Out of the corner of his eye, Kaerion saw Phathas raise his staff, ready to come to his aid. The mage stumbled forward, however, a look of surprise and pain upon his face, before he fell to the ground with a sword lodged in his back. Kaerion cried out as he saw Bredeth, a look of horror drawn across his noble features, bend down and pick up the sword that he had just plunged into the back of his own companion. Bloodied sword now raised in the air, the nobleman screamed once and brought his other hand to his head.
“Get out of my mind!” he shouted fiercely.
Kaerion couldn’t see any more as he thrust his shield up toblock two kicks that would have surely connected with his head. Concentrating, mostly unsuccessfully, on avoiding the blows that rained down upon him, it wasn’t until he heard another scream, this time coming from Majandra, that hespared a glance from his opponent.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
The bard stood transfixed by a black beam, a look of agony upon her face. Within moments, her body began to dissolve. Kaerion shouted once and then sprang into action, hoping to get past his red-robed opponent. A palm strike to his neck blasted all feeling from his body. Kaerion’s limbs would nolonger obey him. He was forced to watch in horror as the black beam consumed Majandra.
In moments, there was nothing left of her at all.
“No!” Kaerion screamed, a wave of despair washing over him. Ithad happened again. He had failed, and people who he cared about had died. The rest of his friends were dying even now, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Images flashed through his head: A dark hole, covered in shadow-the slime-covered wall of a dungeon. Darkness called out to him, wantedto wrap him in its arms. He could feel the pain easing as it drew near. He wanted to go to it-to lose himself in its endless embrace.
Another image appeared suddenly, this one of a red-haired woman whose nose had the tiniest dusting of freckles. She smiled.
And Kaerion knew with sudden clarity that there were things he didn’t want to forget. Ever. Majandra had taught him how to live again. Inthe shelter of her arms, he had relearned the power of forgiveness and trust. And he saw now that pain and grief could be gifts, their presence a reminder of exactly how precious are the things that we have lost.
No. He didn’t want to forget his pain at all.
Shaking his head, Kaerion ignored the voice. It’s dulcettones transforming into shrieks of fury at his actions. He tried to pull back from the hole and the darkness that flowed out of it like burnt molasses, but he couldn’t The comforting embrace became bands of iron that closed about his armsand chest.
He felt as if he were falling from a great height. Above him, he could see the image of Majandra, growing more and more distant. Helpless, still reeling from his loss, Kaerion uttered words he hadn’t spoken in over tenyears.
“Heironeous!” he shouted into the darkness. “Help me!”
His world exploded into light.
25
Vision, nightmare, or reality-Kaerion couldn’t decide. He saton a high-backed chair, its carefully carved frame forming a canopy over his head, and stared in wonder at the familiar interior of the temple. On both sides of him stood the comforting mass of statues, weapons raised high, while a long aisle stretched out before him, leading out toward what he knew to be the richly appointed narthex.
He was alone-or at least it appeared that there was no oneelse in the temple. The deep recesses of the chamber held pools of shadow, though these didn’t give off a sense of evil. Kaerion breathed deeply, feelingas if a great knot had been released within his chest. In fact, Kaerion realized with a start that he no longer felt the oppressive weight of Acererak’spresence.
But there was more to this feeling than merely an absence of evil. Separated for so long from his constant connection with Heironeous, it took him a few moments to recognize the power of his god. It was like that moment in Rel Mord when Vaxor banished the demon, except the presence was less concentrated and more pervasive. It was everywhere, flowing through each stone and marble block of the temple. The very air hummed with the strength of it, and Kaerion wondered how he could have missed such a Presence when he first arrived here- wherever “here” was.
“Ahh, I was wondering when you’d get around to noticing me,”a light voice said from somewhere behind him.
Kaerion whipped around, startled by the intrusion, only to find himself looming over a young boy. Piercing blue eyes gazed into his. Kaerion’s knees trembled as he recognized the familiar face. Standing before himwith a cherubic smile upon his face was the object of his nightmares these past ten years-the boy he had betrayed in the dungeons of Dorakaa.
“W-who are you?” he asked, surprised to hear his voice soundso firm. Nothing was making any sense.
The boy’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of purestinnocence. “Why, you called upon me,” he replied, closing the distance betweenthem.
Kaerion shook his head in disbelief. This wasn’t possible.“You… you can’t be him.”
“And who are you to tell me who I can and cannot be?” the boysaid harshly.
Kaerion could feel the hint of power beneath the child’streble, like the sense of a storm’s raging power moments before it unleashes itsfury. He would have cast down his eyes in shame, but the boy-god, really,Kaerion thought with wonder-stood right before him, not releasing his gaze.
“Where am I?” Kaerion asked, not wishing the moment ofsilence to stretch on further.
“You are where you need to be,” the boy said with maddeningvagueness.
“But my friends,” Kaerion replied, unwilling to abandon themeven now, “they need my help.”
The boy-god smiled “Loyalty is a noble trait,” he said. “Fearnot, for if you return to your companions, not a single moment of time will have passed.”
Kaerion nodded, a little unnerved by the boy’s use of theword
The boy said nothing, still gazing at him with those bright piercing eyes. “Why did you not call on me sooner?” the god asked, all trace oflevity gone from his face. Kaerion could hear sadness and a slight tinge of reproach in the child’s voice.
This time, Kaerion did hang his head in shame. “I betrayedyou-the child-in Dorakaa,” he explained. “I let fear for my life take precedenceover the protection of the weak and innocent.” Familiar emotions churned withinKaerion’s heart. This time, he did not retreat from them. “I failed you,” hesaid finally. “I was not worthy to call upon your name.”
“And you are now?” the boy asked in a chilling tone.
Kaerion had no response. Cautiously, he raised his head to meet the god’s gaze once more. To his surprise, the boy was smiling. “I want youto watch something, Kaerion-if you have the strength.” With a wave of his tinyhand, the air before Kaerion’s face shimmered, gradually resolving into animage.
It was the very heart of his nightmare. A young boy lay tied to an altar, while demonic figures cavorted around him. With a muffled curse, Kaerion realized that he could see himself in the image, emaciated and dirty, kneeling a few feet from the altar. He fought down a wave of nausea as he watched his kneeling figure decline the demons’ offer to exchange his life forthe boy’s. Tears were streaming down his face by the time the demons werefinished with their sacrifice.
