Son of Bhaal

Benerel Aul Harsan

The smooth-barked trees around Bain glowed in shades of red and gold as the sun began its gradual descent. Bain crouched behind a thick string of undergrowth, dagger fisted in his right hand, his breathing slow, deliberate. The forest boar snuffled in the soft earth, questing for tender grubs. When the boar's back was facing Bain, the warrior attacked silently, raising his dagger high and plunging it into the base of the boar's wide neck. The boar screamed in agony, thrashing wildly. Bain clutched the animal's powerful back, stabbing into the boar's neck again and again, finally severing the boar's spine. The boar's legs wobbled as it fell limply to the earth, it snorted once weakly, then fell completely still. Bain gasped for air, he wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand, the dagger still held in his palm. After catching his breath and allowing time for his heart to slow, Bain cleaned his dagger, sheathed it, and crouched down to roll the carcass onto his wide shoulders.

Imoen had started a fire by the time Bain returned to camp. The trio had stopped at the top of a gentle slope that descended into a bowl-shaped depression protected by an impenetrable canopy of trees. Jaheira walked into camp the same time that Bain did, carrying a load of dead branches for the hungry fire.

Bain carefully lowered the boar's carcass and drew his dagger to skin it. Imoen added some of Jaheira's branches to the crackling fire, the half-elf retreated from the fire and the dead boar.

"I..do not enjoy the flesh of animals," murmured Jaheira. "I will leave you to your meal and gather my own repast amidst the bushes nearby."

"Fine. Good," dismissed Imoen without looking at the elf woman.

Jaheira disappeared into the deepening shadows of the forest, Bain shot his sister a reproachful look.

"What?" countered the young woman.

"You shouldn't be so rude to Jaheira, we need her to help us find the ancient city and the Sword of Blood," reminded Bain as he worked.

"I still don't entirely believe her story, you trust her too quickly," rebuked Imoen.

"That's why I keep you around," grinned Bain.

"Fool," smiled Imoen, punching her brother in the arm.

One of the boar's haunches was soon roasting over the fire, grease snapped and hissed into the dancing flame. Imoen treated the rest of the meat and wrapped it in clean leaves before stuffing them into her backpack. Imoen watched the cooking haunch while Bain re-filled their only waterskin from a nearby brook. The siblings eagerly devoured the roast boar when it was done, washing it down with cool water.

Jaheira returned with handfuls of blueberries. She shared them with her companions, even Imoen reluctantly ate a few. The trio sat around the fire, staring into the bright flames, Imoen leaning against her brother's muscled right arm.

"Do you know anything about this ancient city that Sarevok is looking for?" inquired Bain after a long silence.

"I know what I overheard from him and Xzar, his pet wizard," replied Jaheira.

Bain and Imoen's gazes urged the half-elf to continue. Jaheira lowered her almond-shaped gray eyes to watch the fire before she spoke further.

"The city was called Benerel Aul Harsan, an Elvish name which translates into Common as 'City of Blood'. When the Elvish dominion was at its peak, Benerel was a city of warriors. The Elves perfected the arts of war and forged weapons of horrible power to fight the orcs, ogres, and evil dragons that plagued the Elven realms. The Sword of Blood was the last great weapon to be forged in Benerel, it is said that the sword could drain its victim of life and grant that power to the wielder. Whoever wields the Sword of Blood is practically unkillable."

"It makes sense that Sarevok would want a weapon like that," said Imoen.

"With the Sword of Blood combined with his own divine power, Sarevok can become the warlord that he dreams to be, no one will be able to oppose him," sighed Jaheira.

"Does Sarevok know the precise location of the sword in Benerel?" asked Bain, adding another branch to the fire.

"No. Xzar can somehow sense where the sword is, but even he couldn't give a precise location. The wizard claimed that the sword sang to him."

"He sounds insane," remarked Imoen.

"He is," shuddered the half-elf.

Bain wrapped his right arm around Imoen and gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Get some sleep, Imoen, I'll take first watch."

Bain helped Imoen get tucked into their sleeping blankets. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips, Imoen smiled and closed her eyes. Rising, Bain fastened his weapon-belt around his waist and left the camp, Jaheira's glowing eyes upon him.

The warrior walked to the edge of the summit and squatted down. He looked out across the bowl-shaped valley, the dense treetops were cloaked in thick, gray mist, the cries of birds echoed through the cool, night air. The half-elf crouched next to Bain quietly. The warrior glanced at the silent elf woman.

"You should get some sleep, we have a long way to travel tomorrow."

"I don't need sleep, rest is sufficient," replied Jaheira.

"Elves," smiled Bain.

Jaheira looked at Bain and smiled softly. "You look just like your brother, but you're nothing like him."

"Sarevok..looks like me?" frowned Bain.

"His face is harder. I never saw him smile...even when we coupled," admitted Jaheira with a blush.

"Did he rape you?"

"No. I..felt grateful to him when he saved me from a band of orcs. They would have killed me, but he slew them all, like an avatar of Death itself. He was a rough lover, but he never forced me," whispered Jaheira, avoiding Bain's intent gaze.

"Why did you run away?"

"There is a darkness inside him, it makes him cruel, blood-thirsty. I fear if he recovers the Sword of Blood that thirst for death will grow, he'll become a monster." 

