Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them. I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

Author's note: Apologies for the sporadic posting of late; I'm going to blame Dragon Age –it's certainly been taking up most of my time, lol. In spite of that, chapter 10 is now ready and, for the most part, I am quite happy with it –a rarity for me- though I'd be very pleased to hear others' opinions. As ever, thanks to my betas and everyone who reviewed/pm-ed about the last few chapters; I hope to get chapter 11 published this Friday (or the following Friday, depending on the response) and then we should be back to some semblance of regularity.

– Blackcross & Taylor

Besieged

Imoen hurried along, keeping pace with the slightly taller woman just before her, she and Jaheira stalking through the empty streets, the few people about them passing with a similar haste, the low rumble of the city broken only by the distant shouts from the walls and the groan of catapults, huge rocks, tarred and flaming, sometimes hurtling overhead to disappear and moments later would come the explosion and the chorus of screams. The air was acrid, heavy with smoke and an oppressive heat that seemed to cloy in her very lungs, as though the air itself was running out in that beset city.

The city bells would have just marked the fourth hour of the afternoon –had they still been being rung, and they were supposed to be meeting the men just over on the edge of the slums district, their own inn now commandeered as a temporary barracks in its proximity to the eastern walls. But the route they had hoped to take was blocked by a collapsed house, clerics dragging bodies from the rubble as members of the city watch tried to direct the labourers shoring up those buildings about it, and this had forced their detour.

Saradush had been under bombardment for three days now, and Imoen was no longer sure how the city would meet its end; either destroyed by the threat outside, or torn apart by the panic within. On that first day, the city had been wild with rumours of dragons and a whole army of djinn arrived from Calimshan. But, by now, the rest of the tales had faded leaving only one to prevail: the brigands were under the command of the giant, Yaga Shura, a Bhaalspawn who sought the death of every one of his brethren within Saradush, and hardly minded killing rest of population to achieve his goal. And with that in mind, the catapults had not stopped day or night, the walls standing firm for the time being, and Imoen was beginning to suspect it was more to demoralise those within, a good tenth of the city already homeless and finding shelter in the cellars, bathhouses and catacombs that wound beneath the city's streets.

As for supplies, they were not an issue yet, but Imoen knew the thought of it was there, lingering like a shadow in the back of people's minds, and the sense of helplessness was overwhelming as all waited for the city council to announce some affirmative action. But if a decision had been made, they had yet to tell the populace and the feeling of panic tangible, an underlying current that flowed the streets, just waiting to surge up and turn frightened citizens into a desperate mob. The city watch were stretched to breaking point trying to keep order, while still manning the walls, the shifts of mages and archers the city only means of retaliation. Their small group had volunteered, along with many others, to become auxiliary watchmembers on that first day, but had been gently rebuffed. The old guard captain appreciated their offer, but tensions were running high enough in own men, and he could not risk trouble in the ranks by adding a "Bhaalspawn and her gang" to the mix.

And so, with little else to do, they were still looking for Fritha, though Imoen felt the search held more the air of keeping them occupied now. After all, with the city under siege, she could not see the girl staying hidden, and she doubted there were any left among them who still believed Fritha was there.

Ahead of her, Jaheira rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, Imoen following to find a large square so packed with people that even Jaheira's insistent elbows could not have made a path. The crowd were all talking and shifting relentlessly, a small group of men armed with poles, axes and seemingly whatever else they could find stood upon an empty cart in the centre, their thick-set leader bellowing over the throng.

'This is all their fault! They brought this doom to our city, them and their cursed blood! If we got rid of the Bhaalspawn, then this army would just leave the city alone!'

'Let's force 'em out!' yelled one enthusiastic supporter from the crowds, another raising voice to counter, 'And how, fool? We can't open the gates!'

'Send a message to the giants,' offered another, 'tell them we'll surrender the Bhaalspawn.'

'Fool!' laughed a stooped old woman, who was perhaps too advanced in her years to fear death any longer, 'Yaga Shura may only wish for the Children, but what do his army of brigands' seek? Open the gates and they will pillage this city and leave it aflame!'

The crowd was muttering furiously, Imoen sending the woman next to her a glance in the press and nodding back the way they had come –it was time to be leaving. But a great 'Ha!' stopped in her in her tracks. A tall, broad man who would have made a good match to Minsc had jumped up to stand on the edge of the nearby mounting block, his dark eyes surveying the crowd that was busy edging back from him and the small group of well-armed outsiders assembled at his feet.

'You might want to surrender us, but we aren't going! Your council agreed to let us stay and we won't be sent out as a sacrifice for that giant!'

'Yes!' cried a woman of his company, the young blond girl likely a mage by her robes, and Imoen felt a stab of sympathy at the fear to her face, 'Why must we be sent to die? We've done nothing wrong!'

Back at the cart, the men were quite unmoved. 'Well, now, if you won't go to the giant, them maybe we'll just deal with the problem for him!'

He was glancing to the crowd for some roar of agreement, but what he got was quite different, the rock catching him on the temple in a spray of blood, and the square exploded as weapons were drawn on both sides, the crack of magic tearing through the air as people screamed and fought to escape the sudden stampede.

Jaheira whipped to her, the pair of them ready to make a run for it, when the echo of marching feet halted them, the street they had travelled down now blocked by the steadily advancing battalion.

'Hold, citizens, for the city watch- all will be detained!'

The panic increased tenfold, everyone fleeing for the three remaining exits, Imoen almost knocked to the ground as people barged past her, Jaheira setting her staff before them both as they tried to press away from the advancing watch.

'Imoen!'

Imoen staggered, whirling at the voice, that familiar red head bobbing in the chaos.

'Agwin!' she cried, the lad fighting his way through to them, 'What are you doing here?'

'I've been sent to find you -come on!'

He grabbed her hand, a glance back confirming Jaheira was still with them as he pushed through the crowds and slipped into a narrow alleyway, the high wall at the end seemingly blocking any escape. Agwin, though, had other ideas, already before a small door that was set in the building to the right.

'Damn idiots,' he muttered crossly, fumbling through his lock picks, 'Melissan told them to stay inside.'

'It was her who sent you, wasn't it?' confirmed Imoen, a scream from the square behind making her wince, though she refrained shoving him out of the way and unlocking it herself; using another's picks just wasn't done.

He nodded, still struggling with the rusted lock as watchmen bawled orders over the crowds. 'Yes, she needs to speak with you urgently.'

'Fine,' agreed Jaheira briskly, 'but we must meet with Minsc and Valygar first.'

Agwin grinned as the lock finally turned with a satisfying click, the lad opening the door on a dingy warehouse and gallantly showing them inside. 'There is no need, ladies; they are already with us.'

The sounds of the riot still raging outside, they followed him through the warehouse and out a door on the opposite side, the trouble now streets away and growing only more distant as Agwin led them back to the eastern quarter where they had once made their lodgings, the boy taking one of the lanes off the thronging market square to bring them to a halt before one of the city water stations where were kept the pumps and mechanisms that brought the city's water up from where it flowed in the rocks far beneath.

'Here,' he murmured, checking the street about them before tapping lightly on the iron door. The sound of locks being drawn back, the shadowy figure within giving them a polite nod as they entered, the stone steps lit only by the light from the room they led down to, Agwin providing the explanation as he led the way.

'The council gave us use of this place when Melissan first arrived here at the city –they thought it best we be kept away from the normal people.'

