Chapter 46 Making It up as We Go Along, or a Good Man is Hard to Save
Usual disclaimers: Most of the characters in this story are owned by Bioware, Atari, Hasbro, and a whole lot of other people other than a bear and paladin-lovin' ranger and an occasional NPC. Lots of NPCs in this case.
Leather and Mignon led the way to the Luskan camp as the others left to get into position. She put her dainty white hand on his shoulder and whispered, "You are nervous, no? I certainly am."
He paused and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "As I always am before I go on stage to dance, lovie. Or when some big, smelly, hairy teamster sneaks in to the back door of the festhall looking for a purty boy. Follow my lead. Remember our story and give the others time. And remember, we're fabulous."
She returned a slightly less nervous smile. "You are so very cocky."
He smirked and ran a hand through his thick, golden hair, which fell just below his ears. "Yes, that's one of my biggest charms. That's what Sir Nevalle says anyway. Never fear. At the worst you're going to have to show a Luskan pig your lovely tits."
They made enough noise so that the Luskans had to know someone was coming, and enough noise to cover Hiram's crashing through the brush. Leather didn't know where the other two were, but he knew they could be silent as a ghost if they needed to be, especially that strange, sneaky little girl. When they could see the low fire through the trees, Leather called out, "Help us, please."
The Luskans didn't react as they crashed into the clearing other than to look up at them. The man in the chain mail shirt was sharpening a skinning knife beneath a rope he had rigged up in a tree as hunters did to hang a carcass for skinning and gutting. The woman was laying out sets of shackles among others that had been cleaned. "What the hells are you doing out here!," the man with the knife barked.
Leather tried to sound weak. "Water, please..."
Mignon leaned against him for support, also trying to look exhausted. She repeated his call for water and emphasized her Cormyran accent. "And food, if you have it...we are so 'ungry. Thank the gods we found your camp."
Neither of the Luskans moved to help, but the man with the knife pointed at them menacingly. "You didn't answer my question."
Leather hoped the others were in position by now as he repeated the story he had been rehearsing in his mind. "We are actors traveling with our troupe to Waterdeep...skeletons and zombies attacked us in the night and killed two of our friends. We ran and ran and just escaped with our lives. Another of our friends died of her wounds last night. We've been walking for hours, and then we smelled your campfire. Please help us."
Mignon tried to look as if she was about to faint. "Have mercy. We would be very grateful. Please, I have a few silvers, or we could work for you to repay your 'ospitality." She tried to look desperate enough to do anything.
The woman scowled and tossed a water skin and a pouch of hardtack at Leather. "Take it and get moving!," she snapped and looked away quickly. Whether these two knew it or not, she was trying to be merciful by sending them away. She watched her companion warily out of the corner of her eye as she continued to work. She shared his bedroll, so she knew better than anyone what he could be like.
The man stood and gave them a tight, cruel smile, rubbing the lacing on his trewes suggestively. "How grateful exactly?" The others might be back for hours, and he was bored with the dirty work Ragnar had left for them. He wasn't above letting these two show him how grateful they were before he slit their throats and kicked their bodies into a nearby gulch, or used them as practice for skinning Bishop when he got his hands on him. Or not, depending on how his mood struck him. "Both of you feelin' grateful?"
Leather handed the waterskin to Mignon, who drank as if very thirsty before she turned it over to him. She bit her lip as if nervous and looked at Leather, who nodded at her. "Yes, if that is your wish." She tried unsuccessfully to look away from the shackles and ropes arranged on the ground.
The man followed her eyes then motioned them on. "Come over here behind this boulder then where we can have some privacy." He shot a warning look at his companion, who looked down at the ground like a kicked dog. Leather gave him his most seductive smile and followed him. Mignon glanced back at the woman who still would not meet her eyes. Hoping Wolf and the others were close enough to hear where they were going, they followed.
