Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 13

The needle in the haystack

It took a while for him to realise that he was staring at his own hand, covered in dry leaves. Oddly, the fingers did not respond as they should when he tried to move them. They remained as they were – stiff and covered in dried blood.

Taking a slow, shuddering breath, he looked around, moving nothing but his eyes. He was lying in a forest, with trees which shed their leaves with the shifting season. The chill of dawn made his breath flow out in small puffs and yet his body didn't feel the cold. It wasn't just his fingers, he realised. His entire body was stiff and unresponsive. He tried to swallow, but the attempt left him squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He laid there for a good long while, fighting to keep his breathing even as he gradually began to regain sensation in his body.

Everything hurt. Badly. And yet the physical pain was a pale shadow compared to the pang in his chest when he remembered what had happened.

Deheriana.

Grunting, he painfully began the attempt to roll onto his front. His ribs screamed bloody murder in the effort. The pain was bracing but his will proved stronger in the end. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself until he was on all fours, breathing heavily. His shoulders shook from the effort, bright spots danced in front of his eyes. A few more moments were wasted blinking those spots away, until he was steady enough to look up and ahead.

Another person was lying unmoving not far away, half covered by leaves. He had never been a religious person but in the silence, he began to pray to any God who would listen. And despite the deepening dread in his chest, he put one hand in front of the other and began his slow crawl forward, until he was right next to the figure.

An elven woman lay in front of him. He could only tell she was an elf by the sharpness of her features and slender form, since both her ears had been cut off. Only scraps of clothing remained on her, the rest torn off by rough hands. Cuts and bruises bloomed across her formerly cream skin, now pale and bluish. The ground near her head not covered with leaves was stained dark from the blood that must have gushed out of her when they cut her throat. She was almost unrecognisable to him now, but for her eyes. Her unseeing hazel eyes staring out into the deserted forest around them, as if waiting for the rescue that never came.

Kivan jerked awake in the gloom, throat tightening and eyes burning against his will. In the next seconds, he forced himself to recall the deaths he inflicted upon the bandits he'd hunted, their dying screams a cooling balm for his soul. He focused his thoughts on the grim satisfaction of the hunt and the hunger for more retribution on those who hurt him. Somehow, eventually, he managed to smother the unwanted swell of emotions. Gods, it had been months since he'd had such a painful reminder of that day.

He sat up in his bedroll. A few paces away, he could see Xan glance at him a moment before focusing back on the peripheries of the camp. It must be close to dawn if it was the wizard's turn for watch. Looking around, the rest were still fast asleep. He exhaled slowly, glad that no one witnessed his close call. Friends they may be, but he did not want his weakness on show for anyone.

"Must be a terrible memory to make you struggle so in reverie," came Xan's soft voice.

Kivan glared at him. Although Xan was a kinsman, his insight on this matter was not welcome.

"I'm taking a walk," the ranger said instead, his voice still rough from reverie as he got to his feet.

Xan sighed. "Suit yourself."

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he stalked off to walk the perimeter. It was another warm night in Flamerule, the heat almost suffocating in recent days. He scowled as he distractedly traced the familiar inked pattern onto his forehead and chin. Nigh on two months had passed since clearing the Nashkel mines of vermin, and yet he felt that they were getting no closer to their quarry. His impatience was growing by the day.

The first two tendays were wasted waiting for Tranzig to surface in Beregost after they'd left Nashkel. Tazok's courier was a slippery one, nearly giving them the slip when someone in town tipped him off that he was being hunted. Kivan developed a new appreciation for Xan once they had the eel in their grasp. He would have never expected a moonblade wielder to be so ruthless in his methods, but the elf lord got results with his mind-bending magic. Tranzig had coughed up names, timing and dead drop locations but even he did not know where the main base of operations was, despite Xan's extensive probing.

The children were not there for the interrogation. Kivan was glad for that. He hadn't made it quick. Jaheira and Xan stood by in stony silence as he made the man bleed out on the ground. Tranzig offered up any scrap of information he could think of to save his own neck, until the wretch realised that they had no intention of letting him leave with his life. Then the whimpering started. Xan finally had to step in to put the man out of his misery. They burned what was left.

