Chapter 48 Leaving No Stone Unturned

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 chapter. Reviews, questions, and concrit always appreciated.

Neverwinter:

Sand glided swiftly across the Dolphin Bridge. The city was still nearly deserted except for Lord Nasher and his highest level advisors, much of the Greycloak Militia, a skeleton force of the Watch who hadn't gone along to police the city's evacuees in Port Llast and beyond, and those whom Lord Nasher had euphemistically referred to as "The dregs of the Docks," people too destitute and downtrodden to care about their impending doom. Bands of thugs had strolled through the city streets with impunity, but the militia and the Watch were beginning to engage them to restore order. Rather than have to explain himself at the checkpoints and guard posts or have to explain why he blasted a pack of thugs into a pile of smoking cinders, he had cast Invisibility and Silence spells on himself before he left Castle Never.

He reached his shop and looked around to assure himself that he was alone and that his wards had not been tampered with. Glancing at Duncan's boarded-up tavern across the street, he was overcome with feelings of nostalgia remembering the many sharply barbed verbal duels he had held with Duncan over the past few years. Duncan no doubt was already pressing the authorities in Port Llast to allow him to return and see to his business as word of the King of Shadows' defeat must have reached them by now. Anyone with a legitimate trade or business would be the first allowed to return to help restore a sense of normality to the city, and to get coin flowing into the city's coffers again. At the same time, Sand was relieved that he hadn't yet returned, and so he was spared delivering the news to Duncan about his foster niece.

He wouldn't put it past Duncan to have holed up in his cellar or attic rather than leave his beloved tavern. It was tempting to go see, but he had things to do. He sighed softly and deactivated the wards on his door and walked in, quickly closing the door behind him before its opening was noticed. Nothing was amiss in the shop, but he inspected it twice to be certain and then examined the golem standing in the corner. He had deactivated the clay golem that he had purchased to tend the shop after the word for the evacuation was given, but if anyone had managed to get in past his wards, it would have reactivated and dealt with him or her severely.

He barred the door then entered his small apartment in the back, concealed behind his work area. He moved aside a screen and twisted the valves that controlled the flow of hot and cold water into an elegant deep marble tub, adjusting them to his liking. He placed the golden headband that he had enchanted on the bedside table, remembering wistfully the beljuril the dear girl had traded him nearly two years ago that he had used to enchant it. He removed his boots and socks and stripped off his robe and his small clothes, thankful that the magic containing the fire elementals in the city reservoir still held.

The water was instantly invigorating as he stepped into the tub, and he couldn't resist a deep groan as he sat then slid in up to his neck. There was even some of his favorite sandalwood soap left. He had been out of it for tendays at the Keep. He held it to his nose and inhaled its scent deeply before he soaped himself off. He washed his long silky black hair and ducked his head under the water to rinse it, then sat back in the tub and closed his eyes.

But he reminded himself he had little time for such self-indulgence. It was nearly time for his appointment at the the Tyrran temple. He reluctantly stepped out and toweled off his lithe body and pulled an iridescent pigeon gray robe out of his bag. He couldn't recall where they had found it in their travels, but it had become part of his share of the spoils. It was as highly enchanted as the emerald robe he had worn to face the King of Shadows, but he preferred that one as he had crafted himself. But the gray would do for now. It didn't matter that he had cast a cantrip to clean his other robe. It still didn't feel clean, and he wondered if it ever would again. He dressed, looked himself over in the mirror and nodded in satisfaction then recast his concealment spells and stepped outside and recast the wards securing his shop.

No one was around to notice his leaving, but he waited across the street for a few minutes anyway. He was to join the others at the Moonstone Mask later. Grobnar was already there speaking with Ophala so she could spread the word of the abduction of one of their own through her Harper contacts. Neeshka was seeking out her own contacts in the various thieves' guilds. Sand was to head to the temple of Tyr to seek an audience with the High Justicar. He knew from Neeshka's snooping that Dee believed he might be her birth father, but they weren't sure whether that was something he would publicly acknowledge, or if it would make him more or less inclined to help.

Nevalle was to join them at the Mask to tell them what Lord Nasher had decided to do. But during the brief time he allowed them for an audience when they arrived, he reluctantly stated that the city had precious few resources to spare to search for very long for one missing knight, even one who had helped save the city. Sand mused that if Nevalle could get him alone for ten minutes, however, he might ease his lord's tension enough to make him more amenable.

