"No."
"Why not?" demanded Yoshimo, snapping the diary shut. "We both know that Draxle had a lucky escape. Ajantis would have been doing the poor girl no favours by bringing her back, only to die at the hands of Irenicus."
"You think we won't die at his hands if we disrupt his precious ritual?" retorted Arowan.
"Not if he agrees to it in advance!" the thief insisted.
Arowan was staring at him wide-eyed as though he had suggested that they assault the mage's compound themselves. Surely their best chance of survival was Irenicus finding a substitute then not bothering to come after them. As far as she was concerned, deliberately courting his attention was little short of lunacy.
"Have you gone mad?" she demanded. "He'll torture you just for asking!"
"Of course he won't," Yoshimo told her, eagerly. "Because in a sense he is facing the same problem that you are! If Eric refuses to come, then he is stuck with using you."
"Thanks for that," muttered Arowan. "Real vote of confidence there."
It was true though. She was not like the Hero of Baldur's Gate or the Scourge of Baeloth's Pits. Irenicus may not have laid out his complex plans in front of her, but if there was one thing that he had made abundantly clear, it was that not all Bhaalspawn were equal. She was among the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of minor Bhaalspawn. Those with only a little flame of their father's essence. The pillars of mediocrity on which the Cult of Bhaal's great plan was built.
Whereas for his purposes, Irenicus coveted the most powerful Bhaalspawn he could get.
"Listen," Yoshimo tried to reason with her, "There are three Bhaalspawn we know of who were substantially more powerful than all the others. Freya, Eric and Sarevok. Irenicus captured Eric and Freya in turn. But he never thought of Sarevok."
"Only because Sarevok died before Irenicus knew he was a Bhaalspawn!"
"Exactly! Only, thanks to our friend Bubbles, death is not the barrier it once was, yes?" he went on. "This solution works for everybody. Irenicus gets a powerful Bhaalspawn. Eric can stay hiding in the Abyss waiting to become a god… and you are off the hook."
"It won't suit Sarevok," she replied, snatching the diary from him and jabbing her finger at her dead brother's name. "He has no more cause to come back than Eric does."
Of course, Sarevok and Freya were not as clever as Eric. They might find it harder to resist the mage's 'invitation.' Arowan shook her head to rid herself of the thought. It was immoral, unthinkable! Sacrificing another to save herself was the sort of thing that Viconia would do.
Once more the grinning face of the lipless wolf loomed in Arowan's mind. It shivered in pain, fear and utter hopelessness as it realised that what had just happened to it was irreversible. She tried never to think about Freya's final moments, but when she did her terror could not be overstated. First time around she had been unable to bring herself to face Irenicus without numbing potions, even for Khalid and Jaheira. Was she prepared to face it now to spare Sarevok?
Deep down she knew the answer.
"Sarevok never knew Irenicus," Yoshimo pointed out. "I mean not really. All he knows is that Irenicus wants something with the Bhaalspawn, so that's what we'll tell him. Irenicus can open a connection and offer Sarevok his life back in return for his… ah… assistance."
"You assume he doesn't know about the mage's little experiments," Arowan replied dryly. "The dead Bhaalspawn know things we don't. Sarevok knew about the Servant of all Faiths after his death. I got the impression that he even knows what she is for."
"Did he strike you as omniscient?" Yoshimo asked. She thought about this, then shook her head. He watched a brown lock of escaped hair wave as she did so, then pushed it gently behind her ear. "Even the individual gods do not know everything, so he can't. If he knows about Viconia then someone down there must have told him something."
Sarevok had mentioned something about the other Bhaalspawn waiting in the Abyss, and a creature named Cespenar. Any one of them might have known more about the Servant of all Faiths than they did.
"Someone down there may have told him about Irenicus too," she said, determined to find a flaw in Yoshimo's plan that would make it unworkable.
"Who's going to tell him? Freya?" Yoshimo demanded, rising from the branches that were invading this abandoned room and folding his arms. "You told me that she feels the same way about Sarevok that I do about her. What do you imagine? That the two of them are chatting away over tea and crumpets down there?"
