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
Of Wolves and MenBack within the village boundaries, life, it seemed, was carrying on as usual, a strange contrast to the carnage they had just experienced. Jaheira cast an eye over the pastoral scene. Harmless though it seemed, she still felt uncomfortable; the people here watched them with an all too guarded eye. She shook herself, trying to allay this unease as she turned back to the group gathered behind her. The child was crying again, his grizzling doing nothing to ease her nerves and she could see the tension in the others too; the group shifting impatiently, ready for some rest, as Fritha paced slowly back and forth before the break, keeping up a near constant murmur at his ear in an effort to sooth him.
'Can't you distract it or something?' snapped Imoen, uncharacteristically irritable ever since Dradeel's concoction had finally worn off an hour ago.
'No… he's tired or hungry, I'm not sure,' Fritha sighed, clearly struggling to keep her patience with them both as she rocked the child, now trying to tempt him with a crooked finger she'd dipped in honey. 'Hush, there now, it's okay.'
The boy quietened slightly as he finally accepted, sucking on her sweetened finger, for the moment mollified, and Jaheira turned her attention back to the group.
'We can make camp on the beach near to where we came ashore. The ground there was high enough and the dunes will provide shelter.'
'And what of…?' Dynaheir questioned with a glance to the child.
'I'm taking him back to his mother,' Fritha announced, her tone just daring anyone to question her. No one did.
'Here,' she continued, hefting the infant on to her hip and holding out a hand, 'give me that cloak and I'll kill two birds with one stone.'
It was a testament to Imoen's tiredness that no comment was made at this and Jaheira handed it over, watching the girl walk down into the east of the village before rallying her own charges to lead them south-westwards back to the dunes.
xxx
Fritha sighed, the sun warm on her back as she walked with the child toward the main square, shoving the cloak into her bag as she went. The square lay empty though, bright and dry in the afternoon, and it was in an effort to find some shade and consider her next move that she found her mark. She crossed the square in a few strides, slipping into the shadow of the furthest building when she saw her. A weary figure, slowly hoeing the plot behind her home, sweat beading the hairs at the base of her neck. Fritha felt her heart swell and drew a deep breath.
'Er, Maralee?'
The woman straightened slowly but did not turn and Fritha could see her shoulders trembling.
'Maralee, he's fine.'
A great shuddering cry rose up from her and she whirled round, sweeping them both into her arms, the cries of both mother and child filling the air.
Finally, they parted, the child now with his mother and still grizzling slightly from the commotion.
'You, my, oh, you brought him, oh, my son, my child.' She sobbed, cradling him close and staring with wonder from him to her, 'oh thank you, thank you!'
Maralee clasped her hand tightly, smiling with a joy that went beyond thanks before releasing her, turning to show the child to those who the noise had gathered.
'See! Do you see? He's alive, he's returned!'
One last glance and smile to her through the press, and mother and child moved away into her home, the crowd leaving with them.
Fritha watched them go, as happy as she'd ever been.
'And I trust you have all returned as well?'
That voice…
She whirled to find a familiar pair of hazel eyes smiling down at her.
'Durlyle!'
His smile broadened as she said his name, shyly dropping his gaze to his hands.
'I... I was worried.'
Fritha smiled too.
'All of us returned, and as whole and hale as ever we were, plus...' she paused teasingly, slowly opening her bag, 'something that you may have more of an interest in…'
He glanced up at this, eyes wide as he breathed, 'you- you have it? I dared not hope.'
'Ta-dah!' she laughed, sweeping the cloak out with a flourish and handing it to him, 'a little muddy from its trip, but none the worse for wear.'
He grinned broadly at her, before it faltered slightly and he dropped his gaze to the cloak he now held.
'I am grateful beyond measure… but sad as well, that I have nothing to give you.'
'Well, thanks tends to be the going rate for what we do,' she continued, for some reason unable to stop smiling, 'and you've already given that. But, since you're the historian here, you could tell me a little of you and yours if you want.'
He glanced up sharply, a slow smile spreading across his face.