While Sand headed to his shop, Neeshka also took advantage of her Ring of Invisibility and made her way through the familiar streets and alleys of the Merchant Quarter for much the same reason as Sand had, though she relied on her own stealth rather than a spell to slip silently through the city. She had learned that Axle had left for safer ground along with his closest lieutenants a few tendays ago, but Neeshka found enough of her old contacts still in the city to arrange a meeting with Berger, who was supposed to be looking out for Axle's interests during his absence. She remembered him, but not fondly. He had also been part of Leldon's gang back when she was his child-apprentice and lover, and he had been outspoken about his jealousy because of her closeness to Leldon and the favors it gained her. A bribe of a gold crown was enough to get her contact to arrange a meeting with him at Axle's estate. She arrived early, scouted out the house, and marked the exits should things get ugly.

She looked around before she deactivated the ring, stepped out of the shadows, and rapped sharply four times on the door. It opened almost immediately, as if they knew she was there despite being invisible, and a small, thin, dark-haired woman with a black eye gestured her in and led her through the house to a comfortable wood-paneled study in the back. Berger sat behind Axle's teakwood desk in a chair upholstered in fine Amnian leather and gave Neeshka the once-over as she walked in. The years had not been kind to him. He was older, scarred, had thickened greatly in the middle, and his sandy hair was considerably thinner and streaked with gray. Neeshka took notice of the two brawny leather-clad thugs lounging casually against the walls on either side of the door without appearing to notice either of them. But it was part of the game. She knew they sized her up immediately too.

Berger took a deep drink of a ruby red liquor from a crystal goblet before he spoke. Neeshka wondered as she watched him drink (and not offer any to her) if Axle would appreciate him breaking into the good stuff while he was gone. "Haven't seen you in a while, Horn Head. Hear you got yourself a real sweet gig now out in the sticks."

Neeshka shrugged. "Yeah, I'm using my skills in a way that benefits others." She ignored eye rolls and derisive snorts from everyone in the room and tried not to sound defensive. "There was no more challenge here. Anyway, it's safer to go legit―other than when we're fighting undead and ancient Illefarn demigods. But the pickings are great!"

He apprised her, taking in her body language, her gleaming silver rapier and dagger, and her well-made leathers. "I assume there's a reason why you're back now? You must need something from us."

"We need information, and I'm authorized to pay well for it. Either gold, gems, or in trade for some enchantment work done by the Keep's archmage." She leaned forward as his eyes lit up at that promise. She quickly explained what had happened then added, "What we want to find out most of all is who still has contracts out on the Knight Captain. But I'm thinkin' this seems like too much work to go through just to collect a bounty, unless she was wanted alive so someone could have fun with her before they killed her. We think a jewel-encrusted locket that was given her as a gift might have been used to scry her, so they would know when to grab her. I need information on the artist who painted it, and who paid for it." She gave him the name from Kana's records and sat back, toying with the tip of her tail.

He crossed his arms across his chest and said smugly, "Have you considered that she might have been snatched for ransom?"

That hadn't occurred to Neeshka, but she dismissed it with a sharp shake of her head. "No, because no demand has been made, and isn't that the point? Yeah, I know it's only been a couple of days, but I don't think so. First off, her husband is a paladin of Tyr with no money of his own. You know Lord Nasher refuses to pay ransoms for his knights. Her mother is dead, and there's no telling who her father is. So no, I don't think ransom could be the motive. We're thinking either bounty, revenge, or someone took her for her Githyanki sword. Or all three. And all we want is information on contracts, like I said, or anyone who might have been seeking information on her. And whatever you can dig up on this artist. The locket may be Thayan. I don't know if they have anything to do with this though."

He sat back and rubbed his stubble-covered chin as he listened. "Thayans? You won't have any luck there. Their ambassadors left with all the rest of Embassy Row, and none of them left so much as a dust ball behind. Lots of nasty traps set to guard nothing though. I lost two of my crew that way. I suppose you'll only pay according to what we can learn? What if the trail is cold?" He added gruffly, "I want a firm guarantee of payment for our efforts."

