A/N: Thanks for the review, Witchwolf, and to all the readers that don't feel like reviewing. I don't hate you, I promise. With this story, I hope to present a more ordinary type of protagonist, a hero not out of trade but by circumstance. Here's chapter 2 of The 58th Post, and sorry for the delay. The Light Within will be updated next.
2. Released. Reflection. The Caravan. The Mercenary. Attacked Again. Pursuit.
He spent two days in the hospital, drifting in and out of sleep. There was little he could do while the clerics dressed and re-dressed his wounds, which were healing quickly. Mostly all he had were his thoughts to keep him busy. There was plenty of time for reflection, and he doubted there would be time for it later.
It was surreal, thinking of how one single action, one person, could disrupt the peaceful flow of life. The killer (Reldel, if Ruiz's sources were correct) had not only affected him, but all of Waterdeep as well. It seemed fitting that the only crime he had committed prior to murder had been theft, because of how seamlessly he had snuck into Eli's life and stolen the lives of those close to him… and nearly his own, as well.
He had also stolen the security that the people of Waterdeep had known for so long… the belief that nothing and no one could harm them. Now, instead of seeing youngsters playing in the streets after dark, the streets were empty well before dusk. The faces of the people had a pinched, closed look, hinting at barely contained fear. There was no way to keep the news from the public eye, as passerby had witnessed several of the murders.
That was the most disconcerting thing, Eli thought to himself, moving into a sitting position so he could look out the window. The attack was done in broad daylight, even though the killer had an untraceable means of transportation. Why not attack from the shadows after dark, when the victims might not have been found until morning, and the chances of escape were better? It's as if he wanted to be seen.
Could the murderer be an assassin from another city- an enemy of Waterdeep's? Perhaps, but there were too many things that didn't fit. Why would an assassin be sent to attack the 58th Post, which was one regiment of many men making up Waterdeep's watch, instead of going after the Lords of Waterdeep? Murdering the Lords would prove much more difficult to do, but if successful, Waterdhavian government would be crippled quite effectively.
With the few details of the killer's physique Eli had provided, and the additional information dredged up in the city's records, several wanted posters were put up around the city almost overnight. It was impossible to walk one city block without seeing one of these posters. Reldel may have infiltrated the city unseen, but leaving would be much harder, with every single citizen on the watch. Somebody had to spot him.
Most of the time he was alone, and untouched by the growing paranoia in the city. Occasionally, he had visitors. Ruiz visited him once, to inform him of the city's plans, and to inquire about his health. Eli had played around with the idea of telling Ruiz that he planned to track down the criminal on his own, but decided against it. He feared that if the commander knew about his plans, he would be able to convince him out of them. Truthfully, there were better men suited to the job of tracking down Reldel, who had both the equipment and the know-how for the job. What did Eli have?
Well… something. It had to be something, didn't it? Something that caused his eyes to prickle and burn and his throat to tighten to the size of a pin whenever he found himself thinking what Owen would when… if he could have seen him. This feeling redoubled when he thought of the other victims, men with families, men who he had joked around with, talked with, even at times, disliked. He could walk away, go back to his family safe and unharmed, the lucky survivor of a terrible day. He could walk away, with the ghosts of his friends left behind in his shadow.
Or he could willingly jump back into the path of danger at the risk of losing all he held dear in life. Give the killer another chance to correct his mistake.
What's most important is to determine whether I'm in this for justice or revenge, Eli thought to himself. He had told Mina it was justice, and he would have liked to think that this was true, but it was trickier than that. Justice and revenge were opposite sides of the same coin, with only a thin strip of metal separating one from the other. No, Eli corrected, justice and revenge were intertwining strands that create one string. Can you truly have one without the other?
He was discharged from the hospital that day, given some loose-fitting clothes (since his armor had been taken with Ruiz) and turned out onto the street with a clean bill of health, and instructions to avoid strenuous activity for a week. He smiled ruefully as the cleric said that, somehow feeling he would be doing plenty of exercise before long.
He took his time going back to his home, passing through the Trade Ward on his way. Passing through the Dock Ward would have proved quicker, but he was loathe to go there in his condition. It was common knowledge that the Dock Ward was the most dangerous place in Waterdeep, lightly patrolled by the Watch and where many alleged smuggling operations are said to take place.
When he arrived at his home, the house was dark. Mina must have taken Sarah out to shop for groceries, Eli thought, opening the fridge and taking out an apple. After some thought, he found a small knapsack and filled it with food. He didn't know how long he would be abroad, but it was best to be prepared.
