As always, I claim almost no ownership of the characters and the setting. Reviews are always welcome.

Chapter Eight – The Shattered One

Suldenessellar burned. Thick dark plumes rolled up from smoking towers and high arches and tall stone spires. Beneath Kera's feet, the platform shone with blood. She gulped down a quick breath. The air was full of noise, shouts and screams and pleading, the frenzied panic of a battle that sounded to be more of an ambush.

Beside her, Elhan's face was ashen. "The palace," he said. "You will need to get into the palace."

"What's in the palace?"

"The queen," he snarled back at her. "She will be there, and that is where the exile will be."

Light flared above the curving arches of the branches. Another spell followed, trailing sparks and thudding into a high white wall.

"Please," Elhan said. "The palace, foreigner."

"What do I need to know?"

"He will be at the Tree," the elf said, his voice harried and thin. "The Tree is inside the palace."

"The Tree of Life," Jaheira cut across him. "Why would he go to the Tree? To destroy it?"

Elhan shook his head. "No, I…the queen. To get to the queen." He spun, barked out an order to his scouts.

He was lying, she thought, either by omission or design, but she needed to get to Irenicus, whatever his plans for the city. She nodded, slowly, watched as the elven scouts fanned out across the white platform. "What will you do?"

"There have to be survivors," he said. "And even where there are not, there will be drow."

Jaheira caught her elbow. "The palace is on the far side of the city."

"You know how to get there?"

She nodded. "We need to move quickly, and quietly, and draw as little attention as possible."

Kera gripped her sword hilt. "We've already talked about this."

Jaheira's dark gaze swept over her, raking. "I know."

Kera inclined her head at Elhan again, and then she was stepping away from him, leading the others across the platform and towards the high towers beyond. She breathed in and tasted smoke and spent magic. She glanced back, saw how Valygar and Minsc had flanked Imoen, and she smiled slightly.

They discovered the high white towers pitted and cracked and streaming smoke. Beyond, a stone plaza extended between the curving swirls of ancient branches, and for one idle moment, Kera wondered what magic helped the city stand, wood and stone merged and strong together.

Jaheira set a quick, furtive pace, keeping to the shadows of the towering trees, and ducking behind rippling walls of flame and down deserted, narrow stairways. More than once, she waved them still, and Kera listened to feet pounding on stone, and the ragged, gasping noises of combat. Pressed against a low wall, she heard something large lumbering past, and she wondered what else the drow had brought with them from Ust Natha.

The stairs swung down and around, littered with dead elves, fallen drow among them. A shadow swooped under the archway at the bottom, and Solaufein held up one hand. Silently, he glided past Jaheira. Two soundless strides took him further, and Kera saw him launch himself through the archway.

Without thinking, she flew after him.

"Kera, wait!"

She ignored the voice. Another step, and she was under the archway. She saw Solaufein first, spinning past a drow's shoulder. His sword snapped up, cutting in low and past the drow's flailing riposte. The point bit through studded leather, and the drow toppled.

She took another moment to count three more drow, and she hurled herself at them. The first one met her head-on, and his shoulder smacked into hers. She staggered, recovered her footing. Past his shoulder, she noticed Solaufein, his sword buried in the second drow's stomach, the third circling him.

She swung under his guard and pushed off again, twisting past him. He whipped around, following her as fast. She struck out blindly, and her blade clanged against his left bracer.

Solaufein darted past her, his sword thick with blood. He kicked out the back of the drow's knees. A single, scything blow took the drow's head off, and he turned, his eyes blazing angrily.

"We agreed," he said flatly. "We agreed that I would take small groups of drow on their own."

"Yes, we did."

"We agreed that they might let down their guard, enough for me to finish them quickly."

"Yes." Kera raked loose hair out of her eyes. She glanced past him, saw both of the other drow, sprawled out and lifeless. "Yes. I know we did."

He stared at her, bewildered. "I don't understand."

She shrugged, not quite able to look at him. She wanted to ask if he had known them, the drow he had killed, if had known their names. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"Kera?" Jaheira approached from the steps. "Are you ready to move on?"

