(10:00 PM)
Shrieking as loudly as her tender voice would allow, the young minstrel unsuccessfully tried to pull her arm away from the aquatic beast. The worst part was that nobody would hear her over the rumbling from the rolling thunder overhead. The sahuagin fish-man open its toothy maw and let out a sharp hissing noise, sending a few drops of ice-cold spittle flying into Nell's face.
Flailing her arm around to no avail, Nell used her free hand to snatch the lantern from the ceiling hook beside the window and swung it forward overhand, smashing the glass over the creature's head as it struggled to climb further inside her cabin.
As the glass broke, a coat of flaming oil splashed out over the sahuagin's head, prompting the creature to release the woman and start smacking its own scaly scalp to put out the fire. The frantic actions were enough to make the monster slip and lose its hold on the side of the hull, and Nell watched as the hissing invader fell back from the window into the rain, before disappearing below the surface of the waves.
Nell stuck her head out the cabin window briefly, just as a bolt of lightning struck the waters in the distance. In that brief flash of illumination, the minstrel saw to her horror that there were at least a dozen other sahuagin warriors latched onto different spots on the outside of the ship's hull. The closest one seemed to notice her and slowly began to crawl across the hull toward her.
Slamming the window shut, the young woman stumbled backward and nearly fell over as she raced for the door to the corridor. She had to warn the sailors before the invaders managed to –
A loud ringing noise pierced the air, coming from the top deck. From all around, Nell could hear the distant shouts and battle cries of the sailors, as they no doubt began to engage the ship's boarders. A few sailors emerged from cabins nearby and immediately ran past, each carrying a short cutlass or sabre of some kind. "We're being boarded by sahuagin! Fish-folk!" shouted a voice from up above, "To arms, men!"
Nell noticed ship's first mate hurrying toward her, and she managed to catch his attention. Tarin grabbed her by the arm and pointed in the direction of the stairs to the lower decks. "Hide down below and find somewhere safe to wait out the battle. Don't worry, if we're being attacked by sahuagin, they won't be able to breach the hull, so they'll have to first fight their way past our men before they can reach you."
Nodding quickly, Nell and the first mate parted ways, rushing off in opposite directions. As the young minstrel descended the steps toward the lower levels, she only prayed that she wasn't walking further into a trap with no escape.
(10:04)
"Ah, home sweet home," Cerdan said to himself as he approached the thieves' guildhouse. "Except for the fact that I don't actually live here, of course…"
There was no doubt that at least half a dozen hidden guild scouts had bow-sights trained on him from the darkness as he casually strolled down the street. But Tomar was the type who loved to gloat first and shoot later, so Cerdan knew the watchers would have been ordered to stay their hands, at least until after he was inside the building. Still, there was little use in causing a commotion on his arrival, so the elf instead slipped down the alleyway at the side of the building and made his way toward one of the guild's less-used side entrances.
When he was about halfway toward the door, however, it suddenly opened wide and a familiar blonde human woman stepped out onto the unpaved dirt path. Kretia's eyes widened and she halted in the doorway when she saw the elf advancing. "You're alive!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe it!"
"Evening, Kretia. Lovely night for a stroll, isn't it? How's Seff doing?" Cerdan smiled warmly and nudged past her into the guildhouse, stepping calmly as if nothing was wrong.
"He – he's up and active now, but…" she hurried after him. "Tomar has taken the title of guildmaster from you. He says–"
"Ah, that Tomar… what won't he say? Such a character! Even if he is a little on the witless side." The elf cast a look over his shoulder and cocked his head in the direction of the hallway. "Well, come on now. Let's go have a chat with the new, esteemed 'guildmaster'."
Tomar sounded less than chipper when Cerdan entered the guildmaster's office. Seated in the elf's old padded chair, the new guildmaster abruptly ceased his conversation with Seffron and focused his full attention on the elf. "So, you finally slipped up, did you? Good work in bringing this traitor before me, Kretia. And much sooner than I expected."
"Er, he actually came voluntarily, Tomar."
"Well, I imagine no one gave him credit for being the brightest candle in the room, anyway." Standing from behind the desk, Tomar came around to stand face to face with the elven rogue. "We know all about your dealings with the faithmongers, and this time I have actual proof of your betrayal." He snatched a creased sheet from the top of the desk and shoved it in Cerdan's face, clearly enjoying having the upper hand for once.
Keeping his tongue in check for a moment, the elf leaned back slightly and briefly scanned the message. His eyes fell on the signature scrawled at the bottom of the parchment: Lenthyrr. That name sounded oddly familiar, though he couldn't recall where he'd heard it at the moment. It wasn't particularly important anyway; he'd never seen this letter before in his life.
"Oh, of course," Cerdan said aloud, rolling his eyes as he glanced to the side at Seffron and Kretia. "Because I always remember to leave my incriminating evidence just lying atop my desk for all the thieves in the house to see. It's that type of sharp thinking that got me to the leadership position where I am today. Or yesterday, at any rate." He fixed his eyes on Tomar again. "Praytell, do you really expect me of all people to fall for your planted lies?"
"It wasn't on your desk, it was in the secret stash underneath your chair. Kretia showed me where it was after you abandoned your charge to prance around with that red-haired woman, your precious Lenthyrr."
"Mmm. That's almost a theory. But the fact is that you're probably as bad a detective as I am, for not seeing the truth."
"And what truth would that be?" asked Tomar, folding his arms.
Cerdan began to slowly pace back and forth, letting his hands dance around in the air as he spoke. "There is a traitor in the guild, but it isn't me. In fact, the person we've been looking for is right here in this very room." With a quick dart of his right hand, Cerdan suddenly grabbed Kretia by the wrist and then swept his foot against the back of her leg, driving her down to one knee. Wasting no time, the elf snatched the dagger from the sheath on her belt and held it up against her neck.
"Guards!" Tomar shouted instantly. He started fumbling for his own blade, but Seffron stepped in and moved between the current and former guildmasters.
