You know, this just makes me see Sarevok should have quit while he was ahead. He was on the up and up, had a cute waifu, power, and was lined up to take vengeance on stepdad and then he had to go full super villain.
Dungeons & Dragons Baldur's Gate (Updates Sundays)
- Thread starter The Original Sixth
- Start date
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Who ever quit while he was ahead? The biggest side effect of power is craving for more power and what Sarevok has in his sight is truly a lot of power (he is wrong but he doesn't know that).
The killing of the madman was well written, you escaped the trap that so many fanfiction writers fall into when doing fics based on games and whorigidly follow the combat mechanics.
The killing of the madman was well written, you escaped the trap that so many fanfiction writers fall into when doing fics based on games and whorigidly follow the combat mechanics.
Was that supposed to be ''emaciated man''?
...Mother fucking autocorrect.
Uh, yeah. I'll have to remember to fix that later.
And thank you, I really appreciate that. Avoiding game mechanics is hard in a story like this, simply because of how incorporated they are to the setting itself.
Hey all, it's obvious by now, but I missed last Sunday's update. My friend went to the hospital this past weekend and it's been a rough time till about a day or so ago. Her OCSD has apparently been off the chain, but she is doing better now. I did try to get the chapter out, but I had a hard time focusing. I got most of the research done, so that's something.
As an apology, I am going for a triple update this weekend. So expect three new chapters out sometime this Sunday.
And apparently we'll be having a massive snowstorm between Friday Night and Sunday, so the odds are in my favor. Unless I lsoe internet connection, in which case, let us pray that I can post it by using the data from my phone.
As an apology, I am going for a triple update this weekend. So expect three new chapters out sometime this Sunday.
And apparently we'll be having a massive snowstorm between Friday Night and Sunday, so the odds are in my favor. Unless I lsoe internet connection, in which case, let us pray that I can post it by using the data from my phone.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Real life is always the priority, no need to apologise for that.
I agree real life is a priority. It is a privilege to him write something nice for us, which as it stands we seem to quite appreciate.
Book Two -- The Mines of Nashkel
Chapter Eight
10 Mirtul, the Year of the Banner
Despite his wounds, Abdel had been able to make it back to the outskirts of Beregost, where a patrol of the town’s clerics had found him. They had healed his wounds to the best of their abilities and had taken him back to Song of the Morning, where he had been personally tended to by Keldath Ormlyr. Although Abel’s had been all but healed by Ormlyr, the Most Radiant had insisted that he wait two days to recover from the ordeal. After learning of what had happened to Abdel, Ormlyr sent out his clerics to investigate the site and retrieve the remains of the dead.
All of Abdel’s companions had come to see him. Imoen had been the first; she had been ghost-white and had insisted on apologizing to Abdel, believing that it was her fault that he had been attacked by Bassilus. Jaheira had scolded him for being so reckless, while Khalid stammered out a defense for him. Xzar and Montaron had been the easiest, Montaron had only complained that they had been put back another two days, while Xzar babbled aimlessly about a magical sword and the God of Thieves.
After his recuperation, Ormlyr had returned to speak to him. “I am sorry for all that has happened to you,” he told Abdel the morning he was to leave. “Bassilus had been our responsibility. He was a very sick man.”
“How does a man like that have the favor of a god?” Abdel asked.
Ormlyr’s face darkened a bit. “You have grown up sheltered in Candlekeep, so I do not expect you to understand, but there are gods as dark and twisted as the Lords of the Nine.”
“Which one did Bassilus serve?” Abdel asked.
Ormlyr’s face flushed. “Bassilus had once served the Morning Lord, as I and others do here, but he was a sick man and he had left the path of Lathander some time ago. Which dark power prayed upon him, I cannot say--nor shall I repeat their names here, in this hallowed place.”
Abdel nodded. His mind wandered back to the night and to the dead people Bassilus had murdered and whose corpses he had animated. He remembered the faces of the two children. A shudder went through his body. He thought it better not to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “What about the others?”
Ormlyr’s face was solomon. “As you had told us, their bodies had been destroyed by the dawn. I have declared it a miracle of Lathander. He smiles upon you Abdel.”
Abdel’s thoughts were still on the dead children. “You...you can’t...uh…”
“Bring them back?”
Ormlyr’s words were like a hammer. Abdel looked up. He tried to find the proper words. “I...I had heard that...sometimes...a priest can…”
“Can bring the dead back to life.” Ormlyr finished.
Abdel looked away from the priest. “Yeah.”
Ormlyr did not speak at first. When he did, his voice was low and full of sympathy. “It is true that Lathander blesses some members of our faith with the power to bring back those who have fallen.”
Abdel felt a perk of hope, but dredded what the priest would say next.
“I am among those who have been blessed with such a gift,” Ormlyr said. He bent low and put a hand on Abdel’s shoulder. It felt terribly hot. “And were I able, I would bring them back Abdel. I would bring them all back...but I cannot. Even had their bodies not been reduced to ash, they had been dead too long for me to have restored them.”
Abdel fought back a flood of emotion. “Then...they’re…”
“They are at peace now,” Ormlyr said. “Lathander saw to it that their bodies be burned to ash, so that they may not suffer greater grief.”
Abel felt a flash of anger. “Why didn’t he bring them back? Can’t gods bring back the dead? Why didn’t he bring them back?”
Abdel had expected Ormlyr to grow angry or distant, but the Most Radiant did not. Instead he kneeled down and caught Abdel’s eyes with his own. “The gods cannot undo all things Abdel, you are old enough to know this is true. Jaheira has told me of your loss. You have my sympathies.”
Abdel felt tears well up in his eyes. He fought them back, but they instead rolled down his face. “If...if I had brought Gorion’s body straight here, could you have…?”
“Have brought him back?” Ormlyr finished. “Perhaps, but I do not think so. He sacrificed what remained of his life, so that yours might flourish. And he would not have wanted you to risk retrieving his body, had his killers left it for you to retrieve.”
Abdel sucked in air. The Most Radiant pushed something into Abdel’s hands. Abdel looked down and saw the holy symbol that Bassilus had brandished--or one that looked similar, for the defacings were not there. Abdel stared at it.
“Many things that are broken will remain broken.” Ormlyr told him gently. “But through sacrifice and renewal, many more things can be mended. Your father sacrificed his life so that you might have a new beginning. Bassilus died so that those whom he harmed might be freed and be allowed to start again. At the end of a dark trial, there is another dark trial, but between them are glimpses of hope and opportunity for a new tomorrow.”
Abdel felt numb, but he nodded. Ormlyr continued to speak, “Take this. It belonged to Bassilus.”
Disgust and revulsion shot through Abdel. He dropped the holy symbol as if it were made of hot lead. He looked up at the priest accusingly, but Ormlyr did not seem to see the look. Instead, the priest picked up the holy symbol and replace dit in Abdel’s hands. “This symbol has been in the hands of many priests before Bassilus. Most were humble servants, some were great, and few left the path. Each time they have passed, we take the symbol and restore it to the beauty it had on the day it was first created. Each time, it is reborn for a new bearer, though its purpose remains the same.”
“I don’t want it.” Abdel said. He made to toss it away, but Ormlyr grabbed his hand with a grip that betrayed an unseen strength.
The Most Radiant’s eyes bored into his. “Take this in memory of those who he murdered.”
Abdel felt the strength leave his hand.
Ormlyr stood up and then produced a second object; the hammer that Abdel had taken from Bassilus. “You would not know of this hammer, though its name and history is known to me. It is known as Ashideena. It was made long ago, long before the iron shortage. It is as I’m sure you have already learned, enchanted. Take it with you. It is best that it leaves here with you, rather than remain here and be remembered as the tool of a murderer.”
Abdel took the hammer and stared at it. It was clean and beautiful, though Abdel thought he could see dried blood on it from certain angles. He looked up at the Most Radiant. “Thank you.” he said, though he did not feel it.
The Most Radiant did not speak, but instead bowed his head and left Abdel to his thoughts. Shortly thereafter, an acolyte arrived with his gear. Abdel changed into familiar traveling clothes and put on his gambeson. He had half a mind to leave the hammer and the medallion behind, but found that he could not. He put on the medallion, but shame forced him to hide it beneath his tunic. The hammer he slid into a loop on his belt. Then he was out of the small ward where the wounded and sick were kept and found Imoen and Jaheira waiting for him in the main hall of the temple.
“It is about time.” Jaheira said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Jaheira!” Imoen protested. “Leave him alone, he’s been through a lot!”
“If you treat a man like a delicate flower, then he will grow into a vicious weed.” Jaheira snapped back at Imoen. Then to Abdel, she looked and said. “So, are you ready to go?”
Abdel was taken aback at first, but upon closer examination, found that he was relieved. Jaheira did not want to talk about the dead, did not want to dwell on the pain or sorrow, and did not want to try and justify any of it. It had simply happened; Abdel would either have to accept that and move on or lay down and wither away in sorrow and misery.
Abdel stiffened. “I’m ready. Is everyone else?”
“They are,” Jaheira said. She turned and exited the temple.
Imoen followed hot on her heels. “Hey, cut him some slack! After…”
“Imoen,” Abdel said. She looked at him to protest, but Abdel’s face shut her up. Her face grew red and she looked away. She did not say anything more.
The three met up with the rest of the company. It was late morning when they set off for Nashkel. The morning and noon were bright and sunny, but as the day wore on, grey clouds sailed into view from the coast. By evening, scattered showers forced the company to make an early halt. They put up their tents and cooked as best a supper as they could manage and retired early.
The next morning was still cold and gray, though the rain had stopped. Abdel had thought this an encouraging sign, but Jaheira had dashed that hope when she gathered them that morning after they had eaten a good breakfast of eggs and ham. “A storm is making its way up the coast.” she told them. “It will begin before noon.”
“W-well, t-then we s-s-s-should g-go back to B-B-Beregost.” Khalid advised.
“And what, lose a tenday because your scaly yellow hide is afraid of some water?” Montaron demanded. “Not on your life pointy-ears!”
“It’s more than just some water!” Imoen protested. “There’s wind and lightning and sometimes hail.”
“There will be no hail in this season,” Jaheira told her. “But you are correct child, it will not just be a bit of rain.”
“Then let us take shelter in the cave of the Storm Master himself!” Xzar said. As per the developing habit of the company, they all ignored him.
Abdel did not want to go back to Beregost. He wanted to put the terrible memories of his experience in the town behind him. He looked at Jaheira. “So...we have to go back? What about shelter out here? Is there anywhere we could stay?”
“We will not be turning back,” Jaheira said. “As foolish as Montaron is, we cannot allow for anymore delays in getting to Nashkel. While you were bed resting in the temple’s ward, I had learned that the situation is growing worse. We must put an end to the cause of this crises.”
“You finally speak sense pointy ears.” Montaron said with a grin.
“Hold on!” Imoen protested. “You can’t be serious Jaheira, you can’t want us to walk right into a storm like that, can you?”
Jaheira waved a dismissive hand. “You are inexperienced child; Khalid and I have traveled in worse weather than this. You should be thankful.”
“A-actually Jaheira...I-I th-think we s-s-s-should g-go b-b-b-back to B-Beregost.” Khalid stammered. His face was red.
Jaheira bore holes through Khalid with her eyes. “Don’t be foolish Khalid! You know as well as I do that we cannot afford further delays!”
Imoen pounced. “Well, that’s two for and two against! Abdel, tell her we should go back to Beregost! Please! It’s dangerous!”
“Just a moment!” Jaheira snarled. She grabbed Khalid and yanked him closer to her. “He did not vote for against! Did you Khalid?”
“W-w-w-well, I-I-I…” Khalid began.
“Hey, don’t try and bully him into changing his mind!” Imoen protested. She tried to impose herself between the two, but Jaheira shoved her away.
“Be silent stupid child!” Jaheira growled. “I’ll thank you not to involve yourself with me and my husband!”
Imoen flushed, but did not back down. She started forward to pull Jaheira away from Khalid, but Abdel grabbed her by the arm firmly. “Enough!” he shouted, causing even Jaheira to stop twisting Khalid’s arm. “I say we go. The storm will probably overtake us back on our way to Beregost anyway. At least this way, we’ll be going in the right direction.”
Imoen started to protest, but Abdel silenced her with a glare. Imoen’s face grew even redder. She turned, yanked her arm free and stormed off. Jaheira released Khalid, but said something to him in their own language. Khalid flushed and looked away. Montaron chuckled to himself and Xzar babbled about angry diggers and caves.
“If we do not turn away, the curse will get us all!” he told them.
They broke camp in dark spirits and the mood did not lessen as they traveled south into the storm. Ahead of them, the sky was so dark that the grey clouds seemed almost black. Flashes of lightning was occasionally seen in the far distance. The trees swayed violently in the winds and even though they were miles from the coast, Abdel could all but feel the churning seas. The storm would be on them in perhaps an hour, no more than two.
Abdel was so focused on the skies and the coming storm he had paid little attention to the land around him until Imoen had tugged on his arm. She had not been speaking to him, so he was surprised. He looked down to see her pointing out towards a field. “Abdel,” she said, “What is that?”
At first Abdel didn’t see anything. He guessed that Imoen might have seen a bear or perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but as Abdel continued to look, he saw shapes moving. He stopped and put a hand to his brow, as if to somehow magnify his sight. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“What are you two yapping about?” Montaron demanded.
“There’s something over there, by those trees.” Imoen told him.
Montaron looked at the tall grass, then back to them. “Well, I’m not likely to see a damn thing! Hey, long ears, how about you? You see anything?”
Khalid, who had been sulking since they had left camp, turned and scowled at the halfling, but looked toward where Imoen and Abdel had been. The half-elf frowned, then his brows raised and his eyes went wide. “O-oh! J-J-J-Jaheira!”
Jaheira, who had been ignoring the conversation, turned to join in staring across the field. Her expression changed from annoyance to alarm. “Riders!” she told them.
“RIders?” Imoen asked, “What are they doing so far out here? Are they hunters or something?”
“N-no!” Khalid exclaimed, “They’re b-b-b-bandits!”
“Bandits!” Imoen protested. “But it’s going to pour! What are they doing out in this weather?”
“I don’t know,” Jaheira admitted. “But we cannot afford to find out. Quickly now, before they--no! Damn it all, they’ve spotted us!”
As if to confirm what she said, the blast of a loud horn came from the group of riders and suddenly the blurry figures began to move towards them at great speed. There could be no doubt as to what they were or what their intent was. From far away, the calls of other horns could be heard.
“What do we do?” Imoen asked.
“We fight stupid girl!” Montaron said even as he drew his short sword. “Been too long since I had a bit of action for me steel!”
“No!” Khalid said, “We, we have to f-flee!”
Jaheira scowled at Khalid. “There are but a half dozen. Even on horses, they can be dealt with. I…”
“J-Jaheira!” Khalid protested. “Th-the horns! The h-h-horns!”
Jaheira stopped, then listened. The rest of them did too. Far away, they could hear horns. Several horns and they seemed to be from different directions. Jaheira’s face grew pale. She spun around, as if searching for something. She found it east of them, toward the coast. She pointed toward a wide stand of trees. “There! There is an old lake there. Fisherman’s Lake, I believe the locals call it. We will seek shelter there. Come! We must hurry! The storm may yet save us!”
They company didn’t ask any questions. Not even Montaron. They followed the druidess’s lead toward the stand of trees, but it soon became apparent that the bandits would overtake them before they could reach the safety of the woods. They had only made it halfway when the bandits had reached the road they’d just abandoned.
Jaheira stopped and planted her staff in the ground with one hand. In the other she produced a small bushel of mistletoe. The rest of the company stopped, but she waved them on. “Keep going! I will slow them down!”
“N-no, J-J-Jaheira!” Khalid protested.
Jaheira shook her head. “Go! You cannot waste any time!”
“You can’t hold them on your own!” Abdel protested. He freed his hammer and shield and stood beside Jaheira. The rest of the company soon began to prepare for battle.
“You fools!” Jaheira screamed, “We do not stand a chance in an open field! Hurry!”
“We’re staying with you pointy ears!” Montaron shot back, “So do what you ought to do and stop arguing!”
Jaheira looked as though she wanted to argue, but took his advice. She waved the mistletoe and held her staff aloft. She chanted the words to one of her spells. Khalid produced his bow and Imoen had produced one that she had purchased in Beregost. Together, the two sent out shots of arrows at the oncoming bandits, though they were too far for their arrows to reach.
The bandits must have realized the company were mounting a defense, for they urged their horses to greater speeds as some of them drew swords and others produced their own bows. Abdel took a deep breath and brought up his new heater shield. He had no illusions as to his chances of stopping a mounted opponent.
Jaheira’s spell reached a crescendo. She lowered the tip of her staff at the leading bandit and spoke a word. From above, the grey clouds spat a bolt of lightning. The bolt struck the man atop, killing him almost instantly. The horse slammed into the soft mud, taking the two riders immediately behind the lead rider with them.
Surprise and alarm caused the riders to break off their charge, but they had moved too close. Imoen and Khalid loosed arrows and together, brought down a fourth rider. The remaining two abandoned the attack and turned to flee, but not before a second bolt of lightning, at Jaheira’s urging, struck one of them dead. The other took off at full speed and seemed to escape the range of Jaheira’s magic, for she instead directed the third bolt at one of the dismounted riders, who had seemingly survived his fall with a broken shoulder.
“You did it!” Imoen cried.
“No, I delayed them.” Jaheira said. With her staff, she indicated two blobs of motion far away across the plains. One was north of them, one south, coming from the west. “There are many more. The rider that escaped will send them our way.”
“Can’t you zap them too?” Imoen asked.
“No foolish child!” Jaheira scolded, “That was the greatest of my spells, I cannot soon call upon it again! And there are many more of them. Our only hope is to seek shelter within the woods. If we are fortunate, they will not pursue us far into the woods, but I sense a dark hand in this. Bandits would not be out in a storm like this. Not without good reason.”
“Then let’s stop yammering and start running!” Montaron said.
The company took the advice and they renewed their efforts to reach the woods. By then the rain had begun. It came first in the form of occasional heavy drops, but soon the rain poured down so hard and so quickly, that no amount of weather cloaks could have kept them dry. From across the plains, Abdel could see now three groups of riders approaching them at high speed. He wondered if they would dare to enter the woods to find them.
“Keep going!” Jaheira told them as they passed into the woods, “These trees are too far apart, they will have no trouble in maneuvering around us and attacking! Look for any thick cluster of trees! That will slow them down, but leave us unhindered!”
The wind grew strong. Loose twigs and leaves were picked up and flung through the air like an angry swarm of bees, almost blinding the company. Branches crashed down from trees to crash onto the ground. Lightning flashed and split trees. Fearful of the storm’s ferocity, the company slowed their pace. Abdel had never seen a storm so fierce. He was not so sure that they should have taken cover in the woods.
“Keep going damn it!” Jaheira yelled to the others.
“There’s too much wind!” Abdel yelled back at her, “We can’t see where we’re going!”
“Stop your bellyaching!” Montaron yelled. The halfling had taken the lead of the pack; his low stature had seemingly made it easier for him to navigate in the crazy wind.
“They come! They come!” Xzar yelled.
Abdel did not heed the mage at first, but when Montaron echoed his words, Abdel understood. He looked behind them and saw the bandits entering the woods. There must have been a dozen of them. They had no bows out, but had drawn swords and clubs. They moved at a moderate pace, trying to more carefully navigate the woods. When they spotted the company, one man shouted something and gestured towards them with a drawn sword. The bandits quickly broke out into a slow charge.
“To arms!” Abdel cried to the others. In moments, his shield and hammer were out. The others followed his example.
The bandits charged. They had made it no more than a hundred yards in their direction when a small bead of fire shot past Abdel. The wind caused the bead to veer off-course; it drifted towards the left flank and struck one of the far left riders. A great fireball erupted into life. It expanded, engulfing half the riders. A half dozen bandits and their horses hit the ground, charred beyond recognition. The grass had been burnt, the rain and water had been transformed into a cloud of steam.
Half of the bandits lost their nerve, but the remaining three urged their horses into a full charge. One veered toward Abdel, a sword in hand. Abdel tried to evade the rider, but he was too quick. Sword came down and met Abdel’s heater shield. Abdel’s shield was no match for the momentum of the rider. The shield splintered and Abdel was thrown painfully to the ground as the horse flew by.
Abdel scrambled to his feet. The rider was already turning his horse around sharply--too sharply. His horse had reached patch of thick, slippery mud. The horse, accustomed to following any order given by its rider, made the turn too eagerly and lost its footing. The horse went hard to the ground, its rider tumbling off.
Abdel was on the down rider in seconds. The rider raised his sword to fend off the coming blow, but Abdel swatted it away with his hammer. The rider yelped and his arm spasmed and lost the sword. Abdel’s next stroke smashed the bandit’s skull in.
Around him, the fight had grown chaotic. Khalid lay in a patch of mud, bleeding profously all over his tunic. Jaheira stood over him. She had discarded her staff and drawn her scimitar and taken up her shield to fight one of the riders, who would ride around on his worse to take swings at her. They were not too accurate, but even the most glancing blow would send the half-elf stumbling. It was only a matter of time before she made a mistake or grew too tired.
“Jaheira!” Abdel yelled. He ran toward her to help, but was nearly beheaded by another rider; the other bandits had regained their wits.
The rider turned and began to make another pass, but something small and fast leapt down from a tree branch and landed atop the rider. It was Montaron. With a mad howl, he drove a dagger into the man’s back twice. The rider jerked and the horse bucked. Both men were thrown clear.
“Abdel! Help!”
Abdel turned to see Imoen. She had managed to find safety between three close growing trees. A bandit had tried to get at her; the fresh chop of sword blade into the tree trunk and branches were obvious. He had given up on that though and had dismounted and advanced on Imoen by foot.
Imoen had drawn her own blade, but Abdel could see the blade shake as Imoen tried to take up one of the basic defensive stances that Jaheira had shown her. Abdel looked back to Jaheira; she fended off yet another attack from the bandit rider, but already he was circling back for another run.
“Abdel! Help!” Imoen screamed.
Abdel looked to see that the bandit was already at the trees and testing Imoen’s defenses. His sword strokes came from a predictable overhead or underhand approach. Imoen blocked the blows, but each one sent her back a couple of steps and nearly knocked her off-balance. Abdel knew she would not last long.
Abdel raced toward the bandit. By the time he had reached them, the bandit had penetrated the circle of trees and had pushed Imoen into thick branches. Imoen screamed and tried to defend herself by holding her sword up. The bandit laughed, adjusted his stance and prepared to stab past her guard and into her belly.
“Raaawww!” Abdel screamed.
The bandit jerked around in surprise. He turned and presented a basic defensive stance. Abdel came at the branches and swung wildly, but found his hammer catching on branches and leaves. It bounced backwards, the momentum forcing him back several steps--and saving him from being impaled by the bandit. Abdel suddenly realized why the bandit had only used overhead and underhand strikes; the branches and trunks made any other maneuver risky.
Despite the numbness in his hands and his natural inclination to surrender ground to recover, Abdel let out another roar and rushed forward. The bandit retreated a few steps out of caution. Abdel came at him with an overhanded blow, one that the bandit avoided. The bandit swung back, but as Abdel had predicted, the bandit had kept to his vertical line to avoid as many branches as he could. Abdel had enough time to fall back, then pressed forward with another one of his swings.
The bandit evaded and made an upwards thrust at Abdel. It had been a quick stab and poorly aimed, slicing across the front of Abdel’s gambeson and onto the side. Pain flashed and Abdel stumbled backwards in surprise. The bandit’s sword came away crimson. He grinned into Abdel’s face and Abdel knew then that the man would murder him. From below the bandit’s own gambeson erupted a crimson point.
The bandit gasped. He looked down to find inches of steel sticking out his front. From behind, Imoen had thrusted her arming sword through the entirety of his body. The blade stayed for a moment. Abdel and the bandit stared at it. Then just as quickly as it had appeared, the blade retracted itself and the bandit was shoved from behind. Imoen stood over him, face pale and lips trembling.
“Imoen!” Abdel called, “Are you okay?” he asked.
Imoen nodded, “Yes, I’m--Abdel, you’re bleeding!”
Abdel had forgotten. He looked down. He couldn’t feel the wound too much then. Abdel wasn’t sure why, but he hoped it wasn’t his death. He would need to get Jaheira to…
“Jaheira!” Abdel cried. He turned and saw the half-elf was still standing, though she had lost her shield and the arm that had held it was bloody. She still clutched onto her sword. Around her rode the rider upon his horse, unharmed.
Abdel didn’t stop to think. He bolted straight for the rider. The rider came around and with a great swing, caught Jaheira’s sword with his own. She let out a cry and the scimitar flew out of her hand. The half-elf lost her footing and fell atop her wounded husband, who now did not move. The rider made a slow trot of it as he circled for the final blow. The horse sped up and the rider leaned down, enough so that his sword would cleave through the woman, if not her and her husband in one stroke.
Abdel came in from the riders flank. The rider had been so focused on his coup d'etat that he had not seen Abdel until it was too late. Abdel leapt as the rider came by and grabbed hold of the man. The bandit screamed and struggled. Abdel was pulled along for the ride. The two struggled, but eventually Abdel’s weight pulled the bandit down to the ground with him. The horse panicked and bucked them both.
The two rolled painfully, separated and got to their feet. Both had lost their weapons. Abdel found the carving knife he always kept on himself. The bandit found a long, thin-tipped dagger. The bandit grinned and tossed the dagger between both his hands, impressing upon Abdel his skill. Abdel took a deep breath and tried not to lose his cool. He was bigger than the bandit, but his blade was shorter and not meant for thrusting, let alone killing. Abdel was wounded, the bandit mostly just bruised.
“You gonna die pretty boy!” the bandit hissed. He came at Abdel.
Abdel jerked back and flashed his steel, but the bandit had not pressed the attack. Instead he had held back and laughed. “Nervous?” the bandit mocked.
Abdel gripped his knife more tightly than before. The bandit sneered and came at Abdel again. Abdel’s slash was had more control, but it was still wild. The bandit laughed and made for several stabs. Abdel narrowly avoided all of them and wasn’t able to offer any counter-attack of his own. The bandit laughed again and came at Abdel, his blade a slight yellow-orange. Abdel avoided the first few jabs, but the last slipped past his guard and caught him in the abdomen.
Terrible pain as the hot knife pierced into him, the muscles slowed the stab and his own backwards momentum kept it from going too deep; perhaps only an inch had gone in. Abdel stumbled backwards all the same, shocked at the blow. His heart pounded and he thought for sure that he would not escape. He silently prayed that someone--anyone would help him. As he thought this, he noticed the dagger in the bandit’s hand had taken on a red glow.
The bandit yelped and dropped the dagger, his hand seared red. Behind the bandit, Jaheira held up her mistletoe in her bloodied arm and was speaking the words to a spell. The bandit cursed. The bandit looked up at Abdel, alarm in his face. Abdel stared back into the bandit and saw the bravado had melted. The realization that the tables had turned and he was about to die. Something in Abdel shifted then.
Abdel tossed away his carving knife and raised his fists. The bandit stared at him in surprise, then grinned and raised his own fists. “C’mon then, you stupid whoreson!”
Abdel went at the man hard. His first blow caught the man by surprise, catching him across the nose and shattering it. The bandit recovered quickly though and delivered two quick blows to Abdel’s gut. Abdel had never feared getting punched there; his abs were like a second shield.
Pain exploded there. Abdel doubled over and another punch across the face sent him sprawling. The bandit had hit his stab wound. The bandit leapt on Abdel, pinning one of his arms with his own leg and his fists going for the face. Abdel blocked what he could with one arm, but there was little he could do.
Contrary to how he should have felt; Abdel did not panic. He endured the blows and instead used his greater weight and strength to shift the bandit’s over. The bandit jerked and tied to hold his balance, but the mud left his other leg with little traction to save himself. The bandit rolled and the two found themselves awkwardly locked. For a brief moment the two struggled. Abdel’s muscles strained, his abdomen and side burned in agony, but he refused to surrender.
The bandit struggled to keep the lock, but soon his muscles shook with exhaustion and then failed. Abdel rolled onto the man and punched him in the face with as much strength as he could muster. He felt the jawbone crack, felt the head snap back. The bandit had been knocked senseless. Abdel looked for something--and found it; a rock about twice as thick as his fist. He grabbed it, yanked it from the wet mud and slammed it down upon the man’s face until he had caved in the skull.
The world had seemingly gone quiet. Abdel turned and saw that there were no more living bandits. Several horses fled through the woods. Jaheira half-sat, half-lay atop her husband, with Imoen trying to tend to both of them. Xzar was stumbling through a bush, a bloody dagger in his hand. Montaron had extracted himself from his own struggle. The halfling was caked in blood and mud, but looked satisfied.
Abdel turned back to the dead bandit and saw Gorion’s own crushed head. Abdel yelped. He dropped the rock and leaped off his father--only to realize it wasn’t his father, but the bandit. For a moment, Abdel could only stare at the ruined skull of his enemy. He looked down at the rock he had used to commit the deed and shuddered.
Chapter Eight
10 Mirtul, the Year of the Banner
Despite his wounds, Abdel had been able to make it back to the outskirts of Beregost, where a patrol of the town’s clerics had found him. They had healed his wounds to the best of their abilities and had taken him back to Song of the Morning, where he had been personally tended to by Keldath Ormlyr. Although Abel’s had been all but healed by Ormlyr, the Most Radiant had insisted that he wait two days to recover from the ordeal. After learning of what had happened to Abdel, Ormlyr sent out his clerics to investigate the site and retrieve the remains of the dead.
All of Abdel’s companions had come to see him. Imoen had been the first; she had been ghost-white and had insisted on apologizing to Abdel, believing that it was her fault that he had been attacked by Bassilus. Jaheira had scolded him for being so reckless, while Khalid stammered out a defense for him. Xzar and Montaron had been the easiest, Montaron had only complained that they had been put back another two days, while Xzar babbled aimlessly about a magical sword and the God of Thieves.
After his recuperation, Ormlyr had returned to speak to him. “I am sorry for all that has happened to you,” he told Abdel the morning he was to leave. “Bassilus had been our responsibility. He was a very sick man.”
“How does a man like that have the favor of a god?” Abdel asked.
Ormlyr’s face darkened a bit. “You have grown up sheltered in Candlekeep, so I do not expect you to understand, but there are gods as dark and twisted as the Lords of the Nine.”
“Which one did Bassilus serve?” Abdel asked.
Ormlyr’s face flushed. “Bassilus had once served the Morning Lord, as I and others do here, but he was a sick man and he had left the path of Lathander some time ago. Which dark power prayed upon him, I cannot say--nor shall I repeat their names here, in this hallowed place.”
Abdel nodded. His mind wandered back to the night and to the dead people Bassilus had murdered and whose corpses he had animated. He remembered the faces of the two children. A shudder went through his body. He thought it better not to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “What about the others?”
Ormlyr’s face was solomon. “As you had told us, their bodies had been destroyed by the dawn. I have declared it a miracle of Lathander. He smiles upon you Abdel.”
Abdel’s thoughts were still on the dead children. “You...you can’t...uh…”
“Bring them back?”
Ormlyr’s words were like a hammer. Abdel looked up. He tried to find the proper words. “I...I had heard that...sometimes...a priest can…”
“Can bring the dead back to life.” Ormlyr finished.
Abdel looked away from the priest. “Yeah.”
Ormlyr did not speak at first. When he did, his voice was low and full of sympathy. “It is true that Lathander blesses some members of our faith with the power to bring back those who have fallen.”
Abdel felt a perk of hope, but dredded what the priest would say next.
“I am among those who have been blessed with such a gift,” Ormlyr said. He bent low and put a hand on Abdel’s shoulder. It felt terribly hot. “And were I able, I would bring them back Abdel. I would bring them all back...but I cannot. Even had their bodies not been reduced to ash, they had been dead too long for me to have restored them.”
Abdel fought back a flood of emotion. “Then...they’re…”
“They are at peace now,” Ormlyr said. “Lathander saw to it that their bodies be burned to ash, so that they may not suffer greater grief.”
Abel felt a flash of anger. “Why didn’t he bring them back? Can’t gods bring back the dead? Why didn’t he bring them back?”
Abdel had expected Ormlyr to grow angry or distant, but the Most Radiant did not. Instead he kneeled down and caught Abdel’s eyes with his own. “The gods cannot undo all things Abdel, you are old enough to know this is true. Jaheira has told me of your loss. You have my sympathies.”
Abdel felt tears well up in his eyes. He fought them back, but they instead rolled down his face. “If...if I had brought Gorion’s body straight here, could you have…?”
“Have brought him back?” Ormlyr finished. “Perhaps, but I do not think so. He sacrificed what remained of his life, so that yours might flourish. And he would not have wanted you to risk retrieving his body, had his killers left it for you to retrieve.”
Abdel sucked in air. The Most Radiant pushed something into Abdel’s hands. Abdel looked down and saw the holy symbol that Bassilus had brandished--or one that looked similar, for the defacings were not there. Abdel stared at it.
“Many things that are broken will remain broken.” Ormlyr told him gently. “But through sacrifice and renewal, many more things can be mended. Your father sacrificed his life so that you might have a new beginning. Bassilus died so that those whom he harmed might be freed and be allowed to start again. At the end of a dark trial, there is another dark trial, but between them are glimpses of hope and opportunity for a new tomorrow.”
Abdel felt numb, but he nodded. Ormlyr continued to speak, “Take this. It belonged to Bassilus.”
Disgust and revulsion shot through Abdel. He dropped the holy symbol as if it were made of hot lead. He looked up at the priest accusingly, but Ormlyr did not seem to see the look. Instead, the priest picked up the holy symbol and replace dit in Abdel’s hands. “This symbol has been in the hands of many priests before Bassilus. Most were humble servants, some were great, and few left the path. Each time they have passed, we take the symbol and restore it to the beauty it had on the day it was first created. Each time, it is reborn for a new bearer, though its purpose remains the same.”
“I don’t want it.” Abdel said. He made to toss it away, but Ormlyr grabbed his hand with a grip that betrayed an unseen strength.
The Most Radiant’s eyes bored into his. “Take this in memory of those who he murdered.”
Abdel felt the strength leave his hand.
Ormlyr stood up and then produced a second object; the hammer that Abdel had taken from Bassilus. “You would not know of this hammer, though its name and history is known to me. It is known as Ashideena. It was made long ago, long before the iron shortage. It is as I’m sure you have already learned, enchanted. Take it with you. It is best that it leaves here with you, rather than remain here and be remembered as the tool of a murderer.”
Abdel took the hammer and stared at it. It was clean and beautiful, though Abdel thought he could see dried blood on it from certain angles. He looked up at the Most Radiant. “Thank you.” he said, though he did not feel it.
The Most Radiant did not speak, but instead bowed his head and left Abdel to his thoughts. Shortly thereafter, an acolyte arrived with his gear. Abdel changed into familiar traveling clothes and put on his gambeson. He had half a mind to leave the hammer and the medallion behind, but found that he could not. He put on the medallion, but shame forced him to hide it beneath his tunic. The hammer he slid into a loop on his belt. Then he was out of the small ward where the wounded and sick were kept and found Imoen and Jaheira waiting for him in the main hall of the temple.
“It is about time.” Jaheira said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Jaheira!” Imoen protested. “Leave him alone, he’s been through a lot!”
“If you treat a man like a delicate flower, then he will grow into a vicious weed.” Jaheira snapped back at Imoen. Then to Abdel, she looked and said. “So, are you ready to go?”
Abdel was taken aback at first, but upon closer examination, found that he was relieved. Jaheira did not want to talk about the dead, did not want to dwell on the pain or sorrow, and did not want to try and justify any of it. It had simply happened; Abdel would either have to accept that and move on or lay down and wither away in sorrow and misery.
Abdel stiffened. “I’m ready. Is everyone else?”
“They are,” Jaheira said. She turned and exited the temple.
Imoen followed hot on her heels. “Hey, cut him some slack! After…”
“Imoen,” Abdel said. She looked at him to protest, but Abdel’s face shut her up. Her face grew red and she looked away. She did not say anything more.
The three met up with the rest of the company. It was late morning when they set off for Nashkel. The morning and noon were bright and sunny, but as the day wore on, grey clouds sailed into view from the coast. By evening, scattered showers forced the company to make an early halt. They put up their tents and cooked as best a supper as they could manage and retired early.
The next morning was still cold and gray, though the rain had stopped. Abdel had thought this an encouraging sign, but Jaheira had dashed that hope when she gathered them that morning after they had eaten a good breakfast of eggs and ham. “A storm is making its way up the coast.” she told them. “It will begin before noon.”
“W-well, t-then we s-s-s-should g-go back to B-B-Beregost.” Khalid advised.
“And what, lose a tenday because your scaly yellow hide is afraid of some water?” Montaron demanded. “Not on your life pointy-ears!”
“It’s more than just some water!” Imoen protested. “There’s wind and lightning and sometimes hail.”
“There will be no hail in this season,” Jaheira told her. “But you are correct child, it will not just be a bit of rain.”
“Then let us take shelter in the cave of the Storm Master himself!” Xzar said. As per the developing habit of the company, they all ignored him.
Abdel did not want to go back to Beregost. He wanted to put the terrible memories of his experience in the town behind him. He looked at Jaheira. “So...we have to go back? What about shelter out here? Is there anywhere we could stay?”
