Baldur's Gate II Throne of Bhaal (5 page)

As if responding to his inner realization, the mists parted slightly to reveal the outlines of several doors

standing upright within the clouds. Abdel hesitated, then approached. The words of the cloaked being from his dream came back to Abdel—this place was Bhaal’s realm, a plane in the Abyss once ruled by the Lord of Murder, shaped by the will of Abdel’s evil, immortal father.

Despite this, Abdel still felt he had little to fear from simply examining a door. Actually opening the portal, Abdel noted to himself, was another matter entirely.

How could he open a door that wasn’t attached to anything? Each of the portals just hung in the air with no frame, no walls, no hinges. Just the doors, five in all. Built from solid, stout oak they were remarkable in neither size nor shape. They bore no ornamentation save for a simple, functional handle. In fact, there was nothing unusual about the doors at all—except for their surroundings, or lack of surroundings, to be more precise.

Abdel sheaved his great sword and cautiously circled the free-standing portals, looking for something. He didn’t find it.

“Hello?” he called out at last, not sure whether he expected the being from his dream to appear and answer him. His voice echoed back at him from the gray mists.

“Is anybody here?” Abdel called again.

The voice that came back to him from the mist was not the chorus of the creature that he expected, but it was a voice Abdel recognized all too well.

“I am here, brother. As are you.”

A figure emerged from the mist, a man from Abdel’s past. He was clad from head to toe in black, metal armor. Many of the heavy iron plates were adorned with razor-sharp blades, making the suit both a defensive and offensive instrument of war. The fierce warrior stood well over seven feet tall, one of the few humans who had ever been able to look Abdel directly in the eye. Their similarity of stature was not surprising, given that the man was Abdel’s half brother whom Abdel had killed in the town of Baldur’s Gate—Sarevok.

Sarevok had not stepped out from the cover of the obscuring mist into view as Abdel might have expected. He had coalesced into view, solidifying into existence not ten feet in front of Abdel’s disbelieving eyes.

Abdel shook his head and tightened his grip on his sword, ignoring the flare of pain that shot up through his injured left arm and into his shoulder. “I killed you,” he said, half to himself. “You’re dead.”

His half brother laughed in a deep, joyless rumble. “And was not your lover, Jaheira, once dead as well, my brother? Yet the priests of Gond brought her back. Death is not always the end.”

At least he wasn’t armed, Abdel noticed. The dark blade Sarevok had wielded during their duel beneath Baldur’s Gate was nowhere to be seen. Still, the big sellsword didn’t drop his guard. If Abdel was careless enough to let his half brother get in too close, the vicious metal blades fashioned into the iron plates of Sarevok’s armor were capable of inflicting horrendous injuries. Abdel was once again very conscious of his ability to be harmed.

“What are you doing here?” Abdel demanded.

“Waiting for you. I knew you would return to this empty plane of our father, Abdel, and so I waited.”

Sarevok’s words were intriguing, but Abdel knew all too well the deceitful nature of his half brother. Sarevok was evil incarnate. The blood of countless innocents was on his massive hands. He had plotted Abdel’s own demise, once. He had been responsible for the death of Jaheira’s husband. He had even nearly killed Jaheira herself.

The dark-armored warrior had masterminded a campaign of slaughter and terror up and down the Sword Coast. His machinations had nearly caused a senseless war between the towns of Nashkel and Baldur’s Gate—a war of sacrifice and blood that Sarevok had hoped would bring their father back to life.

All this was nothing to Abdel. Death, war, attempts on his life and the lives of his companions—Abdel’s entire life had centered around such things. Sarevok, however, had other blood on his hands. Sarevok had arranged the murder of Gorion, Abdel’s mentor and adopted father, the one person in Abdel’s life who had sought to steer him away from the violence and atrocities that accompanied his birthright. Despite all his other crimes, it was for Gorion’s death that Abdel had killed Sarevok.

Abdel wasn’t about to let a second chance to avenge Gorion’s death pass by.

“You waited a long time just so I could kill you again,” he said, taking a quick step toward Sarevok and bringing his broadsword to bear. Abdel was nothing but a blur of furious movement, but Sarevok simply stepped out of range, slapping the blade down with a heavy mailed fist.

