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

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The Waiting Game

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"Hey Minsc, do you remember Dynaheir's face when she fell over in the sewers?" Imoen's face broke out into a wide grin as the three companions sat around Adalon's conjured fire, meant to make them feel more homely than they had been in the almost bare cavern. Anomen was sitting, listening intently to their shared stories about their past travels, a fascinated look on his face.

"How could Minsc and Boo forget?" asked the berserker solemnly. "Glorious Dynaheir was not a fan of dirt and mess, and to suddenly be covered in the evil sludge of the sewers was almost more than she could bear."

"And poor Coran tried to be sympathetic, but she just called him smelly..."

"Fair Dynaheir was wise and intelligent!"

Imoen sniggered and patted Anomen's hand. The knight was looking puzzled again. "We wandered through the sewers of Baldur's Gate when we returned to the city as outlaws."

"Outlaws?" he gaped.

"Yeah," nodded Imoen. "Though I'm ahead of myself again... but never mind. After Sarevok killed his father and his father's associates in Candlekeep, we got the blame for it and we only managed to escape when Tethy helped us."

"Tethy?" Anomen blinked.

"Oh, er, Tethtoril," she grinned.

"He was a noble man," declared Minsc happily. "He knew that little Maiyn and Minsc and Boo were good and true!"

"What about me, ya dolt?"

"This was before we met you!" called Imoen in the direction of Lilarcor, who was lying beside the packs. Minsc had set up three bed rolls to mimic a normal camp, and combined with the flickering flames, it almost felt quite peaceful to Imoen -- when she could forget about the danger her friends were in, that was.

"Booooooring!" The sword fell quiet again.

"That must have clouded your return home quite badly," said Anomen after a slight pause.

Imoen took a few minutes to consider it, while Minsc played with Boo quietly. "I guess. I'm not sure either of us saw it as 'home' any more, though. Gorion was dead, and we'd been on the road for a while, made friends and... they'd become our family. There wasn't anything for us at Candlekeep, except for memories."

Anomen nodded. It was a few minutes before he spoke, his voice low. "I... I think I understand. When I squired for the Order, I left behind my father and my sister at home. My father I barely missed, but my sister... I wished to go back and visit her, but I only rarely ever got the chance. When I did, I was eager that we spend the day elsewhere in the city, lest Lord Cor ruin the small amount of happiness I could gather from her continued well being -- physically, if not emotionally. When she was gone... when I last returned to my father's estate, with your sister and her friends, I realised there was nothing left for me there any more. Nothing, but as you say, the memories."

Imoen reached out and took the knight's hand gently in her own, offering it a slight squeeze. He smiled gratefully in return. She knew the story of his sister -- slowly she was piecing together bits of his life, from their brief time in Brynnlaw and on Saemon's stolen ship, to in the sahuagin city up until their escape. After their dealings with the Spectator, the two of them had cautiously made their way to the exiled platforms, the young girl discretely showing the orb the priestess had gifted them with to allow them safe passage.

To their relief, Prince Villynaty had been slightly less insane than King Ixilthetocal, and he had welcomed to his side and spoke of his plan to oust the king and take over the cavern as his own. Imoen had nudged Anomen pointedly in the ribs as he glowered darkly at the fish-folk, while she nodded benignly, agreeing with the outline and pledging their assistance to the cause. She then moved forward, shaking the Prince's hand warmly before he went off to sort out his troops. Anomen was still scowling -- she'd smiled at him, but he'd turned away from her, obviously grudging what they were about to do; he'd made no secret of the fact that he'd rather just wipe out the whole city, but she'd pointed out that they lacked the true force to do it.

His sulk passed soon enough, however -- as Prince Villynaty charged off with his whole complement of associates, Imoen pulled Anomen back, ducking behind a ledge until they were left alone. Noting his puzzled look, she'd smiled to him and quietly removed a thin, glowing rope from her pouch. She'd grabbed his hand and dragged him to the large well she'd spotted when they first arrived in the exile's corner, and he grinned in realisation. Together, they'd descended to the Underdark -- falling the last few feet as the angry sahuagin, above, discovered their treachery, and rushed back to their lair to cut the rope.

