Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 39

The spark

Kivan observed as Khalid took off his armour piece by piece. Still some time to go before he had to start his turn on watch. Khalid had nothing to update from the past hour, as suspected here in no man's land. A nice change from the chaotic events earlier in the day, if he were to be honest with himself.

The middle watch was always the worst, hence why Kivan had always chosen it. Since Shilmista, he'd had little need to reverie much, always being the one depended on to be the scout or rear-guard of the tribe. Deheriana had once said it was just how the Gods made him. The suffering he'd endured after her death made it even harder for him to lie idle while his enemy yet breathed.

Raking his eyes across the camp, he saw that Elene's bedroll lay empty. Out brooding somewhere in the woods, he suspected. From the way she broke the news hours ago, it was clear to him that she had not dealt with the knowledge she'd unearthed in Candlekeep. Another sleepless night for the young elf.

He jerked his head towards her bedroll. "When did she head off?"

"Quite some time ago, actually. She headed east," Khalid replied, pointing to the treeline.

Odd that Khalid had allowed her to go off on her own for long, but then again, it was an odd sort of night. After Elene's quiet admission of what she'd discovered, everyone had been thrown into a loop. From what he saw, each of them torn between coming to terms with the newfound knowledge and wanting to know more about it.

But she had retreated into her shell after the initial revelation. It seemed she had nothing more to offer, and they knew well enough to give her space. Or in Jaheira's case, had to be reminded of it a few times before they turned in for the night.

"I'll go check on her," he said, already moving toward the trees.

The sound of crickets accompanied him as he ventured through the woods. Autumn's touch was evident from the fallen leaves littering the ground, pooling beneath the bigger trees. It was a pleasant walk for him. A calming, untouched patch of land between Candlekeep and the Coast Way. He could imagine Gorion and Elene fleeing on this route, hidden as it was from the roads, sparse on wolves and other natural predators. Likewise, he doubted he would be able to get much fare hunting in that region other than the odd rabbit or two.

Alone with his thoughts, he wondered what tomorrow might bring. They settled in for the night without deciding the way forward, an unusual occurrence for a party run by someone like Jaheira. For him, his own plan had a new focus now. Children of a dead God, a false murder charge, Sarevok's mad schemes for war, none of that mattered to him. Sarevok himself did, though. The man had signed off at least several letters to Davaeorn from what he remembered. At least he knew who was at the top of this food chain and who Tazok ultimately answered to.

Ergo, his target had shifted to Sarevok. Along the way, Tazok will surely surface.

As for Elene…while he was deeply disturbed by the news, he couldn't say he was terribly shocked. From the hunters to the strange dreams to the even stranger abilities she kept developing, he knew there was something special about her. Especially when he recalled the sensation he'd felt at the receiving end of her healing. The vivid bloodthirst she displayed when she got into her rhythm in battle. How she became stronger and faster with each kill, as though death itself fuelled her. So many things finally made sense now.

Pausing, he crouched over a thoughtlessly discarded half-eaten fruit. Letting out an annoyed breath, he got back to his feet and kicked it into the bushes to conceal it. Skilled hunters would be able to pick up their trail from something so innocuous.

She should know better than to be so careless.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the Godchild issue. On one hand, Bhaal struck him as an evil God, if the Lord of Murder moniker was anything to go by. And yet from what he'd seen of Elene, he just couldn't imagine her being born of evil. This was the girl willing to let a drow go simply because she felt it was the right thing to do. The same girl who put herself in danger to keep a promise to a friend.

No, he decided. This newfound knowledge shouldn't change the way he perceived her. He'd seen her for who she was, and he saw no evil there. Not even close. He knew what evil truly looked like.

Following a circuitous patrol route, he eventually found Elene sitting cross-legged on a grassy knoll, pulling absently at the grass beneath her. Circling, he paused right in front of her. She didn't seem surprised by his presence. If anything, she almost seemed to expect him. Appraising her expression, though, he thought she looked like when he first met her, lost and out of place. He took a deep breath, then settled down, side by side with her.

