Chapter 21
Donnia was pleased with her new armor. It fit her just as well as Grot'yah's had and weighed just as little. The Red Dragon Armor had called to her the moment she had walked into the armory. The man selling it to her explained some of the special abilities that the subdued red metal possessed. It would forever protect her from all forms of fire. Even a dragon's breath could no long hurt her. The armor also allowed her to move more freely, giving her a larger range of motion in her attack and defense.
She bought the armor and a few other supplies before she left off in search of whatever was beckoning her on.
The first night alone came much faster than she expected. Out of habit she nearly called to Tomi to see if he wanted first or second watch. Just as she opened her mouth she realized that Tomi was not there, nor was anyone else who would watch over her while she slept. She did not intend to sleep out in the open, defenseless against any who would wish her harm, death, or broke.
The Iron-Gathyrn Kettle came into sight not long after the sun had set. It was not the greatest thing she had ever seen, but she knew it would be more than enough for the night.
She walked in and most of the people sitting in the tavern looked over to the newcomer. Most all of them were shocked to see a woman walk in without an escort, armor notwithstanding. Silence descended over the small tavern in the inn as Donnia walked in and asked about a room.
The man behind the bar looked her up and down before responding, "A woman would be wise to not travel alone. I ain't responsible for nothing that 'appens to you while you're 'ere."
Donnia said nothing but laid out more than enough gold on the counter to pay for her room and for a little privacy on the side.
At the sound of the gold pieces hitting the bar the man quickly changed his tone, "'Ere's your key. And if there be anything that you be needin' while here, just give ol' Thanniol a call."
Donnia still said nothing, but took the key to her room and walked through the people to get to her room. The room was not large, but was filled with tables, chairs, and people. Most of them were men, but a few of them had women with them. Some of them were what she would expect to see, wearing simple dresses, modestly cut, spending time with their husbands. But some of them were working. She was not so young as to be embarrassed at seeing prostitutes, but she did not like seeing them. She had seen so many them killed by the plague because they could not afford to live without working, even during those hard times
She had just about reached the door when one of the men called out to her, "'Ey! I know you! You're that girl that stopped the plague, ain't you!" The last was more of an accusation than statement or question.
Donnia quickly thought to tell the man that he was wrong, but other people in the inn began to make noises of assent. But hearing it come from someone else, spoken in that way, almost made her feel guilty, like everything she had done was somehow wrong. Before her emotions became observable, she quickly responded, "Yes, I am that woman."
The man looked pleased at her answer. It was then that Donnia noticed he was barely standing, for he was severely drunk. "What took you so long? The city died while you were out there, not caring. My family died because you were too slow. They were only animals. What could have possibly been so hard about it?"
The man continued on, his speech slurring beyond recognition, but Donnia knew what he was saying. When he had calmed she spoke to him, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I worked to the best of my ability. Perhaps...perhaps if all of the other students had not been killed then your family might have lived; my family might have lived. Please, is there anything I can do for you? Help you?"
"I don't want your damn charity! I want my family back! For all I care, you can die, bitch." At that the man released a small dagger, throwing straight at Donnia. She did not flinch. She knew the man was drunk, but she still hoped his aim would be true.
It was.
The dagger bounced harmlessly from her armor and fell to the ground. The man stared confused at her and made a move to attack her but Donnia stopped him by saying, "I know how you feel. Truly, I do. But please, do not cause anymore pain, on your part or mine. You don't want to die and I don't want to kill you. Please, just finish your drink, and you'll never see me again."
The man seemed torn. He wanted desperately for someone to pay for the death of his loved one's. When she walked in he immediately recognized her. He had seen her before in the Hall of Justice in Neverwinter. She had returned with another ingredient for the cure while he was standing over his dying wife taking her last breaths.
While he was debating what to do, Donnia walked over to his table and laid down 100 pieces of gold. She said nothing to him, but turned and left the room.
The man sat down and wept for his wife, his son, and himself.
* * * * * * * * *
Her sword lay at on the ground well within her reach. Her armor was lain down carefully so as not to mar it's condition. The inn was quiet all around her and yet Donnia could not sleep. She lay in bed staring up into the darkness above her. She willed herself to sleep but knew it probably would not come. She almost did not want it to, she feared her dreams, her nightmares.
She had no idea how much time had passed since her confrontation with the man downstairs. Her thoughts were thick, confused, muffled. Her emotions sought to overtake her, overwhelm her, but she fought them just as fiercely as she would fight a real enemy.
