24. A Zhentarim Twist

The blissful dark and silence of the tunnel broke with the heavy sound of hurrying footsteps and two globes of magic light. Ala winced. It was so nice to be alone with the bodies of her victims, nothing but battle cries and triumph of the victor in her head. Now she was caught in the web of her current concerns and troubles again, and the feeling was everything but pleasant.
The thoughts flashed in her head, each one a small explosion. Kobolds. Sealing the tunnel. Imoen and Xzar. Zhentarim members, following her. She blinked, trying to concentrate. Killing was easier.
The girl became aware of muttering around her, and raised her head. Everybody was there, but something was very, very wrong. Xzar and Montaron were quietly conversing in the corner, throwing guarded, furtive looks at her. Well, there's always something wrong with these two.
Xan was standing alone. He was looking straight into her face, his own features a grimace of disgust. There was fear, as well. Ala passed a hand over her face. No fangs, no horns, what is it?
Losing her patience, the girl stepped up to Imoen, who was standing closest. Her friend's mouth was slightly open, and her eyes very wide, but at least she didn't recoil. The rogue grasped her by the shoulders. "What? What is it now?! Why are you all staring at me like that? Did I grow a third eye?"
"Sis," Imoen whispered hoarsely, "had your eyes been glowing before?"
"Not that I remember it, no," Ala jerked her head impatiently. "So what's wrong?" Then the comprehension dawned, and she slowly let go. "My eyes are glowing."
"It is fainter than it was when I entered, but yes," Imoen nodded.
"I told you, you shouldn't have gone alone," Jaheira said from the girl's back. Ala whirled around, but the woman merely took the half-elf's hand and felt her pulse. "Your sire was known for his manipulative nature, and during the battle you were twice as vulnerable to his influence. He probably tries to possess and twist you even now."
"But I wasn't possessed by anyone, Jae," Ala forced a smile. "I kill when I have to, not because I want to. I am an rogue, not a berserker."
"That was an ogre mage, sis," Imoen shook her head. "I don't think you could really, really kill it on your own. Sure, you told me you would be able to battle a dragon when you grow up, but I don't think you're there yet, huh?"
"But I did kill him!" Ala protested. "I was not possessed!"
But, on the other hand, I can force my mind into the other person's body. And it was my sire who granted me this. So, it is possible. He made me enjoy the murder, and controlled me all the way! I am doomed to be his puppet now, am I? Ala shut her eyes. It is a death sentence.
"There are no sentences." Xan suddenly said, guessing her thoughts. "There is only knowledge you can take to heart or wave away."
Ala stared at him in amazement. Jaheira, however, gave him a knowing, almost approving, nod. "I presume you can help her set a mind shield against this?"
"It is possible, yes," the mage said. He regarded Ala thoughtfully. "I would say, probable. Your doom is inevitable, I am afraid," (three women groaned simultaneously), "but my professional honor will be wounded, if I could not help you defend your mind."
"How?"
"Bhaal cannot possess you, the god is dead. If he could, you would be helpless before his will. What his essence can do is influence you in the best way it can: your aggression, your performance during the kill," Xan explained patiently. "The best way to withstand his attack would be remain clear about your motivation. It is akin to the state we enter before performing the teleport spells."
"You empty your head and think about nothing but the mental image of the place you want to get to?" Imoen blurted out in a single breath. She blushed. "Well, I know that because Gorion wanted to teach me... he showed me..." The girl bit her lip and turned away.
"That is what I wanted to say, Imoen," the elf said, not unkindly. He turned to Ala again. "You'll have to do almost the same thing before your every battle. Any emotions, any bloodlust, any thoughts of vengeance would play against you. There are also some breathing exercises you could practice to remain calm-"
"I am perfectly calm, thank you!" Ala retorted sharply. Jaheira fussing over her was bad enough, but Xan doing the same was too much.
The elf raised an eyebrow. "I... will try," she said reluctantly. Nobody will manipulate me without my consent. Ever.
"Shall we go, t-then?" Khalid was guarding the corridor, his sword drawn. "I t-think the kobolds are approaching, and we don't need another battle right now."
