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

Daughters of blood

Though she had said they would attack within the hour, it was more like two by the time they were all gathered about the frosted gravestones and mausoleums in the far southeast of the cemetery, a whole heaven of coruscating stars lending light to the scene.

Fritha watched them milling about her, the good two dozen men and women who would be joining them in this battle, the air dancing with colour as the mages cast their protective magics, a clay golem standing sentry in their midst while the knights and priests made final checks to armour and muttered a last few prayers to gods who seemed, from her experience, to care little either way, the thieves lingering in a shadowy knot of their own, just watching and waiting as she was.

They all knew the plan, and Fritha felt the nervous energy quiver through her, not an emotion or even the panic of the voice, but an eager hunger that was not her own. It was the essence, and it knew a battle was at hand. Fritha glanced over to where her own group were making their final preparations, Jaheira catching her eye to break from their company and join her on the edge of the gathering, leaning as she was against the wall of a nearby mausoleum.

'It will be time soon,' the woman offered as greeting. Fritha nodded.

'Yes.'

'I am sure he will-' the assurance died on her lips, Jaheira faltering in favour of something actually believable. 'He would hold on for as long as he could.'

'Yes.'

A long, contemplative pause.

'Fritha-'

A loud and clearly irritated voice cut Jaheira off. A man Fritha did not recognise had arrived in their midst, a group of four others at his back, just mercenaries as they were by their look, their presence clearly being questioned by the equally annoyed Cadril.

'As I said,' snapped the stranger stridently, 'we are looking for Jaheira of Tethyr.'

Fritha glanced to the woman next to her. 'Who are they?'

Jaheira frowned. 'Harpers,' she muttered, raising her voice as she stepped forward. 'I am she, who asks for me?'

The pair gazed coolly at each other a moment, the man's voice no warmer as he answered her.

'That does not matter. Suffice to say, we were informed of your inquiries and have since learnt of your cause. We have been sent to aid you.'

'Fine,' Jaheira dismissed just as coldly, 'Speak to Sir Cadril and he will inform you of the plan –find yourselves a role within it.'

Jaheira turned back to her, the slightest dry smile quirking her lips. Fritha straightened, the presence within her giving an excited jump.

'It is time.'

A nod to the mages and the golem thudded forward, a great clay hand reached out to haul back the door on a set of stone steps, the centre of each dipped, worn down by centuries of passing feet. Arkanis, the leader of the thieves stepped up, a smile on his craggy face.

'We will enter first, m'lady, and check for traps- Sahfid, Chloë, take the lead.'

The two young thieves were quick to obey him and in ones and twos the rest of them followed, descending into the darkness.

xxx

A scream pierced the thick stone ceiling, the feel of it lingering long after the sound itself had faded. Anomen lay still, feeling exposed without his armour and even more so without his holy symbol, the man very aware of the heart beating wildly in his chest as he listened to the clash and roar of battle upstairs.

The chamber he had found himself in was circular, a few paces across at the centre, with eight large sandstone sarcophaguses set against the walls to project out into the room in a mockery of a sunburst, his body laid at the foot of one, while Bodhi and her entourage were gathered just to the side of the door opposite talking quietly, their dark outlines moving in the lamplight. There were doors at either side of the chamber too, though he knew instinctively they would lead only to stores or side rooms. This was Bodhi's inner sanctum, where she and her favoured few would lie in their tombs as the hated sun wheeled above them, and it was here the vampire would make her final stand.

Anomen had awoken there a few moments ago, though perhaps that was not the right word. He had not actually been asleep, but since he had been taken, it had felt as though his mind and body had not been his own. Large sections of his memory were blank and what he could recall had a hazy quality, like he was trying to remember some drunken evening with Simon and Erick. Would they be upstairs now? Perhaps that last scream-

'He is awake, mistress.'

He heard before he saw Bodhi's smile, the woman turning to sashay over to him, her boots clicking on the stone tiles, the other vampires trailing behind like her shadow.

'Ah, and just in time. These knightly sorts are always so obliging; they never keep a lady waiting.'

A murmur of appreciative laughter; Anomen swallowed nervously. Bodhi was stood over him now, slightly stooped as though she wanted to taste his fear, her grey face fine-boned and almost child-like, with its small nose and mouth where the red stain she wore had been painted over the edge of the lips in a doll's pout. Their group was silent, clearly awaiting his rejoinder and Anomen tried to keep his voice steady as he let his eyes flick pointedly up to the clamour raging just above them.

'They are coming for me.'

Bodhi laughed gently, black eyes flashing with a keen light. 'Yes, and they will reach you.'

The shadows at her back seemed to surge forward and hands were suddenly upon him, iron bands about his arms and legs, one in his hair to wrench back his head as Bodhi descended and Anomen was certain he felt his arm snap as he struggled vainly.

His neck felt wet -there was no pain –he could feel nothing through the roar of blood and even that faded as the strength drained from his limbs, the world before his eyes dimming slowly. He might see his sister soon, perhaps even his mother, and his last conscious thought was on Fritha –less a prayer, more a final desperate wish to Helm that she would survive the trials she had yet to face. That she would find some peace.

…

The main hall had been breached; the long room well lit by lamplight that cast the sandstone vault in gold, a chaos of bodies pressed about the immoveable stone table that divided the room into pockets of fighting, knights, mages and thieves no longer at odds in belief, but united by a common enemy, the fledgling vampires still bearing the arms they would have wielded in life as they commanded the ranks of ghouls and skeletons marshalled from the nearby crypts.

An explosion of blue fire roared over her. Fritha parried the swing from the vampire at her side, lopping off an arm and trusting one of those behind her to finish the creature as she pressed on, decapitating an unfortunate skeleton and pushing ever forward through the confusion of bodies.

