We fear the monsters that come in the night, the ghosts and goblins. And yet, the worst monsters of all are the ones that live inside us.
Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'
"…and their bodies were found laid out in a clearing in the northern forest, horribly mutilated and forming the pattern."
"What pattern?" Zaerini asked, swallowing a little. She didn't believe more than a fraction of what Vincenzo was telling her, of course, but man, he sure sounded as if he believed in what he said.
"The dark and unholy pattern of Umar, of course," the innkeeper went on, then swiftly murmured a brief prayer to Waukeen. "It is forbidden to speak of it."
"Then why did you just do so?"
"Well, I didn't draw it, did I? That's the forbidden part, actually showing it."
"How about describing it? If we come across any strange patterns in the forest, we want to be sure it's the right one, after all."
Vincenzo cleared his throat. "Er…there are actually no records at all about what it looked like, except that it was horrible. After all, that was 200 years ago, the last truly great rampage that the Umar Witch went on." He lowered his voice even more. "And then…three months ago, there were these kids, two boys and a girl. Young apprentice wizards, so they said, though they all seemed like decent enough kids to me. Said they were doing a project on the Umar Witch, had all sorts of mystical magical equipment with them that they took into the forest. And…they never…returned. All that was found was the diary belonging to the poor lass, and it was all torn up and stained with…BLOOD!" His voice took on a more businesslike note. "Actually, I happen to have the book, right here. If you're sure about going into the forest, you may want to buy it, seeing how it could save your lives one day. Of course, I'd have to charge a pretty steep price for it, since it's one of a kind…about 500 gold or so sounds right to me."
"That's very expensive for a book," Rini said, shaking her heard. "I don't know, I think I'd want to take a look at it first. Don't you agree, Jan? Jan?" She looked around for the gnome but couldn't see him anywhere.
"Right here, your worship," came Jan's voice from a small door in the corner behind the bar. There was a blurry ripple in the air, and the gnome became visible, as did the thin volume he was holding in his hands. "Fascinating stuff, this 'Umar Witch Project', except there are far too few griffins in it. Anyway, there's about 500 copies of it in that room where I found it."
"Is that so?" Zaerini said, looking at Vincenzo who had the grace to blush. "Well, if 500 gold was a reasonable price for one of a kind, then I think one gold is a reasonable price for one of 500, don't you, Vince?"
"It's Vincenzo!"
"Get over it, Vince. It was a nice scam, and I'm sure there'll be a lot of strangers you can con later on with your ghost stories, but not us. Sell it to me for my price, and I might just tell the story elsewhere, bringing you more customers, how's that?"
The innkeeper's eyes lit up. "You'd do that?"
"I just might…if you in turn let me do some advertising for my new theatre in your inn. I scratch your back, you scratch mine, what do you say, Vince? Oh, and I mean that strictly in a symbolical way, in case you were wondering."
Vincenzo smiled, a big and beaming smile showing a lot of teeth. "A woman after my own heart – and you have a deal!"
"I cannot believe you are seriously contemplating doing this," Edwin said, his face a pale shade of green as he watched the chickens. The chickens, those white and fluffy little brainless creatures, looked back at him in mute incomprehension, apart from the occasional soft cluck. "Couldn't we simply slaughter the lot of them, and pick up the bauble from the remains? (Besides, it would make us a nice dinner. It has been some time since I exposed my Hellkitten to fine Thayvian cuisine, the kind that makes your taste buds tingle with wanton desire. Now, I should still have some Thayvian Red Peppers stored in my pack, perfect for a sizzling hot romantic dinner…)"
"Absolutely out of the question!" Jaheira replied and went back to critically observing the chickens. "We may have bought them honestly…"
"And at a far higher than reasonable price, I might add! (By all rights they should give me the stupid animals for the honor of feeding a Red Wizard.)"
"As I said," the druid went on, "we may have bought these animals honestly, but that does not mean we have the right to treat them with cruelty."
"So, we slaughter them painlessly! A simple Death spell should easily handle that, they won't feel a thing and there will be no need for any disgusting activities such as you are proposing!" Edwin's hands had already begun to move, shaping the spell, when Jaheira grabbed him hard enough by the wrist that he yelped out loud.
"I said no! Now, pay attention instead of complaining. We only know that the gem that the farmer hid is inside one of the chickens, but not which one, and the animals themselves do not seem to understand me when I try to question them about it."
"Not surprising. You cannot expect much of a brain to fit inside that tiny a cranium, after all."
"So, we must examine them ourselves. Now, what you do is that you take the chicken by its legs, and then you turn it over like so…"
Edwin sighed deeply, but he did pick up an angrily squawking chicken, dreading the moment of truth. Somehow, molesting poultry was not what he had envisioned adventuring would be like.
