Baldur's Gate II Throne of Bhaal (25 page)

Abdel tried to swing himself around so he could cut himself down, but his muscles refused to respond. He couldn’t even make his fingers twitch, he couldn’t even scream out his frustration. One of the Five was less than ten feet away, and he could do nothing.

Images of violence and unbridled savagery filled his mind. He envisioned himself ripping the thin elf limb from limb. He imagined his sword splitting her skull and spraying gray matter across the thick trunks of the nearby trees. He fantasized about slicing open her stomach and watching her clutch feebly at her guts as they spilled out and onto the forest underbrush. His imaginings aside, Abdel simply hung from the noose like meat on a hook, swaying slightly from side to side.

With a quick swipe of her blade Abdel’s captor cut him loose. His body dropped like a stone. Unable to even roll his shoulders to absorb his fall, Abdel slammed onto the ground, landing facedown.

The fires of Bhaal’s fury began to rise within Abdel’s soul. Instead of quelling the flames as he had so often done, Abdel stoked the embers of hatred into an inferno of madness raging inside his impotent body.

Crouching beside Abdel’s motionless form, the drow rolled him over to stare into the eyes of her helpless victim.

“Imoen shares your fate,” she whispered, determined to deliver a cruel blow to Abdel’s heart before she delivered the slash to his throat. “I killed her myself.”

Though his throat was frozen in silence, Abdel’s mind screamed in protest. Not Imoen, too! Jaheira’s death had ripped his soul bare. He thought the pain he felt from his lover’s loss was infinite. But the knowledge that Imoen now lay dead as well, shredded new wounds in his spirit. The unbearable suffering—a pain within his heart greater than any physical injury he had ever sustained— grew even worse. Gorion, Jaheira, and Imoen. Their blood was on Abdel’s hands.

The drow continued to speak, but Abdel no longer even comprehended her words. Consumed by the burning darkness of Bhaal, the part of his being that was Abdel Adrian was gone. Only the vile essence of the Lord of Murder remained. As it had done once while under the spells of the sorcerer Irenicus, Abdel’s body began to change. This time he urged it onward. His bones cracked, and his skin burst apart, unable to contain a skeleton four times the size of Abdel’s own. His hands became claws, his head a hideous combination of mandibles and teeth. Two more arms exploded from his chest, their taloned fingers ripping and slashing at the air. His skin formed a hard, chitinous exoskeleton. The Ravager had been unleashed on Faerun once more.

The transformation was instantaneous. Where Abdel had once been, only an abomination remained, lying prone on its back beneath the twisted branches overhead. Sendai leaped back in horrified surprise, her finely honed instincts for self preservation saving her from a quick and violent death.

The drow didn’t wait to see if the creature was mobile but vanished into the trees, fleeing for her life. It was too late for her. The thing that now lay on the forest floor was not a creature of the mortal world, it was not affected by the paralyzing toxins Sendai had pumped into Abdel’s body, and it was much, much quicker than the drow.

Sendai’s lithe form flitted in and out among the thick trunks and sturdy branches of the trees. Her desperate flight was hampered by the dense woods, but if anything the enormous creature behind her would find its own progress even more difficult. The heavy forest growth would help hide her from the monster’s sight as she fled without a sound.

The Ravager didn’t need to hear or see her to track her. It could smell her, as it could smell all living things. The great demon leaped up from the forest floor, smashing its head and shoulders through the canopy of leaves and twigs hanging in its path. It caught the drow’s scent and bounded off in pursuit.

While the drow was forced to weave in and out between the trees, the Ravager took a more direct route. Crashing through the undergrowth, it left a wide path of shattered stumps, uprooted trees and trampled vegetation in its wake. The horrendous thunder of its pursuit could be heard throughout the Forest of Mir, sending birds, game animals, and far more monstrous beasts scurrying for cover. The terrible din was only cut short by the shrieks of Sendai as the beast ran her down.

The Ravager ripped Sendai apart with its four arms, bathing in her blood and reveling in her suffering as it tore her into tiny bits. The beast gorged itself on her spewing innards, then cast the drow’s physical shell aside as it sensed the invisible essence of Bhaal that wafted up from the corpse like the scent of rotting evil.

