I'm back from my depression hiatus, and this chapter is pretty all over the place. Introducing a new PoV, a face from Sarevok's past, and a change to Melissan cause she's lame in the game. This chapter starts at the exact moment the last chapter ended.
Chapter 3: The Gathering Storm
Imoen
"And I need you."
Imoen sat beside the door to Sarevok's bedroom, back against the wall, her scratchy gray cloak wrapped around her, ensuring that even if someone walked down the hall, all but tripping over her, they wouldn't notice her.
She wasn't invisible, that's not how the cloak worked. Instead, it made her just a fixture of her surroundings. Just as unimportant as a side table, as dull as a lamp. Something that one accepts as meant to be there, but not worthy of their attention or scrutiny.
It was how she had managed to slip an Inquisitor's wedding ring right off his finger without so much as a glance up at her. Sitting at his desk in his room, humming a hymn to his god while he wrote a letter to his daughters, Keldorn's impressive abilities, meant to reveal the unrevealable, illuminate the invisible, were made null and void against the loophole of the cloak's subtle power.
Behind the door beside her, the sounds of kissing turned to desperate murmurs, then gasps and moans as her sister fucked their brother.
Imoen wanted the anger to come, but it eluded her. She wanted that sense of betrayal to come flaring back to life within her breast, the way it did when Rana stood before them all and told her story of when she was a child. The story she had never shared with Imoen. But that, too, remained just out of reach.
Maybe this was due to the fact that nothing Rana did could surprise her anymore. She didn't know how long she'd been lying to herself. Didn't know how long she held her end of the rope that bound them together, the rope that blinded her to what her sister was slowly becoming. The rope that lended her excuse after excuse for the rot Imoen could see growing behind her sister's eyes. Only when Rana left, with Sarevok at her side, for that temple, leaving Imoen behind like so much else Rana had abandoned over the years, did Imoen finally look down at her hands and see they were raw and bloody from holding onto that damn rope long after Rana had pulled it taught to the point of snapping. Long after it had frayed, and the friction of holding onto something that was pulling away from her, with more strength than she had to hold on, had burned her so deeply that she had become numb to the pain it caused.
When she and Haer'Dalis returned from their walk last night, and she learned of Rana's return, she had to stop herself a hundred times from going to her. From banging down her door and throwing her arms around her. From begging her for forgiveness for her part in their fight. She hated quarreling with her sister. More than anything.
Back in Candlekeep, when Gorion learned, to his exasperation, that the two girls could not be separated, he gave up and began to encourage what was already happening naturally. He taught them the importance of looking after one another. Of watching each other's backs. They'd taken those lessons to heart, and it didn't take long before Gorion and Winthrop began teasing about the devastation the two girls would unleash upon the realms once they were eventually released into the wilds.
That memory would have made her smile if she didn't feel so hollow.
As soon as the sun began to rise, Imoen had quietly extricated herself from a snoozing Haer'Dalis and made her way to Rana's room. Seeing the tangled blankets, but no sign of her sister, she assumed she'd already risen, from a bad dream probably, and began heading for the stairs. She'd stopped though, one foot poised to take the first step down, when a suspicion began to take root. Grabbing her cloak from her room, she'd went to Sarevok's room and pressed her ear to the door.
"You think I give a damn about Haer'Dalis? About Imoen? About Valygar or Keldorn or any of the others? I'm yours, my dhaer. If watching the light leave their eyes would please you, then I will walk out of this room and bring them before you, and cut each of them down until this room runs red with the same torrents of blood that you saw running down the front of the Iron Throne in your dream. I don't fight for them, I don't bleed for their ideals, I don't kill for this realm or its people. I do all of this for you and you alone."
Her disgust at hearing those words spoken had been so great that she'd missed Rana's reply. For which she was thankful, as only moments after Sarevok had uttered that declaration, the sounds coming from the room suggested that Rana wasn't too upset with his offer to kill them all.
Rising to her feet, nauseous from what she was hearing on the other side of the door, Imoen returned to Rana's empty room and began to rummage through her things.
She couldn't trust a single word that came out of her sister's mouth, so she was going to see for herself if she was hiding anything else. As she dug through dresser drawers and thumbed through her journals, which she couldn't read because they'd been written in Elvish, her blood finally began to boil.
Imoen knew that Sarevok wanted Rana to ascend and why. And she knew that Rana was also aware. The fact that the pair was currently in bed together meant that Rana either planned to go along with his plans, or he had abandoned them. There were other possibilities certainly, Imoen didn't doubt that she could be lying about wanting to ascend, but sex wasn't something Rana used deceptions to get. And she knew Sarevok, just because her sister had chosen to forget who he was, didn't mean Imoen had. If there was power to be gained, Sarevok wouldn't give up the hunt.
She wanted to believe that he'd capitalized on Rana's loneliness and seduced her. She wanted to believe that her sister was the victim here, an unwitting pawn in their brother's schemes. But that was the rope talking, she was sure of it. And no matter how many winding paths her mind ventured down, trying to figure out why this was all happening, in the end the answer didn't matter. What mattered was that Rana had lied. Repeatedly. What mattered was that Rana was in bed with the man who butchered Gorion and the people they had loved in Candlekeep. The man who scarred her. The man who once haunted their nightmares while they stumbled along the Sword Coast, searching for answers while dodging assassins.
Imoen could forgive a lot. Had forgiven a lot.
But she couldn't forgive this.
