In The Cards

by Laufey

First part of my Bhaalspawn Trilogy, featuring Zaerini and her blossoming romance with a certain snarky Red Wizard. The story is finished through BG1, BG2 and partway through ToB, but it will take me some time to revise and update it all. BG1 part is complete. The BG2 part Cards Reshuffled is ongoing. Cover art by the talented artastrophe, check her stuff out on Deviant Art!

19. Chapter 19

In The Cards 19 – Dark Influences

If some powerful being offers you power beyond belief in return for you being its 'vessel' you had best remember something very important. To become a vessel, you must first become empty. And vessels often tend to get broken and tossed aside.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

"So, my little sister still lives", Sarevok said in an emotionless voice. The large warrior was standing on top of the Iron Throne building, watching the city of Baldur's Gate spread out before him. So many people down there, scuttling about like busy little ants. So unaware of the meaning of true power. So unaware of the future. The air was heavy and oppressive, dark clouds were gathering. A storm was in the air.

"Yes", Winski Perorate said, having finished checking the wards against eavesdroppers, as he always did when they were about to discuss their 'private project'. "So the reports tell me. Honestly, I don't know what Tazok thinks he's doing, employing all these incompetent assassins. By now I'm sure they've cost us as much as it would have done hiring a good one in the first place."

"He underestimated her", Sarevok said. For a moment there was an almost admiring glint in his golden eyes, and the faintest hint of humor to his deep voice. "My sister has turned out to be more resourceful than even I expected. It seems her blood is stronger than is outwardly apparent."

"So, you underestimated her too", Winski said, a disapproving look on his face. "I hope you've learned your lesson."

Sarevok's muscles tensed like those of a lion about to leap and he raised his arm as if he were about to strike his old friend and mentor. Then he made a visible effort and the terrible rage faded from his face once more. "Perhaps I did", he admitted. "But no more. The people I've hired now aren't the idiots she's encountered so far. And if even they should fail, then I suppose I shall have to deal with her myself." He paused. "It is what I would prefer, were not all these machinations in the city hindering me. She has earned it, I think. The child of a god shouldn't be slain by mere mortals. No, it should be just the two of us. Brother and sister, together at last, the death of one serving the other. It will happen, Winski. My Father has shown it to me. He has promised me."

"She may be hard to find though. She seems to be constantly on the move. Even my best spells cannot detect her presence with any certainty."

"I will find her", Sarevok assured his mentor. "Or she will find me if she survives long enough. Sooner or later, blood will call out to blood." The unearthly light in his eyes flared once more. "We are two of a kind, though she is by far the weaker. She has felt the dreams, has tasted the bloodlust. She brings chaos along with her, she longs to ride the storms. And the storm is coming, Winski. I can feel it in my bones." A mailed hand pointed at the darkening sky.

"Perhaps", the mage said in a dry voice. "Though I would say that in a thunderstorm a large man in metal armor shouldn't stand about on top of the highest tower in the city."

Sarevok chuckled quietly. "But then, Winski, I am far more than just a man."

Elsewhere…

"There's going to be a storm", Zaerini said as she craned her neck backwards to watch the sky. The air was pressing in on her, she felt as if she couldn't breathe properly. But far above in the sky clouds were drawing together, dark clouds about to collide. Lightning and thunder, destruction on a god-like scale. But afterwards, she thought, afterwards the air will be clear once more.

"So it seems", Edwin said, sounding rather disinterested. "Now, in Thay, the weather wizards would take care of that in no time."

"I'm sure. Now give it a rest, you've been going on about Thay all day."

"I thought you were interested", Edwin said. "You should be if you want to travel there one day. (I'm doing something wrong, aren't I? She has to pay attention! She has to!)"

"Well, I am interested, but you've hardly talked about anything else since this morning. I'm starting to feel like you're about to sell me some lovely swamp land in Surthay."

"I…I don't know what you…"

"Oh, relax Eddie. I was only kidding; I know you wouldn't do that to me. I do trust you, you know."

"I know", Edwin said. He didn't look very happy about it though.

Probably the weather, Zaerini thought. It seems to have everybody on edge. She sighed and wiped her face. Her entire body felt sweaty and clammy, her clothes were clinging to her in a very awkward way, and her scalp was itching badly. I really, really need to wash my hair, she thought.

So go ahead, Softpaws said.

Not by licking it, thanks very much.

Suit yourself then. Oh look. There are people up ahead.

And so there were. The adventurers were in a mountainous area and nestled against the mountain ahead of them Zaerini could see an old ruin. It was mostly scattered stones in a roughly square shape, but she thought she could see where the walls had once been. Several men walked about the area, some of them poking at the ground but most of them occupied with something near the cliff wall. One of them seemed to be their leader. He was a man in his sixties, white-haired and slightly bent, though still strong and hale. He had a short white beard and sharp dark eyes, off-set by bushy white eyebrows. The sturdy brown garments he wore seemed practical enough, though Rini wondered a little about the hat, which looked rather as if some monster had eaten it and then spat it out again.

"Put yer backs to those shovels, men!" he cried out in a powerful voice with a slightly slurred accent. "If she's not out tonight we'll lose 'er to the bandito scum! It's not as if my scatter-brained son is here to help run them off. Gallivanting off to search for the Tablets Of Fate, honestly! Sometimes I wonder if he was dropped on his head as a baby." Then he saw the approaching stranger. "You there! State your business, but don't move from where you stand! I don't want to have to sic the boys on you!"

