Chapter One
The final blow was struck. The world was saved for another day but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.
"Damn it man! I can't hold this portal much longer! Grab her and let's go!" Sand yelled, a mixture of panic and exasperation shaking his usually calm voice.
The paladin knelt on one knee beside his lover. She lay in a spreading pool of her own blood and there was nothing he could do to stop the bleeding.
The walls shook, threatening collapse at any moment. Stone ground against stone as large chunks of marble and granite fell around them. The ground shook with the impact of each hurtling chunk of stone. He didn't care, let them fall then he could join her.
Sand stood firm, unwilling to allow the paladin to remain behind.
"I'm not going until you go!"
Casavir moaned, not caring about himself but unwilling to be the cause of the wizard's sacrifice. Hastily scooping Lana into his arms, he hurtled through the waiting portal with Sand only a split second behind.
Rocks fell in the spot they had recently vacated. Massive sections of marble smashed to the ground burying the corpses of their companions and enemies, in some cases the companions had become the enemy. Stone fell over those they had been with for years, burying them in a cloud of debris and dust.
Qara was now nothing more then charred remains as her fierce power had finally been unleashed. Her energy had been stronger than anyone imagined but her lack of control consumed her in the end. The flames roared around her white hot as she finally lost control, Neeshka by her side becoming an unwilling victim after joining Black Garius' side. Neeshka had not wanted to go. She had only wanted Lana's acceptance but became a living example of neglect. Zhjaeve had crossed through the portal, leaving Ammon Jerro at the King of Shadows shard embedded side. Lana had unleashed a final shard hail destroying the King of Shadows once and for all but caught Ammon in its wake. Khelgar had run through the portal with Grobnar thrown across his shoulders. The little gnome had been caught in the crossfire of the cleric and spellcasters badly injured but alive.
Casavir stumbled against the firm ground of the keep courtyard, the weight of Lana's body like a lead weight in his arms. The paladin laid the body of his love softly to the ground, gently removing Bishop's large hunting knife from Lana's chest. Sand hastily shoved a cloth into Casavir's hands to allow him to staunch the bleeding. Neither wanted to admit the blood flow had already slowed. Casavir pressed the cloth to her chest while quickly focusing his mental energies inward, closing his eyes to focus.
Sand hurriedly rummaged through Lana's rucksack, retrieving the Rod of Resurrection contained inside while Zhjaeve administered to Grobnar. Casavir prayed, searching deep inside himself. His soul plead as if his life depended on this one act. He felt as if his life did pivoted on this single prayer.
The rod glowed bright white, its healing power radiating and shining as a beam of light shot into Lana's chest. Sand gulped, holding his breath in anticipation. In the same instance, Casavir's hands glowed with the familiar warm yellow light of his curative influence. The lights mingled, weaving and mixing in a near blinding flash. The men waited, watching, hoping as others began to gather around. No one spoke, the faces all concentrating on the task before them united in one cause.
Nothing. Nothing happened. The light faded and she remained still and unmoving. The blood from her wound had stopped but otherwise there was no change. Her lips were a sickening shade of blue.
Casavir tried again, ignoring the promptings in his soul. No damn it! NO!
He had never argued with those promptings. He had given his life training to hear guidance from Tyr but he would not listen this time.
This can't be right, she must be alright. Our lives had only begun together, she… NO!"
The last word had not been just a thought. It hurtled from his mouth, ringing against the keep walls, the sounds echoing and rebounding. The paladin roared from the depths of his soul, the pain in that one word making it more animal then human. It was a sound of agony, torture and pain in the primal cry.
Oh mighty Tyr, I beg you to grant this request. She's all I have ever wanted; the woman before you is my life. I have given all I have to serve thee, I beg of thee to not take her away. Please grant me the power to restore her. Don't take her, not now. The battle is done, Thy justice has been served. I need her, I love her. Not now, please dear Tyr, not now!
The paladin knelt, hands pressing hard against Lana's cold flesh. His chest heaved from the exertion of his healing efforts but there was nothing. No healing light emanated from him and no intake of breath from her, only stillness. All that remained was her lifeless body. He felt as if the world had collapsed around him, there was nothing left for him.
Casavir sat staring at her for several seconds as his mind tried to make sense of it all.
