Chapter 146: The Way Out is Through
The third rocky pit they had to scramble out of felt even steeper and rockier than the ones before; to Ember, it seemed like every step she made triggered a tiny landslide, and she found herself using her hands at least as much as her feet as she climbed. At least I don't have to carry that sword any more, she mused gratefully. Her skin crawled at the memory of the sword Blackrazor, which had been thrust upon her by a Tanar'ri who insisted it was key to getting one of the Tears. The sword had made her current blade seem like a dull sickle and her old Sharran blade, Varscona, feel like a friendly kitten; the evil that radiated from it had made even just touching the hilt a repulsive act. Repulsive, and tantalizing... she'd been more than relieved when the genie who held the third Tear had accepted an exchange as a means of getting the Tear from him.
"Not much longer," Minsc said. He clambered up the final few steps to the edge of the pit in a shower of pebbles and red dust, and then helped Imoen and Ember climb the rest of the way. Soon, they were all back in the main cavern, panting and brushing dust from their clothes.
"Could we rest a bit?" Ember asked. The climb had been tiring, and the persistent, aching tug in her chest was bothering her. She sat down on a broken statue near the edge of the pit.
"Good idea," her sister said, and plopped down beside her. "Wish we had some water, too."
"Even if there were water here, I doubt it'd be wise to drink it."
"Or how about food," Imoen continued longingly. "An apple, some bread, a pat of butter..."
"You will get out soon, and then you can have whatever you want!" Minsc said with a smile. He was leaning against a shattered pillar.
Ember chuckled softly to herself; he, at least, seemed certain they'd get through this place. "But what about you?" she asked.
"I will go to the Great Halls of my people, where every night is a feast! We eat and drink and laugh, and listen to stories of great deeds."
"You'll have some stories to share of your own, huh?" Imoen said.
To Ember's surprise, Minsc shook his head. "No. I will listen. The telling is for the warriors."
"The warriors?" Imoen asked. "How are you not... wait. This isn't a dajemma thing, is it?"
"I will not be the only listener," Minsc insisted. "There are many who die before the dajemma is complete. There are even some who never try at all!"
"But what was it that you still had to do?" Ember asked in disbelief. She'd thought he'd completed his dajemma on the Sword Coast - but he'd never talked much about it, had he? And he'd never actually mentioned finishing...
"I needed a new task, but I didn't do it the proper way," Minsc explained, sounding a little embarrassed. "I should have asked when you became my witches. I was going to do it as soon as your own task was completed, but then we were captured. So I decided my dajemma would be to free you."
Ember nodded slowly. She was beginning to understand. "When we got out of the dungeon, Imoen was taken. And when we reached Imoen... but Minsc, how can everything you've done count for nothing?"
"It is the rules," he simply said.
There was a deep rumbling sound as yet another cluster of statues collapsed, revealing yet another dark pit. Ember sighed. "Seems like this place is impatient for us to continue."
Minsc stood up straight. "If you are ready, so am I."
Ember pondered Minsc's words as they climbed down into the pit. It struck her as deeply unfair that he should be considered a lesser man in the afterlife of his people, but if the rules were that stringent... She wished he'd told them sooner. She wished she'd thought to ask. Beside her, Imoen was suggesting various things he'd done that she thought should qualify, but Minsc gently rebuffed her; a dajemma could not be decreed in hindsight, he said. As far as Ember was concerned, his calmness about it alone ought to earn him something. Damn their rules!
She stumbled over a large, loose rock, losing her balance for a moment; as she regained her footing, she heard a chortling sound ahead. A Tanar'ri stood there, and if it was at all possible for such a creature to look smarmy, this one did. "Do I amuse you?" she asked sourly.
"Of course not, Child. Why, I welcome you." The Tanar'ri stepped aside, revealing an empty doorway behind it. "A Tear of Bhaal lies very close to here. In fact, it is just beyond this room before you."
"And what's in the room?" Ember asked. She saw nothing but darkness through the opening.
"You have encountered many times in your existence where you have been forced to swallow your fear, no? You have fought off terror that would overwhelm a lesser being and shown courage, instead." The Tanar'ri grinned. "Pass through this room and your vaunted courage shall be challenged, Child of Bhaal."
