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Interlude – Gaining ground
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"You are unwell." The words came out in a growl.
Not well in the head, he meant. Raesa shifted, rolled her shoulders, wondered if he was right, then dropped into a crouch to retrieve her bracer. "Your concern for my well being is touching."
When she straightened, a sharp spike of pain ran down her spine. Her back to him, Raesa bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. By Mask's hanging sack! Far from well, he had the right of it there, but one did not show weakness with a rabid devil in tow. A devil that stood not a foot away, ready to sniff out pain and blood.
Turning back, Raesa forced herself to grin wide – she'd offer no weakness.
Sarevok's hands clenched into fists, knuckles on his long fingers turning white; wishing he could wrap them around her throat and squeeze, no doubt. The feeling was entirely mutual.
"Touching indeed," he said, ice in his voice. It seeped into her bones. "Do not be deliberately obtuse, fool. My continued existence depends on you… for the moment." The words lingered, soaked the air between them. "You know that well enough. I will not enter that room with you trailing half-dead behind me."
Half-dead – one way of putting it. Though half-alive had a better ring to it. And they had yet to see, who'd trail in behind whom.
Skin touched skin, suddenly – Sarevok's bruising fingers on her wrist. Raesa's stomach dropped, and, behind her eyelids, a black, swirling mist took shape. Fear. Yanking her hand away, Raesa snatched the left bracer from the ground and sheathed a dagger on her hip.
"No one asked you to," she said.
His eyes radiated contempt. "Were you born this daft, or is this the consequence of one to many blows to the head?" Disappointment, almost, in his tone.
Daft indeed – the lingering fever must be running higher than she thought. Raesa shook her head, blinked once, twice – her vision sharpened then blurred again. Only a fool would have said that; a fool or a child. Two warriors facing an unknown foe stood a better chance than one alone. Basic facts of the Life.
A hand rose up in a warding gesture before Sarevok could speak again. "Pretend I didn't say that." As if he would.
And as if she could trust him to watch her back. Raesa rarely had to worry before, if an ally would slit her throat, after the battle was done. Not even Korgan – if the gold tickled his fancy enough. She'd always made sure it did. But Sarevok… she had no currency to offer him, and what he wanted from her, he'd taken already.
In her mind's eye, the swirling mist took form – that of a raven with bright yellow eyes. Raesa blinked and shook her head. Blasted fever. If only he'd give her the remaining healing potions. There were none left, he'd said – lying through his teeth.
A tense silence followed. Sarevok turned half away and sat on a stone bench next to the fire. The embers still glowed a soft red. Raesa's eyebrows rose. When had that bench appeared?
"Drive yourself into an early grave, woman, if you are bent on it," he shifted on the stone, "but do not think to take me with you." Sarevok fed a piece of dried wood to the dying flames – his shadow lengthened and crept up, across the stone, to mingle with hers. "Use your head. What does a day more matter?"
One more day with him? When the shadow-formed-dark slid beneath her bare feet, Raesa shivered and took a fast step back. There are twenty and four hours in a day. Her throat dried, and the mist formed raven flapped its wings. Just the fever.
"So reluctant to part with me, Sarevok?" she asked instead. The jibe sounded forced, even to her ears. "I had no idea you valued my company so."
One more night, with him a step away? And her too weak to fight him? She'd rather take her chances with whatever awaited behind those doors. Come on, you ghost. Take the bait -- give me those potions and have done with it. Sweat dampened her brow, even as she shivered from the cold.
Sarevok leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "That humor of yours could earn you a messy death one of these days, sister."
Sister! Temper flared, and Raesa grasped the heat of it with both hands, grateful for the distraction. "As could your name calling, Sarevok." If Bhaal's offsprings would claim family ties, a thousand of such 'bothers' and 'sisters' would walk the land. And she'd rather call any one of them family, instead of him.
A smirk stretched his lips. "It bothers you, doesn't it?" Sarevok rose and took a step towards her – a hound on a trail. He'd sniffed out blood. "To know that we share a bond. To be that close to me." He stopped, an inch away – a deep breath, and they would be touching.
"Close?" Raesa stood her ground, putting the chill out of her mind. "Is that what you call this?" A dull pulse throbbed in her temple. "You killed the only father I've ever known. That makes us close?" She gave him a shallow nod. "Have it your way. Sending assassins after me, then. Framing me for murder?" Her hand rose and reached out towards him. "That would be closer."
Sarevok kept his eyes on her, muscles coiled. Afraid? She could only hope. "When you tried to cut me down in the Undercity? Closer, still." The words lingered. "Your blood on my hands. Closest."
Fingers, lacking bloodstains now, touched his shirt, just bellow the ribs, on the right – he had a long, jagged scar there. One she'd carved into the skin. She traced its outline. "You'd call this family?" Sarevok frowned, twitching back. "I pity you, then." A crooked smile curved her lips, before he pushed her away.