"Cerdan, you can't be serious. I didn't think you'd betray us, but now you come and blame Kretia? Why would you possibly expect us to believe that she's working for the agents of Tyr?"
"Not the Church of Tyr, a celestial named Cyrael. Long story, and I'm too annoyed to bother telling the whole thing." Cerdan looked the blonde woman in the eye. "But it was you all along. You were the only other person who knew where Seffron would be this morning, so you arranged to have him shot by a sniper. You've been subtly pushing Tomar and I at each other's throats these past few months. If you knew where my hidden vault was, you probably planted that false letter, too. And just a few minutes ago, you said 'you're alive!' when you saw me. Not 'you're here' or 'you've returned'; you expected that Cyrael or this Lenthyrr person would kill me. Not to mention the fact that, as the guild's head assassin, you're the person in the best position to leak the movements of our enforcers and agents through the city."
Tomar snorted loudly. "Do you expect us to just swallow all that? None of what you just said proves a thing. Far as I can tell, either one of you could have betrayed us, but I'm certain it was you."
"Yes, but the difference between the two of us is that I know I'm not a traitor. Tell me, did you have our guild cleric perform a divination on that message?"
"He doesn't have divining spells, he's used most of his magic for healing today, and you know it."
"Actually, he's been stealing most of his spells today from that red-haired woman – whose name is Selena, by the way, not Lenthyrr – who just happens to be the best diviner I know. Have our guild cleric cast a simple divining spell or two, and he'll be able to tell you that I never even touched this letter before today, whereas Kretia probably wrote the whole damn thing herself." He released his hold on Kretia, and pushed her down on the floor. The woman had remained oddly silent throughout the entire exchange, which left the elf suspicious as to what she was planning.
Before the others could offer a retort, the door to the office flew open and Bryn barged inside. "Guildmaster!"
"What is it?" Cerdan and Tomar asked simultaneously.
"Uh…" The boy glanced between the two for a moment, then settled on Cerdan first. "There's a piece of news for each of you, actually. Cerdan, Priestess Shademoor is here to see you. She's waiting outside, around the back."
"Again?" Cerdan asked, "She just can't seem to leave me alone, even when she hates me to the bone. I'm just that great."
"…And guildmaster Tomar, our scouts have spotted another band of armoured knights entering the district, only this time they're making a direct line for our guildhouse."
"What?!" Kretia shouted as she began to stand. Cerdan pressed the point of the dagger against the back of her neck to keep her in place.
The guildmaster thrust a finger at the elf. "You. You led them here!"
"Would you please get a new tune for once? You know, Kretia was trying to slip out the side entrance when I arrived here."
Seffron shook his head, "I can't believe that she would turn against us."
"Bryn," said Kretia, speaking above the others. "Are you certain they're coming here?"
"Pretty sure. By the path they're taking, they're definitely coming after us, unless they have some problem with that fish store down at the far end of the street."
"Then it seems my time here is done. Farewell to you all," Kretia replied. She suddenly shouted a string of syllables, and a flash of light erupted from her body, sending Cerdan reeling backward. The light cleared in a few moments and, predictably enough, she was gone.
After a few seconds of stunned quiet, Cerdan suddenly let out a sharp laugh. "Ha! Absolution! I just love it whenever I get to say 'I told you so'!"
"Oh, shut up, elf. This doesn't prove–"
"I think it does well enough, Tomar." Cerdan said with a pointed stare. "See? This is why you should always listen to me."
Seffron merely stared at the spot where Kretia had been and shook his head sadly.
Bryn cleared his throat. "Uh, sirs? The approaching squadron of knights?"
Growling under his breath, Tomar tossed his hands in the air. "Fine, we'll put aside this matter of your apparent defection, until after we've resolved this current problem."
Moving around behind the desk, Cerdan pushed the chair out of the way and opened his secret compartment in the floor. "I think you mean, after you've resolved it." The elf rummaged through a number of old documents and knickknacks, and removed some gemstones and a few slips of paper, pocketing them as he went on. "After all, Tomar, you're the guildmaster. So go on, master your guild, because I'm out."
"What, you're just packing up and leaving us with this mess?" Seffron exclaimed.
Tomar planted his hands on the desk and loomed forward, looking down at the former guildmaster. "If you think this is going to make your problems disappear, elf, you're mistaken."
"Well, it seems we all have so much on our plates right now," said the elf as he closed the compartment and stood up. "Even if you do manage to weather this problem, you're also going to have to deal with our guild bosses, the Shades. They won't look too kindly on your little rebellion to steal power from me, especially when the real guild traitor was supporting your uprising."
"If you think I'll just stand back and let you slide out of here…"
A slight smirk formed on Cerdan's lips as he took a sheathed rapier down from its mount on the wall. "Please. We both know that you're no fighter. And no offense, Seffron, but you wouldn't stand a chance against me in armed combat. By the way, where are those guards you called for earlier? Dereliction of duty is a sign of poor management, you know." He strapped the weapon to his side and tugged it snugly into place. Feeling ever so full of himself, the elf strode past the two guild members and caught Bryn by the ear, dragging the protesting boy after him as Tomar continued to glower.
"Don't think you'll ever be welcomed here again, elf. You're just a thief, and a craven one at that. No one will accept you as a friend from now on. You've just abandoned your last bastion."
"Then it's a lucky thing that I'm so skilled at hiding. Believe me, Tomar, I've been running from enemies much more powerful than you, and for a very long time." Cerdan tipped an imaginary hat and gave an apologetic nod to Seffron. "I'm sorry about Kretia, Seff. Don't feel bad, though, she really wasn't your type anyway." With that said, the elf walked out bold as brass, knowing full well that he probably would never see either guild member again.
"Jackass," muttered someone as Cerdan closed the door behind him.
(10:14)
"So why'd you come back?" asked Bryn, following the elf as they made their way toward one of the guild's back entrances.
"The real question is, why did you come back here when I explicitly told you to stay away?"
