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Nothing Left To Lose


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#1 Guest_Silrana_*

Posted 23 October 2002 - 04:11 AM

Nothing Left To Lose
by Silrana


Nothing's good, the news is bad,
The heat goes on and it drives you mad,
Scornful thoughts that fly your way,
You should turn away,
Cause there's nothing more to say.

Keldorn followed Elana as she strode down the walkway, her face set in a frozen mask of intensity. He knew she was upset, but didn't know how to break through the emotional wall that surrounded her.

He cast his mind back to the ugly scene that had just occurred. The two paladins had gone to attend to some business with Sir Ryan Trawl at the Order, and had found him occupied. They patiently waited for him to finish speaking to an older knight.

Keldorn had idly wondered why Sir Attaron was there. He was not popular, and his advice was not sought on matters of any importance, so he tended not to bother to come to the Hall. Most in the Order knew that Attaron owed his longevity to his uncanny talent for finding a fighting position to the rear of more capable warriors.

Without warning, Attaron had spun around and glared at Elana. "What is THAT doing here?" he had snarled.

"She," said Sir Ryan pointedly, "is Elana, a paladin of Torm and a friend to the Order."

"Nonsense. Monsters cannot be paladins. Begone, foul beast!" He had dropped his hand to his sword hilt.

Attaron then had looked surprised to suddenly find himself surrounded by other paladins. Keldorn had stepped in between Elana and Attaron, and Sir Ryan had slammed his hand down on top of Attaron's, preventing him from drawing his weapon. Several others who had witnessed his outburst were glaring at him with disapproving eyes.

"Sir Attaron," Sir Ryan said coldly, "attacking another paladin in the confines of this building is not permissible. If there is any repetition of this behavior, you will have to be disciplined."

"A paladin fights evil wherever it is found!"

"And you have not found it here," Keldorn said, his grim expression forestalling anything else the older man would have said.

Attaron glared at Elana for a long moment, and snorted. "Being a paladin evidently isn't what it used to be," he grumbled as he walked away.

Keldorn had then noticed that Elana had not said a word, had not even moved. She politely gave Sir Ryan her attention while Keldorn spoke to him, but otherwise gave no indication that anything had occurred. She had left the Hall in silence, her forceful stride the only sign of her inner agitation.

As they walked through the streets, Keldorn suddenly felt the prickly feeling at the back of his neck that warned of the presence of evil. Without warning, Elana suddenly slammed her hand into a stone wall. She continued on, and the sensation of evil was gone.

"Elana, your hand…"

"It's nothing."

"Well," he said dryly, "you might want to know that 'nothing' is dripping onto your boot."

She halted, and lifted her hand up. Blood was dripping from the joints of her gauntlet. She pulled it off, and Keldorn could see where the bands had bitten into the skin. Elana flexed her fingers. "No harm done."

"No harm? Perhaps you should heal yourself, my friend. That is your sword hand, after all."

"Waste healing on such a minor wound? No, I…need the pain. It keeps me focused."

Keldorn recalled the flash of evil he had felt, and did not argue. "Elana, about Sir Attaron…."

She snapped her head around and gave him a look as hard as stone. She then turned away and continued on their path back to the inn. But after a few minutes, her pace slowed, and eventually she came to a stop on a small bridge over one of the waterways that ran through Athkatla. She leaned over the rail, watching the water trickling beneath.

Keldorn waited, knowing she would speak when she was ready. After some minutes, she gave a heavy sigh.

"How do you stand it, Keldorn?"

"Stand what, Elana?"

"Being in my company day after day. Being in the presence of evil."

"You should not worry about what that old fool thinks. You are not evil, and it gives me no difficulty to be in your presence."

"But Sir Attaron isn't the only one in the Hall who thinks I am unfit to be a paladin. Sometimes when I walk through I see others flinching. There are always whispers, and the stares… some blunt, others more subtle, but they are always there."

"Only among the knights who do not yet know you. Any in the Order who have met you and spoken to you know that you have a brave and just heart."

"But they shouldn't have to get to know me. Any other paladin is accepted with open arms, while I am met with suspicion and hesitation. They all can feel…what I am."

Keldorn pondered, searching for a reply that would make Elana feel better, but he couldn't deny that she was correct. Even he had experienced a chill when he had first met her, an unmistakable feeling of wrongness.

They stood in silence, watching leaves floating down the small stream. Elana seemed to be staring at a leaf caught in a swirl of water at the edge of the bank. She said in a low voice, "Sometimes…I can't help but wonder why."

"Why?"

"Why Torm accepted my service. If I was born a damned creature, what good am I to him?"

"You may not be damned, Elana. The prophecies…"

"Are unclear. I know. But I also know what I saw when Sarevok died."

"You have…never really spoken of him to me. What did you see?"

