"Here," said Imoen gently, offering Dorean another pear.
He turned his head toward her, looking at neither her nor the fruit, then quietly discarded the remains of his first pear, took the offered one and bit slowly into it.
Leaning back against the fallen tree trunk and checking the string of her bow, Imoen watched her roommate's blood-caked face in worried silence; he had not said a word since awakening an hour earlier, and the reddened area on the bandage she had wrapped around his head was now larger than before. From her examination, the wound was deep for a graze and the flesh around it appeared to have been burnt. If he was still feeling any pain, he wasn't showing it.
Dorean chewed slowly on one side of his jaw, leaning forward on the tree-stump and starring at the spot where the armoured knight had vanished from his sight.
When he had finished chewing and then swallowing the piece of fruit, he went still for a long moment.
"I am not going back," he said quietly.
Imoen hesitated before lowering her head, placing her bow on her lap.
"Neither am I," she replied, her tone matching his.
The dwarf eyes widened as he looked at her. Imoen turned her head to the side and away from him, not meeting his gaze.
The image of Gorion falling in a spray of blood filled his mind, and a shadow passed over his face as he starred at her.
He blinked and looked again, noticing the bags under her eyes, short-bow in her lap, and the arrow-quiver propped next to her against the fallen tree.
She stayed awake the whole night.
His eye-lids lowered slightly, and the darkness left his face.
He looked down at the half-eaten pear in his hand, then wordlessly held it up to her. She blinked sleepily, looking at it, then smiled and shook her head.
"No, you finish that. I already ate."
Dorean looked at her again, then slowly nodded and took another bite from the pear.
After a moment, Imoen took a deep breath and set aside her bow, placing her hands on her knees.
"I had gotten across the causeway and started down the road when I saw flashes of light in the forest." She paused. "Must have been the hardest I've ever ran in my life." She gave a weak giggle. "And without Reevor hollering at me too."
Dorean blinked again and trailed his eyes from her head to her feet, noting the tears in her clothing, leaves and twigs in her hair, and the cuts on her face, head and forearms.
"When I got close to the...the clearing, I had to sneak past some people," Imoen continued, still not looking at Dorean. "They had swords and didn't look very friendly."
Dorean tilted his head to the side. "Were there any more of them? After I passed out?"
Imoen finally looked at him. "No, there weren't." She paused. "But the whole night, I kept gettin' this feeling like...like we were being watched."
Dorean paused, then casually turned his head left and right as though working a crick from his neck. Aside from a few birds and forest critters, there was no other sign of life around them.
"I wasn't scared, though," Imoen continued. "Which was odd, 'cos I scare easily." She too turned her head to look around them before moving her gaze to the nearly-eaten pear in Dorean's hand. The dwarf looked at her, then remembered that she had taken the fruits from his pack.
"You didn't bring any food with you?"
Imoen's eyes met his for a second before she looked away again. "I was in a hurry."
He blinked and then leaned backwards, looking around her. Aside from the short bow and quiver of arrows, she was carrying nothing. Even her belt was empty.
Silence descended on them once again before Dorean looked away, took a deep breath and tossed aside the remains of his pear.
"We have to return to the clearing."
Imoen's head and eyes moved slightly toward him, though she still avoided his gaze.
"You sure? I-I mean, d'you really want to?"
"He was carrying all the food," Dorean replied flatly. "We'll need it if we are to reach the Friendly Arm." He hopped off the tree stump.
He was reaching for his pack, which was next to Imoen, when she spoke again.
"I saw it happen."
He stopped with one hand on the pack, starring down at her. Her voice was now barely audible.
"I arrived in time to see it happen." She kept her head down, starring at her knees.
It seemed like over a minute went by before Imoen felt his hand on her head. She raised her tear-stained eyes to his face.
"There was nothing you could have done." His voice was now soft and gentle, in near-mimicry of Gorion's. "You would have been killed along with him."
