HISTORY OF THE FATEFUL COIN

   C H A P T E R   1   

A warm summer breeze blew through the cool morning air, carrying with it the salty scent of the Sea of Swords, whose waves crashed upon the rocky shoreline far beneath the volcanic crag Candlekeep was perched upon. The keep was still and quiet this early in the day, but two of its residents were already awake and engaged in a rather heated sparring session.

The morning sun glistened off Jaycen’s blond hair and the muscles of his chiseled physique rippled as he gracefully swung his sword in a grand, sweeping arc to deflect the swipe of his tutor’s blade.

"Oh, come now, Jondalar," he taunted. "I thought you to be more creative than that. I could see that one coming from a mile away!"

The veteran warrior thrust out his blade to take another swipe at his student’s midsection, but was casually swatted aside by the youth’s sword.

With a disinterested sigh Jaycen added, "A waste of my talent. Surely, there must be better challenges for me than this."

"Careful now, lad," the venerable swordsman scolded. "Don’t let that youthful arrogance of yours distract you from your opponent. You must always be wary of your foe, wherever he may be."

Once again, Jaycen thought, Jondalar was doing a magnificent job of stating the blatantly obvious. Perhaps it’s about time he considered retiring to the life of a scribe. He certainly fought about as good as one. "It’s not arrogance when it’s justified," he laughed. "Besides, don’t think for a second that I’m giving you any less than my full attention. Not that I really need to, of course."

With a sly grin, Jondalar lunged in with another attack, which was again deflected. But that didn’t matter. In just a moment this cocky lad would quickly get the point of his lesson, both figuratively and literally. "For once you are correct, young one," Jondalar mocked. "Indeed, you really shouldn’t be giving me your full attention. And that is why you’ve just lost the battle."

A loud snap rang out from behind Jaycen, and a moment later a sharp pain shot through his left buttocks. With a rather unmasculine yelp, the brash youth collapsed unceremoniously to the ground and grabbed his rump. Still unsure of what just transpired, he stumbled back to his feet and look up to meet the gaze of Aaron, one of Candlekeep’s finest archers.

"Good thing for you Aaron was using blunt arrows," Jondalar laughed, "or it’d be more than just your ego that got cut down."

Fire raged in Jaycen’s eyes as he shot an annoyed glare back at his tutor. "That was a dirty trick, Jondalar, and you know it!"

"A dirty trick?" Oh, his naivete was so amusing. "In a real-life battle, son, there are no ‘dirty tricks.’ Your opponents are going to resort to whatever means they can to take you out."

"A true paladin like myself would never resort to those unscrupulous tactics," Jaycen retorted. "Only the lowest brigands and scallywags would ever fight with such cowardly dishonor."

Jondalar couldn't help but laugh out. "Yes, Jaycen, but as a paladin you’re probably not going to be fighting your own kind very often. You may not choose to fight like those ‘brigands and scallywags’ but you better understand and be ready for their tactics, as they will be your foes."

Wise as they were, Jondalar’s words seemed to be falling upon deaf ears, as Jaycen appeared to be focusing more on the simple fact that he had been beaten, rather than taking the time to understand why. "I had you licked, hands down!"

"And what good does it do you to overwhelm your current foe when you get blindsided by your next? You need to step back and take in the big picture rather than focusing only on what’s right before your nose."

"Save your speeches for the classroom, Jondalar," Jaycen huffed as he threw up his hand to silence the man. He was about to launch into a speech of his own when he noticed Gorion running up the dirt path and waving his arms to get his attention. The old sage seemed rather frantic, which was very uncharacteristic of him, and he immediately knew that something was very wrong. Tossing the blunt saber back to his tutor, Jaycen abandoned his lesson and ran over to meet his foster father.

"Oh, my child, I am glad I have found you," Gorion puffed. "This is very sudden, I know, but you must trust me. You must pack your possessions so that we may leave Candlekeep immediately. Hurry, for there is no time to tarry! We are in great danger!"

This rather sudden demand took Jaycen back a bit. "In danger? But, what could possibly harm us here? This place is a fortress and guarded beyond measure."

"Candlekeep is indeed a formidable obstacle for ne’er-do-wells," Gorion replied, "but it is not insurmountable. No matter how thick the mesh, at least one mosquito always finds it's way though. As is the case now. No my child, we must leave as soon as possible, for our safety...and for that of our friends here."

While he still couldn’t understand what Gorion was so paranoid about, the look in his eyes told Jaycen that his foster father was very serious about this. Still, he had to inquire a little further to try to quench his own curiosity. "Well...could you at least tell me where will we be going?"

"Alas, I cannot, for I have not truly decided yet. All that is certain is that we will be far safer on the move. Perhaps the Cloakwood Forest might offer some secluded security, or perhaps the city of Baldur's Gate would offer cover amidst its teaming throngs of people. I do not know where we shall end up, but I have a few friends here and there. Hmm...I will think on this..."

This troubled Jaycen even more. Gorion was never one to act impulsively, and he always had a well thought out plan. He tried to probe a little further. "What should I bring with me on this journey? If you would just give me some clue as to what I will need..."

"The time has come for you to put your skills and training to use," Gorion replied. He handed Jaycen a small, brown bag loosely tied shut with a leather drawstring. Jaycen’s eyes widened as he undid the string and peered inside--there was at least a hundred gold coins in there, maybe even two hundred. He had never seen so much money at one time.

