Chapter 20 - Part 1

CHAPTER TWENTY – MOTIVATIONS
The 25th of Sypheros, 993 Y.K., just before noon, in the Demon Wastes, with the storm of Ashtakala on the horizon

Delegado sighted carefully and fired. The arrow flew over two hundred feet to take the man in ragged clothing with the stone club in the throat. He died messily, as he had lived. The other sixteen members of his group were already dead, and none of them had gotten any closer.

“Who were they?” Orphan asked, standing next to Delegado. “Why wouldn’t they stop coming once they saw you were taking them out from so far away?”

“They’re insane,” Delegado snorted. “If they’re living this close to Ashtakala out of some crazy desire to serve the fiends, they’re too crazy to realize to think practically of tactics.”

“I wonder if these carrion tribes are as diseased as they say,” Orphan said. “Perhaps I should be the one who hides the bodies, I cannot pick up what they have.”

“Don’t rely on that pompous hairball for your information about these lunatics,” Delegado said. He was looking up at a speck that was Feather returning, but his posture suggested that he was very aware of Flamebearer as she talked softly to Thomas some sixty feet behind them.

“No, of course not,” Orphan said calmly, hiding his surprise. It was the first time in over two days that the half-orc had mentioned Flamebearer, even indirectly. Since leaving Festering Holt the half-orc had refused to look at the bugbear paladin, refused to listen to her, and refused to even acknowledge anything she said when she spoke. When she had summoned her horse from some celestial realm as soon as they were out of sight of Festering Holt, Orphan’s reaction had been the same as Thomas’ – one of stunned amazement at the creature’s beauty and divine grace. Delegado’s response was to sneer and ride his horse further across the broken lands of the Wastes. Had Thomas and Flamebearer not mounted quickly, they wouldn’t have caught up with the angry half-orc. “I’ll go take care of those bodies now,” the warforged said, sprinting down the low slope.

Orphan got to the bodies quickly, even more quickly than one of the horses would have, and they were fast. The travel to Ashtakala had been swift, and it had gone even swifter once the land had flattened out. Since the morning of the previous day the crevasses and broken upthrusts of rock had gradually faded to a barren expanse of black sand and obsidian gravel, and the dusting of snow did not touch the dark ground. There was no cover of any sort, and the gravel crunched loudly when it was stepped on, but almost nothing bothered them. There had been one screaming undead thing, something emaciated that had charged them until Flamebearer had held a silver arrowhead aloft and made it flee with some unknown power. There had been a skeleton of a large snake that had erupted from the ground, but Orphan had shattered it with one blow before it could bite. Now there were these dead humans that apparently lived to walk around the storm of Ashtakala, praying and gibbering.

And what a storm it was. There was a smoking volcano far to the north, and the ranges of the Icehorns could be seen to the south and west, but it was the magical storm of Ashtakala that dominated the eye. Even now, some ten miles from the city, it dominated a large part of the horizon. Orphan could not see the top of it, as it went up into the dark clouds, but the dull roaring that he could hear was accompanied by flying shards of glass and debris that went from ground to sky, twirling and slashing at the air. It was huge, easily capable of hiding a decently-sized Aundairian city. Orphan wondered how they would ever be able to bypass it.

The warforged hurriedly dug at the gravel and sand with his hands and began interring the bodies. He looked up once to see Delegado approaching closer, the hawk on his shoulder and the bow in his hands. The half-orc was moving slowly, his eyes watching everywhere. Still riding about forty feet behind the half-orc was Thomas’ mount, carrying most of their supplies, and Flamebearer on her magical white steed. Her horse seemed to have a faint golden glow to it, but they may have been a trick of the weak light that managed its way down through the dark clouds. Or perhaps it was the result of Flamebearer opening another sunrod. Orphan was glad that she was along, although he hadn’t mentioned it to Delegado. For one thing her store of sunrods and other alchemical devices was welcome.

Orphan had talked to her often enough over the past few days, particularly when they had stopped at night and Delegado was asleep. She seemed eager to try and convert him, while evasive about whether or not she believed warforged had souls. He pointed out the irony in that and was pleased that she acknolwedged it. Still, his interest in her faith was only academic. He made it clear to her that he believed in a divine being, but one that was separate from what had been created. She was shocked that he did not believe in the Sovereign Host, either. When she asked him why he disbelieved, he pointed out that he was merely not convinced.