Elana clenched her jaw, and seemed unwilling to speak. "He didn't die like anyone else I'd ever seen. He drew his last breath, and then… he…he just dissolved. Where his body had been was a swirling cloud of glittering dust, and then it was gone. I could only stare at the empty armor at my feet."

Keldorn looked at her with amazement. "I believe, my friend, you just solved a mystery that has bothered a fellow knight for years."

"What do you mean?"

"An old friend of mine named Urnsten told me a tale of a disturbing experience he once had. While traveling he heard a woman's screams coming from a cave not far from the road. He immediately ran to help, but found only a woman giving birth and a man he assumed was the father. The birth was not going well, and even though Urnsten used every bit of healing at his disposal, the woman died.

He tried to console the grief-stricken man by pointing out that while he had lost his love, he still had a fine son. The man screeched that the child was not his, that it was a monster, and without warning drew a dagger and killed the infant. Urnsten said that the child's body turned to dust, and I remember he mentioned dancing lights."

Elana stared at him in horror. "He murdered a baby? What did your friend do?"

"The local authorities refused to believe that he had stabbed the child. The man was well liked, and Urnsten had no body to support his claim. They preferred to believe that the woman had been ill with some disease that simply appeared to be pregnancy."

"They doubted a paladin's word?"

"Urnsten said he suspected they knew why the man had committed the deed, and were shielding him. But he himself never discovered the truth. I think you have provide the explanation- the infant was a Bhaalspawn."

Elana shuddered. "I wonder how many others suffered that fate. But it only proves my point, Keldorn. There are many who don't believe we should be allowed to even exist, much less become paladins."

"Then you are proof that they are wrong, my friend."


You gave the best you had to give,
You only have one life to life,
You fought so hard you were a slave,
After all you gave,
There was nothing left to save.

"That still doesn't answer my question, though. Why would a god like Torm accept the service of the daughter of one of his enemies?"

Keldorn thought for a moment. "Perhaps it shows his wisdom. What better way to defeat a potential enemy than by turning them into a friend? Or even better, by having them as a servant?"

Elana smiled. "That's a thought. Some of the vaguer prophecies seem to give the Bhaalspawn a chance of attaining godhood. If by some strange turn of events I became more than mortal, I have already sworn allegiance to Torm. He will have gained another ally among the gods."

"The Bhaalspawn, or possibly just one. What will you do, Elana, if you are the heir to Bhaal's power?"

Her face set itself in grim lines. "It would be hard to say. Would I even be myself? I doubt Bhaal had any interest in the well being of his children. If there is to be an heir, then it is only to serve as a focal point for some sort of rebirth."

"You do not believe that a Bhaalspawn will become the new Lord of Murder?"

"No. Sarevok was a fool. He was seduced by visions of power, visions that he would become our father's successor. He reveled in all that Bhaal was, and all he hoped to be."

"So you have no hopes of taking his power for yourself?"

She stared out at the water for several minutes, then started to chuckle. The amusement became stronger, until Elana was laughing out loud. "Wouldn't it be fitting, Keldorn, if this was all just Bhaal's idea of a sick joke? No power to seize, no legacy to inherit, just who knows how many godlings fighting and dying and sowing strife across the land. All for a prize that doesn't exist."

Keldorn cocked an eyebrow. "Doesn't exist? But you do have powers beyond those of a normal paladin, my friend."

"But what if that's all there is? What if the great power Sarevok died for, that Irenicus craves, is just wishful thinking?"

"It's something to think about."

Elana sighed. "As amusing as the thought is, I suppose it's too much to hope for. Too many prophecies, too much interest by too many people."

"You never answered my question."

"Keldorn, you are my friend, but I'm not sure I owe you an answer. After all, I have never been given any answers to my questions, so why should I give any in return?"

Keldorn was startled. He and Elana had always had a harmonious relationship. She had never cut him off in such a blunt manner.

Elana saw his expression and flushed. "I'm sorry, Keldorn, I shouldn't take my frustrations out on you. But there are times I can't help feeling like a cosmic pawn. Am I truly serving Torm, or will my actions eventually serve Bhaal? How can I feel that my life is mine when so many hope to use me to their own ends?"

"All paladins serve at the will of their god, Elana. We are swords for Torm to wield."

"I don't resent Torm's demands, for I chose to take those on, the only ones I did choose, in fact. I didn't choose to be Bhaal's daughter and exist simply to fulfill some dark purpose only he can be sure of. I didn't choose to be the target of Sarevok's bloody plans, or Irenicus' dreams of power. Do you think that if I had any freedom in life I would have picked this? My blood has enslaved me."

"You are always free to follow your own path."

"Am I?"

