Confident now that both Jaheira and Imoen were unharmed, Abdel took quick stock of his environment. The clearing was still bathed in the light of Jaheira's incantation, but glancing up Abdel could see the night above was still dark. The dead, twisted trees still surrounded them, and the decaying leaves still carpeted the clearing floor. The reeking bodies of the foul wolves lay scattered about. Abdel's gaze merely skimmed over their mangled forms, and he quickly averted his eyes when they wandered across to the broken, bloody corpse of the Huntress crumpled near the edge of the clearing.

  "How long was I gone?" he asked.

  Jaheira took a step back and tilted her head so that she could look directly up into the eyes of her man. His question seemed to momentarily catch her off guard. "A few seconds, Abdel. You were here one second, the next you were gone. What happened?"

  Abdel didn't answer right away. He took a second to collect his thoughts.

  "I ... I was taken to another plane. I think. I think I was in the Abyss."

  The half-elf looked at him with curious eyes, but it was Imoen who voiced the question. "The Abyss? Who or what could possibly have summoned you there?"

  Taking a deep breath, Abdel replied, "Sarevok."

  Jaheira gasped and brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

  "Sarevok?" Imoen asked. "Why do I recognize that name?"

  There was a brief silence. Neither Abdel nor Jaheira was anxious to speak of Sarevok's crimes and open old emotional scars. It was Jaheira who finally spoke.

  "He was also a Child of Bhaal, Imoen. He had Gorion killed, and Khalid, my husband. Sarevok tried to start a war in Baldur's Gate. Hundreds of innocent people suffered horribly from his actions. Abdel killed him in the end."

  "He's the one who murdered Gorion?" Imoen whispered, not trying to mask the shock and sympathy in her voice. "How horrible it must have been, Abdel, meeting him again."

  It was Jaheira who asked the next question, the one Abdel had been dreading.

  "What did he want?"

  Abdel shuffled his feet, struggling to make himself say the words. "He wanted me to bring him back to life."

  Imoen actually laughed. "That's impossible! You're no cleric, Abdel!"

  The big sellsword fixed his gaze on Jaheira, trying to read her face as he spoke the next words. "No, it is possible. He told me how, in exchange for the knowledge of how to return to this world. Jaheira would have to help me."

  "No!" The half-elf turned her head and spat contemptuously on the ground. "No! I would never do such a thing. To release such a vile evil upon the world is unthinkable. Leave his soul trapped there for all eternity. He deserves no better!"

  Gently, Abdel placed his uninjured hand on Jaheira's shoulder. He understood her feelings—his own reaction had initially been the same. Abdel had listened to Sarevok's offer, and he had to share it with her.

  "He claims he has changed. He claims the taint of Bhaal has been purged from his soul. I think..." Abdel had to pause, and collect his breath before he could continue. "I think he could show me how to do the same."

  Lowering her eyes to the ground, Jaheira shook her head in a mute rejection of Abdel's request. Abdel reached out and cupped her chin in his enormous palm and brought her head up until he could look into her eyes. She was crying.

  The death of Khalid had brought Abdel and Jaheira together, and the big man knew the guilt and grief over the circumstances of her husband's death still ached in Jaheira's mind. He had always been careful never to press her, never to force her to try and reconcile the contradiction of their love being the result of such a tragedy. Now he was asking Jaheira to forgive the man who had killed her husband for the sake of the man that had taken Khalid's place in her heart. No matter how intensely Abdel longed to free himself from Bhaal's taint, he had no right to put the woman he loved in this position.

  Disgusted at his own selfishness, Abdel released her chin and turned away. "I'm sorry, Jaheira. I should never have asked. I will not speak of this again."

  * * * * *

  Jaheira knew the fight with the wolves and the archer had drained the energy of the three companions. Once the rush of the battle had worn off they would be even more exhausted than they had been when she had demanded they stop to rest earlier in the night. Despite the unease the druid felt within the now-corrupted nature of the clearing, it would be foolish to travel onward.

  Abdel might have slain the archer, but they all knew there were many, many more enemies hunting them down. Their days of running were far from over. She would have to send Imoen to seek out more of the mint leaves she had gathered earlier—the ones in her pouch had been spoiled by the spell.

