Balder's Gate was alive with the buzz of voices as the people went about their lives under the late afternoon sun. Lorelai strolled quietly down the street, head bowed low, her mind a mess of emotion. The only respite was the beginning of a poem that had formed, something about dealing with loss with the planes as a motif.
"Aye, I know that look." Came a gruff voice below her. "Will ye say what ales ya so?"
Turie, her friend, and the mother of one in Chorrol's circle. She was a dwarf a few decades older than her. She wore a simple, yet stylish, green and white dress, much better than the brown dress Lorelai was wearing, or so she thought. Her hair was much like hers, except she wore it loosely where Lorelai had the fronts of hers wrapped around her head in a braided half-up.
"We had a fight this morning." She said, keeping her gaze forward. "It got ugly, hurtful."
Turie hissed through her teeth. "Ah, I'm sorry, me dear. Men can be such dogs at times."
She stretched her mouth into the shape of a smile. "If we are to be honest, he wasn't the dog."
"Oh. Aye."
Lorelai rubbed her temple as her performance that morning bore new, shameful information.
"He was trying so hard to be reasonable. It merely fanned the flames all the more." She continued, shaking her head. "Gods above, I sometimes wish he would yell at me. Tell me I'm being an arse, if that is what I'm being. Instead, he's just so..."
She let out a long breath. As she spoke, she heard just how ridiculous she sounded.
"Ya needn't blame yerself." Said Turie softly.
Lorelai laughed. "No? You cannot tell me being mad at your husband because he doesn't yell at you is even close to rational."
They fell silent and continued along the path. Not that she could blame Turie. What does one say in this instance. The school came into view before them.
"'Tis one problem I don't have with Toram." Said Turie as she smiled fondly.
"Yet you love him still?"
She shrugged. "Aye, might as well. Go the full stretch, as it were."
Lorelai smiled dully. "I admire your pragmatism."
As they stopped a fair distance from the entrance of the school, Turie looked up at her.
"Ya still love Rillick."
She rubbed her shoulder nervously. "I've been asking that a lot, and I think the answer is yes. Though I am trying to remember how that works." She looked at the sky in thought. "Perhaps the only real problem we have is we got married so young. It's..."
Before she could continue, she heard the sound of hooves drawing closer to her. When she turned around, she saw Shaan atop Highlander heading straight towards her, accompanied by two other guards. Her face turned pale.
"A moment." She said to Turie, and didn't even wait for a reply and ran towards him.
As she approached, Shaan dismounted and walked slowly up to her.
They stood apart from each other, silent, for no words were needed. Shaan's grim expression was enough.
"Is he alive?" her voice was shaken.
"He was taken to the temple."
Another silence. After so many incidents, Lorelai had started to become more relaxed with Rillick's dangerous job. She began to trust in his abilities and his caution. Now, the very day she begun to learn to let her guard down...
"How?" she asked simply, though truthfully she want the answer. She didn't know what else to say.
It took some time, but Shaan took a deep breath. "We got tidings of an orc raiding party attacking some trade caravans, but there was a third. A goblin." He looked down in a mixture of anger and shame. "Somebody blundered. I blundered. I just... the grass was long, I did not see it in time." He looked straight at her with conviction. "Lorelai, it was my fault."
Lorelai returned his determined gaze with her own. "I don't believe that."
Shaan stopped looking at her and focused on something behind her. She turned around to see Chorrol striding merrily towards them. He raised his hand in a wave, which she responded in kind.
The boy's joyous nature broke Lorelai's heart. "What do I say?" she asked, more to herself. "How do I tell my son his father's been cut down by monsters?"
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
"You need not do it alone." Said Shaan quietly.
Lorelai rose her arm and gave his armoured gauntlet a grateful squeeze. She gathered all the courage she could muster and walked up to him.
Shaan watched quietly as Lorelai knelt down to Chorrol's level. He could not hear what was said, but he saw tears begin to run down the boy's face, and Lorelai pulled him to her.
There and then, Shaan made a promise. To Rillick. His best friend and brother-in-arms, that he would protect Lorelai and Chorrol with his dying breath, whatever the cost.
...
The wind whipped past Rillick's face as he tore across the open field of tall golden grass. All he heard was his own ragged breathing. Chorrol lay limp in his arms, an arrow protruding from his chest. His arms ached as he hauled the full weight of his son.
He heard shouting behind him as Shaan aggressively dragged a large human by the arm. He sported hides and a bow and a quiver of arrows, most of which had tumbled out as he was dragged along the ground.
"Move, you bastard!" Shaan yelled.
Rillick stopped and turned, eyes blazing in fury.
"How far!" he shouted, a mix of fear and anger. "How far!"
"'nother 'alf moile, that way!" he said, gasping for air. "Herrasil, talk to Herrasil. 'e'll 'elp ya boy."
Rillick once again broke into a sprint. He ran even faster than before, or as much as the dead weight he carried would allow. He rounded a small hill and saw a large, two-story house with a thatched roof.
On the porch by the front door, Magrie looked up from the beginnings of her woven basket. Across the field in the distance, she saw a figure rushing towards them. Though it moved in an awkward fashion, it was too fast to be one of the creatures. As it got closer, she noticed it seemed to be carrying something.
Her eyes shot wide in shock. She leapt up and ran for the door.
"Father!"
Rillick cried out in frustration and heaved Chorrol back upwards. As the house drew closer, he fought desperately through his waning strength. He noticed someone run into the house. Shortly after, an old man in a dirty white jacket emerged strode into view, flanked by four others, a woman of silver years and three much younger.
He was near them now. All he could hope was they were decent people.
"Was he bit?" asked the old man.
"Shot by your man."
"Ortus?" exclaimed one of the people behind him.
"He said find Herrasil. Are you he?" he pleaded. "Help me. Help my boy."
"Get him inside." He ordered without a moment's hesitation.
Rillick stood stunned. He was not used to such instant generosity.
"Inside!" Herrasil snapped, shaking Rillick out of his state.
As he and the others stormed inside, Herrasil began barking orders.
