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Part 1


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#1 Guest_Flarn_*

Posted 18 May 2003 - 10:25 PM

The room was dark, lit only by the faint, remaining glow of the disabled mephit portals. The small circles of incongruously cheerful colours did little to dispel the gloom as Imoen efficiently checked the remainder of the room for traps and other items Alyndria's ragtag party might be able to use.

The group now numbered five, with the addition of Yoshimo, the exotic bounty hunter of Kara Tur. New faces from new places - the heart of adventure, why it was almost like old times... Almost. The differences broke Alyndria's heart - Dynaheir, the witch of Rasheman, and her sometime mentor in the ways of magic, was dead, despite Minsc's valiant efforts to protect her, and Jaheira, despite a thorough search of the previous level, was nowhere to be found.

Alyndria could see Khalid, standing by a mephit portal on the far side of the room, the blue light ghostly on his sun-darkened skin. Worry for his lifemate was taking its toll upon the gentle man, which was not surprising. Usually careful of his equipment, he leaned upon Sarevok's Sword of Chaos, newly returned to him, as if the enchanted weapon were no more than a gentleman's cane.

"Did you find anything, Imoen?" Alyndria asked.

"The usual, some coins, some bolts for that crossbow I picked up a while back - and another of these strange wand things." The mage-turned-thief glanced around the room warily like a hunted thing - it was usual for her in this dark place, but right here, in this room, it seemed to Alyndria's eyes, to possess a particular edge.

"Imoen, are you alright? You seem distracted."

"I just want to get outta this place, 'Lyn. Please, can we move on?"

"Alright. I suppose there's nothing more we can do here. Everyone, let's get going."

They moved towards the door at the far end of the room, with Khalid trailing morosely up the rear.

Alyndria's heart ached for the man. She wished she had something useful to say to him, but all she could do was watch him sadly as she dealt with her own pain and worry for her friends, both those that were here, and those who were lost.

If it had been up to Alyndria's powers of observation alone, the body on the table might have been passed unnoticed. There were enough already in this dank place of nightmares, bodies scattered across the floors like so much garbage. She had seen death like this before - and worse - mountains of it, walls of it, great stinking piles of it, yet still she could not become immune. *Death is... pretty,* Imoen had whispered, then been horrified by what she had said. Alyndria had been horrified too, but more because in a strange way she had felt a spark of understanding at the words. It must have been the Bhaal-blood. And so, when she passed the dead by, she tried not to look, to remain blind, to survive.

The others must have been doing the same, for it was not until they had moved into the room beyond that they realized something was wrong.

Alyndria looked around. "Where's Khalid?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The scream sliced through the air, sharp as a finely honed sword - and it spoke in the same voice: terror, futility, finality, death, death and the lament of those left behind to mourn what the sword had so quickly, so thoughtlessly taken.

In the blending of minutes, hours, days, the untold passage of time since her imprisonment in this dark place, Alyndria had experienced pain she had never before been capable of imagining - it was nothing to the pain in this cry, it shattered her, froze her with fear, galvanized her to action as she launched herself back towards the portal room, Imoen, Minsc, and Yoshimo fast on her heels.

She saw Khalid, heard the clatter of steel on stone as his sword tumbled from nerveless fingers. She saw what she had missed before, the tumble of gold-streaked waves, slash of cheekbone... expressive lip - master of wit, disdainful sneer, and engaging smile alike... torn leather tunic, grey cast on skin - the grave beneath the kiss of sunlight... Jaheira. Jaheira was the corpse Alyndria had walked blindly past, Jaheira lay there on the table, cold and dead as the stone which seemed to close in all around them.

Alyndria bit her lip so hard it almost bled, staring, finding herself frozen like a golem, unable to function, to comprehend the meaning of what lay before her swimming eyes. /Forgive me, my friend, I didn't see you... Oh gods... Oh *Khalid*.../

The fighter still had not moved, he stood like a guardian statue over a bier, not noticing as she took a step closer. Then he did move, stretching out a shaking hand, then snatching it back. A puzzling behaviour until Alyndria moved closer and saw what Khalid could see - cuts in the sun-gold skin, a great gaping maw, bone, muscle, organs exposed for some sadistic curiosity.

"Not like this," Khalid's voice was harsh and tremulous, and yet his stutter was absent, driven away, paralysed by horror. "Not here, alone in the dark, away from the light and the sky." He was not weeping, but his face gleamed, liquid with tears. "Beloved, you of all people should not lie like this... but they didn't care, they took you, they did this to you... my beautiful Jaheira, my aspen, my shelter..."

At those last words Alyndria herself could take no more, and choked back a sob. Her own grief, combined with the agony of witnessing Khalid's far deeper sorrow, was almost more than she could bear.

"Khalid?" She forced herself to speak. "I know this is not the best time, but... we can't give up yet, there may still be a chance. I have not been given any spells of raising yet, but if we can get her out of here and to a Temple - "

"It is already too late."

"How can you say that?"

"She was my wife for longer than you have been alive," Khalid whispered. "Do you think somehow I would not know if she was gone?"

"How long have you been a priest, Khalid?" Alyndria asked, feeling hysterically close to laughter. "I say there is still a chance, and I will *not* leave her here!"

"You shouldn't make promises you don't know you will be able to keep."

"Khalid, I have seen enough people die, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Khalid flinched visibly at her outburst, and Alyndria felt sick inside. /Excellent work, is this how you comfort a friend who has lost the woman he loved?/ But Jaheira was *not* lost yet, Alyndria refused to believe it.

"You are right, of course," Khalid finally demurred. "At the very least we can bury her in good, clean earth - she would have wanted that."

