REFORGED
CHAPTER 7 – WHITE FIRE
Cold stone, hard and unforgiving, beneath him.
Searing heat, fanning above his face in swirling, lazy currents.
Darkness. The sense of a vast cavernous space, and a distant wind, howling and raging. These were the first things Kivan became aware of as he slowly drifted back to himself, tugging the ragged ends of his consciousness into a bewildered, uncomprehending whole.
For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was here.
Or, more terrifyingly, where here even was.
It was not Arvanaith. This eerie place of icy rock and infernal heat was not the paradise he had expected; he did not need to open his eyes to know that. But how he had come to be here, and the why of it, eluded him.
He panicked. Desperately, he tried to push himself upright, frantically searching his sluggish memory. His body seemed like mist and vapour, not quite formed. With a start of pure terror, he shrank back into himself, trying to remember what it felt like to live and breathe.
Kivan.
That beautiful voice in his mind, piercing through his overwhelming fear. A sudden brightness in the darkness like white fire, a star rising in his thoughts.
Kivan! Fingers ran over his skin, at once gentle but insistent, urgent. Kivan, please, you must listen to me! Remember who you are. Remember your flesh and bones, and how it feels to be inside your skin. Swiftly, those hands traced the plane of his cheek and the line of his neck, sloping down to his shoulders and running the length of his back. Showing him how to shape himself; how to reform. Please, she whispered again in his ear. She was warm and close, smoothing his hair. Remember what you are to me, what you are in this life. Come back to yourself, please!
That voice, that star... He could feel her fear, her terrible anguish. Memory returned in a violent rush.
Rain, dying in his arms. Her emptying eyes, her dwindling soul. How he had thrown himself headlong after her, his spirit unfurling into a single, trembling thread as he slipped away into the enveloping darkness, chasing the very faint spark that was her.
A falling star.
And now this.
Gasping, Kivan returned to himself fully. His eyes flew open. Wildly, he rolled onto his back and sought her, his breath stopping in his throat as he looked up into Rain's anxious face.
Oh, Seldarine, she was beautiful. Here, in this dim place, she glowed like a silver sun, her skin spun of translucent moonbeams and her eyes fathomless, midnight pools. Her hair was loose and flowing, falling forward to brush against him as she leaned over him. Fascinated, he reached out to curl a lock around his finger, barely aware of what he was doing. The hue was not russet anymore, he realised, but a curious layering of deep shadow over an ephemeral brightness, as though her hair floated through water. A subdued shade of sapphire. But the tendril wound around his finger felt soft and real. She felt real.
"Rain," he breathed, caught in her dark, dark eyes. "Elen'amin. My star."
With a sharp intake of breath, she closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging in sheer relief. She bowed her head. Clumsily, he uncoiled her hair and pulled her down with him to the hard ground, embracing her fiercely. Joy filled him, bright and painful.
She let him hold her. "Kivan," she whispered against the hollow of his throat, tender and wondering. "I am so glad to see you. But how is it that you are here?"
He wasn't sure himself. "I followed you," he said hoarsely, his chest constricting. "Oh Rain, cor'amin. I thought I had lost you." His fear returned, sliding like ice down his spine.
"Shh." Rain murmured to him soothingly. "It's alright." Lifting her head, she drew back and eased herself out of his arms, rising to her knees beside him. She looked down into his face very gravely. "You shouldn't be here," she told him, grimly now. "This place isn't safe for you."
Which cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Apprehensive, Kivan levered up onto his elbows and sat awkwardly, trying to get used to the ethereal lightness of his body. For the first time, he was able to clearly see the hellish, unnatural plane they were in, the murky dimness fading as Rain glanced about with him. The stone walls seemed to shimmer and waver beneath her gaze, then return more solidly. It was a nightmarish place; horrifying. Dread twisted in his gut. "Rain," he said uneasily, eyeing her warily. "Where are we?"
She was quiet a moment, considering him. "I think this is my father's realm," she finally said. "I have been here before, in dreams."
Fear rose, thick and choking. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. "But this is no dream," he rasped. "Are we..." He forced out the words. "Are we dead?"
Rain didn't shy away from it. "I am not certain." Holding out her iridescent hands, she frowned down at them, a crease appearing between her fine brows. "I am, perhaps," she allowed very softly. "But somehow, I have not dissolved. Not like Sarevok did when he died."
