Son of Bhaal

The Unraveling of the Weave

Part One

A thousand years in the future...

Captain Nalia de Arnise sat in her thickly cushioned command chair, slim right leg crossed over her left, her knee-high black boots reflecting the soft glow from the unmanned bridge consoles. During the night watch only two officers were on-station, the helmsman standing at the wheel and the navigator, who monitored the seeing orb for signs of enemy ships. The humming of the ship's propellers soothed Nalia, she rested her entwined fingers on her stomach and gazed out through the bridge ports, the night was clear and bright with stars, nebulae flowed across the void like a radiant veil. Some day her daughter would sail the seas of space, the first spell-jamming ships were already on the drawing boards.

There was a bright ruby flash to starboard. Nalia narrowed her eyes and sat up in her chair.

"Report!"

"Zhentarim destroyer in cannon range, she's fired on us!"

The bridge deck tilted hard to starboard as the enemy shell smashed into the war galley's hull.

"Sound battle alert! Helm! Hard to port, give me some distance!" snapped Nalia.

The helmsman spun the large guiding wheel. The war galley dove into a cloud bank, the ship's bells reverberating through the bulkheads.

The rest of the bridge crew rushed on deck and took their posts. Golden lights snapped to life, Nalia tapped a nail on the right arm of her wide chair.

"Navigation, where is she?"

"She's hard on our tail, we're still in cannon range!"

Nalia uncapped the voice tube that ran to engineering. "Engineering! I need more speed!"

"That's all she's got, Captain!" shouted back the chief engineer.

"Tactical, arm the aft cannons!"

"Already being loaded, Captain," replied the cool weapons officer.

A glancing shot off the aft hull vibrated through the deck. Nalia grimaced in frustration.

"Communications! Send a message to March Command! Tell them we have a Zhentarim destroyer violating our air space!"

"Aye, Captain," nodded the Sender.

The bridge shook like a bucking stallion. Nalia clung to her chair while the deck shifted, sending crewmen off their feet. There was a loud screech of tearing metal, the bridge lights flickered and died, emergency glow orbs turned the bridge's interior blood-red.

"Engineering, engineering!" shouted Nalia into the voice tube. No one replied.

The war galley began a steep dive, the helmsman pulled back hard on the wheel, the ship didn't respond. The buzz of the propellers stopped, everyone on the bridge was deathly silent.

"Sound the bell to abandon ship," said Nalia, her face cast in stone.

"Captain..,"

"Go, all of you!"

The bridge crew filed out of the room, Nalia was alone, clutching the arms of her command chair, while the war galley slowly spun towards the earth. Another shell blasted through the hull, the Zhents were adding insult to injury, firing on a dying March warship. Nalia closed her eyes, she waited for Death to lay claim to her.

***

Bain groaned and dropped his right arm over his eyes. The clock bell continued to ring shrilly, making the man's brain ache. Bain rolled onto his side and flicked the lever behind the clock that would silence the alarm. Blessed quiet returned, Bain rested on his side, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"Gorion will have my head if I'm late again," sighed Bain before he climbed out of bed. The large, heavily-muscled man padded across the bedroom into the bath. He yanked the chain that would open the shower valve, he quickly stepped into the stall and lathered while the water was still hot. Bain was quick on this particular morning, he finished his shower just as the water started chilling, he jumped out before it became ice cold and pulled the chain again to stop the water flow.

Bain dressed in a somewhat clean blue shirt and trousers, followed by socks that were beginning to tear and tarnished brown loafers. Glancing at the ticking clock, Bain decided he didn't have time to make a sandwich, he would have to buy something from one of the lunch vendors. The tall, dark-haired man locked his apartment door, descended two flights of stairs, and walked quickly from his apartment building south to the construction yard.

Storm clouds were coming in off the Sea of Swords, it looked like an ugly one was going to hit. The cobblestone street was soon filled with pedestrians and coaches, many were walking to work as Bain was, the rich coach passengers were beginning a hard day of shopping and drinking tea. Bain envied the rich, but then consoled himself with the thought that at least he didn't have a wife and children to support.

