Cards Reshuffled

He who is empty inside will attempt to fill the void, in any way possible. But no keepsakes, no treasures will fill the void of an empty heart. How could such a one be expected to feel regret, or sorrow, or caring? To believe that, you would need an empty head…

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

For one, agonizingly brief moment, Zaerini thought that she was actually free of the dark and nightmarish maze she had awakened to. The southern door from the now devastated bedroom led into an open place, and the first things she saw were the trees. For a moment, she believed herself free, and she was already prepared to whoop with joy. But the smile died on her lips. These trees were weak and fading, and they grew in a cave. A large cave to be sure, with soft moss on the floor, but a cave all the same. No sunlight here, only a dim illumination that had to be magical.

“Strange…” Jaheira said. “This place is very different from what we have seen so far in this place. Our captor has not struck me as one to venerate nature or growing things, quite the opposite.”

Rini didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the three women who were approaching, their faces tense and guarded. They were all different, but all three were beautiful. One had dark brown hair, and fair skin with just a hint of leafy green. The second was golden blonde, and her skin a warm bronze. The third and last had dark green hair that reached her waist, and her body was the pale green of a new sapling. Their faces were flawless, according to mortal standards, but all of them looked sad and wary. They also wore no clothes whatsoever, and seemed perfectly relaxed about that. “Dryads…” the half-elf whispered. “What are dryads doing in this place?”

Those tree-females? Softpaws asked. I never hunted this far for fear of leaving you too far behind, but I heard the Hungry One mentioning them to you once.

What…did he say?

That he had meant for them to help him, but it hadn’t worked. Now he wouldn’t need them anymore, now that he had you.

Zaerini closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember. The memory of cold blue eyes piercing her soul like icicles floated back. And the voice…the calm, merciless voice. Once, I might have tried to use you in another manner, to rekindle the flame. To regain what was lost. But I know better now. The women of the grove taught me that what was lost is lost forever. But now…you will help me. Not to regain, but to replace. Soon. Once you have been properly prepared. Soon, you will understand exactly how I value you. But for now, there are experiments to conduct. Today, we will determine your sensitivity to cold…

The bard shivered, not just with fear, but with the memory that assaulted her. Cold spells had ravaged her, again and again, until she was huddling in a helpless ball in her cage, unable to stand, with her tears freezing instantly the moment they left her eyes. When he had finally let her be, they had formed a frozen mask around her face. He had peeled it off, tearing skin along with it, but she had been too weak to even cry out… A mask, he had said, the blue eyes considering behind the one he himself wore. How fitting. Infused with blood, now. And once the mask is really gone, and you are as you ought to be…that is when we will begin in earnest.And he had shattered the icy face against the floor.

Why…why am I not scarred? Or am I? Oh gods, what if I am? What if I’m hideous? What if he’s…

Kitten, NO! Softpaws mental presence nudged against her, scolding but protective. You look as you always have, I promise. He healed the wounds on your face. Most of the ones on your body too I think. He wanted to keep you as you were.

I’m sorry, Softy. I didn’t mean to freak out.

The cat rubbed against her leg, purring quietly. You did not. You are doing very well. Now, tail up. You need to talk to those females.

“Strangers?” one of the dryads, the green-haired one spoke. “Please, help us!” Her voice was like the whisper of leaves, and like birdsong.

“We beg you, free us!” the dark one added.

“Please…” the third one whispered, her voice weak. “Our trees are weakening, and so are our spirits in this foul place.”

Minsc slammed his giant fist into the palm of his other hand. “The Evil One keeps the kind spirits of the forest locked behind stone walls? Such crimes must not go unpunished! We must make certain they get the chance to sink their roots deep into his rotten heart!”

Jaheira was looking equally outraged, but as she approached the dryads, her voice was calm. “Tell us how we may help you, dryads. How did you come to be here?”

The dryads exchanged glances, clearly unwilling to say too much. “He has taken our trees,” the green-haired leader eventually said. “He stole them and put them here, and we cannot leave them, or we will die.”

“Then how can we help you?” Zaerini asked.

“If you could find our acorns, our trees could be replanted, and we would be safe. But he has taken them, and hidden them somewhere in this place.” The dryad put her head to one side. “If you help us, we will help you. We know how you may leave this place, and if you find our acorns we will tell you.”

Rini sighed. Right. Finding some acorns that could be hidden anywhere in a vast labyrinth crawling with dangerous monsters. Piece of cake. I shouldn’t even have to break a sweat. “Do you have any idea where to look? Any idea at all?”

The dryads shook their heads in unison.

“No, of course you don’t. That would have been way too easy. I’ll just get back to you in a century or so, shall I?”

“Child!” Jaheira admonished. “That was unkind.”

The redhead shrugged, giving the druid a stubborn glance. “Jaheria, I don’t really care right now. We need to get out of here before that madman finds us, and these three are withholding the information that may mean the difference between life and death. Until we’re all safe and sound, I’ll be as rude as I please.”

Imoen hadn’t seemed to hear any of this. She was looking at the three lovely dryads, her face longing but sad. “So pretty…I used to dream of dryads and their beautiful trees. But now my dreams aren’t pretty anymore…”

The dryads looked at each other again, and then smiled sadly at Imoen. “Has he touched you then, as he has us?”

“He tried to use us to instill emotions,” the golden one explained. “But Irenicus is empty…barren. The soil of his heart is dead and poisoned. It will not work.”

“Irenicus…” Zaerini said, the word sending ripples of fear through her soul. “Is that his name?”

The dryads gave each other confused glances. “It is who he is,” the dark-haired one said, her eyes solemn. “Who he has become. Who he was before, we do not know.”

“I know that word,” Jaheira said. “Irenicus. It is elven, and it means ‘Shattered One’.”