Not long after, they'd found Maiyn's disguised group -- or rather, been found by them, and led to this cave. After the initial awe had worn off, Adalon had patiently explained why they were disguised; then they'd returned, again, and Minsc had appeared, the drow disguise melting from his features easily. Imoen had thought her ribs would crack under the pressure of his hug, which caused Anomen to chuckle. She had the last laugh, though, when the berserker swept the knight up too, straight after, exclaiming his relief that he was also fine.

Then Minsc had filled in the missing parts of the tale -- describing the villainy of the mindflayers and the hospitality displayed by the svirfneblin. Imoen felt strange as she listened -- part of her was relieved to have missed the illithid affair, certainly -- more captivity for her would have been hard to bear. But the tales of the rest and relaxation in the deep gnome village made her yearn to be with her companions again, away from this place, and away from their troubles. She'd sighed heavily, knowing that such a chance may be far off, and it was Anomen's concern over her melancholy that had started this discussion, as he encouraged Minsc to talk about their previous travels in the hope that memories may cheer her up.

It had been working, too, until now. As if sensing the shift in atmosphere, Minsc spoke.

"Boo has reminded Minsc of the competitions little Imoen had with little Alora," he said quietly. Imoen nodded as Anomen's eyebrow rose.

"'Competitions'?" the knight asked.

"We used to argue, in a friendly way, of course, over who was the better thief," said Imoen with a small smile. "She eventually won -- Jaheira had no idea where her herbal pouch had gone, accusing Maiyn of stealing it to prevent-" Imoen stopped and sniggered slightly. "Well, she suggested Maiyn had rather dubious reasons, when in reality Alora had lifted it from her belt the previous evening."

Anomen was smiling again. "I think Maiyn may have mentioned Alora," he remarked thoughtfully. "She... passed away?"

Imoen nodded sadly. "She died when we fought Sarevok. So did-"

"Yeslick?"

Imoen nodded again to the knight. "She told you about this?"

"She mentioned it once or twice," he replied carefully. "She seemed very distressed by it all."

"We all took it hard," said Imoen softly. "Yeslick... he was like a father figure to the group. Even Jaheira and Kivan found it hard not to get along with him."

"And you were close to Alora?"

"Little Alora and little Imoen were inseparable," smiled Minsc. "When little Maiyn found Coran, little Imoen found little Alora to be just as good company. Sometimes Minsc and Boo still miss her little hairy feet. Boo said they were like a hammock, when she'd sit with her feet up and let him curl into them."

Anomen looked bemused. "You must have all been very close," he said. Imoen was sure she detected a touch of wistfulness about it, and she poked him in the ribs.

"No closer than you are to them, now," she grinned.

"To 'them'?" he teased.

She shrugged to him slightly. "I guess. I... I wasn't there..." She shuddered involuntarily as the flashes of her imprisonment went through her mind. Images of knives and spells, lights and torturous laughing threatened to overwhelm her, and the next thing she felt were two arms around her shoulders, as the men had moved closer to her sides, each embracing her protectively. She held Minsc's spare hand and leaned her head over to Anomen's shoulder, closing her eyes and thanking whoever watched over her for providing such friends; then she quickly added a prayer that asked to extend that shelter to those who weren't present.

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It seemed like weeks before they arrived, though it was really no more than a couple of days -- four dark skinned figures, stumbling down the stairs as they fled from someone or something. Despite obviously aware that the cave was a sanctuary from the drow, two kept casting fearful looks behind them -- of the others, one was carrying the body of their fifth member. Slowly he approached Anomen, placing their fallen comrade gently on the ground. The other stumbled into Minsc's arms, weary and exhausted, injuries showing clearly on her body.

The girl who had been looking back to the entrance turned her gaze to the knight, her face full of pleading. Imoen watched him nod and move to the body, the sound of his gentle prayer filtering across the chamber. The thief moved over to the girl as she moved on, stumbling towards the dragon. A flash of white caused Adalon to cry out in delight as the eggs were gently placed before her, and Imoen darted to the now revealed Maiyn.

"Boy, we sure have some stories to exchange, I guess," she grinned. Her sister smiled weakly to her in return, then fell to her knees. The human girl caught her, gently guiding her to the ground. Within seconds, the ranger was sound asleep.

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"I have been waiting for you, child. Come in -- sit down. We have much to catch up on, do we not?"