She couldn't blame the taint. Or Bhaal. Or Irenicus. This was all Rana. And Sarevok, too, but in some ways she couldn't blame him. When the wolf steals a sheep the shepherd may rail at the beast, but what he's really angry at is the wolf's nature, not the wolf itself. It can't help what it does. What its instincts tell it to do. Sarevok was acting as he'd always done. This didn't surprise her, and while the consequences enraged her, the shepherd who yelled and cried over what the wolf had done was wasting time and leaving the rest of his flock open to attack.
You don't tell the wolf how betrayed you feel.
You put it down.
The memory of her and Rana soaking in the hot springs together swam into her mind. She gave her the chance to fess up to everything and instead Rana fed her some more lies. That was the first time she'd begun to suspect it. She had gobbled them up, just as she always had, only this time she noticed the words tasted bitter and wrong.
And if it had taken that long to finally begin peeking beneath the blindfold she held to her own face, how many other times had she gorged herself on Rana's falseness?
Tears blurred her vision, and she angrily swiped at her eyes before yanking open one of the dresser drawers. It took her a moment to quiet her mind before she could grasp what lay within.
Rows of tiny, carefully labelled bottles, the writing so small on each that she had to squint to make it out, even holding it practically to her nose.
Essence of Ether… Malice… Midnight Tears… Pale Tincture… Viper Venom… Wyvern Poison…
Why would Rana have all of these? They'd regularly poisoned their weapons in the past, with things like the Wyvern Poison, but the rest she'd never seen outside of a shop or witch's den. And she knew some of these, like Midnight Tears, were useless unless ingested.
Feeling around the corners of the drawer, she pressed against a small groove in the wood and heard something click. A secret compartment. Inside, two thin and very worn journals lay. These were written in common, and not in Rana's hand. One detailed the uses of the poisons, with notes in the margin that she recognized as her sister's handwriting, small notations made about variations in dosages according to race or gender.
The second book was a diary, and looked to be very old. The name of the author was unknown to her, but he was a self-professed priest of Mask. Skimming through the contents, the man detailed the unorthodox ways of worshipping the God of Shadows. From stealing gold from churches of both good and evil, to dedicating an assassination in His name. How to call upon His favor in hiding one's movements and muffling sounds.
So… Rana worships Mask now. I wonder how Mielikki feels about this.
That thought gave her pause. Rana hadn't used the minor druid spells that she'd learned since becoming a ranger. In a long time. Maybe she couldn't anymore? And was this before or after she started following Mask?
She briefly wondered if Sarevok had anything to do with this, but dismissed that thought outright. He'd never shown himself to be the kind of man who bothered with gods, outside of becoming one himself, of course. And, looking back, Rana's gradual shift from upstanding ranger to morally gray thief began happening long before Sarevok's return.
The door opened and Rana walked in. Imoen still wore her cloak, but she froze when her sister entered the room and swept past her to begin filling her bathtub with water.
A dozen different ways to open this conversation flashed through her mind, and her heart raced because she wasn't ready for this. She had thought she was, but Rana's sudden appearance threw her for a moment.
She didn't know what outcome she wanted. A large part of her yearned for her sister to apologize. To admit to everything without Imoen forcing the truth from her. To have her ask for her help in getting Sarevok out of their lives for good. It was a fool's hope. A girl's hope. She knew that, but that's what she wanted deep down.
The other part of her, in the darkened corner of her heart that she fought to keep silent, wanted Rana to react exactly as she predicted she would. She wanted the inevitable fight. She wanted the yelling, wanted those brutal, slicing words that she knew Rana could hurl at her when backed into a corner. She wanted that pain. If only so it could begin to scar already. So that she wouldn't be hurt by her sister any longer.
The anguish and the hesitation burned away when Rana walked by her again and Imoen got a better look at her. Rising up on her toes to reach a towel draped over the mirror hanging above her dresser, the one that no longer held any glass, Rana's shirt rose for just an instant, revealing fresh bruises on her hips. A few dotted the area just around part of the twining scar Sarevok had given her. Disgust and rage filled the void left by the incinerated softer emotions she had been struggling with.
"How much of it all was an act, sis?"
Rana started violently as Imoen dropped her cloak to the floor, one of the knives that had been laying on the dresser now held in her hand as she spun to stare wide eyed at her.
"Fucking Hells, Imoen!" Rana exclaimed, lowering her weapon. "How did you-"
Her words died in her throat as she saw the gray cloak, and Imoen watched with sick satisfaction as realization dawned in those once familiar amber eyes. When Rana fully looked at her, Imoen saw a stranger now, as a cold, calculating mask had dropped into place.
Funny. I never realized how much of Sarevok was in that look. Gods, how much have I turned a blind eye to all these years? How much damage have I let her wreak because I clung to something that died a long time ago? This isn't Rana. It's her corpse. Animated, but empty.
"Answer me."
"What was the question?"
"When did my sister cease to be the woman Gorion raised and become a smaller, and somehow more deceitful, version of Sarevok?"
"Gods you need to break up with that bard already. You've gotten so dramatic."
"Dramatic? Tell me something, back at the hot springs, when you swore there was nothing between you and Sarevok, were you already thinking about what he'd be like in bed? And, when you decided to leave for that temple, and brought only him along, how much of that was because you just wanted to be alone together?"
"No, I hadn't given any thought to him as a lover. Not actively anyway. And yes, being away from prying eyes and judgmental, hypocritical companions had definitely factored into that decision."
