Just so you know, there'll no longer be any author's notes after the end of a chapter. This calls for credits to be given to Icy Mike Molson, for a review he submitted somewhere else. Makes me realise that author's notes at the end of chapters do dramatically shorten the concentration of the reader on the actual story.
Thank you both, Phreno and Borg! I wouldn't write another chapter until I've got SOME idea of how I've done, so you should be proud because this chapter's coming out now because of you! The characters would like to thank you too…
Falcon: YEEEEEEEE!!! --Glomps and huggles and sends her three wolves to lick you both--
Celadon: --Beams-- Thank you very much! --Bows deeply-- --beams some more--
Oread: --Broods--
Ophelion: Ahem…
Oread: --Looks cluelessly at Ophelion-- --turns-- --is slightly startled as she sees Phreno and Borg-- --Smiles--
Ophelion: ... Anyways... The Diablo series is a product of Blizzard's. Everything else belongs to me.
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Chapter 13: Lingering Confusion
Oread's conditions improved.
Two days after I had first visited her at Fara's, she seemed to have recovered enough to stay conscious to converse with Falcon and me; but she always seemed a little distant when Falcon was there, as if she had something to hide from her. Falcon, with her sharp instincts and perceptions, seemed to have noticed this, and on this day she had decided to adventure around the nearby desert lands for a little.
After making her promise that she would be careful, I made for Fara's store. She was there, and said that there would be no problem for me to visit my master. The door was unlocked, she said, and asked me to make myself at home there.
So now I was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed once again in my Roguish clothes which Atma had mended highly professionally: the small brown dress, boots, my standard black choker and bands around my neck, upper arms and thighs – why they were part of the standard Rogue's outfit I would not have known, but they made me feel less exposed.
'How are you feeling today?'
'Better than yesterday.' She wore a tunic like the maize-coloured one I had before, only it was a greyish-blue colour; fabric must be one of their most-traded goods. 'If only my body could recover more quickly; I have a feeling that we're wasting people's precious time here, and the life of this little town.'
'You can't help this.' I tried a reassuring smile, and apparently it had worked.
'Where's Falcon?'
'She's out scouting the surrounding areas.'
'Good, I have to talk to you about something.' Straightforwardly – as expected from Oread's no-idle-chatter quality; but there was difficulty seeping out from between her words. 'What happened back in the Catacombs?'
'What?'
'What happened to Andariel?'
I was genuinely and completely puzzled. 'What do you mean, what happened to Andariel? You killed her with your own hands!'
'I did?'
I was getting a little frustrated now. 'Of course you did! Do you mean to tell me that you don't remember?'
'That's exactly it.' She replied, taking me by surprise.
'The poison must've numbed your senses…'
'That's not it; it wasn't like a slow fade-out kind of memory.' She looked directly at me now, and I could see the prominent confusion in her eyes. 'Tell me what happened after Andariel stabbed me against the wall and lashed out at you.'
This was unbelievable; in any other case I would have thought that she was toying with me, but the confusion was so innocent. So I told her everything after that: me using the sword against Andariel; realising that I had no antidote and considered giving in; the dark, hazy envelop surrounding Andariel –
'Wait,' she cut me off. 'I got up after that?'
'You did.' I said firmly. 'And you used a skill I've never seen before… it was like the exact opposite of Inner Sight; rather than illuminating the enemy for us to see, that skill made Andariel blind and deaf to her surroundings.'
Oread looked uneasy. 'That's not an Amazonian skill… I didn't use it.'
'But you did.' I paused, contemplating whether to tell her about her unusually sinister air when she had used that skill, and decided against it.
'Anyway, go on.'
I went on to telling her how Andariel had died, the way she had torn her spear apart when she had hacked Andariel to her gory death.
'I was gonna say; I don't even remember being nailed through the shoulder.' Without being aware of it, her right arm reached for her left shoulder. 'I know that skill, though – Impale, my people call it. It's one I've learned just so that I can have enough knowledge for the harder ones I'm planning to learn later… I've never considered using it; that was a good spear…' She looked back up at me, signally for me to continue.
I did so, telling her Akara's verdict, and our journey here. I told her how we got attacked and how Falcon entered the scene, hesitantly bypassing the part about Oread's own counterattacks, as well as the things that she had said in her delirium.
'Sounds reasonable enough.' She lied back onto her pillow. I kept my silence, and then Oread jerked her eyes towards me. 'Are you hiding something?' She asked abruptly.
'Huh?' My heart skipped a beat.
She looked into my eyes with her piercing, strangely-shaded orbs, and I swallowed. 'You're playing with that jewel again.' Her eyes moved down to my neck, where my fingers were fumbling with a milky, opaline jewel that dangled from the centre of my choker – a talisman that my mother had left me. I put my hand on my lap quickly. 'You do that every time you feel unsure or guilty; did you know that?'
I silently scolded myself; Oread was too unexpected, too abrupt, way too observant; and I was too easy to read.
'So what is it?'
No longer able to suppress my naïve honesty, I told her everything about her dreamy mumbles and her contribution to the battle, down to the point of her alternately-coloured life force, changed from deep-indigo to ice-blue. When I finished I sighed deeply, and when I looked up at my master I saw that her eyes were watery and fixated on the ceiling. Her face was pale and her forehead was slick with a thin layer of perspiration.
