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
RevelationsJaheira appeared about an hour later, strolling over to lean casually on her staff at Fritha's side. Though the woman was a good few inches taller than her, being sat on the porch had evened things out between them, and their faces were level as Jaheira leaned in.
'Imoen said you've found Tazok's tent,' she began in a low voice, her tone contrasting with her expression, which was pulled into a friendly smile.
Fritha smiled too, making a slight gesture to the sunset as she spoke.
'That's what the previous guard said. Apparently full of his papers and such.'
'So Imoen could…'
Fritha's smile broadened, her eyes hard. 'Papers aren't the only things in there.'
The druid's eyebrows twitched slightly but the smile never wavered.
'How many?'
'At least three. The planks vibrate when they walk about,' she answered with a casual pat of the porch timbers that currently served as her seat.
'Right,' Jaheira said, straightening, 'the others are gathered round a fire in the east of the camp, I'll go and inform them of this and we shall come up with something. Are you okay to stay here?'
Fritha nodded brightly and the druid's smile flashed true for a second before she turned and wandered back into the camp.
xxx
Jaheira weaved her way through the tents and fires, her progress all but ignored by the surrounding bandits; something that served only to please her. Getting in as allies had been easy. Getting out as enemies…
This silent concern lingered in the air as she finally came upon their own fire, Imoen looking up instantly and Jaheira predicted her first question.
'Fritha is fine,' she announced, as, at her feet, her husband moved along to make room for her in the circle, 'she has taken to the role of sentry with her usual simple amiability and is currently admiring the sunset.'
Everyone smiled at this news of Fritha, so accurately presented and the druid sat down, dropping her voice to relate her findings. Jaheira leaned back slightly as she finished, glancing about at them all as they considered her words before finally the silence was broken by the man at her side.
'Is there anyway we can get in without drawing t-too much attention to ourselves?'
Jaheira shrugged, eyes following a bandit that wandered past before she answered.
'Not that I could see. The building appears to be canvas over a wooden structure. Only one door in.'
'Could we cut the canvas?' asked Imoen, surprising her with her ingenuity, 'sneak in that way somehow?'
Jaheira shook her head.
'Not easily without alerting them to our presence. And while we're struggling to get in that way, they could be leaving via the door.'
'We could split the group, couldn't we?' the girl pressed, but Khalid gently intervened.
'It is a clever idea, but I fear we would still likely draw a crowd.'
'Let them come, Minsc and Boo will be ready!' announced the ranger, a little too loudly for her liking, but Dynaheir was already there, laying a calming hand upon his arm and pausing to give him a warning look, before she continued.
'There must be some way for one, or two of our number to enter under stealth, to meet any resistance while the rest of us move inside.'
Jaheira sighed, frowning as their options were eroded on by one until the course she wanted most to avoid was the only one left.
'I don't think so. But we do have one advantage.'
'Which is?'
'The only person guarding the place just happens to be one of our own.'
xxx
Jaheira had them wait until the shadows had lengthened, the sun just a dark orange sliver above the trees, before they moved on Tazok's tent, skirting the camp in twos and threes to finally reach it. Fritha was sat just as she had left her, the only difference being the thin grey cloak now thrown about her shoulders against the dusk chill. The girl raised a hand in greeting as she and Imoen approached, her eyes only flitting to the three who came in from the other direction, slipping round the back of the adjacent provisions tent to stand in the shadows, before she pointedly ignored them, all her focus on the pair in front of her.
'Hello there, come to take a turn, have you? I can't say I'm not glad, another hour sat here would have likely done me a mischief.'
Imoen snorted at her side and Jaheira suppressed a smile with some difficulty, lowering her voice to ask, 'Any change?'
The girl shook her head.
'None. Someone brought them food and such a couple of hours ago. I announced him and they took it at the door. So what's the plan?'
Jaheira shrugged. 'We knock, they answer and in we go.'
Fritha snorted, her smile a mix of amusement and incredulity.
'That's the plan? Three hours discussion and that's what you lot came up with?' She shook her head, still smiling. 'Fair enough, now?'
Jaheira nodded, throwing a glance to Khalid who had in the meantime moved with the others to climb on to the porch, still crouched in the shadows. Fritha nodded too, standing with a sigh and walking casually to the door as Jaheira and Imoen ascended the steps to join her. She smiled, throwing Jaheira a last glance before turning back to the door and knocking lightly.
'Yes?' came a gruff voice, muffled by the wood.
'It's me again, sir. A gentleman by the name of Tranzig for you.'
