Laisha Lapari , Wild Mage of Candlekeep
Candlekeep
An imposingly tall building stands towering over a rainy city far, far from the library of Candlekeep. Lightning flashes in the sky. Someone crawls through a door - a man, clad in mismatched armour - out onto a rooftop...it crashes open behind him. He's being stalked. A huge, armoured demonic figure, immensely strong strides through, implacable, unstoppable. "I will be the last,"it growls as it crushes the poor soul's windpipe. "And you will go first!"
And the young half-elf maiden Laisha Lapari wakes with a scream, a thousand leagues to the south, as the man's body is hurled from the rooftops to land broken on the cobblestones below, his lifeblood draining away to the city sewers.
From the end of her bed a white shape uncurled itself, yellow eyes glowing malevolently at the shaking girl as it padded up the bed to her head.
"What is it now, woman? Your screams are quite enough to wake the dead! My napping is suffering from your constant twitching and moaning in the night."
Pantalaimon, her feline familiar, twitched his tail irritably, then, his action belying his harsh words, started to lick the girl's face.
"I'm sorry, Pan," Laisha apologised, her fear and tension melting away at the soothing touch of the cat's tongue. "It's ridiculous. I'm 20 years old, and still having nightmares."
Pan blinked his yellow eyes, then moved the attentions of his tongue from his wizard's face to his impeccably clean paws.
"Is it your magics again?" he quizzed her. "How many times can you blame yourself for squirrelizing that dreadful boy? He fully deserved it, as you well know. Plus, he was very much fun to pursue around the grounds." Pan's eyes gleamed wickedly, and Laisha couldn't quite stifle a giggle from the memory of her wild magicks going astray once more, this time on a bratty apprentice to a visiting wizard.
"No, it wasn't that, it was those...other dreams. The feeling that's there's something dark, something monstrous coming..."
Pan rolled his eyes. "You bipeds. Always finding catastrophe in every flap of a butterfly's wings." His cleaning ritual seemingly completed, he curled back up near Laisha and closed his eyes, a cocked ear her only clue that he was still paying attention.
"Imoen thinks it could be related to my wild magic," Laisha offered tentatively, as her cat sniffed.
"She's a human. She thinks the sun coming up each morning is due to magic."
"Oh, must you be so grumpy, fuzzball?" Laisha laughed, scruffing up the cat and rolling him onto his back to scratch at his belly.
Pan flexed his claws and bared his teeth mock ferociously, but his purring belied his displeasure.
"And what of Gorion?" he asked, stretching out to his full length, "have you talked to your father lately about your nightmares?"
Laisha scowled .
"Gorion has had precious little to say about anything to me lately. Dark glances and hurried brush-offs are all I seem to get from him these these days. Perhaps I'm finally growing up too fast for him, despite all his best efforts."
Pan's nose twitched.
"He certainly wasn't overjoyed at your fraternising with that group of Sharessan clerics who came the other month to pore over the Scrolls of Xee, was he?"
The cat's lips stretched into a toothy grin.
"And whose fault was that, Pan? You're the one who insisted we go and talk to them, remember?"
"I thought you should feel the embrace of the Feline Huntress, since you were given the chance," the cat yawned. "She seemed to suit your...nature, as close to cat-like as an imperfect being such as youself can get. Why else would I have come to your childish call."
Laisha smiled. That was high praise indeed coming from her haughty cat familiar. Her memories of the nightmares subsiding, she thought she should get moving soon. Gorion would undoubtedly send an invisible messenger in to toss her out of bed if she didn't...Or Winthrop would start bellowing for her to help clean his inn...Or even worse, they'd set Imoen onto her with a dozen of her little pranks!
After coaxing Pantalaimon out of bed with the promise of breakfast, Laisha wandered down and out into the grounds of the Candlekeep library where she had been raised for the last 20 years. The Citadel of Candlekeep housed the finest and most comprehensive collection of writings on the face of Faerun, and the imposing fortress was kept in strict isolation from the intrigues that plagued the rest of the Forgotten Realms. Nestled atop the cliffs that rose from the Sword Coast, the former home of Alaundo the Seer was secluded and highly regimented, and to Laisha, it was the only home she'd ever known. The sage Gorion had taken her under his wing, despite her being an orphan, entertaining and tutoring her in equal measure with a thousand tales of lore involving heroes and mosters, lovers and infidels, battles and tragedies. Her own past, however, was left largely untold. All she knew of her mother was that she had been a half-elvish maiden from the great city of Silverymoon, and a friend of Gorion's. Of her father, she knew nothing at all.
