As the army continued North, Captain Schael Corwin and her aide, Corporal Bence Duncan, maintained order in the caravan from Baldur's Gate. Some who joined the expedition were unaccustomed to Flaming Fist discipline. Hard lessons were learned in the early days of the march.
Rap tap tap tap. Rap tap tap tap.
"Oh, fuck me," moaned Freya. "Come on Corwin, can't you just tell the band to give it a rest? My hearing might be ten times sharper than yours but even you must be finding this annoying."
"You'd be finding it less annoying if you weren't hungover," scolded Corwin. She and Safana were riding either side of Freya on horseback, but the werewolf went on foot. War and city horses were usually conditioned to tolerate dogs, but they'd get a little edgy if they smelled a canine trying to mount them. "And that is why you get to march with the band today."
"Fuck me," Freya groaned again.
"I'll fuck you," leered one of the drummers. Freya turned her bleary, aching head to look at those blasted rap-tap-tapping drumsticks.
"You're fucking with me already," she said. "Trust me."
The journey was slowed by the blistering heat and the seemingly endless flow of victims fleeing the crusade. A multitude of broken, haunted men and women clogged the coast way. When asked, their stories were much the same as the refugees in the city. Granaries ransacked, homes set aflame and family members conscripted into the crusade. Arrow, who had nothing left to give them and no aid to offer, could only offer her condolences and move on.
Yet there was a strange recurring theme. Many of the displaced people seemed to feel that their suffering was in aid of a greater good. There seemed to be a strange acceptance, and even admiration of Caelar. Some even tried to persuade the expedition to turn back, declaring that Caelar was a sort of prophet, doing the work of not one but all faiths, all gods.
"What say you to this notion?" Edwin asked Viconia mockingly. "Does she offend your beliefs or does the notion of a 'servant of all gods' appeal to your primitive superstitions?"
"Love of my life," sneered Viconia, silkily, "I am thirsty and have used up all of my water ration. Give me yours."
"Yes, give the matron serpent water Odesseiron. Drown her in it," the Red Wizard muttered as he pulled out his water skin and handed it to her. She took a great swig, sloshed it around her mouth and spat it pointedly onto the ground. He narrowed his eyes at her. She had not even wanted a drink, only to show him who held the whip now. As she refastened the stopper she took care to spill a large quantity of his remaining water on the ground, just to make a point.
For all the threats he made under his breath, the drow had won. He was basically her man-servant now. He wished, fervently, that he had thought of a better excuse for his presence in the camp than his love for her. Now she had him carrying her pack, massaging her feet and running little errands for her. He even slept in her tent with her, to keep up the pretence that they were still lovers. There she continued to punish him, flicking his ears while he tried to memorize spells and dribbling cold water down the back of his neck when he least expected it. Once she even dropped a spider into the Thayan's mouth while he slept.
It was another warm day, though not so unpleasantly scorching as the first. The further they got from the city, the more far apart the farms became and the trees grew denser. For Arrow it was not quite the same as roaming the woods on her own. The clanging of armour and thudding of hundreds of pairs of feet had driven away most of the wildlife. The birdsong might have been pleasant, had the ranger not recognized their calls as distress at so many giant interlopers crashing through their territory. Still it was better than being in the city, and she began to find that she was rather enjoying herself. It was around mid-afternoon when she spotted a familiar face and broke off from Minsc and Dynaheir.
"Hello?" ventured Arrow.
Glint jumped guiltily. Something about his demeanour gave the impression that he was always either up to something or about to be up to something. Despite this, he hardly gave off the vibe of being rebel material and yet he had thrown a rotten turnip at Duke Silvershield during Eric's trial and leapt out in front of the parade on the way out of Baldur's Gate. Arrow was curious to know why.
"Hm, what mmm?" the gnome replied distractedly. "Oh uh, hello. Uh, excuse me. I've got to go."
"Go? Go where?" replied Arrow, unable to keep herself from laughing at the blustering little man with his blue beard and wide eyes.
"Somewhere. Anywhere. Oh dear…" Glint sighed. "It isn't personal. My mother really wouldn't like me talking to you. I'm sorry."
