Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', 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

Beyond the sea

Imoen awoke with a cry, the screams of the dying still echoing in her ears, every night finding her back inside that glass chamber and surrounded by those faceless men who begged for mercy as their lives were slowly torn from them, one by one. She lay still, her heart rattling as she fought to get her bearings, so used, as she was, to opening her eyes on that featureless grey ceiling, and it took a moment for her to realise she was no longer in her cell, or even that room back at the inn, but on a ship bound for Athkatla. The end of their journey, at least for some, and just the beginning of hers.

She was not alone in her nightmares, it seemed, a glance to Fritha showing the same twisted distress upon her face as her friend slept and Imoen contemplated waking her, though perhaps, considering how she'd arrived to bed the previous evening, it would be better to let her sleep.

The deck was cold and blustery, the first of Hammer dawning grey and overcast just as the last day of Nightal had closed. To think she had spent a whole autumn and half the winter closed inside those walls. Imoen smiled, crossing the almost empty deck to the prow and leaning over the edge until she couldn't feel her face for the cold. In spite of everything, it was good to be outside again, to feel the wind tear at her hair and tear up her eyes as she gazed out across the hazy ocean.

'Young Imoen?'

Imoen whipped around, hands raised instinctively, though she dropped them limply to her sides as she came face to chest with the tall, broad figure of one of her few remaining friends.

'Oh, it's you Minsc -and Boo, too, of course,' she added to the small hamster that was watching her from the safety of the man's belt pouch. 'Morning, you two.'

'Morning, indeed; you are awake early, young Imoen.'

The girl shrugged. 'Couldn't sleep. How about you?'

'Boo said to get up, so I am up.'

'Yes…' Imoen sighed, not really having a reply to that and continuing to the creature in question, 'and how have you been, Boo?'

Minsc's voice was uncharacteristically hushed. 'He has been worried for you, Imoen, just as I was. And we are worried still.'

'Ah, don't fret about me, Minsc,' she dismissed airily, his concern somehow making the ache inside her all the harder to suppress. 'I'm all right; just keep smiling, as Winthrope would say. I was just thinking about how nice it is to be outside again, in the sunlight and the air -I can't wait for the spring; I'm nearly as pasty as Fritha!'

Minsc regarded her levity with an uncertain frown. 'Boo asks what the asylum was like.'

'He saw it, didn't he? What does he think it was bloody like?'

Imoen winced at his hurt expression. What had happened to her?

'It was hard, Minsc… when I first arrived, I was so afraid I didn't dare leave my cell even when we were allowed to –the better patients were allowed to roam free between sunrise and sunset. There were some who were never allowed to leave their rooms, though they were kept on the lower floors. The mages who ran the place -they called themselves coordinators- well, they were all right, for the most part. They were interested in me, because I didn't know much magic, but some tests they did when I first arrived seemed to show there was some great, untapped power in me. They thought I was a latent sorcerer, or maybe dragon-kin.' She snorted humourlessly. 'Course, we all know what I am now… The coordinators would have me learn spells, use me in experiments with other patients –it wasn't so bad, I suppose. And I knew it was just till you lot came for me –I never doubted that, even at the end…'

Minsc smiled kindly, nodding for her to continue.

'As for day-to-day stuff…' Imoen frowned; trying to remember how it had been before he had arrived and her world had turned upside down. 'Life was very… ordered. Everyday the same routine: up, dress, eat the same food, at the same times, a few hours spent in tests, the rest just rattling around those corridors bored out of my mind. But I made some friends… A couple of pirates who Desharik had sent there to disappear, though Olarn got sick and died within that first month I was there– the mages hardly cared if you weren't something interesting to study. The other, Memita, got hit by a stray spell in a fight between an inmate and one of the coordinators, and went very odd. She was taken away for tests. I never saw her again. As for the other inmates, well, there was poor Aphril who could see across the planes; she spent most of the time in her cell raving, but she was all right if you got her on a lucid day. And Tiax, this mad gnome who seemed to think he was a god –he was pretty fun, especially to tease. And there was a little girl, Dili who could shape change into anyone after just one glance; I suppose she's dead now. They're all dead: coordinators, inmates, everyone. He killed them all.'

Imoen gazed down a the ocean that swelled and rolled beside them, letting the wind steal her tears and the cold ease the painful lump in her throat. Minsc said nothing, perhaps he had nothing to say, or perhaps he understood her need to continue now she had begun.

'It all happened about a month ago. Wanev, the head of the asylum had gathered our floor in the common room to announce something about, oh, Oghma only knows, I never paid attention to the bloated windbag, when these two coordinators teleport in screaming that he's loose and Irenicus is just there before us all, firing off spells and ranting about how he couldn't be caged. Then… more experiments. The mages who didn't die there became his subjects, more men arriving everyday with Bohdi and those vampires. He never hurt me, you know, never even touched me. But he would show me things…' She trailed off, unwilling to give voice to the flash of images; the blood and sinew, her eyes unable to tear away or even close upon the horrors he had showed her. 'Then- Then, a tenday ago, he just tells me I'm ready -that I'm a Bhaalspawn and he's going to take my divine soul to cure his sister.' Imoen shrugged. 'And he does.'

A large hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

'You are back with us now, young Imoen. That mage will pay and all he stole will be returned.'

Imoen nodded, her forced cheer a shield no longer as she faced the grim reality of her rescue.

'Yeah, but part of me wonders if I haven't already lost. This group… I don't know any of you.'

'You know Minsc and Boo, and good Jaheira! And you know Fritha -she is your sister now, young Imoen,' he reminded, clearly attributing some grave significance to the fact they shared a father. Imoen sighed.

'Yeah, I suppose. But we were always so much more than that. We were friends, you know? It wasn't like being related, we had a choice and we chose each other. At least we did,' she added sullenly, their evening with the sailors merely highlighting the distance that still hung between them. 'I'm not sure Fritha would choose me anymore. Before she was my friend, the one I messed about with at the back, while the rest of you got on with the important stuff. Now she's the leader and I- I'm just someone else to be bossed about.'

Minsc shook his head gravely. 'Fritha is our leader, but she is also our friend. She came far and did much to get you back –Boo says she would not want to lose you now.'

