Chapter 3: The End.
The night had passed quietly between the two of them, as Darius digested what Aribeth wanted him to do. He had slept with her in his arms again, but she lay awake for most of the night. She could feel him, unwilling and refusing to let go of her, even in his sleep as he moved, twitched and jerked around in his sleep, no doubt fighting some enemy, some thing that she could do nothing against. More than once, his sleep was shattered as his nightmares became far too vivid for him to suffer through.
However, when he bolted upright, his nightmare racked sleep shattered by something that only he could experience and feel. As sudden as he had bolted up was the sudden whip like movement of his sword arm, flying to his hip grasping for the hilt of a blade as sweat rolled down his face, hands grasping and scratching, clawing for a weapon, almost drawing blood as his nails cut through his clothes. He continued to shake even as Aribeth closed her hand over his, causing his finger to stop their destructive action, but they continued to tremble until her fingers were intertwined with his, "Darius? Are you alright?"
He stayed silent for a few moments as he took several breaths as she realized that he had been holding his breath throughout his minute long scramble for any weapon. She held him, as he held her the previous night, their roles reversed as she comforted him. She knew that she had asked a favor that she would never be able to repay. Even as they lay against each other, he could no longer hold himself back as he finally broke his silence, speaking out aloud in to the darkness of the room, where he could not see her face, and she could not see his, "Aribeth, I can't do this, I can't do this… you are all that I have. I can't let go, you, are the only friend that I have left."
"You have to let go – if you want to live, you have to let go. There can't be any future, or any hopes for something between us," she paused, "My time is running out, I have less than a day before….before it…happens."
His tears were silent, and invisible without any light to show them, but his voice could not hide the pain that had already punched through him, "I'm not sure if I can actually go through with this. I know that it is the last request that you will ever make. I, I…" he stopped, unsure if there was anyway for him to express what he felt on the inside, to put in to words the raw wounded emotions that he felt.
"Darius, I need to know, that you will, do, that you will be able to do what I have asked you because we can either do this when the time comes, or we can hurry along this course of events because there is no escaping the fate that is in store for me… I have to pay the ultimate price for my crimes. And I will pay it."
He nodded understanding that she was somehow trying to lessen the burden that she had placed upon him, but he was undecided as to how he could accept the offer, to allow him, the opportunity to end his own pain suffering, earlier, perhaps making it easier for him to close this chapter, and to somehow move on, and start living his life again.
He said nothing, but his silence was enough as she whispered to him, "Its just past dawn," she said nothing more as she released her hold upon him, not saying anything as she slid from the bed and proceeded to get dressed, rapidly pulling on the armor that he had given her. It was the first time that she noticed the armor was similar to her old battle armor, she hefted the Bastard Sword for only a moment, before strapping it on, and then, removing the sword and placing it against the wall. She turned and stared at him for just a moment, "No weapons," before turning away, pulling the cloak's hood up and about her face, once again to blend in to the city.
He looked at her, standing before him, and could barely speak, but somehow, managed to choke out a few words, "I can't do this, Aribeth and… I just cannot. I'm scared to let go of the only thing that has any meaning to me." He protest was weak and subdued. He would not fight against her… it was her path, her choice and her destiny that she would have to walk on her own. She was the one to make the choices, and all he could do was follow her.
He did not know who needed whom more, whether she needed him to support her so that she would do the right thing. On the other hand, was it a case of him being unable to let her go, and that she was trying to help him do just that. He was uncertain whether to hate her for trying to lessen the difficulty of what he had to do. She stood, silent, and the silence was a wave of accusation that cut at him, accusing him of being unable to grant the wish, of a dying friend.
She stood to the side as he rose from bed and began to prepare. With the usual armor and weapons, he made a single adjustment, sliding a specific short dagger in to place beneath his forearm gauntlet. The dagger was identical to any normal dagger except that the blade was hollowed out metal that was filled with a paralytic poison - a swift and merciful end.
Taking a few more minutes he tried to calm himself, to focus upon the task at hand, where he would have to end his the life of his last friend… once she was gone, he would only have one task and duty to perform, before all ties to him and Neverwinter would forever be severed. He held himself in check, determined not to make her feel any more guilt for what she had asked and for what he would do, an act of kindness and mercy. Darius took only moments to finalize his preparations before nodding to Aribeth.
