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.

– Blackcross & Taylor

Chasing the Dragon

Fritha had long ago stopped shivering. Her body was beyond a cold it was able to alleviate and it seemed to know it, too. Anomen was still seated next to her, staring blankly at his hands as though it was too much even to raise his head. They had not spoken since he had asked about the prophesy and her starring role. Brieanna had obviously given him the villain's exposition. Another unwilling glance to that cloak-covered body, and Fritha felt the cold misery threaten to swallow her whole. How could she be dead? It had only been moments ago they had all stood together in the library, and Fritha half expected the woman to arrive with the others, all breathless panic and-

'Fritha!'

The door next to them rolled back and the rush of cool air set her to uncontrollable shaking, she and Anomen struggling to their feet as Imoen bounded into the lamplight, Jaheira and Solaufein fast on her heels.

'Fritha, you are well. When you ran off like that…' The drow left his admonishment to be inferred, hand already at his throat to throw his cloak about her. The girl quickly sidestepped the sweep.

'No, no, Sola, it will only get yours wet, too.'

'And Anomen's fine, as well,' trilled Imoen, giddy in her relief and casting about them, 'So, where's -is that- Is that Brieanna?'

All eyes seemed to find the body at once, the stunned silence at last broken by Valygar's gruff demand. 'What happened here?'

A glance between the two witnesses. Anomen seemed to stare right through her. Fritha swallowed; the weight of guilt was almost choking. 'We… we have a lot to talk about.'

'Yes…' agreed Jaheira slowly, 'Here, Fritha, your bag.'

The feel of it was comforting even as the strap pressed wet clothes to her bristling skin, the bulging leather bag slick against her hip. 'As for what happened, I- I don't know all the details myself-'

Anomen's voice held a forced detachment, as though he was talking of another woman -as another man. 'Brieanna was not who we believed her to be. She was an acolyte of Bhaal come to infiltrate our group and lead us down a path that would see her god's resurrection. She planned to sacrifice me to further gain Fritha's trust.'

'By Silvanus…'

'She told me before,' he faltered, Fritha noting the eyes that refused to dart to her, 'before she died, that Melissan is also a member of her order, though the woman has strayed from their original calling and plans to use us to destroy her enemies that she may ascend in Bhaal's stead.'

The uproar about them seemed somehow muted.

'Melissan?' cried Imoen, 'I knew there was something off about her!'

'Yes, indeed,' agreed Valygar, 'but this?'

'You are sure this was not a lie to sow yet more chaos?' pressed Jaheira, starting Anomen from some private reverie.

'…Yes, I am sure. Brieanna promised me the truth. I believe she meant it.'

'Then, could it be,' supposed Jaheira, 'that Melissan is the last member of the Five?'

Solaufein was nodding slowly. 'That would certainly make sense. She was in contact with all of them. At the temple, we learnt that Yaga Shura only attacked Saradush after he discovered Imoen was there, and Melissan was one of the few people who could have given him such information.'

'Yes,' pondered Imoen, letting her own theories gain momentum, 'yes, and she arranged for the Bhaalspawn to meet in Amkethran, not to mention she's been leading us about since she met us. That was probably why she was so desperate for us to attack Sendai – getting that army out the way would have given Abazigal enough time to finish things here. We'd have had a war on our hands and enough Children chewed up during it to let her take over Bhaal's throne.' She sent a frown to the body, 'So Brie was with her, then.'

Anomen swelled. 'No! Brieanna was her enemy; she came only to protect Fritha!'

'Yeah, so we could raise Bhaal – great plan!'

'Imoen…' warned Valygar coolly. The girl snorted, but said no more, the silence forcing Fritha back to the fore.

'Right, well… right…' Her voice broke. It all felt so wrong. Brieanna was dead and everyone was just going to carry on like she wasn't her murderer. 'Well, whatever they have planned, time here is running out. We need to get on.'

'So,' ventured Imoen, all ponderous discomfort, 'are we going to leave her here?'

'No!' boomed Anomen. Fritha was ready for him.

'We will take her to the library; she deserves a proper burial.'

'Perhaps we can ask Shivistra if she has heard anything of this Amelyssan,' considered Jaheira.

'Yes, yes,' Fritha snapped; dead eyes were boring into her back, 'whatever you want, only let's go.'

They turned to leave, Anomen first with Jaheira and Imoen, Valygar and Minsc shielding the unhappy task from view with their bulk as they uncovered the body and carried the cloak and its burden between them. Solaufein dropped back to join Fritha at the rear, and she caught a glimpse of those fine silver eyes, full of the melancholy peace they usually bore, before the lantern was doused and the world was grey once more.

'Anomen –he knows.' It was not a question. Fritha sighed.

'Yes… He said he'd keep it to himself.'

'And how did he take the news?'

'Well enough. He didn't really say much. Just asked me about Bhaal and that was it. Brieanna had just died and, well…' She trailed off, ignoring the iron grip of his hand about her forearm, the pain liminal through that veil of guilt.

'Fritha, you did what you had to.'

'Yes… but I always seem to have to, don't I?'

Her cloak served well enough as stretcher, though Fritha was glad when they had arrived back at the library and it could be a shroud once more, Brieanna's body laid gently at the foot of the stairs and Anomen was left there with it, standing above in silent contemplation. The rest of them turned instinctively away, Shivistra polite enough to hold her questions for the time being. Fritha wondered if they would not have been a welcome distraction though, Jaheira seizing one sodden elbow.

'You need to change.'

'In to what?' Fritha sighed, 'My clothes are in my pack, back with the horse.'

'Fritha-'

'I'm fine – it's warm enough when I'm moving. Here, help me out of my boots, they weigh a tonne now they're waterlogged.'

The druid obliged her with much grumbling – her sandals did not provide anywhere near the same protection, but there was little else to be done, especially when speed was so crucial to their plans. The activity at least helped a sense of normality to return to the group as Fritha sat, clinging to the arms of the chair she was in, Minsc braced at the back, while the druid heaved at her squelching boot.

'Twist your foot more!'

'I'm trying!'

'Right,' Fritha huffed as she eventually straightened, feet feeling damp and strangely exposed in her sandals, 'We need to get on.' More eyes than hers glanced reluctantly to Anomen's back. 'Anomen, if you'd like to remain-'

'No,' he cut firmly, at last moving to join their uneven half circle, 'I will come.'

Jaheira sighed, somewhere between impatience and pity. 'Anomen-'

'I am not a child to be coddled!' he snapped loud enough to make them start, 'You think this is the first comrade I have lost?'

Fritha swallowed dryly. 'Right then. In light of recent events, we will change the groups; I believe you, Minsc, should instead accompany-'

The knight would not let her finish. 'The groups can stay as they are; you may need Minsc to break the fissure.'

At least the guilt-riddled anger kept her determined. 'And you may need help to break the seal! Minsc, you will join Anomen and the others. Understood?'

The Rashemi nodded once, Fritha's smile softening the previous bark to her orders.

'Good then, and –and take care, everyone.'

…

The way there had gone by without incident; it was making Solaufein nervous.

'Here,' hissed Jaheira, glancing up from the plans to gesture to the turning at their right, her face fine-boned and eldritch in the pale green werelight. 'The stores are marked along this one.'

Fritha nodded, taking the lead once more. The tunnel was wider than most they had travelled, large pools dotted here and there against the walls, polished jade mirrors in the murky light.

'Are you sure it's this tunnel?' hissed Fritha, 'I can't see any doors, only…' She gave the closest pool a disgruntled frown. 'Oh.'

'The way in,' considered Solaufein. 'Clever really, for it ensures only the salamanders can take the explosives with any ease – any fires sealed within in case of explosion.'

