Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 18
The flotsam and jetsam
Xan shifted in his chair.
For a long moment, he felt ill-at-ease meeting the eyes of this man in front of him, clad as he was in torn clothing, his features marred with bruises which would take days to fully subside even with healing. If he were honest with himself, he knew the reason why. It was like looking in the mirror, at how he must have appeared when this unlikely group of allies had rescued him from his dismal fate in Nashkel Mines.
The man, Ender Sai, gazed back at him with the tranquillity of morning zephyr. At least his face was clean now, even if nothing much could be done for his matted blonde hair. He sat on the ground with his back against one of the chests in the main tent, too weak to even raise himself into a proper seat. But he looked almost…content in that moment.
"Ask your questions," Ender Sai gestured towards him. "This is a debt I am more than happy to settle in full, friend."
Still bothered by the sight of him, Xan looked around at his gathered companions before proceeding. Jaheira stood behind him and to his right, as firm and unmoving as one of her beloved forest trees, despite the multitude of cuts adorning her extremities. The strength-enhancing potion she drank last night had worn off, likely leaving her fatigued, but she displayed no signs of weakness. Close by, Sorrel had seated himself on a crate, pressing a bundle of cloth to a still bleeding cut on his forehead. His eyes were stormy, still trying to deal with the loss of his commander, not to mention most of his men. Finally, further behind in the corner, Elene lurked there almost blending into the shadows, silent and still. Not a word escaped her lips since her summary execution of the leader of the Black Talons.
They all looked to him to begin. Xan cleared his throat and turned back to their guest.
"You said you knew who Tazok work for?" he started with the burning question.
The immediate response he received was an amused quirk of the lips from the other elf. "If you'd asked Tenhammer and his Chill partner, Crush, they woulda told you he worked for the Zhentarim."
"I didn't." Xan raised an eyebrow. "I'm asking you."
Ender Sai's smile widened, as if pleased that he'd caught on to his joke. "That's the trick, see? Tenhammer and Crush both think he's getting orders from the Zhents and Tazok doesn't do much to discourage that line of thinking. But the Black Talons and Chill are bandit groups, see? They ply the trade routes, avoid the cities, and that's where they go wrong. I'm from the Gate and I can tell you dead as leather that the Zhents aren't behind this."
"A desire for silence isn't the only reason I wear soft-soled boots. I wear 'em so I can tell whose toes I'm treading on. I didn't mess with no Zhentarim. I picked my enemies and I messed with one group and one group only." He leaned forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "The Iron Throne."
Out of his line of sight, Xan heard Sorrel start, the sudden creak of movement in metal plate grating in the silence. But the newly promoted Fist captain did not interrupt. Xan filed away the observation for later reference.
"And right as rain, here I am as Tazok's personal prisoner." Ender Sai pointed to his right ear, which had its tip cut off. "Oh, don't get me wrong, he did the song and dance they usually do with their prisoners. But he made sure to keep me alive, kept prodding me on what I knew instead of shipping me off with the others. You do the math."
Xan frowned. "Who was giving orders to him? And where was he taking the other prisoners?"
"Tazok's been making regular visits to the Cloakwood, so that's where I'd start if I were you. You missed him by a couple of days, he'd just left with the last batch of prisoners, for Mask knows what." Pausing, Ender Sai then jerked his chin towards the trove of chests nearby. "The documents in that chest, those would be worth taking a look at, too. Not the brightest, this Tazok. He hung on to letters when I woulda burned them."
Much like Mulahey. Birds of a feather do flock together, it seems.
"Would those letters say anything about a woman he's after?" Xan asked, wondering momentarily what Elene was thinking.
"Ah," Ender Sai's copper-coloured eyes flicked shrewdly toward a spot above Xan's right shoulder. "You mean this young lady here. Elene, was it? Orders from the top, those were. Someone really wants her found and dealt with. You must be a real thorn on their side, my lady, whoever you are."
Jaheira nudged Xan in the shoulder. He nodded, sensing it was time to divert the topic back to safer territory, namely back to the man he was questioning. Judging from his style, he must be an experienced spy or informant, much like himself. He was not an agent of Evereska, none of those operated out of Baldur's Gate. Since Jaheira did not know him, he also ruled out the Harpers, and he did not strike him as a Zhent. It certainly begged the next question, though he doubted he would get a straight answer from the crafty man.
