The Fog of War (PG-13 for situations, concepts, language)

[perricath]

This is a long short, running about 10,000 words. It's definitely entering the Banana Republic of Novella. I write fanfic when I've got a little bit of "gas" left in the tank after writing something else and don't have enough to create a new setting and do the world building. They're good characterization exercises.

It takes place after the Battle of Saradush and is told in part through diary entries by the MC, Ellanaine.

The Fog of War

Night, Saradush

There’s this... taste... I guess, that you get in the back of your throat during a battle. It’s part thirst, because it’s hot and you don’t have time to take a drink from your stale water bladder; because some Orog is more than willing to take advantage of the moment and have brain stew for dinner.

It’s part the rush, that copper taste of blood and excitement. That taste makes me sick. The human influence upon me, I suppose.  Maybe elves feel this way too, not that I’ve ever had a chance to ask one. Just how would I go about that? It’s not exactly a polite conversational opening. ‘So, do elves get a rush that makes you a little nauseous when you’re in battle?’ Somehow, I think even I might not leave that encounter standing.

There’s dust and dirt, and of course blood. And the scent of death. That one, I can’t describe.

I’m so tired of killing just to survive. Today is one of those days where I had to go sit in the pocket plane and listen to Cespanar hum and Sarevok complain just so I remembered why I’m doing this.

I’m doing this because  the last thing I want to do is spend eternity with the not quite alive entity that is my half-brother and my dead father’s imp... who is now my butler in some weird way. That’s why I’m sitting here outside a dead city in the middle of the night taking the third watch when everyone else is asleep. So that no one can see me cry.

It would kill Kelsey, I know that. He hates to see me cry because ... I don’t know why. Because I think he is as afraid as I am to admit any weakness. To admit that tomorrow may be... the end. Not for him, of course. For me.

I don’t think he knows how many times we’ve raised him. Lathlander knows,  but I’ve lost count. He gets so involved in the battle, runs out of Minute Meteors, and grabs his staff and thinks he’s Minsc. It would be hilarious if I didn’t have to patch him up afterwards. And I know that if I die, Jaheira will raise him if he needs it and they will all go on.

It’s my own mortality that is the big question. I crept away after the battle this afternoon and went out with the Rod. Yaga-Shura was in one piece after we defeated him - he looked no worse than anyone else I’ve ever resurrected. It was a brand-new rod, too.

And I couldn’t raise him. I raised three Saradushites making sure it worked, but... Yaga-Shura stayed dead.

So will I.

I was quiet all through the rest of the patch up - Minsc took some damage and Imoen really needed some time alone with her spellbook and her bedroll. Though I wonder if she wasn’t doing much what I’m doing now - crying over the past and hoping that the nightmare ends soon. Kelsey made camp, Jahiera said a lot of prayers, and I.... I tried to raise my evil half brother from the dead.

Sometimes I wonder about my sanity.

I haven’t told anyone yet about my little experiment. I know that Jaheira will console me and remind me that all things are part of the cycle; Imoen will insist I stay in the back with her and Kelsey instead of being near the front line; Minsc will try to protect me. And Mazzy will go pray. If Avoreen would have anything to do with an elven archer, I’d pray to her, too.

Kelsey will be out of his mind. He spent a lot of time this afternoon looking in the refugee camps for his brother. Nothing, so far. But then again, Kevim hasn’t shown up in the burial pits, either.  If we’re lucky, Kevim escaped. If not...

I think that’s why we’re still here. A day earlier, and we could have saved so many of them - not the Bhaalspawn, I fear, the Saradushites were far too afraid of them to let them live - but the rest. A day earlier. If we’d just walked faster, stopped less, worried less about spells and more about speed. So we stay to purge the guilt.

Responsible but not culpable. Gorion taught me that. When one of the monks of Alundo grew ill and strange and began peering through cracks in the wall at me at night, Gorion explained madness. “The mad commit their acts, but they are not to blame. They cannot help what happens to them.”

I should stop writing. There is a warm body in my bedroll who will cuddle me close and slake both of our griefs. It is as if we try to replace all of those we kill my bearing them....

I know that Imoen pines for ‘Dalis. I wonder at times if they would have been happy, a demon spawn and a Bhaalspawn. I suppose it’s lucky for the rest of the world that, unlike our father, we have only a limited ability to reproduce. A year together... and nothing. Not even a small scare.



“Sweetheart, come to bed.”

“Conjure me up a bed and I’ll consider it,” she said. He wrapped his cloak around himself and crossed to where she sat on a stump, watching for anyone. He sat down beside her and took the bow from her hand. He saw the journal, but ignored it. If she needed a book to pour out what bothered her, then so be it. Waukeen knew there was enough to bother her.

“There’s no one left. Come to bed. I’ll wake Mazzy and we’ll be fine.” She didn’t move. “Ell, come on. You took the first watch, and I’d bet diamonds to turquoise that you let Minsc sleep through second watch too. And now you’re letting Jaheira sleep through third. You can’t keep running like this. The exhaustion will kill you.”

She started. “You’re right. It will. I’m ordering a late start in the morning. Let me sleep in please? I’ve got one more thing to write and then I’ll be to bed.” She kissed him, a little absently. “Keep the blankets warm, all right?”

“I’m holding you to that, I’m coming back in 600 heartbeats.”

“Fair.”

[perricath]

I wonder where my soul, now that I have it back, will go. Do I have access to the paradise of Lathlander? I’ve worshipped him since I was ... well, however old it was? Or if I devote myself to Kelsey’s goddess, will Waukeen take me?

Or... will I merely fade away? Or will I end up spending eternity with Cespanar and Savarok and a million other Bhaalspawn in our own little universe, where nothing goes right and everything that can go badly will?

If my choices are to fade or to have an eternity in the underworld, I hope I fade.



