Baldur's Gate II Shadows of Amn (18 page)

Yoshimo’s face split with a wholly inappropriate grin, and he barked out a single tortured laugh. “I will not make any sad attempt too argue, young druid.”

Abdel sheathed his sword and looked over to see the dragon carefully lifting her eggs from the crumbling cart.

“Yoshimo,” Abdel said, “under any other circumstance I’d just kill you now and get it over with, but I’ve been… thinking. You can come with us. You can have a chance to …”

“Redeem yourself,” Jaheira provided with a smile.

Abdel nodded and said, “Or I will kill you. Believe me that I will kill you.”

Yoshimo bowed deeply and said, “I will trust the son of the God of Murder when he gives me his word on that count, my friend, but I am the least of your still considerable worries. You will not be where Irenicus expects you to be, but you are far from safe. Suldanessellar is far from safe. You’re forgetting the ritual. You’re forgetting what’s coursing through your veins and your half sister’s. Next time the lovely druid here may not be so lucky as to avoid the things you’ve both become.”

Abdel let a long breath pass out through his nose, then he said, “Yes, I’ll need to speak with Mr. Irenicus about that.”

“So will I,” Imoen whispered.

“You will both have your chances,” the dragon said, her voice loud but gentle in the echoing confines of the cavern. “I will set you on the path that leads up, up to the edge of the forest of Tethir. Find an elf named Elhan, and tell him your tale. You have two battles ahead: one for Suldanessellar and one for your souls. I doubt you can win one without winning the other.”

The light was blinding, and they weren’t even out of the tunnel yet. Abdel blinked and looked over at Jaheira. Her eyes were red, and tears traced paths down her dusty, cave-grimed cheeks. Abdel assumed the tears were from the light streaming in from outside, but he knew it might be that she was crying with relief at finally getting out into fresh air. Abdel felt like crying himself.

“The dragon was as good as her word,” Yoshimo said.

Abdel was almost startled by the sound of the assassin’s voice. They were all so quiet from the moment they saw the end of the tunnel, all so relived to see an end to the maddening underground journey. Abdel didn’t even care where they were.

Bring your people to Suldanessellar, Jon Irenicus said into Bodhi’s mind, and be prepared to kill them all.

She was just about to reply when a crossbow bolt punched through the supple, pale flesh of her bare midsection and pushed violently out the other side. The vampire, uninjured despite the momentary mess, looked up to see a group of Shadow Thieves emerge from the darkness behind a large marble mausoleum. In the walled Grave District of Athkatla, the night was overcast and dark, but Bodhi’s undead eyesight saw the five assassins clearly enough. One of them was an older woman she’d heard some of her own people talk about. A priestess of Xvim, this one was, named Neela.

She had heard that Neela was dead, but Bodhi had been dead briefly herself once. The priestess had brought only four others with her, a woman and three men in the all-too-familiar black garb of the Shadow Thieves. Bodhi allowed herself a smile at how silly and yet appropriate they looked here, in a necropolis at night.

“Sheeta …” Bodhi said, nodding in the direction of the assassin now furiously winding his spent crossbow as his fellows advanced. The sound of Bodhi pulling the crossbow bolt out through her back was almost lost under the whir of the little orc woman’s sling.

“Just take them all,” the priestess hissed, her quiet voice carrying clearly in the still night air.

The stone left Sheeta’s sling, and before the assassins could advance more than half a step, it impacted hard against the top of the nearly cocked crossbow. The string pinged off, sent the quarrel dropping impotently to the dry, stubby grass. The assassin jerked his hand away and hissed in pain, then his eyes bulged as he watched his crossbow slowly fall into pieces on the ground at his feet. Bodhi smiled, knowing Sheeta hadn’t hit the crossbow that hard, she just knew where to hit it. Bodhi liked this one.

The priestess hung back, but the three other assassins continued forward. One pulled a short, blunt, pointed thing from under his black tunic. The woman drew two slim throwing knives, and the other man let his scimitar shriek for effect as he slid it slowly out of its scabbard.

“Goram,” Bodhi said, “Nevilla, Naris, and Kelvan, join us, please.”

