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The Promise


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Posted 23 October 2002 - 04:35 AM

The Promise
by Ryan Brady

The gold coin slowly rose from the old mage’s weathered and wrinkled hand, spinning lightly in the air and sparkling with the glint of candlelight, then disappeared in a puff of twinkling dust. The young girl’s sweet, baby-blue eyes widened in amazement as she clapped her hands excitedly. She must have seen the trick a hundred times now, but each successive time was just as impressive as the first.

“Do it again! Do it again!”

“I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my spells for the day, little one,” the old man laughed. “Perhaps tomorrow. If you’re a good girl.”

The young girl nodded enthusiastically, her crimson ponytails bobbing up and down as if to accentuate her point. “I’ll be good, I promise!” She made a little crossing motion over her heart and batted her eyes innocently.

“I’m sure you will, my little angel.” A smile crossed the old man’s face as he gave her cheek a gentle pinch, then slowly turned around in his chair. A moment later he felt a slight stirring in the right pocket of his robes.

“Gotch’er prayer beads!” The little girl waved the necklace triumphantly over her head as she dashed out the bedroom door and ran into the main room of the small cottage. “Weeeeeee!”

Chuckling lightly, the old mage turned his attention back to the woman lying in the bed behind him. The woman who was his trusted companion. The woman who had saved his life so many times through the years. The woman who was now dying before his eyes.

He forced back a tear as he took in her thinning and withering features. Her face, once so full of life and energy, once filled with confidence and conviction, was now shriveled and frail. Her dried and cracked skin was peeling back in spots and her graying hair was falling out in large patches. It seemed so hard to believe that this woman could be twice as young as he. Yet after all she had been through, he was amazed that she didn’t look even worse.

Gazing helplessly back at the old mage with cloudy, vacant eyes, the woman drew in a ragged and labored breath. “I must look like a hideous monster to you, old friend,” she wheezed.

“Of course not,” he lied. “You’re just as beautiful as the day we first met in Easthaven, Jelena.”

“You’re such a terrible liar, Gorion.” The woman shook her head and laughed, but it quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Gorion reached out to steady her until it passed several minutes later. Groaning in agony, she collapsed back into her pillow. “By the gods, sometimes I wonder how I’ve been able to survive this long.”

“You always were the strong one in the group,” Gorion smiled. “It’s a testament to your inner strength.”

The young girl raced by the door again, still waving Gorion’s prayer beads around in the air. “Weeeeee! Got’ta catch me if you want these back! Weeeeee!”

The sight of her daughter’s youthful antics invoked a grin and a light chuckle from the woman. “No, Gorion. THAT is a testament to my inner strength.” She returned her gaze to him and sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this? She’s quite a handful.”

Gorion took her trembling hand in his. “I would trust her to no other. Besides, I’ve managed just fine with Jaycen these past few years.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, but...he’s a bit different. Those two are practically polar opposites. Jaycen is so mature for his age. He’s so focused. So driven. The boy has so much strength. He has the heart of a warrior.”

Gorion nodded slowly. “That’s what worries me.”

“And my dear Imoen is...”

The girl raced by the door once more. “Weeeeee!”

Jelena sighed and shook her head. “Well, Imoen is Imoen.” A hint of concern crossed her face as she turned her attention back to Gorion. “Is Candlekeep truly the best place for her?”

“Don’t worry about Ulrant,” Gorion replied. “I know how to deal with him. He has his own ideas of how things should be, but there are ways to...persuade him. I have done it before and I have no qualms about doing it again if need be. There is far too much at stake to do otherwise. Besides,” Gorion chuckled, “he owes me.”

“But will she be safe? What about Firkraag? He did swear revenge on us after what we did to him.”

“Firekraag is a coward,” Gorion spat. “He would not dare attack me in Candlekeep. The repercussions would be far too severe. Even a creature as dim-witted as he knows that.” Gorion gently squeezed the woman’s hand and locked gazes with her. “I swear to you, Jelena, she will be safe.”

“Safety is not enough.” Desperation set into the woman’s eyes as she drew in a ragged breath and struggled to rise up from her pillow. “She must never know, Gorion. She must never know the truth of what she is. I know that runs contrary to your plans for Jaycen, but Imoen is different. Her innocence and naivete are the only things that will keep away the shadows. They are the only things that will keep the taint locked deep in the darkest recesses of her soul. She must never know, and she must be sheltered from anything that would cause her to know. Promise me, Gorion. Promise me that you will never tell her. Promise me that you will hide and shelter my dear, sweet, Imoen from the vile, hideous truth of what she is...and what she could become.”

“I promise you,” Gorion whispered. “If that is your wish then I will do everything in my power to ensure that she will never know.”

The woman sighed lightly and sank back into her pillow. Her breath grew shallow as her eyes stared vacantly off into oblivion. “One more thing,” she whispered. “Make sure my beautiful Imoen knows...that her mother loved her dearly.”

Gorion nodded as the last breath slipped from the woman’s mouth and she drifted into eternal, peaceful sleep. “Rest ye well, noble paladin,” Gorion whispered. He solemnly rose from his chair to blow out the candles in the room, then slowly closed the door behind him.

As he returned to the main room of the cottage Imoen ran up to Gorion and hugged his leg. “Where’s mom?”

Struggling valiantly to hide his tears from the girl, the old mage forced out a smile. He was sure that it must have looked horribly unconvincing, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. “Your mother is...resting now, little one,” he replied. “And she will be for some time to come.”

A frown crossed Imoen’s face as she stared down at the ground and stirred her foot around. “Mom’s really sick, isn’t she?”

Gorion lifted the little girl up in his arms and clutched her to his chest. His voice cracked and wavered as he spoke. “Do you like to read, Imoen?”

A bright and cheery smile quickly returned to the girl’s lips as she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! I love stories! Especially ones with trollops and plug tails.”

“Then I think I know of a place you might enjoy.” The old mage placed her back down, took her by the hand, and led her out of the cottage.

The two were met by a cool, springtime breeze blowing through the air, carrying with it the fresh scent of blossoming flowers. Imoen skipped along the trail beside the old mage as he gazed off into the southern horizon. “Let’s not tarry, my little angel,” Gorion said. “Looks like there’s a storm brewing to the south. We don’t want to get caught up in it.”

The little girl just smiled and shrugged. “No big deal. Your magic will keep me safe.”

Gorion sighed. He prayed the day would never come when she would have to learn otherwise.

Imoen peered up at Gorion with eyes of pure innocence. “When I grow up, I wanna be a wizard just like you, Gorion. I like magic. It’s beautiful.”




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