thinkinc

Ah, thanks for telling me. I looked and looked for her name and couldn't find it, and short of playing the game over, I just made it up.

edit edit edit edit....

I'm honestly not sure about that, yet. I couldn't find anything in the canon about that, so I just kind of... uh... made it up. I couldn't think of a better word for it. I'm here to take suggestions, if you've got 'em.

Thanks again for all your continuing encouragement! I'm so glad you all like my Sola characterization.

Let me know what you think of my more in-depth backstory for Anomen. I am nixing his sister from the story, because I didn't think it was necessary. There will be other problems he will have with the Order.

Hopefully, this will help to better explain why Anomen acts like such a pompous ass so often.

Anomen?s leg bobbed up and down nervously as he sat on the hard stone pew outside of the temple?s sanatorium, waiting for word on Cas?ira?s condition.  His arms and shoulders still protested agonizingly against the strain of carrying Cas?ira?s limp body wrapped in his cloak as he rode on his horse like a madman through the streets.  He could have taken her to Waukeen?s temple as it was practically next door to the Mithrest, but he did not trust a dead god to care for her.  And so he?d ridden all the way to the Temple District to seek out the capable ministrations of the Helmites.

The smells were warm and familiar here.  The scent of burning candles and the pungent ritual incense enveloped him like a blanket.  This comforting reassurance of his old stomping ground was the only thing that kept him from disregarding the templemaster?s demand that he remain outside while they treated her.  Had it been anyone but a Helmite, he would have brushed them aside to stand by her.  But now he felt the ever-watchful eye of Helm on him, and it gave him strength and succor.  It always had.

He?d been baptized here, and as a boy he?d spent nearly every spare moment he could steal away from his father to haunt these hallowed vestibules.  It was, in fact, in this very pew during a service where he?d made up his mind to become a holy paladin for the Order.  He stared at the pulpit, remembering.

He?d been perhaps seven or eight.  His mother was sitting beside him, as she always did, holding his hand as they listened to the sermon.  The priest announced that they would have a special visitor that day ? a paladin from the ranks of the Order, fresh from the battlefield ? who would speak to them about the importance of virtue and honor.  He could still recall how his heart had fluttered in awe as the man stepped forward to speak.

The paladin had seemed as tall as a giant to a young boy?s eyes, his polished armor gleaming with a celestial aura.  The priest was dwarfed by his presence, but more than that, the paladin possessed a natural air of complete authority, as if Helm Himself stood before the congregation.  His face was worn with the creases of time and scars of battle, but his eyes burned with a passion for virtue that made other men aspire to be greater.

It surely inspired Anomen that day.  In a deep, commanding voice, the paladin spoke of the significance of their current campaign against the dark forces of Cyric, and how everyone plays an important role by fighting the subtle daily temptations of evil in their homes and families.  This struck a chord with Anomen, for even at his young age, he was already painfully aware of his father?s proclivity for drinking and the wickedness that permeated through the family because of it.

His mother was a beautiful, compassionate, well-bred noblewoman with a soft touch and a softer heart, and for as long as he could remember, he?d loved her more than life itself.  But, for equally long, he?d hated his father. Moreover, he hated himself for cowering in his bedchamber as she endured his father?s drunken rages, and occasionally, his beatings.  

On the mornings after Lord Cor's fits - those still mornings where pain and regret hung heavily in the air - Anomen would listen furtively on the other side of their bedroom door as his father groveled his pathetic apologies to her.  He listened, hoping that this time, she would refuse him; that she would take Anomen away from the Delryn house and they could escape together forever.  But every time she forgave, and his disappointment slowly blackened his young impressionable heart.

Eventually, he decided that his mother was too gentle a soul to defend herself, and so he resolved to protect her.  It was a gallant intention, but one that would ultimately shatter his already tenuous grip on his childhood.  He?d been but a boy, yet his hatred and bitterness was enough to poison his judgment, and he never  forgave himself for what would happen because of it.  His eyes glazed over as he allowed himself to recollect that fateful night.

Anomen and his mother had spent the evening making lemon scones, his favorite treat.  She even let him carve his initials on the tops of them with a paring knife before she baked them.  He?d felt so grown-up for being allowed to handle a knife, and his heart swelled with pride when she crooned over his work.  He?d been so inspired by it, that he set out to carve little hearts in the scones for his mother, knowing it would please her.

