Chapter 73: Heritage

Bright light finally filled Harrian's vision, bringing him back to the world of the living as he regained consciousness brutally and painfully. His throat seemed clogged, and as his eyes slowly fluttered open, he suddenly became aware he couldn't breathe.

He coughed profoundly, dislodging whatever was in his throat, but once he started he couldn't stop. His body shuddered and wracked itself with coughs, and he eventually managed to roll over onto his front, clamber to his hands and knees, and vomit profusely.

Unusually, this didn't make him feel any better. He had the same sort of feeling which usually only emerged after a night of vast amounts of ale, but the ache wasn't in his head… it was inside, deep inside, and far more brutal and desolating than any hangover. And he'd had some rather brutal hangovers.

Slowly, he flopped over to his back, closing his eyes, willing the world to go away and let him suffer in peace. A low, pained moan escaped his lips, but it was cut short as, suddenly, he felt a cool wet cloth placed on his forehead.

His eyes shot open to see Imoen crouched over his resting form, concern etched all over her face. He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but was cut short as strong hands pulled him to a slightly more upright position and the pink-haired mage raised a bowl of water to his dry and cracked lips.

Harrian drunk greedily, ignoring the drenched scrap of Imoen's robe as it fell from his forehead to the floor. He drained the bowl dry, then looked around wearily. "Any more?" the thief asked, slowly aware that the water had not satiated this aching thirst and hunger that had suddenly manifested itself within him.

Imoen smiled thinly. A day before, she would have probably laughed and smiled a smile which would have cheered him up. "'Fraid not," she replied regretfully, shaking her head. "That's all of your share."

Minsc, who was supporting Harrian, looked indignant. "No! It shall not be so!" he declared emphatically. "Harrian will have my drink. He is not looking too well, and I can be just as dangerous a warrior without water. The hero needs his liquid."

Corias shook his head, slowly trying to stand up, but his limbs wouldn't obey his brain. "No, Minsc, no… I'm fine. Drink your share. I don't think water will make me feel any better." The ranger looked doubtfully at him. "Honest. I'll be fine."

The warrior of Rasheman nodded slowly and deliberately, clearly not fooled, before heading towards the other side of the cell Harrian had been returned to. Against a fourth wall sat Haer'Dalis, cloak wrapped around him, eyeing both Corias and Imoen appraisingly. The thief met the tiefling's gaze, then shuddered and looked away.

Imoen wiped at Harrian's brow with the discarded cloth. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly, easing down beside him as he rested against the wall. "We heard you screaming from all the way in here."

"Immy…" Harrian shook his head as he grasped her hand. "Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't need to explain what he was talking about.

The mage looked indignant, but kept her voice low. "Tell you?" she repeated incredulously. "I didn't know until Irenicus…" Her voice trailed off, and she stared at the floor unhappily.

He squeezed her hand apologetically. "Sorry," Harrian mumbled, looking away. "I'm sorry. It's just…" Finally, he raised her head to meet his gaze. "We can handle this, you know. I know this must be overwhelming, learning that we're… the same, and then Irenicus doing what he's done, but…"

Imoen moved closer to him, relieved at the comfort he could offer born of a bond Haer'Dalis could never aspire to – and not a bond of blood, either. "We'll get our souls back," she whispered, nodding firmly. "He's not going to get away with this."

Harrian paused, thinking for a long moment. "Im?" he asked at last thoughtfully. "Did you have any… dreams, hallucinations, after blacking out when he… started the procedure?" he asked, as the unusual ache of his limbs he didn't think was born of being minus a soul re-established itself.

She shook her head. "No… no, nothing. There was just darkness, then I woke up here." Imoen looked up at him. "You don't seem to be as crazy as I was, though," she pointed out. "I wonder what they want with our souls…"

Corias shrugged. "Irenicus is quite clearly insane. I'm sure he's perfectly sure about whatever reason his twisted mind has conjured up," the thief spat venomously. "I doubt we'll be able to work it out."