Next was clothing. He took off his tunic and leggings quickly, hoping to be gone before Mina and Sarah returned, and changed into his clothes. Over his tunic he wore a reinforced leather armor breastplate, distinctive but unlikely to mark him as an authority figure once outside the city. If he was to leave the city unnoticed, he couldn't do it wearing heavy armor. The armor had grown tight since the time of its purchase, and he had to move slowly, to minimize contact with his injured lower back.
His weapons: a small dagger, a short sword and a club, had been taken along with his armor. Luckily, he still owned a longsword, sturdy and familiar in his hand, that was kept in case of nighttime prowlers. Without the sword, Mina had no way of defending herself, but Eli was sure that his home would be watched closely over the next few days, just in case. Besides, Mina had always hated the weapon, claiming that she had nothing to fear as long as he was home.
The memory of that argument bubbled up from the placid waters of his subconscious, unbidden. Mina was willful, a take-charge kind of woman who ruled in all matters of the household. They had discussed the pros and cons of having a weapon in the home at length. It wasn't safe to keep it in the house, she had never used a blade before, Sarah could hurt herself, there was no chance any thief would be stupid enough to break into the house of Waterdeep's watch… on and on.
Finally Eli had said in a quiet voice, "I want you, and Sarah, to feel safe at all times. No thump in the dark of night should ever frighten you, because if you can't protect your home, what do you own?"
Mina had found no answer to this question, and finally relented. Yet, even if she was stubborn, she was at once willing to follow through with her husband's wishes, and had dutifully practiced handling the sword until she felt familiar with it.
Eli was willing to follow Mina's decision in many things, but in some situations, his word was final. This was one of those times. Mina had attempted to dissuade him from his decision, but once she saw his determination, she had acquiesced almost at once and instead turned her attention to trying to help him if she could. He wondered if she had chosen this time of day to be out of the house on purpose, knowing that his departure would be harder to make if he had seen the faces of his family one more time.
Suddenly he didn't want to be in his house any longer. The familiar scent of his wife in his room seemed to be overwhelming him, weighing him down, riddling him with doubt. He left the house before he had a chance to second-guess himself and faded into the crowd, just another man in Waterdeep.
Being one of Waterdeep's watch, where the job ranged from keeping the peace in a rowdy bar late at night to patrolling the sewers to breaking up a newly formed street gang causing trouble, there was seldom an opportunity when he was called to act as a detective. However, from experience he knew that the first step was to try and put himself into the mindset of the one he was attempting to find, in this case, the mindset of Reldel's mother, thirteen years ago.
He wandered the streets aimlessly, his face blank but his mind working. I'm a single mother, Eli thought, shuffling behind a young mother holding the hands of her two boys. My husband just died, and suddenly the house seems too empty. Everything reminds me of him. I need to leave. So where do I go?
The answer, he discovered, was anywhere. Luckily, his best chance of narrowing down the destination was to visit Kot Godscopper, director of caravan operations in Waterdeep. The company he worked for, the Highmoon Trading Coster, was one of the largest caravan operations in Faerun, set up in both Waterdeep and Scornubel, along with several other outposts in various cities. Waterdeep would not have been called "City of Splendors" without the caravans; trade had been essential to the city's growth.
Eli had never met the dwarf in person, but from what he had heard, Godscopper had a reputation as an efficient, organized worker who was terribly shy, which made getting a straight answer difficult. Nonetheless, Eli decided to try his luck.
The caravan's base of operations was located in the South Ward, and it wasn't long before Eli found the building. The emblem of the Highmoon Trading Coster, a silver crescent over a black oval studded with stars, adorned a banner overhanging the front door.
The secretary was a plump woman with narrow eyes who scrutinized him critically as he stood before her desk. Obviously, Eli looked nothing like a merchant, and he could almost sense the distaste emanating from her.
"Afternoon, goodwife." Eli said respectfully, tilting his head in respect. "I would like to see Mr. Godscopper, please. It's urgent business." As an afterthought, he unsheathed his sword slightly, revealing the symbol of Waterdeep engraved just above the blade's handle. Blacksmiths would only carve the design into the equipment of a proven member of the military, and it was as good a form of ID as any.