Abdel Adrian found himself in his human form again, standing once more in the Abyssal realm of Bhaal.

Balthazar sat motionless in the secret uppermost room of the monastery’s central tower. It was nothing more than a tiny chamber completely surrounded by the thick marble of the tower’s roof. There were no doors or windows, no physical entrances or exits whatsoever. Accessible only through the mystical passages of an enlightened mind, the room was Balthazar’s inner sanctum, inviolate and impregnable. Even his own disciples were unable to enter—only he had

mastered the mental discipline that enabled him to transport his physical body through solid rock and into the secluded meditation chamber.

He needed no food or water. He did not even require air. His body had reached a state of purity, a state of awareness and existence far beyond the physical consciousness that bound all the world in chains they could not even see.

Balthazar had already been in his hibernation chamber a full day before Melissan had arrived with the girl Imoen, though time had little meaning in his current state. He remained there while Sendai had slit the Bhaalspawn’s throat and didn’t move when Melissan made her escape. He was still there now, focusing his mind in preparation for the battle to come.

From here, he could see and hear events across the entire continent: the secrets of Waterdeep nobles plotting in their high towers; the clandestine whispers of Amnian adulterers huddling beneath the sheets at a seedy inn; the laughter of Sembian commoners in a tavern; the prayers of a Daleland widower by his wife’s grave. The screams of a dying drow in the Forest of Mir.

They were only two now—Abdel and Balthazar, last of the Bhaalspawn. Soon there would be only one. Melissan had become inconsequential to their destiny. Bhaal’s Anointed had become irrelevant. Melissan still had her part to play, but it was a minor role. She would send Abdel after Balthazar. They would fight. Balthazar would kill him. And this would all be over.

As he stood in the plane of the Abyss that had once been the home of Bhaal, Abdel could remember becoming the Ravager. He remembered the sensation of his body transforming, becoming the demon. He remembered rushing through the forest, hunting the fleeing drow. He remembered ripping into Sendai’s soft, yielding form with his claws, the glorious taste of death on his teeth and tongue. The memories were distant and faint, as if they were not his own. He had not done those things. Abdel Adrian was not responsible for the bloody slaughter. It had been the Ravager.

“But you unleashed the Ravager.” The being that had confronted him in the past materialized before him once more, its infinite voice once again responding to thoughts he had not spoken aloud.

Abdel ignored the creature before him and turned his attention to the doors that would lead him away from this place and back to the material plane where he could resume his quest to avenge Jaheira’s death. There were only two doors now.

“As you slay each of the Five, the potential fates of you and your kin become fewer.”

Interesting, but not interesting enough to keep Abdel from leaving.

“Beware, Abdel Adrian,” the annoying creature warned. “You risk losing yourself to the Ravager. It cannot be controlled. It will devour you from within even as it devours your enemies.”

The big sellsword spun to face the being preaching at him. “I don’t care!” he spat in anger. “As long as it lets me kill the Five, I don’t care what happens to me!”

The being shook its glorious head. “Abdel, I fear for your future—and the future of Abeir-Toril. There is so much you do not know. So much I would tell you, were it not forbidden by the power I serve.”

“There is nothing you can say that would affect me now,” Abdel assured his host with a sneer. “You cannot bring back Jaheira, or Imoen, or even Gorion. My Bhaal blood has brought only suffering and loss. There is no hope for me, no chance for happiness. All I have left is my vengeance.”

Your bitterness is understandable, Abdel. But suffering and loss are a part of existence—mortal or immortal. Your words dishonor the memories of those who have walked by your side down the path of your destiny. Learn from their examples.”

“Learn? Learn what?” Abdel made no effort to hide the scorn in his voice.

“Sarevok showed you the potential for redemption.”

“And now he is dead.”

“Jaheira saved you through the power of her love.” “And now she is dead.”

“Gorion sacrificed himself so that you might achieve your destiny.”

“And he too is dead. Is that the lesson you would have me learn? Death? I know that lesson all too well, my starry friend, and I intend to share this learning with each and every one of the Five.”

His adversary changed tactics. “There is only one of the Five left,” it said. “Kill him and the blood of Bhaal will survive only in you.”

Abdel shrugged. “So my work is almost done.” He turned and stepped through the door.

