Across Waters Deep
(11:00 PM)
Another jolt struck the Ever Dauntless, and again Nell attempted to break from her captors' grasp. Unfortunately, the shapeshifter's hand barely managed to snag the chain connecting her bound wrists, and yanked her back. He was still limping on an injured leg, but remained strong enough to keep a solid hold on the young woman.
"Stop doing that!" growled the creature that had worn the face of Tarin Pitt mere minutes ago. He cocked his head toward the door down the hall that led to the slave galley. "Pfah, even those bloody orcs in there didn't prove to be as much trouble as this primate."
Nell said nothing and continued to clench her jaw as they moved a few more steps down the vessel's corridor. The feral, grey-skinned beast smacked his fellow changeling in the arm. "Hand me the key."
Pausing in the middle of the hallway, Pitt took the key from his companion and held Nell close. He then leaned one shoulder against the doorframe at the side of the hall and unlocked one of the minstrel's manacles. The creature then shrank down slightly, assuming the human form of Tarin Pitt that he had worn for most of the day, and fixed the manacle to his own wrist.
"Now don't go running off again, Ms. Morgan," he hissed in Nell's ear as he removed the key from the slot on the shackle. He pressed himself up against her body, and Nell shivered slightly, knowing that the creature wasn't even really wearing clothes. "We have a strict schedule to keep, and I won't stand for any more distract–"
Nell suddenly stamped her foot down hard and at an angle, striking the changeling in the ankle of his injured leg. Screaming aloud, Pitt started to fall toward the minstrel, and she pushed forward through the door, dragging the first mate along after her.
The weight of the shapeshifter was holding her back, however, and both of them stumbled and collapsed to the ground as a result of her attempt to break free. The beast's face struck the wooden floor of the galley and he cursed as the key came out of his grasp and flew across the room.
Glancing over her shoulder, Nell saw the other shapeshifter attempt to follow them into the room, but the large build of the creature's feral, grey-skinned form only caused him to become caught in the narrow doorframe. Some of the orc prisoners nearby grunted and growled in surprise as they watched the pair on the ground.
"Gah, idiot woman," muttered Pitt as he held his nose. "What do you think you're going to do? You have nowhere to go except overboard, and you're a fool if you think you can fight your way past our men alone."
"Sir…" shouted the shapeshifter caught in the doorway as he began to shrink down to a more human-sized form. "Those shackles I brought you, they came from this room… they use the same key."
Nell heard a click and the sound of metal chains hitting the deck. She and Pitt looked up at the same time to see one of the orcs stand free from his place in the galley and throw the key to the next prisoner.
"Brahg! Brahg! Brahg!" bellowed the lines of orcs in a chant as the huge green-skinned barbarian let out a roar and charged forward.
The shapeshifter in the doorway frantically staggered back and apparently was trying to shift to a larger form, but the orcish powerhouse collided into the creature, slamming it so hard into the opposite wall that the wood breached inward. They were fortunate that it wasn't the hull of the ship.
"No, you stupid animals!" shouted Pitt as he struggled to his feet. Brahg continued to tear into the changeling outside, and the first mate had to shout to be heard over the screams. "You're going to ruin everything!" He started to shift into his feral form, and his arm became thick enough to shatter the shackle on his wrist.
Nell immediately jumped aside as the leader of the orcs – he called himself Gartok earlier? – leaped toward them, grabbing the shapeshifter by the arms and biting the creature on the throat. There was a disgusting, wet tearing sound as Gartok yanked his head away, his mouth filled with bloodied flesh. The creature that posed as Tarin Pitt choked and gurgled while dark red ichors flowed from its open throat and stained the wooden floor planks.
As the chains and shackles continued to fall amidst ongoing cheers and shouts from the prisoners, a few other orcs emerged from their places and stalked toward Nell, who now had her back to the wall and could do nothing but stand her ground.
"Never mind that one, leave her to me! Stronger foes need to be killed!" barked Gartok, wiping the blood from his mouth and smearing it along his chest. "Death to the face-dancers!" He was met with war cries from all around as his fellow orcs began to charge out the door, in search of their new prey on the decks above.
When most of the orcs had freed themselves, Gartok turned toward Nell and took a step toward her. She flinched back and swallowed nervously, unable to find her voice.
The orc leaned close, and Nell could see the texture on the large war markings that were painted on his face. "You stay out of the way," he growled, and then moved off to join his brethren.
Nell held her head as she looked away, unwilling to risk meeting the hateful eyes of the remaining orcs in the room. "Ugh," she muttered, "what I wouldn't give to be on the streets of Waterdeep right now."
(11:11)
"Gah," Selena murmured, "what I wouldn't give to be off the streets right now."
Cerdan looked over and smiled as the cleric started to uncomfortably tug at the collar and hem of her robe. The city was certainly living up to its name, since the rainfall was coming down so hard that the cleric was completely soaked from cloth to skin, even though they'd only been outside for a short while. Her clothing wasn't thin enough to see through, though, which was a bit of a letdown for him.
"You're sure this is where he lives?" she asked.
A flash of lightning cracked across the sky as the rogue nodded and started banging his fist on the door in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Thunder pealed overhead a few seconds later, and eventually the elf heard movement coming from within the building.
The door pulled open, and a middle-aged human with a cane in one hand glowered at his visitors.
"You!" he shouted when he saw Cerdan. His eyes flared wide and a sneer flashed across his lips. "How in the piking Nine Hells did you get here?!"
"Well, it's good to see you too, Derrick, old buddy!" Cerdan chimed, stretching his arms out for a hug that was never going to come.
"What do you want?"
"I'm feeling fine, glad you asked! Good to see that some things never change, you know?" The elf continued beaming with cheer.