“We will not be turning back,” Jaheira said. “As foolish as Montaron is, we cannot allow for anymore delays in getting to Nashkel. While you were bed resting in the temple’s ward, I had learned that the situation is growing worse. We must put an end to the cause of this crises.”
“You finally speak sense pointy ears.” Montaron said with a grin.
“Hold on!” Imoen protested. “You can’t be serious Jaheira, you can’t want us to walk right into a storm like that, can you?”
Jaheira waved a dismissive hand. “You are inexperienced child; Khalid and I have traveled in worse weather than this. You should be thankful.”
“A-actually Jaheira...I-I th-think we s-s-s-should g-go b-b-b-back to B-Beregost.” Khalid stammered. His face was red.
Jaheira bore holes through Khalid with her eyes. “Don’t be foolish Khalid! You know as well as I do that we cannot afford further delays!”
Imoen pounced. “Well, that’s two for and two against! Abdel, tell her we should go back to Beregost! Please! It’s dangerous!”
“Just a moment!” Jaheira snarled. She grabbed Khalid and yanked him closer to her. “He did not vote for against! Did you Khalid?”
“W-w-w-well, I-I-I…” Khalid began.
“Hey, don’t try and bully him into changing his mind!” Imoen protested. She tried to impose herself between the two, but Jaheira shoved her away.
“Be silent stupid child!” Jaheira growled. “I’ll thank you not to involve yourself with me and my husband!”
Imoen flushed, but did not back down. She started forward to pull Jaheira away from Khalid, but Abdel grabbed her by the arm firmly. “Enough!” he shouted, causing even Jaheira to stop twisting Khalid’s arm. “I say we go. The storm will probably overtake us back on our way to Beregost anyway. At least this way, we’ll be going in the right direction.”
Imoen started to protest, but Abdel silenced her with a glare. Imoen’s face grew even redder. She turned, yanked her arm free and stormed off. Jaheira released Khalid, but said something to him in their own language. Khalid flushed and looked away. Montaron chuckled to himself and Xzar babbled about angry diggers and caves.
“If we do not turn away, the curse will get us all!” he told them.
They broke camp in dark spirits and the mood did not lessen as they traveled south into the storm. Ahead of them, the sky was so dark that the grey clouds seemed almost black. Flashes of lightning was occasionally seen in the far distance. The trees swayed violently in the winds and even though they were miles from the coast, Abdel could all but feel the churning seas. The storm would be on them in perhaps an hour, no more than two.
Abdel was so focused on the skies and the coming storm he had paid little attention to the land around him until Imoen had tugged on his arm. She had not been speaking to him, so he was surprised. He looked down to see her pointing out towards a field. “Abdel,” she said, “What is that?”
At first Abdel didn’t see anything. He guessed that Imoen might have seen a bear or perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but as Abdel continued to look, he saw shapes moving. He stopped and put a hand to his brow, as if to somehow magnify his sight. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“What are you two yapping about?” Montaron demanded.
“There’s something over there, by those trees.” Imoen told him.
Montaron looked at the tall grass, then back to them. “Well, I’m not likely to see a damn thing! Hey, long ears, how about you? You see anything?”
Khalid, who had been sulking since they had left camp, turned and scowled at the halfling, but looked toward where Imoen and Abdel had been. The half-elf frowned, then his brows raised and his eyes went wide. “O-oh! J-J-J-Jaheira!”
Jaheira, who had been ignoring the conversation, turned to join in staring across the field. Her expression changed from annoyance to alarm. “Riders!” she told them.
“RIders?” Imoen asked, “What are they doing so far out here? Are they hunters or something?”
“N-no!” Khalid exclaimed, “They’re b-b-b-bandits!”
“Bandits!” Imoen protested. “But it’s going to pour! What are they doing out in this weather?”
“I don’t know,” Jaheira admitted. “But we cannot afford to find out. Quickly now, before they--no! Damn it all, they’ve spotted us!”
As if to confirm what she said, the blast of a loud horn came from the group of riders and suddenly the blurry figures began to move towards them at great speed. There could be no doubt as to what they were or what their intent was. From far away, the calls of other horns could be heard.
“What do we do?” Imoen asked.
“We fight stupid girl!” Montaron said even as he drew his short sword. “Been too long since I had a bit of action for me steel!”
“No!” Khalid said, “We, we have to f-flee!”
Jaheira scowled at Khalid. “There are but a half dozen. Even on horses, they can be dealt with. I…”
“J-Jaheira!” Khalid protested. “Th-the horns! The h-h-horns!”
Jaheira stopped, then listened. The rest of them did too. Far away, they could hear horns. Several horns and they seemed to be from different directions. Jaheira’s face grew pale. She spun around, as if searching for something. She found it east of them, toward the coast. She pointed toward a wide stand of trees. “There! There is an old lake there. Fisherman’s Lake, I believe the locals call it. We will seek shelter there. Come! We must hurry! The storm may yet save us!”
They company didn’t ask any questions. Not even Montaron. They followed the druidess’s lead toward the stand of trees, but it soon became apparent that the bandits would overtake them before they could reach the safety of the woods. They had only made it halfway when the bandits had reached the road they’d just abandoned.
Jaheira stopped and planted her staff in the ground with one hand. In the other she produced a small bushel of mistletoe. The rest of the company stopped, but she waved them on. “Keep going! I will slow them down!”
“N-no, J-J-Jaheira!” Khalid protested.
Jaheira shook her head. “Go! You cannot waste any time!”
“You can’t hold them on your own!” Abdel protested. He freed his hammer and shield and stood beside Jaheira. The rest of the company soon began to prepare for battle.
“You fools!” Jaheira screamed, “We do not stand a chance in an open field! Hurry!”
“We’re staying with you pointy ears!” Montaron shot back, “So do what you ought to do and stop arguing!”
Jaheira looked as though she wanted to argue, but took his advice. She waved the mistletoe and held her staff aloft. She chanted the words to one of her spells. Khalid produced his bow and Imoen had produced one that she had purchased in Beregost. Together, the two sent out shots of arrows at the oncoming bandits, though they were too far for their arrows to reach.
The bandits must have realized the company were mounting a defense, for they urged their horses to greater speeds as some of them drew swords and others produced their own bows. Abdel took a deep breath and brought up his new heater shield. He had no illusions as to his chances of stopping a mounted opponent.
Jaheira’s spell reached a crescendo. She lowered the tip of her staff at the leading bandit and spoke a word. From above, the grey clouds spat a bolt of lightning. The bolt struck the man atop, killing him almost instantly. The horse slammed into the soft mud, taking the two riders immediately behind the lead rider with them.
Surprise and alarm caused the riders to break off their charge, but they had moved too close. Imoen and Khalid loosed arrows and together, brought down a fourth rider. The remaining two abandoned the attack and turned to flee, but not before a second bolt of lightning, at Jaheira’s urging, struck one of them dead. The other took off at full speed and seemed to escape the range of Jaheira’s magic, for she instead directed the third bolt at one of the dismounted riders, who had seemingly survived his fall with a broken shoulder.
“You did it!” Imoen cried.
“No, I delayed them.” Jaheira said. With her staff, she indicated two blobs of motion far away across the plains. One was north of them, one south, coming from the west. “There are many more. The rider that escaped will send them our way.”
“Can’t you zap them too?” Imoen asked.
“No foolish child!” Jaheira scolded, “That was the greatest of my spells, I cannot soon call upon it again! And there are many more of them. Our only hope is to seek shelter within the woods. If we are fortunate, they will not pursue us far into the woods, but I sense a dark hand in this. Bandits would not be out in a storm like this. Not without good reason.”
“Then let’s stop yammering and start running!” Montaron said.
The company took the advice and they renewed their efforts to reach the woods. By then the rain had begun. It came first in the form of occasional heavy drops, but soon the rain poured down so hard and so quickly, that no amount of weather cloaks could have kept them dry. From across the plains, Abdel could see now three groups of riders approaching them at high speed. He wondered if they would dare to enter the woods to find them.
“Keep going!” Jaheira told them as they passed into the woods, “These trees are too far apart, they will have no trouble in maneuvering around us and attacking! Look for any thick cluster of trees! That will slow them down, but leave us unhindered!”
The wind grew strong. Loose twigs and leaves were picked up and flung through the air like an angry swarm of bees, almost blinding the company. Branches crashed down from trees to crash onto the ground. Lightning flashed and split trees. Fearful of the storm’s ferocity, the company slowed their pace. Abdel had never seen a storm so fierce. He was not so sure that they should have taken cover in the woods.
“Keep going damn it!” Jaheira yelled to the others.
“There’s too much wind!” Abdel yelled back at her, “We can’t see where we’re going!”
“Stop your bellyaching!” Montaron yelled. The halfling had taken the lead of the pack; his low stature had seemingly made it easier for him to navigate in the crazy wind.
“They come! They come!” Xzar yelled.
Abdel did not heed the mage at first, but when Montaron echoed his words, Abdel understood. He looked behind them and saw the bandits entering the woods. There must have been a dozen of them. They had no bows out, but had drawn swords and clubs. They moved at a moderate pace, trying to more carefully navigate the woods. When they spotted the company, one man shouted something and gestured towards them with a drawn sword. The bandits quickly broke out into a slow charge.
“To arms!” Abdel cried to the others. In moments, his shield and hammer were out. The others followed his example.
The bandits charged. They had made it no more than a hundred yards in their direction when a small bead of fire shot past Abdel. The wind caused the bead to veer off-course; it drifted towards the left flank and struck one of the far left riders. A great fireball erupted into life. It expanded, engulfing half the riders. A half dozen bandits and their horses hit the ground, charred beyond recognition. The grass had been burnt, the rain and water had been transformed into a cloud of steam.
Half of the bandits lost their nerve, but the remaining three urged their horses into a full charge. One veered toward Abdel, a sword in hand. Abdel tried to evade the rider, but he was too quick. Sword came down and met Abdel’s heater shield. Abdel’s shield was no match for the momentum of the rider. The shield splintered and Abdel was thrown painfully to the ground as the horse flew by.
Abdel scrambled to his feet. The rider was already turning his horse around sharply--too sharply. His horse had reached patch of thick, slippery mud. The horse, accustomed to following any order given by its rider, made the turn too eagerly and lost its footing. The horse went hard to the ground, its rider tumbling off.
Abdel was on the down rider in seconds. The rider raised his sword to fend off the coming blow, but Abdel swatted it away with his hammer. The rider yelped and his arm spasmed and lost the sword. Abdel’s next stroke smashed the bandit’s skull in.
Around him, the fight had grown chaotic. Khalid lay in a patch of mud, bleeding profously all over his tunic. Jaheira stood over him. She had discarded her staff and drawn her scimitar and taken up her shield to fight one of the riders, who would ride around on his worse to take swings at her. They were not too accurate, but even the most glancing blow would send the half-elf stumbling. It was only a matter of time before she made a mistake or grew too tired.
“Jaheira!” Abdel yelled. He ran toward her to help, but was nearly beheaded by another rider; the other bandits had regained their wits.
The rider turned and began to make another pass, but something small and fast leapt down from a tree branch and landed atop the rider. It was Montaron. With a mad howl, he drove a dagger into the man’s back twice. The rider jerked and the horse bucked. Both men were thrown clear.
“Abdel! Help!”
Abdel turned to see Imoen. She had managed to find safety between three close growing trees. A bandit had tried to get at her; the fresh chop of sword blade into the tree trunk and branches were obvious. He had given up on that though and had dismounted and advanced on Imoen by foot.
Imoen had drawn her own blade, but Abdel could see the blade shake as Imoen tried to take up one of the basic defensive stances that Jaheira had shown her. Abdel looked back to Jaheira; she fended off yet another attack from the bandit rider, but already he was circling back for another run.
“Abdel! Help!” Imoen screamed.
Abdel looked to see that the bandit was already at the trees and testing Imoen’s defenses. His sword strokes came from a predictable overhead or underhand approach. Imoen blocked the blows, but each one sent her back a couple of steps and nearly knocked her off-balance. Abdel knew she would not last long.
Abdel raced toward the bandit. By the time he had reached them, the bandit had penetrated the circle of trees and had pushed Imoen into thick branches. Imoen screamed and tried to defend herself by holding her sword up. The bandit laughed, adjusted his stance and prepared to stab past her guard and into her belly.
“Raaawww!” Abdel screamed.
The bandit jerked around in surprise. He turned and presented a basic defensive stance. Abdel came at the branches and swung wildly, but found his hammer catching on branches and leaves. It bounced backwards, the momentum forcing him back several steps--and saving him from being impaled by the bandit. Abdel suddenly realized why the bandit had only used overhead and underhand strikes; the branches and trunks made any other maneuver risky.
Despite the numbness in his hands and his natural inclination to surrender ground to recover, Abdel let out another roar and rushed forward. The bandit retreated a few steps out of caution. Abdel came at him with an overhanded blow, one that the bandit avoided. The bandit swung back, but as Abdel had predicted, the bandit had kept to his vertical line to avoid as many branches as he could. Abdel had enough time to fall back, then pressed forward with another one of his swings.
The bandit evaded and made an upwards thrust at Abdel. It had been a quick stab and poorly aimed, slicing across the front of Abdel’s gambeson and onto the side. Pain flashed and Abdel stumbled backwards in surprise. The bandit’s sword came away crimson. He grinned into Abdel’s face and Abdel knew then that the man would murder him. From below the bandit’s own gambeson erupted a crimson point.
The bandit gasped. He looked down to find inches of steel sticking out his front. From behind, Imoen had thrusted her arming sword through the entirety of his body. The blade stayed for a moment. Abdel and the bandit stared at it. Then just as quickly as it had appeared, the blade retracted itself and the bandit was shoved from behind. Imoen stood over him, face pale and lips trembling.
“Imoen!” Abdel called, “Are you okay?” he asked.
Imoen nodded, “Yes, I’m--Abdel, you’re bleeding!”
Abdel had forgotten. He looked down. He couldn’t feel the wound too much then. Abdel wasn’t sure why, but he hoped it wasn’t his death. He would need to get Jaheira to…
“Jaheira!” Abdel cried. He turned and saw the half-elf was still standing, though she had lost her shield and the arm that had held it was bloody. She still clutched onto her sword. Around her rode the rider upon his horse, unharmed.
Abdel didn’t stop to think. He bolted straight for the rider. The rider came around and with a great swing, caught Jaheira’s sword with his own. She let out a cry and the scimitar flew out of her hand. The half-elf lost her footing and fell atop her wounded husband, who now did not move. The rider made a slow trot of it as he circled for the final blow. The horse sped up and the rider leaned down, enough so that his sword would cleave through the woman, if not her and her husband in one stroke.
Abdel came in from the riders flank. The rider had been so focused on his coup d'etat that he had not seen Abdel until it was too late. Abdel leapt as the rider came by and grabbed hold of the man. The bandit screamed and struggled. Abdel was pulled along for the ride. The two struggled, but eventually Abdel’s weight pulled the bandit down to the ground with him. The horse panicked and bucked them both.
The two rolled painfully, separated and got to their feet. Both had lost their weapons. Abdel found the carving knife he always kept on himself. The bandit found a long, thin-tipped dagger. The bandit grinned and tossed the dagger between both his hands, impressing upon Abdel his skill. Abdel took a deep breath and tried not to lose his cool. He was bigger than the bandit, but his blade was shorter and not meant for thrusting, let alone killing. Abdel was wounded, the bandit mostly just bruised.
“You gonna die pretty boy!” the bandit hissed. He came at Abdel.
Abdel jerked back and flashed his steel, but the bandit had not pressed the attack. Instead he had held back and laughed. “Nervous?” the bandit mocked.
Abdel gripped his knife more tightly than before. The bandit sneered and came at Abdel again. Abdel’s slash was had more control, but it was still wild. The bandit laughed and made for several stabs. Abdel narrowly avoided all of them and wasn’t able to offer any counter-attack of his own. The bandit laughed again and came at Abdel, his blade a slight yellow-orange. Abdel avoided the first few jabs, but the last slipped past his guard and caught him in the abdomen.
Terrible pain as the hot knife pierced into him, the muscles slowed the stab and his own backwards momentum kept it from going too deep; perhaps only an inch had gone in. Abdel stumbled backwards all the same, shocked at the blow. His heart pounded and he thought for sure that he would not escape. He silently prayed that someone--anyone would help him. As he thought this, he noticed the dagger in the bandit’s hand had taken on a red glow.
The bandit yelped and dropped the dagger, his hand seared red. Behind the bandit, Jaheira held up her mistletoe in her bloodied arm and was speaking the words to a spell. The bandit cursed. The bandit looked up at Abdel, alarm in his face. Abdel stared back into the bandit and saw the bravado had melted. The realization that the tables had turned and he was about to die. Something in Abdel shifted then.
Abdel tossed away his carving knife and raised his fists. The bandit stared at him in surprise, then grinned and raised his own fists. “C’mon then, you stupid whoreson!”
Abdel went at the man hard. His first blow caught the man by surprise, catching him across the nose and shattering it. The bandit recovered quickly though and delivered two quick blows to Abdel’s gut. Abdel had never feared getting punched there; his abs were like a second shield.
Pain exploded there. Abdel doubled over and another punch across the face sent him sprawling. The bandit had hit his stab wound. The bandit leapt on Abdel, pinning one of his arms with his own leg and his fists going for the face. Abdel blocked what he could with one arm, but there was little he could do.
Contrary to how he should have felt; Abdel did not panic. He endured the blows and instead used his greater weight and strength to shift the bandit’s over. The bandit jerked and tied to hold his balance, but the mud left his other leg with little traction to save himself. The bandit rolled and the two found themselves awkwardly locked. For a brief moment the two struggled. Abdel’s muscles strained, his abdomen and side burned in agony, but he refused to surrender.
The bandit struggled to keep the lock, but soon his muscles shook with exhaustion and then failed. Abdel rolled onto the man and punched him in the face with as much strength as he could muster. He felt the jawbone crack, felt the head snap back. The bandit had been knocked senseless. Abdel looked for something--and found it; a rock about twice as thick as his fist. He grabbed it, yanked it from the wet mud and slammed it down upon the man’s face until he had caved in the skull.
The world had seemingly gone quiet. Abdel turned and saw that there were no more living bandits. Several horses fled through the woods. Jaheira half-sat, half-lay atop her husband, with Imoen trying to tend to both of them. Xzar was stumbling through a bush, a bloody dagger in his hand. Montaron had extracted himself from his own struggle. The halfling was caked in blood and mud, but looked satisfied.
Abdel turned back to the dead bandit and saw Gorion’s own crushed head. Abdel yelped. He dropped the rock and leaped off his father--only to realize it wasn’t his father, but the bandit. For a moment, Abdel could only stare at the ruined skull of his enemy. He looked down at the rock he had used to commit the deed and shuddered.
Chapter Nine
The company had survived the attack, but just barely.. Jaheira was able to close both of Abdel’s wounds and see to her own arm, but Khalid had been badly wounded. Even with Jaheira’s healing, she could just keep him from dying. Xzar and Montaron had been unwounded, but both looked exhausted. According to the halfling, Xzar had expended most of his magic in the fight.
“What do we do now?” Imoen asked Jaheira as she frantically tried to bind her husband’s wounds.
“How the hell should I know?” Jahiera snapped at the girl.
“Imoen, just...just be quiet.” Abdel said as he clumsily tried to aid Jaheira in her work. It wasn’t looking good.
Imoen flushed, but Montaron spoke first. “The girl is right. We can’t stay here. More of those bandits will be here soon. We stay here and we’ll all be split from head to groin. And they’ll do much worse to these women.”
“We can’t move him!” Jaheira snapped at the halfling. “If we move him, he will die.”
“Then we leave him” Montaron said.
“What!” Jaheira screamed.
“He’s dead either way,” Montaron reasoned, “They won’t spare him for your sake. They’ll make him watch as they tie you down and--”
“Shut up!” Jaheira screeched. She got to her feet, ready to throw herself at the halfling, who had gone for his sword.
“Enough!” Abdel yelled. He stepped between the two.
Everyone turned to him. Somehow, Abdel felt as though the weight of the company had fallen on him. He took a deep breath and looked at Khalid. He knew that moving Khalid could kill him, but he also knew that Montaron was right. They could not risk staying. For the briefest of moments, Abdel hoped that they might leave him behind. It made no sense to die together and if they took him with, it would only prolong his suffering. And he would slow them down.
“What should we do?” Jaheira asked him.
Abdel looked and saw that she had been crying. He hadn’t noticed it before with the rain and wind. He suddenly felt ashamed for his earlier thoughts. He took a deep breath. He looked to Montaron, “We’re going.”
Montaron grinned. Abdel turned to Jaheira, who was too shocked to speak. “But we’re taking him with us. No one gets left behind.”
“We won’t make any time with him dragging us down!” Montaron protested.
“I’ll carry him,” Abdel said. “He isn’t that heavy.”
“Bah!” Montaron cursed.
“Jaheira, Imoen.” Abdel said, ignoring the halfling. He shed his backpack. “Get him on my back.”
The two carefully helped Khalid onto Abdel’s back. Imoen took up his pack and Jaheira retrieved her husband’s bow and quiver. “Leave them,” Abdel told her, “We need to travel as light as possible.”
Jaheira did not listen. Instead she said, “If you follow this direction, you will find a large lake. Move around to the south side to the east where tree cover is thickest. It is slower, but they will not find you. On the east side, you will find an old cabin. There is no provisions there save perhaps some firewood and blankets.”
Abel stared at her. “How do you know this?”
“Rangers maintain a cabin there,” Jaheira told him. “On the north eastern shore there are two old fishermen who live in a larger cabin. They are honest men. Get Khalid to the ranger’s cabin. If I do not make it by dawn, go to the fishermen and have them send word to Beregost. Send it to Ormyr. Tell him what has happened and that it is my last wish that Khalid be saved. Understood?”
“What do you mean if you don’t make it?” Abdel asked. “We’re all going.”
“We won’t make it with Khalid slowing us down.” Jaheira told him. “I will stay and slow them down.”
“No! You--” Abdel began, but Montaron held up a hand.
“She’s right lad.” he said. He pointed out to the edge of the woods. Far away, Abdel thought he might have made out moving forms. “We can’t outrun them with him in tow.”
“No!” Abel yelled. “Absolutely not! We’re all in this together!”
“Don’t be foolish you stupid boy!” Jaheira snarled. “I know these woods better than you and I can move as silently as a shadow! I am the only one who can do this. Now go!”
Abdel looked to the others, but found no support. Montaron and Xzar fully supported Jaheira’s idea. Imoen looked away, unable or unwilling to say anything. Abdel cursed. “Alright then, fine!”
The company continued without Jaheira. Abdel had not gone a minute before he turned back to see if Jaheira might change her mind, but to his astonishment, she was gone. “Where did she go?” he asked.
“Stop dilly dallying and let’s go!” Montaron snarled. “We ain’t got time for anymore arguing!”
Abdel lingered for only a second longer before he turned and followed the others.
********
The company hurried down the path without Jaheira. She watched them go, her eyes upon her husband. Her gaze shifted to Abdel, who carried him. He has such a perfect body, she found herself thinking. She regretted the thought immediately. She shook her head. I’ve already made my choice.
Jaheira pushed the conflicting emotions down and away from her sight. It doesn’t matter anymore, she told herself, I’m not going to live past this. They’ll mourn me and move on. As is the Circle of Life.
Tears welled up and she felt on the edge of a breakdown. Her hands and knees shook and she thought for a moment that she’d collapse right there. Her fingers dug into the wood and she forced herself to remain standing. She shook her head and drove the anger, remorse, and pity from her mind. Life and death are a part of nature in equal parts. Gods die. Nations die. Dragons die. Khalid will die. Abdel will die. Those damn bandits will die. I will die.
Jaheira felt herself come back under control. When she opened her eyes, she felt as strong and sturdy as iron. Her breathing was slow and deep. She looked back the way they had come. Far away she thought she could see the blurry shapes of the bandits. She took stock of her options and adjusted her cloak. It was not just any cloak; it had been made by the elves of Suldanessellar. The cloak allowed the wearer to blend in with their surroundings. With the hood pulled up, Jaheira was practically invisible, so long as she did not make any sudden movements.
“They will not pass,” she promised herself.
The riders came minutes later. Jaheira counted nine of them; more than she could hope to defeat upon her own. Jaheira waited until after they had passed her position before she drew back her arrow and let her arrow fly into the neck of one of the lead riders. The bandits fell into immediate chaos, pulling to a sharp stop and looking for the source of the attack.
Jaheira remained still and observed the riders. Some drew weapons, others looked ready to bolt. One of the bandits started barking out orders to the rest. Jahiera marked him and reached for another arrow. Slowly and carefully, she knocked the arrow and adjusted her aim. She took a deep breath and released the arrow.
The arrow flew true, striking the bandit leader in the breast. The mail protecting it burst upon the arrow’s impact. The bandit leader shrieked and fell from his horse. Two of the bandits pointed in her direction. Jaheira leapt to her feet and ran. The bandits pursued. Jaheira didn’t run far. She found a large tree and ran behind it. She stopped cold and drew into a low crouch. She wainted until the seven remaining riders erupted past her, searching for where she had gone. One of the bandits began to issue out orders. The others responded quickly.
Jaheira smiled and drew another arrow from her quiver. The new leader of the bandits was no more than a dozen yards away. She waited until he had finished giving out an order, then released her arrow. The arrow flew and caught him through the skull. The leader slid off his horse and fell with a heavy thump. Jaheira picked out another arrow, but did not knock it. She stayed perfectly still.
Shouts. Two of the others had realized that their new leader had died. They came back at full speed, shouting to the others. Jaheira picked out the loudest and more intimidating of the two and let her arrow fly. The arrow caught him below the throat and penetrated his gambeson. The bandit gave a hoarse cry and fell from his horse, even as it continued to run. The other rider drew up short and found Jaheira by the tree.
“Here! Here!” he cried to the others. “She’s a witch! By the tree! Hurry!”
Jaheira quickly drew up another arrow and let it fly, but the bandit had dropped to lay flat atop his horse and the arrow flew harmlessly over his head. Jaheria turned and ran. The bandit was hot on her feet. She heard the sound of his sword coming free and knew that she was in danger. She spotted two narrow trees and made for them. Behind her the sound of hooves grew louder. Twenty yards...ten...five...Jaheira leaped through the gap between the two trees. Behind her she felt the breeze from a sword strike and the thunk of steel on wood.
Jaheira rolled and turned to see the bandit rear up his horse and move around the trees. He would be able to make another run on her. She tensed, intent on making another roll through the trees, but from the corner of her eye she saw the other four bandits coming her way. The bandit followed her gaze and grinned.
“That’s right bitch, there’s no escape.” he pointed his sword at Jaheira. “Now lay down your weapons and we might see to it that you live.”
Jaheira didn’t like the gleam in her eyes, but she threw down the bow and the quiver. She bent her head and reached to her belt. She grabbed hold of the mistletoe at her belt. She began to chant in a low voice.
“Hey! The sword too!” the bandit yelled. “You hear me? Drop it or I run you down!”
With her free hand, Jaheira freed her scimitar and tossed just out of arm’s reach. She did not look up, but continued to speak the rest of her spell. Not far away, she could hear the sound of hooves, muffled only by the rain and thunder.
“Alright, stand up. Put your hands up. No surprises now.” when Jaheira did not immediately obey, the bandit grew angry. “Hey! Up! I said get up! Or I’ll trample you!”
Jaheira completed her spell. Slowly she got to her feet. The bandit looked to the mistletoe in her hand. He snorted, “What, you think you’re going to poison me?”
“It’s mistletoe,” Jaheira told him.
The bandit snorted. “Throw it away.”
Jaheira looked down and locked eyes with the horse. “Throw him.” she said in the language of the druids.
The horse reared up and threw the startled bandit from its back. Jaheira heard bones crack when the bandit landed. She leapt and grabbed her scimitar and leaped onto the horse in his place. “Take me to the north of the lake!” she commanded the horse.
The horse turned and ran. The other four bandits pursued her. Jaheira held on by wrapping the arm she held her sword in around the horse’s neck and with her other hand, she moved her mistletoe through a complex pattern as she recited another spell. Behind her came the other four riders, shouting and cursing.
Jaheira completed the spell, but nothing happened. Jaheira cursed. The storm was too heavy. She looked back in time to see that one of the bandits had drawn a bow and loosed an arrow. The arrow struck the hindquarters of Jaheira’s horse. The horse jerked and bucked. Jaheira tried to call to the horse, but she was thrown off.
Jaheira hit mud and rolled until she crashed into a log. The bandits surrounded her and dismounted.Bruised and battered but otherwise unharmed, Jaheira got to her feet and drew her scimitar. The four bandits drew close. Jaheira eyed each of them. If they all attacked at once, she had no hope of escaping. Then one drew her attention; his nose resembled the snout of a pig and his skin had a grey tint to it. His canines were larger than what was normal.
“You die first, orc-bastard,” she spat at the man.
That did it. The orc-kin snarled and charged. Jaheira caught his blade with hers in mid-stroke, pushed it to the side and drove it through the front of his gambeson, into his stomach, and out of his lower back. The bandit’s snarl turned into a terrified scream. Jaheira pushed him off her scimitar with a kick and a shove.
“Whose next?” Jaheira said to the other three.
Two of the other men looked doubtful, but the third--a man in his forties, seemed more confident. “Hold lads! She can’t fight all three of us at once!”
“But...but Jasper she just killed Jacob...and Dell...and…”
“They were stupid!” the bandit snarled. “Now move! She can’t overpower all three of us. And take her alive. She’ll pay for what she did to our boys!”
A gleam came in their eyes that Jaheira did not like. She held up her sword, but saw that it would be pointless. Even if she killed one, she would not be able to kill them all before they overwhelmed her. She threw down her scimitar at their feet. “You win.” she said. “I know when I am bested.”
The three bandits looked at the scimitar, then Jaheira. One of them grinned and started forward, “Alright elf bitch, I know how you can--”
Jasper slapped his thigh with the flat of his sword, bringing out a cry of pain. “Are you stupid? Didn’t you see her with Frank? She surrendered to him too! She’s a witch! Go secure the horses before she enchants them.”
Jasper turned to the other one. “I’m gonna tie her up. If she does anything, run her through, you got it?”
The other man nodded. Jasper turned to her. “Alright pointy ears. This is your last chance. You make any gestures or speak any strange words and my buddy hear runs you through, got it?”
Jaheira met his gaze. “I understand.”
Jasper drew out a length of rope. He nodded to the other man, who pointed the tip of his sword at Jaheira's chest. Jasper walked in a wide circle around and came up behind her. He roughly grabbed her wrists and began to bind them. As he did, Jaheira gently slipped a leg around his and stiffened against him. Jasper grunted. Jaheira felt something stiff press into her lower backside. Jaheira began to silently mouth in the language of elves.
“Watch out Jasper!” the other bandit screamed and lunged.
Jaheira twisted, using the leverage to help her pivot and pull Jasper between her and the other bandit. The bandit’s blade instead pierced Jasper through the side. The bandit leader let out a scream of pain. The other bandit gasped and let go of his sword. The hold on Jaheira was released. She gave the dying Jasper a good boot to the ass.
“Jasper! Jasper!” the bandit cried. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it!”
Jaheira freed her hands and still clutching her mistletoe, she began to chant the words to one of the few remaining spells left to her. As she finished, she held up the mistletoe over her head and the small bushel erupted into flame, the flames extended and became the vague shape of a sword. Rain hissed as it struck the blade.
The grieving bandit suddenly remembered her. He turned and gasped at the flame sword in her hand. He gaped at her. Jaheira drove the sword through his open mouth and pulled it up through his skull. The blade sliced through the skull, leaving smoldering bone and flesh. The bandit dropped dead next to Jasper.
Jaheira turned and saw the other bandit. Ashen faced, the bandit leaped upon one of the horses he had been securing and took off into the woods. Jaheira watched him go.
“Not bad pointy ears.”
Pain exploded in Jaheira’s left thigh. She gasped and looked down to see the tip of a blade sticking out of her leg. She stumbled and fell into the mud. She tried to get up, but something heavy hit her square in the back and her face was driven into the mud. She tried to rise again, tried to call forth a spell that might save her, but hand grabbed her roughly by the hair and drove it back into the mud several times.
Her attacker twisted her head back so she could see. She stared wide-eyed into Montaron’s face. He gave her a nasty grin. “I guess I got to stick you after all pointy ears. Don't worry love, your husband will see you soon.”
Montaron shoved her head back into the mud. Jaheira lay there for a long moment, waiting for the final blow. It didn’t come. Slowly, Jaheira lifted her head from the mud. She felt light headed. She looked down at her leg and saw that she was bleeding profusely. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. The dizziness grew worse.
Jaheira’s head swayed. Khalid...I’m sorry…
Jaheira felt herself hit the mud and the darkness washed over her.
The company had survived the attack, but just barely.. Jaheira was able to close both of Abdel’s wounds and see to her own arm, but Khalid had been badly wounded. Even with Jaheira’s healing, she could just keep him from dying. Xzar and Montaron had been unwounded, but both looked exhausted. According to the halfling, Xzar had expended most of his magic in the fight.
“What do we do now?” Imoen asked Jaheira as she frantically tried to bind her husband’s wounds.
“How the hell should I know?” Jahiera snapped at the girl.
“Imoen, just...just be quiet.” Abdel said as he clumsily tried to aid Jaheira in her work. It wasn’t looking good.
Imoen flushed, but Montaron spoke first. “The girl is right. We can’t stay here. More of those bandits will be here soon. We stay here and we’ll all be split from head to groin. And they’ll do much worse to these women.”
“We can’t move him!” Jaheira snapped at the halfling. “If we move him, he will die.”
“Then we leave him” Montaron said.
“What!” Jaheira screamed.
“He’s dead either way,” Montaron reasoned, “They won’t spare him for your sake. They’ll make him watch as they tie you down and--”
“Shut up!” Jaheira screeched. She got to her feet, ready to throw herself at the halfling, who had gone for his sword.
“Enough!” Abdel yelled. He stepped between the two.
Everyone turned to him. Somehow, Abdel felt as though the weight of the company had fallen on him. He took a deep breath and looked at Khalid. He knew that moving Khalid could kill him, but he also knew that Montaron was right. They could not risk staying. For the briefest of moments, Abdel hoped that they might leave him behind. It made no sense to die together and if they took him with, it would only prolong his suffering. And he would slow them down.
“What should we do?” Jaheira asked him.
Abdel looked and saw that she had been crying. He hadn’t noticed it before with the rain and wind. He suddenly felt ashamed for his earlier thoughts. He took a deep breath. He looked to Montaron, “We’re going.”
Montaron grinned. Abdel turned to Jaheira, who was too shocked to speak. “But we’re taking him with us. No one gets left behind.”
“We won’t make any time with him dragging us down!” Montaron protested.
“I’ll carry him,” Abdel said. “He isn’t that heavy.”
“Bah!” Montaron cursed.
“Jaheira, Imoen.” Abdel said, ignoring the halfling. He shed his backpack. “Get him on my back.”
The two carefully helped Khalid onto Abdel’s back. Imoen took up his pack and Jaheira retrieved her husband’s bow and quiver. “Leave them,” Abdel told her, “We need to travel as light as possible.”
Jaheira did not listen. Instead she said, “If you follow this direction, you will find a large lake. Move around to the south side to the east where tree cover is thickest. It is slower, but they will not find you. On the east side, you will find an old cabin. There is no provisions there save perhaps some firewood and blankets.”
Abel stared at her. “How do you know this?”
“Rangers maintain a cabin there,” Jaheira told him. “On the north eastern shore there are two old fishermen who live in a larger cabin. They are honest men. Get Khalid to the ranger’s cabin. If I do not make it by dawn, go to the fishermen and have them send word to Beregost. Send it to Ormyr. Tell him what has happened and that it is my last wish that Khalid be saved. Understood?”
“What do you mean if you don’t make it?” Abdel asked. “We’re all going.”
“We won’t make it with Khalid slowing us down.” Jaheira told him. “I will stay and slow them down.”
“No! You--” Abdel began, but Montaron held up a hand.
“She’s right lad.” he said. He pointed out to the edge of the woods. Far away, Abdel thought he might have made out moving forms. “We can’t outrun them with him in tow.”
“No!” Abel yelled. “Absolutely not! We’re all in this together!”
“Don’t be foolish you stupid boy!” Jaheira snarled. “I know these woods better than you and I can move as silently as a shadow! I am the only one who can do this. Now go!”
Abdel looked to the others, but found no support. Montaron and Xzar fully supported Jaheira’s idea. Imoen looked away, unable or unwilling to say anything. Abdel cursed. “Alright then, fine!”
The company continued without Jaheira. Abdel had not gone a minute before he turned back to see if Jaheira might change her mind, but to his astonishment, she was gone. “Where did she go?” he asked.
“Stop dilly dallying and let’s go!” Montaron snarled. “We ain’t got time for anymore arguing!”
Abdel lingered for only a second longer before he turned and followed the others.
********
The company hurried down the path without Jaheira. She watched them go, her eyes upon her husband. Her gaze shifted to Abdel, who carried him. He has such a perfect body, she found herself thinking. She regretted the thought immediately. She shook her head. I’ve already made my choice.
