CHAPTER 5

The Struggle and Rescue

          “Please… I can’t take this anymore…” the young captive whimpered and yelped as the heat of the magical pain was blasted on the surface of the skin, leaving a raw rash.  There was little blood shed from some of the small but extreme wounds, however it left a gruesome decoration on the poor girl.  She could hear the cruel laugh of her captor as she was inflicted with more blows from Illinea’s torture magics.

            “Oh but why should I?  You are nothing more than an empty husk.”, Illinea replied.  “You are weak.  You do not even take what is rightfully yours and you expect that it will all end just because you wish it?  You are even more foolish than I had expected.”  As to add further to the insult, she added to the infliction, indulging to Imoen’s sobs and pleas to stop.

            The young mage could only whisper a word that gave her a bit more strength for the ongoing onslaught of cruelty.

            “Locke…”

~~~

            A slight chill when up to the spine leaving an aura of suspenseful malice that enveloped his entire body.  His whole instinct went to the extreme as if there was something threatening in the dark beyond.  All he could feel was extreme awareness that something was really wrong but he could not explain why.

“Imoen?”

He though back to the times that he had with his sister.  But he had sworn a long time that he would never dishonor the one he loved.  After all, she was a good woman and didn’t need his corruption.  She didn’t deserve more disgrace and harm because of him.  Imoen was already safe in Candlekeep with a promising mage career without him intervening; hampering her life.

Or… was she?

            Despite the strange circumstances he knew what he had to do.  He was a bit reluctant to delay his investigation when he had came so close to truth; the real reason of what was plaguing the Realms.  However, this ill omen had asserted him that there were other things that required his attention.  The only thing he could trust on was his instincts to guide him to his next destination. 

At least he could help her one last time.

~~~

            “Why… why… are doing this?”, the captured mage dared to ask when she recovered a small break from the torture and still determined to find out why she was deserving of this punishment.

            “Now THAT is a good question,” the replica torturer mocked with amusement as she increased the intensity of her lightening razors that struck the body of her intended and left read welts.  She relished hearing her cry out in tears as she was broke bit by bit with every consecutive strike.  “I will tell you a story. There was this stupid mage.  I believe his name was Irenicus.  Yes.  He had a kick out of making clones and torturing them.”

            “You see, there were these two people.  They were Bhaalspawns.  They escaped from the clutches of that stupid mage.  Seeking to replace what he had lost, he made us.  Remember those glass tanks you saw?  Oh yes.  I remember clearly.  I pleaded for escape, while you and your brother cowered away leaving me and Fharadas into the hands of THAT mage.  You could’ve offered us aid, but no, WE had to suffer hell ourselves, going through every ‘experiment’ that ‘He’ had his head on just because he was impatient and didn’t have you two to experiment on.  Oh… I bided my time.  I’ve researched everything.  I too have the Gift, that Taint that you despise so bitterly.  Yet it was wasted on you two.”

            “I’m sorry, but it’s not what you think,” Imoen explained but she was quickly interrupted by a more, intense magical force that stung her body, leaving her to whimper to lessen the strain.

“Silence!  Did I say I was done?  Good.  When our ‘Master” was destroyed, we were free, but with a price.  I worked to master my power, as it has served me well.  But Fharadas… my dear Fharadas was weak.  He was incomplete.  We were both incomplete.  We had no souls.  Determined I was to slow the decaying process, using the magical knowledge I have learned from Irenicus’ documents as well as embracing my powers.  I continued my research only to find out Fharadas’ flaw.  He had none of the Taint; my love was nothing but a shell.  With no spark of life he had a short lifespan.  To make him complete, I experimented with clones, focusing my magic to give him power.  Although I live a full life, Fharadas was nothing more than an incomplete failure, living a short week, sometimes a month if I was lucky.  This is now where you and your brother come in.”

“My brother?  Locke?  What are you going to do with him?”