The door was only opened a fraction when the girl sprang forward, slamming her shoulder into the wood with a ferocity that made the druid jump, smashing the guard in the face and in a sudden flurry of movement, they were inside, Khalid and the Rashemi flying in after them, Minsc turning to shut the door while, at her feet, the guard lay groaning, both hands clutched to his face. Fritha glanced to him, feeling a twinge of guilt as his head rolled back, unconsciousness finally claiming him, before throwing her attention ahead of them. The four remaining men, three humans and an orc, had sprung to their feet, whirling to face the group and Jaheira stepped forward.
'What the-'
'We are here for information only,' she began, her voice even and full of authority as she coldly eyed each one in turn, 'co-operate and no one shall be harmed.'
The four seemed to share a look, the shortest man stepping forward with a smile, slowly drawing his sword and behind him the others followed suit.
'I don't know who in the Hells you think you're talking to, woman, but you'll not be alive long enough to find out.'
He lunged at her, a move she anticipated with ease, dodging the blow, and catching him firmly round the back of the head, Khalid stepping up to finish him with a sword thrust through the back as he stumbled forward. The speed of the kill seemed to leave all in shock and for a split second, enemies regarded each other in silence until someone roared, "Kill them!" and battle erupted.
Minsc, Jaheira and Khalid swept forward to meet the two men, Minsc's greatsword proving equal parts help and hindrance in the confines of the tent. Dynaheir hung back, her hands just a blur as great arcs of energy exploded from them and Fritha had been about to join her when Imoen screamed and she whirled back just in time to dodge an arrow, so close the flight brushed her ear.
The orc.
Now half-crouched behind the desk, his narrow eyes followed them, another arrow already nocked, as Imoen pulled her behind a stack of crates.
'Come on, this way,' she hissed and Fritha allowed herself to be led along the wall, keeping low and hidden as they advanced on him, arrows whistling past them as they went.
'That's it', Imoen finally whispered, flattening herself against a large chest as another arrow flew past, 'we can't get any closer without him having an open shot.'
Fritha licked her lips nervously.
'When he fires, there's a window of a few seconds while he reloads. I'll go over the top, cover me with your bow. Okay, on the next one- now!'
The arrow had barely passed them when Fritha leapt over the chest, sword already drawn, to slide across the desk, bringing the blade down at his head. And the next few moments played out as though time had slowed, as, to her horror, he instantly dropped the bow and snatched up his sword from the decking, her assumption of those few crucial seconds it would take to draw it, proving her undoing. He blocked her blow with ease, standing to return it and it was all she could do to scramble off the desk as the blade swept down at her.
Now beneath him, he pinned her with a heavy foot, sword poised above her and for a second their eyes met as he raised the blade to strike. She winced, bracing herself for the blow and… nothing. She stared up at him, swaying above her to collapse sideways with an almighty crash, revealing the unsure form of Imoen, a dagger still tightly gripped in her hand.
'Imoen?'
The girl seemed to jolt, finally pulling her eyes away from the body and reaching down a hand to help her up as Khalid arrived at her shoulder.
'Are you both uninjured?'
Fritha nodded, moving to step over the body when a noise at her feet started her.
'H-Hello?'
For one awful second she glanced to the slack face of the dead orc, until the sound of movement drew her to the map of the Western Heartlands, hung floor to ceiling behind her, and she swept it aside to reveal a man bound hand and foot, a bag secured over his head.
'Hello? I know you're there,' he continued, his tone almost teasing and Fritha frowned slightly. There was something familiar about the voice and Imoen obviously agreed.
'You!' the girl shouted suddenly, realisation flashing in her eyes, 'I knew I didn't see anyone speak. It was you who shouted! We could have talked our way out of it.' Imoen glanced about the group, her eyes hard. 'I say we leave him here!'
He turned to her sharply, nervous laughter quivering behind his words.
'Come now, haven't you ever heard of "the enemy of my enemy…".'
'Yes,' agreed Jaheira dryly, 'the saying speaks of enemies though, not prisoners.'
Fritha stared down at him, knowing she could not leave him there, whoever he turned out to be.
'What's your name?'
'Endar, Endar Rai.'
She glanced round at them all, before slowly turning back to her friend.
'Imoen.'
The girl scowled but complied all the same, drawing her dagger and beginning to work at the bonds while she loosed the hood, drawing it back to reveal a man of middle age, his dark shaggy hair sticking out at odd angles, the few days growth on his face doing little to hide the bruises the stained his jaw.
'Well, if you lot aren't the sweetest sight I've set eyes on in a while,' he grinned, rubbing his wrists appreciatively as Imoen moved down to free his feet, 'I was wondering if you'd make an appearance.'
'You know us?' questioned Jaheira behind her, her voice tinged with suspicion.
'Aye, know of you, at least. Though you look different from the description I got from Tazok's ravings.' He grinned broadly again, turning back to give Fritha an amiable wink, 'Very uncomplimentary.'
'S-Sorry?'
Endar frowned at last, glancing round at them all, before his eyes return to her once more, as she helped him to stand.
