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Judas	By : BronxWench Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights 2 and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2
She surveyed the carnage that had been the courtyard of Crossroads Keep. The Sword of Gith hung at her side, its radiance undimmed despite her desperate battle with the nightwalker unleashed by Garius. All around her, Greycloaks were moving with quiet efficiency, gathering the wounded and dispatching any remaining undead, while Ivarr's clerics kept up a steady stream of prayers to Tyr for healing.
“So many dead,” she whispered. She swayed, staggered and nearly fell, as a hand caught her arm and steadied her. She looked around to find Casavir, his eyes shadowed by fatigue and his armor encrusted with gore.
“My lady, you are wounded,” he said, his deep voice calm and as comforting as ever. “Let me help you to your quarters, and send for a cleric.”
She looked down, confused, and finally registered the blood which trickled sluggishly down her side. With awareness came pain, and she hissed as she felt the dull throb of poison. She reached up to touch her periapt, relieved to feel the tingle of its magic as it activated, countering the effects of the poison.
“Do not trouble the clerics,” she murmured. “My 'Cloaks need the prayers and potions more than I do.”
Casavir frowned, still holding her arm gently. “Then at least let me help you to your quarters.”
“As you will, my friend.” She looked up at the paladin and managed a hint of a smile. “I will not deny that I am weary.” She leaned on Casavir, taking his arm and finding comfort in his strength as they crossed the courtyard. She stumbled once, twice as they climbed the rise to the Keep itself. She stopped just outside the doors, and released Casavir's arm. He watched her draw herself up, willing herself to walk unaided into the Keep. He began to step forward to offer her his support, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him before he began.
“Let her do this alone,” Kana said softly. “She needs to be strong for those within.” Casavir made no reply, his frown answer enough.
Inside the Keep she paused, unable to mask her anguish. The Great Hall had been converted to an infirmary, and the sheer number of wounded staggered her. She walked through the ranks of men, elves, dwarves, lizardmen–her people and her allies. Many she greeted by name, pausing to praise their valor and honor. Each smile seemed like a new wound, until at last she turned down the hall to her quarters, determined not to let the tears fall until she was alone.
Casavir waited outside the door to the Knight-Captain's quarters like a living barricade. Even Kana was turned away, until her terrible grief burned itself out. Only then did the paladin dare to knock softly.
“My lady? May I enter?” Casavir asked. “If it matters, I am quite alone.”
The door opened, and Casavir could not hide his look of concern. She was so very pale, her eyes bruised with fatigue, her hair matted and snarled as though she had been tugging at it. Wordless, she turned and crossed to the armoire against the wall, removing a coat of mithral chain mail that glowed with subtle enchantments. She tossed it on her bed, followed swiftly by a clean tunic and breeches.
“I brought a potion, my lady. Both Sand and Grobnar have made nothing else for hours now, so there is sufficient.” Casavir held out the flask. “It will not replace the rest you so sorely need, but time is not our ally this day.”
She took the flask, unstopping it and drinking down the contents in one fluid motion. Her eyes closed briefly as the healing magic took effect, and she sighed with relief.
“Thank you, dear friend. What news?” She stepped behind a screen and began tossing out pieces of her battered armor. Her tunic, stiff with her blood, followed along with boots and breeches. He heard her sigh in pleasure as she slipped into the waiting bath.
“Aldanon has unlocked the Tome, it seems, and preparations are being made for us to pursue Garius to his master's side.” Casavir rummaged in the armoire, adding bracers and a belt to the pile on the bed. He retrieved her boots from the discarded items, and began to fill her pack with additional potions. “Nevalle believes it is best if you take only those of us who have been your companions.” It was a mark of his anger that he omitted any title when referring to Lord Nasher's second.
“Did you expect otherwise?” she asked, not bothering to hide her own bitterness. “It has been in my mind for some time that we are all expendable. I have accounted for it, in fact.”
Casavir frowned. He had never heard the Captain speak so harshly before, and he was disconcerted. For the briefest of moments, he heard echoes of the traitor Bishop in her voice. For reasons she would never share, she had trusted the ranger and sought his company as they traveled. Casavir had warned against him, to no avail. Perhaps his own mistrust had driven her into Bishop's arms, or perhaps it was some misguided attempt to save the ranger from himself. Casavir would never know, and he wrenched his thoughts back to the present, uneasy.
“I will admit that I am not as surprised as I could have been,” Casavir said slowly. “But you speak as though you always knew.”
“To rule is to accept that you will use others for your own ends. Lord Nasher rules Neverwinter, and to preserve his realm he would sacrifice any and all of us without hesitation. We are tools, Casavir. No noble vows to liege or temple shield us from that fact.” She stepped out from behind the screen wrapped in a drying sheet, her black hair sleek once again.
“In my training at the temple, such words would have been accounted treason.” His clear blue eyes were troubled. “My lady, are you suggesting that we refuse to go?”
She looked up at Casavir, and a ghost of a smile formed on her lips. She reached out to touch his face. “My poor Casavir,” she said softly. “How much has been asked of you, and how much more will I ask?” She let her hand fall away, and turned to dress, heedless of his presence. He looked away, his cheeks hot. “We will go through Aldanon's portal, and we will bring this battle to the King of Shadows himself. But Casavir, we do this for all the people of Faerûn as you did back at Old Owl Well, not solely for the glory of Lord Nasher or of Neverwinter.”
Casavir sighed in relief and gratitude. “My place will be at your side, my lady.”
“I very much fear so, my friend, and it may well cost you your life.” She gave her mail a last adjustment, settling the belt around her slim waist, and reached for her shield and the sword. “I have known for some time that my life is forfeit. I am one with this thrice-damned sword, and should it fail again, I fail with it.” She took her pack, weighted with potions. “I shall endeavor not to fail, however. I have taken certain measures to aid us, and I have to believe that I chose wisely.”
“And what measures are those?” Casavir asked warily. “I trust you have not sought the aid of Ammon Jerro's former minions.”
She laughed, but there was no mirth in her. “I have not stooped to summoning demons, you may rest assured of that.” She shook her head as she continued. “You are a paladin, Casavir. There is no deception or duplicity in you. Indeed, the very idea of betrayal is almost beyond you.” Her eyes narrowed, her expression revealing a fierce anger. “I am not so bound, by oath or by inclination. Nasher has been tied to his throne for too long. In his arrogance, he has forgotten lessons he should have learned during the war with Luskan. He has forgotten that a blade may cut both ways.”
Casavir suppressed an urge to shudder. Unbidden, a recollection surfaced, of a night in the Flagon. Bishop, in his sneering way, had mocked Casavir for his devotion to his Captain. He had said she was a blade hidden in shadow, and she would cut a man's still-beating heart from him with no warning if she felt it was necessary. In his memory, Bishop almost seemed to relish the thought, and Casavir felt a chill creep over him. He too remembered the war with Luskan, and a servant of Neverwinter who had turned against Lord Nasher.
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Judas