So with that over and done with, it looked like this: I was now the sworn enemy of some guy who didn't even know me and was supposed to be on my side, a bunch of magic-users had tried to rob or kill or free the Waterdhavian cure creatures, and now I was on a bounty hunt for those same creatures, who had fled into the city. Needless to say what really interested me in all that was the identity of the people who attacked Aribeth and the others – and not to mention what their motives were. At that point my best guess was that some band of desperate idiots had decided that it was a good idea to steal the creatures and fabricate a cure the Wailing on their own. Yes, I realize how stupid that sounds.
Upon exiting the Hall of Justice, I plopped down on the stone steps and stared out at the city core. Obviously, the creatures weren't going to be right smack dab in the core, as the militia would have already found them by now. I mean how do you miss a brain on legs? Or a six-foot snake that talks? I briefly wondered where the other four people summoned by Aribeth were lurking, and took the copper coin I'd just received out of my robes. When I looked down at it, all four creature engravings were still present. For a moment I imagined the coin broken and unable to do what it was meant to do, indefinitely leaving me on a wild goose chase.
Frowning, I tucked the coin away and got to my feet. It was still morning and there was thick cloudcover overhead, which made the city particularly dark, what with it being bathed in the shadows of Castle Never to the North and the towering gates and walls all around. It was perfect thieving conditions. As a matter of fact, I was quite certain that a petty thief could get a handsome ransom if he managed to get his hands on one of those Waterdhavians…
Which inspired me to visit the Docks district. I hurried through the core once again, making sure to be as oblivious to beggars and doomsayers as I had been before, and made my way to the aforementioned district's gate. The two guards posted there watched me draw closer, taking on one of their patented authoritarian stances.
"Halt!" The one on the right called out to me. I didn't stop but walked right up to him and whipped out my trusty summons letter. I held it up like a cross before a vampire.
"I'm looking for the Waterdhavians." I explained shortly as the guard eyed my letter. When he nodded, I lowered the note, "Can I ask you some questions?" I inquired. It took everything not to laugh. I had never thought I'd one day know what it feels like to be in the militia.
The guard nodded again, "Sure." He agreed. I frowned up at him.
"Care to tell me what it's like in there?" I asked, thumbing over at the district gate. The guard smirked.
"There be blasted thieves and muggers and thugs and whatnot all over th'place!" He exclaimed, "Half o' them is wrought with the plague, too." He snorted, "Not that it's a crying shame 'er anything; I say let the bastards die. Blasted scumbags." He scowled.
I blew a strand of stray hair from my face, "O…kay…" I nodded and then raised an eyebrow, "Heard any odd rumours or anything from in there as of late?" I pressed. I prayed for him to nod and tell me that he had heard something about a guy right on the other side of the gate that was in the process of getting his eyes poked out by a wild cockatrice.
His expression turned contemptuous, "Pffft. You think I go in there to chit chat, lass? Ha!" He moved to the gate release lever and pulled it, "You wanna know what's goin' on in there, you go in there!" He called to me and waved me off.
I held my tongue and walked through the gate, which was instantly closed at my heels with a loud metallic grind and an even louder clank.
I should have stayed in the city core. The Docks district was not at all as I remembered it; granted, it was never all that pretty, but neither had it been derelict. Now, however, derelict didn't even begin to describe it. In my direct sight, I could see houses and storage buildings that had obviously been broken into gauging by the deadpan gaze of broken windows and doors left ajar. Speckling the street corners and near heaps of scattered trash burned small campfires, some around which huddled gaunt-faced men or dirty old women. There were corpses in the streets, some of them cleared off to the side and some not. Rodents skittered about, darting beneath stacks of crates or splintered barrels along the side of houses. It smelt like a mixture of wet dog and decay. The stagnant lack of wind made it easy to hear the garbled shouts of men and the occasional scream or lament of a half dozen women. I could also hear the faint tune of music from a good distance off.
When the gates clanked shut at my back, a man sitting by a small fire nearby got up and took off a dead run, disappearing inside a ramshackle house a few feet away. I watched him go with a look on my face that conveyed about as much comprehension as that of a fish staring out at the world from within its glass prison. Did I look that bad? What the hell did I do? Resigning to the fact that the man was probably a nutcase, I took a step forward and kicked the side of something soft. It was a corpse.
I looked down at it and frowned, and upon closer inspection I noticed it was a soldier from the militia. If this guy was here, than perhaps there were others elsewhere in the district. Other live ones, of course. Maybe they could tell me more about this place and help me out.
I was about to move on when an idea struck me. I looked back down at the corpse. If the rest of the district could do it, why couldn't I? And it's not like Aribeth gave me any coin in advance…and then there's also the fact that I could very well end up not finding any of the Waterdhavian creatures, thus decidedly cutting my pay… I dropped to one knee and searched the dead soldier briskly, finally finding a small leather pouch beneath his shirt. There were a few coins inside, which I quickly snapped up and tucked into my own purse.
Feeling decidedly empowered by the sudden realization that I could indulge my temptations as I so desired, I smirked and got to my feet. Standing not five yards in front of me was a man with a look of terrible desperation on his long face. He wasn't moving and his eyes darted from me, to the gate at my back, to the body at my feet. He didn't look like a dirty thug, but he held a rapier in his hand – so I was unsure about what to think.
"I'm sorry…was this yours?" I asked him tentatively, motioning down to the soldier's corpse. Who knew…maybe I was 'on his territory' on something… I watched him like a hawk, positive that he'd jump me at any second; I slowly reached back for my crossbow.
The man watched my every move; he licked his lips, "No…" He replied slowly, staring at my hand, "…I was actually, ah…" He paused and offered a pained smile, "…running." He licked his lips again. He looked like a trapped animal.
