An Enjoyable Partnership: A Tale of Two Mages
Part Ten
Nalia ran up to Edwin’s room, suddenly worried. She heard Andorel call after her, but raced on. When she had called him, it was as if he wasn’t there at all. She didn’t even know for certain where he was- she was guessing he was in his room. The familiar link normally told her exactly where to find him at any given time. If the familiar link was weakening, something must be wrong, badly wrong.
She reached his door and turned the handle. Locked! Hastily, she reached for her lockpicks picked the lock open. She kicked the door open and rushed in.
“Edwin, are you alright? I couldn’t…Talona’s tits!” She cursed, and stopped dead in the doorway.
Edwin turned around to face her, a fixed smile on his lips. He held his jewelled dagger in his hand. It dripped foaming liquid onto the floor. Soapy water.
“You’ve…you’ve…” She stammered, still out of breath.
“I have shaved my hair off, Nalia de’Arnise.” He said, his newly shaven head and chin gleaming in the light from the window.
“Why?” Nalia demanded. “You looked better before.”
He took a step towards her. She resisted the temptation to step back. “You think I should look like a mere slave?”
Edwin, can you hear me?
“A…a slave?” She asked. She noticed that his newly shaven head possessed tattoos under the old hairline, tattoos that had been hidden before. One in particular, an ornate ring of barbs, glowed slightly when in shadow. A magical tattoo, popular in Thay, she believed. “I…didn’t know you had tattoos.”
Edwin ignored the comment. “Only slaves have long hair. I refuse to be demeaned any longer.” He turned back to the mirror, and ran his hand over his smooth skull.
If you can hear me, say something.
“What are you talking about?”
“I am a mage, de’Arnise.” He said, eyes glittering in the mirror. “Now I look like one.”
You can’t hear me, can you?
And very distantly, on the edge of her mental ‘hearing’:
help me.
Edwin? What’s wrong?
Silence.
Edwin?
“Edwin?” Nalia quavered, “There’s something very wrong, can’t you see? You’re…you’re acting strange.”
He whipped round to face her, and she realised just how pale he looked. She suddenly felt sick and cold. She knew he had been distracted recently and a bit forgetful, but she had put it down to grief over his permanent exile from Thay- that was bound to affect anyone, right? But now, she wasn’t so sure. Was it more than that? She’d never been very good at the whole empathy thing. Sweet Ilmater, had she been so blind? A nasty certainty started to form. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she had ignored so many warning signs- the memory lapses, the strange distractedness, the creased robe. Her heart sank further as she realised something else: He had always had a habit of talking to himself, muttering darkly in a way that made her wonder if he even knew he was doing it, but he hadn’t talked to himself in days. Had he changed that much?
“No, I am acting normally. I have simply realised it is time to become, to be the archmage I was destined to be.” He smiled, his eyes horribly blank, sunk deep and shadowed. He looked positively ill. In fact, he looked like a…like a…
Nalia’s stomach lurched as she completed the horrible thought: like a lich.
“Have…have you been doing some experimenting you hadn’t told me about?” She asked nervously.
He suddenly snarled angrily, and Nalia took a step back. “Why should I tell you everything that I do? Since when did you earn the right, little noble?” Edwin advanced a pace towards her, and she took another step backwards. “Go back to your little estate, and your toy servants, de’Arnise.”
“Edwin, there…there is something very wrong with you, can’t you see?” She said in a trembling voice. “I think…something you have done, some experiment…you need to see a priest.”
“I will see no priest. I need no priest.” He sneered. Suddenly, he blinked, and shook his head. He closed his eyes together tightly, and opened them again, and now they had more life in them than before. He reached a desperate hand to her. “Nalia, I…”
“Don’t touch me!”
He shuddered, and his eyes glittered coldly again, the brief spark gone. “Why should I wish to?”
“Please listen to me, ‘Dwin: you need to see a priest. This is wrong, can’t you see? Don’t…don’t you trust me any more?”
He mouth curled with disgust. “I never trusted you, de’Arnise.”