She did not like the sound of that. She did not like it at all.
"Yes, you shall indeed be challenged," the Tanar'ri continued. "I have something I will offer, however, which will make it so much easier for you, Child. You know, like so many with power, that items of magic can do much that the ordinary man cannot..."
Out of nowhere, a bundle of pale leather appeared in the Tanar'ri's hands.
"...such as a cloak, for instance. Stitched together from the flayed skins of lovely nymphs. Wear this, and panic will never overcome you again. I bow to the power of your divine soul, Child, and offer this cloak up to you... if you wish it."
Ember stared at the repulsive garment. The thought of wearing it was abhorrent, even if it should protect her from what she was certain lay ahead; as much as she hated fear spells, they couldn't last forever - could they? "Imoen?" she murmured worriedly, and glanced at her sister.
"I can ward us," Imoen said in a low voice. "It'll be all right."
"Keep your cloak," Ember told the Tanar'ri, who once again grinned at her.
"Then you choose to rely on your own power and bravery. It shall be as you wish, Child of Bhaal. Enter as you will." The Tanar'ri gave them a slight bow, and vanished.
"Well," Ember said nervously. "Immy?"
"Just a moment," Imoen said. She cast a short spell, and Ember felt something calm and soothing wash over her. "There, all set!"
Drawing a deep breath, Ember walked towards the doorway. She reached the threshold, stepped across it -
Imoen's protection was stripped from her. In the next moment, illusion faded away, and she realized where she really was.
She was in Irenicus's dungeon - had never left it - and all she had accomplished was to escape from her cage.
No! she screamed inwardly, knowing it was to no avail. It had all been a trick. A trap. A test. He was nearby - had to be nearby - and if she moved at all, he would find her. She tried to press her back against the cold, slimy dungeon wall behind her, willing herself to not even breathe, to become invisible - and then Minsc was beside her, howling with anguish. He saw her and grabbed her arm and before she could do anything he lifted her and threw her across the room. She landed painfully near a set of glass jars - cloning jars, soul-stealing jars, so versatile! - and scrambled for cover, but there was none, none at all, and she curled up in a ball, making herself as small as possible.
She heard her own breathing and Minsc's continued wails of desperation. Why wouldn't he be quiet? She wanted to tell him, to beg him to be silent, but she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth; who knew which sound would be the one that drew Irenicus? She... between the glass jars, she saw a glittering, tear shaped crystal, with sharp edges that would maim anyone who touched it. She needed it. They needed it. It was so close, not even an arm's length away, but if she were to reach for it... he would find her, then and there, and return her to her cage, and the experiments would resume. She was a fool to think she'd forgotten; now, memories spilled forth, vivid in every detail: how he'd cut, and burn, and shock her, or leave her for days without food or water, or make her friends watch helplessly as he sliced her arms open to the bone and let her bleed to the brink of unconsciousness but never beyond; the long aching days waiting for her body to recover only to be ripped apart again; the many times she'd wished for her own death as well as his. Her torment would start all over, and this time... there would be no end.
But even so, she needed that crystal.
But if she didn't move, maybe she wouldn't be found for a while.
But she needed that crystal.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she slowly reached for the crystal. Her fingers almost touched it; she hesitated, pulled back, closed her eyes, then let her fingers close around the razor sharp edges -
She was in hell. The fourth tear rested in her hands, and everything and everyone she remembered was real.
"Em, you did it," Imoen cried. "You broke the spell!" She and Minsc were at the doorway, but now they came to where Ember sat on the floor and crouched beside her; Ember wrapped her arms tightly around her sister, while Minsc hugged them both. They were all safe; all real; all still in hell.
"I want to go home," Ember whimpered, sobbing into her sister's shoulder.
-.-.-
The fifth crumbled section opened into yet another dark cave, but its descent was nowhere near as steep as the other ones. It gave Ember no consolation; steep or shallow, there would still be something there that they'd have to deal with.
Raising her hand to her throat, she gently touched the illithium amulet that rested there. She could recall that Anomen had put it on her outside the Temple after his restoration, and she remembered him fastening it around her neck in Athkatla, a thousand lifetimes ago. The memories were as real as the amulet; he was real, and he still loved her. But would she ever see him again? What if... No. Don't. You have to keep going.
