Fortunately, he never got the chance to speak.

  "Perhaps your large friend merely has learned that there are other solutions besides resorting to violence," a female voice said as a tall, slender figure descended the stairs to the dungeon and emerged from the shadows.

  The woman who spoke was wearing a mesh shirt of fine steel links, and a spiked mace hung from her belt.

  She wore silver gauntlets and knee-high silver boots. Her cloth sleeves and leggings were black. A high, soft collar extended from beneath her armor right up the line of her jaw. Every inch of her skin was covered by either armor or the dark, form fitting cloth except for her face. There her skin was the white of gleaming marble, a striking contrast to her coal black eyes, her deep red lips and the long raven tresses that hung down well past her shoulders.

  "Melissan," Sarevok said by way of greeting.

  The woman nodded in the armored man's direction. "Sarevok. I thought you were dead."

  "I was," Sarevok replied simply. "I should have heeded your warnings. I have been given a second chance."

  Melissan turned her intense gaze in Abdel's direction. "And you can be none other than Abdel Adrian, Gorion's ward."

  "How do you know Abdel?" Jaheira demanded, "how do you know Sarevok?"

  "I knew Sarevok long ago," Melissan answered, though she did not pull her eyes away from Abdel, "before his mad efforts to start a war between Nashkel and Baldur's Gate.

  "As for Abdel," she continued, "his name is well known to any who have taken an interest in the Lord of Murder's children, as is his description. You cannot easily hide yourself in the crowd, Abdel."

  "No," Abdel replied sheepishly. "I stick out like a sore thumb."

  Abdel had doubted Sarevok's promises. He was reluctant to believe his half brother could really bring him to someone who could help him escape the taint of his immortal father. But Melissan's confident, steady gaze both unnerved and excited him. Her black eyes pierced his very soul, and he was certain she could see the evil power that dwelt within him. However, she did not recoil as most others would if they glimpsed the unholy taint of Bhaal he kept caged. Instead, Melissan seemed to acknowledge and accept his monstrous nature—as if she had known it would be there all along.

  "I have been told you can help me," Abdel said, enraptured by Melissan's unflinching eyes. "Sarevok says you can help me to rid myself of Bhaal's unholy taint."

  "Before we delve into my lover's heritage," the druid said pointedly, "shouldn't we think of a way to escape these cells?"

  Jaheira's voice snapped Abdel out of his bewitched state, causing him to blush in embarrassment and cast an apologetic look in Jaheira's direction.

  Melissan nodded. "Of course. I will go fetch the keys from Gromnir."

  "But he's the madman who put us in here in the first place!" Imoen objected.

  "Gromnir is not as mad as he seems," Melissan assured her. "His behavior is bizarre, but he is not insane. Just very, very careful."

  "Paranoid you mean," Imoen snorted, still not convinced.

  "His caution is based on many previous attempts on his life," Melissan explained, "and very rational, given his present circumstances. A Calimshite general ruling over a Tethyrian town has good reason to be cautious."

  "Why is this mad General Gromnir in charge here, anyway?" Jaheira asked, making no attempt to hide the accusatory tone of her voice.

  Melissan sighed, her flawless features taking on a regretful, somber expression. "I thought the general and his troops could help protect Saradush and all the children of Bhaal who had come to this town seeking sanctuary. Gromnir and his men came here at my request."

  Abdel nodded, remembering the way the Saradush soldiers had spat on the ground when he had first mentioned Melissan's name. Suddenly their resentment made perfect sense.

  "At first Gromnir and his men were welcomed here by Count Santele, the ruler of Saradush," Melissan continued.

  "But when word of an approaching army reached the count's ears, he ordered Gromnir's troops and all the Bhaalspawn seeking refuge within the walls of Saradush to leave the city. He thought that if he banished the children of Bhaal he could spare the town."

  "Let me guess," Jaheira chimed in. "Gromnir refused to go, and he and his men took over the town."

  Melissan nodded. "Count Santele was forced to flee for his life. The Saradush militia was unprepared for Gromnir's sudden coup, and before they could organize themselves against the Calimshite forces, the siege had begun.

