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Dearest Readers, though life may leave your ship high and dry, have a little patience and a little cheer for soon the waves will ride once more in your favor.

Retroactive Scribblings: Chapter 42 was revised to replace Nashkel with Beregost as the caravan's destination south of the map. Thanks to the Mysterious Guest for being ambiguous with his itinerary. A thousand apologies for the oversight. *bows while chewing correction pen* ᶘ ◕ᴥ◕ᶅ

THE HIDDEN SWORD

Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 45: Echoes in the River

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The Mincing Minnow sailed without a hitch as they continued without putting to shore. Within days they passed Fort Morninglord, Kagain egging the Captain to speed up, short of ordering the man to climb down the hull and paddle with his own two feet. For once, the Captain made no excuse, even appearing agreeable and wishing for more favorable winds. By estimate, they were at most three days by ship away from Baldur's Gate, where a handful more of Blackmauls were stationed and waiting to boost their ranks. From there they would begin their land trek for Beregost.

Irse went over the plan – with the caravan at its scheduled stop at the city for a tenday and a half, she and Okami would travel ahead to Candlekeep to see Gorion, then rejoin the convoy at the Lion's Way.

A shiver went through her, not for the coolness of the approaching evening, but for the excitement of the impending return. The Keeper of Portals might waive her fee as a former resident, but just to be on the sure side, it wouldn't hurt to find them a suitable tome among the many shops in the Gate – something passably uncommon but not so rare it'll burn a hole in their combined purses.

In summers past, Gorion had assigned her to helping the Keeper of Portals sort through the mountain of tributes from visitors, thusly she had an idea of what was acceptable to the Great Library. Often something like The Official Twenty-Eighth Revision of the Approved Fifteenth Publication of Commentaries on Discourses and Opinions Arising from the Derivation of Stochastic Outcomes Mapped Onto Discrete Probability Distributions as Observed under the Arcane Application of Supervisory Principles-Based Control Assessment in the Risk Management of Wild Magic Surges – Thayan Edition (By Consensus to be Undeniably Far Superior to the Halruaan Edition Which Sucks Cockatrice Eggs).

Irse grinned with surety. Stuff like that oughtn't be hard to find in any magic shop, what with wizards always seriously into weird reading.

Ah, what will it be like to pass through those gates again? Beyond those walls Gorion would be there, steadfast and unmoved like a mountain, the man who cast his shadow upon her even six years and many leagues away.

Will he be happy to see her again? Overjoyed? Relieved? Goodness, might he fuss at the sight of her scarred ear? Ask her to recite from pure memory the contents of the letter she sent a year ago, just to make sure the entire report inked true and not an on-the-spot fib as she were wont to do in her childhood mischief?

Hopefully so because what if otherwise? Disappointed? Furious? Worse, not acknowledging her existence, having disowned his foster child as punishment for turning her back on him?

Irse wagged her head. No, this elf won't just be sitting down and accepting the plate of the worst scenario like some soggy pie. Oh no, none of that. Surely, Father will understand, or at the very least, listen to her reason. And if he doesn't, well, she could always count on Okami to back her up.

Indeed, trust him to stick to the plan to constantly remind Gorion, more like every hour, that his foster daughter had never been in jail nor caused considerable wide-scale property damage in all those six years. Irse nodded to herself. Yes, that should work perfectly.

A bit of confidence regained; her thoughts walked a happier path. What would Gorion look like now, though? Ever clear of mind and in fine fettle, yet already grayed and weathered since the young elf could remember, certainly nothing should change about the old sage. Imagine then if she were to burst through the gates, seeking her Father, walking up to each of the residents and shaking them until finally coming upon Gorion – snowy hair and beard now darkened, the ever-present furrows on his brow vanished, magically returned to his youth for no longer having to endure his ward's antics.

At least, her absence might have done him a crumb of good.

