Baldur's Gate II Throne of Bhaal (3 page)

“I… don’t understand.” A part of Abdel felt ashamed to admit his ignorance to this glorious creature. But another part, a small, hard ember at the core of Abdel’s being, felt resentment toward the entity before him.

“No, you are not yet ready to truly understand.” The creature seemed to be momentarily speaking to itself before turning its responses back toward Abdel. “This was once the realm of Bhaal—a piece of the Abyss blighted and scarred by the hate and evil of your father’s existence. But Bhaal is dead, and he no longer holds sway here.”

Abdel pondered the being’s reply for a long time. The creature stood motionless before him, radiant and stunning. When the entity first appeared, Abdel had felt his own identity all but crushed beneath the creature’s splendor. Now, however, Abdel no longer felt overwhelmed by the entity’s mere presence.

“You brought me here, didn’t you? Why?”

“Your presence here is as much your own will as mine, Abdel Adrian—though you do not yet know it. You are here to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Abdel asked, already certain he knew what the answer would be.

‘Your destiny. The legacy of your father. You are a Child of Bhaal, Abdel Adrian. Know this, and you shall know thyself.”

The small ember of resentment briefly flared up in the sellsword’s breast. Destiny, the legacy of Bhaal; in his entire life, in all he had seen and done, Abdel had never encountered anything remotely resembling the creature now before him. Yet this spectacular being was repeating the same refrain Abdel had been hearing ever since the night his half brother Sarevok’s minions had killed Gorion, Abdel’s foster father.

With a weary sigh Abdel asked a series of all-too-familiar questions.

“What of my legacy, then? What future does my destiny hold? And what do you want from me?”

The entity, physically perfect in its statuesque motionlessness up until this point, shifted its head slightly. The illusion was shattered. For all the spectacle of this seemingly omniscient, omnipotent creature, Abdel realized, the entity was uncertain. Again, the ember of resentment flared up within the muscular chest of the giant warrior.

“I have watched you closely, Abdel Adrian,” the man informed him. “The Immortal is strong within you. There are many paths for the Children of Bhaal yet to walk, and you shall be one at the forefront of the journey.”

“Children?” Abdel asked in surprise. “You mean Imoen is involved, too?”

“You and Imoen are not alone. Your destiny is entwined with that of many, many others.”

“And just what is this destiny you speak of? What future awaits me?”

“Your destiny is yet unclear,” the being admitted. “But know that the time of prophecy is near. There are those who seek to destroy you and your kin, Abdel. Betrayal awaits at every turn, and hidden enemies plot to kill you.”

“Hidden enemies? Who? Why can’t you just tell me?”

“There are secrets I cannot divulge. My actions are bound by forces mortals cannot fathom. I can only guide you to the answers you seek, Abdel Adrian. I cannot give the answers to you.

“Seek those who share the taint of your blood and you shall find the answers I cannot give.”

Abdel woke to Jaheira’s screams.

Illasera sensed the hunt was near an end. She licked her lips in anticipation as she slung her bow from her taut, muscular shoulder. Without breaking her long, graceful stride she silently notched a single black arrow from the quiver on her slim hip. The trampled undergrowth, snapped twigs, and broken branches marking the path of her quarry’s passing were fresh—a few hours old at most. The faint footprints on the hard forest floor, all but invisible to those unfamiliar with the ways of the hunter, revealed a steadily decreasing stride length—an obvious sign of fatigue. Illasera was certain the trio she stalked would have to stop for the night to rest, but the Huntress was still going. She would catch them soon.

She paused, her finely honed predator’s senses picking up yet another indication of her targets’ nearby presence. Illasera could smell her prey. The scent of musky sweat hung heavy on the still air trapped within the densely wooded Tethir Forest. It was more than that though, Illasera was one of the Five. She could feel them. The blood of the Bhaalspawn called out to her, like calling to like, urging her on. She set off again, quickening her pace with every eager step, slipping through the trees, silent as a shadow.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. She unleashed a single arrow, pinning the small bird that had just flown by to a tree. As she marched past, Illasera glanced down at the tiny feathered body impaled on the point, still twitching feebly in a hopeless effort to escape. The creature had been trying to warn her prey.

