CONTENTS

 

	INTRODUCTION		PART ONE - NO DISGRACE ON THE DEAD
	OVERTURE		CHAPTER ONE
			CHAPTER TWO
			CHAPTER THREE

	PART TWO - THE THIEF, THE KNIGHT, HIS SISTER,AND MY LIES		CHAPTER FOUR
	CHAPTER ONE		CHAPTER FIVE
	CHAPTER TWO		CHAPTER SIX
	CHAPTER THREE		CHAPTER SEVEN

	CHAPTER EIGHT		CHAPTER TWELVE
	CHAPTER NINE		CHAPTER THIRTEEN
	CHAPTER TEN		CHAPTER FOURTEEN
	CHAPTER ELEVEN		CHAPTER FIFTEEN

	CHAPTER SIXTEEN
	CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
	CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Recently, I started a new Novel based on the Baldurs Gate II The Shadows of Amn game, it tells the alternative story of Jon Irenicus after the End of Throne of Bhaal

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCMENT: I am not going to post any new Chapters for ‘The Story of a Girl Without A Name’ for some time. The reason is - I am much too involved in writing the ‘Bitter Grey Ashes’. It is a story of Joneleth Irenicus, and I honestly think it is going to be a much better novel, as it is going to explore the reasons behind the main plot of the Shadows of Amn and dig into the past, present and future history of the Realms. If you are interested in this new project it can be found at the link provided. Thanks for reading and enjoy! BITTER GREY ASHES

Letter to the Reader from Sister Omphalla

Greetings, genteel reader!

It has come to be that I, a humble librarian at the temple of glorious Oghma, had stumbled upon a wonderful treasure lying forgotten in the obscure corner of our library. For I cannot call a previously unknown cache of historical documents anything but the treasure. The package contained a number of books and letters written in different hands but assembled in orderly fashion and carefully cross-referenced. Most of the tomes proved to be a rather obscure collection of rare grimoires on thaumaturgy and demonology. There was also a troll cookbook, a book on assembling magical constructs, and amazingly, three books on vampirism marked with the stamp of our library and for years listed as stolen. These three were in abysmal condition, although I cannot blame the owner of the collection for this transgression, as it will be evident later.

The pearl of this anthology was, however, a rather shabby looking octavo, bound in cheap cloth. It was that particular book, which contained most of the material that I used for my compilation. As a devoted servant of Oghma, I had seen it my duty and obligation to make this text public. I hope Oghma is pleased with the labor I have undertaken! As Oghma teaches us it is not the knowledge itself that is dangerous, but the absence of it.

If you are reading this text, then you are one of the few chosen by the priests of our temple. In recent years, ominous superstition based on yet unfulfilled ancient prophecy reared its ugly head. We have to be careful. The foolhardy followers of the dead god Bhaal would do anything to get their hands on this apocrypha, even though, it is probably just a good forgery.

The book turned out to be a kind of a chronicle, following the life of one of Bhaal's many children. It has been written and later amended by the same hand at various times. Most of the original text had been crossed over and replaced by long obscure comments and side notes, like the author was in conflict with her own records. There are little maps, side sketches and even some very bad poetry scattered across the text. I do not have the ability to reproduce these features here, which is most unfortunate. I had a hard time trying to read the original entries and finally gave up and followed the later corrected versions and the inclusions as much as possible. Some of these annotations refer to the letters found within the portfolio of documents. In such cases, I had inserted a citation in the text of the compilation. For obvious reasons, the author could not have witnessed some of the episodes mentioned in the chronicle. She must have reconstructed them from other sources and conversations, which she had not mentioned in her manuscript.

There are lots of historical quotations as well as book references in this text. And while some of the books referred to in the manuscript do exist, and can even be found in our library via the catalog (like notorious "Wizard Slayer Companion" by Sir Tamdorn Torquemad or "Pandemonium Apercu - a Practical guide to Monster Summoning" by unknown author), the other titles sound absolutely preposterous to believe that they are real. Like for example: "Vampirism for Dummies" or "Become a handsome knight in 100 easy steps or your money back guaranteed!"