Jaheira had given him a disapproving look after. He'd ignored her.

She would never understand.

The first dead drop target Tranzig mentioned proved to be accurate, both in location and timing. They ambushed a group of bandits there to pick up an arranged package, leaving one alive. The only titbit they managed to glean was that their ranks were swelling with new recruits in recent months.

In hitting the first dead drop, they must have alerted the bandits that their courier had been compromised. By the time the party reached the second dead drop days later, a group of Black Talon mercenaries were already waiting for them. If Kivan hadn't spotted the well-concealed tracks in time, they would have walked into a deadly trap – a kill zone surrounded by archers with magic arrows. The trail went cold there since Talons were not like typical brigands they'd faced before. Talons fought to the death.

"The Wood of Sharp Teeth stretches leagues to the north and east," Elene had commented, rubbing the back of her neck as she pored over a map at camp after the encounter. "If these bandits keep moving their camp, we could be chasing their shadow for months."

"We know they're in these woods. They leave trails we can follow," was Kivan's simple answer.

In the month since then, they had been combing the woods northeast of Beregost pursuing signs of human traffic. Skirmishes were had with several bandit groups along the way, with encounters increasing the closer they moved to the main thoroughfares used by caravans heading to Baldur's Gate. Some groups even had hobgoblins among their number. Jaheira and Xan were of the view that there was certainly a hidden hand guiding them. The patterns they moved in were too purposeful to be by chance.

"This operation smacks of the Zhentarim," Jaheira groused.

Kivan could care less who was the puppet master behind the throne. As long as he got Tazok, he could die happy.

He spent the next hour patrolling a loose parameter around the camp, checking for tracks or signs of threats. Nothing promising in their vicinity, so they would have to proceed with moving west per the original plan. Along the way, if they unearthed interesting tracks, they would pursue that lead instead. Even if the beasts moved camps every so often, they would inevitably meet with at least a key raiding party based on their pattern. They needed to get their hands on someone who knew the location of the main camp. Xan could handle the rest.

Dawn had broken by the time he returned to camp. The rest were already up, either packing up or sleepily munching breakfast in the case of the girls. Elene looked up as he approached, flashed him a small smile. His eyes snagged on the pinkish line across her throat. Despite the best efforts of Jaheira and the priests in Nashkel, the scar would stand out for many years to come. He looked away, feeling suddenly angry. The sight of it reminded him too much of his past failure.

Khalid tore him a piece of bread as he sat next to the man. "Anything?"

He shook his head as he accepted his breakfast. "We continue west."

"Hey, I have a good feeling about today. I'm sure we'll find something," Imoen encouraged him.

He kept chewing his bread.

"Well, as least one of us has a good feeling about all this," Xan remarked under his breath as he settled himself beside his fellow elf. The mage then proceeded to sullenly bite into a piece of fruit.

Kivan was still unsure of what to make of Xan. On the surface, he seemed like an aloof highborn elf lord, with his impeccable bearing and vast knowledge. Yet he never once shied away from getting his hands dirty when it was necessary. He would have thought that the moonblade exacted certain standards upon its wielder, but it seemed that for as long as Xan's actions were intended to achieve Evereska's objectives, it was fair game. It made him a reliable ally for this leg of the quest. They had to be willing to do whatever it took to find Tazok's hidden nest.

"Be prepared for trouble. We are getting close to the Coast Way, an artery for trade. Too tempting a target to leave alone," said Jaheira.

"With our luck, we'll probably run into more Black Talons," Elene winced.

"Oof, not looking forward to seeing those guys again," groaned Imoen.

Not much was said as they set out, each of them grim-faced at the prospect of either another fruitless day or a tough fight with Talons. Well, except for Imoen. She insisted that this would be a good day, the day things would start looking up.