  "You must venture beyond the edges of the dead trees," Jaheira explained to the younger woman. "You will need to find fresh, living vegetation." She pressed a single dead leaf into the small hand of the girl. "Like this, but bright green."

  Imoen nodded, her eyes still bright with the rush of the recent encounter. "Don't worry, I'll make sure I stay well hidden."

  With Abdel's half sister gone, Jaheira could now turn her attention to her lover's wounded arm. She had seen the remarkable regenerative powers of Abdel's body many times over the past months. Injuries that would have crippled or even killed a normal man had barely even slowed the giant warrior down. Even during the fight with the wolves he had sustained grave wounds that had vanished almost instantly. For some reason the arrows of the archer had torn his flesh, rending it in such a way that it would not heal.

  "Those arrows," she explained to Abdel as she bandaged his arm and whispered a simple spell to aid the healing process, "were marked with powerful runes and sigils. It is almost as if this woman knew of your ability and knew how to counteract it."

  Abdel winced slightly at the touch of her soft hands on the sensitive under-layer of his flesh. "Perhaps there are other Bhaalspawn like me, ones with special powers because of Bhaal's blood. Maybe some of them were captured and experimented on until a weakness was found."

  Jaheira nodded. "That may be true, my love. There may indeed be others who share your lineage who have been blessed with similar regenerative powers."

  "Blessed?" Abdel muttered in soft surprise. "Nothing of Bhaal's taint is a blessing."

  She finished wrapping his arm in silence, mulling over his words. What right did she have to deny him a chance to free himself from the curse of his blood? If there was a chance for Abdel and Imoen, she reminded herself, to escape the awful legacy of the Lord of Murder, how could she stand in their way?

  "How must it be done?" she whispered, knowing Abdel would understand her meaning.

  The big man shifted his position to gaze in her eyes. Jaheira hoped he could see her steadfast resolution in them. In Abdel's own eyes she could see hesitation, then gratitude and relief.

  "It must be done in the first light of dawn," he said. "We should wait for Imoen to get back."

  * * * * *

  Dawn was approaching. Abdel stood with Jaheira by his side, the half-elf's slender, elegant fingers clenched tightly around his own meaty digits. The pair stood at the center of a circle inscribed on the ground. In accordance with the instructions of Sarevok, Imoen had traced the circle with the blade of a knife dipped in Abdel's own blood.

  Around the circle were a number of other elaborate and arcane symbols. Each of the intricate patterns had been similarly drawn on the hard ground with painstaking precision by the edge of Imoen's bloody dagger. The girl now stood at a distance, anxiously watching her two friends.

  Abdel cast a questioning glance at Jaheira, and she gave him a reassuring nod. The druid began to chant. The words meant nothing to Abdel, of course. He had never learned the language of enchantments. But he could feel the power of the surrounding forest being drawn together by Jaheira's incantation.

  The dead branches around them began to sprout green buds, the trees reborn in the gathering elemental energy Jaheira was drawing forth from the natural elements around her.

  The first rays of morning light glimmered on the horizon, and Abdel stared directly into the rising sun as it crested the edge of the world. Blinded by the light, Abdel suddenly felt himself floating high above the land—though he could still feel the hard ground of the clearing beneath his feet.

  He could no longer feel Jaheira's hand in his grip. He couldn't even feel his own hand anymore. But he could still hear the mantra of words spilling from her lips, calling on Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest, to grant her boon.

  Clenching his eyes shut against the glare, Abdel opened himself to the touch of Jaheira's spell. He felt a tug within his body, then was nearly jerked from his feet by a second pull. He felt a warmth in his loins, then a searing in his breast.

  He opened his mouth to cry out in pain as his blood began to boil, but his voice was mute, silenced by the awful power of the magic coursing through his veins. Then Abdel felt something rip as a piece of his very soul, his essence, was torn away.

  The frozen scream was at last unleashed to echo through the surrounding trees, and Abdel collapsed to his hands and knees.

  Slowly, his vision returned. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Jaheira collapsed on the ground beside him, though she, too, was stirring. Still on his knees, Abdel let his weight sink back onto his heels and looked across the clearing.