Neeshka casually reached into a pocket on her leather jerkin and withdrew a ruby and smiled slyly at him as she held it enticingly towards him in her hand. "Naturally. Consider this a down payment. Now if you're interested in a fire enchantment..."

She reactivated her ring a few minutes later and left with a spring in her step and with Berger's favorite rapier on her back, having arranged to return in a day's time for her information. She wasn't surprised at all that he wanted it enchanted to enhance its keenness, and the promise that Sand could do it tonight would be enough incentive to ensure their cooperation.

Meanwhile, Sand was ushered in to the High Justicar's private office to wait until he finished an emergency hearing. He was warned that the High Justicar had only time for a short meeting. Fortunately he was still in the city because he had refused to evacuate, arguing that his skill as a priest made him an asset despite his age, and that justice must still be dispensed. The waiting was frustrating as Sand thought about what else he could be doing.

Judge Oleff entered, congratulated Sand on their victory, and apologized for the lack of refreshments, explaining that the cooks and household staff had not yet returned, and so they were at the mercy of their acolytes. He poured them both a goblet of a sweet white wine and sat at his desk. "Now what is this my assistant said about Lady Farlong's disappearance?"

Sand grimly explained what had happened in the Mere, including Casavir's and Zhjaeve's probable deaths and Dee's abduction, watching his face for a reaction as he did so and noting with sad satisfaction the pain in his eyes and the way the old man's hands gripped the arms of his chair as he listened. They had an ally here. Sand opened his magic bag and produced the farewell letter she had written him, explaining she had left it for him in her "in case of death" pile. He handed it over. "Lord Nasher can't or won't use his resources to search for very long. We're not sure what help the temple can offer, but all our efforts may be pointless anyway. Whoever opened that portal could have taken her anywhere, assuming she still lives. She might not even be on Toril."

Judge Oleff dabbed at his eyes before he met Sand's, and his voice wavered as he finally spoke. "Our spells, resources, and prayers are at your disposal. There is a communion ritual that we will perform that can reveal whether Lady Farlong is...alive. It will take time to arrange, however. You don't know how sorry I am." He struggled to compose himself, and Sand felt on the verge of tears as well and thanked Mystra silently again that Duncan was gone. Being the bearer of bad news was not his forte. Yet he found himself reaching across the small table and putting his hand over the Justicar's.

After a few minutes Oleff continued. "When young Casavir's body has been recovered, I shall perform the ritual to resurrect him myself, provided that his spirit wishes to return. Unfortunately for those left behind, sometimes the spirit is quite content where it is. As far as the Githzerai, I know someone at Oghma's temple who can contact her people and tell us their wishes."

Sand stood and bowed gracefully. "Thank you, Your Honor. A recovery crew has been dispatched from the Keep, but it may be a tenday or longer before they can return with the...remains of our comrades. We shall return to the Keep within the next few days if there is nothing further that can be done here. Sir Nevalle has invited us to stay at his family's estate while we're in the city. And I of course will let you know at once if we hear anything."

The Justicar bowed in return. "We will send word there if we learn anything as well. May Tyr guide you and help Lady Farlong."

Sand walked by the shrine to Mystra and made his own prayers and left an offering before he went to the Moonstone Mask. The sound of Grobnar's lute greeted him as he opened the door. The festhall was surprisingly busy, but not with the usual Blacklake clientèle. Many of the people here had been sent from Waterdeep by the Lords' Alliance to help defend Neverwinter, only to discover that the battle was over before it began. Thus they were at loose ends while they waited for ships to take them home.

Ophala glided over, took Sand's hands, and kissed him lightly on both cheeks, and they exchanged the customary pleasantries. "Come upstairs. I've managed to set aside a room for your party's use while you're here. Neeshka arrived just ahead of you and has gone up, and Grobnar has filled me in on what happened. I've already dispatched an agent with the information to the Harper house in Silverymoon, and they will see to sending on the notice from there. Vale will join us shortly to discuss divination spells." She patted his shoulder. "But I don't have to tell you that it won't be easy to find her, or that we must do so quickly."

