Baldur's Gate II Shadows of Amn (3 page)

“We will kill you first, necromancer,” a man screamed from somewhere in the middle of the battle, “then take what you owe us … take the son of…” The voice was lost again under the din of battle.

A wave of bright purple fire washed across everything, and Abdel was thrown across the rough floor. All throughout the underground chamber, people were being scattered. Chunks of orange crystal came out of the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Weapons came out of hands, and at least one boot was pulled off a foot and hit Abdel in the face. Everywhere there were dangerous, heavy, sharp things flying through the air and people sailing upside down, crashing into the ceiling, walls, floor, and each other.

Abdel called, “Jaheira!” then, with a wild, yellow-eyed look of incomprehensible fate in his eyes, “Imoen!”

What was Imoen doing here? The last time Abdel had seen the young woman—barely more than a little girl—was behind the sheltered walls of Candlekeep. She was an irritating kid who didn’t take Abdel seriously enough at all, was openly disrespectful and catty, and one of the few friends Abdel ever had in the monastery-fortress where he’d grown up. He couldn’t begin to fathom what she might be doing in this place. She was a captive of these men who might be Shadow Thieves, but how, when, and why had they taken her from Candlekeep?

A handful of the warring assassins were on fire now in the wake of the bizarre, obviously magic-spawned explosion. There was a thick stench of smoke, burned hair, and blood. A few men were getting to their feet. Some crawled around searching for weapons. Others had started to kill each other already. Most of the room was blocked from Abdel’s sight by a growing pall of smoke, but he started in anyway.

“Imoen!” he called sharply and was sure he heard her answer, though now there was a growing cacophony of steel on steel again ringing through the chamber. A piece of the ceiling fell in front of him, and he had to step back to avoid it. Someone grabbed him roughly from behind, and Abdel whirled with his right fist in front of him.

The red-haired man grunted and stepped back fast. Abdel was surprised enough that he missed hitting the madman.

“Gotta go!” the madman said. “Boo demands it! Boo demands—”

He stopped when he saw Abdel raise his fist again, and he flinched when it looked as if Abdel was going to punch him. Instead, the big sellsword pushed him down by one shoulder and saved his life in the process. A gleaming steel blade arced through the air where the madman’s red scalp had been less than the blink of an eye before. Abdel had to bend backward an inch or two himself to avoid its singing tip.

Abdel waited the half second it took for the sword blade to finish its fast arc, then punched out with his left hand in one abbreviated movement that snapped the swordsman’s neck back nearly enough to kill him. Losing blood from a viciously cut lip, the man went down hard, blinking all the way. As he fell, Abdel deftly slid the sword out of his hand, and just as the soldier hit the battered flagstone floor, Abdel had the sword up to parry another soldier’s uncertain strike.

Soldiers wearing tabards Abdel immediately recognized as Amnian were flooding into the chamber from doorways the sellsword hadn’t noticed before. In the smoke, screaming, and confusion, Abdel couldn’t tell who was who, and neither could the soldiers, who just took on everybody in the place as they came in.

“Gotta go!” the red-haired man, now standing again in front of Abdel, said.

Abdel parried another swing from the confused soldier, who kept glancing down at Abdel’s naked body and blushing. The son of Bhaal batted the Amman’s sword away and punched him in the face hard enough to send him down to join his friend on the floor.

“Imoen,” Abdel said. He couldn’t fathom how these kidnappers had managed to get Imoen out of Candlekeep. She had been an orphan who ended up in the care of Winthrop, an innkeeper well known and well liked in Candlekeep. Winthrop was an easier man than Gorion, less demanding, and Imoen’s frivolous ways and casual demeanor were easy to explain. She was a good kid and didn’t deserve to be here.

“Boo,” the red-haired man said, kicking a black-clad assassin in the groin and taking his sword out of his hand as he went down, just like he saw Abdel do, “says ‘Gotta go!’”

Even a lesser vampire is strong enough to break a human’s neck. This was proven three times in a single minute as two of Bodhi’s thralls protected her from the rushing advance of the guards.

