Shadows From the Fire
Part 5
A dream.
Dark.
Light.
Shadows fall.
Flickering fire.
Heat.
Hot.
Burning.
Scream.
Sleep.
The castle stood white on the black canvas background, the walls shimmering and twisting in the faint candlelight. They came into sharper focus as the small child worked rapidly. The strokes were hasty yet precise, as if some other force drove this child's hand back and forth, up and down. It was a rapid pace they set, as if working in fear of some horrible consequence; some threat of missing limbs, if the painting was not completed by the morning light.
The dark circles were an indication of little sleep. This child was a creature of the night, a person who did not sleep in the regulated time of sundown to sunrise. Scattered hours, from noon to early evening – perhaps the morning – were favored by this small girl.
She was trying to stay awake.
But why?
The child stepped back from the painting and looked it over with a critical eye that belied her youth. Her movements now were slow and dreamlike, her arms dropping slowly as if pushing against water. The poor girl's face and clothes were stained with paint – ruined – and yet not a pressing matter of concern. The painting was life. The painting was everything.
The painting was the dream.
Ash and mist. Fire and smoke. Black and gray and oblivion swirling together in one great nightmare inducing vortex…
And right in its center there was a window. Through this window the small girl saw a ravaged and raw landscape spread out for miles upon miles in every direction: rocky, hard and arid. Black creatures lumbered forward over this barren terrain, their indefinite forms were blobs on the landscape and, when the light hit them just right, the faint glint of razor sharp, needle teeth could be seen. The castle stood high and bright, a beacon of hope in the dark land…but it was misleading. For the castle was not a stronghold of any paladin or cleric, something else lived in there. Something tentacled…and hungry.
At one point, the castle had belonged to someone else. But that was long ago, in a time where the land wasn't so desolate and bleak. It had been green and fertile, cattle had roamed and the people were well fed and happy. Those times had faded from memory like ripples on a pond. This was a new land, a land of nightmares and of shadows.
Offers had been made, temptations fought, and the sweet, clarion call voice that often heralded the bargain returned once more.
You know this place, child?
I do.
It's yours.
Mine?
This is your land, your kingdom.
This is not my home. My home is…
Where is your home?
My home is…
Where is your home?
Its…
Where is your home?
I…I don't have a home.
Good, child. Very good. Do you know why don't have a home?
Because I'm a horrible, wasteful girl.
And who tells you that?
Father. Father tells me that.
You're not the horrible one, child. He is the horrible one.
He wouldn't say it unless it were true…
He is evil, my child. You must kill him. Slit his throat. Cleanse his taint. Do unto him before he does unto you. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him…
But…
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Destroy him. Smite him. Make him bleed. Make him pay. Retribution.
I can't do that!
You will.
No -
You will free your mind, free yourself of these chains…or I'll send you to your home.
Mercutia shot up; her hands grasping wildly in the air before her as her wild eyes darted about the room for any sign of the voice's owner. Her hair hung in tangled, matted waves from sweat and ice, and her skin was even clammier than usual.
It had been a long time since she had dreamed of her childhood. The paladin thought she had left it all behind her when Drogan had taken her in. For most of her adult life, Mercutia had been blessed with dreamless, restful sleep, but something had awakened inside of her and memories were beginning to resurface. An innocent scent could send her back to the times she had been locked away in a dark closet and even the reflection of light on water reminded her of the scalding baths her mother had made her take – so hot they left her young skin burnt and ruddy.
Even less did she remember her time at Drogan's, though she had been there but a few scant years ago. He was dead now, the loveable dwarf, and with him went to the memories of blue skies and happy picnics on Hilltop. His death had shaken her and as a result of the trauma, she had sectioned away the most painful and joyous memories of him.
I can sit here and analyze myself all day!
Calmer now, the paladin ran a hand over face and pushed her hair back behind her ears. She scrubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and looked blearily about the room. It was still deserted and desolate, a very welcome thing. The Sensei obviously had activities of her own to deal with, Thank Torm!
Deekin was not around, however, and that surprised her. Normally the reptile was hopping about her feet like a dog, causing her to stumble and trip over him. He must have been on watch outside, or something else had happened to him. She didn't begrudge the Slaad who had gobbled him up as a treat. Deekin always said he'd cause bad gas.
Oh, and Valen had gone too.
