Adrian: Baldur's Gate

Adrian did not sleep at all that night, hiding in the upper branches of trees, watching as, twice, the armored figure and his companion passed beneath him. After about three hours, they gave up and left to the north. He didn't come down, however, until the sun rose.

Staggering wearily back to the road, he wondered what he should do now. Gorion had said they were going to meet some friends of his at the Friendly Arm Inn. What were their names? Khalid...and Jaheira. Yes, that was it. He supposed he'd better get going.

But he would not be caught off guard. Never again. Unshipping his crossbow from his back, bolt already loaded, he set off.

He hadn't gotten more than a few steps, however, when he heard someone behind him. He whirled, bringing the crossbow up, framing the other's frightened face in his sights. A familiar face....

"Adrian! Don't shoot! It's me!"

Imoen.

He lowered the crossbow and stared at her. "Dear Gods, Imoen, I nearly shot you through your silly little head. What are you doing out here?!"

"I snuck away from Candlekeep. I wanted to go with you and Gorion--" she brook off, looking around. "Where is Gorion, anyway?" She peered closely at him, seeing the blood-encrusted gash on his cheek. "And what happened to you?"

"We were ambushed. Some big armored thug, with lots of power behind them. Gorion took almost all of them down...but their commander killed him."

"Killed?" she whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Yes. I saw him die." He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He had never gotten along with his foster father, not really. But Gorion had always tried to help Adrian in any way he could, and that was something he appreciated. He very much doubted he'd ever meet anyone else like that again. Candlekeep had shown him the way of the world; hatred and fear. He had learned the lessons well. Too well.

Whereas Imoen hadn't learned them at all, save to relive the rich of their excess. He focused on her, and his cold gray eyes made her shiver. "Imoen, why did you decide to follow us?"

"Because...before you left, I saw a letter of his....it might still be on....on his body."

Frowning thoughtfully, Adrian said "Then perhaps we'd better go retrieve it."

"You want to go back to where he's fallen?" she asked, disturbed.

Adrian gritted his teeth. "Want is not the right word. But it may prove advantageous. And I suppose we shouldn't let the carrion have him, either."

Imoen stood there, hand over her mouth, with wide eyes, staring at the remains. They weren't pretty.

Adrian had no such difficulties; the anguish and rage he felt belonged to last night. Not that it didn't affect him, but he knew what needed to be done. He found a handful of golden coins, a dagger, a couple spell scrolls that were no use to either of them but perhaps could be sold, and the letter.

He read it, frowning. Gorion had taught him well, and he appreciated every advantage he could get, including literacy. It was easy enough to read. Some mysterious fellow going by the letter "E" had written a veiled, unclear message about rival factions moving, and about those "in thy care", which was of course himself. Gorion, of course, would have known in full detail what it meant, but Adrian lacked the necessary frame of reference and clarity.

"It raises more questions than answers. But I know who might have them."

"Who?" asked Imoen.

"The friends he was going to meet. Khalid and Jaheira."

"If you say so," she said.

Adrian set about the task of burying Gorion. They had no shovel, but physical labor had never been any great difficulty for him. The identity of the body, however, did make him flinch a little.

"Shouldn't we take him back to Candlekeep for resurrection?" Imoen asked.

"That would require an intact body," Adrian answered, not looking up to his work. "Besides, if we return to the citadel with his corpse, they're likely to think I killed him."

Imoen opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She knew he spoke truth.

Adrian wished he could wash his hands, but there was nothing else for it. And he had the feeling it would not be the last time he'd have blood on his hands.

"Let's go."