Inspired by Gorion's vast knowledge of the magical arts, Laisha had made especially productive use of the library. She had pored over the treasures of magical lore housed within its walls. Gorion had instructed her in the basics, and was impressed by her raw ability, but was concerned by some of the side effects that manifested itself from time to time. Despite her happiness with her simple life in Candlekeep, some part of the young half-elf longed to test her powers beyond the guarded walls of the library, and Gorion himself had told her he would soon take her on a journey, something her adventurous spirit looked very much forward to. Laisha yawned as Pan looked up inquisitively.
"So what monotonous drudgery do the monks have you doing today?" the cat asked idly, his slitted eyes watching a fluttering insect nearby.
"This morn I am to meet Jondalar for staff training. You know he wants me to keep up my quarterstaff techniques once a tenday. He insists that magic skill by itself is not enough to defend myself. Even after that time where I accidently turned his staff into a serpent." she grinned ruefully.
Pan sniffed and shook his head, simply muttering "humans" as if it was a curse.
"Yoo-hoo!"
The young mageling's musings with her familiar were interrupted by a call across the yard. Laisha peered over and smiled. Phlydia was back in Candlekeep. She was another mage who was a regular visitor, but one with a terribly bad memory. Ulraunt, the keeper of the tomes had more than once threatened not to readmit her due to her unfortunate habit of leaving books and scrolls lying in various places around the grounds where she liked to curl up secluded to study.
"Good to see you again, Phlydia. How goes the studies?" Laisha beamed.
"Oh hello young Laisha! I'm trying to muddle my way through the magical history tomes currently," the elder woman sighed. "You haven't by any chance seen my copy of "History of Halruua" anywhere? You know how I can't stand the constant shuffling of arthritic feet up in the library...So I thought I'd get a little fresh air and...Oh I hate being so absent-minded! Please, if you find it, I really do need it back before Ulraunt finds out and starts yelling at me again!
"Of course, Phlydia. I have to go and let Jondalar beat me around the head and shoulders with a large stick on the training grounds first, but I will keep my eyes open." Laisha promised.
On her way to the training area she passed the stables where the farmhand Dreppin was whistling cheerfully.
"Nice day, ain't it, Miss." he called, nodding his head to the half-elf. "If you get a moment, Miss Phlydia left one of her books over there in the hay. If you could run it over to her, I'm sure she'd be much obliged...before the Keeper makes his daily rounds" he winked.
Laisha laughed and rescued the book from the pile of hay, brushing off stray bits of straw from the cover.
"How's Nessa doing today?" she asked, looking over at Dreppin's favourite bovine.
The farmhand sighed.
"Not the best, Laisha, she's not enjoyin' the day, her bein' sick an' all. She's the worst I've seen her since she...dropped in on us."
Laisha grinned. Nessa had been a very unexpected side effect of a wild surge when she had been attempting to cast a sleep spell so she and Imoen could sneak past the guards after curfew. Instead of setting the Watchers snoring, a surprised cow had come falling from the sky, luckily landing on a large pile of hay, much to the shock of everyone, and the cow herself. Dreppin had quickly taken to the bovine, naming her Nessa, and Laisha still had a soft spot for the beast, feeling a sense of pride and creation in her appearance.
"I think Hull has a stash of potions to cure his hangovers. I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow one" the half-elf grinned.
Dreppin snorted.
"That Hull stayed up drinkin' last night and got hauled outta bed to man th' gates early this morning. I don' think he'll be in the mood t' give ya anythin'!"
Oh, don't you worry about Hull. Just leave him to me." Laisha winked confidently. I'll have a word to him after Jondalar's through with me."
She trotted off then, Pan at her heels, and saw Jondalar waiting at the training grounds.
"Hey there, Laisha! I hope you brought your staff!"
Laisha rolled her eyes, brandishing the 6' length of stout oak. "What does this look like, a wand?"
"With your wonky magics, I wouldn't be at all surprised. Now come at me!"the weapons master laughed, seeing the scowl darken the girl's face, and the two began to spar.
