Author's Note: Well hey, look at that, I'm alive. Yes, I know, it's been two months since the last update. Not exactly what I had in mind either. On the plus side, I'm now a full time manager at the Frito-Lay plant in Vancouver, so take comfort in knowing that for every day I don't write more of the story, I'm helping make delicious chips. (Buy Frito-Lay). Ok, enough shameless plugs. We are just about through Part 1- if you're still with me, thanks so much and hey, drop a review if you're feeling generous!
"I know what you're thinking. You're brooding again. It's pretty easy to spot."
Anomen tried to ignore Solaufein's comments as the pair covered the party's flank in the hike leading back across country, leaving behind the swamps and forests of the druid grove, moving from plains and grassland to hill country that signaled the border of the coast-line. Once they had reached the beach itself, they could follow the path straight south until they came across the fortress they sought. Still, gazing into the sun-lit plains only made it that much more obvious that Anomen's thoughts were turned inward. After all, having seen three or four hours of grass and wheat fields, it was scarcely exciting to examine another forty acres of the grain.
"Yes... definitely brooding. I remember from our brief tenure in the Order together... his nose was downward so often that the other knights used to joke about him crashing into the statues in the Order Hall. As I recall, it was not simply a joke after a time... once you barreled straight into the marble image of Torm-"
"That will be quite enough, Reynald." Anomen sighed, trying to keep his companions at bay as they moved to each side of him. "I am not brooding, simply thinking. There is a keen difference-"
"And you are most certainly engaging in the former." Solaufein cut in quietly, his features hid 'neath the hood that shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight, but a hint of a smile could be made out underneath the shadows. "By Eilistraee, you're so downcast that it's depressing to even me."
Anomen glared as harshly as he could muster, hoping it would be enough to dispel their curiosity, or attempts at jest. It did neither, as the pair stayed by either side of him. At least Nalia had not been too interested in the so-called conversation that was taking place, although her serious nature made such banter unlikely to begin with. She was far at the lead of their group, keeping watch for any danger that might approach while the others hung back, some to watch the flank, some to be anti-social... and some to brood, although he would never admit it.
He took a sharp breath, doing his utmost to raise his head, look straight forward and ignore the both of them. It didn't work. "Ah, but I think I have it now. You're still upset over the outcome of our visit with the druid. Do not be so dispirited by his refusal to join us, for it is a small thing in the long run, methinks." Reynald rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking to Solaufein for agreement. Before he could say any more, Anomen cleared his throat quite loudly, speaking as succinctly and even-toned as possible.
"I need no consolation, if that is your intent, though from the childish grins you both sport, I very much doubt that is the case. I am simply thinking of our next course. Cernd's refusal to join our cause is not such 'a little thing', Reynald, and I should think you would realize it. Nalia is our only magic user, and while I might be able to call upon Helm's power for aid, we should be much better prepared if there were two spellcasters at our side."
Inwardly, Solaufein agreed- if not simply through the tactical sense that it made, then for his lack of trust in Nalia. But to ease both Reynald's spirits and to keep Nalia from suspicion of his own wariness he had chosen to relax his demeanor, to show no sign of anything but camaraderie and acceptance, such as it was for him. Still, it would've been nice to have the druid backing them up... and it was always fun watching Anomen get so worked up... though much like Anomen's brooding, he would never admit it.
"Ah, but surely worry for our safety is not simply the only thing that lowers your countenance." Reynald argued, his tone slowly taking a more serious bent as he gestured toward the others among them, his blue eyes meeting Anomen's as best he could despite the squire's refusal to look anywhere but straight ahead. "Though I would be the last to boast of my own prowess, surely all four among us have amassed more than enough experience in battle to handle whatever beasts or spirits this Keep throws at us. Speak plainly, friend, and let us be done with the prying. What troubles you, and how may we help?"
The former knight's tone no longer held any hint of jest or teasing, and Anomen was fairly certain that he was genuinely interested in seeing what was bothering him. His bluster about them being able to take on anything that Watcher's Keep held was nothing more than a show for Nalia's sake- oh yes, he saw how smitten the man was with her Ladyship- but it was a kind gesture regardless. He wasn't completely sure how to explain, however. He had, despite all of his boasts not a few months prior, never led men into battle. He had taken part in many fights among soldiers of the Order, and had fought under the command of the Bhaalspawn for a few weeks as well. But he had never led a group... and if he was being honest with himself, he wondered how Keldorn had done it so effortlessly, so commandingly.
"I am not him..." Anomen sighed quietly, but not enough to lose the keen hearing of his two warrior companions. He knew it too and immediately followed up, deflecting their certain questions. "Keldorn, I mean. He was the quintessential leader, a man who commanded loyalty, respect, a drive in his followers that would see them march with him into the depths of the Abyss itself if need be. In my younger, foolish years I thought myself up to the challenge of doing the same, if not better than he."
