Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them. I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

Author's note: Well, we are very nearly at the end now, and I would like to take the opportunity to thank my betas and everyone who took the time to leave feedback over the last ninety-five chapters.

I first began this story as a means to improve my writing style and the comments I've received from both betas and readers has really helped with this. For those readers who haven't left any feedback before now, I understand, because I find it very difficult to write what I would consider helpful, balanced reviews myself, but I would ask you here, if you have anything to say which you feel could be constructive and help me further my goal of improving my writing, please submit it, because we're fast running out of chapters for you to comment on, and I would find it a great help. :-)

– Blackcross & Taylor

A matter of death and life

It was just before dawn. The stone of the courtyard bore a light dusting of hoar frost, whipped into fine whorls and thorns by the night's wind. Fritha watched her breath hang in the icy air. Snow clouds were gathering above them, the first delicate flakes drifting down to kiss her exposed face. She looked south to the village she knew was still sleeping beyond the black, mist-wreathed forest. She imagined Kaatje awakening to find her world a blanket of white, her excitement as she pulled on her boots to go out and play in the snow.

She could already be dead by then.

'Fritha?'

She turned at the druid's voice, the others already gathered in a circle a few paces from her, Aerie holding the amulet that would return them to Suldanessellar.

'Are you ready?'

She nodded, moving to join their circle, a hand stretching out with the others, a finger from each of them resting on the cold metal disk as Aerie gathered her magics.

Fritha opened her eyes. The trees towered about her, a weak winter sun streaming through the web of branches above to dapple the fallen pillars and collapsed dome of the ruins behind them, the few soldiers on guard there leaping up at the their appearance. Fritha fixed the closest one with her near-black gaze.

'Go and tell Elhan we have arrived.'

…

The soldiers had not insisted on an escort –perhaps Elhan had said to expect them, one running off to inform the prince of their arrival, while Fritha led the group back through the encampment to where they and the general had last spoken -only this time it would be she who was to ask the questions.

'Hey, isn't that?' came the girl beside her, Imoen suddenly raised on her tip toes as she yelled, 'Hey, Solaufein!'

And Fritha glanced in the direction of her manic waving to spot him, the drow clearly helping two elves dismantle the tent next to them, before he had glanced back at his name. He was seemingly growing more accustomed to his new surroundings, the broad hat still worn, but the veil was gone, and she could see the slight smile gracing his usually impassive face as he marched across to them.

'Fritha, you yet live,' he greeted, clasping her forearm in welcome and sending a nod to the rest of them. Fritha shrugged.

'So far. You managed here?'

The smile he wore twisted wryly. 'Well enough –some are more trusting than others, though I was treated better than an elf would have been in my own city –I endured. You go now to meet with the general? I shall join you if I may.'

'The more, the merrier,' laughed Imoen –there could clearly never been too many people to share in the elves' disgrace.

General Sovalidaas and his young sergeant were within the general's pavilion as they arrived, though a shout from one of the guards brought them out soon enough, the elves looking both eager and apprehensive.

'You have the Lanthorn?'

'Yes,' confirmed Jaheira, eyes scanning the camp about them. 'The city is still sealed then?'

The general nodded grimly. 'Nothing has changed.'

'And Irenicus is still inside?' pressed Imoen, the elves sharing a look as the sergeant faltered, 'Why, yes -that we can tell.'

Anomen's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'We have faced such treachery before. Your words had better hold true -if we save your city only to find the mage long fled, I will murder you myself.'

Fritha intervened before the sergeant could snap his reply. 'Draw it mild, Anomen. Irenicus is here –I know it.'

'Prince Elhan arrives,' announced Sovalidaas, cutting off any further argument, 'Your Highness.'

Elhan merely nodded at their salutes, attention instantly on the newcomers.

'You have the Lanthorn?'

Fritha nodded, making no move to take it from where it was nestled safely in Aerie's pack.

'Yes, Bodhi had it as we suspected –and she also had quite a lot to say before we killed her.'

'How can you trust the words of that vampire?' snapped the sergeant.

'Oh, who said she was a vampire?' trilled Imoen. The two soldiers flushed, Elhan the only one to meet her eye as Fritha sent him a measured look.

'You have been withholding information, Elhan.'

'As though that matters now! We have not the time-'

'I have the time,' she countered coldly, 'and I think you'll find the truth is all that matters when I wish to hear it. Now tell me what you know.'

