Chapter 14
Deciding to risk being spotted by her again, Dorean kept his head facing forward and moved only his eyes, looking across from Khalid to Jaheira.
If looks could kill, Xzar and Montaron would have both been obliterated.
For the last few hours, Jaheira's icy, slit-eyed glare had been boring into the backs (Xzar's back and Montaron's head, to be precise) of the two Zhents walking in front of her, and there appeared to be no sign of it receding. If anything, it seemed to have intensified.
Dorean slowly looked back to the road. This is not good. She might explode any second at this rate. He lowered his head and eye-lids, furrowing his brow. Accusing her like that couldn't have helped.
He lifted his head to glance at the half-elf walking next to him.
Khalid's clearly-worried expression had been slowly building to anxiety since Jaheira began to mentally burn holes in Xzar and Montaron's backs. He had refrained from speaking to her nonetheless, choosing instead to throw her constant looks and to bite his bottom lip.
Imoen glanced furtively behind her yet again before resuming her conversation with Xzar. Dorean cocked his head to listen; it seemed to be about dinner.
He paused, risking a brief glance at Jaheira, then back to Imoen.
She's trying to keep their minds off of her.
He looked up at Khalid walking between him and Jaheira.
I should do the same.
"Have you travelled on this road before, Khalid?"
The Calishite gave a start before looking down at the dwarf.
"It's just..." Dorean deliberately hesitated and looked away. "This is supposed to be the Coast Way, right? From Calimport to Waterdeep?" He paused again. "Yet we have not seen anyone else out here." He looked up at Khalid. "Is it always this quiet?"
Khalid looked at Jaheira, who finally took a break from glaring at Xzar and Montaron to return his gaze, before turning back to Dorean. "I...I d-don't know. J-Jaheira and I only arrived here from Waterdeep r-r-recently."
Resisting the urge to glance at Jaheira who must be looking at him now, Dorean kept his gaze on Khalid's face, silently beseeching him to keep talking.
"W-Well..." said Khalid, looking up to the road ahead. "It c-could be a g-g-good thing. For you. I mean."
Dorean tilted his head and blinked, imitating Imoen's gesture and expression of polite inquisitiveness.
"This road is usually p-patrolled by the Flaming F-F-Fist."
"Oh," Dorean replied, looking away. He lowered his voice. "You might be right."
"Khalid."
Both Khalid and Dorean started, looked at Jaheira and then immediately followed her gaze.
Two figures appeared on the road ahead, staggering slowly towards the party.
The smaller one had his arm around the shoulders of the other and was limping very badly. He was groaning and grunting in pain with every step.
His companion's eyes were half-closed, and he appeared to be on the verge of losing consciousness. His tunic had been stained almost entirely red, and small puddles of blood were forming in his wake.
"Gods..." said Imoen, bringing a hand to her mouth.
Both men stopped upon seeing the party, the smaller one's eyes bugging out in anxious fear.
"D-don't you be gettin' any closer!" he shouted, his voice fierce yet panicking. "Or...or...I'll have Mom come and give you the belt!"
Dorean frowned and cocked his head. He's only a child.
The boy took one look at Xzar and Montaron, panicked, and attempted to backpedal. He screamed as he put weight on his wounded leg and fell backwards, bringing his companion down with him.
One second of stillness elapsed.
Then Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira, the latter two hurrying past Xzar and Montaron, ran up to the fallen duo.
Moving a few paces ahead of the two bodies, Khalid stopped with his sword and shield drawn, narrowed eyes sweeping the road ahead.
Imoen kneeled in front of the thoroughly-bloodied man and was then gently but firmly shoved aside by Jaheira.
Dorean paused, then made to join them. He glanced at Xzar and Montaron as he jogged past.
Montaron was ignoring the scene in front of him and, like Khalid, was scanning the area ahead.
Xzar stood still, arms loose at his sides and head tilted, wearing an expression that, at a glance, could be perceived as 'sleepy.'
Dorean blinked, then shoved the image away into the back of his mind as he reached Imoen's side.
"This one has lost a lot of blood," said Jaheira, looking over the larger of the two men. "I need to see to him first. You two," She looked up at Dorean and Imoen. "Help me carry him over there." She pointed to a small thicket of trees about twenty paces off the road. "I will take the other one."
Dorean and Imoen exchanged looks. "I'll take his legs," said the dwarf. Imoen paused for a few seconds, then nodded.