They looked at each other for a long moment before Dorean removed his hand from her head, shouldered his pack and turned back to her with an offered hand.
"Come on."
She looked up at his face and then, closing her eyes and sniffing back another round of tears, took his hand and stood.
..
Pausing to pick up his still-loaded crossbow off the ground, Dorean followed a few paces behind Imoen. Ignoring the smell of rotting and burnt flesh, he stopped beside her to look upon Gorion.
The wizard's tall body had been bisected from shoulder to waist, and his ribcage and internal organs were exposed. The blue robes were now dyed a deep red.
Widened eyes starred sightlessly at the morning sky. The agape mouth completed the expression of surprise.
A choked sob escaped Imoen as she brought her hand to her mouth. It took her a long moment to control herself, her body shuddering as she fought back the tears threatening to flood her eyes, before she turned to look down at Dorean.
Unlike the previous night, there was no sign of tears from him this time. He stood very still, crossbow loosely held in one hand and pointed at the ground, starring unblinking down at the corpse.
"They didn't take anything," he said, his voice and expression as dead as the man before them.
Without thinking, Imoen turned to him, dropped to one knee and embraced him from the side, burying her chin in his hair and linen-wrapped head. The dwarf did not move, continuing to stare at Gorion's body.
After a moment, she leaned back and released the hug.
"I'm going to search him now. You just stay here. Okay?"
Three seconds passed without Dorean moving or even blinking before he gave a slow nod. Rubbing his shoulder, Imoen gave it a pat, then moved over to and got down on both knees next to the body.
The first thing she picked up was the food-bag. Giving it a once-over and seeing no damage, she placed it aside. Then, with an apologetic look to Dorean, she reached out and, ignoring the blood, shifted Gorion's body to remove his pack.
The minutes went by in silence aside from the remote calls of birds and critters. As she gingerly removed the pouches that remained intact on Gorion's waist and secured them to her own belt, Imoen stole glances at Dorean; he still had not moved a muscle since stopping in front of the body, and his gaze remained fixed on it.
It took her a few tries to free the dagger from the dead man's grip. Removing its sheath from his belt was much easier.
Securing the dagger to her own belt, Imoen leaned back on her knees for a moment, breathing deeply through her mouth.
Her eyes went to the leather-bound book visible beneath his robes; it was undamaged and clean of any blood or dirt. Imoen reached out with a trembling hand, then hesitated, her eyes moving to Gorion's face.
"Take it," Dorean whispered.
She looked at him. He had finally turned his gaze from his foster father and was now looking at her.
"He would have wanted you to have it."
Blinking back tears, Imoen smiled gratefully at him before turning back to the spell-book. It proved surprisingly easy to remove, and she immediately placed it in Gorion's pack.
Walking over to her, Dorean handed her a cloth from his pack to wipe her blood-covered hands, then helped her put on the pack.
They stood side by side, looking down at the old man. Imoen then turned to speak to Dorean and saw a shadow rise from behind their own, falling across Gorion's body.
In the second that it took both of them to spin around, a hand shot out and seized Imoen by her throat. She froze in mid-turn with her arms at her sides, starring wide-eyed at the tall stranger in front of her.
The second passed, and Dorean brought his crossbow up towards the man's chest.
"Let her go, now," he growled.
The green-robed man did not answer or even acknowledge his existence. Bright, vibrant emerald-coloured eyes starred straight into Imoen's own darker-shaded jade. Aside from them being as wide as dinner plates, he showed no emotion.
Dorean raised the crossbow slightly, aiming directly at the stranger's heart. "Let. Her. Go," he snarled, gritted teeth showing through his beard.
Again the man ignored him. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, appearing to examine Imoen's face.
Dorean took another step forward and sideways, pressing the tip of the bolt into the man's side just beneath his arm.
"You have three seconds. One."
"D-Dorean."
"Two." His finger tightened on the trigger.
"Dorean."
