Lsanna awoke to two feelings initially…coldness from the storm outside, and a strange tingling feeling on her back. Raising her shirt, she ran her hands over the sensitive spots and puzzled over the sensation before she remembered that those small ovals were where the suction cup tentacles of the dryad had been attached to her. Moderately disturbed by the feeling, she decided that she would seek out a priest later to check her over, but as she was lowering her shirt again, she paused. Though she had gone to bed with the cloth shirt feeling relatively loose, it was tight and clinging to her chest today. Standing up, she realized the same was true of her cloth pants; they now wrapped tightly around her hips and the hem of the legs were almost halfway up her shins. Looking down, she realized that everything else seemed smaller as well. I…grew? she thought incredulously. Sure enough, comparing her height against the doorjamb, the top of her head was a good three or four inches taller. Though it wasn't unusual for a human to grow a few inches just as they were entering full adulthood, she hadn't grown for thirty-eight years! She absolutely needed to tell Azrael about this, but as she whipped around, she found…
He was gone. Not a single article of his belongings remained, unlike the past few days. His bed was made and smooth. A quick attempt at tracking revealed that he was nowhere close…he had left her sometime during the night. She sank to her knees even as her heart likewise plummeted to her feet. Why now? He had been so reluctant to accompany her at the beginning, but despite his complaints, he had never abandoned her until now…Just when she had finally found clues to the location of her friends. She considered her options…she could go by herself to Freeport, but she didn't remember the path across the plains, and she didn't know when or if she would run into a wizard. Or she could try searching for Azrael, wherever he may have gone, but he could have left for anywhere…for all she knew, he was back in the deepest reaches of Velious by now.
Though her desire to find her friends was as strong as ever, something else began tugging at her heartstrings now. She didn't want to journey alone without Azrael. Though she had known him for only four days, she felt…tied to him. Something inexplicably bound her to him, they had felt…right together, as if the fates had meant it to be. "Tunare…please let me find him," she prayed, clasping her hands in front of her chin. Determined, she stood up and began to change, hurrying into her armor, which luckily had enough give to fit her strange new height. As she gathered her belongings, she glanced out the window, to discover that it was still early morning, for the light was dim with no help from the poor weather. As she went to the door, she sighed deeply as she gazed fondly at the room. This had been home while she had recovered herself, her place in the world. But her real home lay on Faydwer, many miles to the east.
She silently peeked out into the hall, and finding nobody there, she crept as stealthily as she could to the steps so as to not wake anybody up. The innkeeper was awake, but couldn't tell her much as she returned her key other that the first key to her room was there on his desk when he awoke just an hour ago, and he had no idea where Azrael had went. As she stepped outside, the storm had been reduced to a mere drizzle, but she could still hear thunder off in the distance. She tried tracking again, but still could find no trace of the paladin. She ran to North Qeynos and repeated her search. Though she strained with her mind until her skull pounded, she did not find any hint of Azrael's presence. She dashed out the gate of the city, surprising the guards as they changed for the morning. Skipping over rats and snakes and weaving between gnoll pups, she made her way out to the Qeynos Hills, and tried tracking again to no avail. Her fears were true; he had gotten a large head start on her. Her head dropped to her chest as a rising sense of defeat filled her. The mental picture of Azrael filled her head, his sad smile, his piercing eyes, and the image of his cloaked figure walking away.
Almost as she was ready to give up, the tingling that had been plaguing her back since she woke up unexpectedly began to climb up her spine and make its way to her head. Alarmed, Lsanna braced herself for what it could mean as her skull almost rattled with the feeling. The tingling concentrated itself into her left eye, and then slowly faded to a dull tremble. Whimpering, she slowly opened both her eyes, and gasped at what she saw. Swirling on the ground were phantom footsteps that looked like they were made of golden mist. She knelt to touch one, but her fingers passed right through. Looking up again, she saw they stretched out towards Blackburrow and inside the gnoll's head entrance. Could this be a blessing from Tunare? she wondered as she followed the trail of the footsteps to the home of the gnolls.
Azrael looked out over the large frozen lake as he shivered. Winter's Deep…he had found it. Somehow, the passage there had been covered up by ages of snowfall, but he knew how to get there as if it was etched into his memory. Another mystery that he couldn't explain. As he had walked through the snow-covered valleys of Everfrost, the rain that had soaked him thoroughly had frozen to his body, and tunneling through the snow and ice to reach the hidden lake had made things worse. The parts of him that weren't aching from the cold were dangerously numb, but he didn't care. This place was perfect…nobody had come here in ages, and few knew of its existence. Shuffling through the heavy, unbroken snow, he circled the lake until he found what he was looking for: an old snow-covered cottage.
Making his way inside, he found that although cold as the grave, the house was empty, and free of snow. The stone floor was bare of almost all adornments, with the exception of a well-preserved looking bearskin rug. And there was a low-placed shelf that would prove excellent for rebuilding his 'altar'. Though his fingers were stiff and shook with the cold, he wrenched his Fiery Defender from its sheath and placed it carefully on the shelf and gazed at it as he had done so often since that day so long ago. And, faithfully, the grief began to well up anew, and he murmured the litany that still came easily to his lips, "Aelyena, I'm sorry."