As he helped Imoen lift the unconscious person between them while Jaheira lifted the boy in an over-the-shoulder carry, an image of a recent memory appeared in Dorean's mind; two people carrying a single body over to a freshly-dug grave. He glanced once again at Xzar and Montaron before returning to his task.
..
Jaheira reached the thicket before Dorean and Imoen did. After laying the close-eyed and groaning boy on the grass, she went over and took hold of the other man under his arms, shifting Imoen aside with her hips. Khalid followed them, swivelling his head and tightly gripping his sword and shield.
The instant Dorean and Jaheira lowered their burden to the ground, the latter said, "Step back, give me room," without looking up at the dwarf, her attention focused on her patient. Dorean obeyed silently, hurrying over to stand next to Imoen.
Together, they stood several paces away, watching Jaheira taking hold of and tearing the man's thoroughly bloodied shirt without hesitating, then quickly assessing the severity and extent of the man's wounds.
"Barbed arrows," said Jaheira, sitting on her knees and leaning over the body. "One in the chest and another in the shoulder. He must have pulled them out."
"The wounds are fresh," said Xzar's voice from several paces to Dorean and Imoen's right.
The duo turned to see Xzar and Montaron standing side-by-side (though not very close), though Montaron had his back to all of them, facing outward from the thicket.
"The ones who did this are not far away," Xzar continued.
Feeling a lump drop in his chest, Dorean's eyes immediately flicked to Jaheira.
The woman said nothing, instead momentarily staring coldly at Xzar before focusing on her patient.
Dorean's gaze then moved to Khalid, and his eyes widened and he inhaled sharply.
The Calishite's face had turned blank, and despite having lowered his sword to his side, his right hand was tightening its grip on the handle.
"We are not abandoning them."
Dorean and Imoen both started and stared at the half-elf. The dwarf felt his heart skip a beat.
Gone was the nervousness and the stuttering, replaced by a hard-edged, severe tone and a fierce, cold expression that brooked no argument or disobedience.
Montaron turned his head to emotionlessly glance over his shoulder, one eye focusing on Khalid's face.
Xzar blinked and then tilted his head almost to his shoulder.
"How very rude of you to assume that was my first thought," he purred. "And here I thought you were the nicer one."
Jaheira continued to carefully apply a healing potion to the man's chest-wound, but briefly moved her eyes to glare at Xzar for a half-second. The wizard ignored her, wagging a finger at Khalid.
"I am not saying that we leave these two to die and flee for our lives." He paused with his finger in mid-wag, then brought it to his lips in thought. "Not right away, at least." He lowered his hand. "I was going to add that Monty and I are going to scout ahead. We will be back before you kn-"
"You will do no such thing," Jaheira said suddenly, sitting up on her knees and glaring daggers at the two Zhents. Xzar frowned and placed his hands on his hips.
"The attackers might be comin' this way, or set up traps or ambushes fer travellers up ahead," said Montaron without turning around. "If ye're gonna waste time lookin' to those two-"
"And you expect us to allow you to set up a trap of your own?" said Jaheira. "We are not letting both of you out of our sight."
Beside Imoen, Dorean quietly groaned and briefly closed his eyes.
Montaron's one visible eye slowly blinked.
"Last I checked, I don't take orders from ye," he said calmly.
Jaheira froze for a few seconds, then grabbed her quarterstaff and stood up, walking towards Montaron. Her right hand, bloodied from examining the stranger's wounds, tightly gripped the haft of her weapon.
Imoen released the breath she had been holding, her eyes darting from Jaheira to Khalid. Un-tilting his head, Xzar raised both his hands with palms up and facing Jaheira.
"Now, now, madam Harpy. How about you and me have what people call an exchange? I leave Monty with you, and your hubby can come with m-"
"Shut. Up." Jaheira snarled, her lips peeling back to reveal her barred teeth, making her appear almost dog-like.
She took a few more steps towards Xzar and Montaron, and Dorean suddenly focused his gaze on the short-sword on Montaron's back, noting the unusually large, flat sheath.
"We're wastin' time," said Montaron to Xzar. "Let's go." Turning his gaze forward, he began to walk away from the thicket.
"Not one more step!" Jaheira shouted.
The halfling stopped, then slowly turned around to face her, his eyes lowering to half-lids in an expression of detached boredom. Xzar, his head still tilted widely, removed his hands from his hips, letting them fall loosely to his sides.
Khalid swiftly moved in front of and to the side of his wife with sword and shield raised.
Jaheira advanced another step and then started when Imoen darted in front of her and Khalid, facing them with her arms spread wide.