A scream to her right, one of the mages disappearing under the raking arms of a pack of ghouls, her fellows readying their next barrage to save her. A thief was already there, planting a blade firmly in the nearest back and Minsc and Jaheira broke away, too, to lend them aid. Fritha let them go, struggling to block out the clamour and turmoil and scent of the battle about her as the essence within bayed for release, all her focus upon the door she just knew led to the lower crypt.

'Come on, it was over here!'

Once just glowing lines on Odella's map -there it was now before her: a solid, wooden door set far along the western wall. One last push, the ghoul before her screaming as magefire engulfed it, its vampire master sliced from groin to chin, and Fritha's hand finally fastened upon the thick metal ring.

'Locked,' she snapped -she could not trust her own magic for this, not with the essence clawing up her insides. She stepped back, letting the ring slip from her hand. 'Imoen?'

Nothing and Fritha whirled to find the girl just reaching her, Valygar before her, katana glazed in red, the man having clearly forged their way through the press as she had, Aerie and Haer'Dalis tailing after them while Minsc and Jaheira appeared from her right, grazed, bloodied and mostly whole –just like the rest of them.

'Imoen- the door.'

The girl had dropped onto her knees in an instant, already fumbling for the roll of picks at her hip, the others forming a barrier about her as she worked. A few paces along, four knights were gathered similarly about a priest, the robed woman knelt, a white halo intensifying about her as she prayed earnestly, Simon in the shield of bodies, his young face splattered with blood and years aged by the grave frown he wore as he fought.

Back at their group, their presence at the door had not gone unnoticed. A huge leap that took him only a head's distance from the crypt's low ceiling and the fledgling landed upon the table, screeching orders to the creatures below. Ghouls and skeletons took up the cry, a blistering explosion of magic distracting half the former before the ghouls could reach them, the group of mages still in the fight, their leader now hanging back, leant against the wall, bloodied but conscious as she shouted her orders.

Valygar's katana was but a silver blur, he and Minsc keeping back the hordes of shambling ghouls while Jaheira was surrounded in an aura of splintering bones, the skeletons vulnerable before her stave, Haer'Dalis keeping the creatures from Aerie as she, holy symbol aloft, reduced them to dust with but a word.

Fritha blocked the skeleton's swing easily, taking off a leg at the thigh bone and caving in the toppling creature's skull with her pommel. On the table, the fledging was scanning the scene, his frustrations growing, Fritha watching his anger while trying vainly to wrestle back her own. Their eyes met, his face twisting with a sneer and she felt the essence within her roar in triumph as she took a single step forward.

The creature jumped from the table, covering half the hall in a single leap to land before her, sword clashing against her own with force enough to bathe them in sparks and the lustful roar filled her body as they traded blows with dizzying speed. Duck, thrust, parry, swing; the essence flowed through her, every muscle responding with barely a thought, the fledgling's every move anticipated and checked, her delight growing with each blow. A sweep to his face, the creature stepping back, the essence urging her forward, driving her shoulder into his chest to send him staggering, her sword darting like a viper from her tensed arms to stab straight through his chest and she turned her face away as cold blood was coughed over her with his dying cry.

Light burst from the knights, the brilliance swelling to fill the room as though sun had risen in their midst. The air filled with unearthly screams, the essence within her shrinking back and Fritha could almost feel the light burning, though it was not to last.

'There!' cried Imoen and the door swung open, Fritha flying down the steps with little care for traps or guardians, Valygar taking the chance to bar the door they had left. Along the corridor, the frieze of Mulhorandi figures barely registering as she ran, rounding the sharp corner to come upon-

'Another door?' panted Imoen, the others but a step behind her, 'Should I-'

'No,' Fritha cut in, glancing back to the elf; it was all in the entrance. 'Aerie?'

The blast left her ears ringing, the door exploding in a hail of wood and smoke which cleared almost instantly to reveal the chamber beyond. And there she was, the surrounding vampires whirling back at sound of the door, hissing and wary. Bodhi's nostrils flared with a deep breath that was more habit than necessity, before the superior smile was hitched into place and the woman swayed toward them for what they both knew would be their final confrontation.

'So, you have come here despite my warnings. I admit, I had hoped as much; it was one of the many reasons I took your knight.'

Imoen was grinning broadly. 'Oh, Bodhi, you're so far behind it's not funny.'

Fritha remained silent a moment, eyes scanning the floor for some sign of him, her voice sounding strangely calm as she asked, 'Where is his body? If you mean to goad me on this you will fail. Much has faded since the last time we spoke, included the relationship between he and I.'

Bodhi trilled a silvery laugh; it sounded uneasy. 'You truly expect me to believe you?'

'Bodhi, your brother stole my soul; I can barely put up with the people I like.'

'It's true,' Imoen piped up cheerfully, 'she can't even stand me.'

'I am not surprised at that,' the vampire sneered, 'How I feel for Fritha, having to have such a whelp trailing after her, constantly in need of her shepherding.'

But Imoen just laughed. 'I have the same pity for Irenicus –it's your brother who has the power, after all. He just lets you tag along, running his errands.'

'That is not so! I am his muse, his confi-!'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever you say -we're here for Lanthorn, Bodhi.'

'So you know of that?' The vampire smiled. 'I knew Elhan and the rest of them would have to acknowledge us after this.'

Jaheira was frowning. 'And why should they acknowledge you, monster?'

