Cards Reshuffled

No doubt it must have irked my sire to no end to learn that I no longer found him the scariest person in the world. It must be very embarrassing for a god when your best nightmares are nothing compared to the memories of the actions of a living person.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

It was sunset when they arrived. The castle was sharply outlined against a blood red sky, a vast and compact black shape, topped with spires and turrets like jagged teeth, tearing hungrily at the wind. And on the battlements there were…things. Rounded things on top of tall, thin things.

“Great Silvanus…” Jaheira murmured, her voice laced with revulsion. “There are heads on poles all over the place.”

“And that isn’t all,” Edwin grimly added. “I saw something else up there just now, and from the way it moved there is no way it could have been human. (Unless it was a relative of the Helmite of course. I keep expecting him to revert to supporting himself on his knuckles.)”

Despite the approaching darkness, Zaerini could still see Nalia clearly. The young noblewoman’s face had gone as white as a sheet, and her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at her home. “No…father…we…we came too late! They have taken the Keep!” She was clearly trying to keep her composure, but her voice was still trembling. “I cannot believe this…those beasts! Those filthy monsters!”

Jaheira picked up on this in an instant. “You knew, did you not? You knew that the attackers were other than human, and you did not tell us? What were you trying to do, girl, get us all onto pikes like those ones?”

“Minsc would not like to go on a pike,” Minsc mused. “It’s hard to kick the butts of Evil when you have no feet.”

Nalia was shaking her head in denial, reddish hair dancing about her chagrined face. “No…I mean…I didn’t mean…”

“Well then, what did you mean?” Jaheira asked, crossing her arms across her chest as she glared at the young woman.

“I had to!” Nalia said, partly guiltily, partly defiantly. “Don’t you see? None of the others would help me when I told the truth, and my father…”

“Listen to me,” Rini said, looking Nalia straight in the face. It was at times like this that she wished she was taller, she was both shorter and more slender than the human girl and she had to compensate for that with sheer force of will. Fortunately it seemed to work, as Nalia took a hesitant step backwards. It might have had something to do with the way the half-elf’s eyes reflected the light of the setting sun. “I can understand about trying to help your father. But I don’t like being misled, and if you want us to take even one step further you had better tell us everything you know, truthfully. And if I find out you’ve lied to us…well let’s just say I’ll be very unhappy with you. I don’t like it when my and my friends’ lives are put needlessly at risk either. Understand?”

Nalia nodded mutely.

“Oh, very nice,” Zaerini could hear Edwin say in a quiet voice. “Very, very nice. Especially the way her eyes glowed…”

“Minsc doesn’t want his Witch to be unhappy either!” Minsc said. “Little Nalia should just tell the truth, and then we can all be friends again.”

Nalia bit her lip. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. I’ll tell you all I know.” What Nalia did tell them was that the attack, which had begun about a week or so previously, wasn’t the work of humans at all. Instead, the invading army was composed of trolls, dangerous monsters that could regrow lost limbs as well, even come back from the brink of death unless you used fire or acid to permanently slay them. “And there were some other creatures as well,” she explained. “I don’t know what they are, they work upright, but there’s something snakelike about them. They don’t all look the same either, some are almost pure snake, except for maybe having arms, others look almost human, but hiss when they speak. Some have fangs, or forked tongues or scales.”

“Yuan-Ti,” Edwin said, nodding to himself. “I’ve never actually seen any myself, but I’ve read about them. They’re snake people of course, part human, part reptile in different combinations.” He looked vastly annoyed about something as he went on. “But they shouldn’t be here! Yuan-Ti live in tropical jungles, it should be too cold for them here!”

“Maybe they didn’t choose to come here,” Rini suggested. “Somebody could have brought them, right?”

“I suppose so,” the wizard admitted. “If we fight them, we should be prepared for anything. They are clever, and they like using traps.”

Please don’t tell me that they use magic too.

“And some of them are spellcasters too,” Edwin went on. “They know some very interesting spells, actually. I wrote an essay on them once, I still remember most of it. (Hmm…maybe I could acquire some interesting scrolls off their charred corpses…)”

“Perfect,” the bard sighed.

“It cannot be helped,” Anomen interjected, looking eagerly towards the castle. “Innocent people’s lives are at stake…” He blushed as he noticed the heads on the poles. “I mean…at risk. We must strike swift and hard!”

“Whoa!” Rini told him, shaking her head. “There could be any number of trolls and yuan-ti in there. We can’t just go knock on the front door, that’d be suicide!”

“Actually,” Nalia said, “I think I have an idea about that…”

Nalia’s idea involved a secret passage, the very same one she had used to escape the Keep in the first place, and it was decided that they should check it out in the morning. Before going to sleep, Zaerini contemplated the young noblewoman. There was no doubt in her mind that Nalia signified the Page of Cups from her latest Reading. The attitude of well-meaning snobbery was exactly the same. Yet the Reading told me I should try to get along with her, despite her being annoying. And I do feel sorry for her, I guess. I still have no idea what that bit about her embracing Death is supposed to mean though…she’s not about to die, is she? Annoying she might be, but I wouldn’t wish that on her. But somehow that doesn’t feel right. Other parts of the Reading had certainly come true. The bits about Ployer, the bits about the Harp, broken and corrupted. And no matter what Jaheira might think I don’t feel the least bit guilty about Softy eating that assassin. Then there had been the part about Rage. Korgan, of course. The Reading said he’d lead me to something very important, something that I should make sure to keep around. It has to be the Nether Scroll. I suppose Eddie knows what he’s doing with that thing. At least I hope he does. The part of the Reading that involved the wizard still worried her though, very much so. And then there had been the things that Irenicus had said… That I attract murder, and murderers. That those I love will suffer because of me. But they won’t…will they?

