Baldur's Gate II Throne of Bhaal (11 page)

With their rapid pace it didn’t take long until they reached the main audience chamber. A number of armed Calimshan soldiers were positioned strategically around the large open room, as well as nearly a dozen people dressed in civilian clothes. Seated on the throne at the far end of the room was the grubbiest, grimiest, hairiest man Jaheira had ever seen. His face was hidden beneath a heavy, unkempt black beard and long strands of tangled hair hung down from his bangs to half cover his eyes. His clothes were so filthy and stained it took the half-elf a second to realize the man was clad in the same uniform as Garrol and the rest of the Calimshan soldiers.

“General Gromnir,” Garrol addressed the wild looking figure, “these people are here to see Melissan.”

“Hah!” the general barked in reply, tilting his head to the side and fixing his cock-eyed stare on Sarevok. “Gromnir knows only Bhaalspawn seek Melissan! Hah-Hah! More Bhaalspawn gathered to die! Great fun! Hah!”

“Mielikki preserve us,” Jaheira whispered, hoping only Abdel could hear her. “He’s mad.”

Abdel agreed with his lover’s whispered assessment of their host. There was definitely something unbalanced in the way Gromnir spoke and something unnerving about the gleam in his eye peering out from behind the long, greasy strands of hair that hung down over his forehead. But Abdel was determined not to overreact. He had no intention of accidentally unleashing the ravaging spirit of the Lord of Murder again.

“General Gromnir,” he said, hoping his voice sounded calm and reassuring, “I am in fact a Child of Bhaal. But I am not here to bring harm.”

“Hah! Bhaalspawn bring harm wherever they go. Blood and violence follow Bhaalspawn everywhere! Gromnir knows! Hah-Hah!”

“I just want to speak to Melissan,” Abdel continued, trying not to let his discomfort at the wild general’s behavior show. “I am seeking—”

“Sanctuary!” Gromnir interrupted. “Bhaalspawn come to Saradush for sanctuary! Gromnir knows. Hah! Melissan

promises safety, but Bhaalspawn find only death! Hah-Hah! Good fun, yes?”

Shaking his head, Abdel tried again. “No, we don’t want sanctuary. We just want—”

“No sanctuary? Then what do you seek? Hah! Gromnir’s death, maybe?”

Sarevok spoke before Abdel could come up with a response that wouldn’t agitate their already disturbed host. “I did not come to kill you, Gromnir. I could have done that long ago.”

The wild general’s head snapped back with the shock of recognition, his tangled locks flipping up from his eyes that were wide with surprise.

“Gromnir knows you! Hah! Gromnir heard Sarevok was dead! Hah-Hah!”

Jaheira made no attempt to hide the implied accusation in her voice. “Sarevok, you know this madman?”

“Sarevok knows Gromnir,” the general replied, “and Gromnir knows Sarevok. Take them to the prisons!”

From the corner of his eye Abdel saw his companions preparing for battle. Imoen’s hand was slipping down to the dagger she kept in her belt, Jaheira’s seemingly casual hold on her staff tightened to a fighting grip, and even Sarevok’s armored form seemed to coil in anticipation, but a quick shake of Abdel’s head caused them all to relax their stances.

The guards approached cautiously and disarmed them. Abdel tried to give a reassuring look in response to the questioning glares from his female companions. He had escaped many prisons in his time, and he was willing to bet that they would find some way to escape this one as well. Abdel would rather take his chances with bars and a cell than have to endure another battle within himself against the Bhaal fire that could possess his soul and transform him into the demonic, four-armed Ravager.

There were at least a dozen cells in the dungeon, all empty except for the four now occupied by Abdel and his companions. Even the guards left them once they were secure.

“I am assuming you have a plan, Abdel,” Jaheira said once the guards were gone.

“Yeah, big brother,” Imoen chimed in. “What’s going on? I’ve never known you to shy away from a fight.”

Abdel hesitated before answering. He didn’t want to explain the motives behind his actions to the only two people he cared about in the world. He didn’t want to tell them that if he his sword in anger he might not sheath it again until they were both reduced to savaged, bloody corpses. He didn’t want them to know he was afraid of the monster inside himself. \

But Imoen and Jaheira had trusted him. He couldn’t just refuse to answer them. As much as he hated to do it, Abdel was afraid he would have to lie to his sister and his lover. Abdel wasn’t a very good liar, even at the best of times.

