A/N: This is a plot idea that took off sometime last year. Updates should be fairly infrequent since unlike my other stories, I don't have 50 chapters pre-written. This story is entirely new and my own. The only reason it's even tied to NWN is because I used it as my main character's background. There will be some new characters in this story, characters that may surprise you.
Disclaimers: With the exception of a few familiar characters, everything bloody thing in this story is my intellectual property.
Chapter One
The tavern was just like any other tavern along the Sword Coast, dirty and dingy, the food an atrocity and the ale watered. It was funny how after a while they all started to blend together, one indistinguishable from the next. There was one major difference on this night in this tavern though. The boisterous laughing of drunken people and the riotous sounds of a fist fight breaking out weren't hovering on the air. Instead all attention was riveted by a small man by the fire pit in the center of the room.
The bard held the attention of all in the taproom. With baited breath the villagers listened as the flamboyant man spun a tale of a band of saviors who appeared during Neverwinter's darkest hour. In the recent past an unlikely group of elves, humans, dwarves and demonkin all had blended together to fight the shadow that threatened the world. The tapestry of the story was wove through the night, a retelling of events that were far enough in the past that they no longer carried the very real thread of fear with them.
Aleaha snorted softly into her tankard as she raised it to her lips for a long swallow, ignoring the barely touched trencher of unrecognizable 'food' in front of her. Ah, she thought to herself, the difference four years makes.
With uncommon talent the bard pulled the different threads of the tale into a picture clearly visible to the minds eye of his audience. He paused at dramatic moments, causing a collective intake of breath in the otherwise silent crowd. The little man in gaudy colors played his audience perfectly. Though the patrons were by no means rich, the take on tonight's performance would let him live comfortably for several weeks.
Disgusted, Aleaha set heavy pewter mug down on the sticky table with a thump, earning a glare from a nearby patron for the disturbance. Cool eyes stared at the irritated ruddy face of the patron, quickly assessing the threat, and just as quickly dismissing it. Unnerved, the farmer turned back to the bard, fighting the urge to rub the back of his neck where the skin prickled in instinctual fear. He may have been drunk, but he wasn't drunk enough to miss the emptiness in the slender woman's eyes.
Unconcerned at the man's discomfort, she took up the dagger that served as an eating utensil and poked at the lumpy mass of the so called stew, looking for something that at least resembled meat. Having found a possible candidate, she raised it delicately to her lips, taking care not to drip the strange brownish-grey sauce over her soft leather armor. The tough meat sat heavy and dry on the tongue, its natural grease and the unnatural gravy doing nothing to improve the texture or taste.
A barmaid, pretty in a stocky farm-bred way, came over to refill her empty tankard. Instead of leaving after the drink was full, she stood transfixed beside her as the story neared an epic point, a battle at the keep and a betrayal from the inside. Hordes of undead were swarming the inner courtyard as Aleaha took a few final sips of the bitter ale and reaching into her slim purse, pulled out a few copper coins. Tossing them on the table casually she turned to leave only to be stopped by the barmaid's whispered question.
"Hey, aren't you going to stay for the end? It's just getting good."
A small humorless smile barely twisted Aleaha's lips. "I already know how this particular story ends," she said softly as she continued out the door, leaving the maid glancing curiously after her before being pulled back into the story.
*****
The night air was cool and the autumn wind had touch of winter's cruel bite in it. A slight figure pulled its hooded cloak more tightly around them as they moved through the shadows quietly, slipping past the drowsy gate guards with nary a sound to alert them to the passing. The high full moon illuminated the road that led from the small village until it reached the woods where even Selune's bright gaze had a hard time penetrating. With eyes accustom to the deep dark of near midnight the figure passed easily through the trees before coming to a stop at a thick cluster of underbrush that looked no different from the cluster that grew just a few feet away.
The figure cocked its head, as if listening before a gloved hand pushed back the heavy hood that obscured the wearers face. Confident that no one was watching, Aleaha crouched down and heedless of the stinging hairs, reached under a group of nettles to pulled out the single bag that was hidden there.
She reached inside, fingers deftly finding a small lump of smooth cool stone. Holding the formless chunk of obsidian up to the cold blue light she examined it thoughtfully. "It's time again Arden. I have need of you," she whispered as she tossed the stone to the ground.
A dense fog rose from where the stone hit the forest floor, flowing around until it converged into a solid form. A huge black warhorse stood where there was once only a small piece of volcanic glass. The horse snorted a greeting as Aleaha rubbed his velvety nose.
"It's good to see you my friend." In response, Arden pushed his heavy head against her chest, nearly knocking her over with the force of his affectionate nudge. Tangling her hands in his mane she swung around and pulled herself up onto his back. "We have a long way to go tonight. I'm to meet Daril at one, so we must run swift." She could feel the horse's excitement at the prospect of a good run. For a moment she felt pang of guilt, it had been to long since she had last called her faithful friend and he had to be itching tear across the landscape.
With barely enough time to tighten her grip Arden took off into the night, his long stride eating up the ground beneath him. A sense of freedom that was becoming more and more rare came over Aleaha as they raced through the night. She lifted her face to the moon, enjoying the biting whip of the cold air as they moved so swiftly it felt as though they flew.