Nalia gave a single sob, and ran away, away from the ghoul who had been her first lover only hours earlier.
Edwin turned back to listen to the mirror’s whispered commands. It would not be long now.
***
Nalia ran into the library and started flicking through books, randomly grabbing at the nearest on the shelves, trying to find a clue, to find somewhere to start looking. Something on liches. Please don’t let it be so- please don’t let my ‘Dwin turn himself into a lich, please…
She searched the shelves, first under L, and then under U. There, she found what she was looking for: Ars Necromancae: Propugnaculum Contra Amortuus. It was a very old book, no doubt bought by some previous besieged de’Arnise in a time of great need. There were some rather disturbing teeth marks on the cover, but she flicked through the pages quickly, trying to find the section she wanted. No, calm down. This won’t do any good. She needed to be calm. She took a deep breath, and looked through the index. Finally, she found the page she wanted and started reading the archaic text with a sinking stomach.
Nalia hurriedly skipped ahead a few paragraphs.
Nalia paused to curse all self-righteous moralising wizards, and skipped ahead again.
This sounded too familiar. Nalia gulped, but she didn’t stop reading.
Nalia slammed the book closed with a puff of dust. Yes, she should have known that- all liches had a soul jar, didn’t they? So it made sense that anyone wanting to become a lich would have a jar all ready. All she had to do was find it, and destroy it- and she’d get her Edwin back. Her Edwin? Yes. Her Edwin. He was hers; and she was his.
She swallowed hard, and a nasty thought suddenly occurred to her: What if a lich was the only thing that could defeat the Rakshasa? It was possible. Liches were so powerful, and Andorel’s party seemed sure that they couldn’t defeat the rakshasa themselves. If Edwin became a lich, they’d all be saved. It was what he wanted, after all. Who was she to stop him?
No. That was an unworthy thought. She tightened her jaw and looked up proudly. It was beneath her to even think of such a thing. She would save Edwin from himself- no matter what the cost.
***
Edwin sat crosslegged on the whitewashed floor of the mage lab, his shaven head resting against the cool stone of the cellar wall behind him. His forehead pounded agonizingly, and his breath came in short gasps.
Right now, he could think. But for how long? The cool stone of the wall helped, but the times when he could remember, when he was lucid, were getting shorter and shorter. Why had the decay suddenly accelerated like this? He also seemed to have shaved his hair off, but while that once would have been serious in itself, it hardly mattered now. He had upset Nalia too, but he wasn’t sure how. Perhaps…perhaps that was a good thing. She would stay away from him- she wouldn’t get hurt. He didn’t want her to get hurt. She might even find a cure. It was possible. He had come to respect her resourcefulness, her lust for life, her wicked but well-hidden sense of humour…
“No…” He croaked, realising a horrible truth. His eyes filled with tears of sorrow, and he had no willpower to stop them, nor any wish to.
“I…love her.” He hissed, looking upwards in sorrow. He threw his head back and howled the words out in the silent room. “I LOVE HER!” His long fingers scrabbled at the floor, grazing nails that were already ragged and bitten. He raised his trembling hands to hide his face.
“I love Nalia.” He whispered, voice low and hopeless.
Why, oh why, did he have to find such a beautiful jewel when he was losing his very self? It was too late, too late…
Too late for what? He shuddered. It was happening again! His thoughts were dying…his precious mind…
Edwin shook the tears away, and stood up, eyes blank once again.
***
Nalia burst into Edwin’s room. It had to be in here, it had to be. Where to look? Where to look first? Nalia dashed over to the wardrobe and yanked the door open. She had to be quick; he could be back at any moment. She knelt down, and hastily rummaged through the shoes and debris at the bottom. Her hand touched cloth, and she paused. Red cloth, ragged strips of it with exquisite golden embroidery unravelling at the edges and bleeding out of the cloth. There were other pieces that had knife cuts in them, as if they had been stabbed, over and over. Nalia felt a lump of despair grow in her throat. No, she couldn’t afford to be distracted. It wasn’t here- time to look elsewhere. The bedside table perhaps.