His eyes went to Imoen. The girl was no longer looking up at the man's face, but at him.
The dwarf went very still, his eyes fixed on hers. Then, very slowly, he took his right hand off the fore-grip of the crossbow and moved it under his chin.
Instead of flesh or cloth, his fingers touched metal.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, his eye-lids lowering, Dorean slowly moved his crossbow away from the tall stranger and held it out to the side with the loaded bolt pointed up. He felt something behind him gently but firmly remove the weapon from his grasp.
"Now," said a clear and calm voice behind Dorean's ear. "I'm gonna take me blade off ye. No sudden moves, do ye understand?"
"Yes," the dwarf answered. He took a low, deep breath and held it, curling the fingers of his right hand.
"An' no reachin' fer the blades in yer belt, boot and sleeve." The voice paused. Dorean leaned back as he felt the dagger press lightly against his throat. "Do ye understand?"
Closing his eyes, Dorean released the breath he was holding nosily through his nose, grinding his teeth together. "Yes," he hissed.
Several seconds passed in silence. Then, having heard no sound or movement behind him, Dorean opened his eyes, paused, and moved his hand to his throat again. The blade was gone.
Keeping his arms out, he stepped slowly to the side, turning to face both the green-robed stranger and his partner.
Before him stood a halfling dressed in brown clothing of the exact same colour as his skin. Aside from long, pony-tailed, coal-black hair, the only other distinctive colour was his eyes; pools of empty, cold black. Dorean met them with a cold, blank stare of his own.
They both stood very still, eyes firmly on each other. Dorean resisted an urge to glance at the human stranger or Imoen.
The halfling's right hand was now empty; aside from the short sword on his back and Dorean's crossbow in his left hand, now pointed at its owner, the dwarf could not see any other weapon on the man. He felt cold sweat on his bandaged head.
I'll never reach my weapons in time. Not like this.
He paused in thought, struggling to keep his expression blank.
Get him to lower his guard. One second'll be enough.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Heya," said a cheerful voice.
Dorean and the halfling blinked at the exact same time, then turned their heads to look at Imoen.
"Hello," replied the green-robed man pleasantly, his head and eyes still tilted and wide.
Dorean and the halfling blinked again.
"I'm Imoen," said Imoen, sounding remarkably calm and looking more curious than afraid or surprised.
"Imoen," said the man.
"Yea, that's my name."
"Imoen," he repeated, slower this time.
Silence.
"What's yours?"
The man tilted his head further. "Hmm?"
"Your name, good sir. What is it?"
Pause.
"My name?" whispered the man.
"Yeah," said Imoen. Ignoring the hand around her throat, she clasped her own hands behind her back in a formal posture of welcome and greeting.
Dorean looked at the halfling. The halfling looked at him. They blinked at each other, then went back to starring at Imoen.
The man looked vacantly off to the side at nothing, seemingly lost in thought or memory. Over a minute passed in this fashion, with neither Dorean nor the halfling moving at all and Imoen politely awaiting his answer, before he finally turned his green eyes on her again.
"Xzar. My name is Xzar."
"Very pleased to meet you, Xzar."
He tilted his head widely to the side, bringing his ear to his shoulder.
"You are?"
"Of course."
Xzar starred at her. So did Dorean and the halfling.
"And what about you?" said Imoen, turning her head awkwardly to look at the halfling. "What's your name?"
The halfling starred at her, his expression blank.
Glancing at him and without moving his head from facing Imoen, Dorean slowly shifted his right foot an inch forward across the ground towards him. Without taking his eyes off Imoen, the halfling raised the crossbow from Dorean's chest to his head. The dwarf stopped moving.
After a moment, the halfling finally spoke.
"Montaron."
"Pleased to meet you too, Montaron," said Imoen.
Silence fell. Imoen turned back to Xzar.
"Xzar, why do you have your hand on my throat?"
Xzar blinked, his head still sideways, then looked down at his own hand, as though he had just noticed where it was. Imoen spoke up again.
