CHAPTER VIII
HER SISTER'S KEEPER
Merri opened her eyes, finding herself once more a child at
a party. 'This gets old fast', Merri thought, but she didn't see
what she could do but go with it. Once again she felt compelled
to find her sister, and again she found her in a circle of
guests. This time, however, Alysia noticed her first.
"Welcome, sister!" The girl laughed, her voice far too deep
for her youth and gender, "I have been waiting for you. Why
don't you come and dance with us?" Merri felt herself drawn
irresistably forward into the circle. The movements of her
sister's hands seemed to move her like a puppeteer, and she found
herself dancing with the mice.
Merri shook her head and found the strength to pull away.
"What's the matter, sister, don't you like dancing? Perhaps
you just don't have the right partner!" With that, the scene
shifted, becoming as before a battlefield. "There, that's the
only partner you care to dance with!" Alys mocked, as Merri
realized her sword was drawn. "No one else would get near you!
Now dance!" Monsters of all sorts rushed forward, and Merri
found herself once again drawn against her will. Her arms moved
as if from ingrained memory, blocking, turning, thrusting,
retreating. "That's right, sister, dance for me. It's all you
know to do, isn't it?"
"Stop this!" Merri yelled, "I am not yours to control!" Her
sister laughed in answer.
"Of course you are! I've controlled your life from the day
you were born. Everything you have done you have done because of
me, to try and prove yourself my equal."
"That ends now!" Merri exclaimed, turning away from the army
of beasts before her to face her sister. "I swear it, you have
no power over me!" Alys laughed.
"What are you going to do, kill me?" Alys drew her own
sword. "Do you think you can? You've never beaten me at
anything!"
"You know that isn't true. The only thing I can't beat you
at is magic, and you gave that up when we were children!"
"Never on the first try, sister! And one try is all you'll
get at this!"
"Then one try is all I'll need." Merri lunged to attack,
but found herself moving slowly, as though through water. Alys
grinned, and raised her sword to deliver the killing blow.
Merri jerked awake, just as the sword would have cleaved her
skull. She sat in bed, her breath heaving, waiting for her heart
to slow back to normal. Merri couldn't recall the last time
she'd had such a nightmare. She climbed out of bed, realizing
that she was still in her armor. She opened the dresser drawer,
and found that her belongings had been brought to the inn as
well. She unbuckled her armor and changed into more comfortable
leathers. After looking herself over in the mirror to make
certain she looked presentable, she headed downstairs, where she
ran into the innkeeper, and old friend of her father. She
offered to pay for her room, having found her purse mysteriously
returned to her along with the rest of her belongings, and Moorth
as usual refused to hear of it.
"What are you trying to do to me, make me a laughing stock?
Imagine, charging rent to a Paladin, and the daughter of my
closest friend, at that!"
"How did you know Shani chose me to be a Paladin?"
"The priests told me when they brought your stuff in last
night. I told them you weren't staying here and they said that
the Paladin Lady Merrideth Doomslayer would be arriving within
the hour."
"And that didn't surprise you?"
"Celisia," Moorth, said, using her childhood nickname, an
elven word meaning "little star", "I know your father. Nothing
about a Doomslayer would surprise me." Merri aknowledged that
her family did have a habit of getting into strange situations.
"Strange? Let me tell you about the time he..." Merri looked
for a polite way out, but when the serving boy set a plate loaded
with her favorites down in front of her, she realized she was
trapped. She settled in and listened to Moorth reminisce about
his fighting days with her father. When he was done, she had to
fill him in on every little detail of her family's well being.
She told him that her mother was doing well, but she avoided
mentioning of Alysia's plight, or her own involvement. He asked how
she came to be a Paladin, and she gave an abbreviated description
of the events of the previous night. Moorth shook his head. "You
two girls get yourselves into the worst fixes. Looks like you
inherited your father's uncanny knack for getting into trouble."
Merri smiled.
"Well, I guess you can't fight heredity, huh?" Moorth
grunted.
"I'd hoped your mother might have knocked some sense into
you somewhere along the line, but I should have know better. So,
what are you going to do now?" Merri shrugged.
"I'm not really sure. I'm supposed to call upon the goddess
tommorow at Bradhaven Temple."
