In The Cards 21 - Accidental Heroes

I sometimes think that for every heroic deed that somebody actually set out to do, there's at least three that people simply happened to stumble across. But of course, few people are willing to admit that they aren't actually all that noble, but simply cursed with bad luck. Then again, some certain people will stubbornly deny any trace of heroism even while defying death for the sake of others. I've learned to just nod and smile and pretend to believe it.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

"And you could both have been killed! What were you thinking of? Have you any idea what might have happened?" Jaheira was practically spitting fire by now and she looked about ready to bite somebody's head off.

"Look, we didn't exactly do it on purpose", Zaerini said. "Getting lost in dark, smelly tunnels is not my idea of fun."

"Oh no?" the druid said. "Then perhaps you should both stay right here by my side, where I can keep an eye on you. I would not want you to get…distracted…by something again." She sounded suspiciously innocent.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rini asked.

Jaheira simply snorted and shook her head. "Never make the mistake of thinking me a fool, child", she said. "Now come. Imoen should be back any minute." She walked off down the corridor.

"I have no idea what she's talking about", Rini said out loud and pulled a hand through her red hair. "Have you any idea what she's talking about?"

Edwin shook his head. "She's clearly delusional", he said. "Too much talking with trees, most probably. Pay no attention to her."

"Yeah. You could be right. I mean, why would we have tried to get lost on purpose? Weird idea."

The bard and the Red Wizard followed Jaheira to the junction further down the hall where Khalid was keeping watch. After a few moments Imoen came around the corner, a quiet presence felt rather than heard. She really was getting much better at sneaking these days.

"Trouble up ahead", Imoen said in a quiet voice. "More kobolds with fire arrows and two large ogrillons. But that's not the worst of it."

"Why do I get the feeling", Edwin said, "that you're about to tell us what is the worst?"

Imoen grinned. "There's a wizard too", she said. "And an Ogre Mage. Seems the human mage is working for the ogre. I couldn't hear much, but they said something about the kobolds being bait for adventurers. Called them 'plump chickens ready for the spit'. The adventurers, I mean. Not the kobolds."

"Charming", Rini said in a dry voice. "So, they're robbers then?"

"Looks like it. It makes sense too. I mean, adventurers usually carry nice and valuable stuff, right?"

"Right. Well, these little chickens aren't quite ready to be spitted yet. We need a plan though. And I think I know just the thing."

A few minutes later Zaerini followed Imoen towards the sound of voices raised in argument. One was sniveling and fearful, the other deep and growling.

"But suppose somebody really dangerous comes?" the scared voice said. "With all the adventurers that disappeared so far they're bound to get the hint and send for somebody better."

"Who cares what weak little halflings do?" the other voice said. "More meat for the larder, more gold for the coffers. HA!"

"But…"

"Shut your face, mageling. Do your work, leave thinking for me. Me the boss. You the bossed."

Imoen carefully peered around the corner. "Just a little to the left", she mouthed to her friend, her voice almost inaudible. "Up a bit. That's it. Go!"

Rini didn't hesitate. She fired her lightning wand and a dazzling lightning bolt, almost bright enough to blind, slammed into the wall of the tunnel ahead of her. She could hear it hiss and sizzle as it bounced down the corridor, and then the agonized screams and yelps as it hit something other than cold stone. Another bolt, and another. More screams. Then silence. "Are they dead yet?" she whispered to her friend.

"I think so. The mage is down, and so are the kobolds and ogrillons. Wait a minute. Where's the… Eeep!" And then Imoen struggled in vain as a large hand lifted her into the air. White tusks and ivory horns gleamed in the faint torchlight as an invisibility spell dissolved. The creature had skin as green as grass and carried a large whip. The truly frightening thing about it were its eyes though. Jet black eyes, with white pupils.

"MMMaaaahaha!" the Ogre Mage laughed. "Puny peoples come to fight!? Good! It has been much fun killing the little people of Gullykin...but it will be just much fun killing you!"