Bodhi looked through the smoke-filled chamber and sighed in profound disappointment. The Shadow Thieves had come, angry apparently at the handling of this Abdel person and the girl. She hadn’t even seen this man Abdel. The Shadow Thieves had asked Bodhi and Irenicus to capture him, but Irenicus seemed as interested in him and this girl he described as Abdel’s half-sister as the Shadow Thieves were. This is why they’d kept the prisoners longer than the Shadow Thieves wanted them too.

The response from the assassins was a testament to both their impatience and the level of desire they had for at least these two prisoners. Bodhi hoped that the guild of assassins she was gathering herself—on orders from Irenicus—would be as devoted.

Now the militia had appeared, attracted by what, Bodhi couldn’t be sure. Maybe there was an informant among the Shadow Thieves. Maybe the noise and the shaking of the ground was something they could actually hear or feel on the surface. Maybe, Bodhi thought with a wry smile, the neighbors were complaining.

She tightened her grip on the girl’s long, soft hair and kicked out at a running soldier, lifting him two feet in the air by his groin and laughing as he fell to the floor with tears streaming from his eyes and blood beginning to soak through his leather codpiece.

“Imoen!” a solid, deep voice called from somewhere in the confusion, and Bodhi looked up to find the source of the voice.

She almost allowed herself a gasp at the sight of the huge man, naked and straining against a red-haired man who was trying to pull him out of the room. He was beautiful, this naked one. He almost seemed to glow. Bodhi felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time, since before she entered her state of undeath. The feeling made her smile.

“Abdel,” the girl whose hair she was holding whimpered. This made Bodhi grin even wider.

“This is Abdel?” the vampire whispered, not caring that Imoen couldn’t hear her over the sound of the melee.

A soldier slid to a stop in front of her, leveled a crossbow at her face, and shrieked, “Release the girl and step—” in a shrill voice cut off when one of her thralls stepped in.

The lesser vampire twisted the crossbow back into the soldier’s throat. The steel tip punctured skin, and the soldier jerked, releasing the catch and sending the bolt slicing through his own throat with nearly enough force to behead him. The man coughed once, and the thrall opened his mouth, straining for the taller man’s neck. The soldier’s eyes rolled toward the thrall in abject horror, then blinked when a spray of blood covered his face. Bodhi’s servant was feeding, and she let him.

She looked over to where a small group of soldiers were fighting with a pair of more skilled Shadow Thieves. They fought over the prone form of a young woman—the one who had been captured in Baldur’s Gate with Abdel.

“That one too?” Bodhi asked loudly.

Oh, yes, Irenicus’s voice answered in her head, that one too.

Where are you? she asked him without speaking.

Gone from there, he answered, as I suggest you do as well. These soldiers are as endless as raindrops and even more irritating. You could take days just killing them one after another.

One in each hand, then, she thought with a smile, then said aloud, “Abdel, until we meet again….”

Abdel wrenched free of the clutching hands of his friend and turned back into the chaos-filled chamber. He caught another glimpse of Imoen’s face. Someone he couldn’t see was pulling her by the hair. Abdel’s head spun. What was she doing here?

He growled in rage and frustration when two soldiers drew arrows, pointed them at him, and one of them shouted “Just stop it! Stop right there!”

Abdel charged forward, trying to get in too close before the archers could react, but the lingering smoke made it hard to tell where he was, and the simple presence of Imoen threw him so badly he ended up just running into a deathtrap. He heard the bowstrings vibrate, and in the blink of an eye he felt one, then another jabbing pain in his chest. He took a deep breath, and the attempt made him flinch and cough, which only caused more pain. His foot slipped on a piece of broken crystal. He heard one of the soldiers laugh, then the other or maybe both grunt out all the air in their lungs. Abdel went down, twisting his ankle painfully, and he cursed all the way to the floor.

Abdel’s head hit the flagstones, and the sound of battle was replaced by a shamefully hollow thud. There was a roaring in his head, and the light dimmed, then focused into a spot of hazy blur in the middle of his vision. Abdel tried to blink, but his eyelids actually hurt. He thought he might have groaned, but he couldn’t be sure. Abdel was out cold.

The next thing Abdel was conscious of was the word “need,” and the second was the pain. The roaring sound was still in his head, and there were specific points of agony flaring up as his body seemed to come back to life an inch at a time. The specific points faded in and out of an overall dull throb.

With his eyes still closed, Abdel tried to put a hand to his temple, but moving his elbow somehow made his head hurt worse, so he just let his arm fall, feeling the rough stone beneath him.

