A/N: Some of this surprised even me :/ My characters don't listen to me any more:(


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

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Wavering Resolve

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Faraji darted through the crowds in the marketplace as he sought out his target. Since taking up Sir Ajantis' offer of employment he'd found himself kept busy with various tasks throughout the day and he had no time to get into trouble. It was balanced out though, however, by a roaring fire in the kitchen every evening as Aime served him a lavish meal that fed his growing form suitably, and no longer did he have to find an empty abandoned house to shelter from the rain, as his small room with its proper bed and real mattress was clean and fresh for him every night.

He'd fallen on his feet, sure enough, and now he wanted to show that he was worth the chance.

It took him no time at all to find the man; having initially tried the obvious places -- his home, the tavern he was staying in -- Faraji had taken a wander towards the docks, and could spy Valygar at the far side of one of the wharfs, talking to another man. The boy darted to him, flashing a wide smile as he handed over the second parchment of the day to the surprised looking stalker.

"How did you know where to find me?" the ranger asked.

"Just had a hunch," shrugged Faraji proudly, gleefully accepting the coin he was offered, and tipping his non-existent cap as he dashed off back to Ajantis' estate.

Valygar watched him run away and chuckled. "A wily scamp," he noted, "but I think he'll turn out to be a good lad."

His friend smiled. "Aye," agreed Arton, leaning on the railings as the sea breeze whipped past his face. "It's good that he found you and your friends, though I'm surprised you didn't offer him a job yourself..."

Valygar tried not to smile. "Subtle, my friend," he noted, slowly unfolding the parchment in his hands. "But I think you've realised, by now, that I have no intention to stay in the city."

"It's a shame," nodded the older man with a sigh. "After all the business with the Sphere cleared up, I believed you'd come back, and life would go on as normal."

Valygar paused in his actions and gazed out to the sea. "So did I," he said wistfully. "But nothing is the same, any more. Hervo has gone, and the people I once believed were my friends displayed their true colours when the Cowled ones showed an interest in me."

"Not all your friends," Arton corrected.

Valygar nodded in agreement. "Not all of them, you're right -- but the ones I am expected to socialise with and be polite to. I have no intention of staying here to have sycophantic men and women fawning over me as they try to get tales of 'adventure' at their fat-ridden feasts."

There was a silence before Arton spoke. "You've changed."

"I have," the ranger agreed quietly. "I have focus now -- there's so much I don't understand, so much I need to find out -- to figure out."

"Suna?"

"No." Valygar's reply was sharp. "The past is... best left untouched. There is a future, though, and I need to concentrate on that. I didn't believe I could find anyone I'd call 'friend' when I left for Imnesvale, but since then I've realised that I was wrong." He turned to look at the former seaman and smiled wryly. "But, like my old friends, I fear I won't be walking by their sides for much longer. Duty calls, and I will go -- it is as it should be."

"You sound like your father," remarked the older man softly, causing Valygar to bow his head. "He was a good man -- your mother was a good woman, despite... despite what happened. What happened was tragic, but you will carry your good family name on."

Valygar sighed. "Only while I live," he murmured, then shook his head and finished opening the letter from Ajantis. "The paladin has a plan; I need to go and ensure my companions are informed."

Arton nodded and stood up, patting Valygar on the shoulder. "Come back and see me, if you have time," he said. "I've missed having you around."

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Coran picked up the paper that was slipped under his door and opened it while Nalia looked on, a bemused expression on her face.

"I'm sure we don't have to be quite this secretive," she remarked dryly, but Coran just grinned over to her.

"Valygar disagrees," he noted. "He's said that you should stay here, and he'll take your room until we're done with Anarg and his men."

Nalia raised an eyebrow. "He... give me that!" She stood up and snatched the parchment from the elf's hand, ignoring his protests. Her eyes scanned over the neat writing of the ranger and she frowned. "I suppose it makes sense," she said, holding the note out for Coran to take back. Her tone suggested she disagreed quietly.

"You sound disappointed," he chuckled as he finished reading the last of the instructions. When he was finished he sighed. "We have a plan, it seems. Ajantis has warned the senior members of the Order what we intend to do, and they will deliberately make sure that the side entrance to the building is unguarded for a short while tomorrow afternoon, allowing us to slip inside and retrieve the cup. Naturally, if any paladins spot us, they'll likely try and chase us down, so we will still have to be careful."

Nalia nodded. "Do you think we can do it?"

"We can try," he shrugged. "If all else fails, we'll just have to make sure we run towards the Prelate, and he can explain what we're up to!"

