Chapter Five:
Echoed Places, Echoed Faces
Yohimbe is pronounced like Harambe.
This is also cross-posted to AO3 under the same name if you prefer that reading experience.
…
The Yohimbe's crew was as diverse as the Gentleman's own, linked only by their peeling sunburnt skin and collections of scars. They chatted and joked with one another, but once a member of the Mighty Nein neared, conversation quieted. Caleb hoped it was simply due to the standard social tension between strangers and not anything sinister, but it sent his stomach churning in unease every time it happened anyway. Especially since they all carried jagged weapons hung from belts or sticking out of boots.
Caleb and the rest of the Mighty Nein spent the rest of the day lounging off to the sides on the main deck in an attempt to stay out of the crew's way. They chatted with each other occasionally but were mostly content to nap in the shade and watch the lazily passing landscape.
Heavy dusk settled on them in a murky, violet fog, and the grasslands they passed grew flatter and darker. Cattails and other stringy weeds brushed against the side of the barge. Caleb hung over the edge, Frumpkin besides him watching the water with a flicking tail. Frogs and fish darted inches beneath the surface, flashing silver in the twilight. Frumpkin licked his chops unblinkingly.
"Ah-ah-ah-AH—!" Rang out from behind him, and Caleb turned just in time to watch Jester sneeze away the tarot spread before her.
Mollymauk cringed and picked up a card with two fingers. After a moment of deliberation, he wiped it off on his boot instead of his coat.
"Sorry, Molly," Jester said, voice fuzzy from her cold. She wiped her nose with an embroidered handkerchief pulled from the depths of her singed skirt.
"It happens," Molly said, still cleaning his cards.
Beau, sitting cross-legged on top of a barrel, frowned. "Can't you just," she paused, making a gesture with her hands while searching for words, "like, heal your own cold?"
"I—hm," Jester quirked her mouth, tilting her head at the notion. "Maybe? I've never tried my magic on a cold before," she confessed. "Usually I try and save my magic for more important things..."
"Might as well give it a shot. It's pretty quiet for now," Fjord said. He leaned back on the railing several yards away from Caleb, taking a moment to glance at the placid stretch of river ahead.
"Okaaaay," Jester said, skepticism stretching the word. After looking at the rest of the Mighty Nein for confirmation that yes, they wanted her to burn a spell slot on this, she opened her mouth to begin a familiar incantation. The first two alien syllables slipped off her forked tongue before her face pinched, words trailing off.
Molly dove for his cards, pulling them away in his arms as Jester let out another massive sneeze that was as high-pitched as it was loud.
Fjord let out a snort of laughter, and Beau couldn't keep the grin off her face. "You sneeze like a kitten," she called.
Molly packed his cards away before looking back up at Jester. "Well, try it again, then," he said.
"It's not gonna work," she said in a sing-song voice. She began the enchantment again only to be foiled by another sneeze. At least this one she caught with the crook of her elbow.
"Try Spiritual Weapon," Beau suggested.
"Or Thaumaturgy," Molly countered.
"Oh, that's an easy one," Jester said. She cracked her knuckles, shaking them out and closing her eyes to concentrate, but as soon as she opened her mouth another deafening sneeze erupted from her narrow frame that quickly turned into a coughing fit.
"Maybe that's enough magic for tonight," Fjord said with a paternal tone directed at both Jester and Beau in turn.
Molly nodded, patting Jester on the back as she continued to cough. "Alright, bedtime. Let's get you below deck," he said. He uncrossed his legs and pushed himself up in a single fluid motion, taking Jester by the forearm and helping her stand.
"What about the cards? You said—" Jester started.
"Tomorrow," Molly promised as he led her away. The sounds of their conversation faded, leaving the soft lapping of the river against the creaking barge to fill the silence along with the murmured words exchanged between the crew.
Caleb returned to staring out at the flat landscape. In the far distance, there was a dark stroke across the horizon, barely visible to the naked eye and hazy in the evening fog.
"That'd be the Labenda Swamp," Elijah said, placing himself against the railing between Caleb and Fjord. "Have y'all ever been?"
"Unfortunately," Caleb said.
Elijah laughed, rough and genuine. "That about sums it up. It's one of the more dangerous stretches of the river, so we're gonna need a decent rotating watch throughout the night. How's your night vision, Fjord?" he asked.
"Pretty good," Fjord said with a shrug.
