Cards Reshuffled

Torment of the body can be terrible, yes. I should know. But no matter how fiendish it might be there is one person who is better equipped to harm you than anybody else, and can torture you far more insidiously than any demon prince. And all you need to do to face that person is to look inside a mirror.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

How had he got here? For that matter, where was ‘here’? Sarevok shook his head, trying to think straight. He could remember marching in the demonic army, determined to break away, to get free. And…yes, he had freed himself. The army had been crossing a mountain range where the ground split into deep gorges filled with bubbling blood, and where the air tore at your lungs like shards of broken glass. And there had been mist, yes. Thick mist the color of pus, thick enough to obscure his movements. There had been a cleft in the rock up ahead, and he had seen his chance, stepping out of his place in the squad, as quietly as he could. He could remember how desperate he had been to avoid discovery, pressing his back flat against the dark stone even as it cut into his flesh. For once he wished he had been trained in the skills of a rogue, and able to hide in plain sight. But the mist had served him well, and the army had passed on without him.

Under other circumstances the demons would probably have come looking for him, in order to punish the deserter if nothing else. But they had been in a rush, and they wouldn’t have noticed him missing until they had already gone too far to take the trouble of hunting him down. But somebody else must have found me…else how could I have wound up in this state?

The rock was still there, right up against his back. Except now he was tightly chained to it, massive iron shackles tethering him to the cliff, arms, legs and throat. Sarevok tugged at his restraints with all his might, grunting with the exertion. It was all to no avail, he remained just as tightly chained as before. I will not suffer this! Nobody chains Sarevok! Nobody! The memories were creeping back now, slowly and insidiously. Yes, he had been hiding from the Blood War army, pressing himself against the black rock. And then…the rock had suddenly pressed back, become liquid and flowed out to entrap him, forming these same chains and shackles. He had fought against it, but even his great strength had not been enough to free himself. Moreover, the more he fought, the more he felt his strength leaking out of him, leaving him weak and helpless. Eventually he had fallen unconscious, quite exhausted.

And so I am still here. But not for long. I did not get free of the Blood War only to spend eternity chained to a rock. Darkness was falling, the bright green sky darkening to black, despite there being no sun whose disappearance would cause such a thing. Sarevok had long since ceased questioning the conditions of the Abyss though. It would be a futile exercise to expect any sense here. He struggled against his restraints some more, as the sky turned even darker. Soon he couldn’t even see the jagged rocks in front of him without straining his eyes. “I…will…not…give up!” he panted, his muscles straining until they ached with the exertion. Sweat was running down his face, across his chest. Where had his armor gone? He knew he had been wearing it before, but now he was down to pants and shirt. It angered him, being without his protective metal husk made him feel weak, and helpless, and that made him furious. Whoever is doing this, they are doing it to break me. Well, they will not succeed. Still the chains would not give in, not even one inch.

“Show yourself,” Sarevok snarled, baring his teeth as he felt his heart pounding within his chest and glorious rage take hold of him. “Show yourself, you who would dare attempt to hold Sarevok against his will!”

“I dare.”

Sarevok’s head jerked up in confusion. That hadn’t been the voice of a snarling fiend, as he had expected. That had been the voice of a young child. And as he saw the creature coming towards him he found it suddenly difficult to draw breath. Not just any child this, oh no. It was a young boy, with tanned skin and rough black hair, and with amber eyes that were far, far too old for his smooth face. Now and then golden light flared within them, a brief and ominous flash. The child smiled, but there was no innocence in that smile, and far too much bitterness. “I dare,” the boy repeated again. “And you will go nowhere until I am done with you.”

Sarevok’s eyes narrowed with hostility, and he glared at the apparition before him. “I do not know who you are,” he said, “but you are not me. Ghost, fiend or apparition, you will release me at once or face the consequences!”

“Face the consequences?” the child scoffed. “You’re a fine one to talk about facing the consequences. It’s not as if you’ve done that yourself yet. But don’t worry, you have all the time in the world…”

“What do you mean?” Sarevok said, feeling confused. “Of course I have faced the consequences of my actions. I am dead, aren’t I? I am in the Abyss.”

“Ha! That’s nothing.” The child walked closer, staring up into the bound man’s face with an expression of utmost contempt on his face. “You really have no idea what I mean, do you? If you’d wanted to avoid punishment, then you would have stayed in the army. Yes, they would have made you fight and kill, and eventually you might have been destroyed once and for all, or maybe turned into some weaker demon. But that’s not punishment. Punishment, that’s about facing up to the consequences of your actions, as I said. And boy, do you have a lot to face up to…”

“I care not for your sermons!” Sarevok haughtily said, straining once more against the chains that bound him, ignoring his aching muscles. “Yes, I killed, in order to ascend. And I regret nothing!”

“Nothing?” The young Sarevok’s eyes were glowing fiercely golden by now, and there was a dark amusement in his voice. “I don’t think so. The madness kept it buried, but it is time you remembered exactly what happened in those final days…and then we will see whether you regret or not.”

And as Sarevok stared helplessly into the burning eyes of his younger self, he felt the world dissolving around him, as his mind went spinning backwards, into another time and place.

He was standing in a dark place, a place he knew at once. The tunnels beneath Baldur’s Gate, also named ‘The Undercity’. And he was…yes, he was wearing his beloved armor once again. It felt wonderful to once again be encased completely in steel, and he smiled with great pleasure as he lovingly inspected each perfectly crafted spike. Yes…I always knew I had a strong artistic talent. Even if some people never seemed to properly appreciate it.