"Uh…" The boy scratched his head and shifted his shoulders slightly. "Well, there was this first bunch of knights patrolling the district earlier today, and I thought the higher-ups might want to catch wind of it, you know?"
Cerdan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Things aren't going to be very pleasant around here any time soon. Now that I'm out, there's going to be a pretty strong shift of power as Tomar cracks down on anyone who wasn't loyal to him. That includes you." The elf paused and turned to face the kid. "You ought to go back to your father in Waterdeep. Probably should have sent you packing months ago, really."
"What, alone? Where are you going?"
"I have my own loose ends that need to be either tied up or tied down." The elf drew two small pieces of paper from his pocket and passed them to the boy. "Here are two tickets for a ship out of the city to Waterdeep. The captain owes me a few favours, and I happen to know that he's in port right now. Trust me, a fight with the knights is no way for a bright lad like yourself to perish."
"Uh… okay. But what's the second one for?"
"See for yourself," Cerdan said, pointing ahead.
Near the door leading out to the street stood a young girl, roughly the same age as Bryn, standing against the wall and holding a familiar grey cat in her arms. Cerdan stopped before the door to lightly scratch the feline on the neck, and it let out a mew of indifference. "You can keep Jinx, too. If things keep going the way they have, I'll probably end up dead or crippled soon. Then I won't be in any condition to feed him, which he'd find annoying. Besides, I think he likes Linde here."
The girl passed the cat to Bryn, and stared at the boat ticket in puzzlement as he handed it to her in exchange. Cerdan repeated what he said earlier by gesturing out some quick hand signs to Linde, and then reached for the door handle.
"So that's it?" Bryn asked, just as Cerdan was about to leave them. "You're just up and running away from all this and sending us two off on our own?"
"It wouldn't be the first time for me. Besides, your father is a bitter old cripple with a growing grudge against me; I owe him at least some peace of mind after all that I've been through with him, and so do you. So go home, boy. No one survives into their elder years by picking pockets in a grimy corner of the city like this."
"You're giving up on the life pretty quick."
"It was a nice diversion for a decade or three, but to be honest with you, kid, I wasn't born a thief and I probably won't die a thief. Same goes for you, you know."
Bryn frowned but grunted a quiet 'okay', leaving the elf satisfied that the two kids would be on their way out of the city before daybreak. Turning away from the pair, Cerdan opened the door and stepped out of the guildhouse into the dry, dusty street. Squinting around through the moonlight, he saw that Selena waited a few metres away, standing beside another marked warhorse of Tyr, much as she had done earlier in the day. Except this time, her arms were folded over her chest and she was fixing the rogue with a stare that could freeze a dragon's breath.
With a nonchalant wave, Cerdan stepped closer to the redhead. "Back again, I see. Perhaps you've returned to haul me away to jail again? Or maybe you've softened your bull-headed judgment over my past actions?"
"Don't assume that my coming here is a sign of forgiveness," snapped the elven woman, holding her ground like a sentinel. "The only reason for my coming here is because I'm positive that you are at the centre of this whole mess, whether you know it or not. Someone has been raising whispers about your past to ignite the High Prelate's inner fire, and I want to know how Caden the Bloodletter is connected with the missing Sigils. As of now, you're just a means to an end as we search for Cyrael."
"I see. 'We' meaning you, me, and the small army you brought traipsing into the neighbourhood a few minutes ago?"
"Army? What are you on about?"
"A whole big squad of knights marched into the district a little while after you arrived!" Bryn piped up from behind Cerdan, back at the doorway.
Cerdan watched Selena's face, and saw a genuine look of confusion. He noticed a few months back that the movement of the woman's eyebrows was the key to reading her; she really wasn't very good at hiding what she was feeling, despite what she believed. On top of that, she was by far one of the worst liars he'd ever met. Much unlike himself.
She shook her head, "I didn't lead them to this place. I… resigned my position at the temple. I suppose I'm an ordinary cleric of Tyr once more."
"Maybe someone's been following you, and they summoned the rest," said the boy.
Waving a dismissive hand at the boy, Cerdan shouted, "And maybe you should mind your own business and get out of town like I told you." Bryn frowned at them for a moment, but closed the door and Cerdan heard it lock behind him.
He turned his attention back to the red-haired elf. "So, you gave up your priesthood for me? That's a pretty drastic flip, especially for someone so staunch. I had no idea I was so important to you, I'm touched."
"Don't be ridiculous. I did what was necessary to extract myself from the Prelate's obsessive hunt for you. If there is a squadron of knights coming, they're not going to stop until they find you. There is a greater plan at work here."
Cerdan snorted. "Considering how Cyrael jerked us around on strings like puppets, I'm hardly surprised."
"No, that isn't what I mean. I'm talking about this entire journey, from Caden's Hill to today. I need to believe that the powers that be have brought us to this point for a reason, and that by helping you I'm somehow carrying out Tyr's will." She added under her breath, "I have to keep faith in this."
She mounted her horse and then held out a hand to block Cerdan's approach. "You're not riding with me this time. Follow by foot, for all I care. Just be sure my fellow faithful don't catch up, or the Prelate will have you executed on the spot."
He tilted his head to the side slightly and crossed his arms. "So where to now, oh wise one? I have a few ideas. We could check the shipping warehouses over on the other side of town, assuming of course that my delicate elven feet can carry me."
"Why? What do you know?"
"I made a detour after you set me loose from the temple. Turns out one of our esteemed Dukes of Baldur's Gate was replaced by a shapeshifter of some kind, one who is working out of Cyrael's pocket, no less. Apparently the celestial had him steal some sort of wild magic artifact and it's currently on a boat for Waterdeep." He paused to rub his chin. "I didn't get much out of him before he scurried through that gilded mirror, though..."
"Putting aside the no doubt illegal issue of how you even managed to acquire this information, what could we possibly do at the docks if the lead has already left harbour? Surely there must be a more solid path." When she said this, Cerdan merely shrugged and leaned his head forward ever so slightly, staring at the former priestess expectantly. She obviously had something to add, hopefully a better idea than his own half-arsed plan. Selena continued, "You said he went through a gilded mirror? One made of gold, with angular symbols etched into different points along the frame?"
