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Part 4: Insomnia


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#1 Guest_C'est Nedra_*

Posted 20 April 2004 - 11:05 PM

Man in the Iron Mask Part 4: Insomnia


“One is always told ‘don’t judge a book by its cover.’ I wonder if by that same token, one should not judge a book by its first chapter alone?”

-Diary of Sarevok of the Iron Mask




Sarevok marched up the steep stairs of the Feldepost Inn, a few supplies in his arms and his new cloak and tunic thrown over his shoulders. Shar-Teel was beside him, tiredly dragging her feet up the steps, her fatigued arms gripping onto her few parcels for dear life. They walked down the dim hallways together, complaints escaping from the neighboring rooms as their armor clanged loudly in the narrow walkway. Shar-Teel reached for her key and slid it into the lock, twisting it around and flinging open the door.

“Goodnight,” she grumbled, stumbling through the doorway. She slammed the door behind her and dragged herself towards the two couches, throwing down her new weapons and roughly ripping off her armor and dropping it onto the carpet. The tunic and cloak slid off of her shoulder, and she fumbled to grab the tunic before it hit the ground. She took off her old threadbare cloth and threw it across the floor in disgust, and pulled the new tunic up over her head.

Ah...this is nice... she thought to herself as the soft fabric slipped over her head and across her skin. She walked towards the couches, her tired feet sinking into the carpet, and collapsed face-first into the deep cushions of the closest one. Within moments she was fast asleep, finally freed from nagging clerks and flirtatious seamstresses.






Sarevok slowly removed his armor and set it on a long table, the metal softly clanging against the smooth wood. He had set his new weapons and few random items down already, and had decided he would have to take his armor off. One more night would be the death of him, or at least the death of his backbone! He pulled the helm off of his head, sighing in relief as a rush of cool air swept past his sweaty scalp and face. A thick palm caressed his tired eyes as he rubbed over his hot forehead and cracked lips. I need to shave...a shame I did not think of that this morning... he thought to himself, feeling the short stubbled growing around his goatee on his head. He had always had a shaved head, and the feeling of hair was quite uncomfortable to him.

He roughly removed his old tunic and slipped on the new one, sighing blissfully as the soft cloth spilled over his weary flesh. He considered for a moment wrapping the new cloak around him to better hide his face, as the hood was quite large, but decided he would allow himself to, for one night, enjoy the feeling of a single layer of thin cloth. The hot summer air was growing unbearable, especially in full armor, and he relished the lightness he felt...it was like he was floating on air. He lifted his arms up, enjoying the lightness, and slowly began to walk toward his bed. The plush pillows and satin sheets looked quite inviting, and he lifted himself easily into the tall frame and threw himself against the thick mattress. His thoughts quickly drifted away, and he slowly felt himself falling to sleep.


No...you are hurting me...please...stop...


A muffled voice interrupted the peaceful night air, and Sarevok slowly began to drift back into reality.


Make him stop...why won’t you make him stop..it hurts...


The voice grew clearer and Sarevok finally awoke completely. He jerked upright and swung his head around, attempting to discern where the voice was coming from.


Why are you doing this...what are you doing...no...


Shar-Teel. The realization hit Sarevok and he jumped out of his bed, something was terribly wrong. The woman was definitely not one to whine or complain...the voice didn’t even sound like her. Begging for help? Begging period?!


Why...what have I done...please...


Sarevok walked swiftly towards the doorway connecting their rooms, praying to himself that something was actually wrong, or Shar-Teel would probably gut him on the spot. He softly turned the doorknob and slipped open the door, creeping silently through the small opening. He could see Shar-Teel lying on a coach flanking a fireplace, her body outlined in the light of the dying embers. Her arms were folded across her chest tightly, and she was curled into a fetal position on the thick cushions.


“No...no more...please...” she murmured feverishly, her body shivering as she tossed her head from side to side.


Sarevok wondered to himself why she was sleeping on the couch, but his thoughts were interrupted as she began to whimper softly. A long hand moved to clutch her left breast, and Sarevok could see the sharp fingernails digging into her exposed flesh and fabric. He moved towards her, grabbing for a cashmere blanket thrown across the opposite couch. As he approached her she began to shudder more violently, and Sarevok could see the beads of sweat dotting her reddened cheeks and tanned neck. Her hair was matted to her face, and her lips were drawn back in a painful grimace. He crept towards her silently and reached to cover her with the blanket, hoping the warmth would cease her violent shivering.