She strode over to it, briefly checking the table top. There was a framed portrait there of a man, roughly done in what looked like charcoal. The Dark eyes glittered with humour in the face. Nalia recognised it immediately; she had never met him, but she had shared enough dreams with Edwin to know his beloved tutor when she saw him. She smiled sadly, and her eyes were drawn to another object: a small pile of ash in a tiny glass jar. Was this the soul jar? She examined it closely, and noticed a tiny fragment of red paper. It was that Howler- he had kept it all this time! Nalia found herself blinking back tears, and moved on.
She had to concentrate. She opened the drawer. This felt so oddly intrusive, poking about in his valued possessions. It was for the best- remember that. She reached into the bedside table, and his fingers touched something soft and furry. She swallowed fearfully, and drew it out.
It was a small plush dragon, a purple one. Nalia held it in her hand as if it was a piece of exquisite glass crystal. The beady eyes stared back at her from the cute little smiling face. The stitching was fairly poor, in thick yellow yarn, an obvious first attempt at sewing. Around its neck was a collar bearing the name ‘Snappy’. Nalia just stood, staring at it, tears pouring down her face now.
“What are you doing, de’Arnise?”
Nalia squeaked and dropped the cuddly toy quickly. “I was…I was…”
Edwin walked up to her, robes rustling in the quiet room. “You were investigating my room. Why?”
“I wanted…I wanted…to find out…why you were acting so strange.” Edwin stared at her, and Nalia felt her mouth drying up under his gaze.
“I am not acting strangely as you say. I have merely found myself.” He glanced down at himself, and smiled malevolently. “Yes, myself.”
“You…this…is not right. I was…trying to find your phylactery. To stop this…this transformation.”
“You would try to interfere? I cannot allow that.” Edwin raised his arm and pointed it at her. “You cannot stop what has started here.” His fingers started to glow with power, and he muttered a few archaic words she didn’t recognise, but didn’t need to.
Nalia backed away from the glowing hand. He’s going to kill me. She thought despairingly. He’s a more powerful mage than I am. I can’t win…I can’t win.
The light surrounding his hand continued to grow in strength, but his arm started to tremble. A spasm of pain passed over his face, and he lowered his hand. He raised tormented eyes to her and clutched his head.
“No.” He croaked. “I…am not…becoming a lich…” He stuttered, forcing each word past clenched teeth. “I…think it is…the rak…the rak…” His head jerked as if he was a doll on a string. “Stop me…kill me…before…”
Edwin shuddered all over, and was calm again. “I need not kill you. You no longer matter.” The blank eyes became melancholy and inward-looking, and he turned away from her. “All that matters is death and pain.” He said, and left the room.
Nalia let out her breath in an explosive gasp. He…it…was right; she had to act. So the rakshasa were close, and getting closer, tormenting Edwin as they came. How had they got hold of his mind? Did they plan on using him to kill her? After Andorel had arrived, she had done some background reading. A passage sprang into her memory: Rakshasa enjoy the suffering of their victims as much as the meal they provide. They especially enjoy causing strife in peaceful communities, and consider making friends kill each other a great sport.
Nalia snarled under her breath. She wouldn’t let them use Edwin and her for sport. Come what may, she would not let them win.
She needed a breathing space, some time to think. Her eyes were drawn to the glass of water by Edwin’s bed.
***
“And then, ya see, that nutty druid- our one, not the other one- cast this big cloud of, like insects, and she went daft, scratching all over and screaming…”
Nalia poked at her evening meal. She wasn’t even slightly hungry. Edwin was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn’t at all surprised at that.
“…You should have seen her! It was so funny. He hit her over the head with that massive stick of his, and that left her on the ground. Heh, no more shadow druids at that grove.”
Nalia tried to look like she was listening to Andorel’s diatribe, but didn’t really succeed. She was waiting for something.
