Chapter 6 – Allies…
Grim men spread out over the roof. Four of them, either by luck or design, headed to corner where the thieves were. Catching sight of them, the men shouted and started to run, each eager to be the one to kill or capture the fools who dared steal from the Zhentarim.
A portion of the roof between the four charging men and the thieves was covered in thin shadows of a lean-to and drying racks, cast by the bright moon. Roland ran forward to intercept the Zhentarim before they could pass that darkened section. Pulling throwing stars from her belt, Daelynn moved to her left, drawing two of the four men away from Roland.
There was not much in the way of shadow with which to work. At the elder thief's command, the stretch of darkness upon which he was concentrating rippled just as the two black-clad men crossed over it. One tripped and fell flat. He lay pinned to the ground by a formless darkness that chilled even his jaded soul. The second man was nimbler; he stumbled but kept his feet. Roland was ready. Knives glinted in the moonlight. In mere seconds the Zhentari fell dead at Roland's feet. He cast a quick glance back at his apprentice, then turned his attention to his remaining opponent. Focusing his mind, Roland tightly closed his left fist as if crushing something in his hand. A muffled scream, some gurgling, and the sound of what could have been twigs snapping echoed across the roof. The shadow enshrouded form lay still.
With flicks of her wrists Daelynn sent two throwing stars at her furthest foe. He staggered and slowed. The second Zhentari closed on her, reaching forward with one hand, the other hand, holding a short-sword, swung back, lining up for a deadly strike. The elf grabbed the man's outstretched wrist, twisted, and pulled him closer. A quick twist and she threw him over her hip. He landed hard, teetering just at the roof edge. A kick sent him tumbling over and into the alley below. Daelynn dropped low, expecting her other opponent to have recovered from the shock of being struck by shuriken and be upon her. But he lay ten feet away, sprawled on his back. Lifeless eyes staring up at the night sky.
The elf scurried forward, and removed her two stars; one from the Zhentari's neck, the other from a shoulder. While they had slowed him, it was the short arrow sticking up from his chest that had killed him. It had entered from his front, right side. She quickly cast a glance around and behind her. There, on the roof of the adjacent warehouse – the moon-cast shadow of someone holding a bow! Before she could make out any other details, the figure stepped behind the cover of a derrick, disappearing from view.
The Zhentarim saw it first. Pointing skyward, one of the ship's crew shouted, attracting the attention of his fellows. Daelynn and Roland could see the Zhentrim nearest them gazing upwards; the men started shouting and gesticulating wildly. Roland and Daelynn looked up and froze in place. High above the wide canal, a winged figure hovered in the sky. Outlined by the moon it made a beautiful, and at the same time a terrible sight. Folding her wings, the Deva dove towards the rooftop, quickly gaining speed. Daelynn gasped - she expected the Deva to crash in to the Zhentarim, who were attempting to close ranks in an effort to protect themselves. A vain effort.
The Deva suddenly spread her wings wide, halting her reckless dive, then forcefully brought them together in a thundering clap. A boom echoed across the roof, washing over the men. Sailcloth, cordage and their supporting racks flew off the roof, landing in the yard below. Bodies were sent tumbling. All the Zhentarim were knocked off their feet; half were left stunned with some being deafened.
Leaping in to the air, the Deva wheeled overhead, then dropped out of sight into the yard below. She emerged at the far end of the warehouse, passing over Daelynn's position. She carried two flaming branches torn from the bonfires that still burned on the warehouse grounds. She turned sharply, her flight taking her over the Zhentari ship. Without pause she dropped the brands, one landing on the man deck in a pile of rope, the other falling through an open hatchway. She continued flying east following The Creek, disappearing into the night.
Someone on the ship started ringing an alarm bell. With groans and curses, the surviving Zhentarim on the roof began to stagger to their feet. A few, unable to bear the awful power of the wronged and vengeful Celestial, lay where they had fallen. This was the thieves chance to flee. Daelynn pointed at Roland, then to the side the building and alleyway.
"Go!" she shouted.
He nodded and ran to the side of the warehouse. Using his climbing skills and with assistance from summoned shadows, he easily descended to the ground. The elf did not follow. Daelynn looked across the alley at the roof of the building beside her. She could not see the archer who had slain the Zhentari but suspected that they were still over there. Discretion battled with curiosity. Curiosity won. She clambered around the derrick supports and started running out along the derrick arm. The wooden beam was several inches wide - keeping her balance was no great feat. She was almost at the end of the arm! From there, it was but a leap to the other derrick, and a simple walk along it to the other warehouse roof.
