Unwilling to Acquiesce – Part 23

The companions rest for a moment in a stairwell between two floors of the keep. Nalia reads from her spell book, study the arcane dweomers that empower her spells. Between the bound pages are several loose leafs of parchment; additional spell scrolls which she has not yet transcribed to her spellbook. Yoshimo keeps watch at the head of the stairs, Adamant at the bottom. Jaheira and Anomen are between these two, with Nalia, praying to their respective divinities. Although the party hears the occasional footsteps of trolls, or the slither of some other monster that they take to be the yuan-ti serpent-men, no one disturbs them and no alarm is raised from their aborted conflict with the umber hulks.

“It appears our presence has not yet been discovered,” observes Yoshimo in a whisper.

“Trolls must make better assault troops than guards,” says Adamant. Yoshimo nods and shrugs. The group sits a while longer in silence.

“The longer we wait, the worse things will be for father,” Nalia says, closing her spellbook. She draws several of the loose scrolls from between the pages and, rolling them up, puts them into her belt, next to a silvery wand. “I pray that he holds out long enough.”

“As do I, Lady Nalia,” Anomen says, looking up from his prayers. “I have petitioned Helm to fortify your father’s resolve, that he might endure until we can free him.”

Nalia looks at him with a momentary look of pleasant surprise. “You called me Lady Nalia,” she says. “It’s been a long time since anyone but a servant called me that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Anomen adds quickly, obviously nervous that this is precisely what he has done.

“You didn’t offend me.”

“The real question is how do we get past those monsters?” Yoshi interjects.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” says Adamant. “Remember what Daleson said about having to kill the dogs to feed them?”

“Yes,” says Yoshimo, seeing Adamant’s idea immediately.

“No,” says Jaheira, also swiftly understanding her old friend’s meaning. “You cannot think to…”

“What other choice is there?” asks Adamant. “Do you want to explain to Nalia why we won’t be saving her father?”

Jaheira looks to Nalia, the young noble woman’s face showing a mix of hope, fear and pain. The unspoken plan hangs over her, over the whole party, like an ominous thundercloud. Jaheira’s ready objections are not strong enough to outweigh the obvious advantage, though.

“If you are to stew these poor creatures,” says the half-elven druid. “Then I will oversee the slaughter, to ensure that they do not suffer.”

Adamant nods, glad to not have to fight for this course of action; it is distasteful enough without having to argue the merits. They all wait while Yoshi scouts the way ahead, his footfalls soft as feather down. When he gives them the all clear, they sneak as best they can towards the castle bailey and the kennels.

----

The bailey of the De’Arnise castle resembles something half way between a battlefield and an ash heap. Scattered about, still uncollected after several weeks, are the bodies of several soldiers, the tattered remnants of their liveried surcoats marking their roles when they lived. The bodies are half rotted, the stench thickening the air, and several of them look as though they have been bitten or chewed at by animals.

“If the dogs have been allowed to develop a taste for human flesh then they would have to be put down, regardless of the outcome of the battle,” says Anomen sagely. As a druid, Jaheira sees things differently, but she says nothing.

Also scattered about the yard is rubbish and refuse of all kinds; piles of animal dung, and troll; broken furniture; livestock carcasses. It is clear that neither the trolls nor the yuan-ti care anything for hygiene or the maintenance of the castle in good order. From the left of where the party entered the bailey comes the sound of dogs barking and Nalia points in that direction, indicating the kennels.

Following the curve of the outer wall the party turns a corner and comes upon a pack of four dogs, jaws dripping with foam, coats mucky with filth and blood, probably their own in many cases. The poor animals have been driven rabid by being forced to survive under the cruel vagaries of the castle’s occupiers. Their reason for barking however is a huge otyugh, larger even than the one that Jaheira and Adamant fought in their escape from Irenicus’ lair. The beast stands in front of the companions, between them and the dogs. Its bulbous body waddles on stumpy legs as it harries the dog pack with its poisoned tentacles. The creature stinks like a charnel house, worse than the rot of the yard, and the party nearly chokes on the foetid stench it. The otyugh does not notice their arrival, focussed instead on the barking dogs which dance and dodge around its tentacle attacks, clearly wary of the ponderous monster.