The man led them to a clearing next to a steep gulch and wasted no time in grabbing Leather roughly by his hair and forcing him to face him. Leather wondered why the big, smelly ones always went for the hair as he steeled himself for whatever followed. It wasn't lost on Mignon that the Luskan still held the hunting knife in his right hand. The Luskan nodded at Mignon. "This your woman?" Leather nodded back as much as he could with the way he was held. He forced him to his knees then released his hold on his hair. "She can watch while you show her what you would do for her."
"Whatever you want." Mignon sidled up to him with a practiced smile, and he paused unfastening his trewes to shove her to her knees too.
The Luskan woman looked in the direction they had gone and cursed. She was left all the work as usual, and more annoyed that her partner chased any tail he could get his hands on. But she also felt something akin to pity for what her partner would do to two people alone out in the middle of nowhere if he had enough time. She followed them after a few minutes and said angrily, "They've seen too much, Braden. Ragnar will have our hides before you get that ranger's if we're not ready when they get back!" She swiftly drew her dagger, planning to put the two of them out of their misery before they knew what happened. Whether they appreciated it or not, she was showing them the only mercy she understood.
They all turned their heads to look at her. The man glowered at her and spit venomously, "Yeah, they have seen too much, but that doesn't mean you have to spoil my fun, you jealous bitch!"
He flicked his knife out at them faster than Mignon could scream. Leather had sensed it all going bad and loosed his flail as the man slashed at Mignon, who had begun chanting softly, summoning the energy for a spell, holding her hands fanned out before her. But he was faster. He caught her across her neck and disrupted her spell as the first flames fanned out at him. Yet as he jumped back to avoid the beginnings of the flames, his attack wasn't so deep as to kill her outright. She stumbled back, clutching the wound and trying to staunch the blood streaming out. Leather lashed him hard with the flail, but his angle was all wrong and the man turned the blade around and slashed him across his cheek to his jaw, just missing his eye. He screamed but managed to raise the flail for another blow.
The woman entered the fight making sure of her target, stabbing Leather in the back without emotion. A heartbeat later, an arrow flew past her and lodged in the man's right eye, followed immediately by another through his cheek. The woman spun in surprise looking in the direction the arrows had come from and caught Hiram's heavy cudgel full in the face. The force of the blow threw her head back with so much force that it snapped her neck, and she crumpled to the ground. Zeta appeared behind the man and thrust her own dirk into his kidney to finish him off.
Hiram stood staring dumbly at the woman he killed, his bloody cudgel still raised. Mignon had fainted. Zeta knelt beside the sorceress, took out one of their few healing potions, and poured it directly on her wound. She immediately pressed the flesh together, as Neeshka had instructed her. Wolf watched Zeta's progress as he checked the Luskans for life, but they were gone. Leather had slumped to the ground holding his hands to his face and moaning softly, more concerned with that wound than the excruciatingly painful and much more deadly wound in his back. Hiram still stared in disbelief at the woman he had killed.
Wolf frowned and slapped Hiram lightly on the back to snap him out of his shock. He still didn't know how at sixteen (and the youngest) he had become the leader. But he had already killed during the battle at Crossroads Keep. "It's awful, I know. Ain't like a deer or a skeleton. Let's hide these two before the others get back. Mignon is coming around, and Zeta can take care of Leather." Hiram blinked and nodded numbly then helped Wolf drag the bodies to the gulch where the Luskan had planned to dispose of Leather and Mignon. After they pushed the bodies over the edge, Hiram sat heavily on a rock to wait for the others, praying softly to Kelemvor to not judge the woman he killed too harshly.
Leather wasn't hurt as bad as Mignon had been, who required another of their healing potions before she fully came around. Leather called on Sharess's grace to heal himself, terrified the wound on his face would left an ugly scar. But he was struck by how selfish that was when his friend was nearly killed. He sat beside Mignon and begged her forgiveness for ignoring the signs of the danger they were in. She put her arms around him and burst into tears as he held her and murmured softly that it was all his fault.