"But you told me you thought your mother and I would have a lot in common!" protested Arrow. Glint looked perplexed. "I have to say, after meeting your mother, that may not be the compliment I thought it was at the time."
"Have we met?" he puzzled.
"Alix Whosonson," she grinned, holding out her hand.
"Alix who… that was you?" cried Glint, and then he burst into laughter.
"It was a way to get about the city without attracting anyone's attention," laughed Arrow. "Except yours apparently. I'm sorry you got dragged into Freya's war. Not as sorry as I am that I got dragged into it but still… How are you doing anyway?"
"This is the life, isn't it?" cried Glint, with not wholly-convincing enthusiasm. "Marching in step, meeting new people, some of whom aren't trying to kill us. Just… soldiering. I love it. Love it."
He cast a nervous glance toward the commanders. Though Corwin was notionally in command of the army, Duke Silvershield rode back and forth between Baldur's Gate and the caravan on a white charger. Sometimes more than once per day. He had to be using magical aid in order to achieve this, even a thoroughbred stallion like his could not be that fast. He was riding with Corwin now and the pair of them were conversing in low voices. Every so often one of them would shoot a dark glance in Freya's direction.
"It's ok Glint," smiled Arrow, "I don't think the Dukes like me much either, although I never threw a turnip at one of them. How come you did that anyway?"
"Well, because mother told me to is the short answer." The gnome bit his lip, looking uncomfortable. "The long answer is… long. Well, actually, it isn't that long, but I think talking with you about it might not be a smart idea. Seeing as how you live in the Ducal Palace and your sister is the Hero of Baldur's Gate."
"And I'm a Bhaalspawn," Arrow reminded him, slightly accusingly. Glint's mother had nothing nice to say about that during their protest. "Don't forget that!"
"That too!" agreed Glint. He cocked his head and looked at her shrewdly. For a moment, Arrow thought he might be considering saying something else, but he seemed to think the better of it because a moment later he was gone, slipping between the legs of the marching soldiers faster than a grown human would be able to follow.
The day dragged on into evening. Travelling with Minsc in the party was an experience, though like Dynaheir, Arrow soon learned to sift the small amount of meaningful content from the constant stream of random things he said. The witch herself said little. She was very aloof and seemed to spend a lot of her time watching Edwin, Viconia and Freya out of the corner of her eye.
There was little question that the werewolf was growing worse under their influence. Viconia took the opportunity during the long walks to drip poisoned words into her ear. Nothing too obvious. Just casual reminders slipped into conversation about how much people despised drow and werewolves. Viconia and Safana had got on in the past, but the thief had taken to watching the drow suspiciously. Edwin continued to carry Viconia's things for her, grumbling under his breath almost constantly, and plotting Dynaheir's demise. All in all, it was an uncomfortable camp, and that night when Arrow noticed that Freya was missing, the ranger tracked her paw prints deep into the wood. Any excuse to get away.
The tracks led through dense bushes, but Freya was a large animal and the trail of crushed flora was not difficult for a trained ranger to follow. At length they emerged into a small clearing and there, poking out from under a bush, was the werewolf's golden tail. Arrow tugged it like one of the bells in the Ducal Palace. A canine head popped out of the top of the bush, turned to her like a periscope, and ducked back down again. Seconds later, human-Freya shuffled backward out of the greenery, bits of leaf and twig clinging to her long blonde mane.
"Check it out!" Freya whispered admiringly, hauling Arrow to her feet. Arrow looked in the direction that the werewolf was pointing. A young soldier was single-handedly battling a crusade assassin and a part-ogre. Arrow let out a yelp of horror, and notched an arrow into her bow. It was Skie.
Freya smiled and shook her head, firmly lowering Arrow's weapon so that it pointed at the ground. The young thief was incredibly quick on her feet, ducking a blow from the ogre and skirting around the assassin. She moved around rapidly, keeping the assassin between herself and the ogre, who was not fast enough to keep up with her. A vicious exchange of dagger-swipes followed, which left the man bleeding to death on the mossy ground. The ogre let out a roar of fury and charged Skie, crushing the ribs of his fallen companion under his feet with an unpleasant crunch. Freya was watching with an admiring look on her charming face, though Arrow got the impression that she would intervene in a heartbeat if she thought Skie were in any real danger.
