pikemen encircling them snapped his head around at the captain’s whispered accusation, then turned back to Sarevok.
“Damn you!” he shouted, lowering his spear and charging forward to impale Sarevok on the point.
Sarevok swung his heavy gauntlet down, his fist a blur as he slapped the weapon from the young man’s grip with such force that it splintered the thick wooden shaft.
The momentum of the onrushing soldier carried him forward, bringing the now weaponless man within range of Sarevok’s other fist, already arcing toward his opponent’s unprotected head. Abdel had visions of Sarevok twisting his arm so that the blade jutting from the forearm of his armor would decapitate his unfortunate attacker.
Instead, Sarevok struck his opponent on the temple with the flat of his palm. The man crumpled beneath the vicious blow, and a shower of teeth flew from his mouth to skitter across the cobblestones of the street. His body twitched once then lay still, a pool of red gushing forth from his mangled mouth and a smaller trickle of blood dribbling from his nose and ear.
Abdel scooped-up his own sword up from the ground, intending only to defend himself. In response to his sudden movement, one of the archers embedded an arrow in Abdel’s chest. The big man screamed as he tore the arrowhead free from his flesh. His wound healed almost instantly, but the memory of the pain lingered. From deep within he felt the angry flames of his father’s blood sparking to life.
Dying enemies, slaughtered soldiers, butchered townsfolka fiery avalanche of violent images buried all reason and conscious thought. He would extract a horrendous toll on the town of Saradush for daring to attack the son of a god!
He took a half step toward the pikemen, still foolishly holding their positions as ordered by their captain. Jaheira placed a hand on his shoulder, and Abdel spun to face her with hate in his eyes.
The sight of Jaheira’s troubled face instantly cooled his passion. Beneath the reassuring touch of his lover, the Bhaal fire burning in Abdel’s belly was quenched.
Glancing to the side he was surprised to see that Sarevok had also managed to rein in his Bhaalspawn temper and stood implacably over the unconscious soldier at his feet.
“Stop this!” Imoen screamed as the archers took aim for another volley. Amazingly, they listened to her plea and held their fire.
The captain glared at Sarevok and Abdel, his eyes smoldering orbs of resentment. He raised his hand, and the archers drew back on their bows but did not fire, awaiting their captain’s signal.
“They’ll kill us all,” Imoen warned, nodding in the direction of Sarevok and then Abdel. The captain’s brow furrowed, and he lowered his hand. In unison, the archers lowered their arrows.
From around the nearest corner a small platoon of soldiers charged into view, their broadswords already drawn. The reinforcements were wearing the uniforms of the Calimshan military. Abdel found this particularly strange, since Saradush was a Tethyrian city.
The captain of the Saradush platoon shook his head in resignation when he noticed the new arrivals.
“Captain,” the leader of the swordsmen called out as the troop took their positions behind the pikemen, “I demand to know what is going on here!”
“Invaders, Garrol. They’re Bhaalspawn.”
Garrol arched an eyebrow. “All of them?”
“Well, no… I don’t think so.”
Jaheira interrupted the conversation. “Some of us are indeed Children of Bhaal, but we mean no harm to you. We are here seeking a woman named Melissan.”
Garrol ignored the druid’s words, and continued to speak directly to the Saradush captain. “This is a matter for General Gromnir. Take your men, and return to your posts on the walls.”
The captain made no reply, but at his signal two of the pikemen dropped their weapons and cautiously approached the body of their fallen comrade. Sarevok stepped back, allowing them to pick up their friend’s
“Damn you!” he shouted, lowering his spear and charging forward to impale Sarevok on the point.
Sarevok swung his heavy gauntlet down, his fist a blur as he slapped the weapon from the young man’s grip with such force that it splintered the thick wooden shaft.
The momentum of the onrushing soldier carried him forward, bringing the now weaponless man within range of Sarevok’s other fist, already arcing toward his opponent’s unprotected head. Abdel had visions of Sarevok twisting his arm so that the blade jutting from the forearm of his armor would decapitate his unfortunate attacker.
Instead, Sarevok struck his opponent on the temple with the flat of his palm. The man crumpled beneath the vicious blow, and a shower of teeth flew from his mouth to skitter across the cobblestones of the street. His body twitched once then lay still, a pool of red gushing forth from his mangled mouth and a smaller trickle of blood dribbling from his nose and ear.
Abdel scooped-up his own sword up from the ground, intending only to defend himself. In response to his sudden movement, one of the archers embedded an arrow in Abdel’s chest. The big man screamed as he tore the arrowhead free from his flesh. His wound healed almost instantly, but the memory of the pain lingered. From deep within he felt the angry flames of his father’s blood sparking to life.
Dying enemies, slaughtered soldiers, butchered townsfolka fiery avalanche of violent images buried all reason and conscious thought. He would extract a horrendous toll on the town of Saradush for daring to attack the son of a god!
He took a half step toward the pikemen, still foolishly holding their positions as ordered by their captain. Jaheira placed a hand on his shoulder, and Abdel spun to face her with hate in his eyes.
The sight of Jaheira’s troubled face instantly cooled his passion. Beneath the reassuring touch of his lover, the Bhaal fire burning in Abdel’s belly was quenched.
Glancing to the side he was surprised to see that Sarevok had also managed to rein in his Bhaalspawn temper and stood implacably over the unconscious soldier at his feet.
“Stop this!” Imoen screamed as the archers took aim for another volley. Amazingly, they listened to her plea and held their fire.
The captain glared at Sarevok and Abdel, his eyes smoldering orbs of resentment. He raised his hand, and the archers drew back on their bows but did not fire, awaiting their captain’s signal.
“They’ll kill us all,” Imoen warned, nodding in the direction of Sarevok and then Abdel. The captain’s brow furrowed, and he lowered his hand. In unison, the archers lowered their arrows.
From around the nearest corner a small platoon of soldiers charged into view, their broadswords already drawn. The reinforcements were wearing the uniforms of the Calimshan military. Abdel found this particularly strange, since Saradush was a Tethyrian city.
The captain of the Saradush platoon shook his head in resignation when he noticed the new arrivals.
“Captain,” the leader of the swordsmen called out as the troop took their positions behind the pikemen, “I demand to know what is going on here!”
“Invaders, Garrol. They’re Bhaalspawn.”
Garrol arched an eyebrow. “All of them?”
“Well, no… I don’t think so.”
Jaheira interrupted the conversation. “Some of us are indeed Children of Bhaal, but we mean no harm to you. We are here seeking a woman named Melissan.”
Garrol ignored the druid’s words, and continued to speak directly to the Saradush captain. “This is a matter for General Gromnir. Take your men, and return to your posts on the walls.”
The captain made no reply, but at his signal two of the pikemen dropped their weapons and cautiously approached the body of their fallen comrade. Sarevok stepped back, allowing them to pick up their friend’s
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