It was all to soon that they reached the edge of a vast estate. Arden slowed to a stop as the heavily guarded gate house came into view. Slipping off his back, she pulled the hood back over to her head and looked for an entrance. "Wait here," she murmured.
Silently she mentally reached out to the deep shadows, pulling them to her and wrapping them around herself like a comfortable blanket. In the blink of an eye she was gone; the only hint that she had even been there in the first place was a calmly grazing warhorse.
*****
"Damn it! Where is she?" Lord Daril Trannyth paced angrily in his dimly lit study, beady eyes narrowed in annoyance. The low fire in the large marble fireplace cast his sharp features into harsh relief. Not for the first time, his assistant made a mental comparison to his Lord's features and those of a skeleton.
"The message said she would be here at one sir."
Lord Trannyth spun to pin his assistant with a steely glare. "I'm well aware of what the note said you fool! It's one o'clock now, so where is she?"
As he spoke, the large clock in the corner rang a single bell. As the chime's resonance faded away a woman's husky voice came from behind the large mahogany desk. "Actually, now it is one o'clock."
Lord Trannyth jumped at the voice and turned to see a pale woman sitting casually in his leather chair, one booted foot propped up on the desk. "You wanted to see me?"
Both men looked her over, taking in the long dark blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders and the grey blue eyes. With her nearly translucent skin and delicate features, she reminded them of a porcelain doll, not a deadly efficient freelancer who's name was only whispered in certain circles.
"You're Shadow?" Trannyth asked skeptically.
"So they say," she answered with a shrug.
"Prove it."
Aleaha smiled coolly and pulled a red leather bound book from a fold in her cloak. Opening it to a random page, she began reading aloud.
"Twenty-fifth of Marpenoth. Lady Trannyth found out about the ruby necklace I purchased for Lisel. That hag demanded I get her matched diamond earrings and coronet before she would leave me in peace. Just a few more weeks and I won't have to worry about that bitch of a wife anymore."
She closed the book over her finger and looked up with feigned interest. "Didn't Lady Trannyth leave to visit an ailing sister two weeks ago? I wonder if anyone has seen her yet."
As Lord Trannyth spluttered red-faced in anger, his assistant merely raised one well groomed eyebrow. "I believe sir, that if she was able to get your journal out of that locked case, she is who she claims to be, or you didn't pay that wizard enough for the wards."
The assistant was awarded a small smile this time, faint, but real. Aleaha set the journal down on the desk and steepled her fingertips together. "Did you want to tell me what it is that you wanted, or shall I continue with a little bit of light reading?"
Face no longer blotchy, Trannyth took a deep breath, visibly trying to recollect the unflappable façade that the nobility were so good at. With a covert glance at his occupied desk chair, he casually walked over to his side bar and poured himself a glass of amber colored liquid. A nod to his assistant had the man leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Once they were alone, Lord Trannyth raised his glass to Aleaha in silent offering.
At her head shake he dashed down the contents before beginning to pace the length of the room. "They told me that if someone needs something… special done, you're the person to talk to."
"Depends on just how special the deed is."
"There is something I want, and you will get it for me."
She cocked a brow at his presumptuous tone. "And what is it you want exactly?"
"A weapon."
"Do I look like a blacksmith to you?"
Eyes narrowed in annoyance, his tone was clipped. "It's a very special weapon. One that's belonged to my family for generations."
"Just what's so special about it?"
"Sentimental value," he ground out from behind clenched teeth. "There's nothing else that would concern you."
"Really Daril," she said dryly. "Why don't you let me worry about what would or would not concern me. Besides, my services don't come cheap." She glanced around at the rich furnishings in the room with an appraising eye. "You could probably afford them, but it's a high price for a simple family heirloom."
"It has very sentimental value."
Aleaha's voice didn't lose any of its businesslike tone, but her eyes grew hard in the light from the fireplace. "Then I'm not interested."
"Excuse me?"
"There's something you're not telling me Daril," she chided. "And even if it is a simple sentimental search and return, then I'm definitely not interested."
Lord Trannyth stared at her. This little mercenary was telling him no? He was incensed by her gall. Handing tightening dangerously around his empty glass, he reappraised the situation. The past four men he had sent to recover the weapon had all disappeared. This little chit was supposedly the best and time was running short.
In the ensuing silence Aleaha waited calmly, gazing at the agitated man steadily. "There's a curse," he said finally. "Until it is returned to family vault, in every generation, all the males of this family will die before their time."
He raised beseeching eyes to hers, silently begging for help. Tapping a fingertip against her lips she considered him thoughtfully. "Alright," she said at last. "Tell me what I need to know and I'll find it."
*****
Arden never even glanced up as the shadows around him grew darker and shimmered slightly. Unconcerned with anything other than the amount of sweet green grass he could consume before it was time to leave, he didn't move as Aleaha stepped out of the shimmering shadows. A light touch to his neck commanded his attention at once though. Sweet grass forgotten, he craned to nibble gently on her hair.
"He's lying," Aleaha said with dead certainty. She grinned suddenly, an uncommon occurrence in the recent years. "This should be interesting."