Note: From now on, I may be using my artistic licence to create creatures in the Forgotten Realms, which will hopefully constitute more of a threat to the L40 Nalia and Imoen! ~G
Chapter Twenty Five: Death and Torture
Trademeet Grove, 14 Hammer, 1370 DR
Imoen paled- she was too late.
The grove was blackened, ash stirred in the cold breeze, trees had been chopped down, and the blood of dead and dying druids was scattered across the once beautiful place. She took a shaking step forward, exchanging a look with Apheyr, who looked as horrified as she felt.
"Apheyr is worried, Archmage Imoen. What if the orcs are still here?"
She sighed. "They will have gone. They have done what they came to do- they have removed on of the more powerful allies Nalia could have gained… somebody who has a keen appreciation of politics is behind this. How else could they have known to attack Jaheira?"
The blue-skinned mage raised an eyebrow. "The Companion of Kathryn is known to evil, just as she is known to Apheyr. Those who control the orcs do not have to understand the political schemes… they just need to understand the power, and who has it."
Nodding, she continued walking forward. The grove was strangely quiet- the orcs had gone, and there seemed to be no sound. If Nalia hadn't known any better, she would have said it had been snowing, but she knew it wasn't snow, it was ash- putrid ash from burnings trees.
A touch of wind moved past them, and Imoen wrapped her cloak tightly around herself, feeling cold to the bone, defeated and alone. Before her, the ash shifted and swirled, like the ebb and flow of a great tide- a great tide of death and destruction…
"This destruction… Apheyr feels sick."
The simple words made Imoen bow her head, eyes beginning to glisten with tears. It was only now beginning to sink in what had happened… Jaheira… dead… Jaheira, the druid who had fought with them to rescue Faldorn, and who had then stopped travelling with them to tend to nature… Jaheira, who had saved Kathryn and Imoen from the first assassin, in the Friendly Arm Inn… Jaheira… Jaheira who would once again be reunited with Khalid.
She stumbled, and fell to her knees in the ash. The magic of the grove must be fading, for now the snow and ice from deepwinter started to fall, pure white like crystals, cold and perilous like steel. The ash was dry, and it powdered in her hands. The snow was wet, and it melted as it touched her warm skin.
Jaheira… gone…
Imoen had failed.
Again.
The others had been killed as well- each time, Imoen had arrived too late to save her old companions from blade, spell or poison. The power of Kathryn's archmages, Apheyr and Imoen, was unable to save those that the goddess of song needed.
Minsc, crushed and smashed into a bloody, broken wreck, a battle cry half-formed dying on his blue, pallid lips… Imoen had never seen the attacker, but to kill the berserker, it would have had to be something very powerful.
Aerie: plummeting from the skies, her wings torn from her back by merciless harpies, swarms of the black creatures darkening the daylight, their red eyes glinting with feral ferocity.
Jan Jansen, possessed by a dark shadow from ancient times, which controlled his movements, sending him, screaming for help, over the cracked and charred battlements of Athkatla. Imoen had never found his body, but she had sensed his death.
Mazzy Fentan, driven mad by a subtle poison, and made to kill her own family, and then made to run, crazy, throughout Trademeet, hacking and slashing and calling to the dark gods. Imoen had come to her just as her wits returned, and saw the small halfling kill herself, calling out for the gods of mercy, who would aid her anguished soul…
"Archmage Imoen!"
The musical, vibrant voice of the blue archmage made Imoen start out of the memories of death and torture that washed within her mind, and she turned to see his eyes regarding her: "Apheyr can hear someone else crying. He believes that it is off to the east."
Imoen stood, and a gust of wind, much more violent than before, made her robes surge and billow madly. She murmured a single word, and then started running towards the east, whirling through the snow and wind with a speed enhanced by magic. Alongside her, Apheyr soared, ice-white robes billowing behind him like angelic wings.
They rushed into a small clearing amidst burnt and toppled trees, and Imoen saw something that made her feel liberated, and saddened, at the same time. Jaheira was alive! She was kneeling in ash, while three other druids stood alongside her- she cradled the limp, bloodied body of Cernd, and was weeping.
Imoen whispered, "Jaheira."
The druid looked up, and something flickered in her eyes. "Its all my fault, Imoen… all my fault. Cernd has been telling me for weeks to aid the Council, and Nalia, but I have been too stubborn. I have been too unflinching, and now my hesitation has cost him his life, and the life of nearly all of my druids- and the grove. It is gone. The magic, the life, the beauty… all… gone…"
Without a word, for words would not do in this instance, Imoen sank to her knees beside Jaheira, and wrapped her arms around the druid warmly. Tears once again streaked silver down Imoen's cheeks. Jaheira had lost her first husband, Khalid, and now she had lost her second, Cernd. Would there be no end to her suffering?