"That's right. I saw him touch a sequence that turned the pane into a portal, but it shattered after our good man Dace barrelled on through, with all the subtlety of a bull in heat I might add."
"Typical. In any case, I recall seeing a gilded mirror like that back when we were searching the upper floor of Cordas' brothel. If you can recall the sequence…"
He clapped his hands in a single beat and advanced on the woman's horse. "Say no more, we're off. But it would be a mite faster if we could share your mount…"
"Stop it," she said, tugging on the reins to move a few steps away from the rogue. "You just don't understand it, do you? After all this time betraying my trust by hiding your secret, you expect me to simply forget everything and follow along quietly like a good girl? No, I'm not helping you anymore; you are helping me. Gods know you owe it to the world after what you've done."
Cerdan felt a lump form in his throat, and he watched as the cleric began to ride her horse down the street. The rogue had to step along at a brisk pace to keep up. "Hm. By the way, you ever hear that old saying, 'You're cute when you're angry'? Well, it's not true. At all."
"Oh, shut up."
(10:21)
It felt shameful to Nell, cowering there in the corner of the closet and clutching nothing but an old mop for protection, but it was far better than the alternatives. In some ways, it was like she was a child again, clinging to her sheets for fear of the monsters hiding under her bed or just outside her room. Except of course that in this case the monsters were real and trying to slaughter the sailors of the Ever Dauntless somewhere overhead.
Still, she would only be a nuisance in a fight, unless the combatants preferred a bit of background music as they struggled. The entire ship heaved once more, this time violently enough to knock a metal pail off a shelf overhead, nearly striking the woman in the head. Ever since the invaders appeared, the ship seemed to be rocking around even worse than on her previous vessel. Whenever a wave that knocked against the boat, Nell had to brace herself against the walls, fearing that the next strike might be the one to capsize the ship.
"… to try escaping now, fool!" shouted a muffled voice from the hallway outside.
Nell heard the fast thumping of footsteps briefly pass by the door, followed by another set a few seconds later. Mustering up the courage to move, Nell peeked through the round window in the door, bracing her arm against the handle in case someone or something attempted to force its way inside.
Squinting through the glass, she could see two humans hurrying down the corridor, in the direction of the ship's cargo hold. Why they were down here, so far away from the fighting above was anyone's guess. Still, if they were down here as well, then she'd probably be far safer if she stayed alongside them when the sahuagin came down, otherwise the fish-folk might find her first. After checking that the narrow wooden hall was empty, Nell hurried after the two figures that had passed, mop in hand.
The minstrel managed to catch the side of the cargo hold door before it swung shut, and slowly entered the cramped room full of crates and barrels. Just behind one pyramid stack of boxes, Nell spotted the two who had passed her moments ago. Sprawled out upon the ground was Gorven, the silent passenger, while Captain Masque stood over the man, holding in one hand a crystal box that gave off a green glow. No doubt it was the artifact Gorven stole from this very room a mere hour past.
Far more alarming, however, was the fact that the captain's other hand had somehow become disproportionately large and clawed, like that of a grey-skinned beast. For an instant, Nell thought it might be a giant glove of some kind, but those thoughts were dismissed when the captain flexed his fingers. Masque's arm shimmered slightly, then shifted to match the tone and muscle of his beast-hand.
"Ah, dying for nothing," growled the captain, "And to think that we would have let you live, if only you'd been a bit less nosy. Pah, another human failing." Several drops of blood fell from the tip of his claws, and Nell could see a pool of red slowly growing from beneath Gorven's body. The woman put a hand to her lips, stifling a shriek, and stepped backward as she felt herself start to tremble.
She stopped as her heel touched a crate behind her, and as the minstrel turned she saw a familiar black rectangular case atop the pile. The woman let out a slight gasp and without thinking, reached out and grabbed the container.
"You there, hold it!" shouted Masque behind her.
Nell began to run, but a sudden heave of the ship caused her feet to stumble and she tripped on the tassels of the mop she was carrying in her other hand. The captain advanced on her, not even bothering to hide or explain the freakish appearance of his arm.
"You saw, didn't you?" he said, "Damnation, I knew we should have simply left you stragglers to drown out there. Like vermin, your kind, always creeping into our presence and never granting us a moment's freedom."
"Um, w-whatever's going on here, I didn't see a thing! I – I won't tell –"
"No, you won't." The captain's entire body seemed to blur briefly, and he was suddenly replaced by a grey-skinned, yellow-eyed monster. Nell didn't quite recall the type of the creature, a something-ganger.
The beast took another two steps toward the young minstrel, but there was a slight 'fizzing' noise that suddenly echoed in the hold, and the creature suddenly froze in mid-step. Its almond-shaped eyes went wide and it's toothy jaw fell open. The monster wavered in place for a beat before toppling forward on its face, and Nell could see a dagger-shaped spike of fire sticking out from the back of the creature's neck.
When the shapeshifter hit the floor, the crystal box it had been carrying rolled forward and stopped at Nell's feet. As if she weren't frightened enough, the artifact was now glowing with an angry hue of red. A sudden roar of thunder pealed through the room, erupting not from the storm outside, but from the crystal box. The blast noise only seemed to last for an instant, and was just as quickly replaced by utter silence, save for a sharp, constant ringing in Nell's ears. When her mind cleared, she realized that she was curled up in a fetal position on the ground with her hands clamped to either side of her head.
She simply lay there for several seconds until her trembling died down. Taking a deep breath, Nell staggered to her feet and instinctively secured her black instrument case over a shoulder. If there was any chance that she'd survive this trip long enough to make landfall, her violin was the one item she'd want to bring along above all else.
