The Edge of Chaos (31 page)

“Duvan,” she said, gritting her teeth from the pain incurred by just speaking. “I need your help to die.”

“No,” he said. “No. No.” His head was shaking. “Kaylinn is sure to be here soon, right? Or another cleric? You just have to hang on.”

He still doesn’t understand, she thought. But she would try to make him. “But it is my time,” she said. “Kelemvor is calling me to him.”

Fear made Duvan’s eyes grow wide as shook his head. Poor, dear friend, Slanya thought.

“I achieved greatness,” Slanya whispered. “We achieved it together, and for that I am proud.” A pulse of agony caused her to spasm and arch her back.

Blink.

Aunt Ewesia’s snores resonated through the room, and Slanya knew it was safe now. Drunk and unconscious, Aunt would be out until morning. Hatred rose up inside Slanya, and despair. Why did she end up with this woman who didn’t want her? She couldn’t run away; everyone in the small town knew her and would return her to Aunt.

Little Slanya was practical enough to know that she’d never make it far enough away, and that the punishment for trying to escape would be severe. No, that wouldn’t work. She must destroy her life. She might die trying, but she might escape. She might be reborn.

Verv deliberately, little Slanva scooted the urate ant tram

its place in front of the fire. Moving quietly, she leaned the grate up against the wall. Then she dragged the basket of laundry to a spot just in front of the fire, setting it way too close.

It took far longer than it should have, but little Slanya was patient. Crouching in the shadows by the door, she watched with detachment and pragmatic calculation as the fire finally jumped into the laundry. She stayed at her vigil, breathing through laced fingers, until the room had ignited and Aunt was on fire too. She felt nothing inside at the sight.

Blink.

“Slanya?” Duvan said, wiping at his eyes with an angry, hurried motion.

She couldn’t feel her legs how. “My time has come,” she said flatly. “I can never be put back together. I will die here tonight, but how I die is important.”

Through blurred vision, she watched the devastating realization of her seriousness wreak havoc across Duvan’s face. Underneath the rough, prickly surface, he was a sweet, generous man who kept his word and would do anything for his friends. He had been so very badly mistreated for much of his life; he didn’t deserve more pain.

She loved Duvan, she had come to realize, and hated to hurt him. But she needed him to do this one last difficult thing for her.

“I… don’t know if I can,” Duvan’s voice broke. “It may be selfish, but I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay too,” Slanya said. “But that is not among the choices I now have. I can die slowly in a great deal of pain and anguish. Or—” She gurgled fluid in her throat, struggling to breathe. She spat up bloody phlegm.

Tears streamed down Duvan’s dark face now, turning red in the dim light as they mingled with his bloody skin.

“Please do this, Duvan,” she said, coughing. “You are a true friend. I know this is hard for you, but I’m imploring

you. I have already lived a meaningful life.”

“That’s more than I can say,” Duvan said. “I’ve cheated death so many times without even knowing or caring about life.”

Duvan’s black eyes hardened above her, his face set in stone as he accepted what she said. “I can take…” His voice wavered. “Take the pain away,” he said. “And you will pass quickly.”

“Do it,” Slanya begged. “Now.”

Moments passed, and she hardly noticed Duvan moving. His arms still held her to his own broken and battered body. She could not think of anywhere else she’d rather die. Slanya barely felt the dagger prick in her shoulder. But the numbing poison spread its paralytic quickly. Anesthetic chased the pain like water chasing away thirst, rapidly washing over her body and cleansing it. Calming her.

“Thank you, my good friend,” she whispered with her last words.

Duvan’s voice was soft and punctuated by sobs. “Good night, friend,” came his words from far, far way. Blink.

Standing naked again on the featureless, gray plane, Slanya stood encircled by the halo of fire. The deep, resonating rumble of voices murmuring in the distance felt reassuring and comforting.

Slanya forgave herself for setting the fire that had killed Aunt Ewesia. She forgave herself for wanting her aunt dead, for knowing that her aunt would probably die. It had been her only way out of an abusive and horrifying childhood, her only way to take control in a situation where she had no power.

Come to me, child. Kelemvor’s voice resonated through her entire soul. And I will calculate the balance of your spirit and set you on your next path.