There was something odd…Sarevok shifted his feet, checking that the Sword of Chaos rested in its scabbard as it should. Everything seemed to be in order. He could sense the power of his sire buoying him, making him almost float on a wave of dark magic. Soon…so much death. So many murders. And then the power will be mine, just as he promised. True, his annoying little sister had…had got into his way again somehow, hadn’t she? Sarevok frowned. He couldn’t quite recall what had happened, only that she had thwarted him…somehow. Well, she would pay for that. She was on her way, he knew that much. She will come to me, I know it. We are bound, connected, as brother and sister. She will not be able to stay away. And then…then we will fight.

“Oh come now, Sarevok. You already did that, remember? And it didn’t work the last time, so perhaps you could try actually applying the brain I know you have somewhere inside that atrocious helmet and think this through properly?”

Sarevok turned around, to stare at the man coming up behind him. “Winski?” And it certainly looked like the wizard who had been his friend and mentor ever since he was a young boy, from the haggard face to the cynical and amused glitter in the deeply set eyes. “Winski? Is it really you?” But why would I feel so surprised at seeing Winski here, he’s meant to help in the fight after all…isn’t he? His thoughts were getting confused again, and there was a terrible pounding headache behind his eyes every time he thought of Winski. Something…something he felt he should remember about the wizard, but also something he didn’t want to remember.

And then he did.

He was holding Winski by the collar, shoving him up against the wall, snarling into his face. But it wasn’t him doing it, it was as if he was a helpless watcher inside his own body, with no choice but to observe as the one in control acted. Bhaal. My sire…the blood of him, it burns! And it did, he could feel the divine blood burning in the body of his mortal self, inflaming the brain and the senses. ““You lie. Always you lie. She was so close…my sister was within my grasp, and the time of our clashing was upon us, the time when our souls would join as her blood flowed, the time for which even the gods hold their breaths in anticipation. And you…you took me away from her! You are a traitor, I see it now. You have been working against me from the start…planning…plotting in the shadows. My Father spoke true! It…it is all your fault! Traitor! “

No! The present Sarevok’s protest went unheeded, as his past self readied the great Sword of Chaos. NO! This is Winski…he wouldn’t betray me, would he? I thought he did…but…he was trying to aid me wasn’t he? I can see that now, now that it is too late. He tried to get me to safety, to protect me. And I…I…

“Yes…” Winski said in a low voice. His eyes were hollow, empty of all other feeling than despair. “Yes, I see it now…it is I who have been the fool. This…all of it…this is all my fault. Do as you will then. It matters not.”

Nooooo! Sarevok screamed inside his own head, furiously trying to get control over the body he was inhabiting. The worst of it was that he knew it was too late already, knew what was about to happen. How could he not, when he was the one who had done the deed before? And yet he tried. I will not give up! I never give up! I can do this, I know I can, if only I can be strong enough…

But his past self was possessed of the same indomitable will that he was, and the same strength, not to mention being ridden by murderous madness. The body smiled a terrible smile, and the sword drove home, impaling the wizard through the belly. Now the body chuckled, a dark and satisfied chuckle, and withdrew the sword again. Dark blood was dripping from it, reminding Sarevok of some of his old dreams. Blood…wherever I went, I brought bloodshed. Even to those very few people that I loved.

He wanted to howl with rage, to run the sword through his own treacherous body so that the pain would end. But he could do nothing, nothing but watch. As the body turned to walk away, Sarevok could just barely hear the words that his past self had missed.

Winski’s voice was faint, a shadow of its own self. “Sarevok…” he whispered. “Son…forgive me.”

No…Winski…no! It’s my fault! I am the one who should ask forgiveness, not you! I should kneel in the dust and beg at your feet for what I did! And I would, if it could bring you back.

For one moment, for one brief and glorious moment something seemed to happen. The body halted, under his command at last, and he tried to force it to obey his will, to turn and rush towards his mentor, attempting to aid him. Then the control slipped again, and Sarevok’s spirit was left to rage in vain, as it rode on within the body it had once inhabited, powerless to stop its progress.

I never even turned back. I killed him, he was in pain and dying, and I didn’t even so much as turn back to give him a final look. Winski…please forgive me, wherever you are.

“Do you think he would?”

Sarevok blinked, trying to clear his vision. It felt suddenly blurred, and his chest was painfully tight and hot. Once again he was back in his shackles, staring into the golden eyes of the boy who was a perfect likeness of himself as a child. “What…” he said.

“He loved you, you know,” the child said, his voice cold and merciless. “All he ever wanted was for you to be happy, and he would have done anything for you. And how did you repay that love? In blood.”

“No…” Sarevok breathed. “STOP SAYING THESE THINGS!”

“You didn’t even give him a swift death, with the courtesy of a mercy strike,” the child went on, giving Sarevok a venomous glare. “You left him in agony, to die slowly. Your foes showed him the mercy that you did not.”

“STOP!” He was screaming now, screaming his voice raw, and he didn’t care. All he wanted was for the images to stop, the terrible memories that kept assaulting him, making him relive the moment when he killed his friend again and again. “STOP! ENOUGH OF THIS!”

“Oh no, Sarevok,” the child said, and now he was smiling. It was a terrible smile. “This is not enough by any means. In fact, we are only just beginning…”