Chapter 6: The Die is Cast
Ilyrana
The night grew steadily chillier as the half moon trekked across the starry skies. The campfire crackled almost defiantly against the crisp air, aided in its mission to provide heat by the steam rising from the hot springs.
Most of Ilyrana's company was fast asleep, curled up in their furs, enjoying the luxurious feeling of being both clean and warm after a long day of hiking through the rugged terrain. Valygar kept watch atop the nearby granite wall and Keldorn and Sarevok had just taken over Mazzy and Jaheira's watch over the path leading to their secluded camp.
Ilyrana joined her sister at one of the pools furthest from the camp, the only one with a skeletal tree in front that helped screen them from view. Spending so much time on the road meant there was little to no modesty left among them, but opportunities for any semblance of privacy were coveted. After several minutes, and many vehemently sworn expletives, of digging through her Bag of Holding, Ilyrana finally extracted her small chest of soaps, oils, and lotions and set them out along the edge of the pool.
"Alright, fine, I kind of have a thing for Haer'Dalis. Happy?" Imoen blurted out as Ilyrana finished peeling off her soiled clothes.
"I knew it!" Ilyrana exclaimed triumphantly as she quickly lowered herself into the pool. It was too dark for Imoen to see the scars on her thighs, something she had successfully hidden from her and most of the others, but Ilyrana didn't want to chance it.
Groaning as the hot water chased the chill away, she sat down on a seat of rock,the water coming up to her collarbone, and gave her sulky sister a smirk of victory.
"I have no idea why, maybe it's because we argue all the time, I don't know. Or maybe it's the blue hair. His singing voice is kinda nice, too."
Snatching a washcloth, Ilyrana lathered it with her cake of soap and began the laborious task of scrubbing layers of sweat and dirt from her skin.
"Well, I mean, it's been awhile, right? So, get it, girl."
"Yeah, but maybe I'm tired of one-night stands."
"I would be a little worried by now if you weren't."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you're a slut," Ilyrana turned away to avoid getting near-scalding water splashed in her face by an indignant Imoen, "I'm kidding. Seriously, though, you've never actually tried the relationship thing, maybe it's time you do."
"You haven't really either, Rana."
"I'd rather live vicariously through you. That way I get at least some of the enjoyment, but none of the bad sex or the pox."
"I've never had the pox. That was Edwin."
"Whatever. I think you should give the tiefling a chance. A real chance."
"I'll think about it. In the meantime," Imoen grinned, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously, "I admitted I want Haer'Dalis, now it's your turn."
Ilyrana could almost hear the steel jaws of the trap slamming shut around her.
"He's not bad, for a bard, but there's no chemistry there, I'm afraid," Ilyrana said breezily, feigning ignorance.
"Nice try," Imoen replied with a cheshire cat grin on her smug face. "But, I won't let you weasel out of this. Now, are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me ask?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"Uh huh. Alright, we'll do this the hard way."
"Imoen-"
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you aren't attracted to Sarevok."
Gritting her teeth, Ilyrana finished with the washcloth and began angrily working the scented cleansing oil through her unruly mass of hair.
"I'm waiting," Imoen said in a singsong voice, clearly enjoying her sister's irritation, and completely oblivious to just how much turmoil she was causing.
"Yes, he's attractive, even you can't say he's not," Ilyrana growled.
"Hey, I'm not gonna argue that at all, but that's not necessarily what I meant. If I thought you were just appreciating all those rippling muscles, or that deep voice, or the scars and tattoos, I wouldn't be bringing this up at all... but it's more than that."
"You got me. I've always been defenseless in the face of biting sarcasm, taunts, barely veiled threats, and the lack of a conscience. Not to mention our romantic history of upending each other's lives, him nearly killing me, and me actually killing him. Catch me if I swoon."