But before he could finish his task, his father came slamming through the front door, grousing loudly about his accountant?s incompetence, the weather, his footman and everything else in one jumbled string of curses and rantings.  His mother?s body instantly stiffened, and the climate of the room sharply fell into tense apprehension.  He?d felt the pit of his stomach clench in the familiar knot that was always there in his father?s presence.  Whatever appetite he?d had for his treat was immediately gone.

With frantic anxiety, he watched his father stomp through the kitchen, muttering angrily about how no one ever could be trusted to pull their weight, and how he was doomed to carry the burden for ungrateful fools.  His mother winced, giving Anomen a look that meant for him to keep quiet.  Not that he ever needed to be told.

With a huff, his father slammed open the wine cabinet, jerked out a random bottle and then reached up to fumble for a goblet from the shelf.  But, it slipped from his clumsy grip and shattered on the counter, sending shards of crystal in every direction.  Anomen and his mother both jumped, wondering what his father would do in reaction to his own blunder.  It only took a moment for the rage to descend.

?Damn it, Morella!? he railed, sweeping his hand across the counter.  His rash gesture sent the remains of the broken glass clattering to the floor.  ?I told you not to put the goblets where I can?t reach them!?

She flinched and immediately moved to clean up his mess.  Anomen froze where he was, too scared to even breathe. His hands were sweating and his heart pounded in his ears.  He wanted to duck under the table and scurry away, but willed himself instead to stay, if only so his mother wouldn?t have to endure the tirade alone.

?I?m sorry, darling,? she almost whispered.  ?I?ll get you a drink.  Why don?t you sit down and relax??

?Look at this!? he held up his hand in front of her face.  She tried to avoid it, focusing instead on picking up the pieces of crystal.  But he abruptly grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head upward with a sharp yank.  She yelped and then stared at his hand, which was bleeding liberally.  He?d cut it on the smashed crystal in his careless fury.  ?Look at what you made me do!?

?I?m sorry,? she whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes.  Her face was growing red and contorted under the strain of his painful grip.  His father looked at her with utter disgust and scorn.

?I know you?re sorry,? his voice rose up to a high falsetto, mocking her.  ?You?re always sorry, but you never learn, dammit!  I?d say you?re as dumb as a dog, but at least a dog learns if you beat it enough!?

He raised his bloody hand, threatening to strike her, but hesitated when she brought her arms up to shield her face and started pleading wildly with him.

?P-please, Cor?? she mewled pathetically, her chest wracking with sobs.  ?D-don?t? Not in front of Anomen??

Anomen?s heart stopped, for until now his father hadn?t seemed to notice him.  But as his father turned and sliced him through with a look of absolute contempt, he felt certain that his chest would implode from fear.  Finding a new target for his wrath, Cor gave his mother a cruel shove, pushing her to the floor and forcing her to land on her hands on the broken shards.  She ignored the obvious pain and scrambled to her feet, desperate to stop his father from coming after him.

But Anomen was ready.  He?d been gripping the paring knife in his boyish fist beneath the table.  Initially, he?d hid it because he was afraid that his father would get upset with his mother for allowing him to use a ?woman?s tool? for making ?sissy-girl things?.  But now that his father came toward him with a murderous glare in his eye, Anomen instinctively knew that a blade had no gender ? it would gut a man, all the same.

When Cor lunged for him, Anomen ducked, using his chair as a barricade.  In his drunkenness, Cor lost his balance and went toppling haphazardly over the chair to sprawl awkwardly on the floor, emitting a string of vile curses as he landed with a thud.  As he attempted to struggle to his feet, he roared a vow to beat Anomen until he was no longer recognizable as his own rotten bastard child.

As if he?d trained all his life for this moment ? and perhaps he had ? Anomen seized the opportunity, lifting the chair and slamming it into Cor?s ribs with all his strength.  His father shrieked in shock and pain, and tried to roll to his side, but Anomen pounced on him like a feral kobold.

So long as he lived, Anomen would never, ever forget the look in his father?s eyes as he held the blade of the knife to his throat, pressing it so deeply that it brought blood welling up around the edges.  For the first time, he realized that terrible Lord Cor Delryn was capable of feeling fear, and indeed? fear of him!  He didn?t remember grinning, though his mother told him later that he?d smiled like a hungry wolf as he threatened his father.

