XX

Concerned brown eyes regarded him; he stared up into a face he did not know. A shock of pink hair covered a scar that ran down one side of her face.

"Do y'know where you are?" She asked gently as he tried to lift his head; all he saw was pink. Pink stone walls, pink ceiling, pink torchlight.

"No… who are you?" Somehow, he managed to croak the words out. The young woman cocked her head to one side; it was then he noticed she was wearing black. A faint though distinctive scent hung around her; he knew it well, but couldn't place it.

"Y'don't remember?"

He shook his head.

A smile lit her features, and wrapping sleek arms around his neck, she kissed his brow, "Yer safe now."

Slumping back into the bedcovers, he nodded. Perching beside him, she promised, "We'll get them."

"Them?"

"Them what did this to ya." Curling a strand of hair around her finger, she watched him oddly, "Ya really don't remember anything?"

Another headshake.

"Hoo boy. Well, don't ya worry yer pretty head; lil ole Imoen's gonna take real good care of you. You rest now an' leave everything to me."

"What happened?" Somehow it was important; just at the very edges of recollection, it hung there tantalising, just out of reach.

"Well…" She hesitated, "Y'see, it's… complicated. But basically, there are, um, we've got enemies, you an' me. 'Petty warlords', you'd call 'em. You an' me, we're…" She scratched her head, "we're kinda brother and sister. Anyway, that's not important; what is is you got jumped. See, Balthazar – you remember him?"

Listlessly, he offered the slightest headshake.

"Well, he's… he's one of the bad guys. We're fightin' on the side of right, sorta the lesser evil against the greater. It's kinda involved, so just take me word fer it. Anyhow, there's this other guy, Gromnir; he was meant to be an ally. See, we each had an army, an' we're each vying – that's another word of yer's – for this throne. You an' me, we're gonna – well. We'll get to that later. These others – Gromnir and Balthazar – they found ya; you'd just fought Sarevok – he's another warlord – an' yer weren't strong enough. I dunno where your army was; you ordered them to attack, but I dunno where or who. So, ole Gromnir and Balth, they're meant to be fightin' each other, but instead, they join forces and march on you. There's no way I'm standin' fer that, no-siree, so in I hop, grab ya, an' away we go. You were wonderful, y'know. There were a hundred of them surroundin' ya; Gromnir's lackwits, an' you didn't even have yer sword…"

Her voice quietened, "I dunno what happened to yer guards." Hardening, she added, "They weren't supposed to be able to find ya. Bastards."

"…Imoen?"

"Yeah?" She looked down at him.

"You have my thanks."

She waved it aside, a brilliant smile lighting her face, "What are friends for? 'Sides, we made a promise. Ain't no one gonna hurt you without gettin' through me."

Weakly, he lifted his hand; she took in both of hers.

"What happened to Balth – Bal –?"

"Balthazar? Oh, I left a few surprises fer him. Um, I hope ye don't mind, 'cause there's nothin' left of yer enclave…" Sheepishly, she scratched her head, "I kinda made it implode – blew out the floors and walls. It musta killed, oh, uh, two thirds of the force they sent in. Anyway, you get some sleep now." Leaning in, she kissed him.

He wondered at the dark light in her eyes as she rose, but his body obeyed.