He had reached the doors, gently pushing the aging wood open on a long stone hall, the ceiling above low and vaulted, the ribs descending to rest on the plain stone pillars that ran in two rows along its length. Benches and long tables dominated the centre, the lanterns and candles burning upon them providing the only light, while to the edges were lain bedrolls and bags, blankets and rugs strung between the pillars to give some semblance of privacy. And everywhere were seated men and women in twos, threes or larger groups, some talking while others amused themselves with cards or other games, and Imoen was suddenly struck by the scale of the thing, Bhaalspawn no longer a slur thrown at her, Fritha or a handful of others. It was a title, a name for the hundred or so people before her, brothers and sisters in their shared curse.

'It was actually an old blackpowder store,' continued Agwin cheerfully, 'disguised as a water station for the benefit of those living in the houses above; I suppose no one in the city liked the idea of a few hundred barrels of the stuff beneath them. Shame the last city council voted to send it all to Darromar –it would've certainly come in useful now, but at least it keeps us safe from the catapults, eh?'

Imoen cast a critical eye about them. Though that was certainly true, the entrance was small and there was only one way either in or out that she could see -easily defensible, but Imoen had always preferred having back way out.

The men were already there as Agwin had promised, sat at a table on the edge of the room and both on their feet as they noticed their approach.

'Thanks be, you are safe,' breathed Valygar, looking for a moment as though he would pull her to him in his relief, hands upon her shoulders, when he thought better of it and let them drop abruptly to his sides, the girl trying not to feel hurt as Minsc stepped in to provide the grateful embrace.

'Young Imoen and good Jaheira, how glad we are to see you – we heard of riots within the city.'

'We were fine, Minsc; Agwin came to find us.'

The lad smiled proudly at this recognition, the look becoming more pensive as Melissan arrived at their side.

'You have come, and I am grateful for it –Agwin, perhaps you could go and check on the others.'

'Now will you tell us what this is about?' demanded Valygar, as the boy left them; the ranger clearly did not appreciate being kept waiting or in the dark.

Melissan nodded, sinking onto the bench behind her, and all took the seats about the woman as she began.

'I am sorry, but I wished to tell the tale only once. First, I must begin outside this siege with the one who is its cause. Yaga Shura, as you have no doubt heard, is a Bhaalspawn and he wages war here in an effort to murder his brethren.'

'We know all this!' urged Imoen impatiently.

'Yes,' conceded Melissan, 'but what you do not know is that Yaga Shura is no ordinary Bhaalspawn- he is for want of a better word, invulnerable.'

'What?'

'That is impossible!'

'Please,' she hissed warily, casting about them, 'not so loud. And yes, it is possible. Arrows, blades, even the most powerful magics leave no permanent mark –he heals faster than he can be wounded. I know, however, he was not born with this immunity. He developed it somehow, and if that is the case it can likely be removed. I know the priests and mages of the city hold council even now, trying to discover a means to dispel it, but until then we need to make sure that Saradush does not fall.'

'Boo wonders, then, what you wish of us.'

'This news of Yaga Shura is not common knowledge –you can imagine easily the panic were it to get out, though I have shared it with the city council and General Gromnir.' Melissan shook her head wearily, 'Though I wonder now if that was a mistake. The general refuses to rally his troops to face the army and has barricaded himself and his men in the upper reaches of the fortress. At first I thought, on hearing this news of the giant, his courage had deserted him, but lately I have heard more disturbing rumours of from the keep, of wild accusations and random executions, even within his own men -I fear he has gone mad.'

Jaheira was frowning. 'If this city falls then all will die -cannot the city council make him see sense?'

'No, the city council are men of commerce, not war, and Saradush was not prepared for such an attack. Without a force of their own to command, they are riddled with indecision as to the proper course to take -Gromnir refuses to even hold council with them, but I might still be able to reason with him, if I could only force him to meet with me.'

'And that's where we come in,' said Imoen. Melissan nodded firmly.

'Indeed, I know of a means into the fortress as told to me by one of the city council, though I could never make the way alone. You defeated Illasera, a woman who struck terror into the hearts of many here, and I know if any in this city could help me, then it will be you.'

'So what do we do?' rumbled Valygar.

'There is a secret way into the fortress in the old city gaol, though the building was closed up decades ago, a more shameful aspect of this city's past. Much evil was done there under the command of the sadistic head gaoler. He was discovered and eventually hung, but many others had followed him and justice was not done in full, the Council preferring to cover up the horrors there and their own negligence, and the place was closed. But there is a passage hidden within that leads into the fortress's dungeons, and from there we can make our way up through the keep and finally reach the general and make him see sense.'

The air of misgiving over them was palpable, Minsc the only one to give voice to the feeling.

'Boo is not sure this will work.'

Melissan looked grim. 'No, but we must try – or Saradush will fall.'

xxx

It was late afternoon, the air close with heat from the sky and ground both as they made their slow ascent through the Marching Mountains. The arid landscape was all the same desolate brown, brittle gorse scrub sprouting wherever it could find purchase between the barren stones, sulphurous clouds rising from vents in the rock, drifting up from the magma that flowed and seethed far, far beneath.

They had been making their ascent since dawn yesterday, the temple apparently deep within the mountains and cut into the rock itself. Fritha paused, and reached for her flask, her tunic clinging unpleasantly to her back. Next to her, Solaufein half-turned at the delay, the sheen of sweat highlighting his dark cheeks, and she passed him the canteen with a wan smile –not even Avernus had been this hot.

Ahead of them, the ranger, Ivic, was leading the way, the man who had strode so confidently before them at the beginning of the morning now crouched and cautious, and Fritha could tell they were closing to their goal. She had been worried initially how he would deal with the elves' company; she could not see many taking Sephis and Orvel's obvious contempt with the same passive acceptance as she and Solaufein. But it seemed her worries were to be unfounded, the pair giving the man who stood a head higher than even the tallest of them a wide berth. In fact, all the elves seemed much subdued since Sirra. Their two wounded were doing well, Vestil fully healed and Jastren all but so, but Fritha felt the attack by the mercenaries and their reception in the town had injured something more than physical. She kept wishing the elves had been with them in Remmstor and had not missed the chance to know a different sort of human, and she had to remind herself that the majority of them had lived many years and had probably travelled to more human settlements than even she had. One town was unlikely to change their views, for good or bad.

As for their guide, Ivic was a taciturn but kind man of the dark Tethyran colouring, his black hair and beard streaked with grey. He had greeted her with the paternal mention that he had a daughter Fritha's age, though the girl herself was married now with baby of her own back in Sirra -something Fritha had greeted with a discomfited smile, the idea that she could have such a life by now so strange as to be comical. He had spoken, too, of her performance back at the tavern, though he had stated bluntly that he had preferred her first few songs to the later ones, an admission which had instantly earned him Solaufein's goodwill.

She glanced back to where the sun was descending on to the western peaks; it would not be long now. Solaufein had not told her of the temple until the morning after their night at the inn, the man explaining that his previous anger had driven it from his mind as they quickly dressed to meet the others on the landing. She was rather glad he had not; learning of the warring Bhaalspawn had been disturbing enough -the idea that temples to that far-sighted god were springing up just seemed to lend even more weight to His inevitable return. She was trying not the think about it, either what they would find there at that temple or where this path would finally lead them, the girl very aware of the promise she had made the man just before her in that small silent room.

And yet for all that it would creep in sometimes, in the quiet moments laid in their tent before sleep claimed her: the freedom of leaving that place and the curse upon her life to see the world she had imagined lay behind the fine ink lines of her old atlas. It hovered there now, the hope of it, and it felt as she had to do was reach out, to nod and say 'yes', and it would be hers.