"Go to the inn and speak with Winthrop," Gorion continued. "Purchase the best armor you can afford. And buy a sword and a bow." Jaycen looked at Gorion with surprise at his instruction to purchase weapons. Seeing his reaction Gorion added, "I do not condone the use of violence...but sometimes we have little choice. Now go, we have no time to waste. I will meet you on the steps of the Great Library. There are some other matters that I must take care of before we leave." And without giving a second’s pause, Gorion rushed off as fast as he came, leaving Jaycen standing dazed and confused with a bag of coins in his hand and a thousand questions running through his mind.

Candlekeep was not a very easy place to get into. Aside from being located high atop a volcanic crag in a rather isolated part of the Sword Coast, the very rules for gaining entry were quite draconian. To be admitted to the keep, a visitor must gift the Great Library with a book, tome, or other written work of considerable value. The monks of the keep were very strict about their admission policy, and as such it was rare to see any more than two or three visitors in the keep on any given day. Nonetheless, the keep did have a rather modest inn that also doubled as a general store. It was a quaint little two-story dwelling, sparse of excessive decoration but still full of character. The wooden furniture was of simple construction yet provided the traveler a comfortable place to sit down and relax with a mug of ale and one of the library’s many tomes. The innkeeper, Winthrop, was much like the inn--plain, simple, and charming in an odd sort of way. He was also one of the few residents of the keep that Jaycen could tolerate for more than a few minutes. He was a portly man in his mid forties with a slightly balding head and a scruff of stubble lining his chin.

Upon seeing Jaycen enter the inn, Winthrop perked up and waved him over to the bar. "Well hello there young one," the innkeeper boomed. "Come to visit your old pal Winthrop, have ye? Well, don’t forget the 5,000 gold piece book entrance fee, as per Candlekeep custom don’t ya know."

Striding confidently up to the bar, Jaycen shook his head and chuckled. "Winthrop, you big kidder, that gets funnier very nearly every time I hear it." With a sarcastic smile he added, "Well, perhaps not quite so often."

Winthrop let out a big belly laugh at Jaycen’s mocking sarcasm. "Har! Just having a bit o’ fun with ye, my friend." He motioned behind Jaycen at two of the keep’s green robed monks who were standing in the corner, engaged in a rather serious conversation. Lowering his voice he added, "Them monks may be walking about with poles in their nethers, but you know you're always welcome here in my sight."

Jaycen glanced over his shoulder at the monks who briefly shot him a rather annoyed glance then returned to their conversation. Winthrop just smiled and shook his head at them. "Gorion did well by you, he did. So, is there anything I can do for ya?"

"Actually, there is." Jaycen dropped the bag of coins Gorion gave him on the table. "Gorion and I will be leaving Candlekeep for awhile and I’ll need some supplies for our journey."

A rather excited look crept across the old innkeeper’s face as he eyed the coins eagerly. "Well now, I think I can get you what you need." He took Jaycen in to the back storeroom where several suits of armor and an assortment of weapons decorated the wall.

Jaycen carefully surveyed the equipment as Winthrop continued to banter. "So you’re leaving Candlekeep, eh? Where you headed to?"

Jaycen picked up a finely crafted broad sword and swung it a few times, testing its weight. "I’m not sure, actually. Gorion seems to be in a hurry to get out of here, though. I think he might be in some sort of trouble."

"Gorion in trouble? Har! That’s unlikely! When that old sage isn’t spending time with you he’s either locked in his room in the citadel or playing politics with Ulrant, Tethtoril, and the other high-exalted-muckity-mucks around here. More than likely the old fart just has a case of wanderlust."

Placing the sword back down, Jaycen moved to one of the other racks to pick up a slender composite long bow and examined it carefully. "I don’t know, Winthrop, he seemed pretty certain that we were in danger. I’ve never seen Gorion so paranoid. Still, I can’t see why anyone would want to cause him any harm. And I doubt that I’m in any kind of trouble. I’ve never even left this keep since Gorion brought me here as an infant. I can’t see how I would have offended anyone. Unless someone is trying to take me out to get back at Gorion. But, like you said, Gorion never really associates with anyone outside of the Elders. Maybe it’s some old enemy of his from many years ago. He was quite an adventurer in his day."

He picked up the broad sword again and gave it a good, hard swing. "Well, it matters not. I’ll be ready for whatever comes." After giving one final glance at the collection of weapons and armor he made his decision. "Okay, how much for this sword, that bow, and...uh...that suit of chainmail armor?"

As Winthrop made a few quick mental calculations and tapped his fingers counting Jaycen could almost hear the wheels squeaking inside the old innkeeper’s head. "Well, considering your circumstances and considering that you’re a pretty good kid...most of the time," he shot Jaycen a quick, sarcastic grin, "I’ll give it to you for the bargain price of two-hundred and fifty coins."

Jaycen counted out the coins Gorion gave him and, much to his dismay, discovered that he came up 20 coins short. He looked up hopefully at Winthrop, but the innkeeper gave him a look like he just swallowed some sour grapes. "Err, I’d like to help ya out there, kid. But two-fifty is as low as I can go. Not that I don’t like ya or anything, but...you know...I’ve got a business to run here."

"Don’t worry, Winthrop," Jaycen laughed. "I’m sure I’ll be able to scrounge up a few more coins some how. After all, we do have a few new visitors to the keep today."

