Out Of The Shadows
Chapter One:
The Birdcage
There was a moment in which Imoen wasn't sure if she was waking up or dreaming. It was looking through the lens of some ocular device that you had to twist and move back and forth to bring things into focus; she was sure a Gnome had probably invented something like that. In fact, hadn't she seen it in the Hall of Wonders... or had she dreamt all that? She at least knew what a Gnome was, although specific examples were a little less forthcoming. There was... Alora? Or was she just a really short human... or something else? The only thing really clear in her head right now was the fact that it hurt, which meant she couldn't be dreaming, right? She couldn't recall ever having a dream in which she had a headache. Of course, she couldn't recall much of anything.
Okay... enough! She pinched herself and jerked suddenly, hitting her head against something cold and made of steel. Some people thought a bang on the head actually cured a headache. It didn't. But at least things were a bit clearer now. There was no need for her to get up since she was already sat up on her butt with her legs bent in front of her. She was in a tiny round cage with a round top, like a birdcage with black metal bars. They looked black anyway; there was so little light in this place and a lot less colour. She couldn't see much beyond the bars, but she could hear dripping and a horrible rotting smell, rather like that of the sewers beneath Baldur's Gate.
Was that where she was? Last thing she remembered was being in the woods drinking and then passing out, but not before she thought she'd seen some shadowy figures all around her. She'd never passed out from drinking before, but then she rarely drank much anyway. She'd grown up running the Inn with Winthrop and even though he watered down everything she'd learnt that drunks were not always the funny, harmless people often portrayed in books and plays. She remembered one time a man tried to attack a horse because he thought it had been telling people things about him and his ex-wife. But now wasn't really the time for such digressions; she had to think.
Her first thought, naturally, was to try to find a way out. The pounding in her skull didn't make that easy, continually conspiring to break her concentration. But, after examining it for a minute, she concluded that she could pick the lock, but that was conditional on her having something to pick it with, which she didn't. The cage could perhaps be forced open, but that was conditional on having physical strength greater than that of a dozen mice. She was damn hungry too... hungry and stuck here with only her thoughts for company. So if she didn't die of starvation, she'd die of loneliness. What a great day she was having. Assuming it was day... some bits were still fuzzy. She didn't know how long she'd been a prisoner...
"So," Imoen felt a chill when she heard that voice; she wasn't sure why but she knew her day was about to get a whole lot better. "The child of Bhaal has awoken." Imoen squinted, and could just about make out the white skin of a cold, expressionless face.
"Wha... w-who?" The redhead found her throat very dry.
"Your memories of the last few days will return... probably," Imoen couldn't see what the man was doing, but she could hear creaking leather. "But for now, it is time for some more experiments..."
A narrow beam of white light descended on her from above. It didn't seem to do much; Imoen held up her palm and like a child who had found a butterfly watched curiously the little white dot move about on her hand. But then she started to remember...
"No..." she uttered breathlessly, and then suddenly turned to her captor, eyes pleading. "N-no... please!"
A gear shifted, and a second wider beam crashed down. Imoen felt a wave of searing pain in every part of her body... crushing, burning, drowning... as if it whatever it was that her feel was being activated all at once, making her feel everything. So great was it that she couldn't cry out or scream, much as she wanted too. She was overwhelmed instantly while that blank face behind the controls just watched and made notes.
Of course, although the daughter of Bhaal found it hard to believe sometimes, life elsewhere still went on. Outside of the place she was trapped, it was a beautiful sunny morning. Skies were blue with not a cloud in sight, and the birds were singing... sort of. Not many birds in a city actually sang; most of them just cooed. Technically, no birds ever sang; they were just making sounds to attract a mate or tell the rest of the flock were food was or if any hungry looking cats were hanging around... but, negative culpability and all that. It didn't matter what the sounds really were; what mattered was how they made us feel. At least in one case, at this moment in time, that feeling was mild annoyance.
A fat pigeon landed on what seemed to it a perfectly good perch; a large wooden frame with canvas spread over it, and began to prune. Just behind it, a head slowly popped up from beneath the wing the bird was sitting on. The head had long blonde hair, wide blue eyes and pointy ears.
"Um... sh-shoo?" The elven girl said weakly, accompanying it with a feeble hand gesture. The pigeon turned and tilted it's head.
"Coo?" It said.
"No... shoo. I...I- I'm trying to fix this thing. You need to get off," the elven girl, Aerie was her name, was like few other elves you were likely to encounter along the Sword Coast and not just because of the way she spoke. Elves were usually very confident and proud; this one had trouble even getting a pigeon to obey her instruction. The way she dressed too, wearing the dirty tunic of a human peasant rather than the very elegant and beautiful patterned clothes of most elves.