At their head, Ivic had raised his hand, the man lingering on the edge of a wide ravine, checking the way before him before beckoning them forward. Fritha closed to his side, the shallow crevice swinging into view, a huge archway opening in the flat rock face at its end and decorated with skulls both carved upon the rock and harvested from enemies, the myriad of leering faces set in two macabre columns on either side of the entrance.

'And this is as far as I go,' said Ivic, 'I am a man of the woods, not the horrors likely held within.'

'Fair enough,' agreed Fritha; this was not his battle after all, 'and without knowing what we will face inside, perhaps it would be best if we did not go in as one. I could sneak in with another and report back before we decide the best course.'

'I will go with her,' offered Tandith. Ferdanil nodded once.

'Fine, you and Tandith-'

'I will go, too,' cut in Solaufein and in a tone that indicated it was not an offer.

A moment's internal struggled for their captain, as the desire of sending the drow into danger warred with the annoyance of having his orders questioned, though Ferdanil's dislike won out in end.

'Fine, you three will enter, perform reconnaissance and return here in a half hour.'

Tandith saluted, Fritha giving a nod to show she'd understood, and the three crept forward, out from the cover to approach that yawning opening.

The room it led to was even higher, that doorway opening onto a vast chamber of stone, the walls clad in smooth square panels, likely formed from the rock they had excavated, carved wooden pillars stretching up to a distant ceiling like ornate mine props. Light and blistering heat both were being provided by the large iron braziers that were set in each corner, the floor beneath open and barred with iron, built in vents to the volcano far below and the air reeked with sulphur. No one was about, in either that room or the long wide hallway beyond. The steady thunder of footsteps indicated they were not alone though, a snuck glance into one of the side rooms revealing a large basic kitchen, a few dark-skinned giants, their once vibrant orange hair now grey, busying themselves about towering tables, one raking the coals of the huge kiln oven. Perhaps they had been deemed too old to join the rest of the army in their siege, their small company equalled by a number of soldiers, both humans and orcs, who had presumably been left behind as a guard there. The men seemed more interested in preparing their meal at the moment, though, and their group moved on, avoiding the scant few patrols as they travelled deeper into the temple.

They had reached the end of that long hall now, their way blocked by a flight of enormous stone steps that would have proved a great difficulty for them had not the edge been bordered with a shallower flight; a concession to their smaller allies. At the top, a pair of huge brass doors towered before them, Solaufein and Tandith both required to push one ajar, and the three slipped though into what was likely the seat of Bhaal's worship. The vast stone room was opulently decorated, the wooden columns inlaid with brass and stones and in the centre upon a dais was placed not an altar, but a huge throne of gold, the rubies that glistened upon the end of each armrest the size of her head. Two doors were set in the walls either side of it, Tandith nodding to the rightmost one.

The corridor beyond was silent, their three moving along gloomy hallway between a few private rooms: a bedroom, bathhouse and armour room all of gigantic size and likely held by the high priest there, Fritha wanting to be sure they were truly alone before they began their search –only, they were not.

Solaufein had pushed ajar the door to the last room, the chamber they stepped into built on the same huge scale as all the others but with one marked difference, for its furnishings were of the usual dimensions, bed, chairs and coffers all huddled in the far corner and looking lost in the cavernous space. And there upon the bed she was sat, a swarthy young woman in silks and a dark indigo sari, who bore the long chain manacled at her wrist like a bracelet, her kohl-rimmed eyes going wide as she saw them.

'Who- who are you? New additions to his murderous flock? No, you have not the reek of this place upon you.'

Fritha stepped forward with a raised hand and reassuring smile. 'I am Fritha, this is Solaufein and Tandith; we are here with a company of elves investigating the giants' and their motives.'

'You are not allied to my captors?' the girl cried, suddenly on her feet with a rattle of chains, 'Then you must free me! Please, we must escape now before-!'

'We will; we will,' Fritha soothed, 'but what are you doing here?'

The girl sighed, slumping back onto the bed, her dark hair falling about her like a veil.

'I am Bahia, daughter to rich merchant of Ishidah, a town to the south. I was travelling with my entourage to visit my sister in Almraiven –she is studying at the magic school there- when we were best by brigands. They murdered all the guards and slaves and brought me here. Now Yaga Shura blackmails my father into supplying his army; he exhausts our fortune on it even now, as I must sit here and play consort to that jackal!'

'Yaga Shura?' repeated Solaufein, 'He is the leader of this band?'

'Yes, and god of this temple too.'

'God?' cried Fritha, thinking back to that huge throne, 'They worship him? I thought this was a temple to Bhaal.'

Bahia was shaking her head. 'No, no, not to Him -not directly, at least. Yaga Shura is, as he boasts to me often, invincible, and so has attracted many devotees and fanatics who believe him to be the next incarnation of Bhaal. They built this temple to him, but all but a few left some days ago to attack Saradush and murder the Bhaalspawn within.'

'But why?' asked Tandith.

'He believes he can harness the power of Bhaal himself and ascend if kills enough of them,' offered Fritha dully, 'He isn't the first.'

'It is so,' nodded Bahia, 'often he regales me with talk of how he will be a god first here and then among the divine themselves, though I never believed him- it would be a sorry day for all Toril were that witless brute admitted to the heavens! He calls me his concubine,' she added disgustedly, 'though the monster cannot bed me, thanks be! I believe he merely likes the idea of having the attentions of a woman -says I will be the queen of his harem.' She shuddered. 'His attentions repulse me, though he is too stupid to see it. But I was forced to show willingness- it is only his interest that keep me from the other men.' She sighed fitfully, giving the chain another desperate rattle, 'I just wish to go home!'

'And you shall,' soothed Fritha, 'but if he is truly invincible then Saradush and all who dwell within the city will be killed –is there anything you know, any clue as to how he can be stopped?'

'He cannot be stopped! He is invincible! Now please, let us flee!'

'There must be something, girl,' snapped Solaufein, his patience seemingly exhausted, 'he must have mentioned something- now think!'

Bahia snorted angrily. 'Even he was not so foolish as to tell me anything…' She paused, her gazed suddenly far away, 'but- but he did mention a name once, a woman of his past: Nyalee she was called, an old crone who lives in the Mir Forest.'

'Nyalee?' repeated Fritha, 'The priestess at the ruined temple mentioned her.'

'And- and he is obsessed with stone chest keeps under his bed. There, that is all I know.'

Fritha nodded. 'Thank you, Bahia. Now, wait here while we fetch that chest and-'

'No, please,' the girl cried, franticly pulling at her chain, 'free me now! I can't bear it here! What if you don't return? What if you-'

'Hush now,' Fritha sighed, stepping forward to lay a hand at her wrist and the manacle gave a sound click. 'There, the lock is open and if we don't come back then try and flee yourself, but, please wait for us; we will return.'

The girl nodded, wordlessly rubbing her wrist as she came to terms with her sudden freedom, their three moving back into the dark hallway.

'You are sure we should have freed her?' murmured Solaufein.

Fritha sighed. 'No, but I would have begged for the same.'

They had already visited Yaga Shura's bedchamber once, the room dominated by a large stone bed and piled with cushions made from enough material for your average ball gown, Fritha pausing to admire a bright turquoise one edged in amethyst beads. Just trappings of his power and wealth, more was like –she certainly could not imagine the giant surrounding himself with such treasures for any aesthetic reason. The bed was not so far off the floor that she could walk beneath it, even stooped, Tandith on watch at the door as she and Solaufein dropped to hands and knees and between then pushed and heaved out that large granite chest. It was a simple thing, about the size of a child's tomb and the treasure it held was just as grisly.