"Right," Ala drew her own dagger and moved towards the stairs. She passed Montaron and Xzar, who were still whispering. "No Evil Plots, here," she said acidly. "We're going out."
"And I say it's bloody time," Montaron retorted. "I'm bored, and when I'm bored, I kill." There was a distinct threat in his voice, but the rogue decided to ignore it. No need to argue with these two, she thought. I'll get rid of them soon, in any case.

The stairs led the party to a warm and comfortable-looking wine cellar. After a deserted dungeon, the smell of dry apples and soft earth under their feet was a blessing. A blessing for every member of the party, except for Xzar. The necromancer had a lot to muse about. Their recent conversation with Montaron, for one.
"So," the halfling said, making sure that nobody could overhear them, "ye got new orders."
"Why do you think so, Monty?" Xzar said, his voice feeble. "I got no instruc-"
"Shut yer gap, wizard!" the thief hissed. "I've heard ye talking in yer sleep. Moaning. Calling for that pinky dollie, Imoen. What's the deal? I'll kill ye if I don't find out, and I'll kill the girl, too, just so ye know."
"Master wants us to dispose of the Bhaalspawn," the necromancer said flatly. "Torture her for the true name, but I think he won't mind if we simply cut her throat and leave." His voice raised to a scream. "I don't want to hurt Imoen, d'ya hear me?"
"Quiet, you loony! Ye waste my time and test my patience! Nobody wants your lass, do whatever ye like with her." He leered. "In fact, I have a master plan, so listen here..."
"But what if it won't work?" Xzar asked uncertainly, when his companion had finished. "The Rabbits would come for us! They will turn us into shadows, make us vampires and worse! Or they can make us zombies, hide lots of magical rings in our insides and make us write journals on our backs! And make us forget everything till the day we die! Or from the day we die!"
The halfling chuckled. "I'll never forget yon mad visage, mind ye. And it would work. The Bhaal kids are popular, after all."
Xzar returned to the present. Yes, that might work. He looked at Imoen nervously. I shall try, he decided. This way my Master will not be upset, and she will be unharmed. Perhaps she will still love me... who am I kidding? I can only hope she will not kill me afterwards.
Somebody's distant muttering interrupted his thoughts. It grew louder, and a very surly-looking halfling emerged from the trapdoor in the middle of the room.
"What in the nine hells are you doing in my burrow home! I don't know why you're here, but any assumptions you might have about halfling hospitality do not apply to me. When an intruder breaks into my home, I kill 'em."
"Such a remarkable coincidence," Ala purred. "I suppose two mages downstairs can prove my point on the matter. You don't happen to know them, do you?"
"You've found me out." The halfling bared his teeth. "Yes, I'm the one who has been letting the kobolds into our quaint little town. And a cleric made another tunnel and let them into Nashkel mines! Funny how much chaos two simple tunnels can do! It's too bad that you won't be alive to tell anyone about it." He charged.
The mages backed off, allowing Khalid, Montaron and Jaheira space to fight. The fighters drew their swords out. But then something small and red flashed by, and the halfling howled in pain, tearing at his eyes.
"What was it?" Jaheira turned around sharply.
Imoen grinned sheepishly. "It was my spell, Jae. Now we don't have to kill him, only present him to the authorities!"
"Are you sure there are any?" Ala approached the window, eagerly scanning the surroundings. "It looks like a village of a sort."
"Gullykin," Jaheira said, nodding. "The halfling village to the north-east of Nashkel. We have come a long way underground."
"Yes. Let's meet the mayor, if there's one, shall we? I bet he wants to get rid of kobolds, so he might have some means to seal the tunnels."
The mayor of Gullykin, Gandolar Luckyfoot, looked very glad indeed. "So, you've found the culprit, eh?" he welcomed them. "I've seen many an odd thing in my time, but this be the saddest of them all. A traitor in our midst! And a fine lad Jenkal used to be," he sighed. "But never mind the old man's ramblings. Please, accept this meager gift from our townsfolk." He offered a small bag of gold to Jaheira.