Seeing that she wasn't going to convince the bird to go through conversation, she picked up a broom and gently prodded it in the pigeon's direction. The bird took the hint and in flurry of feathers took to the skies no doubt to warn others of its kind about the broom wielding maniac.
Aerie sighed as she watched it climbing away, losing sight of it when it flew in front of the sun. It probably landed somewhere on the roof of the coliseum. Well, they called it The Promenade now. Wagons and tents littered the sandy ground with all kinds of merchants selling various wares. But she'd heard that a very long time ago it hadn't just been a marketplace; it had been a place where people had come to watch chariot races and staged battles. Shows even more spectacular than the ones the circus put on now, if a little more gory. Even so, she imagined it would have been a spectacular sight to behold. A lot more exciting than Dan and his Dancing Dogmen (or Gnolls; she thought they might find the term 'Dogmen' offensive, although they'd never commented on it).
She tried to imagine what it must have been like to be a gladiator in those days, walking out in front of a huge crowd all baying for blood. Scary, yes, knowing that you might die. Maybe you'd feel angry at the crowd for enjoying and encouraging this... but, maybe there would be a tingle of excitement as well. Imagine they made you fight a Fire Giant, and all you had was a wooden shield and little sword... oh, it would probably glare at you and then tell you everything it was going to do before actually doing it. It would just pick you up in one hand and say, in a deep booming voice, something like:
'I'm going to tear off your leg!'
And you would say:
'No! N-not my leg! I need it for standing up on... aggghhh!'
'Now I'm going to tear off your arm.'
'B-but... h-how will I play the fiddle? Arrrggg!'
'Now, I'm going to bite off your squidgy little head...'
"Er... Aerie?"
The elf's eyes suddenly went wide with panic. She'd been so sure no one was looking, and... By Baervar, she'd even been doing the voices, hadn't she? Even the Fire Giant's 'deep booming' voice... not very well, either. She stood up, completely flustered and red. A young man, Charlie, one of the Fools, was watching her very carefully. He was almost fully in costume, apart from the makeup. Just torn, tattered rags barely hanging onto his body. His act mainly consisted of a lot of falling over, pretending to get blown away, that sort of thing.
"Um... I-I was just, um," she tried desperately to explain. "I... I was just... t-talking. To myself."
"Yes," Charlie nodded. "It would have been strange if I'd caught you talking to anyone else like that."
"Heh... y-yes," Aerie grinned nervously. At least Charlie was one of the nicer and more reasonable of her Circus colleagues. If it had been Tira or the Ringmaster she'd be limping back to her caravan and banned from eating. But Charlie was nice really, and she couldn't explain but there something she found very calming about his voice.
"So, apart from talking to yourself, what are you doing here?"
"I... I have to mend the Flying Machine," she explained. The Circus carried around a number of 'Wonders', inventions mainly of Gnomish origin, to show to the public. It had been her Uncle Quayle's idea. He was a Gnome; of course, they weren't actually related. Anyway, it seemed some boys had mistaken the exhibits for a playground causing a bit of damage. But since Quayle and the other Gnomes were busy rehearsing they'd asked Aerie to fix it, perhaps hoping that a little of their technical wizardly had rubbed off on her. There hadn't been a lot of damage really; just some tubes had come loose and the canvas torn in a few places.
"Hmm... Do you think this thing actually could fly?" Charlie asked, stepping back a bit to regard the machine, which just consisted of a wooden frame, canvas and a mess of gears and levers.
"It... i-it says it did, on the plaque, once... b-but..."
"Yes?"
"I-I really don't see how it could..." Aerie said, returning to work on it as she talked, "N-not unless a dragon picked it up with its claws and dropped it o-or some kind of magical assistance anyway. It's... just too heavy. And its wings are too small," Aerie sighed, "but I guess no-one would want to see a Flying Machine that couldn't fly."
"I saw a man around here once, selling these little rocks. He said they were belched from a sacred volcano on an island far to the east and had healing powers having been blessed by the island's high priest... he talked for a while, but those were the main points. But, they were just ordinary rocks. I'd seen him picking them up off the ground earlier in the day and putting them in his sack. Still, people kept wanting to buy the things. So many people wanted one that he had to raise the price of them. I mean, what does tell you about folk?"
"Hm... m-maybe they just liked his story so much that they wanted to feel like they were a part of it?"
"I'd have said that they were all very gullible and stupid. But then I'm just not as nice as you."
"S-sorry..."
"Oh, I wasn't criticizing you; more admiring. It's actually rather easy to be a cynic, especially for the folk around here. But to carry on trying to be nice in spite of everything; that must actually take effort."