Two hearts: one the size of a melon and burning hot, the other shrivelled and cold, and both still beating.

With little else to do, Fritha gathered them into the cloak she had not worn for days now, and the smell of scorched wool followed them back along the corridor. Bahia was still in her room, the girl on her feet and more than eager to join them and they left that temple just as they had come: full of stealth and quite unnoticed.

Outside, the elves met their return with a general sense of relief and they retreated a good hour down through he mountains before it was deemed safe to halt and talk of what they'd found there. Bahia had wanted to keep moving, though she freely admitted the men would not bring her evening meal until after the sun had set and it was quickly agreed that Ivic would take her with him back to Sirra until her father could be contacted. As for the rest of them…

Fritha was sat on a low rock on the edge of that dusty trail, watching the rhythmic trembled of the two hearts lain out on her cloak under the sinking sun, Bahia's account of her capture and captors leaving their group in stunned silence.

'So,' began Sephis slowly, 'if this girl is to be believed, this giant leader is invincible? Impossible.'

'Nothing is impossible,' countered Tandith, 'He must have found some way, perhaps this old Bhaal priestess Nyalee helped him somehow –I don't know.'

Jastren looked puzzled. 'If they had the power to make one of the Children invincible, I wonder then why others of Bhaal's priesthood didn't do the same to the rest of them.'

'Why would they?' Fritha sighed, heaving herself to her feet once more, 'Our purpose is to die. This Nyalee must have her own reasons –if she did this at all.'

'But why attack Saradush?' questioned Bryn quietly, 'What made him think there were any more of the Children there than anywhere else?'

'But there are!' cried Bahia, 'Bhaalspawn have been gathering there for many tenday, seeking refuge in city. Yaga Shura was at first content to wait for more to arrive, but then he heard news that some northern mage was in the city and he could wait no longer.'

'Who,' asked Vazalea, 'Did he tell you the name?'

'Ah, perhaps,' Bahia sighed, brow furrowing in her vexation, 'all the northern names so sound strange to me. Imogen, no, Imowern-'

Fritha nearly choked on the words. 'Not Imoen?'

'Yes, that was it. He was very excited about her arrival- would talk and talk about how it was all falling into place and the Fates were with him.'

Fritha shook her head, an unbearable weight settling in her stomach; it wasn't supposed to be like this. 'The Fates are against us all. If Yaga Shura is invincible, then it is only a matter of time before Saradush falls and then-' she broke off, unable to think even on the possibility and filled with a sudden urgency as she whirled back to Bahia. 'We have to stop him! This woman –you said she lived in the forests of Mir, but whereabouts?'

'I don't know! He never said!'

'I know of a place,' offered Ivic grimly, 'an old temple ruins within the mangroves –she could be there. I will lead you to it, but-' he glanced to Bahia, 'the way will be hard.'

The girl raised her chin defiantly. 'I will keep up; I owe you this much.'

Solaufein turned to the elves about them. 'And what of you?'

'And what of us,' countered Sephis sharply.

Ivic was frowning. 'If this giant would be so bold as to attack Saradush, then why would he not strike at your own city?'

Sephis barked an unpleasant laugh. 'Hah, he would not attack Suldanessellar; we harbour no Bhaalspawn to tempt him.'

'No,' snapped Solaufein, 'you sent the only one from your city -even after she saved it!'

'Solaufein,' Fritha sighed –as though any of that mattered now, the girl turning back to the rest of them to announce, 'I am going to these ruins-'

'As am I!' added Tandith hotly, Avilar and Bryn looking ready to join him. Sephis, though, just looked astounded.

'You would disobey the captain?'

'Would you?' rejoined Tandith, 'He has made no order yet!'

And all eyes seemed to swivel to Ferdanil, the man's face unreadable as he stared at the girl opposite, the two hearts beating at her feet.

'Everyone form up –single file to hide out numbers- we head for the forest.'

And Ivic took the lead, Tandith after him, Bahia unwinding her sari and taking the trousers and tunic Vazeala had given to her, the pair slipping behind a tall bolder to quickly change as the rest of them formed their marching column. Fritha took up again her burden of hearts and joined the line. She could feel Solaufein's presence behind her, a calming counter to the nervous energy that twitched through her as they waited to depart.

Why? Even if she had left Suldanessellar, why, of all places, had Imoen gone to Saradush?

xxx

Dusk was closing in, the sky a dark burnt red, scorched by the fires that blazed both within and without the city. Imoen stood, a nervous energy humming through her as they assembled before a squat, unassuming building of plain grey stone a few streets from the fortress's walls. Minsc was slowly checking his armour, Jaheira beside him with her eyes closed and muttering a quick prayer to her god, Melissan on the Rashemi's other side and flicking hastily through her spellbook like an unprepared student in those last agonising moment before an exam, while Valygar's gaze was upon the sky, his face set.

Imoen left her own spellbook in her bag; she had glanced it over that morning and had no need to see it again. It felt good to be doing something useful, rather than searching that city for someone who had never been there- when she found Fritha, oh, the hell she'd give her for not leaving them some clue of her whereabouts! A sudden surge of emotion, the tears that had never been far from the surface bubbling up, and she had to fight them down –with Fritha gone and her trapped there, they may never meet again.

It was time, Jaheira stepping forwards, her prayers answered as she struck the sealed wooden door once with her stave, the rune which had been inscribed upon it glowing a vivid blue only to fade away completely. Minsc entered first, the druid just behind and followed by Valygar, Melissan wringing her sleeves looking both eager and nervous as she and Imoen brought up the back together.

Inside the air was stale, the smell of mildew strong as they surveyed that gloomy room, lit only by what light could penetrate the narrow, grime-caked windows. A few empty desks and chairs were set within, a scattering of papers indicating it had likely been an office when the gaol was still in use. Another doorway opposite looked to open into a similar room, but it was not there Minsc led them, the man crossing the silent room to the stout, grilled door in the far corner, Imoen pushing to their head with her lock picks ready, but her skills were not needed, the door swinging back under her hand.

Jaheira's werelight flared to life, Imoen and Melissan following suit, the narrow stairway bright in that constant, unflickering light and Imoen could see the ceiling above as they began their descent, a mess of cobwebs and stains. The good feeling was gone now, swallowed by the eerie memories of that first descent into the catacombs of Bodhi's lair.

At last, the lights opened the foot of the stairs, their group stepping down into a small room, three dark hallways leading from it, everything made from the same lifeless grey stone, the fragments of a broken chair rotting in the corner the only sign that anyone had ever been down there. They had grouped together before the steps, perhaps stood closer together than would usually, Valygar turning to send her a nod in the press and Imoen felt the shadows fall back a little.

'Well, we are here…' said Jaheira, glancing about them with a frown, 'Where now? I do not wish to wander about into the night.'

'The councillor told me it was to the north,' offered Melissan. Valygar spared a glance to his compass.

'This way.'

They took the rightmost hallway he'd pointed to, two rows iron barred doors open lining either side, the cells cold and damp, and Imoen could not imagine any worse punishment than being locked down there- at least the Asylum had had windows. Just before her, Valygar had the same thought.

'You spoke before of torture –was keeping them down here not enough?'

'I believe the current gaol is much-'

The distant clang of a slammed door cut her off. Everyone stopped dead, Imoen's heart suddenly rattling madly.

'Is someone there?' called Jaheira, her voice echoing about them, mocking her question over and over as it faded.

