IronDragon

This is part of my longer (and unfinished multi section novel ?The Fallen? This piece is part of the pre-history and the early days of the characters, in this case Valygar.




Good Hunting


From my fathers seed, From my mothers womb,
From my families mold, from a broken tomb

If I am the assembled, from the sins of my father,
And if I am created, by the actions of my mother,
If I was brought to being, by a broken machine.
How could I come to be, sane

Twisted and Broken
Abney Park





He thought that killing his father would be difficult.

He was wrong.

Valygar stared down at the unmoving corpse that wore a sick parody of his father?s appearance. Except for the fact that the thing no longer moved, no longer made soft, strangled guttural sounds it looked no different than before Valygar had thrust the blade of his sword through where the things unbeating heart was, he felt no grief or remorse, but neither did he feel relief. The dead thing he had destroyed superficially looked like his father, but there was nothing of the man he loved within its decaying flesh, nothing at all. It was just a shell that magic had animated into a mockery of life, a mockery of his father. Valygar wiped the black blood from his sword blade tossing the fowled cleaning rag onto the zombie?s corpse. He would burn its body later, to ensure the thing was truly destroyed. The nights business here in his childhood home had only just started.

He had returned to Athkatla and his family?s estate only hours before. He was exhausted from his journey from the Dragon Coast but he refused to rest until his task here was complete. The frantic letter from his families head servant detailing the horror that had befallen their home had forced him to leave his detachment in the scouts without permission. He doubted permission would be granted if he had even bothered to ask his commanding officer. How does one explain that one?s mother had finally gone insane and used her magics to animate the corpse of one?s father and having been disappointed in the results had likewise turned herself into an undead monstrosity? There would be hell to pay when he finally returned to his unit, but he would deal with that when the time came.

Now he needed to find what was left of his mother, and kill it. That would not be difficult, the creature deserved to die for what it had done to his father?s body, to his father?s memory.

Valygar knelt and touched his father?s cold mottled face. Unseeing milk white eyes stared back at him, they held no expression, not anger or sadness or even relief, nothing. He wanted to believe that the thing?s misery was at an end, that it was finally at peace. But there really was no expression. Where ever his father was right now, Valygar hoped he was a rest. ?It was a clean kill father, just like you taught me.?

____

It was the summer of his twelfth year and like every year for as long as he could remember he and his father had spent a month in the small cabin in the Umar Hills, hunting, fishing and hiking the endless tails through the hills and forests. For Valygar it was a month away from the stifling responsibilities of his education and his position in society. When he was away from Athkatla he was not the heir to the Corthala name, not a young member of Amnish nobility, he was free to be himself here. In the small village near the cabin, no one called his father ?Lord Corthala? and none of the other boys treated him any differently because of who his parents were. Here, father was not expected to receive guests, or to engage in inane and pointless conversations at dinners or parties. It was a good place to be.

It was this year his father had insisted on leaving their cabin several days early to travel south to Trademeet before returning to Athkatla. Valygar had not been to Trademeet for years, other than an image of the tall spires that the houses of the city were famous for he remembered nothing of his last visit. At Trademeet Valygar followed along with his father to the various commercial stalls and stores of the town?s seemingly endless supply of merchants. They purchased little and he had to wonder just why they had spent the time to come here. The merchants had a wide variety of goods available, but certainly the same things could be had in the Grand Promenade in Athkatla. Still his father inspected the wares of every merchant obviously looking for something. Valygar?s inquiries into what his father sought were answered with a cryptic ?I?ll know it when I see it.?

Finally about midday in a small dusty shop well off the main streets. His father apparently fund the elusive ?it.? He held a small carved wooden and sighed in a satisfied way. With a grin he turned the box around and held it before Vlaygar. The box held a pale flower, it reclined on blue velvet. Valygar thought it odd a fresh, dew-covered flower was to be found in a dust covered box in the back of a musty shop. It took a moment to realize that it was not a flower at all, rather it was a crystal sculpted into the form of a flower. ?Dwarven workman ship. There is none better for such work,? his father announced. ?Your mother will love it.?

His father did not even haggle about the price he just tossed gold at the merchant and left announcing that they could be on the road again within the hour if they put their minds to it.

After passing through the elaborately carved city gates Valygar broached the topic of staying several days in Trademeet or better yet to explore the forests south of that city.

?Are you not eager to see your mother again?? Was his father?s question.

?Yes?sort of.? Was all Valygar could get out.

