A/N: Yes, I know I said I'd concentrate on my first story, The Light Within. Sorry! Never trust a promise made by a writer. Inspiration rang, and I was powerless to resist. Thought I'd try a different form of summary, see how it plays out. Further chapters will be twice as long as this. Anyhow, enjoy.
1. The Boy. An Oath. Partners. The Attack. A Silent Promise.
There existed at one point in Waterdeep's history a regiment of soldiers called the 58th Post. The 58th Post: they were the cream of the crop, every military grunt's dream was to join that hallowed division. What made them the best? It wasn't their prowess in battle: they fought well, but there were better. It wasn't their training: other divisions went through many more drills than they. Rather, it was their dedication and unswerving loyalty to their job, their city. This was quite a feat in the City of Splendors, where corruption is just as alive as in any other city. Every citizen was treated like a member of their family, no matter their rank, position, or race. It was for this reason that the 58th Post was recognized and respected by all of Waterdeep inhabitants. If you were in trouble, you could count on them to help you if possible, whether you were a noble or a vagrant.
This story concerns an incident early in the history of the 58th Post, in which a soldier rose from anonymity in order to protect both the regiment and the city he loved. This is his story.
-- Excerpt from The Tale of the Shadow of Avingon
Waterdeep, 23 years ago
A boy of about 7 years old stole past the Station of theWatch, located just beyond the Trade Wardof Waterdeep. An odd shaped lump bulged under his shirt, stretching the brown cloth to the limit. The boy shot a nervous look at the front door of the station, his heart thumping in his chest. The door remained closed, but he still passed it by at a fast walk, denying and at the same time perfectly certain that he was being watched.
As the station began to fade into the distance behind him, though, he began to calm down. What a break! He hadn't wanted to pass by that place, if he could help it. Even though he was still a child, he knew that he was "poor," and that meant exclusion from finery, from total acceptance in the wider world. Thewatch would not give him trouble for just being in the Trade Ward, but the merchants could.
It couldn't be helped, though. Most merchantslived in the NorthWard of Waterdeep and commuted to hawk their wares to passerby, both rich and poor. Today theWard had been crowded, packed in with tourists, but the boy didn't mind. It only made his task easier to accomplish.
Once he had completed his mission, he had fled from theWard as quickly as possible. Few people would be aware a boy running through the streets in a crowd, and even fewer would notice a poor boy. So, his flight was largely ignored. But his home was in the South Ward, and he had to pass through theTrade Wardto get there. The seven districts of Waterdeep was arranged in a circular formation, and going in the other direction would have taken him through the Dock Ward, which was dangerous and no place for a child.
But it seemed like his worrying had been for naught. He had passed by without a problem, and it was a quick walk to home, to safety. The boy heaved a deep sigh relief as he walked around the corner…
And directly into the form of one of the soldiers in the 58th Post, Waterdeep's elite guard regiment. The soldier carried a long sword, simple yet impressive at his waist, and carried a heavy looking bronze tower shield on his back. His polished helm gleamed brightly in the sunlight. He was like a God, but one of judgment, not one to be trifled with.
The boy fell to the ground hard, rebounding off of the man's heavy armor, and the bulge beneath his shirt loosened and fell into his lap. It was a long roll of electric blue silk, crumpled unceremoniously. With a gasp, the boy gathered up the material and scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. But the soldier was quicker, snagging the end of his shirttail just as he darted in the opposite direction.
The soldier, whose name was Owen, spun the thief around smartly and held him by the collar of his tunic, a stern glare in his eyes. The boy was dark-skinned, tall for his age, lanky, with a head of black curly hair. His dark brown eyes looked terrified, the eyes of a cornered animal. His hands clutched the silk closer to himself, as if to protect it.
"What's your name, kid?" Owen asked. His tone was easy-going, friendly, and his grip on the boy's shirt loosened slightly. The boy still looked like a scared puppy, and if showed signs of bolting, Henry would still have time to grab him. But, soothed by the soldier's tone, and in awe of his status (one of the 58th Post! Unbelievable!) the boy answered in a hushed tone:
"My name's Eli Alenden, sir."