'I wonder if bringing them through the water will not ruin them, though,' offered the druid.

Fritha shrugged. 'I can't imagine it would, if they put them in there. I'll go,' she sighed, slipping off her sandals, 'I'm already wet anyway.'

Solaufein's protests remained silent; their situation demanded such sacrifices, the girl dropping her bag at her feet to take that single step over the edge. The dark water consumed her whole, and she was gone. A glance between the two left; Solaufein set to pacing, eyes darting back and forth along the silent tunnel. Moments crept by with the aching creep of a glacier's passage. Jaheira kept her peace for as long as she was able.

'Solaufein, please cease that. It is very distracting.'

'She has been gone too long.'

'No, she has not, and if you are going to be this fretful, then I suggest you volunteer yourself next time.'

'I cannot swim,' he admitted mulishly, 'But you-'

'If you think I am going to remove my armour each time-'

A choppy swell to the pool next to him, a muddy brown shape rippling within.

'She is back!'

Fritha broke the surface with a frantic gasp. 'Salamanders!'

Jaheira's staff was above her instantly, the girl hauled bodily from the pool with a strength he had not thought the druid possessed, and the pair just staggered clear as two lithe bodies coiled from the water to meet his blade. The fight was over before it had even begun. Behind him, Fritha was shivering again, water dripping from the tip of her nose as she struggled with her sandals. Solaufein took a flailing hand before she ended up back in the water.

'Be careful of your feet, the rocks are sharp.'

She did not look to him, eyes locked upon the pool behind her and the two heads that were bobbing in the bloody water.

'What did you find?' pressed Jaheira, 'Were there any explosives?'

Fritha shook her head, the water reflected in her eyes. 'No. It was a prison, only I don't think he was kept there, just brought to be… His body- the air stank of fish and blood and -and burning. He begged me to end it-'

'Fritha!'

The druid's snap seemed to rouse her, the girl frowning as she finally found them there. 'There was a man. He was one of the monks from the Amkethran monastery. He was near death, confused - he spoke like he knew me – said his mission had failed. I tried to save him, but… Then, those salamanders appeared from the next chamber.'

'Why is Balthazar sending monks here?' wondered Solaufein. Jaheira nodded.

'A good question, but one for another time. We need to try the next chamber; can you continue, Fritha?'

'Me? Yes, I'm fine,' she assured them, firm and utterly unconvincing. 'Nothing I haven't seen before. Come on, this one looks promising.'

She was correct, the girl emerging from the pool soon after entering to relate her find. Three more trips back and forth saw her hauled from the water once more to stand dripping between three sealed barrels of blackpowder, each keg the size of a large striped melon and just as heavy.

'I hope this is enough,' Fritha sniffed, mopping at her face and making a half-hearted attempt to wring out her hair. Jaheira hefted up a barrel, testing its weight.

'As do I – there is enough here to blow a hole in the wall of de'Arnise Keep.

'Well, we cannot carry any more, even if it is not,' reasoned Solaufein; he was keen to be off again. The man stooped for the closest barrel and Fritha caught up the last, setting it to her shoulder with a huff.

'The others should be in place now – we need to get going.'

…

Imoen crept up to the door, the others left behind, just about the last bend, to wait for her in the darkness. It felt as though hours had passed, though in reality it had barely been a quartet of one. Anomen was not speaking to anyone, Minsc and Valygar sharing his grim silence, and Imoen was almost glad to leave them; there was enough gloom in those tunnels for her.

The rune she wove hung bright in the air as the door rolled back, the salamander she'd revealed so stunned to find her there that, for an instant, both just stared at each other. A clawed hand whipped out – the trance was broken, the surge of magic so powerful the arrow found no skin to plant in as fires consumed his form. Footsteps rattled at her back. The men had jogged over to join her, Valygar's bow still in hand.

'Imoen, are you all right?'

'Yeah, fine,' she gasped, turning deliberately from the charred mess at her feet, 'it was just a surprise, is all.'

'Boo says more for it than you, yes?' smiled Minsc kindly.

'Come,' said Anomen, pushing past them to take the lead, 'we should keep moving.'

Onward into the bowels of that place they walked. Here and there, branching tunnels would provide a window on to the main chamber their passage coiled behind, red light from the forges giving the uneven walls a visceral look, their group swallowed within the intestines of some great beast.

'This way,' said Valygar, pointing to the tunnel to their right with the folded plans he held, the man taking the first steps into the darkness ahead. Anomen and Imoen called their werelights, opening the passage in white and yellow. Valygar watched the light flicker above the shoulder at his side.

'I often wondered about your lights -where they come from, I never cast one myself – no need as a student and since…. But I am still curious as why the colour's differ; why yours is yellow, while Jaheira's is green and Fritha's blue.'

Imoen shrugged, glad he was there to distract from her burgeoning fears. 'Couldn't tell you – perhaps it's something inside that colours the magic, though I'd have thought mine'd been pink if so..'

'Yellow then, for your cheerful disposition,' he chuckled, gaze still carefully trained on the tunnel before them and an arm was thrown suddenly out to halt her.

'Wait- up ahead.'

Voices raised in anger, some shrill, others hissing.

They crept as close as they dared, the group taking cover in the shadows as their tunnel opened on to another, where a knot of gnomes and salamanders argued fiercely in a small hollow just opposite. Imoen winced as the slap rang out. One of the three gnomes was knocked onto his back by the force of it, a salamander hissing madly as his fellow tried to wrestle him back. The gnomes were helping their friend to his feet, blood pouring from his purpled nose as he swore his revenge.

'Just you wait until Abazigal hears of this – you may think Draconis does not care, but the master here knows which of his servants are easier to replace!'

He shook off his friends, the three stalking up the tunnel behind and the salamanders lingered there only a moment longer before they took the same tunnel, and their own company was free to press on.

'Here, this one,' whispered Valygar, taking another turning to their right, the tunnel mouth that was there goal just a small orange portal at the passage's end. 'It is not far now. According to the plans there should be a large cavern just to our-'

He trailed off, Imoen's gasp spoke for them all. Next to them was the opening to the cavern he'd mentioned, but the simple plans made no mention of what it held within. This was no carved chamber of the gnomes, Imoen's werelight catching on the delicate spires of stalagmites, minerals within the rock tracing rich veins of yellow and blue. Stalactites hung from the distant roof, the pairs joining here and there to make elegant columns and the whole air of some fey grotto. There were crates and sacks of coal set here and there between the rock, the place a convenient store for the industry now not so far beneath them and it seemed the salamanders' attitudes were similar to men's about her, Valygar surveying these wonders with a practical eye.

'We can wait in here for the signal –there are plenty of places to hide while we do so.'

The signal: an official term for what was essentially the noise of the other's explosion, and Imoen was again overwhelmed by the madness of their plan – the girl unable to marry this fear to the fact her oldest friend seemed so sure of it.

'We should check we are in the correct tunnel before we commit ourselves,' offered Anomen bluntly, turned and back in the tunnel once more, leaving them no choice but to follow him.

At the long tunnel's end, the mouth out on to the main chamber grew larger with each step. Imoen was just a pace behind the knight, the red light casting him and the walls about them in a bloody glow that only heightened her sense of dread.

And then they were there, Valygar and Minsc pressed to the tunnel walls, she and Anomen crouched together in the mouth to take a closer look upon that infernal pit. The lakebed below was a hive of activity, the clang of metal and hissing steam carried to them on a miasma of smoke and sulphur. Below, were the thick pipes the plans had promised, the curved metal running a foot or so beneath them, bracketed to the chambers wall at regular intervals on its course to the large nexus of pipes and valves on a ledge but a few yards to their left, and the girl could almost sense the foreboding weight of that great iron seal just above their heads.