Bodhi looked torn between anger and incredulous amusement. 'What? They did not even tell you? They made me! Created Irenicus and I both in their warped thirst for justice, and yet even now, as their precious city teeters on the brink of its ruin, they would still play the innocents and refuse to admit their shame. Ha! And it will be their downfall. Look at you,' she laughed, 'both full of a bravado even you do not believe. Imoen, as ever all prattle and no point and Fritha, I truly thought you a better actress! Your protestations of indifference are pathetic; do you think I cannot see it in your eyes?'

At her signal, the cadre at her back parted to, at last, reveal him, Anomen stood there, stripped of his armour, but still holding his mace, his clothes torn and showing the half-dried cuts beneath where he'd clearly put up a struggle. His eyes instantly found her and Fritha felt something stir at the hunger she saw there, Bodhi glancing quickly between them, trying to gage the girl's reaction.

'Look upon him, Fritha, the one once sworn to you, now my willing slave to serve me here forever.'

Fritha snorted. 'Normally I'd say keep him. After a tenday you'd be begging me to take him back. But we simply don't have the time. We're here for the Rhynn Lanthorn,' Fritha drew her sword, 'and Imoen's soul.'

Bodhi tensed, drawing back clawed hands. 'Let us see if you find the time to quip when your beloved is tearing out your heart!'

Battle erupted.

The two groups scattered, Minsc leading the charge forward, keen to take his revenge from Bodhi's hide. And revenge was being sought by another there, too, though not of her own company, Parisa instantly finding Fritha in the chaos, her pale face twisted with an angry sneer.

'So we meet again, god-child.'

Fritha smiled and the essence within her purred.

'Hello Parisa, you live yet, I see. Did Bodhi ever find out it was you who first told me of your lair?'

Parisa looked livid. 'That she did, wretch, and the wounds were long in the healing. But your blood will go a way to soothing my scars!'

'You want my blood? Come and get it.'

Her sword was already singing through the air, Parisa dodging it by a hair's breadth, body crouched and tense as she lunged under her guard, and Fritha brought the blade back just in time to smash the pommel into her jaw, the woman staggering back with an angry shriek. Fritha almost laughed, the bloody bruise that now bloomed upon her pale chin a joy to see.

'YOU!'

And Parisa was lunging at her, Fritha swinging out to keep her back, the vampire sacrificing a few fingers to catch the blade in her bare hand and wrench it forward and Fritha stumbled, cruel black talons sweeping up at her face and the girl could do little more than ready herself for the blow -only it never came. Parisa screamed, the two large hands either side of her slender neck dragging her back. One sharp twist and she was suddenly limp, the man behind letting her fall carelessly to the floor. Fritha could barely form the word in her surprise.

'A-Anomen?'

Anomen smiled, the gesture taking a feral edge as it revealed a set of fangs. 'Fritha, my love.'

'Your love?' she choked, 'It's been a while since you had cause to call me that.'

He nodded slowly taking a step closer to her, his black eyes locked upon her face with an alarming intensity, the man not even seeming to notice as she took a step back and instinctively raised her blade.

'I know, and yet the sentiment remains still.'

'That's not the impression Bodhi gave.'

Anomen chuckled fondly, smiling down at her as though the battle around them was a thousand miles away. 'My sweet Fritha, I am as I was, but so much more….'

Fritha shook her head, taking another step back from him and feeling something in her shoulders sag; was nothing simple?

'Oh, Anomen, what has she done to you?'

'She has freed me! I could not tell you before, the constant doubt I felt, the idea that everyone was watching me, judging me. My father, the Order, Helm -all waiting for me to fall, to prove what I knew from the very start, that I was unworthy. But now…'

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, a rapturous smile gracing his features, 'It is glorious! And it is a glory I would share. You cannot know how I desired you, Fritha, how I ached for you while all the time hiding it behind a veil of pretty words. I would watch you sleep sometimes, imagine lying with you, the curve of your hip under my hand, your sigh at my ear, until my desires all but consumed me. But that man was weak and would not speak of it; only now could I ever be truly worthy of you. Bodhi may think she has charmed me away from you, but it is not so. Already I can feel her hold on me fading; it cannot compare with my love for you. Let me change you, Fritha! Together we shall kill her and Irenicus both, and spend an eternity as one.'

Fritha sighed. 'Anomen, we barely get along from one moment to the next; are you so eager for an eternity of squabbling?'

His expression changed in an instant, the smile replaced by a look of furious contempt. 'You are pathetic! You hide behind your humour as you have always done! You are so weary of this life? Then let me free you from it!'

Fritha danced back as the mace just missed her nose, Anomen halting the swing to slide a hand up the shaft and jab again at her head. She ducked, realising an instant too late, she should have parried as she felt the mace come speeding down towards her bowed head. A flare of panic, fierce energy surging through her limbs, and Fritha flung her sword above her, the blade biting into her gloved hand as she caught the blow, heaving the mace to the side and springing back. Her blade finally free and their quarters close, she thrust forward with the little force she could summon, the tip sinking but a few inches into his exposed chest. For an instant, their gaze met and then she had closed her eyes, putting all her weight behind it to push straight through his heart.

His scream was echoed across the chamber. Bodhi was staggering back, her look of horror unmistakable, even through all the blood as she grasped weakly at the great sword that was skewered through her neck, Fritha rushing to intercept them as the two remaining vampires fought to reach their mistress. Minsc withdrew the blade, weighing the blow as the creature swayed before him, and her head was cleaved in one neat swing, a great burst of white light exploding from her as she fell and Imoen dropped to her knees, a hand clutched to her chest.

The fight was over in all but moments, the surviving vampires left reeling in the wake of Bodhi's dazzling end and they were dispatched quickly, Fritha walking across to where Imoen had manage to struggled to her feet.