“Kelsey, you sleep with her, you wake her up! She’s worse now than she ever was before and believe me, she was always a terror to wake up.”  Imoen’s voice carried to her ears and sunlight breached her eyelids. It had to be nearing noon, but she was still asleep. Something must have gone wrong. Jaheira would never let us sleep this long. She sat up with a start, reaching for jerkin and leather doublet even as she rolled out of the bedroll.

“No, Im, I’m letting her sleep. This is the first time she’s slept peacefully since... well, since... you know.”

“If you’re letting me sleep, you should keep your voices down,” she said, relief filling every bit of her body. “No one’s hurt?”

“No, and you should go back to bed. Melissan will take at least a day longer than we will to get to her monastery in the desert - "

“Not if she teleports there,” Imoen said helpfully. “And I think she did.”

“But she knows we’re walking. And we need the rest. Besides, Minsc and Jaheira are busy, Mazzy is organizing the remaining halflings, dwarves and gnomes into some semblance of a society, and you needed your sleep.” Kelsey smiled that sweet grin that broke her heart. “Back to bed with you, love.”

“Too late,” she said. “What were you two up to?”

“Oh, this, that, the other thing,” Imoen said, but her light tone rang false.

“What happened?” she asked, taking a shoulder of each in each hand. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Imoen said. “Really, I mean, we barely knew him, and it’s not like...”

“Who did you find?” She sank onto her stump and held her breath, waiting for the blow.

“It’s been so long, you might not even remember,” Kelsey said. “Imoen’s got a head for faces, you know? And I barely met him...”

“Who, Imoen?”

“Garrick.”

“The bard... the one from Beregost... the one that slept with everything in a skirt?” She stopped, and remembered that Imoen and Garrick had ... “Wanted to, anyway?”

“Yes. That one.”

“I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t mean... Oh, that was insensitive. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been years,” Imoen said. “It’s okay. It’s just... he was kind of... well, my first.... and then well... ‘Dalis..... and both... Are we cursed?” Imoen's false cheer broke and she crumpled into herself. It was all Ellanaine could do to keep her from falling into the muck. She rocked Imoen’s heaving, sobbing body while Kelsey hovered, and then sat down and held them both.

When Imoen cried herself back to sleep, Kelsey went and found Jaheira to watch over her, and then made Ell go for a walk. They headed away from the ruined wreck that was once Saradush, into the nearly lush, green countryside that had supported the city. Once.

“She’ll survive,” Kelsey said after a long while.

“Of course,” she said. “We spawn are made of stern stuff.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just.... She could have loved ‘Dalis. And I think they would have been good for each other. There haven’t been many she’s even shown an interest in.”

“As if there have been for you,” Kelsey prodded gently.

“Well... that’s different,” she said. “Im didn’t know. And while we were running for our lives.... Somehow she never lost sight of her sense of life. I did. Until you came around and decided to shove yourself into my life.”

“Hey, now,” he said, wondering if he should be offended or not.

“I’m glad you did, but.... honestly, for your sake it might have been better if you’d been down on the Docks instead of at the Promanade that day.”   

She turned her back on him, unable to look at his open, honest face. He was too good all at once for her to handle.

“No. The guy you met in Government Park was moody and irritable, scared of his own shadow and bitterly resentful. Me? I just share a face with that guy. I’m glad, even with everything else, that you’ve been with me. That I’ve been with you. That has been the bright spark all of the time, even in the worst of places.”

“How can you say that? I’ve spilled a river of blood, I’ve turned a blind eye when we’ve looted the dead so we could drink their potions and live long enough to find a safe hiding spot for the night. I’ve worked with thieves, con-men, Drow, pirates and negotiated with vampires and Dragons. Me, a bright spark? Kelsey, we need to find you a healer. Your eyes are obviously damaged.”

“No. Because every day you say the same things. You don’t want to kill. You hope everyday that maybe today will be the day that they’ll ask questions before they shoot. That maybe today is the day they won’t want us dead on sight.”

“And it never happens.”

“It will.”

She gritted her teeth. “You’re an optimist.”

He put his arms around her and and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Normally, so are you.”

“We lost normality several weeks ago, Kelsey,” she said and attempted to shrug him off, but he wouldn’t let go.

“It will return. The Time of Troubles ended, and so will this... Chaos. I don’t care what it takes. We’ll find a place of peace.”

She turned in his arms and patted his cheek, kissed his mouth softly, and fled, disappearing into the shadows of the trees like a startled deer. He knew better than to chase.

[perricath]

Evening, Saradush, third day

What happens when this is all over? Somehow assuming that I survive tomorrow’s battle, where do I go? Home to the Umar Hills and fade into the woods, take Kayla as my apprentice, and make occasional trips to Trademeet to catch up on the gossip?

I can’t exactly stay here. Even if this land wasn’t a ruin, it will be generations before the children of any god are welcome here. Gorion didn’t raise me to be an elf. I’m human, regardless of what my blood and ears and vision tell me. So Suldanessellar is out. I’m not sure that Ellisime would be too pleased to have me around as a reminder, anyway. Kelsey is going to want to go home, one of these days, and by all that is holy, how is that going to go?

I can just imagine him introducing me to his mother... “Mom, this is the girl I love, she’s sweet, gentle, and has a mean aim. She’s the best archer in the known world and just happens to be the favored daughter of the dead Lord of Murder.”

She’d probably attack me with a kitchen knife. I know I’d not want my son marrying a me.

I don’t think there’s any place in the known world I can go. Not Beregost, not Nashkel, not Baldur’s Gate. Definitely not Athkatla. I suppose I could take over Brynnlaw..... 


She planned to set out in the early afternoon for the Oasis, but her unplanned trip into the woods to commune with the trees and seek equilibrium had delayed their departure. By the time Ell felt ready to handle even her companions, the sun was setting. Another night on the edges of the dead city wouldn’t be pleasant, but it would be preferable to marching through the dark, deserted countryside. 

