2. Swamps and Shards

"I don't like this. I don't like this one bit," said Bevil.

"That's the third time you've said that since we left the village. What in particular don't you like? The smell, the mosquitos, or hordes of ravenous swamp beetles?" Kail asked. She flicked her head from side to side as she walked, as much to discourage the biting insects as to get a clear view of the swamp around them.

"Swamp smells, mosquitos and hordes of ravenous swamp beetles are all in a day's work for the militia," said Bevil quietly. "This is different. It feels like we're being watched. I don't like it."

"I feel like that every day of my life," she snorted in wry amusement.

"But that's because you are watched every day of your life. I mean, everybody is curious. You and Daeghun go off for weeks at a time, and we don't hear from you. The next minute you're back and acting as if you've never been gone. Plus there's all your 'special' training. I know Georg is interested in your progress, but you never really talk about it with anyone. Even Amie and I..." He let his sentence trail off, the words unsaid. Kail fought down a pang of grief that threatened to overwhelm her. Amie, her wonderful, intelligent, caring friend, was gone. Forever. Desperately she cast around for another subject, trying to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Daeghun and I usually just went hunting, or to visit his friends amongst the Wild Elves," she explained.

"Hunting? For weeks at a time?" Bevil asked in disbelief.

"Well, not just hunting. He teaches me things. About plants and animals, about languages and far-away places. And sometimes, when he went off hunting alone, I'd just lie in the camp listening... listening for songs. Waiting for them to come to me," she said slowly.

"Oh. Is that something Lucas taught you to do? I always wondered how you came up with your songs. I thought they were just tunes that he taught you to sing," Bevil prompted. He tsked in frustration as he misplaced his foot and it sank several inches into a pool of rank swamp water.

"Some of them are," she said with a shrug. "Others are basic tunes that he teaches me, and I expand on them. Some I listen for. Lucas says that everything has a song, if you know how to listen for it. I think I'm a long way off that, though."

"And the singing... does it help with... you know, your temper?" he asked cautiously. She smiled, punching him playfully on the arm.

"It's not temper, silly. It's more like... well... being a spring. I feel like I can be pushed, and pulled, and most of the time I will just bounce back into place. But if a spring is pulled too far, it doesn't spring back, it snaps. When that happens, I feel everything inside me pouring out. Not just anger, but everything. And when it's over I have nothing left inside me." She felt a faint blush suffuse her cheeks as she described her reaction to her friend. Everybody skirted around the subject of her 'temper' as if merely mentioning it might cause her to lose control. But it wasn't like that at all. "Anyway, Lucas helped me to understand and identify why it happens. He said that it's just the... err... 'more civilised' part of my brain switching off, allowing me to touch something that most Humans have lost contact with. Something that Humans used to be. A place inside all of us that is neither good nor evil, but is merely raw, animal strength."

"Lucas sure does seem to know a lot," said Bevil, obviously impressed. "You wouldn't think it to look at him. He's such a benign, unassuming old man."

"He's not that old," she smiled. "He has known my father for decades though. They used to travel together, and my mother too."

"Hss!" Bevil exhaled and drew his sword as two lizardlings ran towards them. Kail unsheathed her daggers, not willing to risk losing her precious throwing knives to the swamp if they missed their mark. Bevil closed on the first lizardling, and she rushed past him to meet the second. Luckily, the lizardmen weren't particularly strong. When they resumed their journey along the narrow path, the marshes of the Mere were slowly claiming another two corpses.

o - o - o - o - o

"This must be where my father hid what we're looking for. It's the only room we haven't searched yet," whispered Kail as she peered around the doorway.

"They might be a problem," Bevil whispered back. She merely nodded. 'They' were half a dozen lizardlings crouched on the floor in front of the biggest lizardman that either of them had ever seen. He was leading them in some sort of prayer to a stone spirit, mentioned something about battle and victory.

"Do you mind if I try talking to them first?" she asked after another minute of scrutinising them.