The sun dawned early in Flamerule, they had many daylight hours to work with. He was a solid tracker, but even he could not find hidden tracks in the dark, Darkvision or no. They chased the sun through the day, the woods becoming less dense as the hours passed. Soon after Highnoon, Kivan paused when he spotted a discarded apple core. It lay barely noticeable at the edges of some wild undergrowth. Almost as though someone had thrown it there hoping it would be hidden beneath the unruly brushes, but it landed a few inches short of the target.

He whispered his thanks to Shevarash. So began the hunt.

From there, he caught fresh tracks of a group of people heading south. It seemed like a sizeable group, he thought, as he found more signs of their passage along the way. To him, it looked like a raiding party.

Looks like Jaheira was right.

They followed the tracks at a brisk pace for hours, keen to catch up to their quarry by nightfall. Assuming the raiding party was made up of humans, as was the norm, their party would be at an advantage if they struck at night. Thanks to Nimbul's magic ring, Imoen could finally see as well in the dark as her elven and half-elven companions. Hopefully, the advantage would be enough to counteract any strength in numbers the bandits had.

Yet as they neared the wooded area not far from the Coast Way monolith, Kivan's sharp hearing began to pick up sounds of battle.

"Wait," he stopped abruptly, holding a hand up.

Xan tilted his head to one side as he drew up beside him, almost cat-like. "Is that…fighting?"

"If they're hitting a caravan, we must put a stop to it," urged Elene, looking to Jaheira.

Jaheira's mouth was set in a thin line as she thought. Then she exchanged a look with Kivan before nodding. "Weapons ready. Let's move."

A pitched battle greeted them as they approached the din of clashing weapons. Six men in shining plate mail armour had steel drawn against a large group of brigands numbering a few Talons among them, easily two dozen of them in total. The men's plate armours had blazing red fists marked on the breast, like an insignia. Two more plate-clad men were already prone on the ground, black shafted arrows protruding from their bodies. It seemed that the bandits had tried to engage their opponents from a distance, but the arrows failed to eliminate the well-equipped force before they closed the gap. There was no telling who the armoured men were, their faces completely concealed in metal helms.

Kivan loosed his first arrow into a bandit's chest as Jaheira, Khalid and Elene dashed forward to get into the melee. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Xan throw a handful of sand and sure enough, four bandits collapsed into unconsciousness. With that, their party and the armoured men made quick work of the situation.

As the last bandit fell, one of the armoured men raised his blade towards Khalid warily. His tone was crisp as he spoke, "Who are you and why have you come to our aid?"

The other five men likewise kept hold of their weapons and repositioned themselves, stances alert.

Khalid raised his hands in a placating manner. "We mean you no ill will. We are hunting bandits."

"As are you, I'd wager," Jaheira interjected, her gaze appraising. "I cannot see any other reason for a such a large patrol of Flaming Fist on these roads."

Kivan wondered, who were these Flaming Fists? He'd never bumped into such patrols in his hunt.

For tense seconds, the armoured man stood unmoving. Then, he lowered his sword and raised the visor of his helmet to reveal a tanned human face, slick with sweat. Despite the obvious heat in his armour and the battle he had just been in, his expression was completely unperturbed.

"First good thing I've heard all week," he said, deadpan. "Dare I ask why you're hunting bandits? Are you mercenaries?"

"Of a sort, yes. We believe the bandit problem is linked to the iron crisis from Nashkel. There's been enough evidence to support it. Now we seek the head of the snake," Jaheira gave the man a level look. "Cut off the head and we may solve the unrest in this region."

He frowned at her. "Wait, were you the group who rooted out the problem in Nashkel Mines?"

"Yep, that's us!" Imoen piped up from beside Khalid, beaming.

Off to the side, Kivan saw Elene wince.

"How about that, we have some heroes here in the flesh. Some good may come out of this sortie, after all," the man drawled, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. He signalled to the men around him to be at ease. "My name's Sorrel, Corporal of the Third Company. I think my captain would like to have a word with you, about a bit of business. She's at the base camp some hours away if you're interested."

"Well met, Sorrel. I am Jaheira," the druid nodded at him. "Who is this captain of yours?"