Jondalar grinned as he thrusted and parried, pleased with the imporvements the spirited girl had made over their sessions. She could barely lift the staff at first, now he saw she wielded it with some skill and technique, and her speed and agility made her a constantly moving target.
"I'm going to test you now, girl. Are you ready?"
"I'm always ready for you, Jon." the girl puffed.
Jondalar grinned, and made a quick gesture with his hand. From behind the sparring pair, a bowman stepped out from the bushes, aimed, and fired a blunted arrow straight at the young mage's back.
Jon watched in astonishment as, without even turning, Laisha muttered a few words and waved a hand negligently, sending the buzzing arrow harmlessly off into the wall of the storehouse. Without pausing, she sent her quarterstaff low, smacking Jondalar's leg, then crowed triumphantly.
"Told you I was ready, didn't I?"
"You did good, kid," Jondalar agreed, rubbing his reddened shin, "especially after Erik started firing those arrows at ya. I'm sure your father would be proud."
"So can I go now?" Laisha asked with a smile. Has the weakling mage proved herself enough to the mighty warrior?"
She laughed and danced nimbly out of reach of the cuff that was aimed for her head.
"I have things to do!" she called back as she scarpered off. "Things to do with books, and study. Meatheads like you wouldn't understand!"
She saw Phlydia wandering aimlessly near the keep gates and called out to her, waving the missing tome in her hand.
"My book! Oh, you remind me of Gorion when you grin like that!Raising you has been hard on him, I know, but he says it's a toil of love, of destiny, even. You must be a very special child indeed to draw such praise from a man of his silent nature...Here, take this little gem of mine. Maybe Winthrop will give you a little something for it."
Laisha accepted the Lynx Eye gem with a smile and a nod of thanks, then took her leave, spying Hull manning the gates, looking all manner of disgruntled. She sidled up to him with a sly smile.
"Hiya Hull. How's it hanging?"
The burly man flushed, and Laisha laughed.
"Hey kid." the gate guard sighed. I woke late this morning and left my sword in the barracks before going on duty. If you want to get it for me, it's in the chest at the foot of my bed."
Laisha smiled winsomely.
"Of course, Hull. I'm always eager to get my hands on your sword, you know that."
The guard flushed deeper, and she beamed. Her tenday spent with the Sharessans had proven most interesting, and Laisha had discovered the side of her that urged her to seek out pleasure in all its forms. The taciturn guard had been the unsuspecting recipient of her desires, and since then the half-elf loved nothing more than to tease him, seeing a hitherto unsuspected soft side hidden beneath his gruff and plain exterior.
"Well allright, be off. Quick now, before the Gatewarden catches me without it!"
"I'll be right back," Laisha grinned "Don't miss me too much!"
She threw open the door of the barracks with a respounding bang, and called out cheerfully,
"Goooooooood Morning, gentlemen!"
The only response she got was a long, drawn out moan from the darkened room. Her low level infravision kicked in, and she spied a guard she knew well, Fuller, curled up in his bed, cradling his head.
"Ugh, what a mead filled night," Fuller moaned as he sat up, squinting at Laisha,"that Hull is just too much. Poor sap had to go man the gate this morning too. I don't know how he does it. What can I do for you, anyways?"
"Hull left his sword in here, when you rushed him off to man the gate. I thought I'd be nice and fetch it for him."
"Well aren't you just a little saint, then?" Fuller groaned. "His bed's off on the right ha..."
"Oh I know very well where Hull's bed is," Laisha grinned, drawing a muffled snort from the guard.
She drew out the heavy sword from the chest at the end of his bed, and snaffled a potion for Nessa as well. On her way out, Fuller spoke out from under his blanket.
"Since you're being so damn helpful, little girl, howsabout nicking up to Winthrop at the Inn and buying a quarrel of crossbow bolts for me. I'll reimburse you...Oh very well, there'll be a few coins in it for you, too, so you can stop giving me that look."
Smirking to herself, Laisha banged the door shut behind her, grinning at Fuller's anguished cry from inside. She headed back to the cattle pens and tossed Dreppin the antidote she'd found in Hull's chest.
"Heh. Yer a wonder, you are. Stick with me and we'll go far," Dreppin beamed happily as he poured the thick, viscous liquid down Nessa's throat. "Well, okay, stick with me and we'd prob'ly never leave the walls of Candlekeep, would we."
