Shadows From the Fire
Part 6
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The last chapter…
Note: it gets a little hot towards the middle.
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With a flourish of shining armor and snowy wind, Mercutia again entered the Reaper's Realm for hopefully the last time. Deekin fell in to step behind her, his eyes wide and darting nervously from side to side. She raised a hand in greeting, inhaling sharply as a stab of pain lanced through her head, but she managed to conceal it with a smile and arrogantly pushed her way into the center of her group. The hero had returned and all would welcome her.
Aribeth touched her arm eagerly. "Have you discovered the Reaper's True Name, Mercutia? Are we to fight Mephistopheles, now?"
The paladin nodded her head slowly. "Yes, I know the Reaper's True Name and soon Aribeth, soon Mephistopheles will be defeated, I just have some things I need to take care of first."
Aribeth frowned, but stood aside as Mercutia headed to the dais, ascending the stairs and standing before the Reaper. She leaned close, her gaze lost in the dark depth's beneath its hood. "I have come to free myself, Hecugoth the Abandoned, and I command you to grant me passage home," she whispered.
The Reaper nodded his head. "You have learned my True Name, I see... Very well, I have summoned a door that will return you to the one you know as Durnan, in Waterdeep. But, before you go, is there anything else you would have me do?"
Mercutia thought about this. The Sleeping Man was long gone from Cania by now, so those pilgrims could go home… "Allow the Githzerai Pilgrims to return home." They were cluttering the place up and their attitudes really left a lot to be desired. Besides, let the Gith wage their kindred wars, it was of no concern to her.
"As you command, Sojourner. I will return them safely to their home in Limbo. Is there anything else?" The Reaper's voice was neutral, but Mercutia swore she heard a hint of irony laced among the even tones.
She grinned at him, and then took a look over her shoulder to gaze at Lanari, huddled next to Valen. Should spirits like her be let free? It was an interesting question, but Mercutia's answer had been made the moment the spirit had touched Valen's face. "No, that will be all, Reaper."
"Finally!" exclaimed Aribeth eagerly. "Have you finished? Can we return back now?" Her enthusiasm was welcome.
Mercutia's smile, however, was brittle as her fatigue increased. Her energy was being leached away by the Knower of Names, the greatest and most expensive price for her trickery. She had all the names she desired but not the strength to use them. In another hour she would be dead and all the knowledge to defeat the Lord of the Eighth would die with her. And that was unacceptable.
There was one way to save herself, one last small order of business to attend to. But it was better do it without the presence of innocents.
She motioned for Deekin to step forward and pointed to the glowing door. "Deekin, through the gate and back to Toril. Hide when you get there and wait for my signal. Off you go!"
The kobold gave a small yip of obedience. "Right-o, Boss!" and he trotted forward, brushing past Valen with a forlorn stare and was soon through the portal, gone from their plane forever.
And here we stand at odds once again, Mercutia.
Yes, we are at the end of our road, are we not?
A sudden blinding pain wracked Mercutia's body in a most terrible way. Her fingers flexed and her strong frame shook violently. Sweat poured onto her forehead and she collapsed forward, her eyes rolling back into her head as she tumbled down the dais stairs.
Not quite, my better half, you see, we are merely at a fork.
A fork? What mean you?
Nathyrra was closest and knelt by the paladin's side, taking out her knife and thrusting the pommel sideways into her mouth so Mercutia's didn't bite off or swallow her tongue. The drow showed no signs of fear as white foam frothed from the half-elf's lips and coated the tips of her fingers in sticky saliva. "Come on, my friend, fight it!"
You realize that we are dying. Yes?
Unfortunately, my malicious twin.
Lanari buried her face into Valen's chest as the tiefling watched in shock as Mercutia's body arched backwards, despite the armor.
The scars of war on our body ache as if they were fresh wounds, our mind is sullied by hot fire and cold water…you know that we can not defeat Mephistopheles like this. We will die instantly the minute we set foot back in Waterdeep…and we are honor bound to stop him at any cost.