The other Folk he was referring were presumably the other Circus worker rather than any of the merchants or their customers. Most of the people in the Circus now were former slaves, convicts and some people who wanted to run away for various reasons. A lot of people who didn't have much reason to be happy; which was ironic considering that spreading happiness was what a Circus was for. 'Charlie', as he called himself now... she guessed he'd had it even worse than most. He'd been just a little boy when he came here, as a slave. He'd arrived the same time Aerie did. The slavers had taken his whole family, cramming them all in to a tiny cage to be transported south. But his mother became and, tightly packed as they were, it wasn't long before they all were. By the time the slavers had arrived at their fortress and opened the cage door they found that he was the only one of his family left alive, the others all dead and rotting around him. After the uprising a few years, in which the Circus slaves were freed, at least in the sense that they now had to be paid at least a tiny bit for doing work, Charlie like most of the other slaves had stayed because he just had nowhere else to go. Maybe he became a Fool to try and make himself laugh as much as anyone else... it concerned Aerie though that every time she saw him he looked more and more tired.
"It... i-it is hard sometimes," the elf admitted, "e-especially with Tira."
"Tira?"
"She... she hates me. I-I don't know why since I'd never even spoken to her... she just took one look and decided not to like me. N-now every time I bump into her I end up getting punched or pushed to the ground. I-it's really starting to be a nuisance."
"She's what we refer to in academia as 'a bully'. Don't let her bother you."
"M-maybe... maybe you could teach me how to fall over? S-so it doesn't always hurt so much...
"Oh there's much more to Fooling than falling, Aerie. Come along with me and I will explain this long and distinguished tradition to you."
"But... I-I haven't finished this..."
"Just stitches left, right? Abe can do it, can't you Abe?" Charlie called out. A heavily built muscled man with tattoos all down his arms answered 'whatever' and went to work with the needle and thread.
"Well... w-where are we going?" Aerie asked.
"Didn't I say? Bentha wanted to see you before she left."
"She's leaving?"
"Apparently."
"Oh," Aerie felt a bit sad about that. Bentha was nice as well and, along with Quayle, she'd been teaching Aerie things; things the elf wasn't supposed to talk about, since they were things forbidden to most people in Amn. But although she travelled with the Circus quite often the old woman wasn't really a part of it. Apparently she'd been in some sort of trouble with a former colleague last year; Aerie regretted not having been there to help. Luckily a group of adventurers had stumbled into her tent just in time to save her.
"Now, Fooling," Charlie said, twirling the little stick he carried as he walked along. "You see Aerie, society always needs an outsider to point out its flaws. Someone whose status allows him to belittle and mock both King and Pauper... and that is what a Fool does. No one ever punishes a Fool for speaking out of turn because, clearly, he's just a fool, an old beggar, a tramp... "
"Gosh," Aerie grinned, "I-I had no idea it was so complex."
"Indeed. Any decent Fool goes to great lengths to keep themselves separate from the rest of society. When the great Fool Fabian thought he was getting too friendly with people, he took to smearing himself with Pig's urine in order to repel them. The Even Greater Fool, Francine, went so far as to get herself killed by a falling turtle when she was twenty six, thus ensuring she never became a part of the establishment."
"Y-you're quite friendly with me, though."
"Well, you may not be a Fool. But you are an outsider, and as such you sometimes see truths that others miss."
"If you say so, sir," Aerie blushed and hid her head. "But, I-I always thought it was just slapstick."
"Oh, heavens no. For example, my routine where I 'accidently' trip and throw a custard pie in the Emperor's face? It's a statement about there being no Divine Right of Kings; they're as mortal and prone to bad luck as the rest of us."
"Golly... I-I guess I should watch these things more closely."
"Indeed you should," he turned and glared at her, "slapstick, indeed." He closed his eyes, shaking his head. He should, perhaps, have stopped walking as well, because he then walked into the back of a cart. One of the chores Aerie had done that morning was to clean out all the animal cages, shovelling most of the crap onto this very cart; at some point in the day, someone would take it off to be dumped somewhere, or sell it to local farms. Aerie could attest to the fact that elephants produced a lot of fertilizer, so the Circus must have made a decent amount of coin from the stuff. Not today though; today the cart got flipped up, dumping its contents all over Charlie as he fell in. Of course, Aerie immediately made sure he was okay.
"Um... w-was that a statement as well?" She smiled. Apart from the fact that he likely would smell pretty bad for a while, he seemed fine.
"Yes," he spat then nodded. "It was a statement that you should always watch where you're going."