"Whoa!" Imoen said. "Take it easy, we're just passing through. We didn't mean to bother you."

"No? Good then. Sorry for the rough greeting, but it has surely been slow digging with bandits harassing us nightly. Charleston Nib, at your service. Also known as Mr Nib, Tomb Excavator, explorer and history teacher."

"That sounds interesting", Zaerini asked. "I take it that's a tomb you're excavating right over there?"

"Aye", the man said, his eyes glowing fanatically. "You are partially right, though it's not a tomb, but an ancient settlement. It is also all that remains of a primitive race long since extinct, and we know little about their culture save that they seem to have destroyed themselves in war. Perhaps today we will learn something more. We are just about to break through into an inner chamber, perhaps the dwelling of the village shaman himself. Mayhaps you could be of assistance to us? We need but keep the camp secure a short while longer. Your very presence would probably dissuade anyone from attacking us, though I do not know the force behind our misfortune. They seem to take great pleasure in minor sabotage and kidnapping, though some of the missing men may have just run off from fear. Nothing is ever stolen, which is odd for bandits, but they must still be the cause. Will you help us? As I said before, my son, Nib Junior, would normally be here to help me, but he's been detained with a project of his own."

Rini thought about this. The job actually sounded rather interesting, and the group would have to stop to make camp soon anyway. "Sure", she said. "We'll help you, as long as we get paid of course."

The man frowned a little. "We have little to offer, but would 50 gold suffice? It's all we can give, what with having to restock our camp thrice over. Damnable saboteurs! Your mere presence may be enough to discourage our mystery assailants. Are ye up for it? It would only be for a short while."

"All right, I guess. What do you want us to do?"

"Just wait here, I'll let you know when we clear the way to the inner chamber. I thank you for your assistance. And I'd certainly like to hear what kind of excuse Junior has this time for not showing up. Probably another sob story about giant snakes or evil cults…"

Hardly had the old man walked away before one of the diggers approached. He was a heavyset man with blond hair and an open and honest face. Or at least it looked open and honest. Zaerini thought his smile looked rather fake though. "Why, hello there", he said. "Could we just...step aside a moment and have a little chat away from prying ears?"

"I suppose", Rini said warily and followed him, motioning for her friends to stay behind. "What do you want?"

The man gave her a sideways look, as if he was sizing her up. "First, my name is Gallor. Second, we never had this conversation. I'm the "partner" of that old mister Charleston you met, except I'm none too thrilled about the non-profit aspects of the whole thing. The old man seems to think we should donate all our findings to some museum, whereas I am ever so much more practical. I should think certain people would pay dearly for the magical treasure we are about to unearth, and if they would be so eager, who are we to stand in their way? I would like you to steal the item and "remove" Mr. Nib from my little equation. You up to the task?"

Yeah, right, Rini thought. As if you'd pay me afterwards. No, I'm not going into partnership with somebody prepared to sell out his current partner. And besides, that Charleston seems like a nice old man. Let's see how much you know though.

"Magical treasure?", the bard asked. "I was under the impression that no one knows what is to be found there. Why are you so sure of its value?"

"Old mister Nib would never admit it, but that is mainly because he doesn't wish to jinx the dig. From what I could decipher in the ancient writings, the final room contains "the plate that provides bounty, leading food unto god." Doesn't take a genius to figure out what that means. Obviously, the item under all that dirt and rubble is enchanted such that it "provides bounty." Whether it's through increased crops or good hunting, I care not. Regardless, an object of that age and enchantment should command a hefty price and I intend to see that it does. You can be a part of it if you wish."

I bet I could. A part permanently entombed in that dig. Or possibly many parts, randomly scattered about the wilderness by scavengers. I'd almost trust Bhaal himself before you, my friend. Should I kill him right now? It would be satisfying, but I have no proof, and Charleston would think I was a bandit trying to fool him. Perhaps it is better to play this more subtly.

"It's a deal", Zaerini said. "Nib is as good as dead."

"Excellent", Gallor said, rubbing his hands. "But just you make sure you do not attack them until AFTER they have breached the inner sanctum. It's unlikely you could uncover the item without their help. I will meet with you here after the deed to make our exchange. Remember to get everyone! I will be the sole survivor to tell the tale." He returned to his supervision of the dig, whistling cheerfully to himself.

"What did he want?" Jaheira asked once Zaerini rejoined her friends again: The adventurers were sitting some distance away from the diggers, resting as they waited for the tomb to be breached.

"First you have to promise to keep your voice down", the bard said, wiping at her hot face with the back of her arm.

"Why?"

"Because otherwise you might get us all in trouble."

"He wants us to do something nasty, right?" Imoen asked.

Zaerini lowered her voice to a near whisper. "He wants us to kill old Nib and steal the magical treasure he thinks is inside that tomb."

"Magical treasure?" Edwin said. "What is it supposed to be?"

"Who knows. Probably it's nothing."

"W-w-w-we can't k-k-kill an innocent man", Khalid protested.

"I never said we would. But I told Greasy Gallor over there that we would." Then she explained her line of reasoning.