?If you ever,? Anomen growled inasmuch as his boy?s throat would let him.  ?Hurt mother again, I swear by the eyes of Helm that I will cut out your heart while you sleep and feed it to the hounds.?

His father blanched and stared at him, too astonished and terrified to reply.  For some perverse reason, his weakness enraged Anomen ? perhaps it was the humiliating realization that he?d been living beneath the tyranny of a coward all this time ? and so he dug the knife deeper, tempted to finish the job and bleed the bastard there on the kitchen floor.  He might have, if his mother hadn?t intervened.

?Don?t do it, son,? she reached for him, her voice quavering pitifully.  ?He?s your father!?

?It?s alright, mother,? Anomen?s eyes never left Cor?s.  ?No one will blame you.  I will turn myself in to the guards.  Then you?ll be free of him.?

?Anomen, stop!? she came running up behind him and snatched him bodily off of his father, who was now very pale and shaking.  He allowed his mother to pull him away, but almost immediately regretted it.  As she left him standing there ? a child holding a knife stained with his own father?s blood ? and rushed to Cor?s side crooning apologies for their wayward son, he felt a truly black bitterness overtake a part of his soul.  He was abandoned, empty, futile and betrayed by the first woman he?d ever loved.

However, after that night, Cor never did lay another hand on his mother.  At least not in his presence.  But he spent the next several years exacting his revenge by systematically undermining everything else that Anomen held dear.  

When he wanted to learn swordplay, his father forbade him to keep a blade in the house.  When he wanted to learn to ride, he told him that he?d have to come up with his own money to buy a horse and lessons.  He?d only allowed Anomen to visit the Order because it kept him out of the house.  Anomen suspected that he?d used that opportunity to punish his mother for what he?d done, because it wasn?t long afterward that she died.

The doctors assured him that it was some kind of problem that she?d had since she was a girl, but privately, he would always believe that she died of a broken heart, and Anomen felt responsible.  He knew that night that he?d ceased to be her little boy and become something else, for she never could bring herself to look him in the eye after that.  He?d failed her, and it broke her heart.  But it was Cor who had driven him to it.

And it was Cor who drove him to join the Order, though it seemed that he tried to sabotage Anomen?s advancement at every turn.  If it hadn?t been for the kindness of Sir Ryan Trawl ? the shining paladin he?d seen that auspicious day in the Temple ? Anomen might have never been able to join the Order at all.  His father?s stern refusal to sponsor him, under the ruse that Anomen?s incompetence would inevitably tarnish the family name, nearly drove Anomen to contemplate murdering him again.  As head of the Delryn Estate, he?d be able to sponsor himself? but, of course, the Order wouldn?t have him then.

He was about to resign to his quandary when Ryan offered to sponsor Anomen himself.  Anomen had always assumed that it was because Ryan saw his innate potential to become a great paladin.  But, in truth, Ryan made the decision partly out of pity for the troubled boy, but mostly because he was afraid that if Anomen did not find guidance for his rage, there was no telling how dangerous he could become as he grew into manhood.  He was so passionate about joining the Order; perhaps Helm?s watchful guardianship was exactly what he needed to strengthen his virtues.

Of course, Ryan knew nothing about Anomen?s childhood attempt to slay his father, and if he had, he would have certainly never offered to sponsor him.  In fact, no one knew about that incident, save for Anomen and his father, and he was fairly sure that Cor would never say anything about it, if only to save himself the humiliation of having to admit to being bested by a boy and his own vices.

Somewhere in his heart, Anomen knew that keeping this matter from the Order?s judgment was a lie, but he?d always hoped it was a lie he could leave behind him.  The day he was accepted into the Order, he vowed to prove that Cor?s taint had not hindered his own morality.  After all, he told himself constantly, he?d been just a boy.  Surely Helm would forgive him for his youthful mistakes and not hold him to blame for his father?s failings.  But it was a daily struggle, and though he tried hard to appear the model of virtue, deep down his insecurity tore at his heart.