"Did you get any rest?" he asked.

"Some."

He touched the ground, idly running his fingers along the cool grass. "Dreams?"

A slow exhale was her only response. It told him enough.

"What do you see? In these dreams?" he probed further.

She cocked her head slightly in thought. "The past, sometimes. In a different light." A small chuckle escaped her. "I've always wondered who that voice was in these dreams. At least I don't have to wonder anymore."

He stared at her. "You hear Bhaal in your dreams?"

"Maybe. It's as good a guess as any."

No wonder she doesn't rest much.

"What do the," he waved his hand, "prophecies say, about his children?"

"That chaos will follow wherever they go. Many of the Readers I grew up with believe that the Children are instruments in Bhaal's resurrection. Yet Sarevok said there could only be one at the end." She scrubbed tiredly at her face. "I can't even begin to guess at what that means. Makes me wish I'd studied Alaundo's writings properly back then."

"Can you avoid what's been foretold?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

Judging from the slump of her shoulders, he knew well enough to let the subject drop. While he had been shocked at the revelation of her true nature, he could only guess at how she felt. While she managed to survive the catacombs, he could see the experience had taken its toll. She appeared worryingly fragile, with cracks showing at the seams. Her movements were stiff, her skin pale, her usually smooth tawny hair frizzing out of her braid. She looked to be held together by naught by hope.

He had a hard time reconciling this person before him with the woman who took her knives to Sarevok's messenger. A wanton act of violence so completely out of character that he had stared at the body for a long time in disbelief.

"What happened in the catacombs?" he asked, for once being the one uncomfortable with the silence.

"Doppelgangers. A group of them." Her answer was almost mechanical. "They…replaced a few of my old friends. Haven't been at it for very long, from the look of it."

He grasped her shoulder briefly. "You didn't kill your friends. You avenged them."

She dropped her gaze. "So I tell myself. It's hard though…to look into their faces and…"

Her words trailed off into the quiet night. Yet he could hear the pain loud in her voice. She should direct that pain into anger, he thought. It was far easier to deal with than the crushing grief and self-recrimination.

"What did Sarevok's man tell you?" he asked.

Her features darkened. "Sarevok left for the Gate after he was told of my sentencing. He's putting his power grab into play for the Iron Throne leadership the second he reaches the city. The messenger was part of a group meant to ensure I don't leave Candlekeep by any means."

"Hmm. We met his friends in the upper levels."

She flicked a glance at him. "You killed them?"

He nodded.

"Good."

Clearing his throat, he pushed down his own discomfort at the unfamiliar viciousness in her tone. "What are you going to do?"

She hunched over, appearing to draw into herself at his question. For a long time, she kept her eyes locked on the treeline ahead, unmoving. The gears dangerously turning in her head. He let her work things through in the silence. It wasn't too chilly a night, pleasant enough to repose on the grass for a long stretch.

"I've thought it through," she admitted. "The only way to clear my name is to return to the Gate and find evidence of Sarevok's doings. And then I'd need a benefactor to vouch for whatever I find. Duke Eltan might, perhaps, assuming we can find a way into the city in the first place."

Then she made a face. He angled towards her, watching her closely.

"What?"

"I…" she pulled at her sleeves. "Honestly, I don't know what I hope to achieve by going back to the Gate. Gorion was a powerful mage in his own right. But Sarevok…he killed Gorion like it was nothing. And that was before he made himself leader of the Iron Throne, with all these resources at his disposal." She began to wring her hands. "What chance do I have standing against someone like that? I mean, he's been preparing for this for years."

He glared at her. "What does it matter? You plan. As you always do. Then you face him."

She huffed a small laugh. "It's one thing to go against his lackeys all this while. Sarevok himself…Kivan, you didn't meet him. He's so powerful, I can feel it. And he knows I'm coming. How can I possibly beat him?"

