4 – Hunters
"A hunting cat will only strike from behind, so never show it your back. Show the enemy your back and you've crossed the line between a battle and a hunt." – Nina Whitesun, Memoir of a Warbitch
"The bloodstains?" the blacksmith inquired. He was a tall, broad man with a boyish face and a tangled mop of sandy-blonde hair.
Ashura made a face. "Well, we picked these leathers off some bandits on the north road," she began, her eyes on the pile of mostly intact leather armor she had dropped on the floor.
"Oh," Thunderhammer replied. "Good riddance then. Those bastards have been blocking our shipments for a good two tendays now. Seems like there's an army of bandits out there."
"A few less now at least," Ashura said with a slight smile.
"True. In case you didn't know there's a guard captain in town who's paying a bounty for bandit scalps. If you decide to kill any more that is."
"Good to know." She wondered how anyone could tell that a severed scalp came from a bandit, but decided not to ask.
Convincing the smithy's owner to buy the bandits' armor and weapons was easier than Ashura had thought. Haggling over the price turned out to be more of a pain. Thunderhammer insisted that since steel weapons in the region were crumbling left and right the swords were next to worthless. This went against everything Ashura had read about the law of supply and demand and when she told him that he brushed her off and said that in a real market no one cares about "the laws of hoozy-wut's-its." In the end he did reluctantly go up a bit on the price.
When all the coin was tallied they had more than enough to pay the smiths to mend Ashura's damaged leathers and purchase a chainmail shirt. With a little work one of the armorers found a way to comfortably fit the shirt over the studded leather tunic.
They offered to purchase sturdier armor for Imoen too but she shook her head and said she was fine with her black leathers. "It's comfy enough to move in," she said. "Don't want anything heavier."
Ashura eyed a display case full of fine enchanted weapons, but even the cheapest magical short-sword was well beyond what they could afford. She settled for selling her misshapen goblin weapon and purchasing two new swords. Thunderhammer gave a preemptive apology for the quality of the metal. "Just about everything 'tween the Cloudpeaks and Baldur's Gate now comes from that blasted mine in Nashkel," he said. "I wish I could get shipments from somewhere else, but those damned bandits…"
Very reassuring.
At least Ashura left Thunderhammer's with fresh coin in her pouch and arms at her hip. She had also enjoyed a long hot bath the night before and slept soundly.
The war-party met up outside the Jovial Juggler half a bell later and set out along the southern road. The packed dirt and gravel that comprised the town's streets was soon replaced by raised cobblestones. Once again they were walking one of the ancient highways built by the Shoon Imperium during one wave of conquest or another and maintained by countless kingdoms and baronies since.
For a time the road ran straight, passing through flowering meadows and light stands of trees and brush. The party began to relax as they marched under the warm Mirtul sun. Birdsong rang from every tree, occasionally broken by the scream of an eagle high overhead. Meadows became rolling hills, the trees grew taller, and the road began to wind.
A little over an hour into their journey the group turned a bend in the path and came to a sudden halt. A large portion of the cobblestones ahead were smeared with blood. Black and red and freshly pooled. Whatever had died lay between two bulky figures that knelt in the middle of the road. Besides a little cloth tied at their loins the figures were naked, inhumanly muscular, and as they rose and turned it became clear that they were male. Blood covered their arms to the elbow and caked their wide bestial faces; noses flat and piggish, the hint of tusks at their lips.
One of the creatures held something up in his hand: a pale, severed arm from something human or humanoid. He seemed to leer at Ashura and Khalid as he held the arm above his mouth and let the blood flow to his lips.
Standing straight both creatures were nearly seven feet tall. Lesser ogres, Ashura realized, remembering a picture she had seen in an old bestiary. Sometimes called ogrillons. While the leering creature gulped down the blood the other let out an ear-splitting howl and charged, bare feet stomping on the stones. He was unarmed but fearless, his broad arms taking the lead, open hands shooting towards Ashura, ready to grip and pull and crush.
