Arowan left Valygar's cabin hastily, muttering to Viconia what a strange and unpleasant man he was. For once she and the drow actually agreed on something, though being a rat, the cleric was unable to say so. As they walked down the cliff path, the ranger spotted the cabin that they had originally been looking for. It was small wonder that they had not seen it from ground level, for it was encircled by trees on all sides.
"It'll be quick," Arowan promised, as Viconia nipped her in protest. "We'll just pop our noses around the door to check whether Jaheira and Anomen have been. Then we'll return to the village straight away and have you changed back."
Merella's cabin was in a good state of repair and showed signs of recent habitation. Chopped wood was piled up near the door and the decking had been swept. Yet the door was ajar, and when they stepped into the cold, neat little home, it was obvious that something was wrong.
A trail of bloody paw prints led from the front door to one of the bedrooms. Red handprints were wrapped around the table leg and the chairs were askew around it. It seemed as though someone had been pulled out alive, grabbing the table as they left. Nervously, Arowan notched an arrow and tiptoed into the bedroom. The sheets were drenched in blood, and flies had gathered in the mess, but there was no corpse.
She closed that door, though there was little real reason to do so. The whole situation was making her shiver and every little rustle from the trees outside was making her jump. Creaking floorboards beneath her feet sounded deafening in the silence. She feared what the noise might attract.
Three documents lay on the table. Arowan had never been able to read properly. By sounding out the words slowly she was able to deduce that one was a note left by Jaheira, one a note left by an adventurer who had come before them and the third was Merella's journal. Reading their content would have taken hours and she was not minded to stay in the cabin that long. There were no enemies around for now, but it was a creepy place to find oneself with only a rat for company. Hastily, she crammed the items into her pack and left the cabin at close to a run.
Eager though she was to read the letters, she could not act on their content without the rest of her party. She ran to Jermien's house and banged loudly on the door. The wizard answered looking cross, a half-eaten sausage dangling from his lips like a cigar. When she held up the potion bottle of mimic blood, however, his eyes gleamed.
"Well done girl, well done!" he exclaimed. "I don't know how you found a mimic in the middle of a wood, and so quickly too, but here it is! Right, let's get cracking!"
He turned to the golem, arms half raised in incantation, when Viconia let out an indignant squeak. Jermien rolled his eyes, irritated at being interrupted. There followed a small cry of anguish. Colette had followed her father out of the cabin, dinner plate in hand. When she saw the mimic blood, she dropped her sausages and started to sob.
"Yes, yes fine. The rat!" Jermien snapped. "Just give me a moment and I'll turn you back. Now then… all I need to do is add this and my golem will be complete. Finally I will be able to leave in peace, safe in the knowledge that Eldoth will not be molesting my daughter in my absence."
He poured the blood over his fingers and traced out markings over the surface of the golem. The fountain water had almost dried from its surface. Hadn't Valygar muttered some dark warning about that water? Hadn't he implied that it was connected to the Umar Witch? Jermien was sure that she did not exist, but as the golem groaned and creaked into life, Arowan suddenly felt the urge to ready an arrow.
"Yes!" cried Jermien ecstatically. "Arise my creature! Awake and hear my command!"
"RAAUUGHHH!" moaned the golem. It reached down its muddy fists and seized the wizard by the front of his robes. A panicked look flashed over Jermien's face.
"Eh? Wh- what is wrong here?" he cried. The golem threw him forcibly across the room. Colette screamed as her frail father hit the wall and fell onto the bed below. He landed with a shriek and his foot was at an odd angle. "No, no stay back! Back! I command you!"
"FATHER!" screamed Colette.
There was nothing Arowan could do except try to intervene. Arrows are not much use against golems, particularly fire arrows against one composed of wet mud. Her shots struck it but sizzled out harmlessly. Jermien tried to curse the monster he had created, but since he had designed it for the purpose of controlling his mageling daughter, it was highly resistant to magic. Viconia attempted to bite it, but was left with a mouthful of foul mud.
Just in time, Arowan was struck by an idea. If the correct runes, daubed in mimic blood, were required to make the golem work, then perhaps she could break it by spoiling them! She grabbed the bottle, wetted her fingers and stroked several random marks over the runes.