'You, you wish to hear of the histories? I- I am flattered. There are few in the village that take an interest. '
'Well, I trained as a bard so-'
She stopped at his puzzled look.
'A…? Sorry, I do not know this word.'
'You don't?' she confirmed, momentarily at a loss, 'oh… well, bards are people who er, well, they play music, sing, perform dramatics, er, recite poetry, write-'
'You do all this?'
'What? Oh gods, no!' she cried, laughing at his awed expression. 'No, most bards only study in one or two disciplines- and I'm pretty rubbish at all of them,' she added with a grin. 'But I do collect stories. Histories, legends…' She trailed off as Durlyle stared down at her, saying nothing, and nervously she took the time to add, almost as though to prove her worth, 'I've a good memory for them and they say I tell them well.'
But he remained silent, and Fritha worried she'd somehow offended him when he finally spoke, casting his gaze northward, out beyond the wall.
'In the north, the histories speak of some ruins from before the beasts were cast out, when all belonged... I have never seen them, but now...'
He paused, turning back to look at her, a strange light in his eyes.
'Would you like to go?'
Fritha smiled, all at once relieved and warmed.
'Very much.'
A quick detour to restore the cloak to its rightful place in the village centre and Durlyle led the way through the opening in the wall, skirting westwards along the boundary before breaking off to head north through the forests, both of them keeping an eye out for any of the remaining werewolves. But they saw no one as they walked side by side beneath the shade of the trees, Fritha delighting in the breeze, the birdsong and his company; her breathlessness having nothing to do with the pace he'd set, though she might have liked to pretend otherwise.
And all the while they talked, Durlyle pressing her for details of the shipwreck that had brought his people to the island so long ago, her showing him the journals she had found before their conversation moved on to more personal subjects.
'I was born here twenty winters ago,' Durlyle began, in answer to her enquiries of his family, 'though my father was already dead by then, a victim of the beasts, and sickness claimed my mother before I reached my second year. I was raised since then by the previous historian, Gidaal, an elder who taught me of the time before and the histories of we people.'
He smiled gently, his eyes gaining a distance as he continued, 'I found it interesting. Having no sense of past without my parents, I liked the idea I could trace myself back, that I belonged. Gidaal himself died some years back now, but I have always the others; all belong. What of you, Fritha? Did you leave a family on the mainland?'
She turned her attention to the path ahead, toying briefly with the idea of explaining things before shaking her head.
'No, I… I did not know my father… and my mother died in childbirth. I was raised in Candlekeep, a library fortress, by one of the sages there. He was Gorion. He cared for me as a daughter, but he was taken from me, murdered while protecting me from bounty hunters but three months ago.'
'Oh,' he exclaimed with surprise, his expression pained, 'I am sorry truly, I- I do not know what to say.'
She shrugged and offered him a wan smile; there wasn't really much he could say, though his concern was warming in its own way.
They continued on a moment, neither speaking when he suddenly cried 'ah, look!' and she glanced up to see him smiling, gazing out through the trees.
'Do you see the ruins?'
'No, but just as precious.'
He quickened his pace and Fritha noticed a small clearing up ahead left by a fallen tree, its rotting trunk still lain across the glade. The break in the canopy had allowed sunlight to reach the forest floor and a carpet of murky indigo flowers covered the ground.
'Belladonna. Beautiful, are they not?' he smiled, stooping to pick the closest bloom and hold it out for her study. 'Can you smell them? They smell strongly of...' he paused to think on this before admitting with a laugh, 'I know not what.'
Fritha leant forward slightly and inhaled, the musky, faintly sweet scent of the flowers mingling with the earthy smell of his hands.