Jaheira pushed the conflicting emotions down and away from her sight. It doesn’t matter anymore, she told herself, I’m not going to live past this. They’ll mourn me and move on. As is the Circle of Life.
Tears welled up and she felt on the edge of a breakdown. Her hands and knees shook and she thought for a moment that she’d collapse right there. Her fingers dug into the wood and she forced herself to remain standing. She shook her head and drove the anger, remorse, and pity from her mind. Life and death are a part of nature in equal parts. Gods die. Nations die. Dragons die. Khalid will die. Abdel will die. Those damn bandits will die. I will die.
Jaheira felt herself come back under control. When she opened her eyes, she felt as strong and sturdy as iron. Her breathing was slow and deep. She looked back the way they had come. Far away she thought she could see the blurry shapes of the bandits. She took stock of her options and adjusted her cloak. It was not just any cloak; it had been made by the elves of Suldanessellar. The cloak allowed the wearer to blend in with their surroundings. With the hood pulled up, Jaheira was practically invisible, so long as she did not make any sudden movements.
“They will not pass,” she promised herself.
The riders came minutes later. Jaheira counted nine of them; more than she could hope to defeat upon her own. Jaheira waited until after they had passed her position before she drew back her arrow and let her arrow fly into the neck of one of the lead riders. The bandits fell into immediate chaos, pulling to a sharp stop and looking for the source of the attack.
Jaheira remained still and observed the riders. Some drew weapons, others looked ready to bolt. One of the bandits started barking out orders to the rest. Jahiera marked him and reached for another arrow. Slowly and carefully, she knocked the arrow and adjusted her aim. She took a deep breath and released the arrow.
The arrow flew true, striking the bandit leader in the breast. The mail protecting it burst upon the arrow’s impact. The bandit leader shrieked and fell from his horse. Two of the bandits pointed in her direction. Jaheira leapt to her feet and ran. The bandits pursued. Jaheira didn’t run far. She found a large tree and ran behind it. She stopped cold and drew into a low crouch. She wainted until the seven remaining riders erupted past her, searching for where she had gone. One of the bandits began to issue out orders. The others responded quickly.
Jaheira smiled and drew another arrow from her quiver. The new leader of the bandits was no more than a dozen yards away. She waited until he had finished giving out an order, then released her arrow. The arrow flew and caught him through the skull. The leader slid off his horse and fell with a heavy thump. Jaheira picked out another arrow, but did not knock it. She stayed perfectly still.
Shouts. Two of the others had realized that their new leader had died. They came back at full speed, shouting to the others. Jaheira picked out the loudest and more intimidating of the two and let her arrow fly. The arrow caught him below the throat and penetrated his gambeson. The bandit gave a hoarse cry and fell from his horse, even as it continued to run. The other rider drew up short and found Jaheira by the tree.
“Here! Here!” he cried to the others. “She’s a witch! By the tree! Hurry!”
Jaheira quickly drew up another arrow and let it fly, but the bandit had dropped to lay flat atop his horse and the arrow flew harmlessly over his head. Jaheria turned and ran. The bandit was hot on her feet. She heard the sound of his sword coming free and knew that she was in danger. She spotted two narrow trees and made for them. Behind her the sound of hooves grew louder. Twenty yards...ten...five...Jaheira leaped through the gap between the two trees. Behind her she felt the breeze from a sword strike and the thunk of steel on wood.
Jaheira rolled and turned to see the bandit rear up his horse and move around the trees. He would be able to make another run on her. She tensed, intent on making another roll through the trees, but from the corner of her eye she saw the other four bandits coming her way. The bandit followed her gaze and grinned.
“That’s right bitch, there’s no escape.” he pointed his sword at Jaheira. “Now lay down your weapons and we might see to it that you live.”
Jaheira didn’t like the gleam in her eyes, but she threw down the bow and the quiver. She bent her head and reached to her belt. She grabbed hold of the mistletoe at her belt. She began to chant in a low voice.
“Hey! The sword too!” the bandit yelled. “You hear me? Drop it or I run you down!”
With her free hand, Jaheira freed her scimitar and tossed just out of arm’s reach. She did not look up, but continued to speak the rest of her spell. Not far away, she could hear the sound of hooves, muffled only by the rain and thunder.
“Alright, stand up. Put your hands up. No surprises now.” when Jaheira did not immediately obey, the bandit grew angry. “Hey! Up! I said get up! Or I’ll trample you!”
Jaheira completed her spell. Slowly she got to her feet. The bandit looked to the mistletoe in her hand. He snorted, “What, you think you’re going to poison me?”
“It’s mistletoe,” Jaheira told him.
The bandit snorted. “Throw it away.”
Jaheira looked down and locked eyes with the horse. “Throw him.” she said in the language of the druids.
The horse reared up and threw the startled bandit from its back. Jaheira heard bones crack when the bandit landed. She leapt and grabbed her scimitar and leaped onto the horse in his place. “Take me to the north of the lake!” she commanded the horse.
The horse turned and ran. The other four bandits pursued her. Jaheira held on by wrapping the arm she held her sword in around the horse’s neck and with her other hand, she moved her mistletoe through a complex pattern as she recited another spell. Behind her came the other four riders, shouting and cursing.
Jaheira completed the spell, but nothing happened. Jaheira cursed. The storm was too heavy. She looked back in time to see that one of the bandits had drawn a bow and loosed an arrow. The arrow struck the hindquarters of Jaheira’s horse. The horse jerked and bucked. Jaheira tried to call to the horse, but she was thrown off.
Jaheira hit mud and rolled until she crashed into a log. The bandits surrounded her and dismounted.Bruised and battered but otherwise unharmed, Jaheira got to her feet and drew her scimitar. The four bandits drew close. Jaheira eyed each of them. If they all attacked at once, she had no hope of escaping. Then one drew her attention; his nose resembled the snout of a pig and his skin had a grey tint to it. His canines were larger than what was normal.
“You die first, orc-bastard,” she spat at the man.
That did it. The orc-kin snarled and charged. Jaheira caught his blade with hers in mid-stroke, pushed it to the side and drove it through the front of his gambeson, into his stomach, and out of his lower back. The bandit’s snarl turned into a terrified scream. Jaheira pushed him off her scimitar with a kick and a shove.
“Whose next?” Jaheira said to the other three.
Two of the other men looked doubtful, but the third--a man in his forties, seemed more confident. “Hold lads! She can’t fight all three of us at once!”
“But...but Jasper she just killed Jacob...and Dell...and…”
“They were stupid!” the bandit snarled. “Now move! She can’t overpower all three of us. And take her alive. She’ll pay for what she did to our boys!”
A gleam came in their eyes that Jaheira did not like. She held up her sword, but saw that it would be pointless. Even if she killed one, she would not be able to kill them all before they overwhelmed her. She threw down her scimitar at their feet. “You win.” she said. “I know when I am bested.”
The three bandits looked at the scimitar, then Jaheira. One of them grinned and started forward, “Alright elf bitch, I know how you can--”
Jasper slapped his thigh with the flat of his sword, bringing out a cry of pain. “Are you stupid? Didn’t you see her with Frank? She surrendered to him too! She’s a witch! Go secure the horses before she enchants them.”
Jasper turned to the other one. “I’m gonna tie her up. If she does anything, run her through, you got it?”
The other man nodded. Jasper turned to her. “Alright pointy ears. This is your last chance. You make any gestures or speak any strange words and my buddy hear runs you through, got it?”
Jaheira met his gaze. “I understand.”
Jasper drew out a length of rope. He nodded to the other man, who pointed the tip of his sword at Jaheira's chest. Jasper walked in a wide circle around and came up behind her. He roughly grabbed her wrists and began to bind them. As he did, Jaheira gently slipped a leg around his and stiffened against him. Jasper grunted. Jaheira felt something stiff press into her lower backside. Jaheira began to silently mouth in the language of elves.
“Watch out Jasper!” the other bandit screamed and lunged.
Jaheira twisted, using the leverage to help her pivot and pull Jasper between her and the other bandit. The bandit’s blade instead pierced Jasper through the side. The bandit leader let out a scream of pain. The other bandit gasped and let go of his sword. The hold on Jaheira was released. She gave the dying Jasper a good boot to the ass.
“Jasper! Jasper!” the bandit cried. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it!”
Jaheira freed her hands and still clutching her mistletoe, she began to chant the words to one of the few remaining spells left to her. As she finished, she held up the mistletoe over her head and the small bushel erupted into flame, the flames extended and became the vague shape of a sword. Rain hissed as it struck the blade.
The grieving bandit suddenly remembered her. He turned and gasped at the flame sword in her hand. He gaped at her. Jaheira drove the sword through his open mouth and pulled it up through his skull. The blade sliced through the skull, leaving smoldering bone and flesh. The bandit dropped dead next to Jasper.
Jaheira turned and saw the other bandit. Ashen faced, the bandit leaped upon one of the horses he had been securing and took off into the woods. Jaheira watched him go.
“Not bad pointy ears.”
Pain exploded in Jaheira’s left thigh. She gasped and looked down to see the tip of a blade sticking out of her leg. She stumbled and fell into the mud. She tried to get up, but something heavy hit her square in the back and her face was driven into the mud. She tried to rise again, tried to call forth a spell that might save her, but hand grabbed her roughly by the hair and drove it back into the mud several times.
Her attacker twisted her head back so she could see. She stared wide-eyed into Montaron’s face. He gave her a nasty grin. “I guess I got to stick you after all pointy ears. Don't worry love, your husband will see you soon.”
Montaron shoved her head back into the mud. Jaheira lay there for a long moment, waiting for the final blow. It didn’t come. Slowly, Jaheira lifted her head from the mud. She felt light headed. She looked down at her leg and saw that she was bleeding profusely. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. The dizziness grew worse.
Jaheira’s head swayed. Khalid...I’m sorry…
Jaheira felt herself hit the mud and the darkness washed over her.
My apologies for only producing 2 of the expected 3.
Alright, hope you all like the updates! I'm working on Chapter 10, but due to the late hour, I'm not sure I can get it done until maybe Tuesday night. Maybe I can get it up tonight, but between all the other stuff, plus the writing and editing, I thought I'd go ahead and put up the two chapters I already have. At the very least, it's an interesting place to leave off.
Anyway, hoping to have the third chapter up Tuesday and God willing, we will be back on track for traditional updates this Sunday.
Alright, hope you all like the updates! I'm working on Chapter 10, but due to the late hour, I'm not sure I can get it done until maybe Tuesday night. Maybe I can get it up tonight, but between all the other stuff, plus the writing and editing, I thought I'd go ahead and put up the two chapters I already have. At the very least, it's an interesting place to leave off.
Anyway, hoping to have the third chapter up Tuesday and God willing, we will be back on track for traditional updates this Sunday.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Damn, random encounters are much more difficult here and of course, evil seems to triumph because the good guys are unwilling to strike first.
Tryglaw
Well-known member
I would like to say thank you for the story, it's quite interesting, esp. as the main characters don't seem to mow down all the opposition they encounter, it's rare to see that.
Also, given your avatar I think you might like this here Renault commercial:
Chapter Ten
The storm hammered the company. They had started off quickly through the woods with Khalid. The company came upon the lake soon after leaving Jaheira. It was wide and calm and following her instructions, they followed it southward. The company’s pace was swift at first, despite the rain, wind, and mud, but as the distance wore on Abdel found the half-elf to be increasingly heavy. Abdel was certain that they would have no chance at saving the man. He thought of going back to get Jaheira, but immediately dismissed it. She would kill me if I let Khalid die. He thought and it brought him some measure of pain knowing that.
“Hey Abdel,” Imoen said, “You look tired, we should rest.”
Abdel shook his head. “No. We don’t have time for that. If we rest now, those bandits might catch up to us and Jaheira will have...will be angry.”
Imoen gave him a curious look. She looked back the way they’d come. “No sign of anything yet,” she said. She gave him a sidelong look. “She’ll be safe. It’s Jaheira. It’ll take more than a couple of those creeps to kill her.”
“I thought the same thing about Gorion.” Abdel said. “And how would we hear anything? It’s raining too hard.”
Abdel looked up and saw that Imoen was staring at him, wide-eyed. He suddenly realized what he’d just said. “Imoen, I’m sorry! I didn’t think--”
“You never do,” Imoen snapped. She turned and stormed off down the path.
Abdel cursed and caught up to her. “Imoen, just listen! I didn’t mean to say that, I’m--I’m just worried that Jaheira...won’t make it.”
Imoen shot him a glare. “You’re a real jerk sometimes Abdel. And stupid too. No wonder why Gorion never pushed you to become a mage like him.”
“I didn’t want to--” Abdel stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I know I can get tunnel vision sometimes. I know you were trying to help. I’m sorry I said that about...about Gorion.”
Imoen looked down. She didn’t talk for a while. When she did, the anger in her voice had been replaced with grief. “I hate all that has happened. Getting kicked out of Candlekeep...Gorion...those bandits...that ogre...that madman who tried to kill you...and now this. Lost in some woods with a mad wizard and a creepy halfling.”
“Imoen, I’m sorry.” Abdel said. “I’ll...I’ll make things better. You’ll see. And those two might nuts and weird, but at least we can count on them.”
Imoen looked behind them. Abdel followed her gaze and saw Xzar a few yards behind. The wizard was covered in mud and shouting at the wind and sky. Occasionally he would shake his fist. Abdel guessed him to be cursing the storm. Or maybe the god that brought the storm. He looked for Montaron, knowing that he would not be far behind, but saw no sign of him. Abdel frowned.
“Where is Montaron?” Abdel asked Imoen.
“How should I know?” Imoen asked. “He’s probably behind Xzar somewhere. You know how short his legs are.”
Abdel shook his head. “I don’t see him at all. Do you?”
“Maybe he’s covering our rear?” Imoen offered.
“That’s what Jaheira was doing.” Abdel said angrily. “Something has happened. Let’s go back. If we hurry we can--”
Imoen grabbed him firmly by the arm. “Abdel, we can’t go back now. We need to get Khalid to shelter or he will die.”
Abdel looked down at Imoen. “We won’t go back far. Just to make sure that he’s alright.”
“Montaron can look after himself.” Imoen told him. “Better than you or I can look after ourselves. Khalid needs us now. We need to keep going.”
Abdel wanted to argue, but he could not find an opening in her reason. Her firm stare transfixed him and he felt himself flush. Am I going back to find Montaron or...Jaheira? He thought to himself. Abdel did not know the answer. Or perhaps he did not want to know.
“Let’s go,” Abdel said. Imoen fell in step behind him. “The cabin should not be far.”
They continued along the south and traveled up along the west side of the lake. Abdel looked back occasionally to see if the other two were keeping up, but only saw Xzar. Though he was tempted, he did not go back and he did not ask Imoen to check. Truth be told, he’d rather not see the halfling if he could avoid it. Time passed and the storm continued to hammer them. Abdel and Imoen were both shivering and ready to give up.
“Where is this damn cabin anyway?” Imoen asked.
“I hope it’s somewhere close,” Abdel said. “He’s getting heavy.”
Imoen checked Khalid. “He doesn’t look too good. What should we do?”
Abdel looked around. “No sign of the bandits...or Jaheira.”
“We can’t go back!” Imoen insisted.
Abdel flushed. “I didn’t say we should, but I need a rest. Here let’s set him up over by these trees. We can have Xzar and Montaron look after him. Then you and I will go ahead and look for the cabin.”
“That’ll just make us take longer.” Imoen said. “You stay here and rest with Khalid. I’ll go up ahead and look for the cabin.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Abdel said. “Who knows what’s lurking in these woods?”
“I’ve got this,” Imoen indicated her sword. She gave Abdel a reassuring smile. “And if I see anything, I’ll come right back, okay?”
Abdel looked ahead and tried to see if he could spot the cabin. He could not. Khalid weighed on him like a heavy stone. With a sigh, he nodded. “Help me lay him down.”
Imoen helped him lay the half-elf down. From the sight of him, Abdel feared that the half-elf was already dead, but he saw the half-elf’s shallow breathing. Relieved, he did what he could to wrap Khalid in one of their spare cloaks, though it was already halfway damp.
“Hurry,” Abdel said. He looked at Khalid’s pale face. “We need to get him out of this storm.”
Imoen nodded and took off down the path, no longer hindered by Abdel and Khalid. Abdel watched her go out of sight and only then did he finally allow himself to collapse by the tree next to Khalid. Abdel could not tell if the shaking of his body were from sore muscles or the terrible cold. He tried to massage his muscles and relax, in hopes that he might have enough strength by the time Imoen returned with the location of the cabin. He pulled out one of the spare cloaks and wrapped it around himself, to give him some more warmth. After a moment, he shifted some of it onto Khalid.
Abdel must have dozed off, because he awoke to the start to a sharp kick in the leg. He jerked up, “Ow! Imoen! I was only…”
“I ain’t your spunky girlfriend,” Montaron said.
Abdel looked up and saw Montaron and Xzar standing over him. Both were as soaked as he was. Abdel shuddered and realized that he was freezing. The halfling gave Abdel a once-over. “Damn lucky I came along boy. Ain’t yer father ever tell you not to sleep out in a storm?”
Abdel forced himself to get to his feet. He looked around. He wasn’t sure how long Imoen had been gone or how long he had been asleep. Xzar had been only a few minutes behind them, but Abdel could not be sure how long Montaron had been gone.
“Where is the damn cabin that pointy eared bitch promised us?” Montaron snarled.
Abdel scowled, “Imoen went ahead to find it. We were letting Khalid get some rest.”
“Yous more like,” Montaron said. He looked over at Khalid. Then peered closer. “Damn it to the Nine. The scrawny bastard ain’t worm chow yet.”
Abdel looked over and saw that Khalid was still unconscious. The rain had soaked them both and the half-elf was shaking uncontrollably. Abdel started to his feet and looked for any spare clothes they might have. “He’s too cold,” Abdel told them. “We need to get him warm.”
“Yer wasting your time,” Montaron said. “He’ll be gone soon. No point in having you lay beside him. Get up and let’s go after Imoen before we call catch our death.”
“No!” Abdel yelled. “We can’t just leave him! Jaheira will kill me if…”
Montaron snorted. “Jaheira is dead boy.”
The halfling had said the words with such conviction that Abdel could almost not deny them. “You don’t know that.” he told Montaron. “You can’t.”
Montaron’s eyes were dark and cold. He spoke slowly. “Come now boy, you ain’t that thick. If Tempus is kind, she’s dead where we left her.”
Abdel tried to say something, but he choked on the words. “I-I don’t believe you.”
The halfling spat out into the lake. “Suit yourself then,” he told Abdel. “But we cant stay out here and we can’t take him with us. We should put him down like I put down my last partner. Across the throat. Quick and easy-like.”
Abdel stared at Montaron. Appalled. The halfling grinned back. “Or, if you haven’t got the guts, we leave him here and let the fates decide. What do ya say?”
Abdel felt the edge of panic in is mind. He looked at Montaron. “Montaron, you can make fire, can’t you?”
“What, in this storm?” Montaron snorted. “Even if he managed to get one going, how long would it last? The woods all soaked and the fire pit would be a puddle before we even dried our hands.”
“We can’t just leave him!” Abdel yelled.
“Then what should we do lad?” Montaron asked.
Abdel swallowed. He looked back they way they’d come, hopeful for any sign of Jaheira. He looked the way Imoen had gone and hoped that she might return to help him argue. He looked to Xzar and Montaron, for any hint of joke, but found none. With nothing left, he thought for himself. If he comes with, we may die. If I leave him, we may very well live...but I’ll have to live with having left him. And I promised Jaheira...but Jaheira is dead...maybe...no! She can’t be dead. I have to be positive. I have to. Lathander…
Abdel’s hand went to the medallion beneath his gambeson. He had forgotten all about the medallion. He thought back to the crazed man who had abandoned his family, had left them to die and how the guilt and pain had turned him mad. I won’t be like him. He promised himself. I will never be like him.
The resolution gave Abdel strength. He looked down at the halfling, firm in eyes and voice. “I won’t leave him. Go on if you wish. I will carry him. You need not let my burden weigh you down.”
Montaron was taken aback and for perhaps the first time since Abdel had met him, did not seem to have anything to say or mutter. Determined to carry out his words before doubt could settle in, Abdel reached down and gently pulled Khalid into his arms and over his shoulder. Abdel was surprised to find that the half-elf seemed to weigh less. Part of Abdel suspected the sort rest had done him good, but he wanted to believe it was his resolution.
Montaron shook his head and spat. “Yer mad.”
The words did not penetrate Abdel as they might have before. Instead he turned and started in the direction he had last seen Imoen. He stopped in his tracks. Imoen’s bobbing hair came into view. She raced up to them, half out of breath. Abdel tensed and scanned the woods around them for any danger. He saw none.
What is it?” he asked her. “Did you find the cabin?”
Imoen shook her head. “I found it, but it’s no good.”
“What? What do you mean?” Abdel asked.
“It’s sunk!” Imoen said. “The cabin has sunk! My thigh was higher than the window!”
“Sunk?” Abdel asked. “In mud?”
Imoen nodded. “And full of water.”
Abdel was stunned. He looked to Montaron, who only cursed and spat. Abdel felt panic batter at his newfound strength. He felt parts of himself crumble, like the edge of worn cliff into the relentless sea. For a moment, he feared he would lose himself, but he forced himself to stop and breath. He closed his eyes and found his center. There’s no shelter. We’re too exposed here. The wind and rain alone will…
Abdel looked up and stared into the rain. The rain flowed with the wind, hitting them hard from the south and occasionally from the west. The direction of the storm. The trees and bushes were too small and thin to protect them, but if they had even a simple brick wall, they could stay dry with their tents. Maybe even produce a fire.
“Imoen,” Abdel asked. “Is the area around the cabin soaked too?”
Imoen nodded, “Yeah. Well, the front is anyway.”
“Which way does the front face?”
“South.”
Abdel nodded. He was beginning to feel hopeful. “Take us back there. We may still be able to use the cabin for something.”
Imoen was doubtful. “For what, kindling? That isn’t any good either. Its wetter than the lake is.”
“Just show us.” Abdel insisted.
Imoen led the way back. The trek took another fifteen minutes. By the time they reached the site of the cabin, Abdel felt as if every muscle in his body was about to tear free. The cabin was a depressing site; indeed the cabin had flooded; it had sunk face-first into the ground. Abdel could only guess at the state of the ground the cabin had been built upon.
The north end of the cabin was drier than the rest and not so much worse than the rest of the woods. Abdel decided it was their best chance. Abdel settled Khalid with Imoen by the wall and at once began to set up a simple tent. Montaron left to gather wood and together, he and Xzar began to build a small fire pit. After Khalid was settled safely within one of the tents, Abdel went to help the other two with the fire, but had discovered they had managed on their own.
Afterwards, when Montaron had begun to cook some of the food they had brought with them, Abdel, Xzar, and Imoen looked over Khalid’s wounds as best they could, but Khalid was worse than Abdel had imagined. The bandit had shattered his collar bone, his ribs, and had left a gash deep enough to have caused a lot of blood loss. Abdel had felt his stomach twist and his throat constrict at the sight of the wounds.
“Will he be okay?” Imoen asked. Traumatized by the damage as Abdel had been by the wounds.
“He’s doing better,” Abdel lied, having no idea if Khalid was for the better or worse. The half-elf had remained unconscious and seemed to shiver, even when the tent had grown warm.
Supper was small and burnt, owing to Montaron’s lack of skill at it. Still, the company was so hungry that they had barely noticed. That night, Abdel shared a tent with Khalid to better keep an eye on him. He did not sleep well, waking every so often to the fear that Khalid had died in his sleep. In his dreams he thought he had stood over his dying friend, laughing as he slit his throat. The dreams disturbed him and he found himself wishing he had asked Imoen to share the tent with Khalid instead.
When morning came, the worst of the storm had seemed to of passed. The hard rain had become a drizzle and the heavy winds had become a gentle breeze. Had it not been for the storm the day before, Abdel felt as though he would have enjoyed the cool weather. With more amicable weather, the company made as large of a breakfast as they dared and ate up.
After breakfast, Abdel checked Khalid; the half-elf had grown steadily worse. His breathing had grown deathly shallow and and his body seemed too still. Abdel feared that he would be dead before the day was over.
“We need to find that fisher’s cabin,” Abdel told the others after returning to the campfire.
“Bah! Give it up lad!” Montaron told him. “He isn’t going to make it. Just let him fade away and be done with it.”
Abdel shook his head, “No, Jaheira…”
It was at that moment that Abdel realized that Jaheira had still not returned. His heart fell and he struggled through the rest of his thoughts. “I...I promised I would keep him alive. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I can probably reach the fisher’s cabin by noon,” Imoen said, supportive of Abdel.
“He’ll be dead by the time you make it back missy,” Montaron said. “I’ve stuck enough gits in the guts to know when a man is ready to meet Cyric.”
“Well, we can’t just give up on him!” Imoen protested. “You wouldn’t like it if we’d just given up on you!”
Before Montaron could retort, Xzar spoke. “The guard of fools approaches! He will take us to the wrath of the storm!”
“Shut it!” Imoen snapped at the wizard. She looked at Montaron, “You’re a git if I ever saw one. If we weren’t here, you would have abandoned Khalid without a second thought!”
“Aye lass, that I would have.” Montaron said, not at all offended. “And same goes for you and anyone else.”
Imoen stared daggers at the halfling. Montaron shrugged and got up to pack. “And I think it’s about time me and Xzar cut our losses. You two brought us nothing but trouble.”
Abdel stood up alarmed, “No wait…!”
“Fine!” Imoen shouted. “We don’t need you two anyway. I hope you rot in hell!”
“Pack up wizard, we’re leaving!” Montaron snapped at Xzar.
“I don’t take orders from you!” Xzar shouted. He got to his feet and stamped a foot.
“Shut it and grab your stuff!” Xzar snarled. “We got stuff to be doing and it ain’t being done with these gits!”
“Hold on! Hold on!” Abdel shouted. Montaron turned to Abdel. “Just wait! We’re all a bit angry and scared right now...just calm down. Let’s think about this.”
“Ain’t much to be thinking about, if you be asking me.” Montaron said. “Either ya leave that git half-elf to die and we get back to the job or we be leaving without you.”
“Wait...let’s, let’s see if…” Abdel tried to say something that he thought might make the two stay, but nothing came to mind.
“Let them go!” Imoen shouted at Abdel.
There was nothing that Abdel could do. Twenty minutes later, Montaron and Xzar had packed up and left camp. Abdel slumped down next to the cooling fire, his mind spun. Imoen sat opposite of him. Abdel was so angry with her, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He just sat at the fire and let it burn away. For a long while, neither of them said or did anything but watch the fire dwindle away.
“We need some more wood,” Imoen said.
“Yeah.”
“I could do it, but the wood is pretty heavy.” Imoen said.
“Yeah.”
“Could you get it instead?” Imoen asked.
Abdel shrugged.
“Abdel, what’s wrong? Imoen asked.
Abdel glared at her. Imoen looked away at first, but then she looked back. Eyes straight at him. “I’m sorry, but they were going to leave anyway.”
Abdel continued to stare at her. “They would have stayed,” he insisted. “If you hadn’t…”
“They were pigs! And villains!” Imoen protested. “Those creeps were always saying weird things! You know that! Stop pretending! You’re just scared of being alone!”
Abdel stood up, his fists balled. Imoen recoiled, shocked. Abdel shook as he tried to wrestle himself back into control. “I’m going to get more wood,” he said. Then he turned and stormed away.
Abdel passed up good looking wood to get farther away from camp. When he could no longer see Imoen or even the glow of the fire, he kicked at a rock with his boot, bruising it in the process. He let out a string of curses, directed at Imoen and Montaron. When he had vented, he felt empty inside and he felt worse than he had before. He paced back and forth. He needed to figure out what to do. Khalid is dying. He thought to himself. He’ll be dead soon if we don’t get him to a priest. Jaheira is...missing. Or dead. And now Montaron and Xzar have abandoned me...us. Damn that Imoen. If she had just stayed at Candlekeep, none of this would have happened.
Abdel felt a jab of guilt. Of course, if Imoen hadn’t been there when we needed her...He shook his head, intent on remaining angry at her. She still shouldn’t have said those things to Montaron! I needed him! We needed him. He amended to himself.
Abdel found a wet log to sit on. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to keep himself from crying. I can’t break down now. He told himself. I’m stronger than this. I’m stronger than this. I have to just keep going. Get us to Nashkel. Somehow.
Abdel had no idea how he would do that. No way we can save Khalid in time. Montaron was right. Damn it. Damn it! I can’t just leave Khalid though...not after what Jaheira did to save him. And us. She saved all of us. No--no, I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him. I’ll...I’ll do my best to make him comfortable. That’s all I can do. I’ll go up to that fisher’s cabin that Jaheira told me about--maybe she’s there? I hope so.
“You there! Identify yourself!”
Abdel jumped. From out of the woods came several men in gambesons and mail. They wore polished helmets and thick wool cloaks. They had each drawn swords. They looked rugged and pale. Abdel lept to his feet and reached for Ashideena, only to find that he had left the warhammer back at camp. All he had on him was the carving knife. Nevertheless, he drew it.
“Identify yourself!” Abdel called back to the men. “I won’t be taken in by bandits!”
“Bandits? You’re the bandit here!” one of the younger men shouted. He brandished his blade. “We’ve finally caught you thief! Now lay down your arm and surrender quietly!”
“I’m no bandit!” Abdel shouted back at the man.
“Then identify yourself!” another man, an older man, with blond hair gone white and bright blue eyes said. To Abdel, he seemed to have a noble bearing.
“You first!” Abdel insisted.
“Very well sir, I am Captain George Gallor!” the man called back. “We’re members of the Iron Helm Mercenary Band! We’ve been hired by scholars to protect their camp. Who are you?”
Abdel relaxed a bit. “Abdel Adrian of Candlekeep.”
“Candlekeep?” Captain Gallor said. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing so far from home?”
“I was journeying south to Nashkel to investigate the rumors behind the Iron Crises,” Abdel told him. “We were set upon by bandits on the road. Our company was chased into these woods.”
“How many are you?” the captain asked.
Abdel hesitated. “We were six, but we are three now. One of our members is missing and the other two abandoned us.”
“Terrible news!” The captain said. “But these woods are no safer! Our digging company has come under sabotage, theft, and assault in the past three days! You would do well to leave these woods and continue on your way to Nashkel.”
“We would, but one of our company is gravely injured,” Abdel said. “Do you have a priest?”
The mercenary captain hesitated, then said. “Indeed we do. We had purchased the services of two of the clerics from Beregost, as it so happens.”
One of the mercenaries snorted. “Spies from Beregost! We should have saved the coin. Those priests haven’t prevented the sabotage.”
“Keep quiet!” captain barked at the man. To Abdel he said. “You seem like a trustworthy young man and you seem to have been through hell, by the looks of you. Be that as it may, I cannot allow you to wander so near to our camp and it seems you cannot leave. I propose you accompany us back to our camp, so that our employers might see if they can spare you any aid.”
Abdel’s heart lifted. “That is better than I could have hoped for! Thank you! We will come with you at once!”
“Then let us accompany you there,” the captain said. “That way we can make quick work of it!”
The storm hammered the company. They had started off quickly through the woods with Khalid. The company came upon the lake soon after leaving Jaheira. It was wide and calm and following her instructions, they followed it southward. The company’s pace was swift at first, despite the rain, wind, and mud, but as the distance wore on Abdel found the half-elf to be increasingly heavy. Abdel was certain that they would have no chance at saving the man. He thought of going back to get Jaheira, but immediately dismissed it. She would kill me if I let Khalid die. He thought and it brought him some measure of pain knowing that.
“Hey Abdel,” Imoen said, “You look tired, we should rest.”
Abdel shook his head. “No. We don’t have time for that. If we rest now, those bandits might catch up to us and Jaheira will have...will be angry.”
Imoen gave him a curious look. She looked back the way they’d come. “No sign of anything yet,” she said. She gave him a sidelong look. “She’ll be safe. It’s Jaheira. It’ll take more than a couple of those creeps to kill her.”
“I thought the same thing about Gorion.” Abdel said. “And how would we hear anything? It’s raining too hard.”
Abdel looked up and saw that Imoen was staring at him, wide-eyed. He suddenly realized what he’d just said. “Imoen, I’m sorry! I didn’t think--”
“You never do,” Imoen snapped. She turned and stormed off down the path.
Abdel cursed and caught up to her. “Imoen, just listen! I didn’t mean to say that, I’m--I’m just worried that Jaheira...won’t make it.”
Imoen shot him a glare. “You’re a real jerk sometimes Abdel. And stupid too. No wonder why Gorion never pushed you to become a mage like him.”
“I didn’t want to--” Abdel stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I know I can get tunnel vision sometimes. I know you were trying to help. I’m sorry I said that about...about Gorion.”
Imoen looked down. She didn’t talk for a while. When she did, the anger in her voice had been replaced with grief. “I hate all that has happened. Getting kicked out of Candlekeep...Gorion...those bandits...that ogre...that madman who tried to kill you...and now this. Lost in some woods with a mad wizard and a creepy halfling.”
“Imoen, I’m sorry.” Abdel said. “I’ll...I’ll make things better. You’ll see. And those two might nuts and weird, but at least we can count on them.”
Imoen looked behind them. Abdel followed her gaze and saw Xzar a few yards behind. The wizard was covered in mud and shouting at the wind and sky. Occasionally he would shake his fist. Abdel guessed him to be cursing the storm. Or maybe the god that brought the storm. He looked for Montaron, knowing that he would not be far behind, but saw no sign of him. Abdel frowned.
“Where is Montaron?” Abdel asked Imoen.
“How should I know?” Imoen asked. “He’s probably behind Xzar somewhere. You know how short his legs are.”
Abdel shook his head. “I don’t see him at all. Do you?”
“Maybe he’s covering our rear?” Imoen offered.
“That’s what Jaheira was doing.” Abdel said angrily. “Something has happened. Let’s go back. If we hurry we can--”
Imoen grabbed him firmly by the arm. “Abdel, we can’t go back now. We need to get Khalid to shelter or he will die.”
Abdel looked down at Imoen. “We won’t go back far. Just to make sure that he’s alright.”
“Montaron can look after himself.” Imoen told him. “Better than you or I can look after ourselves. Khalid needs us now. We need to keep going.”
Abdel wanted to argue, but he could not find an opening in her reason. Her firm stare transfixed him and he felt himself flush. Am I going back to find Montaron or...Jaheira? He thought to himself. Abdel did not know the answer. Or perhaps he did not want to know.
“Let’s go,” Abdel said. Imoen fell in step behind him. “The cabin should not be far.”
They continued along the south and traveled up along the west side of the lake. Abdel looked back occasionally to see if the other two were keeping up, but only saw Xzar. Though he was tempted, he did not go back and he did not ask Imoen to check. Truth be told, he’d rather not see the halfling if he could avoid it. Time passed and the storm continued to hammer them. Abdel and Imoen were both shivering and ready to give up.
“Where is this damn cabin anyway?” Imoen asked.
“I hope it’s somewhere close,” Abdel said. “He’s getting heavy.”
Imoen checked Khalid. “He doesn’t look too good. What should we do?”
Abdel looked around. “No sign of the bandits...or Jaheira.”
“We can’t go back!” Imoen insisted.
Abdel flushed. “I didn’t say we should, but I need a rest. Here let’s set him up over by these trees. We can have Xzar and Montaron look after him. Then you and I will go ahead and look for the cabin.”
“That’ll just make us take longer.” Imoen said. “You stay here and rest with Khalid. I’ll go up ahead and look for the cabin.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Abdel said. “Who knows what’s lurking in these woods?”
“I’ve got this,” Imoen indicated her sword. She gave Abdel a reassuring smile. “And if I see anything, I’ll come right back, okay?”
Abdel looked ahead and tried to see if he could spot the cabin. He could not. Khalid weighed on him like a heavy stone. With a sigh, he nodded. “Help me lay him down.”
Imoen helped him lay the half-elf down. From the sight of him, Abdel feared that the half-elf was already dead, but he saw the half-elf’s shallow breathing. Relieved, he did what he could to wrap Khalid in one of their spare cloaks, though it was already halfway damp.
“Hurry,” Abdel said. He looked at Khalid’s pale face. “We need to get him out of this storm.”
Imoen nodded and took off down the path, no longer hindered by Abdel and Khalid. Abdel watched her go out of sight and only then did he finally allow himself to collapse by the tree next to Khalid. Abdel could not tell if the shaking of his body were from sore muscles or the terrible cold. He tried to massage his muscles and relax, in hopes that he might have enough strength by the time Imoen returned with the location of the cabin. He pulled out one of the spare cloaks and wrapped it around himself, to give him some more warmth. After a moment, he shifted some of it onto Khalid.
Abdel must have dozed off, because he awoke to the start to a sharp kick in the leg. He jerked up, “Ow! Imoen! I was only…”
“I ain’t your spunky girlfriend,” Montaron said.
Abdel looked up and saw Montaron and Xzar standing over him. Both were as soaked as he was. Abdel shuddered and realized that he was freezing. The halfling gave Abdel a once-over. “Damn lucky I came along boy. Ain’t yer father ever tell you not to sleep out in a storm?”
