Arrow and her party found Bridgefort in a far worse state than they had left it. As they picked their way through more dead and wounded, the fort shook from magical missiles exploding off of the magical barriers. The wizard maintaining their defences had great black bags under his eyes. His face was pale and drawn but he dared not sleep. The Crusaders had scouts too. They must have realised that the Flaming Fist were close and ramped up the attacks, hoping to take the fort before reinforcements arrived.

"You're back!" cried Khalid urgently. He shoved weary guards aside as he pelted down the battlement steps toward them. There was a large dent in his breastplate, under which an ugly bruise would be blooming, and he sported a nasty gash down his face. "What did the Fist commanders decide?"

"We have their permission to negotiate a surrender," Arrow replied breathlessly. The defenders who were within earshot gave a weak cheer at this news. They were fatigued, losing and wanted it over.

"Thank the gods," Khalid sighed with relief, and pulled his daughter into a smiling hug. "I c- confess I did not think you had a hope of convincing them. I am so proud of you!"

"Thanks, but it was Skie's doing," admitted Arrow. "She persuaded the Captain and Freya. They were dead against surrender, but she took them off to one side. I don't know what she said to them but they came back and agreed to let us do this."

"I- I'll have the white f- flag raised right away," Khalid panted.

"No, not till first light," said Arrow. "The Fist don't trust the Crusaders not to attack us on our way out. They'll be waiting for us on the road outside the camp. If Caelar's forces do attack us, those of us who can fight will need to hold them off while the farmers and their kids run."

"Do not be afraid, small people!" boomed Minsc, who had a weak grasp on both numbers and reality. "The Crusaders will need to get past Minsc's sword if they are to harm you, and that will take time because Minsc has a very large sword."

"To die on a pile of the fallen corpses of my slaughtered enemies," rumbled Dorn, making Arrow wince. "There are worse ways to go, even if there are better causes."

Khalid nodded grimly. It hardly needed pointing out that in such a scenario they would be expected to lay down their lives so that the children trapped here could flee. It put a lot of pressure on tomorrow's talks. All of their lives depended on them.

"In that case we should t- t- t-urn in," he said. "I want to face these talks with a clear h- head."

Khalid went to curl up alone in the pantry, but Jaheira remained to tend to the wounded. She was the only person in the fort with healing spells left and was in for a busy night. The hardest part was having to balance who was in greatest need with who had the best chance of survival if she healed them. Inevitably it would mean leaving some sufferers to their fates and having to deal with their angry families afterward.

"Look, look!" screamed one of the children, picking something up from the window.

"Come away it's dangerous! Are you trying to get shot?" screeched his father, jerking out of an uneasy slumber.

"But it's food Dad!"

It was indeed. A harassed, dusty-looking chicken who had shuffled her way through the crusader camp avoiding the cooking pots. Imoen had far from mastered the art of flying (not a chicken specialty in any case) but with a long run up she had just managed to cross the moat. Then by gradual, exhausting degrees, she had flapped her way from window to window until she found one wide enough for poultry to squeeze through.

To the immense disappointment of the boy and his father, Jaheira was forced to point out that it was not a real chicken. She'd had experience with polymorphed chickens in the past, there was something in the body language that gave it away. In any case real chickens did not have pink crests.

Arrow screwed her eyes together as Jaheira removed the feathered necklace, hoping against hope that when she opened them Imoen would not be standing there. But of course she was. Jaheira's lips pressed together and her elfin eyes narrowed. Arrow watched the druid nervously. Now that she knew herself, it was clear to her that Jaheira did too.

"What are you doing here, child?" Jaheira asked coldly.

"Freya asked if you could take a look at this," said Imoen breathlessly, holding out Irenicus's fingernail. "She says it smells like the Hooded Man's. Could it be a spell component?"