Imoen dipped her face, recalling similar words back in the asylum as the man had dragged her away from screaming Anomen stupid, Minsc explaining that Fritha needed a friend, not more conflict in a wise, yet firm manner she would never before have attributed to the Rashemi; perhaps they had all had to grow up in her absence. Imoen raised her head to send him a lopsided grin.

'Unwaveringly hopeful as usual, eh, Minsc? Right, I'm off to see if anyone's in the galley yet; perhaps I can filch some bread before that grumpy bastard of a cook wakes up.' She paused, half-turned to go as she added, 'And don't tell the others what I said, will you, Minsc? About Spellhold, I mean. They can't do anything now, and it would only upset them.'

'We will keep your secret.'

She smiled and nodded, crossing the deck to disappear below. Minsc turned back to the sea, a thumb gently stroking the silken fur of the small hamster still peeking from his belt pouch.

'I agree, Boo; all debts will be paid, in time.'

xxx

At first, there was just pain, and of such an intensity that Fritha would swear later she had managed to starting feeling it before she even came round. She opened her eyes a crack and instantly shut them again as the pain flared white-hot. Her tongue felt swollen and dry, her mouth almost aching with thirst and this alone eventually drove her to moving again. With narrowed eyes, Fritha finally managed to take in her surroundings. She was in the cabin she shared with Imoen, though there was no sign of the lively girl in sight -probably for the best considering the circumstances. Her eyes felt hot and sore, prompting her to shut them again, but this could only be borne for a few minutes before the movement of the ship began to make her feel nauseous.

Fritha couldn't remember much of last night after she left the sailors. Talking to Anomen and then Finnis and then… just a jumble of images that didn't really make much sense. She certainly couldn't recall getting to bed, but here she was, and fully clothed, too, which she took as an immensely good sign, and Fritha concluded Anomen had likely brought her below decks.

A sudden flash behind her eyes; the face before her losing focus as she leaned in and she could feel her own breath reflected back against her face as her lips closed to his. Fritha felt her stomach drop. She hadn't! She couldn't have! It was a trick of the mind brought on by the drink… wasn't it? She just couldn't have kissed Anomen!

But, no, soothed the more rational half of herself, there would be no way, considering how drunk she was, that Anomen would have accepted so much as a peck on the cheek. Was it not then even more embarrassing to have been refused by him? Fritha did a quick evaluation of the thing and mentally shook her head.

No, not even close.

There was a pitcher of water on the chest that was set between their beds and Fritha sat slowly, dipping a shaking hand in to rub the cold liquid up over her face before carefully settling the jug in her lap and raising it to her mouth. Oh, that first mouthful! No wine had ever tasted so sweet and she had to stop herself from gulping back the whole jug, aware that having too much liquid in her stomach would only make her feel worse, the girl pacing herself to drink the rest by small sips.

An hour or so later, Fritha had recovered to a point where movement was not such a problem, the girl staggering from her bed on unsteady legs to change her clothes and finally crawl up on deck. The sky was clear and the wind cold enough to banish the last of the haze that hung about her mind –unfortunately; her headache suddenly twice as fierce until she was not sure whether it was that or the biting wind that was bringing the tears to her eyes. Minsc and the women were gathered on the other side of the deck in the shelter of the aft deck, the collective glare fixing upon her as she appeared in the doorway.

Eh, now don't you worry about them. You don't need their approval anymore.

'Anymore,' she snorted darkly, 'I never had it.'

Her ears rang with a tinkling laugh.

Ah, you always were a funny one.

Fritha felt herself frown. She was used to hearing the voice; it had changed tones and accents over the years, but it had always been there, just another part of herself that could play the role of comforting friend when none others were to hand. But this voice…

It felt different, though not in anyway she could explain.

'You're not really Bhaal like Aerie thought, are you?'

A contemplative pause.

You know, petal, I'm not really sure. But I do know for certain that I have your best interests at heart and I want us both to survive. Is there really anything else you need to know?

'No, I don't suppose there is.'

Fritha glanced over to the others, the group looking no less worried after witnessing this unaccompanied exchange and she fancied she could taste their disapproval. The voice called them something that made Fritha giggle.

'Language, please!'

She left the doorway, moving to take up her usual place at the bows to watch the sea and wait for them to decide who was coming to give her that morning's telling-off, though the first to break her reverie was not one of her companions.

'Good morning there, m'lady; enjoying the sea air?'

And Fritha turned to find Saemon stood behind her, smiling in a way that put her in mind of a shark. Much of his original swagger seemed to have returned to him now he was back in command of his vessel, though his nose was still swollen and purple over the bridge, and the sight of it made her insides smile.

'That was quite the performance you gave us yester-eve,' he continued with a buoyant grin.

Ever the one to reward like with like, Fritha rejoined politely, 'What do you want, Havarian?'

Saemon wetted his lips nervously, though he seemed resolved to persist.

'M'lady, I know that our acquaintance so far hasn't exactly been on the best of terms, but I have something for you -to mend the breach, as it were.'

'Unless it's a new soul, I'm really not interested.'

He gave a tense laugh, producing from behind his back a long silver sword, the metal seeming to ripple with a misty light of its own.

'Here, m'lady, have you ever seen so fine a blade? And I would like you to have it, a peace offering of sorts.'

'I don't want it,' said Fritha bluntly.

'Come, m'lady, it-'

'You get that sword out of my face now, or I will sheath it in your stomach.'

If there was one thing Saemon knew, it was when to beat a hasty retreat. 'Ah, indeed, well, perhaps we can speak on this again later, m'lady. A good day to you.'

And he turned to leave, the captain nodding politely to the three women as he passed them, Jaheira, Imoen and Aerie on a heading straight for her.

Oh, and look who've come to lecture you now; it's Flopsy, Mopsey and Cottontail.

'Oh gods, what do they want?' Fritha muttered and she was not alone in her displeasure, the druid already frowning as she closed to her.

'Fritha, we-'

A pointed cough from Imoen. Jaheira sighed tersely.

'Aerie and I have been speaking to Anomen-'

'Anomen?' Fritha cried, quite forgetting the scorn she usually slathered upon that word in her surprise; she had been sure the first lecture of the day was going to be on the dangers of rum and pirates. 'What's he got to do with the price of fish?'