The crystal relic had returned to its original green glow, but that didn't set her mind at ease. With the mop in one hand, she carefully used the wooden handle to poke at the beast, staying as far from the creature's body as she could. It didn't move, and the size of the smoking wound on its neck probably meant it was dead. At least she hoped it was dead, whatever it was. There was no sign of the weapon that killed him, however.
"Nggh, wild… magic," rasped a voice from beyond the dead 'captain'. Nell looked up and saw that Gorven had managed to crawl forward on his stomach. No doubt he was the one who threw that flaming dagger to save her. She had to listen carefully to hear him, as the ringing was still lingering in her ears. "Flame arrow spell was risky."
Nell slowly stepped closer, and saw that there was a handful of deep, bleeding gashes raked across the man's back. He certainly wasn't going to survive without a healer's art. "What – what was that thing?!" she stammered.
Gorven coughed and a spatter of blood appeared on the ground before him. He struggled to hold his head up and weakly pointed toward the crystal artifact at her feet. "Doesn't matter, must keep it away. Find a wizard… magic shop in Waterdeep. Don't let…" The remainder of his sentence was interrupted as he clumsily reached up at his neck. The scarred man grabbed the collar of his tunic and managed to flip it up, exposing a small silver pin attached to the underside of the fabric.
Nell warily leaned closer and saw a moon-and-stars design etched into the face of the pin. The insignia of the Harpers.
"Save yourself," he continued, letting his head fall to the wooden floor. "Save the artifact… fighting stopped…" His eyes fell shut, almost as if he was falling a sleep, though Nell knew better.
Gorven's last two words brought Nell back to reality. The ringing in her ears had faded by now, and she noticed that the sounds of battle from the upper decks were starting to quiet down. If the sailors won, they weren't going to be pleased to learn that their captain was a monster in disguise.
Careful not to touch the creature's body, Nell moved toward the glowing artifact, and stared down at the cube's mesmerizing green glow. So that was why there was no spellcasting allowed on the ship. At least magic wasn't an issue for Nell herself.
Grabbing a cleaning rag from an open crate nearby, she carefully used the cloth to pick up the artifact without touching it. Part of her was instinctively telling her to drop the cursed thing and just leave, but the first mate would probably want to see it first.
"Ugh, this is something for those bloody adventurer-types to deal with," she murmured with a look of disdain, holding the crystal box away from her. "Last time I ever travel by boat. I swear, the gods hate me."
(10:32)
"Take one good look at the place, Linde," Bryn said aloud, signing out the words with his hands at the same time. Linde stood beside the boy as they stared up at the Shadow Thief guildhouse from across the street outside. "Probably won't be seeing it again."
The lanterns that hung from the buildings along the road began to sway slightly as a breeze passed through the district. Off in the distance, Bryn could hear the steady 'tromping' sounds of metallic boots approaching their position. Slinging a backpack over his shoulder and carrying a small lantern on a pole, the boy nudged Linde on the shoulder and motioned for her to follow.
The girl shifted her arms to get a better hold on Jinx, then reluctantly turned her gaze away from the guild base. Leaving the place behind was probably much harder for her, Bryn thought, considering that she had been a guild pickpocket for most of her life. Then again, he knew that most of her time there had been under Cerdan's watch, so with the elf tailing it out of the guild, there probably wasn't much reason for either of them to stick around.
"Wonder what I'll tell dad when I see him," Bryn mused aloud, casually signing as he spoke. "Bet he'll be surprised, huh? Out the blue, a – oof!"
Someone emerged from around the corner of a building as they passed and crashed directly into the boy, knocking him back a few steps as something wet splashed across his legs and the ground. Looking down, Bryn saw that there was now a splash of yellow paint splattered on his pants and shoes.
"Hey! You made me spill it!" shouted the stranger. Making a loud 'tsk' sound, Bryn grimaced and tried wiping at his legs, but only succeeded in smearing his hands with the paint. He held the pole-lantern higher, and saw that the stranger was in fact a young, cleanly dressed child, roughly the same age as the two junior guild members. Not only that, but the newcomer was also wearing a white robe marked with the symbol of Tyr on either side of the collar.
"My pants are ruined!" cried Bryn. Mumbling something under his breath, the church acolyte tried to push his way past, but was stopped as Bryn shoved him in the chest. The young thief glanced down and noticed that there was a flow of paint dripping out from the bottom of the pail in the acolyte's hands. The chain of yellow dots behind him was indication enough that this kid was the person leaving a trail for the approaching knights.
"Pah, go beg for a copper and buy yourself a new pair. I don't have time for your kind, so get out of my way, dirty brat!"
"Brat? How rude! I can't believe you just said that! Can you believe he just said that?" Bryn craned his head toward Linde, who had taken a large step away from the two boys. When the acolyte glanced at her as well, Bryn suddenly struck out with his fist, bopping the kid between the eyes.
The bucket of paint landed on the ground, and the acolyte toppled over backwards, audibly banging his head against the brick road. "Huh," Bryn said under his breath, rubbing his hand as the acolyte lay unmoving. "A real lightweight." He stepped closer and kneeled down to check the kid's head. There was no blood, but he'd probably have one plum of a bruise for a few weeks. "You'd think the Church would provide combat training to these kids."
Bryn raised his hands and signed out to Linde, "He'll be fine, but won't be awake for a few hours, probably. Help me move him into that alley over there. And before we go, there's something else I want to try…" The boy looked toward the bucket of yellow paint that sat on the ground nearby and smiled at what he thought was his own cleverness.
(10:36)
Making her way down the rows of cots, Charell would stop momentarily to check the condition of the more serious patients that she passed. Many of them were fellow followers of the Church of Tyr, severely injured during the day's prior chaotic events. As far as she knew, there were at least ten patients for every cleric present and far too little healing, both magical and conventional, to go around. If only the High Prelate hadn't sent away most of their faithful in pursuit of the Bloodletter… It all sounded like a waste of time, based on what the priestess had said in Caden's defense, but Charell had little time to dwell on the subject.