"Pitra, I need my full kit. Magrie, willow bark, hyperricum. Grab everything. Towels, sheets, leeches. In here."
Rillick followed him through the house to a bedroom. He tore off the bed's covers and Rillick lowered Chorrol onto the bed and nearly sighed in exctasy from the release of such a burden.
Herrasil placed the palm of his hand of the arrow's shaft and looked up in concentration.
"It hit bone." He said at last.
He stood over Chorrol's lifeless body, shaking. Beyond him, Herrasil dug through a drawer and pulled out a long strip of wire.
"Take this, make a slipknot." He said, handing it to him.
"Is he alive?" asked Rillick, his eyes glued to Chorrol.
"Slipknot. Now."
He set to work, though his quivering hands made it difficult. As he did, the others ran into the room with an assortment of tools and strong smelling plants. The elder woman, Pitra, handed him a knife and he cut the clothes around the arrow.
"Is he alive?" he asked again. He felt helpless.
Pitra stepped forward and lay a gentle hand on Rillick's shoulder. "Step back please."
"Magrie, leeches."
The girl, Magrie, lay a hand on Rillick's other shoulder. "We need some space."
Rillick stood, paralysed, by his son's side, unable to move or speak. Never had he felt so helpless in his life. He was gently pulled back by the two women.
"Your name?" Herrasil asked.
"Rillick. I'm... I'm Rillick."
"Rillick, we will do everything we can, okay? But you must give us room. Now."
If any other ordered him that, no doubt he would have to be dragged out. But the unwavering authority in his voice was just enough, and even then it was almost impossible. With uneasy steps, he stumbled through the door.
Rillick staggered down the hallway of the house, delirious. His mind spun so fast it made him dizzy. He told himself Chorrol was in good hands. He repeated the words over and over in his head. adrenaline that carried him here was all but gone. Now, he barely realised he reached the outside of the house, the cool breeze giving him some small comfort.
Voices rung out in the blur. One was Shaan, and one, with a thick accent, he did not recognise.
"'e aloive? 'e still aloive?"
He rubbed his brow with the back of his hand. Shaan approached him, his eyes filled with fear.
"Okay." He said softly.
He had a rag in his hand of which he wiped it across his face. Rillick didn't know why he was doing what it was he was doing, didn't have the strength to stop him. "You have blood there, friend."
Blood? The words shook Rillick.
Shaan pushed the rag into his hands. He looked down and saw his hands drenched in blood, and it was clear where it came from. Suddenly, he felt very ill, and it was hard to breathe.
"I'll take it from you."
He held the fabric in his hands so tightly, his knuckles grew white.
"Where is he? Is he well?"
He turned and entered the house. There were footsteps close behind him. He found his way back to the room with Chorrol and Herrasil. Chorrol lay on his side and Herrasil was hunched over him with a long needle and large ceramic bowl, but Rillick couldn't see nor care exactly what he was doing.
"I take it he's your kin?" he asked as Rillick approached.
"Aye." Rillick answered. "He is my son."
"Most fortunate. If magic is needed I will need you." He stood up and turned. "What happened?"
"Oi was tracking a buck ya see." Came the thick accent of the man with the bow and arrows. Ortus, as Rillick recalled. "'e scarpered last second an' missed it. 'it 'im instead."
"We are fortunate you used the broadhead arrows." Said Herrasil. "A barbed head would've been much more problematic, but it did caused much damage. It punctured the lung. Getting the arrow out is simple enough, but as to repair the organ... it won't be easy."
"I ain't sawed 'im, I tells ye." Ortus pleaded quietly to Pitra behind them. "Not 'till 'e was on t' ground."
"Lorelai doesn't know?" said Rillick as dreaded realisation down on him.
Shaan looked up. "No, she..."
Tears trailed down Rillick's face. "My wife doesn't know." He sobbed quietly. "My wife doesn't know."
...
"Still worrying about it?"
Lorelai turned back around. Anderea watched her a short distance away. It was clear she was not as concerned.
"That deer was running from something." She said.
"A walker, most likely." Replied Dar, some steps ahead of the two.
She frowned, but made no further comment, though she wasn't convinced. If it was, then why have they not encountered any yet?
The party continued their journey through the forest. As they walked, Harley would occasionally run ahead of them, but everyone's excitement would dissipate everytime he came back empty. The light was beginning to dim, and small beams of late afternoon sunlight penetrated the gaps in the trees to the ground.
"Should they not have joined us by now?" asked Cralo, breaking the silence.
"There is nothing we can do about it, anyhow." Dar called out from the front. "No good for any of us running about in every direction."
"So what do we do?" Asked Lorelai, her patience limited.
"As we were. Scour the forest for Salpha, work our way back to the village."
"I'm sure they'll join us back there." Said Anderea.
Lorelai remained quiet. She couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.
The hike continued. It seemed as though the village was further than when they left. Anderea glanced over to Cralo, who stared ahead into nothing.
"I'm sorry for what you're going through." She said, sidling up to her. "I know how you feel."
Cralo turned her head and smiled. "I guess you do. Thank you." She looked ahead again and down. Her smile disappeared. "The thought of her, out here by herself. It's the not knowing that is killing me so." She began to choke, trying to speak through sobs. "I just keep hoping she doesn't meet Amee's fate."
At the mention of Amee, Anderea glared daggers into Cralo. The words hit her like a blow to the chest from a warhammer. She felt her hand ball into a fist.
Cralo's look of confusion was short lived, replaced by horror at herself.
"By the gods!" she gasped, and took Anderea's hands into hers. "That is the worst thing I ever said."
Anderea closed her eyes to keep her anger down. She felt herself calm. It would not do to antagonise one who is grieving. She forced a smile.
"We're all hoping and preying for you," she said finally, "for what it's worth."
"I'll tell you what it's worth." They looked up. Dar stormed up to them and growled. "Not a blighted thing. It's a waste of time, this hoping and preying." He looked Cralo in the eye. "We will find that little girl, and when we do, she'll be fine.
With that, he turned and walked back to the front of the charge. "Am I the only one what has his head on straight?" he muttered. "Tyr's arse."
