Out Of The Shadows
Chapter Two:
Breakout
Drip... drip... drip... it was all Imoen could hear, each one echoing in her pretty little skull like the sound of thunder. She felt hot, her stomach was grumbling for food and the pressure in head seemed like it could explode at any which wouldn't be at all good for Minsc who was standing next to her. She knew she wasn't sock; she didn't know why she felt this way. Trying to remember only caused the pain to swell up more... it was already throbbing. It had a steady beat like that of a drum. Every time she thought it might be fading out it just came back even louder. All in all, this was turning out to be one of the worst days of her life. Yes, even worse than the time she was woken in the middle of the night and serenaded by Garrick. That was embarrassing for all involved, but at least the boy could hold a tune.
Nevertheless, she was trying to concentrate. It wasn't easy, since she was wincing every few seconds to try and force to pain back. It may have been because she had noticed her grimaces, and at one point Imoen was banging her head against the wall in the hope that a little pain would somehow distract her from the even worse pain she was already feeling, that Jaheira had decided to leave Imoen and Minsc in a small room while she scouted the corridor ahead.
"I fear 'little Imoen' may be suffering from sort of... fatigue," The half-elven druid had said quietly to Minsc while the redhead became familiar with the brick work down here. "Keep a close on her until I return," and then she'd disappeared into the gloom up ahead. Did she think Imoen hadn't heard? The redhead may not have had big pointy elven ears, but her ears worked perfectly especially now that every sound seemed like an earthquake.
Imoen went along, if only because she couldn't face an argument right now. Still, it didn't seem right to just sit here. She didn't know what their captor wanted, but it was pretty obvious that it had something to do with her. Well... not her, really, but what was inside her. If she could have ripped it out and given it to him, she would have done so gladly. Then no one would have had to die. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't really do anything other than go along and hope that somehow all these things worked out for the best. Hadn't done so far, but... well, she could at least make herself useful by going through all the stuff that was in this room.
There was a desk a few boxes; they might contain some important items or information. So far as they'd wound their way through the damp, dank corridors they'd come across a number of exotic machinery connected to jars filled with green bile and, Imoen thought, some sort of creatures. Or bits of creatures anyway... she thought she'd seen something that looked a disembodied mouth. It was hard for her to see in the low light and anyway their main concern was getting out of here. They needed food, water and a place where they could actually lie down and get some proper rest. Had she mentioned that her back was sore as well?
She knew she couldn't make sense of the machines. She knew she wasn't really dumb; she could do really big sums in her head and perfectly memorise several pages of text after one read. Those were skills, and useful ones for practicing magic which mostly just involved remembering and then repeating complicated series of words and gestures. But she was wise enough to know that despite being able to do all that, she wasn't exactly a genius. Now, Dynaheir on the other hand, she would have been to look at all the machines and devices here and then figure out how all the seemingly disparate pieces fitted together and it would have told them at least something about their captor... poor Dynaheir...
"Halibut," Minsc leant over and whispered to her suddenly, although even his whispers had a way of causing the walls to tremble.
"Er... what?" Imoen blinked, peering up from the desk and trying to focus on his keen face.
"Ha-li-butt," he repeated slowly, "it is an animal with a part of a body in its name."
"I... see," Imoen said, although it was a few more seconds before she actually remembered what this was about. "Minsc... we started playing that game three months ago..."
"And Minsc has just thought of one!" He said, standing and looking unjustifiably proud of himself.
"Oh-kay," Imoen wondered, had he just thought of it or had he seen her looking down and thought this would cheer her up? Perhaps Minsc had a sort of child-like, innocent wisdom that he wasn't given enough credit for... but, looking at him she was pretty sure he had actually just thought of it. "Fine, my go. How about coc..." but she was cut short, her eyes darting into the gloom Jaheira had vanished into from which came a horrid shrieking and wailing, weapons being drawn and then splashing and struggling... and then silence.
Imoen stood and moved away from the desk, her eyes trembling as she stared into the inky darkness.
"Jah... Jaheira?" The girl called out plaintively. Then some slimy, dripping, dripping foul smelling creature suddenly lunged out of the shadows. Imoen screeched and jumped back, her heart almost leaping through her throat, but then... it was just Jaheira, covered in sludge.
"That... that wasn't funny Jae!" Imoen protested, her face turning red as she noted the little smile appearing on the corner of the druid's lips.
"Come now, child," the tawny haired elder woman said, "it is hardly endearing to people to always give but never be able to take."
"I'm not a child, I'm twenty years old, and you almost gave me a heart attack! I... I was afraid something had happened to you," the redhead sighed, her anger quickly subsiding. "I'm sorry, I just... I'm a bag of nerves as it is. This whole place is creepy, and... I... I'm scared, Jae..."
"Good. I would be more worried if you were not," Jaheira said, picking an appendage of her shoulder and handing it to Imoen. It was a pink tentacle... nice. "We do not know where we are or where we are going or what we might find when we get. Courage, child, is not as many believe the absence of fear, but being able to control it. Use the energy it gives you to keep alert and do what you must to survive. So long as you do not panic, you will make it out in one piece, I promise. We all will."
"Just please tell me you've found the way out."
"Not yet. But I have at least discovered why this place smells like a sewer."
"Why's that?"
"Because it is a sewer. And one frequently in use."
"So we're still in the city?"
