Chapter 4: Tamoko

I wish Sarevok didn't wear his armor so often.

With it on, he looks exactly as he wishes to; a dark, terrifying figure, who could swoop out of the night and end you at any time, obscured so that you only see his towering strength and golden eyes. So many have died filled with terror and dread, looking into them.

But when I see him, as a man, without his plate shell, I see something different in those eyes. I see passion, real passion and love. I see a self-assurance, a confidence that many across the Sword Coast could only envy. Yet, sometimes I also see doubt, insecurity, as on this night, as we stand waiting in the forests outside of Candlekeep.

"My love, do you fear Gorion and his ward so? You look as if-" I reach a hand out towards him.

He raises a hand of his own, as if to block mine. Dark skin creases, his brow furrowing. "I fear nothing! No one! A god would say as much." Yet, he shakes his head. Even if it's subconscious, he doesn't fully believe.

Gorion, as the Iron Throne has come to learn, was a powerful mage, a member of the Harpers, an allegedly neutral organization full of those trying to maintain balance in this world through their deeds. He adventured for many years before adopting children of his own and retiring to Candlekeep's once-secure walls. If there was a man in Faerûn who could defeat Sarevok, end his terrible quest for dvinity, it was him.

His child, his son, Bryce, however, remains something of a mystery. He rarely ventured outside of the walls, but was, according to reports, a skilled swordsman, able to defeat the initial group of assassins sent for him. That fact is why we're here now, my love, myself, an archer, and two ogres recruited for the cause. Would we be enough? Would my love die in my arms? It was not a thought I cared to entertain.

He suddenly looked up. With a resolute exhale, he donned his helmet, no longer Sarevok Anchev, the man who held me so close just a few hours ago. Now, he was Sarevok, leader of the Iron Throne, a mortal man infused with the divine essence of a god, willing to go to any lengths to take what he believed was his rightful place in the heavens above. "They are here." Was all he said, and then we knew to move.

We emerged from trees, thickets, and under-shrub, the five of us. The two ogres in front, myself and an archer in the back, and Sarevok in the middle, visible even between the ogres' monstrously huge bodies. He seemed to rise above them, even though he couldn't have been half their height.

The voice of an old man rung out through the night. "Bryce, I'll explain everything when there's time, but for now, listen carefully; if we ever become separated, head to the Friendly Arm Inn." Then the voice, the movement I heard just a second or two ago stopped suddenly. "Wait, something's wrong; an ambush."

Then, they appeared before us, Gorion and Bryce. The mage in dark grey robes, and his ward in plate armor, looking, for all his youth and visibly green skin, like he belonged next to one of the most powerful mages to ever live.

Sarevok stepped forward. The ogres made way for him. "Perceptive, for an old man. I'll make this simple; hand over your ward, and no one here has to be hurt. If you persist, it will be a waste of your life!" An ultimatum; how he usually dealt with things. The question is, doesn't he know that Gorion would never –

"You're a fool if you think I would trust your benevolence!" Exactly my point. He would never simply 'hand over his ward.' He's trying to provoke him. Why? Why does he go to such risk? "Stand aside, and you and your lackeys won't be killed!" An ultimatum to match his. Here's the answer to my question. He knows exactly what to say.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, old man." Just like that, he jerks his head towards the two, and we explode into conflict.

Bryce draws twin swords from twin sheathes; hand and a half swords, otherwise known as bastard swords. Normally, you would choose to wield one with both hands, but it seems he's strong enough to hold them with one. He's my responsibility, according to the plan. His eyes flick from Gorion to us, settling on myself and our archer. Instinctually, he seemed to understand the flow of the fight from the moment it started. Perceptive as his foster father, it appeared.

He runs hard to his left, forcing the archer and I's attention his way; the battle, having just begun, was already split into two halves. I glanced at the ogres charging Gorion. With a flick of each wrist, the ogres were cut down almost as swiftly as they approached him, an arrow of acid and a bolt of lightning striking each down. Sarevok simply watched. Just like him; use the tools as his disposal to weaken the enemy before he struck the final blow. We were merely pawns for Gorion to waste spells and Bryce to consume energy. Our archer, undeterred, drew and fired swiftly. One, two, three arrows.

Bryce tucked and rolled to avoid one, and held up arms covered in plate. His arms stiffened from the effort, but the remaining arrows cracked and splintered on impact. He was no simpering fool wasting his youth away on books. It seems our reports were accurate.

I barely had time to begin an attack of my own. A magical fireball flew towards us. Another of Gorion's spells. My eyes widened, and I dove for cover. Rolling out of my dive, I managed to make it behind a nearby boulder. The ground shook, and all around me, it grew hot like an oven baking. It passed in a wave, and the air seemed to simmer and steam afterwards. Slowly, carefully leaning out of my cover, I heard "Run! Get out of here!"

Our archer was reduced to a pile of charred ash, as was the site of the impact. Sarevok drew his greatsword, hefted it with both hands, and slowly moved towards Gorion. Bryce halted in place; probably deciding whether to listen to the wise words of the man who raised him, or fight and die alongside him. I would make that decision easy. Calling forth a spell of my own, I duck back behind the rock as I chant. I would only get one shot at this. I had to either kill Bryce, or wound him so that he could no longer resist us.

"Facio…Voco…Ferre!"

The fire formed between my hands. I took a deep breath. Rushing out from behind my cover, I threw it towards my quarry. He had started running towards Gorion and Sarevok, so my aim was off by just a few inches. He turned to me too late, and the fire singed his shoulder, nearly melting the plate right off it.

At the same time, Gorion was backing away from Sarevok, throwing every remaining spell he had at him. Surrounded by identical copies, mirror images of himself, he threw missiles of pure magical energy, more lightning bolts and arrows of acid, anything the Art would let him produce. It was not enough to even break my love's stride. Walking right up to the mage, he swung his giant blade horizontally, vivisecting and dispelling his copies.

With no spells left to fight with, Gorion drew a dagger, holding it sidelong in his left hand, parallel to his right palm just behind it. He looked fiercely determined; admirable, considering how outmatched he was, in terms of sheer physical strength and size. Sarevok stopped in place.

"What did I say, old man? A waste of your life." He taunted, readying his sword for the final blow.

"Defending my son, defending the Realms, from your villainy…I could think of no greater end." Were his final words; Sarevok crushed his attempt at a parry, throwing the dagger away, and running him through. Gorion gasped, grunted.

I turned to Bryce, who was already sprinting away as fast as he could. He melted into the long shadows cast by the trees, disappearing into darkness. With a heavy heart, all I could think of was my own failure. Gorion's might not be the last death on this sorrowful evening.

Sarevok pushed Gorion's body off his sword, onto the ground, then flicked his blade, throwing off his enemy's blood, and turned towards me, sheathing his sword. "Where is he?" He growled.

"He escaped in the chaos, my love. I'm sorry." I said, kneeling before my lover, my lord, a man whose actions and words I could rarely predict when we weren't in the heat of battle. He might lop my head off here and now, for all I know.

Instead, he merely looked past me, deep into the night. I watched his eyes move from one section of the forest to another. He folded his arms over his broad, armored chest.

"It was not entirely your fault. I underestimated Gorion and his ward. We will find my other brothers and sisters. But I will remember this, Tamoko. I will remember your failure. Come, let us be off." He turned away and began walking through shadows of his own. I stood, wavering, unsure of whether to follow. I love him, with all of my heart.

But with that armor on, on his quest for ascension by any means, Sarevok is not an easy man to love.