"Eli! A fine name!" Owen's face broke into a grin, and the impenetrable shield of authority surrounding him seemed to shift a bit to Eli. He saw that Henry wasn't old like all of the other guards he had seen, he was younger… a kid like him, and at the same time, strangely adult. "Eli, where do you live?"
"In the South Ward, sir."
"Call me Henry, please." Owen corrected him. His blue eyes locked onto to the silk, and Eli's stomach churned unpleasantly. When those steely eyes locked onto his, he felt his knees turn to jelly.
"Well, Eli-of-the-South-Quarter, mind telling me why you have this silk? Do you have the proof of purchase?"
"Ah, well, s-sir…" Eli stammered, the churning of the stomach now pounding in his head to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Perhaps honesty was best; he was a terrible liar. "Well, it's my mother's birthday tomorrow, and I don't have the money to get her something nice… She's always wanted something like this," he held up the silk helplessly, plunging on, "and I thought that if maybe I could… We could never afford this, and I shouldn't have but…"
"This is all I had," Eli said, digging a hand into his pocket and coming back with four gold coins. The coins looked dirty and old, like they hadn't been used in a long time. Where had he found them, Owen wondered? Loose change from the wallets of those who wouldn't notice the loss, or care. "It's my secret stash. But the merchant said that it wasn't enough for even the cheapest cloth…"
The boy broke off, his eyes beginning to tear up, which he wiped automatically with the back of one hand. All the same, Owen was pleased. The boy's eyes were true, he could sense no lie, and the tears seemed genuine. Besides, other kids would have spent it on themselves without a thought. This one had thought to spend it on someone else, and it seemed wrong to discourage such sentiments.
"Don't cry, Eli, it's all right," Owen said gently, releasing the boy's collar and good-naturedly ruffled the boy's unruly hair. The boy sniffled, but when he looked up, the tears were gone. "Tell you what I'm going to do. The priests always say that to rid yourself of sin, you must repent, right?"
"Yeah," the boy agreed, nodding his head.
"I'll let you keep the cloth, but you must do two things for me. The first: you must never again steal from anyone. Your mother wouldn't like that."
The boy nodded slowly, his face solemn, and Owen's liking of the boy grew. He didn't agree too quickly with the insincere oath of a thief, but he hadn't refused either. On a whim, he changed his second condition.
"Second, and this is for your sin: when you become of age, you must join the 58th Post of Waterdeep and serve for one year. After that, and only after that, will I consider you forgiven."
"The 58th Post? Me? Join?" The boy asked incredulously. His grip on the silk loosened, as awe overcame his anxiousness. "Do you think I could really make it? I heard that it's really, really hard to join them- I mean, you."
"Don't worry about that- I'll help you, if you need it. Do I have your word?" He offered one hand, and the boy took it without a second thought, his smaller hand swallowed up in the man's handshake.
"It's a deal."
"Good. Hold on a second," Owen cried as the boy began to leave, trying to shove the silk under his shirt again. He took the silk from him, and Eli looked at him apprehensively, thinking that Owen had changed his mind. But the soldier only folded up the cloth neatly, before handing it back. Eli found that he could hide the silk much more easily than before, and looked at the man with wonder.
"Best hurry on home, Eli, it's getting late," Owen said with a mock-stern face. The soldier tipped him a wink and went on his way, headed towards the Station of the Watch. Eli looked after him, feeling a little dazed after such a turn of events. After a few minutes, he slowly turned and began his walk home.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Waterdeep, Present Day"If I remember correctly, you were barefoot that day," Owen said, smirking. He was 44 years old, and the young face Eli remembered from their first meeting had filled out with time. He was no longer as thin or as quick as he used to be, but Owen was still Owen.
"No, I'm sure I was wearing something!" Eli protested. "Do you know how hard these cobblestones are on bare feet?"
The young boy in Owen's memory had grown, becoming very different from what he used to be. He had grown into his body, standing a good two inches over Owen. His head of hair was pulled back, braided against his head. His eyes, the windows of the soul, still reflected the hardships that he had faced growing up, but there was also happiness there. Rain falls on the just and unjust.