Elsewhere on the Sword Coast:

Wolf tensed at a sudden loud popping sound, something that was definitely not natural and out of place in this forest clearing. He leaned against the trunk of the tree he sat in and raised his spyglass, peering carefully around the Luskan camp until he spied the tell-tale small circle of light, about the size of a copper piece. He twice made the shrill whistle of the mountain redwing (one of the few bird calls he could do really well) to get Zeta's attention, who was watching the camp from the shadows. Her job was to alert the others while he watched the Luskans.

The circle spread slowly until it was large enough for a man to walk through. A few minutes later the mage in the red gown stepped through, followed by the big man and the man in the gray robe. Something gray and furred, a canine of some sort judging by its shape, came through with him. Its teeth appeared to be sunk into his robe. The man cursed as he realized this, and Wolf bit back a gasp of shock as he recognized the familiar form of Karnwyr. He assumed Bishop would be right behind and would step through next, but then the woman dispelled the portal. He tried to make sense of it, but he was relieved that they hadn't brought back any prisoners. He observed that the fourth Luskan, the woman in leather, wasn't with them either, but he didn't have time to think about that because Karnwyr lunged into the back of the man in gray's knees, knocking him face-first into the ground. Karnwyr yelped loudly as he fell onto his right side.

Wolf watched as Karnwyr released his hold on the man's robe and struggled to his feet, holding up his right rear leg, which looked broken. He flattened his ears and snarled, but at the woman rather than at the man. It was very puzzling to Wolf. The man in gray calmly stood, grabbed his flail, and lashed at Karnwyr striking him across the back and yelling at him to get lost. Karnwyr howled in pain, but he was undeterred and lunged at the woman. Strangest of all to Wolf was that he was acting like he was trying to get one of her belt pouches rather than sink his teeth into her amply exposed flesh. She didn't seem concerned. She laughed melodically and sidestepped the injured wolf's lunge then began swirling her right hand and chanting words of magic.

At that Wolf impulsively raised his bow to stop her spell, praying he was in range for a killing shot, and not even debating the morality of killing someone who hadn't attacked him first. He wasn't thinking of anything beyond saving Karnwyr. He cursed himself as he realized then that he had allowed the big man to get out of his sight, and he hoped Zeta was more observant. Or that the others had gotten close enough to fight with them. It occurred to him that if he could let Karnwyr know there were friends about, he might give up his attack and run off to safety. Then he could try to heal him and figure out how to communicate with him to find out what was so interesting about that pouch. He pursed his lips and made a long low whistle that sounded somewhat like a raven. It would not have deceived anyone familiar with the woods, but Karnwyr had heard him practice it enough.

His heart was in his throat as he realized the mage looked like she was about to complete her spell as she brought her arm up and pointed at the wolf. It was now or never. He aimed for the center of her chest and loosed his arrow, knowing he wouldn't kill her from this range unless the goddess blessed his shot, and that he probably would have time for only one more shot before they were on him.

The campsite was suddenly enveloped in impenetrable darkness, and a heartbeat later he heard the woman scream as his arrow struck home. Wolf had just drawn another arrow and fitted it to his bow. He tried in vain to see anything through the inky blackness. His first thought was that either the mage or the man in gray had cast the spell, but from the shouting coming from the Luskan camp, they were as surprised as he was. He then decided to his relief that either Mignon or Leather was close enough to have done it. But the Luskans would retaliate once the initial shock wore off. He whistled again, this time copying a familiar whistle that Bishop often used to call his companion that he was sure Karnwyr would recognize. He smiled as he heard the wolf bark in recognition. Swinging to a lower branch then scampering down the tree like a squirrel despite the darkness, he prayed to Meilikki he hadn't given himself away and wasn't going right into the Luskan's clutches.

Before he reached the ground, he heard a familiar whine and felt the wolf brush his leg. A few heartbeats later, Zeta hissed, "Come on! Grab the mutt and let's get the hells out of here before they dispel it!"

She didn't have to tell him twice. He put his bow on his back and picked up the wolf and followed the sound of her voice. He whispered, "How the hells can you see? I'm lost!" He adjusted the wolf's weight as she put a hand on his shoulder to guide him. She led them on quickly to the edge of the darkness, nimbly jumping over a log he nearly tripped over. He could hear the curses that told him the Luskans were coming after them.

And then the darkness faded as suddenly as it appeared. Zeta cursed under her breath. "Cyric's taint, they dispelled it! Move before they see us!"

