by Филип Этанс
"Abdel!" Jaheira screamed.
Ellesime and Imoen screamed, "Abdel!" together.
"Abdel!" Jaheira screamed. "Abdel!"
* * *
"Abdel!" Imoen screamed, and Abdel drew his soul around him in response.
"Abdel!" came another voice—Ellesime. It was Ellesime, then Jaheira again, then combinations of Imoen, Ellesime, and Jaheira. He sent the pieces of his soul up toward them—was it up? It had to be up.
"I'm down here, Abdel Adrian," Irenicus growled. "And so are you. You don't go back. There's no going back."
Abdel focused on Jaheira's voice, and on Imoen's and Ellesime's. He sent his soul reaching up, and his human hands followed. His human eyes turned up out of the orange and toward the bedrock above.
"No!" Irenicus screamed sharply, and the scream took a piece of Abdel's soul away with it, but it was a small piece.
"You look at me!" Irenicus shrieked. "You fight me!"
Abdel could feel the desperation surge through Irenicus. The tide shifted that quickly. Abdel had somewhere to go. He had a real future, not the illusion of Irenicus's gloried immortality as master of a single vampire and a madhouse on an island no one had bothered to name.
If all Abdel could look forward to was nothing but nights with Jaheira in his arms, that was more than Irenicus had to look forward to in any number of millennia to come.
"Abdel, I'm here," Jaheira's voice said, and Abdel could feel it now as a point in space above him. He reached up, but it was too far.
"Face me!" Irenicus practically begged. "Fight!"
That was all the necromancer had. He depended on nothing but Abdel's need to fight, the fact that that was all Abdel could do: fight.
Instead, Abdel stepped on Irenicus—figuratively if not literally. Abdel felt as if he had feet, but did he? He might have been in a place where feet were irrelevant.
Still, he stepped on Irenicus, and that sent the necromancer spinning into a mass of incoherent ranting.
Screaming obscenities and threats, Irenicus slipped farther down into the pit, and Abdel didn't care either way. He was getting out. He was starting his life—with no answers, but then, who had answers?
Abdel reached up and felt a hand touch his. The skin was smooth and warm and familiar. Irenicus's raving fell away into an echoing silence, and Abdel's face filled with dirt. It was in his eyes, in his nose, in his ears, and in his mouth.
He coughed and felt his head return to some kind of solid reality. He could feel his body again. He could move again. He was real and alive again, and when his face came out of the ground, he coughed out dirt, shook it out of his eyes, and pulled in a deep, shuddering breath.
"Abdel. ." Jaheira's voice sounded rough, raw, but closer now and real, not a distant echo from Faerun to Hell.
"Jaheira," he said into her face, which was only inches from his own.
Jaheira touched him. She was crying, but she was happy. Imoen was there, wherever there was, and so was Ellesime. He looked around and saw a tree bigger than any tree he'd ever imagined. The tree was blackened, but the black was falling off in clumps to reveal healthy bark beneath. Brilliant green leaves grew, and as the Tree of Life surged back to life, Abdel was sure he could hear Jon Irenicus screaming.
"Abdel," Jaheira said, "you're alive."
He looked at her, smiled, and said, "I want to go home." He glanced at Imoen. "To Candlekeep."
FB2 document info
Document ID: 866a0661-151c-4cbd-8a34-1e691947fcd3
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23 October 2008
Created using: FB Editor v2.0 software
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