  "The captains and soldiers of the Saradush militia have had little choice but to accept the rule of Gromnir for the time being. Only by working together can the two armies put up an effective defense against the invaders laying siege to the town.

  "What about reinforcements?" Imoen asked. "Why haven't the king and queen of Tethyr brought troops in to end this siege and get rid of Gromnir in one shot?"

  "Myratma, the capital of Tethyr, is hundreds of miles away," Melissan explained, "and there are hostile forces moving throughout the region. Surely you have heard the rumors of armies devastating towns throughout the Southlands.

  "This war is being fought not only in Saradush. The king and queen must look to the security of their own backyard before they can turn their attention to Saradush."

  "No wonder Gromnir's paranoid," Abdel noted. "I bet people on both sides of this siege would be happy to see him dead."

  "What you say is, to some degree, true," Melissan conceded. "However, most of the citizens of this town have accepted the fact that their only hope to survive this siege is to support Gromnir's dictatorship ... for now."

  The tall woman shook her head in weary disappointment before adding, "I fear that the current situation is not the only reason for Gromnir's behavior. I suspect the curse of being one of Bhaal's offspring has recently taken its toil on the general."

  "That horrible, hairy thing is a Bhaalspawn?" Imoen exclaimed in disbelief.

  "The Lord of Murder's children come in many forms." Melissan arched her eyebrows and gave Imoen the same piercing stare she had earlier fixed on Abdel. "As I am sure you well know, my young lady.

  "It is only because of his immortal blood that Gromnir is here, under siege in Saradush. I would never have brought him and his loyal Calimshan troops to Tethyr if I did not feel he had something personal invested in the fate of the Bhaalspawn."

  Melissan probably would have said more, but the sound of Jaheira clearing her throat cut her words short. Abdel couldn't help but smile at the druid's none-too-subtle reminder.

  "Of course this can wait until you are out of your cages," the tall woman in black assured them. "I am certain General Gromnir will release you all, once I have spoken to him."

  Jaheira disliked the woman. There was something in the way she looked at Abdel, a hunger in her gaze. Jaheira didn't like any woman looking at Abdel like that—no one but herself. She also didn't like the way Abdel seemed to hang on her every word, the way a young child with a crush would focus too intently on a beautiful teacher.

  Much to Jaheira's surprise, Melissan was as good as her word and returned less than five minutes later with a ring of keys.

  "I'm sure there is much more you would like to ask me, Abdel. We can resume our conversation as soon as I have released you." Almost as an afterthought, Melissan added, "And your companions, of course."

  The druid bit her lip to keep from speaking harshly. She knew she was being foolish, feeling threatened by this woman. Abdel loved her. He would even give his life for her.

  But Melissan was undeniably beautiful. She could reveal secrets about Abdel's Bhaal blood that Jaheira could not. The half-elf knew Abdel had fallen for just such a woman before, the vampire Bodhi. Jaheira had forgiven her lover for his transgression. She knew well enough the enchanting magics vampires could wield over the living, and she couldn't believe Abdel would willingly betray her under normal circumstances. Yet she couldn't quell the whispers of doubt, the ones that said Abdel was consumed with the taint of Bhaal and would do anything to rid himself of his father's legacy. Anything.

  Melissan opened Abdel's cell first, then Sarevok's. She had just unlocked the door of Jaheira's cell when the sound of three sharp blasts of a horn echoed off the walls of the dungeon.

  "A breach in the wall!" Melissan exclaimed. "The invaders have broken through. Three blasts means the south wall."

  The woman spun on her heel and ran for the stairs, her long hair fanning out behind her as she raced back toward the dungeon exit. In her rush, she left the key hanging in the still unopened lock of Jaheira's cell.

  "We have to reinforce the men on the wall and seal the breach or Saradush will be overrun!" Melissan called over her shoulder as she leaped up the stairs two steps at a time.

  Jaheira had to admit, reluctantly, that the tall woman moved with amazing speed and grace.

  Sarevok rushed to follow her, and Abdel took a half step before turning to face Jaheira and Imoen.

