Chapter 72: West Harbor Destroyed
Nimbrethil staggered but managed to maintain her footing as she was thrust suddenly out of the warm light that had surrounded her. She had been leery of entering the portal, but once inside had been surpised by how pleasant the experience was. As she straightened up and looked around at where she was, she instinctively knew that something had gone wrong. Anyone who could create something like the Song Portal would surely have made exiting it as easy as entering it had been. Hearing cursing and the clanging of metal, she turned just in time to see Shandra land right on top of Casavir and Kelgar, both of whom had landed hard on the ground, the weight of their armor obviously the cause. Sand she noted had managed to stay on his feet, but then he only wore light robes and was an elf as well. It made sense that he would have good reflexes. Neeshka, despite being light armored, had unfortunately tripped over Kelgar's feet and landed face down in the grass at the feet of Bishop who was standing and glaring angrily at Zhjaeve.
"What in the hells was that gith?" the ranger snarled. "If that was supposed to happen then I will eat my bow."
"Know that we are not where we should be," the cleric replied, unable to hide her apprehension at the knowledge. "Something has disrupted the powers of the portals."
Nim simply rolled her eyes at her. "Gee Zhjaeve, we would never have figured that for ourselves," she sneered, her voice and eyes filled with contempt for the gith. "If you have nothing useful to say then just keep your mouth shut." She saw that Casavir was giving her a frown and knew he was displeased by her tone, but she really didn't care anymore. The gith doled out information like it was something rare and precious and Nim was tired of it. "You have done little since you joined with us to convince me that freeing you from your cell in Neverwinter was the right choice. I don't know what your game plan is, but believe me when I say I find your presence more of a burden every day you are with us."
"She did explain about the statues and rituals, don't forget that Nim," Casavir spoke up.
"Yes, but I'm sure that Sand, with his centuries of knowledge and exceptional deductive reasoning, would have been able to figure it out for me. It would have just taken a little longer that way, so don't try to convince me that what she did was all that big a deal," Nim snorted derisively. Not wishing to discuss things further, she turned away to try to determine just where on Faerun they were this time. She moved away from them slowly, her nose twitching as she tested the air while her ears listened for any sound that might provide a clue. She was getting the feeling that she knew this place they had landed in, but she didn't immediately recognize anything.
Before following his little elf, Bishop turned to eye the gith, a knowing and sardonic look in his eyes. "I warned you yesterday about Nim's feelings and you just looked at me like I had two heads. I'd say she just proved the "truth" of "my words" and driven them home, hasn't she?" he smirked before turning to follow the elf.
Zhjaeve refused to allow the alarm she was now feeling to show in her eyes. She was losing control of things and this did not sit well with her. She knew better than anyone the risks of too much information being given too quickly. However, she had to admit that perhaps she had been too cautious in her approach. Granted she had never met someone quite as stubborn or strong willed as Nimbrethil before, and thus had no way of gauging how the girl would react. That, combined with the elf's uncommonly strong mental abilities, made it nearly impossible to employ the usual methods of her people: mind probing to judge when to impart useful information. It was now clear that only blunt truth and forceful persuasion would work in guiding Nim along the right path. Yet, such methods were too close to the methods of the Illithids for her comfort. Giving herself a mental shake she determined that her personal discomfort must be pushed aside if she was to be of use.
"We had best get moving or we'll get left behind," Kelgar grunted as he strode by them in the wake of the two rangers. However, he didn't have to go far before he saw them both stopped at the edge of what appeared to be a destroyed village. He heard the others come up and Casavir whisper "Dear Tyr" before what his eyes were seeing registered in his brain. "It looks like West Harbor, but what happened, how?" he whispered.
"It is West Harbor," Nim stated, her tone more curious than anything else.
"Oh Nim, this was your home, I'm so sorry," Shandra spoke up, sounding on the verge of tears.
Nim turned to look at her, a puzzled expression on her face. "Why are you sorry? This village was not my home, it was simply where Daeghun's house was."
"But, you knew these people all your life," Shandra said, shocked at the lack of emotion from the elf. "Surely the fact that they are gone is upsetting to you."
"Not really," Nim shrugged before moving forward into the village. She moved quickly to the left and up a small hill to where her foster father's house stood. Looking at it, she could easily see that it had been destroyed by a fire of some kind and the smell that lingered was one of brimstone. She had so far only seen two bodies, but neither had been burned, so she wasn't sure exactly who or what had attacked. However, she could sense no sign of life anywhere, so whoever or whatever had done this had been very thorough.
"She doesn't care?" Shandra said in shocked surprise.
"Don't sound so surprised farm girl," Bishop snorted. "Most of the people of the village ignored her as she did them. It's not like she had many friends here to miss and one of them was dead before she even left." He hurried after Nim and came to a stop as she stood in front of her home. Placing a hand on her shoulder he gave it a squeeze, letting her know he was with her and would support her should she need him. As the others joined them, he turned his attention to the house. "I doubt Daeghun was here," he said softly.
"I know he wasn't," Nim replied firmly. "He knew as well as I did that the village was in danger, even though neither of us knew what form that danger would take. He would have stayed only long enough to try to convince the others of the wisom of leaving. I know he would have felt obligated to warn the other villages in and around the Mere, and thus would not have wasted time trying to change their minds if they proved stubborn. Knowing Harbormen as I do, I suspect that few heeded him and so he moved on." Turning on her heel, she moved down the hill and turned towards the center of the village, hoping to find something to tell her what happened.
