Cursed Heritage 1 - The Dark Half
Chapter 10 - For a few gold pieces more
"Thank you, Aidan."
Officer Jessa Vai had already extended them the gratitude of the Flaming Fist, and given them the reward for their bandit scalps. The crowd at the Jovial Juggler inn of Beregost was jubilant, many patrons calling the companions heroes and buying them free drinks.
The battle hardened leader of the mercenary contingent saw fit to thank the young wizard personally.
"You efforts have not been in vain. I just received new orders from the city: my contingent and I have been asked to return there and make our reports. You will figure prominently in them and I assure you that our accounts will be favorable."
Shaking her hand, Aidan smiled in return of her praise.
It was certainly nice to be called a hero, something he had dreamed of being since his early childhood. He had heard hundreds of heroic legends from Gorion, and had often re-enacted them with his childhood friends: Imoen and Dreppin.
Drawing a deep swig from the tankard a serving wench had just given him, he wondered what Dreppin, Fuller and the rest of his Candlekeep friends were doing. Probably nothing of great importance, cleaning stables and swapping bawdy gossip with the other watchers.
Aidan watched the heavily armored mercenaries leave, and returned the goodbye wave of Officer Vai. His smile, however, had become forced.
Was it worth it? Being an adventuring hero. He remembered the brave priestess Branwen and her death. He remembered Gorion.
Grimacing, the young wizard put down his tankard. The ale had lost it's taste.
"What is it, Aidan?" Imoen asked him, having wandered away from the crowd of admiring young men she always managed to gather.
She's loving all of this, Aidan realized sourly.
Living in constant danger and excitement.
"I just... I think I'll go to my room." He answered his best friend, ignoring her questioning look and going up the stairs.
*-*-*
In the corner table sat another member of the adventuring company.
Kivan watched his comrades from under his hood, the occasional slight movement of his glittering eyes the only sign that he was awake.
Jaheira and Khalid were talking to a group of local farmers, probably about the rampaging undead and their creator: the evil cleric Bassilus. They had heard rumors that the dark priest had risen an army of the dead and was using them to kill innocent people with out any apparent reason or motive. Entire farms had supposedly been destroyed.
The girl Imoen had enchanted most of the young men of the tavern. She had probably picked most of their pockets too, the grim elf thought with some humor. She could certainly be charming, and once, long time ago, Kivan could perhaps have been interested in the company of such a woman.
Once.
Kivan didn't really think of himself as living anymore.
He had been a common soldier for his people, not one of noble birth. Brave and daring, he had rescued Deheriana Imryvil, the youngest daughter of a respected noble house from a group of drow raiders. The young frontier guard and princess had fallen in love, but the house of Imryvil didn't recognize their feelings in any way.
Deheriana was to wed a fellow noble, not a lowly guard no matter how heroic. Despite the protests of Deheriana herself, the situation remained unchanged until the disgusted captain of the frontier guard stepped in to break the stalemate. She adopted young Kivan into her own house, which was much older and more respected than Imryvil.
Suddenly everything was right in the world again.
Kivan and Deheriana were wed in a grand ceremony and theirs was said to be a union of love blessed by Hanali Celanil, the elven goddess of beauty and love herself.
He had felt so alive during those few, fleeting days.
Foolishly overconfident, he and Deheriana had taken a trip to a beautiful hidden lake Kivan had found on one of his long patrols. He had believed himself capable of protecting her from all harm.
The lake, hidden in a secret glade, had harbored an evil secret. A band of humanoid brigands was using it as a hideout from the elven frontier guards. A band lead by the cruel half-ogre Tazok.
Kivan had fought valiantly, killing many hobgoblins and orcs. But it was to no avail. Horribly tortured, he had endured the hardships thanks to his strength and training. Deheriana...
Kivan closed his eyes and clenched his fists. It didn't help, he felt bitter tears of agony flow down his cheeks.
The cruel bandits had left him for dead, believing that wild animals would finish Kivan off. Instead, a patrol found him days later, the accompanying cleric calling his survival a miracle and a gift from the elven gods.
Kivan had heard his words, and interpreted them in a twisted way fueled by his intense lust for revenge. If a god had saved him, surely it was to avenge the death of his wife?
For a long time, he had believed that. Hunting bandits and killing them, always looking for Tazok. Until his single-mindedness had caused a tragedy.
"No." He said aloud.
He had his nightmares, no reason to agonize about them during the waking hours.
Try as he might, he knew that he would never get over it.
Slowly, he relaxed his hands. His tears had dried. He was once again calm. Cold. Unfeeling.
Dead.
And he would be, for a while.
Until the next night, until the dreams.
*-*-*
Aidan was sitting in his room, studying his newest acquisitions. Mara was gently snoring on the window pane.
The bandits had possessed a number of spell books and scrolls, no doubt captured from their victims. They contained various powerful and not-so- powerful spells, some of which would grant Aidan considerable power in battle.
"Hmm... "Flame Arrow"..." Now THAT was a spell! Too bad that it was still out of his reach.
He took a sip from the herbal tea he had requested from the serving wench. He always drank that herbal mixture, a throwback to his apprentice days.
Aidan let out a small laugh.
It had started as a punishment of sorts, since Gorion had known he hated tea. So every time he had misbehaved or practiced his cantrips on Dreppin or Phlydia's cat, the old sage made Aidan drink a cup of that horrible tasting herbal tea.
"Strengthens your wits!" Gorion had scolded the young sprat.
And over time, he had grown accustomed to studying the "Art" while drinking that herbal tea. Perhaps the old sage had been right? Aidan was a quick and easy learner these days.
Taking another sip, he grimaced at the strong taste.
There was a gentle knock from the door.
"Yes, come inside! It's not locked!" he yelled out, half expecting to see Imoen, trying to drag him to enjoy the "celebration".
It was Jaheira.
"I came to ask your opinion on whether we should go an try to hunt down this Bassilus? Khalid and I already gave our agreement to governor Ormlyr's functionary downstairs, but I thought it was best if I asked all of you first."
Aidan tried to conceal his annoyed expression.
Jaheira had clearly already decided that they would take the quest. Not that he objected per se, tracking down a murderous, necromantic evil priest was clearly the right thing for "heroes" to do, but...