"Yeah, I totally get the reasons why you shouldn't be attracted to him, but those don't seem to matter all that much to you," Imoen countered, then ignored Ilyrana's outraged snarl and continued, "You two can't seem to stay away from each other, you're both constantly watching the other, I mean, you would think that the last thing either of you would want is to be anywhere near each other, but there's something obviously pulling you to him, and him to you."
"We do share a soul," Ilyrana bit out, her eyes beginning to gleam in the moonlight.
"Oh, don't give me that shit," Imoen snapped. "Tell me I'm wrong about everything I just said. And, don't blame it on the soul thing, 'cause the fact you just handed over a piece of it to him, only a couple of months after getting it back from Irenicus, says a lot already."
"What are you trying to accomplish here, Imoen? Why do you want me to want him? I would think the very idea would piss you off or creep you out."
"I don't want you to want him," Imoen said softly, all traces of teasing gone now. "He's evil. He butchered the man who raised us. He almost took you from me. So, you give him part of your soul? He's brazenly admitted to plotting your death. He watches your every move, waiting for a chance to take his revenge. He tries to bait the others to attack him so he can justify killing them. Yet, he's here with us, a part of our group? Oh, and I know that none of us bhaalspawn are technically related, Bhaal took on tons of different forms when he started fathering us, and you two aren't even the same race, so don't try and make that out to be the issue here."
Ilyrana stared at Imoen, watching the sharp intellect, coupled with the bitterness she had obviously been holding in, bleed through her facade of silliness and mischief. She felt a little stupid, and ashamed, that she thought Imoen wouldn't see through her deflections. It was easy to forget just how clever she was. For most people, becoming a mage took years of study and rigorous mental discipline. For Imoen, she had begun wielding magic just as they left Baldur's Gate, having only studied a fortnight, and never having shown the smallest interest or talent in the years prior, else Gorion would have trained her himself.
Just as before, with Valygar, Ilyrana played with the idea of telling Imoen everything, or close to everything. The thought still made her sick. She felt like a god was giving her these opportunities to unburden herself, and by rejecting them she would end up sorely lamenting it later. Imoen would understand, if she explained her and Sarevok's childhood, and the return of those memories. She would understand now. Later, though? After Ilyrana had the chance to explain, but didn't? She opened her mouth, tasting the words, and found them unpalatable.
Not yet. Please, let there be another chance to explain, cause I just can't do it yet.
"Listen to me, Im. I traded a piece of my soul for information that I required. About the prophecy. I agreed to let Sarevok join us because, at least this way, I can keep him in check. I watch him because I don't trust him, not because I lust after him. I assume he watches me for the same reason. Do I wish he'd wake up and realize he's going to end up right back in the Abyss if he doesn't change? Yes, I do. It would be a waste of that fraction of my soul otherwise. Please, can you stop trying to set me up to admit something I don't feel? I mean, do you really think I would want him after everything he did to me?"
Ilyrana realized how much it sounded like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince her sister. Maybe she was. At least she hadn't lied...exactly. She just left out the parts about them once loving each other as children, their foster father not being the selfless hero everyone thought he was, how she and Sarevok didn't need to hate each other anymore because of the whole memory debacle, and what else? Oh, also downplaying how big of a chunk of her soul that Sarevok had actually taken, half to be exact, completely not mentioning the side effects, like him seeing her dreams, knowing how to find her, sensing her emotions, even gleaning stray thoughts if she wasn't careful. The thin ice that she was already dancing on had to be cracking by now.
"I dunno, maybe I'm taking things out of context, or this situation with Haer'Dalis is coloring how I see things…" Imoen sighed. "I'm sorry. I just…I worry about you, you know? You're the only thing I have in this world, and it feels like everyone is conspiring to take you away, and then BAM! Let's add Sarevok back to that list."
Ilyrana felt her chest tighten with emotion even as her stomach roiled with guilt. She opened her mouth,not exactly sure what to say, but needing to say something, maybe even let Imoen know that there were things she had been hiding, but couldn't speak them yet. Imoen cut her off.
