In the nightmare of endless slaughter Alias began to lose track of time. A few of the beasts had managed to evade her sword long enough to slash at her back and arms or sink their teeth into her legs. The wounds were all minor, but they burned like fire. She tried not to think about how much she was bleeding.
Then came the moment she knew she was doomed. Her legs would not move-something held them frozen. She slashed downward with her sword, but the blade thunked against something hard at her hips. She looked down to find herself encased, just as the shard of Verovan's soul had been, by the mist of unformed manes, which had hardened into a pearl-like shell.
The swordswoman switched her weapon from hand to hand, trying to keep the manes from reaching either side of her body, but she was blind at her back. One of the monsters sunk its teeth into the back of her neck, and it took her several awkward stabs before she managed to dislodge it. "Alias!" Dragonbait shouted.
Alias twisted her head, her heart pounding with hope at the sound of the paladin's call.
The paladin came rushing toward her, his sword blazing with fire, cutting down manes like a farmer scything hay. Once at her side, he wheeled to protect her back. "We found the key and opened the portal. I sent Thistle out. I think the sooner we leave, the better." "I'm stuck," Alias explained, "like the piece of Verovan's soul."
Dragonbait tapped on the casing about the swordswoman's legs.
"I didn't know manes could go hard like this," Alias said.
"The manes that make up this mist are not like ordinary manes. This planar pocket, or the years they spent trapped in here away from the Abyss, has altered them," Dragonbait said. He smashed his'sword against the casing, without effect. The scent of violets wafted from the saurial's throat-the scent of his fear.
"Alias, listen carefully," the paladin ordered. "These manes are hungry for more than your flesh. They want to devour your essence-your spirit and your soul. But they can only do that if they can find a weakness-" The paladin paused to slash through another wave of manes, then continued. They look for open wounds on your soul and spirit and drink from them like flies. You have to rid yourself of those things that make you bleed inside-"
"What's going on?" Mintassan's voice called out. The sage was drifting across the mists, flying just high enough to remain out of reach of the manes. "Lady Thistle's outside, holding the portal open. She said you might need some help." "Can you teleport us out of here?" Alias asked.
"Afraid not-something in the makeup of this plane resists alteration magic," the sage explained. Upon spying the shell surrounding Alias's legs, he gave a low whistle. "That looks bad. Perhaps it can be dispelled," he suggested.
Dragonbait shook his head. "It's not magical. It would be more use if you could circle us with protection from evil," he said.
The sage must have already cast a spell to understand Saurial, for he immediately began circling the warriors, casting the protection spell Dragonbait had asked for. When he'd finished, the manes all began moving away. They lingered at the edge of Mintassan's magic boundary, waiting for it to dissipate. The mist, too, flowed out of the circle of protection. The shell about Alias's legs, however,remained. Trying desperately to conceal his own anxiety, Dragonbait spoke as calmly as he could. "Concentrate on your feelings," he instructed Alias. "Clear your heart of everything that poisons it. Verovan's soul was cut by his greed, Victor's by his lust for power." "Victor's dead," Alias said softly. "The manes got him."
"I know," the paladin replied. He did not mention that he could feel the man's evil spirit hovering nearby, no doubt waiting to witness the swordswoman's death. "You have to let go of your anger and hatred for Victor Dhostar."
Alias did not reply immediately. She didn't know how to tell the paladin that she didn't wish to do as he bid her. She cherished her anger and hatred of the nobleman.-Victor had deceived her in the worst way. She had every right to be angry, to hate him.
The saurial sighed, realizing how hard it must be for Alias to give up the powerful emotions. They had fastened themselves so strongly to her essence that losing them would feel like losing herself. She could not accept that there was so much more to her being than these poisonous, wounding feelings. He ran his fingertips down the brand on her sword arm, trying to kindle a spark of the link that bound their souls together.
Alias shivered at the paladin's touch. She could sense his great serenity, his compassion, his tenderness and concern. She knew, though, that she was nothing like him, would never be, could never be as good. There were times she wished she were, but wishing did not make it so.
Dragonbait looked up suddenly at the manes massing behind Alias. He could feel their evil darkening, growing more powerful.
Alias struggled, but she remained trapped in the mist shell.
"Alias, please," the paladin begged. "Let it go. I know you can do it." "I can't," the swordswoman snapped. "I've tried." "You can!" Dragonbait snapped back. "No, I can't!"
"She doesn't dare," Mintassan interjected. "It's her only protection."
"Protection?" Dragonbait growled. "It's trapped her in this evil place. How is that protection?"
"If she gives up her anger and hatred, there's nothing left but bitterness and despair," the sage pointed out. "Why would she want to feel them?"
The paladin nodded. Bitterness; the shadow of anger, and despair, the evil without a color. He wasn't very familiar with them, so he'd forgotten them both. Mintassan knew them though, intimately.
"Alias, what Mintassan says is true. You're holding onto the anger and hate because you're afraid of the bitterness and despair- You know they'll hurt you even more. But you can shed them, too. Trust me."
"I am not bitter apd despairing!" Alias shouted. "I'm just stuck in a damned rock. Go get Durgar. Maybe he's got some priest prayer that can break this thing open."
Behind Alias the mist was taking on a serpent shape, and the serpent was rising up. "Alias, there isn't time," the paladin insisted. "Your life depends on it. Let them go-"
"I have no reason to be bitter or despairing," Alias argued. "Victor was a monster, and I'm well rid of him. He wasn't worthy of my love. I know that."
"It's not the loss of that worthless man that brings you pain," Mintassan said. "It's the loss of the love you felt. Your love was good, and when it died, it left you empty."
The mist serpent began winding around the border of the spell of protection.
Alias glared at Mintassan. "I don't have time for stupid conversations with sages. What do you know about my love? You don't know anything except what you read in your dusty old tomes."
"Oh, don't I?" Mintassan replied, holding her eyes with his own. "Do you think it was easy for me watching someone I cared about fling herself at someone as unworthy as Victor Dhostar." Alias felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, as if she'd run into a wall of understanding. When she'd first arrived, the sage had cared less about Westgate than she had, but for some reason he'd been there to save her life. Then he'd thrown himself into her quest for vengeance. Now he stood in this stinking, gods-forsaken, evil-ridden pit of a planar pocket arguing with her.
The swordswoman flushed with embarrassment. Why did he have to tell her this?
"So the question is," Mintassan said, "if the lowly sage survived his battle against bitterness and despair, why won't the great warrior woman risk battling them, too?"
Alias squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep tears from falling out of them. Mintassan was right. She missed her love. It had made her feel warm and safe and happy.