldur's Gate series other than copies of the games themselves and an overactive imagination. Thank you. :)
Journey to
the North
Chapter V
Sir Anomen Delryn was uneasy, to say the least. The flickering candle did little to illuminate the darkness in the rough hut that served as headquarters and home for the commander of the quickly dwindling forces of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.
It did even less to raise Anomen's spirits. He sat bent over a rugged wooden table that could scarcely be seen under the constantly growing multitude of maps, charts, and letters. His forehead rested on his hands, light brown hair falling untidily over his fingers and into his eyes, which were closed and motionless.
Duncan held the snow-bleached skin that covered the door. His tired gray eyes were focused on the unmoving figure of Sir Anomen. He thought perhaps that Anomen had fallen asleep, and he stood on the threshold for several minutes, watching the young knight with indecision. Duncan would sooner face the winter wolves howling in the distance without his sword than wake his friend after a day like this.
The battle had been long, and many of the combatants on both sides had succumbed to serious injury and even death. The clerics of the Order had spent several long and weary hours administering the last of the potions and scrolls that they had managed to save, and the intonation of voices reciting various healing spells became an all too familiar drone.
Anomen had wandered through the ranks with the others for hours after the conflict, exhausting every spell that he had at his disposal, healing and even resurrecting those who had fallen until he could move no more with fatigue and reluctantly retreated to his hut. His well-worn priest scroll had been laid on the table in front of him for memorization, the chosen spells written in a strong, steady hand, but now the quill lay beside the parchment, motionless, and the young cleric's eyes read nothing.
Duncan was about to turn and disappear back into the night when a painfully weary voice called to him, "Stay, Duncan, but close the door. Please." Anomen lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes, turning them to look at the newcomer with an exhausted smile.
The older man took a few steps into the darkened room, dropping the skin behind him with a muffled thud.
"I thought you might be sleeping, Anomen. I didn't want to wake you, but…."
Anomen sat up and rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "I wish you had, Duncan, for that would mean that I had slept."
Duncan frowned slightly as Anomen managed another weary smile and ran his hands through his hair, which fell around his shoulders in sweat-stiffened curls. It seemed fit all too well with the dented and blood-smeared plate armor that he still wore, apparently too spent and uneasy to remove it, even for some much-needed rest.
"You need rest, Anomen."
Anomen stifled a yawn as he spoke. "I think we could all use a night's rest, but such things seem to have become memories only. Memories… or wishes, perhaps." Anomen's deep blue eyes drifted into a faraway look, and for a moment, he was seeing past the cold and desolate mountains of the north, gazing upon a brighter sun.
***
He heard her laughter dancing on the wind, felt her kiss in the warmth of the candle. For a moment she was with him, and he was happy. But all too soon the cold of the north once again crept into his heart, and he was alone.
Duncan did not interrupt, waiting until Anomen's eyes had cleared before speaking. Then he coughed quietly and took another step into the room, his hand distractedly resting on the large sword at his side. "My friend, if you are not well…."
Anomen waved off Duncan's concern with a quick movement of his hand. "It is nothing that a few hours of sleep will not heal." He rose from the table with a quiet ring of metal, and met Duncan's gaze with strong blue eyes that stood out in sharp contrast to the dark circles that surrounded them.
"Now, what news? And pray do not tell me that the enemy lurks on the horizon." He smiled wryly. "I have had quite enough lurking for one day, and am eager for what few dreams of… home that I can muster."
Duncan paused for a long moment before he spoke. " Anomen, the latest scouting party has returned."
As Duncan spoke the words, the smile faded from Anomen's face. Duncan's tone was weary, his eyes troubled. Anomen paused for an equally eternal moment, and then said simply, "How many returned?"
Duncan's gaze faltered, but he managed to bring his eyes back to his commander's face before saying in a low voice, "Three rode into camp." He paused, the look in his eyes all too clear. "One now lives, Sir."
"One only? Of the five?" Anomen frowned.
Duncan nodded hesitantly. "Yes, Sir. Aron and Renfel fell shortly after riding into the camp. Each of the three had been severely wounded" He paused, sensing Anomen's thoughts. "Lord Anomen, there were none that could help. Every spell of healing and raising had been spoken, every scroll and potion gone." He lowered his voice. "We could do nothing."
Anomen sighed quietly, feeling suddenly wearier than he could ever remember. "Helm take and keep the others in His glory."
Duncan lowered his head reverently. "In His glory."
There was a heavy silence. At last Anomen said softly, "Who lives?"
"Janus, Sir."
"Where is he?"
"He waits in the healing tent. He has been urged to sleep, but he refuses to take any nourishment or rest a single moment until he has spoken with you."
"He has been… checked?" Anomen turned back to the table, picked up an ornate, five-headed flail and slid it easily into a loop in his belt. Its subtle glow of magic reflected faintly in his armor and cast an eerie glow over the area surrounding the two men. He retrieved a well-used sling from its resting place beside the candle and slipped it into a pouch on his belt, then a few of the glowing stones that had lain beside it.