"Hey, if anybody can talk them into leaving us alone, it's you. Remember that time you talked Lewy Jones out of telling our parents when we pushed the Mossfelds into his pigsty?" he grinned. She gave him a fleeting smile at the memory. They had been little more than children. How long ago had it been? Ten years; it had happened just after her thirteenth birthday. Wyl, Ward and Webb had been teasing Amie about something, and she and Bevil snuck up on them and pushed them into the sty. Amie... No! She had a task to complete. There would be time for tears later. She stepped forward, motioning for Bevil to stay close.

The door creaked fully open, and the big lizardling turned towards them. "A warm blood? Here?" it hissed gutterally. "Your presence offends the Ssstone God!" Kail took a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full height -- which wasn't saying much -- and placing her hands upon her daggers. She felt an air of unwavering confidence enter her as a tangible force, and in her head she chanted the mantra that Lucas had taught her. I am everything. I am the world. Nothing is more important than me. Only my words will touch you. You will believe.

"The Stone God sent me here," she said. Her voice resounded around the room, crystal clear and empowered by her authority.

"Why would the Ssstone God send a warm blood to usss?" asked the lizardling, narrowing its eyes at her. It didn't even seem to see Bevil behind her. She ignored the other lizardlings for a moment, concentrating all of her efforts on the leader. Her heart beat steadily in her chest as she regulated her reactions. She lifted her chin, managing to look down at the lizardling even though it was far taller than her. She exhaled slightly, letting her nostrils flare, meeting the creature's gaze with her cool, slate-grey eyes.

"I am an incarnation of the Stone God." I am. I am. I am, she thought. The taste of the earth, the throw of the spear, the smell of the swamp. I am He. "You would do well to fear me," she said imperiously. Behind her Bevil made a quiet choking sound, but she ignored him. She was the Stone God. Puny warmbloods were beneath her.

"Pleassse forgive us, mighty one. We will leave you in peace," said the lizardling at last with a low bow of acquiescence. "And pleassse, give our regards to the Ssstone God when you return to him." Kail kept her head raised and her unseeing gaze forward as the lizardlings hastily filed past her. Bevil stuck his head around the door for long enough to see them disappear down a corridor.

"Are you crazy?" he asked a little too loudly. "'I am an incarnation of the Stone God. You would do well to fear me'?!" She let out a deep breath, and immediately the air of confidence, the certain knowledge that she was, left her body. A slow, wide grin crept across her face. She rarely gave public performances; she played for herself, not for others. But sometimes it was nice to see the effects of her performances on others.

"Crazy? Of course. Haven't you heard the rumours?" she asked, winking at him. He snorted, and turned to survey the room. Simply put, it was a mess. Various parts of the walls had collapsed with the weight of the ages pressing in on them. Columns lay in pieces on the floor, all but one of the stone altars reduced to rubble.

In one corner of the room stood a heavy wooden chest and it... it called to her. As soon as her eyes fell on it she felt her pulse race, her heart beating loudly, adrenaline coursing through her body. She approached it cautiously, examining it as she knelt down before it. It bore the tell-tale marks of an attempted forced opening. Attempted, and failed. Obviously the lizardlings had been unable to pry it open with their primitive spears. She hastily removed the key that her father had given her from her belt pouch, and pushed it into the lock. When it clicked open she lifted the lid, the rusty hinges squealing in protest. In the bottom of the chest lay a pile of cloth and sacking, which she removed and placed across her knees. Slowly peeling back the layers, she came at last to what they protected; a fine length of broken silver. Her heart beat even faster as she touched the silver piece, and she closed her eyes. Blood rushed to her head, and she placed a steadying hand on the chest. How can a piece of silver make me feel like this?

