Chapter 33
A dull boom echoed from far behind, and the party turned around to see the fading green light above the trees.
"Ah. A Skull Trap," Xzar mused. "Well-made. And in the heart of an enemy camp. Impressive." He smiled at the spot where the light had disappeared before turning and blinking at the party, all of whom (even Montaron) were looking at him.
"...oh. I see," he huffed. "I am a necromancer, so it must have been me, yes?" He folded his arms and frowned at Jaheira. "Well, I am so sorry to disappoint you, Madam Harpy, but I did not cast that one."
Imoen and Garrick exchanged uncertain looks while Eldoth raised a sceptical brow. Montaron slowly turned away and began to scan their surroundings.
"If anyone here should be a suspect, it's me," said Dorean. "I separated myself from all of you to speak to Kagain."
Everyone turned towards him, Khalid's eyes widening as he looked down at the dwarf coolly returning their collective gaze.
"We need to keep moving," Jaheira said abruptly.
"...shouldn't we go back?" Imoen asked hesitantly.
"No," Jaheira answered. She began to turn away, then looked back to Dorean. "I do not retract what I said about this being foolish. But I will concede your point; we will accomplish more by staying on our present course."
Dwarf and half-elf held each other's gaze for a brief moment before the latter looked round at the others.
"Move quietly and follow my lead."
The party nodded and followed Khalid and Jaheira through the undergrowth, with the exception of Xzar who remained behind, watching the spot where the light from the Skull Trap had faded. His brow furrowed, and he rubbed his chin.
After a moment, Imoen walked back and gently tugged on his robes. He blinked and turned to her, then silently allowed himself to be guided back to the waiting party.
..
The silence was starting to weigh on Imoen. It amplified what little noise there was; every boot (or shoe in Xzar's case) descending on fallen leaves and twigs, the rustle of clothing, and the occasional clink of Khalid's splint-mail.
It had been nearly twenty minutes now and unless her senses were playing tricks on her, the forest was growing quieter with every passing minute.
Imoen looked over at her little brother; he was walking ahead of her, crossbow loaded and ready. Her eyes lingered on the sleeve of his right arm, now stained a dark red, and on his torn, blood-stained cloak. For the umpteenth time, she thought about his proposal to leave the camp and take the fight to the bandits, as well as his poisoning of Bartholomew.
Up ahead, Jaheira stopped and raised her hand to signal a halt. As she and Khalid paused to check their surroundings, Imoen sensed movement at her side and looked down to see Montaron opening her food-bag. He grunted in displeasure upon finding it empty again, then closed the flap and moved away.
Rather than speak to the anti-social halfling, Imoen turned to his eccentric yet considerably friendlier partner.
"He seems grumpier than usual."
"He hates forests," Xzar explained idly, still glancing back in the direction where they had seen the effects of the Skull Trap. "More so when there are Harper druids in them."
Eldoth raised an eyebrow. "Truly? I did not know Montaron was so averse to nature."
"Shut up," the halfling replied emotionlessly.
Noticing Dorean and Garrick exchanging a look from the corner of her eye, Imoen looked worriedly over to where Khalid and Jaheira were approaching from the head of the party.
They've been at each other's throats from the moment they've met. Please don't let this happen again. Not now.
"The Black Talon mercenaries are close," said Jaheira. "And they are alert. It will not be easy to approach them undetected."
"I don't see anything," said Dorean. Jaheira frowned at him but did not reply; she had removed her tower shield and was now tying her quarterstaff to her back.
"Where are you going?" Khalid said abruptly. Imoen blinked and then followed his gaze just in time to catch Montaron disappearing into the undergrowth.
"There he goes again," she sighed.
"He does this often?" Garrick asked.
"All the time," Eldoth replied. "It's practically a habit."
"I distinctly remember telling you not to speak," Jaheira said coldly. Eldoth raised his brow at her before giving a polite yet unmistakably mocking incline of his head. Garrick's eyes darted between the two, and he looked about to place himself between them when Khalid suddenly whirled around.