"Stop! I'll...I'll go with him!"
There was an immediate and loud chorus of "No!" as Dorean, Khalid, Jaheira and Montaron simultaneously gave their answers. Imoen jumped, then slumped her shoulders and slightly lowered her head.
The dwarf hesitated for one second, then went over to stand beside her, facing Xzar and Montaron. He lifted his head and spoke loudly. "Look, why don't we just let Jaheira finish healing them, then avoid the area ahead and detour around?"
"No," replied Montaron. "Takes hours to get through these hills and trees, be it east or west." He paused, looking at the dwarf. "We got business in Beregost that can't wait. About a dwarf. Not 'im," he added upon seeing Khalid and Jaheira's expressions.
Dorean paused, then breathed in and out deeply. "Very well. Jaheira," he looked over his shoulder to meet the Tethyrian's gaze, keeping his voice calm and steady. "You need to stay here and see to the two men. They are both in very bad shape, and I doubt anyone here is a more able healer than you." He paused again, then looked at Xzar. "No offense."
Xzar blinked, then raised his hand, closed his eyes and shook his head. "None taken. Most."
"Right," replied Dorean. He then looked at Khalid and jerked his own head slightly in Montaron's direction. "And Khalid, I think Montaron is right; if we are going to linger here, some of us need to scout ahead, and quickly." He looked from Khalid to Jaheira, ensuring that he had their full attention. "And I think that Xzar's idea is the best way. Except that Montaron and I should go with Khalid."
"What?" said Imoen, blinking down at Dorean.
"It is clear that you don't trust each other," the dwarf continued, forcing himself to ignore the girl standing next to him. "So I should go with both of you," he looked from Khalid to Montaron. "As a mediator." He extended both of his gloved hands with the palms facing skywards. "What do you say?"
Imoen placed her hand firmly on Dorean's shoulder. He again ignored her, awaiting the answers of the other four.
"Ye ever done a scouting mission?" said Montaron.
"No," replied the dwarf. "But I know how to move quietly and to stay out of sight."
"Mm." The halfling's black eyes quietly met Dorean's, then Khalid's. Montaron held Khalid's gaze for several seconds. Then he looked back to Dorean and silently nodded.
Discretely releasing his held breath through his beard, Dorean then turned to face Khalid and Jaheira, of whom the latter had lightly taken hold of Khalid's arm above the elbow.
"I do not like this," said Jaheira, lowering her voice to a near-whisper.
"He is right, Jaheira," replied Khalid, also lowering his voice. "These two need your help," he jerked his head at the nearby supine strangers.
They stared at one another for a moment. Then Jaheira swallowed and released Khalid's arm.
"Do not let him out of your sight. Not for a second. Keep him in front of you if you can."
"I will."
Jaheira hesitated again, then simply nodded and quickly returned to her patients.
"Imoen. I need your assistance," she called out.
The pink girl paused, then looked from Jaheira to Dorean.
"Go," said Dorean firmly. "I'll be fine."
Imoen hesitated, looking down at the dwarf in front of her. She then leaned over and gave him a quick hug. "Be careful."
Before Dorean could react, she released the hug, straightened, looked at him for a few more seconds, then hurried over to Jaheira's side.
Dorean watched her for a brief moment, his expression pensive, before nodding to Khalid and walking with him to catch up to Montaron who was already leaving the thicket.
He felt Xzar and Jaheira's eyes on the back of his head, and resisted the urge to look behind him.
..
With Montaron in the lead and Dorean in the rear, the trio set off at a fast jog. Moving far off from the road while keeping it just within sight, they ran southward into the shadows of the trees. Khalid bent forward to protect his face from passing branches, which skimmed off the top and sides of his helmet. Montaron and Dorean, being of shorter height, were not as impeded, though they needed to jump slightly over rocks and tree roots.
They ran for nearly a mile in this faschion across the gradual upward-slope of the forest floor, none of them seeming to slow or tire. Dorean allowed himself a brief smirk at his own hardy dwarven stamina. Guess Reevor's exercise regime was good for something after all.
As they approached the southern tree-line, Montaron and Khalid slowed down and crept to its edge. They stopped in the shadow of a large oak, Montaron kneeling down while Khalid went supine on his stomach. Dorean moved next to Khalid, keeping the half-elf between him and Montaron, then got down on one knee and followed the direction of their eyes. He blinked once, then focused his gaze on the scene of a massacre.
On the road at the bottom of the forested hill lay six large, unmoving caravan wagons. Several dozen bodies were strewn around them. Most had been pierced with arrows.
