Memento Mori: 12

There was no escape from the light. Though the Hunter threw up one arm to shield her face, it could not block the punishing rays, and so her pale cheeks and forehead smoldered. If she tried to turn away, the sun still seared the scalp beneath her black hair, which trapped the heat and magnified it, and in the space of a breath she felt as if her head was aflame. The fingerwidth of exposed skin on the back of her neck, where her shoulder-length hair parted as she leaned forward, became as hot as live coals. If she stayed under the sun a moment longer, her skin would begin to blacken and smoke. And then, a moment after that, there would be fire.

Worse, the terrible light took her away her vision so that she could not seek a path to safety. But worst of all was the terror gibbering in her mind, stealing her thoughts until she could do nothing except wail curses at herself for committing such a serious blunder for the first time in more years that she could count. Not since she was a very small child, who had learned too quickly to confine her play to the safe shade of the wagons.

Holding a gloved hand above her eyes to shade them, the Hunter could just make out the dark portal of the doorway that lead into the dungeon, and she stumbled forward. A few steps only and she would be safe from the sun, back into the cool blackness where she belonged. Once there, where he could move in safety, she would be able to figure out what was happening.

But before she reached the door, something solid and heavy struck her, throwing her to the ground. Around her the air throbbed with the report of a deafening explosion. First blind, she now was deaf, and as the earth trembled and shook, and stones and dirt rained down around her, she became disoriented. But the scents of dust and blood, oiled leather and sweat filled her nostrils, and the agony of her burning flesh had been replaced by the less-painful itch of healing. The thing that had struck her was a man, and he was protecting her not only from the falling debris but the sun as well, and her fear lessened enough for her to open her eyes.

The Hunter found herself lying in a small patch of shadow created by Yoshimo, who was kneeling above her. He began to rise, holding the Hunter's good arm to pull her up with him, but she clutched his hand to stop him. "Me pomoshinav," the Hunter pleaded, her senses so addled she did not realize nor care that she spoke to him in Romany. "Me pomoshinav, bolde, man tut monj!!"

Yoshimo shook his head and tried to rise again, but she desperately held him down. "What do you need?" he asked sharply. "I don't know what you want. We can't stay here, understand?"

"Bolde, the deram ..." His harsh tone and the receding pain as skin regenerated finally cleared the haze around the Hunter's brain, and through clenched teeth she managed to say in Common, "The light ... please, it burns me. I cannot bear it!" She plucked at the scarf covering her immobile left arm.

Yoshimo looked at the black cloth and her badly sunburned face, then glanced up at the sun that was dimmed by the smoke and dust swirling around them. When he bent to untie the knot holding the sling around her neck, he held himself carefully so that she remained his shadow. The expression on his face was one of understanding rather than the judgment the Hunter had expected. Off came the cloth, which he handed to the Hunter without a word and watched as she hastily folded the scarf and draped it over her head, arranging it so it formed a hood deep enough to cast a shadow over her face. Thankfully, she could now move her left arm, though it was stiff and her healed collarbone still ached.

As Yoshimo pulled her to her feet, the Hunter cast her eyes about them to find safety. And to her dismay, she found that it did not exist. The door to the dungeon was gone, buried under a landslide of rock and debris higher than her head. Spatters of blood and chunks of flesh littered the ground at her feet, and the crackle of magical energy flying above them made her crouch as she and Yoshimo ran for cover behind a cracked boulder. They dove behind the stone just as another explosion sprayed into the air sharp shards of rock, some of which pattered to the ground around them. One caught the Hunter's eye, for it was shaped very much like part of a hand. And then she realized it was a hand. Nudging Yoshimo, who still crouched over her to protect her from the light, she sidled around the boulder and took in the battlefield.

Atop the debris, surrounded by a phalanx of men and women in leathers, stood a man unlike any the Hunter had ever before seen in her long life. Though tall and muscular, his arrogant posture told her he was not human. But he lacked the features of elf or tiefling, and he could not be of orcish descent. On his hairless head she saw a series of metal rivets, placed as if to hold his skull together. On his body she spied a patchwork of scars so intricate they were almost art. It was as if he had been split apart and put back together by someone who knew only remotely what a man should look like. He could be no one other than the Shattered One.

Wave after wave of Shadow Thieves died under his magical assaults. Those that were not turned to stone and blasted apart were simply slain where they stood. The Hunter saw Greeneley and Imoen across the rubble, huddling terrified behind Jaheira, who watched the display with open-mouthed awe, her scimitar slack in her hand. At their feet lay Minsc, a large purple lump rising on his broad forehead.

When the last thief turned to dust under his spell, the Shattered One looked at the women and smiled cruelly. "So godchild, you've escaped," he said, his cold voice cruel and rich from an accent the Hunter could not place. "You are more resourceful than I thought." Godchild? the Hunter thought, but she said nothing as she continued to watch.

Greeneley, still hunkered behind Jaheira, clutched the half-elven woman's legs and whimpered, a piteous noise that tugged at the Hunter's sympathy. Imoen, however, threw her head back and met the Shattered One's gaze defiantly. "You're not going to torture us," she screamed. "You're not going to hurt us any more!"

The dilo laughed, a horrifying noise that sounded like knives scraping bone. "Torture? Really, you silly little girl," he chided, "you just don't know what I'm doing."

"I don't care what you're doing! I don't care! You can't hurt me anymore, you can't!"

He turned to point a shaking finger at Imoen, his back now to the Hunter. "I won't let you leave! Not when I'm so close to unlocking your power!"