There was almost always one or two people staying at the Candlekeep Inn, usually traveling scholars, clergymen, wizards, or even the occasional vacationing nobleman. Over the years Jaycen noticed that most of Candlekeep’s guests fell into two categories: incredibly wealthy or incredibly lazy. In either case, running errands for visitors proved an excellent way to earn a few gold pieces. He returned to the inn’s sitting room and made a quick survey of the guests. Within seconds his eyes fixed on a familiar face, an old wizard by the name of Firebead Elvenhair.

Firebead Elvenhair was an accomplished wizard who visited the keep at least twice a year. When Jaycen was younger Firebead used to entertain he and the other children for hours with simple cantrips and spells. Jaycen wasn’t sure of Firebead's exact age, but one thing was certain--he was really, really old. The wizard’s gray beard flowed down his chest like a waterfall and nearly reached his waste. He was thin and frail, but he still beamed with life and vitality. Jaycen found it quite odd that he could seem so fragile and robust at the same time. He walked over to greet his old friend.

"Firebead! Welcome back to Candlekeep."

It seemed to take Firebead a few seconds to place Jaycen’s face with his name, but the memory soon came back to him. "Ah yes, it’s good to see you too, Jaycen. My, you’ve certainly come into your own, if you would permit an old man jealous of youth to say so. And it is good to be back within the hallowed halls of Candlekeep. With this iron crisis upon us, the trip from Beregost was more hazardous than I care to relate."

Firebead’s last sentence caught Jaycen’s interest. "Iron crisis?"

"Yes, the iron crisis. You mean you haven’t heard?" Jaycen shook his head and Firebead continued. "It appears that iron, at least good quality iron, is a bit of a rarity in the Sword Coast these days. All across the Coast--from Baldur’s Gate to Nashkel--iron tools and weapons seem to be breaking and falling apart with little more than normal use."

From where he was standing behind the bar Winthrop shouted out, "Bah! Won’t see that happenin’ with any o’ my goods! Winthrop sells nothing but the best!"

Firebead ignored him and continued. "To make matters worse, bandit raids are on the rise. They’ve been hitting trading caravans coming from the north and east. With all the iron in the Sword Coast region deteriorating, and all the new iron on the trading caravans getting ransacked by bandits, the situation is becoming rather critical. Traveling the open roads nowadays is quite dangerous. Cutthroats and marauders are attacking even simple travelers in the hopes of finding some good iron. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Candlekeep is affected." He glanced over at Winthrop and added, "Even if your goods are not affect now, you’ll eventually sell out. And without a new trading caravan to replenish your supplies...well, no iron is even worse than bad iron." Firebead turned his attention back to Jaycen. "But enough of these problems. How are you doing, Jaycen?"

Jaycen explained Gorion’s strange demand to hastily depart Candlekeep to Firebead, who nodded slowly with each word. He also hinted at the fact that he was looking for more money to purchase some equipment. A smile crept over Firebead’s face. "Well, I’ve left one of my scrolls with Tethtoril. He should be done examining it by now, so if you could fetch it for me I’d be grateful. Last I saw him he was wandering around the Priests’ Quarters." It was a trivial task and Jaycen wasn’t the type to take handouts, but given the circumstances he figured he would make an exception and accepted Firebead’s simple fetch-and-carry assignment.

Tethtoril was one of Candlekeep’s elders or "Great Readers" as they were called. He was a kind, gentle man, always polite and in pleasant spirits. He carried a bit of a regal air about him, even though his position was not one of nobility. He was also incredibly absent-minded. Tethtoril was known to wander the keep for hours at a time, completely lost in thought, and paying absolutely no attention to the outside world. Often times the only way to find him was to simply stumble into him. But, since Firebead said he had seen him at the Priests’ Quarters, Jaycen figured that would be as good a place as any to start looking.

Since he was friends with many of the priests, Jaycen let himself in to their small, wooden abode and began looking around for any signs of Tethtoril. He glanced into one of the side rooms and caught a man rummaging through a chest. Upon hearing Jaycen’s approach the man spun around and glanced up at him with a nervous look. His expression soon faded away to one of relief as he looked him over and seemed to come to some sort of revelation. The man was dressed in rather poor quality clothing and he looked like he hadn’t bathed in some while. His greasy, black hair was unkempt and a light layer of dirt caked his face and hands. Jaycen wondered how he was able to get into the keep--he wasn’t one of the local residents and he didn’t look like he could afford to donate any tome of great worth to gain entrance.

The man gave a sly, gap-toothed smile as he spoke with a lazy slur. "Oh goodie, goodie! I’ve gone and found ye first. You’re Gorion’s little whelp aren’t ya?"

Slightly annoyed, Jaycen replied, "I’m his child if that’s what you mean."

"Foster child," the man shot back as he waged his grimy finger. "Gotta keep it straight. He raised you as his own but you’re not of his blood."

With a bit of apprehension Jaycen inquired further. "Yes, that’s right. I am not his true son. Is there something I can do for you?"

The man began slowly advancing forward and Jaycen was suddenly struck with the overwhelming feeling that he was in great danger. A slight tingling sensation began to well up in the back of his skull and for a brief moment he could almost feel a sensation of evil radiating from the man like an aura. Paladins have the innate ability to sense evil intentions in others, much like a sixth sense. At first Jaycen was overjoyed that he had suddenly acquired this ability, especially since he hadn’t even been formally ordained as a paladin yet. But then he realized what it meant--he was in great danger!