“No matter what the reason, killing is always killing, Andorel.” Valygar said darkly. “I only fight when necessary, and I never take pleasure in it.”
“Huh! That I don’t believe. What about Tolgerias?”
“It was my duty to rid of the world of such evil.”
“Ridding the world of evil is not a duty, it is a pleasure! It makes us all heroes.”
“Right, Minsc! I’m with you.”
“The world would be a better place if there were fewer evil mages.” He said pointedly, glaring at Nalia. “How is your familiar today?”
“Valygar! Leave Edwin out of this.” Nalia demanded.
“Getting a little vehement aren’t we, Nalia?” Jan chuckled, and then cleared his throat suddenly. Edwin had just entered the hall through the double doors. His robes rustled slightly, as if he was standing in a slight draft.
“Na…” He said, and then raised one hand looking at it in surprise before keeling over onto the stone floor.
About time. “Oh, dear, he must have eaten some artichokes last night.” Nalia said with false brightness. “He’s highly allergic to them.”
“Are artichokes those little black beetles that were in the stew?” Andorel asked eagerly.
“No!”
“Oh.”
Anomen leapt to his feet. “I am sure I am able to heal him of his ills, my Lady.”
“No!” Nalia shouted, then cleared her throat. “Erm, no, that’s alright. He…has a potion that he keeps in his bedroom. Yes. I’ll get a servant to help. Hamdeth? Can you help me, um, return Edwin to his room?”
“Certainly, my Lady.”
They grabbed an arm of the recumbent wizard and hauled him upright. “Gods, Edwin. You’re too heavy.” Nalia muttered, and then between them, they dragged him out of the hall. Behind them, the group of adventurers started chatting again.
“Wizards! Wimps to a man, huh?”
“Mages do have their place in battle, Andorel, though they are more assuredly not front line troops…”
“To the cellars, Hamdeth.” Nalia said, and then whispered in Edwin’s ear. “I’m sorry, ‘Dwin.” His eyelids flickered briefly.
“Yes miss.”
“He’ll be asleep for a long time, that was a strong sedative.” Nalia remarked. “I had no choice, you know.”
“Yes miss, I know.” Hamdeth said with a certain weariness,as they awkwardly dragged the sleeping mage down the stone steps to the cellars.
“Thank you for putting it in his water for me.”
“As you said, miss, we had no choice.”
“No.” Nalia bit her lip. “In here, I think.”
They hauled Edwin into one of the small cells of the dungeon and placed him on the bed. He was still fast asleep, breathing silently.
“You may go now, Hamdeth. Send a messenger to get the Priest Thaddeus. He’ll help, he always does.”
“But, surely, it is dangerous to…”
“Go!” Nalia barked, then coughed. “And, um, thank you for your help.”
Hamdeth bowed and walked away. Nalia saw him shake his head slightly. Nalia bit her lip, and walked over to the sleeping wizard. Even in such a deep sleep, he looked pale and wan, the dim light of the dungeon making his white skin stand out starkly, like a marble statue. Nalia reached into her belt pouch, and took out Snappy the dragon. She placed the fluffy toy snugly by the wizard’s side, and then turned to leave. She hesitated, and turned back. Kneeling down, she kissed him gently on the cheek. Did he smile, there, just briefly?
“You’ll be better, ‘Dwin. I promise I’ll make you better.”
Nalia took a deep breath, and stepped back through the door of the cell. She swung the door shut with a clang, and locked the complex, unpickable padlock.
She had done the right thing, she knew she had. It still hurt so much, though, seeing him caged like a prisoner. A distant sound caught her ear- a servant, cheerfully whistling a tune in the root cellar. It seemed so odd, that cheerful little tune echoing through the vaults of the Keep’s dungeons. She listened carefully, recognising the tune: A Tale of Two Mages. Their Song.
Except, of course, it was no longer two mages. Nalia rubbed her eyes tiredly. There was only one mage now. And she was on her own, facing a dreadful enemy, and possibly death. She found herself sadly humming the tune with the distant servant.
Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of one mage,
Abandoned and low.
