Chapter 2

The mad dash

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One never quite appreciated daylight until they've been deprived of it for a few weeks.

That gleaming pinprick of light ahead was all that mattered to Elene in the dark, narrow tunnel. Even as she shambled forward in borrowed armour, an unfamiliar sword clasped tightly like a lifeline, her eyes never strayed from that ray of hope. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to go faster, get there faster, though her battered body protested at the sudden burst of activity after laying on her back for so long. At least her captor had bothered to fully heal her after the last round of torture. She blinked at the sweat threatening to fall into her eye, swiping at her damp forehead with a free hand. For the first time, she realised how hot it was now that they were so close to a way out.

"Oh, thank the Gods," Imoen breathed as the tunnel gradually brightened.

"The sun is always shining somewhere," Elene murmured.

"Not here, though. Not in those jars. Or that room with the knives," Imoen whispered.

Throwing a concerned glance over her shoulder, Elene could see the relief on her friend's face, though it was mixed with a haunted look she didn't want to look too closely at. Imoen's hair had turned auburn at the roots, clashing with the light pink she'd dyed the rest of her hair with, a sign of the weeks they'd spent languishing in this hole.

The relief, though, was wholeheartedly shared by their new friend, a Kara-Turan named Yoshimo. He flashed a quick smile at her when he felt eyes on him. She almost returned it, then she caught sight of Jaheira's tired visage behind him, forcing her to revisit that line of thought. Perhaps friend was too strong a word for the moment. Acquaintance would fit better, given they had no idea of his background or how he ended up in this hellish pit with them in the first place.

The past few hours flashed through her mind like a bad dream. The winding corridors, those poor men floating in dark jars, the elf-like creature who claimed she was a failed copy of another woman, and worst of all…dear Oghma, she will never get the sound of Jaheira's anguished wail out of her mind for the rest of her days. Khalid, dear Khalid, taken from them in the worst way possible. She could never erase from her mind the state of his corpse, the man who was once Jaheira's husband. Then Imoen's whispers of what she'd been shown, and what had been done to him…

She redirected her focus to the path ahead as her hand began to shake.

Later. Get out first. Process later.

Her renewed focus accelerated her pace, pushing her forward until she was standing at the cusp of an opening leading to somewhere bright and sunny. She sheathed her sword, studying the condition of the tunnel around her. A tremendous blast must have ripped through the area recently, the debris around her still smoking from the after effect. Undeterred, she ignored the aches in her limbs to clamber over broken stones partially blocking the exit, cutting her hand on some of the jagged rock as she did. The pain felt inconsequential to her in that moment. Especially when freedom was so close, she could almost taste it.

Then she was out in open air, coughing as dust assailed her upon surfacing. The dirt beneath her hands was the colour of copper, the air dry and arid as she sucked deep lungfuls of air. Still on all fours, she looked up to the blazing sun at its zenith beating down on white domed buildings and multicoloured pavilions, which would have looked majestic but for the smoke and dust obscuring the area. A leather-armoured man stood not far away with his back to her, reloading a crossbow, but he hadn't noticed her, his eyes fixed on something higher up above the ruins. Squinting at him, she scampered to her feet as quietly as she could, turning to help pull her friends out of the opening…

…And was blasted off her feet by a stray fireball.

For a while, she was conscious of nothing except the ringing in her ears. Her body was one giant bruise, and she could feel heat licking at her right side, whereby the functioning logical part of her brain pointed out that her leather armour had likely caught fire. Yet she couldn't find it in herself to roll over to put it out, or even to move at all. Slowly, the ringing subsided, and she felt thick cloth being pulled over her. And familiar, insistent hands turning her over and pressing fingers against her pulse.

"She's alive!"

Sluggishly, Elene cracked an eye open, blinking a few times against the harsh light. Jaheira's worried face stared down at her, the other woman already beginning a healing chant to remedy the worst of her injuries. Yoshimo hovered in her peripheral vision with a worried expression, but she couldn't see Imoen. A swell of panic bubbled in her chest, and she grabbed at Jaheira's hand with urgency, unmindful of the flash of pain (everything hurts) her sudden movement triggered.

"We need to go!" she hissed, her voice cracking.

"So, you have escaped."

