Disclaimer: I do not own 'Shadows of Amn', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them.
I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

– Blackcross & Taylor

The affairs of dragons

'Right,' muttered Jaheira, struggling to refold the map to show the relevant quarter in the fitful gusts of wind that were howling up the valley behind them. They were paused about the stout stone marker that indicated the border of the Windspears, their group gathered on that barren rocky plain, towering crags and imposing tree-covered mountains looming upon every horizon, the pony Aerie was leading taking advantage of this halt to tear up some of the rye grass growing about his hooves. 'Right, according to this, Garren's holding is but a mile north of here. The village of Rythorpe is several miles west of that and likely large enough to provide us with any supplies we will need, while, over on the eastern hills, is the hamlet of Ferncragg with a few farmsteads scattered about the surrounding area.'

'I cannot see much to farm about here,' muttered Haer'Dalis, scuffing a foot over the stony ground, 'unless they do trade in scree and dust.'

'Most of the trade, I believe, is from timber,' offered Valygar, 'There is a large forest of pine and other firs to the south west, though the eastern hills are more verdant -at least relatively. There is enough scrubland up there to keep a few herds of goats; enough to live on, though the life could not be considered easy.'

Anomen frowned, scanning the distant cliffs. 'And these bandit attacks will hardly be helping matters –livestock will be as valuable as gold at this time of year.'

'Indeed,' agreed Jaheira, tucking the map under her arm as the group set off northward once more, 'Minsc and I worked out a route yesterday covering the likely places they will have made camp. They will be dug in and immobile at this time of year, so that has narrowed the field of potential places to ones that are more sheltered –I estimate a tenday will be enough to make a thorough search of them all. We should speak with this Garren before we finalise anything, though; he may have an idea-

Valygar raised a large hand, eyes fixed on the rough hillside next to them. 'Hold. We are approached.'

'Harpers?'

'Bandits?'

It was actually orcs; a whole band of the creatures, about a dozen in total marching down the hill and making no attempt to conceal themselves behind the sparsely growing pines.

'Well, this is unexpected,' muttered Jaheira, instinctively turning to push the map back into the safety of her pack, 'Lord Jierdan made no mention of the bandits being non-humans.'

'Perhaps they aren't,' said Fritha, raising her voice with her hand as she called, 'Ho! We would parley with you!'

The lead orc brought his group to a halt but yards from them, his small eyes narrowed and almost hidden in his muddy porcine face.

'So, we have finally found you.'

'You were looking for us?' confirmed Valygar. The orc snarled, a hand already at his weapon.

'Your mockery will earn you nothing but a swift end, beasts! Your terror ends now!'

Now Jaheira was frowning and looking quite as cross as the orc leader. 'And what terror is that? We have only just arrived here. Lord Jierdan-'

'Be silent, cur!' shouted another of the orcs, 'We will not hear your lies!'

'Cur?' repeated Fritha, more than surprised by orcs who swore as courteously as Anomen. 'You know, you're awfully eloquent; where did you learn common?'

'Enough!' roared the leader, drawing the club at his hip, 'No more words! My blade has all the answers you seek! Attack!'

Fritha was moving back, drawing her own sword even as she cried, 'Now just hang- whoa!' She just dodged the arrow, the shaft whipping past her ear, Valygar releasing one of his own -only his did not miss.

'Get on the archer!' the leader roared, but the ranger had already cast aside his bow, drawing the fine katana at his hip as the two groups met in a clash of blades.

A spell from Aerie crackled overhead and the archer still left on the hillside was no more, the thick fir tree he had tried to duck behind all charred bark and smoking branches. Anomen had stepped forward to engage the orc leader, the pair trading furious blows while Jaheira guarded his flank and Aerie both as the elf prepared another spell, Fritha, Minsc, Haer'Dalis and Valygar pressing the battle into their ranks. Fritha finished the orc before her with a final slash to the gut, whirling to block the spear thrust of his fellow who had just appeared on her left, the girl dancing past the spear point to make a thrust of her own, the blow caught easily on his shield.

Inside his guard though she was, he made no retreat, instead swinging the shield out and forcing Fritha back, his spear held low and ready for another thrust. She blocked it again, using the flat of her blade to deflect it towards the stony ground and it was there she saw her chance. A booted foot planted firmly on the spear head as her blade swept down to hack it off at the shaft, her victory short-lived as the broken pole was instantly freed and the orc drew back the splintered shaft and drove it at her stomach with force enough to split her mail.

Fritha gasped, the spear suddenly a white-hot lance as it pierced her side, and the image of him swam before her eyes, not the orc she had just been fighting, but a man, square-jawed and pale, his blue eyes like saucers as he stared down at her in horror.

Ajantis had faced much in battle over those last two years within the Order's ranks, but to be locked in fierce combat with a vile snarling orc, only to strike the killing blow and find a young woman staring up at him had been more of a shock than he had been prepared for. The spear shaft left his hand and, for an instant, she just stood there, staring up at him as if in a dream, when her head dropped, a curtain of auburn curls sweeping across to hide her face as she slumped forward, clasping his arm for support, Ajantis stricken as he fumbled to get an arm about her.

'Oh… oh by Helm, my lady…'

'Fritha!' cried a tanned half-elf a few yards from them, young Adril laid out at her feet, the woman already hurrying over to him. 'Don't-!' she snapped, but instinct had taken the place of sense in his panic, Ajantis reaching forward to heave the shaft from the girl, blood spattering the ground beneath.

'Fool! Better you had left it in!' the woman cursed at him, falling to her knees to help lower the girl to the ground, quickly brushing the hair back from her paled face, the girl's eyes but fearful slits as they found her companion.

'Jaheira…'

'There, Fritha, lie back, let me see.'

'Oh, gods… Jaheira…'

'Fritha!' cried another behind him and Ajantis whirled just in time to be shoved sideways, a man of his own age and Amnian colouring pushing past him to drop to his knees beside the pair. 'Fritha, oh, Helm's mercy-'

'It is all right, Anomen,' the half-elf soothed, 'it is not as bad as it could have been.'

At Ajantis's feet, the girl gave a feeble laugh.

'Yes, quite, barely a scratch –ohhhh...' she trailed off with groan. The half-elf frowned, though her tone was gentle.

'There are other wounded, Anomen.'

For an instant, the man looked torn, when he leaned in, placing a hand against the girl's forehead as he murmured, 'I will return, dearest,' and then he was gone, on his feet again and rushing to help a huge bald warrior with his burden, the old soldier, Wilhelm, leaning against him heavily and barely conscious as he clutched at his bleeding stomach.