"Yes, yes of course." He gave the warrior druid a weary smile. She nodded, and bade him a good night.
"...but it would be nice for you to stop being so damn sure of our unquestioned support." He finished his thoughts aloud.
He sighed in dread of the coming travails.
The vast Cloakwood, this Davaeorn, the Iron Throne and now this Bassilus too.
When and where it would all end?
It was the uncertainty of his current life, the young wizard decided. Perhaps after he had punished Gorion's killer and solved the mystery of these assassination attempts, that he would start to appreciate being an adventurer and a hero.
Rubbing his temples and cursing the sudden headache, Aidan went to bed.
Loud music and raucous singing could be heard from downstairs.
Pushing a pillow to his ears, Aidan cursed and reached for a spell component pouch from a nearby stool. Magically induced or not, he WOULD get some sleep!
*-*-*
Downstairs, Khalid saw his wife return.
Giving her a questioning look, she nodded back at her husband and smiled.
"S-so we're all in agreement then? We find this m-mad Cyricist and put an end to his evil?" he asked Jaheira.
"Indeed. A former Zhent, perhaps?" she raised her eyebrow at the thought.
"Remember the last two, that insane necromancer and his diminutive thug?" she continued in a casual tone, sipping her wine.
"Y-you don't still t-think that the Zhentarim are responsible for the iron shortage?" Khalid asked her.
"Of course not, don't be a fool!" the irate druid snapped back.
"I never thought they were, it is this Iron Throne. You do know of their recent antics in Cormyr?"
Khalid didn't answer. He had no idea, having usually remained ignorant of the political situation by choice rather than being simply ignorant. He didn't really care for such things, as long as the higher ups in Harper hierarchy were satisfied. He also knew that Jaheira was his complete opposite at this, like in so many other things.
The energetic and opinionated warrior druid had often come into conflict with even other Harpers. What was that one in particular... Galvarey. Khalid winced at the memory. He considered himself... subtle, preferring to bow out of fights rather than argue for his point of view. He also knew that some Harpers considered him a weakling because of this.
"N-no. I can't say I really d-do." He stammered, blushing a bit when he saw his wife's look of annoyance.
"You don't. Well, they were forbidden to ply their trade in Cormyr for having been caught in illegal acts... You did know that they are a mercantile guild?" she asked sarcastically.
"Yes, I do my dear. So, uh... how do think this Bassilus is... related to the crisis... if the Zhentarim aren't the ones behind it?" Khalid replied, hoping to steer the conversation away from his ignorances.
"Well, it is obvious! The Iron Throne is hoping to frame the Zhents. That's what those two scumbags we traveled with were investigating, I reckon. Perhaps this Bassilus is another one?" she answered.
Khalid was ignorant in the political arena, but he was no fool.
"T-that doesn't make any sense. Why w-would he start ravaging the countryside if he was investigating the Iron Throne?" he asked her incredulously.
"I don't know. But he is causing mayhem and it is our duty to stop him. The fact that he is a Zhent is only an added benefit, so to speak." She smiled at her husband.
"Tomorrow, we invest some of out hard won spoils and then the day after that, we start searching for this so called "Mad Cleric Bassilus"." She continued, rising from the table and stretching her weary muscles.
"Y-yes my dear. But we should h-hurry. That mine in Cloakwood may receive reinforcements if w-we tarry. And I k-know Aidan is anxious to g-get there." Khalid replied his wife, also rising to follow her upstairs.
*-*-*
Unaware to the companions, a cunning pair of eyes had monitored their activities all evening. Seeing Khalid and Jaheira retire, the unknown observer slid open the panel separating her private chamber from the main festhall.
Safana stepped outside and grinned to herself.
Oh yes, these adventurers were just what she had been looking for!
Ignoring the pleading stares from the various patrons who saw her, the ravishing redhead quickly left the inn.
*-*-*
"Here you go, darlin'." Safana purred, and threw the urchin a silver coin.
Knowing full well that the teenager was intently observing her backside, she grinned. She expected that, knowing full well the effect of her gorgeous looks had on the menfolk.
Walking at her leisurely pace, she headed for the large rock outside of town she knew the adventurers would pass as they returned to the town from High Hedge, home of the unfriendly archmage Thalantyr.
Settling down to sit and wait for them, she pulled out a flask of very expensive wine, one that she had no hope of ever legitimately purchasing with her current funds. Drawing out one of Feldepost's finest crystal goblets, she poured a glass and silently saluted herself.
Safana was a thief and an opportunist, and her latest scheme required the aid of powerful warriors and spellcasters.
Ah, there!
She saw a group of five humans and demi-humans approaching from the direction she was observing, who could only be the ones she was expecting.
On the lead walked the tall and unusually well-muscled elf, wrapped in his worn green cloak. As the high wind whipped it around him, Safana could see the well made and intricate, but worn studded leather armor and a long sword on his lap. Kivan, she recalled his name, would have been quite handsome, but his cold eyes and grim expression ruined the overall package she decided. Over his back he had slung a long bow and a quiver of arrows.
Next came a pair of half-elves, both well armed and confident looking. The male was encased in an impressive suit of plate mail and carried a fine looking shield. On his lap was a sword and he wore a red plumed helmet on his head. The woman carried only a staff, but she was wearing splint mail and wore an intricate helmet. The most curious were her gauntlets, which seemed to serve no real protective purpose. Undoubtedly enchanted, the worldly young woman decided.
The final ones approaching were a red headed young girl and a slim but otherwise well-built brown haired youth, wearing dark gray robes and a staff. The girl was wearing dark brown leather armor on top of her casual but formfitting clothing and carried a fine bow.
Grinning confidently, she chose her target. No matter if those two youngsters were intimate or not, she was quite experienced in these matters.
Now all she had to do was get their attention.
*-*-*
"Aidan!"
Imoen's sudden change of tone in their casual conversation caused the young wizard to glance up sharply.
Ahead of them, sitting on a huge boulder stood a woman. She held out her hand and beckoned the companions to approach, which they did though warily. As Khalid and Jaheira got closer, the woman jumped down and walked right past them.