"I don't think you remember much of that last battle between the two of you, or after it. You have no idea what it was like to see you broken like that. No one, not even Irenicus, has come as close to killing you as Sarevok has. He didn't just give you that nasty scar, but you were...I dunno, insane? Afterwards. You couldn't stop screaming and crying, and I had never even seen you cry before. Or since, for that matter."
The darkness must have hidden Ilyrana's face, for surely Imoen would have seen the guilt, and the anguish, on her sister's face? The younger woman took a deep, steadying breath, and pressed on.
"I know you're way too smart to get tangled up with him, and I understand your reasons for bringing him back and letting him tag along. I didn't mean to accuse you like that. It wasn't fair. Forgive me?"
Ilyrana could hardly breathe through the burning in her lungs and throat. Mutely, she nodded, then cleared her throat and made a noise that sounded like an affirmative.
"Thanks, sis. I'ma get out and hit the hay, I'm pooped. Maybe tomorrow I might start working my seduction mojo and see if I can snare a tiefling. See you in the morning!"
Ilyrana mumbled a goodnight and began rinsing her hair, gently working out the snags with her fingers. Her movements were mechanical. She was on autopilot. She knew that one day she would look back on this night and wish she would have had the courage to speak up. To tell her sister, her best friend, what had happened. Not just with Sarevok, but the full extent of what Irenicus had done, too. Somehow, she knew that something had changed tonight. That this moment had been pivotal in some way. That she had failed, and would reap the consequences of her cowardice at some point in the future. Terror accompanied this realization, and she looked up at the silhouette of her sister, who had just finished getting dressed and was about to start heading towards camp. She had to tell her. Had to stop whatever she had set in motion.
"Imoen! Wait, I-"
"I know, Rana. I love you, too," Imoen whispered, then turned and walked away, leaving Ilyrana alone, with only her dread, and guilt, for company.
Sarevok
"Have you considered what we talked about earlier this day?" Sir Keldorn Firecam asked into the darkness, his eyes scanning the moonlit path before him, watching for any signs of trouble.
Sarevok, standing several feet away and leaning against a granite wall, arms crossed across his chest, shot a glare in the direction of the paladin. He had no desire to hear about second chances and righting wrongs, topics the old man seemed rabidly fond of discussing with him.
"No. I am in no mood for your pious speeches tonight, old man. Leave me be."
"You've been on edge all day today, my friend, more so than normal, anyway," Keldorn replied, ignoring the warning in Sarevok's voice.
"Then perhaps you should leave. Me. Be."
"You don't wish to tell me what's eating away at you? I may not be able to help, but sometimes just giving voice to-"
"Why do you think I want your help? That I need your help?" Sarevok snarled, eyes already beginning to glow. "You've been trying for months now to...what? Help me achieve redemption? Why? Does your god demand you try and save every lost soul you come across? Or does your own self-righteousness need to be stroked that badly and that often?"
Gods, how he regretted asking Ilyrana to allow him to join her. At the time, it made perfect sense. He could watch the prophecy unfold, take whatever power he could get ahold of, and exact his vengeance on the girl for everything she had stolen from him. Now, none of that felt worth the suffering he was forced to endure at the hands of his half-sister and her vexing companions.
"Peace, Sarevok. I don't know what's gotten you in such a state...though I'm sure I could rightly guess."
"If that were so, why bother inquiring at all?"
"A formality, really. I'm well aware what the source of these outbursts is. Though, I wish we could stop dancing around it and address it for once."
"Enlighten me, then, paladin. What is the reason behind my rage?"
"It's her. It's always her."
It took a moment to reign in his anger enough not to take the old man's head.
"Careful, Keldorn. I tolerate you better than the other fools, but do not presume it will stay my hand for long."
"Did you know that the Order of the Most Radiant Heart nearly went to war with the Harpers?"