Hardened by years of living on the street and having seen far worse horrors than this, Wolf and Zeta efficiently cleaned up the scene of the fight. Mignon was coherent enough to use a Clean cantrip after they finished to remove the blood from the ground and from her dress, though her voice was still hoarse. Wolf climbed nimbly up the tree to remove the rope that was intended to hang Bishop for skinning. While Hiram and Wolf stood guard, Zeta looted the dead Luskans' packs and tossed them in the gulch with their owners' bodies. She looted anything in the camp that could be sold or looked useful to make it look as if their companions had deserted when the other Luskans returned. She explained that this was entirely plausible judging from what she had overheard of their conversation.
Leather was still trembling in shock. All his cold youthful bravado had melted away like snow in the rain. Wolf scowled and knelt beside him and whispered, "Come on, snap out of it. Those others could be back any time, and we have to be ready."
He looked up at Wolf fearfully. "Are we ever going to be ready?"
Hiram ambled over and offered him a hand up. "Aye. We have to be, lad, especially if they come back with the Captain and her friends. 'Tis that or they rot in a Luskan dungeon. We're their only chance. Are you two still in?"
He and Mignon looked at each other. They were shaken, but the resolve of the others strengthened them. Mignon said softly, "Yes, but must be sure we are ready for any circumstance, no?"
At the Keep, Kana sent one of the guards to the kitchen for food and water, while she sent two other Greycloaks to requisition fast horses to find the two rescue parties and give them word of what had happened. She sat at her desk to write out the orders while Brother Ivarr cast a healing spell on Sand for injuries the mage was only vaguely conscious of. Khelgar served as spokesman aided by Neeshka, giving a brief account of the aftermath after assuring Sir Nevalle that the King of Shadows had been destroyed, but how the resulting implosion had weakened the structure, forcing them to run for their lives. He didn't mention Bishop's part yet, nor Qara's. Nevalle listened with restrained impatience until Khelgar finished his account of Dee's abduction, having him repeat parts and describe the creatures in detail as well as the portal they vanished through.
Khelgar was also growing impatient. "By Tyr's left buttock, that's all there is to tell! Enough words, we have to find her." Naloth echoed this with a growl, though he was concerned with reuniting with his own bonded.
"And where exactly do you expect us to start?" The knight threw up his arms and tried but failed to hide his skepticism. He turned to the sage. "Aldanon, have you ever heard of such creatures?"
The sage scoffed. "Of course, my boy. Indeed, there are any number of creatures that match the dwarf's description, and any number of people in any number of places who could have opened such a portal to abduct her. This is your metaphoric needle in a haystack. There was, however, a spell in that tome that I was just beginning to decipher. I believe it might allow one to trace magical emanations cast within a month to their source." He sighed in disappointment as he reached into the basket on his lap and discovered he had finished all the sticky buns.
Sand thanked Brother Ivarr, who patted his shoulder and moved on to Grobnar, who had also been too excited to realize how badly hurt he was. Madame Maisie and two of her girls ran over from the festhall as soon as she heard the news to see if they could help, and to reunite Sand with his beloved Jaral. Sand took his regular seat beside the Captain's chair where he advised her in the audience chamber with his familiar kneading his lap and purring loudly. The elf steepled his slender fingers under his chin. "We could search through the library for tendays and learn nothing of what sort of creatures abducted her, but we would be better off, in my opinion, using the resources of the Many-Starred Cloaks, along with that spell in the tome."
Nevalle sat on the Captain's other side in the seat usually occupied by his cousin Casavir, not conscious of the pained expression this brought to Khelgar and Sand's faces. "Our possession of the Tome of Iltkazar is another issue. We risk trouble, even war with Ruathym once word reaches them that it is in Neverwinter, and I don't put it past Luskan to let them know we have it and suggest it was agents of Neverwinter who stole it from them in the first place. Thus we cannot allow it to be taken to Neverwinter. It must be returned to Ruathym as soon as possible."
"But I've only just scratched the surface of the knowledge contained within it." Aldanon pouted at the knight, who wasn't moved. He whined like a child begging for another cookie. "You don't understand! It was written by the Mage-king of Iltkazar! It contains the bulk of his knowledge! The Mage-King of Iltkazar!" Nevalle wasn't any more impressed by this tidbit either.