'Oread? You all right?' My voice communicated my panicky concern.
'I… I'm fine.' She snapped out of her daze, and dragged the back of her right hand over her eyes.
'Should I go get Fara?'
'No, Celadon...' She gripped my right forearm with her right hand as I was about to get to my feet. I looked back, and saw the longing in her unfocused eyes. 'Just… stay…' She passed out with that.
I went and got Fara, who would later tell me that Oread seemed to have suffered a shock that had mentally drained her somehow. Before that I had been talking to Falcon, after she returned from her trip with a few items, which she had sold for gold, and a few imperfect gems, jewels and runes, which she had kept.
'What do you think of Oread, Falcon?' I asked, as we were sitting, once again, at the dock, looking out into the river. She had unarmoured herself, wearing only a short sleeveless dress which fell to the middle of her thighs, the V-shaped collar and the sides of the dress below her arms opened up to the bottom of her chest. A tube top and shorts beneath that, all made from what looked like animal skin of brown or grey hues that had been hastily ripped apart, leaving uneven and ragged edges. She had short, light boots on, and still wore the necklace around her neck. She looked a lot more at home in her current outfit.
'Your master…' She began; her feet swinging above the low-tide. 'Is unlike any Amazon I've seen on the way. She doesn't fully feel Amazonian… from what I can tell, she probably hasn't been Amazonian all her life. She feels partially of some other race.' She lifted her left knee, hugging her folded left leg against her chest, and still dangled her other leg. 'Though I can't tell what that other part of her is. It's very well-suppressed; she's probably not aware of it herself. It'd be firmly held from her own consciousness.' She turned her head towards me; I noticed that I was playing with my jewel again, and I stopped. How could I have not noticed this habit of mine before? 'Besides, I'm sure you can tell that she's not the typical Amazon just by her looks.'
'True.' I replied absent-mindedly. I remembered how Andariel had greeted us – 'A young Rogue, and a half-breed'. That was what she said.
Oread and I did not bring the topic up after that. Another week passed, and one day, after I had returned from a bit of monster-shooting (monster-mauling for Falcon), I was surprised to find Oread standing beneath the arch to the city of Lut Gholein, her back to the wall. She was wearing the same greyish-blue robe that I saw before, but she also had a sash of dark-red, which she had draped from her left shoulder to her right side before tying it around her waist. She looked remarkably elegant like this, her face having regained a healthy blush and her clean, shiny hair twisted into its well-accustomed loose plait.
'Welcome back.' She beamed at us.
'You've fully recovered already?' I asked, feeling joy come into my eyes.
'Apart from my shoulder and my side, I'm well.' She replied with the smile in her voice. 'And Falcon, I haven't greeted you properly yet.' She held out a hand. 'Oread, of the southern Amazonian tribe.'
'Really now?' Falcon took her hand energetically, producing a sharp clap. Her words sounded good-natured and genuinely amused, but she and I both knew otherwise. 'I'm Falcon of the northern Druids.'
'I think we owe you a huge favour.' Oread said gratefully. 'How can we ever thank you for saving us on the way?'
Falcon retrieved her hands and put them on her hips, before lifting her head towards the sky and uttering a hearty laugh. 'No need for that. In the present situation, the more allies the better.' She blinked her bright azure eyes. 'Though I wouldn't turn down a drink.'
So we went to Atma's public house, which, at this hour of past-noon, was crowded with people. After we ate Oread asked for two pints of beer. I only asked for a small glass of ale; I had never been fond of the strong taste of beer.
Falcon asked us about Westmarch, and Oread and I told her about our adventures. By the time we had finished, Falcon had finished her drink; Oread was halfway through, seeming to take her time savouring every little sip. I, on the other hand, was struggling to finish the last few mouthfuls.
Falcon was trying to badger Oread into finishing her drink quickly and spare her the torment of seeing unfinished beer, when Atma walked over to us. I drained my glass quickly, grimacing at the taste, and turned towards her. Her face was strained and difficult.
'Atma, what is the matter?' I asked.
'Well, I…' She swallowed, and went on quickly. 'I have a favour to ask.'
'Spill it.' Oread remarked quickly and took another sip, ignoring three pairs of staring eyes.
'Our city is troubled.' Atma said with her terror-strained voice. 'I'm asking you to help us. You've defeated Andariel, and I have faith in you.'
'What is it that you want us to do?' Oread put her pint gently on the table, turning her intent eyes to Atma.
'There's a great evil residing in the sewers beneath our city;' Atma sighed. 'It's a lair of the undead. Their leader is a mummy known as Radament. Our townspeople had tried to destroy him, but we were not strong enough. Not Greiz's mercenaries, not my husband, nor my son.' She bowed her head a little, and my heart was filled with the sick sensation of pity. I was unsure of how Oread would react; she was the type that kept going in a straight line, avoiding detours. While she was not heartless, I was sure that she could be overly-rational when it comes to unnecessary troubles.
Oread moved her eyes away from Atma and swept them across to Falcon and me, searching for the approval in our eyes. She found it, and with all three of us watching her, awaiting her decision, Oread took another casual sip at her beer. 'I can't and won't promise you anything, ma'am.' She replaced the beer perfectly over the ring of cool condensation on the table. 'But we'll give it a try.'
Atma sighed and smiled at the same time; she looked happier than I had ever seen. 'That's all I ask of you.'
