Chapter 9 - Abelard - The Perils of the Bath

The young Warlock, hips and knees smarting from repeatedly being struck by Balmoral's well wielded oar, made his way back into town from the West Gates, eyes, and emotions downcast.

Trails of glass ornaments, unnoticed, mark a cheery path Northward to where shining lanterns and glimmering glass ornaments adorning the massive Apple tree visible to the far north of town. Distant, cheery music played as the first Hopswych villagers began to meander towards the fun in their merry festival clothing. The Summerlight Faire had begun.

Abelard, in a cloud of angst and self doubt, passed straight through decorations and passers by alike, headed towards his room at the Inn to seek out the solace of solitude.

Zarzar the Innkeep spotted Abelard as he entered the Humble House Inn, but the rotund halfling was busy serving a crowd of guests who stopped in for a round of pre-drinking before the Faire and merely waved a cheery hello. The jovial laughter in the common room contrasted jarringly with the half-elf's mood, and he quickly barreled his way through and to the stairs to get to his room.

Alone in his room, Abelard looked around the darkened interior, lost. After having spent weeks hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder with his companions, seemingly facing new death around every corner, he realized with a start that he didn't even know where Buskin and Zigras were. He hadn't seen them since very early that morning. Trillium hadn't been seen since the left the party last night. For all he knew, she was gone again. Gone. Everyone always leaves. From the dark depth of an emotional well, Abelard wondered how awful he really must be if even people he's fought to save, who he has fought beside, abandon him as soon as they get the chance.

Door locked, shutters closed, the room dark and steamy, Abelard undressed and slid into his hot bath, hoping the soak would sooth muscles and emotion and allow him to relax.... Finally. After his morning ordeals in the brightness of the midsummer sun, there was something comfortable about the shadows. Shadows comforted the young Warlock. They sheltered and protected him, like a cloak. Here in the darkness, he may be alone, but at least he felt safe.

"If it's better focus you want, Dark Herald," hisses an accented voice from the darkness, "There are much ssimpler waysss. I can help you."

Now, sibilant whispers from the shadows were second nature to Abelard at this point. And, for a split second Abelard's internal mental struggle with himself ebbed. Happiness dragging itself to the surface. Yes. A talk with his Silver Dragon Patron, Scyntillax, now would be good!

But this... This, Abelard realized with a start, eyes flying open, was not the familiar voice in the shadows of Abelard's patron. It was a voice that caused the Half Elf to shiver, even submerged in the hot water. A voice he had heard recently atop the Cosmotoriom. A voice that stiffened his spine with fear and anger.

There! In the darkness! Slithering out from under Abelard's bed! A familiar large, poisonous snake crawled out and raised its head to stare at the warlock with bright green eyes. Eyes that match the voice Abelard just heard.

A voice he hoped never to hear again.

The voice of the Serpent Sorceress Shai-Lu.

*

Abelard, utterly gracelessly, shoved his way to standing, slippery feet churning to gain purchase in the soapy bath. Water splashed everywhere as he summoned his axe to hand, and, naked but at least armed, scanned the room for signs of the Sorceress!

Even as he, mentally, called to the shadows for Scyntillax's protection, "Syntillax, please. Protect me from this witches magics!", the Warlock did his best to confront the snake 'confidently'. "Help me? You? Ha! You don't seek to help me... You seek to help yourself... And your master! What makes you think I would even begin to fall for your false aid, Sorceress?"

Abelard stood there, feet in the previously luxurious hot bath, axe in hand, skin bare to the air, water streaming down his body to fall to the wet floor, and attempted to sound confident. All the while, inside, wondering if this is how he dies... Despite his struggles... Regardless of all his preparations... After all his efforts.... Alone. Would the others ever even know?

"False? What purpose would lying serve," asked the voice of Shai-Lu, while the scaly lips of her familiar Sepsis move, "When the truth that has been hidden from you benefits the both of us?"

"I do not deny my objectives. And if I may achieve them by helping you achieve yours, too, why would I not do so? I am not the one who laid the mantle, and curse, of the Dark Herald upon you. But I know it will not be lifted until you either fulfill your destiny or pass the mantle on through death. It must be a terrible burden. One you should not have to face... alone."

"Come Abelard. Be reasonable. If you fight this, the Rood will haunt you and ruin what remains of your life. Let us put aside this silly squabble, and let me help you."

Abelard barked out a false laugh. "Ha! I have seen what comes to those that listen to your words. I saw what remained of Twinkleblink. I prefer my brain right where it sits, thank you!" Abelard continued speaking as he scanned the room for signs of Shai Lu herself, but saw only the snake familiar.

He stepped, nude, out of the bath, water raining down to join the buckets full already covering the floor, drawing arcane symbols on his chest as he summoned the Fiendish Icy protection of Armor of Agathys around him. Just because he was naked did not mean he had to be easy prey! "I can think of nothing you could say that would make me trust you, but spout your false promises, or strike. THIS Herald will not be your puppet!"

"You would be wise to consider my offer, Herald. I can make your path easier. I can show you secrets you never dreamed of. I can grant your heart's desire...", the snake hissed back.

The words emanating from the serpent familiar's mouth seem like truth, though Abelard knew all too well how cold and misleading truth can be. There was not a trace of warmth or friendliness or compassion in the serpent delivered words of the Kyzoxian sorceress. 'But', Abelard thought, 'if Shai-Lu's plans required the Rood, and if indeed the Rood could only be used by the Heralds, then she seems to be acknowledging the need of our aid... and offering assistance in return.'

"Would you so quickly throw away your chance to hold Jorunn in your arms again? Ah well, perhaps another time then." And , before Abelard's frozen brain could react. Before he could demand what she meant about Jorunn, the magical essence of Sepsis' serpentine body disincorporates into a green mist, then vanished.

Water warmed skin grown cold, brain seeming unable to connect the name of Shai-Lu to Jorunn's, Abelard simply stared, unmoving, at the spot where the snake had been, as the Sorceresses words crash through him.

What did she mean?

What COULD she mean?

Could it be possible? Those magic were long gone from Vela. And yet, so were the other magics she had, so recently, used against them. She obviously held power beyond their understanding. Could she really...

And, if not. If it was a lie. Jorunn. How did she know? How COULD she know? Abelard slumped down to sit on the tub's rim, not even noticing as the now cooled pooled all over the bath room floor. Buskin could joke all he wanted about how Abelard tackled problems, but Abelard sure Wished more of his problems looked like nails!

**

Some unknown amount of time later, Abelard was completely unsure how long he had sat there, brain spinning uselessly in circles & feeling sorry for himself, the young Half Elf realized that If Shai Lu had been here talking to him here, she could be elsewhere near too. In fact... Didn't she HAVE to be near to speak through a familiar?

The others might be in danger as well!

He lurched up, only then realizing how chilled the bath has become, and raced to don armor and gather his things.

Rushing downstairs, Abelard looked about for signs of his companions, internally cursing that he had no access to some means of communicating with them short of screaming from the rooftops.

***