Cards Reshuffled

You may think that it is bad enough to have a dangerous enemy hating you with a passion. But that is not the worst kind of enemy you can have. The worst kind of enemy is the one who feels no hate, has no passion to interfere with his thoughts and plans, and who is as devoid of malice as of mercy.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

His eyes were blue, that was what she remembered most clearly. Blue like the sky on a winter day. Cold. Remote. Emotionless. What was his face like? She couldn’t seem to remember, it was all a blur of disjointed images twisted up by the pain that ran like a trail of blood through all her memories. Young? Old? Ugly? Beautiful? Or all of it? Her mind felt…fractured. Like a broken mirror, badly glued together. But the eyes were there, throughout it all. Blue. Beautiful. Utterly terrible.

Knives flashed through her mind, cutting her soul. That was worse than cutting the body, it felt like being torn apart from inside. Magic lashed and burned, whipped and seared. She couldn’t reach inside, couldn’t touch the source of her own power. It hurt too badly.

Blue eyes…so blue.

He…made her do things. No. Nonononono. She didn’t want to remember. It hurt too much.

I don’t want to remember any of it.

Why? He never explained, never threatened, never demanded. Only told her what he was going to do to her, and then did it. Always he spoke in that calm, reasonable voice. No anger, no triumph, no gloating. Just detached interest. He was observing her, every scream, every cry, every shade of bruising, and every spilt drop of blood. Observing, cataloguing, drawing conclusions. How much pain could she take? He seemed determined to find out.

How long has it been? I…can’t remember any more.

The cage she was in was small, far too small to rest comfortably. The iron bit into her back and her legs were cramped as she huddled on the bottom of it, shivering with cold. Then that voice again, that beautiful cold voice, and the chilling blue eyes in the immobile face.

“So, the Child of Bhaal has awoken. It is time for more…experiments.”

Didn’t this happen before? Am I awake now, or dreaming still?

Pain, more pain. Screaming, voice raw with pain. Screams like music. Lovely music. Then blackness.

“Interesting. You have much untapped power.”

The voice again, carefully measured, considering. More pain, mind all hazy. Then explosions in the distance. More screams.

Was that me? It wasn’t, was it? But I’m not sure. Does it matter?

The voice of Him, speaking, but not to her. The words were swirling, dancing, incomprehensible. Then he was gone, leaving only the memory of blue eyes behind. Her own eyes closed, she curled up in her cage, tears leaking out from beneath her eyelids. Finally, exhausted, she slept. Then, she dreamt.

There was a tree, the largest tree she had ever seen, as large as a city, humming with life and power. Two people were standing beneath it, a man and a woman. The man had his back to her, but she could see the woman’s face, with slanted elven eyes and pointed ears partially covered by a mane of reddish-golden hair. She was regally dressed, proud and beautiful. Then she toppled and fell, cracking into a million pieces, and there was only emptiness inside. The man laughed, and there was something frighteningly familiar about that laughter. He started to turn…

A battle was raging around a castle, she could hear the screams of the dieing, smell the stench of the dead. She hovered, invisible, in their midst. Snarling creatures rushed past her, there were flashes of green skin and sharp fangs. Then the battle was over, the monsters gone. But the castle was dark and ominous, and filled with danger. Who rules here? And who will rule? She was within now, standing inside a great stone hall, and a girl was before her, younger than herself, with red hair and a look of arrogant determination on her face. Then the girl spotted somebody behind the dreaming woman, and her entire face lit up with happiness and love, the haughtiness melting away. She reached out her hand and all of a sudden her hair had turned a midnight black, and shadows danced in circles around her. Yet she was still smiling at the unseen person in the background. The dreaming woman turned around to try to see who it was…

A harp was playing, playing a beautiful melody, but it was sad, so sad as to make her heart bleed. It was a song of mourning. Who has died? Who is grieving? There was a woman in the distance, standing at a fork in the road. Her golden-brown hair was blowing freely in the wind, her face was resolute, but her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Jaheira? The name meant something, should mean something. The woman…Jaheira…turned and started walking down one of the dividing roads, and the dreamer knew that it was extremely important which one it was. She turned to follow…

There was a large tent, in brilliant colors, with flags flapping in the wind. Cheerful music was playing, and there was the smell of sweets. A circus? There was the laughter of little children all around, and then the laughter turned to screams, the open door to the tent became a grinning maw. Something…something is inside. Something evil. She started walking towards the door, helpless to stop. As she was about to enter, she felt a hand on her shoulder and a low voice whispered into her ear. I know that voice, don’t I? But who… “Beware. It is not what you think it is…beware the one behind the mask. I should know…” She turned to see who was speaking to her…

A girl was standing in the midst of a heap of rubble, stone dust settling onto her pink hair, her face streaked with tears and dirt. She was shouting, screaming at somebody who was just out of sight. Immy, the dreamer thought. I remember…got to help Immy. The girl…Imoen…raised her hand, and suddenly her eyes hardened. The dreamer didn’t know what was about to happen, but she knew it spelled disaster. Immy! Don’t! Then she was running, running after Imoen who was rapidly disappearing down a dark and empty corridor. Immy! Wait, I’m coming for you! I’m coming! IMMY! But she was being hunted even as she hunted, threatening footsteps coming closer and closer, almost upon her now, and she could run no further, couldn’t escape, couldn’t get out… Finally, the dreamer snarled, a feral sound of rage and hate, and as she turned she could see the sharp claws growing from her fingertips…