Charlie went to get cleaned up as best as he could, leaving Aerie to find Bentha on her own. But she had to go somewhere else first; someone stopped and told her to bring some refreshments to some of the people rehearsing. Gone was any of the confidence she might have had talking to Charlie. She bowed her head, said 'yes sir' and obediently took the bucket. Every day in the Circus people were in a hurry; there was constant pressure to get the next show ready. Anyone caught not doing enough work would soon find themselves booted, left in a ditch by the side of a road somewhere... it didn't matter if your 'Uncle' was the star attraction.
And so Aerie padded her way through the growing crowd. The noblemen and women with their powdered faces and big hats; all a bit too extravagant for her tastes. And mingling with them were the peasants, who had saved up all year in order to treat their families to a day out; Aerie liked seeing families together at least, even though she'd had a lot of first hand experience of how cruel children could be. And of course there were many merchants and a few guards stood at their posts. Other than stand there looking pretty, she wasn't sure if they ever actually did anything. She'd certainly never seen them to anything so bold as to actually uphold the law just a little bit. Slavery had been illegal in Amn for a long time, so she'd been told... and yet it had been allowed to go on right in front of the people whose job it was to prevent it? How could that be? She didn't understand, but she wanted to. Really wanted to... but the explanation had better be good. But it would have to wait since well, survival came first.
She went into the big tent carrying her pail, passing some of the acrobats and dancers as they did their exercises. Sometimes, on the rare occasion when she'd actually been allowed a break, she would come in here and sit in the shadows at the very back of the tent and watch them as they danced and stretched. And sometimes she joined in... well, she did what they were doing, anyway. Like standing on one foot with the other one above her head. No one ever saw her doing it, but she could hold that pose almost as long as the very best of the professionals here.
The dancing girls fascinated Aerie; she supposed because they had come to her to be the best representation of the illusion the Circus created. The people who came here to see them perform saw a group of very pretty, smiling, glamorous girls. But, were human eyes as sharp as the elf's, they might have noticed that these 'pretty girls' were in fact very athletic women covered in taut muscles and bruises from when they'd hurt themselves training, or from when one of the men here had succumbed to a combination of stress from the constant pressure to prepare the show night after night, and too much to drink. More often though, it wasn't those performers who suffered because of the later. The Circus kept with it a number of far easier, more vulnerable targets for someone looking to blow off some steam.
There was some commotion around the cages when Aerie arrived with the water. They were trying to get the Tigers to trot around a little obstacle course; up ramps, through loops and all that. Except the loops would be on fire when they actually did it in front of the crowd. But, one of the younger Tigers was refusing to come out of its pen; it cowered at the back while the men did all they could to entice it out. One of the men foolishly tried to reach inside and grab it, getting his arm swiped and slashed for the effort. Clearly, the man was now furious. Aerie kept handing out scooped water to people, trying not to watch since she knew what would happen next.
One of the men picked up a plank; others poked the animal with sticks until its head emerged, and then the man brought the plank down, breaking it in two over the creatures cranium. The animal collapsed and wailed.
Aerie couldn't watch. Tears were welling up; she hurried up, making sure everyone had taken a drink and then walked away as fast as she could. And then she ran. She ran out of the end and across The Promenade, collapsing by one of the archways leading in. This was the edge of the known world to her. Anything beyond that arch was an unknown, with equal potential to be wondrous and terrifying... she had caught glimpses of it as the Circus packed up his wagons and moved from place to place. She heard people talk and tell stories... but some day, some day she wanted to really see and experience it for herself. Maybe today? It would be so easy... just keep walking and don't look up...
"And where would you go?" And elderly voice said. Aerie wiped the tears from her face and turned around to face the old witch, Bentha, wearing her hood and her cloak tightly wrapped around herself ready to set off onto the road.
"A-anywhere is better than here," Aerie answered bitterly.
"Do you really think so? The world is a big place, Aerie... bigger than you've ever imagined. How will you survive?"
"I..." Aerie felt a tingle, and looked at her hand. It had a faint blue glow, and as she bent her fingers there were a few small sparks. She guessed when she'd ran from the tent wishing there was more she could do somehow caused the start of a spell...
"Magical power is a wondrous thing. But do you know how it will help find food or water, or a place to sleep?"
"I... I-I could have stopped them, at least..."
"Perhaps. But then you would have exposed yourself to the Cowled Wizards and it would be hard to help anything or anyone else from the place they would take you. Even if they ignored you, people here would begin to fear you. They know that all the creatures they so readily use and abuse here only accept their mastery so long as they have no inkling of their own strength. You would be forced to leave and so, again, how would you survive?"