She walked straight to Aidan and greeted him much too warmly for a stranger.
"Hullo my dear. You must be... Aidan?" she purred to the stunned young wizard.
Aidan caught himself gawking at the broadly smiling, gorgeous young red head.
"I... yes. How do you...?" he began.
"Doesn't matter, darlin'. You're the leader of the heroes of Beregost, the ones that everyone is talking about. Seems like the rumors are true, then." She continued, edging closer and placing her hands at the stunned wizards chest.
"Whu-what rumors would those be?" Aidan blurted out, suddenly intrigued despite himself.
Tossing her hair in mock amazement, the beautiful redhead smiled sweetly.
"Well! The rumors that tell of a group of great heroes, lead by the handsome and powerful young wizard... Aidan. Yes. I have to say, I am impressed." She continued, concentrating her considerable charms on the young wizard.
"Who are you girl? And what do you want?" Jaheira interjected, in a very irritated tone.
Whirling around to face her, the girl kept her smile on.
"My name is Safana, and I have an offer to make." She replied to the irate druidess.
"I can help you locate this Bassilus... and more!" she continued, turning towards Aidan again.
"There is a treasure that I know of, which could make us, ALL of us, very rich." She finished glibly, trying to capture the young wizards gaze in her own smoldering eyes.
"Excuse me... Safana?" Jaheira cut in again.
"How is it that you can help us find this Bassilus?" she asked in a skeptical tone of voice.
"I know where he's hiding." The girl answered, without bothering to turn towards Jaheira.
"And I'll take you... US there. But you have to promise me..." she didn't take her eyes off Aidan's for one moment, not that the young wizard complained.
"...You'll accompany me to the cave, where Black Alaric's treasure is hidden." She purred, leaving her lips slightly parted as she waited in askance, still looking intently at Aidan's eyes.
Scowling, Jaheira pulled Aidan to the side.
"One moment, Safana. We will have to consider your offer." She snapped to the redhead.
The group withdrew to a side, leaving Safana to sip her wine on the road.
She smiled in secret joy, already knowing what their answer would be.
*-*-*
Walking as last of the companions, Imoen spied Aidan chatting intensely with their newest "acquisition", Safana. Pursing her mouth, the girl cursed silently.
She didn't trust that wench.
In fact, Imoen had been the only one to vote against taking Safana with them. There was something fishy about her. Not that she really believed that anyone of her friends had bought into the wench's act. Money was what she was after, which she had made clear herself.
But still, there was something else...
For instance, Safana carried no weapon larger than a dagger. She couldn't therefore be trusted in a fight, unless she was either a wizard or a cleric. Imoen had picked up no clues to support her being either, so if she couldn't be trusted to fight...
Cursing again, Imoen decided to keep close watch on Safana.
*-*-*
"It shouldn't be much further." Safana informed them.
The companions had travelled for a few days, reaching the rocky hills west of Beregost, where Safana claimed Bassilus was hiding. She had told them having come across the mad cleric while originally searching the cave of Black Alaric by herself. According to her, the priest of Cyric had surrounded himself with a legion of animated skeletons and zombies in a ancient stone circle.
It was supposedly very near.
As if summoned by the thoughts of their soon-to-come grim task, the sky began to darken, and the first distant rumblings of thunder could be heard.
The dry and rocky ground made for difficult traveling, especially for the heavily armored Khalid. The earth was loose and filled with sliding rocks that threatened injuries to the ankles.
Aidan saw the first drops fall, leaving visible marks to the barren, parched earth wherever they fell. Lightning flashed in the distance, and soon after came the accompanying clap of thunder.
"What the..." the young wizard was alerted to Imoen's quiet exclamation.
A group of silent forms were approaching.
Skeletons and zombies.
Everyone drew their weapons, Safana expected.
As the undead shambled closer, Aidan could see the remnants of clothing and burial garb on their bony frames. Some of the zombies were recently deceased, and wore armor and carried weapons.
Remnants of previous "heroes", Aidan realized. He could hear Jaheira chanting a familiar spell, one which would cause the roots and vines raise from the earth and hold their enemies in place. It would be an easy task to outmaneuver the dimwitted undead then, and destroy them one by one.
Looking at the remains of a young wizard, now re-animated as a mindless zombie, Aidan winced.
Jaheira completed her spell, and the dead were immobilized, leaving a grisly but very necessary task for the companions.
Aidan made a conscious decision to attack the skeletons instead of the unfortunate young adventurers.
*-*-*
It soon became obvious that the farmers hadn't exaggerated the threat this Bassilus posed to the region.
After destroying the first group of walking dead, the companions soon came across another. And after them, another and so on. They tried to evade the wandering groups of undead after a few encounters, using Mara as a scout. But they still had to deal with some, while at the same time conserving spells their strength for the real menace: Bassilus. The fighting was made more difficult also due to the fact that Safana didn't participate in them.
She merely explained her non-involvement due to being a "non-warrior" and praising the party's heroics.
The constant pressure was starting to wear the companions down, and they were running low on their healing magic. Trying to appear cheerful, Aidan gave his last healing potion to Khalid, who had been wounded in their latest, recently ended skirmish with six skeletons wearing rusting scythes and other farming tools as weaponry.
Suddenly he became aware of someone watching him. Whirling around, he saw a dirty, raggedly little boy observing them from the thorny bushes.
"Sssh! I'm spyin' on Bassillus an' his spooks. They're funny." The child raised a finger to his lips and giggled.
"This is no place for a child! Return home to Beregost at once and run every step of the way!" Aidan responded, thinking what awful fate would befall the child if one of the undead found him.
"I ain't got no home to go to there, not since Mom an' Johnny disappeared. I been looking for them but all I can ever find is these spooks." The boy answered him.
"One of them's wearing Johnny's knickers, though, but I don't want to think of where it got 'em... Be careful you don't scare Bassillus, okay?" and with that, he ran off from his hiding place into the rain before Aidan could further cajole him.
"Aidan!"
His heart heavy, the young wizard turned to Jaheira's call just in time to see an ancient stone circle briefly lit in the flash of lightning, containing multiple silent forms.
They had found the madman's hide out.
