Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 34

The long road home

The fire crackled and hissed when Khalid added more kindling to it, hoping to stave off the creeping chill. Imoen was already beginning to doze off close to the warmth the fire offered. Murmurs of conversation between him and Jaheira drifted over to the edge of the camp where Xan sat bundled in his cloak, unmoving. He didn't pay much attention to what was said or the spellbook in his lap or the soft neighing of horses tethered to a high line by the trees. No, his focus was very much on the not-so-friendly sparring match between two of his companions.

Xan let out a slow exhale the same time the end of a staff glanced off Elene's temple.

Her pained grunt was muted, yet he could tell the blow hurt from the way she rubbed at the sore spot for the next few seconds. She backed away warily as Kivan twirled his borrowed staff in clinical fashion. His face gave nothing away.

"You know what you did wrong there?" asked Kivan.

Her brows furrowed in thought. "Focused too much on the jabbing end. Forgot about the blunt end."

Kivan gave her a subtle nod. Then he advanced again in a flash of movement. This time she maintained tighter footwork, devoting more attention to watching the motion of the long weapon rather than trying to get out of its arc. Their dance continued with neither party getting the upper hand for a few minutes. Although Kivan was an archer first and foremost, he was also skilled with polearms and it showed. It took three nights on the road before Elene was finally able to spar with him on equal footing with her sword.

Curious, Xan wondered if this was a new development. For one thing, she normally did her one-on-one practices with Khalid. Another thing he noticed over the past few nights was she went into each bout with unusual fire in her eyes, as if there was a driving urge in her to actually win the bouts now rather than simply to learn from them.

In the end, though, Kivan managed to exploit a gap in her defence, jabbing in with the finishing move after a well-executed feint. The blow caught her full in the chest, earning him another grunt of pain. Elene was breathing heavily by the time she'd circled away.

A frown creased Xan's brow. Kivan did not go easy on her at all.

"And that?" Kivan asked.

"I…misjudged the angle," Elene replied, frustration creeping in her tone.

"That would've killed you," he pointed out.

She nodded as she looked down, chastised. Once she caught her breath, she straightened. "Again?"

"I think that's quite enough. We put enough effort into healing you, I don't want all that work undone," Jaheira called out from the campfire.

Kivan tilted his head at Elene, a tacit signal to end the bout, then walked towards Jaheira. He returned the staff to her before striding off to the treeline. To tend to the horses, most likely. Elene stood there like a statue staring at the ground, seemingly bothered by something. Eventually, she sheathed her sword and made a beeline towards her pack which she'd left next to Xan before the bouts began, away from the others.

"Are you well?" Xan asked quietly as she rummaged through her pack.

She paused before pulling out her canteen. "They're just sparring blows."

"Did you ask him to have a go at you like that?"

It interested him that he didn't get an immediate reply as she gulped down the water. Once she was done, she took her sweet time capping the canteen, gazing around the campsite. As a man of endless patience, he waited. The truth was, he wasn't exactly keen to hear her answer. He wasn't sure if he would know what to do with it.

"I told him I wanted to learn to fight against two-handed weapons. His way of teaching is just…different from Khalid," she finally said.

Why do you still feel the need to hide things from me, Elene?

"Then why didn't you ask Khalid?" he asked instead.

"I did but his strength is more to one-handed weapons," she shrugged, wiping the sweat from her face with a piece of cloth. "As you can see, there's plenty of tricks I don't know when it comes to two-handers. Better to get a few bruises from Kivan now than to lose my head in a real fight."

Xan made a non-committal sound. Sensible, if a bit severe. And there was still something else she was holding back. In the quiet moments they spent alone after the fiasco at the Iron Throne building, she always seemed on the verge of confessing what was troubling her. Like it was right at the tip of her tongue. Yet she never did.

A quiet murmur and a cantrip flash later, Elene already looked refreshed when she glanced at him. "And you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine now. Though I won't deny that I'm grateful to be traveling on horseback rather than on foot."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "That makes one of us then."

It tickled all of them to no end that as fast a learner Elene was, she was terrible with horses. If they didn't have both a druid and a ranger on hand to calm her animal and guide the horse as they rode, Elene would have probably fallen off at least a few times.

Despite himself, he echoed her smile, his tinged with fondness. "And here I thought you were always keen to learn new things."

Her smile grew as she turned her gaze to really look at him. There she was, he thought. Like a twinkle of light in the dark when her burdens were temporarily forgotten. A warm feeling settled in his chest as he thought of the look in her eyes that night in the Elfsong, and after when they sat in her room until close to dawn just talking and enjoying the presence of one another. It made him want to kiss her again.