'They are rare here,' he continued, his voice lower, somehow bolder, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise, 'even in high summer and grow in only a few places… like friendship and… other things…'
His voice trailed off and she could sense him looking down at her, her eyes still fixed on the flower he held. She straightened slowly, part of her so desperate to look up at him, to know what would happen, the rest more afraid than she had ever been. Finally, she faced him and they just stood watching each other, the sounds of the forest magnified to an almost deafening level, pollen sparkling in the air about them, every ounce of her willing him to do it, unsure of exactly what she was waiting for as she watched the shadow of it play behind his eyes, before he suddenly smiled and it was gone. He reached forward, entwining the flower about her bag strap with ease and she smiled back, disappointment and relief cancelling each other out.
'Come, it's just up ahead.'
She nodded, moving to follow him, another rush of warmth leaving her knees weak as he shyly caught her hand to lead her.
They reached the ruins but moments later, the forest thinning and at last falling away as they drew nearer to the coast. The ancient hall stood silent before them in stone, tall and imposing, and looking out of place in the wilderness of its surroundings. Durlyle led the way; slowly circling the building once before stepping under the high arched doorway, Fritha at his side.
The inside was dark, shafts of light splitting the gloom where areas of thatch had been lost, the air above them thrumming with the purr of roosting doves. The walls were lined with wooden pillars; a simple pattern of leaves half-carved, half-burnt on to each and continuing up them as far as the shadows would allow her to see.
'Durlyle,' she whispered, for some reason unwilling to break the stillness of the place as she beckoned him over to a section of wall, where a series of intricate markings had been carved. He studied them a moment before turning back to her with a shrug, none the wiser, taking some thin reed paper and stained wax from his bag, and Fritha watched as he took a rubbing. They moved on, Durlyle stopping every now and then to take notes or collect a sample of tile or stonework, Fritha tearing a page from her journal to make a quick sketch of the inside, complete with annotations and measurements, before they both returned to the sunlight of the open air, where at last it seemed they could speak freely.
Durlyle shook his head, shading his eyes beneath a hand as he gazed up at the building with awe.
'I knew the histories spoke of a meeting hall, but that we people could have built such a thing, I never imagined…' he trailed off, turning to her as though his wonder was beyond expression.
Fritha smiled gently.
'Perhaps more could be accomplished when your people and the werewolves worked together. Do you think there can be peace now Karoug is gone?'
'I do not know…' he shrugged, turning back to the ancient building, 'and before, perhaps I would not have cared. But to see this place, to know what could be done when all belonged…' He smiled down at her fondly, 'I find myself hoping it could be so.'
They remained there for another hour or so, just sat beneath the trees, eating the strange picnic of food that Durlyle happened to have with him and what rations of hers that had managed to survive the shipwreck, before making to head back to the village. They avoided the forests this time though, but for no other reason than the variety of it, Durlyle leading her south along the beach, both with their boots off and wading through the shallow swell until they reached the rocks that formed the natural boundary of the village.
The sun hung low over the sea now, bathing them in light and she watched him leap from rock to rock, his hair and skin glowing gold, every fibre of him smiling as he turned to help her cross some gap or steady her footing.
Fritha scrambled up the huge boulder that currently blocked her path, seawater still pooled in the depressions and pocks that covered it, standing on its top to throw her arms wide, enjoying the feeling as the breeze tore at her hair and clothes while Durlyle laughed at the sight. She reached down a hand to help him and he climbed up to stand behind her, so close she could feel his warmth as he pointed over her shoulder to the sea before them.
'Out there, from further west than the light sets, we came to this place on a ship home. The explorers brought us long ago and together we sailed east. Then the histories speak of a great storm, though some say it came from within. We that did belong were to be cast aside and fought the explorers we did. The ship sank. Much was lost but this island won.'
He smiled gently as he dropped his gaze to her, their cheeks almost touching '…it was worth it, I think.'
'Durlyle,' she ventured, for some reason unsure of her question as she watched the hazel eyes watch her, 'what do you mean when you say you belong?'
But the youth just shook his head and shrugged, straightening to gaze back out to sea.
'We belong. If you were to stay, you would belong too. I, I cannot explain more, there are no words for it.'
They walked on, finally crossing the boundary and down into the dunes beyond to settle in the shelter of one of the deeper troughs, the sea just visible over the southern bank, shimmering in the dying sunlight.
