Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein.
Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.
– Blackcross & Taylor
Secrets
Imoen shivered slightly as she hurried down the corridor, her arms full of books. It was early Mirtul, but in the dark stone halls of the library it may as well have been Alturiak for all the good it did. The only time the sun seemed to penetrate was around midsummer, turning the keep into a great stone oven and making the sages even tetchier that usual, if that was possible.
She rounded a corner a little too quickly and the top two books slid from her arms and toppled to the floor. Imoen cursed impatiently under her breath, bending down to retrieve them. It was bad enough that she had to do chores for Puffguts and Steen, without Whelan collaring her outside the temple and sending her off on his errands. Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and glanced back to see a messenger moving along the corridor in even more of a rush than she was. He looked tired and road-worn, as though he'd been travelling for days, and paid no heed to the scruffy young girl gathering her books as he passed. Imoen was tempted to shout something after him but stopped herself just in time.
'Surely' she considered slyly, 'it would be far more productive to follow him…'
It would allow her to practise some of the new skills she'd been working on, plus she might find out some gossip to impress Fritha with later. Imoen grinned and, stacking her books neatly next to the wall, set off.
It became clear that the messenger was heading for the residential part of the keep and so following him was not as taxing as she'd hoped. The trip was well worth it though, once she discovered exactly who he was looking for. He finally halted outside an office on the fourth floor hallway and Imoen, who had just rounded the corner, slipped back behind it, her eyes wide.
It was Gorion's.
She heard the old sage open the door and after a quiet exchange, the messenger came back round the corner, ignoring her once again and disappeared in to the stairwell. Imoen waited a moment before creeping round and moving silently towards Gorion's door. She had half a mind to knock and tell him Whelan needed him but it was suddenly unnecessary as, at that moment, the door flew open and Gorion stalked out. Instantly, she flattened herself against the wall, half concealed by the shadow of one of the large cabinets that lined the corridor. If he'd looked, he couldn't have missed her, but Gorion seemed preoccupied and marched past her without a second glance. Imoen waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded and slipped silently into his office.
A letter lay half open on his desk and Imoen, grabbed it, her eyes flying over the words.
"What has long been feared will soon come to pass… We have done what we can for those in thy care… The other side will move very soon… I urge you to leave Candlekeep…"
Then she heard it.
'I feel thankful that I found you so soon, I was sure you would be down in the temple at this time of day.'
'Normally I would have been, but I sent that Imoen girl on an errand for me an age ago and she has still not returned. I first suspected she was with Fritha, but no, so I came to find her myself.'
Gorion and Whelan. There was no mistaking it, and of all the people it could have been!
Imoen glanced about for escape routes and her eyes were instantly drawn to the two large windows. Gorion's office was one of the few places where the windows actually opened and, if Fritha's accounts were accurate, there was a convenient drainpipe just below them.
In a choice between the risk of bodily harm and certain discovery by those two, Imoen knew what she'd do. She rushed to a window, quietly pushed it open and clambered on to the sill. Dropping lightly on to the drainpipe, she inched her way along it to the vestibule roof.
Imoen grinned as she heard Gorion's familiar voice above her.
'I am sure I closed this window.'
xxx
A moment or so later and Imoen was in the grounds and heading towards the barracks. Although the letter had been vague, she couldn't suppress the unease that seemed to have crept in to her stomach since she read it. Something was wrong and she had a feeling Fritha would be leaving any day now. She had to talk to her, even if she didn't tell her about the letter, just to see her would be enough.
Imoen spotted her immediately. A fair-skinned, slight girl who stood at least half a foot shorter than the surrounding guards. If this wasn't enough to make her stand out, her hair looked even wilder than usual today. A mad aura of frizzy curls that hung to her waist and Imoen suspected she'd fallen asleep with it wet again. The guards had all just been put in to pairs and had begun sparring as Imoen drew closer. She recognised Fritha's partner as Arden, one of the arrogant younger guards who had been hired last Flamerule. The girl knew she should wait until they finished, but the sight of her friend made Imoen's spirits lift slightly and before she could contain herself she'd shouted 'Oi, Fritha.'
Fritha, naturally, glanced around and in being distracted her opponent saw his advantage. Or so he thought.
