They emerged from the woods into blazing sunlight. As they rode uphill and onto higher ground, Coran made the mistake of looking back. There were a lot of vultures circling the battlefield.

"Scavenger birds," he said bleakly. "I hope the Order buried those poor people deep enough."

The party turned back to watch the distant fliers beyond the woods, circling over the cliff edge where they had confronted Arowan. Every so often one dived over the battlefield. A few of them were peeling off from the flock, circling in ever closer loops over the forest.

"Damned fat for vultures," remarked Sarevok bitterly. The wretched creatures must have had more than enough to eat of late.

"Sir Keldorn's body is being carried back to Athkatla by the Order along with the other fallen knights," Anomen remarked, as though none of the others were worth considering. He was wholly indifferent to the fate of those unwilling conscripts to the undead army. "My brethren deserve better than to become bird food as well as dying pointlessly."

Jaheira was squinting at the birds in silence. She kept staring at them with narrowed eyes long after the others had lost interest. One of them passed closer to them on its longer loop and she sat bolt upright in alarm. The sunlight caught a bright blue flank, far too shiny to belong to any bird that she had ever seen. Abruptly, its head whipped toward them on a long, snake-like neck and the creature changed its flight path, headed straight for them.

"Those aren't birds," the druid cried suddenly. "Those aren't birds! Ride!"

They galloped over the crest of the hilltop and beyond. It blocked the trees from view, but then smoke began to rise high into the sky. Behind them, the woods had been set ablaze.

"What in the hells is happening?" cried Anomen.

"Dragons!" Jaheira panted. "Don't look back, keep riding!"

"So many in one place?" yelped Coran. "Are you sure?"

Without warning a great shadow fell over them, blocking out the sun like an eclipse. They looked up to see the silhouette of a vast winged beast with wide leathery wings directly above them. Its scaley head dipped to peer at the party.

"Yes, Coran I am extremely sure!"

At her direction the party scattered as they rode down the hill, giving the creature a smaller target to aim at, but to their astonishment and relief it carried on past them. Every time it came upon a cluster of trees blocking its view it blasted them to ashes with fire before soaring up high once more and scanning the ground like it was looking for something.

Against Jaheira's advice, Coran looked back. Three more dragons had appeared from the direction of the smoking forest. They too were spreading out, circling from up high, their heads turning this way and that.

The first dragon was returning. It sprayed a wall of fire into their path, forcing them to draw the reigns and slow their horses down before landing in front of them with a thud. Close to it was a magnificent sapphire blue. The light shone off his scales like sunlight shimmering on the sea.

"You! Mortals!" it roared. "In the name of Abazigal, I demand that you tell me what took place here!"

"Who is Abazigal?" asked Rasaad.

The dragon opened his jaws to their fullest extent and roared. Though there was no fire the heat of his breath alone was near unbearable. Their hair was blown back and droplets of perspiration appeared at once on their foreheads. This was his answer. Abazigal was the one who commanded dragons. At this moment in time, what else did they need to know?

"I am Sir Anomen of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. Our forces intercepted the army of the Bhaalspawn Arowan and destroyed it," Anomen declared, riding forward. If he was going to die anyway, then he would do so as a knight.

The dragon twisted his elegant neck to bring his cunning black eye level with Anomen. It occurred to Coran that he had presented him with a prime target for a well-placed arrow. Eyes were one of a dragon's very few weak points. but there were three more dragons circling ahead and putting an arrow through the eye of this one would certainly provoke them to attack.

"What a coincidence," the dragon said pleasantly, with only a hint of underlying threat. "We came to intercept Arowan ourselves. She was on her way to pay us a visit, or so we've been told."

"Then I must be correct in thinking that Abazigal is the mighty dragon Bhaalspawn we have heard so much about?" Sarevok asked with cautious politeness. He had long navigated the treacherous corridors of power in Baldur's Gate and was no stranger to the art of diplomacy. "I take it you heard of her coming from Amelyssan? You might know her as Melissan."

"Quite," replied the dragon. "I don't suppose you happen to know where Melissan is now?"

"Dead. She told us where Arowan's army was after she came to you," replied Anomen flatly. He did not elaborate, allowing the dragon to assume that she had died in the battle.