Elijah nodded. "Figured. Can I get you gentlemen to take the first watch along with my friend over there," he gestured with his head to a half elf leaning on the opposite railing. She gave them an acknowledging glance before returning to watching the shore slip by. "It'll put you on Whitney's good side, plus I doubt you'll see any real action this early," Elijah said.
"What about later?" Fjord asked.
Elijah chuckled. "Well, it's the Labenda Swamp. So, just gators for the most part. Fish folk if we're unlucky. Trolls if we're really unlucky, but it's nothing we haven't dealt with before," he said. "After we're through the swamp, just pirates for the most part."
"River pirates," Fjord repeated.
"Yup," Elijah said, absently trailing a finger along a dark scar that ran the length of his forearm. "Sometimes, if they don't recognize that we're running goods for the Gentleman, they'll give us trouble, but Whitney and I are good with swords, and the rest of the crew can hold their own too. We can scare 'em off pretty easily," he said, then eyed Fjord and Caleb in turn. "Pardon my assumptions, but I'm betting you folks can hold your own too."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Fjord said.
"Was it the assortment of weapons that gave it away?" Caleb asked, regretting how sarcastic it sounded the moment it fell from his lips.
Elijah just cracked a smile. "Somethin' like that. But it's good to hear just the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd best get some shut eye before it's my turn to take y'all's place." Elijah bid them farewell before tracing Molly and Jester's steps into the heart of the barge.
The last vestiges of color in the sky died, replaced by a black ink wash with pinpricks of stars. Around them, non-essential crew made beelines for the stairs, eventually leaving Caleb, Fjord, the half-elf woman, and two other crew members alone on deck with a hand full of crackling torches. They illuminated the deck with red dancing light but did little to puncture the thick blackness surrounding them—at least to Caleb's human eyes.
With the daylight gone, every splash, every creak, every rustle of grass in the dark could be a merrow. A mountain troll. A bandit. It set Caleb's already frayed nerves on edge. He glanced to Fjord, only to find the man hunched over the railing, one hand clasped tightly in the other, eyes vacant and unfocused.
"Fjord?" Caleb breached, barely more than a murmur. Fjord didn't respond, so Caleb stepped closer, Frumpkin trailing behind him at a cat's pace. "Fjord?" he repeated again, coming to rest about three feet away from the man.
Fjord blinked, eyes focusing, and he looked down at his hands. "Yeah?"
"Um," Caleb began, mentally squaring himself. He could do this. "You seem, is something wrong?"
Fjord cocked his head to look up at Caleb, an almost curious expression flickering across his face. "That obvious?"
"Yeah," Caleb said.
Fjord didn't respond, and silence fell between them like a wall. Caleb put his hands in his pockets so he could fidget without making it obvious. He could do this. He could be here for Fjord. He could make this timeline better. But he couldn't think of anything to say. The more he tried to think of something, the more he failed, the more he failed, the more stressed he got, and the more elusive the words became. He balled his hands in sweaty fists. Inhaling, and hoping his brain would supply him with something, anything, that he could vomit out to resume the conversation.
"It's…" Fjord began slowly.
The sound of his voice, the removal of the burden to continue the conversation, almost made Caleb collapse in relief.
"It's that whole deal with the Iron Shepherds," Fjord said.
Caleb nodded. That made sense, but he hadn't considered it previously because he'd processed his own feelings on the trauma sixteen years ago. Or at least buried them.
"Me, Yasha, Jester…" Fjord went on, "there was nothing we could do? I kept wondering, the whole time we were in those cages, I kept wondering if there was anything we could've—I could've done differently. I hate to say this, Caleb, but the three of us didn't put up much of a fight the night they grabbed us," he said, staring straight ahead at the black landscape instead of looking at Caleb.
Caleb appreciated that.
"It all happened so quickly. They had us in chains and gags before we knew what was going on. We couldn't fight. Couldn't cast. All we could do was sit there and wait. For a moment there…" he paused, chewing on his words. When he spoke again, it was softer, "For a moment there I wasn't sure you guys would come for us." He did look at Caleb at that.
Caleb raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well of course we did. Why wouldn't we?" he asked, genuinely curious now.
Fjord paused again to think over his words. "Well, it's no secret we've had our disagreements in the past," he said at last, "I've known a lot of people who go through life just looking after themselves. Can't blame 'em. Sometimes that's just what you have to do. But…I'm afraid I misjudged you." Fjord twisted his upper body to face Caleb now, giving the man his full attention.
Caleb, hands still shoved in his pockets, swallowed hard and focused on the tips of his shoes. "Oh?"