Kivan's heart clenched, terrified that she might be right, that she may indeed be dead. But she didn't seem to notice. There was a faraway look to her face now, as though her attention were divided between him and something else, something in the background that he could not sense.
"Perhaps it is because I had no soul of my own," she added musingly. "Or only the glimmer of one." She shook her head lightly, her shadowy blue hair cascading about her. "I can't say for sure."
She paused, tilting her head as though listening intently.
"There," she hissed, her chin coming up. "Do you feel it? We are not alone. Irenicus is here. He is here somewhere, walking where he does not belong. The stone recoils from him. He trespasses on my plane, seeking to rule with my stolen soul."
Swiftly, she lunged to her feet, all honed purpose. She turned in a slow circle, seeking.
With difficulty, Kivan stood, his knees trembling and weak. He was not nearly as strong here as she was. Rain was in her element, powerful and focused, just as she had been at the Tree of Life. But something was different. Watching her, he realised the cold, animalistic part of her was gone. Now, she seemed almost her old self, confident and assured, though patterned in cool blues and shimmering silvers, shadow and light playing through her being. The muted colours rippled like water. She reminded him of the endless ocean. Of rain falling as mist over the sea.
His breath caught. With a heart-felt pang, he recognised what he was seeing: the tiny essence of her soul that yet remained.
The part that was her.
She had lost her vibrancy, yes, the bright colours that had bled out of her. But oh, she was so very compelling, so tantalising to his senses. Kivan was heady with it. Drawn to her irresistibly, he came up behind her and took her gleaming shoulders in his hands, shivering with pleasure. She turned and looked up into his face.
"Rain," he whispered, amazed. "What do you see when you look at me? What colours am I to you?"
Her lips parted. Going very still, her eyes searching his, she reached up between them and laid her silvery fingers against the side of his face. "You look like the forest," she breathed. "Deep greens and browns and moving shadows, sunlight on leaves. Your eyes are a glistening black. And here..." She moved her hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. "Here, you are golden topaz and warm amber, loyal and devoted and strong."
Her words, her voice... It pleased him more than he ever could have thought possible. Love flared brightly in him, sweet and unbearably sharp now that the forms of their souls were touching, the spark of her very close. Kivan had the sudden awareness that a declaration spoken here might bind him to her for all eternity.
For what little time they had left.
He remembered her warning, spoken those few nights ago. I don't have more time. I am dying, Kivan. It won't take long now.
"Amael," he murmured. He bent his head to her gracefully-pointed ear and blew softly, savouring the way how beloved sounded, how it rolled off his tongue. "Rosa. Rain. There is something we need to speak of."
She pulled away to look at him, her blue hair drifting in the hot, fiery breeze.
Then she froze.
"Wait," she whispered, utterly motionless. "Hold. There are more of us. Others." Hastily, she spun out of his arms, whirling to face a massive stone door where eddying gusts were taking shape before it, resolving into the elusive forms of their fallen companions. Wraith-like, they twined on the cold stone floor, hammered between the anvil of glacial ice and a forge's fierce heat.
"Help me!" she cried, running towards them. "Kivan, please! Help me reform them!"
xxxx xxxx
He did as Rain had done for him, kneeling beside Imoen and coaxing her back into being. Perhaps it was because she was also a daughter of Bhaal, and a mage, but she seemed to reform with little difficulty. She opened startled eyes and looked about the plane with wonder.
There was no time for him to waste. He turned to Aerie next, holding her ghostly arms to bring her out of her frenzied thrashing. "Aerie," he called, helping her focus on his voice. "Think of what it means to be you. Think of how it feels to be alive."
She did, though her transformation took him completely by surprise. Astonished, he scrambled backwards as the luminous golden light that was her changed shape, great wings hued in silver and dusky rose spreading from her back. With a small cry, she came fully into herself. Kivan stared at her, unable to look away.
"Oh, Aerie," he whispered, awed. "Your wings. I knew they would be beautiful, but I had no idea they would be so glorious."
He wasn't the only one to feel that way. Rain sank to her knees beside him and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, surveying the avariel in amazement. "So beautiful," she breathed. "I would have given anything to see you like this, to see your wings."