Abdel forced himself to get to his feet. He looked around. He wasn’t sure how long Imoen had been gone or how long he had been asleep. Xzar had been only a few minutes behind them, but Abdel could not be sure how long Montaron had been gone.
“Where is the damn cabin that pointy eared bitch promised us?” Montaron snarled.
Abdel scowled, “Imoen went ahead to find it. We were letting Khalid get some rest.”
“Yous more like,” Montaron said. He looked over at Khalid. Then peered closer. “Damn it to the Nine. The scrawny bastard ain’t worm chow yet.”
Abdel looked over and saw that Khalid was still unconscious. The rain had soaked them both and the half-elf was shaking uncontrollably. Abdel started to his feet and looked for any spare clothes they might have. “He’s too cold,” Abdel told them. “We need to get him warm.”
“Yer wasting your time,” Montaron said. “He’ll be gone soon. No point in having you lay beside him. Get up and let’s go after Imoen before we call catch our death.”
“No!” Abdel yelled. “We can’t just leave him! Jaheira will kill me if…”
Montaron snorted. “Jaheira is dead boy.”
The halfling had said the words with such conviction that Abdel could almost not deny them. “You don’t know that.” he told Montaron. “You can’t.”
Montaron’s eyes were dark and cold. He spoke slowly. “Come now boy, you ain’t that thick. If Tempus is kind, she’s dead where we left her.”
Abdel tried to say something, but he choked on the words. “I-I don’t believe you.”
The halfling spat out into the lake. “Suit yourself then,” he told Abdel. “But we cant stay out here and we can’t take him with us. We should put him down like I put down my last partner. Across the throat. Quick and easy-like.”
Abdel stared at Montaron. Appalled. The halfling grinned back. “Or, if you haven’t got the guts, we leave him here and let the fates decide. What do ya say?”
Abdel felt the edge of panic in is mind. He looked at Montaron. “Montaron, you can make fire, can’t you?”
“What, in this storm?” Montaron snorted. “Even if he managed to get one going, how long would it last? The woods all soaked and the fire pit would be a puddle before we even dried our hands.”
“We can’t just leave him!” Abdel yelled.
“Then what should we do lad?” Montaron asked.
Abdel swallowed. He looked back they way they’d come, hopeful for any sign of Jaheira. He looked the way Imoen had gone and hoped that she might return to help him argue. He looked to Xzar and Montaron, for any hint of joke, but found none. With nothing left, he thought for himself. If he comes with, we may die. If I leave him, we may very well live...but I’ll have to live with having left him. And I promised Jaheira...but Jaheira is dead...maybe...no! She can’t be dead. I have to be positive. I have to. Lathander…
Abdel’s hand went to the medallion beneath his gambeson. He had forgotten all about the medallion. He thought back to the crazed man who had abandoned his family, had left them to die and how the guilt and pain had turned him mad. I won’t be like him. He promised himself. I will never be like him.
The resolution gave Abdel strength. He looked down at the halfling, firm in eyes and voice. “I won’t leave him. Go on if you wish. I will carry him. You need not let my burden weigh you down.”
Montaron was taken aback and for perhaps the first time since Abdel had met him, did not seem to have anything to say or mutter. Determined to carry out his words before doubt could settle in, Abdel reached down and gently pulled Khalid into his arms and over his shoulder. Abdel was surprised to find that the half-elf seemed to weigh less. Part of Abdel suspected the sort rest had done him good, but he wanted to believe it was his resolution.
Montaron shook his head and spat. “Yer mad.”
The words did not penetrate Abdel as they might have before. Instead he turned and started in the direction he had last seen Imoen. He stopped in his tracks. Imoen’s bobbing hair came into view. She raced up to them, half out of breath. Abdel tensed and scanned the woods around them for any danger. He saw none.
What is it?” he asked her. “Did you find the cabin?”
Imoen shook her head. “I found it, but it’s no good.”
“What? What do you mean?” Abdel asked.
“It’s sunk!” Imoen said. “The cabin has sunk! My thigh was higher than the window!”
“Sunk?” Abdel asked. “In mud?”
Imoen nodded. “And full of water.”
Abdel was stunned. He looked to Montaron, who only cursed and spat. Abdel felt panic batter at his newfound strength. He felt parts of himself crumble, like the edge of worn cliff into the relentless sea. For a moment, he feared he would lose himself, but he forced himself to stop and breath. He closed his eyes and found his center. There’s no shelter. We’re too exposed here. The wind and rain alone will…
Abdel looked up and stared into the rain. The rain flowed with the wind, hitting them hard from the south and occasionally from the west. The direction of the storm. The trees and bushes were too small and thin to protect them, but if they had even a simple brick wall, they could stay dry with their tents. Maybe even produce a fire.
“Imoen,” Abdel asked. “Is the area around the cabin soaked too?”
Imoen nodded, “Yeah. Well, the front is anyway.”
“Which way does the front face?”
“South.”
Abdel nodded. He was beginning to feel hopeful. “Take us back there. We may still be able to use the cabin for something.”
Imoen was doubtful. “For what, kindling? That isn’t any good either. Its wetter than the lake is.”
“Just show us.” Abdel insisted.
Imoen led the way back. The trek took another fifteen minutes. By the time they reached the site of the cabin, Abdel felt as if every muscle in his body was about to tear free. The cabin was a depressing site; indeed the cabin had flooded; it had sunk face-first into the ground. Abdel could only guess at the state of the ground the cabin had been built upon.
The north end of the cabin was drier than the rest and not so much worse than the rest of the woods. Abdel decided it was their best chance. Abdel settled Khalid with Imoen by the wall and at once began to set up a simple tent. Montaron left to gather wood and together, he and Xzar began to build a small fire pit. After Khalid was settled safely within one of the tents, Abdel went to help the other two with the fire, but had discovered they had managed on their own.
Afterwards, when Montaron had begun to cook some of the food they had brought with them, Abdel, Xzar, and Imoen looked over Khalid’s wounds as best they could, but Khalid was worse than Abdel had imagined. The bandit had shattered his collar bone, his ribs, and had left a gash deep enough to have caused a lot of blood loss. Abdel had felt his stomach twist and his throat constrict at the sight of the wounds.
“Will he be okay?” Imoen asked. Traumatized by the damage as Abdel had been by the wounds.
“He’s doing better,” Abdel lied, having no idea if Khalid was for the better or worse. The half-elf had remained unconscious and seemed to shiver, even when the tent had grown warm.
Supper was small and burnt, owing to Montaron’s lack of skill at it. Still, the company was so hungry that they had barely noticed. That night, Abdel shared a tent with Khalid to better keep an eye on him. He did not sleep well, waking every so often to the fear that Khalid had died in his sleep. In his dreams he thought he had stood over his dying friend, laughing as he slit his throat. The dreams disturbed him and he found himself wishing he had asked Imoen to share the tent with Khalid instead.
When morning came, the worst of the storm had seemed to of passed. The hard rain had become a drizzle and the heavy winds had become a gentle breeze. Had it not been for the storm the day before, Abdel felt as though he would have enjoyed the cool weather. With more amicable weather, the company made as large of a breakfast as they dared and ate up.
After breakfast, Abdel checked Khalid; the half-elf had grown steadily worse. His breathing had grown deathly shallow and and his body seemed too still. Abdel feared that he would be dead before the day was over.
“We need to find that fisher’s cabin,” Abdel told the others after returning to the campfire.
“Bah! Give it up lad!” Montaron told him. “He isn’t going to make it. Just let him fade away and be done with it.”
Abdel shook his head, “No, Jaheira…”
It was at that moment that Abdel realized that Jaheira had still not returned. His heart fell and he struggled through the rest of his thoughts. “I...I promised I would keep him alive. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I can probably reach the fisher’s cabin by noon,” Imoen said, supportive of Abdel.
“He’ll be dead by the time you make it back missy,” Montaron said. “I’ve stuck enough gits in the guts to know when a man is ready to meet Cyric.”
“Well, we can’t just give up on him!” Imoen protested. “You wouldn’t like it if we’d just given up on you!”
Before Montaron could retort, Xzar spoke. “The guard of fools approaches! He will take us to the wrath of the storm!”
“Shut it!” Imoen snapped at the wizard. She looked at Montaron, “You’re a git if I ever saw one. If we weren’t here, you would have abandoned Khalid without a second thought!”
“Aye lass, that I would have.” Montaron said, not at all offended. “And same goes for you and anyone else.”
Imoen stared daggers at the halfling. Montaron shrugged and got up to pack. “And I think it’s about time me and Xzar cut our losses. You two brought us nothing but trouble.”
Abdel stood up alarmed, “No wait…!”
“Fine!” Imoen shouted. “We don’t need you two anyway. I hope you rot in hell!”
“Pack up wizard, we’re leaving!” Montaron snapped at Xzar.
“I don’t take orders from you!” Xzar shouted. He got to his feet and stamped a foot.
“Shut it and grab your stuff!” Xzar snarled. “We got stuff to be doing and it ain’t being done with these gits!”
“Hold on! Hold on!” Abdel shouted. Montaron turned to Abdel. “Just wait! We’re all a bit angry and scared right now...just calm down. Let’s think about this.”
“Ain’t much to be thinking about, if you be asking me.” Montaron said. “Either ya leave that git half-elf to die and we get back to the job or we be leaving without you.”
“Wait...let’s, let’s see if…” Abdel tried to say something that he thought might make the two stay, but nothing came to mind.
“Let them go!” Imoen shouted at Abdel.
There was nothing that Abdel could do. Twenty minutes later, Montaron and Xzar had packed up and left camp. Abdel slumped down next to the cooling fire, his mind spun. Imoen sat opposite of him. Abdel was so angry with her, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He just sat at the fire and let it burn away. For a long while, neither of them said or did anything but watch the fire dwindle away.
“We need some more wood,” Imoen said.
“Yeah.”
“I could do it, but the wood is pretty heavy.” Imoen said.
“Yeah.”
“Could you get it instead?” Imoen asked.
Abdel shrugged.
“Abdel, what’s wrong? Imoen asked.
Abdel glared at her. Imoen looked away at first, but then she looked back. Eyes straight at him. “I’m sorry, but they were going to leave anyway.”
Abdel continued to stare at her. “They would have stayed,” he insisted. “If you hadn’t…”
“They were pigs! And villains!” Imoen protested. “Those creeps were always saying weird things! You know that! Stop pretending! You’re just scared of being alone!”
Abdel stood up, his fists balled. Imoen recoiled, shocked. Abdel shook as he tried to wrestle himself back into control. “I’m going to get more wood,” he said. Then he turned and stormed away.
Abdel passed up good looking wood to get farther away from camp. When he could no longer see Imoen or even the glow of the fire, he kicked at a rock with his boot, bruising it in the process. He let out a string of curses, directed at Imoen and Montaron. When he had vented, he felt empty inside and he felt worse than he had before. He paced back and forth. He needed to figure out what to do. Khalid is dying. He thought to himself. He’ll be dead soon if we don’t get him to a priest. Jaheira is...missing. Or dead. And now Montaron and Xzar have abandoned me...us. Damn that Imoen. If she had just stayed at Candlekeep, none of this would have happened.
Abdel felt a jab of guilt. Of course, if Imoen hadn’t been there when we needed her...He shook his head, intent on remaining angry at her. She still shouldn’t have said those things to Montaron! I needed him! We needed him. He amended to himself.
Abdel found a wet log to sit on. He dropped his head in his hands and tried to keep himself from crying. I can’t break down now. He told himself. I’m stronger than this. I’m stronger than this. I have to just keep going. Get us to Nashkel. Somehow.
Abdel had no idea how he would do that. No way we can save Khalid in time. Montaron was right. Damn it. Damn it! I can’t just leave Khalid though...not after what Jaheira did to save him. And us. She saved all of us. No--no, I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him. I’ll...I’ll do my best to make him comfortable. That’s all I can do. I’ll go up to that fisher’s cabin that Jaheira told me about--maybe she’s there? I hope so.
“You there! Identify yourself!”
Abdel jumped. From out of the woods came several men in gambesons and mail. They wore polished helmets and thick wool cloaks. They had each drawn swords. They looked rugged and pale. Abdel lept to his feet and reached for Ashideena, only to find that he had left the warhammer back at camp. All he had on him was the carving knife. Nevertheless, he drew it.
“Identify yourself!” Abdel called back to the men. “I won’t be taken in by bandits!”
“Bandits? You’re the bandit here!” one of the younger men shouted. He brandished his blade. “We’ve finally caught you thief! Now lay down your arm and surrender quietly!”
“I’m no bandit!” Abdel shouted back at the man.
“Then identify yourself!” another man, an older man, with blond hair gone white and bright blue eyes said. To Abdel, he seemed to have a noble bearing.
“You first!” Abdel insisted.
“Very well sir, I am Captain George Gallor!” the man called back. “We’re members of the Iron Helm Mercenary Band! We’ve been hired by scholars to protect their camp. Who are you?”
Abdel relaxed a bit. “Abdel Adrian of Candlekeep.”
“Candlekeep?” Captain Gallor said. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing so far from home?”
“I was journeying south to Nashkel to investigate the rumors behind the Iron Crises,” Abdel told him. “We were set upon by bandits on the road. Our company was chased into these woods.”
“How many are you?” the captain asked.
Abdel hesitated. “We were six, but we are three now. One of our members is missing and the other two abandoned us.”
“Terrible news!” The captain said. “But these woods are no safer! Our digging company has come under sabotage, theft, and assault in the past three days! You would do well to leave these woods and continue on your way to Nashkel.”
“We would, but one of our company is gravely injured,” Abdel said. “Do you have a priest?”
The mercenary captain hesitated, then said. “Indeed we do. We had purchased the services of two of the clerics from Beregost, as it so happens.”
One of the mercenaries snorted. “Spies from Beregost! We should have saved the coin. Those priests haven’t prevented the sabotage.”
“Keep quiet!” captain barked at the man. To Abdel he said. “You seem like a trustworthy young man and you seem to have been through hell, by the looks of you. Be that as it may, I cannot allow you to wander so near to our camp and it seems you cannot leave. I propose you accompany us back to our camp, so that our employers might see if they can spare you any aid.”
Abdel’s heart lifted. “That is better than I could have hoped for! Thank you! We will come with you at once!”
“Then let us accompany you there,” the captain said. “That way we can make quick work of it!”
Chapter Eleven
“Torm’s gauntlet, it’s worse than I thought!” Captain Gallor said. He looked down at the wounded and shaking Khalid. He turned to his two men. “He does not have much time. Franklin, assist this man and his woman in--”
“She’s not my woman…” Abdel protested.
“--packing. Jacob, your flask. Yes, I know you have it. Do you take me for a fool? This man is a bigger fan of his drink than you. If he does not get some of it soon, it will kill him before the wound does.”
Jacob handed over the flask. Captain Gallor leaned down and gently poured some into Khalid’s mouth and helped him swallow. “There. I ask for your forgiveness Jacob. He will need every drop if we are to get him back to camp in safety. I will replace it myself.”
Jacob gave a firm nod. “Think nothing of it captain.”
Gallor gave him a firm nod. “Thank you. Now, you two get to packing. The priests told me that the storm would return before noon. We do not have much time. Quickly! Leave anything that we do not need!”
Spurred on by the captain, Abdel, Imoen, and the mercenaries broke down the camp. Franklin and Jacob were brutal in tossing away anything that was too cumbersome and not of immediate need. After they had finished the four of them rejoined the captain, who had begun to carve up Khalid’s tent for a stretcher. Franklin and Jacob left and returned several minutes later with two thick, roughly straight branches to be used as poles to carry Khalid.
“We will have to make quick work of this lads,” Captain Gallor said as they placed Khalid as gently as possible into the makeshift stretcher. “Franklin and Jacob, you know this area better than I. You will lead us. Abdel and I shall take the rear.”
“What about me?” Imoen asked. “I want to help too.”
Captain Gallor smiled at her “Your beauty is enough dear girl, but if you wish to do more, carry all that you can and keep a sharp eye. We will need to keep our burden light and another pair of eyes is always welcome.”
Imoen blushed.
They had covered Khalid in the driest clothes and cloaks that they could find in the camp and set off with Khalid at once. The progress was slow at first thanks to Abdel’s inexperience with maneuvering a stretcher and the difficulty in carrying it through the woods. Captain Gallor patiently instructed Abdel and the pace picked up. Ten minutes later, the trees began to thin out and Abdel saw a wide plain infrequently peppered with trees. Ahead of them, Abdel saw a tall plateau, of which many trees grew around.
“Our camp is on the other side of that plateau,” Captain Gallor said. With his free hand, he pointed to the sky, “The storm will be upon us soon. It will take us half an hour to reach the trees around the plateau and half as long to reach the camp from there, if the weather is favorable.”
“Talos doesn’t seem intent upon that,” Jacob observed.
“We should go around the north,” Franklin said. “The plateau will shield us from the wind.”
“I do not trust that way,” Captain Gallor said. “There are too many caves in the north end for my comfort. We will have to trust to our own endurance and to Illmater in his pity upon us. C’mon lads, let us show this pretty lass what men of the Iron Helm is made of!”
Jacob and Franklin gave a shout. They picked up the pace.
Overhead the storm gathered power. The clouds begin to spin faster and faster in the sky. Lightning raced along the dark surface of the storm like intricate webs of light. The wind picked up and Abdel had to pull his cloak down so he could see easily. The light rain had turned into infrequent raindrops that promised a torrential downpour.
“You came all this way looking for bandits?” Imoen asked.
“Our camp has been attacked by cowards in the night,” Captain Gallor said. “Every night for the past tenday, cowards have stolen into our camp and made off with supplies.”
“What if it’s someone in camp?” Abdel asked.
“I had feared that too,” Captain Gallor said. “Although I trust my men with my life, it was my duty to see to it that their possessions were examined first--Torm’s Sabaton, my men were straight and narrow. Though perhaps they had brought more liquor than I cared to know.”
Jacob flushed and looked away. Captain Gallor laughed, “But that is the nature of our business my young man! You look like a strong young arm. If after this business of yours is concluded, I would ask that you join our group! We could use a man like you!”
Abdel felt his face grow hot. “Why thank you sir, I would be honored.”
The captain reached over and gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear!”
“Why are you out here to begin with, if you don’t mind me asking?” Imoen said.
“Of course young miss!” Captain Gallor said, he gave Imoen a smile. “By the looks of it, you too were raised in Candlekeep with Abdel. Is this not true?”
“It is,” Imoen said. “Gorion always taught me to ask questions.”
Abdel couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.
Gallor raised an amused brow. “What is so funny Abdel? Come, share the joke!”
Abdel grinned, “He taught Imoen through example; bombarding her whenever he caught her nipping something that wasn’t hers.”
“Abdel!” Imoen gasped, her face went scarlet. “Don’t say that!”
The men laughed. “So we found a thief after all!” Franklin said.
“Aye!” Jacob said. He gave Imoen a look over and turned his head to the captain, “Should I take her into custody sir? I swear I won’t take my eyes off her.”
“You haven’t yet!” Franklin said.
Imoen was speechless. Abdel couldn’t tell if she was flattered or outraged. Perhaps a bit of both. Captain Gallor laughed. “Now men! Mind your manners! Words like this is why the women of Beregost do not come out into the streets when we visit!”
The men chuckled. Jacob looked to Imoen, “I beg your pardon, pretty miss. I speak only in jest, though I was honest about your beauty.”
Imoen mumbled something. Captain Gallor gave another chuckle. “As pretty as she is shy! What is it that you had wanted to ask me young miss?”
Imoen suddenly remembered what they had been talking about. “Why are you three even out this far from...well, anything?”
“Ah!” Captain Gallr said. “As I mentioned to your companion, we are offering our services to some scholars from Waterdeep. They have an interest in some ruins on the other side of that plateau. Apparently there used to be an old settlement near here. A Mister Charleston Nib paid for our protection and we have been out here for the better part of a month, excavating old ruins.”
“Sounds easy,” Abdel said.
“Aye, easy pay!” Jacob said, “Until the thefts and disappearances started happening.”
“Disappearances? Thefts?” Abdel said. “I’ve been wondering about that. These bandits act like none of those that we have met upon the road.”
“The cowards sneak into our camp while we sleep and pilfer the artifacts that the scholars uncover,” Franklin said. “The stuffy bastards accused us of doing it! But they didn’t find a single artifact! We don’t want their damned old trash!”
“Well, apart from the captain’s new sword that is.” Jacob said.
“Yeah, well, that’s different!” Franklin said. “It’s a beautiful peace.”
Abdel looked to Captain Gallor. The captain smiled sheepishly and indicated a sheathed sword at his belt. It had a beaten copper handle with a simple crossguard and a sapphire embedded in the pommel. The sheath suggested that the sword was about a foot longer than the typical arming sword.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Captain Gallor said fondly of the sword. “Remarkably sharp for its age. The priests said it held a mild enchantment. I admit, I fell in love with the sword the moment I laid my hands upon it. The balance, the handle, the steel!”
“Poor Michelle has a new competitor for her husband’s love,” Franklin said.
Captain Gallor laughed.
As the company made swift progress across the field, Abdel felt a strange sense of unease come over him. I feel like I’m being watched, he thought to himself. Eventually, his gaze was drawn up to the plateau. It was dark and ominous in the light of the storm. The had neared the trees at its feet when the downpour came. Abdel gasped as he was soaked in a matter of seconds. He struggled to grab for his cloak hood, but the wind made it impossible. Abdel watched as Franklin’s cloak came free and was blown high into the sky and over the field.
“Hells!” Franklin yelled.
“Keep going men! Keep going!” Captain Gallor called over the storm. “It only gets worse from here!”
The wind howled and the rain pounded down upon them, but the company endured. As they marched, Abdel couldn’t help but admire the captain and his men. They endured the storm without complaint or asking for a break. The wind grew worse when they reached the south of the plateau, as the wind seemed to hit the rock wall and fly back against them. It wasn’t long before Abdel too lost his cloak. Abdel gasped and tried to snatch it, but it was blown up and spun overhead.
“Forget it lad!” Captain Gallor called. “By Torm! Push forward! We are almost there!”
“Yes sir!” Abdel shouted back and endured the rain pounding on his unsheltered body.
Finally the company saw the camp. The plateau had two natural rough walls of rock that
extended west like great arms, leaving a small gap at its farthest end. Between this gap of natural rock stood a built wooden wall made from trunks of trees. From within the wall Abdel saw the lights of a camp.
“There it is!” Jacob yelled.
“Almost there!” Franklin called out.
“This is it men!” Captain Gallor called to them. “Make me proud! Make me proud!”
“Yes sir!” they all shouted. Abdel was surprised to hear Imoen’s voice. He looked over and saw that the auburn-headed young woman struggled in the storm.
The company carried Khalid along the wooden wall, to a makeshift gatehouse. Franklin and Jacob pounded on the gate and shouted. Finally, a slot in the door opened and beady eyes peered out. Abdel could not hear what was said over the storm, but soon the door of the gatehouse opened and they carried Khalid inside.
Sheltered from the storm, Abdel made ready to set the stretcher down in the gatehouse, but Captain Gallor stopped him. “Not yet men!” he called to all of them, but his eyes on Abdel. “We take him to my private tent! Arnold, fetch the priests for me! This man needs the mercies of a priest! Go!”
The man that Abdel took to be Arnold looked as though he might say something, but then thought better of it. He went off to complete his charge. Franklin and Jacob led them out the other side of the gatehouse and back into the rain. Abdel groaned as the rain pounded, but was relieved that the stone wall to the south provided the camp with a measure of protection against the wind.
They carried Khalid to a large brown tent. A guard saluted them as they approached and at Gallor’s command, opened the tent flap so that they could enter. Abdel was relieved to be out of the rain. He was frozen, soaked, and his muscles were terribly sore. Together, the four men eased Khalid onto the captain’s own bed.
“Franklin, fetch Jeremy. He knows something about bandaging.” the captain said. “Abdel, help me get these wet clothes off him! Jacob, fetch my blanket. This man will catch his death if we do not act fast!”
Together Abdel and the mercenaries stripped Khaid of his wet clothes. A mercenary in his later thirties arrived moments later to help with the dressings of his bandages. “This man won’t live for more than a day or so,” he told the captain.
“Then we are fortunate to have the priests,” Captain Gallor said. He looked around. “Where is Arnold? The priests should have been here by now. Where are they? Why aren’t they here now?”
Abdel saw the mercenary named Jeremy give the captain a stunned look, but he turned away and found a part of Khalid’s bandage to tend to. Just as the captain had begun to instruct Jacob to find the priests instead, Arnold returned.
“Sir...Mister Nib wishes to see you.” the mercenary said.
“Now is not the time for that boy!” the mercenary captain thundered. “Where are those priests? This man is in dire need! If you have not, fetch them at once! Take Franklin and Jacob with you if they refuse and drag them out if need be!”
“Sir, Mister Nib wishes to speak to you about the priests.” Arnold said.
The mercenary captain’s face seemed to fall. For a moment, Abdel thought he could see an unspoken fear on the man’s face. It lasted for only a moment. “Very well. Abdel, Imoen! Come with me. These three will see to your friend--you stay too Arnold. I know where Charles’s tent is. If he is to deny us the use of his priests, I will have him tell it to me and those who care for the man.”
The three of them were out in the cold rain and wind again. Abdel and Imoen followed on Captain Gallor’s heel. The captain lead them to one of the cabins and knocked loudly. Abdel heard a faint shout come from within. The door opened and the captain indicated them to enter. Inside, the cabin was warm and well furnished. A small bed, desk, and couch--as well as some chairs had been brought for the cabin. Pelts covered the wooden floor and several chests lined the opposite wall, with a matching one at the foot of the bed.
In one of the large comfortable chairs sat a man with chestnut brown hair and dark intelligent eyes. He wore spectacles, despite being only perhaps middle aged. He was dressed in fine leggings, boots, and tunic. He kept a trimmed beard that matched his hair. Upon their arrival, the man looked puzzled. “Who is this?” he demanded. “I have no time for these strangers. Or are they new workers? Or...or are they the thieves who have been pilfering my discovers?”
“None of those,” Captain Gallor said. “They are travelers who had been waylaid by bandits on their way to Nashkel. I found them by Fisherman’s Lake.”
The man deflated. “Oh, well my sympathies.” he said, his voice lacking any emotion and went back to studying an old book that had fallen in his lap.
“You wanted to speak to me Mister Nib?” The captain demanded.
“Oh?” the scholar looked up from his book. “I did? About what?”
“About the priests man!” the captain proclaimed. “Have you forgotten already? Arnold said you needed to speak to me about them. Hurry, I am in need of their healing talents.”
“Well, I’m afraid they can’t help you.” Mister Nib said. He looked from the captain to Abdel to Imoen.
“What? Why man?” the captain demanded. “The life of their fellow hangs in the balance! What is so important that they cannot keep a man from death’s door?”
“Well you see captain,” Mister Nib said. “They’re dead.”
“Torm’s gauntlet, it’s worse than I thought!” Captain Gallor said. He looked down at the wounded and shaking Khalid. He turned to his two men. “He does not have much time. Franklin, assist this man and his woman in--”
“She’s not my woman…” Abdel protested.
“--packing. Jacob, your flask. Yes, I know you have it. Do you take me for a fool? This man is a bigger fan of his drink than you. If he does not get some of it soon, it will kill him before the wound does.”
Jacob handed over the flask. Captain Gallor leaned down and gently poured some into Khalid’s mouth and helped him swallow. “There. I ask for your forgiveness Jacob. He will need every drop if we are to get him back to camp in safety. I will replace it myself.”
Jacob gave a firm nod. “Think nothing of it captain.”
Gallor gave him a firm nod. “Thank you. Now, you two get to packing. The priests told me that the storm would return before noon. We do not have much time. Quickly! Leave anything that we do not need!”
Spurred on by the captain, Abdel, Imoen, and the mercenaries broke down the camp. Franklin and Jacob were brutal in tossing away anything that was too cumbersome and not of immediate need. After they had finished the four of them rejoined the captain, who had begun to carve up Khalid’s tent for a stretcher. Franklin and Jacob left and returned several minutes later with two thick, roughly straight branches to be used as poles to carry Khalid.
“We will have to make quick work of this lads,” Captain Gallor said as they placed Khalid as gently as possible into the makeshift stretcher. “Franklin and Jacob, you know this area better than I. You will lead us. Abdel and I shall take the rear.”
“What about me?” Imoen asked. “I want to help too.”
Captain Gallor smiled at her “Your beauty is enough dear girl, but if you wish to do more, carry all that you can and keep a sharp eye. We will need to keep our burden light and another pair of eyes is always welcome.”
Imoen blushed.
They had covered Khalid in the driest clothes and cloaks that they could find in the camp and set off with Khalid at once. The progress was slow at first thanks to Abdel’s inexperience with maneuvering a stretcher and the difficulty in carrying it through the woods. Captain Gallor patiently instructed Abdel and the pace picked up. Ten minutes later, the trees began to thin out and Abdel saw a wide plain infrequently peppered with trees. Ahead of them, Abdel saw a tall plateau, of which many trees grew around.
“Our camp is on the other side of that plateau,” Captain Gallor said. With his free hand, he pointed to the sky, “The storm will be upon us soon. It will take us half an hour to reach the trees around the plateau and half as long to reach the camp from there, if the weather is favorable.”
“Talos doesn’t seem intent upon that,” Jacob observed.
“We should go around the north,” Franklin said. “The plateau will shield us from the wind.”
“I do not trust that way,” Captain Gallor said. “There are too many caves in the north end for my comfort. We will have to trust to our own endurance and to Illmater in his pity upon us. C’mon lads, let us show this pretty lass what men of the Iron Helm is made of!”
Jacob and Franklin gave a shout. They picked up the pace.
Overhead the storm gathered power. The clouds begin to spin faster and faster in the sky. Lightning raced along the dark surface of the storm like intricate webs of light. The wind picked up and Abdel had to pull his cloak down so he could see easily. The light rain had turned into infrequent raindrops that promised a torrential downpour.
“You came all this way looking for bandits?” Imoen asked.
“Our camp has been attacked by cowards in the night,” Captain Gallor said. “Every night for the past tenday, cowards have stolen into our camp and made off with supplies.”
“What if it’s someone in camp?” Abdel asked.
“I had feared that too,” Captain Gallor said. “Although I trust my men with my life, it was my duty to see to it that their possessions were examined first--Torm’s Sabaton, my men were straight and narrow. Though perhaps they had brought more liquor than I cared to know.”
Jacob flushed and looked away. Captain Gallor laughed, “But that is the nature of our business my young man! You look like a strong young arm. If after this business of yours is concluded, I would ask that you join our group! We could use a man like you!”
Abdel felt his face grow hot. “Why thank you sir, I would be honored.”
The captain reached over and gave him a friendly punch on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear!”
“Why are you out here to begin with, if you don’t mind me asking?” Imoen said.
“Of course young miss!” Captain Gallor said, he gave Imoen a smile. “By the looks of it, you too were raised in Candlekeep with Abdel. Is this not true?”
“It is,” Imoen said. “Gorion always taught me to ask questions.”
Abdel couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.
Gallor raised an amused brow. “What is so funny Abdel? Come, share the joke!”
Abdel grinned, “He taught Imoen through example; bombarding her whenever he caught her nipping something that wasn’t hers.”
“Abdel!” Imoen gasped, her face went scarlet. “Don’t say that!”
The men laughed. “So we found a thief after all!” Franklin said.
“Aye!” Jacob said. He gave Imoen a look over and turned his head to the captain, “Should I take her into custody sir? I swear I won’t take my eyes off her.”
“You haven’t yet!” Franklin said.
Imoen was speechless. Abdel couldn’t tell if she was flattered or outraged. Perhaps a bit of both. Captain Gallor laughed. “Now men! Mind your manners! Words like this is why the women of Beregost do not come out into the streets when we visit!”
The men chuckled. Jacob looked to Imoen, “I beg your pardon, pretty miss. I speak only in jest, though I was honest about your beauty.”
Imoen mumbled something. Captain Gallor gave another chuckle. “As pretty as she is shy! What is it that you had wanted to ask me young miss?”
Imoen suddenly remembered what they had been talking about. “Why are you three even out this far from...well, anything?”
“Ah!” Captain Gallr said. “As I mentioned to your companion, we are offering our services to some scholars from Waterdeep. They have an interest in some ruins on the other side of that plateau. Apparently there used to be an old settlement near here. A Mister Charleston Nib paid for our protection and we have been out here for the better part of a month, excavating old ruins.”
“Sounds easy,” Abdel said.
“Aye, easy pay!” Jacob said, “Until the thefts and disappearances started happening.”
“Disappearances? Thefts?” Abdel said. “I’ve been wondering about that. These bandits act like none of those that we have met upon the road.”
“The cowards sneak into our camp while we sleep and pilfer the artifacts that the scholars uncover,” Franklin said. “The stuffy bastards accused us of doing it! But they didn’t find a single artifact! We don’t want their damned old trash!”
“Well, apart from the captain’s new sword that is.” Jacob said.
“Yeah, well, that’s different!” Franklin said. “It’s a beautiful peace.”
Abdel looked to Captain Gallor. The captain smiled sheepishly and indicated a sheathed sword at his belt. It had a beaten copper handle with a simple crossguard and a sapphire embedded in the pommel. The sheath suggested that the sword was about a foot longer than the typical arming sword.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Captain Gallor said fondly of the sword. “Remarkably sharp for its age. The priests said it held a mild enchantment. I admit, I fell in love with the sword the moment I laid my hands upon it. The balance, the handle, the steel!”
“Poor Michelle has a new competitor for her husband’s love,” Franklin said.
Captain Gallor laughed.
As the company made swift progress across the field, Abdel felt a strange sense of unease come over him. I feel like I’m being watched, he thought to himself. Eventually, his gaze was drawn up to the plateau. It was dark and ominous in the light of the storm. The had neared the trees at its feet when the downpour came. Abdel gasped as he was soaked in a matter of seconds. He struggled to grab for his cloak hood, but the wind made it impossible. Abdel watched as Franklin’s cloak came free and was blown high into the sky and over the field.
“Hells!” Franklin yelled.
“Keep going men! Keep going!” Captain Gallor called over the storm. “It only gets worse from here!”
The wind howled and the rain pounded down upon them, but the company endured. As they marched, Abdel couldn’t help but admire the captain and his men. They endured the storm without complaint or asking for a break. The wind grew worse when they reached the south of the plateau, as the wind seemed to hit the rock wall and fly back against them. It wasn’t long before Abdel too lost his cloak. Abdel gasped and tried to snatch it, but it was blown up and spun overhead.
“Forget it lad!” Captain Gallor called. “By Torm! Push forward! We are almost there!”
“Yes sir!” Abdel shouted back and endured the rain pounding on his unsheltered body.
Finally the company saw the camp. The plateau had two natural rough walls of rock that
extended west like great arms, leaving a small gap at its farthest end. Between this gap of natural rock stood a built wooden wall made from trunks of trees. From within the wall Abdel saw the lights of a camp.
“There it is!” Jacob yelled.
“Almost there!” Franklin called out.
“This is it men!” Captain Gallor called to them. “Make me proud! Make me proud!”
“Yes sir!” they all shouted. Abdel was surprised to hear Imoen’s voice. He looked over and saw that the auburn-headed young woman struggled in the storm.
The company carried Khalid along the wooden wall, to a makeshift gatehouse. Franklin and Jacob pounded on the gate and shouted. Finally, a slot in the door opened and beady eyes peered out. Abdel could not hear what was said over the storm, but soon the door of the gatehouse opened and they carried Khalid inside.
Sheltered from the storm, Abdel made ready to set the stretcher down in the gatehouse, but Captain Gallor stopped him. “Not yet men!” he called to all of them, but his eyes on Abdel. “We take him to my private tent! Arnold, fetch the priests for me! This man needs the mercies of a priest! Go!”
The man that Abdel took to be Arnold looked as though he might say something, but then thought better of it. He went off to complete his charge. Franklin and Jacob led them out the other side of the gatehouse and back into the rain. Abdel groaned as the rain pounded, but was relieved that the stone wall to the south provided the camp with a measure of protection against the wind.
They carried Khalid to a large brown tent. A guard saluted them as they approached and at Gallor’s command, opened the tent flap so that they could enter. Abdel was relieved to be out of the rain. He was frozen, soaked, and his muscles were terribly sore. Together, the four men eased Khalid onto the captain’s own bed.
“Franklin, fetch Jeremy. He knows something about bandaging.” the captain said. “Abdel, help me get these wet clothes off him! Jacob, fetch my blanket. This man will catch his death if we do not act fast!”
Together Abdel and the mercenaries stripped Khaid of his wet clothes. A mercenary in his later thirties arrived moments later to help with the dressings of his bandages. “This man won’t live for more than a day or so,” he told the captain.
“Then we are fortunate to have the priests,” Captain Gallor said. He looked around. “Where is Arnold? The priests should have been here by now. Where are they? Why aren’t they here now?”
Abdel saw the mercenary named Jeremy give the captain a stunned look, but he turned away and found a part of Khalid’s bandage to tend to. Just as the captain had begun to instruct Jacob to find the priests instead, Arnold returned.
“Sir...Mister Nib wishes to see you.” the mercenary said.
“Now is not the time for that boy!” the mercenary captain thundered. “Where are those priests? This man is in dire need! If you have not, fetch them at once! Take Franklin and Jacob with you if they refuse and drag them out if need be!”