"Not Baldur's Gate," Jaheira shook her head. She wiped off a bit of the slime with the end of her finger and she touched it with her tongue. "Too spicy," she said, licking her lips. "No... this is further south. Amn or Tethyr."
"That is one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen you do," Imoen said, going from red to ever-so-slightly green. She had seen Jaheira do a lot of disgusting things, like eating bear pooh. Yes, it turned out that bears did indeed shit in the woods but then druids and rangers came along and consumed all the evidence. "What... what about Khalid. Is there any sign?"
"No," Jaheira shook her head, looking worried for a second. "Perhaps on another level. On a positive note, I have seen little sign of our captors either. They must all be engaged in the battle above. So let us seize the initiative and not dally here any longer."
"Yup... I'm all for not dallying. Let's go."
Imoen hadn't found much in the desk; a few notes and designs and pages from what could have been a diary. Obviously, there was no time to read them all properly and maybe once she'd rested and her mind was fresh and no longer plagued by this wretched headache she'd be able to make more sense of the stuff, or at least find someone who could. It was written in elven anyway, and she wasn't as fluent as she could be. It seemed a little strange, since there was no sign of any elves living down here... but maybe that was the idea, and it was considered the language now for all mages and practitioners of the art.
And so they kept going, Jaheira taking the lead. The half-elf was the only one of them who could see more than a few feet ahead in all this gloom. Minsc took the rear, meaning Imoen was somewhat protected in the middle although that didn't really make her feel much better. Safer yes, but not better. She almost wished they were attacked by something because as they marched onwards, she was left only with the throbbing in her head and her thoughts. Minsc may not have been smart in a conventional, but he was strong and loyal and one hell of a fighter, as was Jaheira who was undoubtedly the most experienced of them as well. But despite all her pranks and running away quite often, Imoen was struggling now to remember what it was she actually ever did to help anyone. It seemed like they would have had a much easier time getting out if they weren't guarding her... well, apart from the fact that if it wasn't for her good fortune they would probably all still be stuck in their cages. But Gorion, Winthrop and now Dynaheir had all died and... what for? Tenya was right, wasn't she; Imoen was weak, lacked ambition, and always just a follower. She was utterly useless, wasn't she? Not worth this.
Jaheira raised a hand urging complete silence from all of them. The druid's half-elven senses had detected the guards coming a couple of minutes beforehand; Imoen only that moment heard the clang of armoured feet on stone. The trio ducked into a room, another laboratory, and took shelter behind some of the machinery. Two figures stopped by the door and one peered inside. He was a stocky Dwarven figure with the typical long white beard and hammer that seemed far too big for a body his size; dwarves sure didn't make their weapons small. You'd almost think they were overcompensating. But unlike most Dwarves they had seen before, this one had skin that was the colour of coal. And bright red eyes... infravision! It was fortunate that the machinery and other apparatus in this room gave off heat of its own, obscuring the trio from even that sense. He glanced quickly around the room and then, satisfied, continued down the corridor with his partner.
"They are heading toward the cells," Jaheira said, breathing out.
"Duergar," Imoen recalled, "Deep dwarves... I remember reading about them in Candlekeep. They're kind of evil, so I guess it's no surprise they'd be working for him. He probably... probably needs them for the knives..." There was another painful pang as Imoen thought.
"Knives?" Jaheira said, arching her eyebrow.
"Lots and lots of knives..." the redhead started to remember. The white face had wanted to show her something... but all she remembered was seeing him cutting. And blood... so much blood... not hers though. What was it? She was trying to remember... it seemed important, somehow, but she just couldn't force the barrier to open for her...
"Evil or not, they will soon know of our escape. We must hurry."
A motion Imoen was whole heartedly in favour of. She stood in such a hurry that she knocked something that had been slumped in the corner behind her... or someone. Imoen froze and slowly felt behind her... there was a hand there. Male, dressed in leather...
"J-J-Jae..." Imoen's lips trembled weakly. Imoen felt the body suddenly slump forward, pushing her away as the druid turned. The redhead fell back on her behind as its head bounced off the machinery and the corpse came to rest on its side just in front of the girl.
He can't have been dead that long, since he was still warm. In life he had been a young man, probably not much older than Imoen. In death he stared right at her, and she stared back into his unblinking eyes like little marbles... she had seen plenty of bodies before. But this was the first time she had noticed that with the wide, unblinking eyes and soft pale skin death was actually somewhat... pretty. Even the beating in her head getting louder didn't break the entrancement. Actually, that was getting to be quite relaxing now. Thud, thud, then pause, thud again... like a heartbeat.
"One of the intruders, perhaps," Jaheira examined the corpse. "No sign of injury... probably killed by magic. No markings to show his affiliation or any other form of identification... looks like a rogue.
That was good, Imoen thought. It was a corpse. A pretty corpse, maybe, but giving the corpse a name would remind her that it was once a person and not a lifeless thing... no, what was thinking? How could she have had that thought... how could death ever be pretty? It was this place... this horrid, dark, damp, smelly place. It was screwing with her, making her think thoughts that weren't her own. She had to get out... she had to get out right now...
"Imoen?" Jaheira suddenly appeared beside the girl. The redhead turned her head slowly.
"Death isn't pretty," Imoen said, her own eyes wide and unblinking.
"No," Jaheira kindly agreed, despite it being a very strange thing to say all of a sudden.