"Could you let go of me, please?"
Xzar blinked.
"It's making me uncomfortable," she added apologetically.
He blinked again, then nodded and promptly removed his hand. He stood still, hands at his sides, head tilted and eyes fixed on Imoen.
The pink girl blew out a breath through her mouth, then turned to Montaron with her hands still clasped behind her back in formal greeting.
"Now that we are all friends, Mister Montaron, would you kindly point that crossbow away from my brother? I think it's making him a tad nervous."
Montaron's eyes narrowed to slits and he tightened his grip on the weapon.
"He won't do anything foolish, would you, Dorean?" Imoen added hurriedly.
"No," replied Dorean, keeping his eyes on the halfling. "No, I won't."
"There's that, then," said Imoen. "Mister Montaron, if you please?"
Montaron shared a glance with Xzar, then gave a short nod and lowered the crossbow. Dorean lowered his arms to his sides, releasing the breath he was holding.
"Xzar, Montaron," said Imoen. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Dorean." She raised an arm and pointed at the dwarf in an introductory gesture.
Looking away from Montaron, Dorean turned to face Xzar, his gray eyes meeting the man's green.
"Brother," said Xzar very softly. He paused, then abruptly smiled and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he purred.
Dorean hesitated, looking at the offered hand and then at Xzar's face. Montaron's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow. Imoen simply blinked.
After a moment, he took the hand, blinking at how cold it felt. Xzar kept it still, so Dorean bobbed it up and down in a short, awkward handshake before releasing it.
Everyone looked at each other for a moment before Imoen spoke.
"So what brings you two gentlemen out here?"
"We have been sent to investigate the shortages and thefts of iron in the Sword Coast," declared Xzar, clasping his hands behind his back in a mimicry of Imoen's posture. Montaron quietly gave his partner a venomous glare which the man completely ignored. "The mayor of Nashkel has arranged to meet with us," Xzar added, raising his chin and puffing out his chest.
Dorean frowned, his eyes moving between Xzar and Montaron. "You're mercenaries?"
Xzar's chest deflated and he pouted down at Dorean. Montaron glared at the dwarf and answered with an unhelpful grunt before turning to look at Gorion's body.
"He a friend'a yers?"
Dorean went very quiet, starring at the halfling's neck. Imoen glanced worriedly at her roommate, then nodded at Montaron. "Yes, he was. A very dear friend."
"Mm," answered Montaron. "Put up quite the fight, din't he?" He turned his head and looked around the clearing, his eyes sweeping over the charred bodies of the archers and exploded remains of the ogres.
Something clicked in Dorean's mind, and his head turned from left to right as he looked between the two men. "You killed the lookouts."
Montaron turned to look at him, and for a second Dorean thought he saw amusement on the halfling's otherwise blank face. "Aye. Me an' the wizard 'ere saw the fireworks an' thought we'd take a look. Fools got in our way."
Dorean exchanged a look with Imoen, and the message passed silently between them.
They are the ones who were watching us all night.
Dorean glanced at Xzar; the man was now starring silently at Gorion's body and appeared to have lost awareness of anything else. The dwarf felt a shiver run down his back; Xzar's expression was now completely unreadable.
"Well, thank you, sir," said Imoen, bowing her head slightly to Montaron. "You probably saved our lives."
Montaron glared at her. "What exactly d'ye mean by 'a very dear friend'?" He turned a cold, hard gaze onto Dorean.
Lying to this man would be a mistake.
"I am his ward."
The halfling raised an eyebrow. "Foster father, eh?" His lips parted to ask another question.
"We will help you bury him," said Xzar abruptly, his face still unreadable. Dorean, Imoen and Montaron all turned to look at him. "And by 'we', I mean me and you," he added, looking pointedly at Montaron.
He then walked over to and behind Montaron, took two small trenching shovels from his pack, handed one to the bewildered halfling, then walked to a spot a few feet to the side of Gorion's body and promptly began digging, bending over awkwardly due to the shovel's short length.
