And now we hear from Anomen and Imoen… hurrah! Please review. I love getting them! ~G
Chapter Thirty: Murann
Governor's Palace in Murann, 1 Tarsakh, 1370 DR
The council chamber was opulent, to say the least. Imoen- by now, far grown up from Candlekeep with its austere decorations and dour monks- was used to the grandeur of the ruling class. The palace of Gromnir, in Saradush, had been richly decorated… Athkatla's various estates were magnificent… Waterdeep's palaces were beautiful… yet despite this, Imoen found that she missed the decorations of Candlekeep, the simplicity of ordered chaos, if there was such a thing…
The way that the books seemed to be all over the place, yet the way that the monks knew where each book was. The way the bells rang regularly at a set time yet the way they rang sometimes in one tune, and sometimes in another. There was none of that, here… everything was silk, and gold, and jewels…
Apheyr had said something to her, last month, about this place being a thin veneer over a cesspool of corruption. Sometimes, the insight of the air genasi surprised her. More often, it made her smile, as inside her, a warm feeling sprang.
Three months ago, it had annoyed her. Imoen, in love?
But now, she had grown comfortably into it… not surprisingly, when it was apparent she had met her match in Apheyr. Imoen's skills in various departments were fabled… in Candlekeep, she had a few novices wrapped around her little finger, and often learned new things from Calimshite youths passing through the monastery.
Kathryn had been similar to Imoen, acting flirtatiously, and leading boys on… but the difference between the two sisters had been that Imoen acted on it… and so Imoen had grown up viewing men as easy to manipulate. She loved them, but never had she found herself in love…
Apheyr…
Perhaps it was because he was so much more than a man… the air genasi held himself with such grace… his intelligence was cutting, his wit sharp… and the way he moved… he was handsome to the point of being beautiful, he was kind and…
Imoen sighed, and then she had to catch herself.
Sighing? Imoen of Candlekeep, daughter of Bhaal, sighing over a man?!
Forcing herself away from thoughts of her lover, she returned to the present, and the preparations for a siege against the jewel of the south… Murann. In the large room, decorated with red silk, gold tables and precious gems winking from nearly everywhere, sat Fadarn Temlinski, the Governor of Murann, with the leaders of local guilds, the city watch, and the naval commander. At present, the captain of the militia was reporting to the governor, explaining about scouting patrols… scouting patrols that wouldn't have existed had Imoen not come here.
Three months ago, she had found a city woefully unprepared to defend itself against a small force of kobolds, let alone a horde of vicious enemies led by powerful ogre magi. But gradually, Imoen and the Companions, who numbered about one hundred men and women, had exerted pressure, and the governor had ordered the fighting men to begin training.
And the change had been incredible.
The fat, overpaid guards of Murann, who were more designed for ceremonial parades than a lengthily campaign, had transformed into lean, skilled legionnaires of Amn, ready to stand, fight and die for their country… or at least, stand and fight for a while. Imoen was too much of a cynic to believe that they had changed so completely overnight.
Murann's walls had been improved. Hoardings would allow simple citizens, with no training, to participate in the defence, by pouring burning oil onto attackers through small holes. Ballistae had been built, as had catapults, and the machines were set on the inner walls, as well as the outer walls.
The dock wall had been reinforced, and the gates strengthened. Horses had been brought from the plains and fields, and kept in the inner city, in massive stables. Warehouses underground were packed with grain, fruit, meat, and all had been protected with anti-decay spells cast by Imoen. Water was made immune to poison, magical warding had been placed on both walls… a general muster had been proclaimed, and the city militia now numbered ten thousand men. Ten thousand civilians with armour and ten thousand trained legionnaires. Hopefully they would be enough to protect the city long enough for the Council to send aid…
But the council could never send aid if the sea was not in their control, and at this point, it wasn't. Black Alaric, the pirate king of the Sword Coast, was patrolling the sea around the city with his fleet of twenty ships, ready to pick off ships leaving the harbour. At the moment, it was not too important, but if the ogre empire attacked, then a strike by the pirates against the docks could prove lethal to Murann.
