Revision! And exams! And revision! Have no fear, in a week's time, I'm done, done, done, and hope to pick up the same pace I did last summer (chapter a day, yay!). Anyway, here's a slightly over-developed filler chapter. -------------
Chapter 123: Equalise
“Aye, lad, that’s a fine blade you’ve got yourself there,” Cromwell the dwarf declared, with a slight note of pomposity as Harrian lifted the newly-forged sword from the blacksmith’s anvil, gripping the hilt firmly and staring at the slightly blue-tinted metal of the weapon with a distinct amount of awe. “A legendary weapon, that,” the dwarf continued, nodding firmly. “Must be a tale and a half how you got your hands on the parts, lad?”
“About three tales,” Harrian replied quietly, stepping back and moving the Equaliser through a few careful sweeps, getting a feel for the blade, sensing the power in the sword, a power beyond that of the Daystar, or of any other weapon he’d bared before. “I never dreamt… I mean, you read about swords like this in a thousand and one books; read about these weapons which are almost mythological, lost in the mists of time, and daydream about finding them, but you never really believe…”
Cromwell shrugged as the swashbuckler absent-mindedly passed over the small bag of gold on his belt, the dwarf moving back to count the coins, keeping a sharp eye on Harrian. “Laddie, from what you’ve said and what I’ve heard, it seems you’ve seen enough interesting things on your travels for this to be just a hiccup.”
“Oh, I suppose, but… it’s one thing to find a fantastic sword on an adventure, but quite… different… to find the parts of one and have it forged together. When you find it, you’re painfully aware that someone had this blade before you and will have it after you once you die, probably on your own adventure. It’s not your sword, you’re merely borrowing it for the rest of your life. But to have one forged yourself, to collect the pieces from dungeons and the Underdark, sort of makes it more… more… personal… you know?” Harrian’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head before setting the sword down and reaching for his belt to unbuckle the Daystar’s scabbard. “What do you mean, from what you’ve heard, anyway?” he continued absently, placing the Equaliser’s scabbard in the place of his now old-sword, slinging the gold-tinted blade over his back where Peridan had used to rest. “Where’ve you heard it from?”
Cromwell shrugged again as he sat down on a chair before a beaten worktable, placing the coins on the worn wooden surface. “Just around. I sometimes stop by the Five Flagons, or the Sea’s Bounty. You get bards in such places. They’re growing quite fond of you, you know. He who defied the Cowled Wizards, the Shadow Thieves, the Order; saved a village and braved the Underdark…”
“Yes, because I want the Shadow Thieves right now to be remembering how I defied them,” Harrian murmured with a hint of a defeat in his voice. “I’m going to kill that bloody tiefling,” he continued irritably. “Why do bards always have to make a song and dance about every single bloody bit of excitement that comes their way?”
“Because they’re bards,” Cromwell replied simply and gruffly in his dwarven accent, hurrying through his counting. “It’s what they do. Asking them not to would be like asking me to not forge weapons, or asking you to not slit a purse. It’s their nature.”
“But I don’t want it to be,” Harrian replied, a little petulantly. “It’s bad enough to have Haer’Dalis running around writing a thousand and one ballads about the adventures, but to have them in the public eye? I’ll never get anything done if I have bloody everyone knowing about me… it’s just absolutely…”
“Yes, unreasonable, I know.” There was a slightly forced note to Cromwell’s sympathy as the dwarf reached the end of his counting and realised he hadn’t been cheated. Not only that, he had no reason to sit here and suffer Harrian’s whining anymore. “Now, don’t you have a Shadowmaster to talk to?”
The swashbuckler glared at the dwarf. “How do you know that? Did the bards…”
“You told me, lad, when you came in!” Cromwell retorted incredulously. “Now, many thanks for your patronage, but move along now. I’ve got a lot of work tae be done, and your whining isn’t going to help…”
Harrian nodded sulkily, bringing his tirade to a halt as he turned and started for the door of the forge, idly playing with the hilt of the Equaliser, chuckling to himself slightly. He should have guessed about the bards, mind. When they’d returned to the Five Flagons the other day, they’d received a few glances, some muttering had gone through crowds, but he’d rather ignored it, too jubilant that they were home.