"Is that so?" she said slowly, her eyes glancing at the crest of Waterdeep briefly before looking at him. "Well, go ahead in," she said regretfully, as if she would have enjoyed turning him away if she had found reason to. She jerked a finger at the door to his right.
Godscopper was seated in a small office with a small window looking out on the street. The room felt tight and cramped to Eli; file cabinets lined the walls, and the desk of Godscopper and his secretary took up much of the remaining room. It probably feels homey to a dwarf. Eli thought. Though most dwarves take jobs in blacksmithing, owing from their love of metals, Godscopper taking a more administrative profession wasn't too unusual.
"A moment of your time, good sir?" Eli said at last, for Godscopper had not looked up from his work, looking over a stack documents one by one and muttering to himself. His secretary, similarly sorting through a stack of papers, turned her harried face to him.
"What can Mr. Godscopper do for you, sir?" When Eli looked at the dwarf, wondering why he didn't speak for himself, the secretary went on, "Mr. Godscopper would prefer that you speak through me. He doesn't like to talk about it," she muttered, looking at her desk. Mystified, Eli glanced at the dwarf and thought he saw a hint of color in his cheeks. Maybe they're always red.
"Ah… fine." Eli flashed them the crest of Waterdeep once more, leaning to his right to allow them a good look. "I'm with the watch, and we need some information. It may be crucial in finding the one responsible for the recent murders."
"Of course we will help if we can," the secretary said after a quick glance at her employer. "What sort of information do you need?"
"I need to know if a man named Regris Reldel took one of your caravans out of the city thirteen years ago." The Highmoon Trading Coster was not only one of the biggest caravan operations in Waterdeep, it was also one of the safest. Once outside the city, an unprepared caravan could easily fall victim to a band of robbers, a pack of wargs, or even nature's wrath. Because of its wealth, the company could easily afford quality material.
The dwarf popped out of his seat without a word and walked over to a large file cabinet labeled "Outgoing," pulling a key out of his pocket. He unlocked the drawer quickly and pulled out a drawer, running his fingers along the line of files quickly. Within minutes, he selected a thick folder, scanned through it, and handed Eli a thin sheet of paper. Eli was impressed, Godscopper was just as organized as he was made out to be.
As the dwarf sat back down, Eli looked over the paper. At the top were complicated charts detailing that year's profits and losses, rate of travel (annually), weather conditions… Below that was a list of names for each month. The room was silent as Eli's eyes flitted over the page. Finally, two rows from the bottom, he spotted a name: Nienna Reldel. The first name meant nothing to him, but the surname… this must be Regris' mother! Across from that was the destination: Delodend, a small village in the countryside not too far from Waterdeep. Perhaps Reldel had family there?
"This is perfect, exactly what I need," Eli said, handing the paper back to Godscopper, who placed in its proper position in the folder and closed the file cabinet. "Are there any caravans passing near Delodend? It's important that I go there as soon as possible." It's only been thirteen years, someone must still remember Reldel! Maybe I can find some answers there.
The secretary started to answer him, but before she could open her mouth, the dwarf coughed sharply, interrupting her. It was clear that he wanted to speak, and the two looked at him, Eli with curiosity, while the secretary looked anxious.
"Hold on just a minute, sir!" the dwarf exclaimed, and Eli understood at once why he would be so shy. Most dwarfs were gruff and forthright, always speaking their minds no matter who was listening. Kot Godscopper's voice was neither gruff nor forthright, but rather high-pitched and hesitant. He could hardly believe it was coming from the dwarf's mouth.
"There's no doubt you're from the watch…" Kot squeaked, "but where's your partner? There were two men who came yesterday."
Eli did not answer immediately, his mind working to process the Godscopper's words. Men yesterday? Must be the trackers Ruiz talked about… looks like I'm a day too late.
"Well, I'm just making a follow-up report," Eli said lamely, realizing that he had taken a second too late to answer. Godscopper looked at him suspiciously, before bursting into laughter, which was much deeper than his usual voice. What's he laughing about? Eli looked at the secretary, who shrugged helplessly. He's always like this.
"You don't look like a tracker. You don't even look like a watchman!" Godscopper scoffed.
"…Why did you allow me access to those records, if you didn't believe me?" Eli said, beginning to suspect the reason. Kot may have had an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, but he didn't get to his position by luck: he was first and foremost a businessman. Next would be the proposition. "What do you want?"