“He will become my Fharadas.  Didn’t you say you didn’t love him like that?  You didn’t LOVE him as a man?  He has no need for that since you’ve abandoned him.  I can no longer do more for Fharadas.  He is nothing more than an overproduced product that whittles away in quality.  Even though his power is immense now, he will surely die in months, leaving me to repeat the cycle again.  Let me tell you, you spoiled brat.  Do you know how straining and depressing it is to see your loved one die again and again?  Do you know how angry you feel when your other selves enjoy life and frolic while you suffer cruelly under the unawareness of the entire world!  If you don’t need your brother, then why not let me take him from your hands?”

“NO, I won’t let you take him!”

Oh, so you do admit that you have some feelings for him!  That is too late now, for it is MY turn to make a name for, to hear my name be heard throughout the Realms as the most powerful!  I shall gladly take the Throne to make the world suffer for its cruelty.  You know not what the Gift gives you.  You and your fear of the ‘Tainted’ blood; if this was such a curse to you, then it is a boon to I.  Did you see not the men and creatures I have at my command?  When I have the power to crush down the walls of Baldur’s Gate and take the crown for myself; it is truly a wonderful gift.  But what will be truly wonderful, is to take your life for my own.”

“My… my soul?  You can’t have it!  My… my brother shall stop you!”

“No, your brother shall not stop me.  In fact, he shall join me.  He shall love me.  He shall SERVE ME.”

“No… he wouldn’t”, Imoen sobbed at her helplessness.  She couldn’t help but feel some truth to her words.

“And now, you will give me your soul.”

As Imoen could hear the sorceress’ chanting, she began to feel light, and her eyelids were getting heavier with each second spent.  No matter how hard she tried to resist, in a bright flash of light, all of her consciousness was abandoned in favor of the darkness.

~~~

As soon as she regained her conscious, the first this she saw was the area of the Candlekeep Fortress.  But it was beyond the same old Keep that she knew; it was a decayed, a wrecked version of the fortress of knowledge.  The walls were as if time and war had marred their sturdy structure with cracks and holes.  The buildings were as cracked as the wall and the structure of the Keep itself was marred with whittled decay of stone.  The image of the ruins brought feelings of desolation and loneliness.

As Imoen looked around to confirm her surroundings, she heard a familiar voice she had not heard in three years.

“Hey Imoen!”  She turned and saw what surprised her.  It was Locke!

With newfound glee and gusto the young mage raced towards and gave him a big hug as if she hadn’t seen him in a long time.  She was so glad to reunite with her brother for surely he would drive away the pain she had suffered.

“It’s been a long time brother!  But… what are you doing here?”

Locke looked at her face with a smile.  However, Imoen noticed something strange in his eyes; and his smile didn’t look it was filled with happiness.  In fact, it seemed more than a smirk.  “I’m here to give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“What do you mean Locke?”

“This.”

Imoen unexpectedly was then forced down on the ground while being ambush by the fierce kissed on the mouth by her own brother?  She sensed that there was something wrong and pleaded to stop.

“Stop, Locke… stop!  This is wrong.”

However, that only earned her slap.  She was shocked as she covered her left cheek where her brother slapped her.

“Locke?”

“Shut up incestuous bitch!  I know this is what you want, isn’t it?”, snapped Locke as he perversely tried fondle her as she tried to move his hands away.

“Stop, stop it right now!  It’s not funny!”

Again she earned herself another slap but harder than the first.  Her eyes were filled with tears at the response of Locke’s treachery.

“No…”, Imoen sobbed as she struck with another slap.

“Isn’t this what you want?  Isn’t this what you want from your DEAR brother,” mocked Locke as he prepared to tear off his victim’s clothing.  “I’m going to MAKE you like it!”

As piece by piece he shredded her dress, Imoen’s desperate cries grew louder and louder.  Only after a short while she stopped her resistance because she had a feeling that nobody hearing her.

Nobody to help her.

Nobody.

As Locke went lower… he was suddenly struck out of the way by some figure.  The girl looked up to her rescuer.  He was covered with armor, the same that her brother still used to wear in their journeys, and covered with the black cloak that she recognized easily.  As her benefactor turned his head, it revealed to be none other then…

“Locke,” Imoen whispered to acknowledge what she was seeing.

The armored Locke unhooked his cloak and intimately wrapped it around her to cover her self.  When he was done, he looked straight into her eyes and said the only word…

“Fight.”

Locke then picked up his greatsword and met with the other Locke, who was now armored with Fharadas’ armor.  After acknowledging their duel, they fought ferociously with rage and skill.  Both of them were equals in combat; every swing and strike was countered with skillful parry.  Imoen was confused between the two Locke figures battling.  As she touched the cloak, she felt that familiar warmth she used to know.  However, her reminiscing was interrupted as she saw her true brother thrust onto the ground, signaling his defeat.

The Locke whom she now knew he was not her brother yelled out in great victory.

“You are weak for I AM the true LOCKE, for he shows no mercy!  My prize shall be the soul of Imoen, for she is mine!  Come to me Imoen!  Only I shall guide you to your true destiny, and give you what you want!”

Imoen helped her fallen brother.  She placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling happily as she did when they were together.  She looked at the other Locke and gave a determined look.

“I am not yours!  I will fight till you are defeated and no more!  You are not my brother!”

“I am giving you your true desires yet you deny me?  Fight me in your own mind?  Truly you must be mad!  I am Locke!”

But both brother and sister stood together, united in spirit and harmony.  Together they charged while yelling out their battlecries.

“I FIGHT!”