"Well, we'll have to if we're going to get our souls back, won't we," Imoen reminded him gently. There was yet another long pause as she took a deep breath. "Harrian, when we get out of this –" Corias noted it was 'when', not 'if' – "please don't tell the others what I am. I know they've accepted you, but… I don't want them to know until I'm ready."

Harrian looked at her slowly, a smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth. "I understand," he replied softly. "I'd have preferred to have had some time to come to terms with it myself before it was blabbed to the world. I mean, Jaheira and Khalid already knew, but Dynaheir, Minsc…"

Imoen nodded, grimacing. "Odd, how Jaheira knew about you but not about me." There was yet another long pause. "If she knew and didn't tell me, I'm going to kill her."

Despite their situation, despite their not knowing where Jaheira was or even if she was still alive, something struck Harrian as inherently funny about that comment, and he barked out a quick laugh, then began to chuckle relentlessly. Imoen giggled a little, and the sat in the corner, laughing quietly amongst themselves under the suspicious and confused gazes of Haer'Dalis and Minsc.

Imoen sighed as they slowly sobered up, the situation being too grim and their minds too worn to laugh for long. "I doubt she knew," she murmured at last. "It seems as if Gorion was unable to keep it a secret about you, but me… the seed wasn't as obvious in me. Maybe in keeping everyone ignorant about the truth, he thought he could shield me from it." Harrian nodded thoughtfully. "Haer'Dalis already knows, by the way," Imoen finished.

Corias looked sharply at her, then gave the bard a brief, venomous sideways glare. "He knows?" the thief hissed, his eyes widening. "How? Why… why should he know and not the others?"

Imoen sighed once again. "I didn't tell him. He has fiend blood in him, Harrian, he managed to sense it… I didn't tell him." There was another pause. "Besides, if I had wanted to tell him –"

Thankfully, that particular conversation never managed to get finished, as it would never have ended particularly well for Harrian. The door to the cell swung open noisily, and the same vampire – who seemed to be on jailer duty – who had been there earlier stood stubbornly in the doorway. "Off we go," the undead man sneered as he entered the cell, three other burly vampires beside him.

* *

Irenicus rolled his eyes as Bodhi led in the four captives, the vampire practically sauntering with the glee of her new soul. "Why did you bring them here?" the mage asked wearily, sighing deeply. "I asked you to dispose of them. Preferably not in a public execution. Such things irk me."

Bodhi shook her head, waggling a finger under the mage's nose. "Patience, patience," she murmured, giggling a little. "You never could understand the fun that could be gained from playing with your food. You're so often very boring…"

Irenicus shook his head, sighing once again. "You try me, Bodhi, so very often," he groaned. "Enough! Proceed as you wish, do as you wish. I have matters to attend to. Dispose of these shells… however you want."

The four captives looked at each other, eyes wide, as Irenicus opened a Dimension Door and disappeared from the crypt. Bodhi prowled around them slowly, licking her lips and eyeing Harrian appraisingly. "Divine blood could be so very delectable," she sighed sensuously, sidling up beside the Bhaalspawn. "It would be a shame not to sample it before I have to dispose you."

They were all tightly bound, and could barely move without being dragged by the vampire guards… so Harrian could offer no resistance as Bodhi moved swiftly beside him, yanked his head down and sank her teeth into his jugular. He tried to scream, but not sound came out.

Even as he felt her drinking his blood deeply, all sound blocking out as his vision started to swim and darken, he was dimly aware of the doors to the crypt being thrown open and a trio of figures standing in the doorway.

Bodhi didn't relent, however, and Harrian could only watch as a vampire launched itself at the new arrivals. One figure, the tallest and bulkiest, raised a hand. Corias was dimly aware of words being shouted and the vampire retreating, even as the smallest figure lunged forwards, scimitar in hand.

Even as Harrian blacked out, there was no mistaking the who the cavalry were: Keldorn, Anomen, and Jaheira.