"And you think that Cernd's dismissal of your request for assistance a clear sign that you will never reach the state of your mentor?" Solaufein snorted with disbelief. "Perhaps you have lost too much of your old swagger if you are so easily discouraged. Have some backbone. You cannot expect every man, woman, and child you encounter to drop everything and join your cause."
"I did not expect that, Solaufein, and it is not truly what concerns me now. It is the responsibility of this fight we head towards... the knowledge that you have entrusted yourselves to my judgment, to my cause. We got to fight what is, arguably, the most important battle of my life. But it is just that... my battle, mine alone. The Order gave me leave to request aid from others, and I have done so... but still, I cannot help but wonder. What kind of power lurks within this Keep, such that the Prelate would place such priority upon sealing it?"
Striding through the fields of wheat, keeping watch for enemies or any other passers-by that would seek to accost them or do them harm, Nalia listened to her three traveling companions, and smiled. The power of the Watcher's Keep... yes, that was what she was waiting to hear. Not that she needed confirmation- her own independent research into the origins and legends surrounding the dungeon were enough to make her believe in the promises of power that dwelt within. Power beyond anything that she had grasped before. Power enough to not only withstand the attempts of the wicked to harm her Keep or her people, but power enough to withstand the reaches and probing of the Twisted Rune and then, eventually, take the fight to them.
She inhaled deeply, her whole body tingling with the thought. It was not lightly that she had made this decision to come with the others- she had not lied when she said that her Keep's needs outweighed any desire she might've had to help her friends, as close as they were. And the other nobles of Athkatla kept a close eye on the De'Arnise lands, especially considering its troubled history thus far- none of them would be particularly sad to see her go, if only because it would free up a small fiefdom to claim for themselves. Her powers of magic in the past were feeble, simple parlor tricks and cantrips that she thought would help legitimize her claims to power and give her followers something to focus upon, a strong leader who could protect them from the ravages of Firkraag, the Roenalls, or anyone else who threatened them.
And yet... it was not enough. Never enough. Too many times in the past, she'd been forced to rely upon mercenaries or fate to deliver them and with the Twisted Rune taking notice of her now... not this time. She had done everything possible to train herself to the utmost of magical perfection- hiring sorcerers, magicians, enchanters, or madmen, it mattered not- anyone who had a measure of spellcasting talent that was more powerful than she, it had become her obsession to find them and have them train her, teach her until she could overcome them in a duel. Being the private tutor of a noblewoman had many benefits, and Nalia had made certain that each one's price was met. Some desired money for their services, others power, and still others just the thrill of teaching a pupil so eager. Some had been audacious enough to request a reward of her that she had not been willing to give- a night with her in the bedchamber. Those who made the request were... reminded, to put it lightly, of what was and was not proper court etiquette, and kindly escorted out of her Keep.
Nalia smirked at the thought of one of her 'trainers' and how shocked he had been when she had ordered him to the dungeon after his lurid, eyebrow waggling request. The smug bastard had changed his tune rather quickly after a few nights below. It mattered not how she had gained her power... the end result justified it. She would protect her people and her lands, and nobody would dare strike the De'Arnise home again, not while she yet lived and breathed. And whatever wonders awaited within the halls of the Watcher's Keep... those would cement her hold. The books and legends she had read spoke of all manner of treasures within... gold and jewels for the more simple minded, but for those who had the eye... spells and enchantments that would make the legendary Crom Faeyr pale in comparison. One machine in particular, built by someone named 'Lum the Mad' had caught her eye...
X X X X X X
"Are we really talking about this right now? I don't- no, no- we're not doing this right now, we're not. I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine here now, thank you."
"You most certainly did not look fine a few moments ago." Jaheira argued, her stubborn streak as unrelenting as ever. "Would you just- stop being such a childish fool!"
"I'm not being childish." Greywulf protested, gently pushing away any attempt from the rest of the group to approach him. "Imoen, tell them. I'm fine. You're fine, right? We don't need to stop a moment and talk about this."
"Nope." Imoen said quietly, both refusing to get involved, but at the same time, the hesitation in her eyes and the change in her demeanor reflecting a conflict deep inside. Greywulf knew that their experience with the Solar, the revelation of their mutual pasts... she needed to talk about it, needed to get her feelings out in the open... but not now. He couldn't afford to let that kind of emotion free- couldn't lose control now. Later, when things were quieter, when he had mastered the boiling sea beneath his surface...
"I agree with my siblings, as rare as it may be." Sarevok growled, pushing off a demonic pillar he had been watching the small ruckus from leaning upon. "There is nothing gained by debating what has happened, or whatever fanciful visions were shown us. Action is all that matters now. And you, brother, have another challenge room to face. I suggest we make ready for battle and forget all this nonsense."