"Thank you, good sir," Ala said, "but we also seek to close this dungeon's entries. People of Nashkel suffer from these monsters. Your people suffer, too. Mayhap you can help us in our quest?"
Gandolar looked chagrined. "Alas, we had a Stoneshape scroll, which would allow you to seal the dungeon from the outside, but I have given it to another adventurer. Meilum, his name was, and he claimed to be the best swordsman on the Sword Coast! Naturally, we couldn't refuse."
The girl frowned. "But where has he gone? Can you tell us?"
"Aye. He had gone north, to the Firewine Bridge. I wish you luck, if you can find him."
It was darkening when the party left the village. For a while, they walked among the trees, under the light of the waning moon. Then the forest abruptly ended, and the adventurers entered a wide plain, similar to the one that surrounded Nashkel mines. An old, abandoned, but still visible path was leading to the northeast, where, by the mayor's words, the Firewine Bridge lay. But they were not allowed to proceed.
"So we finally meet. Poor little Ala, I assume you're completely clueless as why you must die. I'm sure you've already had problems with an assortment of incompetent bounty hunters. Well, those days are done, today... you will die."
The voice belonged to a tall, burly warrior, who was standing a short distance from them, twirling a spiky flail in his hands. Two short figures surrounded him, one of them in mage robes, another wielding a very large axe. A man with a Holy Symbol of Cyric on his chest loomed behind them. Ala backed off. Who, who wants me to die that badly?
"Hah, I'm sure you'll be about as much trouble as the rest of the rabble we've killed," Montaron sneered, demonstrating his short sword. "But we don't wanna fight ye. In fact, my companion and I would join ye." He elbowed Xzar meaningfully. The Zhents were edging away from the group as he spoke, and now they were out of the sword's reach. "We're Zhentarim, and we can help ye kill this one," he pointed at Ala. "Or, better, take her alive. We know somethin' yer boss would appreciate."
Now, that's a nice turn of events.. Six versus five. Like the mayor of Gullykin said, "a traitor in our midst". Two traitors, in my case.
The man laughed. "Zhentarim? I suppose we could use your help in the battle, do we, boys? But we'll have a nice long talk afterwards, you can be sure of it. Let's start!" He leered at Ala. "Not running away, are you? You'll be a feisty kill, little one. When you die, know that it was Molkar who killed you."
"You shall hear the word 'traitor' many times, Montaron, but let me be the first one to throw it on you!" Jaheira roared, coming out of her stunned trance. The druid leaped towards Molkar and Montaron. Khalid followed his wife, too furious to speak.
Imoen reached for her bow with trembling hands, but she didn't have time to draw it. A beam of green light shot out of Xzar's hand towards her throat, and she fell to the ground, choking, unable to breathe. Within seconds, the girl was still.
"Don't touch her!" Xzar screamed. "She's mine! I'll revive her after the battle!"
Six versus four, then, Ala thought indifferently, ducking as the necromancer aimed a similar spell on her. We shall die. The girl knew that she should panic, but her senses had gone numb. If there were any urges, coming from the Bhaal's side, she couldn't hear them: her mind was filled with nothing but disbelief. Someone from her party, betraying her? That was impossible to believe, impossible to imagine, and her mind refused to draw the picture of the universe where it had happened. She was mechanically shooting arrows at the cleric, not caring about the accuracy. Khalid and Jaheira were protecting the girl with their bodies, not letting the warriors over a fictitious frontline, but they were no match for an experienced group of five. We shall die.

Xan was standing on the edge of battlefield. To his great relief, his abilities had returned at long last, but he hadn't had the opportunity to memorize any spells yet. And it looks like I shall never have to, he thought bitterly.
For a moment, he wished that Ala, his charge, was one of those evil, self-absorbed maniacs that were so common against the human population on Faerun. Then she would easily abandon her party, and Khalid and Jaheira would give them enough time to run away, to return to the village. He felt sorry for his temporary companions, but seeing Stai's plans come to fruition... just seeing her again was worth to him much more than their lives.