Godscopper didn't waste time. "It just so happens that there's a caravan leaving tomorrow, and Delodend is one of the stops! One of my caravan guards broke his leg, and I don't have the time to hire a new one for tomorrow. If only I could find a suitable replacement…" The dwarf walked back to his seat, thoughtfully twisting his beard.
If he didn't agree, it wasn't so bad. There were other caravan companies in the City that travel close to Delodend. But he didn't want to leave a paper trail. Godscopper could complain, and word would spread that he had left the city searching for the killer when he had no business to. No, it would be much better to leave unnoticed.
"I'll do it," Eli said, sounding defeated, but inwardly he rejoiced. A blessing in disguise… but he couldn't know that. Here was an opportunity to leave the city quietly and follow up on this new lead. Few robbers would be foolish enough to attack so well-protected a convoy, so there was little chance of any trouble during the journey. It wasn't common for watchmen to serve as caravan guards, but he could still come up with an excuse if he saw anyone he knew.
"Good, good!" Godscopper cried, delighted. He wrung his hands together, and Eli felt his distaste for the dwarf deepen. Did he care at all if Eli found the killer… or was his thoughts focused solely on free labor? "Be here tomorrow bright and early!"
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The caravan had moved quickly, rolling westward across the land. The weather had been perfect, bright but not blinding, warm but not humid and their convoy had moved quickly. For Eli, it was a simple job with no complications so far. As a caravan guard, all he was required to do was walk along the trail outside the wagons, keeping an eye out for signs of bandits or monsters.
The other caravan guards were mostly mercenaries, men in need of quick gold without much chance of injury. They were rugged men, whose business was usually killing whatever someone paid them to kill… and the occasional protection job, when it came along. Most of them either chose or refused not to talk to Eli, seeing him as an outsider, but there will always be a freak in the group. In this case, the freak was a young man by the name Relan Dimlata, hailing from Cormyr. Cormyr was a righteous city under an enlightened government; it was more likely to turn out knights and paladins than a mercenary. This only made Relan's choice of profession even more curious.
"Well, you know it is…" Relan said, fiddling with the links in his chainmail, when he spoke of his choice. "My father was a knight, and wanted me to follow in his footsteps. But I couldn't stand the chain of command. It seemed like all of my superiors were self-righteous, rigid, pompous old fools, and I hated taking orders. So, one day, I decided to quit."
"Were they really that bad?" Eli asked, having heard of the Purple Dragon Knights of Cormyr, who performed similar duties to that of the Watch of Waterdeep.
"No," Relan admitted sheepishly. "I was young at the time, not even of age, and it was more likely a need to rebel against authority than the actual instructors that caused me to do what I did. I wish I could go back to being a squire, but my pride wouldn't allow it. Besides," he leaned against one of the caravan wheels, which was immobile at the time, "I like being a merc. You meet some interesting people."
"I can bet," Eli replied, and then, on a whim, "Speaking of interesting people, I wonder if you've seen a thin-looking half-elf leave from Waterdeep in the last few days?"
"Waterdeep? No, I can't say I have. I haven't been near Waterdeep for months, until this job," Relan answered in an offhand voice. "Why, what's wrong? Friend of yours?"
"No." Eli responded so quickly that Relan stared, and he quickly came up with an explanation. "Actually, it's an old classmate of mine… but not someone I'd like to meet after all these years. Especially doing this kind of job, if you know what I mean."
"Oh," Relan said. His face looked convinced but his voice indicated otherwise. Then the information clicked. "Ohhhhhh. I understand, sure." He winked knowingly, and Trey relaxed. Maybe it made no difference whether or not Relan knew of his mission, but he didn't want to take a chance. Chances were, the less he talked, the safer he was.
The next few weeks passed with relative ease. The caravan moved steadily onward, closer and closer to Eli's eventual destination. Not that he cared. The work was almost therapeutic for him. His time in the hospital had been absorbed by reflection, the look on Owen's face as his lifeforce drained out of him, the sinister voice that had taunted him ere his own injury. Out here with the caravan, he could lose himself in the scenery, the rolling hills and bright blue sky. Out here, he was untouchable, and even if it was only for a short time, he would relish it.
It wasn't until some two weeks later that that notion was destroyed.
The caravan was less than a day away from Delodend. Eli felt both relieved and disappointed. Relieved, because his "vacation" was over- starting tomorrow, he would be officially back on the trail of the killer. Disappointed, because he had seen a glimpse of what could make the life of a mercenary so desirable. The adventure, the sights, the travel- it had a certain appeal to it. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact of being paid to kill, Eli would have seriously considered a career change.