"I..." Aerie searched desperately for answer; she just wanted so much to escape. "C-can't I go with you? I-I'm sure Uncle Quayle wouldn't..."
"Quayle is a good man," Bentha shook her head, "not so good at listening though. He has fallen for the illusion of this place. Besides, you would soon grow tired of the kind of life I lead. Not a lot of excitement, really."
"So... t-that's it, then?" Aerie slumped. "I've... I've got to just stay here and... j-just watch the world as it happens? What's the point in me having and learning all this magic i-if I can't use it to do any good for anyone?"
"Just be patient, Aerie. You have skill with magic, like few others... but not only that, the Gods have granted you the gift of divine power. For most Priests, it takes years of praying and making sacrifices to be granted that... I guess the Gods figured you'd already sacrificed enough. In any case, I doubt they would have bestowed it upon you if they wanted you to clean muck up for the rest of your life. No... they have a plan for you. A destiny... and I feel that very soon, it will start to be revealed. So be patient."
"If you say so," Aerie sighed, "I-I suppose I've waited more than twenty years already. I can wait a little more."
"I want you to have this," Bentha held out a cloth with something about an arm's length wrapped inside. As Aerie took it and pulled pack the cloth her blues eyes widened in astonishment at the thing aside reflecting the suns light brightly; a glass sword.
"This... th-this is an Avariel sword," Aerie noted. Of course, it wasn't actually glass; it just looked like it. Glass would a terrible thing to make a weapon out of. No, this material was as strong and as flexible as steel but only a fraction of the weight, so even someone as little as Aerie could swing it all day without getting too tired. "Where did you find it?"
"A lot of history in the world. A lot of things that get misplaced... you'll find that many of them turn up in the markets in Amn."
"But... w-why are you giving me a weapon?"
"Don't know. Just a feeling that you might be needing one soon. The weapon changes shape however you wish it... soon as you get a chance, you should practice with different forms to find out which suits you best."
"I... thank you," the elf bowed.
"Take care, Aerie," Bentha bowed also, and then proceeded to walk slowly through the arch. "Oh... I had another vision," she called back as she was disappearing, "if you ever see a man with blue hair... run!"
"Um... r-run to the man with blue hair? Got it," Aerie said, although Bentha was well out of earshot by now.
She supposed she had to get this thing back to her caravan somehow... without anyone seeing it. It only took her a moment to find that as well as changing shape, she could also change its size making it much smaller and easier to conceal about her person. Talking to Bentha had made her feel a bit better, but she still took a moment to gaze up at the sky and watch the seabirds flying inland... watching, waiting, longing.
There were a lot of former slaves in the circus. Most of time they didn't really want to talk about what their experiences had been like, which she understood and respected, but over the years she had pieced together the stories from most of them about the torture and abuse they underwent. Most of them shared this in common; that when you were suffering you just had to try to transplant yourself, in your mind, to some better time or place. Although you couldn't stop the physical pain, you could in that way at least minimise the psychological damage. And so it was that Aerie often found herself gazing up to the sky and thinking back to the life she'd once had up there... although, more and more she wondered if that had all just been a dream. She had only the scars on her back to prove otherwise.
Birds flying inland... she tried to shake herself back into reality. That must mean there was a storm coming... but it seemed to arrive much sooner than she would have expected. Her heart jumped at the sound of a huge crack of thunder. But there were as yet no clouds. Then, way on the other side of The Promenade, she could see a cloud of dust close to the ground. People running, shouting, screaming... an explosion?
She made her way across; she expected most of the people in the Circus will have stopped what they were doing after that. In the end the show would go on, of course... but she saw that there were children and people who had been injured in blast, hit by debris, crying and calling out for help. In an instant she forgot about everything she had lost, about all the unhappiness here; for a while at least her instincts took over and she immediately ran to help them.
Imoen was in her happy place... happy place, happy place, happy place... there were green fields, blue skies, little bunny rabbits running around holding baskets... everything was good, everything was good, everything was... gods, she hurt so much...
Finally, the beam went off and her body, as much it could in this small cage, slumped to the ground. Her eyes remained wide open, her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish pulled out of water onto dry hand and was trying desperately to breathe.
"Hmmm... disappointing," the white face said at last.
Imoen couldn't respond... could barely think. Her brain hurt.
"Do you even realise your potential?" He said. She didn't understand; potential for what? Why didn't he just tell her what the hell he wanted? "Never mind. Together, we shall find a way to unlock your true power."
It was at this point that the ceiling above them shook; Imoen could hear chains all around, rattling violently. She heard another voice, somehow even more monotonous and without emotion than that of white face.