"Alright. Now who do you work for?" he asked, leaning forward.
The elf chuckled softly. "I've learned a long time ago the best person to work for is yourself. Consider me a…benevolent rogue, unhappy with how some people are running their business."
Xan watched his face but could not detect any deception. "How did you get captured?"
"Complacency, I guess?" Ender Sai sighed. "I shadowed his courier, Tranzig, but stayed too long in Beregost. One evening, I had a nice meal and wine, the next morning I woke tied up in a wagon heading for this camp."
"Then it might please you to know that Tranzig is dead," the enchanter remarked.
A grin broke out on the other man's face. "Oh, that it does, my lord. That it does."
He smiled slightly. "What will you do next?"
"Me?" Ender Sai seemed genuinely surprised by the question. "Maybe sell some of this information to an interested party, someone who can do something with it. After that, I'm gonna take a break from this spying business for a while. What they put me through here…" he trailed off, his eyes taking on a faraway look, "Makes me rethink a lot of things."
"I can only imagine," muttered Xan. He wished he was in a position to rethink many things in his own life. Alas, duty always came first. "It's best you come with us when we leave this place. We can help you get to the Friendly Arm Inn. From there, your path is your own."
"That's kind of you, my lord. I'll take you up on that offer." Ender Sai ducked his head, his eyes alighting on the moonblade sheathed at the enchanter's waist. "When you head off to step on some toes, you can tell them Ender Sai sent you."
"Duly noted," Xan replied drily as he rose from his seat.
"We head off in an hour or so," said Jaheira. "We will get a suitable wagon for you."
"Much obliged. I wouldn't be able to walk now to save my life," Ender Sai tipped his imaginary hat at the druid.
Out of the corner of his eye, Xan saw Elene slip away. He would need to have a word with her later, he thought. There were things he witnessed last night which gave him cause for concern when it comes to her behaviour. Not that he felt he had a right to dictate it, mind. Rather he felt a sense of responsibility over a young elf looking for the right path to walk. The current path she was on was certainly not it.
He handed Ender Sai his own waterskin and left the tent with Jaheira and Sorrel. The sun was rising at last. Small comfort it was, as he knew the camp won't look any better in daylight. With the number of bodies strewn about, the carrion birds would feast for days. It didn't bear thinking about the smell of the place when the day's heat settled in.
They walked some distance away to get out of range of Ender Sai's elven hearing. Xan glanced at Sorrel next to him. Despite his blasé nature, the man had surprised him with his ability to launch a cohesive attack, then create enough havoc in situ to keep the rest of the camp off them as they eliminated the leaders. It came at a cost, of course. Of the three dozen Fists they attacked with, barely a dozen would live to walk away after last night.
Despite the eradication of the bandit camp, Xan felt it a pyrrhic victory. He guessed that Sorrel shared his sentiment, judging from his subdued features.
"What do you make of all that?" Sorrel asked as he scanned the skies.
"Hearsay, coming from one source," answered Jaheira without hesitation. Out here, away from the strange elf, she allowed herself to slouch a little. "We will need to go through the documents in detail to verify what he says, but I think he is right about prisoners being taken elsewhere. Khalid found a number of cages and many manacles fitted into the cave, but not a prisoner in sight."
"Why Cloakwood?" Xan wondered. "I thought it was a deep wilderness, untouched by men."
Jaheira shot him a wry look. "Precisely where I would want to hide my operations. Cloakwood used to be settled by dwarves long ago. There may be something left over from that time that Tazok and his people have found use of."
"I wish some things would just stay buried," the elf grumbled. Then he turned to Sorrel. "And you? What do you make of it?"
Sorrel absently pressed the cloth in his hand against his head. "Well, this is a big mess for the Fists, make no mistake. One Officer dead with dozens others. We won't be able to chase this lead with you, if that's what you're asking. I'll be spending the next year filling out paperwork." He sighed, glancing over to where Vai had fallen with her men. "It's a shame about Jessa. She was the best captain I've ever worked for."
