„Dreams"
In one of the halls of the Great Library Gorion was looking at her with a stern face, waiting for her answer. It's been long since she feared this stern look. Numerous of the younger scholars as well as passing travelers were hesitant when addressing the sage, because of this aura of rigidity, the look that made many aware all their mistakes and imperfections. But she knew better. No matter how Gorion looked at her she could always climb on his knees and hug him, or throw a bundle of dirt at him sometimes, depending on the mood, and escape with her life. The limits of his patience with her seemed nearly nonexistent.
…I don't remember, she admitted after thinking through the question.
…It's an ancient gift given to those chosen by the elven goddess Angharradh, the gift to see into the future or past, he answered for her. He continued.
…It is said to be given not to the chosen bloodlines, but to those who were in need the moment of birth and it wouldn't be passed among the descendants. Because of this an owner of the gift is extremely hard to find, some claim that there are none in this age. Now, just as the Goddess has three natures, bound to create one entity, the Angharradh's Art of Divination consists of three characteristics: its fleetingness and randomness associated with goddess Aerdrie Faenya, who sends unexpected visions warning about dangers or unraveling secrets like the wind clears the sky from the clouds. Nightly visions showing future or past, a part of Sehanine Moonbow, the caretaker of dreams and mysteries. And… do you remember the last Goddess of the Three, Daria?
...Hanali Celanil, goddess of love... she whispered.
...yes, that's right. That's why the visions of those Gifted by Angharradh depend on their heart. Only those who can love truly see through their visions with clarity and chose the right path for him or her to take to find happiness. When one's heart is clouded by greed or selfishness and has no concern for others he or she wouldn't be able to see anything. It was very wise, do you know why?
...because only a pure heart can love truly?
...yes, that's right. Only those who can open their hearts to others could use their gifts for the good of all and only those who were loved in return could lift the burden of knowing the future. But we should all keep our hearts pure, not only those gifted by the gods, right? The sage laughed good-naturedly. She loved this laugh. The aging sage was the only one she knew that looked at her with such warmth and care.
…That's enough lessons for today, you did very well. Now go play with Imoen a bit.
It had to be hell.
The air was worse than in the Abyss. She could breathe easily, but in every breath she felt as if she was accepting something vile into herself. With all her might she wished not to breath, but she couldn't stop for longer than a minute. It was terrible, like if every gulp of air was a sacrilege.
The landscape didn't deceive her about its nature either. From everywhere twisted statues of devils were looking at her mockingly with red and yellow eyes, laughing at the misfortune that brought her here. If this was the prologue to being consumed by the taint of her father than it was worse that the darkest thoughts she could have on a loneliest night spent crying in her bed. It just had to be hell. Nothing worse should ever exist.
She couldn't see anything alive that'd keep her company in this place. It was good in all the possible ways. Her companions weren't here – they didn't go to this hell, and there were no devils or other creatures of undoubtedly nefarious nature. And yet she didn't feel optimistic.
There were six gates facing a central pedestal looking like twisted bodies of some enormous devils bound together in the middle. Five of them seemed to lead somewhere underground, intense heat was emanating from at least one. The last one was the biggest and looked the most terrifying. It was closed and guarded. Five eyeballs were watching her constantly from its frame, with no eyelids to close. Five gates. Five eyes.
She wasn't curious what was behind the last dark portal, but there was no other chance to find a way out, if there even was one. She heard a flapping sound of wings and a white feather fell before her on the grey stone that made the ground. There would be nothing should she look up, something inside told her that, but she picked up the white feather. It was warm and still white despite touching the dark ground of this realm, as if trying to testify that it was possible to remain untarnished in this evil domain. Daria squeezed it in her hand and approached the first gate.
She wasn't planning to give up yet.
"Every soul can become noble or vile, but strength and weakness are a different matter entirely." A demoness welcomed her behind the threshold of the first gate making Daria jump. She was gigantic compared to an elf, covered in scales in color of dark blood, so typical to her kind, and had tattered wings on her back. With every word a smell of sulfur was coming out from her mouth. "Do you know what makes the difference? I do." Daria made a step back when the demoness spread her torn wings. She summoned a stoneskin and momentarily cursed herself for not taking time to re-learn the spells she used up against Irenicus. She rushed to the gate. She shouldn't have. If only the air was more bearable she could've taken the moment to prepare more spells.