"That's what we risked our lives out here for? Cyric's eyes, Daeghun can do his own blasted quests from now on," Bevil exclaimed loudly behind her. She startled, letting out a squeak of surprise. "Are we done here? Can we go?" he asked. She nodded. The agitation had returned to his voice, and she knew how he felt. Now all she needed was some answers.

o - o - o - o - o

Kail watched Bevil's retreating back, and gave her father's passive face a brief glance.

"He was a big help in the swamp. A little word of encouragement wouldn't go amiss, you know," she admonished him gently. Daeghun's dark green eyes bored into hers, and she shifted slightly where she stood. Even though she was a grown woman he could sometimes, with a single look, make her feel like a child again.

"Is that what I taught you? To by your actions seek approval from others?"

"No," she admitted. "But I don't need approval. Bevil does better with an occasional word of thanks. You didn't have to send him away."

"It is best not to rely too long on somebody of Starling blood," said Daeghun cryptically. "Regardless, what I have to say is for your ears alone."

"This?" she asked, holding up the silver. Her father nodded. "I can feel magic inside it."

"Odd. It's never shown any signs of magic before." Daeghun's brows furrowed for a moment in thought. "It is one of a pair found after the battle in West Harbor, long ago."

"This is the battle between the Neverwinter forces and the King of Shadows?" she asked. Lucas had regaled her with tales of the battle, though there hadn't been any survivors to verify the stories. Even Tarmas only knew a little about what happened.

"The very same. I kept one shard, and gave the other to my half-brother, Duncan. We had them examined by a wizard in Neverwinter, but he could find nothing magical about them."

"I have an uncle?" she asked in surprise. In all the time that she had known him, her father had never mentioned having a brother. Then again, Lucas had never mentioned anything about it either, nor anything about her mother, though he admitted he had known her well.

"Of sorts. Duncan is my half-brother, and, like Bevil, he has his faults. Unfortunately, we cannot choose our kin."

"So Duncan has this other... shard?" she asked.

"Yes. And I need you to take this to him, have it tested again."

"What!? You want me to leave? After everything that's just happened?" She felt her eyebrows rise of their own volition. How could he ask her to leave West Harbor? For better or worse, it was the place she considered home.

"Kail, I wouldn't be asking you unless I thought it was necessary. I suspect this 'artifact' is the reason for the attack in the first place. Our attackers were not here for riches, and they didn't care about us unless we stood in their way. I have no tangible evidence, but my instinct tells me that the longer this shard remains in the village, the more at risk we will all be," he explained.

"I guess I can understand that," she said guiltily. "It's just... I've never been away from West Harbor. Not without you. I wouldn't know where to go, what to do."

"Daughter," said Daeghun drily, "there is no youngster in this village more capable than you. I have taught you about the Mere and the land, how to stay alive alone. And don't try to deny it, because I heard him telling you stories on many occasions -- Lucas has taught you what you need to know to survive in a city. And a city is where you are going. Duncan owns an inn named 'The Sunken Flagon' in the Docks district of Neverwinter. There you will be safe."

"Neverwinter!" she whispered. It was so far away! "But what if those things, those... creatures, are still out there, looking for this?" she asked, holding up the shard.

"Do not worry. I have created a screen of activity. Your actions this evening have been hidden from sight, and I have let it be known that you are travelling the High Road to Neverwinter. Instead you will travel through the Mere, to a town named Highcliff. I know for a fact that The Double Eagle is docked there, and her Captain -- Flinn, by name -- is a good friend. Tell him that I sent you, and he will take you to Neverwinter. The attackers will not be able to find you on the open water, and if Tymora is smiling on you then you may make it to the city before they do."

"So that's it? Goodbye, good luck, see you when I see you?" she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. Daeghun raised his hand to lift her chin, searching her eyes with his own. It was a surprising gesture from his normally aloof behaviour.

"I would go with you, if I could. But the ways of Humans are often confusing to me, and I dislike cities. You will fit in far better than I. Besides, my skills will be better suited here if our attackers come back."

"I understand," she said, bowing her head. He gave her a rare, brief smile.

