The answer to any questions you have at the end of this chapter is probably 'yes'. And it'll probably be the most evil answer available.
Oh, and yes, liberal use of Slide's 'creative' Spellbooks is used. I try not to break rules, merely bend them. (You don't need dice in a story!)
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Chapter 145: Confrontations
Reynald adjusted his grip on the Sword of Chaos slightly, taking a deep breath and revelling in the freshness around them. Were they not heading towards the conclusion of such a vital mission, he would have stopped for a while to admire the Tree of Life as they stood on its boughs. You could smell the crispness in the air around them, almost taste nature. It was by his gauntleted hand as he stretched it out to a near ‘twig’ in the massive tree, under his heavy metal boots as he strode at the back of the group, filling his nostrils and his throat with each breath he took. He had never placed much stock in nature before, considering the devotion of druids such as Jaheira to be admirable but unnecessary – though had quickly realised not to express that sentiment to the half-elf – but here and now, he could see what they had been fighting for. This part of nature wasn’t merely something away from the cities and the people. This was something beyond them.
And Irenicus was trying to destroy it. For the first time, Reynald felt something stirring in him vaguely resembling a desire to fight for a cause. Until now, he had been fighting for the cause of someone else so it would serve his own ends. He could see now that this was hardly the path that would return him to Torm – the right action, done for the wrong reasons, was no right action at all. But to fight to preserve this, preserve the life he had seen, in all shapes and sizes… that was a reason.
They had so far despatched the parasites Irenicus had placed at key points on the Tree, finding them to be quite easy to deal with once their guards were eliminated. One by one, the barriers standing in the way of the party and Irenicus were lowering, and as they fell the tension rose. Harrian was becoming shifty, over-exerting himself in combat and remaining stoically silent outside, and it was starting to affect the others. Imoen had failed a few spells as time had gone by, and although Jaheira had been doing her best to keep them calm and had been constantly telling them to keep their guard, Reynald was not concerned. This was something he saw occasionally before the great battles; warriors would get nervous, make minor mistakes, and then agonise about making bigger mistakes when the fight finally came. But when it did… all was calm. All went like clockwork. Either they died smoothly or they lived smoothly. And although Reynald now had a strong reason to desire to win the fight beyond self-preservation, he was still ready to accept death. If his death could further the life of someone else who had more to live for then so be it.
The party maintained a constant pace as they strode through the branches of the Tree, heading for the very centre, where Irenicus would be, with Ellesime his captive. Harrian was bouncing from foot to foot with pent up energy on every other step, moving the Equaliser through complicated sword patterns as he walked, other hand itching towards the Daystar. He seemed to have decided to use one blade only, however, so that he was freer to move and dodge as he wished. With their packs deposited at the entrance to the Tree, all they had with them were their weapons and their armour. All they were equipped for was battle, not adventure. All they needed to be able to do was to fight at full strength, be as dangerous as possible, and bring Irenicus down.
The mad mage – for, although Reynald had never seen The Exile face to face, with the tales he had been told he had come to think of him as mad – was in the centre as predicted. There was no way they could have approached discreetly; their path towards him was a clear one, and as they emerged from the branches and leaves he spotted them instantly. The Queen was in a cage of sorts to Irenicus’ left, looking as cool and composed as Reynald had ever expected of nobility – especially elven nobility – and regarded them with calm eyes on their approach.
Irenicus, similarly, had a lack of reaction. His arms were folded across his chest, and he seemed utterly unconcerned by either the arrival of the Bhaalspawn’s party or the dozen or so bodies of fallen elves littered around his feet. His eyes swept over them all imperiously, and as Reynald looked into the blue orbs even icier than his own, he felt a shiver run up his spine. Harrian was right. There was something about this man which was utterly, utterly empty – he was not made of nightmares, as Reynald imagined the greatest of foes would be. He was made of the void, and that somehow made him even more terrifying than the fears the Fallen Paladin usually harboured in his heart.
“You live?” Irenicus asked, his voice as cold and unconcerned as his eyes. “You have only a fraction of your soul left, and yet you continue to defy me?” Although his words spoke of incredulity, he looked and sounded utterly bored by the goings-on.
Reynald blinked. This man, this monster, had decimated an entire city and was trying to commit an offence against the very gods themselves – and he didn’t care. Reynald could, at last, feel anger rising within himself – hot, burning, empowering, and threatening to control. Anger was something that, until now, he had stamped down on, not wishing to allow it to guide his hand to more sins, but now he embraced it, tasted it, allowed it to flow through his limbs. Anger, he knew, was the most dangerous of weapons to harness, as it could so easily be turned on oneself – but if one succeeded, they would have strength greater than any cause or love could give.