The golem froze with its fist raised over Jermien. It turned around slowly three times before lifting the kettle from the stove and smashing it over its own head. Arowan tried to draw a red cross over the only part she could safely reach, its rear. In response the golem rotated his head 360 degrees, punched a hole through the nearest wall and lurched away into the wood.
They watched it go nonplussed.
"Hopefully that won't be a problem later," Arowan said brightly.
"You!" thundered Jermien. "You gave me false mimic blood, girl!"
"It was a real mimic, you just used a bad spell!" the ranger retorted. "It was probably the fountain water you mixed up with the mud. You got it from that weird shrine-thing over there. Have you ever taken a proper look at the engravings on those stones? It is dodgy as hell!"
She neglected to add that Valygar had been the one to warn her about it. Jermien did not, so far as she could tell, see the Cowled Wizards as anything more than dispensers of magic licenses. That didn't mean he wouldn't turn in the ranger anyway, since he had little incentive not to. Especially in his current grouchy mood. Colette, on the other hand, was practically dancing.
"Oh it's gone, it's gone!" she sang. "Thank you! Just wait till I tell my darling Daar! I mean… Eldoth!"
She skipped across the road in the direction of the Umar Inn. Jermien tore at his beard in despair.
"One of my own creations turned on me," the wizard said, looking sadly at the hole in his wall. "It… it seems I am not so wise and powerful as I had once thought. And perhaps I have been foolish in some of my other decisions as well. If Eldoth will love my daughter, protect her and take good care of her then I should not stand in the way."
He looked balefully at Arowan. Though she did not know Eldoth personally, she did know him by reputation. It seemed exceedingly unlikely that he would either love or take good care of Colette. Most likely, in her desperation to escape from under her father's thumb, the poor naive girl would end up a serving maid to someone even more oppressive.
"She's an adult, you can't force her not to make poor choices," Arowan said slowly. "It's obvious she doesn't want to be a Cowled Wizard and forcing the issue is probably what drove her to this in the first place…"
Jermien opened his mouth angrily.
"…But," the ranger went on calmly, "If you'll agree to turn Viconia back, I think I can probably get Eldoth to leave of his own volition."
The mage closed his mouth, and his eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"Deal," he replied, stroking his beard. "Leave your rat here and I'll fix her up."
Arowan returned to the inn, where Eldoth was already drunkenly leering over Colette. She was perched on his knee, giggling and fawning over her 'catch.' The other bar patrons looked away uncomfortably as he slobbered over her neck, while inviting everyone to their wedding at the top of his irksome voice.
"Excuse me," Arowan said, tapping his shoulder, "Might I have a word?"
"If Jermien's sent some message, tell the blasted old man to accept when he's lost," Eldoth crowed.
"No, it's not about that. I have good news for you both," she smiled as sweetly as she could manage without the Charisma Ring. Colette seemed displeased at being interrupted but Eldoth looked intrigued. He followed her into the stables, turfing out the stable-boy with an unceremonious flick of his boot.
Ever the 'romantic,' the bard picked up a piece of straw from the stable floor and wove it deftly into a golden ring before popping it onto Colette's finger. She sighed and gazed at him adoringly. Arowan felt a surge of guilt, but if Eldoth really did love her then what she was about to say made no difference. If he didn't, she was doing Colette a favour in the long run.
"Freya is dead," she said.
These three simple words had a startling effect on the bard. His pack fell from his shoulders, landing with a musical twang behind him. His arms dropped slack to his side, his mouth hung open like a startled fish and he took a step backward in shock, before his expression changed. It was as if the sun had risen on Eldoth's face. Then to the astonishment of both women he gave a great whoop of joy and leapt into the air.
Eldoth threw his arms about her, spun her around and then kissed her in celebration, much to Colette's dismay. It was a moment so disgusting that Arowan would repress the memory of it for the rest of her life. Mercifully, by twisting her face away, she managed to escape his lips actually meeting hers (just) but her cheek received a proper sliming. She pushed him back and stumbled away, straightening her tunic.