"Shh… its okay… its okay… I promise you, its okay…"
And they sat like that for a long time, hugging and weeping, while above them, snow fell, touching upon the frost-bitten floor, and mingling with the powdery ash, small sprinkles of glistening sprinkles amidst the evil of burned bodies, trees. It was a wasteland now, a desert. Imoen sighed.
She knew Jaheira needed time to grieve.
But time was not something they had in abundance.
*
Valygar Corthala stalked silently through the dense undergrowth of the forest in the Umar Hills. He held his katanas easily, occasionally flicking his eyes to the rippling, flickering enchantments laid upon the blade. Imoen had done them for him, Imoen, that beautiful young girl who had persuaded him that magic was not all evil, and who had sent him to the Umar Hills, to take up the lordship of the area.
The Council of Six had reluctantly agreed, and so Valygar had spent the last few months ruling over the small holding, with the villagers becoming accustomed to the lord and his cultured, gentle and aristocratic ways.
They had become accustomed to the lord often fighting to defend the village against enemies, both human and spirit. And they had become accustomed to the tiny sect of worshippers in the forest, worshippers who were praying to a dead god, a dead god of the sun- Amaunator.
Valygar himself was one of those worshippers. He remembered travelling with Kathryn for about three weeks, ridding the temple from the shades, and then, while investigating the Cult of the Eyeless, finding another temple, with an avatar of the dead god himself.
It had been proof to Corthala that gods do not die, they just fade to a shadow of their former selves- and it had been this that had sparked him to become a patron of the temple in the Umar Hills, which still had only a tiny faction, but which would, given time and peace, grow into something potent.
But, according to the dreams sent him by Kathryn, time and peace were luxuries they did not have, and for that reason the temple was now protected by the might of Kathryn, who had taken the responsibility of watching over Amaunator's flock, answering their prayers and protecting his faithful.
A hissing sound made Valygar whirl quickly, and he frowned into the shadows of the forest. A cold winter's wind stirred, and he shivered. He tightened his grip on his katanas, and took a step back-
Which probably saved his life.
What seemed like a blast of pure blue light sliced through the air, narrowly missing him. Immediately, with superb reflexes born from years of fighting, Valygar threw himself to the floor, rolling, then standing to face his attacker.
It was a woman, but a woman with strange features. Her face was like a hawks, all sharp teeth, and hooked beak. Her skin was a vivid electric blue, her fingers were like knives of gleaming silver, and when she spread her arms, leathery wings could be seen. A shriek made Valygar shudder, as if someone had dunked him in a freezing spring, and with lightning speed, the creature vaulted towards him.
Slash.
He brought his katanas up, across her throat, and she fell to the floor, steaming energy pouring from the wound, until she collapsed to the floor, and faded in a melting aura of purple-blue smoke. Valygar barely had time to react, however, as from the undergrowth; two more of the creatures sprang.
Slash, parry, slash, parry.
They fell, jerking and rasping. But then Valygar forced himself not to think as, from the shadows, more and more of the creatures attacked. Valygar's katanas rose and fell, dispatching the attackers. A pained grunt escaped him as silver, hooked claws scraped across his cheek. He shuddered as a bitter cold raced through him, and he stumbled slightly, thrusting deep into the chest of one of the creatures with his weapons.
His reflexes slightly slower, he attacked another one, then another, then another, but a second set of claws scraped him, this time penetrating deep into his chest. The coldness was even more pronounced this time, and he felt his right arm lock, gripped by solid ice.
Using his one remaining arm, he killed another of the creatures, then another- but now he was feeling lethargic, and his reactions were coming more slowly. He failed to parry another attack from the creatures, and long fingers sliced deep into his right chest.
He felt one of his lungs shrivel with ice, and he coughed and choked as he felt ice grow and expand within his chest. Writhing, he fell to the floor, and breathed out- white smoke sprayed out, condensation…
And then it went. A wave of heat washed over him, and the ice melted instantly. With eyes obscured by tears of pain, Valygar turned, and saw Imoen standing, sheathed in light, sending magic against the creatures around him, arcane words tumbling from her lips, and the ground shaking with the force of her fury.
Valygar smiled.
He was saved.