"I do not like it", Jaheira said in a blunt voice. "It is a dangerous game you play, child."

"But those are the games with the highest stakes", Edwin said. "I agree that we should not help this Gallor. (Though I might have seen things differently hadn't we already given our word to Nib. Yes, very differently indeed.)"

And so might I have done, Zaerini thought. The thought was a shocking one, but she recognized the truth of it. If Gallor had been more likable, if he'd presented his plan in a more subtle manner, less obviously greedy… Yes. I might have agreed to it. I am good at killing, after all. And…I can't pretend I don't like that, though it frightens me at times. It keeps me alive after all, this skill of mine. It has saved me more than once. I cannot turn my back on it and walk away, it's a part of who I am.

A voice whispered to the half-elf, a sibilant voice on the edge of her mind. YES, MY DAUGHTER. YOU SEE, DON'T YOU? EMBRACE YOUR NATURE, REVEL IN IT. IT WILL BRING YOU POWER, YOU KNOW THAT.

I am not yours, 'Father' Zaerini thought defiantly, struggling to keep the malevolent voice at bay. I am my own, and I will remain free.

YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE OF ME. YOU ARE TOO GOOD A KILLER, MY DAUGHTER. JUST…LIKE YOUR DEAR BROTHER.

I am, aren't I? Zaerini thought. But then again, I am not like him. You've conned him into trusting you, you've sold him hay and fooled him into believing it's pure gold. Maybe he wanted to be conned, somehow. But I don't, and I recognize a scam when I see one. This girl isn't buying your 'Genuine Elixir Of Power'. I've drunk enough badly spiced wine already, thank you. I'm not paying for it with my soul.

YOUR SOUL? The voice was raging now. YOU HAVE NO SOUL! YOU ARE A CONSTRUCT, MY CREATION MADE TO SERVE ME. I AM ALL YOU EVER HAD IN LIFE! NOW COME TO ME!

But you're wrong. You're not all I ever had. I…had Gorion. And were I what you say, he never would have loved me as I know he did. I know he loved me. I know. I…remember.

The presence of Bhaal faded and retreated, became a muted whisper in the back of her skull once more. "Gorion…" Zaerini whispered. "He did love me…"

"Of course, he did", Jaheira said and gave the bard a strange look. "Are you feeling ill?"

Zaerini shook her head. "It is nothing. It's just…this weather. I wish the storm would come soon and be done with it. I can't stand this clammy heat."

"Well, we are going inside the tomb now", Jaheira said. "Nib and his men have opened the entrance. Perhaps you will feel better once inside."

The tomb turned out to be more of a series of caves, none of them very cheerful. There were remnants of old fireplaces on the ground, old tools here and there. The walls were covered with paintings, paintings of strange symbols. Some of them were recognizable as people or animals, suns or lightning bolts. Others were just…strange. If you looked at them too long your eyes started to hurt, and then you could almost imagine them moving about, looking back at you. The air was stale and still, and Rini was really starting to get a headache.

Charleston led the adventurers through the caves, talking all the way. "Just through here", he said excitedly. "I believe it is the shaman's quarters. Finally, we will find out what these people were like."

Zaerini's headache was getting worse and her chest felt heavy, constricted. She noticed a stone sarcophagus on the floor of this final room. There was a skeleton next to it, lying on the ground with its hand stretched out as if in supplication. The diggers who had come into the cave with them were also starting to look uneasy.

"Hey, boss", one of them said. "I'm not feeling so good. Are you sure the air in here is all right?" He was sweating heavily, and his eyes were getting glassy. Zaerini just had time to wonder if the man was ill when his back suddenly straightened, and he faced her with a maniacal smile on his face. "KOZAH A PLET 'DAR CASS TOGLAH!" he screamed. "KOZAH!"

Other diggers raised equally hoarse voices, turned towards the sarcophagus and bowed to it. Their eyes were as empty as the words of Bhaal, Zaerini thought. Empty and hollow. "KOZAH A PLET 'DAR CASS TOGLAH! KOZAH!" Their voices were as one. "Q' AL TE-PAH KOZAH! SHE CAL KOZAH!"

Zaerini didn't understand the voices, but then it wasn't really necessary. The diggers turned like puppets manipulated by an unseen hand, they moved towards her with jerking, shambling movements, they raised spears above their heads. No time to think. No time to wonder about right or wrong. No time to do other than survive. Her sword was in her hand, gleaming coldly in the dark cave. And she let the sword speak, fighting equally hard to suppress the memory of her sire's voice. KILLER. DAUGHTER. KILLER.

When it was over the possessed men lay dead. Zaerini hoped they hadn't suffered too much. After all, it wasn't really they who had wanted to kill her.

"Awful", Charleston Nib muttered. "Simply awful." He gently pulled open the stone sarcophagus and pulled something out. It was a small idol, squat and ugly. "I...I think I can explain the madness that overcame my men", he said. "They seemed to scream in some ancient tongue, but I recognize the word "Kozah." It's the name of an ancient power; the name of a god of pandemonium. The tribe that lived here must have worshipped Kozah and the destruction he brought. The artifact that lies within this stone sarcophagus must be what has caused all of this bloodshed. Surely that artifact is cursed beyond belief! We should let it lie within this tomb forever. It's best that it never sees the light of day." With those words he replaced the idol.