"He is a Son of Bhaal, like me," murmured Bain.

Jaheira regarded Bain, then set her hand over his. "You are not like him, you do not let your blood rule you."

Bain smiled but did not reply. Jaheira leaned close to the warrior, she moved her hand to Bain's left thigh. Bain stiffened and looked at Jaheira, her eyes smoldered, her lips parted invitingly.

"Let me thank you properly," whispered Jaheira, her breasts swelling underneath her leather tunic.

Bain inhaled the elf woman's scent, it was like cinnamon and roses, it wafted around his nostrils, teased him, aroused him.

Jaheira's body touched Bain's, her hand was over his crotch, slowly rubbing the leather of his breeches. The elf woman smiled when she felt the man's erection, she began loosening the breeches' drawstrings.

Bain snatched Jaheira's slim wrist and gently pulled her hand away from his crotch. Jaheira looked up at Bain in puzzlement.

"No," murmured Bain firmly.

"Why not?" breathed Jaheira, her brown skin flushed, her breasts heaving.

"I love Imoen," replied Bain simply.

"Your sister?"

"My love," smiled the warrior.

Jaheira jerked away from Bain. She let the night air cool her feverish skin, her heart stopped pounding within her breast. When she had collected herself, the half-elf smiled and met Bain's eyes again. "I was right, you're not like your brother at all."

Bain smiled and nodded. The burly warrior turned to watch the forest once more, Jaheira sat at his side, watching the mist coil over the trees.

***

When the bright morning sun dispelled the veil of mist covering the valley, the companions broke camp and began the descent into the bowl. The slope was gentle and easy to navigate, the group descended to the bottom quickly. Jaheira scouted ahead with Bain and Imoen trailing. The air was warm and fresh with the scents of wood and green things, Bain enjoyed the atmosphere, but kept his hand ready on his sword pommel.

Imoen was the first to remark upon the stone ruins buried beneath moss and forest growth. The shattered walls of stone buildings became more and more frequent as the companions walked deeper into the valley. They walked down avenues lined with broken columns, past pyramid-shaped temples black with thick ash and fire-scorching. Even after hundreds of years, the smell of death lingered in the air, clung to the stone ruins like a dreadful miasma.

"Bain!" screamed Imoen.

Bain spun around and grunted when a crossbow bolt slammed into his left shoulder. The bolt's impact threw Bain off his feet, he fell heavily and struggled to breathe.

Four men in black platemail charged out of foliage-choked alley mouths. The warrior who had shot Bain slung his crossbow and drew a black-steel long sword, he marched toward the fallen man while his comrades subdued the two women.

Unfortunately for the attackers, Imoen and Jaheira were not easy prey. Imoen ducked one fighter's powerful sword slash and stabbed up with a palmed dagger, impaling the man's left eye. The fighter howled until Imoen shoved the blade in deeper, finding her attacker's brain.

Jaheira spoke swiftly in Elvish. The vines entwined around one of the alley mouths snapped forward and trapped one of the armored men. Jaheira slashed the man's throat without hesitation, the warrior slumped within his green bonds.

As Bain's attacker raised his sword to deliver a death blow, Imoen kicked him in the crotch from behind. The man groaned and lowered his sword, Imoen kicked his legs out from underneath him, jumped onto his armored chest, and stabbed her bloody dagger into his throat several times.

Jaheira was helping Bain to sit up as the last warrior fled for his life. Imoen considered throwing her dagger, but his body was too-well armored for a good throw. The rogue girl wiped her dagger on her breeches and sheathed the weapon in her belt.

Bain was grimacing while Jaheira carefully removed the thick, iron bolt. Imoen dropped down next to her brother, she brushed his hot forehead with her fingers.

"It'll close up in a bit," grunted Bain through clenched teeth.

"You're in pain, let me heal you, please," begged Jaheira.

Bain regarded the distraught half-elf, then nodded. Jaheira gently placed her right palm over the ugly wound and closed her eyes. She prayed softly in Elvish, her hand started to glow with a warm, golden light. Bain sighed when the pain disappeared, Jaheira removed her palm, the bolt wound was completely gone.

"Thank you," smiled Bain.

"I'm glad you finally let me help you," grinned Jaheira.

Bain struggled to stand up, Imoen and Jaheira helped him. The warrior walked to one of the dead attackers, he examined the corpse's black, spiked armor.

"Just like the men who attacked us near CandleKeep, Imoen," said Bain gravely. "Just like the men who murdered Gorion."

"Aye," agreed Imoen, joining her brother and hugging his waist.

"Sarevok's soldiers, he must be close," said Jaheira, walking up to Bain's right.

Bain glanced at the ruins around them. "We could search these ruins for days, we need a better idea of where the sword is."

"Let me try something," said Jaheira. The elf woman walked to one of the alley mouths and plucked a wide, green leaf from one of the dangling vines. She crushed the leaf in her right palm, chanting softly in Elvish. Smoke escaped from Jaheira's closed fingers, it coiled upward like a rising snake before fading away. Jaheira opened her gray eyes, she smiled.

"I know where the sword is, follow me," bade the half-elf, walking quickly down the broken, cobble-stone boulevard.

Imoen gave her brother a meaningful gaze. Bain nodded briefly, hugged her, then broke away to follow Jaheira.

*****