Swamp Thing

A day’s march had led them to the temple, with some help from Edwin’s magic. “These swamps all look alike,” the mage muttered as his robes dragged into a patch of slime. “What I wouldn’t do for a teleportation spell.”

The temple’s walls lay ahead, crumbling in the swamp’s humid air. The pair had dodged patrols of fire giants coming from the mountains to the south, no doubt reinforcements from Yaga-Shura’s lair. They had met almost no other signs of life as they went deeper into the forest, alerting Tybalt’s senses to the unnaturalness of his surroundings. “Be ready for anything,” he warned Edwin as they approached the ruins.

“As if anything could sneak up on Edwin Odesseiron, master of the arcane arts,” Edwin boasted.

“Tybalt, you have come,” a voice said from a patch of mist ahead. Edwin jumped.

“Who’s there?” the Bhaalspawn asked. The Equalizer was in his hand.

“Don’t you remember your own foster father?” the voice demanded as the mist cleared. Gorion stood before them, composed seemingly of gray mist as much as the air around him. “Have you forgotten all that I had taught you, brought you up to be? Have you forgotten me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to save you from your destiny, Tybalt. I tried to turn you into a force for good. And what have you done? Carved a path of blood and murder wherever you go!”

“I know.” Tybalt sighed. “I cannot stop my heritage any more than I can bring you to life. I have tried fighting against it, but for nothing. Now, at least, I am using it to an advantage. Soon these troubles won’t face the world anymore, Bhaal’s threat will be gone.”

“But there will still be you,” the shade insisted. “You will remain and sow more havoc once there is no one to stop you.”

“No,” Tybalt said, taking a step back. “That’s not what I want.”

“But it is already beginning.” Gorion gestured and another form materialized in the mist.

“Why did you kill me?” Imoen asked, her body streaked with cuts. “I didn’t have to die.”

“No,” Tybalt whispered, shaking his head in horror. “It was the only way…”

“You could have found another way! There was time, you just chose to kill me. One less sister to fight later on.”

“Imoen, please…stop…” He had fallen to his knees and stared at his dead sister through tears.

“She is not the only one you killed through your actions.” Gorion said.

Haer’Dalis stepped out of the gloom. “Have I found you at last, my raven? Ah, were it but a few short days ago and this might have been a more joyful reunion.”

“Haer’Dalis? I left you safe in Suldanessellar.”

“Aye, but you know this sparrow has never been one for cages. When you did not return, I traveled in your wake, but found only the chaos you engender. Do not fret, ‘twas a marvelous sight for this poor bard’s eyes as he left this world.”

“No! This isn’t real! None of you are real! I have done nothing!”

“Then why do you feel this way, my child?” Gorion asked, approaching. “You know what we say is true, you sense it in your tainted soul. Let us ease our suffering, the suffering you brought to us. Give in, let us taste your divine blood.” The shades floated closer.

Tybalt dropped his head, uncaring, as the words of the dead rang through his heart. A burst of fire flared before his eyes and he looked up to see Edwin tossing spells at the shades. “Edwin, no!” He staggered to his feet, but by that time the shades had been banished back to their restless dwellings. “Edwin, why did you kill them?”

“Those were no departed souls,” Edwin snorted. “(I would have thought a demigod’s sense better than that). That wraith almost had a chance at sucking you dry. I suggest next time paying better attention to your surroundings. Many such spirits are attracted by the lure of your father’s old temple.”

“Wraith? Then…then it wasn’t true?”

“(Ah, the monkey begins to see). Yes, a common enough trick, manipulation of the emotions to gain power, something only the lowest would resort to (I shall have to keep it in mind). Come, the answer to the giant’s invulnerability lies within.”

Tybalt remained shaken as he entered the temple. Despite Edwin’s claims, he felt that the shades had been as real as the people they mirrored. Even if they were liars, their words had stuck in his heart, and refused to leave. Was he wrong in pursuing this course of action? He had an intense desire to ensure that Haer’Dalis was alive, but had no way of doing so. He could return to the elven city, but the bard might have been long gone. And he had a task to do here, first. He had allowed Yaga-Shura into Saradush, it was his duty to kill the giant.

“Ah, visitors for old Nyalee,” a ragged old crone cackled as they approached a ruined altar. Flames burnt across its surface, fed from an unknown source. “Seeking my son, I think they are.”

“We come here for knowledge of Yaga-Shura, witch,” Edwin stated. “We care nothing for your son. Tell us everything you know about the giant before we pry it out of you.”

Nyalee cackled again. “Ah, but Yaga-Shura is my son.”

“Your son? Impossible!” Tybalt exclaimed.

The old woman shook her head. “No, I did not birth him, but raise him I did. Stole him from the crib and taught him the ways of his father. I prepared him for his path, and what does he do but betray poor, old Nyalee.” Her wrinkled face folded over on itself as she pouted. “He took what I could offer and abandoned me! He even stole my heart!”

“We would prefer not to hear of your unsightly family relationships,” Edwin shuddered.

“Ha! No, Nyalee did not care in that way for her boy. Yaga-Shura stole Nyalee’s heart!” She pointed at her chest, and indeed there was a slight indentation apparent beneath the rags she wore. “Taught him how to remove his heart to become invincible, I did!”

“So he cannot be harmed without his heart? (I must learn how to perform such a ritual for myself. Not to say I have any fear of being bested in battle, but every little bit helps). Where is it?”

The crone nodded. “Bring me his heart and I will teach my boy a lesson! He keeps it safe in his fortress in the mountains. Bring his heart and mine and I will help you bring him down!”

They headed out. “Well, now that mystery is solved,” Edwin said cheerfully. “Assuming we steal the heart from under his followers’ noses, this should be child’s play.”

Tybalt grunted, still thinking on the shade, and he knew that this small victory would not overshadow the defeat he had inflicted upon himself.