I'm taking liberties with the Bhaalspawn origin story, but I didn't care for the Throne of Bhaal story of who the protagonist's mother was. So this is my tale of how Norh ended up at Candlekeep with Gorion.
Thanks,
Rose of Jericho
Ryan kicked again at the horse's flanks, trying to urge the withered old nag to go faster. He had meant to be in Nashkel by sundown, for who in their right mind would want to travel the Sword Coast at night? Bandits were everywhere, his mother had told him as she gripped his cloak, weeping copiously at the thought of losing her only son. "You'll take care, won't you? It's bad enough you've your heart set on serving Helm, but worse to wind up in Myrkul's care first. You'll write me the moment you'll get there, won't you, son? Promise you will!"
Rather guiltily, Ryan hunched over the reins, glad no one could see him now. He had fled from his mother's clutch so quickly he had barely left footprints in the dust. I'm sixteen now, a man! he thought, drawing himself up to his full height. In the last year he had grown like a maple. Unfortunately, his limbs did resemble that tree's spindly branches, but that was nothing his training as a squire wouldn't fix. Besides, it's not like she's losing a son; she's gaining a knight of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart! Or she will. If I ever get there.
The stars told him it was still well before midnight, but he hadn't even made it to Beregost yet. When he had studied the map, it hadn't looked that far from Baldur's Gate to Athkatla. A day, two at the most, he had thought. Maps, he concluded, were great liars. A small fuzzy ball of fear was starting to bounce about his stomach, for the shadows were darker every moment, and everywhere he felt the piercing stares of unseen eyes watching him. As much for his own comfort as to warn away any potential attackers, Ryan put a hand on the knife at his belt and scowled fiercely. He again kicked the horse, and this time -- thankfully -- she broke into an easy trot.
Perhaps it worked, for no one assaulted either them as they continued at a fairly good clip. Slowly, Ryan relaxed and even wonder if he should find a place to camp for the night. He was getting kind of tired. And wouldn't it make a better impression if he arrived looking fit and rested? Gods, he was getting tired. The nag's swaying trot was sort of relaxing, and Ryan's eyelids began to droop. Half-heartedly, he straighted again, but it wasn't long before he again was slouched over the horse's neck. The horse ...
... was brilliant white steed, charging at full speed toward a fierce red dragon, a gleaming lance held firm under his arm. The dragon roared, throwing back it's head to let loose it's fiery breath, but it was no match for Sir Ryan Trawl, the hero of the Sword Coast. His steed charged and the lance pierced the dragon's breast, the shock of the impact jolting his arm ...
The sudden jolt as the horse stopped dead in her tracks threw Ryan forward, nearly pitching him off the saddle. Disoriented, he looked around wildly for the dragon before realizing what had happened. Just a dream. Irritated, he shook his head to wake up fully, then clucked his tongue to urge the horse forward. "C'mon, girl," he said, kicking her again.
The horse didn't budge. He kicked again, harder, and flapped the reins against her neck. This time the horse did move, though not at all as he had wanted. She bucked, kicking up with her rear legs to send him flying over her head.
Ryan tucked his gangly limbs under him and hit the ground in a ball, rolling to his feet beside a copse of bushes. "You stupid git!" he shouted. The horse nickered as if in reply, then tossed its head as he came forward. But when Ryan moved to climb again into the saddle, she danced away from him. Ryan ground his teeth in embarassed frustration. "What in the Nine Hells is the matter with you? Stand still!"
From the bushes, a weak, mewling cry caught his ear, making him turn swiftly and draw his knife. The horse stopped moving as well, its ears flicking as if listening for the noise as well. She didn't seem agitated, so whatever that noise was couldn't have been a predator. Just as Ryan began to think he had imagined the noise, he heard it again, a sob so faint he almost missed it.
When he reached for the horse's reins, she let him and docily followed him into the copse. Knife still out, Ryan pushed his way into the bushes.
In a small clearing was a blonde woman, sprawled on her side on the ground. Blood was pooled around her legs, caking her torn skirt and turning the dirt into black mud. Ryan gasped, his eyes wide at the horrible sight, staring rooted to the spot until the small cry sounded again and the horse nudge his with her nose.
With one-hand he tied the reins to the bush, then went to the woman, knife still out. Whoever had done this to her might still be here. Gently, he turned her over and found eyes open and staring blankly at nothing ahead of her, her skin cool to the touch. She was dead.
