A/N: Life has been a bit busy (work, ill, family!) hence the lack of updates, and with National Novel Writing Month coming up, it might be December before I'm back to full speed -- but should I fail miserably at writing something original, I'll be back here sooner ;)

Thanks to everyone reviewing, especially the anonymous people who I can't reply to individually :( I'm really glad so many people find this so interesting :) Only a short chapter this time to get back into the swing of things, but should pick up pretty soon again:)


General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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Musings

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Xzar gazed at the sky and seemed to notice it for the first time in an eternity. He blinked slowly; a slight frown creasing his face, then lowered his gaze to meet the eyes of his halfling companion. Montaron, however, wasn't looking at him -- his attention was caught somewhere else; somewhere in the distance. His look was glazed, and Xzar had an uncomfortable moment as he realised their roles had been switched.

It didn't last though. The fighter snapped out of whatever trance he was under, glaring at the necromancer venomously as Xzar found himself drifting back into his hazy existence.

"Oh, Monty, what will we do today?" he found himself asking deliriously. Thoughts and ideas were cascading through his head, but none would stop long enough for him to get any focus on them. He began to sway, murmuring under his breath as his companion told him to stop talking and follow. As usual, he did.

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Montaron frowned as he walked. Was it not bad enough that he'd been left with the mage for so long that he was permanently in a bad mood? Now he'd started to drift off; have lapses in his concentration that he knew would only end up getting him killed -- he couldn't afford that. It had to be an effect of keeping Xzar's company, there was no other explanation. The halfling feared he was inheriting the insanity shown on a daily basis by the human and he cursed under his breath.

He'd thought life couldn't get any worse, but it seemed determined to prove him wrong.

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In the darkness of the crypts under the Athkatla graveyard, two figures stood side by side; one man, one woman, neither alive. Both were cloaked in clothes as dark as the shadows that surrounded them, as they stood to the side of the remains of their siblings; watching as golems performed the cleaning operation of removing their lifeless, staked forms.

The girl giggled delightedly as she snapped out from her spell and the man looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He was taller, though not by much, and stronger looking -- heavily muscled arms stretched the material of his shirt. She returned his gaze with her own look of amusement, leaning over to him as she whispered.

"The Mistress will be pleased we are undertaking these duties for her."

The man didn't seem to be convinced. "I'm not sure, Hareishan," he said doubtfully. "What if Mistress Bodhi has no plans to return here? She has gone with her brother-"

"Enough!" Hareishan's hiss was enough to silence her companion, but the golems ignored her, continuing with their clearing and repairing work. "She shall return, Parisa; she will want to be with her brothers and sisters, and our lair here is strong. It was breached once before, but we know better than to let that happen again."

The man's eyes glowed red as he smiled. "Yes," he agreed, "yes, we do. Do you think they will look for her here?"

Hareishan smiled cruelly. "Mistress advised us to be prepared to fight until the end -- until the foolish mortal's end. We must prepare here, ensure enough of us survive to begin enticing others to join us once more. When they come to get the Mistress, they will face more power than they've ever imagined, and they will fall."

"Many have been destroyed," noted Parisa, watching as one of their servant golems carried away a carrion-ridden coffin. "It will take time to nurture the power we have in others."

Hareishan nodded softly. "We need not all be powerful. We have time to adopt fledglings of our own and various other mindless slaves to weaken them before they reach us."

Parisa turned back to the woman with a thoughtful expression. "You have already begun working upon a fledgling, haven't you? That is why you drift off so often -- it is not communion with the Mistress, but your own charm incantations."

Hareishan smiled a toothy smile. "He is perfect," she purred. "Smaller than I'd have liked, but I know his capabilities. A vicious fighter, has no love even for the one he travels with. He will be perfect as my... companion."

The man looked slightly taken aback for a moment. "But... Mistress Hareishan," he mumbled, almost humbly. "Have I not served you well?"

She snorted. "You have been adequate," she shrugged, "but you are almost as powerful as I am, now, and it is time I trained a new apprentice. Perhaps you should do likewise."

Parisa seemed to slip into a thoughtful silence as he nodded, their gazes both returning to the ongoing work happening around them. Yes, perhaps I should.

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Coran leaned on the parapet that ran along the battlements and looked at his land. His life had taken so many surprising twists that he was surprised he still had the capability to be surprised, but he did. He let out a sigh that would have managed to rival any of Xan's more mournful attempts and watched as the sun slowly began to settle behind the horizon.