"Well, if anyone would, then it'd be you," Owen joked, his blue eyes dancing. Eli raised a gauntleted hand, making a motion to hit him, but Owen moved out of range, laughing.
It had been twenty-three years, almost to the very day, when Owen had planted the small seed of an idea in Eli's head. To join the 58th Post of Waterdeep was extremely difficult. Not even the richest noble could buy his way into membership, the corps valued hard work, integrity, and a strong sense of ethics. All of these Eli possessed in good supply. The next was harder: years of strenuous physical conditioning in one of the elite military schools in Waterdeep. Owen, thankfully, had lent him the money he required to pay the tuition once Eli had explained his need.
Those years had been difficult: Eli possessed quick feet and a faster eye from his years on the street, which soon brought him to the top of his class during sparring matches. But there was more than just combat involved, a soldier needed to know many, many formations in case of a sudden attack on the city. They needed to know protocol, the chain of command, rules, rules and more rules.
Somehow, due to the mix of his own determination and Owen's encouragement, he graduated from the academy with flying colors. From there, it had taken about two years of exceptional service and a recommendation from Owen before he could finally achieve his dream: he had done it, he was one of the 58th Post!
"Afternoon, Mary," Owen said, tapping two fingers against his helm respectfully as they passed by a merchant cart loaded with ripe fruit.
A plump woman with a round face and rosy cheeks smiled at them, standing behind the counter. "Good afternoon, Owen! Would you like some fruit? The apples taste heavenly!"
"I can always trust your judgment, Mary," Owen replied. He stopped to purchase and apple while Eli waited behind, lost in his thoughts.
He could still remember the days when he would have been treated by dirt if he had been seen wandering around the North Ward. Now, people treated him with respect, viewed him as a mentor, someone they could look up to him. It made him proud.
"Have a good day, Mary!" Eli called behind them as they left the South Quarter. Owen turned the apple over in his palm, admiring its perfect red glow, then took a large bite out of it.
"Want some?" Owen offered.
"No thanks," Eli declined politely. Owen's one fault was that he had a habit of talking with his mouth full. No amount of chiding would change his way, though Eli had attempted on and off for the last seven years before giving up. Some habits are harder to break than others, he supposed. Besides, he could do worse for a partner. Hill was paired up with Jalef, for example, and it was common knowledge that Jalef was a fan of the bottle.
They walked on in silence for a bit. The day was perfect, sunny but not humid, without a cloud in the sky. Their patrol had been fine so far, unspoiled by any of the multitude of crimes that could happen in a day. As they entered theTrade Wardthrough the north entrance, Owen tossed his apple core into a nearby trash bin. One of the regular watchmenwatching the entrance waved at them, and Eli returned the greeting.
"How's Sarah?" Owen asked, referring to Eli's daughter. After joining the 58th Post, Eli had chose to settle down in the South Ward, in the same neighborhood he grew up in. Just his presence seemed to make the place a little safer, and the two story home he and his family lived in had never been broken into.
"She's great, healthy. She still hasn't learned how to play that flute you gave her, but she's making progress every day," Eli responded. "And Mina wanted me to ask you if you would be interested in coming over dinner this week."
"As long as you're not cooking, sounds good to me."
"Ha ha."
Looking back, Eli found that he could place it at that exact moment- while they were discussing domestic matters, nothing of any consequence, minding their own business- that things took a turn for the worse. Maybe the alignment of the planets shifted in that period of time, a slight shift in temperature, even a minute hesitation in his next step. Anything that could explain what happened next, that was all he asked for.
In the middle of laughing, Eli noticed something that should not have been possible, and he paused. That pause might have made all the difference in the following events, but hindsight is 20/20, isn't it?
Owen's shadow seemed much darker than it had a second ago, becoming more oppressive, gaining weight and form. It seemed less like a sketch of Owen's body and more like a painting, ready to jump to life right off of the ground. I didn't see that, Eli thought, frozen in his wonder. But even as he was reassuring himself, the shadow turned a shade darker, changing from a light gray to charcoal black.
Owen, confused by the expression on Eli's face, started to turn around. "What are you looking-?" He never had the chance to finish the sentence.
