Writer's Note: Once again I vanished, and it is no coincidence that this coincides with another school lockdown. My tiny Zhentaspawn, lovely though they are, are not conducive to reading, writing or any sort of quiet activity.
As they arrived at the grand stone entrance to the monastery, the monks guarding it vanished, reappearing a moment later with the monk who had issued Sarevok's invitation. Rasaad looked from him to Viconia with a perturbed scowl. If the shaven headed men and women were surprised that the Bhaalspawn had accepted Balthazaar's request for a meeting they did not show it.
"Welcome, Sarevok Anchev," the monk said graciously, nodding to Rasaad in recognition of a fellow devout. "Please, step this way."
"Step this way? I was not born yesterday!" Sarevok thundered. "Do not take me for a fool!"
"Believe me, I do not. You alone had the sense to accept my master's summons, at least amongst the more powerful of the Bhaalspawn. I must conclude then that you already possess some notion as to the nature of his offer and have wisely chosen to follow him down the path of severance."
Not minded to confess that he had turned up with no notion of what 'severance' meant, Sarevok nodded curtly. The fact that he was forced into coming by poor planning of provisions and an accident of navigation stung his pride too sharply for him to just admit to it.
"I am the only one, you say? I find that hard to believe," he replied, drawing from his experience negotiating the slippery power corridors of Baldur's Gate to tease out a clue.
"The only one amongst the most powerful," the monk corrected. "A number of minor Bhaalspawn volunteered. More would have done, I suspect, had those poor souls trapped in Saradush been made the offer."
He turned and stepped calmly over the threshold, beckoning them to follow him. Coran's bag snarled. Sarevok turned to the others and grimaced, before following the monk. It wasn't as though they had any real choice, it was that or die from dehydration.
Beyond the gate was a large courtyard filled not only with monks but with mercenaries. Most of the latter were manning the walls with crossbows, ballistae and cannon all aimed at the clouds. The carcasses of their horses chosen for slaughter were being stripped of meat for the kitchens, in unfortunate line of sight of their own animals which had been in a shaded pen.
Sat on the step was a young monk feeding small pieces of fruit to an eager gathering of fluffy grey spheres. She looked up as they passed, smiling pleasantly. Coran grinned at a large, portly specimen which was nibbling at a chunk of melon.
"Are those what I think they are?" the elf snickered. The satchel growled even louder.
"Not anymore," their guide replied with a distinct note of pride in his voice. "They were the first to be severed. My master had to be sure that it would work before attempting it on fully sentient Bhaalspawn. Unfortunately, we lost a few while we were fine-tuning the process, but we now have a reliable ritual."
The chinchillas scurried unconcernedly about the monk's feet, scrabbling for the wet, sweet slices of fruit. It seemed heartless to feed these rodents while people starved outside. Yet unless he was much mistaken these were no ordinary animals but descendants of Bhaal.
Sarevok narrowed his golden eyes at them, looking for any hint of anything out of the ordinary. He held out his fist and one sniffed his fingers, but lost interest immediately when it gleaned he had no food. There was nothing remotely unusual about the creatures.
'Which is what's unusual about them," he realised. 'They really are just chinchillas!'
"No trace of our father's essence remains about them at all?" he guessed.
"The taint has been utterly purged!" the monk replied proudly.
"And… your master could do as much for me?" Sarevok said slowly, as the party absorbed what he was being offered.
"A chance at a true mortal life," Jaheira spat bitterly. Arowan would have given anything for such a gift. "I cannot conceive of any of Bhaal's children who deserve it less, except perhaps Yaga-Shura."
"You will not need to merge with Bhaal after all, your life will be your own!" Rasaad smiled. "I am happy for you my friend."
Viconia had a rather different take on the situation.
"You would willingly give up your god essence?" she cried in disgust. "Feeble, weak-minded male, I had too high an opinion of you!"
Sarevok said nothing. They both had a point, for he had been considering for some days now that should he outlive the others he might ascend in his own right. Automatically his eyes lighted upon Coran's satchel.
Softly and sadly, the satchel whined.
Sarevok was admitted into Balthazaar's presence alone to talk through the details of the ritual. Left to their own devices the four remaining party members sat down in the shade of one of the monasteries' high walls.
Bhaal slunk out of Coran's satchel, looking dejected.
"Is it a good idea for you to be in full view of the monks?" Viconia asked sharply. As a drow, she wasn't even sure whether it was sensible to be in their line of sight herself.