So, I leave it to your common sense and imagination, either to believe the mysterious author or not, and at the very least wish that you would enjoy this book for the sake of the story!

Very Truly Yours,
Omphalla Otis, the Loremaster,
Assistant Librarian at the temple of Oghma in the city of Athkatla.

THE OVERTURE

The night forest was wet and glum, grumbling restlessly under the cold breath of the northern wind like an old dog in uneasy sleep. The dieing moon shone through the bare branches of trees, washing the empty clearing with pale blue light. This created just the right scenic effect of a disaster hovering on the boundary of madness, which was a good epitome to my life, and what I made of it. I thought that adding a bit of bloodcurdling howling, and flapping of batwings would not hurt but that was beyond my reach.

"Yeah right, just the right touch!"

I tried to warm my cold fingers inside the sleeves of my fancy silk robe. In vain. The fire that I managed to cajole into existence by applying a minor fire spell to the miserably wet pile of wood was dying, and so was my patience with the man who shared it with me, and who had frequently shared my bed as well. He tried to stay calm, and put on a good face, even though this time I refused to cooperate.

"Running away from us is not going to solve anything ..."

"Please spare me the aggravation! She is with you, I gather?"

"They are all waiting behind that thicket. She sent me ahead to try talk some sense into you."

"Did you tell her already?"

"No, but listen, I will..."

"This misery cannot continue!"

My clothes were wet from drizzling rain, my shoes squelched when I moved. It was definitely no fun to camp outside in the rain. But bodily discomfort was nothing compared to nagging heartache that I was trying to fight with all my strength.

"I made this decision to save us all the embarrassment and her the pain of discovering our affair! I really wanted to disappear. How in the name of Nine Hells did you find me? Nobody of you was ever that great at tracking, and I had taken great pains not to leave any physical traces!"

"Imoen did a little divination."

"I hate it when she meddles with magic! She never was any good at it, and it is way too dangerous for her. Why doesn’t she stick to what she does best - like spying on people and…"

"My dear, nobody can be as good as you, of course. Aren’t you a little jealous though? You could never master a simplest divination spell yourself. "

"I prefer to do things the best way possible or not at all! I never understood this half-assed approach Imoen takes about her spellcasting!"

"…!"

His smile was warm, and a little uneasy but as always it touched me with a sense of vulnerability.

"He and his damn boyish charm!" I shivered with wretched guilt as his fingers caressed my face.

"I never cared much for Divination indeed. My strength lies with Summoning and Mind Control spells…I better stop thinking about this," I thought desperately. "About what I did to him, to myself, to my best friend..."

If I ever wanted to regain control of my life I had to let go of him. Let go of all of them including my near-sister Imoen, who had walked into my bedroom by 'accident', and gave me two days to speak with my lover’s wife. That left me with no choice but to flee the Ducal Palace of Baldur's Gate in the middle of a night, and end up in this miserably wet place, looking and feeling like a drowned rat. Which brought up an unwelcome chase on the part of my so-called friends.

Like anything that is left of my life could be salvaged anyway! I am branded forever as an exotic and dangerous product of divine fornication with a mortal. My mother is dead, having left me with the curse of life and a gift of name. My foster father Gorion, the only person in this world who had ever loved me for what I am is dead too, and it is all my fault. My own hand slayed my mad half-brother Sarevok, the one who had murdered Gorion.

I am in love with a married man whose wife used to be my friend. I would not be surprised if it came to be by her own design. Like I needed a distraction... and who is better suited for this than ... No, this is madness! She would not have done that to us. Would she? I shall swear on anything dear to me that I had not expected this insanity to overcome my rational and ordered mind. I felt attracted to him ever since we first met but until two months ago I never thought of … Liar! Stop lying to yourself at least! That was what you dreamed of from the start, and that is exactly what you've got - a dark forest in the middle of the cold autumn night, alone with inane gibbering of the summoned imps in the shadows cooking your supper, and then him stepping out into the opening like he had always been there in the first place.

"So, should I go call the others?"

