Baldur's gate II_ throne of Bhaal - Drew Karpyshyn [16]
"There is no point in fighting a ghost."
"Ghost?" Sarevok seemed amused by the word, though his voice reflected no change in its cold monotone. "Yes, I suppose I am a ghost, though not in the common sense of the word. We can help each other, Abdel. We each have something the other needs."
Now it was Abdel's turn to laugh-a harsh, bitter sound. "I will never help you, Sarevok. You can offer me nothing I might need."
"Rash as ever, Abdel, that is the fire of our father burning within you. Unlike you, my brother, I am no longer consumed by the flames of hate and bloodlust. You purged me of Bhaal's taint. For that, I thank you."
Uncertain of how to react to the unexpected, though somewhat emotionless, gratitude of the man he had killed, Abdel remained silent.
"Do not dismiss my offer out of passion and recklessness, Abdel. I have information you need. And in the end, I assure you, my offer will benefit you much more than it will me."
"Information?" Abdel asked, his curiosity piqued. "What kind of information?"
"How you may escape this dead world of our father, for one thing. But there is more, Abdel, much more."
Abdel scowled, knowing Sarevok had made a point he could not easily dismiss. Abdel had no idea how he had come to this gray, empty plane. He had no clue how to return to Jaheira and Imoen in the mortal world. Part of him was still leery about striking a bargain with this mortal enemy from his past.
"And what do you need of me?" Abdel asked.
Sarevok took a half step forward. The metal plates of his armor shrieked as he brought his arms up. Instinctively, Abdel brought his sword into a defensive position and dropped into a fighting crouch.
Sarevok mimicked the movement, stiffly dropping to one knee, his arms still outstretched, the palms facing upward. It took a second before Abdel realized his half brother wasn't taking an aggressive stance- he was making an offer of supplication. Sarevok was begging him.
"I need you, Abdel Adrian," the big man implored, "to restore me to life."
The words struck Abdel like a stiff slap. His massive head snapped back in shock. The request was ludicrous, offensive.
"Never!" he shouted. "You are a monster, Sarevok. A creature of pure death and evil. Only a fool would restore you to life so you could resume your slaughtering."
"Please, Abdel," Sarevok replied without any noticeable change in the inflection of his voice, though his arms were still outstretched in a pathetic effort to win sympathy from the half brother he had so greatly wronged. "I am not the being I was. When you knew me, I had ceased to be a man. I was but a vessel, a conduit for the horror of Bhaal. The taint of our dark father had overwhelmed me. My very identity had been consumed by the inferno of hate, bloodlust, and madness. I was not Sarevok, I was a demon in human form."
"You're lying! You just want to avoid responsibility for all the death and destruction you brought about!"
Sarevok shook his head, rose wearily from his knee and lowered his arms before resuming his pleas in his deep, passionless monotone. "I knew the joy of killing long before Bhaal's taint utterly consumed me," he admitted. "I am, and always will be, an instrument of violence. During all my days, during all my travels, death ever followed in my wake. Yet could not the same be said of you, Abdel Adrian? Were we really so different?"
Abdel took an involuntary step back, physically rejecting Sarevok's accusation. Despite his reaction, Abdel knew Sarevok spoke the truth. Many times the sellsword had felt the blinding fury of his father's essence touch his own soul. Many times he had felt the claws of the Lord of Murder's spirit wrap themselves around his own heart. He understood the eternal struggle to resist the evil within himself, the war to maintain his own identity when he unleashed the rage