Fortunately, he never got the chance to speak.

“Perhaps your large friend merely has learned that there are other solutions besides resorting to violence,” a female voice said as a tall, slender figure descended the stairs to the dungeon and emerged from the shadows.

The woman who spoke was wearing a mesh shirt of fine steel links, and a spiked mace hung from her belt.

She wore silver gauntlets and knee-high silver boots. Her cloth sleeves and leggings were black. A high, soft collar extended from beneath her armor right up the line of her jaw. Every inch of her skin was covered by either armor or the dark, form fitting cloth except for her face. There her skin was the white of gleaming marble, a striking contrast to her coal black eyes, her deep red lips and the long raven tresses that hung down well past her shoulders.

“Melissan,” Sarevok said by way of greeting.

The woman nodded in the armored man’s direction. “Sarevok. I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” Sarevok replied simply. “I should have heeded your warnings. I have been given a second chance.”

Melissan turned her intense gaze in Abdel’s direction. “And you can be none other than Abdel Adrian, Gorion’s ward.”

“How do you know Abdel?” Jaheira demanded, “how do you know Sarevok?”

“I knew Sarevok long ago,” Melissan answered, though she did not pull her eyes away from Abdel, “before his mad efforts to start a war between Nashkel and Baldur’s Gate.

“As for Abdel,” she continued, “his name is well known to any who have taken an interest in the Lord of Murder’s children, as is his description. You cannot easily hide yourself in the crowd, Abdel.”

“No,” Abdel replied sheepishly. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Abdel had doubted Sarevok’s promises. He was reluctant to believe his half brother could really bring him to someone who could help him escape the taint of his immortal father. But Melissan’s confident, steady gaze both unnerved and excited him. Her black eyes pierced his very soul, and he was certain she could see the evil power that dwelt within him. However, she did not recoil as most others would if they glimpsed the unholy taint of Bhaal he kept caged. Instead, Melissan seemed to acknowledge and accept his monstrous nature—as if she had known it would be there all along.

“I have been told you can help me,” Abdel said, enraptured by Melissan’s unflinching eyes. “Sarevok says you can help me to rid myself of Bhaal’s unholy taint.”

“Before we delve into my lover’s heritage,” the druid said pointedly, “shouldn’t we think of a way to escape these cells?”

Jaheira’s voice snapped Abdel out of his bewitched state, causing him to blush in embarrassment and cast an apologetic look in Jaheira’s direction.

Melissan nodded. “Of course. I will go fetch the keys from Gromnir.”

“But he’s the madman who put us in here in the first place!” Imoen objected.

“Gromnir is not as mad as he seems,” Melissan assured her. “His behavior is bizarre, but he is not insane. Just very, very careful.”

“Paranoid you mean,” Imoen snorted, still not convinced.

“His caution is based on many previous attempts on his life,” Melissan explained, “and very rational, given his present circumstances. A Calimshite general ruling over a Tethyrian town has good reason to be cautious.”

“Why is this mad General Gromnir in charge here, anyway?” Jaheira asked, making no attempt to hide the accusatory tone of her voice.

Melissan sighed, her flawless features taking on a regretful, somber expression. “I thought the general and his troops could help protect Saradush and all the children of Bhaal who had come to this town seeking sanctuary. Gromnir and his men came here at my request.”

Abdel nodded, remembering the way the Saradush soldiers had spat on the ground when he had first mentioned Melissan’s name. Suddenly their resentment made perfect sense.

“At first Gromnir and his men were welcomed here by Count Santele, the ruler of Saradush,” Melissan continued.

“But when word of an approaching army reached the count’s ears, he ordered Gromnir’s troops and all the Bhaalspawn seeking refuge within the walls of Saradush to leave the city. He thought that if he banished the children of Bhaal he could spare the town.”

“Let me guess,” Jaheira chimed in. “Gromnir refused to go, and he and his men took over the town.”

Melissan nodded. “Count Santele was forced to flee for his life. The Saradush militia was unprepared for Gromnir’s sudden coup, and before they could organize themselves against the Calimshite forces, the siege had begun.

“The captains and soldiers of the Saradush militia have had little choice but to accept the rule of Gromnir for the time being. Only by working together can the two armies put up an effective defense against the invaders laying siege to the town.