CRACK
Fritha parried the blow with the dagger in her off-hand without even seeing it whilst bringing her wooden sword up in a panicked move and whacking him round the head.
'Sorry!' she cried, wincing as the man crumpled, clutching his head and swearing vehemently
Suddenly they were surrounded by people and the lack of fuss they seemed to be making showed Imoen that this situation was not an entirely unfamiliar one. Imoen heard Fritha's faint apologies and suppressed a grin as the guard master turned to scowl at her. With Fritha's partner being led back to the barracks it didn't seem to take much cajoling from her friend to convince the master to let her finish early. After a few moments discussion, he threw his hands up in exasperation and stalked off after Arden.
Fritha threw her a grin before putting her training sword back in the rack and jogging over to meet her.
xxx
The weather was not really suitable for the rooftops that day. It had been warm on the grounds, but above the shelter of the walls a stiff breeze was blowing. Still, she had insisted. There was something traditional about it; something that was just her and Fritha's, making it even more important considering the circumstances. Imoen shook herself, forcing away her unease and returning her attention to Fritha who was leaning forward, straining to see the barracks.
'Stop it, will you,' said Imoen, wincing. She was all right once she was sat on the roof but she didn't have Fritha's head for heights; the girl seemed fearless.
'I want to see if he's back yet, I did hit him pretty hard,' she explained, squinting as the sun burst forth from behind a cloud.
'Oh, who cares? He's a git. He tried to hit you when your back was turned,' -and nearly caught me in the barracks the other day, she added silently.
'I'm sure he didn't mean to…' said Fritha slowly, but she did finally sit back level with Imoen. 'So, what did you bring me up here for?'
Imoen hesitated a moment, wondering whether she should mention the letter. She shrugged.
'Just to talk, I suppose. It's been ages since you had any free time.'
'Tell me about it,' she muttered darkly.
Imoen nodded sympathetically. It was only just over a year ago that she'd been sat in the archives, telling Fritha not to worry about her workload. At the time she'd been sure that Gorion was just exaggerating in order to scare her, but, as it turned out, he'd been deadly serious and, since then, the only times she ever saw her friend were brief glimpses of her in the libraries, or snatched conversations at mealtimes. It was almost as if Gorion was trying to prepare her for something. Imoen felt a familiar apprehension fill her again and she cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. It was unlike Gorion to push anyone so; Fritha must be in real danger.
'Well,' the girl continued with a sigh, 'thanks to you, I seem to have some spare time now. Is there anything you want to talk about? You seem a bit distracted.'
'Nah, it's just nice to spend time together,' Imoen smiled. Fritha smiled too and they chattered for a while about mundane things, Imoen talking of her times with Steen and Fritha telling her about Archmage Jesseth, who, according to her, was the "meanest, most cantankerous, shrivelled old lizard ever to grace the Keep".
But the talk did not last long. Imoen was not so good an actress as to prevent her best friend from realising something was wrong and Fritha, for her part, seemed slightly hurt that she was keeping something from her. Imoen watched as her friend sat, silently staring out to sea, and was struck by how pretty she had grown in the last year or so. Fritha had always been fair with her retroussé nose and easy smile, but now her features had matured into something far more striking.
The pale skin and wild hair was still the same, but her eyes seemed to have darkened over the years, to a brown that was almost black in its density. Imoen suspected that if she didn't know Fritha like she did, she would find those dark almond eyes rather unnerving. Her face too, had finally lost some of the roundness of its youth. Imoen watched as the breeze threw back her hair, revealing the smooth lines of her jaw and cheek sweeping up into slightly pointed ears. But this image of regal beauty was soon shattered when Fritha turned back to her with a familiar toothy grin.
'Hey, I just thought. The other day, Phlydia told me that the kittens are finally up and about. Want to go and see?'
Imoen smiled, feeling suddenly warm in spite of the breeze.
'Sure.'
xxx
Gorion stared about his office, warm and homely in the firelight. Everything was moving so quickly; he wondered whether he'd be making things worse by trying to outmanoeuvre them. Maybe that was their plan, to force his hand, push him to make hasty decisions, kill her that way?