"Freya is dead?" he gasped. "The Hero of Baldur's Gate is gone? You mean it? How did she die? Tell me!"
"Skinned alive," Arowan replied flatly. Eldoth threw back his head and howled with laughter. Then he turned two full somersaults over the hay bales, earning him frightened whinnies from the startled horses.
"What a way to go!" he grinned. "I'd buy whoever did it an ale. Hells, I'd buy him a whole damn tavern if only I had the gold. Ha! You know what this means don't you? I don't have to hide anymore! I'm free to return to Baldur's Gate!"
He scooped up an armful of hay and flung it over his head with a cheer, dancing amongst the falling strands like a madman and singing at the top of his lungs.
"But dearest!" cried Colette, tugging at his sleeve, "I don't want us to go all the way to Baldur's Gate! We're staying here, where I can keep an eye on father. We were going to set up a smallhold and keep sheep, remember? That's what we planned."
Eldoth paused his celebrations and picked up his pack, suddenly looking extremely shifty. He opened one of the stalls and began quickly saddling up the small brown mare who was grazing within it.
"Ah… yes… 'We…' The thing about that is…" he began slowly. Then suddenly he swung his leg over his horse and rode it out into the stable. Colette squealed in shock and was just about to protest that she was not eloping with him to Baldur's Gate, when Eldoth made it clear that she did not have the option. "Plans change, my love. Goodbye!"
With that he jammed his boots sharply into the horse's bottom. She neighed loudly and took off out of the stable. Colette ran to the door and Arowan followed slowly. Together, surrounded by the smell of hay and horse manure, they watched Eldoth gallop away down the road. Gradually the sound of hoofbeats faded, till all that remained were the distant songs of the local drunks and Colette sniffling.
"Father put you up to that!" she cried, slapping Arowan.
"The Hero of Baldur's Gate was one of the most famous adventurers who ever lived," Arowan replied harshly. "Eldoth would have learned of her death sooner or later. Would you rather he leave you now, or after he'd sired a baby or two?"
Colette sank into a stuffed hay bale and burst into tears. One of the remaining horses stuck her muzzle out of the stall and nudged her softly. It seemed like a lovely comforting moment, until the humans realized that all the mare really wanted was to stop the apprentice sitting on her food.
"I suppose Eldoth never would have been content to live as a farmer, out here with me," Colette sighed sadly. "I guess I'll let father take me to Athkatla and become a Cowled Wizard, just like he always dreamed of."
"You desperately don't want to be a Cowled Wizard, do you?" Arowan observed.
"Father never listens, but I don't really like cities and I loathe magic," replied Colette. "It always seems to go wrong, and even when it goes right, it does more harm than good."
The pair wandered back toward Jermien's house, which was even more of a hovel now that it sported a golem shaped hole in the wall. Colette looked about her desolately. Even her father could feel no glee over Eldoth's departure. Not with his daughter so hopelessly unhappy. Arowan bit her lip. She had promised not to tell anyone, and this family in particular, about Valygar, and yet…
"You know a ranger moved into the clifftop cabin north-west of here recently," Arowan ventured off-handedly. "Maybe you should go and introduce yourself Colette. He doesn't like magic or cities much either. Could be you'll make a friend."
"On the subject of friends," Jermien interrupted abruptly. "Yours is in the closet. You didn't warn me she was a drow and now she won't come out."
"Is she back to normal?" asked Arowan, fingers brushing the latch. As soon as Viconia heard the ranger's voice she burst from the wardrobe, with only a blanket wrapped about her for modesty. The ranger yelped in shock and stumbled backward, as Viconia summoned her flaming sword. "Ok, yes she is. Shit! Thank you Jermien, I have to go now!"
The ranger turned and fled back in the direction of the inn, Viconia hot on her heels. It was as well that the market place was not busy that day. Only a handful of the regular traders caught sight of the semi-naked drow, their mouths dropping in shock. Ignoring the gasps and catcalls from the patrons, Arowan shoved her way through to the stairs and ran up them three at a time.
"We are not that kind of establishment!" protested the innkeeper, though he stared at Viconia running up the stairs along with everyone else.
