Chapter 82: Red Rage
Harrian kissed Jaheira's neck lightly, slipping his arm around her as the two of them lay entwined in his bed, the sun visibly rising, bathing the entire room in light as dawn broke. "Morning," he murmured, smiling slightly.
She returned the grin, resting her head on his shoulder and shifting closer to him, astounded how his simple presence could make her forget almost every single demon lurking inside her head. "Good morning to you too."
There was a long pause as they just lay there, not needing to use words to show their emotions, not wanting to ruin the moment with worthless speech. There were many questions, many unknown issues, but they weren't important right then. At that moment, there was only the two of them.
"We should probably get up," Jaheira said eventually, regretfully. "The others might start to wonder. And… there is much to do." She didn't want to pull his mind back into the heavy present, but there were still many concerns tugging at them both, many matters to be dealt with. They couldn't hide from the world forever.
He sighed reluctantly. "Do we have to?" As Jaheira's answer was little more than her rolling out of his arms and getting out of bed, he sagged back. "You're a bloody slave-driver, you know that?"
She shot him an amused yet venomous look as she picked her tunic up off the floor, slipping it over her head. "Are you going to get up, or would you rather Haer'Dalis came along to wake you up, found me here, and turned this into a massive, rather mortifying scene?"
Harrian sat up reluctantly. "I hate it when you have a point," he mumbled grumpily, scratching at the stubble on his face. His beard needed something of a trim too; he wasn't quite looking his best from several days' imprisonment.
They dressed quickly, planning to get moving before, as Jaheira had predicted, someone made a scene and a fuss out of the matter. It wasn't that they didn't want the others to know of what had transpired, more than they didn't want it to be an issue.
Corias tightened his belt, attaching the Daystar firmly, then looked at Jaheira. "Alright. Do you want to go down first, or should I?" he asked lightly. They knew it would be best if they didn't appear for breakfast together; they could most certainly do without Haer'Dalis's jibes, or whatever the bard had to offer.
Even as the question escaped his lips, however, there was a knock at the door. Harrian threw Jaheira a pained glance as he adjusted his sword belt, then rolled his eyes and approached the room's entrance. "Who is it?"
There was a brief pause. "Anomen," was the brief reply, and the cleric sounded slightly odd, a little stress creeping into his voice. "Can you open the door?" There was a slight edge to his tone which set Harrian's nerves off.
He glanced again at Jaheira, then reached down for the handle and swung the door open. Anomen stood there, his hair sticking out at right angles, clearly a little pale and evidently agitated. He didn't even bat an eyelid at the sight of the druid in the room with Harrian.
"Anomen. What's up?" Corias asked casually, but there was a slightly guarded edge to his voice as he saw the state the knight was in. "You're looking a little… erm… bothered. Anything I can help you with?"
A pained expression crossed Delryn's face. "There is one… minor… thing," he mumbled, but didn't get to finish as he was propelled forwards into the room, knocking Harrian back as Quint, who had been holding a knife to Anomen's back, entered, two of his lackeys in tow – one of them gripping Imoen in an iron grasp.
"Yes, one minor thing," Quint sneered, raising his longsword and pointing it at Harrian's neck. "Just the little matter of the property his lordship Count Felden Duchinov wants back. A little scroll I believe I've already had the pleasure of removing from your personage."
Harrian blinked, too taken aback by the sudden entrance to react. The room had visibly become a little too crowded with seven people packed inside, and whilst the thugs were outnumbered four to three, they had the advantage of a pair of what could quickly become hostages.
"You mean the Nether Scroll?" he asked blankly, visibly stunned.
"Aye, that would be it," Duchinov's handyman replied cautiously, his blade not wavering as he shrugged. "If you'd be so kind as to hand it over right now, we'll leave, no questions asked." He smiled a little oddly. "Promise."
Ah, but leaving, no questions asked, leaving four bodies in your wake? Harrian thought dryly as he folded his arms across his chest. "We don't have the scroll," he retorted sharply, raising his head and attempting to look imperiously down at Quint. It was hard, for the other man stood a good two inches taller than Harrian, only beaten by Anomen in height.
The other man's expression darkened. "Now, I assure you that you don't want to go and annoy me. I happen to have the power in this situation, you know. And beyond this situation, there happens to be my boss, who could make your life in Athkatla very difficult, now he knows who he's looking for. I'll ask again – where is the scroll?"
"We gave it to the Cowled Wizards," Corias snapped quickly. "We don't have it any more. We used it for an exchange. If you really want to, I'm sure that it'll be a minor issue if you wish to go and take it off them. Full circle, after all. We stole it off them, you steal it off us, we steal it off you, the Cowled Wizards take it from us, you steal it from the Cowled Wizards. Fair's fair." Despite his calm tone, his stance and the flashing of his eyes showed just how angry the thief was getting, something Quint noticed quite easily.
"You're lying," he replied shortly. "Nobody would be stupid to give that scroll away; not for anything. I don't think you understand the power it contains." Clearly, neither he nor Duchinov had a single clue as to the true nature of the Nether Scroll. "Now give me the scroll, or I'll have to go cutting some of your friends here." He nodded at Anomen and Imoen briefly.
Harrian straightened up, his body going taut. "You dare…"
"Yes, I dare!" Quint snapped back, his blade swishing in Anomen's direction. To his credit, the cleric barely flinched – maybe because the grip from one of the other thugs was so strong he couldn't even move. "And if you do not comply, Mister Corias, I shall dare to do considerably more!"
"I don't have the scroll!" the thief shouted in reply, taking a threatening step forwards, stopping only as Quint's blade moved dangerously close to Delryn's neck. "You can turn this place upside down and inside out, but you won't find it, because I don't have it!"
Quint stared at the irate thief for a long moment, his expression completely impassive and unreadable. He lowered the sword slowly, cocking one eyebrow as he regarded Harrian slowly, contemplatively. "You're lying," he said at last, then whirled around, blade raised, Anomen his target.
Then everything seemed to slow down to a snail's pace.
Somehow pulling away from the grip of her captors, Imoen sprang forward, too far away from Quint to stop him but not too far away to protect Anomen. Moving at a speed which would have seemed unnatural if they had had time to consider the situation, she muttered an incantation under her breath, her hands weaving speedily through arcane movements.
Amazingly, she was fast enough, and as Quint's sturdy sword struck Anomen, it did little more than deflect off the shocked cleric in a flash of blue light. The Protection from Normal Weapons spell had been cast just in time.
Letting out a yell that was more of a beast's cry than a human shout, Harrian lunged at Quint, his face a mask of fury. The two men tumbled to the floor, Corias miraculously landing on top, allowing him to spring back to his feet and reach for his sword.
He never quit got there as the anger within him grew. His skin started to redden, his features twist and change even as he increased in build and stature... then he let out an ear-splitting roar, and before them no longer stood Harrian Corias, Bhaalspawn thief, but the Slayer, the greatest symbol of Bhaal himself.
Letting out a curse of fear, Quint leapt out of the way of a giant claw, knocking one of his two lackeys into the path of the rampaging Slayer. Not even glancing backwards as he sprang towards the door, elbowing Anomen, who moved to intercept him, in the stomach, he leapt out into the corridor. The other thug shoved Imoen aside, kicked Jaheira in the kneecap, then followed his boss just as the door was slammed shut.
Barely giving the others a glance as Harrian, or the Slayer, bodily ripped apart the lone member of Quint's entourage who had been left behind, Imoen yanked on the door handle. It turned, but the door refused to budge, evidently blocked from the other side. They were trapped.