"I have heard about Kozah the Stormstar as well", Edwin said. "An ancient god of storm, strife and rebellion who was worshipped by the ancient Netherese. His worship was forbidden, and his temples were often hidden, like this one."

More dead gods, Zaerini thought. As if one wasn't bad enough. "Let's get out of here", she said. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't like the looks of this 'Kozah' much."

Rini walked out of the room without looking back and hurriedly made her way back to the surface. Those men were…swallowed, she thought. Used by that ancient power, spat out and discarded. As simple as that. As simple as what Bhaal would like to do to me. As simple as what he's done to Sarevok, I think. He may think he's 'embraced' our sire's power. I…think he's surrendered to it.

Zaerini's musings were interrupted as she emerged from the cave. The sky was really dark by now and she could hear the first sound of thunder. That wasn't really what bothered her though. Gallor stood there, a triumphant smile on his face, and he was pointing a crossbow directly at her. "So, you betrayed me!" he said. "I should have known better than to trust a half-breed. I'll take the idol off your corpse then." And then he yelped as the crossbow flew out of his suddenly skinned and bleeding hand. A very small boy stood behind him, holding a very large slingshot.

"Don't you touch that idol!" he piped up. "It belongs in a museum."

"Actually, Junior", Charleston said, "I think it had better stay right where it is." He smartly rapped the whimpering Gallor over the head with his cane and the treacherous man subsided into an unconscious heap on the ground. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes, sir."

"I really could have used you to help with those bandits though."

"Sorry, sir."

"You should be. Now come on. I hear there's this ancient city supposedly hidden near Baldur's Gate…"

"Hey, cool!"

"Here you go", Nib said and handed Zaerini her payment. "50 gold, as promised. I must say, you have the makings of a fine tomb excavator, dear girl. Perhaps we'll meet you again." He walked off into the forest, his son following closely. Lightning bolts were trailing jagged blue light across the sky now, and thunder rumbled closely overhead.

"I don't know about this", Imoen said. "Looks like a really bad storm. "Shouldn't we go back inside after all?"

"In there?" Rini asked. "With all those corpses and that idol close by. No way. We're much safer out he…"

She interrupted herself at the sound of a booming shout. "IthNal cOR dan osa KOZAH! Rrrackne dall'a osa KOZAH!" A large armored warrior strode towards the warriors and for one insane moment Rini thought it was Sarevok, though his form was strangely blurred and unclear. But this armor wasn't spiky enough, and Sarevok's sword, while frightening, hadn't been on fire. Wonderful, she thought. Good old Kozah again.

"What do you want?" Jaheira asked in an admirably calm voice. "I cannot understand you."

"Nottt for theeee to underssstand...", the apparition stated. "Neeeed only dieeee while youuu hold...idolll does soo commannnnd...Eltor anSle osa KOZAH!" It swung its flaming sword wildly at Khalid who only narrowly managed to dodge it.

"The sword!" Imoen cried out as she fired an arrow. "It's transparent! I think it's not really real." It was real enough though. Edwin had summoned up a group of Xvarts and the small blue men were rapidly getting hacked to pieces. They did help keep the ghostly warrior away though. And then Jaheira cast a spell that made the flaming sword flicker white for a moment before it faded like an extinguished candle. The warrior roared as his shape suddenly became easier to see than before, and a violent blow of his mailed fist hit the druid in the ribs and sent her flying. Zaerini was casting spells as rapidly as she could, acid arrows that made the creature roar with pain, but she didn't have many left. Finally, Khalid, by now battered and bloody, managed to pierce the armor between neck and helmet. A violent red light flared up against the spectral warrior and it faded into nothingness with a final scream of "KOZAH! The idolllll…"

For a few seconds the adventurers just looked at each other, grateful that they were all alive. Jaheira winced slightly as she touched her side and Zaerini knew that the druid had to be in great pain. Imoen shivered. "But I don't understand", the pink-haired thief said. "That…that thing…it was after the idol, wasn't it? But we left it in the cave, so why would it go after us?"

"I don't know", Zaerini said slowly. Then a thought struck her and for a moment her eyes burned hot with golden fire. Then it subsided back into a dangerous glimmer. "Unless… unless somebody picked it up again. Oh, Edwin… You were the last one out, weren't you? Would you happen to know something about this, perhaps? Did you see who did this?"

"Er…" Edwin said. He had a suspiciously innocent look on his face, and it suited him about as well as a fluffy feather boa would have done. "I have no idea what you are talking about. (I certainly have no particular interest in moldy old Netherese idols. Not me.)"

"Oh really?" Rini was baring her teeth now in something that almost, but not quite, was a smile. "Then you won't mind handing it over to me, will you? Or do you want me to do a full body search?"

"Actually…"

"Better yet", the bard said. "I think I might let Jaheira do it. You don't mind, do you Jaheira?"

The druid cracked her knuckles and gave Edwin an ominous glare. "It would be my pleasure" she said.

Edwin paled a little. "Oh, all right", he said sullenly. "Take it then. (It is probably out of power by now anyway.)" He handed Zaerini the ugly idol.