Yes, it is imperative that he be destroyed. It is the right thing to do…but we can not fulfill this duty…Torm help us!
"Help me!" yelled Nathyrra, trying to keep the knife in place with out breaking the paladin's neck.
Yes we can, my virtuous defender, we can fulfill our vow to Torm and Toril.
How?
Aribeth murmured a few words and knelt next to Nathyrra; a golden glow radiating from the hands she placed on her fellow paladin's temples. "Come back to the light, Mercutia, come back from wherever you are."
There are four True Names at our disposal.
You can not mean…
Mercutia's body sagged heavily back to the ground and she twisted her head to remove the weapon from her mouth. Her eyes darted to the nervous faces above her and weakly she sat forward, shrugging away the help offered. She put her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. This was not happening!
The Arch Devil is devouring the souls of his subjects to fuel his strength and his army. We have been cursed, Mercutia, cursed for knowing what is our right to know. Our strength wanes and our body fails…you heard the words of the Knower, you know the price we must pay for victory. She would not tell us the True Name of Mephistopheles so we had to buy hers to learn. What she did was unfair and we must suffer for her selfishness – but we will do our duty.
I do not want to do this! To devour another's soul is wrong!
"There is nothing I can do," whispered Mercutia.
I am sorry, Mercutia, that your precious ideals mean more to you than over a billion lives. My mistake, we shall let Toril burn for your conscience.
I…I do not know!
"Mercutia, are you alright?" Nathyrra wiped her hand on her pant leg and then touched the paladin's shoulder gently. "You scared us half to death!"
No matter what we do, we will be damned. If we do not heal, we will die and Mephistopheles will own Toril. If we heal, then we have just robbed people of their lives and the longer we delay the more lives we will have to take.
Would Torm…would Torm still want us if we…fed?
"Actually I'm…hungry, believe it or not," replied the half-elf quietly.
No. He would no longer accept us because our act was evil, so very, very evil. But there are other deities.
Torm put us in this position and he will no longer accept us!? What type of god are you, my lord!? Torm, you have forsaken me…
"You're hungry?" Aribeth shook her head in disbelief. "Really, Mercutia, that's all you can say after giving us such a scare?"
There has ever been a fine line between a good intention and an evil act. We will survive no matter what. The end must justify the means…and this is justified.
…so I forsake you. We heal, we become one, and we destroy the Arch Devil.
"Well, what am I supposed to say? I told you the truth, didn't I?" snapped Mercutia.
Pick three.
Not Valen…
Aribeth looked mildly affronted but Mercutia just sighed and hung her head. "Look, I'm sorry, Aribeth. I just feel so hot and constrained…come outside for some fresh air with me? It'll do us all some good."
And so Aribeth led a limping Mercutia out into the icy air of Cania, thus meeting her end in its cold light as Mercutia devoured her soul. A hot flush of pleasure coursed up and down the paladin's spine as her friend's essence healed the wounds on her body. She limped back in and gave a call for Nathyrra. To the drow's credit, she did not scream or cry as her body disappeared in a flash of light. They had said no words as Nathyrra's soul entered into her own. It was a wonderful sensation, a feeling of fulfillment…but there was one soul that Mercutia yet desired above all others.
The paladin walked with heavy steps back into the Gatehouse. Valen and Lanari stood side by side, their faces surprised at her lone return.
"Where are Nathyrra and Aribeth?" asked Valen, "they do not return with you…"
"Don't worry about them, Valen," she gave him a gentle smile, the same she had given him in the Seer's camp.
Lanari's eyes widened in alarm.
Mercutia turned a curious stare on the spirit. "Now, now, why do you look so afraid? You would think I was some sort of monster!" she gave a quiet chuckle. I am one and I am whole…I feel complete.