She nodded, and stepped away from the drow. "I'm ready."


Another plaza, thick with debris and the reek of carnage, gave way to spiraling stairs. Here, the clamour of battle was closer, louder, and more than a few times, they stayed huddled behind huge broken chunks of stone, listening desperately as swords met. Other times, Kera sat crouched with her shoulders pressed against low, crumbling walls, waiting while Solaufein flitted on ahead. Tipping her head on one side and straining to hear as he hewed his way through whatever group of drow waited beyond. Twice, he returned bleeding, and the third time, she ordered Minsc and Haer'Dalis with him.

Past white temples, and stone benches and dropped lanterns, their panes crushed and scattered. Behind a toppled slab, they found two elves, the first bleeding from a deep, welling wound on her thigh. Jaheira patched her up with spells and briskly-wrapped bandages, and quite firmly ordered them to find somewhere safer to hide. They found others, frightened and injured and hiding in the small, winding streets behind a temple. Most of them were thin and filthy, and Kera wondered how long they had lasted. We should have come sooner, she thought, but she said nothing.

A hurried march down steep steps took them past a high, pale wall, and Jaheira nodded. "There," she whispered. "The royal palace is on the other side."

"What's around the front?" Valygar asked.

"A square. Wide, and likely to be busy." Jaheira frowned. "I'd prefer our chances staying back here."

Kera nodded, and followed the druid. She reached out, touched the smooth wall with one gloved hand. Her shoulder ached, and when she licked at her lips, she tasted salt. She looked down at her hands, and saw with curious detachment that her grip on her sword was unerringly steady.

Small white gates led into gardens that had once been immaculately tended. Gravel paths cut between lush swathes of lawn, and tall willows rustled. Beyond the high walls at the far end, she saw plumes of smoke, and the dark, unsettling shape of something with wings before it fluttered behind a spire.

"Why's it so quiet in here?" Imoen murmured.

Kera shook her head. " I don't know."

Tall glass doors gave way to a deserted corridor, and the emptiness lasted until the next corner opened onto a dining room, and an ambush. A dozen drow, and Minsc's mace swept two aside almost instantly. With her shoulder against Solaufein's, Kera carved through to her own target, and the sudden, bright spill of blood assailed her.

Irenicus, she thought, fiercely.

Viciously, she yanked her sword out of the drow's collapsing body, looked up to see the others checking for wounds and cleaning weapons.

More drow waited in the corridors beyond, and they fell as quickly. Kera spun under the harsh light of a spell, slammed her pommel against a drow's throat. Followed up when he staggered and drove her sword into his chest. She gave the hilt a sharp tug, and the blade grated against bone. She swore, yanked harder, and ended up kicking the drow forcibly off the sword.

"Kera." Very carefully, Solaufein's fingers brushed the back of her forearm. "You're moving too fast."

"What?"

"You're not watching yourself," he said, as cautiously. "You're moving too fast and leaving yourself open."

"No, I…" She scowled, and knew he was right. But it seemed so easy, to let her own impetus carry her, to let each wild footfall take her closer to the sound of metal sinking into flesh. "You said to keep moving."

"I said to keep moving, and lightly, not so fast all it will take to gut you is one single drow with better reflexes." His head tilted. "You're bleeding."

She swiped at the thin trickle of blood on her cheek. "I'm fine."


The walls were burnished wood, and she heard the sound of water, rushing across rocks. Drow blood coated her sword, thick and dark. Another shallow slice crossed her shoulder. Behind her, she could hear Jaheira murmuring as she healed the ugly puncture wound on Valygar's leg. Soft lights burned on the walls here, and when she stepped under the archway, she saw a pool, glittering between grey stones. Slender statues curved above the rippling surface, their faces stern and sad, their hands meeting over the water. She reached out, touched the damp rock. "He's here, somewhere."

"This is the way to the Tree," Jaheira said briskly. "Past the water, and through the wood, and the wood becomes the Tree."

The Tree of Life, she remembered, that grew at the heart of Suldenessellar and gave the city is power and its beauty and its breathing link to the Seldarine.

