The Knight-Captain was on edge. Everything was going according to plan, but time was passing and Lord Nasher's patience was bound to wear thin. Her tasks of gathering allies and finding some way to defeat, or at least weaken the King of Shadows weren't much farther along than the planning stages.
A ten-day had passed since they'd petitioned Sehanine on behalf of Ammon Jerro's great-granddaughter. Two communions since then had given Tiernah and Isilme'len brief glimpses of the progress of the chosen ones. They were doing well and should return at the rise of the next full moon.
The angle of the sun through her bedroom window marked the time at near mid-day. Tie's efforts to pen something to Lord Nasher that made some kind of sense only produced a small pile of crumpled up paper on the bed's counterpane. She was about to curse out loud when a voice at the door made her look up.
"Writing your resignation?" her visitor asked, tail sweeping back and forth. "Or are you making fuzz-balls to start a fire with? You were never much good at starting one out in the field—Maybe you could take a lesson from princess Qara?"
The Knight-Captain put on a pained expression, looking up at the ceiling. "Defender of Neverwinter... how can you defend her here in the wilds of Highcliff? Have you deserted? I think the watch is coming—Can you hear them?"
With a harrumpf of disgust, her visitor spun and stalked to the front door.
Just about the time she would have reached the door, Tiernah called out, "Neeshka, good to see you. Where ya been?" With that, she sat back against the headboard and waited patiently.
The rogue poked her head around the door and sniffed. "I... that is, we, have been doing your job," she said, taking a look around the room. "Got anything to eat? I've been on the road since last night."
"'E'len will be home before the hour is up. She usually brings something from the bakery," Tie replied. "Have a seat and tell me about this job I'm not doing." Neeshka couldn't miss the edginess in her friend's tone.
"This... war... with the King of Shadows—A lot has happened," she said, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "As you know, Lord Nasher has set up a group of Cloaktower Mages in Crossroad Keep. The escape tunnel has rooms that fill the bill for them nicely. A day or so after getting them settled in, your foster-father came to us, looking for you. He left a message with Elanee—Said that the Circle of the Mere had survived."
"Then Kaleil was mistaken," Tie concluded. "They escaped the darkness that ensnared him."
"No... they didn't," she said with a shake of her head. "Elanee wasn't going to wait for you to return, so she rounded up Khelgar, Casavir, and Zhjaeve..."
"Casavir?" Tie interrupted. "Why was he involved in the circle's affairs?" She was mystified.
"He refused to let Elanee go to the mere alone. Khelgar jumped in as well." It was the rogue's turn to be mystified. "Well, anyway... we've been there before—Remember Arvahn? When we got to the mere, the druids held one of their own, Naevan, trapped in an ancient tree. Elanee... she... they treated her like she was responsible for them not feeling the malaise creeping up on the land. Then they had the gall to demand that she join them or die. They wanted the shadows to cleanse civilization from their sacred lands." She shook her head sadly.
The Knight-Captain had to smile—There was a time when her tiefling friend wouldn't have given a tinker's damn about the druids. "They were corrupted by the shadows. That seems to be the Illefarn Abomination's way. How did Elanee handle it?" she asked with some concern.
"She was devastated," Neeshka recounted. "We had to kill them...put them out of their misery. When Naevan was released, he tried to help her understand the act of love that it was. Her heart is still badly wounded, just like when we had to kill those wolves at the Highcliff Castle Ruins. It's going to take a while to heal.
"I guess Casavir will have something to do now," Tie mused. "He fancies himself to be a healer of broken hearts."
"Hello there, Carad Tarkar, Nae saian luume'," Rolan's mom ushered in the smell of fresh bread and a shepherd's pie.
"Isilme'len, Oio naa elealla alasse'," Neeshka returned somberly. When she'd first met E'len, there was a wall of reserve in the moon elf's manner that had taken a while to break down. Being friends with her son had moved the process along. When Rolan married Lillith, the moon elf had relaxed visibly.
"With perfect pronunciation," E'len smiled at Neeshka. "My Lady Knight-Captain, you are a good influence. You both must be hungry. Let me get to the kitchen and serve this while it is still warm." She left them to follow the enticing smell.
She slept the sleep of the just in a nest that commanded a view of a somewhat cluttered territory. There was enough cover for her prey to wander with little worry about safety. That foolish notion would be swept away like smoke on the breeze when she pounced. Their lives given to continue her existence.
Sharp eyesight, keen hearing, and a well developed sense of smell were the tools of her trade. Her weapons; Well adapted teeth and claws, all directed by a dark intelligence and a killer instinct bent on survival, were always ready. A growing hunger hadn't grown strong enough to rouse her...yet.
