Baldur's Gate II Shadows of Amn (2 page)

She remembered being jumped while walking with Abdel in Baldur’s Gate and had assumed that she’d been brought to the same place as he, though she hadn’t seen him since regaining consciousness in the cage. When she awoke, she met two others. Each of them had their own cage. They could see each other, and the other two could speak, but they were kept apart.

One of the others was an odd, stocky, well-built man with long red hair and a patchy orange beard. He had apparently taken some kind of small rat or large mouse as a companion. Jaheira looked at the babbling lunatic with a mix of fear and pity. She wasn’t afraid that he might harm her or try to take advantage of her—they were in separate cages after all. No, Jaheira was afraid that she might end up like him. Would she be locked away, restrained, told nothing for so long that her mind, like this poor fool’s, might unravel?

“It’s all right, Boo,” the red-haired man muttered to his rodent companion. He’d noticed Jaheira looking at him, and before she realized she was making him uncomfortable and turned away, she saw him tilt his head down and to the side, revealing a jagged, still-bruised scar running along the right side of his head.

A heavy blow must have addled him then, Jaheira hoped. Maybe he wasn’t left here too long.

“A fine group we have here, yes?” the second prisoner asked her, obviously noting her discomfort with the red-haired man. “The silent rodent, the madman, me, and you.”

She looked at him blankly, unable to figure out what this one wanted her to say, even if she could speak. He was a strange looking man, with features nearly like an elf’s but not really. She had seen only one other person like him before: the woman Tamoko, lover of Sarevok. Abdel had told her Tamoko came from Kozakura, on the other side of the world, east of the endless Hordelands. This one was a man, of course, but different from Tamoko in other ways too. His face was rounder, softer, as was his body. He seemed well fed but not fat, strong but not muscular. He wore a simple black blouse and loose-fitting black trousers, a uniform not unlike the ones worn by her captors. Jaheira mistrusted this man for that reason and for other, less concrete ones.

“If my name was Boo,” the Kozakuran tried to joke, “I would be in a better situation, I think.”

She tried to squeeze out a smile but realized it looked more like a sneer. Maybe she did mean to sneer after all.

“I want to get out of here, Boo,” the red-haired man said to his little friend. The rodent didn’t respond, but the Kozakuran man did.

“Indeed, Boo,” he said too loudly, “get us out of—”

The lock drew back sharply, and the door vibrated, sending loud, almost painful waves of sound through the cramped chamber. The door swung open, and Jaheira blinked in the brighter light from the guttering torch in the narrow corridor. The same fat, soft-spoken half-orc in the leather harness who brought them their water from time to time shuffled in with something over his shoulder. The big jailer was obviously struggling with his heavy burden, and Jaheira quickly realized it was a man, then realized it was Abdel.

She wanted to scream his name but could only moan tightly under her iron chin strap. The jailer stopped and shifted his weight onto one foot, and Jaheira’s eyes went wide at the sudden burst of motion. Abdel’s hair was what she noticed first. Long, black, and matted with what looked like sweat and blood, it whipped up over his back. His set, determined face followed just as fast. The jailer started to fall backward at the sudden shift in Abdel’s considerable weight, and Abdel pulled his shoulders back, bringing his chest away from the jailer’s hairy shoulder while kicking his feet forward. The effect was to send the fat jailer tumbling onto his ample rump, while Abdel came solidly to his feet in a puff of dirt, rat droppings, and straw.

Abdel’s hands were tied tightly in front of him, but Jaheira realized that wouldn’t slow him down nearly enough to save the jailer’s life. The burns and cuts blossoming over Abdel’s body didn’t register with Jaheira at first. He stepped back with his right leg and kneeled next to the jailer. Jaheira realized Abdel had been tortured and gasped as much at that thought as the sight of Abdel’s hands coming up, his elbow falling past the jailer’s head, and those two huge, godlike arms tightening around the still-stunned jailer’s neck.

Why did Jaheira want Abdel to stop? She didn’t know, she just didn’t want him to kill, not out of anger, not when he didn’t have to. Did he have to?