He looked at the young half-elf critically, garbed as she was in her robes.
"Hmm, good thing you ain't wearin' none of that metal armour though, as I hear that the bandits out there would just as soon kill ya as look at ya to get it off your back. I just hope this whole iron crisis business is wrapped up soon."
Laisha yawned. Every visitor these days seemed to have something to say about this so called "crisis" that had struck the Sword Coast, but her life was magic and books, not metal and mining, so she had paid very little attention to anything that was said, finding it all rather dreary. As Dreppin threatened to keep ruminating on his half formed ideas about the iron, she made her excuses and headed back to Hull. On the way, she was accosted by the small, tough dwarven storemaster Reevor who stopped her in her tracks with one muscled hand.
"Oy, Missy! I thought I asked you to clean the rats out of my storeroom yesterday, already. Hop to it! Get in there!" He gave her a whack with the flat of his axe and she yelped, muttering curses under her breath.
"Pan! I thought you were going to take care of those rats for me! What happened?" she quizzed her familiar who met her stare with a blank look.
"Oh yes. That. I ventured in, but one of the other cats was in a...friendly mood. I put my own priorities first." the cat sniffed with an air of self satisfaction.
Laisha tried to hide her smile.
"Pan!"
"What?" her cat retorted. "I seem to remember you taking a similar line with your entertainments when the mood strikes you."
Laisha flushed guiltily, and urged her cat into the store.
"Come on, make yourself useful and get some breakfast!"
She smiled as she watched her predatory cat go to work, terrorizing the mice running rampart through the stores, until the last futile squeak had being uttered.
Up in the loft, she heard a rustling, and Pan turned, back arched, fur raised and hissed.
"That's one big rat left up there!" Laisha called out, and heard a girlish laugh in replay.
"Heya! It's just me, Imoen! Don't set me on fire or set that darn magic cat onto me!" the young girl called out, and swung down to land soundlessly in front of the mage.
"What are you doing hiding away up there, Im?" Laisha laughed as she hugged the girl she'd grown up with.
"Counting my pretties!" the young thief grinned, opening her palm to show a silver necklace and ring.
"That Calishite wizard's stupid apprentice left them in a drawer that barely even needed its lock picked so I figured he didn't want them anymore. Howsabout you go flog them to Puffguts and we split the profit? He doesn't trust me anymore when I tell them they're my pretties!" she giggled.
"I'm surprised that stuffy old Gorion let you away from your studies and chores. Old Puffguts Winthrop was looking for me , but I've got all day to do his chores. You have time for a story today? No, I can tell you don't. What have ya been up to?
Laisha laughed and shook her head at her incorrigible friend and her rapid fire questions. Imoen had arrived at Candlekeep shortly after she had, by all accounts, another orphan that the monks had taken in, and being the only two young girls having permanent residence, had quickly become fast friends.
"Alright, I'll be your fence. I have to get Fuller a quarrel of bolts anyway. "
Imoen pulled a face.
"Don't know why you talk to those watchers, they're such bores! They never let me have any fun!"
"Oh Fuller's alright once you get to know him. And Hull lets me have plenty of fun, little one!" she winked, and the two girls broke into giggles.
"Little one? I'm not much younger than you, though you sure got tall fast, relatively speaking anyway. So I hear Gorion's taking you on a journey soon, eh? I never get to travel. Wish I could go with ya. Yep, I really wish I could. Yessir. Really do."
"Allright, allright, I get the message. I'll ask if you can go with us." Laisha smiled.
"Oh don't be silly, Gorion would never even let you finish the sentence. Especially after what that letter of his said...er...did I say that? No, of course I didn't. Never saw no letter. Nope. I'll just get back to work now."
"Imoen! You get back here! What letter? What letter!"
Laisha made a grab for her friend, but the nimble thief slid out of her grasp and out of the door. Grumbling, Laisha followed, but the tricksy girl was nowhere in sight. Instead, Reevor stood at the door, peering in at Pan's handiwork.
"Ah yes, kill them like the rats they are! A glorious battle unlike any the world has ever seen...Here's 5 gold pieces, don't spend it all in one place."
Laisha snatched the coins the dwarf tossed at her and poked her tongue out as he waddled away. She smiled as Hull stood watching her, and shaking his head.
