Baldur's Gate (30 page)

Abdel didn’t know any spells and had no tricks up his sleeve. If he was going to kill Sarevok—and he was determined to do just that—he would have to hack him to death. When he came at Sarevok again, Abdel got the feeling his brother was surprised that he’d survived the burning spell. Abdel took advantage of the half-second’s hesitation and slashed strong and hard at Sarevok’s neck, hoping to end the fight quickly and decisively.

Sarevok’s hands found his floating sword, and he turned into Abdel’s attack. Abdel braced himself for the force of the two blades coming together and grunted in surprise and pain when it was their hands, not their blades, that met in the middle. The force of the blow drove one of the half-inch spikes lining Sarevok’s gauntlets into the back of Abdel’s left hand, then ripped through skin and bone as the attack followed through.

Both Abdel’s and Sarevok’s swords flew into the dense air of the battle-filled chamber. Sarevok swore and took several steps back, sparing a glance up at his tumbling sword. He held out a hand to catch it, and Abdel was about to do the same, when, without really making the conscious decision to do it, he flung himself at his brother and hit him, body to body with force sufficient to drop a rothe.

Abdel could hear Sarevok’s breath punch out of him, and they hit the floor together. Sarevok almost seemed like he wanted to fall on his back. He spun Abdel up and over himself in a single fluid motion that launched the big sellsword into the air. Sarevok’s sword hit the flagstones several paces to his right, at the feet of a Flaming Fist footman who was watching the two brothers’ fight in wide-eyed horror.

Abdel’s hand found the pommel of his own sword after it had bounced once on the flagstones with an alarming clang, but before he hit the ground. He landed on his knees and brought the sword up in time to block a hard, fast punch from a still rolling Sarevok.

Abdel stood and, panting, sword in front of him and ready for anything, slid two steps away from his brother, who did the same.

Sarevok glanced to the side and ran at the footman, who met the charge with a frozen, terrified stare. Abdel screamed at him to run, but the man just stood there. Sarevok scooped his sword up from the ground and spilled the footman’s guts in a single motion and was already coming back at Abdel before the soldier’s body hit the ground.

Abdel recognized many of his own instincts in the way Sarevok fought. The thought that they’d both inherited common traits from their infernal sire unnerved Abdel enough that Sarevok had the opportunity to cut the tip of his right ear off. The pain was like a splash of searing hot water in Abdel’s face, and it was as effective as cold water in snapping Abdel back into the fight. He answered Sarevok’s cut with a flurry of slashing attacks—across, back, up, down, across, and back again—and Sarevok took a defensive step backward.

It went on like that for what seemed to Abdel to be the rest of his life. He never felt tired, was past exhaustion—he was fighting for his life, and it wasn’t in him to let himself waver in the slightest in order to rest. That would be as alien to him now as the thought of letting Sarevok live would be. Abdel pressed again, and Sarevok fought back out of desperation, but Abdel never connected. Sarevok got in another lucky cut, but it was superficial, most of its force spent on Abdel’s blood-spattered chain mail.

The sound of the melee around them started to diminish, but neither Abdel nor Sarevok took notice. There was a flash of blue-white light from somewhere, the impossible sound of a thunderclap, and the smell of ozone, then a chorus of screams. Abdel had to sidestep quickly to avoid treading on a severed head that rolled into his path.

“Kill me!” Sarevok screamed. “Kill me if you can, brother! One more death in the glory of our father, who shall rise again on the blood of the murdered!”

“No!” a voice from behind Abdel screamed.

It was Angelo. Abdel saw a man in the tabard of the Flaming Fist, who had begun to advance, hesitate, looking back at Angelo. The duke knew. He understood it was between the brothers now.

Abdel knew the Iron Throne had been defeated, the war avoided—the war that never seemed like a war, won. That gave him the strength he needed—just that little bit of strength—and his next blow came in not too hard for Sarevok, but too hard for his brother’s blade.

Sarevok’s sword burst into shards of glittering black steel, and Abdel didn’t waste a heartbeat. He brought his foot up high into his half brother’s chest and stomped him down like a bug. Sarevok bounced when he hit the floor, his armor clattering in protest. As he came down on top of Sarevok, Abdel spun his broadsword in his right hand and reversed the blade, so he was stabbing down with it. The tip of the blade plunged through Sarevok’s armor. Abdel twisted it up to gouge the man’s neck and almost punctured the skin before he hesitated, sweating, panting, bleeding. All the anger, and all the emotion, and all the regret, and all the uncertainty rushed out of Abdel in a torrent.

“You may not have accepted our father’s gift, brother, but there are others—like me—who are willing.”

“I will find them too then, brother” Abdel spat, making that promise in the memory of Jaheira.

“And murder them?” Sarevok asked, the yellow light already fading from his eyes, as if in anticipation of death.

“Like you’ll murder me now? Enough deaths, and Bhaal will be reborn. I won’t bring him back with my war, but maybe you will with yours. Our father’s blood runs true in your veins.”

“Yes,” Abdel said softly, “just this once more.” He leaned all his weight onto the blade and held it down until Sarevok was dead.

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About the Author

An evil genius bent on world domination, Philip Athans enjoys spending time with his family, playing miniatures war games, watching airplanes fly around, trying to dominate the world through one nefarious scheme after another, and at least thirty-seven other things. He is the author of everything he’s ever written, including this book. Not having had much luck at dominating the world, he is now just pretty much obsessed with destroying Captain ImpressiveŽ and the rest of the Super Crew™ once and for all!