Baldur's Gate II Shadows of Amn (19 page)

Yoshimo kept passing a hand to the hilt of his sword, and Abdel could see that he was ready to disappear into the dark forest any second. Why would these elves—or anyone—trust a Shadow Thief assassin?

They’d been brought directly from the gate by the elf patrol leader to an enormous tree. As tired as they all were, they were anxious to warn the queen of the dangerous forces still rallying against her. They were led through passages in the tree that might have been natural veins in the wood but for their size. Passing through a beaded curtain, they emerged into a surprisingly huge, tall-ceilinged chamber lit by patches of cold, obviously magical light.

The furnishings were spartan but well-crafted of wood and woven vines. The curved wall of the semicircular room was cut with delicate carvings of leaves sprouting from twisting vines. Against this backdrop stood a slim male elf in simple traveling leathers. At his belt was a sword that made the sellsword in Abdel practically drool. He’d only heard of them, but he was sure the weapon was a moonblade.

The elf smiled and motioned them to seats in the center of the room. Jaheira bowed deeply and said something in Elvish. She didn’t look directly at the elf, who returned her bow with a nod of his head.

“We should use Common,” the elf said, his accent very thick, “so as to not offend our visitors.”

“As you wish, sire,” Jaheira said. The five of them sat on deep-cushioned chairs arranged to face a simple wooden stool. The elf, mindful of the long blade at his waist, perched on the stool and raised an eyebrow.

“The queen is in danger,” Jaheira said simply.

The elf smiled and said, “I am Elhan. And you are… ?”

Jaheira, flustered, said, “Jaheira … a druid in the service of Mielikki.”

“And the Harpers, of course,” Elhan added for her.

Jaheira blushed and said, “I am not here on their behalf.” She didn’t question how this elf knew of her affiliation with the Harpers. Elf princes, apparently, just knew things like that.

“I am Yoshimo,” the Kozakuran said, filling the uncomfortable gap as he so often did. “I am at your service… sire.”

“I’m Imoen,” the girl said weakly. The trip through the Underdark and the woods seemed to have taken an unusually heavy toll on her. She seemed weak and tired.

“My name is Abdel,” the sellsword said.

Elhan turned to him and nodded. “You, I’ve heard of. What brings the son of Bhaal to Wealdath?”

Abdel turned to Elhan and said, “Suldanessellar is in danger. A powerful necromancer, a human named Jon Irenicus is hoping to perform some ritual—”

“Indeed,” Elhan interrupted. “Irenicus is known to us. He has … my sister—Ellesime—has had a … relationship with this human for quite some time. They are linked in a way that I must be honest and say I don’t fully understand. Ellesime herself senses only apathy from Irenicus, when she can feel him through this link. She is refusing to believe that he means her harm or even that he is responsible for sealing off Suldanessellar.”

“What do you mean ‘sealing off’?” asked Jaheira.

“I mean just what I say,” replied Elhan with a shrug. “We are no longer able to get into the Swanmay’s Glade. Irenicus has somehow barred us from our home.”

“What is there to do about this?” Yoshimo asked. “I imagine we must help you return to your city, so you can save your queen’s life.”

“We will,” Jaheira said, scowling at the Kozakuran.

“Ellesime cannot be killed,” Elhan said simply. “You’ll forgive me for not explaining how this is so. I don’t fear her death, but if Irenicus is immortal as well, he can harry my sister for a long time—centuries or more—and cause the gods only know what damage to the city, all of Wealdath, in the process.”

“We’re not entirely sure why we’re here, sir,” Abdel admitted. “All we know is that your fate and ours—” he nodded at Imoen— “are tied up with each other in some way connected with Irenicus.”

Elhan lifted an eyebrow, curious, and Abdel said, “I am descended from the God of Murder, and I am not the only one. I have a sister, a half-sister who shares that blood. Irenicus means to use that blood to raise some sort of power—if not Bhaal himself then some essence, some avatar of Bhaal. It is this godlike force that Irenicus seems to desire for some unknown purpose.”

Elhan smiled and nodded. “I think I can shed some light on all this for you, Abdel Adrian. I think our fates are bound together after all. I’m so glad you made it here. So very glad.”

Bodhi awoke early, as she often did, and stayed in her casket knowing the sun hadn’t completely set. As had been the case over that last dozen days or more, she awoke thinking of Abdel. The feel of his hands on her body, his tongue in her mouth, their most intimate embrace, lingered in her in the most delicious way. She would never use the word love, or even desire, but maybe, in whatever was left of the human part of her, she felt both those things and more.