*-*-*
Having hurriedly created a plan to kill the evil cleric, the companions stealthily crept closer to the mad cleric's hideout. Aidan saw that ten's of skeletons and zombies were silently gathered around a man and a single zombie.
The man was certainly Bassilus.
As they drew closer, tensing to launch their surprise attack and take out as many of the undead as possible before they could react, the companions could see that the evil priest was holding a conversation with the zombie.
"Heh Hurh Heh!" Bassilus cackled, actually clapping his hands.
"Oh brother Thurm, why not grace our ears with a ripping tale of the old days! Always a delight!" he continued his demented repartee.
The zombie, being a mindless drone merely moaned in answer.
"O don't hesitate on my account! Some of the others may not have heard them." Bassilus pleaded, making a sweeping gesture towards the gathered crowd of undead.
A hissing sound from it's rotten lungs was the only reply he got from the zombie.
Looking sad and confused for a moment, the madman scratched his head.
"Hold your peace then, though I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you would sooner die than be quiet. You...would sooner...um... I'll wait 'til you feel like telling them yourself, I don't remember the old days so well." He continued his blabbing.
The companions were now at a distance where the dead should already have attacked. Perhaps the evil priest hadn't yet given these particular monstrosities instructions, Aidan wondered.
Motioning Kivan and Imoen to train their bows at Bassilus, he decided to satisfy his curiosity.
"You there, what is the meaning of this..." he yelled out.
Sneering in sudden anger, the mad clerics head snapped up from his funk.
"Who dares interrupt while I speak with my family." Bassilus screamed back in rage.
"I'll have your heads if you're here to harm the...no!" he started to continue, then peered at Aidan in amazement.
"It can't be! Is that you Father? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed a bit in all these years!"
Glancing hurriedly at his companions, Aidan made a small gesture towards Bassilus, who was looking at him mouth agape.
"Uhh... yes, son, it certainly has been a long time. How are you doing... my boy?" he replied to the evil cleric, buying for time as Jaheira and Khalid edged closer, weapons drawn.
"About as well as can be expected I guess. It has been difficult but I've got most of the family back together. Some did not seem to recognize me at first, but I helped them recall." The madman replied eagerly, making a sweeping gesture at his "family".
Aidan tried to hide the disgust he felt from his voice, and continued:
"No matter. I've not seen you since... um... Zhentil Keep. Thank the gods we all got out safely." He forced a smile to his face.
Khalid and Jaheira were getting close to the maniac.
"Yes, though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of us that survived. I thought I was the only one who... the only one." He stammered, suddenly sneering in angered realization.
"You lie. YOU LIE! You cannot be my father because he died when I left the... when I..." growing befuddled again, Bassilus scratched his head, glancing around in confusion.
"When you ran from your home leaving them to die?" Aidan answered in an angry voice, heving decided to launch the attack before the mad priest had the chance give orders to his undead slaves.
"You are a coward and a murderer, and today you face judgment!" he finished, turning around to wave at Kivan and Imoen, who immediatly fired their arrows at Bassilus.
Grunting in anger as the shafts penetrated his chain mail covered chest, the evil priest grabbed his golden war hammer and pointed accusingly at Aidan.
"No! They lived, all of them! I saved them and they live! I... I ran. Dead... all dead. It isn't true! It cannot be... You lie! You will die for slighting my memory!" he screamed, suddenly becoming aware of the charging Khalid and Jaheira.
Screaming in rage, oblivious of two more arrows embedding themselves in his chest, the evil cleric charged Khalid, hacking with his weapon.
While catching Khalid with surprise at his sudden energy, the half-elf managed to block Bassilus' wild swings. Aidan launced two "Magic Missiles" at him while Jaheira hit him in the neck with her staff. Even that wasn't enough to drop him. It took the by now recovered Khalid striking his right hand clean off to fall the evil, mad priest.
Bleeding profusely, he still tried to claw his way towards Khalid until Jaheira administered the killing blow.
Bassilus was dead.
*-*-*
"Congratulations!" Jaheira turned around and saw Safana, who had watched the short and bloody battle from the safety of the bushes.
The undead gathering had been put down easily, since the "unprogrammed" skeletons and zombies offered no resistance.
Scowling at the young redhead, Jaheira glanced at the corpse filled shrine.
Bassilus had apparently played dress-up with his "family", as some of the zombied were clad in a curious mixture of Cyricist and Zhentarim garb and farm clothes. Imoen was already hard at work, prying the more valuable jewelry and possible magic items for Aidan to identify.
Their "guide" hadn't lied, and now it was their turn to aid her. Find this Black Alaric's treasure, surely guarded by traps and other dangers and loot it.
Sighing in disgust, the druid knew that at least Imoen, possibly Aidan too would love the idea of ransacking a pirate hoard. Bending over the mad priest's corpse, the druidess yanked his holy symbol loose. It was what Governor Kelddath had requested.
She saw that Safana was again chatting with Aidan.
Khalid came over to his wife and smiled after seeing the two young humans.
"W-well, one less Cyricist. It will t-take some time buh-before the countryside is s-safe again, b-but at least there'll be no m-more created." He stammered, looking quite pleased.
Jaheira nodded, having to acknowledge her husband being right.
*-*-*
In addition to the magical weapon the evil cleric had possessed, the party found a nice amount of jewelry and gold coins from the site. Safana had declined from getting a share, only asking that she'd be given the sixth of the loot from Black Alaric's treasure, once they had found it.
After having cleared out the shrine, the companions gathered the corpses of the former undead and Bassilus himself and made a huge pyre. The rain had ceased and aided by a "Flaming Hands" spell from Aidan, the fire was soon burning brightly.
Determined to rest once sufficiently far from the still dangerous hill country, the companions headed for the coast.
Smiling slyly, Safana led the way.
Everything was proceeding the way she had planned. The companions were indeed formidable, but not too strong. She had toned down her flirting once she had realized that Aidan wasn't the type she could easily wrap around her finger. Instead, she had resorted to being kind, considerate and giving out lavish praise.
The wizard was a young man, foppish but shy. She had already managed to find out quite a lot about him, his companions and especially certain malicious forces they were enemies of. She knew what the companions could do now.
Her smile only widened.
