Dreams and Portents

The sun had long since set, but Kyner remained sleepless. He sat beside Ciara, who lay in a modestly-sized bed, swathed in blankets. A candle burned on the night stand, illuminating her pale face while she slept, as she had since felling the giant.

And how did she do that? Kyner wondered. He feared that it had something to do with her birth father. Kyner had brought the unconscious girl to the healers, but they found nothing to heal. The dwarves had allowed Kyner to take her to a room in one of the towers of Settlestone. Space was hardly at a premium here, there were far more rooms in Settlestone than there were people to occupy them. The accommodations were sparse, but more than acceptable. At least it's clean, more than I can say of some places I have stayed.

Kyner's gaze strayed to the far corner of the room, where he had placed his and Ciara's armors. The dwarves said they would allow Ciara to keep the suit as a gift for slaying Hrungnir, although they made no secret that they were wary of the means she had used to do so.

There was a knock on the door. "Enter," said Kyner.

The door opened and a cloaked figure stepped through. A flicker of the candlelight allowed Kyner to see beneath the figure's hood.

Kyner came to his feet, "It is good to see you again, Selinde." After Kyner crossed the short distance, he embraced the elven woman.

Selinde drew back, removed a sword and baldric from her back, "A dwarf named Kovar wanted me to make sure you got this," she said, and handed the great sword to Kyner. "He said he found it near the bridge while he was clearing out the remaining orcs after the battle."

Kyner partially unsheathed the sword, it was Issgar, "It is good to know he is still alive. I will have to thank him before we leave."

"How is she?" asked Selinde, peering over Kyner's shoulder to Ciara.

"I don't know," Kyner admitted, turning around to look at Ciara, "the healers say there is nothing wrong with her." Kyner paused. "Did you hear about what happened?"

Selinde nodded.

There was silence for a moment. Kyner spoke, "I'm forgetting my manners, please sit down." Kyner insisted that Selinde sit in the room's only chair and sat down on the edge of the bed himself.

"I understand that you are the one who brought the walls of the pass down on the orcs," said Kyner.

Selinde nodded, half-smiled.

"That may have been the deciding factor of the battle," said Kyner.

"It was an action with mixed consequences," said Selinde, "right now, the people here are happy. But destroying the pass will make trade with the far north difficult."

"You underestimate dwarven engineering," said Kyner, "they'll find a way to get the pass functioning again, I guarantee it. You did well today, Selinde. No one could have asked you for anything more. Your father would be proud."

Selinde nodded, smiled wanly. "You should get some rest," she advised.

"I couldn't sleep if I wanted to," Kyner replied, looking back to Ciara, "she's been terribly still but at least she's breathing evenly now."

Ciara found herself in a crowd, pressed on all sides. About her moved all kinds of people: humans, elves, half-elves, dwarves, gnomes and even half-orcs. They moved ceaselessly, and Ciara was caught in the ebb and flow of their movements.

All of them seem oblivious to one anther, Ciara realized, and to me.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Ciara thought she saw one make eye contact with her. But when she turned saw nothing, only the bustle of people. Then the distinct sound of metal cutting flesh demanded Ciara's attention and she spun around to see a human male fall to the ground, his throat split from one side to the other.

Ciara backed away, scanning all of those around her, looking for a weapon. Despite the murder, no one seemed phased. Ciara thought she saw a flicker of light off a blade and then another fell dead, this time a female dwarf. Then another, and another. Ciara drew her sword.

The crowd was rapidly thinning and soon Ciara saw dark shapes moving among the people, flickering knives in their hands. Seeing one of the shapes, Ciara seized its shoulder and the shade whirled about to face her. The apparition was faceless, save for its keen yellow eyes. Ciara felt those eyes boring into her soul.

Ciara stood among innumerable bodies. Not the field of corpses that appeared to her before, but the bodies of the people in the crowd she had seen only moments ago. Standing in a circle, that Ciara was a part of, were eleven others.

A gnome, with oiled hair and an immaculately trimmed goatee clad in fine silks.

A male half-orc with green skin who wore bulky plate mail.

A man, dark skinned and clad in orange and blue robes.

A younger man, with light brown hair clad in plate mail with a hammer hanging from his belt.

A young, eager-looking woman clad in elven chain mail with chestnut hair.