'Every moment is vital! You do not…' He trailed off, still trying to press her past it as he offered weakly, 'We do not speak of it to outsiders and it is not my place to tell; the high priestess or queen-'

'Could be dead,' Jaheira snapped. 'If you are happy enough to let us outsiders save your city, then you can tell us why you brought its ruin about to begin with.'

Elhan gave a frustrated sigh, glancing briefly to the two elves beside him before turning back to them, his voice a hollow monotone.

'Bodhi spoke the truth. She and Irenicus are not the strangers we may have led you to believe. The seeds for this tragedy were sown decades ago. Irenicus… or Jonoleth as he was known back then, was a celebrate mage of our city; he had the peoples' respect and the queen's love. I could never have believed of him this evil. If anything it was his sister's influence that was his downfall. What Baelidra lacked in her brother's skills she made up for in her hunger for power and in the end it was all Jonoleth craved too. Together they sought more power than was possible and they were not concerned about the consequences. Irenicus performed a dark ritual and committed a grave offence against the most sacred symbol of our city: the Tree of Life. He sought to merge his essence with the tree and though he failed in the end, there was a price to pay for the rest of us. He disrupted our peoples' connection to the tree and many of our weaker citizen lay near death. He claimed later that he had been hoping for a way to protect the city, hoping to somehow harness the energy of the tree should Suldanessellar ever come under attack, though none believed him.'

Elhan shook his head, just as lost as he had been those many years ago, it seemed.

'I wonder still if it was an outright lie, or merely how he justified to himself such an act. That he would endanger so many for his own selfish goal was terrible enough, but to threaten the very nature of what makes us who we are was unfathomable. Many called for his execution, but the queen was torn.' Elhan dipped his face, finally shamed as he confessed, 'I loved Jonoleth as own my brother and I knew well of my sister's love for him, too. I convinced her to seek another way. We spoke to Demin, the High Priestess and together she and the Queen petitioned the Seladrine. Irenicus's fate was decided and it was harsh. One who would act so against his own people was deemed no true elf and, as such, their connection to their elven spirit was severed.'

Fritha swallowed, the words sticking in her throat as a swell of all but forgotten sympathy surged through her heart.

'You took his soul.'

Elhan nodded curtly. 'His and his sister's both. It was decreed that as they had sinned against their very nature, that the essence of what made them elves would be removed. I understand Baelidra tried to avoid her fate by exposing herself to vampirism and becoming the creature you knew as Bodhi, though she found divine punishments are not so easily circumvented.'

Fritha was staring back at them, a hand pressed to her own chest as though she could feel her soul's distant cry of outrage.

'How could you?'

'You do not understand!' Elhan shouted, guilt and temper rising at the accusation. 'It was done as a mercy! Their lives were reduced by the act, yes, but not as yours has been; they would have lived as long as any human would. The procedure was not meant to kill them, but show to them the true meaning of their heritage and, once realised, they would return in humility to make amends and once more rejoin our people.'

Imoen snorted. 'Well, guess what? It didn't work.'

Elhan shook his head, his sorrow tangible. 'We realise that now. What we truly believed was a lapse in judgement, was, in fact, the work of a man wholly consumed by his ambition –his actions here prove it beyond doubt.'

But Fritha was not having them so neatly sidestep this blame.

'You took his soul! He could have been a damned saint beforehand and it would not have mattered! It is you who do not understand! You stupid, selfish people -you took everything from him! How long, I wonder, before he abandoned his own name for Irenicus –the Shattered One! Gods, if it were not for all those people within your city who are suffering now for your folly, I would leave him to his revenge and wish him well in it!'

'But you will not,' said Elhan quietly.

Fritha drew a deep breath and turned her face away.

'No.'

'Then enough talk. The priests felt it early this morning; the Tree of Life is suffering. This means the palace as been breached and the queen taken-'

'Your Highness,' breathed Sovalidaas, 'you did not say.'

'To what end? It would have merely disheartened our already broken forces. My belief is that Irenicus is trying to complete what he long ago began. My sister, Queen Ellesime has a link to the Seladrine not unlike your own divinity, and with it a link to the great tree on which our city rests –he will use her as a channel to drain the power from the Tree of Life and resume his plan.'

'Which was?' asked Valygar

'To join the Seladrine.'