As her swords left their sheaths Ashura dashed forward to meet the creature. She ducked at the last moment and slid under the grasping hands, drawing her sword across the ogrillon's belly. His guts came spilling out as she passed, and in a sudden panic the beast tried to catch the slick ropes of intestine and push them back in.
Khalid finished the creature off with a quick slash to the neck as Ashura reached the second ogrillon. She slashed out but he managed to bat her swords away with the severed arm. He pivoted as he wielded the arm like a club and punched with his free hand. Ashura had been trying to bring her second sword up and stab at the ogrillon's armpit but the punch to her jaw threw her off. Her sword just grazed the beast as she fell backwards and hit the cobblestones.
Luckily Khalid was there before the ogre could deliver another blow and the tip of his sword struck true, going under the creature's ribcage and right to its heart. The beast howled in agony for a moment before slumping against Khalid, who nearly fell over from the weight.
Ashura launched herself back up and glanced around but there seemed to have been nothing beyond the pair of lesser ogres. It was over.
As she rubbed her aching jaw Ashura watched the others examine the area. Judging from the proportions of what was left of him the ogrillon's victim seemed to be a halfling man. A sack that lay on the stones beside his lower half was full of rolled up letters sealed by wax and marked "Beregost." Apparently the poor fellow was a courier. Having no desire to trek several miles back up the road to deliver mail they left the bag where they found it and continued south.
Khalid kept pace with Ashura at the head of their little formation, and after a time Ashura broke the silence. "How come your sword never breaks?" she asked.
"It's m-magical," he explained. "A m-minor enchantment but it helps."
"Hope I can find myself a magic weapon one of these days," Ashura said. They fell into silence for a quarter mile or so.
"You s-sure charge in head first," Khalid noted, making conversation.
"'In battle always be in motion and let your momentum carry you through to the end,'" Ashura recited. "'To stop is to become a target. To hesitate is to die.'"
Khalid gave her a blank look.
"That's from the Manual on the Art of Combat by Davo Abraxus. It's an old Chondathan book. Has some good fencing techniques mixed in with the philosophy."
"D-did you truly learn to fight f-from books?" Khalid asked.
Ashura shook her head slightly. "I sparred with the guards in Candlekeep every chance I got. Combat manuals are great but you can't get the reflexes and calluses you need for real combat without practicing with someone. That's something they stress in a lot of the manuals, in fact."
Khalid chuckled. "Fair enough, b-but you might want to start wearing a h-helmet," he said, tapping his own. "For the n-next time you charge into an ogre's fist."
"That might be a good idea," Ashura admitted.
As the day progressed the path grew more and more winding and the companions found themselves walking around wide hills and boulders. When the morning air cleared the Cloudpeak Mountains came into sight, still far to the south. Nashkel was somewhere at the mountains' feet, in a fertile vale above the foothills. It would be two or three days journey to get up there by Jaheira's estimation.
They took each bend in the path with caution, hands resting on their weapons as their eyes constantly scanned the trees and hills. Their caution was rewarded when they stepped around a moss-topped boulder and found themselves a few paces from a pair of lightly armored creatures with bat-like features and orange skin.
Hobgoblins.
The man-sized goblins shot to their feet, scattering bone fragments from some game they had been playing. One of the hobgoblins brought his hand to his lips and gave a loud whistle while the other hefted a sword and shield.
Side by side Ashura and Khalid drew their weapons and charged. With a metallic clang Khalid bashed his shield against the lead hobgoblin's. The blow sent the creature stumbling back a step and Ashura sped up, dancing around the reeling goblin as she tried to flank him.
The hobgoblin slashed at her while he blocked a blow from Khalid with his shield but Ashura managed to avoid the clumsy attack and close the distance. Her sword easily stabbed through the creature's crude leather armor and sank deep into his back.
Raising her offhand weapon in time Ashura managed to block a sword-blow from the second goblin and slide her weapon along his in a riposte that sent him hopping back. She yanked her main sword free and whirled to engage the second hobgoblin fully but before she could attack again one of Imoen's arrows whistled by and sank into her opponent's neck. The goblin grasped at the offending arrow, letting out a frantic croak before Ashura finished him off with a stab to the chest.