'Better?'

Imoen said nothing, just nodded, a hand still pressed to her chest. Fritha turned from her, with a succinct 'good' –that was one thing, at least.

'What should we do with the bodies?' asked Valygar quietly, giving the one nearest to him a poke with the toe of his boot.

'Leave them,' answered Fritha, crossing to where Jaheira was knelt beside Anomen's paled form. 'The priests upstairs will ensure they stay dead.'

The druid glanced up as she arrived, her face ashen, Fritha focusing on that rather than the body beneath her.

'It looks as though he put up quite a fight; his arm is broken.'

Fritha sighed ruefully. 'He died as he lived: giving me grief. I expect he would have wanted it that way. Minsc, Valygar- get his body, we should return him to his brothers. What have you got there, Aerie?' she asked, turning to greet her and the tiefling as they returned from one of the side rooms, the elf just shaking her head, too upset to speak and Haer'Dalis answered for her.

'Anomen's belongings, the Rhynn Lanthorn and Aerie also found some books stamped with the seal of Oghma.'

'Some bedtime reading perhaps?' offered Imoen weakly. No one laughed –not even she. Fritha just nodded, sheathing her blade.

'Bring it all. Come, let's leave this tomb.'

Upstairs, the fighting was over, the air filled with the murmured liturgy as a flock of priests swept through the complex, laying the undead to their final rest, the air heavy with the scent of incense and blood.

Those that had survived the battle were above ground, gathered under the unfeeling heavens once more, those that still could be saved laid to one side being tended by the many priests, while on the other were those who were not so fortunate, the bodies just lain under cloaks in a line that just seemed to keep growing. And it was not to stop with them.

'Fritha?' came the cry, the knot of waiting knights parting and suddenly Simon was striding across to them, Erick at his heels, their eyes fixed upon the limp body Minsc and Valygar had slung between them in his old blue cloak.

'Anomen? Oh, merciful gods, we were too late!'

'He is dead,' Fritha said simply, the squire already searching the crowd of priests next to them, High Watcher Oisig appearing from the press of robes.

'Can something be done, Father? Can his soul be called back?'

But the old priest was shaking his head. 'I fear the way he died… nothing can be done, squire.'

Erick looked broken, gazing down at the man they had laid gently at his feet. 'Helm's mercy.'

'Oh, Anomen,' cried Simon, 'by the Dawn, it was but hours ago we spoke and now…Oh, and dear Fritha!' And suddenly she was crushed to his chest as the young squire pulled her to him in a fraught embrace, the girl feeling his assurances through her ribcage. 'You must not blame yourself. He died in service to you and fighting a grave evil –had he a choice, he would have chosen it so.'

'As you say,' she muttered, gingerly patting his arm as she waited for her release. Mercifully, Erick intervened.

'Come, Simon, we will return him to the temple with the others. I understand, Fritha, you and your companions have vital tasks still pressing upon you and we wish you well in them. Farewell.'

Simon finished mopping as his eyes to stoop as Erick did, the pair taking up the burden between them to carry their friend back to his fellow knights and Anomen was gone.

'What are we going to do now?' asked Imoen quietly.

Fritha scanned over them, that line of grey faces, the three worn tomes clutched to Aerie's chest as she wept quietly into her hand. She owed the shrine of Oghma enough to take them back. Fritha sighed.

'Well, firstly, we are going to return these books.'

...

The walk to the docks seemed achingly long. Aerie was still weeping softly, Haer'Dalis whispering at her ear, a scene mirrored with Minsc and his hamster, the man's great head bowed and miserable as he chattered quietly to the creature, the rest of them just wearing those sombre, resigned looks of ones who had lost too many friends over the years for this to be anything unexpected.

Fritha could understand it, but she could not feel it with them. It had been a while in the coming, but she was finally, utterly empty, the feeling so complete she wondered, if someone ran her through, would she even bleed. She turned, leading them down the wide street, the shrine halfway along it, the building a burnt orange in the streetlamps.

'Won't the library be closed at this time of the night?' ventured Imoen. Fritha shrugged.

'Yes, but we can just leave them on the door-' She stopped, both speech and step halted as her eyes caught on the light that was moving beyond those great, black windows. A glance to the others and Fritha was tripping up the steps, a hand already upon her sword hilt as she knocked upon the wood, the door finally opened by an old man Fritha recognised as one of the librarians, his woolly brows brought low as he fixed his glasses to his nose and finally brought her into focus.

'Ah, yes, miss?'

'I found these books. I believe they are yours.'

'Why, yes! Yes indeed,' he cried, as she handed them over for his confirmation. 'I'd been intrigued to hear where you found them -won't you step in a moment? The air is damp and I fear for the books.'

Fritha turned back, sending another glance to the others, before following him inside, the old man moving to set the three volumes upon the nearest table, next to the large pile of books he appeared to have been cataloguing.

'New shipment just arrived from a library in Calimshan,' he answered to her look. 'The patron who was so kind to pay for them is coming to visit tomorrow, so we thought it best they were on display. Now, you said you found these?' he continued, picking up the topmost of the three worn tomes. Fritha nodded.

'Yes, in a vampire crypt beneath the city.'

The old man nodded wisely. 'Ah, that explains much. The books were stolen a few months back when we suffered a break-in here. The three, though unrelated by author, are all on the subject of vampirism. The first two volumes,' he tapped the two still on the table with a long, crooked finger, 'old as they are, are merely a collection of stories - a grain of truth in each, but nothing a cleric or sage would find surprising. The third however,' he smiled, letting the book he held fall open at will, 'is far more worth of study and I suspect what these vampires likely wished to keep from our knowledge –little did they realise it had already been translated and scribed, eh?