"Hmm. World spins on, I suppose," yawned the dragon disinterestedly. He sniffed each of the women in the party. "Forgive my rudeness mortal females, but I had to check. You don't smell of death or Bhaalspawn."

As one, every member of the party prayed to their respective deities that the dragon would refrain from sniffing Sarevok. To their relief, he didn't. He was looking for a woman, and it didn't take a master detective to work out which one. Their relief was short-lived, however.

"We thought we'd come out to meet Arowan, but since she is already disposed of I suppose I'll just have to eat you and see what father wants us to do next," the dragon sighed. He opened his mouth and the glow of imminent death-by-barbeque shone from deep in his purple throat.

"Arowan isn't dead!" Anomen cut in hastily. "She escaped the battle. We are hunting her down as we speak."

The dragon snapped his jaws shut and looked suddenly alarmed. Without another word, he took off into the safety of the skies where he and his fellow dragons continued to circle. Presumably hunting for the necromancer, but from a safe distance.

"That was close," breathed Coran, running his fingers through his short hair. It still felt wrong. "Fuck me. You're lucky he didn't take a sniff of you Sarevok."

"You're lucky he didn't sniff you," replied the Bhaalspawn dryly. "I'll wager you still have the scent of Arowan clinging to you."

They felt incredibly exposed riding across the plain under the glare of the sun and the periodic shadows cast by passing dragons. It was swelteringly hot and between themselves and the horses by lunchtime they found all their water depleted and their mouths still dry.

"We must find a stream soon or an oasis," Rasaad panted, looking up at the barren sky. "For I see no hope of rain."

Jaheira said nothing. She had been scanning the horizon for any hint of water for hours but there was nothing but sparse vegetation and barren rock. It was the lack of animals or birds which gave her most alarm though, save for the occasional dragon. It suggested that the resident wildlife knew that there was nothing to drink nearby.

As the sun rose higher in the sky the brief shade offered by the circling dragons became more and more welcome but less frequent. Finally the last of their dangling tails vanished into a tiny spec in the distant, blazing sky and was gone.

The day wore on and by noon they knew that they were in serious trouble. Their heads were aching from heat and thirst, their bodies refusing to waste their precious reserves of water in cooling sweat. Jaheira felt her tongue shrivel in her parched mouth and scanned the horizon frantically for water but there was nothing. All traces of the moisture that had penetrated their belongings was gone, evaporated into the dusty air.

"We could try digging?" suggested Coran at length. He knew little about survival in the wilds. Baldur's Gate had presented many dangers but a lack of water in the soggy city had never been one of them. How he missed it now.

"Get out your maps," croaked Jaheira bleakly.

There was a rummage in the packs and large parchments of Tethir were spread out. They were not detailed guides by any stretch, for the party had never expected to come here. Only major cities were marked out. The nearest was Saradush, but that was near rubble, probably too far and none of them (particularly Sarevok) wished to return to the ruin if they could possibly avoid it. Anomen was grateful for the dragonhide armour. As well as being strong, shadow dragon scales seemed particularly resistant to temperature change. Sarevok was less fortunate, forced to strip off his heavy armour and carry it strapped to his back.

"We might be able to make it back to Deepstone," Viconia suggested doubtfully, but that road would put them back in the way of the dragons and was probably already on fire. They were fortunate that the dragon had missed Sarevok in their first encounter. They might not be so lucky a second time. Besides, there was no guarantee that the dwarves would help them when they got there.

"There's always this," said Sarevok, pulling out the screwed-up bit of paper that Balthazaar's monk had handed to him before the battle. "Amkethran. Three hours ride away, if that."

"Walking straight into a fellow Bhaalspawn's territory is risky," frowned Coran. "What's to stop him killing us on sight?"

Rasaad looked genuinely shocked that anyone would cast such aspersions upon a fellow monk.

"That would make your little terrier happy wouldn't it?" Sarevok replied, narrowing his golden eyes and the satchel where Bhaal had grown used to riding around. "I was not suggesting that we announce ourselves. We go in, fill our water skins at the nearest tavern and leave."

It was still a risky plan but they didn't have much choice. The hours from their position to the village were hard enough. Headaches grew more acute, the horses began to stumble over their own weary hooves and the party's mouths were too dry for any conversation.