She awoke with a start. The smell of food made her hunger that much more demanding. Edging quietly to the bluff, she looked down...
When they crossed the sitting room, Neeshka paused to admire a wall hanging mounted over the mantel. It was an intricately carved relief of a ship under sail working its way through a heavy sea. A polished brass plate at the bottom read; His Majesty Lord Nasher Alagondar's Northern Falcon—Capt. Martin Edgewater, Master. 1374 DR.
Just below the plate, mounted on two sturdy cord wrapped pegs was a weapon like Neeshka had never seen. The blade on this scimitar was fully a hand wide, with more curve from handguard to point than seemed practical. The scabbard was split for more than the first third of its length just to encase this mighty weapon.
Impressive side-arm, the rogue thought. She'd never met the esteemed captain, but if he was anything like his son, Nasher's fleet lost a hell-of-a-sailor when he retired. She turned, making a quick scan of the room—Something or someone was watching her, tickling that awareness most good scouts carefully developed. Seeing nothing there, she followed Tiernah across the dining room to the kitchen.
An outraged squawk from the dining room caused E'len to pause cutting the pie and look up. "I think Moonbow's got another victim," she said, finishing the cut and turning to set out plates. "She jumps Rolan all the time, especially when he's not looking." After thinking for a moment, she offered some advice; "If you see her looking down from her nest on the breakfront, just hiss at her. She sees you watching; She'll leave you alone."
Heh...the back-stabber gets back-stabbed, Tie thought with wry amusement. Here was another dart she could throw at Neeshka-When the time was right. She grabbed a cup and picked up the kettle.
"Where in the nine hells did you find this damned thing?" the rogue asked, holding out a ball of squealing russet colored fury at arm's length. "Shush... you devil," she commanded. "You're done—It's over."
The familiar quieted, hanging limply in Neeshka's grip. She then bit the rogue's hand, as if to say, it's not over 'til Moonbow says it's over, and ran up an arm.
They were once again in Tie's bedroom, sitting on the bed with a fully fed, contented spirit vessel asleep between them.
"At this point, we're covering for you," Neeshka began. "I heard from Ophala that Lord Nasher is wondering what's taking you so long."
"It's complicated," her friend replied. "Lillith and Rolan are on a trial. We don't know where they are or when they'll return. It may be two more ten-days; A full month. One thing we are sure of; Both E'len and I need to be here and in communion for their return."
"I'll have to take your word on that," the rogue was skeptical. "Anyway... to keep the nobles off my back, I rounded up Khelgar and the gang; Me, him, Zhjaeve, Elanee, and, are you ready? Qara..."
"Qara..." Tie broke in. "Are you sure that was wise? What about her and Ammon?" She didn't want to come home to a pile of ashes that was once called Crossroad Keep.
"I'm still in the dark about that," Neeshka replied, a thoughtful look on her face. "Elanee and Grobnar are involved somehow. The druid is being evasive about it." She reached down to touch Moonbow's fur. "Ammon wanders around in a daze, muttering about selling his soul, and Qara is her usual snotty self. Though, there is a kind of triumphant strut in her gait. I'll need to dig to get to the bottom of it."
"Well, good luck with that," Tie replied. She knew how hard it was to understand what went on in one's absence, let alone, find out what really happened. "If you can motivate Qara and get her going in the right direction, she can be a valuable asset," the Knight-Captain said, believing that was the most important lesson of leadership. "So, who was the leader of this band of hellions?" she was almost afraid to ask.
"Zhjaeve," the rogue replied, smiling at her friend's confusion. "We didn't all decide, or anything... it just... happened. I like her because she has nothing to gain;I trust her. Khelgar, like any good dwarf with bad breath, just follows along. Elanee respects her wisdom. Qara is in awe of her; It's like the Githzerai... is... her mother?" Neeshka wasn't into figuring out life's mysteries.
"The Zerth's leadership can only better your odds for success," Tie agreed. Though her reason for being in Faerun was a mystery, Zhjaeve earned respect for her quiet demeanor and logical thinking. She seemed a bit passive for a leader, but that could be the person she wanted to portray. "So, the group is ready—Where to?" the Knight-Captain prodded.
Neeshka rolled her eyes and continued; "Khelgar, gods love him, was of the opinion that his clan would jump right in with Neverwinter. Boy, was he mistaken. When we got to the clanhold, remember the bugbears?" she asked with a sniff. "his brother Keros practically spit on him, and threw us all out. Before the door could close on us, stumpy's other brother, Khulmar, took us aside and showed us a way to win the clan's respect."
