Chapter 58. He Who Hesitates

fter a somewhat amusing bath heated by elementalist fire, Armand and Brigit were treated to a hearty meal of venison stew with rice and a savory clump of steamed greens.  Of course they were guided to the fire side and expected to regale their hosts with the tale of their journey. Armand allowed Brigit to take the lead and she enthusiastically described Frida and the dwarven thane, their excellent monk Asuna and their wise trailblazer, Zenaida.  When Shikai realized how far they must travel, they hard parted with their friends at Droknar’s Forge and sped toward the mysterious island carrying as little as possible.

While the chatter went on, Armand nodded off.  He normally traveled well, but the cold and near constant movement had worn him down.  At some point he leaned toward Brigit and ended up with his head on her lap.  Blankets accumulated over him like the snow of the Shiverpeaks.  Warm for the first time in weeks, he dozed, occasionally awakening to bursts of laughter or to the feel of Brigit’s hand stroking his shoulder or hair.

Brigit awakened him after what might have been hours, kissing him lightly upon the temple and putting her lips near his ear to tell him it was time to go to bed.  Blinking sleepily, he sat and stretched the kink from his neck, noting that the circle of people around the fire was dwindling and there was much sighing and yawning.  It was no doubt after midnight and the fire was burning down to embers.  He rose stiffly as she took his hand and led him to their tent.  Armand fell into the welcome luxury of a cushioned pallet and a nest of blankets. Somehow he curled against Brigit’s back and dropped instantly into dreamless blissful sleep.

At dawn he awakened in Brigit’s arms. His cheek rested against her warm breast and the slow thump of her heart was strangely soothing as he lay there.  Bird song glistened upon the cool morning air and the smell of wood smoke blended with the mealy odor of cooking food. Smiling faintly, he reflected that he could not remember another moment of such simple contentment.  Afraid to let go of it, he remained still until he could not help himself any longer and had to kiss her, his love for her overflowing as he nuzzled her soft skin and drew her awake with a happy sigh.

They made love as they had not for many nights in the frigid mountains, the blankets gathered around them in a delightful cocoon of warmth as they surrendered to desire.  Unaware of anything other than their ardor, the sun rose and people gathered at the mess tent without them. No one troubled them until the sun neared zenith and urgency drove Ebony to stand outside their tent and call to them.

“I hate to interrupt, but you are needed.”

Brigit giggled as Armand lifted his head after a particularly intoxicating kiss. He rolled away from her, laughing when she wrestled playfully with his shoulder in an attempt to draw him back down.

“Save my place for me,” he whispered ruefully, dodging easily away from her seeking grasp.

“I suppose I should get up, too, then,” she muttered, launching to her feet and sitting on his chest of clothes with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes.

“I need to get dressed,” he protested, blushing for some odd reason when her eyes crept suggestively over his milky flesh.

“Clothes are a crime on that body,” she chuckled, “Although…”

He frowned as she reached around to where his traveling bag laid, the cramped tent making it possible to do so while remaining perched on the chest.  There was no way he would put dirty clothes back on after last night’s bath.  He turned an even deeper shade of crimson as she tossed his gold trimmed mask at him.

“You can wear that.”

“Vixen,” he muttered, refusing to pick it up and hoping Ebony was not standing outside listening to their exchange.

“Oh, alright, I’ll let you get dressed,” Brigit sighed with mock sadness, “I’ll go see if there’s any water and soap around for washing up.”

She tossed her shift over her head and shoulders before dashing outside.  It was only then he realized that he was famished.  He laid out a rugged leather jacket, a blouse, boots, and woolen hose and, when Brigit returned, he shared the large ewer of hot water with her for a quick morning wash.  Someone must have talked to her for she seemed grim as she rubbed herself dry and retrieved a set of leather armor and light chain mail from her battered chest.  It unnerved him when he realized she was preparing for battle.

“What is going on?”

“Ebony has already got a summoning circle marked out on the beach.  She’s a bit upset that we stayed in bed so long.  They’re worried about Pendaran and Zhou.  I feel bad for delaying them this long.”

“We needed a rest and I don’t remember anything about agreeing to that foolish summoning idea.”

Her blue eyes flashed with anger and he was taken aback.  He felt her fear, dark and heavy upon his mind.  As a warrior she had learned to channel fear into rage.  He knew she would not harm him and yet he stepped back instinctively.