The Flaming Fist's most important foot soldier stood her ground until the last second, before side-stepping the part-ogre and slashing his tendons as he barrelled past her. It howled and sank to its knees, before Skie's standard-issue short sword found the back of its neck and plunged downward.
"I had to make sure she didn't get hurt," sighed Freya. "Doesn't look like I was needed though. She's amazing isn't she?"
"And THAT'S what happens when I don't get what I want!" Skie yelled at the part-ogre's body.
Arrow could not believe what she was witnessing. Not only had the young noblewoman risked her own life, but she had gambled the futures of every unfortunate bystander whom Duke Silvershield was likely to blame for her death. More than that, she had lured Freya away from the camp. If the Hooded Man were to stumble upon them now, the three of them would have their work cut out fighting their way back to the shelter of the Flaming Fist.
"Of all the irresponsible-" Arrow started. Skie looked up panting, seemingly noticing the pair of them for the first time.
"Freya?" pouted Skie, her hand on her hip. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you help me fight these beasts?"
"My apologies mi'lady," replied Freya with an ironic bow. "Had I arrived sooner I would certainly have helped. Might I enquire why her ladyship was fighting these beasts in the first place?"
Skie scowled at her.
"Don't call me 'lady!' You know I hate it."
"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your servants," grinned Freya, sitting down on a large rock. For a moment Skie looked as though she might start berating the warrior again, but then she smiled sarcastically. There was nowhere for her to sit so she boldly plonked herself on Freya's lap instead, and scratched behind her ears. Freya threw her head back with a submissive moan, while Arrow stood there with an expression of awkward irritation, not knowing where to look.
"Never mind, I take it back," Freya mumbled happily. "You can talk to me however you like. So, why where you fighting these crusaders?"
"Well, I was in the camp. Boring!" grumbled Skie, taking a lock of Freya's golden hair and twisting it around her fingers. "Then I spotted this oaf lurking around the quartermaster's supply tent. I think he thought he was being stealthy if you can believe that. He was trying to poison our rations. I snuck up behind him and gave him the shock of his life. He took off running and there was nobody nearby to stop him, so I went after him. Then I had an idea."
Even Arrow had to admit that this was impressive, but Freya was gazing at the woman on her knee with starry eyes. Despite the fact that Skie was clearly interested in men, Arrow could understand why she found Freya's attention addictive. It must feel wonderful to be loved like that.
"It nearly worked too," Skie went on in a disappointed huff. "Unfortunately his friend knew his business. He spotted me and, well, here we are!"
"Skie you're amazing, you really are," said Freya softly. "You saved us all and our supplies, but you shouldn't have chased him out of camp after you stopped him. If anything happened to you I'd-"
"Urgh, you're SO BORING!" Skie cried, launching herself roughly from Freya and storming away. "I'm going back to the camp."
"Skie? Skie I-" Freya cried, but the other woman did not look back. The werewolf watched her go with a stricken expression.
They stayed there for a moment in silence, Freya staring after Skie like an abandoned puppy and Arrow scanning the wood edgily for more enemies. Footsteps were approaching from the trees. The ranger aimed her bow into the darkness and Freya sprang to her feet drawing her swords, but it was only more refugees. A farmer, her husband and their six small children. Accompanying them was a tall Kara-Turan warrior who did not seem to be related. The father gave his wife a small shove in the back toward the two sisters and the tired, henpecked woman started toward them.
"Fucking hell, I thought the Hooded Man had me that time," Freya grumbled resentfully. "Sod this. I'll see you back at camp."
She turned back into the large golden wolf and bounded away through the trees in a series of loud crashes. Arrow rolled her eyes and looked back to the peasant woman who was now backing away slowly, as her husband gathered their children about him. Arrow was about to put down her weapons when the Kara-Turan man somersaulted between her and the refugees, katana drawn. It was an impressive move, or at least it would have been had he not messed up the landing. As it was he stumbled clumsily at her feet, catching himself with his blade, which plunged into the ground and refused to be pulled out again. The ranger spluttered with laughter. The warrior scowled at her, retrieved his sword with a great heave and stood once more to face her.
"I will not let you hunt these people!" he cried. "Begone, werewolf, for you face none other than the great Yoshimo!"