They would never catch her.
Chapter 10 - For a few gold pieces more
"Thank you, Aidan."
Officer Jessa Vai had already extended them the gratitude of the Flaming Fist, and given them the reward for their bandit scalps. The crowd at the Jovial Juggler inn of Beregost was jubilant, many patrons calling the companions heroes and buying them free drinks.
The battle hardened leader of the mercenary contingent saw fit to thank the young wizard personally.
"You efforts have not been in vain. I just received new orders from the city: my contingent and I have been asked to return there and make our reports. You will figure prominently in them and I assure you that our accounts will be favorable."
Shaking her hand, Aidan smiled in return of her praise.
It was certainly nice to be called a hero, something he had dreamed of being since his early childhood. He had heard hundreds of heroic legends from Gorion, and had often re-enacted them with his childhood friends: Imoen and Dreppin.
Drawing a deep swig from the tankard a serving wench had just given him, he wondered what Dreppin, Fuller and the rest of his Candlekeep friends were doing. Probably nothing of great importance, cleaning stables and swapping bawdy gossip with the other watchers.
Aidan watched the heavily armored mercenaries leave, and returned the goodbye wave of Officer Vai. His smile, however, had become forced.
Was it worth it? Being an adventuring hero. He remembered the brave priestess Branwen and her death. He remembered Gorion.
Grimacing, the young wizard put down his tankard. The ale had lost it's taste.
"What is it, Aidan?" Imoen asked him, having wandered away from the crowd of admiring young men she always managed to gather.
She's loving all of this, Aidan realized sourly.
Living in constant danger and excitement.
"I just... I think I'll go to my room." He answered his best friend, ignoring her questioning look and going up the stairs.
*-*-*
In the corner table sat another member of the adventuring company.
Kivan watched his comrades from under his hood, the occasional slight movement of his glittering eyes the only sign that he was awake.
Jaheira and Khalid were talking to a group of local farmers, probably about the rampaging undead and their creator: the evil cleric Bassilus. They had heard rumors that the dark priest had risen an army of the dead and was using them to kill innocent people with out any apparent reason or motive. Entire farms had supposedly been destroyed.
The girl Imoen had enchanted most of the young men of the tavern. She had probably picked most of their pockets too, the grim elf thought with some humor. She could certainly be charming, and once, long time ago, Kivan could perhaps have been interested in the company of such a woman.
Once.
Kivan didn't really think of himself as living anymore.
He had been a common soldier for his people, not one of noble birth. Brave and daring, he had rescued Deheriana Imryvil, the youngest daughter of a respected noble house from a group of drow raiders. The young frontier guard and princess had fallen in love, but the house of Imryvil didn't recognize their feelings in any way.
Deheriana was to wed a fellow noble, not a lowly guard no matter how heroic. Despite the protests of Deheriana herself, the situation remained unchanged until the disgusted captain of the frontier guard stepped in to break the stalemate. She adopted young Kivan into her own house, which was much older and more respected than Imryvil.
Suddenly everything was right in the world again.
Kivan and Deheriana were wed in a grand ceremony and theirs was said to be a union of love blessed by Hanali Celanil, the elven goddess of beauty and love herself.
He had felt so alive during those few, fleeting days.
Foolishly overconfident, he and Deheriana had taken a trip to a beautiful hidden lake Kivan had found on one of his long patrols. He had believed himself capable of protecting her from all harm.
The lake, hidden in a secret glade, had harbored an evil secret. A band of humanoid brigands was using it as a hideout from the elven frontier guards. A band lead by the cruel half-ogre Tazok.
Kivan had fought valiantly, killing many hobgoblins and orcs. But it was to no avail. Horribly tortured, he had endured the hardships thanks to his strength and training. Deheriana...
Kivan closed his eyes and clenched his fists. It didn't help, he felt bitter tears of agony flow down his cheeks.
The cruel bandits had left him for dead, believing that wild animals would finish Kivan off. Instead, a patrol found him days later, the accompanying cleric calling his survival a miracle and a gift from the elven gods.
Kivan had heard his words, and interpreted them in a twisted way fueled by his intense lust for revenge. If a god had saved him, surely it was to avenge the death of his wife?
For a long time, he had believed that. Hunting bandits and killing them, always looking for Tazok. Until his single-mindedness had caused a tragedy.
"No." He said aloud.
He had his nightmares, no reason to agonize about them during the waking hours.
Try as he might, he knew that he would never get over it.
Slowly, he relaxed his hands. His tears had dried. He was once again calm. Cold. Unfeeling.
Dead.
And he would be, for a while.
Until the next night, until the dreams.
*-*-*
Aidan was sitting in his room, studying his newest acquisitions. Mara was gently snoring on the window pane.
The bandits had possessed a number of spell books and scrolls, no doubt captured from their victims. They contained various powerful and not-so- powerful spells, some of which would grant Aidan considerable power in battle.
"Hmm... "Flame Arrow"..." Now THAT was a spell! Too bad that it was still out of his reach.
He took a sip from the herbal tea he had requested from the serving wench. He always drank that herbal mixture, a throwback to his apprentice days.
Aidan let out a small laugh.
It had started as a punishment of sorts, since Gorion had known he hated tea. So every time he had misbehaved or practiced his cantrips on Dreppin or Phlydia's cat, the old sage made Aidan drink a cup of that horrible tasting herbal tea.
"Strengthens your wits!" Gorion had scolded the young sprat.
And over time, he had grown accustomed to studying the "Art" while drinking that herbal tea. Perhaps the old sage had been right? Aidan was a quick and easy learner these days.
Taking another sip, he grimaced at the strong taste.
There was a gentle knock from the door.
"Yes, come inside! It's not locked!" he yelled out, half expecting to see Imoen, trying to drag him to enjoy the "celebration".
It was Jaheira.
"I came to ask your opinion on whether we should go an try to hunt down this Bassilus? Khalid and I already gave our agreement to governor Ormlyr's functionary downstairs, but I thought it was best if I asked all of you first."
Aidan tried to conceal his annoyed expression.
Jaheira had clearly already decided that they would take the quest. Not that he objected per se, tracking down a murderous, necromantic evil priest was clearly the right thing for "heroes" to do, but...