And yet, he reminded himself that he had to be the adult in this relationship. Friendship. Whatever this thing between them was.

"What is it do you think we'll find in Candlekeep?" he asked gently.

Her expression fell at the question, as if that hadn't been one she wanted to hear. After a moment, she replied, "Nothing good, I'm afraid. I worry how we're supposed to 'coax' the answers out of these men."

"You have a few spells up your sleeve now, same as I."

"It's not that simple." She shook her head. "Ulraunt takes pride in the...safety and wellbeing of the guests. We can't just walk up to Rieltar or this Tuth fellow, charm them with a spell and run out of there hoping no one remembers. The library is well-guarded, by Watchers and magic both. It's called a fortress for a reason."

"We can strike while they're asleep," he suggested.

"We could," she agreed slowly. "But again, it would require an exit plan beforehand. As far as I know, there's only one way in and out of the Keep. And I hate to say it, with Gorion gone, there's not much goodwill I can leverage on to get us out if anything goes wrong."

"You expect something to go wrong," he observed.

She scoffed. "After what happened at the Throne's base? Don't you? I just think we should go in with our eyes wide open this time. Rieltar, Sarevok…their plans may be unravelling but they are no fools. Why Candlekeep? Did the Knights suggest the meeting place or was it a continuation of something the Anchevs recommended earlier? It's all too much of a coincidence, we must watch our step."

He opted not to share his own dark thoughts on the matter. He'd sensed the ominous pull of disaster even as they departed the gates of the city like bats out of hell. Although the letters indicated the plans had changed at the last minute for the Throne as much as it did for them, in his mind he suspected the same as her, that this was all somehow part of a set up. One designed especially for Elene.

Nonetheless, he continued to probe. "Yet you're training as though you expect to fight them."

"I am…afraid," she admitted, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. "Sarevok's man almost swatted me like a fly. I shudder to think how strong Sarevok himself is."

Xan leaned closer, suddenly wishing for privacy. It was impossible to ignore Jaheira a few dozen paces away, no doubt quietly watching. "You won't be facing him alone, Elene. We won't let that happen again."

"We don't know that. All I can do is prepare. Chances are, the Anchevs are the ones after me. I get the feeling that it's personal."

"All I can say is, try not to face your enemy head on. Even now, as the net closes, they are still in an advantageous position. You must use all the guile and tools at your disposal to make sure you don't end up where they want you to be. Don't let them corner you into thinking you must fight them on their terms," he told her.

"I suppose…in the heat of the moment, it's hard to keep that in mind."

"Then I will be right here to remind you," he said simply.

They sat in companionable silence for a long stretch. The sounds of the forest gave him comfort, a welcome change from the tenday in a bustling city. Eventually, Kivan returned from wherever it was he disappeared to and settled in for first watch. That was the cue for the rest of them to get rest, but Xan felt reluctant to leave their cosy bubble. He wished they hadn't left the Gate.

Suddenly, she reached over, ghosting a touch on his arm. "Thank you. For being here. It…it does help."

He paused, watching her. "Is there…something else on your mind?"

"I…I don't know how to explain it." She pulled distractedly at her sleeve as she fell into silence. He dared not breathe too loudly for fear she may bolt at any interruption. Eventually, she continued, "I feel like something's crawling on my skin at times. Like something's about to happen. It gets hard to reverie or even sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Zhalimar. I know he's dead but…I suppose I imagine Sarevok to be much like him, to be able to inspire such loyalty."

Zhalimar. The Iron Throne man they spoke with at dinner, he recalled, all knowing glances and quick smiles. If he'd known the man would go to such lengths to hurt her, he would have taken the man's head off at dinner, courtesy be damned.

Xan took a deep breath. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Would it have changed anything?" she asked shrewdly.

Much as he wanted to argue the point, he couldn't. They were all slowly but irrevocably being drawn into the Throne's web of intrigue, almost against their will. Even if they wanted to, his duty would not allow him to walk away from it, Jaheira's mission wouldn't allow her to let it go and Elene needed answers to be able to move on with her life.

"Perhaps not," he said. "But I can help you."

Elene chuckled as she caught on. "Sleep spells don't work on us."

"Charm spells do, though. If you will allow me."

"You…could do that?" She tilted her head with interest. "Is it not against some vaunted code of enchanter ethics?"

He reached over, pulling at a loose strand of hair framing her face. "Well. Some codes aren't set in stone."