'He is mad!' cried Aerie, 'They would never allow it!'

The prince shrugged. 'No, and I wonder now if he does not follow this path merely to bring about our destruction. We have not much time, the Tree of Life is barely recovered from his last atrocity – if he manages to drain enough energy from the tree it will no longer be able to sustain us - the city will die.'

Fritha's eyes were hard. 'How long do we have?'

Elhan sighed and shook his head.

'It could already be too late.'

…

They gathered before the huge tree, the trunk a tower of living wood where once the city gates proudly opened upon the stairs to the elves' beloved city, the canopy above alive with fresh green leaves, the winter's cold unable to ravage such life. The few surviving battalions were summoned and briefed, the priests gathering in a ritual circle to one side, the Lanthorn in the centre as they made their prayers.

Fritha gazed up at the tree above her, the weak light finding a path through the leaves to stipple her face. Every moment since the asylum had been leading to this confrontation and now it had come she did not know how to feel. There was no longer any anger or desire for vengeance -there was hardly even a desire for her soul anymore. No, she would face Irenicus simply because she was fated to – perhaps as it had always been. And yes, it was unfair that it had had to be her, but then that was what life was like sometimes.

And she had been luckier than most. She had had a family of sorts and a place to live where she had been loved and educated in safety. And she had been blessed with opportunities too; had done and seen more than many did in their whole lives –and, what was more, she had been able to do some good along the way, too.

Perhaps, on balance, it was not all so unjust.

Fritha let her gaze drift to her companions, gathered nearby in a group of their own, Solaufein a pace or two apart from them as he checked his sword. He had spent so little time in their company she was not surprised he still felt an outsider and a fortnight with the elves had done little, it seemed, to integrate him into that group either –perhaps it would always be so for him up there.

As for the others, one of the elven clerics had expended a great deal of power and prayer to heal Anomen's arm, the knight making to test the limb as he hefted his mace back and forth. Aerie was having one last glance through her spellbook, Haer'Dalis closing to her side for a quiet exchange. Fritha could likely guess at what about and she let her gaze move on to Imoen, the girl looking unusually serious, Minsc stern as he lectured her on some points of battle, Jaheira busy fussing over the light suit of chain Elhan had gifted the young mage. And Valygar was at their back, bow aloft as he went through his customary routines and Fritha wondered if it wasn't exercise of mind rather than body -she doubted he would be using his bow much in the battle to come. It would be a close flight and likely bloody -she hoped they would survive it. She would have liked to ask them to remain there and let her go on alone with elves, but she knew they would refuse her.

Anomen glanced up to find her watching them, the man muttering something to Jaheira and Fritha waited as one by one they gathered before her, a certain sense of expectation to the air –soon there would be no time for words.

'I should probably say something inspiring here, something to fill you full of vigour and fight, but I have expended all my speeches on stage-shy actors and uncertain squires. So I will give you this: please try not to die and if perhaps we do not make it in time and Irenicus eludes us once more, know that, though I cannot claim to have always been happy this past year, it was an easier journey for travelling it with you.'

A shout behind her, a rapturous chorus of hope from the elves about them and she did not need to turn to know the Lanthorn had done its work. The trunk was sealed no longer, the great archway opening like a knot in the wood to reveal the coil of stairs within, Elhan already shouting his orders as the troops formed up.

Fritha drew a deep breath, summoning the last of her strength. The end was coming.

xxx

Jaheira stood on the edge of that vast circular platform, the size, at least, of a town piazza, her heart a sickening turmoil of awe and horror. The city was in ruins.

Her eyes swept along the web of walkways that spanned the branches, the wooden dwellings of the elves rising like thorns from the many platforms, everything intricately carved and stained down to the last tile -once in complete harmony with the surroundings, now bearing the pocks and scorches of recent fighting. Plumes of black smoke hung in the distance, rising through the canopy from unseen fires, while one of the walkways on the tier above had half-collapsed, though whether by accident or design she could not say. And everywhere about her were bodies, lost weapons and blood.

It was deathly silent; no trill of birdsong, nor even the clamour of distant fighting. That place was not a battlefield, it was a tomb.

Jaheira finally turned from it, Elhan giving orders to his five remaining captains, the remains of his army still amassing behind her, soldiers filing hurriedly from the stairwell.