A few minutes passed with Dorean, Imoen and Montaron silently exchanging glances in between starring at Xzar, before the wizard looked up and tilted his head, giving the halfling a reproachful look.
With a snort and a cold warning glare to both thieves, Montaron walked over to Xzar, set down his pack and Dorean's crossbow, and began digging himself. He did not take off the short-sword on his back.
Imoen and Dorean exchanged stares, then simultaneously moved to stand next to each other and quietly watch the two strangers.
Montaron dug in silence, mechanically shovelling and dumping earth and dirt to the side. He threw dirty looks at Xzar whenever he had to turn to face him, and gave Dorean one as well when he noticed the dwarf starring at him.
Dorean looked away from the unfriendly halfling and watched Xzar instead. The wizard was digging at a slower, more relaxed pace, and was now humming a tune to himself.
Dorean cocked his head very slightly at the feeling of familiarity that came over him.
"You know what song that is?" he asked quietly, moving his head closer to Imoen while keeping his eyes on Xzar.
"It's a ballad," she replied, also watching the man. "I think I've read it, but I don't remember which."
"S'called 'The Wizards' Tune'," said Montaron, not looking up from his work. Dorean and Imoen looked at him. The halfling said nothing else.
After a moment, Dorean walked over to Gorion's body and, without looking at his face, reached down and gently removed the brooch of his cloak. He stood up slowly, looking at the object in his palm, and walked back to Imoen while keeping his eyes on it.
The girl reached out and traced a finger over the brooch.
"A Crescent moon and harp surrounded by four stars," she whispered. A moment passed before her eyes widened and she turned them onto her roommate. "This is a Harper symbol." They looked at each other before Imoen turned to the other two men. "Are you Harpers too?"
Xzar froze, dropping his shovel and spilling dirt onto his robes. With his back to them, neither thief saw his expression.
Montaron planted his own shovel in the ground and leaned on it, meeting their expectant gazes. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk, and he simply shook his head at them. Then he turned, flicked dirt toward his partner with the end of his shovel and resumed digging.
Xzar turned and gave the halfling a malignant, tight-lipped glare. He picked up his own shovel, gripping it tightly in both hands, and stared intently at the back of Montaron's head.
The halfling did not pause in his work, though he noticeably slowed, his face losing what little expression it had earlier.
After a moment, Xzar looked up at Dorean and Imoen, smiled at them, and then went back to digging.
He began humming the ballad again, as though he had never been interrupted.
Dorean and Imoen looked at each other, then quietly sat down to share a meal from the food-bag.
..
They gathered large stones and placed them next to the shallow grave. None of them raised the subject of destroying the circle patterns.
Montaron and Xzar stood at both ends of Gorion's body, the halfling at the legs and Xzar at the head. They shared a look before picking up and carrying their respective halves to the grave, Montaron taking less time and effort than his partner and not bothering to keep them appearing intact.
Imoen closed her eyes and looked away. Dorean's followed the short and final journey of his foster father, his face blank. He then slowly walked over to the two men and nodded to Montaron. The halfling starred at him, then wordlessly handed him the trenching shovel.
"Wait," started Imoen. "You're hurt-"
"No. You stay there," answered Dorean sternly.
Feeling the dwarf's gaze on him, Xzar met his eyes, gave him a slow smile, then shovelled dirt from the pile next to the grave and slowly poured it in. Dorean stood still for a few seconds, watching him, then quietly moved past Montaron to the dirt-pile.
As Dorean and Xzar began pouring dirt over the body, Montaron moved to stand next to Imoen, wiping dirt and blood off his hands. Noticing the direction of his gaze, Imoen too looked at Xzar; the man was no longer humming, though now he wore a small smile, as though enjoying a pleasant hobby.