Derrick reached out to slam the door shut again, but Selena interposed herself between the two former guild thieves. "I'm sorry that we have to bother you so unexpectedly, Derrick, but we need your help with a major problem that threatens your city." She paused for a moment, then added, "Uh, do you remember me?"
"Of course," muttered the merchant. "The two people that I last saw on the worst day of my entire life. As I recall, I basically did all the work while you two did nothing except get yourselves tossed off a tower roof like pieces of trash. You'll understand if I'm not exactly thrilled at your return. Especially him." He jabbed a finger at Cerdan. "You are aware of the time, aren't you?"
"It's the Sigils, Derrick." Selena said, "They've been stolen along with another artifact by a fallen celestial and his followers, and we think he's planning to use them in some sort of magical ritual here in Waterdeep. We wouldn't come to you like this if we weren't certain that you could aid us."
Cerdan added, "Also, we're cold and wet, so we need a fire. And you're the only guy in town we know."
The merchant 'tsked' so loudly that Cerdan could hear him over the pattering rain. Reluctantly, Derrick stepped back and let the elves come inside. "Fine. But I'm only letting you in at the cleric's request. At least one of you has a steady head on their shoulders." Using his walking stick for support, the human then stepped over to the front counter of his store and took a lit oil lantern that sat high atop a shelf. "Go to all that trouble to stop Verskul, only to have some other madman come and take over. There's always something…" he sighed aloud.
Closing the door behind them, Cerdan took a moment to pause by the doorway and gaze across his old friend's new pawnshop. "Nice place you've got here. Much bigger than that crummy little run-down place you used to own back in Baldur's Gate."
"Do you stock any spare robes or divination materials that I can have?" asked Selena.
The merchant pointed toward the far end of the store. "Check near the back. I have a few cleric customers who rummage through that stuff every week." The elven woman thanked him and disappeared among the stacks of antiques. Lantern in hand, Derrick hobbled over to a fireplace built into the stone walls of the store and began to stack some logs in the hearth.
Cerdan removed his soaking cloak and draped it over a chair sitting near the door. "By the way, I ought to mention that I sent Bryn on his way here just an hour ago. He'll be arriving with his friend Linde by boat in a few weeks."
A log fell from human's hands and landed on the floor with a dull 'thunk'. "Wait. What do you mean 'in a few weeks'? If you told him to come here, then why didn't you just bring him along with you? You didn't send him and that girl off on their own, did you?!"
"Oh, right. Uh, Selena and I sort of reached Waterdeep by magical accident a short while ago, and now we can't go back the way we came. Just the way things seem to go with me. And as for Bryn, he's a smart kid. You ought to give him more credit than you do. Maybe that's why he was so driven to join the Shadow Thieves. Heck, I don't know why you insist on blaming me for his running away from home."
Derrick frowned and made a batting gesture with his hand. "No, we are not having this discussion now. Bad enough that you had to simply pop in without warning. I just hope you sent them on a vessel with a reputable captain and crew. Not one of your smuggler ships, I pray."
"Of course not. I'm actually not that inept, you know, despite the impression I like to project." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "But don't tell Selena or anyone else that I said so. I like to keep the expectations people have of me at a nice, low level."
"I have to wonder why she's even travelling with you. Are you two… together?"
Cerdan shifted his shoulders slightly. "Well, maybe there was some chance of that before today. But no, I'm fairly certain I won't be bouncing between her sheets any time soon."
"Please, don't ever use a phrase like that again." Wincing slightly, Derrick just shook his head as he carefully lit the logs in the fireplace. "So what's this new problem the two of you are pursuing?"
"Well, it's a rather long story. Right now Selena needs to perform a divination on a bloodied badge we found. It'll probably lead us to the place where the celestial, Cyrael, is planning to use the Sigils. Of course, it's also undoubtedly a trap, so it might be wise to plan for a few minutes before we head out instead of charging in, for a change."
"Fine, you can fill me in on the rest while the cleric is performing her spell. I just hope you don't expect me to do anything crazy this time. I'm not very eager to have my other leg crushed today. And I hope you plan to pay for that bottle of wine you keep eyeing on the mantlepiece behind me."
"Sorry, I just realized that I haven't eaten or drunk anything for the better part of the day." Cerdan was painfully aware of the pit of hunger in his stomach. "Anyway, we should probably prepare something while Selena does her magic. And do you have an accurate map of the city? I should find the city's temple of Tyr and maybe contact the local city guard, assuming they're not all after my head here in Waterdeep like they are back home. What I wouldn't give for an armed rabble right now."
(11:21)
I'd give anything to be away from this armed rabble, Nell thought as she peeked out into the empty corridor. The fighting had no doubt moved to the top deck, judging by the lack of combatants on the lower levels. A few scattered bodies littered the hallway; some were dead orcs, others belonged to shapeshifters. Was this the sort of madness that adventurers craved? If it was, then there was no wonder that healing temples never had want for business. Adventurers… nothing more than raving, bloodthirsty maniacs, the whole lot of them.
As she made her way down the bloodied hallway toward the stairs, she thought about how her entire day consisted of nothing but calamity after calamity. Sahuagin invaders, feral shapeshifters, and now rampaging orcish barbarians. Screams echoed down from the top decks, but the young woman couldn't make out which monsters were winning the fight.
She cautiously made her way up the steps, and emerged on the rain-soaked deck. The thunder and lightning of the storm's anger seemed to have lessened, but the rain was still coming down like a monsoon. Squinting through the darkness, she saw large pockets of orcs scattered out across the deck, clearly outnumbering the remaining shapeshifters. A few orcs even appeared to be fighting each other, but when one of them took a blade to the throat, it quickly reverted back to the familiar grey-toned beast that had no doubt been a member of the ship's crew less than an hour ago.
