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Baldur's gate II_ throne of Bhaal - Drew Karpyshyn [77]

By Root 2406 0
Their partly extended arms still held the lanterns, their unresponsive fingers still wrapped tightly around the handle. Soon the poison-a derivative of the drow sleeping poison that Sendai had devised herself-would work its way to their heart and lungs. The muscles pumping blood and oxygen through the monks' bodies would seize up, become as rigid as the other muscles in their motionless forms. The guards would slowly suffocate where they stood, unable to call for help, unable to even collapse in a heap once they died. Sendai knew from previous experience that the frozen fingers of their corpses would have to be broken off to make them release their grip on the lanterns. Either that, or the lanterns could be buried with them.

The macabre thought brought a slight smile to Sendai's face, and she slipped silently up the stairs to complete her mission. As she had suspected, Sendai found no guards inside the tower. The lower level was deserted.

Without a sound, dagger drawn, the drow assassin crept to the chamber at the top of the stairs. The doors were all closed, the hallway dark and empty, except for one of the heavy portals. The soft light of a burning torch seeped out from underneath.

Sendai approached the door and listened, her keen ears picking up the distinctive sound of a young woman's soft breath. With a touch so delicate as to be almost imagined, Sendai gently opened the door.

The orange glow of the flickering torch forced the dark elf to avert her eyes, but not before she noticed the young woman resting on the sleeping mat in the center of the room. Shielding her eyes against the firelight, Sendai slipped across the room and extinguished the torch. The darkness was absolute.

* * * * *

Imoen woke with a start, her breath escaping in a terrified gasp. She was surrounded by darkness, and beneath her she felt only a cold, unyielding surface. She had half scrambled to her feet before she remembered where she was, safe in the meditation rooms of the Amkethran monastery. The faintly burning torch must have gone out when she had drifted off to sleep.

The young woman tried to laugh off her momentary panic, but she could only muster a half-hearted, nervous giggle. She had been having a nightmare. That much she remembered. The exact nature of the dream, however, she couldn't recall.

"Fire," she whispered to herself. Most of her nightmares were of fire, the devouring flames of her unholy, immortal father. She wondered if Abdel ever dreamed of such a blaze.

She shook her head to dispel such gloomy musings and tried to get her bearings in the absolute darkness of the room. She took her best guess at the direction of the torch, then took a single hesitant step. Imoen froze.

Someone was in the room with her. Imoen didn't hear anything, there was nothing to hear. She felt someone watching her with great interest. She could feel the heat of her gaze, she could sense the lusting in her eyes. For a brief second her mind conjured up an image of Brothers Regund and Lysus, standing motionless in the dark and leering at her as she stumbled unawares around the room.

"Who's there?" she whispered, as if she could dispel the intruder with her soft words.

"Do not be afraid," a husky female voice whispered. "You will feel no pain."

"Melissan?" Imoen asked, knowing full well the tall woman was not the speaker.

The invisible intruder laughed gently. "No, my pretty Bhaalspawn. She is conveniently absent."

Imoen understood. "You are one of the Five." There was no fear in her voice, no anger. Only weary acceptance. She had not expected it to end like this, but she was ready to face whatever destiny fate held in store.

"I am Sendai," the voice purred, drawing closer.

Imoen hesitated a heartbeat, her fingers stealthily wrapping themselves around the hilt of the dagger tucked into her belt. She could try to scream, but what would that accomplish? Even if anyone heard her through the thick stone walls of the room, could they get here in time to save her? No, Imoen decided as she slowly drew her knife. She was on her own. Melissan would

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