Madness in his Method

(2:00 AM)

A shower of broken glass came down on the trio, and the elf had to unceremoniously dump Nell over by the wall in order to dodge the shards. Rubbing her shoulder, Nell looked up to see the elven woman interposing herself between Dace and the minstrel.

"Not another step, blackheart!" Nell saw a small mace appear in Selena's hand. "Keep away from her!" The cleric was starting to sound like her mother. Or maybe it was just the blow to Nell's head from before.

"You make a fool of yourself, elf. If I intended harm, she would already be bleeding or dead. She is an asset that will help serve our contract."

"People are not tools. Kidnapping an innocent and stranding her in the midst of a pending city-wide destruction is going too far."

Dace looked down his nose at the elf. "Are you dense? That is exactly why you need me. I go to those terrible lengths, do things that you refuse to even consider. That is how this works. I trudge through the dirt to help you emerge the victor, and you get to maintain your pristine morality."

"I only put up with you because Cerdan believed you could be controlled. It's my own fault for actually believing that. Leave us."

The mercenary shrugged and Nell felt a wave of relief as the man slowly walked toward the door. "So be it. I said I would bring down Cyrael, and I will do so in my own way." He paused as he opened the door. "You have the means, faithmonger. You have the goal. You know what you face. Are your morals so important that you would let an entire city burn? Do not let pride obscure the course that must be taken. Make your choice."

As he exited, leaving the two women alone, Nell got up from the ground and looked at the cleric. "What did he mean by that last part?"

Letting out a slow breath, Selena shook her head. "That's… not something you need to worry about right now."

"Do all of you adventurers speak so vaguely?" Nell said through clenched teeth as she adjusted the violin case strapped to her back. "Let me tell you something. In the past half-day, I've been kidnapped, beaten, shipwrecked twice, transported halfway down the Sword Coast, and had all manner of sharp-toothed, spell-slinging, maniacal monstrosities threaten and shove me around in all directions but up. I'm not in the mood to be treated like some halfwit child by some holier-than-thou clergywoman, so tell me what in the hells this is all about!"

Returning the mace to the belt beneath her robe, the cleric fixed Nell with a hard stare as they left the room and searched for the way to the street. "Fine. The mercenary expects me to force you to help us fight Cyrael. You said you're resistant to magic, and I believe you. No one with an attitude like yours would bother to make up something like that. At any rate, you'd stand the best chance at retrieving that wild-magic cube or surviving his flame sword… possibly."

The elf seemed to notice the wary look on Nell's face. "Of course, I won't make you do any of that, but I hope you'll at least consider–"

"Forget it," Nell crossed her arms. "I just want to go back to Waterdeep. I'm a musician, okay? I have a life to think of."

Nodding, Selena frowned slightly but didn't say anything to refute her. The look on the elf's face left Nell with the feeling that the cleric was judging her. "Fine, but I must insist that you at least come with me to my fellow clergy at the temple. They can take care of you for now, and you look like you could use some rest."

Music to my ears, Nell thought, In an off-key, dissonant way. Small comfort now that I've no hope of reaching the Conservatory on time. Damn adventurers. Whatever they're doing, I hope it's worth all this trouble.

(2:07)

"This isn't worth the trouble," said Lenthyrr, briefly glancing at Cerdan. "This clergywoman likely lacks the divine talent to unravel the Sigil's warding anyway."

Cerdan shrugged and continued to run through various escape attempts in his head. The presence of the human, however, complicated things immensely. He recognized her as one of Selena's friends – Cheryl, or something – and he knew that abandoning the young woman to certain death wouldn't ingratiate him to the ex-priestess. The best he could do for now was to continue playing the game and try to leave as little destruction in his path as possible.

The celestial seemed to be making little progress with the cleric through his words, and it wouldn't be long before they carried out their threats. Cerdan motioned for Cyrael to come closer.

"Perhaps you should let me try speaking with her," the rogue suggested. "No offense, but I think the both of you have no idea how to speak to her kind." The celestial gave a slight nod, passed him the Sigil, and waited with Lenthyrr by the window as Cerdan went over to the cleric.

Crouching down on one knee, Cerdan looked the woman in the eye. "You know what they're going to do to you if you don't undo the Sigil's wards." He didn't bother phrasing it as a question. "Now, normally I'd applaud your conviction, but this matter isn't just about you. If you don't agree to help them, they will find someone else in the place who can." He lowered his voice slightly. "Someone more competent, more skilled."

The woman remained silent as stone.

"You're Selena's friend, aren't you? Cheryl, or Carol? Early yesterday, I sent her a letter stamped with the seal of a black three-pointed crown." That mention seemed to get the cleric's attention. "Well, I should inform you that I'm not who you think I am."

"You're Caden the Bloodletter, scourge of Caden's Hill, and the one for whom cleric Shademoor gave up her priesthood to protect."