"Would you give your life?" That was Jaheira, still weak from her change. Here, she was earthy tones of green and auburn, with a pulsing of honeyed light. She stood ungainly, rubbing at her arms. "I may have," she said darkly, though she didn't seem overly bitter or despairing at the prospect as Kivan would have imagined. But then again, she had lost Khalid. He knew what it was like to have little care for living.
"No." Rain's denial was very soft. At his side, she slowly shook her head. "You are not dead, Jaheira. I can feel it somehow. None of you are, except..." She choked off, looking at Aerie again.
Kivan felt a long shiver go through him. Grief-stricken, he blindly sought Rain's hand, laying his fingers over hers. Her sharp sorrow filtered to him.
"Me." Aerie's voice was barely audible. She gained her feet, tentatively trying her wings. The long pinioned feathers stretched, ivory and shimmering silver, edged in that rose. "Or I was," she amended softly. "But here... Here I am real. Here I have my wings." With a strangled sob, she spread her wings entirely. They seemed to fill the vast space, strong and splendid. Tears slipped down her golden cheeks. "Here I am free!"
Throwing herself forward, she launched into the air, her wings beating with incredible strength. Buffeted, Kivan threw a hand up to shield his face and then tracked her progress, his heart lifting at the rare sight of her. Aerie soared on the plane's thermal currents. She arced and spiralled, a faery of glistening beauty in this frightening plane.
"Wow!" Imoen craned her neck back. Her hair was garnet here, deep jewelled tones in her sparkling eyes and ethereal body. "I wonder if I can do that too. Rain, can you give me wings?" she wheedled. "Pretty please?"
She gave a short ironic laugh, her fingers tightening briefly on Kivan's shoulder. "I don't think that has anything to do with me," she said dryly. "If you want wings, you'll need to manage it yourself."
Imoen looked crestfallen. "Figures," she muttered. She turned her head to peer over her shoulder, grimacing.
Rain's faint smile faded. She didn't resist as Kivan tugged her gently to her feet, her attention diverted again. Her silvered face was very grim.
"Where is Anomen?" he questioned, glancing around with a worried frown.
"He didn't come." Rain answered him distractedly. She closed her eyes briefly, her head turning towards the enormous stone door. "I can't sense him anywhere. Perhaps he was not injured in our battle with Irenicus, or this plane is closed to him."
"This is Bhaal's plane?" Jaheira cocked her head to one side, considering Rain warily. "Yes, it must be. Only his realm would feel like death and blood, filled with the screams of the dead and dying." She flickered a glance at Kivan, distaste thick in her. He narrowed his eyes at her in warning. "Well, there must be some purpose in our coming here. Purpose in your coming here," she said to Rain.
"Indeed," she murmured. Stepping forward, she moved to the closed doorway and lightly pressed her hands to the stone, leaning her brow against it in intense concentration. The shadows flared in her. Troubled, Kivan went to her, laying a hand on her silken shoulder where silvered water mingled with starlight.
"Is Irenicus nearby?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yes." The word hissed out from between her teeth. "He stalks us. He moves too quickly, more quickly than us."
Lifting her hands from the rock, Rain began to follow the contours of the cavern, passing beneath misshapen stone forms and grotesque eyes. Kivan flanked her warily.
She glanced at him, offering a tiny mirthless smile. "Still my loyal protector," she observed softly. "Even here, in this terrifying place."
He raised a brow at her. "Would you have it otherwise?"
"No." Her midnight eyes softened, the silvers and blues in her brightening. "Not at all. But come. I must learn what I am, and how I am to defeat Irenicus at last." She raised her chin, determined. "How I am to win back my soul."
xxxx xxxx
Through hot, stifling rooms they moved, the cavern roof yawning open to a wild, grey sky. Rain took it in stride. Test after test was required of her, spiteful fiends trying to twist what she was into something black and dire, turning the dark mirror of herself back on her. Trying to tempt the Slayer inside her.
Each fiend doubted her worthiness to hold the Tears of Bhaal. But Rain did not succumb. Staying true to herself, the real her that shimmered so beautifully in Kivan's eyes, she simply squared her shoulders and did what needed to be done. Undaunted. She did not shrink from the horrors of her father's plane, but neither did she allow herself to be corrupted.