"Oh, our encounter shall be quite simple for you," the man continued, chuckling lightly. "Plainly put, I have made it my mission to end your life." He reached into his soiled tunic and drew forth a long, slightly rusty dagger with a rather wicked looking serrated blade. "Success will mean a little respect among my peers. So, you see, you can do very little...except die!"

With that the man lunged forward, his blade aimed straight at Jaycen’s heart. Acting on pure instinct, Jaycen dropped to his knees and rolled to the side as the man flew over him and crashed into an armoire against the wall. The assassin was off balance and it gave Jaycen enough time to spring to his feet and grab an oak staff that was resting against the wall near the doorway. The assassin made another attack, this time waving the blade wildly in front of him.

"I’ll crush your face, I will! Make you dead and done!"

The knowledge from his years of combat training sprung into Jaycen’s mind. He deftly swatted each of the assassin’s attacks aside with his quarterstaff. The man continued to thrust his dagger forward, but Jaycen was able to parry and dodge each of his attacks with ease. He focused his mind and relaxed. The moves came easily, almost instinctually. The assassin put a little too much force into one of his thrusts and fell forward. Jaycen seized the opportunity and swung the staff around to bat the dagger out of the assassin’s hand. Following through with a second attack, he swung the other end of the staff in a great arc and smacked the assassin across the temple. The man dropped to one knee, temporarily dazed by the strike. Then, with all his might, Jaycen brought the staff crashing down across the back of the man’s neck. The force of the impact was so great that the staff snapped in two as the assassin fell limp and dropped to the floor with a muffled grunt.

The man no longer posed a threat, but Jaycen found himself compelled to continue the attack. He knew that attacking an unarmed and defenseless foe went against everything he had been taught. It flew in the face of every moral and ethic he held, yet the urge was so overwhelming he found himself nearly unable (or was it unwilling?) to resist. It was almost as if he was in a trance, as if something else was controlling his actions. He could have sworn that he could hear a voice inside his head--guiding him, instructing him. "Finish him! Finish him off now!"

Jaycen suddenly snapped back into reality as another voice from behind him called his name. This one was real. "Jaycen! By the gods, lad, what are you doing?!" It was Karin, one of his tutors. The man stared down at the assassin, then at the broken half of the quarterstaff still in Jaycen’s hand, with a look of shock in his eyes.

"Karin," Jaycen gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the fight. "That man...he...he tried to kill me! He attacked me with a dagger. I had to defend myself."

Karin bent down and felt the man’s neck for a pulse. "He’s still alive," he pronounced. "I shall summon the guards. I was afraid something like this might happen."

Afraid something like this might happen? What did that mean? Something told Jaycen that Karin knew more about this attack than he was letting on. "What are you talking about, Karin? Did you know something about this?"

Karin looked like he was about to answer, then stopped. Sadness crept into his eyes when he spoke again. "Oh, Jaycen. I have been your tutor for so many years...and only in this moment have I come to doubt that my training has been enough. Go to Gorion, child. It is safe for you here no longer. I wish I could say more, but...I cannot."

"Cannot, or will not?" Jaycen asked.

This question seemed to amplify the sadness in the monk’s eyes. "Go to Gorion, Jaycen. He will explain everything. I...I am sorry." Karin quickly turned away and left the room before Jaycen could ask him any more questions that he knew he could not answer.

As he walked out of the Priests’ Quarters, Jaycen stopped by the side of building to reflect upon his actions during the fight. He was confident that his martial skills would be sufficient to handle whatever came in his coming journey. That much was certain. But he was greatly disturbed by his desire to kill the assassin. Perhaps it was a case of bloodlust from his first real fight, or perhaps it was a subconscious reflex brought on from his years of combat training. He had never felt a desire to kill his opponent during his sparing sessions or when he was training with the keep’s militia. Of course, those battles weren’t real and his life wasn’t actually in jeopardy--the people he sparred with were his friends, not someone who wanted to take his life. Eventually, he rationalized that his actions were probably being influenced by the fear of being killed by the assassin. Surely that must have been it. But in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t true. Something else was driving his actions during the fight. Part of him actually wanted to kill the man. It was a darker side of himself that he had never seen before, and he prayed he would never see again.

As he walked away from the Priests’ Quarters Jaycen noticed a red-robed figure walking along the dirt path. It was Tethtoril. The old sage was staring at the ground and mumbling to himself, lost in thought as usual. With all the excitement, he had almost forgot that he had been looking for him. He had to call out the old sage’s name a few times before he finally caught his attention. Tethtoril looked up from his ponderings, gave him a friendly wave, and slowly ambled over to him.

"Greetings young one. I understand that you’ve been looking for me. Firebead has sent you to me, hasn’t he?" He reached into the folds of his robe and produced a small scroll of parchment with a thin silk ribbon tied around it. Handing the scroll to Jaycen he added, "I’m sure it was to get his scroll back. Take this back to Firebead, then you should go to the Great Library and meet your father. Gorion has been looking for you for some time. He claims he has a matter of great importance to discuss with you."

A group of guards rushed into the Priests’ Quarters behind Tethtoril as he spoke to Jaycen. A few moments later they emerged with the assassin, who was now conscious again and struggling with them as they dragged him down the dirt path.