It nagged at him now as he fidgeted restlessly in the temple while he waited impatiently for someone to return with a report on Cas?ira?s health.  She hadn?t looked injured from what Anomen could tell, but clearly whatever had razed Kelsey possessed enough evil to debilitate her, for she?d remained unconscious the entire way to the Temple.  She?d only roused once when he laid her down so the priests could examine her, and even then, just long enough to call out for her mother.  Then she?d slipped back into the darkness and didn?t wake even when they moved her to the sanatorium.

It had ripped at Anomen?s guts to see her like that.  She looked so vulnerable and frail, her half-elven form laid weak and drained on the marble healer?s table, and there was nothing he could do for her.  During the ride, he?d tried to use a healing potion on her, but it did not seem to help.  It had given him the same frenetic panicky feeling he?d had when his mother began to fall victim to her mysterious ailment, which stole away her life little by little until it was gone.  He was determined not to lose Cas?ira like that.

When he joined her that day in the Copper Coronet, it had at first been purely for personal reasons.  Those Calimshite villains were hunting her, and he needed evil to vanquish in order to prove himself worthy of Helm?s favor, not to mention coin to support the expenses of training since his father had cut him off financially.  It had seemed like an obviously valiant quest, at the time.  Save the girl from the bad men.  In retrospect, had he any idea of what had lie ahead of them, he might have turned her down in the beginning, for his honor and morality had since been put mightily to the test and he wasn?t entirely certain he?d made the right decisions.

However it hadn?t taken long for him to become attached to her in a way that made those doubts seem less pressing now.  It was more important to him that he remained true to his oath to defend her.  She was strong and capable, but there was a part of her that seemed wounded and defenseless and it reminded him poignantly of his mother.  Instinctively, he wanted to protect her, though as he?d spent more time with her, he often thought her greatest adversary was herself, and he did not know how to guard her from such a paradox.

But now she was hurt, and he was sure that if he?d been there ? if she hadn?t been alone with that incompetent weak-willed Kelsey ? this would not have happened.  Anomen suspected that Kelsey?s unmanageable outbursts of magic had finally gotten the best of him.  Obviously, the idiot had summoned up some creature or power that he could not control and it killed him, which was, in Anomen?s opinion, a fool?s reward for toying with sorcery so irresponsibly.  But he would have ended Kelsey?s pathetic life himself if he?d thought that his reckless magic would have ever hurt Cas?ira this way.  He only wished that he could have been there to do it.

A baby squalled, breaking Anomen?s dark, worried thoughts.  He turned around and noticed that a few people had begun to arrive for the afternoon service.  Soon, a priest would come out and lead them in prayer and offer to hear their declarations of transgression so that Helm could be satisfied that they acknowledged His all-seeing eye.  He?d always had difficulty with that part of his faith, for he did not truly believe that another mortal could understand his heart the way Helm could.

?Anomen?? an elderly man in Helmite priest robes called quietly to him from the end of his pew.  It was Reverend Foregart, one of the Temple?s most respected physicians and a gifted sage, as well.  If he had been called, it meant something serious.  Anomen?s heart sank.

?Is Cas?ira well?? he immediately began to rise from his seat, but Foregart motioned for him to remain still.

?Yes,? he shuffled down the aisle to sit beside Anomen.  ?She will be just fine, my son.  She is sleeping now.?

?May I see her??

?No,? the priest patted Anomen with a gnarled, wrinkled hand.  ?She needs to rest to recover her strength.?

?I am so relieved,? Anomen sighed, his whole body slumping perceptibly.  ?Forgive me, but when I saw you, I thought the worst.?

?Well,? the old man?s eyes shifted anxiously.  ?There is a matter of some concern that I must speak with you about.?

?Yes?? his heart skipped.

?Where did you meet this girl??

?On the road back from my last campaign with the Order,? he answered cautiously, wondering where this would lead.  ?She was injured? I found her on the Tradeway riding from Calimport.  I stopped to assist? as is my duty as a paladin.?  

Anomen paused, looking to Foregart for reassurance.  The old man nodded impassively, and gestured for him to continue.

?Once she was well, she rode on,? Anomen cleared his throat, knowing that he was leaving out a number of details. ?We met up again here in the city.  Why??