Arowan knew that unless she could find some means to rid herself of Bhaal's taint she too would one day descend to the Abyss. If Freya was correct (and all the evidence pointed that way) then when the last Bhaalspawn died, they would all merge again to form the Lord of Murder. Normally she tried not to think about that either, for fear of it driving her insane, but now she let herself speculate on life in the abyssal waiting room.
"Not a chance," she admitted. "If I know Freya at all, then the Abyss will be a lot less 'boring' for Sarevok now that she's in it too. She'll seek him out, but not for conversation. He'd probably risk anything to get away from her."
"Then for Ilmater's sake, let us take this diary and show it to Irenicus!" Yoshimo pressed. "Arowan, this solves our problem."
"Don't bring Ilmater's name into this!" she cried, forgetting that the others might overhear. "We both know that this is wrong!"
The thief made an impatient noise and paced the room back and forth. Here was the sticking point, and the main reason he had not suggested using Freya. Arowan's excessive morality. He kept one eye on the door, waiting to see if her outburst would attract the rest of their party before saying anything else. Finally, he crossed the room to where Arowan was watching him stubbornly. He grasped her shoulders in both hands, earnestly trying to talk some sense into her.
"Crazy lady! Are we worrying about poor little Sarevok now?" he blasted. "A man so egotistical that merely being part of a god wasn't enough for him? A man who was ready to slaughter thousands to achieve ascendancy in his own right, and who sacrificed my sister in the process!"
"What about Bubbles?" Arowan countered. "You're forgetting her! She might not have killed Ajantis for insulting her in his diary, but had he succeeded in disrupting her ritual, she'd have eviscerated him cert and sure! Irenicus may agree to your plan, but she certainly won't."
"What Bubbles doesn't know won't kill her!" he replied. Then he cocked his head to one side, letting his black ponytail flop onto his shoulder. "Actually… I suppose it will. Failing to bring Eric back will break her geas. She'll die."
"That's murder, Yoshimo, how can you even be considering this?" Arowan whimpered.
"Bubbles can't retaliate if she's dead," the thief answered firmly.
Arowan looked appalled. She had been hoping, of course she had been hoping, that Eric would be dragged back from the Abyss so that Irenicus would lose interest in her again. How could she not want that? She was only human. Yet that had not required any direct action on her part. This was different.
"Bubbles is a necromancer, don't forget that," Yoshimo reminded her darkly. "We've seen her kill mercilessly when those duergar got in her way. She didn't think twice about sacrificing all those Shadow Thieves to break into Irenicus's compound. We're not talking about doing anything to her that she wouldn't do to us. If it helps, don't think of it as sacrificing Sarevok. Think of it as saving Eric."
"Eric probably couldn't be brought back anyway. That's a weak argument," replied Arowan, but she was wavering.
"If you're right and Eric can't be revived, then Bubbles will die either way," Yoshimo shrugged. "As for Sarevok, he was worse than Eric. Eric did what he did out of cowardice, to save himself from eternal pain. Sarevok was greedy for power and he was willing to start a war that would have killed thousands for the chance to get it. One of those two will become part of a god. Think of that! Which should it be? Eric? Or Sarevok?"
This had always been Freya's theory. The souls of the dead Bhaalspawn would eventually merge and Bhaal would return, only different from before. A blending of all those personalities, memories and experiences. Somebody was about to lose their vote in the decisions of one of the most powerful entities in the cosmos. Sarevok, Eric or herself.
"You have a point," she frowned. "But I need to think about this."
Think she did. For the following days until Garren Windspear's return from Athkatla, she sat hunched in a ball, staring at the fire. Only when it was her turn to collect firewood from the shed outside did she stray from it. It was up to Viconia to triumphantly claim the rabbits from the snares. When Anomen came to her with her doses of numbing potion, she waved him away.
