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Chapter 48

The departure

Kivan frowned at the sword and spear on his bed. Good, enchanted steel, valuable gifts from the city's rulers. He couldn't take both with him, though, especially given the bow and other equipment already strapped to his back. A nomadic life enforced a habit of frugality and carrying the bare minimum on his back, not knowing where he might lay his head to rest the next day. Yet here he was debating on which spoil of war was worthy of making the journey with him.

After a lingering look at the sword, he reached for the spear. With quick movements, he slipped the spear through a makeshift strap fashioned from a long strip of leather he'd requested from one of the palace servants. Gripping the shaft, he tightened the knot of the strap, securing the weapon tightly. Then he looped the strip over one shoulder, grimacing as he did. His chest wound would be a hindrance for the next month at least, by his estimation. Yet another scar on the wicked patchwork that was his torso. A reminder of what he'd lived through.

He paused, glancing out the window.

The sun would surface from the east horizon in an hour or so. That was the sign he needed to make his move before throngs of cheerful citizens began filing out from their homes. The city was still alight with festivities even week after the fall of Sarevok, people expressing joy and relief at the disaster averted, never mind that it was a disaster of their own making. The tale of his demise varied from quarter to quarter, ranging from the anticlimactic to the downright incredible. It was hard to say who gained more notoriety from the stories: Sarevok or the mysterious woman who vanquished him.

Idleness had given him ample time to reflect on his deeds. Vengeance was supposed to be simple, or so he'd thought. He'd spent months tracing a straight-line path to his heart's desire. His hated foe Tazok dead at the end of his blade, in the most gruesome manner he could manage as retribution for his crime. The sweetest dreams were woven from the exhilaration he'd feel at the end of the journey.

And yet.

Now that he'd arrived at that destination, he realised it wasn't a dead end. Paths, many paths, led away from the death and chaos he had wrought. And he found that he didn't quite know the way forward. He lived, while Deheriana remained as dead now as she was a year ago.

Jaw clenching, he turned on his heel and left the room.

The pristine hallways of the palace passed by like so much empty landscape. Only servants and guards were up and about so early in the morning, the space seeming much vaster in the silence. Fine with him, he thought. He was in no mood for chatter, cutting across the building to head for the less-watched servant's entrance. After all, he'd said his farewells to his companions the night before, the first of the group to break away and leave after months of traveling together and bleeding for one another.

Over dinner, Khalid had patted him on the back with a smile and a few kind words. Kivan felt comforted that he and Jaheira would continue to travel with Elene and Imoen. Until they find their lot in life, Khalid had said, ever the safe pair of hands.

Jaheira, however, surprised him. She'd pulled him aside, after expressing her gratitude, she gently advised him to take up a good cause, something to renew his purpose in life even after he'd lost everything. The way she spoke suggested experience, and wisdom beyond her years, though it was hard to imagine her as a directionless flotsam at any point in her life. Instead of chafing at her mothering as he usually did, he took her words to heart, and promised that he would think on it. Their parting handshake was warm, and he knew he would remember the druid with respect, if not fondness.

His last conversation with Xan was over a bottle of red wine, a solid vintage from the north, or so Xan told him. The liquid settled warm in his middle as they talked until late night about Evereska and Shilmista, the future of their kind, and their own plans. He noted that Xan was leaving a day after his own departure and couldn't help but wonder at what had happened between him and Elene. Two of the smartest people he'd ever met, yet somehow, they were incapable of figuring out how to overcome the issues that kept them apart. Being none of his business, though, he didn't push further. He doubted Xan would appreciate him prying into his personal affairs, so he merely wished his kin well on his journey.

Imoen had been waiting at his doorstep after he'd finished his chat with Xan. With her most potent doe eyes, she'd tried once again to convince him to stay with them. To join her, Elene, Jaheira and Khalid on their next journey, venture out and see the rest of the Realms together. Her sincerity was touching, but he had to let her down, though he did so gently. The journey he needed to take was to find himself. And he could only do that on his own.

Elene was oddly quiet, not saying much in the small snatches of private moments they shared in the last few days. Although he could see in her eyes, she had questions she wanted to ask. But to the very end, she held her peace, as though the fear of his answer outweighed her curiosity.

His journey with the group hadn't been all smooth sailing. Yet against all odds, he'd come out the other side with friends.

Kivan breathed deeply as he stepped out into the open air. The smell of bread, eggs and cooked meat wafted out from the kitchens behind him, and he resisted the urge to turn around and grab some breakfast. No, he missed the forests more. He yearned to be out in the wild. Though from now on, his hunts would not be as all-consuming as they used to be. As he turned to leave the compound of the Palace, though, he paused in surprise upon spotting a familiar face loitering by the exit.