"How kind", the redheaded half-elf said in a sarcastic voice. "If you've got any other cursed items that might suddenly summon undead warriors into existence, I suggest telling us all about it now rather than later. No?" She violently threw the idol into the cave and was satisfied to hear it bounce down the stairs. "Take that Kozah!" she cried out. "I'm nobody's servant!" Then she fired her lightning wand at the rocks above the entrance and was satisfied to see a large heap of boulders crash down to block the opening. "And that", she said, "is what I think of dead old gods. They're much better off buried."

Deep within the Wood of Sharp Teeth….

"You there! You think you are someone, don't you?" The voice was harsh, aggressive and insistent. Clearly the speaker didn't really care whether the answer to his question was 'yes' or 'no'. He was spoiling for a fight and wouldn't settle for anything else.

Oh well, Dekaras thought. It had to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it over and done with. The assassin turned around slowly and regarded the man who had addressed him with a sense of mild curiosity. The bandit was a rather typical specimen. Fairly large and brawny, not particularly bright. This was a minor bully, not one of the true bandit leaders. He probably could be vicious in a fight, but in a random, disorganized way.

"Certainly, I think I am someone", Dekaras calmly stated. "Everybody is. For example, you are an idiot with the approximate intelligence of a mindflayer's latest meal, and you smell like a Tanar'ri's unwashed armpit. On the positive side, you are also a rare freak of nature. I have never before seen a man able to walk backwards on his hands and project his voice so that it seemed to emerge from his nether regions. That is certainly an extraordinary talent. Oh, wait. My mistake. That is your mouth after all and not your…posterior orifice. And I suppose that means that is your face. My sincere condolences."

The bandit's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a few moments as he worked his way through this. Then his face turned a reddish purple with rage, and he drew his sword. "You…you're calling me a…a…BUTTFACE?"

"That was the essence of it, yes. Whereas I, of course, am the person who is about ten seconds away from teaching you more than you ever wished to know about the sad frailty of the human condition. Unless you'd like to change your mind and walk away right now."

The bandit, whose name was Rarhk, wasn't very interested in this. He ran at his enemy, sword waving and spittle flying. Like most of his peers he relied heavily on the advantage of numbers when fighting. In a one-on-one affair his strength and brutal ferociousness usually served him well enough, but he didn't possess much technical skill. So, he charged like a maddened bull at the taunting voice in front of him, almost blind with rage, planning to use his bulk and wider reach to make short work of his lighter enemy. Alas, his sword whistled impotently through empty air, and then there was a searing pain in his belly, a pain like nothing he had ever felt before. The sword fell to the ground, forgotten. There was a hole in his tunic, a large hole. Blood against his fingers as he pressed both his hands against the hole, hot blood. And…other things. Protruding, slimy things like a wriggling nest of serpents trying to break free. Was it the snakes who were biting him, he wondered? Was it they who were making him whimper with excruciating pain?

"What…", Rarhk moaned. "What?"

"Judging by the color, texture and length I'd say it's your upper intestine", Dekaras said in a dispassionate voice, his black eyes as expressionless as those of a serpent as he watched the mortally wounded bandit. There was a wet noise as something landed on the ground. "Yes, definitely so. Do be careful not to…" The bandit stumbled and a scream that sounded inhuman in its agony tore through the air. "…trip over it", the assassin finished the sentence. He hastily moved forward, cutting the dying man's throat before he could scream again. Then he turned his head to blast the watching bandits with an icy glare. "Funny how few are wise enough to walk away", he said. "So. Does anybody else require a lesson in practical anatomy or are we quite finished with these childish antics?"

Most of the bandits looked pale and wary, some even seemed ready to soil themselves as they met the calm gaze of the assassin. A few looked genuinely approving though, and those were the ones that really disgusted him. He much preferred to deliver a clean kill if possible. At this moment that was not the most practical approach though. These men respected strength and viciousness above anything else, and that was what would make an impression with them. By making this one death as bloody as possible he would scare enough of them off that he would not have to spend much time on petty little challenges for dominance like this one. However, he also needed to establish that these little caravan-robbers would be safe enough if they behaved themselves. He did not want them to decide to gang up on him after all.

"I trust you are all able to learn from the sad mistakes of others", Dekaras said, now lowering his voice to a soft drawl. "Do so, remember your manners, and we shall all get along just fine. If not, well let us just say that I don't take kindly to provocation. Does anybody have any questions?"

Some of the bandits shook their heads in mute fear, others hastily muttered their negations. Eventually they all drifted off. All of them but one. Dekaras knew him by sight. His name was Raiken, and he was sub-commander of half the Black Talon forces. His counterpart's name was Teven, and by all accounts the two men were fierce rivals. They probably would have liked nothing better than fighting each other to the death if it hadn't been for the leader of the Talons, Taugosz Khosann, also known as Taugosz Tenhammer. A hard and hot-tempered man, Taugosz would tolerate fights between the ordinary bandits as means of relieving tension and 'culling the herd' of all but the hardiest, but he wouldn't stand for his two lieutenants openly going for each other's throats.

So Raiken and Teven had found other ways of competing, and constantly attempted to outshine each other, whether it came to raiding, looting, recruiting, gambling or drinking each other under the table. Tension ran high in the bandit camp due to this, and then there were the hobgoblins. Fierce marauders calling themselves 'the Chill', they stayed in a separate part of the camp, away from the others. Dekaras was planning to take a closer look at them later once he was firmly established among the Talons. That task still was not complete though.

