Chapter 34
From the moment Jessa Vai had appeared, Dorean knew. Her expression told him everything.
Twenty-five in total. Five robes, five holy symbols.
No openings, no means of escape.
A cold realization set in.
There's no way out of this.
Time slowed, every sound muffled and distorted.
He looked around him at all of his companions, save one.
Jaheira had planted her quarterstaff firmly in the ground and was exchanging harsh words with Vai, her voice growing louder with every syllable. Garrick had placed himself between them in a seemingly futile attempt to quell their rising tempers.
Eldoth had slowly backed away from the unconscious Raiken at Vai's feet and was now standing silently off to the side. He noticed Dorean's gaze and gave an apologetic shrug and tilt of his head. The dwarf gave a small nod of understanding.
He then turned away and froze.
Khalid had placed himself directly in front of the dwarf, sword and shield raised in open defiance of the two dozen mercenaries all around them. Dorean stared up at his grim, resolute expression.
Time returned to normal.
Dorean reached up and placed a firm hand on Khalid's elbow. The man did not budge. The dwarf blinked, then frowned and forcibly pushed past him.
He ignored the half-elves calling out his name, removing and dropping his pack, crossbow, and knives as he went over to Vai. She watched him stonily as he stopped directly in front of her and presented his hands.
A hush descended on the forest.
Vai then removed a pair of shackles from her belt and placed them around Dorean's small wrists. The sound of the locks clicking into place echoed off the trees.
Dorean remained still as Vai used a second set of shackles to secure his legs. He did not look back at the party.
"Someone carry him," Vai ordered, pointing at the unconscious Raiken. "Half of you with me. The other half stay here with them for ten minutes, then escort them back to the camp. Detour and bring them in by the east side."
"Lieutenant?" one of the mercenary-clerics said questioningly.
"You heard me, Sergeant," Vai replied. "And stay vigilant. The two Zhents are still out there."
Dorean glanced up at Vai as she looked at the party and then turned around. He stumbled as one of the mercenaries shoved him in the back of the head, and quietly shuffled forward to follow her.
He felt Imoen's eyes following him out of sight. She had fallen silent the instant Vai appeared and had remained so throughout his arrest.
For that, he was grateful.
..
The camp was now teeming with Flaming Fist. They moved swiftly and diligently in groups of four or more, setting up perimeters, carrying crates and seeing to the dead and wounded. Dorean counted ten new wagons and coaches, along with around thirty horses. Travellers and Flaming Fist mercenaries stood in lines at the back of the wagons, unloading and carrying off crates of supplies and medicine.
Vai led her men steadily through the camp, and many passersby stopped to look at the shackled dwarf and unconscious Black Talon. Eventually, they arrived at a large, dark red tent the size of a cottage. The Flaming Fist symbol was proudly emblazoned on all eight sides of the octagon structure.
The two sentries at the entrance saluted Vai as she marched in. The mercenary carrying Raiken followed her, and a second shove to the back of his head prompted Dorean to do the same.
Remain calm. Breathe easy. Watch. Read.
Halting before an expensive-looking desk, Vai stood to attention and saluted. The officer sitting behind it slowly rose to his feet and pushed back his chair.
Male, mid-to-late twenties. Tall, broad-shouldered. Heavy plate armour, well-maintained and polished. Dark hair and beard, both cut and trimmed. Dark blue eyes.
Dorean glanced at the steel kite shield leaning against one of the desk legs, noting the Flaming Fist symbol on it. He then glanced at the mundane shields of Vai and Raiken's carrier.
Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, the officer slowly rounded the desk, ignoring Vai's salute. He walked past her to stand directly in front of Dorean and Raiken's carrier.
"This is him?" he said, staring coldly down at and towering over the dwarf.
"Yes, sir," Vai replied, remaining at attention and not turning around.
"And this?"
"Blacktalon Lieutenant, sir," Vai answered. "He was captured by the dwarf and his companions."
"Come again?"