Completely oblivious to the events happening behind him, Tethtoril chuckled lightly and added, "You know how Gorion is, though. Everything is a matter of great importance to him. I’m sure it’s nothing."

Still chuckling, Tethtoril turned around and began to wander back the way he came. Within a few moments he was looking down at the ground and mumbling to himself again. He passed by the guards and the assassin, who was now screaming "The child must die! The prophecy shall be fulfilled!" He passed right by the screaming assassin and didn’t even seem to take notice.

One of the guards walked up next to Jaycen and shook his head. "What a weirdo." Jaycen wasn’t sure if he was talking about the assassin or Tethtoril.

The attack had left him slightly bewildered and more than a bit concerned, but Jaycen had little time to dwell on such matters. He returned to the Candlekeep Inn and presented the scroll to Firebead.

"I’m glad to see that age has not hardened your heart towards an old man such as myself," Firebead replied. "And now, for your payment." He reached into his robe and handed Jaycen a small purse filled with a large number of gold coins. Jaycen wasn’t sure exactly how many there were, but he was certain it would be enough to pay Winthrop for all the gear he needed. And after the failed assassination attempt, he was more certain than ever that he would need the best armor and weapons he could afford. Gorion’s fears seemed to be justified. The attempt on his life may have been laughable, but something told him there would be more threats to come.

Having gathered enough gold to purchase the gear that he needed, Jaycen quickly but politely thanked Firebead and turned to leave. But before he could take a single step the old wizard held up his hand to stop him. "Before you go, allow me to cast a little spell on you. It will protect you from any evil you might encounter tonight." Without waiting for him to respond either way, Firebead began waving his hands in front of him and chanting an incantation. A warm glow enveloped Jaycen’s body for a brief moment, then faded away.

Although Jaycen was thankful to have a little friendly magic on his side, he was concerned by Firebead’s last comment--that the spell would protect him from any "evil" he might encounter that night. He knew Firebead was a bit of a sage; was he trying to warn him of something? He tried to inquire about Firebead meaning, but the old man just smiled and replied, "Go to Gorion and listen well. For without knowledge, life is a mere shadow of death."

Jaycen purchased the gear he needed from Winthrop and bid him farewell. The innkeeper gave him a firm handshake and a hearty slap on the back. "I’ll be missing you, lad. If your journeys ever bring you back this way, know that ol’ Winthrop will have a cold mug of ale and a warm bed waiting for ye!" Jaycen left the inn, pausing for a moment to take one last look at it, then continued on his way to the Great Library where Gorion was waiting for him.

A thousand questions raced though his mind as he walked along the cobblestone path through the keep’s gardens and toward the Great Library. He nervously fiddled with the straps on his armor as he walked along, loosening them, then tightening them, and then loosening them again. Why would anyone want him dead? Were they out to get him specifically, or were they just trying to get back at Gorion? Both possibilities seemed completely implausible. And why in the Nine Hells did everybody but he seem to know what was going on around here?

As he walked on in quiet contemplation his senses suddenly sprang to attention when he heard the sound of a twig snap behind him. He continued on without breaking stride, but strained his ears to listen. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he heard it: a footstep. It was soft, but unmistakable. Someone was sneaking up behind him. He continued on, trying not to let this new assassin know that he was on to him. He tightened his grip on his sword, but still tried to act casual, as if he was unaware of the stalker.

He strained to listen. He could hear the footsteps, then the breathing. Adrenaline surged through his veins but he fought to contain himself. He waited, letting the assailant get closer...closer...not yet...not yet.... NOW! He swung his sword around with a mighty battle cry and all the rage of Tempus, and came within inches of taking off the head of his childhood friend, Imoen.

The young girl screamed in terror as she leapt out of the way of his mighty blade and fell to the ground, quivering with fright. "Wait! It’s just me!"

Jaycen had known Imoen for most of his childhood years. She was a sprightly young lass with a slender figure, smooth white skin, and a shock of bright red hair that always seemed to be immaculately groomed. Like Jaycen, she was also an orphan and had come to Candlekeep much as he did. But while Jaycen was brought to the keep as an infant, Imoen was nearly ten years old when she first stepped foot in Candlekeep’s austere walls. Although Gorion was technically Imoen’s guardian too, she spent much more time with the gruff Winthrop. "Puffguts" she would call him, much to the old innkeeper’s dismay.

While the two were nearly the same age, Imoen never seemed to loose her childhood innocence or her mischievous spirit. Vague concepts like honor and ethics never really interested her; her sole concern was the pursuit of a good time. As long as she was having fun, and no one else was getting hurt in the process, Imoen was content. She especially enjoyed playing practical jokes on others, like filching coins from the pockets of the unsuspecting monks or trying to sneak up behind Jaycen and scare him.

Sheathing his sword he shot a harsh glare down at the young girl, who was still trembling with fear on the cobblestone path. "How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?!"

Imoen looked up at him with a pair of innocent, baby blue eyes. "I was just playin’ with ya’," she whispered. She gave him a look like a sad puppy dog. Jaycen knew that look and he hated it when she did that. It made him feel like he was the worst person in the world for yelling at her, even though it was obviously her fault.

"Stop looking at me like that," he grumbled as he walked off.

