Baldur's Gate II Shadows of Amn (12 page)

He didn’t see the man who came in next but could see enough in his peripheral vision to take a guess as to the position of the second intruder’s face. Abdel threw his right elbow back fast and hard, letting it snap more than follow through. He felt rough, sweaty skin and the texture of a tusk under a lower lip. The orc he hit made a quiet grunting noise and fell with a clatter of wood on stone.

Abdel looked down and to the side, curious about whom he’d just hit. It wasn’t a prudent course of action, or so he realized when the half-ogre’s rough-knuckled fist drove up hard into his chin, sending a burst of colored lights sparkling across his vision. He remained conscious by sheer force of will alone, but the blow elicited some kind of too-late reflex action that made Abdel drop the battle-axe.

Shaking his head clear, the sellsword avoided a second blow from the slowly standing half-ogre and kicked out fast with his right foot. His toes caught the half-ogre’s damaged knee, and he dug them into the gaping wound. The half-ogre screamed in rage and pain, then fell backward. The brute took one step back, tried to catch himself, but ended up just extending his fall back by a pace or two. He spun as he fell and ended up sprawled across the chest of the man strapped to the table.

Abdel looked down for the battle-axe and saw the minotaur, his face set and determined, grab for the weapon. Both the sellsword and the creature gasped when a long length of rusted iron chain seemed to appear out of nowhere, wrapping itself around the battle-axe. The weapon was yanked away after it just barely brushed the tips of the minotaur’s fingers. At the other end of the chain was a gaunt, green-skinned orc wearing only tight breeches and a parti-colored kerchief wrapped around its head. On the orc’s face was a crudely rendered tattoo of a mermaid. A pirate, this one, Abdel thought.

The orc pirate yanked hard on the chain and whipped the axe back. Abdel, having just regained his footing, lunged at the pirate. The motion startled the tattooed orc and sent his chain flipping wildly through the air over his head. It looked as if he’d meant to take the battle-axe himself. Instead, the weapon came out of the chain and dropped into the eel tank with a splash.

Two of the eels startled, and the man strapped to the table reacted instantly. His chest and back convulsed so sharply and with such strength that the half-ogre—who must have weighed as much as four hundred pounds—popped off the bound man’s chest and fell, grimacing, to the floor. The motion made the inmate’s head jerk again. One of the half-ogre’s fingers had fowled in the leather gag and when he fell, the gag came off the restrained man’s face.

Abdel crossed to the tank. Though he was still not sure what sort of power these stubby black eels contained, he knew that the only two weapons at his disposal were both at the bottom of the thick-glassed tank. He lifted one hand, tracking the motion of the eels and looking for the shape of the broadsword in the murky green water. His fingers almost touched the water when he heard something click off the wall in front of him. Less than a second later he was hit in the right eye by something that must have been a stone. It felt heavy and rough and was moving fast. The pain wasn’t the half of it. Both his eyes slammed shut, and tears flowed freely.

“What the—?” was all he managed to say.

Abdel looked up with one blurry eye and saw a short figure dart into cover in the doorway, then his attention was drawn to the pirate with the chain. The skinny orc was whirling the rusted chain in fast circles around his head and advancing on an alert minotaur. The creature stayed on his toes and let the orc come in too close. The pirate brought the chain down, but the minotaur was able to slide out of the way.

Abdel turned, momentarily forgetting the weapons in the tank. He held one hand over his wounded eye and was blinking tears out of the other when another stone hit him in that eye.

“Bhaal damn you to …” Abdel cursed, now blinded all together.

“Got her,” Imoen called.

Abdel forced his eyes open and saw the blurred shape of Imoen move away from the door. He looked over his shoulder and thought he saw the minotaur dodge a second attack from the chain-wielding orc pirate. The orc switched tactics and brought the chain whipping down low. The minotaur hopped over it and came up high enough that when it straightened its right leg sharply, its foot smashed hard into the sailor’s tattooed face. The pirate’s nose exploded with a red smudge that must have been blood. Abdel closed his eyes again. He heard a jagged spur of bone pop out of the orc pirate’s nose and bounce onto the stone floor. It hit just before the rest of the unconscious humanoid’s face did.

The sellsword felt the minotaur brush past him, and he opened one eye. It hurt, but he could see. He was momentarily curious about why it hadn’t hurt more when the minotaur had brushed past the leg he’d wounded so severely.