Rana's callously honest reply wasn't what she had expected. Imoen's heart raced faster. Her sister wasn't even trying to deny any of this, or blunt her words.
"What happened to you?" She whispered, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice. "Rana… why?"
"'What happened to me?' Seriously? You've been sneaking around, spying on me, and snuck in here to ambush me with your questions, and you suddenly realize I may not react well to that?"
"I wouldn't have had to sneak around if you could just be honest with me! You said you weren't planning on sleeping with our brother! After you reassured me multiple times that there was nothing there between you two! Where were you before you came in here, Rana? Huh? Or you gonna try and lie some more?!"
"No more lies, Imoen. If you want the truth that badly, and are willing to eavesdrop and dig around in my room to get it, then I won't make you degrade yourself even further. I was with Sarevok. Would you like details?"
"Degrade myself?! You just owned up to sleeping with Sarevok and you wanna talk about degradation?! Wow, you are a piece of work."
"Feel better now? Has the truth set you free? Or is that only supposed to happen for the one confessing the truth? I don't feel much of anything, though. A little tired and sore, maybe. Definitely not free. In case you've forgotten, we have bigger things to worry about than who I sleep with."
Imoen clenched her fists, and she had to stamp down the rage induced surge of magic rising within her. Rana still held that knife. Once, she would have never given that a single consideration.
"No, Rana, I haven't forgotten anything. So, these 'bigger things to worry about', are you talking about ascension? Has Sarevok finally convinced you to become a goddess so he can leech off your power?"
"Becoming a goddess has never been my end goal, you know that. I may have briefly flirted with the idea, but no. And Sarevok has put aside that desire. At least for the time being. I don't expect I've heard the last of it, but I'll burn that bridge when I come to it."
"He really has completely hoodwinked you, hasn't he? Gods you were always so bad at picking men. I wonder how you plan on breaking up the inevitable fight between Bad Choice Number One, Kivan, and Even Worse Choice Number Two, Sarevok."
She watched as Rana's expression hardened, and the grip she held on her dagger tightened briefly.
"Why did you write to him, Imoen? And when?"
"I sent him a letter the morning after you came back from the hot springs. You were in bad shape, we needed the help, and I knew your pride would keep you from reaching out to him. I also noticed the way you and Sarevok were looking at each other the night y'all showed up at the inn. When I hugged you, overcome with relief and happiness that my sister hadn't died, you reeked of him. I'm human, and I was tipsy, and I could still smell him on you."
"So you were hoping I'd forget about him and want to try and reconnect with Kivan, is that it? You of all people should know that the way it ended between us meant there would be no second chances."
"And you of all people know exactly what Sarevok did to you and why sitting back and just wringing my hands over the possibility of you playing mouse to his cat is a terrible and potentially catastrophically bad idea, Rana!"
"I'm fast approaching my threshold of tolerance for this bullshit, Imoen. You're going to just have to get over it. We both know you'll whine, make passive aggressive remarks, and sulk until you get distracted and forget all about why you were even upset in the first place. In the meantime, we have work to do. Or do you plan on drawing this out?"
"And if I do? What're you gonna do about it? What if I decide to tell the others? You won't be able to just sweep this under the rug then, huh? No, they'll force you to choose. Either Sarevok goes, or they do. Not all of them, I know you have Valygar wrapped so tightly around your finger that you could probably have Lavok resurrected and crowned as king of Amn or something and he'd still stay stuck to your side. And Keldorn probably thinks that taking Sarevok as your paramore will aid in his rehabilitation into the 'not-quite-so-evil-anymore' club. Viconia likely thinks this whole thing is hilarious, if she cares enough to have an opinion at all. But the others? Whatcha gonna do if they get even half as outraged as I am and rightfully leave your ass?"
"Don't concern yourself with what I'll do, little sister. I have contingency plans. And if blackmail is the route you wanna take here, let me remind you that Jaheira would probably find it very interesting to know who cut her husband to ribbons."
Imoen felt as if Rana had just sunk that dagger into her belly and twisted it. Of all the things that haunted her, Khalid's death was one that hung the heaviest. Which Rana well knew.
"Wow… you're really going to go there aren't you?" She whispered, not even trying to disguise the pain.
"If you force my hand, then yes. Back off. You have every right to be unhappy about this, but you do not have the right to try and drive a bigger wedge into the middle of this group. You can hate me, you can go rant to Haer'Dalis, but at the end of the day, Imoen, if you care about ending this war, and having your life back, you'll keep your fucking mouth shut."
Rana slammed the dagger, to its hilt, into her dresser, her eyes glowing with repressed fury. All of the righteous indignation burning inside of Imoen sputtered out beneath the crashing wave of her sister's words. The thought of Jaheira finding out about what she'd done make her sick. The thought of going about her business, knowing what was going on underneath the looks between Rana and Sarevok, and what they were doing when the other's slept, was almost as bad. Almost.
"We're done here," Rana hissed, and moved past her, heading for the bathroom.
Her shoulder brushed Imoen's, and a current of what she could only call electricity seemed to jump between them, stinging and immediately amplifying the need to discharge her magic. As if she was so full of arcane power that some of it needed to be released before she went supernova.
A sudden thought, blinding in its appearance and intensity, of releasing her anger in whatever form the magic chose to take, had her raising her hands before she'd realized what she was doing.
Do it. Release the rage. Let the magic flow. END HER.
