Jump to content


32. Prism of Evereska


  • Please log in to reply
No replies to this topic

#1 Guest_Kulyok_*

Posted 01 March 2009 - 06:51 PM

"We are swerving from the established route," Jaheira frowned, checking with her map. "I think that we have gone too far south."
The party stood on the rocky plains, not far from Nashkel mines, once again. The sun stood in its zenith, the heat was unbearable, and the flies and dust mingled in the air alike. Nobody enjoyed their journey, but Edwin Odesseiron, odoriferous with expensive perfume, had the hardest time of all.
"Is this what I have to work with? Pathetic," the wizard sneered, brushing dead insects off his robe. "A druid that cannot orient herself in the residential neighborhood! I am sure even the bad-smelling and hamster-wielding companion of yours could do better."
"I was not born here," Jaheira said quietly. "And I would watch your tongue if I were you, Red Wizard. It would be unfortunate if you were to disappear under a rock somewhere."
"Aye, you can mock me whist we are in the very heart of your domain, druid," Edwin spat out the word with great contempt, "but do not push me very far. Even here I am more than capable of ending your life."
Jaheira shrugged. "I doubt you would find the trip back to Nashkel a peaceful one. Do not anger me here, my patience is not unlimited."
"Without your nagging, it will be a sleep of ages. (And make no mistake, I shall not forget this interaction.)"
Why, he is not that intimidating, after all, Ala thought, suppressing a smile. This habit of mumbling under his breath is pretty funny. She looked at the ranger. The large man was animatedly chatting with Imoen, showing his hamster to her. The girl was laughing and feeding the little animal some crumbs left from the breakfast. Boo, for that was the rodent's name, chirped happily. I guess he, too, fits into the group for now. Oh, I really don't want to think about what happens when we find this Dynaheir...
Before turning west, the adventurers came to a sudden stop. An old, abandoned mine shaft blocked their way. Next to it, they could make out a single figure. As they came closer, they saw a thin, ragged man in his forties or so, whose threadbare clothes and disheveled hair did not square with thin, aristocratic face and hands that bore the remains of craftily deposited manicure. He was swinging its arms and occasionally giving out incomprehensible cries, paying no attention to his surroundings.
"Prism!" Imoen whispered excitably to Ala's ear. "It's that artist who stole the emeralds, he fits to the description!"
"Oh, good," Edwin nodded with some satisfaction. "I've heard of this deranged individual. Let's kill him quick and be about my business."
"Ah, beauteous creature! You are my masterpiece!" A high, trembling voice interrupted their conversation. "Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!"
The artist was fussing around a statue of an elvish-looking woman. Two green stones sparkled in her eye sockets, looking out of place in the middle of a rough grey lump.
"Yes, deranged, as I said," Edwin shrugged. "Why do you even care? I doubt you appreciate art, and this statue considerably lacks in the upper-chest area, anyway. Even milkmaids in Thay look better."
Prism sharply turned around at his words, shielding the statue with his hands. "Wait, there is someone here! Who are you? 'Twas that relentless Greywolf who sent you, wasn't it?"
"We have nothing to do with anyone named Greywolf," Jaheira replied, "and nor would we want to."
"Thank Deneir, I thought I was done in," the artist spluttered. He nervously twisted his arms. "I am not cut out for a life on the run. Mayhap you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems. I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me."
"T-that is all good and well," Khalid inserted timidly, "but we ourselves promised to search for the emeralds and bring them back."
"I hate to agree with the druid's whining husband, but I do not wish to dally around while he finishes this lump of clay, either," Edwin complained loudly. "Can't you all step aside and let me fireball him? Or is this simple action beyond your meager level of comprehension?"
Prism opened his mouth, but a figure emerged from the nearby bushes, and the artist froze, trembling, as a sturdy, middle-aged warrior approached them.
"I have come for you, Prism," the fighter croaked.
"No! Not yet! My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!" The sculptor burst into tears.
The fighter looked around. "I am Greywolf, and your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you? Who are you, fools?"
Ala stepped forward. "We are here to return the emeralds he stole," she said, "but not the man himself. I intend to let him go."
Greywolf gave out a short, bark-like laugh. "Prism will be going nowhere this day. The justice done will come by the blade of my sword." He raised his sword and nearly fell, as a boy's figure jumped out from behind him.
"Hi. I'm Noober," the boy said proudly. "I wanted to talk to you all, but you left too quickly, and I followed you all the way from Nashkel. Nice place, huh?"
"What?" Greywolf roared. "Nobody interrupts Greywolf!"
"Ugh, I think I stepped in something," the boy carefully edged from the bounty hunter. "Those colors look pretty stupid on you," he pointed at Edwin. Without even waiting for the Red Wizard's answer, Noober turned to Minsc. "What's that big weapon for?"
"Have you walked this far just to insult everyone?" Ala asked incredulously.
"No," the boy absently replied. "Just to talk. I haven't had a conversation this long, well... ever!"
"I wonder why," Jaheira crossed her arms at the chest. "I think you'd better go home, boy."
"Rrraaaagh!" The bounty hunter finally lost his patience. "Prism will live a moment longer while I kill the lot of you!" Drawing his sword, he lunged for Noober. The boy squeaked and ran away.
"You will stop right there!" Jaheira cried to the bounty hunter, conjuring a creeping vine with a swish of her hand. Ala and Imoen readied their bows. Then a jet of bright orange flame shot past them, scorching Greywolf's face. Edwin have not been standing idle.
"Minsc would not allow you harm poor boy! Boo tells me Noober has a head wound, too!" Minsc rushed into battle, brandishing his sword. Khalid and Jaheira followed.
Greywolf proved to be a tough opponent, and soon both Khalid and Minsc were bleeding heavily. The battle was stopped by pure luck. A large pearly sphere left Edwin's fingers and made its way to the bounty hunter's face, stunning him into immobility. Khalid and Jaheira struck at the same time, and the bounty hunter sprawled on the ground.
"I thank you, for I cannot run from this place until my task is done," Prism exhaled in relief. "I have been using potions of speed to aid my work, and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not?" The artist stroke the statue fondly along her waist and hips, not letting his arm actually touch it. Then his face fell, and he bit his lip. "'Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!"
"Potions of Speed?" Jaheira's eyes widened. "He's a dead man walking! Three of these can kill an ogre!"
Ala, however, was interested in another thing. "Evereska, you say? I have a friend from here, Xan of Evereska, a Greycloak." The girl's hand instinctively darted towards a vial the elf left her. She hadn't found enough resolve to destroy it, she was too curious of its origin. "Have you perhaps heard about him?"
Before Prism had a chance to answer, however, Ala felt sudden warmth coming from the talisman. It became warmer and warmer, until it became unbearable to hold it. She let go...