"This could not have waited until after the blockade was lifted?" Jaheira replied, with a hint of a sneer, watching Imoen with unfriendly eyes. However, she immediately became distracted by the repugnant item in her hand. "What in Silvanus' name?" she breathed, turning it over and over. Arrow craned over her shoulder for a look. It was not a healthy nail, even for a detached one. The colour was a poisonous yellow-brown and half-split down the centre. There were lumps on the surface, as though it were very slowly bubbling. It did not look like something that ought to have come from a living creature.

"Gross," said Arrow pulling a face. Dynaheir took the offending fingernail and she and Jaheira pawed over it while Dorn and Minsc set out the bedrolls. Arrow noticed Imoen whisper a question in Minsc's ear. The berserker jerked his thumb down the narrow corridor where Khalid had gone to rest alone in the pantry. She slipped away from the magic users.

"It is not a hostile spell," Jaheira said, finally looking up. "But this definitely isn't natural."

"Thine stalker appears to have been cursed," agreed Dynaheir. "Perhaps his interest in Bhaal's children stems from a desire to lift it. How, I cannot say, but thine blood is powerful. Freya's perhaps more so. When gods create progeny some of their power is transferred to the offspring, they decide how much. Thy father may have favoured some of the mothers over others."

Yet they could not ask Arrow about her mother, as without their noticing, she was already gone. There would have been little she could tell them in any case. She remembered nothing at all of life before Candlekeep. The older children had been able to tell Gorion their names and those of their younger playmates, before he cast his spells to make them forget each other. Arowan had been a tiny, mousey thing, trying to hide under Sarevok's coat and sobbing for her mother.

They would have done better to ask Imoen. She was the last living person to see the Candlekeep Bhaalspawn together before their memories of each other were erased. It was also her first memory. She'd opened her eyes in a pink-lined box, marred by the stench of decay, and climbed slowly out of her own grave. The other children had been milling about, confused and disorientated. Some of them had been clutching their temples. Gorion had ignored their discomfort, he was so ecstatic to see his daughter revived, but she had not recognized him. Only then had he realised his mistake, that souls cannot be replaced, and that the chimera he had created was not his daughter. As his new, unwanted family watched on petrified he had laughed, torn his hair and screamed.

Imoen was attempting to hide in shadows to slip down the corridor unnoticed. It was certainly dark enough to pull off such a feat, but no amount of stealth could change the fact that it was also very narrow and a ranger was blocking her path, arms folded.

"Imoen, don't do it," said Arrow flatly.

"But you said-"

"I thought the Calishite man you were talking about was Rasaad," she sighed heavily. "This is ridiculous, you need to forget about Khalid."

Imoen took a deep breath.

"I can't forget him. I tried. I ran all the way to Baldur's Gate to try to forget him."

Arrow's eyes filled with pity. "That long?" she asked. Then she shook her head and said with certainty; "Imoen this is a mistake."

"It's my mistake!" the pink-haired girl replied defiantly. Her tone of voice, her expression and even her body language had all changed abruptly. She was standing taller, shoulders thrown back, her hand reaching toward her belt, as though for a scabbard that wasn't there. "Get out of my way!"

"Imoen?" Arrow cried, growing more concerned by the second.

Though nothing physically had changed it was as if someone else had taken over Imoen's body. The corridor was narrow and only dimly lit. Light from a distant torch reflected from the cold, damp stones. Arrow could see nothing obvious to account for her friend's peculiar behaviour. Yet just as suddenly, Imoen's stance and bearing shifted again and this next one seemed… familiar.

"No, puny ranger is right!" grunted Imoen, her voice suddenly dropping two octaves. "This stupid plan. Sleep now. Fight tomorrow."

The ranger knew who it sounded like, but why would Imoen imitate a dead Candlekeep Bhaalspawn? If it was a joke it was in extremely poor taste. Arrow gaped at her, perplexed, but then she remembered the vision Irenicus had sent. All the other Candlekeep Bhaalspawn had been there, and he had seemed determined to detach the pieces of Imoen's patchwork soul. It would seem that he was starting to succeed. Now that Imoen was under emotional pressure the cracks between the souls were beginning to show.