She giggled slightly, covering her mouth with her hand. "What do we do until then?" she asked.

"What would you like to do? We cannot be seen with Valygar or Edwin, so our options are limited, but other than that, we could do whatever you want."

Nalia looked out of the window as she thought, then suddenly turned around, squealing slightly with excitement. "We could go for something to eat -- not the slop that this place jokingly calls stew, but somewhere different, somewhere... better."

Coran smiled. "If that is what my Lady wishes, then that is what my Lady shall have. Where do you propose we visit, since you are by far more local to the city than I am."

She frowned as she thought, and Coran couldn't help but continue to smile at her determined expression. "There's a tavern near the Temple District," she said thoughtfully. "At least if we're spotted near there, they'll assume we're looking into the Order."

Coran nodded. "Well, if you want to lead, we can go there immediately -- I have to admit, that the thought of a proper meal is very tempting!"

They walked through the streets arm-in-arm, talking merrily and laughing softly amongst themselves. Coran wasn't sure if it was all just the act of a young, love-struck couple playing much easier then they'd imagined, or if it was just the ease of a natural and close friendship, with two close allies enjoying each other's company. Whatever it was, the walk to the inn -- which he discovered was named 'The Harfin Draether' after it's long dead founder -- was pleasant indeed, and though the tavern was already busy, some well offered coins managed to secure them a seat by the window where they could stare out to the people passing by as they ate. And ate they did -- large portions of grouse and duck, heaps of boiled greens and lashings of various mustards were put before them, and they happily shared everything.

Around them, gongs rung out and the level of chatter only seemed to rise when they thought it couldn't possibly get any louder. They shared jokes about other patrons passing by, and Coran teased the girl about her choice of establishment, causing her to flush as they dubiously tasted the wine that had been brought to their table. Eventually they decided to leave, after a satisfying meal in a boisterous environment. The quietness of the streets outside suddenly felt eerie, and the sun was already drifting towards its setting as they lazily wandered along the dusty route.

"It's good to see you smile," remarked Coran as Nalia giggled at the memory of the ale they'd tried -- more water than anything else, neither of the thieves had been able to drink more than a mouthful.

She lowered her head shyly, but didn't pull her hand away from his -- it had settled there comfortably as they set off from the tavern, though Coran wasn't sure how they'd ended up like that. He made no effort to fight against it, though, and they walked on in a comfortable silence.

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Edwin sat in the common room of the Seas' Bounty glaring at the notes he'd accumulated regarding the mythical Nether Scrolls he longed to possess. The information he'd gathered so far had cost him a lot -- both in monetary and sanity terms, and it was hard to believe he was so close to his goal. And all he had to work with was a simian mage with obvious deficiencies to his mental faculties and his miniature companion who seemed to barely have mastered Common. It was a depressing thought, but he found he simply couldn't be surprised by anything any more. He was surrounded by cretins, everywhere he looked. Even the mythical chosen Child of Bhaal that his superiors had become so excited about had sounded like a moron from the tales he'd heard, with misplaced morals and an inability to even grasp the simplest of concept.

He sighed heavily, frowning as he read over his scribbled annotations for the fifth time. He had to be prepared -- the mercenaries he'd employed would be sufficient as a limited body shield, but he had to be ready. He needed to be fully prepared for anything, though he had planned the whole thing many months before. He knew where to go -- he knew which tomb to enter from, he knew what passages to take. He suspected he could guess at the creatures they'd face, but the other two would take care of that. He, Edwin Odesseiron, would concentrate on reaching the scroll. That was all that mattered -- the rest would be a piece of cake.

He was so caught up in his musings that he didn't notice Valygar stalking past, heading upstairs. Nor did he notice Coran and Nalia arrive back at the inn. They drifted past, ignoring him as he added some more scribbled notes furiously to the already crammed parchment, and he sighed contentedly when he was done, leaning back in his chair and taking a delicate sip at his wine.

It was all almost ready.

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Coran didn't quite know what to do. They'd taken so long to get back to the Seas' Bounty that it was now fairly late, and they'd agreed to have an early night so they could get prepared early the next morning. Nalia was loitering beside the bed that Valygar had used, fidgeting with the cords of her robes nervously. He coughed slightly and moved past her, heading to the window.

"I will, ah, not turn around until you are... changed."

"Okay."

He heard the rustling of her clothes as she pulled her robes from her frame, then her light footsteps as she moved to the foot of the bed to collect her nightclothes -- Valygar had subtly switched the more necessary personal items around earlier. A creak signalled that she'd clambered into her bed, and the noise of her blankets moving told of her getting comfortable.