Imoen's ears pricked –another sound had joined the clamour and it was not of the cavern below. The rattle of harnesses – something armoured was moving along the tunnel behind, their shadows dancing on the tunnel wall of that last distant bend. Any moment they would round the curve and see them there, the storeroom too far back to reach in time.

All seemed to realise their course at once. Anomen rose first to no less than throw her onto the pipes below, the men scrambling out after to edge quickly along the metal. Minsc was last, the man's weight in addition to their own finally too much for the groaning brackets. Two gave way at once, the screws fired into the chamber. The pipes they had held sagged, metal groaning so loudly she was surprised the whole cavern had not whipped to the noise. Anomen was fighting to keep his footing on the creaking metal, Valygar throwing a hand out to haul him back and, at last the pipes settled once more, relieved smiles frozen to their faces as one by one they turned to see them.

Crowded into the tunnel mouth with crossbows trained stood a whole squad of salamanders.

…

Fritha stood in the shadow of the doorway, eyes narrowed in the bright light that streamed from the workshop beyond. The gnomes were continuing their work, unaware of the chaos about to erupt in the smooth run of their daily lives. They called to each other in friendly banter as they tinkered and fixed, and Fritha could have almost felt sorry for them - had not their craft been the construction of brutal war machines. Solaufein was pressed behind her, further into the shadows and so close she could feel his breathing stir her hair, Jaheira crouched similarly on the other side of the doorway.

'I see the fissure,' Fritha murmured, eyeing the crack along the cavern roof far above, 'but how in Hells do we get up there?'

'Those pipes,' whispered the drow, her focus changing to follow the metal ducts that ran from one side of the roof to the other, intersecting that pale scar, the lower half of the metal tubes set with fine mesh grills. 'They look to be part of the ventilation system we followed here. If we get to the highest floor, I can climb along and wedge the casks between the pipes and the fissure.'

'I think the gnomes might notice that.' Fritha opened the floor up to suggestions. 'Any way to get rid of them?'

'The plans show the lamps over the entire workshop are fuelled by coal-gas,' murmured Jaheira, parchment square in hand, 'and controlled by a central valve in the corner just…' She pointed to the wall next to the pair and the wheel that was just beyond it. 'If we could reach it, we could put the whole workshop in darkness. Though, given, we would have to get inside to do so.'

'Could you call a fog?' asked Solaufein.

'No, my magics work within Nature; the air down here is too warm, too inhibited.'

Fritha raked her gaze over the cavern, drawn back to the snaking pipes above and how they disappeared into the wall, burrowing down through the rock to surface again just above them. Light from the workshop lined a maintenance hatch in white-gold edging.

'I've an idea.'

The air swept about her face in constant, cool breeze, a gentle pressure at her back like an insistent friend. Her damp hair had been tugged across her shoulders, the finer tendrils blown ahead to dance along that wide tube. The polished bronze pipe was much duller inside, soot and dust covering the curving metal in a grimy film. The hatchway was just large enough for her head and shoulders, though the dry air was making her eyes water, her hand leaving the dusty rim to brush the tears aside. Below, Solaufein felt the shift in her weight, hands closing about her ankles.

'Fritha?' His voice held no strain even for the fact he was supporting her entire mass on his shoulders. 'Is it the right one?'

'Yes, it's the inflow.' Her voice echoed against the metal bluntly, like shouting into a bucket. 'Here, pass them up.'

Solaufein's cloak came first, the girl packing it roughly into the pipe before her, followed by most of the bandages Jaheira carried and all the blank pages Fritha had ripped from the back of her diary.

'Are you ready for the oil?' came the druid.

'Just a –yes, pass it up.'

Fritha groped upon the air, Jaheira taking her hand to place the large stone bottle within; spare lantern oil was one of the few things brought wherever they went. The liquid was pungent in such quantity, but not unpleasantly so, Fritha managing to spare her tunic as she emptied the bottle over the jumble of fabric and paper.

'There, take the bottle, I need both hands.'

Fritha was used to calling a blaze, much more effort going into coaxing that small flame from the tempestuous fits of magic within, though whether she needed to have bothered was debatable. Flames licked over the oil, consuming it with the hunger of a starving man, bright yellow leaves dull behind a veil of thick black smoke.

'It's done,' she coughed, drawing breath for the words and inadvertently inhaling a mouthful, 'here, let me down.'

Fritha ducked under the hatch, Solaufein gripping her ankles to steady her as she latched it closed once more. Jaheira was ready for her, hand outreached to help her leap down and together they pressed into the darkness of the chamber to wait. The baited anticipation, watching the first fine tendrils curl from the vents above as hope bloomed similarly in her stomach. From what she could see of those gnomes on the upper level, they smelt before they saw it, work left idle on benches as, one by one, they stopped to sniff the noisome air. It was really billowing now, great choking clouds pouring from the vents, the commotion on the upper levels not going unnoticed.

On the ground, a wide gnome whose bearing marked him as someone important glanced to the noise and nearly toppled off his stool.

'Gond's Fingers! What in-?'

His curse started the whole of the chamber, every pair of eyes suddenly swivelled and gawking at the caliginous clouds billowing above. Solaufein saw his chance, slipping though the doors to head for the heavy bronze wheel in the nearest corner.

'What in the Abyss is that?' continued the foreman, fear tainting the anger, 'That last tremor – I'll bet my wrench the pipes in the smelting room have ruptured!'

'Should we check the flow, Olan?'

'Can't hurt. Send- Oh, what now?' Olan cried, as the room was plunged into sudden darkness, his voice raised and carrying over the unnerved muttering about him. 'Right, evacuate the workshop – all levels! Foremen count off your teams! Come on, hurry now, I ain't staying down here to choke to death. All levels take the nearest exit tunnel, we will regroup in the dormitory –I'll speak to Bodulum,' he added more quietly, 'he can send a team of salamanders down here to checks the pipes, put those snakes to good use.'

Fritha and Jaheira pressed back from the door, the shadows swallowing them from view of the dozen gnomes who were marching from the ground floor, handkerchiefs and sleeves pressed to mouths and muting the low grumble. Fritha waited until the sound of their footsteps had faded completely, Jaheira providing the leg up to the hatchway and the pair danced hastily back as Fritha hooked her blade under the burning cloak and pulled the whole lot out again.

'There,' said Jaheira, hand batting the smoke from her face, 'it can burn out here -the ventilation system should clear what smoke is in the workshop.'

At her mention of the place, the lights within flared to life. Inside, Solaufein was re-locking the gas valve, Jaheira sending a frown to his watering eyes; the air certainly held a sting.

'You are all right?'

'Fine, the smoke is warm enough that the worst is still above us.'

Behind them, Fritha was taking in a complete view of the workshop, dread and thrill sharing her heart as she realised the sheer size of the operation they were fighting to bring down.

'Look at this place… Here,' she continued, finding herself before the rack of green glass globes, a pale waxed wick hanging limp from each like a rat's tail, 'Alchemist's fire -we can use one of these to help light the barrels.'

She took three in the end, laying them careful in the top of her bag before tripping over to the elevator, an open wooden platform that jutted from a tall frame, workings of cogs and counterweights towering to the roof. Jaheira was ready at the mechanism.

'Hold on to the rail.'

And with a jerk, they were off, the druid releasing the brake and the ground floor rushed away from them, three more tiers rattling slowly by until they reached the upper level.