"Well, until then, why don't you go to Market Street? Maybe
get yourself a decent dress instead of those awful leathers you
insist on wearing. I mean, as tight as that stuff is, you might
as well be wearing nothing, it's just not decent."
"Me, in a dress? You've got to be kidding, I wouldn't be
able to take more than three steps before I tripped on my own
hem. But I think I will go to Market Street. I need a new
sword, and I hear there's a good smith in that area." Moorth
shook his head in mock-exasperation, but left it at that.
Merri returned from her shopping many hours later. The
smith on Market Street hadn't had what she was looking for, so
she'd been forced to look elsewhere. It had been worth it,
though. Back in her room she pulled out the sword and its
ornamental scabard. It hadn't been cheap, but she knew she'd
gotten her money's worth as she marveled at the sharpness of its
edge, the craftsmanship of its hilt. She ran her hand along the
blade, almost caressing it. She thought of what her sister had
said in her dream, and realized what she was doing. She hastily
stopped, and resheathed the sword, putting it with her armor.
All of her running around and haggling and sword-testing had made
her weary, and she climbed into bed, putting thoughts of her
nightmares deliberately out of mind.
She opened her eyes, and found herself to be standing in a
cavern. The chamber's only illumination was a circular shaft of
sunlight, streaming down from a hole in the ceiling. The shaft
of light illuminated an odd pattern carved in the floor, a
sextagram inscribed in a circle, with a strange looping figure in
the center. At one end of the figure lay an ebony-black dagger,
and at the other was a strangely glowing medallion. As she took
all this in, she noticed her sister standing on the far side of
the shaft.
"Sister, I'm glad you are here. I need you to take the
dagger from the pattern."
"Why don't you just take it yourself?"
"I am trapped here, on the wrong side of the light. I can't
reach the dagger." Merri still hesitated. Seeing this, her
sister became infuriated. "I said take the dagger, blast it!"
Alysia's face began to contort in ways that no human face should
ever move. "Now!"
Merri once again found herself acting against her own will,
moving forward and reaching down. At the last moment, just as
her fingers brushed against the dagger, she fought off her
sister's control, and, on impulse, snatched up the medallion
instead.
As her hand closed around the medallion, the cavern shook as
though in the midst of a massive earthquake. Merri screamed in
agony and collapsed as a searing pain engulfed her hand. The
burning gradually diminished, until all that remained was a
tingling. When she finally managed to unclench her hand, she
found the medallion gone. In its place, the pattern from the
floor was branded into her palm.
"Blast it, that hurt!" She shouted, rising. When she looked
up, she gasped in shock. Her sister had once again been replaced
by a skull-headed deamon.
"I will return for you later, mortal!" It promised, though
it seemed to flinch back from her. Merri stepped forward, and
the tingling in her hand became a warmth, almost pleasant. "This
isn't over!" The deamon cried. Merri ran forward to fight the
creature, but even as she did so, the world around her dissolved.
Merri woke the next morning with a feeling of groginess and
disorientation. Shaking it off, she got herself dressed in her
armor, and prepared to go to Bradhaven Temple. She wanted
answers, and she was tired of waiting. As she was pulling on her
boots, she happened to glance at her hand, and she gave vent to a
most un-Paladinlike expression.
The lines and creases of her hand, the ones that some
claimed fortold a person's fate, were gone. In their place was a
perfectly formed pattern of scars, a bright, fresh pink. Merri
had planned on playing along with being a Paladin until she could
find another way to get her sister, and then dropping the act.
This, though... this looked very, very permanent.
"All right, then," Merri said aloud to herself, "Looks like
it's time to go get some answers." Moorth provided her with
breakfast, and a ride to the Temple. Merri was so preoccupied
that she didn't even argue when he paid for it all.
"Marse?"
"Yes, Brother Couthon?"
"Would you acompany me to the grove? I'm expecting
visitors, and I would like you there to help me greet them."
Marse looked puzzled, but agreed. The intervening weeks had done
wonders for the cleric, and he no longer looked like he was
attending his own funeral. He followed Couthon to the Grove, and
waited patiently with his superior.
He was startled as one of his elder brethren came running
full tilt into the grove, pursued by a woman clad in armor, her
cloak flowing out behind her as she ran. He started to move to
intercept the woman, but Brother Couthon's hand on his shoulder
restrained him.