Armed men clad in mail-shirts of splint moved throughout the area, busying themselves with looting the wagons and corpses and retrieving their arrows.
His eyes roving over the corpses, Dorean noted that some of them were armed and armoured. Not that it did them much good.
"Not bandits," said Khalid, his voice low and calm. "Too disciplined."
"How can you tell?" asked Dorean.
The Calishite glanced sideways at the dwarf. "It's a soldier thing," he said softly before quickly returning his gaze to the raided caravan.
"They're takin' everythin'," said Montaron. "Weapons, armour, helmets...even the wheels from the wagons."
"I count twenty at least. Probably more," said Khalid. He pointed with his left hand, it being closer to Dorean than his right. "Most of the guards have been shot in the back. They must have hit the caravan from both sides and aimed at the ones not facing them. These people are professionals."
Dorean frowned and, moving his head very slightly, glanced sideways at Khalid. The man's expression was the same as his voice; calm and collected.
What happened to his stutter?
He looked up, saw Montaron glancing at him, and looked away.
They stayed silent for a moment, watching the attackers from the caravan raid collecting their spoils of victory. One of them walked up to a crawling caravan guard, turned him over, stabbed him in the neck with his sword, then began looting the corpse.
Khalid's expression remained unchanged, though he blinked three times in one second. He turned to face Dorean.
"You shouldn't have had to see that." He paused. "I...I'm sorry for bringing you with us."
Dorean shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Montaron.
"Doesn't look like they'll be movin' off soon. I'd be guessin' this happened less than a half-hour 'fore we got here."
The dwarf and half-elf looked at the halfling, then at each other before resuming their scouting mission.
"In any case, there are too many for us to fight, even to break past them," said Khalid.
"There might be a ways we could sneak past 'em, then," said Montaron, pointing up and to the left where the forested hill continued to slope upward. He then looked at Dorean. "You. Go check it out."
Khalid's head snapped to the side to face Montaron, his calm expression immediately turning hard and cold. Dorean felt his stomach drop.
"We are not sending him alone up there."
"It be more risky if we all go," said Montaron, his voice beginning to sound disrespectfully bored.
Dorean stayed still in his one-kneed position, watching Khalid glare at the halfling.
After a moment, Khalid said, "I'll do it."
"Wit' that armour a'yers? The sun's in front o' us now." Montaron sneered. "Thought a soldier an' a Harper would'a known that."
Dorean briefly closed his eyes and groaned inwardly.
"Then why don't you go?" said Khalid, his low whisper becoming a snarl.
There was a moment of silence. Then Montaron answered, his voice matching his bored, indifferent expression.
"'Cos I don't want to."
Khalid rose off the ground and onto one knee, bringing his own face level with Montaron's, then fiercely pointed a finger inches from the halfling's nose.
"Listen, you little-"
"Enough, both of you," Dorean hissed. Khalid and Montaron froze, neither moving nor taking their eyes off of each other. "I'll do it."
Khalid hesitated, then rose up on both knees. Keeping his body facing Montaron, he turned his head to glance at Dorean while keeping the halfling in his peripheral vision.
"It's too dangerous, Dorean. You shouldn't-"
"I am the smallest of the three of us, anyway," the dwarf interrupted. "Montaron is correct. Again." He paused for a few seconds to stare coldly at the halfling. "I'll go see if the hillside is guarded."
"Dorean..." said Khalid, fixing his one-eyed stare on the dwarf.
"And if it is, I'll come back immediately."
A moment passed in silence. Then, with another hard glare at Montaron, Khalid turned around, putting his back to the halfling.
Dorean blinked; even with Khalid sitting on his knees, the dwarf still had to look up slightly to meet his gaze.
Khalid hesitated again, then placed a hand on Dorean's shoulder.
"Promise me that you won't take any risks. If you see or hear anything, you get back here straight away, you understand?"
As he looked into Khalid's solemn, worrying eyes, Dorean felt a pang in his chest. For a moment, the image of the armoured half-elf disappeared, replaced by an old, bearded, gray-haired human dressed in sky-blue robes.
He blinked, and the image disappeared. Then he slowly nodded once.
"I promise." He paused, then gave a small grin. "But only if you and Montaron promise not to quarrel while I'm gone."
Khalid swallowed, then nodded. "We won't."
Dorean smiled, then leaned sideways to look at Montaron. "What about you?"
"Fine," replied the halfling, rolling his eyes. "Jus' hurry up an' go."