Bain clocked in right on time for his shift. He was disappointed that Gorion wasn't around, he had wanted to gloat a little before going to his post. Bain walked along the drydock, putting on his hard hat and admiring the warship taking shape in the building frame. She was a battleship, it had taken a year to get this far, and it would require another year to complete the ship. She was a fine looking vessel, Bain was proud to be working on her. The burly man reached his scaffold and began climbing the ladder to his post. He had several sections of armor plating to bolt on before lunch.

***

There was no warning when the scaffold gave way. Bain didn't even have time to grab for something when the plank he stood on snapped. He bounced off of several support beams, then smashed to the ground with a weak groan. Workers rushed to help Bain, Gorion appeared from his office and took stock of the situation. A white stretcher was brought up, Bain was carefully lifted onto the carrier, then hurried to the infirmary. A nurse had Bain's stretcher placed atop a bed, she sent a messenger boy to get an ambulance coach.

"How bad is he?" inquired Gorion nervously, his gnarled hands wringing.

The blonde woman examined Bain's wounds with a professional eye. She rose and faced the dock manager.

"He's broken his left arm in two places, broken his right leg in one, and shattered his left hip. He doesn't appear to be bleeding internally, so hopefully his organs are not damaged."

Gorion nodded gravely. "Please continue to watch him until the ambulance coach arrives, Nurse Jaheira."

The lithe young woman nodded, she returned her gaze to the unconscious worker after Gorion left.

Jaheira knelt beside Bain. She gently placed her right palm over his heart, her almond-shaped eyes slowly closed. The woman let the magic flow through her into Bain. The man groaned softly, he shifted on the bed, a faint golden aura surrounding his body. Jaheira's eyes snapped open, she stumbled away from the man.

The aura around Bain still framed him, he shifted on the mattress again while his bent limbs straightened and mended. The superficial cuts covering his face and arms closed and disappeared, within a few heartbeats it appeared as if he had never fallen.

"Impossible!" breathed Jaheira, brushing a loose strand of golden hair away from her face.

The nurse was still sitting in a corner when the hospital workers came for Bain. One of them evaluated Bain's condition, he turned to address Jaheira.

"I was told that this man was badly injured!"

Jaheira blinked. She struggled to her feet and brushed down her white skirt. "He..was not as badly hurt as I originally stated. I..misdiagnosed his condition. He suffered a few bruises, that's all."

The medical worker looked at Gorion, who was speechless.

"Women," muttered the white-frocked worker as he waved his men out of the infirmary.

"Nurse Jaheira! What is the meaning of this?" demanded Gorion, his wrinkled face flushed with embarrassment.

"I apologize, Mr. Gorion," murmured Jaheira, lowering her head.

"The ambulance coach will cost me money! Expect it to come out of your salary this week!" declared Gorion before he marched out of the infirmary in a huff.

Bain groaned again, his eyelids began fluttering. Jaheira was frozen in place, she didn't know if she should run or stay to see if he needed help.

Bain slowly opened his eyes. He looked at the white-washed ceiling, then lowered his gaze to Jaheira.

"Nurse, what happened?" whispered Bain.

"You fell, sir. They brought you in here, but your wounds were not serious."

"I ache all over," groaned the man.

"Do you want a coach to take you home?"

"No, thank you, a coach would take a quarter of my salary," grinned Bain. "Can I just lay here for a few minutes and rest?"

"Of course, sir," nodded Jaheira with a smile.

***

Sarevok stared hard at the map of Faerun, thick arms crossed over his chest, his face dark and glowering. The voices of the March commanders filled the room, some where close to panic, others kept their professional calm and went over the field reports yet again. Sarevok turned away from the map and regarded Queen Alustriel. She sat in the high-backed, red velvet-lined chair at the head of the conference table. She appeared more weary than usual, the lines around her eyes were harsher, her long, silver hair seemed tarnished. The Queen suddenly noticed Sarevok's intense scrutiny, she straightened in her chair and smiled brightly.