The minotaur hopped up onto the edge of the tank, and a small stone clipped his ankle hard enough to push his foot off its precarious perch. The creature fell into the water with a resounding splash that seemed to contain an odd sizzling noise.

The man on the table quivered, hissed a sharp breath out, and said quietly, “One good a was that.”

Abdel looked back in the direction of the stone’s flight and saw the short figure a bit more clearly. It was a female orc—not at all attractive, even for an orc—wearing a simple white cotton shift. She was carefully wrapping a small stone in a leather sling. She was an odd sight, but she was good with her chosen weapon.

The minotaur came up out of the water and screamed. The sound was pained and sincere, and it made Abdel turn to face him. Abdel was aware of the sound of the sling whipping through the air, and he turned in time to see the stone launched but not in time to avoid it. The rock hit him square in the groin, and all the air left Abdel’s lungs in a ragged burst. He wanted to fall to one knee, but all he could do was stand there.

The battle-axe spun over Abdel’s head and came down with a glinting clamor on the stone floor in front of him. Abdel looked down at it, then back up at the orc. Abdel smiled. The orc smiled back, then turned and ran, fast.

Abdel leaned down to get the axe and took a couple shaking steps to the door. He looked in both directions, but there was no sign of either of the orcs.

“Help me,” the minotaur gasped behind him.

Abdel turned and saw the minotaur roll out of the tank and fall to the floor with a thud. He was holding the broadsword but made no move to attack. His fur had taken on a curious gray-black hue, and he was shaking uncontrollably, gasping for air on the floor. If Abdel had wanted to kill him, this would be the time.

“Abdel?” a voice behind him asked softly. “Abdel, are you all right?”

The sellsword turned and saw Imoen standing in the doorway, holding a hand to a huge flowering bruise on one side of her face. A simple, rusty shortsword she must have taken from an orc hung from her other hand.

“Jaheira?” Abdel asked, his eyes still blurry and painful.

“She’ll be all right,” the girl said impatiently. “And I’m fine, thank you.”

“Please,” another voice said. Abdel turned back to the man strapped to the table. In a voice heavily accented and muddy from a swollen tongue, the asylum inmate said, “Now this of out me get someone can?”

Jaheira pressed her hands to her temples and held them there tightly. She’d eventually have to stop taking blows to the head, she knew, or there might be permanent damage. Abdel was next to her, though, and holding her now in his strong arms, so she was already feeling better.

She looked over at the minotaur sitting on the floor in the little room. A chill ran down her spine, and as much as she thought she trusted Mielikki’s varied creations until they proved untrustworthy, she was afraid of the huge creature.

“I get knocked out for two minutes,” she whispered to Abdel, “and you make a new friend.”

The sellsword smiled and said, “Any port in a storm.”

Imoen was helping the odd naked man on the table into a sitting position. The man seemed dizzy and more than a little demented.

“We need to get out of here,” Imoen told him.

“That we do,” Abdel said, looking between the madman and the minotaur. “We don’t have to fight, do we?”

“Sir, fight a up put won’t I,” the madman said.

Abdel looked at him blankly, and Jaheira let out a breath that might have been a tired laugh. Abdel helped her to stand, and she looked at the minotaur.

“The coordinator,” she said, “a man named Irenicus, do you know him?”

The minotaur nodded, the gesture obviously reluctant.

“You can speak,” Abdel said to the creature.

“Crazy we’re thinks he,” the madman said to Imoen, a gentle smile on his face. “Me ask you if one crazy the he’s.”

“I can speak,” the minotaur said, ignoring the madman. Imoen gasped at the sound of the creature’s gruff voice.

“What is all this about?” Abdel asked simply.

The minotaur grunted and shrugged. “I was made to inhabit this place. Your Irenicus had plans for this labyrinth beyond peopling it with the addled of your kind.”

“But he’s gone?” Jaheira asked the huge bull-man. “He’s fled this place?”

The minotaur nodded.

“His of woman vampire that with Underdark the into went he,” the madman mumbled, nodding.

“Vampire?” Imoen asked him. “Did you say vampire?”

“He went into the Underdark with that vampire woman of his,” Jaheira translated. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” Abdel asked, not expecting an answer. “Good riddance. He belongs down there.”