But the demoness only smiled and continued the monologue, without any more rapid movements. "Before you awaits a test, that will open a part of your soul, your heart, your potential to you – if you can accomplish it. Do not worry, it will not put you in any sort of danger, you are perfectly safe here. But what about your friends?" The demoness chuckled, melting back to wherever she came from never waiting for any sort of answer. "Go." Her talon disappeared the last, pointing into a dark corridor that opened behind Daria's back, in a place of a stairway that lead her here.
Feeling something heavy and unpleasant in her chest the elf stepped into the corridor. To leave or to go on into the darkness? But she couldn't simply ignore the words of the demoness. The narrow passage stunk noticeably and gradually became darker the further away she moved from the source of light in this hell. When it became too dark for even an elf to see the walls on her sides that couldn't be more than three feet apart, she summoned a magic Light to show her the way. Immediately she regretted this decision and the heavy tightness in her chest became a strangling knot. She knew what this place was.
Irenicus' dungeon that burned its mark into her spirit was welcoming her back. And this time it was not abandoned.
The demoness' words rumbled inside her head. 'What about your friends?' Falling she might have felt their presence, she felt as if she was bringing them together, calling them to fall with her, but why here? Why would they come here if only she was linked to Irenicus and this hell? Why wasn't this her imagination? How could they fall into this darkest pit of her heart?
Trying not to slip on the puddles of ancient mud, that were the only sign that the dungeon was once part of a sewage system under Athkatla, Daria hastened her pace and then began to run. The passage seemed too long, almost infinite, nothing but darkness ahead of her. Before she managed to reach its end she lost her breath entirely and had to stop, wheezing, her lungs begging for fresh air she wouldn't find here. When she doubled over to catch her breath she finally noticed something.
A line of red liquid mixed with the gray puddles, a stream coming from somewhere ahead in the darkness. Blood, a lot of it, slowly merging with the dirt, like a river falling into the sea. The floor, her shoes, all was already marked with red.
She retched. Someone… who? Why? Because of her? Because her demons were real here? Her stomach hurt, she all hurt, but still moved further. She couldn't run though. Red was everywhere.
Just when she was beginning to think that this tunnel had no end and she was stuck in an infinite limbo of despair the end of the passage appeared in the silver light of her spell. Heavy bars were blocking it, but there was a lever to let the owner of this place inside. She tried to pull it, putting all of her weight into it, but the metal gear would not even budge. It was made for golems, not elves.
Regular tapping sound could be heard from behind the bars. Daria shuddered already suspecting what was the source. In last attempt she tried to squeeze between the bars, but with no effect. The space was just too small, the metal enchanted to keep all the prisoners and magic within. There was no way for her to pass through the bars and that left her only one option. She sent her mage light forward.
There was a pool of blood in a hollow of the stone floor. A leak was stemming from it, twisting between the stones that paved the dungeon, passing between the bars and disappearing in the darkness behind her. There were red drops falling from somewhere above one by one, echo of their fall being the only source of sound in the grim dungeon.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
No, one of the two sources of sound. For Daria, her heart seemed to pound much louder.
Heavy red drops falling from somewhere higher. The elven woman's eyes involuntarily moved up. Her mage's Light now shaking and blinking at the verge of control also raised over the ground to cast its pale silver glow on something. Something hung on the hooks and chains just below the ceiling. Something not even resembling humanoid form. Something constantly dripping blood.
"Oh my God!" Daria screamed and jumped away from the bars. The Light flashed and disappeared, in sudden pitch black darkness the elf stumbled and fell awkwardly on the lever, which this time subdued and switched. The metallic clink of rusty bars being lifted muffled the sound of dripping blood for a moment.
In the darkness Daria lied after emptying her stomach on the moist floor. She wished to run back where she came from, wished there was a safe place where she could hide, but there was none. She was alone and the only other that came here with her was there, on those hooks… She bit her fist trying to muffle a sob.
With her limbs feeling like an impossible weight she managed to stand up and began to walk. One her hand she placed on the wall, the other was reaching forward, trying not to bump on something unexpected in now complete darkness. She needed to know, to find out this one last thing. Again she brought death on someone. And she needed to know on whom.
The wall ended to her left, that meant she went through the previously barricaded entrance into the torture chamber. Blood was dripping somewhere ahead of her.
A sob escaped her lips when she realized it was the time to cast the Light spell again. The spell she had prepared, but was not prepared for. She'd rather run away and face the demon by the entrance to this hell, but she needed to know. She needed to know who it was. She wished it could be only a horrid dream, if only she could have horrid dreams, instead of horrid visions of the future.