“Sorry,” she said gruffly, hooking her blackened axe to her belt and picking up her dull shield, “I made a vow to protect Pendaran.  I have been remiss in my duties.”

He bit his lip, grateful she was not a mesmer for her comment had ignited an unreasonable fit of jealously.  He knew it was unwarranted, that Pendaran had no interest in Brigit and was faithful to Teleri.  He also knew Brigit loved Armand as she had no other and would do nothing to harm him.  He felt like a fool as he finished dressing and walked beside her into the sunny courtyard.  Mog turned to greet them as they neared the mess tent, a pair of steaming bowls of oat porridge in his hands.

“There ye’ be,” he rumbled, his face erupting into a cheeky grin as he passed them their breakfast, “Had yer mornin’ exercise, did ye?”

Brigit guffawed before hastily tipping her bowl back and wolfing it down.  Armand had somehow lost his voice and was burning with embarrassment.

“Did you have to announce it to the entire island?” he coughed once he regained his voice.

Mog roared with laughter and swatted him on the back.  One day, he would get even.

“They’re a’waitin’ fer ye down on t’shore.”

“Mog, is this really necessary?” he asked, alarmed that the decision had been made for him.  He had never said yes he would do it, only that it was possible the necromancer’s ridiculous idea had merit.  He was not about to let some addle-brained bloodsucker dangle him like bait to a demon.

“They’re countin’ on ye, lad.”

He swallowed, aware that Brigit was staring at him, her face pale with alarm.

“I need to think about it,” he protested, “I’ve had my fill of demons and they can rot as far as I’m concerned.”

“Pendaran and Zhou don’t have time for you to make up your mind,” Brigit said coldly, “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

“I hardly know them,” Armand replied, “Not well enough to risk my life and sanity. I want to talk it over with Ebony and decide if I want to go through with it her way or my way.”

“Your way?” Brigit gasped, “Armand, they are ready for us now.  Do you even know what you would do instead?”

“Talk to Threnody.  Shouldn’t be that hard.”

Infuriated, Brigit stormed off, her chain mail rustling metallically as she vanished through an open gate that led down toward the pier and the blue line of the sea.

“Honestly, what’s wrong with her?” he grumbled.  Mog stood there gazing upon him with his arms folded, his normally cheerful face grim.

“Yer a fool, Army.  Yer tellin’ the lass you don’t care naught abou’ her kin.  Might as well stab her in t’heart while yer about it.”

“Her family lives in Yak’s Bend, Mog.”

For the first time he saw something approaching disgust in his friend’s rough face.

“Ye been alone too long, Army, it’s made ye soft in t’head.  Two people she loves need yer help and ye done spat in her face with yer stubborn ways.”

“I don’t let necromancers have their way with me!” he shrieked at Mog, his rage and fear breaking his composure, “Not ever again.  Got that, you great big idiot?”

“Ah, so now we know what it’s about, lad,” Mog said quietly, unflappable as always in the face of Armand’s inchoate outbursts.  Mog was his oldest friend still living.  He had seen Armand at his worst and still somehow considered him a worthy companion.  Gods only knew why.  Flummoxed by Mog’s calm, his flash-point anger died, replaced with grief and fear.  Armand’s body betrayed him and he trembled like a leaf, a child once more, alone and frightened.

“I can’t do it, Mog.  Don’t ask me to.”

“C’mere,” Mog said, taking him by the shoulder and guiding him gently toward his tent.

“You can’t make me change my mind, I’m not doing it,” Armand protested despite the fact that he walked obediently beside the big man.  Mog said nothing until they were sequestered inside the dimness of the tent.  His enormous nest was laid out on one side amid several chests of personal items while a smaller nest occupied the other half.  He gestured at a chest and Armand sat, his anger regained and driving the fear from his body.

“First, ye were young an’ they was adults.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Armand snapped.

“Ye don’ have to, it’s leakin’ out yer mind.  Ye never told me ‘bout this.”

“Mind your business then!”

“Army, sometimes the past gets in th’ way.  Sometimes ye gotta do things cuz it’s t’right thing t’do, no matter how much it hurts ye.  Whatever happened t’ya in Kryta, those necromancers ain’t Ebony.  Ye need to trust yer friends, ye need to see that someone who’s willin’ to do what she’s doin’ means well.  Yer insultin’ her and yer drivin’ yer pretty lass away.  Don’t you care naught fer Brigit?”