"Will you ever grow up girl?" he sighed. Laisha arched a brow and handed back his sword.
"I was plenty grown up enough for you the other night, Hull" she reminded the guard. "and last week...and the week before that..."
Hull flushed.
"Sorry kiddo...and thanks. Gorion didn't bring you up half bad, did he? You're lucky to have grown up here in Candlekeep to be honest. Sometimes I think that the world outside these gates has gone mad, what with all this fighting over iron shortages and all. Amn and Baldur's Gate will be at war before the season's out, mark my words. ..Anyhow, I'm on duty. Here's 20 gold for saving my skin from the Chief..." He paused, sliding his sword into the scabbard, then smiled shyly.
"I...I get off duty at highsun...if...if you're not busy, that is..."
Laisha grinned. "I have some spell scrolls to scribe in, but I should be done by highsun or around then...I know the bunkhouse is empty at that time, I'll meet you there," she winked, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, "behave yourself 'til then!"
Whistling, she headed up to the Candlekeep Inn and Store. As she entered, the door swung back the other way and one of the priests of Oghma bumped into her absently.
"Oh! You should look where you're going, elf maiden. Or are you sick? You look healthy to me, but you never can tell. Do you need any potions or such things?"
Laisha shrugged, never one to turn down an offer.
"Well, yes, that would be nice of you."
"All right then, take this potion.". The distracted Oghman thrust a potion of healing into her hands, then paused, giving the girl a curious look.
"You know, I was in one of the great spires of the keep last night, and saw the strangest sight. The horizon was aglow for a time, as though many a man carried torches in the distance. Usually there are only merchants on that path, though never at night. Bandits perhaps, but so many?"
Laisha could do naught but shrug her shoulders at the puzzled priest as he pondered over the mystery, then hurried off back to the temple in the grounds.
The large man behind the bar in the Inn greeted her.
"Well hello there young one. Come to visit your old pal Winthrop, have ye? Well, don't forget the 5000 gold piece book entrance fee, as per Candlekeep custom, doncha know."
Laisha rolled her eyes at the jocular fat man.
"You always were the big kidder, Winthrop. That gets funnier very nearly every time I hear it. Well perhaps not quite so often."
"Haw! Just havin' a bit of fun with ye, my friend." Winthrop guffawed. "Those monks may be walking about with poles in their nethers, but you know you are always welcome here in my sight. Gorion did well by you, he did. So, is there anything I can do for ya? Some drinks? A room? Anything to buy?
"Yes, actually...i need a quarrel of crossbow bolts please," Laisha asked.
"Oh by the Gods, you're not taking up the crossbow are you?" Winthrop shuddered.
"No," Laisha frowned, insulted "...they're for Fuller. But I WILL take a sling and some stones...and you better watch your windows, since you've taken that attitude!"
Ha! I'll be watchin' you CLEAN my windows, young missy, you and that little thieving friend of yours!" Winthrop huffed.
Laisha handed over the necklace and ring she'd got from Imoen and the gem from Phlydia with a grin in payment as she pocketed the sling and bullets. Sitting at one of the Inn's tables, happily breakfasting was an old mage she recognized from his many visits. He saw her staring and motioned the young mageling to approach.
"Mr Elvenhair, it's our pleasure to see you again." she greeted him, a rare note of respect in her voice.
"Ah yes, I'm back within the hallowed walls of Candlekeep. With this iron crisis upon us, the trip from Beregost was more hazardous than I care to relate."
He peered at her closer while he drank down a tankard of ale. "You're Gorion's ward, aren't you? My, you have come into your own, if you would permit an old man jealous of youth to say so. And call me Firebeard, child. We are all brothers and sisters, those who delve deep into the Weave to cast our magics, are we not? I can sense the traces of magic deep within your soul, even if it is a little...wild" he smiled impishly as Laisha squirmed under his penetrating gaze.
"Hmmm, I left a spell scroll with Tethtoril, in the inner grounds. He should be done examining it by now, so if you could fetch it for me, I'd be grateful. "
Laisha nodded her assent, a little tonguetied in the presence of the powerful mage, and not trusting herself to speak for fear of seeming foolish in front of him. At her feet, Pan gazed up at her with implacable eyes. Once they had exited the inn, he spoke up.
"He's not that special, you know. Just another biped. You could far outstrip him in power if you wanted to. With my help, of course."