As the older man half-turned, the shadow did take form, reaching upwards like a drowning man. It was bizarre, like watching a swimmer surface from the depths of a deep, dark lake. Half of its body was reaching up towards Owen, the other was on the stone, in its natural form. The shadow changed shape, metamorphosing into the torso of an elf. Even though it was only for a brief instant, that face was burned into Eli's memory.
The elf was pale as death and gaunt, as if he had not eaten solid food for weeks. His piercing green eyes narrowed in concentration, and lank black hair hung from his shoulders in no particular style. A wicked-looking dagger with a large purple amethyst encased in the handle was clutched tightly in his right hand. As Eli looked on, the blade punched deep into Owen's side, puncturing his left lung and parting his steel armor like water.
Owen cried out in pain and surprise, but even wounded, he did not forget his training. His hand went to his sheath on automatic, pulling out his blade in one quick movement. But before he even had a chance to use, the elf pulled back the dagger in a sideways, tearing motion, opening up the entire left side of Owen's stomach. His intestines, bright red and blue, tumbled out onto the ground like stuffing in a torn doll.
"OWEN!" Eli shouted, the deadly paralysis that had stricken his body finally gone. He unsheathed his sword in one fluid movement, lunging forward and stabbing at the elf. But he was a second too late: his blade tasted only air as the elf returned to shadow. Owen wobbled unsteadily on his feet before falling face forward to the ground with a thud.
"Gods, no!" He knelt beside his partner, turning him over in a quick heave, his sword forgotten. Owen's face had paled quickly, losing the warm, healthy glow that Eli had grown accustomed to seeing. His eyelids fluttered weakly, and his eyes were out of focus.
"Owen, stay with me, dammit!" How in the hell did this happen? Eli thought distractedly, supporting Owen with one hand while his other fumbled for thesmall hornhe wore on his belt. He tore thehorn free with a tug and brought it to his lips, blowing hard. A resounding call was sent out, echoing off of the stone walls. Each member of thewatch was required to have these pins on their person at all times on patrol; it allowed them to contact the nearest Station of theWatch and gave their position, cleverly enchanted by the 58th Post's best spellcasters for maximum volume.
Eli looked at his partner's wound critically. If the clerics arrived fast enough, they would be able to save him despite the grievous injury. Owen was losing blood fast; he needed to find a way to staunch the wound. Eli set Owen gently on the ground and stood, searching for a makeshift tourniquet.
In his panic, he never sensed the presence behind him until a voice behind him spoke gently into his ear, almost tickling him.
"There will be no help for you."
Eli's eyes flicked toward his sword, lying on the ground a few feet away. Too far away, too late to move. Pain erupted in his lower belly like a gushing volcano, as the elf's blade entered his body. Eli had been cut before, even stabbed, in his time on the job. The worst injury had been inflicted by a petty pickpocket, cornered and surprised at his own nerve. This pain was nothing like that, it engulfed it, overwhelmed it in severity. The strength in his legs dissipated as Eli saw that he could see the shape of the dagger protruding from his gut, wearing his own flesh like a second skin.
"You're number one hundred," the chilling voice assured him, and when the dagger slid sideways, cutting up skin like swiss cheese, Eli was almost glad. The pain was replaced by a dreamy fogginess. His vision turned first red, then mercifully, black.
XOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"He's coming to…"
When he opened his eyes, painful bright light seeping through the cracks in his eyelids, forcing him to blink rapidly. Out of focus faces swam above him, and Eli rubbed his eyes slowly, trying to rid himself of the dots floating in his vision. Slowly, rationality returned to his world, and he could make the shapes above him.
He was in a hospital bed on the second floor. From the window he could see people walking here and there out on the street. His left side hurt when he shifted his weight, and he grimaced, but didn't realize the reason why. Understanding would come later.
"Mina?" he croaked, his throat dry and his voice hoarse. "Sarah?"
"Eli! We were so worried!" A gentle hand, blessedly cool, stroked his cheek. He took her hand and kissed her fingers, looking up into his wife's face. She had shoulder-length black hair and beautiful brown eyes, which were filled with concern at the moment.