Lsanna had increased her pace as she grew adjusted to following the glowing footsteps as she entered Everfrost Peaks. Though she had half expected them to disappear into, or be dampened by the snow, they still shone brightly on top of the frozen ground. She had never been into the peaks before, she realized, as she jogged through the winding passes through the mountains. This is Ursus and Mistii's home…and to think they used to run around here wearing little more than kilts! How could they stand it? she wondered, as she could feel the cold intensely through her own heavy fur cloak.
Abruptly, the winding paths opened out into a large open plain of rolling hills. This way leads to Permafrost, doesn't it? the ranger thought as she struggled to see through the ever-falling snow. Though she knew it was dangerous, she resumed her running, and headed out into the plains, taking care to avoid the snow leopards. It was as she was nearing the frozen river that she encountered another marvel, snow orcs. She almost giggled as she saw their plum-hued countenance, but she realized that this variant would certainly prove as savage as the Crushbone orcs if she wasn't careful, so she kept running, making sure not to lose sight of the trail of footsteps. After she crossed the lake, the trail suddenly ran into a wall of snow and disappeared. Lsanna froze, her brow wrinkled in concern at this new development.
Experimentally, she pushed at the mound of snow, and to her surprise, she found it was loosely piled there, as if just from new snowfall. Digging further in, she found a tunnel leading back off into darkness, sized appropriately for a human-sized man to crawl through. If Azrael indeed came this way…what could he be looking for? It is appropriate I guess, since he spent some months in Velious, which is supposedly all like this… Lsanna pondered, as she saw the footsteps turn to little slits, which she guessed was where the paladin's boots had dug in as he crawled through the tunnel. Hesitating no longer, she ducked down and crawled through the tunnel, using only the footsteps to guide her. As she inched along, she found that though she could see them, the trail gave off no real glow, the sides of the tunnel were dark as night as she went further in…this ghostly trail was in her perception only.
When she emerged, Lsanna could scarcely believe her eyes. "Winter's Deep," she breathed, looking across the vast frozen body of water. She recalled studying maps of Norrath in her childhood like everyone, and though Winter's Deep was marked clearly on the map, nobody knew how to get there. But apparently Azrael did. Gazing backwards towards the tunnel, and gauging the direction, she realized that the frozen river back in Everfrost fed the lake through the underwater current. This was an amazing discovery, but that wasn't her current concern. The snow was falling less heavily here, and through her elven sight, she could see a cottage off in the distance, with a blue light in its windows. The footsteps went off in that direction. Hurrying, she almost sprinted to the low, primitive building. The door opened creakily to her touch, and she stepped inside eagerly. She did not see Azrael immediately, until her eyes drifted to the floor. He was slumped beside the shelf, his face nearly white from the cold.
Images wheeled through Azrael's mind as he drifted through dreams. They were always different, yet he somehow was lucid enough to realize that he was dreaming. These visions went by so fast, yet he could somehow remember them when he awoke. Scenes from others' life, never his own, the people were familiar to him, yet he had never seen them before. The emotions that came along with these dreams were almost as varied, but with their swiftness, his heart and mind were set on a roller coaster, leaving him disoriented. Yet after what seemed merely seconds of these dreams, the same nightmare began, night after night. He was back inside the Peak, on that day…
All around him, screams resounded off the walls. In front of him, one of the greatest of dragons, Phara Dar…The dragon they had come to defeat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another blue dragon, Silverwing, decimating the left flanks of the guild. They had not anticipated this; the hubris of the Army of Light had been too great. A mere straggling magician had brought the second dragon to the battle, a preventable mistake had the mage sacrificed himself by standing in place, and waiting for the guild to resurrect him later after their victory. Yet he had run right to them, and had sealed their fate along with his. Azrael could see the horror unfolding exactly as it had done over the past year…Dragon fire raged, cutting swaths through the gathered adventurers, while the huge talons and fangs of the great wyrms did their work up close.
He remembered Aegisius, the leader, shouting orders to the others, but everyone was too frightened, or too angry to listen to him. It became moot when Phara Dar's claws decapitated the old paladin. Azrael had been using his power sparingly until then, yet he remembered his breath going short, and his heart pounding a mile a minute as he used the maximum of the amulet's power to try and save his companions' lives. Yet to his left, Liucian, a high elven enchanter was being scraped lifeless along the ground by Silverwing, while to his right, Ulic and Cay, the twin half elven bards who had become two of his closest friends lay crumpled on top of each other, as Ulic had vainly tried to shield his brother from Silverwing's breath, only to have them both die. Some woman was screaming at them to run, but by the time Azrael heard her cry over the roar of the battle, there were barely twenty of the guild left.
And after that last scream to escape…Azrael wished he could close his eyes to what would happen next, but he couldn't, he was powerless to stop viewing this dream as he had been to stop the following events in the past. As he leapt up with his sword charged with the amulet's power to try and strike a critical blow at Phara Dar's flank, the ancient dragon whipped his tail around and swatted the paladin like an irritating fly. He could not feel the pain of his ribs breaking as he hit the wall, but he could somehow remember the crushing pressure it had on his lungs. But he still got up, just in time to see the greatest failure of his life.