Duncan nodded. "One of the battle mages had managed to save one of their spells of True Sight, and cast it as soon as the survivor was brought into the tent. He swears an oath that it is Janus, as surely as I stand before you now."
Anomen looked satisfied, and quickly finished gathering his hair into a low ponytail. He then tucked his unread Priest Scroll into another pouch at his belt and turned to face his companion. "I will not keep him waiting, then." He motioned for Duncan to go before him and forced a faint smile to his face. "Perhaps one man in this camp may sleep tonight, after all."
He followed Duncan out of the small hut and into the night.
***
Anomen ducked into the healing tent alone, standing in the doorway for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. All of the cots were full, but he smiled as he realized that most of them were holding sleeping clerics. Only a few held soldiers that had been unlucky enough to be found after the battery of potions and spells had been cast, and even they slept peacefully, their wounds carefully dressed and waiting patiently for the healing that would soon come.
His eyes searched the faces until he found one that was not quiet in sleep. Janus lay in the darkness, his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Beside him, a young healer held a half-eaten bowl of food in his hands, a look of concern on his smooth features. He watched Janus intently, turning only as he heard the sound of soft footsteps crossing the length of the tent. He looked up, and then stood as he saw Anomen standing over him, looking silently down at the wounded man. The healer rose steadily if not quickly, and Anomen's eyes looked to his in silent inquiry.
The healer spoke in low tones. "I did manage to convince him to take a little food. And he looks all the better for it. But he yet refuses to sleep. He asks only to speak with you, and you alone."
Anomen nodded without a word, and the healer bowed slightly and withdrew, looking over his shoulder only once before disappearing out the door. Anomen pulled the healer's stool closer to the wounded man's cot, his gaze intent on the figure before him. He sat on the stool with a slight noise, and the eyes of the man in the cot jerked toward him in terror.
"Hello, Janus." Anomen smiled slightly and lay a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, feeling him relax slightly under the touch. Anomen nodded toward his bandages, arching a dark eyebrow. "You rather look as though you've tried to save Faerun on your own. Rather selfish of you to take all of the glory before the rest of us have a chance, isn't it?"
Janus coughed slightly in what could almost be a laugh, but his face remained pale and he looked up at Anomen with frightened eyes. Anomen's smile faded quickly. He knew Janus, and though young, the man was not frightened easily. Anomen looked around him in the darkness. There was nothing but sleeping men and the wind outside, but he was uneasy.
He looked back at the wounded man with a grave expression, lowering his voice. "What did you find, Janus? Did you make it into the compound?"
Janus nodded as well as he could, but he did not answer Anomen's question right away. Instead, he opened cracked lips and said, "The others?"
Anomen's gaze dropped, and there was a moment of silence before he said, "Forgive me, Janus. They… have returned to their Lord. I'm sorry."
Janus closed his eyes and fell silent for several minutes. Anomen watched him closely, and had just begun to fear that this man, too, had been lost, but after a moment Janus opened his eyes and whispered, "Helm watch them in their rest." Then he turned his eyes to Anomen, who thought he could see the faint glimmer of tears in the dim candlelight.
"I report then, Sir…."
Anomen shook his head in the darkness, a note of relief creeping into his low voice. "Formality be hanged, Janus. You need sleep, and they tell me that you refuse to rest or eat before you give me your news."
He smiled slightly, sitting back on the small stool. "Now tell me what it is that you have to say, so that we might both get some rest."
Janus frowned and shook his head miserably. "I seek no rest, my Lord. I see in my mind images that I beg to forget, faces that should never be seen."
He paused for a moment, then looked back at Anomen, his voice low, but clear. "My Lord, we did enter the fallen one's fortress. By your instruction, we each had several potions of invisibility in hand, and were unseen as we approached the south gate."
Anomen nodded. "Duruth'Usk."
Janus went on. "Yes, my Lord. We waited in the shadows for our opportunity, and did not need to wait long, as a patrol of Ice Trolls approached the gates." The soldier's eyes darkened, and his voice gained a hard edge despite its weakness. "It appeared that they carried with them several prisoners. Humans from one of the villages to the west, I am certain."
Anomen shook his head, wanting not to believe, but uncomfortably sure of the man's truth. "You are certain? It is unlike Trolls to carry away prisoners…."
Janus interrupted quietly. "Their cries echoed on the wind and in my heart, my Lord. They were human cries, and alive."
Anomen nodded gravely and waited for him to go on.
"The gates were opened as the patrol grew nearer, and we drew close, seeing our opportunity at last. We slipped inside before the trolls and quickly found shadowy corners where we could hide as they passed into the southern courtyard. We remained unseen, and for that we were grateful."
Janus coughed harshly, and Anomen rose quickly and dipped a cup of water from the gratefully unfrozen barrel, then sat again and offered it to Janus, who accepted it thankfully and sat up to take a long drink. He returned the cup, and Anomen did not move to return it, only held it in his hands as he waited for Janus to speak again.
It took him several minutes to do so. When he finally did, he raised his eyes again to Anomen's, and the cleric could see the terror in Janus' gaze return.