"Officer Jessa Vai. She leads the Fist contingent in Beregost." He spared a grim glance at his dead brethren as they were being taken care of by the other Fists. "Well, what's left of it. We're cut off from the Gate and our numbers are getting whittled down by hit and run attacks. If we don't break the back of this operation soon, we're going to be overwhelmed."

Kivan raised an eyebrow at that. "Is there enough of you to mount an assault on their main camp?"

"If we can find it, sure," Sorrel graced him with a cavalier smile, then turned to Jaheira. "So, Jaheira, are you up for a walk? Or do we part ways here with a handshake and a 'good eve'?"

She shot a wry look at him. "We will come with you."

"Good. Let's get the rest of introductions done while we walk. I'd rather get away from this filth if you don't mind." He snapped his visor down and turned to walk off. His tone toughened when he addressed his men, "Gents, I suggest we give our brothers their last rites some distance from here, before anything else in the woods decide to drop by."

"Aye, Corporal," one of the men snapped off a salute and dutifully lifted one of the bodies.

"Two more. What a bloody mess of a week," Sorrel muttered as they moved away.

"Flaming Fist, aren't they mercenaries?" Kivan caught Imoen's whisper to Elene as they walked.

"Yes but they're more like law enforcers for this region, from what I've read. It should be ok, Im, they wouldn't be after the blood money," her friend assured her.

The journey to the Flaming Fist encampment was uneventful, with only a brief stop to bury the two dead Fists, which was greatly helped by the presence of Jaheira's earth shift cantrip. She offered the party's names to the Corporal as introduction and nothing else. Either he was not the curious sort, or he was desperate for allies, as he did not query further. Between them, they exchanged the observations they'd made on recent bandit activity, comparing notes. They concluded that north was where they had to go to find the main camp as his platoon had cleared the area to the west and their own group had cleared the east. Kivan filed away this nugget of information. Perhaps these humans had some skill, after all.

As evening drew close, they neared a clearing in the woods surrounding the Coast Way. Even from some distance, they could see that the encampment was bustling with activity, with men talking among themselves, maintaining armour and sharpening blades. Kivan resisted wrinkling his nose at the aroma of gruel, likely to be the dinner served in this place. Easily three dozen men were camped there, many of them still clad in full armour. The whole set-up looked almost military in its ordered chaos, with everyone busy performing tasks even while chatting.

Despite Sorrel's jaunty manner, his band was no ragtag mercenary group, Kivan realised.

"Anchorome is where the brave go to die," Sorrel called out to the sentries, likely a passcode of sorts.

"Welcome back, Corporal," answered one of them.

The men from the camp tensed at the sight of the newcomers but made no move to engage as they saw Sorrel in the lead. A few of them stood out as different from the group, like a grey-haired man in worn leathers and a blonde man who wore plate mail absent of the Flaming Fist insignia. Even stranger, a dwarf sat sharpening his axe close to a bubbling cauldron of food, accompanied by a young man toying with a lute. Behind him, Kivan sensed Elene shuffle closer to him for cover. He hoped she was right about these people being law enforcers and not coin-driven mercenaries. If she was wrong, they wouldn't be walking away from this camp alive.

"Aye, Sorrel! You're back in one piece!" barked a cheerful-looking bearded man as they drew close. "With new friends, no less."

"Try not to sound too surprised, Kent," Sorrel replied dryly as he took off his helmet. He turned to give their group a once-over, wiping at the dark hair plastered on his forehead. "Right then. This way to the Captain. Lads, mind getting me something to eat? Won't be a minute. And by Tymora, it better not be whatever slop they're cooking over there."

Sorrel's platoon members trudged wearily to join Kent and his merry group, who sobered when they realised the platoon was short a few men. Wordlessly, Sorrel led Jaheira and her companions to a large tent at the other end of the camp. At the tent flap, the man cleared his throat before announcing himself.

"Officer Vai, Corporal Sorrel reporting in. I bring tidings."

Silence. Then, from within, Kivan could hear the rustle of papers being put away before a woman poked her head out through the flap. Her boyish hair was the shade of sunset but her most defining feature was her shrewd green eyes. She blinked at the sight of six armed strangers standing with her Corporal.