Realizing that she had beaten him once again, Imoen jumped to her feet and skipped off after him giggling.

"So what’cha up to today?" she asked as she skipped along side him. Jaycen quickened his pace but she somehow managed to keep up. "Hey, you’ve got armor and a sword! Looks like your gonna go off and fight a dragon or something. Is that what your gonna do? Huh, Jaycen? Ya gonna fight a dragon?"

Hoping he could instill his sense of urgency on her, Jaycen gave her a harsh glare. "I’m afraid I can’t chat today, little one. Gorion wishes me to prepare for a great journey, but he will not say where we are destined."

"Little one?!" Imoen stopped and put her hands on her hips, cocked her head to one side, and shot a rather annoyed look back at him. "Hey, I’m not much younger than you." Seeing that Jaycen wasn’t stopping, she hurried off to catch up with him. "Though you sure got tall real fast," she continued. "Well, relatively anyway. I guess you wouldn’t be tall compared to an ogre. Or a giant. Or a titan. Titans are really, really tall, ya know."

Jaycen’s silence didn’t seem to deter Imoen’s incessant chattering. "So, you’re going on a great journey, huh? Boy, I never get to travel. I sure wish I could go with ya." He walked on in silence, hoping she’d get the message. "Yep, I really do." She was either extremely persistent or totally oblivious. "Yessir, really wish I could." Probably a little of both.

Finally having enough of her childish antics, he stopped and shot her as harsh a look as he could muster. "No, Imoen you can’t go with us. It’s far too dangerous and you’d only slow us down."

Imoen stopped in her tracks and gave him that sad-puppy-dog-eyes look again. "Well...well fine then. I’ll just go have my own adventure. And you’re not invited!" She stuck her tongue out at him to emphasize her point. "It just sounded like your adventure was gonna be kind of fun. Especially with what that letter on Gorion’s desk said...uh...I mean..." Imoen immediately knew she had revealed a little more information than she should have.

"What letter?" Jaycen asked.

"Letter? Did I say letter?" Imoen looked around nervously, refusing to make eye contact with him. "Uh...I never saw no letter. Nope. No letter at all. I never snuck into Gorion’s room and looked at...um...I mean...um...I...think I better get going now. BYE!" And before Jaycen could inquire any further she ran off into the garden.

Just as well, he thought. He always suspected that Imoen was a little light-fingered, but now she actually admitted to breaking to Gorion’s room and going through his belongings. A future paladin shouldn’t be keeping the company of a rogue like her.

Continuing on his way, Jaycen finally reached the steps of the Great Library. Gorion was there, along with the senior elder, Ulrant. The two seemed to be engaged in a rather heated discussion; Jaycen could hear them shouting at each other as he approached. He was only able to pick up the last part of their conversation, but it was enough.

"That is completely out of the question, Gorion!" Ulrant shouted. "To anoint that boy as a paladin would defile all that their order stands for!"

Defile? Did he just say "defile"? Jaycen was in shock. He could understand not being anointed as a paladin if his skills weren’t up to par, or if Ulrant had some reason to doubt his ethics and morals. Sure, he could be a little overconfident at times; some might even go so far as to call him arrogant. But to say he would defile the entire Paladinic Order? That was a little extreme, even for Ulrant.

Gorion seemed absolutely irate with the situation and it was the closest Jaycen had ever seen him come to completely loosing his temper. "First off, he’s not a boy, he’s nearly twenty one years old. And secondly, you have no right to question Jaycen’s integrity. He has proven his moral worth, as well as his physical skills and prowess, on numerous occasions. Which is more than I can say for you, you old buzzard." Jaycen’s chest swelled with pride as Gorion continued. "Jaycen is a shining example of all the traits a paladin exemplifies, and his swordsmanship is nothing short of exceptional."

The two suddenly noticed Jaycen standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at them. "Enough of this foolishness," Gorion muttered. He rushed down the stairs, grabbed Jaycen by the arm and whisked him away with him. "Come, Jaycen. We have more important concerns to deal with."

Ulrant shouted after them. "Gorion! Do not defy the will of the council! I’m warning you, Gorion! If you and that boy leave you will be on your own and will no longer be considered residents of this keep!"

Gorion and Jaycen rushed through the keep’s courtyard toward the front gate. As they reached the keep’s drawbridge Gorion stopped and looked at Jaycen with a compassionate smile. "Jaycen, we have had our disagreements in the past. Especially concerning your choice of training. My adamancy has nearly torn us apart. And for that I am so truly sorry. There is so much about my motives that you just don’t understand...but I still should have had more faith in you." Jaycen started to speak but Gorion held up his hand. "I just want you to know that I am so very, very proud of you. And of what you have become."

Jaycen was speechless. It seemed that the great rift that had formed between he and Gorion had suddenly closed. He had never felt so close to him as he did now. He wanted to tell him how he felt, but he simply couldn’t put the feeling into words.

"Do you know the Oath of Ennoblement?" Gorion asked. Of course he knew it! The Oath of Ennoblement, the oath every paladin took before he was anointed, was what he had based his life upon. He recited it from memory to Gorion, not realizing what was happening. Gorion placed his hand upon Jaycen’s head and proclaimed, "In the righteous name of Helm, god of watchers and guardians, I now anoint you...Jaycen the Paladin."

Jaycen gasped. "Father, can you do this? I thought the council forbade you from anointing me."