Since they’d got back, he’d felt foolish about leaving in the first place. After finding Irenicus’ journal in Bodhi’s lair – what was it about these villains which meant they left useful journals around the place? – he had known the next part of the puzzle lay in the Underdark, but from closer studying, it was clear that clues had also pointed him to Suldanesselar… but was that just hindsight? They had made no giant leaps with the Underdark, truly. It had simply been another part of chasing Irenicus when he was again one step ahead, but… it seemed as if there were few steps left, and Harrian needed to just reach the last one for the final encounter. Just, on the way, he’d have to confront Shadow Thieves, Bodhi, and the elves before fighting Irenicus.
Irenicus… A shiver ran down Harrian’s back even as he stepped out of the forge into the bright morning sun, viewing the hustle and bustle of the Docks District with a sort of detached interest. He shook his head to clear it of the shadowy images, of the memories of pain suffered in the dungeon, of pain suffered when his soul had been ripped out, leaving only this emptiness he was now desperate to fill…
There were no scars on his body. Irenicus had been meticulous in healing any damage he had done, making Harrian as good as new before breaking bones and rending flesh again. In some ways, that made it worse, the fact that the scars were only on the inside. He could cope with external damage. If he had a scar across his chest from the time his ribs had been broken and the flesh cut – whilst being fully conscious of the pain, though he’d passed out in that experiment, screaming in agony – then it might have been easier to deal with; the psychological pain could have been poured into that scar, or any other he’d had left, and then covered up with clothing, hidden away from everyone. With a scar inside… it was harder to cover up.
Some might have said that a physical scar would serve only as a reminder, to bring back the memories of those months of constant torture, but Harrian thought that as a useless comment – he didn’t need a physical reminder to be able to remember that torture. It was always there, in his dreams, in his thoughts, in the emptiness where his soul had once been.
He had been walking through the streets of the Docks District now, and had he been fully aware of his surroundings he would have kicked himself for being so absent-minded. There were Shadow Thieves, enemies, on every street corner, and a thousand and one threats beyond that. So it was just as well that the only person he ran into, almost literally, was Jaheira.
“There you are!” the druid scolded the moment she set eyes on him, grabbing him by arm and yanking him out of the flow of people. “You have been gone half an hour; all you were doing was walking for a matter of minutes to collect the sword and then coming back again!” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You got distracted by the sword, didn’t you…”
Harrian shrugged, managing to smile wryly as he was jerked out of his dark thoughts, pushing them to the back of his mind. “Well… yes… it’s a beauty of a sword!” he replied defensively, pulling the Equaliser out for display. “A sword of balance… I trust you approve?” As she raised an eyebrow at him, his grin broadened and became more sincere. “What are you doing here, anyway? I didn’t think you’d be looking for me…”
“I was. Perhaps it was because Haer’Dalis and Aerie have been driving me absolutely crazy and I needed to escape, but I was still looking for you,” Jaheira replied dryly, giving the sword an appreciative glance before gesturing that he ought to put it away to stop drawing any more attention to them.
“What have they been doing now?” Harrian asked with a mild groan, sheathing the sword and falling into step beside her as they headed through the crowds back towards the Sea’s Bounty. “I know it was a bad idea to place the two of them together…”
“From the perspective of keeping the party happy, it is the best decision,” Jaheira pointed out. “Here, even the groups are balanced. Anomen will keep the other party ordered, though neither Imoen nor Keldorn should give him much trouble, and Minsc is easy to direct. As for you… if you cannot control a tiefling and a wingless Avariel, what kind of party leader are you?” she dug subtly, smirking a little.
“A mortal one,” he groaned. “Let me guess, he’s quoting poetry at her, or at least flirting outrageously, and she’s just going along with it politely, but at the same time there’s still something of an affect, as no mere woman can stand up to the charms and wit of the irrepressible Haer’Dalis,” Harrian mused, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“And you think that the groups would be organised better if Imoen were there to see that?” Jaheira pointed out incredulously. “No, not at all… I must go and have a word with that girl at some point.”
“Don’t bother,” Harrian replied dismissively. “With Haer’Dalis thus distracted, I think Anomen will.” He glanced around the street, taking in the shadows and making ‘educated’ guesses at which of the figures lurking around street corners were potential threats. It was pointless, as Bloodscalp had already labelled them as not to be touched by the Shadow Thieves, and if any petty thief stepped forwards looking for trouble they’d regret it. “In the meantime, I think we have a Shadowmaster to talk to.”