“If a divine being brought forth this world, then that being would be separate from it,” Orphan said. “It is only logical.”

“But the divine being has the power to manifest itself should it choose to do so,” Flamebearer pointed out. “If it created the world, it can manifest in the world.”

“Yes, but why bother?” Orphan asked. “I believe that there are sacred things in the world and profane things, but they are all the works of sentient creatures making choices of good or evil. Even your Silver Flame comes from a noble act of a mortal. You surely don’t think that Tira Miron created the Flame herself, do you? If so, then she would have to be divine.”

“Tira Miron was a woman, a holy woman, but a mere woman,” Flamebearer said, a bit defensively. “No one thinks she is divine. Tira Miron made the Flame appear, but it is coalescence of good, not a thing she created. Her sacrifice drew it together. The Silver Flame is about purpose. It never claimed to create the world.”

“This is why I cannot accept your faith, not the Sovereign Host,” Orphan said gently. “The various parts of the world work together too smoothly to be anything but the fashioning of one hand, and while I do not deny that the Silver Flame is a very real force that does very much good, that does not make a god to me.”

“You cling to your postulates,” she laughed.

“Because they make sense,” he told her.

She had called him a polite pagan after that, and doubtless would have talked to him more, but she had a very real convert on her hands. Thomas ate up every word she said, and he kept asking her if it was true that the Silver Flame would accept his atonement for his earlier deeds. She and the half-daelkyr were often deep in conversation.

“Thomas!” Delegado called back, turning his head slightly but not looking directly behind him so that he wouldn’t have to see the bugbear woman. “I’m heading east a bit to study the storm. You start figuring out if the staff can move it. I’ll be back in a half-hour. Feather says the area around the city is clear.”

“Understood,” the half-daelkyr called back.

Delegado galloped eastwards, his horse kicking up gravel, and Feather squawking on his shoulder. As he approached, Orphan hurriedly finished hiding the last body and began to run next to Delegado’s horse.

“You keeping me company, Orphan?” the half-orc asked. His features were hard and cold as he watched the storm.

“Why not?” Orphan asked. Delegado snorted but gave no other answer.

Some ten minutes later they were far from Thomas and Flamebearer, and the storm of flying rock and glass filled up the sky, even though they were still almost seven miles from it. Delegado reined in his horse, which needed the break, and then leaned forward intently, studying the sight in front of him.

Orphan said nothing, not wanting to disturb the half-orc’s concentration. Delegado’s face was intent as the bounty hunter scanned the unnatural storm. Two full minutes passed, and the only sound was the dull roar of the storm.

“There’s a lull,” Delegado finally said.

“A lull?”

“Yeah, but it will still kill us. That thing is deep, I can’t tell how deep, but at least two hundred feet and probably even double that. It’s strong enough to knock the horses over, and that flying stuff is shards of volcanic glass. We’d be ribbons within minutes, even the lull.”

“Where is the lull?” Orphan asked, confused.

“It isn’t yet,” Delegado explained. “Look, Orphan, air and water don’t move as one mass. They’re a lot of tiny particles all doing the same thing, but they aren’t like solids. That’s why in windstorms you get higher and lower gusts, and why rain falls in drops, and large bodies of water form waves. Even magically manipulated gases and liquids don’t move all as one. And the bigger the mass being moved, the more pronounced the waves are. That’s why Lake Cyre’s waves aren’t as high as the waves of an ocean.”

“Okay,” Orphan said, understanding the concept. “How does that affect this storm?”

“The storm is huge,” Delegado said. “It’s the air version of the water at low tide or high tide at the ocean beach. I watched the patterns, and I can find the lull. The winds aren’t as bad and the glass doesn’t cut as much. Once inside I could continue to follow the lull as it moves for about ten to fifteen minutes. Hopefully that would be enough time to get through.”

“But you said we’d still die,” Orphan said. He then remembered what Oalian had said. “You’re thinking of the staff.”