'It's beautiful here,' Fritha sighed, leaning back on the sand behind, her gaze falling on Durlyle who nodded, smiling gently.
'Yes. It saddens me that many would want to leave. Kaishas and the chieftain, Selaad, speak of the mainland as though it is some fabled paradise and many have been swayed by their words, growing discontented with their lives here that before held only joy for them. But I shall remain whatever is decided, and I am heartened that now the beasts are subdued, others may find a reason to stay as well.'
Fritha smiled, glad to have helped just as she was unhappy with what it meant. Kaishas had given her the impression that all the villagers would want to leave, and the realisation that as soon as she had met him they would be parted again left her suddenly empty. She turned back to the sea, silent, but he seemed to read her thoughts and she could feel him watching her as he continued quietly.
'You will return to the mainland…'
'Yes,' she confirmed, unable to look at him, 'as soon as Kaishas and the villagers are ready. There is a war coming… I don't know how, but my friends and I just seem to be in the middle of it. We have information though, that could stop the thing before it starts…'
'And because you can, you will…' he shook his head, 'you, and your friends, I have never met your like before… Even your appearances!' he continued, his voice regaining some of its previous life, 'may I?'
She turned to find his hand held up as though to remove her hair pins and she obliged him with a shrug, sweeping them both out at once and shaking out the stiff mass of curls. Durlyle whistled through his teeth and she saw a glimpse of the man who had stood with her at the ancient hall.
'I had heard that Karoug's mate had black hair, but yours… I have never seen anything quite as vivid in my life! Do others on the mainland have similar?'
'This colour? Yes. This messy? …Thankfully no!' she laughed, a touch embarrassed by the state of it as she examined a frosted curl with amused regret. 'It's not normally quite this untidy though; I don't think the saltwater agreed with it.'
He grinned, taking up a thicker ringlet and straightening it in his fingers, delighting in the way it sprang back once released.
'I like it.'
She smiled and shrugged.
'I'll have to get Imoen to help me brush it out, though it really needs a wash, to be honest.'
'Do you have a comb with you?'
She smiled tentatively at the unspoken offer and nodded once, fetching out her comb and shifting until she had her back to him, her stomach shuddering as two hand moved up to scoop her hair back, brushing her neck as they passed.
He moved as well, placing a leg either side of her and, with gentle measured strokes, began to comb it through.
'You can pull a bit more if you like,' she prompted, his touch so light she suspected he was frightened of catching a knot, 'I don't mind if it hurts. You'll be there all day otherwise.'
But she did not need to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.
'I am in no rush.'
She smiled too, closing her eyes, just enjoying the feel of the comb in her hair and the steady sound of his breathing at her ear.
xxx
Jaheira laid still, watching stars flicker as high clouds drifted overhead, grey against the indigo sky. She sighed and shifted slightly; their bedding had been stored in the hold and lost when the ship went down, but the sand was comfortable enough without and she would have quite enjoyed lying there, the wool of her cloak soft beneath her, had it not been for the sense of unease that haunted her. Ever since they arrived at the island, something had not been resting well with her, something she could not quite explain away as the obvious hostility of the villagers.
Jaheira frowned slightly, raising herself on an elbow to glance about the group around her, her eyes falling on Imoen opposite, who was better for her sleep and now lain on her stomach trying to read what appeared to be a letter in the twilight. She imagined Fritha there with her, giggling with the lively girl or scribbling away in her diary, but Jaheira had not seen her since they first arrived back and though the woman would never have admitted it, she was worried for her.
Jaheira readily confessed that, at first, she had been unconcerned; the girl had always been liable to wander, but as the sun dropped in the west and she had still not returned, Jaheira had begun to worry. It was only when she voiced her concerns to Khalid that the truth of it was found. The man had looked unsure a moment, watching her from beneath a contemplative frown before taking her aside to quietly explain that Fritha had met someone, a boy of her own age; expressly forbidding Jaheira to make a fuss with uncharacteristic firmness.