Lorelai failed to suppress a smile.
Back at the village, Dall walked slowly towards the ox-cart, the reins of Highlander and Cherrykeeper, the horse Cralo arrived on. On the way, Ty-Varaz caught up with him. He seemed worried.
"These horses will certainly pull their weight, I tell you now." Dall said in an attempt to keep spirits high.
It didn't work.
"Shouldn'ta they be back now?" Ty-Varaz asked.
Dall shrugged. "The day is still young. Let's not worry yet." He looked him over, noting the somewhat vacant stare. "How are you feeling?"
He didn't answer, and walked past him.
He placed his leg in front of him, preventing him from going any further. "Ty-Varaz? I asked how you are feeling just now. I beg of you, do not belittle that question."
Ty-Varaz looked down at his arm, wrapped in a ripped up curtain and held in place with string. "It really, really hurts. Throbbin' sum'n awful."
"Let me see."
Dall knelt down and carefully lifted the 'bandage' to look at the wound. He grimaced at the sight. He thought Ara's cut was bad. The cut was wide, and deep, and his veins were a dark blue, streaking out like hundreds of small roots.
"Don't, don't touch it!" Ty-Varaz cried in pain.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He lay the bandage flat again. "Listen, your veins are very discoloured. You have quite the infection. Without proper treatment you could die of blood poisoning."
Ty-Varaz stared blankly for a time, then burst into laughter, lifting his head in a loud guffaw.
"Oh, 'ells. Wouldn'ta that be tha way." He said between breaths. "World done for, undead taken over, and Tyrador, last of Clan Glasshound is done in by a cu' on 'is arm!"
He doubled over and braced himself on a nearby fence.
The performance put Dall on edge. It was clear he was not of sound mind.
"Aye, that would be unfortunate." He said offhandedly, as he tried to figure out what to do. "We need to find some medicine. All our best remedies were used up on Ara. There's no potion shop and we've been to the herbalist but there's nothing left."
"Seems tha ox needed more than we thought."
Dall nodded. "My thoughts exactly." He put his hand on his chin in thought. "Well, we haven't been thorough enough. We've searched the stores, but not all the houses. So lets look there."
Ty-Varaz's mouth curled to a grateful smile and clapped Dall on the arm. His eyes showed one barely lucid. He had to find medicine soon.
Later, Ty-Varaz stumbled his way house to house, searching cupboards and drawers to no avail. After some time the task melted together. Until one house, which seemed custom-fit for one of the smallfolk, as he was rifling through a kitchen drawer, his hands fell on something. wooden, but smooth as silk. Through the blur that was his sight, He could see it was a tobacco pipe. Excited, he rummaged some more and acquired a single match and some strong smelling dried leaves.
It didn't take long for Ty-Varaz to prepare the pipe, and before long, he breathed in the flavoursome fumes. It tasted awful, and almost immediately, he broke into fits of coughing, but he could already feel its calming effects. He sighed in bliss, as smoke billowed from his mouth.
He cheerfully staggered down the hallway leading outside, puffing on his newfound pipe. But when he looked to his left, he saw something he overlooked. A closed door. A curved line of blood stained the floor leading underneath. Curious, he turned the handle and slowly pushed the door aside. What little respite Ty-Varaz had from the tobacco disappeared upon seeing the room ahead.
The room was no doubt a children's bedroom. Filled as it was with dusty toys and baubles. But it was the small bed which lay at the opposite wall that caught his attention. The streak of blood trailed all the way onto the blanket, pulled halfway to the floor. On the bed was chunks of flesh, and on the wall was a bloody handprint, pulled downwards.
It was too small for an adult.
Ty-Varaz removed the pipe, his hands shot to his mouth as his stomach begun to stir. He slammed the door shut and ran outside.
They had to find Salpha, and soon.
...
Rillick buried his face in his hands. He couldn't bare to face the world.
"Why did I let him come with us?" he muttered. "I should've sent him with Lorelai."
"You start that," said Shaan, "you'll never see the end of that burden."
He looked up at him with a glare. "A little girl goes missing. We look for her. simple. You said we should head back."
"It matters not what I said."
"Chorrol was shot because I was reckless and stubborn." He continued, becoming more aggressive. "It should be me in there."
Shaan tried to stay calm, but he found himself also sharpening his own voice. "You've been there, and you pulled through. As will he."
"Is that why I escaped the temple?" he said, staring at his hands. "Found my family for it to end here, like this? As some kind of sick jest?"
Shaan shot from his seat and jabbed a finger at him. "Stop it. Just stop."
Rillick also rose from his chair, and met Shaan halfway.
"A little goes missing. We look for her." Rillick wanted to stop, but he couldn't. he was too angry. "It's plain and simple."
"Rillick." A voice rung out, dispelling any tension between them.
Magrie stood at the doorway. "We need you."
Without a moment's hesitation, Rillick followed her into the room.
Chorrol was conscious, but lay crying in pain, the arrow still lodged in his chest. His breaths ragged wheezes and gasps.
"You, hold him down." Herrasil gestured to Rillick and hurried over to his side and picked up a pair of iron forceps from among the various surgical items on the bedside table.
Rillick couldn't move. He wanted to, but panic held him in place.
Shaan pushed past him. "I have him."
Chorrol struggled to turn his head, looking straight at Rillick. "Fa... fath... er... f..."
Shaan held a firm grip on Chorrol's shoulders as Herrasil dug the forceps into the wound, and pulled it open. The house filled with Chorrol's screams of agony. Witnessing this hurled Rillick over the edge.
"Stop!" he yelled with rage. "You're killing him!"
"Rillick, do you want him to live?" Herrasil cried over Chorrol's wails.
He fought every inch of himself not to tackle Herrasil to the ground. A part of him knew he knew what he was doing, and that part prevailed. But only barely
Behind him, Pitra pushed him towards the bed.
"He needs life." She said.
Rillick payed no attention to her. He didn't know what she was on about, and didn't care.
Shaan looked up. "DO IT NOW!"