Turning to her, Montaron thumped the food-bag with the back of his hand. Imoen blinked, then opened it and handed him a block of cheese. He took it and then reached into the bag himself, removing a wine bottle. Turning back to watch Xzar and Dorean, he ignored her blinking at him.
Imoen waited until Montaron had swallowed his first mouthful of cheese before speaking.
"Why did he grab my throat?" she asked, her tone light and innocent.
Montaron paused with his mouth half-way to the cheese. He lowered the food and turned his gaze to her.
"Hells if I know."
Dorean did not lift his head from his work, though Imoen saw his eyes narrow at the sound of Montaron uncorking the bottle.
..
They stood together in front of the stone-covered grave while Montaron and Xzar stood off to the side.
"Do you want to say something?" Imoen asked gently, squeezing the dwarf's shoulder.
"No."
She paused. "Do...you want me to say something?"
"No." He did not look up at her.
She watched him blink as the tears silently flowed down his face and gathered in his beard, then clumsily hugged him one-handed to her side. He returned the gesture, reaching around her back and placing a hand on her waist.
After a long moment, they turned away from the grave and went over to Xzar and Montaron.
"Thank you very much for your help," said Imoen.
"You want something in return," said Dorean brusquely, picking up and shouldering his pack.
"Hmm," said Xzar, his head now tilted to the side as he starred down at them both. "Perhaps you might go with us to Nashkel?" Both thieves looked up at him while Montaron casually picked at dirt in his fingernails. "We have decided that you might be useful for our investigation."
Dorean and Imoen exchanged glances; Montaron and Xzar had not said a word to each other since they appeared to them in the clearing.
"However," continued Xzar. "I will not hold you to your gratitude. You may go with us, or you may not."
"Let yer conscience be yer guide," said Montaron, starring straight at Dorean. He was still holding the dwarf's crossbow.
Dorean looked at Montaron, then at Imoen who was now looking at Xzar. After a moment, he turned back to the two men.
"We are going to the Friendly Arm," he said tersely. "My father had arranged to meet someone there." He paused, watching their expressions, neither of which changed in the slightest; Xzar's head did not move from its tilted position nor his gaze from Imoen, and Montaron continued to stare at Dorean. "Would you mind if we go there first?"
"Not at all," replied Xzar, now turning his emerald eyes on Dorean. The dwarf resisted an urge to blink. "It's best to travel accompanied, would you agree, Monty?" He gave the halfling a wide, toothy grin.
Instead of answering him, Montaron picked up and shouldered his pack one-handed, then removed the bolt from and held Dorean's crossbow out to him with the business end pointed down.
Dorean nodded and took hold of it. The halfling did not relinquish his grasp.
"If ye ever think'a pointin' it me way," he said, his voice calm and even. "Better not miss."
He starred into the dwarf's eyes for five seconds before releasing the crossbow, then promptly turned and walked away, ignoring the gazes of the other two, twirling the bolt between his fingers and stepping over the remains of the ogres.
Xzar huffed at his companion, then turned back to the two thieves. "Oh, don't mind him. He just wants attention. Always does." He leaned down toward them and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Most people usually don't ever notice him. It makes him very sad."
He straightened his back so swiftly that both Imoen and Dorean jumped, then with a dramatic flourish gestured for them to lead the way.
Dorean hesitated, then reached into his pocket and removed the Harper brooch, holding it in his palm and looking down at it.
He closed his eyes and once again saw Gorion falling to the knight's great-sword.
Run, child.
He felt Imoen's hand on his shoulder. After a moment, he closed his fingers around the brooch, returned it to his pocket and slung the crossbow over his shoulder and onto his pack.
He inhaled deeply and released through his nose, then opened his eyes and walked past and under Xzar's arm after Montaron.
Imoen watched him for a few seconds, then nodded politely to Xzar and followed Dorean, ducking under the man's arm.
Xzar glanced after them, then turned his gaze back to the grave. His bright green eyes lingered on it for several seconds before he turned to follow his companions.