Living with demons had made the spirit a particularly astute judge of speech. Besides, she could see the red and blue essences swirling about in Mercutia's breast. "She has…she has…"
Mercutia raised an elegant white eyebrow. "Ah, so the little slave is on to me. You are much cleverer than you look." She gave a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. "And I suppose you know what I'm going to do next."
Lanari nodded quickly, her grip tightening on Valen's arm.
Valen frowned and placed a gentle hand on Lanari's lower back. "What have you done with Nathyrra and Aribeth, my lady?" his voice was stern.
Mercutia didn't even acknowledge him, instead focused all her energy on the ghost. Any more delays meant she would have to absorb Valen too. "Mexethansialoa the Forgotten…"
Lanari quickly turned Valen, her hands reaching up to cup his face. "I regret our lost time, but I have found you once more, my love, and before my final end I want you to know that I always love you."
"…I order you to give me your soul."
Lanari was reaching up to kiss Valen's lips when, with a scream and flash of red light, she was no more.
Mercutia titled her head back and led the essence wash over her. It was the final lock on the door behind her and her key to salvation all at once. The red twisted about her, staining the white armor gray and black, sapping the gentleness from her features and turning them harsh and beautiful. The eyes were darker, the smile crueler and the shadows more defined. Her health improved tenfold, she felt like she could rip up a mountain and hurl it from here to Mount Celestia…and she was happy! Valen was hers and hers alone.
And yet a small part of her was regretful…
From its place on her back, Frostblade gently entered Mercutia's mind. You can not go back now, not even if you wanted to…
The paladin started at the intrusion – but then she was not so terribly surprised. Still, the question was 'why now?'
Because you were not ready, daughter. The sword caressed her thoughts softly. Always were you torn in two, stuck between your true nature and your false one…but now you have found your truth path and you are stable in both heart and mind. Worry not about this choice, for it was your destiny. I am here, as I always was and always will be. Until death, my child.
Mercutia smiled, comforted by this. Frostblade had always looked out for her, even when she was a child and was not strong enough to wield the blade. She had shielded Mercutia's mind from the horrors of the Shadow Plane and allowed the paladin to take what resolve from the sword's iron will she could. Frostblade was something not of this world. She was not evil, but certainly no where near good and very far from neutral. Yet she was Mercutia's boon and what Frostblade counseled, Mercutia would follow.
Your old life is barred to you, child. The moment you became complete and recognized that to become a hero you had to damn yourself in order to save everyone else…that's when your god left you. Your god would have sacrificed everyone to see his faith retained. Is that true goodness? No, child, the bittersweet taste of your Drow friend's friendship, the over sweetened flavor of the traitor's false hope and the succulent texture of the girl's love have fortified your strength against the real darkness. Do not deny these feelings, Mercutia, for they are a part of you, they are in your blood and they can NOT be ignored. Your god is gone from you, but both reason and I are still here. There are other gods…other places. You will survive.
She was…right. Frostblade was right. This was her sacrifice to save the world; she had given up her soul to save an entire plane…a little angry ambivalence could damn her no more than taking another life. She had no one but herself to rely on, the church would scorn her and her remaining family were too scared of her…no, it was just she, Frostblade and Valen against the world.
Frostblade was pleased.
Valen, however, would need some convincing.
He stood looking at her in fury, his hands clenching and unclenching and his body shaking violently.
Mercutia gave a sad smile. He must have felt so betrayed, so angry…
The words he flung at her were low and deadly. "You did the same to the others, did you not? How could you…"
"Well, doing it was the easy part," replied Mercutia flippantly. "It's just a matter of saying the True Name and ordering what you want, why I had to do it is harder to explain."
"Then please do," said Valen through gritted teeth.
"The Knower of Names would not tell me Mephistopheles' unless I commanded her to. As a result, I learnt more names than I paid for and the gods have been sapping my health ever since. What you witnessed was me dying."