"PAN! Be quiet! He'll turn you into a toadstool or something...or even worse, a dog!"
The fussy cat shuddered at that thought, contented himself with a short hiss at the half elf and padded along behind her in silence as the voices of the Chanters recited the seer Alaundo's prophecies in full and constant voice.
"The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sewn from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo." They droned on, one of the many chants Laisha had heard day in, day out for as far back as she could remember.
She searched the inner grounds, until she spied the familiar form of the revered First Reader of Candlekeep, his head cocked as he listened to the Chanters.
Despite her quiet approach, Tethtoril turned around, smiling serenely and yet somehow sadly at his young student.
"Ah, Miss Laisha Lapari herself. Firebeard has sent you to me, hasn't he? Very well, return this scroll to him, child."
He gave her a rolled up sheet of parchment and took his leave.
Pan sniffed it inquisitively.
"Hmmm smells interesting. Definitely magical. You should take a look."
Laisha smiled, half-shocked but intrigued.
"Pan! I shouldn't! I should take it straight back to Firebeard."
The cat yawned.
"You should, yes. But, more interestingly, you could take it up to your study and peruse it. You have other scrolls to scribe, it won't hurt to take a look at this one. You might even learn something for a change."
With that, her familiar jumped up the little stone just that served as his makeshift ladder and disappeared up the side of the Library, vanishing into the open window that led into his and Laisha's sleeping quarters. The half elf headed up the steps and into the library, dodging the various monks, scribes and scholars clustered around muttering into their dusty tombs. Settled at her desk, she watched Pantalaimon stretch himself out on the windowsill to bask in the sun as she pulled several scrolls sealed with wax out of a satchel. Pulling out her spellbook she cast her Read Magic spell and set about transcribing the simple spells Gorion had assigned to her as part of her daily studies.
The time was approaching highsun by the time she wiped her brow and sighed in satisfaction, gazing at her spellbook, which now held a total of 5 spells. An infravision spell was the latest she had learned...not particularly useful in her case, seeing as her tinge of elven blood gifted her that innate ability anyway, but she had learned a lot in the process of transcribing the spell that would serve her well in the future, lessening the time taken for scribing other spells. The second spell had been very useful to her, a long lasting armor spell that would invisibly protect her as if she was wearing scale mail.
She paused, her gaze drawn to the third scroll, the one Tethtoril had bid her return to Elvenhair.
"Just a quick look," she told herself as she guiltily broke the wax seal and unfurled it, her excitement mounting as she recognized the glyphs denoting an Identify spell, a common enough spell, and one that was particularly useful here in the Library, but was entusted only to higher level mages, to prevent eager students from toying with potentially powerful items that were beyond their capabilities to control.
Pan blinked at her and yawned as Laisha concentrated hard, then, without really conscious of her actions, quickly transcribed it along with the others to her spellbook. Only after she had completed the process did she note with dismay that the parchment was now empty, the process of scribing transferring the magical text to her spellbook, leaving the scroll as if it were untouched. Biting her lip, the mageling tried to recopy the words back to the vellum but the magic held fast, preventing any new words from appearing. With a guilty shrug, she stashed the blank paper in a drawer.
"I guess I'll just have to avoid old Elvenhair until he forgets or leaves!" she told Pan. "It's not like he can't lay his hands on half a dozen of those if he chose to!"
She slammed her spellbook shut, and shook her head.
"I need some air, it's so stuffy in here. I really should take those crossbow bolts back to Fuller. Come on, kitty."
Pan's ears flattened and he gave her an unfriendly stare, deliberately taking his time in following Laisha back out into the grounds.
Fuller was at last up and out of bed, which was an improvement on the last time she had seen him. He was, however, slumped over his desk, snoring loudly. Laisha grinned, and tossed the bolts down onto the desk right beside his head with a loud clatter that sent the hapless Watcher up out of his chair, looking around wildeyed and spluttering,
"Who? Wha? Huh?...oh...it's you." Fuller cleared his throat and calmed himself with a sheepish smile at the amused look on the half-elf's face.
"Thanks. kid. I hear tell you might be leaving this place soon. Watch your back out there, okay?" He fumbled at a scabbard on his belt and withdrew a sharp looking dagger that seemed to glow with a tint of magic.