It was much the same as the tiers below, the wooden floor stretching across a good quarter of the cavern and set with benches and shelves, tools discarded about them in the previous rush. Three tunnels lead off into caverns about them with no hint as to which the gnomes had left by. The ventilation pipes were just overhead, far out of reach of the gnomes and Fritha too, and only Jaheira was able to brush the metal with her fingertips. Fritha blinked past the sting to the air. The smoke up there had lingered, though as something she could only feel and smell rather than see.

Jaheira and Solaufein were busy preparing for his climb, the druid passing him a rope to wrap about his torso, while the woman set to tying the three barrels to the other end.

'There, secure?' she asked, at last. The drow tugged the rope and sent her a nod, Fritha already fishing through her pack for the glass globes she had just filched. It broke easily, Fritha cracking it like an egg to dribble the oil within over the waiting casks – the easiest way to light them without wicks.

Jaheira gave him a leg up, that load of oily barrels swinging beneath as Solaufein latched arms and legs about the smooth pipe and shimmed slowly from the safety of the platform. Though she had performed similar acrobatics herself in the past, Fritha could hardly bear to watch, the man dangling a hundred or more feet above the cavern floor, the barrels' shifting weight unbalancing his every move. At last, he was below the fissure, room enough above the pipe there for him to right himself as long as he remained stooped, and the drow clambered up to sit upon the pipe proper, a leg over either side.

'Wedge them in under the cement, Solaufein,' called Jaheira, 'As compact as you can.'

He raised a hand to acknowledge the order, the barrels hauled and lodged before him between pipe and hastily sealed roof, and he was wedging the last one in place when that growl bristled the back of her neck. A long blue snout was emerging from one of the tunnels below them; Draconis had arrived, brought there by the gnomes' complaints or his own intuition. Fritha dropped to a half crouch, she and Jaheira slowly edging back as the creature turned that narrow head back and forth, long tongue flickering between his front fangs as though he meant to sniff them out. Fritha swallowed, heel rasping against a discarded toolbox with another step back and yellow eyes snapped to them.

'He's seen us!'

He had not spotted the drow, however, and was clearly reluctant to use his fires and lay waste to yet another workroom. Sharp claws scratched deep into the wood as he sprang for the level below them. His upper body coiled up to find purchase on the tier they stood upon, jaws snapping and free clawed foot swiping at anything within reach to send benches and stools arcing over the edge.

The women fell back, Fritha in front with her sword while Jaheira was a step behind, her staff raised to guard them both. Claws swept for them, Jaheira knocking the foot up and Fritha sprang forward to sink her blade deep into the callused pad. Draconis snatched it back with a howl, angrily smashing a bench towards them. The pair jumped clear, but in differing directions, Jaheira now balanced at the tier's edge, those gleaming jaws closing upon her and Fritha was too far away to do anything but scream. 'Jaheira!'

Solaufein's cry started more than Draconis, that harnessed fury all summed in a word she did not know as the drow leapt from the pipe above, sword held downward like a spear to slice along the creature's right leg. Draconis whirled to the man, jaws wide and more than ready to take his retribution. Fritha thrust a hand into her bag; fire flared about the globe she'd snatched.

'Get down!'

She hurled the globe with all her might and flames exploded over the oil-soaked barrels, burning off the fuel to char the wood beneath. The black powder within was just awaiting that spark and they were suddenly forgotten, Draconis was scrabbling along the pipes, the metal brackets snapping from the roof under his weight. He reached the blaze, a clawed foot drew back for that last frantic swipe to knock them from the roof, when-

Fritha dived for the nearest bench. The explosion ripped over ahead, scattering stone and metal across the chamber, the dragon's roar echoing away from them as he plummeted into the cavern below.

And then, silence; no rush of air or change in pressure, the dust settling about them as though nothing had happened. Fritha straightened, slowly edging forward with the others to see the fissure above, a crater blown deep into the rock, but seemingly still intact, Draconis and their exit both hidden beneath a pile of rubble and pipes.

'Did it work?' she yelled; the explosion had left her momentarily deafened.

A deep rumble answered her, the stone above groaning as the fissure began to shift and crack. It began as a drip that swelled to a trickle, and the three backed slowly into the tunnel behind to watch the torrent force its way through that leering fissure. What had they done?

…

The ropes dug in to her wrists as Imoen fought to twist them free, her shoulders aching from where her hands had been roughly forced behind her back and tied there. The lakebed seemed even more vast once she was stood in it, the soft clay floor divided roughly into three areas, forges and kilns towards the seal end while the constructs the salamanders worked upon were lined opposite before a huge set of doors, lithe bodies paused in their labour to watch them pass.

The whole western side had been mined for clay, the man-deep pits they had left, the perfect prison, and Imoen fought to keep her footing on the slippery slope as they were forced down into the nearest. A few expressive hisses from the commander, and those working on the forges nearby slithered off, the bolder ones throwing sullen glances back to the guards who had dismissed them.

Imoen had not noticed it before, but now both were present, she could see distinct differences in the salamanders there. The majority of those who worked in the lakebed were smoother skinned, their vermillion scales holding a soft glimmer in the forge light, faces dominated by a blunt snout with small dark ridges running from their foreheads to half way down their long serpentine bodies. Unlike the eight guards who were lined above them now, with crossbows ready and trained. Their scales were somehow sharper, reflecting the light in harsh angles, dark stripes of black and brown either a part of or painted onto the dark red skin. From beneath their helms, crests of ornate spines fanned from about what she assumed were their ears, the ridges down their backs equally pointed. Imoen watched them watch her with a hiss of her own.

'I knew it! I knew this damn plan was suicide!'

Anomen met her rising panic with a stoic, black gaze. 'War demands sacrifice, Imoen.'

'Shut up!'

Valygar edged closer, thick arm pressed to her shoulder in the solid comfort only he could imbue. 'It will be all right, Imoen.'

Above, the guards had parted, the commander gliding to the pit's edge to cast over them with narrow red eyes.

'Yous wills tells us huay yous here.'

His voice was like air sucked through an old bellows, all wheezes and gasps. Imoen faltered, fighting the urge to shrink back and drawing strength from the presence behind her.

'We- we came to see Abazigal. The golem said-'

'Lies! Masters nos here.'

'Well, we didn't know that!' she snapped, angrily, 'Maybe Abazigal meant for us to meet his son. He sent us to help Bodulum and the gnomes.'

'Thens huay son nos tells us?'

'I don't know! We met Bodulum and he told us to go to the nexus. That's where you found us!'

A long pause, red eyes boring into her, and Imoen met then defiantly, body aching with willing him to believe her. The commander drew a breath, halting common hissed with a slow, deliberate emphasis.

'Huay yous here?'

'I told you! We came-'

A rumble from deep within the tunnels opposite cut her off. Imoen just checked her wince: the signal. The commander let the suspicious frown linger on her, a sharp hiss dismissing half his team, most probably to find the source. He turned back to them, the agonising slowness with which he moved and spoke making Imoen twitch. Another unintelligible hiss to the two guards standing at the top of the slope, the creatures advancing down into the pit as well, heavy iron spears lowered at Imoen and the man just behind her.

'What- what are you doing? Vals!'

'Yous both wills come,' hissed the commander. Minsc made a dive for the nearest guard.

'No! You will not take-!'

A heavy body caught the lunge before he made contact, Anomen physically barring his way as above crossbows were shouldered.

'Silence, Minsc, you help no one!'

Imoen took the first step, she and Valygar encouraged by prods and hisses up the slope once more to stand above the pit, Imoen left before the commander as the two guards took Valygar a pace or so further from the edge.

'Huay yous here?'