Her blood ran cold. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She thought of cold knives, thinner and more delicate than anything she'd ever handled, because his knives were made to dissect, and to bleed you slowly while you watch as rivulets of your own lifeblood drip down your arms and trickle through your fingers. While he stood there watching, nothing but detached curiosity in his eyes before he cut her again. The animal part of her subconscious shrieked at her to get up and run for all she's worth. Instead, she found that she could only lay there in abject terror at the thought of seeing his masked face again.

"You're not going to torture us any longer!"

Imoen's shadow fell over her, her friend standing straight and tall with her fists balled as she faced off against their tormentor. While she marvelled at Imoen's courage, mostly she wanted to beg her to slink into the shadows, to get away with her hide intact. There was no way any of them would be able to walk away from a fight with this man. Not at full health, and certainly not in their current weakened state.

"Torture you?" A scoff. "Silly girl, you have no idea what I'm doing for you, do you?"

"We don't want anything from you," Imoen bit back.

If Elene was scared earlier, she was terrified now. But the determination in her friend's voice forced her to swallow whatever uncertainty holding her down. Imoen's hands began weaving patterns as she chanted, and Elene hauled herself up against Jaheira's protest. To stop her, to help her. To do something. She couldn't let Imoen face that creature alone.

Magenta bolts of magic flew unerringly from Imoen's fingers towards her target, who loomed above them on a piece of jutting rubble that may have once been a stone platform. Once upright, Elene finally got a good look at him. A tall man with pale skin, dressed in leathers. His form is slender, almost delicate if one studied his hands. Instead of a face, though, a mask was set in place, so that all you could really see of him were his blue eyes, blue like the sky in high summer. As beautiful as they were chilling. Those eyes narrowed as Imoen's magical attack struck him, though they had as much effect on him as mosquito bites would. What was she thinking, attacking him with magic like that?

"Enough!" the man snapped.

The bolt he fired back at Imoen was no novice spell. It struck her hard on the shoulder, causing her to stagger back with a pained cry. Elene snarled as she bounded forward on raw adrenaline, standing in front of Imoen like a mortal shield. As if she could make a difference. Her fingers twitched as she ran through her own repertoire of meagre cantrips, desperately trying to think of how she was going to get them all out of this.

A distraction perhaps. Something just enough to get Imoen and Jaheira out of there. The words to the spell were there, just at the tip of her tongue, as her hand began to move in a familiar pattern.

Blue shimmering out of the corner of her eye made her pause. Turning, she saw three, no, four robed figures appear from fading dimension doors. Confused, she glanced at Jaheira, who signalled for her to wait. The meaning was clear in the other woman's eyes. She swallowed, gripping Imoen on the arm. Ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"This is an unsanctioned use of magic energy!" one of the robed men shouted. "You will come with us or face the consequences of your actions."

The masked man shook his head. "We shall see about that."

What ensued was the most ferocious magical battle Elene had ever seen in her life. It was fortunate Imoen had the presence of mind to pull them into cover, otherwise she was likely to have stood there in the firing line gawking at the captivating display of magic. Flashes of red and blue rays streaked back and forth, dirt flying from sizeable craters formed where blasts missed their target, though it became abundantly clear that the four mages, impressive as they seemed, were no match for the masked man. Their attacks rolled off him like water off a duck's back, while he fired back with lethal spells which killed one man instantly and turned the other to stone.

"How does he do that?" Imoen muttered in awe.

"We must find an opening to run, these mages won't last long," Jaheira nudged her.

Before Elene could respond, more dimension doors shimmered into being around them. Half a dozen more mages entered the fray, the air around them crackling with energy as they launched more spells at the masked man. Dismay filled Elene as she wrapped her arm tight around Imoen, as there was no way they would be able to escape this barrage without being turned to dust in the crossfire. Once again, the masked man's shields absorbed the incoming attacks and his return salvo devastated the ranks of his enemies.

As more mages fell, another half dozen dimension doors appeared. The masked man paused, taking in the replenished numbers lined up against him, though without even a trickle of apprehension in his bearing. He might as well have been surveying a pleasant landscape.

"Come then. Let this end," he said, his tone cold.

One of the mages stepped forward. "Even if we fall, our numbers are many. You will be overwhelmed."