The moment the words left his mouth, Xan knew that he was going soft. She was right in that using such spells for trivialities was frowned upon among his profession. Still, if it could ease her burden for one night, he felt it was his responsibility to try, for her sake.

"I'd appreciate that," she smiled.

Together, they strode to the campfire where Imoen and Khalid had already bedded down. Jaheira glanced up from her task of laying out the equipment for the next morning, then proceeded to ignore them. Once Elene was comfortably in her bedroll, Xan murmured a short verse, an old charm his mentor had taught him to pacify another person. With his personal touch, though, the simple cantrip-like spell became an enhanced version that doubled up as a sedative of sorts, useful to lull the target into artificial calmness. Not the first time he'd had to resort to it, and likely not the last.

He watched her for a few breaths as she began to drift off without the burden of her worries cluttering her mind. The peace written on her face was worth the effort.

Drawing himself up to his feet, he drew his cloak closer. The motion disguised the fact that he was rubbing at a phantom pain in his chest, a lingering remnant of the near fatal wound he'd suffered. Jaheira had warned him colder weather would cause a flare up, and he wished she wasn't always right about such things. The cumulative aches and pains over the years felt like they were adding up, and the last brush with death was an all too painful reminder of his own mortality.

Instead of retiring, he walked away from camp, past the treeline and into the woods. The wilderness of the Lion's Way was nowhere near as dangerous as Cloakwood. It was a good opportunity to gather his thoughts before he tried to catch some rest. Tomorrow they would arrive at Candlekeep, where they would need to be at their sharpest.

Hopefully the Greycloak elders will get my message in time. If anything happens to me, someone needs to make sure this problem doesn't snowball into something disastrous.

He thought of the findings Khalid shared with them, the extent of the schemes of Rieltar and his cronies. At first glance, a war between Baldur's Gate and Amn technically should not trouble Evereska overmuch. Unless the conflict spilled over to the east or roving mercenaries began to expand in that direction in the aftermath of battles. One thing he knew about wars, though, the outcomes were seldom clear. All manner of chaos and strife could spiral out in all directions, with repercussions felt for decades after. The conflict between men was strange, he thought, born of greed and short-sightedness. It would never cease to amaze him, the lengths at which such men would go to for something as pointless as coin.

Deep in thought, he only noticed footsteps behind him when they were close at hand. Slowly, he turned to accost his guest, a hand already in his pouch of spell components. Yet he had a sense of who it was.

Jaheira appeared amid the trees, her expression unreadable. He tilted his head questioningly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"That's a loaded question if there ever was one," was her retort. "I wish to speak with you."

He spread his hands. "Speak away."

Jaheira studied him in the silence. "You and Elene seem to be remarkably close of late."

This is certainly not the kind of conversation I want to have with Jaheira now. Or ever, for that matter. How long would it take for her to get to the part about threatening bodily harm if I hurt Elene, I wonder?

"We have been close for a while now," he remarked, his tone carefully bland.

"Indeed. I'm not going to insult you by asking your intentions," she said, a wry quirk to her lips. "As much as I perceive her as a child at times, she is in fact her own woman now. That she seems to have affinity for you rather than someone like Coran is a good sign."

"Why thank you for the glowing seal of approval," he said, matching her wry tone one-to-one.

Her half-shrug was unrepentant. "Take it as you will. I do, however, have a question for you."

Despite sensing danger in her words, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. "What is the question?"

"Once we solve this problem, will you return to Evereska?" she asked.

"That does come with the territory of being a Greycloak, yes," he answered slowly, wondering where she was going with her line of questioning.

"What do you plan to tell them?"

"The truth, obviously," he frowned.

"I see. Now imagine this…the truth, the reason why the Throne pursue her, suddenly turned out to be unpleasant. What if the answers to her questions in the end painted her as a threat to Evereska or your people? What then?" she prodded, her eyes like gleaming pinpricks.

Xan stared at her. "You are asking what I would do in a choice between Evereska and Elene."

"Neatly put." Jaheira's smile flashed like a knife in the dark. "Can you answer?"

"It is a disingenuous question," he said without hesitation. "How can she be a threat to Evereska? She wouldn't harm a fly if it didn't try to kill her first."

"Can. You. Answer. The question?"

A glare was his response. This was the first time he'd received the full heat of Jaheira's questioning, and he didn't care for it. For one thing, it truly was a ridiculous question. For another, he didn't have a ready answer to give.

"I will not waste my time thinking about it," he retorted coolly. "The more likely outcome at this juncture is death, if what happened at the Throne base was any indication. Perhaps we should devote more mental resource on avoiding that, rather than on unlikely hypotheticals, don't you think?"