Sarevok turned on his heel and stalked to wait by the newly made opening in the cavernous platform, his glowing yellow eyes flickering like candles in the darkness from afar. Jaheira grit her teeth, glancing back at the Deathbringer before trying to reach out to the sorcerer once more. "Greywulf... are you certain? I know that what you faced just now could not have been easy... do not shut me out. Do not shut *us* out..."
Greywulf paused, inhaling deeply before trying to smile, only seeming partially forced. "Look- all of you- I understand your concerns. I really do... but I'm fine. I don't need to talk about what I think about my mother trying to kill me as a child. My father was Bhaal- it doesn't get any crazier than that, you know? And Gorion killing her- I should be thanking him, all things considered. If he hadn't, then I wouldn't be here right now. So let's just drop it, go take care of whatever challenge this plane wants me to do, and we can get back to the fratricide."
Jaheira glared, eyes narrowing... then turned and left, Minsc and Imoen following close behind. Aerie stayed by his side, arms folded with a disapproving look. "That wasn't funny."
"I... I know." Greywulf admitted with a sigh. "I just didn't want to talk anymore. I still don't. Just... please trust me, Aerie. I know what I'm doing, even if it doesn't seem like it."
Aerie bit her lip for a moment, then steeled herself as Greywulf prepared to move past her- "I do trust you. But I don't trust Sarevok. And I don't think you realize what he's doing to you."
That got his attention- he turned his head, eyes meeting Aerie's with both questioning and... suspicion? She swallowed any hesitation and pushed forward. "I talked with him... he told me that he's planning on corrupting you. He wants you to be what he was before you killed him, and then he's going to follow on the tail of your power. Everything he does is meant to corrupt who you are, Greywulf... and I'm afraid he's succeeding-"
Greywulf's expression abruptly shifted- he smiled, and Aerie was unsure whether to be relieved by that. "Aerie... thanks for looking out for me. But you don't need to worry- I've known what Sarevok wants this whole time... he thinks he can mess with my head, change who I am... he's wrong. Let him say whatever he likes, so long as he stays in line."
"So you're not worried at all? You don't think that all the stuff he's told you, everything he's done has affected you at all?" Aerie tried to sound confident, but her courage was failing rapidly. She'd faced dragons, vampires, beholders and illithid, but trying to confront the man she nearly worshiped- the one she would still have done anything for- was like trying to cut through a glacier with a butter knife.
"Not in the slightest." Greywulf smiled, almost smirking. "I appreciate your concern, Aerie- really I do- but it's unnecessary. I know my limits and right now, I'm nowhere close to crossing them. Still, if it'll make you feel better, I'll apologize to everyone about the fratricide joke later."
She smiled weakly with a nod, following behind him, her worries not abating in the slightest. Greywulf cleared his throat quietly as they approached the group, motioning for them to follow as the six companions descended a torch lit stairway, the rock beneath their feet looking like it was moments from crumbling and giving way to the Abyss below. Aerie let herself slide close to Minsc, his presence comforting in this time of confusion and uncertainty for her... was it truly up to just her and Minsc to halt Sarevok's attempts at controlling their leader?
"Are you well?" Minsc asked quietly, or as quietly as he could manage in such a narrow space. Before she could reply, Aerie noticed Sarevok tossing her a smug glance, as though he knew precisely what was bothering her... and that there wasn't a thing she could do to stop him. Aerie grit her teeth, his self-assured confidence giving her a strength borne of anger and determination to fight back... and she wouldn't be fighting alone.
She turned to Minsc and whispered, "I'm fine. But after this is over, we need to talk..."
Greywulf stepped off the last stair into what looked like a fog filled room, closed and illuminated only by strange glowing fungi on the rocky walls. He raised his staff for defense as he slowly stepped in, turning left and right as he attempted to discern any traps or ambushes awaiting him. Granted, the whole room was borne of his subconscious and the taint therein, but that was no excuse to throw caution to the wind. The fog was thick, musty... nothing like the whirlwind that had obstructed their path and vision upstairs just an hour prior. The thought of what that strange haze meant gnawed at his mind, but he couldn't bother to focus on it. Too many things pulling his attention this way and that- he needed to settle down, find his center again. The rest could wait- this was all that mattered. And yet... he felt the anger rising within him again. Anger he'd pushed away after hearing the Solar's words- she dared insinuate that he and Sarevok were alike? That his brother could have been him if not for a twist of fate?