?You know that, she is always happy to have you home safe once again.?

?Not for very long?? Mother was always happy at their return from their time in the Umar Hills. He knew she would be waiting at the front door for them and tell them how lonely she had been in the weeks they had been away. She would lavish attention of Valygar for a few days, but then the novelty of his presence would wear off and she would once again return to her private study where her books and scrolls waited for her. Within a weeks time she would begin gently rebuffing him and his father and within a month, she would be back to taking most meals in her study and emerging rarely if ever. When she did come down from her study she was either exhausted and uninterested in spending much time with her family or furious about something inexplicable. Valygar dreaded the times she came downstairs angry, such an occasion meant she would become very critical of how Valygar was progressing with his schoolwork or the condition of his clothes or his appearance or some expression he wore.

As if reading his son?s mind Lord Corthala said, ?She is always happy to have you around, she just sometimes, gets involved with her work?that she forgets herself.?

Valygar gave his father a sidelong glance showing he was not entirely convinced his father was being truthful.

?Someday you will better understand why she pushes herself so hard.? His father?s reassurance sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Valygar sighted a deer near the trail and took the opportunity to change the subject. He pointed and with a broad smile notched an arrow in his bow. ?I can hit it from here.? He boasted. Before his father could protest Valygar had his bow out and let an arrow fly, it stuck the deer squarely in the flank. The animal startled and bounded into the scrub out of sight.

?What are you thinking?? His father nudged his horse into a trot stopping near where the deer had bounded into the woods.

His father refused to leave the deer to suffer even though it took hours to track the wounded animal down. When they finally found the creature, it had collapsed from blood loss and was near death. It wheezed and struggled to stand hurting itself worse for it panic.

?Is this what you wanted when you took aim?? His father asked quietly. Valygar would have preferred a harsh scolding to the stern look of disapproval his father was giving him. He remained silent. ?If you are going to hunt something you best be sure not just of your aim but you must also be sure of your reasons for the hunt as well. If you must kill, make sure you have just cause, and make sure you can do it cleanly and swiftly. It is wrong to make something suffer because you are bored.?

Valygar wished very much to be anywhere else at the moment. Even back home listening to his mother carry on about his unacceptable progress in his history studies.

?Well,? his father said handing him a knife. ?Time for you to finish the job.?

Valygar stared at the knife and at the deer. He realized killing something from a distance with an arrow and killing with one?s hands were very different things.


_____


Valygar slipped out of his parent?s bedroom hugging the shadows. He assumed that what was left of his mother would be in her study on the third floor. She spent most of her life up here, why should she be different in death. It had been years since he had climbed those narrow steps, dust and cobwebs encroached on the risers, years ago mother had forbidden the maid from ever entering her study, apparently the hired girl was to afraid to even touch broom to the stairway.

At the closed door of the study, he paused for long minutes listening for any clue as to where in the room the creature would be. He heard nothing save for the pounding of his own heart. Tightening his grip on the katana his father had presented him when he left to join the scouts Valygar shoved the door open and scanned the room. The study was much as he remembered it from his childhood, bookcases overflowing with scrolls and leather bound volumes, a cluttered desk by beneath a small window, papers scattered across the floor. Nothing moved. He cursed silently. Somewhere in the house was his mother?s husk. In life she had been a formidable spell caster, formidable enough that the newly formed cowled wizards had invited her to lead their number. She had declined their invitation claiming her studies must always come first. Her power had likely only increased since then. His best chance was to catch her by surprise and end her existence quickly before she could bring her considerable magical talents to her defense.

From the floor below came a high pitched wail. Valygar realized his chance of surprising his mother had passed.

He returned to his parent?s bedchamber to find the creature he hunted bent over the body of his father, it shook with painful wrenching sobs. For the back, it still looked like his mother. The pale robes she wore this time of year, her dark hair elaborately braided and tied back. He knew that this was not his mother, he knew it was a fetid creation of her own desire for power, yet instead of striking from behind, he still hesitated.

In his moment of hesitation, he must have given his presence away. The creature turned. Superficially it still looked like his mother, the only noticeable difference was that it?s dark ebony skin looked drawn and dry, like paper that had been charred by fire. She looked at his face, then to his sword and then back to his face. ?Why?? It sobbed as it stroked his father?s hair. ?Why did you do this Valygar??

?Why? You steal father?s corpse from the graveyard and make it a puppet, a mockery of life and you have the gall to ask why I destroyed it. You turn your self into?into? and you demand I explain myself.?