"The dwarf and his companions, sir." Vai's tone was mechanical, uncannily similar to Kagain's when he was speaking to Kelddath. "They left the camp, attacked the Blacktalons and captured him."
Silence fell.
"And where are these 'companions'?"
"In the woods, sir, with a dozen of my men."
"Your men?"
Vai straightened and did not speak. The officer slowly turned around and moved to stand in front of her. Dorean glanced briefly at Raiken's silent carrier.
"The Zhents?" said the officer.
"Missing, sir," Vai answered.
Silence fell again. The man's dark blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his subordinate. Then, his steel-shod boots echoing loudly off the ground, he slowly moved back behind the desk and sat down.
"The dwarf attempted to flee. You pursued him into the woods where you encountered and routed a Blacktalon force, capturing their officer as well as the dwarf. You left half of your men behind to secure the area for the caravan's passage and prevent any future ambushes. Is that correct?"
Vai hesitated. The officer's eyes narrowed.
"Is that an accurate summary of your report, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir," Vai answered.
"Very good," the officer replied. "You will be commended for your actions and your leadership, Lieutenant. Your superiors and family will be pleased."
"Yes, sir."
"The caravan will be leaving at dawn. Secure the prisoners and get some rest. You have earned it."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
Vai saluted, then turned and marched out of the tent with Dorean and Raiken's carrier to meet the escort waiting outside.
Her expression remained the same as she led them through the camp and to a large, rectangular cage designed for quadrupedal creatures.
As Raiken was unceremoniously tossed in, Dorean deliberately locked eyes with Vai before he was shoved inside as well. He turned around, maintaining eye contact as the padlock was secured.
Her expression faltered for a half-second before it returned to stone, and after assigning one man as a guard, she marched away with the remaining eleven.
Dorean watched her out of sight before kicking Raiken's arm away and sitting down. He drew his knees to his chest, crossed his shackled arms over his legs, and leaned back against the bars.
He thought of Imoen and Khalid, left back in the woods with a dozen mercenaries including two mages and three clerics, and his expression turned blank.
If they're dead, Jessa, I promise I will look up that family of yours.
..
Glancing up at the cracks of light emitting through the ceiling of the passenger coach, Dorean deduced that it was now early morning. From the sounds of the wheels, the caravan had returned to the road. Despite the early hour, the travellers outside had begun their fourth song, their spirits and confidence bolstered by the Flaming Fist.
Dorean glanced around at the half-dozen Fist mercenaries sitting with him, all of whom were dressed in full armour and had their helmets on despite the heat and discomfort of the coach interior.
Seems they've taken over the caravan. Wonder what happened to Kagain; I haven't seen any of his people.
Dorean slowly leaned back against the wall of the coach, wincing at the lingering pain of his partially-healed wounds; every part of his body ached and protested at the slightest movement, and forcing himself to spend the remainder of the night in the cage wide awake had not improved matters.
There was a murmur next to him, and he turned to see Raiken finally starting to stir.
About time. I thought the Black Talons were supposed to be tough. Just how hard did Eldoth hit him?
With a loud groan, Raiken reached up to rub his head. He blinked upon seeing his shackled hands and looked around.
"Where in the hell am I?"
"You're our prisoner, bandit," the man sitting closest to them answered, his voice distorted by his full-face helmet. "Now be silent."
His lip curling, Raiken glared insolently at the half-dozen mercenaries. His eyes then widened in surprise upon seeing Dorean next to him.
"And what do we have here?" he drawled.
Dorean blinked quietly at him. Raiken sneered.
"Looks like the Flaming Fist have changed their mind about you after all, friend. And I was wondering why they would protect you."
Dorean looked away.
"You and your friends owe me twenty men, dwarf," Raiken said threateningly, leaning in close to Dorean who did not budge. "And I intend to collect, one way or ano- gurk!" He reeled back as the nearest mercenary slammed an elbow into his gut.
"I said be silent."
Raiken spent a minute doubled-over and wheezing before looking up.