And here she stood, drow blood falling in thick drops from her sword and her hands, and nothing in her thoughts past vengeance.

"Kera?" Jaheira smiled, a little sadly. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Wordlessly, she stepped around the edge of the pool, past where the water seemed to trap the white light in trembling reflection. She lifted her hand again, touched the soft, warm wood, and when she pushed, her fingers slid through.

Something in the air changed, gently and silently, and she found herself looking down at the whorled surface of some huge branch.

For a long, faltering moment, she stared, saw that the branch curled out into soft greyness, that heavy, lush leaves fanned down from above. She breathed in, and tasted the damp warmth of a forest.

Jaheira's hand closed over her shoulder, and she murmured, "Kera. We have to go."

She nodded again, and made herself step forward. Her feet touched the uneven bark, her boots clogged with mud and grime. She hesitated a moment longer, and looked back to where the drow stood, his shoulders tight and his eyes slitted. "Solaufein?"

"This is…elven magic?"

"Yes. I don't understand it either."

"Oh." He exhaled, sharply. "Forgive me."

She shook her head, and forced herself onward. Four steps took her to where the branch dipped, and when she glanced behind, there was no pool, and no small arched room, hidden behind the queen's throne room.

There was only the Tree, and its branches, and the sound of the wind through the leaves.

Irenicus.

He was here, somewhere, somewhere near the heart of the Tree, somewhere hidden among its curling, twining branches.

How did she know that?

She shook herself and kept moving, almost flinching when the branch swayed gently beneath her. Something fluttered, and she stopped, peering fiercely upwards. She nothing but the green leaves, dense and star-shaped.

"Keep going," Solaufein muttered over her shoulder.

She shifted a little to one side, slowed her pace so she could walk beside him. He was prowling, moving as if he expected an attack, and she could not blame him. In the pale light, his face was all hard angles, and when the wind tousled the branches above, his hand tightened on his sword.

But he is here, Kera thought, and allowed herself a small smile.

Underfoot, the branch coiled past others, curving down and under the green spray of the leaves. She chose the smaller of three that split off at the far end, and somehow knew she had made the right choice.

"He is hurting the Tree…"

The whisper was sudden and unexpected, and she shivered. The woman's voice, the woman from her dreams, and she knew it must be Ellesime.

Ellesime, Queen of Suldenessellar, who had once loved an elf named Joneleth.

"He is hurting the Tree. Hurry."

The wind ruffled the leaves again, and Kera kept moving, following the spiraling surface of the branch as it descended.

"He wishes to have its power for his own again. Please. Hurry. He is hurting the Tree."

She closed her eyes, and wanted to scream back at Ellesime that she was hurrying, was walking as fast as could through this unsettling, beautiful green maze. The branch sloped down and past some huge towering part of the Tree that might have been the trunk, but she was not sure.

"Please..!"

The woman's voice wavered, and Kera doubled her pace. She stumbled over a whorled knot in the wood, and Solaufein caught her elbow, wordlessly steadied her. Ahead, she could see how the twisting branches arched above them, and the wood underfoot spread, plunging down before flattening out. She made it halfway down the steep slope, and stopped.

Irenicus.

She tried to move, found that every limb felt trapped in ice. She remembered his masked face leaning over her, his blue eyes blazing as she woke, his slender hands on her bare skin.

Irenicus.

He stood with his back to her, his hands splayed against the curve of the branch in front of him. His head was tilted back, and she could see his whole frame shuddering with each slow breath.

"Kera," Solaufein murmured. "Remember what I said."

Remember it and give it back to him, all of it, in your revenge.

"Yes," Kera said. "I do remember."

Irenicus did not move. His fingers were sunk into the wood, his spine stiff. Somehow, she dragged her gaze away from him, and across the flat surface of the branch, to where the Queen of Suldenessellar sat.

Ropes on her wrists, and her arms wrenched behind her back. Her green gown was askew, and bruises showed through at her shoulders and her throat. Her coiffure was missing pins, and hung in loose golden loops around her ears.