Rasaad had recovered somewhat and was sitting up in bed, attempting to meditate. Yoshimo was humming under his breath and staring idly out of the window with a bored expression. Arowan darted in and slammed the door behind her.
"You are back," the monk observed pleasantly. "Is Viconia recovered?"
"LET ME IN YOU RIVVIL C-!"
"Oh yes," nodded Arowan emphatically. "Viconia is feeling much better."
The door burst open, to reveal a furious drow. Her long silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, the ends just brushing the arc of her back. Any notion of inner calm fled Rasaad's mind. He stared in helpless shock and longing at her long legs and full, half-exposed chest. She was panting from the effort of running and looking at Arowan with a savage fury.
"I beg your pardon madam, but you seem to have mislaid your clothes," Yoshimo pointed out, keeping his composure rather better than Rasaad.
"Mislaid? She stole them!" screeched Viconia. "As if throwing me about in rat-form like a stuffed toy weren't enough, she left me without a stitch to wear in the shack of that loathsome wizard! He gave me a blanket in the end, but the dirty old man took his time! I had to listen to no end of despicable comments about drow while he stood there salivating!"
For a moment Arowan wondered what in Faerun the drow was talking about. Then she remembered that she had taken Viconia's unused tunic when her own got soaked by the rain. Worse, she was still wearing it.
"You weren't using your tunic, you were a rat!" protested Arowan.
"You could at least have brought some clothes to the wizard's house when I changed back instead of leaving me like this!" Viconia seethed.
"I forgot! If you'd just asked instead of attacking me…" countered Arowan, but she was cut off by the other woman.
Viconia tackled her bodily onto the bed and began tugging at the tunic with the apparent intention of removing it and taking it back herself. The ranger pushed her off and attempted to pin her, and in the ensuing struggle, the drow lost her towel.
"Get off me, you possessed kobold!" panted Arowan, but Viconia succeeded in pulling the ties on the tunic and was now attempting to rip it off. "Quit it! Who do you think I am? Freya?"
"I respected Freya's request not to shove the mace handle up her arse, which is more than I will do for you if you don't give me my tunic back!" the drow hissed in reply. Even she knew that her behaviour had gone beyond ridiculous, but there was something about Arowan that she found impossibly provocative. A visceral hatred that far outweighed anything that the Ilmatari had ever actually done to her, and outstripped all her other enemies.
Stripping being the operative word, for she succeeded in removing the tunic from Arowan's back, albeit tearing a seam out in the process. She scratched Arowan hard in the face, in exactly the same spot where she had scarred her during the crusade. The ranger responded by pulling her hair.
"We should probably do something," Yoshimo said to Rasaad, while making no move whatsoever to stop them. Moments like this were why, in spite of everything, he did not really regret leaving home. Entertainment like this just didn't exist in the strict Ilmatari sect of his youth.
"Agreed!" Rasaad replied, his voice rising to a panicked squeak. "We should do something! But er… what?"
"We could pull them apart?" Yoshimo suggested gamely. "I'll haul Arowan, you grab Viconia?"
"I am… a little reluctant to stand up at present," the monk admitted in an urgent whisper.
Though he kept his voice low, the feuding semi-clad pair heard him. Both women paused in their struggle and stared at the monk. Arowan sported an especially perturbed expression.
"We're only human," shrugged Yoshimo.
Arowan and Viconia immediately sprang to their feet, covering themselves with whatever was available and looking furious. They had been so caught up in their hatred of each other, that they had quite forgotten the men in the room.
"Avert your eyes male, or I shall pluck them out!" Viconia hissed at Yoshimo.
"I wasn't really looking at you, no disrespect intended," the Kara-Turan replied with a sarcastic bow. Arowan meanwhile, was wrinkling her nose at Rasaad as though he were something that had crawled out of the privy.
"As if being slobbered on by Eldoth wasn't bad enough for one day!" she snapped. "If you're healthy enough to leer, you're well enough to shop. Get downstairs and buy us both some new leathers."
"Out of your share of the gold males!" Viconia added, though unlike Arowan she was not wholly displeased with Rasaad's reaction. "Go on, move!"