"I was watching that", Raiken said. He was a lean man with a leathery face and sun-bleached hair like thinning straw. His voice was slow and steady, but as he spoke, he constantly fingered the hilt of his sword, a sign that he wasn't quite as confident as he would like to seem. "Impressive. Most impressive."

Dekaras made a point of carefully cleaning and sheathing his own shortsword before answering. "My thanks", he said in a neutral voice. "I thought it a rather pointless little squabble, myself."

"Oh? Then I would really like to see you in a disagreement where you are emotionally involved."

Trust me, you wouldn't. You really wouldn't. The assassin gave the Black Talon a look of polite disinterest but said nothing. After a moment, the other man looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I have seen you around before", Raiken said, "but I don't believe I know your name."

"Adahn", Dekaras said, having selected the alias previously as easy on the tongue and suitably neutral in flavor.

"Adahn? What else?"

The assassin smiled thinly. "What else do you need? One name is good enough for me, and ought to be so for anybody else as well."

Raiken chuckled quietly to himself. "Very well, Adahn. I like your style. And you certainly have made an impression with the lads. Now tell me, who was it that recruited you? Taugosz himself? That dirty little rat Teven? Or one of the…higher ups?"

Higher ups, Dekaras thought. Interesting. This Tazok that Edwin mentioned would be one of them, I assume. I will have to find out more about this later. Out loud he simply said, "Who do you suppose?" and favored Raiken with a meaningful glance.

"Then it was that bastard Teven!" Raiken exclaimed and angrily slammed his fist into his hand. "Trust him to bag one of the most promising recruits I've seen in a long while, the dirty sneaking scumbag!" Then he lowered his voice into a companionable whisper. "Tell you what, my friend. I have a profitable suggestion for you. It would suit my…aspirations…to let Tenhammer assume certain things. It may happen that you hear my name mentioned rather than Teven's as the one who…discovered you. Just keep silent on the subject and you will find that I can be a grateful man to those who aid me." He surreptitiously showed the assassin a small purse and shook it to make it jingle merrily.

Dekaras smiled inwardly. He had hoped for something like this, though he hadn't dared fully count on it. "Why not?" he said and accepted the money. "It doesn't sound like a particularly difficult task. You may trust me not to gainsay you."

Raiken gave him a feral grin. "Excellent!" he said. "I thought you seemed like a clever man. I shall be happy to see more of you in the future." He nodded and walked off, looking very satisfied with himself.

The sun was climbing higher by the minute and noon was approaching. Many of the bandits had already headed off to get their midday meal, or else where resting in their tents. There had been a large raid a couple of days previously, and the men were enjoying the spoils of their victory. Dekaras wasn't quite ready to follow their example though. During his conversation with Raiken he had thought he had glimpsed a shadow where none should have been, a presence at the corner of his eye, though too far away to listen in on what was said. If he were correct in his assumption the watcher would make himself known soon, one way or another. The assassin lazily strolled towards the spot where the man was hiding. "Yes?" he politely asked once he was close enough. "You wanted to see me about something?"

There was a brief gasp and then the watcher caught himself. "Aye", Teven said. "So I did." Teven was a small man, and with his twitchy face and beady little eyes he did bear a certain resemblance to a rat. He was still a dangerous opponent though, compensating for his small size with speed and agility. "I been watchin' ye", he said.

"So I gathered", Dekaras said in a thoughtful voice, tapping a long finger against his lower lip. "And what did you see, pray tell?"

"I seen a fella smart enough to know what's good for 'im and to know which way the wind's ablowin'." Teven gave the assassin a sidelong look. "What's yer name, eh? Are ye…close friends with tha' dirty rotter Raiken, then?"

"I barely know him", Dekaras answered, quite truthfully. "And you may call me Adahn."

"Oh, aye? And are ye tellin' me he's nay the one that recruited ye into the Talons?"

"You have a right to your own opinions", Dekaras said and made himself look a trifle bored.

"Oh, so it was him then. As I thought. I know me business. But somethin' tells me his claim on ye ain't that strong… Here's the deal then, an' a sweeter one ye'll never find. Ye're good at killin', a blind mole could tell that. Taugosz will like ye, I think. Jus' pretend to be deaf an' dumb when ye hears me tell 'im about hirin' ye, an' ye will nay regret it." He smiled slyly and produced a bag of coins that he shook to make it clink.

"I suppose that could be arranged", Dekaras said and accepted the bribe, forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression despite the humorous nature of the situation. "I'm not above easy work."

"Good on ye!" Teven said and heartily shook the other man's hand. "'tis all settled then. Raiken will be mad enough to choke, the filthy sod…" He was still chortling happily as he disappeared around a corner.

What an interesting turn of events, Dekaras thought to himself. Next I'll probably be hired by the Chill. He smiled to himself. Everything was working out perfectly so far. Raiken and Teven now both believed themselves to have lured him away from the service of the other. In the event of an argument they would both call the other a liar, while both assuming themselves to be the one at fault. He had hoped that their legendary rivalry would be enough to goad them both into this, and apparently, he had been right. That meant he could safely leave them both alive for now and continue to play them against each other if necessary. His position among the bandits was reasonably secure for the time being. Now to start taking full advantage of it.