He saw Fjord nod in his periphery. "Yeah. You—you do care for the Mighty Nein. In your own way. I think you have for a while now. I'm sorry it took you saving us from a group of slavers for me to see the obvious."
"Well, I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, so I don't blame you," Caleb said, still focused on his shoes.
Fjord gave a puff of laughter at that. "I'm not gonna deny that, Caleb. But we—the Mighty Nein—we're all kind of…" he searched for the words. "We're all a little bruised, and a little scarred. So it's gonna take a while to really figure out how to make this work but, man, my time with y'all has been some of the best in…well, a while," he said.
"Yeah, it's been good. This is good," Caleb said, not daring to speak louder than a whisper.
"So I guess what I've been trying to say, Caleb, is thank you. For saving us. You didn't have to. But you did, and it means something."
Caleb swallowed down his guilt. "Hey, that's what friends are for, yeah?" he said, trying to sound as casual as he could. "Besides, I'm glad you're back. Trying to make decisions with you gone was a nightmare."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, it worked out in the end anyway? You guys came up with a good plan."
Caleb bit his lip. "It was too risky. I should've seen that going in."
Fjord laid a heavy hand on Caleb's shoulder. "It worked out in the end though, and that's what matters, Caleb."
"It worked out in the end," Caleb repeated, nodding slowly, tasting the words that had never rung true for him in his lifetime of endeavors.
A more comfortable silence lapsed between them that was slowly filled with the sounds of bugs and frogs as they neared the swamp. The boat pushed on and Caleb's eyes adjusted enough to separate the ground from the sky. As the night grew late, spindly tree branches leaned over the water with gnarled trunks, suffocating the stars with dead leaves and hanging moss. Before they entered the swamp proper, Elijah returned to the deck and relieved them of their watch.
Fjord helped guide Caleb through the boat's dark to the crew's quarters where the hammocks around them hung heavy with the weight of the bodies within.
"Thank you, Fjord, for speaking with me," Caleb said quietly, just audible above the snoring.
"Yeah, thanks for listening, Caleb. I appreciate it," Fjord said, clapping the man on the back one last time before the two men split off to their respective hammocks.
Gracelessly, he pulled himself into bed, crossing his ankles and resting his clasped hands on his chest. Frumpkin jumped up, curling up beside his legs. Caleb tried to center himself for sleep, but his mind lingered on Fjord. The half-orc he'd known longer in memories than in life. Much like with Mollymauk and Jester, the lapping waves of memory had scrubbed him clean of his full nuance and depth, leaving just an impression of who'd he'd been in Caleb's mind. It was so odd to think of him struggling with powerlessness and insecurity. He was always the level-headed one. Mature and, honestly, a good man.
Being back, meeting him, them, again and interacting with them... It was like reading an old favorite book that hadn't been touched in years. He remembered the basics, the core of it, but continually found himself surprised by the little details lost to time.
Caleb blinked in surprise as he realized he was actually enjoying the process of getting to know his friends a second time. They were younger and more foolish, and some more alive.
It was nice.
Nice not having the weight of Molly's death press down on them. Reminding them of the perils of their lifestyle along with the inevitable conclusion.
Caleb shifted, trying again to clear his head. The wood creaked around him. The river slapped against the side of the boat. Snoring and heavy breathing rose above it all. He tried to filter it out, pressing his eyes shut as if that'd help. It didn't. So instead he focused on the sounds of breathing around him.
He found Nott's first. Her's was the softest, and he could only hear her breathing due to her proximity. She took shallow breathes that whistled ever so slightly against her sharpened teeth. The sound made Caleb smile.
Molly's breathing was similar to Nott's—though the whistle was louder, and he occasionally hummed beneath his breath and shifted in his hammock. He was probably dreaming. Caleb could scarcely imagine the kind of technicolor phantoms that haunted Mollymauk's dreams.
Beau's was the easiest. She snored freely and loudly. By now though it was a comforting sound.
Fjord's was trickier. Usually he snored too, but apparently the river air had done his sinuses a favor this evening. His breaths were slow and deep, and he released each hearty exhale as though it were a sigh, freeing the tension from his frame with every breath.
Yasha's was the most difficult, both because she slept furthest away from him and because she didn't have any obvious tells like Nott or Molly. Eventually though, Caleb zeroed in on what he was sure was her breathing. It was measured and patient, filled with the low tone of the air echoing around her cavernous lungs, like wind blowing through a mountain range. Yes, that had to be her.