"You'll pay for that," he growled hatefully, looking around the wagon. "All of you. Khosann'll line you up and take your heads off with one damn swing of his hammer." He grinned toothily. "I know; I've seen it happen. You're all going to regret you-"
The next blow struck Raiken directly between the eyes. He slumped back in his seat and went limp.
Shaking and rubbing his hand, the mercenary glared at Dorean who calmly returned his gaze.
"May I have some water, please?"
The man exchanged a look with his fellow mercenaries before removing and handing a water-skin to him.
"Thank you."
Dorean took a modest sip, handed back the water-skin with a nod of gratitude, then quietly lowered his head and clasped his hands together on his lap.
Wherever she may be, Morning Lord, keep Imoen safe.
He hesitated for a long moment.
And Khalid as well.
He pretended to pray further as he studied the shackles binding his wrists and ankles.
..
Raiken mercifully remained unconscious for the remainder of their journey.
A few hours passed before the coach slowed to a stop and the mercenaries opened the rear door and ordered him out.
A grey, overcast sky and noon sun greeted Dorean, along with a flurry of activity; all around him, travellers, merchants and mercenaries were setting up tents and makeshift shelters.
As Raiken was unceremoniously dragged out by his feet, Dorean looked around at the walls, gatehouse and castle, the last of which barmaids were bringing out tables and chairs into the grounds.
The Friendly Arm.
He scanned the crowds as the mercenaries attempted to slap the Blacktalon officer back to consciousness. An involuntary breath caught in his throat as he spotted a pink-clad figure; Imoen was standing a short distance away with Khalid, Jaheira, Garrick and Eldoth.
Their eyes met just before he was roughly booted in the back. Dorean reluctantly allowed himself to be led to a guard house at the southern wall.
Several more Flaming Fist mercenaries awaited them in the clean, spacious lobby, including the blue-eyed officer. He stood in the centre of the room, feet spread apart and arms clasped firmly behind his back.
Moving slowly due to their shackled ankles, Dorean and Raiken were both shoved forward into the lobby, the latter glaring at his escort while the former passively ignored them. They stopped several paces away from the officer who regarded them in silence. Dorean glanced around, uneasiness rising as he realized that none of the Friendly Arm's own guards were anywhere in sight.
"Well?" said Raiken. "Are you going to say something, or just stand here and admire us?"
The officer's expression did not change. He turned his head very slightly, his gaze moving to the mercenary standing next to the Black Talon.
The hard punch to Raiken's gut brought him to his knees. Dorean calmly glanced at him, his expression stoic.
"My name is Captain Benjamin Farrahd," the officer said over Raiken's pained gasps. "You two are now under my care." He gestured with his chin to Raiken, and the two mercenaries behind the Black Talon hoisted him roughly to his feet. "Lieutenant Raiken, I have made an arrangement with your commander, Taugosz Khosann. Tomorrow morning, you will be brought east and returned to him. And you, dwarf, will be taken to Baldur's Gate. I trust that there won't be any trouble from either of you. Should you betray my trust, I have healers who will ensure that what will be done to you will not leave a mark."
Farrahd paused for a moment, allowing his threat to sink in. No one spoke; even Raiken had ceased coughing.
"Do you have any questions?"
Raiken glared with open and burning hatred, but remained silent.
"I would like to know what I am being charged with," said Dorean.
Farrahd lifted his chin, gazing past his nose down at the little dwarf. Dorean remained very still, quietly meeting his eyes.
"You already know," Farrahd said coldly. "Unless you have not seen the warrants that have been publicly issued for your arrest." He paused, fixing the calm, stoic dwarf with his dark blue eyes. "But I suppose it is not your fault that Lieutenant Vai neglected to inform you. Dorean of Candlekeep, you are charged with murder, thievery, and suspected involvement in the disappearance of Entar Silvershield's first son. It is preferred that you be brought in alive, but there will be no penalty if you are brought in dead."
Dorean deliberately hesitated before nodding. "Will I be allowed to defend myself against these charges?"