There were so many things Abdel didn’t know, but there were easily as many things about him that she had yet to discover. She hoped she would have a chance.

She stretched, and her elbow brushed past several loose pieces of cold metal. Irenicus had told her to keep these broken bits of some antique close to her. She could sense the magic in them and knew it had something to do with the ritual. Irenicus had told her that there was a good chance that Abdel would come to her looking for it. She was happy to keep it in case of just such an eventuality.

She whispered his name just to feel it on her tongue. The hiss of it didn’t echo in the confined space. The air, reeking of the soil of her all-but-forgotten home, was too dead to allow for something as graceful as an echo.

“Love,” she said aloud into the dead air of her coffin. The sound of it made her smile.

She touched herself and closed her eyes, knowing that that night she would kill all of her assassins in Irenicus’s name. She no longer cared that her fledgling guild would never serve her—one way or another, the son of Bhaal would instead fill that role.

“Irenicus was responsible—Irenicus and Bodhi together—for the worst disaster ever to befall the city of Suldanessellar,” Elhan explained. :

Abdel settled into his chair, happy to finally get some facts that he might use to make sense of all this mess, happy to feel calmer than he had in a long time. The tree chamber was described as a “camp” and “temporary” by the elves, but it looked permanent enough to Abdel. These elves carried their traditions with them everywhere.

“We didn’t know what they were trying to do. None of us would ever have imagined they’d be that … I don’t know. We didn’t suspect,” Elhan continued. “Many of the older, weaker citizens died in the initial waves of power that swept through the city. The Tree of Life … they attacked the Tree of Life itself.”

Jaheira gasped and Elhan nodded at her.

“Ellesime—my sister, our queen,” he continued, “nearly died as well. To endanger her, to endanger all of us, to endanger the Tree. It was more than we—any of us—could comprehend. All that, nearly the whole city gone, elves who’d gathered the wisdom of millennia blown away … for some petty gain … some personal gain.”

“And they got away with this?” Jaheira asked, her eyes wide.

Elhan smiled and shrugged. “We didn’t think they did. They were punished according to the wishes of Ellesime. They got the opposite of what they desired. Great magic—High Magic—was used to make them human. They were stripped of their elven nature and sent away. Not only were they given mortality, but … forgive me,” he said, nodding to the three humans in turn, “but they were to have only a handful of years to ponder their crimes before time would execute them for us.”

“What was it he was looking for?” Abdel asked.

“Immortality,” Jaheira whispered.

Elhan took a long sip from a tallglass of sweet elven wine and said, “Immortality. The simplest, silliest goal of the tiny minded. To live forever in pure arrogance over the master, Time.”

“But he didn’t succeed,” Abdel said.

“He came close,” Elhan told them. “He studied spells and rituals that had been shunned by my people for more than one of our very long generations.”

“But Bodhi …” Jaheira said. “She’s managed it, hasn’t she?”

Elhan shrugged again and said, “After a fashion. Bodhi is undead. She’s not immortal. These are very different things that can easily seem similar on the surface. Once human, Bodhi struggled to find a faster, easier answer. That was always her nature. While Irenicus studied, she acted. Bodhi became a vampire but stayed with the man she called her brother in hopes that Irenicus’s continued study would benefit her someday as well.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Abdel said. “Irenicus wants to become an elf again?”

“More than that,” Elhan said. “He was an elf, and we do live for a long time—long enough that I understand some of your people believe we are immortal—but time catches up even with us, eventually. Irenicus was one of our best. Before he descended into mad necromancy, he was perhaps the most powerful mage on all of Faerun—one of them, at least.

“More than that, he was my sister’s consort—as close to the throne as anyone could get. She loved him, and maybe, a long time ago, he loved her too.”

“So what turned him?” Jaheira asked. “What could possibly make him betray her?”

“Bodhi,” Elhan said flatly. “Though I’m loathe to attach all the responsibility to her. Still, where my sister and I believe Irenicus once had some pure intentions, I doubt Bodhi ever did. What it is about her that makes her … I don’t know, and maybe I don’t want to. I will be satisfied believing she’s simply an aberration.”

Abdel suddenly felt the need to stand, so he did. This startled Jaheira, but she didn’t say anything. Elhan watched in silence as Abdel crossed to a window and looked out at the forest canopy.