Xan nodded in sympathy, but pressed on remembering his reaction to something Ender Sai said, "What about the Iron Throne? Do you know much about them?"
"Those rich boys from Cormyr? Yeah, I know them," he scoffed, lips curling in disgust. "Hard to believe, though. Why would stuck-up merchants hire Talons and Chill to raid caravans? I mean, I've seen them around the Gate, they have this big headquarter close to the docks. But all they seem to do is go to all the nice parties with all the right people."
On the surface, at least. Who knows what that varnished exterior hides underneath?
"That's the lead we have right now, like it or not," Jaheira replied, her tone indifferent. "We will have to pursue this to Cloakwood and see what we find there. If we come back alive, we can share our findings."
It was a close thing, but Xan almost smiled. In his dealings with adventurers, it was rare to find a true professional like Jaheira.
"Suit yourself," Sorrel shrugged. "You've more than done your part here. I'll have your reward waiting in Beregost when you're ready to collect it. Honestly, I've lost count of how many your people killed, but I'll work something out with the bookkeeper."
"I'll take your word for it," she answered with a thin smile.
"Mind helping me with one more thing?" He looked around awkwardly. "We'll be heading out soon, but I'd rather not leave my comrades out in the open like this. If you could help me and the boys with the pyre, I'd really appreciate it."
Her features softened a fraction at that. "Yes. Of course."
"Go ahead. Fire is not my strong suit," Xan deflected.
"No, I'd get the elf girl for that," the Fist corporal half-smiled. "Great work she did. Her and that other girl. No idea where she got that pack of worgs came from, but it sure helped with the first push. Glad to have them on board."
An unexpected prickle of pride ran through Xan at his statement. It seemed that his teachings were not completely pointless, after all. Both girls had tremendous potential for magic, they simply needed the right avenue to apply themselves. Committing arson on a large scale was not something he would have advocated for as a practical test, but it had worked for Elene. A literal trial by fire. But he agreed, she had outdone herself despite his concerns.
"We'd best get a move on." Sorrel turned away, giving the elf a casual salute as he did. "Master elf."
Jaheira went with him, leaving Xan alone with his thoughts. He'd buried enough friends in his lifetime to be averse to what Sorrel had to do. By some sheer miracle, he wouldn't be burying any of his own companions that day.
Khalid and Imoen had limped away with injuries, various nicks and cuts and certainly arrow wounds. The Talons had rallied towards the end for a last hurrah, and it was that last counterattack that nearly broke Sorrel's group. Garrick had barely survived, the bard proving unsuited for all-out combat. In contrast, Xan will never forget how Kagain stood at the fore and took the brunt of the attack like the prow of a ship cutting through torrential waters. To his shock, the dwarf had lived after the fact, even as all who had stood with him perished. A true testament to dwarven hardiness.
In his introspection, Xan took to wandering the camp, evaluating the aftermath. Full-scale assaults had never been his forte. You can't persuade your way out of a life-or-death fracas, for one thing. If things had boiled over to that point, his core mission would have likely been a failure. The last time he had seen death on this scale was an attack on slavers which specialised in elven 'goods' more than a decade ago. It had taken him days to wash off the stench of blood from his things, and years after to wash it off his conscience. He knew he had done the right thing in the end but killing on such a scale always bothered him.
He spotted Kagain rifling through the belongings of a dead Talon, muttering bitterly to himself as he did. No wonder he was in such a foul mood. With everyone dead, he would have to part the answers from the dead to find out what had happened to his caravan. Gruesome work, but surely the copper-pinching mercenary would be able to find some consolation in his search. Gold was something of an analgesic for some people, or so he was told.
Further ahead was Ajantis, wrapping bandages around Garrick's middle. The paladin was a solid partner in battle, Xan had to give him that. Justice served, he'd offered to watch over Ender Sai and ensure he made it back to civilisation safely. His only discontent was that they were unable to save more prisoners. As for the bard, it was unlikely he would consider a long career in adventuring after his injuries. Young as they were, even Elene and Imoen had more grit than the boy, he thought. He should stick to taverns or royal balls and the like.
What about himself, though? It seemed the more they dug into this iron crisis, the deeper the rabbit hole went. His superiors must really be having a laugh sending him on his own for this one. Yet they'd entrusted it to him for a reason, surely. He'd long mocked the collective wisdom of the elder Greycloaks but he'd never had reason to question their intent.