She tried to think of all of the good she had done, that everything she had risked her and Tomi's life for had been worth it, but she always came back to replaying Aribeth's death over and over in her mind. Surely there had to be a different way she could have handled it. Aribeth really was not replaced by the woman who took her form, the woman she had known, trained with, trusted, and loved as a very dear friend had not betrayed her. This was all just a horrible nightmare and she would soon wake up.
Donnia pinched herself to try and wake up, but instead hissed in pain as she pinched harder and harder, before finally giving up. This was real. This was not a dream. She really had killed Aribeth.
Oh gods, Aribeth.
She could no longer stop the tears from falling. The heaving sobs wrenched through her body until she was beyond exhausted and finally allowed sleep to come.
Her eyes opened, she was sure of it, but the darkness still surrounded her on all sides. The only sound was her heart beating in her ears. She knew she was uninjured, as uninjured one can be with a wound the size of a large fist can be, but she had no idea where she was. She was supposed to be in a bed at the inn, but she knew herself to be standing.
Just as she was about to test the ground in front of her to take a step forward a bright searing light poured in from an unknown source and nearly blinded Donnia in its intensity. She reached for her weapon and found it at her side, where she expected it to be, but then remembered it should be laying on the floor next to her bed at the inn, wherever it was.
She stood battle ready, waiting for the attack, but still no sound came to her. She slowly took a step forward, and upon finding the ground firm, walked ahead, cautiously listening for any sound, as slight as it may be to alert her of the presence of an enemy, or a sign of her location.
She had barely moved 20 yards from her starting location before she heard it; a calm voice was speaking to her. She stopped and strained her ears to listen, suddenly wishing she were elvish. But the harder she strained to hear, the harder it became to hear the soft voice. She wanted to call out to it, but was unsure of its intentions so she began walking in the direction of the beckoning voice.
A small form came into sight before her as she continued to walk forward. Wait, it was not small, but sitting, meditating maybe. Donnia approached soundlessly, hoping to catch what the figure was saying, but as she neared, the figure turned to her and stood.
Donnia raised her sword slowly, but the figure, without speaking, asked her to lower her weapon. Slightly discomforted by hearing the request in the silence, Donnia slowly lowered her weapon to her side and continued to move toward the figure.
As she drew closer to it, she noticed that the figure was a tall woman, nearly matching Donnia in her great height. Long white hair seemed even brighter, if it was possible, than the light surrounding them. The woman had dark skin and looked to an elf, but different. She had never before seen an elf with purple skin. Purple skin? Donnia thought herself crazy for a moment. No one had purple skin. But she looked harder still. No, the skin was not purple, but it so dark it seemed to be that odd color.
The woman smiled as Donnia came closer to her. As she began to speak, Donnia stilled her steps. "Donnia Thensbane, tales of your great deeds have already traveled far and wide. Though they would be the first to deny it, the people you have encountered, and those whom you have not, are most grateful for your heroic accomplishments. But now your help is needed once again. Only you can help us."
Donnia looked at the woman as she spoke. The voice was very calming, soothing to her. Eventually Donnia placed her sword in its sheath and walked to the woman so that she stood directly in front of her. "Who are you talking about?"
The woman replied, "You will know us when you find us."
Donnia was becoming very confused, "But where will I find you? If you need help, just tell me how I am to help you and I will do the best I can. However, I somehow doubt that there is anyone else here so where am I to go so that I might help you?"
The woman said nothing but gave Donnia a warm smile before the light faded and Donnia was once again shrouded in absolute darkness.
As Donnia begged her vision to acclimate to the sudden darkness, another voice came to her. This voice shared no similarities with the voice she had just heard from the strange, dark-skinned woman. This voice was hard, cold. It seemed that this voice too was speaking to her, but the closer Donnia listened she realized that the voice was not speaking to her, but to someone else. She was only able to catch a few words but they did not make sense to her.
Just as Donnia was about to begin walking to this voice a great pain came to her chest, almost as though her heart were being ripped out of her chest having been cleaved open by rough spikes. Her breath hitched in her throat and Donnia screamed out in pain as it spread through the rest of her body. She knew she was dying.
Still screaming, Donnia sat straight up in bed clutching her chest. Her breath was coming fast, almost tearing from her lungs. Sweat poured from her face, streamed from her back, drenched her tunic.
Slowly she began to glance around at her surroundings. She was still in her room at the inn. Her sword was still on the floor next to the bed. Her armor was just as she left it. Her belongings sat undisturbed where she had placed them when first entering her room.
Not wanting to go back to sleep again that night, Donnia put on her armor, grabbed her pack and sword, dropping the key at the bar and headed out in the only direction she could, toward that calm voice in her dream.