'Hear me, my captains. Most of those who have survived are likely hidden within their homes or under siege in the temple –the building is defensible and our priests would know if that holy site had fallen. Company seven will remain here and hold the stairs. Companies four and six are to-'

The baleful baying of a horn somewhere on the tier above cut him off. Jaheira's head whipped up, her eyes instantly catching on the black-skinned figure that was darting along the walkway overhead: drow.

The young captain at his side already had an arrow nocked.

'Shall I-?'

The questioned was never finished, another horn answering the first, and then another and another. And then it came, the clatter and rattle building to the great grinding tramp of feet as from the surrounding buildings they stepped, bands of drow racing along the walkways to gather on the large platform to their east, the blazing dawn light seemingly no trouble for them – perhaps their goddess or some mage's blessing had cured them of their aversion, demons and other creatures either bribed or summoned into their service standing prominent in that sea of black. It crept like a plague towards them, a blight upon the tree itself; slowly enough to be wary, confident enough to come.

Elhan's face was set as he turned back to the captains.

'A battle here and we will never make the palace in time. Our plans have changed. The main body of our troops will face them here, we will push towards the temple and make it seem as though we hope to break the siege. If they believe this to be our only objective they should concentrate their forces upon us, allowing a small group to slip through unnoticed.' He turned from them, the captains returning to their troops to relay these orders as Elhan faced them. 'You, Fritha, must get to the palace and through it reach the heart of the tree; Irenicus will be there, as will my sister. You must hurry, Suldanessellar's hopes fade with every moment –soon the tree will be beyond recovery and this city and all those linked to the tree will die. General, take what is left of the second company and go with them, you must reach the palace.'

Sovalidaas nodded gravely. 'Understood.'

Elhan turned back to what remained of the army assembled behind him, taking a flying leap to land upon the finely wrought railing next to them, sword aloft as he screamed the command.

'For Suldanessellar!'

The roar was deafening and it was matched by the horde opposite, both armies surging forward, Elhan at the elves' head as they met in clash of blades, spells roaring overhead and in the chaos no one noticed a small group of mercenaries and their half-dozen elven allies slip along the western walkway.

As soon as they were out of sight, they broke into a run, the elves leading the way along the empty walkways, past the broken barricades that had been placed between houses, the upper windows put through and scorched by magefire where sorcerers had covered the warriors at the blockade below, the posts still manned by the bodies of those who had given their lives in the defence of their city, the drow made to fight for every step towards its heart.

Sovalidaas was the consummate soldier; he saw the carnage, but it merely seemed to strengthen his resolve, the man running on to bring them finally to a halt on a wide circular platform, the benches and sculptures that had once lined the edge now broken, likely taken for some hasty barricade, the door of the large house behind them pillaged also, the high-arched doorway a yawning black hole into that empty home –what scenes of slaughter could lay within? The general ignored it all, a hand thrown to the northern walkway.

'Come, the palace is on the third tier in the crown of the tree, the-'

His voice died, the shadows of the doorway falling back, banished by the huge creature that was slowly emerging from the mouth, all flame and teeth, the unmistakable scent of brimstone tainting the air. A small group of drow warriors followed their demon thrall, one shouting back into the house, clearly calling for reinforcements.

Sovalidaas glanced to the elves about him –they knew what would be required of them. The general drew his long sword.

'We must remain. They cannot be allowed to inform their captains of our plans to reach the palace. Go, take the walkway there and get to the stairs.'

'But you'll never hold them,' breathed Aerie. Sovalidaas did not look back to her, eyes fixed on the amassing force before them.

'The city is dying -just go!'

Solaufein slowly drew his sword and flicked back his hat an inch. 'I will stay.'

Jaheira glanced to Minsc, some silent understanding passing between the two warriors.

'You heard the general,' she snapped, hefting her staff, Minsc at her side and drawing his greatsword, 'Go on! We will catch up to you!'

A tense pause, where many words were spoken by the silence and they were gone, racing on once more, Minsc's battle cry fading to an indistinct roar as the two enemies met in a clash of swords. Imoen tore after the others, a stitch already screaming in her side. Ahead of her, another huge trunk opened on the stairwell within, Fritha and Valygar already there and stepping over the remnants of another makeshift barricade, the furniture blood-spattered and charred, all that was left of one final vain defence of the upper levels.