"… Okay, maybe I am who you think I am. All the same, I'm only working with those other two," he said, tilting his head to the side and back, "in order to slow them down. But it would be far better if I could do that without bloodshed." He held up the Sigil.

"You're asking me to put a great deal of trust in you," she whispered.

"Yes, faith! Isn't that what you clergy-types are supposed to have in abundance?"

The cleric rolled her eyes. "Not blind faith. If even a fraction of the things I've heard about you from the Prelate are true, you'd say anything to acquire power for you bloody crusade." Slowly, she reached out to take the black amulet. "But the former priestess seems to believe in you. And I have faith in her. So out of respect for cleric Shademoor, I'll do as you ask."

Cradling the Sigil in her palms, the woman closed her eyes. "Any my name in Charell, by the way. Don't bother sharing yours, I already know more about you than I would ever care to."

Letting out a sigh, Cerdan shook his head slightly and rose from the ground. Sheesh, he thought, commit one act of mass murder, and suddenly you're nobody's friend. Who'd have guessed?

He glanced over his shoulder to Cyrael and Lenthyrr and gave a single nod. His conversation with Charell was spoken in soft enough tones, and the others gave no indication that they had heard his words. Good enough, he thought as Charell began her work on the Sigil, Let's see where this takes us.

(2:14)

"There, you see?" asked Lenthyrr. "He does support our cause."

Cyrael let his wings flutter slightly, stirring up a cloud of dust around them. It was almost pitiable how far the elven vampire was enthralled by delusions of her own making. Perhaps undeath had put her mental faculties into a sort of stasis. Perhaps she had lost perspective that things were different now than they were a half-century ago. He offered no reply to the elf, and they waited patiently in minutes of silence.

As the human finished her spell, she handed it back to Cerdan, who wrapped it in a white kerchief he produced from a pocket. The rogue nodded to the cleric. "Thank you, my good woman." He then slammed his fist into her forehead, and the human practically flew backward before hitting her head against the stone column and falling still on the floor.

"Ouch," Cerdan said, flinching slightly. "Well, the best place to get hurt is in a temple, after all."

The elf returned to the others near the window, and with an exaggerated flourish, handed the wrapped amulet to Lenthyrr. The vampire let a hand linger over the cloth for a moment. "I sense no divine magic exuding from the amulet. I imagine the cleric has done her part."

"Then we're finished here," Cyrael said as he took the wrapped artifact and put it away in a pocket on his coat. "Now to make our way to the final battleground."

"You're not going to risk another teleportation spell, I hope," Cerdan remarked. "I hear those Wild Surges induce madness over time."

"No, I've an alternate method for our purposes."

Lenthyrr suddenly grabbed Cerdan by the arm and moved him toward the window.

"Wait, what are you doing now?" Cerdan twisted slightly. Behind them, he saw that Charell's eyes fluttered slightly, and her head turned in their direction.

"Not a season for argument, elf." Cyrael pointed out the window to the south. "The time has come for us to take flight to the city's Old Quarter."

(2:17)

"How could this possibly happen a second time?" demanded the Prelate.

Sir Rennemar could only shake his head. "I wasn't in the tower during the first attack, so I cannot explain it, sir. All I know is that the cleric is in peril. I'd expect nothing less from that winged beast." He had to admit, though, it was a relief that no one had been trapped within the ice wall this time. Little surprise to learn that magic was the chief weapon of the hostage-taker.

They stood at the base of the spiral stairwell that led to the temple's highest room. Several priests, as well a local mage, had squeezed into the passage to deal with the ice barrier that blocked their path.

One clergy member hurried down and addressed Saudere. "Sir, the wizard seems to be making progress. He says we'll be able to send someone through shortly."

"So soon?"

"He claims the barrier here is weaker than the one from before. Something about the prior ice wall being 'maximized' or some such."

And now we stoop to using magic in order to undo the damage caused by magic in the first place, Rennemar thought, How utterly demeaning.

A loud cracking noise echoed down from the stairwell, prompting Rennemar to hurry up the steps. He soon came across the ice wall and the wizard who had been summoned here from the local mages' guild. Ignoring the disgustingly smug grin on the spellbinder's face, Rennemar stepped past and examined the barrier. A huge hole had been created in the centre of the frozen layer, as if a humongous fist had burst through from this side.

The wizard called out to Rennemar. "If you intend to face the villain, it may be wise to accept some magical enchantments for protection."

"Never," the knight hissed to himself as he ducked and went through the hole. Lying on the steps past the ice was a dried corpse in the vestments of Tyr. As decayed as the body was, he could tell that it was not the abducted female cleric. Drawing his sword from the sheath, Rennemar didn't bother waiting for back-up, and twisted the handle of the door above as soon as he reached it.