~~~

            Imoen suddenly woke up but was panting heavily as if she was tired from fighting a strenuous battle.  As she look up, she saw her captor in rage.

“You dare resist me?  Could it be that you are more powerful than me?  No… that is foul, that is false!  I am the true one!  I AM IMOEN!”

“Face it hog-bitch,” Imoen retorted with a smirk in her face.  “I’m just that good.”

“Shut up and suffer!”

Pain wracked all over the mage’s body and soul as she wriggled in torture.  But she refused to give in, biting her lips to prevent herself from breaking and screaming.  At least if she died, she would die with a fight.

Suddenly, the chamber door burst open in full force, enough to send the door flying across the chamber.  Out came a figure of a man.  He wore no helmet, so face was visible to all.  As Imoen took lone long look, the face revealed itself to be Locke.  He looked as if he had gone through a war.  His cloth and cloak were damaged, and his armor suffered a lot of cracks and burns.  There was some blood on his face, and his famous Greatsword was covered with the blood of the slain.

“You!,” declared the fighter.  “I have fought through hall and hell to finally confront the master or I might say mistress of this dark conspiracy.  I demand… Imoen?”

Suddenly he was faced with two faces of Imoen, one in a gown and one chained to the wall.  This was surely an illusion.  He could only sum up that his real sister was the one chained.  He guessed that his instinct was proven correct overall.  She was in trouble.

“Free my sister and you shall have mercy!”, demanded the mage’s brother as he threatened the sorceress with his blade.  Suddenly, he felt his mind go blank.  His feet could not move; there was no longer feeling left in his movements.  There was only… calmness.

“Locke… it’s me.  It’s Imoen,” called out Illinea.  Be damned if the false one was successful in resisting her spell.  The only way to truly break her was to gain Locke’s soul.  So far, her powers have not failed.

“Imoen… Imoen… is that… you?” questioned Locke as he slowly went near Lady Illinea.  The sorceress embraced him and kissed him passionately on the lips, whispering words of passion in his ear.  “Yes,” Illinea thought victoriously.  “It’s working!  My powers have not failed!”

“No Locke,” Imoen desperately yelled as if it depended on her life.  “Locke you know who’s your real sister!  Fight it!  Fight it as you had with me!  Together Locke!  Together!”

“Silence false one.  There is nothing but Locke and Imoen.”

“No… fight it!  Please Locke…”

It seemed that her brother was totally succumbed to the temptations of the Lady, but in unexpected turn, he pushed her away, shook his head to clear his mind, and grabbed his weapon fully.

“Don’t tempt me with your foul words!  Imoen doesn’t have cold eyes like yours!”

Illinea, now offended by the rejection raised her arms to strike at the one who insulted her with her powerful magics.  Before she could cast her spell the fighter charged and struck the sorceress down with one fatal blow.  He went near her as she now choking in pain and dying from his attack.

“I…I… I was so… I wanted you… You were supposed to be mine.“

“No,” answered Locke.  “I was never yours.”