And what of Imoen? A girl when Irse left, she ought to be a young woman by this time. Broomlike hair not even braids could ever tame, freckles and stubby knees all gone and in their place, a winsome auburn-crowned maid perhaps now even a head taller than the elf.

The sniveling and bratty whining whenever she couldn't get her way, possibly matured into that graceful daintiness which all young women seem to suddenly come into. The former munchkin's burning wish to outrun and outclimb and outbelch the elf in every contest of theirs finally replaced by a newfound penchant for ladylike pastimes and sensibilities.

Why, Imoen could even be one of the Avowed now! A sputtering laugh escaped Irse's lips, and she wiped her eyes. Yet there remained an affection and eagerness to see her oldest friend and the only one who ever counted for something like a sister to the elf.

What of her former tutor? Ever affable and patient Brother Karan who taught her letters and sums, proving to all that Gorion didn't bring home an untamable gibberling. Not a surprise if she were to find him in the apothecary as always, lost in happy work among his herbs and brews.

Good o'l Winthrop, bet her bottom copper, the man should still be paunchy and jolly as ever, maybe his girth brushing the width of the inn door by now. Wise and dignified Tethoril, soft-spoken and indulgent, yet certain to be sharp and astute as ever. The Watchers Fuller and Hull so admirable and unfailing in their duties even when thoroughly soused out of their helms. Sweet Phylidia who often forgot people's name but not how they could always use a piece of sweet or a kind word to brighten their day.

Of course, would anyone forget the Keeper of Tomes, Master Ulraunt and his pet Brother Nador? Irse scrunched her nose. Shouldn't be a shock to find them now joined at the hip and having sprouted goat horns and hooves, finally matching the blustery bleating of their endless sermons.

Irse smiled to herself, recalling the other colorful residents and her equally warm-hued memories of them. Though they treated her somewhat oddly at times, a puzzling mix of pity from the kinder folk, an unspoken expectation from the elders such as Father and Tethoril, and downright suspicion and barely concealed hostility from Ulraunt and his lackeys.

Nonetheless, it ought to be great to see Candlekeep again.

Eyes narrowed calculatingly at one more important detail, a detail none could afford to overlook unless they thought skeletons belonged outside the closet.

How to keep Okami far, far away from Jessup and Theodon, short of unrolling an entire continent between him and them.

Shouldn't be hard to cover that one. All in all, a good plan, taking this chance to finally see her former home once more.

Even if Kagain cuts her pay for the missing days.

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Nearing midnight, she and Daley stood at the forecastle, the elf scanning the horizon for anything suspicious in the water or along the banks. As with all nights prior, the whole world lay quiet, before them the Chionthar stretched on like a road of deep glass, verged by sparse woodlands bordering the rolling hills of the Fields of the Dead to the north, and by the more dense Sharp Teeth to the south.

Kagain preferred they sail with as little light possible at night, evidently expecting the dark to deter any attempts on their ship, to which the Captain scoffed – unnecessary paranoia, the man had said, for there be no pirates in the river.

Nothing out of the ordinary, time to make rounds on the rest of the ship. Irse signaled her plan to proceed to the aft, which Daley acknowledged with a nod. Down the steps to the main deck she went unhurriedly then halted, sighting two figures standing by the helm.

Selune's light and elven eyes easily confirmed them as Old Salt and the Captain, seemingly discussing something. Curious, Irse stayed at the steps to observe – the Captain speaking in low tones and gesturing animatedly while the first mate gripped the wheel, his shoulders in a protective hunch and shaking his head. An argument between them?

She leaned forward. Where could he be, the Blackmaul on watch at the sterncastle? Irse squinted. Surely the lad could see this as well, his vantage giving him good range to catch whatever juicy tidbits were passing between those two, elven ears not needed for that.

And then the Captain drew a weapon and struck Old Salt in the head with the butt of his sword, the latter slumping over the wheel before crumpling to the floor.

"No," Irse screamed, if only to distract him from possibly finishing the job. She leaped down and drew her blade. From behind, footsteps thumped on the planks, Daley likewise hurrying after her.

