Jump to content


Rush Of Blood To The Head, part 4.4.


  • Please log in to reply
No replies to this topic

#1 Guest_Theodur_*

Posted 16 September 2003 - 04:22 PM

Rush Of Blood To The Head, part 4.4.

The mountain tracks leading to the asylum are still muddy and slippery from the rain that continued to fall throughout the night. It is a minor inconvenience that will never stop us and soon we reach a small bridge that leads over a rift in the cliff and ends on the asylums roof. The massive stone edifice is rising directly from the cliff, with small towers and spires scattered around erratically as if to signify the architect’s affiliation to the asylums inmates.

We say goodbyes to Sime before advancing further - under Aran’s orders she is not to enter the complex itself. The parting is not long, Sime simply waves to us and then she is gone… I feel slightly worried about the lack of a rogue in our group, but since we will get Immy back shortly, it is not very important. If we don’t get Immy back… then it will be unimportant as well… our road will end here.

Navigating this place is somewhat tricky as the wings of the fortress are of different height and connected with steep ladders, not to mention some of the creatures that inhabit the roof. Groups of ridiculously slow and weak lizard men and undead shadow critters are not the resilient resistance I expected – the lizard men fall before anyone can count to three and Viconia’s clerical powers make the battle with undead a walk in the park… Almost feels like the objective of these obstacles are to hinder us, but not to ultimately prevent us from entering the asylum.

The small ward stone that I hold in my hand is starting to glow, as we approach the large wooden door. I feel tingles running down my spine, thoughts of what awaits us behind that door are making me stutter badly as I turn to address my two companions.

“S-s-so… every-one r-ready t-to go?” I manage, feeling like a dozen of butterflies are hovering in my stomach…

“You look rather pale, abbil,” Viconia replies, looking rather disinterested, but I sense that she is slightly afraid as well.

Jaheira does not reply at all, she simply stands determined and resolute, her grip on the unsheathed scimitar intensifying. She looks at me and manages a rather weak, laborious smile, it must be quite difficult to grit her teeth and trying to smile at the same time. I reach out my shaking hand and she grabs it like a drowning man clutching a straw… it helps us both to pull ourselves together, though. Joined by hands we enter the asylum, I hold the ward stone, while she pushes the door open and we cross the doorstep.

Our arrival has been expected, I conclude looking at the robed man who is walking towards us through the modestly decorated hall. His robes are the ones of the Cowled Wizards, which is a relief as Irenicus or Bodhi would have made a much more unpleasant welcoming committee. Still, Cowlies are not exactly our friends, thus Jaheira’s grip on my hand remains as tight as before and Viconia’s quiet growl behind our backs suggests that she is not a friend of this sort either.

“I trust you have good reason to be entering this place? You are Theodur, are you not?” the Cowled Wizard speaks.

“So you know of my name, Cowled Wizard,” I reply, the self control slowly returning to me and I even manage to sound convincing and not overly hostile, “and if my name is known to you, the reason of my visit is even less of a secret…”

“Do not look surprised, Theodur,” the wizards voice remains calm and level, his head hidden under the robe to conceal any display of emotions that could be flickering on his face, “You made inquiries in the town. I have agents in the city – when dealing with institution such as this, security is of the utmost importance. You have been observed from the moment you placed your feet on the ground of Brynnlaw and, yes – the reasons for your visit are well known to me. For I am the coordinator of this place, Theodur.”

He stops for a moment as if to draw breath, but I get the feeling that he chooses to pause simply to unnerve me. “This ‘Imoen’ of yours, no doubt you are concerned about her. She is at full health and with your permission I will direct you to her. Remember, this is not a prison. This is an institution of healing and learning.”

“In that case, I demand that you release her,” I reply sternly. The thought that Imoen is close and she is well is uplifting, but I know that I shouldn’t get my hopes high yet. Something about this man rings a warning and we might yet be deceived.

“But it is not that simple, though it never is, is it? Still, I'm sure you will understand more once I have explained – allow me to show you what I mean. I shall take you on a tour and let you examine the facilities and Imoen, for yourself. Follow me, Theodur,” the robed man does not await our agreement, instead he walks down the hall and enters the door to the right.

“Be wary, I smell a deceit,” Jaheira echoes my thoughts exactly, when saying these words, “though I am not sure from where and how it will come and that makes me uneasy.”

“I agree with you, jalil,” Viconia whispers, “I tried to cast a simple cantrip to tell his intents…”

“And?” Jaheira and I ask simultaneously.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Viconia shrugs her shoulders, “perhaps this is one of the dead magic zones, but perhaps the man himself is… I am guessing, abbil, but there are some powerful illusions that block such simple detection spells.”

“Highly unusual…” Jaheira mutters under her breath.

“We don’t have much choice though, other than to follow him,” I sigh and lead my two friends towards the door, which the wizard passed a mere minute ago. It leads to a long corridor filled with solitary confinement cells, my heart clenches at the thought that the free flying spirit of my Imoen has been entrapped in one of these cells. The robed man stands at one such cell and motions us to approach. He points to the inhabitant of the cell and when I see that the object of attention is a small child, I feel myself shaking with anger… The coordinator cuts Jaheira’s and mine protests off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

“The Residence for the Magically Deviant houses many people, all of whom can benefit from a structured environment. They can also be studied, such that what they are capable of is understood better. Take young Dili here,” he repeatedly points at the young girl, “she learned how to shape magical energy, allowing her to change her form as she wishes and she did so at remarkably young age. Here she is safe, and has provided us with invaluable information.”