Eli stared hard into the darkness of the forest, straining his eyes. The night was foggy and he could barely make out the shape of the guard in front of him, a few compartments away. That combined with the stifling feeling of the thick forest served to give him a feeling of claustrophobia he was unused to.
CRACK!
Eli stiffened, sensing slight movement in the underbrush in front of him. Did that shadow move? He thought, forgetting to keep up with the caravan as he stared. The noise could have been made by some creeping animal in the forest… or…
Or. There was always that possibility. Bandits were the normal risk for any caravan, no matter how well-guarded. So far, Eli's journey had been unspoiled by any attack by robbers, but he had to admit: what better setting to stage an attack than a night in a foggy forest?
"Eli, what are you doing?" Relan hissed. Eli turned around. The guards were stationed in different places along the caravan, spaced out so that each one could provide coverage of a certain area of the train. Eli had lagged, and had fallen behind into Relan's territory. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Not a ghost, Eli thought, beginning to move again. Aloud, he said, "Does this forest have a reputation for harboring bandits?"
"Just as much as any forest, I suppose," Relan replied. Then, his voice lowering as he shot a glance towards one of the caravan compartments, he said softly, "Why? Have you noticed anything suspicious?"
"Well, maybe. It could have been nothing, but I thought I heard something off in the bushes…"
"Better that we let the driver know, then," Relan said, his face grim. "In situations like these, it's better to rely on your instincts. Trust me, I know where you're coming from. Let's head up to the teamster, maybe he's noticed something strange."
They quickened their walk, making their way to the front of the caravan. Several mercenaries gave them curious looks and one moved to block their path, but after seeing the look on Relan's face, he quickly stepped out of the way. As they were approaching the head of the caravan however, the train came to a sudden stop. Eli could overhear the curious whispers and mutters of the travelers inside. He glanced at Relan, who looked puzzled, and Eli felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"I wonder if something's wrong?"
"Now who's not trusting their instincts?" Eli said, his face deepening into a frown. Relan said nothing, but his own face mirrored Eli's and he redoubled his pace.
The caravan teamster was an aged woman by the name of Greta. Eli had never actually spoken to her, but from what he had heard, she was known for her stubbornness and her sharp tongue. Neither were stellar qualities one would look for in a wife, which probably explained Greta's unusual choice of profession. Nevertheless, she had seen her share of bad weather and bandit attacks, and when it came to experience, no one could touch her.
Now her withered face was knotted with concentration. Relan sidled up alongside her, peering into the fog. "What's the hold-up, Greta?"
"My eyesight isn't so good anymore," Greta rasped, as she spurred the mules on with the reins, "but it looks like there's something blocking the road ahead."
As the caravan inched forward through the fog, lead ever so slowly by the heaving mules, Eli found that she was right. A small, broken-down wagon was in the middle of the forest path ahead of them. One of the wagon wheels lay shattered, and the roof had caved in, as if it had been bashed in by heavy blows.
"There's a wagon in the way. Looks like ogres got to it," Relan remarked.
"I'm no so sure of that. I've been through here many times," Greta replied, "and never have I had any problems with ogres."
"Obviously those travelers didn't have you with them, did they?" Relan countered. "Listen, I've got a bad feeling about this forest, and so does my friend. What say we just cart that wagon out of the way and move on, hmm?"
"You think you're the only one with 'feelings,' boy!" Greta snapped, her voice sounding strained and tense. "I've traveled across the country while you were still in diapers! Don't talk to me of feelings!"
"So, what do you feel then?" Eli asked in a calm voice, trying to calm her down. Greta's shoulders slumped, and the anger in her face faded away. Fatigue and doubt replaced it, making her look suddenly old and weary. Despite her harsh words, Eli could not help but feel a rush of pity towards her. In another world, Greta's biggest concern should be deciding what kind of gift to give to her grandchild. Instead, she's out here in the middle of the night, doing this. Even if she loves the job… it doesn't seem right.
"I don't like any of this," Greta muttered, staring off into the fog. "It's not an uncommon trick for bandits to create a distraction right before an attack. Bring our attention to the front while they sneak in from behind… but we have no choice. The trees are too thick for us to go around it, so that wagon's got to be moved."
"Tell the others to tighten the perimeter," Relan said decisively. "The wagon doesn't look too heavy- Eli and I will move the wreckage away as quick as we can. Keep an eye out for us."