"Thorg?" Arrow asked, panicking. "Am I talking to Thorg?"

"Hey chill Arrow it's, like, all good," Imoen drawled, relaxing. A dreamy, mellow expression flickered over her face.

Then Imoen changed again. Her shoulders hunched a little, her bird-like arms crossed in front of her and her body language became very closed off. Even so, she rolled her eyes a little as she spoke.

"I agree with you, but then I would, wouldn't I?" Arrow heard her own glib voice emerge disconcertingly from Imoen's lips.

Then all at once the pink-haired girl flipped to the polar opposite. A cocky grin spread over her face, and she stood legs parted and arms wide, seeming to take up far more space than her size ought to allow. She said with a booming bark of a laugh; "Eh, you're right, it's a dumb idea but sod it, you only live once!"

"Freya's an idiot, don't listen to Freya!" cried Arrow frantically.

There was obviously a far bigger problem here than Imoen embarrassing herself in front of Khalid. Nevertheless, her strength of feeling for the married man was clearly exacerbating the damage Irenicus had done. If she actually went into his room and threw herself at him (something Arrow was certain that Imoen would not be doing in her normal state of mind) the inevitable rejection was sure to make things even worse.

"Stop it! Stop it Imoen! Please just come back to the hall with me," Arrow whispered urgently. She stroked Imoen's arm in a calming way, but the other woman looked mutinous. It was as if she would climb the walls to bypass Arrow if she needed to. "Minsc and Dynaheir can take you back to camp. It'll be ok. I promise."

"No, don't you see? This is true love." Imoen's eyes softened and her voice became gentler.

"Who am I talking to now… Draxle?" hazarded Arrow. All she really knew about the dead half-elf was that she had been one of Gorion's favourites along with Freya. A party-loving, ineffective warrior with romantic-idealism when it came to knights. Probably the worst of the twelve personalities that could float to the surface right now.

The door at the end of the corridor opened and Arrow's heart sank. It was Khalid. He was dressed only in a long white shirt and his ginger hair fell tousled around his sleepy face. As always he smiled to see them, but it was a weak smile and she got the impression that he was secretly desperate for them to go away so that he could rest before morning. He was far too good-natured to say so, however.

"Khalid, there's something wrong with Imoen," said Arrow. "Irenicus has been screwing with her brain, ignore anything she says- she doesn't really mean it!"

"But I do mean it!" Imoen cried, her voice sounding like her own now. "Khalid, I have to talk to you alone for a minute. Don't send me away, please!"

Eyes full of concern, Khalid held the door to the pantry open for her. Arrow was fairly sure he wouldn't have done if he'd had any notion of why she was there, but it was out of her hands. She had warned him about Imoen's mental state. Her father was not the sort of man who would ever dream of taking advantage even if he wanted to, and she was convinced that he didn't. She had never seen anyone so devoted as he was to Jaheira.

"Immy!" Arrow pleaded sadly as the other girl barged past her. She was about to go after her, ready to drag her back physically if necessary but as she looked up she saw Jaheira watching from the shadows. The druid caught Arrow's eye and silently shook her head.

So Arrow stood aside. What else could she do?

"This is all my fault!" Arrow fretted, when Imoen had closed the door. She was tugging at her short hair in distress. "I encouraged her to go for it, I told her sometimes people aren't right for each other. I thought she meant me and Rasaad, not you and Khalid!"

"It is not your fault. You can tell her that Khalid isn't interested until your tongue falls out from exhaustion but she won't accept it until she hears it from him," Jaheira said harshly. Her eyes were narrowed at the door. Arrow assumed that she intended to stand there to see what Khalid would do, but so complete was her faith in her husband that she shrugged and walked away.

They returned to the main barracks. Jaheira resumed tending to the casualties. Arrow crawled into her bedroll, trying to ignore Dorn's breath which she could smell from three feet away, and tried to sleep. She thought about Irenicus's fingernail and how the horrible thing must have spontaneously dropped off. It made her shudder, though she could not pity him.

