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[Shadowhawke]

[Thursday 5/2/04]
[Not really all that sentimental? right? Well, sorry if it is. It wasn?t intended to be! Just one of those ?in between? explaining sections. Boring, but needed.
Enjoy? if you can! ]


Cyreth tried vainly to sleep, but sleep eluded her. In the end, she gave up, and with catlike grace, she shifted easily out of her sleeping bag. Adjusting her original position, she sat on her bedroll, and shuddered.
Black memories of the shadow fire and the burning assaulted her with fervor at every second possible. She knew that to think deeply about it was to invite another attack, but she could not help it.
Her eyes ranged to the sleeping forms besides her. Imoen and Aran, fitted snugly in one another?s arms, were thoroughly baffling her. She scowled into the dripping darkness. Only Dirk and herself had been affected before. Why these two as well, now? And would everyone else follow suit? The thought was almost too torturous to bear; all nine of them rolling around on the ground in excruciating agony, helpless to do anything while enemies closed in.

?Cyreth, you should get some sleep.?

?I told you only a few days ago? Gods, it seems like a lifetime ago, to stop surprising me, remember?? Cyreth smiled sardonically. ?I?m beginning to think that that will never happen.?

?My apologies, my lady,? grinned Dirk as he moved silently to sit next to her on the bedroll. ?But you should get some sleep.?

?How about you??

?I?m on last watch, remember??

?Sorry. Yeah, I remember. That means we?re going to have to get going quite soon.?

?We?ve still got about an hour,? Dirk disagreed. ?You should get some sleep.?

?I would if I could. How about you got to sleep and I take over the watch??

?If thou art gifting mine heart a choice, mine lady, between sweet sleep and reveling in thine company, it is thine company I must undoubtedly choose. Mine heart could not decide otherwise.?

?Nor could mine,? Cyreth sighed, wreathing herself in the mists of Dirk?s crystal-clear gaze. ?Nor could mine.?


They stayed silent for a while, drinking in the other?s warmth and love. But when a cold gust of wind that came from nowhere hit Cyreth in full blast, and she shivered, Dirk finally spoke again.

?Are you? have you recovered from yesterday??

?Physically, no. Mentally, yes. This is getting a lot harder to bear, Dirk,? Cyreth hugged her knees. ?And I don?t know why Imoen and Aran are getting struck by it any more than I know why we are.?

?And you?re afraid the others will be affected as well,? Dirk murmured.

?Yes, I am,? Cyreth confessed. ?First us two, then Imoen and Aran? whose to say if everyone else won?t follow??

?We?ll work something out,? Dirk assured her. ?For now, though, I think only us four will be affected.?

?Why do you say that??

?Atheriel has the closest links to us, that?s why,? Dirk?s voice suddenly became serious. ?She?s been with me the longest, and she hit Aran with that magical blade.?

?What about Imoen and I, then??

Dirk exhaled. ?I?m thinking that your heritage??

?I?m a Bhaalspawn,? Cyreth summed it up easily, no hesitation or tremor in her voice. ?And so is Imoen. I see, now. So that?s why she?s picking on the four of us.?

?You?re calm,? Dirk noted.

?I?ve come to terms with being a Bhaalspawn. I won?t ever be able to change it. Not even the Solar or any of the Gods could change it. I might as well accept it.?


Halren ran a hand down the oak and sighed. The rough, yet silken smooth bark caressed his palm, and he felt infinitely at peace? or he would if he wasn?t in turmoil still inside.
Phandar Silver must be made to understand. And he only hoped that his son would prove to be less difficult.
Little did he know what was going on at just that moment in the Silvers' estate.


?Will you go, father?? Dirk asked eagerly. ?It isn?t too late!?

?No, Dirk,? Phandar told him coldly. ?I will not.?

Dirk stare at his strong-headed father in a mixture of anger and confusion.
?We have a gift, father. A gift that is meant to be used. And we will use it, no matter what we as individuals desire.?

?There is no will about it, Dirk,? Phandar turned away from him. ?I will not go and take the training, and you will not either.?

?No, I will go,? Dirk stated.
Phandar spun around, and glared into his son?s eyes. Sapphire met sapphire in a roiling clash, neither of them wanting to back down.

?I will go because I have to,? Dirk met his father?s burning gaze calmly. ?And you will find that you will use the gift in your life, whether you like it or not, and whether you?ve had the training or not.?

?No, I won?t,? Phandar disagreed.

?Yes you will,? Dirk reiterated. ?Our very blood is blessed by them. We cannot escape it. We cannot change it. Even the Gods cannot change it. Is it not better to accept the gift our lineage brings??

?It is no gift,? Phandar spat. ?It is a curse, a curse unasked for.?

?Life can be a curse just as it can be a gift,? Dirk retorted. ?You only have to look at it differently. I?m going.?

?Then you are no longer my son,? Phandar flamed with icy composure.

Dirk froze, color draining from his face as Phandar?s words hit him.

?So be it.?


?Dirk??

Dirk shuddered back into the real world, back into the darkness of the Order?s grimly changed building.
?Sorry, did I miss something??

?No, you just looked frozen? so far away.?

?I was right here? but I am still starting to remember things that I?ve forgotten,? Dirk?s face was creased with pain.

Instinctively, Cyreth reached forwards and enfolded him in her arms. ?What things?? she inquired gently.

?I had a fight with my father. He was refusing to take the training, yet I insisted I go,? Dirk closed his eyes as the pain of rejection hit him anew. ?He disowned me as a son.?

Cyreth?s eyes widened. ?But??

?Just before he died, he reclaimed me again, for he had finally realized and accepted. But too late? too late!?

Cyreth felt the gentle wetness as Dirk wept on her shoulder like any young child, and her heart melted as she gently crooned to him the words of a song that had flown into her mind.


At last, hiccupping, Dirk pushed away from her. ?I never cried about it,? Dirk disclosed somberly. ?I never did. Thank you.?

?Stop thanking me, Dirk. We?re in this together.?

?I am glad you are with me,? Dirk replied softly.

?As am I.?


The rest of the hour passed by too quickly, and before long, the two, wrapped in each other?s arms, were startled by Imoen?s hearty laugh.

?Hah! I knew it!?

?You know everything,? Dirk groaned as he turned to face the pink haired, grinning thief.

?I could say the same of you,? retorted Imoen.

?Well?? Dirk tried defensively.

?Give up, Dirk,? laughed Cyreth, gently removing his arm and standing up.

?Thanks,? Dirk pretended offense. ?And I thought you were on my side!?

?In that particular argument, never,? grinned Cyreth as she walked over to one of the packs, rummaging around for the bread, cheese and fruit that they had bought just before they?d entered the order.


?Well, what are we going to do?? Imoen asked restlessly as she finished her breakfast way before Keldorn managed to creak into his armor.

?Atheriel is still in here,? Cyreth clenched her fist as she looked into the darkness. ?And the Order has no chance of surviving if she?s still here.?

?The Order?s dead,? snorted Aran bluntly. ?You think any knights would have been left alive??

Keldorn winced, and was about to reply, but Jaheira got there first.

?There is a chance that some of the knights are alive,? Jaheira interjected. ?Not much of one, but there is a chance. Vampires like fresh blood, after all,? she reminded them coolly.

Aerie shuddered. ?Where would they be kept, then??

?Most likely in the cells as well,? Keldorn answered.

?But were we not in the cells yesterday?? Minsc asked.

?Yes, we were. But the area where the cells are is as large as the Order is, only it?s underground.?

Imoen whistled. ?Why would you need so many cells??

?It is the Order,? Maria replied before Keldorn could, talking for the first time since her last words with Atheriel. ?They deal with all manner of evil? from lowly goblins and gibberlings to trolls and ogres and city villains. They need cells to keep them all in.?

?Yes,? admitted Keldorn. ?Although that is not usually our way. The goblins and gibberlings we usually are forced to slay, for they come at us in waves.?

?But what of the others?? Cyreth inquired. ?The tan?narri and the demons, what do you do with them??

?We usually kill them on sight,? Keldorn told her firmly. ?They are evil. Only sometimes do we imprison them in special cells? and only at great need.?

?Great need?? mused Dirk. ?What would that be??

Keldorn was about to reply, when Imoen cut him off.

?Well, are we going to go to the cells or not?? asked Imoen, impatiently eying all of them. ?After all, we?re all done, right??

?You are, but I?m not,? Keldorn chuckled as he reached for another piece of bread.


?Do not speak ill of the Order,? Keldorn snapped as Aran opened his mouth to make yet another critical comment. ?We imprison those we must imprison and are a danger to society!?

?But how long do you imprison them for?? Aran argued.

?For as long as they need to be rehabilitated.?

?And that would be?? Aran asked sardonically.

?As long as they need to be,? Keldorn replied stubbornly.

?Keldorn, my friend,? Aran sighed, shaking his head. ?For a paladin and a master thief to be this close is against the law. But there are still things that we see differently.?

?What do you mean?? questioned Keldorn guardedly.

?Look at it this way. In my Thieves? Guild, we never imprison those who have spoken against us.?

Keldorn flushed angrily. ?Those who speak against us are evil, and we do not imprison them on the basis that they speak evil of us!?

?And the Shadow Thieves do not imprison people for more than a week? no matter how evil they are.?

?That is because you kill them,? Keldorn snorted.

?Is death not preferable to spending the rest of your life imprisoned? I would rather die than ever be imprisoned again!?

Aran?s face personified anger at the last sentence; anger and despair. ?Do you know what it feels like, paladin? To be entrapped underneath the ground and no way to get out? To see nothing but smooth material that defeats your every attack? To know that you might never see your loved ones again, and spend the rest of your endless days alone? To feel the minutes tick past like hours, knowing that you could remain here until the ends of the earth?! I would die a million deaths rather than face that again!?


Keldorn stopped, and caught his breath as the thief finished ranting.
?I?m? I?m sorry,? he apologized. ?I had forgotten.?

?Well I hadn?t,? Aran snapped.

?Forgive me,? the paladin asked simply.

Aran?s face underwent a multitude of expressions, and then finally sighed. ?You?re forgiven, Keldorn. I don?t know what came over me.?

?Nor I, me,? Keldorn shrugged. ?It is true that the Order is harsh when dealing with evil. But that does not make it inherently evil itself.?

?I think that there are no clear boundaries on good and evil, Keldorn,? Dirk murmured. ?I think that there never were. They have always been blurred together.?

?Why do you say that?? queried Jaheira intently.

?Cyreth, by nature, should be inherently evil. Imoen as well. But are they actually evil? No. They are the most? righteous force of good I have seen in a long time.?

?You remember?? Aerie inquired.

?I remember.?

[Shadowhawke]

Chapter 9

[Thursday 5/2/2004]
[Hehe, almost no homework! I can actually write! Many thanks for everyone's continuing support!
Enjoy? ;D]


The faint cry of a human made them start, and then run towards the source. The burning torches lighting the way, they tripped, slid, and stumbled their way over.

?Keldorn!? the cry came weakly, a brilliant, sudden flash of hope. ?Keldorn!?

Keldorn looked down at the knight in horror. ?Jantar? Jantar, is that you?!?

He looked full into the darkness of the cell and barely stopped himself from exclaiming.

Row upon row of knights sat or stood listlessly in the wide cell, squashed in like sardines in a can, Cyreth thought with shock and revulsion. The deadness and despair that was painted across all of their eyes had been banished by the arrival of the legendary Keldorn.

?Jantar,? Keldorn cried again, moving forth to kneel down next to his friend. ?Who has done this to you?!?

?I would have thought that would be obvious,? muttered Aran in the background, before Cyreth gave him a hard look and then turned to the knights.

?Tell us everything since Keldorn has left,? she demanded quietly.

And they did.

Every last thing that they had overheard from their vampire captors.


Cyreth swore, cursed, and then swore again. Every single member of her party stared at her in amazement as she related epithets that had been used over a thousand years ago, and even more that had been nonexistent until they had passed her lips. Even staunch Keldorn blanched slightly at her prolific invective.
When she had finally calmed, Jaheira cleared her throat.

?So now what??

?First, we budge this lock,? Imoen, shaking with anger, made her way over and contemptuously smashed the lock with a bolt of magic. When that didn?t work, she sighed and rummaged for her lockpick. But as she inserted it in, with a stream of magical energy, it incinerated the metal, and nearly her arm as well.

?It is hopeless,? groaned one of the knights. ?We?re all going to die!?

?You should be ashamed of yourself,? Keldorn rumbled. ?Knights and Paladins of Torm do not talk thus!?

The knight looked half defiantly, half contritely at Keldorn. ?What has Torm done to save us and those already taken from this fate?? he asked bitterly.

?He?s sent us, for one thing,? snorted Jaheira. ?And we will get you out. We just need to find the key.?

?Easier said than done,? mumbled one of the knights.

?Easier done than said!? corrected Minsc, laughing. ?Minsc and Boo and Cyreth will make sure this time that the boot of justice is permanently rammed up the backside of evil!?

A few of the knights looked slightly heartened by his assurance, while others looked at him as if he was crazy. But he continued on, nonetheless.

?It is but a simple matter. All we have to do is find the key, free you, and then give evil a good shaking and then make them clean up!?

Jantar gave a shaky laugh. ?You make it sound so easy.?

?It is!?

?Yeah,? Cyreth agreed, all the conviction she could muster strong in her voice. ?And we?re going to do it!?

A half-hearted cheer swelled to an ovation as the knights picked up the indomitable spirit and courage of the nine. It was an irrepressible grin that Imoen flashed at Cyreth, an irrepressible grin with all the hope that they had received in return.


Cyreth was still grinning back at Imoen foolishly when Dirk drew her aside.

?We?ve got their hopes up,? he whispered quietly. ?Now what??

?I have no idea,? Cyreth murmured frankly. ?What do you think??

Dirk laughed softly. ?Aren?t you the almighty leader making all the decisions??

?Thanks,? Cyreth muttered dryly. ?But I need suggestions.?

?Leave Maria, Keldorn, Minsc, Jaheira and Aerie with the knights,? Dirk offered seriously. ?Aran, Imoen, you and I go on.?

Cyreth?s jaw dropped. ?Are you serious?! If Atheriel gets us with that shadow fire trick, we?re dead!?

?I don?t know what else,? Dirk shrugged. ?We don?t want the knights to be harmed again, or else they?ll lose hope. Minsc has given them hope, so he can stay with them. Jaheira and Aerie can tend to their wounds through the bars. Keldorn, they know, and Maria will most likely want to stay with him.?

?Has she said anything to you yet??

?Why are you asking me? If she would talk to anyone, it would be to Keldorn or you.?

?People just instinctively trust you,? Cyreth explained haltingly. ?I would think she wouldn?t talk about it with Keldorn unless he demanded it.?

?Perhaps,? murmured Dirk thoughtfully.


The young girl peered at her reflection in the sparkling fountain waters, gazing at her face in the clear mirror. Whispering tresses of hair lay gracefully on her slender shoulders, waving gently in the breeze. The peace and secluded nature of this place enticed her, and yet contrasted fiercely with her naturally fiery temperament.
She could taste the life here; breathe in the serenity. She watched as a young swallow tried its wings from a tree, and toppled to the ground, flailing helplessly.
In a flash, she was there by its side as the mother bird hopped agitatedly from above. Gathering it up tenderly in her hands, she ran into the building, calling for a healer.
?Please, sir,? she cried at a passing priest. ?He?s hurt!?

The priest looked non-commitedly over at her, and then sighed, smiled gently, and walked over. A touch of blue magic, and the young bird?s broken wing was healed again.

?Oh thank you sir!? she cried, letting the bird fly free out of the building. ?Thank you so much!?

?You are a good girl,? the priest smiled. ?You will make a good priest.?

?I?m not sure if I want to be a priest, though, sir,? she admitted contritely.

?You are so very caring,? he reached down to ruffle her hair. ?Run along now to your classes. You will make a good priest.?

?I?ll study hard, sir,? she smiled happily.

?There?s a good girl,? the priest called after her as she vanished into the corridor.


Her mind wandered as she thought back to the afternoon. She smiled angelically up at the priest who was teaching her, eagerly awaiting the lesson. She knew that they would learn Cure Light Wounds today. She so wanted to learn it? the young bird might fall again, and then she could Cure it herself!
She hugged herself at the thought. When she became a fully-fledged priest, she would be able to do so much more? now she was just a four year old. Later, she would be able to help! Really help!
And what had the Priest said? That she would make a good priest? Her radiant smile at the thought sent sunbeams bouncing all over the classroom.


She was looking in the fountain again. Her face had still not lost its serious chubbiness; she was still only four. But in six and a half months? time, she would be five! She was slowly counting down the days as she thought of what she would do on her birthday.
A swallow flitted over her head and landed on her shoulder. She turned her head slowly and smiled happily. Her little friend had learned to fly, and his mother no longer hopped around agitatedly whenever she came near. Instead, the mother treated her almost as a friend.
She broke a bit of bread off the hunk that she had been given at lunch, and scattered the crumbs on the ground, watching as the birds swooped down and picked up the tiny breadcrumbs, chirping their thanks. Laughing, she watched them soar away.