Ahead at the tree line branches were cracking and leaves were crunching. A breath later more hobgoblins broke through the trees, swords at the ready and backed by bowmen. There were at least eight of them, a full war-party. The first two had merely been a picket.
The bat-faced creatures formed up three by two, shoulder to shoulder in an abbreviated military formation. Their shields locked as the two bowmen knocked arrows. Each wore metal spikes that resembled horns on their helmets and uniform boiled-leather armor.
Over the grunts of the beast-men and the stomping of their boots came Xzar's melodic voice. He sang in a strange tongue, his voice carrying high and far. There was a crackle on the cobblestones in the center of the hobgoblin unit as wispy tendrils of golden energy slithered up and out, wrapping around the legs of each creature before abruptly vanishing.
A collective shiver seemed to run through everything before Ashura's eyes. The military discipline of the hobgoblin unit wavered as the beast-men glanced around nervously, then shattered as they began to panic. Some screamed and chopped at the air. Others shook uncontrollably and dropped to their knees, hiding their faces and cowering. A few simply tossed their weapons to the earth, turned around and ran.
Montaron zipped past Ashura's legs. "Come on you fools," he shouted without turning. "We've gotta' take advantage before the spell wears off."
Ashura nodded and rushed in beside Montaron. The halfling found a kneeling hobgoblin and grabbed him by a horn, yanking his head back and stabbing him through the throat. As the goblin coughed its last Ashura caught up with a fleeing creature and snatched him by the shoulder as she ran him through from behind, then turned and used her second sword to gut a cowering hobgoblin nearby.
By then Jaheira had joined them. She snatched the helmet off one of the cowering creature's heads and as he stuttered out a terrified plea for mercy she brought her club down, braining him in a few strokes. She waded over to another kneeling hobgoblin, bent down and in a lightning-quick motion gripped his chin and helmet and twisted hard. With a sickening crack the creature's neck broke.
There was a hobgoblin crawling blindly away from the slaughter, roughly between Imoen and Ashura. Imoen had an arrow knocked and trained on him, but she hesitated. Ashura looked at her friend questioningly and Imoen gave her an uncertain, pained look. Ashura shrugged and began stalking towards the hobgoblin but before she reached it the arrow flew. The creature's head snapped back as the arrow sank into his right eye. Two heartbeats later the hobgoblin's head pitched forward and he shuddered for a moment before growing still.
No more hobgoblins were moving.
Khalid stood away from the slaughter, a distasteful look on his face. Xzar stood behind, arms crossed and wearing a satisfied grin.
By their estimate at least two of the hobgoblins had fled into the woods. Not knowing if there were more of the creatures out there the party quickly decided to file up and continue marching down the road, weapons at the ready and still dripping with blood.
Ashura gave the slaughter one backward glance as they marched. It was said that even the most novice priests could cast a long lasting spell that would protect from magical fear. Right now she wished for some of that sort of protection regularly. What a horrible way to go: cowering and helpless and trapped by an emotion forced on you by someone else. At least she knew Xzar would never throw such a spell at her.
An hour passed with no sign of ambush, goblin or otherwise. Then another. By then the weapons were clean and back in their sheaths, but the group kept alert. The day passed from there without incident, and as the sun began to disappear behind the hills they started searching for a suitable campsite.
They settled on a large boulder a little off from the road. It was smooth and round with a high enough lip to provide a bit of shelter from rain and wind. There was a stream through the trees nearby where they refilled their waterskins and washed their faces before searching for dry rocks and wood for a firepit. Montaron had disappeared when they began to build the campsite, but as the first embers began to glow and the shadows lengthened he reappeared carrying the bodies of two squirrels. He showed Ashura how to skin and clean them and soon they had the rodents skewered and roasting over the flames.
