The gentle rocking in the gait of her mount always seemed to lighten her mood. It always brought back the comforting memories of her previous exploits. Durwen thought back to when things had seemed simpler.
About ten years ago, the most Durwen had to deal with was her nagging affection for a certain half-blooded paladin. Respin had been her confidant and only friend. In the two years they had traveled together both of them learned a lot from each other. Respin helped her come to understand the curious life of a half elf.
Respin had explained the hatred he had felt for his primitive human heritage. As a priestess, Durwen had talked with him for hours on end about his pain. The first time, they were sitting around the campfire after a long day of work. The day had been spent helping a town rid themselves of orcs. They were taking their usual third watch to keep an eye on everyone. It always seemed to be the best time to get to know each other. He told her the story of his unwanted conception. Respin's father had been a human bandit who had been plaguing a local town.
"My mother was traveling on her own trying to get back to her family when he came at her from behind. She doesn't talk about it. All I know is what my extended family will tell me. She hadn't returned home in time for the summer festival and they went out looking for her. They say they found her in a mess on the side of the road crying. They pulled her together enough to get her home. When she began to show…" his eyes glazed over as he stared into the campfire "they told her to end the pregnancy."
Durwen knew now that his confession had been more out of need to lift some burden than to get to know her. Then Durwen had thought it was only to bring them closer together. Now she knew Respin had needed to be shown the way to letting go of the hate. It always bothered her that she didn't get the chance to help him. She lost him. She knew now that it would have been impossible to reach him. If only this truth would have arrived before his death.
They made what she thought would be their last stand together at her temple eight years ago. She had brought the party she ran with to save her temple. The word had come that the followers of Vhaerun, a rival god, would attack her temple. The enemy came in overwhelming numbers. It was the first time the temple called for her protection. She stood beside her mother fending off the heathens who would make the sanctuary their own, when Durwen heard her mother demand her retreat.
"I can not leave you or Respin. I will not run and hide while they destroy everything I hold dear." The resolve on her face must have said more then her words. Durwen saw the pain desperation, and frustration on her mother's face.
"If you do not leave you will die here. You must carry out your destiny, and it is not to die here. I will be all right. Respin is at peace now. There is nothing you can do here that will out way the loss of your life. Now go!" Her mother's words still haunted her.
It wasn't until the other priestess got her out that she had thought of what her mother had meant. Her mother, Tari, had not been scared to loose her daughter. She had adopted Durwen after her birth mother's death. Durwen knew she was loved as a Tari loved her own children. It was the thought of Durwen's death and the loss of the gift the other priestess knew she would develop. The pain was not over a daughter dying.
Respin had died for her; no sacrificed everything he had for her cause. And if things had been simpler, if he had lived on, she might have loved him. He had been the first of a hand full of outsiders to ever really accept her. It was that loyalty that had forced her to make the hardest decision in her life. Respin had resurfaced in Waterdeep not only alive, but looking for her. She mourned for him for several years. Even though his death had been noble and worthy of a hero's farewell, she missed the company. When he had resurfaced all of the affection in her heart had been replaced with understanding and compassion. She didn't know how to tell him she had moved on, but she knew eventually she would have to.
In the first meeting between Adras and Respin, Adras had made a subtle yet effective stand where she was concerned. She knew they were small gestures but they had meant so much to her. When Adras had arrived she was on her way to have dinner with Respin. She was dressed in a simple yet fashionable gown. Durwen knew walking the streets looking like her drown form would cause no end of trouble and probably get her killed. So to further match Respin, she had taken on the image of a fair skinned wood elf. Durwen's normally silver hair was a shade of brown. Her ebony skin became a light shade of brown.
Upon entering the room, Adras had shown his displeasure at her appearance. The glamour faded away to leave her standing there looking like her natural self.
"You are so much prettier that way," Adras said as his grimace faded into a smile. Then upon his graceful and somewhat tactful exit of her room he had placed a simple kiss on her hand. To him it might have been the everyday acts of a gentleman, but to her they had spoken volumes. They told her of a budding interest. After that moment things changed. Adras was in many ways the exact opposite of Respin. While Respin had tried to rid himself of his mixed blood, Adras spent his time ensuring no one else fell victim to the life that had been thrust upon him. It was Adras' willingness to stand up for what he believed that she admired the most. Durwen had watched him defend his beliefs every time he killed a member of the under dark.
It wasn't until he had stood in between in closest friend, Faelor, and her that she understood exactly how far he would go for a friend in need.