The woman pushed up the sleeves of her robe again and wiped the previous patient's blood from her hands. The occupant of the next bed was already bandaged and presumably stable, but he would have to remain under the care of the Church until he was strong enough to move about on his own. Charell touched the easterner's forehead, and was relieved that he didn't feel clammy or unnaturally cold.
What was the name that the priestess had used? 'Shen'? Remembering the vial that Selena had entrusted to her, the cleric brought out the thin flask from her pocket. She tilted the foreigner's head slightly and slowly, carefully dribbled the contents of the vial into Shen's mouth. Though still delirious from his blood loss, the patient was at least slightly aware of his surroundings, and he swallowed the antidote without fuss.
After waiting a few moments to make sure he showed no adverse reaction, the cleric made a mental note of his condition, and then moved on to the next patient, confident that this easterner would live to see another day.
(10:38)
The worst part was the smell. Down in the chilly dungeon beneath the criminals' hideout, Sir Rennemar could do nothing but pace his cell endlessly. It was unsettling for him to be experiencing things on this side of the bars, this feeling of unjust incarceration. Unarmed and unarmoured. The feeling of being powerless to alter your current situation, unable to act. Prelate Saudere often said that inactivity and laziness were the drugs of the common masses. The knight's restlessness was only staved off by knowledge that his brethren would be coming soon, to investigate his disappearance. Just as he was a creature of action, he was also a creature of discipline, and his failure to report in several hours ago would most definitely be noticed.
A door creaked open from somewhere overhead and the knight could hear footsteps coming down the spiral stairs at the other side of the room. He leaned forward against the bars of the cage for a better view as the person came into sight. It was the criminal with the ponytail, the one who had the gall to pick Rennemar's own pocket earlier in the past afternoon.
"Good evening, good knight! Up and awake," chimed the rogue, smiling like a jackal. "Your fellows seem to have figured out where we are, so it's time for you to help out your fellow man."
"Am I to be bait, you knave?"
"No, you're to be a distraction as our members take to the sewers and city backalleys. All we need to do is gag you and string you upside-down from a nearby rooftop ledge, and your friends will waste their time figuring out how to get you down, while us 'knaves' scatter to the wind." The thief put a hand on the hilt of his sword as he unlocked the cage door. "Oh, don't give me that look now. You go on living, we go on living, and in the end, isn't that what living is all about?"
A voice sounded from somewhere behind the thief, "For you, that question is no longer an issue." A beam of white light lanced from the shadows, striking the rogue in the side, just as he was opening the door.
Gasping in surprise and falling to the ground, the thief immediately grasped his side, which was now covered in a thick patch of frost and ice. The cell door swung open all the way, but Rennemar didn't dare to step forward, afraid that he too might catch an assassin's attack. He knew that no faithful of Tyr would make such a cowardly attack, so the unseen striker certainly wasn't one of his fellows on a rescue mission.
The outline of a figure gradually materialized in the shadows and stepped away from the wall, moving closer toward the cell. It was a blonde woman, evidently cloaked by some form of deceptive sorcery. Her eyes were focused on the fallen thief, and she paid no heed to Rennemar at the moment.
"Kretia?" whispered the thief.
The woman frowned slightly as the ponytailed rogue gaped at her. "I wish things could have turned out differently, Seffron, but I suppose that's the way of life. It is the wild rule out there, kill or die. I can't let you or the knight leave this place alive."
She then traced out a symbol in the air, and Rennemar could see the hideous sparkle of magic as a white bolt formed near the palm of her hand and shoot out, plunging deep into Seffron's chest. The knight could only watch in disgust as the rogue's body trembled slightly in its death throes before it fell limp.
Magic. It sounded like a curse, that it could cause such violence and destruction on the whim of some ill-disciplined hedge-wizard. Such a dangerous weapon in the hands of the wicked.
One pair of dangerous hands was suddenly moving again, and Rennemar saw the woman begin tracing out the pattern for a second spell, this time directing her attention on the knight. Seizing the opportunity, he leaped over the dead rogue and charged head on toward the murderer.
He wasn't quick enough, however, and the woman finished the gestures for her spell, sending out a spray of sparkling red mist from her hands. Sir Rennemar instinctively threw an arm up over his face, but didn't stop moving and went straight through the red cloud, slamming into the blonde woman and knocking her to the ground.
To his credit, Rennemar managed to slam the heel of his boot onto the spellcaster's hand and felt something crunch. However, the woman's screams were quickly drowned out by his own as the knight became aware of an intense, prickling pain coming from his arm. The areas of exposed skin on his left arm were turning grey, shrivelling like decayed fruit. The flesh of his hand in particular began to contract and wrinkle as if it belonged to a decomposing corpse.
There was a flash of bright yellow light from the woman on the ground as she cast another spell, but Rennemar paid no attention. He didn't notice as she teleported out, for he was far too focused on the painful horrors that the woman's black arts had ravaged upon his arm.
For him, magic truly was a curse.
(10:43)
"Who was leaving this trail for us to follow?" asked the Royal Horseman who had accompanied the squadron of knights and clerics into the merchant district. He spoke in plain words, but the restrained anger was evident in his tone.
"Uh, the High Prelate asked one of our acolytes to mark the path with this yellow paint," said the cleric, nudging at the bucket with his foot. The remainder of the paint had leaked out, forming a large puddle in the dirt. "Villet, I think."
"Then it seems your acolyte needs a harsh lesson in discipline, does it not?"
The cleric rubbed his forehead and looked up at the wall of the fish shop, upon which a short, sloppy yellow message had been written with the same paint: Ha ha, Tyr loves goats!
Underneath the blasphemy was a crude doodle of the face of Tyr, with goat horns and a scruff beard, as well as the word 'Bleat!' coming out of his mouth.
"Perhaps someone else stopped Villet on the way here…"
Sighing out loud, the knight moved away from the graffiti, following the trail of yellow dots back the way they came. "It doesn't matter. Our men are searching the immediate vicinity, but short of performing another sweep of the district, it seems we've done nothing but waste our time on this matter. There's no telling how far away the real criminal hideout is located." The Royal Horseman shook his head in dismay. "Another goose chase."