Most likely for Lanari, thought Mercutia bitterly. She stood, a resigned sigh shaking her body thoroughly. The chill numbed her body and not even the warmth of the Sleeping Man could reach her. There was only one thought that kept Mercutia going: Mephistopheles had to be stopped. For all she knew or cared, the Arch Devil was half way to Silverymoon by now, though she couldn't quite suppress her amusement. The look on Lady Alustriel's face would be priceless. In fact, the paladin felt rather proud that it was only she who could defeat the Lord of the Eighth. That would be something for the priests of Oghma to record!
And of course there was always the benefit of just getting out of the Hells. It's the simple things in life you have to appreciate: hot baths, comfortable beds, escaping Hell. Oh yes, definitely underrated.
But how was she going to do it? There was no sign that said: Big M, this way! Or a helpful visitor's map of Cania, detailing all the hidden doors and portals. There was nothing of interest beyond icy walls and icy winds. Escape seemed nigh impossible without a little divine intervention.
"So what do I do?" she called into the hall. "What trinket do I find or puzzle do I solve in order to be gone from here?"
As if in answer to her questions, green glowing hands rose out of the four altars circulated around the room. They span about in circles, finally merging above the Sleeping Man. A tiny, glimmering object floated up from the ground and was quickly coveted by the spell; floating in the insubstantial arcane matter of which the hand was made. Mercutia boldly plucked it out and examined the artifact carefully between her fingers. She recognized it as the amulet the Sensei had given her earlier; she had left it at the base of the dais. It was nothing ornate or fancy, in fact it was quite ugly…but there was a pulsing jewel at the core of the pendant that whispered to the paladin that all would be well if she wore the necklace.
Mercutia put it around her neck warily and her mind was quickly assaulted with rapid, fast moving images. She tried to follow them all, but eventually her mind became too tired and she struggled to remove the pendant. As soon as the piece of jewelry was gone, the paladin found herself lying flat on her back, staring up at the purple ceiling…but the ceiling had not been that color earlier.
Ignoring the dizziness as she sat up, Mercutia noted the source of the light: a strange, gaudy door had appeared from nowhere. To her sharp eyes, it looked ethereal and transparent, just like the hands that had summoned the Sensate's Amulet, except that instead of it being green it was purple and hazy. No doubt it led to some place particularly dangerous and mind-boggling.
By every god worshiped on every corner of the multi-universe, Mercutia really hated the Planes more than ever.
She stood for the second time and moved towards the door with a purpose. If the Planes wanted to devour her, then let them, but there was something round and shiny behind those doors (if the dreams were true) and Mercutia intended to get it! Boldly she reached forth her hand to touch it…realizing just at the last second that she'd be an idiot if she waltzed into the unknown with her weapons and armor.
The paladin did a circuit of the room, fastening each piece of armor as she found it and strapping Frostblade to her back with tender care. Valen had flung her equipment away when he had tried to take her by force on the altar.
No, not by force, I wanted it too.
No you didn't. Don't lie to try and justify his actions. You are not the villain.
Yes I am, and I don't care what you think.
You should, Mercutia, because I stopped you from making a devastating mistake.
I'm the dominant voice now, girl, so go back to being dormant. We can't both exist inside this head.
You shoved me in here and took control, my other half. We were once whole and then you decided to break away. We're equal.
Not really. Frostblade likes me more.
Never!
Anything is possible. I am my father's child.
We are not his child – we threw that away when we entered service to Torm. You would do well to remember this!
Goodbye.
You can't keep me hidden away forever.
Yes I can.
Mercutia shook her head to shake out the cobwebs, her mind twisting and whirling in confusion. It felt like she was being ripped in half, her two extremes warring within her own body. But surely that couldn't happen, wasn't possible even. One would be driven mad…
She focused her attention the door as it shifted side to side lazily, blown on some invisible current. Her eyes narrowed and the paladin gathered her resolve, bracing herself for whatever unknown fate lay in store for her. Come hell or high water, she was going to get out of this place. Tentatively, Mercutia pressed her palm on the door and pushed it open.
"Boss! Boss, waits for little Deekin!"
Mercutia stepped forward. She was engulfed in blackness and the sound of rushing wings surrounded her…and then everything was gone.
- - - - - - -
Valen shoved his flail into his belt angrily, his tail whipping side to side in a frenzy that matched his mood. He ran a hand through his hair and growled, slamming his fist into a nearby wall. The other occupants of the Reaper's Realm all turned their heads at the noise. Red, blue and gray eyes stared at the tiefling with a mixture of curiosity, sympathy and resentment. Whether his mood was because of his blood or the absence of another…well, no one wanted to speculate in case of razing the tiefling's ire.