'It tells of how fledglings who have yet to feed may be restored to life if their sire is killed. Of course, it must be done before the body decomposes too much, and you would need the heart of the sire, but it was a simple enough ritual devised by an ancient sun cult, who appealed to their god for aid when one of their most ancient settlements was to be overrun by the creatures. A shame really, for though physical remnants of the worship remain -I know of one temple ruins not far from here- the god himself is long dead and his power with him. Perhaps you have heard of him? Amaunator was his name when he was still worshiped, although that is from the ancient Netherese, Amarntarun, meaning- oh!' he cried, as the book left his hand, Fritha already at the door.

'I'll bring it back.'

Jaheira whipped around at the sound of the door, Fritha bounding down the steps looking wild. 'Fritha?'

'We can still save him.'

Jaheira felt an unease stir in her; Fritha had hardly held the strictest ethics of late –what lengths was the girl now contemplating to return Anomen to life? And Jaheira's worries were shared; Valygar was frowning deeply.

'Fritha, you do not mean-'

'Listen!' she barked, hastily shoving a book into her bag as she started along the street, 'We haven't much time. There may be a way we can restore him.'

'But, Fritha-'

'Jaheira!' the girl snapped, and for a second it was there, that pleading look she used to get when all she needed was their faith. Jaheira abruptly shut her mouth, Fritha whipping back to the others. 'We'll split into two groups. Aerie, Imoen and Haer'Dalis go with Jaheira back to the tombs; we need Bodhi's heart. Hurry, before those priests reduce it to ash. Minsc, Valygar, you're with me. We'll meet you outside the ostler's in the slums.'

'And where are you going?' ventured Aerie. Fritha paused, turning back to them, her face a grim mask of orange and black in the lamplight.

'To get his body back.'

xxx

'Young Fritha?' came Minsc behind her, the two men finding it hard to match the pace she was setting to the temple, even taller as they were, the huge building just before them now, windows casting warm yellow panes of light over the canals. 'Young Fritha, what do you plan?'

Fritha slowed, finally bringing them to a halt at the doors as she made her answer. 'The librarian told me -the book contains details of a ritual that can bring fledglings back to life. It was holy to Amaunator. The librarian lamented that He no longer held any power within this world, but we know differently, do we not.'

'The ruins of Umar,' the Rashemi confirmed after a moment to consider it, Valygar frowning as he looked between them. Fritha nodded once, turning to enter.

'Yes… and that is where we must go.'

'And this ritual,' interrupted Valygar, stalling her once more, 'how will it restore him –do you know that? Will he be as he was? Or will he be… changed. I know that some priests can sometimes draw back those not long passed, but it is three days to Umar -Fritha, some things are not supposed to return from beyond the veil.'

Minsc was nodding gravely. 'Boo says-'

'Boo says! Boo says!' she shrieked angrily, 'I'm sick of hearing it! The only words I would hear again are his!'

'Fritha, what happened to Anomen was not your fault,' pressed Valygar.

'No, but what happens now is up to me and this is the path I chose. Walk with me willingly or not at all.'

A glance between the two men, some imperceptible agreement passing in the look and Fritha turned back to the doors.

The temple was quiet, the High Watcher and many of the other priests still likely at the graveyard, and the chapel was almost empty save for the four mourners who were sat in pairs across two of the central pews, Fritha's stomach tightening as her eyes caught on the second pair, two heads dipped in silent prayer, one black, one gold. Erick and Simon.

The room was dark, something which made the brilliance of the altar all the more stunning, the huge stone slab cornered by four thick candles, the flickering light catching on the fine gold embroidery of the altar cloth, that great blue eye staring straight at her as she walked down the centre aisle. His friends glanced up, nodding to her as she passed, perhaps thinking she had come to make her peace with the man and bid him that last farewell. Perhaps she would yet, but it would not be here and it would not be now.

This won't work, you know. He is gone; it is no loss, we need to get back to the city! …Those elves are counting-

'Don't even pretend you care about them.'

'Sorry?' muttered Valygar behind her.

'I said keep close and follow my lead.'

They had reached the altar, three bodies laid out before it, their faces covered by deep blue shrouds, though Fritha recognised him by his cloak. She turned to the men with her.

'Right, you two get his body.'

One last wary glance to each other, before they obeyed, Minsc and Valygar stooping to heave the body up between them, their activity not going unobserved.

'Ah, Fritha?' questioned Simon hesitantly, his friend much less uncertain, Erick on his feet and stumbling over himself as he hastened to reach the aisle.

'What are you doing, Fritha? Return him to the altar!'

Fritha shook her head, already making a furious pace for the doors and he caught her just in time, Simon stumbling after him, the two knights in the pew behind hovering at the end of their row. Fritha felt an unfamiliar rush of angry desperation.

'Erick, I can still save him.'

The paladin raked an angry frown over the three of them. 'And what fell sorcery do you speak of? The High Watcher said-'

'The High Watcher was wrong! There is a religion older than Helm or Lathander and it can save him!'

'What heresy is this?' cried the knight behind him.

'It is not heresy!'

'She is mad with grief!' cried the other. Simon shot him a quelling glare, his face returned to that expression of gentle sorrow as he turned back to her.

'Fritha, I know you loved him, but-'

'Simon,' Erick cut in with a frustrated sigh, 'She and Anomen ended their relations a month back! The girl has since lost her soul and, I think, much more besides.'

'Neither of which have any bearing here!' snapped Fritha, 'Now let us pass!'

Erick remained firm. 'We cannot let you take him, not, at least, without speaking to the High Watcher.'