'I-' she faltered, glancing back and forth between the commander and Valygar. Imoen swallowed dryly, an imperceptible nod from the man confirming their course; her dread began to rise. 'I told you before, we-!'

A brutal swipe with a spear shaft brought the man to his knees.

'Vals!' she screamed, fighting with her bonds – if she could just loosen them a bit more! Cold red eyes were back and staring into hers.

'Huay yous here?'

'Stop it! I told you-'

But the commander was not listening, hissing his orders to the guards and together they hauled the kneeling man over to the abandoned forge just behind them. The anvil was a brown so dark it looked black, the surface scarred by the heat and impact that had seen the birth of countless weapons. Its weight had taken it at least an inch into the soft ground and Valygar's once powerful hand looked small and fragile as one guard unbound and pinned it there. The other creature hefted up a discarded hammer; Imoen felt the moan rise from her throat.

'No, not that! Please, not-'

Valygar kept his head down, refusing to torture her further. The commander let the moment drag on for an infinity, until-

'Huay yous here?'

'Please,' she choked, 'I told you-

A nod to the guard; the hammer raised.

'All right! I'll tell you, I'll tell you - Nooooo!'

Valygar's scream joined her own. The guards were hissing again, short staccato breaths that seemed to be laughter over the man who was now hunched before them, weakly cradling that mangled mess of bone and flesh. A last vicious jerk tore her hands free of the ropes, all the rage of her dark blood screaming for retribution.

'You-'

The commander whipped to her and stopped, every body in there suddenly frozen as they heard it far above them and, for an instant, Imoen was back in Candlekeep, stood upon the western ramparts and listening to the waves buffet and break against the cliffs below. And then it came, water tumbling from the precipice far above them to crash into the lakebed. That instant of distraction was all they needed. Imoen felt the magic explode from her, energy cracking from her freed hands to immolate the commander where he stood, while Valygar snatched that hammer from the gawking salamander to take his own revenge upon the guards, a scuffle behind finding the last two dragged into the pit to meet a brutal end.

Imoen readied another spell, letting the heat fade from her fingers when she realised there was no one left to fight. Across the lakebed salamanders were casting aside tools to flee the falling waters.

The upper seals were open – they were out of time.

…

The three scrambled along the tunnel, half-drowned and still in shock, Solaufein maintaining the vice grip on her wrist as he kept Fritha with him.

'Water?' she shrieked over its roar. Solaufein looked just as wild, leathers glistening wetly, tunic and trousers plastered to his lean frame.

'That cavern – it was not empty, it was another underground lake!'

Jaheira was already back at the plans, leaving dark spots on the parchment wherever her soaked fingers touched. 'We need to get higher – here, we take the next turning; that passage has a large elevator linking it to the tunnels above. Come on,' she urged, quickening her pace, 'the others are breaking the seal as we-!'

A furious roar from the cavern behind cut her off; Fritha translated for the group.

'Oh, bastards!'

They were off again, Jaheira taking the lead at dead run as they pounded down the curving passage, the scrape of clawed feet scrabbling after them.

At the end of the tunnel, a solid iron door swung into view. Fritha willed a body that had little left to give faster, out-striding even Solaufein. She reached the door in a skid that saw her hit the cool metal, throwing a hand up to trace the rune in blue and ignoring the pain in the wrist that had taken the brunt of the collision. The others arrived, panting, just as it was rolling back and the three leapt through. Fritha dismissed the rune to see it close again, her attention immediately upon the large pool at her feet. Jaheira was already a few paces from the door, urging them after her.

'Fritha, come on!'

'Just a moment.'

Fritha fished the last glass globe from her bag to hurl it against the wall, oil showering down to slick upon the water in a curdled black film. Next to her, Solaufein was tensed and ready to run, a hand twitching over her wrist as the water in the pool rose, displaced by something very heavy.

'Fritha…'

But wave of her hand set it alight, flames roaring across the surface, and they were off again, tearing down the tunnel, a howl just behind confirming Draconis had found her trap.

'Here,' gasped Jaheira from the lead, pointing to the turning mere paces ahead, 'the shaft is just-'

The three rounded the corner and skidded to an abrupt halt, suddenly transfixed by the shaft in which they stood, a network of ladders and wooden platforms weaving up to the distant mouth, while a large wooden crane ran almost to the top, poised and silent like a hunting heron.

'The elevator…' murmured Jaheira, 'it is not finished.'

'Plans,' gasped Fritha, the realisation choking her, 'they're just plans!'

'We can still make it!' snapped the druid, leaping up the first four rungs of the nearest ladder and Fritha scrambled after her.

The ladder was narrow and tightly runged, made for smaller folk than they, the wood slippery under wet hands and feet, and Fritha's haste was hardly helping. Behind, Solaufein was having much less trouble, and she had the impression he could have tripped up the frame faster than either of the women, the only thing keeping him there a desire to put something between her and the pit below.

The first platform was just above, Jaheira reaching down a hand to help her up the last few rungs. It was the only level not bolted into the walls and supported instead by two thick wooden trunks that were set into the rock below. Solaufein tripped gracefully up the last few steps, almost toppling backwards to his death as a tremor shook the shaft, so violent it felt as though the very rock was vibrating.

'What was that?' gasped Solaufein, 'Another earth tremor?'

'Presumably, the rest of the workshop caving in,' offered Jaheira from the next ladder, 'we don't have much time.'

It began as a sigh that grew, a building storm soughing through an autumn canopy. The drow eyed the shaft below them. 'That noise…'

'Climb!' yelled Jaheira.

It hit them in a roar, a torrent of water crashing into the shaft below, one of the supports instantly swept loose and taking half the platform with it.

'Solaufein!' The word left Fritha's mouth more croak than cry, the air forced from her chest as she threw herself to the fractured decking to snatch that flailing hand, her arm almost jarred from the socket. The waters boiled below him, the man struggling to find a hand hold and Fritha could only watch in horror as that shadow rippled closer. She screamed his name, the word lost to that roar as the creature's long lissom neck reared from the water, jaws wide to close about those dangling legs.

'No!'

A snap far above her, a grey blur streaking past her eyes to smash that yawning maw back into the churning waters. Solaufein had managed to find a hand hold, the man heaving himself back onto the platform with a grace few could have matched and Fritha was at last free to look up. Jaheira was high above her, still swinging on the rope where she had cut the crane's counterweight free, the druid letting go to drop neatly to the platform below.

'Come, we need to keep moving.'

Solaufein gestured to the ladder before them. Fritha laughed weakly.

'No, no, Sola, you first this time.'

…

'Vals… Oh, Vals, your hand!'

Imoen choked back the rising swell of tears, fingers extended but not daring to touch the crumpled mess he was holding to his chest, the man pale behind a fine sheen of sweat. About them, the lakebed had exploded in a cacophony of shrieks, the salamanders fleeing madly as water coursed from the precipice high above in two crashing torrents, spray hitting the forges to explode in clouds of steam and red hot metal. Draconis had done what they had feared; now all that was left was retreat.

Anomen took in everything he needed of the chaos in one sweep and whipped back with his conclusion. 'We must get back to the library now.'

Imoen had other priorities. 'Anomen, his hand- you have to-'

'It won't matter if Valygar's hand was tended or not, if we all drown!'

Imoen let the tears finally spill in her rage. 'You bastard!'

'Imoen,' murmured his voice behind, and the girl could not bear to turn and see that worn yet resolute frown, 'he's right.'

The knight left no more time for arguments. 'Exactly - now move!'