“His plans are for Suldanessellar,” the minotaur said, and it was Jaheira’s turn to gasp.

“Well as say I riddance good,” the madman said, laying back down on the table. “Fed been have should they way the eels the fed never he.”

“Suldanessellar?” Jaheira asked. The minotaur nodded, and she said, “That can’t be.”

“Suldanessellar?” Abdel asked.

“What’s that?” asked Imoen.

“Us about care really didn’t he like was it,” said the madman. “Me with fine just be it’ll him kill and him find you if, anyway.”

“Suldanessellar is an elven city,” Jaheira explained. “It’s no surprise you’ve never heard of it. It’s one of Faerun’s best kept secrets. It’s the home of some of the few elves who have yet to join the Retreat to Evermeet.”

The minotaur nodded, and Abdel asked, “What could that possibly have to do with us?”

“I have no idea,” the minotaur said. “You fought with me against the snortsnouts, and I owe you enough to part ways with you peacefully. I’ve told you all I have to tell.”

“We could use your help …” Jaheira said to the huge bull-man.

The minotaur nodded, but said, “Your quest is not mine.”

“At least tell us how to find them,” Jaheira insisted.

“Do we need to?” asked Imoen. She turned a questioning gaze on Abdel.

The big sellsword sighed and said, “I guess we do. We can’t let this go on. I owe him one for that ritual anyway and for the odd kidnapping here and there.”

“Easy is down way the,” offered the madman, who was busy replacing the copper band on his head. “It over hanging skull a with door a to come you until turns left three first the take and right the to corridor the follow just.”

“Are you getting this?” Abdel asked Jaheira. The druid nodded, listening intently to the madman’s directions.

“One that want don’t you,” he continued. “It over nailed bat dead the with door the through go and that by pass. Ramp a to lead that’ll.”

“You know what?” Imoen said. “This isn’t making me feel better.”

“Right the on door third the find and, goes it as far as down that take,” the madman went on. “Down way long a be it’ll.”

“I can image,” Imoen quipped, and Abdel shot her a stern look, which she ignored.

“Underdark the to get you when,” the madman concluded, “It know you’ll.”

“One question,” Imoen said, looking directly at Jaheira. “Is this Suldanessellar place worth it?”

“I spent time there,” Jaheira said. “I learned to be a druid there.”

“I’ll take that as a y—”

Imoen was cut off when the madman yelped and seemed to hop up off the table.

“Imoen!” Abdel shouted in warning, but the girl was already in the process of jumping backward.

The madman hadn’t jumped off the table—he’d been pulled off. Ropelike tentacles covered in a viscous slime hung from the ceiling and wrapped themselves around the suddenly stiff, unmoving inmate. Abdel, Jaheira, Imoen, and the minotaur all looked up at once and saw the source of the tentacles. The minotaur growled something in some guttural language.

Hanging from the ceiling, upside down over the madman’s table, was a huge wormlike beast made of fleshy, spherical sacks. Its head was shaped like an onion, and from it sprouted a blossom of tentacles.

“What in all Nine Hells is that?” Imoen said, stepping quickly backward to get out from under the thing.

“Carrion crawler,” Abdel, Jaheira, and the minotaur all answered simultaneously.

Abdel was surprised by, of all things, the height of the ceiling. Thinking back, the minotaur had jumped over him. The creature was eight feet tall, and Abdel seven, so the ceiling must have been far above them. He could see a hole in the wall near one corner of the gloomy ceiling where the giant beast had obviously come through. He’d heard of these things. They scoured the deepest caverns and dungeons cleaning up the remains of dead carcasses and the aftereffects of battles. This one had obviously mistaken the madman for a casualty.

“Me,” the madman grunted, his jaw tightening around the words, “help.”

The minotaur jumped onto the table and brought its battle-axe around in a long overhand arc. One of the tentacles dropped onto the table with a wet smack, and the minotaur deftly avoided being splashed with any of the paralyzing poison that coated it. The carrion crawler let out a hiss and withdrew into the dark opening near the ceiling, dragging the paralyzed madman in with it.

“I won’t need your help,” the minotaur said. “Go on about your quest.”

The bull-man didn’t wait to see if Abdel and the women complied. It jumped up, grabbed the edge of the opening with one hand and was through it before Abdel could even get to the table.