It was possible this whole thing would just blow over; the true prophecy was not predicted to begin until years from now. Gorion sighed, looking over the letter for what felt like the hundredth time.
"The timing of these things is difficult to predict"
An understatement that made him feel angry at its vagueness. It wasn't just the prophecy; her life was at stake. Why was no one considering that? He'd been warned several times he was getting too close to the girl but it was so difficult not to, she was so-
The click of the door broke him from his thoughts and he looked up to find Fritha before his desk, smiling.
'Hello Gorion, Beth sent me up with supper, she says you missed it.'
It took a second for him to realise she was proffering a tray to him.
'What? Oh, yes, my thanks.'
Fritha just nodded, setting the tray down before him and throwing herself into a chair in front of the desk.
'Oh, I've had the best day. Imoen and I went to see Phlydia's new kittens. They are so sweet. There was this tiny ginger one that Imoen said looked like me, and Phlydia laughed her head off, you know what she's like…'
His food forgotten, Gorion watched her sat there, chattering happily about her day, a sense of anger welling up within him.
She was so young, so alive. If only he'd known of this threat sooner. And even then, was it a true threat? It could just be circumstantial, nothing to do with the prophecy. Was he to risk her life just on the off chance? But they didn't care; it was only about the prophecy for them. She was nothing.
'But then she said that once they're weaned I can have one an-'
Gorion finally felt his composure snap.
'Fritha!'
Fritha turned to him, open mouthed and glowering at this unfair assault.
'What?'
'We must leave.'
Her scowl turned to confusion.
'Leave? Leave where? …Not Candlekeep?' A sudden realisation seemed to dawn on her and she continued quickly, 'look, I swear, it was an accident today, I never meant to hit-'
'Fritha, calm yourself. This has nothing to do with your actions here.' Gorion sighed, he should really do it now, but…
'Look, I have not the time to explain it right now. Just go and pack a bag, only essentials mind, we will be travelling by foot. Be ready by noon tomorrow.'
Fritha opened her mouth, perhaps to question further or complain but after a moment she shut it again without a sound and silently walked out. She didn't need to say anything; the look of hurt on her face as she left spoke volumes for Gorion. He glanced down to the letter on his desk before viciously screwing it up and throwing it into the grate.
xxx
Fritha awoke slowly, pushing a froth of hair from her face and looking up through her window. By the position of the sun, she judged it was an hour or so before noon. She glanced to the small table beside her bed where a note had been place, her name written in Gorion's scrolling script on the front.
She read it already knowing what it would say. Pack stuff, get equipment, visit Phlydia -that was unexpected, and, of course, meet him outside the keep at midday. She threw down the letter and spent a few minutes rooting under her bed for her pack. She stared at it a moment, unwilling to deal with what it represented and instead crossed to the far corner of her room for her lute. She sat on her bed, picking a thin tune from it and trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep anywhere but that room, to be anywhere else but Candlekeep. Thoughts like this weren't helping though and eventually she lay the instrument down beside her, sighed heavily and began the sad task of packing up her things.
It was a bright clear morning outside and Fritha felt out of place with her feelings of apprehension. She left the walled gardens of the keep by the back gateway, walking past the inn and up to Phlydia's door. She went to knock but one strike and it swung open, so she settled with putting her head round and calling, 'Phlydia?'
There was no sound but the faint mewling of a kitten somewhere in the house and a rustle from a heap of parchment and books under which she was pretty sure there was a desk. Fritha glanced around the rest of the room taking in the worn chairs covered in mismatched cushions and throws, the shelves spilling over with curious jars and instruments and the pictures of far-off lands that covered the walls. Phlydia's house was so contrary to the regimented neatness that prevailed in the rest of the Keep, that Fritha wondered how she had ever managed to gain a permanent residence there and, indeed, why she had wanted too. She had loved to visit Phlydia's house when she was younger, everything about it seemed so exotic and full of mystery; she and Imoen used to fight over errands there.
'Phlyyyydia?' she shouted again, suddenly finding the past painful to think about. She heard the sound of movement above her and seconds later Phlydia was clattering down the narrow stairs, beaming.
'Ah, hello Fritha, were you waiting long? I'd dozed off.'