“You’ve got it,” Delegado said. “Even that staff could only suppress the worse aspects of this storm, not end it. But if I track the lull and Thomas uses the staff, we’re in. You’ll have to get on a horse and Feather will have to be strapped to my chest again, otherwise neither of you will make any headway, the winds will still be strong, but not the glass.” He looked down at Orphan. “I can get us through this. Trust me, not many can, but I can. And that’s something that no pious paladin can do.”

Orphan was silent for a moment, then took the plunge. “Delegado, if I have a fault it is my curiosity. So I have held off asking you about certain things that make you defensive. But we have a responsibility to get into this accursed city and find this prisoner, so I have to ask.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your reaction whenever I bring up Drorin’s words to you,” Orphan said. The warforged braced himself for a violent response.

He didn’t get one. Delegado looked irritated, but settled for frowning down at him from his saddle. “I’m hanging around you too long,” Delegado said. “I’m beginning to get better at reading a construct’s body language. I’m not going to attack you, so relax. I’m sorry about the whiskey bottle.”

“I know,” Orphan said.

“Look,” Delegado said, shifting his weight. “I don’t like to let my guard down, okay? I’m careful about who to let in, so I don’t say much to people, or not much of import, anyway. You’ve spent more time talking to me than anyone else in years, I’m a solitary guy otherwise. On top of that you’re too good for your own good at reading people. If you could lie worth the Fury’s tears I’d teach you how to play cards, but you can’t. So I was surprised, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Her name was Ois Silva,” Delegado said. “I met her in Aundair when I first started doing serious work outside of the Marches, and she is the only woman I ever loved. I met her for business purposes, she was a thief, and she knew fences and smugglers.” He smiled. “She was a changeling. She could make herself look like anyone she wanted, but she was so beautiful when she had her own face. I saw her real face without her intending it because I had broken into her apartment. I was going to intimidate her into giving me the information I needed, but I didn’t, I just paid her.”

“You cared for her very much,” Orphan said.

“Yeah,” Delegado replied, wiping his eyes. There was a lot of dust in the air, but the warforged didn’t think that it was dust in the half-orc’s eyes that was being wiped away. “She’s also part of my string of initial successes in Aundair, Thrane, and even Breland. We began to really care for one another, and we started to do everything together. Then my father died.”

“He was an older man, right?”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t it. He came north to the Wastes to help establish Blood Crescent. He was prospecting when his party was attacked. No survivors. In fact, they found only a few body parts, including his hand with his wedding ring on it. Demons ate the rest. My mother wept for days.” The half-orc sighed. “Anyway, I went back to the Marches for a funeral service, and a whole dung-load of politics. I told you once, there were many in the family who didn’t think I should have this sword. And even afterwards, once my successes were documented and everyone agreed to it, I got flack from one of my half-sisters. Long story short, she’s in the Marches as a family administrator, so the Triumverate figured I should be outside the Marches. Easiest way to keep the peace. That’s how I keep getting the hardest missions, because I keep succeeding. I’ve made my House a lot of money. That first time going after Shaidan was the only time I ever failed to bring a bounty in.” A ghost of a grin crossed his face. “That mission to Valenar that I met you on, Breland specifically requested me by name, and refused to consider hiring anyone else.”

“Then you went back to Ois after the family matters were settled.”

“Yeah,” Delegado said bitterly. “She had missed me, and she had begun to explore spirituality to fill the void. She talked of taking vows to become a Gatekeeper druid, but I told her not to do it just to please me. She said she wanted to marry me.” He shook his head. “We were so in love I can’t tell you, and it was even more intense then it had been before I left for my father’s funeral. I felt like I was choking when I wasn’t around her. We’d stopped saying the ‘I’m fond of you’ and ‘I care for you’ garbage that people say when they’re afraid to say how much they really feel. My world revolved around her. I ignored her growing interest in religion, thought it was a passing thing. Then I had to leave for a long time.”

“House business.”

“Serious House business, and I wasn’t allowed to talk about half of it. Khyber’s arse, I wasn’t allowed to talk about any of it, really. It was about this time of year, too. I had to go to Cyre, and then Darguun, and I was seriously incognito when I was in the goblin lands. By the time I got back near the end of winter, she was in Thrane. She had converted to the Silver Flame.”