Farrahd blinked, and for a moment, his cold, in-control demeanour seemed to falter. "That is not for me to decide. You will find out soon enough, once I hand you over to my superiors."
Dorean nodded again. "Very well, Captain."
Farrahd frowned at him for a moment before looking up at his men. "Take them down to the cells." He paused as the two prisoners were led past him to an open doorway. "And see to his wounds," he added, pointing at the dwarf.
..
Bentley Mirrorshade took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply before knocking on the double doors to the royal suite.
It opened to reveal Khalid, his nod and smile clearly strained.
The innkeeper hesitated before stepping to the side and waving in the barmaids. Sensing the atmosphere within the suite, they served the dishes in silence before bowing and filing out. Bentley watched them leave before closing the door and walking with Khalid to join the others at the table, which along with Jaheira and Imoen now included Ajantis, Garrick, and Eldoth, the last of whom was the only one in the group who was neither grimy nor bloodied.
"I heard about what happened," Bentley said softly. "Ya alright, kid?"
Imoen nodded without moving her gaze from the table. She was a pitiful sight, her shoulders slumped and her dirty, unkempt hair partially obscuring her eyes. Her clothing was covered in dirt, dried blood, leaf fragments and small twigs.
"You need to eat, child," said Jaheira, her voice firm yet not unkind.
Slowly, Imoen took up her knife and fork, transferred a chicken leg to her plate, and began to cut a slice. The rest of the party exchanged looks before they silently began to tuck into their meals. The entire scene was so depressing that Bentley momentarily looked away.
"...I, ah, wanted to ask," he said to Ajantis. "How is your friend? Lord Witton, was it?"
"He will live," the squire replied shortly. Bentley tilted his head; the young man appeared more angered than saddened or depressed. After a moment, Ajantis sighed and turned to face the gnome. "I apologize for my rudeness, sir."
"No harm done, kid," Bentley replied kindly, patting him on the back of his steel breastplate. He glanced over at Khalid and Jaheira who had seated themselves on either side of Imoen; she had settled her knife and fork on the table after eating only one slice of chicken.
"I suppose we could follow them to the city," said Garrick. "I know people who could help us prove his innocence, maybe build a defence for him."
"Defence?" said Eldoth. "Entar Silvershield's word is the law of this land. I doubt there would even be a trial for our friend. Not an actual one, anyway."
Imoen's head lowered further until her chin touched her chest. Khalid placed a hand on her shoulder while Jaheira glared at Eldoth who leaned back and raised his hands.
Bentley wisely decided not to agree with Eldoth out loud. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing again at Khalid and Jaheira, neither of whom had taken their eyes off the despondent girl.
Garrick looked around the table, rubbing his hands together. "We could bribe them to let him go."
Bentley let out a low hiss. "Ah. I wouldn't do that if I were ya. The Fist do not take kindly to bribes."
"There has to be something we can do," said Ajantis. His right hand curled into a fist on the table. "There has to be."
Bentley glanced at Imoen and the Harpers before facing Ajantis and placing his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry to tell ya this, lad, but if you're thinkin' what I think ya thinkin', ya need to stop. I cannot allow any violence in the Friendly Arm."
"I-I never meant anything of the sort!"
"It's alright, kid," Bentley said reassuringly, patting the squire on the back again. "Still," he added with a pointed look at Jaheira. "Are yas really gonna make an enemy of the Flaming Fist?"
"They struck first," Jaheira answered her voice cold and dispassionate. "As far as I am concerned, they already are."
Bentley stiffened, then looked appealingly to her husband. He dismayed upon seeing the hardened resolve in Khalid's eyes.
"Jaheira..." the gnome began pleadingly.
The doors to the suite swung open and Kagain stomped in.
"Hey, Bentley," he said pleasantly.
Everyone looked at the dwarf as he crossed the room, seated himself at the table, and pulled an entire plate of honey-glazed ham towards himself. He ignored the knife and fork next to his plate, instead using his bare hands.
A few minutes passed in silence save for Kagain's eating.
"Are you alright?" asked Garrick.