Two arrows sped out of the undergrowth and lodged themselves in his tower shield.
"Cover!"
At his command, Imoen immediately crossed the short distance between her and Dorean and tackled him to the ground.
"I don't see them!" Garrick's voice shouted.
"Straight ahead! At them!" Jaheira answered.
As arrows flew above their heads, Dorean and Imoen scrambled on their hands and knees towards a nearby evergreen tree. Imoen paused to lift her head and look around.
She spotted Khalid and Jaheira, tower shields aloft and gathering arrows as they advanced towards the unseen enemy. The latter's quarterstaff was still tied to her back. Garrick was following close behind the half-elves in a low crouch with crossbow in hand. Imoen's eyes swept the rest of the area, panic rising in her belly as she spied Eldoth's blue cloak slinking away into the undergrowth. Xzar and Montaron had disappeared.
"Imoen, move!" Dorean hissed.
The two of them reached the large evergreen. Standing up, Imoen hurriedly drew her bow, nocked an arrow, closed her eyes and breathed deeply before looking around. Her eyes widened as she realized that all of their companions were now nowhere in sight.
"We're scattered," Dorean said without looking at her. Imoen glanced at him and swallowed involuntarily upon seeing him lower his crossbow to clutch his right arm.
Turning to the other side of the tree, Imoen breathed in deeply again and then peered around the trunk. An arrow passed within inches of her temple and she swiftly pulled her head back.
"I can't see anyone," she whispered, her heart thudding loudly against her ribs. "It's too dark."
Without turning around, Dorean reached into his pack and held up a glass vial.
"Drink it now."
Imoen hesitated and Dorean's hand jerked the vial insistently. She then reached out and took it, her shaking hands fumbling and dropping her arrow as she removed the stopper and pressed the vial to her lips.
As she drank, her ears picked up the sounds of battle somewhere close by. For a second, she thought she heard Jaheira roaring a battle cry to the heavens.
She lowered the now-empty vial and blinked as the world of shadows and colour fled from her eyes.
Infravision.
"They're getting further away from us," said Dorean, his voice low and grim.
He gave a quick peek around his side of the tree and swiftly ducked back as an arrow struck the tree trunk, spreading a small layer of frost over the bark.
"Sniper," he said, turning to her. "In a tree, thirty yards ahead." He grimaced behind his beard. "Four others with him. We've been bloody cut off."
Imoen looked around, dismay mounting as her newly-acquired infravision quickly noted the distance between them and the other trees.
We're pinned down.
Dorean leaned out and fired his crossbow. Imoen did the same with her bow, firing at the first moving thing she spotted. Her arrow sped into the undergrowth, narrowly missing a mercenary swordsman as he ran in a half-crouch off to the side and disappeared behind a tree. Imoen pulled back just as an arrow passed through where her head had been.
"They're flanking us," she said, breathing heavily. "We can't stay here."
When no answer came, Imoen suddenly whirled toward Dorean, afraid that he had been hit.
He was looking at her, crossbow lowered and unloaded in his hands.
"Dorean...?"
His eye-lids lowered, and he reloaded the weapon without looking at it, keeping his gaze on her.
She saw the steely glint in the gray orbs of his eyes, and realized what he had decided.
She reached out to grab him just as he moved from behind the tree.
The arrow struck him in the chest. He fell and rolled, and the sound of the wooden shaft snapping was deafening, and she heard his teeth grind loudly as he lifted himself to one knee and fired.
A strangled cry emitted from up ahead and high above, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground.
Dorean's crossbow slipped from his fingers and he fell to his hands and knees.
"Go," he croaked loudly as blood began to pour from his lips.
Imoen stood frozen in place, bow and arrow in her hands. She ignored the sounds of the Blacktalon closing in behind her with sword raised. Her eyes remained fixed on Dorean's face, watching his brown beard turn dark red.