Imoen didn't know whose voice it was shouting inside her mind. It could have been her own, or Bhaal's, or another's. The words to a spell bubbled up into her throat, and she had to clamp her teeth together to prevent them from escaping. It was just like at the hot springs, with the Earthquake spell, and during the drow raid, with the Meteor Swarm. Like a dozen other times she felt this need to unleash the raw energy crackling through her veins. And like those other times, she rode it out, fighting for all she was worth, until it subsided.
She wouldn't harm her sister.
Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of being gorged with too much power, she lowered her hands. She wanted to hurt Rana. The taint wanted her to hurt Rana. But she would not give in this time. If she struck out with what was coursing through her right now, she could kill her. And she wouldn't let Rana haunt her even worse than she was doing now. She wouldn't let her goad her into becoming more like her.
"At least tell me what it was like," she whispered, jaw clenched with the strain of holding back, but needing an answer. "I wanna know what it was like to fuck the man who killed the only family we'd ever known. What it was like to be touched with the hands that slaughtered so many people. That nearly broke you. What was it like, Rana, to give yourself to our brother? To let him take his pleasure on you after everything he's done to us? What was it like?!"
Rana paused in the doorway and half-turned to look back at her. The anger and the haughtiness bled away in her pale face as her eyes dimmed and grew distant, as if searching for the answer. After a moment, she met Imoen's gaze and let the rest of her mask slip away, briefly revealing the real Rana and the emotions she'd tried to hide.
"Honestly? It felt like coming home."
Sarevok
"Hey, Sarevok, where's your better half? I need a word with her."
Sarevok turned and glowered at Valygar as the man joined him at the front door. If their relationship was going to stay a secret for now, then the ranger definitely wasn't helping.
"What?" Valygar asked before he could reply. "You share a soul and she's a better person than you."
He shook his head at the man's attempt to justify his words, but let it go.
"In her room, bathing I believe."
"Hmm guess I'll wait then. The mayor sent a servant down here this morning, requesting an audience with her first thing tomorrow."
"Does this mayor have a name?"
"I'm sure he does, but the servant took pains not to let it slip. I've already asked around, after we first arrived here, but all anyone will say is that he's a dwarf."
Surely not the same dwarf they'd liberated from Tor Albtraum? He'd said he'd been sent by the mayor. Had he been lying?
"I suppose we'll find out. I'm going into town to repair my armor. I haven't had the time to fix the damage Imoen did to it the night of the drow raid, and it's suffered some more wear and tear recently, too."
"I'll come with you. I need to get out of this house. The sexual tension between Kivan and Aerie is nearly as bad as it is between you and Rana. Well, that's not true. Aerie seems oblivious to his interest in her, which I'll admit is fun to watch, but I've seen enough pathetic pining from Anomen that I don't need to watch it from Kivan, too."
Sarevok didn't reply to that as he headed out the door. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment. And as long as that elf wasn't pining for Rana, he couldn't care less who his cock pointed at.
This little excursion served a second purpose, one he didn't mention to Valygar, as he didn't want this getting back to Rana before he decided to tell her what he discovered. The armory lay on the opposite end of the town from the Rookery. About a mile away. After he dropped off his armor, he intended to continue moving away from her. He wanted to see if Keldorn's theory about them not being able to wander too far away from each other was true.
He did not allow himself to wonder how he'd feel when he got his answer.
"So, can I ask how the trip to your old home went?"
"No."
Valygar chuckled and let out a dramatic sigh.
"I should have expected that. Guess I'll just pester Rana about it."
"She'll likely have even less desire to tell you than I do."
"Even though I'm the one who found the place. And I keep your secrets. I see how it is. Poor old Valygar, taken for granted and mistreated by his dearest friends."
Sarevok opened his mouth to sneer that they weren't friends, but, to his surprise, the words stuck in his throat. Irritated by this, he forced the words out, more out of sheer stubbornness now, and they came out gruffly and with far less bite than he would have liked.
"We aren't friends."
"Sure we are! We both share a common goal, we both wield weapons rather than sorcery, and we both adore our fearless leader."
"That makes us allies, not friends."
"Sarevok, you've threatened to kill me a number of times now, and never even come close to following up on it. In Sarevok-speak, that translates to mean that you're incredibly fond of me."
"Now I understand why you and Rana are so close. You've fed off each other's out-of-control imaginations to the point that you're delusional."
"And it's endearing right?"
"I think you meant to say 'annoying'."
"Hah! Well, it can't be that annoying, seeing as how you're a thing now. Which means you must also find my being annoying as tolerable. If not outright adorable."
Sarevok sighed and cast the man an irritated look, which only made his shit-eating grin widen.
"What is it you're after, ranger?"
"Oh, nothing. I've just decided that I want to hear you admit to the fact that we're friends. Because of how uncomfortable this is obviously making you."
Valygar was Rana in male form. At least in regards to her personality.
Gods help me.
"If you were under attack, I would seriously consider coming to your aid, if it did not put myself at too much undue risk. That's all you'll get out of me."
"Love you too, man."
Sarevok ground his teeth, but before he could formulate anything to wipe that smirk off the ranger's face, his attention was immediately drawn by a man approaching them from the direction of the Sawtooth Inn.
He was big, nearly as tall as he was, and bulkier. Flame red hair done in elaborate braids brushed the backs of his thighs as he walked, and gave him away as having barbarian origins.
They locked eyes from across the cobblestone street that separated them, and the barbarian's icy blue gaze narrowed, his brow furrowed in confusion, as if Sarevok should be familiar to him.