"Hmh?" said Kagain, his mouth full.
"We heard you were caught in a trap-spell," the bard hesitantly explained.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I'm okay," Kagain answered. He reached over and grabbed a chicken leg.
"You look more than 'okay,' now that you mention it," Eldoth commented with a tilt of his head; the dwarf indeed looked perfectly healthy for a man who had been only a few paces away from a detonated Skull Trap.
"It's nothin', forget about it," Kagain said dismissively.
"Why are you here, Kagain?" Jaheira asked sternly.
"You guys seen Benjy?" said the dwarf. He tore the chicken leg in two, and Ajantis leaned back as a chicken bone flew past his face.
"Who?"
"Benjy. Benjamin Farrahd. The Fist captain who led the reinforcements here." Kagain paused to take a bite of chicken. "The one who ordered Vai to arrest the nugget."
Jaheira glanced at Imoen. "We have seen him."
"Real uptight guy, ain't he, Bentley?" Kagain said cordially.
"Well..." the gnome said hesitantly, reluctant to bad-mouth his guests. "He certainly takes himself very seriously."
Kagain smirked and grunted.
"And what does he have to do with why you are here now?" asked Jaheira.
"Aside from him arrestin' ya boy, he's also taken my contracts for escortin' the caravan."
The room fell silent save for Kagain chewing nosily on a particularly thick slice of mutton.
"And...you are unhappy about this," Eldoth said slowly.
"Mm. A little," Kagain replied. His voice and expression were calm, relaxed and pleasant.
Bentley realized that everyone else, including himself, had become very still and even appeared to be holding their collective breath. Garrick and Eldoth were both now leaning back in their seats away from the dwarf.
"So anyway," Kagain said, wiping his hands on the table-cloth. "I'm gettin' the nugget out."
Imoen looked up at him. Kagain ignored her, turning in his seat. "Hey, Bentley. Draw out a thousand from my stash. It's yours now."
Bentley blinked at Kagain's pleasant tone and then nodded rapidly. The dwarf's beard lifted in a smile and he turned back to the party.
"The rest of ya need ta be gone from here by sundown. Head south; my guys'll be waitin' for ya on the road. I'll meet up with ya when I've gotten the nugget."
Grabbing a pint of ale, Kagain then promptly hopped from the chair, his boots impacting loudly with the wooden floor, and belched loudly.
"Thanks for the lunch. Be seein' ya."
He left the suite, and they heard him loudly humming a tune to himself as he moved down the hallway.
Swallowing nervously, Bentley looked around at the party, muttered a quick "Excuse me," and hurried after the dwarf.
The double doors swung shut in the innkeeper's wake.
"Well," said Eldoth, glancing at Jaheira. "The enemy of our enemy is our friend, it seems."
Jaheira stared stonily at him. Khalid glanced briefly at her before looking at Garrick and Ajantis. "W-w-well..."
"I'm going with you," said Ajantis.
"So am I," said Garrick.
They both looked at each other before turning back to Khalid, Jaheira and Imoen, all of whom were now staring at them.
"Lord Witton has been assigned a full escort of mercenary bodyguards," said Ajantis. "He no longer requires my services." He lifted his chin. "What was done to your friend Dorean is a grave injustice; if the Flaming Fist had any integrity, they should have..." He paused with a glance at Imoen. "They should have arrested him from the beginning, not blackmailed him into their service only to betray him afterwards." He looked down at the table, clenching and uncurling his mailed fingers. Eldoth raised an eyebrow at this.
"The Flaming Fist represent the law in this region, Ajantis," Garrick said, his tone unusually stern.
"...yes, they do," Ajantis replied. "But I was taught...that one must uphold not only the law, but to protect the helpless and the innocent." He paused, then lifted his head, his face resolute. "What about you, Garrick? Why do you wish to help us?"
The bard looked around the table, breathed deeply and then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "To tell you the truth..." he said hesitantly, looking at the half-elves. "I think I know why you two are here."
Jaheira frowned.