"I'm done," she said eventually, smiling shyly to him as he turned around. She'd pulled the beads and braids free from her hair, allowing it to fall around her face in an unruly manner. The candlelight flickered to her side, illuminating her face and highlighting the freckles on her cheeks. Coran stared for several long moments before he managed to pull himself together, hastily looking away and clearing his throat.

"I'll not look," she assured him, leaning back onto her pillow and closing her eyes. He was nearer to her now, able to look down at her relaxed form. She looked different -- softer, gentler than the determined girl who travelled with him on a daily basis. She wasn't a thief to him, now -- she was a woman. A woman he'd kissed earlier, and who had returned his embrace with the same passion as displayed. A passion that wasn't just an act, but something deep down inside that had been yearning to get free. A longing for the pretty young human now lying innocently before him.

Slowly he reached out with his hand, but it faltered just before it made contact. A few memories drifted through his consciousness, but they seemed far away, almost impossible to make out. One figure was clear, though -- Maiyn. The woman he'd loved, the woman who'd left him. The woman who had moved on to someone else and broken the bond that she never knew they'd had. The woman who could be dead...

His hand dropped abruptly, and he turned back to his own bed, quickly removing his armour and preparing to sleep himself. His hands shook as he unbuckled the straps and pulled free his boots, until finally he was behind the protective layer of blankets.

"I'm done too."

Nalia opened her eyes and turned her head to look over to him. She smiled, and his heart seemed to flutter. Once again he was caught in her enchanting eyes and he carefully blew out the candle, wishing her a good night as he tried to push the urges from his mind. He thought back to the year before; to the nights and days he'd spent with his former companions, with Maiyn. But every memory trailed off, and was replaced by more recent images; Nalia's soft, tinkling laugh, the way she shook her head determinedly, the way she returned his kiss that morning...

He drew in his breath sharply, closing his eyes tighter, trying to fight the old but familiar sensation that was creeping across his body. Her voice rang out in the darkness, asking if he was all right, but he didn't answer -- his breath was laboured, and he couldn't speak for fear of his emotions overpowering him. A slight noise caused him to open his eyes, and a shadow moved to the side. Her face appeared above him, worry etched onto it in the pale light from the moon outside. She repeated her question, but still he was unable to answer. Instead he stared at her, then slowly reached up with his hands. She didn't resist as he pulled her close, his mouth hungrily closing around hers, his arms insistently pulling her closer.

Both were too preoccupied to hear the hammering noise coming from Edwin's room.

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Coran opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling above him. He couldn't remember falling asleep, and had no idea what he'd dreamt of. But it took him no time at all to remember the activities that had taken place before that. He tentatively shifted, tilting his head to check if Nalia was still beside him. She wasn't; he caught a vision of her sitting by the window, grooming her hair vigorously with her brush. It shone softly in the light, differing shades of brown mingling together as her strokes swept through each unruly strand. He yawned, unable to stifle it, and stretched his arms out. A trace of guilt lingered over him, but nothing compared to how he expected he should be feeling. He almost felt like his old self again.

"We should get going soon," remarked Nalia casually. She hadn't turned to look at him. "We need to get to the Order's Headquarters in plenty of time to make sure we're ready to get in when the chance arises."

Coran lazily hoisted himself from the bed and padded over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently. She looked round to him, smiling softly as their eyes locked.

"We have a task to do," she said quietly. "Everything else can wait."

He watched as she laid her brush down on the table and purposefully moved over to the spare bed, picking up her cloak and draping it over her shoulders. She was already washed and dressed, the simple band she wore around her head in place, the small backpack she carried with her by the door. She signalled for him to hurry up and he grinned lopsidedly, gathering up his clothing.

"I'll meet you downstairs," she said, fixing the clasp of her cloak firmly closed before moving towards him in a determined manner. Her lips met his, her tongue gently insisting that he allow it passage, but she whipped herself away before his arms could settle on her frame. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she threw a glance over her shoulder to him before disappearing through the door. He watched her go, a faint smile and a glazed expression on his face, and only just managed to get dressed in her absence.

As he pulled on his second boot, a ripple of guilt washed over him and he sighed heavily, letting his head hang wearily as he rubbed his temple. I still love you, Maiyn, he thought to himself. But it seems our future together was not destined to be as permanent as we began to expect.

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Edwin paid little attention to Nalia as she descended from the inn's stairway, obsessed as he was with re-reading his notes once more. He was allowing himself to feel a small bit of excitement and a tiny bit of adrenaline was beginning to course through his veins. The bag sitting next to him had everything he suspected he'd need for the trip, and now all he had to do was wait until the allocated time and go to the crypt. It was going perfectly.