"Good... so, why are we standing around still? C'mon peeps... somewhere out there is a nice soft bed and roast chicken dinner all for us. But I'm definitely having the legs. You guys can have all the stuffing though. Don't like stuffing."
Suffice to say, those events probably did little to assuage Jaheira's fears of Imoen's battle fatigue. But they all had no choice but to keep going, find Khalid and escape. They could worry about their injuries, physical or otherwise, once they were all safe. Well, there was one other choice; they could just wait around until they joined the rogue in the hereafter but strangely no one brought that up as an option.
After a while Imoen was becoming concerned that they might be going around in circles; every damn corridor looked the same. But no; she had to trust that Jaheira knew what she was doing and would find a way out of here. Eventually the landscape did start to change; instead of dull, grey bricks and stone they found themselves in what looked like a natural. With trees growing inside it.
"That's... not right, is it?" Imoen said to Jaheira. "I mean, I'm not as in touch with nature as you are Jae, but I'm sure I've never heard of trees growing underground before. It can't happen."
"No," the druid nodded.
"Another one of his experiments, I suppose. Maybe he's going to sell them to the Dark Elves... they might be less grumpy if they could eat fruit every now and then. But... no, he wouldn't be trying to do anything good for anyone. Must be another reason."
"Imoen?"
"Yeah?"
"Do shut up. Your babbling is distracting me."
"Well, since you asked so nicely..."
"Can you not feel it?" Jaheira said, ignoring the redhead and putting her hand gently against the bark.
"I am starting to feel that it was mistake to let you out, but otherwise..."
"These are not ordinary trees."
"I already said that, didn't I? Do you ever listen to a word I say?"
"I try to every so often, but it is never a very pleasant experience. Now shut up and watch..." Jaheira walked out to the centre of the cavern, between the three trees. "Fellow servants of nature, you have nothing to fear from us. I know creatures such as you could not be serving our captor, at least not willingly. We are prisoners too, only seeking a way to escape."
"Is she talking to trees?" Imoen said out of the side of her mouth to Minsc. "I thought I was going mad down here..."
But, somewhat annoyingly, it turned out Jaheira wasn't going mad just yet.
"Help us!" A distressed female voice said; Imoen looked around but at first couldn't see where it was coming. Then they stepped out of the trees, although there was opening for them to have done so. Spirits... dryads. Imoen once read about such creatures, back when she used to read a lot. Candlekeep was a library after all and there wasn't much else to do. They were... almost too perfect, too beautiful. That actually made them quite hard to look at, at least for Imoen. Minsc had no such difficulty.
"Pretty ladies!" He grinned widely. Imoen wondered briefly why it was she'd never seen a male nymph or dryad... although she supposed technically they didn't really have a gender. She did remember some biologist speculating that female was the default for creatures, and male was some freaky mutation. That made sense; every man she'd ever met was a freak of some kind. For now though, there were three dryads each wearing just enough leafy clothing to cover her modesty and no more. One was blonde, one had red hair and one dark... almost the full spectrum of hair, which was convenient since in the absence of names it provided a way to identify each one as they spoke.
"We are his possessions," the blonde dryad said sadly.
"His servants," the dark haired one added.
"His... his concubines," said the one with red hair.
"By him I assume you mean the white face," Imoen snorted derisively.
"Wh-white face?" The blonde responded with an uncertain look.
"Tall man... wears a lot of leather. All I could see from my cage was his white face."
"Ah, yes... you mean Irenicus. Yes, he is the one who has imprisoned us here as well."
"Irenicus," Imoen repeated. It was the first thing they had learned about their captor, the man who had tortured her and killed her friend and mentor; his name. It wasn't much but it was a start at least. But frankly she wasn't sure how much else she wanted to know; if she never saw him or heard that name again, well, that would be fine. She wanted to be as far away from him and his experiments and his knives as she could... even thinking about him she shivered. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so afraid of a person, if you could call him that. There was just something about him that just wasn't right... he derived no pleasure from torturing his victims, she now recalled. To him people were just things to be taken apart and studied like some Gnomish invention. He was cold... the coldest man she had ever met. She had begged and pleaded with him but it was no use... he had no emotion, much like the Golems that served him. But unlike them, he must be aware of the harm he was doing. He seemed too intelligent not to, he just didn't, or couldn't, care. One of the books in Candlekeep had a word in it for people like that; psychopath. But knowing that didn't make him seem any less inhuman.
"We would like to help you," Jaheira spoke to the dryads, "but we need to find a way out of here first."
"We know the way!" The blonde one cried.
"The only way... through the portals," the redhead nodded.
"We will show you... but you must take us as well," the dark haired beauty said, all of their faces filled with hopeful.
"Sure," Imoen said, "but you do know there's some sort of battle going up there. Any of you gals know how to fight?" She asked, looking somewhat doubtful.
"You won't have to carry us, if that's what you're worried about," the dark haired one said again.
"Well, not exactly us," said the blonde, "you just need to find our acorns."
"Take them to the Fairy Queen in Windspear Hills," the redhead elaborated, "once they are replanted there, we will be free."
"Where are these acorns?" Jaheira asked.
"One of the Duergar, Illyich, has them. We will show you; he is not far. With most of the Dwarves distracted now you should be able to take them from him."
"Minsc will help you ladies," the huge warrior announce, loosening up. "Minsc's feet are tapping, but they are not dancing, oh no. They grow restless; eager to leave their bootprint in the buttocks of evil once more... and to avenge Dynaheir!" Boo punctuated his sentence with an eager squeek.