She kissed Kelsey upon coming into camp, and told him she loved him,and then went to lie down with Imoen. Im’s eyes were swollen and her head obviously ached; she lay flat and still with the sleeves of her spare robe over her face. Ell lay beside her and felt the tingle of a spell push through her fingers. “Vita. Mortis. Andai aye,”she whispered.

“You used to be able to lay on hands, do you remember?” Im said, putting her arms around Ell’s shoulders and pillowing her head on Ell’s chest. It was a pose they had shared a thousand times since childhood, when formless nightmares of nothing plagued them out of sleep and into each other’s rooms.

“It went away.”

“I’ve got... I can do it.... a little,” Im whispered.

“Shhh.... It’s hard to tell, sis. Especially now. We’re all so tough and scarred anyway, how can you know?”

“Am I going to be his next favored child?” Im whispered. “Is that what these little gifts mean?”

“He’s dead. He has no power on this plane and can’t reach us. He was dead... when we were mere infants.” Ell stroked Im’s hair and tried to calm her. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But what if it does? What if... Will he make me a slayer, too? I had my soul stolen - “

“Imoen. Stop. You have your soul back. So do I. We will never need to be like him, like them, again. Shhh.... how’s your head?”

“Better,” she said, but when she turned on her side, Ell saw Im grimace. It still hurt. She spoke the words and invoked the power again, and this time, it seemed to ease Imoen. When the younger girl slept, Ell crept away.

She had not spoken to Kelsey or Imoen about the vision the Solar gave her, and didn’t know if they had seen it at the same time. The Solar, like most Devae, had her own priorities.

As a child, when she had asked, Gorion had said that her mother died giving birth. Died giving birth to the child that resulted from rape. That her mother had been his lover once, and had been loved long after the pairing broke.

The solar told a far darker, different tale, of a mother drawn into a cult to sacrifice her child. Maybe Gorion had told the tale the way he did so that both of them could maintain a veneer of normalcy. Maybe he had convinced himself over long years and longer wakeful nights that such a fairy tale would be best for his ward.

Of course, when she’d asked about Imoen’s mother, she’d never gotten an answer out of him. She’d have to ask Imoen once of these days if she’d ever asked. Maybe that was the difference - maybe it was Imoen’s mother who had been Gorion’s love and who had died of an unwanted child. Maybe that was what gave Im her sunny disposition and kept dark thoughts of self-destruction at bay.

[perricath]

Morning, Saradush, fourth day. We leave for Athkethran today.

I think I fight because something in me wants to die. It’s not survival anymore; We’ve enough coin to raise a small army and take the entire Sword Coast by storm if we wanted to. Instead we skip about with six, albeit highly trained, people, a few summoned monsters and extra-planar creatures, and a talking sword.

Maybe it is a death wish. Maybe that’s why I hare off across vast unknown reaches and pursue some witch’s burning heart. It can’t be sense. Any sensible person wouldn’t go into a giant’s stronghold.

But if it is a death wish, then why don’t I just do something about it? Why didn’t I give my life force to Sarevok and let him do the work? Why do I keep him imprisoned in the pocket plane, with only his demon wife and children for company?

Or why don’t I end it all myself? It would be... easy to fall on my sword. Or fall on someone else’s sword.


“Twelve hours and no killing,” Minsc’s sword sang out. “I’m getting a little... tired of being in the scabbard, you know. Just a rabbit? Huh? Please?”

They trudged through the drying wilderness towards the Oasis. Lilarcor had not shut up for more than half an hour in at least six hours and Ellanaine’s nerves were about to break. She crossed to Minsc and smiled at him. “Minsc, can I see your sword?”

“Sure, Miss Ell. Which one? Chaos, or Larry or Equal’zer or Flame Tongue? Or do you want a hammer instead? I’ve got - “

“Lilarcor will do fine,” Ell interrupted. “Thanks.”

Minsc handed her the sword, and Ell planted it in the ground. “Larry Lilarcor, are you paying attention?”

“I don’t listen well. I’m a sword,” it replied, sounding for all the world like a petulant fourteen year old.

“Well, it’s up to you. Either shut the hell up, or you stay here. Minsc only keeps you because you’re useful... occasionally. Are we clear?

The sword said nothing.

“Are we clear?” Ell repeated, growing annoyed at this semi-intelligent piece of adamantite and steel.

She asked again. It leapt from the ground and landed, prostrate, if you can call a sword prostrate, at her feet.  Ell picked it up.

“You can talk for a moment.”

“I’ll behave. I’ll talk only to Minsc, just like his hamster. Is that okay?”

“Fair enough,” Ell agreed. “In a soft voice. And unless you want to be left here to rust, you won’t tell him to tell me what your saying.”

“Rats!” the sword cried, but then fell to muttering under it’s ... breath, Ell supposed. She handed Lilarcor back to Minsc and smiled.

“All better,” she said.

“Oh, good! Boo and I find it very amusing that our sword talks to us, isn’t that right, Boo?”

“Well, it will be a quiet sword, now,” Ell said, and moved back into line. Minsc brought up the rear as always, and over the muffled sound of six sets of footsteps, she listened for Lilarcor’s distinctive voice. And only heard indistinct murmurs.

“Ah, thank you, My Lady,” Mazzy said. “That sword.... has spent far too many years in the sewer and it shows.”

Ell nodded. “Out of curiosity, Mazzy, do you think perhaps we should hire a few more blades? Wage earners instead of partners?”

Mazzy granted Ell one of her very calm, quiet gazes, the ones that said clearly, See Jaheira about that fever, right now. “Can you trust anyone we might meet to travel with us, take our coin, and not slit your throat in your sleep?”

Ell sighed. She had a point. “It was just a thought.”

“If we could get a message to some of our former companions,” Mazzy continued, “and spare the time for them to get here, then I would have no objections. Valygar and Keldorn have pure hearts, and Aerie we have loved. But I fear that we cannot spare the time, and unless you have learned some new use for your pocket plane...”