"But if there's a spell in it that will help us find her..." Neeshka interjected, pulling up a side chair without being asked to join in the discussion. "What I don't understand is how they even knew where to open a portal to find her in the first place. Could they have been tracing her somehow? Through the sword maybe? Remember she used to say all the time she felt like she was being watched, but we assumed it was Garius or Luskan scrying her...or she was being paranoid." She noted that neither Sand nor Khelgar met her eyes, and she sighed deeply. "We all thought it, alright, but now we know better. Could the Luskans have taken her for revenge?"
Nevalle frowned. "Possible, but doubtful. I don't believe Luskan would be so bold. However, I'm growing concerned that that Wolf and Leather haven't returned from following that Luskan squad they saw in the woods. Perhaps they are involved." He was in fact very concerned at the absence of his beautiful young lover, more than he was willing to show. "Sand? You are familiar with the workings of the Hosttower."
Sand was drinking greedily from a flask of water that Madame Maisie had just brought him. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe and realized how filthy it was, as well as how filthy he was too. But for once he didn't care. "I agree. Our agents report there is still a Luskan bounty on her, though in my opinion, Luskan is more likely to act covertly. As for Neeshka's question, there are many ways, and there is the possibility that she was taken using some esoteric magic that the average mage would be unfamiliar with. It might be as simple as having sent her some object they could use as a focal point. Also, the Tome of Iltkazar is but one of many ancient grimoires which have been discovered in the past few years. The Zhents are notorious for seeking such knowledge, and there have been rumors that the Lich-king of Thay has teams chasing legends and searching ruins all over the known world to increase Thay's power."
Grobnar sat on the dais next to Sand with a bowl of oatmeal brought to him by his young apprentice. "A focal point could be anything. It could be the sword, or it could be something as simple as an enchanted stone. Has the Captain received any gifts lately from someone outside of our circle of acquaintances?"
Kana pushed a thick strand of hair that had come lose from her normally immaculate bun aside. She had given up on any notion of sleep, now running on adrenaline and coffee, and thus replied more crossly than she intended. "All the time, at least several times a tenday. Everything that is sent to the Captain is logged, and a good deal of it is turned over to the armory or Neverwintan treasury, or saved as largess to give to visitors of note. This pointless speculation doesn't help us find her."
Grobnar ignored the irritation in her voice as he poured honey into his bowl. "Yes, but how many things has she received that she carries on her person? There is a difference."
Neeshka bounced up out of her chair, talking excitedly through a mouthful of apple. "Mmph somethin' like that locket? Remember that?" She finished the bite with a forced swallow and continued. "You know, the one that has the miniature of Cas and Cillian? She was sure that Cas had commissioned it, but he denied it, and no one knows who sent it. She thought it was sweet. But she thought its case was kinda ugly too, so she carries it in one of her dagger sleeves in her brigandine. Apart from that, I can't think of any gift she carries with her."
Kana rubbed her face tiredly. "Yes, I remember her insisting Casavir bought it and his insistence that he did not lie. She showed it to me. I thought it rather gaudy and didn't think the likeness to Casavir was very strong, but she was pleased with being sent a gift that was personal rather than yet another jewel-encrusted sword or Duskwood bow to be turned over to the armory. I can look through the log to see who sent it. I do recall it arrived by courier, and he waited because the Captain wanted to send payment to the artist." She stood and looked at a bookcase beside her desk where she kept her ledgers and found it in minutes. "Arro Djann was the artist who sent it, according to this. That still isn't anything but a name, but it's a start."
Nevalle now recalled her showing him the locket, which he agreed wasn't the best likeness of either Casavir or the bear. But the case was covered in delicate exotic gold filigree and studded with gems. "The locket itself had a foreign look to it. I could swear I've seen that kind of scrollwork somewhere. If I had to guess, I would say it was from somewhere in the far east. It is not uncommon for such a gift to be sent by someone looking to curry favor or an artist looking for future commissions. It wasn't an inexpensive gift, gaudy though it was. I would be interested if you do find any information on who sent the locket, though I fear this is a red herring."