The dwarf then looked at Khalid, nodded again, then gently brushed the man's hand from his shoulder and turned to climb up the hill, moving further into the forest and away from the tree-line.
Montaron's eyes followed Dorean out of sight, then moved upward to a light-blue bird perched on the branch of the oak. His expression turned blank, and his gaze lingered on the small animal before looking at Khalid, who returned his stare with an equally blank expression of his own. After a moment, the halfling smirked and silently returned to watching the caravan.
..
Despite moving slowly, it still took Dorean longer than he expected to reach the hilltop.
I never had to remain alert in Candlekeep while also watching where I stepped, he thought, stepping over yet another tree-root. The dwarf then paused for a few seconds at the memory of his old home before shaking his head and focusing on his climb.
Eventually, he reached a point where the hill stopped sloping outwards and the trees began to thin out, and a few minutes later, he blinked as he emerged from the shade of the trees onto the flat hilltop.
Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, Dorean then moved at a crouch towards the southern edge of the hill. He blinked upon realizing that he was now at the top of a cliff. The dwarf looked straight down at the rocky cliff-face, then lifted his gaze to the raided caravan far below.
He paused, then crawled backwards away from the edge of the cliff, standing up once he was out of sight of the caravan.
Seems like they didn't set any lookouts up here. He turned his head left and right, surveying his surroundings. Though it may not be the case for lo-
Voices, coming from the east side of the hill.
Dorean's eyes widened, and he immediately cursed himself upon realizing how far he had moved from the trees.
He frantically turned his head left and right, his eyes darting around and then stopping at a large bush several paces to his right.
There was no time to consider; they were almost upon him.
Dorean dived into the leaves, turned to face in the direction of the approaching voices, and dropped down on his knees and elbows.
He hurriedly pulled his cloak over himself just as the faces of two clean-shaven men appeared over the edge of the hill.
..
"By the Great Mother, was that a long climb. Why did you volunteer us for sentry duty?"
"You should be thanking me, you fool."
"Thanking you, Greger? For this?"
"Yes, Anton, for getting you out of sight of the others and for volunteering myself as well! You have been drinking!"
"I have n-"
"Do not deny it!" Greger paused to shake his head in disgust. "Lathander help me, what have I done to deserve a friend like you?"
The other man fell silent and then hung his head. "You are right. I am sorry, Greger." He paused. "I...I just..."
"What were you thinking, Anton? You know very well what the penalty is for drinking while on a contract."
"Look, I...I just needed something to take the edge off. We have been doing this for months now. I have had enough of games of cards and dice, and I have not enjoyed a woman's touch since we left Iriaebor!"
"Khosann's orders, Anton. No one is to leave the camp without permission, nor approach any of the local settlements."
Anton looked away, his expression darkening.
"I heard that the freelancers brought women into the camp."
Greger's eyes narrowed to slits, and he folded his arms over his chest.
"Did you also hear of what happened to them afterwards?" he said slowly.
Anton lowered his head and swallowed. "Look, I was not-"
"Do you know what Khosann would do to you if he learns that you are even thinking of-"
"I am not thinking of that!" Anton shouted, stepping forward. "Don't you dare accuse me of that, Greger, or I'll-"
"Or what?"
They stood very still, their faces inches apart and glaring daggers at each other.
In a bush about ten paces away, what appeared to be a gray boulder of rock hopefully and very slightly lifted its head.
A moment passed, then, still glaring at his partner, Anton took a few steps backwards, grumbling to himself.
The boulder lowered its head in disappointment.
"Khosann this, Khosann that..."
"He has served us well, Anton."
"You really believe that? What about just now, when he took that suit of plate mail for himself?"
There was a pause. "I believe that he thought it was best. Most of us could not have worn it anyway."
Anton snorted and looked away, folding his arms. "Of course you would believe that."
A moment passed in sullen silence between the two men.
"Strange, now that you mention it," said Greger.
"What is?"
"That the man was wearing that under his clothes." Greger tilted his head, clearly lost in thought. "And there was also a sack of gold hidden in his wagon, in the false bottom of a wooden chest."
"So he was a merchant who was paranoid about being robbed," said Anton dismissively.
"How many merchants do you know of who wear plate armour underneath their clothing?"
There was another pause as both men considered this.
"You were closer, Anton. What did he say to Khosann?"
Anton shrugged. "Something about his father. He never finished the sentence."
"Hmm. Could he have been a noble in disguise? And if so, why disguise himself?"
Anton spread his arms wide and to his sides. "What does it matter? He is dead now. Our revered leader saw to that."