"Intruders have entered the complex, master," it said.
"They act sooner than we had anticipated," White face answered. "No matter... they will only prove a slight delay."
Then Imoen heard footsteps, receding. What was going on? Were they just going to leave her here like this? She started to sob, desperate to know why all this was happening. Then there was a second, even greater explosion... so great that the cage she was in shook from its base, tumbling to the ground.
She remained inside for a moment, staring at the hole that had suddenly appeared in front of her; the cage door had opened. But... no, no it was a trick. He was always tricking her... he wanted her to see how pointless it was to even think about escaping. Well, she wasn't falling for it. She was just going to stay right here and wait for them to come back... and she would have done, if there were not a little voice inside that was still Immy that said:
'You've got a chance, bufflehead, now get going!'
She supposed she should try at least; it was better than just sitting around waiting for death. Okay, so... she managed to climb out of the cage. Now what? Which way was she supposed to go... or not supposed to go, rather. Brain was still hurting too much to make decisions... so find someone else to make decisions for her...
She remembered now; Jaheira, Minsc and, and... yes, the others as well. They were all around here somewhere. If it he'd been doing the same things to them... much as she wanted to just run and run, she had to get them out as well.
Try to remember... he'd shown around this place before. Shown her some of the other little projects he'd been working on, each more horrible than the last. But Jaheira; she remembered her own cage had been up there, and when he took her out they'd turned right... and then right again when they reached the wall.
"Imoen!" The tawny haired druid called. Thank the Gods she hadn't been very far. She must have been able to hear white face talking to Imoen.
"Jaheira?" The redhead said, relieved beyond belief. "A-are you okay?"
"No time for chit-chat, child. Hurry and pick the lock of this door before our captor returns."
"Okay... I do hate seeing you cooped up like that," Imoen said, and then waited. And waited.
"What are you waiting for girl?" Jaheira snapped impatiently.
"Well... when you asked me to pick the lock I assumed you meant you had something for me to pick the lock with. Like a hairpin or something."
"What? No... I assumed you always had all that with you."
"He confiscated it, obviously," Immy rolled her eyes, "He's an evil man, Jaheira... but he sure ain't stupid."
"Fine. You see that door behind you?" Jaheira nodded. "It is where the jailer usually resides. I suspect that he too is currently occupied with whoever these mysterious invaders are. Hopefully he will have left some keys."
"Invaders?"
"Explosions... 'intruders entering the complex'. For heaven's sake, pay attention to what is going on around you girl."
"You know... I-I could just leave you there," Imoen pointed. Jaheira answered by narrowing her eyes and using them to send the message that 'no... you really couldn't'. "Fine," Imoen relented. "I'll be back. Just wait here, okay?" Imoen winced; pretty stupid thing to say to a woman behind bars.
"I assure you I am not going anywhere."
Jaheira was hard to deal with sometimes, but at least she was experienced and keeping her wits; those were the things Imoen most needed right now. She ran into the jailers room and suddenly froze... should have peeked inside first and taken note of the great big golem.
But it was even more still than her, although it must have seen her. Whatever instructions it had, they weren't to put prisoners back in their cages. Maybe it had been told not to let them escape, but since it hadn't seen Imoen escape it had no responsibility to do anything now that she was out. Or maybe it was guarding this room... Imoen looked through the chests very, very carefully, always keeping one eye on the hulking thing. When she found a set of keys and picked them up, it still did nothing.
"That's good... that's very good," she muttered as she backed towards the door, "stay like that, please." Not even a nod. She got away with the keys and it didn't seem to care. Moments later, she had Jaheira freed.
"That is a relief, and about time too," the half-elf grumbled in her usual cheery, non-patronising and completely not sarcastic way.
"Have you been able to learn anything from our captor?"
"Not really," Imoen said. "He talks a lot, but never really says anything, yknow? I think he just likes hearing his own voice."
"He never asked you anything?"
"No," the red head started rubbing her aching temples, "b-but... he showed me things. He made me watch as he..." knives... she remembered lots of knives. He hadn't cut her at all, but he'd kept her eyes open as he... suddenly Imoen's cheeks swelled. Fortunately she hadn't ate enough recently to actually be sick on Jaheira. The druid quickly grabbed the young woman's shoulders, trying to keep her steady. "I'm sorry... my head really hurts, like there's a little dagger inside. I can't remember everything... I don't know... maybe I'm trying not to remember."
"Free Minsc... I will try to find us some weapons."
"Where's," there was a sudden little explosion in Imoen's brain. "Owww... w-where is Khalid?"