Imoen was close behind Greywulf, half for her own comfort, and half because she was still remarkably pissed over his last few words. 'Back to the fratricide?' Was this all just some joke to him? Both of them were good at making light of the serious, but she would never joke about something like that. Not with everything going on. Her anger blazed again, and once more, she tried to quell it. Ever since gaining a larger portion of the taint from Gromnir, fury had been rising inside her over the slightest things. This was just another outlet for that anger to rise within. And she knew it, knew it was the taint within that was driving this madness... but that knowledge did little to make it go away, which was strange in itself. Normally she controlled her emotions quite easily, hiding anything and everything, but right now... it was different. It was as though she wanted to leap onto Greywulf's back and slice his throat up with her blade... Imoen shook her head gently, hoping something would rise soon, something they could fight and kill... it would keep her from having to explain herself to the others for that much longer.
Sarevok's face still bore the slightest smirk as he touched down on the fog-driven arena... for that is what it was, no question about it. He'd seen enough of them to know what this place was meant for. The only question was when the threat would come. By all rights, he should quiet his thoughts, find the calm within he needed to sense his surroundings for danger... but he couldn't, somehow. Too many raw emotions pulling him this way and that. A bit of satisfaction in knowing how powerless that fool Avariel was to stop his plans. Annoyance at the way the ranger stuck by her side and propped her up. Without him she would've been died or faltered long ago. Disgust at how easily led Imoen was, and how despite all her weakness, all her pliability, the way she blindly followed her brother, she had survived longer than Sarevok and in fact, was the one responsible for his resurrection. Fury, jealousy at the truths that had come to light... Greywulf and he, so closely intertwined, so easily swapped if not for the split second decision of Gorion. It could have been him with the easy life. It *should* have been him.
Behind the three Bhaalspawn, a flash of light engulfed Jaheira, Minsc, and Imoen, trapping them behind a sheen of magic as the fog swelled for a moment. Those trapped within immediately whirled to face the magic wall that blocked them from their companions, then went to a defensive posture, backs to one another for protection. Or at least, they had done so for a brief moment, but now... Jaheira watched the three of them turn around, facing one another with slow, deliberate steps- her breath caught as she noticed the red glow to their eyes. Something had happened- and she feared what was about to occur.
"You. You!" Sarevok roared, drawing the Chaos Blade from its sheath and leveling it at Greywulf. "You exist to mock me! You took my plans for godhood from me, you took Tamoko, and now I find that you took the life that could have been mine! I would have given much for a father like Gorion- but you took it all! You had everything and still you torment me, proceeding on to power that should have been mine!"
"I took *your* power? I took *your* life?" Greywulf spat back, flame erupting in his hand as he diverted Sarevok's charge with an explosion at the Deathbringer's feet. "They were NEVER yours! It was mine- you could never have done what I've done! You're a joke, a failure who can't handle the competition! All this power I've amassed- I earned it all! I've always been your superior, and I'll show it by killing you again!"
He stepped forward to follow up, to attack Sarevok while the bigger man stood resolute, the fire diverted by his Red Scale Armor- a fierce gale wind threw both Greywulf and Sarevok into the rock wall surrounding the area, Imoen walking towards them with hatred in her red, burning eyes. "Who are either of you to claim power?" she seethed, pointing at Greywulf first as a flurry of magic missiles erupted from her hand and exploded against the sorcerer. "I gave up everything for you to have a shot at the Throne! I would've let you have it all, and the only thing I ever wanted was your protection, to know you would keep me safe. What did I get? I got my soul stolen, my memories stolen-" Imoen paused as she gripped Greywulf in a Bigby's Crushing Fist, picking him up and punctuating each word she shouted with the tremor of her pounding him into the rocky ground. "You will NOT steal my power!"
As a lifeless Greywulf crumpled to the ground, she turned her wrath on Sarevok, raising both hands as the ground beneath the Deathbringer began splintering and shaking, "And you! You wouldn't even live if it weren't for me! You're nothing!"
Sarevok leapt from the earthquake and swung his weapon at her neck, but the jump was off uneven ground- it was just short and Imoen rolled away at the last second, coming up with lightning in her hands. She hurled bolt after bolt at the Deathbringer, Sarevok forced to use the magic of his blade to deflect the energy, his boots sliding back across the rock with each impact of power. Inwardly, she could hear the shouts and cries to stop from her companions hidden behind a magical barrier, unable to interfere... but it didn't matter. All that mattered was taking out her rage upon this... monstrosity before her.
"You... are weak!" Sarevok grunted, trying to hold his ground against the enraged wizardess. "You were always- agh!- weak. Hiding behind your brother, never having the courage to do anything on your own. You should have stayed behind him- because now you die!"