The meat was a bit tough but it made for a better eveningfeast than the dried nuts and grains they carried. "Hobgoblins and ogres all in one day," Imoen murmured as she stared into the flames.
"Wild places are always full of wild things," Jaheira said. "It is the way of the world."
"Bah," Montaron muttered. "Least it was the little kind of ogre. Big ones'r far nastier. You'd think with all the bulk they'd be slow 'n lumbering but they can move fast when they wanna."
"That's a pleasant thought," Imoen said.
"Just bein' an optimist," Montaron said with a shrug. "As long as the ogres stay pint-sized and the goblins don't get bigger than a hob everything's peachy. Could be a lot worse. The goblins could have been bugbears. Big, nasty cousins of the hob."
"Please don't give the gods any ideas," Imoen protested.
"Or it could have been trolls. Or fire-newts. Or-"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Imoen covered her ears, giggling a little.
Once they finished their meals Ashura was given first watch, instructed by Jaheira to wake her when the moon reached the edge of The Horn constellation. Ashura nodded, putting away the stone she had been using to sharpen her blades and finding a suitable place to stand guard as the rest settled in for the night.
The next day on the road was uneventful, if a bit tense. The path continually wound up and up into the foothills, and they turned each bend ready for battle, only to be met with the sound of birdsong and rustling trees. Always the Cloudpeaks loomed over them. White and gray wisps clung to their slopes, thick in the morning and dissipating as the day progressed, no doubt where the mountains' namesake came from.
When the path grew straighter for a time Ashura let Khalid take the lead and drifted back a few paces, marching beside Jaheira. "You never told me how you and Khalid met Gorion," Ashura said.
"No I did not," Jaheira stated plainly.
Ashura let out a groan and was surprised to hear a hearty chuckle from Jaheira. A moment later the half-elven woman began to tell the story of a time when she and Khalid had been "brazen youths" on a mission to shut down a ring of slavers based out of Iriaebor. The pair had discovered that a corrupt noble named Ployer was using his lands and roads to smuggle slave caravans bound for Westgate, where the humanoid cargo could be shipped anywhere across the Sea of Fallen Stars.
"Exposing Baron Ployer to the authorities was easy enough," Jaheira said "but we soon found out that the person behind the slavers in the region was a powerful Thayvian mage. She abducted and interrogated several locals who had helped us uncover the slaver ring. We tracked them and found her base of operations but rescuing them was too much for Khalid and I.
"So we sent a message asking for reinforcements and thankfully Gorion was in the area. He had grey hair even back then, and he was an experienced mage. So he took the lead on our little assault on the Red Wizard's layer." She chuckled. "We stood by, helpless, as he engaged the Red Mage herself in a wizard's duel. Quite a sight to behold."
"How does that work exactly?" Ashura asked.
"It can go many ways depending on the spells the mages favor. But usually both mages throw up an onion of magical defenses and illusions, then work to peel away the enemy's defenses first. It's all rather colorful. Mages tend to be frail under all that magic though. Once Gorion had dispelled the Red Mage's protections he killed her with a single spell."
"Hm," Ashura mused. "Hard to think someone like that could be cut down by one guy in spiky armor."
"Yes." Jaheira frowned. "Perhaps the man who killed Gorion was some sort of trained wizard-slayer, capable of shrugging off spells and cutting through magical protections with his sword. I have heard of such things."
"Huh," Ashura said, pondering. "I didn't have the best vantage, but father's magic didn't seem to have much of an effect on the guy." She was silent for a moment. "Well, I doubt he'll be able to shrug off a sword through the eye."
Jaheira shook her head slightly. "I understand wanting revenge, for I want it as well, but please be cautious child. This is obviously a dangerous man. Charging him the way you charge hobgoblins will just get you skewered on his sword."
"Pfft. I'm getting the 'reckless youth' speech?"
"Yes. I should know, I was a reckless youth once, and thankfully Gorion took me under his wing after our battle with the slavers. I suspect he was thinking of retiring at the time, and felt obliged to pass down some of the wisdom he had acquired to the young. Over the next couple of years we went on several missions together. The last one…" She paused, her frown deepening.
