Chapter Nineteen
The only greeting the brigands really received from the three upon entering the clearing was the purple robed one's sigh and note of "I warned you something would happen. We are doomed." The other two elves were busy exchanging distressed glances, though somehow they seemed quite relieved to see it wasn't what they were expecting, whatever that might have been.
The band was composed of mostly rough men without much to show in the way of wits, some of them half-orcs, the rest humans, though all infallibly dressed in crudely made hide armors. Furthermore, the last four were strong, big centaurs armed with a score of sharp-tipped pikes each. Oddly enough, the leader, though clearly capable, muscular and fierce-looking as she was, was a woman; but that was by far the least of the reasons she stood out for.
Her own clothes and boots were elegant and tastefully picked, the dominating colors brown and green, to fit with the current setting and with the masterpiece studded leather that was all she had in the way of protection. Her hair, of a strange sandy color, but long and healthily thick, had been combed carefully and the strands that would have otherwise draped her cheeks were clasped together at the back, while the rest ran loosely down her neck and shoulders. Her features, covered by slightly tanned skin, did not impose on anyone through some unexpected amount of beauty, but the superior and carefree expression, along with some lively flickers in the defiant green eyes, made for quite a sight.
None of the three failed to notice those differences and they immediately wondered what the woman would be doing with a band of thugs and ruffians like those; and most of all, they couldn't fathom how she managed to keep the brutes in place. However, the men were, some way or another, completely subdued to their elegant leader, and that was really all that mattered right at that moment. Possibly they were hired hands, as the woman looked wealthy enough, and the prospect of gold kept them in place.
Each of the three looked at her intently for a different reason. Knave was the most intrigued of them, quite unable to help wondering who she was, exactly, and what she wanted from them. Nirra was wary and distrustful, but at the same time had to admire this woman who was not only leading, but also so confidently turning her back on a band that would most likely be tempted to bash her head and steal whatever they could of her possessions. As for our gloomy moon elf, he wasn't all too interested in any of those things, but was merely searching the leader and her band for weapons, wondering which one was going to end his life. He had to admit, the finely crafted darts or daggers she bore looked far more attractive than the clumsy tip of a primitive spear or the huge blade of a rusty sword.
The respectful, tense silence was maintained until the leading woman stopped a few steps away from the group of three, her band left a few good feet behind. Her stride was determined and fearless and she held her head raised high, somehow seeming to dominate even Knave, despite his half-charming half-contemptuous smirk.
"My greetings," she dipped her head low as she spoke firmly, though with a subtle Shaaryan accent. That was a speech mark that rarely vanished completely, which all in all left Knave with too little in the way of doubt regarding her origins. Nirra looked even more confused, while the purple robed moon elf was obviously in the process of trying to place that very same accent which had told the human mage everything. "And those of my men, of course," the woman continued, smirking amusedly and half-turning to point at the band with a hand gesture.
"Formalities," Knave remarked in a highly ironical fashion. "Why, I wonder, do they strike me as unexpected?"
The two elves' eyes widened at his daring reply and they both turned to regard him in a flash, quite awed and distressed. But the strange woman only laughed heartily and shook her head. "The same is it unexpected for them to be received so... unusually," she replied.
"True enough," the human mage shrugged, as the elves were relaxing visibly at his sides. "Though I wouldn't be quick to exchange formalities with anyone when a normally quiet and peaceful place like this one suddenly grows... crowded."
"I agree with you there," the woman nodded, a bit of her smile fading from her lips. Her men were shifting and had begun quarreling with each other, somewhere in the background, but they otherwise sat quite peacefully in their given spots, which was still unbelievable to the three.
"What is it, then, that you wish from us?" the human mage brought the conversation back to its actual point.
"Let me first introduce myself," the stern woman replied. "My name is Amirah Maali."
"Ironically enough," remarked Knave, "with the proper literary adjustments, it would end up translating as 'the noble leader', in Common terms." He took a moment to flash a triumphant smile at the suddenly surprised woman, then changed the subject. "Anyway, I am Selvord Knave – Knave will do. This is Nehera" – he hesitantly looked to Nirra for confirmation – "...Erenlin, and he is... err..." The mage found himself forced to turn towards their depressed companion expectantly.
"Me?" he startled and took a small, barely noticeable step backwards. "Xan," he said insecurely. "Xan... of Evereska."
The mage didn't spend much time wondering why the moon elf had added the name of the place he had come from, rather than anything else, and just turned back to the once again amused Amirah. "Now, since introductions are over," he resumed, "may we know what it is that you wish?"
"I want the very same thing the Talassans are after," she moved straight to the point.
Somewhere, Xan groaned audibly and didn't fail to notice how doomed they were, yet again, but aside from a bemused Amirah, everyone failed to take note of him.
"Oh, so now we have two groups on our trail," Knave whistled admiringly, without the fact managing to discard his good disposition.
"Three, actually," the woman grinned to him most charmingly.
"All the better," he appeared unaffected; quite pleased, actually. "Tell me, though. Why exactly is it that you are seeking it?"
"That I will not let you know," Amirah denied him access to that knowledge briskly. "I will only say that the object is far more valuable than you can imagine."
"Knave," Nirra interfered worriedly, daring to come at his side and regard Amirah directly. "You know I cannot..."
The woman interrupted her when she took an abrupt step towards her, eyeing the fragile, soft hand the gold elf had placed on the mage's shoulder. On its ring-finger, the reward received at the Temple of Umberlee shone plainly, like any other silver item would have in the fading afternoon light. However, it was obviously the object of Amirah's sudden interest. "There it is," the woman said, stopping just two feet away. "If you could be so kind as to hand it over, I would reimburse you. I'd be most pleased if I didn't have to kill you for it."