"Do as I say!" Dorean screamed. "Get to the others! Now!"
She felt her own body move, dodging the Blacktalon's sword.
Imoen fled through the undergrowth, leaping over tree roots and ducking her head to avoid low-hanging branches. Arrows flew past her, embedding themselves in plants and trees and covering them in frost.
She ran like she had on the night that they left Candlekeep.
..
The world was turning increasingly blurry. His senses were becoming dulled, save for the starbursts of pain in his chest.
Falling onto his side, Dorean listened to the fading footsteps of Imoen and her pursuers. They were quickly drowned out by the approaching footfalls of the two remaining swordsmen.
He tried to play dead, only to nosily vomit more blood.
"She got away," one of the Blacktalons murmured, glancing in the direction where Imoen had fled.
"The others will get her, do not worry. At least we got this one," said the second mercenary. He placed a boot on Dorean's stomach, rolled him onto his back and raised his sword with the tip pointed down.
"Wait! It's him; the dwarf. The one we're supposed to take alive."
The first mercenary kneeled down over Dorean's supine form and swiftly examined his wound. A choked cry escaped Dorean's lips as the broken arrow was pulled out of his chest, and his left hand scrambled for his belt knife. The Blacktalon's hand grabbed his wrist.
"I wouldn't fight back if I were you," he said.
Dorean struggled feebly as the mercenary, keeping his right hand firmly gripped around the dwarf's wrist, deftly removed and poured a healing potion onto his wound.
The knives in his belt and sleeve were taken, and he grunted in pain as he was hoisted over his healer's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The overwhelming pain in his chest settled slowly into a dull agony as he was borne away.
For some reason, he thought of Imoen's nagging for him to put on weight, and despite everything, he could not suppress a low chuckle.
..
Despite Imoen's best efforts to throw them off, the two Blacktalons continued to pursue her, loading and firing their longbows on the run. She ducked and wove through plants and past trees, using the darkness and the foliage as cover, but they stubbornly refused to lose her. An arrow passed within inches of her ear, causing her heart to skip a beat as she nimbly leapt over a tree root.
Get to the others, he had told her. Anger washed over her, and she contemplated turning back.
No. He is right. I can't rescue him alone.
Tears briefly formed at the corners of her eyes and were blown away almost immediately as she rolled under a low tree branch and sprang to her feet. The two mercenaries had ceased firing and were now focused on catching up to her. Their footfalls and the rustling of parted foliage was not far behind. She did not dare look behind her or slow down, much less shoot back.
The sounds of battle were much closer now, and Imoen ran so quickly that she reached the battleground before her senses caught up to her.
Her breath caught in her throat as her infravision picked out the cooling heat signatures of a half-dozen corpses littering the forest floor; one was missing an arm and head, while another's face had been grotesquely caved in.
"Imoen!"
She looked up to see Garrick calling to her from behind a tree, and Khalid and Jaheira a short distance away fighting four Blacktalon swordsmen. The half-elves were standing back-to-back, Jaheira wielding a wooden club along with her tower shield.
Then an arrow slammed into Imoen's back, sending her face-first into the leaf-strewn dirt.
As pain blossomed throughout her torso, Imoen looked up to see Garrick fire his crossbow at her two pursuers, only to receive an arrow in the right shoulder that spun him around and sent him to the ground.
Gritting her teeth, Imoen lifted her head and reached behind her to grab the arrow. A low gasp escaped her lips as she pulled it out, and she started to crawl towards the fallen bard.
She had gotten five paces before blood-curdling screams suddenly filled the air. Rolling onto her side, Imoen looked up to see both Blacktalon archers screaming at the top of their lungs as they clutched at the hands clamped over their faces from behind.
Releasing both men, Xzar stepped past as they fell, ignoring their anguished howls as boils began to fester on their faces and hands where his own had made contact. He reached Imoen, took her by the shoulders, dragged her over to where Garrick now lay at the base of the tree, then kneeled down and drew a healing potion from his robes.