Neeshka almost jumped out of her seat again. "I remember now! At her knighting, one of the ambassadors down below the gallery was wearing a brooch with the same kind of scrollwork. It caught my eye; it had a big ruby worth at least a hundred gold in the center!" She toyed with her tail in thought. "He had golden brown skin and black eyes. I remember...I could tell he was bald under the really big hat he was wearing with a peacock feather in it, if that means anything. The woman with him was bald too under a silk veil. I would recognize them if I saw them again. I never forget a mark." She shrugged sheepishly at the look Nevalle gave her.
Grobnar set his bowl of oatmeal aside. "Sounds like Thayans. In their culture only slaves and children keep their hair, but they wear elaborate hats and veils outside of Thay. But we have no proof the Thayan embassy sent it or that the locket is involved with the Captain's abduction. Why would they want her? I could see taking the sword, but why her?" But then he remembered the shard in her chest, and looking around, he could see the others did too.
Khelgar had been pacing the floor while they debated before taking a deep, calming breath and sitting on the floor before the dais and willing himself into a trance. He opened his eyes once he had grounded himself and startled everyone when he bellowed, "Enough jabberin'. What we need is a plan. Are we to head back through that portal now?"
Aldanon shook his head. "No chance of that, I'm afraid. The spell is about to end, and it cannot be cast again until tomorrow. Umm, I...forgot to mention that when you all left." Sand glared at him like he still wanted to strangle him, but the ancient sage had the good grace to look chagrined.
Khelgar took control of the discussion again. "Then do we go to Neverwinter and get more help, or we go back to help with the recovery efforts? Or do we wait until tomorrow and use Aldanon's spell and get there faster?"
Nevalle grimaced at the thought of Casavir lying under the rubble. "Yes, we can't leave them out there. It would be better if someone who was at the Illefarn structure when it collapsed helped direct the search party."
"Then I'm goin' with the riders! I'll take 'Lanie's badger along with me too so he can let me know if he feels her near," Khelgar boomed, flipping to his feet with astonishing speed and grace and grabbing a flask of water and a handful of apples and breakfast rolls from the table for the trip. "Aldanon and his assistants will work on the tome here until such a time as it can be retrieved by its rightful owners. Sand, you should go to Neverwinter to talk to the mages, and Sir Nevalle, you should tell Lord Nasher what happened. Someone should talk to the High Justicar while yer there and see if he or the temple of Tyr can help too. He seemed to have grown fond of the Captain after the trial. Fiendling, you go with them and search out the thieves' guilds and see if you can learn anythin' there. And Grobby should spread the word with the Harpers. Don't give me that look, gnome, we all know yer a master Harper."
Everyone paused gaping in surprise that Khelgar was taking charge. But no one else had so far, and his orders made perfect sense. Kana was secretly relieved as she was a born administrator but definitely not a leader, and she was afraid that the myriad decisions that needed to be made would fall to her, or worse, that she would have to serve as lieutenant to Sir Nevalle, whom she despised.
Nevalle nodded curtly. "Very well then. But this Keep must have a captain. Therefore by the authority granted to me as chief of the Nine, I also appoint you, Khelgar Ironfist, as interim Captain until such time as Captain Farlong is found or Lord Nasher appoints another in her stead. You may assume command when you return from the Mere. Kana, send for one more horse. Sand, how soon will your party be ready to depart for Neverwinter?"
"I always have a spare travel bag and scroll case ready. I shall only require a few minutes while you see to our horses." He cast a Clean cantrip, though it did nothing for the tangles in his hair. He remedied that with another cantrip. Neeshka and Grobnar declared that they were ready too after Grobnar's apprentice brought Grobnar a mandolin to replace the one broken at the ruin.