Keldorn had no answer to give, because he knew that the normal rules of life didn't apply to one such as her. After a few minutes of silence, Elana said softly, "I've heard the legend of the coin of luck landing on its edge, but I sometimes wonder, where did it roll to?"


You read the book, you turn the page,
You change your life in a thousand ways,
The dawn of reason lights your eyes,
With the key you realize,
To the kingdom of the wise.

Gently Keldorn said, "Perhaps we should return to the inn. The others will be waiting."

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up. I need to do a little thinking."

Reluctantly he turned away. At one point he glanced back over his shoulder, and she was still watching the water in the stream.

Alone with her thoughts, Elana pondered the strange path of her life. Under her breath, she murmured, "And what of you, my liege? Will you tell me why you let me swear myself to you, when some of your followers think I should have choked to death saying my vows?"

She felt the rush of warmth that she knew meant Torm had looked her way. No matter how many times she experienced the sensation of divine attention, it still gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Into her mind came images of some of the assorted villains and evil creatures she had helped defeat, with Sarevok foremost.

"Fair enough. You believed I would serve you by fighting evil. But how could you trust that I wouldn't turn to evil myself?" Strangely, she felt a sensation of amusement.

She drew a deep breath, then swallowed. Much as it made every bone in her body tremble with fear, she knew the next question she must ask. "My Lord, I have sworn to serve you, to die if necessary to defend the cause of good and right. If I die your faithful servant, will my soul dwell in your realm? Or will my Father's realm always have first claim?"

She waited for the answer she feared. And waited. The warmth had not left her, but finally she realized no reply was coming to her question. She was baffled by the silence in her mind. Had she missed some sign, some indication of Torm's answer? No, there had been nothing. Cautiously, she repeated, "Lord, I ask you only for the truth, no matter how painful that truth might be."

Still there was no reply. A slow, sad smile creased Elana's face. "Ever the True, Torm? If you give me no answer, does that mean…there is none to give?" Could it be that even the gods were unsure of the ultimate fate of the Bhaalspawns?

She supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise. The Time of Troubles had shown that the gods were less than the all-knowing creatures so many had thought they were, but still…. For a god not to be able to promise salvation to a true believer?

She stood frozen, staring out with unseeing eyes. To passersby, she appeared to be admiring the view, but inside her mind, a cold rage was erupting deep inside. If there was no assurance of salvation, then what was the point of serving Torm? Of serving any god? If her deeds and prayers could not put her among Torm's Faithful, where did that leave her?

Did the gods already judge her one of Bhaal's Faithful? But how could a dead god have followers? She shuddered. If she was committed by blood to Bhaal, then she would be condemned as one of his False, which was not a pleasant prospect. An even worse one was the thought that a rejection by Torm would put her among the Faithless.

Bitterly she realized that even these were uncertain options, for they were the fates possible for human souls, and she wasn't truly human. Angrily she lashed out in her mind. 'What good are you then, Torm? If nothing can save me, why shouldn't I take Bhaal's power for myself? What's stopping me? I have nothing…nothing. I've lost everything in my life that matters, and now I find I can't even count on my god.'

The rage and mental recriminations went on, until finally she could think of nothing else to say. Her anger finally spent, she waited for the inevitable condemnation she would surely receive. She closed her eyes, and knew that she had gone too far. What would Keldorn say when she told him she had been cast out by Torm?

She felt a wave of emotion rush over her, so strong it nearly made her knees buckle. Not anger, not even disapproval. Pity. Regret. In a way, that was worse. She felt like a small child who had had a temper tantrum in front of her father. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

When she felt calmer, she contritely prayed, 'Forgive me, my Lord, I cannot blame you for the taint my father has cursed me with. I have vowed to fight for you, and I will continue to do that, even with no promise of reward. No matter what comes, my sword is yours."

Her prayers ended, the sensation of Torm's awareness faded away. She was still left with questions, the most nagging was the one Keldorn had asked, the one she had not answered. Did she want Bhaal's power?

Perhaps she did. If there was any way to control it, turn it to good… but there was great danger in those thoughts. It would be easy to leave herself open to greed, to be seduced by power. And she couldn't help but wonder if achieving godhood would be a heresy against Torm. An interesting thought, one she should discuss with Keldorn. She hoped he wasn't angry over her sharp treatment of him.

Elana couldn't resist a small smile. It seemed ludicrous to imagine herself as a goddess, but stranger things had happened in recent years. But for now, she would return to her life, and see where Torm led her.

She started to turn away from the bridge, then stopped. She stooped to pick up a stone, and with careful aim threw it into the water. The splash knocked the small leaf she had been watching out of the swirling eddy, and into the current of the stream. She grinned as she watched it sail away.

It was time for her to move on as well.


Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
No more lingering doubt remained,
Nothing sacred or profane,
Everything to gain,
Cause you've nothing left.






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