He swung his blade at an incoming bolt of lightning, the enchanted edge slicing the crackling energy in two, both pairs deflecting around the room- one returned and struck Imoen in the arm. She cried out, staggering back as her whole arm went numb. He covered the distance between them in brief moments, and his sword came around to bisect her- a sheen of magic erupted around her as her own magical protections activated, an Improved Mantle keeping her from harm. Sarevok smirked as he dropped his blade and instead grabbed her in both arms, holding her in a bear hug meant to squeeze the life from her. Imoen cried out as the pressure increased, the Mantle spell keeping any damage from occurring to her body, but slowly, surely... couldn't breathe-
"No!" Minsc cried out, banging a fist against the magic barrier that separated them all. "Boo does not understand what is happening, but you will not harm Minsc's friends! RAAAGH-"
The sound of the big ranger beginning to slip into a berserker fury was cut off by the ignition of a Cone of Cold, setting Sarevok awash in ice as the intense flash-freezing caused his newly immobilized limbs to release Imoen. She rolled away from him to the ground as he attempted to struggle out of the ice, but he found himself unable to budge, his strength overcome by the fury of the elements. Imoen thrashed at the frost and ice that had slowly been creeping across her skin as well, swearing as she broke a layer of ice on her arm that had been turning her skin blue. Greywulf let the spell expire as he climbed to his feet, cuts and gashes covering his face, nose bleeding profusely from the severe beating. "She's *mine*." he snarled, raising a palm at Imoen with glowing green energy building inside.
"You?" Imoen sneered, clutching her arm where all feeling had been numbed. She spoke an incantation and her body glowed with energy, absorbing the power of the Disintegrate spell Greywulf had hurled her way. Protection from Magic- Greywulf seethed with rage. If that was how she wanted to play... he began the words to a Tenser's Transformation, his body beginning to shudder and grow with power. Imoen cursed and backpedaled, stepping past Sarevok's frozen form as she hurried a spell of her own. Several meteors began circling her body, and with each gesture one of them flew at Greywulf as he charged towards her, his massive form taking each attack in stride, letting the flaming rocks explode against him. Imoen realized far too late that her strikes would not hold him- she began another spell, knowing it would be too late to work-
Sarevok broke from his glacial prison with a roar, tackling Greywulf around the back of the knees, toppling him to the ground with a monstrous shake. Sarevok crawled to his feet, mounting atop the back of the transformed sorcerer with crazed rage in his features. Half his face was whitish and blue, suffering greatly from the deep cold he had endured- one eye was still covered in flecks of ice stained with red, ruined and blinded. Sarevok grasped Greywulf's head with both hands, and before the sorcerer could do a thing, he gave a sharp twist. The crack echoed far too loudly, and as Greywulf's lifeless body collapsed to the ground, all Aerie could do was scream.
Sarevok's laugh mingled alongside the cries of rage and despair coming from Jaheira, Minsc and Aerie- and just as quickly, it ended. Imoen hurled her spell, and an explosion of brown smoke erupted all around the Deathbringer. As it cleared, all that remained was a dried out husk of a skeleton, the red dragon scale armor Sarevok had worn crumbling and rusted. The Horrid Wilting spell had left both Greywulf and Sarevok's bodies as naught more than ashes...
The world strobed again, and Imoen gasped for breath, the ground spinning as she stared down into it. She was on her hands and knees in the center of the room, one corner of a triangle composed of her, Sarevok and Greywulf. Both of them looked up from their stupor, each one recoiling reflexively. "I... Greywulf?" Imoen whispered, looking at her brother, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before the rest of their companions arrived, Minsc and Aerie pulling Imoen away while Jaheira had Greywulf, looking him up and down to see his injuries- gone. The cold burns from their spellcraft, the broken bones from Sarevok's strength... all gone.
Jaheira tried to talk, but a crack in her voice stopped her. She paused, fighting back... anger? Sadness? She tried again, doing her absolute best to keep a calm and even tone. "We will discuss everything privately."
Greywulf nodded dumbly- he could do nothing else. The six of them slowly left the room, none seeing as the fog inside was sucked out like the gust of an air elemental... none saw the craggy rock comprising the wall shift and reform itself into the faces of monsters and reptilian eyes.
X X X X X X
"Hmm. From your softening gaze, it would almost seem as though you did not think I could be trusted. I'm not certain as to whether or not I should be offended, General."
Mellissan smirked as Tombelthen surveyed the oasis that he and his army had arrived at- a single source of water and relief from the overbearing sun in the barren desert that led south from the Marching Mountains. He did not bother to look down at the woman who had accompanied them, guided them to this desolate place. "I would have been a fool to not carry some hint of mistrust for your words, no? To blindly trust someone who has spent years protecting the Bhaalspawn... you could have easily led us to an ambush by these monsters. You still may have."
Mellissan laughed again, her tones light and merry, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath her words. "General, please. If I had wanted to ensnare you and your men, do you think I would allow myself to be held at your side through this whole ordeal? You would have my head at the slightest hint of betrayal, wouldn't you?"