Ashura gave her an inquisitive look.
After a time the druidess responded with a shrug. "The last mission was an assault on a temple of Bhaal. Grim business that. They were sacrificing children."
It felt like there was more to the story but Jaheira was silent. After a time Ashura asked: "Bhaal? So this was before the Time of Troubles?"
"Shortly before, yes," Jaheira replied. She was not forthcoming with anything more. Ashura thought about asking who had sent them on all of these "missions" but was certain that was as off-limits as the story of what happened in the temple. Maybe Jaheira would open up with time. For now they just walked on in silence.
After long days of climbing the steep road the group was happy when they crested a hill and came upon the vale. Open fields and meadows lay before them now, forest clinging to the hills at the edge. Here and there among the fields they saw simple hovels and outbuildings.
The town of Nashkel had a very different character than Beregost. Instead of a tight cluster of tall, sturdy buildings the town seemed to be haphazardly strewn across the open fields. Farms, cottages and little homesteads dotted the landscape along dirt paths that spanned out from the Tradeway. The one place where buildings stood in any sort of order was a stretch of the highway that began at a well kept stone bridge crossing a small river. A tall stone temple stood over the rest of the village, with a steeped roof, four minarets and a massive symbol depicting the gauntlet-and-eye of Helm above the double doors.
The street was crowded with laborers pushing handcarts and loading wagons, as well as a number of soldiers that stood at post in front of each building or marched in small formations along the street or the dusty side roads. They were armored in scalemail and wore the distinct, high domed helmets of Amnish troops that glinted in the setting sun.
As the party approached the bridge one of the patrols broke off and marched towards them. Jaheira tilted her head towards Ashura and Imoen. "As you can see this town is heavily garrisoned," she stated. "It may not appear so but this is a place of great strategic importance. It is the gateway through the Cloudpeaks between Amn and the north."
A dour Amnish soldier with an elaborate beard and a scar on his cheek stepped forward out of the ranks of the patrol. "Identify yourselves," he barked.
Xzar and Jaheira stepped forward simultaneously. They glanced at each other before Xzar deferred to the half-elf with a little bow. "We are here to investigate the troubles in your mine," Jaheira said. "Mayor Ghastkill is expecting us."
"Hm," the soldier huffed and shook his head. "Expecting these little girls, you spindly elflings, that fop or that half-man to do what contingents of Amnish soldiers can't? Nothing stupider than a call for 'adventurers' if you ask me. But the Mayor did put out the call so I 'spose you can take it up with him."
Jaheira gave a curt bow. "I thank you then."
"If you ask me the problem with the iron is a curse from the gods," the soldier continued. "Just got to figure out the right god and appease 'em."
"We didn't ask you," Montaron snarled.
The soldier shrugged slightly. "Just trying to help. You're not the first adventurer types to come investigating. Near a tenday back there were two elves. Real serious types, said they came from Everska to solve the iron problem. One of 'em even had a moonblade. They went down into the mine and we haven't heard from them since."
"Just tell us where Barrun is," Jaheira demanded.
The soldier pointed down the road with his thumb. "This time o'day he's likely in the temple. Probably praying to the wrong god, like I said."
"Thank you then." At that Jaheira began to march down the street and the group fell in behind her.
The mayor was leaving the temple as they approached; flanked by several well dressed men. He was a lean, strong looking youth with the deep tan of an outdoorsman. He waved at the group as soon as he saw them and swiftly approached.
"Ah, the adventuring type," he said by way of greeting. "Would recognize them anywhere. You must be Khalid and Jaheira," he inclined his head. "And Xzar right? Glad you've decided to team up. Whatever is down there in the mines…well."
"We were told of the elves that went searching before us," Jaheira stated. "And we have not 'teamed up' as you say. We were simply traveling together."
"That's about the same thing," Montaron said with a shrug.
"Do as you wish," Barrun said, "The mine is a few miles to the southeast. I can send a soldier to guide you."
