AU Novelisation of Baldur's Gate. Part 2 of 3. Reunited, the two siblings find themselves somewhere else, lost but not alone. The second part of Left Behind, written back in September 2011.
The journey was uneventful until we neared the De'Arnise townhouse estates in the rich quarter; a night ambush, by the same slavers we had evaded leaving. Trying to bar our way, we rode them down, taking only two arrows: a glancing shot off Minsc's shoulder, and one firmly thudding into Korgan's shield. I doubt they expected us, but a less well-armed party? I shuddered.
Aerie's eyes were hard; she looked determined. I half wondered if we should return to finish the task, but Imoen's need was more pressing. We had wasted enough time. While guilt tried to deter me, I shook it aside roughly. Slavery had existed in Amn for centuries; could I, and a few companions, hope to put an end to it in one night? I was not a god yet.
I almost laughed bitterly. It had taken Sarevok years to built up what he had. With the use of gold, iron, arms, and a powerful father. I had none of these, not any more. Ruthless politics and lies had almost gained him a ducal seat; for a short time, he ruled an entire city. What had I to compare to that? A not even half finished fortress; the ruins of one. A lighthouse, a village. A bridge. Even that had been taken from me.
I wondered what the rest of my 'siblings' were doing. While I chased after Imoen, they would be gathering strength. I had not felt any fall since Sarevok, but he was one of the strongest; I had felt flickers, before the night Imoen left Candlekeep, but I had not known what they were. Now I did. I could feel it when one of us died; the rest of us grew more powerful. There had to be a way to stop it…
An idea, the beginnings of an idea, began to form. Imoen and our masked captor had been seized; the use of portals employed. Perhaps… perhaps I could find a way to portal to Nashkel, ride to the fortress. I winced; I was unused to riding, the trip there I had barely been aware of, but the trip back? Very much so.
Jaheira in her mercy had taken pity on all of us, even Nalia, a self-named rider. The balm was a bless not even Edwin could refuse. Jaheira rode as one born to the saddle; both gentle and firm with her mare, she made me feel painfully inadequate. My gelding and I had had words… and after many more such words, we reached an accord. He would not buck, and I would not withhold food.
Minsc was too large, even for the plough horse; Korgan looked comical on his pony, and Aerie was at once both ill at ease and natural on her mare, when she remembered to relax.
A wave of helpless frustration coursed through me; I did not even know if my gnolls still lived, what had become of my sirines, my xvarts, my wolves.
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