Chapter 47: Garius Defeated?
Nimbrethil watched in fascinated horror as whatever ritual Garius was performing went horribly wrong for him. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, combined with a foul stench like that of corpses rotting in the sun as an eerie, hellish, blood red smoke curled around the mage and his four acolytes. Garius stared at her as he growled out his final words, "What have you done to me?"
"And that is what happens when you dabble in magic that you do not fully understand," Sand said with grim satisfaction.
"I know that you were hoping to finish him yourself Nim," Khelgar spoke. "But, it's almost poetic that he was done in by his own magic, even if it isn't as satisfying."
"Gods, is it finally over?" Shandra gasped out. She had never imagined battles such as they had fought today. When the bards came around telling tales about ancient wars and battles, they always made those who triumphed sound heroic and marvelous. The reality was a far cry from the songs and she hoped that they would never have to go through something like this again.
Bishop suppressed a snort and wondered again why the farm girl even bothered to come with them. She obviously had no stomach for this sort of thing but she insisted on following Nim everywhere, for no good reason. He followed Nim for two reasons: it was the most fun he'd had in a long time, in or out of bed. The second was that he was making no small fortune from the loot they shared, and, even better, he didn't need to spend it on supplies. He now had enough stashed away that he could live comfortably for the rest of his life and he would only have to work if he felt like it. He could take off to some place far away from Luskan, a place where he was not known, and leave all his problems behind him. So, why don't you do it? The question popped unbidden into his mind and he shoved it away for he had no answer to it, or at least not one he was willing to accept. Nimbrethil's sudden change in behavior snapped him out of his private thoughts.
Nimbrethil had been staring at the bodies in the circle and had moved forward to make sure that Garius was indeed dead. She had her dagger in her hand and was ready to finish him off if he was merely playing possum. As she approached however, the hair on her neck stood on end and her skin crawled for no apparent reason. Hissing, she leapt backwards away from the circle and then stood still, her whole body tense, nose twitching. Something didn't feel right, didn't smell right. He was dead wasn't he? Growling low in her throat she began to walk around the circle, trying to determine what it was that was bothering her. Her instincts screamed at her that something was wrong, that there was still a threat here, but she couldn't see what it might be.
"What is wrong with her? Why is she acting like that?" Vale muttered in irritation, eyeing the girl warily. He had had enough of her and her companions and his patience was at an end.
"I have seen wild animals react in a similar fashion to unseen danger," Elanee answered gruffy. The way Nimbrethil was behaving was starting to put her on edge.
"Elanee, she's a person not some wild animal!" Shandra hissed angrily.
"If you saw her in bed you wouldn't say that," Bishop drawled suggestively and leered at the farm girl, causing her to flush in embarassement. He caught the look on the paladin's face as it changed to one of incensed fury and bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. It certainly was easy to bait the man, but he deserved it for being such a goody goody saint. And really, what better way to stake ownership on the elf than by reminding everyone of whose bed she slept in.
"Watch your foul mouth ranger or I will put my fist into it!" Casavir snarled as he stepped forward at the crass words, red faced and with hands clenched.
"She's mine paladin, don't forget that," he sneered back. "I can say what I want and you'd best keep your nose out of things or she will send you packing. I know you wouldn't like that." Then his eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a vicious snarl, "I've seen the way you watch her, you're practically panting after her. She may be blind but I'm not."
Casavir paused to consider those words and saw the jealousy in the ranger's eyes. "If she really is yours, why are you so afraid of my being around her?" he asked derisively. He saw unbridled fury flare in Bishop's eyes and tensed, waiting for him to attack.
Elanee, sensing that a fight was about to break out, spoke up quickly, hoping to divert the two men. "Nimbrethil has spent most of her life in the woods, hunting and tracking animals. She is more attuned to the ways of nature than any non-druid I have ever met. When you live that closely with wild nature for as long as she has, your survival instincts are sharpened far beyond what is normally possible. When an animal scents danger it does not know or recognize, it instinctively retreats from it. Whatever has unsettled Nim, it must be something pretty serious and totally unfamiliar to her. You have seen how she conducts herself in battle and in the wild. Have you ever seen her get spooked like this before?" Her words seemed to penetrate the brains of Bishop and Casavir and both turned to look at her, distracted by the question she raised.