THE WORST THEY COULD DO TO MY AVATAR IS SEND ME BACK TO THE ABYSS.
Almost on cue, the monk who had led them in ambled over to check on their 'dog.' Perhaps he was hoping that it too might be edible. If so he was sorely disappointed to find it pre-skinned but ungutted. A revolted expression flashed across his face and he hurried indoors, no doubt to inform his master. Bhaal watched him go without concern.
"Can this Balthazaar really do it?" probed Rasaad, with a nervous glance at the door behind which the Bhaalspawn were talking. "Could he separate Sarevok's spark of divine essence from the rest of him?"
OH YES. HE CAN DO IT.
Bhaal pawed the ground glumly. One of the chinchillas skittered across the courtyard to see if the newcomers were good for a slice of melon or two. When it saw Bhaal, it seemed to think the better of it and made itself scarce. Coran grinned at it.
"Ah, quit moping. There were hundreds of Bhaalspawn. You won't miss the power of just one," he said bracingly. "Let Sarevok go."
THAT'S NOT THE PROBLEM. BALTHAZAAR MEANS TO PREVENT ME FROM RETURNING AT ALL.
"Can he do that?" asked Jaheira without concern. Bhaal curled into Coran's lap sulkily.
POTENTIALLY.
"How?"
VERY SIMILAR TO THE WAY AROWAN PLANS TO DO IT. IF HE IS THE LAST BHAALSPAWN HE WILL ATTEMPT TO DETONATE MY ESSENSE BUT WHILE SHE HAS A TARGET OF SENTIENT EVIL, HE INTENDS TO KEEP THE DAMAGE TO A MINIMUM. THAT'S WHY HE RELOCATED TO THE MIDDLE OF A DESERT. IT IS WHY HE DOESN'T CARE WHETHER THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE HERE STARVE. POOR SODS WILL ALL GET CAUGHT UP IN THE BLAST AND DIE ANYWAY.
"I thought you just said he didn't want to harm people?" Coran baulked.
HE DOESN'T, BUT YOU CAN'T DESTROY DIVINE ESSENCE WITH NO DAMAGE AT ALL.
"How do you know this?" demanded Anomen. "And when are these thieving cannon-ball-heads going to return my armour?"
BALTHAZAAR MADE ME THE SAME OFFER WHEN I WAS SENDAI, YAGA-SHURA AND SOME OF THE OTHERS. THEY REFUSED IT. PITY YAGA-SHURA DIDN'T TAKE IT ACTUALLY, BUT SAREVOK…
Bhaal broke off abruptly. Sarevok and Balthazaar were striding through the door and approaching them.
"How do I know," growled Sarevok, "That you don't mean to take all of Bhaal's essence for yourself and ascend in your own right?"
Bhaal padded out over the dusty courtyard to face his sons. From Balthazaar's lack of surprise or reaction, the party guessed that he had deduced what the skinless dog was. After all, the horrible apparition was not something one saw every day. Unless you worked in an abattoir. Certainly not still walking around.
"You don't know that I would not try to ascend. You would have to take my word for it," Balthazaar replied smoothly. "But if that were my aim, why develop a ritual at all? My followers could just as easily slay you where you stand and it would come to the same thing."
HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN THAT ASCENDING WAS AN OPTION?
"Which one of us are you asking?" Sarevok asked dryly.
"I have known for about thirty seconds," Balthazaar replied with the ghost of a smile. Sarevok's golden eyes widened briefly, horrified at his own amateurish mistake. He had informed Balthazaar of the possibility himself. The monk raised an eyebrow. "But I truly have no desire to claim the mantle of Lord of Murder. Once I am certain that I am the last and all others have been severed or killed, I will commit a ritual suicide and put an end to Bhaal's evil once and for all."
Bhaal growled at him, arching his back, though this did not make the little dog appear any larger since he had no hair to raise.
HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN SAREVOK?
"Since Alorgoth's defeat. The paladin Wessalen let it slip. He was speaking of Arowan gaining your essence but I knew that it could just as easily apply to me."
I SEE.
Curiously, Balthazaar reached down to lift the tiny god. Bhaal snapped at his hand but the monk was too quick for him and snatched him up by the muscles on his neck. Raising him to eye-level, the monk peered into his flayed face. Bhaal curled like an exposed foetus.
"I have spent many hours of my meditations considering what I would say to you, father. What questions I would ask. Never did I imagine that I would really get the chance," Balthazaar told him in a distant voice.