The cold, emotionless laugh of Sarevok caused Abdel to stumble back, anticipating a counterattack, but Sarevok made no move toward him.

“I see your impulsive nature has not changed, Abdel. You may vent your rage on me yet again, if you wish … though your efforts will be for naught.” Sarevok’s voice still had the deep resonance Abdel remembered, it still carried an ominous undercurrent of implied violence, in every word. Yet somehow the voice had changed. It lacked the malevolent chill, the hiss of pure evil that had sent shivers of loathing down Abdel’s spine in the past.

Using his sword to cut tight circles in the air in front of him, Abdel moved warily forward. All he needed was one opportunity, a single opening he could use to drive his sword between the iron plates of his brother’s armor.

‘You cannot kill me here, Abdel,” Sarevok assured him, seemingly oblivious of Abdel’s approach. “When you slew me in the mortal realm, I became a part of you. I became part of this empty world. Even if you chop me into a million pieces, I will still be here.”

Abdel let his weapon speak for him, hacking savagely at his half brother’s waist. Sarevok made no move to defend himself, but stood in place and welcomed the attack. The blade slashed into the dark armor, carved effortlessly through Sarevok’s torso, and emerged from the other side.

Abdel stepped back to avoid the geyser of blood that would erupt from his dismembered foe’s lower extremities, but there was no blood. The upper half of Sarevok’s body did not topple over and collapse twitching on the gray ground. Abdel’s opponent simply dissolved, vanishing from existence in the same manner he had appeared.

“When you are done with this foolery, I have an offer for you, Abdel.”

The voice came from behind him this time. Abdel dropped and rolled forward, away from an anticipated attack at his unprotected back. Coming out of his roll, he twisted his body so that he was now facing his opponent as he sprang to his feet.

Sarevok stood motionless, looking exactly as he had before Abdel had tried to cut him in two.

Abdel considered attacking again. He had yet to meet an opponent he couldn’t beat down with sheer brute force. He had never fought an incorporeal spirit in the abandoned nether plane of a dead god before. Reluctantly, Abdel had to face the possibility that this was a situation he couldn’t solve with his sword. Slowly, his eyes focused warily on the motionless form of his half brother, and Abdel lowered his sword.

“There is no point in fighting a ghost.”

“Ghost?” Sarevok seemed amused by the word, though his voice reflected no change in its cold monotone. “Yes, I suppose I am a ghost, though not in the common sense of the word. We can help each other, Abdel. We each have something the other needs.”

Now it was Abdel’s turn to laugh—a harsh, bitter

sound. “I will never help you, Sarevok. You can offer me nothing I might need.”

“Rash as ever, Abdel, that is the fire of our father burning within you. Unlike you, my brother, I am no longer consumed by the flames of hate and bloodlust. You purged me of Bhaal’s taint. For that, I thank you.”

Uncertain of how to react to the unexpected, though somewhat emotionless, gratitude of the man he had killed, Abdel remained silent.

“Do not dismiss my offer out of passion and recklessness, Abdel. I have information you need. And in the end, I assure you, my offer will benefit you much more than it will me.”

“Information?” Abdel asked, his curiosity piqued. “What kind of information?”

“How you may escape this dead world of our father, for one thing. But there is more, Abdel, much more.”

Abdel scowled, knowing Sarevok had made a point he could not easily dismiss. Abdel had no idea how he had come to this gray, empty plane. He had no clue how to return to Jaheira and Imoen in the mortal world. Part of him was still leery about striking a bargain with this mortal enemy from his past.

“And what do you need of me?” Abdel asked.

Sarevok took a half step forward. The metal plates of his armor shrieked as he brought his arms up. Instinctively, Abdel brought his sword into a defensive position and dropped into a fighting crouch.

Sarevok mimicked the movement, stiffly dropping to one knee, his arms still outstretched, the palms facing upward. It took a second before Abdel realized his half brother wasn’t taking an aggressive stance— he was making an offer of supplication. Sarevok was begging him.

“I need you, Abdel Adrian,” the big man implored, “to restore me to life.”

The words struck Abdel like a stiff slap. His massive

head snapped back in shock. The request was ludicrous, offensive.

“Never!” he shouted. “You are a monster, Sarevok. A creature of pure death and evil. Only a fool would restore you to life so you could resume your slaughtering.”

