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Chapter Three: Devastation

Life Outside the Academy Walls

I hadn't ever imagined what life outside the walls would be during the plague. We were never allowed to leave during our training years. However, had I imagined life in Neverwinter, all my dreams would not have come even close to reality. I assumed the sick to be in beds in the Hall of Justice. But no, they lay out in the streets. Flies buzzed around us and the stench of burning flesh was enough to make me retch. I emptied whatever had been in my stomach. Twice. The night sky was light up by the fires of the dead. Mass funeral pyres were at every corner. Pavel tore up his cloak into strips for me to tie around my mouth and nose. That helped a little, but my eyes still stung. "Which way?" I asked, my voice muffled by the cloth.

It had been ages since I walked these streets. Pavel looked lost as well. "I'm not sure." he mumbled.

We headed for the first gate we saw and sure enough, it was the right one. The guard let us in when I told him we were the survivors of the attack on the academy and help for the guards. "Head on in. Keep your wits about you. Things'ave been restless lately."

I nodded. "Thanks for the warning."

"Oh! One'or thing! If you see a fellow by the name of Amendel Silverhand, give him this."

He handed me a long package, which I took and balanced carefully as I would a sword. "He's got dark hair and a raven a'ways follows 'em."

I nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for him."

"Good. Thanks."

As it turned out, the Peninsula district wasn't much better than the city's core. The dead still burned and it still stunk. We found Pavel's home only to learn that his parents had died of the Plague a few days prior. Saddened and weary from the happens of the morning and the evening, we lodged in a run-down inn near the prison. After procuring two, fairly-clean rooms and a semi-hot dinner. Pavel retired to his room, claiming he was weary. I think the poor fellow was more than weary. But men can never admit when they're sad. So I sat in a darkened booth with my glass of wine and watched as the guests of the inn slowly left the dinning room for bed. I was hardly tired, though my back ached something terrible. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, like I always did when I was restless or worried. I was broken from my musings of self-pity by the flapping of wings. An abnormally large Raven swooped through the opened window and landed precariously on the shoulder of a fellow at the bar. "Silverhand! You know I hate that thing inside! Especially in the dining hall." bellowed the disembodied voice of an old woman.

Probably the old woman who had severed Pavel and I dinner earlier. Silverhand. The name had been burned into my mind. "Amendel Silverhand?" I breathed the name aloud, but it was little more than a puff of air that tried to form the name.

Nevertheless, the man spun about. He wore a black cap low over his eyes. It covered his head and ears, but there was no mistaking the color of his eyes. Fiery, emerald green, they bored deep into my own. Of all my cursed luck. You see, there's a certain thing about elves and half-elves. Namely, they don't like each other. Now to a human a half-elf looks like an elf, but to an elf, they look like humans and elves have reasoned in their minds that the gods made them better than humans and thus that is how they act. So for an elf to marry a human was a crime in their eyes and the offspring of such a union was even worse. It was easy to read the distaste in his eyes. He had heard me say his name, of course, as his ears were highly sensitive. His cap covered the tips so I hadn't known he was an elf until he looked at me. I swore and he heard that too. His face twisted into a look of arrogant-humor. "Does my fame precede me, half-elf?" he asked with a sort of smile

I felt the tips of my slightly-pointed ears burn. I fought whatever blush might occur on my cheeks and raised one eyebrow in an attempt to look indifferent to the obvious distasted in which he proclaimed my race. "Hardly. But your raven friend does."

He stood, walked over, and slid into the bench across from me. Everyone went about their own business. They obviously knew something I didn't know. He was taller than I...quite tall--even for an elf. He leaned close and asked. "And why might you know my name?"

I fought the natural urge to lean away, but leaned closer to prove that I was not intimidated. "I was told to look for you."

