II

(Arc I: Spellhold, Chapter II)

The knife was inches away from her fingers, glinting under the dim light.

Khalid was holding his shield high, deflecting Sarevok's onslaught of blows as if he were a fierce warrior that never doubted himself in a battle. With a furious roar, Jaheira joined her husband, smashing down on Sarevok's head with her club and putting a dent into the metal.

This seemed to stun the massive warrior, giving Khalid plenty of room to smash Sarevok with his shield and strike for the weak place in-between where the breastplate and shoulders of Sarevok's armour connected. Imoen dove from the shadows then and slammed her knives into a similar weak spot in the back part of his armour.

Sarevok grunted in pain, the dazed state he had been in finally wearing off. He swung at Khalid, the tip of his massive sword bouncing off of the half-elf's armour and forcing him back. He then spun, and simple luck shined that Jaheira had begun to move away and Imoen threw herself to the floor and rolled away, sparing the former from a more serious injury and the latter from any.

He turned to Nimue then. "Your dear "brother" may have saved you for a few moments, but he cannot save you now!"

She, however, did not look at them. Instead, she was staring at her twin's body. Ruby life pooled around his crumpled, headless form, but her eyes truly did not see for her vision had become unfocused. To the others, her silver eyes looked like if they had become like that of a doll- glass and devoid of all emotion. Almost downright creepy.

An arrow shot from the other side of the room smacked into the back of Sarevok's helm. It struck hard despite not piercing the metal, but it was just enough to get Sarevok's attention. Their heavily armoured opponent turned away from Nimue, and faced the last of the group.

The elf ranger's hood had fallen, long dark hair pouring out. His dark eyes framed by the blue tattoos and blood spatter upon his face were completely calm. He slung his bow back over his shoulder and grabbed his sword, flipping the red-soaked blade over in his hands casually.

"Ah, so the foolish elf has decided to join the party as well," Sarevok said, laughing. He nodded to the ogre's body near the elf, numerous arrows and spear gouges in the flesh of the corpse. "Tazok told me about you. He always laughed when he reached the part of your story when your wife squealed as he cut off her ears. Too bad you killed him yet again."

There wasn't even a question or a cry of rage. He simply gave a blank stare at Sarevok, like he had no purpose any longer, and stepped forward. Impatience took the heavily armoured man, and lifting his sword, he charged at Kivan.

Nimue looked away from her brother's body and to his knife that had fallen in front of her. She had never carried one, even when Tris had tried to teach her. "I read a single drawn blade could scare Lliira and her favour away!" she had shouted at him as a child. Tristan had just scoffed at her and would throw his hands up, leaving.

"Your loss! You'll need to know one day- you'll see!" he had shouted.

She reached her hand out and clasped her hand around the hilt. Her fingers shook; she wasn't sure why. She looked like a tiny, trembling child as she lifted it, glancing at the sharpened edges. There were nicks and scratches, but the surface was smooth. It was a testament to the fact Tris had loved this knife. He had taken it off of a shipment that had come into Candlekeep a few months after they turned eleven and had always used it after.

Shakily, Nimue stood, blankly looking at the battle carrying the knife in her hand. She knew she was supposed to keep the point downwards, but much more than that, she wasn't sure. In her small hands, it looked awkward, and if she fell with it, she was more than likely to impale herself upon the blade.

Khalid and Jaheira rejoined the fray. Imoen leapt on Sarevok's back with a shout, ripping off his helm before the massive man flipped her over his shoulder, forcing the others to back off for a moment if they did not wish to harm one of their companions as Imoen fell and slammed to the ground.

Before Sarevok could do anything to harm her, Khalid was there blocking the blow with his shield. His arm was shaking. Sweat was pouring off of Jaheira's brow. Imoen was slow getting back to her feet and wobbled. Kivan, even though he had just joined the fight with Sarevok, had nearly singlehandedly killed Tazok once more, and it was beginning show wear as he moved slower. They did not have much left.

"Look for the weak spots," she heard Tris saying in her mind, only a few months before. "Even if you're just using that staff or your sling, you can hurt somebody if you know where the weak spots are."

She had lost her sling not long into their journey under the city. Her staff was lying on the other side of the room, cast from her after she had unknowingly had come too close to the melee. The knife she had in her hands was all she had. She could see Sarevok's neck openly exposed now that Imoen had torn his helm off...

The light here was odd. It was a bloody red, like the sun was rising on a stormy morn, but there was no sun here. No, the only things here were the empty blackness of the abyss and the twinkling pinpricks of the stars.

Nimue shook. She felt colder. She was lonely too. It hurt too much to go back though. At least here, she could remember her friends' names. Her own name. Her home.