Jamis Tombelthen snorted once, watching his men unload their tents and prepare their camp for the foreseeable future before turning to finally look at Mellissan. "Do not mistake my hospitality for leniency. You promised that you would help us track down the rest of the god-children before they brought further devastation to the Realms. In return, you have already been well compensated- and despite what my reputation may be, I take no pleasure in this task that has been appointed to me. Many innocents will die if I invade town after town to hunt these devils down. If you can deliver upon your promise and bring them to me, out here where nobody may be harmed, Faerun might be spared further destruction."
She smirked a touch- it made Jamis angry. He spoke in cold tones that would make any of his men freeze in their tracks. "Is there something that amuses you?"
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to make light of your situation." Mellissan composed herself, keeping her voice even and her features neutral. "I simply found your use of the word 'innocents' to be... ironic. There are no innocents in war... especially not when dealing with the Bhaalspawn. I learned this the hard way at Saradush, and that is why I aid you now."
He relented slightly, turning his back to her. He squinted at the glare from the sun off the clear waters of the oasis, watching the heat ripples distort everything on the horizon. "You said that the wards of Gorion were the most dangerous, yes? I agree with your assessment- but from everything we found at Saradush, it would seem that they died in the same magic explosion that decimated Yaga-Shura's army. There was nothing left but ashes... what makes you think they will show up here?"
"Their leader has a knack for escaping certain-death situations." Mellissan replied, undoing the clasp that held her hair up and letting the red mane flow behind her before folding her arms. "He is hunting the rest of his siblings- they exist somewhere south of the Marching Mountains... or so I am told. These were the god-spawn that refused my aid, the ones I sought to protect my charges from. Imoen and Greywulf hunt them, and if they are to reach the god-children through the desert, they will have to pass by this oasis to survive. Disguise your encampment as nothing more than traders, and they will come right into your trap where you may slay them with ease."
Tombelthen grunted once, nodding in acceptance of her plan before descending the sand dune they'd been watching his men work from, making sure that they did what was necessary to keep their true purpose hidden from anyone at distance. Mellissan watched him, wondering just how many of the General's men would die trying to kill the wards of Gorion before the two of them retreated. Wondering if the General would ever know just how badly he was being played. Wondered if, by some mystical twist of fate, Tombelthen actually managed to kill Greywulf, how long his decimated army would last against a force comprised of dragons and drow...
She smiled, then turned and strode down the opposite side of the sand dune. No, the army of Tethyr wouldn't kill Greywulf or Imoen, but the Bhaalspawn would be desperate then... more desperate than ever. And so very willing to take any help that she had to offer them... all she needed now was to let Greywulf know that through some mystical twist of fate, she had survived the destruction of Saradush, and draw him into this 'trap.' He would slay some of the General's army, and suddenly the one outsider in this web of hers would have a target, and leave her true pawns alone. After all, Tombelthen's forces were potent, and if allowed to remain at full strength, could hold their own against the other members of the Five. That was... unacceptable. They needed a new target, someone who would not necessarily slaughter them all, but who would weaken their numbers and draw them from hunting those she commanded directly. Greywulf and Imoen would do nicely...
X X X X X X
"Are you all right? C'mon, Imoen... don't shut us out..."
Aerie's pleading voice was like a buzzing in the back of the thief-mage's head as she sat on the cold stone, knees tucked up to her chest as she tried to find her composure, eyes squeezed shut. That... that had been horrifying. All of it, the rage, the battle... it was like a hazy, red-filled dream, but one which she could remember with astounding clarity. She could still see the fuzzy darkness creeping around the edges of her vision as Sarevok's grip had forced the air from her lungs. She could feel the chill as Greywulf had entombed his brother in ice. Could hear the crack of Greywulf's neck as the Deathbringer finally did what he had set out to do so long ago.
"Gah!" Imoen cried out, tearing her mind away from those awful memories, head snapping upwards as she tried to breathe deeply. She met Aerie and Minsc's concerned faces, the big ranger holding her hand inside his massive palms. She tried to put on a brave face and smile, but it was weak and obviously forced. "I'm... I'm okay, guys. Thanks."
"Imoen, you're not okay." the Avariel knelt down to face Imoen at eye level, her cream and blue colored robes pooling around her. "The things you said and did in there... was that you? I mean, did you..."
"Did I what? Did I mean all that stuff?" Imoen tried to scoff at that notion, only succeeding in coughing for a moment before pushing her way up and forcing her way out from between her two friends. "Of course not, y'buffleheads. I didn't mean a word of it... not a word."