A drow female, arrogant and proud, clad in elaborate chain mail.

A woman with raven-black hair clad in dark leathers.

A giant, nearly as tall as the one at the Battle of Mithral hall.

Another half-orc, blue skinned with a great sword across his back.

A tall figure with glowing yellow eyes, its armor adorned with spikes and blades.

A cloaked man, his bony face barely visible beneath his cowl.

With a terrible snapping noise, the spines of the bodies in the middle of the circle tore out from their resident corpses. Ciara cringed as she watched the spines twist around one another and form a chair.

The Throne of Bhaal, and these must be other children of Bhaal, thought Ciara, looking at the others who stood about the gruesome throne.

Ciara looked again at those standing in the circle. Finally her gaze came to rest on the cloaked man. There was something different about him. With a gasp, Ciara recognized him. Not the man but his presence. That same presence she had felt in the distance during the battle.

At Ciara's moment of realization, the cloaked man looked straight at her and, pulling a spear from across his back, stalked toward her. Ciara drew her sword and stood ready. As the man strode forward she could make out his pale skin, tautly stretched across his face beneath the cowl. His hands were almost skeletal, and the shaft of the spear they held was covered with sharp thorns; blood steadily dripped from his hands.

The man lunged forward, swinging the broad head of his spear toward Ciara. The young warrior parried the attack, and found herself staring into the eyes of her adversary, they were cold and empty.

Ciara woke with a start and Kyner was immediately by her side. She breathed in rapid, panicked breaths as Kyner held her, reassuring her with quiet words. Even if Ciara was too busy trying to get her bearings to understand what her guardian was saying, his voice calmed her.

"What happened?" Ciara asked, "I was standing in the street–"

"The battle's over," said Kyner, "the orcish officers were unable to keep control of their thralls once you killed Hrungnir." Then Ciara remembered, the sword that she had conjured with the aid of the thousand voices, who she could only assume were the personification of Bhaal's essence within her. After that she could only recall the memory of pain, and then nothing. "Right now we're in an apartment in Settlestone."

Ciara nodded, and seemed to have caught her breath.

Kyner drew back, looked Ciara in the eye, "I have to know, Ciara, how did you kill the frost giant?"

Ciara fell back onto the bed. Looked out the only window in the room. The day looked to be well under way.

"I don't know exactly. But I know that Bhaal's taint was involved."

"I'm not going to lie to you," said the warrior, "that display frightened me. You've been unconscious for almost a whole day. Please, never do anything like that unless you absolutely have to."

"I won't," Ciara replied, "it's no more pleasant for me than it is you."

"That's not the first time you've done something like that?" asked Kyner.

"No. I've used the taint three other times. The first time was in Aeterveris, I was poisoned and one of the dominated elves was about to kill me. I used the taint to . . . to make him kill himself. All the other times were today. When a troll was about to kill me, I made it run back and attack the orcs who were behind it. And I made one ettin attack another."

Kyner's eyes grew wider with each telling, "And each time you used the taint you felt ill?"

Ciara nodded, "Either nauseous, tired or both."

The old warrior's brow was furrowed, the maze of lines appearing on his forehead as happened whenever he was worried, "I don't know what to say," Kyner admitted. "Would that Gorion were here, perhaps he could make sense of it. I do not feel comfortable asking a priest or wizard here, they are already suspicious of us." Kyner faced Ciara, his expression earnest, "Ciara, until we know more do not try to cast any of those spells again."

"I only used them when I thought it was necessary," said Ciara, "in order to save my life and the lives of others."

Kyner nodded uneasily, "If the circumstances are grave, then perhaps it is right. Still, you must be able to restrain yourself." Kyner forced a smile, "Now, I do have some good news, for defeating Hrungnir, the people of Mithral are honoring you as a hero. King Gandalug is holding a feast in Mithral Hall, and he asked me to have you sit at his right hand, provided you were conscious."

A thought suddenly occurred to Ciara, "Selinde, is she–"

"Selinde is well," said Kyner, "and she is also among the heroes of the battle. As it turns out, she is among those responsible for bringing the pass down on the orcs. The banquet won't be until later tonight so, if you feel up to it, we can go to the mess hall and get something to eat now."

It only took the suggestion to make Ciara realize how famished she was and the young woman was quickly on her feet.