In the pantry, Khalid had made himself a sort of nest in a blanket. There was no room to lie down properly and he had just been curling up when he heard the noises from outside. On the one hand he felt terrible for wishing this vulnerable young girl away. Yet on the other, the survival of everyone in Bridgefort including her rested on how he handled the negotiations come dawn. There were not many hours left.

"Sleeping alone?" asked Imoen.

"Indeed," Khalid replied pensively. "I've not had a p- p- proper rest in days and these negotiations are going to need handling with a c- clear head."

His hint, his very gentle hint, was that he would quite like Imoen to put off her questions for another time, but the girl simply smiled at him and loosed her hair. Remembering what Arrow had said about Irenicus interfering with her brain, Khalid mistakenly assumed that Imoen wanted him to examine her head for damage. Feeling that this job would be better suited to his wife, he strode over to her and put his head very close to hers, peering into her hairline.

"I don't see any d- d- damage – Mmmph!" Khalid let out a muffled cry of shock. Imoen's hands had flown behind his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. He was so startled that for a moment he failed to pull away as his mind tried to make sense of what the hells was happening. Her lips, soft but aggressive, moved over his own which were frozen.

He pulled back, horrified, jaw brushing the floor. Khalid looked left and right half-expecting, and desperately hoping, that Arrow and Jaheira were going to jump out from behind the shelves and tell him it was some sort of wind-up. When he looked back to Imoen, the girl had unlaced her tunic. It slid from her shoulders and onto the floor. She was not wearing anything underneath.

"I- Imoen!" Khalid squeaked in terror.

"You don't have to say anything," Imoen replied softly, slipping one arm over his shoulder so that her bare breasts pressed against his shirt. "Just stay with me tonight."

"N- n- n- n-" Khalid stammered, so alarmed that he could not even spit a two letter word out. Even were it not for Jaheira, Imoen was the same age as his adopted daughter! He had never looked at her in that way, not even a little.

The half-elf backed up into a small pantry table, until it dug uncomfortably into the back of his thighs. His eyes were darting in panic, desperately trying to think of a face-saving way to escape this situation.

"I- I see what Arrow m- m- meant!" he gasped, as the pink-haired girl advanced on him. "O- obviously you're very c- c- confused, but don't worry! We'll get my wife," (he laid a heavy emphasis on the word 'wife'), "to take a look at you and-"

"I only need you to look at me," Imoen insisted, pushing Khalid back so that he was sitting on the table and climbing topless onto his lap. She stroked his trembling chest and leaned down to kiss him again. The next second she felt pain shoot through her legs and hand. The half-elf had forcefully pushed her off him and she landed heavily on the stone floor of the pantry.

"Let me go!" Khalid's voice was suddenly raised. Arrow sat up in her bedroll and groaned. She had been silently petitioning Ilmater that Imoen would regain her senses and it would not come to this. "G- G- GET OFF ME! I'M MARRIED!"

He jumped over Imoen and fled the room, leaving his armour behind him. The commander of Bridgefort emerged, in only his shirt and in shock in the barracks, to a room full of people staring at him. Arrow felt almost as sorry for him as she did for Imoen. She detested being the centre of attention regardless of the reason, and it was hard to imagine a more mortifying situation. She got up and padded over.

"Must be something about gingers," the fatigued wizard defending the fort from incoming explosives muttered sourly, before refocussing what energies he had left.

"Sorry Dad I tried to talk her out of it," Arrow groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'd better go look after her. You take my bedroll."

"Um. C- c- c- could you g- get my c- clothes?" Khalid requested awkwardly. He was shaken and stammering far worse than usual. It was not a good sign for his negotiating the surrender. "I d- don't want to g- g- go back in there."

