Sword's Wrath 2 - Funeral Games

Right, well, this is the last we'll see of Chateau Irenicus. Which can only be a good thing. I suppose there's a niche for an entire novel to be set in there, but I'm certainly not volunteering to write it.


Chapter 2 – Funeral Games


Edgar leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Mephits, genies, dryads, golems… he was beginning to get some insights into the mind of their captor and wasn’t sure that he liked what he saw. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled, unconsciously hefting the magical bastard sword he’d taken from a captive demon.

“Whoa!” Imoen backed away hastily. “Edgar, I was just…I didn’t mean…” She looked on the verge of tears and he instantly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Imoen. I’m just a bit on edge. This place is getting to me, I suppose.” She nodded, but he noticed that she kept her distance as they moved towards the portal that he’d been assured by the dryads would take them closer to the surface. He paused in front of it, gazing into its swirling depths. True, it could be a way onwards. The dryads had no reason to lie, did they? On the other hand, “Never trust half-naked women you encounter in a dungeon” had always been a favourite maxim of his, ever since that succubus in Durlag’s Tower, and it could equally be a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire, or perhaps a choice hell of their captor’s devising.

Except that he wasn’t just ‘captor’ any more. The dryads had put a name to the mask.

Irenicus.

Just thinking about him, what he had done to him and others, brought Edgar out in a cold sweat as fear warred with anger. To end the internal conflict as much as anything else, he stepped through the portal, hoping that if it was a trap, he might at least be able to give some warning to his companions before they followed him into it.

The world was suddenly twisted out of recognition, then just as quickly reassembled as he stepped out on the other side. He’d been hoping for some signs that he was nearing a way out, but what greeted him was yet another dungeon room. An occupied dungeon room.

“Hold, stranger! If you are not in league with the evil that dwells here, Yoshimo begs your assistance!”

Relieved that he wasn’t going to be fighting, at least not for a few seconds, Edgar studied the man before him. From his face, he was a Kozakuran, though Edgar had only ever met one other member of that nation before and couldn’t be certain. From his clothing and lack of heavy armour, he was probably a rogue of some kind. Edgar kept his sword pointing at the man as he wondered whether to trust him.

His deliberations were cut short as the rest of his party followed him through the portal, and he realised that perhaps he should have moved out of the way a little sooner.

As he picked himself up from the tangle of limbs that resulted, Edgar heard laughter. The sound was almost unfamiliar after so long – how long? – but unmistakeable. This Yoshimo was laughing at them! Climbing to his feet and dusting himself down, he consoled himself with the thought that at least this proved the man’s lack of hostile intentions. He had had ample opportunity to strike at them while they lay on the ground.

He made a stab at getting some dignity back. “It seems we are not enemies, for the moment. Might I ask how you came to be here?”

Yoshimo looked sheepish. “It is a little embarrassing, actually. I am usually among the greatest of my profession, but…I confess I was caught unawares. I was drugged, and when I woke up I found myself here. Though where ‘here’ is, I cannot say. I was captured in Athkatla – it could be that we are under the city, or somewhere else entirely. Regardless, I would appreciate your assistance in escaping.”

“Then you shall have it” replied Edgar, deciding on impulse to trust him. “Join us, and…” he suddenly realised that there were three others who should have had some say in this decision. He turned back to them sheepishly. “Er…thoughts, anybody?”

Jaheira stared stonily at him. “It appears that you have taken the decision for us, O authority figure.”

“Er…yes. Anyway. Perhaps we should all know each other first. This is Jaheira, this is Imoen, and this is Minsc. (Squeak). Sorry, and Boo. I am Edgar of Candlekeep. Guys, this is Yoshimo.”

“The Yoshimo.” Yoshimo corrected him. He looked at their blank faces. “You know? Yoshimo?”

“Wait a minute…” mused Edgar. “Yoshimo the master thief? The man who stole the Diamond of Debennizar from under the noses of the Seriph’s finest guards? Who killed the wizard Argus without leaving a trace of a wound on the body? Who stole from the hoard of the fabled Beast of Madmoor and lived to tell the tale?”

Yoshimo looked sheepish. “Er, no. A distant relation. Everyone makes that mistake.”

“Well, never mind your notoriety, or lack of it,” put in Jaheira. “Shall we move on? We should not be wasting time here talking. The assassins that attacked this place will not occupy Irenicus for long, if indeed they still do.”