Kivan shook his head in disgust. "Listen to yourself. This man killed your father. Drove you out of your home. Attacked your home to get at you. I could go on about the depths of his crimes against you. Are you just going to let that slide?"

Elene hugged her knees to her chest, chastened by his words.

He pointed at the scar on her throat, a glaring memento from the bounty hunter in Nashkel. The one who almost succeeded. "And have you forgotten that? The hunters at every town? Do you think he will ever stop pursuing you?"

Her brows began to furrow in thought.

"Elene, you want him dead." His hand slashed the air. "In the most painful way you can imagine. Make him pay for what he's done to you and those you love. The only thing you need to ask yourself now is…how badly do you want him to pay for what he's done."

She didn't respond. His point made, he turned to face forward once more. They fell into a contemplative silence. Talk of giving up angered him. He'd faced war, tragedy, bereavement, and it never occurred to him to run from any of it. For him, to run was to accept one's fate as prey for the rest of their miserable lives. After all they'd been through, he had a hard time imagining Elene as prey now. Prey didn't kill things with the ease she displayed. And prey did not gather such strong followers to her so effortlessly, loyal followers who willingly adopted her cause as their own.

At the end of the day, there was no doubt in his mind that he would follow her on this path if she chose to take it. He suspected the others would, too. Imoen would never abandon her friend. He didn't know anything about Harper business, but Jaheira and Khalid had sworn guardians' oaths to protect Elene and they were the type of people who would see that through. And Xan. Well, as much as he tried to hide it, his feelings for Elene were obvious if you knew what to look for. One could study for centuries in an esteemed academy, but the heart was a muscle you could never educate or train.

Kivan didn't need to be raised in a library to know that.

"Tazok. Does he haunt you even now?" she asked at last, her voice quiet.

"Every single day."

After chewing his answer over, he saw her straightening out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he watched the flicker of contrasting emotions on her face before her fine features hardened as she made up her mind. He'd seen that expression before.

"It's going to be dangerous. We'd be going after the lion in his own den," she said.

"No doubt," he agreed. "But we've known that even before you learned of your heritage."

She turned to look at him, with steel in her spine and a new light in her eyes. It was a different look, he thought, one he was not entirely familiar with. Where there was once a girl swept hither and thither with the tides, this woman in front of him was more like a torrent of water waiting to be set loose on its destructive path.

"Will you come with me?" she asked.

A bitter laugh escaped him at the easiest question he'd ever had to answer. "Where Sarevok lies in wait, Tazok will be too. Your enemy is my enemy."

He reached over and grasped her hand in a warrior's grip. A gesture infused with promise. She looked at their linked hands and let out a shaky breath. Slowly, she tightened her fingers around his, then raised her eyes. There was hidden strength there. And it wasn't because the blood of a God flowed through her veins. Despite his initial perception of her, he knew now that she had always been strong in her own way.

"Then we will see it through," she said, echoing their old promise.

With a solemn nod, he released her. In his younger days in Shilmista, the older warriors used to have rituals. Blood pacts of sorts, to seal important oaths. In that moment with her, he felt an echo of the kinship with his people in Shilmista. The brothers and sisters he went into battle with during their war against an invading ogrillon and his army. Hard to believe almost ten years had passed since, and here he was on the verge of another bloody conflict.

"Let's head back. It's my turn for watch," he jerked his head toward the direction of camp.

She grimaced. "Maybe I can try to catch some rest."

The walk back to camp was quiet, both having said what they needed to. Despite her fatigue, she walked with renewed purpose. Good, he thought. He infinitely preferred that to the brooding and moping.

Elene did get some hours of reverie in the end. If anything, she was the last to arise in the morning, the sun already bright above them. Imoen was quickly at her side when she awoke, shoving food and water at her friend. The whispering started between the two friends soon after, much more sombre than their usual tittering in the morning and at night.