"I will get them," snapped Jaheira. Khalid looked at his wife with such guilty, pleading eyes that Arrow thought the poor man's head might explode from anxiety. She was nervous about what sort of state they would find Imoen in, and was not sure that Jaheira's input was likely to be constructive at this point. Yet after what had just happened there was no denying that the druid had a right to say her piece. They found Imoen crying on the floor, though fortunately she'd retained the presence of mind to put her tunic back on. Jaheira stepped around her angrily gathering her husband's belongings. She turned back at the door and asked harshly; "Do you see now? I have been very tolerant but this fantasy of yours has to end right now. From now on, you stay away from him, do you understand me?"

"Yes," Imoen wept.

Arrow crouched down beside the sobbing chimera. In Jaheira's place she might have made more allowances for Imoen's state of mind. A mad wizard had, after all, punctured a hole in her psyche. Still, she could not blame her parents for their reactions. There was nothing to do now but try to comfort Imoen and keep her out of the Harpers' way until they could escape from this wretched place. Luckily, thanks to Skie, it would not be long.

Back in the camp the army was being mobilized though not, as Khalid's little family supposed, with any intention of waiting peacefully on the road.

"Sergeant Candlekeep! Corporal Duncan!" Corwin barked.

"Sir?" her officers replied in unison.

"Assume your positions. It's time."

"Yes Sir."

Seven covered wagons were lined up at the front of the camp. The shire horses pulling them clomped their sturdy hooves and snorted impatiently. With a hollered order from Bence, the brown leather casings were pulled back to reveal four cart-mounted catapults and three ballistas.

There was a flurry of activity in the camp as the soldiers were called to form ranks. Those few who had been warned in advance to maintain secrecy, were moving to their tasks. Extra horses were being hitched to the siege weapons to pull them quickly. Boulders and giant bolts inscribed with magical runes were having the last activating incantations chanted over them before being loaded. They had to be ready to fire the instant they came within sight of the blockade.

Nobody packed anything, the entire camp, provisions and all, was to be abandoned. The crusaders were to have no warning of what was coming. All of the horses which were not pulling weapons were mounted by those trained to ride them.

The army was split into three divisions. The mounted warriors and archers, led by Corwin, went first, shooting down any crusader scouts or sentries they saw before they could warn the camp. Bence, accompanied by Skie, took command of the siege engines. They rumbled along far faster than their usual speed. The men operating them were pulling them back and priming them to fire even as the carts that carried them were still moving. It was a tricky and dangerous operation. A bump in the road might have caused any one of them to misfire, and launch their deadly load into the archers ahead.

Freya led the foot soldiers, who unusually were positioned to the rear. For Skie's plan to work the crusade must have no warning, and that meant that the ballistics had to launch the instant they were within sight of the camp. After the first round, Freya and the infantry would charge around them and storm Caelar's followers. For once, to Corwin's immense relief, the Hero was taking her situation seriously.

Dawn came and Khalid awoke, having managed a few hours sleep with help from some potions from his wife. The defenders raised a white flag over the battlements and the bombardment from the crusade immediately ceased. There was a bustle of activity and a great armoured warrior emerged from among their ranks to parley across the moat. Khalid hugged his wife and daughter for reassurance, then stepped onto the battlements.

"I am the Barghest. I have the honour of leading the Blinding White Battalion," the crusader commander grunted. "Who speaks for Bridgefort?"

Neither stammering father nor his charisma-lacking daughter had any confidence in public speaking and Khalid was turning noticeably pale. The Barghest spotted it and grinned threateningly.

"It's ok Khalid," Jaheira smiled encouragingly behind him. "You can do this."

"Yeah, you've got this Dad," added Arrow.

Khalid removed his helmet, letting his fiery hair stream in the breeze and took a deep breath.

"My n- name is Khalid," he said, successfully controlling his fear. In fact with his full plate armour and shock of red hair he cut quite a heroic figure, stutter non-withstanding. "I speak for Bridgefort. I'm prepared to surrender the keep to you, provided you let those within go free."

"You're hardly in a position to negotiate!" sneered the Barghest.