Their stare broke only when the man walked past them. Glancing back over his shoulder, Sarevok watched him head in the direction of the Rookery. Perhaps it was merely coincidence, as the house was on the outskirts of town, and he could simply be leaving, but knowing what the man was, he would take no chances.
"Big bastard," Valygar mumbled, looking back as well, and reluctantly relaxing his hand away from his katana.
"He's a Bhaalspawn."
Valygar jerked to a stop. Sarevok stopped as well and noted the way all of the ranger's teasing, playful behavior melted away as training and loyalty shifted to the fore. It was like watching a completely different man appear before him. He supposed Rana had that effect.
"I'll tail him. Are you going to alert Rana?"
He was already doing so.
Making the reach with his soul, he brushed against her, just lightly enough to get her attention. He felt her temper first, and her effort to tamp it down as she reached back. Whatever she was mad about would have to wait.
He showed her an image of the Barbarian and that he was heading in her direction.
Valygar is going to shadow him and I'll follow at a distance to make sure there are no others with him. Inform the rest and have them ready if he shows up.
He missed Rana's reply as the man turned off another street, heading in a different direction.
"Stay on him," he told Valygar. "Seeing me may have spooked him enough to go to ground for a time, but if he's sensed or heard of Rana, I don't want him unsupervised until he can be dealt with."
"But you're not a Bhaalspawn anymore, why would you have spooked him? No offense."
"He's stronger than the riff raff we encountered back in Saradush. Not like Rana or Yaga-Shura, but still powerful. He sensed something in me, I could see it in his eyes. Perhaps it's the shadow of Rana's tainted soul."
"I guess that makes sense. And it's not like you guys track each other down for a reunion over tea. Tell Rana to stay alert, I'll keep an eye on him. Are you still going to go see the blacksmith?"
"Yes," he paused as Rana relayed a message for Valygar. "Kivan will be joining you."
"Yay. All right, see you back at the house later."
He watched the ranger leave, and sighed in resignation before calling after him. Rana wished for him to tell Valygar one last thing.
"Watch your back!"
"Will do, you old softie!"
*
"Damn, this bhaalspawn business sure is bringing you big brawny types out in spades. You another mercenary, huh?"
The blacksmith was barely through with puberty and only just beginning to build the kind of muscle that comes with working steel.
"Did another man my size come through here recently?" He asked the kid, ignoring his question.
"Aye, earlier today. Red hair, carried two battle-axes, but I didn't recognize their style."
"Where's the master blacksmith?"
"Yer lookin' at him. Milord got killed by them drow when they raided the town. I was his apprentice, and what with all you mercenaries coming through here, I wasn't about to let the forge fires die out and lose out on all your coin. Er… I mean your business."
"I see," Sarevok sighed, annoyed at the thought of handing his plate over to this child, but having little choice. "How long till you can finish repairing this?"
The gawky kid took the armor from him and looked over it with a keen sweep of his brown eyes, showing a bit more intelligence than Sarevok previously assumed he possessed.
"As I'm sure you know, I'm pretty backed up right now. Could take a week or two to get to this."
He figured as much.
Tossing a bag of coins onto a side table, he watched him rifle through it, glancing up at him with an eager, impressed look as he gauged the small fortune that had just been slapped down before him.
"How's tomorrow evening?"
"Fine. Now, tell me about the red haired man."
"Not much to say. He didn't need nothing forged or fixed, just asked some questions."
"What sorts of questions?"
The blacksmith finally seemed to grasp that Sarevok's generous bribe was for more than just jumping up to the front of his work list. Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, he glanced back down at the gold, lightly tweaking the cloth pouch, as if seeking reassurance from its contents.
"Well, he's looking for his girlfriend. I remembered her, tall and gorgeous, but I didn't say that of course, I like me head where it's at. She came by here a week or so ago, wanting a sword worked on I think. She was a right bitch about it, but my master got to deal with her, I just sat back and enjoyed the view. She's missing. Guards had come by not long after that, just before the raid, asking questions. I ain't seen here since that day. He's trying to find her."
"I see. I'll be back tomorrow evening. I expect it to be ready," he said, nodding at his armor before fixing the boy with a cold stare.
"Of course, milord! I'll have it ready!"
Swearing under his breath as he left, Sarevok looked out toward the rolling hills and forest that lay before him, trying to decide if it was wise to leave town, however briefly, now that he knew why the Barbarian was here.
Rana… he called to her. That bhaalspawn female you killed was the Barbarian's mate.
Huh?
That woman you tracked down and killed just before you tried to take on those mercenaries to get that damned bow. He's looking for her.
I can barely hear you, where are you?
He paused, noting that her voice in his head sounded muted as well. He had all but given up on his little distance experiment today, not wanting to be too far away in case that barbarian caused trouble, but now he needed to know.
I'll be back soon. Stay inside with the others, he commanded, practically shouting at her to get it across.
What are you doing? Why do you sound so far away?
He didn't reply as he headed out of town. The sooner he found his answer, the sooner he could return, and he was set on finding out what would happen as the distance grew between them.
As the bustle of Tor Niedrig faded at his back, and the sounds of insects and bird calls took over, he mulled over what he had learned, and deduced, about the Barbarian. He wondered if the man had told the blacksmith the truth, that the woman had been his girlfriend. If it were true, it would mean he and Rana weren't the only bhaalspawn to pair up.