Ajantis took a step back from them, his eyes scanning the rest of the battlefield with disbelief. There were no orcs, his own companion from the Order, Sir Aeslen, and most of the militia men they had led lain dead upon the field, though a few were still alive. Fashir was sat up, panting as he clasped his bloody shoulder, a man with blue hair next to him and busy trying to staunch the wound in his leg. Jude was knelt next to the unconscious Adril, while a dark-skinned man was helping a young elven girl as they tended to Dewydd, and Ajantis had finally regained himself enough to set out to aid them, when a voice somewhere above him shouted, 'What is going on here?'

'Who are you?' Jaheira demanded at his feet and Ajantis turned to see who she was addressing, a man of late middle age hurrying down the eastern hillside, a bow strung at his back and a brace of rabbits swinging at his hip.

'I am Garren,' he called back, 'I keep the holding just north of here. I was just coming down from checking my traps when I saw…'

'You saw?' pressed Ajantis, desperate for this horror to make some sense. Garren's craggy face pulled into a sympathetic frown.

'I saw two groups of orcs fighting, only their deaths have yielded different results.'

Ajantis closed his eyes, trying to fight down the anger that went against all the Order's teachings as he concluded, 'We have been tricked into attacking these people.'

Garren nodded.

'That I can see, and I can guess the perpetrator too, though now is not the time for discussion. Come, bring your wounded; my house is not far from here and we may yet avoid more deaths if we hurry.'

He spoke the truth, his house barely a quarter hour's walk, though, to be fair, their pace was much hastened, the group carrying their wounded as they skirted north through the edge of the forested hillside and crossed a barren windswept plain to the holding. The house itself looked large and quite grand, the stone grey and likely brought in from elsewhere, the wooden barn and few sheds dotted about it seemingly added later, all enclosed by a wall of loose brown stone that had been collected from the rocky plain itself. Garren was shouting as soon as he had passed the gate, the man calling for his son as he crossed the yard and threw open his front door to usher them all inside.

'Here, just tie the pony to the post there -Lewis? My son, we have need of you!'

Everyone crowded into the main room, though it was quite large enough, especially considering what little furniture there was, only a solid oak table set against the back wall and two chairs either side of hearth, Garren stood in the centre barking commands with the authority of a man used to giving orders.

'Take the wounded men into the kitchen; there is room and light enough in there to work. You, sir, take this table through as well, set it next to one already in there. You, help him please, then stoke the fire and put some water over it to heat –there is a hand pump in the backyard. Ah, Lewis,' Garren sighed as a dark-haired gangly youth of no more than sixteen winters ran in the front door behind them.

'Father, what-'

'No time for explanations, lad, these men have need of your skills. Go into the kitchen and help these good people as your mother once would have.'

Lewis paled as he noticed the bloodied man Anomen and Ajantis were carrying into the kitchen, though he nodded once and hurried after them.

'Have you somewhere I can work?' asked Jaheira, Fritha slumped between her and Haer'Dalis and groaning softly as the tiefling murmured some comfort at her ear.

'Of course,' Garren nodded, hurrying to open the door to their right on a large plain bedroom, the canopied bed and chest of drawers looking rather lost in such an abundance of space. 'Here, my lady, lay her on the bed.'

'No…' groaned Fritha, still sensible enough of her surroundings to spare a worry for Garren's sheets, it seemed.

'Fritha,' Jaheira ground out, though she heeded the girl all the same, nodding at Haer'Dalis as they lowered her gently to the bare floorboards. 'I am sure the floor will serve.'

Garren nodded, moving to close the door on them as Haer'Dalis hurried out.

'As you will, my lady; Gods be with you.'

...

In the kitchen, steam was billowing from the hearth, the pot over the fire bubbling furiously and a warm wet mist hung in the air. Anomen wiped the sweat from his forehead and likely smeared it with blood in return, the young Dewydd lain out on the table before him, blood covering the table and smearing the stone floor at his feet as Anomen tried in vain to close the gaping wound in his chest with spell and suture, the sources of bleeding too multiple to locate and he would no sooner seal one than find another.

'Lewis, take that water off the fire and open the back door,' he barked, the lad springing up from where he had been tending Fashir, the solider sat on a chair in the far corner, the bandages bright against his coffee coloured skin, while Adril was laid at his feet on a makeshift bed of deerskins Lewis had brought in from the barn.

Aerie was hunched over the table opposite, Wilhelm long passed out from his stomach wound, though she looked to be having more luck with it.

'I need more wadding, Lewis –just in the top of my bag, there.'

They continued to work like that for a few moments more, silent save for the occasional order to Lewis, the air clearing as the steam dissipated, when the girl opposite cast one final spell and stepped back from the table with a relieved sigh. Anomen glanced up to the young man's face, Dewydd's skin pale and cool, two fingers at his neck confirming the unavoidable truth.

'How are they doing there?' asked Fashir quietly; he already knew.

'Wilhelm should be fine,' answered Aerie, 'I've given him some milk of poppy to keep him sedated for the pain. He needs to be left here an hour or so to settle, then it should be safe to move him.'

The elf turned to Anomen. He shook his head.

'I'm sorry.'

Fashir just nodded once, Lewis pulling the last knot tight on the bandage at his leg to pipe up, 'There, sir, how does that feel?'

'Much better, lad, my thanks,' he sighed, Lewis helping him as Fashir limped to the door. Anomen sank heavily on to the chair he left, pulling the pot of hot water to him as he stooped to wash his hands. Aerie watched him with thin lips, turning to the boy to add quietly, 'If you are finished there, Lewis, perhaps you could go and see if Jaheira needs anything.'

'Yes, my lady.'

The pair at last alone and Aerie crossed to crouch before him, her voice gentle as she dipped her own hands into the warm, ruddy water.

'We tried our best, Anomen.'

'I know.'

'There was nothing more we could do.'

'I know!'

'Don't snap at me, Anomen,' she retorted just as sharply, 'I am only trying to help.'

Anomen drew a deep breath, raising his face to finally look at her.

'I am sorry, Aerie, I just never thought I would be found a murderer.'

'Murderer?' she repeated shrilly, already shaking her head, 'I'm sorry they are dead, Anomen, but we are not to blame in this. Fritha tried to parley with them and they just attacked us.'

'We looked as beasts!'

'So? Such an excuse would have seen me dead back at the circus! They attacked with no cause and nearly killed us, so stop acting as though we have just slaughtered a field of innocents!'

'You are right; I know it. It is just difficult to lay the blame at the feet of men you have just killed.'

'Er…'

Anomen glanced up to find Lewis peering apprehensively around the door.

'How is she?'