The silhouette of the clouds above made the fountain water slightly misty. She sighed, and dipped her hand in the water, trailing her fingers through the cool moisture, shuddering in delight as it brought small relief from the sun.
It was quite warm, today, she noted. It would probably be warm for the rest of the week. She hoped so. That would mean she would be able to spend more time with the swallows outside, drinking in the sun, and playing with the water.


She looked at the mouse with compassion. Thin and feeble, it was moving across the courtyard slowly, limping, hopelessly foraging for the tiniest mite of food.
She felt a tug of compassion. Before she had come, she too had always been hungry. Had always foraged in the rubbish the rich had thrown carelessly away.
She gave it half of her lunch, and then followed the mouse back to its nest stealthily. Wonderingly, her eyes lit up as she saw a whole family in the close woven basket, all squeaking in a concerto to her ears. She willingly gave up the rest of her bread, watching the mice eat with fascination.
Then she noticed a small cut on the mother mouse?s side. That must have been why she was limping, she reasoned. Without a second thought, she cast Cure Light Wounds.
She laughed for joy as the wound healed, feeling needed.


She remembered the days of snow. It would not be long before the winter chill would bite into her home again. She shivered in anticipation. She did so love playing with the snow? but her swallows seemed to disappear then. She thought it was because of the cold. Truly, any animal that did not wrap up in clothes like she did when she played in the misty flakes would be cold, she reflected.
The fire in the dormitory was burning low, so she slipped gracefully over and struggled to put another log on. She was about to give up, when another hand pushed the log into the fire with her.
?Thanks,? she smiled shyly.


She hit the wall in anger and strode away. Memories were no good now. Her dreams were all gone.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 05 May 2004 - 07:59 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

[Friday 6/2/2004]
[Hate, hate, hate, homework!!! One of my friends believes that anything we can?t learn in school shouldn?t be learnt at all, and while I?m of two minds of that, I have to say that I would happily go back in time and punish the first guy who decided to OVERLOAD people with homework? it seems to be a trend amongst teachers, now. Ah well. Still a bit of time to write, albeit only at like, 10:00 at night, but I?ll shut up now. Enjoy!]


?Suicide,? Imoen summed up grimly.

Dirk gave a pained look that was partly because of his sprained ankle, and partly because of her words. ?It?s not suicide?? he trailed off hesitantly.

?It seems to me, Dirk, that if it?s not suicide, it?s something close,? Aran laughed casually, although his voice carried a hint of grim truth underlying the humor.

?I have to agree,? Cyreth half-smiled half-cursed as she almost suffered Dirk?s fate as she slipped on a stone. ?We have no healers with us. You?re stuck with a sprained ankle, now, and we most likely all will be as well. And we?ll probably be stuck with then until we make it back? if we ever make it back.?

?Pessimist,? accused Imoen.

Cyreth chuckled. ?Weren?t you the one who said it was suicide??

?Would you rather me say 100% failure rate, if it sounds brighter??

?That?s up to you, Immy,? Cyreth shrugged, still smiling. ?You?re the self-proclaimed optimist, not me.?

?Well, how about this? We?ve got much greater chance of dying than living, but if we do die, we?ll give whoever killed us hell before we do!?

?That?s optimism for you,? grinned Aran.

?Great optimism,? agreed Dirk, before wincing lightly.

?Will you just let Imoen and I look at it?? Cyreth half-demanded, irritated by his stubbornness. ?We?re no priests, but we can cast a few things??

?Thanks to your father,? Dirk finished for her. ?I know. But save your spells for if we need them.?

?Three pessimists,? scowled Imoen.

?Count yourself as one of them,? Dirk laughed. ?You didn?t sound all that optimistic back then. Besides, I said if, not when.?

?Still,? Imoen pouted.

?Now that?s the first time I?ve seen a pout on that beautiful face,? Aran noted. ?Turn it into a smile? it makes you even more beautiful? if that?s possible.?

Imoen groaned, but smiled anyway, not able to resist. ?You should take lessons?? she glared at Dirk as well. ?You should both take lessons on how to flirt with a girl.?

?I think the most important thing right now is for us to live through this whole damn thing,? Cyreth exhaled. ?They can take the lessons after.?


?Maria?? Keldorn asked softly. ?Is everything okay? You have not spoken since? for a long time.?

Maria smiled wanly as Keldorn came up behind her. ?You?ve grown more observant since we?ve first married, my husband.?

?It is hard not to,? Keldorn chuckled. ?Now eat something; you haven?t eaten that much either.?

?I?m not hungry,? Maria waved the plate of food away resignedly. ?For food, at least.?

?What are you hungry for, love??

?You have definitely changed,? Maria laughed softly, changing the subject abruptly.

?For the better, I think,? Keldorn sat down besides her on the cold stone. ?Do you want to talk??

Maria turned, and suddenly embraced him. ?Oh, I do love you Keldorn!? she exclaimed, her face buried in his shoulder.

?I?m glad,? Keldorn replied gently, taking her in his arms.

?I?m not,? hissed someone from the shadows.


?Atheriel might not have the keys, you know,? Aran mentioned after a while of slipping in the dark. ?Any one of the millions of vampires that are in this unholy place could. Ironic, really.?

?What?s so ironic?? queried Cyreth.

?This place. Holy. Unholy. You know,? Aran fumbled around.

?Yeah, we know,? Imoen said seriously. ?And we?d better return it to it?s holy state quite quickly? and get to the bottom of all of this muck.?


?Atheriel.?

?Have you made your decision, Maria??

?What do you think; if you know me so well??

?I never said I was a mind-reader,? shrugged Atheriel languorously.

?What do you want with my wife, fiend?? Keldorn asked quietly, standing up and slowly drawing Carsomyr.

?What do I want?? Atheriel twisted the words around her mouth, and finally spat it out with her long fangs. ?I want revenge!?


She looked up at the now fully grown swallow on her shoulder and relaxed, easing her backbone vertebrae by vertebrae into the warm stone of the fountain. She was five years old. One year less until she could become a fully-fledged priest! One year closer to achieving that goal?
The sparrow chirped anxiously at her shoulder, and then flew for its life as a cat appeared from the bushes and leapt at it. Startled, she sat up and stopped the cat in its tracks.
?Don?t hurt my friend,? she admonished seriously, giving it a slight pat on the nose. ?Be a good girl.?

There was a concerned call from the other side of the fountain. ?Careful, she might scratch!?

?How do you know it?s a she??

?I don?t. Is it??

?I don?t really want to check?? she squirmed, before realizing the cat had vanished anyway, female or male.

?You love the outdoors, don?t you??

?Of course! I?m going to be an adventurer when I grow up!?

?So am I!?

?But I thought you were going to be a monk or a cleric??

?I?m still thinking.?

?There?s plenty of time yet,? a quiet voice from the other side of the building told them.

A priest emerged from within the foliage, looking at the two girls with amusement. ?Plenty of time yet,? he repeated. ?You are both very young.?

?No we?re not!? cried one of them. ?We?re five!?

The priest laughed. ?Perhaps not so young as I thought, and with great aspirations!?

?Aspirations?? she rolled the word around in her mouth, pronouncing it perfectly.

?Never mind,? the priest laughed again. ?I?ve been sent to remind you that it is mid meal.?

?It?s noon already?!?

?Yes,? the priest confirmed. ?You?d best head inside.

He watched the two of them go, arm in arm, to lunch.


All of them felt it at the same time, though with different methods. Aran?s sense of self-preservation, Cyreth?s well-honed instincts, Imoen?s sensitive ears, and Dirk?s intuition and uncanny sixth sense all made them freeze at the same time.
Instantaneously, Imoen had stoneskin up? just in time to almost crack the vampire?s fangs in half as she snarled and leapt for her throat from behind. Shouting with rage, fear, and anger, Aran drew Shadows and lunged, the one thought in his mind to protect Imoen.
As Imoen?s skins were used up one by one, she frantically began casting spells in an effort to ward off the frenzied attackers.

?Sharks,? Cyreth muttered fiercely as she impaled a vampire with her sword, feeling it melt into its gaseous form through the blade.

?What do you mean?? shouted Dirk over the hissing, shrieking and screaming emitting from the vampires as they attacked.

?Frenzied by blood,? Cyreth spat, as she slashed another one over her too perfect face, drawing an inhuman scream.

?We are not animals,? hissed a vampire as she clawed Cyreth?s arm in return.

?You?ve the intelligence of one,? Aran retorted as he suffered a festering blow to his shoulder. ?And that insults all animals everywhere.?

?You are nothing but fresh food for the taking!? shrieked another hysterically as she was brutally smashed back by recurring Melf?s Minute Meteors. ?You are lower than livestock!?

?Our blood?s better though, isn?t it?? snarled Dirk, plunging Starmorn into a vampiric heart? truly killing it. Silver fire glanced off the edges as the vampire vanished with a shriek, and for an instant, the sword bathed the whole room in a gentle light.

One of the vampires hissed in shock as the blade?s fire burned down to once again leave a normal-looking sword in Dirk?s left hand. ?It is them!?

?Yeah, it?s us,? Imoen grinned. ?Didn?t you realize that??

But she was talking to no-one? for they had melted into the shadows as suddenly as they had come.

[Shadowhawke]

[Sunday 8/2/2004]
[Sorry I haven?t posted for a bit. I?ve been looking back at my old posts and wondering why I exchanged quality for quantity, so apologies everywhere. I?ll fix those up later.
Enjoy this section, though.]


Atheriel was about to sink her fangs into the exposed part of Keldorn?s neck as he and Maria vainly tried to pull the vampire off him, when Minsc barreled from nowhere, and the point of Gram and the force and velocity behind it carried her off to land with an unceremonious thump on the cold stone floor.
About twenty meters away.
?You have led me the right way again, Boo!? Minsc declared triumphantly.

?My thanks, Minsc!? Keldorn gasped, already feeling feverish from the long gouges Atheriel had scraped in his arms.

Atheriel snarled, and leapt up from where she had fallen, reaching out for Minsc?s neck. Nimbly, the ranger dodged, but not before one of Atheriel?s nails elongated to scrape the base of his throat.


Aerie let a golden tear trickle down her cheek as she walked away, her heart heavy, leaving Jaheira to bear the brunt of about fifty wounded knights. Jaheira?s curt order to leave, get some rest, and cry it off, had been received with helpless, guilty acceptance, and admittedly, some half-dead protests that had been waved brusquely off.

The guilt part of it had been natural. Aerie had not wanted to leave Jaheira to tend to the knights alone. It was too large a workload.
But she knew that the fires of memories that were burning inside had to be dampened and extinguished? or at least inspected to check that they were not inherently destructive? as Aerie feared.

Of the many things the gentle Avariel hated, slavery was one of them. The reasons for that were so abundantly clear Aerie didn?t even bother thinking about them. She knew them unconsciously. She could still remember the feel of the air rushing through her trembling locks as she swooped down to rescue that little boy, the searing agony of having her wings torn off, the laughs and jeers and the treatment? how they had treated her as a prize.
She hated slavery.
Vampires were another thing she loathed, although perhaps not so much a ?thing?. Their careless taunts had always brought fire and tears? both choking her as much as the smoke the fire came with.
But the men? the knights? they had been reduced to less than slaves. Simply a larder waiting to be emptied? containers for fresh blood.
Aerie shuddered at the thought. It was horrible? despicable?
And the marks some of those knights bore! The vampires they had faced so far in here? save Atheriel? had clearly been normal vampires. But those that had faced the knights? had been powerful enough to?

Aerie consciously fought to stop herself from disintegrating under a mixture of horror, pity? and other things she could not describe. She blinked away a tear bitterly. So many things she could not describe?
Her head snapped up. This new feeling that had suddenly exploded on her, she could describe.
As she picked up her mage robes and ran, the feeling beat in her head, her bloodstream, her heart; so she could describe it.
Fear.


?You think this was intended?!? Dirk yelled over the chaos of the battle through gritted teeth.

?Yes!? cried Imoen back, as another stoneskin flashed up, half-breaking another fang.

?Well, it wasn?t!?

?Oh really? So you were just planning to wander around until we bashed into Atheriel, and then grab the key off her, resulting in this anyway?

?Oh shut up,? Dirk moaned. ?You?ve been going on like this for about??

?A minute, fifty-three seconds,? Cyreth promptly informed him.

Dirk shook his head incredulously. ?You actually timed it??

?It?s a thing we?d do in Candlekeep,? Cyreth and Imoen shot each other grins.

?What, time each other on how long it took them to annoy someone?? Aran inquired curiously.

?Yep! Whoever took the shortest time won!?

?Who won the most often?? Aran continued inquisitively.

?Imoen did,? Cyreth muttered disgustedly. ?By one measly second!?

?It took you twenty-seven seconds to start to annoy old Winthrop Puff-guts,? Imoen chortled.

?It took you twenty-six,? Cyreth retorted.

Imoen was about to reply when another vampire fang was cracked on the fading skins of stone.

?Dear Gods, Imoen,? laughed Aran as he plunged Shadows deep into cold blue flesh again. ?The dentists? bills will be huge!?

?That?s if the dentists survive the session,? Cyreth chuckled, and then gasped as a vampire leapt at her, stumbled, and missed her throat but sank deep into her shoulder.


Minsc, Keldorn and Maria leapt back and forth in a continuous wave, each attack complimenting the others. Moving sometimes almost as one, they succeeded in at least holding the spitting, powerful vampire at bay.
Keldorn swung Carsomyr back in front of his face quickly as Atheriel superhumanly recovered from dodging the previous swing and swung her deadly talons again. They met with a solid clang on Carsomyr?s shining blade, and Atheriel spat in pain and fury, drawing her claws back quickly before they were half burnt off by Carsomyr?s holy flame.
There was no conversation. No banter. No taunts and threats. Atheriel steadily refused to direct her dead, burning ivory eyes anywhere but Maria?s own lavender ones. Maria, however, was trying just as hard to look at anything except for the vampire. Even the wall behind her. Even into thin air. Anything except for Atheriel.

Atheriel felt the most passionate emotions she could, being dead. She glared at Maria with the closest approximation the vampire could feel of love tinged and poisoned with hate. The shadow fire that gave her strength burned eternally in her eyes, the one sight of life in the madness of her pupils.

Why was she feeling this? She asked herself absentmindedly, yet strongly. Why was she like this? She was dead. She had renounced everything. Why was she suffering so much every time Maria did not look into her eyes, did anything to not look into her eyes, even leave herself wide open for attack.
Atheriel bit her cold tongue lightly. It was as if Maria wanted to die.


Ice struck deep into warm living flesh. A heart-rending scream mingled with the bitter-sweet sounds of a vampire shrieking its polyphonic triumph. Sweat responded to the viscous poison already finding its way into her heart. Bursting through olive skin, soaring from an open mouth. Screams. Shrieks. Pain. Utter agony amongst a myriad of strange colors that she had never seen before, never known existed. Frost spread out from the single shaft of frozen cold, threatening the fire that burnt inside to keep life bound to the light, metaphysical body.

The vampires melted into the shadows as quickly as they had struck, their goal accomplished, leaving behind only the echoes of their cackling chuckles.

Syranthe gave vent to a chilling laugh as she viewed the three battles in her scrying orb. Everything was working out perfectly.
Now for step two.

[Shadowhawke]

[Tuesday 10/2/04]
[Ugh, school and homework taking its toll on me again?
Ah well. I?m well enough to write, so here goes!
Enjoy?]


The Avariel knelt, dry-eyed, red-rimmed, on the cold, relentless stone of the Order of the Radiant Heart. The tears that would have flown freely two years ago were dammed by a wall of incredible strength.
Her anger.
Aerie raised her beautiful face, and the shadows recoiled from the light that was shining from her. With a massive explosion, a sunray burst from her hands, half vaporizing the vampires. And then again. Yet another sunray smashed into her disoriented foes.
Finally, there were none left, and Aerie sank down to her knees again.


Keldorn felt the ice clutching at his temples as the scratches that Atheriel had inflicted upon him took their toll. It wasn?t so much ice, though, as the dead feeling that was sweeping inside him, as if someone was draining him of all life?
He shook his head violently and leapt forwards again. He would not let the fiend dominate him.

Minsc cocked his ear towards Boo, and listened for the merest of seconds. Then his eyes flashed.
Atheriel looked at the glint in his eye warily, her fangs curled. Then she leapt at him.
But not before he leapt at her.
Or so she thought.

As Atheriel?s claws whistled millimeters from Minsc?s head, Minsc dived forwards and grabbed a small metal device from off of her robe, and then threw himself into a roll as she realized his intent and tried to regain her balance.
Too late.


Dimly, through a haze of misting ice flame, Cyreth perceived herself falling through air like the swoop of a raven?s wing. A split moment before she hit the stone, she felt warm hands reaching for her, melting through the ice.
But it was not enough.
As the warmth receded, the cold grew more intense. Cyreth tried to cry out, but her frozen lips would not move. Fire licked at the edge of her peripheral vision, but she could feel nothing?
Until the pain hit her like a brick.
Shuddering insanely, only a breath away from the slime ridden stone, Cyreth felt the shadow fire lick at her again.
She knew that she could only take so much of this torture.