“Of course I care.  I love her, Mog.  It’s like having a nail driven through my heart to think that she hates me now.”

“Pen and Zhou saved yer life, Army.  Prolly din’t think twice ‘bout it, neither.  That’s why the lass loves ‘em.  She’ll fergive ye if you go help now, but I guarantee if ye turn coward on her, she’ll dump ye like a jug o’bad whiskey.”

“I’m not a coward!” Armand shouted.

“Prove it,” Mog replied, folding his arms with an imperious look upon his roughhewn visage.

“Fine, I will!”

Armand felt sick to his stomach, his knees weak as he thought about what awaited him.  Rooted to the chest, he sat there brooding, annoyed with Mog and the two fools who had put themselves in harm’s way.  It was not his fault they had made stupid decisions.  And they had chosen to hunt demons and he was not going to have their stupid choice of profession foisted off on him.

“Army, lad, I’m only sayin’ this once n’then I’m done. Ye think abou’ yerself twenty years out. Ye wan’ t’live with the man who sat down in fear or the man who stood up for love?”

Mog stalked from the tent without another word.

“Damn you, Mog!” he whispered, his throat so tense with rage and grief he could not speak.

Goading himself with anger, he rose, wobbling for a moment, then stalking back into the yard.  There were people hard at work, laborers crawling up scaffolds and carrying hods of brick, ordinary folk attending to the myriad tasks of repairing the broken down fortress.  But there was no sign of his friends.  Sighing, he strode toward the open arch that gazed down over the sea.  Shoving aside his fears and memories of the imprisoning past, he moved down the steps, cursing under his breath with each step.

He saw more than a dozen gathered around the circle etched in the golden sand of the beach, most of whom he did not recognize. Mog had the decency not to gloat as he strode toward Ebony.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear over the susurration of the waves.  He nodded, saying nothing, his throat so stiff with anger and fear he was not sure anything would come out if he spoke.  Sensing his discomfort, Ebony gestured for him to sit at the center of the circle facing the sea.  He saw the others standing at the edges, weapons at the ready, faces set with determination.  He could sense their fear and was relieved that he was not alone in his misgivings.  Brigit would not look at him now, her face was turned seaward.

“The circle is for our protection,” Ebony said quietly, “We have not her true name and cannot bind her.  All that we know is that she is evil and subtle and drove Pendaran mad.  I would prefer that you let us bind you here in case she succeeds in tricking you into to following her out to sea.”

“I will not be bound,” Armand said fiercely, “I am not so easily maddened.”

Ebony frowned and he could sense her doubt.  Perhaps she was simply grateful he had agreed to participate, she did not push the issue and nodded, going behind him now to begin chanting.  The cold energies of Grenth’s realm flowed over him and a cry caught in his throat.  For an instant the sea turned black and the sky was filled with alien stars.  He closed his eyes and was relieved to find the world as he knew it before him once more.  Ebony had stopped.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked calmly, “If you need a calmative…”

“I’m fine!” Armand barked, “Just get on with it.”

He was not fine, however, his body was trembling as the remembered taint of necromantic magic crawled over him.  Brigit stripped off her chain mail hauberk and approached him in her leathers.

“Move forward a bit,” she said quietly.

He looked up at her, afraid he would find anger and reproach and instead saw a face so full of gentleness and compassion tears brimmed his eyes.  It was worse, he decided.  Anger he could deal with and understand, but her love for him was both balm and agony.  Seeing him overcome, she squeezed in between him and the altar, her legs stretched out on either side of him as she leaned back.  Kissing his nape, she wrapped her warms around his belly and whispered into his ear.

“True courage is facing that which you most fear.  I will hold you and if she tries to put her hooks into you, I’ll rip her to shreds before I let go of you.”

Her warmth against his back and the gentle press of her arms around his belly shored up his courage and her fierceness brought him calm.  He focused now, unafraid as the chill of Grenth’s domain crept into his consciousness.  The slow tolling of a bell rang with each slow beat of his heart.  He breathed slowly now, reaching for her, seeking her across the ether.