The knight continued, "Let the others continue their search. I must report our failure to Prelate Saudere."
Leaving the cleric to continue surveying the scene, the Royal Horseman set off back the way they came. Just as he reached the other end of the street, he paused as he heard a crashing noise and some faint shouting coming from within a windowless building nearby. He had taken a few steps closer when the doors suddenly burst open, and a young, lanky boy was thrown out into the street headfirst.
The knight jumped back as the youth struck the dirt unconscious, and he drew his sword out halfway until he noticed the large man that emerged from the building.
It was Sir Rennemar, and despite lacking his armour he was still imposing as he filled the doorway. "You there!" he shouted, cradling his left arm. "Bring your troops here and block off all exits from this building. I want every man, woman, and child inside chained and in shackles immediately! And be on your guard, they may have a magic-user among their number."
"Yes sir!" said the Royal Horseman, and he hurried back toward the end of the paint trail to regroup his squadron. Though he was glad that he wouldn't have to report failure to the High Prelate after all, he knew that it was still too soon to be feeling any relief. After all, there was still much to be done.
(10:48)
Even with his arm in a sling and a slight limp to his step, the first mate of the Ever Dauntless appeared to be well in charge of the situation. Nell could hear that the other sailors were busy on the decks above, judging by the sounds of footsteps clomping back and forth across the wood.
Tarin Pitt was currently trailing the young woman while another crewman helped to support the first mate as they walked along the unsteady corridor. "This had best be important, Ms. Morgan. You were explicitly told to avoid the cargo hold until we reached shore. Besides, whatever it is would probably be better handled by the Captain, if he's about somewhere."
"Captain Masque is actually part of the problem himself," Nell said as she pushed through the cargo doors and held them open for the injured officer.
When he passed through the threshold, Pitt's eyes fell on the grey-skinned beast lying facedown among the crates, and the man halted. "What is this?"
Nell shook her head and raised her palms. "It was the Captain, or maybe just something disguised as him. He was fighting Mr. Gorven over there, in the back, but they killed each other when I came in."
"I don't understand," said the first mate, hobbling across to take a closer look at Gorven. "Just what was this passenger up to?"
The young woman stopped herself before an immediate answer could escape her lips, wondering why Tarin wasn't more concerned about the Captain. She fingered Gorven's Harper pin in her pocket, and felt the weight of the glowing cube inside the oversized jacket they had given her. "No idea, sir. He was dead by the time I reached him."
"I see." The first mate shifted his gaze back toward the grey beast as he settled down on top of a crate beside the minstrel. "This will not do at all. Crewman! Go to the brig and bring us a set of shackles, quickly."
The sailor nodded and hurried out of the cargo hold to retrieve the chains, leaving the two alone in the room with the pair of corpses.
"Do you think the creature might recover? It doesn't seem to be breathing…" Nell's hands fidgeted as her eyes remained locked on the fallen monster. Even in death, the bared teeth and perpetual scowl frozen on its face would probably have a hold on her nightmares for weeks to come.
Pitt shook his head and drew his sword in a swift motion, lightly planting the tip down against the wooden floor. "Well, one never knows what lethal, unnatural abilities these things may possess. I want to be certain of this ship's security, even if – especially if we're only a short distance from shore. On a storm-wracked eve like this, it would be easy for one to jump ship and vanish into the streets of Waterdeep." He noticed the look that Nell had turned to give him. "But I'm sure it won't come to that. Now that the sahuagin have been driven off, our men will – oh, good."
The sound of jangling metal echoed from the corridor outside, and a short while later the sailor returned with a short iron chain slung over his shoulder with a manacle attached to each end. Pitt motioned for the sailor to come closer. The first mate managed to stand up on his own, apparently using his sword to support part of his weight.
Taking the manacles from the crewman, Tarin shook the chain to let it hang straight as he held it up by one end. "Here we go, this shouldn't be difficult." Moving fluidly and without pause, the officer then leaned forward and swiftly latched the metal bond around Nell's arm, just below the wrist.
The minstrel immediately leaped from her seat and tried to move back, but the other sailor seized her free arm from behind and kept her in his unyielding grasp. "What are you doing?!"
"It's no wonder that you would never identify yourself as an adventurer," said Tarin Pitt, sliding his hand down the chain. "You're far too stupid to survive on your own, I think. Probably get slaughtered on your first venture into a rat cave."
His body blurred slightly, and morphed into a hairless, feral grey creature that looked identical to the captain's true form. He took a step closer to the terrified woman and raised a clawed hand to her face. "Now, you will tell us what happened to the Wild Source, or I will have to show you just how lethal our 'unnatural abilities' can be."
(10:53)
"This isn't going to work," murmured Selena, standing a few feet behind the rogue with her arms folded. She watched as Cerdan scratched the back of his head, holding his chin in his other hand.
Without turning around to face her, he continued touching the symbols on the frame and replied, "Ye of lacking faith. I know I can get this. Just… give me a second." His voice dropped to a mumble as he talked it over to himself. "Was it squiggly line and then pointy thing, or did he touch the pointy thing twice? Maybe the code is timed?"
The former priestess sighed aloud and tapped her foot as she looked around Cordas' office, wondering if fooling around with this mirror wasn't the wisest course of action after all. Assuming that no one, faithful or thief, followed them from the Shadow Thief guildhouse, they would probably remain undetected. The building was still completely vacant when they arrived, and there was nobody in the streets outside who would care if they saw a man and a woman sneak inside a brothel like this in the dead of night.
"Hold that light up, please."
Selena pursed her lips and told herself it was all in the name of justice. She raised her arm, holding the lantern higher, letting the light shine off the top of the gilded mirror frame. Cerdan was still trying to remember the correct sequence of symbols that the false Duke had touched to activate the portal, and the thief's increasing amount of casual indifference toward her had quickly grown tiresome.