Phara Dar had righted himself, and was plunging a talon straight for his heart, to impale him like he had done to so many others. Through the blood that was trickling into his eyes, as he struggled to his feet, he saw the torchlight dim as the shadowy frame of someone moved in front of him. As he straightened, he knew who it was immediately. This golden-haired woman, who wore armor much like his own, the person he loved more than life itself, had thrust herself in front of him to try and avert the coming blow. He wanted to scream, to cry, to yell at her to get out of the way, to save herself, yet Aelyena refused to move. Her flaming sword was moving into position, yet it was too slow, and the claws of the dragon were approaching impossibly fast. It was as if time had slowed down, and despite the agonizing effort, his limbs would not heed him. He once again saw the spray of blood, the screech of metal, and that gasping cry…that one sound that tortured him the most, escaped Aelyena's lips as she died. As she began to fall, he saw the horn coming, yet once more, he could not stop the dragon from plunging it through her chest and beyond, raking him deeply to finally plunge deep into his frame.
They fell then, and the last thing Azrael could remember was disbelief, unable to come to terms with Aelyena's death so much as his own impending mortality. Then, there was only blackness. The same deep sadness that continued to tear him apart pierced through the dream, leaving him aching in the dark of this nightmare. But then, unlike the many cold nights before, he could feel someone's arms closing about him from behind. The pain and sadness faded, to be replaced by warmth, as he could feel the slight frame of a woman embracing him, holding him tightly to her chest. "Aelyena?" he whispered, trying to look backwards, yet he could not see her face. But that ceased to matter as a sense of peace came over him, and the darkness began to brighten, until he was bathed in a cloud of pure white.
Weakly, Azrael opened his eyes, finding them watery with tears. Blinking furiously, he tried to clear them away, only to find he lacked the strength. He could hear a female voice shushing him, then a feminine hand came close to his face bearing a handkerchief, and dried his eyes. "Aelyena?" he repeated softly, though he knew it impossible. To his surprise, as his vision focused, Lsanna's face came into view, smiling with relief. "Thank Tunare…" she murmured with warmth in her voice, "I didn't think you were ever going to wake up." As the paladin gained his bearings, he saw that he was still in the cottage, but his armor had been removed and piled loosely in a corner, and they were both lying on the bearskin rug, wrapped in both their cloaks, like blankets. She had pulled him up into a half-sitting position, and had leaned him against herself as she braced her back on the stone wall. It was her body heat that he had felt, even through the dream.
"How…?" he gasped, "How did you find me? Can't I ever leave anyone behind?" Lsanna seemed hurt, but he was surprised as she laid a warm hand on his still-cold cheek. She shook her head with a sad smile on her face, "You're lucky that I did find you, praise Tunare. You were nearly frozen to death…honestly, did you even stop to think of what would happen if you trod soaking wet into a blizzard?" He coughed and attempted to smirk as he replied, "It…never stopped me before." She shushed him again, telling him, "Quiet, save your strength…you were sick to begin with, you could have died." "I should have…a long time ago," he began, but she placed a finger to his lips and held him tighter to her. He was going to protest, but every thought that came into his head left him before he could put what he wanted to say into words. Laying like this, as the wood elven woman held him, reminded him so much of the way Aelyena had held him in the past. Drowsiness overtook him, and he fell asleep again, this time to a silent, dreamless sleep.
Azrael awoke finally to the sound of howling wind outside. This time, he was lying by himself on the bearskin rug, still wrapped in the cloaks. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't raise himself more than onto his elbow. Lsanna was standing by the window, gazing out into a snowstorm. Noticing him looking at her, she turned back and gave a small smile, remarking, "Well, it looks like we're snowed in for a while. But…in a way, that's good, as you're not fully recovered yet." Though weak, and his joints ached, Azrael realized that he could breath clearly, so long as he didn't inhale too deeply, as he found out when a coughing fit wracked his frame as he tried to draw a full breath. Alarmed, Lsanna kneeled down next to him, and held him until the coughing subsided. Looking at her through half-lidded eyes, Azrael gasped, "Why…are you doing this?"
Rubbing his back, Lsanna responded, "I've had some practice doing this for my own sister, but I wanted to help…not just because you saved me, but…because I consider you a friend. Azrael's eyes darkened, and his head lowered. He said in a tortured voice, "Friend? Most of my friends are dead. And those who live…? They surely believe me dead as well. Almost everyone I've met since I came here…has met with disaster." Forcing himself up to stare intensely into Lsanna's shocked face, he continued as forcefully as he could, "They died, and I couldn't save them! I have this 'great power', yet even that could not keep them from death!" He lowered his head again, and groaned in a stricken tone, "It couldn't even save Aelyena."
"Who…is Aelyena?" Lsanna asked, repeating her question from before. "She is…was…my wife," Azrael replied without hesitation. Dumbstruck, the ranger could only sit in silence with a hand up halfway to her lips in surprise. Bitterly, Azrael continued, "What you heard is true…with some differences. Yes, I was a member of the Army of Light who died almost to a man at Veeshan's Peak almost a year ago. As far as I know, I'm the only survivor." He buried his face in his hands as he sat up fully, continuing, "Aelyena, she…She sacrificed herself to save me, for though she died, I awoke three days later to find myself in a sea of corpses. And among the bodies of my friends and comrades, I found my wife, irretrievably lost along with the rest of them. I could not save any of them…not one. It had been too long…too long without a resurrection. Had I awoken a day earlier, I could've done something, but…I tried and tried…and no matter how many times I cast the spell, Aelyena wouldn't wake up, none of them would."