Nell staggered back as the ship lurched on the waves and saw a particularly large barbarian, the one called Brahg, throwing overboard a shapeshifter in the form of some serpent-like creature. The orc warrior turned and looked around in all directions before spotting something up in the sky. He pulled a large rusty hook off one of the ship's suspension ropes nearby, and hurled it overhand into the darkened skies above.
Seconds later, a shapechanger's body came falling from the ship's crow's nest and crashed down atop the stairwell where Nell had been standing just moments ago. The point of the hook was lodged deep in its chest, and the blood that leaked from the wound was quickly washed out along the deck by the rainfall.
The minstrel nearly fell over the side as the ship heaved again, only this time the movement was accompanied by a loud, heavy creaking noise, as if they had struck something in the water. Peering out into the darkness, Nell could barely make out a series of dark lumps in the waters ahead, staggered along the… shoreline? A beam of light flashed through the raging storm from the darkness beyond, and Nell realized that they were close enough to be spotted by a lighthouse standing on the rapidly approaching coastal reach.
Nell's eyes went wide as she looked up at the opposite end of the ship, and saw that there was nobody piloting the wheel of the vessel. And no one was rowing in the hold below, either, so the ship was moving solely by the winds and waves of the storm. The mindless barbarians were so caught up in their battle that they were going to let the Ever Dauntless crash into the rocks!
We're moving too fast! I'm going to die, she thought to herself. Pushing her soaked hair away from her eyes, the minstrel raced toward the pilot's wheel, doing her best to avoid colliding with any of the combatants. But even as she came closer, the ship began to tilt one last time, and there was a deafening grinding sound from underneath.
The entire floor of the vessel seemed to suddenly fall sideways, and Nell felt her feet leave the surface of the deck. For a brief moment, it felt as if she was flying gently through a sideways rain, as if everything was calm now. This feeling was quickly halted by the jarring collision brought about by the solid ground coming forward to meet her.
(11:28)
Cerdan could hear Selena returning from the back of the store, presumably done with her divination on the bloody badge they found. She emerged from behind the stacks of crates wearing a pale yellow cloak over her traveller's clothes, carrying her torn original robe in a bundle under one arm.
"I've performed the spell," she said, "and I saw a vision of a large cavern underground, not too far away from here. Whoever left this patch behind must be there right now. My magic gave me a good sense of where the location is, but I'll need to see a map if we want to pinpoint the exact – are you two drinking? How can you even think of imbibing alcohol at a time like this?!"
Coughing suddenly, Cerdan exchanged glances with Derrick, and both men set their tumblers down on the corners of the cloth map that lay upon the store counter. "Uh, just a little something to calm the nerves and warm the blood before we set out." He held up the bottle, "Care for some?"
"Just show me that map so we can leave. Here you go, Derrick, I believe this will cover the merchandise I used." She reached into a pouch on her belt and removed a handful of gold coins for the merchant.
"There, you see that, Cerdan?" said Derrick, "Civilized people actually pay for the things they take, they don't just leech my wine and magical goods under the banner of being 'old friends'."
Cerdan held up a pair of amulets, each adorned with a flat, purple gemstone set in a silver chain. He held one out to Selena as he smiled at the human. "Think of these as donations you're making to Tyr's cause, then. I'm working for yonder cleric now, you know. Does that make me an acolyte?"
"Gods forbid…" Selena muttered as she examined the bauble.
Cerdan pumped his arms in the air, waving his hands in exaggerated zeal. "Praise Tyr!"
"Ugh." The cleric turned to Derrick. "Does he ever stop?"
"He really doesn't. But all idiocy aside," Derrick went on, spreading out the wrinkles in the cloth map. "Those amulets are enchanted to provide some protection against physical injury, but don't go jumping off any cliffs to test their limits. I can also give you a pack or two of traveller's gear and a few magical weapons if you need them, but it won't be the most powerful stuff. My stock really isn't the best quality right now… most of my shipments have either been held back or lost due to all those recent sahuagin attacks on shipping lanes."
"Fascinating," the cleric said absently. She pointed to a spot on the map, north-east of their position. "If this map is to scale, then our goal lies underneath this region here. Derrick, this cluster of buildings on the map is coloured black, do you know what that means?"
"Dead Man's Alley. Everyone in town knows about that place. It's an old run-down neighbourhood, some say it is cursed ground. Back during the Time of Troubles, the god of the dead, Myrkul, used that area as a base for several months before he was destroyed. Not many people like to go through those parts these days; they say it's haunted. If you're heading there, you have my condolences."
"To be precise, we're heading under that area. In my vision, I saw an open cavern, even deeper into the earth than the sewers. It felt like a rather unholy place. That does make sense, however, since each of the Sigils were infused with a portion of Myrkul's power before his death." Selena moved the glasses aside and folded the map neatly before tucking it away into a pocket.
"Anything else you need, or can I go get some sleep now?" Derrick asked the elves as he rubbed his eyes.
"Actually, you could go rouse us up some back-up," said Cerdan. "We don't know where the city's guard posts or temples are located in Waterdeep, so it would be grand if you could go and direct some guards or knights to come after us."
Sighing aloud, Derrick nodded and walked behind the counter. "This had better be the last time you bother me for favours. Fine, I'll talk with the local constable. Go on ahead, I'll find someone to send after you."
"You're an upstanding fellow, Derrick, even if you do have to lean on a cane to do so. Don't ever let anyone say you're a crabby old man."
"Yes, yes. If you're done mocking my life now, then kindly take your arse out of my store." Derrick reached under the counter and removed a thick cloak. Under his breath he grumbled, "Of course the fool had to pick the coldest, rainiest day of the season to crash in on me…"
Flashing a grin at Selena, who merely stood by shaking her head slightly, Cerdan grabbed his cloak from by the door and tossed it over his shoulders, ready to track down the wayward celestial once more.
