The Soothsayer

Part Three

Imoen sat upon the stone floor, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find something intelligible to say. She realised she must have looked like a fish out of water, but she could feel the Soothsayers eyes drilling into her, even though she couldn't see them under the cowl. She really needed to get a grip soon… if she was going to go then she was going to go with at least one pair of clean underwear. Steeling herself, the red head rose to her feet.

"So… I guess you were watching us the entire time," she said.

"I see many things," the Soothsayer spoke, "you know, what with me being a seer and all."

"Only… you don't see the future at all, do you?" Imoen inched away from the door, slowly moving towards the Soothsayer but staying close to the walls. "You just want whatever's in that box…"

"Oh, you want the exposition before you die… well, yes, I do want what's in the box. Unfortunately, there's a quite nasty trap in there as well. You won't have spotted it… it's actually on the inside waiting to spring out on whoever opens it first, so I also need you. Terribly selfish of me I know, but I just don't want to die… and you're just a tool to ensure that."

"What's in there?"

"Well now… you'll just have to open it to find out, won't you?"

"Right… I hope you don't mind me answering that in sign language," she said as she raised her fist and extended the middle finger.

"What a charming girl," the Soothsayer chuckled. Then, slowly and deliberately, the seer tucked it's staff under it's right arm and reached into it's left sleeve. Imoen's muscles tensed, fearing the Soothsayer was reaching for another weapon, but instead the seer produced a piece of string tied around a coin… of course, it could have still been magical in some way so Imoen decided to keep an eye on it as the Soothsayer held up the string with the coin dangling on the end, which then started to spin…

"You really do want to see what's inside, don't you?" The Soothsayer spoke more softly, but now the voice seemed to echo within Imoen's skull, "Go ahead and satisfy your curiosity… it's a weakness of humans you see, that desire to know everything even when that knowledge might destroy them. But you can't resist it can you? The call of the unknown… oh, and I think you want to drop that knife as well…"

Imoen watched her own arm rise and drop the knife she'd been edging around the room for. And yet the Soothsayer wasn't controlling her… not exactly. It was hard to describe the sensation. She was aware of everything going on, and yet she couldn't not do what the Soothsayer asked… it was suddenly like a very bad dream.

"Open the chest," The Soothsayer commanded.

"With what?" The red head at least seemed to have complete control of mouth anyway. "There's no key and I left my lockpicks in my room. So unless you've got a hairpin under there somewhere I guess the chest is staying shut."

"Oh dear… I hadn't thought of that. If only you had a spare set of picks on you… like in the sole of your boot…"

"Ah… guess I forgot about those…" she immediately removed her own boots. "You know, the others are going to hunt you down and kill you for this."

"Once I have what I've come for I'll have nothing to fear from anyone."

"Don't wanna hurt your pride or anything, but you just wouldn't believe how many people I've heard say that, only to end up playing bowls with the other skulls in hell…"

The Soothsayer didn't respond. In truth they'd both grown pretty tired of the conversation and Imoen was desperately trying to find a way to stop her self. There was just a teeny weeny part of herself that wanted the chest to be opened and to see what was inside, and right now that part was the one sending all the signals to her hands and fingers as they set to work on the lock, and all she could do was watch and count away the seconds she had left. And then it came, that dreadful click as the last part tumbled into place… normally she would punch the air at that point and proclaim 'gotchya', but tonight it was the tolling of a bell. All she had to do now was lift the lid…

"You know, I have only one regret," she sighed, "And that's not telling Edwin what an ass he is before I died. And I never finished reading… anything really. I never had a very long attention span… and that's two regrets isn't it? Well actually there are three… maybe four… can I start again?"

"No more time," The Soothsayer said. As Imoen slowly lifted the lid it seemed 'can I start again' were set to be her last words, making it sound like life was just one big game which she now realised it wasn't.

And then it hit her… not realisation, but a black gas leapt from the chest and enveloped her. She fell on her back as she felt it penetrating into every pore in her body, paralyzing and then slowly spreading. She couldn't cry out, but she felt the most intense pain she had ever experienced as the gas got into each organ.