Imoen spoke up: "One of your soldiers seemed to think the problem with the iron was a curse from the gods and there's nothing we can do."
Barrun chuckled. "There's a lot of talk like that. Trust me, whatever's plaguing the mine is more substantial than a curse. We've lost a lot of miners recently, and even a few guards. Dead or disappeared."
"How were these men killed?" Jaheira asked.
"The bodies we found had arrows or arrow wounds. Most likely culprit would be a tribe of goblins, but whatever they are they've been damn illusive."
"Then before we launch a goblin hunt it would be most wise to rest up," Xzar interjected. "Maybe purchase some goblin hunting equipment." He frowned. "No idea what that is."
The mayor nodded. "I understand. This is an urgent matter though. Hope you can get on it as soon as possible."
"Tomorrow," Jaheira stated firmly.
"Good. Well, the inn is back up the road by the river. With the roads backed up it's pretty full, but there's no shortage of farmers renting out barns and haylofts. The general store's next to the inn. The big building."
They backtracked and after a visit to the shops they found the inn easily enough. In addition to being the only inn in town the place was a single story tall and a bit drab. The floor and ceiling were rough-cut and worn, the walls bare and painted a simple white. No Jovial Jugglar, certainly. Farmers and off duty soldiers leaned against a long bar and the tables were mostly full.
Thankfully there were two rooms left, small and sparse with a single bed each. After placing their packs in the rooms and locking the doors the group made their way back to the taproom and settled in at a large round table. Most of the group let out a collective sigh as they finally rested their feet. It had been a long journey, hobgoblins and ogres and deep woods and all.
After a meal and a few rounds of bitter black ale even Jaheira was relaxing a little, though she went back to her usual glares when Imoen tried to get her to join in on a bawdy drinking song. To Ashura's surprise Khalid did know the words, his stutter gone as he closed his eyes and sang. Xzar joined in on the next song, but he seemed to be making up his own lyrics. Something about dragons and rabbits. Imoen pitched her voice louder, trying to drown him out.
By then farmers at nearby tables had started singing as well, swaying to the rhythm and tapping on the tabletops. Then somewhere around the third chorus the song began to die away and a hush fell over the room. Ashura followed the eyes of the rest of the crowd to the back of the inn.
An armored woman had sauntered into the common room. A crested steel helmet sat on her head, a few strands of honey-blonde hair spilling out, and her splintmail armor clinked lightly in the silence. A brown grasping bear's claw was painted across the interlocking plates at her chest. It was the symbol of the Beastlord, marking her as a huntress of Malar. A green cloak hung from her shoulders and her feet were clad in fine fur boots.
The eyes of the huntress focused directly on Ashura as she strolled into the room. The woman gave the group a haughty smile. "Aw, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your song," she cooed.
"What are-" Jaheira began but was cut short as the huntress whipped her left hand out from under her cloak and barked out something in a strange, guttural language. Translucent green vines burst from the floor and the very air; ghostly looking but solid enough to wrap around the waists and wrists and ankles of everyone at the table save Ashura. Chair legs screeched against the floor as they twisted and struggled with the ethereal force.
Ashura shot to her feet and drew her swords. She vaulted onto the table, raising her weapons to strike down at the huntress. As she did the other woman waved her right hand and with a crackle a hammer made of blue energy appeared in her fist. Before Ashura could strike the huntress turned and swung the hammer into her gut, bending her forward. As Ashura bent she felt the hammer slide away and then fly up, striking her in the face and sending her flying. A wave of pain went through her body as she hit the rough wooden floor.
Jaheira was shouting. "You think these vines can hold a servant of Sylvanis?" she bellowed. Fighting a sharp ache in her stomach Ashur managed to sit up then try to wobble to her feet. As she did she saw the ethereal vines that gripped Jaheira snap and vanish.
As the druidess stood and drew her war club the huntress waved her free hand and shouted something that was less a word and more a bestial grunt. A corona of golden energy flashed around Jaheira and she stood still, muscles obviously straining against the magic. "I've more than one way to hold you, bitch," the huntress snarled.