(11:33)
While it wasn't the absolute worst way to wake up, Nell was understandably frightened beyond measure when she opened her eyes and found herself lying on top of a headless grey-skinned corpse. Shrieking aloud and scrambling back along the wet shoreline, kicking up sand as she crawled away, and she felt a painful shock run up her left arm whenever it moved. The injury did little to stop her from putting as much distance between her and the body as she could.
The Ever Dauntless sat on its side further down the beach, a huge jagged opening left in its hull by the rocks along the Sword Coast. The tides had washed a number of bodies out to sea, and Nell could make out a large number of crates and wet corpses bobbing along the surface. No doubt the creature she awakened to had broken her fall when she hit the ground. Of course, her seemingly good fortune didn't exactly fill the woman with glee.
The very first thing she did was pull the black violin case off of her back and carefully set it down on a dry spot of sand on the ground. She quickly opened the lid and checked the wooden instrument. A wave of relief washed over her as she found that the case had been sealed tight enough and no moisture had touched her prized possession.
A hand grabbed her by the shoulder as she staggered to her feet, and she whipped her head around to see the leader of the orcish barbarians before her. She instinctively tried to pull away, but couldn't break from the warrior's grasp.
"We escaped thanks to you, even if you didn't mean to help us," said Gartok, "So you will live. Take this." In his hand was the glowing cube, the Wild Source, which he then passed to the young minstrel. "My shaman tried to heal one of our wounded while I carried this, and this thing fired a blast of red light at him." He pointed down the beach, and Nell spotted a heap of blackened ash still smoking on the sand.
The orc continued, "The face-dancers will be sending men to search the shipwreck. You better leave before they come." With that said, the orc snorted, and turned away from the woman, heading in the direction of the forests near the shore. Other orcs from his tribe were already disappearing into the darkness of the trees, and soon Nell was left standing alone on the beach with nothing but corpses and assorted debris strewn around her.
Wincing as she experimentally shifted her left arm, Nell guessed that the bone wasn't broken, but she would need to see a healer about the sprain soon if she wanted to keep in the best shape to play her violin. After closing up her violin case and placing the strap over her good shoulder once more, Nell paused a moment to put the glowing cube away in her tunic pocket.
This was the last thing she wanted to deal with; it was just supposed to be a short trip from Neverwinter to Waterdeep for an audition at the city's conservatory of music, and now she was embroiled in some stupid scheme, like something out of a hack bard's tale. No, Nell decided she wasn't going to go any further with this than she had to. She began walking north along the shore, and thought to herself that the best option would be to leave the artifact with the authorities in the city; the lights of the city weren't that far away, and it would only be a short walk to reach the city limits.
In the distance, she could spot a scattered series of torches near the border of the town, slowly making their way toward the shipwreck. Gartok's last words to her echoed in her mind, and for a moment Nell wondered if any shapeshifters might be hidden among their number. If there was even a single one, then he might very well try to silence the last witness of what transpired on board the Ever Dauntless.
Biting her lip, Nell instead made for the forest. She would have to take a roundabout route, but it would likely be far safer for her to quietly slip into town on her own. No way was she going to let a whole mob of people see her face. Nell didn't want this type of fame, and she wanted to become a target even less. All this nonsense was something better suited for those crazy adventuring-types. The only thing she wanted was to live to see tomorrow. She had already seen enough insanity for one day.
(11:37)
If there was one thing he hated about zealots, it was the fact that they never knew when to shut up. Dace sullenly trudged forward through the sewer tunnel as Sintag, Cyrael's scarred henchman, prodded the mercenary in the back. The only light came from the tiny slivers of moonlight that peeked through the drains overhead, and from the lone torch that the mercenary's captor carried.
"You are nothing compared to him," growled the zealot. "He seeks to bring a cleansing light into this world of shadows, and you are but a gnat to him. Barely even worth his attention."
"Better to be a free gnat than a mindless slug. What is your stake in this? What have you been promised by your vaunted master?"
Sintag prodded Dace sharply with a pointed wooden staff. "Take care what tone you use when speaking of him, blackheart. Yours is a cowardly type; murdering, lying, thieving humans. I, however, have been blessed with the chance to help bring about his vision of the future, and I answer his call." He paused as they approached a junction. "Take the left branch here, knave. Cyrael and his allies will bring about the final justice and punish humanity for their unearned dominance over Faerun. And I shall be his messenger, the first of many to bring his good word to those that may prove worthy of salvation."
"So you simply do whatever you are told by some pretty freak with wings, golden eyes and a warped-sounding voice? Pathetic."
The scarred man suddenly seized Dace by the hair and yanked him back a few steps, speaking with a cold tone in the mercenary's ear. "Fool. He is by far the deadliest and most unerring opponent you'll ever meet, blackheart!"
"Of course he is." Dace let out a snort, refusing to yield to this fanatical idiot. "I will remember to tell him you said that right before I kill him."
"No, you'll never get that chance, for I am going to personally see that you never draw breath again, once we reach the dumping grounds. I'm sure you'll recognize some of the other corpses there. And just to be certain that you will not pose any further threat to my lord Cyrael…"
The madman suddenly grabbed the three centre fingers on Dace's right hand and yanked backward. The fingers bent at too wide an angle, and there was a sudden, wet 'snapping' noise. The mercenary had no idea if the sound was from the bones breaking or the ligaments tearing, but he was far too busy screaming in pain to dwell on it.
"You won't be wielding a blade any time soon, blackheart. Now keep moving. The only reason I haven't slain you already is that I don't want to carry your corpse."