Ala stared at her fingers in mute wonder. These were delicate and slender, but definitely male. Her body was clad in dark purple robes, and as Ala felt it, she found two small bags of spell components at her waist. Am I in Xan's body? His present... or his past? My Bhaalspawn 'gifts' again? The phrase "be careful what you wish for" has my name written all over it, I guess.
The girl looked around. She was standing in the great hall full of beautiful statues. It was decorated in green marble, and misty green light was coming through the transparent roof. Though she was indoors, Ala could feel slight breeze in her hair, and her nose caught the scent of forest herbs. As her eyes accommodated to the strange scenery, she had noticed other elves next to her, both male and female, all clad in light green armor or dark loose clothes of elegant design. She even saw some children in the corner, close to the walls. Is this a gathering of some sort? And where am I? A thought emerged, unbidden: the temple of Rillifane...
Ala raised her head and almost got blinded by the dazzling emerald glow. There was an elven woman standing on the dais in the middle of the hall, her features matching exactly those of the statue the girl saw moments before. But while Prism's emeralds shone with calm, soothing light, they still could not deliver this fierce brilliance, just looking at which made one's eyes hurt. There was a lancet stained-glass window right behind the woman's frame, and the sunrays fell through the elaborately carved patterns, emphasizing her silhouette. They rearranged themselves in a way that showed the elven woman in a very flattering light: a venerable goddess she seemed, who enlivened all things by her mere presence.
As the girl stared, the crowd parted, and she hastily stepped aside as two sets of sedan-chairs glided past, accompanied by a plaintive melody of arcane chanting. Two elven mages, dressed in plain grey robes, followed the objects with their arms outstretched, guiding them to the dais.
The covers were drawn aside, and Ala's new-found elven senses caught a massive wave of hostility, directed at the occupants of both chairs. She wanted to take a good look at them, but her borrowed body wouldn't turn its head. The movements became slow and difficult, as if she was trying to move through the water, and she felt a surge of repulsion that was not connected to her own sensations. Xan didn't want to look at them, so I cannot, too, she finally understood.
Instead, she concentrated on the woman in the center, who apparently was their leader. Their Queen. Every single face in the crowd was turned towards her, bearing fierce joy and grim, fervent resolve. I have a very bad feeling about this. They do not seem to expect a simple religious ceremony.
The Queen raised her hand, and the utter silence followed. The melodious tongue she used was not familiar to Ala, but as Xan obviously knew this one, she was able to understand, too, though the words seemed to appear right in her head, passing the ears.
"Evil gives rise to evil, but good gives rise to good," the woman's voice was magnified by the acoustics of the temple, but still it seemed a little more than an intimate whisper. Her voice vibrated, and for a moment, Ala imagined that the Queen spoke only to her. The illusion had dissipated within moments, but it was hard to shake off the feeling that she had known and admired the woman for many years.
"Queen Ellesime..." Ala's lips moved on its own accord. A light buzz swept over the temple, echoing the girl.
"This man has brought us death. Terrible, agonizing death for every citizen of Suldanessellar. I am not afraid for myself, for I cannot die. But he and his sister have brought death to you, my friends. My children. And the simplest, most justified thing I can do is execute the man and woman called Joneleth and Bodhi."
The crowd was watching, waiting. Ellesime looked at the masked figure prostrated on the floor--and turned away.
"But is it truly justice? I would seek your council. These two are slaves to their ambition. Yes, we can defend ourselves, and flood the remaining branches of the Tree with blood in the name of revenge. But should we add another stream to the flow already split? I understand that the chance these people would change is slim, but the chance exists, nevertheless. Can we allow ourselves to be merciful? Are we strong enough? Do we believe in ourselves? Are we ready to forgive?"
The crowd kept silence. The crowd was waiting for an answer.
"We shall not meet evil with evil," the Queen's voice whispered.
Hundreds of eyes were drinking in Ellesime's image. Devotion, worship, admiration, respect, love--Ala could not see any traces of skepticism there. The elven rule is autocratic and absolute, she remembered. Nobody would doubt the supreme ruler's decision. Or, perhaps, those who would are not here?
It is more complicated, Ala. These two have violated what we hold most dear: the Elven Spirit, our shared essence. Elven minds are linked with each other physically and spiritually, and Joneleth has nearly severed this connection, damaging our very core. The shock and despair was so great that on the day of the Trial even the wisest of us were little more than frightened children.
And the Queen?
She is one of the People, and yet she is not. You have compared her to the goddess: in a way, she is. But even divine beings make mistakes.
Something had changed. The light still cloaked the woman's figure, but now it was not green and golden. It was pure white, and some of it was shifting to the figures on the floor. Why aren't they saying anything?
A silence spell, Xan's voice answered. Besides, do you really think anyone would listen? Look.
One of the shapes on the floor--a woman, she could see it clearly now, was screaming on the top of her voice, flinging insults and accusations to the Queen. Ala realized with horror that if not for the inner voice, she would not even notice: she felt as if someone pressed a piece of cotton wool to her ears.
Nobody would pay attention to them, the voice continued. The crowd is a single mind, shaped by the Queen's single gesture. Just be in the crowd. Watch with the crowd. Shout with the crowd. And you will refuse to notice.
You will refuse to think.
"Shall we let them go?" Ellesime asked. The crowd sighed, as one man. "Having forsaken everything elven, they have no place amongst us. They would be outcast so they might learn how precious our ways are." Her clear voice became harsh, and she began to chant in the language Ala did not know.
Outcast? She's just letting them go? But what is this spell she is chanting?
An ancient ritual, draining the victim of the connection to the communal spirit. Unable to sense Nature, unable to truly feel, gradually fading into a pared-down, deteriorated existence. Even their memories would eventually fade. There was a brief, bitter mental chuckle. Much as I felt after Mulahey's treatment... can you see any connection?
Mulahey? Xan, where are you?
On my way to oblivion, of course. You cannot help me now, so you would do well to pay attention to the ritual instead: it is about to finish.
The light intensified to the point it brought physical pain to the unprotected parts of the body, piercing her skin with thousands of invisible needles. Then the chanting stopped. The concentration of excitement among the crowd was such that Ala could almost visualize it in her mind.
Next moment the girl wished she was her old self again, and within seconds, she could only wish for swift death, as the Queen's spell descended on its victims. The pain permeated every pore of her body, and something very important was slipping away with its invasion, something she couldn't live without...
But why, why does it hurt? Ala screamed mentally. I have done nothing wrong, it is them the Queen is after!
I am afraid you have chosen a wrong body to inhabit, Ala. It is impossible to become an enchanter without adapting one's emotion perception and sensitivity. What you feel are but the feeble echoes of the victims' torment. Yes, the pain they experience is inconceivable, but it is nothing compared to the doom that awaits them eventually.
Nobody deserves this... whatever they have done... only death. Swift death. Please...
Then there was more pain. And when Ala finally opened her eyes, she stared into the haughty face she was sure would haunt her nightmares again and again.