"Excuse the understatement, but you seem to be in a fairly foul mood," prompted Nathyrra with a raised eyebrow. "Ever since you returned to us, you have paced and waved your fists around, that's not healthy behavior even for you." She cocked her head to the side, a thoughtful grin on her face. "Care to enlighten the rest of us?"
"Its fairly simple," commented Lanari quietly. "The paladin, right?"
Nathyrra rolled her eyes. "That much is obvious, athiyk. The question is why?"
"Well that's very simple as well," the spirit stood and glided across the floor towards Valen. "You have found yourself to be in disagreement with her. You would not have come back otherwise, my love."
"It is not your concern." Valen shrugged away the light touch on his shoulder.
"Of course it is her concern." Aribeth's voice was gentle, a much welcome change to her earlier attitude. "She cares for you."
Valen kept his distance from the ghost paladin – he didn't trust the righteous tinmen any more than he could throw them. Even though this was a considerable distance, the last paladin he had trusted had crushed his heart beneath her boots and he wasn't willing to let it happen again. He squared his shoulder forward in a defensive, 'I-don't-want-to-talk' manner. His private war with Mercutia was something wasn't willing to make known, considering all the sordid details the tale carried.
"My love, you can tell me anything." Lanari was not so easily swayed and moved before him, ducking her face beneath his. "Truly."
By the Hells, were these women never going to leave him alone? He'd had an easier time killing demons than answering their petty questions. All Valen wanted to do was to go out there, find Mercutia, crush her against him and right all their wrongs. He wanted to save her, even though he knew that he'd die in the process. She was beyond his reach now, warped and changed. He didn't recognize her anymore…but her failings would not be his own.
Lanari touched his face, her fingers momentarily passing through his cheek. "You think of her." She was trying to be his anchor.
Valen nodded and then slowly, ever so slowly, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Lanari obediently folded into his grip. He could only feel the echo of her body against his and he was careful not to squeeze her too hard, less his arms puncture the frail layer of solidity she had. He'd hurt this woman terribly, much more so than Mercutia. He owed her so much, for dealing with him when he was in his deepest cups of rage, for comforting him when things became too unbearable. She had been a servant of Grimash't like himself and the bastard demon had delighted in torturing her before his eyes. Valen had never been gentle with her, if at all that's what she expected, for Lanari had lived as a slave in the Abyss for as long as she could remember.
There was some clarity in his mind – memories that he was sure of – concerning how well he treated her. She'd been his first love and partner…but there had been no tenderness. Forced to live each day accepting his violent existence, he was well aware that Lanari's kind spirit and suffered at his rough hands. There were countless bruises and scrapes, black eyes and apologies uncounted…but the girl had never complained and had always stuck by him, loving him even as she dressed her own wounds. She claimed she was used to it and took all his feeble excuses with a kind smile.
After two hundred lashes by a demon whip because she was found in the bed of a prized soldier and play toy, a split lip hardly caused her pain.
"If I were Mercutia, I would never allow for such feeble competition to exist." The drow assassin licked her lips thoughtfully. "It is rivvil weakness. Losing my jaluk to a gul? And a mere memory of one at that…I think not."
"Nathyrra, please, there is more to this than we know about," scolded Aribeth. "You would do well not to take any force of action upon our leader's behalf."
"I warn you, spirit," Nathyrra flipped one of her daggers into the air, "that our leader may appear to be some fluffy, do-gooder paladin, but don't be fooled. She will kill you if she thinks you're a threat to her."
Aribeth sighed and shook her head. "Mercutia would never do that, Lanari. She is too strong in her faith and has too kind a heart."
The drow shrugged her shoulders. "Trace your own footsteps in the snow, jalil, and see just where you ended your life."
"That was different, Nathyrra," said the paladin quietly. "I betrayed my people when they murdered my love in their search for justice. Mercutia should be beyond and above such petty things as jealousy. Paladins can not afford to be so childish in their pursuits."
"Obviously we are not speaking of the same person," Nathyrra waved away her next comment. "Forget that we've even spoken about this."
"You must have faith in her, assassin. She is a true hearted person and whatever darkness she faces, she will defeat it."
As Valen stood with Lanari in his arms, he was not quite so sure she could.
- - - - - - -
"Finally!" Mercutia yelled, holding the glittering ring up to the smoky light of the temple. Twelve skeletons, a guardian and two hours of puzzle solving later, she had discovered the mystery of the Sleeping Man's ring. The light glinted off the large purple stone set in its center, winking its thanks at her. Truth be told, it was rather gaudy and all around ugly, making Mercutia doubt the craftsmanship of divine beings as this was the second planar piece of jewelry that was just plain horrible. Just my luck that bad guys get great looking armor, jewelry and weapons.