"Who?" asked Arrow, nonplussed. The warrior looked a little crestfallen, and she felt her lip twitch a little. Despite his ungainly presentation she couldn't help noticing the way his long, dark hair caught the fading light. She carefully explained that she was not a werewolf, nor about to attack the refugees and Yoshimo sheathed his weapon, looking mildly disappointed.
The woman timidly asked how far it was to Baldur's Gate, and though Arrow had no gold left to give, she broke apart the rations she was carrying and handed them out to the children. When she looked up, Yoshimo was smiling at her. He had a cute roguish smile, and she found herself smiling back and turning a little pink.
"We thank Ilmater for the food we are about to receive," the children gabbled very quickly before digging in. Arrow smiled and made the sign of Ilmater for them. To her surprise, Yoshimo did the same, and sat cross-legged beside her.
"Perhaps I have not been on this continent long enough for my reputation to spread," he said, cheerfully. "I arrived here recently. I am on a quest to seek my sister. She was working for a man in Baldur's Gate but he met with an unfortunate accident. After that her letters to me stopped."
"I just came from Baldur's Gate," replied Arrow. "What's her name?"
"Tamoko," Yoshimo replied hopefully. Arrow thought for a moment. The name actually did ring a bell. There were not that many Kara-Turan women in Baldur's Gate and she mentally ran through all the ones she had met. Then her face fell as she remembered.
A frantic, whispered conversation with Sarevok in the library at Candlekeep. A sad, but resigned woman emerging from the underground temple of Bhaal to meet her fate. One flash of Freya's twin bastard swords and a severed head bouncing down the temple steps. And Freya. Freya sitting in her brother's dust on the altar of their father, her swords drenched in Tamoko's blood.
"Tamoko, Sarevok's lover?" Arrow asked, hoping against all odds that he might have meant a different Tamoko.
"Am I to assume from your tone that she is dead?" asked Yoshimo quietly.
"Yes," replied Arrow, feeling that the kindest thing to do would be to tell the man the truth. "She tried to fight the Hero of Baldur's Gate all alone. I don't know why."
Yoshimo's face contorted with distress. He looked about him bleakly as though not sure what he was supposed to do with himself now. Then he took a deep, shivering breath and looked back at Arrow. His dark eyes were pained, and the ranger felt intensely sorry for him. He swallowed, and his next words sounded like they hurt.
"Thank you for telling me," he said, with a small bow. "I had feared this might be the case. Perhaps this was inevitable. She always tended toward evil but her letters grew worse every week she spent with that man. I fear she was too far gone."
"What will you do now?" Arrow put a hand gently on his arm.
"I will take these people the rest of the way to Baldur's Gate," replied Yoshimo, looking about him despairingly. He seemed utterly lost. "And then I suppose I will go home."
The refugee family looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Arrow wracked her brain to try and think of something comforting to tell him. A wood pigeon cawed in a nearby tree, and the woman looked up at it with hungry eyes.
"How can I even grieve?" Yoshimo asked suddenly, his voice cracking. "Knowing for certain that my sister will be condemned to the hells?"
"I don't think she was so very evil," Arrow ventured. "She wanted Sarevok to stop what he was doing, I overheard her trying to persuade him. Maybe she could have been talked out of fighting Freya, if she hadn't killed her so quickly. I don't know, if I'd been there perhaps… but the gods know. Ilmater forgives many things."
"She could have been saved?" asked Yoshimo, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hair. "And the Bhaalspawn did not bother to try. My sister's life was worth nothing to her then?" This was not the take-home message that Arrow had been trying to convey, but if he was heading to the city then he was bound to find out the truth sooner or later. No, Tamoko had meant nothing whatsoever to the Hero of Baldur's Gate. Arrow doubted that Freya would even remember her name. She shrugged, helplessly. Then Yoshimo added, accusingly, "Yet you follow this woman into battle. Why?"
"I'm sort of bound to her. I don't really have much choice," sighed Arrow, hauling herself to her feet. Night was approaching and it was time to be getting back. She did not want the soldiers to have to waste their resting time searching for her. "If I did, I'd be back at the chapel of Ilmater helping with the refugees."