But the girl wouldn't leave her friends, the elf saw that. Charming her so she would... now, that wasn't a nice thought. Besides, the idea was futile.
We are all doomed.
The familiar wave of hopelessness washed over him. The emotion was so strong he was sure it could kill if channeled in a spell.
But it could be channeled in a spell, he realized. And I happen to know this one...
During his earlier travels, Xan had cast it so often, and became so intimately familiar with every curve of the lips, every angle of the fingers, every step of the mind necessary to complete it, that he did not need a spellbook to remember the correct phrasing. It became a part of his being, that lay in a secluded corner of his mind, ready to be called forth.
The mage closed his eyes, letting the emotion flow through his body. At last, a warm wave touched his brain, and a vivid purple glow obscured his vision. Purple, the color of existential despair. The associations worked at their full potential, digging deep into the ancestral memory.
The Scattering. The drow. Their dark faces, a horrible mockery of ours. Blood on their spears. Winged shapes, circling over the battlefield...
Netheril. The flying ships, falling down, shattering. A deadly rain of molten metal. The Weave, screaming in a million voices, as her incarnation was slain. The mythals, writhing in pain, their delicate silver branches quickly becoming a mass of mindless, rotten wood.
The Trial.
Mulahey.
Despair.
The tide had finally reached the tips of his fingers, and a clot of magical energy flew to the direction of battlefield, together with the distant and unfamiliar sound of his own voice. The elf fingered a small knife on his belt. The work of the mind is over, it seems. Now, for the work of the body to begin.

Jaheira fell to her knees, gasping. She reached for a healing potion, but a flap of the cleric's flail knocked the bottle out of her atonic fingers. The next stroke threw her on the ground.
She heard Khalid screaming "Jah... Jaheira. no. No!" The world became dim, degraded. She felt Montaron raising his blade over her, but it didn't matter. Not anymore.
Then something shifted. A golden luminescence descended on the battlefield, surrounding the enemies. Jaheira expected them to go blind, or deaf, but what happened surpassed all her expectations. The cleric dropped to the ground, weeping. She could vaguely make out the words "all doomed". Molkar, dwarven warrior and Montaron wailed nearby, Xzar she could not see. The priest was sobbing at her feet, his Holy Symbol thrown aside.
But the gnomish mage didn't seem to be affected by the spell. He approached them with a malevolent smile, one of his hands on the belt. "I don't think there's any point to live anymore. Do you?" the gnome asked, his eyes glittering. "Goodbye, my little friends." Then he spread his arms wide and the great ball of flame engulfed him, turning his body into a charred mess.
The last thing Jaheira saw, even as Khalid was pulling her away from the center of the explosion, was the face of the Cyricist. His eyes were no longer bloodshot, but wide, shining with deep hatred, and a spark of orange light was visible inside the pupil. His hand stretched out, glowing red, and grasped Jaheira's face. Then a single needle of pain pierced her body, and Jaheira saw and heard no more.
When the smoke cleared, Ala found herself next to Imoen. The girl was wheezing, but she was alive; the necromancer's spell had apparently been short-lived. The rogue hauled her up, and they stumbled towards the gnome's remains. Xan was already there.
All the members of the group that attacked them were now dead, either from their wounds or from the fire. Xzar was lying on the earth, weeping and banging his fists on his head. Montaron was less lucky: he was still breathing, but the flame had nearly baked him inside his metal armor.
Khalid... Khalid managed to roll aside with Jaheira in his arms, she saw that. Now he was standing next to Jaheira... next to Jaheira's... corpse?? The girl rushed to the druid's body. She was wounded, and she never had the time to drink the healing potion. Oh no...
"We can bring her to life, heal her," Imoen suggested shakily. "There was a temple of Yondalla back in Gullykin. It's going to be expensive, though."
"Yes," Ala found her voice, "we'll try. I hope we have enough money for that." Her face hardened. Jae, we'll bring you back whatever it takes. I lost Gorion, I can't bear to lose you, too.
Jaheira's eyes stared emptily into the sky.