"I suppose you are right," replied Greger, scratching the slight fuzz on his chin.
"Ah," said Anton, blinking and turning around. "I need to..."
"Yes, yes," replied Greger, giving a dismissive wave.
To the boulder's consternation, Anton walked right up to it, unbuckled his trousers, and started to relieve himself.
Ten long seconds passed with the boulder holding its breath and silently grinding its teeth behind its closed mouth.
Then, just as Anton had finished answering nature's call and was about to turn away, a breeze blew up the hill, causing the 'boulder' to flutter slightly.
Anton's eyes narrowed, then widened.
"Are you finished yet?" said Greger, still averting his gaze. When no answer came, he looked over at his partner. "Anton?"
The man was now standing very still. Frowning, Greger began to walk towards his partner.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, Greger," replied Anton, his voice sounding oddly calm. "Nothing is wrong. I just..." he paused, then lifted his head. "I need to take a shit."
Greger groaned. "Can it not wait until later?"
"No, no, I really need to do it now, and I cannot with you watching," said Anton, his voice suddenly forceful as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder at his partner. "Just...just go away. Out of sight. I will call you when I am done."
Greger paused, then sighed audibly.
"Have it your way, then."
He turned around and walked toward the edge of the cliff to enjoy the view.
Anton stayed still, listening to his partner's receding footsteps. Feeling a bead of sweat flow down his temple, he looked back down at the blade pressed up against his exposed genitals. His eyes travelled from it to the small, short arm holding the knife's handle, hidden behind his own leg, down to the cloak he had earlier mistaken for a boulder.
"Lean forward and crouch down. Slowly."
Anton hesitated, then flinched as the blade of the knife pressed very, very slightly into his groin. "Yes, yes! Just..."
"Now."
Anton swallowed and then obeyed, leaning forward over the boulder.
The instant he had crouched down as low as he could go, another arm shot out from under the cloak, driving a second knife through the bottom of his chin. The first knife followed a half-second later, plunging into the side of his neck.
Anton's eyes went wide for a half-second before his body went limp and his knees sank onto the ground.
Not a sound. Good.
Letting go of the knives, Dorean quickly grabbed hold of the body and pushed forward, forcing it to stay upright.
"Hurry up, Anton," called Greger's voice, a short distance away and getting closer. "I think they are nearly done down there. We should be getting back."
He stopped short upon seeing Anton kneeling down in front of the bush, his pants only slightly lowered and still covering most of his posterior.
"Lathander help me," he muttered, then began striding purposely towards his partner with fists clenched. "If you have passed out, I promise I am not going to carry-"
Anton's body fell to the side, revealing the two knives buried in his chin and neck.
For a half-second, Greger stared at the corpse with wide eyes. Then he looked up.
The dwarf was already loading his crossbow.
His face contorting in rage, Greger sped full-pelt towards Anton's killer, roaring at the top of his lungs.
He was about five paces away and had just fully drawn and raised his sword over his head, when Dorean raised the crossbow up high and shot him point-blank in the throat.
The dwarf then immediately leapt to the right. Greger's sword clattered loudly onto the ground, followed by its owner's body.
Taking a few seconds to breathe in and out once, Dorean then hurried over to Anton's corpse and retrieved his knives. Sheathing all but one of them, he quickly cut a coin pouch from the dead man's belt, stood up and began to turn away, then looked back at Anton. He blinked, then sheathed his belt knife and began working the man's arrow quiver free from his body.
He looked up upon hearing a loud gurgle.
Greger had somehow managed to turn himself around on the ground, and was now attempting to crawl towards him one-handed, his other hand clamped around the crossbow bolt embedded in his throat.
Dorean cocked his head, noting the head of the bolt protruding from the back of his neck. He looked down at Anton's wide-eyed face, then back at Greger. The dwarf watched him quietly for a moment, then went back to removing the quiver.
After slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder and across his pack, he got up and walked over to Greger. The man reached out with his free hand, taking hold of Dorean's boot. His grip was weak. There was no strength behind it.
He will be dead in minutes.
"So much for friendship, huh?" said Dorean, his voice and expression emotionless.
Blood issued from Greger's mouth as he attempted to speak. His words were lost in another gurgle, but the hatred in his eyes was clear.
Dorean stared down at his face for a moment, then shook his boot free of the man's grip and stepped over his shoulder and past his body.
He disappeared into the shadows of the trees, ignoring Greger's unintelligible, dying curses following softly after him.