Alerted, the Captain swiftly pulled another object from his belt, a rod which he pointed at the elf. A volley of magical globes of purple and red streaked from the helm and slammed into her sides, not the pain but the surprise stopping the elf in her tracks. Daley shouted and moved to shield her. Irse seized his arm.

"Careful," she said with an irritated grunt. Blasted things hurt like three iaitos whacking at the same time.

Suddenly the ship lurched dangerously port side. They managed to grab at the rails just as they lost their footing. Cries of surprise and the crash of objects dislodged echoed from below in the hold.

Clear as day what the Captain planned to do - she had seen it before in what felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago. Irse braced herself, readying for another sprint but just then, the Minnow rammed into a rocky shoal, and both Blackmauls whipped through the air like rag dolls. Slammed against the portside rails, the wind whooped out of her lungs, all sense of the world lost for a blink. Then once more, the night went still, returned to the soft murmurings of the river.

Smacking at her temple to dispel the dizziness, Irse pulled herself up, peering over the edge to look around. Wonderful. Run aground once more, just in the opposite direction.

She groaned, more from frustration than pain. "You're not going to believe this," the elf said in dry and mock amazement. "We just landed in Amn!"

Well, not really, of course. But ending up in a big and warm sunny city way down south of the Sword Coast was a whole lot better than getting stuck in the middle of cold and wet nowhere next to a stinky river and the dark woods. Again.

Still sprawled on his belly, Daley coughed a hoarse laugh. "No way in hells. Not paid enough to go that far."

"I wish," Irse muttered, searching for her sword, finding it close by.

At the same time, the Captain rose by the helm, staggering. Now's the chance! She got to her feet but stalled. Moonlight glinted on the blade held right over Old Salt.

"That's right, lass, if you wish him to live," the Captain said. "I'd give a more fitting farewell, but perhaps another time."

He fired the wand over his head and with a wave of his hand, flashed out of existence. High into the night sky the same flickering spheres streaked upwards until they were lost to their eyes.

"Blast it! He's gone," she snarled, kicking at the air and the Captain's imagined teeth before rushing to the helm to check on the first mate.

"Not exactly your summer fireworks, eh?" Daley said, still looking up as he stumbled over to them. The young man helped move and prop Old Salt against the helm's pedestal, clicking his tongue as he surveyed their current predicament. "For once, I don't feel like smacking those greenhorns for trying to worm their way out of night watch. Tymora bless my luck. Hate to see what everything looks like now below deck."

Luck indeed, what is it with them getting stuck with captains who like crashing their own ship, Irse groused.

From the hold, a few emerged, dazed and disheveled as the quiet air gave way to bewildered and confused shouts. Quickly she scooted over to the hatch while Daley followed after with some effort, his feet slipping from the angle of the deck, muttering with good-natured envy over elven surefootedness. Together they helped pull the others out, Irse asking about Okami to anyone who might hear below.

"He be in one piece still, don't tear off yer knife-ears just yet," Kagain grumbled. Beside him, their guest and his manservant huddled close, wrapped in their cloaks.

Irse knelt by the hatch to see for herself and true indeed to her relief, the blacksmith seemed well, even hale enough to support another man with a bloodied head.

"Are you hurt?" Okami called out to her.

"Iron noggin," she cheered, knocking at her temple.

Soon everyone got off the ship and on to the riverbank where they started a small fire and tended to the injured, none fatal, mostly mere sprains and bruises. They found a Blackmaul, the one assigned to guarding the sterncastle, shaking and clinging to the mizzenmast like a frightened cat up a tree. Poor lad readily admitted to falling asleep while on duty, awakened by the sudden shift in direction, barely managing to grab hold for dear life.

Luckily, Old Salt's head wound didn't prove serious at all. When the first mate finally came to, he crisply cursed the Captain for ordering him to purposely run the ship aground which he refused. He didn't mind the blow to his temple, rather the fact that he was out cold and never had the chance to bash the Captain's face on the wheel.