The only word that could fit the scene was brutal. They scent of blood had been thick. The signs of a battle were evident. She could see the footprints smashed into the soft earth. The smells of smoke and drying blood began to choke her. The village had been to quiet upon their approach and the reason was all to clear as they drew closer. The freshly slaughtered bodies of the wood elves lay discarded, as one would toss aside an unwanted apple core. The worst of them were the children. Their aces were locked in an eternal state of fear. She knelt down beside the toddler and pulled his hair out of his face. His eyes stared up at her. Eyes which normally would twinkle and sparkle with innocence, showed only pain and agony. She stared at the scene in disbelief that one person could do this to another. Then again drow, the ones that turned their back on the night above, they were not real people. They were fallen souls with nothing but anger and fear to fill the emptiness.
"Your people did this!" Faelor's screamed words had been the only thing to reach her at that point. She stared at him. Durwen knew he only saw a drow in front of him. She knew he didn't see the person who had been traveling with him. Then again all she saw was a wood elf. He wasn't the Faelor she traveled with. He was one of them she thought as she looked at the toddler. These were his people.
"These are not my people. They are murders. MY people could not do this to another soul." She hated being thrown in with them; she was not a murderer. She was not a savage who fed on fear. She was a protector, a defender.
"This was done by drow! They are your people! See what your people do!" He spat the words at her. She knew he spoke only from the pain and shock at such a loss of life. His words stabbed her deeper then any knife could have. They slashed at her soul and heart.
"Leave her alone." Adras' words had been quiet, but effective. "She didn't do this."
"Get out." Faelor glared at her, not wanting to admit the simple truth to Adras' words.
She had retreated into the edge of the woods out of respect of the fallen. She watched quietly as the scene between the two played out. She saw Adras step into the light. She watched his drow coloring fade into that of a wood elf.
"These are my people, too. I am also part drow. What does that make me?" She heard Adras begin to reach Faelor through the pain. She saw Adras break through the anger, leaving Faelor with only the truth of the matter.
"If you need to kill a drow…kill me." Adras said as he stepped back into the shadows. She had rarely seen Adras choose to step into a shadow or dimly lit area. It was an oddity of his being a full elf but still only half drow. His tan skin shifted to a deeper black then her own. She liked him better this way. They struggled against the evil exterior of being a drow. It was this common pain they shared. His posture changed and she could see him imitating the drow who would murder for pleasure and profit.
"My people have died here too. I am half wood elf and half drow. Would you kill me?" Adras' words were honest and compassionate for his wounded friend. The confusion and pain on Faelor's face showed vulnerability Durwen had rarely seen on anyone else. It was his compassion that made her want to know Adras better.
"She may be naïve, easily controlled, and flighty, but she is not evil." Adras' words were harsh. Durwen thought there could have been something between them, but now she knew it was but compassion for another. She walked away, unable to listen to his words anymore. His opinion was clear. She didn't need him to elaborate further.
She found a soft spot under a tree and sat, drawing her legs up around her. The shock finally began to wear off allowing her tears to flow out of her. It was an eternity before the pain ebbed and allowed her to regain control. When Durwen looked up she saw Otis, one of the few who had always been sweet to her. The half ogre struggled as she did to try to redeem himself against a race that had wronged others. She wiped her face.
"I am sorry people hate the way other people look." His words were that of a child, simple and caring. His gentleness comforted her. She watched as he scavenged for seeds to bury with the fallen. It was tradition to bury the wood elves with seeds to help promote life even in death.
But now she searched to reach a very different man. Adras' anger and pain had taken him to a place she only hoped he could come back from. Now he resembled the drow of the under dark and not a follower of Elistrae. Now he sought to destroy the world one soul at a time.
Rest did not come easy for her after the loss of Respin, now it was worse. Now, Durwen had to deal with the guilt she felt over the innocent lives that had been destroyed. It was her gift to be able to see the desires of her patron deity. This gift came with a tremendous about of responsibility. Now all Durwen saw was him. Every time Durwen saw Adras kill it was her hand not his releasing the arrow. She felt him sneak in close and draw his rapier. She felt the blade slip in through the skin. She could smell the blood break through the wound. She could hear the soft sickening crunch of bones being scarped with the metal of the blade.
When he killed women it was worse. She felt it every time he pierced the heart of a female. She felt the metal pierce her skin. She felt the tip of the blade slip through the muscles. She felt the metal enter her heart and the muscle begin to slow. She saw the eyes of the victims widen. She felt their breathing become ragged. She felt the moment of death come and the light fade from their souls. She felt the absolute loss of death.
She allowed the memories to wash over her and slip away. Her mind returned to the road under her. The setting sun peeked through the limbs of the trees in front of her. She knew she was still about a days ride out from Waterdeep. She would have to ride all night or make camp. She knew Jasper would not be able to carry her much farther without putting up a fight. She slipped off the saddle and began to look for a place near a small stream. When she finally found one she allowed her horse to graze and enjoy the rest. Quickly she set out to finding enough wood to build a small campfire. When the fire was tended to and her horse was happily meandering around the site, she went into the woods to sing and dance. She needed to pray more now then ever. She needed to feel the connection that let her know she was on the right path. And then maybe tonight she would be able to choke back the tears long enough to find peace.