Azrael lowered his hands, and Lsanna could see that his face was stained anew with tears. He went on, "I buried them myself, after hours of dragging them out of the Peak. First…I had…dealt with Phara Dar, achieved my revenge…but it felt hollow to me." The paladin lifted his eyes to gaze at the sword of blue flames still lying on the shelf across from him. "That sword…was hers," he remarked, and Lsanna did not need to guess to know whom he meant. "I had placed the snuffed hilt on the cairn where I had buried her, but as I did, I could hear her voice in my mind, but I couldn't make out the words…When I touched the sword again, it came alight, glowing as blue as my wife's eyes…Some shard of her is still in there, I believe," he explained, and Lsanna found that the look in his eyes that he had given the sword many times earlier in her presence was that of devotion of a husband to his wife. But his eyes grew sad again, and he told the wood elf, "I thought she was giving this sword to me for means of revenge…to exact my vengeance on the race of creatures that had taken our way of life from us, and had taken her from me. Yet no matter how many dragons I slew in Velious, whose existence I learned of shortly after, nothing could end the grief I felt."
"What…caused you to come back then?" Lsanna asked quietly, crying herself at this point. Sullenly, Azrael responded, "I had been fighting alone, yet one day, a guild came along and asked me for my help in a raid of their own. They were smaller in number than most, but determined. They reminded me so much of the Army of Light that I joined them, a move I now regret. The Ravensmiths…They died too, though that hasn't been as widely circulated as my former guild's demise." "How?" Lsanna whispered. Azrael began to tell her, but sagged back down onto the rug. "It's…complicated. This is why I don't want to involve anyone in my troubles any more. I was sent here for a purpose…Though I cannot remember what that is. In trying to accomplish this, my friends have died, one after the other," he replied, then turned his head to look directly at her.
"This is why I left you…because I don't want you to get hurt. You've found your clue…you don't need me any more. Had you left, you could've gone on, maybe found your friends, and my misery could've ended here…" Azrael told her, but before he could continue, Lsanna interrupted him, crying, "But I don't want to leave! I need you more than ever!" Taken aback by her forcefulness, Azrael fell silent as he gazed in surprise at her tear-lined face. "You say you came here for a purpose, and that your friends died because of that…I don't believe that! Your friends died so you could live on, and fulfill that goal," she choked, clenching a fist at her side. She knelt down next to him and turned his face so his hazel eyes were aligned with her green ones. "Your…wife, Aelyena, she gave her life so that you could do what you were placed here to do. Are you really going to accomplish this by killing dragons and hiding yourself away in the snow?" she demanded, her tears falling into his beard.
She was right…he realized, he had been living for vengeance only, abandoning his post, hiding away from what he had been sent here to do. "You're…you're right…what have I been doing? I've been charging off in the wrong direction…and I don't know what my purpose was even supposed to be anymore…" he groaned, closing his eyes from the sense of guilt that hit him. Yet amazingly, Lsanna once again embraced him, holding onto him as she rocked him gently in her arms, saying to him, "You can still change things, you know…Even if you can't remember what you were supposed to do, if you come along with me, maybe you'll find out…Even if you can't, I'll help look for you. After all, isn't that what friends are for?" Azrael didn't answer, but he relaxed in her arms, and they lay there together as night fell once again outside, as the snow came falling silently down outside.
For once, the nightmare of the massacre at Veeshan's Peak didn't plague Azrael's dreams. But this did not mean his dreams were peaceful. The strange flashes of the lives of other men were becoming more concentrated, at the center of them was a bearded man, a paladin like himself, slightly younger than his father, with blue hazel eyes. This man . . . who was he, and why did he seem so familiar? Twice he came face to face with him, and the man's mouth moved, but Azrael couldn't hear any words. Yet somehow it was clear that this older man was speaking to him, and what he had to say was of dire importance, yet some barrier remained between them. This time, after the visions were done, instead of the flashback to the Peak, the dreams faded to blackness, but the silent images were replaced by whispers of voices that he realized with a shock, were from his own life.
Keeper of the Third Power . . .
. . . we're uninvolved in your duty . . .
. . . could draw a Fallen here . . .
. . . a request of you and your eventual Companions . . .
These snippets of past conversation intrigued him, but they began to fade away as he tried to gain cognizance of them, dissolving into incomprehensible hisses. Straining harder, he woke himself up, his eyes snapping open to find that it was dawn. Rosy light peeked through the shuttered windows, and he could hear the crackle and popping of a fire. Sitting up with a grunt, he spied Lsanna tending a small fire in the fireplace, prodding it occasionally with a longer stick to keep the logs burning. He noticed her left ear twitch as she heard him rise, and she turned around and almost chirped, "Morning!" She's in a good mood today . . . Azrael thought to himself, taking a deep breath. And for once, he could, without any problems.
As he watched her work, a question that had been bugging him for a while surfaced in his mind. "Just how did you find me here? As far as I know, only I knew of how to get to Winters Deep," he asked out of the blue, startling the ranger. Shaking off her surprise, she replied with a shrug, "I don't know how I did it, will of Tunare maybe . . . but I followed your trail by a path of glowing footsteps." THAT caught Azrael's attention. "Glowing footsteps?" he prompted, his interest piqued. "Yes," she replied matter-of-factly, "As if I could see every place you had stepped. They started to appear in the Qeynos Hills, and I followed them right to you." But then her brow furrowed as she remembered what prompted the steps to appear. "The thing is . . . this started happening when I felt some odd tingling on my back . . . you know, where the dryad had attached himself to me? Also, its been continuing these past few days, though its getting better. The steps haven't appeared again, but I've still been getting taller," she explained.