Weapons retrieved and they set out, Anomen at the fore with sword and shield, smashing away any creature who took too long to move from their path. The lakebed was beginning to fill, the once baked mud mixed to a fine slurry by the fleeing bodies. They were heading for the carved slope they had been led down, Anomen felling a salamander from their course with a vicious swing, the first man to set foot on that solid rock. Imoen charged up the slope after him, pausing just before the tunnel mouth with the knight to check on the men who followed behind, Minsc helping the limping Valygar. And there she stopped, the girl's gaze drawn up, transfixed by the great iron portal that loomed above them, a dark, sleeping eye. Something within her chest, oily and primal, stirred.

'The seal – We have to break the seal.'

'Are you mad?' yelled Anomen, 'The doors to the upper chambers are going to close soon! We'll be trapped down here!'

Imoen could not seem to tear her eyes away, the golden pipes glinting softly between two columns of shimmering water.

'There's still time. I could use a spell - freeze the pipes. The change in temperature-'

'Imoen, move!'

'No, I can- get off!' And suddenly she was up, thrown over Minsc's shoulder, her cries ignored as they pounded into the tunnel.

…

The passage was becoming wider with every frantic step, mouths to tunnels from all over the springs opening along that main artery to lead into that great glowing cavern. Solaufein reached the crossways first. The knot of tunnels mouths were ablaze, red light streaming from the main chamber with the confused screeching of the fleeing salamanders. Fritha skidded to a halt behind him.

'That noise…'

'This way!' panted Jaheira, turning into the tunnel next to them at a run.

'Wait! What about the others?'

'There!' pointed Solaufein, a hand thrown to the shapes that had just appeared further up the tunnel. Valygar was limping between Imoen and Minsc, the desperation of a cornered man echoing through Anomen's roar.

'Come on!'

Jaheira was halfway to them, Solaufein barely a step after her when he realised he was alone.

'Fritha?'

She was bathed in red, light from the chamber bringing the fire from every curl while far below them salamanders slithered in frantic retreat from the waters that cascaded from the very precipice they had once stood upon, though Fritha looked to neither, her gaze transfixed by the huge iron seal opposite.

'They didn't break it. It's still closed.' There was a determination to her face he did not like.

'Fritha, come, there is nothing we can do now.'

He tried to grab her; she shook him off.

'Go. I'll catch up to you. There's still time.'

'Fritha!'

'Go!' she snapped, the command punctuated with a shove that sent him staggering back and, in that instant, in the glow of the kilns, her eyes black stones that reflected no light, he looked upon the face of Murder. Slowly, Solaufein extended an open hand.

'Fritha, please… it is not worth your life.'

She stared at him, eyes meeting above the outstretched offering and he watched her gaze clear. 'Yes… all right.'

Her fingers reached forward only to whisper against his palm, inadvertently snatched away as she whirled to that deep growl.

'You!'

A man's shape moved across the light, a dark silhouette in tattered robes limping from the nearest tunnel to stand before the main chamber, a demon haloed in the fires of his Hell.

'Draconis.'

The word made him smile, his torn face twisting to show more teeth than should have been possible, his staff glowing in his hand. 'You think you have defeated us? This,' he flung his arms wide; the staff glowed brighter, 'means nothing while we still live! And this place -this place will be your tomb!'

He raised the staff; Fritha was faster.

'No!'

He had expected an attack, not a tackle, her weight hitting him full in the stomach and Solaufein watched with a sick twist of helpless horror as the pair plunged into the blistering red light.

…

Jaheira planted her staff, trying to keep her balance in the raging waters that coursed about her calves. A torrent was crashing from the tunnels either side to pour into the main cavern and taking the crumbling precipice with it. Minsc and Anomen were already gone, pounding ahead to the doors to catch them before they sealed, Valygar and Imoen pressing to join them, the girl shrill in her fear, a hand locked about the larger man's arm as she fought to keep her footing.

'Jaheira, come on!'

'You go, help hold the doors. I need to wait for the- Solaufein!' she cried, the drow tearing from the tunnel before her, 'Hurry! The doors will close soon! Where is Fritha?'

'She-'

The scream swelled to a rapid crescendo, the rush of noise and air hitting them like a whip crack and they ducked back from the edge on instinct as the serpentine streak of blue swept high above them, corkscrewing madly about the cavern roof, a blot of copper latched beneath his right wing and holding fast. Jaheira straightened to watch the creature wheel and dip out of sight.

'She didn't.'

…

Fritha kept low, eyes screwed shut and body locked about the writhing joint of flesh above. Her hands and knees were grazed bloody, grated by rough scales, another series of dizzying turns leaving her head spinning. She had known he wouldn't survive the fall from that height. She had known if they fell she would force his change. She just hadn't had a chance to give thought to how she'd get out of it.

The body under her made a sudden dip, muscles in her arms and legs screaming as she gripped tighter. They were banking sharply and with dawning horror she watched the rough wall swept closer. Fritha pressed in, trying to meld her form seamlessly to his, the cover of his wing sparing all but her right leg from the jagged cavern sides. Her scream sang out, the flesh torn from knee to ankle, the pooling blood slick against the leather of her sandal. Another turn like that and she'd be falling to her death, the idea making it hard to let go as one hand groped for her sword, her body braced for the jolt.

Light danced along the metal as she drew it, the blade alive, a red sliver of dusk sunlight and she drove it up with all her might, the sword stabbed quickly into the joint above. Draconis screeched, wheeling left and it was all she could do to hold on, sword still in hand and other locked about the bleeding shoulder. Her body was now hanging above, rather than below the creature and she found purchase between the two rows of undulating fins, that ran from neck to tail along his back, as he came out of the turn. For a moment, they soared together, high over the cavern, both catching their breath from the battles that had brought them there, Fritha in a better position to gather her surroundings now she was no longer upside down and clinging for her life. The seal was just below them, almost glowing in the forge-light, that golden nest of shining pipes coiled beneath. She raised her blade; it was now or never.

The creature's howl left her half deaf, Fritha staggering to her feet and to heave the blade from his spine with difficulty. He was falling under her, wings flapped feebly against the descent and she scrambled frantically along his back, his body a last grasped foothold for a leap towards their target. She misjudged the jump to hit the wall above, her body too frightened to be winded, every limb clawing against the rock for purchase as she slid downwards until her feet finally touched upon the thick iron rim.

A single heartbeat and then the crash she knew would come, so deep she felt it through the iron beneath her. The tortured shriek of twisting metal billowed outwards with a cloud of scolding steam, and the cavern echoed with the final screams of Draconis.

…

Solaufein did not even think. The rope was torn from his bag and thrown to Jaheira before he had realised. There was no pause to check she had even caught it, the end he held wrapped crossways about his torso to step from the precipice. That instant of stomach-plummeting freedom, the water sheeting from above blinding his descent, and all the while he braced for it. Any moment now…

The rope went taught with a spine-cracking jerk, his back wrenched and body smashed into the wall behind, and, for a moment, he dangled there. Fritha was just below him, faint and battered, standing on the seal rim he'd see her leap for and prayed she'd make, the girl grabbing his hand to guide him in as those above edged him lower. She tried a smile.

'I thought you drow are supposed to be graceful.'

Solaufein was torn between an embrace and just strangling her. Below, the seal was beginning to fail. The metal pipes were torn away by the crash and the water gushing through was the rest, iron petals peeled back from the budding hole as the pressure finally released, the air choked with steam, smoke and the cries of the drowning.

'Come!'

He did not wait for her, the girl pulled to him with force enough to make her gasp, arms locked instinctively about his neck as he leaned back and tugged the rope. Strong arms above began to haul them up, Solaufein walking the wall, the girl curled against his chest and doing her best to shelter his face from the water and rocks that cascaded about them. Imoen appeared over the edge holding Jaheira's staff.