  "Go," Jaheira urged, moving toward the key dangling from the lock of her cell. "I will open our cells, and Imoen and I will come join the battle in mere moments."

  Abdel must not have heard her, because he raced over to her cell.

  "Go, my love," she said again, "we will be right behind you!" To prove to Abdel he had no need to worry about her safety, Jaheira reached through the bars and put her hand on the key even as Abdel arrived at her cell.

  The big man reached his own hand through the bars and placed his open palm squarely on the center of her chest and shoved. Jaheira stumbled back several steps before tumbling to the ground.

  "Abdel!" she cried out, more shocked than hurt.

  The big man didn't respond, but he grabbed the key in his massive fist. The muscles of his forearm flexed and he snapped the metal key off in the lock, trapping Jaheira in the cage.

  The druid scrambled to her feet and rushed toward him, reaching out with a free hand through the bars as Abdel hopped back just out of her range.

  "Abdel, what are you doing?" she demanded, even as Imoen screamed the same question from the adjacent cage.

  He turned away before she could read the expression in his eyes. "I'm sorry," was all he said before he vanished up the stairs, leaving both Jaheira and Imoen trapped in their respective cells.

  * * * * *

  The horror and betrayal he had seen in Jaheira's eyes twisted like a blade in Abdel's heart. If there had been time he would have explained his actions to her and Imoen. Abdel had been involved in many sieges in his days as a mercenary. He knew all too well the bloody battle that was even now raging atop the battlements of Saradush as the defenders strove to hurl the invaders from their foothold. Abdel knew the only way Jaheira and Imoen would be safe should he lose control of his own murderous fury was if they were nowhere near the violence.

  It took less than a minute for Abdel to find his way from the top of the dungeon stairs to the main gates of the castle. Sarevok and Melissan had already disappeared down the streets of Saradush, rushing to aid the soldiers on the wall. Abdel had no trouble following the shouts and cries of those rushing to join the battle.

  He came around a corner and found himself directly beneath the melee. Glancing up, he saw that dozens of invaders had managed to scale the wall, overwhelming the Saradush and Calimshan troops positioned atop the battlements. With each passing second, more invaders climbed up the ladders to join their fellows and drive the desperate defenders even farther back. Abdel knew reinforcements for his side would be unlikely, as the men along the other walls would be desperately defending their own positions against a similar rush of ladder carrying attackers.

  There had been no more alarms raised, so it seemed as if the only breach was on the south wall. If the Saradush forces could reclaim the battlement, the advance could be halted—for now.

  Abdel rushed along the base of the wall, heading for the open door at the foot of the nearest tower, one of many lining the fortifications of the town. He raced up the circular staircase and burst onto the battlement.

  Melissan and Sarevok were already there, joining the half dozen defenders still standing against the score of enemy soldiers. The tall woman swung her mace from side to side with both hands, smashing aside the sword of her foe with one swipe, then quickly reversing the direction of her weapon to bring its spiked head crashing down on her opponent's skull, piercing the iron helm. By the time the dying man had collapsed into the pool of blood gushing from his mangled temple, Melissan had already moved on.

  It was then Abdel realized he was charging headlong into the battle unarmed. He had let Gromnir's soldiers take his sword away when they escorted him to the prison. Without breaking stride Abdel dropped to the ground, letting his momentum carry him into a tumbling summersault. He scooped up a sword from one of the many fallen Saradush defenders as he rolled by and popped up to his feet just in time to block the incoming blade of a heavy battle axe.

  Abdel never slowed, but let his charge carry him crashing into the much smaller soldier attacking him. The man was driven back by Abdel's massive body, dropping his axe and pinwheeling his arms to keep his balance as he stumbled toward the edge of the wall. Abdel took a step back and brought a boot up into his foe's chest, then thrust with his leg. The screaming man tumbled backward over the parapet to the ground below.

  Beside him Abdel saw Sarevok shredding a path of destruction through their enemies. Like Abdel, the armored man had entered the battle without a sword, but unlike his half brother, Sarevok hadn't bothered to pick up a weapon.