“You’re right, of course. I just... It seems a fool’s errand to be tramping around out here all by ourselves battling the most fearsome creatures misbegotten by... “

“Him.” Mazzy finished.

“Yes.” Ell swallowed. “My siblings. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Kill off my siblings because they’re a threat to the known universe. But what am I? Am I not a threat, as well?”

“Your heart is pure and your intentions are good, Lady Ellanaine. Only good can prevail.” Mazzy always looked far more confident in Ell’s abilities than Ell felt.

Of course Mazzy didn’t have the dreams, didn’t live with the memory of that sick, empty feeling. Mazzy had all the reason in the world to be confident and none to doubt. Ell knew better.

She walked alone most of the day, Kelsey giving her space, for which she was profoundly grateful. But as the sun sank behind them, he came to the vanguard and took her hand.

“You should go back into the center where you’re safe,” Ell said mildly.

“Ell, there is nothing out here but we six. And Boo. No snakes, not even mice. Bugs are hard pressed to survive. Jaheira checked, all right?”  He kissed the back of her hand. “Besides, I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m all right,” Ell said automatically.

“It’s the one thing that keeps you from being truly good, you know,” he said. “This habit you have of making social lies. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re not all right. Or am I only allowed access to your body, and not your mind?”

She flushed and turned away. She knew her ear tips were bright red and hoped that her hood hid them. “I’m... lost in thought.”

“That, my heroine, is obvious; why don’t you tell me where you’re lost in thought and I’ll see if I happen to have a map somewhere on me.”

“Do you really want to hear this, beloved?” she murmured. “My mind is a fairly bleak place.”

“Yes.”

Somehow that one word instilled more confidence than a thousand others would have. It was the tone, the gentle assurance, the unquestioning faith that anything that could be said could only be made better.

“This will never end. How many Bhaal spawn can be left? A dozen, maybe a score? And someone will always want to hunt one more down and use it for something - because of the immortality, or because of the Slayer or ...” She paused and drew breath. “I will spend my life fighting for the peace that will never come.”

He held her hand and said nothing.

“And then assuming that somehow I manage to find peace for myself, to amass enough fortune to pay for a stronghold and enough guards to keep it truly secure... I’m an elf. We live for centuries. And yet, I’m human because Gorion and the monks and Imoen and everyone I was raised with were human. i will live for centuries and lose everyone I love. Because.... I don’t understand elves.”

“There are... ways around that,” Kelsey said. “It’s something... I hate to admit that anything even remotely useful came out of that addled brain, but it’s something that Ceara was working on. And she had it about right, too. A mage, or possibly even a sorcerer wouldn’t have to worry.”

“I’m not sure if that’s comforting or frightening, beloved,” Ell said wanly. “And then there’s the feeling that my entire life has been a lie. My mother was not who I was told she was. My father... well... I can ignore that. He’s gone.” She stared at the horizon for a long moment, but Kelsey held the peace.

“And Imoen so broken, Jaheira so... distant. Were it not for Minsc, I might think the entire world had been stolen away from me.”

“Is that all that’s worrying you?” he asked.

She stopped dead in the road and stared at him. The humor glinted in his eyes and for a split second, she was sure he was mocking her. “Is that all?” She demanded, and then he grinned. “No, I also have a pebble in my boot, my ioun stone is on the fritz and not a mender for miles, I have to heal up my sunburn every two hours and I’m bloody sick and tired of Elven rations!” She stood under a sky too large and shouted. “I am NOT the plaything of Devae and Solars. I’m just a girl, a Ranger who happens to have unfortunate parents! So LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Kelsey watched her, that infuriating grin still on his face. “Feel better?”

Ell gaped, and then found herself laughing, startled at her own outburst. “Yes. I do. Strange, but true.”  She bent over to catch her breath and then bellowed, “Hold, companions! Fall out and make camp!”

“Put the bedrolls well away from the others, darling,” Ell whispered in his ear. “We’ve some lost time to make up.”

[perricath]

Night, the desert of the South, between Saradush and Athkethran

Apparently, it has just been one of those nights for several days now. I’m far better now, but I’m still taking the third watch. Not that that’s so bad, seeing as how Kel will take the fourth, and we’ll probably have some time for talk and if it really is as peaceful as it seems, love again....

Were not the desert such an impossible place to live in, I’d wish we could build our lives here. No one would ever think to tramp across burning sands to intentionally attack a powerful Bhaalspawn; there’s no one living right on top of us and it’s warm. After some of the days slogging through Sword Coast snow, through Amnish mud and rain, the dry desert heat is a blessing. Other than the sunburn, of course. Though it is merely a minor spell to heal it. I guess I could live with that....

It’s the water that makes it impossible. Actually, the lack thereof. Imoen -thankfully - remembers some of the cantrips she picked up in Candlekeep, little things to bring enough water for drinking. Not enough for anything else. I doubt we could dig a well deep enough, and honestly, the last place I want to be at an oasis. Those are too heavily populated for my comfort.

The stars are more visible here than anywhere I have ever been, even at sea. Here, there are no masts and sails to obscure them, no trees, no clouds. They seem close enough to touch. The Bear and the Maiden look neither fierce nor dangerous, and did I not know the tales about them.... Well, I know too many tales.

Imoen whimpers in her sleep occasionally. I don’t want her to have these dreams, but I can’t.... I can’t prevent it happening. Perhaps since she is in full possession of her soul, she will never have the emptiness that leads to the Slayer’s ascendency. Hopefully, she doesn’t remember what that feeling of loss is like. That feeling of fidelity to a memory of a memory of a memory when everything else is empty.


“There is someone coming,” Jaheira said in the darkness. “I feel him, but he is not a foe... I just can’t for the life of me figure out who it is.”

“You’re not serious,” Ell said back. “How would anyone know where we are, and what we need, and how to find us?”

