Part 9: Release

Man in the Iron Mask Part 9: Release


“I have formed my love into a prison, and only I hold the key to my release...”

-Sarevok of the Iron Throne





Sarevok woke to find himself in a golden plane, the ethereal whiteness of the skies melding with the amber beams of light streaming from an unseen orb. A figure materialized out of the stark brightness, a dark pool of flesh and hair slowly forming into a familiar body, a heavenly being that stepped across the clouds beneath her feet. Almond eyes rimmed mahogany depths that beckoned to him, he felt his pulse quicken as the dark-skinned woman clothed in purest white moved nearer to him, her kimono swaying with the gentle, warm breeze of the plane.

“Sarevok...” she whispered, her every step growing more and more painful for him, he could feel her near him once again. She came to stand before him, he sensed her presence as a dull ache within his bones, her face more beautiful even upon death.

“Why do you linger among the dead, when you are living...” she said, although her curved lips did not move. Her voice was an echo in his mind, the gentle tone drifting through his consciousness like a soft summer wind.

He moved to speak, but he found himself unable to. He tried to reach for her but could not, it was as if he was paralyzed to the spot, his senses were filled with her warm eyes, her fragrant perfume, her silky voice, her soft skin as a hand reached up to cup his chin. A single tear slid down his cheek, and she gently wiped it from his hot skin with a slim finger.

“Why must you cry as if I am gone forever, you will linger forever in my heart and I will in yours, as do the memories of all lovers...” she said, gripping his hand in hers and placing over the left side of her chest. He could feel nothing, no movement or beating, not even a single breath taken. She smiled and moved his hand over his own chest, and he could feel a heavy heartbeat and rapid breathing.

“You are alive, my love, your sister in her compassion has brought you back to the world...never doubt the path your life will take, accept it and persevere. You hunger so, your yearning is an open wound that festers with each passing day...yet only you can cure your ailment. My love is there, as it always will be, and yet you desire more...” she continued, her cool flesh brushing against his as she brought her arms back to her side.

Sarevok opened his mouth to protest, but could not, and she lifted a finger to rest on his thick lips. “Why must you burden yourself with guilt, do you think I expect you to wander the planes in solitude, mourning one who has found happiness in the arms of eternity? Another needs you, as you need her, she is the strength I could never be, and you are the support for her that I never needed. Two pieces of a puzzle may fit but they do not complete the picture...you must leave me behind, and join with the one you know in your heart and mind is yours,” she said, a bright smile crossing her slim face. She reached up her arms and cupped Sarevok’s face in her small hands, her arms stretched to their fullest length to reach him. More tears spilled down his face, over her hands and onto the clouds beneath him.

“No more tears love, you must listen to your heart. Be glad you have been freed from your father’s clutches and you are now able to find happiness as you never could before...you must abandon Sarevok Anchev fully...”she said, her cool hands delicately caressing his face,

“But now you must return, know that I am joyful in this place...” She looked up at him, and for once he could see the peace in her eyes, the serenity in her face, she was home.

“Remember that to save others you must first save yourself...” she said, her face and voice slowly fading back into the ethereal light it came from. He felt a rush of calm flood through his body, no more pain, no more doubt...only certainty in his path and what must be done.

He would tell Shar-Teel that he did not wish to depart from her company, that he desired her to travel with him to Cloakwood...Tamoko had freed him, and he had finally allowed himself to be freed. He was a man yes, and Shar was a woman...Shar...he had never called her that, yet the name seemed strangely familiar...

Slowly the light departed and he was left with blackness, and a loud sound that cut through his mind.





“Master Vorekas! A letter for you, it says it is urgent!” a shrill voice cried, and Sarevok lurched into a sitting position and clutched his throbbing head. He had only his robe on, and he quickly wrapped the hood around his face and the cloak around his body.

“Coming, cease the barbaric pounding if you please,” he grumbled, stumbling in the dimly lit room as he ambled to the door. He opened it a crack and stuck a hand through, feeling an envelope pushed into his palm.

“It just came from a strange looking guy, but I’m sure a lot of messengers around here are pretty off, they usually are people of ill-repute who have to turn to the mail system to find any decent work, even though it really doesn’t pay well, heck look at me I can barely scrape together enough to feed my family...” the man rambled, only stopping as Sarevok pressed a few gold coins into his hand.

“For your troubles, now leave!” Sarevok bellowed, closing the door tightly and locking it again. He looked over the envelope, it seemed harmless enough. Creamy white paper, clear, precise handwriting of his name, and yet it had no seal. He gently pried it open, and a small sheet of paper slipped out into his hands. The writing seemed dark and pressed hard into the paper, as if the writer were forcing the letters from his hand.


Dear Vorekas,

I have sent this to you since I presently am unable to return to the inn, I have found other, more lucrative business that requires my immediate attention.

Sarevok felt a dark pit growing in his stomach, he could only hope the note was from the gnome.

I am glad to be finally freed of your tiresome company, although I do regret that I will not be retrieving the payment which was my only motivation for tolerating your presence.