The ring's little secret was that when worn, it allowed the wearer to see into the Ethereal Plane. She had a sneaking suspicion that in order to get to the Knower of Names, Mercutia would have to follow the Sleeping Man's footsteps, and with this ring she could clearly see their blue outline in the stone. They led right back to the door from whence she came…
"Boss! Boss!"
The paladin forced a smile at the sight of the kobold's appearance. "So you found me, Deekin. Good work, it must have been so hard."
"Well," Deekin began, "Boss sends Valen away and Deekin not hear Boss call him back, so Deekin waits. That Sensei is creepy lady, keep giving Deekin strange looks and Deekin not able to stand it no more. So Deekin goes looking for Boss and sees her walk through portal. Deekin yell 'wait!' but Boss not hears. So Deekin follows."
"Deekin," said Mercutia slowly, "I have been down here for a long time. Now you said you followed me…so what took so long?"
Deekin gave a toothy smile. "Deekin gets lost."
"Figures." Mercutia groaned and rolled her eyes. She began to walk towards the door, coming ever closer to Deekin. "I have to find the Knower of Names and I've got the means to do it. Can you keep up or will you slow me down?"
"Deekin can run!" exclaimed the excited kobold. "You needs Deekin to write epic tale and Deekin not able to do that when not around Boss."
"What if I don't want an epic tale written about me?" countered Mercutia, quickly grabbing him by a scaly hand and dragging him along the floor and to the door. "What if I want to be left alone?"
Deekin knew he couldn't win against the vice like grip. "All heroes like epic stories. Makes heroes feel important. Boss gets bragging rights if book make it big."
"Bragging rights? Now why on earth would I want those?" the paladin asked.
"Because Boss is witty, brave and Deekin is but worm," squeaked the kobold.
"Hmmm…don't forget beautiful and intelligent."
"Yes, Boss!"
" Now, be quick on those toes of yours, Deekin. I'm not about to carry you," warned the half-elf, pulling him through the doorway and back to the Sleeping Man's chamber, following the blue footprints.
Deekin nodded furiously, his little legs scrabbling for traction as Mercutia dragged him along. "Deekin be quick as…quick as…"
The paladin picked up the pace. This was going to be a long trek.
- - - - - - -
Nathyrra was now using the nonfunctional portal doors as targets for her knife throwing. "How long have we been here, Reaper?"
The Reaper raised its hooded head at the question. "You have been in Cania for a standard five days on your plane."
"Only five days?" The drow lined up her target. "How quickly can an Arch Demon gather his forces, Valen?"
The tiefling, from where he sat in a corner, lifted his head from off his muscular forearms. "It would depend on his army. Were he summoning other demon troops, his full strength may take days in relation to his power. However, he is using souls of the Lost to raise his spirit army…he should be attacking the Prime as we speak."
Aribeth shook her head in disbelief. "This is unbelievable. Mercutia needs to return to us and quickly, for she is the only one who can stop the Dread Lord."
Nathyrra let fly her dagger. "She might never come back."
"That is unacceptable." Aribeth was slightly unnerved. "She will return to us, Torm will guide her."
"Perhaps you can't feel the cold because - " Nathyrra wasn't allowed to finish her sentence.
"I can feel it, I'll have you know, it affects me worse than it does you," said Aribeth serenely.
"Well Mercutia's out there with only that ridiculous kobold and the whole of Cania against her. You can sit here and claim it's unacceptable, but you'd be a hypocrite if you did." Nathyrra launched a dagger through the air.
It passed right through Aribeth's forehead.
"If Mercutia does not return, the blame lies with me," growled Valen quietly. "So do not waste your strength over a thing in which you are not concerned!"
Lanari snuggled closer against him. "It is not your fault, my love."
Valen sighed and closed his eyes, wanting to scream in frustration.
- - - - - - -
"As if it wasn't bad enough that we had to fight a gauntlet of Demon Knights, now I have to throw this thing over!" Mercutia kicked the catapult with her foot, very upset at what had transpired over her journey. She'd lost her clothes, been chased by a pack of rabid wolves, had Deekin clinging to her back and been attacked by the Royal Frost Giant Army. There was something seriously wrong with Cania's wasteland.
"Boss, can Deekin open eyes now?" asked the Kobold.