Home.

The word made her eyes sting with salt and water. For years, she had longed to leave it, to see the storybook world she had painted in her mind that awaited her outside. The world the mother she had never known had come from, the world her father had taken her from. When papa had told Tristan and her to gather only the things they needed and that they were leaving Candlekeep, Nimue remembered she had been as excited as her twin, perhaps more.

Then that night had happened. Gorion had died, telling them to run as he fell. Tristan had to drag her away as she screamed for him to go back, that they could save him.

The only road back home opened up nearly a year later as they chased after the Iron Throne through the book Duke Eltan had given them that would open Candlekeep's doors to her and her allies. Tristan had refused to go with her, Dynaheir staying by his side for her own reasons and Khalid remaining with him to keep an eye on him. The memories even then had been raw and painful to both. Tristan said they could have just sent the others, but Nimue wanted to go back. She needed to go back.

There had been doppelgangers, waiting under Candlekeep when they escaped after Sarevok attempted to frame them for the murders of the Iron Throne leaders. Faces of those she had once known twisted and distorted against her. They hated her. They had wanted her blood.

Nimue wished she had never left home.

Around her, shaped stone and earth began take shape, blooming from the shadows. It was a sight she'd seen before in her dreams after Imoen had been taken away to Spellhold. A decrepit Candlekeep rose up before her, the spires of the great library-fortress tumbled down and the walls cracked. Where there had once been fountains overflowing with cool water were fragments of the abyss, the stars seeming larger and brighter when Nimue viewed them from here. There was no longer grass, only hard dirt and rocks under her feet.

"This... this isn't home anymore," she murmured to herself, sorrow gripping her. "I'm all alone in a place that's become far from home."

"I would have to reach an agreement with you there. This place is far too happy for one of my ilk."

Nimue turned and nearly tumbled backwards in fear. Sarevok, or at least someone that looked remarkably like Sarevok. It was much bigger, and its eyes glowed ruby from under its massive helm. "W-who are you?" she stammered.

"I am the blood, the instinct within that will fuel the father, fool! Now be a good little girl and fall to your knees, and pray to your miserable little gods," the armoured figure spat. "I am within you! I am your essence! I cannot be denied!"

"What do you want from me?" Nimue asked, backing away.

"What do I want from you? I want your life! Your life, your soul, your body! I am the instinct! I am the blood!"

She felt as if she had been lit on fire again. Her blood boiled in her veins. She crumbled to the ground, desperately trying to get it to stop. The pain was unbearable. "No, go away! I want nothing with you!"

The armoured monster chuckled. "You may as well ask to live without the blood in your veins, or to be denied the breath of air! I am of you and within you; I am what you should have been!"

Nimue struggled in the dirt, crawling away until she could pull herself to her feet and run, the fire still burning her veins.

The Blood laughed again. "You can run as much as you want- I will catch up to you eventually, and you shall not be able to fight me then!"

Nimue murmured again, her eyes moving quickly under their lids. Jaheira put a hand on the girl's forehead and then quickly wrenched it away. She had expected a fever, but not for the young half-elf to feel like she was being cooked alive.

The druid had healed what she could. There were fewer scars than she had thought there would be. There were two particularly noticeable ones on her face. One went from the far corner of her right brow that descended down the side of her face in a semi-circle to her jaw. The other went across her left cheekbone to the bridge of her nose. Then there were Nimue's legs, the right already having been in bad enough condition that she had a noticeable limp as she walked after they had left Irenicus' hospitality the first time. Jaheira was not sure if the girl would be able to even stand correctly when she woke up.

If she woke up.

Jaheira pushed the thought away and stood, glaring up the wall that led to a small balcony that overlooked the dimly red lit maze Bodhi had dragged them into. "Alright, Bodhi. Explain your little game."

Bodhi peered down, flashing a bright smile. "First things first. Catch!"

The vampire, whom still held onto Imoen's wrist, pushed the red-haired rogue in front of herself and pushed her off the edge. Imoen squealed happily, not seeming to notice that if she hit the floor from where she fell, there would be little they could do for them. Minsc reacted faster than Jaheira had ever seen him, the large man diving forward with his arms out. Jaheira sighed in relief as he caught her.

"Little Imoen is not a toy to be thrown!" Minsc shouted up at Bodhi, setting the giggling mess that was Imoen down. "We ought to cut your evil into little pieces!"

"You may have the chance, but first, you need to play," Bodhi laughed. "This here is my little gauntlet. It used to be where they sent the inmates to be tested for their sanity, but after Irenicus replaced the last director of Spellhold… well, let's say the wizard that operated the test is busy elsewhere."