Relief flooded them when at last a village nestled into rockface came into view amid the barren landscape. The desert here was so sparse and devoid of life that they wondered why anyone would build a settlement here and how it could possibly survive. Dominating the village, and seemingly carved out of the stone face of the rocks themselves was a massive fortress. Its cannons were trained at the skies.

"This must be Amkethran," Jaheira rasped. "A trading post, perhaps?"

"Damn well defended for a trading post," muttered Sarevok.

That fortress had to be Balthazaar's home. No doubt the upward pointing canons were for the dragons' benefit. Had they veered to close in their search for Arowan, or was the monk singularly well informed about which of his siblings still posed a credible threat?


The village itself was bound by no walls. The party made a beeline for the nearest large building, but it was a temple of Waukeen rather than a tavern. For a shrine to the goddess of coin the building was incredibly impoverished. There was the shadow of a mosaic of her face, like the one in Trademeet, but the tesserae of the mosaic had been chipped away.

People were staring at the newcomers, some even coming out of their houses to follow them down the street. They wore loose sandals which were more like strips of leather tied to their feet with cloth. Such shoes could serve no function other than to protect them from the worst of the blisteringly hot ground.

"I do not like the way these people are looking at us," Viconia said to Sarevok.

"Forgive them. They are not looking at you, they are looking at your horses," came a weary voice. They turned to see an old priest in tattered robes. His dry leathery skin clung to his shrunken face and his eyes had a hollow, hungry quality.

Now that he mentioned it, the peasants were staring at their mounts rather than them. Mostly with wide-eyed longing, although one or two with narrowed eyes were holding knives and weighing up their chances.

"Our horses?" Anomen echoed, with the blank cluelessness of the upper classes.

"They want to eat them," explained Coran, who had plenty of experience of hungry people from the refugee crisis Caelar Argent had once caused in Baldur's Gate. "These people are starving."

Arowan, before the numbing potions, would have handed them her horse on the spot along with all her gold and anything worth selling that they could trade for food. He thought of his own fortune gathering interest in Baldur's Gate regretfully. If he had but a hundredth of it to hand, he could solve all these people's problems overnight. He would have given them his own horse if only Arowan hadn't stolen it.

"We must beg for your aid. Our party needs water, quickly," Jaheira said.

The priest of Waukeen nodded slowly, his eyes creeping over the horse on which she sat.

"Perhaps we might negotiate a trade?" he suggested.

Rasaad dismounted and handed the reigns of his horse to the priest. Jaheira sighed bad-temperedly and followed suit. This left them only three horses; Sarevok's, Viconia's and Anomen's. They'd have to share. Viconia made a mental note not to let Rasaad onto the back of hers.

"We need our horses if we are to stand any chance of catching Arowan before she reaches Baldur's Gate!" protested Anomen.

"We have no chance of catching Arowan before she reaches Baldur's Gate," said Jaheira. "She's a ranger, she can easily avoid us and her water will last longer than ours because her horse won't need to drink."

"Why not?" puzzled Rasaad. In reply, Jaheira drew a line pointedly across her throat and then waggled her fingers to mime necromantic magic. The monk winced. "Ah."


The priest took them into his temple and the three luckier horses were given a trough of well water and some rest in a small, shaded paddock. There was no food for them but with any luck it would tide the animals over until they found some more hospitable terrain.

A small amount of food could, however, be spared for the providers of horse meat. He brought them well water (of this, at least, the locals seemed to have a reliable supply) and took away their water skins to refill them, leaving the party alone in the sparsely furnished house of worship.

Feeling it would be better to face the music sooner rather than later, Coran summoned Bhaal. The ragged little dog slunk out from under one of the pews and looked about him with round, lidless eyes.

SO, HOW BADLY DID THE ORDER LOSE?

"Why do you assume we lost?" snapped Anomen.

IF AROWAN WAS DEAD, I'D KNOW.

Of course, he would. She would merge into and become a part of him. Coran tugged at the scarf hiding the rope scar on his neck and began to explain the outcome of the battle and how he had shared a tent with Arowan afterwards. He did not explicitly say that the pair of them had sex, but Bhaal knew the elf well enough not to need to ask. The others watched on with interest, Sarevok especially. They were curious to see how Bhaal would take it.