“It seems the beast might do our job for us,” whispers Yoshimo, choking on a cough from the polluted air. He spits, trying to drive out the foul taste, but failing miserably. Adamant and Anomen consider his comment for a moment, looking each other in the eyes. Anomen shakes his head softly and both men realise that they are thinking the same thing; no matter the dog’s condition, this is no fate for any beast.

“Not this day,” says Adamant tersely. He and Anomen raise their weapons and with no other word, fall upon the otyugh’s back, striking without restraint.

The beast squeals like a frightened pig and the warrior’s blows release sprays of thick, redish-green ichor that smells worse than the creature itself. The droplets sting the skin where they land. The otyugh turns on its ungainly legs, trying to swing its tentacles against the new enemies. Adamant and Anomen have used the element of surprise to great effect though, and backed by Jaheira with her scimitar, the beast goes down into the mud.

There is a moment’s pause in the kennel yard and then the dogs begin barking again and, driven mad by stench, stress and suffering, they assault the party. The adventurer’s attend to the sad task of the hounds’ destruction with a grim efficiency, sickened by the act and their need for it to be quickly over.

----

Butchering the dogs, Anomen proves himself surprisingly adept at flensing, swiftly cutting the carcasses into portions for cooking. Even Jaheira, her training making her familiar with the physiognomy of animals, is impressed by his cool manner and competent hands.

“The Lady De’Arnise was not wrong when she said my father was a merchant,” Anomen says by way of explanation, the knife in his hands never stopping for a moment. “Handling carcasses between farms and the city butchers was one of our more lucrative trades when I was young. Father had me learn something of the trade because he said I needed to understand a trade so I wouldn’t be too easily deceived by butchers when I took over the family business.” He stops talking for a moment and a dark shadow passes over his face. “That was when I was still going to take over the family business, of course.”

“Not to worry,” says Yoshimo, patting Anomen on the back. “Life is mostly a winding road of many detours, not a straight highway from birth to death.”

“Yes,” agrees Nalia, her face also thoughtful.

Anomen’s mouth twists into a half smile at Yoshimo’s words and he looks up from the butchering to say something when he catches sight of a head bobbing over the edge of the castle wall. It is a yuan-ti warrior, its head moving up and down with the snake man’s slithering gait.

“Foe,” whispers Anomen, dropping the flensing knife and reaching for his mace.

Jaheira and Adamant turn swiftly and get a clear glimpse of the snake warrior as it leans its head over the edge of the wall, looking down into the kennel yard. It seems about to raise the alarm when an arrow pierces its lower jaw, shot from Yoshimo’s bow. A swift conjuration flows from Nalia’s lips and a long stream of arcane flame leaps from her hands, burning the yuan-ti’s chest, forcing the creature back from the edge of the wall.

Adamant takes up the Chaos Blade in his right hand and quickly gives his orders; “You four, get that meat to the kitchens and get a stew made.”

“What will you be doing?” asks Jaheira as Adamant rushes towards a stone staircase leading up the side of the wall.

“We’ve been lucky up till now,” he says as he turns onto the stairs. “It’s time we opened drawbridge and let the house guards join the fray. I’ll see you in the kitchens.”

Jaheira wants to call out for him to be careful but the words caught in her throat. Somehow the thought makes her uncomfortable. Instead she turns to the others and helps to gather up the piles of dog meat. As the four make their way cautiously back into the keep, Nalia draws alongside Jaheira.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she says, comfortingly. Jaheira looks at Nalia with surprise and then her expression hardens into the druid’s usual mask.

“Of course he will be,” Jaheira says harshly. “But I’m getting tired of fixing him up after his foolish heroics.”

“Oh,” is all Nalia can think to say, a puzzled look on her face.

The four make the rest of the distance to the kitchens in silence, the fresh dog meat dripping a thin trail of blood behind them.