"You didn't think I'd let you sneak off like that, did you?" asked Elene, though with a relaxed smile.

"I wasn't planning on sneaking off," he told her.

She nodded despite not believing a word he said. "Then you won't mind some company."

Ducking his head, he managed to smother the smile threatening to bloom. Elene walked by his side as he left the compound, with hands in her pockets and a calm expression. Despite her affected nonchalance, though, he could see the tenseness of her shoulders, and she surveyed each passing face with a critical eye as they headed east through the city. Life as a hunted woman had made her shifty, paranoid even. Kivan didn't blame her. Despite being raised up as the Hero of Baldur's Gate, there were whispers and murmurs of less savoury titles under the same breath. Once Sarevok's heritage and motives were discovered, many started glancing at their Hero with apprehension as well.

"You don't have to follow me to the Gate," he told her.

She smiled but said nothing. Clearly, she wasn't going to let him disappear into the dawn on his own. Stubborn woman, yet he couldn't find it in himself to turn her away. Her company as they crossed the city was comforting, though they barely said a word to one another. It reminded him of their quiet treks through the Wood of Sharp Teeth, as they hunted for signs of bandits. Her unwavering loyalty through their ordeals made him reconsider his own priorities, and what he had been willing to sacrifice for the sake of revenge.

He owed her far more than his life, he knew.

After nearly an hour's walk, the city's main gate loomed ahead, all but deserted in those early hours. He stopped a few paces away from the giant arch marking the entrance to the city, turning to face his companion.

Hands still in her pockets, she gazed up at him, expression carefully neutral. His eyes flicked briefly to her tawny locks, for the first time not concealed under a thick hood. He noted the wispy scar stretched across her throat, the coolness of her eyes, the sharp angles of her face from weeks of living on the run. Tenacious, clever, picking up more after Jaheira with each passing day, he thought. She didn't look much like the girl he'd found in those woods near the Coast Way.

He imagined she must think the same of him. The war paint usually adorning most of his face was gone. There was no need to partake in the old ritual now, since his hunt ended with Tazok's last breath. He'd already offered up his enemy's soul to Shevarash as tribute. Perhaps he dressed the same, said the same things, but as he stood before her, he felt like a different elf entirely. He'd shorn his dark hair after the events in the Undercity, shorter than it had ever been his whole life. His entire being felt lighter, now that he was free of the weight he'd carried for years.

"I am not one for many words," he began, squeezing her shoulder gently. "But...thank you, my friend. With you, I have fulfilled my oath to Shevarash." A grim smile darkened his features. "The monster has been sent to where he belongs."

"It's me who should be thanking you." She ducked her head. "If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't have even made it to meet Khalid and Jaheira."

An image appeared unbidden in his thoughts. That of a small lion cub, so small and harmless upon entering the world. Yet once nurtured into adulthood, becomes an apex predator capable of despatching any creature in the wild. Perhaps he'd been sheltering a predator all along, but at least this one was capable of reading between right and wrong.

He half-shrugged. "We can call it even then."

A door creaked open in the distance, followed by unintelligible shouting. Likely some drunk getting thrown out before the breakfast crowd began to file in. The city was beginning to come to life around them even as they stood together. After a few breaths, Elene began to fidget in place, the previously composed woman slipping back into jittery tics of discomfort. Perhaps around him, she would always be that naïve, anxious girl fresh out of a cloistered library.

"Ask," he said, his tone gentle.

"What..." she shifted from one foot to the other, "What happens now?"

He understood what she was asking. What happens after vengeance? Now that the fire has been quenched, very little sparked his interest, drew his eye. There would be a long road ahead of him before he could find his own answer to her question. But he hoped that there would be something for her to look forward to, despite the single-minded ferocity with which she pursued Sarevok at the very end.

"You find something else to live for."

The minute quirk of her lips betrayed her amusement. "You say it like it's easy."

"It's not," he admitted. "But very few things worth doing are ever easy."

She watched him carefully. "Will you try?"

He dropped his gaze. For years, Deheriana was the light that guided him. With her life extinguished, he would struggle in the dark for years to come. He wondered if he would ever manage to find a way out.

"What will you do now?" he asked instead.

Elene gave him a knowing look, accepting his evasion with her usual grace. "Return to Candlekeep, at least for a while." She squinted at the sky, as though searching for portents written there. "Maybe try to find out more about Alaundo's prophecies. Get answers to some of the questions bothering me. Ideally, I would like to find a way to avoid whatever fate planned for me and others like me. Finally apply my much-vaunted skills as a librarian."