"Now that you mention it, I haven't once seen her react like this," Khelgar mused thoughtfully, staring hard at the elf as she continued to circle the bodies.
"Exactly! I think it would be in our best interests to be on our guard here," Elanee emphasized. She saw the looks of unease settle upon their faces as they turned to watch the girl. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward to get the elf's attention. "What is upsetting you about the bodies Nim?"
Nimbrethil's head snapped around at the sound of Elanee's voice. She didn't know it, but her eyes glowed with a feral light and her teeth were bared in a snarl. Her expression was enough to send chills down everyone's back. "Something's not right here and I don't know what," she snarled and resumed her circling.
"Could you be more specific my girl?" Sand asked patiently. "That is not much information to go on."
"I know what newly dead bodies smell like, feel like, and look like," Nimbrethil paused, trying to find the words to express what she was sensing. She suddenly wished that Thorondor was here, for he might be able to help her figure it out, or at the very least, put it into words.
"Are you saying that they are not dead?" Casavir asked, alarm rising quickly in him. He had felt that something wasn't right, but had attributed it to the lingering magic in the air from the powerful dark ritual that had been stopped. He saw the others tense and grip their weapons tighter in their hands.
"No, they're dead, but it's not right," Nimbrethil tried to explain. Snarling in frustration, she began pacing around the bodies again. "I don't like it, it makes my skin crawl."
Sand puzzled over her strange choice of words. Whatever the ritual had been, it had smacked of the necromantic arts. "Vale, you read Arval's journal and it spoke about this ritual yes?" he asked as quietly as possible.
"The ritual described was unlike anything anyone had ever heard of, but the consensus was that it was necromantic in nature. Supposedly it would take power from this 'King of Shadows' person and give it to the person performing the ritual," Vale answered as quietly. He too was nervous now that the druid had given her assessment of the girl's behavior. He didn't know much about the wild, but he had observed similar behavior in the numerous animal familiars that populated the Cloaktower. He knew that many wizards, including himself, relied sometimes on the instincts of their familiars to keep them out of danger, and he had never known those insitincts to be wrong.
"Nimbrethil would know nothing about the dark arts," Sand mused. "Maybe she is reacting to some kind of necromantic magic around the bodies."
"Necromancy?" Casavir had overheard. "The art of cheating death," he said with distaste.
"A simplistic and narrow view," Sand snorted, scorn evident in his voice. "Necromancy deals with everything having to do with death, including controlling and destroying undead creatures. Very useful when battling hordes of zombies I assure you," he added. "While there are some who pursue the necromantic arts in an effort to stave off their own death, most study it so that they can understand how dead creatures come back and how they can be eliminated if they do. I myself am familiar with such arts and thus know how we might be able to combat this unseen danger, if in fact that is what is wrong here."
"Is there any way you can know for certain if that is the problem?" Shandra asked. She had not taken her eyes off Nim as the girl still paced in agitation.
"No, but precautions can be taken in this matter," Sand answered then raised his voice. "Nimbrethil stop your pacing and come here, I have the answer you are looking for." He saw the looks of surprise on the other's faces and hissed a warning. "I am tired and in no mood for hanging about this place. If we are to leave anytime soon I have to get her calmed down, and quite frankly I do not care if I lie to her to do it."
"What have you come up with?" Nimbrethil asked warily as she came to a stop in front of the wizard. She wasn't sure if she believed him or not and so waited for him to make his case.
"The ritual being performed here relied heavily upon necromantic magic," Sand said and saw her eyes widen and then narrow in disgust. "Distasteful, I know, but true none the less. There are certain precautions that can be taken in situations such as this, to insure that no one comes back from the dead."
"Like with the bodies in Ember, sprinkling the wyrmsage on them," Nimbrethil said, remembering what Nya had told her.
