Chapter 72: Intentions

It was several hours later. Imoen lay curled up in a corner, sleeping fitfully, occasionally mumbling things under her breath. Haer'Dalis was perched beside her, resting his chin in his hand, his gaze not moving from the mage's sleeping form. Behind him, Minsc slumbered peacefully, Boo nestled next to him, occasionally emitting the odd, sleepy squeak.

The bard ignored him. Neither ranger nor hamster concerned the tiefling – all that worried him was, right now, sleeping in front of him. His fascination for the pink-haired mage had suddenly increased in its intensity.

It was clear what she was, and what had happened to her. Harrian hadn't guessed, and Minsc obviously didn't have a clue, but the tiefling could see what others could not. He had conceived, even in Imoen's brightest moments, just what darkness was nestled within her. Now it was so blazingly fierce that Haer'Dalis almost winced at the raw potency of it.

She was a child of Bhaal, like Harrian. Unlike her… brother, however, she had been so light of nature, so cheerful and good that the 'bad blood' had been quite unable to gain a hold on her, not like it had Corias. Oh, the thief was certain he was not under the sway of Murder, but it held him, to some degree at least.

Like Corias, like Sarevok, Imoen was born of death, and whilst she had been able to deny and hide it before, there was no such escape now. Not without her soul, the very essence of her being. Haer'Dalis didn't know why Irenicus had taken it or how, but he was sure the struggle of light and darkness within Imoen would be so much greater.

He adored the poetry of it, truly. One so light, so good, with evil and murder within her, trying to overrun and consume her. No bard could fail to be fascinated by this, even without living by the Doomguard philosophy.

She stirred, and by the shifting of her shoulders and the soft moan she emitted, Haer'Dalis was quite sure Imoen had been awake some time, thinking; knowing he was watching and not wanting to confront him. She had to believe that he would condemn her for what she was, as so many others would.

"Awaken, my wildflower," the tiefling murmured, leaning over towards her and whispering in his ear. "This sparrow shall not harm or judge you. Can you have a little faith, and arise, dearest Imoen?"

The pink-haired mage rolled over slowly, her face a guarded mask as she regarded him finally. "You know who I am. What I am," she said at last, levelly. "Why aren't you going to condemn me for it?"

"Did I condemn the raven?" Haer'Dalis asked, his voice light. "No; I hardly care for the seed spread by gods of you primes." He gave her what he hoped was a cheerful and encouraging smile, but probably came out as more patronising.

"Of course you don't; you're a Doomguard," Imoen sighed, sitting up slowly. Her eyes were red – she had clearly been crying silent tears whilst he had thought her sleeping. A pang hit his heart, and he briefly marvelled at the odd experience. "I'm… glad. I know the others don't worry about Harrian, but… they're used to it, they always knew what he was. I'm… I'm not…"

"Evil?" Haer'Dalis asked mildly. "Of course you think not, my wildflower. Very few people acknowledge that they are, themselves, evil." She looked sharply at him, sliding away as quickly and smoothly as possible before he lay a hand on her arm and continued casually. "But, ultimately, what is good and evil? All things end, my wildflower. Those near to you will accept you, and history… history will see you through the eyes of whoever writes it." He shrugged, smiling a little. "This sparrow would be honoured to see the task done."

Imoen smiled despite herself, and moved closer to him, her current intense vulnerability more than obvious. "Haer'Dalis… I'm glad you're here. The others… might not understand. Harrian would get overly protective, Minsc just… wouldn't help. Jaheira, Anomen…" She sighed deeply. "I don't know how they'd react. I don't want to know." She looked up at him as he slid a protective arm over her shoulder. "Please don't tell them?"

"Harrian will need to know, my wildflower," Haer'Dalis reminded her regretfully. "But other than that… your secret is safe with me. I promise," he finished to seal the deal, pulling her closer, offering a comfort he didn't know he had to give away.

* *

Harrian tapped the side of the glass cage he was stuck in experimentally. It plonked like glass usually does, but there was a slight ring which suggested magical reinforcement. Though smashing the contained didn't currently seem to be a valid escape route, it was still nice to have the option.

Irenicus stood in the room also, fiddling with some controls along the wall. They were in another of Bodhi's crypts, which had clearly been converted for the mage's use. Machines of many mysterious kinds littered the room, and Harrian wasn't too sure he wanted to know what they did. He had a horrible feeling he was about to find out.

In a long row on the far wall stood about five glass cages almost identical to the one he was in, each containing a rather pitiful-looking human. From the clothing they wore and the surly expressions on their faces, they were quite easily identifiable to Harrian's trained eye as Shadow Thieves. He felt a brief surge of smugness.

