16 Kythorn

Bandits. Black Talon bandits. Not good. Shar-Teel's wounded.

We marched for most of the night to get up to Larswood, away from the areas with bands of creatures. Shar-Teel killed two giant spiders. Then, Black Talons, in their uniforms. Announcing themselves by shooting arrows of ice. Edwin ran for it. Shar-Teel drew their fire. Her armour blocks most of it, but... I ran around the side, trying to get past trees to come at them from behind. They have better armour than I do. (Too heavy.) Shar-Teel and I made them put down the bows, but they were both much better than me. One of Imoen's arrows got the second one in the end, when I was trying to run away from him.

We had to bandage Shar-Teel with what we had. Tried to rest, for a little while. It was her right arm. Worrying. A deep bruise; her armour stopped the arrow, but the ice still froze her skin. She'd also been hurt with a sword, at her waist. Not deeply, but still bad. Imoen will have to make use of the arrows from their corpses. (More people we've killed. When I bent down to check their quivers, I closed their eyes. One had light brown eyes like my brother, the other baby-blue. Then, of course, there's the—logistical problems—with collecting bounties on bandit scalps. Horrible. Horrible.) I'll have to fight in spite of all this.

Worgs woke us. Could have been worse—could have been vampiric wolves again. Deep tooth-marks in my arm Garrick bandaged for me—my right arm. I can still swing a sword with my left, or so Shar-Teel says. Even grit my teeth enough for my bow. We went up past an old druidic henge—Shar-Teel spat on it—and ran away from bears who chased us after we stumbled across a cub. It's a long, tiring walk to Peldvale, and I hate that we have to do it. We're all exhausted.

We need a useful plan to get past the bandits. We need a safe place to sleep.

—

17 Kythorn

Addition to our doomed band. (Shades of poor Xan.)

"Help me! If you don't help me, he'll kill me!"

The cloaked woman ran out of the clump of trees, barreling into Shar-Teel; a dark-skinned hand showed beneath her sleeve. Human-dark, I thought at first; then I saw clearly, drow-dark.

"He who?" Shar-Teel demanded. "Some vile male?"

"They accuse me when I have done nothing to them!" she panted. "I may wish to, but I am no fool and this iblith has not listened—" She made a sweeping gesture behind her; the Flaming Fist officer stepped through the trees, his sword drawn.

"I serve the Flaming Fist! Do you harbour the drow, travellers? She is evil and wanted for mur...!"

"Farcical Fist. My lucky day!" Before any of the rest of us could say anything, Shar-Teel leaped on the attack. She seemed confident until he hit her right arm; I had to shoot him to help her. She was already hurt, from before...so we had to support her. Viconia is incredibly fast; she ran behind the Flaming Fist and brained him with her mace. It really wasn't pretty, and that was before she took the helmet and parts of the armour to wear for a trophy. We dug a shallow grave because Imoen and I wanted to.

The woman folded her arms impatiently. "My name is Viconia. I am a servant of Shar. Keep me from the accursed sun and I am willing to travel with you."

Shar-Teel nodded. "Surface god. Good. Prove yourself with a healing spell or two." She held out her arm.

"I can do more than healing." Viconia chanted something quickly, her eyes on Edwin, and he collapsed to the ground instantly. I suppose that's quite useful... She did show us her healing powers, too, after Edwin woke up and complained.

Other Flaming Fists will assume the man was killed by bandits, not us. Viconia's offered to help us. She must have been through some tough circumstances for her to be here, and it's only fair to believe in her when there's no evidence we know of otherwise. Of course, Shar-Teel did the exact opposite to the Flaming Fist, just because he was male... Well. I'm not proud of killing someone who might have just been doing his job. But we can't undo it; not easily enough to be convenient, anyway.

Viconia is an interesting person. I think I like her.

There were flinds who tried to stop us, a few hours later, and demanded our iron. It was easier with healing. Shar-Teel and her battlecries for blood, cutting through the centre of them; Viconia petitioning her goddess to force one to lie on the grass, his throat bared for Shar-Teel; Garrick spinning an encouragement with his voice; Edwin and Imoen, slings and arrows. I stabbed from the back; they are big, and then they fall. Bright golden strips across their shoulders and dark blue skin. Giant swords I didn't quite avoid. Viconia: we need you.

It started to rain. I want a bath with clean water, a warm drink, something other than sitting on wet ground not daring to light a fire in case of bandits. The trees are hardly any shelter at all, and it is getting dark.

"There is no rain below the earth," Viconia said, sniffling. "Only the deep rivers through the chasms. None of this water from the roof." She sneezed; Shar-Teel flung her a spare cloak from my pack.

"If you've a cold, drow, I'd rather not share it."

"That is the surface word for this?" She wiped a hand across her nose. "How suitable. I have been like this since the first water-day I witnessed in this territory of the surface; when I travelled away from the caravan's sands. A cold. Do not stare, male. Fetch me something to eat," she ordered Garrick.

Wet. Miserable. Deep in Peldvale.

—