'Mistress Jaheira says she needs nothing save no more interruptions.'

Aerie tightened the hand upon Anomen's shoulder to forestall him bawling the lad stupid as she clarified, 'And how is Fritha?'

'Oh, Mistress Jaheira said there is much splintered wood and chain links in the wound; she is having to remove them before she can begin to close it.'

Anomen sank his head back into his hands, stomach so tight with worry he felt sick. Aerie gave his shoulder a brief reassuring squeeze.

'She'll be all right, Anomen.'

He nodded, straightening with a sigh. 'Come, we should speak to the others and try to find some sense behind this cruel deception.'

Back in the main room, discussions were already in progress, though little headway had been made, it seemed. All but Fashir and Garren were sat in a circle upon the floor, and the room turned as one as Aerie shut the kitchen door behind them, Ajantis looking grave.

'Fashir told us about Dewydd- you did all you could and I thank you for it.'

The pair nodded, but said nothing, Garren rising to let Aerie take his seat, while Anomen remained stood by the door as talks resumed, Ajantis taking the lead.

'You said before you believe you know who tricked us, sir.'

'I have a suspicion, no more,' Garren began, the firelight making the silver streaks in his hair all the more noticeable as he settled on to the floor next to his son. 'As these men may tell you, I was once lord of these lands, but that honour was taken from me by one Lord Jierdan Firkraag and I shall forever curse his name for it.'

'You are saying Lord Jierdan put this illusion on us?' exclaimed Jude angrily, 'You are out of your mind! Lord Jierdan protects his people. He paid for the Stonetooth Fort to be rebuilt, set up the militia and asked the Order to send men to train us –why would he want to kill us?'

Garren shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by the man's anger. 'I do not know why. I only know he is the sort of man who could and would if it served his ends.'

'How did Jierdan take your lands?' asked Valygar. Garren's chuckle was heavy with bitterness.

'All too easily, I fear. He discredited me. Without the faith of the people you rule, you are nothing. There were missing people only Jierdan could find, bandits only he could stop. The people of the Windspears turned from me to him and my influence slowly crumbled.'

'Why didn't you tell anyone?' asked Fashir.

'I had no proof. It would have just looked as though I was bitter about my own failings. By the end, I was a lord in name only, as well you know.'

'But you could have warned us!' cried Jude, the man's face pink in his temper and clashing with his short russet hair.

'You liked Lord Jierdan well enough before this, Jude,' dismissed Fashir calmly, 'The fault here is his, not Garren's.'

'But none of this explains, why he would trick his own militia into killing some mercenaries,' pressed Ajantis.

Garren sighed. 'I cannot tell you. Jierdan's grudge against me is well-known. I fear he wanted me to crawl away and leave this land like a whipped dog when he took my title, but the Windspears are my home and I would not leave, lord or not. I still had my lodge here and we make a living enough from the forests. As for you, perhaps you or the Order slighted him in some matter.'

But Haer'Dalis was already shaking his head. 'Oh, no, my birds, I do not want to steal from you the limelight, but I believe you were but the bit players in this tragedy. Jierdan summoned us to this very place and I believe it is we who are the intending victims of his wrath.'

'So he wanted us to kill you?' confirmed Ajantis. The tiefling gave an evasive shrug.

'Mayhaps. Though looking at the distribution of the wounded, perhaps it would be safer to assume he wished for us to kill you.'

'But why?' cried Jude, 'We have done nothing!'

A moment of silence; there was no answer for him.

'Whatever the reason,' continued Garren, 'the fort will soon notice your patrol has not returned and they will likely send another to investigate.' The man rose stiffly. 'I will go now and explain the situation, perhaps we can forestall their retaliation.'

Jude stood, as well, swinging his cloak about his shoulders. 'I will come with you, Garren, to lend weight to the story.'

'My thanks.'

'But what we to do in meantime?' asked Ajantis, 'Just wait for Jierdan to act again? The Order will demand justice in this.'

'And how do you plan to take it?' said Anomen, finally breaking his silence, 'We have no evidence yet that this Jierdan is truly the one to blame.'

'The fort is not far from here,' interjected Fashir, 'They will be back within a few hours and may even bring news which will help us find the real source of this evil.'

Garren nodded, shouldering his bow. 'We'll be off then; we should know more in a few hours.'

Anomen straightened from the wall as the door slammed shut.

'I should inform Fritha of the situation.'

...

Anomen pushed the door open on Garren's bedroom to find Fritha just as he had expected, laid out on the floor in the room's centre, his eyes drawn instantly to her pale bared abdomen, half-smeared with blood while Jaheira hunched over the open wound, bloodied forceps poised in one hand and her werelight hovering above her.

'Anomen,' the girl sighed and he pulled his gaze to her face, a cold sweat plastering stray curls to her forehead. A rag was clasped in her hand, a dark blue bottle that he assumed contained Jaheira's supply of ether resting at her shoulder. She smiled lazily. 'Come to partake of a little vitriol? Jaheira's temper has never felt so sweet.'

She giggled breathily, lacking the energy for more, Jaheira sitting back on her haunches to snap, 'Fritha, keep your breathing deep! You have little enough on that rag as it is!'

Anomen frowned. 'You should have put her under.'

'You think I did not suggest it? She wanted to be awake!'

'Don't talk about me like I'm not here,' Fritha sighed, her eyes half-closed above the rag, 'I won't chance being unconscious if something else happens. I'm fine. Just needed something to –fft- to take the edge off.'

'Sorry,' mumbled Jaheira, letting another fragment of wood drop into the dish at her side.

'How are the other wounded?' asked Fritha absently.

Anomen swallowed, dreading the answer. 'Adril is still unconscious, but the signs are good and Fashir is sat through in the main room with the others now. Wilhelm is sedated -Aerie has finished tending him and he is doing well.'

'And the last one?'

'Dewydd- he is dead, Fritha. We could not save him.'

Fritha gave a dry sob. 'Oh sweet Illmater, only five survived.'

'An inch or so higher and you would have likely joined them!' snapped Jaheira, 'Now, breathe!'

'It is believed,' continued Anomen, as Fritha choked her sobs with the rag once more, 'that this whole tragedy was orchestrated by the lord of these lands, Jierdan.'

'The one who asked us here to begin within?' confirmed Jaheira.

Fritha seemed especially hurt by this betrayal. 'Oh, and he seemed like such a nice man.'

'Well, Garren has had dealings with him before and this Jierdan seems a scoundrel of the highest order,' Anomen continued, trying to ignore the fact Jaheira had returned to her examination, Fritha's face contorting now and then as he spoke. 'Garren was long ago lord of these lands, but Jierdan tricked the people here and ousted him from power.'