"What are your thoughts, General Sarevok?"

"It would be foolish to assume that these probes by the Zhents are a prelude to an invasion of the Silver Marches. The most direct route is through the Cormyran Empire, they would have to destroy the Royal Dragoons first."

"They could march north of the Empire," suggested a nervous general.

"Through hundreds of leagues of desert, with no supply caches or fuel stores for their tanks? No, general. The Zhentarim are merely testing our border patrols, probing for weaknesses."

"Which we seem to have aplenty," smirked another general. "Our war galleys lost eight out of ten engagements."

Sarevok waited for the Queen's reply.

"We have let our defenses weaken during the last five hundred years of peace. We have put too much faith in our Cormyran neighbors, we cannot depend on them too much," said Alustriel softly with effort.

"Are you well, Majesty?" asked Sarevok.

Alustriel glanced sharply at the general, she quickly covered her ire with a placid expression. The seated generals watched the Queen with concern and worry, she smiled to soothe them.

"I am well, General Sarevok. This incursion by the Zhentarim does trouble me. When will the new battleships be air worthy?"

"Two are almost ready for shake-down trials, the other ten will take about a year to complete, less if we allocate more labor and resources."

"If we do that the people will know that something is amiss. Panic could set in."

"The risk may be worth it. The Zhents wouldn't send probes this far west unless they're planning something, like an invasion of the Cormyran Empire," pointed out Sarevok.

"The Empire possesses the most powerful army in the world! The Zhents wouldn't dare!" protested an aging general.

"You forget that after the last war between the Zhentarim Dominion and the Empire, the Zhents turned their attention east. Imperial intelligence reported that Zhent armies overran all of the nations from Thay to the Pirate Isles. The Zhents have had forty years to build up their armies, tank divisions, and air fleet. I believe that they are at least equal to the Empire, if not superior," replied Sarevok.

The sitting generals stared at Sarevok. Queen Alustriel leaned back into her chair, Sarevok caught a glimmer of real fear in the Queen's blue eyes, he could never recall seeing that emotion in her gaze before.

"You paint a bleak picture, General," smiled Alustriel wanly.

"A wise soldier knows the strength of his enemy before he engages in battle," replied Sarevok.

"Continue building the battleships with the labor already assigned, but I authorize you to use more funds from the treasury for materials and overtime. We will work more quickly to get those ships air worthy, but we must do so quietly, to keep our own people calm and to keep the Zhentarim in the dark," said Alustriel sternly.

"It will be done, Majesty," bowed Sarevok with the other generals.

***

 The horn that signaled the end of Bain's shift sounded. Bain rolled his stiff shoulders, then climbed down to clock out and put away his hard hat. Bain waved good-bye to some of his co-workers as he took the cobblestone road back to his apartment. The evening air coming off the Sea of Swords was sharp and chilly, Bain flicked up the collar of his long coat and considered getting a beer at the pub. Visions of Imoen swam in Bain's mind, he smiled and walked a little faster down the crowded street.

The Rogue's Rest was doing brisk business. Several workers from the yard were already deep into their mugs. Bain found a small corner table and listened to the music of one of Imoen's sisters, she played a violin with exceptional skill.

"Hey, stranger!" grinned Imoen, dropping onto Bain's lap.

Bain grimaced a little, his bruises were mostly gone, but he still felt the occasional sharp pain from one of his healed wounds.

"Are you alright?" asked Imoen, frowning with concern as she stroked his short, black hair.

"I had an accident at work a few days ago, that's why I haven't been in."

"You poor dear!" murmured Imoen, placing a kiss on Bain's forehead.

Bain enfolded Imoen's small waist and kissed her lips until she pulled away.

"You seem better now!" giggled the young woman.

"Are you free tonight?" growled Bain with a leer.

"Aye, my shift is over at nine."