“And she wouldn’t have anything to do with you anymore?” Orphan asked.

“Oh no, she would, but her instructors told her she couldn’t have any contact with me if I rejected their faith,” Delegado said angrily. “Get something real clear, Orphan. There’s a reason why that bugbear is out here in the middle of nowhere. The Silver Flame is the most bigoted faith you’ll ever find. Yeah, there’s worshippers and low-level church official of all races, but once you get more than one rung up the ladder, it’s all humans. They look down on dwarves, elves, anyone who isn’t human. Especially orcs. They told me I was inherently impure because my mother was a monstrous race.”

“How badly did you hurt them?” Orphan asked dryly.

Delegado chuckled, his bitterness easing somewhat. “I had my hands around the man’s throat when the spellcasters made my muscles freeze. If not for Ois they would have slit my throat while I was paralyzed. The long of the short of it was she told me she was going to become a paladin, and she couldn’t associate with me any more unless I accepted her faith.”

“You blame the Silver Flame for breaking you up.”

“I certainly do. Human worshippers of that fire can f’test each other in any cheap inn in Khorvaire, even the paladins, so long as they do it with other humans. Not a changeling and a half-orc. I had to stay away from her, and she went along with it.” He swallowed. “I haven’t loved anyone since. The truth is, except for a crush I had when I was seven on a Lyrandar lady sea captain, I didn’t love anyone before her either.” The half-orc sighed. “I didn’t see her again until earlier this year. Almost eight years had passed, and she still wrenched my heart upside down. She was in Droaam. We took down Shaidan together. She said she wanted to marry me, no matter what her church masters said.” Delegado closed his eyes and shuddered. “Then she died.”

“But Drorin said she’s alive,” Orphan said.

“I know that!” Delegado snapped. “Look, Orphan, get something straight, okay? Nobody, and I mean nobody, ever gets fooled by a con artist unless they want to believe the lie they’re being fed. And when they really, really want to believe it, they believe it in spite of everything they know to the contrary. I saw her die. I saw what killed her. I saw her body fall. But I still don’t want her to be dead. Somehow Drorin picked up images from my mind, or maybe whatever force was driving him picked up those images. I don’t know. But it was bait, plain and simple. And even though I didn’t believe it, I wanted to believe it, if only for a little while, so I took it.”

“You don’t believe in the mission, then?” Orphan asked.

“Oh I believe in the mission,” Delegado said. “I’d be an idiot not to believe Oalian. But I also know that I am – or I was – selfish enough to not have ever been interested in this unless I was properly baited.” He pointed to the storm of flying shards. “There’s maybe five trackers in the world that can get anyone through that,” Delegado said. “And only one of those five has a Greater Dragonmark of Finding. That’s me. We each have a part to play here, but whoever set this up fed me a lie to induce me to come along. I can’t say I blame them.”

Orphan considered that. “Do you think what was told to Thomas was a lie?” the warforged asked. “Or to me? Or to Flamebearer?”

“I don’t know what that idiot bugbear was promised or what she wasn’t,” scoffed the half-orc. “But she’s a fool if she believes it. Thomas was promised peace, which is something that does not exist. You were promised an artifact of knowledge. Given that the fiends probably dump every little thing they steal behind that wall of flying glass, you may be the only one who wasn’t lied to.” Delegado grinned down at him. “But then you’re also the only one who’d do this for the sheer interest.”

“That’s not true,” Orphan said. “Well, not entirely.” Delegado grinned more. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Delegado laughed, but then his face grew serious. “Orphan, I never even told my family about Ois. And I’m probably only telling you because we’re likely to be dead in a short period of time. But in case you live, keep it to yourself, okay?”

“I swear to keep your confidences by the Balanced Palm itself,” Orphan said.

“A simple ‘sure thing’ would have sufficed,” Delegado sighed, spurring hs horse to turn and go back to Thomas. “I mean you swore by an order that has only one member, for crying out loud.”

Orphan shook his head and followed the half-orc. For the fun of it, he ran ahead of Delegado’s mount no matter how fast it pumped its legs.