Suddenly her hand shot out towards him and gripped his arm, catching him off guard, pulling him down and bringing her to a sitting position. Her blue eyes snapped open and stared blankly at him, while her other hand gripped his face, her long fingers behind his ear and her thumb pressed against his cheek. Sarevok reared back in shock, expecting her to recognize his face or attack him on the spot...or even better, both.


“Help me,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear and her nails digging into his skin, the words surprising Sarevok more than any she could have said.


Suddenly it all hit him. The hatred of men, the dislike towards being touched...what had happened to the woman? She looked so young as she stared at him, her blue eyes piercing into his own, whatever happened, needless to say it had not pleasant.

Her grip on his face and arm relaxed slowly and she leaned back down on the couch, her eyes closing and her arms lying back down at her sides. The look of fear relaxed and her breathing equalized, the shuddering ceasing as she drifted back to a peaceful sleep. Sarevok stood, stunned, before her and leaned forward to cover her with the blanket when a flash of white caught his eye. A few white lines were scattered on her chest in a strange design, originating on the left side of her chest, mostly covered by the tan cloth. The lines seemed purposeful, some thick and some thin, and seemed to be burned into her skin. It was a strange rune, maybe a tattoo she had received on purpose, but he doubted it...he had seen something like it before, but it was too long ago to remember where, years in the Abyss had that effect on one’s memory.

Sarevok tossed the blanket over her and scanned a final time over her face, deciding that the time for explanation would come eventually. Maybe never, but they had only a few days together, and he was not the one to solve her deep-rooted childhood problems, he had enough of his own to sort through. He turned around and walked back towards his room, closing the door softly behind him and returning to his soft bed. A frown crossed his face as he thought of Shar-Teel...so vulnerable, so child-like. So completely opposite to anything he had seen before from her, and he doubted he would ever experience it again.



 



Shar-Teel awoke the next morning abruptly, lurching up to a sitting position and gasping for breath. Her dreams had been the nightmares she suffered from regularly, they had begun to fade but recently were becoming more recurrent. Images of her father holding her down, the strange man leaning over her...she involuntarily clutched at her chest. She felt a soft cloth brush across her elbow and looked down, she did not remember covering herself with a blanket. Ah well, it does not matter. I wonder what is for breakfast, she thought to herself as she rose from the couch, shaking the unpleasant memories from her mind.

I am away from there now, I will make him pay for what he did in good enough time, she reminded herself daily, and her lips parted in a cruel grin as she reached for her armor. She strapped it on slowly and finally pulled the helm over her disheveled hair, then strapped her new crossbow to her waist and her bag of bolts beside it. Vorekas had insisted that she carry one after she shot the rat, of course he had automatically assumed that she was an incompetent priss until she had proven otherwise... men.

She glanced over the room one last time, luxury would be a stranger for the next few days as they traveled to Baldur’s Gate. She had to admit to herself that she was not loathing it as much as she had at first, Vorekas’ company was not entirely unbearable, nor was the trip going to be that difficult. Plus, there was always the added bonus of the mission from that Flaming Fist whore, she would relish scalping every single one of those bandits. Her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her how hungry she was, and she quickly left her room and walked down the hallway and stairs to the tavern. The smell of cooking flesh and the sound of softly conversing patrons flooded around her, and she glanced around the room for an empty table. The glint of light reflecting off of metal blinded her, and she sighed in recognition. Tin man...of course.


She smiled at him wanly as she pulled out the chair beside him and threw herself down on it, pulling a plate of eggs and bread towards her.

“Thanks Vorekas, how sweet of you to get my breakfast for me,” she added mockingly, grinning wickedly as she took a big bite out of the small loaf of bread.

The warrior made no reply, and instead dabbed his plate full of yolk with a chunk of bread. Shar-Teel glanced at him curiously then waved her hand dismissively.

“I can never figure you out, tin-man, not that I ever plan to...a few more days, then I am freed from your oppressive ‘strong silence.’” She glared at him until she saw his head turns towards her and felt his burning stare, she was becoming quite good at realizing when he was sizing her up, and it almost made her feel uncomfortable.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, a strange note in his voice.

“Of course, I was exhausted...haven’t slept that soundly in years,” Shar-Teel replied between bites, “and you? Not that I really care, of course...”

“Decently enough,” Sarevok responded shortly. “I thought I heard a commotion coming from your room, it woke me in the middle of the night.”

Shar-Teel glanced at him strangely, then suddenly nodded her head in agreement. “I must have been sleepwalking or something of the sort, I woke up with a blanket over me...and I knew I did not have it there when I fell asleep. Of course, that explains it...”

