Parting Mists

When a person enters the Underdark, they will find an alien place. It is completely surreal and significantly more dangerous than anything they have ever encountered before. This deadly place, full of spoken half truths, lies and deceits is, like most things truly fatal, hauntingly enchanting.

Phosphorescent lichens provide an eerie, yet breathtaking glowing light that serves to guide those who do not yet know the paths. It trails up columns, grows on boulders and climbs up the smooth cavern walls. Subterranean lakes hold an abundant array of yet-unnamed aquatic life. Streams run through the cracks in the caves and provide an never ending supply of minerals for the building of ominous stalactites and stalagmites. In some places, water is turned into steam and a murky fog clutches onto everything it touches and hides it from view.

When the mist finally recedes, nothing is as it was before.

"I guess we better stop for a rest." Liam motioned to a clearing among the stalagmites. He kicked some pebbles away in a lax attempt to clear the prospective area.

No one questioned or disagreed.

Already the small group was worn down. They had been attacked by countless elementals, a party of Drow priestesses and warriors, and several illithids. The restoration spells that Anomen used had drained his energy to the point where the young cleric was falling asleep standing up. And, although she wouldn't admit it, Jaheira wasn't any better.

Liam helped set up the healers' bedrolls, while Jaheira managed to create a small fire. It was Keldorn who attended to Imoen. It had been an unspoken yet unanimous decision that no one was to discuss the mage's relationship with Liam, nor was anyone to question her on what happened to her at Irenicus' hands.

Irenicus...

If he could have seen himself, Liam would have seen his eyes turn the hard obsidian of the Slayer's. As it was, he felt the boiling, invigorating hate seep out from under his many, hastily built defences.

"Easy there, lad." Keldorn's voice was soft as he laid a restraining hand on Liam's shoulder.

"Torm... I... She must hate me."

Keldorn glanced to where Imoen sat and Liam followed the older paladin's eyes. Her face was impassive as she studied her spell book, but as she looked up and met Liam's eyes, an acute, and all too readable pain washed over her features.

"No," the elder paladin's voice was barely audible, "I doubt she could hate you."

"No, not at all. After all, I am her brother!" The word was an oily film in his throat. "Why didn't Torm tell me, Keldorn?" It was not a venomous question, merely the query of one who is losing faith.

"I do not know." Keldorn's saddened grey eyes returned to the figure of Imoen once more. "That is something that I cannot answer."

Liam nodded. Not for the first time since Spellhold, a feeling that Torm had somehow betrayed him ate at his soul. Oh wait, that's right. I have no soul. Never mind then.

Keldorn seemed to sense what he was thinking. "The way of the gods is not always known to mortals, Liam." He turned his head to seemingly take in the pitch black surroundings. "There is a reason why he did not tell you."

It was cold comfort.

"Come, Liam. We all could do with some sleep."

Imoen avoided his eyes as Liam slipped into his bedroll. Conveniently, the person who set it had also arranged it so that he would be next to her. The rogue paladin scowled at the now sleeping form of Jaheira. He could swear that a satisfied smile played at the ends of her mouth.

Bloody meddling Harpers.

It was the sound of Imoen shuffling her blankets that startled Liam awake. Without thinking, Liam pulled out a blanket from his roll and handed it to Imoen. He watched through half open eyes as the mage stuffed it into her own makeshift bed. The embers of the dying fire surrounded her in a luminous soft glow. For a few, precious moments, there was no anguish, no Bhaal, no Irenicus.

Liam moved closer to her and lay his arm across her enclosed chest.

She pulled away from him. "Goodnight, Lee."