?I could have returned him to life. I know I could have. I just needed time to research and prepare.? The creature seemed to be trying to cry but no tears would form.

?He is dead.?

?No!? She screamed clutching the corpse its dead husband. It?s not true?.it?s not. I love him so much.?

?It had to be done.? Was all he could manage. Valygar desperately wanted to hold his mother, to comfort her. Unlike his father, the creature before him was at some level still the woman he loved. ?If it is not by my hand then by the hands of the guards or the priests. I could not stomach the thought of?It had be done. You are dead?you both belong in the grave.?

?You don?t understand.?

Valygar was expecting the creature to attack, not sob and speak of love. ?No, I do not understand. And there is nothing you can say to make me understand.? The creature looked helpless and pathetic, not formidable at all. ?He is dead?.Mother. And so are you.?

?Yes dear, I know.? She looked at the sword pointed at her. Valygar strained to keep his hand from trembling. ?If you had been as focused on your studies as you were on traipsing through the woods you would know that your sword will do nothing except rip my clothing. I am beyond being harmed by something like that.? Valygar tensed expecting a magical attack. The creature stood, she smoothed her robes. His mother?s hand moved to pass against the braids of her hair, ensuring all was in place, a gesture he had seen innumerable times. ?The process I ?engaged in?involved placing my soul into a vessel, freeing my body from such earthly concerns.?

Valygar could not keep his feeling from his expression.

?Do I disgust you that much, my son? Yes, I suppose I do. You never tolerated my calling well. It was a calling based on necessity, when I married into the Corthala family I did so knowing our days are numbered. Your father had no talent to bring to bear to protect us so that burden fell to me. The time I spent in study and mediation was time spent planning to face he who would take you and destroy you. Do not scowl so, you have never appreciated the danger your ancestor poses, the danger is all too real. I pray that Lavok does not return in your lifetime, I have prayed that every day since your birth.?

She walked to the bedside table and picked up a small wooden box. She carried it to Valygar. ?As I said, my soul has been placed in a vessel. To kill?to end my existence, you must destroy that vessel.? Valygar cautiously took the box and flipped the lid open. Inside was the crystal flower his father had purchased years ago in Trademeet.

?Valygar, I understand why you did what you did to your father, and I understand why you must continue on the path you have chosen, and I forgive you.? She reached out a hand to touch his face, but Valygar shied away from her. Pain crossed her face, pain and despair. ?Please, understand, when you truly love someone you care nothing about what happens to you, your only concern is for the one you love.? She looked at the corpse lying on the floor. ?I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for what I did, try to understand, I had my good reasons.?

Valygar?s mother turned and strode back to the body of her husband. She knelt and took it into her arms, smoothing his hair as she did so. ?I am coming my love.? She whispered.

Valygar took the crystal rose from its box and set it on the floor. He paused for a moment, there was so much left to say, but there had been enough suffering this night for both hunter and prey. Valygar brought his boot down on the sculpture and it shattered. Like a marionette with it?s strings cut, his mother?s body jerked to the side and then collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

He thought that killing his mother would be easy.

He was wrong.

A Few Thoughts on Wings

Aerie surveyed the members of the party. They had been traveling with for nearly a month now and they each meant so much to her, each in their own special way. After the times they had had together, the battles they had faced she felt certain they would listen and understand her anguish. She cleared her throat and spoke in a loud clear voice, ?I lost my wings you know.?

?Yeah...you?ve mentioned that once or twice? Nalia muttered pulling a blanket up over her head.

Jaheira started to rub her temples. ?By Silvanus, the woman is unnatural.?

Aerie allowed a pouty frown settle onto her lips, held her head high and continued. ?They were torn from me by slavers. This shows the cruelness of fate to have such a vital piece of my existence ripped from me.?

Sir Keldorn Firecam looked as if he were near tears, surely he understood her pain. ?For the love of the gods, please, please ? shut up!? He begged.

?I can no longer soar among the clouds,? Aeire continued undaunted. ?Yet I will persevere even though I am scarred and stranded here on the ground with beings like you? Hopeless pathetic beings who will never understand my misery or my torment.?

?Torment?? Hadrian drew Holy Avenger from its scabbard it?s jeweled handle glittered in the firelight. ?That is IT?I have had it. There?s goanna be chunks of winged elf flying all over the place!? Mazzy and Yoshimo tackled Hadrian, shoving him to the ground before he could make good on his threat and charge Aerie. ?NO!? He screamed. ?You won?t stop me this time!?