Before Maiyn was a large room, still familiar to her, despite the time that had passed. A low fire was burning in the hearth, as it always had been whenever she'd been summoned there. The books on the shelves showed no sign of being dusty, despite there being far too many for any one man to successfully read regularly. The desk was a strange mixture or organised chaos; covered in a variety of parchments and documents, inks and paper weights... letters, envelopes, books... and some things Maiyn didn't recognise at all. She never had worked out what they were, though some were, possibly, random spell components he'd never found the time to tidy up.

But everything looked like it was placed in exactly the right spot -- she'd never once seen him search or rummage for anything. Wherever he reached, what he sought would be there.

She glanced to the window -- the sky was grey outside, a single candle burning on the sill. It reminded her of a chilly winter afternoon and she shivered involuntarily. Gorion smiled as he beckoned once more.

"Who are you?"

He chuckled slightly -- a noise she missed so badly that it was painful to hear. He sat down, settling himself into the extremely large chair that he always used, and once again, waved to its twin. This time she moved forward cautiously, perching on the edge of the seat while she regarded him with suspicion.

"You do not remember your old foster father?" he asked, a twinkle shining in his eyes, and his mouth pursed into a small smile. She frowned slightly at him; he was certainly good at being Gorion, whoever he was.

"Well," she said at length. "So far, my inner being has taken on the form of Imoen and I'm assuming the taint was taking the form of Irenicus. So... what part of my subconscious are you?"

Gorion regarded her with amusement for a short while. "None," he replied simply. "I am, of course, not really with you -- but you know that. This is but a dream, and my ability to contact you in such a manner is limited indeed -- which is why I have not done so, until now."

She nodded slowly, relaxing slightly into the chair. "Why now?"

He sighed heavily -- if he'd still been alive she would have called it wearily, but it seemed strange to think a ghost could be tired. "You have been through so much, child," he said softly. "Little did I know how hard the path would be, especially when I could not walk it by your side and offer my guidance."

"I miss you," she whispered.

"I know, Maiyn," he said sadly. "But you have done well. I am proud of you, as you know."

"Then why come to see me now?"

"You do not seem to realise the very real potential there is within you," he explained. "Not a potential for goodness, however -- no, a potential for darkness and destruction. With every drop of blood that is shed in your presence -- more so when by your own hands -- the darkness inside you grows. Your soul -- so caring and kind -- is no longer there to try and smother the effect, and you have been laid bare to the embrace of your essence."

"I will fight it," she said determinedly. "I've always been fighting it..."

He nodded. "You have. But my time here is short and I must say what I need to say in order to rest assured that I have given my ward the best I can, even in my wake. You are changing, Maiyn -- you know it inside, and your comrades are all too aware in the darkening of your personality. You are quicker to act, less distraught by taking a life. Is this really you, or is it what is inside you, slowly taking you over?"

"I do what I must," she replied quietly. "I don't... I don't enjoy killing!"

"You do not, but it does. And it grows as you draw blood."

She sighed. "Then what can I do?"

"Be aware," he said, smiling. "If you are aware -- if you are conscious of the changes in you -- then you will recognise when it happens, and you will be more capable to fight it." He leaned forward slightly, keeping his eyes level with hers. "Your instinct, child, is not always something you should rely upon. Not until you get back what is rightfully yours."

She nodded, surprised when she felt Gorion's hand on hers. She sprang from her seat, throwing herself into his arms as she clung onto him with all the strength she could muster. His hold was equally tight, but slowly it began to loosen -- to fade. Maiyn cried with despair as the blackness enveloped the scene, the flickering flames from the fire being the last bit of light to be subdued.

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Anomen focussed. He focussed harder than he ever had before, reaching out to Helm as he offered his unwavering tribute and prayers. His eyes were closed tightly and every thought he had was concentrated on the task at hand; the body lying before him, his hands resting gently on the small frame of Sime. She was not a woman of faith -- she was, he knew, a pivotal pawn in all he stood against; in what Helm opposed... but he had to try. She had been loyal to their cause; he did not know what she had been responsible for before she joined their band, or how many had fallen because of her slight hand; all he worked with was the goodness he'd seen in her since they met and the fact that she had effectively sacrificed herself to save the others.