Ryan closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging under a small surge of guilty regret. Maybe, he thought, if I hadn't yelled at the stupid horse I would have found her in time. Or if I had ridden faster. Something. Knights are supposed to save people, and I can't even do that!
A slight movement caught his eye. Beside the woman, beneath her limp hand, was a bundle of cloth. Ryan moved her hand and opened the cloth to find a very small, very filthy infant. No stranger to babies, since he was the eldest of six children and had helped his mother raise his younger sisters, Ryan scooped the baby into his arms and looked at it.
It was a girl, an elf or a half-elf like her mother, he realized. She was shivering from the cold, so Ryan opened his shirt and tucked her inside, hoping his body heat could warm her. As he shifted her, a wad of cloth fell from the wrappings. When he was satisfied that the babe was secure, he bent over to pick it up.
He opened it to find a fine silver chain and a heart-shaped locked. Across the cloth were words scrawled by a hand so unsteady he almost couldn't read it. Written in blood, he realized with a shudder. Peering at it in the moonlight, Ryan managed to make out its message.
"Her name is Norh.
"Take her to Gorion of Candlekeep.
"He will know what to do."
Candlekeep. Ryan looked up. He had passed the road leading to Candlekeep just a few leagues ago. If he went back he'd definately be late to report to training in Athkatla. But there was no choice in the matter at all.
He looked back at the dead woman and wondered if he should try to do something for her. No, he thought. I can make it to Candlekeep quick and get the baby taken care of. And then I can lead them back to her.
Ryan took the horse's reins and led her out of the copse. This time she let him climb into the saddle, and she broke into a swift lope toward Candlekeep without any urging at all.
"Sorry, kid," the guard said, yawning. "No one's allowed in without a book. Them's the rules."
Ryan passed a hand over his eyes and prayed to Helm for patience. "Look," he said slowly, "I already told you, I don't want to go in. I want her to go in." He held up the baby, still wrapped in the bloody rags.
"Yeah," the guard drawled, barely glancing at her. "And like I aleady said, no one gets in without a book."
"Then just send this Gorion out! Look, the note says Gorion of Candlekeep! He's here, right?"
"Yeah," the guard repeated. "But I ain't gonna get him now. It's the middle of the night, and the readers don't appreciate being woken up like that. Now, if you'd just give me a book, I'd take the kid to the inn. But without a book, it's just you and me standing out here all night."
"I don't have a book!" Ryan shouted in frustration. The baby squalled weakly. Ryan hugged her to his chest as he tried to think of what to do. She needed to be somewhere warm and safe or else she would die. She's not going to die! Not while I'm here to help her! Why did the stupid guard have to be so narrow-minded? Ryan swore that when he became a knight he'd never follow rules so blindly.
"Hey, wait!" Ryan exclaimed. From his pocked he pulled a piece paper, his letter of introduction from Ryan's uncle, an armorsmith in Baldur's Gate, to the squiremaster of the Order of the Radient Heart in Athkatla. "I don't have a book, but I have this. Isn't this enough to at least let her in? She's just a few hours old, so she just needs a few pages. Right?" The guard looked doubtful. "Awww, come on! It makes sense! It meets your rules, right?"
The guard's forehead wrinkled as he looked from the papers to the infant and back. Finally he sighed. "Alright. I guess that'd do then." He awkwardly took Norh from Ryan's arms. The baby girl whined a little and squirmed, as if she were loathe to leave Ryan's side. "I'll take her in. You," he blocked Ryan's forward movement with a hand on his chest, "stay here."
Ryan nodded and bit his lip, still anxious about the baby's fate. "Can I get my papers back when you're done?"
"Sorry," the guard said over his shoulder as he unlocked the gate. "We file everything we get. It belongs to the monks now. Thanks for your donation." He closed and locked the gate so quickly that Ryan didn't even get a chance to slip through. He stared at the closed gate and tried to decide if he wanted to laugh in relief that little Norh was -- he hoped -- going to be safe, or curse because not only was he going to be late to arrive at the Order, but now he didn't even have any documentation.
Instead he sat down against the wall to wait for the guard's return. He'd make sure the baby was all right before he left. Exhausted by all the trials of the night, Ryan fell asleep before the guard returned.