Fritha smiled back at her shaking her head. Phlydia was older than Beth; in fact, Fritha couldn't seem to remember her ever looking young. Her wiry grey hair was escaping from an oversized bun as she smoothed the skirts of her dark plum dress, a beaded jade green shawl thrown haphazardly over her shoulders. The woman finished and straightened, turning her gaze back to Fritha in silence.
'Gorion said you wanted to see me?' Fritha prompted, once she realised that Phlydia had no idea why she was there.
'Ah, yes, so I did. Come in, come in.'
Fritha walked in to the house, picking her way through the clutter, and following Phlydia in to the back room, a couple a cats looking up as she entered, observing her ungainly progress through the disorder almost smugly. The room turned out to be storeroom of sorts; chests were piled untidily against the walls leaving just enough room in the centre for her and Phlydia to stand.
'Now, where did I put them,' the old woman mused to herself, glancing about at the trunks.
'Ah, here we are, move Falex,' she said, finally finding the right chest and giving the sleeping cat on top of it a gentle shove. Falex opened one eye and glared insolently at them. When it confirmed that this alone would not dissuade them, the cat rose slowly, as though to prove it was not going to be rushed before leaping gracefully to the floor and stalking out, its tail held high.
Fritha watched it go, turning back to Phlydia to find the chest opened, drawing in a sharp gasp as she stared down at some of the most beautifully crafted arms she had ever seen.
'Indeed,' smiled Phlydia, pulling out a pair of light kidskin boots and dumping them into her arms, 'here, we'll have these and, ah, this will come in useful and-'
The pile in Fritha's arms was growing and suddenly something dawned on her.
'Is, is all this for me?'
'Of course, child,' Phlydia laughed, tossing a blue enamelled long sword on to the pile, 'Objects such as these do not deserve to be hidden away in chests. They must be used in journeys, on adventures. Allowed to make names for themselves.'
The old woman shook her head, her eyes suddenly misty.
'Ah, the stories I could tell you, child -but I suppose it's too late for that now,' she added with a sigh.
'Still, what next? Ah, yes, Clothes.'
'What's wrong with my clothes?' asked Fritha defensively; she had always felt she was quite well turned out.
Phlydia chucked at her vanity
'Nothing when you're here in Candlekeep, but what about when you're out there in the wilds of Faerûn?' Her eyes had misted over again and Fritha wondered exactly where she had travelled in her life before Candlekeep. 'What will you do when the weather turns and the rain beats down for days on end?'
Fritha shrugged.
'Get wet?'
'No, no, no,' Phlydia continued as though she hadn't heard her, 'you must have suitable attire. Now you've got the boots, so all we need now is… Ah, I've just the thing.'
It was but minutes later when Fritha was stood again, in amongst the clutter of the main room dressed "suitably". The trousers Phlydia had provided, though a little on the large side, were all right and the boots fitted fine. The tunic, however, swamped her. It hung from her shoulders, the neck hole much too wide for her narrow frame, to past her knees, the sleeves so long they hid her hands. And though it was a more than adequate amount of fabric Fritha felt sorely underdressed. The rest of her was all right, but due to the neckline, she felt she was showing a scandalous amount of shoulder; even one of her camisole straps could be seen!
Phlydia seemed unconcerned though.
'There, perfect,' she beamed, 'now to find that cloak.'
Phlydia bustled off as Fritha lifted her hand, staring at the good few inches of hanging fabric that showed where her fingers ended.
'Phlydia…' she began slowly
'Yes, dear,' came a voice muffled by rummaging.
'You don't think it's a bit on the big side, do you?'
Phlydia appeared in the doorway, smiling genially
'Nonsense, child, you'll grow into it.
For the rest of their time together, Fritha tried to explain that in being nearly twenty years old, she was pretty much all grown out, but Phlydia was having none of it and, with a hug and a smile, sent her on her way. Apart from being too big for her, the clothes Phlydia had provided her with were of excellent quality. Shirts and trousers of black linen as well as a couple of tunics, in various shades of blue and trimmed with patterned ribbon or embroidery. Finally, and after a great deal of rummaging, Phlydia had found her two cloaks, one of a light waxy material to keep the rain off and the other, which turned out to be her favourite of all the things she received that day, a heavy velvet cloak in dusky blue, lined with grey squirrel's fur.