?I see,? Foregart replied quietly, his thick white eyebrows gathering with concern at Anomen?s caginess.  ?The others have told me about today?s tragic incident.  But I want you to tell me what happened, in your own words.?

?As I told the other priests,? Anomen began apprehensively. ?I was not in the room when all of this occurred.  I believe Kelsey and Cas?ira had an argument.  Kelsey had been very angry? ranting and raving everyone.  She asked him to come upstairs, presumably so she could talk some sense into him.  They were alone for perhaps thirty minutes before I heard the noises and the scream??

?What kind of noises?? the old man asked.

?Crashes, as if there was a struggle,? he replied.  ?Then there was a scream? more of a howl, actually.  It was then that we ran upstairs.  The door was locked and we had to break it down.  We found Kelsey butchered and Cas?ira was lying unconscious on the floor.?

?What do you believe occurred?? Foregart stroked his long white beard as he studied Anomen.

?I think that Kelsey summoned something that killed him,? he answered flatly.

?Why would it have spared the girl, do you think??

?I am not sure,? Anomen paused for a moment, considering his answer.  ?She does wear a number of enchanted ornaments.  It occurred to me that perhaps one of them could have just by chance been imbued with the power to afford her some protection from whatever Kelsey summoned.  Or perhaps it simply had no interest in her.?

?That is possible,? he nodded.  ?Although we may never truly know.?

Anomen was suddenly uneasy with Foregart?s skeptical, reserved manner.  He frowned at the old man, wondering he knew that Anomen didn?t, but dared not disrespect the elder by pressing the matter.

?I have been told that this young man ? Kelsey, is it? ? did not have good control over his magic,? the priest continued.  ?This is your judgment??

?Oh yes, quite so,? Anomen nodded briskly.  ?Twice just since I?d met him, he nearly set himself on fire through sheer carelessness.  He had little self-discipline.?

?You don?t seem to think very much of him,? Foregart noted with just enough implication to set Anomen on edge.

?Well,? he began defensively.  ?His death was regretful, of course.  But I have difficulty bringing myself to respect someone as undisciplined as he was.  His magic was powerful, but he did not seem to value careful study, nor self-control.  Certainly you can see how this made him dangerous.?

?Why do you think Cas?ira would keep him in her company, knowing of this danger??

Anomen looked away, brooding.  He swallowed hard and sighed before he answered.  ?They were lovers,? he replied quietly.

?I see,? Foregart tilted his head to look carefully at Anomen as he replied, ?Love can indeed pollute one?s judgment.?

Anomen opened his mouth to agree, but the piercing look in Foregart?s stare caused the words to catch in his throat before he could speak.  Anomen thought that he saw an accusation behind the sage?s sharp gray eyes, but he couldn?t be certain.

?When will she be well enough to leave?? he asked instead.

?Yes,? Foregart began carefully.  ?That is that matter I wished to speak to you about.  It is the judgment of the priests that she should remain with us for the time being.  We strongly urge you to return to the Order, and leave her in our care.?

?What do you mean?? he stammered.  ?For how long??

?Anomen,? he gestured toward the holy symbol of Helm on Anomen?s breastplate.  ?At times like these, you must trust not your heart, but the wisdom of Helm.  Continue your training as a squire.  Follow that most admirable path of virtue.  This matter need no longer burden you.  You have done your duty to her, and it will certainly be noted during your Judgment.?

?Why do you say this to me?? Anomen?s voice raised a pitch.  He felt his heart constrict at the idea of leaving Cas?ira behind.  Surely, this couldn?t be Helm?s will to abandon her in her time of need.  ?What is wrong with her??

?We don?t know that, yet,? he answered evenly, unruffled by Anomen?s increasing tension.  ?She has not awoken long enough to answer our questions satisfactorily.  What little she has said so far has been unintelligible.  The only coherent answer we have gotten thus far is that she claims she has no memory of what transpired.?

?Maybe she doesn?t,? Anomen snapped curtly.  ?There is no telling what manner of black magic Kelsey inflicted upon her in his rage.?

?Perhaps.  Regardless, we must keep her in our protection until she can remember,? he replied.

?Your protection?? Anomen exclaimed.  ?Is she unsafe??

?The Athkatla Council will want to know exactly what happened, Anomen,? he patiently explained.  ?When the time comes, the investigators of this crime will not be so tolerant with her deficiency of memory.  It is important that she speaks to us first, so that we may aid her.?