"I do not know," Jaheira said, trying to sound not too concerned although her eyes betrayed something different. "He has not been held with the rest of us... But he is resourceful, and had the same training as I. I am sure he will be sitting tight, waiting to be rescued or deep into his own escape. We will watch for him as we search for an exit. He will be fine."
Imoen nodded as Jaheira went in search of arms and armour... although it wasn't really that affirmative. But no... Jaheira was right. She was always right. Well, obviously not always; she was only a mortal after all. But probably about nine times out of ten... or maybe eight... or actually, seven times out of ten, she was right. Still, for any person that was a pretty good ratio of rightness to wrongness. Anyway... Minsc...
His cage was only a few metres away from Jaheira's, the bald warrior fast asleep inside despite the explosions and clamour of battle from above. Like a seven foot baby.
"Hey... wake up you," she said, gently nudging him with her foot. The redhead was reluctant to make much noise... the Golems may not be a threat, but she dimly recalled that there were other living things down here. "Wake up!" She repeated, a little louder and more urgently. He remained snoring away. "Minsc!" She clapped her hands together next to his ear and started to shove his shoulder... still nothing.
Actually there was some movement, just not from Minsc. Something small, crawling in the shadow just behind him. Imoen, very cautiously, leant over the warrior... then she jumped backwards about ten feet as the creature leapt onto Minsc's shoulder. It was only when Imoen took her hands away from her face to look that she realised what a foolish mistake she'd made... lucky no one was around to see it.
"Boo?" She grinned nervously, body still trembling. The little orange fur ball stood on his hind legs twitching his whiskers. "You stupid hammy hamster... you almost scared the life out of me."
"Squeak?" The hamster said. It was the tiniest sound, barely audible at all. But suddenly Minsc was wide awake, leaping to his feet and screaming wildly. The cage shook violently as he tugged and pushed at the bars, almost toppling it over. Their captor had obviously been aware of the risk, and Minsc's cage was fixed far more securely than the others were.
"AHHH!" The mighty warrior from Rasheman shouted. "Minsc shall be free! These bonds will not hold my wrath! Butts will be liberally kicked in good measure!" Imoen's headache just got ten times worse.
"I know you're angry Minsc," she said, covering her ears, "but you need to calm down. I'm here to release you, and then we can all get out of here."
"My anger is under complete control! I will control it as I rip limb from limb, I will control it as I pound head after head, and I will control..." suddenly the shouting became too much even for the mighty Minsc to keep up. He slumped forwards, his huge chest heaving as beads of sweat and, Imoen thought, some tears rolled across his skin. "No control... no mercy," he said quietly, "I will avenge... Dynaheir..."
"Dynaheir?" Imoen repeated, her jaw agape. She... she had a nasty suspicion, but asked anyway; "Where is she?"
"She... she is dead. My charge and friend... she is dead and I am a failure as her guard! Killed as I watched... but I will redeem myself!"
"That's horrible, Minsc. I am so sorry."
Imoen... well, she lied. She really didn't feel that sorry. She knew it was terrible; Dynaheir had been a good friend to her and to everyone. But right now the danger to herself seemed much more important than mourning. She didn't know if that was incredibly selfish or if it was just human... maybe when she was free and had time to recover her grief would catch up with her. Now, she couldn't force herself to feel something she didn't. Besides, she'd seen so much death recently.
"I won't cry for the dead! I won't!" Minsc declared, sniffing. "Okay, maybe a little. But I will staunch the flow of tears with righteous fury! Lullaby and goodnight, evil! Minsc will make you pay!"
"Stand back a bit... let me get this thing open..." Just a moment later and Minsc was free, flexing and warming up his enormous muscles for the inevitable butt kicking.
"Now, little Imoen, we can resume our adventures together," he said, flexing and warming up his enormous muscles for the inevitable butt kicking. "There are friends to avenge and villains to smack about the face and neck! Right Boo?" The hamster squeaked affirmatively. Looking at Minsc's tanned and bare skin, a thought occurred to Imoen.
"Um... how were you able to hide Boo from our captors?" She asked, noting that he was only wearing trousers. And they didn't even have pockets.
"A question better left to aged sages. Boo is quick and evasive and there is ever so much of Minsc to search... there is no hope of getting us apart!"
"Ewww... you know what? I don't actually want to think about that..."
"Then shall we go?" The warrior shrugged. "The butts of evil await my boot print!"
"There is one thing, Minsc," Imoen whispered, her head ringing again. "We're about to embark on an escape attempt, so we need to be as quiet as possible."
"Minsc understands," he answered, leaning conspiratorially over her. "I will be stealthy... like the crab..."
"Um... crab?"
"The crab makes not a sound... and when unsuspecting evil dost lay its dirty feet too close, we snip off its toes!"