Donnia was pleased with her new armor. It fit her just as well as Grot'yah's had and weighed just as little. The Red Dragon Armor had called to her the moment she had walked into the armory. The man selling it to her explained some of the special abilities that the subdued red metal possessed. It would forever protect her from all forms of fire. Even a dragon's breath could no long hurt her. The armor also allowed her to move more freely, giving her a larger range of motion in her attack and defense.
She bought the armor and a few other supplies before she left off in search of whatever was beckoning her on.
The first night alone came much faster than she expected. Out of habit she nearly called to Tomi to see if he wanted first or second watch. Just as she opened her mouth she realized that Tomi was not there, nor was anyone else who would watch over her while she slept. She did not intend to sleep out in the open, defenseless against any who would wish her harm, death, or broke.
The Iron-Gathyrn Kettle came into sight not long after the sun had set. It was not the greatest thing she had ever seen, but she knew it would be more than enough for the night.
She walked in and most of the people sitting in the tavern looked over to the newcomer. Most all of them were shocked to see a woman walk in without an escort, armor notwithstanding. Silence descended over the small tavern in the inn as Donnia walked in and asked about a room.
The man behind the bar looked her up and down before responding, "A woman would be wise to not travel alone. I ain't responsible for nothing that 'appens to you while you're 'ere."
Donnia said nothing but laid out more than enough gold on the counter to pay for her room and for a little privacy on the side.
At the sound of the gold pieces hitting the bar the man quickly changed his tone, "'Ere's your key. And if there be anything that you be needin' while here, just give ol' Thanniol a call."
Donnia still said nothing, but took the key to her room and walked through the people to get to her room. The room was not large, but was filled with tables, chairs, and people. Most of them were men, but a few of them had women with them. Some of them were what she would expect to see, wearing simple dresses, modestly cut, spending time with their husbands. But some of them were working. She was not so young as to be embarrassed at seeing prostitutes, but she did not like seeing them. She had seen so many them killed by the plague because they could not afford to live without working, even during those hard times
She had just about reached the door when one of the men called out to her, "'Ey! I know you! You're that girl that stopped the plague, ain't you!" The last was more of an accusation than statement or question.
Donnia quickly thought to tell the man that he was wrong, but other people in the inn began to make noises of assent. But hearing it come from someone else, spoken in that way, almost made her feel guilty, like everything she had done was somehow wrong. Before her emotions became observable, she quickly responded, "Yes, I am that woman."
The man looked pleased at her answer. It was then that Donnia noticed he was barely standing, for he was severely drunk. "What took you so long? The city died while you were out there, not caring. My family died because you were too slow. They were only animals. What could have possibly been so hard about it?"
The man continued on, his speech slurring beyond recognition, but Donnia knew what he was saying. When he had calmed she spoke to him, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I worked to the best of my ability. Perhaps...perhaps if all of the other students had not been killed then your family might have lived; my family might have lived. Please, is there anything I can do for you? Help you?"
"I don't want your damn charity! I want my family back! For all I care, you can die, bitch." At that the man released a small dagger, throwing straight at Donnia. She did not flinch. She knew the man was drunk, but she still hoped his aim would be true.
It was.
The dagger bounced harmlessly from her armor and fell to the ground. The man stared confused at her and made a move to attack her but Donnia stopped him by saying, "I know how you feel. Truly, I do. But please, do not cause anymore pain, on your part or mine. You don't want to die and I don't want to kill you. Please, just finish your drink, and you'll never see me again."
The man seemed torn. He wanted desperately for someone to pay for the death of his loved one's. When she walked in he immediately recognized her. He had seen her before in the Hall of Justice in Neverwinter. She had returned with another ingredient for the cure while he was standing over his dying wife taking her last breaths.
While he was debating what to do, Donnia walked over to his table and laid down 100 pieces of gold. She said nothing to him, but turned and left the room.
The man sat down and wept for his wife, his son, and himself.
* * * * * * * * *
Her sword lay at on the ground well within her reach. Her armor was lain down carefully so as not to mar it's condition. The inn was quiet all around her and yet Donnia could not sleep. She lay in bed staring up into the darkness above her. She willed herself to sleep but knew it probably would not come. She almost did not want it to, she feared her dreams, her nightmares.
She had no idea how much time had passed since her confrontation with the man downstairs. Her thoughts were thick, confused, muffled. Her emotions sought to overtake her, overwhelm her, but she fought them just as fiercely as she would fight a real enemy.