Aerie glanced to the woman next to her for a reassuring nod before venturing, 'We know you are probably still angry with him, Fritha, but we think you should give him another chance.'

'Oh, well, everyone is entitled to their opinion, I suppose,' Fritha snorted, making to return her attention to the sea and whirling back to them in sudden temper as she added, 'Did he ask you to come over here?'

'No, no,' Aerie hastened to assure her, 'we came ourselves.'

Fritha nodded sternly. 'Good. And to answer your question: no, I have no intention of giving him yet another chance.'

'But, Fritha,' the elf pressed earnestly, 'if you could only see him sat in the galley now, so despondent and miserable, and-'

'-no longer any concern of mine. I have made my feelings in this quite clear to Anomen -our relationship is over, though I do not see any reason why we cannot remain civil –at least until we reach the city and can part ways.'

There was not a diplomatic discussion yet that had not benefited from Jaheira wading in to it.

'Fritha, must you be so stubborn? He cares for you deeply and you yourself have been much happier these last few tenday.'

Fritha's eyes narrowed. 'And what would you know of it?'

'Well-'

'We saw-'

'You saw nothing! You were too busy wrapped up in your own problems, while you were just wrapped around Haer'Dalis's face.'

Imoen was laughing, Jaheira looking like she was just wrestling herself back from losing her temper, though Aerie was not so easily baited.

'We understand that he hurt you, Fritha,' she continued with that maddeningly calm air, 'but his contrition could not be more intense; if you would only-'

Fritha felt her anger rising.

'If I would only what? The one time, Aerie, the one time he couldn't make a mistake; the one time he couldn't act like a complete arse, but he did and I won't forgive it!'

'Fritha, the regret he feels, it is torture for him!'

'Well, you know what? I don't care. Oh, shouldn't I have said that?' she sneered. 'Well, it's true: I couldn't care less. You see, I've lost my soul and with my desire to be put upon by every fool between here and The Gate. Now, I am quite prepared to be civil with him as long as he doesn't start on with all that romantic nonsense, but that is it. If he still feels bad, then that is his own concern.'

'Fritha-!'

'Gods, give it a rest, Jaheira,' snapped Imoen, 'Fritha says she isn't putting up with him anymore, and she doesn't have to. Right, Fritha?' she crowed, ready for the assent, ready for the agreement that would confirm all was as it had always been: they two against the world. But it did not come.

Imoen glanced behind her, Fritha already stalked off and being welcomed into a small knot of sailors by the mast, the group laughing as one presented to her, on bended knee, the sari she had been dancing in the night before, another passing her a bottle of wine for her hangover. Imoen turned back to find Jaheira watching her, her eyes soft.

'Imoen-'

'Don't,' she muttered, the hot angry tears welling behind her eyes, 'Don't say a thing.'

Imoen would not be comforted or even spoken to after Fritha's abrupt departure, but she did consent to follow them back to the aft deck where the rest of their group eventually settled. And the remainder of the morning was passed in cards, Anomen the only one who did not join the games, the man instead staring out to sea, his back pointedly to the group of sailors gathered on the deck below, who were spending the time similarly with cards and dice, only more loudly with a lot more laughter and jeering.

Anomen stared out to the horizon, just letting that blue grey field of sea and sky blur into one meaningless void, the shouts and laughter from the deck below washing over him and almost ignored. Perhaps he would go below and make his worship again. It would be the third time that morning, the man just intoning prayer after prayer to the glory of Helm's name, going through the countless mantras he had learnt by heart those many years ago at the seminary, because it was only then, when knelt before his god, that he did not feel like the most wretched man in existence. Something in his subconscious started him back to the deck. His eyes had caught on something, a shape irregular enough to jar even as it blended in to the horizon, grey against grey. A cry from far above made him start; Anomen casting his gaze up to the young half-elf sat on lookout on the main top.

'Captain! Ship sighted off the starboard bow and bearing toward us. It bears no flag, sah.'

Saemon looked rather more rattled than would have usually been expected for a not so uncommon occurrence. 'No flag? Change course to outrun them, set new heading north-north-west.'

A furry of activity as sails were reset, but it was in vain, the vessel closing upon them at a speed that outpaced the wind, a ship of twisted bone that recalled to Anomen the astral prison from so many months ago. He would have been the first to admit he was not an experienced seafaring man, but he had never seen a ship like it and, from the number of men hanging over the rails below, they hadn't either. Anomen watched it approaching, his heart quickening with an unnamed fear as it drew closer and he noticed it was not even parting the water, but dashing a clear yard above the waves.

His eyes snapped back to the deck below, catching on that familiar head of ginger curls, Fritha leant over the rail with the other men and Anomen was about to shout for her to get up there that instant, but Havarian's yell cut him off.

'Men, ready your weapons! Prepare to be boarded.'

The ship was infused with a nervous energy, men running below to fetch swords and what little armour they had, others just drawing the long daggers and knives they carried with them always. His own group were on their feet by now, the seven of them pounding down the ladder to join the lines that were forming on the deck as the ship drew along side.

The crew were men, but only in the most basic sense of the word, a company of tall gaunt figures, their pale skin looking as yellow and rough as old vellum, dark hair drawn back in knots of various styles, the weak sunlight catching on ornate armour and swords. Their captain was the tallest of them all, the man leaping onto the thick rail of his ship, black eyes darting over their deck as he shouted across to them.

'Blade-Thieves! The Githyanki demand recompense! You have the relic of holies!'

Havarian made their reply, though Anomen noticed he did so from behind the rest of them.

'Your pardon, but I do not know what you are talking about. Speak clearly that I might understand,' he rejoined, trying to affect his usual air of innocence. It did not work.

'Understand that we see all that you do! You have trespassed and taken what is not yours.'

Further down the line, Fritha sighed audibly. 'Saemon, are there no bounds to your idiocy? You seem resolved to make an enemy of every powerful creature you encounter.'

Back on the Githyanki ship, the captain's scant patience had finally been exhausted. 'Enough! The sacred blade of the Githyanki is aboard this ship! Detection does not lie! All will perish for this insult!'