'But why?' asked Jaheira and clearly expecting no reply, 'Why such an elaborate ruse to bring us here, only to trick us into such a crime?

'I know why,' cried Fritha miserably, 'it's because I'm doomed! I come here to fight bandits for coin and I end up murdering some soldiers! Oh, why does everything I touch go wrong?'

Anomen frowned, wishing very much he could kneel next to her and take her hand, but he knew Jaheira would not welcome the distraction.

'Take heart, dearest; the blame in this is not ours and Garren has offered us what little influence he has left. He has already set out for the fort to inform them of what has happened and plead our case. He believes we should know the outcome in a few hours.'

Fritha sighed, raising her head slightly from the rolled-up cloak that was serving her as pillow and taking another deep sniff of the rag.

'Good,' she panted, 'that's something at least. And how are we doing down there?'

Jaheira glanced up, her face drawn. 'Well, I can find only one more… but it is the largest yet.'

Fritha stifled the most awful mix of groan and sob, and the druid looked stricken.

'It has to come out!' she snapped, her anger at what she was being forced to do clearly colouring her temper.

'I know, I know,' Fritha sobbed, drawing a deep breath from the rag and screwing shut her eyes, 'I'm ready.'

And Anomen was forced to leave as the druid descended, Fritha's muffled cries following him out.

...

There was no more peace to be found in the main room though, the others sat in brooding silence, and so Anomen mumbled something about making his prayers and left that crowded, overly warm house for the cold barren plains, the sun high above him and providing little warmth in midst of the biting wind. Anomen knew he had said he would be praying, but the words would not come and he just ended up just sat on the dry stone boundary of Garren's meagre yard. The pony had already been given lodgings within the barn and Anomen was quite alone as he watched a black kite hang over the northern crags, hunting for its next meal.

'Sir Anomen?'

Anomen glanced up at the address, Ajantis sending him a polite nod as he crossed to him. 'You are finished with your prayers?'

'Y-Yes,' Anomen faltered, not liking to lie about such things, though the young paladin seemed not to notice as he shook his head ruefully.

'I would give prayer myself. Such a failing in my duty; those men were under our care and we led them to death.'

'You were not in command of this group,' Anomen reminded quietly, not liking to think of the knight who had died by his own hand.

'No…' agreed Ajantis, adding with some reluctance, 'Sir Aeslen was a good man, but prone to rashness in his pursuit of justice. I understand such a thirst served him well over the years, but perhaps a little caution here could have avoided this tragedy.'

'Indeed…' murmured Anomen, feeling the understatement did not deserve more of a reply and a silence fell between the two men, Ajantis turning his pale blond head upwards to gaze at the sky. Anomen had heard the paladin's name about the Order, though they had never met before this day: a Waterhavian noble who joined the Radiant Heart as squire but two years ago and was made paladin last Midwinter. Anomen wondered if he should feel more camaraderie towards a fellow Helmite, though the sentiment would not come, his heart as empty as that cold desolate plain. Ajantis glanced to him with a weak smile.

'You are very quiet, friend.'

'I was just thinking on the Order,' Anomen lied.

'I will admit, I have worries there myself. That we were most heinously tricked is true enough, but the slaughter of these men and the death of Sir Aeslen is a stain on our honour, and one that may mar our reputations within the Order for many years to come.'

Anomen had been about to say that as long as his superiors did not believe ill of him he hardly cared what anyone else thought, but he realised suddenly how like Fritha he would have sounded and the revelation struck him dumb. At his side, Ajantis was taking a more philosophical view.

'Ah, what will come, will come. We must keep faith in Helm, take justice from Jierdan's hide and all will be well.'

Anomen said nothing, just stared at him wondering how he had ever managed to talk away all his own troubles with promises of vengeance and prayer. Before them, the bang of the door, Valygar striding across the yard towards them.

'Ajantis, Adril is awake now. He is asking for you.'

'My thanks; I should go and speak with him.'

The paladin dropped from the wall, Valygar waiting until Ajantis had entered the house before he began.

'Are you-' he cut himself off with a humourless snort, 'I had been about to finish, 'well', but why waste my breath? Are any of us? We have murdered men who were trying only to defend their lands –however we were tricked, they are still dead.'

'Indeed,' Anomen agreed sullenly, knowing his spite was unwarranted even as he added, 'I would I had Sir Ajantis's faith. A simple prayer to Helm: a cure-all for the soul.'

And his rancour had not gone unnoticed.

'That is a bitter disparagement of the act from a man of your faith, cleric!'

'I know. And I shame myself to say it, but my heart is still heavy with the feeling. I have murdered men and I cannot even bring myself to pray for them.'

Valygar was frowning. 'You are losing your faith?'

'No…' Anomen answered slowly, glad for the directness of his question making him finally assess his feelings. 'I live my life in Helm's ideals; I worship Him because I believe in His teachings and in the values for which He stands, but I can no longer just sing some hymn to the glory of His name and feel that everything will work out for the best. Perhaps, it is as you say; the gods do not care, at least not in any way we can understand.' Anomen turned back to the sky, his eyes finding again the soaring kite. 'My faith used to be the answer to everything, now it just helps me endure the questions.'

'Perhaps, that is as it should be,' said Valygar stoically. The knight just sighed, resigned to feeling wretched for a good while longer.

Before them, the bang of the door sounded once more. Anomen glanced back, expecting Ajantis or one of the others and was surprised to see Fritha there, leaning heavily on Jaheira's staff and well wrapped up in coat and cloak. Anomen was on his feet instantly, Valygar exchanging a polite nod with the girl as they passed each other, the ranger making himself scarce and returning to the house as Fritha arrived at his side.

'Hello, Anomen.'

'Fritha, dearest, should you be out here?'

'Well, should or shouldn't, I am. Oh, don't fret,' she scolded at his worried look, 'I'm all closed up and tightly bound, plus…' she smiled, pulling a large splinter of wood from her pocket, 'I've a souvenir.'

Anomen just tutted at her, still frowning as he helped her take a seat on the wall before returning to his place next to her, Fritha letting him arrange his cloak over both of them with a minimum of eye rolling.

'So, how are you feeling, Fritha?'

She shrugged, undoing his last few moments' work as one corner of his cloak slipped from her shoulder.

'A bit sore; Jaheira covered the wound with that numbing paste of hers. My head is killing me from the ether, though. But, bar that and me having a hole in my stomach I could fit my own hand in, I'm fine.'

'You speak of it so lightly.'

'The pain was intense, but fleeting. I have certainly had worse in my time.'