And the inactivity was the worst part. Right now all she could do was stand and wait while Cerdan tinkered with the mirror. Without any other distractions beyond one former warlord-turned-thief, Selena couldn't stop thinking about how her actions throughout the day might lead to dire consequences in the future. Openly defying the upper ranks of the Church of Tyr was no small matter, after all, and using offensive magic against the Prelate would earn her an additional court-martial in some sects of Tyr.
But surely Tyr was still in support of her cause. How could that not be true?
Of course, many of the divine spells that she prepared today had mysteriously vanished from her repertoire as the day went on. Healing spells, mostly, but surely that didn't mean her patron deity was forsaking her. No, of course not. That couldn't be right. Tyr had faith in her, didn't he?
"I mean, he still has faith in me," she said, correcting herself under her breath. Besides, what would she be without justice on her side?
The lantern light suddenly stopped reflecting off the mirror as the pane suddenly dissolved, revealing nothing more than a dark, windowed room beyond the portal. Narrowing her eyes at the frame, she couldn't spot any people inside, and wondered where this portal would lead them.
"Well, that's done it!" Cerdan said, looking at the frame and experimentally poking his pinkie finger through the portal. "Looks like there's no welcoming party, though. And it could very well be a trap, maybe set to wink shut and cleave us in two as we pass through the gate." He tossed a smirk back at the cleric and held out his hand. "Both at once?"
"Why?"
"Because if we're going to end up dying, it would be so much better if we did it together, wouldn't you say?"
"No, I meant why do you still expect me to trust you?" She glared at his open hand, but he didn't retract it. "I've made it abundantly clear just how badly you've abused my good faith. I've had to endure the fallout of your misdeeds far enough today, while you seem to just get off clean without any care for the consequences that come. All you ever seem to do is drift along like a transient, and with that stupid grin on your face."
He gave a very slight shrug of his shoulder. "I suppose you don't have good reason to trust me. But I know you'll believe me when I say that I don't want to bring any more misfortune upon you. I haven't been using you as a tool all these years, if that's what you're thinking. And my misdeeds are not as cleanly cut as you might think."
"Nothing you just said was comforting in the least."
"No, but it's the truth. And that's what you want from me, isn't it? Now here's one more truth: I'm not going to betray you. We both want to stop Cyrael and his friends from blowing up the city, right? Well, it's time to put your reservations aside and put your convictions to the test for once, Selena." He cocked his head toward the mirror portal. "Ready to take a leap of faith with me?"
Maybe it's not all a matter of trust, but a matter of faith, Selena thought as Cerdan waited for her response. He said before that he had faith in her, even if she didn't feel the same way about anyone else. They were too far along to go back now, and as far as she could tell, this mirror might be the only chance they had at finding the fallen celestial. Faith marred with blindness was always such a terrible, difficult thing. Faith in her colleagues, faith in her cause, faith in Tyr. And now Cerdan… faith in monsters.
Selena frowned to herself. Then again, personal faith was nothing if not tested in the worst of times. And perhaps the greatest faith of all came from redemption. Cerdan clearly wasn't as good as he might claim he is, as he might think he is, but maybe that was a start. Whatever the case, she knew she couldn't turn her back on this.
"Fine," she said, taking his hand and stepping closer to the mirror. "But there is still trouble between us, so don't think that it ends here. I'll be keeping watch over whatever you do."
"With a face like this, who wouldn't? Shall we?"
Pausing a moment to take in a breath, Selena nodded to Cerdan, and they stepped into the portal at the same time. A moment later, the mirror's pane solidified once more and the glass shattered to pieces.
(10:58)
"Ooh, that's not good," Cerdan remarked, looking down. "I imagine it will be hard to find a replacement. And right after you quit, too."
Selena twisted around and saw that some of the folds in the back of her robe had been cleanly severed, leaving the bottom of the garment looking as if some huge beast's claw had tried to slash her legs. She brushed the fabric, checking to make sure the sealed portal hadn't cut her skin. Fortunately, her leggings were untouched as well.
"I'm not bleeding anywhere, so I suppose there's no reason for ala–" The mirror suddenly cracked and splintered, sending shards of glass showering down out from the frame. Both elves recoiled and leaped away, and watched in disappointment as the last glittery pieces of their escape route touched down on the floor.
Cerdan scratched the base of his neck and glanced around as Selena moved toward the window. "Huh. Well, hopefully we haven't been teleported too far from Cordas' hideout."
"Did it just get colder?" Selena asked as she wiped away at the fog on the window. "What's that tapping noise coming from above us?" She put her face right up to the window and peered into the distance. It was a little difficult to see past the rain, but she could plainly see the large object in the distance. Immediately, her face fell and her eyes closed. "And where did that mountain come from…" she murmured into her sleeve.
Nudging up from behind, Cerdan glanced past her out the windowpane. "Huh… so we're in Waterdeep. I haven't been here for a while."
"I've never even travelled this far from Baldur's Gate." She glanced around the empty room and held her lantern high. There were recent scuffmarks in the dust on the floor, so whoever was here must have cleared out the room in a hurry. But then why would they leave the mirror?
"So," continued Cerdan, "Two outcast elves, alone and halfway up the continent. And still no sign of Cyrael. Now what will we do?"
The cleric kneeled down on the ground near the door, and picked up a square-shaped piece of fabric that was hanging on a string off the handle. "Look at this patch. There's an elvish symbol embroidered on it." The threads on the cloth were pale and worn, practically falling apart.
"Uh, I recognize that sign," Cerdan said, looking down over her shoulder. "It's the shoulder patch of the uniforms my people wore at Caden's Hill. That rune means the word 'Remember'… If I wasn't so dense, I'd think someone was trying to tell me something."
Standing up, Selena turned the fabric over in her hand and saw a large dark splotch on the back. Blood from a war wound? After fifty years, the mark had apparently turned to a dead brown colour. "I think we're going to need some assistance before we move forward." She turned her head and met Cerdan's eyes. "Time to look up an old friend."
(11:00 PM)