For heaven’s sake, she’s just a child… the cold rationalism behind his words makes me shudder… I wonder what invaluable information could Imoen provide, she was just barely getting accustomed with her newly discovered magical skills…

The coordinator leads us further down the corridor, only to stop once in a while to introduce us with yet another unfortunate soul. Wanev, the former coordinator of this asylum – I am not surprised that spending that much time amongst the mad could lead to such dire consequences, even though in this case it is said to be a ‘bad reaction to a particular spell’.

Naljier Skal - a bard gone mad, rambling something about pretties, piled high into the sky… April, a young woman, able to see through the planes and being severely troubled by the denizens of those other planes… poor woman is never alone and unlikely to ever find peace, probably not even a moment of sleep. All Jaheira’s attempts to calm down the woman give the opposite effect and she becomes even more agitated. The sight off her is desperate and I am relieved that the coordinator leads us away from her cell, though her cries are still ringing in my ears.

An aged elven mage, Dradeel, is the occupant of the next cell, apparently he is beset by a horde of invisible werewolves… or so it would seem from his insane ramblings. We all know the person that occupies the next cell, though the acquaintance was not pleasurable. The raving lunatic and obsessed follower of Cyric, known to the world as Tiax is looking at us with an expression of superiority, screaming out his plans of world domination…

“Finally we meet someone whose presence here is justified,” Jaheira snorts, “rule as you will, little tyrant, just as long as it is from a cell.”

We proceed further and the coordinator explains on the way, “The person in the next cell is highly dangerous, but we have not had time to study him as of yet. He alone destroyed four of The Co… us, and all these atrocities were performed to come in possession of a very powerful and dangerous Netherese artifact,” he points to the person in the cell and in the next moment three jaws drop on the floor…

For we all know the man standing in the middle of the cell, hands crossed on his chest, haughty sneer on his lips. He looks slightly weaker and thinner than we last saw him - I guess he’s being improperly fed here…

“Ed…” I gasp in surprise.

“…win…” Jaheira continues, perplexed.

“Odesseiron?” Viconia finishes with a chuckle.

“What are you staring at, simians? I understand that even in my current state, I, Edwin Odesseiron, am a grand sight indeed, but perhaps I could persuade you to stop drooling and start doing something constructive, such as looking for the means of my release from this accursed cell?” Edwin snarls.

“So you know each other? How amusing. But I must insist that we proceed further to meet the one you came here for,” the wizard leads us away from Edwin’s cell.

“Eddie, you will have to endure a bit,” I tell the annoyed looking Red Wizard, “we will pick up Imoen and then we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“You will see what you can do for me?” Edwin is slightly incensed, “is that how you repay someone who has saved your useless simian furs on countless occasions? I demand that you release me now, do you hear me! (ah, perhaps I should have insulted them after they have released me… pah!)”

I do not understand the words that Edwin yells at us as we walk away from his cell, but I’d wager that they were the strongest Thaywian curses he has in his vocabulary… The coordinator leads us to a large room and I see that familiar, loveable figure of Imoen perched upon a sofa…

“So empty... empty...” she looks at me with hollow, dead eyes, her ridiculously pink hair disheveled… for a moment I don’t recognize her, even if she looks like Imoen…

“And at last, the one you seek. She is quite well, considering the circumstances. She does not seem willing to respond right now. Her consciousness comes and goes. It is fortunate you arrived when you did,” the coordinators words are somewhat puzzling.

“Q-quite well? Quite well? Are you out of your rotten mind?” I finally lose my temper that has been held in check for far too long, but now that I see that Imoen has clearly been mistreated here there is no stepping back. Jaheira quickly jumps to Imoen’s side to check whether she is in need of healing, as I continue to shout at the Cowled Wizard, “We are leaving and right now! Don’t you dare stand in our way! And I demand that you release Edwin as well…”

“You seem to misunderstand, Theodur,” the robed man speaks with a strange, eerie conviction, as if he would be in complete control of the situation. “It is fortunate for me that you arrived when you did. I am quite through with her for the moment. It is you that I am after. I knew you would seek her, and so the path was difficult, but not impossible. All designed to test your potential.”

“Test my… potential…” images and stray words shift in my mind, forming a blurry pattern that slowly becomes clearer… a second more and everything will be in its places…

“The Cowled Wizards no longer run the asylum. With Bodhi's aid I was able to take control quite quickly. She is a fine sibling, if a touch predatory. I trust you remember my name now?”

“You… you…” I am practically shaking with rage and Jaheira releases Imoen from her embrace and rushes to stand by my side, “do I remember you? Have I ever forgotten? Will I ever be able?”

“Such unnecessary display of emotions,” Irenicus remarks coldly, “as if I cared.
You can do nothing I do not wish. I do not see my servant with you - I wonder did you discover his treachery? That would have surprised me.”

“Your traitorous lackey is dead, Irenicus,” Jaheira hisses, “join him in oblivion, fiend!” she darts forward, her scimitar raised… but something is not right. Irenicus only grins and at a simple wave of his hand Jaheira collapses on the ground accompanied with my scream of anguish, as I mistake Irenicus actions for a casting of an instant death spell.

“Saemon has done well in sealing your fate. Your meals aboard ship were prepared exactly to my specifications - my servants are masters with herbs. You will find you are powerless. I have taken precautions that you will not be damaged. Rage would be wasted. There is no battle, no heroics - only sleep.” Irenicus waves his hand and I feel my legs become weak. Viconia drops on the floor with a loud thump and soon I join her, slipping into the unconsciousness…

Jaheira… will I ever see you again… are my last thoughts before the darkness overtakes me.




0 user(s) are reading this topic

0 members, 0 guests, 0 anonymous users

Skin Designed By Evanescence at IBSkin.com