Gullykin? Rini thought. We're near Gullykin? So that's where this tunnel winds up. She knew of Gullykin, a halfling village to the southeast of Beregost, though she had never been there.

"Why would you want to kill halflings?" she asked, trying to stall for time. If she could distract the Ogre Mage long enough her other friends would be able to make it here before he hurt Imoen. "What good does that do you?"

The Ogre Mage grinned, displaying his prominent tusks once again, and bent forwards. His breath smelled like rotting meat. "Little ones are bait", he said. "Bait to bring big ones - big ones with nice and shiny swords and pretty gems. You not very big though. Me kill you now, eat you for dinner. Nice and juicy."

"Whoa!" Imoen protested. "You don't want to eat us!"

"Why?"

Rini made her best superior face. "You're not the only one to use bait, you know", she said. "Sorry to have to tell you this, but you've been had."

The Ogre Mage looked confused. "Me not understand", he said. "Who use bait?"

"Well, you didn't think we'd come here alone did you? That would be silly. Now let my friend go…or…or I'll ask my big brother to hurt you. Yes. That's what I'll do."

The Ogre Mage looked doubtful, but at that moment the bard projected her voice down a side corridor, summoning forth the threatening voice of Sarevok.

"Come to me, beast", the deep and deadly voice called out in challenge. "Face a real warrior, if you dare. Come, and I shall spit you on my sword like the miserable wretch you are."

The Ogre Mage snarled and let Imoen drop to the ground with a loud * thud * . Then he charged off down the empty corridor, snuffling and growling. After a few moments his voice could be heard again. "Hey!" he said. "There's nobody…" The lightning bolt hit him square in the face, and then bounced off the walls to hit him again, and again, and again.

When it was over the two girls looked at each other and sighed with relief. "Whew", Imoen said. "Never thought I'd have Sarevok to thank for my life."

"Makes you think, doesn't it?" the half-elf responded. "Stupid ogre. I told him he wasn't the only one to use bait." She raised her hand as if greeting an invisible being. "Thanks for the help, brother, though I'm sure you'd eat your own sword raw if you knew."

Khalid, Jaheira and Edwin came up from behind at that point. "Oh m-m-my", Khalid said as he saw the carnage. "What h-happened h-h-here?"

"Aw, it was simple", Imoen said with a mischievous grin. "We just killed 'em all. No problem, really."

"No problem?" Edwin asked. "That's a dead Ogre Mage over there. You're telling me that was no problem for the two of you?"

Zaerini shook her head and winked at him. "Oh, that wasn't us", she said. "That was Sarevok." Having thoroughly enjoyed the sight of the three shocked faces in front of her she started laughing out loud, and Imoen was quick to join in. "I'll explain later", the bard said. "I promise."

The two dead wizards turned out to carry several jewels, as well as more than one interesting scroll. Edwin handed Zaerini one, looking very satisfied with his find. "This is Fireball", he explained. "A very useful spell, not to mention entertaining. I've always enjoyed it." Another one he kept for himself, saying that it was the spell called 'Cloud Kill', a potent and dangerous spell that he would save for later since he was not able to cast it just yet.

Pleased with their finds the adventurers continued on their way. The tunnel sloped steadily upwards now, and eventually it ended in front of a wooden door. Zaerini put her finger across her lips and motioned for her friends to keep quiet. Then she pulled the door open and stepped outside, feeling more than a little surprised to find herself in the middle of somebody's living room.

The room was small and cozy, and completely round. A fire roared cheerfully in the fireplace, spreading lovely warmth. Several comfortable armchairs stood in front of it, and there was a tiny bed in one secluded corner. There was a heavy smell of tobacco smoke in the air, easily explained by the room's sole occupant. A halfling sat in one of the armchairs, smoking a pipe almost as long as himself. For a halfling he certainly had an unusually dour face, Zaerini thought. Actually, he reminded her a bit of Montaron.

"WHAT in the nine hells are you doing in my burrow home!" the halfling squeaked. "I don't know why you're here, but any assumptions you might have about halfling hospitality, does not apply to me. When an intruder breaks into my home, I kill 'em."