The first body she came upon was that of Webb Mossfeld. Crouching down, she saw that he had a weapon in his hand, but that it appeared to not have been used. His face was a pale white, almost as if all color had been bled from it, and there was a faint odor wafting up that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. The body lying a few feet from him had obviously been killed in a more conventional method judging by the gashes and burns. It was almost as if the village was attacked by two very different enemies using very different tactics. Seeing robes out of the corner of her eye, she stood up and turned to face Sand as he stood looking down at Webb.
"Sand, this body here has the same scent as Garius' body did," she told him. "I now have to wonder about your confidence in that ritual you spoke of back then. Whatever killed Webb here was using a form of necromantic magic that seems to be unusually powerful and deadly. His body is as perfect as a marble statue and just as cold. What could cause that condition, hmmm?"
Sand saw the suspicion in her eyes and felt that it would be best if he was completely candid with Nim, even if it meant embarassing himself in front of the others. "Well, ahh, I know that I always speak and act as if I know the answer. However, the truth is that sometimes what I say is merely a mixture of deductive reasoning and guesswork based on extensive study and research. To be honest, I have no knowledge on which to base an opinion of what we see here. With Garius', how we handled the situation made sense based on what we knew at the time. Now, upon seeing this, I have to admit that perhaps what we did was not effective."
"So you're saying that perhaps Garius' corpse and the corpses of his henchman may not have been disposed of properly?" Nim asked.
"That is a possibility yes," Sand said and looked her square in the eye, bracing himself for an outburst or even a physical display of the displeasure he was sure she felt. So it was with surprise that he saw her smile triumphantly. "You do not seem angry or, uhm, upset."
"I might be if not for the fact that I had already guessed that what you did was possibly not as effective as you made it seem," Nim chuckled. "Like all elves, I have a near perfect memory of events, and I do remember the way Vale seemed slightly unsure of what he read in the tome about the ritual. That combined with the fact that I sensed something I never had before told me that perhaps you were being a bit optimistic. I have battled undead on several occasions and know what necromantic magic usually smells like. What I smelled from Garius is similar to what I smell here, and it smells like no magic I have ever encountered. Seeing as how all these events have ties to the Illefarn Empire which died out long before you were even born, how then could you possibly know about what types of magic they might have used? You didn't even know of the magic they used to tap the Weave to create the Guardian."
Sand heard the gasps of surprise from the others and knew it mirrored his own. He had forgotten that, unlike most wood elves, Nim was quite intelligent. He had to wonder now if perhaps she had some mix of another elven race in her blood. He knew that Daeghun's knowledge came from centuries of experience. Nim wasn't even a full adult yet, but there was no denying how smart she really was, and he realized how much of an advantage it gave them. She kept this ability tightly under wraps and thus there was no way their enemies could ever find out about it. They would most likely assume the same thing that most did: that Nim was all brawn and little brain. He realized that it would behoove him to consider ways to challenge her and make her use her intellect more. Perhaps it would help her to better understand what she faced and make better and quicker judgements on courses of action. While they all stood there in stunned silence, Nim had moved off further into the village, Bishop right behind her, and he shook himself out of his frozen state and followed quickly.
Nim heard Bishop chuckling softly and turned to look at him, one eyebrow arching in surprise. "What is so amusing?"
"I just found it funny to see the wizard struck speechless," Bishop laughed. "I thought I'd never see the day that would happen."
Nim's lips curved in a slight smile that faded quickly as she saw a familiar body just ahead. Stopping, she stared silently down at Georg, her heart filling with sadness for the first time. Kneeling next to him, she gently turned Georg's face toward her and stared into his sightless eyes. "You foolish old man, you know Daeghun would never tell you to abandon the village unless he had a very good reason for it," she whispered. "Why didn't you listen? Why on earth would you stay?"
"Probably because the rest of the villagers refused to leave," Casavir said quietly. "He would not have left if it meant abandoning those he was honor bound to defend."
"That is just plain stupid," Bishop snorted. "I thought only paladins had that warped sense of duty and honor."
"Yes it was stupid of him to stay," Nim said quietly, unable to feel angry about it. "But, like I said he was a Harborman, and they just don't back down from a fight. Daeghun was never the best with words, but even the most gifted speakers in the world would not have been able to convince the villagers to leave. Harbormen too often need proof before they believe something is true."
"Know that whatever happend here was quick and that they did not suffer long," Zhjaeve said quietly, hoping that the elf would find some comfort in the knowledge. "Know that what we seek will not be found here, yet will also not be far away."
"In the Mere there are some old ruins that Daeghun said were remnants of ancient Illefarn," Nim nodded. "It is where I found the first shard with Bevil," she swallowed hard, not wishing to dwell right now upon the fact that her only other real friend from the village was now dead as well.
"Then let us get out of here and find these ruins," Bishop spoke up. "I doubt we'll find anyone alive here." He had made an observation that he hesitated to voice because he was unsure of just how deep Nim's feelings for Bevil were, but he knew that he didn't want her stumbling upon his body if indeed he were dead. "I know it's not much help, but I don't think all the villagers were here when the attack occured. There just aren't enough bodies."
Nim looked at him in surprise, realizing that he was right and for a brief moment hope flared inside her, a hope that she quickly squashed. Bevil may not have been here when the attack occured but that didn't necessarily mean he made it out alive. Their enemy had been corrupting the Mere for months before she had even left and it had only gotten worse since. Travel through the Mere and the lands around it now was risky at best and deadly at worst. The odds of Bevil surviving the journey were slim.
"You're right, we can't do anything more here and should move on," Nim stood up, her voice firm once more. "This road leads into the swamp," she said and then started down it, the others following silently in her wake. The village was dead and soon the land would reclaim it again and erase all evidence of the stubborn humans who had refused to back down even against overwhelming odds. They had paid the ultimate price and other than Georg, she would not waste her time mourning them. Now, she had to focus on saving her true home, the woods that surrounded them.