Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Bioware, Interplay, or the Baldur's Gate series other than copies of the games themselves and an overactive imagination. Thank you. :)
Journey to
the North
Chapter V
The tears streamed unheeded down Elsbeth's cheeks. Even if she had had the resolve to brush them away, her hands were fastened tightly to the stone table upon which she lay. She had long since stopped pulling against the icy steel, and now she lay with eyes closed, her cheek resting against the smooth, polished surface of the altar.
Around her, she could hear the terrified sobs of the others. They echoed in the cavernous room, growing and multiplying until they surrounded her, pressed in on her, calling her heart to despair. She resisted as long as she could, but it was growing more difficult, and she was so tired….
She craned her neck until she could see the figures pulling futilely against their chains, could hear the cold clanking of steel adding to the symphony of their terror.
Only Aaron was silent. He stood watching as the tears carved burning trails down his tanned cheeks. His broad shoulders sagged with exhaustion and helplessness. His clothes hung from his body in filthy shreds. He was beaten and bruised, barely conscious. Her heart ached for him. She could see in his eyes the pain, the fear. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she saw a glimpse of his complete and utter anguish before he let his head fall, hiding his eyes from her gaze.
She took a shuddering, painful breath, lay still on the altar, and waited.
Elsbeth did not have long to wait. She heard footsteps in the corridor and tore her eyes away, turning her head toward the great doorway at one end of the room. It had no door, but was open to the corridor, and she could see in the shadows several cloaked figures approaching. Their faces remained indistinct as they walked from the darkness of the hallway into the flickering light of the huge candles set at the four corners of the altar.
Slowly, the frightened cries of the others faded into a horrified stillness, and the cloaked figures moved into the room with a quiet shuffle of robes, moving into a large circle around the table upon which she lay.
There was silence for only a few minutes. Soon Elsbeth's ears detected another movement in the hallway, like the sound of soft boots on stone, but strange… unnatural.
A step, then a shuffle. Another step, another shuffle. It grew louder in the heavy quiet, coming nearer.
It was then that she saw him.
The figure was cloaked in much the same manner as the others, but there was a slight variation to his robes. They were the color of blood, and gold at the edges glittered in the light of the candles. On one side, the hem of the garment just touched the stone floor of the room, but on the other, it dragged over the surface with each shuffling step. She watched the figure as he moved into the dim light, unable to tear her eyes away.
He moved through a large gap in the circle of cloaked figures and approached the altar. Step, shuffle. Step, shuffle. Step….
He came nearer until he stood directly over Elsbeth's helpless form. Elsbeth could see for the first time the shapes of eyes in the shadows of his hood. They were cold, lifeless, and glittered with an cruel light that turned her blood to ice within her veins.
She swallowed the scream that leapt to her throat and willed her hands to remain still. It did little good. The fingers clenched, let go, pulled against the restraints once more until Elsbeth's arms began to tremble in a mixture of exhaustion and terror.
She was going to die.
The eyes watched her for several moments in silence. At last a voice came from within the darkness of the hood. It was barely above a whisper, but it echoed in the silence, and it seemed that even the hearts of those circled around the altar stilled a moment in a dreadful uneasiness.
"The relic."
One of the cloak figures moved forward slowly, drawing from within his robes a small crystal that glittered in the dusky light. He offered it to the red-cloaked figure with faintly trembling hands.
The hand that reached out to accept the offering was claw-like, and wrapped in strips of pale and moth-eaten cloth. The servant involuntarily shuddered at the brush of those withered fingers, but the master seemed not to notice and turned toward the altar with his prize, hungry anticipation in his dead gaze as he looked upon the slender figure before him.
"Do not fear, child."
The smile in the hoarse words chilled Elsbeth's heart even more, and she silently prayed for strength as she met his cold eyes.
"With your sacrifice, you give birth to a glorious new creature. You will be called the Mother of Darkness, and all those who raise their voices to the shadow will praise your name. Rejoice in your good fortune, my dear, and prepare yourself for the sweet oblivion that awaits you."
Elsbeth shuddered as another clawed hand emerged from the sanguine robes to touch her face, tracing the icy fingers over her skin.
"Yes, child, your soul will be perfect."
Elsbeth's skin crawled at the figure's touch and a spark of anger rose in her heart, momentarily conquering her fear. Her voice seemed unnaturally loud in the cavernous space, though it barely rose above a whisper. "May my soul poison you and carry you on vengeful wings into the depths of the Abyss."
With that, she spat at the shadow that was the creature's face, and he withdrew a step, the glittering eyes narrowing into terrifying slits. He paused for what seemed an eternity, then pulled the hood back from his face. Elsbeth's eyes widened, but no scream came to her throat, for her terror silenced her.
Melanath's face was barely recognizable as having ever been human. The skin was the color of parchment. Dry, withered, and stretched across the bones of the skull like a drum, widening the features into a grim mockery of humanity. The lips were bloodless and cruel, and thin clumps of colorless hair hung limply around his shoulders. His body moved reluctantly in a cruel parody of life, a walking corpse with eyes of darkness.
He moved a bandaged hand to wipe the moisture from a shriveled cheek, his mouth curved in a malicious snarl.
"Ariana once acted as you do, foolish child. She had tried so long to keep me away. She should have known it was impossible. I will not be denied.
"When at last I came to her, she cried to the gods to protect her, called to her husband, to the asinine idiot who had left her alone to search for me in a jealous rage. Fool." He drew his face close to hers, and she could smell for the first time the odor of decay on the breath that passed over her cheeks.
"I took her, child. On her own bed. I took her body, and I took her soul. Then I took her body again, even as she prayed to her worthless gods for protection." His laughter was a dry rustle in the darkness. "She did not realize that a god already held her in his arms."
He bent closer. "Do you know what a lich is, child? Power. Immortality. I would have it all. I would be a god among men, and still she refused me. Still she called her husband's name. It was on her lips as I finally allowed her to die."
He voice was filled with mockery. "Protection. The prayers died on her lips with Gareth's name. I kissed her then, child, and she had never tasted sweeter as I quite literally held her soul in my hand." His hand tightened around the crystal, and he straightened as well as he could. "And now you will join her."
Elsbeth closed her eyes and wept. She heard the shouting behind her, could hear Aaron's voice rising above the others, though she could not make out the words. His voice was frantic, pleading…. She let out a strangled sob, curling her hands into fists until she could feel the sharp bite of the fingernails on her palm.
Melanath glanced over his shoulder at the noise, then looked down at Elsbeth with a cruel smile. "Is it his name you will call as you die? We shall see…."
Melanath barked a command in an unfamiliar tongue, and the candle's flames leapt into the air, illuminating the room as he reached into his cloak, pulling an ornate dagger from within. It glittered wickedly, but less so than Melanath's lifeless eyes.
"Do not weep, child. He will join you soon enough."
Melanath laughed harshly, then raised his hands to the darkness.
"Let the ritual begin."