"Really?" Edwin asked as he stepped into the room. "Well, I suppose I can understand that, given that your downstairs neighbors are a tribe of vicious kobolds. You wouldn't want your other neighbors to find out about that, I assume. They probably wouldn't like it much."

The halfling's round face darkened with murderous rage. "So, you know", he snarled. "It's been a pretty setup this. Letting the kobolds in to terrorize the fools of the village, making them send for adventurers to clear the place out. We've earned a tidy sum from selling their equipment, and I'm not about to go back to being a farmer, I can tell you that much." He ran towards the other side of the room, reaching for the sword propped against the wall, but before he could reach it a Magic Missile slammed into his back, bringing him to his knees.

"Come to think of it", Edwin said, "I don't like you much either."

The halfling struggled to get to his feet. "No!" he protested. "Jenkal will not be defeated! Not like this!" Then he groaned as Imoen hit him over the head with his own pipe, knocking him unconscious as well as breaking the pipe in two.

"Nooo…" Jenkal moaned before he fainted altogether. "Not….my uncle Boldrig's…old tobacco pipe…"

"Well, that was enlightening", Jaheira said. "I take it we are in Gullykin, then. Shall we see what the other villagers have to say about all this?"

After the initial uproar caused by five armed strangers stepping out of Jenkal's house some of the halflings dared stand still long enough to listen to the explanations offered. After they had investigated the house and found the dead bodies in the tunnel, they were only too happy to fetch their Mayor, a cheerful grey-haired halfling almost as wide as he was tall, and with an open red-cheeked face.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Truly amazing! You've cleared the Firewine Ruins, and exposed the traitor in our midst? Truly, the days of noble heroes aren't over yet!" The crowd of eagerly watching halflings cheered.

"Actually", Rini admitted, "we didn't really know where we were and…"

"Father!" a small halfling girl piped up. "I recognize these people! Remember that bard who passed through here? These must be the Heroes of Nashkel!"

Behind her Zaerini could hear Edwin groan. "Uh, yes", she said. "That would be us."

The Mayor's eyes grew as wide as plates. "Well!" he said. "Even more amazing! To get saved by great heroes like yourselves, it's an honor. Truly it is. You'll have to stay for dinner, of course. And second dinner, and breakfast, and…but I'm forgetting myself." He turned to the crowd and spread his arms wide. "People of Gullykin!" he shouted. "These good folks have saved us all! They shall be our friends forevermore, for their hearts are noble beyond belief!"

"Don't say it", Edwin whispered. "Please don't say it. Haven't I suffered enough already? (I'll never live this down. Never.)"

"I give you…the saviors of beleaguered halflings, friends of the needy, slayers of evil kobolds. In short - the Heroes of Gullykin!"

Zaerini waved at the cheering crowd, trying her best to look heroic.

"Thanks a lot", Edwin muttered. "You just had to go and say it, didn't you? Scorn City, here I come. (And here I used to actually like halfllings.)"

Deep within the Wood of Sharp Teeth…

"Sir? Master Adahn? Sir?"

"Yes?" Dekaras said, trying not to snarl.

"I still don't understand, sir. How will standing on one leg help us fight better?"

"For the thousandth time", the assassin said, "it is supposed to help you get a better sense of balance." He eyed the young bandit in front of him critically. The man resembled a young oak more than anything else. Tall, strong and wooden headed. A fairly typical specimen. "Am I to take it that you disapprove of my teaching methods? Perhaps you would prefer a practical demonstration instead, with yourself as a volunteer? I'm always ready to accommodate young minds thirsting for knowledge."

The bandit flinched a little, having already been witness to one such 'practical demonstration'. "No, no, sir", he hastily said. "That's all right. Er…what will you be teaching us tomorrow?"

Dekaras smiled and the bandit took another step back. It was that sort of smile. "To use your hands. You'll be catching bees, using nothing but your fingers."

"But…but won't that hurt?"