“I see,” Vorekas replied tersely.

They sat in silence, each finishing their meal, until the barmaid finally retrieved their clean plates and they sat at the bare table. Shar-Teel stole sly glances at the warrior, for once wishing she could see his face...were they not leaving soon? All of this sitting around was most frustrating to her, she felt her skin crawling with anticipation for the chance at some good maiming and slaughter. And why was he acting so oddly...it was strange even for him.

The warrior interrupted her thoughts as he cleared his throat, and Shar-Teel turned her head sharply to look up at him.

“We leave now.” He gestured towards a front window and she could see a cart drawn by two oxen stopped directly before the inn, the wooden frame loaded with cargo and covered with a tan canvas.

“Finally!” Shar-Teel cried, leaping to her feet, “let’s get this over and done with, then cash in some scalps and part ways!”

Sarevok looked at her from under his helm, his view of her vastly changed from the experience of the night before.

“Yes, I presume you have all of your things gathered?”

“Of course,” Shar-Teel scoffed, “what do you thing I am, some imbecile unable to care for myself?”

Sarevok sighed lightly as he stood up and stretched his stiff legs, then began to walk with his companion through the tavern to the entrance. He glanced at her, then back towards the open doorway. Her steps were so confident, her demeanor aggressive, and yet it was all a charade, a false image projected to guard what lurked within...he knew it all too well. They exited the tavern and walked into the bright sunshine of the morning, and Sarevok’s jaw dropped at the sight before him.

“What in the name of the Abyss is this?” Shar-Teel bellowed, gesturing wildly towards the cart. Well... carts rather, there were three of them. Each fully laden with iron, and drawn by a pair of sturdy oxen, and yet there was only one of her, and one of the warrior.

“I see three carts, Vorekas, *three*...and I seem to count only *two* of us...” she growled, her narrowed eyes turning viscously towards Sarevok. He glanced at the carts, then back at the fighter beside him. Why me...

“The oxen will follow one another, we will ride together on the first cart, it will be safer to be in a pair,” Sarevok replied strongly, walking up to the first cart. He motioned for Gelvenstar’s servants to get off the seats and lifted himself onto the left side of the front, then grabbed the sturdy reins and held them loosely in his hands. He noted with some satisfaction that the carts were all bound together with long tethers, the oxen would not be able to stray far from their leader’s path.

“Oh hell, why did I not remain tied to that tree...” Shar-Teel muttered, following the warrior and climbing into the seat beside him. Her armor clanged loudly as it bumped against his, and she shot him a venomous look and drew a line between the seats with her long finger.

“Do not cross this line,” she hissed, motioning towards the partition between them.

Sarevok laughed shortly and pulled the reins, spurring the oxen on to a steady walk. “I would think by now you would no longer fear any unwelcome ‘advances’ from this man...”

“Fear?! Ha!” Shar-Teel barked, “I fear nothing. I just would not like to have to go back on my word and bury you along the roadside to Baldur’s Gate.”

“You presume you could so easily defeat me?”

Shar-Teel glanced up at him, a cruel grin spreading across her face. “We all have to sleep sometime.”




 



A few hours had passed, and they were rolling at a decent pace through the countryside leading to the Friendly Arm Inn. They would travel there until they reached the Inn, Sarevok did not intend to rest in bandit-infested territory, and even Shar-Teel felt nervous at the idea of leaving themselves so vulnerable on the hostile trail.


“Do you see that?” Shar-Teel asked suddenly, pointing towards a small copse of trees.

“What?” Sarevok replied, squinting to catch a better view. A light arrow whizzed past his head and he felt the woman jerk back in surprise.

“Bandits!” Shar-Teel cried, ripping her crossbow from her waist and standing to gain a better angle at which to shoot the ruffians. Male ruffians, she reminded herself as she marked an approaching one at the chest, and launched a bolt clear through his useless armor and into his chest cavity. He cried out loudly and fell to the ground, dead within a matter of seconds.

Sarevok knew he could not stop the front cart so suddenly, and instead drew his crossbow and began to launch bolts at the approaching trio of bandits left, one was already dead and another injured from Shar-Teel’s volley of bolts. Within a few moments the other were brought to the ground, some writhing in pain while other grasped in vain at their wounds, attempting to pull the bolts from their flesh.