He threw his head back, raising his hands out to his sides with palms up as if in deepest supplication but the words that spilled from his lips were not those of prayer.
"Damn you to the hells! I've given everything and NOW you leave me! I curse you!" His voice was ragged with hatred and anguish.
Sand jumped forward as if spooked, almost knocking Casavir to the ground. "No Casavir, think about what you are saying. She is gone; there is nothing we can do. The wound was too grievous and even magic and your healing powers have their limits. She would not want you to say such things, don't…"
Casavir pushed the wizard roughly away. "I know exactly what I'm saying. My whole life was given to fruitless devotion. I devoted my life to Tyr and to her… and for WHAT? Nothing!" The paladin's rage was fearsome to behold, his aura seemed almost palpable but it was not calming. The energy crackled red around him, those near stepped back as if singed.
"Did the ranger live? Do we know of his fate?" Casavir glowered, his voice coming in a low growl. His lips curled around the words, his expression held rage and contempt. The paladin was fearsome in his hatred.
The sudden change of topic caught the wizard off guard. "He… after he stabbed her, he ran. I assume he lives but…" Sand looked curiously at the paladin.
"She lived to strike down the King of Shadows but the ranger brought her down. That ranger…I warned her but she never listened. I swear I will hunt him down. Mark my words, the ranger will die at my hands," Casavir's face turned an angry, mottled shade of red, his mouth drawn into a tight line looking almost skeletal.
"I don't think I like yer line o'talkin' lad," Khelgar grumbled.
Before anyone could offer any further retorts, Sir Nevalle pushed through the crowd.
"Gentleman, now is not the time for this. Final arrangements must be made. The hero of Neverwinter has been triumphant and must be honored for her service to us all.
"Blow it out your ass Nevalle," Casavir snarled.
All eyes looked in shock at the paladin's outburst but all reminded silent.
Sand put a hand on Casavir's arm as if trying to steady the raging paladin. "I, for once, agree with Nevalle. We must give Lana her proper burial and take the time needed to grieve her. This is solving nothing Casavir. We must see to her." The wizard knelt beside her, tenderly pushing an errant strand of hair from her face. His motion seemed to have the desired effect, jarring Casavir at the tenderness of Sand's gesture.
The paladin knelt, hastily scooping her body to him. He clutched her against his chest like a child clinging to a large doll. "I will take her to the church for…" his voice caught as waves of unexpected emotion hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. Before the final battle, they had made arrangements to join in marriage. Once the fight was completed, they were to be united as man and wife before the gods and man but now… now he had to take her cold, lifeless body to never be with her again.
Casavir staggered and Khelgar's strong grip reached out to steady him. "Lemme take 'er lad. You've not the strength."
The paladin only glared in reply, throwing his shoulders back in defiance. Sand and Khelgar cast worried glances behind him but silently followed with Nevalle, the townsfolk and Greycloaks in tow.
The paladin laid her gently on the altar at the head of the church, tucking her cloak around her. His body sagged as her released the weight of her limb body. Lana wore the blue cloak of knight hood, the one she had come to cherish for what it represented. She had loved Crossroads Keep and those whom she served. The rogue had wished to remain the rest of her days serving these people, have her children with theirs and be united like family. Tears ran down Casavir's face as images of their unborn children and unrealized future rampaged through his thoughts.
Casavir stroked her face, running his hand down the lines of her cheek and neck. His fingers ran almost idly across the large silver torque at her neck. A slight smile played across his lips as tears fell unchecked. He knelt to kiss her cold lips, lingering to try to feel their warmth once more, wishing and not willing to give up. The paladin stood to stroke her hair, letting it fall around her head like a black stain on the blue silk of her cloak.
The night before the final battle, the sky was clear and the stars twinkled above them. The moon hung low like a giant glass orb shining brightly, illuminating the night sky. They had not known it was to be their last night together. If he had known, he would never have let her go.
He had called her to the battlements to propose to her. Casavir had been waiting for the braided silver torque to be completed, his gift to be a symbol of his devotion and love to her. He had waited, planning this night and for the right opportunity.