Dekaras raised an eyebrow and gave the young bandit a cool look. "Only if you're not nimble enough. Still, you're free to step aside at any time. I'm sure Tenhammer will understand. I'll make sure to ask him if you like."

"No, no, no", the bandit hurriedly said. "Bees, sir? Bees are fine by me. I like bees."

"Good. Now go join the rest of the class."

The young bandit hurried off to join his fellows. Dekaras gave the score of eager young bandits under his command an approving look. They were all standing on one leg, trying their best to keep their balance. That should keep them busy for a while. It was a totally ridiculous sight, as well as a beautiful one. "Keep on with that until I return", he instructed them. "When you fall, you switch to the other leg. I trust I need not tell you that cheating will not be appreciated?"

The bandits hastily cried out their negation. They'd seen a pair of cheaters dealt with some days previously. The two culprits still had trouble walking properly and were prone to nervous twitches.

Dekaras gave his pupils a brief nod and walked off. Yes, this setup was working out very nicely. After he'd managed to impress Teven and Raiken, the two Black Talon recruiters, it hadn't been long before Taugosz Tenhammer started taking an interest as well. The Black Talon leader had thought that training a few of the more skilled bandits into an elite force was a brilliant idea. He still thought it was his own idea as well.

The assassin smiled to himself as he walked on through the bandit camp, passing through the large labyrinth of randomly cluttered tents without stopping once, paying no great attention to the sounds of raucous laughter and voices raised in argument. They were always present in this place. He thought that the position of instructor suited him very well and provided him with much greater freedom of movement than he would have been able to enjoy if stuck in one of the bandit gangs. As it was, he'd effectively drained the patrolling bandit groups of their more promising recruits, such as they were. Those young men were used to obeying orders, and unused to thinking for themselves. Which was the reason why the exercises he set them would never do them any good. Superficial similarities there might be, but being an assassin was very different from being a soldier.

Ah, I still remember my own basic training, Dekaras thought a little wistfully. What was it I used to catch those bees again? A bottle with some honey, wasn't it? Yes, that's right. Master Gorbia was pleased about me being practical rather than following some arbitrary rule or other. Those were the days. Still, these young buffoons should come in handy later, what with their blind obedience. And being able to use their training as an excuse for eccentric behavior will probably be equally useful. Assuming my real student ever deigns to make his way here.

The assassin's black eyes turned very thoughtful as he returned to the vexing problem of Edwin. The boy couldn't really afford to dally much longer. One way or another, soon he would have to make up his mind. He never agonizes this long over his decisions, Dekaras thought. Usually I have to restrain him to keep him from jumping into dangerous situations without thinking first. So why is he being so indecisive this time?

Could Edwin be in some kind of trouble? It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and likely not the last. But if that is the case, Dekaras thought,why did he make no mention of it when we last met? He's always trusted me before. Why not now? He sighed quietly. The boy had always been difficult at times, but nothing like this. There was something really worrying going on, and he didn't like it one bit.

Unbidden, a memory came to him then, a memory from just before their departure from Thay. A woman's face, proud and beautiful, dark eyes deep and mysterious. She hadn't wished for anybody else to see, but she had been truly concerned, not at all her usual confident self. Promise me, she had said. Promise me that you will look after him, my Wolf, and that you both will come back safe. I…don't think I could survive if anything happened. To either of you.

Of course, he had said. You must know I will do whatever it takes to keep him from harm, even at the cost of my own life. Though I certainly don't expect things to go that far. I promise you, beloved. I will protect him as long as there is a spark of life still left in my body, and I would do so even without your request. You need not fear.

I do not. Not as long as you are with him. But I shall sorely miss you both. I think I'm going to need something to remember you by, my Wolf.

Oh? Such as what?

Such as this.

Pleasant as the memory of those last farewell kisses was, it wouldn't do to dwell overmuch on it. He still hadn't decided what to do about Edwin. I think I'm going to have to make contact with him soon, Dekaras thought. Yes, as soon as this night's work is done I'll start making the arrangements. Surely by now the boy must have made some kind of progress.