From the streets of Blacklake, the sun was visible, having just crept about the horizon, throwing blood red streaks across the sky. A red sky, a potent symbol for those who believed in such things that murder would occur this day. A murder that was preventable, if a different course of action had been followed long ago.
Darius did not lead, but hung back, as Aribeth walked, uncertain, a slight tremble in her frame. She knew that she was walking to her doom. A peace that she had never had in life, she had earned in her final days before the vengeful retribution of the broken shattered populace of Neverwinter would fall upon her. That had always gnawed at the back of her mind as she knew what awaited her but she had soldiered on nonetheless.
The streets were fairly deserted, and they both knew why. The people were gathering their strength and fury to unleash upon Aribeth who had a in the final count, a day. Traitors are executed at dusk, always, no matter what their crimes. With the city building its own stores of fury, their passage was rapid through the half-rebuilt Blacklake, and in to the shattered Core. While the Core had been rapidly repaired, there were still many signs of the recent bloodbath, evident in the still unrepaired and broken hulks that littered the streets.
The reached the raise plateau that housed the main gates of the castle, only to stop and stare, Darius unable to believe what had been set up beneath the Tree from which the innocent Fenthwick had been hung. There was no scaffold, there was no hangman's noose, but a pyre of wood and oil built up around a stake. Aribeth's own words from long before shot to the forefront of her consciousness, "… guilty of high treason the only punishment is death by burning at the stake…"
The castle gates were as always closed but the king of the bureaucrats, Mulland the Administrator still stood proud in his robes and badges. He was a symbol of pomp and ceremony that meant little to fighters and killers, "None shall pass within to see Lord Nasher unless you have an appointment," it was a statement of flat truth, designed to deny passage to the common folk.
Darius dropped the hood of his cloak, "Open those gates Mulland," he snapped, his anger barely restrained, "My business is Nasher."
Mulland stuttered for a moment before waving to the guards who stood at the top of the parapet overhead with bows drawn and arrows strung. Two of the three disappeared as the mighty steel portcullis rose and the elegant hand carved wooden doors parted, even as Mulland pointed a finger at Darius, "You may proceed but your companion shall wait here."
Darius clenched his teeth before grinding out the words, "My business with Lord Nasher concerns my companion." Mulland was no fighter, one of the men who had cowered within the castle walls when the Luskans had breached the city's outer walls. Cowardice had never sat well with Darius, especially when it concerned men who were nothing more than bootlickers, and he hated the boots of the lying bastard lord of Neverwinter. The hangman's noose, the hangman's noose…. Never had Nasher ever mentioned that she would burn at the stake as Desther had.
Mulland broke in to a pile of quivering sweat as Darius pushed past him, with Aribeth close behind him. The corridors of the castle reflected the wealth and splendor that Nasher commanded as the Lord of the City, but this wealth was his own private fortune that he spent to enrich his own lifestyle, doing very little, it seemed, for those who live beyond the walls of the castle itself.
Early as it was, Darius knew that Nasher would be awake, and ready to meet him and Aribeth, simply because Darius was not going to leave him any choice. If they had to meet in Nasher's bedchambers, then so be it. However, they were led to the Throne Room. Darius kept an icy glare of hatred welded to his face, hiding the pain he carried with in. he had yet to do the deed, and it was already killing him, slowly but surely.
Every muscle, every fiber within him, resisted every step towards the inevitable, even as he forced himself to take every step, that brought him closer to being like his nickname, the one shouted and praised by those supposedly innocent people. First, he would have it out with Nasher, and in a way, twist the blade in to Nasher, and keep it turning for a very long time. He slowed to match Aribeth's, who's pace had slowed, no doubt fear playing its part, as well as terror, as to what Nasher had in store for her when the sun set. They both knew that to face death on the battlefield was kinder than to die any other death. At least death in battle meant a swift one, whether by blade, arrow or spell. When you know the hour of your death and can count the minutes and seconds until it arrives, fear is immediate, but turns to terror as the moment draws closer.
Darius wrapped his hand and around hers, and when she clenched his back, he almost winced from the fear-induced strength, but held himself in check. She needed him now more than ever before. Almost ironic considering that he did not want to be here. He understood but did not have to like it and he did not like it because it was one man's mistake that was at the root of all the evil to take place.
As if he had never left, the same two members of the Neverwinter Nine were still standing guard. Both continued to stare straight ahead as if watching a scene that nobody else could see. He nodded slightly at them, and one of them, standing to the right of the door, unlocked the door and nodded to Darius, "Lord Nasher awaits within."