They ran towards where the others were waiting for them, Wolf struggling to run with Karnwyr in his arms. Karnwyr tried to get out of his grasp and whined, looking back towards the Luskan's camp while Wolf tried to calm him. Zeta whistled as she spotted Hiram lumbering towards them. Mignon stepped out from behind a tree to cast a spell that called up a wind to erase their tracks as Leather ran to intercept them, his flail at the ready. They took up defensive positions behind trees and watched for pursuit. There was no time for questions.

Wolf ran around a large rock outcropping and lay Karnwyr gently on the ground. "Sure wish I could understand what you wanted from that mage, boy." He knelt beside the wolf, who tried to get up, seeming to be determined to run back to renew his attack on the Luskans.

Zeta grinned. "I saw that he wanted one of her belt pouches, so I pinched it in the dark." She produced the pouch from inside her jerkin, where she had stuck it after she snatched it from the mage's belt. "Here it is, boy. Don't know what's so special about it though."

Karnwyr snapped at the pouch. Wolf held him down. "Calm down, boy. Let us fix your leg and then you can have it, alright?" Karnwyr whimpered, but the boy's calming voice soothed him. Wolf felt the leg and Karnwyr yelped in pain. "At least it feels straight." Wolf gave it a gentle pull to make sure it was aligned then closed his eyes and prayed for Meilikki's healing grace as Zeta watched. He sat back, and Karnwyr stretched his leg and stood on it gingerly.

Karnwyr licked Wolf's face as the boy hugged him and nuzzled Zeta before he took the pouch carefully in his mouth and lay down with it between his paws. He barked at it then looked up at them. Wolf hushed him, trying to communicate their danger. "We'll get somewhere safe and figure it out." He looked over and narrowed his eyes at Zeta. "But..."

She replied coyly, "What?" But he could tell from the way she looked away as well as the set of her shoulders, she knew very well 'what.'

He pressed her. "If the Luskans didn't cast that spell, and it wasn't Min or Leather, and it wasn't me, and it sure as hells wasn't Karnwyr, how did you do it?"

She looked at the ground as she bent down and toyed with the drawstring on the pouch, a touch of pleading in her voice. "Can't a girl have some secrets?" She tried to change the subject. "Wonder what's in here? Ooh, I bet it's one of those magic bags! Should we dump it out and see if they have something of the ranger's? But Neeshka told me she just had to think about that she wanted in her bag and it would rise to the opening." She closed her eyes and willed that whatever belong to the wolf or the ranger rise as she opened the bag. She upended it and shook it out and a few heartbeats later shouted, "What the..."

Wolf gasped as he turned to see what was wrong but didn't get a chance to reply as a searing ball of fire erupted all around them, licking up the dead vegetation and spreading to the trees.

Elanee flew as fast as her wings would take her, having chosen her form of a mountain swift well. She was unaware that her companions, those who survived anyway, had returned safely to Crossroads Keep and had long since left on their own missions. She prayed as she flew that the tailwind that had been with her wouldn't fail her. She knew she would have to stop and rest soon and look for enough food to sustain her, for a bird required its own weight in food to maintain its energy.

Fortunately she was bound by neither trails nor by roads, cutting her journey by more than half, and with the winds, she would arrive at the Keep in the morning. The fastest path was a direct line over open country only occasionally flying near enough to the road to see it. She kept a wary eye out for the shadows of raptors out to make a quick meal of her, but she hadn't seen anything alive anywhere along her flight. Even the trees were bare, having lost their leaves as the shadows spread from the Mere. That vast emptiness made her heart ache, but she had faith that there would be a time for regrowth, as surely as spring would follow winter. And she vowed she would be a part of that regrowth and restoration.

Just when she was getting used to the loneliness, she caught sight of movement far below her. She banked and flew closer to take a look. In the distance she could make out the glint of sunlight on armed men and women on horseback in distinctive gray cloaks heading towards the Mere. She circled around and caught a momentary glimpse of shadow of someone passing ahead of the main force. She turned again, caught the draft, and followed. She saw nothing for several minutes and was beginning to think she had been mistaken and had banked to catch up with the Greycloaks when she caught sight of a shape flowing against brown earth. She went into a dive, catching the wind currents so she could overtake the shape, and her giddy heart skipped a beat knowing whose it was.