Elven? Rini thought. Is he an elf then? But he doesn’t seem like one…and it’s not just the things he did. I’m not so naïve as to think all elves are pure and perfect. But he didn’t feel like an elf. I guess anybody can use an elven word though. I know some myself after all. And what they were saying to Immy…he didn’t do that did he? Not to her…

A small squeak suddenly interrupted the half-elf’s musings. Boo was sitting in Minsc’s enormous palm, his nose twitching. “Boo says the Shattered One will soon shatter before Minsc’s good sword, but that we should first go acorn hunting to help the spirits of the forest.” He smiled at the dryads. “In Rasheman, the spirits are everywhere, in rocks and streams and trees. The land is alive, and the people are proud, and love freedom. Minsc will not see the gentle spirits bound in this dark place, and Dynaheir would have said the same. The mighty hamster nose of Boo will track the acorns into the very Hip Pocket of Evil.”

I must remember to ask him about Rasheman sometimes, Rini thought. Well, assuming we get out of here alive. It does sound like a fascinating place, and I hardly know anything about it.

Acorns aren’t any good to eat though, Softpaws complained. Are you sure I can’t eat that hamster? He looks suspiciously fat and juicy, I’m sure he’s in league with the Hungry One.

Don’t be silly, Softy. Minsc loves him, he probably starved himself to keep Boo well fed. And no, you can’t eat him.

Spoilsport…next you’ll probably say I can’t even play with the Hungry One when we catch him.

The bard envisioned Irenicus being savagely mauled by needlelike claws, and then batted around the floor like a mouse, tossed into the air, and pounced upon. Softy, if you can pull that off, you will be more than welcome to try. In fact, I’ll want to join in myself…

From the dryad cave, the adventurers went on to find another bedroom. This one didn’t look as if it had ever been used. It was beautiful, but in a somehow empty way. The same elegant, curling style was present in the furniture here, the bed and table, the cabinets, the bookshelves. The chamber was round, giving it the look of having been grown rather than created, and swirling leaf-like patterns decorated both the floor and the walls. Everything was in green and gold, the colors of summer, but the dark green carpet had a white pattern resembling a snowflake. Even in the time of high summer…winter is remembered. I wonder if it means something?

Imoen stared ahead, her eyes wide and blank. “What... what is this place? It's beautiful. Oh, there is simply no way that this space belongs to the same person that owns those horrible glass containers.” She hugged herself, looking distant. “He spoke of this room…when he was cutting…when the spells stabbed into my brain. He spoke of this…of her.”

Jaheira carefully put her hand on the distraught Imoen’s arm. “Child…of whom do you speak?”

“His love. His lost love. He made this room for her, as a monument. To recall her by.” Her face was pinched with remembered pain. “He…spoke of this, but his voice was cold. So cold, no emotion at all. How can he be so cold?”

Dear gods, please let me help her, though I know not how. “Immy…” Zaerini said, hoping that her voice sounded calmer than she felt, for Imoen’s sake. “I know it was terrible. But we’ll soon be free, I’m sure we will. Then he won’t be able to hurt you again.”

Imoen shook her head violently, her dirty hair lashing her cheeks like whips. “He’s hurting me still…his dirty fingers are running through my mind, poking me…changing me. This room…it is nothing to him, for all that he means. And we are less than nothing. I hate him. I hate him so much!” Her eyes darkening with uncharacteristic fury, the young thief twisted away from her friend, and crossed the threshold to the serene and dusty bedchamber.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of the alarm bell was deafening. Rini and Jaheria both winced with pain, putting their hands across their more sensitive ears. Minsc looked wildly about, searching for foes. Imoen clasped her hand across her mouth, looking completely chagrined. Fortunately, the terrible sound didn’t last for long.

“Oh no!” Imoen exclaimed, sounding more like herself. She made an exasperated noise as she spotted a trip wire along the floor. “Guys, I’m so sorry. I really should have spotted that one.” She grimaced. “If Adahn were here, he’d never let me hear the end of it.” Then she sighed again. “I really wish he were here though.”

“I’m pretty sure he’d understand that you’re not yourself just yet,” Rini said, giving her friend a reassuring hug. “As do we. None of us are exactly in shape just yet, I’m so hungry I’m seeing spots. No wonder you didn’t see it.” She found herself agreeing with Imoen in a way though. It would have been convenient for Adahn to be here, and the mysterious rogue seemed to have a gift for turning up out of nowhere. She hadn’t seen him since Baldur’s Gate though, long enough ago that she hoped Imoen had got over her unfortunate crush. Guess neither of us is very lucky in love…

Minsc was scratching his head. “Minsc is confused. The noise hurt, and poor Boo was very upset over the pain to his powerful hamster ears. But why is there no evil to fight?”

“We may not have to wait long,” Jaheira said, clutching her staff in a tight grip and not taking her eyes from the door. “That was an alarm of some sort. Let us hope it is not our captor himself who is coming, but simply some of his minions.”

Gee, Zaerini thought. There’s a happy thought for you. She couldn’t distract herself with her attempt at flippancy though. The very thought of seeing her captor again… Irenicus, his name is Irenicus…filled her with cold dread. We should run! But where to? He could be anywhere, and we don’t know the way out…

Then, heavy footsteps came pounding around the corner, and in the distance she could hear the dryads cry out a warning. Two massive, vaguely humanoid creatures rushed into the room, fists raised to attack. They looked rather like badly formed clay sculptures, such as a child might make, but their eyes were glowing with magical light, and they were moving with strong and single-minded purpose. Zaerini struggled to draw her sword, knowing as she did that it would do little or no good. Clay Golems! Now, where’s a good hammer when I could really use one…