Kivan absently watched from the edge of camp as he tweaked the fletching on a special set of piercing arrows. A good set of arrows, which could have been even better had the merchant in Baldur's Gate paid more attention to the details. Jaheira, Khalid, and Xan sat off to one side in varying states of weariness, exchanging terse notes about their inventory. Given the rushed departure from Baldur's Gate and harrowing escape from Candlekeep, they would have to restock key supplies sooner than they would have liked.

"Highhedge could be a possibility, provided Thalantyr is in a charitable mood," huffed Jaheira.

"If you'd like flammable rations, perhaps," noted Xan. He looked paler than usual that morning.

Jaheira glanced at him. "You could still head into Beregost with a disguise."

"I suppose," Xan agreed reluctantly, then cast a wary glance at Elene. "A few of us could do so. Nashkel is further south but less risky."

"That would add more days to travel back to the Gate," Khalid pointed out.

"Which would be a problem if I meant to go back to the Gate," Xan said slowly.

"You do not wish to pursue the matter further?" Jaheira cocked an eyebrow.

He hesitated. "I…have yet to decide on it."

Conversation paused as Elene approached them with Imoen by her side. She looked recharged, a cold fire in her eyes despite having only a few hours of rest after the ordeal she had gone through. Kivan suddenly saw a glimpse of himself in her, which sparked a sense of pride in him somehow.

"How are you…feeling?" Khalid asked her as she came to a halt next to him.

"I'll live," she said simply, staying on her feet. "When are we setting off?"

Her three companions glanced at each other for a moment before Jaheira frowned at her. "Where do you think we're going?"

"Back to the Gate, of course."

Jaheira's frown deepened. "While I'm pleased you've recovered from yesterday, we need to think this through, there's a price on all our heads…"

"You may think it through if you wish," Elene cut her off, her expression apathetic. "I'm heading back. And I'm going to kill Sarevok Anchev."

Kivan put down the arrow in his hands, now focusing all his attention on the exchange. For a moment, the camp had fallen into silence, all motion frozen. Elene had captured his and everyone else's rapt attention.

"My dear," Khalid began, casting an uncertain glance about the group, "We understand that you're…upset at what happened, but is chasing revenge really the answer?"

"Revenge, justice, call it what you will. What matters is that he dies," Elene replied.

Jaheira stared at her ward with incredulity, then shot an acidic look at Kivan, addressing him. "You. What have you been filling her head with?"

Before he could bite back a retort, Elene held out her hand to forestall their argument. "I'm not a child, Jaheira. Haven't been one for a long time. This is my decision and mine alone. Sarevok has wronged me, and I don't intend to let that slide."

Next to her, Imoen nodded firmly in support. Just as Kivan expected.

"Oh, yes?" Jaheira tapped the ground in front of her. "And how do you plan to carry out this decision of yours?"

"There are ways. We can reach out to Coran, Narlen, Aldeth, a number of people we've helped in the Gate. Not all of them will be eager to believe Sarevok's propaganda." Then Elene gave Jaheira a pointed look. "And you have connections, too. Can we not rely on them now?"

"Old friends they may be, but you're reaching if you think I can get Harper buy-in for a vendetta," said Jaheira.

"Sarevok is dangerous to everyone, though," Imoen pointed out. "He's tryin'a start a war!"

"He left the Knights of the Shield alive. They're still in the picture," Xan added quietly.

Elene nodded. "Is that not something worth putting a stop to?"

Khalid and Jaheira exchanged looks before Jaheira replied, "It is. Though I would prefer if we could plan this out carefully before any leaps of judgment."

"We can plan as we go. As we always do."

Jaheira sighed. "And look where that has landed us."

"We're ready for 'em this time, though. No more red herrings, Sarevok is who we're after," said Imoen.

"Cut off the head and the body dies," echoed Elene.

