A SWORD IN THE DARK

'Father, where are we going?'

For the first few hours after leaving Candlekeep, Tal had remained quiet, happily content that he was travelling beyond the confines of the great library, but now he wanted to ask questions. He'd left Candlekeep before, on more than a few occasions to be fair, mostly down to the village that served the library, but there had also been a few visits to Beregost, and once even to Baldur's Gate itself. However, he didn't believe that any of those were Gorion's ultimate destination. So, he was curious.

'North and east at first, to the Friendly Arm Inn,' Gorion replied, tapping his staff in time to his footsteps. 'Two old friends of mine have agreed to meet us there. After there we travel to Baldur's Gate, and from The Gate we take a ship to Waterdeep.'

And that name brought Tal's excitement back up to full boil. Waterdeep, the greatest city in Faerun, the city that every adventurer in The Realms, young or old, had to visit at least once in their lifetime. Tal had dreamed of going to Waterdeep ever since reading about the city as a small boy. Now it seemed that dream was about to come true.

'Do you have friends there as well?' He fought hard to keep any excitement from his voice, not wanting to sound like an overeager child.

'I have friends everywhere, Tal.' Gorion said through a small smile.

Night had truly begun to set in as they walked and talked, and overhead the moon had risen, its silvery light bathing the trees that lined this part of the road in an ethereal glow. Apart from the occasional sounds of animal life roaming around mainly unseen, nobody else travelled with them. So why, Tal wondered, did he have the feeling that they were not alone? A rustle, soft and easy to miss, came from somewhere behind them, and feeling more nervous than he had just moments before, Tal laid his left hand on the sword sheathed on his right hip.

'Father,' he whispered.

But Gorion it seemed had heard something as well, and he turned back, a nimbus of blue light engulfing his hands.

'Whoever you are, show yourself,' he ordered in a cold, hard voice. 'You have to the count of three.'

'Ok, ok,' a panicked voice replied. There was another rustle, and then Imoen emerged from the treeline, clad entirely in black leathers.

'Imoen,' Gorion snapped, sounding angrier than Tal had ever heard him. 'You foolish girl, you could have been killed. What are you doing here?'

She gulped and came closer, her face pale even under the moonlight. Over her shoulder she carried a shortbow, and at her waist was belted a shortsword.

'I didn't want to be left behind, not with Ulraunt and all those stuffy monks.' Her voice and hands trembled under the intensity of Gorion's gaze. 'But how'd you know I was there? I was keeping quiet.'

'Because I make it a habit to listen to the world when I am out in it.' He didn't sound as angry then, just weary and resigned. He sighed. 'Imoen, I know it was hard for you, being left alone and behind like that, but you should not have followed us, it is not safe.'

'I can handle myself,' she protested. 'Almost as well as he can.' Tal snorted. 'And I'm here now, so you can't send me back, not unless you tie me up and drag me back.'

From the look on his face, Tal knew that Gorion was tempted to, and if they hadn't travelled quite as far from Candlekeep as they already had, he likely would have. But they were hours away from the keep, and he didn't think Gorion would want to waste the time going back. Imoen, he guessed, would now be journeying with them. Gorion had obviously come to the same conclusion, because he huffed out a breath, glared at the young woman, and stamped the butt of his staff against the road in frustration.

'Very well,' he grumbled. 'I can't spare the time to take you back. But I warn you now, Imoen, there will be no foolishness, this is not a pleasure walk, if I give you an order you obey, no questions or backchat. Is that understood.'

'Yes Gorion,' she said in a small voice. 'I wouldn't disobey you.'

At that Gorion rolled his eyes, and his lips twitched in what Tal guessed was a silent, desperate prayer. He knew Imoen almost as well as Tal did, and they both knew that doing what she was told was a concept she had difficulty with. Tal hid a smirk with his hand, knowing that the journey had just become a lot more unpredictable.

'Just behave,' Gorion pleaded. 'And keep up.'

He turned on his heel, grumbled something that sounded very unpleasant, and marched away up the road, his staff stamping down with every step. Tal shook his head, flashed his little sister a quick grin, and made to hurry after his father.

'Hey, Immy, hurry up,' he called back to her. 'We got a lot of walking to do.'

They had been walking for another hour, and Imoen's constant prattling was starting to grate on even Tal's nerves, when Gorion held up a hand to bring them to a halt.

'Quiet,' he ordered in a low voice. 'There is a crossroads ahead, and a small party is already there.'

'Who?' Tal kept his voice as low as Gorion did.

'I am unsure.' He moved to the side of the road, peering into the distance. 'It might just be simple travellers, heading for the inn as we are. But bandits are known to be prowling these lands, and the three of us would provide a very tempting target.'

Tal felt Imoen crowd up against him, and he gave her a nudge with his elbow, just to get some breathing room.

'What do we do?' She couldn't keep a little tremble from her voice.