?Your grace.? Mazzy implored. ?Think of the consequences. You will be a fallen Paladin?no longer able to wield the holy sword you now hold in your hand. Your quest to free your sister would be in jeopardy.?

?Yes my young friend.? Yoshimo agreed prying the hilt of Carsomyr from his hand one finger at a time. ?Think of the consequences. What you contemplate, while surely satisfying, it is not worth it.? with a grunt he pried the last of Hadrian?s fingers from the hilt. ?Now why don?t you return to your bed roll and get some sleep? Things will be better in the morning.?

Aerie said unmoved by the spectacle before her. She moved to Hadran and crouched down so her huge limpit eyes, damp with tears unshed, shimmered in the firelight. ?You must think of me as hideously deformed, Don?t you Hadrian??

Hadrian bellowed and almost threw Mazzy and Yoshimo off of him. He renewed his struggle to get his sword. ?Give me my sword! Oh, it will be worth it all right. Give ti to me!?

Mazzy sighed while putting Hadrian in a sleeper hold. ?Sir Keldorn, do come and help force Hadrian back into his bedroll and Nalia, stop trying to hide and be a dear and cast sleep on Hadrian?and the rest of us as well.?

Aerie pouted and turned back to the fire of their campsite. This did not go at all like she had hoped, but then the two AM announcement always made everyone so testy.

Notemeal:
This is a chapter from my ongoing BG1 novelization ?The Fallen, the Dark, and the Blessed? available at EpicExtreme.





The Brave Knight and the Beautiful Princess


If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail

If You Could Read My Mind
Gordon Lightfoot



Hadrian?s room at the inn was small and unadorned but it was clean and adequate to his needs. A narrow bed pushed up against the wall, a large oak dresser, a washstand with pitcher and bowel, the single arrow slit window shuttered against the chill night air looked out onto nothing. As small as the room was, it was still a good deal larger than the room he had grown up with at Candlekeep. Luxury was not something he needed or desired, a private room like this felt like an extravagance they could ill afford and he had protested the suggestion of a private room. However, Hadrian was honest enough to admit that he would not have slept at all if he were to take a bed in the barrack like room usually reserved for servants and the poor. Khalid and Jaheira had also insisted he and Imoen remain close to them, their room was only a few doors down the dim hallway.

He stared at the bed wondering if he really wanted to climb between its sheets. He had not had any real sleep for days and for the first time since leaving Candlekeep he was clean, his stomach was full, and thanks to a laying on of hands by Jaheira his arm and shoulder were now blessedly free from pain. Still, he was sure sleep would elude him. No matter how inviting the bed looked he knew it was a honey trap, sweet smelling and innocent looking, something to draw him in where the true horrors awaited. Tonight was not the first time in his life that Hadrian felt the twinge of jealousy for those whose sleep was not nightly punctuated by horrific nightmares

The emotional numbness that had settled over him since the murder of his father was slowly lifting. Already he could feel the dark pit of depression looming large and beyond that an ocean of anger burned, of the two depression was preferred, he knew all to well where anger led.

The soft staccato tapping on his door shattered the silence, it was both surprising and familiar. He quickly pulled on a pair of loose linen pants and tied their drawstring as he put his shoulder to the heavy dresser he had shoved in front of the door. It scraped across the floor with only mild protest. As soon as the dresser was aside and the door unlatched, Imoen slipped into the room. She slammed herself into her brother and wrapped her arms around his midsection, pressed her head into his chest and squeezed hard. Hadrian returned the gesture. They stood silent in their embrace for some time before Imoen turned her head and regarded the dresser that had been guarding the door and glancing up at him said, ?Feeling a little paranoid??

Hadrian did not break their embrace. ?In the last four days four different assassins have tried to take my life. One of them managed to kill father. There is a bounty on my head and I do not know why. I think I have the right to be paranoid.?

?I suppose,? Imoen said. ?But that spiked armor guy was no assassin, he worked with a group and he was good, real good. And if he were an assassin, I really don?t think he would have bothered with someone like you. No profit. After all the bounty on you is only two hundred gold, so you can?t be that] important.?

Hadrian pulled away and scowled at his sister.

Imoen reached up and gently patted his cheek. ?And don?t look at me that way.? She settled onto his bed and pulled the thick patchwork quilt up around her shoulders against the chill night air. The small smile that had briefly played across her face vanished. ?I think Jaheira and Khalid know why there is a bounty on your head.?