The Huntress brushed a strand of long hair back from her face and laughed softly to herself as she pressed on. One of the three she stalked could speak with the animals of the forest, commune with them in ways most people could not fathom. One of her prey was a child of the grove, a servant of nature, a druid.

They were foolish if they believed such feathered sentinels could protect them. Each of the Five was blessed with unholy power. The legacy of their tainted, immortal father manifested itself in them in different ways. Illasera’s power linked her to the earth. Like the druid, Illasera could touch the creatures of the forest. She could use her power to influence the natural order. However, hers was not a symbiotic relationship. When Illasera used her power, nature was bent to serve her tainted will.

Illasera hesitated, considering the consequences of her actions. She could send out a call to the darker spirits that dwelt within the wood—a call that would surely be heard by the nearby druid. But if the Bhaalspawn were as close as Illasera suspected, as close as they felt, the advance warning of her presence would not be enough to allow them to escape.

Standing still, she tilted her head back and raised her arms to the black sky. Her eyes blazed with a dark fire. Overhead the leaves rustled and branches shook as Illasera gathered her power in a chill wind. The nearby animals fled in silent terror at the touch of the icy air or cowered in the cover of the forest undergrowth, paralyzed with fear.

The ground trembled with the mounting magic of the dark archer. A great flock of fowl burst from the shelter of the nearby branches, blotting out the moon as they arced toward the sky. The sound of a thousand beating wings couldn’t hide the harsh screams of terror from their

feathered throats. The Huntress echoed their cries with a scream of her own, unleashing a wave of malevolent magic that rumbled across the forest’s floor as Illasera sent forth an unholy summons none could deny.

The denizens of the forest—fowl, beasts, even the trees themselves—were touched by the unholy call as the dark magic enveloped them. Leaves withered and died instantly, branches became twisted and gnarled, roots rotted and tangled, even the trunks of the great oaks warped and bent into an abomination of their natural form. The smaller creatures of the forest fell dead, their existence obliterated by Illasera’s necromancy. Those that were stronger began to change—metamorphosing into mutated, diseased versions of their true form. Corrupted by the evil taint of one of the Five, the helpless creatures’ minds were dominated and consumed by Illasera’s own evil consciousness.

They gathered around Illasera’s form. A pack of what had once been wolves circled their fell mistress. With a single silent command Illasera sent her minions off as advance scouts to lead the Huntress to her prey.

Nearby, a woman screamed.

Jaheira’s anguished cry woke Abdel instantly, ripping him from the strange dream. A heartbeat later he was on his feet with his heavy sword drawn as his eyes scoured the surrounding foliage for signs of danger.

He saw nothing, unable to pierce the darkness of the night. “Jaheira,” he whispered, “What is it, my love?”

A single, arcane word from fell from Jaheira’s lips, and the grove was bathed in a soft, warm light. The magical illumination allowed Abdel to see clearly. Jaheira was already on her feet, the familiar quarterstaff she used as a weapon clenched tightly in her fists as she stood beside Abdel. Imoen was still on the ground, slowly struggling to raise her weary form to a standing position, fumbling with the tiny dagger she kept tucked inside her belt.

Abdel barely noticed his two female companions. Instead, his attention was drawn to the unfamiliar surroundings, and he understood the horrified reaction of his druid companion. What had been a lush, vibrant forest when he had fallen asleep had become a moribund grove of decay. Towering trees were now rotting dead wood, their trunks twisted and malformed. All around them dead leaves tumbled slowly to the ground, falling from dead branches to cover the clearing like a sickly yellow blanket.

The pungent smell of decomposing vegetation assailed Abdel’s nostrils. Beneath the sickly sweet odor he half imagined he could smell something else—something foul and unclean.

“What is this?” Imoen asked in a harsh, uneasy whisper.

“Fell magic,” Jaheira replied, “an abomination of the natural order.”

“Get into a defensive position,” Abdel ordered, taking charge of the situation. He was certain an attack was imminent, and he had no desire to let something spring at his unprotected back from the surrounding trees. The three companions moved into a tight circle, standing back to back near the center of the small clearing.

The brush of Jaheira’s hair against Abdel’s bare arm sent an electric shiver of longing along the big man’s spine, but he shook off the effect of his lover’s touch. He needed to focus on the impenetrable wall of gray and twisted trees ahead of him.

He did not have long to wait.