Gorion smiled. "My authority comes from a Higher Power."

Gorion’s mood suddenly became serious again. "Now, listen carefully. The journey we are about to take will be extremely difficult. If we ever become separated, it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There you will find two warriors named Khalid and Jaheira. They have long been my friends and you can trust them." He looked Jaycen straight in the eyes as he slowly spoke his next instruction. "Trust...no one...else." Jaycen swallowed hard as Gorion motioned for them to continue on.

The two passed through the gates of the keep, following the narrow trail that led down the volcanic crag, and headed out into the woods beyond. Gorion quickly led Jaycen away from Candlekeep and deep into the forests to the east.

Considering his age, Jaycen was amazed that Gorion was able to keep the pace he did. Of course, Gorion was wearing little more than a loose robe while he was weighed down with a full suit of chainmail armor. Gorion was rather hearty for someone of his age, but he still hoped that they didn't meet with any conflict during their journey. He seriously doubted whether the old sage could hold his ground in a fight, especially since he was lacking any protection except for a simple walking staff.

As the Sea of Swords disappeared behind them the light of day slowed faded into the inky blackness of night. The branches of the trees overhead blocked out the stars and moonlight and soon they were completely cloaked in darkness. The moon would occasionally peek through a break in the tree cover, casting eerie reflections and shadows over the ground that played tricks with Jaycen’s eyes. Several times he thought he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look the phantom specter faded into the blackness of the night. At first he thought he was just paranoid, but he soon realized that Gorion was getting nervous as well.

A drop of moisture landed on his hand, then another splashed across the tip of his nose. Within a few minutes the sky opened up and a heavy rain began falling with the occasional lightning bolt arcing across the sky and flashing through the tree cover to light up the forest for the briefest of moments.

The two hurried on through the cold rain in silence. Jaycen had no idea where Gorion was leading them and he was still uncertain as to why they even had to leave Candlekeep in the first place. His curiosity finally got the best of him and he broke the silence to inquire further about Gorion's motives.

"Father, wouldn’t it be safer if we stuck to the roadways?"

"No, Jaycen," Gorion replied in a quick, hushed tone. "As strange as it may seem, that would actually be the more dangerous course for us to follow."

Looking around uneasily Gorion whispered, "Let’s hurry. The night can only get worse and we must find shelter soon." With a nervous glance he added, "Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything as soon as there is time."

Gorion suddenly froze in his tracks and stared off to his left. Jaycen spun around to try to see what caught his attention, his broadsword at the ready. He tried to follow Gorion’s gaze through the rain but could see nothing except the dark forest at first. Another bolt of lightning shot across the sky high overhead, briefly illuminating their surroundings. Then he saw what Gorion was looking at. Four figures were moving through the trees about twenty yards away. It was obvious that they were trying to conceal their movement but the lightning flash gave them away. Realizing they had been discovered, the four figures began advancing toward them.

The figure who stood out in front, and who was apparently the leader of the group, appeared to be humanoid, although he was much larger than any man Jaycen had ever seen. He was outfitted in ornate platemail armor that was blacker than the night sky and adorned with what appeared to be an unnecessarily large number of metal spikes across the shoulders and down the arms. He wore a helmet that looked to be fashioned out of a demon’s skull and carried a huge two-handed sword that was easily as tall as a normal man.

The armored figure was flanked by two huge creatures at least nine to ten feet tall and dressed in what looked like poorly cured animal furs. As they drew closer Jaycen could see their dark greenish brown skin covered in warty bumps, their long greasy black hair, and the faint purplish glow in their eyes. He was fairly certain that they were ogres, even though he had never seen one before, based on their physical characteristics and by the stench that suddenly filled his nostrils that reminded him of curdled milk.

Behind these three, almost out of sight, was a fourth person. Jaycen could barely make the figure out, but based on its stance and silhouette he surmised that it was female, most likely either a human or elf, carrying a long, slender sword, and wearing light armor at best. The woman seemed to be consciously making good use of the shadows and Jaycen could discern little else about her.

Gorion nervously eyed the four stalkers, then turned to Jaycen and plainly stated, "We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself."

The armored man stepped forward and spoke in a deep, booming voice that nearly caused Jaycen to break and run in fear. His voice was cold and emotionless, and the sound was like tiny daggers of ice piercing into Jaycen’s soul.

"You’re perceptive for an old man. You know why I’m here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist it shall be a waste of your life." A clap of thunder echoed overhead as if to accentuate the giant man’s point.

Gorion defiantly stepped forward and retorted, "You’re a fool if you think I would trust your benevolence. Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt."

Jaycen was greatly impressed by his foster father’s courage, but was seriously hoping that Gorion wasn’t expecting him to do the hurting.

The armored figure shook his head and coldly replied, "I’m sorry that you feel that way, old man." He motioned to the two ogres, who began slowly circling around to either side of Jaycen and Gorion, then drew his sword to the ready.

Raising his own sword, Jaycen jumped in front of his foster father, though he was rather uncertain as to what good he would be able to do. They were outnumbered and, from the looks of it, outmatched as well.