"Here, let me give you this dagger. My father killed a hobgoblin with it once, many years ago. Stabbed him right in the back, he did. It ain't no broadsword, but it'll do in a pinch."
He blushed crimson as the delighted Laisha leaned over and kissed his cheek, then impulisvely embraced him.
"Thank you, Fuller. That's very thoughtful of you, I'm touched! I don't know when Gorion will whisk me away, but i'll definitely take this with me when I go!"
Looking up at the sun, realizing it was around highsun, Laisha decided it was time for some relaxation, and headed for the bunkhouse, smiling at the hope that Hull may be off duty and would be waiting there to entertain her. As she neared the door, Pan sniffed and hissed suddenly.
"Something smells not right in there, Laisha. Don't open that door!"
"Don't be silly, Pan" she replied as she walked in. A figure turned, and her welcoming smile for Hull faded as a stranger stared at her.
"Ere there. You're Gorion's little whelp, aren't ya? Yeah, you match the description. You don't look so dangerous to me."
Startled, then indignent, Laisha drew herself up to her still underwhelming full height and huffed.
"And what business is that of yours? I could be extremely dangerous for all you know!"
"Ha!" the wretch laughed mirthlessly, "I'll make it my business if'n I please. Just thought I'd have me a look at you for m'self, before I puts a blade down yer gullet! Someone seems to think yer trouble, so I'm gonna use your head for a ticket out o' the gutter. I'm just a little street trash hood they say, but I'll show 'em!"
Stunned, Laisha watched dumbly as the man lunged at her with a crude knife, slashing her on the forehead. She cried out, more in shock than pain, an anger burning fiercely in her eyes. The long months of staff training with Jondalar kicked in, and in an instant, the long staff was in her hands, twirling as she stepped forward menacingly as the dirty man grinned and thrust again. The metal bar on the end caught the would-be assassin squarely on the temple and the surprise only just had time to register in his eyes before he crumpled straight to the floor in a twitching heap.
The move she and Jondalar had practiced many times had been executed perfectly, but this time the staff was not havily padded with swaddling cloth, this time her opponent had not being wearing a thick pot helmet, this time he did not get straight back up with a cheerful grin and words of praise.
Laisha knelt down, frantically feeling for a pulse to no avail, as Pan stalked around the corpse, hissing wildly and clawing at his mistresses' assailant's slack-jawed face.
The door opened behind her and she whirled about, seeing the concerned face of one of her tutors, Karan, peering in.
"I heard shouting, LaishaI Are you alright?"
The elderly man's eyes widened as he spotted the dead man on the floor.
"He...he's dead, whoever he was," Laisha sputtered, an unreasoning panic bubbling in her chest. "I didn't mean to! He lunged at me, with a knife. Oh Karan, what is happening to this place?"
The wizened sage sighed, regret piercing his pale blue eyes.
"It's not this place, child. It's you they're after. Oh Laisha, I have been your tutor for so many years, and only in this moment have I come to doubt that my teachings have been enough. Go now, child, go to Gorion. It is safe for you here no longer."
"B..but Gorion. He will be so mad...oh but where would he be?"
"I last saw him conversing with the priests in their quarters, child. He may still be there. I pray you, go to him. He will keep you safe."
Laisha fled, Pan bristling in her arms, hurtling past astonished Watchers and monks as she headed to the Priests Quarters. Outside the door, Pan leapt down, sniffed and hissed violently, the fur on his back arched higher than Laisha had ever seen it.
"Another unfamiliar smell in here, Laisha. Best you heed my words this time, and enter prepared. Strike him down! Kill the wretch!"
Pushing open the door, staff quivering in her shaking hands, Laisha confronted another stranger bathed in the unwashed odor of city streets.
"Oh goodie goodie!" the man cackled as she spotted the young half-elf. "I've gone and found ye first! You are the ward of Gorion no doubt?"
Pan darted down and around the man's legs, howling and hissing as Laisha measured her latest possible opponent.
"I do not recognise you," she replied cooly. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"Who I am is unimportant, but who YOU are is very much so," the man leered. "I apologize for this dirty bit of business, but I must seek your death. A pity, I know, but it would seem your head is worth an exceptional amount to me. I kill you myself and I need not share credit with anyone."
Assured now that this man too meant to kill her, Laisha clutched her staff tight, and started muttering an incantation under her breath. Pan lashed out with his razor sharp claws, shredding the man's ankle and nimbly skipped away as the man yelped and aimed a vicious kick at the cat.