Off balance – so, the devil had a dent in his armor – Raesa pressed on, out for her own taste of blood. "The taint." His expression changed – storm clouds gathered. "It left you, didn't it?" A stab in the dark, but as the words rang out she knew it to be true. "It tucked tail and ran back to Bhaal." Fulfilled its purpose. "Left you alone in the Abyss."
"Enough!" Sarevok pushed back, took a deep breath and straightened. "You walk a dangerous line, woman." A threat crept into his voice. "Careful, lest you do not live to regret crossing it."
Her back pulsed; pain seeped back into her bones. "Two can play at the bating game, Sarevok." Raesa kept the tiredness at bay, hanging on with the tips of her fingers. "Best you remember that."
After a long, tense pause, Sarevok set his mouth in a firm line and nodded "You want all cards placed on the table, then?"
Never show your hand, young warrior. The remembered line rang out, in that oh, too familiar voice, before Raesa could drown the memory. Make them show you theirs, instead. If the bait is enticing enough, nine times out of ten, they will take it. Men are ever fools.
Advice to take to heart. The gods knew she'd watched Yoshimo dangle that proverbial bait often enough, grew to depend on him for it. Before it became her turn to play the fool.
Nine times out of ten, indeed.
Raesa nodded back and lowered herself to the floor, fingers drawn to the warmth of the fire. "It would be best to dispense with the pretences, yes." Her muscles protested when she leaned forward – her teeth clenched in turn.
"Pretences?" Sarevok said. "Very well." The palms of his hands rested on the stone bench. "You cannot lift a sword right now, let alone wield it."
Raesa closed her eyes and leaned back, against the wall. "Not yet, no." The confession cost her nothing – the truth was obvious enough. As much as it pained her to face it.
"This farce was about forcing my hand, then." Not a question. "Dragging me into a position where I would have no choice but to give you the healing potions." Sarevok leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, now. "That, or face a battle with no one to watch my back."
The timber of his voice seeped under her skin – the soothing dark behind her eyelids turned oppressing. Her eyes snapped open. "Would it have worked?"
"Does it matter?" Sarevok's shoulders moved in a dismissive gesture. "There are no potions. None. If there were, I would have forced them down your throat hours ago." His eyes fixed on hers. "I am as eager to be rid of you, as you are of me." A pause. "Believe that if you believe nothing else."
A lie. Raesa could feel it in her bones. He was buying time. For what?
The warmth of the fire made her drowsy. My turn. "The taint left you." That wasn't a question either.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "There is no point in denying it." Oh, but he wanted to. Anger flickered behind his eyes, only to be replaced by something else. "But a piece of your soul now fills its place." A twinge of amusement. "A fitting replacement, don't you think?"
She didn't. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. Gorion had to be turning in his grave.
"I find it flattering, that you used to fear me so."
The words made Raesa's head snap up, every muscle in her body tense.
Sarevok watched her, through half-lidded eyes. "That you used to wake, drenched in cold sweat, and peer at the shadows in fear of finding me there."
Echoes of another time, that seemed a lifetime ago, now, rang out in her mind. Raesa swallowed. A bluff. It had to be.
"You saw me as a demon, in those dreams, rather than a man. A beast from the depths of the Abyss." Such satisfaction in his tone. "And I killed you every time."
Tore me to pieces. Her throat dried, her blood ran cold. Bane's balls! He'd seen her memories. The thought made her heart skip a beat. "In dreams only," she said. What else had he seen? "In the waking world, I killed you." How much had he stolen from her? "Never forget that."
"How could I?" His shadow fell on her, covered her in a shroud. "Ask, then, what else I have learned about you."
Raesa forced herself to sit still. "I doubt you'd tell me." Her stomach dropped. "And give up the advantage."
Sarevok's lips stretched into a smile. "I can almost hear you, woman." The shadow withdrew when he rose from the bench and stepped to her right. "The questions, the uncertainty. How much has he seen? Or how little?" A slow, precise nod. "I'll let you stew on that for a while, before we continue this discussion."
Oh, how she yearned to beat the answers out of him. Nausea welled up in the pit of her stomach. " I grow weary of words."
"Sleep, then." Sarevok threw a blanket at her. "Regain your strength. Then we will se if we can bandy more than words."
Irritation welled up. How long did he think she could sleep? Days? A week? Without herbs or a healer to aid her, that's how long it would take for the wound to heal on its own. Raesa opened her mouth to speak…
A day. She remembered – what does a day more matter, he'd said. Her back touched the wall again, and she pulled the blanket up, over her shoulder.
Tomorrow, then. Sarevok intended to set foot in that room tomorrow. That meant he would give her the potions then. He wouldn't risk her slowing him down. But why tomorrow?
He was biding his time, waiting for something – Raesa knew not what.
But she would be ready for it.
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Author's note:
Next up will be a longer chapter made up out of two POV's: Sarevok's and Edwin's. Reviews are always welcome -- and they make a writer's day. :)