Sarah, who was only eight years old, began to cry. Wordlessly, Eli pulled her closer into a one-armed embrace; lending what comfort he could give. She buried his head against his chest and sobbed quietly, while he patted her back gently.
"It's ok, Daddy's ok," he said, kissing the top of her head. He looked up at Mina, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Where am I? How long have I been out?" Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle rearranged themselves into memory, and he was filled with sudden, terrifying panic. "What happened to Owen!"
"You've been in the hospital for three days," Mina said, steeling herself and pushing the threat of tears away with an effort. For some reason, that frightened Eli even more. "You were in shock from the blood loss, and the clerics thought that you wouldn't make it." She sniffed, allowing herself to wipe a tear from her eye. "I was so scared."
"What about Owen? What happened to him?" Eli repeated, though he feared he already knew the answer. At his question, Sarah's sobbing increased, her head shaking in sorrow.
"I should answer that, Mina," said a voice from the doorway. Eli looked up and saw Commander Ruiz, the head of the 58th Post. Ruiz was fairly new to the position, having risen to commander only two years before. However, he had proved himself as both loyal and fair during his service on the watch.
Thecommander stopped at the foot of his bed, and Ruiz spoke slowly, trying to sort out his thoughts. "I'm not sure how much you remember. I don't know all the details myself, I'm counting on you to fill in the blanks. But as far as what our mages can discern, this is what happened three days ago…"
"Fourteen soldiers from the 58th Post were patrolling the city on that day, each in groups of two. I'm sure you know many of the men who were out on that day. Starting at 1:57 in the afternoon, each group was attacked, one by one. Judging from the injuries, the assault was committed with a curved dagger, about five inches in length, and each cut was performed in the same manner: quick entry from below lungs, slow exit through flesh. Of that sixteen… only you survived the attack. I'm sorry. Owen's gone."
So that was it then: Owen was dead. His partner for nine years had been murdered in the street. Owen, who had had no wife and no children of his own, had been like family Eli; he was family in fact, being Sarah's godfather. With all of things they shared: their dreams, their fears, their goals, all of that gone.
Eli wanted to scream at the man: "Sorry? Is that all you can say! He was on the verge of such an outburst too, until he saw that Ruiz was just as upset as him. The Watch had been like another family, a brotherhood, and Ruiz had surely felt as close to Owen as he. His eyes were downcast, tracing the patterns of his sheets, and his fists were clenched. Maybe he expected to be shouted at.
"Who was the killer?" Eli asked instead, his voice cold. Mina looked at him with a worried look, reading the undercurrent of emotion in his voice, and took his hand slowly. He allowed her, giving her a quick, distracted nod, before looking back at Ruiz. But it was Lord Olion who answered him.
"I've appeared at the Lords' Court yesterday, to request for their help. It was only until this morning when they summoned me. The killer is an half-elf by the name of Regris Reldel. (Not an elf at all, Eli thought.) He was a citizen of Waterdeep for thirteen years, before leaving abruptly. We don't know where he went after that."
"Any family in the city?" Eli asked, approaching the problem as a soldier. Thinking with his heart hurt too much, held too much sadness right now. Protocol, rigid and unchanging, didn't allow tears, and he hid behind the badge.
"Used to be. His human father abandoned both his wife and son, and was living alone on the East Side until his death a few years ago. His elven mother left with him, and she never returned. If there's anyone else, they're not in the city."
"It just doesn't make sense," Ruiz added. "Since he's lived here, he should know that the 58th Post has never wronged anyone, or at least, not him. But since noother watchin the city was targeted, we have to assume there's some connection. The only record of Reldel that we have is a petty theft charge, and the fine was paid promptly."
Eli sighed and flopped back into bed, feeling sudden and uncharacteristic depression. No leads and no motives. There had to be preparation involved with the speed and execution of the attack, it was clearly premeditated. Was there an outside party involved.
Ruiz guessed at his thoughts, acting on the intuition a commander must rely on when dealing with his men. "Listen,I didn't come here to charge with an investigation. I already havethe city's best trackers working on picking up his trail. But perhaps if you are up to it, you could fill in the details of the attack?"