?Cyreth, Cyreth, Cyreth,? Dirk muttered brokenly, touching his forehead to her own. Her emerald eyes stared out lifelessly at the never-ending darkness above them, where there was a roof somewhere. But though there was no hint of life in those vacant eyes, Dirk could see the shadow flame licking at the irises.

?What?s wrong with her?? Imoen panted, running over.

?The shadow has hit her again,? Dirk told her grimly.

?The shadow?? Aran asked, puzzlement in his voice.

?Can?t you see?? Dirk stopped. He knew they couldn?t.

There was a silence.

?We?ve got to get her back to Aerie.?


The golden circlet on Aerie?s head flashed as she stood up, coldly, gracefully, elegantly. Emotionlessly, she looked into the darkness, and then looked at the druidess huddled in a bloody heap on the floor.
Then she set off.


?We have the key?? Minsc started, but then stopped in horror.
Jaheira lay on the floor, blood streaking from her clothes. A thin trail of red ran from her neck. There was no sign of Aerie anywhere.
In a flash, Maria had run past Minsc and was kneeling by Jaheira?s side, desperately checking her pulse.

?Is she alive?? demanded Keldorn as he approached and took the scene in with a glance.

Maria rocked back onto her heels, her fingers falling lifelessly from Jaheira?s throat.
?She?s dead,? she whispered inaudibly, unbelievably. ?Jaheira?s dead.?


?Daughter. Cyreth. Wake up.?

Cyreth?s soul recoiled. ?You!?

She heard someone wince. ?Yes, me. I guess I deserved that.?

Anger blazed as well as it could. ?I thought I had gotten rid of you, dammit!?

?Me? I?m afraid not.? Bhaal sighed deeply. ?I wish to the Abyss that I was truly dead as well.?

?What?!? shrieked Cyreth. ?Your essence is all gone! You should be completely, irrevocably dead!!!!?

?I?m afraid not,? Bhaal repeated regretfully.

?What do you mean?? Cyreth checked her rising temper.

?It seems that someone thought to send me to you,? Bhaal commented dryly.

?Send you? to me??

?A certain Solar??

Cyreth sat stunned. Shocked. And then the anger burst out.
?I don?t need anything from you! Go back to your death, dammit, and leave me alone! Just leave me alone!! I don?t ever want to hear from you ever again!?

Bhaal ignored her. ?You know, I was always the most proud of you, somewhere inside,? he murmured thoughtfully.

?Proud?! And why should you be proud oh great Lord of Murder?!?!?

?Stop that,? Bhaal told her with a flash of irritability. Then he sighed again. ?If only everything had been different??

?You don?t know how many times I?ve thought that myself,? Cyreth informed him, vitriol dripping from her voice.

?If only everything had been different, you would really have been my daughter, and I your father,? finished Bhaal quietly.

?I am your daughter and you are my father. What are you talking about?!? snapped Cyreth.

?I meant that this all would have been normal. I would have been a farmer perhaps??

?What are you talking about?!?

?Sorry,? Bhaal stopped his meanderings. ?Anyway, you have to get up.?

?Easier said than done,? Cyreth muttered. ?And why should I listen to you??

?I don?t want you to die,? Bhaal told her plaintively.

Cyreth felt the shock wash over her again. She could recognize Bhaal?s voice, definitely. But it was devoid now of the hatred, power-hungry lilt it used to have. Instead, she detected simple sincerity. He sounded? almost like an innocent child.
This was ridiculous. She was hallucinating or something.

?No, this isn?t a hallucination,? Bhaal mumbled. ?Although I wouldn?t be surprised if you thought that.?

?Why does EVERYONE like to read my thoughts?!?

?We?ll talk later, perhaps, daughter,? Bhaal overrode her uncomfortably. ?And I?ll explain everything. But for now, I think you should get up.?

?How?!?

?Someone is calling you. Answer.?

?Cyreth, Cyreth, Cyreth??
Each word accompanied by a tear. Each tear accompanied by yearning and a keening guilt.

Cyreth felt herself respond to those well-known tones, and spiraled back into her body.


Maria stumbled up from the floor and into Keldorn?s arms, weeping.
?She?s dead, Keldorn! She?s dead?? Maria choked.

Keldorn stroked Maria?s blonde tresses, his own tears dripping down his beard. Many a comrade had fallen before him, but never to such a horrible death as this? and the druidess had been?
?I know??

[Shadowhawke]

Chapter 10

[Thursday 12/2/04]
[Okay, after a bit of waiting? the next installment! I hope you all enjoy!]

?Atheriel,? snapped Syranthe. Her voice was cold and uneven, so cold that even the normally cool vampire felt her dead skin ripple uneasily. Syranthe was angry. And when Syranthe was angry?

?Yes, mistress?? inquired Atheriel neutrally.

?You owe me an explanation,? hissed Syranthe.

But before Atheriel could grudgingly answer, Syranthe stopped her, swirling imperiously around to gaze into her scrying orb.
Her eyes smoldered. ?Do you think they?re scared enough, yet, Atheriel?? whispered Syranthe silkily.

?Do you mean to release the druidess? life?? Atheriel asked emotionlessly.

?Yes, I do,? Syranthe purred. ?It should be interesting to see her spirit return to her broken body.

Atheriel winced under her breath. As heartless as she was, literally, she was not beyond imagining the pain that Jaheira would feel.
Not that it was her concern, of course, but?

Syranthe drew a small, iridescent glass bottle from her hip, and delicately released her fingertips. It seemed to fall for an eternity before shattering on the shadowy stone.


Blinding, blinding pain?

Jaheira felt her heart beating under the strain, felt her breath whistling through a destroyed trachea. She shuddered back into her body, feeling each and every one of her wounds just as she had before her spirit had been snatched out.
But though the druidess had returned to her body, her body was too shattered to hold her spirit any longer. She began the spiraling descent into death once again?


?What in the name of all the Gods?!?!?

They stood stunned, as the sound of Jaheira breathing assailed them. Dirk moved first. He practically threw himself onto the floor and checked her pulse.
?She?s alive!? he gasped.

?Well that?s blatantly obvious,? Imoen cried. ?But she?s going to die if she isn?t healed!?

Aerie responded immediately. Blue fire flashed from her hands to engulf Jaheira in healing magic. But it was too late. Too little too late?

Jaheira felt her spirit leaving her body. Angrily, she fought on, clinging to what life she had left?
As she felt Aerie?s magic, however, she knew it was too late. Jaheira felt even the strength of her soul waver?
And then she felt a freezing shock, and was literally and violently thrown back into life again.


?What in the Abyss?!?!?

?Do you have to scream so loud?? Aran muttered painfully below his breath. But even the master thief felt like exclaiming out loud. This was just totally?

?Yeah? well, when Dirk throws a bucket of water over Jaheira, I do kind of feel like??

?Just what did you do that for?!? interjected Imoen, stunned.

?To save my life,? coughed Jaheira weakly as she levered herself up from the floor, dripping wet. She looked at Dirk with a kind of respect. ?Where did you learn that??

?Somewhere,? Dirk shrugged, smiling faintly. ?I?m glad I did.?

?Okay?? Cyreth took a deep breath to gain control. ?This is how I see what?s just happened. Jaheira is dead for who knows how long, and then she suddenly comes back to life, and then starts dying again. Aerie heals her, but too late, and just as her pulse blacks out, Dirk pours ice-cold water onto her, successfully bringing her back to life?!?

?It?s system shock, actually,? Aerie explained, looking weary and relieved. ?The water was cold enough to shock Jaheira?s heart into keeping on beating.?

?How come the water?s so cold?? demanded Aran irrationally.

?I have absolutely no idea, but that is not important,? Jaheira struggled to her feet. ?What is important is that I know where our enemy is.?


?I don?t get it,? murmured Cyreth in stunned disbelief. ?I just don?t get it.?

?What are you talking about?? kidded Imoen lightly. ?Jaheira?s return to life or both??

?Both,? muttered Cyreth, cradling her head in her hands. ?But Jaheira?s right. She?s alive, so I?m not going to question that, I?m just going to be damn relieved about it. I just can?t believe this??

?Neither can I.?

A warm arm slipped around Cyreth?s shoulders, and she smiled at her sister. ?This is so confusing,? she admitted.

?What?s really the problem right now is whether we go after Atheriel or Syranthe,? Imoen reflected.

?Atheriel probably has some kind of portal she uses to get to Syranthe?s side or something. We could go after Atheriel and then find that portal, therefore saving us the trouble.?

?There?s a point, but what if she doesn?t have a portal??

?I think she does,? interrupted Jaheira as she sat down, dry now. It had been an ingenious idea from Aran, although he had later protested it was a joke. But Jaheira transforming into a Fire elemental had dried her in an instant.
?There?s really no other way she could get to Syranthe so quickly.?

"A teleportation spell would be too cumbersome," Dirk agreed. "They've got to have a portal stashed away somewhere."

?She?ll have the portal key then,? Keldorn nodded. ?Which means that it will be time-saving to go after Atheriel anyway.?

?Right,? Cyreth decided. ?Atheriel it is??

?Problem is,? Minsc started wearily. ?How do we find her??


?Daughter, may we talk??

?What kind of a question is that?? Cyreth snapped silently. ?You can talk to me as much as you want, and by the sounds of it, I can?t stop you.?

Bhaal winced. ?Will you listen??

?Depends. If you try any of that Slayer tempting stuff, you bet I won?t listen,? Cyreth growled.

?Please, daughter. This is hard for me too.

?Don?t start telling me how ?hard? this is for you,? Cyreth told him dangerously. ?You don?t know anything.?

?Will you let me talk??

?Not like I?ve got a whole lot of choice. What?s on your mind, Daddy??

The sarcasm dripping from her voice made him wince again. ?I don?t blame you for this. I blame myself for listening to Myrkul and Bane. But anyway, be careful.?

?Be careful?!? Cyreth exploded. ?I don?t need you telling me to be careful! The fact that you?re my father has made so many people want to kill me that if I wasn?t careful I?d already be dead!

?You?d be surprised, Cyreth,? Bhaal laughed softly. ?I think sometimes the only reason you?re not dead is because of your companions.?

Cyreth was lost for retorts for a moment, and then exhaled.
?Okay. You win. This time. What do you want to tell me??

?Watch your step, Cyreth. Atheriel is cunning and crafty, and she is powerful. It is the worst mix in an enemy. She may not have that many vampires left, but she is more than a match for all nine of you.?

?Great,? murmured Cyreth dejectedly. ?Then we?ve got no chance of beating her??

?None,? Bhaal told her firmly.

Cyreth wondered why her father, who?d seemed so apologetic and remorseful at the start of the forced conversation had suddenly transformed. She suddenly realized how she was acting.

?Yes, you are acting a bit spoilt,? Bhaal told her softly. ?But in your position, I don?t blame you.?

?Whatever. I?m sorry.?

The silence went on for an eternity, and then Bhaal spoke again.

?You will not be able to defeat Atheriel by yourselves,? he emphasized slowly.

?What can I do then??

?Allies can be found in the most unlikely of places??

?Father? Father??

But the voice was gone.


?Hey, stop dreaming, you!? Imoen scolded. ?We?re trying to discuss something here!?

?Oh, sorry,? Cyreth muttered, not listening.

Bhaal?s words echoed in her head. Allies can be found in the most unlikely of places?

She still remembered when Maria had offered to run to the doors in response to one of Dirk?s uncomfortable feelings. An uncomfortable feeling that turned out to be justified.
They were trapped.
The doors had simply disappeared. There was no way they could get to the outside without defeating Atheriel first, and then taking the portal.

Allies can be found in the most unlikely of places?

Cyreth looked around cynically. What kind of allies would they be able to get in here?

Edited by Shadowhawke, 05 May 2004 - 08:01 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

[Friday 13/2/2004]
[Phew? end of the week = excuse to write!!! Enjoy!]


?This is going quicker than I had planned,? spat Syranthe as she clenched her tapering fingers into a fist.

?Things do not always go according to plan,? Atheriel nodded gracefully.

?The escape of the knights was unforeseen, however,? Syranthe turned her accusing stare to Atheriel.

?The ranger took me by surprise,? Atheriel explained emotionlessly.

?No excuse, although I supposed those emaciated fools were of no use to us. They barely managed to hobble out the doors.?

?Yes,? Atheriel agreed. ?My vampires are either dead or here. There was no longer a point in having a fresh larder in the Order.?

Despite herself, Syranthe shuddered, and then changed the subject.
?How long do you think it will take them to figure out they?re trapped?? Syranthe asked abruptly.

?They already have; the monk discovered it about an hour after the knights had escaped,? Atheriel patiently reminded her. Death had mellowed her somewhat. She was no longer the impatient, rather fiery young woman that had graced Abeir-Toril.

?Ah yes, that dratted monk,? Syranthe reflected thoughtfully.

Atheriel dug her own claws into her skin, successfully leaving a few deep scratches. Acting nonchalant, she slowly released her clenched fists, allowing the regenerative magic to slowly heal the tears in her pale blue palms.

?You still have not told me of the relationship between you and the monk.?

Atheriel?s ivory eyes flashed at the sudden half-demand, half-attack. ?There is nothing to tell.?


?I?m fine,? Jaheira exclaimed irritably, shaking Minsc?s offered hand off for the seventh time. ?Stop coddling me!?

?No, you?re not fine, actually,? Dirk disagreed calmly, leaning over to loop the druidess? arms over his shoulder. ?You?re tottering on your feet.?

Jaheira scowled at him.

?He?s right, you know,? Imoen laughed. ?You look bad, Jaheira. How about we rest??

?The quicker we find Atheriel, the better,? Jaheira plodded stubbornly on.

?I won?t disagree with that,? Cyreth nodded. ?But you need rest.?

?Stop coddling me, all of you,? Jaheira muttered irascibly.

?We?re not coddling you, dear lady,? Aran laughed. ?We?re merely??
He wisely stopped himself from finishing the sentence as he caught the glare in Jaheira?s eye.

?I need to talk to Imoen and Dirk anyway,? Cyreth said suddenly. ?Just set up camp.?


?You?ve been hearing Bhaal again?!? Imoen half-shouted in disbelief.

?Yeah, I?m not too happy about it either,? laughed Cyreth ruefully. ?And I made that abundantly clear.?

?Seems like our God of Murder?s gone through a personality change,? Dirk remarked thoughtfully. ?I don?t see the famed Bhaal wincing every time you scream at him.?

Imoen groaned. ?Trust me, a lot of men usually start wincing when my sister goes on the rampage.?

?I haven?t yet,? grinned Dirk. ?So what is that, a major victory??

?No, just an excuse for Cyreth to sulk.?

?Stop that,? Cyreth chuckled. ?I?ve never sulked in my life.?

Imoen gave her ?the look.?

?Fine?? exhaled Cyreth. ?I haven?t sulked since two years ago.

Imoen rose her eyebrows.

?One year??

Imoen?s eyebrows arched even higher.

?Two months??

Imoen?s eyebrows began to resemble acute angles.

?Fine!? Cyreth surrendered. ?Three weeks!?

Imoen laughed. ?Knew I?d get you in the end, sis!?

?Thanks,? Cyreth muttered.

?Anyway,? Dirk choked, his voice muffled through his suppressed laughter. ?What do we do now??

?We wait for Jaheira to get better, and then we move,? decided Cyreth.

The three sat in a companionable silence for a while, and then Imoen grinned. ?You two are basically itching to be alone, aren?t you??

?What?!?

Imoen chuckled evilly. ?I can read you, sis. I can read you like a book.?
And with laughs trailing behind her, she melted into the shadows.


The companionable silence suddenly grew tense. Cyreth and Dirk admittedly hadn?t had as much time alone as they would have wanted, but as Cyreth glanced into Dirk?s magnetic, compelling liquid eyes, she felt her heart uncomfortably fluttering. She would have liked to say so much, do so much, had only the situation been different. Suddenly, her heart ached for all this to have been different. To not be a Child of Bhaal, and to have met Dirk in her home village, perhaps. And then they could have had? this would all have been so different?
Dirk?s soft breath caressed her cheek.
?What are you thinking of, Cyreth??

?I thought you could read my mind?? Cyreth teased lightly, enjoying the shivering sensations as Dirk laid his own hand on hers.

?I would give all I had to know what was transpiring in that mind of yours right now,? laughed Dirk softly.


Being left alone with their loved ones certainly did something to his daughters? hormones, Bhaal thought wryly. They were like adolescents with a crush.
Then again, he reflected, they both definitely didn?t have experience in this area. They had been too busy fighting off enemies because of their lineage? because they were his daughters.
He reflected wryly on his own situation. He certainly did regret ever having listened to Myrkul and Bane. It was only sheer luck on his part that all of the gods had agreed that this sorry, dead, mortal should be brought back in spirit to watch over his remaining daughters... and his son. The gods had bickered over whether three such powerful mortals should have even been left alive. But it had been done and decided, and Bhaal had been overjoyed when the Solar had summoned him out of the Abyss and had asked him whether he wanted the role of watching over his three remaining children.
Bhaal screwed up his nose. He had to admit it. He loved his two remaining daughters. Perhaps the new man his son had become as well, but perhaps not. He wasn?t sure. However, he had watched over them for so long, it was hard not to. The others of his blood had all been ambitious, vicious, murderous?
Well, not all. But most of them had been. They seemed to have been possessed by the godly power within them, just as Bhaal himself had been.