Melissan looked afraid. 'It- It was probably just the wind.'

Imoen shot her a look. 'Down here?'

'Come,' rumbled Minsc, his face set as he turned, 'Boo, says we must keep moving.'

They carried on, Melissan moving to their head and pointing the way at each turning, leaving Imoen to bring up the rear alone, Valygar's near-constant glances back to her, not the comfort they had once been. The air teemed with whispers that hung just on the edge of her hearing, just quiet enough that she was never sure it was not just her imagination, the fear making the magics rise and crackle within her as she struggled to keep it under control.

'Through here, I think,' came Melissan far ahead of her, their column turning to step through an open doorway into the next area of the prison, Imoen barely over the threshold when a rush of air caused her to whip round, her shriek lost in the boom as the stout wooden door slammed behind her.

Valygar closed to it in a stride, the man rattling the handle. 'Locked.'

'Well,' offered Imoen, trying to suppress the tremor to her voice, 'we didn't want to go back anyway. I mean…' she trailed off, not sure she liked the connotations of her own words.

'We know,' said Jaheira kindly, 'come, we need to keep moving.'

Along another dark hallway –Imoen had lost count by now, the place a dark maze –a maze filled with the ghost of long dead inmates, awakened by their thirst for blood and vengeance and-

For goodness's sake, stop that! she scolded herself crossly, her heart rate decreasing at the admonishment –she was only making it worse after all. They had turned another corner up ahead, taking a route through an old guard room, Imoen's eyes travelling over the small table and few chairs still left as she passed, Melissan's voice echoing back to her.

'It's not far now, I believe. Just-'

Imoen shrieked as her werelight vanished, the sound of two doors slamming in the darkness, Valygar pounding on the one just before her and then that cold hand clamped at her shoulder. The room exploded in a burst of magic, the rotting furniture now little more than kindling, Imoen standing stock-still in the centre, Valygar finally wrenching the door open, the others piling in behind him as her werelight flickered back to life.

'What happened?' demanded Valygar, terseness betraying his concern, 'Are you hurt?'

Imoen shook her head, the sharp tang of her own singed hair tart in her nostrils. 'No, something grabbed me, and I just sort of-' she made an explosive gesture with her hands.

'And here is our stalker,' said Minsc, the man straightening from where he had been examining something in the corner and Imoen drew a sharp breath, as her eyes fell upon the slumped, charred form.

'A woman?'

The Rashemi looked grim. 'A vampire, though a young one –the scars from the bite are still there to see.'

'Was it alone here?' questioned Valygar. The distant ripple of laughter answered him.

'A nest then,' snapped Jaheira, 'We have not the time now to purge this place.'

Surprisingly it was Minsc who concurred with her first. 'Agreed; Boo says now is not the time for this battle. The local priests may be told of this evil when the city is saved.'

'Come then,' urged Melissan, 'the way into the fortress is just up ahead.'

And they followed her, the woman hurrying before them, her eagerness growing as they closed upon their goal. 'Here, this way, in the cell at the end of this passage.'

And there they were, all cramped, at last, in that small stone cell, Melissan's hands dancing over the bricks in the corner.

'Now, he said it was here somewhere- ah!'

The brick she touched moved, the woman easing it out and twisting the short iron handle hidden beneath, a whole panel the size of a small doorway suddenly clicking forward, Minsc easing fingers behind to heave it open on a dark narrow tunnel.

'It should just be at the other end,' whispered Melissan, skulking into the darkness, Imoen extinguishing her light to follow her; Valygar and Minsc having to duck as they made to follow. The woman was right, barely a dozen yards and they had reached another wooden wall, and Imoen suspected the outside was clad in the same brick façade as the room onto which it opened. A narrow chink between the wooden panels provided a view of the small stone cell beyond, the barred iron door open and allowing a yellow pane of light from the well-lit hallway to open a narrow section of the room, making the shadows on either side of it all the deeper.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Imoen's groping hand closed upon the lever she had been searching for, the girl sending a glance to those pressed in behind her.

'I'll go check it out.'

Minsc and Jaheira nodded, Valygar adding sternly, 'Be careful.'

The door swung forward without a sound, Melissan pulling it almost closed again behind her as Imoen slipped through. She crept forward, ears straining for the sound of approaching feet, through it was not that which halted her, the girl at the open cell door and about to move into the hall when beneath her foot she felt it; that slight wobble to the stone that was likely an uneven mortar base, but just could be something else. Slowly she eased her weight back, every muscle tensed and waiting. Nothing happened.

Relief flooded her, the girl stooping to examine the slab and finding just what she had hoped it was not, this new line of sight allowing her to see at least another two similarly raised tiles in the hall beyond, a long cord running along the edge of the high ceiling.

'What's going on?' hissed Melissan impatiently, as Imoen arrived back, 'You didn't even leave the cell!'

'Pressure trap,' provided Imoen, hurriedly pulling the door closed, 'they're all along the hall by the look of it.'

'Are they dangerous?' the woman questioned. Imoen just resisted rolling her eyes.

'No, but the guards they'll call likely will be –I think they're linked to an alarm.'

'Shush,' hissed Jaheira, sharp ears catching on something they'd missed, 'someone is coming.'

Back in the hall, two orc guards were walking, muttering to each other in their own harsh tongue, Imoen at the chink again and watching their feet neatly side step the trapped tile as they passed the doorway. A pause, the tunnel in silence as they waited for the noise of them to fade completely.

'Right,' whispered Imoen, hand at the handle once more, 'I'm going to disarm it –the halls could be riddled with them and we won't have time to creep along avoiding them all.'

'Wait,' hissed Valygar, Melissan squeaking as he pressed forward to join them at the door, 'I will follow you into the cell –Minsc can come, as well. If you run into difficulties, we should be on hand.'

Imoen nodded, the three leaving the tunnel, the two men taking up position in the shadows behind the door as she stepped over that raised tile and slipped along the hallway in the opposite direction to the guards, the small makeshift office they had left only a few paces away. Inside there, the floor was a smooth plaster and she relaxed at last, eyes scanning across the table, the two hands of the card game they had been playing lain face down upon the wood, the walls lined with a few cabinets, crates and-

Imoen felt herself smile as her gaze caught on a small wooden cabinet that was attached to the opposite wall, the thick cord she had seen running along the hall ceiling edging that room, too, to disappear into the top. Her long roll of picks spread out at her feet, it only took a moment to pin the cord just at the opening and hold the steady the tension that would trigger the alarm, her snips clipping neatly through the wire and it was done.

She tripped back to the door, a wave to the darkness she knew where Valygar was hidden showing him it was a success and she was just about to creep back along that hall when she heard it. Those clattering footsteps set a wave of panic through her, Imoen casting about to dive behind the nearest chest as the two orcs strode in.

The scrape of a chair and, for one awful moment, she thought they were about to sit and resume their game, though the truth was far worse, the men rattling cupboard doors and peering about crates, Imoen's stomach tight as it dawned on her; they were looking for something. And none too quietly either, one seemingly chiding the other as they searched, his companion grumbling as he riffled through the crate next to her, and Imoen crouched further into the darkness, wondering desperately why she had not hidden behind the door and summoming the words of the spell that would likely damage her as much as he.

He was just above her now, the porcine face slack as it looked down to find her there, Imoen ready to spring up when the wet thud halted her, the warm rain spattering her upturned face. She scrambled back, suddenly realising what it was as the creature slumped forward over the crates, an arrow sticking from its throat, Valygar in the doorway next to Minsc, the Rashemi stood over the dead body of the other.