(11:41)
"Sewers. Why does every little expedition always involve sewers?" Cerdan wondered aloud as he and his companion splashed through the city's undercurrents. They could only see a few metres ahead in the dim lighting from the torch in his hand, but the distant echo seemed to indicate that there was still a good distance to travel.
Selena suddenly glanced over at him and blurted out, "Tell me what happened at Caden's Hill."
"Oh, sure. Now you want to know all about it. Are you really that eager for me to lie to you? Or do you just want something else to hold over my head?"
The cleric made a disgusted face, but when she bent down Cerdan saw that it was because of a slimy piece of twine that had become caught in her boot. "I'm a diviner by trade, not a judge or executioner, despite how I might act sometimes. Mayhap I was being presumptuous earlier for not hearing out your side of the story, but you have my undivided attention now. It is in my nature to seek the truth. Please, tell me."
Letting out a slight, indignant snort, the rogue squinted down at the canal beside them. They were currently walking along one of the ledges that lined the sides of the tunnel and kept them a mere two feet above the black stream of city-borne filth below. There was still a great, smelly distance to travel, and Cerdan had to wonder if Selena really knew where she was leading him.
Now that he thought about it, it wasn't nearly so bad when Selena had dismissed him out of hand earlier after learning the truth of his past. A little disappointing, to be sure, but at least she didn't prod him so hard with her inquiries. Now he had to actually think about the life he left behind. A sewer channel wasn't a particularly ideal setting to tell her, either.
"They say you savagely slew your own people during that final battle," she pressed.
"Fine, fine. I'll tell you, if it will give you some small sliver of satisfaction. You never let go, do you?" Cerdan rolled his eyes and then fixed his sights on the looming blackness ahead. "First of all, let me tell you that some of things the Church told you about me is a load of half-truths and exaggerations. Your Church's war wasn't a holy crusade against evil; it was a territorial dispute and nothing more."
"I can't imagine such a terrible war brewing over 'nothing more' than a patch of land. So why were the elves trying to seize human territory, then?"
He shook his head at her. "See, you just go and assume that your side was spotless in the matter. Some human farmers in the local region outside our forests expanded their settlements a bit too close to our borders, cut down a few trees too many, and let's just say they were less than respectful of the land pacts between our people in generations past, which upset our leaders. Humans tend to have short memories, you know that?" Cerdan made a mock snapping gesture with one of his gloved hands. "Oh, of course you do. You were raised among them."
"We're not discussing my history," she cut in pointedly, clearly planning to keep the conversation on track for once, "And I thought you were their leader. Though I must admit, in the time I've known you, you've always acted less like a warlord and more like an utter dolt."
"For your information, I only led our armed defenders, and only in the last two or three battles of the war. I owe that dubious honour to a high mortality rate among my people; when their officers are dropping like gnats, they'll promote anyone they can find that hasn't lost a limb." He glanced over and pointed to the holy symbol that hung around Selena's neck. "Your colleagues were a little eager to have a figurehead to blame after the war ended, so they slapped me with a scary nickname, and lo! The Bloodletter came into being.
"But on the other hand," Cerdan continued, "I am responsible for all the death at Caden's Hill, so I guess they did have a case, after all."
"You keep dancing around the main thing: I want to know what you actually did during the war."
"Oh, it started with small stuff. Poisoning the knights' water supply, drugging their horses, sabotaging their weapons and armour. You know, all the fun little things a rogue is supposed to do."
Selena's brow furrowed slightly, and with a tinge of annoyance creeping into her voice, she said, "I'm talking about the massacre at the Hill. How did you bring about the end of the war?"
Cerdan fell silent for a moment. Now she was hitting at the heart of that whole crazy mess. Part of his wondered if it might be easier to just pull another far-fetched tale out of his arse than to dwell on what really happened. But no, Selena said before that he owed her for all the trouble he had heaped upon her thus far. The least he could do was offer up the truth for once.
"Ever hear those old bardic songs about small armies overcoming amazing odds and defeating an enemy many times their size? Heroic tales of wonder and glory in battle? Well, it's all a complete load of horse dung. Suffice to say, your faithful warriors outnumbered us fingers to palm, and I knew I couldn't pull a victory out of my cap on this one; they were better supplied, better organized, and better armed.
"Through blind luck, however, we managed to capture one of the better-informed knights on the eve before the Battle of Caden's Hill. He was a young lad, real stubborn about his duty, but not such a bad sort, all things considered." The elf gave a half-smile to the former priestess. "You would have liked him, though his name escapes me after all these years. I never did find out what happened to that fellow afterward…"
He heard Selena clear her throat with a loud 'ahem', and he remembered to stay on track with the story.
"Anyway, he told us that the knights were under the impression that we had a larger army hiding in the forests. We didn't, of course, but one of your Church's higher-ups, an Inquisitor by the name of Adar Treysen, thought we posed enough of a threat to justify the use of a particularly potent weapon. A magical construct called the Heart of the… something. Uh, I think it started with a 'B'."
"The Behemoth…?" Selena offered absently, rubbing her chin in contemplation.
"That's it. Guess they told you something about that, hm?" Cerdan didn't wait for her reply and continued. "Based on what my interrogator coaxed from our special guest, I decided the best course was to sneak into the knights' camp and seize this artifact for myself."
"And you thought you could do this all by yourself?"
"I did tell my interrogator to send others after me, but I imagine they didn't catch word of it before the disaster struck. This was mere hours before the knights were planning to use the weapon, you see, so I went off immediately." The elf paused as they approached what looked to be the end of the sewer tunnel.
The waste water that passed through the large canal in the middle of the corridor was being diverted into a large metallic grate that blocked off the tunnel's end. Selena pointed to a section of the wall on the other side of the tunnel where a large number of bricks were missing, revealing a gaping tunnel that likely went even further down than the city's sewer system.