Throwing the door open, he was somewhat dismayed to find himself facing an empty room, save for the abducted cleric lying on the ground near a marble archway in the middle. One set of the window shutters had been left open, letting a stream of moonlight into the chamber.

The High Prelate came up from behind, torch in hand. "Is she alive?"

Charell groaned as the torchlight shone over her face. Leaving the Prelate to check on the woman, Rennemar slowly circled around to the open window, holding his weapon at the ready in case some unseen threat remained.

"They've already gone," Charell managed to get out. She grimaced and lightly touched a hand to the back of her head as she was helped into a sitting position. "Priestess Sha- I mean, former priestess Shademoor was right. A wayward celestial has control of the Sigil of the Fallen."

"But then why return here?" Rennemar asked.

"They made me remove the wards on the artifact."

The Prelate crossed his arms and looked down at her. "They?"

She nodded. "The celestial, a vampire of some kind, and… uh, an elf." The last bit came out as a mumble, but the Prelate more than made up for her lack of volume.

"An elf?! The Bloodletter… it was him, wasn't it?!"

"Well, yes, I believe so, sir. But he told me that he only meant to impede–"

Prelate Saudere began barking orders as other knights and clerics emerged from the stairwell. "Use whatever divinations are at your disposal; I want to know how they penetrated this room, and I want to know who these vile beings are that dare to stand alongside the Bloodletter." He turned back to the cleric. "Where did they escape to? Did they mention a word of their plans?"

Rennemar helped the young woman to her feet, and she pointed out the open window to the south as she leaned against the column. "They mentioned something about the Old Quarter, something involving the magic behind the Sigil."

"Then I want to know everything about this… 'Sigil', and why it fell into Caden's hands of all people."

(2:24)

"I'd feel terribly humiliated right about now, were I not so utterly terrified." Cerdan mumbled under his breath. He looked down as they flew past the building-tops. "Hey, I think I can see my house from here."

In truth, they weren't so much flying as they were gliding. The extra weight from carrying both elves likely made it harder for the celestial to remain aloft. Regardless, they were already fast approaching the city's Old Quarter, due to the odd wind that Cyrael seemed to constantly expel. Cerdan chuckled at that thought.

All outhouse humour aside, the celestial was proving himself to be far stronger than he both looked and felt. As Cerdan hung from one of the winged man's arms, he thought he could almost feel the celestial's bones directly through the fabric of his coat sleeves.

Cyrael turned slightly, and they began to slow as they circled down toward one of the many dilapidated and neighbourhoods of the abandoned district. They set down in one of the larger clearings in the street.

"This will be close enough between points," Cyrael said to Lenthyrr as she handed him the green cube. With a single glance, the celestial appeared to size up Cerdan, and for a moment the rogue feared this might be the breaking point. Instead, Cyrael merely folded his wings tightly to his body and began walking away to the south.

As Cerdan moved to follow, Lenthyrr caught him by the shoulder. "No, he goes on alone. You and I shall make our stand here against our collected foes, in the name of all who perished at Caden's Hill."

"Right…" Cerdan murmured. He swept a hand around, gesturing at the empty clearing. "Just look at all these guys. Goodness me, there are so many, I can't even count!"

"A collective army made up of the Knights of Tyr, the city guard, and any local adventurers' guilds will be converging on our location soon." As if anticipating his next question, Lenthyrr added, "Because I intend to summon them to our presence immediately."

If she was anyone else, Cerdan would have expected her to follow up with a joking laugh or a knowing smirk, but it was clear from her stone-faced expression that neither was forthcoming. Good gods, she's actually serious. Her delusions about him being a saviour for elvenkind were cute enough, but now she was entering a madness of ridiculous proportions.

"And we're supposed to fight the entire armed forces of Baldur's Gate with a single blade between the two of us?" He let his hand touch the hilt of his sword, wondering if he'd have to use it now against present company. "Really now, you would need to have some pretty crazy magical talent to think of standing even a pixie's chance against–"

The vampire turned her back to the elf and put both her hands out, palms down, forming a triangle with her fingers and thumbs. She held that pose for a long period, and Cerdan began to wonder if she was casting a spell or had fallen asleep.

The ground started to shake, and Cerdan jumped slightly as a black marble panel burst up from the ground in front of them, like a giant onyx tooth. Dust began to kick up into the air as similar shiny vertical panels appeared, forming a large circle around the clearing. A second layer of dark metal began to appear, building and growing atop the black material like it was alive. In mere minutes, a complete cylindrical base had been formed in the previously empty clearing, and Cerdan could vaguely guess at what was happening here.

"You're summoning a twin to the tower of Tyr. Only a bit narrower… and the colour is wrong." He could see the similarities in the structure's texture and design.