The abrupt change of subject took Sarevok completely off guard. Where had that come from? And what did it have to do with Ilyrana?
"No...what are you getting at?"
"It's a story I think would interest you. If, that is, you're willing to indulge an old man for a time."
Sarevok turned to face where Keldorn was sitting against a fallen tree, hesitated a moment, then stepped closer to him.
"I'm listening."
"About fifteen years ago, those of us in the Order got word that a number of Bhaal-worshipping cults were being attacked by persons unknown. Initially, we didn't think much of these rumors, except perhaps, to raise a toast to the ones laying waste to those heretics."
A chill went through Sarevok. How much did Keldorn know? How much had Ilyrana told him, if anything? And had she heard this story, as well?
"You can imagine our horror when we discovered that the Deathbringers and priests weren't the ones being targeted. Oh, they died, of course, defending their charges, not out of love, or decency, but their twisted devotion to their god. No, it was the bhaalspawn that were being slaughtered. Children. Infants…" The rage broke through the old paladin's calm demeanor, and for a moment, he was unable to continue.
"I don't remember how we found out that members of the Harpers were responsible for the infanticide. It doesn't matter. Our two organizations are similar in some regards, but to us, to me, the ends don't always justify the means."
"They were killing the children before Bhaal died, as was foretold he would, so that, if enough essence was lost by the time that happened, he could not be resurrected. Thus stopping Alaundo's prophecy from coming to pass," Sarevok said, his voice carefully neutral.
"The Lord of Murder shall perish
But in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny
Chaos will be sown from their passing."
Hearing the prophecy still had an effect on him. Still made his pulse quicken, even as it reminded him of what he had lost. Of what could have been.
"By the time we learned of all this, it was too late. All of the known locations of the cults had been wiped out. Many of us wanted to find the hidden ones, to get the children out of there, but most did not. Killing children sickened us all, but there were those who agreed with what the Harpers were trying to accomplish, and while they would not raise their sword to aid them, neither would they raise it to stop them. A schism formed within our ranks, and it was this divide that kept us from rallying together and forcing the Harpers to face retribution."
"Fascinating story, paladin, but why tell it to me?"
Keldorn grew quiet for a time, staring off into the night, eyes unfocused, lost in a memory. Sarevok waited, not out of respect, but because he wasn't entirely sure he wanted the paladin to get to the point of this conversation.
For some reason, the old man had taken an interest in him, to save him from himself, he supposed. As if that were even possible. Or something he desired. The impulse to just leave passed through his mind again. Something that had been happening on a near hourly basis since his talk with Ilyrana. As if he knew that, if he didn't get away from her soon, she would bind him to her even more thoroughly than she already had. Either intentionally or otherwise, though he doubted it would be on purpose, she never seemed to plan anything out at all. Which was infuriatingly unfathomable to him. How she had made it this long, making up absolutely everything as she went along, was a question that often kept him awake. He wanted to attribute it to dumb luck, and though he was positive that was a large part of it, there was just no way it could have carried her this far.
"You were in one of those cults, weren't you?" Keldorn finally asked quietly.
"Yes."
He saw no point in denying it.
"And Ilyrana?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
"Ilyrana has a difficult enough time making it through the present. Asking her to look back would be cruel."
"So, you ask it of me, instead."
"Forgive me if my questions are painful, Sarevok, that is not my intention."
"Then what is your intention, old man?"
"You're right. I am old. I still have a few years of service left in me, Torm willing, before I can retire and hang up my sword. I've witnessed more than most men do in several lifetimes...and yet, I've never seen the hand of fate rest so heavily upon two people as it does on you and Ilyrana."
"We're descended from a god, you fool, of course fate is involved, and you didn't answer my question. What is the point of all of this?"
