I am conflicted. There are feelings within my breast that I have not felt in years. I am being torn apart and I know not what to do.
I cannot lay my dilemma at any feet but my own. But I can record here the circumstances which have created it. For posterity, and perhaps to aid in my finding peace once more.
Our time in Bluebell ended with three discoveries. First, the body in the jail cell was a bansheeri elf of the Swamp Ghost tribe, dwellers of the swamp just west of the town. Second, there were not nearly enough bodies for all the missing people. And third, the brewery had a hole leading to a tunnel in the basement, and from the signs we found, there had been more than one person, at least one of whom was still alive at the time, dragged down into the dark beyond.
Of course we entered. The tunnel was long and narrow, and ended in a series of caverns which we eventually learned contained a shrine to Fenmarel Mestarine, god of the Swamp Ghosts. They were also infested by ghouls – former Swamp Ghosts, as we were later to discover.
We first encountered these ghouls when a group of them ambushed us. I was out slightly ahead of the others, and suddenly there were three ghouls slashing at me with their claws. I fended them off as best I could, but even with my allies’ help, I was beaten unconscious. When Gad brought me to, the last of the ghouls was fleeing deeper into the caverns.
Deeper, where an Abyssal fissure sat over an underground lake infested with more ghouls and with the fiend that created them. In a harrowing battle, we defeated them, but not without nearly losing several of our party. It was the fiend that brought Leo down, but Hector, his mind poisoned by the curse on his axe, cut down Aelin and Gad himself. I was able to slip away far enough that his berserk fury ended, and then back quickly enough to heal my fallen allies and prevent their deaths. It was, however, too close a call, so in that moment, I resolved to remove the accursed axe from Hector by any means necessary.
As I look back, I think this was the first seed of my current dilemma.
I spoke to Aelin, Leo and Gad, and they were of a like mind to me about Hector and his axe. We resolved to take it from him, as I believed that distance and time could do what he was unwilling to do otherwise. Our fighting in the town and subsequently the caverns had vastly exhausted Hector – his own particular style of fighting is more physically trying than most, though not without its benefits – so while he slept, I stole the axe from his hand and slipped it into the demiplane within Leo’s magical bag. Hector awoke shortly thereafter, and despite his fury at being parted with the axe, we managed to placate him and convince him that it had been stolen by a creature we were too rundown to pursue. The ruse has continued since, but due to the blackouts he experienced from his episodes, I fear he will not understand once he learns the truth.
Once we had rested and the fissure had been dealt with, we left the caverns via their original exit, a cave mouth that had been caved in but was easily cleared by Hector and Aelin. As we emerged into the swamps of Gnawbone’s Maw, we encountered a pair of Swamp Ghosts, evidently sentries watching the cave. It was they who first explained that the ghouls were their former kinsmen.
After they learned that we had cleared the caverns, the sentries insisted that we follow them to their village, to meet with their chieftain. Along the way, they told us a little of Gnawbone’s Maw, information which was compounded further later on.
Gnawbone’s Maw was named for Old Gnawbone, an ancient green dragon some several thousand years old. Her son, Geristigrius, the dragon Leo saw on our journey south, had been given the second Abyssal spike by Vixen and Brimscythe, and also warned that we were coming for it. He was also quite mad – when we met him, for met him we did, he spoke with more than once voice.
What the sentries did not explain to us we learned from their chieftain, Chief Himo, and their shaman, Drusila. The latter performed a ritual where she confirmed that Geristigrius had the spike, and alluded to the third and final spike as well, though she claimed her vision of its current holder was blocked. She also clarified a detail that I had been wondering for a while: that Leo’s power came from the Shadowfell.
We stayed the night at the Swamp Ghosts’ village, ending our meeting with Chief Himo by sharing the last of our Golden Dew.
The following morning, one of the Swamp Ghosts led us to Geristigrius’ lair, a great cavern not too far from the village. We entered, and found it full of foliage and ruins. Up on the ceiling, a hundred feet above us, we could see the spike embedded in the rock, and the black water leaking from the fissure it had created.
We also met the dragon.
He was invisible at first. I stepped forward to parley, as is my part, while the others spread out behind me, readying themselves to fight should things not go as planned. Once again, I should have known better. No other plan has gone the way I hoped since I joined this crew; I know not why I thought this one might.
I suspect I understand, as I look back, where the plan went awry. As I was taking charge of the negotiations, I assumed the others would follow my lead. Once again, I have been undermined by forgetting how aggressive my current companions are (Gad excepted, of course).
I began be entreating Geristigrius, and shortly after I spoke he appeared before me. I made efforts to appeal to his nature as a dragon, and offered to bargain with him for the spike. Despite his calling me stupid, which perhaps I am, all things considered, I made efforts to be polite and civil. One does not enter a dragon’s house and begin by insulting its master.
Or, rather, this one does not.