Greta agreed, and the two men hopped off of the cart and went down the forest path, towards the wreck. The forest seemed to have fallen unnaturally silent; the sweet scent of mingled greenery and water had soured, and the slight breeze in the air had faded to a whisper in the trees. Eli felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle- he fancied he could hear words on the wind.
The remains of the wagons were few and scattered about. Eli and Relan picked their way about the wreckage, pulling away the smaller pieces of wood, and looking for any sign of identifying the wagon- a journal, a logbook, anything. As Eli stooped to lift another armful of plywood, he noticed a flash of pink against the brown terrain, just beneath a large, damaged crate. As he watched, the pink appendage wiggled slightly. And then it clicked.
A finger?
The plywood tumbled out of his hands as Eli threw himself forward, his heart pounding. In his hurry, the heat of the moment- the crate seemed weightless. Beneath the crate was a young girl lying on her side. Her breathing was shallow, and she was covered with dirt.
"Relan! A survivor!" Eli cried without looking up, bending down and checking the girl for any sign of a wound. He heard no answering cry, and something deep inside him- some early warning system that never truly went off-line- began to tingle. The girl didn't seem have to any wounds despite her battered condition.
That's strange. Perhaps she was hidden in a secret compartment beneath the wagon? Eli thought. She doesn't seem to have any serious injuries besides some minor cuts…
A scream, sudden and piercing, cut through the air and his thoughts like a blade, and it had come from the caravan. Eli looked up, and through the fog, he could make out man-sized shapes… many more than just the mercenaries. Bandits! Greta was right!
Eli's face was upturned, looking in the direction of the caravan. So, he never saw the club in the girl's hand before it was too late. There was a sudden horrible pain on the right side of his face before his vision faded into darkness.
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When he came to, there was no telling how long he had been unconscious. His mouth burned terribly and his vision swam. He was on his back, and he heard screams, coming from what seemed like a long ways off. What happened?
SLAP!
A stinging pain, originating from his right cheek, bloomed like a flower, and abruptly his vision re-focused. And just like that, as if the pain had acted as a trigger, the rest of his memories clicked into place. He had heard shouts from the caravan, had looked up… and that was when the "injured survivor" had nailed him in the face with a blunt object, probably some sort of club.
There were faces above him, unfriendly faces that he didn't recognize, and rough hands pulled him onto his feet. Eli would have liked to put a comforting hand against his aching jaw, but at the moment, his hands were held tightly behind his back by an unknown person. He settled for gritting his teeth and looking around.
He was off of the path now, and the caravan was nowhere in sight, but the screams he had heard seemed louder, and he thought that his captors must have dragged in him into the forest while he was unconscious. Nevertheless, he had a feeling he could find his way back… if he could escape, that was.
There were three people surrounding him, not including the one holding his arms behind his back. One of them was the young woman who had been underneath the wagon crate. The other two were men he did not recognize, one was tall and glaring at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and the other had a narrow, cunning face and looked embarrassed to be there. All three were armed, and wearing brown and green cloaks, with a silver pin attached just above their right breast. Bandits!
Greta was right, Eli thought to himself. These thieves used the wagon as a distraction, before attacking the caravan. But why would they wait? Only Relan and I had moved to the wagon- had been distracted, in a way- and I don't see Relan… is he here too?
"What do you want with me?" Eli demanded. His voice was a little hoarse, but he was relieved to find that it was also steady. The larger man narrowed his eyes in distaste, glancing behind Eli, and the man behind him gave him a rough shake, sending a twinge of pain in his shoulder-blades.
"Shut up," the girl snapped, her voice cold. "What makes you think that what we want has anything to do with you?"
"Well, he does bring up an interesting point, doesn't he, Julia?" asked the thin man, smirking. "A guard that is easily duped by a decoy and incapacitated instantly… I fail to see why Riddle places so much importance in him."
He said guard, not mercenary. Could he know? How could he? Eli was surprised, and he guessed it must have shown on his face, because the thin man grinned, a glimmer of sun refracting over an icy lake on a bitter day.
"Yes, we know your identity, o most worthy sorn," said the thin man, standing to attention and knocking a closed fist against the hilt of his dagger. Eli's worst suspicions had been confirmed. "Sorn" is a title used among the Waterdeep city watch, as a sign of respect, albeit rarely used. It meant "worthy or noble sir." The salute had been another sign of respect used among the militia. Somehow, his true identity had been revealed, which Eli could only assume to mean that his purpose for being there was known, as well.