'Are you all right?' asked Valygar, closing to offer her a hand up, though she did not take it, too busy using a sleeve to wipe the blood from her face.

'I'm fine,' she gasped, 'let's go.'

Up the coiled steps of the dungeons and they were out, avoiding patrols and racing along corridors as they made their way up through the fortress, the plain, serviceable design of the kitchens and storerooms changing as they ascended, the upper levels all marble floors and fine Calimshite rugs, the plastered walls painted in dark reds, blues and other expensive pigments.

One last flight of stairs, florid, gilt banisters supporting the polished mahogany rail, and they were in a small reception room, the two large windows opposite showing a view over the city and the siege camp that sprawled beyond, their torches sinister beacons in the deepening dusk. To the left, two thick marble columns marked where three steps led down into the next room, guttural voices drifting through the archway with the lamplight. Melissan led them forward, the thick rugs masking their entrance, and no one even looked up until they were there, assembled upon the top step before that beautiful bright room, a dais opposite, another two thick columns either side of it and coiled in curtains of deep blue velvet. A tall, muscular half-orc was seated on the gilded wooden throne between them, holding council with the scattering of orcs and half-orcs about him, though he was on his feet the instant he saw them.

'Melissan! What are you doing here?'

The woman took a step forward, the others following her descent though admittedly more warily, the surrounding troops watching them through narrowed eyes.

'The true question is what are you doing, Gromnir?' countered Melissan, her tone both commanding and earnest in the same instance, 'what of your promise to the people of this city? To me? You must protect Saradush! Please, send troops to help on the wall and hold a meeting with the city council to decide on a strategy to end this siege!'

Gromnir snorted, lips curling back to reveal a set of oversized teeth in a sneer. 'Ah, such concern for this doomed city –you care nothing for these people, bitch!'

'What?' Melissan gasped, genuinely taken aback, 'Gromnir, how can you say so?'

'I know of your plans, Melissan; you must think me a fool.'

'I think you mad and paranoid! You think I know nothing of what you have been doing up here –Accusations! Executions!'

The half-orc barked a wild laugh –he seemed pretty mad in Imoen's opinion.

'Ha! I am no madman and I know the truth. You are here to kill me! You have been plotting against me, plotting against all the Children!'

'What madness it this?' cried Melissan, 'Have I not always aided you and all of the Children? I brought you here to protect you – and would have too, had you not broken your word!'

But Gromnir would hear none of it. 'No, no, no, I finally understand now how you lied. Well, I will not fight Yaga Shura and I will not send my men from this fortress to die in my stead!'

Imoen felt the last of her patience snap. 'Listen, mate, I don't care what you think Melissan's done, but you promised to help! Yaga Shura wants to kill all us Children, not just you, and this city is going to fall unless you help us!'

Gromnir was staring down at her, as though this was the first time he had even registered Melissan's companions and suddenly he was laughing unpleasantly, his eyes never leaving her and Imoen felt the magic begin to prickle.

'So you could not wait for Yaga Shura, eh, Melissan? You brought another Bhaalspawn to murder me? You would have Bhaalspawn kill Bhaalspawn until all are dead! Well, let us begin, let us begin with you!'

He leapt from the dais, twin axes aloft, perhaps deceived by the short sword at her hip and the burst of magic left Imoen's hands without a thought to strike him square in the chest and the room erupted. Orcs and their half-brethren were charging in from all sides, the air filled with roars and battle cries as their own group whirled to face them. Gromnir had struggled to his feet though he looked a little dazed still, Minsc seizing his chance before he could prove how he had earned the loyalty of that orc army.

One great hewing sweep of that blade and Gromnir lost the axe he had raised feebly to block it and half his head, Minsc withdrawing it with a grunt as the half-orc collapsed, dead before his throne. Though their numbers were greater, the remaining orcs were no match for their force, Melissan releasing an arc of white energy that danced through three of them, fire from Imoen engulfing another while Jaheira and Valygar ended others with blade and staff and just as quickly as it had exploded the room was silent once more.

Melissan was shaking, eyes wide above the hand she held trembling above her mouth as she surveyed the carnage.

'Oh, oh gods, what have we done, we have doomed this city!'

'He left us no choice!' cried Imoen, Jaheira nodding angrily.

'He was clearly quite mad, the way he ranted -did you know he was this far gone?'

Melissan shook her head. 'No, I mean, I knew the stress- No!' she snapped firmly at the druid's look.

'His troops,' rumbled Valygar, 'would they fight for the city regardless?'

'I doubt it –their loyalty was to Gromnir, not Saradush. They will likely barricade themselves here in the fortress and wait for Yaga Shura to kill the Bhaalspawn; they are not of the Children and have nothing to fear in him. Oh, merciful gods, this city, all these people and those I so strove to protect…'

It was seemingly all too much for the woman, Melissan slumping heavily to sit on the steps and weep into her hands, Jaheira shaking her head as she moved to the nearest window, Minsc finding more sympathy in his heart and crouching next to Melissan to murmur some words of comfort.

Imoen turned from them, weariness surging through her limbs as all the fight left her. The last chance for that city and they had been the ones to ruin it. And suddenly the tears were falling, the girl turning to find refuge in the shadow of one of the curtain-swathed pillars, no more ashamed of her tears than she was ashamed to laugh, but likewise, she did not fancy anyone gawping at her while she did it, burdening them with the responsibility of offering her some platitudes. It seemed she had not been overlooked in any case though, that familiar presence suddenly at her back.

'Imoen?' came that deep, measured voice that always seemed to reassure her.

'Oh, Valygar, why is nothing easy?'

She turned, unmindful of her tears as she took a step closer, just aching to lean upon him, and lose herself in the comfort of another's contact, the sense of betrayal he danced back stabbing right to her heart.

'What- what is it?'

'Nothing,' the man muttered, looking anywhere but her tearstained face, 'I just don't believe this is the time-'

'Damn the time!' Imoen burst out, 'I just want to feel something other than this worry and this- this sick frustration! I mean, I thought you…' her voice died, his empty look stealing it from her throat.

'I am sorry, Imoen, I cannot give you what you want.'

'What do you mean?' she cried, almost pleading, 'The way you've been acting around me –I like you, Valygar, and I think you feel something for me, too.'

She watched him swallow dryly, dark eyes finally able to meet hers. 'I feel… responsible for you, though I see now I should have been more guarded. You are powerful, Imoen, and whether you believe it or not, the path to corruption begins with such and I would hate to see anything happen to you because of it.'

The words hit her like a slap, her breathing suddenly deep and ragged as Imoen gasped the words past the hot lump in her throat.

'Right, I see. Well, you needn't bother. Seriously, I can take care of myself, so go and find yourself another mage to save in place of your mother!'

'Imoen-'

'No, we're finished here,' she snapped, voice stronger by the moment as hurt turned to rage, the girl turning on her heel and marching for the stairs, Minsc and Melissan starting back as she clattered past them.

'Stop your puling and come on, we're not dead yet!'

…

Every head whipped to them as the doors were thrown open with force enough to rattle the hinges and collide back against the walls with a boom as Imoen stalked through and into that low dim cellar, the others left to hurry after her. Agwin strode up to meet their approach, the other hundred or so faces turning to watch the meeting.

'Imoen, what's wrong? Where is General Gromnir?'

Melissan had gone from tearful to broken, her hoarse voice carrying well enough in that deathly silence. 'Gromnir is dead.'