So, instead of playing it safe, and going along with listening to the scout report, Imoen stood, and asked a simple, direct question: "Governor, when are you going to send your fleet against the pirates? They are a threat to the defence of this city."
The governor sighed. It seemed to Imoen at least, that every day was a constant battle with this man, who refused to see any danger to his city, refused to acknowledge anything that would devastate profits, and detract from his palace. Imoen refused to acknowledge that they could survive with the city as it was, and that was the source of their conflict.
"Lady Imoen," he began, he arms raised placatingly. "You must understand… the ships are there to evacuate civilians from the city, in the event that the army of Lady Nalia is defeated… if we send the fleet against the pirates, then… I do not know how the innocents would escape."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that bollocks, governor. You have eighty ships in your harbour. Outfit them properly for war, and send them against the pirates. Then you can have a constant supply of food, and this city will never fall…"
Temlinski's eyes bulged. "Eighty ships? You are mistaken. The city has only twenty ships… the other sixty belong to the guilds, and I have promised them that their profits will not be hampered by this small skirmish…"
Imoen's impatience snapped. "Small skirmish? Are you kidding? Nalia has been fighting for three months, with the finest men from Eshpurta! If the elite of Amn's armies cannot wrap this conflict up in three months, then it is a lot more than a simple skirmish. We are in a war, Fedarn! A war that will completely destroy Murann, if you do not act quickly or decisively enough! To the ninth hell with the guilds and their profits. They have to make sacrifices, or they will all be strung up on the burning ruins of this city while orcs feast on their food, and bedeck themselves with their jewels!"
Sighing, the governor said, "I cannot use their ships. To do so would be a complete violation of everything I have promised… a complete violation… my lady, sit down, and stop making such noise… I admire what you have done for the city, but as of yet, I have seen nothing that warrants you to question my authority."
Imoen said, "I order you to send the fleet against the pirates."
Temlinski laughed. "I am governor of Murann. What authority do you have that supersedes mine?"
She resisted the urge to growl. "Nalia has named me her second in command. The Council has given her the authority to command the south against the ogre empire… as her second in command, and her representative here, I have the authority to command you to-"
Imoen gasped for a moment, and doubled over, clutching her head. Stumbling, she fell to the floor… in her mind, the rage and sadness of Kathryn was echoed again and again, and she struggled to breath… what had happened to make her feel this way? Temlinski watched her, with his eyebrow raised, and Imoen forced herself to stand, despite the screams of the goddess that reverberated within her mind…
"You were saying, my lady?"
Imoen frowned, her thoughts elsewhere. "Yes… because of the Lady Nalia appointing me as her representative here, I have the authority, and I command you to use the ships in your harbour against the pirate fleet."
Temlinski shook his head. "No. I am sorry, but I cannot accept that. I see no threat to my security, or the security of this city, and the Council's dictate states quite surely, that if there is no immediate threat any longer, Nalia's powers are revoked immediately. I see no threat while Nalia is out, fighting against the so-called hordes…"
She shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. "Are you serious? You idiot! You complete bastard! You blind fool! There is an army out there, three times the size of anything Amn could muster, led by cunning, powerful ogre magi, who are just waiting to feast upon the women of this city! You have the opportunity to stop their ally, and you are refusing to do it! When you die in pain and horror, Fedarn, I will offer a prayer that you go to hell for what you are doing here."
And with that, she stormed out.
*
"Apheyr senses you are annoyed, love of his heart."
Imoen sighed. "Yes, I am. By the nine bloody hells, that man is stupid. Is it a requirement of the ruling class in this damned country, to ignore everything that is placed in front of you until it is too late to do anything to stop it?"
"He does not understand what he is doing, Apheyr believes. Governor Temlinski is misguided… but, Imoen, Apheyr has just had a plan… the fleet is forbidden to you, but what if you use your magic to defeat the pirates… Apheyr would help you… the two of us could crush those pirates like worms of Sigil…"
Imoen sighed. "I suppose we'll have to." She looked into his eyes, kissed him once, softly, on the lips, and then said, "Gods, I hate this city."
