Ire's Ire: Mamnen Alive

Mamnen gasped and sputtered, eyes wide and drinking in a bright blue sky above him, evident that he was back on Faerun. He ran his hands wildly across his chest, gasping audibly instead of breathing–breath not catching because of his obvious panic–and closing his eyes taking in his last experience.
 
“How did she defeat you?” Ire’s dual-corded voice was more of a low growl.
 
“Baator is– Is–”
 
“I know. You’re out now, and I won’t ask you a third time: How did she defeat you?!” Ire erupted . Mamnen flinched at his uncle’s forcefulness, and gently fluttered his own eyes open to look into his face, feeling meek for the first time in a long time.
 
Baator had been awful. The screams, the wind seeming carry thousands of them for miles, there was torture, creatures he’d never seen–most violent–and he had been truly alone.
 
“She didn’t,” Mamnen whispered. “I think I may have been ambushed.”
 
Ire’s beady little eyes widened, making the pupils seem to shrink. “She dared to ambush the mighty Mamnen? She broke your covenant?!”
 
“Y-yes. I remember now,” Mamnen sat up and felt his back, feeling no pain but finding his tunic in tatters. “She didn’t come alone–”
 
Ire stood straight, looked to the sky, and belted out an outraged yell, shaking the ground and scaring birds and others around to take flight away. Mamnen looked at him curiously and drew his knees to his chest, resting his forearms on them.
 
“Uncle, I will make this right.”
 
“This is exactly why I wanted your detachment from her, Mamnen. You couldn’t see that she is like her fucking mother–”
 
“Mother betrayed you,” Mamnen determined. “How?”
 
“Jone Mennith is naturally deceptive and managed to convince me that in getting out of Baator, she and I would both be benefitted. She would add to my soul pool, I would add to my soul pool, and she would get her freedom. But one day the innocent souls stopped filtering in and she cast a protection around herself to guard her from my finding her physically or in dreams.” He was getting more and more escalated as he recounted this, Mamnen noticed. Ire’s fisted hands were at his waist. “Jone Mennith found out she was pregnant and must have ‘fallen in love’ because that was around that time. It took me almost eleven years to track that fucker down.”
 
Mamnen sat piecing it all together, not wanting to further question the devil. His mother had contracted her freedom in exchange for souls and the potential of her future children, changed her mind part way through, and vanished. If that simple act of soul collection stopping enraged him, what would he have done if she had attempted or accomplished what Atka had done to Mamnen? He knew from his reading what Ire was capable of unprovoked, as most of the examples in the books were tales about his play, but he couldn’t help but to wonder just what else his uncle could do…?
 
“I’m sorry she did you dirty, uncle. It sounds like it hurts you.”
 
“Hurts me?” Ire was disarmed and suddenly laughed. “No, it does not hurt me, Mamnen, quarter-nephew. It enrages me. It sends me into a fit, and I cannot be held responsible for what her actions inspire me to do–that is why I hunted her down: the more active I am, the more likely whoever might be looking for me from Baator will take notice.”
 
“Hm. I understand. You think this situation with Atka risks you too–”
 
“Of course it risks me! Mamnen, I had to bring you back from Baator, from the dead! That kind of interference is noticeable–by the Nine Hells and Celestia, for certain.”
 
Mamnen paled. “I was…” he trailed off.
 
“Dead? Yes. You were dead.”
 
Mamnen’s face suddenly hardened to a stone-like, cold visage. “I do not know this woman. Not anymore. Nor will let her and that fucking hidden sword bearer go.”
 
“Just what are you planning to do? Did you even see his face?”
 
“No, just Atka’s. Although, I heard his unmistakable voice. Uncle!” Mamnen pushed off his knees to stand and took a step toward the devil, who did not react to the sudden excitement. “Quickly. Scold me again with that deep, echoing voice of yours.”
 
“What? Are you going mad?”
 
“No, please say something.”
 
Ire gritted and bared his teeth at the young tiefling, hissing, “You disappointed me, Mamnen. I told you not to.”
 
“Yes! That voice was–wait, I did?” Mamnen asked, defensively. Ire waved his concern aside, so Mamnen continued, but was shaken in that he didn’t believe the devil at that moment, “That’s a voice he used I think. Or something very similar… It was low, raspy, and I’m not sure but it felt…familiar. I can’t describe it.”
 
Ire cocked an eyebrow at Mamnen hastily talked about this mysterious slayer of a member of his family, his apprentice. “Hm. I’ve never really thought about influence through familiarity with a voice. You could try–”
 
“No. I got the distinct impression that I should not try to influence the familiarity I was recognizing.”
 
“Why?” Ire crossed his arms. “Afraid of disappointing me? Possibly again?” He was toying with Mamnen now, Mamnen figured. He knew disappointment was not a quality he wanted to share with anyone.
 
“I can’t really say. Other than the fact that just trying to analyze the connection as the…life drained out of me after the twist of the sword…” Both men slowly growled. “...I noticed that it struck a healthy fear in me.”
 
“‘Healthy fear’? What even is that?”
 
“It’s when you know you should heed what it says, Uncle.”
 
“Mortals…” Ire sighed. “Alright, don’t find him by the voice. How do you intend on finding and fixing this? Because I expect retribution, Mamnen. I risk my freedom for you, you owe me something until I determine we’re square.”
 
“You want Atka’s soul. I’ll get you her soul.”
 
“No, I just want her subdued. Taken off my radar. Send her to Heaven, send her to Hell, send her to Fantasy Land–so long as she doesn’t come back.” Ire said definitively. Mamnen paused, having two questions but not wanting to ask. Ire entered his thoughts, stating Just speak.
 
“Two things: what has she done to you personally to make you react this way, and also how can I ensure she doesn’t come back when I can plainly see that I came back?”
 
Ire grinned and held up two fingers, one on each of his huge hands. “To answer the first, I will just say, she has continuously disappointed me and now I am not amused.” Mamnen frowned, drawing a similar link between Ire’s disappointment and Ire’s own wrath. He did not want to fall onto Atka’s bench in his eyes. “And to answer your second question, if there’s no one around to care about her leaving, no one will bring her back.”
 
Mamnen inhaled sharply, quietly, hoping that Ire didn’t hear the surprise in the small gasp. “Those are the souls you want? You mean to say, anyone who might bring her back?”
 
Ire grinned horn-to-horn, that grin that comforted Mamnen most days into thinking he had been doing something right, that he’d been making progress, that he’d been getting somewhere. “I wasn’t going to ask for the souls, but since you offered so nicely. Yes, fetch those for me and we’ll call ourselves square.”
 
“What?”
 
“You kill, banish, subdue At-ka. You hunt down and collect the souls of all who may try to undo it. Do those three things for me, and I will consider us even for risking my freedom with this ambush debacle.”
 
Mamnen didn’t like the implication that he had done it on purpose, but his devil uncle was right in that because of ignorant inaction, that sneaky twin of his and her compatriot had gotten the better of him, forcing Ire’s hand. “Alright, consider this a covenant, uncle. I will ensure that Atka–and anyone she’s ever associated with–are ended…only…”
 
“Only what?”
 
“I don’t know how to trap souls and give them to you.”
 
“Small potatoes. Let me show you something…”