She fell asleep then, and dreamt. She was standing in a great hall, but there were no doors or windows in sight anywhere. Nor was there any furniture. What there was, was statues. Hundreds of them, men, women and children. Most were strangers, though now and then it seemed she could just glimpse a familiar face, out of the corner of her eye. Whenever she turned around however, she would be unable to spot it again, the faces of friends and family lost in a sea of anonymous strangers. Having wandered for a while, she sat down on the floor, waiting for something to happen. And something will happen. It always does, in this kind of dream.

“Life…is strength.” Just those simple words, uttered in the calmest way possible, and yet it was enough to make her heart beat wildly and make her skin feel icy cold with fear. Without thinking, she leapt to her feet, looking about herself, her hand on her sword. He’s…he’s here! Somewhere, hiding among all these statues? Where is he? What does he want? And then she saw him. Irenicus was standing in front of her, watching her with in the same detached manner that he might watch a bug that had fallen onto its back. If he noticed her fear he ignored it, and the icy blue eyes behind the mask were the same as she remembered them from her worst nightmares. Like beautiful sapphires. Just as blue. Just as lifeless. The finely crafted leather mask kept the wizard’s face fully hidden as always, but it had a look of concentration about it, a look of focus. Much the same look as she had seen when he carried out his…experiments.

“This is not to be contested; it seems logical enough,” Irenicus went on in the dry and lecturing tones of a teacher explaining something to a dull-witted student. “You live; you affect your world.” He cocked his head to one side, the blue eyes narrowing with cold interest. “But is it what you need? You are... different... inside.”

“I know all about that,” the half-elf managed to say, despite the fact that her teeth were chattering as that icy gaze swept over her. “There is nothing you can teach me. I don’t want anything from you.” That’s what Immy said…he didn’t listen to her.

Irenicus simply shrugged, an oddly graceful movement for such a muscular man, and turned to point at one of the statues. A stout woman, clad in the simple dress of a farmer. “This woman lives and has strength of a sort.” Long fingers trailed along the arm of the statue, up across the cheek, as in a horrible parody of a lover’s caress. “She lost her parents to plague, her husband to war, but she persevered.” The mage studied the statue carefully, looking deeply into the unseeing stone eyes as he cupped the woman’s stone chin. “Her farm has prospered, her name is respected, and her children are fed and safe. She lived as she thought she should.” He turned towards Rini again, letting go of the statue. “And now, she is dead.”

The statue exploded noiselessly, disintegrating into a cloud of fine, white dust, and the startled bard jumped backwards, half expecting to be next. No…he doesn’t want me dead, does he? He wants something else, something worse…please don’t let him just have killed some poor woman simply in order to prove a point, please don’t let that part be real… “You killed her!” she breathed, unable to take her eyes of the wizard. “You…you just killed her! Who are you, that you could do a thing like that?”

Was there a flicker of brief annoyance in the glacial blue eyes at this departure from the script? “That is of no consequence,” Irenicus said, his voice even more monotone than before. “No more than she was. She was simply an…example. Her land will be divided, her children will move on, and she will be forgotten. She lived a "good" life, but she had no power. She was a slave to death.” Now he was coming closer towards her, striding fast, and before she knew it he was holding her tightly by the shoulders, staring down into her face, and she knew she should do something, should fight, but the cold, the cold was paralyzing her, making it hard to think…to move. The wizard’s fingers were trailing along her jawline now, much as they had with the statue, curiously moving upwards to the tip of her ear, tugging curiously at her red hair, and it made her want to scream. It was nothing like Reiltar, not sexual in any way, but in some way it was even worse. He might as well have been touching some exotic animal, investigating its fur and claws, not caring in the least what the animal thought about it. “I wonder if you are destined to be forgotten,” he mused. “Will your life fade in the shadow of greater beings? You are born of murder, the very essence of that which takes life. You have power, if you wish it. You will learn to use it.”

There was something, something about all of this that tugged at Zaerini’s memories, screaming warnings. It’s wrong…it’s all wrong somehow…if only I could see… And then it came to her. That phrase…’you will learn’. “You’re not him!” she said. “You’re not Irenicus, only a…a mirror image of him. I know you…father. What’s the matter, don’t think you can scare me on your own anymore? Have to masquerade as a mere mortal to pull it off? But I know you now, and none of this is real!”

For the first time emotion sprang into those blue eyes, raging anger, and they weren’t blue any longer, but a smooth and insectile black. “Really?” hissed the thing pretending to be Irenicus. “But the consequences are so very real.” Imoen suddenly appeared beside him, screaming as lightning tore at her, charring her skin, setting her hair ablaze.

“NO!” Zaerini screamed, tears running down her cheeks. “It’s not real! None of it is, and you can’t touch me! Do you hear me? You can’t! I won’t allow it!”

The thing with the mask smirked at her, needle-sharp teeth becoming visible behind the leather mask. “Your actions affect so many others than yourself. You will come to realize how little choice you have.” Slowly it became gradually transparent, fading from sight as the statues burst into dust, one by one. “You will do what you must, become what you must, or others will pay for your cowardice.” The last thing she heard before she woke up was that calm voice speaking into her ear. “You will accept the gifts offered to you.”

Zaerini didn’t sleep much for what remained of the night, remembering her sire’s words. He’s right about one thing at least, she thought. Life is strength, and as long as I live I won’t become a slave to his wishes. I won’t. No matter which face he’s using.