Aribeth trembled at those words, but the door had swung inwards, granting them entry in to the inner most sanctum, for the very last time. They stopped about eight feet from Nasher's throne, where he sat back, his face now older than ever, the wrinkles giving his face the appearance of weathered, dry parchment, his formerly salt and pepper hair now almost pure white. He sat there, still dressed in his armor, with his precious sword still riding upon his hip. Darius had his doubts as to whether the formerly plague ridden lord could actually wield the blade with any of his former skill or ability. Personally, Darius was itching to find out the answer to that question, but he knew that he still had the most distasteful act of his entire life to commit, even as Nasher spoke to him, "I see that you have brought the prisoner back earlier than expected."
Darius checked himself again, mentally, "I have brought the Lady Aribeth De Tylmarande to Castle Nevar at her request."
Nasher turned his attention to her, "So, you decided to return early," he considered it for only a moment before asking the question that burned at the forefront of his mind, "Why?"
Aribeth trembled as fear ripped through her but not through her voice, "To surrender myself to what fate has holds in store for me, would either be to surrender myself tonight, or to surrender myself now, what difference does it make, in the final accounting for my crimes?"
He sighed, "I never wanted it to come to this," he paused, shaking his head, even as his own voice quivered slightly, "I never meant for any of this to happen. I sent you away from Neverwinter, to do your duty as a Paladin of Tyr, and also to give you the opportunity to take your revenge against those who had taken what mattered most to you away from you. Why did you forsake Tyr?"
She looked as if she had been slapped across the face, "I never forsake Tyr, He abandoned me, every night in my dreams, I dreamt of him turning his back upon me. You are no better! You claim to have given me the opportunity for honorable vengeance? You did nothing but send me away, with no explanation, no words of comfort, of support, you left me with nothing. You took everything that meant anything away from me!" Her eyes blazed with anger, "You have done nothing but dishonor me! My name! My family!" her tears began to fall as her arm lanced out like an arrow towards Darius, "When there were no others who could possibly give a damn or care about me, you were the one who could not even face me in a prison cell. The savior of your city cares more for me! He has shown me more kindness than you!"
Darius stormed forward now, unable to restrain himself any longer, "But you, you decrepit pompous, lying piece of shit!" Around him, blades were drawn, "We both saw what stands in the Castle Courtyard. You have no honor left, no understanding of what that word means! She would do the honorable thing, but you cannot even keep your word! That is not a hangman's noose in the Courtyard"
The four members of the Neverwinter Nine closed in, circling just beyond the reach of Darius's blades, when Aribeth stepped forward, turning her back upon Lord Nasher, to stare Darius directly in the eyes, "Darius, please, don't. I have asked you for so much already, but I, I must ask for one final thing from you now."
Her voice was calm, but he could hear the break in her voice that was only matched by her already broken heart, and he could do nothing but ask her, "One final wish?"
She held his forearms as her gaze held his, "You let Wyvern live. You let the man who killed your family live. Now I ask you to do the same, for this," she paused, drawing a breath, "this man. To let him live, for his death would do nothing for me, and would only destroy your reputation and trap you in the endless cycle of blood and hatred that you escaped from not long before. Do not fall back to that level. I ask you: - Please, let him live."
He bowed his head, breaking away from the stare of her grief filled eyes, "As you wish, Aribeth. I give you my word," he had to choke out the words, "until my death, by the sword," he whispered, "Nasher Alagondar will not die by my hand, or any hand that I can control, hire or command," his gaze realigned with hers, "This, I promise you."
She nods her understanding as she turned slightly to stare out the window, beyond the pair of men who stood with their blades drawn, "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
Darius shuddered. Nasher watched but he knew that something was gnawing at Nasher's instincts. Darius stepped closer to her, pulling her close, "Much like the dawn of another day not so long ago, when an innocent was sacrificed to appease a bloodthirsty mob."
She nodded, "I have seen that day amongst my many different nightmares but I am ready to face the future now."
"Is, is it time?"
She turned to face him, as Nasher continued to watch the pair. Something was going to happen, his instincts from his adventuring days made that much clear. What that something was, he had no idea even as Aribeth spoke again, "You know it is."
"I'm scared, Aribeth. Me the hero, the warrior, the savior, and I can't even grant a friend," he shook his head, "her wish…"
"Just because you're scared, it does not make you any less of man or of a hero to this city and its people," she chided him softly as she cupped his cheek in her hand, "You are more of a hero than anyone in this city will ever know."