"A- a- a- a…" Khalid began. Arrow bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut. The crusaders were snickering at him. He squeezed his lips together and took a deep breath. "A- actually I think you'll find we are. Captain Corwin and her army are an hour's march away. They outnumber the B- Blinding White B- B- Battalion ten to one and they have the Hero of Baldur's Gate with them. Y- y- you are the ones in no position to n- n- negotiate!"

"Ah," the Barghest said delicately. "We were hoping you didn't know that."

"The defenders will leave their supplies behind," said Khalid. "I and my companions w- will retain our weapons. I mean to ensure the defenders s- safety."

"Very well," the Barghest agreed after a pause. "A fair deal for all I suppose, though I confess I relished the thought of a battle with the enemies of the Shining Lady. Perhaps another time."

"P- perhaps," replied Khalid.

The drawbridge rattled slowly down. Khalid tensed beside her, and Arrow could tell that he did not fully trust the crusaders to keep their word. A trickle of sweat ran down her own forehead. If the honour of this Barghest failed, there was nothing to prevent the Blinding White Battalion from slaughtering them all. As it rattled below eyelevel, they got a look at their enemy. There were a lot of them, but their weapons were sheathed and there were no magical shimmers to suggest that their mages had primed them for battle. That was a good sign.

Suddenly there was an almighty explosion. The acrid stench of smoke and dust filled her nose and stung her eyes. Rage and terror flooded through her. The bastards had betrayed them! They were going to murder the defenders and the innocent people in the fort. Her first arrow was already notched in her bow when she realised that the fire was in front of her and not behind.

"No…" she whispered horrified.

The crusaders were starting to turn around like befuddled ants. Some of them seemed to think that one of their own projectiles had exploded prematurely. Then a burning rune-ball came hurtling through the air. There were screams of panic as people scrambled to get out of its path and there was a second explosion, closer now. Dozens of crusaders were blasted in all directions, knocking their companions over as they struggled to flee.

"BASTARDS!" screamed the Barghest, rounding on them.

Arrow looked helplessly to Khalid, and the firelight flickering in his wide dark eyes. A muscle tightened in his jaw and he drew his sword.

"Raise the drawbridge!" Khalid ordered. "Pull it up!"

The word was passed to the men on the roof, but not quickly enough. Heavy armoured crusaders leaped onto the partially open drawbridge, weighing it down and sending it crashing the rest of the way to the ground.

Flaming Fist explosives were raining thick and fast now. The crusaders were completely unprepared. All of their heavy artillery was still aimed at Bridgefort and they were taking too long to turn them around. The commanders were hastily attempting to regroup them and form ranks, but the deafening explosions and blinding smoke was making this difficult. Their men could not hear them and many of the mercenaries were already fleeing in panic.

The wizard who had been maintaining the wards against siege weaponry hastily began to set them up again. The remaining defenders found themselves locked in a brutal battle for the entrance with the crusaders. Arrow could see their faces, their anger at having been double-crossed. There were hobgoblins among them and berserkers too. She would not bank on them holding back their rage from the farmers and children cowering behind the fort gates.

"Damn you Freya," she cried, and locked an arrow into her bow. She fired into the eye of one of the crusaders, through her helmet, as she charged across the bridge. It was an excellent shot, straight through the eyepiece of her helmet. The woman fell and was shoved unceremoniously from the drawbridge by her allies. She hit the water with a large splash, and her armour dragged her straight to the bottom of the moat.

Dorn expected the Ilmatari to curl up in a corner and sob, but having been forced to fight, the ranger was far more lethal than he would have believed. The only innocents in this were the Bridgefort defenders and the families they were guarding. She would not allow the crusaders to pass the drawbridge. Her next shot aimed high, and for a moment Dorn wondered what she was doing. She released the string with a twang and sent it over the heads of the first three rows of attackers.

A great explosion, similar to those raining down on the crusaders from the main Fist army shook the ground slightly. Arrow had sent one of Coran's arrows of detonation into the enemy ranks. It left a modest crater surrounded by a gruesome halo of blood and bodyless limbs.

