Jealous | By : kgemeni Category: A through F > Forgotten Realms Views: 2986 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Forgotten Realms series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter 12
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Two weeks passed with no more than fleeting, teasing comments passed from assassin to drow mercenary. Jarlaxle was puzzled, infuriated, intrigued, impatient...and entertained. He would wait until Artemis' next move in this unexpected game.
That was when the Shard happened.
Before Jarlaxle knew it, the threads he'd worked so hard to bind his two worlds with broke, snapping one after another under the strain of keeping his alliance with Crenshinibon under control. First, it was the unaccustomed feeling of arrogance and pride mixing into recklessness, prompting him to test Crenshinibon's power against Artemis when sparring, urging him to take on the Rakers, because with the Shard, he couldn't be stopped. Then it was the feeling of unaccustomed aggression, causing him to treat Sharlotta, one of his most powerful allies, with disrespect. He no longer listened to her during meetings, and their sexual relationship turned into a mockery of the sensitivity they'd once shown towards each other. After very nearly strangling her in bed, he'd dismissed her, shaken, telling her that she needed to keep away from him. He didn't trust himself. Finally, his struggles with the Crystal Shard became so evident that no one trusted him, and though he began to notice, he was too entrenched in his power struggle to do anything about it.
And then came the news from the Shard that Entreri was coming to attack them, and take the Shard away. Jarlaxle saw this event with two minds. One part of him was so deeply entwined in Crenshinibon's will that he resented the very notion that someone would try to take the Shard away from him. The other part of his mind was afraid. Artemis Entreri was not known for his mercy - he was known by his wire-thin lines between friendship and betrayal. What Jarlaxle had done might have been construed by the assassin as betrayal...in which case, Artemis' arrival could mean nothing good. Jarlaxle's heart sank. Either way, he would be forced to fight.
Then, before his eyes, Artemis Entreri snatched him from the jaws of death.
Sweat rolled down Jarlaxle's back as they rode through the dunes on their stolen horses. Suspicions warred in his mind. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded for the third time. Artemis, gravely wounded, was not in a speaking mood.
"You are a fool," Artemis growled through clenched teeth. One hand was over his wound, the other holding onto the reins of his horse.
"If you believed that, you would have left me behind for Kimmuriel and Rai-Guy," Jarlaxle retorted.
"Maybe I pity fools. Maybe...I pity you." Artemis suppressed a grunt of pain.
"You know as well as I do that drow are disinclined to live off of pity." Jarlaxle narrowed his eyes at the assassin. He'd never been more confused, and Artemis' words weren't helping.
"Then die. But if you do...don't do it that way. Not because some artifact took advantage of you. Die because of your own mistakes."
"Is that not my own mistake?" Jarlaxle asked.
Artemis gritted his teeth and saved his energy, offering no more replies.
When they stopped an hour later, Artemis was looking pale and weak. The act of dismounting drove him to his knees, and he straightneed only with great difficulty. It took him even more willpower to turn and retrieve his backpack.
Concerned despite himself, Jarlaxle came over to him. "What are you looking for?"
"Potion." Sweat was rolling down the side of Artemis' face.
Jarlaxle seacrhed the contents of the backpack until he came up with a small vial. "Healing?"
Artemis nodded and reached for it.
Jarlaxle held it out of reach. "You have a lot to answer for before I feel safe in restoring your health. You came and attacked me. It was not the other way around."
Artemis' response was to show Jarlaxle the hand he'd been pressing against the wound in his side. It was covered in blood. "A fine throw."
Jarlaxle silently cursed this emotional blackmail and handed over the potion.
Artemis drank it in one swift motion and sat back, breathing heavily. "My thanks."
Jarlaxle scowled. Then he looked up at the sky and pointed. "The sun will make for our deaths."
Artemis shook his head. "Not...so." His breathing came in gasps, but color was returning to his face. He reached into his backpack and took out a tiny model of a brown tent. He forced himself to his feet and tossed it to the ground. "Grow," he whispered.
It grew. When it reached a size great enough to accodate both them and their horses comfortably, he bade it to stop.
Jarlaxle looked at it appraisingly. "Impressive. But how are we going to hide if and when my murderous lieutenants decide to spy on us? This will be easy enough to spot, I think."
Artemis shook his head again and smirked wanly. "Not so easy as you might think. It retreats into a pocket dimension after its owners are inside."
Jarlaxle turned to him. "Then you expected this to happen."
Artemis didn't smile back. He only looked at the tent. "No. I hoped this would happen."
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Footnote: I'm sure no one will mind this similar retelling of what happens in Servant of the Shard.
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