[Realms #496] Perspectives on Problem-Solving
Del allowed himself a glance over at the ship laden with trade goods and, as he well knew, the first adventure of a young boy's lifetime. That thought - his own desire to seek out that adventure despite what he knew - made anger flare within him.
"Why am I back here, then?" he demanded of his other, heat in his voice. "Can't you see I'm not the original me who made the decision you are so adamantly protecting? What's the sense in sending me back if I'm only to do exactly as I did before?" He threw up his hands, but his mind seized upon something his doppelganger has said moments before.
"As much as you would like things to turn out differently... What's that supposed to mean?" Del moved away from the barrel Vade had so quickly abandoned, putting himself in a better psotion should they come to blows. He watched his double register the move and allow it. For all his anger and frustration, Del could not help but be intrigued. And again, his eyes took in this different Del. His armor. His demeanor. Which path to the future was he from? He could see no evidence of his own shortcomings, and was suddenly consumed by the desire to ask how his mirror twin felt about snakes. Instead he demanded, "Tell me what you know. To whom have you sworn an oath?" His twin made a harrumphing sound and shook his head.
"Does it really matter? An oath has been sworn. That should be enough," the Not-Del shot back, shifting slightly to keep his eyes on his twin. Del sniffed and opened his mouth to retort when his twin added, "To the king, Del. I've sworn an oath to the king and Realms Council. Or what's left of it."
"Okay. Killing me and assuming my place on the Lunamer would be terribly difficult, wouldn't it?" Del probed, sounding more confident than he felt. "For how long could you keep up that charade, knowing what you know? How could you possibly remember enough to make the EXACT same decisions all over again?"
"I don't have to. And neither do you," his double answered. "Here and now are all that matter. These events have already happened before. If we don't change what happened here - at this flashpoint - then the rest will play out as it was meant to." He sighed and shook his head then. "Look. I don't understand it any better than you do really. I told them that I was the wrong one to send here, but Huzair said it had to be me. So here I am. Here we are."
A rush of adrenalin assailed his senses as Del's mind raced with possibilities. Somewhere, Huzair had instructed this Del to come back and make certain that some earlier version of himself boarded the Lunamer on this night. But that future hadn't been the one that he himself was from, since Huzair had been killed before he had even joined Morier's quest.
"If Huzair knows for certain that getting on board that ship will set things straight, then he must know it will cost him his life. And the lives of countless others." He allowed the words to settle and saw the realization of their meaning in his own eyes.
"I can save her," he whispered. "I can save her with just a pebble."
"You can't," came the reply. Emotionless. Certain.
"I know how she died. If I could..."
"You can't."
"I don't care what Huzair told you!" Del screamed at himself. "Huzair can't know for certain. No one can!"
And, with that, he attacked - the anger and frustration of the past surging through him, both exhilarated and terrified by the prospect of fighting himself. His other met the advance blow-for blow as the cacophony of metal split the still night air.
They pressed each other up and down the wharf, neither one being able to claim advantage. While he had expected to know his counterpart's fighting design, it became clear that different experiences had shaped the style and art for each . Del struggled to press an advantage, and his doppelganger did the same. They were both suffering when a familiar voice rang out, halting each man dead in his tracks.
"For the love of Flor, stop this nonsense!"
Del wanted to shake his head and clear his senses of what he thought he had just heard, but found that he could not move. The voice had come from behind him. He feared that by turning to look, the whole thing would melt away - nothing more than another dream, so like the others.
Instead he remained absolutely still and studied his twin, whose eyes were riveted to the space just beyond him. He witnessed emotion play across the Non-Del’s face, and the look was so raw he could feel it echo inside himself. His counterpart’s eyes flashed, as if in anger, and then softened. He made no move either, but his eyes tracked the newcomer.
“I was unsuccessful,” Del’s other spoke softly - half question, half statement of fact. It was answered by a soft chuckle.
“You are a very stubborn man,” was the response. His twin acknowledged this by lowering his sword. Del knew they would fight no more.
He felt a presence just behind him and held his breath. A hand rested on his shoulder for the space of a heartbeat, and then gently turned him around. Ledare smiled up at him in the darkness.
“Don’t be troubled, Del,” She said and though he could not be sure for whom she spoke, it didn’t really matter. He drank in every detail of her: her robe, the holy symbol around her neck, the lack of a sword at her waist, her hair longer than he remembered. Her sober eyes caught the moonlight. This was at once not the Ledare he knew and exactly her.
“Please, Del,” she whispered, and this time her words were for him alone. “You are meant to board that ship. It is the only way.”
“Do you know what that will mean?” he struggled, barely managing to get the words out.
“I know what that will mean in this lifetime,” she answered firmly, giving him nothing.