The sun had set by now and the shadows were starting to lengthen, creating deep pools of darkness between the cooking fires and the tents. The bandits went about their business, most of them eagerly heading for the strong smells of food. The assassin gratefully melted into the shadows, becoming more or less invisible. Now he'd be able to move a little faster, and without risk of getting interrupted. His sharp-featured face took on a look of intense concentration as he approached his goal. The command tent. Through a combination of luck and careful eavesdropping he'd managed to learn about the meeting that was about to take place there tonight, and he fully intended to listen in. The guard outside the door was easily avoided. The man never heard the assassin slip by him, quiet as a ghost. And as for seeing him - well that idea was equally ludicrous.

There was a wooden platform by the side of and below the command tent, a sort of storage area holding many chests and boxes. I'm sure it can manage to hold me as well, Dekaras thought and carefully lifted the board he'd loosened previously. Slipping into the dark space inside took some maneuvering, but he'd been in tighter spots before. The sewers of a particularly difficult target came to mind. The area below the platform was dark and smelled heavily of earth, but there was a faint glimmer of light ahead. Another board was moved aside, as gently as possible. And then the assassin was inside the command tent, in precisely the spot he'd planned to be. He was hidden behind a pair of large chests standing close to the wall of the tent, able to observe without being seen. And there was a lot to observe indeed.

There were banners on the wall, the symbols of the Chill and the Black Talons displayed as proudly as those of any knight. Many chests and boxes lined the walls, loot taken in the bandits' latest raids. There was even a pile of exotic red carpets in one corner. On a small table there lay a map of the Sword Coast, stuck full of little pins indicating troop movements. A pair of simple chairs stood next to it.

Taugosz Tenhammer was there, a large man carrying the hammer that had helped provide his name. A hard man he was, with the look of a man made from stone, body and soul. He glared angrily at Ardenor Crush, the leader of the Chill. The hobgoblin had a contemptuous look on his leathery orange face, and he kept cleaning his long and dirty nails with a wicked-looking dagger. The Chill and the Talons might work together, but there was no love lost between them.

Then there was Tazok himself, believed by most to be the true leader of the bandits. Dekaras knew better. The ogre was impressive, larger than any he'd seen before, as well as smarter. But he was still an ogre, and on the previous occasion when the assassin had managed to listen in to him, he'd mentioned the 'big boss'. Today the big boss himself had apparently arrived.

There were two strange men in the tent. The first was a mage, a gaunt man wearing black. He was currently busy examining the protective wards around the tent. As he turned his face became visible. It was an intelligent face, as well as a hard one, with no obvious emotion showing on the outside. And the sunken eyes were hollow, but strangely eager as well, the eyes of a man living for one thing only.

The second stranger was the one who truly dominated the room, even without saying anything. A huge warrior, a man of powerful build. He was pacing the carpet, moving with an amount of grace uncommon in a man his size, particularly since he was also wearing heavy armor. Rather…gaudy armor, Dekaras thought with some surprise. Not that I'm an expert on platemail, but those spikes can'tbe very practical. He'll be lucky if he doesn't accidentally impale one of his own allies soon. Nevertheless, it couldn't be denied that this man was the real power in the room. It was evident in his every movement, as well as in the quiet menace that radiated from his armored form and was accentuated by a pair of glowing golden eyes, the only facial feature visible behind the visor of his great helm.

"Winski", the armored man said in a deep voice. "Are the wards in place?"

The mage nodded. "They are", he said. "No one outside this tent can hear anything we say."

"Good", the warrior said. Then he turned to his underlings. "You know why I am here", he said without further preamble. "I am dissatisfied with your progress. With Mulahey dead it is imperative that your raids become more effective than they are at the moment. We need to make certainthe only iron in this region is the one flowing out of the Cloakwood."

Taugosz cleared his throat, looking nervous. "Yes sir, Sarevok sir", he said. "It's just that…" He fell instantly quiet as the glowing eyes fixed on him. The only sound in the tent was Tenhammer's heavy breathing and the faint creaking of Sarevok's armor as he approached his lieutenant.