"I'll wait for you. Can I have a beer?"

"Sure, love," smiled Imoen, giving Bain one short kiss before climbing off of his lap.

***

Imoen guided Bain upstairs by the hand. The second floor of the pub housed the rooms of Imoen's family, she shared a room with two younger sisters, but they were still working downstairs. Once inside the bedroom, Imoen lit an oil lamp, Bain draped his long coat over a chair and began unbuttoning his heavy brown shirt. Bain smiled when Imoen turned away from the lamp to face him. Imoen smiled saucily as she loosened her long skirts and let them fall to the wooden floorboards. Imoen was slender, with creamy, milk-white skin. The couple finished undressing and climbed into Imoen's bed.

Imoen was warm against Bain as he ran his fingers through her soft, dark brown hair. Imoen kissed Bain tenderly, he hugged her tightly against him while he returned the embrace, their tongues stroking, their lips melded together. As Bain caressed Imoen's left buttock, the girl took his cock with her right hand, she fondled it slowly, her fingers gentle as she slid her hand up and down its length, waking it to hardness.

Bain positioned himself between Imoen's legs. He lifted her limbs and set her ankles on his shoulders, Imoen reached behind her head to hold onto her pillow while Bain pushed his erection into her cunt. Imoen moaned softly and closed her eyes, Bain held the girl's hips firmly, driving his prick deeper into her very tight hole. Bain licked Imoen's calves as he started pumping between her thighs, his fingers dug into her smooth flesh, he grunted with the effort of every pelvic thrust. Imoen panted sharply, flexing her small buttocks, slamming her crotch into Bain's. She opened her eyes and watched Bain's body writhe against hers, his powerful muscles tightened beneath a sheen of perspiration, she gasped when Bain buried his cock deep in her belly, the member thick and quivering, spreading the pink folds of her wet pussy. The mattress groaned in protest as Bain humped Imoen faster and faster. Imoen's sweat-slick hair was plastered to the pillow beneath her, Bain leaned down to dig his fingers into her slick mane, he devoured her panting lips, her soft moans filled his mouth. Bain thrust into Imoen and released his load of cum inside her. Imoen's upraised legs shivered when she orgasmed, her pussy squeezing Bain's shaft.

"You have to go, my sisters will be up here soon," whispered Imoen before she kissed Bain.

Bain planted kisses on Imoen's warm throat, the girl moaned with pleasure and hugged his waist. Bain wanted to stay wrapped in Imoen's soft arms, but he didn't want her to get in trouble with her family, and he did have work the next day.

"I'll try to be back in a couple days."

"I'll wait for you," smiled Imoen, hugging Bain's neck and giving him a long, hot kiss to remember her by.

***

When Nalia regained consciousness, she was buried in a tangle of twisted iron beams and torn armor plate. The young captain took stock of her wounds, she had several cuts and scrapes, but thankfully no broken bones. Nalia examined the network of metal caging her, she found a possible escape route and used it, climbing slowly, her bruises throbbing in protest. The winding pathway through the debris led Nalia outside the war galley, the sky was dark, clouds sailed serenely across the heavens.

The war galley had crashed near a wide river. Trees lined both sides of the river, the waterway seemed to cut through a sizable forest. An occasional burst of birdsong broke the night's silence, Nalia carefully descended from the shattered bridge to the ground, her legs wobbling when her boots finally touched the earth. Nalia sat against the war galley's ruined hull and watched the glittering river flow past, without a Sender she couldn't contact another ship to pick her up, without food she would die unless she could find a town or village nearby. The young captain checked her wounds again, she was not bleeding, one less thing to worry about. Nalia struggled to her feet with a groan and rested her left hand briefly on the dagger she still wore on her belt. She wished she had a pistol, but the dagger would have to do. Nalia left the ruin of her ship and descended a gentle slope to the river. She drank her fill, then washed the blood and soot from her face. Rising and feeling a little better, Nalia followed the course of the river, hoping she would find civilization soon.

*****