"Overthrow Keros?" Tie ventured a guess. "Take the throne from that upstart..."
"You're half right," the rogue cut in. "As usual," she smirked. "Remember the Gauntlets of Ironfist we found... we found when liberating the clanhold from the bugbears? Khulmar showed us this great hulking hammer that no one could lift without magical help. It turned out that those gloves, paired with another relic," she rolled her eyes again, "called The Belt of Ironfist enabled one to lift this artifact of great significance, and entitled him to the clan's throne." she finished, taking a deep breath.
"Does this entrancing tale have an end?" the Knight-Captain asked, placing a thumb on her chin to keep her head up.
"I'm here aren't I?" the rogue asked, starting to heat up. "Long story leads to short ending; The belt was given to the fire giants on Mount Galardrym by their greatly esteemed King Loudram. Khelgar is touchy about that legend. The fire giants said that Loudram was a coward and gave them the belt to save their sorry hides."
"I'm sure that didn't go over well with the Ironfists," Tie mused.
"I think Loudram did run, but that's not the point," Neeshka continued. "The Gith defused the situation after we kicked some fire giant butt by presenting the belt to the dwarf in a ceremony atop that pile of blistering hot rock. Speaking of hot, mistress Qara outdid herself when she used all cold spells on the giants; Not a peep of dissent nor disrespect from her. Could it be that... she's... growing up?" the rogue wondered.
"There's always hope, I suppose," Tie replied. Don't look now, my friend, but someone else is too, she thought proudly.
"To wrap it up," she said. "Khelgar lifted the mighty Hammer of Ironfist, giving him the right to rule the Ironfists." Then she shook her head. "And do you know the first bonehead move King Khelgar made?" she asked, an almost comical moue twisted her face.
Knowing the state of the uneasy truce between dwarf and tiefling, Tiernah shook her head.
"He put that bastard Keros right back in charge," Neeshka couldn't believe how stupid a smelly dwarf, could be.
"There is a bit of wisdom in what he did." Tie was thoughtful. "It united both factions in a divided clan; The members that were faithful to the crown, along with the few who refused to abandon a brother. It's what I would have done; I'm sure you would have too."
"I guess you're right, I never was one for deep thinking," she sighed, then her eyes lit up. "There's something on that mountain that could really help us," she enthused. "There is a dragon's hoard with the biggest pile of gold I've ever seen. It would take a small army to haul it all away."
"Along with a small army to kill the dragon that guards it, right?" Tiernah asked with a straight face.
"With the power you've assembled, I think we could do it," the rogue insisted. "But that's for later, much later. Right now, a fellow named Khralver is waiting at the Phoenix Tail Inn. He says Sydney Natale wants to meet with you, Zhjaeve, and Qara; Said something about the shadow reavers. He refused to say any more. It may be a trap though," Neeshka said, her instinct about traps was always dead on.
The Knight-Captain's decision was easy. Although Natale's request was suspect, the moon elf felt compelled to at least talk with Luskan's replacement for their recently disgraced ambassador, Torio Claven. "Let's see what our friends from Luskan have to say," Tiernah proposed. "Do you need rest, or are you good-to-go?" she asked.
"I'm always ready," the rogue shot back. "You won't be waiting on me. My stuff is in the sitting room; Still packed up."
"Do you have any arrows?" Tie asked as she carefully stowed a change of clothes in her battle pack; She'd decided to travel lightly to Crossroad Keep to meet Natale's emissary. From the rack in the corner, she selected her Elven Court Lightningbow and Eridis Harvester. The harvester was a bit heavy, but something told her there would be a good use for it. "Let's go," she said, giving Moonbow a thorough scratching. "Stay here, sweetheart, we'll be back before you know it."
"Here, you can have half of these," Neeshka handed Tie the arrows. "They're adamantine—Being a lieutenant in Neverwinter's service has to be good for something, right?"
As the Knight-Captain and the Cloaktower-Lieutenant approached the Highcliff Village court-house, they couldn't help but notice the group of village watchmen clustered around their chosen leader—Elder Mayne.
"Elder, the south gate and the entire wall is demolished," a young man dressed in the uniform of the watch reported. "The lizards patrol that south side—nobody gets in, nobody goes out. The Cliffwalk to the landing is blockaded, as well. It's strange, though, we're not under siege to the north, it's clear."
"Good job, Milton," the Elder replied. "Any casualties?"
"Three, Elder—Two of our guards killed in the first encounter and one wounded," he answered. "We've captured one of them. It's in the holding pen in the village square."
