"Good," Gyrison replied.
"Yes, good," Arach said immediately after.
"We serve here as priests," Gyrison stated with a short bow.
With a sweeping gesture Arach told him, '"This is our temple."
As one of them finished a movement or phrase, the other continued it or started another. The two men seemed to Vheod to be more like one.
"Priests of what power?" he asked them, still unsure whether to reach for the hilt of his sword. "What is it that you seek?" Gyrison asked. "You're new here, aren't you?" Arach finished. "I… I am," Vheod said slowly, "is that-how do you know that? Is it important? Are outsiders forbidden?" Both men smiled at Vheod. He noted quickly that the building behind them appeared as empty as the larger.
"You've come to Toril looking for… someone?" Gyrison asked him.
Toril. The home of my mother.
Vheod answered quickly, if only to keep Arach from asking a different question of him as well. "I have family here. Somewhere."
"Ah," Arach replied. "We can help you find them, traveler." "Why?"
"Because it's what we do," Gyrison replied. "Because you need us to." He smiled again, in a way Vheod could not interpret.
"Because we can," Arach added.
Vheod looked the two over again. The drizzling precipitation didn't seem to bother them any more than it did him, but the moisture seeped into their brown robes. They seemed to act in perfect concert, but they never looked at each other-only at him. Every instinct within him told him not to trust these two strange men, but he realized that such was the Abyssal way. This was a different world, with different customs, different outlooks, and different approaches. They seemed genuinely generous and hardly a threat. Why not see what they knew?
Vheod pushed the long, wet strands of hair away from his face and asked them, "So what can you tell me?"
"First," Gyrison said, "you must tell us what you seek, exactly."
"Who are your relatives?" Arach asked on his turn. "My great-grandmother's name was Thean," he said trying to stress the name with the same importance that he remembered it was told to him long ago. That single name was all he knew of his mortal heritage. "Great-grandparent," Gyrison said thoughtfully. "Let us take a look," Arach said, motioning toward the pool that Vheod stood beside.
As Vheod turned to look into the water, he realized that the rain had stopped. The pool showed remarkable clarity-no hint of the murkiness that it had just a short time ago. Vheod followed the lead of Gyrison and Arach. He wanted to see, if nothing else, what they would do next.
Still, Vheod paused to think, what joy it might be to find his people here in this world-perhaps they would even accept him as their own. He liked the idea of calling this world home.
Gyrison and Arach stood beside the pool and chanted softly The strange-sounding words broke Vheod out of his thoughts. He couldn't understand what they said, but it seemed likely they were invoking the magical power of whatever deity they represented. Following his instincts, he kept his gaze on the pool. He was rewarded with a surprising sight.
The water calmed to a smooth plane. In this reflective, shining surface, Vheod saw movement. Two humans-one male, one female-stood before a massive, open doorway leading into darkness. As they looked on, a gigantic shape loomed from the dark portal. The creature that passed through the doorway and into the light was a colossus of dark red flesh pulled taut over a broad, muscular frame. Flames dripped from its body like water. Contracted, draconian wings folded at its back, and muscular, taloned arms gripped a jagged sword and a flaming whip with many tails, A tanar'ri balor.
"Not great-grandmother," Gyrison said. The balors were the most powerful of the tanar'ri- they commanded vast legions of lesser fiends and wielded tremendous power. Drenched in flame, their might was rarely questioned.
Further, this balor seemed somehow familiar. It breathed a single word, so low in pitch that Vheod could scarcely comprehend it. "Freedom" was the word he thought it uttered.
"Great-grandfather," Arach stated with a gesture I toward the image.
Great-grandfather. Chare'en.
Vheod had always heard that Chare'en, the grandfather of the tanar'ri fiend that had cursed his human mother with seed, was imprisoned somewhere, but on this world? Unbelievable-but somehow, it made sense. The tanar’ri side of his family must have had some connection with this world or Vheod's father would never have come in contact with his mother.
Now this vision showed Chare'en free. A balor free in this peaceful and beautiful world could bring only disaster, terror, and death. Further, it would bring Vheod one step closer to the Abyss from which he'd just escaped. A balor would bring more tanar'ri, and Nethess would be sure to learn that he was here. If Chare'en was freed, this place would no longer be safe for him. He had to stop this-but how?
"Tell me," Vheod demanded, "does this sight represent the past, present, or future?" "Future," Gyrison answered. "A possible future," Arach added. "How can I stop it?"
"Stop it?" Gyrison repeated with a look of surprise. Or was it mock, surprise? Vheod no longer cared to play these games.
"Where are these two?" Vheod pointed to the humans in the pool's image. They appeared similar in their faces and mannerisms. Perhaps the two were related.
The two priests, for the first time since Vheod had seen them, looked at each other. They said nothing, though it seemed that perhaps their eyes spoke silent words in a language only they shared.
"Where?" Vheod demanded. "You must tell me!" Gyrison opened his mouth to speak, but Arach held up a hand that silenced the round priest. "There is one, not unlike you, in a place called Tilverton, who can tell you what you need to know."
One like him? What did that mean? Vheod looked at Arach, then Gyrison, and back to Arach. Their plain faces stared at him expressionlessly with their silly, simpleton smiles.
"Very well," Vheod said. Unaccustomed to most niceties, he turned without further word and strode out of the temple. If he was to stop Chare'en, he had to start now. A balor was nothing to underestimate, and he already doubted his own power and skill. The sky, empty of its rain, grew dim as the day drew to a close.
His driven pace took him away from the ruins without so much as a look back, which is why he never saw the enigmatic smiles on the faces of Gyrison and Arach turn more sinister. Nor did he notice that the Taint had formed a wide-mouthed face on the back on his hand, a face that bore the same wicked smile.
Chapter Three
Melann felt much better, having spent some time around those whose faith was so strong and whose devotion was so great. The Abbey of the Golden Sheaf was filled with wonderful growing things and those who truly cared for them. Its stone walls surrounded many plots of ground dedicated to various cultivated fields, gardens and orchards, all larger and more important than the abbey structure itself. She'd never seen such beautiful flowers or such vibrant gardens of vegetables, fruit, and all sorts of wondrous plants. The soil was black, with richness and well tended. Even the smell of the abbey gladdened her heart and gave her peace. Despite the importance of the task, at hand, she was loathe to leave the abbey and did so only at her brother's repeated urgings.
Her problem, Melann decided while happily joining in the toil of weeding and watering an expansive and robust patch of strawberries, was that she'd been too focused on their quest. While finding the key to ending her family curse and saving her parents was obviously very important, her meager, mortal concerns were nothing compared to the divine nature and endless toil of Chauntea. Melann now believed she had to focus on the teachings and responsibilities of the Mother of All and the duties that fell on her as a servant and representative of that power in the world of men. From now on, she wouldn't let a day go by without nurturing a growing plant. She needed to become her goddess's tool in the world, to help bring forth fruit and abundant life.