"I'm fine!" Imoen protested with a raise of her arms; indeed, while her back was searing with pain, it wasn't nearly as bad as she feared. "Give it to him!" She tilted her head to Garrick who now had both hands clamped around the arrow in his shoulder; his head was bleeding as well from where it had impacted with a tree root.
Xzar paused and looked at Garrick. The bard's boyish face silently pleaded to him for help. Pouting, Xzar then reached over and pulled out the arrow, causing a cry of pain from the minstrel. He then carelessly poured half the contents of the potion onto the wound and then roughly pressed the vial to Garrick's mouth; the bard's eyes darted to the two Blacktalon mercenaries writhing in agony and clutching their increasingly reddened and swollen faces as he quickly drank from the vial still clutched in Xzar's hands.
"Thank you," he coughed, turning his head to see Jaheira barely avoiding a sword-thrust to her thigh. "We have to help them-"
Xzar stood up, raised his arms, and launched a spell. Imoen recognized it immediately as it left his hands.
Horror.
The four Blacktalon swordsmen all suddenly recoiled in terror from seemingly nothing. Three turned and fled while the fourth fell to his knees and buried his face into the dirt.
Khalid slowly lowered his sword and shield. His shoulders slumped and his head turned from left to right as he gazed down at things that only he could see. His tanned features had turned pale, and his eyes were empty and unfocused.
Then Jaheira's hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and she shouted his name along with other words in Elvish.
Imoen glanced at Xzar standing next to her; the wizard's eyes were locked on Khalid, and even with her infravision, they seemed to glow with unnatural fervour.
Flute music suddenly played from beside them, and Imoen turned to see Garrick with a wooden flute in his hands and at his lips, his expression now oddly calm.
Khalid abruptly blinked and looked at Jaheira in surprise, then clumsily hugged her while holding his sword and shield. The half-elves embraced each other for a few more seconds before Jaheira suddenly let go, marched straight up to Xzar, and punched him hard across the face.
Imoen and Garrick reeled back as Jaheira then reached down, grabbed the supine wizard by the front of his robes and pulled her fist back again.
"The little one has been captured," Xzar said. His voice was clear and devoid of emotion. "Search north-east, druid, and you will find him."
Jaheira froze with one hand still gripping Xzar's robes. She stared down at the callous Zhent, who blinked as blood from his smashed nose flowed into his eye.
"Jaheira!" Imoen implored, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's true, I was there! Dorean's badly hurt, we have to get to him now!"
Jaheira remained still. She did not take her eyes off of Xzar.
"Jaheira!" Imoen shouted again. She turned her teary eyes onto Garrick and Khalid, both of whom had not moved.
Then Khalid suddenly spun around and took an arrow on his shield, and everyone darted for cover save for Xzar, who first rolled across the ground before joining Imoen and Garrick behind their tree.
"More of them!" Khalid yelled.
"Leave them to me," Xzar replied. "All of you, go and save the little one."
Imoen and Garrick looked at him and then at each other. Jaheira on the other hand reacted immediately.
"Khalid!"
She ran out from behind her tree with tower shield raised.
"Imoen! Garrick! Follow me!"
Khalid and Garrick obeyed at once, retreating from the arrows as Jaheira plunged into the undergrowth. Imoen hesitated, looking up at Xzar.
"You heard her," he said. "Go help your brother."
Imoen blinked, then set her jaw and nodded.
Xzar watched as she sped from behind the tree after the others; the back of her now dirty pink shirt was stained red, but only slightly; her armour had taken most of the arrow-head.
He lowered his gaze to the ground and leaned his back against the tree as the three Blacktalon swordsmen accompanied by two archers reappeared, pulling their fourth comrade to his feet. Their faces were contorted in rage.
"We're going to skin you alive!"