Jaheira sighed, she could appreciate Khalid's concern at her reaction, but he just did not understand the way she felt when the villagers were near. Something about them was wrong and the idea that Fritha was now alone among them as night fell did nothing to calm her nerves.
'Dost thou think we should go and find Fritha?' asked Dynaheir from across the dune, the twilight making her face unreadable though Jaheira could hear the concern in her voice. 'The hour grows late and we have yet to report back to Kaishas.'
Imoen sat up at the mention of her friend, clearly ready with some dissent but Jaheira cut her off.
'I agree. Come on,' she continued to Imoen, standing to shoulder her pack as the Rashemi did the same, 'get your bag and let us go.'
The girl looked as though she would protest a moment, but Khalid stood as well, offering to help her with her bag and the girl swallowed her complaint, shot her a mutinous look and sullenly rose to follow them.
xxx
Fritha sighed gently. Someone far off was calling her name and she twisted, trying to bury herself from it, soft laughter filling the air as her pillow trembled.
'Fritha…'
Finally, she willed herself awake, lifting her head slightly and looking up in to a pair of warm hazel eyes.
'Durlyle?'
'Indeed.' He smiled, brushing some stray hair from her face.
She looked past him to see a hazy crescent moon hung low in the violet sky, the sea quicksilver under its glow. That didn't seem right.
'It's night?'
'Fritha,' he repeated, smiling at her confusion, 'you fell asleep.'
She glanced down at what had been serving as her makeshift pillow and felt her stomach twist painfully, a blush slowly creeping in to her cheeks.
'Sorry about that,' she mumbled, pulling her head back from his outstretched arm and quickly sitting up, 'why didn't you wake me?'
Durlyle just shrugged, still laid down with his head propped up on his crooked arm and an amused smile pulling at his mouth.
'You would still be sleeping now, if it were not for them.'
'Who?' she questioned, scanning about her.
'Your friends, they must need you.'
The night was dark. The moon bathing the surrounding dunes in a soft grey light, but a few paces out and the darkness curtained off the world, the only sounds the rustle of the breeze through the dune grass and the distant roar of the sea. Fritha turned back to him, puzzled.
'How do you know?'
'They are coming,' he repeated, avoiding the question, 'you had better go and report to Kaishas.'
'Yes…' she agreed after a pause, feeling strangely caught out, 'yes, of course.'
Durlyle smiled again.
'I will wait for you outside the halls, if you have no objection.'
Fritha nodded, reassured slightly and he caught her hand, pressing the comb into it gently before releasing her. One last smile and she rose to see her friends, still over three dunes away, just dark silhouettes in the east.
xxx
Fritha sighed, ambling along as best she could over the shifting sand as she moved towards them, a strange unrest within her. She sincerely wished she hadn't fallen asleep, wasting what little time they had left of their day together. And perhaps even more ardently, she wished she had not been such a coward before, when they'd stood together in the glade. Maybe if she'd made a move as well, touched his sleeve or smiled…
'And not just stood there like a startled rabbit!' her mind scolded and she could not help but smile, albeit ruefully. Surely anything would have been better than the unbearable curiosity that burned within her now. She reached the crest of a dune, pausing to watch as the shadow of her friends gathered at its foot.
They must have noticed she didn't return that afternoon; had they been worried? Would Imoen have told them?
Embarrassment instantly welled within her at the thought, only to be fought down as soon as it surfaced. Imoen could be a bit self-focused sometimes, but she wouldn't do that. Besides, she had done nothing to be ashamed of and she wasn't going to spend the last couple of days she had with Durlyle skulking about all embarrassed!
Her decision made, Fritha was suddenly flying down the dune to meet them, an assortment of excuses still whirling in her mind. But they merely greeted her without comment, none of them the slightest bit interested in where she'd been, barring, of course, Imoen.
'So what have you been up to?' she began once they had regrouped and were walking back to the village, the nonchalance of her tone belied by the knowing look she was giving her, 'you never came back to camp…'
'I went for a walk,' Fritha answered promptly, glad for the darkness as she felt her face colour; saying she wasn't going to be embarrassed and actually not being embarrassed, worlds apart it seemed.