REALLY? I SPENT MANY HOURS OF MY MEDITATION TIME THINKING ABOUT TITS AND BUTTOCKS BUT EACH TO THEIR OWN I SUPPOSE.
Rasaad's face twisted. He had spent many evenings on the long march to Dragonspear meditating with his fellow Selunite, Freya, in an effort to help her control her lycanthropy. Learning that the whole time she had been fantasising about female anatomy made him view their spiritual bonding in a rather different light, although with hindsight perhaps he ought not to be surprised.
DON'T DO IT, SAREVOK.
"Ascendancy or the ritual?" he retorted acidly.
THE RITUAL. ASCENDANCY STOPPED BEING AN OPTION FOR YOU THE MOMENT YOU CROSSED BALTHAZAAR'S THRESHOLD.
One glance at the serene but ruthless monk showed Sarevok the truth in this statement. His party were outnumbered hundreds to one. Either he could give up his essence willingly or Balthazaar could butcher him. Those were the options.
Sarevok sighed deeply and shook his head. At least if he got rid of the god essence his blasted glowing eyes would go with it. Then what? His mortal future stretched ahead of him, a vast maze of possibilities.
"All you need sacrifice is a few drops of your blood," Balthazaar said, nodding to their escort monk who hurried forward clutching a vial. "Three days hence you could be riding away from here, free of all of…" he waved Bhaal's ragged form distastefully. "This."
SAREVOK…
"Shut up."
Sarevok rolled up his sleeve and held his hand out to the monk who pierced his fingertip carefully and collected a few drops of blood into the vial.
"Now what?"
"You need do nothing else for the time being. We will come for you on the third day," Balthazaar informed him. "Please make yourself at home in the monastery. Onoros, see that our guests have comfortable quarters and food."
"My armour?" Anomen pressed pointedly.
"Will be returned to you when you leave," Onoros replied coolly.
"Return it to them now," said Balthazaar sharply. "Otherwise they may be tempted to do something foolish to get it back. You would lose, of course, but doubtless many of our people would die too and we need our forces intact if we are to deal with Arowan and Abazigal. Bring them everything we confiscated, except the horses. It would be unfortunate if you were to attempt to leave before the ritual completes."
Balthazaar retreated into his private rooms, taking Sarevok's blood with him and Bhaal still dangling from his hand.
"I cannot believe it!" Viconia whispered. "That fool Balthazaar is actually arming us! Monks really make the stupidest males."
"Where is he taking Bhaal?" asked Coran nervously.
"To prod him and ask him questions I expect," Jaheira snorted indifferently. "Sorry Sarevok, but the rest of us need to get going. Three days is giving Arowan far too much of a head start."
"Does that matter? She cannot commence the ritual while three of her siblings live," Rasaad pointed out mildly.
"But she can cement her alliance with Bodhi, plan for our arrival and cause gods-know what chaos in Baldur's Gate!" Jaheira replied edgily. "The more time she has the better prepared she will be!"
"I fancy our chances better if we have Sarevok with us," Coran voted, though that was only part of his reasoning. The elf was not anxious to face Arowan again, especially not in his adopted home.
In the end, the Harper found herself outvoted. Coran, Rasaad and Viconia all wanted to wait for Sarevok to join them and while Anomen voted with her it was clear that he did not feel as strongly about it as she did. This meant edgy days of waiting and sweating in the sweltering heat when all she really wanted was to get what had to be done over with.
Bhaal was not returned to them that day, but by the next morning Coran was sure that the summoning must have worn off. In the privacy of his own room which was clean but hot and spartan, he slipped out the Girdle of Femininity and quietly used it to call back Bhaal.
"What did Balthazaar want with you?" he whispered, bandaging his sliced forearm with practised hands as his friend materialised.
TO DISCUSS PHILOSOPHY AND THE AFTERLIFE.
"I bet he found that a satisfying conversation," Coran grinned, knowing how little intellectual clout the Lord of Murder actually possessed.
NOT AS SATISFYING AS I FOUND PISSING IN HIS SANDALS. LISTEN, CORAN, I… I NEED TO TALK TO SAREVOK.
Coran bit his lip and looked at his friend with doubtful green eyes.
"It won't do any good. He has to go through with this. If he doesn't, Balthazaar will kill him. Why do you care? If the last surviving Bhaalspawn gets all the essence them presumably when they die you will too- severed or unsevered."
I CARE. JUST BRING SAREVOK. PLEASE.