Anomen and Minsc hadn't got much further with the young man pining for his lost love. The fellow swore he would tell them all about Valygar Corthala and where to find him but refused to say a word unless they assisted him in his courting of 'the fair Colette', daughter of the local Cowled Wizard, Jermyn. Eventually, Anomen had agreed. Annoying as it was to be balked like this, it was for a good cause after all. He asked Minsc to wait outside, thinking that the large ranger's brand of diplomacy might not work very well with a tetchy mage.
Regrettably, Anomen himself didn't have much more luck. The wizard Jermyn, a paunchy little man with a ludicrously long beard, seemed utterly determined that his daughter not 'run off with some wishy-washy young idiot who sniffles as soon as you look at him.' He was also singularly uninterested in the murders happening in the area, professing to know nothing whatsoever about them. Briefly, Anomen contemplated bringing up Valygar Corthala, but then decided against it. That might bring unwanted interference from the Cowled Wizards, after all. The only thing Jermyn seemed interesting in discussing was the rare magical ingredients he needed for his current research project…a large stone golem that stood motionless in the middle of his study, staring at nothing with blank eyes.
"The blood of a mimic," Jermyn declared. "My scrying tells me there should be one in the area, but I have been unable to locate it exactly. Find me that, and I'll be eternally grateful, not to mention reward you. Of course, there is the downside that a mimic is a shapechanger, so you won't know what it will look like until you come across it, but it often imitates treasure of some kind, in order to trick adventurers to come close."
"I will see what I can do," Anomen said, and then said his goodbyes. If the blood could be found, perhaps he could pass it on to the young suitor, and thus resolve the plight of the young lovers? It was something to consider, at least. The cleric stepped outside into the sunlight, and then blinked with surprise. There was Minsc…but there were also three teenage boys, gazing adoringly at the ranger, big smiles on their faces.
"Bastard swords and real Baator ale!" gushed the first one, a tall and gangly lad with so many pimples that Anomen was hard pressed to see any clear skin between them. "You're the best, Sir!"
"Yeah!" said the second, who was a short and skinny little blond wearing overly large pants that he kept having to hitch up. His voice oscillated between a piping soprano and a hoarse bass. "Now we can be real adventurers, just like you!"
"Our parents, like, try to hold us back all the time," declared the third, pouting a little. He had dyed his hair black, very badly. The dye had only taken partially, leaving him with black streaks through a mop of naturally mousy hair. Anomen privately thought it made him look a bit like a skunk, and the pungent smell of unwashed teenager added to the impression. "They don't understand us, we're, like, tormented unfettered souls yearning for, like, the call of adventure! Plus, being an adventurer gets you babes."
"Yeah! Babes!" his friends eagerly agreed. "Lots of hot chicks if you're an adventurer!"
"Boo approves of young boys wanting to do Deeds of Goodness and Heroism," Minsc said, scratching his head, "but he doesn't understand what chickens has to do with it?"
"Never mind, Sir! And thanks again!"
The boys took off, talking and laughing excitedly.
"Bye bye, little boys!" Minsc shouted after them. "Remember to stick the Evil Ones with the pointy end!"
"Minsc?" Anomen asked, feeling his stomach sinking a little with dread even as he did so. "Could you tell me what that was all about?"
"Oh, the nice little boys wanted to be Heroic Adventurers, friend Anomen! They asked Minsc to buy them the things they needed, and Minsc is always happy to help."
"So…you bought ale for those boys. And swords? Real swords? As in sharp, pointed, lethal weapons of personal destruction?"
"Of course, only a real sword is any use at all, good Anomen. Minsc once tried a wooden sword when he was very little, but wooden swords are only for play and break too easy. Why do you ask?"
"I…no, never mind." Anomen rubbed his eyebrows a little, trying to think, hoping the boys wouldn't get themselves killed. But they were already gone, and the deed was done. "I don't suppose you got their names, or their addresses? No? No, I didn't think so." Perhaps one can put 'Anonymous Young Fool' on the headstones? Thank Helm I was never that foolish and that likely to overestimate my own prowess. Thinking all you need is some ale and a sword, and then you are an instant hero…"Let us go talk with some other people now. And Minsc?"
"Yes, friend Anomen?"
"From now on, I think I should handle any purchases."
Somewhat later…
"And then we ran into this little girl, Kaatje, who apparently knew the ranger Merella," Zaerini explained, then rubbed at an annoying mosquito bite on her left arm. The adventurers were walking through the forest, heading for Merella's cottage, sharing their stories on the way. "She said she used to go visit Merella, but the last time she saw some kind of shadow coming out of Merella's cottage, and it left behind a trail of what was probably blood."