'A walk? For all this time?' Imoen grinned broadly '…I know you were with Lyley.'
Fritha gave a mild shrug.
'And what if I was?'
'Oooo, what did you do?'
Fritha gave her an abridged version of the afternoon, where they visited the ruins and then walked back along the beach, putting heavy emphasis on the educational aspects of the trip. But Imoen was relentless, questioning her over and over about where they had gone and why her hair was down, and when she finally noticed the flower Fritha was sure the girl was going to suffer a palsy. They had reached the square by now, the pair last as the group filed up the steps to Kaishas' hut.
'Oh my gods! What did he do? What did he say?'
'For the last time Imoen, we just went for a walk!'
'And?'
'And nothing.'
'Come on, tell me!'
'There's nothing to tell!'
'Fritha!'
'Imoen!'
'Shut up!' Snapped a familiar voice, the pair glancing up to see Jaheira glowering down at them, eyes barely visible beneath her frown. Imoen drew herself up, clearly affronted by this interruption, though the druid seemed not to care.
'Not another word from either of you, or you can both wait outside!'
And with that, she turned smartly on her heel and disappeared inside the hut, leaving Imoen to stare after her, open-mouthed.
Fritha smirked at her and pulled a face, Imoen returning the gesture with feeling, both giggling away to themselves as they followed the woman into the warm yellow light.
Inside, the others were already sat about the fire pit, Kaishas and a lean tanned man Fritha did not recognise opposite them.
'I hear you were successful,' the woman smiled, her hair gold in the firelight and Jaheira nodded sternly.
'The way is now clear and we can leave as soon as you are ready.'
'Wonderful,' she cried, smiling round at them all, 'we people are truly in your debt. Much there is to be planned for our great voyage. May I please see the sea charts used to get here?'
Kaishas glanced about expectantly her eyes focusing on Fritha as she made a move to her bag and, after a moment's rummaging, produced a tightly rolled map.
The woman eyed it hungrily, but waited politely until it was passed to her, unfurling it to gaze at the faded inks in the firelight, before rolling it up again and placing reverently on the basket behind her. She turned back to them, still smiling though her voice had taken on a sombre edge as she continued.
'You are truly deserving of our gift. No more thought of fight or flight, for now you will all belong as we. Hear the tale and join our humble legion.'
The man at her side stirred slightly, but she held up a hand and he fell silent once more.
'They did not wish to be become as we. They fought our mother's grandmothers and would not reason. Balduran led them and because of his leadership many on both sides died.'
'But,' began Imoen at her side, and Fritha could hear her own unease in her voice, 'but you said you'd never heard of Balduran.'
Kaishas smiled gently, almost sadly.
'He would not belong… and now we know not to ask. It is not so bad and you will begin to feel as we in a short time. It may be... unstable for a time, you may...hurt...' She tailed off, a frown marring her brow as though remembering some past suffering, before she ploughed on. 'But you will live, and we, your kin, shall guide you and you will be as us, not as the beasts were. Together, we shall all go to new forests and plains with your maps and our ship-home.'
Kaishas beamed and extended a hand, unaware it seemed of the horror that slowly dawning on the other side of the flames. 'We welcome you that now belong.'
Fritha swallowed, staring at that outstretched hand, and the long clawed shadow it threw against the cabin wall.
'What? They c-cannot mean...?' Khalid whispered at her side, as though afraid voicing it would make it true.
'Both...' Fritha breathed, hardly able to believe it herself. So much made sense now; things he'd said… 'Both tribes are werewolves!'
'By Silvanus!'
But theirs were not the only objections. The man was suddenly on his feet, trembling as he roared at the woman below him.
'I say nay Kaishas and others with me!'
'Tailes? what do you speak of?'
'These mongrels are not welcome! We pure of blood from ages of the change. They are not as we. They will not belong, I will not allow it! I have told the village of their hatred, of what their kind does to we! Believed me our people have. These mongrels will not leave alive, but we shall, with ship and maps.'