Taller? Azrael wondered, and got to his knees, than slowly stood up. Lsanna stood up as well, putting out a hand to his shoulder to steady him. As she did so, Azrael realized that what she was saying was true, she had grown a half a foot! She had been five foot two when they had set out from Surefall, but now she was as tall as a human woman at five foot eight inches. Though he was still taller than her at six feet, this was quite a change. "Maybe the dryad acted as fertilizer? You are a wood elf, aren't you?" he joked with a smirk, and though she elbowed him for poking fun, she laughed too. Quieting down, she remarked, "It is serious though . . . these things are happening to me, and I don't know why . . . " This time, it was Azrael who reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder as he told her, "Don't worry, we'll keep a watch on it, and if it turns serious, I'm sure there are those who would know what to do."
She relaxed at that, and they both sat down before the fire. As they gazed into the flames, Lsanna thought of something, and turned to look at Azrael. "Ok, since you asked a question, I get to ask one, ok?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. "Shoot," Azrael replied nodding, but corrected himself upon seeing her confused expression, "Err, go ahead." Taking a lock of her chestnut brown hair in her hand in a gesture that reminded him of someone, she asked, "You said you had a purpose to be here...what is that? And, what do you mean by being here? Is it like some kind of destiny thing like the Mithaniel Marr priests are always talking about in Felwithe?"
Azrael shook his head and replied, "Not just a purpose, a duty. I . . . dreamed about it last night I think. All I can remember are bits and pieces though." Leaning down onto her elbows to gaze up at him with her large green eyes, she tilted her head and encouraged him, saying, "Well, what do you remember?" Putting a hand to his chin to scratch at his beard, Azrael responded, "I remember something about something or a group of somethings called the Fallen . . . " Lsanna shivered, and remarked, "That sounds ominous, doesn't it?" Azrael continued, "Then there was something about the Third Power, and I have a strong idea as to what that is . . . " He reached out a hand and pulled over his breastplate and gently flicked open the still broken hatch on the abdomen.
Though it had become a familiar thing in the nearly four years he had possessed it, Lsanna was entranced by the sight of the Amulet. In the firelight, she could see the six gold and silver triangles glimmering around the central white crystal pyramid, all set inside the circle of green crystal. Unbidden, her hand stretched out to touch it, and as her flesh touched mythical metal, there was a sudden bright flash, and she jumped back with a yelp. Azrael nearly dropped the armor piece in surprise, but he blinked to clear his eyes and was even more shocked by what he saw dangling from Lsanna's fingers. In her hand was a gold and silver necklace that replicated on a smaller scale the triangle in the center of the Amulet. It was composed of the three large gold outer triangles and the three silver inner ones, yet there was no pyramid in the center, only empty space.
Her eyes wide in bewilderment, Lsanna gasped, "Has this happened before?" Azrael frowned as he pondered the significance of this phenomenon. "No . . . " he replied, "But it is obviously something important. The Amulet somehow . . . recognized you. That necklace is surely a sign of that." The wood elven woman appeared still uncertain, gazing down at the talisman in her hand. "Why don't you put it on?" Azrael suggested. Nervous, Lsanna undid the clasp and looped the necklace about her neck and fastened it. She wasn't aware of any immediate change, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Yet Azrael could tell that something had happened the instant she had put it on. He could feel her . . . her presence in relation to his. This was the something that he had thought of. Was she the first of these . . . Companions? If so, he could finally explain why he had felt bound to her even before she wore the necklace.
As he gazed past her to the fire, he suddenly realized something. "Lsanna . . . how did you build that fire?" he asked with growing suspicion. Not recognizing the tone in his voice, she replied immediately, "Oh, I found some logs piled up in a closet towards the back of the cottage, and I used a bit of magic to get it started." Azrael clapped a hand to his forehead as his thoughts were confirmed. "Lsanna . . . " he grumbled, "If you can use fire magic, we can't be 'snowed in', as you could melt the damned snow anytime you wanted." Realizing her blunder, she stuck her tongue out partially in mock embarrassment, replying sheepishly, "Oops, guess you caught me. I was waiting until you felt better, and I didn't want you running off while still feeling sick." "Now that you're better . . . " she left it hanging in the air. To her surprise, he laughed, and remarked, "Why don't we get going then? It's a long walk to Freeport."
Minutes later, both were armored up and walking through Everfrost Peaks again. Feeling much better now that he was able to move around, Azrael found himself asking about her family and friends. Lsanna was more than happy to describe her life to him, and as they passed through Blackburrow and into the Qeynos Hills, he became familiar with her parents, her friends and her mischievous sister. As they strode towards the valley leading towards the Eastern Karana plains, Azrael found himself examining some of the names she had told him in his head. Mistii . . . Ursus . . . Hillodania . . . The two former had just the barest significance for him, but Hillodania . . . where had he heard that name before? He almost growled with frustration, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He knew he had known Lsanna's sister, but where, and when?