“Yours is a unique heritage, Ellanaine. He’ll be here by morning. And if I were you, I might have conversation with your sister, your lover and your Paladin about what they did while you and Minsc dug the privy.” She rolled over, leaving Ell gaping.


The traveler was first a speck on the eastern horizon, then a dot, then it became obvious that the dot was not one, but at least two. Ell stood on the boulder that had sheltered them throughout the morning, bow in hand and arrows ready to be knocked and flung. Minsc stood below her, his sword thrust into the ground, shield at his feet, and bow in hand. Imoen sat beside her, Kelsey on her other side. Mazzy and Jaheira waited in ambush.

No one spoke. No one took their eyes off the apparition, and moved only long enough to pick up a bottle and sip. The sun rose, warmed, then blazed.

The ninth hour passed, then the tenth. The dots were now distinct figures, two of them robed and cloaked and probably sweltering in this heat. Ell wondered if they would have to kill them or heal them when they were finally within range.

“I’m sending out a Wizard Eye,” Imoen said.

“You know who it is,” Ell replied dryly. “At least I think you do.”

“Not worth taking chances,” Im replied cheerfully. “And I doubt I’ll need the spell later. Now shut up, sister mine.” She glowered, waved and muttered in that peculiar mage way. The eye floated, barely visible, and then soared away.

Moments later, Im grinned. “Right on time,” she said, and dropped everything but three bottles of their precious water. She sprinted across the hard desert floor in a way that made Ell worry about her safety. Heatstroke responded poorly to healing spells.

“I take it this is what you two cooked up last night?” Ell said, turning to Kelsey.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, my love,” he said.

“Difficult creature,” she replied, and put down everything but her bow and quiver... and more bottles of water. “Coming to greet our guests?” she asked her friends.

“Minsc and Boo will remain here in the shade,” he said. “This sun is too much for a miniature giant space hamster. It is kicking our butts too well!”

“I’ll stay to... monitor the patient,” Jaheira said. “Bring them back, won’t you?”

“I too shall hold my peace. You have acquaintances to renew, and those prevail over introductions.” Mazzy handed Kelsey the potions case. “Just in case.”

He nodded. “Right you are. I’ll come, love. Since I’m at least partly responsible.”

As they walked, she asked. “Do you want to explain how you did this?”

“Combination summoning spell and Oracle and Missive. We asked if they’d come, and they said yes. We summoned, but this desert is funny. Magic works strangely and we’ve got very little control.”

“So they had to walk.”

“Yes.”

“Whose egos do I have to soothe?” Ell asked. “ I swear to you, if you summoned Edwin - not that he’d come, the pompous, pusillanimous pissant -- All Gods, I sound like him -- I just may kill you all and remain in the desert like a hermit.”

“We did NOT summon Edwin. Actually, I’ve never met either of them - Kivan and Xan.”

At that moment, Imoen flung herself into the arms of the two men - now close enough to see things like gender - and laughter and greetings drifted faintly to her. She picked up the pace until she saw one of the men - Xan, it looked like - pick Im up, kiss her like she was the last source of love and water in the world, and hold her tenderly.

Ellanaine found she couldn’t move. Or speak.

Or think.

“Ell...” Kelsey said tentatively. “Sweetheart?”

“Hm.” She couldn’t find words of any sort, good, bad or indifferent, to even comment on the scene before them. Kivan pulled a bottle of water out of Imoen’s limp hands and walked across the hardpack to greet Ellanaine. He kissed her cheek briefly and bowed to Kelsey.

“Great to meet you in person, Master Coltrane. Thanks for the heads up. We’d not want our friend here to fail for lack of hands.”

“Kelsey. Thanks for coming.”

“How long has that been going on?” Ell whispered, her eyes fixed.

“About a minute and a half, now,” Kivan said.

“No, I mean... I didn’t realize... “

“Neither did they.” Kivan swigged at the water and then fanned his face with his hood. “You told me it was hot down here, Kelsey, but you failed to mention it was a bake oven.”

“Sorry. We’ve gotten used to it, I think, at least a little. What did you mean by neither did they?”

“After you folks left Xan and I in Baldur’s Gate, neither of us especially felt like going home. The city, foul as it can be, held no memories for me, and Xan didn’t see the point of going home when it was just as bad as anywhere else.”

“Same old Xan, I presume,” Ell said.

“Actually, no. Nor same old Kivan,” he replied. “The best things in the world for us were getting out of the ruts we had been in. Xan needed to spend time with people other than elves, and I, well, I’m not likely to find another love, but I am willing to live my life as she would have wanted me to. She would have beaten me bloody for failing to live on.” He sighed, and shrugged. “We rented a house, he set up shop, I got a job teaching woodcraft to Gate children with one of the schools, and one thing led to another. Of course it didn’t hurt that Branwen did us a favor by getting the real story out. You know you didn’t have to leave. It only took about a week for things to calm down.”

Ell smiled faintly. “It would still be roaring if I’d stayed. Are you telling me that you and Xan have lost your dour countenances?”

“Let’s just say we’ve both found some inner peace. Revenge is... not as satisfying as I thought it would be. And as he’s found that peace, he’s talked more and more about you - well, mostly about Imoen.”

“He fell in love?” Kelsey asked, amused.

“He’d never admit it, but I think so. Usually just reminisces. It’s been... strange. And then last night, she calls him. He was dead asleep and suddenly, he’s entirely awake and standing in the door to my room saying that Imoen needs us. Well, it took me ten minutes to get dressed and grab our gear and then --”

He shuddered. “We’ll walk home. Or I’ll charm us a horse.”

“Sorry, I had no idea this is what my mages had in mind,” Ell said. “I’d never have permitted it.”

“Too late,” Kivan said, and then a huge grin broke across his face. “Like you should be given a choice, anyway. Miss Demigod. You’re too noble for your own good, did you realize that?” He swept her into a bearhug. “By Mystra, it’s good to see you again. And did you realize you’ve lost weight? Your armor probably weighs more than you do. How in all that is holy did you think you were going to win fighting all comers with just yourselves?”