It felt as if he had been hit by a heavy weight, crushing his chest and knocking the breath out of him. She...had he been so wrong? The dream was that, just a dream, it meant nothing. He scanned over the line again and noticed the that writing seemed much darker, almost unsteady as if the mind of the writer was fighting against the hand.


Divide the gold two ways instead of three as we had planned, between you and the gnome Iksniw, I care not. Goodbye Vorekas, may we never meet again.

Shar-Teel


Sarevok stared at the paper stunned, how could he have been so mistaken...the night in the tavern...she...how could he have been so foolish. Was he so starved for a woman that he would think something of nothing, he must have suffered from a bout of temporary insanity. He sank into a chair, clutching his burning forehead with a numb hand. The paper slipped out of his grasp and onto the floor, gently coming to rest on the wooden slats beneath his feet.

Iksniw? What sort of strange name was that for Jan...was she mocking even the gnome? She knew the gold was only to be split between him and her, Jan wanted none of it...

The thought suddenly dawned on him. She knew Jan did not want any of the money, they had not “planned” to give him anything but a safe passage into the city. She had been acting so strange upon their arrival...something was very wrong...

Iksniw...what could that mean...if it were my mind it would be a alternate name for Winski...

Winski! The thought dawned on him, of course, his old teacher had been involved with many strange spells and such. Especially curses, he had grown quite adept at complex and thickly woven curses embedded into a single rune etched into the skin. Pictures flooded back into his memory, page after page of runes and spells. An image flashed in his mind, not of a page but of a strange design burned into skin...Shar-Teel’s skin.

Her chest...she is cursed!



 




Shar-Teel sat on a thickly padded lounge, her empty eyes staring blankly out the far window.

“Birds...how I wish I were a bird...do you sometimes wish you could just fly away?” she murmured dreamily, gently stroking a peice of sun-streaked hair from her tan face.

The man moved nearer to her, lifting a long hand and gently stroking it across her freshly-washed cheek.

“Of course not darling, then I would be forced to be apart from you,” he replied slickly, his thin lips parting in a cunning grin.

“Oh yes, I hadn’t thought of that. How could you part from me...but I just feel so, so different...” she said, her blue eyes opened wide as she turned to look at him.

“The spell is only to keep you...calm...until after tomorrow, then we will create something more...permanent,” he answered, dragging his hand along her jawline then down her silky throat. “Then we shall be more...intimate.”

Shar-Teel smiled wanly and nodded her head. “Yes, tomorrow, we shall be..be w–wed.” Her voice caught on the last word, and a look of rage flashed across her face, if only for a second.

“Here darling, drink more of this,” he prodded, forcing a glass of wine into her limp hand. She gripped it and held it before her, looking down at the surface. Her reflection glinted off the darkness of wine and she glanced over it, she did not recognize herself. Who was ‘herself’? Who am I?

Her long hair was smoothed and poured over her shoulders, the dark brown color woven with streaks of shimmering gold. Blue eyes peered out from under neatly arched brows and a long, strong nose ended in a pair of red-tinted bowed lips. Her cheeks were smooth and lightly tanned, gently flushed with a hint of pink. She looked down at her pale blue dress, trimmed with lace, and rubbed a hand over her slim waist. Another hand grabbed hers, clutching it in its bony fingers.

“You are beautiful, as you have always been, we just washed you and clothed you...I can see why you would not recognize yourself,” he said, his green eyes peering at her lecherously.

She left her hand limp in his, then lifted the glass and emptied the contents into her throat. She felt anger boul within her, a foreign entity clawing and scratching its way back into her mind.


Die, scum!




 





Sarevok strapped on his armor and folded the letter into his pack, then threw it over his shoulder and walked out of his room. He would need to act with speed, something was looming over him...some sense of imminent doom or other dramatic nonsense. He would have to return to his teacher, and idea he loathed more than the fires of the abyss.

Sure, Winski and him had gotten along well during his training, but after the failure at Baldur’s Gate...this might not be the happiest of reunions. All he had to do was look at one of the mage’s books, to find the curse and how to counteract it...but why? The thought dawned on him, why was he saving her? He could take all of the money and leave, return to Cloakwood and begin his plans there, free of any inconveniences. A dream is just that...a dream. He walked down the stairs deep in thought, and ran headlong into a short little man.

“Master Vorekas, watch where you are stepping! Never know where one of Uncle Pyro’s Super-TurnipMines could be lurking, maybe even underneath one of these floorboards!” He paused and held a pudgy finger over his lips, motioning towards a far plank of wood.

“Shh, it is sound-activated,” he whispered, gasping as Sarevok groaned and stepped aside him.

“I have no time for this gnome, I have other business to attend to,” he growled, stomping loudly through the nearly empty tavern.

“Oh yes!” Jan agreed, racing to walk beside him, “you and Shar-Teel get to split the money now! Hey, where is she by the way? She never came in last night...were you guys, you know, doing a little of something...” he winked and nodded at Sarevok, and the warrior found himself biting his lower lip fiercely.

“She has other business requiring her attention,” Sarevok answered, walking towards the entrance of the tavern, “business not concerning you nor I.”