Aldanon's thin voice broke in. "Why don't you the four of you Teleport? Here, you can use my ring. I've kept it around as a contingency in case I'm invited somewhere like this Keep against my will again." Aldanon fumbled deeply inside his robe until he produced the ring.
Sand tried not to think where the sage might have concealed it. He let Nevalle take the ring and went off to fetch his travel bag after reluctantly returning Jaral to the loving attention of the Sharessans at the festhall.
Kana saw Sir Nevalle's party off. She even got Khelgar to use his new authority to sign a few requisitions while the horse was being brought around. There was a commotion at the stables as they walked that way, and she and Khelgar strode over to see what was wrong. As they turned the corner, Thunder burst out of the stable door, three stable hands chasing after him, but to no avail. The pounding of his hooves as he ran out the open gate lived up to his name. The horse was simply too fast, and too determined to find his paladin as he sprinted through the open main gate.
Another stable hand brought horses for the Greycloak messengers and Khelgar, who shook his head at the offer of a leg up and sprang forward, his right foot lightly touching the stirrup of the tall folk's horse. He used the leverage to spring again into the saddle to the astonishment of the Greycloak messengers. Kana handed him Naloth, who had been placed in a travel basket. He settled the basket in front of him, grabbed the reins and looked down and whistled. "Sure is a long way down. Let's be off."
They came in view of the dust of Katriona's squad in no time. She was walking with the Ironfists, traveling at the pace of the wagons, pleased that the dwarves were having no problem with keeping up. She walked beside the Ironfist sergeant Khalia, who had led her own squad beside Katriona's cleaning up the remaining undead around Crossroad Keep. Their squads would arrive a full day and a half behind Bevil's. They engaged in girl-talk as they walked, strengthening their budding friendship.
Khalia shifted her axe from her left shoulder to her right and looked up at Katriona. "Must be hard on yer bein' seperated from yer husband, and yer bein' so new married."
Katriona smiled. "Things will settle down now...we haven't made up our minds what we're doing after..." She drifted off for a moment, trying not to think about what they might find in the Mere. "We've talked about going home to his village, but there'll be painful memories there for him. But I don't have anything to go back for in my home village either, now that my parents are gone. What's strange is we were both thinking how much we like being in the 'Cloaks, but we hadn't told one another until last night. So we might stay another year or so until we can train some new soldiers. What about you? I bet you can't wait to get back to your clanhold."
Khalia grunted. "Aye, we've much work to do when we return in restorin' it to its former glory. 'Tis been a good year tho' with the artifacts of our clan restored to us and the lower levels discovered. And Khelgar is restored to the Ironfists as well."
Katriona said softly, "We'll find them alive, I feel it."
Khalia nodded in agreement. "Aye, and then I'll be marryin' up with Khelgar next year."
Katriona grinned at her. "Congratulations. I didn't know you two were betrothed."
Khalia grinned back slyly. "We're not—yet. Haven't even courted proper. I only decided last tenday that he would do. S'pose I should tell him next, but I've made up my mind."
Katriona's well-honed warrior instinct allowed her to hear the sound of the horses' hooves behind them before they could see the horses coming. She shouted for her squad to halt. Khalia Ironfist strained to see down the road as young Kerrin Ironfist lay with his ear to the ground for a few minutes then announced, "Sounds like four horses, and they're bein' rode hard."
Katriona ordered her squad into a defensive formation along with the Ironfists. As the horses came within view, she recognized the ebony horse that had a significant lead on the others as Casavir's, but riderless. The frantic horse sped past them without stopping as two Greycloaks jumped aside, and indeed he might have run over anyone who got in his way. The horses with riders got near enough that Katriona could make out their gray cloaks. She shouted for her squad and the Ironfists to stand down.
As they drew near, one of the Ironfists spotted a dwarf with a familiar bald head on the lead horse and shouted, "Look there! 'Tis Khelgar, or I'm a kobold's uncle!"