“I didn’t,” she confessed. “I was going to sneak away tonight and leave all of the trade goods and coin behind and hope that everyone would just go home. Or somewhere safe.” She broke out of Kivan’s arms and buried her head in Kelsey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“You were right. She’s a step away from a Temple case,” Kivan said. “Just like me when she found me. Anyway, do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

“Please,” Ell said, looking up. Kelsey stroked her absently, listening and watching Imoen and Xan, who had broken their kiss and stood breast to breast, talking urgently about ... something.

“So we arrived just outside of Watcher’s Keep, near the desert, about an hour after sunset. It’s getting dark, we’ve got our gear and water, and Xan sends out a Wizard Eye and conjures a flame ball and we start walking towards where the Eye tells us you are and Xan starts talking. He says ‘As soon as I see her, I’m going to tell her everything. I’ve wasted far too much of my time brooding and being difficult and she’s just what I need.’ Of course, this makes no sense to me - I’m just out of sleep, remember and not thinking about his mutterings and reminisces this past year - so I say 'Really? I hear she’s taken up with some sorcerer so you might have to stand in line.'”

“Would you believe that Xan tackled me and tried to strangle the news out of me? When we realized that I was talking about you, and he was talking about Imoen.... well, we had a good laugh, and got going. And that’s part of the reason we’re late. Didn’t quite expect her to be so enthusiastic, though,” Kivan said, grinning at Imoen.

“I can’t say I’m... any less surprised,” Ell finally said. “She’s lost not one but two lovers since we parted ways with you two, and we only learned of the second one days ago.”

“Oh, poor thing. Perhaps I should warn Xan she’s a'grieving.”

“No. She’s telling him. And the one we found... well, he wasn’t her current love. Just an old flame gone out too soon,” Ell said.

“Ah. I see. He’s found a spine of sorts, anyway in the last few hours. Let’s hope it lasts.”

Kivan drank deeply and Kelsey and Ell kept a respectful distance, waiting for Im and Xan to decide to rejoin the rest of the world. Long moments passed, and then Ell heard a sound she’d never heard before - laughter, from the lungs of Xan, who had never been known to laugh.

“When we get to a city with a temple to Lathlander, I’m making a donation,” Ell breathed. “A miracle has occured.”

“And you wrought it, Lady Ellanaine.” He stalked off towards the pair without explanation, and so Ell followed, wanting an answer.... even if she had to pry it out of him.

“What do you mean?”

“Without your... intervention, perhaps, I would have been bitter and vengeful for the rest of my days, until some night I failed to see the beast in the dark and died, unfulfilled. Xan would have continued to look at the world with dread and fear, positive that everything and everyone lay in wait at his door step. Now... it may be a short life, but it will be more pleasant, no?” He stepped away from her again, and dragged Xan and Im apart.

“Share, elf brother,” Kivan chided, and kissed Imoen’s cheek just as he had Ell’s. “You’re a welcome sight, young mage. I half expected you would lock yourself away in Candlekeep and fight constantly the book dust in your hair.”

“Dust in my hair is about right,” Im groaned. “I’d give my soul for a bath.” Then Imoen laughed at Ell’s horrified expression. “Okay, maybe not my soul.”

“I’d hope not,” Xan said. “Give me a while to rest in some shade and I’ll conjure us a pool.”

He crossed to Ell, dragging Imoen with him, since he’d not released her hand, and bowed with extravagent courtesy out of place in the blazing desert. “Elven sister, I owe you much. And first, I owe you my service.”

“I should tell you to go home but you’re too welcome,” Ell sighed. “Who else should I expect, Im?”

“Honestly, I don’t know." Imoen looked chagrinned. "I could only send messages to the mages, and well, we’ve lost some of them. Nalia said she’d head for Athkatla immediately and look for Keldorn, Aerie and Anomen and send a messenger for Valygar and Cernd. But she couldn’t guarantee anything, and can’t even be certain she will be able to make it here.”

“Branwen would have come, but she is committed to her Temple,” Kivan said. “She sends her prayers, her best wishes, and these.” He removed his pack very carefully and removed a small potion case that he placed in Ell’s hands.

Inside were ten rows of tiny glass vials, padded and strapped in for safety. “What are these?” she asked.

“Healing potions, she said. Far better than anything we ever had on the road, and much smaller. She said you might find them useful.”

“Her prayers can’t hurt, either,” Kelsey said. “That was the lass with the statue problem, was it not?”  Ell nodded, still a bit breathless over the generosity of the gift.

Ell’s biggest problem in recent weeks had not been a lack of coin to spend, but a lack of goods she had any need for. She found that most of the merchants were very happy to buy from her, since Kelsey insisted they only salvage the best, but only rarely could they supply her company’s needs. Healing potions were always high on that list of needs.

“Now I must survive whatever comes next,” she sighed. “I must not die beholden to my friend, or surely I would haunt her.”

“Now you sound like me,” Xan mocked. “Mystra’s bodice, is it contagious?”

[perricath]

Night, the Desert between Saradush and Athkethran. Xan and Kivan have joined us.

It is good to have friends who have not seen the horrors of war and have not been to Hell with me. Their lives and needs and visions are clean and clear, their minds straightforward and they are a comfort. To say I am not pleased - though terribly afraid - of what my sister and my love have done would be to report something not true.

It’s well after dark but the fire burns nicely and still we traipse out of a bath that Xan pulled literally out of the air. He speaks of the Lexus Nexus, the font of all things and all information; I’m just a ranger with no knowledge of magery other than what my sister and my love tell me. And both of them have confounded me more times than not.