His initial attempts at reviving her had failed, and so while he rested for some minutes, composing himself for a fuller attempt, Kivan had recounted their tale briefly; from their entrance to the drow city to their fleeing, though he had left some choice details aside. Adalon had welcomed the return of her eggs, disappearing with them with the promise that she would return soon -- urging them to take the chance to rest, for the next stage of their journey would be hard.

Across the small campfire that Minsc was busily tending sat Imoen, her eyes watching the young priest as his lips moved in silent prayer. She could see small beads of sweat on his brow, his hands trembling now and again as he fought the weariness building up. Jaheira and Kivan were now asleep -- fatigued from their adventures and weary from what they'd seen. Xan was huddled by Maiyn -- he'd entered his reverie only briefly, thrashing and panicking soon after the trance-like state had claimed him, and it was only Minsc's strength that had managed to contain him, holding him tight until he brought himself back to consciousness. He wouldn't tell them what had happened or what he'd seen, despite Imoen's worried enquiries, so she'd left him alone, watching as he made his way to Maiyn's curled form, his slender fingers softly stroking her hair as she slept soundly, her loyal enchanter by her side.

She could only imagine what they'd been through -- her own adventure with Anomen seemed to pale in danger in comparison, though she knew they'd had a few close shaves of their own. Now, though, they were all together, again -- though the circumstances were less than perfect. Imoen barely knew Sime, though she had seemed pleasant enough -- professional in her actions, but possessing the same mischievous glint that Imoen had once had... before... well, before Irenicus. She hoped Anomen's prayers would be heard; it would be hard to see another loss, another friend dying in their adventures. Maiyn would take it hard -- and considering their current predicament, regardless of any assistance Adalon would provide, having her in anything less than her best form would only lessen their chances at escaping without incurring any further loss.

The human girl sighed heavily. Anomen's murmuring stopped briefly -- his eyes opened for a second, his worried gaze flickering over to her as he checked she was all right. Content that she was in no immediate harm, he drifted back to his prayers easily. Imoen frowned slightly -- she wasn't sure Helm would appreciate his concentration being so easily won from his tributes... but the glow inside her betrayed the flattery she felt.

She glanced over to Xan. He'd eventually lain down beside Maiyn, his eyes closed. She wondered if he was in reverie or asleep -- his breathing was level, anyway, and there was no sign of distress from him that they'd seen before. She hoped whatever it was had passed and he could gather his strength. He'd probably need it for when they moved off.

She sighed slightly. She should probably sleep too, but there was still some adrenaline flowing through her veins, it seemed. She was also reluctant to rest until Anomen did, for some reason -- it seemed unfair to think that he'd be the only one to potentially go without having any rest... even Minsc had risen from his seat at the fire, and she assumed he was heading to his bedroll to have a nap. She realised she was wrong when he moved over to her, settling down by her side with a smile on his face.

She couldn't help but smile in return -- Minsc just had that effect on people. He had an infectious humour, enough to put anyone in a good mood -- well, in her opinion, anyway. Boo scampered down from his shoulder, settling onto his knee and peering up at her. He squeaked loudly.

"What's that, Boo?" Minsc nodded as the rodent squeaked a few more times, and he nodded solemnly. "I think so too. Perhaps we should ask now?" Boo squeaked again.

Imoen raised an eyebrow.

"Boo is reminding Minsc of something he wanted to ask you," he said seriously, the smile having vanished from his face as gazed at her solemnly. She nodded back to him, earnestly, and he seemed to relax a little. "When glorious Dynaheir fell to the evil mage, little Imoen was still her apprentice," he mused. "But little Imoen has learnt much in the time she studied, and Boo and Minsc think little Imoen is a proper witch herself now. And a proper witch needs a proper guardian."

Imoen couldn't stop the small smile that was pulling at the corners of her mouth. She suspected she knew where this was going, but she stayed quiet, letting the berserker finish what he was saying without interrupting him.

"And so, it would help Minsc and Boo too, to complete our dejemma, if fair Dynaheir's young learner would allow Minsc to offer his protection to her. Boo has pointed out that Knight Anomen also seems to want to protect little Imoen, but Minsc thinks there is enough evil in the world to warrant two protectors!"

Imoen giggled slightly. "I'd be honoured," she said to a beaming Minsc, squealing slightly as his arms flew around her amidst Boo's furious squeaks as the rodent scrambled out of the way.