Xzar reached into his robes and removed his medallion. He gazed down at the image of the jawless skull on the purple sun. Blood dripped from his broken nose onto the holy symbol.
As the mercenaries advanced with swords and bows raised, Xzar lifted his gaze from the medallion in his hand, and his green eyes shined brightly in the night.
The foremost of the Blacktalons rounded the tree and lunged at him, and Xzar smiled as he sidestepped the blade and brought his palm up to the man's face.
..
The Blacktalon carrying him was strong; he neither slowed nor faltered as he bore Dorean on his right shoulder and followed his comrade.
The dwarf tried to focus on their ongoing direction. However, the combination of the stabbing pain in his chest along with his vision being upside-down and consisting mainly of the mercenary's back all conspired to prevent it.
So he instead pretended to have passed out, and when he was suddenly released and thrown to the ground, it was all he could do not to let out a grunt of pain.
"Who in the hells is this?" said a new voice, its Iriaeben accent considerably thicker than that of the two mercenaries who had captured him.
"The dwarf, sir," said Dorean's now-former carrier. "The one we want alive," he added with an invisible question mark at the end.
There was a half-second's pause. "I know that!" A heavy boot nudged Dorean's head. He remained still and kept his eyes shut. "Looks dead to me."
"He's alive, sir. Unconscious."
"Shut up. Well, well...Khosann will reward me for this."
"Lieutenant Raiken!" another Iriaeben accent sounded a short distance away. "Lieutenant!"
Dorean chanced a peek; two men were currently standing over him, one his carrier and the other a shorter man with white hair contrasting with his youthful features. The latter was wearing chain-mail and wielding a war-hammer.
"What are you doing here, Private?! You're supposed to be flanking the enemy!" the man called Raiken shouted. Dorean's carrier winced as spittle issued from the officer's lips.
"My squad was ambushed, sir! Three dead, I don't know what happened to the others. Viconia sent me. She needs reinforcements!"
"Useless, incompetent drow! Twenty of my men and she still could not fulfil a simple task! I should have handled this myself!" Raiken paused. "Who ambushed you? Flaming Fist? Dented Shields?" He fell silent for a few seconds. "Is it the elf?"
"N-no," the Black Talon answered with an involuntary shudder. "Just one man, and he's smaller. Dwarf or halfling, I didn't get a good look at him." He paused. "Sir, those reinforce-"
"One man?! You lot were attacked by one man and you ran here to ask for more?! I should kill you for your cowardice!" Raiken spat, brandishing his war hammer. The two Blacktalons reeled back, and as their attention was diverted, Dorean turned his head very slightly to look around; five more mercenaries were standing nearby, including the one who led his carrier here.
"One man! One man!" Raiken screamed. "Khosann will have my head for this!"
"Sir?" one of the other five mercenaries stepped forward. "Lieutenant Teven is not far off. We could-"
"If you think I am going to ask anything of my blighted brother, you are sorely mistaken," Raiken snarled. "Now you," he said, pointing at the reporting Blacktalon with his hammer. "Get back out there and kill those bastards before I-"
There was a sudden, familiar whizz and the reinforcement-requesting Blacktalon suddenly pitched forward with a cry, a crossbow bolt embedded in his back.
As brown vines burst up from the ground, scattering leaves and twigs into the air, Dorean sprang to life and attempted to roll away, only to feel rough hands grabbing at his cloak. He kicked out with one boot while the other scrambled for his boot-knife. The Blacktalon who had carried him earlier lifted him up off the ground again, pressed the dwarf's back to his chest, and swiftly held a knife to his beard.
"Stop!" the man shouted.
Dorean ceased struggling as the blade of the knife cut into his beard, and his eyes swept over his surroundings.
The Blacktalons were now all ensnared around the legs, including Dorean's captor.
Khalid and Jaheira were to his left, each with a dead Blacktalon in front of them. Garrick and (Dorean's heart leapt) Imoen were to his right, leaning around trees and pointing their ranged weapons at the mercenaries.