“Sir, Mister Nib wishes to speak to you about the priests.” Arnold said.
The mercenary captain’s face seemed to fall. For a moment, Abdel thought he could see an unspoken fear on the man’s face. It lasted for only a moment. “Very well. Abdel, Imoen! Come with me. These three will see to your friend--you stay too Arnold. I know where Charles’s tent is. If he is to deny us the use of his priests, I will have him tell it to me and those who care for the man.”
The three of them were out in the cold rain and wind again. Abdel and Imoen followed on Captain Gallor’s heel. The captain lead them to one of the cabins and knocked loudly. Abdel heard a faint shout come from within. The door opened and the captain indicated them to enter. Inside, the cabin was warm and well furnished. A small bed, desk, and couch--as well as some chairs had been brought for the cabin. Pelts covered the wooden floor and several chests lined the opposite wall, with a matching one at the foot of the bed.
In one of the large comfortable chairs sat a man with chestnut brown hair and dark intelligent eyes. He wore spectacles, despite being only perhaps middle aged. He was dressed in fine leggings, boots, and tunic. He kept a trimmed beard that matched his hair. Upon their arrival, the man looked puzzled. “Who is this?” he demanded. “I have no time for these strangers. Or are they new workers? Or...or are they the thieves who have been pilfering my discovers?”
“None of those,” Captain Gallor said. “They are travelers who had been waylaid by bandits on their way to Nashkel. I found them by Fisherman’s Lake.”
The man deflated. “Oh, well my sympathies.” he said, his voice lacking any emotion and went back to studying an old book that had fallen in his lap.
“You wanted to speak to me Mister Nib?” The captain demanded.
“Oh?” the scholar looked up from his book. “I did? About what?”
“About the priests man!” the captain proclaimed. “Have you forgotten already? Arnold said you needed to speak to me about them. Hurry, I am in need of their healing talents.”
“Well, I’m afraid they can’t help you.” Mister Nib said. He looked from the captain to Abdel to Imoen.
“What? Why man?” the captain demanded. “The life of their fellow hangs in the balance! What is so important that they cannot keep a man from death’s door?”
“Well you see captain,” Mister Nib said. “They’re dead.”
Hoo boy!
Finally got that double update I wanted. That has us all caught up for now. Things seem to be settling down and I'm getting my rhythm back, so let's hope this doesn't happen for a good long time! Anyway, I know these two chapters have no action, so my apologies for that, it's just how the story structure seems to be going here. The next two chapters will hopefully be more exciting.
I hope you all enjoy!
Finally got that double update I wanted. That has us all caught up for now. Things seem to be settling down and I'm getting my rhythm back, so let's hope this doesn't happen for a good long time! Anyway, I know these two chapters have no action, so my apologies for that, it's just how the story structure seems to be going here. The next two chapters will hopefully be more exciting.
I hope you all enjoy!
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
It has been some time since I last played BG, but from what I remember I noticed two side quests, I hope at least one of them goes better. And no Doomsayer.
Chapter Twelve
The rain forced Jaheira awake. She inhaled suddenly, rolled over and vomited. Waves of pain passed through her chest and for a moment Jaheira thought she would lose consciousness again. She laid on the ground for longer than she could count, unable to focus and feeling as though she would slip back into the darkness. Somehow, she rolled onto her back again and found herself staring up at the sky. Lightning flashed across the sky.
I’m dying. She thought vaguely to herself. She slowly closed her eyes, ready to be at peace with the Cycle. I’m not dead yet.
Jaheira’s eyes opened again. The realization hit her hard, enough to focus her mind and give her the small piece of will to keep from slipping under again. She tried to get up, but she immediately grew lightheaded and pain shot through her chest and legs. It was all she could do to keep herself from vomiting again.
She relaxed back on the ground. Her muscles ached. She just wanted to lay down and sleep. She shook her head, rubbing her hair into the mud. Resting won’t bring me strength. She told herself. I am dying.
Slowly and carefully, Jaheira forced herself to sit up. Doing so made her dizzy and when she had finally done so, she had nearly forgotten why she had. Focus, focus! She chided herself. She searched and remembered what she was doing. She took stock of her situation. The legging on her wounded leg was soaked in blood and much of it had gotten on the rest of her.
The bastard must have missed the artery or just nicked it, Jaheria thought to herself. Otherwise, I would already be dead. The reminder of what had happened brought hot rage to her mind. That bastard! I’ll kill him for this! No god will save him if he touches Khalid! The anger gave her strength and focus. She looked up at the sky again. It was near impossible to tell what time it was, but Jaheira knew that it was late.
I could not have slept the whole night away. She thought to herself. Therefore, I will have to survive till morning. When the sun breaks over the dawn, I will be able to call upon new spells.
Until then, she would need to bind her leg to prevent the flow of blood from leaving her body. Jaheira searched for anything she might use. She had given her pack to Imoen to keep herself light when she fought the bandits, but now she regretted having done so. She had nothing dry to which to bind the wound. Even the tunic beneath her leather had gotten wet. Deciding that at least her tunic was likely to be the cleanest thing she was wearing, Jaheira carefully stripped off her cloak, the buffer coat, and drew the tunic up and over her head.
Ripping it into strips, Jaheira carefully bound her leg to stem the bleeding. Jaheira knew the binding to be poor, but she had little other options. Jaheira drew her buffer coat back on and then the cloak. She flinched at the abrasive texture of the buffer coat, but kept it on regardless. Better to have raw skin than to catch her death.
Next, Jaheira searched for someplace to sleep. She knew that she did not have the strength or the steady leg to catch up with the others. She knew that there were no caves nor shelter that she could reach. Nor could she hope to climb a tree. Instead, Jaheira looked for some bushes that might provide some protection from the wind and rain. A few yards away, she spotted two trees and several nearby growing bushes that looked as though they might provided some protection.
Jaheira tried to get to her feet, but she found that any pressure on her foot sent hot pain through her entire leg. Crawling on all fours was worse. Cursing, Jaheira refused to give up. Keeping her wounded leg as straight as possible, she used her remaining three limbs to drag herself to the bushes. Occasionally, some poor movement would send a shot of pain through her leg. Each time Jaheira gritted her teeth to keep from screaming and remained still until the pain passed.
When Jaheira reached the bushes, her heart fell. They were covered in thorns. She scanned for any other shelter she might reach. She was already tired from having dragged herself the short distance and the pain from her leg had left her shaking. She lowered her head and prayed for strength.
Slowly, Jaheira dragged herself into the bushes. Her hair caught on branches and thorns. Jaheira did not try to free her hair with her hands, but kept crawingling slowly and tried to adjust her head to free what she could. Her buffer coat protected her torso, but they cut through her leggings. Each inch became harder as more and more of her caught upon the thorns and branches.
Jaheira did not give up, but pressed further. Halfway through, she felt her cloak come away. Jaheira cursed and tried to grab at the cloak to pull it free, but succeeded only in cutting her hand on the thorns. Wincing, Jaheira gave up on the cloak and continued into the center of the patch of bushes, where mercifully, a small cavity between the lower branches existed.
Relieved, Jaheira curved up as best she could with her wounded leg and closed her eyes to rest. Jaheira fell in and out of sleep, troubled by fears of never waking up combined with the harsh storm penetrating her feeble shelter. The cold and rain dulled her senses and she might have never woke, had not the appointed hour arrived.
The natural connection between Jaheira and the land opened at the hour of dawn. It was dim at first, so much that Jaheira had not realized it in her feeble mindset, but as the hur grew closer, she became more and more aware. She felt the ground beneath her, the thorn bushes around her, the trees that sheltered her, and even the very storm that had at that very moment, blown itself out.
Jaheira forced her eyes open. She searched and found her mistletoe. It was half-ruined and would make a poor conductor for her faith, but it was all that she had. She clutched it close to her chest and prayed to the great spirits of the world for their power. From all around her the energy flowed. Jaheira was surprised at the strength of the flow. It seemed that despite the damaged mistletoe, she was able to make her connection just fine. Jaheira wondered if it was her near death state or perhaps having survived the harsh environment.
Whatever the cause, Jaheira felt the power return to her. She prayed almost exclusively for healing magic, far more than she had ever remembered praying for before in her life. The power filled her. When the our passed, Jaheira felt at peace. She held up the mistletoe and gasped in amazement. The damaged mistletoe had been restored. It was as if she had picked it fresh from the branch. She smiled.
“I will not die,” she told herself.
Jaheira spoke the prayers to her healing magic again and again. Each time she channeled it into her wounded leg. She winced and cried as the bone shards were drawn back to their rightful position and mended. She poured all the healing she had into her leg. The pain eased and she felt her head grow clear. When at last she had finished, she laid on the ground for an unknown period of time.
When at last she gathered herself, she tested the strength of her leg. No pain. She had managed to heal it with her limited magic. Careful to shield her face, Jaheira slowly got to her feet. The thorns pulled at her, but she ignored them. The rain had all but stopped and the wind had fallen to a gentle breeze. Jaheira closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She felt at peace.
Drawing upon her druidic powers, Jaheira reached down through the thorn bushes and drew out her cloak with ease. Then, still untouched by the branches and thorns she stepped out of the bushes. She shook the thorns and branches free of the cloak and threw it over her. She had expended most of her magic in healing herself, but she had saved several spells for Montaron.
“You are strong. I had thought you dead.”
Jaheira jumped at the sound of the soft voice. She turned, hand on her mistletoe. She stared blankly at the face of a round, dark haired beauty. She was shorter than even Jaheira, dressed in a white robe and red trousers. In one hand she held a staff, in the other a set of prayer beads.
“Who are you? What do you want with me?” she demanded. Even as she asked, Jaheira’s eyes darted back and forth. Were others with her? Was there any path to flight or that could provide cover?
“I am known as Tamoko,” the woman said. “I would have you tell me where Abdel, Son of Gorion has gone to. Speak and I will leave you in peace.”
Jaheira’s suspicions solidified. Her anger flared up. “You were there. You killed Gorion.”
The woman bowed her head. “His death was a necessary evil. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Never.”
Tamoko gave a low sigh. “I feared so.” She said. “I had hoped to divine the boy directly, but somehow my divinations are limited in this storm. It seems some sort of curse or divine will drives it. I had hoped to interrogate your spirit.”
Jaheira stared daggers at the woman. “Sorry to disappoint.”
The woman shrugged. “It could not be helped. But then...neither can this.”
The woman raised her prayer beads and spoke a prayer. Jaheira cursed and turned to leap through the bushes. She had not taken more than two steps when something hard struck her in the back. Jaheira grunted and stumbled. A yellow glow flashed over her body. Jaheira tried to resist the magic, but the spell was stronger than any she had ever felt before. Every muscle in her body locked up. Only her lungs and eyes were able to move.
“I will make this as painless as possible,” Tamoko promised. She walked around the tree and bushes to look at Jaheira head on. “Were the situation any different, I would spare you, but I must be sure that what you tell me is the truth.”
With one hand, the woman brought the staff’s head down into the closest thorn bush. There was a flash and the branches were blasted from the small shrub, sending branches and thorns flying everywhere. The woman took a step further and raised her staff over Jaheira.
“I will kill you with one strike,” she promised. “It will be painless. It is the least I can do for you.”
Jaheira’s heart pounded. No. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this! Khalid!
The staff descended.
“Halt!”
The staff stopped just a hair short.
The shou woman turned. A man in plate armor stood no more than twenty yards. He wore a great steel helm with dragon wings on the side. In one hand he held a kite shield and in the other a gleaming sword. He stared daggers at the shou woman.
“Though women you both are,” the man proclaimed. “I cannot stand by and allow a coward to strike down someone who is defenseless.”
The shou woman quickly recovered. “Do not interfere. I do what I do for love.”
“Love? Nay, not love.” The man said. He began to approach. “The darkness that I see within you is not from love, but pride and jealousy. I can feel the prickling in my fingers and the pain behind my eyes.”
The shou woman’s calm face suddenly shifted to one of rage. “What would you know? Pompous bastard! Begone!”
The warrior’s face was grim. “And so you reveal your true feelings. The darkness within you spreads like a weed, choking out the flower of the soul.”
“Enough!” the shou woman pointed her staff and spat out a prayer. A pale yellow light leapt from the tip of her staff. The warrior jerked in surprise, but could not hope to evade the beam. He stumbled as the yellow ray set his body aglow with pale yellow light. The warrior’s face twisted and he bared his teeth as he fought the spell. The light spread quickly, but then slowed, stopped, and vanished.
The shou woman gasped. “What? How is this possible?”
“Your spell is as thin as the lie of your motivation in love,” the warrior told her.
The shou woman hissed and spat out another prayer, though instead a blue light radiated from her. She spat out a second prayer and a golden aura engulfed her and the blue light. “
The warrior stood tall and proud, unbothered by the shou woman’s show of magic. “Know woman, that I am Squire Ajantis Ilvastarr, Junior Inquisitor of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.”
“Your title means nothing to me!” the shou woman raced at the squire. The squire held up his sword and spoke, “Helm, strip this witch of her dark powers!”
A bright brilliant lime green light leapt from the tip of the blade and struck the shou woman. The golden aura winked out, followed by the blue glow. The shou woman did show any sign of slowing; she swung at the warrior. The squire raised his kite shield to block the blow. There was a flash and the shield exploded. Splints rained on both of them. The squire stumbled backwards, surprised.
“Sorcery!” he cried.
“Victory!” the shou woman screeched. She swung for his head.
“Helm save me!” the warrior shouted.
A bright light erupted from the squire’s helmet. The iron helm vanished and was replaced with one of silver, covered in diamonds, rubies, and beautiful opals. The shou woman stumbled, startled and stumbling. She screamed in rage.
“Bastard! My eyes!”
The squire delivered a hard blow to the woman’s torso. The priestess screamed and collapsed to the ground. The junior inquisitor drove a fist into her face, knocking her out cold and dropping her to the ground. The squire looked down upon her, pitiless. Jaheira waited for him deliver the final blow, but he instead sheathed his sword and walked to Jaheira. He raised a gauntlet and Jaheira saw that each gauntlet bore an elegant eye of blue and gold.
“Helm, break the hold this witch has over this woman.” he spoke.
Another flash of blue light and Jaheira suddenly her muscles relaxed, freed from the paralyzing spell. Jaheira felt her legs give out, but a strong arm caught her and steadied her. “Milady,” he told her, “May I be of assistance?”
Jaheira looked at the young man.
“Yes,” she told him. “My husband and our friends might be in serious danger. We must go to them.”
“Lead the way.”
*************
Abdel paced in the captain’s tent. His mind replayed what the scholar had told them; the priests were dead. The two priests had been brutally murdered; their heads had been caved in with the hilt of a sword, their bodies mutilated, and their holy symbols destroyed. More gruesome, the killer had cut away their tongues and had seemingly kept them. The scholar had apparently tried to keep the news from spreading throughout the camp, but Abdel had a feeling that everyone already knew--at least the soldiers did. The looks they had exchanged when they’d seen Khalid had suggested as such.
“We have to do something,” Abdel said.
“What else can we do?” Imoen said. “The priests are dead Abdel.”
“Get a message to Beregost, like we had planned to,” Abdel said.
“No one is going out in this storm,” Imoen said glumly.
“If you aren’t going to think of something useful to say, than don’t speak!” Abdel snapped. Abdel regretted his words. Imoen dropped her head into her hands and didn’t say anything else. Abdel thought he could see her shoulders shaking.
Abdel sighed, but he was too angry with her to apologize. I have to save him. He told himself. I have to save him...or all of this will have been for nothing.
The door flap opened and Captain Gallor walked in. Worry lines had set themselves deep in his otherwise smooth face. He looked to Abdel, then to Imoen and Khalid. He looked back to Abdel, “I have spoken with my men. I fear we have no means of healing apart from what our hands can accomplish.”
Abdel’s heart fell. “Not even a potion?”
“No. None.” Captain Gallor said.
Abdel made a decision. “Then I’ll go to Beregost. There will be priests there who can help him! If you lend me a horse, I’ll get there on my own.”
“You don’t know how to ride Abdel.” Imoen said, her voice flat. She gave Abdel a dull, defeated look. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Abdel ignored her. “Captain, I swear I will return with the horse and a priest. Trust me.”
The captain took a deep breath. “Nothing would please me more Abdel, but I cannot risk losing anymore horses...six of my nine are dead.”
“Six?!” Abdel gasped. “How?”
Gallor’s face grew dark. “The saboteurs had targeted our horses first. I had thought it merely a tactic to remove communication with Beregost...but now I fear a darker intent behind it.”
“Captain, I need a horse.” Abdel said.
“I understand how you feel Abdel,” Captain Gallor said. “But I cannot do that.”
“Then I will go on foot!” Abdel proclaimed. He shot a look at Imoen, “Alone, if need be.”
Gallor stopped Abdel with an arm on his shoulder. “Abdel! Please! Listen to me! I cannot lend you a horse, but I have not given up hope! I will send Franklin and Jacob in your stead. They are fast riders and know the land well. They will fetch the priests we need. I swear it!”
“What? Jacob and Franklin?” Abdel said, shocked. “But captain, he is my friend. At least let me take a third horse or go in place of one of them!”
The captain tightened his hold on Abdel. “I understand how you feel Abdel, but you must trust us. You must trust me.”
Abdel felt himself flush. His eyes found the floor.
“Stay here by Khalid’s side,” the captain said. “He needs you here. My men will make a hard ride to Beregost. It may take a day or so, even with horses for them to return. Please. You would not forgive yourself if he passed on while you were away.”
Abdel wanted to go. He couldn’t stand around staring at the dying man. The guilt ate away at him. Maybe he’s right though, Abdel thought. I barely know these people. Leaving him and Imoen here...is this just my ego talking?
The captain gave him a gentle shake. “Sometimes the hardest fight is the one we must fight in the silence before the storm.”
Abdel looked up and saw the truth in the captain’s eyes. He relaxed a bit. “Thank you captain...please, if there is any way I can help...tell me.”
The captain nodded knowingly. “Now that you say so, I will be down two men with Franklin and Jacob away. We number only a dozen, with half on guard and half off at any given time. If you wish, I would have you take the place of one of them. I sense a warrior in you Abdel, I would welcome you.”
“I want to help too!” Imoen protested.
The captain frowned. “You are a spirited young lady,” he told her, “But this is men’s work. It is gruesome and demanding. Would you not rather stay here and watch over your friend?”
Imoen shook her head. “I can’t just sit here either. I would go mad. And...and I don’t want to be a burden. I want to help too.”
The captain smiled. He seemed thoughtful. “Very well. I will see what can be done. I expect that Nib might give me a fight on this...but you are both from Candlekeep. Perhaps that might intrigue him. My men had little love for him, perhaps I should assign you to him.”
“That would be fine,” Abdel said, happy to be able to do anything.
Jacob and Franklin were led out by the captain an hour later. “I will see them past the north end of the plateau,” he had explained to Abdel. “Those caves hold dangerous things, I know. I have assigned you two to Mister Nib. Go to him and see to it that he remains safe. He tells me that another day or so and we will have uncovered the inner sanctum of the temple.”
Abdel and Imoen were taken by another mercenary to the plateau. Abdel looked up in awe at the plateau as they approached. Some ancient culture had built a massive temple into the very plateau itself. A great statue had been carved into the plateau’s stone; that of a great-broad shouldered man with a full head of hair and a long flowing beard that ran to his belt. He wore ancient armor over his torso and stood with one side extended. His right hand grasped a rod as tall as he, made out of pure iron. Abdel marveled at the skill and determination it must have taken to craft such a giant staff. The staff was ornate, but Abdel could not make out any details.
Across the entire surface of the plateau, images portrayed stories. Abdel had no time to examine even a tenth of them, but he saw many images of the statue figure raising a staff to a tidal wave or a volcanic eruption or an earthquake. Abdel could not tell if the figure was savior or destroyer. Soon they were at the entrance of the temple.
The temple may have once had great doors, but if they had, they had long ago vanished. Instead only two stone pillars held up the natural rock cavern into the plateau. Inside they found the first chamber. The chamber itself was not adorned, save for the wall, which was covered ground to ceiling with faces; some grinned, others grimaced, others seemed to scream, others laughed, and so on. Every range of emotion seemed to be portrayed there. In the middle of the room was a great iron shaft. Abdel gasped when he realized that the shaft was in the same position as the statue’s staff outside.
Mister Nib awaited them in the chamber. “Ah, you have arrived at last. Welcome to my discovery! Yes, yes, that is the staff you saw outside. Brilliant isn’t it? To think that anyone could have constructed such a thing ages ago.”
Abdel looked up and was taken by surprise; several wide holes stared down from the ceiling. “Are those…”
“Murder holes, yes.” Mister Nib said.
“Murder holes?” Imoen asked.
“Candlekeep has them,” Abdel explained, “They’re used in gatehouses so that the defenders can attack from a higher floor than the invaders. It turns the entire room into a death trap.”
“What are they doing here? I thought this was a temple.” Imoen said.
Mister Nib smiled. “Many temples were both many ages ago. Many still are.”
“Then there is a second floor?” Abdel asked.
The scholar chuckled. “There are many floors young man.”
“How do we reach it?” Abdel asked.
“Follow me,” Mister Nib said. He held up his lantern and led them around the iron shaft. Abdel gasped. On the other side of the iron shaft was an iron door! The door had been opened, but Abdel could see on the inside of the door many bolts and mechanisms to secure the door from invaders.
“You see?” Mister Nib said. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
Abdel nodded. “It’s beautiful!”
“What is?” Imoen asked.
Mister Nib led them into the shaft; within lay an iron spiral staircase that led to the second floor. “This.” he told Imoen. “Is the only way to the higher floors. To reach the second floor the invaders would have had to of braved the first room and its murder holes and...if you look above us, you can see more murder holes. And if you were to follow me...yes, that’s right, right this way...you can see a second iron door!”
On the second floor, Abdel saw the small room was not so decorated, save for a ring of faces around the top of the ceiling that portrayed rage. In the ceiling were more murder holes. “There is another room for defense?” Abdel asked.
“Of course,” Mister Nib said. He led them back to the spiral stairs. “If you look closely, you can see that there used to be a door here. I suspect it was made of wood, as it did not survive the ages. It looks as though they might have been able to bar it, but I suspect the door here was a mere delaying tactic. Notice though, the door would be offset from either this level or anyone coming up the stairs. No battering ram could make it up here.”
“Good thinking,” Abdel said.
The scholar led them up to the third iron door, “This is what I have deemed to be the second gatehouse,” he told them.
The second gatehouse was more refined; images of storms and ocean waves covered the walls. A hallway led into darkness. “This was the barracks for the temple’s defenders.” Mister Nib explained. “It was where I personally discovered Captain Gallor’s new sword.”
“He showed us,” Abdel said. “It was a beautiful blade!”
“Yes, it was a fine gift for a good man,” Mister Nib said. “Sadly, I found little else of value here. Up on the fourth floor however…”
They ascended the spiral staircase to the fourth floor, whose walls were decorated in old sailing ships being destroyed by a great storm. Atop the wall was an old dull mural of the mighty bearded man. He held aloft the iron staff and by the looks of it, had seemed to call forth the storm. That room too, held a long corridor that plunged into darkness, though Abdel could tell the hallway was decorated with yet more murals and carvings.
“These I believe were the priest quarters.” Mister Nib said. He pointed to the shaft, “As you can see, there are no murder holes in the floor, but the iron shaft itself is full of holes. I believe that should the defenders have been forced to this floor, they would use spears and arrows to attack the defenders within the shaft. And as you can see, there is an iron door here. It is one of the last lines of defense before we get to the temple proper.”
The three ascended the spiral staircase once more. They emerged out into the high winds of the storm. Above them towered the great god-like figure that the builders had worshiped. Mister Nib struggled against the wind and the rain, shouting and pointing toward a doorway that had been carved into the rock itself.
The three hurried into the shelter of the temple. The naturally carved rock gave way to a pair of iron doors. The doors had been pulled upon and were secured to the wall by chains and pions. They entered into the main chamber, illuminated by many lanterns on the pillars put there by the workers. Three massive pillars on either side of the room helped support the stone vaulted ceiling. Ancient murals had been painted upon the walls. The mural depicted scenes of storms, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, great fires, and many other calamities.
Two wooden double doors were open to the second chamber. Ahead, Abdel heard the sound of men grunting and cursing. Abdel stepped through and found the second chamber to be smaller, but more grand. Wood, silver, and iron were represented all equally in the vaulted ceiling and the pillars. In the center of the room stood three posts; one iron, one wood, and one silver. They stood over a small bowl in the floor, to which many grooves in the ground connected to from the posts. The only exception to the balance of the three materials were the large silver doors to which the workers now banked on with hammers and picks, trying to break open a lock as large as Abdel’s chest, but with no clear opening mechanism.
“What is this place?” Abdel asked.
“It’s not important,” Mister Nibs said. He went to examine the door and the workers. “By the Binder, come look! We’re almost through!”
Abdel breathed a sigh of relief and tried to twist the water out of his cloak. The water fell into the grooves of the floor and ran along their lines. Curious, Abdel watched as they collected in the bowl. He frowned and allowed his gaze to drift to the three poles. Dark spots covered the three poles, with long dark lines that reached down into the floor. Abdel looked to the murals on the wall and saw the images of people tied to the polls, with priests who held daggers. One image depicted the victim’s necks being cut open. The sacrifices pleased the great god they worshiped and the images showed the storms subsiding.
“Lathander…” Abdel gasped.
“Abdel, this place gives me the creeps.” Imoen said.
Abdel thought of telling her, but changed his mind. He didn’t want Imoen to think of what happened in the very chamber they stood in. “Don’t think about it,” he told her.
“Something is very, very wrong here.” Imoen persisted. She sniffed the air. “It smells...no, it feels like something wrong happened here. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t like this feeling.”
Abdel felt it too. He tried not to look at the walls, but felt as if the figures in the murals were staring at him and he couldn't help it. His heart began to race. He looked at the poles and could almost imagine himself being bound to them and the priest stepping forward in his ceremonial garb, with his dagger and…
Abdel shook the image from his head. He grabbed Imoen by the arm and led her away, keeping himself between her and the poles as he did. “C’mon, we’re almost through. The sooner we’re out of this pit, the better.”
At the moment, three of the workers hammered on the door. Behind them stood the nine other workers, who leaned against the room’s pillars or sat on the floor, taking a break. Abdel stopped by one of them and asked. “That is a big door. How long have you fellas been at it?”
The guard looked up at him, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
“Travelers” Abdel told him, “But Mister Nib has asked us to fill in for two of the captain’s men while he sends them on an errand to Beregost for our wounded friend.”
“Ah,” the man said. He looked at the door and shook his head. “We’ve been at that door for three days now. We switch off hitting the damn thing every twenty minutes...but the damn thing is impenetrable. We can’t even get a proper battering ram up through here. The small ones we kept taking up cracked like dry wood.”
“This is a gruesome temple,” Abdel noted.
“Aye lad it is,” the worker said. “And I expect if we knew whose temple we were breaking into, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Why do you say that?” Imoen asked.
“Because Mister Nib knows, but he isn’t telling.” the worker said. “I heard him talking to the boss and that mercenary captain; he’s all excited about this place until they ask whose temple it is...then he suddenly changes the subject or claims not to know or that the god is long gone. Rubbish if you ask me.”
The worker lowered his voice. “They say that even a dead god can hear things. Such as their names. This egg head hasn’t once named the god or gone by one of his titles. In fact, he doesn’t talk about him at all. It’s like he’s afraid that big guy will hear him.”
Abdel found the medallion beneath his gambeson. The holy symbol did not bring him the comfort he had hoped. Instead, it made the very idea of an angry, dead god very real to him. Keldath Ormlyr had told him that the dawn’s destruction of Bassilus’s animated corpses had been a miracle of Lathander. If a benevolent god could do that...what would a dark god who demanded the blood of men do to temple raiders?
“Maybe we should see if Captain Gallor has returned,” Abdel said to Imoen.
Suddenly, a loud bang drew their attention. A shout of joy from Mister Nibs filled the room. “I did it! I did it!” he shouted. “It’s open! It’s open!”
“He did it?” the worker next to Abdel scoffed. He gave Abdel a sour look. “You’d think it was him who was here banging on this door with nothing more than a hammer or a pick axe.”
“He’s a git,” Abdel said venomously.
“Here to men!” shouted the task master. “Let’s get this damned thing open so we can all go home!”
The worker next to Abdel grumbled and got to his feet. “The bonus better be worth it.”
Together the several men pulled at the heavy silver doors. The doors squealed as they were drawn apart; the large round mechanism that had kept them secure was badly dented and inside Abdel could see broken gears.
“Lanterns men! Lanterns!” Mister Nib called. “Abdel! Imoen! Come here! You’ll appreciate this!”
Abdel did not think so, but he and Imoen grabbed up one of the spare lanterns and followed the excitable Mister Nib into the final chamber. Abdel gasped in surprise when cold water poured down on him. He looked up and saw that there was no ceiling in the final chamber, only a great hole that seemed to extend all the way to the surface of the plateau’s top.
“Where’s the floor?” Imoen asked.
Abdel looked down. The chamber was more a narrow bridge that ended at a small altar, upon which sat a carving similar to the one that stood outside the temple. All around them was a great chasm.
“The Bridge of Kozah!” Mister Nib squealed. “Come! Come! Oh! Careful, it is slippery! Hold onto the rail or else you might fall and split your skull!”
Abdel followed the excited scholar. Paranoid about slipping, Abdel stared at the floor as they walked. He sucked in air; a mural had been painted upon the floor of the bridge. Images of bodies with slit throats were depicted being taken to a great hole in the world and tossed down.
“This is where they took the sacrifices and threw them into the abyss!” Mister Nib told them excitedly, forgetting himself.
“Where is the ceiling?” Imoen yelled.
“There is no ceiling!” Mister Nib told them. “The followers of Kozah believed in embracing the storm! This whole temple was designed to withstand the greatest of Kozah’s storms, but in this inner sanctum, his most faithful would expose themselves to the storm again!”
“What kind of god was this?” Imoen asked.
“A dark god,” Abdel answered. His hand went to his hammer and he loosed it.
“And there it is!” Mister Nib cried as he reached the altar. “The Idol of Kozah!”
The scholar yanked the stone idol from its place upon the altar. There was a bright flash of light from far above. Thundered rolled so heavily that Abdel thought that perhaps it had come from below. Mister Nib cradled the small idol and examined its every detail. “This will be the greatest discovery of my lifetime!”
From behind them, Abdel heard howls of anguish.
The rain forced Jaheira awake. She inhaled suddenly, rolled over and vomited. Waves of pain passed through her chest and for a moment Jaheira thought she would lose consciousness again. She laid on the ground for longer than she could count, unable to focus and feeling as though she would slip back into the darkness. Somehow, she rolled onto her back again and found herself staring up at the sky. Lightning flashed across the sky.
I’m dying. She thought vaguely to herself. She slowly closed her eyes, ready to be at peace with the Cycle. I’m not dead yet.
Jaheira’s eyes opened again. The realization hit her hard, enough to focus her mind and give her the small piece of will to keep from slipping under again. She tried to get up, but she immediately grew lightheaded and pain shot through her chest and legs. It was all she could do to keep herself from vomiting again.
She relaxed back on the ground. Her muscles ached. She just wanted to lay down and sleep. She shook her head, rubbing her hair into the mud. Resting won’t bring me strength. She told herself. I am dying.
Slowly and carefully, Jaheira forced herself to sit up. Doing so made her dizzy and when she had finally done so, she had nearly forgotten why she had. Focus, focus! She chided herself. She searched and remembered what she was doing. She took stock of her situation. The legging on her wounded leg was soaked in blood and much of it had gotten on the rest of her.
The bastard must have missed the artery or just nicked it, Jaheria thought to herself. Otherwise, I would already be dead. The reminder of what had happened brought hot rage to her mind. That bastard! I’ll kill him for this! No god will save him if he touches Khalid! The anger gave her strength and focus. She looked up at the sky again. It was near impossible to tell what time it was, but Jaheira knew that it was late.
I could not have slept the whole night away. She thought to herself. Therefore, I will have to survive till morning. When the sun breaks over the dawn, I will be able to call upon new spells.
Until then, she would need to bind her leg to prevent the flow of blood from leaving her body. Jaheira searched for anything she might use. She had given her pack to Imoen to keep herself light when she fought the bandits, but now she regretted having done so. She had nothing dry to which to bind the wound. Even the tunic beneath her leather had gotten wet. Deciding that at least her tunic was likely to be the cleanest thing she was wearing, Jaheira carefully stripped off her cloak, the buffer coat, and drew the tunic up and over her head.
Ripping it into strips, Jaheira carefully bound her leg to stem the bleeding. Jaheira knew the binding to be poor, but she had little other options. Jaheira drew her buffer coat back on and then the cloak. She flinched at the abrasive texture of the buffer coat, but kept it on regardless. Better to have raw skin than to catch her death.
Next, Jaheira searched for someplace to sleep. She knew that she did not have the strength or the steady leg to catch up with the others. She knew that there were no caves nor shelter that she could reach. Nor could she hope to climb a tree. Instead, Jaheira looked for some bushes that might provide some protection from the wind and rain. A few yards away, she spotted two trees and several nearby growing bushes that looked as though they might provided some protection.
Jaheira tried to get to her feet, but she found that any pressure on her foot sent hot pain through her entire leg. Crawling on all fours was worse. Cursing, Jaheira refused to give up. Keeping her wounded leg as straight as possible, she used her remaining three limbs to drag herself to the bushes. Occasionally, some poor movement would send a shot of pain through her leg. Each time Jaheira gritted her teeth to keep from screaming and remained still until the pain passed.
When Jaheira reached the bushes, her heart fell. They were covered in thorns. She scanned for any other shelter she might reach. She was already tired from having dragged herself the short distance and the pain from her leg had left her shaking. She lowered her head and prayed for strength.
Slowly, Jaheira dragged herself into the bushes. Her hair caught on branches and thorns. Jaheira did not try to free her hair with her hands, but kept crawingling slowly and tried to adjust her head to free what she could. Her buffer coat protected her torso, but they cut through her leggings. Each inch became harder as more and more of her caught upon the thorns and branches.
Jaheira did not give up, but pressed further. Halfway through, she felt her cloak come away. Jaheira cursed and tried to grab at the cloak to pull it free, but succeeded only in cutting her hand on the thorns. Wincing, Jaheira gave up on the cloak and continued into the center of the patch of bushes, where mercifully, a small cavity between the lower branches existed.
Relieved, Jaheira curved up as best she could with her wounded leg and closed her eyes to rest. Jaheira fell in and out of sleep, troubled by fears of never waking up combined with the harsh storm penetrating her feeble shelter. The cold and rain dulled her senses and she might have never woke, had not the appointed hour arrived.
The natural connection between Jaheira and the land opened at the hour of dawn. It was dim at first, so much that Jaheira had not realized it in her feeble mindset, but as the hur grew closer, she became more and more aware. She felt the ground beneath her, the thorn bushes around her, the trees that sheltered her, and even the very storm that had at that very moment, blown itself out.
Jaheira forced her eyes open. She searched and found her mistletoe. It was half-ruined and would make a poor conductor for her faith, but it was all that she had. She clutched it close to her chest and prayed to the great spirits of the world for their power. From all around her the energy flowed. Jaheira was surprised at the strength of the flow. It seemed that despite the damaged mistletoe, she was able to make her connection just fine. Jaheira wondered if it was her near death state or perhaps having survived the harsh environment.
Whatever the cause, Jaheira felt the power return to her. She prayed almost exclusively for healing magic, far more than she had ever remembered praying for before in her life. The power filled her. When the our passed, Jaheira felt at peace. She held up the mistletoe and gasped in amazement. The damaged mistletoe had been restored. It was as if she had picked it fresh from the branch. She smiled.
“I will not die,” she told herself.
Jaheira spoke the prayers to her healing magic again and again. Each time she channeled it into her wounded leg. She winced and cried as the bone shards were drawn back to their rightful position and mended. She poured all the healing she had into her leg. The pain eased and she felt her head grow clear. When at last she had finished, she laid on the ground for an unknown period of time.
When at last she gathered herself, she tested the strength of her leg. No pain. She had managed to heal it with her limited magic. Careful to shield her face, Jaheira slowly got to her feet. The thorns pulled at her, but she ignored them. The rain had all but stopped and the wind had fallen to a gentle breeze. Jaheira closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She felt at peace.
Drawing upon her druidic powers, Jaheira reached down through the thorn bushes and drew out her cloak with ease. Then, still untouched by the branches and thorns she stepped out of the bushes. She shook the thorns and branches free of the cloak and threw it over her. She had expended most of her magic in healing herself, but she had saved several spells for Montaron.
“You are strong. I had thought you dead.”
Jaheira jumped at the sound of the soft voice. She turned, hand on her mistletoe. She stared blankly at the face of a round, dark haired beauty. She was shorter than even Jaheira, dressed in a white robe and red trousers. In one hand she held a staff, in the other a set of prayer beads.
“Who are you? What do you want with me?” she demanded. Even as she asked, Jaheira’s eyes darted back and forth. Were others with her? Was there any path to flight or that could provide cover?