Jan paused, holding his chin in confusion. “But I thought she ‘liked’ you? Seems a bit odd behavior for that...I mean come on, in Shar-Teel’s language that’s about pledging your eternal, undying devotion...speaking of undying devotion, I once had this cousin who got married...”

Sarevok stopped listening, his mind spinning over the gnome’s words. He remembered her face, her absolute seriousness as she glanced up at him and revealed some of her inner machinations to him...he remembered the fire coursing through his veins as he laid on the floor, so far from her.

He shook his head sharply and glanced down at the gnome. “How did you know that, anyways?”

Jan grinned and twiddled his thumbs innocently. “I told you I was a sneaky one...”

Sarevok grinned, then patted the gnome on the back appreciatively.

“You are forgiven, your incessant rambling just saved me from myself...but now I must go. Tell the bartender to send all deliveries for me to my room, I will return before nightfall.”

Jan nodded happily and bounded towards the bartender, his brightly colored clothing flashing in the dim light.

Now to find those books...and hopefully not Winski...



He strode through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, nervously checking to make sure his helm covered his face fully. The heat was quite unbearable as he walked quickly down the crowded stone paths, but he continued on. Soon he would reach his old home, well what he had considered home anyways.

He glanced up and saw the metal spires looming in the distance, growing larger and larger and he came nearer. Soon the massive stone building stood before him, the imposing fortress impenetrable by any frontal means. The Iron Throne, his old stomping grounds and center of his dark services to his dead father, how much evil had gone on in that building. Yet fond memories were contained within the cold walls, a few moments that had broken through the black cloud descended over his mind and heart. He could recall Tamoko, bounding out of the two open front doors to greet him after he had traveled to Candlekeep, her joy barely contained as she leapt into his open arms. He had smiled...a true, blissful smile.


His past was facing him in all its terribly glory, the shattered dreams...his defeat, his loss of everything that ever meant anything to him. All that he held, even his own life, broken at Seline’s hand. His mind had gone through such a gauntlet of thoughts and emotions, the demons had twisted his being and he had finally begun to unravel the damage. He pushed through the doors, surprisingly unlocked, and entered the cold, empty building. The stone floor was dusty but still smooth, the building had not been touched since the last year’s events. Obviously the townsfolk were frightened to even enter the structure, he could not blame them, many strange and grotesque rituals had been performed in the upper levels...blood had covered the walls, ceiling, floor...his hands.

He climbed up the stairs to the upper levels, marveling at how empty the place seemed, and yet nothing had been disturbed. A few skeletons lay on the side, obviously guards that had been killed, most likely at Seline’s hand. The stench of decay had already left, obviously the bodies had not been moved at all. It was a sad, if not fitting, fate for the members of the Throne. Dead and forgotten, illusions of grandeur crumbling around their dying bodies...left to rot in their dark prison.

Finally he reached the upper levels, where the member’s living quarters could be found. Only a precious few were allowed to have rooms in the upper areas, his father, himself and Tamoko, Angelo while he was keeping ‘other’ women in his company, and Cythandria. He glanced down at the floor as he passed her room, a skeleton clad in a bright green robe splayed out across the dark marble. Her duplicitous tongue had obviously not saved her from Seline’s axe.

He passed by Angelo’s room and saw a painting hanging on the wall. He had never noticed it before, and he stopped to glance at it for a moment. It was a picture of a young girl, clad in a deep salmon dress, turning to look towards the viewer. Her light brown hair swung with the movement, and he could see her bright steely eyes almost laughing themselves, along with her thin lips open in a wide smile. Of course, it was Angelo’s daughter...

What was her name? He could not remember, but he recalled how harshly her father had treated her...it came as no surprise when he caught word of her running away from her home. It was more like a prison, he could only imagine what she had endured with the walls. Angelo was much like his step-father, harsh with words and ever harsher with hands.

Shar! Of course, akin to the dark goddess...yet she bore no resemblance to the deity whatsoever.

Shar?! His mind raced...it all made sense suddenly. He remembered that she was betrothed...but she ran away...she would most likely be a man-hater by now...

Just like Shar-Teel!


He remembered hearing Angelo and Semaj discuss Shar, Semaj was quite intent upon marrying her. Sarevok could understand her loathing the betrothal, the man was a disgusting individual both physically and personality-wise...he was a walking oil slick. Maybe he had something to do with her curse, he must have, only he would have a close relationship with Winksi. If he could find Semaj he would find Shar, he was certain of it, yet he had no idea where to even begin to search. First, he would find the curse...and how to release her from it.

A vision of her body, so young looking, shivering on the couch miserably as she whimpered for them to stop.

What had they done to her?! Sarevok thought angrily, his face growing hot with fury, what sort of monsters would do that to a girl?

He sighed and walked out of the room, slowly moving towards Winski’s in the rear. I was a monster, I would have gladly inflicted Seline with any manner of curse I could, without even a tinge of remorse. The Iron Throne bred monsters, it was a pool of corruption...if only I could have seen it before.


He heard a light rustle behind him, and whipped around to see a dark shadow gathering in the dim light.


“Master Sarevok, you return so soon.”