It made sense. They all shared something that others couldn't possibly understand. Likely, many weren't aware of the possibility of ascending to their father's throne, and merely sought out another like them to avoid the judgements and fear that went hand-in-hand with being a bhaalspawn. Or, they had known each other before ever finding out who their father was, and that knowledge was too little too late.
In a way, that's how it had been for him and Rana. When they were children, they'd often overheard their father being spoken of. Father singular. But the constant threats of abuse and starvation meant they never really cared enough about what the clergy, or Jorval, had said regarding anything other than food. They knew they were related, but it wasn't something that mattered in any way. He had cared about her, but because he was a child, he never paused to consider the way in which he cared or why.
He never could explain why she was the one he chose to protect. Why he had been drawn to her from the very beginning.
Not until she brought him back from the dead, that is. Not until he spent months travelling with her, fighting beside her, seeing the sides of her that he never could have glimpsed back at Baldur's Gate. To see the inner workings of his former rival. The way she interacted with her companions, her sense of humor, those fleeting moments of vulnerability that forced him to recognize that she was a woman and not just a bhaalspawn.
There was a subtle kind of magnetism to her. He wasn't the only one who felt an unexplainable drive to protect her. Before he'd even realized that hating her was something he suddenly had to work at, he had begun to covet her.
The Barbarian was out to avenge his mate. Which meant he couldn't be allowed to live.
Reaching the treeline, he reached for Rana.
And felt nothing.
He was alone. No trace of her in his head, no gentle tug on his soul to indicate what direction he should go to find her. No fleeting blurs of her thoughts and moods.
There were no side effects. He felt no drain on his strength, no siphoning of his life force, or anything of the sort to indicate that the distance between them had any effect other than no longer feeling the other.
After a moment, he found himself breathing a sigh of… relief? He hadn't given this much thought prior to today, mainly because he was too distracted for the full weight of the implications of not being able to leave her to hit him. Now, though, knowing he could walk away and suffer nothing for it, he felt more in control again.
He had no desire to leave her side just yet, but knowing hecouldeased some of the fear, along with the knot of anger that had slowly been tightening around him these past few weeks. He and Rana were so intimately bound that this knowledge returned some of his autonomy. She wasn't his master, and the shackles he had willingly donned could be removed whenever he wanted.
He hadn't realized how much resentment had been building since his return. She'd given part of her soul to resurrect him. He owed her more than he could possibly repay, but he wasn't permanently bound to spending the rest of his days carrying out her will.
"Sarevok…"
A voice behind him had him spinning around, drawing his sword from across his back before completing the turn, even as his mind rebelled at the familiar timbre of his name spoken from a man who was long dead.
Standing several yards away, one hand half raised as if he'd been reaching for him, stood Winski Perorate.
Disheveled black robes hung from the old man's almost cadaverous frame, sweat stained and dusty from travelling. His eyes, dark blue against yellowed white, were reddened with emotion.
"How…?" Sarevok breathed in disbelief, too stunned to finish the question.
"How am I alive? Excellent question. I would love to answer, but I'm a bit winded from trying to catch up to you. After all these years. And just now. I see you've still yet to master the art of 'trudging'. Or 'strolling'."
Winski put his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths, sweat dripping from his brow as he leaned down, trying to catch his breath.
"Answer me, Winski," Sarevok said after a moment, adjusting his grip on his sword as he kept it partially raised, still reeling from this encounter.
"Young one, I was old when I first saw you, and time marches on, as they say, so I'm even older now, unlike you. And some of us have old injuries to further slow us down."
"Do you mean to tell me that you survived and followed me all the way here to demand an apology for striking you down? Or perhaps to make me feel remorse? You of all people should know better."
"Indeed," he replied with a sad smile. "But no, that's not why I'm here. Though, an apology would be nice."
Clutching his side, Winski weakly straightened up, his eyes roaming over Sarevok before coming to land on his raised sword.
"I always knew how I would end, you know. I accepted my fate just as I fought against your own. I know you don't care, but I hold no anger over what happened. I was ready to die for you, to be immortalized as the man who ushered the new Lord of Murder unto his throne. Just as I was prepared to die by your hand when all of that came crashing down around us. I would do it again, you know. All of it. Even disobeying you and whisking you away from the Ducal palace if I thought I could buy you some more time before facing Ilyrana. You were, and always will be, my greatest pride. And my greatest folly."
"Keep your sentimental drivel," Sarevok replied gruffly, forcing the words out even as they threatened to stick in his throat. "How did you survive and why are you here now?"
"I was healed. After speaking to Ilyrana, she and her companions left me to die, though I had thought she would live up to her reputation and put an old dog out of his misery. A few moments later, a former associate, whom I will get to in a moment, appeared and patched me up. Helped me get out of Baldur's Gate with my head still intact. There is much to say, and I'd rather be sitting down for the length of it. Can we return to town? It's hot."
"It's autumn and it's cold, not even a brisk walk should reduce you to this."
"Do I need to repeat myself about being old? I see you're still bad at listening. I'd thump you over the head like I used to do, but you're standing too far away and I'd like to not go through your sword again. Please, Sarevok, if not for any affection you once felt for me, or for the guidance and training I provided you, then for your sister's sake."
"What does this have to do with her? Tell me now and if I'm satisfied with your answer we can return to town, if not I'll run you through and make sure you can't come back this time. Play me false, old man, and I'll make sure you suffer just long enough to explain yourself anyway."
