Awakenings

I stare at Audric blankly, still unable to vocalize anything meaningful, my head still reeling.  Closing my eyes for what seems like an eternity, I try to clear my mind, to grasp and come to terms with the sheer enormity of my return from death, I struggle vainly to purge the echoes of Bonie’s final whispered words.

When I finally reopen my eyes, Audric is in a trance of his own, his mouth moving slowly as if in conversation, or perhaps communion with his own god.  After several long moments, Audric steps forward and embraces me, giving voice to what feels like a farewell.

Throughout the embrace, I find myself paralyzed.  Not a paralysis like that of the ghasts that slew us, but a complete paralysis of mind, body, emotion.  When Audric finally releases his hold, it takes all the strength I have not to collapse instantly.

Unable to return Audric’s embrace, indeed unable to even give voice to any meaningful words in reply to the warrior’s farewell, I simply stare, numb.

Obvious questions spring to mind.  Who is Audric speaking to?  Where does he think he’s going?  But these thoughts flee before I can even attempt to comprehend.

And then, after one final parting quip, Audric turns his back one last time and fades away, dissipating slowly.

Where the hell am I?

I am…alone.

The significance of that thought strikes me like a battering ram. 

Unable to bear the terrible consequences of the decisions I have made, I collapse.  I try to let loose a roar of anger, but it instead comes out as a wail of helplessness and remorse.  My grief is staggering and threatens to overwhelm.  Black spots appear behind my eyes as the pressure in my head grows to the point of danger, and I nearly swoon.  My eyes redden and swell as my tear ducts empty, my voice is ravaged by screams of torment, which eventually fade into soundless cries of self-pity.  I am broken.

I am…alone.  Not just Audric, my companion and brother in arms, but Nerrick and Lom, Vonn and Selben.  Bonie and…and…my unborn child.  Once again, grief threatens to overwhelm.

Malar has abandoned me, or I Malar—and no presence now fills that void.  No patron will arrive to carry me away like Mystra did Audric.  For me, there is no peace.

I draw my knife from a rotted sheath at my side, its blade pitted with rust, the edge dulled from age.  I entertain thoughts of a second death, of spilling my guts once again on this cavern floor.  There are no more tears, no more cries, as there is nothing else left to give.  All is lost.  My death is all that awaits.  I am too broken, too tired, too weak to complete the deed, to end my own life.  I fail at even that task, and collapse in fatigue.

Several hours pass before I awaken.  The glowing orb remains, casting a dim light in the cavern.  The knife is still in my hand.  I am still…alone.

It takes several minutes to shake the cloudiness from my head, and to suppress the emptiness that once again threatens to seize my soul.  In defiance of these thoughts, I try to give voice to words, but no sound escapes my ragged throat.

Malar, I forsake you.

I have wasted countless years in pursuit of blood to slake your endless thirst.  I have slain beast and men to appease your bloodlust.  And despite that, I was outcast.

I killed those you sent to hunt me, that bastard Korvich and the beast Carcerus, thinking it a test.  But I see now that it was fear that drove you.  Fear that I would expose your false virtues, fear that I would cause those to question before spilling blood needlessly.

You cannot abandon me, for I had already abandoned you.

I wince, expecting to be struck down for my blasphemy, expecting to be overtaken by emptiness and lack of purpose…but no lightning or plague manifests, and I find comfort in embracing the void where Malar’s anger and lust for the kill once lived.

I look down at the blade in my hand, ashamed of the thought of killing myself.  Ashamed of the thought of abandoning those I love, and those that love me in return.  Ashamed of giving in to weakness.

When I was cast out from the beast cults, my situation was no different.  I was allowed only this same knife so that I could defend myself…not against the wild, but to make of me a “fair kill” for those “brothers” who would seek to hunt me down.  They are all dead now, some of them by this very blade…but I persist.

“Nobanion.”  The word is foreign to my lips, nearly inaudible as it escapes my raspy throat.

I know very little of you, and I am best known by my actions.  One of your faithful, the druid Maglarosh, was slain by my former brethren, and I placed his frailness at your feet, castigating you for the virtues you extol.  Virtues that I thought pointless, frivolous, weak.

I was wrong.

It is these very virtues—community, compassion, dignity—that I have come to know and understand by my actions.  I was not alone in this realization—I had excellent exemplars, chief among them Audric, the steadfast warrior of Mystra.  Zargon, brave bard of Mirabar.  The many men and women of Carrock, of Dagger’s Deep.  The daring captain and crew of Moonmaiden.  Bonie, the love of my life.

Guide me to my loved ones, in this life or the next, and in exchange I grant you all that I am.  I will do all that you require, for as long as it takes.  My blade, my being, my soul are yours, Nobanion, Firemane.  Allow me to prove myself to you.

Slowly, I clamber to my feet, still alone…but coming to terms with that reality.

Audric.  You always bore as a burden the torment of others in addition to your own.  You were a great companion, and a greater friend.  I hope you have finally found peace, brother.

Leaving all else behind, I walk to the edge of the cave, peering down at the black water below and the ledge that I know to reside in the shadows above.  Gripping the knife between my teeth, tasting its iron, I swim to the far side of the cavern.  Reaching out in the darkness for handholds in the cavern wall, I begin my dangerous ascent, my awakening, my rebirth.

No, there is no eternal peace for me, Audric.  For there is yet work to be done.