  Sarevok stood there in all his glory. The Bhaalspawn's dark metal armor reflected the bright rays of the sun as they struck the black iron. The keen edges of the blades protruding from the plates on Sarevok's back, shoulders, forearms, and lower legs reflected the light of the dawn, giving testament to their sharpness.

  Here in the clearing, as in Bhaal's Abyssal plane, Sarevok was weaponless except for the armor he wore. Abdel scrambled to his feet and drew his sword.

  "You still do not trust me, brother," Sarevok noted, the faintest hint of wry amusement detectable in his otherwise monotone speech.

  Jaheira reached up and set her hand on Abdel's massive thigh. Abdel glanced down at her weary, pleading face and sheathed his sword so that he might help her up.

  "You must be Imoen," Sarevok said, just noticing the slim young woman still hovering on the farthest edge of the clearing. "Abdel did not mention our sister was such an attractive lady."

  Imoen sneered at the armor clad figure. "Save your flattery—I'm no sister of yours!"

  There was a deep sigh from behind the visor of Sarevok's helmet. "So be it. I was only attempting to be polite. In any case, there is little left that ties us together. I sense much of our father's power has been purged from your soul.''

  "Abdel rescued me from Bhaal's evil," Imoen declared, shuddering at the memory of how she had herself been, for a short time, the Lord of Murder's avatar on Faerun.

  "As he rescued me," Sarevok replied. "Abdel carries the weight of our taint on his own soul now. For that we both owe him our thanks."

  The enormous figure slowly turned to face Jaheira. "I must thank you as well, druid, for your part in my resurrection."

  Jaheira glared at Sarevok, and her reply came from between clenched teeth. "I did it for Abdel, not for you."

  Sarevok shrugged, the heavy plates of his armor grating against each other as he did so. "I shall thank you, nevertheless."

  The four figures stood in silence for several seconds until Jaheira blurted out, "Is that all, Sarevok? Have you nothing else to say? Will you not even apologize for the deaths of our loved ones?"

  "Will an apology make any difference?" Sarevok challenged. "It will not bring them back, and I doubt it will make you think any more of me."

  The half-elf spun on her heel and stalked off to stand beside Imoen, placing as much distance between herself and Sarevok as was possible. Abdel momentarily considered following her lead but held his ground.

  "I have done my part, Sarevok," he said, trying to keep the anger and bitterness from his voice. "You are free to walk the mortal world again. I have restored you to life, as promised. Now tell me what I want to know."

  "I walk the land again," Sarevok admitted, "though I do not truly live. Not in any real sense of the word. I have substance, I have form. I can feel and inflict pain. But I am not a creature of flesh and blood as you are, Abdel. I am but an apparition made solid. This armor is my body, the cold scrape of metal is the closest I will ever get to the touch of warm flesh."

  "That is not my concern, Sarevok. I have done what you asked. Now you must fulfill your promise. Tell me about the other Bhaalspawn. Tell me how I may purge myself of this taint."

  "I do not know how you may free yourself from the Lord of Murder's blood, Abdel," Sarevok replied. "I never promised you that."

  "I knew he was not to be trusted!" Jaheira's shrill voice cut through the still air of the early morning. "He has lied to you, Abdel. He has tricked us again!"

  Sarevok held up his hand, the palm of the black gauntlet facing outward, a sign for Jaheira to halt her outburst.

  "I spoke the truth Abdel, I will deliver what I promised. I told you your destiny was tied to that of the other Children of Bhaal who still walk the land. I told you I could help you find them. I promised to lead you to your destiny."

  Abdel stood motionless in front of Sarevok, straining to prevent his muscles from instinctively grabbing for the sword on his back. "And what is this destiny, Sarevok?"

  Again there was the grating shriek of metal on metal as Sarevok shrugged his mighty shoulders. "That I cannot say. Perhaps it is to rid yourself of Bhaal's foul essence. Perhaps not. Maybe Melissan knows."

  "Melissan?" Abdel asked. "Who is she?"

  "She is one who knows more about the Bhaalspawn then I do, Abdel Adrian. If anyone can remove the taint from your soul, it is she. And I know how to find her."

  "Then tell us where to find her and be on your way!" Jaheira cried out from the far side of the clearing.