'Hurry up, or there won't be anything left to haul you on to!'

They were within a few feet now. Jaheira did not wait any longer, her long arm scrabbling over the edge to haul first Fritha and then the drow up the last few steps. Valygar's chest was heaving, rope wrapped about his thick waist, the anchor that had pulled them to safety, while Fritha looked as though she would just fall to her knees in the churning waters. Solaufein caught her under the arms before she could. Imoen was already at her lover's arm and dragging him after her into the tunnel. Solaufein followed suit, forcing the girl's body along with his, Jaheira on her other side and carrying Fritha them between her.

The lower tunnel was up to his waist, limbs heavy in the dragging current as he tried to haul both himself and the girl at his side onwards, the waters subsiding as they moved further up the slope. Ahead, he could see the knot of light, Valygar lending his bulk to the cause with the other men, backs set and limbs braced against the doorframe to prevent that great iron door from rolling shut for good.

'Come on!' screamed Imoen, darting through the gap they'd left.

A last burst of speed, Fritha dragged after Solaufein and shoved through, he and Jaheira bounding in after her and with a single, shared leap, the three men jumped aside.

And silence, all panting in the darkness. Fritha was on her knees beneath them and shaking wildly, her hoarse gasps slowly giving way to a noise somewhere between laughter and sobbing. Solaufein crouched beside her, an arm about her trembling shoulders.

'It is all right, Fritha, there now, it is all right.'

'I know. I'm fine. It was too much,' she panted, a firm hand rubbing her sternum, 'There was just too much.'

'I do not know,' muttered Valygar weakly, 'from where I stood, it appeared to be just enough.'

Imoen gave a dry sob, faced buried against his chest to hide the tears. 'Oh, Vals.'

'Come on,' clucked Jaheira, too relieved even to attempt a scolding and taking Fritha under the arms to heave her upright, 'up you get. We'll all feel better under the sky once more.'

…

The library was empty, much to Imoen's anger.

'Ungrateful bitch, she could have helped! Dragon's have magic and- and-' The desperate tremble stole the last of her tirade, tears welling again as she glanced again to Valygar's mangled hand.

'Shush, Imoen, it is all right.'

Anomen's torment was more muted, the man standing over Brieanna's body, staring down at a woman he no longer knew. Minsc planted a heavy hand upon his shoulder.

'Come, good Anomen, we shall carry her out together.'

Up the stairs and through that great stone door, the further three tiers of Abazigal's tower richly furnished in Tethyran woods and Calimshite weaves. A bed chamber, kitchens and throne room were packed with treasures that would not have looked out of place at the Ducal Palace, all solid gold candlesticks and silver vases.

Outside, the sun was just a bright red sliver along the western horizon, the amber sky fading to a mournful grey and casting long shadows across the broken columns and crumbling rooms that bordered the large stone courtyard. Here and there, bleached bones were scattered, all that was left of the long plundered tombs that lined the southern wall, the statues of two woefully dilapidated lions on guard at each end. A long terrace had survived on the north side, once brightly-painted tiles now faded by sun and heat to washed out smudges of colour. Imoen knew what that felt like.

'Does anyone know where we are?' asked Valygar. Jaheira was already rooting through her bag.

'I think these ruins might be marked on the map.'

But it was not the map she produced, the woman finally drawing a large jar and thick wad of linen bandages from her bag, and Imoen moved away, unwilling to watch as Jaheira set to binding Valygar's hand.

Across the group, Solaufein was fussing similarly over Fritha, her hands, knees and face all bearing the grazes of her flight. One trouser leg was completely shredded below the knee, the calf beneath a mangled mess of grit and blood that the drow was attempting to clean, the man wincing with every reluctant hiss. Imoen tried to summon some sympathy – it would not come. She slumped wearily onto a fallen pillar.

'Let's just stay here tonight.'

'And what of our horse?' reminded Jaheira, 'I will not see the creature left without food or shelter.'

Imoen rolled her eyes; she cared more about that stupid pony than them. 'We'll be there in the morning. I don't-' A shadow rippled over the courtyard. Imoen felt the panic hit her throat. 'Everyone, hide!'

They scattered just before it hit, fire exploding across the cracked stonework. Valygar grabbed her, diving into the nearby remains of a room, the pair running forward to duck under the ruins of a large window, its shutters long rotted away and affording them a clear view of the courtyard beyond. And there, in the fading amber sky, it looped and dipped, the rich blue body lustrous in the dying light, like the deep blue glaze of the fine Eastern porcelains.

'Abazigal?' Imoen breathed, eyes locked on the rolling form, 'He came here? He actually came here?'

'Perhaps he felt something,' offered Valygar, the man hastily trying to secure his bandages, 'his magic built this place; perhaps he sensed it fall.'

'But you heard Shivistra: he won't risk fighting another Bhaalspawn. He'll just fly- What the- Fritha?'

'Abazigal!' Fritha watched the shape above pause, great wings keeping a slow, steady beat as he reared back to regard her. It felt so good to shout again, really boom something from deep within her lungs after the desperate whispering of that pit. The Fates had sent her a gift, if she could just seize it. Her body felt tense under her, the pain that had been so permeating before fading into the background, a noise she could not quite place. 'Creature, I have come for you!'

If he had not taken the time to roar, the fire would have caught her. Fritha dived for the shelter of a lion statue and did not wait for him to find her there, tearing through the ruin of a room where Jaheira and Minsc had found refuge. Her leg felt cold and wet, chest burning where lungs winded from her previous fall screamed for breath. The druid was beckoning to her frantically, while Minsc looked torn between doing the same, and coming out there with her as she stepped from between two broken columns.

'Pathetic creature! Your own kind shuns you as a mongrel and how right they are! Even the draconic carved above your door is spelt wrong!'

That was closer, the scent of charred brick following her into the covered walkway. His roar echoed against the stone, a shockwave across the desert. Fritha kept low, racing up the crumbling steps to appear on the terrace above.

'And Bhaal does not want you either! Do you recall the camp you destroyed in Tethyr? I was there. The instant you arrived I was to be executed, mere moments from death. But They would not let it happen. The Fates are with me, Abazigal, and they are not without humour; they sent you to my rescue.'

She leapt down, landing heavily in a crouch as fire consumed the terrace. He was lower now, hovering over her, smoke boiling from his nostrils. His fires were spent, and she could see hatred being weighed against survival in those malevolent yellow eyes. It was time to tip the scales.

'Look! Look upon what I have wrought here! Your slave is fled, your army destroyed and your son is dead! He died screaming your name – begging you for aid! But you a coward who hides behind his child! Draconis is gone now, mongrel; who is left to die for you?'

The roar shook the very ruins. Fritha raced back to shelter under the half-fallen gatehouse, Abazigal's vengeance bringing him to her as he swept down to fill the courtyard.

'You will die here, mortal!'

Across the ruins, allies arose, their weapons ready. Fritha drew her sword.

'The Fates say otherwise.'

The creature was much larger than his son had been, thicker about that azure body, though the long neck and tail were the same, wings spread wide to block the low sun. They moved slowly to surround him; the creature waited, both groups tensed for the first move. It came in an explosion of magic. Imoen hurled a bolt of fierce light towards the creature, the energy ricocheting off that thick blue hide to leave only a scorch. Abazigal observed the burn with a throaty chuckle; the sound made Fritha's skin prickle.

'Anomen, Minsc, left flank! Imoen-'

The dragon's bellow trembled through the stone about them, the scattered bones reforming at his call, a half dozen, half-made figures doing their best to stagger, limp and crawl for the astounded Imoen.