He looked up just in time to see the elf arrive in the common room and saunter over towards the girl. They shared a smile and he frowned slightly. He was quite sure they hadn't looked at each other like that when he was last in their company. He watched closely as the elf's arm casually went over the shoulders of her sitting form, and he bent down to whisper into her ear. She coloured slightly, giggling in that annoying, high-pitched whine that she had, then gave him what Edwin suspected she thought was a coy look. It almost made him vomit.

She stood up, taking his hand as they wove their way through the tables towards the exit. He called out as they passed.

"You two -- when are we to rejoin with the pathetic ranger-monkey?"

They paused, giving him carefully blank stares.

"I'm sorry," said Coran apologetically. "Do we know you?"

"I'm sure we don't," mused Nalia loudly. "I think you've mistaken us for someone else. Good day to you."

Giggling, they rushed away towards the exit as Edwin glared after them. Simians! Everywhere I go, I am surrounded by moronic simpletons! He carefully picked up his papers and bag and stalked over to the bar, ordering himself a large goblet of wine. He had a few hours to pass, and he might as well spend it wisely.

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Montaron was almost disappointed to see the Red Wizard stroll towards them, sauntering with the overconfidence of a village buffoon. He kicked out at Xzar, distracting the green-robed mage from the trellis he was examining just as Edwin drew level with them both.

"I see you managed to arrive on time," he sneered, making Montaron hate him even more. The halfling just spat to the side and scowled. Edwin looked disgusted. "There is no time to waste," the wizard continued. "Let us go and retrieve my treasure."

"Our treasure," Montaron reminded him.

"Yes, yes, our treasure," snapped Edwin, marching along the path between various headstones, and heading to the distant tombs. "(As long as I get the scroll, I couldn't care less what else these monkeys manage to pick up. Assuming they have the intelligence to actually collect anything.)"

Montaron glared darkly at Edwin's back. The mage seemed to think his muttering was unheard by anyone else, when really, it was uttered loud enough to be heard by any fool happening to stand even remotely close to him. He'd thought he had a hard time with Xzar -- the mage was mad, of that there was no doubt, and at times he could be difficult and stubborn -- but Montaron could deal with him. It had taken years of practice, but he was used to it now, and suddenly, it wasn't looking so bad.

The thought of being a guard for the likes of this Red Wizard was enough to make Montaron want to weep. He couldn't imagine lasting a day, without wanting to stick his sword into the gullet of the overblown twit. Thankfully, though, he didn't have to spend a whole day in his company -- just a few hours as they crawled around the lairs of the dead, taking the things that they no longer required.

It'd been a long time since Montaron went tomb-robbing. It used to be a pleasant experience -- plenty of riches, easy for taking, and Xzar was usually quite complacent and quiet on the outings, as long as he got enough components from the remains to take away with him. Occasionally they'd find a body that new enough to still be fairly preserved, and it'd shamble around after them for the next few days as Xzar cackled with glee.

Aye, those were th' days, Montaron thought wistfully.

They drew up behind the wizard as he stopped outside a large building with a bright blue seal that appeared to be the door. Edwin pointed at it.

"You! The thief! Open this door."

Montaron grit his teeth, and moved forward, pulling his lock-pick from his pocket. It only took him a few minutes to weaken the eroded lock, and to his surprise the door swung open easily afterwards -- he'd expected, at the very least, a basic trap, if not a magical ward.

Edwin didn't seem bothered by the lack of finesse in the defences at all, pushing past the halfling and striding inside, instantly calling up a small bobbing torch that followed him. Montaron followed cautiously, Xzar prancing in after him as if they were going for a walk through the park. The Red Wizard made his way down the catacombs unerringly, turning down other routes and passing through junctions without any hesitation. Slowly the walls began to change, and the bare, rough stone turned into golden and blue tiles, both on the walls and on the floor. The passage opened up into a vast cavern, eerily silent, but with several torches burning in the sconces. Montaron frowned.

"Wait!" he hissed, grabbing at Edwin's arm. The wizard glared at him, but let the halfling past, and Montaron deftly began working on a tripwire that was laid across the room. Several more were disarmed before Xzar managed to step on a loose brick which caused several hidden doors to slide open around them.

"Blast it! shouted Montaron, leaping up from the snare he'd just finished on and drawing his sword to charge at the nearest skeleton. Undead poured out into the chamber and flashes of light danced in the air as Edwin's fireballs and Xzar's bolts of lightning swept through the decaying creatures. When they all lay dead, the necromancer wandered amongst them forlornly.