Harrian’s expression was similarly smouldering, and his gloved hand was shaking a little as he pointed a finger at Irenicus. Reynald hoped it was from fury rather than fear. “Yes. I do. I live. I continue to pursue you. And I shall finish you, Irenicus.” The thief paused for a moment to take a deep, calming breath. “Bodhi has fallen. Your pets are defeated. The city is cleared. You are beaten, Irenicus.”
“I am not beaten until I fall,” the mage replied calmly. “Bodhi and the city are irrelevant. I shall finish you off, and then I shall resume my plans here. I have waited too long for this, planned too long, and fought too hard to be defeated. The Tree is all that matters. I shall harness its divine energy and be elevated to godhood. And you cannot stop me.”
Harrian blinked. “I think that I can. Or I shall die in the attempt. Enough is enough, Joneleth.” For once, Irenicus reacted. There was no flinch, no obvious shift in appearance, but he seemed sapped of his cold indifference for a moment. “Yes. I know who you are. I know why you do this. This is not how it must be done.”
“Must? What do you know of these things, Bhaalspawn! You are but a pawn, a tool in my game, an annoying pest that I should have eradicated long ago instead of allowing Bodhi to have her fun. You know nothing of this, Corias,” Irenicus said, his voice bland but with a greater note of urgency this time.
“No, Joneleth.” Reynald blinked, and glanced over to see Ellesime clambering to her feet. Harrian was staring at her with an odd expression – something mixed between confusion and recognition, though he did not say anything.
“Your plan is failing,” the queen continued. “The Tree of Life will not fall. You will not succeed as you once had. And it does not have to be this way.” She rested heavily against the bars of her cage, her eyes fixed on Irenicus’ frozen ones. “You were once a man I loved, Joneleth. And then you gave up everything – me, your life, your spirit – for your ambition and desire for power.”
Irenicus stared impassively. “I did not give up anything. I reached further for that which I deserved, for all that I could achieve, until you stopped me, you tore away my life and my spirit. I did not do this to myself. You did.”
“Because of what you had done! I did everything to spare your life, Joneleth!” Ellesime pressed, the tension on her face clear even to Reynald, though she still spoke with a note of great urgency. “Return to us, Joneleth. Return to what you were. It can be done.”
Irenicus paused for a moment, and behind the mask he wore it seemed as if he was actually smiling. Reynald shivered. “You say it can be done now that I have you in a cage. It is too late for that, Ellesime.” He grew grim again. “It cannot be done. I cannot feel what I was. You tore all of that away, my queen. You tore away all there was of my elven spirit so that all I had left to cling to was the memory. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing.”
He drew himself up to his full, imposing height to stare at them all again, turning his back on Ellesime and looking at the party. “You understand vengeance, don’t you, Bhaalspawn? Of course you do, it is what has driven you so far. So understand my vengeance, Corias. I swore that the day would come when I would stride amongst these fools and fill their hearts with fear, that the day would come when I would ascend to what was rightly, mine. You may have disrupted my plans for the Tree, but they can be continued once I have dealt with you! At the very least, I swore that at some point vengeance would be in reach! And I shall have it!”
Minsc launched forward, Warblade upraised, Boo squeaking indignantly. Normally Reynald found the hamster amusing, but right then there was something very disconcerting about a battling rodent. “Minsc and Boo shall have their vengeance too!” the giant Rashemani cried. “You slew Dynaheir, our witch, without a thought! You shall pay!”
Irenicus stared calmly. “I do not know to whom you refer, and I care not. But I do not have time to deal with those such as you.” He turned and pointed over at Minsc’s left, murmuring an incantation Reynald recognised as a Summoning Spell, but unlike one he had ever heard.
Why it was so unfamiliar became clear seconds later, as a score of gnolls burst into the air – beasts like for any other Summoning Spell, but in far greater numbers than Reynald was used to seeing.
Minsc stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the gnolls bearing down on the party. “Fight the evil mage!” he bellowed, adjusting his grip on his sword. “I have the dog men. Yes, Minsc remembers you well, evil dog men!” And with that he was gone, launching himself into a mass of snarls and battling bodies to do as much damage as Reynald was sure he could deal out.
Harrian had hardly blinked during this entire exchange, also on his way towards Irenicus. Magic missiles launched by the mage were deflected by the enchanted buckler into the branch at his feet, but this distracted him enough that when the Equaliser was brought down in a blow aimed for the mage’s head, it hit only a magical barrier. The swashbuckler staggered for a moment, the impact jarring his wrist, before leaping back and turning his head to yell at the rest of the party, who were hot on his heels. “Imoen! Bring those protections down!”