'Proceed with caution,' Gorion answered her. 'This may just be an innocent encounter, and we all will have nothing to worry about.' He turned back to face them, an intense look pinning them both in place. 'But if things go awry, I want the two of you to run. Head for the Friendly Arm Inn and seek out Khalid and Jaheira. They are old friends of mine and will protect you.'

And as he spoke, Tal felt a cold chill of fear course through him. He knew, without knowing how, that whoever waited ahead meant them harm. As Gorion moved off again, Tal settled his hand on the hilt of his sword, and feeling like his boots were filled with iron, he fell in behind him, with Imoen a close presence at his back.

Gorion slowed again, and Tal slipped up alongside him, peering ahead. In the pale moonlight he could make out a half dozen figures lounging at their ease in front of a towering black obelisk. At least three of them were huge, and their height made Tal doubt they were human. There was a muffled clank, confirming at least one of them wore armour, and a tall figure moved away from the group, taking a few steps towards them before planting the tip of a huge sword in the ground at its feet. On its head it wore a black helm crafted to look like a skull, with two curved horns sprouting from its temples.

'Old man.' It was a man's voice speaking, that Tal could almost feel as well as hear. 'I know you're out there, skulking in the dark.'

Imoen uttered a little squeak from behind him.

'Who are you?' Gorion sounded calm, almost unbothered by the welcoming committee ahead.

'Just a traveller upon the road.' There was a flash from behind the figure, and suddenly, shockingly, the crossroads were illuminated in a harsh golden light.

Tal gasped as the scene was revealed properly for the first time, and the urge to turn tail and run was almost overwhelming. It was only Gorion's presence that stopped him doing just that. As he'd first seen, there were only six waiting for them, the smallest of whom was a slender, dark-haired woman wielding a slim blade. Kara-Turan he thought, having met a few people from that far off eastern nation before. Next to her lurked a grizzled old man, clad in black and green robes. A mage for certain, and likely the one who'd provided the light. Behind and looming over those two were a trio of ogres, easily recognisable as such due to their leathery grey-green skin, and large, off-white tusks jutting up from their lower jaws. But none of those five, no matter how dangerous Tal knew they were, held his attention beyond a brief glance. Oh no, all his focus was on the one in command.

And how could it not have been? The man, for Tal knew it was a man despite the demonic appearance he presented to the world, made the blood turn to ice in his veins. There was something about him, an aura of such terrifying cruelty, that Tal could feel it staining the very air. He knew that this man, in his nightmarish spiked black armour, meant to kill them here on the road. The violence that he radiated could not be escaped.

'We wish no trouble this night,' Gorion said, the tone of his voice a warning.

'And you shall have none,' the big man replied. under his helm, Tal could have sworn he saw a pair of eyes gleam gold. 'So long as you hand over your ward, you and the girl can continue on your way unharmed.'

'WHAT?' Tal's outburst rent the night air.

For what reason would anyone want him? He was nothing, no one, an insignificant youth barely out of his boyhood. He hadn't even had time yet to make his mark on the world, let alone be of interest to strangers in the night. The very idea that this terrifying warrior had even noticed him should have been laughable. But he wasn't laughing, nor was anyone else.

'Quiet,' Gorion whispered harshly back at him. 'That is out of the question, my ward stays with me.

'That is indeed unfortunate for you.' The tall man raised his sword with one hand, brandishing it as easily as he would a twig. 'Now you will die as well.'

Even as he raised his blade, the woman moved to flank him, and the mage moved into the shadow of the obelisk. The three ogres, bearing massive clubs, lumbered forward, sneers splitting their brutish features.

'Gorion,' Imoen whispered.

'Run,' he snapped at her. 'You also, Tal. Remember what I told you, find Khalid and Jaheira, and stay alive. Now go, run, I will buy you the time you need.'

And with that he strode away from them, hands held high above his head, robes flaring wildly, and the air around him seeming to crackle. The ogres charged as one, weapons raised, ready to smear him into paste. But Gorion was no helpless old man, and as they charged, he extended his fingers, pointing towards the lead ogre. The thing never stood a chance. Lightning burst from his fingertips, a blue-white streak that hammered into the ogre. It had time for a single bellowing liquid scream, before Gorion's magic cooked it inside its own skin. Even from a distance away, the stench of cooking ogre was horrendous, and enough to make Tal gag as he retreated.

'Leave the old man to me,' the tall man bellowed to the remaining two ogres. 'Bring me the boy, alive or dead.'

Then the world erupted into chaos. The tall warrior charged for Gorion, the woman by his side. Behind them the mage brought his magic to bear, and the night sky lit up with fire and lightning. The two ogres burst past Gorion, bearing down on Tal. He knew he should run, he had no chance against those things coming for him, but he couldn't just leave his father to fight the battle alone. Yet despite his determination, his hand froze on the hilt of his blade, refusing to draw it from its scabbard.