“Please, Abdel,” Sarevok replied without any noticeable change in the inflection of his voice, though his arms were still outstretched in a pathetic effort to win sympathy from the half brother he had so greatly wronged. “I am not the being I was. When you knew me, I had ceased to be a man. I was but a vessel, a conduit for the horror of Bhaal. The taint of our dark father had overwhelmed me. My very identity had been consumed by the inferno of hate, bloodlust, and madness. I was not Sarevok, I was a demon in human form.”

“You’re lying! You just want to avoid responsibility for all the death and destruction you brought about!”

Sarevok shook his head, rose wearily from his knee and lowered his arms before resuming his pleas in his deep, passionless monotone. “I knew the joy of killing long before Bhaal’s taint utterly consumed me,” he admitted. “I am, and always will be, an instrument of violence. During all my days, during all my travels, death ever followed in my wake. Yet could not the same be said of you, Abdel Adrian? Were we really so different?”

Abdel took an involuntary step back, physically rejecting Sarevok’s accusation. Despite his reaction, Abdel knew Sarevok spoke the truth. Many times the sellsword had felt the blinding fury of his father’s essence touch his own soul. Many times he had felt the claws of the Lord of Murder’s spirit wrap themselves around his own heart. He understood the eternal struggle to resist the evil within himself, the war to maintain his own identity when he unleashed the rage within and allowed the crimson ocean of Bhaal’s taint to drown his mind.

Abdel had emerged from each struggle against his inner evil victorious so far. Was it possible Sarevok had

once been like himself but had succumbed to Bhaal’s taint? Had Sarevok become a mortal manifestation of Bhaal himself, a creature no longer responsible for its actions?

Taking advantage of Abdel’s prolonged silence, Sarevok continued pleading his case. “When you ended my mortal existence, Abdel, you released my spirit from the hells. But instead of freedom, I found myself here— trapped in this limbo that was once Bhaal’s realm.

“Since the day of my death I have waited here, knowing you too would one day come to this place. My soul is linked to yours, Abdel, joined by our shared heritage and my death by your hand. I knew you would return, and I have waited here for you, for another chance. A chance to live not as a vessel for Bhaal’s hate and desire, but as myself.”

“I… I don’t know if I can believe you.” To his own surprise, Abdel said the words almost with regret.

Sarevok nodded. “I understand. You have no reason to trust me. So I will give you a sign of my good faith. I will tell you how to leave this realm so that you may return to the mortal world and those you left behind.”

Jaheira! Imoen. The mention of his companions sparked a sudden urgency in Abdel. How long had he been here, in this void? What if the woman he had killed was not the only one hunting them? What if there were more of those mutated wolf creatures lurking in the forest?

“Tell me how to get back!”

Sensing his brother’s anxiousness, Sarevok offered reassurance. “Your companions are safe, Abdel. They are in no immediate danger. I will tell you how to go back. Then, if you wish, you may simply leave, and I will not try to stop you. I only ask that you listen to the rest of my offer before you go.”

“It’s a deal,” Abdel answered immediately, eager to say anything to expedite his return to Jaheira’s side.

“The doors are the key, Abdel,” Sarevok explained. “Merely approach them and concentrate. Will yourself to be back in the mortal realm.”

“Which door?” Abdel asked.

“It does not matter. The doors themselves are symbols. They represent the possibilities and the potential of this realm—and of yourself.”

Abdel never even hesitated. He simply turned his back on Sarevok and marched toward the nearest door, consciously trying to envision himself stepping through and reappearing in the clearing where he had left Jaheira and Imoen.

“You made a promise, Abdel,” Sarevok called out, making him pause.

He owed Sarevok nothing. Gorion’s death was, to Abdel, the worst of his half brother’s crimes, but it was not the only one. There was no reason to stay, he should keep walking and leave Sarevok to rot in the void.

“Do you remember my last words to you beneath Baldur’s Gate, Abdel? Do you remember what I said as you drove your sword into my heart?” Sarevok asked. “I told you there were others like us, Abdel, other Children of Bhaal who walk the world. You must seek them out if you want answers, Abdel.”

The words of Sarevok, so similar to those of the great being in his dream, caused Abdel to turn and face his half brother.