And that was that. Their minds were all made up... sure they could have searched themselves and hoped to stumble upon and activate one of these portals by accident, but getting the dryads help seemed more expedient. Besides, as infuriatingly pretty as they were, they probably didn't deserve to be trapped down here. Imoen wondered why he kept these... concubines. Was that the only pleasure he had? No... she was sure, for some reason, that pleasure was something he never had. Maybe he was hoping for... what exactly? He was just empty. Yes, empty.
In any case, the tree spirits were true to their word and led them to a small library inside of which were half a dozen of the Duergar. They seemed pretty relaxed, not expecting to be attacked, and that meant the adventurers could surprise them and hopefully it would all be over before any of them knew what was happening.
It was Jaheira of course who peered inside from just behind the door and assessed the tactical situation. She noted another entry way and sent Minsc round the corner to it so they could attack from both sides at once.
"What should I do?" Imoen asked.
"Nothing," Jaheira said, loading her crossbow, "just wait out here."
"But..." Imoen started to protest. She really couldn't just stand here, could she? Jaheira could at least give her a crossbow... she wasn't a very good shot, admittedly... and along with her lockpicks Irenicus had also confiscated her spell book and all her components. But there had to be something she could do to help...
"We do not need you right now," Jaheira said calmly. "Just wait."
Imoen's jaw hung open and she lowered her head like she'd been punched in the gut. "Fine," she whispered miserably. Of course, they were right. They were only outnumbered three to one... why on Toril would they need her? She'd just be in their way.
And so as Imoen just waited, Jaheira stormed the room, with Minsc following her from the other side almost immediately. Two of the Dwarves fell right away, crossbow bolts right in the eyes, but the others far quicker than one could have expected, grabbing their axes and hammers and rushing at the intruders before they had a chance to fire again. Jaheira easily sidestepped the first one to reach, landing a killing blow to the back of his neck as he swept past but the other approached more cautiously. Across the way, Minsc swatted one aside and planted his boot firmly into the face of the other. But Dwarves were tough, and they were back up again in no time.
Imoen peered inside and watched the battle as it progressed... they had lost the element of surprise and it had become a melee. If only she had something... like a wand. But she hadn't... oh that was a bit weird. She was sure that Fire Wand hadn't been on the shelf there a second ago, pr any of the others that were now there. Must have just missed them somehow... but what the hell. She didn't have to stand around and do nothing after all. Disregarding her guardians orders, she sneaked in and took the red and orange stick from the bookshelf. Now she just had to wait until she got a clear shot at one of them.
Minsc had a Dwarf held by the ankle, swinging him around at his comrade like a bearded club whilst laughing maniacally. Eventually he spun around and let the Dwarf go, the momentum sending beardy smashing into the wall and sliding down. But Dwarves really were very tough creatures; he shook it off and looked up... straight at Imoen who was crouching behind the bookcase.
This was her chance; all she had to do was say the word and he would be engulfed in flame. But... she didn't. She froze. She watched him get up and sneer at her, could see the sheer anger and the hatred in his eyes... why? What had she done to him... what had she ever done? She had committed no crime other than just being there. Even when he lifted his hammer and began to charge, she did nothing... not until the last possible second.
"No!" Jaheira suddenly caught sight of the girl pointing the wand shakily at the oncoming Dwarf. "Minsc... down!" She cried, seeing that she was too late to change what was about to happen.
Imoen said the word, and a little orb shot out from the wand. It struck the Dwarf in the chest, lifting him backwards and then... the world suddenly became very bright. And a lot more orange.
For what seemed like a very long time, Imoen sat as she was panting and staring straight ahead. Finally, the heat from the flames that were spreading over all the bookcases caused her to stir and think that maybe it was a good time to pick herself up.
"I told you to wait!" Jaheira hissed angrily. Imoen was glad to see that she was alright, at least. Minsc had also had a narrow escape, although none of his hair had been singed at least. One of the Duergar was still wriggling a bit... but he was probably pretty well baked in that metal armour.
"Er... oops?" Imoen attempted to diffuse the situation with a sheepish, but Jaheira wasn't having in it. She was getting angrier with each step she took.
"Oops?" The druid, her eyes narrowing and bearing down on the redhead, "no child... 'oops' is what you say when you spill a drink or drop an egg. Almost blowing us all up requires more than 'oops'."
"I'm... sorry?" The redhead tried, a little desperate tear welling up in her eye.
"You are sorry? You think that makes everything fine, do you?"
"No," Imoen squeaked pathetically. She didn't know what to say. She knew she'd messed up pretty badly... nothing she could say. Conversely, nothing Jaheira could say could make her feel any worse than she already did... although she had already found that wasn't exactly true. Imoen just hid her head and tried not to talk for a little while at least.
Fortunately the acorns had survived the blast. The Dryads kept their promise and led them to room with a large oval mirror that at their command revealed a portal... a sort of hole in the universe connected to another elsewhere. Apparently it was the only way in or out of this dungeon and so the group stepped through. Before they did, Jaheira asked them about Khalid; they said other than themselves and the Duergar they could sense no one else on that level. The druid seemed confident that they wouldn't lie, at least not to her.