"You bore me, mageling." Then, inexplicably, he glanced at the three battered women in the rubble, his features turning thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. "Very well, you may take me in, but you will take the girl as well."

"W-what?"

Elene's fight or flee instinct triggered, her breath quickening and her hold around Imoen tightening as the mages turned to look at them. Even as her wild eyes flickered to each of the robed figures, her world narrowed into the cold sweat breaking out over her skin, and the trembling of her friend's shoulder. What was she to do? If they couldn't face this masked monster, how were they to face an army of powerful mages?

"I didn't do anything wrong!" cried Imoen.

"You are guilty of using magic without a license. You will come with us," replied one of the robed men. Then he raised a hand and pointed ominously towards Imoen.

"No!" Elene shrieked.

And although her arm was around Imoen, she felt the tingling of magic coalesce around her friend. The mage's teleportation magic had attuned itself, and there was nothing she could do but watch as a dimension door appeared above their heads. At the last second, Imoen called out her name, her fingers digging tightly into her arm, green eyes wide with fear.

And then she was gone.

Elene fell back to the ground. Staring at the spot where her friend was, moments ago. The yawning emptiness of that space cut through her like a physical wound, while her mind gibbered senseless recriminations, useless what-ifs on what she could have done, should have done to avert what had just happened. There were ways, she knew, to disrupt a teleport spell. Why couldn't she think of one? Slowly, she pressed a hand against her mouth as the last of her composure evaporated, and it was all she could do to keep from keening senselessly into the void her friend left behind.

Jaheira kneeled by her side. Nothing was said. Minutes dragged by until her heart rate began to slow, the pounding in her head receding into a dull throb. Elene looked up and saw that Jaheira's usually vivid blue eyes were dull, a mirror to her own. Even so, Jaheira reached over to place a firm grip on her shoulder, telling her all that needed to be said in that one gesture.

"Why…why did they take her?" Elene whispered.

A deep sigh was Jaheira's first response. Then, "I believe we are in Athkatla. The practice of magic is outlawed here, with heavy penalties imposed on those who do not abide."

Athkatla? The name lethargically rotated within her mind for a few moments before Elene remembered her old geography lessons from Candlekeep. Athkatla was the capital city of Amn, situated in the region between Calimshan and the Sword Coast. Her eyes widened at the realisation that they were many miles south from where their group had been ambushed on the Coast Way. Jaheira prodded her, bringing her back to the present.

"Elene, we have to go."

She didn't want to go. She wanted to lay there in the dirt and wait for the ground to swallow her whole. That was the best outcome she could hope for in their hopeless predicament. But then she glanced at the spot where Imoen was bare minutes ago and knew that she couldn't afford such weakness.

"Where can we go?" she croaked.

Jaheira cast her gaze about, frowning. The strands frizzing out from the tight braids she wears her hair in looked wrong on the usually conscientious woman. "If I'm not mistaken, this is Waukeen's Promenade. I can think of a few places we can take shelter while we think of our next move."

"You are correct in that, my friend. This is indeed Athkatla," Yoshimo piped up as he looked around. In the light, his skin was actually the colour of olive, and his hair jet black underneath the coat of dust he'd accumulated along their escape. "I knew they could not have taken me far; I'd only been taken two days earlier. In fact, I can take you to the inn I was staying at. Not the most pleasant of places, but safe enough for those who can handle a weapon."

"You're offering help?" Jaheira narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? You barely know us."

"I know that you were kind enough to help a fellow prisoner escape. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Please, allow me to repay it," he bowed.

Elene peered up at him, this mysterious man who'd cheerfully put himself at their service. In their sorry state, could they really afford to be choosy with the type of help they secure? "Alright. Show us the way."

Beaming, Yoshimo extended a hand to help her up. Jaheira shot her a doubtful look, but assisted her nonetheless. Her injuries made standing a monumental task, all the cuts, bruises and burns from earlier making themselves known with every move she made, causing her to hiss as both of them put her back on her feet. The pain was bracing in a twisted sort of way. It reminded her that despite everything, she was still alive. Yoshimo stepped closer, ready to offer his shoulder to lean on, until Jaheira batted him away. It seemed he hadn't quite won the cautious druid over quite yet, though he didn't seem offended by it.