"Yes, yes of course." He gave the warrior druid a weary smile. She nodded, and bade him a good night.
"...but it would be nice for you to stop being so damn sure of our unquestioned support." He finished his thoughts aloud.
He sighed in dread of the coming travails.
The vast Cloakwood, this Davaeorn, the Iron Throne and now this Bassilus too.
When and where it would all end?
It was the uncertainty of his current life, the young wizard decided. Perhaps after he had punished Gorion's killer and solved the mystery of these assassination attempts, that he would start to appreciate being an adventurer and a hero.
Rubbing his temples and cursing the sudden headache, Aidan went to bed.
Loud music and raucous singing could be heard from downstairs.
Pushing a pillow to his ears, Aidan cursed and reached for a spell component pouch from a nearby stool. Magically induced or not, he WOULD get some sleep!
*-*-*
Downstairs, Khalid saw his wife return.
Giving her a questioning look, she nodded back at her husband and smiled.
"S-so we're all in agreement then? We find this m-mad Cyricist and put an end to his evil?" he asked Jaheira.
"Indeed. A former Zhent, perhaps?" she raised her eyebrow at the thought.
"Remember the last two, that insane necromancer and his diminutive thug?" she continued in a casual tone, sipping her wine.
"Y-you don't still t-think that the Zhentarim are responsible for the iron shortage?" Khalid asked her.
"Of course not, don't be a fool!" the irate druid snapped back.
"I never thought they were, it is this Iron Throne. You do know of their recent antics in Cormyr?"
Khalid didn't answer. He had no idea, having usually remained ignorant of the political situation by choice rather than being simply ignorant. He didn't really care for such things, as long as the higher ups in Harper hierarchy were satisfied. He also knew that Jaheira was his complete opposite at this, like in so many other things.
The energetic and opinionated warrior druid had often come into conflict with even other Harpers. What was that one in particular... Galvarey. Khalid winced at the memory. He considered himself... subtle, preferring to bow out of fights rather than argue for his point of view. He also knew that some Harpers considered him a weakling because of this.
"N-no. I can't say I really d-do." He stammered, blushing a bit when he saw his wife's look of annoyance.
"You don't. Well, they were forbidden to ply their trade in Cormyr for having been caught in illegal acts... You did know that they are a mercantile guild?" she asked sarcastically.
"Yes, I do my dear. So, uh... how do think this Bassilus is... related to the crisis... if the Zhentarim aren't the ones behind it?" Khalid replied, hoping to steer the conversation away from his ignorances.
"Well, it is obvious! The Iron Throne is hoping to frame the Zhents. That's what those two scumbags we traveled with were investigating, I reckon. Perhaps this Bassilus is another one?" she answered.
Khalid was ignorant in the political arena, but he was no fool.
"T-that doesn't make any sense. Why w-would he start ravaging the countryside if he was investigating the Iron Throne?" he asked her incredulously.
"I don't know. But he is causing mayhem and it is our duty to stop him. The fact that he is a Zhent is only an added benefit, so to speak." She smiled at her husband.
"Tomorrow, we invest some of out hard won spoils and then the day after that, we start searching for this so called "Mad Cleric Bassilus"." She continued, rising from the table and stretching her weary muscles.
"Y-yes my dear. But we should h-hurry. That mine in Cloakwood may receive reinforcements if w-we tarry. And I k-know Aidan is anxious to g-get there." Khalid replied his wife, also rising to follow her upstairs.
*-*-*
Unaware to the companions, a cunning pair of eyes had monitored their activities all evening. Seeing Khalid and Jaheira retire, the unknown observer slid open the panel separating her private chamber from the main festhall.
Safana stepped outside and grinned to herself.
Oh yes, these adventurers were just what she had been looking for!
Ignoring the pleading stares from the various patrons who saw her, the ravishing redhead quickly left the inn.
*-*-*
"Here you go, darlin'." Safana purred, and threw the urchin a silver coin.
Knowing full well that the teenager was intently observing her backside, she grinned. She expected that, knowing full well the effect of her gorgeous looks had on the menfolk.
Walking at her leisurely pace, she headed for the large rock outside of town she knew the adventurers would pass as they returned to the town from High Hedge, home of the unfriendly archmage Thalantyr.
Settling down to sit and wait for them, she pulled out a flask of very expensive wine, one that she had no hope of ever legitimately purchasing with her current funds. Drawing out one of Feldepost's finest crystal goblets, she poured a glass and silently saluted herself.
Safana was a thief and an opportunist, and her latest scheme required the aid of powerful warriors and spellcasters.
Ah, there!
She saw a group of five humans and demi-humans approaching from the direction she was observing, who could only be the ones she was expecting.
On the lead walked the tall and unusually well-muscled elf, wrapped in his worn green cloak. As the high wind whipped it around him, Safana could see the well made and intricate, but worn studded leather armor and a long sword on his lap. Kivan, she recalled his name, would have been quite handsome, but his cold eyes and grim expression ruined the overall package she decided. Over his back he had slung a long bow and a quiver of arrows.
Next came a pair of half-elves, both well armed and confident looking. The male was encased in an impressive suit of plate mail and carried a fine looking shield. On his lap was a sword and he wore a red plumed helmet on his head. The woman carried only a staff, but she was wearing splint mail and wore an intricate helmet. The most curious were her gauntlets, which seemed to serve no real protective purpose. Undoubtedly enchanted, the worldly young woman decided.
The final ones approaching were a red headed young girl and a slim but otherwise well-built brown haired youth, wearing dark gray robes and a staff. The girl was wearing dark brown leather armor on top of her casual but formfitting clothing and carried a fine bow.
Grinning confidently, she chose her target. No matter if those two youngsters were intimate or not, she was quite experienced in these matters.
Now all she had to do was get their attention.
*-*-*
"Aidan!"
Imoen's sudden change of tone in their casual conversation caused the young wizard to glance up sharply.
Ahead of them, sitting on a huge boulder stood a woman. She held out her hand and beckoned the companions to approach, which they did though warily. As Khalid and Jaheira got closer, the woman jumped down and walked right past them.