Bhaal continued watching as the two separate scenes unfolded before his eyes. Imoen had sneaked off to Aran, and Cyreth and Dirk were still just sitting there, gazing into each other?s eyes like lovestruck teenagers.
Which they were, although there was a matter of both of them being six years past being called teenagers.
No matter, Bhaal thought. This would be amusing?
But if either of the two men tried to hurt his daughters, he would?


Cyreth and Imoen probably would have laughed out loud if they?d realized that their father was having heavily protective paternal thoughts about the two of them. As it was, though, they were a little too busy to ruminate on the possibilities.

?Are you cold?? Dirk asked, enfolding her in his arms.

?No, you?re really warm,? murmured Cyreth.

?Mmm??

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the silence and the togetherness, both dreaming about what the future held, and what would have happened if this had all been different.

?You know, I?m glad that this has all happened,? Dirk said suddenly.

?Why is that?? asked Cyreth.

?If none of this had happened, we wouldn?t have ever met,? explained Dirk. He shifted slightly so he could look into her brilliant emerald eyes. ?I don?t know how I was ever happy without you.?

?Whoah,? Cyreth smiled. ?This is going a bit too fast. Next we?ll be swearing our vows of undying love??
But her words faltered as she was drawn into the depths of Dirk?s eyes again.
They hadn?t really talked much. They hadn?t even been together for too much more than a week. But Cyreth knew that she was irrevocably, unchangeably in love.
No-one burst in on them this time. Hesitantly, shyly, they closed the distance between them.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 10 May 2004 - 03:26 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

[Friday 13/2/2004]
[Hey? whoah, I just had to write. This is going to be really bad quality, I can already tell, so I apologize. I?ll attempt to clean it up tomorrow when my brain isn?t constantly telling me to sleep.
Enjoy, if you can!]


Godchild? godchild? godchild? godchild?
Know me? know me? know me? know me?
Come to me? come to me? come to me? come to me?
Hatred? hatred? hatred? hatred?
Feel me? feel me? feel me? feel me?
Kill you? kill you? kill you? kill you?
Suffer! Suffer! Suffer! Suffer!

The Order reverberated with Cyreth?s screams.


She smiled coldly. Everything was going according to plan. Syranthe was a fool. She would be killed by the Bhaalspawn. The Bhaalspawn would save her the trouble of killing her herself. Atheriel would probably fall to the Bhaalspawn as well. Although perhaps not? Atheriel was clever enough to get out of anything.
She pondered the annoyance of Syranthe for a moment. It was good that Atheriel was so loyal to her. Syranthe would definitely be killed. And Atheriel would probably?
Yes. She smiled in satisfaction. Everything would work.


Syranthe?s cold eyes were drawn to the scrying orb as she watched. ?Atheriel!? she demanded. ?What is happening?!?

?I am sorry, mistress,? Atheriel stuttered, half slack-jawed in shock. ?I? I do not know what is happening to the Bhaalspawn!?

?Stop it!? shouted Syranthe irrationally. ?I don?t want her dead yet!?

?I? I don?t know what is going on, mistress,? Atheriel tried desperately. ?I cannot stop it!?



?Very well done, Atheriel,? she thought humorously. ?Syranthe trusts you? you should have been a bard. Your acting is superb??



Cyreth was screaming. Screaming as loud as she ever had. Probably as loud as she ever would. It was worse pain than the shadow fire.

Cyreth was screaming. All eight of them tried to wake her. They were failing.

Cyreth was screaming. The world was a shifting blur of pain, pain and more pain. She did not know what the shadow fire's purpose had been, but she sensed that it would not have killed her unless it was allowed to go on for an hour or so unstopped.

Cyreth was screaming. Her thrashes grew weaker and weaker. But this... this pain was designed to kill. The loathing in the voice had been projected into pure agony. Cyreth lost herself as the void of death rushed to meet her.

Cyreth was screaming. They did not need Aerie or Jaheira to tell them she was dying.

Cyreth was screaming. Whatever this was, this would kill her.


?Oh please Cyreth, don?t die? don?t die??
Part of Dirk couldn?t really believe what was happening. The rest of him ignored it. The warm, salty tears dripped down his cheeks onto Cyreth?s upturned face. ?Please, don?t die! Just don?t die, Cyreth, I?ll do anything!?

Aran drew Imoen away. And the rest of them followed.

?Let me go, dammit!? shouted Imoen, shaking her hand free of Aran?s hold. ?My sister?s dying and you?re taking me away!?

?Dirk needs time alone,? Aran told her hoarsely.

?She?s my sister! Let me go!? shrieked Imoen, crystal tears starting to fall from her eyes as the situation began to make her half hysterical.

?Everything?s going to be all right,? Aran comforted her.

?Let me..!?

Jaheira, Minsc, Keldorn, and Maria didn?t even bother to look politely away as Aran silenced Imoen?s protests with a kiss, his own tears leaking out of his soft blue eyes.


?Please Cyreth! I don?t know what the hell?s happening, but don?t die! Oh Gods, don?t die! You?ve gotten this bloody far through life, you can?t die!?



?Mortals,? she shook her head languidly. ?So much fuss over a little torture.?
She stabbed one long nail into the air. Cyreth screamed even louder.

?Have it your way Bhaalspawn,? she smiled. She jerked her hand sharply, still gazing into the scrying orb.

Cyreth suddenly stopped moving at all.

?Oh Cyreth, Cyreth, Cyreth,? mumbled Dirk, over and over again. Tears squeezed out of the sides of his sapphire eyes to pool into drops of quartz on the grimy stone floor. ?Cyreth, Cyreth, Cyreth, Cyreth??

?Dirk?? Cyreth whispered, before falling into the abyss of unconsciousness.


?You gave us a shock, child,? Jaheira commented roughly the next morning when Cyreth emerged from her bedroll, pale and shaking.

?I gave myself a shock,? laughed Cyreth shakily.

The pink-haired whirlwind rushed past Jaheira, and bowled Cyreth neatly over to land on the floor with a thump.

?You idiot! Why is everyone trying to get themselves killed?!?

?I don?t know,? Cyreth murmured, hugging her sister tight. ?I don?t know.?



Cyreth chafed all the while. ?I?m fine now!? she told Aerie irritably. ?I don?t need to rest! Every second we waste is a second wasted??

?That makes sense,? Dirk commented mildly.

Cyreth threw him a dirty look. ?Guys, let?s get moving!? she urged. ?We don?t have all the time on Toril. We need to get going.?

?Not until you?re rested first,? smirked Jaheira.

Cyreth scowled.

?Now you know what it feels like,? laughed Jaheira. Then she sobered up. ?Cyreth, I don?t know what happened, but I?m not taking any chances. You?re resting, and that?s that.?

Cyreth searched every one of their faces, and then sighed sardonically.
?And I thought I was the leader around here??

?You are, but not when you?re hurt,? Aerie handed her a draught. ?Drink.?

Cyreth looked suspiciously at her, and then drank it, and immediately sank into a deep sleep.

?That should hold her for a time,? Aerie sighed with relief. ?She?ll probably be well enough to gallivant around Abeir-Toril when she wakes.?

?What did you give her?? Dirk demanded, hovering over Cyreth?s sleeping form protectively.

?A simple sleeping draught,? Aerie told him.


The group dissipated, leaving Dirk sitting by Cyreth. But Aran followed Imoen as she struck off into the shadows by herself.

The master thief finally caught up with the angrily stalking Imoen about fifteen minutes later.

?Whoah, slow down,? Aran called. ?What?s wrong??

?Everything!? snapped Imoen, whirling around to face him only when he caught hold of her hand.

?What do you mean by everything?? asked Aran confusedly.

?Don?t be so thick Aran!? yelled Imoen in frustration, wrenching her wrist out of Aran's hold. ?Everything?s wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!?

?Calm down,? Aran placated her. ?What?s wrong??

?Everything!? reiterated Imoen. ?Just everything!?

?Start from the beginning.?

Imoen took a deep breath. ?Okay, we?re just traveling around helping out random villages and places because we?ve all got the traveling bug. Then we get jumped in the middle of the night, and then knocked out. Then we wake up in that horrible government prison, and this creepy weirdo starts talking to us and saying we?ll always be Bhaalspawn. And whoever it is has this thing about laughing. Then some undead attack Cyreth and I, we get free, we rescue Dirk, we manage to get out of there, and then we escape to that inn. And then two thieves attack us and we find the note, and then meet them at your guildhouse, and while we?re talking, the others get attacked again! And then we use you as the bait thing, you almost get killed, and then we get sent to the Order of the Radiant Heart. We find Keldorn, join up after the Beholders, and then we come in here! And then Jaheira gets killed and brought back and we release the knights and now Cyreth almost got killed again for no apparent reason?? Imoen was crying by now. ?What in Toril is happening to us?!?

?One hell of a lot too much,? Aran muttered as Imoen collapsed into his arms. ?One hell of a lot too much??



?So can we go now?? demanded Cyreth impatiently.

?Yes, Cyreth,? Keldorn rumbled. ?We?re ready.?

Ready? Cyreth thought bitterly. Yeah, for what?


Time was obsolete in the darkness. Even Keldorn occasionally commented that he had never realized the Order was so huge. They did not know where they were going, they only followed Keldorn's lead. Logically, they assumed that Atheriel would be somewhere around the main office of the head Paladin. They weren't really sure.

Time passed. Hours passed. Everyone grew impatient.

Finally, Jaheira broke. ?Curse it,? Jaheira swore after yet another useless hour of tramping around. ?Where is she??

?Looking for me?? purred Atheriel, one eyebrow arched elegantly as she stepped out of nowhere.

[Shadowhawke]

[Sunday 15/2/04]
[Hey. I promise that this post will be of better quality than the last one! Not a hard promise to fulfill, really, is it?
Enjoy! ;D]


The world was frozen as if somebody has suddenly doomed the whole universe to be forever suspended in ice. No one moved. No one even breathed. No one talked. No one needed to.

Atheriel looked casually around the group, her eyes traveling to each face. The try-hard, naïve, hopeless Bhaalspawn caught her eye first. Atheriel snorted silently. It was a wonder this idiot had survived this far, with so much thrown at her. Half the stories probably weren?t true; this girl was nothing more than a pretty face.

And him. He was nothing but a sucker for a pretty face. Though he was handsome, she had to admit. She?d never seen a more attractive male elf?
Atheriel quickly moved her eyes past Dirk?s face and then laughed inwardly as Aerie shrank back instinctively. Coward. Fool. Cleric. Avariel. All insults, according to Atheriel. Especially the Cleric part?

And the druidess. Try as she might, Atheriel couldn?t really find anything wrong with her. She repressed the urge to scowl. The druidess was commendably tough. She shouldn?t have survived being sent back to her body in the state that it was, let alone live in it for about ten seconds before it was healed. She was smart, she was tough. Atheriel respected these things. Then her lips curled into a sneer as she realized the druidess? fault. She followed the fool Bhaalspawn. Perhaps she wasn?t that smart if she didn?t just take over the leadership herself. Idiot.

And him. Atheriel felt like laughing. Arrogant, stuck-up, prick. And a show-off at that. And he was in love with the other Bhaalspawn?
Frivolous, too smart for her own good, ignorant, naïve, hopelessly devoted to her sister?
Atheriel knew that she could reel off a million things she didn?t like about Imoen. And Cyreth for that matter?

Minsc. Crazy ranger with a hamster. She didn?t even deign to notice him.

And then she stopped pretending to be so casual, and started shaking with rage as her eyes fell on the next member of the extended group.
Keldorn, the stupid, bumbling paladin; she snorted quietly to herself in absolute disgust. Why Maria would marry someone as stupid as he was? she just couldn?t imagine why. What could have possibly made Maria?

And now she could barely even pretend she was in control. Maria was looking dead at her. She felt all the rage bubble up in her that she had suppressed for so long. Maria?
Suddenly she felt the crazy urge to run. Anything to be away from Maria. Away from that all too familiar lavender stare.

A whisper hit her hard.
?Marianne??

Atheriel snapped to sudden attention. When had she heard that name before? It was achingly familiar?

?Marianne??

Atheriel felt in involuntary shudder run throughout her whole body. She felt forces moving within her deadness that should have been left alive. A sudden, inescapable power clenched her as she was thrown back into the past.

?So you have decided??

?Of course.?

The bitterness in Marianne?s voice was prevalent. Maria sighed, and shook her head.

?I love him, Marianne.?

?So you no longer love me.?

?That is not true and you know it!?

?No I don?t? I?m beginning to wonder.?

?Marianne! We?ve always been together. You?ve got to understand??

Marianne looked straight into Maria?s eyes. That was it. That had always been the only defining characteristic of the two. Apart from the fact that Marianne had ivory eyes and Maria had lavender, they were identical, inseparable, one.

?We weren?t together ?that time,?? Marianne said softly.

Maria blanched. ?That time? was a topic that Marianne had never brought up again after the initial pain of it.

Marianne looked out of the window. ?You weren?t there for me ?that time.??

?This is ridiculous,? Maria shook her head wildly. ?We?ve been through this! I couldn?t help it, Marianne! I couldn?t help it!?

Marianne didn?t answer. She looked coldly at Maria, and then slipped out of the door.
She was Marianne no longer. Hadn?t been since ?that time?.


?Marianne??

Maria kept looking at her, calm, stolid, steady. Then she tried again.

?Marianne??

Atheriel swallowed, and then brought her beautiful, pale, almond-shaped ivory eyes up to face the lavender ones.

No-one moved. No one even breathed.

The deadness welling up inside Atheriel was killing her. She was dead, and yet she was dying. The inner struggle between life and death and love and hate poured molten lava into her soul, causing a wrenching, indescribable pain of? something.
At last, she managed to choke something out of her closing throat.

?I?ll take you to Syranthe.?



She froze, and then smiled. She had not expected this. Clearly, Atheriel had something up her sleeve. She had no problem with that. Although she could not see into the vampire?s thoughts, she had a fairly good idea of what was going to happen.
Syranthe would be killed, and then Atheriel would take the unsuspecting Bhaalspawn to her. Then she would finally have her revenge.
She shuddered in something closely akin to ecstasy at the thought.


Syranthe stared at her scrying orb in horror. She couldn?t believe it. No, it wasn?t possible!!! It wasn?t!
Then panic overtook her.
Atheriel had betrayed her! The most loyal of all her servants? the most powerful. She knew she was not ready for this yet! What was happening?!?!


The disjointedness of this all startled Cyreth. She couldn?t possibly comprehend what was happening. It was all going too fast. They had come to kill Atheriel, and had instead been confronted by an offer. No, it wasn?t even an offer. It was a statement. Atheriel knew that they?d take it.
But who was Syranthe? They?d only heard of her, what? A few times?

?Why are you offering to help us?? demanded Aran suspiciously, breaking the silence.

?It is not an offer,? Atheriel informed him coldly, a hint of steel returning to her voice. ?I will show you to Syranthe.?

?Who the hell is she, though?? Imoen mandated.

Atheriel?s dead eyes smoldered in disgust as she looked at the thief. ?Haven?t you figured that out yet?? she asked contemptuously.

?Hard to, we?ve only heard of her a few times.?

Atheriel snorted. ?And I thought you were intelligent,? she said softly.

?Enough of this,? Dirk stopped them uncharacteristically. ?Why are you helping us??

?Why do you question everything?? Atheriel snapped. ?I?m leading you to Syranthe whether you like it or not.?

And with that, she promptly spun around into the darkness, leaving them staring after her in amazement.


They instinctively turned to Cyreth. ?What do we do?? asked Aerie.

?I have no idea,? Cyreth murmured. ?I am? I have absolutely no idea? Maria! Where are you going??

?I?m following Marianne, of course,? snorted Maria. ?Are you coming or not? It?s obviously Syranthe who?s been hunting you all this time. This is our chance. Unexpected, sudden, but this is our chance. You can have all this tramping around in the Order done with. We?re trapped anyway. Marianne?s our only way out.?

Keldorn gaped at her. ?Do you mean to trust that fiend??

Maria looked at him. ?That ?fiend? is my twin sister.?

[Shadowhawke]

[Monday 16/2/04]
[Hey guys. Thanks for all of the comments and all! Enjoy this section, I hope!]


Aerie

?Nooo!? shrieked Aerie, her face suffused in light, beauty, tears, and pain. ?No! PLEASE!!!?

They ignored her. Pearly drops of blood fell from poisoned, gangrenous wings that huddled close to her body in sickly green tatters. ?Please,? she sobbed as she writhed with pain. The knives flashed deeper and deeper. ?PLEASE!!?