The air filled with a panicked muttering, the news rippling across room like an ill-wind. Imoen ignored it all, the girl still striding down the main aisle to reach the room's centre, a leap from bench to table taking her above them all, the girl scooping up a plate and spoon with her ascent, the din echoing about that vaulted ceiling as she beat them together furiously.

'Oi, everyone -oi, listen to me! I know you're all scared and you're all dispirited, but that ends now! We are Bhaalspawn, the Children of the Curse and I know it isn't fair that we carry this burden, just -just these vessels prophesied to die, but guess what? Life isn't fair and who gives a damn what Alaundo said hundreds of years ago! I say, we're here now and we are the ones who decide how we live and how we die, and I'll tell you how it isn't going to be for me- sat in this hall letting other people fight my battle for me until that army breaks through.'

The muttering had died at her words, the room seemingly transfixed by the girl above them, Melissan's bleating interjecting from somewhere around her knees.

'But what can they do? There is a whole army-'

'Oh, shut up, woman!' snapped Imoen, 'you're not helping –you're not even a Bhaalspawn. But we are,' she continued, eyes back on that sea of faces, 'and we all have a responsibility to try and haul ourselves through this mess. And maybe you're thinking: well, Bhaal didn't give me the power he gave to Yaga Shura, what can I do? You can fight, that's what! All the Children have a responsibility in this, not just the powerful ones. I was like you lot once -worse even! Just some scared little kid who'd have run away from a kobold, but I became strong because I was forced to fight, every step of the way. I could have just let others stand my battles for me, but I didn't. I didn't then and I'm not going to now, and if we fight together, maybe it will be that giant's blood that'll be bringing Bhaal one step closer to His return. Anyone who's with me, then come on!'

A resounding crash as she threw the plate to the stone tiles and jumped down after it, Melissan's face pale and slack in her surprise, and Imoen did not even care if not one person there had heeded her as she stalked past the woman. Jaheira and the others had halted before the doors, the druid nodding imperceptibly to her as she closed and, even in her anger, Imoen could have almost cried at the pride she saw there. And then it came, the shrill groans and scuffles as benches were pushed back and people made to their feet, a proud heat suffusing her face –they were coming.

…

Outside, the dusk was drawing in, the marketplace cleared of stalls and filled with people, men and woman lingering the in the space, their homes no longer safe when a catapult's load could bring them crashing down about their ears, the air of tension spilling over to a riot of panic as the crowds finally noticed them, people surging back as they poured into the square.

'Get- get away from here!'

'Yeah, we want no share in your curse!'

Someone threw a stone, two of the men behind her drawing their weapons, Imoen barging in front of them.

'No, stop! Stop it now! We fight each other and we're just going to do that giant's work for him! Listen to me,' she shouted, her voice carrying as she tripped up the theatre steps next to her, 'This curse of the Children, it's not just our problem, it's everyone's, and everyone needs to work together if we're going to stand a chance.'

A murmuring in the crowd, one voice brave enough to yell, 'Why should we? That giant don't want us, just you lot!'

Jaheira snorted, ascending to stand next to her. 'And do you believe he will be so discriminating once he as breached the walls?'

Minsc was shaking his head, stepping up at her other side. 'Foolish man! Young Imoen speaks the truth. Yaga Shura brought an army to Saradush and all of Saradush must fight if it is to survive! The Children will fight for your city –will you? Yes, they are an army, but if all who can take up a blade will do so, then none will stand before us!'

Silence, Imoen still too angry to care how they chose and then it came, echoing out from the walls above them.

'An army approaches –they bear banners… It's the Order of the Silver Chalice!'

A roar went up in the square before them, an explosion of hope that rang about the walls, and mirrored in all quarters of the city as the news spread. Only one dissenter remained, Melissan looking rattled.

'But they will not know that Yaga Shura is invincible –they will be slaughtered!'

Jaheira was nodding gravely. 'She is right -we need to get a message to them.'

Agwin stepped into the breach, and Imoen could not miss the glance to her as he thumped a fist firmly against his chest.

'I'll go.'

Jaheira nodded again, drawing him to the side with Melissan to detail to him what was to be said, their words lost in the joyous clamour of the crowds around them and Imoen let her gaze drift up to the sky and the first few stars that were peeking through the clouds, the two brightest catching her eye: the Hunter and the Wolf, locked forever in an endless pursuit as they chased each other across the night.

xxx

Anomen was seated before his tent, the lantern throwing a ring of light around him on that dark field, the city and its corresponding siege camp far down the hill, the torches bright in the darkness, as thought the valley itself had been filled with stars. He was on the second shift as the night's watch commander, in charge of the pairs of soldiers and squires sent to patrol the nearby palisade, the pale wooden stakes protecting their facing flank, though he had changed their point of report from the watch-tent to his own; such a night demanded familiarly. Anomen lay down the bracer and eased his heavy cuirass onto his lap. The camp about him was dark and quiet, not marked by the usual laughter and camaraderie, each man lost to his own thoughts, and Anomen was no different as he sat there, checking and rechecking his armour, anything to keep his buzzing mind occupied.

They had met the Order of the Silver Chalice as planned, arriving at the gentle slopes just northwest of the city only a few hours be they had, though it had been enough time for the two hundred mounted knights to set up a decent encampment. Sir Elquist had immediately gone with Sir Tavidad, Knight Commander of the Silver Chalice, and their various seconds into a war council to discuss the battle that the morrow would likely see, and they had not been seen since.

The light yet rhythmic whisper of grass crushed underfoot caught the edge of his hearing and he turned in time to see her round the tent. Brieanna was without her customary armour, her tunic clean, though her hair, like his own, bore the grease of a good few days without a wash, the woman wearing it drawn back in her customary braid and he could not help but be reminded of how Fritha had hated to leave her own hair so. Brieanna, though, seemed unconcerned, the woman sending him a nod in the gloom.

'Hello, Anomen.'

'Brieanna, I thought you had retired, my lady.'

She smiled wanly, settling on the grass next to him with a sigh. 'I could not sleep. I have never been in so large a battle before now –I never expected to feel so nervous.' Her smile took on an embarrassed edge, 'You must be an old hand at this.'

Anomen snorted slightly at the cool mettle she obviously attributed to him. 'I have served on a half dozen campaigns of varying scales, but it matters not; the disquiet before the battle never leaves you.'

'Which is why you are still shining a perfectly clean cuirass,' came that voice, marked by its typical insouciance, Simon stepping from the darkness. Anomen smiled as the man threw himself down next to Brieanna.

'You cannot sleep either?'

'Indeed, but not for that -Sir Cadril's in my tent and snoring like a drunk ogre.'

A round of quiet laughter, Brieanna looking much better for it, though others may have not been in agreement, Erick poking his tousled head from the tent next to them.

'Sir Erick, you're awake, as well?' offered Brieanna, as the man pulled a cloak about him and joined their circle.

'How could I be expected to sleep with Simon out here playing the fool?'

Simon grinned. 'Surely the question there would be: why would you want to? Here, I've something that will calm our nerves,' he continued, pulling a small flask from his bag to pass it around, the spirits within sweet and bracing, Simon the last to take a nip, the man pushing it back into his bag and stretching out in the long grass to gaze up at the night's sky. 'There are so many stars; you never get to appreciate them in the city.'

'I thought you Lathandites preferred the sunshine,' quipped Erick.

'I certainly do, but it does not mean I cannot take pleasure in the starlight- I favour all fair things.'

Simon glanced pointedly to Brieanna, the woman's face contorting with a perturbed frown. Anomen smiled.