“I am known as Tamoko,” the woman said. “I would have you tell me where Abdel, Son of Gorion has gone to. Speak and I will leave you in peace.”
Jaheira’s suspicions solidified. Her anger flared up. “You were there. You killed Gorion.”
The woman bowed her head. “His death was a necessary evil. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Never.”
Tamoko gave a low sigh. “I feared so.” She said. “I had hoped to divine the boy directly, but somehow my divinations are limited in this storm. It seems some sort of curse or divine will drives it. I had hoped to interrogate your spirit.”
Jaheira stared daggers at the woman. “Sorry to disappoint.”
The woman shrugged. “It could not be helped. But then...neither can this.”
The woman raised her prayer beads and spoke a prayer. Jaheira cursed and turned to leap through the bushes. She had not taken more than two steps when something hard struck her in the back. Jaheira grunted and stumbled. A yellow glow flashed over her body. Jaheira tried to resist the magic, but the spell was stronger than any she had ever felt before. Every muscle in her body locked up. Only her lungs and eyes were able to move.
“I will make this as painless as possible,” Tamoko promised. She walked around the tree and bushes to look at Jaheira head on. “Were the situation any different, I would spare you, but I must be sure that what you tell me is the truth.”
With one hand, the woman brought the staff’s head down into the closest thorn bush. There was a flash and the branches were blasted from the small shrub, sending branches and thorns flying everywhere. The woman took a step further and raised her staff over Jaheira.
“I will kill you with one strike,” she promised. “It will be painless. It is the least I can do for you.”
Jaheira’s heart pounded. No. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this! Khalid!
The staff descended.
“Halt!”
The staff stopped just a hair short.
The shou woman turned. A man in plate armor stood no more than twenty yards. He wore a great steel helm with dragon wings on the side. In one hand he held a kite shield and in the other a gleaming sword. He stared daggers at the shou woman.
“Though women you both are,” the man proclaimed. “I cannot stand by and allow a coward to strike down someone who is defenseless.”
The shou woman quickly recovered. “Do not interfere. I do what I do for love.”
“Love? Nay, not love.” The man said. He began to approach. “The darkness that I see within you is not from love, but pride and jealousy. I can feel the prickling in my fingers and the pain behind my eyes.”
The shou woman’s calm face suddenly shifted to one of rage. “What would you know? Pompous bastard! Begone!”
The warrior’s face was grim. “And so you reveal your true feelings. The darkness within you spreads like a weed, choking out the flower of the soul.”
“Enough!” the shou woman pointed her staff and spat out a prayer. A pale yellow light leapt from the tip of her staff. The warrior jerked in surprise, but could not hope to evade the beam. He stumbled as the yellow ray set his body aglow with pale yellow light. The warrior’s face twisted and he bared his teeth as he fought the spell. The light spread quickly, but then slowed, stopped, and vanished.
The shou woman gasped. “What? How is this possible?”
“Your spell is as thin as the lie of your motivation in love,” the warrior told her.
The shou woman hissed and spat out another prayer, though instead a blue light radiated from her. She spat out a second prayer and a golden aura engulfed her and the blue light. “
The warrior stood tall and proud, unbothered by the shou woman’s show of magic. “Know woman, that I am Squire Ajantis Ilvastarr, Junior Inquisitor of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart.”
“Your title means nothing to me!” the shou woman raced at the squire. The squire held up his sword and spoke, “Helm, strip this witch of her dark powers!”
A bright brilliant lime green light leapt from the tip of the blade and struck the shou woman. The golden aura winked out, followed by the blue glow. The shou woman did show any sign of slowing; she swung at the warrior. The squire raised his kite shield to block the blow. There was a flash and the shield exploded. Splints rained on both of them. The squire stumbled backwards, surprised.
“Sorcery!” he cried.
“Victory!” the shou woman screeched. She swung for his head.
“Helm save me!” the warrior shouted.
A bright light erupted from the squire’s helmet. The iron helm vanished and was replaced with one of silver, covered in diamonds, rubies, and beautiful opals. The shou woman stumbled, startled and stumbling. She screamed in rage.
“Bastard! My eyes!”
The squire delivered a hard blow to the woman’s torso. The priestess screamed and collapsed to the ground. The junior inquisitor drove a fist into her face, knocking her out cold and dropping her to the ground. The squire looked down upon her, pitiless. Jaheira waited for him deliver the final blow, but he instead sheathed his sword and walked to Jaheira. He raised a gauntlet and Jaheira saw that each gauntlet bore an elegant eye of blue and gold.
“Helm, break the hold this witch has over this woman.” he spoke.
Another flash of blue light and Jaheira suddenly her muscles relaxed, freed from the paralyzing spell. Jaheira felt her legs give out, but a strong arm caught her and steadied her. “Milady,” he told her, “May I be of assistance?”
Jaheira looked at the young man.
“Yes,” she told him. “My husband and our friends might be in serious danger. We must go to them.”
“Lead the way.”
*************
Abdel paced in the captain’s tent. His mind replayed what the scholar had told them; the priests were dead. The two priests had been brutally murdered; their heads had been caved in with the hilt of a sword, their bodies mutilated, and their holy symbols destroyed. More gruesome, the killer had cut away their tongues and had seemingly kept them. The scholar had apparently tried to keep the news from spreading throughout the camp, but Abdel had a feeling that everyone already knew--at least the soldiers did. The looks they had exchanged when they’d seen Khalid had suggested as such.
“We have to do something,” Abdel said.
“What else can we do?” Imoen said. “The priests are dead Abdel.”
“Get a message to Beregost, like we had planned to,” Abdel said.
“No one is going out in this storm,” Imoen said glumly.
“If you aren’t going to think of something useful to say, than don’t speak!” Abdel snapped. Abdel regretted his words. Imoen dropped her head into her hands and didn’t say anything else. Abdel thought he could see her shoulders shaking.
Abdel sighed, but he was too angry with her to apologize. I have to save him. He told himself. I have to save him...or all of this will have been for nothing.
The door flap opened and Captain Gallor walked in. Worry lines had set themselves deep in his otherwise smooth face. He looked to Abdel, then to Imoen and Khalid. He looked back to Abdel, “I have spoken with my men. I fear we have no means of healing apart from what our hands can accomplish.”
Abdel’s heart fell. “Not even a potion?”
“No. None.” Captain Gallor said.
Abdel made a decision. “Then I’ll go to Beregost. There will be priests there who can help him! If you lend me a horse, I’ll get there on my own.”
“You don’t know how to ride Abdel.” Imoen said, her voice flat. She gave Abdel a dull, defeated look. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Abdel ignored her. “Captain, I swear I will return with the horse and a priest. Trust me.”
The captain took a deep breath. “Nothing would please me more Abdel, but I cannot risk losing anymore horses...six of my nine are dead.”
“Six?!” Abdel gasped. “How?”
Gallor’s face grew dark. “The saboteurs had targeted our horses first. I had thought it merely a tactic to remove communication with Beregost...but now I fear a darker intent behind it.”
“Captain, I need a horse.” Abdel said.
“I understand how you feel Abdel,” Captain Gallor said. “But I cannot do that.”
“Then I will go on foot!” Abdel proclaimed. He shot a look at Imoen, “Alone, if need be.”
Gallor stopped Abdel with an arm on his shoulder. “Abdel! Please! Listen to me! I cannot lend you a horse, but I have not given up hope! I will send Franklin and Jacob in your stead. They are fast riders and know the land well. They will fetch the priests we need. I swear it!”
“What? Jacob and Franklin?” Abdel said, shocked. “But captain, he is my friend. At least let me take a third horse or go in place of one of them!”
The captain tightened his hold on Abdel. “I understand how you feel Abdel, but you must trust us. You must trust me.”
Abdel felt himself flush. His eyes found the floor.
“Stay here by Khalid’s side,” the captain said. “He needs you here. My men will make a hard ride to Beregost. It may take a day or so, even with horses for them to return. Please. You would not forgive yourself if he passed on while you were away.”
Abdel wanted to go. He couldn’t stand around staring at the dying man. The guilt ate away at him. Maybe he’s right though, Abdel thought. I barely know these people. Leaving him and Imoen here...is this just my ego talking?
The captain gave him a gentle shake. “Sometimes the hardest fight is the one we must fight in the silence before the storm.”
Abdel looked up and saw the truth in the captain’s eyes. He relaxed a bit. “Thank you captain...please, if there is any way I can help...tell me.”
The captain nodded knowingly. “Now that you say so, I will be down two men with Franklin and Jacob away. We number only a dozen, with half on guard and half off at any given time. If you wish, I would have you take the place of one of them. I sense a warrior in you Abdel, I would welcome you.”
“I want to help too!” Imoen protested.
The captain frowned. “You are a spirited young lady,” he told her, “But this is men’s work. It is gruesome and demanding. Would you not rather stay here and watch over your friend?”
Imoen shook her head. “I can’t just sit here either. I would go mad. And...and I don’t want to be a burden. I want to help too.”
The captain smiled. He seemed thoughtful. “Very well. I will see what can be done. I expect that Nib might give me a fight on this...but you are both from Candlekeep. Perhaps that might intrigue him. My men had little love for him, perhaps I should assign you to him.”
“That would be fine,” Abdel said, happy to be able to do anything.
Jacob and Franklin were led out by the captain an hour later. “I will see them past the north end of the plateau,” he had explained to Abdel. “Those caves hold dangerous things, I know. I have assigned you two to Mister Nib. Go to him and see to it that he remains safe. He tells me that another day or so and we will have uncovered the inner sanctum of the temple.”
Abdel and Imoen were taken by another mercenary to the plateau. Abdel looked up in awe at the plateau as they approached. Some ancient culture had built a massive temple into the very plateau itself. A great statue had been carved into the plateau’s stone; that of a great-broad shouldered man with a full head of hair and a long flowing beard that ran to his belt. He wore ancient armor over his torso and stood with one side extended. His right hand grasped a rod as tall as he, made out of pure iron. Abdel marveled at the skill and determination it must have taken to craft such a giant staff. The staff was ornate, but Abdel could not make out any details.
Across the entire surface of the plateau, images portrayed stories. Abdel had no time to examine even a tenth of them, but he saw many images of the statue figure raising a staff to a tidal wave or a volcanic eruption or an earthquake. Abdel could not tell if the figure was savior or destroyer. Soon they were at the entrance of the temple.
The temple may have once had great doors, but if they had, they had long ago vanished. Instead only two stone pillars held up the natural rock cavern into the plateau. Inside they found the first chamber. The chamber itself was not adorned, save for the wall, which was covered ground to ceiling with faces; some grinned, others grimaced, others seemed to scream, others laughed, and so on. Every range of emotion seemed to be portrayed there. In the middle of the room was a great iron shaft. Abdel gasped when he realized that the shaft was in the same position as the statue’s staff outside.
Mister Nib awaited them in the chamber. “Ah, you have arrived at last. Welcome to my discovery! Yes, yes, that is the staff you saw outside. Brilliant isn’t it? To think that anyone could have constructed such a thing ages ago.”
Abdel looked up and was taken by surprise; several wide holes stared down from the ceiling. “Are those…”
“Murder holes, yes.” Mister Nib said.
“Murder holes?” Imoen asked.
“Candlekeep has them,” Abdel explained, “They’re used in gatehouses so that the defenders can attack from a higher floor than the invaders. It turns the entire room into a death trap.”
“What are they doing here? I thought this was a temple.” Imoen said.
Mister Nib smiled. “Many temples were both many ages ago. Many still are.”
“Then there is a second floor?” Abdel asked.
The scholar chuckled. “There are many floors young man.”
“How do we reach it?” Abdel asked.
“Follow me,” Mister Nib said. He held up his lantern and led them around the iron shaft. Abdel gasped. On the other side of the iron shaft was an iron door! The door had been opened, but Abdel could see on the inside of the door many bolts and mechanisms to secure the door from invaders.
“You see?” Mister Nib said. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
Abdel nodded. “It’s beautiful!”
“What is?” Imoen asked.
Mister Nib led them into the shaft; within lay an iron spiral staircase that led to the second floor. “This.” he told Imoen. “Is the only way to the higher floors. To reach the second floor the invaders would have had to of braved the first room and its murder holes and...if you look above us, you can see more murder holes. And if you were to follow me...yes, that’s right, right this way...you can see a second iron door!”
On the second floor, Abdel saw the small room was not so decorated, save for a ring of faces around the top of the ceiling that portrayed rage. In the ceiling were more murder holes. “There is another room for defense?” Abdel asked.
“Of course,” Mister Nib said. He led them back to the spiral stairs. “If you look closely, you can see that there used to be a door here. I suspect it was made of wood, as it did not survive the ages. It looks as though they might have been able to bar it, but I suspect the door here was a mere delaying tactic. Notice though, the door would be offset from either this level or anyone coming up the stairs. No battering ram could make it up here.”
“Good thinking,” Abdel said.
The scholar led them up to the third iron door, “This is what I have deemed to be the second gatehouse,” he told them.
The second gatehouse was more refined; images of storms and ocean waves covered the walls. A hallway led into darkness. “This was the barracks for the temple’s defenders.” Mister Nib explained. “It was where I personally discovered Captain Gallor’s new sword.”
“He showed us,” Abdel said. “It was a beautiful blade!”
“Yes, it was a fine gift for a good man,” Mister Nib said. “Sadly, I found little else of value here. Up on the fourth floor however…”
They ascended the spiral staircase to the fourth floor, whose walls were decorated in old sailing ships being destroyed by a great storm. Atop the wall was an old dull mural of the mighty bearded man. He held aloft the iron staff and by the looks of it, had seemed to call forth the storm. That room too, held a long corridor that plunged into darkness, though Abdel could tell the hallway was decorated with yet more murals and carvings.
“These I believe were the priest quarters.” Mister Nib said. He pointed to the shaft, “As you can see, there are no murder holes in the floor, but the iron shaft itself is full of holes. I believe that should the defenders have been forced to this floor, they would use spears and arrows to attack the defenders within the shaft. And as you can see, there is an iron door here. It is one of the last lines of defense before we get to the temple proper.”
The three ascended the spiral staircase once more. They emerged out into the high winds of the storm. Above them towered the great god-like figure that the builders had worshiped. Mister Nib struggled against the wind and the rain, shouting and pointing toward a doorway that had been carved into the rock itself.
The three hurried into the shelter of the temple. The naturally carved rock gave way to a pair of iron doors. The doors had been pulled upon and were secured to the wall by chains and pions. They entered into the main chamber, illuminated by many lanterns on the pillars put there by the workers. Three massive pillars on either side of the room helped support the stone vaulted ceiling. Ancient murals had been painted upon the walls. The mural depicted scenes of storms, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, great fires, and many other calamities.
Two wooden double doors were open to the second chamber. Ahead, Abdel heard the sound of men grunting and cursing. Abdel stepped through and found the second chamber to be smaller, but more grand. Wood, silver, and iron were represented all equally in the vaulted ceiling and the pillars. In the center of the room stood three posts; one iron, one wood, and one silver. They stood over a small bowl in the floor, to which many grooves in the ground connected to from the posts. The only exception to the balance of the three materials were the large silver doors to which the workers now banked on with hammers and picks, trying to break open a lock as large as Abdel’s chest, but with no clear opening mechanism.
“What is this place?” Abdel asked.
“It’s not important,” Mister Nibs said. He went to examine the door and the workers. “By the Binder, come look! We’re almost through!”
Abdel breathed a sigh of relief and tried to twist the water out of his cloak. The water fell into the grooves of the floor and ran along their lines. Curious, Abdel watched as they collected in the bowl. He frowned and allowed his gaze to drift to the three poles. Dark spots covered the three poles, with long dark lines that reached down into the floor. Abdel looked to the murals on the wall and saw the images of people tied to the polls, with priests who held daggers. One image depicted the victim’s necks being cut open. The sacrifices pleased the great god they worshiped and the images showed the storms subsiding.
“Lathander…” Abdel gasped.
“Abdel, this place gives me the creeps.” Imoen said.
Abdel thought of telling her, but changed his mind. He didn’t want Imoen to think of what happened in the very chamber they stood in. “Don’t think about it,” he told her.
“Something is very, very wrong here.” Imoen persisted. She sniffed the air. “It smells...no, it feels like something wrong happened here. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t like this feeling.”
Abdel felt it too. He tried not to look at the walls, but felt as if the figures in the murals were staring at him and he couldn't help it. His heart began to race. He looked at the poles and could almost imagine himself being bound to them and the priest stepping forward in his ceremonial garb, with his dagger and…
Abdel shook the image from his head. He grabbed Imoen by the arm and led her away, keeping himself between her and the poles as he did. “C’mon, we’re almost through. The sooner we’re out of this pit, the better.”
At the moment, three of the workers hammered on the door. Behind them stood the nine other workers, who leaned against the room’s pillars or sat on the floor, taking a break. Abdel stopped by one of them and asked. “That is a big door. How long have you fellas been at it?”
The guard looked up at him, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
“Travelers” Abdel told him, “But Mister Nib has asked us to fill in for two of the captain’s men while he sends them on an errand to Beregost for our wounded friend.”
“Ah,” the man said. He looked at the door and shook his head. “We’ve been at that door for three days now. We switch off hitting the damn thing every twenty minutes...but the damn thing is impenetrable. We can’t even get a proper battering ram up through here. The small ones we kept taking up cracked like dry wood.”
“This is a gruesome temple,” Abdel noted.
“Aye lad it is,” the worker said. “And I expect if we knew whose temple we were breaking into, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Why do you say that?” Imoen asked.
“Because Mister Nib knows, but he isn’t telling.” the worker said. “I heard him talking to the boss and that mercenary captain; he’s all excited about this place until they ask whose temple it is...then he suddenly changes the subject or claims not to know or that the god is long gone. Rubbish if you ask me.”
The worker lowered his voice. “They say that even a dead god can hear things. Such as their names. This egg head hasn’t once named the god or gone by one of his titles. In fact, he doesn’t talk about him at all. It’s like he’s afraid that big guy will hear him.”
Abdel found the medallion beneath his gambeson. The holy symbol did not bring him the comfort he had hoped. Instead, it made the very idea of an angry, dead god very real to him. Keldath Ormlyr had told him that the dawn’s destruction of Bassilus’s animated corpses had been a miracle of Lathander. If a benevolent god could do that...what would a dark god who demanded the blood of men do to temple raiders?
“Maybe we should see if Captain Gallor has returned,” Abdel said to Imoen.
Suddenly, a loud bang drew their attention. A shout of joy from Mister Nibs filled the room. “I did it! I did it!” he shouted. “It’s open! It’s open!”
“He did it?” the worker next to Abdel scoffed. He gave Abdel a sour look. “You’d think it was him who was here banging on this door with nothing more than a hammer or a pick axe.”
“He’s a git,” Abdel said venomously.
“Here to men!” shouted the task master. “Let’s get this damned thing open so we can all go home!”
The worker next to Abdel grumbled and got to his feet. “The bonus better be worth it.”
Together the several men pulled at the heavy silver doors. The doors squealed as they were drawn apart; the large round mechanism that had kept them secure was badly dented and inside Abdel could see broken gears.
“Lanterns men! Lanterns!” Mister Nib called. “Abdel! Imoen! Come here! You’ll appreciate this!”
Abdel did not think so, but he and Imoen grabbed up one of the spare lanterns and followed the excitable Mister Nib into the final chamber. Abdel gasped in surprise when cold water poured down on him. He looked up and saw that there was no ceiling in the final chamber, only a great hole that seemed to extend all the way to the surface of the plateau’s top.
“Where’s the floor?” Imoen asked.
Abdel looked down. The chamber was more a narrow bridge that ended at a small altar, upon which sat a carving similar to the one that stood outside the temple. All around them was a great chasm.
“The Bridge of Kozah!” Mister Nib squealed. “Come! Come! Oh! Careful, it is slippery! Hold onto the rail or else you might fall and split your skull!”
Abdel followed the excited scholar. Paranoid about slipping, Abdel stared at the floor as they walked. He sucked in air; a mural had been painted upon the floor of the bridge. Images of bodies with slit throats were depicted being taken to a great hole in the world and tossed down.
“This is where they took the sacrifices and threw them into the abyss!” Mister Nib told them excitedly, forgetting himself.
“Where is the ceiling?” Imoen yelled.
“There is no ceiling!” Mister Nib told them. “The followers of Kozah believed in embracing the storm! This whole temple was designed to withstand the greatest of Kozah’s storms, but in this inner sanctum, his most faithful would expose themselves to the storm again!”
“What kind of god was this?” Imoen asked.
“A dark god,” Abdel answered. His hand went to his hammer and he loosed it.
“And there it is!” Mister Nib cried as he reached the altar. “The Idol of Kozah!”
The scholar yanked the stone idol from its place upon the altar. There was a bright flash of light from far above. Thundered rolled so heavily that Abdel thought that perhaps it had come from below. Mister Nib cradled the small idol and examined its every detail. “This will be the greatest discovery of my lifetime!”
From behind them, Abdel heard howls of anguish.
@The Original Sixth Hmm, this is getting interesting. You seem to be changing things up pretty good. It does worry me that you aren't going to include some of the gold moments in the original BG, such as one that had me laughing due to how out of the field it was. Though, I am sure you will create your own...and if you include them they will be even more gold.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
The dig sure is much more fleshed out here.
Chapter Thirteen
Later that morning Jaheira and Ajantis had found her company’s camp. She had been terrified when she had first seen the cabin, fearing that it had sunk while they were inside, but an investigation showed that it had sunk before and the company had camped outside, using it as a shield against the wind and rain. Jaheira suspected that Abdel was behind that and she found she was proud of him for such resourcefulness.
She had thought that they might have made north for the fishermen, but Ajantis had suspected otherwise. “My heart tells me they did not go that way,” he told her.
“Where else would they go?” Jaheira had asked.
Ajantis pointed to the west.
“To sea? You must be joking!” Jaheira had said.
“I am not.” he told her. “I sense a great and powerful evil. It was what had drawn me into the forest when I came across you and that wicked witch. It is an evil that I fear, will sweep up all who wander near. That is what my heart tells me.”
Jaheira felt it in her heart too. “Then let us check the ground for tracks, so that we may be certain.” she had told him.
“We should go without delay,” he told her. “We waste time searching for what I know to be true.”
“No, we check.” Jaheira said.
“The storm will have destroyed any print we might find,” Ajantis protested.
“Perhaps, but I am a skilled tracker. The ways of the wild come naturally to me squire.” Jaheira told him, though she knew he was likely to be correct, but she could not let herself go chasing after some foreboding evil without any evidence. Fortunately, they had traveled only a few minutes west when she found her evidence in several heavy prints in the mud.
“By the Balance, you were right!” Jaheira said. “Several people came this way...and...this is strange. I recognize one as Imoen. Her step is lighter than the others...another I might make for Abdel...but there are at least two more, perhaps three. They are foreign to me.”
“Perhaps they took your companions as prisoners?” Ajantis offered.
Jaheira pondered it and slowly shook her head. “No, these prints are heavy. Heavier than they should be. No, they bore someone. And my husband’s prints are not here. Four carried him, perhaps on a stretcher. I had seen signs of torn canvas back at the camp. I had assumed they were from the storm.”
“Then they were not taken unwillingly?” Ajantis asked.
“I cannot be sure...but I think not.” Jaheira said.
“Then there is hope still.” Ajantis said. “Come, we must not waste anymore time staring at tracks. If we hurry, we can leave the woods and ride upon Resolute and with Helm’s guidance, be there before any evil befalls them!”
Jaheira nodded. “Then let us go.”
**********
“What was that?” Imoen asked.
“I don’t know.” Abdel said. He slipped Ashideena from her place on his belt. Imoen drew her sword.
Through the door came the workers, carrying their hammers, shovels, and pickaxes. Abdel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them. He had feared that some curse or evil had descended upon them. “It’s okay,” he told Imoen. He waved to the worker they had spoken to in the previous chamber. “We’re coming back now!” he told them.
“Abdel…” Imoen squeaked.
“It’s fine Imoen,” Abdel told her, “If something had happened, the workers wouldn’t be milling about like that. Hey! Get back inside, there’s no roof out here!”
The workers ignored him and continued out onto the bridge. Abdel felt a shadow cross over his heart.
“Abdel!” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned to her. She was pale as snow. She turned to him, her eyes wide in fear. “Abdel, there’s something wrong with them! Look at their faces!”
Abdel turned back to the workers, who had crossed half the span of the bridge. Imoen was right; the faces of each of the workers had been twisted into one of murderous rage. Abdel took a step back in surprise. He had been so relieved to see the workers alive he hadn’t noticed. Beneath the fear, anger boiled.
“Mister Nib! What’s going on? What haven’t you told us?” Abdel demanded.
“What?” Mister Nib looked up from his prize to see the workers. “What is this? Mutiny? I paid you all good wages!”
“IthNal cOR dan osa KOZAH!” the workers chanted in unison. “Rrrackne dall’a osa KOZAH!”
“What did they say?” Imoen asked.
“I don’t know,” Abdel said. “I didn’t understand a word of it.”
“No...no it can’t be!”
Abdel turned to Mister Nibs, “What? What did they say?”
But the scholar shook his head and clutched at the idol he had taken. “No! No, it wasn’t supposed to end this way! It wasn’t! It wasn’t!”
“Abdel!” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned and saw the taskmaster, ahead of the workers and a larger man than the rest, charge towards them. Abdel cursed and rushed forward to meet the man. The man swung down with a massive sledgehammer. Abdel sidestepped it. The massive hammer smashed a hole as large as Abdel’s head into the bridge. Abdel slammed Ashideena into the man’s temple. The taskmaster’s skull cracked and the electric discharge from the warhammer sent him over the side of the bridge.
Behind the taskmaster came two more workers; one bore a pickaxe, the other a shovel. The pickaxe came at Abdel’s head. He ducked, but took the blunt stab of the shovel to the shoulder. Abdel was sent sprawling backwards and grabbed onto the side of the bridge to keep from falling. The man with the pickaxe laughed and lept forward to finish Abdel.
A sword flashed and intercepted the pickaxe. Steel bit into wood and the pickaxe failed to reach Abdel by an inch. Imoen grunted as she held back the stronger man’s pickaxe. Abdel scrambled back and Imoen broke the bind, allowing the pickaxe to smash into the bridge. The other worker swung his shovel at Imoen’s head. Abdel called out a warning, but Imoen had already anticipated the swing and ducked. Something flashed from her hand and caught in the worker’s throat.
The worker gurgled and collapsed.
The worker with the pickaxe had recovered, but Abdel was faster. With speed that stunned his opponent, Abdel grabbed hold of the pickaxe’s shaft and slammed Ashideena’s head into the man’s hip. Bone shattered and the worker’s body danced as the electricity coursed through it. With a yank, Abdel sent the man screaming over the side.
Two more workers rushed to replace them. Another object flashed from Imoen’s hand and that time Abdel was able to see what she had thrown; a knife. Abdel had no time to wonder where she had gotten throwing knives. He turned and met his attacker. He too carried a sledgehammer. He lifted the warhammer for a swing, but Abdel leapt forward and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest and knocked him off balance.
The worker shrieked as the warhammer dragged him backwards and onto the ground. Abdel slammed a boot down on the man’s stomach and drove Ashideena into the man’s skull. To his side Imoen’s knife had penetrated the other worker’s shoulder, making it difficult to wield his pickaxe. Imoen used simple, but well executed side steps and binds to keep the worker at bay. When he grew frustrated and made a horizontal swing, Imoen avoided and while he struggled to recover, she rushed forward and opened his stomach. The worker screamed and collapsed to recover his insides and Imoen mercifully beheaded him.
Abdel leapt to his feet, ready for the next attacker, but found that they had slaughtered all the mad workers. Abdel leaned on the side of the bridge to recover. Imoen stared at the carnage. “Abdel...what did we do?” she asked.
“What we had to.” Abdel said.
“Fantastic job!” Mister Nib cried. “Just fantastic! Praise Helm! So it was the damn workers all along! Well, I will see to it that their company is docked for…”
Lightning flashed overhead. Abdel looked up in time to see one bolt lance straight down from the heavens towards them. Before Abdel could scream or think to dive for safety, the bolt struck the altar, where Mister Nib stood. The altar exploded, throwing the scholar bodily hand over feet across the bridge.
From the flaming ruins of the altar stood a wide-shouldered eight-foot giant of a man. Immediately Abdel was drawn to the man’s face, covered by a black beard and many long scars. And his eyes. The man had none, but instead flames burned from where his eyes should be and caste his entire flame aglow. He wore a dark red tunic that went from shoulder to knee tied in the middle by a thick belt. Gold lettering of which Abdel did not recognized decorated the hems of the tunic. Over the tunic he wore a bronze breastplate. He wore matching bracers and anklets on his arms and legs. He stood barefoot.
In each hand the great man bore something. In his left hand was a great round shield of wood, upon which a white stylized bolt had been painted between two horizontal white bars, upon a field of crimson. In the other, the man bore a large gladius of literal flame, of thirty or more inches in length.
“IthNal cOr dan osa KOZAH! Rrrackne dall’a osa KOZAH!” the figure boomed in a voice that sounded like the rumbling of an earthquake.
“Wh-what is that?” Imoen cried. “What did it say?”
“I don’t know!” Abdel cried. “Mister Nib! What is that thing? What does it want with us?”
There was no answer. Abdel feared that perhaps the scholar had passed out from shock or might have lost his sense. He turned to grab the man and found he was gone. In the second chamber, Abdel saw a figure fleeing as quickly as his legs could carry him.
*********
It had taken some time for Jaheira to follow the trail through the wet woods, but it led them to the open plain facing west. From there, they saw the plateau and the dark storm clouds. The storm had already swept over much of the plains and rushed toward them.
“We’ll lose them here, I fear.” Jaheira told Ajantis. “This storm will make it impossible for us to follow any tracks.”
“Fear not,” Ajantis said. “For as I said, I know where they have gone.”
Jaheira looked up at the plateau. Indeed the paladin had said it many times, though Jaheira had her doubts. Was there really evil contained within that far isolated plateau? Jaheira did not think so, but she had no better leads.
“We will ride upon Resolute,” he told her, “We will bear north around the plateau to avoid the worst of the winds and come around south to its western side. Any sane man would have done the same, I expect.”
Jaheira nodded. “It would seem so, but if they were in a hurry, they might go around the south end. My husband was in poor shape. Abdel would have wanted to reach their camp as soon as possible.”
“Perhaps,” Ajantis said, “But he may have feared for your husband’s life and instead insisted on going around the north side, in hopes to shield him from the worst of the storm. In any case, it will allow us the safest route and both roads lead to the same place.”
Jaheira accepted that. Without further delay, the two mounted Resolute and the heavy horse took off at a steady canter. The pace felt slow at first and Jaheira thought to ask the squire to set the horse at his quickest pace, but she did not. A full gallop would likely wear the horse out and might prove dangerous with the approaching storm. As they began to cross the field, the distance seemed to shrink.
The storm hit with such ferocity that Jaheira at first thought that Ajantis would slow the horse, but instead he pushed the horse into a light gallop. Resolute’s speed astonished Jaheira and they ate up the distance quickly. Soon, they two had rounded the northernmost part of the plateau. There Ajantis had to slow the beast, as the land became rocky and dangerous. They fell down to a mild trot.
Even behind the plateau, the wind whipped at them and the rain fell hard. Jaheira could not imagine what the southern side would be like. But the further they traveled, the more Jaheira was certain that Abdel and the others had not come that way. When they had taken a rest, she and Ajantis searched for any sign of the company.
“It seems you were right!” Ajantis told her, “I see no signs that they came this way!”
Jaheira nodded, but did not want to discuss it. She could not bear the thought of Khalid in the terrible storm. “Let us hope that they are already safe and sound in these stranger’s camp.”
“I pray to Helm that he is,” Ajantis said, though a tone in his voice told her that he was not saying all that he knew or guessed at. The thought worried her. Now and again, she would catch the squire staring up at the plateau itself.
After a break, the two rode Resolute around the north of the plateau, where they came upon an old cobbled road overgrown with weeds and grass, barely noticeable in the storm. Jaheira might not have noticed it, had it not been for the figures upon the road. Two of them there were; dueling fiercely with their swords.
“Who is that?” Jaheira asked.
“Evil.” Ajantis replied and spurred Resolute into a swift gallop.
They were not quick enough to interrupt the duel; the larger man had fiercely disarmed his opponent and drove his sword through his opponent’s chest, killing him. Then, in an act of barbarism, began to hack at the dying man’s body, laughing gleefully. Ajantis pulled Resolute up short and leapt down from his steed.
“Hold!” he called to the killer. “I say hold villain!”
The madman stopped his butchery, but did not turn to them. He was a large imposing man, dressed in gambeson and mail. In one hand he held a bloodied sword. Jaheira slowly slipped from the horse as well and approached. She noted that Ajantis had drawn his sword and she drew her scimitar and loosed her mistletoe.
“What is going on?” she asked Ajantis in a low voice. “Is this the evil you spoke of?”
“I fear not...though it is related.” the squire said quietly back to her. Then to the man. “You there, name yourself! I command you, by order of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart!”
The man’s shoulders shook and it took a moment before Jaheira realized the man to be laughing. Ajantis was taken aback. After a time, the madman stopped. “I? I am...I was Captain George Gallor.”
“Captain?” Ajantis called back. “Captain of what and to whom?”
“The Iron Helm Mercenary Band.” the man said to them. He still had not turned to face them. Instead he simply stared up into the storm.
“The Iron Helm?” Jaheira echoed.
Ajantis looked to her. “You have heard of them?”
“They are a very reputable group,” Jaheira said. “Though they sometimes undertake questionable employers and missions.”
The captain laughed. “Indeed we are! My men are the best! Were the best! That will all change. That damn fool! Daring to challenge the Stormlord! He will be punished! Already the Doomsayer approaches!”
“Stormlord?” Jaheira wondered.
“He speaks of Talos,” Ajantis said. “He is the god that goes by such a title.”
“Talos! Ha!” The captain laughed, “An old man! A doddering fool! A weak old god that has strayed from himself! Who accepts the lot handed to him by weaklings! I speak of Kozah! KOZAH! KOZAH!”
The man turned to face them. Jaheira gasped and nearly dropped her scimitar. The man had what had once been the face of a kind, good man, twisted by rage and insanity. In one hand he held the old sword. Jaheira recognized it as a strange cross between a gladius and an arming sword. A nasty grin crawled up his face.
“Kozah returns! And you will feed him! KOZAH! KOZAH!”
The captain charged.
Ajantis was quicker. Fearing nothing, he met the captain’s swing with his own sword. The captain roared and launched a ferocious attack upon the squire. Ajantis deflected the most direct lines of attack, but otherwise allowed his armor to shield him from the madman’s blows. The ancient sword struck, but did little more than leave a small dent. Ajantis returned the favor with various light blows against the captain, landing several cuts on his arm and chest.
“Finish him!” Jaheira demanded. “What are you waiting for?”
Ajantis did not respond, but instead retained his strategy. After a moment, Jaheira realized his strategy; the squire was wearing the captain out. His blows drew blood and damaged the captain’s ability to fight. The squire intended to defeat the man and take him captive. Jaheira scowled and slowly began to circle around to flank the captain. She had no time for such niceties. The man was clearly mad. He had to be dealt with.
Meanwhile, Ajantis began to lose ground. His strategy to weaken his opponent had seemingly failed. The captain seemed to draw upon a well of untapped strength with no limits. He hammered at Ajantis long after a healthy man like Abdel or Ajantis himself would have otherwise collapsed and the blows that Ajantis had dealt had not seemed to damage his ability to fight. Soon, Ajantis himself had grown tired and his blows were less effective and slower.
“Enough!” Jaheira came in from behind and slashed at the exposed left leg of the captain. The scimitar slashed through the thick boot and Jaheira felt it slice the hamstring of his leg. The captain roared, stumbled, but somehow remained standing. Then with astonishing speed, he spun and slashed his sword at Jaheira.
Only Jaheira’s elven reflexes saved her. She leapt back and narrowly avoided having her head taken clean from her shoulders. The captain roared and followed up the attack, but Jaheira managed to survive by deflecting the second swing and backstepping from the third. The captain pursued her, but the hamstringing proved to have some effect; he was slower and his balance was worse than it had been before.
“Captain Gallor!” Ajantis called. “Your battle is with me! Come!”
The captain ignored him and pursued Jaheira. Jaheira found she had no chance to match the captain’s swordplay, but her footwork proved superior. With each step, his balance grew more unsteady. Then, by chance, his undamage foot slipped and he only barely managed to maintain his footing by putting undue pressure on his wounded leg. The captain snarled through the pain, unwilling to fall. But he had exposed himself.
Jaheira moved in that brief moment of weakness and slashed nearly severing the man’s arm at the wrist. To her surprise, the sword did not come free, but neither could the captain wield it against her, tried as he might to retaliate. She slapped the sword away with almost contemptuous ease. The captain only grew more angry and launched himself at her, intent on tackling her.
Jaheira sidestepped and allowed the captain to tumble to the ground. She took a two-handed grip with her sword and drove her scimitar down into the spine of the captain’s neck. The blade split bone, erupted from his throat, and pierced the ground. The captain gave out a hoarse cry and thrashed, at Jaheira, but she kept him pinned. Jaheira had expected the struggle to continue for some while, but to her surprise, it was short-lived.