'You'll be the mercs who raided the Nashkel mines?'
Fritha nodded and the grin was back before she could blink.
'Aye, I knew it… Tazok's been wanting you dead for a long while now. Shame he wasn't here; I owe him a debt of pain. Though I wonder if we're out of the woods yet, your fight can't have been quiet and these aren't your ordinary bandits.'
'Yes, we know,' interjected the druid brusquely, 'Black Talon and Chill. But the real question is still the same. Who is Tazok working for?'
Endar shrugged loosely, gesturing to the bodies as he spoke.
'Can't say for sure. Crush and Khosann, both thought he was getting orders from the Zhents, and Tazok doesn't do much to discourage that particular line of thinking. But the Black Talons and Chill are bandit groups, see. They play the trade routes, avoid the cities, and that's where they go wrong. I'm from the Gate and I can tell you dead as leather that the Zhentarim aren't behind this.'
'How d'you know?' asked Imoen with a glance to her and Fritha saw her own anticipation mirrored there. Could this be it? To finally know the architects of this pointless but bloody venture?
He grinned, his eyes suddenly hard.
'A desire for silence isn't the only reason I wear soft-soled boots. I wear 'em so I can tell whose toes I'm treading on. I didn't mess with no Zhentarim. I picked my enemies, and I messed with one group and one group only. The Iron Throne.'
A shout outside made everyone start.
'Oh dear.'
'Someone lock the door!'
'Here, in the chest,' Endar continued, pushing a large box towards Imoen, 'there're some documents that you'll want to take a look at.'
Fritha glanced back and forth from her to the door as the thief dropped to her knees, slipping her picks from her belt and began to work the lock, the shouts outside growing more urgent.
'Got them?'
'Just a second… yeah!' Imoen finally snapped, throwing open the lid and grabbing the handful of scrolls within, pushing them carelessly into her bag as Fritha whirled to face the door.
'Right, take this,' she ordered, grabbing a short sword from a nearby body and pushing it into Endar's hand, 'and stay back!'
It wasn't just to him though; it was to everyone. Jaheira looked for a second as though she would question her but then closed her mouth abruptly and nodded, sending a glare to the rest of them as though it had been they, not she, who had queried her. Fritha turned back, striding over to the door to pause, drawing a deep breath her hand on the latch. She could do this.
It was like he said; no one messed with the Zhents.
Fritha threw open the door and looked out, two dozen or so faces looking back up at her, pale and uncertain in the half-light. A short olive-skinned man moved forward from the group, thick black brows brought low in a frown.
'What's going on, you're not supposed to be in there, Tazok…'
Fritha stared down at him, watching the realisation dawn.
'They, they were having a meeting. You've killed them, I'll-'
He stepped forward, his sword drawn only for the man next to him to raise an arm, barring his way, and Fritha recognised the broad worn face of Raiken.
'You'll stay there and do as you're told!' he barked before turning back to her, 'So, they all dead?'
Fritha nodded slowly.
'Yes. We have what we came for… I see no need for further bloodshed.'
Raiken narrowed his eyes. 'So you leave, just like that?'
Fritha stared back at him, trying to will a hardness to her eyes.
'No, not quite like that. This camp disbands. Today. Go back to your masters and tell them the Zhentarim had no hand in this, they were hired by an organisation from the Gate, and we'll be going there next. And tell them to keep out of the Sword Coast for a while too. I hear anyone's been causing trouble round here again, we won't be bothering to even clean our swords after you lot, we'll be coming straight for them, understand?'
He nodded, his eyes never leaving her for a second.
Fritha stepped down off the porch, heart in her throat waiting for the crowd to all swarm forward and close about them. But no one moved and, slowly at first, the way parted before her, people moving back, some almost stumbling in their effort to get out of her way and Fritha led them forward. For a moment, she felt god-like; an indescribable rush of brutal power coursing through her as she watched the men before her scurrying to get out of her path, but then her eyes caught a face in the crowd.
Tevan.
Unnaturally pale in the twilight, he watched her pass with something akin to horror and she felt her insides clench, cold and tight. He had led them to this camp and through no fault of his own, unless you were to hold the weakness of his will against him. What price would he have to pay now for his mistake?
They had reached the tree line by now, the murmur of the bandits thrumming in the air behind them as they finally disbanded. But she could still feel his eyes on her and she led them onward through the trees for longer than was necessary. And the image of the boy's face, pale and terrified, stayed with her longer still.
A good few miles they walked, southward through the darkening forest before Fritha finally seemed to feel they were far enough away, stopping in a likely clearing to suggest they make camp. Their new companion stayed long enough to take tea with them before politely taking his leave, claiming he had superiors to inform he wasn't dead, though whether it was fear that perhaps the bandits may try to track them, or an apprehension of something closer to home that drove him off, Jaheira could not guess. She herself had no fear of the former; the looks on the faces of those men as Fritha swept forward, parting them as earth before a plough. She suspected any one of them would rather dance merrily into the Abyss than actually come looking for them.