When she refused Black Razor, Kivan's heart swelled with pride. Just being near her had him in a state of dizzied awe. Her quiet, commanding presence was growing, her courage sure and strong. But the sword's significance raised a burning question in his mind.
"You did the right thing," he said quietly, padding along beside her. "I could feel that sword's evil; it has thirsted for the blood of too many innocents." He frowned uncertainly. "But it worries me, too."
He stopped and faced her, trying to put his fear into words. "We don't have any weapons here," he noted. "No blades or bow. It is just us, Rosa, and what we can do with magic and our bare hands." He glanced down at them briefly, balling them into frustrated fists. Resolve fired him. Fiercely now, he looked back into her eyes. "I will rip him apart with my very fingers if I need to," he said harshly. "Do not worry, Rain. I will find a way to assist you."
She smiled at him very gently. "I do not doubt it," she murmured. "But I have been thinking about this also." Turning a little, she glanced around the eerie plane, assessing it. "These creatures, these fiends...they keep saying that I have power here. That I can shape this realm to my will. What if –?" She let her voice trail off into a musing silence.
Kivan watched her, intrigued. Right now, he didn't think he would be surprised by anything she set her mind to do. He smiled faintly at the thought.
Suddenly, Rain raised her head and fixed him with an intent look. "Kivan," she said quickly. "Can you tell me about how it feels to draw your bow? How the wood and string feel beneath your fingers? How your arrows fly?"
He blinked at her, taken off guard. "Of course."
"Show me."
Bemused, he went to her, coming to stand behind her. He carefully put his arms around her and guided her hands, mimicking the motion of drawing back his longbow. Her sapphire hair tickled his face and chin. "Like this, vanima," he said, far too easily distracted by how close she was and how good it felt to have his hands on her silvery skin. How natural. "The shaft is supple and strong, bending to the pull of the string. The bowstring glistens in the sunlight, taut." He pulled Rain's curled fingers to her jaw, showing her how to draw back and loose. "Then the arrow snaps free, swift and sure."
"Like this?" She repeated the movement again. He nodded, satisfied, and let her go.
For a moment, Rain was still and silent. She closed her eyes and seemed to reach down deep inside herself. Then, in one quick motion, she called a pure white light to her fingertips and created, forming the bow's arching stave and the thrumming, released string.
Stunned, Kivan stared at her, at the gleaming ivory bow she now held in her hands. There was a glinting after-burn in his vision.
"Oh," she gasped, as shocked as he was. Weakly, she thrust the bow at him and stumbled, looking like all the strength had just drained from her limbs. She leaned her back against the cavern wall and breathed heavily.
"Did I just see what I think you just did?" Jaheira regarded her in utter amazement.
Kivan swallowed tightly. "Yes," he agreed, looking down at the bow now gracing his hands. It was smooth and splendid to his touch, warming him like the dazzling white fire from which it had sprung. "Yes, you did." He looked at Rain a long moment, willing her to meet his eyes. She did so, pale as moonlight. The smile he gave her was slow and spreading, with a good deal of heat. "Well, amael. You seem to have discovered a mysterious talent."
"Apparently," she muttered. She closed her eyes and then let out a muffled laugh, surprised at herself.
"Now can I have those wings?" Imoen put her hands on her hips and gave her sister an exuberant smirk.
"I..." Rain put a hand to her brow. "I think I need a moment," she said feebly.
Kivan sauntered over to her at the wall and leaned back casually. She glanced at the shining bow, tracing its length with her awed gaze.
"Will it serve?" she asked him dubiously.
"Oh, yes." He gave her that slow smile. "Yes it will. You have warmed my archer's heart through and through, amael."
Jaheira shook her head as though to clear it. "Gorion's ward," she said dryly. "Is there anything you can't do?"
Rain stiffened. Tipping her head back, she looked up to where Aerie stood tall and proud atop a high stone column, her magnificent wings gleaming against the rushing, stormy skies. The avariel returned her gaze fiercely, putting Kivan in mind of an avenging angel, or a near-celestial being. "Yes," she finally whispered. "I can't truly return her wings, even if I made them here. Nor can I bring her back to life."
Kivan's heart stilled and then beat again. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But Queen Ellesime's priestesses may still have a chance, to bring her back to her body at least." Her wingless body. He hid his wince. "Take heart, elen'amin," he told her gently. "There is hope for us all yet."