"He needs his rest!" Mina broke in, her brown eyes gleaming with anger. Ruiz looked shocked, then almost ashamed of himself. "How can you ask something like that after the trauma he's just-"
"It's ok, Mina," Eli interrupted. "If it can help at all in finding Owen's killer, then I will help in any way I can. But please, could someone…?" His eyes flicked to Sarah imperceptibly, who was still holding her head against his chest. It wouldn't be right for her to hear how her godfather had died.
After a cleric entered and escorted Sarah out of the room, making some vague excuse for her exit, Eli began the story. He described Reldel appearing from the shadows, the dagger he used, as well as what the half-elf told him before stabbing him. At this, Mina paled, and Ruiz's eyes hardened.
"Number one hundred? That can't be true... can it?"Mina asked, her eyes wide and frightened.
"No reason not to believe it. It only gives me some insight into what kind of person we're dealing with." Ruiz said, standing. "I'll have my men check all of the armories in town looking for that dagger. Take care of yourself." He nodded to Eli, before stepping out of the door. Then he was gone.Eli looked at Mina slowly.
"They won't find him," Eli said, when the sounds of the commander's footsteps had faded away.
"Eli? What makes you think that?"
He shook his head slowly, staring at his hands. "Just a feeling. This half-elf, if he has killed one hundred people, knows how to avoid the authorities. After all, if he could get into the city undetected, he can leave just as easily."
"You don't know that. He's never had the entire force of Waterdeep hunting for him before," Mina said stubbornly. "The Lords of Waterdeep are involved."
"If I had died,the Lordswouldn't even know he was here, or how he had gotten inside. I'm beginning to wonder if I was spared by the Gods… or if he let me live, to taunt us. To say, even if we know he's here and what he did, we still won't be able to catch him."
"Don't think like that, Eli. The clerics said that you were cut exactly like all of the…others. It's a miracle that you're still alive."
"I can't help thinking, though. Everything has a reason, a purpose, doesn't it Mina?"
Mina nodded. "That's what they say."
"What's my purpose? Why did I alone survive, when everyone else died? Why did Owen die? Why did I live? I refuse to believe that's just the way it is, just another roll of the dice."
"So what do you believe?" Mina asked, her voice in a whisper. Already she had begun to suspect, and he went on.
"For whatever reason, I'm still alive. But I can't feel alive knowing that this guy will get off scot-free with what he did. With who he killed. I feel… I believe that I'm alive for a reason. There's a choice here. I can either thank the Gods that I still draw breath, take a little vacation, cope, and try to move on, or…"
"Or?" She dreaded the words that would leave his mouth next, even though she knew they must come.
"Or I can try to make sense of this my own way. Bring him to justice myself."
"You don't have to do anything like that, Eli! You heard your commander- he's working on this matter personally, and they didn't come to you for help! Why do you…" She broke off, burying her face in her hands, yet Eli knew what she would say all the same. Why do you have to get involved in something like this? Her words seemed to match what the voice of his rational mind was saying inside of his head.
Reason is frequently outmatched by passion.
"I wish I could explain why, Mina. I feel... a sense of duty. Don't I owe Owen at least the attempt to find out who his killer was? Wouldn't he do the same, if our positions were reversed?"
Mina raised her head, and now he saw that she was crying. Her voice was steady nonetheless. "That's not the case. You're alive, he's not. Please don't leave."
There was so much to say. He wanted to stay with her, to keep her safe, to reassure her. Then again, what if Reldel came back? Took more than just his life, but the lives of Sarah and Mina as well, just for the fun of it? So he settled by keeping silent.
She rose abruptly, tears falling down her cheeks. "Alright, if that's how it is," she said in a slow, measured tone." She walked to the door, and as she put her hand on the doorknob, she looked back. A ghost of a smile was not in her face, but in her eyes. "Make sure you're back before next month, or you'll miss Sarah's birthday."
"I won't miss it. Never in life," Eli said with a smile of his own. She was so beautiful standing there that it was almost too much to bear. As if she sensed his thoughts, she smiled and left the room, leaving him with his thoughts. I'll come back in one piece, and when I return, I will bring that man with me.