"...Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name. Ellesime!"
Ellesime. Queen Ellesime.
The girl looked around with bleary eyes. Her body was aching, and blood poured forth from her nose, but she paid no attention. At last, she had found what she was looking for: a round, almost heart-shaped stone lay next to the artist. Before anyone spoke, Ala stepped up to Prism, seized the cobble and watched with satisfaction as the clay statue burst to pieces.
"It's high time you've done it," Edwin wrapped himself up in his mantle more tightly, waving away another portion of flies. "Now can we go?"
Prism opened his mouth in a scream, but only a croak came out. "My work... my work was nearly done..." He turned to Ala, nothing but madness in his eyes. "With my last breath I shall curse thee! May your soul know the same unrest as mine!" The artist collapsed at her feet.
The girl extended her hand and took the emeralds from the heap of the rubble. "I'm sorry," she eventually said. "She was evil." But Prism was dead, and there was nothing she could say or do. She put the stones to her pocket, together with the cooling talisman, and turned to the party.
"Can a sentient being torture and cripple another and call it mercy?"
"What, sis?" Imoen blinked.
"Nothing," Ala forced a smile. "Nothing important whatsoever. Let us move on."
Ellesime. I'll remember the name.




0 user(s) are reading this topic

0 members, 0 guests, 0 anonymous users

Skin Designed By Evanescence at IBSkin.com