"You're headed to Nashkel to investigate the source of the crumbling iron, are you not?" Garrick asked.
Khalid and Jaheira glanced at each other. Imoen looked up at them and then at Garrick, blinking slowly.
"I want in," the bard declared.
Eldoth placed his elbow on the table and stroked his chin, silently regard his fellow minstrel. Khalid met Imoen's gaze.
"Imoen? W-what do you think?"
She quietly looked around at the three prospective party members, then lowered her gaze once more to the table.
"I just want my brother back," she said quietly.
Khalid gently patted her shoulder. Slowly, all eyes turned to Jaheira, awaiting her answer. She looked around at all of them, her gaze lingering on Eldoth.
"Imoen, Khalid and I will be leaving an hour before sundown. If you are not at the main gate by then, we will not wait for you."
There was a collective pause. Ajantis and Garrick both nodded. Eldoth smirked and stroked his chin again.
"This should be interesting."
The half-elves glared at him, and it was only due to Imoen's mood that they did not retort.
..
Glad to leave the crowded main area of the temple behind him, Ajantis paused to send a quiet prayer to Helm to watch over the departed souls of the lives lost in the caravan before he headed down a wide and low corridor. His sabatons echoed loudly off the stone floor, alerting the four Flaming Fist guards to his presence. None of them nodded, gestured or spoke in greeting, and Ajantis ignored their unfriendly stares as he marched past them into the room.
Bartholomew Witton was sitting up in the room's only bed, stirring a steaming bowl of soup on the tiny wooden tray-table over his lap.
"Milord," Ajantis greeted, bowing his head. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I do not know, Ilvarstarr. How does one normally feel after being poisoned and brought to the very brink of death?"
Ajantis smiled. Despite the man's sardonic answer, there was a lightness to his tone that suggested he was not nearly as prickly as he was letting on; his mood had improved dramatically since he had recovered and learnt of the reinforcements for the caravan.
"You ought to be more concerned for yourself, young man," said Witton, pointing at Ajantis with his spoon. "You look awful."
Ajantis looked down at himself; indeed, his usually-shiny armour was now covered in grime and dried blood.
His body then became acutely aware of the sleep and food it was lacking, and he spared a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply before moving to the corner of the room where he had left his pack. Witton's brow furrowed as the squire double-checked his belongings.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"Yes, milord," Ajantis answered without looking up. "I am joining the freelance group."
Witton slowly lowered his spoon. "The people who helped us on the plain and then tried to convince me not to leave the camp?"
"The very same, milord."
Witton slowly looked away, and for a long moment, there was silence between the duo. Ajantis counted and measured his provisions, keeping his gaze on his pack.
The Amnian diplomat then slowly removed his spectacles and turned back to the squire.
"Ajantis," he said, and his voice was suddenly soft, no longer that of a pompous noble but of a man who had seen and experienced much despite being only thirty-six years old. "I have heard of your past...mishaps."
The squire ceased all movement, his hand gripping a whetstone.
"Lord Firecam told me." Witton paused. "Are you certain you are not making the same mistakes again?"
Ajantis remained still and quiet for a long moment. He then returned the whetstone to his pack and stood up, facing the wall.
"I cannot stand by and allow the Flaming Fist to commit such an injustice."
"Despite knowing that your actions may jeopardize my task to secure peace with Baldur's Gate?"
Ajantis did not hesitate.
"Yes, milord. Despite that."
Witton gazed with half-lidded eyes at the paladin's back. He then looked away and sighed.
"Lord Firecam also told me that you are impulsive; that once you resolve yourself to something, nothing could dissuade or deter you."
Ajantis remained silent, keeping his back to the diplomat.
"He says that it is one of your many admirable qualities. I, however, would call it a flaw." Witton paused. "At any rate, it seems your mind is made up. I hope you will understand that if you do commit a rash and foolish action, that I will disavow and deny all knowledge and responsibility of it."
"I understand," Ajantis replied firmly.
"So be it, then," Witton said haughtily, picking up his spoon and soup. "Go defend the helpless and protect the innocent. Leave me to do the important work."