They'd been back at the De Arnise Keep for a few days. Coran had decided to leave the city after a sleepless night -- he'd been awake trying to reach out to Maiyn, desperately trying to reclaim their link. But each time he'd been met with the same blank emptiness, a harsh reminder of the reality of his position.

His companions had been worried about him -- well, Nalia and Valygar had. The wizard, Edwin, was still in their group, but seemed to be happy to distance himself from their immediate company whenever possible. After discovering the library, he'd holed himself up with some books and they'd only caught fleeting glimpses of him in the corridors as he went to and from his room. Even his meals were delivered to the study.

Earlier that day he'd sat with the ranger and his young ward and explained to them, as well as he could, what had happened. He'd told them about the link he suspected he had, the way he'd felt emotions and feelings coming from his former companion. He described how he'd felt her intimacy with another, then how there had been more pain -- almost as bad as before -- and then nothing. That his bond was gone; the only thing that he had with her had been taken away.

He was truly apart from them now. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever be reunited with them, and even if so -- would it be for any length of time. Or would it merely be for the final goodbye he promised himself he deserved.

The sun almost fully disappeared, leaving an eerie red glow across the cloudy sky. It looked like blood and it did nothing but remind him of Maiyn. With a heavy heart he left his place and returned back inside -- having nothing to do was not helping him at all. They would return to Athkatla -- they had to. He needed to do something to occupy himself while he waited.

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Edwin found his concentration wavering and he threw the book aside in disgust. Simian material, he thought snidely, scowling as he looked around for anything in this forsaken place that could challenge his intellect.

He didn't bother asking himself what he was doing there, because he already knew. Everything he'd done so far had been a part of the larger plan and it had worked -- not always how he'd expected it to, but it had worked, and that was all that mattered. Getting into the Shadow Thieves had proven to be ridiculously easy after he'd set fire to four of them when they tried to rob his room at the Seas' Bounty. As expected, a polite request was made the following day to him, urging him to attend to an appointment with Mae'Var, and the rogue had offered him the position of right hand man. Edwin had placed several conditions on the post before accepting it.

Then he'd waited. And as he'd been told would happen, the Shadow Thieves were sent into the dungeon beneath the Promenade. Edwin had to congratulate himself on choosing the two young boys he'd approached -- both were easily intimidated but ruthless in their profession.

"You will find the Rashemeni bitch and kill her, do I make myself clear?"

They'd nodded fearfully, having listened intently as he described her. When they'd emerged from the dungeon they'd met the man, Irenicus, and one had been killed by his display of magic. Edwin sneered slightly -- the pathetic simian would have nothing on the magnificent Edwin Odesseiron. The other boy had possessed enough sense to flee from the danger, reporting immediately to the mage -- even above the duty he had to Aran. The witch was dead, he'd said, but not to their hands. She had been killed long before they even got into the compound.

It lessened his satisfaction somewhat, but it still managed to be bearable. The first objective was achieved, and the interfering barbarian hedge wizard was safely out of the way. The target lived, but the idiot berserker was still serving alongside her, and Edwin could not risk being recognised by him. The encounter they'd had in Cormyr had proven to have an interesting side effect on the man's mental health, but the mage couldn't be sure he'd have forgotten the incident. The meeting in Baldur's Gate, however, seemed to have escaped the mind of the current elf he allowed to lead.

He had not been sure if working with Coran was a good idea -- after all, he'd tried to fireball the entire party outside Sorcerous Sundries, but only succeeded in singing a few of the adventurers and killing several of the locals. The Flaming Fist were already unjustly in search of him, and he'd made his escape then and there, noting that patience was a virtue. It was not something he possessed in abundance, however.

But the dim-witted fighter elf hadn't even realised who he was, and it was convenient to offer his services to their group for a while. Not only were they sorely lacking a powerful mage -- the girl did try, but she was awful -- but every day, theoretically, brought him a step closer to his intended goal. Then, if all went well, he could leave these simians behind and take his prize back home with him. His family would be proud, and what an asset it would be for the Thayvian Empire.

A Child of Bhaal working for them -- working for him. It wouldn't be easy, but there were ways and means. He'd gotten this far, after all; his target was a fairly unintelligent specimen -- a ranger at that. Not exactly the prime material they'd hoped for, but all messages and texts seemed to point at her. She was the One. And she would work for Thay... whether she liked it or not.