“I…” He faltered, looking for the right words. “I should never have left…” But she held up a hand to stop him.
“Time will set things right. You must be true to what was in your heart on this day.” She gestured around them in the night.
“What about what is in my heart today?” he demanded, still arguing.
“It will resolve… in time.” Her eyes flickered to the Del standing behind him now, and for a moment he felt a pang of jealousy. They exchanged a look that he could not decipher, but he felt resentment for this other Del. After a moment, Ledare once more directed her attention toward him and stepped closer. She reached up to touch him lightly on the face.
“This cause is bigger than one life. Or two. We cannot fail. Please..."
Del reached out to grab her and he heard a grunt from his double behind him followed by a startlingly sharp stab of pain as his twin's longsword stabbed through his torso. The slick, red point erupted from his gut just below his ribs and he stared dumbly at it for a moment before looking up questioningly at Ledare. He saw that her face was screwed up in horror as his blood sprayed her white robe and spattered her face.
"No!" she said. "Del. This didn't have to be!" Del saw that she was looking not at him, but at his double. He felt a hand on his back and the blade slid free with another excruciating stab. He heard his battle axe thunk down on the dock and then a rushing sound began to fill his ears.
His twin was speaking, but the voice - his voice - seemed to be coming from a long way off and he could barely hear it over the building hiss that was filling the world. He felt cold. The night was darkening and tilting drunkenly. It was only with a titanic effort that he was able to stagger around, his hands pressed uselessly at the red torrent on his belly.
There he was with his sword still clutched bloody in his fist. He was talking with Ledare - seemed to be pleading with her - seemed to be...
He stumbled forward into himself, his sudden limp weight overbalancing his murdering double and sending them both tumbling backward over the side and into the cold water of the bay. The shock of the water momentarily revived him and he saw the Not-Del drawn like an anchor to the bottom by the weight of his heavy plate armor. The darkness drew in again and before it overtook him Del had a moment's satisfaction at knowing that if he couldn't have her then at least his murderer wouldn't either.
Ledare looked down at the dark water as the delicate forces that held that tiny bubble of reality apart from the rest failed, ruptured by the deaths of the two Dels. A moment later, the entire thing collapsed, catching her spirit like a fish in a net before spitting her, gasping and sputtering onto the Astral Plane.
The time of Maleko's rescue was approaching. Things had happened almost identically as things had before, despite his attempt to change things. Maleko had made a mistake again and was forced to relive the most intense pains he could imagine feeling. His wife's death had been almost a relief by the end for her suffering had ended at last. But the suffering for Glaltariand's family had just began. And it was as a result of Maleko's action.
"Declan, my men are hungry. Let them eat," Maleko said, as he recalled saying the first time he'd lived through this horrible situation. "You are going to get your money; starving them will do you no good." As he had done before, the bandit leader bent over to grab a piece of meat and headed for the fire to begin his taunt. And as if on cue the whipping noise of an arrow punctuated by a scream came at once followed by the sounds of armored men crashing through the bushes. Declan was holding his imapaled forearm as he was tackled unceremoniously to the ground.
Maleko was surprised to see the familiar face of Delaroux Haladar emerge from the fray. With efficiency the janissary passed off his groaning prisoner to one of a number of legionnaires who had their small camp surrounded. Maleko couldn't help but notice Del's demeanor: confident, responsible, a perfect model of the king's guard. How he had changed in three short years.
"Maleko Maltalia?" Del asked in an urgent tone and Maleko nodded. "Sir, we have been instructed by your father to take you immediately to safety." Maleko tried to remember what he had said before, but drew a blank.
Instinctively he replied. "Not until I see all my men are accounted for. I am sure I am very safe being surrounded by many of the finest soldiers in the Realms. I appreciate you and your men's bravery." Nodding Del took out his knife and freed Maleko's hands quickly then gave him the knife to cut the rope that tied his legs.
Once he was free Maleko had the chance to do what he had hoped: to kill the man who murdered his steward. It would be easy, two guards were holding him tying his hands. He walked over casually with the knife in his hand in an unthreatening manner, hoping to suprise the guards and stab the fiend. Then Maleko froze in his tracks. He saw a female Janissary report to the commanding officer.
"Sixteen brigands and 5 prisoners accounted for, sir," she said and Maleko recall then that two more of his men had died from their wounds in captivity. This enraged him further as he thought that perhaps they had been beaten to death for the bandit's entertainment. His hand tightened on the knife hidden in his hand and he might have carried out his plan then and there had he not been distracted by Ledare. She had been barely an acquaintance before, but the artwork he had seen at K'ree's shop back on Discord had burned the image of the half-elven soldier into his head.
Of course, she was wearing a good deal more now that she had been in that drawing.