Mercutia had made Deekin close his eyes while she had used her 'Grappling Hand' to pull her from ledge to ledge. Deekin didn't like long falls. "No, Deekin, we're hanging precariously from a precipice and I'm wondering how I'm going to throw this catapult over without losing my grip and falling into the pool of hot lava below us."
"Ok, Deekin not opens eyes."
"You do that," said the paladin, patting the scaly hand on her shoulder. Her fingers brushed the Sensei's amulet lightly and she felt a tingle run down her spine.
"Um, why is Boss's shoulder so hard now?" asked Deekin, his fingers losing their grip. "Deekin be worried now…Deekin falling!" His hands flailed in the air and the kobold fell backwards into the hard snow. "Ow, Boss, that not be nice way to treat faithful side kick. We not hanging from ledge at all!"
Mercutia opened her mouth to speak but found she didn't have one. She panicked, feeling the suffocation of some weird change overcome her. Her body was morphing, bulking up and her armor was being absorbed into her skin. Her legs were growing longer and she was losing her hair. Her skin was rough and abrasive. She was large, brown and her eyes a fiery red.
"Boss is earth elemental!" shrieked Deekin. "Boss has changed again!"
The paladin calmed quickly when she realized that it was just the magic of the amulet at work – she would change back eventually…but why turn into this form? And then it dawned on her: the catapult.
Mercutia stepped forward, her massive frame threatening to knock over Deekin, and easily lifted the demon weapon above her head.
"Whoa!" clapped the bard. "Deekin writes this down!"
With a small flick of her powerful arms, the catapult was sailing across the ravine and onto the other bank. It was lucky she hadn't hesitated because already she was shrinking back to her normal height.
"Can Boss teach Deekin that?"
Mercutia smirked as her mouth formed once again. Her skin returned back to its normal, eerie appearance and it wasn't long before the paladin was once again herself, armor, weapons and all.
Frostblade, who had been suspiciously silent, scolded Mercutia for her irresponsible use of magical tools. The paladin rolled her eyes and received a jolt of pain from the sword's end of the link.
That wasn't very nice, Frostblade.
Frostblade didn't care if she was nice or not – the sword didn't like to lose her identity and Mercutia should have known that by now. She gave her another shock as a reminder.
Don't push it, sword.
"Boss?"
"Yes, Deekin?" Mercutia raised an eyebrow at him.
The kobold stared innocently enough at her. "Why you looks like you got cramps? Deekin notice that sometimes Boss go very silent and look as though Boss need to go to bathroom really bad."
"You see, Deekin," began the half-elf, "I have quite a headache. You are the cause of it, much like the other ones I get." She raised a hand to her forehead and glared at the Kobold. "So if you want to do me a favor, you can keep your big mouth shut and leave me alone!"
Large tears glittered in Deekin's child like eyes. "Deekin worships ground Boss walk on! Honest! Please not be so angry at Deekin! Please!"
"Then keep quiet!" Mercutia snapped, picking him up in her arms and unleashing the Grappling Hand to pull them across the ravine.
"Deekin be quiet. Not a peep from Deekin to Boss. Deekin silent as - "
"DEEKIN!" screeched the paladin, her face and posture angry. "JUST DON'T SAY ANYTHING OR I'LL…I'LL CUT OUT YOUR TONGUE!"
Very good, Mercutia, no wonder everybody wants to be your friend…
Be quiet, witch. You aren't welcome here anymore.
You're the taint, not I.
You don't deserve this place. I am my father's daughter.
You are nothing but an angry coward.
Better than a sniveling servant to a deity who doesn't care. Be gone.
You can't shut me away for forever.
Come out again and you'll answer to Frostblade.
Frostblade would never serve you. She works for the forces of good.
We'll see about that.
Deekin gave a swift nod and bowed his head, his hands shaking at his side.
Mercutia's internal wars were beginning to show themselves openly now. The two nagging voices, one good and one bad, played for dominance of her soul. And they wanted Frostblade. They surfaced and resurfaced one side becoming more dominant and then receding back as if it had never even existed. Why she was suffering from these severe mood swings, Mercutia didn't know, but the effect they were having was beginning to scar her. It was like her mind and body weren't even in her control at times. It was terrifying.
"I'm…I'm sorry, Deekin," Mercutia crouched into the snow next to her small friend. "I don't know what came over me." She reached out a hand to touch the kobold's head, but he flinched away.
Your apology did nothing, girl.
Your avarice has done this to him.