"I did my job too well with you. Fine, I'll give you a taste of the information I have to impart," Winski sighed, absently massaging the area where Sarevok had struck him years ago. "The woman that led all those bhaalspawn to Saradush, under the pretense of offering them refuge, Melissan she calls herself? Well, she's a Deathstalker turned rogue and she's trying to maneuver Ilyrana into killing the remainder of the Five and preferably dying in the process. Oh, and she's the one who pointed Irenicus in your direction, and ultimately Ilyrana's as well. Interested, yet?"
Rana
"I added some Fire Flower extract to this batch, since you said you didn't like the cold feeling from peppermint oil."
Rana could only groan in reply as Aerie kneaded the knots out her back, working her newest salve into her skin, the heat making her eyelids drop closed.
"Nice, isn't it? When Minsc has gotten himself over-excited about something, a few drops of this stuff applied to his shoulders and he's out like a light."
"How's that going, by the way? Did you two ever go to Rasheman?"
"We did! Oh, Rana, it was wonderful, I wish you could have been with us. I've been trying to convince Uncle Quayle to come along the next time we go back there, but I'm afraid he's grown rather fond of Athkatla, I can't seem to uproot him."
"Mmmm…" Rana mumbled, sinking further into her bed as the avariel continued her ministrations.
"So, do you wanna tell me why that wild elf gets your hackles up?"
Pressing her face into her pillow to hide her knowing smirk, Rana waited a moment to get her voice under control so she wouldn't tip her friend off to how obvious her curiosity was.
"We briefly dated once."
"Oh. I see. It must be awkward then, having him here. Or do you think you might give it another shot?"
"Hells no," Rana snorted before she could catch herself. "We're just not compatible. He's… a great guy, in a rugged, broody, antisocial kind of way. I noticed he seemed pretty smitten by you."
"Me?! Hah, you always were a joker."
"I'm being serious. You're beautiful, sweet, and pure, and all that other wonderful stuff that sounds cheesy when you try to put it into words. You should go out with him."
"Why? Wouldn't it… wouldn't it be weird? Since he was yours first?"
"He was never mine, Aerie. He was still mourning his wife when I came along. Bad timing definitely had something to do with us not working out. Now, I'm far from interested, and so is he. You should give it a shot."
Aerie went quiet, still massaging her lower back, her long blonde hair tickling her ribs as she leaned over her.
"Is that how Haer'Dalis and Imoen got together? You playing matchmaker?" The avariel asked after a while.
"I encouraged it, but even that was kind of unnecessary. Just between you and me, though, it won't last."
"Why do you say that?"
Rana considered how much to share with Aerie. Having once been on the receiving end of Haer'Dalis's attentions, the young woman could provide Rana with insight into what all could be going on in the Bard's head. On the other hand, she didn't want to voice her Cyric-induced suspicions just yet. Not until she had more to go on.
"Well, has he ever struck you as the type that would cleave to just one woman?"
"No… not exactly. His flirtiness is definitely one of the factors that led to me breaking things off with him before it got serious. But… just because a man hasn't settled down yet, doesn't mean he can't. Sometimes the right person comes along and brings out something inside you that was never there before."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Of course not. But I see no reason he can't change. They're… cute together."
"Jealous?"
"No, I'm not. I care for our dear sparrow, but he's a bit too much for me. Imoen suits him."
"For now," Rana mumbled, deciding to let this topic drop.
"How can you be such a romantic, always maneuvering people you think might be compatible, but also be such a cynic?" Aerie huffed, bending over Rana's back to study her face.
"Because I'm still a girl at heart, and I'm also a realist. Couples don't stay together. Something always tears people apart. Yet every single one of us thinks we'll somehow be the exception to the rule. We allow ourselves to be drawn to the promise of love despite knowing we'll get swallowed by the flame."
"That's not true. Some couples make it."
"Oh yeah? Name five."
Aerie laughed and got up to rinse the salve from her hands.
"Keldorn and Maria," she said over her shoulder.
"Maria had an affair because Keldorn was rarely home. Where is he now? That's right, far from home. I want every happiness for him, but the odds are stacked against him, just like the rest of us."
"Well, if Khalid were still alive, he and Jaheira would still be together."
"But he's not alive. Death counts, too, you know. In fact, the pain of losing a partner unexpectedly is way worse than just breaking up. Yet another reason why falling in love is such a bad idea."
"You make it sound like you can choose when love happens. Or who with. Love is a force of nature. You can't control where lightning will strike. Nor can you predict the moods of the wind or the fury of the sea. It happens, sometimes when we least expect it, and sometimes when we're fighting our hardest to prevent it. That's the beauty of it."
"Druids can summon lightning to strike where they command. Mages can bend the will of the wind in the form of elementals and they can also harness the power of water."
"And yet lightning still strikes without druids calling it down. The wind still blows even when wizards aren't casting spells. And the tide still ebbs and flows without the orders of any man or woman."
Rana huffed and sat up, donning her shirt and rolling her shoulder, briefly distracted by how languid she felt.
"So," Aerie continued, a small smile across her lips and mirrored in her almond-shaped eyes. "Who is it you're fighting so hard not to love?"
Sarevok
Without knocking, Sarevok opened the door to Rana's room and froze when he saw her and the avariel jump at his sudden appearance.
They were both elven, both had hearing that could detect his footfalls the moment he crossed the threshold of the front door. They should not have been caught unawares.
Especially when there was a bhaalspawn lurking around the town.
"Um… what's up?" Rana asked.
"I need a word. Alone."
