by Mel Odom
Azla was below with the others, questioning Frennick. The pirate captain laid out torturer's tools on a small table, the metal gleaming from the lantern light.
Jherek hadn't been able to stay, nor did Azla permit it.
He struggled with his conscience, telling himself that Frennick deserved all that Azla could think to give him, but it was no use. Through it all, the young sailor remembered that it was his doing that placed Frennick in her hands.
"Young warrior."
Turning, Jherek saw Glawinn approaching him, two steaming cups in his hands.
"I brought you some soup," the paladin said. "I thought it might serve to warm you some."
Jherek didn't want the soup, didn't want to pretend that everything was normal. A man he'd captured was being tortured down in the hold. He couldn't help but listen for the screams he knew must come. Thankfully, the crash of the sea's waves was too loud.
He accepted the cup anyway and said, "Thank you."
"What an awful place this is," Glawinn commented quietly.
"There are people in Immurk's Hold who still maintain an innocence," Jherek stated, thinking of the girl he'd rescued in the tavern.
"That was a brave and good thing you did back there, young warrior."
"It was foolish," Jherek grumbled, then shook his head. "Come morning, the girl will still be on the island."
"You saved her from a bad night."
"Delayed, is more correct, I think." Jherek turned the cup in his hands, absorbing the heat. The soup smelled delicious, full of spices.
"You've got a headful of dark thoughts," the paladin said.
"I look out there, and I wonder how different I am from those men," Jherek said. "Did I ever tell you how I came to Velen from my father's ship?"
IV
5 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
"I was twelve," Jherek said. "My father spotted a merchant ship, heavily laden so she was sitting low in the water and dragging down the wind. That night he announced to the ship's crew that we would claim it as a prize the next morning."
Glawinn listened in silence.
"My father is a hard man," Jherek said. "You know the stories they tell along the Sword Coast of Bloody Falkane, and you know that nearly all of them are true. He's unforgiving and merciless, as able to cut down an unarmed man as he is to fight to the death. There is no right or wrong in his world, only what he is strong enough to take."
The rattling of the rigging on the lanyards sounded hollow, echoing the way Jherek felt. Glawinn waited silently.
As he spoke, Jherek felt the heat of unshed tears burning his eyes. Still, even though his voice was so tight it pained him to speak, he had to.
"I loved my father."
"As a child should," Glawinn said.
"I remember how he laughed. It was a huge, boisterous sound. Even though I didn't understand much of what made him laugh, I laughed with him. As I grew older, I stopped laughing and learned to fear him. Then, one day, he saw that in me. My father told me that I had to learn to be hard, that the world was cold and would eat the weak. I believed him, and I believed I was weak."
"That's not true."
Jherek didn't bother to argue. "He had me taken from the small room off his cabin where he'd kept me all that time and put in with the men. They weren't any more gentle than he'd been, though they were careful not to leave any marks that he could see."
In the distance, another longboat drew up to a cog and lanterns moved along its length as the passengers prepared to board.
"For the next eight years, I lived in the shadows of my father's rage. There was never a day I felt peace between us, nor anything even close to love."
"To be the son Bloody Falkane wanted," the paladin said, "you'd have to have been born heartless and with ice water in your veins. Where was your mother?" "I never knew her."
"Your father never spoke of her?"
"Not once," the young sailor replied. "Nor did the ship's crew."
He stared up at the dark sky and refused to let the tears come. How much of it came from what he remembered, and how much because he knew Frennick was down in the hold, he couldn't say.
"The night I chose to leave," Jherek continued, "my father visited me in the hold. He brought a cutlass and placed it in my hand and told me I would take a place in the boarding party in the morning."
"At twelve?"
"Aye. He told me I'd kill or be killed, and in the doing of that, I'd be dead or I'd take my first steps toward becoming his son."
"Lathander's mercy," the paladin whispered.
"I stayed up most of the night," Jherek continued. "I knew I couldn't be part of that boarding party."
"Because you knew it was the wrong thing to do."
His throat hurting too much to speak right away, Jherek shook his head. "No. I only knew I was afraid," he said hoarsely. "I was afraid I would be killed, but mostly I was afraid of what my father would do to me if I froze and could not move, could not make it onto that other ship. I was certain he would kill me himself. So I walked out onto the deck when no one was looking, threw the cutlass into the sea, and jumped in after it. Bunyip sailed on, leaving me in the ocean. I wanted to die, but I started to swim, not even knowing where I was heading. I don't know how long I swam, but I know it was well into the next day before I washed up on Velen's shores."
They were silent for a time and Jherek struggled to ease his thoughts back into the dark places of his mind where he kept them.
"Why are you telling me this?" Glawinn asked.
"Because you seem to see something good in me," Jherek said, "and I wanted you to know it was false. I ran from my father's ship that night."
"You didn't want to kill innocent people," Glawinn objected.
Anger stirred in the coldness that filled Jherek. "Am I any better now? I took a man prisoner tonight only so he could be tortured."
"It's not what you think."