Sensing the stillness in the room, Abdel said, “Go on.”

“Bodhi always was Irenicus’s most trusted advisor,” Elhan said. “She studied with him for some time, helped him, took care of him. They truly were like brother and sister. Ellesime, to her credit, did everything to embrace Bodhi, extending friendship, even a sort of sisterhood, but Bodhi always kept her at a distance.

“Sometimes I believe it’s my sister’s own wishful thinking that blames Bodhi more than Irenicus … that it was Bodhi who forced his hand and drew him into the ritual. They both wanted the same thing, to live forever. Bodhi convinced Irenicus, or he convinced her, or they convinced each other to undertake a ritual so vile…”

“The Tree of Life?” Jaheira asked, her voice dripping with incredulity. “The arrogance …”

“I have been listening with great interest,” Yoshimo said, “and I must ask—what is this Tree of Life?”

“It is the spiritual heart of Suldanessellar,” Jaheira said. “It’s a force perhaps older than the gods themselves. It has the respect of all gods. Some say it is the source of all life.”

“The druids taught you well, Jaheira,” Elhan said with a smile. “Irenicus sought to drain life force directly from the Tree of Life. I couldn’t imagine anything more abhorrent, more forbidden to us.”

Abdel sighed and turned back into the room. “So what do we do about this?” he asked. “They’re going to try it again, aren’t they?”

Elhan nodded. “I’m afraid that you and your sister have something to do with it this time, Abdel Adrian.”

“Well,” Abdel said, “I’ve been the center of an arcane ritual or two before, sir. I don’t intend to have anything to do with this one.”

“Good,” the elf prince said sincerely. “Then there’s something you’ll need to do for us all.”

“Tell me,” Abdel said.

“Go back to Athkatla,” Elhan directed, his eyes burning into Abdel’s. “Find Bodhi, kill her, and bring back the pieces of the Rynn Lanthorn.”

Abdel’s heart skipped a beat and a yellow haze began to creep into the edges of his vision. He held his eyes closed tightly and calmed himself.

“The Rynn Lanthorn?” Yoshimo asked. “Little pieces of bronze that might fit together to make a whole?”

Elhan nodded.

“I’ve seen it in the vampire’s possession,” the Kozakuran said. “Irenicus gave it to her for safekeeping.”

“What does this thing do?” Jaheira asked.

“It will put your souls back in order,” Elhan said, “not to put too fine a point on it. It will suppress the avatar within you, Abdel, and it will save Imoen’s life.”

Abdel looked over at Imoen and noticed for the first time that the girl had fallen asleep or passed out. Her breathing was soft and regular, but she seemed pale, her eyes sunken, her lips gray.

“So I’m off to Athkatla,” Abdel said quietly, not looking away from Imoen.

“We all are,” Jaheira said.

“No,” Abdel said quickly. “This I have to do by myself.”

Abdel looked at Jaheira, and she nodded, a tear rolling slowly down one cheek.

Difficult as it was for him to believe, Abdel was actually starting to get used to teleporting.

He never really thought of himself as the teleporting sort. It was something mages, phaerimm, demons, and gods did. He was the kind of man who got paid to guard warehouses or walk next to trade caravans with a big sword in his hand. He traveled the old fashioned way. He walked. Sometimes he’d ride a horse, or in a cart or wagon of some kind, and he’d been on a ship a time or two. Instantaneously shifting hundreds of miles in less than a second in a flash of magical light made him dizzy, and he really felt as if he wasn’t in control, which is something that bothered him more than anything else.

But then he hadn’t been in control of anything in his life for a long time now, so maybe that was it. Being teleported by one of Elhan’s mages was the least of his problems.

He shook off the teleportation afterdaze and looked around to make sure he was in the right place. The ceiling was low, barely brushing the top of his head. The air smelled like stale mead and garbage. It was dark, but he could see the outline of sacks of flour and barrels of ale and wine. He could hear footsteps crossing the floor above his head and the sound of a chair being pulled across it. A mumbled voice clearly said, “All done, Boo,” and Abdel knew he was in the right place.

He stood on the exact spot where he had made love with Bodhi. She’d hypnotized him. He told himself that again, though he didn’t believe it. The smell and the sounds of the place made the memory clear enough that he couldn’t pretend as well anymore. He stepped toward the stairs, and his eye was caught by a square patch of shadow on the floor only a stride or two to his left. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness quickly, and when he stepped a bit closer to the shadow, he saw that it was a trapdoor.