Casavir gazed into the flat wood inlaid box at the blue silk with the delicate choker nestled inside. The silver metal gleamed in the moonlight against the dark blue fabric. A moonbeam winked across the large blue sapphire that had been intricately worked as the centerpiece of the necklace. The metal had been braided in a representation of their lives intertwining with each other and uniting as a whole.
She arrived looking curiously at him. He had sent urgent summons to her office and she had not delayed, now standing slightly out of breath before him.
He had hastily closed the little box at her approach, stepping forward to grasp her hands between his own. He had pulled her close, pledging his life, his sword, soul and love to her if she would agree to be his through the eternities. With tears brimming in her eyes, she had nodded, whispering a 'yes' before flinging herself into his arms. He remembered the joy in his heart; it felt as if it might burst from his chest. Casavir had presented her with his gift, slowly opening it for her. Her eyes had gone wide and she gasped in surprise and delight. She had raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a soft cry as he told her what the metalwork represented. He had chuckled at her uncharacteristic reaction, it had pleased him to see the young girl that had been hidden under so much responsibility.
He removed the necklace and she turned, pulling her hair from her neck to allow him to fasten the clasp. Casavir could still remember the smell of lavender as he leaned in to kiss her neck. Lana had turned in his arms to capture his lips with her own. She had whispered with a husky laugh commenting that the blue was like his eyes like the gown he had bought her in Neverwinter. He leaned over and whispered, "That's what I thought too." She had chuckled throatily before turning to embrace him once more, kissing him deeply on the mouth.
"She will want to be buried on the hill where we placed Shandra. Lana will want to remain with her keep. I know she had grown to love this place," he whispered, the emotion making his voice harsh as he fought for control. He felt his sanity slipping through his fingers like the strands of her hair.
Lord Nasher stepped forward, his jaw set. He had come through the crowd, stopping behind Casavir. "No, she will be placed at Neverwinter. She has earned a hero's burial and the people have a right to give their respects and honor."
"Then let them travel here. This is her home. She would not want to be a memorial to you," Casavir spat.
"You are on dangerous ground. May I remind you to whom you speak?!" Lord Nasher boomed.
"And I might remind you of whom we speak! She was my lover and was to be my wife. I think I know what she wanted more then you. All you did was send her out to die!" Casavir shouted.
Lord Nasher stepped forward, coming dangerously close to Casavir. The paladin's fists were balled up in anger, his expression set in open defiance.
"I am your Lord and King. She was not your wife at her demise so you have no further say in this matter. Mistress Thell will be returned to Neverwinter and if you utter so much as one more word, I…"
"You'll what!? Take my sword? Lock me up? There is nothing you can do to me that is worse then this! She did not serve you! She fought for the people, not you! Lana fought so we could have a life together and now that is all gone. You dare to take that one last thing from her? From us?" Casavir raged.
The paladin pivoted, leaving Nasher stammering in anger. He quickly undid the crossed swordbelts around Lana's waist, pulling the sheathed blades from her body and leaving without a word.
Lana was moved on the morrow, her body having hastily been made ready for burial and transport first thing in the morning.
******************
After the funeral was completed and Lana's body had been placed with those other heroes that had become legends in Neverwinter lore. The rogue was laid in state amongst strangers, to become another story or forgotten as so many heroes are.
Casavir went hastily to his room at the Sunken Flagon. He had run ahead to escape those who wanted to extend their words of empty consolation whenever he walked through the streets. His anger boiled. If another person patted his arm and uttered one more false condolence he might snap them like a twig.
"She was truly a warrior. There was no greater then she,"
"Such a faithful woman. Nasher had no better servant then her."
The words rang false to Casavir. He remembered how many people scorned and mocked her in this city. Casavir recalled when she told him this was why she was determined to give Bishop a chance. Those same people who now professed to mourn her would cross the street to stay away in fear or disgust while she was alive.
He dropped the packages he had bought days before. Casavir had to wait several days for his orders to be completed and he now held them in large wrapped bundles. With the contents of these packages, Casavir could begin his search. The paladin tore back the brown wrappings, unfurling the dark leathers inside. He had sold his gleaming armor and shield days before. Casavir stood wearing black leather breeches tucked into black boots, black tunic over the pants quickly donning the well oiled leather armor. It was soft and subtle, molding over his muscular frame like a second skin.