Kivan nodded. Just like what happened with the bandits. Yet frustratingly enough, the body tended to scatter to the four winds once the head rolled. This time he had to make sure Tazok won't elude him. His vengeance will be delayed no further.

"It would be remiss of us to let Sarevok walk after what he's done. Gorion's death cannot go unanswered. As for what he's planning, he is obviously a threat to all in the region," Jaheira said after a long, prickly silence. "You are right, in a way. Baldur's Gate is a big city, it would be hard for them to catch a few mice sneaking in. We need only find the right holes, as it were."

Elene tilted her head with interest. "Do you have something in mind?"

Jaheira and Khalid exchanged a furtive look before the druid explained, "While there's only one way into the city on land, a large portion of the Gate is surrounded by water. Our best bet is to look to the seas or waterways."

"Smugglers?" Elene asked.

"You're catching on," nodded Jaheira. "That may be our way in, as long as we have the coin for it."

"We could try asking the fishermen who live north of the Friendly Arm," added Khalid. "They may have boats we can use as well."

"Does that mean you'll come?"

Jaheira scoffed. "Of course, we'll come. You wouldn't last a day on your own." She flicked a glance at Imoen. "Either of you."

Elene smiled at the backhanded show of support. Then she looked to Xan. "Your thoughts?"

Xan had been avoiding eye contact for the entire conversation, and he continued to find his hands more interesting. Analysing the situation to death again, most likely. One of the things Kivan never understood about his kin, how he can be so utterly decisive in the heat of battle yet agonise so much over simple matters outside of it. Finally, though, he managed to pull himself together to finally look Elene in the eye.

"My task was to investigate the source of the iron crisis. I already have the answers I seek."

A minute crack appeared in Elene's otherwise cool façade. "Does this mean you're leaving?"

"Well. It is not Evereska's fight," Xan said with heavy reluctance.

"But it's mine," Elene pointed out.

The look Xan gave her was troubled, the face of someone at war with himself. "Must you be the one to face him? Can you not let him be buried by the folly of his own ambition?"

"Look what he's done to me!" she pointed at herself. "Do you think he'll ever stop?"

"He will face his doom eventually, as will all others like him."

"And if he doesn't?"

Her ominous words hung heavy in the air. She was right, Kivan thought. A godchild does not abide by the rules of normal men. Sarevok may plague them for a long time to come if he was not dealt with quickly. Xan blanched as he seemed to arrive at the same conclusion.

"This Sarevok." Xan swallowed before asking, "He's not inciting war for gold, is he?"

"Gold is the least of his concern, I think," she replied with a bitter smile. "The prophecies have always been vague. It was never clear if Bhaal will return as he was, or rise through a child who holds enough of his spark. None of the monks could agree on the interpretation."

"He considers you a rival," Xan realised. "Are you?"

Elene glared at him. "I want nothing to do with Bhaal or any of his legacy. I only wish to be left alone."

Xan sighed. "I believe you. I…just needed to be sure. As if our quest was not dangerous enough at the start. It just gets worse."

"Will you come with us then?"

"Very well," he relented, fingering the hilt of his moonblade. "If this madman ascends, we're all doomed anyway."

"Always delightful to have your sunny perspective," remarked Jaheira.

"Yeah, way to draw a silver lining," agreed Imoen.

"Alright," Elene nodded, grim satisfaction in her tone. "We should move soon. Let's head to Beregost first."

A mixture of feelings beset Kivan as he saw Jaheira, Khalid and Xan prepare to move out at her statement. Gone was the girl so crippled by self-doubt that she chose to hide behind the proverbial skirts of someone strong like Jaheira. She could stand on her own now. She could fight her own crusade.

And he would gladly follow.

"Are ya sure you wanna do this?" Imoen asked her as they went to retrieve their bedrolls.

"Yes. It's time to stop running."

Elene glanced at Kivan, a knowing look in her sombre green eyes. Finally, she understood.