Fritha's only regret was that it was spring and so couldn't put it on straight away.
But that wasn't the real dilemma facing her at the time. She didn't care what Phlydia said, she was more likely to grow another head than grow big enough to fill those tunics. The neckline didn't really bother her any more. She had mentioned her concerns to Phlydia but she had just snorted and said something about it being a good job she was leaving, if her life in Candlekeep had been so sheltered she was worrying about that! And the size of the body was kept in check once she strapped on her sword belt, the weight of the new long sword hanging awkwardly at her hip.
The sleeves, however, were a problem so once outside, she slipped round the back of one of the storehouses and set to work. Minutes later she appeared again with each of her sleeves rolled back several times and secured with various bits of ribbon and banding that she'd originally packed for her hair.
She glanced up at the sun. It was nearly noon and though the highsun signal had not yet rung, it could not be far off. Fritha started the walk back to the keep when a shout behind her made her turn. Imoen had just left the inn and was jogging over to her grinning.
'Hey, nice tunic,' she snorted once she was close enough.
'Thanks,' said Fritha with a wry smile.
Imoen grinned, giving her an appraising sort of look.
'Look at you, all dressed up and ready to go.'
'Yes, well…hang on, how did you know I was leaving?'
Imoen's face fell and Fritha caught a glimpse of her unease before the smile was back.
'What, oh, I heard Whelan talking about it to one of the other sages when I finally returned from his errands.'
'Well, okay…'
'So, d'you know where you're headed yet?' Imoen asked, quickly changing the subject.
Fritha shook her head.
'No, and Gorion's refusal to even discuss it makes me think it's somewhere I won't like. We'll camp down for the night and I'll wake in the morning to find I've been enrolled in the Flaming Fist, or something equally unappealing.'
Imoen snorted again, smiling ruefully.
'You know, I'm really going to miss you.'
'Oh, don't worry, nothing could keep me away from this place for long,' she grinned, trying to cheer herself as well as Imoen.
A gruff shout from behind started them both.
'Imoen!'
Fritha glanced back to see the figure of Steen beckoning at them, his eyes sharp behind the wizened face.
'Oh, time to go,' said Imoen, pulling her friend into a warm embrace, 'safe journey.' Fritha watched them re-enter the inn before continuing her walk to the keep.
She was only a few paces further on when a muffled smash followed by a string of curses rang out from the priests' quarters. Fritha glanced again at the sky before crossing to the hut and tentatively pushing open the door.
'Hello? Parda?'
The room was dark and close, every window shut, the curtains drawn, and she could just make out the outline of furniture towards the back. Her heart quickening, she moved slowly through the door and into the room, stopping suddenly as something crunched under foot. She crouched down to find the floor littered the broken shards of a bowl.
'You are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?'
Fritha jumped, whirling round to face the voice. A man was stood in the shadows behind the door.
'Wh-who are you and what are you doing here?' she stammered, feeling properly afraid now.
She saw the man smile, stepping forward slightly and gently pushing the door closed.
'Who I am is unimportant, but who you are is very much so.'
The man began slowly advancing as he spoke, causing her to back away, further and further from the door.
'I apologise for this dirty bit of business but it would seem your head is worth an exceptional amount to me. I kill you myself and I need not share credit with anyone.'
He smiled again and suddenly his dagger was drawn and he lunged at her. Fritha screamed, grabbing his wrist to avert the blow. He missed but struck her fiercely with his free hand, sending her to the ground, pulling him with her. They struggled for a moment but the weight of him on top of her was making it difficult to draw breath. Her arms felt like lead as she fought to keep his hands away; her strength was failing her. She felt the dagger graze her temple and panic surged within her.
In one quick movement she pulled the dagger down, stabbing it in the floor near her head and had punched out with her other hand. The man reeled and she had enough time to push him off, rolling backwards into a kneeling position. A second later, the man had freed his knife, looking up at her with a cruel smirk but it was too late. The last thing he saw was his quarry knelt before him and the flash of a blade. She sat back on her haunches panting, trying to forget the sickening thud his head had made as it hit the floor.