"Ilmater forgive me," she whispered as she screwed her eyes shut and released a second, and a third.

Dorn was almost impressed. Perhaps there was hope for this daughter of Bhaal after all. He and Khalid also had their hands full. The frontline crusaders, undeterred by the carnage behind them, were putting up a reasonable fight. For all his apparent timidity, when it came to battle the stuttering half-elf was proving almost as lethal as his adopted daughter. He plunged his sword into a crusader's abdomen, kicked him into the lake to drown and moved seamlessly onto the next one.

There was only room to cross the bridge a few at a time, so Jaheira was hanging back behind Minsc. The berserker was having a grand time, hacking and slashing the evil enemy without a moral qualm in his head. In his own way, Dorn mused, the dullard's enjoyment of fighting and bloodshed was equal to his own. The only real difference was that the bald Rashemen had picked the opposite side. Jaheira, like the rest of her family, seemed to possess a ruthless streak when the occasion called for it. She was summoning vines that twisted about the crusader's ankles and dragged them into the moat, where the weight of their metal plated armour caused them to sink. Some succeeded in unbuckling it and swimming to shore, but without their mail and weapons they were no further use in the battle.

"Keep it down!" the wizard maintaining the wards was muttering frantically. "Another wizard is fighting me. I need to concentrate! Damn it! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!"

There was a thunderous explosion, as a vast sphere of tainted rock, glowing with malevolent magic struck the side of the fort. The few defenders left on the battlements died on impact but from the site where it struck cracks began to spread in the brickwork. From behind Jaheira's party came screams and the sound of tumbling rubble.

"The fort is falling down!" bellowed Khalid urgently. "Clear the bridge, it's the only way out!"

Self-preservation forgotten, the defenders began to hack and slash indiscriminately, forcing their way forward across the bridge and beyond. They had to clear room to allow the civilians behind them to escape the fort before it came crashing down on their heads. Arrow had no time or space to shoot and drew her little-used short sword. She was useless with it but there was no other option. Wailing children, carried or dragged by their parents were following them across the bridge. If all she could do was place herself between them and the Crusaders' swords then that would have to do.

Things were going better on the other side of the battlefield. Freya was turning out to be an effective commander and her officers morale was being boosted by her charismatic presence. In the chaos and smoke, the Hero's escaping golden hair whipped around. The obnoxious volume of her voice was serving her soldiers well in this situation, because unlike the crusader soldiers the Flaming Fist could actually hear their leader's commands.

The Barghest, who was locked in battle with Dorn and Khalid knew it was over when he saw her coming. She was alternating between using her twin bastard swords to cut down the Crusaders, and Sarevok's huge broadsword to disable their catapults. He also knew that surrender would be pointless. By this point Freya had a mixed reputation. She was humane in that she gave her enemies a quick and clean end, but once you crossed swords with her that end was more or less guaranteed. She would never make the mistake of allowing them to retreat and join forces with Caelar's main army.

The Barghest heaved his sword at Khalid who had to hunker under his buckler, and slammed Dorn back several paces with the flat of his shield. Dorn grinned eagerly, and lunged forward again tusks glinting. Freya was approaching now, flipping her right-hand sword around skilfully. She charged forward, as did Dorn and Khalid, like a pack of wolves descending on their prey. The Barghest fought to the bitter end, but against such numbers he had no real hope of landing a meaningful blow. The three of them cut him down, and Freya and Dorn both raised their swords for the killing blow. For a moment Arrow thought that they might actually fight each other for the honour. She was so furious with the werewolf that she half-hoped they would. Yet Freya graciously bowed Dorn on and let him deliver the final chop.

Her own party were following behind her. Viconia was priming her leader with as many defensive spells as she could summon so that Freya appeared to glow with a fuzzy blue aura. Edwin, who did not believe that there was a problem in the world that could not be fixed with fireballs was adding to the devastating carnage, helped by Baeloth who was watching the surfacers battle with the detached interest of a tourist. Rasaad was not contributing, but rather limping along behind. The dragon fire scars were hardening over his swollen legs leaving him near immobile.

