In The Cards

At the end of the darkest tunnel, you will occasionally see a bright light. If you are very lucky, it won’t be a dragon just about to breathe fire in your face.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“So,” Edwin said, “now I simply have to device a way to get us past the guards. That should be simple enough for a man of my overpowering intellectual skill.”

Just turn yourself invisible, Softpaws said, flicking her tail impatiently. We don’t have any time to waste, you know.

“Yes. Er…unfortunately I do not have any invisibility spells memorized at the moment. But I do have these.” The Red Wizard proudly displayed two small bottles, one of them filled with a bright purple liquid, the other with a red one. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of using these earlier.”

Softpaws eyed them suspiciously. What do they do? Can they give you proper night eyes and glossy fur?

“Much better. (And besides, my ‘fur’ is perfect already.) No, these are those rare potions that Imoen bought at the Nashkel fair. I’ve been doing some careful studying and experimentation on them, and now I know exactly what they do. One will raise my already awesome mental capacity to godlike proportions (even more godlike, I should say) and the other will gift me with equally impressive strength. That will be just the edge we need in rescuing Zaerini. Now, a full dose would last approximately 24 hours, but there is no sense in wasting it. Just a sip should do the trick.”

Are you sure you know what you’re doing, wizard?

“Of course I’m sure! I know exactly what I’m doing. Now watch, and tremble with awe at the magnificent powers of Edwin Odesseiron and his Potency Potions!” Without further ado, Edwin swallowed some of the red potion. It tasted a bit like strawberries, actually. And of alcohol.

Edwin felt his head exploding. Not literally, but that was the general feeling. It was as if he had been locked in a dark room all his life, and now somebody had thrown open the door and the windows, and the sweet and warm smells of a summer meadow was streaming through them, along with golden sunlight. His mind was swelling, expanding, and things that had previously been confusing suddenly became ludicrously simple. I am…I am a GOD! Practically anyway. Why, with this power I could take on the world all by myself! I could challenge Sarevok to a duel, and I would be able to beat him with one hand tied behind my back. I’m certain I could learn to use a sword on the way, that will be no problem for my marvelous mind.

“I’m going in to fight Sarevok to the death now,” Edwin said, a wide and drunken smile plastered all over his face. “You don’t have to come, unless you wish to be my admiring audience. Then I’ll get Zaerini out of there, and then I’ll become Supreme Ruler of the World, and then I’ll challenge the gods and Ao himself, and then…”

Wizard, have you become insane? You’re acting like you’ve had too much catnip.

“No, no, I feel excellent.” Edwin suddenly noticed that something was amiss, now that he thought about it. His muscles were trembling painfully from the effort of carrying his staff. In fact, even the weight of his robes was trying to drag him down to the ground. “Oh…it seems there is a side effect of decreased strength. Well, that will be easily cured.”

Wizard, DON’T do it!

Too late. Edwin had already taken a swig of the purple potion. This one tasted somewhat like blueberries. And alcohol. Strong alcohol. And now he could feel new strength pumping through his body, glorious strength like nothing he had ever experienced before. “Ha!” he triumphantly said, picking up an old discarded horseshoe off the ground and easily bending it using only two fingers. “Tremble in fear, Sarevok! Edwin Odesseiron, the strongest man in the WORLD is coming to tear you to pieces! (Better hide beneath the bed right now.)” Manfully, Edwin took a few determined steps towards the door of the Iron Throne building, and immediately fell flat on his face. It had suddenly become very difficult to coordinate his legs, not to mention his arms and head.

Idiot! Softpaws hissed. That one made you about as graceful as a slug. And the one before that made you lose what little sense you had.

Edwin wasn’t easily discouraged however. “Nonsense, this will work beautifully. Just watch.” Grinning inanely, he knocked on the door, and it collapsed inward with a loud crash. Edwin smiled with drunken ecstasy and gave his hand a loving look. “I could really get used to this…” he said.

A short while later Edwin was wavering along one of the long corridors inside the Iron Throne compound, stubbornly trying to keep his balance, a task that was incredibly difficult under the influence of the Purple Potion. For one thing, he kept running into walls, and the walls kept breaking when he struck them. The Iron Throne was starting to resemble a cheese. There had been some guards in the way, and he had launched spell after spell at them, laughing insanely at the ridiculous ease with which the magic flowed through them. Now he had no spells left, and his firewand was used up as well, but he didn’t mind that at all, because the incredible strength was also highly satisfactory. As he descended a flight of stairs into the depths of the dungeon five heavily armed guards ran towards him, waving swords. “No, no!” Edwin said and wagged his finger at them. “You have it all wrong. None may stand against the Dread Wizard, you really should know that by now.”

As the guards charged him he picked one of them up with one hand, intending to throw him at his comrades. Unfortunately, he dropped the guard on his own foot instead, and reflexively tried hopping about on one leg, swearing. The hopping on one leg proved much too difficult in his current state though, and he tripped and fell at the feet of the puzzled guardsmen. Fortunately, his arms flailed about so violently as he fell that he knocked them all out, and one of them slid all along the corridor before he stopped.

Now do you get why you shouldn’t play with strange potions? Softpaws huffed. You look incredibly silly, and it’s all your own fault.