Jester's…Jester's breathing was painful to listen to. The air wheezed through her swollen throat, and her lungs rattled in a way that made Caleb's heart ache. He wished her spells had worked earlier. The fact that her cold was preventing her from performing the verbal component of spells was troubling. Primarily because she couldn't cure herself, but the omnipresent pragmatic voice in the back of Caleb's head reminded him that if they did have to fight, going into battle without a healer historically had not worked out well for them.
Jester coughed, lungs grating together, and Caleb cringed. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his insomnia and swung his legs out of bed. Frumpkin gave a low growl in irritation, not even bothering to open his amber eyes.
If he wasn't going to use this time to sleep, he might as well do something else useful with it.
Using his hands to guide him, Caleb navigated his way to the front of the boat to the accidental alcove he'd found earlier. He lit a stump of a candle, just enough to fight off the dark in the small space and placed his spellbook before him along with his inkwell. He hunched over the book, and after a deep breath to calm his unsteady hand, began to transcribe spells from memory.
…
Caleb began the next day with multiple kinks in his back, but a fuller spell book to show for it.
He emerged onto the main deck that morning to find a murky haze drifting across the deck. Black trees snaked through the air on either side of the river, forming a net of dead branches above their heads. The temperature and humidity had spiked by at least ten degrees, and Caleb could already feel the sticky moisture collected on his forehead and on the back of his neck. The swamp buzzed with insect life and croaking frogs. Odd, warbling bird cries punctured the din at uneven intervals.
Caleb swatted a mosquito off his cheek. They were definitely back in the swamp.
Crew members roamed around with tired bags under their eyes and sloping shoulders. They roamed the deck aimlessly with unfocused eyes. Rough night for everyone, it seemed.
In the center of the deck, Caleb found Elijah and Whitney facing down Fjord and Jester.
"Well, we both agree that we certainly can't go on like this," Elijah said, glancing to his sister then Fjord and Jester in turn.
"Is there a problem?" Caleb mumbled to Fjord as he came to stand next to them.
Before Fjord could speak, Whitney interjected. "Damn straight. Your friend there," she nodded towards Jester, "is gonna get my crew sick with all her coughing. We can't make it through the ice flows if half the crew is below deck hacking up a lung," she said, ending with a scowl.
"It's just a little cold," Jester said through sniffles.
"Perhaps we have something on board that could help?" Elijah said, taking a little step between the two groups. "Medicine? Herbs maybe? We might have some nettle stashed around somewhere."
"Oh, I found that last night," Jester said. "It didn't do anything."
"Are y'all in the habit of eating strange plants you find on boats? Is this something I should be concerned about?" Whitney asked, massaging her temple as her previous irritation faded to exasperation.
"Well, how are you feeling, Jester?" Fjord asked. "Better or worse than yesterday?"
She tried to answer but broke off into a sneezing fit. Everyone else instinctively took a step back.
"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about," Whitney said and crossed her large arms before her, stretching the rope tattoo that wound around her forearm.
"I feel great," Jester said, voice rough and gravelly.
"Here's an idea," Elijah said, "And you're probably not gonna like it that much, Whit, but—"
"Throw them over the side and make 'em walk the rest of the way?" she asked, raising a single eyebrow at her brother.
Fjord stiffened at that, taking a step closer to Jester.
"Well, we'll be passing Berleben around noon…" Elijah said slowly.
"So your genius plan, Eli, is to once again delay our travel for a shopping trip. Despite the fact that we're already two days late," Whitney said.
"Yes?"
"Fine," Whitney said with a sigh, then looked to Jester. "We'll stop for half an hour. If y'all aren't back by that time, we're leaving you in the swamp," she said, pointing at Fjord, Jester, and Caleb in turn with an index finger.
"We understand," Fjord said with a nod.
"Good. Get the little lady her medicine," Whitney said to him, then looked to Elijah. "And you. You need to quit finding ways to weasel out of work."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Elijah said, flashing her a grin as he backed away. Whitney chased after him, leaving Fjord, Jester, and Caleb alone.
"I didn't think we'd be back in Berleben so soon," Caleb admitted.
"It might be fun?" Jester said.
"No time for fun," Fjord said. "You heard the woman. We go in, we get either medicine or another healer to help us out, then we leave."
"I have to agree with Fjord on this one," Caleb said. "We're already going to miss our rendezvous in Ice Haven at this rate."
"Okaaay," Jester said, letting her shoulders slump, "But if I see a new dress there, I'm buying it," she warned. The moment she finished her stomach gave off a loud growl.