"Call off these things!" Raiken shouted, struggling against the vines curling around his knees. "Now, or your friend dies!"
"Jaheira!" Imoen pleaded. Dorean glanced at Jaheira, and their eyes met briefly before the vines slowly retracted back into the earth.
Reaching down and picking up a shield, Raiken sneered at the druid and her husband before looking at Imoen and Garrick, both of whom had their weapons trained on Dorean's captor. The three other Blacktalons moved back from the half-elves to surround Raiken, their swords and longbows at the ready.
"Drop your weapons!" Raiken commanded.
"So you can kill us?" Garrick answered. "I don't think so."
"You don't seem to understand the situation, freelancers," Raiken answered derisively. "I have your friend, and I am taking him with me. And unless you want him to get his throat cut, you will drop your weapons right now."
Nobody moved. Raiken looked from one duo to the other, his sneer widening.
"You think I won't kill him because I have orders not to?" he snarled. "Well...you might be right." He turned to Dorean's captor. "Cut off one of his ears."
"You do it and I'll kill you!" Imoen shrieked, her arrow aimed directly at the face of the man holding the dwarf.
"What are you waiting for?!" said Raiken. "Cut his bloody ear off now!"
"I'm afraid I won't be doing that, Lieutenant," the Blacktalon answered.
Dorean blinked and glanced up. The man's Iriaeben accent was gone.
Before anyone could react, the Blacktalon moved; he released Dorean, stabbed Raiken in the forearm holding his war hammer, then wrapped his free arm around the officer's neck and spun him around to face the other Blacktalons, all in the span of three seconds.
"What-?!" the mercenary who had accompanied him exclaimed.
As he tightened his hold on Raiken's neck, the man's face flickered, then was replaced by a different, very familiar one.
"Imposter!"
"Thank you for stating the obvious," Eldoth replied dryly.
The remaining Blacktalons' eyes darted from Eldoth to Raiken and then the party, uncertainty building on their faces. Imoen dashed forward to where Dorean had fallen, placing herself between him and the Blacktalons. She aimed her short-bow at the nearest one who stood only several paces away.
"Three of you, gentlemen," said Eldoth. "Six of us. I suggest you put down your weapons and leave."
"Don't you dare-hurk!" Raiken gasped as Eldoth's forearm pressed into his neck.
"Do you really wish to risk your lives for this man?" Eldoth asked. "Would he do the same for you, I wonder?"
Dorean slowly rose to his feet and stood next to Imoen. Khalid, Jaheira and Garrick moved closer, weapons and shields raised. The three Blacktalons remained where they stood, exchanging looks with one another.
After a moment, they lowered and dropped their swords and longbows, then turned to run.
Montaron then leapt down from the tree branch above and killed them all.
He wiped his dagger on the sleeve of one of the mercenaries before sheathing it and proceeding to search the bodies.
No one spoke for a long moment.
"You used him as bait," said Jaheira, her eyes boring into Eldoth's as she gestured at Dorean with her shield.
"I needed- hold on," Eldoth replied. He raised his hand and brought the pommel of his knife onto the top of Raiken's head, cutting off the latter's loud cursing. "I needed a way to get to him. Now we have a means to bargain; Taugosz Khosann will grant us passage in exchange for one of his officers. Am I correct?" he added to Garrick.
"...yes he would," Garrick replied. Dorean noticed that the bard was now holding his crossbow left-handed; he was bleeding lightly from his shoulder and forehead. "Khosann is not an unreasonable man."
"We had the situation in hand," said Jaheira. She stepped towards Eldoth who calmly raised an eyebrow at her approach.
"Would you rather it had been someone else who had taken hold of Dorean?" the bard replied. "Him, perhaps?" he gestured with his head at the unconscious Raiken whose chain-mail shirt he was now removing. Jaheira's glare did not falter.
