All That Glitters...2

Chapter Two

"Who...who be thee?" the voice croaked from deep inside the tank. "Servants of the master?"

Everyone snapped bolt upright at the unexpected sound. Kal peered into the tank...and instantly recoiled. "By...by the gods, what happened to you, man?"

"I am... dying... or dead... I remember not which. Where is the master?"

"I don't know where the master is. I don't care to, really. Who are you?" Kal asked.

"It is difficult to... to remember... I was Rielev... dead, I think."

"Rielev...we were told about Rielev, right? That strange djinn, Aataqah, mentioned him," Cel said.

"As I recall, we were to give him the release he sought..." Jaheira said.

"Release!" Rielev shrieked, hearing the word, "Release! Yes...Master...I no longer wish to come back! Let me slip into the oblivion that has been denied me! Please!"

"How am I to do that?" Kal asked him.

"This... unit that contains me is powered by cells, by crystals. Take them and I can sleep... die... again...die at last." Kal backed away at that, and was about to respond when Rielev interrupted him, "I know you are prisoners. Some things do not change. You must escape this place and the master's experiments. There are others... like me but of more recent experiments...They may know how the master exits the complex. Will you take these cells to revive them and learn what you can, in return for this path to freedom I have offered you?"

"I..." Kal began, but was interrupted again, this time by Imoen.

"This poor creature wishes to die? Right here?" she asked, almost to herself. "We should...We should help... we should... we should see what happens now!" With that, she sprang forward and snatched up the power cells, which came loose with a faint click. The light glowing from the device faded, and the tattered brown remnants of what had been Rielev settled gently to the bottom of the tank. Imoen was still staring at the darkened tank. "I can't look away, Kal. I've seen death before, but not like this. This is...this is...I can't look away...."

"...Immy?" was all Kal could manage.

"Death is... pretty. Why would I think that? I...I...." Imoen collapsed into sobs, and her knees buckled. Kal immediately went over to her and hugged her, letting her cry into his shoulder. "What...did he do to us, Kal? What...did he do to me?" She let the power cells drop from her hand, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She pushed the power cells toward Kal with her foot. "Take them. I...don't want to look at them."

"Jaheira, why don't you stay here with Imoen. Minsc, let's go check out that other room, see if any goblins have gotten in there. As long as we have these," Kal said, fingering the power cells in his free hand, "we might as well use them." Jaheira nodded and sat down on the floor next to Imoen. Imoen latched on to her and began crying anew.

---

The things in the tanks, through their insane rants, had provided some information. Enough to make Kal understand that a sewer golem was the key to opening the locked doors, and that it was to be found behind a door that had been skipped over before. Opening it, they found a round room occupied by the sewer golem and a few pieces of equipment.

"A medium shield...and a sword. This sword looks magical," Imoen added.

"Excellent. I was wondering when we'd find a good shield," Kal said as he stepped forward and fastened the shield to his left arm. Then he frowned. "It feels...wrong."

"Wrong? What do you mean by wrong?" Jaheira asked, probably a bit more sharply than she had intended. "It is a shield. Shields are not right or wrong."

"I don't know...I mean...wrong." Kal waved his shield arm about. "Wrong. Slow. Minsc, take a swing." Minsc obediently took out his sword and swept it through the air. "No, no. At me. I won't be hurt much. Just swing."

Minsc shrugged. "Eh...if you say so, Kal. Minsc does not understand, and Boo does not either. I think this is a first." Readying his sword, Minsc swung it directly at Kalvorin.

No one was quite sure what happened next, but it was undeniably clumsy. Kal tried to bring his shield up, but the motion was jerky, uncertain, and it looked for a moment as if he was fighting his arm just to get it into a guard position. When he did, it was badly placed: too close, and improperly angled. Minsc's sword struck the centre of the shield and Kal, already off his balance, tumbled backward and rolled into the wall.

"That was graceful," Cel said.

Lying up against the wall, Kal blinked. "That...wasn't supposed to happen."

Jaheira just shook her head. "Evidently not."

"Never seen someone forget how to use a shield...." Cel said.

"So...uh...what do you do now? Fight with a hand free?" Imoen asked.

"It wouldn't be just my hand," Kal said, extending his left hand's claws, pointedly, twisting his wrist so that the claws flashed brilliant gold in the fading torchlight. "But..," Kal half-replied, getting to his feet. "It feels like it needs...a weapon. Pass me that sword." Kal hefted the sword in his left hand, experimentally. "All right, Minsc, take a swing."

The big ranger shrugged again, then readied his sword. He brought it over in a mighty overhand swing that would have cleft anyone in half. Entirely on instinct, however, Kal caught the sword between crossed blades and ducked, spinning a complete circle. This ripped the sword out of Minsc's hands and sent it clattering against the wall, while Kal finished his spin and brought one, then the other blade over in a perfectly timed double-slash that stopped just short of actually touching Minsc's neck and side.

Imoen whistled. "Not bad, Kal. Like something Drizzt Do'Urden would do."

Kal grinned. "Drizzt this, Drizzt that. Sounds like the Imoen I knew before," he teased. She flashed him an answering grin, spirits lifted by the simple exchange.

"What do we do with this shield then?" Jaheira asked, picking it up.

"Save it for Khalid, of course," Kal said. Jaheira nodded and strapped the shield to her back. Kal looked down at his left hand, holding the longsword. "I don't know what he did to me, why I feel I need another..weapon, but this is not the time nor place to figure out what he did and how to undo it."