She thrust her thoughts aside and walked slowly forward, looking for the ubiquitous Tanar'ri, but didn't see any. The cave was eerily silent, almost as if...
"Imoen? Minsc?" she called, but even as her question echoed in the cave and she turned around to look for them, she knew she was alone. Worse, she couldn't see where she'd come from.
In the distance, a deep voice laughed.
Her heart pounding in her chest, she waited as the laughter came closer. A figure approached; a figure in spiked armour, wielding a sword even larger than Minsc's.
Sarevok.
"So we meet again, sister," Sarevok said. "How fitting that our reunion should be in this place of retribution."
She drew her blade. "Is it really you?"
"It is I. Or an echo, perhaps. Does it matter?"
She shook her head.
"No, it does not. What matters is this: I have one of the Tears you need, and I will not let you have it. You do not deserve it."
"Is that so?"
"You are weak and a coward. What are you without your friends? You could not even kill me yourself," Sarevok snarled at her. "This realm was rightfully mine! Had I spitted you on my blade along with that pathetic wizard, Gorion, I'd -"
"Do not speak of Gorion," Ember snapped.
Sarevok laughed. "Yes, stoke that infernal wrath of yours. You feel it, do you not? The anger within you... the taint that surrounds your soul like a serpent, squeezing it, spreading its venom. That taint, that wrath, exists in all of us... but few know how to use it." He looked at her, his eyes glowing. "You have become the Slayer, have you not? Yes... I see it behind your eyes. Summon your wrath for me - if you can."
She stared at him. "You're mad!"
"I can teach you how to use your wrath," he said. "You can control the taint, direct it, summon it at will! You can become the Slayer at will and become the weapon of murder that you were meant to be!"
"That's not -"
"So think of me! Think of how I destroyed your precious Gorion! How I plundered the lives of your Candlekeep! Summon your rage, stir the depths of your black heart! Summon wrath! Summon wrath and become it! Because if you cannot, then you are not worth your destiny! It should have been I! It should have been I! ATTACK ME, WORM, IF YOU DARE!"
"NO!"
"THEN I SHALL CRUSH YOU WHERE YOU STAND!"
Ember barely managed to dodge out of the way before Sarevok's greatsword cut through the air where she'd stood. She scrambled to her feet and assumed a battle stance. Her bloodlust was rising, urging her to attack, but she forced herself to breathe slowly, quashing instinct with a quiet rage of her own; after everything she'd been through, she would not be simply goaded into succumbing!
He charged again, and she moved to slash at his shoulder, then feinted sideways and out of his path. "COWARD!" he bellowed.
"Fool!" she shouted back. Focus! she told herself. His reach was longer than hers. How could she get close enough without getting killed? She dodged another attack and rolled away from him; the edge of his blade smashed into the rocky ground.
"You never understood, did you?" she cried, moving towards the cover of a fragmented pillar. "All that time studying the prophecies, killing so many people to make them happen, and you never figured out that the taint would destroy you? What made you think you would become a god?!"
"UNWORTHY WEAKLING!" Sarevok shouted, charging towards her again. His sword was stained with red dust; it almost looked like blood.
She reached inside herself, hunting for the light that surrounded the raging void in her core, and found it. It was fainter and more unsteady than it had been in the past, but it was undeniably there. She grasped it and drew upon it; a surge of warmth filled her, growing hotter and brighter until it became flames, coursing through her and strengthening her, and she ran towards Sarevok, her blade raised as if to strike just as his was. She pretended to dodge left, and he brought his blade down to follow; she changed her course and barreled into him, using all her enhanced strength to push him down, then pinned him to the ground with her legs and seized his head with both hands.
"The fire is mine," she growled at him, and twisted.
There were no golden sparks this time. Sarevok's body simply faded away, leaving a glittering Tear behind. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands.
-.-.-
"There you are!" Minsc cried out. "Where did you go?"
Ember held out the Tear. "We can open the door now," she said, a little surprised at how calm she felt.
"Em... your eyes are glowing," Imoen said.
They are? She reached up and touched her face. "It's all right," she said.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes. I am ready, I think." She clasped the last Tear in her hand. "It's time to finish this."