"Very well, watchman, split your forces and station half at the south gate and the other half at Cliffwalk," he said. After dismissing his watch sergeant, the Elder turned to Tiernah and Neeshka, saying, "I remember you two—your timing is fortuitous. It seems the lizards are in revolt again. Can I assume that you're here to help us again?"
"Certainly, Elder—We are at your service," Tie was looking down the street at the burned out watchtower that had once commanded the south gate. "What happened here?" she asked.
The Elder was puzzled. "We don't know for certain. The lizardmen appeared this morning at the south end of the village. They haven't tried to move into Highcliff itself. They simply stood their ground and fortified themselves right outside the ruined gate.
The Elder's clerk Juni then spoke up; "After they killed two of our village watchmen, those beasts blocked the Cliffwalk itself, so now we have no access to the water."
"So, we'll find them at the south gate?" Tie asked. Her first step was to make contact. The negotiations could continue from there.
"They have larger encampments south of the village, but they maintain a blockade just outside. We did manage to take one of their soldiers captive in the first fight, but it has yet to offer any useful information." With that said, the Elder led them to the makeshift prison.
Neeshka looked up from her examination of the wounded lizardman. "He's in a bad way. I'll do what I can." She addressed the sour faced watchman standing at the gate to the cattle-pen-turned-prison, "Did you even think to treat your prisoner? What if he dies?"
"One less to worry about," the guard said, with a shrug. "They killed two of my friends—Should I care?"
The rogue turned back to her task with a sigh. "He doesn't realize the chance we have here," she grumbled. "Bringing this soldier back alive will score points with the lizards—There's at least a chance they'll listen if we do."
"Good point," Tie agreed, passing her a healing kit. "We'll also get some idea of what's going on. The watch is clueless." She though for a moment, looked up at the guard, then added, "Something tells me we're on our own here."
The rogue met her eyes, but said nothing.
The lizard soldier didn't like the taste of the healing potion, but he took it any way. "You help Vlssk... why?" he asked, sitting with his back to a corner post. His eyes never left the guard slouching at the barred gate.
"I don't let the helpless die," the moon elf said, making a big show of tending the lizard's wounds. "But I need to know why your tribe is here."
His eyes flicked down to the sutures in an arm. He winced at the pain and said, "Highcliff is ancient home. Warmbloods take from tribes." His watchful eyes returned to the guard. "Now we take back."
Neeshka's eyes bored into hers. They were thinking alike; Something's happened to their leader. The lizards rarely broke a treaty without good reason. "But, Highcliff is far from your ancestral home in the mere. This isn't a swamp—What use is it to your people?" Tie asked.
It was as if he was reciting dogma; "Once, all land here is swamp—Tribe's swamp. Batha say so. He speak for tribe and he speak for spirits; He chief—He shaman." the lizardman said with the conviction of a true believer.
"Where is Batha?" Tie inquired, seeing her chance to meet the lizardfolk's new chief. "We'd like to speak with him."
Vlssk was struggling to gain his feet. Tie and Neeshka stepped forward to help him. Waving them away, he replied, "Batha will speak to Shard-Bearer." He looked directly at the Knight-Captain. "Vlssk take Shard-Bearer to Pod-Leader." He swayed on his feet. This time, he reluctantly tolerated their assistance.
The lizard warrior led them south, past a neglected kitchen-garden to the pod of lizards besieging the village. They encountered some resistance from the guard at the pen when leaving, but the rogue convinced him that interfering with crown affairs was not a good idea—He reluctantly yielded, assuring them that releasing the enemy was treason.
"The Shard-Bearer," Vlssk called out. "The Shard-Bearer is here." The sound of running feet answered the lizard's call.
A familiar figure parted the assembled pod of lizard warriors, surprising the Knight-Captain. "Slaan, why did your people turn on the villagers of Highcliff? We had a treaty," she asked with a hint of challenge.
The pod-leader drew himself up to his full height, his followers were watching. "Slaan not want break truce, but Batha say we must for good of tribes. Tribes now strong because of Batha. We can live, even with swamp gone. But Slaan not want harm village. Slaan and tribe stay and guard, only fight human when must." His tone was for his followers, his words were for the Shard-Bearer.
Tie admired the lizardman's honor. One day, he would be chief—She was sure of it. "Then, we need to speak with Batha. Can you take us to him?" she asked.
"Slaan send runner—You will talk to Batha when he come. Batha will know what to do," he answered, relieved that the Shard-Bearer had finally come to meet with the lizardfolk's shaman-chief.
Grey Co. Elven Translations;
Carad Tarkar-Red Horns
Nae saian luume'-It has been too long.
Oio naa elealla alasse'-Ever is thy sight a joy.