Coran found Sarevok in the courtyard under the shade of a large olive tree. There must be some underground water reserve nearby for it to survive because the air was as parched as tomb dust and there wasn't a cloud in the sky as far as the eye could see.
One of the monks was massaging his shoulders while another alternated between fanning him and chopping up pieces of fruit for him to eat.
"Rasaad wants to talk to you," Coran lied. He suspected that advertising that Bhaal was back would earn the god another one-way walkies to Balthazaar's study.
"Tell him to come out here," Sarevok groaned, stretching out.
Somewhere along the line he had lost his shirt and the monk was rubbing oil into his exposed muscles more sensually than a standard sports massage would require.
"It's urgent," Coran pressed.
Sarevok blinked resentfully and sat up, scowling.
"If it's that urgent then why is he sparring with Onoros?" he grumbled.
Glancing in the direction that Sarevok was staring, Coran saw that he was right. Rasaad had also lost his shirt and was exchanging friendly blows with his fellow monk. Viconia was watching them out of the corner of her eye, while Anomen lurked in the deepest shade, hair plastered to his face with sweat and hugging his shadow dragon armour protectively.
"Fine. I need to talk with you."
"Do you now?" replied Sarevok, showing not the least inclination to move.
"Yes. It's about my girdle," Coran told him pointedly.
"Elves wear girdles?" one of the monks wrinkled her nose and turned to her bald companion who was holding the fan. "Apologies, Balthazaar was under the impression that your tastes ran in the direction of… that is… if men in girdles are of interest to you, I am sure he could arrange to have one sent up?"
"Unnecessary!" replied Sarevok, rising hastily to his feet.
"Are you sure? Master Balthazaar wants your stay to be as comfortable as possible for you… and your… friend."
An unusual step for a monk, but then so was sacrificing the population of a small town. In his own way, Balthazaar was as fixated on ridding the world of Bhaal as Arowan was and would do so at any price. Only she had the excuse of numbing potions. He was a pure-bred fanatic.
"We are not-" Sarevok began. But Coran cut him off, smiling at the monks in a friendly way.
"It is wonderful to know that Balthazaar is so concerned with our comfort, but why would we need another man to join us when we have each other?" Coran beamed, taking Sarevok by the arm. "We'll be back shortly ladies, once Sarevok is done seeing to my girdle."
He winked at them. Looking slightly disappointed, the women took their fan, fruit and massage oil and went away. Sarevok followed the elf inside looking murderous.
"That ought to make sure we're not disturbed," Coran said apologetically.
"Good!" growled Sarevok. "I wouldn't want anybody interrupting us while I mince you into elf-tartare!"
"Balthazaar really wants you to go through with this ritual doesn't he?"
"What do you want, thief?"
"Bhaal needs to talk to you."
For a moment Sarevok glared at Coran like he was considering ripping the other man's teeth from his mouth, but to the elf's relief he stormed into his room. He wasn't sure whether he was invited to follow, but curiosity got the better of him and he quietly tailed the Bhaalspawn and closed the door behind them.
Bhaal was sat on a cabinet by the bed waiting for them. His tiny claws were digging into the wood with anxiety and his exposed arteries pulsated with each horribly visible thump of his heart. Sarevok sat on the bed, watching the avatar through golden eyes.
DON'T DO IT SAREVOK. DON'T TAKE BALTHAZAAR'S OFFER. YOU BELONG IN ME.
Coran's sharp green eyes caught a sudden shadow fall over the keyhole to their room. An ear was being pressed to it. He coughed pointedly and jerked his head at it before saying loudly, in as good an imitation of Bhaal's voice as a mortal could manage:
"Please don't do it Sarevok. Don't fall for Balthazaar's offerings. I know the monks are fit and everything, but you belong in me and no other. Take me now!" It was, he felt, a good bit of improvised cover. Sarevok disagreed. The Bhaalspawn leapt to his feet, seizing Coran by his throat and lifting him off the ground in fury. "Oh yeah! Like that!" the elf wheezed for the benefit of the eavesdropping monks.
"Shut up right now if you don't want to be beaten to within an inch of your life!" Sarevok threatened.
"Oh yes! Pound me to within an inch of my life!" Coran moaned in a voice that even the courtesans of Athkatla would likely have considered over the top. Sarevok flushed scarlet. Coran pointed silently and urgently at the keyhole again and Sarevok looked at it just in time to see the reddening monk's ear being withdrawn.
After a few minutes of silence, Coran opened the door a fraction to check that Balthazaar's spies were definitely gone. Sarevok edged into the corner of the room, as far from the elf as possible.