Fritha stumbled outside, dazed and blinking against the brightness. Had that just happened? She glanced back to the doorway, finding it open; a dark yawning hole into the hut.
'Fritha?'
She started, whirling round to find the priest, Parda, stood behind her, his lined old face creased with concern.
'Fritha, are you well? You've cut yourself there, above the brow.'
He gestured slightly and Fritha, who had only half heard him, moved her hand tentatively to her forehead.
Parda watched her, trying to make eye contact as she stared with wonder at her now bloody fingers.
'Something in your eyes tells me something is very wrong indeed, child.'
This seemed to get her attention and she pulled her gaze away from her hand to look at him. Her eyes had never seemed so dark.
'Its…its nothing, Parda. I was at Phlydia's this morning, one of the cats didn't like me petting it, is all.'
Parda was about to press her further but suddenly the library bell pealed out, signalling highsun. Fritha jerked at the sound, suddenly alert.
'Oh Gods, Gorion!' she cried, exiting at a dead run, leaving the priest to gaze after her, sadly shaking his head.
Fritha hurtled along the path to the library, dodging guards and sages alike, a sense of desperation and a need to distance herself from what had just happened fuelling her. She swerved to narrowly miss a heavily laden scholar, vaulting gracefully over the hay bales that lay in her new path and rounding the corner to the entrance arch.
She skidded slightly as she turned before racing through, the garden just a blur as she came to the steps and Gorion.
Fritha halted before him, out of breath and shaking.
'Running late were you?' he quipped, although his voice was stern.
But Fritha could not even hold his gaze for long, let alone reply and after a moment lowered her eyes in silence.
'What, no excuses?' he questioned more kindly.
Fritha opened her mouth to reply, longing to tell him about the man, the blood, everything, but the words stuck in her throat.
'…No, nothing,' she finally answered. Gorion watched her a moment longer before seeming to accept this, and carried on.
'Well, you're here now, so let us leave immediately. Now listen very carefully…'
xxx
Fritha hurried along behind Gorion, finding it hard to match the breakneck pace of the taller man. She pulled her cloak around her, breathing in the newness of it, trying to calm the uneasy tension in her stomach. First formed by the attack in the clerics' rooms, it had only been heightened by Gorion's words of warning as they'd left the Keep and now darkness had fallen in the forest she'd watched so many times and never once set foot in, she found herself almost sick with anxiety.
Suddenly, Gorion stopped, signalling her to do the same. She stood behind him silently, desperately trying to listen for danger over the noisy hissing of the trees.
'Fritha, we are in an ambush,' Gorion at last whispered, and she felt her heart quicken, 'stay back there.'
Without looking round, her gave her a shove towards a tree a couple of paces back before taking a step forward.
'I know you are there, show yourselves!'
Fritha's breath caught as the group stepped into the clearing, there had to be about half a dozen of them, but that alone was not the cause of her alarm. At their centre stood a huge warrior clad in armour the likes of which Fritha had only read about. Great sections of plate metal fit seamlessly together, decorated here and there with spikes and skulls, only to be crowned with a helm shaped like the head of some terrible beast and inside its gaping jaws Fritha could see a glinting pair of human eyes.
Eyes that were trained on her.
'You're perceptive for an old man. You know why I'm here, hand over your ward and no one will be hurt.'
Gorion snorted.
'You're a fool if you believe I would trust to your benevolence. Step aside and you and you're lackeys will be unharmed.'
The knight smiled cruelly.
'I'm sorry you feel that way, old man.'
Battle erupted.
Fritha watched, breathless as Gorion wove spell after spell, the forest alive with colours as bodies littered the ground. And then, that monstrosity of a knight was before him. Even after all she had seen of Gorion's skills she wanted to yell for him to run, to escape. Something about this man was wrong; just to look at him made her insides freeze. Gorion stood his ground though, throwing out a volley of fiercely glowing spheres. The knight remained still and Fritha wondered for a moment if it had worked before he moved so swiftly she barely saw the blade.
The result, though, was all too plain.
Gorion stood, swaying slightly, before crumpling to the ground.
Fritha felt as though the blow had hit her too. She staggered backward, her eyes fixed on his body, a strangled cry left her throat and she turned and ran.