Khalia Ironfist stretched up on her toes to see and gave a little squeaky gasp of excited recognition but quickly recovered her dour demeanor, not that the other dwarves missed it and gave each other knowing looks. Such was the way of courtship among the dwarves. She put her hands on her hips and scolded as he reined his horse, "Well met, Khelgar. We're on our way to rescue you and yer friends. Could ye not have come back a few hours ago and saved us the miles of walkin'?"
Khelgar flushed crimson at the good natured jibe, his face split by a huge grin as he met the eyes of the flame-haired lass. "Aye Khalia, but 'tis a fine mornin' for a walk and the sun's lightin' up yer silky braids like a torch." They both blushed crimson as a few of the Ironfists nudged one another and whispered too loudly about a royal wedding. He set the badger ahead of his pommel and flipped out of the saddle with a somersault to land right before her. Then Khelgar grew serious as he remembered his mission. "But I have brought grim news." One of the Greycloaks also dismounted to hand over Kana's missive while the other continued on to find Bevil's squad, blowing a signal horn every half a mile to get their attention since they were traveling overland.
After reading the missive from Kana, which concluded with a hastily scrawled note indicating that Khelgar had been appointed acting Captain (she read that part twice to be sure), they decided to continue on to the Mere, though the Greycloaks were disheartened that they were now on a mission to find the fallen rather than to look for survivors. Khelgar asked The Ironfists to go along, and they reached an loud, immediate consensus that the 'hoomuns' would be lost without their help in completing a successful excavation.
Casavir gasped as the air was knocked out of him and blinked at the sudden light as he passed through the rock and was dropped roughly on the ground. He tried to gulp in the fresh air, but breathing was painful and difficult. He couldn't see very clearly, but the woman who had rescued him was a stranger.
The mage waved her arms above her head to end her spell, glad to be solid again. She bent over the tall, dark haired man, still as death, yet still somehow clinging to life. "How delicious. This is the paladin. He's very handsome, isn't he? Such a waste of a tasty hunk of manflesh." She reached out her hand to stroke his cheek with her manicured fingertips. "I don't believe it will be long at all before Captain Farlong hands herself over in exchange for his life. Isn't that right, handsome?" She leaned down and gave Casavir a passionate kiss on the lips then laughed as he struggled weakly away from her. "Amazing. He's very much alive. Quickly, Ragnar, subdue him! Then we can question him about his lover's whereabouts."
Ragnar watched the wraiths summoned by the priest nervously and joined her beside Casavir. "He breathes, but raggedly. He's not gonna be any trouble to us. Are we sure these are all there is to be found?" He over at the still and bloody form in leather armor and the charred remains of what must have been some sort of spellcaster, female he guessed judging from the size of her corpse.
The thin, dark haired man in the gray robe listened closely to a wraith which hovered near him. "The place is full of corpses, but most have been here for some time. These two were the only living inside the building, and the cinder there is the only fresh corpse. Freshly charred, that is. My pets are quite sure."
He knelt beside the ranger and shook his head at the extent of his injuries. Then he pressed his thumb into a wound on Bishop's shoulder, smiling tightly at the spasm of pain that provoked. "Blessed Lady of Pain, this one is alive too. I almost pity him with what Braden has planned for him."
Ragnar shrugged. "That's what he gets for not making sure all his squad was dead." Bishop, hovering on the edge of consciousness because of the pain, summoned all the strength he had to spit in the priest's face. The man laughed and covered Bishop's nose and mouth with his hand to cut off his breathing and watched him flail weakly before he let go lest he kill him.
The woman in leather returned from scouting, looking worried. "There's no one about at all, and no other entrances. I saw a wolf that acts like it's watching us though. Didn't this ranger travel with one?" No one answered her, but she was used to that by now. She looked around nervously, still looking for a way out, not satisfied that their employers would be content with these they found when they returned without the tome. She cursed herself silently for being a fool, too afraid to strike out alone into the Mere of Dead Men and make her escape, but Ragnar had insisted she leave her pack behind when she left to scout. She cursed herself again silently for a fool for not leaving without it anyway. She was armed and knew enough that she could survive until she reached the villages outside Waterdeep. "Won't be long before the other Neverwintans come back with help." She cursed herself for the nervous pitch to her voice.