Could he say for sure this plot would not threaten Evereska? He still didn't have the answer to that. There was nothing for it but to continue down the rabbit hole, it seemed.
He paused as he came across a body on the ground, one which stood out against the rest despite the full-faced helm concealing the man's face. A slender Flaming Fist man clad in scale mail rather than the customary plate of his brethren. Sighing, he offered a soft prayer to Naralis Analor to guide the man's departed soul to the afterlife. He didn't know Godric well, but he seemed to be a good, dutiful sort. Another one parted from this world too soon while viler creatures walk on to prey on the living.
It was, as Sorrel said, a shame.
As he continued his aimless stroll, his ears picked up a heated conversation not far away. Familiar voices, he realised. Quietly, he crept forward, hoping to catch snippets of Kivan and Elene's disagreement.
"…if we missed him by days, we can catch up if we move now."
A sigh. "You know very well most of us are in no shape to go chasing after Tazok's band. Into the Cloakwood forest, no less. We need to rest and recuperate first."
Kivan replied with a scoff, the derision in it audible even from afar.
"You can rest. I'm going after him."
"Kivan, please. You almost got killed rushing in on your own last night. Don't throw your life away."
"I am not throwing my life away. Don't you understand? For as long as I draw breath, I will never have peace while that beast still lives."
"And you will. I promise you, you will. But your odds are better with us. Stay with us. Please."
Xan stilled just as he was about to round the corner. They had both gone silent. He wondered if they'd heard him and stalled their conversation to avoid him eavesdropping. As it was, he would never have been able to get up this close without at least Kivan noticing his presence, but he supposed they were both distracted. Carefully, he peered over the tent blocking his path just in time to see Kivan step up to Elene and grasp her on both arms.
"Just because you promise it will happen, doesn't mean it will. You need to open your eyes and see the world for what it is." He shook her a little, as if to jolt her awake. "It doesn't work like in the books, the gallant heroes clinching justice just because they're meant to. In the real word, the villains get away."
"And just because you chase off after his shadow now, doesn't mean you will find him. Or manage to kill him." She answered, voice gentle despite the sting to her words. Her hand rose to grasp at his forearm. "We're still on the right path, Kivan. Let us stay on it, as a group. None of us would have been able to accomplish what we did here on our own. You have to admit that much, at least."
He let her go, as if her touch burned him. "Why are you doing this? Why should you care? If it's about the life debt you feel you owe, you've repaid it with…whatever it was that you did."
"But that wasn't the deal, remember?" She tilted her head. "I didn't say I'd save your life, I promised you I'd help with what you needed done." Smiling slightly, she added, "Come to think of it, you were the one who said we will see this through together. So why don't we regroup, strategise this, and then go after that bastard. Won't that give you a better shot?"
For a long time, he simply watched her, not saying anything. She in turn stood her ground, waiting for his response. The impasse ended when he spotted Xan, standing at a distance. The ranger clenched his jaw and stepped away from her.
"I will hold you to your word, Elene. We do it your way for now."
Kivan walked away from her, towards Xan. They said nothing to one another as the ranger moved past him to head back to where the funeral pyre was being set up, eyes blazing with emotion. Likely Kivan would be walking around with a chip in his shoulder for as long as they weren't on the most direct route to Tazok. He would have to keep an eye on his kinsman, in case he did anything reckless.
Once he was sure Kivan was out of hearing range, he approached Elene. She looked so small for someone who had carved a bloody swathe through her foes in the night. Perhaps that was why she was able to accomplish it in the first place, because no one saw it coming. Well, that and his continued interference in her fights. For certain, if he hadn't intervened to support her in her mad dash through the main tent, she may not be standing there now.
"I commend your effort with him, but I fear it may be futile," he commented as he drew close.
Her fine features drew into an obstinate look. "It's not futile, he's coming with us to Cloakwood."
Xan sighed, both amazed and frustrated at her naivety. "He cannot see past his own grief, Elene. He will either overcome it in time, or he will get himself killed in the attempt."
"How could you say that? He's our friend," she rounded on him, eyes wide.
