Beautiful Music
Imoen stared expressionlessly at the makeshift grave. It had been hard going through all her tears, but a decent burial was the least she could do. The least she could do for someone she had killed.
The first. It was the first time she had killed someone. She’d had no choice. She really hadn’t. But no matter how many times she told herself that she couldn’t believe it. She must have had a choice. She was a monster.
Her eyes pricked with moisture and she almost laughed hysterically. The last of her tears had been hours ago. And she’d been afraid they would be her last ever. So afraid she would never be able to feel... anything... again.
The young gnome bard sat at the fire with her back to the entrance of their cave shelter. She looked over the flickering flames at her sister, wet and shivering just as she was. “Why did you follow me, Imoen?”
Imoen gave her a scandalized look. “What kind of question is that? Of course I followed you, we’re like sisters! Stick with you until you say otherwise, I will.”
“Otherwise,” the bard was strongly tempted to say, but restrained herself. “But I am a murderer,” she said instead.
“What?! No you’re not!”
“I am.”
“No! Don’t pay any heed to what those morons at Candlekeep are saying! You killed a man defending yourself; that doesn’t make you a murder!”
“You don’t understand,” the bard shook her head.
“I do, and I’m right! Now we just gotta find who killed Gorion, and...”
The bard shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I liked it.”
“What?”
“It was beautiful. Killing him... it made beautiful music,” the bard said, looking into the fire with a glazed look in her eyes.
“But... but you said–"
“Much better music than the second.”
“Second?”
The bard looked back at Imoen. “The man who tried to kill me was only the second. Only the second time my sword tasted intelligent blood.”
“What?! No! You... you said you wouldn’t listen to the music anymore! You promised! You promised Gorion!”
“Tried. I tried. It wanted me to hurt more than birds and rats, and I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t fight it. It’s so beautiful.”
“You can fight it!”
“I can’t. It’s so beautiful. I want to hear it again.”
“No, you don’t! You don’t want to hear it, and you can fight it, and I can help you!” Imoen shouted desperately.
“You can help me,” the bard nodded. Imoen was momentarily stunned by the seemingly sudden change of heart, but then the bard continued. “You can kill me.”
“WHAT?!!” Imoen screeched. “NO!!”
“Yes. I want to hear the music. Kill and kill and kill and hear the beautiful music. And I wonder why I don’t. Why I sit here in this cave instead of hunting and killing. I forget why killing is bad and I have to remind myself. Soon I won’t be able to remember no matter how hard I try.” She looked directly into Imoen’s eyes, and for that brief moment she looked completely sane. “I am becoming a monster. I don’t want to be a monster. Help me. Kill me. Let me die with some shred of myself intact.”
“N-n-no! Th-there’s got to be another way! You can’t ask me to...”
“I am not asking. You have no choice.”
Imoen scowled through her tears. “Of course I do!”
“No, you don’t,” she said as one hand closed on the hilt of her sword. “Killing you will make beautiful music, too. I know it will.” She began to draw the heavy curved blade from its sheath. “And I want to hear it.”
“W-what?!” Imoen leapt to her feet, the bard following suit. “No! Fight it! Please, you can fight this!”
“I can’t. I want to hear the music. I have to. But... but you can’t let me.” She walked around the fire with her sword held ready in both hands, slowly advancing on Imoen. “Please don’t let me, Imoen,” she begged, flames reflecting off sudden tears. “Please don’t let me hear it.”
Her small hands went through Gorion’s robes, finding a pouch of coins and a letter. The letter held a warning of danger. Danger that threatened her, specifically. Danger Gorion intended to warn her of, if he’d only had the chance. If only the great slashing wounds across his chest hadn’t taken that chance away.
She stood up and put her sword back in its sheath, still covered in his blood. She did not have time to clean it. She would have to leave Candlekeep quickly to avoid discovery. As she turned and darted down the stairs two at a time, her mind occupied itself trying to put notes to the beautiful song she heard as she killed her father.