  Sarevok's mailed fists crushed the skulls and smashed the faces of his enemies into pulp. The blows of his attackers rained down harmlessly on the reinforced iron plates of his mailed suit. Sarevok struck back with the spikes protruding from his elbows or slashed out with the razor-sharp blades forged on the forearms of his black armor, carving through metal, flesh, and bone indiscriminately. Soldiers fortunate enough to avoid Sarevok's deadly arms were left crippled and dying on the ground, their lower extremities savaged as Sarevok lashed out with a bladed shin to hack open an enemy's leg.

  The sight of Sarevok carving a swath of gruesome, visceral death through the battle evoked an instant response in Abdel's own soul. The fury of Bhaal answered Sarevok's wordless invitation, and Abdel began to hack down his opponents like wheat at the threshing.

  Even a division of elite mercenaries could not have stood before Abdel's ruthless assault, but these men were fodder—the expendable first wave of the attack. Their equipment was substandard, their technique and training nonexistent. Abdel disdainfully slapped away their feeble attempts to parry his lethal stabs, easily sidestepped the clumsy thrusts and wildly off-balance swings of his foes. Those foolish enough to stand in his way were disemboweled, their guts ripped from their torsos by Abdel's flashing blade. Those wise enough to turn and run were chopped down from behind and left dying in the ravaging sellsword's wake.

  Through the slaughter Abdel felt the hungry flames inside himself escalating, fuelled by the steady spray of hot blood that coated his hands and face. The world was tinged in crimson, his vision colored by Bhaal's mounting wrath. The fire became an inferno, until Abdel was certain his victims could feel its heat emanating from his skin even as they felt the cold steel of his blade.

  But this time it didn't consume Abdel. Even in the midst of the carnage, the sellsword never lost control. He never lost himself. Through sheer force of will he was able to subdue the demon within and keep the Ravager at bay.

  His assault had cleared a path to the nearest of the ladders the invaders had used to scale the wall, and Abdel still had sense enough to kick it down, so that it tumbled back and away from the wall. Three quick slashes of his sword and three corpses later he was at the second ladder. It, too, toppled back to the ground, taking several raiders with it.

  The other two ladders had already been knocked down, one by Sarevok and one by Melissan. Abdel spun back to face the melee and saw the only men still standing were all wearing either the colors of Saradush or Calimshan. The searing bloodlust in his soul flared, urging him to unleash his fury on his allies. He felt his skin tingle and itch, the first signs of the hideous transformation he had struggled to avoid at all costs.

  Abdel smothered the internal blaze and let his sword clatter to the ground, snuffing out the dark desires of his father's tainted blood as easily as he would crush a bug beneath his boot. The transformation ended before it even began. There wasn't time for the big sellsword to revel in his victory or even to wonder why the bloodlust of Bhaal's fury had been so easily quelled this time.

  One of the surviving members of the Saradush troops scooped up a large brass horn from a fallen comrade, while the others began to pick through the heap of bodies searching for survivors. The man with the horn blew three long, wavering blasts to alert the other defenders that the south wall was again secure.

  A series of answering blasts echoed over the besieged town.

  Melissan was now standing beside Abdel, though the big man hadn't noticed her approach.

  "The breach is sealed," she said, panting slightly from the exertion of the battle as she explained the meaning of the signals that had rung out over the rooftops of Saradush. "The other walls are secure, and the attackers have retreated. For now."

  There were many questions Abdel wanted to ask of this woman, many answers he needed. But when he opened his mouth, only a single word came out. "Jaheira!"

  He turned and ran back toward the dungeon.

  Chapter Nine

  "I just didn't want you to get hurt," Abdel explained, hoping Jaheira would forgive him for leaving her and Imoen trapped in the dungeon.

  He wasn't being completely honest with them—he still couldn't bring himself to recount his experience in the clearing with Illasera. He couldn't admit he had been mere seconds away from transforming into an uncontrollable monster that would have ripped his lover and his sister apart with its four taloned hands. But he had to tell the half-elf something.

  The locksmith working to free the end of the key jammed into the lock of the half-elf's cell nodded in agreement. "It was pretty messy up there, Miss," he said, offering Abdel some unsolicited support. "No place for a couple of ladies."