"Well, let's see what we can rustle up in the meantime," Fjord said, and the three of them made their way back into the boat's hull. After a moment of searching, they found what could be loosely described as a kitchen—though in reality, it was just a collection of barrels and crates containing rations pushed aside to make room for a handful of mismatched stools.
Despite being below deck, Caleb swore he could taste the rot of the swamp tainting his bread and leaving a sour taste in his mouth long after he'd finished. Jester and Fjord returned to the main deck, while Caleb once again sequestered himself off in his hideaway.
He was running out of materials to transcribe spells, and though he doubted he'd be able to hunt down any in Berleben in the time allotted, it'd be worth a shot to be able to continue his work. He'd memorized all of his spells, naturally, but they were all so complex, especially the more powerful ones, that even the slightest flaw in his memory would render them useless. There was security in having them written down, though it meant he'd have to guard his spell book ever more preciously than before now that it contained world-altering magic.
He wasn't worried about his team finding it. All his notes were chicken scratch, and in Zemnian to boot. Even Jester, despite her magical-leanings, probably wouldn't be able to decipher the diagrams and messy runes, but just the same, he shouldn't let it leave his side anymore. No matter how much they insisted on another bathhouse trip.
Several hours into his study, he heard two sets of familiar claws clicking against the wood. Nott approached, something dark dangling out of her mouth, with Frumpkin trailing behind, meowing incessantly.
Nott paused in front of him and took a moment to swallow whatever she'd been eating.
"Was that a rat?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Maybe," Nott said, licking her lips clean. "Tasted like mead."
"I'll take your word for it," Caleb said, closing his spell book and giving her his full attention.
"We're almost to the docks. We don't have to get off if we don't want to, but I thought you'd like to know," she said.
"No, no, we should go," he said. Nott offered her hand, and he let her pull him up. Following her lead, they wove through the cargo hold and towards the stairs.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder. Appraising him.
He cocked his head as they padded up the stairs. "What do you mean?"
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Yeah. Nodded off a couple times."
"But not in bed."
"No. Couldn't sleep," he confessed as they reached the main deck.
"You've been working in your spellbook a lot."
"Just doing a little clean up here or there."
"All night and all day today?" she asked, scanning him with her golden eyes.
"Might as well put the time to good use," he said with a noncommittal shrug. Along the side of the boat, the crew began to secure ropes to one of Berleben's rickety docks.
Nott stepped closer to him, wrapping a hand in the fabric of his coat that made him pause. "Caleb…" she began softly, dragging her eyes up to meet his, brows pressed together in concern. "If you were…planning something. You would tell me, right?"
He sighed and leaned down to swing an arm around her, pressing her close and resting his head on her bony shoulder where their dirty hair tangled together. So she couldn't see his face. "Of course, I would."
"Eyes up here, y'all," shouted Whitney to everyone in earshot. She stood on top of a crate with her hands on her hips.
Caleb pulled back and straightened, trying to keep the relief off his face.
Nott opened her mouth to continue speaking, but Whitney beat her to it. "Thirty minutes," she shouted as the crew gathered around her. Yasha, Molly, and Beau wandered over from various corners of the boat to come stand by Caleb and Nott while Whitney continued her speech about punctuality and threatening to leave people behind.
"Everybody go it?" Whitney asked, surveying the gaggle of people before her.
She was meet with a rumble of 'Yes, Captain's.
"Alright, dismissed," she said and stepped off the crate.
"Where's Fjord and Jester?" Caleb asked Molly before Nott could resume conversation.
"She was getting a mean headache, so she's back in the crew's quarters," Molly said. "Fjord's with her."
"So we either need to find medicine or grab another healer and bring them back to the ship," Caleb said.
"Should we all split up and look then?" Nott asked.
"This town might be a bit too dangerous for that. Groups of three and two might be better," Caleb said. He might be fine on his own, but he wasn't about to lose a party member to a rogue troll after all he'd sacrificed to keep everyone alive already.
"Uh, seems, like a good plan," Beau said. "I think me and Yasha could make a good team. The team of two, I mean. Because we're both strong," she said, rubbing her neck.
"Subtle," Molly mumbled in her ear with a wicked grin.
She punched him in the arm. "Shut up."
Yasha just rolled her eyes.
"I guess I'm coming with you lot then," Molly said, directing his blinding grin at Caleb and Nott. "Should be fun."
"Something like that," Caleb agreed. Beau's clumsy flirting was a blessing in disguise if it meant he didn't have to be the sole focus on Nott's insightful gaze for the next half hour.