"When Jaheira speaks of Gorion, she does so with obvious respect and feeling. As does Imoen. Ilyrana, however, avoids speaking of him when possible, and when he is spoken of, she struggles to mask an enormous amount of resentment. Not grief, as I once suspected was the reason behind her refusal to talk about him, but bitterness, and rage."
Sarevok stiffened with surprise. He had assumed Ilyrana's love for Gorion hadn't been tarnished by the return of their memories. The years spent being coddled by him weighed against being rescued from that temple, and only having to sacrifice him, and the awful memories of that place. He had never considered that she would have begun to think of her foster father differently.
"The point of all of this, Sarevok, is I would like to know what happened. I have pieced together some of the story, but not all of it. Ilyrana doesn't handle her past very well, and I cannot blame her for that. She has suffered more than you or I will ever fully know." At this, Sarevok clenched his right hand, remembering the dream.
No, paladin. I do know how much she has suffered. Far better than you.
"I'm asking this of you because I feel as if the information will be needed in the future."
"Did your god tell you this?" Sarevok sneered.
"Yes."
Keldorn's honest, unapologetic reply gave him pause. He considered refusing. It was none of the old man's business, and if he planned on using the information Sarevok provided him to help Ilyrana, then obviously he should withhold it. On the other hand, learning that Gorion no longer held such an esteemed spot in Ilyrana's heart was worth what little Sarevok had already divulged. If he indulged Keldorn's curiosity, perhaps he could gain more leverage.
"Very well, paladin. On one condition."
Keldorn's answering chuckle was unexpected.
"Naturally. I would be disappointed if you obliged me that easily."
"This doesn't leave the two of us. You want to help the girl? Fine. I doubt what I have to tell you will do that, as she already knows this story, but I do not want anyone else to know of it. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Sarevok took a deep breath and considered where to start. Thinking about this, much less saying it aloud, was uncomfortable.
"Judging by the mention of Gorion, and asking if Ilyrana had also been raised in one of the cults, I assume you've already figured it out that she and I were in the same one together."
"Yes, I had guessed so."
As good a place as any to begin.
"Her mother brought her a few months after I arrived there. She was, perhaps, six at the time. Deathbringers had been sent out to find offspring that Bhaal had seeded among common folk and to escort the priestesses who he had chosen to bear his children to the temple."
"Was your mother a priestess?"
"I don't remember what she was. Though, since she was butchered by the Deathbringers when they came for me, I can only assume she was not."
Keldorn made some sound of sympathy, but Sarevok ignored it and continued on.
"Our only purpose was to die at the appropriate time, so we were ignored, for the most part, by the mothers and the rest of the clergy. There were about two dozen of us there at any given time. We regularly had to beg, and fight, for food, and we weren't allowed in the better kept parts of the temple, the only places that were made warm at night."
"Gods, Sarevok, I had no-"
"Save your sympathy. This was a long time ago."
"As you wish," Keldorn replied with a sigh before asking, "Were you and Ilyrana close?"
Sarevok couldn't help but think of her as she had been as a child. So small, with long, wild hair, and big amber eyes. Her face was too exotic for one so young, it would take her years to grow into it. She was equal parts feral and affectionate, agile yet clumsy, clever but with a short attention span. Not unlike a kitten, as he would often tease her. Since that night he had gifted her with the blanket, she was rarely ever gone from his side. Only when her mother, lost in her madness, pulled her away from him would they be parted, and even then it was never for long, as Ilyrana would always steal away to come find him. She was his shadow. And she had been his entire world.
"Yes...we were. I kept her alive and she kept me sane."
Keldorn turned to face him, trying to study his face despite the darkness.
"How long were you there before the Harpers came?"
"I don't remember, exactly. A year perhaps, maybe two."
"And when they did come? What happened then?"
This was perhaps the most vivid of Sarevok's earliest memories. The morning of the raid…
Alianna had taken Rana from him again. Not to deliver her to the High Priest, though, so Sarevok would just wait for her to escape. In the meantime, he had set out to begin procuring food. Preferably for the two of them to have for breakfast, as well as some extra to store in the cloth bag Rana had stolen from one of the altars, that was once used to store linens.