She took her leave, and Yoshimo kissed her hand. Whatever her circumstances, he thought, it was a great pity that this kind lady had to be bound to the evil Bhaalspawn. Yet now he had the truth of it. The Hero of Baldur's Gate, this 'Freya' whom Tamoko had spoken of in her letters, had murdered his sister. What could he do though? She was impossibly strong, wealthy and surrounded by a vast army. Revenge was impossible. There was nothing for him to do but return to his homeland and try to let it go.
Arrow set off back toward the camp deep in thought. The Kara-Turan was clearly angry that Freya had not given his sister a chance, and she could not blame him. It was difficult. She needed her sister, but she did not much like her or how she went about doing things. Would it really have hurt her to allow Tamoko a few moments to speak before decapitating her? Just to be absolutely sure that it was really necessary. She might have been irredeemably evil, she might not, but the Hero had never bothered to find out. Even if Freya was right and Tamoko deserved to die, it did not follow that her family deserved to lose her.
So lost was Arrow in her thoughts that she almost did not notice that Freya had been waylaid close to the camp. She looked up and found herself badly startled. The werewolf was in human form again, seemingly having a friendly chat with none other than Rasaad. Arrow took a step back, thinking that if she could slip back into the trees she might be able to skirt around them without having to talk to him. It was too late, however. The monk had seen her. Nothing to do but carry on walking.
"It is good to see a friendly face in the wilderness," said Rasaad. Freya risked a sideways glance at Arrow. The man was either blind or madly optimistic, because the ranger's expression was anything but friendly. "I have come to join you on your quest, Arowan. If you will still have me?"
"I only asked you to come the first time because I was ordered to by Duke Silvershield," replied Arrow, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "Do you see the Duke here?"
"No," admitted Rasaad.
"There's your answer," said Arrow, firmly. Rasaad looked wounded, but the ranger forced herself not to care.
"Not a problem! Join mine!" chipped in Freya jovially. Arrow turned slowly to face the werewolf with an expression that could have curdled milk. The taller woman happily ignored her. "We could use another fighter and I think you already know my cleric, Viconia? She's back at the camp."
Rasaad, who was still reeling from Arrow's rejection considered this. He had a very mixed opinion of Freya. On the one hand she was a follower of Selune, had saved the Sword Coast from Sarevok and was sponsoring the refugees in the Iron Throne out of pocket. On the other she was crass, undisciplined, known for sleeping with anything in a skirt and had dragged her feet about doing anything to help the refugees for months, despite being one of the wealthiest people in Baldur's Gate.
"Why the change of heart, just out of interest?" asked Freya. She had bribed (or blackmailed depending on how you looked at it) the clerics in the Iron Throne building to say anything to get him to join the expedition. Apparently, their efforts had been a success and she was curious to learn what they had told him.
"The members of my order, the missing Selunites," said Rasaad earnestly. "I was told that they had joined with Caelar. If this is true then they have abandoned the Sun Soul Order and turned to heresy." He turned to Arrow. "Forgive me. I understand that you do not want me here, but I must see for myself if this is true."
"You, Freya, Edwin and Viconia?" replied Arrow coldly. "Outstanding. That means all the people I wish to avoid will be in one place. How convenient."
"Aww don't be like that little sister," sighed Freya. "I know you have this thing against drow, but you and me, we're family."
"I have nothing against drow!" snapped Arrow. "I have something specifically against Viconia. Namely that she tried to murder me. The little spider feeds you more garbage every day and yet you keep swallowing it. I am not biased against drow."
"You say that," said Freya, a triumphant spark in her grey eyes, "And yet you just called a drow a spider. Bit like calling a werewolf 'dog' that is. Or implying that we eat garbage. Sounds pretty biased to me. Just saying."
Arrow looked from Freya to Rasaad with an expression so feral that for a moment the werewolf imagined that she was looking at one of her own kind.
"You have got to be two of the stupidest people in Faerun!" she snapped. "You know what? I take it back. Form a party together. Between the two of you, you might be able to piece together enough fragments of brain to form one functioning mind!"
She stormed back to camp without a backward look, her head thumping. That night she had a very hard time getting to sleep, but even in her dreams she seemed unable to escape her sister. They shared a peculiar vision. A nightmare about Sarevok, and the Hooded Man.