In The Cards

Knowing what will, what must happen can certainly be a valuable aid. But it is rarely a comfort.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

Zaerini dreamt. Somehow she was also aware that she was dreaming, though she wasn't sure how she knew. She was wandering through an endless maze, every gray wall identical to the one that had come before it. The passages twisted and turned around her, constantly shifting and changing places. She was looking for something, she knew that much, and she knew that she would find it at the center of the maze. But she couldn't remember what she was searching for, and she couldn't find her way, even though she had tried every trick she could think of.

I'm not going to find it, am I? she thought, pushing her red hair out of her eyes with a worried frown. The passage she had been following ended in yet another wall. And I'll never get out of here unless I do.

And then there was somebody else in the maze with her. A woman stepped around the corner and paused warily in front of the half-elf. She was slender but strong like the narrow blade she held, and she moved with casual ease, like one well-trained in the art of combat. Her black hair was gathered into a neat braid, and dark and slanted eyes gave Rini a solemn look out of an olive-skinned face. A Kara-Turan, by the looks of it. She was beautiful, beautiful and deadly like sunlight glinting off a sword. Zaerini recognized her all too well by her movements and bearing.

"You!" the half-elf hissed. "I know you, you were with Sarevok! You helped kill Gorion!" Before she knew what she was doing her sword had leapt into her hand and that familiar raging fire was rushing through her blood, screaming for blood, wanting to kill. But the woman simply stood there, a serious and sad expression on her face, waiting to defend herself but not actually attacking.

What am I doing?! Rini thought to herself. I don't want to kill her! At least not like this!

THEY KILLED GORION, screamed that other voice, the voice of her sire. SHE DESERVES DEATH! KILL HER! LET YOUR BLADE DRINK HER BLOOD!

No, 'father'. I will not. She is here for a reason. I wish to know what that reason is, not simply slay her. Go back inside your cave. You won't win this time.

"Please," the woman said, her voice soft but with the hint of steel beneath. "I must speak with you. I ask you to listen to me."

"I'm listening," Rini said, her eyes still burning with hot golden fire. "Speak."

"You are lost. You will need to find your way, and I have been sent to help you do that. You must come with me, or you will never get out of here."

The half-elf thought about this for a moment. "Fine," she hissed. "Lead the way. But if you're leading me into a trap you will be sorry."

"It is no trap." The woman's eyes burned with determination. "I will help you find the one you seek, and I will ask you to do something for me in return, though it will be your own decision to do so…or not. Follow me." She walked off into the labyrinth, and Zaerini followed her warily. After some time they came to another passage. "Shhh," the strange warrior warned. "He waits within. Do not let him see you yet. Just watch."

Rini peeked around the corner, and then she was forced to choke down a cry. Within the next empty chamber of the labyrinth Sarevok paced back and forth, growling softly to himself like some sort of wild beast. He looked much as she remembered him, still wearing that atrocious spiky armor, still in possession of a tall and powerful body and an almost regal bearing. Golden eyes still glowed like open furnaces from within the darkness of his helmet. But something was different about him. His armor, as well as what little could be seen of his skin were gray, like the stone of the labyrinth itself. Gray and covered with thousands of minute cracks, as if he were a statue about to crumble into dust at any second. And from within some of those cracks light shone, a light that felt somehow evil and unholy. Sarevok seemed not to be aware of any of this. He simply paced, like an animal trapped in too small a cage.

"You see now?" the strange woman whispered into Rini's ear. "We…we are losing him. The power is eating him, eating him from within, taking away that which makes him human. That…with which I fell in love. None of us can reach him. He does not know, he does not see. He must be made to see, or all will be lost." Her slim fingers seized the bard's arm in a firm grip. "It…it may be too late for me. But you may still be able to make a difference."

Zaerini watched the other woman uneasily. She wasn't sure quite what to believe about all of this. "Even if I believed you," she said, "why do you think I would help him? He killed my father. He wants to kill me. And even if I wanted to help him, what makes you think I possibly could?"

"You know better than that. You have felt the call of the blood, the call of the rage. You have killed and it has sometimes given you pleasure to do so. Already you have started to wonder what makes you different from him. For you are different, and yet alike. And in that may salvation for you both be found."

"Salvation?"

The woman's eyes were even more serious than before. "You will be given a chance to save him," she said. "And you must take it, you must try to draw him back to himself. If not for his sake, then for your own. Your fates are tied together. There will come a time when he must be there to aid you…or else you will certainly die."

Rini shivered. She didn't doubt that the stranger was speaking the truth, or that she thought she was. But it was all so…outlandish. Me? Save Sarevok? And him helping me? It sounded insane. And yet…she believed it. "I…suppose I will try," she said. "If I can even remember this once I awaken."

The stranger smiled, and her face became radiant. "You will remember when you need to," she said. "And…I thank you. As will he, should you succeed." Her form shimmered and melted away, as did Sarevok and the labyrinth. And Zaerini slept, her sleep haunted by uneasy dreams of her brother.