'Irenicus,' he confirmed, a faint sick feeling bubbling within his stomach as he thought of the girl at the wizard's mercies, but Fritha merely shrugged again.

'Yes, I suppose.'

'You suppose? Fritha, he tortured you!'

'I know I said he tortured me, but it didn't feel like torture. Well, I mean, of course, it felt like torture, but he always called them experiments… I think they were too, and the knowledge somehow made it easier to bear. Like soon he would find out what he needed to know and it would be over.'

Anomen frowned. 'Over? How so?'

'That he would release me, or kill me. I didn't really mind which at certain times. Don't get me wrong,' she smiled at his horrified look, 'it did affect me… when we'd first left, I was petrified by the idea that he would somehow come back for me. I used to awake all in a start, half-expecting to find myself on the straw-strewn metal floor of that cage. But time passed and the fears waned. He is imprisoned in this asylum, as is Imoen, though I doubt he has anyone who cares enough to go and fetch him out. But how are you?' she continued with a concerned frown, 'Are you worried what the Order are going to say about all of this?'

'We were tricked; it was not our fault and I do not believe the Order will see differently.'

'Then why are you still sat out here alone?'

'I- I did not want to be in that house, with its stink of blood and ether.' He dipped his face, feeling foolish. 'I cannot bear it when you are wounded.'

Fritha smiled. 'Well, I can't say I much like it either.'

'No, I… you are so alive, Fritha, you survive so much; foolish though it is, I come to think of you as invincible –that harm will always just pass you by. I do not know what I would do if you were…' He trailed off and she patted his hand gently.

'Best not to think on such things, Anomen, when they are usually outside of our control.'

Anomen was staring at her, a strange light to his eyes as though he was very far away; the complete reverse to his face, which seemed to be growing closer by the moment. Fritha felt her heart begin to quicken, seemingly frozen by her own indecision as he closed in, and she could feel his warm breath against her face when a shout split the air.

Anomen whipped round. 'It was from behind the house!'

'Go on then!' snapped Fritha, practically shoving him off the wall, 'I can't run like this!'

The man was gone, drawing his mace as he pounded across the yard, Fritha following him at a hurried limp and she rounded the house to find the backyard surrounded by a half-dozen orcs, a scarlet-robed mage at their centre. Her own companions were arranged before the house, Anomen just before her, while Aerie and Jaheira were at back door, the wounded Fashir sat on the back step, Ajantis stood next to him with Lewis. The mage had been answering Jaheira's demands as to his identity, though his attention shifted to her the instant Fritha appeared around the corner. He smiled.

'Ah and so she arrives, the true prey of this hunt. Lord Jierdan sends his greetings, Fritha.'

'What? Me?' she cried as all eyes turned to her, 'What possible quarrel could Jierdan have with me? I don't even know the man.'

'He has his reasons and perhaps he will share them with you when he has finished ruining your reputation.'

'Ruining my reputation?' Fritha snorted with a wild disbelief, 'Oh, ow, ow -don't make me laugh, it hurts. And how exactly does he hope to do that? Everyone already knows I'm a Bhaalspawn.'

Everyone in the city that was, the stifled gasps and shared looks of those about them indicating it was still news to some. Fritha frowned, her temper rising. 'All this, the death of all those people for some slight I don't even recall? If he's that angry with me, why not just kill me?'

The mage sniffed at this talk of such unsophisticated revenge.

'Death is retribution that can be enjoyed only once and Lord Jierdan now watches with amusement as your reputation lies in tatters and you die a public death over and over. I wonder how far Garren's goodwill will stretch when he finds you have lost his only child.'

'No!' cried Fritha, lunging forward to grab the boy, but the mage was too quick, Lewis disappearing in a puff of acid green smoke. The mage was gone as well, leaving the orcs to their imminent deaths, the time they had spent speaking allowing the rest of her friends a chance to move around from the front of the house. It was slaughter. The yard was a chaos of bodies and blood, the orcs no match for their numbers or skill. The place where the mage had stood was clear of both though, a charred circle burnt onto the stony ground, a neat scroll of parchment lain innocently within. Valygar tapped it with his blade's tip before seemingly deciding it was no threat, the man stooping to catch it up and hand it straight to Fritha.

'It's addressed to you.'

Fritha broke the seal to unfurl the roll of parchment, eyes flying over the spidery hand. 'It says if we want to see the boy alive again, we must face Jierdan at the northern ruins -whatever they are.'

'There are the ruins of an ancient temple just to the northeast of here,' provided Ajantis, 'barely a half hour's walk at a good pace.'

'Good. Gather your arms and assemble in the front yard; we leave in a quarter hour.'

'What?' cried Jaheira, already at her arm, 'You are not going! Fritha, you can barely walk!'

Fritha clenched her hand about the parchment, drawing resolve from it; there was no way she was being left behind in this.

'Don't exaggerate; I can walk fine!'

'Fritha-'

'No, I am going! The note was addressed to me. Jierdan's quarrel, all this, is directed at me and he's not going to be satisfied until he's crowed about his vengeance to my face.'

It seemed no one could argue with that and it was decided, their group dividing once more, Fashir and Adril to stay at the house to keep an eye on the still unconscious Wilhelm and await Garren's return, while Ajantis joined her own companions in this long overdue meeting with Jierdan. They were gathering in the front yard, Ajantis leading Fritha to just beyond the gate and raising a hand to the two broken pillars that just crested the north-eastern cliffs, both the same pale brown stone as the rest of the Windspears, and Fritha wondered if she would have even noticed them, if the paladin had not pointed them out.

'There, my lady, the ruins have their entrance in a small ravine just beyond those cliffs.'

'Then that is where we go.'

Their group set off, Jaheira's staff now returned to the druid, Fritha taking the aid of a long pole, likely a spare handle to a rake or other tool, that Minsc had found for her in the barn. The journey was still hard though, the pass up through the cliffs narrow and steep, Valygar and Minsc scouting ahead to check for ambushes and it was at least an hour later before they were stood before the temple mouth.

It had clearly been an impressive building once and, in a way, it still was, a huge archway set into the very cliffs, draconic characters decorating the curve, though they were too worn to make out. The two stone pillars that Ajantis had shown her were either side of it and stood free of the entrance, both of a thickness that made Fritha suspect they had once risen to a height well above the cliffs, a marker for the temple that could have been seen for miles around. Before each was a shorter pedestal set with the bust of some arcane creature, both so worn by wind and rain Fritha could not identify them, though she was pretty sure that at one point they had borne a lot of teeth.

The two stone doors were off their hinges, fallen haphazardly across the entrance in such a way as to leave a narrow gap that all could fit through, though some more easily that others.