And so, Elene slowly put one foot in front of the other, with Jaheira at her side as support. As they left the smoking crater they'd stumbled into from the tunnel, it fully dawned on her the scale of the destruction wrought by the masked man, rubble and rock and ruined bodies littering the surrounding battle zone. More hooded men lay among the dead, similar to the ones in the dungeon. They had struck first, she remembered, infiltrating the tunnels with blades, leaving a trail of dead duergar and mephits behind them. Imoen said she got out after one of the hooded men fell within arm's length of her cage, allowing her to spring the lock to her cage with his lockpicks. Whoever they were, they'd died by the dozens in the end.

Men and women stared as they cleared the rubble. Unsurprisingly, the bystanders gave them a wide berth. Elene recognised she was covered in blood and dirt after their mad dash for freedom, though at least she'd managed to clean herself of the filth accumulated from her imprisonment. Jaheira was only slightly better off. Hardly the great Heroes of Baldur's Gate from a month ago. She still couldn't process that they had been in that hole for more than a month, though Yoshimo swore up and down that he'd gotten the date right.

"This way," Yoshimo gestured as he led.

They cleared an impressive amphitheatre with tiers of stalls and stores going up to five floors. The area was more or less deserted except for curious onlookers, the merchants having long cleared out for fear of the disturbance spilling over to their section. White buildings, with red and gold canvas adding colour to the place. Must have been a lively marketplace indeed.

"Waukeen's Promenade is in the centre district of Athkatla," Jaheira explained, upon noticing her bleary eyes scanning their surroundings. "The biggest trade centre in this region."

Beyond the bazaar and the great promenade just beyond it, the streets began to narrow. Well-made buildings began to phase out, houses becoming stacked closer together, the overall look of the streets becoming more and more dilapidated the further into the city they went. Familiar, just like the eastern part of Baldur's Gate, though the heat of Athkatla meant the buildings were more wood than stone, with great emphasis on heat management. The smell was something else, though. Hot weather really magnified the rotten ambiance of the slums.

Then Yoshimo came to a halt. Elene raised her eyes at the rickety structure before them, a wide, two-storey building with more dilapidated structures built on top of it. Shouts and laughter petered out from door as it opened to let a group of hardened adventurers out, her small group giving the men a wide berth as they moved past. Then her eyes caught a faded sign hung onto a wooden board by the door.

The Copper Coronet.

She felt Jaheira take a deep breath next to her. Yet nothing was said, and the three of them headed inside.

The Copper Coronet was…smoky, for a start. A grill was set up in the middle of the long, rectangular common room, where various meats were being smoked and roasted. Bodies thronged near the bar, men and women chatting each other up in close proximity. The lighting was dim, purposely so, meant to better conceal the faces of the people frequenting the place, no doubt. Tables were packed close together, with patrons huddling over metal tankards. Some of them looked up as the trio entered, though they quickly lost interest once they detected minimal threat from them. Swallowing, Elene straightened, ignoring the pain in her torso as she did. It wouldn't do to appear weak in this place.

Yoshimo surveyed the room with a practiced eye, then turned to Elene and Jaheira. "I'll get rooms. You can ah, maybe pick a table."

Off he went in the direction of the bar, where a rotund barkeeper was chatting up a storm with what seemed to be regular customers. Jaheira nudged Elene to a corner table, and Elene shuffled over obediently with her hand tightly clutching the small gold pouch at her belt. Better safe than sorry. Though in the end, no one paid them any mind. They looked too bedraggled to be worth much anyway.

Once she settled in her seat, she quickly lost track of her surroundings. Her eyes fixed on a particularly deep gouge on the grimy tabletop as she focused all her remaining energy on not thinking. When Yoshimo returned, a room key was slid across to her. Jaheira took one look at her glazed over expression, then claimed it in her stead. Words were exchanged between her two companions, important discussion on coin, supplies, potential allies to be found. And of course, the tiptoeing. Yoshimo was trying to find out as much about them as Jaheira wanted to know about him. Jaheira, usually the voice of reason in her group, grew increasingly agitated with each sidestepping joke or remark offered by Yoshimo.

She wondered how long they could keep up this dance. And how Yoshimo would respond if he truly knew who he travelled with.