They had begun squirreling away anything valuable, useful, and nonperishable in the hopes of one day escaping this place. One day soon, as Alianna's madness seemed to grow more and more each day now, and the growing number of times she had forcibly taken Rana from him were beginning to become increasingly violent. So much so that, this past time, the woman had shredded her daughter's arm with her nails while pulling the snarling girl out of his grasp. He had ceded the fight the moment he heard Rana's gasp of pain, and saw the blood running down to drip from her elbow.
As Sarevok set out to look for food to steal, never wandering too far away, in case Alianna tried anything and Rana needed him, he went over the promise he made the night before.
One day he would be strong enough to fight off the elven woman, or anyone who tried to take the girl from him. He had vowed it to her, as they lay in their tree, staring up at the stars, with the glow of the foxfire mushrooms lighting her features enough that her expressive face drew his gaze from the panorama of the night sky. She looked at him with eyes full of trust, and mischief, as she poked him in the ribs and reminded him that one day she would be quick enough to never get caught, so his strength would not be needed.
"You will have it all the same." He told her.
"So serious all the time," she chided. "I told you, I'm keeping you. You're stuck with me, so stop worrying so much. I'll always find my way back to you."
"You won't ever have to be away from me if no one can get past me to get you," he countered.
Rana huffed and then bit him in the arm, causing Sarevok to jump and yelp, which caused Rana to curl up in a fit of giggles. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he crushed her against his chest while she wriggled to get free, laughing out apologies in the same breath as hissing out threats if he didn't release her.
If he could just get into the kitchens, or one of the storage cellars, he could snatch enough food for them survive on while they made their way north, where he overheard one of the priests say was a town they regularly got some of their supplies from.
A sharp, echoing scream rent the air, cut off as suddenly as it was voiced. Sarevok froze, listening. It hadn't come from the sleeping chambers where Alianna had taken Rana to, so he crept to the shadows by one of the columns that ringed an entrance to the temple, waiting to see what was going on.
His answer came in the growing thunder of hoofbeats, the twang of bow strings, the thunk of crossbow bolts slamming into flesh and bone. Before he could even try and comprehend what was about to happen, a section of the wall that circled the temple and it's grounds exploded inward, the boom of the fireball that impacted it causing his ears to ring.
Dozens of mounted assailants cleared the debris and began spilling into the temple grounds, the hooves of their chargers sending up clods of grass and dirt into the air, and bringing with them the smell of magics and the clang of steel.
An answering roar sounded from within the temple and around its perimeter as Deathbringers met the attackers, cutting down horse and rider alike with their awesome strength. The priests and priestesses followed behind, blessing their champions with powerful defensive enchantments, and meeting the enemy mages' magics with their own.
In seconds, the surrounding area was unrecognizable. Lightning, summoned by druids, sizzled away the morning mist as it scored the priests and the ground around them. Magic missiles collapsed columns and carved out chunks of the temple walls as warriors ducked to avoid them on both sides. Horses' screams became indistinguishable from humans' as death spells rendered them to ash and stone. The hiss of arrows raining down amid the chaos added to the cacophony of battle.
Sarevok crouched by the column, too afraid to move. Too mesmerized by the carnage to want to. The cries of the babes and the shrieks of the other children pulled him back.
For a brief moment, when he saw the invaders charging to meet the Deathbringers, he had felt a swell of hope that they were here to rescue them. To kill the mothers and the robed priests and take him and Rana away somewhere safe, and warm, and with plenty of food. This fantasy dissipated as quickly as it formed when Sarevok realized that the temple's residents were actually only standing in the way of the real targets for slaughter. When he saw one of his fellow children running out of the temple and away from the melee. When one of the mounted rangers put an arrow clean through her, the girl's body turning into a cloud of golden dust as she died before even hitting the earth.