It was midday when the party came upon the caravan. The sun was high in the sky and the air was still, making the buzzing of the flies all the more audible. The smell hit Zaerini's nostrils at about the same time. The smell of rotting flesh, putrid and stinking, it was enough to make her eyes water.

"What is that?" Imoen asked as she pressed a handkerchief to her nose to keep from gagging. "It smells like…like…"

"Death", Edwin said and pointed at something on the ground. A broken wagon wheel, mute witness of some terrible occurrence. "I'd say we've found one of those missing caravans."

"You have", said a strange voice from behind a tree. A woman stepped into the sunlight and gave the adventurer's a wary look. It was hard to determine her age. She might be only thirty or so, but her hair was white, and she looked weighted down with some terrible grief. Her eyes were pleading and desperate, but without true hope.

"Who are you?" Jaheira asked. "And what have you to do with this?"

"Nothing", the woman said. A spasm of pain crossed her face. "Nothing, except having seen the full horror of it, too late to do anything about it. I am Laryssa, if my name matters among all this needless bloodshed. Death walks close by, and it wears my dear cousin's face." Her face twisted with unwanted remembrance, and she wrung her hands. "Please, I beg of you to go no further! Brage is there, strewn about with the carnage he has wrought. I have tried to reason with him, but it is as if he is possessed by another's soul. It was all I could do to flee the swing of his tremendous blade. Please, unless you wish to witness madness in a once-good man, leave him be and pray the spirit leaves him in good time."

"Brage?" Zaerini asked. "The Captain of the Nashkel Guard?"

"Aye", Laryssa said. "Before this curse befell him, he was Captain of the Guard in Nashkel. I am his cousin, Laryssa. For all the bonds of love and blood, save him from his present agony if there be a way to do so."

"How can you defend this man, cousin or not?" Jaheira asked with a dismissive shake of her head. "We have heard of what he did. Did he not slaughter his entire family, wife and children both? Such are the actions of a monster, not a human being!"

"My cousin is no monster!" Laryssa angrily protested. "He is still a man, but a man insane. He would never have done such a thing had he been himself. He loved his wife; he loved his children. He was a good man, a strong man. Never would he murder his own family or harmless travelers like this were he not under some dark influence." She paused, and tears came into her eyes. "I hate the things that he has done", she said in a quiet voice. "But he is my cousin, who was always as close to me as a brother. I hate his actions, but I still love him. I beg of you, do not harm him."

Zaerini looked at the woman. Laryssa seemed perfectly sincere, and the bard felt touched by her sorrow. Dark influence, she thought. At least I know what that feels like. And she truly loves him.

"I will try", she said. "But I can promise you nothing. If it becomes necessary, I'm going to have to defend myself."

"I understand", Laryssa said and bowed her head. "I…will wait here. Please, just…just try."

The stench of death grew stronger as the adventurers pressed on through the forest, as did the buzzing of the flies. Eventually they emerged into a clearing and were greeted by a terrible sight. Wagons broken on the ground, goods carelessly tossed about, they were the least of it. The corpses were everywhere. A dead horse lay close by, its dark coat covered with blood. Its mouth was still open in a silent scream. Flies crawled all over it, a black and buzzing cloud. And then Rini turned her head and saw the other, smaller bodies. Humans, she thought. Men, women, even children. Not that it was very easy to tell which was which anymore. Their bodies…their bodies were…in…in pieces. Many pieces.

Rini found herself staring, unable to look away, unable to focus her thought. Wild, disjointed images burned themselves into her brain. Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. Something round on the ground, something that might have been a rock but wasn't. Flies covering it like a crawling black beard, broken eyes staring sightlessly into the glaring light of the sun. A woman's arm, stretched out as if in supplication, fingers reaching for the sky. Where is the rest of her? And then the smallest bodies, the ones that were the worst to look at.

Behind her Zaerini could hear Imoen vomiting noisily onto the ground, Khalid stammering words of comfort in a terrified voice. "Sil-Silvanus preserve their souls", Jaheira whispered, and there was true horror in the druid's voice as she saw the carnage.

"Senseless", Edwin whispered. "The man must be truly insane to take pleasure in such random slaughter. We must be prepared to kill him quickly; he will likely be extremely dangerous."

Zaerini didn't answer. The buzzing of the flies resembled the voice of Bhaal, gorging on the dead, getting fat and bloated on their suffering. Reveling in it. The image of Gorion came back to her, lying on blood-soaked ground in a forest so similar to this one, cut down like these people had been as he tried to defend her. As these dead had tried to defend their children, tried and failed. She heard a soft noise, and knew that it was herself, moaning quietly. So easy to give in to the hate, so easy to let it bloom into mindless rage.

Steady kitten, Softpaws warned. The black cat twined herself around the half-elf's legs and watched her with unwavering green eyes. The way to trap a rabid beast is not to become one. You must keep control of yourself if you wish to overcome your father's killer.

I…know. But it is hard. So hard.

I am here to help you, kitten. Always.

And then he came. Brage strode out of the forest, sword in hand and stopped dead as he saw the adventurers. He was a tall man, strong and powerful, with fair hair and a rather handsome face. The sword he carried was a beautiful one, very large and decorated with red stones at the hilt. The blade glittered coldly as the sun reflected off it, but not as coldly as the Guard Captain's ice-blue eyes. They were empty those eyes, hard and shallow like precious stones. And yet…not entirely empty. There was something beneath the surface, Zaerini thought. Some remnant of frantic emotion, like a man trapped behind a thick sheet of glass, unable to speak, unable to move.