?I?m utterly useless,? Aerie sobbed. ?I am, aren?t I? I know I am? if it weren?t for you, I would be dead by now! Let me go back to the circus? I?m just baggage? extra luggage? I?m utterly, completely useless!?

Cyreth?s eyes grew harsh as she yanked the Avariel up unceremoniously and stared deep into the frightened blue eyes.

?I?m useless, aren?t I?? quavered Aerie, shivering in Cyreth?s tight grasp.

?You?? Cyreth started angrily, but was cut off.

?It?s okay,? babbled Aerie, dashing away tears with a free hand. ?I?ll go back to the circus. I will. Don?t worry. I?m utterly useless to you here??

?But??

?I?ll leave now, if you want. After I finish healing??

?Aeri??

?And I can try to raise??

?Aerie, shut up and listen to me.?

The Avariel stopped her hysterical chattering, and looked up fearfully at Cyreth. The Bhaalspawn?s face radiated anger, power, and a hint of something else that the usually perceptive elf could not decipher.
?You are not useless,? Cyreth growled gruffly.

?But??

?Shut up and listen to me,? Cyreth ordered again. ?You are not useless! You saved my life back there with that fireball!?

?But I burnt you so badly??

Cyreth?s face was still half sooty black, and one side of her torso was charred. It was a miracle she was even standing, let alone standing with an elf dangling from one hand.
?I would rather be burnt than dead,? Cyreth stated.

?But if you were dead, we could resurrect you,? Aerie said timidly.

?No you couldn?t,? Cyreth disagreed roughly. ?When I?m dead, my body will be destroyed as the Bhaal essence within me goes to join the rest. I?ll just be a bunch of dust particles. The most experienced priest in Toril could try raising me, and he?d fail.?

Aerie stayed silent.

?You saved my life back there, Aerie. I?m not going to forget it. If it weren?t for you, I?d be dead. You can go back to the circus if you want to, but I?ll only let you go when you realize you are anything but useless!?

?But I??

?No buts. You are a fully-fledged priest. You?re also an archmage. How many elves can boast that honor??

?But I??

Cyreth?s voice was gentler this time as she cut the Avariel off again. ?You are far from useless. You are strong. You are courageous. You just need to reach inside and get the courage to live! Don?t you see??

Aerie mutely shook her head.

?Not every Avariel on Toril could survive what you have. Many would die if their wings were cut off. You survived.?

?But they wouldn?t have gotten themselves caught in the first place??

?No! Don?t you see? That is your strength! Your gentleness! Your compassion! Your willingness to help others! That is your strength! That kind of human? that kind of elven compassion can?t be bought these days! It?s rarer than rogue stones! You?re rarer? you?re special.?

Cyreth stopped abruptly, embarrassed by her sudden intensity, and she dropped Aerie, who landed on the floor with a thump.

?Sorry,? Cyreth muttered shortly, and then walked away.

Aerie stared after her, something awakening in her soul.


Jaheira

?No? no? Khalid!! KHALID!!!
Jaheira fled through the streets, pushing blindly through the startled crowds. Tears soaked her skin, leaving shining trails of sorrow tracing her tanned cheeks.
"Silvanus..." she choked wildly, startling off a few children as she ran past them. "Silvanus... your servant calls to you..."
A never-ending rain of crystal flew down in a cascading waterfall as she ran, the Amulet of Cheetah Speed lending her abnormal speed. Coupled with the Improved Haste spell she'd cast with the help of the Amulet, Jaheira literally flew through the air.
Anything to get away... away...
"Silvanus... help me in this time of need..."


"Kha-liiiiiid! Kha-liiiiid! Why?! You... you said our love would be undying! You promised me we'd never be apart! You promised me that we'd always be there for another! Why did you leave me, Khalid?! Why?"
"I have never left you, Jaheira."
Jaheira, still blinded by tears, looked up quaveringly.
"Kha-Kha-Khalid?"
"I have always loved you, Jaheira. I always will." The ghost looked compassionately at her. "I have watched you for two years now, Jaheira. The guilt and the grief. The thick and the thin. I have been with you through all of that. Our love is undying. We will never be apart. We will always be there for each other. But you have to let go, Jaheira. You have to let go. Too long have I lingered here. I have been chained to you by your guilt and grief. Let go, Jaheira. Let go of the grief. Let go of the guilt."
"Khalid..." wept Jaheira. "My love... I killed you!"
"Irenicus killed me," Khalid looked into her eyes. "And you have kept me alive. But it is time to let go now."
"How can I let go?" whispered Jaheira. "How? I love you, Khalid. Why did you leave me?"
"l have never left you, Jaheira. I love you. I love you. But you must let go."
"But how?" asked Jaheira brokenly. "But how?"
"You know how to, Jaheira. Let go."
Grief. Guilt. Pain. Agony. No... anger.
Let go of the anger.
Grief. Guilt. Pain.
Let go of the agony.
Grief. Guilt.
Let go of the pain.
Grief.
Let... let go of the guilt.

Let... let go. Let go. Let go of the grief. Let go...

"Silvanus, guide the spirit to the light," Jaheira chanted tremblingly again. "Guide the spirit to the light... Guide the spirit to the light... I have held on too long. Truly, this time I chant. Guide the spirit to the light..."
Khalid sighed, relief washing through his voice. "Jaheira... know that I am always watching you from above. I will always be there. Carry in your heart the knowledge that you kept me alive... Carry in your heart my heart. Carry in your soul my soul. We will always be together."
The ghost dissipated, and Jaheira sank, weeping hysterically, onto the floor.


Minsc

?Dynaheir! NO! DYNAHEIR!!!
Damn you, you scourge of evil! I?ll? I?ll grind you into little bits of celery for Boo to eat! I?ll? I?ll??
Minsc slumped against the bars, hammering futilely at the thick iron that separated him from Irenicus? sneering face. He wanted to crush that face and? he wanted to rip his heart out and?
The familiar cloud of red obscured his sight as Minsc went berserk, Irenicus? laughs echoing in his ears, his mind?s one link to the Prime Material Plane.
His heart suddenly rebelled against the instincts of his mind. Dynaheir would not want him to lose himself now. He struggled back to the brink of sanity desperately, throwing away the cord to insanity; ignoring Irenicus? evil cackles in his ears.
He would do Dynaheir no good by going berserk now.
No, he had to conserve his strength?
For when the chance finally came for him to kill Irenicus.


Keldorn

How long had it been since he had walked this road? The bustle of the City of Coin assaulted his senses as he walked apprehensively, quietly through the Government district. Shouts of old timers greeted him, and he responded with his usual dignified nod.
But his smile was distracted. He had a lot in his mind?

?Keldo? Keldorn??

?I?m home, Maria, I?m home.?

Maria?s voice was flat, suddenly, the initial tone of joy gone. ?And how long is it before you go away again??

Keldorn winced. ?No, this time?s for good.?

A faint glimmer of hope entered into those beautiful lavender eyes. ?Really?? Maria asked suspiciously.

Keldorn smiled wryly. ?Cyreth made me swear an oath.?

That clinched it. Maria threw herself into Keldorn?s arms, laughing and crying with sudden tears and joy. Keldorn?s two children came in running, and joined in the embrace.
Keldorn breathed in the fragrance of the blonde tresses that were nestled against mouth. He felt his two daughters pressing closely to his sides.
This was home; home for an eternity.


Aran

?NOOO!?
Aran slammed hard against the sphere walls again. A fresh stab of pain insinuated its way through his blindness. He collapsed against the smooth barrier, dry-eyed.
Bruises and scratches literally covered his skin. He curled up into a ball and thought.
What else was there to do?
He saw Imoen in his mind. Had he been blind or what? He?d loved her ever since he?d seen her first; when Cyreth had come back to him to plead for help with Bodhi. He hadn?t been able to take his eyes off her.
Then after all of that, when both Imoen and Cyreth had given up their Bhaal essence, the many nights they had spent with him? why hadn?t he seen it?
Now, he could only clench his hands and pray?
Pray that he wouldn?t be insane when Imoen got him out.
He knew she?d get him out?
Wouldn?t she?
She would.
He closed his eyes and tried to stop the tears from squeezing out as he finally realized he loved Imoen.
And might never get to tell her.


Imoen

?Cyreth?s gonna come for me,? muttered Imoen as she lay, crumpled on the floor of her room. ?Cyreth?s gonna come for me. I know she?s gonna come for me.
A soft gulp escaped her. ?She?s gotta come for me.

Irenicus? footfalls echoed again in her memory and the hall. She twisted convulsively, already feeling the pain that was going to come at any second, now.

It came without warning. The blast of magical fire sent her screaming in pain.

?Oh, Cyreth, Cyreth,? Imoen mumbled, a tear coursing down her cheek. ?You?ve gotta come!?

?She?ll come, Imoen,? Irenicus assured her, the steel in his tone shivering her bones.
?She?ll come.?

And Imoen believed him.


Dirk

?Are you ready??

Dirk swallowed. ?I don?t know? I don?t know.?

?If you are ready, you should know,? Halren told him, infuriatingly calm.

Dirk swallowed again. His throat was dry. ?I?m ready.?

?Good.?

Dirk watched nervously as Halren began his preparations. He?d never been through this before.
What the hell? Dirk thought, a touch of humor in his voice as he mocked himself. Of course you haven?t been through this before, you idiot. Otherwise you wouldn?t have to go through this now.

?Are you ready?? whispered Halren again.

?Yes.?

The arcane magic swirled from Halren?s fingers. His shape grew indistinct, blurred. And then Dirk saw different forms where Halren stood. Halren was Halren, and yet he saw a sword in the shadows of the elf, then a man, then a hawk, soaring free in the air.
But in the center of it all, magnificent head raised in a beautiful song, stood a wolf.


They were thrown out of the portal with a violent discharge of energy. Atheriel was already waiting, a haggard look they had never seen before on the vampire?s face written across her features.
?Come,? she said shortly, not waiting for them to recover from the effects of the portal. ?She is here.?

[Shadowhawke]

[I am so sorry for not updating this as much as I would have liked, I really am. I’d like to think that someone might have missed me updating, but oh well.
Anyway, apologies to all. I’m not really that good at writing Haer’Dalis or Edwin, but I have tried.
I hope you all enjoy!]


“My raven!”

“Haer’Dalis?!”

“I knew that it ‘twould not be long before your heavenly steps awoke me from this mess! My raven, how does it come about that you have rescued me a second time?”

“I wouldn’t say that I’ve rescued you yet, Haer’Dalis,” Cyreth laughed shakily, still staring in wonder. “We don’t have the key to your cell, for one thing.”

“A key is naught but a twisted stick of metal,” Haer’Dalis laughed gaily. “It will come about soon enough.”

“Who’s this?” asked Dirk, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“This sparrow is Haer’Dalis, Doomguard and tiefling,” Haer’Dalis introduced himself cheerily. “And who might you be, you who stands by my raven’s side?”

Dirk’s eyebrow went even further. “Your raven?”

Cyreth stifled a laugh. Was it… could Dirk possible be…?

“My raven, yes,” Haer’Dalis said easily. “My companion in many adventures until we took separate paths at the eve of yesteryear. And who might you be?”

“I’m Dirk,” Dirk introduced himself stiffly.

“Ah, a sword hand of great renown stands by my raven. I am overjoyed that she is so protected.”

“Indeed.”

Imoen couldn’t resist, and she started laughing. Cyreth joined in. Soon, they were all laughing, Dirk laughing rather sheepishly.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“Nalia!”

“Cyreth!”

Cyreth stared in horror at her friend. Her once lustrous hair was half-caked with mud and grime. She looked horrible. One eye was covered in a dirty looking bruise. The other had a slowly healing cut barely above the lid. She was barely recognizable.

“Nalia, what happened to you?!”

“We’re not a pretty sight, huh?”

Cyreth laughed shakily. “I won’t lie to you, Nalia. You look awful.”

The noblewoman gave Cyreth a brilliant smile. Her teeth flashed white in the shadows. It was obvious that it was one part of her beauty she had not lost.
“I’m glad that of all things, we’ve still retained honesty, if not constant contact.”

Cyreth heard the reproach in Nalia’s voice. “I’ve been busy…” she tried lamely.

Nalia laughed out loud, and then looked at Dirk. “Seems you’ve found someone to be ‘busy’ with,” she smirked knowingly.

“Nalia, that is quite enough,” Jaheira found her tongue. “Nalia, Cyreth, both of you. This isn’t some reunion party!”

“Sorry,” Cyreth apologized, a pinkish tinge still hovering about her cheeks. The look on her face changed to the grim determination she almost always wore now. “Nalia, Haer’Dalis, how many others are in there with you?”

Nalia and Haer’Dalis looked at each other slowly, and then looked back at Cyreth.

“I don’t think you want to know, my raven,” Haer’Dalis murmured.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Cyreth. “Who’s in there?”

There was a strange silence.
Nalia broke it.

“Cyreth, have you possibly kept a list of all of us who’ve traveled with you, and a few others besides?”

“Why?”

“It’ll save me a lot of time.”

“No,” gasped Aerie unbelievingly, craning her neck to try to see past Nalia and Haer’Dalis into the shadows.

“Oh no,” breathed Imoen.

“You can’t be serious…”

“Yes, oh yes, and I can be serious,” Nalia told them grimly. “Everyone’s in here.”

“Even Edwin?” Minsc asked, horrified.

At that, a small smile cracked Nalia and Haer’Dalis’ faces.

“Not Edwin,” Haer’Dalis informed them with a broad smile.

“Edwina.”


It was too late for that second plan, Syranthe swore loudly to herself. She should have known.
There were many ‘she should haves’, she knew, but it was too late to start repenting now. There were a lot of people she had to deal with right now, including the Bhaalspawn and the treacherous Atheriel.
She was still slightly bemused over Atheriel’s betrayal. Atheriel had served her so loyally for three and a half years. Why should she choose to betray her now?
Unless…
Syranthe felt her entire body freeze as the realization came flooding over her.


“I, Edwin Odesseiron, shall curse all of you when I get out of this cage and rejuvenate my superior magics!!

“Edwina Odesseiron, you mean,” giggled Imoen.

“Shut your impertinent, blathering mouths, simian! I shall have my revenge for this… this insult!!”

“What happened, wizard?” demanded Jaheira, trying vainly to keep the laughter inside as she gazed at the transformed Edwin.

Korgan smirked. “Seemed the old codger took on Elminster,” he laughed harshly.

“Elminster?” gasped Aerie unbelievingly.

“So what?” snapped Edwin… Edwina. “Give me a pointy red hat and I’d kick his ass any da…”

“I have to say, wizard, you seem to have gotten what you deserved,” Keldorn murmured into his beard.

Just before Edwin… Edwina went crazy with anger and humiliation, Atheriel stepped in.
“We don’t have all day to throw insults at each other,” the vampire snarled impatiently, her ivory eyes flaming. “We must destroy Syranthe quickly before she comes up with a plan.”

“I should be interested to know if you intend on hunting down our captor after you free us,” Mazzy piped up from a shady corner.

“Syranthe is your captor,” Atheriel growled. “Now let’s get going and leave these half-wits to rot.”

Cyreth stared at her in silence, her emerald eyes burning into the vampire’s ivory ones.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Atheriel who looked away first.

“Well,” Cyreth turned from the vampire, back to those in the cage. “Do any of you know who has the key to the cage?”

“I do,” Anomen stated. “It’s on this vampire that looks like a walking corpse.”

“All vampires look like walking corpses, Anomen,” Aran pointed out.

Atheriel raised an eloquent eyebrow.

“Except for you, of course,” he added hastily.

“Was it a male or a female?” Atheriel demanded.

“A male,” Cernd replied softly. “He looked as if he were a sickened tree, poisoned perhaps by foul waters.”

“Whatever, shapeshifter,” Atheriel shrugged. “Did any of you catch his name?”

“Larez.”


“Larez, I want you to take them by surprise. Now.”

“You cannot take Atheriel by surprise, mistress,” Larez protested, kneeling submissively. “She is too cunning. By now, the cattle will have told her everything.”

“The ‘cattle’ know nothing,” Syranthe dismissed contemptuously. “And do not underestimate these ‘cattle’, Larez. They are strong. That is why they are here.”

“You were planning to draw the Power from them then, mistress?”

“Of course, you fool,” Syranthe snorted. “Now go.”

“I will bring three others along with me.”

“Whatever,” Syranthe’s shadowed eyes flamed. “But keep the Bhaalspawn away for another hour.”

“Why?” Larez felt his curiosity overtake him.

He almost shuddered as he saw the look on Syranthe’s face.

“I’m building an army,” she whispered.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 11 July 2004 - 09:31 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

[I'm really sorry this is so short, guys. It's because I've been really busy lately, what with exams and all! I swear that I will pick this up quicker afterwards, though!
Enjoy!]

“You,” Nalia whispered in disbelief.

“Me.”

Nalia’s cheeks slowly grew red. Her brown hair, still stained with dirt, glistened. One fist clenched.

“You!” she spat.