The elven vampire groaned slightly and staggered backward, clutching the sides of her head. Cerdan made no move to support her. "A most demanding spell. Something I learned from a wise man in the Anauroch. Not an exact replica, but it will serve its purpose well enough. The knights wouldn't dare pass up such a blatant challenge to their precious pride." She steadied herself and lowered her head, appearing to drink in the moonlight. The vampire bent down and scooped up a handful of pebbles from the ground, which she placed in a pocket on her robe. "They will come en masse like moths to a bonfire. And we shall soak the earth red with blood and tears…"

In mid-tirade, she reached out to the side and grabbed Cerdan by the front of the tunic, dragging him closer as the tower artifice continued to grow and self-construct.

Yep, she's definitely brain-burned, thought Cerdan. "Well, it's like I always say: if you've got to die, die in the craziest, most insane and nonsensical way you possibly can."

(2:41)

"Why are we still standing here in the streets?" asked the minstrel. "I can see your temple from here."

"Shh." Selena ignored the question and focused on the copper ring on her finger. The Prelate would take her into custody the moment she stepped through the tower gates. Even if she sent Nell in alone, there was a risk that Nell would say who sent her. Then Saudere might turn his wrath upon the poor minstrel.

Just hope Charell is still wearing the ring I gave her before I left. The elf closed her eyes and centred herself. She spoke aloud, hoping the enchanted ring would carry her words to her friend. "If you can hear me, don't say a word."

"Why? You don't like the sound of my voice?" asked Nell, clearly unaware of what she was doing.

Charell's voice echoed in the elf's mind. "Uh, excuse me for a moment."

Assuming that her friend was moving away from another conversation, Selena continued. "Charell, there is a Waterdhavian girl that I'm sending to the tower. She's been through an ordeal already, so try to keep her away from the High Prelate's attention. No doubt the–"

"Wait," Charell whispered, "The High Prelate is occupied enough as it is. Caden the Bloodletter and the celestial you were looking for, they both showed up here a few minutes ago and made me remove the wards from one of the Sigils."

"They what?!"

"Prelate Saudere is gathering as much manpower that can be spared and is planning to take a squadron toward the Old Quarter in pursuit."

"What could possibly lead Cyrael to go there?" Selena wondered aloud as she craned her head around the building corner, looking south. "Wait… where did that come from?" A twisting, blackened spire, about half the height of the Tower of Tyr and counting, stood prominently above the city's southern skyline in the moonlight.

"The tower, I take it? It appeared there just a few minutes ago, and it's growing fast. That celestial of yours isn't one for discretion, is he?"

"Actually, he is…" It didn't make sense when she thought about it. All the lies and layered plans Cyrael had orchestrated since this all started, only to follow up with a blatant, giant eyesore for everyone in the city to see? "It's a feint. It must be."

"But to what end?"

The elf shook her head. "Perhaps he wants a chance to be rid of the city's armed forces all at once. I'll have to look into this myself. In the meantime, expect to receive the Waterdhavian girl at the front gates in a few minutes." Selena paused a moment before delivering her last instructions. "Charell, there is one last thing I need you to do for me when this is all over, in case I'm unable to carry it out myself."

"Of course, anything."

"Don't be so quick to agree just yet. What I'm about to ask might mean the end of the city's trust in the Church of Tyr. It's not something I want to see done, but to let it slide would be an even greater miscarriage of justice. So listen close, and decide for yourself if this is the right course…"

(2:51)

"The tower stands to the south, sir."

"I can see that," snapped Saudere. "But what of its defenses? Have we the manpower to seize that fortress?"

"It's a magical construct, so there's no telling what dark arts they're using," said Sir Rennemar.

The Prelate frowned but added nothing more, knowing that the knight would be outraged if he became aware of what Saudere was planning to do. Glancing back at the column of paladins and the few clergymen that would accompany them, the Prelate focused his eyes on the covered chest that was being guarded by his Royal Horsemen. None of his men had been told what lay within; they were all loyal enough to do their duties without yielding to curiosity. They probably assumed it contained religious tools.

Saudere knew there was some slim chance that the Bloodletter might still possess some lingering power from the Behemoth's Heart, despite what the elf claimed, so an appropriate countermagic was brought along under close guard with the Prelate's entourage when he arrived at Baldur's Gate.

In the back of his mind, Saudere questioned whether his superiors would approve of such a drastic measure. Likely not. The creature that lay dormant within the sealed chest would be enough to consume even the Behemoth's magic once awakened. Releasing it, however, might even be as equally destructive as letting the Behemoth roam free. But there was little recourse; Caden had to be eliminated to serve two fronts. The elf's death would protect his colleagues in the Church of Tyr, and at the same time it would tie up a loose end, assuring Saudere's position among his… other associates.

"Better to release the evil I do know than risk the evil I don't."

Rennemar turned to the Prelate. "Beg your pardon, sir. Did you say something?"

He shook his head. "No… nothing at all."

(3:00 AM)