A/N: WARNING: implied rape. This story is rated M for a reason; I strongly urge you to reconsider your decision to read this if you are sensitive to the topic of sexual violence—especially if you are under the age of 17.
"There will be time to murder and create"
Chapter Five
Entreri understood with painful clarity what Mordecai had planned for him.
The horror or rage anyone would feel when facing rape would be great; to a man who had been repeatedly raped as a child, the anger provoked exceeded anything the rational mind could comprehend. The assassin's entire soul screamed in blind fury and revulsion. The holding spell shattered instantly under the surge of Entreri's rage, and before Mordecai could even blink, Entreri had kneed him in the groin, slashed him with both blades, and then kicked him square in the stomach. The drow landed several feet away with a howl of wrath, but unfortunately he seemed unhurt. Apparently, Mordecai had a protective enchantment about him.
Entreri was undeterred. He stalked toward Mordecai, both fists clenched on the hilts of his weapons, and the depth of his rage caused him to nearly tremble. He was going to kill the drow. He was going to slowly, carefully disembowel him, decapitate him, and cut him into miniscule pieces. This bastard had picked the wrong person to threaten with such violence.
A bolt of lightening hit Mordecai square in the shoulder, and the drow jumped to his feet in alarm. Again, Mordecai seemed virtually unharmed, but he stepped backwards at the sight of Jarlaxle pointing a wand at him from the doorway.
Entreri glared at the mercenary leader. "He's mine."
"Would it be such a crime to share?" Jarlaxle asked in an eerily calm tone that conveyed a threat a hundred fold more sinister than a shout ever could.
Entreri's grin was perhaps the evilest of his life. "Well . . . perhaps not."
In the following five seconds, Mordecai had to dodge a double strike from Entreri, a dozen daggers, and a second bolt of lightening. After evading the lightening, Mordecai traced a symbol into the air and spoke the words of a spell; simultaneously, he drew one of his falchions with the other hand. Within moments, a vaporous mist billowed out from the drow, obscuring both Entreri's and Jarlaxle's sight, and for the assassin, the mist proved an uncomfortable reminder of his fight with Mordecai in the bathhouse.
"Did you not know he's a magic-user?" Entreri yelled at Jarlaxle, even as he struck at Mordecai's most likely position.
Jarlaxle's only reply was to drop the room into a deep magical silence, effectively stealing two of Entreri's senses. The assassin wasn't sure whether Mordecai would try to escape in the concealing mist or would stay and attempt killing them. Betting that the drow would prefer killing them, Entreri turned right, taking the fifty-fifty chance that Mordecai would move away from the hidden door he'd emerged from. Holding his blades in a defensive stance, Entreri eased forward, concentrating on his other senses and instincts just as he had in the globe of darkness. Sure enough, moments later Mordecai apparently thrust forward, for two blades connected with Entreri's, and the assassin found himself parrying a strike which would have impaled him.
The heat of magical energy passed by Entreri's cheek then, and he saw through the mist a blue glow. An instant later, the assassin felt an impact upon Mordecai through their blades. Jarlaxle had apparently drawn one of his other wands—perhaps the one which shot magical missiles. Encouraged, Entreri pressed an attack, nicking at the figure he knew to be before him. It was possible that a single scratch from Charon's Claw could kill the drow. Mordecai brought up his blades, however, and deflected the strikes.
Entreri then sensed movement to his left. Suspecting that the drow was trying to retreat, he followed. The retreat was only logical, after all—Jarlaxle could drop the room into silence as soon as the current silence ended, and with such a limited capacity to cast spells, Mordecai had no chance of killing them both.
The mist began to clear, and Entreri could make out Mordecai's form heading for the hidden door. The assassin rushed the drow, who sensed him coming and turned, parrying each of Entreri's thrusts as the man descended upon him in a flurry of strikes. With each turn and twist of his blades, Mordecai worked to disarm Entreri, but he succeeded in only relieving each of them of one blade, in Entreri's case, his dagger. However, the magical silence lifted then, and the drow grinned. Whispering a final spell, Mordecai waved his hand across his chest, and Entreri found himself knocked backward by an invisible force. The drow immediately turned and ran through the hidden door, shutting it behind him; Entreri, however, just as quickly retrieved his dagger and approached the door. Jarlaxle stopped and picked up Mordecai's dropped falchion, then joined the assassin. A moment's search enabled Entreri to discover the trick and open the door, and then they entered a dark passageway.