"We are *not* burying anyone, Khalid," Alyndria asserted, spotting a pile of rags nearby. "Here, let me bind her, she will be easier to revive if we make sure everything stays where it belongs."

"I'll do it," Khalid said.

"But Khalid, you know that sort of thing doesn't bother m - "

"Damn it, Alyndria she is MY WIFE AND I WILL DO THIS!"

Wide-eyed she handed Khalid the rags and watched, trembling as he worked. She had never, in all her travels, heard him raise his voice in anger before. But like a summer storm's quick passing, he had grown quiet again, so quiet, as he prepared Jaheira's body for transportation. Fortunately as vivisections went, Jaheira's did not appear to have been especially thorough, but there were parts of her which had been removed, laid aside in containers, and Khalid put each one back with his bare hands.

In the background, Imoen began to sob quietly.

When everything had been returned to the nearest approximation of its proper place, Khalid took the rags, knotting them together and winding them slowly and gently around Jaheira's mutilated body, as if she were still alive to feel the tenderness of his touch. He used the last of the cloths to secure her torn tunic modestly around her, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Alyndria wondered that he could do this - though there were no immediate signs or scents of decay, her lips could not have been other than cold, their wildrose blush now faded to the shade of a woodland berry - blue and blighted by an early frost.

He lifted her into his arms as Alyndria had seen him do on more than one occasion. In those happier days his strength had been sufficient and more to lift her high, as if she had been no more than a child. Now, it seemed as though Jaheira's lithe and graceful form had turned to lead, her death a burden too heavy to be borne. "Let's get out of this place."

But Khalid had barely taken a few steps before he stopped again, dropping to his knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He hid his face against Jaheira's hair, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Yoshimo," Alyndria said, "perhaps you and Minsc should watch the door."

The Bounty Hunter nodded, and the two retreated to a respectful distance.

"'Lyn?" Imoen touched her arm, whispering, "maybe we should watch the other door, give him some time to be alone."

"If you had given me some time alone after Gorion died, Imoen, I most likely wouldn't be here. We're his friends, we can't abandon him now."

"Khalid?" The silently weeping man did not seem to notice the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

Alyndria knelt in front of him, managing to enfold him in a gentle embrace, with Jaheira's still form cradled between them. She tried to think of something worthy to say, but instead she remembered something Jaheira had once told her - how words were platitudes, and that it was by actions, not words, that a true friend was known. Jaheira had exemplified those principles - sometimes harsh in her criticisms, a little too pointed in her observations, yet a more staunch defender in times of trouble could not be found. She freely admitted she was not an easy person to love, but what she never said, and perhaps never knew, was the secret that those around her came to learn: that caring for her grew easier with each day spent in her company.

Tears filled Alyndria's eyes as she recalled her friend, felt the touch of her cold flesh, the faded beauty of her mortal shell bereft of the magnificent spirit it had housed. So she did not say anything, but shared truly in Khalid's grief beyond mere words, by allowing herself to weep for his loss; and for her own.

She nearly jumped when she felt the touch of a hand on her cheek. Khalid was brushing away *her* tears - wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

"You do know what she would say to us?" Khalid's voice was hoarse, and clogged with tears, but his familiar stutter had returned at last. Alyndria welcomed the sound of it, which she had come to find endearing - it was a sure signal he was a bit calmer of mind.

"That we're being ridiculous, weeping like children when we should be saving our miserable lives."

Alyndria had unconsciously adopted a parody of the Druid's Tethyrian accent, and Khalid half-laughed, half-sobbed again when he heard it, giving her a tear-filled smile. "If we die here in the dark because of her, she will never let us forget it."

"Then let's go, let's find the light again, and bring her back."

Khalid nodded, and they got awkwardly to their feet.

Minsc saw them approach and stepped forward. "Please friend, let Minsc and Boo see to your lady." He held out his arms. "I am very strong, and your lady is very light. Let me carry her for a while, I promise I will be as gentle as if I held my own sweet witch..." Tears glimmered in the Berserker's eyes and he wiped them angrily away. "Please," he repeated, "I could not save my Dynaheir, let me help you save her."

Khalid pressed his lips together firmly and nodded once, handing Jaheira into the Berserker's arms.

Imoen, her face tear-streaked, warily approached. "Khalid... I want to say how sorry I am about Jaheira... I... know this is hard..."

"Thank you, Imoen, but I don't think now is the best time to discuss this."

"I think it is," the young woman replied softly, voice shaking. "I can tell you she didn't suffer. I know... I saw... she was dead before he started on her."

"You saw...?" Khalid stared at Imoen, unable to formulate further words.

Imoen hugged herself tightly and looked away, not meeting the fighter's eyes, and Alyndria felt her heart clench like a fist in her chest. Imoen had always been full of tall tales, but she had never been all that good at lying to a friend... she was holding something back, yet another of the many ghosts in her newly haunted eyes. She had seen something, her eyes screamed of it, yet another of the unspoken memories that lay like broken glass inside her.

/Soon, dear one, soon,/ Alyndria thought, /and then I shall take care of you properly./ She grabbed Imoen's hand in hers, giving the small, agile fingers a reassuring squeeze, refusing to let go as for a moment they twisted, seeking escape. /Oh Imoen, you were supposed to be my innocence now - what has he done to you?/ "Khalid is right," Alyndria forced her voice not to tremble. "This is not getting us anywhere. Let's go."

"She sleeps, Khalid," Minsc whispered, brushing a strand of hair back from the Druid's death-pale face. "You must believe, for if there is anyone who can wake her, our witchpriest will."




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