Driven by the shock of Shaan's tone, Rillick surged forward and knelt by the two.
The pained cries of his son continued until the wound was much larger than before. He could see the base of the arrowhead. Chorrol slumped over lifeless.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait. Wait. Hey." Shaan stammered.
Herrasil hastily placed a hand on Rillick's head. He felt an odd sensation, like something was sucked out of his body. When Herrasil's hand was removed, he keeled over, feeling suddenly exhausted.
He looked up to see Herrasil's hand glowed a blue light. He hovered it over Chorrol's chest. The light poured from the hand and enveloped Chorrol. Afterwards, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Do not fear, he simply passed out." He said calmly.
"What... did you do?" Rillick asked, gasping for breath.
"I apologise. I didn't have much time. I took some of your health and gave it to your son."
Shaan looked at him in shock. "You know healing magic?"
"I know a little. Now." He rose to his feet. "Let us get this arrow out."
He pulled out the wire Rillick tied earlier and fed it through the shaft and tied it around the arrowhead.
"I want you to pull on this." Herrasil ordered Shaan, who joined him. "Keep it straight."
Rillick sat frozen, his hands trembled. He tried to stand, but was too weak to do so. Herrasil grabbed a handful of leaves from the table and shoved them in his mouth.
Shaan wrapped the string around his wrist a few times and pulled. The arrow didn't budge.
"Harder." Herrasil instructed, holding his palm gently on the shaft to keep it straight.
He obeyed, straining, gritting his teeth in effort. Finally the arrow burst free, launching him backwards. Herrasil wasted no time and pulled the leaves from his mouth and applied it to the wound.
The removal of the arrow was as though the clouds in Rillick's mind subsided. At last, he could relax. He felt a wave of different emotions wash over him. Gratitude, joy, anger, sorrow. It was as exhausting as surely as Herrasil's spell.
Time passed swiftly and quietly. Rillick sat on a chair beside his son, his breathing slight. It was an effort to even sit upright. He did feel some strength return, just in time, too, as Herrasil walked over and lay a hand on his head. The familiar sensation came as his health was drained and transferred to Chorrol. Rillick slumped over his knees and slowly pulled himself upright again.
"Lorelai needs to be here." He mumbled. "She does not know what has happened. I must find her, bring her here."
He gripped the back and the arm of the chair.
"You cannot do that." Said Herrasil.
"She is his mother!" he shot, as he hauled himself up. "She needs to know what happened. Her son was shot."
"And he will need more of your essence. You cannot stray from this bed."
Rillick tried to walk, but his legs buckled underneath him.
Shaan caught him as he fell. "Hey. Come now."
"I'm okay." He whispered. "I'm okay."
He half-carried Rillick out the door and dropped him into the armchair in the other room. Ortus and Magrie sat silent on the other side of the room.
"Lorelai has to be here, Shaan." Rillick pleaded weakly. "She has to know."
"I get that." Said Shaan, then thought a moment. "I'll handle it. But you must handle your task."
He looked up and frowned in confusion. "My... My task?"
"Being here for your son. Even if he didn't need your health to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk out that door." He knelt by Rillick's side. "My friend, I would break your legs if you tried. Surely you know this?" He gripped him firmly by the shoulder. "If some thing were to happen to him and you weren't here. If he..." he trailed off. But by the way Rillick closed his eyes and looked away, he didn't have to finish. "You would never forgive yourself, nor would Lorelai."
Rillick leant over his knees and buried his head in his hands. He remained quiet for a long time, as his resolve subsided. He looked up at Shaan, and nodded slowly.
"You're right."
Shaan grinned. "When was I ever wrong?" his smile faded away as fast as it came. "You know, when... when you were in the temple, the one you were never supposed to leave. My friend, you should've seen Lorelai." He shook his head in wonderment as he looked back. "The strength of that woman... one can scarcely fathom." He looked Rillick firmly in the eye. "That is what you must summon now. I mean, Chorrol, he needs that from you." He pulled him in so their heads touched. "So you steel yourself, you hear me? You have the hard part. Just leave the rest to me, okay?"
"Okay." Whispered Rillick.
The door opened and they broke away. They looked up to see Herrasil.
"He's out of peril for the moment."
"So, what happens now?" asked Rillick.
"I won't lie to you," said Herrasil, reluctantly, "there's a problem."
"Tell me."
"He's in a bad way and living on borrowed time. Your health has kept him alive, but not indefinitely."
"Ya need potions then." Ortus called as he and Magrie joined them.
Herrasil thought a moment. "Not necessarily. I need strong healing magic. Magic I am unable to harness. I remember the temple of Chuntea in Secomber had an artifact. A wand that could heal."
"Th' temple sho' up in flames a month ago." said Ortus, then gasped in realisation. "Th' tower!"
Herrasil nodded. "My thoughts precisely. They set up a sanctuary there. They would've taken it there."
Everyone stood silent. The question no one needed to asked loomed over everyone's head.
Finally, Shaan sighed, chuckled and shook his head. "I said leave the rest to me. Is it too late to take that back?"
"I hate you going alone." Said Rillick.
Shaan turned to Herrasil. "So, what does this tower look like? Draw me a map."
"Ya won't need a map." Said Ortus. "Oil take ye there. Ain't but foive moiles."
"Ortus, no." Pitra snapped.
He walked over to her. "Now, now, Ain't no toime fer ponderin' an' I'm responsible. 'ells if oim te sit 'ere while this fella takes on alone." He turned to Shaan. "Ya don't even know what t' thing look loike."
"I suppose you are right there." Said Shaan.
"Oi was a groundskeeper at t' temple. Oi do. Seen it before oi 'ave. Now we can bandy about 'till next 'arvest, or we can do it real quick loike."
Shaan smiled. "I'll take real quick like."
Upon find a small portion of his strength return, Rillick rose from his seat.
"I should give you thanks." He said.
Ortus fixed him with a steely gaze. "Wait 'til tha lad is up 'n' about, then we'll talk. Oill gather up t' 'orses."
He left through the door as Magrie approached Rillick.