"Ryan Trawl," a kindly voice said, awakening Ryan from his deep sleep. Pale morning sunlight made Ryan's sleepy eyes squint, and he shot to his feet without thinking, barely avoiding colldiding with the man in robes before him.
"What," Ryan said intelligently. He looked around and saw his horse grazing quietly on a nearby bush, full saddlebags still on its back. "Where," he followed up, then looked at the man, a middle-aged gentleman with a blue eyes and a long brown beard shot with gray. "Who-"
The man smiled, though it did not quite touch his eyes. "I'm the man you came here to find. I'm Gorion."
"Thank Helm!" Ryan rubbed his eyes, both in relief and to wake up. "How is she? Did he find you?"
"No." Gorion shook his head, anger clouding his face. "That damned fool left her at the bar in the inn. She wasn't found until Wintrhop woke up this morning. Heads will roll, I promise you that."
Ryan started. "But she's all right, isn't she?"
"You're a good boy to care so much," Gorion said. He smiled again, this time a genuine one. "Yes, she'll be fine. Winthrop's caring for her until I return. My boy, I need to tell me where to find her mother. I assume that's where you found her?"
Ryan nodded and quickly told Gorion of his discovery. When he finished, Gorion closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked like a man twice his age. "Poor Delia," he sighed. "She was so close."
"I wish ... I wish I could have found her sooner, sir," Ryan said. "Maybe if I had-"
"I don't know if it would have helped," Gorion interrupted. He shook his head. "I'm off to find her now. Again, I can't thank you enough for what you've done."
"But sir ... I could take you right to her," Ryan began, but again Gorion shook his head.
"You've done more than enough. And I know you're late for your own destiny, and maybe I can help you there." From his sleeve he pulled out a thick roll of parchment and handed it to Ryan.
"Is this my letter?" Ryan turned it over to open it but found it was sealed with red wax, imprinted with the formal seal of Candlekeep. Written in the edge in florid script were the words, "Sir Wesselan of Amn."
"The letter from your uncle is property of the keep, I'm afraid," Gorion said. "But maybe this will serve you just as well. I know Wesselan. Good man." Gorion coughed into his fist. "Give him my regards, won't you?" He started to shoo Ryan toward the horse.
"But, sir," Ryan protested half-heartedly. He wanted to see the baby again before he left. But the sun was rising into the sky, and there were miles to go before he reached his destination.
"Now, my boy, you're late as it is. Go, and return to visit her when you can. I'll be sure to tell Norh all about the brave knight who brought her to her home." Gorion held the horse's reins as Ryan reluctantly climbed into the saddle, then slapped the horse's flank to send them off before Ryan could do more than cry out a goodbye. As he trotted away, Ryan looked back and saw Gorion standing like a statue, one hand raised in farewell, the other at his eyes as if wiping away a tear.
At dusk three days later, Ryan was standing in the foyer of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, standing at attention while Sir Wesselan of Amn read his letter of introduction from Gorion. A drop of nervous sweat was rolling down Ryan's back. The rest of the new squires had arrived on time yesterday. The day commander had told Ryan when he arrived to go home, but Ryan insisted on giving his letter to Wesselan personally.
"So Gorion of Candlekeep reccommends you," Wesselan growled, glaring at Ryan.
The boy swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"That could make up for your tardiness." Wesselan lowered the letter and cast a critical eye over Ryan. "And the babe is well then?"
Ryan blinked at the unexpected question, then found his voice. "Yes, sir. So I was told."
With a snap of parchment, Wesselan put away the papers and smiled at the boy. "Excellent work, my lad. That's the kind of thing we like to see from our squires. Saving the life of a newly born child while en route to training. Excellent!"
Ryan nearly melted with relief. "Uh ... thank you, sir."
Wesselan clapped Ryan on the shoulder and led him into the Order. "It's been years since I last had a squire personally, but then I've been waiting for someone exceptional to come along. We take up drilling bright and early in the morn. Quarters are down the hall to your left." He motioned to a room down a long hallway. "Anything you need before you retire?"
Head still spinning from fatigue and shock at his good fortune, Ryan managed to nod. "Some paper and ink, sir. I'd like to write to Candlekeep and let Gorion know I arrived. And," he blushed a bit guiltily, "I need to write to my mother."