She walked straight to Aidan and greeted him much too warmly for a stranger.
"Hullo my dear. You must be... Aidan?" she purred to the stunned young wizard.
Aidan caught himself gawking at the broadly smiling, gorgeous young red head.
"I... yes. How do you...?" he began.
"Doesn't matter, darlin'. You're the leader of the heroes of Beregost, the ones that everyone is talking about. Seems like the rumors are true, then." She continued, edging closer and placing her hands at the stunned wizards chest.
"Whu-what rumors would those be?" Aidan blurted out, suddenly intrigued despite himself.
Tossing her hair in mock amazement, the beautiful redhead smiled sweetly.
"Well! The rumors that tell of a group of great heroes, lead by the handsome and powerful young wizard... Aidan. Yes. I have to say, I am impressed." She continued, concentrating her considerable charms on the young wizard.
"Who are you girl? And what do you want?" Jaheira interjected, in a very irritated tone.
Whirling around to face her, the girl kept her smile on.
"My name is Safana, and I have an offer to make." She replied to the irate druidess.
"I can help you locate this Bassilus... and more!" she continued, turning towards Aidan again.
"There is a treasure that I know of, which could make us, ALL of us, very rich." She finished glibly, trying to capture the young wizards gaze in her own smoldering eyes.
"Excuse me... Safana?" Jaheira cut in again.
"How is it that you can help us find this Bassilus?" she asked in a skeptical tone of voice.
"I know where he's hiding." The girl answered, without bothering to turn towards Jaheira.
"And I'll take you... US there. But you have to promise me..." she didn't take her eyes off Aidan's for one moment, not that the young wizard complained.
"...You'll accompany me to the cave, where Black Alaric's treasure is hidden." She purred, leaving her lips slightly parted as she waited in askance, still looking intently at Aidan's eyes.
Scowling, Jaheira pulled Aidan to the side.
"One moment, Safana. We will have to consider your offer." She snapped to the redhead.
The group withdrew to a side, leaving Safana to sip her wine on the road.
She smiled in secret joy, already knowing what their answer would be.
*-*-*
Walking as last of the companions, Imoen spied Aidan chatting intensely with their newest "acquisition", Safana. Pursing her mouth, the girl cursed silently.
She didn't trust that wench.
In fact, Imoen had been the only one to vote against taking Safana with them. There was something fishy about her. Not that she really believed that anyone of her friends had bought into the wench's act. Money was what she was after, which she had made clear herself.
But still, there was something else...
For instance, Safana carried no weapon larger than a dagger. She couldn't therefore be trusted in a fight, unless she was either a wizard or a cleric. Imoen had picked up no clues to support her being either, so if she couldn't be trusted to fight...
Cursing again, Imoen decided to keep close watch on Safana.
*-*-*
"It shouldn't be much further." Safana informed them.
The companions had travelled for a few days, reaching the rocky hills west of Beregost, where Safana claimed Bassilus was hiding. She had told them having come across the mad cleric while originally searching the cave of Black Alaric by herself. According to her, the priest of Cyric had surrounded himself with a legion of animated skeletons and zombies in a ancient stone circle.
It was supposedly very near.
As if summoned by the thoughts of their soon-to-come grim task, the sky began to darken, and the first distant rumblings of thunder could be heard.
The dry and rocky ground made for difficult traveling, especially for the heavily armored Khalid. The earth was loose and filled with sliding rocks that threatened injuries to the ankles.
Aidan saw the first drops fall, leaving visible marks to the barren, parched earth wherever they fell. Lightning flashed in the distance, and soon after came the accompanying clap of thunder.
"What the..." the young wizard was alerted to Imoen's quiet exclamation.
A group of silent forms were approaching.
Skeletons and zombies.
Everyone drew their weapons, Safana expected.
As the undead shambled closer, Aidan could see the remnants of clothing and burial garb on their bony frames. Some of the zombies were recently deceased, and wore armor and carried weapons.
Remnants of previous "heroes", Aidan realized. He could hear Jaheira chanting a familiar spell, one which would cause the roots and vines raise from the earth and hold their enemies in place. It would be an easy task to outmaneuver the dimwitted undead then, and destroy them one by one.
Looking at the remains of a young wizard, now re-animated as a mindless zombie, Aidan winced.
Jaheira completed her spell, and the dead were immobilized, leaving a grisly but very necessary task for the companions.
Aidan made a conscious decision to attack the skeletons instead of the unfortunate young adventurers.
*-*-*
It soon became obvious that the farmers hadn't exaggerated the threat this Bassilus posed to the region.
After destroying the first group of walking dead, the companions soon came across another. And after them, another and so on. They tried to evade the wandering groups of undead after a few encounters, using Mara as a scout. But they still had to deal with some, while at the same time conserving spells their strength for the real menace: Bassilus. The fighting was made more difficult also due to the fact that Safana didn't participate in them.
She merely explained her non-involvement due to being a "non-warrior" and praising the party's heroics.
The constant pressure was starting to wear the companions down, and they were running low on their healing magic. Trying to appear cheerful, Aidan gave his last healing potion to Khalid, who had been wounded in their latest, recently ended skirmish with six skeletons wearing rusting scythes and other farming tools as weaponry.
Suddenly he became aware of someone watching him. Whirling around, he saw a dirty, raggedly little boy observing them from the thorny bushes.
"Sssh! I'm spyin' on Bassillus an' his spooks. They're funny." The child raised a finger to his lips and giggled.
"This is no place for a child! Return home to Beregost at once and run every step of the way!" Aidan responded, thinking what awful fate would befall the child if one of the undead found him.
"I ain't got no home to go to there, not since Mom an' Johnny disappeared. I been looking for them but all I can ever find is these spooks." The boy answered him.
"One of them's wearing Johnny's knickers, though, but I don't want to think of where it got 'em... Be careful you don't scare Bassillus, okay?" and with that, he ran off from his hiding place into the rain before Aidan could further cajole him.
"Aidan!"
His heart heavy, the young wizard turned to Jaheira's call just in time to see an ancient stone circle briefly lit in the flash of lightning, containing multiple silent forms.
They had found the madman's hide out.