Across their encampment, a similar scene was being echoed as Jaheira stood by Greywulf, watching him with a combination of worry and anger in her eyes. Greywulf had only looked up to meet that gaze once before immediately deciding it would be better to let his gaze drift to the ground as he sat, elbows lying across his knees. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"No. Do not try and deflect this discussion with feigned stupidity. You go into that room, fight Sarevok and Imoen to the death, and I am supposed to believe everything is well with you after it is over?" she said incredulously.
"Jaheira, what do you want me to say?" Greywulf sighed with resignation. "That I completely understand all the methods and ways that my Pocket Plane attempts to 'test' me? That I know why all of a sudden the only thing I wanted to do was kill Im and Sarevok? I don't have the answers you want, Jaheira... I wish I did, but I don't."
She opened her mouth as if to argue, then shut it again. The two remained in silence for a short time before Jaheira spoke once more, the anger and worry gone, but replaced with determination. "Then answer me this, truly, as your friend and your lover. Has the taint drawn a hold over you?"
No, I've given it a hold. The honest answer echoed in his ears moments after she posed the question. It was true... he'd willingly given the Slayer a small handhold to better make use of its power- he'd done it in order to kill Yaga-Shura, to save Imoen at the Temple in the Marching Mountains... and yet, he couldn't tell her. How could he? She was so firmly entrenched in her belief that the taint could not be mastered, that it would only enslave and destroy those who attempted to use it... he'd believed it for a long time as well. But now, learning from Sarevok's mistakes, actually directing its power in the battle against Yaga-Shura... he knew better. But none of them could know. None of them would understand- and that thought sent a chill down his spine. When did I start hiding things from them? When did I start lying to all my friends about the taint? Could it be that I'm not as... as in control as I thought? That the Slayer is the one pulling the strings, not me?
"Greywulf?" her words pierced the fog of uncertainty that had lowered about him, and he quickly shook his head, letting uncertainty bleed into his voice as he responded.
"I don't... I don't think so. Maybe sometimes, it's harder to tell... but I don't think so."
"I see." Jaheira nodded simply, and for a moment Greywulf was afraid she was going to call his bluff. "And... the fog? The strange fog that separated all of us when we arrived here last? Have you any clue as to what drew that out, what changed the Plane? You have some control over the way in which it manifests itself..."
Greywulf paused- he hadn't thought about it at all, really... but she made a strong argument. Right now the Plane was orderly, demonic and threatening, as it had always been. The strange haze that had overcome it before was... something else. The Solar had banished it when she arrived, said something at the time as well. What was it... "Where once your powers were ordered, structured, now it has been thrown into chaos."
His powers over the Plane apparently had splintered, fractured within his grasp. He had them back now, but still... again, another subconscious effect of his newfound acceptance of the power within him? Perhaps... yes. He could feel a small part of his mind focused upon keeping the Plane organized, keeping it as it should be. It was surprisingly easy... he exhaled, concentrating slightly- the rock he was seated upon morphed into a pair of raised pedestals that propelled him to his feet before melting back into the ground. "It's nothing... as you can see; I'm quite in control again. I think... maybe the shock of that Arrow of Detonation combined with being flung back into the Plane, Yaga-Shura dying right beside me..."
"Did his taint enter you as well?" Jaheira asked, and it was a good question. Greywulf couldn't remember, to be quite honest... killing the giant had been enough, and then the world had gone black.
"I don't know," he confessed. "Maybe. All I know is that I'm doing the best I can, Jaheira... I know it doesn't seem like much, but I swear that everything I'm doing, everything I've done is to keep us safe and to end this madness. You know me..."
Jaheira did not say anything to begin with, and it was an almost audible, 'Do I?' that flitted through her head. Still, she nodded quietly and as Sarevok observed from afar, the whole party slowly drifted toward their bedrolls, acknowledging the need for some rest after such a grueling challenge. He curled his lip in disgust at their weakness... granted, the immediate threat from Yaga-Shura had ended ,but if they did not take the offensive, move against the 'allies' of the fire giant, the ones Mellissan had promised to tell them of... he snorted again. Mellissan... gods only knew if she had survived the destruction of the city. If not, they would have to seek out their foes alone, a prospect which, while not impossible, would most certainly involve letting them gain an advantage, start hunting them down instead of the other way around.
He nearly spit in frustration, quickly and efficiently setting up his own bedroll for the night, far flung from the others, as usual. Lying down to where he could still see the others- just a precaution, of course- he tried to let his body slow, let the rage within him dissipate, but it was far more difficult this night. Whether it was just the adrenaline from his short lived and unreal battle with his siblings, or something else... or perhaps a mixture of both. Somewhere, deep inside, a part of him demanded to know the truth, even though he was quite sure it would be a truth he wouldn't like. Still, it was that same part of him that drove himself to be the very best he could be, to discover and peel away all the weakness within, no matter how much it would hurt to do so.