"Sir, they stood in the courtyard, waiting. We could not know for what, but soon there was no need to guess. A man walked into the courtyard. He was strangely dressed, in a long robe, much like a mage would wear, but heavier, and it dragged upon the floor. Or perhaps it was his footsteps that dragged. It was difficult to tell. It had… a hood on it, that covered his head so that we could not see his face. As he approached, all that were in the courtyard, trolls and men both, bowed to him and dared not raise their eyes."
Anomen's frown deepened. Trolls did not bow. Ever.
Janus went on, "I could only guess that it was Melanath, and it seems that I was right, for one of the trolls approached him and bowed deeply, saying, 'My Lord, we have brought the sacrifice. May it please you and give you that which you desire.'"
"You are sure of the words?"
"Yes, my Lord, I remembered each one, for I had never thought that a troll could speak thus. Or at all. But it did, and in a voice that chilled me, Sir, for it had the hiss of water on fire."
Anomen sat back on his stool. "Hissing?"
Janus nodded slightly more easily now that he was sitting, and he replied, "Yes, Sir."
The cold seemed to settle suddenly in Anomen's chest, but he only nodded and said, "Go on."
"Melanath walked toward the prisoners, seeming to look over each one as you would look on a cow, or a horse. He circled them twice, perhaps three times, and then nodded slowly, but said nothing. The troll motioned to the others that held the prisoners and said to take them…"
Janus frowned, remembering the words. "Take them to the chamber and prepare them for the ritual."
Anomen paled slightly in the darkness. He dared not voice his thoughts, but knew he must ask.
"Did Melanath say anything? Anything at all...?"
Janus paused, looking at the wall. "Yes, my Lord. Though his voice seemed strange. Flat, and… unnatural. He said only one thing, and I pray that Helm take his voice and his words from me, that I may not remember."
"Janus, tell me."
Janus looked at Anomen. "He said, 'You have done well. You may return to the village and do what you like with the others. Torture them, devour them, whatever it is that your kind does.'"
Anomen closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that rose within him. He lowered his face and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, unable to speak.
"Then…'" Janus went on, shuddering at the memory. "That was all that he said, Sir. He turned toward the shadows where we had hidden ourselves, and looked at us. I swear that he laughed, Sir, and though the others looked in our direction without seeing anything, he knew that we were there."
Anomen nodded, lifting his head slightly. "There are spells, Janus. I've no doubt that he was aware of your presence…."
Janus nodded faintly and looked at his hands. "Forgive me, Sir, my Lord, if we have failed you…."
Anomen looked up quickly. "No, Janus." He smiled slightly and reached forward, laying his hand once more on the man's shoulder. "Forgive me. You have served well, and I am more indebted to you than you know. It is my carelessness that put you in danger. I should have known that he would have access to such magic…."
He did not add, Though I was never told….
Janus swallowed hard, still looking at his hands. "We lit out of there like arrows, Sir. To our blessing, they had only begun to close the gates, and we managed to make it through and out of the fortress when he heard the madman's voice calling strange words. Each of us then saw the others, and we knew that we were lost. He had taken our invisibility from us as easily as one takes a blanket from a child." His voice faltered and fell silent, and Anomen could guess without words the rest of the story.
Anomen gave Janus' shoulder a reassuring squeeze and smiled, praying silently that it did not look as forced as it felt.
"You have done well, my friend. Rest now, and I will come to heal you myself in the morning. There is more to say, and if you feel that you are able, I yet have work for you to do."
Janus nodded without a word and lay back on his pillow, closing his eyes with an exhausted sigh. Anomen watched him for a few minutes until the wounded man fell into a much-needed slumber, then rose and silently walked from the tent.
Duncan stood outside, fingering the hilt of his sword distractedly. When he saw Anomen emerge from the doorway, he straightened, looking quickly toward the door of the tent.
"The boy lives?"
Anomen nodded, barely hearing the question. He stood lost in thought for several moments, then looked at Duncan with a serious expression.
"Double the watch. Those who have slept, watch, those who need sleep, sleep. True Sight will be maintained at all times. Is that understood?"
Duncan nodded immediately. "Understood, Sir."
He paused for a long moment, and then said more quietly. "Anomen, I beg you to take some rest now. You are as much a man as any under your command, and cannot expect more of yourself than you do of them."
Duncan laid a hand on Anomen's shoulder. "Know that I will tell you of anything that needs your direct attention, but for now, my friend…."
Anomen nodded and passed a weary hand over his face. "I know, Duncan. I know. I will try, though I can make no promises."
Duncan nodded, satisfied, and moved away, barking orders to any men who stood standing to ready their weapons and take watch. Anomen turned and walked slowly back to his hut, the conversation with Janus still fresh in his mind. There were many things that troubled him, but perhaps none so much as the soldier's description of the cloaked Melanath. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear his thoughts and entered his hut.
The candle had completely burned down, and the room was filled with shadow. He paused only a moment until everything became a little clearer, then walked to the rugged cot in the corner and threw himself upon it, armor and all. Within seconds, a deep exhaustion came over with him and he fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