The single verse of the spell was articulated steadily, with all her willpower and concentration poured into it and she still felt sicker with every word. The sudden silver aura blinded her for few seconds, but her vision returned to normal. Almost completely paralyzed with terror she watched white spots disappearing from before her eyes. She looked up.
The mutilated corpse was gone. In its place a gray strangely shaped stone hovered lightly in the air before her. Drops of blood were falling from its bottom into the pool of blood on the ground. Daria reached out to touch it, half-conscious with shock and mesmerized by its alien beauty.
"Yes. Fear." The demoness spoke to her in the voice of the dungeon, the walls, the moist and the torture chamber talking to her in unison. "I cloud your mind, poison your logic, create illusions eyes and spells are useless against. I crush many, but not you. There are no fearless, few unaware of the risk and very rarely – those who act despite their deepest fears. You are stronger than me, Godchild, and I acknowledge it. The prize is yours."
And once again the scenery of hell appeared around Daria, but now it didn't seem that bad, or terrifying. The tear-shaped stone was glimmering in her hands. There were four more gates before her.
The second gate led her to a place she wouldn't imagine in hells. A ballroom lit with golden light from a huge candelabrum with a thousand or more white candles was waiting for her behind the door. Every free space on the windowless walls was occupied by pieces of art that looked valuable beyond her skills to appraise, or mirrors in beautifully ornamented frames, set just in the right places to illuminate the wonderful feast in the middle or the room. For Daria it was like the ducal palace in Baldur's Gate once more.
Like a gust of gentle breeze another devil appeared by her side. This one didn't look any better than the last one, but the scales on its torso were covered with a dark blue suit that had to be sown precisely for his deformed posture. It was comic to look at a well-dressed devil.
"Allow me…" The devil bowed before her and gracefully took the cloak from her shoulders. It seemed next to impossible to possess any grace with the amount of joints he had and yet he was graceful. Daria frowned noticing fresh stains of blood on the cloth of her cloak, but didn't ward herself against the fiend. This time she thought before wasting a defensive on a creature that wasn't even hostile. At least not yet.
"Please, follow me." The devil put away her cloak showing neatly cut nails – the only human trait this winged creature possessed. He showed her to a single chair placed by the table directly under the candelabrum. When she didn't follow him at once he turned and watched her from some distance.
"I do not wish to test you." The devil smiled without showing his teeth. This also looked very human. "And no one else here does. This place is meant for you to rest and recover your strength. I will give you all the explanations you desire, but I ventured you would prefer to eat first?" The light of candles danced on the silver plates and vases."
"And why would you want me to rest?" The devil was saying he had no bad intentions. Like if she would believe that.
"Because you deserve it." His smile again didn't show even a glimpse of his teeth.
"Explain it."
"Please…" He stopped behind the chair. Still not even slightly convinced of his sincerity Daria cautiously sat. The fiendish butler gradually uncovered the content of the vases and deep plates releasing the delicious smell. They were filled with dishes she dreamed about falling asleep in a tent in the woods of Amn, nothing she would expect from hells, no bat wings of frogs eyes in a soup. This had to be an everyday meal for a king. Briefly considering pros and cons Daria took the silver knife and fork.
"As to your question – why am I helping you? As I said, it's because you deserve it. You are a powerful mortal, who rose to greatness in a very short amount of time and it's only a peak of an iceberg your potential is. I acknowledge it. I am a devil, I originate from a place far more just than the First Material Plane. I reason you deserve all of it."
Daria snorted. "Only a devil could call the Hells just."
"You are mistaken, but your mistake comes from ignorance, not bad intent." The devil didn't lose his smile. "Let me explain to you in an example close your heart." The devil talked while serving the second course. Daria couldn't recall eating that good, ever.
"For you, Daria of Candlekeep, the road started when you were orphaned. You lost your only protector and a man that meant a lot to you. Then you were hounded by an enemy out numbering you by far, enemy both richer and more experienced than you, sharing the same powerful blood and destiny. And despite all that you survived, grew, your weakness you forged into strength, gathered allies and inspired them and eventually triumphed against the odds. You saved not only your own life, but a considerable piece of land from war and death it would bring. You should be offered a place in a palace, riches you rightfully won and a chance to respite as long as you like. This…" the devil gestured presenting the sparkling ballroom. "…is nothing compared to what you deserve. Did you get any of it then?"