"I'm sorry. Especially about losing Soultaker," Coran hung his head. "I loved her."

Jaheira's lip curled and she rolled her eyes. Coran fell in love far too readily. How quickly he had switched to using the past tense. Bhaal growled in irritation but gradually his snarl turned into a resigned sigh.

IF YOU HAD TRIED TO STOP HER, YOU'D BE DEAD AND SHE'D STILL HAVE SOULTAKER. IT'S OK MATE. I LOVE YOU TOO.

"No, I mean I fell in love. Romantic love. With Arowan."

I'M AROWAN. AROWAN IS ME.

"Not yet she isn't," snapped Jaheira.

SHE ALWAYS WAS AND ALWAYS WILL BE. SAME RUNNER, DIFFERENT STARTING LINE. THE BHAALSPAWN HAD DIFFERENT SPECIES, WERE RAISED IN DIFFERENT CULTURES WITH DIFFERENT VALUES AND SKILLS BUT SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE.

Coran cocked his head and looked at the mangled little dog. It was possible to get used to the way his exposed muscles slithered over one another, his unblinking stare and even the way this skinned-alive avatar would periodically sweat blood. It ceased to be horrific after a while, but only to a point.

"Do not take this the wrong way, Bhaal, but I am not attracted to you at all," he said flatly.

"And I am not attracted to you, elf," Sarevok chimed in hastily, just in case anybody had mistaken Bhaal's statement for a reflection of his own feelings.

AH, BUT YOU ARE!

Coran blinked at Sarevok in mild alarm. The demigod's golden eyes settled briefly on the elf, as though for a split second he was afraid that Bhaal might have some insight unknown even to him, but then he shook his head, clearly relieved at his total absence of arousal.

I DON'T MEAN IN A GAY WAY.

"What's wrong with that?" sniffed Jaheira. Bhaal groaned at her.

GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK! YOU CAN'T ACCUSE ME OF NOT BEING POLITICALLY CORRECT- I WAS FREYA! AND PLENTY OF OTHER GAY BHAALSPAWN BESIDES.

"Nobody, and I mean nobody, would ever have described Freya as 'politically correct,'" Jaheira replied caustically. "Do you even know what that phrase means?"

SHE WAS LITERALLY A POLITICIAN.

"Albeit not for very long," muttered the druid. "And in any case that isn't what politically correct means."

WHATEVER. THE POINT I WAS MAKING IS THAT THERE IS A REASON YOU LOT KEEP CROPPING UP IN MY LIVES AGAIN AND AGAIN. I'M DRAWN TO THE SAME PEOPLE. BECAUSE WHETHER I'M FREYA, AROWAN OR SAREVOK, DEEP DOWN I'M ALSO STILL ME.

Coran looked at his hands. He had felt drawn to Arowan within moments of meeting her. Freya too. Yes, because they were single women but there was more to it than that. Arowan hadn't been the most attractive woman to turn up in his life that day, nor even close. Was that the reason? She was a manifestation of Bhaal and if she also happened to be a potential sexual partner, so much the better?

They sat awkwardly for a while, then Bhaal asked casually;

WHERE ARE WE?

"Amkethran. It's a desert village to the east of-"

Bhaal cut them off with a yelp. He actually fell off the pew in alarm, before placing both front paws on Sarevok's back in a futile attempt to push him to his feet.

THIS IS BALTHAZAAR'S TERRITORY. YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!

"I am well aware of whose home this is," replied Sarevok, not budging an inch. "One of his monks handed me a map to this place."

AND YOU ACTUALLY FOLLOWED IT? ARE YOU MAD?

"We needed water," replied the Bhaalspawn flatly. "One of Balthazaar's monks handed me a map here, saying he wanted to make me an offer. This was the only place with water we knew we could reach."

I CAN FIND YOU WATER! I KNOW THIS REGION FROM DOZENS OF DIFFERENT LIFETIMES.

"Most of them chinchilla's," Viconia snickered. Bhaal ignored her, his eyes fixed imploringly on Sarevok.

YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE FAST!