?This is preposterous!? he nearly shouted.  When he noticed that people began to glance curiously at the unlikely sight of a Helmite paladin barking at a priest, he lowered his voice.  ?Father Foregart, I am willing to testify in her defense.  I traveled many miles and fought countless battles alongside Cas?ira, and I know she is not capable of murdering Kelsey.  Even if she was, she certainly couldn?t have butchered him in such a vile way in so a short period of time.  Surely my credibility with the Order will help her.?

?You misunderstand, Anomen,? Foregart shook his head gravely.  ?I feared you would insist upon something like this.?

?What do you mean??

?Still your arrogance bedevils you?It is not your credibility to tender on her behalf,? he answered.  ?You are not permitted to use your position with the Order in her defense.?

?What!? he barked incredulously.  ?Why not?  Is it not the mission of the Order to protect those in need??

?Calm down,? Foregart?s shushed him.  ?Not in this specific case.  The Order has already decided this.  You must accept our decision.  You are allowing your feelings for this girl to corrupt your wisdom, and of course, we understand that? you being still a young man.  But the truth is that you do not truly know what happened, and in a matter so violent and evil as this, we must take every precaution.?

?Cas?ira did not kill Kelsey,? Anomen retorted stubbornly.  ?I find it outrageous that the Order would even consider her responsible for this, regardless of my feelings for her ? which, by the way, you have grossly overestimated ? when it is so obvious that such carnage is beyond a woman of her build and capability.  She loved Kelsey? more than I thought was reasonable, at times?and I know that her heart is pure.  I cannot stand by idly while the Order allows her to be persecuted!?

?No one is persecuting her, my son,? Foregart began to rise slowly from the pew and regarded Anomen with a weary expression.  ?No one has accused her of anything.  But the fact remains that she must be accountable for whatever did happen, if only so that we may lay this matter to rest.?

Anomen started to argue, but Foregart held up his hand to quiet him, ?You should return to the Order and get some rest yourself.  I realize that you are tired and you?ve spent the past several hours waiting anxiously.  You are a good man, and I know you want what is best for her.  This will make more sense to you once you?ve had a chance to think it through.?

Anomen stood up abruptly.  ?Father Foregart??

?Yes?? he sighed.

?How long will it be before I may see her??  he stepped toward the old man, his face a mask of torment and pleading.

?Return to the Order,? he replied firmly.  ?I will send for you when she is ready.  We will take care of her, Anomen.  Know in your heart that with us, she will be safe.  Just as you were when you came to us in your time of trouble.?

That brought Anomen up short.  He flinched with guilty memories.  The Order had taken him in when no one else would, and quite likely saved him from a life of bitterness and depravity.  He had much to be grateful for, and suddenly the impudence of his interrogation of the kindly priest seemed reprehensible in light of that.

?Forgive me, Father,? Anomen fell to one knee and took the edge of Foregart?s robe.  ?You are wise and righteous and I had no right to question the Order?s judgment.  You have been so kind to me these years, and I have repaid you with insolence.?

?Now, now,? he patted Anomen on the head like a child.  ?Don?t fret over that.  We all have our times of weakness.  That is why we must lean on the strength of the whole when it is too much for one man to bear.  You are strong and good, Anomen.  You will make a fine knight.  Go back to the Order, get some rest and pray for your friend.  Sir Ryan will be pleased to see you, I imagine.?

?Yes,? he nodded as he stood.  ?You are right, Father.  As always.?

But in his heart, Anomen knew that he would try to find any way he could to see Cas?ira, to speak with her about what had happened, even if it meant defying the Order.  He was sure that in this case, they were wrong about her, and he was determined to demonstrate that she was innocent of any blame for that idiot?s death, if only to prove that his honor hadn?t been misplaced with her.  He wasn?t sure that he could bear it otherwise.  And besides, he told himself, he?d made her a vow to protect her from harm, and he could not allow himself to fail for want of action.  Not this time.

She seemed hazy and somehow different, but Sola knew it was Phaere.  There was something in her proximity that made every cell in his body pivot on the axis of her essence, even in his dream.  She didn?t have to look at him or touch him.  That is what made it so powerful when she did.