Ajantis shouldered his pack, turned and bowed to the diplomat. "I will pray to Helm for your success and safe return to Amn, milord."
"I would save that prayer for myself if I were you," Witton retorted. "I have a feeling that you will need it more than I will."
Ajantis smiled, bowed again and then left the room, ignored the unfriendly looks from the four Flaming Fist mercenaries as he strode back down the corridor.
..
Glancing up at the crescent moon in the night sky, Kagain made one more sweep of the grounds from his position at the bottom of the steps to the inn's front entrance. He sneered at the distant sounds of laughter drifting through the open doors above and behind him.
"Nothin' like a night of free food and drinks ta keep a buncha Fist happy, eh, Maija?" He spat off to the side.
"Humph. Less of 'em for me to kill, I say," Maija replied. "They'll be emptying the inn's wine cellars at this rate." She imitated Kagain's spit onto the ground.
"Bentley ain't got a right to gripe, not with what I'm payin' 'im," Kagain replied. "Alright, let's go." He set off at a casual pace towards the guardhouse.
"You sure it's a good idea to send everyone else off, boss?" Maija asked, following close behind him.
"What, think ya can't handle it on ya own?"
"I'm not saying that," the female mercenary bristled. "I'm just saying there's a ton of Fist here. We could use some backup."
"Bentley an' Gellana are all the backup we need. Now shut ya mouth, we're almost there."
Maija frowned, but obediently fell silent.
The two Dented Shields mercenaries marched straight into the guardhouse lobby and made a beeline for the far door. The Friendly Arm guards in the building all averted their eyes at their approach, pretending not to notice them as they passed. Maija nevertheless kept a hand on her axe, shooting threatening looks at every one of them.
As they approached the door leading to the cellblock, the sentry standing next to it unlocked it and then stepped aside, turning his head away. Kagain ignored him while Maija glowered.
"Alright," said Kagain as they moved down the line of empty cells. "We get 'im an' walk out the front gate."
"Just like that?" Maija said sceptically.
"Jus' like that. Nothin' fancy, nothin' complicated," Kagain replied. "I'm always tellin' ya meat-heads, it's best ta keep it sim-"
They both stopped.
Two cell-doors stood open before them, in front of which lay the bodies of Raiken and the gnome jailer. Ceramic fragments were scattered on the floor around them, along with bread crumbs floating in the pools of blood and gruel.
"Ah, shit," Maija hissed.
They both rushed forward, Kagain to the cell doors and her to the bodies.
"He's gone," Kagain growled.
"And they're dead," said Maija.
"Where the soddin' hell did he go?"
"Never mind that, we need to get the hell out of here before-"
"Before what?" asked a voice from behind them.
Maija spun around and drew her axe.
Farrahd was standing in front of the doorway, arms crossed over his breastplate. Eight Flaming Fist mercenaries lined up behind him with weapons and shields raised.
Kagain did not turn around. He straightened and then went very still, staring straight ahead.
"I'm sorry, Kagain," said Bentley, slowly entering the cell block and holding his hat at his side.
"Do not be, Master Mirrorshade," Farrahd said sternly. "You are aiding us in the apprehension of the accomplices of a dangerous criminal." He turned to one of his men. "Raise the alarm. I want everyone searching the castle and the surrounding area immediately."
The mercenary swiftly saluted and left, leaving Farrahd with Bentley and his remaining seven men.
"Drop your weapons," Farrahd ordered. "And you may yet be shown mercy."
Maija did not lower her axe. She glanced at her boss, who still had not moved.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking I will hesitate to kill you, Shield," Farrahd declared. "Your connections won't save you here."
Kagain lifted his head slightly. "Is that right, Benjy?"
"Yes," Farrahd answered, his eyes gleaming and his jaw set in a hard grimace. "Now, for the last time, drop your weapons."
"...alright, Benjy," Kagain replied.
The dwarf then whirled around and hurled one of his throwing axes at the officer's face.