The small god hopped down, took a mouthful of his wayward son's trouser leg and attempted to drag him away. Given their respective sizes this did nothing but irritate the Bhaalspawn, who lashed out with his foot sending Bhaal flying. Sarevok got to his feet, lifted Bhaal by the middle and held him to eyelevel.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

BECAUSE BALTHAZAAR WILL KILL YOU. IT'S A TRAP, OBVIOUSLY.

"Is it indeed?" asked Jaheira, equally untrusting. "I have heard you do nothing but champion the murder of Sarevok ever since you first clapped eyes on him. Now you claim to be trying to save his life? I wonder… what sort of offer does Balthazaar wish to make to Sarevok?"

THE SAME ONE HE MADE TO YAGA-SHURA AND SENDAI AND PROBABLY ABAZIGAL TOO!

"Which is?" Jaheira pressed.

A BAD ONE!

Bhaal was practically howling now, his distress palpable. Instead of being sympathetic however, the Bhaalspawn was looking at Jaheira and a grin was starting to creep over his face.

"It was my intention to leave as soon as the priest returned with our water," Sarevok said mildly. "But on reflection I'm minded to linger here a little longer. Whatever this offer is that you are so determined I not take, I would like to hear it."

"Careful, it could be a double bluff!" warned Anomen. "Perchance he is using reverse psychology to trick us into staying."

Jaheira, Coran, Rasaad and Viconia (all of the party who had known Freya in life) snorted with laughter.

"Not a chance," grinned Coran, but he would not elaborate. It was left to Viconia to explain the truth to the confused men.

"Bhaal isn't that smart," she smirked.


Writer's Note (OUTTAKES):

I wrote these stories in reverse order. These are scenes from a very early draft of the Ashes of Urst Natha with a few storylines that never made the final cut, but I really liked them as little pieces of stand-alone dialogue so here they are:

xx

Abandoned plotline #1 – Jaheira and Anomen have (very) drunk sex.

"Is there something going on with those two?" asked Coran.

"It is complicated," Rasaad replied heavily.

"They drank too much and had sex. He wants to make a thing of it. She doesn't," said Viconia bluntly.

"I suppose it is not so very complicated after all, when you put it like that," sighed Rasaad.

"It is cruel to use someone physically and then dump them," Rasaad remarked in a judgemental tone.

"Was that an attempt at humour?" snapped Viconia.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Of course you don't, Mooncalf," Viconia said through gritted teeth. "If you need me I will be in the stables."

"The stables? What for?"

"I need to speak to the proprietor about purchasing a gelding knife."

"Tough isn't it? Losing your closest friend?" said Coran casually.

"My 'close friend' spent the night with me and then rejected me. Your best friend was flayed alive and turned into a coat. I'm not sure how well those two situations compare," replied Anomen sourly.

"You've changed," said Coran. "You never used to be this cynical."

"What happened, happened," he answered bitterly. "Best to accept it and move on."

xx

Abandoned Plotline #2 – Hexxat

xx

"I never met Freya," replied Hexxat.

"You would have liked her," said Jaheira. "At least until she started talking."

"Doubtless you could have found ways of keeping her mouth occupied that would have spared you the need to hear her talk," said Rasaad.

You could have heard a feather drop in the silence that followed this remark. Everyone goggled at him in disbelief.

"Rasaad, exactly how many blows to the head have you been taking recently?" asked Neera slowly.

"Forgive me the vulgarity but were Freya still with us that would undoubtedly have been her response to what Jaheira just said," said Rasaad simply, "I thought it a fitting tribute to our fallen comrade to say it for her."

"Sounds like a ghastly woman," said Anomen with his customary sensitivity.

"She was. She really was," said Rasaad regretfully, "But I miss her."

"Just think 'female-Coran' but better looking. That was Freya," laughed Viconia. Rasaad frowned and shook his head.

"It was bravado," he reflected sadly. "She wanted to meet someone, get married, raise a family. She just didn't believe it would happen for her. 'Monsters don't get happy endings.' That's what she used to say."

For a moment the party stared into the flickering flames, lost for words. Though she and Freya had never met, the vampire looked especially pained. The phrase 'monsters don't get happy endings' seemed to have struck a nerve.

"Thank you," said Hexxat. "I feel like I do know her a little bit now."