Both the mercenaries ran silently, but their prey, being drow, made no noise either. After a few moments, Entreri realized that for the second time since his assassination of the shade, he was seeing in pitch-blackness—even if it were only a few feet in front of him. The assassin could continue pursuit this way, but since he knew Jarlaxle could see much better, he allowed him to lead. Still, even Jarlaxle stopped after several moments and looked with confusion in all directions.
He must have slipped through a trapdoor along the way, Entreri signed roughly in drow hand code. Jarlaxle gave him an odd look then, and Entreri smiled smugly. Yes, I can see, he signed to the elf.
Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow in surprise and signed his reply. I'll continue forward. You go back and check for trapdoors. He pointed to a light which they could just barely see far down the tunnel. If you find nothing, head toward the light.
Entreri nodded and turned back. Mordecai would not escape him. Even if he didn't catch the drow today, he would never stop his pursuit until Mordecai was dead.
Pride and ambition had often led the assassin to pursue a foe relentlessly, but neither trait informed Entreri's determination this time. The line Mordecai had crossed belonged to a class in itself, and the underlying emotion which motivated the assassin was not one he could have named even if he had acknowledged it.
Mordecai slipped from a second concealed passageway and inhaled the fresh air in the hallway. His anger and humiliation had doubled now, for he had made a critical error: even after serving under Jarlaxle and engaging the human in battle, he'd still allowed his prejudices to bias him. He had underestimated his enemies. He should have known better than to misjudge Jarlaxle, at least, and he had to wonder if he even had any soldiers left or if Jarlaxle's group had killed them all. Likewise, Mordecai held no doubt that the cunning mercenary had figured out at least part of his objective; Jarlaxle had to know he was after the Kagaor ki Tamal.
No matter. Mordecai had plans and plots enough to account for every contingency. And in the meantime, he'd send a little message to Entreri . . . Yes, he'd give the assassin something to ponder.
Tai walked down the corridor silently, although he knew it made little difference. Since he couldn't see in the dark hallway, he'd prayed for an enchantment upon one of his daggers, making it glow and enabling him to search for his allies—but also giving away his location to his enemies. It doesn't matter, he consoled himself. As drow, they could see me in the dark, anyway.
Although he'd finally killed the two drow who'd been chasing him, the young priest of Hoar felt a growing sense of unease as he searched for either his friends or an exit. He'd exhausted almost all of his spells in the fighting and had none left which could help defend him. Furthermore, he was discomforted by the fact the wizard who'd lived here likely had been very powerful, but the drow had apparently disposed of him easily. Tai found himself praying that his friends were still alive.
Tai sensed rather than heard the movement behind him. He whirled around, hoping to either see an ally or to blind a drow with his light. Neither wish was fulfilled. Mordecai, the drow who Tai had hazily seen Jarlaxle talking to earlier, was leaning against the wall grinning at him. An icy wave crashed through Tai's chest, causing his heart to skip so powerfully that he involuntarily coughed.
"Your friends slipped away from me . . . for now," Mordecai whispered softly. "But dear, sweet child, you shall not."
Suddenly, Tai's senses sharpened, intruding upon his concentration with details: the chill draft brushing his ankles, the bluish-white light of his enchanted dagger, the musty smell of dry-rotting leather, and the distant bang of an unlatched window in the wind. Tai found himself backing away. Hoar, help me!
Mordecai pushed off the wall and sauntered toward him with a look of ravenous violence. No, Tai's mind immediately rejected the one possibility that presented itself. That would never happen to me. Hoar would protect me from such a thing.
"Sorenseth," Mordecai whispered.
Tai's entire body froze in place. No! his mind screamed, but he was paralyzed. It was no mere holding spell, of that Tai was sure; so potent was this spell that the priest could barely breathe. Tai's mind jumbled into incoherency as overwhelming fear for his life swallowed his thoughts; the power of his panic caused his teeth to ache. With all his terror, Tai pushed against the spell, but not a single muscle twitched. His jaw had fallen slightly open before he'd been paralyzed, and now he desperately drew air in through his mouth, fighting a sensation of suffocation.
"Surely you did not think to resist me, human," Mordecai continued, smiling darkly. The drow rushed at him then, slapping the glowing dagger from his hand and grasping him in a chokehold. Tai could feel the pressure against his windpipe, cutting off his air, but couldn't react. The drow dragged him several feet down the hall and released him, forcing his paralyzed body into an awkward bend over a table. Then Mordecai leaned over him and rasped into his ear. "Remember this moment forever, iblith."
Nyx rounded another corner in what felt like a maze. The tower was either very well designed or magically enchanted against intruders because even though it was impossible, she felt like she'd been down the same corridor three times. She was growing not only frustrated, but anxious. She needed to find Tai, quickly!