They continued walking briskly out onto the plains until they came to the first menhir pointing out directions. Azrael described in full detail the path they would take, remembering the way perfectly, an oddity that frustrated him, as he could remember little else about the past. After going along the paths of Eastern Karana, they would rest at an inn in North Karana, then continue through the Western plains, stop in Highpass Hold, go through Kithicor Forest in the daytime, and keep on walking across the Commonlands until either they reached Freeport, or they would stop at an inn if they were tired.
He was so absorbed in describing the route that he didn't notice a farmer running towards them down the path, his eyes full of fear and alarm. As soon as he was in earshot, he began yelling, "Help! My lord paladin, help!" Snapping out of it, he turned to the farmer, noticing that the in places the middle-aged man's were torn, burned, frozen, and the man's hair was standing on end, as if he had been shocked by electricity. Grasping the man's shoulders, Azrael demanded, "Calm yourself, man! What is happening?" The terrified man turned and pointed to a cloud of smoke off on the horizon. "The farms, they're being attacked by a giant three-headed beast!!! My entire family is going to be killed if someone doesn't help us! Please, you are the only experienced adventurer I could find . . . it has already killed the men from the Temple of Life who tried to stop it!" he cried, wringing his hands desperately, almost crying with fear and exhaustion. The word flashed through Azrael's mind before the man had even finished speaking, and before he knew it, he was sprinting full out towards the cloud . . . Chimera.
Even as Azrael turned to his heels, Lsanna ran right along with him. She cried out to him to stop and explain what was going on as she ran over what the farmer had said in her mind. A three-headed monster? She had heard of no creature on Norrath who fit that description, yet the man was scared for his life, why would he lie about something that was destroying his home and family?
Yet as they ran, she realized a change had come over Azrael. Straining, she pulled up alongside him, and saw in his eyes a new kind of determination, he was going to fight this horror, by himself if need be. Her heart pounded as she dashed after him, as a sense of danger entered her mind. What was this creature that the farmer was so afraid of? If it could slay several guards without trouble, why wasn't Azrael going for help? From the way he ran, she could tell that he was heading directly for the beast. Was he trying to get himself killed?
Putting in a burst of speed to get ahead of his longer stride, she ran in front of him and spread her arms, yelling, "Stop! What is going on?" Her chest heaved with exertion, but she stood straight, and he skidded to a halt. She was tired of being out of the loop, she had finally gotten him to open up to her, to tell her of his life, but she wasn't going to let him get killed because of this new secret. Anxious, Azrael stepped closer to the ranger, but his eyes were focused on the cloud of smoke that had been growing larger as he had approached, until the elven woman had stopped him.
"Lsanna, I must do this," the paladin told the frightened wood elf, but she shook her head and demanded, "I won't let you pass until you tell me why you want to fight this thing! You didn't even ask him to describe it further . . . you just ran off as if you knew what he was talking about!" Her voice choking, she continued, "Aren't you going to ask someone for help? If it killed those men, why would you be able to stand up against it?" She had lowered her head out of tiredness, but when Azrael began to try to move past her, she raised her head and forced him to make eye contact. Trembling, she gripped his arm, and said in a soft voice, "My father once knew a man who was in his fiftieth season, and he tried to kill a fire giant to had killed a party of adventurers twenty seasons below him. He died, Azrael. He thought that he would be strong enough, but he overestimated the giant. Please tell me you aren't making the same mistake."
Azrael put his hand softly on her shoulder, but his eyes were firm. Taking his other hand, he put it under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. "Lsanna," he explained in a fervent tone she had never heard him use before, "You spoke to me of my Purpose . . . the purpose that I fought for, that my friends, my wife died for. I don't know why, but I do know now what I must do." Lsanna was shocked at the assurance he had in his voice, and she fell silent. "The creature that the farmer spoke of is called a Chimera . . . I realize now what that phrase in my dream meant when it referred to the Fallen . . . This Chimera is one of them," he told her.
As Azrael looked into her terrified eyes, he realized that she wasn't scared of the Chimera, she was scared for him! An unexpected feeling of warmth entered his heart as he realized it had been so long since anyone had cared about him in this way. Tentatively, he pulled her to him, and wrapped his armored arms about her. Lsanna was surprised as he embraced her, but she calmed somewhat as she heard what he told her next. "I was sent here to protect this world, to protect the people in it. To protect my friends, to protect the ones I love," he whispered to her as he held her tight. Pulling slightly away, he looked down at her with suddenly sad eyes as he went on, "I have failed twice in my duty . . . But I will not fail again. No more should die because I could not save them . . . I could not save my wife, but I will save these people, even if it means fighting alone. If I should die, at least nobody else shall die with me."
A faint smile crossed his lips as he muttered, "I'm not exactly defenseless . . . " Glancing down at his blue and gold armor, he tore off the hatch on his abdomen completely, and placed it inside one of his packs as the Amulet was completely revealed. The Third Power . . . only this can destroy these creatures, he thought to himself as he began running again. The dreams had meant something after all, he pondered as he hit his stride, dashing past fields and fences as he drew nearer the cloud of black smoke. He had seen visions of nightmarish creatures, the Fallen, and the Chimera was among them. Still, he realized that while there had been legends and fairy tales of Chimeras in his childhood, Norrath hadn't known them for a long time. Why now would this one appear?