For a long while, Jaheira said nothing. Even in the dark, her gaze burned, and he felt a brief but intense flash of self-loathing for his cowardice. If she had been a full elf, he would have put serious consideration toward recommending her to join the Greycloaks. She could strip a man bare without saying a word.

"I would like you to think hard on where you stand, Xan. For I will stand with Elene no matter what we find." She began to turn away but left him with a parting shot. "Remember that."

He watched her until she was well out of sight, not knowing what to think. It would not do to lie to her, he knew, she was much too astute for him to get away with it. Jaheira had taken both Elene and Imoen under her wing and she would undoubtedly protect them to the bitter end, no matter the cost to herself. The druid applied herself with the same intensity to the wellbeing of her charges as she did to everything else she did.

Sighing, he sat down on a convenient fallen tree, mulling her question over properly. Duty was simple, he thought. His life for Evereska, everything he did was to protect it and the people in it. A simple, clean concept. As for Elene, his feelings for her were also simple in a way, born of admiration and attraction, sincere affection for a good person trying to strike out on a straight path in life. While he already cared for her, given time he could see himself coming to love her. Against all odds and his better judgment, he could already feel the treacherous seed of it growing in his heart.

Taken together, though, things ceased to be so straightforward. Logically, he knew he would never forsake his duty for her. That was never an option for him. But if…if the truth really painted an ugly picture of Elene, what then? Her mysterious powers, the secrecy, the unknown enemies. He couldn't ignore the strong possibility that whatever it was about Elene, it was something significant. At the end of it, what would he be willing to report to his superiors? The unvarnished truth? Or a more polished version of events for her sake?

Can moonblades understand grey choices? Or would I be struck down for skirting a fine line of my own choosing?

Then he wouldn't have anything else to worry about, he supposed. Survival brought with it a plethora of distressing trade-offs; decisions he didn't know he could make in good conscience. Even in his evasiveness, there was a kernel of truth in his answer to Jaheira. The truth of the matter was, in a choice between his duty and Elene, the simplest outcome was death.

Elene's face came unbidden into his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut against it, the memory of her leaning so trustingly into his touch. Perhaps…he needed to learn to keep his distance. Whether he lived or died, there was likely no happy outcome for them. He almost wished things could be different, but he recognised such thoughts were equally futile. And he didn't partake in exercises of futility.

Eventually, he ambled his way back to camp and slipped into a troubled reverie next to Khalid. Try as he might, he walked the wondrous halls of his beloved home in his reverie to remind himself what he fought for. When he awoke in the morning, though, he still felt perturbed. Dreams and memories were naught but cold comfort.

He looked up, glaring at dull, grey skies. Much like his own mood, he thought uncharitably. Glancing at Elene, though, she looked better rested although she moved with the stiffness of someone carrying bruises. Jaheira caught his eye as he glanced away from Elene, the same knowing look in her gaze triggering a prickle of discomfort. Curse the woman for reminding him of their conversation last night. Somehow, he guessed she would not let up until she got a straight answer from him.

"We'll reach Candlekeep by Highsun," Kivan said as he gently patted one of the horses. He showed more tenderness in his interactions with their mounts than to any of them in the months they'd spent together as a group. "Weather permitting."

"Hey, we're not far from where we met, right?" Imoen asked him, grinning.

Kivan cracked a small smile. "Not far, no."

"See, we did learn how to read directions."

"About time," Kivan grunted, but without his usual sting.

Imoen stuck her tongue out at him as she pulled at a piece of bread, earning her a chuckle from Khalid. Their bedrolls were already bundled up, equipment on the ground just waiting to be picked up for the journey. Yet another early start to the day, with rest mostly to accommodate the horses than the people who rode them.

"How long ago was that?" Elene asked suddenly, her voice soft. "Five months?"

Kivan shrugged. "About there."

"Hmm," Elene gazed off into the trees, thoughtful.

"We can celebrate milestones later. I'm more interested in how we are going to proceed once we arrive at the Keep. Have you given it further thought, Elene?" Jaheira asked as she packed away the last of her gear.

"First, we have to surrender the tome to the Gatewarden. Then I suppose we head to the Inn as quietly as possible. Try to get some news from Winthrop before we venture into the Inner Keep," Elene explained, clearly having given the matter a lot of thought. "Meetings of this sort would take place in the library itself, on the third or fourth floor. Well-guarded, resistant to scrying. We'll need to figure out their schedule and try to get them outside the meeting. I just hope we haven't missed them."