With that, the shore party disembarked. The dock creaked under the weight of their boots.
The black lake spread out behind them like an oil slick, with odd, crooked tree branches puncturing the surface like broken fingers, weighed down by moss and slime. The dock to which The Yohimbe was moored stretched over the dark water on perilously thin stilts with several trailing claw marks at the base. Some looked fresh.
The familiar town of Berleben grew from the mire in front of them in various states of decay, as ramshackle and off-kilter as Caleb remembered. The area smelled overwhelmingly of stagnant water and rotting plant life, that, when combined with the thick, boiling air made even breathing feel laborious.
"We'll take right and you go left?" Beau suggested as they stood at the end of the dock.
"See you in thirty minutes," Molly said, shooting Yasha a playful grin before starting off in the opposite direction. The two groups broke apart, and Nott caught up to Molly's side while Caleb trailed behind, trying to process all of Berleben's overwhelmingly unpleasant sensations.
To their left, several more boats were moored to the docks, motionless in the still water. Sailors and merchants loaded and unloaded their cargo, carrying mysterious crates and sacks to and fro. Berleben's trading distract was a patchwork of impermanent fishmonger-style stands crammed between actual storefronts covered in so much lichen they must've predated the Empire. At times Caleb could scarcely tell where the swamp ended and where the buildings began.
They passed several stalls full of what you'd expect from a swamp trading post—jagged fishing spears, nets woven with broken glass, fruit already half-rotten, and linens stained with the bog's grime. Pale fish with blind eyes hung from hooks, attracting swarms of flies.
"I know it's unlikely, but if you guys notice any nice paper or ink, please let me know," Caleb said, forcing himself to speak above the din of the swamp and marketplace combined.
"And a new dress for Jester," Molly added. "If we have the time."
Caleb nodded. It was a good thought. He wasn't sure any of the three of them really understood Jester's taste, but the sentiment would at least lift her spirits. Mollymauk was good about that.
"Oh, that looks promising," Molly said, pulling them towards a shop with dusty bottles in the window. They entered the ill-lit store just to find it even hotter and more humid than the outside air. Sweat rolled down Caleb's neck soaking into his collar. He ignored it in favor of scanning the menagerie of wares piled on every shelf. Potions and elixirs of all sorts covered every available surface. Acids bubbled green, and tonics caught the light that wasn't there, glinting golden in the shade. Nott poked at blackened, opaque flask in the corner that leaked smoke.
"How can I help?" asked a rough voice. A female halfling, middle-aged though her pockmarked face aged her further, popped up from behind the counter. She held a pipe lazily in a gnarled hand and scanned them with disinterest. "You look like the adventuring sort," she concluded.
"Right you are," Molly said, walking up to speak with the woman. "We're in need of—"
"Sold out of health potions," she said, cutting him off. She used her pipe to gesture to the singular area of blank space in the store—a narrow bit of shelf where the imprint of several bottles in the dust still remained. "Gotta wait for the next herb supply before I can make more," she said.
"Ah, I see," Molly said with a frown, flicking his tail as his considered their next option.
"Have things been dangerous in the swamp recently?" Caleb asked and took a step forward as well.
The halfling laughed, rough and gravely from a lifetime of smoking. "Honey, things are always dangerous in Labenda."
"More than usual?" Caleb asked, fighting down a sigh.
She took another draft on her pipe, pausing to consider the question for several moments before blowing two streams of thick smoke out her nose. "A little bit. Apparently, a couple weeks back some other of you adventuring types got the merrows all riled up. They've been a little feisty ever since."
"What a weird coincidence," Nott said.
"Truly strange," Molly added.
"Uh-huh," the halfling said, giving them a critical look.
"You wouldn't happen to know if anyone still has any type of healing supplies on them? We're passing through and we've got a sick friend on board," Molly said voice that clearly was trying to play at her sympathies.
She raised a thinning eyebrow at him. "No."
"What about a healer? Someone we could pay to—" Caleb started.
"There's a temple down at the end of the district," she said. "You can try and find a healer there, but these days even the fishermen have been running them ragged."
Molly sighed before meeting Caleb's gaze. "I guess that's where we're headed then."
Letting Nott take one last longing glance at the store, the three left and continued on their way.
"Did you see all her potions, Caleb?" Nott asked, twisting again to get another glance at the storefront. "I wonder how many of those I could make."
"With the right ingredients and a little practice, all of them, I'm sure," Caleb said, and a grin split her face.