"Were is she?" she asked. "Your wife?"
The forest was filled with the cacophony of insects as Lorelai and those around her walked in silence, their feet crunching on the underbrush beneath their feet. The sky was rapidly turning dark, and what little light did find their way through the barrier of the thick treetops only dimly illuminated their way.
As much as she tried, and wanted, to continue her search for Salpha, she found her vigilance constantly slipped. Her mind wandered from their task as she thought of Rillick and Chorrol. She felt a strange sense of dread when she thought of them, and the arrival of that deer, bounding away as if something spooked it, yet was oddly not pursued by walkers. Though she would shake it off as paranoid thoughts of a weary mind, it lingered still.
"It's getting dark. I say end it for now." Dar's deep voice rung out, snapping her to the present.
He drove everyone to a halt and they gathered round.
"Let's head back." Lorelai agreed.
"We'll continue our search at daybreak?" Cralo asked by her side.
Lorelai placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Aye, we'll find her tomorrow."
Dar stole a glance at Cralo, under the fierce demeanor, the half-orc's eyes betrayed a softness. He turned a gave a sharp whistle. Seconds after, Harley tore from the bushes, leaves and dried sticks clung to his skin and spikes.
Rillick walked carefully towards the field outside the house. In his hand he held his longsword at his hip, sheathed, inverted and pointed down behind him. Shaan walked closely beside him, making sure his friend was well. In front of them, two horses were equipped with saddles and saddlebags. Ortus stood with them with Pitra wrapped in his arms.
"Stay srong, all roight?" he said gently.
Rillick turned to Shaan. "Just get what you need and get out of there."
Ortus looked up as Rillick walked up to him. He lifted his sword in two hands and presented it to him.
"You will need this." He said. "Take it."
Shocked, Ortus stood hesitant before him. After some silent encouragement, he took it off Rillick's hands and pulled it halfway from its scabbard to inspect it.
"'Tis a foine blade, Mr. Rillick." He said as he sheathed it again. "Oill bring it back in one piece."
He picked up his bow and arrows off the ground and tied them to some leather on the horse. Shaan swung onto his horse with practiced ease as Ortus did the same with a little more difficulty.
With one final look behind them, they spurred their steeds onward down the path.
Rillick watched them as they thundered towards the horizon. Herrasil walked up and stopped beside him.
"Let us prey they return safely." He said. "Chivalry is one of my best horses."
He sighed, then turned back to the house.
"Let's check on your boy."
Soon enough, Shaan and Ortus slowed to a trot as they journeyed across the fields. Shaan cursed himself for his hesitance. But what was he to do? There was only two people he cared for in what remains of this world, and he dared not sit by while one of them inched ever closer to death. Now he was riding to what may be his grave on what may be a fruitless endeavor. When this is done, then he would leave. He would consider this his last act for that accursed party.
He glanced over to his companion. fat, unfit and clearly not able to handle a serious fight. It is a wonder how he has lived this long. Rillick's sword dangled lazily at his belt, he had to wonder if he could even lift it, let alone wield it effectively. What's more was the awful quality of his bow. Shaan was never an archer, save for the odd crossbow role, but even he could see how dire it was. The wood was riddled with dents and marks left untreated. In fact, it didn't look oiled at all. The string looked ready to break at any moment and looked untreated for gods know how long.
"Only weapon Oi 'ave." Ortus said suddenly.
It seem Ortus noticed his disapproval. Shaan looked ahead again. At least he had his greatsword. As long as the fool stayed out of his way, they shouldn't have too much hardship.
His arm felt like it was on fire, but Ty-Varaz felt some solace at least from the pipe he busily puffed on. But the image of the bloodied child's room burned into his mind. He sat back against the ox cart and tried to shove the memory from his mind, to no avail.
"Found some more feed for the beasts." Dall called as he approached. "An excellent quality saber," he held up the lute he held in his hand, "and I figured Gelnen might like this. Perhaps he plays." He lowered down next to him. "Alas, no medicine. You?"
Ty-Varaz shook his head and held up his pipe. "Only this. What're we doin'?"
"Pulling supplies together." Dall responded.
"No, I mean," he leaned forward. "Wha're we doin'? Folk off'n tha woods, lookin' fer tha poor lass 'n' we're 'ere. Why?"
He paused to study Dall's expression, who shrugged and shook his head in confusion.
"'cause they think we're tha weakest. Wha're ye, 70?"
"Sixty four." Said Dall guardedly.
Ty-Varaz leant back against the cart. "Feh. An' I'm tha stubby li'le dwarf with tha funny accent. See how precarious that makes me situation?"
Dall stared at him, brow furrowed. "What in the blazes are you on about?"
"I'm talkin' two goodie human city guards 'n' a brute of an 'alf-orc who's brother cu' off 'is own limbs 'cause I dropped a key. Who in that scenario ye think'll be 'anged?"
"You cannot be serious!" Dall exclaimed. "Am I missing something? Those 'human guards' have done all right by us, and if I'm not mistaken, that brute half-orc went out of his way to save your arse. More than once."
Ty-Varaz continued as if he didn't even hear him. "An' dinnae forget aboot Anderea. Offs 'er own sister."
"She was already dead."
"Then wants ta take a trip through tha abyss itself." He turned his head to Dall. "Aye, she's all thar."
This struck Dall deeply. He felt his voice sharpen. "She's having a tough time. What is wrong with you?"
"Tha whole world is 'avin' a tough time!" Ty-Varaz threw his arms up. "Seven 'ells! Open yer eyes. Look were we are! Stuck in this mess 'ere."
Dall desperately shushed him before he could literally wake the dead. Ty-Varaz cradled his bald head and winced, then pulled his hand across his face and mottled beard.
"Let's just go." He muttered and thumped the wooden surface behind him. "Just take tha ox-cart."
Dall stared at him, noting his eyes, how they focused on nothing. It dawned on him.
"You've run mad." He breathed.
"I mean it, lad. Why're we in tha middle of this village like live bait?" He grabbed Dall's shoulder. "Let's go, you, me and tha oxen. Let's go afore they get back."