Reynald was directly behind him, the spellcasters of the party preparing their incantations to summon all the power they could possibly have – this was not a time to hold back for ‘more important battles’ – and swung the Sword of Chaos in an attack that should have split Irenicus’ torso in half.
It broke through the shimmering barrier, but when it collided with the mage, his skin was solid and impenetrable, and the blade merely deflected off, leaving a slight dent but no lasting magic.
Reynald spat, shaking his head. “Blasted cowardly mages,” he mumbled, regrouping and glaring at Irenicus.
The mage actually acknowledged him for a second. “Who shall live where you shall not.” Then he raised his hands and mumbled another incantation swiftly, in time for an Aganazzar’s Scorcher to hit Reynald in the chest and send him flying back through the air, in the direction of where Minsc had wiped out half of the gnolls.
Reynald’s sword went flying from his hand and skidding along the boughs of the tree before pitching over the edge, and as the Fallen Paladin his the floor with a thump and a groan, he swore loudly. Clambering to his feet wasn’t too easy in full plate, and made even harder by the gnoll bearing down on him.
Forgetting Irenicus for the moment, Reynald snatched a short sword from the scabbard on his right side and parried the halberd blow aimed at his skull. A quick twist detached metal from pole, and a slash ended the attack of the comparatively weak monster, but it prompted Reynald to still look at Minsc.
The Rashemani warrior was having a difficult time of so many foes at once. His red dragon scale had a giant slash in it across his back, and although Reynald could not see the blood from the wound against the colour of Minsc’s armour, the crimson stream running down his face from a cut above his eye told of the challenge. And yet the ranger did not falter, but continued in an effective pattern of block, parry, kill, block, parry, kill.
Reynald hurried forwards, pausing to despatch another gnoll that faced him, unused to fighting at the close quarters his short sword forced him into. It was a matter of much jumping back and dodging, then getting in close for an attack before withdrawing rapidly, and Reynald knew he was not quite fast enough on his feet to be as effective as someone like Imoen might be.
A great cry then filled the air, and Reynald’s first thoughts were of the rest of the party, battling Irenicus. But no. Anomen was picking himself up off the floor, granted, looking battered and bloody, but not in that much pain. Imoen was interchanging between her arrows aimed at Irenicus and a spell to bring down his protections, the concentration and determination on her face all too plain to see. Jaheira and Harrian had settled into a pattern of combat, one striking and then the other, forcing Irenicus to focus his attentions on both sides in a continuous battering. Although the fight looked like a challenge, they were not screaming.
Reynald ducked a swipe from the halberd and then lodged his short sword in the gnoll’s gut before pushing the monster way from him. As it fell, he saw the source of the cry.
Minsc was on his knees, too bloodied for Reynald to see how many wounds he had suffered, defending himself weakly against the gnolls. Even as the Fallen Paladin redoubled his effort, fighting and killing quicker to get to him, a gnoll raised a spear it grasped, then launched it through the Rashemani ranger’s chest. It exploded on the other side, and Minsc grew suddenly quiet, his eyes wide and staring. He took one great struggling painful breath… then was silent.
Without thinking, Reynald charged forward, taking up Minsc’s fallen Warblade and swinging at the gnolls in a swipe that killed two of them. Boo was sitting on Minsc’s chest, sniffing at the ranger’s face, squeaking piteously. The rest of the party had been locked in combat too much to notice, save Imoen, whose eyes were wide and scared as Reynald spared a glance for her. Then she turned her bow in his direction, and felled two gnolls in quick succession.
With the numbers reduced and two of them focusing, the summoned army was eradicated without as much effort as there had once been, but Irenicus still remained. Reynald withdrew the Warblade from the body of the last gnoll, reached down to scoop up Boo – not even knowing why, exactly – then turned to face the mad mage, ready to rejoin the fray.
But before he reached there, a final spell from Imoen knocked down the shimmering barrier before him, and Harrian’s latest blow took the mad mage in the chest.
With a great cry of pain, Irenicus fell back, collapsing to his knees, struggling for breath as Minsc had seconds before. Reaching the others, Reynald could summon no pity for this man as the mage convulsed briefly, then fell to his back, all breath or movement stopping.
A great silence settled upon them all as they stared at Irenicus’ fallen body, then they all looked at Harrian. His eyes were closed, his brow creased in thought and hope, but as they looked, he became increasingly concerned. Then he looked at them at last. “Nothing,” he whispered hoarsely, a touch of panic creeping in. “I feel… nothing.”
Then everything went black.