'Now, just wa-'

Saemon's stalling was lost in the guttural war cries, the Githyanki captain the first of his crew to make the leap between the ships, his rippling silver blade singing through the air as it cut down two sailors, before he had even hit the deck.

A roar went up, the sailors surging forward to avenge their brothers and the deck was a storm of clashes and screams as the two crews met in steel and blood, magic surging from the aft deck, where Imoen, Aerie and, strangely, Saemon were throwing their spells into the enemy.

Anomen swung his mace out, held in both hands in the absence of his shield and the Githyanki's blade was unable to deflect the force of the blow, his skull shattered but seconds later. The knight did not even watch him fall, his attention immediately redirecting as he cast his eyes over the disorder to find her. Fritha allied with the towering Daegul as they fought a well-armoured Githyanki warrior, the girl sending him staggering back with a brutal cut across the face and pressing forward even as Daegul finished him, the girl seeming bent on fighting her way to their captain and Anomen charging through the knots of combat, trying to reach her before she got herself killed.

A Githyanki soldier dived into his path, sword sweeping up and Anomen was pulling back to catch the blow against the pommel when a deafening crash shook the deck to send them both sprawling. The air rang with curses, someone bursting from the deck hatch to scream, 'We're sinking! The Sahuagin board us! Abandon ship!'

It was as though a madness had descended at his words. The ship was already listing violently to one side, the shouts of the sailors filling the air, some already toppled in the water and being dragged below by unseen hands, while others frantically readied jolly boats for all the good it would do.

And the Githyanki were in as much trouble as they, it seemed. With their ship in no danger of sinking, the sahuagin had resorted to boarding her, the strange fish-people swarming up the sides and over the deck in numbers too great to vanquish. The Githyanki captain seemed to realise this too, the man ordering his ship in to a retreat, perhaps content with the idea they would be dead soon enough anyway.

Anomen searched for her in the chaos, Jaheira's shouts behind him for them to stay together going unheeded. He found Fritha at the prow, already barefoot and slowly unbuckling her sword, shoving that too into her open pack with the unflustered resignation of one who knew they would soon be swimming whether they liked it or not.

'Fritha!' he shouted above the cries and she glanced up, walking over to him.

'Take off your boots and cloak,' she said by way of greeting, 'They will only pull you down.'

He stared down at her passive face, briefly wondering whether the fact he would soon be plunged into sahuagin-infested waters was more or less worrying than Fritha's unruffled acceptance of the whole thing.

'Come, Fritha,' he urged even as he heeded her, unfastening his cloak to just leave it discarded there on the deck, 'Jaheira is gathering everyone in the stern.'

And without a word, she followed him.

Up on the aft deck, everyone was busy unbuckling armour and lightening their packs, throwing out bedding, rations and anything else that would drag them under, and the pair joined them, Anomen reluctantly discarding his cuirass to the deck, his family shield still below where it would stay, the ship its final resting place. Minsc, though, was more worried for his hamster than any of his belongings, Aerie trying to soothe him as she placed a charm on his belt pouch.

'There Minsc, that should keep the water out –at least for a time.'

'Oh, thank you, little Aerie, Boo is very grateful.'

'Fritha, what are you doing?' demanded Jaheira, the woman glancing up to see her bent securing her lute case to the back of her pack, 'Take that off this instant!'

'No, the case is buoyant, it comes.'

'Until it logs with water –remove it now!'

'No! The lute dies with me!' Fritha snapped, the girl bending forward and struggling to heave the chain shirt from her shoulders, 'Now, help me get my-'

The ship shuddered, the scream of men lost in the shriek of splintering wood as the deck split into two and there was a scramble on the aft deck as the main mast came hurtling down to smash what was left of the ship into the icy water.

Anomen floundered in the darkness, his lungs burning as the pressure within them screamed for release. He did not know which way was up or even his own name anymore, his mind fighting to understand through the absolute cold into which it had suddenly been plunged. A field of white above him and Anomen broke the surface with a lung scalding gasp to find himself under one of the sails. He cast about him, the soaking canvas blocking all else from view as he shouted hoarsely.

'Fritha? Jaheira?'

'Anomen?'

Anomen whirled to the sound, trying to keep above water as he spared an arm to raise the canvas further above his head and found Aerie a few yards away, hair floating about her in a golden aura.

'Aerie?'

He made to swim to her, the elf about to speak again, when her face lit with an unknown horror and she was whipped below the surface.

'Aerie!'

Anomen renewed his efforts to reach her, almost at the spot when something clamped about his leg. He kicked it off, more hands replacing it, pulling him under, his last memory: a flash of teeth in the freezing darkness.

xxx

Haer'Dalis drew a deep ragged breath, his throat raw and disgustingly salty. Every muscle ached from his struggles with the water, but he welcomed the pain –it meant he was alive if nothing else. He shifted, becoming more aware of himself as the moments passed, his clothes damp and clinging to him uncomfortably, the hand that had once been clasped about Aerie's wrist now empty, and he sat quickly, the pain that flared through him nothing in his relief as he found her lying just a few feet away, the rest of their companions laid about him, bodies arranged neatly in three rows of four, three and then just one upon the cool stone tiles -like sacrifices awaiting the knife.

Aerie was breathing, steady and strong, the others already stirring and Haer'Dalis let his attention rise to their surroundings. They were gathered in a long room of blue stone, likely some sort of temple from the large altar set upon the dais before them, a narrow moat of water flowing around it from some unseen source. Bright mosaics of stone and gems decorated the walls, two rows of bulbous pillars reaching far up to a ceiling that was, surprisingly, not blue stone, but of a rough grey rock, unadorned and uneven, as the roof of a cavern. Haer'Dalis stared into the gloom between the two pillars next to him, a heap of bags, armour and weapons neatly piled within, and he was sure he could see the dim lamps catching on the clasp of his lyre case; it was their belongings.

The slap of wet leather on stone and he whipped back to see a humanoid creature emerge from behind the stone altar and walk down the steps towards them. Its blue-green skin was covered in scales, fins arcing from its back, head and forearms, its thick neck widening into a large smooth head set with round oil-black eyes and a wide mouth full of needle sharp teeth, its muscular piscine tail slapping down the steps and splashing through the shallow moat as it trailed after the creature.