Their sudden appearance on the other side must have startled the man who had been standing in front of the mirror there, apparently hiding out in this room while the battle went on outside. He reacted quickly, darting back and lifting his crossbow. In response, Jaheira and Minsc lifted theirs.
"Woah, there!" Imoen shot out and stood between the stranger adopting the classic 'now, we've all had a little bit to drink' pose that she'd learnt from Winthrop.
"What are you doing now, child?" Jaheira snarled, clearly still angry. Imoen realised she may have been pushing her luck, but it was the first human face they'd seen and he was dressed more like the dead man they'd found earlier than one of Irenicus' minions.
"Maybe we should find out if we're enemies before shooting each other?" The redhead pleaded with her. "I mean... he's clearly not a Duergar is he?"
"Very well. Talk to him," Jaheira allowed, but she didn't lower her weapon just yet. Imoen turned to the man and began to speak.
"Heya... I'm Imoen. The big man is Minsc and the permanently scowling lady is Jaheira," she said. The man looked at her, tilting his head curiously. "Er... we're prisoners. Trying to escape." He kept looking at her with a curious look but not saying anything. The man was clearly from Kara-Tur, the eastern continent of Toril. The vast majority of people on Toril spent their entire lives never journeying more than a few miles from the places they were born long distance travel being much the exclusive domain of the very rich or very powerful. So to see someone from the other side of the world here on The Sword Coast was quite a rare thing. Imoen had met one other person from Kara-Tur before; Tamoko. She had been Sarevok's beau. Imoen had no idea where she had gotten to after the battle beneath Baldur's Gate. Maybe it was good they hadn't bumped into each other again; Imoen had broken her promise to try and spare Sarevok's life.
"Maybe he doesn't understand me," Imoen shrugged when he didn't respond at all. "We're prisoners... trying to escape. Who are you?"
"Why is it that you westerners always think that if a foreigner does not understand you, you only need to say the same thing again, but more loudly?" The man said in perfect common.
"Oh... you, talk."
"Evidently, yes."
"So you can answer my question, then; who are you?"
"Why, I am Yoshimo," he announced, as if that ought to have meant something. "You know, Yoshimo?" Didn't ring a bell to Imoen... she looked back to Minsc and Jaheira, both of whom were equally as clueless. "Perhaps I need to speak more slowly; Yo-shim-o..."
"Wait," Imoen gasped, "you mean... you're the Yoshimo? Feared by all?"
"At last, an admirer!" He grinned proudly. "Yes, it is I. Please do not ask for an autograph."
"Um... I was being sarcastic."
"Ah... forgive me. I am still not used to your strange western sense of humour or your fetish for highly fattening milk based products. You cannot be from Athkatla then, or you would have heard of me."
"Is that where we are?" Jaheira asked. Everyone still had their weapons pointed at each other. "Athkatla?"
"It was where I was," Yoshimo shrugged, "I was prisoner here like yourselves... escaped in the confusion. I do not think I could have been taken far, but then I may have been drugged... I am uncertain. Perhaps we can escape together? Four heads are better than three, or one, hm?"
"Four," Minsc glared.
"Excuse me, friend?"
"We are four," the warrior corrected. Boo leapt onto his shoulder and announced his presence.
"Ah... I did not see your friend there. Five heads are better than four, then."
"Minsc likes the little man," the warrior grinned. "You are welcome to join us! So long as you do not clip your nails with your teeth. Boo does not like that."
Imoen was fine with him joining them as well. He seemed amiable enough; with his high hairline, little goatee and long moustache he kind of looked like he should be a villain. And yet... he had a cheeky smile, and cheekiness as far as Imoen was concerned was the surest sign of a trustworthy person. Of course the final decision, as it always had, rested with Jaheira.
"Some day my trusting nature will lead me into wrong," the druid sighed, finally lowering her weapon. "But very well... tell me first though, have you seen any other prisoners?"
"I..." Yoshimo turned his head away for a second, as if distracted by something. "Why do you ask?"
"I need to find my husband, Khalid."
"I... see," he lowered his and thought for a moment. "No, I have not seen anyone," he said. But it was pretty obvious to everyone that he must have seen something. Jaheira grabbed his arm, squeezing it tightly as she pulled his face close to hers.
"If you know anything, you should tell me now," he must have been surprised by her strength. Most people were.
"There was... someone," he admitted, "but... I do not think it could be him."
"How can you know?" Jaheira narrowed her eyes in warning, "I have not even told you what he looks like."
"If... if it is him, then," Yoshimo shook his head. "Perhaps it is better if I just showed you. The battle seems to have been taken outside now, but there are still many traps ahead. I will lead the way and make sure it is clear.
"Oh, I can help you," Imoen stepped forward. She knew a bit about traps as well... it might make up in some way for what happened earlier.
"You nearly killed us," Jaheira pulled her back again, "the last place I want to see you is near anything that might explode."
And so once again Imoen followed behind the rest of the group. Some distance behind, since she felt that it was better for her health and Jaheira's soul that the druid did not see her at all right now; if she did, she might commit a terrible sin. Yoshimo did the work that Imoen did when they'd explored places such as Durlag's Tower together. Even though their party had grown, she felt more and more alone. And the heartbeat hadn't gone away. It was still getting louder.
