The narrative continues. So far, both Josias Tyghe and Harlous Yulin — old friends and equally zealous practitioners of the arcane and divine powers respectively — have entered into a friendly discourse, one long overdue. However, they have a much more pressing concern to discuss: the future and how they are each involved. Any prediction seems hazy and vague (as they usually are), and the two old friends try to decipher the clues while revisiting each other’s company.
PRELUDE, Chapter 2: Things to Come
(continued…)
“This is ridiculous,” began Tyghe, “our friendship and old stories… this isn’t a social visit as we both know. So we must put that aside for now. I’ve seen things, Yulin. My scryers have felt tremors in the Earthloom. Something’s coming. Something big.”
“Indeed. My invokers have felt the same. But my senses are dulled to it. It’s faceless. I don’t suppose…” Yulin paused and swallowed his pride. “I don’t suppose you’ve beheld a visage or a symbol?”
“Alas, no. Our visions lack identity as well.”
Tyghe resisted the urge to make a mocking comment about praying to Pelor and perhaps having him shed “light” on the subject. After a retort about Tyghe’s atheism, Yulin would then propose a series of questions to spark a debate about the merits of devotion over scholarship. The two would then pass away the hours, discussing and bantering while the rest of the world rushed around them. They would empty bottles of wine and drain flagons of mead and shut the bar down. Maybe they would even sneak in some pepperclear, a potent alcohol intensified by spicy vine peppers from the island regions. But not today. The time for levity certainly had passed now.
“It’s as if the force that haunts us currently purposefully has no face… or at least hasn’t chosen one yet,” Tyghe said.
“Hrm… perhaps,” Yulin responded, drowning another tan goblet of wine — apparently he wasn’t so uneasy as to avoid drinking and eating. Yulin cleared his throat for a kind of pronouncement. “A purposefully hidden enemy strikes with the advantage.”
Tyghe scoffed and returned, “Yulin, seriously, maybe save the Brotherhood’s articles of defense for a conference or proselytizing of ignorant villagers. For once. Just for once, let down your guard, friend!” Tyghe paused and sat back in his iron chair. “Wait.” He leaned back in, more intently observant of Yulin’s facial reaction. “Why are you here today?”
Yulin stared at his old friend’s face for a minute, letting chair leg scrapes and silver utensil clinks fill the air. He looked down at the table and began fiddling with his goblet. “You know — no matter how far from the Brotherhood you’ve strayed — that you made a lifepact, Josias.” Yulin looked back into Tyghe’s eyes with blazing sincerity. “Are you prepared to receive her? Protect her? Get her ready for the task at hand?”
“I haven’t forgotten my oath, Harlous. And, yes, I’m ready. Born so.”
“Are you ready to give up your–”
“Are you?” interrupted Tyghe.
Another moment of muted staring passed.
“It pains me to admit it,” finally began Yulin, “but clearly not as prepared as you. Whatever alacrity you’ve gained since your leaving seems to serve you well, better than my clenching to ancient procedures.” Tyghe briefly looked to his left and back toward Yulin, expressing his embarrassment that all the pressure he was feeling just outed a dear friend. “Don’t feel sorry. Be proud of your steeled reserve. The only things I’d give my life for are long dead. Yours aren’t even born yet.”
Then, with a barely audible whisper, Yulin said, “How sad is that?”
Tyghe attempted to launch into a pitiful apology, but Yulin cut him off, asking, “How far along is she?”
Tyghe swallowed his words and scientifically recited, “Helena De Marco is five months pregnant with the General’s daughter.”
“And we’re sure he’s turned? We’re certain he will return and try to bring… her… into this world?”
“Without a doubt.”
“I can’t imagine what that place is like. The Barony-General, living in the Shadowfell. In audience with… with… her. Preposterous.”
“It’s the only way, Harlous. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to end up a mindless ghoul of Orcus’.” Tyghe leaned back in, dragging Yulin closer with his genuine severity. “Furthermore, don’t ever let my life — my choices — make you think that I’m any less devoted to this cause. We’re two sides of the same coin, friend. You’ve always been okay being hated.” Tyghe sat back in his seat and turned his head to the sky. “Please don’t let your indifference destroy you.”
“My indifference,” began Yulin, “has kept me alive. And as for being hated, someone has to do the dirty work of maintaining balance. I don’t love my god because he is a god, Josias. I love him because he knows he’s a god… and doesn’t interfere.” Tyghe looked back at his friend again, this time with a modicum of deference. “I still can’t figure out how you know they’re up there but refuse to acknowledge their interference. If all this ends the way the repetitions of history predict, then my god — may he shine on us eternally, will be waiting at the door, ready to walk with me into the next life. Not as me. That is why my stomach turns at the thought of the General’s ‘plan.’ That and the fact that it’s totally feasible in the world of the divine. So, as before, save your agnostic pleas for those with less respect for the will of the gods.”
To be continued…
All images are copyright of the artists.
[Tales of the Sundered Bastion]
All Dungeons & Dragons references and images are copyright of Wizards of the Coast, LLC.
Narrative material and story are copyright of Robert C. Beshere.