An arrow thudded into the beam below her foot. She cast a quick look down and back. Several men on the ship, not engaged in fighting the fire that had caught below decks, were aiming bows and crossbows at her. Not good! Two more arrows flew by her head. She was at the end of the crane arm. Goddess! The other arm looked so far away! Could she jump that? Ropes dangled below the crane. If she missed the jump there was chance she could catch one of those ropes.
The cold, dark waters of The Creek lay beneath her. Zhentarim were still on the warehouse roof behind her. Another missile whizzed past. She crouched and prepared to jump when an arrow, better aimed than its fellows, pierced her left thigh. Daelynn cried out, her leg buckling. In an amazing display of concentration and balance she pulled herself back over the beam. Left undisturbed she likely could have regained a secure perch on the wooden arm. From there she might have been able to lower herself down the ropes to the canal or even to the pier along the warehouse. But that was not to be.
A blunt crossbow quarrel hit her high in the back. Zhentarim used blunted bolts when hunting small game, or to stun their targets and do minimum damage to the merchandise. Much against her will, the elf toppled off the crane into the dark waters below.
Daelynn hit the surface hard. The arrow in her leg tore out. She tried to scream but cold water filled her mouth. Her heavy cloak wrapped itself around her limbs. She flailed. She could not catch her breath! As she sank below the surface, she though that Sir Roland would be very displeased to lose another apprentice.
Roland slipped along the now empty alleyway between the warehouses. At the pier he peeked out and back towards the black ship. In the light offered by Selune he could see smoke billowing out of the ship's hold, but no sign of flames. A few men near the stern were pointing up at one of the derricks. Looking up and out over the canal Roland saw Daelynn poised at the end of the crane arm. Stupid girl! Why had she gone that way? To try to draw them away for him, no doubt. He saw the two missiles strike her. Heard a cheer from the ship. Watched the elf fall. Saw her go under the water. He waited a moment, then a moment longer. She did not resurface.
It was dour old thief who returned to his coach on the far side of the canal. He met only two obstacles, both in the form of guards at the bridge set up by the Red Scar gang when the auction had started. The Red Scars tried to stop him. He slew them.
Reaching the coach, he nodded curtly to his coachman. The man roused the horses and made ready to leave. Roland stopped, his hand on the coach door. He turned and slowly walked to the edge of the wide canal. The warehouse was now dark, with no sign of movement near it. The black ship had put out and by use of oars and a small sail was moving downstream. After a set of locks The Creek joined the River Silver. The Zhentarim could make it to the sea in a day or so. And then what? Home? Roland doubted that a certain avenging Angel would make it easy for them.
An arm suddenly rose from the beneath the surface of water and grabbed onto the stone lip of the canal. He jumped back, hand dropping to knife, left fist raised. The arm was followed by Daelynn's head and shoulders. The elf gasped, sucking in air. Soaking wet, wounded, bedraggled, and half-drowned the elf, with Roland's assistance, crawled out of the water.
"Nice night for a swim, was it?" the thief asked of his student.
In reply, Daelynn retched, spewing water over his boots.
It was only with Roland's help that she made it to the coach. He pulled a blanket out from somewhere and wrapped her in it. He checked her over. It was a bad leg wound, and the way she was holding herself suggested a broken rib or two. Likely from the fall. Burns on her right forearm. Her right sleeve was torn open at the shoulder. The beautiful fish tattoo was now a dull, flat black. All color seemed to have been removed from it.
"Thet aunt o' yours? The one who does such nice tattoos. An artist," he asked?
"Yes."
"And a mage?"
"Yes."
"Ah. Water breathin' spell then?"
"Yes."
"Hmm. Let's get you fixed up. It's gonna take a Healer. I know a good one. He doesn'a ask questions, but it'll take some gold. You can work off that debt by finding Braxes for me. Goin' ta tell me why you want'd to try thet jump?"
Daelynn told Roland of the archer who had helped her against the Zhentari.
"We have an ally," she wheezed.
Her mentor let out a harsh laugh. "More likely jest someone who dislikes the Zhentarim. An' I'd not count the Deva as an ally either. But at least she's no enemy of ours. An odd night this 'as been."
"Allies might be unknown, but we do now have an enemy. The Zhentarim," opined the elf.
"Na. Ship's left. They've no idea who we were. I would na' worry about them."
Daelynn was slumped into a corner of the coach, not really listening anymore. Something between sleep and passing-out had claimed her.