He had to get to Rana! Staying in the shadows, he began circling the exterior, moving away from the battle, making his way to one of the side doors that would lead him to her. A cry of pain turned his head to see the boy he had once almost killed for a loaf of bread to give to Rana, recognizable because of the scars he had put on his face. The boy was dragging himself along the ground, gripping handfuls of grass to pull his weight forward, his legs useless as they were missing from below his knees.
A spear was driven into the boy's back by a woman in studded leather, then yanked from the ground to shake the dirt and golden dust from it's lethal head. She looked up and locked eyes with Sarevok. Before she could advance on him, a cylindrical shaft of acid slammed into her from the side, knocking her screaming to the ground as it began eating through her armor and skin with equal effectiveness.
Sarevok darted towards the fallen woman, closed his hand around a dagger that had fallen from her belt, and began sprinting towards the side entrance he sought.
"SAREVOK!"
"RANA!? I'M COMING! HOLD ON!"
Rana's scream of panic scared him more than what lay behind him. Running as fast as he possibly could, he headed towards where her shouts seemed to come from, outside the temple, near the back.
As he ran, he saw more gaping holes in the defensive wall, more bodies of fighters on both sides. Whoever the attackers were, they were smart, striking from several different locations, forcing the small number of defenders to spread themselves too thin. He could hear fighting inside the temple, the sound of wooden doors being smashed down, of desperate cries for mercy falling on deaf ears as those too young or too scared to flee were cut down. Butchered just as viciously as the rest.
Up ahead, halfway between the temple and a breach in the wall, he saw her. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to lunge away from her mother's fierce grip, but the woman dragged her down, pinning her to the ground with a knee and an arm as she wrestled to free a knife from her robes. He wanted to scream at Alianna to stop, but he knew her. Knew she would only move faster once she saw him coming for Rana.
A fear so sharp it stole his breath churned inside him as he watched the woman finally free her blade, and begin to position it across Rana's throat, the girl's thrashing growing more desperate as she realized what was about to happen, and that she was helpless to stop it.
"NO ONE ELSE CAN GIVE YOU TO HIM! I BIRTHED YOU! ME! I GET TO BE THE ONE TO GIVE YOU TO HIM!"
"Mother, please! Stop! Don't! Please! MOMMY!"
Sarevok didn't pause to think or gather his strength. There was no summoning of courage or hesitation. As he came up behind Alianna, he brought up the dagger he had taken. Gripping it tightly in one hand, his other shooting out to grab a fistful of tangled black hair and twisting for leverage, he struck as quickly and forcefully as he could. The steel sunk into the side of Alianna's neck.
Shoving the gurgling madwoman aside, he reached down, grabbed Rana's hand and pulled her up. His hand was slick with blood, and she almost fell back down as her fingers nearly slipped out of his.
"We'll go to our tree, our supply stash is there. If we get separated-"
Sarevok was cut off as a roar of pain and denial rang through the air behind them. Spinning around, and pulling Rana behind him to shield her, he saw an older man in gray robes dismount from his horse, eyes wide with horror and locked onto Alianna as she lay curled and dying in the grass.
"GO!" Sarevok yelled as he laced his fingers through Rana's and turned, running for the gap in the wall.
He heard chanting, and then felt magic prickle along his skin, the only warning he was given before two magic missiles slammed into his back and a third one into his knee. The force of the blows drove him into the dirt, knocking the air out of his lungs and pulling Rana down with him.
The pain of his wounds drowned out thought and warped his perception of what was happening around him. He was dimly aware of a man's wracking sobs and Alianna's name murmured mournfully over and over again. Of the elven woman gasping out Rana's name and choking on whatever she was trying to tell the man.
"GET UP! PLEASE! SAREVOK!"
Rana's voice, shrill with fear and desperation, began to rouse him, as it always did. He felt her pulling on his arm, throwing her weight back to try and pull him across the ground.