When she reached the end of the hallway and turned yet another corner, she got her wish. Tai lay in a crumpled heap in the middle of the corridor.
"Oh, dear gods!" she yelled, rushing to Tai's side and dropping to her knees beside him. She took in the smell of vomit, blood, and semen, saw the torn pants tangled around Tai's knees, and understood instantly what had occurred. "Tai!"
The priest turned his gaze toward her without moving his head; the look in his eyes was eerily calm, blank, listless. "I had a run-in with a drow named Mordecai," he croaked in a shadow of a voice. Cold. Factual. "I lost. I prayed for healing, but I doubt I can walk . . . or at least not very well."
"I'm strong enough to carry you," Nyx said. She placed a warm hand upon his cool forehead, offering a moment's comfort that she doubted would help, then set about righting the priest's clothes.
Entreri stepped out of the portal and stood very still, trying to fight off the dizziness and faint nausea the unexpected teleportation had caused. After a few moments, he took stock of his environment: he was outside in the forest again, surrounded by the smell of mint and the chirping of crickets. Jarlaxle leaned against a nearby tree, his great floppy hat tilted slightly backward on his head. "A hidden portal in the passageway?" the assassin wondered aloud.
"It would seem so." The elf folded his arms across his chest. "We are, in fact, only twenty feet from the clearing where we left our horses."
Entreri scowled at the trees looming around him. "Does that mean Mordecai escaped into the forest as well?"
"I do not believe so. You found no trapdoors?"
Entreri shrugged. "I found what appeared to be a hidden door, but even my best efforts could not open it."
"There was no doubt some magic involved." Jarlaxle frowned. "Curious. Obviously Mordecai is a spellcaster, yet in all the time he's served in Bregan D'aerthe, we had no indication he was a wizard."
"I saw him cast a spell the first time I met him," Entreri said.
"When he attacked you?" Jarlaxle asked, obviously curious.
"No. I saw him the night before he attacked me, although he was disguised as a surface elf at the time." Entreri thought for a moment. "He healed a cat, oddly enough. I wonder . . . is he perhaps a priest?"
Jarlaxle smiled wryly. "Ah, yes. That is most likely it. We are dealing with a priest."
"Webs within webs, plots within plots," the assassin murmured.
Jarlaxle seemed merely intrigued. "Most certainly." He titled his hat back into place. "But what of our companions? Shall we remain here and hope they join us? Or shall we go back in search for them?"
Entreri's frown deepened, and he did not reply.
"I have faith our companions have survived," Jarlaxle said in the face of that scowl, "but if they haven't returned within a few minutes, we should go in after them."
Entreri nodded, and they waited in silence. Their concern was abated momentarily when they saw a figure enter the trees, but then they realized Nyx was carrying Tai slung over her shoulder.
"What happened?" Jarlaxle called, running up to the pair.
Nyx's face was stony. "He's badly injured. He says you have the ability to heal him." She eased Tai onto his feet, where he wavered, apparently off-balance.
Jarlaxle pulled out his healing orb and immediately began murmuring the spell. Tai stood stiffly within Nyx's grasp, his back to Entreri and Jarlaxle. The assassin narrowed his eyes, immediately uneasy. From this angle, he couldn't see any injuries; only Tai's posture revealed his pain. Still, something was worse than wrong.
"That should be enough," Jarlaxle said after several more moments. "Do you feel any lingering pain?"
Without turning around, Tai shook his head.
"Let's get back to Olostin's Hold," Nyx said curtly. "We'll regroup and finish them off later."
Jarlaxle started to speak, but he closed his mouth as he met Nyx's stare. The elf traded glances with Entreri, who merely shrugged; Jarlaxle frowned but saddled up along with Entreri, Nyx, and Tai and rode with them in silence. The woman seemed grim and distracted, while the boy appeared unnaturally calm—almost in a mindless trance. Since Entreri and Jarlaxle were focused on any possible dangers lurking about, nothing was said during the entire trip into the village.
The group returned to their small inn, and Nyx immediately took Tai up to his room, leaving Jarlaxle and Entreri to order supper in the near-empty tavern.
"They are acting strangely," Jarlaxle said.
Entreri, still angry over his run-in with Mordecai, merely nodded in response.
"Something has happened."
Entreri glanced at the elf, feeling uneasy once again, but didn't reply since Nyx had alighted on the stairs and was making her way toward them.