Ashura shifted to a dueling stance, feet dancing. She cringed as her body protested and her nose stung. Blood was dripping down onto her upper lip.
The huntress shook her head. "No, no, no," she said. "You are my prey tonight. And I will have my hunt. No fighting. You must flee."
The last word hit Ashura like something solid and she found her body acting all on its own. She pivoted and faced the door, and then her legs were moving, sprinting across the room. The door swung open and she found herself fleeing across the road and into the night.
She was a prisoner in her own body, the struggles of her mind unfelt by her pumping legs and arms as she ran. Mud sucked at Ashura's boots as she reached the bank of the river and then stomped forward into the water. Now she was wading, each step nightmare-slow. The water came up to her waist then grew lower as she climbed the opposite bank. No way to know where the huntress was; her head simply would not obey the order to turn and look.
Up the bank Ashura went, panting and climbing into a meadow of tall grass. Somewhere behind she could hear the clink of the huntress' armor. She ran through the grass, the field lit clearly by the full moon. Clink. Clink. The sound of the armor. Getting closer.
Now she could hear the crackle of that blasted magic hammer cutting through the air. Somewhere behind. Somewhere close. The blow would come any moment now. Solid and final, to the back of her head.
No!
Rage welled up, a primal scream struggling with the paralysis of her muscles. Spasms wracked her limbs. Her body shook, then she whirled, swords slicing through air as she fell into a crouch.
Relief! She could move.
The huntress was right there, hammer high in the air and ready to smash something. Ashura managed to cross her swords and catch the weapon's handle on them as the huntress swung down. She couldn't stop the hammer but she redirected it to the right and sent it smashing into the dirt instead of her skull. At the same time Ashura lashed out with her left-hand sword.
The blade dented a few plates at the woman's torso but did little else. Both combatants hopped back a few steps, regrouping. The huntress's teeth gleamed in the ghostly light cast by her hammer. "You do the job of the prey poorly," she noted through her grin. As she spoke her free hand glowed, a ball of golden energy forming at her palm. "If you will not be run down then you will be trapped." Her hand shot forward.
Ashura's response was an inhuman howl of rage as she charged. She felt the golden tendrils of the spell shoot from the woman's hand. They searched her mind and body for purchase. She gave them none. There was only fury. There was only forward.
The eyes of the huntress went wide with shock. She raised her hammer to block but Ashura's slash pushed the weapon aside. Ashura's right-hand sword stabbed at her opponent's armpit and sunk deep into flesh were no armor protected. She dropped her left sword and gripped her opponent's wrist, holding the hammer away as they grappled.
A spasm ran through the huntress's body and her legs buckled. Ashura yanked the sword free and the other woman sank to her knees. The hammer crackled and disappeared as the huntress involuntarily let it go. Her face was clinched in pain.
Another war cry came from Ashura's lips as she pivoted and brought her sword back. She swung with all her strength and the huntress's head flew into the air, twin geysers of blood briefly pumping from the stump of her neck before her body slumped to the grass.
Her fury spent, Ashura dropped to her knees. She panted and doubled over. An assassin at every stop so far. She was really starting to hate inns.
Her companions found her there a few moments later. Imoen rushed to her first, wrapping her arms around Ashura's shoulders. "Oh Shura!" Imoen squealed. "I thought…I was so worried…"
Jaheira managed to peel Imoen away and examine Ashura's injuries. The warm and familiar glow of healing magic mended Ashura's bent and bleeding nose and the blow to her abdomen hadn't broken any ribs. A search of the body led them to believe that the crested helmet was enchanted in some way, but the huntress had little else of value on her. And of course she carried another bounty notice. The price on Ashura's head was still three-hundred-and-fifty gold.
Ashura was worried that the innkeep would throw them out, but he was actually apologetic, telling them that he had suspected the Malarite would be trouble. There was a hot bath waiting in a large wooden tub when they got to their room, and Ashura was grateful to wash the blood off when her turn came around.