"Wait...wait just a minute here!" Cel said, as Kal belted the second scabbard into place on his right side. "You don't mean...this isn't permanent, is it?"

"Why're ya askin', Cel?" Imoen asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Jealous? Afraid you'll have to...share?"

"No...but...what...that's...but..." the sword spluttered. Recovering, her pommel gem flickered at Imoen. "You're a nasty, nasty girl, Immy. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Cel. Don't try and change the subject."

"Hmph," the sword answered. "There is no ‘subject'."

---

"That? You call that, something of mine?" Kal asked the djinni incredulously.

"You share an aura with it, young godling," it said. "It is yours, if it is anyone's. Now I must be off! To freedom before the master returns!" And with a puff of smoke, it vanished. Sarevok's black sword clattered to the ground.

A long moment passed, all four of them simply looking at the sword, no one willing to move forward.

"All right," Kal said, to break the silence. "It's probably worth at least something, even if we won't keep it." He leaned down and put his hand on the hilt.

A wave of blackness seemed to spread through him at the touch, a grasping feeling of coldness and blackness and murder and death that reached out from the blade to claw at his heart. He tried to pull his hand away, but everything was moving in slow motion, his hand was moving so slowly, he was still touching the sword...! A shadow that was almost gleaming blackness crept up his arm, a ravening hunger which had found something it wanted and that it wanted more of, something it needed to use....

Kal pulled his hand away, falling backwards violently as if struck, almost reflexively curling up as he hit the floor. Imoen, Jaheira and Minsc looked at each other in puzzlement. All they'd seen was Kal leaning over, touching the sword, and then falling backwards. "Kal? Are...are you all right?" Imoen asked.

Kalvorin wasn't listening. He didn't hear Imoen's question, nor the anguished cries which followed it. He was curled up on the floor, eyes shut tight, the dark presence having made its way through the sword and deep into him. A part of Kal was newly alive, a part newly aware, one that seemed red as blood and steeped in the very essence of murder. There was a sense of familiarity about it, and Kal recognized the faint stirrings he felt whenever he used his powers to heal, or cure poison. But that was merely the tiniest fraction compared to the enormous, dark whole that Kal now sensed. The darkness from the sword called to it, stirred it to action...and that hidden red something responded. Kal's claws unconsciously slid out as the two powers, presences inside him responded to each other, calling to Kal to join them in their dance of blood and murder. Images flashed through his mind, of Kal wearing Sarevok's black, spiked armor; of Kal wielding Sarevok's sword.

No, damn you, he answered the two in thought, I will not. I won't do it. Kal bent all of his willpower toward resisting the urges, the images which the darkness sent him, the whispers. One whisper spoke of dominance, and sent the image of masses bowing to his will. Another whisper spoke of death, and sent the images of the bodies, all the bodies of his enemies, the sweetness of death he could taste simply by giving in....

Kal marshalled his will again. With a thought that carried almost physical force, he drove back the whispers and urges and the two presences inside of him. For all their temptations, they were not strong enough to break his will, and he felt them weaken. The dark part of Kal that stank of murder retreated and became quiescent, and Kal caught what might have been a bit of a thought and a bit of an emotion. Very well, it said. You win...for now.

The shadow presence which had crawled on to him from Sarevok's sword was now alone, and Kal pushed with every ounce of mental effort he could muster to reject it, to remove it. Another thought/emotion drifted into Kal's consciousness. You cannot destroy me. You cannot escape me. One day, you will call for me. Until then, I can wait. And it faded, not away, but into Kal, and he felt both a burst of dark power and a release from his inner battle.

Kal's eyes snapped open. Mere seconds had passed since he had touched the sword, but it had felt like ages had gone by.

"Kal!" Imoen screamed, shaking him. He slowly sat up, and drew in his claws.

"I...I think I'm going to be fine, Im. Don't...don't worry about it."

"Too late, Kal. Out with it," Cel said, as Kal got to his feet.

Kal tried a different tack. "It's nothing you have to concern yourselves with."

"Kaaaal! You dumb oaf!" Imoen yelled, pounding on him with her fists. Kal could see the tears streaming from her eyes. "I hate it when you do that!"

"Just...trust me, please, Im?"

Imoen sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I hate it when you say that, too," she said, "because I can't say no." Kal hugged her again, and held her for a few moments. Presently, she looked up at him.

"All right, I...think I've got a handle on it now." She sniffled again. "Enough to get out of this place, anyway."

"So, fearless leader, what do we do with the sword?" Jaheira asked, snapping Kal back to reality with a rough jerk.

"It's all right now," he said, though he did not know how he knew. Kal knew that now he could take up that two-handed blade, take up any two-handed blade, and wield it with unsurpassed mastery. The piece of Sarevok - or was it a piece of Bhaal that was left after Sarevok died? - had given him that. Even then he felt its urging to him to take up the blade and kill, but it was weak and Kal easily suppressed it. "Just an ordinary enchanted blade. Minsc, take it: it's better than the plain sword you have now."

Minsc still eyed the blade with some suspicion. I'm going to have to get this across in a way he understands, Kal thought. Aloud, Kal added "There was a bit of Sarevok's evil left with the blade, but I got rid of it. It's not evil any more."

"Ah! Minsc understands! Kalvorin was kicking the butt of evilness in bad sword!" Minsc picked up the sword, though he strapped the plain one across his back, just in case.

"Yep, that's right, Minsc," Kal said, ignoring Imoen and Jaheira's suspicious stares. That explanation wouldn't satisfy them, but it would hold until they got out. "So, what are we waiting for? Let's get out of here."