'And have him deny me? Simon, please,' she implored, her voice quieter as she fought to form the words in her rising anger, 'we can still save him. You must trust me… as he once did.'

She watched as Simon's face hardened, the squire stepping forward, sword slowly drawn and raised as though to bar her path when suddenly he had whirled, barrelling into his friend and kicking the pew back to pin the other two.

'Run!'

xxx

They tore all the way to the slums. Fritha was just glad of the darkness –charging about the streets with dead bodies in tow was a hard thing to explain away and they could not afford any delays. Simon had bought them some time, but she doubted the Helmites or, indeed, the Order would just allow her to leave with their fallen comrade.

The others were awaiting her as instructed outside the ostler's, one among them having the foresight to hire a pony and travois. Anomen was laid upon it, bound in cloak and ropes, and with the night still heavy about them, they left the city gates for Umar.

They took the main road at first, Fritha marching them until high sun before they stopped for a few hours, where the others slept and she paced the edge of the camp, restless with the knowledge if she lay down now, nothing might wake her. They left the road on the second day, taking a more direct route over the hills, the pony loaded with their gear as Minsc and Valygar carried the travois between them over the uneven ground.

No one complained. Hardly anyone seemed to speak for the entire journey, or perhaps she merely had not noticed, all her focus upon their goal.

They reached Imnesvale in the early morning of the third day, the icy square thankfully empty as they crossed to the only inn. Fritha had told the innkeep Anomen was poisoned and they were in the area for a cure, the man still looking reluctant even as he led them up the narrow stairs to their rooms, their group all paired up and sharing –Fritha was in with Anomen.

She stood, gazing out the small window, the view north over the forests they would soon be travelling. To make the temple ruins by the next sunrise, they would have to leave soon, but the others needed to rest and there was still one last thing to be done in the meantime. A knock at the door behind her, more warning than request, Jaheira entering without a word, Aerie behind her, a large dish of scented water held steady in her hands.

Fritha could feel what little of herself still cared growing uncomfortable as they began to strip his body, Aerie surprisingly unaffected as she blithely dipped her cloth into the water and set to her task, and Fritha did the same, keeping her attention firmly above the line of his chest as she washed the blood and dirt from his skin. She had seen his chest bare before, lightly tanned skin hatched with the pale lines of long-healed scars and the dark red cuts the vampires had left him with and, in the centre, the long, narrow wound where she had driven the blade home, closed now by Jaheira's magics, -a half smile above his heart.

His face was serene in death and Fritha carefully wiped it over, combing fingers through his hair to loose the dust, the hair softer that she would have imagined and slightly greasy. She looked down at him, studying his face, the faint lines at his mouth and brow, the faded white scar that just nicked his lower lip; it was almost as though he was sleeping…

'Fritha!'

She glanced up sharply, eyes falling on things she would have rather not have seen before finding the druid's face, the woman turned back from where she had been busy mixing the pungent oils and watching her with a concerned look.

'I said are you ready to turn him?'

Fritha nodded and they did. His back was much clearer, of both scars and cuts, and she washed the skin quickly, the others finishing the rest of him and together they re-dressed the body in clean clothes, Jaheira setting his fractured arm and binding it up before they heaved him onto the spare bed. Fritha watched as the two women anointed him with the oils and water they had blessed as the book had instructed, before they both retired. And there he lay, as though sleeping, and Fritha had to resist the urge to put a blanket around him against the chill as she sat watching him, the women long departed.

She sighed, turning from him to settle on the floor, her back resting against the low wooden frame of his bed, knees drawn up to her chest. It had been days since she had slept, but she could not feel the exhaustion, her heart restless. It had always been her dying, and in the overwhelming knowledge of this, she had never really expected any of the others to leave her. Fritha glanced again to the body behind. His head had lolled slightly to one side, a few stray hairs falling across his brow and she brushed then aside with a wan smile.

'Didn't I say you would likely die in my company? But you would have none of it.'

She shook her head, turning back and hugging her knees to her chest, not sure from where inside the words were pouring even as they came.

'When I first met you, I thought you were an idiot. Not in an unkind way, you understand, but all young and keen and full of talk. And then I got to know you a bit better and then I really thought you were an idiot. Constantly losing your temper and picking fights with me… But then something else crept in as well, I don't know what you would call it. A friendship, I suppose, but different from one I shared with the others. And though we still fought, I did not blame you for it. And then you found out I was one of the Children and you did not seem to care; the fact I did not realise you knew until you told me, showed you could be understanding when you wished it. And time wore on, with more arguments, but a dozen other small kindnesses as well. Then came the confessions of love, and though it took me a while to admit it, I found I rather liked you, too. And I was happy, in that time, Anomen, even with what happened since. I- I do not blame you for what was said, I never did, not really, but your words came at the worst time and in that moment it was just another hurt laid upon me. And then I began to forget and your affection did no more than make this hole inside me all the more noticeable. I could not bear you near…'

She trailed off, the memories hard to think on –they had shared something, something special and now it was gone.

'But you stayed, even after everything… and I suppose what I am trying to say is that I've rather come to rely on you… I understand you're probably with Helm now, but,' she glanced back to him, swallowing painfully, 'but, I need you, so please… please come back.'

xxx

'Here, Minsc, lay him upon the altar.'

'When is the sunrise?'

'We've a few moments yet, Aerie. Fritha?'

Fritha finally tore her eyes from the ceiling of cracked glass, the blue-tinged panes making the watery predawn light seem all the weaker. They were crowded within that small, square room, those about her little more expressive than those stylised figures that decorated the walls behind them, Anomen's body laid out upon the carved stone sarcophagus where the young priestess once more slept, peaceful in her final rest, his hands cupped gently upon his chest, Bodhi's desiccated black heart resting within.

