Makings of a Monster

Sarevok was practically a man now. He may have been only 16 years old, but he was as taller and bulkier than Reiltar already, and growing up fast. His voice was deep, and he was a real warrior. Oh, he still said 'yes, father' and did his stepfather's bidding, but what he saw in Reiltar's eyes pleased him greatly. Though Reiltar would never admit it, deep down the man was afraid of him. He had power and resources, but what he didn't have was Sarevok's inner strength - and the godsblood, frightening and alluring at the same time.

He and Winski planned to travel to Candlekeep and research Alaundo's prophecies once they would have the funds and time to do so. It might still take years, though. The secrets kept within those walls were expensive to study, and the travel would take some time. He knew about Winski's growing lack of enthusiasm about Iron Throne, and Jelena's feelings had been plain enough a long time. He himself kind of enjoyed the approval of many he had, but this was because of his natural skill as a warrior. What Reiltar did didn't seem interesting to him: all talking and sitting and planning. He didn't have patience for things like that.

Being part of the mercenary forces was irritating sometimes, as Sarevok didn't much like taking orders. He preferred clandestine assignments he had used to take part in as a child. All things considered, he wouldn't miss much if he left the Iron Throne behind. He could be employed as a warrior anywhere, and Reiltar had to go. Sarevok's hatred for his stepfather was welded into his soul and burned him inside. He believed he could only be released of it when Reiltar would be dead.
The atmosphere in the house was tense, and everyone avoided really discussing anything. Reiltar was away a lot, which was fine for the rest of them.

Contemplating possibilities that lay in front of him he overheard a discussion between two other mercenaries.
- "The new one? A woman from Kara-Tur?"
- "Yeah, she has this odd sword, slightly curved and thin, and another shorter one. I wonder how she can fight with gear like that, as her suit of armor is light as well. Or if she can."
- "But she sure is a looker, or so they say."
The men grinned.
Sarevok's curiosity was piqued by the discussion. He knew next to nothing of Kara-Tur. It was far in east, and silken garments were exported from there. He had seen some Kara-Turan people with their slanted almond eyes and olive skins. The weapons of the woman sounded interesting. Perhaps he could ask her to show him how to fight with them, though he liked his two-handed sword many men were not strong enough to wield.

He wandered vaguely about, trying not to be too obviously looking for the newcomer. He saw a small crowd at the training grounds. They were watching a spar between the captain who had taught Sarevok - and the most beautiful and graceful creature Sarevok had ever seen. He almost felt as if his heart stopped beating, and he stopped in his tracks. The woman was slender, rather small, and moved more beautifully than any warrior Sarevok had ever seen. Some thieves possessed her grace, but not many. Her black, shiny hair glinted in the sun. Her mouth was sensuous, but at the moment it told of determination and concentration. Her exotic almond eyes were wise and lively, a little sad, and she never missed a move the captain made.

Her way of fighting was fascinating to watch. It seemed as if she didn't really do much, but most of the time she managed to make just a small move and not be there when the captain hit. And then she took advantage of the force of her opponent's attack and used it against him, letting his own mistakes be his downfall. She took hits too, but was a good match to the seasoned armsmaster. After a while of sparring they called it off, and the captain spoke.
- "Well, Tamoko. You certainly can use those odd weapons well enough. And this fighting style of yours is something I have never seen before. You will be a good addition to our forces, I believe."
- "Thank you. This is how people of my clan fight."
- "I guess there is an awful lot you can tell about that homeland of yours."
Tamoko made a halfsmile, nodded courteously and sheathed the swords. She was sweaty, disheveled and out of breath, but she was the loveliest woman Sarevok had ever seen.

He approached her, trying to look confident and as if he talked to women casually, all the time. Damn, why did it feel so embarrassing? If it was a man from Kara-Tur, he'd have no problem to greet him, introduce himself and ask about the exotic weapons.
- "Um, excuse me..."
Tamoko stopped her stride and turned to Sarevok, an enquiring expression on her face.
- "Yes?"
- "My name is Sarevok Anchev and I wanted to..." oh, damn! What DID he want? Why didn't he plan this better! And all the time the woman was watching with that halfsmile and wise and a little sad eyes as Sarevok's face reddened.
- "Yes, Sarevok? Perhaps you wanted to ask about my weapons?" she helped, grinning a little.
- "Yes, yes, that's exactly it!" Phew.
- "My name is Tamoko. Daidoji Tamoko. We say the family name first in my country. And this...." she unsheathed the longer sword, "is my katana."

Sarevok examined the sword. It was very beautifully crafted, and it had a magic enchantment.
- "It has belonged to my family for centuries." Her eyes seemed more sad as she mentioned her family. What was she doing so far away from home?
- "It is a very beautiful weapon."
Tamoko nodded. She seemed to be very proud of the sword.
- "This is my wakizashi." She pulled the smaller sword from her sash. Sarevok glanced at the sword, then stared at her. A moment of silence.
- "So, Sarevok, if there isn't anything else I..." she started to leave.
- "No, no, wait!"
- "Yes?"
Oh gods. This is awful.
- "Would you like to... spar with me? I mean, obviously not today but..."
- "Sure thing. Tomorrow noon?"
- "All right."

Tamoko left Sarevok to recover from his boldness. He could have sworn that the woman was smiling a little as she left.