"Friend or no, the point stands. We cannot save people from themselves. They choose what to make of their lives." He levelled a cool look upon her, deciding to attempt a direct approach. "You would do well to remember that, given where your own life is heading."
"What do you mean?"
"You know very well what I mean. Certainly, enough men have died by your hand mere hours ago, some of whom could have been spared for questioning. Not that you cared, the way you were carrying on," he huffed. "You walk a dangerous tightrope, more so than even Kivan. I would ask you to be mindful. If you fall on the wayside, the road to redemption will be a long one, if you ever find it at all."
"I'm not a child for you to be lecturing me, Xan," she replied, an uncharacteristic chill in her tone.
"Oh, for certain you are not. A child would not have been able to do what you did."
"Those were wicked men, who have done terrible things," she bristled at his sarcasm. "Do they deserve to keep their lives after what they've done?"
"You don't get to decide that, Elene."
"Then who does?" Her glare emanated the same cold anger she'd exhibited throughout her understated rampage through the camp. "You? Jaheira?"
It seemed she was still sore from the bust up she had with Jaheira immediately after they'd made the camp safe. Likely she'd been confronted with the same points by the druid and was not up for another argument on it with him. Xan relaxed his shoulders slightly, reconsidering his approach. He needed her to listen to him, not fight him. He would have to try another tack.
"Ultimately, no one should get to decide on a whim," he answered slowly. "I'm not going to lie and say I have never executed anyone in my line of work. But the reasons why you go to such lengths must be strong and very clear. Or it will haunt you later in life. And we are a long-lived people." He threw her an expectant look. "Now do you know your reasons as well as you think you do?"
Her eyes flicked off into the distance in thought. Some of the anger in her stance dissipated as if she was caught unprepared by his question. There it was, he observed. The thinking scholar had finally resurfaced.
"I…" she began, then paused. She ran a hand over the loose hair had begun to stick out in the heat, then dropped her gaze.
If I know her by now, she will try to evade my question like she would a swing from a blade.
"I'm almost two hundred years old, I can wait another hundred for your answer," he remarked mildly.
Elene glanced at him in surprise before recovering her wits. "Well, that answers one question I've always wanted to ask," a smile ghosted on her lips, almost too quick to notice before she turned sombre. It was a while before she continued, "As for your question…when it was happening, I was very clear that it had to be done. Now…" she trailed off.
"Not so sure?" he ventured.
She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "There are many things I still don't understand and can't connect with. The dreams, the powers. I don't have the benefit of this… connection to elven-ness that you and Kivan do, to balance it out." A note of rawness had entered her voice. "It doesn't help that every time I speak with you, I keep getting reminded that I lack something to centre on. I wish I had clear answers to give. To you and Jaheira. But really, I don't."
Xan frowned, disturbed that he had that effect on her. It never occurred to him that she would see him as a reminder of her presumed shortcomings. Perhaps he needed to really understand this dichotomy in her, rather than try to reach out to her as a fellow elf. She demonstrated surprising capacity to influence and drive others yet deep down, she herself was racked with crippling uncertainties. Admirable, but she can be likened to a candle that burns itself. Unsustainable.
"I apologise," he bowed his head. "I had no idea you felt that way, it was never my intent. I thought you, curious as you are, would like to know more about that side of yourself. For elves, the Seldarine is our source. To be cut off from it…it puts you at risk to other," he paused, choosing his next words, "less benevolent influences in this Realm. I didn't wish you to come to harm out of ignorance."
"I suppose you're coming from a good place." She sighed. "So is Jaheira, in her own way."
"You don't need to have the answers now, Elene. I only ask that you think on it. The Life changes people, and seldom for the better," he told her.
"I'm…beginning to see that," she agreed, fatigue clear in her posture. "I will consider your words, Xan."
He nodded. That was the best he could do for now, he knew. He would take what he could get.
The smell of smoke began to waft in the air. Xan looked up at the beginnings of smoke from the funeral pyre, felt a morbid twinge of envy for the dead. At least their troubles were over. It felt like his was just beginning.
Author's Note:
So that's the Bandit Camp arc. Now we move on to the Cloakwood arc. :)
Hope you're still enjoying this story!