She didn't know why she had froze in the fight with the Duergar; nothing like that had ever happened to her before. And then to make such a stupid mistake... she wondered if Jaheira would ever forget it and let Imoen get back on her good side. Well... Imoen supposed she'd never really been on Jae's good side because of all the pranks and stuff. But she had managed to be on her 'alright' side before. More importantly, would Imoen ever forget? Maybe her adventuring days were over... it had been fun being a hero, occasionally. But imprisonment and torture and seeing her friends die... she hadn't been prepared for that. She supposed she should have been. What a bufflehead.
With no tasks to keep her occupied, Imoen was still lost in thought when the others stopped in a room ahead. It was only when she bumped into Minsc's back that she looked up and saw what they all saw...
Yoshimo, his head lowered solemnly as pointed Jaheira to the table. Minsc looked disgusted, barely suppressing his rage. But the worst was Jaheira; the druid had always been unshakeable. But now for the first time Imoen saw horror and despair there.
The redhead remembered this room now, and she recalled again the knives and the cutting and so much blood... it... it couldn't have been...
"Kha... Khalid," Jaheira sounded weak as she slumped to her knees. Irenicus had left just enough of his face intact that they could recognise him. The rest of him had been cut to pieces. "You... you can't be... Khalid..." she wept. It was the first time any of them had seen her in tears, and no one was sure how they should react to it. This... this was Jaheira. You never had to worry about Jaheira; she was always strong even when others weren't.
Irenicus... it was as if he was dismantling everything Imoen had taken for granted. But why? What was it all for? Why had her friends had to die like this? Was it because of her... what was inside her? This... this was her fault. Maybe if she hadn't been so useless...
Silence had descended in the chamber, other than Jaheira's plaintive sobs. Imoen was the first to break.
"He... he didn't suffer," she said. She doubted it would be much comfort but she had never seen Jaheira, or anyone, in this much pain and she didn't know what else to do.
"What? What are you babbling about, child?" Jaheira slowly turned on her, her eyes red with a mixture of sorrow and rage. Imoen didn't know how much of that rage might be directed at her, but she pushed on.
"I remember now... I saw it happen. Khalid... he was already dead when Irenicus did this..."
"What? " The druid hissed. If she had been angry at her before, then... Imoen gulped. "Why... why did you say nothing before? You let me go on believing that... my Khalid was still alive when all the while you know...?"
"I didn't!" Imoen cried desperately. "I didn't remember... I guess I didn't want to. Made myself forget... but I remember it now. He said he wanted to show me..."
"Show you?" Jaheira's eyes narrowed further, and although still on her knees she was inching towards Imoen with what looked like murderous. The revelation that Irenicus had used Khalid as a tool to get to Imoen had clearly been the wrong one right now. "And you just watched?"
"I couldn't," Imoen sobbed, "I couldn't do anything. Khalid was already dead... I... I-I-I'm sorry..."
"Sorry? You think I want to hear sorry right now? Do you think mere words can make up for any of this?"
"I'm sorry," Imoen repeated, covering her face as she now wept as well.
"Enough!" Jaheira turned herself away suddenly. "I... I do not wish to hear any more words."
Jaheira knelt beside the remains of her husband, and remained in silence while Imoen still wept. It really had been her fault... he had wanted to show her, so why use Khalid? Ever since the night she'd ran from Candlekeep to the friendly Amn she had followed Jaheira, trusted all her decisions... but now, how could the druid ever look at her again after this? She was useless. She didn't deserve. The heartbeat was getting louder, and faster, until it became one long drawn out... and then it stopped.
Under normal circumstances that would have been a relief. But it wasn't. How could she grateful that her headache had stopped when this had happened to her friends? Anyway, it came back again after a minute... but this, there was something else. It had a voice all of a sudden.
'You are not the one,' it said. It was Imoen's voice, inside her head... only different somehow, 'no, you're not supposed to be here at all. This is all wrong.' So great; on top of everything else she really had gone. Hysterical. Really.
'Shut up,' Imoen, the real Imoen such as she was right now, told it. 'I don't need any disembodied voices in my head right now.'
'Oh, you've got it all wrong silly. I mean, yes, I am a disembodied voice, for the time being, but you're not going mad just yet.'
'But I suppose you're going to try to make me do stuff... steal, kill, eat all the rice pudding, that sort of thing, right?'
'No. You're too pathetic to waste that kind of effort on... but something could be salvaged, at least. So I think I'll probably just kill you.'
'You'd be killing yourself, bufflehead.'
'Oh, I'm not going to kill your body. You're quite right; I'll need that. I'm just going to kill your mind and then daddy's little girl will be able to have some real fun.'
'Daddy's little... just shut up you! You're just a figment of my imagination.'
'Try and make me shut up. Go on, try it... oh, no wait... you can't, because I'm in here and you're out there. Nyahnyahnyahnyah... can't get me!'
This was ridiculous, Imoen thought. Why was she talking to it? She just had to ignore it and it would go away.
'Oh, yes. Try ignoring me. See if that works. I'm guessing... not. There's no escaping me Imoen... I'm inside you, and you've a lot to learn. And, oh yes, you will learn. Or you could be a good girl and just die like you were meant to.'
"No!" Imoen said out loud all of a sudden, drawing concerned looks from Minsc and Yoshimo. "I'm not going to die in this place... I won't!" And then she ran out of the room... the way out couldn't have been far. She had to get away from this place... she had to get away from all of them before anyone else was hurt because of her.
"Jaheira!" Minsc cried, trying to stir the druid into action. "Little Imoen has..."
"I know," the druid sneered, "let her run."