Slanya found that she could move now. She stepped out

of the center of the halo of flames and felt the infernal heat purge her as she walked into the fire. Flames consumed her, but they did not hurt.

And as she passed through, she was cleansed. Her material burdens were lifted from her. This is what she wanted, to be erased and purged, reinvented and incarnated anew.

Slanya found peace.

****** ******

Sitting on the hard ground with Slanya’s perforated and leaking body slumped in his lap, Duvan stared at the tip of his dagger as he pulled it slowly out of her shoulder. He had killed her to take away her pain. She’d asked him to, and she had been of sound mind. What he had done was a good thing, right?

Knowing all of that didn’t make him feel any better. A deep aching pain filled his chest, making it hard to breathe.

His dagger was still in his hand, its blade glimmering oily green from the sheen of paralytic poison that coated it—the very same blade that he’d used to hasten Slanya’s journey to her death.

Duvan’s blade held plenty more poison to speed him along with Slanya. It would be so fast, so easy. Just a momentary jab and in moments he’d be dead too. No muss, no fuss. Painless and quick.

But she was already gone, he knew. She’d left him and passed to whatever lay beyond. He could die, but he could not follow. Kelemvor would not send him to where she had gone.

Duvan set his blade down. If he could not follow, then he would live. At least for today. For this moment in time, he would live.

Around him, the night was in pandemonium. Dead and

Avina niltrrimK lav everywhere. Rcatteredand bleedinsr. some

screaming, some moaning, others passing beyond the pale in quiet anonymity. Those still alive and mobile fled the area by the hundreds, scattering as far away from the border as they could get. There was no way to know for certain that the Plaguewrought Land would stay secure behind the veil.

Duvan noticed that the only people staying to help were the clerics and monks from the monastery. The Order of Blue Fire members had fled with the others. Vraith and her inner circle of accordants seem to have disappeared. Even Tyrangal was not to be found, and her Copper Guard had dispersed.

., Duvan couldn’t move if he’d wanted to. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps not ever, without help. He merely cradled Slanya’s body and concentrated on his next breath. He focused on his own pains and aches, of which there were plenty. His right leg was broken in at least one place, maybe two. His left leg might also be broken, but he wasn’t sure.

He bled slowly from a hundred tiny abrasions and cuts, but the pain of those was like a deep, burning itch all across his body. Unconsciousness crawled like a swarm of ants at the edges of his mind, advancing then retreating and advancing again. Several times he nearly passed out from weakness and loss of blood, but he was determined not to allow the scavengers or potential poachers near Slanya. By the gods, he would defend her.

Perhaps, she could still be brought back. Kaylinn or another of her clerics could accomplish that, like they had done to him. Duvan hadn’t given up hope yet. And even if Slanya could not be brought back, she deserved a proper funeral—a celebration of her life, her accomplishments and sacrifices.

“Duvan?” the voice came from behind him.

He croaked out an unintelligible reply.

“Duvan?” It was Kaylinn’s voice. The cleric gasped as she noticed Slanya’s dead body. But her words were soothing. “I’ve found vou. now.” she said. Her voice was both motherlv

and commanding. “I will take care of everything.”

At Kaylinn’s arrival, Duvan let Slanya’s hand go. He released his embrace of his dead friend and curled up on the ground next to her body. As Kaylinn’s hands passed over him, examining his injuries, more people arrived to help.

Duvan heard Kaylinn finishing an incantation as though from a great distance. He felt warmth seep into him, and he sensed Kaylinn giving instructions, but he lacked the energy to focus anymore. Duvan let the dark tide of unconsciousness wash over him. Kaylinn would take care of things. Thank the gods for her.

Some time later, Duvan awoke from a dreamless sleep. The smell of jasmine and sage filled his nostrils. The smell reminded him of his home with Papa and Talfani. His wounds had been mended, and his body had been cleaned.

Lying flat on his back, Duvan opened his eyes to a modest monastery room. Through the small window, he saw the first hints of light from the rising sun. Morning birds called and chirped outside.

It was another day. The end of the world had been avoided once more.

Duvan gave a wry chuckle. Then the full impact of Slanya’s death flooded back over him, filling his chest with breath-catching pain. Duvan rolled on his side and pulled the pillow close. He wore a body-length tunic of light cotton, but the fabric felt rough against his battered skin.