His face was still smiling when the blackness of the night erupted with violence. The assault came swiftly and unexpectedly. A blaze of chain lightning sizzled and died at a close distance across the little glade. I heard a woman scream and curse in the harsh language of Rashemi. Our clearing crawled with figures of shadowy people, clad in black. He crumbled before my very eyes, and went down trying to protect me from the lethal blow on the head. My hands jerked up swiftly, as I started the incantation but the blue swell of a silence spell enveloped me in a deadly cocoon. With precise vision and calm of a person trapped in a nightmare I followed the swift motion of a stiletto in a hand of the assassin. It flicked, as he carefully cleaned the blade on my dead lover's shirt; and I saw his very light blue eyes and white-toothed smile. My own useless dagger twisted off the hidden chainmail under his hooded coat.

" Too late... why is it always too late?" That was my last coherent thought before the void took away everything.

A spherical underground chamber was illuminated faintly with eerie light. If one looked closer she would have noticed that the glow emanated from the floor tiles. Four polished gray columns supported semicircular rails, defining the center of the room. Overall the place resembled a shrine of a sort, with strange symbols carved into the floor, and the central area marked with a cross. Except no deity was ever worshipped here but insatiable pride and hunger.

The central spot flashed with green light. A cloud of white fog gathered and coalesced into a shape of a young woman, clad scantily in tight black leathers. The chamber was a portal, and the moment she stepped off the central spot clicking with her high heels on the polished marble, a pleasant musical sound ringed across the room. There was something very disturbing about the young woman’s appearance. She was blonde, delicate, and stunningly good-looking; dressed with a panache of professional streetwalker in black high heels and deeply-cut leather corsage fitting like a glove. Her figure was spectacular. Yet strangely, her garments made her look extremely dangerous rather than sensual, a predator more than a prey. There was something about her eyes that made you uneasy. They gleamed on her pale face with intense crimson radiance, same as that of a carbuncle on the hilt of her long knife that was sticking from her boot. The young woman smiled rather cat-like, flicking two rows of white gleaming teeth. Her canines were unusually well-developed and had sharp pointy tips. At that precise moment a tall male figure entered the teleporter chamber in a sure step.

"You are late, madam!" He emphasized the last word so it sounded more like a mockery than a greeting, though the voice itself was pleasant and deeply resonant.

"Joni, why are you always such a brute? You need to go out more often," she purred. "I was busy when your message was received, that was all. I am here now."

"Forget your little games. Aran had finally delivered the goods."

"You have the Child! This is wonderful!" Her eyes sparked with genuine feeling. The red gleam was more profound now. She licked her scarlet lips hungrily.

"There is something unusual about it though. I think I got more than I asked for," now she heard amusement in his voice.

"What do you mean by this?"

"There maybe more than one among them."

"What? You are serious about it, aren’t you?"

"I am always serious. It only means that I don't have to hunt through the countryside for another one. Things are moving faster than I had anticipated. But I need to break the older one out of the stasis to have a closer look."

"I … I will do anything to help. You know I was always loyal to you. Loyal and proud of your strength! If we can make it together …"

"Oh yes, dear sister. The kind of help that I got from you in the past was priceless," He sounded abrasive and sarcastic now. "I want to show my beloved what had become of me when she cast me out. If for that reason only you shall be there with me. In the mean time I have a task."

"Whatever you wish dear," his sister’s voice sounded smooth as a cream but the man shrugged at this attempted show of submission. He had known her for a very long time to take it seriously.

"Some of the goods were damaged, so I refused to pay for the corpses. Now Aran threatens me," he shook his head reproachfully,"you should be able to deal with it."

"But of course I will! This is going to be a lot of fun!"

"Please be discrete, I don’t want any of your usual special effects."

She pouted and made a sullen face like a child who was denied a new toy, "I have such an amusing scheme in mind. Surely you are going to love it!"

"Like what? Robbing another temple? Or setting an undead Beholder as a new savior? This new 'partner' of yours can be dangerous," the man's face was invisible in the shadow but the scorn in his voice was unmistakable.

She hissed in mild irritation. "It has nothing to do with the Rune business! I was going to start my own guild. And you are growing old and boring. Speaking of which - you have promised me to help with those translations."

The man just threw his hands up in mock surrender.