Casavir had discarded his own cloak and now swept Lana's black woolen one across his shoulders. He then wrapped his own sheathed blade gently in leather bunting, donning Lana's blades instead. Casavir was leaving his sword, a Holy Avenger, at the Sunken Flagon under the safe keeping of Duncan. The blade had been a gift from Lana and he had wielded it proudly but the sword no longer gleamed its golden light for him. He now carried her blades, harnessing their angry flames as his own. He was no longer a paladin, no longer serving any man or god.
Casavir scooped up the final item, Bishop's old hunting knife, shoving the sheathed blade into his boot with distaste. Lana always carried it in her bandolier after Bishop had given it to her at Ember. She carried it cherishing it as a gift from the ranger. This blade had been integral against Lorne at the Trial By Combat. Lana had stumbled in the dirt and she hurled the blade, landing it squarely between the hulking man's eyes. It was the same blade the ranger had taken her life with in the end. Casavir planned on returning it to Bishop by resheathing it in the ranger's chest.
The once proud paladin emerged from his room to run almost headlong into Sand with Khelgar immediately behind.
"Stand aside," Casavir barked.
"No, not until you hear us out," Sand replied defiantly. The moon elf stood a head shorter then Casavir, but thrust his chin out. The wizard would not be denied. Both men stared intensely at one another, Casavir glaring angrily at their intrusion.
Khelgar stepped forward. "I know we can't stop ya, but at least hear us out lad. This is madness. You look like a bleedin' assassin!" Khelgar's eyes narrowed when he noticed Casavir's blades. "Those are Lana's, where's yours son?" the dwarf said quietly.
Casavir looked away, a snarl crossing his lips.
"Have you lost your senses man?!" Khelgar boomed.
Sand shook his head sadly. "Have you thought of what this means? Bishop deserves death for his treachery but this is not justice. You are…"
"What am I?" Casavir growled. "Tyr has taken everything from me and left me with nothing. I no longer serve an empty god. Bishop will pay for what he has done and I will enjoy watching him suffer."
"Lad, that ain't justice. Its cold blooded murder you 'ave in yer heart. Think about what yer sayin'! At least let us come. We loved her too ya know."
Casavir looked away, not meeting either of his friends' stares. He paused, but clenched his jaw and looking them each squarely in the eye.
"No. This is mine and mine alone to do. Do you not think I know what I am saying? Do you think I don't understand? I no longer care. I gave years of my life and it was for nothing. At least I can avenge the one thing that mattered."
Casavir pushed past the two men without a backward glance.
*****************
The funeral was now part of his bleak past, a not so distant memory. Those he once called friend had been left behind and all that lay before him was the hunt.
He pushed his anger and pain into something darker. Hate was now his constant companion, consuming his every waking moment. Now he sought only to track the untraceable, Bishop.
Casavir sought training from any that would have him as he traveled, searching for leads to the ranger. He knew it would be hopeless to storm after Bishop; the ranger was too good at hiding to allow for such tactics. Casavir understood he must learn to take the battle to Bishop on the ranger's own territory. That was why he changed his plate armor for dark, quiet leathers. This was no battle for gleaming plate; this was a battle of stealth and would be fought in the shadows. He reveled in finding Bishop and dreamed of shoving the ranger's arrogance down his throat along with his own blade.
He knew he must find any information he could from any possible sources so he began with those that came quickly to mind. Casavir sought out Malin, an elfin ranger who had once scouted with Bishop. Casavir hoped she still resided in Port Llast and set out for the small town.
Casavir entered the small pub, hopeful of finding the ranger. He was not disappointed to see her in nearly the same spot they had encountered her years before. She turned from the bar and stared hard at him.
"Do I know you?" Malin asked uncertainly as he approached.
"No, but we met some time ago. I was with Lana Thell… and Bishop."
The woman's face darkened. "I remember. Weren't you a pala…"
"I was. Not anymore though," he said, almost growling the words.
She nodded, "So what happened to that bastard?"
"That is why I am here. I am hoping you might be able to help me find out."
They each took a mug of ale and sat at a small table in a dark corner. The two talked, Casavir telling her of his search for Bishop and why. Malin sat listening quietly, interjecting only when necessary. Her face was mottled as he spoke, anger rising in her cheeks.
