Part 11
One smooth movement and the dagger slid into her hand. Her sleeping sister had not even stirred when Imoen used her thieving skills to take the blade. Solemnly, Imoen admired the slim dagger in the strange greenish light of the pocket plane. The elven smiths had made the deadly instrument a work of art. Abstract swirls etched along the blade made it seem too dainty for use. It was made for a smaller hand than hers but it would do. The light elven blade seemed eager in her hand, as if it approved of her decision.
Imoen let the flat of the blade touch her cheek. It was smooth and cool, like the half-remembered touch of her mother's hand. Things hadn't been right since Avress had called her to the pocket plane. Avress had greeted her warmly and for a moment, Imoen had thought things would be like they were before. Avress would understand the terrible things she saw in her dreams. It was funny how that sometimes He was counting her ribs again. Or that sometimes the memory got all messed up and she counted His instead. For a moment Imoen paused to wonder which was worse. She couldn't tell. Then she saw Sarevok, Imoen remembered, taking up her train of thought once again. Enemies weren't supposed to come back from the dead. They weren't supposed to take away your sister. Her lower lip trembled and Imoen clutched at the dagger. Since Sarevok came, Avress hadn't had time for the talks they usually had or the jokes they shared. No, she was always with him. She didn't even see what he was doing to her.
When Avress had used the taint and then changed into the Slayer, Imoen knew she had to do something. Then Jaheira had spoken up and Imoen had thought Avress would finally see sense. Instead she had ignored everything. Then Jaheira had betrayed Avress. If she'd really cared, she would have made Avress send Sarevok away. Why was she the only one who could see it? The taint was eating her sister and Sarevok was goading it along. If he was gone, things would be fine again.
The wraith had seen the truth. Her heart felt like it had been torn apart with shame. Imoen smothered a whimper with her hand. She couldn't pretend anymore. Avress was slipping away going further and further away. Soon she'd be all alone with the dreams. Violently she shook her head.
She knew where to put a blade. She had seen Him do it often enough. Imoen had never really understood His fascination with knives of all kinds. Now she knew that sometimes they were your only friends. She, along with her new friend and her little surprise, were going to fix everything. Padding toward Sarevok, Imoen imagined how happy Avress would be once she was freed. This time she would be the hero.
The anticipation of triumph filled her in heady waves as she lifted the dagger to strike. Avress would be her sister again. In a smooth arch, the blade descended and slid into flesh. Elation flared and then was quenched. That wasn't where she'd aimed. A dull pain suddenly registered and Imoen looked down. A heavy blade protruded from her stomach. Dumbstruck, she tried to understand as the darkness took her.