"I'll crush your face, I will. Make you dead and done!"
He yelled out as Laisha's spell took effect, covering him in a swirl of constantly changing colours. He paused, then seeing the frown on the girl's face, smiled triumphantly as he felt no other ill effects.
"Parlor tricks by a silly little girl. Silly little dead girl!"
But he had underestimated the mage. The wild surge had given her all the time she needed, and she took full advantage of his momentary hesitation to lash out with her staff, winding him as she struck him square in the ribs, then jabbing again hard, aiming for his heart. The man stared wide eyed at her as he clutched at his chest, the jolt causing his heart to stop, just as was designed, and he, too, fell to the floor with a loud clunk.
Pan hissed wildly as he rejoined Laisha.
"Vile human trash at every turn, all baying for your blood. We shall slay them all!" he meowed viciously.
Trying to stead herself, Laisha backed out of the preists quarters, and straight into another of her tutors as the door swung closed.
Parda steadied her gently, then looked deeply into her eyes.
"You cut yourself above the brow there, girl." he said as she wiped the sweat and blood from her eyes, fingering the cut the first man had given her.
"What is wrong, child?" he asked. " Something in your eyes tells me something is very wrong indeed."
"It's...it's nothing, Parda. Pan had a fight with one of the other cats, and I had to seperate them. I'm all right, really."
Parda gave the mage's familiar a searching look, seeing his wild behaviour and aggressive manner.
"Hmmm well all right. I think Gorion was looking for you, over at the library. You best not keep him waiting."
Laisha nodded her mute assent and bolted for the library, seeing her foster father standing on the library steps.
"Gorion! " she called urgently, "I..."
"This is very unnerving, I know" he interrupted, quietly but insistently. "But you must trust me. There is no time to tarry. The keep is well protected, but not invulnerable. Go to your room now, collect your spellbook and belongings. Tonight we must travel. Stay in your room until I collect you. This is no time for you to be out in the open."
It was evening by the time Laisha and Pan re-emerged from her room, both sets of eyes darting around nervously as they accompanied Gorion down to the front gate.
"Listen carefully," her foster father urged her, "If we ever become seperated it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There you will meet Khalid and Jaheira. They have long being my friends and you can trust them."
Her mind in a whirl, Gorion's words barely registered. The thought of finally venturing beyond the walls of Candlekeep, for so long a dream of unbridled adventure was suddenly now a frightening necessity, fleeing her childhood home a criminal, two deaths to her name.
Gorion dragged her through the woods east of Candlekeep, as the wind picked up strength and the rain began to fall, avoiding the well trodden path in an attempt to avoid detection.
"Hurry child. The night can only get worse and we must find shelter soon..."
Seeing the worried look on her face, Gorion laid an arm over her shoulders.
"Don't worry, Laisha. I will explain everything as soon as there is time."
They entered a clearing in the woods. Gorion paused, his eyes narrowed, placing a warning hand to stop the young half-elf from moving forward.
"Wait! There is something wrong. We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself."
A small group stepped into the clearing then, from the other side. Two huge brutish ogres and a pair of archers smirked malevolently as their leader, an imposing armored figure, strode towards Gorion and his ward. In the background, a svelte figure in chain mail began to chant and pray – a cleric! Laisha realised, alarmed.
"You're perceptive for an old man." the figure in armor rumbled. "You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist, it shall be a waste of your life."
Laisha reeled in disbelief. The figure was the same one from her dreams. Her nightmares. A man clad all in iron. A man with demonic eyes. Countless throats she had seen him crush, all over Faerun, his mocking laughter had echoed in her ears too many mornings to remember.
"You're a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence." the elder mage responded calmly. "Step aside, and you and your lackeys will be unhurt."
The figure chortled.
"I'm sorry that you feel that way, old man." His eyes glowered from beneath his helmet.
"Run child, get out of here!" Gorion barked as the female archer loosed a spiteful arrow that grazed her arm.
The fear struck her then, and she ran, ran like a fool, like a frightened fox chased by baying hounds. The sounds of an epic battle of magic and sword echoed throughout the woods behind her as she ran through the night, smacking into tree after tree, finally hiding in a hole 'til the darkness was finally vanquished by the light.