"They will have to be cheap ones," Yoshimo warned them, patting his pocket nervously. "Jaheira left only forty gold pieces between us."
"Cheap is better than nothing," Arowan snapped. For a moment Yoshimo's eyes sparkled at her and he looked as though he were about to disagree. Luckily he thought the better of such jokes and made himself scarce, taking Rasaad with him.
Cleric and ranger were left alone together. The stench of Rasaad's earlier vomiting still lingered about the room. All at once, Viconia was gripped by a strange and almost overpowering sensation. She felt, with every fibre of her being, that it was worth losing Rasaad and the protection of her party, worth losing her life, worth losing everything… to conjure her flaming sword once more and plunge it into the ranger's chest.
Only it would not be that simple, for the ranger already had an arrow in her hand. Viconia knew in her heart, with absolute certainty, that Arowan was thinking the same thing. For a while neither of them moved, like two alley cats in a stand-off.
"Something is very wrong here," Arowan said at length. The feeling was ebbing away like a receding tide, but the threat of it returning lingered.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the drow lied, stiffly.
"Yes you do," Arowan said coldly. "We've never liked each other. I'd even go so far as to say I hate you, Viconia, only… I don't think I hate you this much."
"You can't harm me," the drow threatened, "I'm the Servant of all Faiths."
This wasn't strictly true. The gods had shown time and time again that they were perfectly happy to allow their Chosen One to be harmed. Just not killed. Yet Viconia was not about to advertise this fact to her enemy. Or was Arowan really still her enemy? The rivvil had a point. What they were feeling went far beyond whatever genuine enmity they had. There was something unnatural about it. The ranger shook her head, trying to dislodge the invading thoughts.
"Here Viconia, while we're waiting, I need you to read these," she said, handing cleric the documents she had retrieved from Merella's cabin.
The drow took them and perused the writing with irritating (and Arowan suspected deliberate) slowness. All the time she kept glancing up at the ranger's bow. Finally she flung the diary aside.
"Nothing much of interest in here," she said, "The local ranger was getting more frightened of the forest wolves recently, which does not surprise me given what we saw in her cabin. This letter is signed by someone called Mazzy Fentan."
"Sounds like a halfling name," frowned Arowan. She guessed that the Sharran was leaving Jaheira's note till last just to annoy her, but she refused to rise to it. If there were anything terribly urgent in it, the drow would be quicker to get to the point. Viconia cleared her throat and read;
"Minister Lloyd,
We travel this day to search out the wolf lair. My own scouting of this region confirms Merella's suspicions that a large pack of wolves is operating in this area. On the map included, I have detailed where I believe the wolf den to be located. The position of the blood stains and furniture suggest that she was dragged from her cabin alive, and it is my hope that she may yet be rescued. My intent is to return within three days, or at least send one of my party back to the village to report. Should we fail to do so, you must assume that my entire adventuring party and your ranger have all been overpowered. In this event, I would urge you to write again to the Order of the Radiant Heart for aid, rather than sending men from the village.
Mazzy"
On the same sheet was drawn a crude but clear map, indicating the path to a forested area several miles to the north. With infuriating care, Viconia delicately uncrumpled Jaheira's note, taking her time to smooth out every corner. Arowan ground her teeth, knowing that any entertaining response on her part would only entice the drow to take longer.
"To any who come after us,
At the request of Sir Keldorn of the Order of the Radiant Heart…
(The ink has run over this part, I believe Anomen must have spat on Keldorn's name)
…myself and Anomen Delryn have come to investigate the disappearances plaguing the Umar Hills. Originally our intent was to meet with the rest of our party before proceeding, however it has already been more than the three days stated in Mazzy Felton's letter. If her party or the ranger Merella are still alive, their time may be short and so we have headed in the direction indicated on Mazzy's map.
J"
"Of course you have," groaned Arowan, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Because if an entire party couldn't beat the wolves, a pair of adventurers ought to be able to take them down, no problem. Come on Viconia. We might as well pack up and get ready to leave as soon as we have new clothes. Looks like we're on the road again."