Azrael shook his head as he thought, It doesn't matter why it's here, all I know is that I was told that I was chosen to fight it and its brethren. He grew frustrated again, for he could still not remember who it had been that had chosen him. All he could remember of his coming to this world was the sound of trees, of men seemingly made out of wood telling him things . . . Important things, yet since he had woken up to find his wife dead and his friends slaughtered by Phara Dar, he could not recall them. Yet he still knew how to use the Amulet, and that only its power could truly kill these things.
You have faced and defeated one of them already . . .
He recalled the mysterious voice that had told him that in his nightmares . . . Did it mean that he had already defeated a Fallen? If that was true, why couldn't he remember it? As the farms came into view, he realized that there was no time to think about it now. He had slain a Fallen before, he could do it again. But as he glimpsed what was prowling about between the charred, frozen, and shattered buildings, he was no longer so sure.
The Chimera stood as tall as a man at the shoulder, yet hunched over as it was, it was nearly as large as an elephant in bulk. The top half of its torso was dark gold furred, and had clawed paws like a lion that had been dipped in oil. Leathery wings like those of a bat or a dragon's were pulled in tight along its back, held at rest while on the ground. The lower half ended in legs like a goat's, and instead of a tail, half a snake's body sprouted from its haunches, and whipped around hissing, as if it had a life of its own. But it was upwards from its shoulders that gave the paladin the most pause. Three heads mounted its broad chest, and they only faintly resembled the animals that they could have been had they belonged to normal animals. The head on its right shoulder looked like a goat, though with fangs, and a frost-like mist billowed from down its gullet. On its left, an eagle-like raptor's head sprouted, and astonishingly, lightning crackled forth from its beak. The center head was the largest, looking nothing else but like that of a great black lion's head, maned and terrible. Fire gushed forth like a dragon's from its maw.
But what drew Azrael's attention was the odd marking upon the center head's forehead. A pentagon, made of seven triangles, arranged in a symbolic structure, with the centermost triangle an onyx pyramid. The similarity to his amulet chilled him. Yet this symbol was corrupted somehow, driving the creature it had been attached to mad, making an already dangerous creature even more vicious.
The Chimera held the corpse of a farmer fast under its right paw, frozen to the ground. Azrael could not tell if the human man had survived the flash-freezing process, but he doubted it. He could hear men and women screaming from the buildings furthest away from the Fallen, there were yet survivors, but they wouldn't survive if he fought the creature here. Even if it missed him, there was a chance it would hit the remaining farmhouses. He had to draw it away from there, but how? In the past times that he had used the amulet's power, he could only charge his sword with it, or release it in a burst around himself. If only he could throw the emerald lightning somehow . . .
He gathered his power, and instead of channeling it down his right arm and into his sword as usual, he instead tried to focus it into his left hand. Amazingly, the power obeyed him, and a ball of crackling electricity swelled into being in his palm. Concentrating, he took careful aim, and punched his hand forwards, trying to force the energy outwards. As he hoped, a thin bolt of lightning burst forth from the ball and raked the Chimera's side. The Fallen released a terrible roar from all four of its mouths, the tail shrieking along with the three heads. And all four turned to spot the paladin crouching off on the road.
Ok, now what?! Azrael thought worriedly as the beast lumbered towards him. Remembering his plan to draw the Chimera away from the farmers, he turned and ran out into the open plains. Despite its size, the Chimera could not keep up with him. As the distance between them grew, the Chimera suddenly halted, bellowing its frustration. The wings on its back extended, and with great heaving flaps, it leapt into the air. Azrael turned to look behind him when he thought he had reached a suitable distance, only to see that he was no longer followed. Worried that it may have turned back to the farmers after giving up the pursuit, he began to turn back. Yet as he took a step forwards, he felt a sudden sense of alarm, and his eyes swept up skyward. With the barest of margins, he leapt aside as the Chimera dove down out of the sky and hit the ground with a boom, clawing the ground where he had stood.
Nearly a mile away, Lsanna was still standing in the same spot, reveling in the sensation she had felt when Azrael had held her just minutes earlier. Aside from her father, it was the first time she had been hugged in that manner by a man. Though she had made many friends who were men, none of the embraces they had given her had this kind of . . . intimacy. Was this how he had held his wife? Just the warmth of him had been stunning. Yet something had bothered her, and continued to work at her mind.
As she carefully went over the recent memory, she realized what it was. Though his chest had been warm, she had heard no heartbeat as her head rested against him. Her own heart skipped a beat as this revelation hit her. Before she could ponder its implications, she remembered something else. Long ago, before her sister parted ways with her, Hillodania had hugged her in the exact same solemn way. She had been saying goodbye, never expecting to see her elder sister again . . . Without a second thought, she began tracking Azrael, her heart filled with panic, cursing her inattentiveness. Upon sensing his direction, she ran off as fast as her legs could carry her.
As the tree crystallized next to him, Azrael realized that he had chosen no easy foe. The Chimera had no trouble with long-range attacks, and had launched ice, fire, electricity, and even the snake-tail had spat poison at him. The bolts of power he shot back seemed pathetically weak in comparison, and though he could see several burns where he had struck the creature, he wasn't causing much serious damage, though the beast's left hind leg was limping. He had to get in closer, but how? He had charged the Chimera once before, only to have it leap over him as he tried to land a charged slash at one of its heads. His lapse in trying to think of a new strategy had earned him a burned arm as the Fallen spat fire at him.