"Something like that yes," Sand answered smoothly and convincingly. "I trust your instincts here and believe that this is the cause for your concern. I will make certain that the matter is taken care of. However, as some others find the whole matter rather distasteful, perhaps you should lead them back to camp, leaving Vale and myself to follow once we have finished doing what needs to be done. And do not worry, anything of value will be removed and brought to you once it has been uh, cleansed, so to speak."
Nimbrethil hesitated a bit before nodding in agreement. Sand was the magic user in the group, and, as he trusted her abilities in matters of woodcraft, so she trusted him when it came to matters such as this. "All right, I could use some fresh air about now anyway," she said and then turned and headed towards the door, eager to get away from the room and the creepy things she was feeling.
Vale watched her go and when she was out of earshot turned to Sand with a small smile on his lips. "Never have I heard you lie so convincingly before. I guess the rumors are true that you were gifted with a silver tongue."
"She believes it and that is all that matters," Sand replied. "Whether it is true or not is irrelevant in this situation. You know as well as I do that lack of knowledge of the ritual makes it impossible to say for certain what is wrong. However, there are standard practices used on those who are killed by necromantic magic, and I suggest we follow those in this matter. It may or may not help, but it most definately will not do any more harm. Now let us get to work so we can leave this place."
Vale suddenly shifted uncomfortably and avoided looking Sand in the eye. "I suppose you have the necessary ingrediants and spells preprared already?"
"Of course, as do you I am sure," Sand asked craftily. He had seen the look of embarassement in Vale's eyes and waited for the sun elf to say something. When he remained silent, Sand sighed, "I thought I taught you to be prepared for anything everytime you set off to battle the enemy."
Vale flushed and then looked at his feet. "I remember those lessons Sand but," he raised his eyes, "I must admit that I did not prepare as well as I should have for this venture."
"Why?" Sand asked sharply.
"The situation was extremely urgent and Lord Nasher informed me of it at almost the last minute," Vale answered. "I was in a hurry to get out here and failed to take the time to consider all possible scenarios and outcomes."
"I know you will not like hearing this, and you may even consider what I am about to say disrespectful," Sand stated flatly. "However, mages are not headbashing knights who can charge into battle without thinking. Failure to prepare properly has caused the early demise of many a magic user. Never allow anyone, not even a King, to rush you into a situation such as this ever again. I certainly did not let Lord Nasher do it to me or Nimbrethil and neither should have you."
"What do you mean by that last comment?" Vale asked, puzzled.
"The night we were informed about Garius' plans, Nimbrethil was incapicitated by a sudden influx of suppressed memories," Sand said grimly. Seeing the curiosity in Vale's eyes he waived it away. "That is a bit of a story, the telling of which will have to wait until a better time. The upshot is that she was certainly in no shape to go scurrying off to the keep and into battle. I told Lord Nasher that if he could not wait until I was satisfied that she was recovered, then he could just find someone else. To everyone's suprise, but mine, he agreed. He may be many things, but he was never an outright fool. He understands the importance of being fully prepared to face an unknown enemy. He would never rush into battle without carefully planning for it, and he does not expect those who serve him to do so either."
"I see," Vale said thoughtfully.
"I hope you do, for I would hate to find out that you died prematurely because of such carelessness in the future," Sand said firmly. "Now, time is wasting, so let us get to work."
Vale nodded and together they set to work trying to counteract any lingering effect of the ritual. It was delicate and time sensitive work, but not particularly complex, and they were soon finished. "I think that should just about do it," he told Sand as he cast the last spell.
"Well, we certainly will find out soon enough if we were right or not," Sand answered. "Hopefully I will at least have time to return to Neverwinter and relax for a while. I am getting a little too old to be galivanting about the countryside like this with you youngfolk."
"My, getting cranky in our old age are we Sand?" Vale teased and then laughed at the dark look he got.
"Well, I will be watching you from Mystra's realm and see how well you do when you reach my age youngster," Sand huffed and then headed out of the basement. Inwardly, he was smiling. They had gotten off to a rough start yesterday, but it seemed that things were finally returning to normal. Dear Mystra, let them stay that way.