"Scribe in training," he corrected.

She breathed out a laugh. "Same thing in the end. Either way, I think those days are long gone."

Her smile was full of melancholy, and he wanted to turn away from the meaning behind her words. They will never be the people they once were. He'd skirted dangerously to abandoning everything elven about himself in the pursuit of Tazok. With the blood on her hands, she will never be innocent again. What were they but pale husks of the people wronged by monsters like Sarevok and Tazok?

"Xan's not coming with you, is he?" he wondered aloud, changing the subject again.

"You already know the answer to that." She sighed. "We all knew from the start."

Kivan shook his head in disappointment. "Both of you spend too much time in your own heads. Life is short. Fight for what you want to hold onto."

Elene fidgeted with her sleeve. "I wish it were that simple."

For an instant, he almost wanted to shake her. It is simple, he wanted to say. Take it with both hands before it is taken from you. Then he remembered who she was. What she was. Yes, she had the power to make things happen simply by willing it so. He'd felt that power burn through his flesh, mending that which had been broken with raw willpower. But her achievements always came at a steep cost, to herself and those around her. Her adopted father, her friends in Candlekeep were all testament to that. The bodies will continue to pile up wherever she went, and Xan may very well end up being one of them before the end.

A shame. For even a child of Murder deserved happiness.

Brows furrowing, he reached over to touch her cheek. "Promise me you'll live. For both of us."

She seemed to struggle with her next words, before meeting his eyes evenly. "I…will try."

That was good enough for him. He dropped his hand.

"Thank you, Kivan," she said softly. "You...well... You taught me more than all the books I've read in Candlekeep, that's for sure."

He gathered her into his arms just as her eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. Despite being cut, burned, beaten, and nearly maimed in the recent weeks, he didn't think he could take the sight of her crying. Fingers dug into his back as she clung onto him like a lifeline, but she didn't make a sound. He would miss her companionship, he realised, and their quiet talks. The first friend he'd made in over a decade, the steady hand guiding him forward in the darkness, free of all judgment.

"May the wind always be at your back," he whispered into her hair.

And he let her go.

With a last look, he smiled as she rubbed at her eyes. She gave him a watery smile of her own, looking as vulnerable in that instance as she was when he'd saved her from the first bounty hunter in the Friendly Arm Inn. Even so, he knew she would carve her own path in life, prophecies be damned. One should always watch out for the quiet ones, after all.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, the one with the spear attached, then headed off towards the Wyrm's bridge. Orange was spreading over the horizon, marking the start of a new day. His way forward was clear, the cobbled pathway empty but for a few stray wagons seeking passage into the city, manned by bleary-eyed drivers. Beyond the bridge, he saw the woods beckoning. His goal for the day was to head south, then after a few days east to the Wood of Sharp Teeth. To seek out Deheriana's resting place, and perhaps put his ghosts to rest.

After, well…

Halfway across the bridge, he paused. Half-turned, glancing back the way he came. Sure enough, Elene stood on one of the battlements near the tollhouse, watching him from afar. Distance made it difficult to read her expression, so he simply raised a hand in farewell. After a moment, she returned his gesture with a wave, swaying a bit on her perch as she did.

Turning away, he smiled. He didn't quite know the way forward once he comes to terms with his inner demons. But if a child of Bhaal was willing to fight for a purpose beyond what was written in her blood…

He would try to find a way, too.

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Author's Note:

I know, I can't believe it's over either.

It started with Kivan, so I thought it fitting to conclude with his viewpoint as well. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, and that the story sparked interesting thoughts and feelings for you along the way. It was truly a pleasure to write it, I felt like I fell in love with the characters all over again as I wrote each of them.

On that note, do feel free to share your thoughts and feelings either through reviews or DMs, especially if you have views on a sequel. I have a decent outline started for BGII so far, with key themes and an ending in mind, but nothing set in stone as yet. I plan to continue with the alternating POV style as it's fun to switch perspectives for me as a writer. The first chapter of the sequel will be up around 6/7 November and I plan for that project to be written over a longer period as a weekly update schedule is a bit too intense in hindsight. I've a mind to take things a bit slower, maybe try some new things. :p

Thank you so much to you, kind readers, especially to Nikoru Sanzo, TripleF and ShoujoOnmyouji for taking the time to review over multiple chapters. Your thoughtful words helped fuel inspiration along the way. :)

And last but not least, a thousand thanks to my beta Odivallus. Your patience and attention to detail are so deeply appreciated, you have no idea.