“Right,” agreed Edgar. “Yoshimo, what’s in the next room?”

***


Mephits. It would have to be mephits, wouldn’t it? Edgar was beginning to get sick of fighting them. He caught one with the edge of his sword and sent it whirling away to smash against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Imoen and Yoshimo team up to bring down a bright red mephit that was clearly confused by the concept of having more than one target. Minsc whirled past, the Sword of Chaos leaving severed mephit parts as he went. With the way clear, Edgar dashed forwards and pushed his sword into the heart of the final spawning portal. The shadowy creature inside gave out a keening wail as it was impaled. Then all was silence.

No, not quite all. There was something else.

A woman sobbing.

He turned around to comfort Imoen. “It’s all right…” he began, and realised that she wasn’t crying. She was staring at Jaheira, who had sunk to her knees in front of a makeshift torture rack. I didn’t think she’d be the first to crack, he thought, puzzled, but moved to comfort her anyway. Half way across the room, he stopped. There was a body on the rack. A familiar body. He heard Imoen gasp, then quietly begin to cry herself. Minsc let out a wail and dropped to his knees.

Edgar was the first to say it.

“Khalid?”

***


They moved on in silence. There was nothing that could be said, and nothing that Jaheira wanted to hear. Tentatively, Edgar tried to put his arm round her, but hurriedly withdrew it as she snarled at him, grief and anger contorting her features.

Behind them, flames danced as the makeshift funeral pyre burned. There was a whoosh as the mephit and goblin bodies they’d doused in oil ignited. It was a crude, barbaric tradition when you thought about it rationally, but nobody had argued with Minsc’s suggestion that they send Khalid to the next world surrounded by his slain enemies.

Only Jaheira looked back. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered hoarsely. Then with new determination she hurried forward, only one thought on her mind.

Revenge.

[quote] Right, well, this is the last we'll see of Chateau Irenicus. Which can only be a good thing. I suppose there's a niche for an entire novel to be set in there, but I'm certainly not volunteering to write it. [/quote] Hey it only took me 16 chapters and three or so months to get all the way through Jon boy’s dungeon, you act like it’s a big deal or something.

[quote] Edgar leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Mephits, genies, dryads, golems… [/quote] *breaks into song “these are a few of my favorite things”

[quote] “I’m sorry, Imoen. I’m just a bit on edge. This place is getting to me, I suppose.” She nodded, but he noticed that she kept her distance as they moved towards the portal that he’d been assured by the dryads would take them closer to the surface. He paused in front of it, gazing into its swirling depths. True, it could be a way onwards. The dryads had no reason to lie, did they? On the other hand, “Never trust half-naked women you encounter in a dungeon” had always been a favourite maxim of his, ever since that succubus in Durlag’s Tower, and it could equally be a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire, or perhaps a choice hell of their captor’s devising. [/quote] any of the above destinations would be a distinct improvement

[quote] Relieved that he wasn’t going to be fighting, at least not for a few seconds, Edgar studied the man before him. From his face, he was a Kozakuran, though Edgar had only ever met one other member of that nation before and couldn’t be certain. From his clothing and lack of heavy armour, he was probably a rogue of some kind. Edgar kept his sword pointing at the man as he wondered whether to trust him. [/quote] welcome Yoshi.

[quote] “Then you shall have it” replied Edgar, deciding on impulse to trust him. “Join us, and…” he suddenly realised that there were three others who should have had some say in this decision. He turned back to them sheepishly. “Er…thoughts, anybody?”

Jaheira stared stonily at him. “It appears that you have taken the decision for us, O authority figure.” [/quote] Sarcasm fully deserved.

[quote] “Er…yes. Anyway. Perhaps we should all know each other first. This is Jaheira, this is Imoen, and this is Minsc. ( Squeak ). Sorry, and Boo. I am Edgar of Candlekeep. Guys, this is Yoshimo.” [/quote] Authorartian with just a touch of sexism. Not that Jaheiar or Imoen would complain chicks dig being referred to as ‘guys.’