'Why here?' whispered Aerie of no one particular as she followed Minsc into the gloom of the hallway beyond. 'If he is a lord, why not have us meet him at some secluded house or lodge? Why some drafty old temple?'

'Boo says secrets are not secrets once another knows of them.'

'Indeed,' agreed Ajantis, 'houses and lodges need hands to maintain them; I doubt he would wish for his people to discover he is using kidnapping and terror to suppress those he should serve.'

Fritha followed them along the wide corridor, the air dry and cold, her feet rasping on the sandy tiles where the dust had been blown in from outside by the whining winds. A few paces more and the hall opened out to a large square room, another doorway directly opposite, while two staircases either side of them swept up to the gallery that ran about the edge of the floor above, the balcony supported by four large pillars carved in the likeness of men with spears, swords and, strangest of all, wings.

'Ah, listen to that!' exclaimed the tiefling, 'There are better acoustics here than in the theatre!' He grinned, drawing a deep breath to call out over the room. 'Ladies and gentlemen!'

'Keep your voice down!' hissed Jaheira angrily; Haer'Dalis turned a puzzled frown on the druid.

'Why? This Jierdan knows we are to attend him; it is only courtesy to let him know we are here. Hello there?'

A low growl answered him.

All heads whipped to the right-hand balcony to greet the flurry of arrows. Anomen instantly pulled Fritha under his shield, the man rough in his haste, Aerie throwing a barrier over herself, Jaheira and Haer'Dalis, while Minsc, Valygar and Ajantis were already pounding up the steps to dispatch the small group of orcs. The creatures were ill-equipped to fight at close range and the fight was over before it had really begun, the men walking back down to the ground floor, Anomen already crouched before Fritha, the girl perched on the plinth of the nearest pillar and grey with the pain as she pressed her stomach.

'Ah, Fritha, I am sorry, dearest –here, let me see.'

'No, it's all right,' she gasped, waiting for the fierce ache to subside, 'just let me catch my breath.'

Jaheira watched them with a frown, clearly biting her tongue against an 'I told you so'.

'Why these pointless attacks?' cried Aerie, seemingly distressed by the slaughter, 'Those orcs must have known they could not match us.'

Jaheira nodded. 'It is as though this Jierdan does not want to stop our progress, merely make it a frustration.'

'Boo says it is working,' growled Minsc.

'We should set to exploring this place,' said Ajantis, Valygar a step ahead and knelt in the mouth of the doorway opposite.

'And these should help. Tracks,' he explained to the group that had gathered about him, the dusty tiles at his feet decorated with a pattern of sweeps and scuffs. 'Someone was dragged this way.'

Fritha felt her stomach drop. 'Dragged?'

Valygar smiled slightly. 'Yes, kicking and screaming by the look of it.'

Fritha felt weak with relief, Ajantis frowning into darkness before them.

'It could lead to a trap; we should be on our guard.'

It seemed there was little left to guard against though. They followed the tracks, moving deeper into that maze of gloomy corridors until there was not even the distant howling of the wind to break the stillness, the silent hallways rather eerie in the flickering glow of their werelights. They passed rooms now and then, and even a kitchen that looked to have been used recently -likely by the orcs from the smell, though they met with no more of the creatures and Fritha was just beginning to worry that this was all some elaborate trap to get them to leave Garren's house unattended for some nefarious reason, when a cry echoed in the room before her.

Fritha quickened her pace, hurrying after those who were already through the doorway to find herself in a small plain room, two cells set into the right wall, young Lewis pressed eagerly against the bars of the first.

'Oh, Mistress Jaheira and Sir Anomen, oh, I'm so glad you came!'

'Lewis, are you unharmed?' asked Jaheira. The lad nodded.

'Yes, my lady, though the door is locked and the mage said only he could open it.'

'Boo says we will see about that!'

'No, Minsc, it will likely be warded; you'll only hurt yourself.'

But it seemed Jaheira's words had held enough sting, the Rashemi looking broken-hearted as he lowered his boot.

'I don't understand it,' Lewis continued, trying to point to the dark archway at the end of the cells. 'The mage just put me in here hours ago and then disappeared off through that door. I haven't seen anyone since.'

'Don't worry, Lewis,' Fritha assured him, pushing a well-padded arm through the bars to pat his shoulder, 'We'll be back with the key, I promise.'

Small as the doorway was, the room it opened on to was vast, a great gloomy cavern, the only feature a set of wide stone steps that led down into the darkness. Down and down they made their descent, walking for so long Fritha felt they should emerge in the Underdark itself. It was certainly dark enough, the light of the room above them long faded, their werelights extinguished to ensure none were alerted to their presence, when, at last, the glimmer of torches below them and they stepped down into a huge chamber, the ceiling so high as to be lost in shadow, two rows of great stone pillars disappearing up into gloom.

Fritha's eyes caught immediately on the scarlet robes of the mage, the girl initially pleased to find him alone, when the dark shape behind him moved. It was something so large, her eyes had disregarded it at first glance, the torchlight catching on the glimmer of scales as the form twisted and unfurled to finally rear up into an enormous red dragon. Everyone stopped as one, frozen in their shock; a reaction that seemed only to amuse the creature, the mage trotting along next to him as the dragon moved his gargantuan bulk over to them on colossal clawed feet.

'Welcome, Fritha, you came as I wanted. I am Lord Jierdan, though you may use my given name,' he smiled broadly, showing both rows of sharp ivory teeth, 'Firkraag.'

Ajantis was astounded. 'You are Lord Jierdan?'

'Indeed, I am, knightling. Are you still so bent on taking your justice?'

Ajantis looked suddenly even more keen on showing the creature the error of his evils, Fritha forestalling the predictable tirade.

'If you are Lord Jierdan then why did you bring me here? Why trick us into fighting with the militia?'

Firkraag chuckled amiably. 'Why, to ruin your reputation, of course! Did Conster not tell you?'

A brief glance to the mage, the man hastening to make his reply. 'Master, I-'

'Though all did not quite go as I had hoped,' continued Firkraag over him, 'all the militia were supposed to die at your hands, leaving none to back up your tales of illusions and trickery, but once I saw you were in danger of dying, godchild, I had to lift the illusion. It is not much of a game if we lose the main player, after all.'

The aching hole in Fritha's stomach had never felt like such a blessing.

'Well, yes, but why did you want to ruin me?'

The dragon sighed, seemingly rather bored, as though the fun part was clearly over with, if they had reached the exposition.

'For my amusement, for my curiosity, for my memory of transgressions long since past.'

'Transgressions?'