She circled him to be sure and shifted into her elven shape as she landed ahead of him. Daeghun drew up short as the bird circled him and flew past him before landing in a clearing ten feet away. He knew who it was before the bird began to glow and shimmer and shift its form for that of a young elven woman, and his heart felt light despite the grimness of his mission at the sight of her. He called her name, expressed as a long sigh of relief. "Elanee..." He rushed to close the gap between them and took her hands to draw her near as her transformation ended. In the distance they heard a horn blowing a pattern of two short notes and one long.

She smiled at him and spoke gently in their native elven dialect. "Daeghun. I'm so happy I spotted you. Thank Silvanus." She looked over in the direction of the horn then looked back at him. "The temple collapsed, and when we found a way out, the others sent me to fly to the Keep to get help. They were going to follow on foot..."

He hadn't let go of her hands, not that she was complaining, because she hadn't let go of his either. He interrupted her. "When we saw the gloom clear and the undead begin to fall, we knew you had succeeded, but when you did not return that day, we feared the worst and set out in search of you."

"We must get back immediately. Oh Daegun, something terrible has happened..." She hesitated before she blurted out the news of their dead and of Dee's abduction. They both turned their heads as they were interrupted by the sound of the horn again, closer this time, which was immediately answered my a much closer horn blaring the same note pattern. "That must be a messenger from the Keep!"

Daeghun's face was a mask of calm, but his eyes betrayed his pain. "That means there is news, and they've sent someone to intercept us. They might have found my daughter! Can you go on, or do you need to rest?"

She gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm was very tired, but not now. Come, let us hurry." But as they turned to rejoin the Greycloaks, they saw a ball of fire shoot up above some trees then engulf them. It looked to be a few miles away.

Elanee cried out in horror then frowned darkly as they watched the fire leaping from tree to tree. Daeghun instinctively pulled her to his chest to comfort her. She pulled away and looked up at him. "Forgive me, but I have to stop this fire, and then someone is going to pay for it!" She shifted into the form of a horse at once, and without hesitating, Daeghun grabbed her mane and gracefully leaped onto her back.

He leaned forward towards her ear as she turned and ran towards the fire. "Let us go quickly, Elanee. I can't explain it, but I have a feeling that we're needed there."

Thunder walked slowly in a circle, trying to sense the direction of his bonded again. He pawed the ground and tossed his mane in frustration. He had seen an image of his bonded in pain and in danger, and it caused him to knock down a door and escape from his stall. But the vision that had led him deep into the woods disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. Yet he didn't sense that the bond the maimed one had created between them had been broken by death. He raised his head and whinnied, but nothing replied. He snorted and walked down a hill to slake his thirst in a stream.

He was hungry but the grass here was dead, tainted by the great wrongness that had been and was now gone. He had known the direction though, and he knew he should head that way despite losing contact. He walked up the next hill trying to spot the horse he had run with and then ahead of, whose rider was bellowing to its kin. If he found him and followed them, they might yet lead him to his bonded. As he reached the summit, he was startled by a loud noise and smelled then saw fire in the distance. His natural instinct would have been to run away in panic from the fire. But he perked up his ears as the vision returned. He was back, and Thunder now knew where to find him. He reared up on his hind legs and neighed then sped off towards the fire.

As he felt the spell paralyzing him ending, Casavir, bound face to face with Bishop, struggled to free himself. The ranger was still alive though his breathing was ragged, and Casavir knew that if not for his ring, he would probably be in as bad of shape now. He looked around them through the thick gloom, trying to get a sense of direction from where they floated. He thanked Tyr that gravity did not seem to work the same way in this space as on the Prime. It was almost like moving through water. At the same time he tried not to think about stories he had heard of horrors being stored in these bags. He had read an account while at the temple college of someone who had managed to trap a demi-lich in a magic bag, but that seemed improbable. He had also read accounts of strange creatures which dwelt in them.

And there was light throughout this demi-plane where they had been imprisoned. He looked up; he could see light that way too, though it wavered. If he could somehow make his way up—but what then? And was he sure it was indeed up? And how long would it take? He couldn't even tell how big this place was, and he was losing all sense of time. He twisted and squirmed until he was able to reach a small dagger Dee had made him in a sheath on his belt. He withdrew it, gasping in alarm as it nearly slipped out of his grip.