"Did I give you leave to speak?" Sarevok asked in an almost mild voice.

"No sir, but…"

"Then don't." A large mailed fist drew back almost lazily, and then slammed into the Black Talon leader's face, breaking his nose with a loud crunch. Taugosz was unable to hold back a grunt of pain, and he staggered backwards, pressing a hand to his heavily bleeding face. Tazok and Ardenor Crush chuckled in their harsh, inhuman voices, but settled down as those golden eyes turned to them.

"And that goes for you two as well", Sarevok went on as if nothing had happened. "Don't ever make the mistake of thinking yourselves irreplaceable. Any of you." He continued to deliver his instructions, detailing the frequency of the raids he wanted the bandits to make, as well as the areas where he wanted them to concentrate their efforts. Eventually he was finished and dismissed his subordinates. Tazok, Crush and Taugosz left, and seemed very happy to be able to do so still alive. Only the mage, Winski, remained behind.

"Are you quite satisfied?" Winski said and gave Sarevok a critical look. "Or would you like to go and terrorize somebody else? It isn't as if we have anything better to do."

In his hiding-place Dekaras raised his eyebrows with surprise. That was something new. This mage didn't seem cowed by his leader, nothing like the others. That mixture of awe and fear wasn't present in his voice. In fact, that particular tone of voice sounded rather familiar…

Sarevok chuckled in a low voice. "You don't ever give up, do you my mentor? You still insist on treating me like a runny-nosed brat whenever you think I deserve it."

So that's it, Dekaras thought. I should have guessed. Pity the circumstances aren't different or I would probably have enjoyed having a word with that wizard. Exchanging trade secrets so to speak.

Winski shrugged. "It is good for you", he said. "You are an extremely powerful man, but you aren't a god yet. You need to remember that, and if you don't, I'm going to keep reminding you."

"And you need to remember who makes the decisions, and who could cut you in half where you stand."

"Don't be childish", the mage said with a snort. "You know you wouldn't do that."

Oh no? Dekaras thought. I'm not all that certain, my wizard friend. That young man seems rather unstable to me. Push him too hard and he may just push back.

There was a brief pause. "Perhaps", Sarevok said, his voice considering. "We will see. And now, take us home. I still need to see about the disposal of my dear, dear sister and her little friends. I will allow nobody to stand in my way, Winski. Remember that." The wizard didn't answer. He simply chanted a spell, his face even grimmer than before. Blue light flared up around him and Sarevok, and then they were gone.

Dekaras lingered behind for a few moments, thinking about what he had seen and heard. So that was Sarevok, the one that Edwin had mentioned as the deadly enemy of their own target, Zaerini. A fascinating man, and a dangerous one. But all men die, the assassin thought with a thin smile. Even the dangerous ones. As he exited the tent, he pondered the problem further. As a traveling companion of Sarevok's chosen enemy Edwin had effectively made himself a target. While there wasn't an immediate threat, clearly something needed to be done to even the odds a little. And that meant that his own best course of action would probably be to learn as much as he could of the warrior, once this business with the bandits was done.

Knowledge is power, Dekaras thought and slipped into the shadows once again, eagerly breathing in the cool night air. He brushed off a few spiders that had accompanied him out from under the platform and started making a mental file on Sarevok, as he always did when faced with a difficult target. The more one knew, the easier the task became. Dekaras was of the firm belief that there was no such thing as an untouchable target. As long as a person wasn't a god, there would still be a way of getting at him. It might be extremely dangerous and difficult; it might take more than person. That didn't make it impossible, it just meant you had to be very careful. And if you couldn't do something yourself that didn't mean that nobody could. Even Elminster himself has to sleep sometimes, the assassin thought to himself, remembering an old intellectual problem that he had frequently amused himself with. One day somebody will remind him of that. As for Sarevok, I think he should have paid better attention to his teacher. No matter what he might think he is no god, but I will give him the honor of being a very interesting challenge. And I have always enjoyed a challenge.