She glanced to the girl in question, now sat embroidering a green tunic she was sure had belonged to Imoen. However many times the druid told herself it had been an act, and quite a clever one too, which averted needless bloodshed and allowed them to escape unscathed, she still couldn't seem to shake the unease the girl stirred in her. She shivered slightly, Khalid moving to sweep the edge of his cloak over her shoulders with a smile that she wanly returned.
Why didn't they see it? Feel it. Only Dynaheir had noticed so far. But apart from mentioning it to her, she seemed no more concerned about it and was currently sat in quiet conversation with the girl, watching as a pattern of leaves was slowly worked across the cloth.
Jaheira turned from them, suddenly angry with herself. Fritha had done nothing to earn this suspicion. Yes, there was an aura of the unnatural about the girl, but through no fault of her own. Perhaps the Wychlaran had the measure of it, after all. The druid sighed, turning to the girl next to her, more for a distraction than any real curiosity.
'Let us hear what those scrolls have to say then.'
Dynaheir looked up sharply as Imoen began to rummage in her bag.
'I believed we were to leave such discussions until the morn?'
Jaheira shrugged; saved from replying as the thief gave a triumphant shout and pulled a handful of crumpled parchment from her bag.
'I can read!' the girl continued archly, as Jaheira held out her hand for them, and after a moment the druid relented, pulling back her hand with a scowl as the Imoen began.
'This first letter's from a "Davaeorn". He's telling Tazok to get the iron they're stealing to the mine in Cloakwood as soon as possible.' Imoen pursed her lips slightly, as her eyes flew back over the note, checking she hadn't missed anything before taking up the second. 'Another one from Davaeorn. Tazok's to step up the raids and stockpile as much as he can before the ultimatum is given…' The girl shook her head, almost as though she were having trouble believing what she herself had just read out. 'So they're causing the iron shortage? Poisoning the mines and robbing any caravans that pass through, stealing the iron for themselves. Why?'
'Power,' answered Jaheira abruptly, vaguely wondering how she would send news of their discovery to the Harpers. 'By the sound of things, they're starving the Sword Coast of iron while mining it themselves. You have something someone else needs and you have power over them. And Amn getting the blame just serves their purpose even better; when more would you need iron that in a time of war…We have to visit that mine!' she finished, a sudden urgency filling her and silence held the camp, Imoen's eyes still moving over the letter as the girl read on.
'And listen to this "Also, have the band of mercenaries been killed yet? They better have been, as Sarevok won't be happy with any other news…" So it's them that have been sending the bounty hunters after you?' she continued to Fritha, passing the first letter to Jaheira without a glance. 'Yeah, that would make sense, they probably don't want anyone telling the authorities they're behind the iron shortage.'
Jaheira frowned; the thief's concern for her friend was evident, but it did little to keep her mind objective and pinning the bounty offer on the Iron Throne seemed a little too convenient for her liking.
'But weren't you attacked outside the Friendly Arm Inn?'
'Yeah,' Imoen dismissed; a definite air of desperation about her now, 'but Xzar and Montaron were going to investigate the iron shortage, a bounty could have been put on them, too.'
She glanced round at them all, the camp silent until at last a voice broke the stillness.
'Except… it can't have been.'
All eyes turned to Fritha, the girl finally laying down her sewing to speak, voice even and resigned.
'The bounty was on me, the assassin at the Friendly Arm recognised me…'
'Yeah, but-'
'When… when Gorion, when we met the bandits, they didn't just attack outright, they told him to hand me over first and he… he could go free.'
'You never-' began Imoen, the mix of surprise and hurt plain on her features before Fritha cut her off again.
'I was attacked in Candlekeep too, just after I left you… he, he was hiding in the priest's quarters.'
'Fritha…' Imoen breathed, staring at her friend as though she did not know her, 'why didn't you tell me?'
Fritha shook her head, not unhappy but there was a terseness to her voice as she answered.
'I don't know, everything was so complicated, after… afterwards, I just pushed it to the back of my mind.'
'So there are t-two bounties,' continued Khalid, gently drawing the conversation back as Fritha fell silent again, 'one on our group offered by the Iron Throne and one, ah…' his eyes flickered to the girl for the briefest of seconds, and she shrugged slightly, finishing the sentence for him.
'Just on me. That began before I even left Candlekeep, put forward by an unknown, but seemingly wealthy enemy, and for a reason I could not even begin to guess.'
Imoen sighed, casually tossing the second letter into her friend's lap.
'Well, at least we can get rid of one of them.'