"And let me guess, you want us to run like rats in your maze?" Jaheira snarled back to her.

"Indeed, and if you're good, quick little rats, you may even be able to get out of here freer than birds and chase down Irenicus," the vampire gave another laugh, "but I doubt that you will. Slow little rats are food for poor, starving me… and a few friends. Clock's ticking, ticking tock, and I'd wish you luck, but I'm quite famished. I know you understand."

An arrow whistled up at Bodhi, whom cackled and dissipated into a fine mist before it struck. It sailed straight through her incorporeal form as it began to float away. Kivan lowered his bow as Jaheira swore angrily.

"Poof! Away she goes!" Imoen cackled.

Nimue had never been much of a runner. She could keep pace with the others when they travelled on the roads, but when they started running, it had been a challenge. Carrying a staff about the same height as her and wearing long robes were not optimal for doing such. After she had been first held in captivity by Irenicus, the most she could do was try to limp faster after the others and be thankful she could at least half-way use protective spells and invocations at range.

Her lack of practice showed here. Even though her legs supported her weight properly here, the bottom of her robes had been cut off to the middle of her knees, and she did not have her staff to worry about, Nimue was still slow. In fear, she kept looking back over her shoulder. The fact that the armoured creature was only walking towards her and getting closer each time she looked made her more nervous and frantic, contributing to her slowness. Nimue wanted nothing to do with the blood of Bhaal.

She looked over her shoulder again and did not see her pursuer. Nimue came to a halt, gasping for breath. Had it gone away? Had the monster that claimed it was of the blood, Bhaal's blood, vanished?
She looked up as she heard a blade whistling through the air, gasped, and threw herself to the ground. The Blood laughed heartily at her as it missed and she scrabbled away and back to her feet. "You cannot escape me!" it shouted as she ran away again.

She scrambled towards the steps that led inside Candlekeep. They were badly damaged and crumbling under her, but they did not fall. If she could get inside, Nimue knew she could find somewhere to hide.

The doors did not want to open. Nimue determinedly threw all of her small weight against them and pushed, but there was little avail. "Please! I'll give anything you want, but don't let it catch me! Please open!" she pleaded. Nimue grabbed the handles, pushing on the door again. All at once, several tiny sharp blades stabbed into her palm. She pulled it away, looking at the pricks in her hand each oozing a little bit of blood. The tiny blades glistened with her blood.

The doors swung open of their own accord.

Not questioning, Nimue squeezed her hand shut and ran inside. She did not look about the darkened shelves, somehow instinctively knowing that the books and scrolls there were as damaged as the fortress itself. She ran for the stairs that led upstairs, grabbing the railing and beginning to run up.

"Wait!" a familiar voice called softly.

Nimue spun around, looking about the shelves as she drank in another breath of air. In the dim light, she spotted someone sitting between two of the shelves in a nearby corner, their knees drawn up to their chin. As she drew closer, she could make out the dark leathers and the bright pink cloak that had been mended numerous times over. They looked at Nimue with wide, bright blue eyes, short red hair falling around their face.

"Imoen?"

The others had left. Most of them, anyway. The one with the blue marks, and the hood had stayed. She knew his name. He was Kivan. He had come back to the group, but Imoen hadn't been there when that happened.

He had stayed behind to watch them. Jaheira needed to go with the others. They needed someone that could heal others if they got hurt. They also needed to figure out how to get out of Bodhi's maze. They couldn't move Nimue or herself if they were doing that.

Imoen rocked back and forth on her heels, clasping her knees and laughing, but she wasn't sure why. She just felt like giggling now. Just before the others left, she had screamed how she wanted to kill them. They looked scared. Or was alarmed the better word? She felt bad and had sat down as they left.

Kivan stood near Nimue, sharply alert and poised to kill if anything. Imoen tilted her head and laughed more as she noticed this. She guessed he stayed to watch Nimue more than her. They were friends. Had to become friends because Kivan shot arrows safely from behind the group standing beside Nimue and was Nimue's primary defense if anything got past the rest of them and went straight for her. Well, not had to, it was just that no one could avoid cheerful Nimue without at least talking to her. And talking to her tended to lead to most becoming friends with her. Or irritated.

Imoen remembered Nimue cried when he had left the group after what happened with Sarevok. But Nimue had been crying a lot then. Tris had died. Khalid and Jaheira were talking about leaving. Minsc and Dynaheir wanted to go back to Rashemen. She had lots of reasons to cry then.

There were footsteps somewhere nearby. Kivan readied an arrow and disappeared up the stairs.

