Chapter Thirty One: Remnants
Murann, 1 Tarsakh, 1370 DR
As the smoke from the burning ships of Nelanther rose to obscure and dirty the morning sun, Imoen and Apheyr walked together towards the palace of the governor, both weary yet satisfied. The harbour was free from the fleet… the city could now be considered ready for the siege that would eventually plague it.
Yet as they walked up the hill towards the palace, they heard shouts from commanders of the garrison, proclaiming in dark tones that the army of Amn had returned to Murann… defeated. Imoen exchanged a look with Apheyr, and paled. Wasting no time, Imoen incanted a teleportation spell, and appeared, a soft glimmer of blue light around her form and Apheyr's in front of the gates…
And her heart fell.
It was a bedraggled force of fewer than five thousand men, all riding on horses, but most of those horses lame and weary. Armour was hanging from them in strips, mud and blood clung to them like a second skin, banners were torn, swords were broken… and their eyes… their eyes were dead, like men who had seen the horrors of hell and had lost their souls because of it…
Leading them was not Nalia, but Cernick, the loyal captain of the keep, who had been elevated to the leadership of this force… but where was Nalia? Where was her friend? With no words offered, Apheyr put his arm around her, and pulled her close.
"Apheyr is here for you, archmage Imoen, no matter what the news."
Imoen nodded, and strode towards the slow-moving army. Cernick met her gaze, and abruptly tears appeared in his eyes. She shook her head… no… she wouldn't believe it… she couldn't believe it…
"Cernick… where is Nalia?"
The captain bowed his head, unable to look at her. "Dead, milady… she fell before the might of the empire, as she tried to shatter a way through the ranks of the enemy to save us… she succeeded, but lost her life… she will be remembered as a hero of Amn."
Apheyr frowned. "Apheyr believes that perhaps you could resurrect her? Is that not common occurrence with you Primes?"
Cernick sighed, and did not look at Imoen. "They… they cut off her head, and thrust it on a pike, to proclaim to our soldiers that there is no hope, that there is no chance of victory against Sythillis and his dark lover… that… that we are doomed."
Imoen felt cold… unable to speak, she allowed Apheyr to murmur a few words, transporting them into their private chambers in the palace… hugging herself, Imoen felt tears streaming down her cheek now she was away from the public eye.
"Apheyr… that is three of my friends now, three of the women I considered closest to me… me and Nalia were almost like sisters, and now it has all be torn from me, torn so cruelly and without concern… I hate this damned city!"
And as she shrieked, with a mixture of pure fury and absolute grief, a lance of fire sprayed from her fingers, setting fire to a tapestry. Apheyr looked at it once, walked over to it, and breathed out… his breath unleashed the iciness of the winter wind, and put out the fire.
Imoen saw this, and fell into a seat, looking at him, but not really seeing him.
"Dead…"
*
"Dead, because you and those like you were too cowardly, too blind to see! And now, the Sythillisian Empire will advance, and place this city under siege! And you are not prepared, because you were too concerned about profits to prepare!"
Governor Temlinski bowed his head… for the first time seeming afraid. "We have not got long then, my lady… we must… we must evacuate the city. Send those too old, young, or weak to defend themselves north, to Athkatla… I will… I will send emissaries with them, to crave aid from the Council… I… I am so sorry for your loss, my lady Imoen."
And it was that, more than anything else, that drove the anger from Imoen. For the first time she appreciated that perhaps Temlinski failed to acknowledge the arrival of the ogre threat because he knew that to do so would end the peace that he had created her, that if he acted first then the guilds would react badly, perhaps even assassinating him… for in Amn, the guilds and merchants held the true power.
"Governor Temlinski… we still have a chance. We can hold this city for a long time… evacuate the city, and place the men on full alert. Send ships to the nearer cities as well, asking them for aid… though I doubt they will send it until the Council does… and do not lose heart, sir… Nalia may have fallen, but I still remain, and I am just as powerful as she is… those scum will pay for what they did… for what they have done, I will make them suffer… I will make their shrieks reach down into the Abyss, so that even the demons may shudder, knowing that the last mortal Child of Bhaal has unleashed her wrath."