"We're on the wrong side of the sewage channel," she murmured.
Cerdan saw the cleric's expression turn to a look of mild disgust as she glanced down at the black slop running past them below. The channel was too wide to jump in a single bound, and knowing her, she was probably considering going all the way back and around the way they came. At least this setback apparently made her forget to keep pressing him about his past.
"Want me to carry you across? I know you probably don't want your nice new robe getting soiled so soon," Cerdan offered.
"Absolutely not." Cerdan shrugged and waited patiently as she removed her outer robe, rolled it up into a bundle, and then held it above her head. Without waiting a moment longer, she stepped down off the ledge and began wading through the filth toward the other side of the canal.
The rogue scratched his chin. "Well, you certainly are a pleasantly-shaped bag of surprises, aren't you?"
She didn't bother looking back. "Are you coming or not? I need that torchlight."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied. And he splashed down, thigh-deep in the muck.
(11:47)
Even this late at night, Nell would have expected more people to be present in the district's guard station. Perhaps it was the heavy rainstorm that still raged on outside. Nell shook out the soaking blanket that she had draped over her head, and wiped the excess moisture away from her violin case as she looked around the room. The fact that the building appeared almost completely empty was disconcerting… even a single drunk lounging about would have given the scene a sense of normalcy.
Nell shook her head. All this madness with the shapechangers was making her paranoid. Then again, who could blame her? Before today, the most (the only) noteworthy thing she ever experienced was a concert where the lead pianist gave a stunning rendition of Cierenno the Prodigy's entire Symphony of the Seven Eternal without a single mistake or pitfall. Now it felt like her world had been completely upended.
She let out a deep sigh. Her conservatory appointment couldn't come fast enough.
A gray-haired man was standing before the station's front desk, and he was locked in argument with the guard who stood on the opposite side. These two were the only occupants in the building that Nell could see.
The guard had an exasperated look on his face as he addressed the older man. "I'll say again, we cannot help you right now, sir, because our –"
"Because your men are busy elsewhere. Yes, you've made that abundantly clear, but I'm asking you to draw on manpower from the other guard posts in the district, or even the knightly orders!"
"Then I'd have to go myself, leaving this station unattended, sir." His jaw clenched slightly before he spoke. "I can't go off chasing alleged monsters on a single claim from an old man like yourself, so if you could hold your complaint until the morning…"
"This can't wait that long," snapped the older man, "For all we know, the city could be a pile of ruin by then!" He banged his cane against the floor a single time, then turned and began to make his way toward the exit. "Gah, you're supposed to be the city's finest. Yet you all seem to get more lazy and dull-witted every day!"
Nell quickly stepped out of the way as the man brushed past, and watched as he limped out the door, walking stick in hand. Behind her, the guard cleared his throat and she noticed that he seemed to be looking at her with a mixture of bored expectation.
"Do you need something, miss?" he asked in a monotone.
"Yes, I want… um, what was that all about just now?" Nell tilted her head toward the door and pointed a thumb in the same direction.
"Oh, he's one of the local merchants here in the neighbourhood. Get this, he came in here with some fanciful story about shapeshifting monsters and angels trying to blow up the city with some magical doodads." The guard shook his head in disdain, "These delusional types, they see a crack of lightning and hear a roll of thunder, suddenly they're shouting bloody murder and filling their heads with ideas about the end of the world. You wouldn't believe the number of 'sky is falling' reports I get on nights like this. Mental illness is becoming a rather common affliction in this city, I fear."
"Um, yes, I can imagine…" Nell said absently as she looked toward the door behind her. Ordinarily, she would be in agreement with the skeptical officer, but this mention of shapeshifters and magic tools…
"Besides," he droned on, not paying much attention to the young woman, "All our able men and women have been dispatched to the south. Some ship crashed and capsized on the rocks just outside the city a short while ago." The guard finally happened to look down from his perch and look Nell in the eye. "So what do you need, miss? And I hope it's less crazy than his story."
"Uh, I'll be right back," Nell said as she hurried back outside into the rain. The old man who just left might be more willing to hear her out, and hopefully take the glowing cube off her hands.
She threw an arm over her head in the vain hope of keeping some of the raindrops off her face, and spotted the older man further down the street. He seemed to be making slow progress due to his limp and cane as he made his way north, deeper into the heart of the city.
Hurrying in pursuit, Nell quickly caught up with the man as he passed under a dry, covered spot beneath a nearby shop's awning. She lightly grabbed him by the shoulder. "Excuse me…"
"Stay back" the man barked as he whirled to face her. In a single stroke, he pulled on the handle of his cane, and it detached itself from the rest of the wooden shaft. It took Nell a moment before she realized that the handle was attached to a hidden sword blade, which was now pointed at her face.
"Don't think I'm such an easy mark, thief."
Nell released his shoulder and slowly stepped back, hands raised. Unlike the guard's description, this man seemed to be in full control of his senses. He didn't look delusional, at least. Maybe a little paranoid, though.
"Please sir, I-I just wanted to speak to you about your report at the guard station." The man didn't lower his weapon and waited for her to continue. "And I'm really getting tired of being threatened and prodded at with sharp objects!" She said with a touch of annoyance. Nell carefully pushed the swordstick away from her face, and the man slowly relented.
"Fine, say your piece and then be on your way, girl. I have a promise to keep elsewhere."
Taking a deep breath, Nell quickly recounted for the man her tale at sea, leaving out several details to keep it succinct. It probably wasn't a satisfying recollection, but all she cared about right now was wiping her hands of the whole mess as soon as possible.