Nirra shook her head and sheepishly withdrew, hiding behind the mage's taller form, for whatever protection she thought to find there. "I cannot," she uttered fearfully, watching Amirah frown her way. "It's not that I don't want to. I would be happy to rid myself of it, but I cannot take it off."
"And why is that?" the woman demanded to know, her patience nearing a limit.
"Odd that you are all after this little item, yet none of you know all about it," Knave put in quite unceremoniously. "She spoke the truth. The ring cannot be taken off, because it is heavily cursed so that it will stay there until we have visited a very powerful cleric." He paused to glare at Amirah, who appeared to be taken aback by the news. "Of course," he then added sarcastically, "the last cleric we've tried to explain that to was a most 'benevolent' Talassan who failed to even listen, not to mention understand."
"Charming," the rogue-looking woman remarked coolly. "Very well then. I suppose the confrontation couldn't be avoided for long once I actually got the ring, anyway." She stood there, thoughtful, trying to come to a final decision.
"Oh, I know," interjected Xan darkly. "We are going to get dragged into a fight that isn't ours, and one where we can easily lose our lives, at that."
"Thrilling perspective, my friend," Knave nodded to him in mock-respect.
"You will accompany me to their camp," Amirah decreed at that point, allowing no objection to be made. "We will force their leader to remove the ring from your hand himself."
"And here," Xan was quick to add in again, "something tells me you know this leader, and he isn't too fond of you either."
"Astute guess," Amirah admitted, but then grinned at the three with a rather cruel kind of satisfaction. "But then again, you have no choice in the matter. Unless, that is, you have grown that bored with life."
"Life is hollow," Xan replied indifferently, shrugging. "We shall most likely perish on this futile quest of yours, anyway."
"Fine, then," Amirah didn't even attempt to look affected. "Who am I to disrespect your death wish?"
Just as she began to gesture for one of her men, and the half-orc was starting to come over, Knave cleared his throat most suggestively, and she waved the brigand back off. That seemed to confuse the mindless brute, but it stayed its moves nonetheless and returned to its previous quarrel with one of its comrades, all over a fruit they had picked from a tree nearby. Both lamentably failed to notice the significant number of other fruits in the tree.
"Please," said Nirra. "There is no gain to be had in killing him."
When Amirah didn't look convinced, the gold elf sobered up more and stepped out of Knave's shadows, trying to look tall, though her being an elf didn't help with that. Something in her eyes, though, that thing she hid most of the time and that Knave had witnessed calming down Torri in the City of Caves, surfaced again. She was pleading silently, though in a way that was demanding more than humbly requesting.
The band leader nodded shortly as she averted her eyes in a most uncomfortable fashion. "You have five minutes to confer and share whatever thoughts you wish to," she announced determinedly. "After that, you are expected to come meet the guys and follow as we point the way." She bowed shortly and turned. "And," she added, looking behind over her shoulder, "don't try to escape. I assure you that my centaurs are excellent shooters."
"I don't doubt it," Knave muttered darkly.
The three stood there and watched Amirah depart back to her men, ordering them to stop bickering and be ready, with a few senseless interjections and firm gestures, much more rather than with words. The brigands responded, and Knave noticed they were quite fearful of their leader. The woman didn't strike him as a versed warrioress, though, and he wondered, for the second time, why they respected and feared her enough to listen so promptly.
"Well?" the mage finally turned back to his own two companions, with an intent glance at Nirra. The gold elf had surprised him yet again; if Torri was difficult to control, it had been expectable that she should calm down – the gold elf was her old friend. But things were not the same with Amirah.
"Thank you both for saving my life earlier," Xan nodded to them, though still gloomy, and he didn't fail to add more. "Pointless as it has been, of course, since I am going to die in the battle."
"You are not going to die," Nirra objected, smiling to him reassuringly. She was back to her normal self now, that Amirah had gone.
"I will expend my best protection spells in your favor if you wish," Knave offered. The human mage grinned most charmingly. "I never use them for myself, anyway."
No one minded Nirra's disapproving frown, and Xan shrugged. "I thank you," he replied. "But I am a mage myself, and no spell completely wards against death."
"Three mages, then?" Knave looked surprised as he noted. "Well, this was quite what their band needed, anyway. I don't see those half-orcs as too proficient with spells."
That last remark drew a snort from even Xan himself, and Nirra giggled. "Are we ready then?" the gold elf asked, doing her best to hide her discomfort and distress from the two men.
"I guess we are," Knave raised a questioning eyebrow the moon elf's way.
Xan shrugged helplessly yet again. "I knew I had to die, eventually. This battle will do as good as any."
"No one is going to die," Knave contradicted him, a bit irate this time. "Let the fools charge headfirst and we can cast from a safe distance. I doubt they would lose to the Talassans, but in case they do, we could retreat in time."
Even Xan looked semi-convinced. "Your logic almost makes me hopeful," he remarked, though clearly not overjoyed by the perspective, as soothing as it sounded.
"Knave," Nirra interjected, suddenly worried as she had remembered something. "How about Torri and Solaufein?"
"Hasn't our friend here already deemed Torri dead, and the drow on the run?" Knave joked, but seeing Nirra's serious scowl, he continued. "I am sure we'll find them, but at the moment, they're the last thing we should be concerned with."
Nirra sighed and hesitated, unable to just discard her friend like that. "You... you are right," she finally nodded, doing her best to look determined and ready.
"Let's go, then," Knave urged. "Our dear friends are growing impatient."
He took the lead on the way to the large band of men, and Nirra followed promptly, not without throwing a last smile Xan's way, one that wished to appear encouraging, but was too weak for that. The moon elven mage sighed heavily and followed, though he did all he could to delay the moment of 'meeting the guys'.