"What did you do to Imoen?" he demanded of the mage at last, sounding more courageous than he felt. Though he was not lacking in bravery, he was not necessarily comfortable with directly facing a dangerous enemy whilst completely undefended. He took a few deep, slow breaths to stop his racing heart and stop panic from bubbling over.

"The same as what I shall do to you," Irenicus replied curtly, not looking up as he pulled a lever down. Energy crackled around the wires and pipes running in between the assorted cages, and one of the Shadow Thieves leapt to his feet in a panic.

"No! Don't do this!" he shrieked, his voice full of absolute terror and fear. "I don't wanna die!" He started to pound on the glass cage with increasing desperation and force, none of his attempts even vaguely successful.

Irenicus ignored him, finally straightening up and looking at Harrian. "She will survive the process, as will you," he assured Corias. "However, do not think you will live long once I am done with you. You shall serve your purpose, then be disposed of."

"What is my purpose?" Harrian asked nervously, glancing around him. "And why do you need all of these scum?" he continued, nodding at the shifty and anxious Shadow Thieves in the other cages.

"They are just the means to an end." Irenicus shrugged. "You… I need something from you. You have failed to realise just what you are, what you could achieve with the power that lies deeply within you. It seems almost wasted on one like yourself. You will never meet your true potential, which is such a shame."

"You're talking about my Bhaal blood," Harrian said cautiously, planning to keep Irenicus talking, delay him from doing whatever he was doing so that, maybe, the cavalry could sweep in and save him. Whoever the cavalry were.

The mage nodded. "The power of a god flows in your veins. You cannot even begin to understand just what that means, just what you could do with that power." He sighed at Corias's guarded expression. "Nothing like how your brother Sarevok embraced his blood. That reduced him to little more than Bhaal's pawn. No, there are ways to make your power work for you, without being bent under the will of a dead god." He shrugged, the gesture oddly devoid of emotion. "Just you are simply not capable of tapping into that power."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing, or what you did to Imoen," Harrian replied shortly, frowning as deeply as possible. He doubted Irenicus would offer the villain's exposition speech, but with a little luck he might do Corias the courtesy of telling him just how he was about to be brutalised.

"I'm sorry, but I need your soul," Irenicus said, sounding neither sorry nor sarcastic. "The power within your soul shall support my empty vessel of a body as I depart on my plan – which you need to know nothing about." He turned back to the set of controls and pressed a button. Lights crackled from the ceiling.

"My soul?" Harrian almost shrieked in disbelief. "Why my soul? What are you going to do with a soul? Stick it in the garden to let it grow? What's wrong with your…" His voice trailed off as realisation set in, and his eyes grew wide. There was a long silence.

"What about Imoen? What did you do to her?" he asked at last, confusion still reigning overall. "If you have my soul, what could you possibly want with her? You wouldn't need her soul, and, besides, she's no Bhaalspawn." He shook his head, chuckling incredulously and nervously.

Irenicus gave him a long look, the glint in his ice-blue eyes suggesting he was raising an eyebrow behind the leather mask he wore. "What makes you believe that? Can you honestly tell me you know everything of her past and her heritage?"

Corias's eyes widened even further. "But… Imoen isn't…" His voice trailed off once again, realisation slowly pulsing its way to his brain. There was a long moment as he took a deep breath.

"Indeed," Irenicus replied mildly. "Consider all that has happened, consider everything you have both been through. Granted, much of the focus in your past adventures has been on yourself, and she has been nothing more than a simple companion in the grand scheme of things. You never allowed yourself to believe that she might be as grand, as powerful as you…"

"She's no Bhaalspawn!" Harrian repeated forcefully, his voice full more of denial than disbelief. "She's… she can't be. She can't have to suffer that… I know what it's like, she… she wouldn't be able to cope."

Irenicus looked at him with disbelief. "You do not give her enough credit. Indeed, the power is there, and she has coped with it better than you – she has even been strong enough to keep it hidden. She feels the pull, as you do; the voices telling her to kill, to wallow in the blood of her enemies. She simply has the ability to push them aside which you are missing."

He waved a hand irritably at the controls. "Enough! We are wasting time, which we do not have much of," he barked, shaking his head. "And before you ask, yes, the process should be immensely painful." He pulled a final lever on the control panel.

The last thing Harrian saw before agonising blackness overtook him was the row of Shadow Thieves scream and keel over, the life almost visibly pouring out of them even as he sank to the floor, pain filling his entire body…