"Greetings, playthings", Brage said in a melodious voice. "You have found me…where I alone could not."

"Oh, lovely", Edwin said. "Another madman. Listen, Mr-Armed-and-dangerous, why don't you just drop the sword? Or do you want me to tell my invisible army of dragons to fry you to a crisp, you soft-brained child-killer? (A flame arrow up his nose sounds lovely too, but I'm sure there isn't much brain left to damage.)"

Brage ignored him and focused on the red-haired half-elf. "I pray you left a trail of crumbs to lead us all back again", he said. "The others did not, so they have decided to stay. Shall we try to find the way home together? I pose to you a riddle, the answer to which I once knew, but now cannot perceive. Remind me, and we shall all return unto the day. Fail, and stay with me in the dark, forgetting whence we came... " That faint hint of desperation in his eyes grew as he spoke. "It has neither mouth, nor teeth", Brage went on. "Yet, it eats its food steadily. It has neither village, nor home, nor hands, nor feet; yet it wanders everywhere. It has neither country, nor means, nor office, nor pen; yet it is ready for fight - always. By day and by night there is wailing about it. It has no breath, yet to all it appears."

Zaerini didn't doubt for a second that he would try to kill her if she gave the wrong answer or refused to try. Fortunately, she had always been good with riddles and puzzles, and the answer to this one was right in front of her, as well as her constant companion and the subject of her darkest thoughts. "Death", she said. "The answer is 'death'."

Brage's face convulsed with violent tremors, like a mask about to crack. "I…am myself again", he whispered. "I…I am…" His eyes took in the destruction around him, the sad remains on the ground, and the sword fell from his nerveless and shaking fingers. "No", he whispered, and now it seemed that he was seeing not what was in front of him but some horror of another time and place. "No…NOOOOOOO!" The scream was heart-wrenching, the sound of a soul in torment, a soul longing for oblivion. "My own children", Brage sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "My beloved wife…all these other innocents. I did that. ME! The…the voice in my head, it called to me…and I listened. Helm help me, I listened to it!" His shoulder shook violently as he buried his head in his hands, sobs torn raw and bleeding from the bottom of his heart.

It would be so easy to kill him now, Rini thought. No doubt many would thank me. But…I can't.

" I will welcome the block that must await me at Nashkel!" Brage said in a dead, hollow voice. "How could I live with what I've done! Please, you must guide me to the town that I might pay for my crimes! I fear I can keep my senses for only so long, and I must not be allowed to do this again! Too many good people have lost their lives to me! Please..." He started sobbing again, but this time no sound emerged from his lips. He was simply shaking with quiet agony.

"No", Zaerini said and stepped up to the crying man, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You will come with us, yes. But I will not give you over to be hanged. There may be healing to be had for you in the temple."

"Child, be careful", Jaheira warned. "He is dangerous, he may turn on you any moment."

"I don't think so", Rini said. She watched Brage's sword. There was a dark miasma around it, almost invisible unless you suspected its presence. A curse, a curse strong enough to make a man turn his back on himself and destroy everything he ever loved, destroying himself in the process. "It was the sword, not all him. There is a curse on it, a strong one. It used him to kill all those people. It might have happened to anybody." She turned to the Guard Captain again. "Do you understand?" she asked. "I would kill you if you were still a threat. But I don't think you are."

Brage's face was puzzled and confused. "But…I deserve to die for what I've done. Why…why would you do this? Why should you care so about my fate?"

The half-elf was silent for a moment. "Because", she said. "Because I know what it's like to be under a curse, to have an alien presence goading me on. Because I know what it is like to know the darkness of your own soul and to love and hate it at the same time."

"I…I do wish to atone for my actions. But how can I, if I live?"

Zaerini gave him a small smile. "How can you, if you're dead? I can't make you stay alive of course, but I ask you to, all the same. Think of it as your payment if you will, my price for freeing you. Or as a favor if you so prefer. A favor to one of your own kind whose curse will be less easily lifted. And a favor to your cousin who still loves you."

"Laryssa? She…is here?"

"I am." Laryssa came up from behind, her attention totally focused on her cousin. "I am sorry", she told Zaerini. "I could not stand to remain behind. I had to see for myself what happened." Then she walked up to her cousin and put her arms around him. "You are back", she said in a quiet voice. "I hardly dare believe it."

Brage tried to pull away. "Laryssa, don't. You…you don't know what I did."

Laryssa took his head between her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "But I do", she said. "I know you were overcome by a curse, and I know what that curse made you do."

"Then how can you still claim to love me? How can you even bare to touch me? I don't deserve your love."

The white-haired woman smiled. "Oh, my cousin. You really don't understand. Love doesn't obey the laws of humans, and it doesn't care about who 'deserves' it. I still love you like a brother despite the terrible things you did. Now come with us to the temple to make your atonement, and one day you may even be able to love yourself again."

Do you still hate this man, kitten? Softpaws asked in a curious voice.

No. No, I don't. How can I? It might as well have been me. The half-elf's face turned solemn. In her mind's eye she saw the flash of a large sword, golden eyes glowing with hate and rage. It…might as well have been me.