The sword fell away from the captain’s hand. Slowly, the captain turned his head to look up at Jaheira. She was astonished to see soft, pained eyes, red with grief. His eyes met hers and he gave her a nod. He said something, but she couldn’t catch it. Then coughed up blood and collapsed, the strength gone from him. Moments later, he was dead.
“I pity him,” she said. “For what madness took him.”
Ajantis stepped forward. “I thank you for the aid, but I had hoped to save him.”
Jaheira did not look the squire in the eyes. “There was no hope in saving him. He has mad. He would have killed you, had I not stepped in.”
“I would have risked it,” Ajantis said.
“I would not.” Jaheira said coldly. “For if you die, so shall my husband.”
“Before madness had taken him, he was as good a man as any I have met,” Ajantis said.
Jaheira stepped over the dead captain to recover his sword. “That may have been, but--”
“No! Don’t touch that!” Ajantis grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
“Release me!” Jaheira pulled her hand away.
“That sword is evil Jaheira!” Ajantis said. “It is what drove Captain Gallor mad! I can see the evil that radiates from it!”
Jaheira looked down at the sword in surprise. Could it be? She wondered. I had heard of such weapons that drive their wielders mad, but I have never seen one. She bent over and examined the sword with her eyes. Now that she saw it up close, she could make out etchings in the surface of the blood-stained blade; images of destruction and chaos. On the hilt she noted several ancient words that she did not understand, but all the same made her shiver with terror.
“Then what are we to do with it?” she asked Ajantis. She stood up. “We cannot simply leave it here to be discovered again.”
“Agreed,” Ajantis said. “Wait here, but do not touch.”
“You need not tell me twice.” Jaheira growled.
Ajantis nodded and went to one of the saddlebags on Resolute. He returned with a thick off-white cloth that had been tightly wound. Carefully the squire unwound it and used it to wrap the hilt of the sword then the blade. Then he carefully lifted it and carried it back to replace it in one of his saddlebags.
“This cloth was blessed by priests of my order,” he explained to Jaheira as he secured the saddlebag. “The sword’s evil will be contained within until I can have it properly disposed of. To be safe, don’t...”
Jaheira had stopped listening. Her gaze had caught upon the storm overhead and it had drawn her attention to the plateau itself. Her stomach twisted and her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest. “We must go now,” she told Ajantis.
“What? What is amiss?” Ajantis asked.
Jaheira pointed to the clouds. “Look, look how they move.” she told him. “The center of the storm is not out at sea, but the plateau itself!”
Ajantis stared up at the storm in alarm. “Of course,” he said loudly. “It’s all coming together! Quick! Get on! We cannot spare another moment!”
Later that morning Jaheira and Ajantis had found her company’s camp. She had been terrified when she had first seen the cabin, fearing that it had sunk while they were inside, but an investigation showed that it had sunk before and the company had camped outside, using it as a shield against the wind and rain. Jaheira suspected that Abdel was behind that and she found she was proud of him for such resourcefulness.
She had thought that they might have made north for the fishermen, but Ajantis had suspected otherwise. “My heart tells me they did not go that way,” he told her.
“Where else would they go?” Jaheira had asked.
Ajantis pointed to the west.
“To sea? You must be joking!” Jaheira had said.
“I am not.” he told her. “I sense a great and powerful evil. It was what had drawn me into the forest when I came across you and that wicked witch. It is an evil that I fear, will sweep up all who wander near. That is what my heart tells me.”
Jaheira felt it in her heart too. “Then let us check the ground for tracks, so that we may be certain.” she had told him.
“We should go without delay,” he told her. “We waste time searching for what I know to be true.”
“No, we check.” Jaheira said.
“The storm will have destroyed any print we might find,” Ajantis protested.
“Perhaps, but I am a skilled tracker. The ways of the wild come naturally to me squire.” Jaheira told him, though she knew he was likely to be correct, but she could not let herself go chasing after some foreboding evil without any evidence. Fortunately, they had traveled only a few minutes west when she found her evidence in several heavy prints in the mud.
“By the Balance, you were right!” Jaheira said. “Several people came this way...and...this is strange. I recognize one as Imoen. Her step is lighter than the others...another I might make for Abdel...but there are at least two more, perhaps three. They are foreign to me.”
“Perhaps they took your companions as prisoners?” Ajantis offered.
Jaheira pondered it and slowly shook her head. “No, these prints are heavy. Heavier than they should be. No, they bore someone. And my husband’s prints are not here. Four carried him, perhaps on a stretcher. I had seen signs of torn canvas back at the camp. I had assumed they were from the storm.”
“Then they were not taken unwillingly?” Ajantis asked.
“I cannot be sure...but I think not.” Jaheira said.
“Then there is hope still.” Ajantis said. “Come, we must not waste anymore time staring at tracks. If we hurry, we can leave the woods and ride upon Resolute and with Helm’s guidance, be there before any evil befalls them!”
Jaheira nodded. “Then let us go.”
**********
“What was that?” Imoen asked.
“I don’t know.” Abdel said. He slipped Ashideena from her place on his belt. Imoen drew her sword.
Through the door came the workers, carrying their hammers, shovels, and pickaxes. Abdel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them. He had feared that some curse or evil had descended upon them. “It’s okay,” he told Imoen. He waved to the worker they had spoken to in the previous chamber. “We’re coming back now!” he told them.
“Abdel…” Imoen squeaked.
“It’s fine Imoen,” Abdel told her, “If something had happened, the workers wouldn’t be milling about like that. Hey! Get back inside, there’s no roof out here!”
The workers ignored him and continued out onto the bridge. Abdel felt a shadow cross over his heart.
“Abdel!” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned to her. She was pale as snow. She turned to him, her eyes wide in fear. “Abdel, there’s something wrong with them! Look at their faces!”
Abdel turned back to the workers, who had crossed half the span of the bridge. Imoen was right; the faces of each of the workers had been twisted into one of murderous rage. Abdel took a step back in surprise. He had been so relieved to see the workers alive he hadn’t noticed. Beneath the fear, anger boiled.
“Mister Nib! What’s going on? What haven’t you told us?” Abdel demanded.
“What?” Mister Nib looked up from his prize to see the workers. “What is this? Mutiny? I paid you all good wages!”
“IthNal cOR dan osa KOZAH!” the workers chanted in unison. “Rrrackne dall’a osa KOZAH!”
“What did they say?” Imoen asked.
“I don’t know,” Abdel said. “I didn’t understand a word of it.”
“No...no it can’t be!”
Abdel turned to Mister Nibs, “What? What did they say?”
But the scholar shook his head and clutched at the idol he had taken. “No! No, it wasn’t supposed to end this way! It wasn’t! It wasn’t!”
“Abdel!” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned and saw the taskmaster, ahead of the workers and a larger man than the rest, charge towards them. Abdel cursed and rushed forward to meet the man. The man swung down with a massive sledgehammer. Abdel sidestepped it. The massive hammer smashed a hole as large as Abdel’s head into the bridge. Abdel slammed Ashideena into the man’s temple. The taskmaster’s skull cracked and the electric discharge from the warhammer sent him over the side of the bridge.
Behind the taskmaster came two more workers; one bore a pickaxe, the other a shovel. The pickaxe came at Abdel’s head. He ducked, but took the blunt stab of the shovel to the shoulder. Abdel was sent sprawling backwards and grabbed onto the side of the bridge to keep from falling. The man with the pickaxe laughed and lept forward to finish Abdel.
A sword flashed and intercepted the pickaxe. Steel bit into wood and the pickaxe failed to reach Abdel by an inch. Imoen grunted as she held back the stronger man’s pickaxe. Abdel scrambled back and Imoen broke the bind, allowing the pickaxe to smash into the bridge. The other worker swung his shovel at Imoen’s head. Abdel called out a warning, but Imoen had already anticipated the swing and ducked. Something flashed from her hand and caught in the worker’s throat.
The worker gurgled and collapsed.
The worker with the pickaxe had recovered, but Abdel was faster. With speed that stunned his opponent, Abdel grabbed hold of the pickaxe’s shaft and slammed Ashideena’s head into the man’s hip. Bone shattered and the worker’s body danced as the electricity coursed through it. With a yank, Abdel sent the man screaming over the side.
Two more workers rushed to replace them. Another object flashed from Imoen’s hand and that time Abdel was able to see what she had thrown; a knife. Abdel had no time to wonder where she had gotten throwing knives. He turned and met his attacker. He too carried a sledgehammer. He lifted the warhammer for a swing, but Abdel leapt forward and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest and knocked him off balance.
The worker shrieked as the warhammer dragged him backwards and onto the ground. Abdel slammed a boot down on the man’s stomach and drove Ashideena into the man’s skull. To his side Imoen’s knife had penetrated the other worker’s shoulder, making it difficult to wield his pickaxe. Imoen used simple, but well executed side steps and binds to keep the worker at bay. When he grew frustrated and made a horizontal swing, Imoen avoided and while he struggled to recover, she rushed forward and opened his stomach. The worker screamed and collapsed to recover his insides and Imoen mercifully beheaded him.
Abdel leapt to his feet, ready for the next attacker, but found that they had slaughtered all the mad workers. Abdel leaned on the side of the bridge to recover. Imoen stared at the carnage. “Abdel...what did we do?” she asked.
“What we had to.” Abdel said.
“Fantastic job!” Mister Nib cried. “Just fantastic! Praise Helm! So it was the damn workers all along! Well, I will see to it that their company is docked for…”
Lightning flashed overhead. Abdel looked up in time to see one bolt lance straight down from the heavens towards them. Before Abdel could scream or think to dive for safety, the bolt struck the altar, where Mister Nib stood. The altar exploded, throwing the scholar bodily hand over feet across the bridge.
From the flaming ruins of the altar stood a wide-shouldered eight-foot giant of a man. Immediately Abdel was drawn to the man’s face, covered by a black beard and many long scars. And his eyes. The man had none, but instead flames burned from where his eyes should be and caste his entire flame aglow. He wore a dark red tunic that went from shoulder to knee tied in the middle by a thick belt. Gold lettering of which Abdel did not recognized decorated the hems of the tunic. Over the tunic he wore a bronze breastplate. He wore matching bracers and anklets on his arms and legs. He stood barefoot.
In each hand the great man bore something. In his left hand was a great round shield of wood, upon which a white stylized bolt had been painted between two horizontal white bars, upon a field of crimson. In the other, the man bore a large gladius of literal flame, of thirty or more inches in length.
“IthNal cOr dan osa KOZAH! Rrrackne dall’a osa KOZAH!” the figure boomed in a voice that sounded like the rumbling of an earthquake.
“Wh-what is that?” Imoen cried. “What did it say?”
“I don’t know!” Abdel cried. “Mister Nib! What is that thing? What does it want with us?”
There was no answer. Abdel feared that perhaps the scholar had passed out from shock or might have lost his sense. He turned to grab the man and found he was gone. In the second chamber, Abdel saw a figure fleeing as quickly as his legs could carry him.
*********
It had taken some time for Jaheira to follow the trail through the wet woods, but it led them to the open plain facing west. From there, they saw the plateau and the dark storm clouds. The storm had already swept over much of the plains and rushed toward them.
“We’ll lose them here, I fear.” Jaheira told Ajantis. “This storm will make it impossible for us to follow any tracks.”
“Fear not,” Ajantis said. “For as I said, I know where they have gone.”
Jaheira looked up at the plateau. Indeed the paladin had said it many times, though Jaheira had her doubts. Was there really evil contained within that far isolated plateau? Jaheira did not think so, but she had no better leads.
“We will ride upon Resolute,” he told her, “We will bear north around the plateau to avoid the worst of the winds and come around south to its western side. Any sane man would have done the same, I expect.”
Jaheira nodded. “It would seem so, but if they were in a hurry, they might go around the south end. My husband was in poor shape. Abdel would have wanted to reach their camp as soon as possible.”
“Perhaps,” Ajantis said, “But he may have feared for your husband’s life and instead insisted on going around the north side, in hopes to shield him from the worst of the storm. In any case, it will allow us the safest route and both roads lead to the same place.”
Jaheira accepted that. Without further delay, the two mounted Resolute and the heavy horse took off at a steady canter. The pace felt slow at first and Jaheira thought to ask the squire to set the horse at his quickest pace, but she did not. A full gallop would likely wear the horse out and might prove dangerous with the approaching storm. As they began to cross the field, the distance seemed to shrink.
The storm hit with such ferocity that Jaheira at first thought that Ajantis would slow the horse, but instead he pushed the horse into a light gallop. Resolute’s speed astonished Jaheira and they ate up the distance quickly. Soon, they two had rounded the northernmost part of the plateau. There Ajantis had to slow the beast, as the land became rocky and dangerous. They fell down to a mild trot.
Even behind the plateau, the wind whipped at them and the rain fell hard. Jaheira could not imagine what the southern side would be like. But the further they traveled, the more Jaheira was certain that Abdel and the others had not come that way. When they had taken a rest, she and Ajantis searched for any sign of the company.
“It seems you were right!” Ajantis told her, “I see no signs that they came this way!”
Jaheira nodded, but did not want to discuss it. She could not bear the thought of Khalid in the terrible storm. “Let us hope that they are already safe and sound in these stranger’s camp.”
“I pray to Helm that he is,” Ajantis said, though a tone in his voice told her that he was not saying all that he knew or guessed at. The thought worried her. Now and again, she would catch the squire staring up at the plateau itself.
After a break, the two rode Resolute around the north of the plateau, where they came upon an old cobbled road overgrown with weeds and grass, barely noticeable in the storm. Jaheira might not have noticed it, had it not been for the figures upon the road. Two of them there were; dueling fiercely with their swords.
“Who is that?” Jaheira asked.
“Evil.” Ajantis replied and spurred Resolute into a swift gallop.
They were not quick enough to interrupt the duel; the larger man had fiercely disarmed his opponent and drove his sword through his opponent’s chest, killing him. Then, in an act of barbarism, began to hack at the dying man’s body, laughing gleefully. Ajantis pulled Resolute up short and leapt down from his steed.
“Hold!” he called to the killer. “I say hold villain!”
The madman stopped his butchery, but did not turn to them. He was a large imposing man, dressed in gambeson and mail. In one hand he held a bloodied sword. Jaheira slowly slipped from the horse as well and approached. She noted that Ajantis had drawn his sword and she drew her scimitar and loosed her mistletoe.
“What is going on?” she asked Ajantis in a low voice. “Is this the evil you spoke of?”
“I fear not...though it is related.” the squire said quietly back to her. Then to the man. “You there, name yourself! I command you, by order of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart!”
The man’s shoulders shook and it took a moment before Jaheira realized the man to be laughing. Ajantis was taken aback. After a time, the madman stopped. “I? I am...I was Captain George Gallor.”
“Captain?” Ajantis called back. “Captain of what and to whom?”
“The Iron Helm Mercenary Band.” the man said to them. He still had not turned to face them. Instead he simply stared up into the storm.
“The Iron Helm?” Jaheira echoed.
Ajantis looked to her. “You have heard of them?”
“They are a very reputable group,” Jaheira said. “Though they sometimes undertake questionable employers and missions.”
The captain laughed. “Indeed we are! My men are the best! Were the best! That will all change. That damn fool! Daring to challenge the Stormlord! He will be punished! Already the Doomsayer approaches!”
“Stormlord?” Jaheira wondered.
“He speaks of Talos,” Ajantis said. “He is the god that goes by such a title.”
“Talos! Ha!” The captain laughed, “An old man! A doddering fool! A weak old god that has strayed from himself! Who accepts the lot handed to him by weaklings! I speak of Kozah! KOZAH! KOZAH!”
The man turned to face them. Jaheira gasped and nearly dropped her scimitar. The man had what had once been the face of a kind, good man, twisted by rage and insanity. In one hand he held the old sword. Jaheira recognized it as a strange cross between a gladius and an arming sword. A nasty grin crawled up his face.
“Kozah returns! And you will feed him! KOZAH! KOZAH!”
The captain charged.
Ajantis was quicker. Fearing nothing, he met the captain’s swing with his own sword. The captain roared and launched a ferocious attack upon the squire. Ajantis deflected the most direct lines of attack, but otherwise allowed his armor to shield him from the madman’s blows. The ancient sword struck, but did little more than leave a small dent. Ajantis returned the favor with various light blows against the captain, landing several cuts on his arm and chest.
“Finish him!” Jaheira demanded. “What are you waiting for?”
Ajantis did not respond, but instead retained his strategy. After a moment, Jaheira realized his strategy; the squire was wearing the captain out. His blows drew blood and damaged the captain’s ability to fight. The squire intended to defeat the man and take him captive. Jaheira scowled and slowly began to circle around to flank the captain. She had no time for such niceties. The man was clearly mad. He had to be dealt with.
Meanwhile, Ajantis began to lose ground. His strategy to weaken his opponent had seemingly failed. The captain seemed to draw upon a well of untapped strength with no limits. He hammered at Ajantis long after a healthy man like Abdel or Ajantis himself would have otherwise collapsed and the blows that Ajantis had dealt had not seemed to damage his ability to fight. Soon, Ajantis himself had grown tired and his blows were less effective and slower.
“Enough!” Jaheira came in from behind and slashed at the exposed left leg of the captain. The scimitar slashed through the thick boot and Jaheira felt it slice the hamstring of his leg. The captain roared, stumbled, but somehow remained standing. Then with astonishing speed, he spun and slashed his sword at Jaheira.
Only Jaheira’s elven reflexes saved her. She leapt back and narrowly avoided having her head taken clean from her shoulders. The captain roared and followed up the attack, but Jaheira managed to survive by deflecting the second swing and backstepping from the third. The captain pursued her, but the hamstringing proved to have some effect; he was slower and his balance was worse than it had been before.
“Captain Gallor!” Ajantis called. “Your battle is with me! Come!”
The captain ignored him and pursued Jaheira. Jaheira found she had no chance to match the captain’s swordplay, but her footwork proved superior. With each step, his balance grew more unsteady. Then, by chance, his undamage foot slipped and he only barely managed to maintain his footing by putting undue pressure on his wounded leg. The captain snarled through the pain, unwilling to fall. But he had exposed himself.
Jaheira moved in that brief moment of weakness and slashed nearly severing the man’s arm at the wrist. To her surprise, the sword did not come free, but neither could the captain wield it against her, tried as he might to retaliate. She slapped the sword away with almost contemptuous ease. The captain only grew more angry and launched himself at her, intent on tackling her.
Jaheira sidestepped and allowed the captain to tumble to the ground. She took a two-handed grip with her sword and drove her scimitar down into the spine of the captain’s neck. The blade split bone, erupted from his throat, and pierced the ground. The captain gave out a hoarse cry and thrashed, at Jaheira, but she kept him pinned. Jaheira had expected the struggle to continue for some while, but to her surprise, it was short-lived.
The sword fell away from the captain’s hand. Slowly, the captain turned his head to look up at Jaheira. She was astonished to see soft, pained eyes, red with grief. His eyes met hers and he gave her a nod. He said something, but she couldn’t catch it. Then coughed up blood and collapsed, the strength gone from him. Moments later, he was dead.
“I pity him,” she said. “For what madness took him.”
Ajantis stepped forward. “I thank you for the aid, but I had hoped to save him.”
Jaheira did not look the squire in the eyes. “There was no hope in saving him. He has mad. He would have killed you, had I not stepped in.”
“I would have risked it,” Ajantis said.
“I would not.” Jaheira said coldly. “For if you die, so shall my husband.”
“Before madness had taken him, he was as good a man as any I have met,” Ajantis said.
Jaheira stepped over the dead captain to recover his sword. “That may have been, but--”
“No! Don’t touch that!” Ajantis grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
“Release me!” Jaheira pulled her hand away.
“That sword is evil Jaheira!” Ajantis said. “It is what drove Captain Gallor mad! I can see the evil that radiates from it!”
Jaheira looked down at the sword in surprise. Could it be? She wondered. I had heard of such weapons that drive their wielders mad, but I have never seen one. She bent over and examined the sword with her eyes. Now that she saw it up close, she could make out etchings in the surface of the blood-stained blade; images of destruction and chaos. On the hilt she noted several ancient words that she did not understand, but all the same made her shiver with terror.
“Then what are we to do with it?” she asked Ajantis. She stood up. “We cannot simply leave it here to be discovered again.”
“Agreed,” Ajantis said. “Wait here, but do not touch.”
“You need not tell me twice.” Jaheira growled.
Ajantis nodded and went to one of the saddlebags on Resolute. He returned with a thick off-white cloth that had been tightly wound. Carefully the squire unwound it and used it to wrap the hilt of the sword then the blade. Then he carefully lifted it and carried it back to replace it in one of his saddlebags.
“This cloth was blessed by priests of my order,” he explained to Jaheira as he secured the saddlebag. “The sword’s evil will be contained within until I can have it properly disposed of. To be safe, don’t...”
Jaheira had stopped listening. Her gaze had caught upon the storm overhead and it had drawn her attention to the plateau itself. Her stomach twisted and her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest. “We must go now,” she told Ajantis.
“What? What is amiss?” Ajantis asked.
Jaheira pointed to the clouds. “Look, look how they move.” she told him. “The center of the storm is not out at sea, but the plateau itself!”
Ajantis stared up at the storm in alarm. “Of course,” he said loudly. “It’s all coming together! Quick! Get on! We cannot spare another moment!”
Chapter Fourteen
“Nib! You lying whoreson! I’m going to kill you!” Abdel yelled.
He and Imoen raced through the second chamber as fast as their legs would carry them. Behind them came the thundering steps of the guardian. Despite the head start the scholar had, he was in poor shape and the two were able to catch up to him inside the first chamber. They passed them as they raced to reach the open iron doors.
A great wind slammed into them so hard that all three of them were thrown to the ground. The great iron doors screeched as they were dragged by the wind and they slammed shut with a boom that echoed through the entire sanctum. Abdel heard their doom in it.
“No!” Abdel lept to his feet and ran to the doors. He threw his shoulder at one, hoping the great steel doors would budge, but he managed to only move it a mere inch before he bounced off, his shoulder bruised.
“Quick! Open it!” Imoen yelled. “He’s coming!”
Abdel looked back. The guardian strolled through the second chamber, his flaming eyes on them, a wide grin on its face. Abdel got to his feet and pushed on the iron doors. No good. The wind had stopped and they had not locked, but the doors were so heavy that it would have required several strong men to push open the door.
“I can’t move it!” Abdel yelled. “We’re trapped!”
“IthNal cOR dan osa Kozah!” the guardian boomed.
Abdel turned. The guardian had entered the first chamber. He grabbed the frantic Mister Nib, who still clutched the idol in his hands. Abdel gave him a good shake. “You did this! Do something! Give it back the idol!”
“No! I can’t!” Mister Nib screeched. “This is my life’s work! Proof that the ancient Netherese had colonized the Sword Coast! The artistic style on this idol is identical to the artistic representation of Kozah in…”
Abdel pulled the scholar toward him, bodily turned him around and pointed him at the approaching guardian. “HE IS GOING TO KILL US!” he screamed. “GIVE IT BACK THE DAMN STATUE!”
Abdel gave him a shove.
The scholar looked back, then looked at the approaching guardian. He swallowed. Abdel was sure that the scholar had rather ran, but there was nowhere for him to go. The scholar took a deep breath and took several timid steps forward. The guardian stopped. It stood over the small scholar, who quaked under its flaming gaze.
The scholar held up the idol, “M-my apologies to the Great and Powerful Kozah! I had not tried to rob his temple! I only wished to share his glory with the world again. Please, take this idol with my deepest apologies.”
The guardian stood still for a long moment, its face unreadable. Finally, it nodded and spoke in a deep, thundering tone. “The Great Kozah accepts your apology. You may have redemption. Go with his blessing.”
The scholar relaxed. “Wha-t? Oh. Oh! Thank you! Thank you! Praise Kozah! Praise Kozah! Praise--”
Fast as a viper, the guardian drove the tip of its flaming sword through the chest of the scholar. The searing heat burned through the chest and erupted out of the scholar’s back, blood turning to mist as it emerged. Mister Nibs looked down the flaming sword in his chest and screamed. A moment later, his clothes ignited.
Abdel and Imoen watched in horror as the scholar turned into a living torch. Mister Nibs screamed and flailed, but soon his screams became incoherent and his frantic movements stopped. The guardian drew its sword out and a moment later, the husk of Mister Nibs hit the floor, the idol still clutched in his smoldering hands.
“The heretic Charleston Nibs is forgiven.” the guardian boomed. It looked at Imoen and Abdel. “You too, shall have redemption.”
Abdel felt as if he had been hollowed out. He stared, transfixed at the still smoldering corpse.
“Abdel! What do we do?” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned and slammed himself into the door. It didn’t budge. He slammed into it again and again, but the door would not budge. He didn’t have the strength. He pressed both his hands together and pushed with all his might. He felt the door give, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough.
“We can’t get out!” Abdel yelled to her.
“Then what?” Imoen asked.
Abdel turned back to the guardian. He had not moved since he had stabbed Mister Nib. He seemed unconcerned with their attempt at escape. Abdel swallowed. He stepped forward a few paces, but kept out of ready reach of the giant. He took a deep breath and tried to think of what he might say to persuade the guardian to spare them.
“Guardian.” Abdel said. “We did not take your idol. We did not know that he intended to steal from you or your god. Please, show us mercy.”
The expression on the guardian did not change. “Your fate shall be the same his.”
To emphasize the point, the guardian raised a foot and planted it on Mister Nib’s chest. The chest caved and ash and smoke shot up. The guardian began to approach. He raised his flaming sword. Abdel raised Ashideena, but felt no confidence. There was no way he could fight something like that all on his own.
Steel flashed through the air. A knife struck the guardian in the face. There was a flash and spark. Pieces fell to the ground at the guardian’s feet. Another knife flew through the air, then another. Each and every one broke against the skin of the guardian. Finally, Imoen gave up and drew her sword.
“Your paltry weapons cannot hurt the Doomsayer of Kozah!” the guardian boomed. He raised his sword and brought the blade down at Abdel. Abdel tensed, uncertain what to do, but instinct answered for him. He rolled to his left and came up. The guardian grunted in surprise.
Abdel leapt forward and swung with Ashideena, but fast as lighting, the guardian brought his shield low to intercept the incoming blow. Ashideena sparked and punched a hole through the shield as wide as a man’s head. Abdel leapt back and swung blindly, smashing another hole in the shield.
The guardian scowled, “A futile effort god child.”
Abdel retreated several steps. The guardian followed. With its sword it stabbed down. Abdel evaded the jab, but only narrowly. The heat from the flame caused the end of his hair to smolder. To Abdel’s surprise, the guardian quickly turned the stab into a swing. Abdel screamed and dropped to his stomach. The blade flew overhead, baking his body in its intense heat.
Abdel scrambled to his feet, but he was too late; the guardian had recovered from his previous swing and had brought its sword back around for the fatal stroke. The blow stop mid-strike. Imoen had sneaked around the guardian's back and while it was distracted, she attacked with a two-handed grip, swung the sword at the heel of the guardian with all the strength she could muster. The blade did not pierce the exposed skin, but instead bent and twisted in her hands. The guardian had stopped his strike only to steady himself; he had been unharmed.
Imoen stared down at the now worthless sword in her hands. The guardian laughed and gave her a savage kick that sent her skipping into the opposite wall. The guardian turned back to Abdel, who had by then, recovered himself and launched himself in a desperate attack upon the guardian. The guardian cursed and tried to back away, but it was too late. Abdel slammed Ashideena’s head into the anklet. The anklet bent and Abdel felt something beneath it break.
The guardian howled. Abdel pulled the hammer back and struck again. The guardian released another howl. Abdel pulled back and prepared to swing again when he sensed movement behind him and it suddenly got much hotter. Abdel yelled and leapt between the guardian’s legs, but not before his back suddenly became scorching hot.
Abdel hit the ground and rolled. He twisted and turned, rolled, did whatever he could to try and put the flame out. It was no good, his gambeson had fully caught fire. Abdel dropped his hammer ripped at the buckles. In seconds he freed himself of the gambeson. It fell away and kept burning.. Abdel stared at the burning gambeson, fully realizing just how close he had been in sharing Mister Nib’s fate.
Something pulled on Abdel’s arm. He turned to see Imoen there. She was screaming, tears in her eyes and trying to get him to move. Abdel snapped back to and picked up Ashideena. He turned to the guardian. He had expected to see fear in its face, but he did not. Instead he only saw fury. Already the guardian was trying to get back to his feet. Abdel wondered how much damage he had actually done to the guardian.
“Abdel! Let’s go! Hurry!” Imoen yelled.
“There’s nowhere left to go!” Abdel shouted back at her. He eyed the guardian. “It’s now or never! He’s wounded. I need to finish him.”
“No! You almost died!” Imoen protested. “Follow me! I know a way out and he can’t follow!”
Abdel looked at Imoen doubtfully. A way out? Why hadn’t she said anything? He looked back to the guardian. It glared at him with a burning hatred. He looked back to Imoen. She was pale and scared, but he saw confidence in her eyes. He nodded. “Let’s go. Show the way.”
Imoen turn and ran. Not towards the door or any sort of secret passage that Abdel had hoped that she might have revealed, but back into the second chamber. Abdel hesitated, but followed. They passed through the second chamber and back out into the storm of the third chamber. Behind in the first chamber, the guardian limped after them. Abdel noted a sense of urgency he hadn’t before. Imoen is onto something. He thought.
“Which way?” Abdel asked.
“Up!” Imoen shouted.
“What?”
“Up!”
Imoen took a hard left in the second chamber. With surprising finesse she climbed up the side of the bridge and onto the thick stone frame around the door. Above the door, she began to scale the side of the rough, natural wall of the plateau. Above her, she had what seemed like a mile to go. Abdel stared at her in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious!” Abdel called to her.
Imoen turned back. “You gotta better idea?”
Abdel looked at the approaching guardian. He was halfway through the second chamber. He did not. Abdel replaced Ashideena on his belt loop and began to climb after Imoen. His initial climb was almost as fast as Imoen’s and he hoped that he would be well out of reach of the guardian when it arrived, but when he reached the natural wall, he found it difficult to find safe handholds. He marveled at Imoen’s speed to scale the wall.
Below, Abdel could hear the labors of the guardian as it struggled to catch up to him and he redoubled his efforts. Tall as the guardian was, Abdel did not wish to risk being in sword range or in range of anything the guardian might throw up at them, but it proved as difficult as it had seemed. Portions of the mud and rock wall, wet from the rain, came away in chunks and other times he felt himself slip against smooth surfaces. Overhead, Imoen made excellent time. He guessed her to be two dozen yards ahead. Now and again she would look down and call back to him to hurry.
Abdel did all he could to obey. He had scored maybe a dozen yards over the door when he heard the guardian enter the room. He looked down to see the guardian staring up at them, face twisted in rage. Abdel quickly realized the brilliance of Imoen’s risky plan; with its wounded leg, the guardian couldn’t possibly risk scaling the wall after them.
Or so he had thought. To his surprise, the guardian reached over the door and grabbed hold of the wall. He heard the sound of stone crack. With a grunt and a snarl, the guardian reached up further and its fingers broke into the stone wall. His feet came off the ground. With another motion, it had scaled a quarter of Abdel’s distance in moments. Abdel cursed and began to climb the wall with greater earnest, taking risks where he had not before. Several times he slipped and felt his heart drop, but he quickly recovered each time and continued his climb.
Abdel gained on Imoen, but below him the guardian gained on him. Abdel guessed he might be able to keep ahead of the great guardian for another five minutes or so. No more. Overhead, he saw Imoen scaling the wall. He thought that given her lead, she might be able to escape the guardian. Abdel looked down and determined that in his final moments, he would give her the time she needed to escape.
A flash of light and the sound of a hammer filled the cavern. Abdel looked up to see rock and dirt exploded over Imoen’s head. It tumble down on her and in that moment, she lost her grip. Abdel’s heart dropped when he saw Imoen fall from her place on the wall.
“No!” Abdel screamed.
He reached out to grab at her, but the mud and rocks hit him and nearly took him with. He screamed, but his hand found nothing but air and dirt. Abdel feared for a moment that his lifelong friend had died, but to his astonishment, he saw her emerge from the sudden rockslide five yards beneath him, clutching to the wall. Her face was scratched and beaten and the front of her tunic was covered in cuts and blood, but she was alive.
“Imoen!” Abdel screamed. “Hurry! He’s coming!”
Imoen began to climb again, but much slower than she had been before. Though she still moved with the same skill as before, she was slow from awkwardness and pain. She moved slower than Abdel did. Abdel cursed. Below them the guardian gained, unphased by the rockslide. Imoen looked down and then back up at Abdel. Abdel saw the same calculation in her face that Abdel must have had a moment before.
“No. No way in hell.” Abdel began to climb down after her.
Imoen shook her head and shouted up. “No! No don’t! I’m fine! Keep going!”
Abdel descended down to Imoen. “Get on!” he told her. “Get on my back! Hurry!”
“No!” Imoen yelled. “Keep going! I’ll catch up! Hurry! If you don’t he’ll kill us both!”
“No, I’m not leaving you!” Abdel yelled. “Get on! I can carry you!”
Imoen shook her head. “We don’t have time! Go! You’re slowing me down.”
Abdel looked down and gasped. The guardian had gained considerable in the short time. He would reach them in another minute. Abdel could see a grin on the guardian’s face. Abdel looked over to Imoen. He saw the fear in her face. She knew as well as he did that neither of them would escape now. They had wasted too much time.
Abdel looked at the guardian in disbelief. How in the hell is that bastard so fast without his legs…hold on! Abdel stared into the guardian’s burning eyes and grinned. The guardian stopped, confused. Abdel threw himself from the wall.
“Abdel! No! Abdel!” Imoen screamed. She tried to reach to catch him, but she was too slow.
Abdel dropped. Past Imoen, past the rock, past the guardian’s head and...Abdel grabbed at the guardian’s shoulders. His hands slipped on the bronze armor, but as he fell, Abdel found purchase in a frantic grasp on the guardian’s beard. The guardian roared as hairs came loose.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Abdel snarled.
The guardian spat something in its native language. Abdel felt the guardian try and get a hold with its feet. Abdel wasted no time. Securing his hold on the guardian’s beard, Abdel reached down with his free hand and pulled Ashideena free. He pulled himself up. The guardian snarled. Abdel pulled back Ashideena and slammed the hammer onto the guardian’s right shoulder. There was a crack and guardian let out a high scream. The right hand gave way and they swung on the left arm.
“Hey, guess which arm is next?” Abdel snarled at the guardian. He reached up and swung Ashideena into the elbow of the guardian. Abdel felt it shatter and the guardian screamed, but refused to release its hold. Abdel slammed Ashideena just below the elbow. Another bone broke.
The guardian lost his grip and they both plummeted from the wall. Out of instinct the guardian tried to catch himself with his feet, but found no purchase and only added to their momentum. In a split second they had flipped over. Abdel lost his grip on the guardian and they plummeted. The guardian smashed into the stone doorframe, ripping it down as he fell. Abdel fell with him and bounced off his body.
Abdel got to his feet, amazed to still be alive. He was covered in cuts and terrible bruises, but he was alive. He looked and to his horror, saw that the guardian too had lived. He struggled to get up with his broken shoulder and elbow. Abdel searched around and found Ashideena nearby; she had not gone far in the fall.
Abdel pluced the warhammer up and ran atop the guardian’s back. The guardian realized what was about to happen and began to thrash, but it was too little, too late. With a roar, Abdel brought Ashideena down upon the guardian’s skull once, twice, and finally thrice. He had caved in half the man’s head.
The guardian went limp and did not move again.
Abdel stared down at the dead guardian for a long moment, then looked up to Imoen. “It’s dead! You can come down now!”
Imoen nodded and carefully began to climb her way back down. The progress was slow and she almost lost her place several times. Abel looked for a way back up to her, but the stone doorframe he had used before had been destroyed.
“You’re going to have to hang when you get down here,” Abdel called up to her, “The frame has been destroyed. I’ll help you down.”
There was a loud rumble from deep beneath Abdel. Abdel looked around, alarmed. Had that been thunder or was it an earthquake. Abdel looked up and saw Imoen was still a dozen yards above. Her progress seemed to go at a snail’s pace. Another rumble shook the plateau and Abdel feel as though they weren’t out of danger yet.
“Hurry!” Abdel called to her. “I don’t like the sound of that rumbling!”
What Imoen said in response, Abdel did not hear, because at that very moment, a bolt of lightning raced down from the sky and struck the altar, blasting it into a million fragments that send Abdel diving for cover. He looked back in time to see the remains of the altar and the ground below it plummet into the abyss. More lightning flashed above, scorching the walls and blasting out chunks of rocks and mud to rain down the shaft. A downpour unlike Abdel had ever seen began to pour down from the open shaft. Abdel turned to Imoen. She was still too far up.
“Imoen!” he yelled.
“I know!” she yelled back.
More rumbling. Behind him, half the bridge broke away. A loud bang opposite showed that one of the silver doors had fallen loose from its hinges. From all around them, Abdel could hear the temple beginning to break apart. Kozah was trying to kill them with his own temple.
“Imoen!” Abdel called up. “Jump!”
“What! Are you nuts?”
“Jump!” Abdel called back. “I’ll catch you!”