He trailed off when Dall's open hand neared his head. He recoiled, but Dall reassured him with a gesture. He placed it gently on his forehead.
"By the gods!" gasped Dall. "You're burning up. Give me that." He snatched the pipe hanging loosely from his mouth. "We have to knock that fever down." He sighed and looked up to the darkening sky. "Where are they?"
As the forest began to open up, the lighter it became. as Dar and the others retraced their steps back to the village.
...
"How much further?" Anderea called out from the back.
"Not much." Dar grumbled, annoyed. "Maybe a hundred miles as the crow flies."
"To bad we're not crows." She muttered under her breath.
She plodded along, over roots and large branches, her dagger held loosely in her fingers. Her path lead right into a spiderweb. She recoiled in disgust and wrestled the string off her person. As much as she tried, some still clung stubbornly to her clothes and hair.
"'As the crow flies' he says." She scoffed to the person beside her. "I'm getting tired of all this..."
She heard a snarl coming from her side. Her blood ran cold.
A scream of shot out behind Lorelai and she spun around, as did the others.
"Anderea!" she cried, and ran towards the sound.
She drew Rillick's shortsword as Anderea emerged into view, squirming on the ground, dagger raised as what was a native wood elf clambered on top of her. She plunged it into the walker's chest, but that didn't phase it in the slightest.
Lorelai rushed forward, but before she could do anything, a horse tore through the brush towards them. On top of which was a short haired girl with a mace in her hand, raised to strike.
As she passed Anderea, she swung the mace in a wide arc, launching the walker into the air. She stopped before Gelnen.
"Lorelai?" she said quickly. "Lorelai Grimoire?"
"I am Lorelai." She said, stepping forward.
"Rillick sent me. You must come now."
"What?"
"There has been an accident." She said, dire urgency in her voice. "Chorrol is wounded. He's still alive but you must come now."
Lorelai stood dumbfounded in front of her.
"Rillick needs you!" she ordered. "Now!"
This was enough to break her from her stupor. She dropped her pack and leapt onto the horse.
"Hey, wait a moment." Dar protested. "You can't get on that horse, we don't even know her."
The girl turned to him. "Rillick said you had others at the abandoned village northwest of here?"
Everyone confirmed.
"Follow the river Dessarin south of the Goldenfields. Our farm is there. It's the largest house you find. Name's Gerron."
She spurred her horse onward and it galloped away leaving the group staring stunned in confusion.
The silence was broken by a faint moaning. Dar glanced over at the walker from earlier reached out at him, just before Harley leapt onto it and bit off its head.
Dar scratched his fur as he scarfed down the head. They continued on their way.
Dall stood before Gelnen as the others caught up from some distance behind. Gelnen took some time to catch his breath.
"Wounded? What do you mean wounded?"
"I don't know, Dall." Gelnen replied. "All I know is this human bird rode out of nowhere on a horse and took Lorelai."
Dar reached him and Dall sent an accusing look. "And you let her?"
"Get off my back, old man." Dar growled as he passed. "Rillick sent her. She knew Lorelai's name and Chorrol's."
"I heard screams." He turned to Anderea. "Was that you?"
She didn't respond. She stared straight ahead and headed towards the ox cart.
"She was attacked by a walker." Said Gelnen. "It was a close call."
Dall looked back at her. "Anderea, are you well?"
Still no response. She opened the door of the cart and climbed in.
There was a chill in the air as Rillick walked slowly out and took in the surroundings. All around him were rolling hills and meadows of golden grass shifting in the wind, vibrant as the setting sun painted the ground. What little trees there were stood tall and grand in their place. There came odd sounds of various farmyard animals that belonged to the Gerron's.
He heard the door opening and closing behind him. He looked behind to see Herrasil.
"This place is beautiful." He said, turning back again.
"My family's lived here for 160 years." Said Herrasil. "There's a reason this place is called the Goldenfields."
He didn't notice until now, but Herrasil, and all his family for that matter, had an accent typical of those from the northern regions of Faerun. It was heavy, but well spoken.
"I can hardly believe how serene it is. How untouched. You're lucky."
"We weren't completely unscathed." He said, looking down sullenly. "The plague took my wife, my stepson."
Rillick couldn't help but feel a small prick of disappointment. This place seemed perfect.
"I'm sorry." He said.
"My daughters were spared." Herrasil held his head high. "I am grateful for Chuntea for that."
"You worship the Grain Goddess?" Rillick asked in slight surprise, thinking back to his previous encounter with her.
He nodded slowly, then continued. "These people here, all we have left is each other. Just hoping we can ride it out in peace until there's a hero to slay whoever is behind this."
Rillick's throat ran dry. That hero was to be him, or so he thought. He forced his next words out.
"I tried, I..." he stammered, then hung his head. "We went to Silverymoon. There was a wizard tower there. There is no one responsible."
Herrasil stared wide-eyed in shock at this new information, but his face began to soften.
"So this truly is a plague. Then we shall wait for a cure."
"There is no cure, either."
"I don't believe that." Herrasil smiled warmly. "When the Wailing Death hit Neverwinter, many died from it, but they and Neverwinter endured."
"This is a whole other thing." Muttered Rillick.
"That's what they always say, 'this one's different'."
"Well, this one is."
Herrasil turned his body to face Rillick. "Mankind has fought giant, terrifying monsters, unfathomably powerful warlords, invasions of creatures from other planes and yes, even nation-wide plagues. Some far worse than this one. Every time, we get our behinds kicked for a while, then we bounce back. This is simply the world we live in. It's dangerous, sometimes deadly, but we have always endured."
Rillick looked in his eyes. The sun washed on his gentle face. That optimism shone through brightly through his own darkened soul. At that moment, he would give anything to feel that hope again. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not. He looked away.
"I wish I could believe that."
They stared out at the horizon and Rillick's eyes lay on a spot in the distance, coming towards them across the field at great speed. As it drew nearer, Rillick could see it was a horse, and on top were two figures.
He knew exactly who she was.