Abdel seemed to see Jaheira for the first time just before he started to twist the jailer’s head. Their eyes locked, and Jaheira could see fire—literally a faint yellow glow—flare suddenly in Abdel’s eyes. She realized he’d noticed the iron strap on her head. She had no idea what he’d been through, so she couldn’t know what he was imagining she’d been through. She made her eyes wide and tried to shout at him with her mind. She wanted him to stop.

He couldn’t hear her thoughts, but her face, smashed into the mask as it was, was plain enough, and Abdel stopped short of killing the jailer. He squeezed the man’s neck, didn’t twist it, and the jailer woke up just in time to try to take one breath, then pass out again.

“Jaheira,” Abdel whispered as he strained at the ropes that held his wrists together.

She closed her eyes and jerked her head back once in hopes that he would understand. He stopped trying to get his hands free and moved to her. The burns on his chest and thighs were purple welts, and he was trickling blood from more than two dozen tiny cuts. He came to her cage and reached in. Without thinking she slid closer to him, pressing her body against the bars. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she had to close her eyes when he leaned closer to her. She felt his nakedness brush against her shoulder, and she heard the loud clatter of iron on iron as he fumbled with the lock on her mask, oddly ignoring the fact that she was still in a cage.

He cursed and pulled, wrenching her neck painfully. There was a whining sound and a crack, and the strap around her chin fell away. He stood quickly and moved to the locked door of the cage. Muscles bunched along his massive arms, and the cage door broke free with one hard yank. Bits of metal clattered on the stone floor, followed by the louder clang of the barred door Abdel easily tossed aside.

“Kyoutendouchi!” the Kozakuran exclaimed. “Now free the rest of us!”

Abdel ignored him, taking Jaheira’s chin gently in his bound hands. “Did he … ?” Abdel asked, the yellow light returning to his intense eyes for half a heartbeat.

Jaheira opened her mouth to speak, and her jaw cracked painfully, but she managed to say, “No, no, he just left me here with these two. I don’t know them.”

Abdel looked at the other prisoners, then back at Jaheira.

“Get the keys,” Jaheira said to Abdel. “Get the keys from the jailer.”

Abdel smiled, said, “Dungeon master,” and retrieved the keys.

He went to unlock the Kozakuran’s cage but stopped when he passed near Jaheira. Abdel moved to embrace her, but she pushed him away.

She closed her eyes and said, “In the name of Our Lady of the Forest, by the will of the Supreme Ranger, by the touch of the daughter to Silvanus.”

Abdel felt a cool nettling pass over him, and when he touched his own chest, the pain from the cuts had gone away—the cuts themselves had healed.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” he whispered, shocked.

“I haven’t been calling on Mielikki enough,” Jaheira admitted, blushing, “or listening carefully enough to her call.”

“That’s all very interesting, young miss,” the Kozakuran said, “but I and my very dear fellow prisoner are still hoping to complete what I can only guess is a much welcomed escape.”

Abdel looked at Jaheira, who smiled, then he unlocked the Kozakuran man’s cage.

“Many and varied thanks, respected sir,” the man said. “I am Yoshimo of the Faraway East, and you are my newest friend.”

Abdel only grunted at the man, who stood on surprisingly steady legs, rising to a height nearly two feet short of the top of Abdel’s head.

“Jaheira,” the half-elf druid said, standing and stretching sore, hunger-weakened muscles, “and this is Abdel.”

She didn’t bother to watch for any reaction to either her name or Abdel’s. She was too busy breathing, working her sore jaw, and stretching her cramping legs.

“It’s all right, isn’t it, Boo?” the red-haired man muttered over and over as Abdel unlocked his cage. The big sellsword was obviously taken aback by the prisoner’s mad demeanor.

“Do any of you know the way out of here?” Abdel asked.

Jaheira had to shrug, and Yoshimo looked at the red-haired man as if sure he would have the answer.

The man shrugged, pointed to the only door, and said, “Through there?”

Jaheira allowed herself a laugh and made to follow Abdel and the red-haired man out.

They came out into an all-out melee.

The four escaped prisoners followed the sounds of battle, since it seemed the only thing to follow, through twists and turns in narrow tunnels that confounded even Jaheira’s sense of direction. The red-haired man still seemed oblivious to anything but the rodent he carried cupped in his hands. He would ask the animal if it was all right to turn this corner, safe to go up that set of steps, wise to pass through some doorway. No one but him ever heard the thing answer, but he always followed the rest of the escaping prisoners.