"Come back here! What do you know about this mark?" The
woman yelled, as the grey robed priest crashed into an unnoticed
tree. The woman leaned over the prostrate cleric, and Marse
noticed that her hand was glowing with a fierce blue light, as
though she was holding some enchanted or holy object. As she
brought her hand closer, the glow increased.
"Please, keep it away!" The cleric shrilled, writing in
obvious discomfort, "I'll confess, just take it away!" The woman
drew back, looking about as shocked as Marse felt.
"What's this about confession?" Brother Couthon asked, "What
have you done?" The priest shifted his gaze between Couthon and
the woman, his eyes rolling whites like a frightened mare.
"I spoke with deamons," He admitted, "But I swear, on my
life, I've changed my ways!"
"And what did these deamons want of you?" Couthon demanded.
"They wanted information." Couthon shook his head.
"You are lying. They have no need of information from you."
He looked to Merri, who understood and brought her hand back near
the cleric, who seemed to experience pain from its proximity.
"Alright!" Merri withdrew her hand, "They wanted me to desecrate
the Year's-End rituals!"
"How?"
"Rat's blood, in the wine, but I swear, I wasn't going to do it!"
"Again, you are lying." This was said in a soft voice, which
originated behind the tree. A white doe came into view. "They
offered you wealth and power, and you eagerly agreed. You do not
deserve to serve me. Leave!" Under the combined discomfort of the
woman's glowing hand and the goddess's countenence, the cleric fled
from the grove at the same pace that he entered it. The doe dipped
her head toward Brother Couthon. "You may leave us, my son." Couthon
bowed, and took his leave. "Marse, my child, it is good to see you
well." Marse bowed before his goddess, deeply humbled. Merri was
somewhat less impressed.
"What have you done to me?" Merri demanded, raising her hand
and displaying her scars, "What does this mean?" There was a
startled intake of air from Marse, and he hurried to bow before
her as well.
"My Lady, that is the mark of the Champion. It is an honor
to meet you." Merri looked to the doe for confirmation.
"It is true, Merrideth. That pattern of scars marks you as
the Champion, and gives you the power to approach the Altar."
"I already said I would be you Paladin, you didn't have to
brand me like some kind of cow!" The doe's ears twitched.
"Why do you make accusations to me, Merrideth?" She replied
mildly, "Was it truly I who enticed you to take the talisman?"
"Well, no, but..." Merri couldn't find an adequate
argument. "Fine then, forget it. Now, why did you call me here?"
"To set you on your way, of course. Marse will be your
first companion on your journey." Merri sighed, preferring to
work alone, but knowing she had little choice. Everything
seemed to have been determined in advance with no regard for her
wishes.
"A cleric could be handy to have along." She conceeded,
"Especially since I don't know the first thing about healing."
Marse's face seemed to flush slightly. "What's wrong?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that. It is a long story, but I
cannot call upon the power anymore." Merri shrugged.
"Well, at least I'll have someone to gaurd my back in a
fight." Merri said, trying to put a good spin on things. Marse
seemed suddenly interested in his shoes.
"I've never been in a fight, or had any kind of combat
training."
"Well, at least a field cleric like yourself must have some
interesting stories to tell, right?" Merri said, still trying to
be optimistic, "You'll be good company." The cleric blushed,
embarrassed to admit the truth.
"Actually, I've never been outside the city, and I rarely
leave the temple. The only stories I could tell you would bore
you to sleep."
Merri glared at the goddess. "You're doing this to me on
purpose, aren't you? It's penance, isn't it?"
"Nonsense, child, Marse is wise beyond his years, and he
will be vital to your quest. His inexperience will not be a
problem for long, I assure you." Merri sighed in resignation.
"All right, I'll take him. Now, where are we going?"
"To retake the Altar, you must first find the Six Stones of
the elements. Once you have those, you can restore balance to
the Realms."
"All right, where do we start?"
"The first Stone you must acquire is the Stone of Light,
which may be found somewhere in the abandoned dwarven warrens
that are called Muertvaya Shiva, on the jungle island of Orga.
The only advice I may give you is to seek the help of the tribal
elves."
"But how.."
"My time here is finished." The goddess interupted, "Good
luck to you both!" With that, the doe faded out of view.
"Wonderful." Merri groused, "Just wonderful!"
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