After she finished, the man's response to her story was less than encouraging to her ears. "Well, I don't rightly know what to make of this. My friend did mention something about doppelgangers and a shipment coming from Baldur's Gate. If you can come and tell him what you learned from the ship…"
"Uh-uh!" Nell vehemently shook her head. "Look, I don't even have a hint of what's going on, and honestly, I'd like to keep it that way." She reached into her pocket and took the glowing cube out for the merchant to see. "The only reason I'm even talking to you is so I can rid myself of this… thing I took from them. Take it; it's your problem now."
He made now move to accept the volatile artifact. "Hey, I don't want to get involved in this mess, either, girl. An hour ago, they start banging on my door and drag me into this. Believe me, there's nothing I'd like more than to run… limp back home and go to sleep." The merchant sighed. "But I learned several years ago that everyone must eventually step up to face whatever destructive forces –"
"Spare me the honour and glory speech, old man. I just play the violin for a living. Please, take the blasted thing and pass it on to your friend. My part in this is done."
The man's cheek twitched. "My name is Derrick, girl, not 'old man'. And I'll have you know I'm not that old."
Not that old? Nell wondered if the man had looked in a mirror in the past decade. "Whatever. Are you going to take the thing or not?"
A hand reached out and grasped the cube. Nell would have been relieved, except that it wasn't the old man's hand. The clawed hand was as dark as pitch, and the creature that had appeared beside them was nigh invisible under the shade of night. Now that she was paying attention, Nell could make out the faint outline of one of those awful, feral shapeshifters standing against the wall beside them.
Nell let out a startled yelp and yanked her arm away, tearing the cube out of the doppelganger's grasp. Derrick unsheathed his swordstick once more and thrust at the concealed beast, forcing the monster to fall back several paces. The merchant didn't move much as he attacked, and seemed to be favouring only one leg as he moved.
While his focus was drawn to the doppelganger, another figure surged forward from the shadows behind Derrick. Before Nell could shout a warning, the figure drove their boot heel into the back of Derrick's bad leg. To the minstrel's dismay, the older man went over like a log.
The shapeshifter bounded close and seized Nell by the neck when she tried to retreat from the scene. He shoved her closer toward the figure that now stood with a foot planted against Derrick's back. Up close, Bell saw that the doppelganger's comrade was a blonde woman garbed in grey leathers and a cloak.
"There, you see, Kretia?" said the shapechanger in a voice like a tired wind. "I knew following this whelp would yield the Wild Source."
"Must you shout my name so freely, you idiot beast? Of all people, Lenthyrr had to match me with such a master of subtlety like you, Ryloch," grumbled the woman in reply.
The creature grinned and Nell shuttered at the sight of its pointed teeth. "Ha! Not my real name, human."
"Look, you don't need to do anything to us," Nell piped up. "Just take the cursed thing and leave us be!"
From the ground, Derrick managed to growl, "Stop… talking…"
The woman, Kretia, removed her foot from the prone man's back and pointed a finger at her ally. "Grab them both and move them over by the wall. I will open a portal for us to return to the site."
"We should kill them now."
"That would only leave a trail for others to follow," Kretia replied, shaking her head. "Bring them to Cyrael and Lenthyrr first, they have final say in all matters." She started to move her hand in a swirling pattern, tracing out the beginnings of a spell.
"Wait!" shouted the doppelganger, "I forgot, you can't use magic so close to the cube, too risky. For all we know, the wild surges might immolate us by chance, or worse!"
The blonde woman made a scoffing sound, but ceased her arcane gestures. "Fine, we'll take the long way. Shouldn't be too many people around in this district at this time and under such heavy rain." She pointed down the street and tilted her head.
Pulling Nell along, the doppelganger shifted his physical form to that of a hulking ogre as the young minstrel began to kick and scream bloody murder to no avail. The beast then bent down and grabbed Derrick by the waist, carrying the man along under one arm.
"Should have left the matter alone, girl," said Kretia as she came over and plucked the cube from Nell's hand. "You think we didn't have people waiting for the Ever Dauntless to arrive? Not very clever of you to wander into town alone, but you made our jobs a mite easier, at least. No need for us to sift through the shipwreck in plain sight of the city guards, when our very own unwitting delivery girl is right here!"
Nell clenched her teeth and seethed at the woman. The adventurer's life. To experience so much wonder and excitement in but a single day… how she utterly loathed it.
(11:54)
"That's far enough, knave. We are here," said Sintag, as if he thought Dace was too stupid to realize what was directly in front of him.
The path of the tunnel stopped at the opening to a large, deep circular reservoir filled with what looked and smelled like rancid sewer water. A continuous stream of black liquid poured down from a round metal grating in the wall, up near the top of the chamber.
"Do you expect me to simply jump in?" asked Dace, "I can swim, you know."
"Not indefinitely. The other infidels fell prey to fatigue, you see. You may hold out longer, but given time you'll collapse just as they did." The mutilated zealot tore scrap of dark cloth from the cloak he carried over his arm, Dace's cloak, and set it aflame before tossing it down toward the surface of the water.
The burning cloth fell a few metres before hissing out atop the dark liquid below, but small light was just enough for Dace to spot several grey, bloated corpses floating near the walls of the reservoir.
"No handholds to climb out," Sintag explained, "No man-sized channels under the water to swim through. This is a chamber built in olden times, and not with human survival in mind. No less than you deserve for daring to oppose the Winged One, blackheart."
He drew from his belt the dagger he confiscated from Dace earlier in the evening. "I was instructed to be certain of the severance of your life, and I shall see my charge through."
"Yes, be a good dog and do your master's bidding. You fanatical types are all fools; allowing someone to gain dominion over you. I believe you are so blind that you strive to earn the right to be slaves."
"Are you prepared to die for your beliefs?"
"No, for I am not going to die, period."
The scarred man prodded Dace in the back, forcing the mercenary a few more precarious steps closer to the edge of the sewer pit. "But what is the thing that drives you, sinner? At least my reasons are pure. Are you a thrall to the pursuit of gold and riches?"