Going cold turkey made her feel rather shaky and ill, but Yoshimo's suggestion was exactly the sort of decision that should not be made under the influence of numbing potions. Withdrawal did give her an excuse to sit shivering by the fire and not engaging with the others. By the time Garren returned she felt weak but ok. What's more, she had made up her mind.
The question boiled down to whether she was prepared to sacrifice herself to Irenicus's experiments in order to spare Sarevok. How good an Ilmatari was she really? The girl who had fled Candlekeep would never have agreed to this plan, but that girl had not yet witnessed Freya being skinned alive.
"We'll do it," Arowan whispered to Yoshimo, knowing that once again she was crossing a moral line that could not be uncrossed. "We use Sarevok."
Garren returned from Athkatla in a terrible state. His face was bleeding from cuts and bruises and an arrow stuck out from his shoulder. Someone had slung his body over his horse and tied him to it. The animal had found its way home, and when they dragged him down from the saddle, they were relieved to discover that he still drew breath.
"Helm's beard!" cried Anomen, as he and Viconia healed their host of his wounds. "What happened?"
"Bandits in the woods!" Garren groaned blearily. "Firkraag's men. They took… they took my child. Held a knife to his throat until he told them all about you. They showed us this picture and asked if we'd seen the woman in it. We swore we did not know her, but the ogre who led them did not believe us. He said that a Selunite monk and a Sharran drow were her known companions, and if you were in the party who killed Ajantis, then she must be too!"
He held out a yellowing sheet of paper. It was crumpled and torn around the edges. Arowan recognized it as a very old bounty notice. One of many that Sarevok had printed in an attempt to capture Freya. A portrait of the younger werewolf, blissfully unaware of her impending doom, grinned cockily up at her. Both she and the man who had hunted her were dead, and yet their legacy continued to cause mischief.
"Her name was Freya Silvershield, formerly Freya of Candlekeep," said Arowan. "The Hero of Baldur's Gate."
"Then we must send for her at once!" Garren cried. "Firkraag has issued her a challenge. See, it is written alongside a crudely drawn map on the back of this notice. He keeps my only child a hostage until she comes."
The party looked at each other, stricken.
"That may be problematic, my friend," Rasaad said tentatively. "Freya Silvershield is dead."
At this, Garren put his head into his hands and sobbed. Any reasonable kidnapper would take that as an answer and release the child. Yet Firkraag did not strike any of them as being reasonable.
"What of your contacts in the Radiant Heart. Are we still to be killed?" Viconia asked urgently.
Garren stopped weeping and glared at her, disgusted.
"Is that your only concern? My child is taken, and you think only of yourself?"
Arowan rose shakily to her feet. Her pale, sweaty face and bleary eyes from lack of numbing potion did little to reassure the former lord. Even at her best, she was not the sort of hero capable of storming keeps and daring rescues. Right now, she looked as though she could barely even walk.
"Let us talk to this Firkraag," Arowan suggested, albeit without enthusiasm. "Freya pissed off a lot of people, but she is gone now. Whatever she did to defy this man, perhaps he will be satisfied with knowing that she met an exceptionally gruesome end."
There was something they had to do first, however. Those members of the party who had been inside the dungeon under Waukeen's Promenade insisted that before they sought out Firkraag, the dryads must be freed. It had already been far too long.
Garren was able to direct them, for he roamed the woods regularly and had discovered the place, though normally he went out of his way to avoid it. A great pool of turquoise water bubbled and frothed in the middle of the forest, like a gigantic bathtub. In it, creatures were swimming and playing, many resembling naked women. Fauns and half-goats gambolled around the edges playing pipe music. Through the pool a long, mossy line of stepping stones led to a great throne of ivy. A wispy woman with curly black hair and bark-like skin sat in it. Her eyes glowed a golden brown, and she smiled at them as they approached with pearly teeth.
"Welcome strangers, have you come to join the merriment for all eternity?" she laughed. A crown wrought from twigs and adorned with berries sat upon her brow.