“Come, Threnody, speak to me.”

The world he knew faded, replaced with black sand and gray roiling seas.  Spars of jade thrust up through the water and storm clouds scudded across the starry sky.  He placed his hands over Brigit’s hands, reminding himself that his physical form was safe with her and he could damn well take care of his mental being.  He gazed out over the strange gray horizon, hearing the familiar tinkle of glass as the chiming knell rose once more.  The waves crawled up the beach, closer with each pale thrust upon the black sand.  Footprints emerged from the dampened sand and the departing tide swirled around something solid but invisible.

“Threnody,” he said, “Speak to me.”

“Ah, my love, I have done much evil.  I am too ashamed to show my face to you or any mortal.”

“What did you do to Pendaran?  Where is he?”

Her weeping rose above the sigh of the tide.

“I was corrupted, please forgive me.”

Armand felt the surge of her grief and regret, potent and dizzying as he mumbled a mantra to remain calm before its onslaught.

“What happened, Threnody?  Tell me.”

“I wished to be whole.  Do you understand what it is to be broken, my love?”

He watched the water swirl around the smooth holes in the sand where she presumably stood before him.  Her lament sighed upon the moist salty air.

“I have a fair idea.”

He waited until she grew quiet once more, her keening cries more piercing than the loneliest cry of a gull.  At last he saw her, pale and forlorn, her gown a tangle of seaweed and silk.  Her sea foam hair flowed in ragged tangles down around her hips like a ruined shawl.  She was young and beautiful despite the ravages of the sea and grief.

“Tell me, Threnody.  Perhaps you can be redeemed.”

She knelt before him, a penitent as the tide curled white around her knees and whispered accusations.

“I was named Aramathxes by Melandru, the Jade Sea was mine to protect.  When my waters turned to stone, its corrupted depths flowed through me.  I was trapped in that filth, watched helpless as my realm became the kingdom of Kanaxai.  When Ashekoroth came to free me from my prison, it was only upon the condition that I would meld with him, that my knowledge of Melandru’s arts should become his.  I refused, fearing what he might do with the renewing powers of the goddess.  He took me still trapped in the stone to his island and stole away a piece of me, removing all that was good and gentle and casting it into Torment.  He bound me to his mask, carving it from my flesh that my renewing powers would preserve him.  I was mad with grief and pain, trapped forever in agony.

“He already controlled you by the time I tried to influence your decisions.  I needed flesh in which to escape without his knowledge, a willing tool to bear me from that island until the mask was shattered and my ability to renew myself was restored.  Pendaran had not been bent to his will.  On the point of death, I saved him, used him as Ashekoroth had used me.  I lied to him and then plotted against his master, for I feared I would be dislodged by that man.  I aided the enemies of Master Bei and enabled an assassin to gain access to him.

“But I cared not.  My goal was to drive Pendaran mad, send him into Torment that I might go free.  I learned that his master had an old connection with Xenarach, an imprisoned demon lord.  I also knew that an old portal was concealed there, that if his prison were to fall, I could be reunited with the piece of me I had lost.  Of course, Bei originally imprisoned that creature there, sealed it with the darkest piece of his own soul.  He would never have approved of his own apprentice destroying what he had worked so hard to create.  But I also knew that when the prison fell, the portal would open and I could be made whole once more.”

Armand did not know what to make of her story.  His brow furled as he considered what Ebony would most want to know.

“Is he still trapped in Torment?”

“Xenarach took him away, back to his old domain.  He seeks the form of a mortal human being, as all demons do, that he might come freely onto this plane and corrupt others at will. His ambition was ever to rule Cantha, he believed himself the rightful emperor and all her people his subjects.”

“Do you know where Pendaran is?”

“Yes.”

“He lives?  Can we reach him?”

“He lives, but a portal must be made to that place. Mere survival is difficult, but battling those who dwell there is far worse.”

“How do we create the portal?”

“I know of a way now that I am whole, but I will not set foot in that place again.  If you seek to undo the evil I have caused, I will support you and perform the rite.  But not now.  I must rest.  I have traveled far to answer you.”

Armand hesitated, feeling the weight of her sadness departing as she strode back into the sea.

“How do I call you back to perform this rite?”

“You have my true name now.  I am yours to command.”

And with that she slid back into the water and vanished from sight.