Edwin too, was dreaming, and aware of it. He dreamt that he was wandering across an endless plain, a plain divided into the perfect black and white squares of a chessboard. He wasn't alone, but his companions were making him increasingly worried. Next to him, on his right side, walked a large cat, almost the size of a leopard, but in the shape of a normal cat, holding her tail very high. Her beautiful coat was a brilliant red, the color of fire. For the cat was a 'she', of that the wizard was certain. The fur was soft beneath his questing fingers as he touched the back of the cat, so very soft. The animal turned her head to give him a look of amused indulgence, even affection. The golden eyes almost seemed to burn. And wherever the cat neatly put down a silent paw the ground did burn. Fire spread in her wake, leaving smoldering pawprints, now and then creating leaping flames, dancing and flickering as if alive and conscious.

The cat wasn't his only companion though. On his other side walked a huge black wolf, his gait smooth and even, as noiseless as that of a ghost. The wolf carried himself with effortless pride, looking like he expected whatever he encountered to get out of his way…quickly. Edwin's left hand was almost buried in the thick and glossy fur of the wolf's neck, as deep a black as if it was made from pure shadow, warm and comforting to the touch, and he could feel powerful muscles ripple beneath. Then the wolf, too, turned his head to calmly regard the wizard, gifting him with a fond look as he bared an impressive set of white fangs in a lupine grin. There was frost clinging to the black fur, frost and a few snowflakes. Wherever the great paws of the wolf touched the ground it froze as well, snow and ice gathering in ever larger drifts.

Edwin watched the two animals with growing unease. One on his right side, the other on his left. It seemed they had finally noticed each other by now, and neither was pleased with the discovery. The cat hissed, crouching and baring needle-sharp claws. The wolf lowered his head as if preparing to pounce, snarling silently. And Edwin was caught in the middle, holding on to both, trying to keep them apart.

"You won't be able to do that much longer," said an arrogant voice. Edwin hurriedly turned his head to see who was addressing him. Then he gaped silently. It was himself, standing some distance away, wearing the same red robes he currently wore. His own face, identical in every detail, with a very superior look in the eyes. "Really, you ought to have figured that out yourself by now."

"You're…me?" Edwin asked, feeling very confused and still trying desperately to keep the two angry animals apart.

"Brilliant. Whatever tipped you off? The handsome face? The charming voice? The tendency to place your nearest and dearest in mortal danger?"

"There's no need to be like that."

"But there is. After all, who would you possibly trust enough to take advice from, either than yourself?" The copy paused for a moment and regarded the wolf and the cat. "Well, apart from them. But you can't really talk to them about this, now can you? That would only make things worse. And should ice and fire come to fight they will consume each other."

"What do you want to tell me then?"

"Simply this." The copy looked extremely serious. "If you wish to keep them both safe, then you must let them both go."

"But I can't! They'll kill each other!"

"Not like that! Of course I don't mean for you to sic them on each other. Don't be absurd. No…you must drive them off. Make them keep their distance from you. That is the only way to protect them both. Not yet, but when the time comes."

Edwin felt a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked from one animal to the other, not wanting to comprehend the words spoken by his twin. "D-drive them off…but…"

"Do you wish them to die, then? If you make the wrong decision, then one or both will. If you make the right one, then both will survive. Do you value your own immediate happiness above their lives?"

"No! NO! But…how…"

The eyes of the double were dark and filled with sorrow. "Your own words will serve you as they always have…on both accounts. I warn you now…words can hurt worse than any physical weapon. You will see. Go ahead now. Do it. Before it is too late. You know you have to."

And Edwin did. "Go away," he shouted to both animals. "Get away from me! Leave me! Leave me be!" He went on and on, repeating the same phrases over and over, cursing, screaming, sounding as hurtful as he could. And it worked. Oh, how it worked. The words struck both cat and wolf like whips, drawing actual blood. At first both persisted, staying by him, trying to make him stop, each trying to draw him closer. But in the end they were both forced to give up, the pain of the whips too keen for them to endure any longer. They sprang apart, leaping in different directions.

The red cat crouched on the ground, the blood of her wounds a darker red against her fiery coat. She licked at her wounds, but the blood kept flowing, hissing and steaming as it hit the flaming ground beneath her. She was baring her teeth at Edwin by now, hissing furiously, raising her paw as if to swat at him in her pain. The look in the burning yellow eyes was one of extreme hurt and confusion, but there was anger as well, anger and bloodlust. He wondered if she would spring and tear his heart out. He wanted her to. After all, he deserved it. But then the cat turned around, gave him a final accusing look across her shoulder and disappeared into the raging flames behind her. Gone.

The wolf, too, bled from many wounds. The blood was almost invisible against the thick black fur, hiding the wounds, but red drops fell like a steady rain, blooming like crimson roses in the heavy snow at the animal's feet. The black wolf watched Edwin unwaveringly, looking almost incredulous at first. And then that emotion gave way to rage, rage as cold as that of the snow and wind themselves, but beneath that there was pain, both new and ancient. And Edwin knew that he had caused that pain, and he wanted nothing more than to bare his throat and feel those sharp teeth take his life. But the wolf simply threw his head back and howled, a mournful cry like that of a soul in torment, and then turned to disappear into the falling snow without looking back. Lost.

Gone. Lost. They had passed out of his reach, and he couldn't get them back, couldn't undo what he had done. Edwin wanted to cry, to scream, to plead forgiveness. But he could do nothing. The giant chessboard was already fading, disappearing.

"Remember," his double said to him. "What is gone may come back. What is lost may return. This need not be forever. And if you win through all will be well." But the words were small comfort, and as Edwin slept on he walked in despair through his dreams, knowing himself all alone.