The words were welcoming, but there was something slightly sinister in her tone. Garren seemed nervous and fidgety. Arowan glanced at Jaheira who was also clearly on her guard. The other three men were staring unblinkingly at the nymphs, even Rasaad. It was as though they were under some sort of enchantment. If this annoyed Viconia then she did not show it, for she too seemed to be having difficulty tearing her eyes away.
"Let me guess, we 'join you for eternity' as skulls at the bottom of your pool? Something along those lines?" Arowan asked dryly.
"No! What are you talking about?" the faerie queen snapped, clearly offended. "I didn't mean literally. We've not had handsome young mortal men pass this way for a while. My girls would have let them go afterward but if you're going to be like that…"
"Ignore Arowan!" Anomen cried hastily, but it was too late. The fey creatures were in a huff. Some of them were literally glowing red with annoyance. The cleric rounded on the ranger, who grinned apologetically. "You are a menace girl."
"Next tavern we come to, I'll lend you the Charisma Ring," Arowan suggested by way of compensation. "It'll give you the confidence to talk normally, without that revolting courting business, to any woman you like. How about that?"
This mollified the disappointed man a little, though he continued to glare at her resentfully. Rasaad and Yoshimo, meanwhile, seemed to have come to their senses and were backing up to join Garren. Though every once in a while, the monk shot a wistful look at the nymphs. He had a powerful, albeit repressed, libido.
"Er… these are for you, friend, do not be angry with us," Yoshimo said, retrieving the acorns. He placed them carefully onto one of the stepping stones before beating a hasty retreat.
The faerie queen's eyes widened and she fluttered forward, dancing on tiptoe from stone to stone, before scooping up the precious seeds. All giggling and prancing around the pool ceased as her subjects turned to watch her. She closed her hand around the acorns, breathing deeply, and a golden glow shone from her palms. When she opened them, the tiniest hint of roots, like little white worms, were poking from them.
Then before her the three captive dryads materialized. Having their trees relocated had not been good for them. Unlike their beautiful cousins in the pool, the three of them looked sick and weathered. Large cankerous sores pockmarked their skin. Yet when they realised where they were, two of them let out squeals of joy, and the third burst into floods of tears.
"We are saved! We are free! Oh, majesty, thank you!" cried one.
"Thank the human thief," replied the queen.
Arowan bristled suddenly, not liking the potential form that their thanks to Yoshimo might take. Fortunately, lovely though they were, the Kara-Turan had a strong preference for enthusiasm in his lovers. Women, especially ones as abused as these three had been, offering favours out of gratitude, did little for him. Especially with the stench of that dungeon still lingering about them. He was also rather worried about what they might say in front of the party, for they knew full well about his geas.
"No thanks necessary!" Yoshimo replied hastily. "I am only sorry that it took so long. Come… erm… let us find this Firkraag, for I am sure the child he holds prisoner must be petrified."
Suddenly one of the former captives wailed in terror.
"What's she doing here?" the dryad asked, pointing a trembling finger at Arowan.
She flinched. The dryads had only ever known her under the full influence of numbing potions, and she had not been very nice in that state. Lacking empathy as she had been, their story of woe had bored her and she'd made no effort to hide it. They had probably heard her cold conversations with their master, and perhaps even seen her dragging Khalid's body around the complex.
On the other hand, she had come all this way and got into considerable trouble to release them. With that in mind, their reaction was not entirely fair.
"We brought your acorns back," she reminded them placatingly. "Listen, I'm sorry I was so unsympathetic in the compound, I was addicted to numbing potions and-"
"She's as cold and unfeeling as he is!" the dryad whimpered to her queen, as her fellow captives nodded in agreement. "They are two of a kind, she and the master!"
That was an outrageous accusation, and Arowan had just begun to retort angrily when the entire party found themselves paralysed and blown backward by a magical gale. The faerie queen was changing, from beautiful to a menacing spirit of immense power.
"Because you saved my sisters, I will let you leave with your life, but know this: if you ever return, I will destroy you. For I see now what you are and what you may one day become. Stay away from this place, Huntress!" she said icily. "You will not find your quarry here. There is no reason for you to come to us again."