Up and up they climbed, Fritha passing three similarly barricaded exits until they emerged, at last, the palace before them, rising at the far end of the long wide walkway right in the heart of the canopy, a huge structure of spires and minarets that seemed to have grown from the tree itself. The others were already away, Imoen tearing from the mouth of the stairwell, only to watch as one by one they skidded to a halt before her, transfixed by the shadow that swooped over them. Her head whipped up, and Imoen heard herself gasp.

'Oh, gods…'

It was as though they were frozen, everyone stopped to watch as the huge green dragon dived low to alight on the walkway opposite, poisonous yellow eyes scanning over them as it let out a satisfied roar. Valygar recovered first.

'Go, Fritha,' he commanded, eyes still on the creature as he drew his katana, Haer'Dalis at his side and doing the same with his own twin blades. Imoen swallowed, trying not to look at her friend as she fell back next to Aerie and began to summon her magics.

'Go on!' he shouted again, sparing her the briefest glance, 'Anomen, go with her –go now; free the queen, before it is too late!'

Scarcely a chance to catch his breath and they were away again, and Anomen could feel the judder through his legs as the dragon landed heavily on the walkway behind them, its roar barely audible over the explosion of spells. Anomen blinked the sweat from his eyes, his limbs screaming in protest to every step, the heavy greaves dragging at his legs

Fritha was just ahead of him, the girl racing tirelessly towards their goal, eyes narrowed and face set. The palace gates were twisted and broken, hanging limply from the ornate wooden archway, a scattering of drow on guard in the courtyard beyond. The first did not even manage to draw his blade, the girl slaying him as she flew past to kill another with the same swing, Anomen guarding her back against a third as he pounded after her. Across the courtyard and through the palace doors, the few drow left already screaming for reinforcements as they made their pursuit.

He could not tell how she knew the way, the girl racing through the maze of corridors and stairs, ever deeper, ever downward, until at last they reached it. The chamber was circular, both ceiling and floor an ornate wooden lattice, large holes cut in the walls to let the very branches of the tree itself meander their way through, the leaves dappled with pale sunlight. A stone pool was set in the corner, though the water had been long since drained, a flight of wooden stairs coiling away from them.

'He is down there?' gasped Anomen. Fritha nodded, whirling back at the shouts behind them, the rattle of armoured feet clattering along the corridor outside.

'Go, Fritha, I will hold them here.'

She stared back at him, just as she had in his empty kitchen, eyes alive and burning within.

'Fritha, go! There is no time!'

And, for an instant, her mouth was on his, salty with sweat, his beard scraping roughly against her cheek in the fierceness of it, and then she was gone, bounding down the steps three at a time and in such haste she could have been falling away from him. Anomen turned back to the doorway and hefted his mace.

…

She flew down the stairs, down the length she had climbed up to the palace and that distance again, the coiling stairwell opened in blue by her werelight until at last she was out and, for a moment, even with everything that rested upon her, all she could do was stand and stare.

The tree was huge. In reality, it was the same tree that housed the city above, but up there it was harder to see, with its buildings and walkways to lay claim to the eye. Down here, however…

It stretched off before her, an endless sprawl of twisting branches in the half-light, great limbs as thick as trunks branching out and dividing over and over, narrowing to the thinnest switch, the leaves that covered them moving in the slight breeze as though the very air was alive, and if she looked hard enough she could see the city she had left so far above her.

Her hunger knew the way, Fritha racing across the branches, leaping gaps without pause to judge distance or speed, her boots rasping on the rough bark. She was growing closer now, the essence writhing in its excitement and about her she could see the signs, the once green leaves beginning to brown and curl; the Tree of Life was dying.

'You there -I can hear your passage! Help me!' shrieked a voice, shrill in its panic, Fritha ducking a low branch to finally see her, a petite blonde elf, her golden hair almost longer than she was and spilling about her as she knelt within a tall cage of light, each bar springing from the ring of runes encircling her knees, the pinnacle set with a crystal which pulsed with a sickly green glow. 'Please, you must help me, you-' the queen stopped, looking surprised, 'You are…'

'Fritha, the source,' she supplied, 'You are Ellesime, the conduit.'

The woman nodded, already struggling to her feet. 'Quickly, you must free me; the tree dies with every moment!'

'Any suggestions?'

You could disrupt the runes; drain their power into another –try siphon

'I wasn't talking to you,' Fritha snapped, sending Ellesime an expectant glare, 'Well?'