"Good. Now it would be best if you packed your bag and made your farewells brief. The longer you wait, the greater the danger." She nodded, and quickly embraced her father in a hug before he could protest. He patted her shoulder reassuringly, and she pulled away, turning to the house that had been her home for the twenty three years of her life.

o - o - o - o - o

Running through a last mental checklist, Kail walked over the bridge to West Harbor and wondered if she would ever cross it again. She shook her head at her pointless musings. Of course she would see it again. She was going to deliver a shard to Daeghun's half-brother in Neverwinter, then she would be back. Now, checklist.

Spare clothes. Spare throwing knives. Leather scraps for patching. Herbs for healing. Bandages for... bandaging. I hope I won't need them. Tough-as-rocks yet surprisingly nutritous travel rations. Flasks of water. Whetstone. Groundsheet and sleeping roll. Charcoal, small ink pot, blank sheets of parchment. Flint striker. Tinderbox. Flute. Small pouch of coins. This is everything that sums up my life. Well, here I am, world. Kail Farlong - slightly bewildered minstrel and wanderer.

She stopped walking to survey the remains of West Harbor, laid out before her like a patchwork quilt. Most of the buildings were still standing, though some were so damaged by fire that nobody would be living in them again. A few villagers were mulling around in the clearing, others were crying over sheet-covered bodies. She plucked up her nerve and strode towards the closest figure, throwing her arms around him and hugging him fiercely.

"I'm going to miss you so much," said Bevil. "It's not going to be the same around here without you... and Amie."

"I'll miss you too, you big softie," she said, ignoring the tears that streamed from her eyes, tickling her cheeks as they splashed onto his chain shirt. She gave him a final squeeze and then released him from her grip, gesturing at a covered body nearby. "Amie?" she asked. He nodded.

She left his side, crouching down beside the sheet that covered the burned remains of the young woman, and her tears flowed more strongly. From her belt she took one of her daggers, then peeled back the white sheet to expose Amie's head. Her eyes had been closed, and despite the burns she looked... peaceful. Kail swallowed, then used her dagger to cut a lock of Amie's blonde hair that escaped the flames. She put the lock into a small pouch, and put the pouch into the bottom of her backpack. No doubt Brother Merring had blessed Amie's body according to Lathander's rites, but she wanted to say goodbye to her friend in her own way.

The Brother was the next person she sought out. Easily visible in his vivid red robes, he stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark Mere village. He had finished tending the most seriously wounded of the villagers, and was now settling in to the long chore of healing minor injuries. With a slight pang of guilt she wished she could stay to help him. But her own healing abilities were extremely limited, and she doubted she had enough ability to do more than fix a broken leg or two. A green bard was no substitute for a priest with years of experience. Merring stood up as she approached, helping one of the militiamen to his feet.

"Kail, I'm glad I got a chance to see you before you left. I heard you're travelling to Neverwinter, and I wanted to tell you that there is a temple of Lathander there. If you are ever in need, you can seek out Dawnmaster Natrisse. Just tell her I sent you," he said as the militiaman wandered away dazily.

"Thank you, Brother Merring," she said, chewing her lip for a moment in indecision. "Can I ask you a question?" He nodded for her to continue. "Why do you keep trying to teach Harbormen about Lathander? Most of us worship Chauntea."

"It's refreshing to have somebody come out and ask that," he smiled, leading her down the road. "As farmers, Harbormen rely most on Chauntea for blessings of the land, and the growth of their crops. But Lathander teaches us about spiritual growth. When I first came here, I was impressed by the unfaltering, down-to-earth efficiency of the Harbormen. You people see a task that needs doing and do it immediately without complaint, whereas many others would still be arguing about the best way to start doing it. And I wanted to bring a little light into this dark corner of the Mere."

"I can understand that," she nodded thoughtfully, watching the deep green grass pass beneath her feet. Brother Merring clicked his tongue, then sighed in defeat.

"You could use a little illumination yourself, you know," he said quietly.