Kera faltered. She wanted to turn around and look at Imoen, to see that her sister was with her, was going to step down there with her, and face him.

Solaufein caught her hand, and squeezed hard. "You have to," he said.

She swallowed, and stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the branch until she made it down the slope. She found her voice, and called out, "Irenicus?"

Ellesime's head turned, and her eyes creased gratefully, but he did not stir.

Kera advanced, raised her sword. "Joneleth?"

Irenicus spun, his hands wrenching out of the Tree. "You," he breathed. "You live, yet?"

"Ah. The Child of Bhaal has awoken."

The eyes were the same, cold and blue and brilliant, and Kera trembled. She remembered Spellhold, and how she realised, finally realised, that the man with the whispering voice and the deep cowl was not the asylum's caretaker, and never had been. She remembered Yoshimo's face, crumpling in remorse, and the sleep that had taken her.

She woke, and her fingers brushed something soft and smooth. She opened her eyes properly, and noted first that her weapons were missing, her boots off. She sat up, gingerly, and discovered that her leggings were gone as well, and her mouth was dry. In front of her was glass, curving and thick, and her fingertips slid across it when she touched it.

"Yes," Kera said. "I live."

Irenicus' face rippled, or his mask did, but the eyes did not change. "You survived Spellhold and the Underdark, then."

"Yes." She was stalling and she knew it, but the breath had locked up in her throat, and she could not make herself move forward. "Your sister is dead."

"Ah. A pity." His voice was the same, incisive and direct as cut glass, and just as cold. "Then your sister has possession of her soul."

"Yes."

Irenicus regarded her, slowly and methodically. "And you are here for yours. You have but a fraction of yourself within you, and yet you are here. Such strange tenacity, child. You will die here, and you will not be remembered for it, and I will have my revenge."

Kera opened her mouth, tried to snarl something back. She had managed – almost – at Spellhold, but here, amid the fluttering leaves, words failed her.

"No, Joneleth," Ellesime said, softly. "You shall not."

An odd smile flickered over his mouth. "Ellesime?"

The elven queen stood, awkwardly, and Jaheira steadied her, her hands going immediately to the elf's shoulders.

"Yes," she said. "You will not do this. Not again, Joneleth."

His face twisted. "Do not call me that. I lost all right to that name when you and your followers had me stripped of everything in me in that was elven."

"Your revenge has broken you," Ellesime said softly. "Do you remember nothing? How you were here, with the Tree, once, and it touched you? Do not remember it? Do you not remember us?"

"I do not remember your love, Ellesime," Irenicus said. "I have tried."

Yes, Kera thought, and understood suddenly. He had tried. He had created her, again and again and again, pale and lifeless figures kept in glass jars, their staring eyes always green and lovely, their straggling hair fanned out in the water and flaxen. It made sense, now, dreadful sense; the room with the bed and its rich silken covers, the mahogany chests with their whorled, elven patterns, the hanging tapestries woven with bright hunting scenes, the books with their old tales of forests and bards and lovers.

"It is gone," Irenicus said in the same tone. "I have tried, and it is gone, along with everything else. I clung to it, Ellesime. For so long I clung to it, but it has become a hollow, dead thing."

He was staring at the elf queen, his eyes unblinking and icy, and Kera knew she had to do something. She looked at his hands, splayed and scarred, and at his face, hidden.

"Jaheira," Kera snapped, and threw herself forward.

She had imagined this moment too many times; it had dogged her dreams and jolted her to waking before and after her terrible failure at Spellhold.

She barely registered it as Jaheira sliced apart the ropes that kept Ellesime's hands twisted behind her back.

She ploughed shoulder-first into Irenicus, and again felt the whipcord, frightening strength in his lean frame. He shoved back at her, some incantation already falling from his lips, and she fell. Ungainly and startled, she hit the ground, and gasped. White light seared overhead, and she heard Imoen cry out.