?I think that they know why too.? Hadrian sat on the bed and pushed himself across it to rest his back against the wood paneled wall. ?What I don?t understand is why they try to pretend that they do not know. At first I thought they just didn?t want to say anything in that common room, but even after leaving they remained tight lipped.?

?Do you think we can trust them??

?No.? Hadrian sighed and put his head into his hands. ?I should trust them. If they wanted us dead, they could have just stayed their hand and not bothered to intervene with that assassin. Father trusted them, and that should be enough but it is not.? Hadrian rubbed his temples. ?Unless of course they were the ones who hired Tarnish to attempt to kill me just so they could save us and gain our trust.?

?You don?t really think that, do you??

?No, I don?t. Just trying to look at all the possibilities, there are far too many to sort out just what is going on. And these two Harpers just add to possibilities rather than make things clear. Do you think we can trust them??

?I don?t know if we should trust them. I mean, what do we really know about them? Nothing.?

The silence settled around them and stayed for some time.

?This isn?t how I pictured it,? Hadrian said quietly. ?Leaving Candlekeep I mean. This isn?t what adventuring is supposed to be like. In all those stories and books, where the hero leaves his home to seek destiny and his fortune, he always knows where he is going and what his next move is. A hero doesn?t hide in an inn with the door blockaded to keep the bad guys out trying to decide who he can and cannot trust, and he certainly doesn?t sit in that room with his sister. A real hero wouldn?t be hiding, he would be tracking the assassin?s employer to confront that evil doer and along the way he would find an enchanted talking sword, slay a dragon, save entire towns, rescue the beautiful and mysterious queen of the elves, solve the mystery of his past, and end up breaking at least two hearts.?

Imoen made a fist and gently punched Hadrian on the shoulder. ?You bufflehead, don?t tell me you believed those fluff and nonsense stories.?

?No.? Hadrian blushed, ?of course not.?

?Liar.? Imoen almost laughed. ?Finally, the truth comes out, all of your dreams about becoming a knight were based on nothing but a bunch of third rate bard tales and cheap books by semi-literate hacks.?

?Was not. They were, at the very least second rate bards tales. And as far as books by semi-literate hacks go, you don?t have a lot of room to talk dear sister. I seem to recall you living on a steady diet of books about amazingly beautiful merchant daughters who disguise themselves as commoners in order to save their family?s fortune only to end up falling in love with some dashing rouge or pirate captain who, naturally, turns out to be a foreign prince and the two of them marry and live happily ever after.?

?Those books were completely different, they had cultural value.?

Hadrian snorted.

?You just never learned to appreciate great literature.? Imoen picked at the seam of the quilt. ?But you?re right, it wasn?t supposed to be like this. This defiantly was not how I thought I would leave Candlekeep or what I would be doing once I left. And I wanted to leave so very badly for so very long.?

?I know.?

?Was I that obvious?? Imoen asked.

?Yes, you were. I?m surprised you stayed as long as you did.? Hadrian stared at a blank spot on the wall for a while. ?I hated that place.?

Imoen nodded. ?I know. And yes, you were that obvious. Why did you stay??

?Why did you stay??

?The same reason you did I guess. I wanted to escape Candlekeep, but I didn?t want to escape father. I miss him.?

?I miss him too,? Hadrian said taking Imoen?s hand

?So, where do we go come morning?? she asked. ?This place wants us around about as much as Candlekeep did. What does the brave and heroic knight think we should do??

?He was hoping the beautiful and clever princess would have a few ideas.? Hadrian shrugged. ?I don?t know what we should do, but I can tell you this, I will not go into hiding, I would refuse to hide even if there were an army of Harpers here to take us to some sanctuary. Running away doesn?t solve anything and it won?t answer any of our questions. It won?t avenge father?and I am sure it would do nothing to keep us safe.?

?You mean keep you safe baby brother. I?m not the one with the bounty on her head. And let me tell you it?s a good thing that reward is a mere pittance, now if it were a thousand gold?well, lets just say that a girl could do quite a lot with a thousand gold don?t ya know.?

?Imoen, your concern for my well being is touching.?

?Yes, I know it is, and it is completely undeserved as well. Back to the question of what do we do next?.Jaheira wants to go investigate the Iron mine in Nashkel. We could go with them. I know we can?t exactly trust them, but they are all we have right now.? A sly grin played across Imoen?s features ?Maybe once we get there we can hook up with Xzar and Monty again. Wouldn?t that be great??