"I knew he was horrid but… I had no idea how far his treachery could go. I'm sorry I have nothing to give you in aid aside from… No." She stopped, biting back her words.
"Anything you can think of. Do not hold back. You are the only source I have at this point."
"It's a long shot and a dangerous one. I hate to say it but they might be helpful. The Luskans. He was an assassin or something for them, left them in the lurch and ran. Seems to be a pattern of his. They might be willing to help, 'my enemy is your enemy' if you're lucky. They would love to get his head on a pike."
Casavir nodded slowly. "I see, and then for once Luskan and I see eye to eye on something. It might be worth a try. It can't hurt. I intend to make life as miserable as I can for him. Luskan might have forgotten him over the years, but I will remind them gladly of his treachery."
Malin took a drink of her ale casting a worried glance over the rim.
"You do know what you're doing don't you? He's a killer and you are, um… were not. He won't come easy and won't fight honorably. Bishop would be more then happy to slit your throat."
"Not if I slit his first."
The elf sat back in her chair assessing Casavir. "You won't be able to find him on your own. I'm coming with you. I owe him."
Casavir shook his head. "No, this is mine alone. Bishop will meet his death at my hand. I thank you for your help and anything else you can think of. You can send word with any information to the Sunken Flagon in Neverwinter. Duncan will know what to do."
Malin nodded but did not look satisfied. Casavir stood and left Port Llast to head into Luskan territory.
Weeks passed into months as he searched for the ranger. There had been leads but quickly turned into dead ends. Word of Bishop's betrayal had traveled far, undoubtedly pushing him deeper into hiding but it was of no matter to Casavir. He would find the ranger and when he did, he would kill him as mercilessly as Bishop had slaughtered Lana. Casavir was willing to take all the time necessary to hunt the ranger, strengthening his resolve and deepening his hate with each passing day.
After traveling from one inn to another as he followed what he knew would be another dead end, he sat one evening in his small room at another nameless inn. They all blurred into each other, having lost any definable distinctions.
He sat in his now usual black tunic loose over soft black leather breeches, Lana's fiery sword across his lap running a whetstone down the already razor sharp edge. A hint of a smile grazed his lips as memories of her sitting crossed legged at his feet sharpening this blade swam through his mind. He remembered the times the flaming sword and its crackling blue mate had crossed his in practice and in the many times fighting at his side.
It was bright morning, the sun still casting its pinks and oranges across the waking city. He and Lana had left early to practice alone. It was the morning after she had given him the Holy Avenger. She smiled and laughed, gently teasing him as he relearned how to swing a blade after wielding a warhammer for so many years. The sun had been warm in the wee hours causing their shirts to cling to their torsos from their exertions. He remembered the scent of her as sweat glistened over her exposed skin and the first time he had kissed her. Her lips had been intoxicating and he craved more. The memory of the feel of her skin and wanting to run his hands across her taunt breasts as they pulled against the clinging fabric burned. His body could still feel the heat of her pressed against him, returning his embrace with passion. Lana had buried her hands in his salt and pepper hair, pulling him tighter against her. She had unleashed something animalistic in him. He fought for control, releasing her before the hunger could consume him.
Even now, a hint of a blush came to his cheeks as he recalled the first time he had embraced her. Casavir had been awkward, unsure and ended up blundering their first kiss badly. He accidentally insulted her and she had gone away angry and confused. His face darkened when he realized it was the evening after their first kiss that had brought Bishop to their party. It was that night the Githyanki attacked the Sunken Flagon, kidnapping Shandra and taking her deep into Luskan territory. Duncan had insisted Bishop become their tracker since he had previous knowledge of the area. From that night on, the ranger had become Lana's constant companion and Casavir's bitter enemy.
Casavir wiped the blade with a swipe of a soft cloth and hastily resheathed it, his resolve stronger then ever to hunt the ranger down. After carefully hanging the sword belt over the chair beside his bed, he fell into a fitful sleep.