The truth was that he had enjoyed killing Greywulf. That every ounce of him had been in ecstasy upon snapping his brother's neck. It was something he'd longed to do for years, ever since the young upstart mage had begun entering his plans for taking the Throne of Blood. That truth was easy enough to swallow. He'd settled for taking power at his brother's side when Greywulf ascended, but it didn't mean the thought of killing him still didn't drift lazily into his mind every so often. The thought of being slain by Imoen... that was much more difficult. He'd taken her to be a childish fool, an annoyance gifted with power she didn't understand and was undeserving of. But her words... that bitter tone when she'd declared that the taint was hers alone and would not be stolen by either him or Greywulf... perhaps she had more strength, more ambition that he knew. And yet, she continued to hide it behind that disgusting mask of childish innocence. And the fact that part of her soul resided within him, gave him form... another truth he wished he could deny.
As much as he hated to admit it, he owed her a great debt. The only reason he was even given form was her sacrifice... not only that, but the link they shared was growing stronger, as her Bhaal-essence grew stronger too. He could feel the conflict within her, could feel how much she both loathed and desired the taint. When she grew pained, or angry, he could feel those emotions bleeding into him as well. Nothing debilitating, but it was definitely there. He knew secrets about her... secrets she'd not shared with anyone, perhaps not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. How do you share the emptiness of having your soul ripped from you? How do you share the feeling of betrayal when you find out that the one you trusted the most took your very memories in order to protect himself? He felt all those and more. He knew her hopes, her dreams, her loves and hates, every primal urge and desire she felt eventually bled to him. It was something he'd learned to block out after a few days of meditation, but not something he ever could get rid of. A side effect he'd not considered when she volunteered to give him life. He also knew that every word she'd spoken to Minsc and Aerie, denying that she meant any of the words she'd said while under the influence of the Pocket Plane, was an outright lie.
The 'challenge' that Greywulf's subconscious had forced upon them tore every hidden desire and ambition regarding the taint to the surface of all three Bhaalspawn. It was pleasing to know that Greywulf hated him as much as he hated the sorcerer... and to know that Greywulf was beginning to regard the power of his blood as jealously as Sarevok had regarded his own. And yet... here was the crux of the matter, the truth that Sarevok feared and yet needed to confront to be at his best. While every little dirty secret that Imoen and Greywulf had wanted to hide were thrown to the light during their fight... the same was true of Sarevok. That he blamed Greywulf for stealing his power was enough to swallow... but to know that he still held feelings for Tamoko, still missed her in the darkest depths of his heart? That was... unexpected. He had thought himself far beyond feeling any further grief for her loss.
Greywulf and he had spoken in the past about Tamoko's defection from his ranks, how his path had driven her from his side... but he had thought they were responsible for her death. Greywulf had said that it was another who killed her... but Saradush's destruction had halted their conversation. All of a sudden, knowing what had brought her to an early grave, knowing who was responsible... it meant much more to him. If it wasn't Greywulf... that meant he would be free to pursue revenge upon them- a revenge that would be so much more horrible than anything he had dealt before.
Sarevok smiled with the thought... but that wasn't all. That wasn't the only truth he wanted to deny... the other words he had spoken during their challenge. Words of jealousy, of a desire for a family, a life like Greywulf's at Candlekeep. Surely that was an exaggeration... surely he wasn't jealous of the way Greywulf had been raised? He felt his teeth grinding as he tried to think of another explanation, but one again, the truth made itself real and burned as much as it healed. He was jealous. He wished for a life like Greywulf's. A father figure like Gorion- his foster father, Rieltar Anchev, had viewed him as a successor to the Iron Throne, and trained him thusly... there was never any 'love' in their relationship. No proud moments where Sarevok would have said he was happy to be the son of that man. No moments where Rieltar ever made Sarevok feel any joy. It was a simple relationship of give and take- Sarevok strengthened Rieltar's power base, gave him a successor to his empire... Rieltar gave Sarevok the opportunity to become the Lord of Murder through harsh, unforgiving training. The only joy he had felt involving Rieltar was when he had killed him.
Gorion though... Gorion had been a kindly man, one who had tried to raise Greywulf the best way he knew. A weak, pathetic existence, one that valued 'morals' and trite sayings beyond actual power or ambition. A waste of a child by any standard... and yet, if he could have traded places with Greywulf, if it could have been him rescued by the old man so long ago... Sarevok snarled again, turning over so he didn't have to face the others while he lay there. The Solar had stated that he and Greywulf only existed in these roles by the smallest twist of fate. He had disregarded the thought quickly, choosing to believe that no matter who had brought him up, he would have made his own path and strove for the power his blood offered... but was that the truth? He still didn't know... and slowly, quietly, the answer was becoming much more important to him.