Dace knew he wasn't, but chose to say nothing. These fanatic types just loved to jabber on about their own righteousness, and the mercenary needed some more time if he was going to move the ropes binding his wrists. The broken bones on his right hand inflamed every movement, but he had no other course than to endure, since his survival was at stake here.
"At least I can understand why the elves choose to involve themselves. Cyrael spoke of all of you at length. The priestess has her duty. The thief has his conscience. Even the departed ranger had his personal need for justice." The zealot made Dace turn around to face the wide, expecting mouth of the pit. Sintag went on, "But what of you? I look upon you and see a man with no stake whatsoever in this entire affair. A man so pathetic that he leases his life away to whomever will pay, devoid of any honourable purpose. What do you have?"
With one last subtle shift of his hand, Dace felt the rope on his wrist slide up against the edge of his bracer. He paused a moment before replying. "You are correct. I have no personal interest in any of this, nor do I care. I am simply a man with a contract… and a blade."
Dace immediately flicked his left wrist in a backward reflex, and triggered the mechanism in his wrist bracer. The spring-loaded stiletto dagger, concealed within the seemingly normal leather band, burst out from the slot in the bracer's side and tore through the binding rope around his wrist with a loud 'snap'.
As the severed rope fell off, Dace caught the dagger in his good hand and twisted his body slightly, shifting his weight to one foot and slashing out at his captor. The scarred fanatic was quick to react, however, and was able to evade contact by leaping back.
"You erred in one thing when you shattered my fingers," growled Dace. He held his right arm out to the side, displaying the three fingers jutting out at unnatural angles. "You see, I am left-handed." He flipped his stiletto dagger over twice in his dominant hand.
Two hands or one, Dace knew he was infinitely better than this narrow-thinking freak. Launching himself forward, the mercenary reversed his grip on the stiletto and stabbed across at the zealot's neck, knowing that the fool would be able to block. The real purpose of the move was to close the distance between them.
Sure enough, Sintag angled his own blade and stopped Dace's stiletto in mid-strike. Dropping the torch in his other hand, Sintag lashed out and grabbed Dace's right hand, twisting two of his broken fingers. The mercenary clenched his teeth so hard that he heard a quiet 'popping' noise coming from his jaw.
The fallen torch made only a small field of illumination, leaving most of the tunnel pitch black in both directions. Dace slammed a knee up into the zealot's mid-section, and the sudden impact caused the scarred freak to lose his hold on the dagger. Sintag released his weapon, but was able to snatch Dace by the wrist, struggling to push the mercenary's stiletto blade away from his neck.
As they grappled, Dace already had the remainder of the melee charted out in his mind. Though it was almost completely dark beyond the flickering torchlight, he knew that the fight had moved them several feet from the edge of the reservoir, and that the zealot had both hands occupied.
The mercenary waited for the move. Predictably, Sintag briefly craned his neck back, preparing to smash his forehead against Dace's skull. In that instant, Dace acted. When Sintag drove his head forward, trying to bash himself against the mercenary, Dace allowed himself to fall backwards and raised a leg, planting a foot on the fanatic's torso.
As Dace landed flat on his back, he took advantage of the opponent's momentum and used his hold on the zealot to throw Sintag in the direction the freak was already moving. The freak went past overhead and fell down into the sewer pit behind Dace. The frustrated cry of Cyrael's henchman echoed up the reservoir chamber and was punctuated by a short splash.
Dace got off the ground and blew a wad of spittle down into the pit after the crazed zealot. Ignoring the litany of curses coming from the enemy below, Dace quickly recovered both his daggers and the torn cloak that Sintag dropped during their struggle. The maniac could drown down there, for all Dace cared.
Before leaving, Dace stepped up to the edge and peered down into the inky blackness. Part of him wanted to shout one last defiant insult at the defeated foe, but he quickly suppressed the urge. No sense in wasting words on a dead man.
"You'll never find your way back, blackheart!" screamed Sintag from the pit below. "The Winged One is immortal, he stands unopposed!"
"Pah." Almost sounds like a challenge. Although he didn't care that much about whatever grandiose scheme the winged creature was planning, Dace certainly wasn't going to let the earlier attempts on his own life simply slide. Cyrael had to pay for his pride.
Spite, vengeance. They were not the noblest of reasons for opposing the celestial, but Dace didn't care. They were human reasons, and that was enough for him.
Turning on his heel, the mercenary set off back down the sewer tunnels, leaving Sintag behind to drown. When he next faced Cyrael, he'd have to be far more careful than before. No charging in blindly, especially now that the creature's other henchmen were aware of Dace's existence. The mercenary was nonetheless satisfied that he could come out unscathed; even so-called 'immortals' could be destroyed under the right conditions.
He let out loud snot and clenched his jaw tight. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, the mercenary firmly grabbed his broken fingers and yanked them back into position, creating a series of loud, painful 'cracking' sounds.
Groaning under his breath, Dace tried unsuccessfully to move his injured fingers, but the searing pain remained constant. He'd have to track down a healer soon, or he might end up fighting one-handed for the rest of his life.
That would probably make his inevitable battle with the false celestial a bit more difficult, but he didn't care. After so many years in confinement, he could use the challenge.
Pressing his right forearm against the flat of the blade, he slid the stiletto dagger back into the slot on his left bracer until it clicked into position. Able-handed or not, he wasn't going to let the celestial walk away freely when they still had bones to pick. Dace took up the burning torch from the ground and focused on the corridor ahead, retracing in his mind the route that would lead him back to Cyrael's lair.
Things were beginning to come together, Dace knew, and it wouldn't be long before all opposing forces collided. And there was still so much to be done before the end.
(12:00 AM)