Chapter 44: The Lady
Ember crossed the bridge that led out of Baldur's gate at sunset. The road led south from that point, but she didn't follow it; instead, she walked straight ahead into the woods. In the fading twilight, she stumbled over roots and smacked into branches, but she doggedly continued onwards until she found a stream. She followed it for a while, feeling more than seeing her way between the trees, until she found a quiet pool at a point where the stream had curved in on itself.
There, she fell to her knees, and began to pray.
---
The trees were lit up by a soft, golden radiance. At first, Ember thought it was dawn, but then she looked up and saw that the sky was still black; stars glinted between the treetops. Must have dozed off, she thought. She sat up, and saw the source of the light; a small flame stood out of the ground in front of her, at the edge of the pool. It burned brighter than any fire she'd ever seen; more golden than red, and flickered slightly. A unicorn stood beside the flame. Its dark eyes regarded Ember kindly, and its pale coat shone in the light from the flame. A golden horn rose from its forehead.
"Is this a dream?" Ember asked.
"Perhaps," the unicorn said.
"Who are you?"
"You called. I have come."
Ember stared confusedly at the unicorn. "Is this a vision?" she asked.
"Perhaps," the unicorn said. Its mouth did not move when it spoke, Ember noticed.
Vision, dream; whatever it is, it is a response. As much has she'd hoped for one, she hadn't dared expect one. To get one so soon, and like this, was almost overwhelming. She forced herself to calm down and focus on the unicorn; she didn't have an actual answer yet, and it might as well be no as yes.
"Tell me, child, why do you seek the Quiet One?" the unicorn asked.
"There is too much death around me, and within me," Ember said. "I must change that."
"You realize that she cannot change you. She cannot take away what you are," the unicorn said.
"I know. I must change myself, understand myself better." Ember paused. "I wish to serve life," she said quietly. "I want to offer her my service, if she'll have it."
The unicorn nodded solemnly. "I see your heart, child. You speak truly. Know that the Mother of the Waters will not come. She cannot accept your pledge."
Ember's heart fell in her chest. "Wh-why not?" she asked.
"Your nature can never wholly mesh with hers. Her tenets would chafe you, yet she can tolerate no less. You would fail her, or you would break yourself trying to live up to her wishes; Eldath does not want a servant who will not be happy and fulfilled in his or her servitude. For you, a life in her service would ultimately only bring pain, for both of you."
"Must I follow my nature, then?" Ember asked despairingly.
"Child, you called; I came. Do you not wonder why? Do you know who I am?"
"I'm... I'm not sure," Ember said.
The unicorn looked at her, and blinked once, slowly. "I am the Lady of this forest. Of all forests. Do you know me now?"
Mielikki.
Ember nodded, her mouth very dry all of a sudden.
"You said you wished to serve life, and I saw truth in that. You did not wish to serve Eldath, or peace. Your heart desired to serve life and nature, through her guidance."
Ember nodded again.
"She will not have you, for you would have had to completely turn your life around to be hers, and would have been no closer to balance than you are now," the unicorn - the goddess - said. "I know you understand that death is a part of life's cycle. There can be no spring without winter."
"Or predators without prey," Ember said.
"Exactly," the unicorn said. "Predators can run wild, like the dire wolves have, and must then be dealt with; when things are as they should, they are a vital part of nature's balance."
"I am running wild," Ember said. "At least, that's what it feels like."
"But you are no dire wolf, and are not to be dealt with. I cannot tell you your place in things. What I can give you is the chance to serve life, to be a servant of nature. I can accept your pledge, in the very manner that you would offer it to Eldath."
Ember blinked. "But I didn't even call for you," she said, her voice edged with hope.
"Your heart called for me, child, even though you did not know it. I represent the manner in which you wish to serve, far more than the Quiet One or even the Oak Father. Thus, I came. My followers know combat, but they also know when to not fight. My followers know both life and death, and know when one should yield to the other. My followers know and protect nature, but also respect the world of people." The unicorn seemed to smile. "In my service, you could learn to find balance in yourself; moderate your own nature, rather than crush it."
"You'll... you'll have me?" Ember asked.
"You must cleanse your hands first."
Ember looked down and noticed with dismay that her hands were still dripping with blood. "I've tried," she said dejectedly. "It won't wash off."