“I know, Boo,” a strange voice said, “I know.”

“Get up, my friend,” another voice demanded. The order seemed entirely ludicrous to Abdel, who had every intention of staying exactly where he was for the rest of his life.

“Boo!” the first voice—Abdel remembered the red hair, the strong touch as this man pulled him away from something.

“Get up, now, get up!” The second voice was Yo-some-thing.

“Yo … sho … yo …” Abdel murmured, the sound riding around the inside of his head on a little chariot of dull pain.

“Yes, sir, yes it is Yoshimo,” the voice said.

It can’t be, Abdel thought. They were pulling me away from Jaheira and …

“Imoen,” Abdel said aloud and opened his eyes to a comfortable orange glow and the faces of the men who stopped him from saving the lives of two women he cared very deeply for. Abdel sat up, as unpleasant as it was, and started carefully planning the deaths of the two men.

“I am Minsc,” the red-haired man said, smiling around blood that was oozing from a ragged cut on his right cheek, “and it is a pleasure to fight alongside you. Boo tells me your name is Abdel.”

“Boo?” Abdel asked before he really even thought about it.

Minsc was wearing a simple, tattered tunic, which he held bunched at his chest with his left hand. He smiled and opened a fold in the dirty cloth to reveal a tiny brown and white rodent with eyes like black buttons. A pointed pink nose and whiskers twitched as it sniffed the air in front of Abdel.

“This is Boo,” Minsc said with the smile of a pleased toddler. “He protects me with his stern intelligence.”

Abdel ran quickly through several possible responses in his head before settling on, “Fine.”

The big sellsword looked up for the Kozakuran, but he and Minsc were alone now in the intersection.

“Yoshimo!” he called, but there was no response.

“If you say so, Boo,” Minsc whispered, then said to Abdel, “He must have already gone. I mean, Boo thi—says he’s already gone.”

Abdel sighed and brushed grit and the dust of shattered orange crystals from his body. He was suddenly aware that he was still naked, but he didn’t bother to blush in the presence of the madman.

“Boo says this way,” Minsc told him, then started off down one of the passages.

“That’s the way back?” Abdel asked, determined to find Jaheira and Imoen.

“I’m afraid not, my friend,” Yoshimo’s voice came from the darkness of a side passage.

“Yoshimo?” Abdel called, his sword at the ready. The Kozakuran emerged from the darkness, smiling contentedly.

“Indeed it is I, sir,” Yoshimo replied. “I have found the way out.”

“I don’t want to get out,” Abdel stated flatly. “I need to get back to where we left Jaheira.”

“If that were possible, my friend,” Yoshimo said, “I would applaud your courage and send you on your way. But alas, that passage collapsed just as we passed through.”

“Boo says this way,” Minsc repeated.

Yoshimo ignored the madman and looked Abdel up and down. “You are not in a condition that will help you to help her,” he said to Abdel. “Perhaps we should get out of here, regroup, and come back for your friend. I knew her for only a short time, but it was my opinion that she will be able to care for herself for at least this nearly as short time, no?”

Abdel clenched his teeth to bite back an angry response. He hated more than anything to admit it, but the Kozakuran was right. Yoshimo nodded and turned back into the dark passageway. Abdel got up and followed him, having no better idea which way to go.

It was possible that the learned men Abdel grew up around in the library-fortress of Candlekeep had a name for this peculiar feeling of recognition, but if they did, Abdel didn’t know it.

“There’s a dirty picture scratched into the railing at the end of the ramp,” Abdel told Minsc and Yoshimo. They both just looked at him quizzically.

They’d come up out of the tunnels by climbing rusted iron ladder rungs into a dusty, empty room as big as a barn. There were wide doors on the two short ends of the rectangular building and a normal-sized door on one side. The little door was closer to the wooden trapdoor they’d climbed out of, so they went out that way into the hazy light of early evening.

There was a straight wooden deck outside the door. A low wooden rail wrapped around it and led down the scratch-planked ramp to the hard dry dirt the warehouse was standing on. Around them was the subdued bustle of a city well into the process of settling down at the end of the day.

Minsc, sighing with a shaking fatigue, ambled down the ramp and looked at the spot on the railing Abdel had pointed to.