He glared at the monster, hazel eyes meeting glowing crimson. The sigil mocked him, and he could now see that the black pyramid flickered with a pale plum light. Something told him that this was the key . . . destroy this emblem, and the Chimera would fall. Yet when he launched another bolt at the lion head, it merely extended a wing in front of the sigil, blocking it from the attack at the cost of a seared hole in the leathery flesh. Furious, Azrael realized he'd have to try something different if he were to succeed. Running in a strafing matter, he ran around the side of the Chimera, gladly noting that it had trouble turning to follow him. Getting around towards the back, he charged his Fiery Defender with the Third Power, and leapt towards the center head.
Yet as he rose up along the bony spine of the Fallen, he realized he had made a terrible error as the snake-headed tail whipped up to face him. It spewed poison at him, soaking his chest with the spray. Though he closed his eyes to avoid being blinded, the venom burned through his skin, causing agony. Diverting his strike from the center head, he instead landed upon the Chimera's back and turned his sword on the tail in a fury. To his surprise, the blast from the charged strike cleaved the serpent-like tail clean off, sending it writhing to the ground. Yet the Fallen did not take the loss of that limb lightly, as the wings snapped up, the claws on the end raking Azrael's back, digging through the metal.
Flinging him off, the Fallen flapped its wings, and took once again to the sky. Azrael could feel his lungs tightening as he searched the cloudy sky for his enemy. It was too soon, he cursed, he couldn't be suffering from the use of the power already, should his lungs fail, he would not have a miraculous survival this time. His heart was as calm in his chest as it had ever been since the incident, which bothered him. It seemed to him at sometimes that it no longer beated at all, but that was preposterous, he was living and breathing, how could he not have a beating heart? But his concern quickly turned from his health as a bolt of flame surged down from the sky. Azrael leapt to the side, readying his sword again. A lightning bolt darted from the sky, and this time, the paladin could not dodge it. Yet the electricity caused no damage . . . in fact, he felt stronger from the current.
Yet inside the clouds, the Fallen seemed to realize its mistake. The heavy body lurched out from the clouds and swooped downwards on this troublesome prey. Azrael saw it coming, and fired more lightning at it, yet the Chimera was more agile in the air than it was on the ground. It dodged his attacks easily, and was bearing down on him quickly. Realizing the Chimera's goal, Azrael looked for a place to hide behind, but he was out on the open plains, the farm ruins that he could've hid behind were hundreds of feet away. Hoping that the farmsteads had been evacuated, he ran that way, but the winged monstrosity behind him was getting ever closer. He had just spotted the roofs of the farms ahead when a blast of cold hit him from the back, sending him sprawling. He had dodged the blasts as he ran, but as fatigue wore him down, they had grown closer.
Landing with a great thump, the Fallen lumbered over as quickly as it could manage, and sank its claws into his legs. Screaming, Azrael swiped at its left head with his sword, but it reared the vulnerable member away and instead plunged the goat's head in and bit his left arm, sinking the teeth in deep through the enchanted metal, and into the flesh beyond. Azrael bellowed from the pain and struck again, this time at one of the forelimbs that was gashing his side. He hit the creature, and it leapt back in shock and pain. Growling, it prepared to strike him from afar, but suddenly, an arrow hit the Chimera in the side.
Both monster and man turned to see Lsanna standing upon a hill, bow drawn with another arrow nocked. The wood elven ranger was terrified, but resolute. She released the second arrow as she shouted at the Fallen, "Up here!" As Azrael healed some of his wounds with the brief respite granted him, he cried out to her, "Run away you fool! I can't lose you like the rest!" Yet she didn't run, firing another arrow that embedded itself in the eagle head's neck. The Chimera began to flap its wings, and Azrael knew that it would swoop over and kill her swiftly if he didn't do something. Groaning with exertion, he gathered up as much power as he could, and instead of shooting a bolt from the ball of energy, he threw it with all his might. Instead of dissolving, it hit like a bomb, tearing a large hole open in the Chimera's side.
The Fallen's attention was back on the paladin, but he soon regretted his desperate ploy as it landed and leapt back on top of him, the center head sinking its teeth into his neck. As the Chimera's claws plunged into his chest, Azrael realized that he had bought Lsanna's life at the cost of his own, unless he acted quickly. Drawing on strength he didn't know he had, he drew as much power into the core of his body as he could muster, reaching what he had thought were his limits, then surpassing them. He could not pause in the sensation of that much of the Third Power coursing through himself, as the Chimera too began to gather its breath for one final blast of flame. DIE!!! Azrael screamed mentally as he released the held power all at once. Unlike the normal dark green color of the power, the blast released by his Herculean effort glowed a light mint green.
The surging electricity slammed into the Chimera, throwing it into the air. As it plunged upwards, a crack appeared in the obsidian pyramid on the lion's head. It had overestimated the paladin, and instead of circling back to try and finish Azrael off, it mustered its wings and righted itself in the air, and fled off into the dark clouds, vowing revenge in what consciousness it had. Back on the ground, Azrael's head swum from loss of blood and the huge expenditure of the power he had spent. Flipping himself over, he tried to crawl towards the farms, but found he hadn't the strength. Spots floated in front of his eyes as he strained to move, and all he could hear was a dull buzz, he could not perceive Lsanna's shouts as she tried to call for help. His head slumped to the ground, and his vision faded to black as the rain started again, washing the blood that flowed from his battered body away.
End Chapter 1. To be continued in Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revelation.