"I don't care for the people or this city. I can't… my heart won't listen to my head and let me…" he nodded, "I promised you… and," he shook for a moment, "I won't break my promise, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as calm forced its way through him. His eyes flashed open speaking, "Ready?"
She nodded once as he palmed the blade. The pair shared one final embrace, and he gave her a tender kiss upon the forehead to say farewell, "If there is a heaven, an afterlife,"
She kissed him gently on the cheek, "There is a heaven and there is an afterlife. I know that. When your time comes, Fenthwick and I will await you, in Tyr's Kingdom."
He nodded as his tears fell, cutting lines in to his face, "I will meet you both there." He took a final breathe that was hard for him to draw as she nodded to him, closing her eyes, "Farewell, my friend."
She simply closed her eyes and stood her ground, not moving, not a single tense muscle in her body as the palmed blade in his hand spun. With her arms around his shoulder, it was easy to find the point. The blade struck, cutting through the cloth, skin, flesh, sliding between the ribs, lunging in to her heart. The twist of the wrist broke the embedded blade and the poison entered her blood. There was the slightest of gasps, as her eyes widened ever so slightly, "Fenthwick?" she whispered, "I'm…" she smiled, "…home."
He cradled her lifeless body. He kissed her gently upon the forehead one final time, as pain, grief, guilt and anger crashed over him like a tidal wave. He felt his own heart break and shatter within him, the pieces of his heart piercing in to his lungs as he found in harder and harder to breathe as lowered her to the floor, and drew the broken bladed dagger from her body. He held it in his hand as Nasher watched it all in shock.
Rising, Darius faced the Lord of Neverwinter and hurled the broken dagger. Its jagged broken edge slammed in to the throne as he channeled his pain, every iota of it in to rage, in to blunt words of the utmost contempt and disrespect, "That," he growled, pointing at the still vibrating dagger, "is all the remains of what was once a true Paladin of Tyr." He took a breath, "You sentenced her lover to death. You betrayed her. She punished your betrayal with treason. She was a Paladin of Tyr. She knew honor and had the courage to take responsibility for her actions and follow the course or honor. May that blade serve as reminder and a lesson to you Nasher. You and your city…" he shook his head, and decided that since he was leaving the city far behind, he need not spare anyone's feelings, especially the supposed Lord of Neverwinter, "If I had known this was how it would end, I would have helped her burn Neverwinter and danced upon the ashes!"
He scooped up Ariberth in his arms, "Open that door," he growled, "I will not ask again."
Nasher stood his ground jaw clenched with his hands clenched in complete anger as he snarled at Darius, "Do you know what you have done by taking justice in to your own hands?" Lord Nasher drew his blade and snarled across the room, his voice echoing across the room, "You bastard! You cannot begin to understand what you have done! The Lord's Alliance will have my head for this!"
"Well, at least justice will be returned in some fashion," he paused as he adjusted his hold upon her, freeing his sword arm, "For the last time, open the damn door!"
Nasher seethed in anger, his blade rising as he measured the distance between him and prepared to pounce. Darius waited, wondering if Nasher would really strike him in the back. The Neverwinter Nine, formed up, ostensibly to protect Nasher if Darius were to attack. But they were more interested in keeping Nasher from attacking and getting them all killed.
Nasher could do nothing but stand his ground as Darius left, carrying the half elf Lady Aribeth De Tylmarande, Paladin of Tyr, Now a lifeless body, the last of thousands who had died, and who would have to be laid to rest, with only one to attend her funeral.
Darius knew what he had done, knew that he done the right thing, he knew that he had spared her, a far worse death, at the hands of the same bloodthirsty mob that devoured an innocent man named Fenthwick Moss. He knew that he would have to do the same for Aribeth as had been done for Fenthwick. But this time, he would have to do it alone.
For Darius, only one final duty remained, that bound him to this city, a task that would take time but he vowed that Fenthwick and Aribeth would be granted the peace in death that they had never had the opportunity to enjoy or treasure in life.
He promised, silently, that he would move Fenthwick's coffin, and make sure both of them were buried at the base of tree upon a hill in the forgotten woods of Neverwinter. That tree engraved with both their initials would be the perfect tombstone for his friends, united at last in death.
"May they know only peace and happiness in Tyr's Kingdom."