By the time Magrie and Lorelai reached them, Lorelai leapt off the horse and ran towards them, tears streaming from her eyes. Rillick caught her and held her tight, until she pushed past him and into the house.
Everything sped by in a blur. Before long Rillick found himself standing over his wife as she lay on the bed beside Chorrol's form, her other hand held tightly in his.
"My little boy." She wept. "My little boy. It's okay. Mother's here. You'll be okay. We'll make you okay."
"I'm sorry." Was all Rillick could think to say.
She continued to repeat those words over and over again, and Rillick silently did the same. He will make him okay. He had endured too much to lose his son from a simple accident. Then and there, he truly felt that not even the forces of hell itself could stop him.
Later, as the sun settled into the hills and valleys beyond, Rillick slumped forward as Herrasil finally released him. The old healer carefully guided the orb of blue energy over Chorrol and gently pushed it into his chest. The room darkened as the light disappeared inside.
Rillick tried to push himself from the chair, but his legs could not find the strength to support himself. Lorelai rushed to his side.
"Slow, slow. How many times has he done that to you?" she asked.
"Two. Only two."
She walked him down the hallway into the main room. Herrasil had gone ahead, and now approached them with a mug of water in hand. Rillick gratefully accepted it and drank it down. The cool liquid made his head spin and he felt some small part of his strength return.
"Okay, it is clear to me," said Lorelai, "when Shaan returns with this other man..."
"Ortus."
"Ortus. The fool who shot my son."
Herrasil fixed her a hard stare. "Madam, it was an accident."
"I'll consider that. But for now he's the fool who shot our son."
Rillick had to wonder if she would've been as harsh to the man if he saw the great guilt that shrouded his eyes. Then again, he thought, it was Lorelai.
"Lorelai, they're doing everything they can to make it right." He said.
She gave him an impatient smile and turned back to Herrasil. "As soon as they get this item back you can perform this ritual?"
"It's not even that." Said Herrasil. "A simple flick of the wand, nothing more."
"Okay." She looked down, relieved. Then her brow tightened. "Can't you simply use your own magic to heal him? You are a healer, after all."
"Well, yes, in a sense."
She rose her head slowly. "In a sense?" she said, coldly.
Rillick rose to his feet and placed a hand on Lorelai's shoulder. "My love, we do not have the luxury of choice. We're lucky to have even found a magic user."
"I understand that. But, I mean, you are a healer, yes?"
He paused, an unreadable expression on his features. "Yes madam. I worked at the Temple of Chuntea in Secomber before my retirement."
"The temple?" light returned to Lorelai's eyes. "So you're a cleric?"
Herrasil shook his head grimly. "No, madam. I was the gamekeeper for the local woods."
"How many arrows have you pulled out of people before?" said Lorelai slowly, with a sharpness to her tone.
"Two." He replied. "One from your boy."
"And the other?"
"From one of the mayor's hunting hounds."
Lorelai stared at him, horrified. Rillick started feeling very weak.
"But... the magic-"
"Was self-taught." Herrasil finished. "I know that and Cure Minor Wounds."
"I have to sit."
Rillick collapsed into his chair, and almost to the floor, but Lorelai caught him and held him upright.
"Completely in over your head, aren't you." Lorelai snapped.
"Madam," Herrasil stated calmly. "Aren't we all?"
...
As the eve reached twilight, Shaan and Ortus inched their way towards the tower, heads low. They stopped behind an upturned wagon, the growls and moans of walkers filled the night air. There must've been hundreds, from the sounds of it. Shaan took one hand off his greatsword and gripped the edge of the wagon.
"Okay," he whispered. "Lets take a look."
Ortus nodded, and they slowly peered over, then immediately ducked down again, backs against the wagon. The way before them was amass with a dense sea of walkers. Shaan and Ortus glanced at each other, shocked.
After a minute of heavy breathing, Ortus calmed enough to talk. "See that tower 'cross t' way?"
Shaan sat up and glanced over his shoulder and over the wagon. past the crowd of rotting flesh sat a hill with a tall stone watchtower. He shot a glare at Ortus. "That's where we have to get to?"
Ortus looked down in defeat. "Aye."
He looked back to the tower. How on Toril were they going to get there? He looked around, searching for something, and his eyes turned to the militia barracks not far from them. A single unlit torch jutted from a sconce beside the battered in door.
An idea formed in his mind.
...
Cralo glared, eyes glistening.
"I won't do it." She snapped. "We cannot simply leave."
Dall's eyes fell downward to the gravel beneath them. The day was nearing an end and not even a hair was found of Salpha. He grew weary, and didn't have the strength to argue.
"Cralo, the party is scattered and weak." He said.
"What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen."
Anderea stepped forward. "If Salpha found her way back and we're gone, that would be awful."
Dall opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. Thankfully, Dar strode over.
"Okay, we ought to plan for this." He grunted. "I say tomorrow at dawn is soon enough to give us a chance to erect a big sign, leave her supplies." He turned and gave Cralo meaningful gaze, then back to the front again. "Harley and I will stay here tonight, stay with Ara and the other one."
"Eevee." Dall responded, but Dar just shrugged. "And if they are staying I'm staying too. They're my oxen, after all."
Cralo looked between the two, shocked, and smiled. "You both have my eternal gratitude." She choked.
Behind her, Anderea shook her head, then shrugged and looked up at her. "So will I."
All this time, Gelnen stood silent, fiddling at the frays of his shoulder cloak. He silently admitted he wanted to leave, but in the throes of courage being thrown about...
"Well, if you lot are staying, then-"
"Not you, Gelnen." Dall rose his hand to silence him. "You will take Cherrykeeper."
"Wait, me?" Gelnen stood dumbfounded, glancing at the grey horse and back to Dall. "Why is it always me!"
"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on." Dall ordered. "But most important, you must take Ty-Varaz there. This is not optional." He gestured to the dwarf leaning weakly on the ox cart. "That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious disease. Get him to that farm. See if they have any medicine. Because if not, I make no jest, Ty-Varaz will perish."