"The next stage of your journey" the fiend continued leaving the obvious question unanswered. "From the depths of Irenicus' dungeon, without as much as weapon, you got free. Whatever and whoever you stood in a way of your goal – rescuing Imoen – you conquered. You killed Irenicus the Mad, monster the elves created and rescued their precious Suldanessellar. Were you anybody else, you would be prized as a hero, your name to be celebrated for a thousand years, long even among the elves, but tell me, do you think it will happen? Do you think you will remain a savior in their memory for even a decade? No, you will stop being the hero the moment your good elves learn about your heritage. And they will learn. From your evereskan friend for example. You will be escorted to the city gates the moment they find out."
"Assuming I will return to the living." Daria interrupted, putting down the fork and knife.
The devil smiled again, the same tight-lipped smile. He leaned towards her slightly. "The tears are the key" he whispered. Then he straightened as if he just gave up the greatest secret and had to pretend nothing happened.
"Your gods do not rule with justice, they rule with chaos of their whims. Their prophecies can doom you or save you, depending on their mood and surely there aren't many 'Chosen' who lived long enough to have children and see them grow. And the mortals play along, out-casting those who have the strength to stand up for themselves, who do not dance like puppets to the songs of immortal. This has nothing to do with justice. No, this is our creation.
The devils obey the stronger, rival their equals and use the weaker. Were you a devil you'd be a powerful one, you would truly wield the power gained. Either to do evil or good, mercilessly or with compassion – your choice. Your power. This is just and true."
The vases were covered now that she finished eating and the serviette was removed. He led her back to the gate, handing her back the cloak, now perfectly clean. Then he knelt on one of his opposite-bent knees.
"As I am now I offer myself to you, daughter of dead Bhaal. Here in this dark place you need every tool you can and I will strive to be your best. Wield my strength, my life like a weapon. I will fulfill your every wish. Your strength and ambition are greater than mine – this is the purpose of my existence."
"I can't order anyone like that. I can't decide your fate from you" she answered, certain. That was it for the promise that it wasn't another test.
"Of course you can. You have done it before, with your previous tools. Those weren't brought here so you need new ones."
"Those were not my tools" she answered calmly. If the devil was trying to anger her that he was up for a disappointment. "Those were my friends. And I do not order them like that. They have their own will."
"No, they don't." The devil stood up and smiled, this time the pointed teeth, looking more like a hundred of needles pinned into his mouth, made it more a vicious grin. "They aren't even aware of your manipulations."
"I won't let you manipulate me."
The devil didn't falter. He began to circle her, pretending to straighten the cloak on her shoulders. His fingernails were rustling on the fabric. Somehow she knew that he couldn't hurt her, even if he wanted to, all from the twisted gentleness and care in this sound.
"What did your 'friend' – the knight, want after learning his sister's murder? If he would take his revenge or if he would become a knight – was that his decision? You learned your enchanting friend's future as well, didn't you? In the Trademeet grove. He will be happy with a person he will truly love and live happily ever after, so on and so soon. What was your first thought after you saw this vision? Was it 'I should tell him, make him happy'? Or was it 'how can I change it and take him for myself?'"
"Those… those were…"
"There are thousand little times you played the role of a god in their lives. I'm not speaking about warning them about a brick that is about to fall on their head. I speak about the countless times you altered their fate so that they could be more useful to you. Creating the happy knight you needed to protect you. An enchanter with no goal in life that could as well follow you. Meddling into their lives."
"I only did what I thought was best."
"That's precisely what you did. What you thought best. What anyone else thinks didn't even cross your mind. You have the power and thus the right to choose. It's only natural and the only one who isn't accepting this is you, because of some false upbringing."
"I… It wasn't…"
"I was exactly like that. And let us do this properly now that we discussed this. I hope you have no problem with the fact that I'm not as oblivious as the mortals?" The graceful devil kneeled on one knee again and smiled subserviently. "Do you accept me as your tool? Will you decide my fate?"
Again he was before her waiting for an answer. For a moment she wanted to tear put his eyes for looking at her like that, so… servile.
"No… I won't. And I won't accept anyone else's fate again. I'm going to…"
"What tell them every little shred of information you possess? Make them decide every single detail of your vision?"
"Yes." That was exactly what she was going to do. After apologizing. And telling them everything. Especially Xan. After so many words, this many more were left unsaid…
"No pride then? Pity." The devil stood up. Daria was teeth falling out of his mouth, but he quickly covered it with his neatly nailed hand. On his other palm a gray tear-shaped stone appeared, very alike to the one she found in the Fear's chambers. The devil gave her one last fluent bow handling her the stone and melted into the hells with the rest of the ball room. The second giant gate closed behind her.
"Help!" A croaky voice called her from behind the third gate. "Help me!"