"And you are certain the child was not merely exaggerating?" Jaheira asked.
"Well, I can't be sure of course…but she seemed to believe what she was saying, at least. I suppose we'll find out. Anyway, of all our possible leads, Merella's cottage is supposedly the closest one, so I think it makes sense to start looking there before we go search out those ogres, or go hunting for Umar…though that book I bought does look interesting."
"Do not forget about Valygar Corthala, my lady," Anomen proudly commented. "Upon my honor, I feel assured that he will turn out to be the culprit." He stretched a little, and the sunlight streaming down through the treetops glinted off his newly polished armor. "I should have no trouble apprehending him on my own, no doubt the man is a weakling and a fop, as so many members of the old noble families."
Zaerini turned her head a little, and looked at Jaheira, just managing to catch the druid rolling her eyes.
"Is that so?" Jaheira said in a low voice that was almost a purr. She seemed more at ease out here in the forest, Rini noticed, in her natural domain. Though her step was as brisk as ever, there was a gliding quality to it, and she smoothly stepped around rocks and across fallen branches without ever seeming to need to look at the ground. "You feel you do not need any assistance at all?"
"What, lady Jaheira, for apprehending a common killer? I should hardly think so."
"How curious. And here I thought that you meant to bring along those boys you recruited in the village."
Anomen's cheeks turned a bright pink, and he cleared his throat nervously. "Ah…you heard about that?"
"Yes. Minsc told me about it. Could you really do nothing to stop him from equipping irresponsible children with alcohol and edged weapons? And if so, why not?"
"Er…I…"
Zaerini felt truly sorry about the way the cleric was squirming under Jaheira's firm gaze, she had been subject to that look enough times herself after all. Maybe I ought to help him out.
"So, Jaheira," she said with a bright smile, "you never did get around to telling us just what you and Eddie did with all those chickens you said you bought."
Edwin, who had been walking right behind her, suddenly groaned. "Please, do we really have to bring this subject up? (It was a traumatic enough experience in itself. And if I never see a chicken in my life again, I will be ecstatically pleased.) Now I need to wash my hands again."
"But you've washed them five times already since we left the village!"
"That is clearly inadequate – and I will not explain why."
"We found this," Jaheira said, and reached into her belt pouch to retrieve something round and glittering that she tossed to the bard. "It belonged to the adventurer daughter of the farmers from whom we purchased those chickens, and she had found it just before she died. As for the chickens, I sold them on to the innkeeper."
Rini gave the object an interested look. It was a gem, a large one, about the size of a plum, and of a kind she'd never seen before. Bright yellow, smooth and round, and inside it there seemed to be a flickering light, white and hot. "It's beautiful," she said. "Where did this daughter find it?"
"Where else?" Jaheira said, with a brief nod of her head towards the darkness between the densely clustered spruces along the narrow path. "In the forest to the north of here, the part of the forest where the 'Umar Witch' supposedly performed her atrocities."
Can't say I'm all that surprised. "And how did she die again?"
Jaheira's mouth set in a grim line. "She was found dying on her parents' porch at dawn. Her belly had been torn open, and…something…had been feeding off her. She was lying on soft ground, the wounds were fresh, and yet there were no tracks around her, only her own."
"Oh. I see." Imnesvale? This village should be called 'Ominousvale'.
"If there were no tracks," Edwin says, "that seems to rule out the ogres. (Unless they have developed wings somehow. Like chickens. No! Don't think about chickens!)"
"It sure looks that way," Rini agreed. "But we don't know for sure that there's only one thing at work here, the ogres could still have done some of the killings. Let's keep an open mind for now and see what we can dig up at Merella's cottage."
Figuratively, I hope, Softpaws said. The cat had been rather subdued ever since arriving in Imnesvale, and now Zaerini picked her up and gave her a soothing rub behind the ears.
What's wrong, Softy?
This place…there has been something here, not long ago. Something bad, something that stinks so I can hardly think. You should get into your proper shape, then you'd know what I mean.
I might do just that…it could be helpful. Softy? What does it smell of, exactly?
What else? Death, Kitten.
And with that cheerful thought still ringing in her head, Zaerini set eyes upon Merella's cottage at last. It was a long, low log-house, its wood darkened by old age, and it was set in a small clearing. By the porch, Rini noticed a vegetable patch, but whatever it was that had grown there had been completely overtaken by weeds by now. In the distance, she could still hear chirping birds and the bubbling of the stream, but the sounds seemed somehow muffled, as if they came from another plane. The dark windows of the cottage looked back at her blankly, giving nothing away.
"Right…" the bard said once she had tried the door and found it unlocked. "Let's take a look inside." Her friends all nodded their assent, except for Jan, who was staring at the vegetable patch, his eyes wide with dismay. "Jan? What's wrong?"