“Yes, what about me?!” Syranthe snapped back.

“You traitor,” Nalia said coldly. Slowly, she drew herself up, and spat at the Cleric/Mage’s feet.

“There, there, Nalia,” Syranthe smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you’ve been betrayed enough to have gotten used to it by now.”

“You sent Clarissa, didn’t you?” Nalia asked venomously.

“Why of course,” Syranthe chuckled.

“I’m going to kill you,” Nalia said flatly.

“Share,” Aran suddenly interrupted their argument. His eyes gleamed coldly. Imoen looked at them and shuddered. Aran looked completely different now. Shadows played along his face, transforming them into a cruel visage. She knew now that this was the face he presented to the world, and the face he wore when he was angry.
She shuddered again.

Aran’s eyes flickered in the silence. “Share, Nalia,” he suggested calmly, coolly. “I think we’ve all got a bone to pick with the Meisarch.”


Finally.
They’d dawdled.
She shook her head disapprovingly.
She’d expected more from the Bhaalspawn. The legendary tales must have been over-exaggerated. She had taken about two or more weeks to complete what she should have completed in three days.
Typical.
It would not be as fun to destroy the Bhaalspawn as she thought it would have been, she reflected sadly.
It would still be amusing watching her scream, however.
She languidly gazed at the orb and waited for Syranthe to die.


“The Meisarch?” Keldorn gasped.

“The Mistress of Shadows,” Syranthe corrected.

“Not yet, Syranthe,” Atheriel pointed out.

Syranthe’s eyes burned as they fell upon her formerly faithful servant.
“You betrayed me.”

Nalia laughed. “I’m sure you’ve been betrayed enough to have gotten used to it by now.”

“No,” Syranthe suddenly said, calmly, softly.

It was quick. Without warning. Twenty arrows flew through the air and shadows, drinking in the cold as they went. None clattered to the floor.


It was as if frost has pummeled into her defenseless body. First she felt the cold, metal arrowheads, and then, barely seconds later, she felt the pain.
It was as if acid was corroding into her soul.


Imoen later said she nearly fainted. Cyreth later felt better because of her sister’s honesty.

Three arrows. It wasn’t much. Two in her right shoulder. One in her left leg.
However, they were all enchanted.

Through a haze of pain, Cyreth wondered blankly why the arrows had hit her shoulder and her leg. From their position, the archers should have been able to kill her instantly. One arrow, clean through the heart. They should have been able to get rid of all of them in just a few reloads.
The answer hit her fogging brain. Syranthe needed her for something.
Needed them for something. Alive.

She cursed her stupidity. It had been staring at her in the face all along. This was so stupid!!!


It had been instinctive. His muscles had responded before his brain had even told his muscles to respond.

He heard Syranthe screaming.
“I wanted them alive! ALIVE!!!”

Yeah, like hell I’m going to live Dirk thought satisfactorily, vengefully. In a strange way, even as he felt the pain coursing through his body, he felt a kind of vengeful happiness. In dying, he’d thwart her.
His father’s echoing voice told him that she had been looking for him.
The Star Wolves.


Jaheira saw it in slow motion. Twenty arrows. Three hit Cyreth. But before the other three could thud into her, Dirk stepped in front.
Six arrows, the three meant for Cyreth, and the three meant for him, crashed into his body.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Aerie fought through the cries. Jaheira struggled with her. They had to reach Dirk… They had to… Cyreth, Imoen, Aran, Dirk; they’d all copped the arrows. None of those behind had been targeted.
It was hopeless.


Dirk spiraled into oblivion. It was peaceful. The pain of his body faded.
He felt the essence within him now. It was close. He felt it as he had never felt it before. It was like an inner fire. It promised him that he could shape his body at will.

But not anymore.

********************************************************************

She hissed slightly under her breath. Why was Syranthe..? She wouldn’t want to kill them, after all, they were paramount to her plan. Why then, were they being annihilated mercilessly by the steady stream of arrows coming their way?
Syranthe was either being a complete idiot… or she was up to something again.
Her eyes smoldered. It was the latter. She knew it.


The arrows pierced Atheriel’s sleek ivory skin. Her bloodless lips narrowed to a snarl. She could feel the shadow magic fizzle to nothingness, but the steel arrow-tips still stung her shoulder vengefully.
Then a low gasp hit her. Seconds later, she realized it was her own voice.

Why wasn’t he dead yet? Or was he dead? Confusing, twisting, irritating…
Would he hurry up and die already? Dirk felt the unaccustomed impatience take over his mind. The pain struck through his body so hard that he couldn’t breathe. Anything to be rid of this pain! He would willingly cast himself into oblivion.

“Dirk.”

“Halren, what are you doing here?”

“You idiot.”

Dirk laughed, a choking, mangled bark. “That was unexpected.”

The older man looked keenly at his grown apprentice. “You wanted to learn, remember?”

“I want to die, now,” Dirk replied softly.

“You felt it, then.”

It was a statement. Both of them already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

There was an utter silence in the swirling void around them. Consumed by the racking pain, Dirk avoided looking into his mentor’s eyes. If he knew Halren, he knew what would happen next…

“And so you’re just going to give up now? After all of that, and you know everything. You’re just going to give up?”

“I’ve saved Cyreth,” Dirk said defensively. “Surely that’s enough.”

“Surely that’s enough,” mimicked Halren. “Yes, I’m sure!”

The sarcasm dripping from the older man’s voice stung Dirk quick to the core. “Well what am I supposed to do?!” Dirk snarled, finally unleashing a pent up anger he had never known existed. “Do you really expect me to live after six arrows?! You know I can’t be resurrected!”

“They don’t.”

“And that would make such a difference?! Damn, it Halren! Won’t you let me just die in peace!”

“I never let you do anything in peace that wasn’t right; d’you think I’m going to start now?”

“You’re right about that! No-one ever let me choose anything, did they?!”

“As I recall, YOU were the one who chose to be apprenticed. Was that a wrong decision?”

“You know, maybe it was!!”

The two went on, yelling soundlessly at each other, rage and pent up, blind fury in Dirk’s voice, something strangely emotionless in Halren’s. In the end, Dirk stopped, gasping.

There was nothing for a while but the sound of swirling winds. Dirk felt the pain growing lesser and lesser. He knew that soon he’d be dead, and then Halren wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

He glanced over at the spirit of his mentor, his eyes cloaked. Silently, Dirk watched. Then Halren raised his brooding head, and stared right back.

“One with the spirit of stars in his blood,
One with the essence of destruction and death,
Form three, in the midst of the slums in the mud,
Rise glory from ashes, the will from the breath

Star shining, a call from the sapphire sky,
Sing softly the tune that you’ve been taught,
No wonder, ne’er knowing you why,
The blood that your lineage’s brought

A knowledge of fire and the shadow combined,
Truth and the lies in the shadows preside,
The shrill pain of arrows in the darkness defined,
The power of hate in the hearts opened wide

Rise one from the shadows, an ally unknown,
Rise one from the dungeons, a tale untold,
Rise one from the past, a breath of cold stone,
Rise one from the future, the path glittered old

Rise one from the hellgate, the mountain aflame,
Rise one from the side, always in truth,
Rise one from the darkness, once more in dark shame,
Rise one from the heavens, the darkness forsooth

Rise one, in a tangled web of gossamer strands,
Deception and darkness the paramount of swords,
Feel caress of the magic, the delicate hands,
Feel the chill pull of the river that you have to ford.”

Dirk looked into Halren’s eyes. He felt the pain worsen instead of lessen.

“Damn you.”

Halren grinned, and waved.

“Thank you,” Dirk whispered back.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 11 July 2004 - 09:48 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

The stone dagger, its wielder?s face blank, crashed down with astonishing speed onto Dirk?s head. But just as the rock of the statue twisted to one of utter triumph, Cyreth spasmed back into life, and yank Dirk bodily over her.
There was no stopping the action, however. Even as it missed Dirk, it narrowly scraped her still numb side, bringing a soft tongue of fire that whipped her body back into action.
Stiff muscles groaning, she rolled under the statue?s next blow and leapt up, bringing the heel of her palm up simultaneously, smashing it bodily into grinding stone. Blunt pain exploded, and Cyreth winced as they both reeled away from the painful exchange, knowing wryly that she was going to have one hell of a bruise later.
The statue shook its head blankly, its neck creaking where Cyreth?s blow had caused a hairline fracture in the stone. Sheathing the dagger, it brought out a huge broadsword.
Cyreth could almost imagine the smile that she knew would be dancing on the statue?s face had it been capable of expressing emotions. It was a smile that she had seen on many opponents, and a smile that she had not always succeeded in wiping off.
Angurdval and Celestial Fury whirled into action, slipping and sliding as Cyreth expertly dodged and twisted, taking the pure brute force of the blows, and absorbing the impact. In a whirlwind of flurries, Cyreth and the statue danced around each other, fire flickering in their heated exchange.
It ended abruptly when the statue suddenly stiffened and fell soundlessly, blank face remaining blank even in death. Cyreth lifted her eyes and saw the familiar sight of Stareve in its master?s hands.
?Dirk,? she whispered. ?We have to??
Dirk smoothly twisted and extended his right arm out, disemboweling the statue that had crept up behind her.
?Talk,? he finished for her, flashing a tearstained smile. ?I know.?
Cyreth matched tearstained grin for tearstained grin, and then, with the practiced ease of years of training on both sides, they both swung around simultaneously and sliced the two separate statues that had raised their blades neatly in half.

Earthquakes shuddered the battlefield constantly, clerics on both sides unleashing holy powers with nary a thought. Earth Elementals, awakened by these periodic and unnatural disturbances, stalked through both armies, crushing the weaker statues in careless blows, and dueling the practiced warriors with bellows and roars of anger.
Coupled with the Earthquakes were comets and dragon?s breaths incinerating both armies, while fireballs cut down friend and foe alike. Delayed blast fireballs never had to be delayed, and spells like Emotion put fear and strength equally in comrades? hearts. Small bands of friends and past enemies teamed up, wreaking havoc in small controlled measurements.

Bhaal watched the battle with a birds eye view. Something was wrong, he felt it in his stomach. As he watched, half of Cyreth?s army started reeling wildly, as if under some puppet-like control. The statues? numbers had dwindled and now they were losing, but Bhaal couldn?t be rid of the itching feeling that something was wrong. Some things stayed with him even after he lost his power. Some things he had from before he became the acclaimed God of Murder.
Some things like a sixth sense.
Something was wrong.

Mazzy, her flaming hair stained with stone dust, was engaging in a fevered duel with another Halfling statue her size. However, her face wore a mask of furious righteousness, whilst the other remained as blank as a cliff face.
Shaking with fury, Mazzy threw all her might behind a two handed blow.
The statue couldn?t parry. It couldn?t dodge as the Halfling moved forth with lightning speed. All it could do was stand there with blank face whilst Mazzy crushed it, letting loose another cloud of stone dust.
But then, suddenly, Mazzy felt a sickening twist from her back, and with surprise still in her darkening eyes, she toppled over.
There was a ghostly chuckle of wonder as someone stepped from the shadows.
Haer?Dalis was on the rampage.

Jerking undead danced under Viconia?s triumphing eyes as they formed a ring around her, whirling blades twirling in and out, decapitating any statue foolish enough to come within the barrier?s grasp. The army of undead under her control threw rotting missiles at failing statues, their faceless expressions crumbling into dust. Viconia laughed wildly at the slaughter her undead were causing, and then suddenly, she stopped.
?Hear me? I know you can hear me, drow priestess??

?Who in all of the Underdark are you?? snapped Viconia silently.?

?You will learn soon enough who I am? but for now??

?But for now what?? Viconia demanded suspiciously, trying to regain control of her mind in vain.

?What allegiance do you owe the Bhaal child? Why are you fighting with her? Why do you not fight amongst those of the shadow; your own kind??

?My own kind threw me out!? Viconia spat, her eyes blazing. She didn?t notice that the undead had started to falter under her waning control.

?Your own kind welcomes you back,? whispered the dark voice. ?I call you to come back.?

?Well I?m not,? Viconia retorted, wrenching her mind away from the tantalizing offers the voice whispered. ?I?m not coming back!?

?Very well,? the voice suddenly snarled.

Viconia spun around physically and landed in a heap on the floor. She felt an undead hand pick her up. Quickly, she found control again.
What in the nine hells..?


She cursed. She thought that the drow priestess would have been easy to win over? Now, it appeared, she was wrong.
No matter. There were others who might answer the call of the shadow?


Edwina laughed evilly as she threw comet after comet.
?Take that you slobbering simians!? she shouted. The statues shattered under the constant barrage.

?Edwin??

Edwina started at that name. It had been a long time since he had been called that. The mocking had gone for too long.

?Who in the nine hells are you??

That comment was being used too much these days.

?I am who I am, Edwin? and I can once again turn you into what you used to be??

?What would you know of the great intellect and power I used to? I possess now?!?

?I?ve watched you for a long time? Edwin. I?m always watching??

?So can you reverse what? what that damn pointy, red-hat fool did to me?!?

?Of course?? she whispered sibilantly.

Edwina?s eyes went wide. ?What must I do??

?Let me control you!?

It was only then Edwina knew she?d made a terrible mistake.


Chaos ruled supreme. Blue fire outlining his corporeal form, Haer?Dalis stalked through the battle-field.
Something alerted him. Fire in his eyes, he spun around and nailed Edwina in the back. As he stood over his fallen prey, his irises went wide.
?So that?s the game she?s playing??
He threw a quick look at Cyreth.
?My raven? it seems we?re up against??
A blade fell down from above. Haer?Dalis twisted, and with surprise, he saw Valygar, a crazed look in his dark brown eyes.
?Valygar, what are you doing??
?Must? kill? Star? Wolf??
Haer?Dalis was immediately aware of Dirk at his back. But before Valygar could do anything, a charm hit him.
Valygar shook his head, bewilderment crossing his features. ?What?s happening??
Haer?Dalis and Dirk stared at each other.
?That, my ravens, is very, very debatable.?

Bhaal watched with horror. She was controlling half of them! That?s what was wrong!!!
But by then, it was too late.

[Shadowhawke]

The Power flowed through her fingertips, causing a violent, sensual shudder of delight. This is what she loved about being a Goddess... controlling, bending, destroying... all to achieve her own ends.
It was no wonder that no one had ever heard of her. She was faceless, unknown to anyone of the Forgotten Realms except for one.
Her face twisted in anger.
Bhaal.
And the goddess clenched her fist, her nails biting deep into pallid flesh.
Revenge...


Bhaal felt the other-realm taint as he cautiously pushed his forwards. The sickly, almost metallic smell wafted over him. His eyes widened.

"Solar! I need you..."

"I'm coming..."

Within seconds, the familiar outline of the Solar stood in front of him.
"Solar, there is only one who can be perpetrating such madness," Bhaal reported, his eyes flashing.

The Solar regarded him coolly, and then sent out her own magic to search. The whole battlefield glowed a poisoned silver.
"You have met her before, then."

It wasn't a question, but Bhaal answered it anyway.

"Yes," he rasped, his throat closing in on his anger. "And I wish to all the Gods that I hadn't!"

"She has no right to be here," the Solar narrowed her glowing eyes. "In fact, how did she learn to exert such influence here?"

"No doubt because she has grown so powerful in the otherworld," Bhaal spat. "And as a result, is growing more powerful here."

The Solar shook her head decisively. "No, she has come because, in a way, Toril has called to her."

Bhaal looked at her disbelievingly, and then slowly nodded in agreement.
"In a way, yes. But we must rid the realms of her! She is dangerous!"

The Solar shook her head again. "No, Bhaal. We can never rid the lands of her. But we must diminish her power and quickly. It is no mean feat to be able to control all of these powerful beings."

Bhaal spun back to the battle, and swore.


Cyreth saw the figure of Syranthe ahead of her and snarled with an almost feline hatred. Leaping ahead, brushing all statues aside, she stumbled up to where Syranthe stood.
Just in time to see a copper haired figure cry out as a multitude of both magic and normal missiles thudded into her.
"Nalia!" screamed Cyreth, jumping towards her friend.
Too late.
Always, always, too late.


Dirk, Valygar, and Haer'Dalis looked at each other.

"Tell me, Valygar, what did she offer you?" Haer'Dalis asked softly. The screams and sound of steel on grating stone sounded in the background.

"She offered me a chance to take away my blood," Valygar whispered, his head bowed in shame. "She offered to purge the magic from my blood and give me the power to rend to pieces all..."

Valygar halted, and then his eyes lowerede to the ground again. "I think you can guess the rest."

Haer'Dalis nodded, his incadescent blue form shining softly. "She's playing on your desires, Valygar," the tiefling told him, no trace of the usual flowery words in his speech. "Don't be ashamed... all of us fall prey to our own desires often enough."
The tiefling let loose a whimsical smile, and then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Duck!" he yelled.