Irse's eyes went wide at the litany of sailor-y swears, raising a hand and about to cut in and ask Old Salt about a few extra imaginative ones he'd already spewed when Okami raised a brow at her, for once disapproving of his former pupil's curiosity. Sheepish, Irse cleared her throat, crossing her arms and wagging her head in feigned displeasure at the first mate's language. Captain Shar-Teel would've added a lot of extremely specific ones to the list.

To their dismay, a quick survey of the Minnow didn't bring any good news – the dry summer didn't do much for the depth in this part of the river, exposing more of the rocky shallows, and it won't be a breeze for a towing barge to ease the ship back into the water. The Captain knew exactly where to ground them.

"Where be the blasted eel-tongued scum? Ye better explain yerselves," Kagain snarled, hefting his bearded axe at the two Blackmauls.

"Believe it or not," Irse said with a nervy grin, hands up. "I had absolutely nothing to do with this."

Daley did the explaining. When he mentioned the bit about the magical missiles, Okami turned to the elf with a fretful expression.

Hoping to allay his worry, Irse wagged her head dismissively, whispering, "Yeah, stupid wands. I hate them, too."

Upon hearing of the Captain's stunt and his having conveniently teleported out of their grasp, Kagain roared and stomped at the earth.

"Hells take you, Havarian!" he raged then savagely rounded on the elf. "This all be yer fault, ya witless knife-ear! Why din't ye get to that cur faster an' skewered 'im?"

Her jaw dropped at the blame, heated blood rushing up her temples. The nerve! "My fault? Well pardon me, why didn't you play nice and tell him to not betray us?"

"What be ye sayin'? Dimwit leaf-head, waste of coin!"

"Coin, you said? As if you'd let go of any, claw-fisted coal brain!"

The others edged away while Okami inched forward, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Dumb faefolk be only good fer dirt ta feed the trees yer huggin'!" Kagain pointed his axe at the ground.

"There's nothing to hug anymore 'cause my People already shoved those trees all the way up your spuddy backsides!" Irse jabbed and swirled a stiff finger up in the air.

"Cease this instant, the two of you!" Okami chided sharply, a firm hand outstretched between them.

Startled, elf and dwarf stared at the blacksmith.

"Pointless bickering accomplishes nothing other than allow Havarian to succeed in his plot," Okami rebuked them. "And this foolishness is helping him enough."

Shamed, elf and dwarf backed off but not without glowering at each other again. Awkward silence hung in the air for a while until their guest approached the fire, pulling back his cowl as he addressed Kagain. The flamelight cast shadows on his patrician face, made harsher by his unconcealed displeasure.

"I take frightful exception to this heinous delay. Where is the Captain?"

"Master Eddard," Kagain rumbled respectfully, though stiff and clearly forced. "The Captain, whom yer father an' friends so direly imposed on me, just sabotaged our ship an' disappeared."

"Is that supposed to be my problem?" the young lord snapped.

Kagain ground his jaw, a surprising paragon of longsuffering. "'Tis a setback, true, but ye will get to the Gate by hook or crook, my men an' I will see to it. Now, ye must stay low." The dwarf gestured to the woods, trees and brushes lining the banks. "This be the weald o' Sharp Teeth an' not a fine place ta be not e'en in daylight. Soon as light permittin', we make to follow the shore westwards. Cover as much ground ta get sooner to the Crossing."

"On foot, I presume," Eddard protested. "What of the iron and weapons then? Leaving any of it behind is unacceptable. Have you an inkling how much it cost my family's coffers just so Father could donate all of it to arm the Fist at the border? Our name is at stake here - if this expedition fails, so help me, the consequences to you and your enterprise will be more than the loss of gold and your contract."

A growl escaped Kagain's throat, so low only elven ears might hear. Irse winced. Having dealt before with noblefolk and their charming ways, she didn't envy the dwarf and his current position.