'Do you have knowledge of the runes? You can transfer the energy, if you draw out the one for siphon. Here, I can show-'

Told you

'Yes, all right.'

A moment crouched and scratching it in the living wood with her dagger, before a touch ignited the magics, the cage about the queen slowly fading to let the crystal drop and bounce over the edge of the bough, crashing through the foliage beneath to disappear. Ellesime was at her side in an instant, her noble bearing restored with her freedom.

'Oh, thank the gods, the tree is saved! But you are alone?'

'The city is overrun. My companions bought my passage here.'

The woman nodded deeply. 'Their bravery is noted, as is yours, though your task is not over yet. Much of my magics have been drained by Irenicus -I fear I will be of little use to you for now, but he is still a danger to the tree and this city while he lives. I once thought him misguided, but it seems his evil knows no bounds.'

'It is so, but we cannot blame him for that -I blame you.'

Ellesime flushed. 'I? You have heard the tale from Elhan… Believe me, none is more ashamed of this folly than I.'

'Ashamed?'

'And regretful,' the woman added hastily, 'What has happened to you-'

'I'm not even talking about me!' Fritha shrieked, 'Do you have any idea how many lives this has destroyed? Khalid and Dynaheir are dead, but it does not stop there. Countless thieves killed in that guildwar, or, worse still, taken to be part of his experiments; a whole asylum's worth of inmates lie murdered in their cells; the men and women lost fighting to get back that damn lantern, and now here, your own people slaughtered in their city. So many dead and for what? So you could have your revenge!'

'It was not like that!' Ellesime resisted, 'I-'

But Fritha would not let her finish. 'No? You knew the danger he presented –he had brought this entire city to the brink of death!'

'I know this! And the crime called for execution, but I could not bear to. We showed mercy-'

'You took his soul! You don't understand what it is like, the torture of losing yourself day by day!' Fritha gravely shook her head. 'And you dare speak of mercy. Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned. I believe you when you say you could not stand to kill him, but he was your love, his betrayal hurt you personally, and only love could be twisted to something so cruel. I understand it, but I cannot condone it; you are a queen, you should be above such things.'

Ellesime was shaking her head, her expression defiant, though she made no further word in her defence. Fritha sighed.

'Stay here; the palace is crawling with drow –if I fall to Irenicus we are all dead anyway.'

The elf said nothing and Fritha walked on. Her feet knew the way and there was little rush now, the essence leading her unwaveringly to the heart of the tree –once the seat of his triumph, now the site of his ruin.

He was shorter than she had remembered him, only half a head higher than herself, wearing the loose breeches and lightly armoured harness he never seemed to be without. His back was to her, the man staring out across the twisting verdancy of the tree, his bared arms and bald head bearing the raised white welts of countless scars, a mirror to her now, scarred and bloodied from this battle and the many before. This was what it did to you, demanded of you –life without a soul could not be lived, it had to be forged through.

'Irenicus.'

He did not turn.

'I knew you would come, Fritha.'

'You gave me little choice.'

She could hear the weary amusement in his voice –how like her own it sounded.

'You did not come for your soul… you did not even come for vengeance. You came to save them -this city, your companions.' He finally turned to her, his face wearing a look of astounding sadness. 'I know this because your soul is full of mercy.'

He sighed deeply, reaching out to pluck a withered leaf from the branch above, gazing at it a moment in the centre of one sallow, scarred hand, before he let it fall, the breeze taking it away into the canopy.

'The soul is a strange thing. So much had been lost to me in those years without one. I clung at first to my feelings, then to the memories of them, but even they left me in the end and all I had was my despair, my hatred of those who would so torture me, and my power. And then your soul was within. All those memories returned to me, and with them my anger only grew. I had loved her, her and this city both, served them for centuries, and this was how I was to be repaid? My thirst for vengeance grew tenfold, but lately…' He trailed off, letting his eyes drift about them. 'Being back here, within the city, I can recall other feelings… the good I once did here, the pride I took in serving my people. I look now on what I have become, on what I have done to get here and my soul… your soul… your tender, merciful soul… it weeps.'

Fritha swallowed dryly. 'It is not too late to stop this…'

The mage just shook his head.