Morier had mentioned Ledare's passion for duty and honor on more than one occasion and Maleko believed that he could see it in her manner even now. It made him think. Would killing this bandit honor anyone? Would it ease Maleko's pain? Or Glaltariand's family's? His steward would still be dead. As Maleko recalled, the captured brigand's had provided a great deal of information about the criminal operation near Hillsburg before being hanged on the gallows in Barnacus. Killing Glaltariand's killer would only hurt the greater cause. And moreover, Maleko did not even want to see the man again nor give him the pleasure of seeing Maleko's grief, which he was quite certain he wasn't hiding very well. Avoiding the temptation to kill, he decided, was the best route. To keep focused on thoughts other than revenge, he decided to approach the commanding officer, it was what a leader of men would do, after all.
"Maleko Maltalia, sir," he said extending his hand. "Our company owes you a huge debt for your bravery and service. You have demonstrated once again why the Janissary Guild of Barnacus is the pride of the Realms." The captain said something in reply, but off to the side Maleko noticed Del speaking with Ledare.
"Your aim was perfect! Are you alright?" Del asked referring to a trickle of blood on her cheek.
"Damn thorns. Why did I pick to hide behind the thorny bush?" she laughed. They smiled at each other and Maleko felt suddenly intrusive. He glanced around to see if their affection for each other was as obvious as he felt it to be. But the other soldiers were either unaware or conveniently engaged with the business of securing the camp.
The Captain of the Janissary was still replying to Maleko's comments even though the elf was barely listening. "It is good merchants like you that allow Barnacus to thrive," the man was saying. "It is our duty to protect you and your goods."
What did he say next?
"The way Officer Haladar rushed in to save me from this brigand was commendable. If more men like him were serving on the Borderlands, those issued would be solved in no time, I'm sure," Maleko said in an off-hand way. But he saw a light go on in the Captain's head. Maleko had intended only to compliment Del, but nearly choked on his own words as soon as they had been uttered. Had this comment been responsible for Del's assignment to the Borderlands? That had been the mission, he knew, which had separated Del and Ledare for good; Del had told him as much once, late at night after too much Firewine. Was it possible that he was the one responsible for keeping them apart? Maleko would never know.
He had not intended to change what had happened for he feared the affects such changes would have. Ledare for example, might have never joined Grey House and started this entire journey. How would that change things? The possibilities seemed very unclear. The effects on the world that even minor changes to the past could have, truly boggled his mind. He felt... he felt... faint...
"Guildsman Maltalia!" the Captain shouted, shooting out a hand to grab the elf's arm and steady him. Maleko staggered a bit on his feet and blinked up into the Janissary's eyes.
"I'm okay," he said forcing a smile. "Just a little light-headed." The Janissary nodded, obviously unconvinced.
"Janissary Ledare," the captain said, motioning sharply. "Take Guildsman Maltalia into that tent and have him rest while we finish securing the camp."
"Yes, sir!" she replied and hurried to help Maleko into the tent. She poked her head inside to make sure it was clear and then held the flap open for Maleko to enter. "There's a cot to the left," she told him. "You can lie down. I'll stand guard just outside." He felt a little silly. Had this part happened last time? He didn't remember it, but he didn't get the opportunity to wonder as, passing through the tent door, he stepped out into the Astral plane.
Ledare took a step forward and she saw Morier's double track her movements from the corner of his eye. "Look. Feln and I were prepared to leave here in an effort to have the future play out as it has so far. You might find it easier to convince us than to kill us. Tell us what you know." The doppelganger smiled a genuine smile filled more with sadness than mirth.
"Ever the diplomat, Ledare. I've missed that," he mused. "I tried to fill that role after the Heart... but ultimately, I'm better at destroying my problems than I am at talking them away."
"You're talking now," she observed and the Not-Morier's smile broadened.
"What can I say? You're good," he grinned. "And if you and Feln want to leave the Grove, then be my guest. Take him with you if you can manage it. That would solve everything nicely." He angled his head at Morier.
"I've got to stay and complete the tests," the real Morier said and his double laughed.
"I knew you were going to say that," the double told him. "It's funny really, Ledare had half-convinced me that this might end without me having to kill more of my friends. I should have known better."
He turned and looked sadly at Ledare. "See what I mean?" he asked. "I'm not much of a negotiator." And then, in one fluid motion, he drew Ravager from its sheath and charged straight at Morier, the weapon held over his shoulder in a two-handed grip.
The attack was swift and savage, but Morier anticipated it with uncanny prescience. He stepped back and to the left and the jagged blade slashed down on empty air, clanging violently off the bare rock where he'd been standing. As his double struggled to recover, Morier was already pivoting on his left foot, his mercurial greatsword a silver blur in his hands. The blade came around in a vicious arc that crackled with lightning.