'Immy, run.' He heard the tremble in his voice and felt shamed by it.

There was no answer. He risked a quick look over his shoulder. She was gone. He hadn't even heard her move. That wasn't right, she wouldn't leave without him, she wasn't like that. Then the ogres were on him, and he had no more time to worry about his sister. They slowed and split up on their approach, one coming from his left, the other bearing to his right. Obviously, they meant to squash him between them, and he didn't doubt they'd succeed at that. The one to his left leered at him, pointing a thick finger at his still sheathed blade.

'Little boy not want play?' Its words were uttered in a deep, guttural, mushy grunt. 'That not good, we like play.'

There was a high-pitched scream from ahead, and risking a quick look, Tal saw the other mage turn into a human torch. Then the tall warrior reached Gorion, and with one brutal swing he clove his staff in two. And before Tal's shocked eyes, he then drove that huge blade through Gorion's chest. Tal saw it burst out through bis father's back, and taking a single, wobbling step backwards, he screamed.

'NO!'

Something woke inside him then, something dark and terrible, singing songs of hate that coursed through his blood.

The man raised his helmed head, his glowing eyes fixed on his new prey, grabbed Gorion's head in one gauntleted hand and yanked his sword free. Gorion crumpled to the road, and as the warrior moved forward again, he made sure to step on his body as he advanced. The ogre on Tal's left grinned, swung its club lazily from side to side, then collapsed with a green fletched arrow through its eye. Before Tal could process what had just happened, a hooded figure, wielding a vicious looking bastard sword, leaped past him and cut the remaining ogre down. It swung round to face him, and Tal saw a pair of bright blue eyes under the hood.

'Come with me if you want to live,' the stranger ordered in a low, musical, male voice.

Without waiting to see if he'd be obeyed, the stranger grabbed him by the forearm and ran, dragging him off the road and under the treeline. It was all Tal could do after that to move his feet and keep pace with the stranger. Tal was fast, but the other seemed equally as quick, and amongst the fallen branches and roots underfoot he struggled just to keep upright. From behind, on the road, the terrible warrior was shouting, and he heard someone crash under the trees after them. But it was dark under cover, that magical light had died with its caster, and he heard whoever it was pursuing them running in a different direction.

Eventually Tal and his rescuer emerged from the trees into a wide clearing, and there under the silver moonlight they stopped. The other let him go, and moving his head quickly he looked around. Meanwhile Tal bent over double, desperately trying to suck in some air.

'Girl?' The stranger broke the silence with a whisper. 'Where are you?'

Then Imoen was there, and Tal gripped his sister in a fierce embrace.

'Gorion?' She whispered the question, looking up into his eyes.

Tal couldn't answer her, not with words, all he could do was shake his head mutely. She hitched in a sharp breath, then let it out in a soft sob. And at that small sound, the tears came for him.

'Father,' he whispered, feeling them slide down his cheeks.

He couldn't believe what he'd seen happen there on the road, felt sure that it had to be a nightmare that he'd soon wake from. But the night air was cool on his face, and he could feel Imoen's tears soaking through the thin shirt he wore under his tunic, and when he tugged up his sleeve, he saw that his strange rescuer had left bruises on his forearm, and they were all too real. He couldn't deny the truth, Gorion, the greatest and strongest man he'd ever known, and the memory of that bastard plunging his blade through his father's chest would live with him forever. He fell to his knees, dragging Imoen down with him, both of them quietly sobbing.

'Stay here,' the stranger ordered. 'And keep very quiet.'

And without saying anything more, he slipped back amongst the trees, a silent shadow heading back to the road. Tal watched him go, unsure of why he'd intervened, and still shocked that he still lived. He could have run then, pulled Imoen with him and tried to find his way north, but the stranger had risked his life for them, and that would be a poor way to repay him. So, he stayed in the clearing, clutching Imoen tightly to him. He didn't know what the stranger's intentions were, but he was safe for the moment from that black armoured warrior, who for some inexplicable reason wanted to kill him.

'Tal, what do we do now?' Imoen spoke so softly he barely heard her.

'I don't know, Im,' he replied, stroking her hair.

But that was a lie. Tal knew exactly what he had to do. He'd known it from the very moment his father fell. He would find that murdering bastard and cut his black heart from his chest. That was his mission now.

A rustle came from the trees, and his hand found the hilt of his blade. This time he didn't freeze, and the blade came free smoothly. The stranger reappeared.

'They're gone,' he said without preamble. 'The road is clear.' He pushed back his hood, revealing long russet coloured hair, and the sharp, beautiful features of an elf. 'But even so, I'd suggest sleeping here for the night, in case your ambusher decides to come back.' Tal could only nod along in agreement, too utterly weary to try and argue otherwise. 'A wise decision. Get yourselves to sleep, I shall watch over you.'