Illinea looked at her original and then back at Locke.  His rage was gone now, replaced with pity and calmness.  She saw his eyes; they were sea blue… so beautiful.  No wonder why Imoen was so taken with him.  She could even see the depths of his emotions.

As Locke went over to free Imoen, he was grabbed by the leg.  He looked down to see the dying Lady struggle to say something.

“I…I want your … forgiveness,” pleaded Illinea.  “Tell Fharadas that …. That I’m sorry… I… I should’ve… left him… to sleep eternally... than die a thousand deaths…”  She looked over to Imoen.  “I… I want your forgiveness too.  I’m … I’m… sorry for my actions… don’t let this opportunity… pass by… I…,” the Lady took her final breath and died.

~~~

Imoen was near the campfire, keeping warm while her brother whispered a few prayers to the makeshift grave of Lady Illinea.  As soon as he was finished he sat down near his sister to join her near the fire.

Before Imoen could say anything, Locke chose the first initiative. 

“I’m sorry that it took long to rescue you.”

His sister gave a smile.  “Don’t worry.  I was glad that you did,”

There was a long pause until Imoen decided to interrupt the silence before it drove her mad.  “So, long time no see!  How are ya Locke?  Tell me what you’ve done in your travels!  C’mon, no SECRETS!”

Her brother gave a chuckle and gave a failing but humorous attempt of telling his story like as if it was some epic journey that he traversed with huge tall tales of enormous monsters and how he defeated them in battle, with his sister giggling madly.  However, his tone transformed into a serious one when he started telling her of his ongoing investigations about the new bandit activity.

“I didn’t know you were in the heart of the cartel Imoen.  I’ve discovered clues and drawn out conclusions based on the information I’ve gotten from sources.  When I have finally discovered that there was a hidden base of operations, I started prepare for any combat I would confront along the way.  The Tower was guarded by magical creatures that gave me a intense challenge, as well as the treacherous halls seeking to trap me into death.  Luckily, I remembered all the trap stuff you’ve taught me Imoen.”

“Yup!  That’s me!”, Imoen pronounced proudly to take credit for Locke’s claims.

“As always Imoen.”

The mage hugged her brother tightly with so much affection.  Locke wanted to say something that he was not worthy of her affection but kept his mouth shut.  Better to let his sister enjoy the good times than bother with… that.  Besides, it was his fault anyway.

However, he was shocked when Imoen asked him the question that he never though of hearing from her lips.

“Locke… do you love me?”

“I…,” the fighter was put into a deadlock here.  Here he was contemplating on how he could deal with his feelings towards Imoen.  He still loved her; but it was beyond the love than that of a brother and sister.  It was something that he was ashamed of, and here he was, trying to give an answer to the most difficult question.

No, he could not risk having his sister to be further disgusted of him.  So he chose the safest path.

“I love you like a brother loves a sister.”  It was a lie.  A painful lie.

There was no answer but another question from Imoen.  “You’ll never hurt me, right Locke?”

“No.  I will never hurt you,” answered Locke with fervent belief.  “I would rather put myself through pain than harming you.  I would rather be condemned to the nine planes of hell than ever put you through harm.  You are important to me.  To see you in pain gives me pain and the anger of the knowledge that you are harmed in both soul and body.”  He looked straight into her eyes.  “I would do anything; even give my life to relinquish your pain.”

His sister looked straight up to him and gave the most pleasant smile that he had ever seen in his entire three years without her at his side.  He wished he could sink further in that smile, to kiss deep into those beautiful lips, his vision surround with her heavenly face.

But he couldn’t do that.  Instead he returned the smile and hugged her.

Imoen wasn’t through with just a hug.  She kept holding on to Locke as if he was the dearest thing in life and laid her head on his lap.  She felt so good when she was near him; his warmth giving her sweet feelings that melted into every fiber of her body.  She finally knew what was really true.

The girl whispered as she fell to pleasant sleep.  “I now know what to believe in.”

All Locke did was rubbing her head softly as she went to sleep.  “Sweet dreams, Imoen.”

But inside her thoughts as she went deep into her dreams was something she wished to tell her brother.

“I… love you.”

to be continued...

BACK