"Me?"

"I've kept my counsel on this for a long time, but since you are leaving, I feel that I can speak a little more freely. I don't believe Daeghun shows you as much warmth and compassion as a father should, and it worries me that every day you grow a little more like him. A little colder. A little less open."

Kail blinked in surprise. For once in her life she was speechless. She didn't feel cold, or closed. Just the opposite! She felt like a roiling soup of emotion. She admitted as much to Merring, who merely gave a small chuckle.

"Ah, Kail. Know that no matter how you feel inside, the face you show to the outside world is one of quiet confidence, bordering on aloof. You carry yourself as one far older, with an air that suggests you know a lot more than you let on. And whilst that sort of confidence will serve you well in cities like Neverwinter, it's not a good idea to keep yourself continually closed off to the world. If you can, every once in a while, let a little light into your soul. I think you'll find it worth the effort."

"Err... thank you. I think," she said. Had Merring just given her an insult, or a compliment? He smiled, patted her on the shoulder, and wandered away to heal another injury. The hard life of a priest was never done, it seemed.

She spied Tarmas, standing in the shadow of a crumbling house and glaring at the happenings around him. He didn't even acknowledge her when she stood beside him and glanced around for the source of his consternation.

"I'm sorry. About Amie," she said at last. "We tried to stop her. We just wanted to help."

"Not as sorry as I am," he grumbled. "That girl had talent. I plucked her from the swamp mud and taught her to use her mind... only to see her throw her life away in a foolish gesture of loyalty. Fool girl." Kail said nothing. Amie had been doing what she thought was right. She would never have been able to live with herself if Tarmas was killed while she stood by doing nothing. That was why she had joined in the attack on the mage. And Tarmas knew it. "And now look at me. One student dead, and the other gallivanting off to Neverwinter on some gods-forsaken adventure."

"You're from Neverwinter," she replied. "Is there anything you can tell me that will make my journey easier?" Tarmas sniffed and turned to face her.

"Yes. I can give you advice. First, use that head of yours as something more than a shield. Even the famous thick-headed Harborman skulls are no match for a lizardling's spear. Second, as soon as you leave the Mere, have a long soak in a bath. The creatures that did this," he waved his arms at the destruction before them, "will have a harder time following you if you don't go tracking the stink of the swamp all over the Sword Coast." She fought down a grin that threatened to overwhelm her face.

"Why do you even bother, Tarmas? You complain about the smell, you complain about the children, you complain about the weather... what keeps you here?"

"You really are a Harborman," he said laconically. "You people have the same subtlety commonly possessed by raging barbarian hordes. Suffice it to say, city life does not become me. I can do my research better out here, and if teaching a few backwater village children how to read and write is the only price I have to pay, then so be it. And now I've no doubt Daeghun would have something to say about your standing here gossiping with me all night. Be on your way, and remember what I said about using your head -- you might just survive longer than Amie."

With his speech apparently over he crossed his arms over his chest and resumed his tireless glaring at the village around him. Kail pursed her lips, but decided silence was wiser. She left him alone, but glanced back at him as she rounded the side of a house; his glaring seemed only half-hearted now, and he looked sad.

"Oh! I'm sorry my dear, I didn't see you coming," said Retta Starling, Bevil's mother. The elder woman had been marching at a fast pace and collided into Kail, almost knocking her off her feet.

"It's no problem," she said, hefting her backpack into a more comfortable position. Retta wrung her hands nervously in front of her. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, Bevil just told me about your leaving, and I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you," said Retta.

"Of course."

"You remember Lorne? Bevil's brother? My eldest? He went off to fight for Neverwinter in the war against Luskan, and we haven't heard from him since. I was wondering... could you maybe ask around about him a little, when you get to Neverwinter? And send word back if you do? Even if it's word of his death, it would be some measure of closure for me," Retta explained with a weak smile.