Jaheira supposed that they, she and Khalid, had always known it was possible one of them would meet their end like this... well, perhaps not quite like this. But she had never given any thought as to what she would she would do if it actually happened. It just seemed like such a remote possibility... but it had happened, and nothing she could do would change that. She looked on his and tried not to remember him like this... all bloodied and torn. She tried instead to remember her husband... her brave, strong, kind Khalid. Too kind, really; he'd spoilt Imoen, quite frankly. Far too easily forgave all her antics... but then, maybe, just maybe, she was at times too harsh. Together Jaheira and Khalid had... balance. But now he was gone. She would never be whole again.
She looked into his eyes and saw not the still dead eyes that were actually there, but the eyes of the man she had loved. And he was not happy; if she could hear him now, he would be reminding that whatever had happened, she was still a Harper, and she still had a mission and a promise she had made... that they had both made to their friend a long time ago. Imoen... Khalid had cared for Imoen like he would have cared for their own daughter. He would want her to persevere and go on... why had she let her run off like that!
'Damn you Khalid! You just wait... I will join you one day and you will never hear the end of it for leaving me like this!'
She kissed him gently one last time and let him sleep... for now, anyway. Now though, she had to go on. She had to see it through. She picked up her weapons and ran off after Imoen... she didn't know what was going on in that girls head. Whatever it was, they would have to sort it out later. The druid heard a scream up ahead... unmistakeably Imoen's, and so she quickened her pace.
The girl had been jumped on by some blonde elven woman; her body was wet and covered in little cuts which could be seen because she was also completely. Jaheira did not try to make sense of these things, since the most pertinent issue right now was the knife she had held against Imoen's throat.
"Stay away!" The elven woman snarled. "I shall never let thee touch me!"
"Jah-Jaheira, please," Imoen sobbed and whimpered, "I... I don't want to die here. Please..."
"I do not have time for any more games," Jaheira declared, and then shot the woman with her crossbow. Right between the eyes. She'd been holding the knife all wrong anyway; she might have made Imoen bleed a bit, but that would have been it.
The elf slumped back, releasing her grip. Unfortunately the sight of a dead woman did little to take the edge of this panic attack Imoen was suddenly having.
"I can't die!" The girl kept saying. "I have to get the surface! I have to go..."
Jaheira had seen this sort of thing happen to people before, even to experienced warriors. Battle fatigue it was called; too many things piled up at once and the mind just couldn't take strain and so it snapped. It probably wasn't permanent, but Jaheira regretted that she hadn't trained Imoen more, helped build up her resistance to abuse and torture. Unfortunately, it was another thing she didn't really have time to deal with now.
She lifted Imoen up, spun her round, and hit her with an uppercut to the chin.
"Minsc!" Jaheira caught Imoen as she slumped, and handed her unconscious form to the big man. He was able to carry her easily over one shoulder; they probably should have just done this as soon as Jaheira first noticed the girl wasn't really all there.
"Look at this," Yoshimo beckoned the druid over to a nearby doorway. She stood next to him and peered inside. Glass liquid filled tanks connected to machinery... she had seen similar setups in some of the rooms down below. But the tanks here contained people... some had only bits of people and three had been shattered. But... no, not people. They all contained the same person.
Jaheira knew nothing of science and technology and all this experimental magix, but this was varly self-explanatory; he was making copies. Copies of the same person... someone important to him, perhaps? Anyone important to this Irenicus was from now on important to her as well... she would remember that elf's face, just as she would remember his at least until she had extinguished it from this world for good.
Yoshimo nodded at the floor. Following his look, she saw there was another set of wet footprints in addition to those of the clone they'd killed, coming out of one of the shattered tanks, out of the room and up along the corridor. Another clone had escaped, possibly two since there were three broken tanks, although there were no tracks from the last one.
In any case, the prints led up and that was where they were going too.
At last, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Jaheira started to feel refreshed the moment she felt the natural sunlight against her skin. The scene that greeted the group outside however was not so warm. They stood on the edge of a rubble filled crater in the middle of what was definitely a city. They could see some white marble structure filled with arches stretch out and curve to either side of them, and hear the bustle of a metropolis as the noise of the battle was just coming to an end. There was also Irenicus.
He stood in the middle of the crater, bodies of leather clad men and women wearing hoods encircling him. A short distance away, the last hooded figure was suspended in the air as if held up by a rope, although none was visible and there was nothing above to tie it to. Irenicus twisted his arm and tightened his fist, and the suspended man's bodied cracked and bent, like he was being crushed by the fist of an invisible giant, and then Irenicus opened his hand and the man fell, dead.
"H-hey," Imoen said, coming round at that moment. "Hey!" She started raining feeble blows on Minsc's back, demanding to be let down.
"Shut up, child," Jaheira hissed.
"You! You punched me...again. I... I oughta..."
"What?" The druid arched her brow... still angry, Imoen could see.
"I... I oughta find a little person and beat them up for it. Where are we? What's everyone looking... oh," Minsc dropped her down on her feet, in front of Irenicus. He had turned now to face them, regarding them as coldly as he always had. Those chills ran up and down Imoen's spine... but no, she couldn't run. A strange resolve suddenly took hold of her.
Today she had failed, badly. It was her fault her friends had died and that she had nearly killed everyone else too. And so, she had to face him.
"So, godchild, you have escaped," Irenicus noted without much interest, "you are more resourceful than I had thought."