"Isn't it?" Jherek demanded. "I am my father's son. When it came time to take Frennick, I took him and I brought him here."
"No, young warrior, you judge yourself too harshly. You did only what you had to do. You are meant for more than being a pirate's son, Jherek."
"How can you believe that?"
"That's the wrong question." A small, sad smile twisted Glawinn's lips. "After having heard everything I have from you, the question is how could I not believe that."
"I just want out," Jherek said tiredly. "I don't want any more false hope, no more dreams, and I'm sick of the fear that has filled me all my life."
"A way will be made," Glawinn whispered. "You must believe."
Jherek couldn't, and he knew it. He looked out over the black water, taking in all the emptiness that made up the Sea of Fallen Stars.
"It's done."
Almost asleep, Jherek blinked and looked up at Azla as she strode across the deck.
More than an hour had passed since Azla had gone below with Frennick. The young sailor pushed himself up from his seated position against the prow railing.
"And Frennick?" Jherek asked.
"Relax," Azla told him. "Frennick is alive and of one piece still."
Images of how the man must have been tortured ran rampant through Jherek's mind. The instruments the pirate captain had laid out with such familiarity looked vicious enough to come straight from Cyric's darkest hells.
"Nor have I harmed him," Azla went on, "so your precious honor and integrity yet remain whole."
Jherek shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Glawinn asked that no harm come to Frennick when we returned to the ship," Azla said.
"Glawinn didn't tell me he'd asked that," Jherek told her, confused.
"No, nor did he want you to know until it was over."
Jherek grew angry but pushed it away. That lack of knowledge was something he intended to deal with the paladin about. He should have been told instead of spending time worrying over it.
"Pirates are a superstitious lot,"
Azla commented. "Despite all his blustering and bravado, Frennick is not a brave man. My ship's mage bewitched him, making him think we'd immersed his hand in a pot of acid till the flesh melted from his bones. Actually, it was a pot of water."
Two of the ship's crew marched Frennick up from the hold. The pirate captain swore venomously, calling down the spiteful rage of Umberlee on Azla, her ship, and her crew. When the crewmen threw him over the side, both the splash and Frennick's curses echoed around the ship. Relief filled Jherek, but it didn't take away the anger he felt toward Glawinn.
"Where is the disk?" the young sailor asked.
"Vurgrom has it."
"Does Frennick know where Vurgrom is?"
Azla shook her head. But he did know that Vurgrom used a diviner to learn what he could of the disk."
Jherek's heart sped up. "What did he learn?"
"Frennick wasn't allowed in the room. Only the diviner and Vurgrom were there. However, Frennick gave us the location of the diviner. She lives off the northeastern harbor of the Dragonisle."
"If we are not sailing there," Jherek said, "I need to know so I can make other arrangements."
Azla looked at him, her dark eyes flashing, and asked, "You would, wouldn't you?"
"Aye, Captain. I've no choice."
"You won't have to walk," she replied. "We're going to weigh anchor in a short while."
"Enter, young warrior."
Jherek slipped the lock on the door and let himself into the room.
Glawinn sat on the lowest of the bunk beds, crouched over so his head wouldn't bang against the upper berth as the ship gently pitched at anchor. An oil lantern hung from the ceiling over the small desk in the corner. The paladin was cleaning his armor, a task he tended to every day.
"You lied to me."
"No." Glawinn's eyes narrowed and became hard. Steel filled his voice. "You never accuse another man of lying unless you know that for a fact. Especially not a man of honor."
Shame burned Jherek's cheeks and ears. "My apologies." He tried to maintain his level gaze but had to drop it to the floor. "You didn't tell me that they weren't torturing Frennick."
"No."
"You let me believe they were."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You were comparing yourself to the wretches and scoundrels that populate that island like that was your destiny. Suddenly you were seeing yourself as no better than they are, doomed somehow to follow in your father's footsteps."
"They say the apple never falls far from the tree."
Then looking forward to a life as a pirate or a thief is something you deserve?"
"I never said that."
"Yes you did. You were pulling penance for Frennick. You looked out over Immurk's Hold and told me you couldn't see the difference between yourself and those men. Can you now?"
"Aye," Jherek said, his voice tight, "but I also see the difference between you and me."
"Do you believe that difference to be so great, young warrior?" Glawinn stood. Without his armor, he looked like only a man. Lantern light gleamed against the dark black of his hair and short-cropped beard.
"You're a paladin, chosen by a god to represent the covenants of his faith."
"Was I anything before I became a warrior for Lathander? Or was it Lathander who made me the man I am today?"
"I don't know."
"Tell me what is in your heart, young warrior," Glawinn said softly, his voice barely carrying across the small room. The waves slapping against the side of the ship outside the room underscored his words. "Tell me what you believe me to have been before I followed Lathander's teachings."
"You were a good man."
After a moment, Glawinn nodded. "My father was a knight before me, and my mother a good woman who learned the art of cheese making from her father. I am their get, and I wear Lathander's colors and fight the battles the Morninglord sets before me."
Jherek stared into the paladin's eyes, wondering for just a heartbeat if Glawinn was telling him this to make him feel worse.