"I would like to retire," Elene announced abruptly.

"Already? It's just a few hours past Highsun," Yoshimo raised an eyebrow. "At least eat something, my friend. You look like a light breeze would blow you over."

Elene stood, then tilted her head politely. "I will see you tomorrow at breakfast."

Without another word, she departed his company, pushing past chairs pushed close together, much to the annoyance of some of the patrons nearby. She heard another chair scraping against the floor, and as expected, Jaheira was at her back like a fortifying shadow. The throbbing in her head lessened somewhat as she reached the first floor of the rooms, the noise from the common room receding like a distant memory. Jaheira gave her a concerned look before unlocking their shared room, where they retreated to lick their wounds.

To call the room threadbare would be an understatement. The floorboards had gaps in them, the wooden furniture looked rough and rickety, while the sheets seemed to be made of the type of starched cloth bound to become itchy after a while. Elene looked around with a slow exhale. At least…she will be sleeping in a proper bed that night. She dropped the satchel with her meagre possessions and began to unstrap her sword belt. Soon, her armour fell to the floor with the rest of her things, leaving her nothing but the rough spun tunic which served as her prisoner's garb throughout her time in that hole.

"Your burns will need to be looked at again." Jaheira told her as she released her wheat-coloured hair from their braiding. "I need to replenish my spells."

Elene nodded absently, studying her left hand. A red mark ran across her palm, where jagged rock had gouged her skin as escaped the tunnel. It was filthy, covered in dirt. Frowning, she hovered her other hand over the wound, the words of a cleaning cantrip just at the tip of her tongue.

But Jaheira was faster. The other woman snatched her casting hand away, her eyes wide with alarm.

"What are you doing? Do you want to end up like Imoen?"

Flinching, Elene shrank back. "I…but it's just a cantrip."

"We don't know how good they are at detecting such things," Jaheira snapped back before releasing her hand. She didn't need to elaborate who they were. "Resist the urge to use magic, no matter how minor. At least until we fully understand how the rules work in this place."

Silence reined for a while as Elene dropped her gaze to the floor, chastened. Jaheira went back to unpacking her effects. After some hesitation, Elene went for the pitcher on the room's sole table and poured it into a large bowl provided by the proprietor. Then set about the task of cleaning her hand. The water turned brown, then reddish as her blood washed off along with the dirt. She wished other things could be washed clean just as easily.

"I will arrange for a bath. Here's hoping this place has that, at least," said Jaheira. Then she was gone.

Elene wiped her hands with a loose tablecloth, then wound it around the damaged hand to staunch the bleeding. The chair by the window creaked as she sat, gazing out the dusty window. The sun still shone bright, the streets filled with men and women in drab clothing going about their errands. Further away at the end of the street, a group of children gathered in a circle laughing and shouting as they played. Multicoloured apparels waved lazily on a clothesline atop a tall building even further in the distance, a sign that the wind had picked up since they headed indoors. Even so, her eyes caught the tell-tale shimmer of heat reflecting off buildings. It could almost be possible to cook an egg on some of the roofs, especially those made of cheap tin rather than properly shingled with red clay.

Eventually, she ran out of observations to catalogue. With nothing left to her but her own thoughts, her fingers brushed over her bare collar. She thought of Khalid, his warm brown eyes as he tucked her hair behind her ear, a father figure she'd never looked for but was blessed to have. Of Imoen, the torment in her eyes as she recalled what had been done to her. Then her mind remembered the weeks she herself lay screaming, screaming until everything came out raw on the cold floor as fire or lightning scored her flesh, only for her to be made new once more to go through the same ordeal again. Over and over.

Yet as the painful reminders coalesced like a festering lump in her chest, her throat began to close on itself at the reminder of what used to rest against her collar, that elegant necklace woven with magic from another's hands. The same hands which once held her, comforted her in the darkest hours. A prized gift, the only thing she had left to remember Xan by. Brilliant, beautiful Xan. And the masked man had taken that away from her, too, confiscating even treasured memories from her grasp.

Covering her face, Elene began to weep.

.

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Author's note:

I admit to installing a mod to skip the starting dungeon after going through it the first three times. So, I thought I'd spare you the rehashing of that, too. ;)