'Indeed, godchild. Gorion raised you; he was as much your father as anyone. He was also an adventurer in his day and crossed my path long ago, he and his Harper friends -I still bear the scars of that meeting. He is beyond my revenge, dead as he is, so I settle for the next best thing. I can torment his spirits by tormenting you. Wherever he is now, he is seething.'

Fritha sincerely doubted that after what Irenicus and Sarevok had managed between them, Gorion would even be sparing the dragon a thought, though she kept that to herself.

'That's it? That's the reason? Then why go to all this trouble? You could have ruined me similarly in the city.'

'Yes, but I did so wish to meet you in my true form, Fritha. I had even toyed with the idea of forgetting the transgression, but it was your other father who spurred me on. You are a Child of Bhaal. What a fascinating subject to study; I will admit I anticipate your future conflicts with great interest. But for now, I will taunt you no more. You may take the boy and go.'

The objections to this were immediate.

'But, Master-!'

'We are just to leave?'

'One at a time please, children,' cut in Fritha, turning to the paladin at her side, 'Ajantis?'

'My lady, we cannot let this monster live!'

'Are you so ready to face death again?' Fritha laughed, Jaheira adding sternly, 'Now is not the time or place for this battle and we have a duty to return the boy to his father.'

Ajantis seemed to wrestle with himself a moment before he slowly nodded, blue eyes blazing as he returned them to Firkraag. 'We will return for you, dragon!'

Firkraag looked predictably terrified.

'Yes, yes, now what was it you were bleating about, Conster?'

'The boy, master,' whined the mage like some petulant child who had been promised a treat, 'you said I was to keep him as a slave. These orcs do more harm than good in my lab, the clumsy beasts!'

'Hmm, did I agree to that?' teased Firkraag, 'I suppose I did. Very well, you will fight for the boy. Let the winner take him.'

Valygar had released an arrow before Conster could even raise his hands. Fritha sent the ranger a wry look.

'You were just waiting for that, weren't you?'

Valygar just laughed.

'Well, that decided the thing,' Firkraag murmured, lowering his head to examine the shaft that was sticking from the chest of who had once been his mage, the dragon sounding rather disappointed by the lack of spectacle, 'The door should be open now. Farewell.'

xxx

At least one of them was happy. Garren was back at the house by the time they returned, the man overjoyed at being reunited with his son. Lewis himself seemed quite unharmed for his ordeal as they all gathered in the main room of the lodge, the boy laughing as his father embraced him for what was likely the twentieth time and affectionately ruffled his hair.

'Ah, my son, to think I almost lost you and now you are back here safely –well, as safe as we could ever be with the threat of such a monster hanging over us…'

'You will not have to suffer such for much longer,' assured Ajantis grimly, 'I will send word to the Order as soon as I am returned to the fort. We will take a whole battalion to end Firkraag's evil!'

'Indeed, I will rejoice the day when it comes, but for now let us take joy in this small victory. Come, tonight we celebrate!' Garren announced, moving off into the kitchen to no doubt begin his preparations. Aerie smiled as Haer'Dalis snaked an arm about her, the elf happy all had worked out so well for the pair, her attention drawn to her side as Fritha let her bag drop from her shoulder with a wince. Anomen frowned.

'How is your stomach?'

'Ah, more stiff than anything,' she dismissed, though the man clearly had no intention of just taking her word for it.

'Here, let me.'

And Aerie watched as he laid a hand over it, pressing here and there as the girl winced and hissed.

'It is bleeding more heavily than I'd like, the bandages should be changed again before you sleep.'

'I bet you say that to all the girls,' Fritha muttered flatly, 'come on then.'

'Ah, perhaps,' Anomen faltered, glancing to Aerie before he seemed to realise Fritha had already disappeared into the bedroom, 'Ah, right.'

Aerie hid her laugh in her sleeve, everyone settling down in the main room as Lewis helped his father by serving the tea. Adril and Jude had already been out on Garren's return to collect their comrades, the bodies lain respectfully in the barn to await the time they could be returned to their families, and even in those grim circumstances spirits were high. Fritha and Anomen returned not long afterwards, and the group shared the tale of Lewis's capture and their meeting with Firkraag with the astounded men of the militia. The general opinion amongst the men seemed to hold that once this news got about, Jierdan would be accepted as lord of the Windspears no longer, Fashir hinting that perhaps Garren might want to take up his old title, though the older man said nothing, just returned to the kitchen and his cooking.

Garren's means may have been poor, but his hospitality was second to none, the man setting a feast of rabbit, pigeon and other game before them, as well as breads and cheeses, and Aerie wondered if the man had any food left in his pantry. A fire was roaring in the grate, the party growing louder as the ale Garren brewed in the warmth of his barn was shared out. Aerie though had decided to stay with the tea she had been drinking earlier, the elf rather enjoying the raucous banter about her, though it was not for all, it seemed. Fritha was sat next to her in the circle and glaring into her untouched dish, seemingly wilting, though whether from the heat or the good humour, Aerie did not like to guess.

'Fritha, are you all right?'

The girl glanced up distractedly. 'Sorry? Oh, fine, fine. Just a bit warm. I might go and stand in the kitchen for a moment.'

Fritha rose, leaving the noise of the main room for the relative peace of the kitchens, though with Garren still fussing over the oven, and Lewis filling a jug with the next batch of homebrew, it was hardly the quiet she sought. The back door was open, the cold air pleasant against her hot face, the dark yard beyond promising much more and before she knew it she had grabbed up the worn old coat that was hanging on the hook by the door and had slipped outside, the girl walking around the side of the house and past the barn to the front yard. And there she stood, gazing up at more stars than she could count in a thousand lifetimes, feeling small and insignificant and full of tears. Distant mountains loomed on the horizon, the cliffs they had been stood upon just hours before black against the night's sky. An explosion of laughter in the home behind her, bright and warm, and suddenly she was off, marching through the open gate, the cold wind whipping around her as she set off up rocky slope.

…

'Who goes there?' he boomed, his voice all growl and smoky bluster, 'Do not think to surprise me, I can hear your footsteps.'

Fritha smiled to herself, at last stepping from the shadows of that gloomy stairwell to let the light of the torches fall upon her.

'Hello, Firkraag, it is just I.'

'You?' he growled, though there was no anger in it, the dragon lowering his head to get a better look at her as she limped down the last few steps into that vast chamber. 'What are you doing back here?'

Fritha smiled. 'I just wanted to talk to you, I suppose.'

'Well, I bare you nothing but ill will.'

'Really? I wouldn't have thought you'd have cared enough even for that.'