"They were only two days ahead of us. With the horses, we've likely cut down that lead by just a day. There's time," said Xan.

"And after?" prodded Jaheira.

"After…" Elene scrubbed at her face tiredly. "We will have to corner one of them. Try to provoke them into saying something, I suppose. They would be just as reluctant as us to start a fight. That could be to our advantage."

"A Friends spell could be subtle enough," murmured Xan.

Elene made a face. "Well, I can't pull it off. These men have been trying to kill me for months."

"Leave it to me then," he said.

"I would suggest we stick together once we're inside, unless there's no choice," remarked Khalid.

"Yeah, didn't work too well for us the last time," agreed Imoen.

Elene dropped her gaze to her hands, seemingly bothered by the reminder. "Alright, but if I may, I would like to…see Gorion's room one last time. I feel like…I never truly said goodbye to him. Not in the way I wanted to."

Khalid's features softened at that. "Of course."

"It's a sound plan so far." Jaheira nodded to Elene and Imoen. "We need the two of you to be our eyes and ears in there. Watch for anything unusual."

"I reckon the only thing unusual is gonna be us." Imoen shrugged. "Candlekeep is boring. Nothing ever happens there."

"Let's hope it remains that way," Xan remarked.

With that, they finished their meagre breakfast and mounted the horses for the last leg of the journey. They kept to the roads, heading east after the crossroad linking the Lion's Way to the Coast Way. Even on horseback, Xan could see the traffic mostly went south to Beregost. Not many would have reason to venture to Candlekeep. Supply caravans were few and far in between, Imoen told him. The Keep was designed to be self-sufficient for the most part, relying on a small hamlet nearby for food.

Just like the days preceding, they rode without stopping, trying to cover as much ground as possible without wearing their steeds into the ground. While he would have preferred to make the journey through magical means, he supposed the ride gave them more time to think and prepare. Not that he was thinking of anything terribly productive as he rode, his eyes invariably drawn back to Elene.

What secret did your father take to his grave, that causes death to shadow your every step?

A white stone fortress began to come into view just as the sun reached its zenith. Candlekeep was a lot bigger than he expected, ringed by high walls and parapets, with one narrow pathway leading to its gates while behind it lay the Sea of Swords at the bottom of a rocky cliff. Only one way in or out, just as Elene said.

This place looks nigh on impregnable. An odd place to wish to raise a child.

Kivan called for a halt as they were within stone's throw of the gates. Two guards stood at the ready, eyeing them from afar. The party caught their breath for a bit before dismounting, gazing up at the high walls as they waited for Elene to relinquish the tome that Duke Eltan had given them.

Yet Elene hesitated. For a few drawn out moments, she sat on her horse utterly unmoving, eyes fixed on the top of the walls. She looked troubled for someone seeing her beloved home for the first time in months, against all odds. What should be a joyous homecoming for her instead seemed to be an occasion of fear and dread.

"Elene," Imoen called to her.

Blinking, she seemed to snap out of her daze. Carefully, she lowered herself from her steed and pulled at the reins to guide it forward as she approached the gates. The rest followed suit. Recognition flickered through the lead guard when she stood in front of him.

"Gatewarden," she addressed the guard with a respectful bow, pulling out a thick tome from her satchel. "We offer you a tome of great value for your store of knowledge. Will you let us pass?"

The guard took the proffered 'payment' with both hands, almost reverent in his gesture. The man's age was impossible to guess at for while he had a youthful face, his eyes spoke of a solemnity that could only come with time. Wordlessly, he turned the tome over in his hands, reading the cover before flicking through the pages with great interest. Eventually, he nodded in approval as he snapped the tome shut.

"This will do indeed. We thank you for your tribute." To Xan's surprise, the Gatewarden stepped forward and clasped Elene on both shoulders, a familiar warmth radiating from his smile. "Welcome home, Elene."

"Hey, what about me?" Imoen complained.

"You! I can't believe you lied to me when you left! Winthrop will give you a hiding you won't soon forget, girl!"

Merry chattering ensued in the little reunion, both Elene and Imoen clearly familiar with the Gatewarden. That was one barrier out of the way, then. And yet, as Xan's eyes wandered back to the spires of the Keep, he wondered if this was simply the calm before the storm.

.

Author's Note:

And the plot rumbles inexorably forward. For some reason, when I try to imagine the events of this chapter, it's like watching the scenes unfold through a grey-blue filter. I wonder if it's just the effect of trying to get into Xan's headspace.

Many thanks to my beta, Odivallus.