"They are no use, Monty," he sighed sadly. The halfling almost felt a bit of pity for him.

"We dally too long," announced Edwin with annoyance, marching onwards. Montaron swore loudly at him, but it had no effect on his pace, and the halfling was forced to grab Xzar's arm and drag the necromancer along to keep up with the Thayvian. More undead faced them as they wove their way through more tunnels, but they fell easily to the combined strengths of the wizards. Montaron had to admit to himself that he was impressed by Xzar's behaviour -- when enemies were spotted, the mage was displaying a remarkably cool head, and eliminating most of the creatures before they got anywhere near.

After what felt like miles, Edwin let out a gasp and pointed ahead. Another cavern lay before them, decorated with the same tiles, but this one was complete with a sarcophagus in the centre.

"Abou' bloody time," muttered Montaron as he inched his way forward, keeping an eye out for traps. None were found, and no creatures appeared to defend the coffin that Edwin was excitedly examining. Montaron hung back with Xzar, wanting to keep an eye on the other Zhent, and also realising with annoyance that he wasn't feeling himself again. His focus seemed to blur on and off, and suddenly his legs buckled beneath him, causing him to fall to his knees. Edwin paid no attention, too intent on carefully pushing the lid free. Montaron could just make out Xzar looking down at him, a slightly concerned expression on his face. Then it all went strange.

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Edwin could hardly believe it. The lid moved smoothly, revealing the skeletal remains of the dead mage who'd ordered the scroll to be buried alongside him -- and he didn't even come back to life to try and kill them! He reached into the coffin, ignoring the carrion, and gingerly picked up the parchment that was glowing softly in a very enticing manner. He didn't need to examine it any further at that point - he knew he had it, and he would rather unlock its secrets somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

He moved away from the sarcophagus, pulling some spell components from his pouch as he went. A sneer formed on his face as he approached the other two -- the mage was looking odder than usual, and the halfling was on his knees for some reason, but Edwin didn't care why. He had his teleport spell ready, and didn't really care what happened to these monkeys.

"I would like to say it has been fun," he said haughtily, "but I can assure you, it hasn't. I have found what I came for, and now I intend to leave. I hope you remember the path we took, otherwise you will be spending a long time down here."

He prepared himself, ready to perform the evil laugh that he'd mastered as an apprentice, but the halfling had turned to look at him and he found himself staggering backwards in horror. The fighter's eyes were glowing red, and slowly he was getting to his feet.

"I be thinkin' that you be goin' nowhere," Montaron said in a hollow voice, lunging at Edwin with surprising speed and driving his sword through the wizard's shoulder. They fell back together, Edwin's strength enabling him to push the halfling off him and his good arm clenching his reagents tightly as he murmured the words he was so familiar with. A blinding flash of light engulfed him, and when it faded he was relived to notice that his surroundings had changed. The last bit of his energy was spent stuffing his newly acquired scroll into the depths of his robes before he passed out.

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Xzar looked around himself warily. He had no idea where he was, and no idea how he'd got there -- and he certainly had no idea who Montaron was currently trying to kill. Whoever it was managed to escape by using a teleportation spell, but Montaron just slowly clambered back to his feet after having been kicked away in a most undignified manner. Xzar frowned slightly.

"Montaron, where are we?" he asked sternly, rummaging in his pouch for the components he'd need to perform a similar spell of his own. He was examining the items so closely that he didn't see the halfling approach him, his sword drawn back.

"You are... surplus to requirements," Montaron said, his voice still empty sounding. A flash of light caught the blade as it shot forward into Xzar's chest, causing the mage to crumple to the ground with shock.

"Montaron..." he whispered, seeing the red glow his companion's eyes had taken, his own expression rapidly changing to one of hatred and loathing. "You will... regret this...!"

The sword was pulled free and driven back in twice more, leaving Xzar lying in a pool of his own blood. Montaron let out a manic shriek, dropping his sword as his hands went to his head, clutching his temples in apparent pain. A shadowy figure appeared by his side and picked up his weapon swiftly.

"Interesting… Well done, my pet," a female voice purred. "You have done well, and I will reward you for your loyalty. Now come -- we must prepare for the return of our Mistress."

The two figures turned and disappeared, leaving the necromancer behind. Their footsteps had faded into the distance before Xzar opened his eyes, his hand shaking with the agony of moving his arm to pick up the reagents he'd dropped. His voice was a low murmur as he spoke, strained and interspersed by coughs, but he managed to finish the incantation before weakness completely overpowered him. He was unconscious by the time the light had faded.