"Those…those poor turnips!" the gnome exclaimed, and he sounded quite choked. "All dead, dead, dead and decayed! Oh, that my poor eyes should have to witness this!"
Rini squinted a little, looking at the vegetable patch. She wasn't very knowledgeable about such things, but she trusted Jan's instincts. If he said there were dead turnips under those weeds, he was probably right. "I'm sorry, Jan," she said.
"Minsc is sorry too, to see the little gnome sad, even though he doesn't understand why," Minsc said, and patted Jan encouragingly on the head.
Jan sniffed. "Taken from us in the prime of their life…there must be vengeance for this, and there will be!" He gave Minsc a sly look. "In the meantime, I might be comforted just a little bit if I could hold something soft and fuzzy, like a kindly hamster."
"No! You will only try to steal him again; Boo has warned me against your clever tricks. He stays with me."
"And in the meantime;" Jaheira said, "I think we should all stay together, in case of danger, and not let ourselves get caught up with trifles. Shall we go, then?"
"Yes," Zaerini said. "Let's go. Before Umar catches up with us and eats us all."
The inside of the cottage was mostly dark, due to the small size of the window. The first room seemed to serve as a joint kitchen and dining room, and there was a door beyond it leading into what was probably the bedroom. Rini hastily looked around the room, noticing the ashes scattered on the floor around the fireplace, the table set for one, where a piece of meat and some potatoes were rotting in a puddle of congealed sauce, the few books and papers torn up and strewn across the floor. Of Merella there was no visible sign, but Rini could smell dust, and the rot of the food, and underneath that…
"Blood," she said, not realizing she had said it out loud until the words left her mouth. "In that other room, and there's a lot of it." She bit her lip, fighting to keep control of herself. It wasn't nausea that gripped her, though she wished it had been. Inside, a part of her was howling with glee, delighting in the blood that had been shed here, urging her to rip and to tear and to… NO! I am not a monster, I'm not! The buzzing in her ears wasn't just imaginary, she realized. Flies, a swarm of them, in the next room.
"Hellkitten?" Edwin's voice, beautiful to her ears, calling her back from the brink. The wizard had taken hold of her hand, holding it between his own, rubbing it gently with his thumb. "Is it him again? Your…sire?"
Rini nodded, and then closed her eyes for a moment. "It'll pass…just give me a moment." She let herself be held, relaxing into her lover's arms, slowly feeling the murderous will of Bhaal recede, though it did not depart entirely.
"It's not just blood," she said. "It's murder, violent murder…it stirred him up."
"It is getting worse, is it not?" Jaheira asked, a concerned look in her green eyes. "The taint, I mean. Perhaps you should not go in there."
"I have to. I have to know that I won't…freak out completely. If I avoid it, maybe there'll be some later time when I'm not prepared, and I do lose it." The bard swallowed heavily. "I won't enjoy it, but I have to." But even though she was telling the truth, a small part of her laughed, telling her that she was lying. Part of her would enjoy it.
"Minsc will look after his Witch," Minsc promised, patting her cheek. "If she goes berserk, Minsc and Boo will sing soothing lullabies to calm little Rini down, so don't worry."
"Oh. Thanks, Minsc. I'll try not to. Worry or go berserk, that is."
It was worse than she had expected, however. The inner room was indeed a bedroom, and here the stench of blood was even more intense, thick and cloying. It was a small room, pretty much all that fit in there was the bed, and on the bed…
Oh gods. Oh, this is bad.
The blood had congealed already, its dark brown stains turning the torn blue bed sheets hard and sticky. There were flies crawling in it, and their eager buzzing grew like a thunderstorm in a Zaerini's ears, matching the frenzied beating of her heart. There was blood splattered all over the walls too, making the formerly neat little bedroom look like a slaughterhouse. With that much blood, there should have been a corpse present, something gutted and spread wide open, with glistening organs swelling out of the bloated belly, with milky white eyes and skin sliding off the bones. There was none though. There was only the blood.
"I…fear the ranger Merella is dead," Anomen said in a shaky voice.
Zaerini hardly heard him. She was looking at the bed, and at the blood. There was a teddy bear lying on the bed, its head torn off, and blood twisting its fur into dark spikes.
"So much of it…" Jaheira murmured. "Whatever creature did this, it should have trailed blood all over the floor, and not just in this room. Yet there are no tracks at all, I do not understand it."
Zaerini didn't hear much of that either. The buzzing of the flies grew ever louder, and they seemed almost to be speaking with her, in the droning, dark voice of her sire. She should be horrified at this, she knew. And yet, the part of her that heard the voice of the flies was savoring the slaughter, glorying in it. That part was growing stronger.