*
Anomen shivered.
His old love, Kathryn, was screaming in the depths of his being, and within her screams was a sense of loss so great, that tears formed in his eyes. It must be lonely, to be in the cosmos, unable to confide in anyone but dead worshippers… a prickling sensation caused Anomen to momentarily lose his balance… but he continued on.
Whatever had happened, it did not matter. He had to move. If Kathryn was shrieking in pain about something, then it meant that the south, and Nalia and Imoen, were in great danger… which meant that today, he had to get the Council to agree to send aid to her.
Keldorn was watching him, his gaze weary. "Did you feel it to, Anomen?"
"Yes, my friend… what do you think it was?"
The old paladin sighed. "I don't know… but to make a goddess feel pain and sadness like that… it must be something terrible, and it can't be good for us… we must make this argument with the Council are most potent, Anomen… or Nalia could end up dead."
Anomen nodded. "I know. Keldorn, you tell the men to make ready to ride. Say we are leaving Athkatla, whether the Council allow it, or not… tell them to move quickly, and assemble in the Gate District… meet me at my estates when you are done… I will tell you what the Council has decided..."
Keldorn smiled. "Good luck, my friend."
An hour later, Anomen stood in front of the Council, who had abandoned the curtain, and now wore silver face masks. The Prelate of the Order was struck by an uncanny resemblance to the Lord of Death, Kelemvor…
What was his obsession with death?
He supposed it was the feeling that with every moment they wasted, more men died in the south, on bloodied battlefields, fighting against the warriors of evil causes… alone, and abandoned by their rulers.
One Council member, a man, spoke, "Prelate Delryn… welcome to our presence… yet again… I suppose you have come to request we send more aid to the incompetent de'Arnise? Believe me, our minds have not changed. She will not receive any more aid."
There was a vindictive note in his voice when he said that.
"No, she will not… but we cannot be concerned with the south any longer. Anomen, there is an uprising in Amnwater… a local lord has allied himself with Cyricists from the Gate, and has cut off trade passing to us. We believe he has a force of twenty thousand infantry and hobgoblins… to dispose of this threat, we are sending your knights, and ten thousand pikemen… return here once you have taken care of this threat… on no condition, are you to go south to de'Arnise, do you understand?"
Anomen bowed, stiff. "Yes."
*
A few hours later, Anomen led the ten thousand pikemen to the ships in the harbour. Keldorn stood beside him, and said, "You will have to get out of Athkatla quickly, Anomen… the Council will not accept this rebellion…"
Anomen shrugged. "Saving the south is rebellion? No, Keldorn… they will not risk touching me during a war. It could spark a rebellion. The name Delryn, and the Order, has too much influence here… now, Keldorn, sail south swiftly… do not dock at Murann, according to the latest missive from Imoen, Black Alaric has a fleet of pirates stationed there… dock on a beach about thirty miles north, and move south to reinforce the city… find out how things lie, and then you must decide what to do yourself."
Keldorn nodded. "Yes, Prelate."
Anomen breathed out. It felt good to disobey the Council.
*
At sunset, Anomen led ten thousand knights of the Order east to Amnwater… Keldorn sailed with the pikemen, who believed that the scroll he held was a set of orders from the Council, south. And Imoen and Apheyr, against the wishes of the governor, attacked the pirates of the Nelanther Isles, unleashing the power of fire against the ships… and at night, as the three Companions lay down, they sensed a great release of power in the skies above them, and, for a moment, the stars flickered strangely…
And in the darkness, the surviving legions of Amn fled towards the safe haven of Murann, and the ogre magi Sythillis, and his wife Cyrvrisnea, smiled as their army burned what was left of Imnescar to the ground, bellowing prayers to the dark gods as they did so.
That night, the screams reached to the heavens.