Noses almost touching, we had a stare-down. Everyone else in the dining hall left and the old woman owner retreated into her kitchen. Yes, they definitely knew something I didn't know. It began crossing my mind that this fellow might be an assassin. Although why the guard at the gate, who obviously knew him, was giving him a gift of some sort, didn't support the supposition. Perhaps he was a spy for the guards. An un-uniformed guard to keep the peace with the more stealthily and disreputable people of the district. Then it hit me. The raven wasn't a simple pet, it was a familiar. This elven-man was a sorcerer. The truth of the observation hit me hard. I blinked, losing the battle of stares and slammed my head into the wall behind me. Stars flashed in my mind and eyes and the sorcerer grinned. "You're quick. It takes most people much longer to figure that out."

"Spell or my expression?" I asked carefully, rubbing the back of my head.

Sorcerer or not, I refused to let this arrogant man make a fool of me. Although he pretty much had done so already. "Don't feel too bad, lots of people get that expression when they realize who my friend is." he turned his head slightly to address the bird. "Ryn, meet Half-elf. Half-elf, meet Ryn."

"I have a name." I protested.

"And it is...?"

I swore silently. I had just put myself in the position of breaking a cardinal rule when meeting someone you had doubts about. Any stranger for that matter. Names. Although I suppose it didn't really count that much, since I sort of knew him by knowing his name. In a bard's life, names are very important, which was why I resented being simply called by my race. Leaving the fact of his obvious dislike of half-elves beside, a simple name of Half-Elf was like stabbing a bard in the back. Yes, it stupid, but that's just the way things are. I stammered slightly. "You're a bard." he mused aloud.

He was good. "And no doubt one of the survivors of the academy."

"How would you know?"

He smiled strangely. "You have the look of battle about you. A failed battle, but a battle nonetheless. Besides that, there's blood on your sleeve and you're not infected by the plague."

"How do you know I'm not infected?" I asked pointedly.

"Well, you're here, aren't you. And you don't have the stink of decay. So, my mysterious half-elf, do you have a name or shall I name you?"

"Don't!" I cried before I could catch myself.

He grinned widely. "Ah yes, that old Bard-thing."

I lifted my nose a bit into the air. "Things that have names are already named. I said I have a name and therefore I'm already named. To name me again would alter things drastically."

"How?" He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on them, looking rather interested.

"I can't tell you why. It's too hard to explain. Let's just say that's important in the flow of time and history."

He nodded. "Continue."

"About what?" I asked cocking my head and frowning.

He was getting a bit more than annoying.

"You were going to tell me your name."

"Kestral Fynn."

"Hello Kestral Fynn. I'm Amendel Silverhand. It's a pleasure to meet you." he sat up and stuck out his hand to shake.

I ignored it. "I was told by the man who guards the Peninsula District Gate to give you something."

"Where is it?"

"My room."

"Then you lead."

"Like I'm going to show you where my room is!"

"Well you don't have to. I am a sorcerer. You have Bard Magic. I could just follow that scent and find your room easily. Or I could put a tracking spell on you."

"You sound like a dog."

"I have a Raven, ma'am. Not a dog. Raven's happen to like shiny things. Ryn could follow you by that sword you carry. So are you going to deliver the package to me or not."

"Maybe I'll simply keep it."

That was the wrong thing to say. Amendel began glowing a faint black, his eyes became like fire as he glared at me. "That would be unwise." he intoned in a otherworldly voice.

I was scared. Heck, I was more than scared, but I wasn't about to let him know that! I narrowed my own eyes and cast a simply counter-spell. My fear dissipated immediately and I smiled smugly as he sat back and frowned. "You clearly don't have a weak mind."

I stood. "Do you want your package or not?"
Now that I had the upper hand in surprising him, I was going to play it for all I was worth. Which at this point in time, wasn't overly much.

Amendel stood and towered over me. I whispered another counter-spell, but still he rather intimidated me. No magic there. I swore silently and began walking to my room without looking back. I knew he was following me, I could feel his shadow and it unnerved me more than anything.