"And other things, apparently," she said, recovering quickly. She scrutinised the newcomers as she stepped out from her tent. "Do you mind explaining, Corporal?"

Sorrel reported the day's events in succinct, clinical fashion, culminating in the battle and subsequent loss of two of his number. Vai's lips thinned at the news. Jaheira waited for him to conclude before introducing herself and her companions.

"Thank you, Sorrel, you're dismissed. Good work," Vai gave the man a curt nod.

"Aye, captain," Sorrel saluted her and sauntered off to get his dinner.

"I've heard of you," said Vai once he'd left, her eyes lingering on Elene for a second before refocusing on Jaheira. "My sources in Beregost told me you were in town a few weeks ago. You disappeared before I could reach out."

Jaheira flicked a quick glance at Xan, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Worry not, I bear no ill intent," Vai raised a hand placatingly. "But I am not ashamed to admit when we need help. My contingent was garrisoned in Beregost to counter the Amnian muster in Nashkel. But we haven't received new orders for more than a tenday and to be honest, I don't like the feel of this at all."

"The bandit raids have been getting worse since you solved the problem in Nashkel. I used to think they were just your usual brigands out to make a quick buck in troubled times but not anymore. They keep hitting specific caravans, especially those carrying iron and steel, and yet most food supplies can travel the roads unmolested." A bemused chuckle escaped Vai's lips. "I have never heard of brigands being so selective. More signs are pointing that these raids are targeted and at someone's direction."

"Why are you stationed here and not in town?" queried Jaheira.

"Because the town doesn't need protection. The roads do. I've been roping in freelancers to help me get to the bottom of this mess. We must find the one giving these brigands orders, or this cancer will keep spreading. I want this region cleared before winter comes." Her brows furrowed in concern. "The last thing we want is a supply crunch in deepwinter. We would have angry townspeople on our hands."

"Not your forte, is it?" Xan remarked casually, but a hint of edge remained in his tone. Kivan wondered what he was getting at.

"I would prefer to deal with brigands than civilian unrest any day of the month, master elf," was Vai's cool answer before she addressed Jaheira. "As I said, I have several freelancers on board. We have a hunter, Aoln, who's very familiar with these woods, but more help would be welcome. If you could lend your aid in our search, I will pay you 50 gold for every bandit you kill in our service, and a bonus if you succeed in finding their main camp."

Kivan's eyebrows went up at that. "And how would you know how many we've killed in your service?"

"Easy enough," shrugged Vai. "Sorrel goes with you."

A fair arrangement, Kivan thought. He doubted the man in question would be thrilled about it, though.

"The plan is this. We send out platoons to patrol and look out for the right trails. If something promising surfaces, we deploy. If not, we regroup here." Vai paused. "But we will have to move this camp soon, we've been here for days."

"How would we know where you are?" asked Khalid.

"The bard, Garrick, will let you know. He has a spell that can send messages to you wherever you are. Useful fellow, if a bit soft in a fight." She glanced over at the man with the lute they spotted earlier. Then she turned serious. "So, what say you? Shall we work together?"

Jaheira looked to her husband. Some non-verbal communication must have taken place between them as she nodded after a moment. "We will take you up on your offer, Officer Vai. But we also have a…request we think you can help with. Something for your ears alone."

"Oh?" Vai tilted her head with interest. "Do tell."

The druid stepped closer, and with lowered voice asked, "How much do you know about local bounty notices?"

Author's note:

I've always struggled to piece together the narrative for Chapter 3 because it didn't make much sense for a party of six low-levelled people to easily find, then wipe out an entire bandit camp on their own. From here, the story will vary a little bit from the game as the group gets embroiled in affairs much bigger than they first imagined. Hope you will enjoy it!

In terms of writing, hope it becomes obvious that depending on which character POV it is in the chapter, they will make note of different things as events unfold. Kivan is surprisingly easy to write since he just makes note of what he can see and hear, and doesn't overthink. :)