It opened its mouth and Haer'Dalis was honestly expecting some sort of growl. But what came was a voice, mellow and gurgling, like water being sucked through a small fissure.

'Awaken, children of the light.'

It was wearing a simple white tunic, just two panes of what was likely silk, and as the creature closed to them he could see it was pinned at the shoulders and waist with fine golden broaches, a necklace of precious stones and shells about its neck and bearing a large gold shark's tooth as pendant. What had the sailors shouted about? Sahuagin?

Hear'Dalis was glad to see his reaction was not the only one of surprise; at the end of the row, Imoen had sat, shaking the hair from her eyes only to scoot backwards in her shock. The creature held up a large webbed hand.

'Do not be afraid, surfacers.'

'Can it understand?' came a voice behind them, their group whipping around as one to see another of the creatures, this one taller and bearing a shark skin harness and spear. 'The most exalted King Ixilthetocal awaits it.'

The first creature nodded once. 'Sekolah has granted them the ability to understand our tongue, though they will likely still be disorientated. Wait outside, Captain, I shall bring the surfacers to you when they are ready.'

'What is going on?' demanded Valygar, 'Who are you?'

'Calm yourselves,' the creature gurgled serenely, 'all will be revealed in time. I am Royal High Priestess Senityili and you are in the City-of-Caverns, one of the sahuagin's most ancient places.'

'Why did you attack our ship?' asked Fritha, the girl knelt where she had been placed, alone in a row of her own and closest to the altar. Senityili gazed down at her with fathomless black eyes.

'The Githyanki aimed to kill you; we could not let that happen.'

'Ah, well, thanks and everything,' Imoen laughed nervously, 'but, er, why would you care?'

'There is a prophecy.'

Fritha exhaled tersely. 'Oh, not another one.'

Haer'Dalis could sympathise with her displeasure. When Aerie had first told him of her heritage, it had been the one thing for which he had pitied the girl. He had never liked the idea of living under prophecy; your entire destiny controlled by the words of some long dead seer, though he could see now it had its advantages. Senityili was padding back to the large stone altar, a hand held up and gesturing to the hanging behind it, where dyes and paints depicted her story frame by frame.

'Long ago, the Shark-Father, Sekolah, spoke to us through the great and only High Priest, Sixiltilys, and gave to us our most sacred prophecy. That when the great City-of-Caverns has most need of it, the Shark-Father will send to us a saviour. That time has come; the City-of-Caverns is in grave danger. I have made my divinations, have read the signs in the blessed shark entrails and the swirl of the tides, and both have shown me the way. Your ship was the harbinger.' She pointed to Fritha, 'You are the one, surfacer, who will save our people.'

Imoen looked sceptical; with those four months apart, perhaps she was having a difficult time coming to terms with the fact her childhood friend was the Shark-God's divine champion.

'Er, fair enough, but lots of other people were on that ship -how d'you know it wasn't any of them?'

A sweep of her hand and the hanging was aside, a painted carving on the wall behind, the stylised outlines of green and blue sahuagin all bearing gifts and knelt in reverence either side of the central figure: a pale, finless creature of webbed claws, needle teeth and wild orange hair.

'Oh. Right.'

'Come,' continued Senityili, moving down the steps to join them once more, 'I must take you to Captain Feerlatiys; you must be presented to the king.'

They were escorted from the temple by the Captain, the Priestess and two other sahuagin guards, the four leading them along wide walkways, all of the same blue stone tiles, canals of water flowing all about them, falling in waterfalls and gathering in large square pools where steps led straight down to the water's edge and Fritha could see the city falling away far below them beneath the surface. As for up there in the air, everything seemed to be covered in a thin film of oil that shimmered with a rainbow's hue in the light of the lamps that lines the walkway's edge, the pillars from which they were hung and indeed the buildings they passed all stretching up to the rough cavern roof, the stone rippling with the light reflected up from the waters around them.

Senityili noticed her curiosity to explain, 'It is the roof of the Great Cavern. We are in the uppermost heart of the City-of-Caverns; a rare realm of air in our city beneath the sea. Our most important buildings find their place here, our temple and the palace among others, and it is our law that all buildings must open upon the roof of the Great Cavern, a reminder of this place and the protection it affords our most sacred city.'

'But how does the air here remain breathable if it is but a pocket?' asked Aerie. The priestess nodded, seemingly pleased by her question.

'This cavern is linked to the others of our city by the waters beneath us, but other passages link this level to your own realm of air.'

'You mean the surface?' cried Imoen eagerly. Senityili flapped her tail in what could have been a shrug.

'As we would call it, yes, though I doubt you would consider it so. It is not your own land of light and sun, child, but a black place of caverns as large as our own. I believe you would know it as the Underdark.'

They walked the rest of the way to the palace in grim silence, finally arriving before two large doors decorated in a mosaic of gold and green sharks, their group admitted to a large hall of a similar layout to the temple, though instead of an altar to focus their worship, a large sahuagin, his long fins tipped in a vivid purple, was seated upon an ornate coral throne, guards positioned before every pillar, while the rest of his courtiers were lined either side behind them and talking quietly amongst themselves. The doors closed behind them, and Fritha fancied she could even hear the gentle swell of the waves so far above in the abrupt silence, a whole room of glossy black eyes suddenly fixed upon them.

Senityili approached the throne to bow deeply.

'We are here, your majesty, as you command, and we bring the blessed one.'

The king flicked his tail with a bored nonchalance. 'Do you now? The one the mighty Sekolah promised us? It is one of these strange creatures assembled behind you, we assume. Well, have it step forward then, let us have a look at it.'

Senityili bowed again, beckoning Fritha forward. 'This, your majesty, is the blessed one; the one of whom the prophecy speaks.'

A murmur of doubt rippled about the room, the court all staring at their saviour, and Fritha could understand their concerns. Surfacers were usually little more than meat to the sahaugin; it would be like someone asking Athkatla or the Gate to put all their faith in a talking cow.

The king was leaning forward, Fritha having to fight against turning her face away as his gaping mouth closed to her, the smell of fish overpowering.

'It seems a most strange saviour. It has no scales and its teeth are tiny.'

The priestess sounded anxious. 'Ah, yes, most honourable king: it is a surfacer, as the prophecy foretold.'