Temlinski paled. "Lady…"
But that was all Imoen said. The burden had been taken from Nalia, and now it rested on Imoen's shoulders… once again, it was time for a Bhaalspawn to save the nation of Amn, to bring deliverance where all anyone saw was war and slaughter.
*
The citizens loaded onto the ships in their hundreds, panicked and fear-stricken. They took with them no possessions, only food and water… though there had been few who had protested, desperate as people were to escape the menace of invasion… Imoen watched from the window of the palace, as the sea of citizenry fled onto the small, ever-so fragile ships that represented their only escape from the city… from the jewel of the south…
Even now, scout patrols were reporting that the ogre magi-led hordes were moving west towards Murann, having burned and sacked Imnescar, and set up secure garrisons south of Trademeet… Imoen was grateful that they had not yet moved against that small town… if they did so, then their friends there were at risk, and Imoen did not want to see more of her friends die… not before she herself did, anyway…
Amongst the warriors heading towards the walls, walked the hundred or so Companions, mages, druids, priests and other skilled users of magic, and a few famous fighters, sent to disperse themselves near the front line, to offer their vaunted powers to strengthen individual units of soldiers…
It had been Imoen's plan, to have the army split up into small units, almost like adventuring parties. They would learn how the others acted, co-ordinate themselves in defeating the enemy, and loyalties would be formed that would push them further in life-threatening circumstances. And with these small parties would be a Companion, whose powers were considerable indeed.
"My lady, you requested my presence?"
Imoen turned, and saw Jaheira standing a few feet behind her. She raised her eyebrow, and said, "Jaheira… please, do not call me that. You are the one who has taught me so much… you… and Khalid…"
The woman did not bat an eyelid, not even to say thank you. Jaheira hated flattery, and she saw this as flattery. "What is it you want, Imoen? You have a specific quest, or you would not have called me here… what is it?"
The youthful archmage gave a hesitant smile, but not even Imoen's cheer could prevail when so many had died, when there was still so much more to do. "I want you to travel to Suldanessllar… it is only a few miles southeast… get there quickly, and ask Ellesime for aid, tell her that Amn requires her aid… you know how to deal with elves, Jaheira."
"Indeed… very well, Imoen… I will do this…"
And she turned, and strode out of the room, her eyes glinting with determination.
Imoen sighed. There were very few allies left… soon, all that would remain would be the battle… and she doubted anyone of them would survive without help… without help on a divine level… it would take that, she sighed, to get the Council to act.
*
Into the night, the ships left Murann, the globes of light on each of them seeming like tiny faeries floating away into a vast black Abyss, to be swallowed up by infinity… to be forgotten by reality… Imoen still watched from her window, her heart pounding, tears falling from her eyes, a sense of despair and defeat rising within her…
In her mind, she remembered Candlekeep, she remembered Baldur's Gate, the warm embraces with Kathryn, the friendship between Dynaheir, Minsc, Jaheira and Khalid… the way Imoen could sit and look into the campfire, and smile and joke before they went to sleep… back when they had been innocent…
Then there had been Nalia, Viconia, Anomen and Keldorn… with Kathryn, they had travelled, for a time trying to rescue Imoen from Irenicus, and then trying to defeat him… there had still be time, even then however, for laughter. And then, for the briefest of moments, Imoen had thought she would have peace.
Wishful thinking.
For an archmage of her power, there would never be peace… there would only be the endless clarion calls of war, bidding her to murder and kill, merely to survive. And with that thought, she finally broke down, weeping and shrieking and rocking, wishing that she could be back at Candlekeep with Gorion and his musty tomes… wishing that she could be anywhere but here…
But then Apheyr knelt beside her, took her in his arms, and kissed her… his cold, icy breath washed out all thoughts of sadness, and what rose in its place was love… he was here for her… he would always be… he would help her through Hell itself.
*
And as Imoen and Apheyr kissed, and gave themselves to each other before the breaking of the storm, the hordes of the ogre magi trampled across the grass, a many-footed beast of war, iron-shod and merciless, and ahead of them rode a lone figure… a fugitive who rode towards the gleaming city, her tears echoing Imoen's…
All that remained for everyone was duty.