  The deep rumble of Sarevok's mirthless laugh filled the forest. "Tell you? No, druid. I will do better than that. I will take you to her. My path is tied with that of your lover. I will be by his side every step of the way."

  Abdel took a step toward his half brother, his hand moving unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. "That wasn't the deal, Sarevok!"

  The armored man made no move to protect himself. "Strike me down if you wish, Abdel. I will not defend myself. But know if you do that you will never learn the secrets I can show you."

  The big sellsword's hand slid slowly off the handle of his weapon. He turned and shared a look with Jaheira. There was anger in the half-elf's violet eyes, but Abdel could tell she had come to the same realization he had. They had brought Sarevok back to life, and now they were stuck with him.

  It was Imoen who finally broke the uncomfortable silence that was hanging over the clearing. "So now what?"

  "Now we go to meet Melissan," Sarevok replied. "In Saradush."

  Chapter Five

  The flames from the pit in the center of the temple burned low, casting an eerie red radiance around the room. In the faint light of the ebbing fire it was almost impossible to see the symbol carved into each of the six walls that made up the central chamber of the small building—a grinning gray skull with glowing eyes against a background of tears. The symbol of Bhaal.

  Two shrouded figures stood waiting in the room, neither speaking. Although their robes hid their identities from view, the heavy cloaks did not cover them entirely. Fleeting glimpses of their true forms occasionally came into view with each subtle movement. The larger of the two shifted impatiently, revealing a glimpse of rough, scaly skin just barely visible beneath the shadows of his hood. There was the rasping sound of a slithering snake as he took a shuffling step, and his long, forked tongue flicked out once to taste the air to seek the presence of the others who had not yet arrived.

  The second figure, slender and smaller than her companion, held up her hand to still his nervous fidgeting, her arm moving in a languid, graceful manner. The fingers were long and slender, delicate as those of any elf on the face of Faerun, but the complexion of her elf hand was the color of burnt ash. Only skin that had never seen the light of the surface world could look as pale and as dark, the skin of a creature from the Underdark, the skin of a drow.

  The larger figure turned his cowled head quickly to the only door. A single reptilian eye reflected the dying embers of the fire as he did so.

  A third cloaked figure strode into view, his hood pulled far down to cover his face. He was not as large as the first, but not as slender as the second. Like the drow, his powerful hands were visible beyond the edges of his long sleeves—though they were covered so completely with intricate tattoos and detailed markings it was impossible to even guess what the original color of this man's skin had once been.

  "I summoned you because events are moving quickly," the new arrival announced once he had taken his place by the others.

  The large one hissed, then pointed an accusatory clawed finger at the late comer. "You are not the leader of the Five! Why did Bhaal's Anointed not summon us?"

  "And where are the others?" the female added, her voice a smoky whisper in the flickering twilight.

  "One is leading the siege of Saradush. Our fifth is dead, slain by Gorion's ward."

  "Illasera?" There was a hint of regret in the reptilian voice.

  The tattooed man nodded. "But revenge is soon at hand. Even now Abdel Adrian's fate is sealed. Our trap has been set."

  Such veiled speech came naturally to all of the Five. Bhaal's Anointed had trained them well; all their discussions were shrouded in cryptic phrasing and obscure syntax. For a cult born in the secrecy and shadows surrounding Bhaal's death, vague references were more than mere idiosyncratic habit—they were a tool of survival. In the beginning the Five had been unknown, ignored by the outside world. With the spreading slaughter of the Bhaalspawn, the most powerful eyes in the kingdoms of the South were being focused on their plans.

  The Five were not yet ready to accept such scrutiny. Their mission was still newborn, a frail infant easily slain. The prying eyes and ears of spies were a constant threat to the continued existence of both the Five and the achievement of their ultimate goal. They were ever conscious of the risk of scrying mages and clairvoyant wizards, even when gathered in their inner sanctum. There was no place that was truly safe, no place that could not be infiltrated by a cunning operative or pierced by the powerful divinations of a meddlesome spellcaster. Even here, in this long-abandoned temple of the Lord of Murder, a single false word, a name carelessly revealed or a plan foolishly exposed could give the enemies of the Five enough information to destroy them.