They came into a wide, low-ceilinged chamber dominated by huge roselike growths of orange crystal. Black-clad men were locked in combat with other black-clad men, and neither side seemed to be winning. No one even noticed them at first and even when a few did glance their way, they were all too busy fighting to the death to do or say anything.

“I don’t know if this is better than the cages or not,” the Kozakuran said dryly.

“There!” Jaheira shouted, pointing to a door on the other side of the chamber.

“Is it all right, Boo?” the red-haired man asked the rodent.

“It’s the only way out,” Yoshimo said, putting a hand on the madman’s shoulder.

“Boo says it’s all right,” the man said, addressing another human for the first time.

A man in black robes fell screaming to the ground only a dozen paces in front of them. The two assassins who’d killed him looked up sharply at the little group and came on fast, swords drawn.

Jaheira called on Mielikki, closing her eyes just after seeing the still naked Abdel rush forward to meet the charging assassins. She took a tiny sprig of tree root she’d pulled from the wall in the chamber of cages and secreted under her torn, sweat-soaked blouse. The root grew in her hand, and she smiled at the feel of it in her palm. In no more than two heartbeats it was a sword of polished wood with a gleaming blade that showed its razor sharpness.

“Your side!” the red-haired man shouted just in time, and Jaheira dodged the warhammer coming at her from her left.

The wielder was a black-robed assassin with all-too-human eyes overcome with panic and bloodlust. She backed up two steps, which was enough time to recover, and brought her wooden sword up in time to parry another hard strike from the warhammer. She sliced her sword in low and scraped across the assassin’s left knee, then his right, and the man went down like a sack of wet rice.

“You will learn the price of your failure, you …” a harsh male voice shrieked above the melee, the rest of his obviously enraged statement lost in the echoes of steel on steel.

Jaheira heard someone cast a spell just as another assassin came at her with a quarterstaff raised high. She threw her sword at him and kept her eyes glued to it. The assassin made to dodge the thrown blade but was surprised when the unlikely weapon stopped in midair and reversed its direction, striking for his throat as if it were being wielded by some invisible swordsman.

“We know our price!” a shrill male voice shouted over the general din. “Give us our payment, necromancer!”

The assassin parried each thrust from the goddess-given sword but was soon being pressed back into a stone-block wall. Jaheira had to concentrate on the blade, using her own will at this distance as she would have to if she were holding the blade.

She wondered what Yoshimo and the red-haired man were doing, what had happened to Abdel, and whether or not the other door really was a way out when the single word “Sleep!” shouted from somewhere to her right made her do just that.

Abdel knew that running into the green cloud would be a bad idea, but he’d already started in that direction when it suddenly appeared in front of him, engulfing the two black-clad men he was trying to defend against. The cloud had obviously been conjured by some mage mixed in among the assassins. The sound of murmuring voices had been part of the general cacophony the whole time. Abdel and the two assassins were overcome with the powerful stench of death and decay. They wanted to kill each other, but all they could do was retch. If Abdel had had anything in his stomach, he would have emptied it onto the floor beneath the cloud. Instead, he just stood there and coughed until a man crashed into his back, and he was pushed, pulled, nearly carried out of the cloud.

“I will destroy you all!” a strange man, a man Abdel couldn’t see, screamed. “Your blood will serve me as your pitiful efforts could not!”

Abdel looked back through watering eyes in time to see Jaheira fall to the floor limply, Yoshimo standing impotently by her side, stepping back as two black-robed men grabbed for her. The man with red hair was suddenly standing next to Abdel and had what a more lucid Abdel might have described as a wholly inappropriate grin plastered to his face.

“Abdel!” a woman’s voice screamed at him, thin and weak.

He was more confused that Jaheira seemed surprised to see him than that she could shout at all, then realized it wasn’t Jaheira’s voice.

“Imoen?” he gasped around another body-wracking dry heave. He looked up and saw a face he’d seen most recently in a dream but not in real life for many months. The impossibility of her presence washed over Abdel like a cold rain, and the sellsword was quite simply flummoxed.

“We have to go,” the red-haired man shouted with an almost cheerful tone. “Boo insists!”