Geristigrius seemed to bore of me, or perhaps he sensed the darkness within my allies and found it more intriguing, for he quickly disappeared and reappeared by Leo. He asked what we could offer, and to my continuing surprise, Leo insulted him by stating that he is beholden to Vixen and Brimscythe, and the dark power they have gifted him. I was under the impression that Leo was a merchant before he joined this company, but if that was how he traded, I can understand why he retired. I would have expected better from someone with elven blood, even if it is drow. Must be the human side of him.
Leo continued on this tack despite Geristigrius grabbing and choking him and the warning tone in his voice. As if to compound things, Aelin chose that moment to outright insult the dragon. That, at least, did not surprise me. It was only Hector who chose not to speak to the dragon, for good or ill. That he stilled his tongue does not surprise me; that he stilled his axe does.
This is something I have noticed in all my companions, save, again, Gad. They are quick to insult, arrogant in their own abilities, and inconsiderate of the thoughts and feelings of those they encounter. From what I have seen, they thrive on violence. And yet, they are hesitant. They bait their foes into argument, and in argument, further bait them to violence. I have not yet seen them strike the first blow, but rather, over and over again, they have stoked the fire of rage in others until combat is inevitable. I do not know if they do this intentionally, nor even if they realise they do it at all.
Regardless, this time, the dragon struck the first blow. Opening his maw, he blew forth a cloud of poison. Hector was the only of us to be caught in it, and he emerged from the other side coughing, choking, but living.
I tried to entreat the dragon, to offer him any price he so chose for the spike, but even my rhetoric was not enough to convince him now that he had been so insulted. The others all began to attack, even as I spoke, and the dragon retaliated in kind.
Geristigrius released another cloud of poison, and this time all of us but Leo were caught by it. Gad fell where he stood, but the rest of us emerged. I felt my insides burning, my throat was on fire, and my eyes stung like the oceans had been strained through them. But I yet stood.
I made one last attempt to convince the dragon that violence was not the answer, for myself, I think, as much as for him, but my words fell on deaf ears. As the dragon crossed the cavern in pursuit of Leo, he of us who had, at this point, damaged him the most, vines grew from the ground and grasped onto my feet, rendering me immobile. I had not the strength to break free, as I watched Hector and Aelin charge the dragon and begin to hack at his tough hide.
We all of us were near death, having been caught by the poison, or badly damaged by Geristigrius’ monstrous teeth and claws. In that moment, helpless as I was, I was prepared to leave. I could have fled out past the entrance (which had been blocked after our arrival) and kept the knowledge that we had gathered from being lost in the belly of the beast. It would have meant abandoning the others to their fate, and while I felt no small amount of guilt over that thought, it is Gad for whom I was torn the most, for he, unlike the others, has shown himself to be a creature after my own heart, and did not deserve to be left so heartlessly. I do feel, at this moment, that had he not been with us, I would have left, and abandoned the others to the beast that challenged them, and to the devils within their own hearts.
This is not right. I swore an oath to be a light for people just such as they, and yet, in the moment it mattered the most, I was prepared to abandon them. The guilt I feel is not only over this moment of pragmatic desire, but also over the justification I felt I would have had to take such action. Justification I still feel, even now.
Their, and perhaps my, saving grace was that the dragon was also badly wounded. I resolved to give them one last chance, for Gad’s sake more than any other’s, and commanded Geristigrius to grovel. My lady was with me, and the dragon collapsed to the ground, giving the others the moment they needed to slay him. Hector took his head, and the beast lay still.
Geristigrius was mad. He was allied with the daemons my lady herself has sent me to stop. And he was a green dragon, which are, supposedly, inherently evil. And yet, our victory over him feels hollow. What we did in his lair felt wrong. We entered seeking the spike, and had Geristigrius not been provoked, I believe we could have left with it, without conflict. My belief that all creatures are not irredeemable, no matter how vile their actions, is being tested from a source I never believed it would be. It is being tested by my own companions.
We retrieved the spike, yes, a good deed in of itself. And yet, it was only through the death of another that we did so, when there was a viable alternative. Are my allies villains? No, I do not believe it so. Yet, there is no denying, their actions have been villainous.
Perhaps this is a test, perhaps Hector, Aelin and Leo have been placed in my path so that they may not fall too deeply down the darker path. If that is the case, I fear it is a test I am failing. The emotions they have brought out of me cannot be a sign of anything else.
I am exasperated. Disappointed. Fearful. Regretful. Furious. There is a rage building inside me. I am angry at myself, for failing. I am angry at my companions, for their thirst for blood. I am angry at myself that I am angry at my companions, for it is not my place to judge others, merely guide and assist where I can. It is like a vicious circle, never-ending, the serpent of rage within me biting its own tail.
Those feelings terrify me, for when next I close my eyes to dream, I know not the elf that will be behind them when they open. I fear for the soul of the Makepeace who wakes upon the morrow.