"Shut up, Kreff," the tall man spat at his companion, still staring steadily at Eli. "Riddle's motives need not be clear to every jack in the organization. All you need to know is that he wanted this man. So search him, and quick. I want to get out of this forest."
The grip on Eli's arms tightened as Julia and Kreff stepped forward, searching him with quick and experienced hands. His sword had been taken from him already, but he was also stripped of his bag and armor, which were unceremoniously dumped on the dirt. He watched, feeling helpless anger as Kreff went through his bag quickly.
"Meat… apple… a bottle of beer, I'll take that… ah, here it is!" Kreff closed the bag and stood, and Eli saw that the thief had found his ID papers, identifying him as one of Waterdeep's watch. He had taken with him in the hopes of drumming up some aid when he reached Delodend. The tall man took it, scanning the form, then Eli's face. A slow grin crossed his face.
"Eli Alenden, of the 58th Post, that ill-fated group in Waterdeep. Looks like we've found our loose end."
"Loose end?" Questions bounced around his head, confusing him with how and what and where. He seized a question and jumped on it. He began to struggle against the arms that held him, thrashing from side to side. "Who wants me dead? How did you even find me?"
They looked at him calmly as he tried to break free of the iron grip around him. Then, the tall man took a step forward and slammed a fist into his gut, driving the air out of his lungs in a rush and ending his attempts to escape. His chin slumped forward, forcing his gaze to the ground as he tried to catch his breath. Yet, even over his heaving gasps for air, he heard the bandit's words clearly.
"I don't ask questions, and you shouldn't either. Someone wanted you dead, or else we wouldn't be here. That's all I need to know, and it's the same for you." The highwayman turned his back on him, making a gesture to Kreff that Eli did not see.
"Kill him, we're done here."
Eli would have been killed there, but at that moment, a number of things happened. Fate, which had seemed so unkind to him in the past few weeks- the slaughter of the 58th Post, Owen's death, having to leave behind his family- must have burped. Eli's capacity to process and react to events broke down then, and all he remembered of that time were flashes of memory, stuttering like a faulty film projector.
He remembered seeing Kreff unsheathe his dagger, stepping towards him, that horrible smile still on his face.
He remembered seeing an unlooked for but welcome distraction- Relan had charged into the clearing from the brush, bleeding but still alive. All three parties- Eli, Relan, and the thieves- had been frozen by the sudden intrusion, the shock of seeing someone they had not expected.
The grip on Eli's arms loosened, as the bandit behind him stared in surprise. Acting without thinking, Eli threw his head back and upwards, smashing the back of his head into the tip of his captor's nose. As Eli broke free from the slackening grip, the bandit (whom he saw was a large, burly half-orc) screamed in pain and anger, breaking the paralysis that had fallen over the group.
"Stop him!" the tall bandit cried as Eli took off running into the underbrush. Julia cursed, quickly notching an arrow and firing two quick shots with her shortbow into the brush. Both projectiles whizzed into the undergrowth, on either side of him. The girl began to notch a third arrow, but by then Eli was already gone.
Then, there was terror, he was ashamed to admit. The painful slaps and nicks as the low hanging branches slapped against his face, drawing blood. The furious pumping of his heart as he charged into the forest without any sense of direction or location, driven only by the need to escape. At one point, he tripped over a tree root and fell down hard, a few inches away from a large rock that might have brained him if he had landed atop of it.
Rather abruptly, he was back out on the path again, free from the oppressive depths of the trees. He gaped, helplessly aware that he was a sitting duck in his state, but unable to move anyhow.
The caravan that he traveled with for the past few weeks was in shambles. Bodies- mercenary and bandit both- lay on the ground, their mingling blood staining the dirt a muddy pink. Several of the wagons had been lit on fire by magical means- they sputtered and licked the wood hungrily, but the contained flames did not spread, putting the dry brush in no danger. The passengers had also been slaughtered, and his eyes saw it all. In one compartment window, he could see the bodies of a mother and her son, held protectively against her breast. A gaping wound yawned at the base of her throat, like a second hungry mouth.
A muffled curse from further down the road broke the spell that held him. His pursuers were approaching, yet Eli felt he could run no further. Slowly, he began a shambling run into the forest, but he never got that far. The combination of pain, fatigue, and shock overtook him, and darkness swallowed his sight once more.