Supper passed in tense silence, and even after the meal, neither Nyx nor Entreri had calmed. When the barmaid took away their dishes, the assassin jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth across the empty tavern, trying hard not to think about his near-miss. Still, before he could shove the thoughts away, Mordecai's words returned to him—the implication that the drow would make him beg for the experience of having his body torn and his pride ground into dust. The insinuation that Mordecai would make him desire to be broken.
Entreri had growled in pure rage before he even realized he'd made any noise at all, and without thinking, he solidly punched the nearest wall. The impact caused several plaques to fall to the floor, and a few glasses tinkled on a nearby shelf. Suddenly aware both of himself and his uncharacteristic outburst, the assassin closed his eyes and counted to twenty slowly. Then he looked at his now-throbbing fist, only to find that he hadn't even bruised the skin. He grunted, impressed despite himself, and turned back toward the room where Jarlaxle and Nyx stared at him with utter shock. Entreri realized belated how truly odd he was behaving.
Nyx stood and walked over to him. "Why don't we get some fresh air?"
Entreri snorted, but he didn't resist the woman as she grabbed his elbow and steered him outside. They stood on the wooden sidewalk, next to the tavern window, but didn't speak at first. Entreri stared into the mostly deserted street for long moments before glancing at Nyx. The yellow light shining from the window awakened golden highlights in her auburn hair, but she kept her back to the light, her arms folded tightly against her chest. A sad, troubled frown turned down the corners of her mouth.
"What is it?" Entreri asked, more softly than he had intended.
Nyx met his gaze, and her dark eyes seemed to implore him. "Please, I . . . I don't know what happened to you back at the tower to anger you so, and I . . . I don't know whether you'll care or—or even if you have the capacity to care . . . but please . . . if there's any part of you that considers Tai your friend, go check on him. He . . ." She paused, clenching her jaw tightly. "He was hurt very badly. Mordecai . . ." She suddenly turned halfway away from Entreri, shutting her eyes and dropping her arms. She clenched her fists at her sides. "Damn that bastard! I hope he rots in the abyss!"
To his surprise, Entreri experienced a moment's fear, but it was quickly swallowed in a growing anger. "Nyx, what did Mordecai do?"
The monk presented her back to the man, but her tensed shoulders betrayed her. "The worst thing I can think of," she said, and the rage and grief grated her voice.
"Shhh, child," a ghostly voice whispered in Entreri's mind. "You want to be a good boy for Daddy, don't you?" The assassin smacked the thought away, but Mordecai's voice joined in an instant later: "forcing someone to beg me to ride them like an animal is a pleasure that transcends all boundaries."
Entreri growled to himself and dashed back through the door before Nyx could utter another word. He ran past Jarlaxle without looking at him and took the stairs three at a time. That bastard! he thought. If Mordecai . . . if that drow dared to . . .! Entreri couldn't seem to get his thoughts organized. I'll kill him became his only thought. If Mordecai actually . . . I'll kill the bastard, and then I'll have him resurrected from the dead just so I can kill him again!
A/N: I would just like tell you all that I had an extremely hard time writing this chapter. Originally, the chapter contained a semi-graphic rape scene, which was the hardest scene I've ever written. I had decided to portray the rape to enable readers to feel the extent of Tai's horror and pain. However, I realized I was making an assumption; some readers would feel plenty of horror and pain on Tai's behalf without the actual scene. Furthermore, I wouldn't want to traumatize any of my readers.
Another difficulty I experienced in making the decision was my personal reaction to the situation. Once I realized where I needed the characters to go (in other words, once I decided to write the scene), I felt so depressed I got stalled in the middle of chapter two. My muse left me for days. Even though Tai's not a real person, it genuinely hurt me to write the scene. It still hurts, even though the rape is now implied. In other words, it was not a decision I made lightly, and this is true for at least two reasons: firstly, I had both character development and plot issues in mind; secondly, I consider rape a very serious topic. In fact, I'm highly concerned about the implications of sexual violence (which is why I keep returning to it in my fanfics), and I am bothered by movies, novels, and stories which make light of sexual violence. Let's not even discuss how I react to things that make rape seem justified (the proverbial "she asked for it").
Therefore, I decided to leave the rape scene implied. I didn't want the scene, in its horror, to overshadow the rest of the story, nor did I feel that this particular story would benefit from such a graphic scene. Also, I believe many readers, myself included, couldn't read even an implied rape scene without being horrified—I believe that we care enough to hurt even for a fictional character. If that is so, I consider it a good thing: "Loss of empathy might well be the most enduring and deep-cutting scar of all"—Drizzt.