“Now for the fun part,” Shar-Teel hissed, anticipation ringing clearly in her husky voice. She jumped off the cart adroitly and strode up to the five men on the ground, drawing a small dagger and slicing their scalps away from their heads, ignoring the horrible screams of the ones still living. Sarevok felt his stomach turn in disgust as he watched the blood pour from the jagged remains of their hair and flesh, pooling out on the grassy earth and streaming down their pale skin and leather armor. Shar-Teel glanced back at the wagon already rolling down the road ahead of her, and jogged lightly to catch back up with the caravan. She swung herself back into her seat and held out the five scalps triumphantly.

“250 gold right there, that is!” she cried, shoving the bloody masses into a leather sack.

Sarevok sighed and shook his head lightly. “I should have expected you to so eagerly engage in Officer Vai’s mission, no wonder you made no protest to working for the Fists.”

Shar-Teel laughed shortly and glanced back at the road. “I am that transparent, am I? I will have to work on that.”

“Only in matters regarding bloodshed. You remind me of a young man, one I used to hold in close company...”

“And now?”

Sarevok turned towards her, glancing at the fighter through his finely slotted helm. “His bloodlust was the death of him, he fell at the hands of one he had attempted in vain to murder, many times, with many assassins.”

Shar-Teel snorted. “Sounds like a weakling to me, but what else could you expect from a man ...hiring assassins, why didn’t he do the job himself?”

“He tried, and he failed. I imagine the demons of the Abyss remind him of this often.”

“How close was he to you, that you know so much of him?” Shar-Teel asked, glancing up at Sarevok.

Sarevok smiled bitterly beneath his helm. “Close. That is all you need to know.”



Shar-Teel sat silently for a moment, then turned to look up at him. “You are quite the mysterious one, Vorekas, I admit I have even found myself wondering what lies beneath that tin can of yours...some wretched creature, some deformed monster, some extraplanar being...” She peered at him curiously, her steely eyes scanning over him.

He hesitated, turning his helm towards her. “A man. Nothing more, nothing less, but enough for you to despise...I wonder what lies beneath the rough exterior you carry? I find myself pondering what could possibly have brought a woman to hold such a bitter hatred for the opposite sex, and to lust for their blood so intensely,” Sarevok replied, turning back to view the road before them.

Shar-Teel’s jaw tightened, and she glanced back at the road. “I guess we each have our secrets.”


“Yet, I fear some may be darker than others,” Sarevok added softly, sensing the tension growing between him and the fighter. She sat in silence, then began to fidget uncomfortably in her seat.

“I do not trust these flimsy tethers binding the carts, I will ride in the rear until we reach the Friendly Arm...that way I can more easily kill any bandits we come across without risking striking you as well,” Shar-Teel said suddenly, her voice hollow and quiet. She quickly leapt to her feet and scrambled to the rear of the cart, leaping from one to the other until she sat in the front seat of the rear cart. Vorekas’ sat stoically in the lead seat, and Shar-Teel cast her eyes away from him. He had dug too deeply, they only had a few more days together...she would not tolerate being probed by some man unwilling to even reveal his face. She glanced down at the blood covering her armor, she would not clean it until they were nearer to the town...it was the only comfort she had.

One of the oxen snorted and stomped, and Shar-Teel could see a chunk of grass eject from its large nostril. She hated animals, especially oxen, they were so dirty and noisy...she only enjoyed animals she could kill. Hunting was more a sport for her than a means to gather food, but in times of dire need she had found herself eating any animal she could kill, even the smallest of squirrels. Scalping the bandits was an easy task, she had skinned many an animal, human flesh cut easiest of them all, no fur to break through. She smiled viscously, tossing the pouch of scalps lightly in her gloved hands. She hoped they ran across more bandits soon...she was growing restless already.


Sarevok sat at the front of the caravan, silently pondering the conversation that had elapsed between him and his companions. He knew he had delved too deep, that he had triggered a response in her to build a wall barring out all intruders...but he had to admit that he was curious. He was not accustomed to being in such close quarters with one person alone, and he also had admit that he was growing a certain fondness for the woman, she was entertaining if nothing else. She reminded him so strongly of himself, as a youth, the similarities were quite striking. Yet he could only imagine from her actions the night before that she had suffered the same as he had, an abusive childhood...he imagined from her words that she had been raped, possibly more than once. Her face flashed in his mind, her begging for him to help her, she stared straight into his face...suddenly something sparked in his memory. Her face, in that instant, it seemed so familiar...

He tugged at the reins, spurring the oxen on to a faster pace. He stared ahead blankly, racking his brain to regain that glimmer of recognition he had felt, if only for an instant...but it was gone. He bit his lip in frustration and sighed loudly, then set his eyes back on the road before him.




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