"Still more of 'em out there," Montaron said abruptly; he had picked up Raiken's war hammer and was now tying it diagonally onto his back next to his shortsword. "Includin' a drow."
"Where's Xzar?" asked Dorean, rubbing his chest.
"He told us to leave him and rescue you," Garrick answered, looking off into the trees.
"We should get to him, then," Dorean answered. He was looking anywhere but at Imoen, who was quietly staring down at him. "We're not out of this yet." He blinked and looked up as Khalid stepped forward and handed him a healing potion. "...thank you."
Khalid remained in place for a moment, staring forlornly down at the dwarf. He then gave a small smile, placed a hand on Dorean's shoulder, then nodded to Jaheira.
"Can you walk?" Jaheira asked.
"Yes," Dorean replied. He turned away from her and Imoen to follow Khalid who was now moving away. "I've taken worse than this."
"Hey," said Montaron.
Dorean turned just in time to catch his crossbow in both arms. He gave a loud grunt of pain, looked down at the weapon and then at the halfling.
"I told ye not to lose it," the assassin said emotionlessly. He held Dorean's gaze for a few seconds before turning away to follow Khalid.
The party began its journey back towards the camp, Khalid leading them at a brisk pace while keeping his tower shield raised and his head on a swivel.
Dorean and Imoen neither looked at nor spoke to each other; Imoen simply moved next to him, and he quickened his pace to stay abreast of her. Silent words passed between them, though their expressions did not change in the slightest.
"Would you like me to carry you again?" Eldoth suddenly asked from behind them.
"...no, thank you," Dorean answered, glancing over his shoulder at the bard who had Raiken in a fireman's carry. "You're burdened enough already."
"Very well. And, please accept my apologies for your beard."
"Accepted," Dorean replied, stealing a glance at Jaheira who was glaring at Eldoth like she wished to burn him to death with her mere gaze.
..
A grisly sight greeted the party upon their arrival in the area where Imoen had located the battling half-elves and Garrick; all six of the then-remaining Blacktalon mercenaries now lay dead with their eight other comrades. From the looks on their faces, their deaths were not pleasant.
Khalid's eyes lingered on the spot where he had been hit by the Horror spell, and he gave a quick, light shake of his head before resuming his lookout for any danger.
"Your partner is efficient, I will grant him that," Eldoth said to Montaron.
"Not so," the halfling replied, walking over to the two men who had chased Imoen. He drew his knife and stabbed them both in the neck. "He left these two breathin'." He glanced briefly at Imoen who had closed her eyes and turned away.
"I don't see him," said Garrick. "Do you think he's-"
"Movement," Khalid hissed.
The party all raised their weapons at the sound of numerous rustling plants, save for Montaron who had already disappeared from sight. Khalid and Jaheira moved to the front and sides of the party with shields raised.
Jessa Vai appeared with mace and shield in hand, followed by nearly two dozen Flaming Fist mercenaries. She regarded the party silently for a moment before signalling orders to her men; they fanned out in groups of four, with three men remaining behind with her.
"The reinforcements I requested have arrived," Vai said shortly. "They've brought supplies and medicine."
Nobody in the party moved. Vai's expression and voice were like granite. She turned her head to the left to survey the dead Blacktalon mercenaries, accentuating the fresh scars on her temple.
"Nice work," she said, turning back to the party and looking at Raiken. "Who's that?"
"One Lieutenant Raiken of the Blacktalon company, my lady," Eldoth replied, stepping forward and depositing the unconscious officer at her feet. Imoen winced as Raiken's face impacted with the ground.
"I see," said Vai. "And where are the other two? The halfling and wizard?"
Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances.
"You don't know," Vai answered for them.
"W-what is this?" asked Khalid, looking around. Half of the Flaming Fist mercenaries were now appearing to secure the area.
The rest had surrounded the party.
Jessa Vai slowly returned her mace to her hip.
"Dorean of Candlekeep," she announced gravely. "You are under arrest."