He felt bound in his own skin, his muscles tightening like a cat before the pounce, or its prey before the flight.  There was something both predatory and apprehensive in their chemistry.  It produced tacit but violent explosions between them.  How he longed to dominate her, and yet, she was as unknowable and remote as the moon.  Her will pulled at his heart like a tide.  In so many ways, he had no choice but to submit to it.

He felt her moving behind him, slinking up like a serpentine ghost.  Her voice was distant.

?What are you doing?? she peered over his shoulder and he felt her breath stir against his cheek.  Solaufein did not follow his heart to glance at her; instead he remained focused on his task.

?Cleaning my sword,? he replied.  He pulled the rothe-skin chamois slowly and deliberately down the blade, smoothing oil into the finely crafted dark metal.  It seemed as though he?d been trying to clean the blood off of it for hours, but still the crimson stain remained as though it were forged into the blade itself.

?Come with me,? she stroked the back of his neck with her cool fingers.  He shivered.  She laughed.  ?I want you to see something.?

He set down his sword carefully on the table, meticulously replacing the stopper on his oil bottle and laying the chamois aside.  He heard her sharp footfalls on the floor as she walked across the room behind him.  When she paused, he turned to look at the floor beneath her feet in respectful submission.  In his peripheral vision, he saw that she had her left hand resting on her hip, the other dangling languidly along the curve of her body.  It was a pose she assumed when she wanted him.  Exquisitly female.  Incredibly powerful.

He started toward her, but as he did the room that had been his quarters seemed now odd and unfamiliar.  The shadows shifted with a subtle life of their own.  The fairy light that illuminated the walls seemed to ripple and writhe.  The details of his surrounds focused on her commanding form, though now as he tried to look at her, she was indistinct.  When he?d come within arm?s length of her, he stopped, waiting.

?Look at what I have,? she casually reached into her bodice and produced a small, unfinished copper box.  It was plain, but for an inscription on the top that read What I Have.  She held it cradled in her palms as if it were a small, frightened animal.

?What is it?? he dared to ask after staring at it for a long moment.

?It is what I have,? she answered.  He could not tell if she was mocking him.  ?Look inside.?

She lifted the hinged lid of the box and gestured to him with a conspiratorial expression playing across her face.  He hesitated, unsure if this was some manner of freshly thought up torment for him.  Phaere was fond of cruel pranks.  But before he could make up his mind, she thrust the box out to him and he immediately felt compelled to look inside.

?Do you see?? she asked, her voice fading behind the growing noise of rushing liquid.  The box was filled with utter void ? a nothingness that sucked at him, a blackness without end, a cavern without light.  The room seemed to warp around the locus of the box and its abyss.  He felt himself falling into it.  Phaere?s hollow laughter followed him into the dark.

The liquid was all around him, filling his lungs and crushing him under the pressure.  Yet he did not float, instead he fell as if he?d leapt from a precipice.  He tumbled down, without direction for what seemed like a lifetime, his heart slamming in his chest like a wild thing.

Gradually, the liquid seemed to thin and his descent accelerated.  He was falling toward a dim light that grew more intense as he fell closer to it.  It was red and angry, pulsating with the ferocious rhythm of his heart.  The sounds of chanting voices rose from the light, though he could not understand what they said.  He clawed desperately at the space around him, frantic to stop his plunge, but his hands found no purchase in the slippery fluid.

As the crimson glare began to overtake him, he opened his mouth to scream.

Haer?dalis was shaking him.  Solaufein sat up abruptly, gasping sharply.  He was soaked with sweat, and for a moment, thought that he had carried his dream into a waking reality.  The tiefling looked like some otherworldly devil shrouded in the darkness of the night, the moonlight carving out the planes of his face in stark silver.  Solaufein pushed himself backward, tearing at the grass beneath him.

?Are you alright?? Haer?dalis sat back on his heels, unsure of what assailed his companion.  Solaufein heaved for air, feeling his chest with his hand to be sure it was still there.  Little by little, his heartbeat returned to normal.

?Yes,? his voice was hoarse.  He cleared his throat and wiped his hand over his perspiration-drenched face, then stared at it to be sure it was sweat and not something more sinister.  ?I am fine.  A dream?? he trailed off, glancing around him at the forest which looked monochromatic and alien now.