"You stole the souls of your comrades!" he roared.
"To save Toril!" yelled Mercutia back. "Would you let the Prime suffer his wrath just so you could spend time with your ghost! You are a selfish beast, Valen, to let so many suffer for your happiness!"
He took a menacing step towards her. "So you damn yourself and others? There are other ways!"
"There were no other ways." The paladin raised a hand. "You have to understand."
The tiefling shook his head. "I can not, my lady, understand why would so willingly commit such an act of evil. After all you have told me, how I can fight my blood by looking for a purpose…I do not know what happened to you after I left, but you are not the woman I met in the Seer's camp. Mercutia would never do this."
That really stung. "How can you say that, Valen?" said Mercutia quietly, "after all I have sacrificed for you. I let you have my heart but you beat it like some war drum and now it is bruised and raw from your ministrations. I gave up my humanity for you and the rest of the people on Toril. Am I not worthy of at least a little praise? Can you not still - "
"I can not love you," interrupted Valen. "To do so would be unbearable. I would lose all that I have achieved and gain nothing. I sought your light, Mercutia, not your darkness. I have enough of my own."
With an overly dramatic sigh, the paladin shrugged her shoulders and the demure exterior. "You will not love me?" Mercutia repeated slowly, harshly…and then she gave a lazy, cat like grin. An idea was forming. "Freely, you will not love me…"
"Mercutia," Valen tilted his head in warning.
The paladin mirrored his action. "Tsk, tsk, Valen, I didn't want to do this, but…" She pointed her finger at him. "Oeskathine the Demonwrestler…"
His back arched at the call of his True Name. "Mercutia, please! Do not - "
"I bind you to me as my lover forever!" Her smile turned covetous and she crooked a finger in a 'come hither' motion.
Valen sneered in disgust and resisted her beckon. "You would force me to love you, my lady?"
The blackguard shrugged her shoulders. "I would. I gave too much up for you to lose you now. If you will not love me freely," she strode towards him, "then I will take what love I can get from you. I own you," her hips swaggered, "body and soul. You do not frighten me."
Valen held his ground; his body shaking as it tried to resist the command Mercutia had put on him. He stared at her, his blue eyes cold and his jaw clenched. His voice was strained as he spoke. "So be it... my love. Your mastery over me knows no bounds. Should I ever free myself, however...I will kill you. Trust me on that."
Mercutia laughed and encircled her arms about his waist. "You're so sexy when you're mad," she growled as she groped his backside roughly, giving it hard a squeeze. His tail twitched madly and the smooth scales rubbed against her. Curiously, her hands slipped up its length while her mouth nibbled the skin of his neck. The long, sinewy appendage went still as her fingertips glided up and down in a very provocative motion. Her lips bit him hard and Valen arched his body into hers.
She slipped a hand to the hard breastplate on his stomach and trailed it down, reaching the straining codpiece. She grinned, tracing the line his breeches that poked through the seams. "Bodies are very unreliable things," she whispered hotly in his hear. And if his ragged breathing, straining armor, and heated body were any indication, he was very, very, happy.
Valen, meanwhile, stared off into space. He was embarrassed, ashamed and most of all hurt by this betrayal. Her ministrations were nothing short of releasing his inner-demon and he was fruitlessly trying to hold on to the sliver of control he had left. The Seer, Lanari, their work had been in vain.
The blackguard noticed his distance, knowing what it was that gnawed at him. A forceful display of her control over his body would gain her no ground. She stopped what she was doing, not caring if he was left on the brink of release, and trailed her hands up his back, over his chest and to his neck. She let her soft touches linger there, smoothing the skin in feather light strokes before continuing up to his face. Her fingers traced his strong jaw and moved to his eyes, following the curve of his eyebrows. They came to rest on his temples and slowly she maneuvered him so that his eyes were locked with hers. Her thumbs idly smoothed his skin. She leant her face close to his and whispered to his lips, her eyes never leaving his, "kiss me."