A man was sitting in a room, alone and reading a book. His red robes were immediately familiar, and the dreamer felt herself suddenly swept by contradicting emotions. He…it’s HIM! How… The wizard was looking tense and nervous, and he kept constantly starting at shadows. Suddenly, his dark eyes widened as there was a low hiss from inside the fireplace. A small cat, bright red, came strolling out of the flames, golden eyes glaring accusingly at the mage. Before he had the time to react, there was a low growl at the door, and the shadows solidified and came to life. A large black wolf stood there, teeth slightly bared, never taking his eyes off the wizard. Joy and fear warred for supremacy on the wizard’s face as he watched the two animals. “You came back…” he whispered. “I kept wishing for it…but it is too dangerous! They are hunting still.” And now there were footsteps outside the door, and somebody was tearing it open. As the wolf snarled and the cat bared her claws, the dreamer turned around to see who was coming…

“Wake up, you! Wake up! Come on, we have to get out of here!” Blue eyes, but not cold. Frantic, concerned, as familiar to her as were her own. The face that floated just before her own eyes was dirty and pale, and far too thin. And that scar…where did that scar come from? She shouldn’t be scarred. It…it was He. He did that, I know it. Pink hair, dirty and bedraggled. Only person I know who’d dye it in that color. The woman in the cage groaned, swimming up towards full consciousness, aches and pains suddenly springing back in full focus in her mind. The name floated up of its own accord, brought back by the dream.

“Im…Imoen?” Her voice sounded a little hoarse. Screaming. It’s from all the screaming. No. Don’t think about that. Not now.

Imoen nodded nervously, fiddling with the lock on the cage. “No time to talk, Rini. Got to get you out before…before he comes back.”

Yes. That is my name. Zaerini. It is starting to come back. But…I was dreaming before she woke me up. It was important, I know it. I should try to remember. It was no use. Only fragments of the dream remained, the rest had scattered before the pain, the cold, the hunger. But freedom was close, so close. Finally the door opened, and she practically fell outside into Imoen’s waiting arms, her legs too unsteady and cramped to support her.

“You’re so thin…” Imoen whispered. “And…and he hurt you.” She winced, like an animal expecting to get kicked. “Sometimes I would hear it…”

“Immy…where are we? Who…how did this happen to us?”

Imoen gave her friend a sympathetic hug. “He messed with your head too, huh? All I know is we were near Baldur's Gate and got jumped. You remember?”

Shadows. The shadows… moved. They came alive. We fought, but they were too many. Too strong. Zaerini raked her hand through her red hair, wincing at the grime she felt and at the clumps of dried blood. “Not much,” she said. “But…what about you? You…he hurt you too, didn’t he? And how did you get out? Weren’t you locked up too?”

For a moment Imoen’s face went still, her mouth a little slack, her blue eyes unfocused. “I…I don't think I want to remember it all. He's been... doing things... to us. Rini, we have to get out of here! And…he’s done something to me…something is different, but I don’t know what. It’s like my bones made a little dagger, and it’s stabbing me. My head hurts…”

“All right, all right…” Zaerini said, holding her friend close as she stroked the dirty pink hair. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You’re right. We should get out of here.”

Imoen nodded. “He’s…distracted. Under attack. There was fighting everywhere, people in dark clothes attacking…him. I think they were assassins. But it was they who died…there’s dead people everywhere.” Her eyes turned distant once again. “My cell got damaged. That’s how I was able to get out, and I found these lock picks…not very good ones, but enough. I had to get you out.”

“Me…” Zaerini asked, dreading the answer she might get. “Are there…there were others traveling with us, weren’t there? Have you…have you seen them?”

Imoen shook her head despondently. “I don’t know, Rini. I…please don’t ask me. They might still be alive…we should look for them. But we should go to the next room first, I think I saw some weapons in there.”

The redhead nodded, looking around for the first time since she had left the cage. She was within a vast dungeon, with cold stonewalls, and a liberal amount of chains dangling from the roof. There was another cage, hanging from the ceiling like the one that had held her, but this one contained an ancient skeleton, with not a trace of flesh left on its bones. In the distance, she suddenly heard the sound of an explosion, and faint screams. “Yes,” she said. “Weapons sound like a good idea.”

The two friends slowly walked towards the door they could spot nearby, their hearts beating furiously as they expected to be attacked at any moment. I will not go back inside that cage, Rini thought. Never. He’ll have to kill me first.

As they passed through the open doorway, she blinked as unfamiliar light stung eyes accustomed to darkness, and for a moment she stood motionless on the threshold. Then, something streaked through the air towards her, landing on her shoulder, and she screamed with utter terror as she tried to claw the monster away from her body.

Kitten, don’t! It’s only me! The voice within her head was frantic with concern, but filled with love as well, and it made the terrified half-elf stop in mid-motion. She was still breathing heavily as she turned her head, feeling soft fur brushing her cheek, and her own golden eyes looked into a pair of bright green ones in a black and furry face, inches away from her own.

Softpaws!