"You're welcome," Arowan replied sarcastically, through gritted teeth. "It was no trouble at all coming here by the way. We were only falsely accused of murder. Now we have to take on the lord of the entire region to clear our names. Just in case you were concerned that we'd gone to any inconvenience. So, you know… don't trouble yourselves to thank me or anything."
The dryads ignored her, and were already skipping away into the deep forest, blowing kisses at Yoshimo as they went. Meanwhile the rest of the faerie queen's court were gradually losing interest, and resuming their festivities. The queen relaxed and turned her attention to Viconia, who was still watching the nymphs with a slightly dreamy expression.
"You, of course, are always welcome back, Servant of all Faiths," the faerie queen said with a warm smile at their cleric. "May the spirits of the wood ever guide and protect you."
Arowan bristled as the faerie folk flocked to the drow, running their fingers delightedly through her fine silver hair and stroking her face affectionately. Viconia, who had not even wanted to bother helping the dryads in the first place, smirked at her.
"Fine. Whatever!" Arowan snapped. "Firkraag next. Perhaps when we rescue Garren's child they can spit on my boots as well!"
She had still not worked out whether young Windspear was male or female, but it seemed indelicate to ask.
As they approached the location marked on Firkraag's map, the entrance to his palace was not hard to find. A vast hole had been carved into the side of a mountain, supported by ornate stone structures. There were etchings as tall as two men, gilded and shimmering. Statues of mean, fanged wyrms scrawled up the walls like geckos with their forked stone tongues lolling out. Above the door, a pair of serpent's heads reared ninety feet high into a vast arch.
Wings, scales and pointed fangs from a hundred reptilian mouths gleamed down at them. Even the cobbles beneath their feet were interspersed with shed scales, as though someone had been gradually replacing the pebbles as the superior material was shed.
"Is anyone else noticing a certain theme to the decor here?" Yoshimo asked nervously. "Perhaps, my friends, it might be prudent to reconsider venturing into this lair."
"Dragons," agreed Arowan in a shaky voice. "Lord Windspear, I think it would be best if you go home. This negotiation is going to be dangerous enough, without intentionally bringing someone Firkraag already hates."
"We have fought dragons before and prevailed," Viconia said arrogantly. "Well, some of us have anyway."
"Some of you had the Hero of Baldur's Gate with you when you fought that last dragon," Arowan said, eyeing Rasaad's legs which were knotted from thigh to ankle with burn scars. The creature in question had even blinded his tattoo of the eyes of Selune, with a single swipe of its claws. "And your monk still almost died."
Rasaad's expression darkened. Not only had he received a thorough and extremely painful arse-kicking from that dragon, but it had been Coran who had eventually taken it down and saved his life. Though his love affair with Arowan was well and truly over, Coran was still a bit of a sore subject. As a result, his response to her was unusually prickly.
"You pressed hard to negotiate with that dragon as I recall," Rasaad said. "Perhaps you will succeed where I failed." His tone made it very clear how likely he thought this was and the ranger's eyes narrowed. "And if not, I have gained much of my goddess's favour and power since then. I will not fall so easily a second time."
"Don't be ridiculous. Without Freya, you'll be toasted alive and gobbled down like bacon rashers," Jaheira snapped, voicing Arowan's thoughts perfectly. "Nobody is to attempt to fight the dragon."
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?" Viconia screamed.
Jaheira looked utterly bemused, and Arowan had to stifle a laugh. Her first and, she was determined, only evil use of the Charisma Ring had been to convince Viconia that toast was a dirty word. It seemed that the drow had swallowed her lies like… well… toast.
At that moment fighting became inevitable, however, because her yelling at the cavern entrance attracted guards. A volley of arrows whistled overhead. Those who had shields raised them, and the others ducked underneath, except for Rasaad who dodged the falling missiles. His boasts about having grown more powerful were not, it seemed, mere hubris.