The ensuing shower of magic and missiles crashed into around thirty statues that had been creeping up behind the three, completely decimating them all. Dirk looked sharply upwards, and swore as he spotted a balcony hidden in the recesses of the shadows.
With a frightful warcry, a piece of rope suddenly appeared in Valygar's hands as he reached the same conclusion Dirk had. Amidst arrows, flaming missiles and more hailing down on him, the ranger nimbly hooked the noose on stone, tugged it, and swung upwards.
Haer'Dalis quickly followed suit, grasping the last tendril of frayed rope.

"Mayhap this will be the end!" the tiefling sung, his otherworldly eyes gleaming. "Come, my raven!"

Dirk grinned, and caught the outstretched hand, just in time to be whisked upwards as Valygar pulled down on the rope, sending them all flying upwards, smashing into various missiles on the way.


Dirk winced as an arrow worked under his elven chainmail, but grimly bore it is he landed catlike on hard stone. It shuddered beneath him, but before the archer had time to switch to a melee weapon, Dirk had brought Stareve down to completely shatter it, such was his force. As the statue slowly fell to lie still on the floor, Dirk jumped from its shoulders to another, whipping Stareve and Starmorn around like a small typhoon. The surprised archers had no time to respond before they were brutally and efficiently cut down.


Syranthe watched as Cyreth stalked towards her like death itself. The cleric/mage shrunk back, fear suddenly overwhelming all ambition, pride, greed, and more. The spell she was chanting died from her lips, interrupted by pure and utter panic.

"That's the last person you'll kill," Cyreth grated.

Syranthe stared at the Bhaalchild in fear. For an instant, she saw the huge, ravaging monster with deadly talons and slobbering maw flicker where Cyreth was standing. Cyreth was inhumanly close...

"No," Syranthe choked out in a feeble attempt at bravado. "You cannot kill me! I will become the mistress of shadows!"

"You'll become the mistress of nothing," Cyreth spat, and drove Angurdval towards her.

A spark of clarity suddenly entered through Syranthe's mind. She was alone, the battle raged around her, but none could come to her assistance. The Bhaal child she'd tried so hard to kill was standing before her, and all hell had broken loose. Her dreams were shattered with every death, but the voice was back.

"Syranthe..."

"Mis... mistress?"

"It is I. I have come back."

"Thank the gods!" Syranthe almost blubbered. "Oh help me... please!"

"Syranthe, you have betrayed me."

Syranthe was assailed by sudden panic. "No! I never meant to! I never meant to usurp your place!"

"We both know that is a lie, Syranthe... but you have seen the truth of it now... the extent of my growing power/

"Yes..."

"You will not be defeated by the Bhaal child, Syranthe. I will now fight for you. Do you accept?"

"Yes!"


Haer'Dalis watched the youth fighting with appreciation as he fenced lightly with an opponent. As the tiefling became bored, he simply sliced its head off and started on a new one.
But, midswing, Haer'Dalis felt something tug at his soul. The blazing blue fire around him diminshed slightly, and then flamed brighter than ever as the Blade pushed back the mental attack with all his might.
Something was happening.
Quickly, Haer'Dalis sprinted to the side of the balcony, and watched with horror as a figure he knew well suddenly glowed a sickening black.

Dirk felt it too.
"Cyreth!"

[Shadowhawke]

[Sorry that I haven't been here for a while... and sorry for what I'm about to do, for any who get irritated by it!]

Syranthe stopped glowing black suddenly, and then, a vicious smile spread across her face. As if under a spell, she slowly dropped the huge hammer in her right hand. Shifting into a battle stance, two unholy pillars of darkness shot down into her empty hands. As they coalesced, Cyreth's eyes widened.
Two shimmering katanas... black as the night itself. The names flashed quickly into her mind. Deathmorn, Deatheve.

What the hell?!?! What kind of a coincidence is that?!

"None whatsoever."

"Can you read my mind, father?"

"I should have thought that would have been blatantly obvious by now."

"Father, what in the nine hells is happening?"

"She's been taken over."

"I gathered that. By WHO?!"

"You wouldn't know her. Suffice to say she is a goddess of another realm... known as Earth."

"What's she doing here, then?"

"It's... a long story. And you don't have time."

"Cyreth..."

"Solar?"

"Yes. Cyreth, Angurdval and the Celestial Fury will only last about ten minutes with those swords. You're going to have to finish the duel quickly."

"What duel?"

"This goddess wants you dead, Cyreth. I thought that was blatantly obvious."

"Why would a goddess from another realm want me dead? I'm a nobody now, remember?"

"You never were, and you never will be a nobody."

"But why?"

"This is no time for your curiousity!" snapped Bhaal, taking over the conversation again. "Cyreth, she's powerful."

"Well no..."

Bhaal overrode her. "Just remember her weak spot is..."

And that was when Syranthe, who was no longer Syranthe, struck.


Years of training and adventuring had honed her reflexes. When she had been fighting Irenicus, Bodhi, and even Melissan, or rather, Amelyssan, reflexes had been all that had saved her. In some fights, it no longer mattered how good you were, it all depended on how fast you were.
Cyreth snapped out of the conversation quickly enough to bring Angurdval up to meet those terrible blades. The swords clashed horribly, sending sparks flying into their owners' faces and all around them. The fighting grew quiet, as statue and man alike turned to view the deadly struggle. Valygar, taking advantage of the stunned situation, took off the heads of three statues in a row, and then made short work of the others. None even offered resistance.


Syranthe's eye blazed with a sickening explosion of nothingness. Cyreth's eyes were burning forests. The two hacked at each other, goddess against Bhaalspawn, evil against light. Deathmorn and Deatheve drank in the celestial power of the Celestial Fury, dimming Angurdval for a second as they struck together. Panting hate, Syranthe swung Deathmorn in a scythe towards Cyreth's head. She ducked, and lunged smoothly under the attack, preparing to impale her opponent on Angurdval.
As Deatheve, in the other hand, threatened to behead her, she changed her lunge into a roll, smoothly moving under the blade to attack from behind. They locked blades, then Syranthe snarled and kicked Cyreth's legs from under her. She scissored her legs as she fell, bringing Syranthe down with her. They both sprang up at the same time, but tripped over each other again in a clumsy move Cyreth cursed herself for.
Even though it looked comical, no-one laughed. The hatred and fury that blazed on both of their faces was beyond that. Hissing, Syranthe clawed out Deatheve again, Cyreth blocking with both Angurdval and Celestial Fury, throwing off Syranthe with a surge of strength. As she fell once more, she lashed out Deathmorn... and this time, Cyreth's reflexes did not save her.

Haer'Dalis wasn't watching the duel as much as he was trying to hold Dirk back. It was difficult. The two blades struggled precariously close to the edge of the balcony, only the tiefling's demonic strength keeping them back.

"Let me go," Dirk demanded. "Please! Just let me go!"

"Good to see you retain your manners in times like these," the tiefling muttered back.

"You've got to let me go! Let me go to her!"

"What is this, some poorly written ballad, my raven? You as a bard should be doing better."

"Haer'Dalis! What do you want? Why are you keeping me back, then?!"

"For both of your sakes, my raven," Haer'Dalis snapped, finally losing his temper. "Can't you see? You cannot interfere now, it would kill both of them!"

"What are you talking about?" Dirk hissed.

"For the power of your love, restrain yourself!" Haer'Dalis commanded. "This isn't just the average poem where you can go in and play hero! There is more to this fight than meets the eye... can't you see it?"

Dirk's eyes widened as Haer'Dalis' words hit him. And not just in the physical sense. As they focused on Syranthe and Cyreth dueling, Cyreth's blood now seeping down her side, Dirk saw the faintest flickerings of power dancing around them both in a crackling barrier.

"Not only would they die, but you would as well." Dirk heard the tiefling whisper in his ear. "You must wait."

"For what?" cried Dirk, wrenching his arm out of Haer'Dalis' grip, and crumpling to the floor in his helplessness. "Do you expect me to just watch her die?!"

The tiefling didn't answer.


Cyreth bit her lip. The blood trickled down her chin, sending a salty wave of taste into her throat. It stopped her from hissing in pain.
Poison. It all ended in poison, didn't it? She felt it corroding into her wounds, exhausting her. The last two weeks had been too much of a strain on her system. The poison encouraged her to lie down, to submit. Then it entered her mind.


"Cyreth..."

"Not another one of these conversations," groaned Cyreth. "I mean... it's bad enough talking to my father, but to an unknown goddess from another realm? Give me a BREAK!"

"Cyreth... "

"Yeah?"

"Cyreth..."

"What, the only word in your vocabulary?"

"Merely waiting for the poison to take over your mind," the goddess whispered matter-of-factly. "Now, obey me!"

Just as the blistering retort came to her throat, Cyreth froze. An overwhelming compulsion to give in to the voice washed over her. The voice was good... how had she been fooling herself? Give in... into sweet oblivion...

"You can feel it, can't you Cyreth?" the goddess purred. "You are nothing... but under my control... I'm in you..."

"No... you're... not..." gasped Cyreth, dropping her swords in real life. "You're not..."

"I'm in you. I was in you from the day you were born."

"Who..?"

"Hush... all will be explained. Just fall under my control..."

Cyreth sucked in a deep lungful of breath as she fought her own curiousity. She couldn't...

"Yes you can," soothed the goddess. "Why don't you trust me? Others have... and they've become more powerful than they ever dreamt."

And that was when the goddess made her mistake.


As Angurdval and Celestial Fury hit the floor, Dirk lunged forwards again, fear burning in sapphire eyes. The blue flame around him intensified, but he felt a hand clamp onto his arm once again.

"I need to go to her now! She's defenceless!"

"Not yet," Haer'Dalis stopped him implacably. "Wait."

Dirk slumped to the floor again.


Cyreth suddenly grinned. The goddess was taken aback. The half animalistic, half triumphant smile slowly spread across her face. She felt her vocal cords realign, snapping back under her control. She stood straight, eyes flashing defiantly, and then laughed.

"What?" snapped the goddess/Syranthe.

"You know," Cyreth grinned. "In the end... evil is always alike, did you know that? I've faced it. Millions and millions of times. I've become it... pure evil... but against my will. I've been devoured by it. I've dreamt it. I've seen evil more than most people see it a million times over."

The goddess was struck dumb.

"And I'm not afraid of it any more. No one knew... no one knew except for father and Imoen. No one ever knew. I was so afraid of myself. I was afraid of my power. Perhaps Irenicus... yes, he knew as well. He definitely knew. But I've always, always been afraid. And that's why I've faced evil so many times. But, in the end... again... it's always, always the same. And I always, always, manage to win."

"What do you mean?"

Cyreth ignored her... kept going.

"Because..." Cyreth picked up her swords, hefted them in her hands.

"You..." she walked one more step towards the goddess.

"Always..." she advanced towards the goddess and Syranthe.

"Think..." The clock hit 9 minutes and fifty five seconds.

"That..." The clock hit 9 minutes and fifty six seconds.

"I..." 9 minutes and fifty seven seconds.

"Want..." 9 minutes and fifty eight...

"Power..." 9 minutes and fifty nine...

Cyreth struck.


Dirk shot over the balcony ledge as Haer'Dalis let go. Just as Syranthe's blades went up, and Angurdval and Celestial Fury shattered, Dirk cut through the statues, running to where the two stood. Deathmorn and Deatheve both flashed down, as Cyreth stood, eyes calm with a sudden realization. Defenceless, she stared right into the spitting, hissing, whirling goddess' eyes.

Deatheve flew down.

Starmorn flew up.

Dirk had joined the fight.

But he hadn't deflected Deathmorn.



Haer'Dalis watched in satisfaction. He had actually pulled it off.

"Not yet," the Solar told him quietly.

"Close, though," Haer'Dalis replied back.

"I'm glad you've dispensed with the flowery language... makes it easier to understand you," chuckled Bhaal.

"I'm surprised you're laughing, oh former-god-of-murder," Haer'Dalis commented dryly. "Your daughter was almost killed back then."

Bhaal shook with silent laughter... and then something else.

"Why don't you just admit it, Bhaal?" the Solar shook her head in disgust. "You're proud of her... because she defeated the lust for power that you always had."

"Of course I'm proud of her," Bhaal snorted. "But I'm just clever enough not to tell her. I'd never hear the end of it."

"Don't start gloating yet," Haer'Dalis reprimanded the two. "It's not over."

Dirk whirled, parried, slashed, and cut. Tears threatened to blind him, but he refused to let them win. Cyreth lay around two feet behind him, thrown away by the violent explosion Deathmorn had caused when it hit her. Blood gushed down her side, and her shoulder. Her eyes were closed. No-one... not even Jaheira and Aerie, could help her. They were all locked in stasis.


Dirk was losing. He knew that as soon as he had started to fight. He knew that, although his swords were the only blades that could stand up to Deathmorn and Deatheve, that he was not the one destined to wield them. His hope sank to the pit of his stomach. He knew he could not win.
Syranthe, or the evil that she had become, knew that too. She had been weakened by Cyreth's rejection, but she was still strong. Power flooded through her aura, threatening to overwhelm her opponent.

And then Deathmorn crashed down on Stareve with a force that almost took off Dirk's hand. As it was, he let go as his fingers wrenched with pain. Stareve clattered away, and Dirk knew it would be death to go after it. Cursing out loud, he slashed Starmorn with increasing speed, whipping it towards Syranthe, yet pulling it back to defend himself.
At last, he saw an opening. He lunged forwards, and impaled the goddess, a sudden hope lighting in his soft sapphire eyes.
And then he froze.
His sword was right through her, yet she still grinned with an animal-like ferocity. She pulled herself deeper into the sword, closer. and Dirk tried to wrench it back. Deatheve raised itself above his head. Dirk prepared himself for oblivion.

And then a bloody apparition appeared behind Syranthe's back.
And Stareve hit the goddess in the empty cavity where her heart should have beat.
And the goddess let out a scream, and vanished.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 02 August 2004 - 11:31 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

[Sorry… I know the quality isn’t the best! However, I hope that you all have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! Cheers!]

Jaheira lay slumped against the sofa, groaning with a mixture of tiredness and relief. Looking around, she saw Imoen dangling her legs over her chair, laughing, with Aran's arms wrapped around her. Maria and Keldorn had stayed at the now cleansed Order, the darkness lifting the moment Stareve had plunged into the goddess. The statues had all crumbled to dust. Everywhere, unknown magic began to busily work, destroying all of the evil that the vampires had done to desecrate the Order.
But the magic could not take back the lives. Mass Resurrections had flooded the room, but still, only a few had responded. The rest had been crushed beyond recognition, their mangled corpses barely enough to warrant a grave. However, a hero's grave they got, the lot of them. Even Korgan, who hadn't exactly led the most noble of lives, was hailed as a hero. Jaheira sighed. The balance was back in place. She no longer felt the emptiness Khalid's death had left.
But she had also lost a purpose.
Cyreth and Dirk were murmuring quietly together. Jaheira winced. She could smell them both from five meters away, reeking with the smell of their own clotting blood. They hadn't even changed or bathed yet... and the fight had been over a day ago. She supressed the urge to walk up to them and tell them to bathe immediately.
As if her thoughts had suddenly made themselves known, Cyreth and Dirk both stood up and walked slowly upstairs to where the baths were. Jaheira felt a strange mix of maternal feelings well up inside her as they left. It seemed as if she was about to lose two of her charges in one fell swoop, and some part of her was reluctant to let them go.

"Jaheira?"

Long ago, Jaheira thought humorously, she had hated that voice. That whining, little, pathetic voice... but now, it was changed.

"Yes Aerie?"

"Where to now?"

"I guess that's for Cyreth to decide..."

Aerie laughed. "I've got the feeling neither Cyreth or Imoen will be journeying for a long, long time."

Jaheira gave a startled laugh, but for a different reason. "Heavens, child. Do you really believe that?"

Aerie let the 'child' pass. "Well why not? They certainly look as if they'll be... too... busy..."

"Adventuring's in their blood," Jaheira shrugged. "It is one thing that they cannot fight against. Believe me, Aerie, they will travel again. Their are too many wrongs to be righted."

"Wrongs to be righted? What happened to..?"

"Balance?" Jaheira laughed. "I've learnt a lot, it seems."

Silently, Aerie nodded. "So have we all."

Jaheira's eyes suddenly widened. "What happened to..?"

"I'm still here," Atheriel's lilting voice echoed from the shadows. She stepped out, as beautiful, cold, and deadly, as ever.

"Where were you?" exclaimed Aerie. "I looked for you all after the battle and I..."

"Today seems to be a day destined for me to cut people off," Atheriel smiled whimsically, showing her fangs accidentally. Self conscious, she shut her mouth promptly, and then went slowly on.

"Well... Anomen and I had a little something to retrieve."

"Anomen?!"

"I remember reading the Vampiricus whatever book a long time ago," the Knight drawled lazily from the door. "It seems to me that Atheriel wants to be restored."

Aerie gasped. "But..."

Atheriel cut her off again. "Yes, I know."

"You'll..."

"He's explained everything to me."

"Including the fact that someone has to kill you before you can be restored?"

Determination set into Atheriel's eyes. "Yes."

"Why the sudden change in heart?" Haer'Dalis ambled up to them.