It was dark, so dark. He ran but could never find his way. The darkness rang with an evil maniacal laughter. It taunted him, shrouding him with a blinding hatred. It cloaked his eyes, tangling and tripping him as he ran. There was no escape. There would never be an escape. He kept running hopelessly. The blackness tried to engulf him, choking him, threatening to strangle him. He tried to call for her but there was no answer. There would never again be an answer. She was gone and all that was left was thick blackness.
How many times he had dreamt this nightmare to have the same conclusion. He had woken, grasping for her to only find the bed empty, cold. She was gone and would never return. He walked in what felt like a never ending cycle of hopelessness.
The ranger had taken her. Taken her then abandoned her, his evil laughter ripping her heart out like his blade never could. Lana had chosen- she had abandoned Casavir for the arms of the ranger then been run through with his sharp dagger.
Lana had been his. Casavir recalled with vivid clarity the times they had laughed, could see her naked white skin gleaming in the night as he held her, caressing her and whispering that she was his alone. He had been wrong. She had betrayed him in the end and it had cost her life.
Casavir had warned her and she only laughed in his face. She claimed the ranger was harmless, just misunderstood. He tried to tell her of the evil lurking beneath that smirk, tried to tell her of the rabid wolf beneath the handsome stubble. Bishop was not a cute puppy to cuddle. She refused to see, thinking he could be tamed, loved.
The paladin could hear her voice calling him, taunting him in the darkness. She called his name but he could no longer find her. His name rang out from someplace far away that he could never reach.
He woke in a cold sweat, grasping for Lana. It was the same every time now, the bed always empty and cold. The dreams now ran in a never ending circle, taunting him. Casavir had been having the same dream since before the battle and before Bishop's betrayal. Lana had been there to wake him, hold him in her warm embrace and reassure him she would never run to the ranger's arms. Casavir remembered with bitter clarity the night Bishop had solidified the paladin's hatred and mistrust finally allowing Lana to see him for the monster he was. It had been the night Bishop had attempted to force himself on her before going to the Mere. It was then the ranger committed himself to the King of Shadows but they learned of his treachery too late.
Lana had been in her office late into the evening. Casavir had come in to bid her goodnight, kissing her lightly on the lips with the promise of more. She smiled and agreed to complete her business quickly.
Casavir had gone through the darkened halls, thinking only of her and the night ahead as he strolled to their quarters. He had lain in their bed, hands behind his head lost in thought. He did not realize he dozed off until she climbed silently into their bed and snuggled against him. The paladin had come immediately awake when he felt her body shaking with sobs, the sound of her crying causing his stomach to clench. He gently stroked her arm as he pulled her tighter.
"Lana, what's happened?"
"You told me, you warned me and I wouldn't listen," she sobbed. She wouldn't turn to look at him, just lay crying softly.
It felt as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown in his face. He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. He could see the streaks of wetness on her face in the moonlight through their window. She tried to turn away but he would not let her.
"It was the ranger wasn't it? What did he do? Lana, what in the hells did he do?"
She had told him everything, every painful and agonizing detail. She admitted to not trying to fend the ranger off at first. She had been caught off guard and tried to give him a chance to stop but it had only enraged him. After he managed to push her onto her back against her desk, she had taken matters into her hands.
Bishop was stronger, but Lana had always been faster. She managed to free her hand to pull the hunting dagger from her bandolier. The rogue pushed it against Bishop's neck hard enough to draw blood and back him against the wall. She knew in that instance that he would come after her, her life was at risk and she had run. There was nothing but hatred and loathing in the ranger's eyes. Knife clasped still in her hand, she had bolted.
Lana knew it had been cowardice, knew she should have run him through for his actions right then but she could not. The ranger had been her friend; she had trusted him with her life so many times and fought by his side. Her sobs came in ragged gasps as Casavir's anger mounted. Unlike his rogue, he was not blinded by friendship but by rage. He stroked her head, but hastily rose from the bed grabbing his blade and donning clothing. He would run the ranger through and take deep satisfaction in the deed.
He searched for hours, sending scouts out. All had returned empty handed. Bishop had gone that night running like a dog with his tail between his legs.
Casavir did not sleep well anymore, his dreams mocking him constantly. All he could see was how he had failed Lana- failed to protect her as he had promised and failed her so they both must remain alone through the eternities. He cursed himself for not acting faster, marrying her so they would have had that unbreakable bond. Casavir swore by slaying Bishop, at least he could avenge Lana. It was all he had left and what motivated his days.