He straightened to stand proudly, clearly expecting her to agree, his smug countenance shattered as Kaishas snorted, springing up to face him.
'Fool! The charts are mine and I will not see them damaged in the coming conflict.' She turned to them one final time, 'I am sorry, I will not risk this for you.'
As with that she snatched up the maps and swept out.
Tailes' anger redirected in an instant.
'You!' he snarled, lunging at Imoen only to meet Khalid's sword. Fritha watched as he struggled a moment, grasping ineffectually at the blade in his chest before slumping forward, twitching slightly as Khalid withdrew his sword.
Everyone seemed shocked at how quickly he fell, the group just stood staring at his prone form as though half-expecting him to rise again.
'Until they change… they are just as men…' muttered Dynaheir somewhere behind her, everyone starting as a distant howl broke the stillness.
They poured outside onto the walkway. All around her, howls and snarls seemed to fill the shadows and for the first time she wondered if they would even make it through the night.
'Come on!' she cried suddenly as the thought of it seized her, clattering down the steps, the others at her heels.
She glanced quickly about the darkened square and had hardly gathered her bearings when a low growl behind her made the hairs on her neck bristle. She whirled, sword held across her just in time to catch the beast's lunge, flying from the shadows under the building to send them both hurtling backwards into the square.
'Hel- pleas-' she gasped, winded as she was slammed onto the packed earth, twisting beneath the creature as jaws flashed just inches from her face. A roar somewhere above and another collided with them, the solid figure of Minsc barrelling into the beast to knock it off her, the others rushing in to finish it.
'Are you okay?' asked Imoen reaching down a hand to help her up.
She just nodded, still trying to catch her breath as she straightened, heart trembling in her chest. Another sound behind her and she was swinging round, her sword high when Imoen screamed and a familiar voice cried, 'Fritha!'
She stopped just in time, but couldn't quite bring herself to lower the weapon as she stared up into the shocked white face of Durlyle.
'Please, Fritha, it is fine,' he soothed, gently pushing her blade down as he stepped closer, 'I did not know she was to do this… that- that we people could do this…'
'Durlyle…' she choked out, her fear and relief mixing to make her feel suddenly tearful. He smiled, pulling her into a quick but tight embrace, the strength of it bringing her round slightly as they parted.
'They always spoke of the other tribe's violence,' he said, shaking his head darkly, 'how easily they justify their own…'
He paused a moment, eyes studying her in the gloom before he continued with a sudden urgency, taking her hand to pull her with him. 'Come. I know of a passage kept from the others, from the time before. It leads straight to the cove of the ship. Come, there is no time.'
She raced after him, the others close behind, seeing an attack in every shadow as they ran northwards out of the square, cutting east before the fields and up the steps of another large wooden hut, built to rest against the cliffs. Inside, it was lain out similar to Kaishas' hut though no one appeared to live there; rough chests and baskets lining the walls while rush matting covered the floor. Durlyle moved over to the far wall, feeling slowly along the wooden panels as the others filed in behind her, Minsc turning to bar the door.
'Here,' he finally grunted, fitting his fingers behind a panel and sliding a whole section back with some force to reveal a heavy granite door, 'this leads all the way to the cove, just head downwards.'
He twisted a nearby torch bracket and the stone slid aside, smoothly mechanical, opening to a dim rock passageway. The rest of them were already through and herself half-turned to go when he caught her sleeve. Fritha spun back to face him, the sound of movement outside panicking her.
'Come on! We don't-'
She stopped dead. One look at his face and it was as though an icy fist had closed around her stomach. He reached a hand down to brush a few stray hairs from her face, smiling gently.
'I would I could have met you sooner.'
'Durlyle?'
She sense Imoen at her back, the rest of them crowding behind her in the gloom of the passage, questioning the delay.
'I will hold them here,' he said to someone behind her, as the cabin door rattled violently in its frame, 'get to the ship, there is still time.'
