Chapter 1:

Discovery

There are many ways to motivate a person, but the easiest is fear. What sensible person would not do anything to preserve themselves or their possessions? But to convince them of this need, they must fear the alternative. If you can create it, fear will bend even the gods to your will. But there is one being on whom you must never use fear, and that is yourself. The strongest motivations come from within, and fear is an external motivation. Fear cannot save you from the thing you fear, and thus it is redundant. Bend others to your will, and never be bent to theirs.

By the time that the sun finally began to rise from the horizon, Artemis was miles away from The Drizzt, feet burning as if they were bare on the hot sand of the Calim Desert, rather than clad in leather boots in the wet hinterland of the Sword Coast. Artemis sighed to himself, ruing the turn of events that had led him here, to the dismal and dreary north, on the run from the authorities, and murdering innocent travelers in roadside inns. Sometimes a person just didn't want to join the family business. Not that his father had given him much choice.

He hadn't been anything special, really, before the incident. He had always been a little different, but not really special. The bastard child of the disgraced daughter of a noble family, it hadn't been the easiest upbringing, especially since his mother was the last of the line. It was an awkward position for a child to be in, caught between the hatred directed towards a bastard child with an unknown father, and the expectations placed on the illegitimate heir to the family wealth and fortune. His name had been the only thing he'd had of his father, and his mother would tell him nothing more about the man she'd met only once. His grandparents had not been kind, so young Artemis had stayed to himself, spending time only in his room, or with his tutors.

It had all changed twenty-two years after he had been born. The first Artemis had known was when he woke up, in an unknown location. He shuddered as he remembered opening his eyes and the dull gleam of a sword filling his vision, sharp point inches from his nose. Following the straight edge of the sword, along the arm of the man holding it, and tracing the muscular lines of the man's neck with his eyes, he had gasped. It was as if an older version of himself had come back in time to threaten him.

Lost in the memory, Artemis lost his footing on the uneven road, barely more than a dirt track, and fell forward, crying out as he hit the ground. His right arm tingled as he landed heavily on the elbow instead of on the forearm covered by a sturdy leather bracer. He thought about standing, but quickly decided better of it, and simply lay in the road, the light rain slowly soaking through his clothes. He knew he had somewhere to go, but he couldn't remember why. It was so cozy, so warm. Why would he want to go anywhere? What was he thinking? Why would he want to leave his warm tower room, the comfy armchair, the blazing fire, the blankets?

Artemis awoke to the sound of screaming, and warmth spreading from his back, radiating through his body. His back began to tickle, and he tried to shift slightly to get more comfortable, but found himself unable to move. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he tried to clear the tiredness from his mind. The pain hit him like a wave crashing over the bow of a small fishing vessel, breaking it apart and crushing the fishermen. His back was on fire, nerves screaming at him to do something, to get away, that he was in mortal peril. With detachment, Artemis noted that the screaming he was hearing was coming from his own mouth, and that his hands were bound above his head, all of his weight pulling down on his wrists and through his elbows. Finally, he opened his eyes.

In front of him was the man who haunted his nightmares. The man was not tall, but neither was he short. Even standing motionless, as he was now, hands resting on the pommels of his weapons, the man looked ready to strike. Grey eyes seated deep into his face showed no movement, yet this man seemed supremely aware of everything in the area. The face was expressionless, any color hidden by the thick, short stubble. It was like looking in a mirror. Or it would have been if Artemis were older and far, far more dangerous. He tried to cringe away from his father, but his muscles would not respond. There was a sickening wet crunch as the whip, wielded by an unknown torturer, cut into his back again, and Artemis mercifully fell out of consciousness.

It was hours until Artemis once again awoke, and this time he found himself able to move. He stretched cautiously, wincing at the pain from his back. Probing with his fingers, he found that he had been bandaged well. A bitter taste in the back of his throat told him that he had also been force fed a restorative potion to aid with the healing process at some point while he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Artemis longed to go back to sleep, but he knew that staying asleep would not be helpful. Gingerly, he rolled off the pile of straw on which he had been sleeping, and raised himself to his feet. The room that he was in was dark, but it seemed large and open. He guessed it had probably once been a barn. At the moment it was filled with sleeping bodies. Artemis crossed the room slowly, stepping lightly to avoid waking anyone.

Once out of the room, Artemis could finally see where he was. Torches were hung from stone walls, giving a low level of light to a long corridor. Memory served him well, and soon Artemis was approaching the quarters of his father, padding almost silently on his bare feet. Before he could raise his hand to open the door, a low murmur reached his ears from the other side of the solid oak door. A rasping voice was speaking, seemingly angry, but too quietly for Artemis to understand. The rasping voice stopped, and the clear tones that spoke in his nightmares began. These words Artemis could understand perfectly. "My son should not be alive. But rest assured General, I will break him." Artemis felt his head spinning, and almost didn't notice the footsteps making their way towards him. He spun away from the door and flattened himself against the wall as the hinges creaked. Surely he would be discovered.

Artemis felt the wall behind him dissolve away. Suddenly there were rough hands on his shoulders, and he had to force himself not to cry out as he was pulled backwards. The hands let go as quickly as they had grabbed him, and as he stumbled and fell, Artemis watched his father pull what seemed to be a circle of black fabric from the wall. Artemis couldn't help flinching as his father turned towards him. "Are you insane? What could possibly possess you to attempt to spy on the most powerful warlord on the Sword Coast?" His father didn't raise his voice, but Artemis could feel the power in his tone, and the anger was visible in the way he held his body, muscles more taut than ever. His father continued to speak. "Do you have a death wish? That man would kill you without a second thought, and you decide to provoke him, to put yourself within arms' reach? I'm trying to protect you, and this is how you repay me?"

Artemis couldn't believe what he was hearing. Rage overpowered his fear, and even his desire for self-preservation. His back screamed with pain as he raised himself to his feet, and he drew on the pain to feed his anger as he screamed at his father. "You're trying to protect me? Don't lie to me! I heard what you said! You want me dead, you want to break me! How many times have you already tried to kill me? What's stopping you? Just kill me already!" He began to continue his tirade, but, as he tried to draw breath, his vision blurred and he collapsed. The last thing he felt was his body slowly dropping to the cold stone floor.


Author's Note: Hi. Thanks for reading. Yeah.