The priestess was the only one of the Shadow Thieves not to look surprised when four others stepped from behind crypts and large grave markers behind Bodhi. Naris, himself once a member of the Shadow Thieves, spun a gleaming, razor-sharp bardiche and giggled. Kelvan, also a former guild member, drew two short swords. Goram and Nevilla, Bodhi’s vampiric thralls, hissed with bared fangs at the approaching assassins, all three of whom hesitated more than their training should have allowed. The one with the broken crossbow just stood there, confused.

“You’re Shadow Thieves,” the priestess reminded her people. Two of them spared her a glance, but all three came in faster.

The one closest to Bodhi was the one with the stubby, pointed weapon that the vampire quickly recognized as a sharpened wooden stake. So, they were ready for her. The assassin was fast for a human. Bodhi had to give him that, and even with a wooden stake, it took guts to charge a vampire. If Nevilla hadn’t come up to Bodhi’s side so quickly, she might have been in danger from the stake. Instead, she grabbed Nevilla roughly by the shoulder and pulled the thrall in front of her just as the assassin stabbed down with the stake. Nevilla apparently realized what was about to happen, because she let out a frightened shriek when the assassin corrected in mid-stab and went for Nevilla instead of Bodhi. He must have figured one vampire was as good as any.

The stake went into Nevilla’s chest with a loud pop, and the lesser vampire went limp.

The assassin smiled, an expression that proved to be his last. Kelvan was behind him and crossed his two sharp short swords in front of the assassin’s neck, drawing them back and together like scissors. The assassin’s head came off in a fountain of blood that Bodhi avoided by tossing the limp form of Nevilla into the decapitated man’s falling body, pushing them both away from her.

Bodhi gave Kelvan a pleased smile, a smile the man returned with a wolfish grin before turning to meet the other assassins. She’d been lucky to get this one and had been thinking of making him a thrall. Now that Nevilla was dead, she made up her mind to begin the process sooner. Kelvan and Naris had both pleased her most from among the assassins she’d been luring away from the Shadow Thieves on Irenicus’s orders. The Shadow Council, who ruled their petty assassin kingdom like the bureaucrats they were, of course assumed that over the last month and a half Irenicus was forming a rival guild of his own. To some degree this was true, but these assassins would not be sent to kill fat merchants for a pouch of gold coins. These men and women would serve the greater purpose of Irenicus’s, a plan the Shadow Council couldn’t even imagine if they tried. What confused Bodhi more than a little, and disappointed her when she let it, was that this guild of hers was actually good—getting better every day—and was quickly becoming a real rival for the Shadow Thieves. It had started for her as just another in a long string of favors she’d done for the man she admired most, but she’d started to think about… possibilities.

Bringing all these lovely little assassins of mine to some elf city just to kill them, she thought, directing the words to the distant mind of Jon Irenicus, seems like a waste.

Oh no, he replied quickly, not a drop of their blood will be wasted, my dear. These playthings of yours will help me unleash from this child of Bhaal such power… I will bring forth the Slayer.

All that to kill a single elf?

A single elf, yes, Irenicus replied. A single elf whose death will make me immortal again.

“That’s fifteen days,” Abdel said. “We’ve been down there for fifteen days?”

Jaheira and Imoen looked at him, amazed.

“I’m not sure,” Imoen said slowly, “if that seems like more time or less time than it actually felt like.”

“And you were told to expect us?” Jaheira asked the thin, stern-faced elf who was obviously the leader of the patrol.

“After a fashion, druid,” the elf answered in thickly accented Common.

“Who expects us?” Yoshimo asked, suspicious.

The elf looked at Yoshimo blankly, obviously not willing to answer the question. He turned to Jaheira and spoke a sentence or two in flowing Elvish that made Jaheira blush. Abdel felt his hackles raise at not being privy to all of the conversation. Imoen glanced at him and grimaced.

“We’ll need to go with them to their camp,” Jaheira said.

“Another few days … on foot,” the elf patrol leader said calmly, as if describing an afternoon stroll.

Abdel sighed. He’d walked longer.

The elf patrol leader slipped off his green-dyed cloak and handed it to Jaheira, who took it with a nod of thanks. The night was cool, and the trees hissed with a chilling breeze. The dark forest was alive with the sounds of a thousand animals of all sizes and descriptions, singing away the very last traces of indigo in the now-black sky and greeting the spray of stars that peeked through the thick canopy.

The stern elf looked at Abdel and said, “It’s not usual.”

“Nothing about this is usual, sir,” Imoen remarked, letting sarcasm drip over the understatement.