The attack came from all sides simultaneously, as Abdel knew it would and hoped it wouldn’t. A pack of five creatures familiar in form yet somehow alien and altered launched themselves from the cover of the forest, hurling their bodies with reckless abandon at the three defenders.

One great wolf leaped at Abdel’s throat, and a part of the sellsword’s mind instinctively recoiled at what he saw. The beast’s eyes were milky white, the pupils lost in the murky pus that wept from the half-blind orbs leaving a sticky, glistening trail of slime oozing down the creature’s snout. Great flecks of gray foam flew from the wolfs open jaws. Its teeth were barely visible beneath the thick froth welling up from its throat. The wolf’s heavy coat was matted and tangled. The flesh showing through the many patches of mange was discolored and covered with festering lesions. The fur of the creature pulsated, as if millions of maggots wriggled just beneath the surface. Worst of all was the smell, the sickly sweet stench of gangrenous flesh that threatened to overwhelm Abdel’s gag reflex and drop him retching to his knees.

Only a small part of Abdel’s mind was refined enough to feel any revulsion at the abhorrent lupine form. The majority of his brain operated on a more basic, primal level. Abdel’s sword moved with the speed of thought, slicing through the chest of the diseased wolf. The blade ripped through fur and ribcage, covering the sellsword in a spray of warm blood.

Abdel let the momentum of his blow spin him around to face the creatures converging on Jaheira and Imoen. By the time the corpse of the first wolf had hit the ground, Abdel’s sword was already disemboweling a second that had leaped toward Imoen.

From the corner of his eye, Abdel noticed Jaheira had met the charge of a third wolf by cracking her staff down on its brow, caving in its skull with a single stroke, but the momentum of the brain-dead beast was unabated. The disease-ridden body bowled Jaheira over, burying her beneath a tumbling mass of filthy, vermin-ridden fur and flesh.

Unable to immediately aid Jaheira, Abdel kicked Imoen in the back with a heavy boot, sending her stumbling back off balance and pushing her out of the way of the snapping jaws of a fourth attacker. The wolf, deprived of its initial target, spun to face the new threat, its powerful hind legs propelling it up at Abdel’s unprotected throat. Its teeth sank deep into the warrior’s windpipe, and the creature wrenched its head hard to the side, ripping his throat open.

The weight of the wolf attack knocked the big man over, sending him toppling backward to the hard earth. As he fell, Abdel brought the point of his weapon up, wedging it into the fold of skin between two of the beast’s ribs. The creature was too close for Abdel to get any leverage into his thrusting attack, but when the combatants struck the ground the force of their momentum and the wolfs own mass impaled the beast on Abdel’s blade.

The injury to Abdel would have been instantly fatal to any mortal on Abeir-Toril—but Abdel had ceased being a mortal not so long ago. Even as he worked the point of his sword deeper into his foe, Abdel could feel the flesh of his savaged throat regenerating. Momentarily trapped beneath the weight of the wolf, the warrior twisted his blade, tearing cartilage and snapping bone as he opened a fist-size hole in the chest of his opponent. The diseased wolf died instantly, and in the scant second it took Abdel to roll the corpse off to one side, Abdel’s own wound had completely healed.

Drenched in gore, Abdel jumped up to meet the next attacker, only to find the fifth and final wolf feebly twitching on the ground. The hilt of Imoen’s dagger protruded from between its haunches. The beast had been killed by a single well-placed strike at the base of its brain.

Beside him Jaheira had already managed to crawl out from under the foul corpse of the wolf she had killed. The druid was on her knees retching uncontrollably, physically sickened by her close contact with the unnatural monstrosity that had attacked her. Apart from her obvious discomfort and embarrassment, Abdel could tell she was unharmed.

Then he noticed Imoen, curled up near the corpse of the first wolf and clutching at her arm, feebly trying to staunch the flow of blood. Abdel crossed the clearing in a single bounding stride, and dropped to his knees beside his half sister. He glanced at Jaheira as he did so.

“I’m all right, Abdel,” Imoen said, trying to give him a brave smile, but she could only manage to grit her teeth in pain. Abdel gently took her wrist and turned her arm so he could examine her injury. The underside of her arm was torn open from the wrist to the elbow. Sinew and muscle spilled out from the wound.