Justify it as you want, but doing the right thing doesn't seem to be working…does it? Hmmm?
You know nothing of which you speak.
"Fine then," said the paladin quietly, "cower as you will. I do not have time for this." She stood, stalking to the catapult and wondering if she could hurl rocks onto the various ice panels surrounding them. Conveniently, there was a large pile near one of the panels in front of her. The wind froze the joints of her armor, but Mercutia was able to manage a brisk jog to the stones. As she stooped down to pick one up, she saw the image of a woman beneath the ice. It had just been a glimpse, but this woman looked oddly like the Knower of Places. This must have been the correct prison.
Dragging the large stone as best she could, Mercutia finally managed to get it back to the catapult. Unfortunately, she didn't have the strength to lift it up and secure it within the device. The paladin really didn't want to change back into the Earth Elemental, but if there was no other alternative…the Grappling Hand! She was quick to drag it out of the pack, cooing to it so that it would remain still.
"Hand," she said, "I know you are of great strength and I am but a weak, female half-elf, so I must ask you to grant me a boon. Will you place this stone," she tapped the rock with her hand, "into the catapult?" she then touched the catapult's head.
The hand slithered under the stone and with a loud Pop! propelled both itself and the rock up and forward, reloading the catapult efficiently and effectively.
"Thank you," Mercutia placed the hand back in her sack. "Now, to aim this thing…" She nudged the catapult left and right, closing one eye and judging both distance and direction. Typically she'd have made Valen or Deekin stand as a target for her, but Mercutia had used similar siege weaponry in the ridges behind them. This was just like aiming for a moving Pit Fiend…
…and away the stone flew, arching through the air and shattering the ice of the ghostly woman's prison.
Mercutia rushed towards the open hole, Frostblade drawn just in case. As she approached, an icy gust of wind began to blow, picking up snow and ice shards, blinding all those within it. The paladin had to close her eyes against the swirling vortex it created, shielding her face from the jagged debris that threatened to cut it. It intensified and Mercutia felt as though she was going to be swept away…but just as she thought she could fight against it no longer…it vanished.
The half-elf opened her eyes.
"Thank you Donita'ar the Blessed, Light of Cania, and the agent of my freedom. Long have I waited to speak your name to you to show my gratitude."
Mercutia stared in awe at the beautiful, ethereal woman before her. She knew who this was. "You are the Knower of Names."
The woman gave a slow smile. "I have been known as the Knower of Names among the tongues of men and the devils call me an ancient baatorian. But my True Name is spoken in the tongue of power, written upon the stars by the very gods."
"Well, that's very nice," said Mercutia with a smile of her own. "You must have been here a long time to be considered an ancient baatorian."
"How long is an age in an ageless place?" The woman gave a small sigh. "I can give no certain figure except to say that I have been here since the False Rebellion of Baron Molikroth."
"Oh?" Mercutia knew that time was running out for her home. "That must have been a long time…and I wish we had more of it, but right now it's of the essence." She bit her lip and forced her hand. "Mephistopheles is creating an army on the Prime, hoping to take dominion over it. They say you know the names of all things…I must know them."
"Ah, True Names... " The Knower nodded her head in understanding. "Every name has its price and every price a name. The gods declare it so."
"What is the price?" demanded the paladin. "And be quick, dear spirit."
"The gods demand a sacrifice of 200,000 gold if you are to learn of a True Name... Are you willing to make that sacrifice?"
Mercutia gasped in panic. She had enough gold for only two names but there were so many…if a True Name held power, she could stop Mephistopheles without fighting him…but she needed the name of the Reaper first.
"Yes, here you are. Tell me the name of Mephistopheles."
"I…I can not," said the Knower quietly. "He forbade me to ever speak his name. Forgive me and my heart that loved him but that is one name I cannot tell you... Perhaps there is another?"
I need the Reaper's Name and I need Mephistopheles'! This is not fair!
Ask for her True Name, child.
Yes, Mercutia would ask the Knower of her True Name and demand that she tell the rest…True Names did command all that you were…
"Now whose True Name do you wish to know?" prompted the Knower of Names.
"I wish to know yours," Mercutia held out five money pouches. "Let the gods take their payment from their servant."
"Though you know me as the Knower of Names, I am called Phyreshi the Knower in the gods' tongue..." said the Knower quietly. "What now do you wish to learn?"
"Everything."
The Knower bowed her head in understanding. "There is a dreadful price for this. Are you willing to pay it?"
Mercutia nodded. "I have to."