[quote] “Wait a minute…” mused Edgar. “Yoshimo the master thief? The man who stole the Diamond of Debennizar from under the noses of the Seriph’s finest guards? Who killed the wizard Argus without leaving a trace of a wound on the body? Who stole from the hoard of the fabled Beast of Madmoor and lived to tell the tale?” [/quote] Wow, someone finally recognized him, bet that made Yoshimo’s day.

[quote] Yoshimo looked sheepish. “Er, no. A distant relation. Everyone makes that mistake.” [/quote] Common mistake I’m sure.

[quote] Mephits. It would have to be mephits, wouldn’t it? Edgar was beginning to get sick of fighting them. [/quteo] THery are increasingly popular with the evil set; cheep labor with a flair for decorating, who could ask for more?.

[quote] Behind them, flames danced as the makeshift funeral pyre burned. There was a whoosh as the mephit and goblin bodies they’d doused in oil ignited. It was a crude, barbaric tradition when you thought about it rationally, but nobody had argued with Minsc’s suggestion that they send Khalid to the next world surrounded by his slain enemies. [/quote] interesting funeral rite. Very nice touch.

Right, well, this is the last we'll see of Chateau Irenicus. Which can only be a good thing. I suppose there's a niche for an entire novel to be set in there, but I'm certainly not volunteering to write it.

I started outside it. Can be made very interesting, but requires a lot of effort.

“I’m sorry, Imoen. I’m just a bit on edge. This place is getting to me, I suppose.” She nodded, but he noticed that she kept her distance as they moved towards the portal that he’d been assured by the dryads would take them closer to the surface. He paused in front of it, gazing into its swirling depths. True, it could be a way onwards. The dryads had no reason to lie, did they? On the other hand, “Never trust half-naked women you encounter in a dungeon” had always been a favourite maxim of his, ever since that succubus in Durlag’s Tower, and it could equally be a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire, or perhaps a choice hell of their captor’s devising.

Good maxim, that. He might just get to the end of the ToB if he sticks to it.

“Hold, stranger! If you are not in league with the evil that dwells here, Yoshimo begs your assistance!”

Uhuh. The ever-friendly, casually-abandoned bounty hunter props up out of nowhere. Hardly suspicious.

“Then you shall have it” replied Edgar, deciding on impulse to trust him. “Join us, and…” he suddenly realised that there were three others who should have had some say in this decision. He turned back to them sheepishly. “Er…thoughts, anybody?”

Jaheira stared stonily at him. “It appears that you have taken the decision for us, O authority figure.”

Hehe... always asking her for opinion is a key to be on good terms with Jaheira.

“Wait a minute…” mused Edgar. “Yoshimo the master thief? The man who stole the Diamond of Debennizar from under the noses of the Seriph’s finest guards? Who killed the wizard Argus without leaving a trace of a wound on the body? Who stole from the hoard of the fabled Beast of Madmoor and lived to tell the tale?”

Oh, goodie, he knows.

Yoshimo looked sheepish. “Er, no. A distant relation. Everyone makes that mistake.”

But of course.

“Right,” agreed Edgar. “Yoshimo, what’s in the next room?”

A good question. One that you would not want to get answered.

No, not quite all. There was something else.

A woman sobbing.

He turned around to comfort Imoen. “It’s all right…” he began, and realised that she wasn’t crying. She was staring at Jaheira, who had sunk to her knees in front of a makeshift torture rack. I didn’t think she’d be the first to crack, he thought, puzzled, but moved to comfort her anyway. Half way across the room, he stopped. There was a body on the rack. A familiar body. He heard Imoen gasp, then quietly begin to cry herself. Minsc let out a wail and dropped to his knees.

Very good. Short, yet effective and painful enough.

They moved on in silence. There was nothing that could be said, and nothing that Jaheira wanted to hear. Tentatively, Edgar tried to put his arm round her, but hurriedly withdrew it as she snarled at him, grief and anger contorting her features.

Yes, that's Jaheira...

Behind them, flames danced as the makeshift funeral pyre burned. There was a whoosh as the mephit and goblin bodies they’d doused in oil ignited. It was a crude, barbaric tradition when you thought about it rationally, but nobody had argued with Minsc’s suggestion that they send Khalid to the next world surrounded by his slain enemies.

Yeah, it felt just wrong to leave him like that.

Only Jaheira looked back. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered hoarsely. Then with new determination she hurried forward, only one thought on her mind.

Revenge.

Hope it doesn't consume her totally.