In the mean time, the Soothsayer glided around the now open chest and took out the one other object it contained, a white sphere which then split open. The light it emitted was absorbed into the shadowy cowl.

"Exactly as was written in the scroll," the Soothsayer chuckled, "The last is first and the first is last… and now at last, immortality…" the light faded and the sphere was dropped, shattering against the stone floor like fine china. But it had served it's purpose.

"I'll be going now then," the Soothsayer looked down on the paralyzed red head. "And then your friends will be able to get back in… regretfully they will find that there is no cure or antidote for the venom. I imagine you'll be dead by dawn. Good luck all the same," and then the Soothsayer vanished.

>

Edwin was about to throw a fireball at the door… an act of desperation they all knew, and there was a high risk of anyone on the other side being caught in the blast. But they had found no other of getting the door open and they had to get to open. Then, just as the wizard started to chant, the door opened of its own accord. No one wasted any time and rushed inside with their weapons drawn… but it was too late.

"She's still alive… b-but just barely," Tarant heard Aerie say. She and Jaheira were knelt beside Imoen running through every healing spell they knew. He watched silently, he's eyes fixed on the motionless form of his sister, every single muscle in his body tensed. He tried to repress it, to fight it, but he could feel it coming and it was growing stronger by the second…

"S-she's infected with something," the Avariel spoke again.

"Poison?" Jaheira asked.

"No… n-not exactly. It's more like a parasite, b-but it's everywhere. We can slow it down…but it's t-too aggressive to stop completely…"

"Nalia! Bring every scroll and healing potion you can!"

"Oh… o-of course," the noblewoman hurried to obey the druid… but the desperate look in Aerie's eyes said it all. All they could do was delay the inevitable. And so he made a decision.

Perhaps he should be there in her last moments, but he couldn't bear it. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, but it did. He had failed her… and now he could feel it rising, screaming in his skull and he was no longer strong enough to silence it. So, while the others tried to prolong Imoen's life a few more minutes, he left. By the time he was riding out of the courtyard through the screaming had become a roar… the son of Bhaal was very angry.

"Where is Tarant?" Nalia asked when she returned with a sack full of every healing item she could find.

"I do not know," Jaheira admitted, apparently only just noticing his absence. But the inclination of her voice made it clear that she was far more concerned with other matters right now.

"I've heard of a creature like this," Edwin said after a brief examination inside the chest, "There is no cure… no way to remove it from her. She's paralysed but she'll be in complete agony… you should just let her die."

"He… he may be right," Aerie sniffed and clenched her fist tightly. It was as if Imoen's pain were her pain also. "A-all we're doing is making her suffer longer…"

"Listen to me child," Jaheira reached out and held the Avariel's shoulders, "Focus on my voice… I know you are upset and angry, but we need you to think! Imoen needs you. There has to be some way to save her!"

"She's done for," Edwin insisted, "Trust me, a very high ranking Red Wizard was once infected by one of these and he died. Now, if the greatest minds in the world could not find a way to beat this thing I would hardly hold out hope that the Little Witch of the Feeding Buckets is going to."

"Ignore the fool," Jaheira hissed. She had no reason to disbelieve Edwin, and most magic was largely a mystery to her. But, she also knew that the young Avariel she travelled with had certain qualities lacking in most wizards. They spent their lives poring over ancient texts in order to become more powerful, but true imagination and innovation seemed very rare. Aerie on the other hand had spent years locked away with nothing but her imagination. One day perhaps, she may equal or even surpass Elminster himself. Aerie had that potential anyway, but she needed to focus.

And she did… she looked up, focusing on the druids eyes as well as her voice. Jaheira could almost see pages of text scrolling behind Aerie's eyes as the Avariel searched for a solution. And then they stopped and the elf's eyes became a little brighter.

"I… I have an idea," she said.

"It won't work… whatever it is," Edwin muttered.

"Another word from you and I will cut out your tongue!" The druid warned.