"Why the sudden change in speech?" Atheriel retorted.

"How did you knowest mine tone, years before?"

"I just knew."

"Ah."

Jaheira rolled her eyes. It looked as if this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere too soon.


*************************Two weeks later******************************


Dirk fidgeted nervously. He remembered having to wear such finery a long, long, long time ago. With Halren, he'd merely just worn a coarse shirt, jacket, and trousers. Now, with the uncomfortable suit and the soft leather boots, he felt like a noble pansy. He trusted the mirror more than Anomen, Aran, Haer'Dalis, and Minsc... and Boo. What would a hamster know about fashion anyway?
"I can't wear this!"

"Yes you can," Anomen clapped him heartily on the back. "You look fine."

"Nice work," laughed Aran. "Well, you're going to have one very impressed...

"Please, Aran," Dirk blushed crazily.

"I must say, my raven," Haer'Dalis grinned, resplendent in almost matching clothes. "Nobility doth become you."

"No way," Dirk shuddered. "I can't go out in public looking like this!"

"Boo says you look very good."

"Perhaps Boo would like to wear these instead," Dirk laughed wryly.

"He fears it would be too big a fit..."


********************************************************************

Cyreth didn't even have the comfort of memories to know that she'd worn such finery before. The dress was beautiful, she admitted. The shimmering, pure, pearl color set off her hazel hair splendidly, bringing a fresh sparkle into her emerald eyes. It moulded to her body in a perfect fit, but... it just didn't feel right. She knew.

"You look gorgeous, sis," giggled Imoen.

"You look great," Cyreth complimented her.

"I hate this dress," Imoen tossed back.

"You both look good," admitted Jaheira.

"Very nice," approved Aerie.

"Beautiful," Maria murmured.

"By all the Gods," Cyreth near-exploded. "Can't I get a honest opinion here? Atheriel?"

"Marianne," she corrected.

"Sorry, Marianne," apologized Cyreth. "I'm going to have a few slip-ups here and there..."

"That's okay."

"I'm just too used to you being an arch-enemy," Cyreth joked. "Well..? Your honest opinion?"

Marianne let a grin crack across her now slightly tanned features. "You both look great."

The whole room burst into laughing as Cyreth groaned.

********************************************************************

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"Second thoughts about this dress," Imoen grumbled. "But, no. Are you?"

"No, why would I be?"

"Well, if you're not, why are you asking me?"

"I... don't know."

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting!"

"Stop haggling, children," Jaheira rolled her eyes. "It'll all be fine."

"No it won't," Imoen fretted. "What happens if Aran changes his mind?"

"Are you serious?" gasped Cyreth. "He's crazy about you!"

"He's Shadowmaster of Athkatla, Cyreth."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's a thief."

"So?"

"Never mind," Imoen threw up her hands in disbelief.

********************************************************************

"It seems like you're nervous, my ravens," Haer'Dalis noted.

"Well of course we're nervous!" Aran burst out. "We've never been..."

Haer'Dalis laughed knowingly. "Of course."

"I look like a complete fop," Dirk complained.

"Oh stop that," Aran groaned. "I do too... although I've had to dress up in far, far worse stuff for spying."

Dirk raised an eyebrow, a shadow of his former self showing through. "Oh really? And I take it that you mean..."

"I can't understand how women bear to wear corsets," Aran muttered.

The room burst into laughing... this time, slightly nervously.

********************************************************************

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod..."

"Will you stop hyperventilating?" Jaheira demanded irritably. "It's not the end of the world. I don't want you to faint midway, and I don't want to have to heal you if you start suffocating."

"Immy, calm down," Cyreth grinned nervously.

"You calm down too, then!" Imoen retorted nervously.

Marianne just looked at them all, amusement spreading across her lips. "Why do I find it so ironic that the two famous Bhaalspawn sisters can face Irenicus, Amylessan, Sarevok, and countless others, but they can't face getting..."

"Don't say it!" pleaded Imoen, cutting her off in mid-sentence. "Please... that'll make it less real!"

"Are you sure that he'll turn up?" worried Aerie.

"He'll turn up," Cyreth assured her with all of the confidence she could muster.

"We'd look awfully silly otherwise," Imoen muttered.

"He might get a laugh out of that..."

"It's time," Keldorn told them softly.

Cyreth and Imoen looked at each other, a sudden agreement flaring in their eyes.

"We're not doing this."

"WHAT?!?!"

********************************************************************

"It's time," Anomen told them softly.

Dirk and Aran looked at each other, a sudden agreement flaring in their eyes.

"We're not doing this."

"WHAT?!?!"

********************************************************************

The whole of Athkatla and more had turned out to watch the grand event. Word had spread fast that the two famous Bhaalspawn sisters were getting married. Word had spread even faster, try as Aran might to quell it, that the Shadowmaster of Athkatla was tying the knot. Dirk, wrapped in annonymity, was even more intriguing to the women of Athkatla, who were preparing themselves to die of jealousy. The men, meanwhile, wished for a mere glimpse of the fabled beauty of the Bhaalspawn. Others were grateful people whom all four of them had helped. Many were drawn in by the curiousity of who would escort the brides down the aisle.
Others...
But they never got through the door. Anomen stood behind, detecting evil along with Marianne. When an assassin walked through the temple doors, they were promptly bashed over the head and thrown into a room that rapidly became filled.

The temple was huge, but the pews were crowded and many had to stand. The nobles gasped at the choice. It was a careful, calculated attack in itself to stage a Bhaalspawn wedding in a temple dedicated to all of the good and neutral gods, and none of the evil. It was almost inviting revenge, but it seemed the reckless Bhaalspawn didn't care. People kept crowding in, until Keldorn was forced to quietly ask some of the priests to open the windows, lest all of them suffocate.
Noise enveloped them all, with nobles chatting and ladies gossiping about the reputed handsomeness of Aran Linvail, Shadowmaster, and the mysterious Dirk with no last name. Neither the bridegrooms nor the brides were present. The bridegrooms would enter, the crowd knew, through a door close to the altar at the same time the brides would come. No-one knew how the timing would be so exquisite.

And then the crowd hushed as organ music began its sonorous descent, cloaking all but the merest whispers. Sir Ryan Trawl strode to the pulpit to address all of them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Athkatla and Amn... and... well... Toril," Sir Ryan Trawl laughed. "Today, we have gathered here to commemorate and celebrate the joint wedding of four true heroes..."

A vast cheer spread over the crowd. The doors were silently shut. Anomen and Marianne scuttled off to their respective places.

"And so... we begin!"

The doors slowly and creakingly opened, pulled by two employed ushers. Keldorn's children, now almost full grown, served as flower girls, scattering the pews and the aisle with petals. Jaheira came next, resplendent in a beautiful silk dress. Behind her, came Aerie, her mage robes draping around her in perfect bridesmaid garb. Then Maria, in deepest blue walked stately forwards. Then Marianne followed her, raising small gasps of astonishment. Her crimson red dress was the only difference between her and her twin sister.
The ladies sighed with a strange mix of agony and pleasure. The dresses were beautiful. They were all sure to cause an uprising of similar styles in the months to come. However, what many of the ladies were also here for were for the brides' dresses. Each and every one of them promised themselves silently that they would copy every single stitch of the bridal dresses, and wear them with pride.

The best men filed out of the door. Minsc fidgeted uncomfortably in his blue cloak and dark, almost leathery brown doublet. Anomen wore his formal Order suit, with no armor gracing his sober form. Haer'Dalis caused a multitude of ladies to sigh, and speculations about his marital statues, also earning a few black looks from the men. Keldorn stepped out gravely, in his best suit.
Now, only four people were missing.

The music kept going.

People grew impatient.

And then, finally, a huge trumpet blast careered sonorously around the temple, the echoes bouncing everywhere in a cacophony of joy. Imoen, Cyreth, Aran, and Dirk, took a deep breath, and stepped into the temple.

Ladies craning their heads gasped.

The men looked visibly shocked.

Some of them fainted.

Cyreth, Dirk, Aran, and Imoen, grinned and then gasped in their turn as their eyes fell on each other.

Imoen was dressed in her tight black top and pants, her brown girdle firmly cinching in the middle. The Gesen bow was slung across her shoulders. The Sword of the Mask lay in a sheath at her waist.

A few ladies fainted as they saw the stiletto of the Demarchess glitter where it lay, strapped to her belt, with no sheath.

Aran was in his assassin's garb. He grinned as he saw shocked faces everywhere. Completely black, the only thing that differed from full assassin wear was that he had no hood. A leather belt was slung across shoulder, hidden by his jacket. As he moved, more ladies fainted as they saw the gleaming layers of assorted daggers glint.

Dirk was his normal, unassuming self, in his swirling silver cloak. His hard travelling boots were not spattered in mud for once, yet Starmorn and Stareve lay hooked at his belt and at his shoulder. A small circlet held back some of his dark brown hair, a single sapphire glimmering in the middle. Intricate elven chain flashed from underneath his cloak, the second Asylerfund chain. He had made one more indeed…

Cyreth was dressed in her dark brown leather pants, her adventuring emerald top bringing out the green in her eyes. The repaired Angurdval and Celestial Fury clanked in their respective places. Her hazel hair waved free, caught only by a small circlet that matched Dirk’s, only with an emerald set in it. But what outraged truly outraged the nobles was her armour. Dirk’s burnished armour they could just take… on a man. Armour on a bride going to a wedding?!

The last soft ‘thumps’ were heard as they stood serenely in the doorway. Then slowly, Imoen and Cyreth moved up the aisle, Cyreth feeling a horrible pang in her side.

He had promised...

And then, Bhaal appeared, his figure slightly transparent. More ladies fainted. Some of the men did as well. Fully garbed in his huge armour, he strode between Cyreth and Imoen, their arms firmly linked.

"Well, daughters, I must say this is going well. We've shocked the whole of Toril. I haven't had such fun in many a year."

"You're late."

"It got the effect I wanted.

The ceremony seemed to take too long. More than three-quarters of the noblewomen never saw the whole thing. Those who hadn’t already fainted, fainted when Aran exaggeratedly yawned, hitching his jacket up to display another row of blades.

They had been standing there for over an hour. The priest was certainly extraordinarily brave. He had four adventurers in full garb, an number of rather deadly men and women as bridesmaids and best men, and a dead God of Murder in perfect place to exercise some power if they got bored. He finally got the hint when Aran coughed and started checking his blades. The steely rustling only served to make more ladies faint. Cyreth rolled her eyes.
And then finally… it ended. Well... almost.

"Do you take Dirk and Aran as your lawfully wedded husbands?"

"I'll take Dirk, you take Aran," grinned Cyreth.

Imoen laughed.

The priest looked nonplussed. "Is that an 'I do' or not?"

"I do."

"I do."

"Do you take Cyreth and Imoen as your lawfully wedded wives?"

"Lawfully or not, she's mine anyway," Aran grinned.

Bhaal thought about saying something about his paternal feelings, and then decided that there was no need to cause more women to faint.

"Is that an I do or not?"

"I do."

"I do."

"You may now kiss..."

They never waited. Those who remained conscious burst into cheering as Aran and Dirk caught Imoen and Cyreth in a passionate kiss.

The rest of the noblewomen fainted as Bhaal sighed and vanished before his paternal instincts took over. He would talk to Aran and Dirk later.

Cyreth and Imoen threw their bunches of flowers, there was more cheering, and then finally, they exited the hall, and their loyal friends began the task of waking up all those who'd fainted.
It was the beginning of a new life.

********************************************************************

It is interesting to note than none of the noblewomen went through with their silent promises of copying the bridal dresses…

It is also interesting to note that many ladies never got over the shock, and the Bhaalspawn sisters became a household name of disdain amongst Athkatla nobles. It is also interesting to note that they didn’t care.

However, it is most interesting to note that it was most scandalous wedding in the whole history of Toril.

Edited by Shadowhawke, 06 July 2004 - 10:58 PM.

[Shadowhawke]

EPILOGUE

[WARNING! This section contains some, uh... well, references to sex. If you get offended, skip those parts!]

It was past midnight before Boo could convince Minsc to go to sleep. Bleary eyed and most admittedly drunk, Minsc swayed to a strange rhythm as he stumbled up the stairs to his own room. However, he wasn't so drunk as he could hear strange noises coming from the two bridal rooms, and he wasn't so drunk as to not blush unashamedly.

"Best get you away from this, Boo," Minsc slurred slightly. "These aren't for your innocent little ears. You're too young for this, right now."

The protesting squeak made Minsc shudder in horror, and then relax slightly.
"Yes, I agree, Boo. It was a very good wedding... hang on, is that only because that pretty lady fainted right next to you?! Boo... you naughty boy... oh, I see. It's because of the pretty hamster the pretty lady had? Boo?"
Minsc sighed as he kept on, stumbling past the two bridal rooms, past Keldorn's, Imoen's, and more. In the final room before his own, he realized that strange noises were coming from there as well. He shook his head in disbelief. What was Anomen..?

"Boo, best get inside soon," Minsc mumbled, opening his door and closing it. The ranger fell on his bed in relief, knowing that he'd have one huge hangover from the midnight revelries to come. He hoped Jaheira and Aerie might have their magic potion to cure all headaches ready...


"Isn't this strange?" Marianne asked him, staring out the window. "I've heard... recent reports about your past. If they are true... then you have certainly changed."

"Changed I have," Anomen whispered softly, looking downwards at his feet. "I... feel that Helm is pleased with me now. I don't have this... overwhelming blackness inside. I guess I learnt... that... to judge others is really to judge to parts in me that I don't like."

Marianne raised an eyebrow. "That seems very strange coming from you."

"From the Anomen of the past, yes," Anomen admitted. "But then, things have changed."

"Yes, things have definitely changed," Marianne sighed as she leaned back on her chair, shivering slightly from the cool Amnish air that breezed in from the window.

"Here, take my cloak," Anomen unslung his blue garment and laid it over Marianne's shoulders. The sudden touch between them was electrical, and Anomen almost gasped.

"I don't think I'll be needing it," Marianne smiled softly.

Anomen decided to actually gasp this time, as Marianne's hand reached up to enclose his, still on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"You're... so... warm..."

"I'm not a vampire anymore, Anomen. You don't have to sound so shocked," Marianne laughed.

"I know you're not a vampire," Anomen chuckled lightly. "I helped you, remember?"

"You know, dying at your hands must have been one of the most erotic moments of my life..."

The scandalous look that passed Anomen's face as she said the words made Marianne chuckle evilly.

"But... my lady..." stammered Anomen.

Marianne stood up, not removing his hand, turned around, and kissed him. The knight went a soft pink. "What... my lady..?"

"Shut up, Anomen," whispered Marianne. "You talk too much."

********************************************************************

The moonlight spilled over the window's rim. Dirk and Cyreth sat, entwined on the bed, drinking it in.

"Will you finally tell me what the Star Wolves are, Dirk?" asked Cyreth.

Dirk put a soft fingertip on her lips. "It's not the time, Cyreth. However, it's the time for other things."

"What we've done has certainly been a bit... rushed," Cyreth admitted.

Dirk smiled and slowly kissed her, reveling in the knowledge that this time no-one would disturb them...

********************************************************************

The armour took the longest to undo. When it was done, they lay together. Anomen was just about to peel off his top when something delightfully fragrant brushed past his nose.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's that smell? That beautiful smell?"

"Oh..." Marianne blushed. Then, she retrieved something from where her own cloak lay.

Anomen's eyes widened. It was Imoen's bouquet.

"Well then..."

Marianne smiled.

********************************************************************

It was soft this time, and trusting. The knowledge that no-one would interrupt them made them gentler than ever. They had all the time in the world rolled into one night, and the nightingales outside were singing as if to break their hearts. Dirk slowly smoothed out Cyreth's brow.

"You stress too much, my love. Relax."

"Relax? How can I relax with you sitting so close?" Cyreth smiled mischievously. "And don't think to throw me off topic. You should know my curiousity by now. What ARE the Star Wolv...?"

Dirk answered with another kiss, intimate, and knowing. Cyreth sighed, and then let herself be lost in the beauty of it.

"You're so tense," Dirk noted. "Here, let me."

Standing quietly, he strode around and began to rub her shoulders. She rolled them backwards until Dirk saw her upturned face.

"You're so perfect," Dirk whispered, stroking her curving cheekbone.

"Perfect?" laughed Cyreth. "Far from it. You, on the other hand..."

Dirk felt her shoulders tense again. "You, on the other hand," he overrode her gently. "Are too tense. Relax, there's nothing to be..."

It cut through the night like a firebrand through ice. Instinctively, Cyreth and Dirk rolled in opposite directions, coming to their feet with a catlike grace. Starmorn and Angurdval gleamed in the darkness. With his shining sword, Dirk slowly and cautiously ventured closer to the bed.

The arrow had stuck in the center of the headboard. Dirk's eyes darkened to a dusky sapphire as he pulled off the note.

"Veldrin sends his greetings."

They heard a rustle by the window, and then a shadow disappearing into the night.


THE END

Edited by Shadowhawke, 11 July 2004 - 06:35 PM.