'Is that why you spend so much time before the mirror, Simon?'

They laughed, Simon the loudest of all of them, the noise halted abruptly by the approach of armoured footsteps, three men, two guards and another emerging from the darkness. All were instantly on their feet.

'Report,' barked Anomen.

The two men saluted, releasing their quarry, the lamplight falling on a freckled youth with a crop of dark russet hair and wearing a deep frown. One squire had already left, presumable to fetch the commander, Anomen nodding to the soldier still left.

'Sir Anomen, this man arrived at camp-'

'I told you,' the lad snapped, straightening out his coat with an angry glare, 'my name's Agwin; I'm a messenger from Saradush. I bring news from Melissan, Guardian of the Children.'

'As he claims, sir,' continued Squire Gadwed, 'though we found nothing upon him as proof he was even from the city. We thought he could be from the enemy to spy or disseminate false information.'

'By Tymora's Smile, I am not!' the lad cried, 'Jaheira said you knights would refuse to listen to sense.'

'Jaheira,' pressed Anomen, suddenly alarmed, 'the druid, Jaheira?'

Agwin blinked, frustrations gone in his bewilderment. 'Yes, you know her? She is with Melissan and the rest of us who are hoping to break the siege.'

Anomen could scarce believe it. Jaheira was supposed to be back in Suldanessellar with the others –with Fritha!

'Who else? Who is with her?'

Agwin frowned. 'Just her companions: Imoen, Minsc and Valygar.'

'All of them –what in Helm's name are they doing here?'

'Well, they came to find their friend and got trapped within like the rest of us.'

Anomen's stomach was suddenly so tight he thought he would be sick. 'Their friend… Not-'

'Fritha, her name was,' the lad offered casually, 'They thought she had perhaps come here with the rest of us Children.'

Anomen turned to gaze down at the distant torches, Simon's voice sounding just as far away.

'Then, the Lady Fritha is inside, as well?'

Anomen heard the lad shrug.

'I could not say. Your friends never found her.'

'What is going on here?' barked that strident voice; Sir Elquist had arrived, the man flanked by an entourage of squires and knights, the two commanders from Silver Chalice equally attended. 'I heard a spy had been caught.'

'No spy, sir,' offered Erick promptly, 'but a messenger from Saradush –his identity has been confirmed.'

Agwin nodded, eager as he finally felt he was nearing his purpose. 'Sir, I bring vital information. You cannot attack on the morrow, the leader of their army, the giant Yaga Shura, is invulnerable.'

'What nonsense is this?' the commander barked, those from the Silver Chalice looking little more convinced. Agwin was frowning once more.

'It is true; he has worked some magic upon himself that means he cannot be killed by mortal weapons. The Lady Melissan knows much of this and begs that you halt your attack until we can find some way to dispel it.'

'Such magics are impossible,' offered Sir Tavidad pompously, 'I have heard many rumours of such prowess attributed to men both great and small, and all in the end were split by a righteous blade.'

'Sir, this giant is no ordinary man; Melissan says he is one of the Children and that he has a power beyond any we have before seen.'

Tavidad raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'You have witnessed this?'

'Well, no,' Agwin faltered, 'the giant has not yet ventured from his own camp, but Melissan-'

The condescending sigh cut him off, Tavidad turning to enjoy better his fellows' agreement. 'See, it is all just rumour and hearsay.'

Agwin's face was growing pinker by the moment. 'It is not! Melissan knows about this. He cannot be harmed and Saradush will not open the gates to be slaughtered. Until Yaga Shura's protections are countered, you will get no aid from the city.'

Sir Elquist snorted. 'You will find no Bhaalspawn holds a power that with stand before those divinely blessed of Torm, Helm or any Gods of Light.'

'Sir,' offered Anomen, trying to ignore the slur, 'I feel we should perhaps listen to him.'

'He's right,' pressed Agwin urgently, 'You think we have no men of faith within the city? It will make no difference what gods you have with you. Have you no mages in your company? The few back in Saradush have had no luck, but perhaps-'

The Knight Commander did not let him finish. 'That will not be necessary. We will attack as planned and vanquish the tyrant -and let Saradush bear the name the City of Hundred Cowards, if it will not deign to aid our fight.'

Anomen felt his anger flare. 'But, Sir Elquist-'

'Sir Anomen, are you challenging my command?'

No, sir, merely your decision!'

Sir Elquist sent him a cool look. 'Your insolence is noted, sir, and will be mentioned to Sir Ryan upon our return. As for you, lad-'

'Agwin,' he interrupted pointedly. He was ignored.

'You will return with us to the war tent- I assume you were briefed of your city's defences and armaments before they sent you out here- we will discuss what help you can lend us.'

Anomen watched them go, a weight settling heavy in his stomach. Brieanna looked worried, Simon expressing his own reservations in out a long, drawn sigh, Erick shaking his dark head.

'Well, it is decided then. Anomen, I know you did not agree with the commander, but you should not question him so before others. I have no doubt he will make good on his promise to report you to Sir Ryan, and you have your career to think on.'

Anomen snorted darkly. 'And what will that matter if we are dead?'

He turned back to the city, his thoughts consumed by those he now knew were within, and of Fritha… Why did she have to leave Suldanessellar? And where on Toril was she now?

xxx

Imoen pressed her body into the stone battlements, willing her eyes to penetrate the grainy darkness as they scanned for some movement –some sign, the knights' encampment a cluster of twinkling lights upon the northern hills. She waited, not daring to blink, her eyes and the shadows playing tricks on her as clouds moved across the moon. A shape in the darkness; her imagination, or –and then the moonlight fell across that familiar auburn head.

'He's coming! Get ready on the rope!'

But she was not the only one to have noticed him, Agwin tearing across the plain, weaving and stumbling as the arrows whipped past him, men spilling from one of the enemy siege posts to make their pursuit. The lad was directly beneath her now, out of range of the arrows as he scrambled for the rope.

'Quick, haul him up!' she cried, Minsc and Valygar setting their backs to the task.

'Peace, Imoen,' soothed Melissan practically, 'he is safe now- their archers will be kept back by our own.'

'And will they keep back that?' Imoen snapped, throwing a hand out to the post, the small palisade illuminated in burning gold as the mage before it summoned his magics.

'Clear the battlements!' bellowed Jaheira, 'Fire on the walls!'

The surrounding guards were scattering, Melissan racing for the steps, Minsc and Valygar still heaving on the rope.

'Come on, Imoen!' shouted Jaheira, the girl ignoring her, an arm straining down towards that struggling figure.

'Agwin, hurry!'

'Go,' urged Valygar, with another heave, 'we'll catch you.'

'Incoming!' someone screamed.

Imoen felt the power surge through her with the word. 'No!'

The iridescent paling burst from her hands, shimmering oil-hued like a dragonfly's wing and spell met spell in an explosion of light, the shockwave of fire rippling outwards to dissipate into the night. For a moment there was silence, Imoen and the three men struggling to sit from where they had been sent sprawling, Valygar trying to extract himself from Minsc, Agwin panting as he gazed up at the serene, star-scattered sky.

'Whoa, Imoen, that was-'

'Never mind about that,' snapped Jaheira, dragging the lad to his feet, 'what did they say?'

Agwin snorted. 'A lot, but they didn't do much listening.'

'I knew it!'

'You told them about Yaga Shura?' pressed Melissan, 'That he cannot be killed.'

'Yes, but they didn't believe me,' Agwin shook his fiery head, the lights of the distant camp crowning him in amber. 'They're going to attack at dawn.'