Hadrian frowned, ?It?s good that I know when you are joking.?

?Better yet, we can find that weird red wizard again. I think he liked you. I mean REALLY liked you? She winked theatrically at Hadrian, ?If ya know what I mean.?

?Please don?t??

She leaned close the brother and dropped her voice an octave and said in a breathy voice ?Ho there wanderer, stay thy course and indulge an old man?Do you like my hat? It?s so big and red and?? Imoen let out a shuddering gasp, ?pointy.?

Hadrian stifled a laugh

?Made you smile.? The mood faded quickly, Imoen sighed. ?I guess we are back to our original question?.do we trust Jaheira and Khalid? Can we trust them if they wont trust us enough to tell us why someone wants you dead??

?Their lack of trust in us is only part of it.?

Imoen waited in silence for a time before poking her brother in the arm. ?And?the other part??

?They are afraid.? Hadrian held up a hand, ?Don?t ask what they are afraid of, me, us, whoever wants me dead, something else?I don?t know. We can add that question to our ever-growing list of unanswered questions.? Hadrian yawned. ?No, we can?t trust our new Harper friends. Yes, we should go with them to investigate the Iron Shortage despite the fact we cannot trust them, if for no other reason than to hope that soon they will tell us what they are hiding. No, we will not hook back up with Xzar and Monty even if we find them. And that red hat may have been pointy?but I?ve seen bigger.?

Good Hunting


From my fathers seed, From my mothers womb,
From my families mold, from a broken tomb

If I am the assembled, from the sins of my father,
And if I am created, by the actions of my mother,
If I was brought to being, by a broken machine.
How could I come to be, sane

Twisted and Broken
Abney Park




He thought that killing his father would be difficult.

He was wrong.

Valygar stared down at the unmoving corpse that wore a sick parody of his father?s appearance. Except for the fact that the thing no longer moved and no longer made soft, strangled guttural sounds it looked no different than before Valygar had thrust the blade of his sword through where the things unbeating heart was. He felt no grief or remorse, but neither did he feel relief. The dead thing he had destroyed superficially looked like his father, but there was nothing of the man he loved within its decaying flesh, nothing at all. It was just a shell that magic had animated into a mockery of life, a mockery of his father. Valygar wiped the black blood from his sword blade tossing the fowled cleaning rag onto the zombie?s corpse. He would burn its body later, to ensure the thing was truly destroyed. His business here in his childhood home was not done yet.

He had returned to Athkatla and his family?s estate only hours before. He was exhausted from his journey from the Dragon Coast but he refused to rest until his task here was complete. The frantic letter from his families head servant had forced him to leave his detachment in the scouts without permission. He doubted permission would be granted if he had even bothered to ask his commanding officer. How does one explain that one?s mother had finally gone insane and used her magics to animate the corpse of one?s father and having been disappointed in the results had likewise turned herself into an undead monstrosity? There would be hell to pay when he finally returned to his unit, but he would deal with that when the time came.

Now he needed to find what was left of his mother, and kill it. That would not be difficult, the creature deserved to die for what it had done to his father?s body, to his father?s memory.

Valygar knelt and touched his father?s cold mottled face. Unseeing milk white eyes stared back at him, they held no expression, not anger or even relief, nothing. He wanted to believe that the thing?s misery was at an end, that it was finally at peace. But there really was no expression. Where ever his father was right now, Valygar hoped he was a rest. ?It was a clean kill father, just like you taught me.?

____

It was the summer of his twelfth year and like every year for as long as he could remember he and his father had spent a month in the small cabin in the Umar Hills, hunting, fishing and hiking the endless tails through the hills and forests. For Valygar it was a month away from the stifling responsibilities of his education and his position in society. When he was away from Athkatla he was not the heir to the Corthala name, not a young member of Amnish nobility, he was free to be himself here. In the small village near the cabin, no one called his father ?Lord Corthala? and none of the other boys treated him any differently because of who his parents were. Here, father was not expected to receive guests, or to engage in inane and pointless conversations at dinners or parties. It was a good place to be.

It was this year his father had insisted on leaving their cabin several days early planning to travel south to Trademeet before returning to Athkatla. Valygar had not been to Trademeet for years, other than an image of the tall spires that the houses of the city were famous for he remembered nothing of his last visit. At Trademeet Valygar followed along with his father to the various commercial stalls and stores of the town?s seemingly endless supply of merchants. They purchased little and he had to wonder just why they had spent the time to come here. The merchants had a wide variety of goods available, but certainly the same things could be had in the Grand Promenade in Athkatla. Still his father inspected the wares of every merchant obviously looking for something. Valygar?s inquiries into what his father sought were answered with a cryptic ?I?ll know it when I see it.?