Arowan was not slow to return fire. There had been so many falling arrows at once that the hallway must be packed with archers. She had no need to aim, since there would be an enemy wherever her fire arrows struck. Without wasting time gauging shots she let loose fire arrow after arrow into the darkness. Soon the tunnel was filled with light and smoke and their surviving enemies were driven out into melee.
"Hobgoblins!" Anomen informed them, unnecessarily. "With me, men!"
It was his kind of battle, and he charged full throttle into the fray, bludgeoning left and right with his mace and parrying axes with his shield.
"Well he is brave, I'll give him that," muttered Jaheira. "I suppose I had better rescue him now before the idiot boy gets himself killed."
Soon the druid, in bear form, and the monk were joining Anomen, with Viconia casting her supporting spells from the side. Unwilling to risk shooting directly into the melee, Arowan crept forward into the smoke, an arrow notched in her bow.
At first it was suffocating and the stinging heat from the fire stopped her venturing in further. Then all at once it cleared. Viconia had cast a Zone of Sweet Air and was following her into the cave. Arowan still did not wholly trust her not to stab her in the back and claim a hobgoblin did it. From the distance the drow was keeping from her, it was clear that Viconia had no faith in her either. The cleric summoned Shar's flaming sword, and Arowan stepped backward instinctively, but she was only using it as a torch.
By the light of the sword and fire arrow they could make out that they were in a huge cavern. A second, much narrower hallway led deeper into the compound. In the corner of the cave there was also a large hole, vast enough to drive an army down. Holding her light to it, Viconia saw huge claw marks had scratched the sides of it. The dragon, it had to be a dragon, had made its own entrance, tunnelling down into the mountain. Even assuming that it had made the hole large enough to fly out of, it must still be a colossal beast. Viconia's mouth formed a round 'O' as she stared at where its claws had torn deep grooves into the rocks.
"Reminds me of your handiwork," muttered Arowan, running her fingers over the three-line scar across her cheek from where Viconia had once slashed her face. "Still think you can take on Firkraag?"
"I think," Viconia said carefully, surveying the pit, "That this dragon may be somewhat larger than the last one. Perhaps… perhaps negotiation is not such a terrible notion this time around."
"We're not still packing Freya's dragonhide armour, are we?" asked Arowan, "Because that's pretty much guaranteed to piss him off."
"No, Keldorn still has it," Viconia replied, adding ruefully, "We could have sold it you know."
"Ok. Here goes." Arowan took a deep breath and called into the hole. "Excuse me, Lord Firkraag? Might we have a word?"
There was no response. She tried again a little louder.
"I beg your pardon Lord Firkraag! Could we trouble you for a moment of your time?"
Nothing.
"You sound like a door-to-door evangelist! Let me try," whispered Viconia. She took Freya's wanted poster from Arowan, wrapped it around a small pebble and tossed it into the hole. This time there was an indignant snort. "Lord Firkraag, we received your summons. The one you seek is long dead. If you would do us the honour of coming up to speak to us, we can offer you gold in exchange for the child you now hold."
A deep, horrible laughter rumbled from the hole, accompanied by a plume of smoke.
"You must think I was hatched yesterday, mortals," a chilling, but oddly refined voice rose from the depths. "Have you perchance set a little trap for me, Freya? Will I fly up into a volley of detonating arrows, or is it your intent to shred my wings before I can land? No, I think not. You will come to me. My minions will try to stop you, but I'm sure you will have no trouble dealing with them."
"He wants to make sure she's nice and tired by the time she reaches him," Viconia sighed resignedly. "Belhifet used the same strategy."
"Do you think anything we say is going to convince him she's dead?" asked Arowan.
"We could go dig up that fur coat and come back?" the drow suggested. "Tossing it down to him might convince him."
Arowan wrinkled her nose at her, then remembered that she was in no position to judge this plan. Seeing as how there was no coat to dig up, on account of her taking it to Irenicus for Bodhi to wear.
"Fur coat you say?" Firkraag's voice wafted up from the depths. "Now that is interesting. Come down here little mortals. Slay my servants if they get in your way, I can always breed more. Make your way down and let us talk."