"You... you're not going to torture us... You're not going to torture anyone anymore," the redhead said, clenching her fist.
"Torture? Silly girl, you just don't understand what I'm doing, do you?"
"I don't care what you're doing! It ends now!"
"Now? No, not now. Not when I'm so close to unlocking your power."
"I don't want anything from you!"
Imoen hadn't handed over all the wands she'd had when Jaheira had demanded; she'd needed something just to safe, and it was a wand of magic missile she'd kept tucked in her boot. Not something she could blow everyone up with, even by accident. At least the chances of it exploding as to not even be worth mentioning. Now it appeared instantly in her hand. She aimed it at Irenicus and uttered the command, and a sphere of powerful magical energy leapt out headly surely for his chest, hitting him and... doing nothing whatsoever. He didn't even flinch... Imoen stood, frozen to the spot with her jaw hanging open.
"Was that really the best you could do?" Irenicus said, clearly disappointed still. With a non-chalant wave, a blue flame engulfed the red haired. It didn't really burn her; her skin was untouched. But the feeling of burning was still quite strong, overwhelming her senses and causing her to once again slip into unconsciousness after one last terrified scream.
Jaheira charged directly at the sorcerer her weapons drawn and hungry for his blood. Another sweeping hand gesture, and it was as if she'd ran straight into an elastic wall and was catapulted straight back.
Minsc was ready to go next, to avenge Khalid and Dynaheir... but Yoshimo put a hand on his shoulder.
"No, my friend. Look!" He pointed to the other side of the crater, where the air had started to distort, and then a group of grey robed figures carrying staffs, faces obscured by large hoods, stepped through several holes that had appeared in space.
"This is an unsanctioned use of magical energy," one, obviously an elderly man, declared to the audience. Some of the city folk had gathered nearby to watch the fight. "All involved will be held, this disturbance, is over," he said in a grand theatrical voice, which the spectators seemed to enjoy.
"These are Cowled Wizards," Yoshimo explained, "they monitor all use of magic throughout Amn, and suppress any of which they don't approve. It is the wrong place to duel with magic."
"Must I be interrupted at every turn?" said Irenicus, for the first time showing an emotion; irritation. "Enough of this!"
On this occasion these Cowled Wizards seemed to have walked into more than they had bargained for. The adventurers, including Imoen who was coming around again, took cover at the edge of the crater as Irenicus and the grey robes exchanged bolts of highly destructive energy erupting from their staffs and their fingertips. The wizards fell one after another to the leather clad sorcerer, but more and more kept coming through those tears. With no telling how many there were, Irenicus seemed to eventually come to the conclusion that it was a stalemate.
"Enough! I haven't the time for this!" He declared.
"You will cease your spellcasting and come with us!"
"Your pathetic magics are useless. Let this end."
"Even if we fall, our numbers are many. You will be overwhelmed."
"You bore me mageling. Very well, you may take me in, but..."
"Irenicus!" The nearby crowd and the adventurers were all surprised to see another player enter the scene. And clearly so was Irenicus. He stared in disbelief at the blonde haired elf dragging her feet into the crater, covered by a long white robe.
"Dost thou wish to prey upon me again, my master..." she chuckled. Maybe he wasn't listening and didn't realise she was just a clone. Maybe for a moment he let himself believe that she was actually the original, whoever that may have been. In any case he allowed her to get very close... close enough that she had her lips almost pressed up against his. "You created me... and killed and created and killed and created, and now... i shall put an end to thee!"
The clone woman revealed the dagger she had tucked up her sleeve, bringing it up and then down to Irenicus' neck... he bought his defences up just in time. She was unable to break through the magic barrier around him, but she kept pushing with the blade anyway, her hateful eyes locked with his, slightly more sorrowful ones. Another emotion Imoen had not expected to see, and refused to believe had.
The wizards saw that he was distracted, and seized the advantage quickly. While the sorcerer and the clone where locked together, they began to cast a spell of imprisonment over them both. The wizards, along with their captives, disappeared the same way they had arrived, the holes in space closing behind them.
"No... no!" Jaheira snarled and ran out, desperate to follow them. "I will not be denied like this! Where have they disappeared to?" Minsc and Yoshimo ran out after her, but Imoen stayed where she was.
She'd been useless. Weak and useless. Every time she had tried to help today all she'd done was make everything worse... Jaheira would want justice, revenge. Clearly she would have had a better chance without Imoen.
'Can't say I disagree with any of that,' the voice that was Imoen but not Imoen said, 'no, really; I'd say you've hit the nail perfectly on the head there.'
She tried to ignore it, but she didn't argue. There was no argument she could make, really.
"You... you are right," Jaheira breathed deeply, Yoshimo having convinced her that it was pointless and indeed foolhardy to just run after them. "We... we must not rush into anything."
"Lady Jaheira!" Minsc cried.
"What is it, Minsc?"
"It is little Imoen..."
"What?"
"She... she is gone..."
As Imoen ran through this market she found herself in, her head exploded again. She could hear daddy's girl laughing at her. It wasn't just her head either; her stomach ached. She didn't know what she'd eaten recently, if anything at all. The pain and the grief became too much once again, and she collapsed in the dirt.
As the world blurred and faded around her she was briefly aware of a blonde haired girl leaning over her, asking if she was all right and if she needed any help. Imoen didn't answer; everything faded to black.