No, Kera thought, and forced herself back onto her feet. She was aware of Solaufein beside her, his sword unsheathed, and his face set and grim. Valygar swept in on her other side. Another spell spat from Irenicus' clenched hands, and Valygar stumbled. The sheeting cold that followed spun past Kera's head, and she heard Haer'Dalis swear aloud. She ducked under another, and saw Jaheira as she hurried the elf queen away.

"She flees," Irenicus said. "She would see you left to face me alone, it seems."

Kera wanted to scream back at him that it was not like that, not at all, but the words dried up in her mouth. As fast, another spell tore away from his hands, and slammed solidly against Solaufein's chest. The drow staggered, eyes narrowing, and another two steps took him back to her side. Minsc darted past Valygar, and the lunging sweep of his mace cracked against Irenicus' shoulder. Kera saw him falter, saw how the relentless follow-up with the mace drove him back a pace. She shouted Haer'Dalis' name, and he dived behind Irenicus, his swords flicking out.

Irenicus spun, both hands cupped around flame. The tiefling rolled away madly, and Minsc's mace thudded against Irenicus' spine.

Kera saw his knees buckle, and some strange elation flooded her.

He was wavering, she thought. And that meant he could be brought down.

Minsc swung again, and again, and again, and Irenicus toppled. But even as his knees hit the ground, his fingers flared white. Haer'Dalis' right-hand sword sliced across his upraised arm. The haft of Minsc's mace sank into his back, and Irenicus whirled around, halfway to his feet.

The spell snapped out from his hands, and Minsc dropped, his face twisting in pain. Kera smelled burned skin, and something in her mind went flat and angry.

She hurled herself at Irenicus again, and her sword found purchase against his shoulder. The point dug in and slanted deeper, and he stiffened. She wrenched the blade free and kept moving, and smiled when Solaufein cannoned into his other side. Haer'Dalis dived in again, and slashed both swords across the back of Irenicus' legs. He whirled around, and the spell that snapped from his hands sent the tiefling reeling. He turned back, and met Solaufein's sword. The blade dipped beneath his hands and sank into his chest. Still moving, the drow pushed on past him, yanking the hilt of his sword along with him.

Kera saw those blue eyes narrow, and she leaped. Solaufein's sword ripped clear of Irenicus' body, and he swayed.

She crashed into him, and let the momentum carry them both down. Irenicus was under her, his whole frame rigid, and he reached up with both hands. Viciously, Solaufein wrenched his right arm back, heaved until bone gave way.

"You," Irenicus said, softly, his breath whistling through his lips. "How do you keep moving? After Spellhold, after everything?"

He's not shocked, Kera thought, and a prickle of suspicion chased down her spine. Not shocked, or surprised, or afraid.

She stared down into his blue eyes and remembered the confusion, that day she had awoken in his cage. Awoken to bars that were rusted and splashed with her own blood, and she had wondered how it happened, since she could not recall.

They had been travelling, sharing stories, meandering down some old trail through the forest. Imoen poking fun at Dynaheir, and Kera bothering Minsc for stories of Rashemen, and Khalid whispering something to Jaheira.

Something had happened, and when she woke in the cage, she could not remember it.

"I don't know," Kera said, and drove her sword into his throat.

His blood was hot and bright, and when it flooded across her hands, she watched it. She dragged the blade out of his throat. She stared down at him, at the half-closed blue eyes, at the way he did not move.

"Kera?" Solaufein crouched beside her. "Kera."

When she did not respond, he clasped her hand and drew her to her feet. "I'm here," she said. Without looking away from Irenicus, she said, "Imoen?"

"Yes, Kera?"

"Imoen, what did you feel? When I killed Bodhi, what did you feel?"

"I felt…right," her sister answered. "Whole. I just knew."

"I don't feel anything." She knelt again, and tugged her gloves off. She reached out, and touched the blood that spilled across the tree. The smell of it, thick and rich and metallic, filled her head. She lifted her hand, rubbed Irenicus' blood between her fingers.

"Kera," Jaheira said, carefully. "What are you doing?"

She turned her head. She opened her mouth to tell Jaheira that it was alright, that it must be over, when something swept across her, something that tugged and pulled insistently and painfully, and she saw nothing more.