"Of course, Retta. I promise I'll look into it for you. And if Lorne's still alive I will find him for you, and give him your love," she promised, patting the other woman's hands comfortingly. Retta gave her a gracious smile before scuttling off around the corner. Kail took a deep breath, steeling herself. Before her was the path leading out of West Harbor, and beside it was a lone, imposing figure. Sure. One last farewell. Nothing different, she thought. Still, it took her a moment to work up the courage to step forward.

She had always been slightly in awe of Georg Redfell. He was tall, strong, and commanded an aura of authority. Whether he barked an order or made a gentle suggestion, those around him practically tumbled over themselves to obey. It didn't even seem to occur to them to question why they obeyed. It went without saying. Georg knew best. Listen to Georg, stay alive. Ignore Georg and end up as spear-fodder for the lizardlings. Lucas had once told her that Georg was a noble without airs, graces or titles. What that meant she wasn't exactly sure, but that Lucas approved of him just made him all the more awe-inspiring to her.

As she approached Georg he appraised her openly, as he would any young militiaman under his wing. She could see him assessing her, see his eyes taking in her short frame, the daggers sheathed at her belt, the cut of her clothes that lessened the restriction of her movement, the dark grey cloak hanging from her shoulders, and the backpack resting against the small of her back. When she stopped in front of him she had to resist the urge to salute.

"I don't approve of him sending you out there alone, but I can't spare a single man to escort you right now. Can you at least tell me where you're going?" he asked.

"I'm going to find that swamp-elf you're always telling me about," she said, giving him the sweetest smile she could muster. "I figure if I can actually see it, and compose a song about it, I'll have something that will put my name on every musician's lips from here to Calimshan."

Georg rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Those stories are going to be the death of me. But listen, I want to talk to you seriously for a moment." She nodded, the smile fading from her face. "The road through the Mere is more dangerous now than ever before. The patrols from Fort Locke have stopped, and I don't know why. There are whole lizardmen tribes out there just itching to carve themselves some new territory, and where you get lizardmen you get swamp beetles. What's worse, we've had reports of undead creatures deeper in the Mere. Stick to the road. Don't wander off."

"Thanks for the advice," she replied. "And don't worry, I have no intention of leaving the road."

"Good." He eyed her for a moment. "One last thing. Be careful around the men out there. We Harbormen stick together, and stick up for our own. But there's many a man out there who... well... let's just say that with the way you carry yourself, you may attract a lot of unwanted attention." She felt her eyebrows rise in surprise, and silently mouthed the words 'the way I carry myself'. "The way you walk, move, even fight; it's like you're making a personal challenge to the world, like you want it to throw everything it can at you, just so you can live through it and say 'I survived'. Like I said, that kind of thing can get you the wrong attention." Her mouth formed an 'o' of horror at his words. She didn't really move like that, did she?

"Georg, I'm not some young village maiden who's never seen the outside world. I have travelled quite a bit, you know," she said at last.

"Ha!" he scoffed. "Traipsing off to visit the Wild Elves with Daeghun doesn't count as travelling. For a start, you had him with you. And whilst I admit that I don't know much more about them than the non-Wild kind, I do know they're a mote more civilised than a lot of Humans claim to be. And no," he continued as she tried to interject, "foraying into the woods with your old friend Lucas doesn't count as travelling either. We're talking about cities here, girl. Great big things full of all sorts of dark, unsavoury, opportunistic, malicious..."

"I get it, Georg," she said drily. The man really could lay it on thick.

"Hmph. Well, good. Just trying to drive the point home." He placed both his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly to peer into her eyes. "Keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't be a target." She nodded, and he clapped her shoulder and stepped aside, making room for her to move past on the narrow road.

She took a first step past the familiar 'Welcome to West Harbor' sign, and then another. Each step became a little easier, and each step took her further away from the quiet noise of the village. But she did not look back. A clean break. A clean break is best. Cut the ties and move on. Don't be held back. Don't be held back.

Telling herself that did not stop the tears from falling.