“What about reinforcements?” Imoen asked. “Why haven’t the king and queen of Tethyr brought troops in to end this siege and get rid of Gromnir in one shot?”

“Myratma, the capital of Tethyr, is hundreds of miles away,” Melissan explained, “and there are hostile forces moving throughout the region. Surely you have heard the rumors of armies devastating towns throughout the Southlands.

“This war is being fought not only in Saradush. The king and queen must look to the security of their own backyard before they can turn their attention to Saradush.”

“No wonder Gromnir’s paranoid,” Abdel noted. “I bet people on both sides of this siege would be happy to see him dead.”

“What you say is, to some degree, true,” Melissan conceded. “However, most of the citizens of this town have accepted the fact that their only hope to survive this siege is to support Gromnir’s dictatorship … for now.”

The tall woman shook her head in weary disappointment before adding, “I fear that the current situation is not the only reason for Gromnir’s behavior. I suspect the curse of being one of Bhaal’s offspring has recently taken its toil on the general.”

“That horrible, hairy thing is a Bhaalspawn?” Imoen exclaimed in disbelief.

“The Lord of Murder’s children come in many forms.” Melissan arched her eyebrows and gave Imoen the same piercing stare she had earlier fixed on Abdel. “As I am sure you well know, my young lady.

“It is only because of his immortal blood that Gromnir is here, under siege in Saradush. I would never have brought him and his loyal Calimshan troops to Tethyr if I did not feel he had something personal invested in the fate of the Bhaalspawn.”

Melissan probably would have said more, but the sound of Jaheira clearing her throat cut her words short. Abdel couldn’t help but smile at the druid’s none-too-subtle reminder.

“Of course this can wait until you are out of your cages,” the tall woman in black assured them. “I am certain General Gromnir will release you all, once I have spoken to him.”

Jaheira disliked the woman. There was something in the way she looked at Abdel, a hunger in her gaze. Jaheira didn’t like any woman looking at Abdel like that—no one but herself. She also didn’t like the way Abdel seemed to hang on her every word, the way a young child with a crush would focus too intently on a beautiful teacher.

Much to Jaheira’s surprise, Melissan was as good as her word and returned less than five minutes later with a ring of keys.

“I’m sure there is much more you would like to ask me, Abdel. We can resume our conversation as soon as I have released you.” Almost as an afterthought, Melissan added, “And your companions, of course.”

The druid bit her lip to keep from speaking harshly. She knew she was being foolish, feeling threatened by this woman. Abdel loved her. He would even give his life for her.

But Melissan was undeniably beautiful. She could reveal secrets about Abdel’s Bhaal blood that Jaheira could not. The half-elf knew Abdel had fallen for just such a woman before, the vampire Bodhi. Jaheira had forgiven her lover for his transgression. She knew well enough the enchanting magics vampires could wield over the living, and she couldn’t believe Abdel would willingly betray her under normal circumstances. Yet she couldn’t quell the whispers of doubt, the ones that said Abdel was consumed with the taint of Bhaal and would do anything to rid himself of his father’s legacy. Anything.

Melissan opened Abdel’s cell first, then Sarevok’s. She had just unlocked the door of Jaheira’s cell when the sound of three sharp blasts of a horn echoed off the walls of the dungeon.

“A breach in the wall!” Melissan exclaimed. “The invaders have broken through. Three blasts means the south wall.”

The woman spun on her heel and ran for the stairs, her long hair fanning out behind her as she raced back toward the dungeon exit. In her rush, she left the key hanging in the still unopened lock of Jaheira’s cell.

“We have to reinforce the men on the wall and seal the breach or Saradush will be overrun!” Melissan called over her shoulder as she leaped up the stairs two steps at a time.

Jaheira had to admit, reluctantly, that the tall woman moved with amazing speed and grace.

Sarevok rushed to follow her, and Abdel took a half step before turning to face Jaheira and Imoen.

“Go,” Jaheira urged, moving toward the key dangling from the lock of her cell. “I will open our cells, and Imoen and I will come join the battle in mere moments.”

Abdel must not have heard her, because he raced over to her cell.

“Go, my love,” she said again, “we will be right behind you!” To prove to Abdel he had no need to worry about her safety, Jaheira reached through the bars and put her hand on the key even as Abdel arrived at her cell.