'It is. The evils I have committed now, the blood I have spilt -it would be as much effort to wade back as it would to go on. There are a thousand steps to Hell. Each one so shallow you bare notice your path downward –it is only when you look back that you see how far you have descended. My experiments began as an act of love. The memory of her was fading each day; it was all I had left and I only wanted to staunch the wound. I began on animals, but how can their souls be compared? I would summon lesser creatures to work on, justified it to myself as my experiments moved on to people, those foolish enough to stumble too close to my stronghold. By the time I was searching for subjects, I no longer cared for those memories lost, all I wanted was vengeance on the city that had destroyed me –vengeance on her. Until, at last, the technique was perfected and I found you.'

'But why me? Why not some other Bhaalspawn?'

Irenicus gave a wild laugh. 'Oh, but the Fates are cruel, godchild! It was to be someone else. How do you think I knew you were in Baldur's Gate? I did not. No, it was that brute, Sarevok who had first drawn my eye. I saw the taint on him immediately, so content he was to drown the Sword Coast in blood. Such hateful power he held! His soul would have been worth all I had strived for… But then he fell. And who could cut so bright a thread, but another godchild?'

Fritha blinked, seeing her that instant behind her eyes, the merry girl she had once been.

'Me…'

Irenicus nodded slowly. 'There are others you know. Bhaal did disperse his essence, but he did not do so evenly. For some it is merely a stain, a dark blot on their soul, never to even be discovered. Others are as Sarevok, driven by lusts beyond their desire, anger beyond their hate. They move even now, gathering power –the strongest of your kind.'

He smiled down at her; it looked almost proud.

'But how much stronger is the one who does not even heed her blood, but who bends it to her will? I knew when I first saw you, the day after midsummer, walking along that street with your sister, bright and happy in your victory even with the dark seed you carried within you, and I knew then that yours was the soul that would sustain me for ten thousand years. And how perfect that another travelled with you for my sister; a pair of siblings to be that final experiment and ensure the procedure was ready.'

Fritha snorted 'Such fraternal love; do you even care she is dead?'

'If Bodhi had killed you in the asylum when I had ordered it, we would not even be in this circumstance!'

'No,' Fritha conceded, 'I suppose not. So how is this to end, Irenicus? You know not both of us can survive this now.'

The mage lifted his chin, defiant of her pronouncement.

'Your soul is merciful, but my will is still my own. I have made my decision and this city will fall!' He laughed as she raised her weapon. 'So you are going to struggle on, even to the last? You owe me much, godchild, I will admit, but I have everything still to fight for -what of you? Is there anything left?'

Fritha nodded, the essence purring in her stomach, the voice whispering at her ear.

'Oh, yes and we will be your end.'

Her sword hit the spell midair, her own magics surging along the blade in an explosion of blue magefire, the girl dodging the blast to follow through with a swing that took first blood. Irenicus spared a glance for his bleeding arm, his look astounded; the essence roared.

Fritha ducked his next, forcing him to block as she lunged for his exposed stomach. She was no longer at war, her will and instinct and essence all one as they fought for his end, the essence surging through every sweep and dodge, the instinct screaming instructions as they fought.

…He's calling a temporal enchantment- rune of impediment, rune of impediment! …Your leg is wounded –take your weight from it –lead in with your left…

She danced to the side, her injured leg slowing her just enough to catch the edge of the blast across her shoulder, the flesh searing, her scream and battle cry as one as she charged. Irenicus's next spell was already building, a glowing sphere of energy between his palms –this would be it.

They met at the moment of release, sword thrust forward as the spell exploded over her. Irenicus stopped, a look of vague surprise on his face as he gazed down at the hilt still sticking from his chest, the blade slipping from him as he keeled over backwards.

Fritha just watched him fall; the glassy void of his eyes told her he was no more and she felt herself swaying. Everything hurt, her arms a mess of burns and blood, chest aching dully where the spell had hit, her mouth wet and cloy with a coppery sweetness. She stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, leaning heavily on her sword before that, too, clattered to the ground. She'd been surviving those last few days on will alone and now…

It was over.

No, petal, please, my lamb, my pet, just hold on. They will find you soon, just hold on…

The world around her was darkening, a soft numbness washing through her limbs as she collapsed next to him. Guilt tugged at the edge of her senses, trying to draw her back to the world, but it was not enough. The relief of an ending, even this one, was all she craved, and Fritha slipped quietly into death.