Valen resisted the command at first, closing his eyes to fight away the summons of the blackguard's call. Yet his resolve could not last forever and he soon gave in. He closed the small gap between them and kissed her tenderly. He nibbled softly on her lower lip, feeling Mercutia part her lips so that he could slip his tongue into her warm, wet mouth. Her taste was different, her smell was different, the feel of her beneath his hands was still the same though. He touched the small of he back and the curve of her waist, knowing that beneath the armor she wore there was soft, vulnerable flesh.
He pictured a happier time, holding her by a campfire in the Underdark and kissing away the woes of her troubled past. She was crying, he felt her tears on his face and he moved to wipe them away. The firelight made her eyes dance and he wanted nothing more than to stop time and savor the feeling of their joined bodies and pressed lips. All he could ever want now was to find a quiet place, away from the Valsharess's threat, and love her as passionately and tenderly as she deserved.
He pulled away slowly, his embittered tears streaming down his cheeks in silver rivulets. That was a dream as good as dead. "I hope this makes you happy, my lady," he growled. He turned his head away and studied the floor, refusing to look Mercutia in the eyes.
The blackguard gave a sigh. Well, at least it was a start. "It won't be as bad as you think," she said gently.
"There is an Arch Devil to fight, my love," reminded Valen savagely, "you gave up your soul to destroy him. You should make good on the sacrifice!"
Mercutia gave a half smile. At least he hadn't lost his spunk. "Very well then, my love, let's join with Deekin. I have a special treat for our good friend the Lord of the Eighth." She took Valen by the hand and nodded to the Reaper. This was where the prophecy ended.
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As Mercutia exited through the portal, Valen right behind her, she was assaulted by the smell of blood and brimstone. "Good gods, what is that smell!" She shook her head and found Mephistopheles not too far away, Deekin huddled behind some rubble hiding from sight. "Oh, its just you."
Mephistopheles turned, his face smiling with malicious pleasure. "Ah! Good morning, m'lady." The Arch Devil leered down at her. "Do you come here often? ...Forgive me if I seem gauche but, last I recall, I had trapped you for all eternity in an icy little place called Cania."
The blackguard smiled charmingly. "Hell froze over, sorry."
"How very witty! It is a shame you did not like dearest Cania, really. I thought I was being very gallant leaving it for you. Imagine: you could have been Lady of the Eighth. An aspiration any mortal should leap for, don't you think?" The devil fingered his weapon lovingly.
"Let's cut the nonsense, shall we, Dread Lord? You're existence ends here, I'm afraid." Mercutia beckoned Deekin from out of his hiding place with a small flick of her wrist.
"You and which army, foolish mortal? I dare say it seems they have run off and left you alone to face me. A pity." Mephistopheles sighed, his eyes flickering between her and the warrior next to her before making up his mind on what to say. "But I do see that the young tiefling still deigns to travel with you...Valen Shadowbreath, is it not? A pleasure to meet you, my young man. The reputation of one such a yourself precedes you."
"We've nothing to say to one another, devil," Valen snarled. "You are baatezu and I am tanar'ri. There can be nothing but death between us."
"Oh?" Mephistopheles smiled slowly. "But you are mostly human. What if I was to tell you that I could relieve you of that demonic taint forever? I could free you from the Blood Wars, young man. What would that be worth, I wonder?"
Valen was sorely tempted by the offer and he considered the implication: he could leave Mercutia and be free…yet devils never kept their word, that much he knew. But then he didn't have to decide: he felt the call of his True Name upon Mercutia's lips. He was bound and no Arch Devil's bargain could ever free him. "I am bound to Mercutia, Arch Devil, by a force stronger than your own. I will not side with you."
"Again, a pity," the Devil was quick to shrug away his disappointment upon Deekin's appearance. "Oh my! Now... who is this you have with you, Mercutia? Not a kobold, but a veritable dragon! Bristling with power! Tell me, little one, why do you chase after Mercutia like some lost servant when you could be so much more?"