Now, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep, to disappear into the oblivion. It seemed that his shell of cynicism had lost its ability to deflect pain. He understood that, and he wasn’t even sad about it. He’d been living behind that shell for too long.

“You did well.” The voice sounded musical and enlightening, despite being barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I let you fall.”

She emerged from the shadows by the corner away from

the door. Tall and stately, regal in her shimmering garments and coppery rain of hair.

Duvan found he was both glad to see Tyrangal and immensely sad that she wasn’t Slanya.

“I am sorry about Slanya,” Tyrangal said. “The clerics say they’re unable to raise her.”

His gut imploded as though she’d kicked him in the stomach. He gasped as the realization trampled him that he would never see Slanya again. Still, he wasn’t completely surprised.

“It was because of her—and you—that we were able to negate Vraith’s ritual,” Tyrangal said. “You two disrupted the ritual magic and put the border back to its original location. Stopped the dam from breaking. Thank you,”

Duvan hugged his pillow into the hollow of his gut, wrapping himself around it. Lonely and aching, the hole in his chest would not be filled.

“Of course it was far from a complete victory. I had to reveal my true self. I may have to move. There are those who will remember me from … before. You should know that I have been called by many names over the centuries— ‘Gaulauntyr’ most recently on this world. I fled after the rage and returned only after Mystra’s death.”

Duvan.blinked. Tyrangal grew more interesting and strange by the minute. And yet for all her power, she had been unable to stop the Order of Blue Fire by herself. For all her age and knowledge, she had been unable to prevent Slanya’s death. She could not bring Slanya back.

Tyrangal continued, “Vraith was lost to the Plaguewrought Land and is perhaps dead. But that’s not certain, and if her knowledge of the ritual gets into the hands of her masters, they will certainly try the ritual again in the future. Of course, with Gregor’s disappearance, it will take them a long while to find another elixir.”

Duvan blinked. Gregor was gone? Not that he cared for Gregor; the man had sold him to be tortured by Vraith.

But he also had rescued Slanya after her house had burned down. He was not all bad.

Tyrangal’s hand touched Duvan on the shoulder. “I am not much good at relationships, Duvan,” she said. “Your lives are too short and your actions are colored by the fear of death. But you are different, my friend. It may not seem like it, but I care for you and I consider you a friend.”

Duvan felt the words chase away the emptiness, if only slightly,

“I am rarely one to wax emotional, so please know that I mean it when I tell you this. I want you to stay with me at my mansion or wherever I settle. I have many lairs.”

Duvan took in a breath. This offer was unexpected, and he did not know whether he trusted it. Did she truly want him? Or just his aura of protection?

“I also would like you to consider helping me to keep tabs on the Order of Blue Fire. It is extremely hard to find someone I can trust. I can trust you, Duvan.”

But can I trust you? Duvan wondered. Tyrangal had kept her true nature hidden from him. Had she just saved him from the WildhOme elves to use him for his spellplague resistance? Duvan didn’t know if he could trust anyone besides Slanya.

Tyrangal stood up straight. “The offer of my home is not contingent upon anything. You can come and go as you wish. You can help me combat the Order or not as you wish. However, I sense you are ready for a new journey, friend.”

Duvan nodded. “I just want to rest,” he said. “Just rest.”

“Do that then,” Tyrangal said. “Take some time to rest. Take some time to say good-bye. That is important. But know that you can come to me whenever you need me.”

Duvan took a deep breath and sat up. “Thank you, Tyrangal.” Duvan stood and faced his rescuer, his long-time employer, and—just perhaps—his friend. He took her into his arms and hugged her.

She returned the hug with less awkwardness than he expected. Up close she smelled of smoke and hot metal.

“Thank you for everything,” he said. “I am not sure what I will do, but you have been kind and generous to me. You have treated me more like a friend than have most humans.”

Yet, as much as Tyrangal’s relationship was important to him, she was still alien in her thinking, still a dragon at heart. And while he respected her immensely, and he appreciated all that she had done for him, he could not really relate to her with any degree of closeness, especially when contrasted against the intimacy of the bond he had shared with Slanya.