"You must be Khalid!" Freya barked amicably, tossing her right-sword into her left hand and shaking both Khalid's and the blade he was carrying. "Excellent work keeping the fort standing. Just a few stragglers left to mop up now and I'd say we've won the day!"

"You n- never had any intention of surrendering!" Khalid retorted angrily growing red in the face. "There are ch- children in there, you gambled with all our l- l- lives!"

"Everyone is out!" Dynaheir cried, running up behind Khalid breathlessly. "Minsc and the defenders are protecting the farmers but though hast kept them out of danger. Thou art to be commended." She smiled at Khalid admiringly and Dorn even more so.

"See?" grinned Freya, gesturing to the human abattoir around her as though slaughter were a good thing. "It all worked out fine. It was Skie's idea. We were just planning to march in and raze the place to the ground, but this way the crusaders were facing the wrong way and hadn't even prepared their spells or quaffed their potions. We can't have had more than a dozen casualties on our side. Isn't she amazing?"

Arrow made to slap Freya. She raised her hand but it froze. She glared at it, and then at Freya's Red Wizard assuming that he had blocked the blow with magic. Edwin, however, merely shrugged. She tried again but her hand shuddered to a halt an inch from the werewolf's face.

"You can't do it," said Freya. "I can't either. Bits of our souls are tied together in Imoen, and she won't let us hurt each other. Believe me, it was not for lack of trying. That scumbag Eric was lucky I couldn't touch him myself."

Arrow made a shrill noise of overpowering, impotent fury. Nothing about Eric's stay in Freya's care could be described as 'lucky.' In fact it had further weakened him and contributed in no small way to his death. Freya might not have hurt him directly, but the abuse he suffered from her friends in the Flaming Fist more than compensated.

"Freya, you went along with Skie's stupid plan?" Arrow panted, getting a grip on herself.

"Which one?" asked Freya, sheepishly.

"They were both terrible! The attack on the crusader camp at least made military sense, even if it was evil, but bringing Imoen to Bridgefort so that she could make an idiot of herself in front of Khalid? Why Freya? Why would you do that? Imoen is supposed to be your friend!"

"Skie was... um... very persuasive." The werewolf at least had the decency to look ashamed of herself.

Arrow pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Please tell me you are not implying that you're sharing a bedroll with the Grand Duke's daughter," she groaned.

"Not implying, more sort of stating."

"You are an idiot."

"Yeah, probably, but Skie isn't!" Freya answered, with doggishly misplaced loyalty. Her voice remained calm but her hands were starting to tremble. Unconditional canine love directed at any human was going to be problematic. There were reasons that werewolves preferred to live in packs with each other. Yet in Skie's case, the semi-reciprocated romance coupled with approaching full moon was making her increasingly edgy.

"Perhaps the rivvil princess is less insipid than I thought," Viconia whispered to Edwin and Baeloth, who both nodded in agreement. "I begin to understand what our leader sees in her."

Arrow looked around at the bodies in horror. She had started to think of Skie almost as a friend. How badly she had misjudged her if she was capable of this. But then what about herself? Those arrows of detonation that Coran had given her. How many of the dead and dying writhing around her feet were her own work? A dozen at least. In the heat of battle it had been a logical decision- them or the people in the fort whom they were trying to kill. Yet now she was a mass murderer, every bit as bad as Freya.

"Did you know?" she asked Rasaad. To her relief the monk shook his head. She could not have born it if he had betrayed her as well.

"Thou art well meaning and a credit to your faith Ilmatari," said Dynaheir, as Minsc nodded in sage agreement. "But thine friend acted for the greater good."

Arrow bit her lip. She trusted Dynaheir's judgement and could not imagine Minsc ever aligning himself with evil. She would have to talk to Skie and discover why she had done this. If for no other reason than it would let her put off having to think about the people she had slain. As she watched a charred body twitch feebly, silent tears started tumbling down her face.