"I CAN'T MOVE YOU, YOU HAVE TO GET UP! PLEASE!"
Shaking his head to orient himself, he tried to obey. His knee screamed in protest, the agony of planting it beneath him to push up nearly made him black out.
"COME ON! HELP ME! SAREVOK, PLEASE!"
He felt and heard a popping sound as his arm dislocated from Rana's next sudden jerk on it to get him up.
"Ilyrana? Child, leave him. He just murdered your mother," the man's voice broke and he continued with a sob. "I loved her, long ago. I won't leave her daughter in this place. I won't let you be harmed. I swear it. Come to me."
"Rana... don't listen to him...killed the others…" Sarevok rasped, pain slurring his words. "Leave me...run...can't catch you...our tree…"
"I'M NOT LEAVING YOU!" She screamed, the pupils in her eyes blown from terror and rage, blood tracking from a cut in her lip. She looked wild. More animal than child, as she moved to stand between Sarevok and the man, hands half curled, ready to claw, teeth bared, the amber of her eyes beginning to shine with an eerie light.
"No! Rana, listen to me!" Sarevok bit out between clenched teeth. "RUN!"
He watched, helplessly, as the man lunged forward and caught Rana up against his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides. Watched as Rana screamed and snarled, fighting with all of her strength to get away, get back to him. It wasn't enough. Just as his strength hadn't been enough.
Life meant nothing to him without her beside him. A future meant nothing to him without her in it. The old man would have to kill him if he wanted to stop him from coming for her.
Forcing his battered body to move, he began to slowly, agonizingly, push himself up. Gasping against the pain, he staggered to his feet. His knee buckled and he fell back down, screaming as his dislocated shoulder smacked into the earth. Through a blur of tears he saw the man in gray swing up into the saddle of his horse, still struggling to hold an enraged Rana.
Baring his teeth, he again pushed himself up, tears falling down his face from the pain. It was nothing compared to losing her, though, he knew that, and that knowledge got him vertical, stumbling as he kept most of his weight on one leg.
"I loved her, boy," the old man hissed. "This is why your unnatural breed of hellspawn needs to be eradicated. Purged from this realm, just as your unholy father will be. As he will remain."
Sarevok ignored the speech, uncaring what the bastard thought. Shambling forward, he slowly began making his way towards them, Rana's strange, beautiful, glowing eyes were like a beacon calling him home.
"I loved her," the man said again, this time raising his free hand as his fingers began tracing symbols of purple light in the air. "Death would be a kindness to you wouldn't it? A cessation of your suffering that you DO NOT deserve. In some twisted way you care for Ilyrana, I can see that. And she misguidedly cares for you."
The symbols glowed brighter, outshining Rana's eyes now.
Sarevok took another step closer.
She was his.
So many whispered oaths bound them together.
She was his.
Pain meant nothing.
The man meant nothing.
Rana was everything.
SHE WAS HIS.
"I won't end your pain, boy, and you won't leave her be, so this is the only way to resolve this."
The purple of the sigils burned white now, and Sarevok's eyes began to glow as well, locked onto Rana, willing his body to keep moving forward.
"You will forget her. Her name. Her face. Her voice. Every memory associated with her will be wiped away."
An insane laugh escaped Sarevok's throat.
"Never," he hissed.
"But, your yearning for her will not diminish. You will want something that you will not ever remember. Searching for something as intangible as smoke, until the need drives you mad. You will forget her. You will never see her again, even if you lay your eyes on her once more, you will not know her."
"NEVER!"
"SAREVOK, I'LL FIND YOU!" Rana screamed, trying to sink her teeth into any part of the old man that she could reach, desperate to get to him, tears streaming down her face.
"You will forget her..." the old man repeated a final time, the blazing runes winking out, leaving black spots dancing in his vision.
"...and she will forget you."