She looked down doubtfully.
Abdel replaced Ashideena at his belt and held out his hands. “Jump! Jump! We need to get out now!”
“Wait, just a bit further!” Imoen called and she began to descend more rapidly, slipping twice as she did.
The sound of breaking stone came below him. Abdel looked down and saw that the rest of the bridge was cracked and it would not hold up long. He looked up at Imoen. She was still descending and made no indication that she was ready to jump. He tried calling to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Finally, Abdel grabbed a piece of rock and threw it up to smack the wall beside her. She looked down.
“Jump! Jump!” Abdel screamed. He pointed to the bridge beneath him, even as several chunks broke away from the rest of the bridge and tumbled into the abyss. “No more time! Jump! Jump!”
Imoen nodded, braced herself, and threw herself away from the wall. Abdel held up his arms and tried to aim himself to catch her. Imoen fell several yards and slammed into Abdel’s waiting arms. They both fell atop the guardian. Abdel scrambled up. Imoen did so as well, but was much slower. She had broken something, Abdel was sure.
Thunder boomed overhead. Behind them the bridge began to disintegrate. The guardian’s body began to slide backwards as the bridge beneath him disappeared. The two of them screamed and scrambled for the door. The guardian’s body began to slip faster and faster. Imoen leapt first and tumbled into the second chamber. Abdel was behind her, running atop the guardian’s back even as he slipped into oblivion.
Abdel gagged as he felt his boot step into the collapsed skull and squish gray matter. He did not slow though; he jumped and slammed the air out of his lungs when his chest hit the floor. Frantically Abdel scrambled the rest of the way into the second chamber. Abdel turned and stared as the guardian’s corpse vanished into the void below.
“Abdel! The walls!”
Abdel looked around. Blood seeped from the cracked walls of the second chamber. They began to flow down into the floor and pool in the bowl that had been made in the floor. The three poles each broke in turn.
“Let’s get out of here!” Abdel shouted.
“I-I can’t run!” Imoen protested.
Abdel leapt to his feet and rushed to Imoen. He ignored her protests and threw her over his shoulder and ran as fast as his feet would carry him out of the second chamber and to the steel doors of the first chamber. All around them the pill cracked and pieces of the ceiling crashed down around them. Abdel zigged and zagged around fallen debris, narrowly avoiding getting crushed. The steel doors were still closed. As Abdel approached, thunder boomed and he thought he could hear laughter in it.
Abel gritted his teeth. Rage built within him. He wasn’t going to die in some old blasted temple to a dead and forgotten god. A strange energy filled him and Abdel knew, knew the door would not stop him. He pumped his legs and roared as he shoved his free shoulder into the door. There was a crack and Abdel felt himself bounce off the door. He staggered and felt his shoulder, certain that he had shattered it, but to his surprise, he had not. Ahead of him, the iron door creaked and to his astonishment, began to tip over. Somehow, he had broken the door off its hinges.
With a loud boom that shook the floor, the iron door slammed into the ground. Without delay, Abdel fled into the storm outside. Behind him, the second chamber’s roof collapsed, followed by the first. Abdel thought he heard the scream of an angry voice. Above him, the statue began to crack and snap in places. Thick chunks of rock plummeted down all around them. Abdel pumped his legs and ran as fast as he could to the iron staff that served as the stairs.
**************
Jaheira and Ajantis had arrived a bit earlier at the camp. The storm had been so fierce outside that both were soaked from head to foot. They banged on the door until someone answered. “Go away!” the man called back. “This is the private enterprise of Mister Charleston Nib!”
“Please, my husband is inside! His name is Khalid!” Jaheira pleaded.
“Get lost!”
The man was about to leave, but Ajantis stepped forward. “I am Ajantis Ilvastarr, Squire of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. I swear by my honor that this woman speaks the truth and in all that is Holy and Dear to Helm, I ask you open this door.”
The guard grew rigid. “Hold on your lordship...just a moment.” the guard said. He vanished and returned a minute later. “Alright. The woman’s story checks out. We have a wounded man here who might match your description. Was he accompanied by anyone, do you know?”
“Yes, two friends of mine.” Jaheira said. “A young girl and boy by the names of Imoen and Abdel.”
“Yeah, that sounds like the two we saw come in with Captain Gallor.” the guard said.
“C-captain Gallor?” Jaheira asked.
“Yeah, he commands our mercenary group.” the guard said.
“The I have grave news, but let us not speak of it here!” Ajantis said.
The guard opened the gate and the two entered. At Jaheira’s insistence, they were taken to Khalid at once, who had been put up in the captain’s own tent. To her amazement, her husband was still alive, though he only just clung to life. She wept for joy.
“Khalid! Khalid! You’re alive!” she cried. “You only need to make it till dawn love, I will call upon all the healing that I know to save you!”
Ajantis stepped forward. “He need not wait so long.”
Ajantis placed his gauntlets upon the bandaged wound. He spoke several soft words and the gauntlets upon his hands began to glow with a golden light. The light traveled from the gauntlets to the dying half-elf, then faded away. Ajantis opened his eyes. “I did as much as these blessed gauntlets allow.”
Khalid began to stir. He opened his eyes and saw Jaheira. His face was pale and his voice wea, but Jaheira saw that the pain was mostly gone. “J-J-Jaheira?” he called weakly.
“I’m here my love,” Jaheira said. “This man is Ajantis. He is a squire of the Radiant Heart. He saved you.”
Khalid gave her thanks to the paladin. Ajantis nodded and turned to the man who had brought them there. “Please take me to who currently commands the camp. It is imperative that I speak to him immediately.”
“Uh, yes sire.”
When they had left, Khalid turned to Jaheira, his face was full of guilt. “Jaheira, I’m s-s-sorry.” he said.
“No, no.” Jaheira said. “It is I who am sorry. I should have never left you.”
“N-no.” Khalid shook his head. “I-I, I n-n-need a d-d-drink.”
“...Water?” Jaheira asked, though as soon as she had said it she knew that was not what he had meant.
Khalid shook his head.
“Khalid, you don’t need it.” Jaheira told him. “You have survived this long! Why not stay off it and be done with it?”
Khalid shook his head. “J-Jaheira, I-I n-n-need it. P-p-please.”
Something in Jaheira’s heart died. She gave her husband a small smile and searched the tent. She discovered a small stash of Bitter Black Ale in a small cask. She located a small metal cup and used it as a cup. Khalid quickly downed it and she refilled it. He drank that and another two before he had finally seemed to stabilize.
“Where are Abdel and Imoen?” Jaheira has asked between cups.
“I d-d-don’t know,” Khalid had said. “I-I o-only remember the f-f-fight.”
Jaheira sighed. She wondered where the two had gone. The storm outside intensified so badly that she thought the earth itself rumbled. Minutes later, the tent flap opened. It was Ajantis.
“Jaheira! Come quick!” he called.
Jaheira leapt to her feet and raced out of the tent, ignoring Khalid’s request for another cup. Outside the storm had changed. The storm clouds overhead, which Jaheira had known to be circling the plateau, had picked up speed. Repeated lightning strikes blasted the top of the plateau. In the flashes of light she saw a great, towering giant statue of a bearded man with a staff. A great heaviness fell upon her heart.
“Where is Abdel and Imoen?” she called to Ajantis over the storm.
“They’re in there.” Ajantis said. “And I sense a great evil within that plateau. The mercenaries told me that it is a temple to an ancient god of some sort. They do not know or will not say.”
Then it happened; pieces of the plateau’s front began to fall away. Deep cracks opened in its front facing. The great statue began to fall apart; its head tumbled off its shoulder and slammed down to the ground and exploded.
“No! We have to help them!” Jaheira started forward, but a Ajantis grabbed her by the arm.
“There is nothing we can do.” he said. “Not unless you have it within you to quell the very storm itself.”
Jaheira shook her head. She did not know if any such druid--not even the Grand Druid, had such power. She watched helplessly as the plateau split open and its guts spilled out. Jaheira screamed. The inside of the plateau tumbled outwards and down the slop of the land and only by some miracle did it stop at the foot of the camp. Overhead the storm had blown itself out.
The thick churning clouds had turned to thin and grey and seemed to be retreating with the breeze to the east. Jaheira didn’t wait. She raced up the slope, heedless of any further rockslides or other dangers. They can’t be dead. They can’t be dead. They can’t be.
Jaheira reached the base of the plateau. The entire temple had been destroyed. Jaheira only caught echoes of what had once been the first guard room and above she saw the ruined walls of the inner sanctum. Deep into the plateau she saw a deep pit that seemed to drain all the excess water towards it. She did not go near that pit; she felt a great and terrible darkness gathering there.
Jaheira broke down sobbing. I failed you Gorion. I failed them. I failed. They’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
The sound of scraping metal and rock caused Jaheira to jump. She spun on her heel and pulled her scimitar free, ready to face any danger with as much rage as her grief could channel. There was no enemy. There was no danger. Jaheira scanned the ruins and tried to pinpoint the sound with her ears. The scraping was irregular and slow. She frowned. What could that be?
She located the sound. It came from a wide iron pillar. Jaheira recognized it of having been a part of the staff that the statue had held before the temple collapsed. She could just make out, below some rubble, the outlines of an iron door. Jaheira gasped and ran to the door.
“Abdel? Abdel! Abdel is that you?”
“Jaheira!” came a voice from within. “Jaheira? Is that you?”
“Yes!” Jaheira called back. “Abdel! Where’s Imoen?”
“In here!” Abdel called back. “She’s hurt, but alive! I can’t get out!”
“They’re rocks in the way.” Jaheira called back. “Let me clear them!”
Jaheira set to clearing the door. She pushed away the heavy rocks and rolled the heaviest slowly off and away from the door. Within minutes, she had removed the largest rocks. She backed down the mound of rocks and called Abdel to try again. She heard Abdel grunt and saw the door shudder, then the remaining rocks fell out of the way. Abdel staggered out, cut, bruised, and bloody--but alive.
Jaheira threw herself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re alive!” she cried. “I thought for certain that...well, no. Nevermind. Where’s Imoen?”
“Inside,” he told her.
“Rest here,” Jaheira told him and stepped inside the door. She found Imoen not far, laid gently on the stairs. A large lump on her head; it looked bad and bled a it, but Jaheira did not think it looked too bad. She looked from her to Abdel. Still unable to believe that they had survived the destruction of the temple.
After a few minutes, Abdel said. “We should get back to the camp. Captain Gallor will want to learn what has happened.”
Jaheira knew that he would never hear anything of the sort, but she did not say. Instead she said, “You look terrible. I will carry Imoen.”
Abdel objected, but Jaheira ignored him and gently put the unconscious woman over her shoulder and staggered out. “C’mon, don’t waste time. You both need to be treated.”
Abdel sighed, but followed without further complaint.
“Nib! You lying whoreson! I’m going to kill you!” Abdel yelled.
He and Imoen raced through the second chamber as fast as their legs would carry them. Behind them came the thundering steps of the guardian. Despite the head start the scholar had, he was in poor shape and the two were able to catch up to him inside the first chamber. They passed them as they raced to reach the open iron doors.
A great wind slammed into them so hard that all three of them were thrown to the ground. The great iron doors screeched as they were dragged by the wind and they slammed shut with a boom that echoed through the entire sanctum. Abdel heard their doom in it.
“No!” Abdel lept to his feet and ran to the doors. He threw his shoulder at one, hoping the great steel doors would budge, but he managed to only move it a mere inch before he bounced off, his shoulder bruised.
“Quick! Open it!” Imoen yelled. “He’s coming!”
Abdel looked back. The guardian strolled through the second chamber, his flaming eyes on them, a wide grin on its face. Abdel got to his feet and pushed on the iron doors. No good. The wind had stopped and they had not locked, but the doors were so heavy that it would have required several strong men to push open the door.
“I can’t move it!” Abdel yelled. “We’re trapped!”
“IthNal cOR dan osa Kozah!” the guardian boomed.
Abdel turned. The guardian had entered the first chamber. He grabbed the frantic Mister Nib, who still clutched the idol in his hands. Abdel gave him a good shake. “You did this! Do something! Give it back the idol!”
“No! I can’t!” Mister Nib screeched. “This is my life’s work! Proof that the ancient Netherese had colonized the Sword Coast! The artistic style on this idol is identical to the artistic representation of Kozah in…”
Abdel pulled the scholar toward him, bodily turned him around and pointed him at the approaching guardian. “HE IS GOING TO KILL US!” he screamed. “GIVE IT BACK THE DAMN STATUE!”
Abdel gave him a shove.
The scholar looked back, then looked at the approaching guardian. He swallowed. Abdel was sure that the scholar had rather ran, but there was nowhere for him to go. The scholar took a deep breath and took several timid steps forward. The guardian stopped. It stood over the small scholar, who quaked under its flaming gaze.
The scholar held up the idol, “M-my apologies to the Great and Powerful Kozah! I had not tried to rob his temple! I only wished to share his glory with the world again. Please, take this idol with my deepest apologies.”
The guardian stood still for a long moment, its face unreadable. Finally, it nodded and spoke in a deep, thundering tone. “The Great Kozah accepts your apology. You may have redemption. Go with his blessing.”
The scholar relaxed. “Wha-t? Oh. Oh! Thank you! Thank you! Praise Kozah! Praise Kozah! Praise--”
Fast as a viper, the guardian drove the tip of its flaming sword through the chest of the scholar. The searing heat burned through the chest and erupted out of the scholar’s back, blood turning to mist as it emerged. Mister Nibs looked down the flaming sword in his chest and screamed. A moment later, his clothes ignited.
Abdel and Imoen watched in horror as the scholar turned into a living torch. Mister Nibs screamed and flailed, but soon his screams became incoherent and his frantic movements stopped. The guardian drew its sword out and a moment later, the husk of Mister Nibs hit the floor, the idol still clutched in his smoldering hands.
“The heretic Charleston Nibs is forgiven.” the guardian boomed. It looked at Imoen and Abdel. “You too, shall have redemption.”
Abdel felt as if he had been hollowed out. He stared, transfixed at the still smoldering corpse.
“Abdel! What do we do?” Imoen yelled.
Abdel turned and slammed himself into the door. It didn’t budge. He slammed into it again and again, but the door would not budge. He didn’t have the strength. He pressed both his hands together and pushed with all his might. He felt the door give, but it was not enough. Not nearly enough.
“We can’t get out!” Abdel yelled to her.
“Then what?” Imoen asked.
Abdel turned back to the guardian. He had not moved since he had stabbed Mister Nib. He seemed unconcerned with their attempt at escape. Abdel swallowed. He stepped forward a few paces, but kept out of ready reach of the giant. He took a deep breath and tried to think of what he might say to persuade the guardian to spare them.
“Guardian.” Abdel said. “We did not take your idol. We did not know that he intended to steal from you or your god. Please, show us mercy.”
The expression on the guardian did not change. “Your fate shall be the same his.”
To emphasize the point, the guardian raised a foot and planted it on Mister Nib’s chest. The chest caved and ash and smoke shot up. The guardian began to approach. He raised his flaming sword. Abdel raised Ashideena, but felt no confidence. There was no way he could fight something like that all on his own.
Steel flashed through the air. A knife struck the guardian in the face. There was a flash and spark. Pieces fell to the ground at the guardian’s feet. Another knife flew through the air, then another. Each and every one broke against the skin of the guardian. Finally, Imoen gave up and drew her sword.
“Your paltry weapons cannot hurt the Doomsayer of Kozah!” the guardian boomed. He raised his sword and brought the blade down at Abdel. Abdel tensed, uncertain what to do, but instinct answered for him. He rolled to his left and came up. The guardian grunted in surprise.
Abdel leapt forward and swung with Ashideena, but fast as lighting, the guardian brought his shield low to intercept the incoming blow. Ashideena sparked and punched a hole through the shield as wide as a man’s head. Abdel leapt back and swung blindly, smashing another hole in the shield.
The guardian scowled, “A futile effort god child.”
Abdel retreated several steps. The guardian followed. With its sword it stabbed down. Abdel evaded the jab, but only narrowly. The heat from the flame caused the end of his hair to smolder. To Abdel’s surprise, the guardian quickly turned the stab into a swing. Abdel screamed and dropped to his stomach. The blade flew overhead, baking his body in its intense heat.
Abdel scrambled to his feet, but he was too late; the guardian had recovered from his previous swing and had brought its sword back around for the fatal stroke. The blow stop mid-strike. Imoen had sneaked around the guardian's back and while it was distracted, she attacked with a two-handed grip, swung the sword at the heel of the guardian with all the strength she could muster. The blade did not pierce the exposed skin, but instead bent and twisted in her hands. The guardian had stopped his strike only to steady himself; he had been unharmed.
Imoen stared down at the now worthless sword in her hands. The guardian laughed and gave her a savage kick that sent her skipping into the opposite wall. The guardian turned back to Abdel, who had by then, recovered himself and launched himself in a desperate attack upon the guardian. The guardian cursed and tried to back away, but it was too late. Abdel slammed Ashideena’s head into the anklet. The anklet bent and Abdel felt something beneath it break.
The guardian howled. Abdel pulled the hammer back and struck again. The guardian released another howl. Abdel pulled back and prepared to swing again when he sensed movement behind him and it suddenly got much hotter. Abdel yelled and leapt between the guardian’s legs, but not before his back suddenly became scorching hot.
Abdel hit the ground and rolled. He twisted and turned, rolled, did whatever he could to try and put the flame out. It was no good, his gambeson had fully caught fire. Abdel dropped his hammer ripped at the buckles. In seconds he freed himself of the gambeson. It fell away and kept burning.. Abdel stared at the burning gambeson, fully realizing just how close he had been in sharing Mister Nib’s fate.
Something pulled on Abdel’s arm. He turned to see Imoen there. She was screaming, tears in her eyes and trying to get him to move. Abdel snapped back to and picked up Ashideena. He turned to the guardian. He had expected to see fear in its face, but he did not. Instead he only saw fury. Already the guardian was trying to get back to his feet. Abdel wondered how much damage he had actually done to the guardian.
“Abdel! Let’s go! Hurry!” Imoen yelled.
“There’s nowhere left to go!” Abdel shouted back at her. He eyed the guardian. “It’s now or never! He’s wounded. I need to finish him.”
“No! You almost died!” Imoen protested. “Follow me! I know a way out and he can’t follow!”
Abdel looked at Imoen doubtfully. A way out? Why hadn’t she said anything? He looked back to the guardian. It glared at him with a burning hatred. He looked back to Imoen. She was pale and scared, but he saw confidence in her eyes. He nodded. “Let’s go. Show the way.”
Imoen turn and ran. Not towards the door or any sort of secret passage that Abdel had hoped that she might have revealed, but back into the second chamber. Abdel hesitated, but followed. They passed through the second chamber and back out into the storm of the third chamber. Behind in the first chamber, the guardian limped after them. Abdel noted a sense of urgency he hadn’t before. Imoen is onto something. He thought.
“Which way?” Abdel asked.
“Up!” Imoen shouted.
“What?”
“Up!”
Imoen took a hard left in the second chamber. With surprising finesse she climbed up the side of the bridge and onto the thick stone frame around the door. Above the door, she began to scale the side of the rough, natural wall of the plateau. Above her, she had what seemed like a mile to go. Abdel stared at her in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious!” Abdel called to her.
Imoen turned back. “You gotta better idea?”
Abdel looked at the approaching guardian. He was halfway through the second chamber. He did not. Abdel replaced Ashideena on his belt loop and began to climb after Imoen. His initial climb was almost as fast as Imoen’s and he hoped that he would be well out of reach of the guardian when it arrived, but when he reached the natural wall, he found it difficult to find safe handholds. He marveled at Imoen’s speed to scale the wall.
Below, Abdel could hear the labors of the guardian as it struggled to catch up to him and he redoubled his efforts. Tall as the guardian was, Abdel did not wish to risk being in sword range or in range of anything the guardian might throw up at them, but it proved as difficult as it had seemed. Portions of the mud and rock wall, wet from the rain, came away in chunks and other times he felt himself slip against smooth surfaces. Overhead, Imoen made excellent time. He guessed her to be two dozen yards ahead. Now and again she would look down and call back to him to hurry.
Abdel did all he could to obey. He had scored maybe a dozen yards over the door when he heard the guardian enter the room. He looked down to see the guardian staring up at them, face twisted in rage. Abdel quickly realized the brilliance of Imoen’s risky plan; with its wounded leg, the guardian couldn’t possibly risk scaling the wall after them.
Or so he had thought. To his surprise, the guardian reached over the door and grabbed hold of the wall. He heard the sound of stone crack. With a grunt and a snarl, the guardian reached up further and its fingers broke into the stone wall. His feet came off the ground. With another motion, it had scaled a quarter of Abdel’s distance in moments. Abdel cursed and began to climb the wall with greater earnest, taking risks where he had not before. Several times he slipped and felt his heart drop, but he quickly recovered each time and continued his climb.
Abdel gained on Imoen, but below him the guardian gained on him. Abdel guessed he might be able to keep ahead of the great guardian for another five minutes or so. No more. Overhead, he saw Imoen scaling the wall. He thought that given her lead, she might be able to escape the guardian. Abdel looked down and determined that in his final moments, he would give her the time she needed to escape.
A flash of light and the sound of a hammer filled the cavern. Abdel looked up to see rock and dirt exploded over Imoen’s head. It tumble down on her and in that moment, she lost her grip. Abdel’s heart dropped when he saw Imoen fall from her place on the wall.
“No!” Abdel screamed.
He reached out to grab at her, but the mud and rocks hit him and nearly took him with. He screamed, but his hand found nothing but air and dirt. Abdel feared for a moment that his lifelong friend had died, but to his astonishment, he saw her emerge from the sudden rockslide five yards beneath him, clutching to the wall. Her face was scratched and beaten and the front of her tunic was covered in cuts and blood, but she was alive.
“Imoen!” Abdel screamed. “Hurry! He’s coming!”
Imoen began to climb again, but much slower than she had been before. Though she still moved with the same skill as before, she was slow from awkwardness and pain. She moved slower than Abdel did. Abdel cursed. Below them the guardian gained, unphased by the rockslide. Imoen looked down and then back up at Abdel. Abdel saw the same calculation in her face that Abdel must have had a moment before.
“No. No way in hell.” Abdel began to climb down after her.
Imoen shook her head and shouted up. “No! No don’t! I’m fine! Keep going!”
Abdel descended down to Imoen. “Get on!” he told her. “Get on my back! Hurry!”
“No!” Imoen yelled. “Keep going! I’ll catch up! Hurry! If you don’t he’ll kill us both!”
“No, I’m not leaving you!” Abdel yelled. “Get on! I can carry you!”
Imoen shook her head. “We don’t have time! Go! You’re slowing me down.”
Abdel looked down and gasped. The guardian had gained considerable in the short time. He would reach them in another minute. Abdel could see a grin on the guardian’s face. Abdel looked over to Imoen. He saw the fear in her face. She knew as well as he did that neither of them would escape now. They had wasted too much time.
Abdel looked at the guardian in disbelief. How in the hell is that bastard so fast without his legs…hold on! Abdel stared into the guardian’s burning eyes and grinned. The guardian stopped, confused. Abdel threw himself from the wall.
“Abdel! No! Abdel!” Imoen screamed. She tried to reach to catch him, but she was too slow.
Abdel dropped. Past Imoen, past the rock, past the guardian’s head and...Abdel grabbed at the guardian’s shoulders. His hands slipped on the bronze armor, but as he fell, Abdel found purchase in a frantic grasp on the guardian’s beard. The guardian roared as hairs came loose.
“Hurts, don’t it?” Abdel snarled.
The guardian spat something in its native language. Abdel felt the guardian try and get a hold with its feet. Abdel wasted no time. Securing his hold on the guardian’s beard, Abdel reached down with his free hand and pulled Ashideena free. He pulled himself up. The guardian snarled. Abdel pulled back Ashideena and slammed the hammer onto the guardian’s right shoulder. There was a crack and guardian let out a high scream. The right hand gave way and they swung on the left arm.
“Hey, guess which arm is next?” Abdel snarled at the guardian. He reached up and swung Ashideena into the elbow of the guardian. Abdel felt it shatter and the guardian screamed, but refused to release its hold. Abdel slammed Ashideena just below the elbow. Another bone broke.
The guardian lost his grip and they both plummeted from the wall. Out of instinct the guardian tried to catch himself with his feet, but found no purchase and only added to their momentum. In a split second they had flipped over. Abdel lost his grip on the guardian and they plummeted. The guardian smashed into the stone doorframe, ripping it down as he fell. Abdel fell with him and bounced off his body.
Abdel got to his feet, amazed to still be alive. He was covered in cuts and terrible bruises, but he was alive. He looked and to his horror, saw that the guardian too had lived. He struggled to get up with his broken shoulder and elbow. Abdel searched around and found Ashideena nearby; she had not gone far in the fall.
Abdel pluced the warhammer up and ran atop the guardian’s back. The guardian realized what was about to happen and began to thrash, but it was too little, too late. With a roar, Abdel brought Ashideena down upon the guardian’s skull once, twice, and finally thrice. He had caved in half the man’s head.
The guardian went limp and did not move again.
Abdel stared down at the dead guardian for a long moment, then looked up to Imoen. “It’s dead! You can come down now!”
Imoen nodded and carefully began to climb her way back down. The progress was slow and she almost lost her place several times. Abel looked for a way back up to her, but the stone doorframe he had used before had been destroyed.
“You’re going to have to hang when you get down here,” Abdel called up to her, “The frame has been destroyed. I’ll help you down.”
There was a loud rumble from deep beneath Abdel. Abdel looked around, alarmed. Had that been thunder or was it an earthquake. Abdel looked up and saw Imoen was still a dozen yards above. Her progress seemed to go at a snail’s pace. Another rumble shook the plateau and Abdel feel as though they weren’t out of danger yet.
“Hurry!” Abdel called to her. “I don’t like the sound of that rumbling!”
What Imoen said in response, Abdel did not hear, because at that very moment, a bolt of lightning raced down from the sky and struck the altar, blasting it into a million fragments that send Abdel diving for cover. He looked back in time to see the remains of the altar and the ground below it plummet into the abyss. More lightning flashed above, scorching the walls and blasting out chunks of rocks and mud to rain down the shaft. A downpour unlike Abdel had ever seen began to pour down from the open shaft. Abdel turned to Imoen. She was still too far up.
“Imoen!” he yelled.
“I know!” she yelled back.
More rumbling. Behind him, half the bridge broke away. A loud bang opposite showed that one of the silver doors had fallen loose from its hinges. From all around them, Abdel could hear the temple beginning to break apart. Kozah was trying to kill them with his own temple.
“Imoen!” Abdel called up. “Jump!”
“What! Are you nuts?”
“Jump!” Abdel called back. “I’ll catch you!”
She looked down doubtfully.
Abdel replaced Ashideena at his belt and held out his hands. “Jump! Jump! We need to get out now!”
“Wait, just a bit further!” Imoen called and she began to descend more rapidly, slipping twice as she did.
The sound of breaking stone came below him. Abdel looked down and saw that the rest of the bridge was cracked and it would not hold up long. He looked up at Imoen. She was still descending and made no indication that she was ready to jump. He tried calling to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Finally, Abdel grabbed a piece of rock and threw it up to smack the wall beside her. She looked down.
“Jump! Jump!” Abdel screamed. He pointed to the bridge beneath him, even as several chunks broke away from the rest of the bridge and tumbled into the abyss. “No more time! Jump! Jump!”
Imoen nodded, braced herself, and threw herself away from the wall. Abdel held up his arms and tried to aim himself to catch her. Imoen fell several yards and slammed into Abdel’s waiting arms. They both fell atop the guardian. Abdel scrambled up. Imoen did so as well, but was much slower. She had broken something, Abdel was sure.
Thunder boomed overhead. Behind them the bridge began to disintegrate. The guardian’s body began to slide backwards as the bridge beneath him disappeared. The two of them screamed and scrambled for the door. The guardian’s body began to slip faster and faster. Imoen leapt first and tumbled into the second chamber. Abdel was behind her, running atop the guardian’s back even as he slipped into oblivion.
Abdel gagged as he felt his boot step into the collapsed skull and squish gray matter. He did not slow though; he jumped and slammed the air out of his lungs when his chest hit the floor. Frantically Abdel scrambled the rest of the way into the second chamber. Abdel turned and stared as the guardian’s corpse vanished into the void below.
“Abdel! The walls!”
Abdel looked around. Blood seeped from the cracked walls of the second chamber. They began to flow down into the floor and pool in the bowl that had been made in the floor. The three poles each broke in turn.
“Let’s get out of here!” Abdel shouted.
“I-I can’t run!” Imoen protested.
Abdel leapt to his feet and rushed to Imoen. He ignored her protests and threw her over his shoulder and ran as fast as his feet would carry him out of the second chamber and to the steel doors of the first chamber. All around them the pill cracked and pieces of the ceiling crashed down around them. Abdel zigged and zagged around fallen debris, narrowly avoiding getting crushed. The steel doors were still closed. As Abdel approached, thunder boomed and he thought he could hear laughter in it.
Abel gritted his teeth. Rage built within him. He wasn’t going to die in some old blasted temple to a dead and forgotten god. A strange energy filled him and Abdel knew, knew the door would not stop him. He pumped his legs and roared as he shoved his free shoulder into the door. There was a crack and Abdel felt himself bounce off the door. He staggered and felt his shoulder, certain that he had shattered it, but to his surprise, he had not. Ahead of him, the iron door creaked and to his astonishment, began to tip over. Somehow, he had broken the door off its hinges.
With a loud boom that shook the floor, the iron door slammed into the ground. Without delay, Abdel fled into the storm outside. Behind him, the second chamber’s roof collapsed, followed by the first. Abdel thought he heard the scream of an angry voice. Above him, the statue began to crack and snap in places. Thick chunks of rock plummeted down all around them. Abdel pumped his legs and ran as fast as he could to the iron staff that served as the stairs.
**************
Jaheira and Ajantis had arrived a bit earlier at the camp. The storm had been so fierce outside that both were soaked from head to foot. They banged on the door until someone answered. “Go away!” the man called back. “This is the private enterprise of Mister Charleston Nib!”
“Please, my husband is inside! His name is Khalid!” Jaheira pleaded.
“Get lost!”
The man was about to leave, but Ajantis stepped forward. “I am Ajantis Ilvastarr, Squire of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. I swear by my honor that this woman speaks the truth and in all that is Holy and Dear to Helm, I ask you open this door.”
The guard grew rigid. “Hold on your lordship...just a moment.” the guard said. He vanished and returned a minute later. “Alright. The woman’s story checks out. We have a wounded man here who might match your description. Was he accompanied by anyone, do you know?”
“Yes, two friends of mine.” Jaheira said. “A young girl and boy by the names of Imoen and Abdel.”
“Yeah, that sounds like the two we saw come in with Captain Gallor.” the guard said.
“C-captain Gallor?” Jaheira asked.
“Yeah, he commands our mercenary group.” the guard said.
“The I have grave news, but let us not speak of it here!” Ajantis said.
The guard opened the gate and the two entered. At Jaheira’s insistence, they were taken to Khalid at once, who had been put up in the captain’s own tent. To her amazement, her husband was still alive, though he only just clung to life. She wept for joy.
“Khalid! Khalid! You’re alive!” she cried. “You only need to make it till dawn love, I will call upon all the healing that I know to save you!”
Ajantis stepped forward. “He need not wait so long.”
Ajantis placed his gauntlets upon the bandaged wound. He spoke several soft words and the gauntlets upon his hands began to glow with a golden light. The light traveled from the gauntlets to the dying half-elf, then faded away. Ajantis opened his eyes. “I did as much as these blessed gauntlets allow.”
Khalid began to stir. He opened his eyes and saw Jaheira. His face was pale and his voice wea, but Jaheira saw that the pain was mostly gone. “J-J-Jaheira?” he called weakly.
“I’m here my love,” Jaheira said. “This man is Ajantis. He is a squire of the Radiant Heart. He saved you.”
Khalid gave her thanks to the paladin. Ajantis nodded and turned to the man who had brought them there. “Please take me to who currently commands the camp. It is imperative that I speak to him immediately.”
“Uh, yes sire.”
When they had left, Khalid turned to Jaheira, his face was full of guilt. “Jaheira, I’m s-s-sorry.” he said.
“No, no.” Jaheira said. “It is I who am sorry. I should have never left you.”
“N-no.” Khalid shook his head. “I-I, I n-n-need a d-d-drink.”
“...Water?” Jaheira asked, though as soon as she had said it she knew that was not what he had meant.
Khalid shook his head.
“Khalid, you don’t need it.” Jaheira told him. “You have survived this long! Why not stay off it and be done with it?”
Khalid shook his head. “J-Jaheira, I-I n-n-need it. P-p-please.”
Something in Jaheira’s heart died. She gave her husband a small smile and searched the tent. She discovered a small stash of Bitter Black Ale in a small cask. She located a small metal cup and used it as a cup. Khalid quickly downed it and she refilled it. He drank that and another two before he had finally seemed to stabilize.
“Where are Abdel and Imoen?” Jaheira has asked between cups.
“I d-d-don’t know,” Khalid had said. “I-I o-only remember the f-f-fight.”
Jaheira sighed. She wondered where the two had gone. The storm outside intensified so badly that she thought the earth itself rumbled. Minutes later, the tent flap opened. It was Ajantis.
“Jaheira! Come quick!” he called.
Jaheira leapt to her feet and raced out of the tent, ignoring Khalid’s request for another cup. Outside the storm had changed. The storm clouds overhead, which Jaheira had known to be circling the plateau, had picked up speed. Repeated lightning strikes blasted the top of the plateau. In the flashes of light she saw a great, towering giant statue of a bearded man with a staff. A great heaviness fell upon her heart.
“Where is Abdel and Imoen?” she called to Ajantis over the storm.
“They’re in there.” Ajantis said. “And I sense a great evil within that plateau. The mercenaries told me that it is a temple to an ancient god of some sort. They do not know or will not say.”
Then it happened; pieces of the plateau’s front began to fall away. Deep cracks opened in its front facing. The great statue began to fall apart; its head tumbled off its shoulder and slammed down to the ground and exploded.
“No! We have to help them!” Jaheira started forward, but a Ajantis grabbed her by the arm.
“There is nothing we can do.” he said. “Not unless you have it within you to quell the very storm itself.”
Jaheira shook her head. She did not know if any such druid--not even the Grand Druid, had such power. She watched helplessly as the plateau split open and its guts spilled out. Jaheira screamed. The inside of the plateau tumbled outwards and down the slop of the land and only by some miracle did it stop at the foot of the camp. Overhead the storm had blown itself out.
The thick churning clouds had turned to thin and grey and seemed to be retreating with the breeze to the east. Jaheira didn’t wait. She raced up the slope, heedless of any further rockslides or other dangers. They can’t be dead. They can’t be dead. They can’t be.
Jaheira reached the base of the plateau. The entire temple had been destroyed. Jaheira only caught echoes of what had once been the first guard room and above she saw the ruined walls of the inner sanctum. Deep into the plateau she saw a deep pit that seemed to drain all the excess water towards it. She did not go near that pit; she felt a great and terrible darkness gathering there.
Jaheira broke down sobbing. I failed you Gorion. I failed them. I failed. They’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
The sound of scraping metal and rock caused Jaheira to jump. She spun on her heel and pulled her scimitar free, ready to face any danger with as much rage as her grief could channel. There was no enemy. There was no danger. Jaheira scanned the ruins and tried to pinpoint the sound with her ears. The scraping was irregular and slow. She frowned. What could that be?
She located the sound. It came from a wide iron pillar. Jaheira recognized it of having been a part of the staff that the statue had held before the temple collapsed. She could just make out, below some rubble, the outlines of an iron door. Jaheira gasped and ran to the door.
“Abdel? Abdel! Abdel is that you?”
“Jaheira!” came a voice from within. “Jaheira? Is that you?”
“Yes!” Jaheira called back. “Abdel! Where’s Imoen?”
“In here!” Abdel called back. “She’s hurt, but alive! I can’t get out!”
“They’re rocks in the way.” Jaheira called back. “Let me clear them!”
Jaheira set to clearing the door. She pushed away the heavy rocks and rolled the heaviest slowly off and away from the door. Within minutes, she had removed the largest rocks. She backed down the mound of rocks and called Abdel to try again. She heard Abdel grunt and saw the door shudder, then the remaining rocks fell out of the way. Abdel staggered out, cut, bruised, and bloody--but alive.
Jaheira threw herself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re alive!” she cried. “I thought for certain that...well, no. Nevermind. Where’s Imoen?”
“Inside,” he told her.
“Rest here,” Jaheira told him and stepped inside the door. She found Imoen not far, laid gently on the stairs. A large lump on her head; it looked bad and bled a it, but Jaheira did not think it looked too bad. She looked from her to Abdel. Still unable to believe that they had survived the destruction of the temple.
After a few minutes, Abdel said. “We should get back to the camp. Captain Gallor will want to learn what has happened.”
Jaheira knew that he would never hear anything of the sort, but she did not say. Instead she said, “You look terrible. I will carry Imoen.”
Abdel objected, but Jaheira ignored him and gently put the unconscious woman over her shoulder and staggered out. “C’mon, don’t waste time. You both need to be treated.”
Abdel sighed, but followed without further complaint.