"DO YOU HEAR THAT EVIL?" Minsc roared, almost deafening the girl as he gripped her in his bearhug at the same time. "MINSC AND BOO AND LARRY HAVE A NEW WITCH, AND WOE BETIDE ANYONE WHO EVEN LOOKS AT HER FUNNY!"

Jaheira and Kivan were both started awake by the noise, and Anomen's prayers received their second brief interruption. Only Maiyn and Xan seemed to be blissfully unaware of what was happening, and when Imoen told the others and Minsc had apologised for his enthusiasm, they returned to their previous activities with mutterings and mumblings. She giggled slightly at Jaheira's choice words, but Minsc didn't seem to hear them, as he proudly conversed with Boo about their new duties.

Imoen looked over to her sister -- she looked peaceful, though she was still curled up in the same position as she'd been in since Minsc carried her to her bed. Xan was obviously resting properly too -- he'd have been the first to jump at Minsc's roar, otherwise, and she was just glad the enchanter had found some peace.

But no sooner had the thought passed through her mind, than his body began to twitch. She called out warningly to Minsc, and they moved closer. Slowly but surely, his twitching became more erratic, and just as he was about to thrash, Minsc leant forward to hold him down, startling from his slumber. He immediately disentangled himself, dragging himself to his feet and stumbling away from Imoen's worried questions. She watched him wander to the other side of the cavern with concern, only being distracted by the small voice from her side.

"Im... I just saw Gorion..."

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He hated to admit it, but he wasn't sure what to do next. Xzar hated uncertainty; there was only one thing he hated more than it, in fact, and that was being forced to do something against his will. But, apparently, that was exactly what he was doing every day -- and had been doing, for... well, years.

He reclined in the comfortable chair -- Prebek had been a fairly wealthy merchant, and now he was one of Xzar's minions, his home becoming the necromancer's laboratory. It hadn't been intentional, but the location was perfect -- he was sure it was. After a few nights in various inns, desperately trying to work out what was causing the searing pain in his head, Xzar had stumbled towards the docks, intending to find a ship that would take him north, perhaps to Baldur's Gate, where he could make his way slowly back to Zhentil Keep. But every time he seriously considered a travel plan, the pain got worse. Then they had wandered past.

He had no idea who they were, but the man was so very familiar. An elf, with a face painted in gaudy colours that matched his ill fitting garb. The girl was pleasant enough to look at, and they had trotted past him without a second glance at his hooded figure, just another lovestuck young couple. But why were they so familiar, especially him?

He'd followed them, watching as they entered an inn together. Slowly some hazy images spilled into his brain -- he was hesitant to call them memories, disjointed as they were, and he had no true recalling of anything. But he could see them in a forest somewhere, then in a large cavern beside a dragon. He'd frowned, but it was useless -- he couldn't force any more detail to come forth.

Something, though, told him they'd be important. So he'd stumbled into this house, liking its secluded position, nestled into the city walls as it was. He killed the man inside quickly and re-animated him as his first apprentice; a few summoned goblins later, and the laboratory was up and running. It didn't take someone of Xzar's intellect wrong to work out exactly what was wrong with him. And he didn't like it one bit.

So furious as he was, he'd killed three of his goblin slaves in anger, and forced the undead Prebek to repeat the tests over and over again. The same conclusion came up each time, and Xzar could barely believe what they'd done to him. His 'superiors' in the Zhentarim -- those who had feared his capability and ambition. So worried, they'd obviously been, they'd placed a Geas over him -- the exact details were impossible for him to find out, but the pain soothed when he concentrated on a way to find Montaron... yet whenever he was with the halfling, he could barely remember anything.

He killed the remaining goblins, frustrated by the whole experience. He had no choice but to find his sidekick, no matter how much he didn't want to. Without him, they'd no doubt both perish under the effects of the spell. With him, Xzar would be rendered incompetent again. The only saving grace he would have was when the caster eventually perished -- and his one comfort was knowing that in the cut-throat land of the Zhentarim, whoever had spoke the words of the Geas would not be expecting to have a long and healthy life.

Now he knew what he was up against, he would fight against it -- so when the spell was broken, he'd be able to return home and take what was rightfully his. And then they'd regret ever taking such an action on him -- of that, he was sure.