Aerie knelt down in the middle of the cellar, taking some chalk from her pouch and drawing a large circle around her self. When she had done that she started to write inside the circle. A number of runes, only a few of which Jaheira recognised as being elven. Even Edwin watched, his eyes widening as he slowly put together what Aerie was attempting. Then he characteristically snorted.

"Not bad… but she will never pull it off," he muttered quietly, hoping that Jaheira wouldn't hear.

"I'll need a container," Aerie said, "Any old glass bottle will do, but it needs to be empty."

Fortunately with this being a wine cellar there was no shortage of bottles. Jaheira picked one at random using a dagger to pry out the cork.

"Hang on… that's a very rare vint…" Nalia started but was too late anyway. The bottle was open and Jaheira was pouring the contents onto the floor. "Doesn't matter."

"Such a senseless waste," Edwin shook his head.

"Place Imoen in the centre of the circle, and stand the bottle next to her," Aerie finished her writing.

When everything was moved into place, the Avariel bowed her head and closed her. The elf's arms moved outwards and upwards in a slow circular motion as she began to chant the words to a spell she'd invented a few moments ago. The circle began to glow as Aerie channelled more and more power into it, until at last it exploded in a flash of light. Everyone held their breath, until at last, Imoen, with a grin on her face, opened her eyes looked at the Avariel and said:

"Meow?"

"I don't understand," Nalia said, "Why did you turn her into cat?"

"The parasite had invaded every part of her body," Edwin stepped in immediately to explain everything, "Reordering all of her matter was the only way to possibly separate the two… still, it was a stroke of pure luck that it worked."

"I do not think it was luck," Jaheira bowed her head to the Avariel respectfully, who answered in kind. She then picked up the bottle. The gaseous parasite, whatever it was, was in there held back by a magical barrier. The druid decided to put the cork back in anyway, just in case.

"I'm so sorry," Aerie said to Imoen who was glaring at her, angrily twitching her whiskers. "I-it was just the first thing I thought of…" Cat Imoen glanced around at her self, and then started to run away from her own tail. "I really am sorry…"

"I thought of that as well of course," Edwin crossed his arms and sulked, "but really, it was a million to one chance. She was far more likely to end up a steaming pink blob…"

"Sir," Aerie smiled amiably, "It's just… I-I require your help, sir…"

"Really? Well, naturally you do, but… what for?"

"Well… t-there wasn't much time and… transformations are very easy, really. I just… I'm not sure how to turn her back…"

The cat hissed and pounced on Aerie.

>

Several hours had passed, as the Soothsayer awoke to a new and everlasting life. It had been a busy night, so after teleporting back to the lair the Soothsayer went to the bathroom (seat up, in case anyone still cared) and then laid down for a few hours sleep.

Imoen was probably dead by now, he mused to himself. It was a shame really… nice girl and not altogether unattractive either. But, all things end eventually… well, most things. Anyway, life was all about survival of the fittest. He had always been the cleverest and best so why should he ever have to die? Well, now he didn't. No weapon could ever harm him, he was never going to grow old and he would never die. He had earnt this, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.

He yawned and sat up. He had taken down the hood and wiped the sweat off his bald head… strange, it was getting very hot in here… and something stranger he noticed… someone had gone through his sack, reading through all his research. They hadn't even bothered to place the parchments back where they were…

The Soothsayer leapt to his feet and ran from the small cave that served as his quarters into the main cavern. Whoever was in here, they had also fired up the furnace a little while ago. Already a large quantity of the dwarven iron – mithril – had been reduced to a liquid state.

The Soothsayer's first instinct was to enter the room with caution… but then, even if they had tracked him down here, what could they do? He was immortal damnit!

"Who's there?!" He called out boldly. No answer… other than the furnace being active there was no sign of anyone else in the cavern. They had to be there though, lurking in the shadows like the miscreants they were. "Fools…"

And then someone ran into the Soothsayer, delivering a blow which lifted him off his feet crashing back down several feet away. The coin and his other items of power came free from his rag robes and clattered to the ground around. The Soothsayer reached out for one of them, only for a leather boot to come crashing down on his fingers grinding the bones. The assailant took little time to relish the Soothsayer's cries of agony… they almost immediately took hold of his robes and flung him again across the room.