For several tense moments nothing happened, each side carefully weighing the other. Then one of the ogres drew his club and leapt forward to take a swing at Gorion while shouting, "Me will smash your face!" Jaycen started to charge forward to meet the ogre’s attack, but Gorion had other plans. He shoved Jaycen aside, thrust out his hand, and shouted a few syllables in an alien tongue. Jaycen regained his balance just in time to see a bolt of lightning streak out from the tips of Gorion’s fingers and rip through the advancing ogre. With a scream of pain and terror the ogre collapsed to the ground, his body reduced to a smoking and charred lump of lifeless flesh and bone.

Seeing his companion struck down, the other ogre quickly ran forward with his own attack. With a raspy, guttural voice the ogre barked out his battle cry. "Me will crush you! Crush you to goo!"

Again Gorion thrust out his hand, and again he muttered a few arcane words to invoke one of his spells. This time a glowing yellow orb materialized in front of him and with little more than a flick of his finger shot off through the rainy night to strike the ogre square in the chest. Jaycen stared in amazement as the creature turned to stone before his eyes, then shattered into a million pieces a second later.

But Gorion was not the only one with powerful magic at his disposal. From off in the distance, the shadowy woman began invoking a spell of her own. An arrow of pure fire appeared before her and ripped through the air, Jaycen’s heart it's target. There was little time for him to react. All he could do was close his eyes and brace himself for the inevitable. The arrow struck his chest, but dissipated with little more than a light fizzle of magical energy. It took him a few seconds to realize what had just happened, then he remembered the spell Firebead Elvenhair had cast on him earlier that day. "It will protect you from any evil you meet tonight," Firebead had said. Firebead’s magic had saved him from certain death.

Everyone else stared at him in amazement for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. It was Gorion who reacted first. "Run, Jaycen," he shouted. "Get out of here!"

As much as Jaycen wanted to stay with Gorion, the tone of his voice told him the issue wasn't open for debate. The woman began casting another spell but Gorion was able to fire off one of his own first. Five tiny red orbs shot forth from his finger tips and struck the woman. While the spell didn't seem to injure her much, it was enough to break her concentration and cause her own spell to fizzle out before it was completed. Gorion turned back to Jaycen again and yelled, "Run! Now!"

Without a second thought Jaycen darted off into the forest as fast as he could. He had no idea where he was running to, but it really didn’t matter at the moment. He dove behind a bush and cautiously peered out to see which way Gorion was running. Much to his surprise, he discovered that Gorion wasn’t running away at all. He was actually standing his ground and taking on the two remaining assailants.

A column of flames shot forth from Gorion’s hand and struck the shadowy woman as he completed another of his incantations. She cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground, slowly rising to her feet a moment later and staggering back into the darkness of the forest. Gorion turned his attention to the armored man who was now advancing toward him, his sword drawn. Gorion began firing off a barrage of spells at the figure. Bright flashes of magical energy in every imaginable color shot forth and struck the armored figure. The man staggered and was knocked to his knees a few times, but he somehow managed to survive Gorion’s magical assault. Then, there was silence.

Jaycen strained to look at what Gorion was doing. He seemed to be fumbling around in his robe for something while dodging the attacks of the armored figure’s sword. A second later Gorion produced what appeared to be a small dagger. What in the Nine Hells is he doing? He can't possibly expect to take him on with just a dagger. Why doesn't he cast another spell? Or just run?

A sudden, cold chill shot up Jaycen’s spine as the realization of Gorion’s motives hit him. He had no intention of defeating the man. He was trying to buy Jaycen enough time to flee. Even if it meant...

With tears streaming down his face, Jaycen bolted from his hiding place and raced as fast as he could deeper into the forest. He ran on for what seemed like hours. Sweat and tears stung in his eyes. His lungs and legs burned from exhaustion.

He was amazed that Gorion lasted as long as he did, but eventually the inevitable came. A cry of pain echoed in the distance that could only have come from Gorion’s last breath. Jaycen desperately wanted to scream out in anguish, but he knew that doing so would surely reveal his location.

He ran on through the night, not only trying to escape the armored man, but also in a vain and futile attempt to escape the harsh reality behind him. Less than eight hours ago he and Gorion had been closer than they had ever been. And now he was dead. Jaycen’s mind filled with a thousand regrets, a thousand things he wished he had said. But now it was too late. His head began to spin and his legs gave out from underneath him. He fell forward and tumbled down a hill, the world spinning dizzily around him. He rolled off of an embankment, landed in a thick patch of brush and moss, and drifted into unconsciousness.

The armored figure strode through the forest, glancing from side to side for any signs of Jaycen’s passing. The shadowy woman gracefully strode beside him keeping a watchful eye as well. She turned to him and whispered, "Do not worry, my lord. I shall gather more of my assassins and we will find him by dawn."

The armored man stopped and held his hand out in front of him, slowly moving it across the forest. "Do not bother," he replied. "I can no longer sense his presence. We shall deal with Jaycen another day. With Gorion eliminated he will never learn of his significance in this matter and, thus, is no longer a threat to my plans. He will wander aimlessly and will be an easy target for our bounty hunters. You did post the bounty notices as I asked, didn’t you?"

The woman nodded regally. "Yes, my lord."

"Then Jaycen will be eliminated soon enough. Come, we must continue to Candlekeep and retrieve the manuscripts as quickly as possible. I must be certain on this matter before we take any further action. Then we must return to Baldur’s Gate and ensure that all is in order."

"As you would have it, my lord." The shadowy woman gave a quick bow and followed her master into the night.

Copyright (C) 2001-2003 by Ryan Brady.