"You know, Nott, I've heard Ice Haven is big on alchemy too. I'll bet they have loads of shops just like that one," Molly said.
"Preferably less humid," Caleb said and wiped the sweat of his brow.
"Hopefully Beau and Yasha are having more luck than we are," Molly said, glancing around them at the variety of wares that were anything but healing supplies. Berleben had a more diverse population that Zadash, probably thanks to the sheltering nature of the Labenda Swamp. Lizardfolk passed them with necklaces made of fishbones, a kenku draped in hanging moss tried to sell them warped candles, and even a tortle lumbered past them with old broken arrows sticking out of his shell.
After another ten minutes of weaving through the market district, they found the edge of it, marked by a mammoth banyan tree that grew on top of a decomposing stone temple. It's pale roots, each as thick as Caleb's thigh, flowed over the roof, curling in and out of windows and crushing the stonework under their weight before continuing up into a massive trunk that broke into an explosion of branches far over their heads. With the dappled sunlight filtering through, it felt like looking up at the rippling surface of a river while submerged beneath.
After pulling his gaze away from the spectacle, Caleb focused on the lichen-covered building before them. The interior of the temple seemed dark, causing Molly to pause and look back at Nott and Caleb for confirmation.
Before they could make a decision, a human woman, old a sin, stepped out of the interior. Her loose skin draped off her casually, mirroring the banyan tree's roots along with her long, tangled hair. She surveyed them over a large pair of fogged-over glasses that rested on the edge of her sharp nose.
"Healers are booked today if that's what you're after," she said before they could get a word out.
"We're willing to pay—" Molly began.
"Even the beggars are. But there's a little girl at The Lovely Jug who got caught up in a glass net this morning, and four brothers bleeding out outside The Ruthless Willow because fish people bit their legs off," she said and hobbled past them, leaning on a walking stick just as gnarled as she was.
"When will they be back?" Caleb asked.
"Oh, they'll be running themselves thin until after sundown. Pick an inn and stick there a couple days and I'll send them around when one of them has a moment," she suggested.
"I'm afraid our needs are a bit more pressing," Molly said, catching up to walk beside her. "You see one of our friends has fallen ill, so we really need a healer to come visit her on our boat before we depart."
She laughed throatily at that, then looked to him with a resigned smile. "Half the people in the city are ill. Joining the waiting list is the only way to receive our temple's services. I'm sorry," she said earnestly, patting Mollymauk's bicep with a brittle hand.
They watched her wander off into Berleben's mess of buildings before turning to each other.
"What now?" Nott asked, looking to Caleb, who could only shrug.
"We need to start heading back. We're going to run out of time," he said with a frown.
"Hopefully Beau and Yasha found something," Molly said, running his hands through his hair.
"What will we do if they didn't?" Nott asked. "What about Jester?"
Caleb sighed, kicking a pebble by his shoe. It sunk into the lake with a 'plop'. "We'll just have to be careful not to get injured until we get to Ice Haven."
"Shouldn't be too difficult," Molly reasoned. "Besides, she could still get better by herself before we get there. These things usually pass on their own."
So it was that with heads hung low in defeat and with slumped shoulders, Molly, Caleb, and Nott made their way back towards where The Yohimbe was moored. As they rounded the corner and the familiar barge came into view, so did the two tall figures standing by the beginning of the dock. Beau and Yasha chatted with each other while crew members filtered past them and boarded the vessel.
Upon seeing them, Nott scampered forward to meet them.
"Any luck?" she and Beau asked at the same time.
"Guess that means no," Caleb murmured, and Molly hummed in agreement.
"We did find some more nettle," Yasha said, offering up a fist-size package up for viewing.
"The shopkeep said we should trying putting it in tea this time," Beau said. "Couldn't tell if he was bullshitting us or not."
Molly chuckled. "Yeah, you were probably scammed, but it's worth a shot anyway."
"If we had more time…" Yasha trailed off, glancing back at The Yohimbe, where no doubt Whitney was aboard, scowling with crossed arms and waiting for time to be up.
"We've only got about five more minutes," Caleb said helplessly. "Did you find any paper or ink?"
"Or something for Jester?" Molly asked.
Beau shrugged. "The first booth over there has some bins of clothes, but we didn't have the time to stop and look through," she said, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder at a nearby stall.
"Worth a shot I suppose," Molly said, leaving Caleb's side for the booth beyond.