'What?' she shouted, struggling to free herself from the hand that suddenly grasped her belt, pulling her backwards thorough the doorway, 'no!'
He stooped slightly and she quietened as his face grew closer, the warm eyes sad.
'They are my people, it should be me. Goodbye Fritha.'
He leant in, the briefest touch of lips on her forehead and he was gone, straightening just in time to face the two werewolves that burst through in a hail of splintering wood.
He didn't look back. Just twisted the bracket one final time and smoothly the door slid shut
Frithastood, not moving, not speaking. In that tunnel, so bare and silent, the world could have been a dream.
Just stood staring at the point on that cold soulless stone where he had been, the desire to scream and claw him back quivering inside her. She turned suddenly, unable to stand the sight of it a moment longer and was almost surprised to find them behind her, all waiting, as silent as she.
All waiting on her.
'Right-' her voice lurched, the lump in her throat distorting the words. She sucked in a sharp breath steeling herself; there was no time!
'Right. I'll take point, Imoen you're with me, keep an eye out for traps. You too, Jaheira, and Dynaheir, let's have some light.'
They raced through passage after passage, always deeper, the walls becoming damper as they ran. Fritha dragged them on, a stitch screaming in her side, every fork in the tunnel a split second decision that left her with the growing worry she could be leading them to their doom.
And suddenly they were out. The unexpected space surprising Fritha so, she stopped dead, skidding on the sandy ground as Jaheira barrelled into the back of her. A small cove opened out before them, the moonlight streaming in to highlight the ship moored at its centre. Relief flooded her and for a moment it was all she could do to stand, Jaheira catching her arm as she swayed slightly. But then she saw her, and the world fell away…
Fritha stood, every fibre of her being focused on the small figure that was trimming the rigging, the light from her lantern winking merrily. A great swell of rage roared within her as she watched the architect of all this horror calmly preparing the ship for launch, and before she could even think, she had shaken off Jaheira's hand and was stalking towards the gangplank, heart thudding in time to her footsteps.
Her feet made no sound on the smooth wood of the deck and it wasn't until she was right behind Kaishas that the woman noticed and, startled, spun to face her.
'Wha-?'
SLAP
The woman stumbled backwards into the mast, a hand gingerly clasped to the livid marks now on her cheek.
'Why? WHY?' Fritha demanded, shaking and flushed, 'half the island is dead! And for what? We only wanted to leave!'
Kaishas eyed her coldly.
'We all do as we must. I for mine and you for yours. Here, though you may be, but alone. And stop me, you will not.'
'She is not alone.'
She didn't need to turn to recognise the sharp voice, and the look of dawning horror on Kaishas' pale face said more than could have even been expressed.
'You can never belong,' the woman snarled with sudden defiance, 'you must die!'
She went to lunge at her, a hand already clawed and ready. But Fritha did not flinch, did not even move, the arrow that whistled past her so close it stirred the curls at her ear. Kaishas' eyes went wide, an awful rasping breath leaving her as she stumbled forward, the arrow straight through her throat, before she sank to her knees and finally died.
'F-Fritha.' Stuttered a voice behind her and she glanced back to see Khalid hurrying towards her, bow in hand, looking quickly from her to the woman. 'Child…'
She made no answer though, returning her gaze to the lifeless body, memorising the way her face looked as the bruise darkened on her cheek.
'Are you okay?' Imoen asked in a small voice, stepping up beside her looking as pale as Khalid.
Fritha shrugged, pushing her hair out of her eyes and finding her cheek wet.
It took her a moment to realise she'd been crying.
She turned from the girl, unable to stand the concern in her eyes a moment longer, and reached down to cast off.
On waters as still as her heart, they set sail.
At first, there was numbness, summoned from whatever depths even she kept disciplined. The wind was against them and all hands were needed on that tiny vessel, the hours of mindless tacking blending into one. But at last, a stiff westerly picked up, driving them steadily eastwards and after that…
Gods…
Sorrow. Sorrow without measure, and all the curses and prayers in the world could not bring him back.