As soon as Dar heard this, he ran over to his pack laying among the rest of their inventory. "Why wait now to say something?" he pulled out a large burlap sack from the front. "I got some stuff here what I got from my brother." As everyone stared at him, mouths agape, Dar rummaged through the sack's contents, holding up various narcotics. "Let's see. Mist cheese, don't need that. silkroot, no. Huh, he's still got some of that oddly coloured haepthum from that alchemist Walthus. Here we go!" He pulled out a small vial of greenish yellow liquid. "A restoration potion. Not the lesser stuff neither. He held onto it just in case the drugs got too much."
...
Shaan tore through the drawers of the barracks' front desk, the torch he acquired from the front rested on its surface. Ortus stood at the doorway, eyes fixed on the walkers ahead.
At last, Shaan found what he was looking for. A flint and steel. He picked up the torch and stalked out the building towards a house nearby to the tower, using crates, barrels and fences as cover. Ortus followed and realisation slowly dawned on him as to his plans. Shaan struck the steel over the torch and it burst into flame.
He pocketed the flint and steel and picked up the torch. With a quiet grunt of effort, he hurled it at the hut. It bounced off the thatch roof in a spray of sparks. He darted back to their original position, and minutes later, the house was ablaze, filling the night sky with black smoke. This got the attention of the horde and they slowly shambled over to the roaring fire. Once a significant number of walkers were distracted, they sprinted over to the tower and slammed the door shut.
...
"We cannot wait much longer."
Herrasil stood over his wife as she assessed Chorrol. Rillick paced back and forth behind them. They had just noticed the smoke rising in the distance, in the direction Shaan and Ortus had gone. He grew more anxious every step he made. His hand grabbed Herrasil's shoulder more forcefully than either would've liked, but his mind was racing.
"Drain me some more." He said. "Whatever he needs. Then I will go."
Lorelai shot to her feet. "Go? Go where?"
"He said five miles. They should've been back eons ago and that smoke is growing. Somethings gone awry."
Lorelai's cold glare could stop an army in their tracks. "Are you mad? You are not going after them."
"Rillick, listen to your wife." Said Herrasil over his shoulder.
"If they got into trouble..."
Herrasil turned and gave him a stern stare. "You are in no shape to do anything about it. You're health is very low. You're barely on your feet. You wouldn't even make it across the field."
Rillick swayed slightly. His legs trembled in effort to keep him standing. "If something happened I must go."
"No, your place is here." Lorelai snapped, stepping in front of him to bar him access. "If Shaan said he'll be back, he will be back. He's like you in that way."
Rillick grimaced. "I can't just sit here!"
"That is precisely what you will do!" she shouted back. "If you must prey or cry or say the gods are heartless, you go right ahead, but you will not leave, Rillick." She let out a breath and her voice softened almost to a whisper. "Chorrol needs you here, and I cannot do this on my own. Not this one. I can't."
She was right, of course. Shaan always told him he had trouble sitting still. He backed away from Lorelai and the door until his back hit the wall, eyes fixed on his wife, tears shining brightly in her eyes. It took all of what little strength he had left to seat himself in the chair by Chorrol. Even now, every fiber of Rillick's being cried out, demanding he act. But he fought against his instincts. If nothing else, then for the sake of his family.
...
Shaan bounded up the tower's spiral staircase, skipping multiple at a time. When he reached the top room, he wasted no time tipping crates over and pulling items off the shelves. Ortus joined the search minutes later, breathing heavily. The state of the man was pitiful, Shaan thought. Every time he laid eyes on him, rage built up beneath him. Accident or no, he harboured a silent hatred that burned in his heart.
Eventually, Shaan felt something thin and smooth on on of the high shelves. He brought it down and saw he was holding a wand. He held it up to Ortus, who nodded. They had what they came for. Now they just had to escape.
They started for the door, but Ortus stopped, turned, and scooped up a potion from the debris. He leveled it with his eyes.
"Cure Critical Wounds." He said with a grin. "Be off me 'ead if Oi left this behoind."
"Good eye. Let's go." Said Shaan urgently.
Shaan grabbed his greatsword by the edge of the stairs and the two tore down the stairs, stopping at the door. He hovered his hand over the door's handle and looked at Ortus, who nocked an arrow.
He threw the door open, and right into the path of a horde, journeying to the inferno to their left. It was larger now, and began to spread to other buildings. Unfortunately this attracted a lot more than anticipated. Several among the crowd noticed, and turned their attention, to them.
"Oh, bloody 'ell." Ortus gasped.
"Come on!" Shouted Shaan, and bolted away from the fire.
Their path lead them past more of the creatures, who began their pursuit. Shaan took the lead with Ortus beetling behind them. They ran down a narrow alleyway. Moments later, walkers crowded into the alley after them.
"Stay with me!"
The alley emerged into back streets and a small flight of stairs. He bounded up them into another group. Immediately he leapt back to the lower area and ran down the street. The flames now rose over the houses' rooftops.
"Come, come! This way!"
Shaan and Ortus burst out into the main street. The fire now consumed multiple houses and was heading their way. A thin layer of smoke filled the air around them. To make matters worse, walkers closed in on them from behind, and a huge mass down the street barred their way. The only direction they could go was towards the blaze.
Shaan looked around, desperate for anything, then he saw the building adjacent to him. An inn. He raced towards it. In his panic, he throttled the door, but it didn't budge. He looked down. It was locked with a padlock.
Ortus shot an arrow at a walker that neared them. They now surrounded them from all sides. Shaan took a step back and raised his greatsword.
"Okay! Stay back!"
He swung the large blade down hard. It hit firmly on the lock, but it only bent slightly. He hefted over his head and struck it again. It shifted outward and this gave him resolve. He prepared to strike again, beads of sweat rolled from his brow from the heat of the ever approaching fire.
He yelled and swung his greatsword with all his strength, and the lock ripped off the door in a spray of splinters. He threw himself through the now unbarred door, followed closely by Ortus. They heaved a nearby table up against the entrance just as the door and windows buckled against the weight of thousands of walkers.
"Damn it all!" Shaan shouted, pounding his fist into a table.
They were safe. For now.