It had been clear when they had first arrived there in the early hours of that morning, that from the set and angle of that chamber, the sun would not, under normal circumstances, strike that altar until the noon. But once they knew to be looking, it did not take them long to find the system of lenses and mirrors in the ruins above, and they had spent their last few hours cleaning and clearing the spotty, clouded glass. Fritha was glad of the distraction –anything to keep her from the restless twisting of her insides. Four days of feeling so and soon it would all be over, though in what way the Fates had yet to reveal.

'Fritha,' Jaheira questioned again, the only one of them who seemed to have any life about her, 'Do you have the ritual?'

'Yes, do you want the translation or the original Netherese written out phonetically?'

'The Netherese,' said Jaheira, nodding grimly as she received the page, 'this chance seems all too slim as it is. All right, step back all of you, there can be no shadow upon the altar.'

They shuffled back, stood silent in the dark edges of the room, Jaheira at the foot of his body as they waited. Fritha could feel the sombre doubt about her – this would never work…

A pale flicker as that first beam of light struck the edge of the stone, but the druid did not begin her chant until it had crept to his brow, Fritha hearing the translation in her mind even as the endless Netherese echoed about them

…Arise, arise, child of darkness, now of light. Let the glory of Amaunator purge your heart. Arise, arise child of darkness, now of light. Let…

Perhaps it was something to do with the lenses, but the light was creeping down his body at a rate much faster than any sunrise, opening the grey skin in healthy, radiant gold. It reached his fingers, Aerie's cry starting them as the heart burst into flames and Fritha darted forward on instinct to knock it from his chest, though the fire seemed to hold no heat and she hovered there, on the edge of the light as it died of its own accord. The room was silent, Jaheira's chant halted at the elf's cry, everyone staring at the body as Anomen heaved one great rasping breath and slowly began to stir.

Jaheira was at his side instantly, a reassuring presence in the surrounding uproar, Aerie flinging herself into Haer'Dalis arms with a shriek of joy, everyone about the altar laughing and striking shoulders and backs, confessing how they had never dared to hope it would succeed. Anomen was sitting now, Jaheira still at his arm, swiftly checking him over, Imoen beaming as she skipped closer.

'Back from the dead, eh, Anomen? How do you feel?'

'Thirsty,' he admitted hoarsely, 'but fine.'

'Ah, glorious day! Young Anomen is returned to our company –Evil, hear this and tremble!'

'Yes, all right, Minsc, but the only things trembling now are the walls.'

Anomen looked warmed by the familiarity of it all, his eyes finding her on the edge of the room, Fritha the only one among them not wearing a smile, the man sending her a firm nod through the jubilation. She returned the gesture.

…

They remained at the temple ruins for the rest of the day, making camp upon the surface in one of the least dilapidated rooms, the broken stone walls providing shelter from the winds, and it was quite cosy once the fire was lit, their canvas stretched over the top as a roof. There was much to catch up on, the others giving Anomen an account of what they had done after he had been taken, including Bodhi's revelation about the elves and their seemingly economical application of the truth, before the knight himself was bombarded with questions, mostly from Imoen, on vampirism and the afterlife, which Anomen had been unable to answer, for indeed he remembered nothing of it.

But the exuberance of their success could not sustain them indefinitely. It had been a hard few days with little sleep and their group bedded down soon afterwards, Fritha rising to volunteer for the first, and what would likely be only watch patrolling the ruins.

Anomen lay still, watching the canvas flap above him. The dull ache of his chest and arm both would have kept him awake even if he had been tired, his right arm resting awkwardly across his stomach in its sling. He recalled nothing of his death, his last memory: that girl before him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she pushed the blade through his chest, Anomen wrestling with the decision to make one last brutal swipe at her and then it had all fallen away. It was a strange feeling, knowing you had been dead -and not just for a moment, but days, only to be brought back by a god who, not only had you never knelt to, but who was reputed to be long dead.

It was no good; he could not lie there just letting his thoughts rattle about his head.

Outside, icy winds were whipping across the exposed ruins, the air bracing and fresh in his stale lungs. He did not have to go far to find her, Fritha sat on the edge of the large stone fountain that made up the courtyard's centrepiece, the chatter of the falling water and susurrus of the surrounding forests masking the sound of his feet as he approached.

Though she herself had made little comment as the others had relayed to him the story of his resurrection, it had been clear that she had been the driving force behind it, and the idea that someone who had for so long professed indifference had gone to such lengths had stuck with him. He was not deluded enough to infer from it that her previous feelings for him were restored, that after this was over, they would be reunited as though never they had sundered. But perhaps it was a sign that the Fritha he had once known was not completely gone, and, whatever happened between them afterwards, he would just be glad of that.

Her face was raised and as he closed upon her he could see her eyes were shut, the girl turned southwards as she enjoyed the weak sunlight and he thought his approach still unnoticed when her voice broke the stillness.

'Hello, Anomen.'

He nodded at her greeting, taking a seat beside her, and silence fell over the courtyard once more, Anomen spending a moment enjoying the light as she had been.

'I wanted to thank you for saving me, Fritha.'

The girl shrugged. 'It was a group effort.'

Anomen just smiled.

'Yes, but I find you have a way of making things happen.'

She fixed him with what could have almost been a mildly curious look. 'Do you truly remember nothing from your time as a vampire?'

Anomen sighed; if anyone was owed the truth, it was she.

'I recall flashes. A thirst that I doubted could have ever been quenched and a power that seemed to come from my very blood -unnerving to think on now, though I revelled in it at the time.'