Aerie tilted her head at him, studying him with childlike curiosity. It was the first time she'd met his eyes. After he raised an eyebrow at her scrutiny, she seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped her gaze before flitting around the room, gathering up personal effects.
"Let me know when the tingly feeling goes away, okay? I'm still experimenting with the potency of the Fire Flower."
"When should it go away?" Rana asked her. "Please say never."
"About an hour. The salve is meant to soothe the muscles, especially overused and damaged ones, as well as promote sleep. Any longer than that and you'll grow accustomed to the feel of it and it won't really work anymore as a sleep aid."
Aerie left the room, cringing away from as she passed by. Locking the door behind him, he turned back to Rana and saw the shift as it happened. Where once was a sleepy, relaxed woman, now sat a terrifyingly angry one, her posture rigid in her fury.
"You just had to know, didn't you?" She hissed, rising from her bed and walking to her dresser, and the half-empty bottle of wine atop it. "Does it frighten you so much? The idea of being stuck with me?"
"What did you feel?"
"Nothing! I felt nothing. Were you concerned at all that you suddenly couldn't sense me anymore? Did you spare a single thought to the bhaalspawn you had warned me of just an hour before leaving? Did it cross your mind that I could have been fighting for my life while we were cut off from each other?"
"Valygar and Kivan are currently tailing him, and you have most of your companions here in the house with you. I was out of range for less than an hour, Rana. I know how capable you are, so I did not think you required my constant protection, but perhaps I was wrong."
"I don't need your protection!" She snapped, rounding on him after taking a generous swallow of wine. "Damnit, it's not my fault that I've come to rely so much on having backup inside my head, okay?! You were the one who insisted on taking half my soul, I'm sorry I got used to having a buffer between me and everything lurking around up here!"
He had anticipated some kind of reaction upon his return. Once he and Winksi had begun walking back to town, and he gradually began to feel her once more, he had reached for her. And been shut out behind a wall of rage just seconds after he felt her relief. And hurt.
What he hadn't considered was the role he inadvertently played in keeping the darkness at bay. And that by removing himself from her, he not only left her with one less protector, he left her with one less internal shield against the madness roiling inside her mind.
"Did Cyric, Bhaal, or the Slayer, or anything else try anything?"
She turned away, the bottle dangling from her fingers as she crossed her arms across her stomach.
"No, but…" she trailed off, taking another drink. "Forget about it. We can separate with no ill effects. So now we know. We would have had to find out eventually. Next time, say something beforehand."
He walked up behind her, took the bottle from her, drained the rest of it, and set it on the dresser.
"Finish what you were going to say."
She just stubbornly shook her head, her back still to him.
"You never thought you'd come to like having me inside your head, is that it?" He mused aloud. "You've spent years shoring up walls between you and the others, ever since you found out what you were. But it's lonely, being among them yet so far away. You hated having to create this bond with me, even as it helped ease that loneliness."
She didn't answer, only tightened her arms around herself. Resting his hands on her hips, he brushed the top of her head with his lips, inhaling the scent of her along with some other strange, though not unpleasant, smell. Something from the avariel, he assumed.
"My presence means you're not alone in the fight that the others can't help you with. The one you fight every minute of every day. The one inside your mind. Against the taint."
"If you want to leave, I won't stop you," she whispered. "Today. Tomorrow. When this is over. Or years from now. I may have grown used to this connection, but I'm not dependant on it. On you."
"A part of me is pleased to hear you say this. Another part of me wants you dependant on me. Rana, since we were children we have been tied together. It is… reassuring to know that we can choose this. If you are with me, I would have it be because you wish it, not because you have to be."
"I know. And I'm glad that we have this information. It just startled me when you disappeared."
"And it scares you how badly you missed me."
Rana burst out laughing and finally turned around to look up at him.
"Actually, I was just telling Aerie that I think I'm becoming rather smitten with Valygar. So… how long were you gone exactly? I'm afraid I barely noticed."
"You little shit," he growled. "I have to keep reminding him that this is a secret, so you tell that girl that you're interested inhim?"
"Girl talk. She guessed that I had my sights on someone, and Valygar seemed the safest bet. Anomen already thinks it, too. Plus I think it's funny."
And knowing Valygar, he'd probably find this uproarious, too.
"Imoen knows, though," Ran added, the humor winking out just as quickly as it had appeared. "I had to blackmail her about Khalid to ensure her silence, but… I'm beginning to doubt the point of it when she was the one I was most worried about finding out."
"Then let's drop the deception and let the chips fall where they may."
"Not yet. Now that we have another bhaalspawn to contend with, and we're about to lay siege to Sendai. I… I know Imoen. She can't hold a grudge. Not against me. She'll get over it."
He could hear the doubt in her voice, though he said nothing to reassure her. Because he doubted as well.
"And I'm afraid there's more now," he sighed.
"More what?"
He took a step back from her, knowing he was about to bring all that anger right back.
"While I was outside of town, I was approached by someone. My old mentor. Winksi."
He watched her eyes widen in disbelief.
"I thought… I assumed he was dead! What does he want? I swear to the gods if you spent your time away being fed more lies about godhood by the same man that fed them to you before, I'm going to kick your ass. And his. Everyone's ass is getting kicked."
"Rana, Melissan isn't trying to save the bhaalspawn. She's trying to hasten our demise. She was charged, by Bhaal himself, to spearhead his resurrection. But somewhere along the way she abandoned that duty. Rana... she's now a devoted servant… of Cyric."