A few more minutes of squirming, drawing close to Bishop as he did, and he had managed to cut the rope to free his arm. He whispered a prayer of thanks to Tyr as he freed the other, and Bishop fell away from him, though their legs were still bound together. Grabbing him close then putting his hands on Bishop's hips for leverage, he pushed away and up. He smiled in grim satisfaction as they did make some progress, though he couldn't tell how far away the light was.

But Bishop was impeding him. It was tempting to cut him loose, even more tempting when he considered that very soon if they didn't escape he would be bound to a corpse, but if he did he would drift away and be lost here to rot. And moreover, Casavir felt it would be wrong to let him die when it was in his power to save him, though the irony that he was only saving him for the hangman did not escape him. He sighed and tugged on the rope to pull Bishop closer. And since a living ally was better than a dead one, he muttered, "Can you understand me? I'm probably going to regret this, but we have to work together if you want to get away from these people. Otherwise, I fear we're bound for Luskan, alive or dead. Will you cooperate?"

Bishop gasped his reply as he struggled for breath. "Let...me go...only way." He began gulping air into his lungs after that exertion, but he didn't have the strength to draw it in. He had suspected that the people who found them were Luskans, probably after that bounty on her. Wench couldn't even let him die in peace. He wondered if his last thought was going to be to curse her for getting him into this situation, but he knew in his heart that there were enough people in Luskan who wanted him too. He also was no fool, knowing that the gallows was the only thing he had to look forward to without an assurance the paladin would let him go. But even thinking was becoming difficult now, and he heard an odd raspy sound and realized it was coming from himself.

Casavir grimaced. "Very well, I swear it by Tyr. We must get free to save Dee." He pulled Bishop close as he felt his life slipping away and put his mouth over the ranger's and blew gently into his lungs over and over until Bishop seemed to be breathing on his own. He regretfully slipped Dee's ring off his finger and put it on Bishop's. "That's only until you're strong enough to go on. We will have the Luskans to deal with if we find a way out." After waiting a few minutes for the worst of Bishop's injuries to heal, Casavir took his ring back and bound an end of the rope to Bishop's wrist so they wouldn't become separated. He put his hands on Bishop's hips again then lifted and pushed him up as hard as he could, kicking his legs like he was swimming to follow.

They were making progress until the light they had been swimming towards suddenly winked out. They both cursed. Bishop grinned sardonically at the paladin. "Don't worry, I think Tyr understands, your holiness. The Luskan bitch must have closed the bag."

"Perhaps if we reach the top or find a side, we can cut our way out of here." Casavir pushed off him again. They had no sense of how long they had been trapped as they moved, ignoring strange noises coming from within and without the bag. Casavir sang a hymn to Tyr as they moved to bolster his courage, much to Bishop's obvious annoyance.

Bishop tugged on the rope and pointed. "There! The light is back! Must've teleported us back to Luskan."

Casavir nodded. "Be ready. Unfortunately the Luskans relieved me of my sword, but I have this dagger."

Bishop snorted and drew his old hunting knife, which Dee had buried in his back when he fled the Keep. "That's fine if you want to have the Luskans for supper. This is a knife. But I guess yours will do."

The circle of light was markedly larger now. Casavir leaned close and put his arms around Bishop. "Pretend that we are still bound and unconscious so we can gain a small advantage of surprise when they take us out."

Bishop snarled, "Let them haul us into their dungeon? I say we kill everyone we can as fast as we can and make a run for it." Bishop thought he heard something echoing through this space that sounded oddly like Karnwyr's bark. "Is that the mutt?"

They found themselves moving much faster through the light as if someone was willing them to the top of the bag. Casavir whispered, "This is it!"

The light was blinding, and the air was fresh and cool as they flew out and hit the dirt hard. They blinked to adjust, and Bishop was about to swing his knife out to slash the closest Luskan when he was tackled by a bundle of fur that began licking his face. "Mutt?"

Casavir let go of the ranger as his vision cleared, and he made out the face of one of the orphans who worked at the Keep leaning over them, who cursed as she scrambled backwards from him and Bishop wide-eyed in shock. "How did you..." He was unable to finish his question. A heartbeat later they heard an explosion and the trees around them were engulfed in flame.