Imoen didn't budge. She kept laughing to herself, and rocking back and forth. Her mind was a wreck. For brief moments, just as she had, she would have some clarity. Then things would scramble, become confused and muddied, and she'd be right back where they started. She didn't mind too much. Whatever was happening outside her mind could no longer affect her like it used to.

"Imoen?"

The voice was hoarse and weak, but one Imoen knew. It grated harshly on her mind. She wanted to yell and scream again. "Shh!" she hissed.

"Imoen?" once again the voice repeated.

Imoen grabbed her head. "Shh... it hurts! It hurts too much Nimue!"

Nimue.

Everything came together, like mending a hole in a cloak. She, Imoen, was a Bhaalspawn, like Nimue. They had shattered her will and her mind and taken her soul for the vampire named Bodhi. They used her to bait Nimue to them, knowing Nimue would do anything to save those she considered close friends. Knowing what they had done to her, Imoen could guess that Nimue, too, had gone through the same if not worse treatment to have her soul robbed as well.

Her head pounded. She crawled over to Nimue, wincing with every movement. "Nimue, I'm sorry, I'm here," Imoen began. "I don't know for how much longer. It's hard to concentrate."

"The blood..." Nimue coughed, her eyes moving wildly beneath their lids, "the blood is coming. It hurts... like I'm on fire."

On some basic, primal level, Imoen understood what Nimue was experiencing. She had felt it when Nimue had described her nightmares that had given her odd powers which they had later connected to her Bhaalspawn blood. It made more sense now. Nimue's own blood wanted to drown her like Imoen's own damaged mind wished to suffocate her.

She clasped Nimue's hands. "It's alright. We can fight it together."

"Together," Nimue murmured.

Imoen heard numerous others approaching behind her and glanced over her shoulder, holding on to what she could now say as her sister's hands. Jaheira, Minsc, Kivan, and the other dark-skinned man she did not know had returned. Kivan said something low to Jaheira.

Imoen's head hurt too much to look at them all at once, too many things rushing together at once. She winced and looked back to Nimue. "Even these old codgers are here. We'll fight it all together, as well always have," Imoen joked through the aching in her head.

Minsc let out a small cry of surprise. "Old? Minsc is not old! Minsc is spry! Spryer than a chicken spring! Or... oh. Boo says it's 'spring chicken'."

Imoen wasn't sure if Nimue heard her this time. She had fallen silent again, unmoving other than her light breaths and eyes moving quickly beneath sealed eyelids.

Jaheira kneeled down beside her. "Imoen, are you alright?"

"My head hurts, and I can't concentrate well. I'm trying, though. My sister needs me."

"It's alright. We can fight it together," Imoen replied, standing. Her eyes were bright, and she was stronger than she had been before.

Nimue nodded. "Together."

"Touching." The Blood had found its way inside the keep in the time it had taken her to speak to Imoen. Nimue turned and stared at it, almost petrified. The Blood just laughed. "A little family reunion won't stop me!"

"We will. You won't stop us. We'll find our souls and be free of you!" Imoen shouted, stepping forward flashing bright, silvery daggers. Nimue wanted to stop her, to tell her that there was not a chance that the two of them alone could stand against such an opponent. It finally struck her then, and she felt foolish for missing such.

Nimue stepped forward too, mustering as much of her own strength as she could. She felt different after whatever had happened with the doors when she tried to enter the ruined Candlekeep. "She's right. You won't stop us, and we will find our souls."

"Find your soul?" the Blood laughed harder. "Ah, and now it makes so much more sense! Without that worthless thing, you're empty, aren't you? And what do you think will fill all the little empty holes? Yes, that's right. The anger, the hatred, the blood!"

Nimue shook her head and glared. "No, it won't. I won't let you go any farther."

"We need to move. We can't wait here any longer with that vampire and whatever friends she's brought along skulking about. We have what we need to move," Valygar stated.

Jaheira shook her head. "I don't want to move Nimue again, not while she's like this. It's best if she-."

"I apologise, Jaheira, but I agree with Valygar. We need to get out of here, quickly, if we wish to avoid a fight. Waiting here will not do Nimue any good either," Kivan's tone was stern and flat, as if he were only stating a fact.

The druid looked at the pale-haired half-elf girl. Imoen was still kneeled down beside her, holding onto Nimue's hands as if that were the only thing keeping her alive. Jaheira contemplated for a moment.

Finally, she nodded and faced the others. "Alright, we'll move, but we must be careful."

"Jaheira!"

Jaheira turned fully around, responding to Imoen's call. "What is it?"

Nimue sat up slowly, her silvery eyes that were somewhat large for her face alert and looking around as if she were astonished to be where she was. With a horribly hoarse voice, she looked over to them. "What has happened? Where are we?"