?Looks like more than that,? the tiefling pushed himself to his feet and stared at the drow, who was still not yet composed.  Solaufein drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his forehead on them.

?No,? he spoke into the hollow of his lap.  ?It was just a dream.?

?I never can decide if I?m envious of that,? Haer?dalis sighed as he sat on the ground beside Sola.  ?I don?t have dreams, you see.?

?Then you are fortunate,? Sola lifted his head and looked out at the stream.  The water looked black like the liquid in his nightmare.  He shuddered.

?I don?t know,? Haer?dalis leaned back on his elbows.  ?I wonder what that must be like to escape to your own private fantasy. I don?t know why planars can?t dream, but I think that?s the reason I?ve always been fascinated by the arts.  It?s the closest I can get to dreaming.?

?Would that I could have your troubles, abbil,? the drow smiled thinly.  Haer?dalis chuckled and thumped him reassuringly on the back.

?Well, you?re awake now,? he grinned.  ?I?ve heard tell that some berks can control their dreams.  Maybe you should try that.  Dream yourself up some buxom dark-hued maiden who can curl your toes.?

?My dreams seem to drag me along behind them,? he grimaced, rubbing his temples with his fingers.  ?How long have we been here??

?I don?t know,? Haer shrugged.  ?To guess by the moon, we probably have another four or five hours before sunrise.?

?I should go now,? he stretched his neck and began to stand.  ?Before it gets light.  It will be easier to stay concealed.?

?How long should I wait here??

?It is as I said.  I shall return before the next moonrise,? Solaufein unsheathed his sword and stared at it, watching the moonlight glint sharply off of the black blade.  He ran his finger gently over the edge.

?And if you don?t return??  Haer had been waiting to ask Sola that question.  But the right time hadn?t come, and so he decided to seize the moment.  ?I was thinking I should head back to Athkatla after a day or two.  I don?t think I was recognized.  I?m not quite as?uh?memorable as you.?

?I shall return,? Sola slid his sword back into the sheath and slung it over his shoulder. His face set with a grave determination.  ?By stealth or by sword, I will be here when the morrow?s night falls, abbil.  The rivven will not overtake me.?

?I see,? Haer?dalis arched an eyebrow at Sola, not in doubt, but in wonder at the depth of the drow?s unemotional resolve.  ?I will wait here, then.  But should the gods intervene and you find yourself?ah? delayed, I will be at the Five Flagons.  You remember where that is??

?Yes,? he nodded.  ?Nevertheless, I will return.?

?Alright, cutter,? Haer shrugged and leaned back on the grass, twirling a leaf between his long fingers.  ?You?re as barmy as a Spire god, aren?t you, blood?  Well, I wish you luck, then.?

?Luck,? Solaufein muttered solemnly, shaking his head as he paced away to find a clearing for his incantation. ?I wonder if that means the same thing to you as it does to me.?

?Why?,? Haer was confused, but curious.

?Among my people,? he turned and gave the tiefling a cast-iron glare.  ?Ap?zen? ?Luck? is something that keeps an idiot from a deserved death.?

?Then what do you hope for a friend??  He smiled softly at Solaufein.

?Boron,? he replied.  ?Plynn l?boron.  Seize the advantage.?

?Well,? Haer?dalis watched as the drow began his incantation.  ?Plynn l?boron.  And seize a set of harp strings too, if you happen upon any.?

Solaufein was already too involved in his magic to hear Haer?dalis? droll reply.  As he shifted into the Border Ethereal, the world phased into a dense mist around him.  He would have only a few moments to find his bearings and his destination before he became disoriented in the murky, swirling realm between the Prime Material and the Elemental.  Keeping his focus required his entire concentration, lest he find himself stranded in the wasteland of the Deep Ethereal.

Haer?dalis continued to watch the spot where Solaufein had just stood, wondering to himself whether the drow had any real sensibility for the nature of chaos.  He knew that ultimately, no amount of advantage would bring a person ahead of the zero-sum game that is existence.  In fact, the only thing that let a person temporarily evade the decay of Entropy was, indeed, luck.  So, he quietly wished his friend good fortune, but expected that he?d have to make his way to the Five Flagons alone, regardless of Solaufein?s assurances.