As the plane of Bhaal dissolved away, he heard the infinite voice call out, “There is more to your destiny than mere vengeance, Abdel. I pray you are ready for what will come.”

Melissan found Abdel along the sole path cutting through the southern arm of the Forest of Mir, less than a mile away from the western edge of the woods. The big sellsword was wearing only a hooded cowl that seemed at least two sizes too small for his massive frame. In one hand he carried a heavy broadsword. In the other he held Sendai’s dagger, its blade easily recognizable by the arcane symbols etched upon its surface. His body was covered in blood and gore, his feet were bare, and he was traveling on foot.

“Praise the gods you yet live!” the Melissan exclaimed as she pulled up her mount beside him. “I came to warn that an assassin hunts you. One of the Five.”

“The drow is dead,” Abdel said simply. “And the lizard man.”

“Abazigal and Sendai are both …” Melissan muttered, then seemed to catch herself at the last second and changed topics in mid-sentence. “We have been betrayed, Abdel. Imoen is dead.”

“I know.” Abdel was surprised at how much the words still hurt, even now. The mere mention of his half sister’s demise was like a knife twisting in his heart. “Tell me what happened.”

“We sought sanctuary in Amkethran’s monastery. The monks welcomed us, invited us in, and promised to protect us. They took Imoen to the central tower to guard her, but by morning she was dead.”

“The drow assassin,” Abdel guessed.

Melissan nodded. “Sendai was her name. But I fear there is a yet more sinister explanation behind Imoen’s death. The leader of the monastery—a monk named Balthazar—I believe he was working with Sendai. I think … I think he is the last of the Five, Abdel.

“I cannot say if the other monks know of his secret. I doubt they do. They serve their master absolutely, completely oblivious to his true nature.”

The big sellsword bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He felt Melissan wasn’t telling him everything. She was still holding something back, she still kept her secrets well guarded. It was obvious she had known about Sendai and failed to warn either Abdel or Imoen about the drow. Abdel didn’t care what games Melissan was playing anymore. She had told him more than enough.

“Give me your horse,” he demanded. “I want to be fresh when I reach Amkethran.”

He thought Melissan would try to dissuade him or suggest some type of plan other than a frontal assault. At the very least he thought she might even offer her help. Instead she only said, “Good luck, Abdel.”

Abdel leaped from his horse once he reached the tents and ramshackle mud buildings of Amkethran. He ripped the cowl from his body—he wanted nothing to slow him down when he faced Balthazar. The sight of a naked, seven-foot-tall, heavily muscled man drenched in dried blood and wielding a heavy broadsword in one hand and a cruel, rune covered dagger in the other sent the few people he encountered scurrying for cover.

The great iron doors of the monastery were barred against him, but Abdel ripped them from their hinges. With each death of the Five he had become stronger and more powerful, growing ever closer to his father’s immortal existence. Abdel believed he now had the strength to smash right through the marble walls if necessary.

He stepped through the torn gates and was immediately attacked by an army of the monastery’s guardians. The warrior monks fought without weapons, delivering lightning-fast kicks to his knees, punching their fists in a blur at his throat, driving their knees to his groin. Their attacks would have shattered the bones of any mortal.

Abdel shrugged off the blows as meaningless. He slashed out with his sword and Sendai’s dagger, driving the monks back as they dodged his cuts and stabs or fell injured to the ground. But he didn’t follow up his initial attacks. His efforts were merely meant to clear a path through the mob. The deaths of these mindless followers of Balthazar were inconsequential to Abdel, and pursuing the injured to finish them off would only cost him precious time.

Had he wished for slaughter, it would have been a simple task to unleash the Ravager on his enemies. But the demon lusted only for indiscriminate death, it cared nothing for Abdel’s desire for revenge. If Abdel set the Ravager free now, Balthazar might escape unnoticed in the ensuing carnage. So Abdel quelled the rising fire of his father’s evil, and he pressed on with grim, passionless determination.

The monks threw themselves at him, willing—even eager—to sacrifice themselves to halt his progress, but their adversary was immune to their fists and feet. Despite their overwhelming numbers and despite the fact that Abdel couldn’t even be bothered to kill them, they were unable to slow his relentless advance toward the tall tower in the center of the compound.