It was aimed to take off the double's head, but Not-Morier simply ducked beneath the swing and reached up with his left hand, touching the real Morier on the chest and releasing a Shocking Grasp spell into his body. The spell bypassed Morier's Spell Resistance like it wasn't even there and sent lightning coursing through his body.
The double tried to capitalize on the momentary distraction by delivering a follow-up blow with Ravager, but the bastard sword glanced harmlessly off Morier's mailed shoulder.
Morier Battlecast a Bull's Strength spell and his muscles swelled with temporary might. The greatsword came around again in a deadly arc, but this time Morier aimed low, trying to take out his opponent's legs. His twin leapt up and over the blade, easily avoiding the blow, before landing hard and driving upward with Ravager in an attack of his own. Morier caught the saw-toothed blade on the fuller of his greatsword and the electrical attack channeled into the stroke dissipated uselessly, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
The twin combatants pressed each other mercilessly, their style and skill so evenly matched that neither seemed capable of besting the other. For Ledare, the fight was made even more surreal by the fact that the duplicate Morier wielded Ravager - her Ravager! Left to her by Draelond's untimely death and, she thought, waiting with Karak and the rest of her gear at the portal to the first test.
Morier took two steps back and drew on the power of the Heart to Call Lightning from the dark sky. He raised his hand and clouds coalesced from the ether drawing into a knot that glowed and sparked before spewing forth a bolt of electricity. Morier's double saw it coming and tried to dodge, but the strike was too fast and it struck him solidly, bypassing his spell resistance and shocking him to the core.
Rather than dropping, however, he let his momentum draw him forward, reached out a hand and hit his twin with another Shocking Grasp spell. This time, however, the magic slid harmlessly off Morier's Spell Resistance and the disappointment and surprise filled the Not-Morier's face. He swung Ravager half-heartdly as he stepped back, sneering at his opponent.
"You've got the Heart, don't you?" he asked and after weighing the value of lying to himself, Morier nodded once. Conflicting emotions swam momentarily across Not-Morier's face then he clamped shut like a steel trap and cold calm showed in his strange stormy eyes.. "Huzair had it where I come from. I had to kill him too."
"What?!" Morier cried, incredulous. Was this truly himself as he might have been? Was it within him to kill his friend? He thought for a moment of Colonel Sealus and Called another Lightning Bolt. His doppelganger managed to avoid the worst of this attack, however, and seemed little injured by the electricity, certainly not as much as he ought to have been. He grinned up at Morier sardonically.
"He was corrupted by the Heart," his dark reflection told him, swinging Ravager around in an overhand chop that Morier barely had time to parry. "Surely you've felt the call of its power, Morier? Felt the need to protect it even over the lives of your friends?"
"No!" Morier shouted back. He Battlecast a True Strike spell and brought his mercurial greatsword around in a tremendous blow that would have taken off a lesser opponent's head and fried the corpse into a cinder. Morier's simulacrum deflected the killing blow with his vambrace and shrugged off the dreadful effects of the Second Circle spell he'd used to fuel his Elemental Blade attack.
And it was his last Second Circle spell.
"You will," Morier's double replied cooly. He was staggering slightly now and Morier saw that, despite his pretense to the contrary, he was near to collapse. "I saw what you did here, already... changing the weather so your friends could pass the Test. Despite the fact that you know that goes against the entire point of the Tests!" He lurched forward with Ravager in a two-handed grip and tried to bring the blade up under Morier's defenses, but the eldritch warrior blocked the attack and Called another Lightning Bolt.
His double had more than enough life in him to avoid a direct hit and this time his own Spell Resistance dissipated the glancing strike without injury.
"You're on the path, Morier," Not-Morier said. "No mortal can wield that kind of power without succumbing. Especially not you! I know what's in your heart!" Morier's double gestured with his hand and a Fog Cloud began to rise in the area. But before it could obscure him from view, Morier Battlecast his last True Strike spell and lunged forward, cleaving his double's left leg from his torso. Not-Morier screamed and teetered backward while his leg fell to the side. It wasn't blood that spewed from the gruesome wound, it was darkness, and that darkness soon filled Morier's vision entirely, blotting out not just sight, but sound as well, filling him with emptiness.
He opened his eyes onto the silvery void of the Astral Plane. He saw that others were there as well: Maleko was to his left and beyond that was another - Ixin perhaps. But his vision was dominated by the enormous figure that hung before him in the void. It was easily the size of a hill giant, but with flesh of total blackness, like polished obsidian. It was bedecked in finery of gold and platinum and regarded him with inscrutable serenity. An aura of power and unfathomable age surrounded it, making Morier want to hide from its presence.
Then it raised an arm very slowly and deliberately, pointing off into the distance at an oblique angle, and while he couldn't see anything in that direction, he somehow knew that it was pointing to the God Isles.