"Right. Crab. Exactly."
Jaheira returned moments later, bearing gifts. She had found a cache of armour and weapons not too far away. There had been spears and halberds, two handed swords and flails... but she had left all of them. Those weapons were meant for the battlefield, not for fighting up close in narrow corridors. Instead she picked out a couple of short swords and daggers, a heavy mace for Minsc and a couple of small crossbows. Equipped as best as was possible right now, they set about finding the exit.
They of course had no idea in which direction or how far it was. Jaheira led the way, Imoen noting that she just chose one wall and stuck to it. That was how you found your way out of a maze. Imoen wondered about her other missing companions; Khalid, and... and Eldoth. She had no recollection of seeing him anywhere down here. But who cared; if they found him, they found him. If not, oh well. Although she wouldn't to find that slimey git had been the one who had sold them all out.
Jaheira too had a few concerns she was occupied with. She was concerned about Imoen; the girl was clearly finding it hard to concentrate as much as she should and she seemed to be in some sort of pain. All perfectly understandable, of course... but she couldn't control it she might become a liability to the rest of them. She would rather Minsc not have to carry her out of here. As if that wasn't worrying enough for her, Jaheira then looked back at Minsc. She of course knew what had happened to Dynaheir... but for any of them to honour the memory of their fallen comrade they all had to get out alive. What was of immediate concern was the way Minsc was walking; he had his back flat against the wall, would look earnestly from side to side and then take a big step sideways before repeating the process.
"What is he doing?" She asked Imoen.
"He's being stealthy," the red head answered as if it ought to have been obvious. "Like a crab."
"Of course," the druid sighed, shaking her head. "Soon I will be too old for all this."
"What are you talking about? You're not old at all... and I-I'm glad you're here," the red head smiled. A little bit forced but at least it was well intended. "The way you're calm and seem to know what you're doing... I think if I was alone down here I'd be running around clucking like a chicken by now."
"Do not start getting sentimental, child," the druid said, going a little red.
"Sheez... don't take compliments very well, do ya?"
"We have to concentrate on the task at hand. This is no time for hugs and kisses and sharing our feelings," Jaheira said as if it were a strange alien word.
"Well, whatever you say, I'm still glad. Maybe that's why I'm glad... you can always stay so focused on what needs to be done."
"A task I am far better at when you do not keep distracting me from it."
"Fair enough... I'll hang back. Just... just a little bit, anyway."
"Thank you," Jaheira said a little sarcastically. Then she turned away to concentrate on where they should be heading next; Imoen didn't see the sneaky little smile.
Top of all Jaheira's concerns right now was of course her husband, Khalid. So far there was no sign of any other prisoners. If they didn't come across him before finding an exit, then she would make sure Imoen and Minsc got to safety before returning and performing a more thorough search on her own. Imoen was her top priority; it was her mission as a Harper, and more importantly her promise to an old friend that she would take care of the girl. Khalid understood. He knew his duty.
Of course, she had grown fond of Imoen too. The girl's pranks, frankly terrible manners and tendency to act a fool in front of everyone even though in Candlekeep she'd been given access to the best education and the largest library of knowledge on the whole surface of Faerun; all those things about her were infuriating. But beneath it all, Jaheira had come to recognise a very sweet, pure hearted girl. Jaheira of course would never tell Imoen she thought she was sweet; hopefully it came across in the way she was constantly nagging her to do things.
There had been so little time to prepare her for everything that lay ahead. It wasn't supposed to be Imoen at all who would carry the burden of destiny. Two infants had been saved from becoming sacrifices to their dead father, Bhaal, the God of murder, a boy and a girl. The one within whom Bhaal's taint resided the most was to be groomed for fulfilling his destiny and one day claiming his father's place alongside the other divinities of Faerun. The weaker of the two, Imoen, was to remain hidden. There was so little of Bhaal's essence in her that she may well have led a perfectly normal life without ever having any inkling of what was inside her. But it was not to be.
Imoen had been too young when it happened to remember it, by there had been a fire within Candlekeep. Inside the library itself it was impossible to create even a spark, but elsewhere in the fortress all the usual laws of nature still applied. No one was ever sure how it had started; perhaps it was a dire warning from the universe itself that it controlled fate, not people. In any case, Imoen's brother had perished in the flames.
Now the hopes of Gorion and of all the good people in the realms rested solely on the shoulders of an annoying red haired girl whose favourite past times included making lists of animal names that sounded like parts of the body and sneaking into people's rooms at night and moving all their underwear around.
Jaheira could only pray that the Gods and nature would give her all the help she could get.