She tried to think of all of the good she had done, that everything she had risked her and Tomi's life for had been worth it, but she always came back to replaying Aribeth's death over and over in her mind. Surely there had to be a different way she could have handled it. Aribeth really was not replaced by the woman who took her form, the woman she had known, trained with, trusted, and loved as a very dear friend had not betrayed her. This was all just a horrible nightmare and she would soon wake up.
Donnia pinched herself to try and wake up, but instead hissed in pain as she pinched harder and harder, before finally giving up. This was real. This was not a dream. She really had killed Aribeth.
Oh gods, Aribeth.
She could no longer stop the tears from falling. The heaving sobs wrenched through her body until she was beyond exhausted and finally allowed sleep to come.
Her eyes opened, she was sure of it, but the darkness still surrounded her on all sides. The only sound was her heart beating in her ears. She knew she was uninjured, as uninjured one can be with a wound the size of a large fist can be, but she had no idea where she was. She was supposed to be in a bed at the inn, but she knew herself to be standing.
Just as she was about to test the ground in front of her to take a step forward a bright searing light poured in from an unknown source and nearly blinded Donnia in its intensity. She reached for her weapon and found it at her side, where she expected it to be, but then remembered it should be laying on the floor next to her bed at the inn, wherever it was.
She stood battle ready, waiting for the attack, but still no sound came to her. She slowly took a step forward, and upon finding the ground firm, walked ahead, cautiously listening for any sound, as slight as it may be to alert her of the presence of an enemy, or a sign of her location.
She had barely moved 20 yards from her starting location before she heard it; a calm voice was speaking to her. She stopped and strained her ears to listen, suddenly wishing she were elvish. But the harder she strained to hear, the harder it became to hear the soft voice. She wanted to call out to it, but was unsure of its intentions so she began walking in the direction of the beckoning voice.
A small form came into sight before her as she continued to walk forward. Wait, it was not small, but sitting, meditating maybe. Donnia approached soundlessly, hoping to catch what the figure was saying, but as she neared, the figure turned to her and stood.
Donnia raised her sword slowly, but the figure, without speaking, asked her to lower her weapon. Slightly discomforted by hearing the request in the silence, Donnia slowly lowered her weapon to her side and continued to move toward the figure.
As she drew closer to it, she noticed that the figure was a tall woman, nearly matching Donnia in her great height. Long white hair seemed even brighter, if it was possible, than the light surrounding them. The woman had dark skin and looked to an elf, but different. She had never before seen an elf with purple skin. Purple skin? Donnia thought herself crazy for a moment. No one had purple skin. But she looked harder still. No, the skin was not purple, but it so dark it seemed to be that odd color.
The woman smiled as Donnia came closer to her. As she began to speak, Donnia stilled her steps. "Donnia Thensbane, tales of your great deeds have already traveled far and wide. Though they would be the first to deny it, the people you have encountered, and those whom you have not, are most grateful for your heroic accomplishments. But now your help is needed once again. Only you can help us."
Donnia looked at the woman as she spoke. The voice was very calming, soothing to her. Eventually Donnia placed her sword in its sheath and walked to the woman so that she stood directly in front of her. "Who are you talking about?"
The woman replied, "You will know us when you find us."
Donnia was becoming very confused, "But where will I find you? If you need help, just tell me how I am to help you and I will do the best I can. However, I somehow doubt that there is anyone else here so where am I to go so that I might help you?"
The woman said nothing but gave Donnia a warm smile before the light faded and Donnia was once again shrouded in absolute darkness.
As Donnia begged her vision to acclimate to the sudden darkness, another voice came to her. This voice shared no similarities with the voice she had just heard from the strange, dark-skinned woman. This voice was hard, cold. It seemed that this voice too was speaking to her, but the closer Donnia listened she realized that the voice was not speaking to her, but to someone else. She was only able to catch a few words but they did not make sense to her.
Just as Donnia was about to begin walking to this voice a great pain came to her chest, almost as though her heart were being ripped out of her chest having been cleaved open by rough spikes. Her breath hitched in her throat and Donnia screamed out in pain as it spread through the rest of her body. She knew she was dying.
Still screaming, Donnia sat straight up in bed clutching her chest. Her breath was coming fast, almost tearing from her lungs. Sweat poured from her face, streamed from her back, drenched her tunic.
Slowly she began to glance around at her surroundings. She was still in her room at the inn. Her sword was still on the floor next to the bed. Her armor was just as she left it. Her belongings sat undisturbed where she had placed them when first entering her room.
Not wanting to go back to sleep again that night, Donnia put on her armor, grabbed her pack and sword, dropping the key at the bar and headed out in the only direction she could, toward that calm voice in her dream.