I am amazed at the changes I have seen in my sister, and in my old companions. But I don’t believe these changes are my doing, no matter what credit Xan and Kivan want to throw about. Imoen, of course, is cheerful, so rarely is she not cheerful... but there is a peace and contentment about her that would seem out of place were it not so obvious from whence it came. I have felt this peace, though rarely. There have been far too few days when I have been allowed to be merely Ellanaine, archer and woman, scholar and elf. And beloved of Kelsey.

Xan seems a different person - his melancholy is missing. Minsc nearly didn’t recognize him - he’s also wearing pale blue to start with - and still seems a little reluctant to accept him as the Xan we left in Baldur’s Gate.

Of course, my suspicious insider says the same thing, but Jaheira and Imoen - though magical means - have assured me that Xan is Xan, and his blade should have been all of the identification I needed. After all, Moonblades bond.  And that is most definitely Xan’s Moonblade. I believe I would have to be blinded, deafened and have my hands removed to miss that sword.

Kivan, too, seems to have found some peace. I have been careful to not tell him that Tazok was resurrected; When we finished him, I ensured Tazok would never return. And his master won’t be coming back, either.


It took them three days more to clear the desert, and even so, their arrival at the oasis at Amkethran was only a change in degree, not in quality. Ellanaine would have given much of their accumulated wealth for a tree. Just one. They’d had an encounter with a Tethyrian war camp just outside of Amkethran that had, like nearly all of their encounters of late, ended badly for the Tethyrians. They blamed her for the carnage at Saradush, and that part of Ellanaine that still pondered her heritage could not find it in herself to blame them.

Amkethran was a city of adobe, sun-baked mud brick structures built into the sides of the sandstone hills. In the setting sun, it looked as if the place had been painted in fresh blood. Ellanaine shuddered. It  was not a good omen.

Still, there was an inn, and a temple, and a few merchants. And local problems that only muscle and weapons could solve. Not to mention monks, old acquaintances and relatives. Before they dropped into their beds - clean beds that astounded Ellanaine, considering the lack of water in the vicinity - they’d already made enemies of the local town guards by pulverizing a few of their number in service to the Mayor’s daughter.

Ellanaine took time to speak with the innkeeper, and learned that the Monks were a bit less holy than they appeared to be; town gossip had it that they spent a bit too much time prying into the lives of those in Amkethran and a bit too little time engaged in what the residents considered holy worship. Ellanaine had suppressed a sigh. Lathlander deliver me from avarious clerics.

In the morning, they left the inn, and ran almost immediately into issues with the monks. One was beating a cleric, though why, Ellanaine could not see. The cleric was old and frail, and wore the sigil of Waukeen. He cried as the blows fell that all he wanted was for the monks to take proper care of the town, and the monk replied with far more callousness than Ellanaine had thought possible that the head of their order didn’t care what happened to the town or the people. That was enough for Ell, along with what she’d heard the night before. Eight against one was hardly sporting, but the old cleric was not a warrior priest.

Killing the monk had brought the rather weak wrath of the town judiciary down on them, and Ellanaine had had to endure a lecture from the town wizard on proper behavior in Amkethran, but the wizard did nothing. He didn’t even fine them. Jaheira healed the cleric, and afterwards, it seemed that the town had appreciated what they’d done.

Which brought more problems than it solved, in the long run. Ellanaine often wished, and more so in recent weeks, that their reputation for good deeds did not precede them so prominently. Everyone with even the smallest problem came to them as soon as they heard that Lady Ellanaine the Peacekeeper was in town with her band of brawlers. Small children wished protection from bullies, grey-beards wanted help reclaiming fortunes, and parents wanted them to arrange - or disarrange - marriages. And then, there was Marlowe.

Marlowe had a daughter, comatose now for several days. He claimed that a lich had lusted after her soul, and had stolen it. Of course, Marlowe wanted his child’s soul back, but the last thing Ellanaine really wanted to do was go after a lich. But...

“You really can’t let one continue to run around,” Xan said. “They’re not so much evil in general as absolutely unable to control their needs. There are a few that aren’t too bad, but the majority just get... greedy.”

“And if we left it alone, the child will die,” Mazzy spoke up. “I know it sounds hypocritical to worry about one death when we’ve granted so many, but this one is truly innocent. She would weigh heavily upon my mind.”

Ellanaine nodded. “We do the good deeds to make up for our own acts of necessities, I agree. How are your skills regarding undead, Master Xan?”

“Fair to middlin’”, he admitted. “Throw enough spells at anything, though, and they tend to die.”

“And I have no love of the undead,” Kivan added. “I may have little in the way of magery, but I fire fast enough.”

They rested through the night and at first light, wheedled their way into the Cave of the Dead. To find a relatively reasonable lich. Arrogant, of course - they all were, and considering how hard they were to destroy, rightfully so - but willing to negotiate with them.

Ell groaned with frustration when she heard the lich’s version of the tale. It admitted it had the soul of Marlowe’s daughter and did not dignify the sordid tale with lies. The extenuating circumstances however, made it perfectly clear that Marlowe had not been honest with Ell. It was Marlowe’s soul the lich wanted, in payment for a debt of twenty years’ fortune. Marlowe had reneged on the deal, and the lich was perfectly happy with the daughter’s soul.

Ell was not so sanguine. A father that used his child so ill... it struck too close to home for her comfort, and only Kelsey and Imoen prevented her from marching straight out and forcibly shoving Marlowe’s head into his own ass. Instead, once confronted with the lich’s version, Marlowe grew ashamed of himself and agreed - with only a small amount of coercion on Ell’s part - to accompany them back to the lich to service his debt.

Regardless, though, Xan was right. Leaving a lich in place was like leaving a loaded crossbow in the back of a waggon on a bad road. It was a recipe for a bad outcome, and Ell could see no reason why anyone else should be so tempted. Besides, lichen were unnaturally dead and usually dangerous. The company agreed that allowing it to continue to tempt others in Athkethran was a foolish move.