'Vals!'

But it was not the ranger who answered her. Jaheira broke from their line, racing back to take the skull from the nearest, while Imoen blasted another with a similar bolt of light.

About Abazigal, the others pressed the fight. Anomen and Valygar were paired, the knight and his shield providing protection for them both, the two fighting with Minsc at Abazigal's head while Fritha and Solaufein tried to outflank the creature, but to little avail. Beating wings and tail had surrounded him with a constant storm of dust and rubble that hid well the sharp claws.

His tail whipped out, the nearest lion statue exploding in a hail of shrapnel and Valygar and Anomen dove apart, the ranger finally leaving the protection of that shield as they hit the stone tiles. Abazigal snaked his head in low, making to crush him while he had the chance and Minsc leapt between them. The great sword bit deep, the ranger's swing cleaving lip to nostril to shower both man and dragon in blood. Abazigal reared back, howl joining the roar of fracturing stone as his temper was vented upon the ruins about them.

Fritha dived behind a fallen column, debating an attack during this distraction and immediately reconsidering, Solaufein's attempt to charge closer seeing the drow ducking that thrashing tail by a hair's breadth. The other men were across the courtyard, on their feet once more and regrouping for the next attack. Abazigal watched them, both groups calculating their next move as the men spread out once more. Fritha hurdled the column before her, a nod to Solaufein as the man marked a gesture to the creature's back legs in silent coordination of their next attack.

The dragon had decided his move too. Abazigal reared up, huge underbelly expanding and she braced for the roar, the silence that followed somehow accentuated by the fine tendrils of smoke that coiled from his nostrils. Fritha realised what was coming an instant too late.

'Fall back! Fall-'

Fritha dived back over the column behind her. The men scattered in time, but only just, fires missing them, though the backlash of hot air knocked any still on their feet to the ground. The group were sprawled and scattered about him, Abazigal looming over all with the smug air of one who had time to enjoy this, his head coiling down to snatch Anomen in his jaws. The man instantly snapped from his daze, mace smashed into his wounded nose to see him dropped again.

Anomen landed, winded, on the stone beneath, Solaufein racing in to stab deep into the creature's neck. The blade barely had a chance to bite. That sinuous length whipped back to send the drow flying. Valygar dived in to attack his opposite flank and a claw swipe knocked him flat. He rolled just in time to miss the following stamp, Fritha scrambling to help him when a cry behind drawing her attention back. Jaheira and Imoen were both pinned in the ruins of a small room, skeletons being felled only to rise again but moments after, as the pair were slowly overwhelmed.

Fritha felt frozen, every limb trembling with the knowledge she had called this death upon them all. And then, through guilt and fear, there it was, rising above her, a broken tooth that teetered upon upper terrace, loosed by the dragon's thrashing and haloed in red from the sinking sun.

'Minsc!'

The Rashemi whipped from her to the fracture column and she saw the understand flash in his leap, the man suddenly up and tearing for the stairs. Abazigal jerked to the movement, Fritha diving in to catch those yellow eyes, her scream ricocheting against the stone about them.

'Come on then! This all you have, godspawn? Ha! Draconis never stood a chance if you sired him!'

The others were still struggling to their feet, Abazigal ignoring all but the girl before him, wild-eyed and screaming threats like she had nothing left to lose. The lithe neck reared up, smoke billowing from his engorged nostrils; Fritha braced herself and refused to look up.

'Come on!'

The grind of stone and she could hold her gaze steady no longer. On the terrace, Minsc staggering back, the pillar he had thrown his weight to teetering there. It hung for an instant, a broken column of stone broader than the man himself, to plunge over the edge. Abazigal whipped about just in time, fires lost in a smoky gasp, his attempt to scramble back in vain. A sickening crunch as it broke across his neck, his head brought down with it to hit the stone in a puff of smoke, tongue lolling from those bloody jaws but a few yards from her feet.

Fritha swayed, a tremble of laughter escaping her lips.

'Sola?'

And the drow was ready as she keeled backwards into his arms.

…

How nice to be dry again, the cold winds tearing at her tunic and hair, rippling across the cloth and throwing each curling tress before her like the trailing streamers the knights would tie upon their lances for the Midsummer tournaments. She heaved the wealth of hair back from her face, casting about for her usual companion.

'Sarevok?'

'He's not here.'

Fritha whipped back, hair left to the mercy of the winds once more, that voice all too familiar to her, and there she was, her macabre twin, the tempest doing nothing to disturb the neat arrangement of curls that fell about her waxy, grey face, the girl's features a lifeless mirror to her own: the Instinct.

Fritha frowned. 'Where is Sarevok?'

'Indisposed. The Essence is keeping him busy for a time.' An image behind her eyes of that great man, panting wildly as he hared his bulk across the tiled plane, the monster just as worn out upon his heels and Fritha tried not to laugh. 'We decided it was time we had a talk to you away from your brother's influence.'

Fritha shrugged, already returned to more important matters and fighting to tie back her hair. 'Fair enough then, talk away.'

Her blasé attitude seemed only to rile the girl, neat mane of curls tossed back, every point stabbed with a bony grey finger.

'You may think you have tamed us, but we will not sit by and watch you throw everything away! We know what you are planning. You think you can deny your fate, and perhaps you can. But you cannot deny your heart, Fritha. We are inside you. Instinct and Essence are the names you have given us and these are the forms we take, but do not be fooled. We are not something separate, we are in you, in blood and bone and every beat of your rotten little heart!'

The girl's face twisted with a delighted sneer that revealed that rotten heart for all to see –Fritha made a note never to pull that face herself.

'You could feel it, couldn't you?' the Instinct pressed, eyes alight as she leaned in, 'you felt it when you sent that dragon soaring down to his end. There is a power within you, one so large it could swallow you and all you love in a heartbeat. Embrace it, embrace us and you will become more powerful than you could ever imagine.' The sly smile twitched. 'Enough even to save them. Abazigal is dead, but at what cost? Brieanna is gone, and Valygar will never again lift a bow.'

Ooo, a low blow; Fritha let anger and guilt fight each other to a cold truce.

'That was their choice. If I succumb to you to spare them now, I will only destroy them later when they are forced to take arms against the foulness I've become.'

The girl looked as though she wanted to grab her in her rage. 'You cannot deny who you are! I threw us at Draconis! It was the Essence who coursed through you as you yelled taunts to Abazigal! We are in your every breath!'

'Perhaps…' Fritha admitted finally, 'but you are mine to control, and that is how it will stay.'

She made to turn away, the softer tone halting her.

'You miss us, don't you? You miss talking to me.'

The girl looked sad, and Fritha felt it, the loneliness that had never been far away since her soul had been returned and she had, at last, lost her oldest friend– and perhaps the girl felt it too.

'Yes. You understand, without me having to explain. It was nice.'

'I could come back, if you want? Talk to you again, like before when you were young, when Gorion had stolen you away and there was no one else.'

Fritha was almost tempted. But this was not the voice she had chatted to in those long, lonely hours in Candlekeep, in the days before Imoen had come and shown her what true friendship was. Fritha watched her, the girl looking melancholy even for a corpse; perhaps it was another trick, another way to worm in and manipulate her, but in that moment, Fritha liked to believe it wasn't.

'No, I don't think so.' She went to turn again, the words leaving her in a confusion of regrets, 'I- thank you – for before. I wouldn't have survived the Underdark without you. But we can't go back there… Goodbye.'

Fritha turned and closed her eyes, face titled to that boiling sky, the cries following her as she made to surface.

'You will never tame the power without us! We're inside you! Bhaal will come and He will consume you!'