"I don't want anything from you! I'm don't want anything from anyone! I'm through, do you hear me?! I'm out!" Imoen's shrill cry scaled up as she shrieked a spell that culminated with four glowing missiles shooting from her hands. They struck the Shattered One, interrupting him just enough to make him grunt as he cast a spell in return. Imoen cried out as a ring of fire circled her, and she and Jaheira danced madly to stomp on the flames to extinguish them. Now bereft of Jaheira's protection, Greeneley fell to her knees beside Minsc and crawled under his slack arm, her little bottom sticking straight up in the air as she hid her face in the dirt.

The Hunter pulled her bastard sword from the scabbard on her back, slowly to make sure the metal didn't scrape against the leather. From the sheathe at her hip she took the spelled wooden short sword. It would cut only dead flesh, but even if the Shattered One did indeed live, a blow from it could still stun him. If Imoen would hold his attention for a moment more, the Hunter would end this terror and finish her boon to Linvail in a single stroke.

But as she rose, Yoshimo caught her arm. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

The Hunter easily pulled free of his grip, which seemed to surprise him. "What I have come to Athkatla to do. Leave me to my task, tshorave."

"You won't have to! We're in Athkatla!" An odd delight dancing in Yoshimo's brown eyes made the Hunter pause. It was the same look she had seen below in the dungeon after she had defeated the mula, the look of a beaten man who had found something to believe in, except this time magnified a hundredfold. "Just wait! It's all going to be all right. It'll be over in just a moment!"

"But-"

"No!" Yoshimo rose and took her by the shoulders, heedless of the blades in her hands, and tried to steer her again behind the stone. "Trust me, ryoujin! He can't stand up to the Cowled Wizards! Whatever he is, he can't survive them!"

"Who-" the Hunter began to ask, but before she could, a flash of sparkling lights blinded her, forcing her to turn away and hide her eyes against Yoshimo's shoulder, with his arm tightly around her waist as he attempted to keep her at his side. She did not move away but, head pressed against him to cut the light, she dared to open her eyes.

The silvery, sparkling lights traced circles in the air that became portals, out of which grey-robed mages stepped. One stood beside Yoshimo and the Hunter; one had appeared next to Imoen, while the rest ringed the Shattered One, much like the thieves had. "This is an unsanctioned use of magical energy!" the mage beside the Hunter barked. "All involved will be held! This disturbance is finished!"

The dilo turned to face the speaker, and finally the Hunter saw his face. His gaze passed over her without seeing her, then settled on the mage, who blanched. She understood now what Linvail had meant when he said Irenicus wasn't alive, why Yoshimo said he wasn't a man. Her fist tightened on the bastard sword's hilt, but she did not move. "Must I be interrupted at every turn?" he asked the mage coldly. Without awaiting an answer, he raised his hand to the mage and spat an incantation. The mage exploded in a hail of red dust. Yoshimo and the Hunter cried out in unison and ducked, but the windborne dust coated their backs and drifted around them like bloody smoke.

The magical battle began again, a thousand times worse than before, for now the Shattered One was not the only one casting. For every spell that managed to touch him, four grey-robed wizards died at his hands, but they kept coming and coming, the sparkling flash of their portals ceaselessly bringing more mages to their deaths. And there was nothing the Hunter could do to help them except huddle beside Yoshimo, whose face had lost the elation that had brightened it just a moment before, and pray to Kelemvor for every soul lost.

A portal opened in front of the stone the Hunter and Yoshimo were crouched behind, and two mages emerged. "This mage's power is immense!" she heard one of the mages cry to his compatriot. She rose and peeked over around the boulder. Yoshimo, however, remained crouched behind the stone, his hands over his eyes. "It is hopeless! We cannot over come him!"

The other mage, a stocky man with a wide stance, spat on the ground and pointed at the Shattered One. "You!" he thundered. "You will cease your spellcasting and come with us!"

The Shattered One turned and met the mage's gaze. Even though his hateful glare was not directed at her, the Hunter still shuddered. "You bore me, mageling," he sneered. "Your pathetic magics are useless."

The stocky mage did not move, though his companion quivered, and suddenly the Hunter smelled the slight odor of urine. "Even if we fall, we are many," the stocky mage said. "You cannot win. You will be overwhelmed."

No one moved while the mage and the Shattered One stared one another down. The mad wizard's face was as calm and cold as a mask. Then, slowly, he turned and looked at Imoen, then faced the mage and smiled. "Let this end," he said. "You may take me in, but you will take the girl as well."

The mage made a curt gesture, and on cue three mages sprinted to the Shattered One's side. And one, who had been standing beside Imoen, roughly took her arm. "Wait!" she cried. "What r'ya doing? I didn't do anything! I was helping you!"

"You have been involved in illegal use of magic!" the stocky mage said. "You will come."

"No!" Jaheira's strong voice echoed over the debris. She started toward Imoen as she said, "She is not the cause of this. You have your man! Leave her be!"

The mages began to cast their portal spells, and again the light made the Hunter wince. From behind her gloved hand, she saw Imoen struggling with the mage, watched as Jaheira kicked into a run to save her friend. "I'm not going with him! I'm not!" Imoen wailed. She threw out an arm and lunged toward Jaheira, but the mage's grip was too tight. She changed direction and flung her arm toward the Hunter, who was too far away to do anything except watch. "Help me, please! Don't let them take me! Help me! HELP M-"

The lights vanished, and a heavy silence fell over the small group, which was left alone on a ruined patch of ground, surrounded by death and destruction, their ears pulsing with the echo of Imoen's screams.

---

Glossary, Romany:
Me pomoshinav -- Help me
bolde -- please
man tut monj -- I beg you
the deram -- the light
dilo -- madman
tshorave -- thief
mula -- vampire(f and pl.)

Glossary, Kozakuran:
ryoujin -- hunter