"Why should you care if I accept Balthazaar's offer, father? It won't diminish your power if I die a mortal. You'll have my god essence either way!"
BUT I WON'T HAVE YOU!
Sarevok folded his arms and scowled at the deity.
"I'd have thought you would consider that a good thing."
I THOUGHT SO TOO. TURNS OUT WE BOTH THOUGHT WRONG. I… I NEED YOU.
"Why the change of heart Freya? Father? Whoever the hell you are!"
Bhaal locked eyes with Sarevok. His eyes were grey, bulging and lidless but they were still his eyes, identical in colour to those of Freya and the original Bhaal. It had been the only physical feature that the two had in common but it was a striking one.
I SAW THE FALL OF SARADUSH THROUGH MANY DIFFERENT EYES. SOME OF US GLORIED IN THE VIOLENCE LIKE GROMNIR AND YAGA-SHURA, BUT MOST OF THE BHAALSPAWN WERE JUST SCARED. THEY LOOKED TO YOU AND YOU WERE THERE. THE HERO OF SARADUSH WAS THEIR HERO. MY HERO.
Sarevok's face contorted, and he looked away. In a moment so brief that if Coran had blinked he would have missed it, the man looked on the verge of tears.
"Some hero!" Sarevok spat bitterly. "Saradush fell anyway!"
BUT THOSE PEOPLE BELIEVED THEMSELVES ASSURED OF VICTORY. RIGHT UP UNTIL THE VERY LAST MOMENTS OF THEIR LIVES THEY WERE SURE THAT YOU WOULD SAVE THEM. YOUR PRESENCE SPARED THOSE PEOPLE MUCH UNECCESSARY FEAR AND SUFFERING BEFORE THEIR DEATHS.
"They still died."
WE DID, BUT WE DIED KNOWING THAT YOU TRIED.
Somehow the words did something that Freya's teeth had never succeeded in doing in the Abyss. Sarevok's hand grasped the bedpost to steady himself and he pressed his forehead into it, gritting his teeth. Pain coiled inside him. The loss of Saradush, the loss of Tamoko… all of it was his own fault but he could not bring himself to let the tears fall.
Back in Baldur's Gate, Freya had slumped into wolf form rather than allow anybody to see her crying, even Coran. Sarevok was no more convincing than she had been. His broad shoulders shook silently, his jaw clenched and his face shining. The absence of actual tears meant nothing at all.
YOU'RE ME, SAREVOK. I'M YOU. THE HERO OF SARADUSH AND THE HERO OF BALDUR'S GATE… WE'RE THE SAME PERSON. WE ALWAYS WERE.
Sarevok couldn't bring himself to speak, or even to look at Bhaal. He shook his head violently, trying to block everything out. Bhaal sighed.
I CANNOT FORCE YOU TO ASCEND WITH ME, BUT IF YOU DON'T BHAAL WILL BE DIMINISHED FOR ALL ETERNITY. YOU ARE PART OF ME. PART OF ME THAT I WANT.
Despite his best efforts a few droplets escaped from Sarevok's glowing eyes. There were many conflicting legends about the tears of Bhaal, but the power of these particular tears seemed to be to incense his son. He snatched up his father's avatar, which put up no resistance as he smashed its head against the bedpost repeatedly, until he sent him back to the Abyss. It was as if Bhaal had been expecting that reaction.
Coran froze. His instinct was to comfort Sarevok who was, after all, a piece of his dearest friend. At the same time, he was acutely aware that if the Bhaalspawn decided to take out his anger and grief on his own skull it'd take more than a few drops of blood on a girdle and a whisper of his name to bring him back from the afterlife. Being murdered must be nothing to Bhaal by this point, having died so many violent deaths, but to the elf dying remained a big deal.
Seconds ticked on into minutes as the elf floundered in his pool of indecision. Sarevok slumped onto the bed, his head still buried in his hand against the bedpost. Very hesitantly, Coran sat down next to him and extended a cautious hand to pat his shoulder as one might move to pet a very angry Pitbull. To his relief, the other man did not respond by attacking him. Instead he took a long, shuddering breath and slammed his other fist against the bedpost.
Just a few moments ago the immediate future had seemed so simple. All Sarevok had to choose once he was free of the Bhaal taint was what he was going to do with his life. Despite nearly infinite options it felt like such an uncomplicated choice when compared to the one he was facing now. Who was he going to be? Mortal Sarevok, or the god Bhaal?
"What would you do?" he groaned.