Glyden stood smoothing her thin red silk gown and cast her a glance barely acknowledging her presence. "We should depart at once now we're certain there's nothing more to be found. The cinder is fine, but these big strapping men pose a problem—they are going to exceed the limits of my spell." While she spoke, Ragnar slipped up silently beside the woman in leather and stuck a dirk into her back and gave it a twist up. He followed up by snapping her neck. Glyden scowled at him as he shoved her body aside. "What did you do that for? We might yet need her before we reach Highcliff!"
He said self-importantly, "She was getting twitchy eyes, not that you noticed. But it's my job to notice. Besides, we shouldn't need her after this, and this helps with your weight problem."
The cleric of Loviathar cast a Hold Person spell then knelt beside Casavir and slapped his face sharply to test it. He asked quietly, "Where's your woman, hmm? Left you here to rot, has she?" He slapped him again for no particular reason.
Casavir groaned and whispered, "Tyr," which only prompted another, sharper slap.
Ragnar returned from dragging their former accomplice's body behind a bush. "He's a paladin. He'll take a lot of work to make him break."
The cleric of Loviathar said impassively, "Indeed, we can only hope. For now, we should subdue these two before the spell wears off. Might I suggest binding them together? They're supposed to despise each other."
Glyden had a sudden inspiration. "By all means, do it. And they'll fit into my magic bag, I think. That will solve the problem of weight, though they will likely suffocate before we reach the ship at Highcliff. Ah well, one can't have everything."
Ragnar gave her a look of profound respect as he took a length of rope out of his pack. "Brilliant idea, my sweet. It should be nothing for Amalter to raise them when we arrive in Luskan. What about Cinder?"
She adjusted the belt on her skimpy gown and watched as the men bound Casavir to Bishop face-to-face. Bishop struggled and managed to utter a filthy curse that made the men laugh. "She's not going into my bag to get it all sooty and greasy. Do we even need her? He father didn't seem to care if he ever saw her again, and she has no other family. She's your typical spoiled wittle princess whose daddy gave her everything but wuv." She sneered with disgust as she mocked her. "Our intelligence says that she was utterly friendless at Crossroad Keep as well. My mother had spoken before her own untimely death of recruiting her instead of killing her according to her contract, but other wiser heads in the Hosttower felt she would be too difficult to control. They felt the girl was powerful but had no discipline."
Ragnar worked with the priest to maneuver Bishop and Casavir into the bag, which stretched when activated to accommodate their burden like a snake swallowing its prey. Within a few minutes they had accomplished their grim task, and he handed the bag back to Glyden, who put it back on her belt. He nodded at Qara's corpse. "Sure you don't want Cinder? I could wrap her bits up in my cloak." He went ahead and did so while she thought about it. But Glyden shook her head after a few minutes, so he carried the sorceress's corpse over to rest beside their unfortunate thief.
Glyden withdrew her scroll case from her bag, muttering about getting holy cooties in her bag from the paladin. She thumbed through until she found the scroll to open the portal to their camp.
They were unaware of a pair of amber eyes watching their every move. His broken leg had slowed him until he got his balance, but that wouldn't stop him from getting close to his bonded. He still had three legs. He crept closer and closer, ignoring the pain, and tried to make sense of his bonded and the tall one vanishing into the little bag. Now he watched, trying to decide if he could get close enough to grab that bag and run then rend it with his teeth until his bonded came back.
Then the female started moving her arms and making human noises, and the air around her shimmered until a dark entrance to a cave appeared, its edges shiny. He had passed through those before. He didn't like traveling through those. The lights and the colors and the roaring in his ears always made him feel sick after. But he wasn't going to let them take his bonded away. He watched them, creeping closer and ignoring the pain from his leg. As soon as they stepped through, he sprang, his teeth just catching the hem of the male wearing the long robe.