The exchange went quickly and easily; Marlowe probably never even felt his life end. Once Ell had the girl’s soul, bound to a beautiful sapphire, and tempting in and of itself, safely stowed in her pocket, Kelsey dropped the time stop bomb on the lich and banged away at his protections. Xan took over next, then Imoen, and by the time all three had managed to force away the lich’s protections, the rest of them could close and bludgeon the creature into dust. Though not without injuries. Never without injuries.

The band of eight was bloody and limping, but relatively whole when they left the Cave of the Dead and took that gem back to Akayla, Marlowe’s daughter.

For one brief instant, Ell held it in her hand and wondered if it would not be better to keep it in her pocket plane, a reserve against whatever would happen next. Instead, she laid the gem on the girl’s chest, and watched it fade into the near-adult child. And to salve her own guilt at being so tempted, she gave the girl money and goods, and told her to leave Athkethran and make her way in the larger world.

[perricath]

Night, Athkethran, second day.

I am ashamed of the way that I always consider the possibilities, even if I never act upon them. Surely those who are truly good and untainted by the Lord of Murder never consider betraying their fellows or preying on the innocent for personal gain. It is more proof to me that there is great evil within me, and all that keeps it in check is the thin veneer of civilization that Gorion and the Priests of Alundo pounded into me.

And that veneer cracks. When that which I do love is threatened, I know that I am unkind. I take great pleasure in knowing what Jon Irenicus faced in the underworld after I slew him. Had he never threatened me, never harmed Imoen, I would not take such guilty pleasure, or perhaps if my training had been better, or my parentage less... tainted. I must one day speak with Xan and ask if it is common among elves to be so vicious with enemies.

I cannot forgive myself for the consideration. No matter how I act, there’s always that thought, and that is to me quite evil. It shows I have the potential to be truly my father’s daughter, and I despise that in myself. Would that I could pluck out this inheritance,  but I am made.

I do not understand how I can be so loved by my friends.


Near sunset on their third day in Athkethran, Xan pulled everyone into the room that he and Imoen shared. “Imoen and I put our downtime to better use than I’m sure any of you expected - “

“And do I get to preside at the wedding?” Jaheira said with some of her old humor. Everyone, even Minsc, laughed.

“Better use even than that,” Xan said, but his ear-tips reddened. “We used that fetching spell she worked up to ... erm.... borrow the Tome of Alundo and we think we know a bit more about the prophecy than we used to.”

“Did you put it back?” Ell demanded. “That book is very precious to the Order.”

“Yes, but I did copy it.” Imoen looked rebellious. “This is my fate too, and we need to know what was foretold and what is in our own control.”

“That’s fine,” Ell said, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was that fate had already told for her, and for her sister.

“May I?” Xan said with a bit of his old impatience.

“Please.”

“Bhaal walked the earth for a thousand days, and with the vision that you saw after the death of Sarevok, we’re pretty sure that that means that he spawned one child of Murder for each of those thousand days. The vision showed about that many statues, correct?”

“Yes, about that,” Ell nodded.

“So, that means that instead of a never ending parade of siblings, you have a finite number that you need to either convert or destroy.”

“If my vision was true. Nothing is certain when it comes to the Bhaal-spawn and things are rarely as they seem.”

“True,” Xan admitted. “But this time I think you’re all right and saw truly. Now, Mellissan drew some nine hundred of the Bhaal-spawn to her. Most of those were talentless, or minimally talented, and all of them are dead. And you’ve killed or neutralized a lot of the remainder. There’s Saravok, Imoen, Yaga-Shura...”

“Illasera, Viekang, Gromnir, the rabbit, the chipmunk, and the squirrel - “

Xan blinked. “I don’t even want to know how Bhaal managed those...”

Ell laughed, breaking the tension of naming those of her siblings that she’d destroyed. “Right. Exactly. So, what are you saying?”

“We think there can’t be many left, and when there’s only one...”

“No.” Ell shot a look at Imoen who shrugged.

“Two, then. I’ll take my own life before I let it happen to me.”

“Two then,” Xan said. “No one will dare seek to use you, and you’re strong enough to protect Imoen from anything she can’t face alone.”

“We all are,” Mazzy said. “No one shall ever seek to use you again if you wish it, my lady.”

“What I’m saying is you’re almost done.”

“What you’re saying is that I have to destroy the rest of my family. Save Imoen.”

“Yes,” Imoen agreed. “But for the sake of the world, it has to be done.”


In the morning, a messenger came from Balthazar, and Ell and her party were escorted, though herded might have been a better term, to his presence. She had expected age and wisdom, but the man before her was no older than she and Imoen, and had a hard coldness that repelled her.

“I shall overlook the less than gracious way you have treated my hospitality and make no reference to the death of my guards and Monks.”

“I thank you and hope that you will see that the actions that brought them to harm are not repeated,” Ell said. He changed the subject.

“Normally, I would have little congress with one of your breeding, but as is necessary when fighting forest fires and other disasters, I must use fire to fight fire. There are more Bhaal-spawn that seek to reclaim the Lord of Murder’s powers, and you seem capable of dispensing with them. Thus, I am asked by the Lady Melissan to assist you in that task.”

He gave Ell a set of maps, and scribed information about those of whom he had knowledge. “Do see that you dispatch them to whatever fate awaits them with alacrity,” he said in parting. “And then return here.”

The last thing that Ell wanted to do was spend more time in the presence of this cold-blooded monk, but now was not the time. As Xan and Kievan had pointed out, ending the line of Bhaal would mean an end to the killing she herself had to do.

And now she had the names and homes of the remaining kin.


Sendai Slasrai. Drow. I wonder how Bhaal did it, considering how ill the Drow take to rape. Perhaps her mother was like mine and wished the honor of bearing and sacrificing a child to the Lord of Murder. She will not be easy, and is sure to be well protected. I wish now that I did have an invading army. Two additional pairs of hands are sure to be of use, but I’d prefer to have two hundred at my back. But then again, more hands means more chances for death to arrive.

~end