“The queen is in danger,” the elf said. “Exceptions must be made—even to allow humans into the forest.”

“The queen …” Jaheira remarked, shooting a stern, surprised look at the elf. “Ellesime.”

The patrol leader looked at her for a long time without saying anything, then smiled impatiently and said, “There have been exceptions. We have been told to consider this to be one.”

The patrol turned at once, and Abdel, Jaheira, Imoen, and Yoshimo followed them deeper into the forest of Tethir, a place few humans had ever seen.

“We will reach the gate before first light,” the elf said, glancing back casually.

“Gate?” Abdel asked.

Jaheira smiled and sighed, a sound as grateful as it was tired.

“We’ll be in camp by this time tomorrow night,” the elf said.

The assassin with the crossbow finally just turned and ran.

Goram and Naris let him go, keeping their eyes on the priestess. Behind them, Sheeta dropped a stone into her sling and Bodhi eyed the scene with only the necessary concern.

The priestess muttered through a series of seemingly meaningless words and even less meaningful hand gestures. She held something in one hand that disappeared as she coughed out the last word of the prayer. Goram stepped to the side, though Bodhi wasn’t sure what he was trying to avoid. Naris leaped forward with the blade of his bardiche straight out in front of him but couldn’t get to the priestess before she finished her spell.

Naris pulled back his right arm to bring the polearm to bear and froze that way. Bodhi heard the stone from Sheeta’s sling drop onto the hard ground, and the vampire turned to look at her. The short orc woman was also frozen firmly in place. Her little brow was furrowed, and her eyes blazed, but she didn’t—couldn’t—move a muscle. Goram and Kelvan were unaffected, and they came in faster in response.

The Shadow Thief with the scimitar stepped in to meet Kelvan, and both of them smiled evilly at the sound of steel on steel.

“Make that bitch very, very sorry, Goram,” Bodhi said sternly, and the vampire ran straight at the priestess Neela without the slightest hesitation.

When? Bodhi asked Irenicus across the miles that separated them.

When Imoen and Abdel get here, he answered. Soon.

Neela produced what was obviously an enchanted mace. She was bringing it to bear on a rapidly charging Goram. Kelvan was engaged in combat with the scimitar-wielding assassin, and Sheeta and Naris were magically immobilized. Bodhi realized the time had come to involve herself.

The Shadow Thief was managing to drive Kelvan back, and Bodhi spared a glance to check on her man’s progress. Kelvan’s two short swords whirred in the night, striking sparks against the assassin’s scimitar. Bodhi turned away when she saw Kelvan accidentally gut the frozen form of Naris.

“Damn!” Kelvan grunted. The Shadow Thief laughed, pleased with the lucky break.

Goram didn’t make it to the priestess before he was sprayed with a barrage of throwing knives. Bodhi wasn’t worried about Goram—the plain steel blades held no more danger for her thrall than they did for Bodhi—but she was impressed with the Shadow Thief woman’s aim.

“Don’t waste them, Selarra,” the priestess told her charge. “Get the stake.”

The young woman scanned the dark ground for the stake and found it still protruding from Nevilla’s motionless chest. Bodhi smiled and stepped away. She saw Selarra realize that Bodhi was between her and the dead thrall.

Kelvan finally found an opening in the Shadow Thief’s relentless attack and took advantage of the assassin’s growing overconfidence. The Shadow Thief was laughing even when Kelvan gutted him, finally realizing he’d lost when Kelvan’s second blade slid across the front of his throat.

Bodhi’s teasing sidestep brought her to within an arm’s reach of the priestess, and the vampire took advantage of Goram’s first attack with his strong, claw-like fingernails and scratched out with her own talons at Neela’s face. Goram ducked a fast blow from the enchanted mace and had to almost throw himself to the ground to avoid the wild attack. The priestess screamed angrily when Bodhi took her eye in a hard rake of sharp claws. The mace dropped from Neela’s grip.

“I could have taken them all, bitch,” Bodhi told the Shadow Thief priestess. “I could have had all your assassins—your whole guild.”

The vampire turned to Selarra but spoke to her thrall. “You take the priestess,” she said. “I want the one with the knives.”

Jaheira seemed especially wistful passing through the forest the elf patrol leader called Wealdath rather than Tethir. She seemed happy and sad at the same time, as if being there stirred that half of her that might have called this place home.