Finally about midday in a small box his father sighed in a satisfied way. He held up a flower for his son?s inspection. Valygar thought it odd a fresh, dew-covered flower was to be found in a box in the back of a musty tent. It took a moment to realize that it was not a flower at all, rather it was a crystal sculpted into the form of a flower. ?Dwarven workman ship. There is none better for such work, his father announced. ?Your mother will like it.?

His father did not even haggle about the price he just tossed gold at the merchant and left the left announcing that they could be on the road again within the hour if they put their minds to it.

After passing through the elaborately carved city gates Valygar broached the topic of staying several days in Trademeet or better yet to explore the forests south of that city.

?Are you not eager to see your mother again?? Was his father?s question.

?Yes?sort of.? Was all Valygar could get out.

?You know that, she is always happy to have you home safe once again.?

?Not for very long?? Mother was always happy at their return from their time in the Umar Hills. He knew she would be waiting at the front door for them and tell them how lonely she had been in the weeks they had been away. She would lavish attention of Valygar for a few days, but then the novelty of his presence would wear off and she would once again return to her private study where her books and scrolls waited for her. Within a weeks time she would begin gently rebuffing him and his father and within a month, she would be back to taking most meals in her study and emerging only rarely. When she did come down from her study she was either exhausted and uninterested in spending much time with her family or furious about something inexplicable. Valygar dreaded the times she came downstairs angry, such an occasion meant she would become very critical of how Valygar was progressing with his schoolwork.

As if reading his son?s mind Lord Corthala said, ?She is always happy to have you around, she just sometimes, gets involved with her work?that she forgets herself.?

Valygar gave his father a sidelong glance showing he was not entirely convinced his father was being truthful.

?Someday you will better understand why she pushes herself so hard.? His father?s reassurance sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Valygar sighted a deer near the trail and took the opportunity to change the subject. He pointed and with a broad smile notched an arrow in his bow. ?I can hit it from here.? He boasted. Before his father could protest Valygar let his arrow fly, it stuck the deer squarely in the flank. The animal bounded into the scrub out of sight.

?What are you thinking?? His father nudged his horse into a trot stopping near where the deer had bounded into the woods.

It took Valygar and his father hours to track the wounded animal down. His father refused to leave the deer to suffer. When they finally found the creature, it had collapsed from blood loss and was near death.

?Is this what you wanted when you took aim?? Valygar would have preferred a harsh scolding to the stern look of disapproval his father was giving him. He remained silent. ?If you are going to hunt something you best be sure not just of your aim but you must also be sure of your reasons for the hunt as well. If you must kill, make sure you have just cause, and make sure you can do it cleanly and swiftly. It is wrong to make something suffer because you are bored.?

Valygar wished very much to be anywhere else at the moment. Even back home listening to his mother carry on about his unacceptable progress in his history studies.

?Well,? his father said handing him a knife. ?Time for you to finish the job.?

Valygar stared at the knife and at the deer. He realized killing something with an arrow and killing with one?s hands were very different things.


_____


Valygar slipped out of his parent?s bedroom hugging the shadows. He assumed that what was left of his mother would be in her study on the third floor. She spent most of her life up here, why should she be different in death. It had been years since he had climbed those narrow steps, dust and cobwebs encroached on the risers, years ago mother had forbidden the maid from ever entering her study, apparently the hired girl was to afraid to even touch broom to the stairway.

At the closed door of the study, he paused for long minutes listening for any clue as to where in the room the creature would be. He heard nothing save for the pounding of his own heart. Tightening his grip on the katana his father had presented him when he left to join the scouts Valygar shoved the door open and scanned the room. The study was much as he remembered it from his childhood, bookcases overflowing with scrolls and leather bound volumes, a cluttered desk by beneath a small window, papers scattered across the floor. Nothing moved. He cursed silently. Somewhere in the house what was left of his mother. In life she had been a formidable spell caster, formidable enough that the newly formed cowled wizards had invited her to lead their number. She had declined their invitation claiming her studies must always come first. Her power had likely only increased since then. His best chance was to catch her by surprise and end her existence quickly before she could bring her considerable magical talents to her defense.

From the floor below came a high pitched wail. Valygar realized his chance of surprising his mother had passed.