“Hmpf. You sound just like my…” Edwin’s currently non-existent common sense would probably have caused him to blurt out something he would rather keep secret, if not for the fact that at that moment he noticed something very interesting. A ring of keys at one of the unconscious guards’ belt. “Ah, just what we need,” he said. “Come along then, kitty.”

Softpaws stared incredulously after him before she collected herself enough to run after him. KITTY? Are you begging for claw marks in your groin?

“But you are a pretty little kitty…”

The cat’s mental voice sighed deeply with exasperation. Let’s just go.

Edwin kept wandering through the dungeon, going slowly deeper, searching for Zaerini. So far his search had been fruitless, and now he was starting to get tired. Slowly, the strange euphoria caused by the potions was fading, until eventually he found himself deep inside a dark dungeon, with not a single spell prepared for casting, and feeling oddly lightheaded. “What…what happened?” he asked. “How did we get here?”

What’s the matter? Softpaws remarked in an acid tone. Not interested in challenging Sarevok to single combat any longer? What a shame, I would so enjoy seeing you sliced, diced and dismembered after this little trip. Then she suddenly fell silent, and raised her head, as if listening. My Kitten! I can sense her again!

“What? Where?”

Close! Very close, come with me! Oh, we must hurry!

The black cat raced off down the dungeon corridor, and Edwin had to struggle to keep up with her. At least he was once again able to move without tripping. Finally Softpaws stopped outside a heavy wooden door, staring intently at it and making an odd keening noise. In there. Get her out wizard, please get her out quickly!

Edwin could feel his fingers trembling as he hurriedly tried key after key in the lock. Please let one of them fit. Please, please, please… Of course he could always drink some more potion and simply bash the door in, but he’d rather avoid that. Finally, the door swung open, and the wizard froze on the threshold, staring in horror and despair at the sight that met him.

Images fluttered through his mind like frightened, insane birds, disconnected from each other, only reluctantly coming together into a whole.

FLASH

A slight female form on the floor, hunched over as if in pain.

FLASH

Blood on the ground, on the dirty straw of the cell. Not that much, a few scattered splotches, but it seemed like a wide river.

FLASH

Bright red hair, dirty and disheveled, like the petals of a wilting flower, hiding the face.

FLASH

Clothes in disarray, torn in places, pale and vulnerable skin exposed to the cold and damp, here and there marked with dark bruises…scratches as if from fingernails…was that a bitemark?

FLASH

The look in her blazing golden eyes as she slowly, painfully raised her head, the look of a wounded beast, in pain and fear, prepared to bite anybody who would approach, even those it usually loves.

Softpaws flew across the floor like a black lightning bolt, leaping at her mistress, frantically nudging and petting her, her mental voice degenerated into a frenetic and distressed maelstrom of emotions. Zaerini blinked, and moved her hand a little, touching the soft fur as if she couldn’t quite believe that the cat was actually there. Then her eyes fixed on the wizard. “Ed…Edwin?” she asked. “Is it really you?”

The desperate hope in the half-elf’s weakened voice was too much for the Red Wizard, and he practically collapsed onto the floor at her side. Momentarily unable to speak, he gathered the bard’s exhausted form close to him, cradling her head in his lap as he stroked her hair over and over again, unable to stop himself. “I’m sorry,” Edwin said, his voce sounding curiously dead and hollow. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I came too late, didn’t I? He…he…”

Zaerini shuddered briefly, but then she grasped his hand, squeezing it. “No…he didn’t. Not…not quite. Though he meant to, and the things he did…the things he did were bad enough. I…I can’t talk about it right now.”

“No, no of course you can’t,” Edwin said, aware that he was babbling. “We need to get you out of here, first of all. No, first of all you need this.” He poured some of the antidote into the half-elf’s mouth, relieved to see her breathing grow a little easier, and some color return to her cheeks. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see,” Edwin went on, hugging the woman in his arms more tightly to him. “”We’ll just get out of here, and then…then when you get strong enough I will kill Sarevok for doing this. I swear it.” Kill him. Mutilate him. Slowly dismember him and scatter his ashes to the four winds.

“No…” the half-elf said, weakly shaking her head. “Not Sarevok. It wasn’t him who did this. It…it was his father.”

For a wild moment Edwin got an image of Bhaal’s avatar, risen from the dead in order to molest his own child. “His father?”

“Yes. Reiltar Anchev. The Iron Throne leader.” Zaerini’s face was still pained, her eyes still filled with shadows behind their normal golden light, but now there was determination in her voice. Determination and burning hatred. “But you will not kill him.”

“I won’t?”

“No, Eddie. Because I will. But first we must get out of here.”

Hush! Softpaws suddenly said. I heard something.

Both the bard and the Red Wizard listened intently, and then they heard it as well. The sound of heavy boots pounding down a stone stair, far above them, but rapidly approaching. And now there was the sound of a voice as well, an all too familiar voice, roaring in the distance.

“Stand aside!” Sarevok’s deep voice boomed above them. “The man who gets in my way will die. I will not be detained. I will go down to my father’s captive, and Sarevok asks no man’s permission.”

“Is there another way out of here except past him?” Zaerini asked, her face tense and fearful.

Edwin mutely shook his head.

“No,” the bard glumly said. “There wouldn’t be, would there? That would be way too simple…”