"I guess we'll go take this to Jester then," Yasha said, looking down at the package in her large hands. She glanced up at Caleb, then over to Molly, then back to Caleb. "He loses track of time easily. Can you make sure he gets on the boat?" she asked.
"Yeah," Caleb said with a nod.
Beau and Yasha turned toward the boat, while Nott paused between them and Caleb, biting her lip.
"Go see Jester. I'll be fine for a couple minutes out here," he said.
With one last glance at him, Nott broke from his side to catch up with the two women ahead of her.
Caleb leaned back on a crate to wait. He hadn't found his paper, so he'd need to come up with other activities to occupy his time on board from now on. Maybe reread that subpar Xhorhasian romance novel? Maybe not. It was unpleasant the first time around, and now that he knew about the events that were going to unfurl in the years to come, he'd had enough of Xhorhas, thanks.
He checked the shadows again before pushing himself off the crate. Around him, crew members began to work at the knots anchoring The Yohimbe to the docks. It was time to retrieve a certain purple tiefling from being stranded in the swamp.
Just as Caleb stepped towards the stand, Mollymauk stepped out with a swathe of peach fabric in his hands and a satisfied grin on his face.
Caleb gestured towards The Yohimbe with a look that he hoped convey some sense of urgency and stepped onto the dock towards the boat. Molly swung the fabric over his shoulder and began to push his way through the throng of people between them. The embroidery on his coat snagged on the jagged armor of a passing triton and the force sent them both spinning towards the ground.
Molly planted his heels at the last moment and steadied himself, but the triton wasn't so dexterous and landed on his back with a grunt, dreadlocks flying wild behind him.
"Woah, sorry about that, friend," Molly said, offering the man a hand. "I think my coat must've caught on your armor there."
The triton growled, but accepted Molly's hand and let him pull him up. "Why don't you watch where—" he paused mid-sentence, face screwing up in confusion as he looked at Mollymauk.
Molly released his hand, but the triton did not, keeping him there.
"I apologize, but I really need to get going," Molly said, trying to pull away and take a step towards Caleb, who was already reaching for his component pouch just in case.
The triton slipped his hand up and grabbed Molly by the wrist instead, twisting his arm around and pulling the back of Molly's hand close to his face.
"Ow ow ow," Molly said, face twisted in pain as he went for a scimitar with his free hand.
The triton's eye narrowed at the sight of Molly's tattoos. The fins lining his body bristled as he narrowed his eyes. He let a name fall off his lip, heavy and rough with anger.
"Lucien."
"Oh, fuck me," Molly snarled, spinning around and trying to slice the man on a partially drawn scimitar.
The triton dropped his wrist as he dodged Molly's swipe and stumbled several feet back out of the blade's radius, heels inches away from the dock's edge. The triton went for his sword and Molly feinted left, stepping in and snaking his tail behind the man to pull his legs out from under him. With a boot to the gut, Molly launched him into the lake with an explosion of black water.
"Time to go!" he shouted, running for Caleb, who didn't need to be told twice.
The moment Caleb's foot touched the boat, a loud splash erupted from behind him, pelting him with water.
Caleb whipped around to find the soaking triton pulling himself onto the dock. He snatched Molly's ankle out of the air, slamming the man down with a painful crack.
Molly groaned and tried to twist out of the man's iron grip, kicking him in the face with his free leg, but the triton held tight, blood leaking down his face.
Caleb reached for his component pouch again, but the triton was already on top of Molly and trying to pin his arms.
Caleb's mind raced. Magic missile was the only thing he had that wouldn't hit Mollymauk, but he'd reviewed so many spells in the past twenty-four hours without giving that once a glance. It was so basic why would he need to? But in his mind the magical patterns were hazy at the edges and he tried to cycle through runes for the missing piece of the enchantment.
Rolling on the dock, Molly elbowed the man's armored chest, and the triton kneed him in the ribs in turn with another loud crack. Molly cried out in pain and headbutted the man. It knocked his head back, but he refused to loosen his grip. He pinned Molly's hand behind his back and reached for a crooked knife strapped to his belt.
"Caleb," Molly cried, locking gazes with the man in front of him. "Fire!"
And so Caleb did.
…
I'd make a playlist for this fic but all it'd be is 'Trust' by the Neon Trees seven times with 'Liar Liar' by Avicii thrown in once for good measure.
Also y'all are totally welcome to point out typos and the like. I do definitely proofread my stuff, but I'm positive some slip through anyway. Commenters are the sugar in my tea. The sun in my sky. The grated parmesan on my roasted asparagus.