The king drew back with a dissatisfied 'Hmph!', his beady black eyes swivelling to take in those behind her. 'And who are these things with it?'

Senityili was prompt to answer him. 'The blessed one attends here with her servants-'

'Servants?' choked Imoen shrilly.

Fritha dipped a polite nod to the priestess at her side.

'They are not my servants, honoured priestess… They are my acolytes.'

'Acolytes?'

Fritha tried not to smile at the disgruntled muttering that had just erupted behind her, and she was not the only one who was pleased, the king slapping his tail against his throne as he laughed loudly.

'Acolytes, eh? Oho, that does sound promising! And what do you think, soft one?' he continued, leaning forward once more to speak to Fritha herself. 'Do you believe you are the one of whom the prophecy speaks?'

Fritha nodded, addressing the court as a whole; there was no point being shy about it. 'Yes, your majesty. I have many prophecies to my name, both here and on the surface.'

'Aha! Well, this is all very good, but how are you to go about this, the saving of our great city?'

'If I might make a suggestion, your majesty?' came a male sahuagin, who did not appear to be wearing any actual clothes as much as a lot of jewellery, the male stepping forward from those courtiers gathered to approach the throne.

'Baron Thelokassyil, yes, what is it?'

'Well, your majesty, you could assign these surfacers to destroy the rebels.'

The king slammed a webbed fist against the arm of his throne.

'Oh yes, the rebels; an excellent task to set these surfacers to! Now, listen carefully, blessed one, that you may know just how to serve us. There is a group of rebels gathering outside the city under that young upstart -what was his name, Prince… Prince… Prince Villynaty! We exiled him a good while ago now –we can't quite remember what he did now, but we are sure he deserved it at the time- and we really thought it an end to the matter. But instead of leaving us in peace, he has gone and raised a rebel army and is set on overthrowing us! The impudence! Your task will be to attack the rebel stronghold and kill them all.'

Senityili's fins rattled nervously. 'But, honourable king, I thought you had decided in your wisdom to pardon the rebels, that the exiles could rejoin our city. All the time our bloodline grows weaker and more territories are lost to the drow and Illithids. If they are allowed to return, the City-of-Caverns would be all the stronger for it.'

The king flicked his tail back and forth thoughtfully.

'Did we agree to that? Hmm, we do not recall it.' He let his fins droop in sympathy. 'We understand your words, priestess, that we do… but we think we would still much rather have the Prince's heart. So, you have your task, surfacer,' he continued eagerly to Fritha, 'Bring to us Prince Villynaty's heart and we will shower you with treasures and show you the way back to the surface –for you surely cannot stay here indefinitely,' he added with a gurgling chuckle. 'Oh no, that would not do, for we might forget ourselves and eat you in error.' He turned a stern frown on the male next to him, 'You would not think of eating our blessed saviour would you, Baron?'

The Baron hurriedly dipped his face. 'Er, no, your majesty.'

'Quite so. So, surfacer, save the city and be rewarded and everyone will be happy! Well, except for Villynaty! Ha!' The king stood abruptly, the surrounding court all dipping their heads. 'This audience is over. Senityili, return them to the temple and give them details of the rebels that they may begin.'

'As you say, your majesty.'

xxx

It was night, or at least, their version of it, two acolytes moving about the temple to dim the lamps, while another was knelt by the small table just behind them laying out a meal of dried seaweeds and what looked to have once been fish prior to its cremation, before the three sahuagin at last rose and left them to their rest. Senityili had suggested they spend the night there, in the temple, for their own safety, the priestess plainly stating that there were those in the city who would wish them harm, though she did not elaborate as to who. Their belongings, and many more things besides which had been rescued from the wreck, had finally been returned, useful equipment as well as many treasured items believed lost forever now back with them and the atmosphere was light despite the setting as they set about cleaning the salt from the metal and leather both, before rot and rust could set in, the temple floor scattered with drying clothes and parchment, their bedding still unpleasantly damp and thick enough that it likely would not dry before they needed to sleep.

Fritha was too tired to care, her damp bedding already laid out, a small group of drying books making a tiny campsite at her head as she laid back to look up at the shimmering roof of the cavern, glowing lichens and clusters of agate flickering like stars. She was half-glad they had suffered this diversion; she would have never seen such a city otherwise. She knew well she was very likely going to die and it was a little more of life to be experienced before her inevitable end.

How strange that some sahuagin, so long ago, had predicted her existence. Had he known of her life? Seen her birth, her joy, her suffering, her end? Or had it just been a glimpse of this little bit where she affected his people?

Fritha shifted onto her side, glancing over at Anomen, the man sat on his bedding cleaning his shield with a slow methodical rhythm. She wanted to feel sorry for him or, better yet, to hate him, but, in truth, she felt nothing, just tired and empty and vaguely unhappy with the way her life had turned out. And yet, even that was fading, and it was small comfort to know that when her end came, she may well no longer have the capacity to even care.

Fritha sighed, rolling on her back once more. The Underdark was beckoning… Was she to believe it was mere coincidence that her only path forward just happened to be where Irenicus had gone? The Fates were dragging her to a confrontation whether she was ready or not, and Fritha had no doubt that wherever in the Underdark the sahuagin's path led, that mage would not be far away. Perhaps, if she were lucky, they would even reach him in time for him to kill her, rather than her just being swallowed by the emptiness within.

Now, don't think like that, petal, it helps no one.

No, it did not, but it was hard to remain bright. Imoen had been without her soul for over a tenday now, but she seemed to be dealing with the loss much better than she –the fact she was not exploding with the living embodiment of Murder could only be a good sign- and Fritha decided were it to come down to a choice between them, they would pursue Bohdi, if only because she believe there was more of her friend left to save.

Fritha laid still, listening to the sound of the others about her, talking quietly amongst themselves as they dried and sorted their belongings. They had been through much together over those last few months and she felt it was a point of honour that, after so long as their leader, she see them all through this last stretch alive. Perhaps she should tell them that? But, no… Everything she said came out wrong, at the moment –admittedly for the most part by her own design, but it seemed even words meant to bolster were only a source of dissatisfaction for them. Was she so removed from her previous self that she was beyond their comprehension? Was it so difficult to understand that now, as she stood amongst them dying, she just could not be bothered with all that talk and soul-searching. Why did she still have to tip-toe around them, making sure her chosen path for survival didn't hurt any feelings?