When the night's sky had finally come and the moon was high over the trees, Durwen set out to find the clearing she had stumbled upon earlier. She broke through the edge of the woods to see the night sky dusted with a hand full of diamond dust stars. The night sky was filled with a thousand glittering specs of light. Little fluffy clouds seemed to hang there in an attempt to absorb some of the radiance of the full moon. The bright light that came down from the moon reminded her why she was all too happy to be one of the few surface drow.
She brought the blanket from Jasper's back to place her gear on as she danced the sword dance. The ground was slightly chilled, but it felt good against her bare feet. She found a flat rock near the edge of the clearing. She unfolded the blanket and placed her riding cloak on it. She then began to undo the straps that held her silver breastplate in place. As she lifted the weight over her head she could already feel the difference in her own posture. She then began to stretch her back muscle and arms. The tension in her limbs began to ebb and leave her with the reassured light ache that came with a days ride.
She removed her riding pants and shirt. Durwen would be able to wash the dust of the day out of them soon. She knew she could still wait and if push came to shove go for another three to four days with out a change of clothes. It was easy to deal with dirty clothes while she wore the necklace. It was easy enough with to use the glamour of the chocker to change them to be clean, but she would not worry about that now.
She would not worry about her temple and the inhabitants she called sisters. She would not worry about her past and the mistakes she had made. She would not worry about her uncertain future since her encounter with the Oracle. She would not worry about the Oracle's cryptic messages.
She would also not worry about Adras. She would not worry about the pain she knew was taking him over day by day. She would not worry about the visions of his tears on his face while he tried without success to kill himself. She would not see him take his blade and turn it inward to his heart. She would not watch him slip the metal through his ribs. She would not think about his body slumping over, hitting the floor, and merely healing itself. She didn't understand why he was not dying. All she knew is he wanted to and couldn't. She wouldn't think about it.
She would not worry about anything, there was only think of the dance. Tonight she was not just a healer. Tonight she was just a worshipper who wanted to pray.
It was only when Durwen was free of her clothing that the healer stepped into the middle of the clearing. The healer's hair swept the back of her calves as she raised her still gloved hands to the sky. They white gloves fit snuggly to the palms of her hands and the fingers did not extend past her knuckles. They left the healer's fingers bare to grip and still perform some of the most intricate tasks. Durwen stretched her fingers and the center of the right one began to glow a vibrant shade of white. Her bastard sword began to form and the handle fell into her grip. The healer began to swing the blade high into the sky then in a circular pattern towards the ground. The blades sliced through the air as the healer brought it around and back into the air. She held the hilt of the sword against her stomach with the tip straight up in the air. The metal of the blade felt cool against her skin. The healer stepped into a fighting stance. She shifted her left leg behind her and relaxed her knees. Swiftly the healer completed the moves of the first dance she had ever been taught. Durwen whipped the sword down then up. She spun bringing the sword level with her eyes and then down to the ground. The healer patterns were unbroken until she could move no longer. It was only when the muscles of her legs began to quiver that she stopped. Slowly she lowered the sword for the last time tonight. She allowed the tip to rest in the ground and began to focus on putting the sword away. The silver of the blade began to glow white. The sword began to fade in to nothingness. She walked back over to the blanket and decided it would be okay to rest even if for only a few minutes.
The healer closed her eyes and allowed the thought of her Adras flood her mind. She felt him like she always did. The pain in his chest from the wound she had dealt She felt the direction of his location like a compass find north. She was drawn to her north, to him. She craved being close to him if for no other reason than to ask him the questions she now had. Why could she feel him even from across a continent? Why could she see into his heart all the emotions he bottled from the rest of the world? Why hadn't she been able to feel the difference between his emotions and her? And had it always been this way without her knowing? Were they linked because of what had happened or was it supposed to be like this for them? Was this common or were they special? And why was it so hard for Adras to tell her how he felt a year ago to the day? There would be time for all these questions later. She would get to ask him one day. And hopefully he would understand their situation better then she did. She packed her belongings and headed back to the camp.
She would deal with all these questions soon, but not now. Things always seemed clearer in the light. She found the irony in her birth and her obsession with the light. Since she was a child she enjoyed the day more then the night. Unlike others of her race she could stay in the light without pain. It fascinated her. She loved how it made everything a little more black and white then things in the dark. The honest light of the sun washed over everything exposing the lies hidden in the darkness.
When she got back to the camp her horse was already asleep. She crawled into the tree next to Jasper and buried herself in the winter blanket she used in her hammock. She settled down in between the folded blanket. The fur under neither her and the fur on her bare stomach was the one luxury she afforded herself on the road.
She would find rest tonight and if she were lucky maybe she would find him too.