'You were certain extolling its virtues when I spoke to you.'

He nodded absently. 'There comes a strange feeling of freedom when find you do not care what others think of you.'

The curiosity to her face was unmistakable now. 'Do you miss it?'

He shook his head, the sudden feeling of completeness making him smile.

'No. I spent so much of life listening to my father proclaiming my lack of worth, that I think a small part of me came to believe he was right. Even after I was knighted, it was as though I was waiting to fall, to fail somehow and prove my worst doubts true. And then I did, I became a vampire, a fell creature of darkness, and yet I returned with your help to find I still had my friends and my faith. All this time, my fears have been unfounded and now… now, I finally feel at peace with myself. I also recall what I said to you, Fritha…' he added reluctantly. 'The words were true, albeit slanted in a certain way, but I apologise if they made you feel discomfited.'

Fritha's indifference did not even stretch to a shrug, the girl turning back to the empty courtyard as she offered, 'Your fellows at the Order likely still think you dead. I would send them message saying otherwise, if I were you. And you should perhaps mention that you are very grateful to Simon -I imagine he will be in quite some trouble for helping us.'

Anomen smiled and nodded. 'I shall; you are kind to think of it.' He paused, letting his eyes trace over her face, the breeze pulling bright copper strands across pale profile. 'It was strange how Bodhi's control of me seemed to fade once you arrived. My last thoughts were of you -perhaps that was the cause.'

She turned back to him, neither embarrassed nor warm.

'I am glad you are not dead, Anomen.'

He smiled, clasping her furthest shoulder for a friendly one-armed embrace which she bore with a commendable resilience, before he drew back, the cold finally getting to him, the raw pink to her cheeks indicating similar for her, though she might not be feeling it.

'Come, Fritha, let us inside.'

Back at the camp the others were stirring, the group breaking momentarily as more wood was found and water fetched, Jaheira building up the fire and they shared out their rations with the fading light, the group settling once more.

Fritha wanted to return the book to the shrine of Oghma, an idle wish which had prompted a flurry of activity from Aerie as she flicked furiously through her spellbooks to find a transport circle she had been reading about 'just the other day' whilst trying to decipher the runes upon the amulet which would be returning them all to Suldanessellar on the morrow. Fritha was seemingly acceptant of the risk that it could end up on the other side of Toril, and had dashed off a quick note of thanks to the librarians to slip inside the book, before lending her parchment and inks to Anomen for his own correspondences.

Anomen's broken arm prevented his own writing, at least legibly, and Imoen had cheerfully volunteered herself as scribe as he composed a letter first to the Prelate and High Watcher and then a second note to Simon thanking him for his own part in his salvation, the girl dutifully taking down his dictation –albeit with her own minor additions.

'…I do not know what punishment the church or indeed the Order have placed upon your for your actions, but I pray they see the honest heart that rested behind them and found themselves moved towards leniency.'

'… moved towards len-i-ency…' the girl repeated slowly, 'And just on a side note: if you're are around when I'm (Imoen) back in Athkatla, maybe you and me could meet up some time and-'

'Imoen,' scolded Jaheira, Anomen leaning over trying to catch a glimpse of the letter.

'Please tell me she has not written that.'

Over her shoulder, Valygar shook his head, Imoen still laughing as she dismissed, 'No, no, I'm just teasing.'

Jaheira did not find it quite as funny. 'Imoen, you will relinquish the task of writing to another if you cannot be trusted. Goodness knows why you offered in the first place; your handwriting is appalling!'

'Gods, you sound just like High Scribe Mardine. Anyway, are we finished?'

Anomen faltered, clearly trying to find his place once more. 'Ah, my sincere thanks, your brother in arms, Anomen.'

'My sincere thanks… love and kisses-'

'Imoen!'

'All right, all right, see? Perfect!' she laughed, holding the letter up before him and whipping it away again before he'd even a glimpse, Imoen quickly folding it up to scribble the directions on the front as she made to her feet, 'Right, are we ready, Aerie?'

The elf glanced up from the rune circle she had been chalking out just beyond the mouth of the room. 'Yes,' she nodded, dusting off her knees as she rose as well, 'just put it in the centre. Now where are we sending this to?'

'Send it to Hendak,' offered Fritha quietly, 'he will know what to do.'

Imoen clapped her hands together. 'Right then, Hendak, it is! Who's Hendak?

'The innkeep at the Copper Coronet,' laughed Aerie, gently taking the bundle from her to lay it within the circle at their feet. 'Here, I'll focus, you act as source.'

They joined hands over the circle, Aerie chanting her spell as the runes glowed blue. A flash of smoke and the packet was gone.

'Has it worked?' cried Aerie delightedly. Imoen crouched closer to peer at the charred patch it had left.

'Either that or we've just incinerated it.'

'Boo thinks it worked,' announced Minsc decisively. That seemed enough for Aerie, the elf smudging a couple of the runes with her foot and clambering back through them the settle once more next to Haer'Dalis, Imoen throwing herself back down between Fritha and Jaheira with a sigh.

'Well, that's one thing. Can't have all those knights pitching up at Suldanessellar demanding Anomen's body back.'

The knight snorted sombrely. 'Come the morrow, we may well be able to oblige them.'

But Imoen just laughed. 'Oh, don't be so morbid –that's Valygar's job. I know what we're going to face tomorrow, but we've been through worse and, you know what, I've got a really good feeling about it.'

Valygar muttered something inaudible, but most likely dour, and Jaheira announced the rota of watches before an argument could get started. Fritha let their talk wash over her as she lay her face down into the rough rolled cloak that served her as pillow

She, too, had a feeling about tomorrow. She felt she was going to die.