He woke the next morning, running his fingers roughly through his hair as he looked groggily out the window. Casavir rose and stumbled to the small wash basin, slopping water into the washbowl. He warily eyed his reflection in the mirror, almost double taking at the reflection before him. It was like looking at a stranger. His face had become sunken, the cheeks hollowed. Grey and black stubble marred the once strong jawline, blurring his features and aging him. Scooping up a handful of water, Casavir shoved his fingers through his hair then slammed his hand across the mirror's surface blurring the image before him.
After strapping on his blades, he headed downstairs. The innkeeper brought his breakfast and a letter. Casavir pried the wax seal open to find Sand's neat and precise scrawl inside.
Casavir,
As soon as this reaches you, you must return to Neverwinter at once.
-Sand
Casavir sat wondering what could be so urgent that Sand could not leave at least a hint of information. He decided to leave off the current chase and return to Neverwinter. His current path had grown cold and he knew it so he headed back to Neverwinter.
After traveling for several days, he arrived at the Sunken Flagon. Duncan sent a messenger for Khelgar and Sand. Both arrived quickly.
"Thank goodness you received my correspondence. I've sent several with no response,"
Sand sighed with relief.
"What is this about?" Casavir snapped.
The wizard sat down as Khelgar seated himself with a pint of ale in hand. "Did you contact Malin at Port Llast?"
Casavir nodded curtly.
"Aye, that was a good place to start. We figured you would. Find the ranger's old haunts."
Sand cast the dwarf an annoyed look. "Yes well, I'm not sure it was such a smart move after all." The wizard thrust a grubby parchment across the table. Casavir picked it up curiously.
I told you she was a lousy tracker. I found her first. Keep looking and you're next.
There was a large hole and bloodstains on the paper. He flipped it over. The other side was the remains of a torn map of Luskan territory.
"They found this pinned to Malin's chest with an arrow. The same arrow was holding her to a tree. Bishop impaled her with it," Sand said in a low tone, his mouth set in a grim line.
Casavir's expression darkened.
"Aye, a scout came here lookin' for ya. Said if there was any news about Bishop, he was ta contact you."
Casavir nodded as Sand picked up the tale again. "Apparently, from what we could gather from this scout, after you visited Malin she put together a small hunting party. Bishop slaughtered them all in their sleep except the one who managed to escape. I'm not sure how but…" the wizard spread his hands out over the table, palms up as if questioning.
"Then I know I'm on the right track. He's running scared or he wouldn't have done something so sloppy," Casavir muttered.
"Sloppy?!" Khelgar boomed. "What do ya mean sloppy? He murdered that woman in cold blood!"
"Exactly. Who else would be so pompous and stupid? Of course it was Bishop. He didn't have to sign his name, he knew I would find out and he wanted me to. Thing is, he did this on Luskan territory. I was on my way there and they will be all too happy to know he's been there and committing further crimes on their soil. This is just what I needed."
Sand and Khelgar cast each other wary glances.
"Do ya mean ta tell us yer goin' to Luskan? Have you gone daft?"
"No, it's the move I need to make. Malin thought it might be of worth and obviously she was acting on it. She was right and she found him. And no, you can't come with me."
The wizard and dwarf only shook their heads in dismay but offered no rebuttal.
"You are not looking so good Casavir. Why not at least take a few days to rest… and bathe," Sand said wrinkling his nose distastefully. Khelgar snorted into his ale.
Casavir nodded, shoving his chair back with a squeal of wood on wood. He wondered aimlessly through the bustling city with his thoughts in turmoil. He stopped abruptly when he realized where his feet had brought him. Before him stood the graveyard where Lana had been placed.
With a deep sigh of resignation, Casavir entered the grassy field, seeking out his beloved's final resting place. The tomb was well kept but already layers of dust had accumulated across the top. He loving ran his fingers across the lid of the marble tomb, brushing the dust from the engraved words cut into it.
Lana, I miss you so much. I don't know what to do without you. There is nothing left for me, why did you have to leave me?
He sat on the cold ground, leaning with his back against the unyielding marble. With knees pulled up toward his chest, he put his face between his hands and wept.