"Nonetheless, you must be cleansed," the unicorn said, looking pointedly at her.
Ember stared at her hands in her lap. It's a test, isn't it? If I can't purge myself of this, I can't serve properly. She was tempted to try the pond, but somehow she suspected that not even the presence of a goddess would make water wash it off any more than it had in every night that had passed since the bandit camp. She closed her eyes and recalled how that had felt; the glee she'd felt as her sword had cut down the half-asleep bandits in the tent, a glee that had nothing to do with the joy of a good, clean fight. They'd been unarmored, defenseless. It'd been murder. In a way, it was surprising that they were not walking through her dreams, rather than her merely having their blood on her hands.
She recalled their visit to the Peaceman in his grove, how she'd felt when she stood near the giant tree. She'd vaguely contemplated this path ever since that moment, but as she'd felt herself change, she'd become more and more hesitant to act upon it. At the same time, their travels through forests and the things they'd seen in them had strengthened that wish. With the dreams of blood on her hands, she'd felt there was no choice until Elminster reminded her that there was. Who would have thought he'd ever say anything of use to me, she mused.
Her decision had been cemented yesterday, after the skirmish with Yago. The murderous impulse in her had been stronger than ever; she'd ached to skewer the old mage, and her Sharran sword had whispered under the roar in her veins. Forcing herself to not kill had felt like ripping herself apart; she'd known she couldn't continue with things the way they were. Still, I did manage to beat those impulses on my own yesterday, even though it was close.
She looked at her hands again. I have to purge them, so I can start over. And purge them I will. She reached towards the golden flame, and thrust her hands into it. The flame sparked and sputtered, and rose higher than before. The flames changed colour, becoming flickering reds and oranges with faint traces of smoke that hadn't been there before.
Ember gritted her teeth and kept her hands in the flame; the pain, near excruciating though it was, wasn't quite as bad as she'd imagined it'd be. She locked eyes with the unicorn, focusing on the deity rather than on the pain, and tried hard not to think about what the fire might be doing to her hands. The unicorn gazed back at her, an inscrutable look on her face.
Several minutes later, the flames turned golden again, and the traces of smoke vanished. Ember pulled her hands from the fire. They were whole, it seemed, and covered with a thick layer of ash. She immediately plunged them into the pool and sighed with relief as they cooled down. The pain faded almost immediately.
Ember held her hands in the water for a little longer than what felt necessary, then pulled them out. She stared confusedly at them; the ashes had not been washed away, but had absorbed water and become a black, viscous substance that coated her hands as thoroughly as the original blood had. She picked at the black liquid; it felt slick, and clung to her skin. She looked at the unicorn, who looked back.
I guess I can't discard it that easily, she thought. There must be some meaning to this. She looked around, and noticed a bare patch of earth between herself and the flame. Memory stirred in her of Winthrop sprinkling ashes on his wife's flower beds, to make them grow better. Can't hurt to try, she thought, and dug her hands into the bare patch. The soil was loose and slightly dry, and moved easily between her fingers. She buried her hands as far as the black coating covered them.
Something moved between her fingers. It felt like worms or tendrils of some sort, but wasn't wholly unpleasant. The surface of the bare patch broke, and tiny green stems worked their way out of the dirt. Leaves unfurled from the stems as they grew, and the tips of the stems swelled into buds. By the time the growth stopped, the bare patch had been replaced by a cluster of white flowers.
Ember carefully pulled her hands out from the soil under the flowers. Her hands were clean.
The unicorn seemed to be smiling at her. "Well done, child," she said. "Close your eyes, and I will show you what you must do."
---
When Ember woke up, it truly was dawn; the clouds were golden like the flame in her dream, and the sky had taken on pink hues. She frowned slightly; she could recall the dreamvision perfectly, but she didn't really feel different. Nothing felt different.
Was it just a dream, after all?
She glanced around, and her eyes fell upon a patch of glimmering white flowers that she was reasonably certain had not been there the night before.
She sat up. The faint clinking sound of her chainmail reminded her of the presence of her armour; she'd forgotten she was still wearing it. Metal, she realized. I shouldn't be wearing this much metal anymore. She took the armor off, closed her eyes, and tried to listen to what her other senses told her.
Shortly thereafter she was laying back on the grass that surrounded the pool, laughing with relief and delight.