*-*-*
Having hurriedly created a plan to kill the evil cleric, the companions stealthily crept closer to the mad cleric's hideout. Aidan saw that ten's of skeletons and zombies were silently gathered around a man and a single zombie.
The man was certainly Bassilus.
As they drew closer, tensing to launch their surprise attack and take out as many of the undead as possible before they could react, the companions could see that the evil priest was holding a conversation with the zombie.
"Heh Hurh Heh!" Bassilus cackled, actually clapping his hands.
"Oh brother Thurm, why not grace our ears with a ripping tale of the old days! Always a delight!" he continued his demented repartee.
The zombie, being a mindless drone merely moaned in answer.
"O don't hesitate on my account! Some of the others may not have heard them." Bassilus pleaded, making a sweeping gesture towards the gathered crowd of undead.
A hissing sound from it's rotten lungs was the only reply he got from the zombie.
Looking sad and confused for a moment, the madman scratched his head.
"Hold your peace then, though I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you would sooner die than be quiet. You...would sooner...um... I'll wait 'til you feel like telling them yourself, I don't remember the old days so well." He continued his blabbing.
The companions were now at a distance where the dead should already have attacked. Perhaps the evil priest hadn't yet given these particular monstrosities instructions, Aidan wondered.
Motioning Kivan and Imoen to train their bows at Bassilus, he decided to satisfy his curiosity.
"You there, what is the meaning of this..." he yelled out.
Sneering in sudden anger, the mad clerics head snapped up from his funk.
"Who dares interrupt while I speak with my family." Bassilus screamed back in rage.
"I'll have your heads if you're here to harm the...no!" he started to continue, then peered at Aidan in amazement.
"It can't be! Is that you Father? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed a bit in all these years!"
Glancing hurriedly at his companions, Aidan made a small gesture towards Bassilus, who was looking at him mouth agape.
"Uhh... yes, son, it certainly has been a long time. How are you doing... my boy?" he replied to the evil cleric, buying for time as Jaheira and Khalid edged closer, weapons drawn.
"About as well as can be expected I guess. It has been difficult but I've got most of the family back together. Some did not seem to recognize me at first, but I helped them recall." The madman replied eagerly, making a sweeping gesture at his "family".
Aidan tried to hide the disgust he felt from his voice, and continued:
"No matter. I've not seen you since... um... Zhentil Keep. Thank the gods we all got out safely." He forced a smile to his face.
Khalid and Jaheira were getting close to the maniac.
"Yes, though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of us that survived. I thought I was the only one who... the only one." He stammered, suddenly sneering in angered realization.
"You lie. YOU LIE! You cannot be my father because he died when I left the... when I..." growing befuddled again, Bassilus scratched his head, glancing around in confusion.
"When you ran from your home leaving them to die?" Aidan answered in an angry voice, heving decided to launch the attack before the mad priest had the chance give orders to his undead slaves.
"You are a coward and a murderer, and today you face judgment!" he finished, turning around to wave at Kivan and Imoen, who immediatly fired their arrows at Bassilus.
Grunting in anger as the shafts penetrated his chain mail covered chest, the evil priest grabbed his golden war hammer and pointed accusingly at Aidan.
"No! They lived, all of them! I saved them and they live! I... I ran. Dead... all dead. It isn't true! It cannot be... You lie! You will die for slighting my memory!" he screamed, suddenly becoming aware of the charging Khalid and Jaheira.
Screaming in rage, oblivious of two more arrows embedding themselves in his chest, the evil cleric charged Khalid, hacking with his weapon.
While catching Khalid with surprise at his sudden energy, the half-elf managed to block Bassilus' wild swings. Aidan launced two "Magic Missiles" at him while Jaheira hit him in the neck with her staff. Even that wasn't enough to drop him. It took the by now recovered Khalid striking his right hand clean off to fall the evil, mad priest.
Bleeding profusely, he still tried to claw his way towards Khalid until Jaheira administered the killing blow.
Bassilus was dead.
*-*-*
"Congratulations!" Jaheira turned around and saw Safana, who had watched the short and bloody battle from the safety of the bushes.
The undead gathering had been put down easily, since the "unprogrammed" skeletons and zombies offered no resistance.
Scowling at the young redhead, Jaheira glanced at the corpse filled shrine.
Bassilus had apparently played dress-up with his "family", as some of the zombied were clad in a curious mixture of Cyricist and Zhentarim garb and farm clothes. Imoen was already hard at work, prying the more valuable jewelry and possible magic items for Aidan to identify.
Their "guide" hadn't lied, and now it was their turn to aid her. Find this Black Alaric's treasure, surely guarded by traps and other dangers and loot it.
Sighing in disgust, the druid knew that at least Imoen, possibly Aidan too would love the idea of ransacking a pirate hoard. Bending over the mad priest's corpse, the druidess yanked his holy symbol loose. It was what Governor Kelddath had requested.
She saw that Safana was again chatting with Aidan.
Khalid came over to his wife and smiled after seeing the two young humans.
"W-well, one less Cyricist. It will t-take some time buh-before the countryside is s-safe again, b-but at least there'll be no m-more created." He stammered, looking quite pleased.
Jaheira nodded, having to acknowledge her husband being right.
*-*-*
In addition to the magical weapon the evil cleric had possessed, the party found a nice amount of jewelry and gold coins from the site. Safana had declined from getting a share, only asking that she'd be given the sixth of the loot from Black Alaric's treasure, once they had found it.
After having cleared out the shrine, the companions gathered the corpses of the former undead and Bassilus himself and made a huge pyre. The rain had ceased and aided by a "Flaming Hands" spell from Aidan, the fire was soon burning brightly.
Determined to rest once sufficiently far from the still dangerous hill country, the companions headed for the coast.
Smiling slyly, Safana led the way.
Everything was proceeding the way she had planned. The companions were indeed formidable, but not too strong. She had toned down her flirting once she had realized that Aidan wasn't the type she could easily wrap around her finger. Instead, she had resorted to being kind, considerate and giving out lavish praise.
The wizard was a young man, foppish but shy. She had already managed to find out quite a lot about him, his companions and especially certain malicious forces they were enemies of. She knew what the companions could do now.
Her smile only widened.
They would never catch her.