"I was born one of twins," Glawinn said. "I have a sister. She was never a gentle child, and never easy on my parents. When she was seventeen, she left our home in Daggerdale and joined the Zhentarim."
Astonishment trailed cold fingers across Jherek's back. Even on the Sword Coast people knew the Zhentarim to be an organization of great evil.
"I was a boy when I fought at my father's side under Randall Morn against Malyk," Glawinn went on in a steady voice. "My sister, like many other Daggerdale citizens, felt that the Zhentarim would continue to hold the lands after the battles. Some thought only to hold onto their property, not caring who ruled them as long as they were allowed to follow their own lives. Cellayne-my sister-saw joining the Zhentarim as a chance to follow the dark nature that possessed her."
Footsteps passed beyond the door. Men's voices talked quietly. Eyes reddened with pain and glazed with memory, Glawinn turned to peer at the armor lying on the small bed.
"I've seen Cellayne twice in all these years," he said. "The last time she tried her best to kill me. Only by Lathander's grace was I spared. I lost two dear friends. Cellayne has immersed herself in the dark arts and become a necromancer. She's very powerful." The paladin tried to clear his thick voice but was unsuccessful. "As penance for daring to attack her in her stronghold near Darkhold, Cellayne… did something to my two fallen companions… set them on my trail. I destroyed the walking corpses of my friends. I know not what happened to their souls, though priests I've talked to since tell me that the good part of them knows peace."
"I'm sorry," Jherek whispered, knowing how feeble those words were.
"Lathander keeps me strong." Glawinn bowed his head for a moment, then turned to Jherek. "You need only believe, young warrior. Let your faith and your heart guide you, not your birth, not everything you've seen. Pursue that which you want, and a way of living that pleases and rewards you."
"There is nothing to believe in."
"So, for now at least, that is what you believe, young warrior, but to believe that there is nothing to believe in, is a belief itself." Glawinn smiled at his own circular logic. "Don't you see? If there was no belief in you, you would be like a piece of driftwood tossed out on the sea."
"Even driftwood finds a shore sooner or later," Jherek said.
A smile crossed Glawinn's face. "How much you know yet refuse to see. Truly, your stubbornness is as great as any I've ever witnessed." He crossed the room to stand in front of Jherek, then put his hands on the young sailor's shoulders and said, "When I look at you, I see a good man."
Unable to maintain eye contact, Jherek dropped his gaze to his boots.
"I only wish that you could see yourself through my eyes." Glawinn paused. "Or Sabyna's."
"I've got to go." Jherek couldn't stand there any more. It hurt too much.
The paladin pulled his hands away and said, "You won't be able to escape the doubts that fill you, young warrior. They only sound the emptiness that is within you. Belief is the only thing that will make you whole again."
Jherek held back hot tears. "If there was just something to hold to, I could," he said, "but there is nothing."
"Sabyna loves you, young warrior."
That single declaration scared Jherek more than anything else in his life.
"Even if that were true," he said hotly, "my father murdered her brother. She could never forgive me."
"For your father's sin?"
"A father's sins are visited on the son."
"Not everyone thinks so."
"I'd rather not talk about this."
"I told you I'd teach you to believe again, young warrior," Glawinn said, his voice carrying steel again, "and I will."
"You weren't able to rescue your sister."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jherek regretted it. Pain flashed in Glawinn's eyes.
"Now is not the time to speak of this," Glawinn said. "I see that." He turned and walked back to
his bunk, sitting and taking up his armor again. "Good night, young warrior."
Hesitating, Jherek tried desperately to find something to say, but couldn't. He had no head for it, and he didn't trust his tongue. His heart felt like bursting.
The sound of the scrubbing brush filled the room, drowning out the echo of the waves lapping at the ship's hull.
With a trembling hand, Jherek opened the door and left. There was nothing else to do.
V
6 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
Seated midway up Black Champion's rigging, Jherek stared hard out at the sunlight-kissed emerald green waters to the west. The Dragonisle maintained a steady distance to the southeast as the ship sailed north over slightly choppy waves, but the Earthspur towered over all. Below Jherek's position, the pirate crew worked steadily under Azla's watchful eye.
Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the wooden plate he held. Over half of the steamed fish and boiled potato chunks yet remained of his meal, long grown cold. He picked at the morsels with his fingers but found no interest. The worry and the headache that settled into the base of his skull and across his shoulders left him with no appetite.
Giving up on the meal, he gripped the edge of the plate and flung the contents into the wind, watching them fall the long distance down to the sea. An albatross wheeled and dived after them, managing to seize one of the chunks before it hit the water.
The rigging vibrated, drawing his attention. When he peered down, he saw Sabyna climbing up the rigging toward him.
"I didn't expect to find you up here," she said. "You're usually laboring about the ship."
"I wasn't feeling well."
Sabyna huddled expertly within the rigging, hooking her feet and leaning back so that her elbows held her as well. She gazed at him with concern and said, "Perhaps you should have stayed in bed."
Jherek shook his head.