I frowned, "Running from what?" I asked, though I barely had the time to say it before angry shouts thundered from around the nearest corner, heralded by a bright bolt of magical energy that zipped right by its intended target and collided with the wall of a nearby house. I watched dumbfounded as a mob of five men in red came ripping around the corner, weapons drawn.
The guy in front of me turned around and took off further down the street, followed by three of the red-garbed men. The remaining two attackers bolted for me. Caught between a rock and a hard place (namely the two crazy guys and the district gate), I did the only thing I could do that would buy me some time.
Like the nutcase by the fire had done when I first walked into the district, I ran into the nearest house and slammed the door shut behind me. Of course, it swung open again. I spotted a staircase at the back of the room, which had once been a decent kitchen, and ran for it. I clambered up the wooden stairs two at a time and dashed into the only room up there, closing the door behind me once again. I leaned up against it for a moment and found myself facing the nutcase from earlier.
"By the Gods have mercy!" The man croaked, curled into a ball against the wall at the back of the room.
Downstairs the front door was smashed back against the wall and I darted away from the door I was currently leaning up against. I backed up and started chanting one of the spells I had memorized, at the time not even completely sure of what exactly it was but positive that it would hurt. The men in red came dashing up the stairs. I furrowed my brow and picked up the pace, my incantation coming to an end just as the door to the room swung open and the two men dashed out at me.
The nutcase on the floor screamed to his heart's content as the two men and a good part of the stairs behind them were engulfed in flames, my fireball colliding with the attackers full-force and knocking them back. Not wasting a second for fear of being attacked in yet another confined area, I ripped my crossbow free and fumbled around for a couple bolts. Once they had been loaded, I ran across the partially-flaming room and towards the staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs, one of the red-garbed men was quite dead – charred and having most likely broken his neck in the tumble. The other man, however, though horribly burned and moaning, was still alive. I leveled my weapon and released the trigger; once, twice, thrice. The heavy bolts knifed past the dead man's corpse and buried themselves into the live man's chest. Wisps of blue-white condensation snaked up from the protruding ends of the bolts; they were heavily cold-enchanted bolts of Frostbite. My favorite.
The sound of metal against metal rung from right outside, bringing me back to reality. I clambered down the flaming stairs and hopped over the still-simmering corpses, then tore back out onto the streets, the hem of my robes on fire in some places. Behind me, the nutcase that had been screaming on the top floor zipped out of the house and disappeared into the streets beyond.
A few feet away from me, two men were engaged in some serious swordplay; it was one of the men in red and the guy that had happened upon me while I was robbing the dead soldier. Had the guy managed to fight off the other two attackers that had taken off after him? I found myself transfixed by the fight, utterly amazed at the skill involved; both men fought with slender-bladed rapiers, though it was really difficult to make that assessment due to the fact that they moved so fast. The man I had spoken to earlier seemed to have the offensive, and he unrelentingly drove the red-garbed man back, their swords weaving so quickly it was as though the fight had been choreographed…
Five subsequent jolts of acute pain slammed into me repeatedly, pulling me from my stupor and robbing me of breath. I gasped and looked around, finally spotting my assailant over by the corner from behind which the red mob had first appeared. He was in the midst of a second incantation, having just pummeled me square on with a volley of magic missiles.
"Oh no you don't…" I mumbled to myself and hurriedly reloaded my crossbow with shaky hands. I raised the weapon level to my shoulder and let loose as I had only moments ago. Two of the bolts hit home and bit into the man's shoulder and arm, and the third went wide. Nevertheless, I had managed to disrupt his spellcasting. When he launched into yet another incantation, I dropped my weapon and did the same.
Right in front of me, the intricate sword fight continued. The man in red was on the offensive now, and he grinned as each of his strokes chewed further into his target's defenses. He was driving the other back towards the district gate.
As my chanting was reaching its climax, and the opposing caster's was as well, I heard a cry and from the corner of my eye I saw one of the swordfighting men trip over something and fall backwards. It was not the one in red. I then realized that I lost the incantation race, for the caster ahead extended a hand to throw forth a jet of crackling blue lightning.
I instinctively threw myself to the ground, forgetting my own spell in the process. I have to admit that at this point I pretty much just closed my eyes and hoped for the best. And you know what? Lo and behold…the best is what I got.
With me sprawled on the ground, and the man opposing the red swordsman flat on his back after having nimbly tripped over the corpse of the dead militia soldier, the only person left standing was the red swordsman. And it was he that ate the lightning bolt.
There came a scream overhead and the slapping sound of an electrical current finding a conductor, and then my nostrils were filled with the delightful smell of burned flesh as the smoking body of the man in red dropped beside me like a rag doll. Thank the Gods it was him and not me.
A second later, just as I reopened my eyes, I saw a pair of boots dash by my head and I drew myself up to see what was going on. The man that had tripped earlier on and had eluded the lightning bolt along with me was running for the remaining spellcaster, blade first. I reached over and grabbed my crossbow from off the ground, then hauled myself to my feet and reloaded. Cocked and ready and I fired at the mage, but the man running for him got to him first, quickly and cleanly delivering the final blow – a deep gash across the gut. A split-second later, all three crossbow bolts buried themselves into the dying man's chest. I watched, breathless and with immense relief, as the last red-garbed attacker collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap.
The man with the rapier looked up from the body and turned in my direction; cockily, he spun his blade and strode towards me. Once again unsure of where this was going, I quickly strung up three new bolts and hefted my crossbow. I watched him approach me, warily; when he was within ten feet of me, he sheathed his sword. I lowered my weapon.
Grinning, he halted before me and extended his hand, "Dil." He said simply, "Thank you."
I let out a long breath and grasped his hand with my own, shaking one, "Malkat." I replied, "You're welcome."