'Ho there, my raven.'

Fritha sat to see Haer'Dalis picking his way across their camp, a bowl of fish in each hand. His smile was cautious, as though unsure of his welcome, and his reluctance stung, though not as much as it once would have.

'Hello, Haer'Dalis.'

The wariness faded at her greeting, his smile more genuine as he handed her a bowl and dropped to sit cross-legged at her side.

'There, do not ask me what it is, for I have not a clue –and I have not a spoon either,' he added with a laugh, 'Our hosts neglected to provide any.'

'Here,' murmured Fritha, rooting in her bag to finally produce a fork which she handed to him, the girl fishing her knife from her damp pocket for her own use as he continued.

'I was just getting the last of the salt from my lyre; the wooden frame will need to be re-polished but I do not think the instrument itself is damaged. Did your lute survived the soak?'

Fritha nodded, swallowing a mouthful of very burnt fish; from what she knew, the sahaugin took most of their meats raw, though she could appreciate the fact they had gone to the trouble to prepare their own meal in a way they understood surfacers to prefer -even if they had been a touch zealous with it.

'Yes,' she answered finally, pointing to the long box at her feet, 'I scratched a charm upon the case to seal it, see?'

The bard peered at the hastily carved runes with a smile. 'Ah, cleverly done, my raven, perhaps you can favour us with a song later.'

She shook her head, grimly going back to her bowl.

'No, the time for songs is over now.'

And for a short while, the crunch of well-cooked fish was the only noise between them, a presence looming over the pair before either could speak again. Anomen was arrived and looking awkward, a rag and large tin of metal polish in one hand as he eyed the gleaming heap of chainmail at Fritha's side, her mail shirt just as damp and briny as when it had been hauled with her from the waters –the girl rather delighting in the idea that it could rot as she did.

'Fritha, do you need to use the polish?'

'No.'

The knight seemed to wrestle with himself a moment, his voice little more than a resigned sigh as he offered, 'Then may I use it for you?'

The girl shrugged indifferently, pushing the chain towards him with her foot.

'Be my guest.'

Anomen sighed again, stooping to retrieve it as she returned pointedly to her conversation with Haer'Dalis.

'So have you everything accounted for then?'

The tiefling blinked, looking almost uncomfortable as he faltered, 'I, well, a couple of books that were in my cabin are still missing, but they were hardly irreplaceable. And you, my raven?'

She snorted darkly, eyes on Anomen as he slowly worked the salt from her chain.

'No, nothing irreplaceable.'

'You and he seem on better terms,' said Haer'Dalis. Fritha turned back to him with a shrug.

'Do we? Well, to be honest with you, I bare him no true ill will. After all, we hardly had any relationship to speak of anyway; just a tenday of pleasantries really -we never even kissed.'

Haer'Dalis choked on a forkful of seaweed.

'Never?'

'No, our relationship wasn't at kissing yet, or perhaps it was past that part… I loved him, you know,' she confessed mildly, unable to recall the feeling even as she knew it had been so. 'Ah, perhaps it is better we'd never kissed; that sort of thing can be compelling, so I hear, and I might be here now trying to seduce you.'

She laughed, though Haer'Dalis did not share her humour, the man leaning forward to gently cup her face, a lot of emotion behind the gesture as he sighed, 'Oh, my sweet dear Fritha.'

She smiled, batting his hand away, though not unkindly. 'Ah, such is life, sparrow. I was never meant for a happy ending.'

A creak of the doors at the back of the temple, a shape entering, though the shadows hid just who. Fritha's hands fell to her sword, Senityili's warning of faceless enemies at the fore of her mind, and the others were clearly thinking the same, everyone on their feet as Jaheira demanded, 'Who walks there?'

'Do not be afraid, children of the light; it is I, Senityili.'

'Oh,' sighed Fritha, sheathing her blade, 'did you want something?'

The priestess nodded. 'Indeed, it is so. I wanted to speak with you, blessed one, on matters of great importance. Perhaps we can retreat to the altar to share our thoughts privately? Or indeed, dismiss your acolytes and we can speak here.'

A round of mutinous glares that were just daring her to try it. Fritha smiled to herself; they really didn't think much of her anymore, did they?

'No, they can stay, priestess; they should hear this as well.'

'As you will it, blessed one,' Senityili demurred, the female dropping to sit on the floor next to her and all retook their seats as she continued.

'Though it is treason for me to speak so, I will say it: our king is mad. Surely, your audience showed you this. He is the result of poor breeding. Like his father, he has executed or exiled far too many of our kind in a bid to keep the throne from potential upstarts, and in doing so he has doomed our city. The hatcheries are barren and there are too few females… in short, the bloodline grows thin. Prince Villynaty and the rebels may be the city's only hope. With the Prince on the throne and the fresh blood of the exiles returned, we would be strong again, strong enough to fight the drow and Illithids, and keep our city safe.' The priestess dipped her head in reverence. 'You are the prophesied one, and I will abide by your decision whatever it be, for only you will know the true way to save our people. But I believe you should be aware of all the paths laid out to you, before you are forced to choose one.'

Fritha glanced to those about her, seeing no sign of any initial objection and she turned back to Senityili.

'I will speak with the Prince and make my decision then.'

Senityili's eyes narrowed in her relief. 'I thank you, blessed one. Come,' she continued, standing suddenly, 'we must leave now, if we are to meet them -and do not bring your armour, we will have to take to the water.'

The predictable sighs of discontent, Imoen whining miserably, 'Aww, and I've only just got dry, too.'

'And what of Boo?' cried Minsc, 'He did not like his swim the first time!'

'Stay here then,' offered Fritha, stooping to unlace her boots for the second time that day, 'I can go alone.'

But no one, it seemed, was keen on that idea and, in the end, they all followed Senityili through the darkened walkways, Boo left in the temple, guarding their belongings.

At her side, Imoen was gazing about her with a wary look, the lamps of the city dimmed to a pale emerald green and eerie with it.

'Fritha, I'm not so sure about this.'

'You aren't still crying about getting wet again, are you?'

