Quickly Patricia got the group on the move again, feeling that was the fastest way to defuse any lingering tension. When they reached Lord de’Arnise’s bedroom, they were surprised to find it undisturbed. There were absolutely no signs of any struggle within, nor a flail head to be found, even in the fireplace cache rooted out by Jan.

Nalia commented on the oddity. “I don’t know where Glaicas is. I had expected him to be here, if he wasn’t with my father. He and Father were best friends. They grew up together, and Glaicas has served as his bodyguard since before I was born. Even if all the other Guards had given up without a fight, Glaicas would never leave him.”

Anomen and Minsc nodded their approval at this.

Patricia considered the girl’s statement. “We haven’t seen very many bodies here within the Keep, but it’s possible that the trolls have been, er… storing them in the larder, so to speak.” She glanced apologetically at Nalia. “I’ve noticed that the creatures seem to have gone out of their way to avoid damaging anything, which isn’t the behavior I’d expect from trolls.”

“There is one other likely spot,” Nalia offered. “The small family sitting room in the very center of the keep. That’s where we dine if there isn’t much company. It’s down the hall through this passage,” she said, opening a concealed door as she spoke.

They filed into another small antechamber, this one stuffed full of more odds and ends. Patricia remembered that Merton had said they were in the midst of spring cleaning when the attack came, so perhaps the place was normally a bit less cluttered.

Nalia did something complicated to the frame of the dining-room door, pressing at several points to release the lock. The mage pressed her ear to the wood, signaling for silence. “I can’t hear anything moving,” she finally whispered. “Let me go in first, please, Patricia. If Glaicas is in there, he’ll know me.”

“Okay, but I’m coming too,” replied the monk. “The rest of you wait here in the doorway until we see what’s what.”

The two women cautiously poked their heads through the doorway. They were relieved when no arrows thudded into the wall near them, and edged on through. It was a long and slightly odd-shaped room, lit only by one small oil lamp at the far end. Peering through the gloom, they were startled to see the shape of a man emerging from a doorway at the far end. He also seemed taken aback, but before Nalia could call out to him, he began charging toward them.

“For the glory of my new master, whose sorcery has shown me the way, I shall destroy you!”

“G-glaicus? Is that you?” Nalia gulped. “Oh, no, Patricia, he must be charmed! He's one of my father's most loyal guards, he would never do this otherwise!”

Patricia was already moving in front of the mage. “The ring, Nalia, use the ring we found at the slave ship! I’ll cover you!”

What ring? Nalia thought confusedly. Of course! The one with the charm spell built in! The two magics should cancel each other out! She raised her right hand hurriedly, desperately searching her memory for the command word. “Keep Minsc out of here!” she called softly and urgently to Jan and Anomen. If the Rashemite went berserk again now, they’d have no hope of saving Glaicas.

Glaicas had closed with Patricia now. The monk knew that there was only one chance to halt him. If she hurt him badly now, Nalia’s spell would fail, but she also wasn’t about to let him slice her to ribbons. Stunning him would be her only option. She parried the man’s first two attacks, sizing him up, searching desperately for an opening. The axeman’s blow at the back of the neck wouldn’t work this time; she had no one else to occupy his attention while she maneuvered behind him. Aha! There it was--- she knocked his right arm out of the way with her left as he came in for the kill, driving her right hand hard into his abdomen just above the solar plexus. She could feel his diaphragm spasm even through the chain he wore.

Nalia finally recalled the phrase that activated the ring. “Merodi fasol adito!” she cried, pointing at Glaicas, who was twitching uncontrollably from the hiccups induced by the force of Patricia’s carefully placed blow. For a few moments, nothing appeared to change; the bodyguard still rocked back and forth, racked by the spasms.

Then a peculiar expression crossed his face, and as the hiccups subsided, he spoke again. “Wh...what's going on? Lady Nalia? What's happening here?”

It was Patricia who answered him. “It appears that the invaders charmed you into cooperating with their plans.”

“Yes...yes, I remember now. It was...it was horrible! Oh, thank you so much for freeing me from that enchantment, Lady Nalia! You...you must find the leader of the trolls. TorGal, I believe his name is. You must find him and kill him! If he falls, the rest of his minions will flee.”

“What of Father, Glaicas? Have you seen him today?” asked Nalia eagerly.

“No, my lady, not since we were caught by the trolls while searching for the heads to the flail. I have one of them here that your father entrusted to me when the invasion began.”

“Good,” said Patricia. “The other two have already been attached. You look like you’ve had about enough excitement for a few days. Did you forget about eating while you were under the spell?”

The bodyguard looked startled. His face was sunken under his mop of graying brown hair, and his cheeks showed that it had been two or three days since he’d shaved. “I guess I did, at that. Now that you mention it, I am hungry. Would you happen to have any rations on you?”

“Take Lady Nalia down to the forge room and stay with her until she’s finished the repairs to the flail. She’s got plenty of water left in her canteen, and here’s some jerky. Jan and Minsc can go with you to keep Nalia company on the way back.” Patricia gave the gnome a look that told him plainly that the boring mission was his reward for casting that cantrip on her earlier. “When it’s done,” she continued, “Nalia will open the passage for you and you can go join Captain Arat in the stockade. There are plenty of wounded to be tended.”

Glaicas looked at this woman keenly. She was only of average height, but she projected an air of solid and sensible authority that made her loom larger than life. You scarcely noticed what she looked like, because the personality, the mind, behind the outward figure overshadowed it to such a degree. It was self-possessed without being cocky or overbearing. He felt that she understood his mixed emotions at leaving the Keep, even though she’d asked no questions, and was proffering him this option to let him retain his self-respect. A strange lady, this, but he was certain that she would look after Lady Nalia. If the Keep could be reclaimed, she wouldn’t stop until the job had been completed.

“I’ll be glad to help out there,” was all he replied. “I’ve enough strength left for that, anyway, though I’ll be sore for some days where you hit me, milady. A good blow, that. Tyr guide your steps to bring some justice to that rabble.”

He pondered a good bit as he escorted Nalia to the forge, and before he left he had a quiet consultation with his lord’s daughter. She looked at him thoughtfully, and promised to keep what he’d said in mind, should the need arise. Satisified that he’d done all he could, he slipped down the passage and out into the noonday sun.