Firkraag watched her, his look unreadable. 'I could kill you.'

But Fritha just shrugged her acceptance of this risk and the dragon chuckled slightly, narrowing a large yellow eye at her.

'Well, I am surprised to see you here and it is rare that one as old and powerful as I gets to enjoy the sensation, so I suppose I could tolerate your presence -for a short time. So, godchild,' Firkraag continued, two rows of glossy white teeth bared in a smug smile, 'why have you returned? To cry about how I have wronged you perhaps?'

'Wronged me?' repeated Fritha, 'How so? Oh, I will not deny you encouraged the situation. I mean, you made us and those men look as orcs and you took away Garren's child. But you did not make those men attack us and the child was merely a device to lure us here and he was returned home safe and sound.'

'Do you forget so easily your ruined reputation?'

Fritha smiled gently. 'As I already told your mage, I'm afraid the Harpers rather beat you to that.'

'And the coin I promised you?'

'Yes,' Fritha sighed, 'of all your betrayals that one stung the most. But it is pointless to stay angry about it, not unless I plan to be angry at the Cowled Wizards for taking Imoen or at the Shadow Thieves for charging a dragon's hoard for her return. I haven't the energy to maintain such pointless ire; it would be like raging at the ocean when your ship sinks.'

'You may be indifferent, godchild,' Firkraag pressed, clearly still trying to find some open wound to stab at, 'but this is all but another trial in Garren's torment.'

'He can come up here and get himself chewed up then! I'm tired of fighting other people's battles for them. Besides,' Fritha continued, calm once more, 'Ajantis has plans to return to the Order and bring a whole battalion up here for you –just to give you fair warning.'

Firkraag shifted his wings in what could have been a shrug. 'Such an outcome was not unexpected… Why are you here, Fritha?'

'I don't know. I was stood outside looking at the cliffs, dark against the indigo sky, the broken pinnacles of your temple like black sails in that sea of stars, and I just thought to come and visit you. We killed your pet mage and the few orcs left are hardly likely to provide witty repartee; even dragons can get lonely, or at least bored… just as essentially good people can sometimes feel an unbearable hatred for their friends.' Fritha dropped her face, ashamed of her honesty as she admitted, 'Their laughter is like knives sometimes; hypocritical, I know, since I laugh more than anyone.'

'But you're only laughing because you know what the joke is…'

Fritha sighed and sank wearily onto the steps behind her, feeling like she would never have the energy to stand again. Firkraag watched her with fathomless yellow eyes.

'And do they know of this? The druid, the witch… the knight,' he chuckled as Fritha's head whipped up, 'Yes, I noticed him, even in the brief time you were here in my domain… He will betray you, you know?'

Fritha laughed lightly. 'Betray me? How can he when he doesn't owe me anything? We are destined to part just as soon as Imoen is back with me; Anomen knows this as well as I.'

But Firkraag just smiled, broad and slow, leaving her with the distinct impression he knew different.

'Ah, yes, Imoen; I know of your search for her, but if you think the mages will relinquish her so easily you are mistaken. Though I do wonder what you intend once you have retrieved her.'

Fritha sent the dragon a contemplative look. 'You already know what will happen, don't you?'

'I have lived a long time, I can make an educated guess.'

'Then why ask if you already know?'

Firkraag smiled. 'I know what will happen, yes, but what you think will happen remains a mystery. What do you plan?'

Fritha gave a wistful trill of laughter. 'They say the gods laugh when they hear your plans.'

'Indeed they do, child, but humour me. What are yours once you have your friend?'

'What do you think?'

'I think… you will flee.'

'You are damn right I will! So far and fast Death himself couldn't catch me!'

They both laughed at that, Fritha's laughter almost lost in Firkraag's growling guttural chuckles, the sound rising up with the haze of smoke from his nostrils.

'You are quite the cleverest mortal I have come across in a long while. Yes, I can see much of your father in you.'

'Er, which one?'

'I speak of the Harper, Gorion. Though I wonder now, how pleased he would be with that association.'

Fritha barked a bitter laugh. 'Ha! Don't even get me started on the bloody Harpers. But what of Gorion? He never mentioned any fights with dragons, though he did have quite a bad burn scarring the skin all up his right leg. He told me he had once rolled into a campfire when very drunk, but it was part of a lecture I was receiving for trying to break into the local tavern's cellar with Imoen, so I was never really sure if it was the truth or not.'

Firkraag was chuckling again, the smug look back on his face.

'Yes, that was I, godchild. At the time, I had made a lair up in the Stormhorn Mountains, convincing a few of the local orc tribes I was a god of ancient power, and I was soon quite comfortable lain in my cave watching my hoard grow as the orcs pillaged the local villages and farmsteads to tithe their spoils to me. Harpers came to investigate the reason behind the orcs so far unprecedented unity, and when they discovered it was I who was behind the foolish creatures' renewed aggression, they laid a trap for me. They mapped the caverns that were my lair, blocking off all routes of escape before making their attack. They fought hard, pressing me back into the caverns where I still believed I could make my escape if need be, forcing me deeper into the mountain into the cave at the centre of my lair, and it was then I saw their true intent. The only other way out flooded and barrels of black powder set all about the cave, enough to bring down the whole roof if set off together. But that cavern would not be my tomb and I renewed my fight! The Harpers had surrounded me, their weapons the maddening bite of insects as their fellows moved to light the barrels. I knew the chance was slim, but I would not be vanquished as I closed upon the barrel nearest to the only way out and drew a great breath to set it ablaze myself. All scattered from my path, desperate to get away before my fires consumed them, only one foolish enough to try to stop me. That boy, Gorion, the mageling stood there, his staff aloft. Impudent wretch! His magic may have shielded the barrel, but it could not cover them both, and I had the last laugh as I swept past him, his fellows too occupied to halt me as they rushed to douse him, the lad struggling to strip from his flaming robes.'

Fritha knew she probably should not be laughing, but the image of the young Gorion making such a reckless mistake -indeed, one worthy of herself- had warmed her, and she had never felt quite such an affinity with the man as then, as she snickered and laughed at his folly. Fritha sighed, her laughter finally faded, the girl dusting off her knees and shrugging the overly large coat back onto her shoulders as she eased herself to her feet.

'Ah, I should likely get back to the others. They will only worry if they notice me gone. Goodnight, Firkraag.'

The dragon said nothing, just curled his tail about him and settled back down upon the cold stone tiles to sleep or scheme or mull over ages past. Such a rare ancient creature in that world of growing cities and changing times, where the old ways seemed to be a dying breed, and, in spite of everything, Fritha hoped he would be gone when the Order next arrived.