'No,' her friend corrected sharply, 'I was just wondering, well, whether we should be doing this,' Imoen dropped her voice to a breathy whisper, 'actually helping the sahuagin and making them stronger? I mean, they are kind of evil –we'd be a hearty lunch for that mad king if it wasn't for your being their chosen one.'

'Yes, but I am their chosen one,' Fritha countered gravely, hearing the slight scorn her friend had placed on her piscine divinity and coming to the quick conclusion that nothing would annoy Imoen more than her playing it up, 'and as their saviour I have a duty to the sahuagin to aid them if I can –all things are needed in this world, Imoen, even evil monsters like us –ah, I mean them.'

Imoen did not find her slip amusing, though luckily Jaheira was on hand with her oar to distract from it.

'She is right, Imoen; all are needed in the balance of the Underdark. Take away the sahuagin and their enemies become more powerful –the drow or the Illithids. This race, evil as it is, is needed to fight the others and keep each other occupied, that no one becomes too powerful and turns their gaze upon the surface.'

Ahead of them, Senityili had halted at the top of a wide flight of stone steps that descend down to disappear into the pool beneath, the water shimmering black in the dimmed lamps.

'We are here, blessed one. Please know that we have bought this meeting in blood we could ill-afford to shed. The King has placed a curfew on the Undercity and many guards patrol it at night, keeping watch for the rebels. An attack by our number has been arranged on the other side of the Great Cavern to distract from our passage now.' She paused, tail flicking uncertainly as she added, 'I understand that the Prince may not be all you expect, but- but he has the loyalty of the exiles and it is their return more than anything that will save our city. '

Senityili raised her hands, a silvery light engulfing them.

'There, the mighty Sekolah has granted you the ability to breath as we. Come, we must hurry.'

And with that, the priestess immediately turned to make her descent into the still waters, Fritha sending a grin to those behind as she stepped after her.

It was a strange feeling, breathing in water instead of air, her taste buds balking at the saline liquid and Fritha could not say she was getting used to it even towards the end of their journey. Down through the sleeping city they swam, the buildings just huge towers of blue stone, their bases fixed somewhere of the seabed far below. Apertures of different sizes peppered the columns, their surfaces decorated in shells and pebbles, likely by the residents, each seemingly trying to outdo their neighbour with the splendour of their designs, the large green lamps that bobbed every few yards highlighting their work.

They saw no one, the occasional shadow moving across a window the only sign that the whole city was not completely deserted. Fritha rather liked it.

They seemed to swim for hours, though it was likely little over one, each stroke becoming increasingly painful as they travelled down through the city to reach what must have been the wall of the cavern itself, a living mosaic of coral, seaweeds and shellfish clinging the rock. There were no lights there and Senityili did not call one either, instead using her hands and feet to see as she swam up and down the rough cavern wall when, at last, she found what she was looking for. A small hole, large enough for a sahuagin, but only just, the opening hidden behind a forest of kelp.

And finally they surfaced, the air filled with coughing as they staggered from the water into a small tunnel, the sandy floor clinging to their wet clothes.

'The great Sekolah has given us a pocket of air here, at least for a short time, that you may have this meeting in comfort,' announced Senityili, a kindness rather lost on the group stood soaked through and shivering before her. 'Come, I must present you to the Prince.'

A short way along the narrow tunnel and the passage opened out into a small cave, the Prince just another large sahuagin, who at least seemed less mad than the monarch he desired to overthrow; the two guards stood just behind him bearing glowing blue torches rather than spears.

The meeting began. Fritha could see why Senityili had given them her warning earlier –she really did not think there was much between the prince and the king, Villynaty seemingly more concerned with getting the throne, than what it meant for his people. But he agreed that all those exiled should be returned to the city and, moreover, he had Senityili's confidence and since she was the only sahuagin Fritha trusted, that was enough for her.

And so the plan was agreed and set in motion, their group returning to the temple, Fritha bearing a large sahuagin heart of unknown origin wrapped in a scrap of oiled seal-skin with which to present the king on the morrow, that he drop his guard and give them their chance to strike.

Ixilthetocal was predictably jolly about the whole thing, greeting their news with a great laugh and claiming he was glad they had arrived before the noon, or the high tide as he had called it, for now he could take the heart as a side dish with his meal. And it seemed the celebrations were not to end there. As the Prince had predicted, the king was keen to show all his triumph, a large banquet being arranged for that very evening –Fritha and the others invited along as reluctant guests of honour.

Fritha had certainly been to merrier parties. Ixilthetocal's whole court seemed to live in fear of his mad whims – he had sent three of his guests off to be sacrificed before the third course, the rest of the courtiers keeping their heads low to their plates as they slurped up the slices of raw meat and fish. As for the king himself, he had certainly seemed to let his guard down, the creature seated at the head of that long stone table, laughing and joking and periodically musing on how Sekolah would take to him eating his blessed saviour, and the first he even suspected of their betrayal was when Prince Villynaty burst through the doors, spear already bearing blood of the guards he had killed to get there.

The fight was bloody, but short, the majority of the courtiers just fleeing for their lives as guards and rebels met in a clash of claws and spears, their own group gathering in a corner before Senityili, keeping the vengeful palace guards from the priestess as she called on the power of her Shark-God and, at last, it was over. Though little better than the king he had replaced, Prince Villynaty was at least as generous, rewarding their aid with gold and jewellery from the treasures, and the greatest prize of all: passage from that realm.

…

Senityili nodded to the two guards, the sahuagin males moving to unlock the huge metal gates they had been guarding

'There, the passage to the surface. Follow the tunnel until you reach a dead end. The only way from there is upward, but the rope I have gifted you should aid your ascent. Its magic is strong; just do as I instructed and all will be well.' She regarded them all with expressionless black eyes, her gaze finally returning to its starting point, fixed upon Fritha. 'The time to part has come, blessed one; I thank you for the aid you afforded our people.'

'You are welcome, priestess.'

Senityili nodded again to the guards and the gates were pulled back with a shrill groan, werelights flickering into life one by one as their group entered the darkness, Senityili still calling her farewells after them, the voice losing coherency as Sekolah's gift died.

'Be well, blessed one, may the tides always thsseolix thiy 'ssolath xiaviss ytiantiss…'