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Valygar stalked along the forest floor under the leafy canopy overhead. Darkness was settling around him but he felt at perfect ease -- the formidable stone walls of the keep were still visible through the trees as he skirted around its perimeter seeking to clear his head from the thoughts that were amassing.

He'd listened as Coran spoke earlier that day, but nothing had really surprised him. He'd suspected there had been something between him and his former companion that lingered, though he had been slightly surprised to learn it was a weak bond. When the elf described its loss his heart went out in sympathy. He understood the feeling of losing someone dear to you only too well.

But his mind was unable to stay on the matter. He was plagued by the visions of Hervo, lying dead in his home. His faithful servant and friend, the closest thing to family he'd had remaining after... after the loss of his parents. Striking them down with his own hands had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do -- even harder than parting with Suna. Hervo had been there for him, comforting him with words and logic. He'd aided in the burial, spent nights awake discussing memories with the ranger into the early hours. He'd been there.

And now he was gone -- murdered in cold blood by someone who had been out to hunt his master. Valygar knew who was behind it. As soon as he'd seen the corpse, the wounds that were clearly made by a small sword... Korgan, the dwarf they'd killed outside his cabin, had clearly been wielding an axe. But the two that were with him... the halfling. He'd wielded a sword. He'd murdered Hervo -- Valygar was sure of it. And he would have vengeance.

Then there was Aerie. The poor, innocent avariel had been brutally murdered after being falsely lured from the safety of her companions. He remembered the pause, then the look the halfling had given her before they left them at Umar Hills. It had been a look full of hate, a look with a promise -- a promise of death. Her body was in worse condition that Hervo's had been, by far, when she was found. But again... it looked as if the stab wounds had been made by a small blade. And Aerie had tried to cast a spell of holding upon the halfling and his companion when tempers began to flare before the encounter with the Shadow Dragon...

The stalker stopped and clenched his teeth tightly. He knew he couldn't prove it was them, but in his heart he was certain of it. The necromancer was just as bad as the halfling, dealing in unnatural substances and perverse magic. They had taken his most trusted and loyal friend, and brutally killed a young girl who was only just blossoming into a confident young woman. The anger and rage that coursed through Valygar Corthala's veins was ferocious indeed, and it was several long minutes before he'd composed himself well enough to return to the keep.

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Nalia stretched lazily as she sat before the fire, staring into its flickering flames as she daydreamed. She was feeling melancholy and wistful, but she'd expected no less. Her concern over Coran's behaviour had been abated by the discussion they'd had earlier, but although it left her less worried about him, it further reminded her how unattainable he truly was.

This made her sad, but she wasn't entirely sure why.

She liked him well enough -- he was charming, generally polite, occasionally funny. He'd been protective about her, especially when Isaea had attempted to threaten her, and he was... well, he was certainly individual in appearance. She didn't think she'd ever spent this much time in the company of an elf, but she was enjoying it. He was capable of appearing perfectly laid-back even when rushing to be somewhere. He was helping her improve in her roguish skills, and just having him close to her side as he assisted with a complex trap was enough to make her heart flutter.

She frowned. It was stupid. It was a silly, worthless crush -- if only because it was so futile. He was obsessed by finding his former companions, and in their midst was the woman he described as having 'changed his life' -- strong words indeed. Nalia had more than a slight interest in meeting this person, seeing for herself what it was that drew him so purposefully. After all, by meeting her, Nalia would know what to aspire to be more like in order to...

No! She stopped that train of thought instantly and shook her head, annoyed at herself. She had no intention of competing with someone she didn't know and hadn't met, and no intention of ever trying to win Coran to be with her. They were not in the least bit compatible, in the long term -- he was hardly the type a woman of her standing could marry, after all, and they had developed a close friendship that she didn't want to risk.

She sighed softly. She'd do whatever she could to help him find the ones he wanted to be with, even if it seemed that it would mark the end of her journeys with him. He'd probably give up the keep to go off wherever they were destined, and it would fall quickly enough to the Roenalls without a defence. She'd have the choice of either staying and allowing the bratty Isaea to marry her, or leaving and making her own way in the world -- she doubted there'd be a place in an already established group for someone as limited in skills as she was.

But despite all this, she would help him. Because that's what friends did for each other, wasn't it?