The Soothsayer just had time to get his feet when his attacker had traversed the distance between them, drawn his sword and immediately plunged it through the Soothsayers heart. He gasped… and then he started to laugh.

"Save your anger, Tarant. You're just wasting your energy," he said as he pulled the sword back out and flung it aside. The gap where it had entered his chest immediately closed. Even his hand was back to being as good as knew. "You cannot kill me… not now."

"No," the half elf glared at him, his eyes more intense than the heat of the furnace, "But, you will wish for death. It would have been merciful."

"Grieving the loss of your dear little sister are you? I always knew the whole bad boy attitude was just a front. Tell me, what exactly is it you think you can do to me?"

"You mean, you can't see?" Tarant grinned wickedly. His hand snapped out and clasped the Soothsayers throat, then he started to drag the bald man across the cavern, finally swinging the Soothsayer around and dumping him an open metal casket.

"You told people you could see the future," Tarant explained, "And now you will. You'll get to see everything happen… but, you'll never be able to act, never even be able to speak to anyone."

The Soothsayer looked up and noticed the semi-circular gap at the top of the casket, with a corresponding one on the side that was open… and then he began to understand…

"N-no wait… please, I beg you!" But the Soothsayer's pleas fell on deaf ears. Tarant's eyes as he sealed the casket shut… those were no longer the eyes of a man, but those of a vengeful god.

Tarant walked away to a set of levers and dials. He found a wheel and started to turn it. As he did so, a massive cauldron started to tip slightly and then to pour the liquid metal into the casket. He stood there and listened to the Soothsayers final, gurgling screams…

This was what he was. He was never meant to live a normal life as man. He was chaos and destruction and death. And Imoen and Aerie and the others… he wasn't afraid of what others might do to them because of who he was, but of what he might do to them or because of them.

>

The sun had risen, although no one had seen it rising. Mist covered the keep and the surrounding land for miles when Tarant's horse trotted back into the courtyard. The guards immediately summoned the others when they'd heard him approach and they were all there waiting for him. All of them, including Imoen…

"I'm okay!" The red head beamed and gave a little twirl. "I mean, I do have a craving for fish, and one of Nalia's dogs chased me up a wall, but apart from that I'm all cured and back to normal."

"All thanks to me I might add," Edwin said, "Not that my contributions ever seem to be noticed around here…"

"Aren't you happy?"

Tarant stared down at the warm face of his sister, who was grinning inanely as usual. Change was a part of living he'd said… but he supposed he just wasn't ready for some things to change.

"Happy?" He said as he dismounted, "Not really… I was looking forward to some quiet."

"Awww… you were missing me already," The red head insisted.

"I miss having the measles more than I would ever miss you."

"That hurts," Immy sighed, "But, since I know you don't really mean it, how about a hug?"

"You just escaped death, and already you're inviting it back?"

Imoen decided to answer with a sign, putting her thumb under nose, wriggling her fingers and then sticking her tongue out.

"What about the Soothsayer?" Jaheira asked.

"The Soothsayer?" Tarant said. "Well, he got everything he had earnt."

>

A ten day later, and Nalia was in the keep by herself. Well, all the staff were still there, but Tarant and the party had all left to continue their adventures. She was sorry to see them go really… things were certainly never boring when they were around. And now she had to return to balancing finances, signing documents and overseeing all the day to day goings on in her lands…

Imoen and Aerie had asked if she would like to go with them, at least for a little while. But, she had too many responsibilities now. She couldn't go gallivanting all over the place anymore… besides, exciting though it was, she had found she was far better suited to managing things from here.

That morning it was reported to her that several travellers had spotted a statue left by the side of the road north of the castle, and that afternoon she decided to go take a look at it.

It turned out not to be the dwarves best work really… rather rough around the edges. And yet the pose of a man kneeling and screaming, fists raised in desperation, was incredibly lifelike.

And the eyes as well… somehow they seemed to always be watching.