Deekin stared at the Arch Devil with surprise. "Is you talking to Deekin?"
Mephistopheles laughed. "Is there any reason I shouldn't speak to you, little one? You have achieved power enough to surpass any simple dragon. You have achieved your potential as no other kobold has before you!"
The kobold shook his head. "Deekin greater than Old Master? No, that not be right..."
"Of course it is right, little one. Come, join me. What has Mercutia done but hold you back from your potential? I could make you a force that all dragons would bow down to in fear! All the world would know your name, Deekin, and fear it!" Mephistopheles hoped that he was getting through to the small creature.
Deekin turned to Mercutia, his eyes wide and full of question. "Boss, you likes Deekin?"
Mercutia gave a quiet chuckle. "Of course I like you, Deekin. Who else is going to write about my exploits?"
"You forgives Deekin?" asked the timid kobold.
"There is nothing to forgive," reassured the blackguard. Deekin hadn't seen the monster she had become…not yet.
Deekin turned his big eyes on the Arch Devil, gone was the innocent demeanor and the dragon's rage took over. "YOU MAY BE BIGGER THAN THE BOSS, BUT DEEKIN NOT LIKES YOU!"
Mephistopheles growled in frustration. "You can not stop me, try what you might, little mortal. I know you and your methods far too well."
"Do you really?" Mercutia asked with a smirk, she had yet to draw her sword. "Well, then you should have seen this coming. Thra'axfyl the Ambitious, I command you to stop this carnage!"
The Arch Devil arched his back in rage. "NO! My... My True Name! You've commanded me! Where did you learn it? Rrraugh, but I must obey! What...what is it you wish of me, mistress? How must I serve you?"
The blackguard put a finger to her lips. "That's an interesting question, but there's not enough room on the planes for the both of us. I command you to die, and be quick about it!"
"NO!" yelled the Arch Devil, rushing towards her even as he vanished in a flash of red light.
"You belong in Hell, Mephistopheles," said Mercutia to the ash-ridden air. "Toril is my playground." Taking a deep breath, the blackguard craned her neck and looked about the area. "Why is there no one here to worship me?" she growled. "I go through all that work just so that no one can see it. Great. Just great."
She set out in search for the townsfolk, Valen trailing slowly after her. Sweat was dripping off him and onto the ground – the sun hadn't even risen and already it was boiling hot! Or perhaps it was just the heat that had generated from him at Mephistopheles' offer. The conflicting emotions inside him swirled about rapidly; he couldn't have taken the offer no matter how much he had wanted to. Mephistopheles would say anything to turn him against Mercutia and Mercutia would do anything to keep him by her side. She had his True Name, she owned him. Where she led, he would follow…even if his steps were not as light as they had once been.
Deekin looked to his hero and not for the first time did his small mind comprehend the enormous power she wielded. She was so strong that is cared him, but he was no more so afraid than he had been Tymofarrar. Unwittingly he had traded one master for another, a fact that Deekin didn't understand in his innocent naivete. He knew no different and thus couldn't find reason to complain.
His large, black eyes looked adoringly up to her form. "Boss does great things?" he chirped to Mercutia as she passed him, as if still unsure that all was well between him and the blackguard.
Mercutia stopped at his side and patted his head fondly. She looked down at him over her shoulder. "Oh yes, Deekin, the Boss will do great things." She chuckled softly. The first rays of light glinted off her hair as she moved silently away.
Deekin turned to look at the sunrise. It was a time for reflection…how many other dawns like this had he seen? How many more were in his future? The sky was so brilliantly red and yellow it made his eyes hurt. He lowered his head and shifted his pack on his shoulders, ready to begin a new adventure. The kobold sighed; another day, another tale to write.
As he turned, Frostblade made a quick, clean stroke.
The End