He returned to his parent?s bedchamber to find the creature he hunted bent over the body of his father, it shook with painful wrenching sobs. For the back, it still looked like his mother. The pale robes she wore this time of year, her dark hair elaborately braided and tied back. He knew that this was not his mother, he knew it was a fetid creation of her own desire for power, yet instead of striking from behind, he still hesitated.

In his moment of hesitation, he must have given his presence away. The creature turned. Superficially it still looked like his mother, the only noticeable difference was that it?s dark ebony skin looked drawn and dry, like paper that had been charred by fire. She looked at his face, then to his sword and then back to his face. ?Why?? It sobbed as it stroked his father?s hair. ?Why did you do this Valygar??

?Why? You steal father?s corpse from the graveyard and make it a puppet, a mockery of life and you have the gall to ask why I destroyed it. You turn your self into?into? and you demand I explain myself.?

?I could have returned him to life. I know I could have. I just needed time to research and prepare.? The creature seemed to be trying to cry but no tears would form.

?He is dead.?

?No!? She screamed clutching the corpse its dead husband. It?s not true?.it?s not. I love him so much.?

?It had to be done.? Was all he could manage. Valygar desperately wanted to hold his mother, to comfort her. Unlike his father, the creature before him was at some level still the woman he loved. ?If it is not by my hand then by the hands of the guards or the priests. I could not stomach the thought of?It had be done. You are dead?you both belong in the grave.?

?You don?t understand.?

Valygar was expecting the creature to attack, not sob and speak of love. ?No, I do not understand. And there is nothing you can say to make me understand.? The creature looked helpless and pathetic, not formidable at all. ?He is dead?.Mother. And so are you.?

?Yes dear, I know.? She looked at the sword pointed at her. Valygar strained to keep his hand from trembling. ?If you had been as focused on your studies as you were on traipsing through the woods you would know that your sword will do nothing except rip my clothing. I am beyond being harmed by something like that.? Valygar tensed expecting a magical attack. The creature stood, she smoothed her robes. His mother?s hand moved to pas against the brids of her hair, a gesture he had seen innumerable times. ?The process I ?engaged in?involved placing my soul into a vessel, freeing my body from such earthly concerns.?

Valygar could not keep his feeling from his expression.

?Do I disgust you that much, my son? Yes, I suppose I do. You never tolerated my calling well. It was a calling based on necessity, when I married into the Corthala family I did so knowing our days are numbered. Your father had no talent to bring to bear to protect us so that burden fell to me. The time I spent in study and mediation was time spent planning to face he who would take you and destroy you. Do not scowl so, you have never appreciated the danger your ancestor poses, the danger is all too real. I pray that Lavok does not return in your lifetime, I have prayed that every day since your birth.?

She walked to the bedside table and picked up a small wooden box. She carried it to Valygar. ?As I said, my soul has been placed in a vessel. To kill?to end my existence, you must destroy that vessel.? Valygar cautiously took the box and flipped the lid open. Inside was the crystal flower his father had purchased years ago in Trademeet.

?Valygar, I understand why you did what you did to your father, and I understand why you must continue on the path you have chosen, and I forgive you.? She reached out a hand to touch his face, but Valygar shied away from her. Pain crossed her face, pain and despair. ?Please, understand, when you truly love someone you care nothing about what happens to you, your only concern is for the one you love.? She looked at the corpse lying on the floor. ?I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me for what I did, try to understand, I had my good reasons.?

Valygar?s mother turned and strode back to the body of her husband. She knelt and took it into her arms, smoothing his hair as she did so. ?I am coming my love.? She whispered.

Valygar took the crystal rose from its box and set it on the floor. He paused for a moment, there was so much left to say, but there had been enough suffering this night for both hunter and prey. Valygar brought his boot down on the sculpture and it shattered. Like a marionette with it?s strings cut, his mother?s body jerked to the side and then collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

He thought that killing his mother would be easy.

He was wrong.

I have encountered a problem with Nathaniel and I don?t see anyone else having similar issues.  Several times, at about the same time in the game (shortly after the cake talk) Nathaniel will encounter movement problems.  Nathaniel stops will not move with group commands, he stops moving to attack hostiles even when individually and when directed to a single space will move only halfway to that point or less.  

I?ve tried going back to an earlier save but the problem reasserts at the same point.  I have reinstalling him and even erased him and downloaded him in a new download.  But the problem persists.

Otherwise I was quite enjoying the new NPC.