"Of course, m' lord, as ye wish," Kagain replied, voice pitched with grudging pleasantry. He hollered at everyone to assemble by him. "Hear me, an' none be bellyachin'! All will haul as much as ye can o' the cargo, in yer arms and on yer backs if ye have to, between yer legs too 'cause none o' ye sods got the 'nads anyways!"

Angry murmurs went around the group and the dwarf spat in the fire. "Flop-knees! Get yer spineless backs to work!"

As everyone else walked sullenly back to the ship, Okami approached and conferred with Kagain.

"We cannot tarry here," the blacksmith said, voice grave in warning. "Havarian sent a beacon. Whoever is lying in wait for that signal will be upon us in no time. It is best we move now while the night gives its cover."

"He's right, Mister Kagain. The dark shouldn't be a problem for you and me. Maybe I can take one of the lads with me to scout ahead and then we'll also keep at the rear just to be sure no one's tailing after us," Irse added. Hopefully, for all the gold clinking in his ears, the dwarf might listen, just this once.

Kagain grit his teeth, eyes darting from blacksmith to elf. The pair exchanged tense glances, both expecting their employer to explode in a fountain of curses for their daring presumption. Instead, the dwarf sighed, deep and defeated, betraying his years and frustration. Then in a flicker, his eyes hardened once more.

"If only it'd take a mite to hack down that useless ship an' be throwin' all the blasted iron and its owner into the river, then aye, we shoulda' be scrammin' right about now," he said in a rough whisper. Even so, Lord Eddard wouldn't have heard a thing, preoccupied with the more noble task of complaining loudly and heeding his manservant's florid fawning.

"But as it stands, my own neck be on the block. Find me a way ta get the cargo out an' walkin' in a blink. Two hours, we march."

Irse exhaled, relieved. At the very least, Kagain saw the danger as well. Okami acknowledged the command with a quick nod while she flashed a mock salute. The pair hasted after the others to gather and plan the most efficient and speedy approach over this new hurdle.

Having quickly recovered, Old Salt took charge of the hauling operations, directing the sailors and Blackmauls to form a human chain to remove the bagged ore and weapons out of the now leaking and teetering hold, gathering them outside in piles. Meanwhile, Okami and his former apprentice worked with some to hack off planks and remove the ropes and sails from the Minnow to fashion makeshift litters to bear their new burdens.

It should have only been a couple of hours, but laboring made it feel more like an entire day. And yet through her tasks, Irse found herself grinning, even whistling aloud.

"Whichever fool be findin' cheer in this thrice-blasted debacle, I be splittin' yer lip and knottin' yer soddin' pipes if ye don't stuff it!" Kagain yelled by the fire.

Scrunching her shoulders, the elf exchanged guilty smirks with the others, while Okami rolled his eyes.

Oddly and despite the circumstances, doing worthwhile work seemed to right the world again. Things might sometimes turn out crooked, but just as always, nothing a bit of hammering and a drop of elbow grease couldn't fix, right?

Done with hewing her share of wood, Irse paused, seeing her former mentor in the middle of demonstrating how to tie and secure the tarp around the poles for their litters. This time, his new student was a rookie Blackmaul, a meek and trembling lass who earlier confided to Irse of her apprehension at venturing out of her home village of Easting.

Earlier, the girl had a wee little hysterical breakdown while awaiting her turn at climbing out the hatch, in tears at being stranded in the dark, jeered at by the others and called a mewling tenderfoot bumbling way in over her head.

Fortunately, Okami's gentle instruction seemed to calm the young Blackmaul easily. Having observed the lesson quietly and done her work correctly, she received some simple words of encouragement from the blacksmith. Her shoulders now squared with newfound confidence, the Easting girl looked up and locked eyes with Irse, beaming a hopeful grin at the elf who nodded and shot her a thumbs-up in return.

Oddly and pleasantly, Irse felt like sharing in the other girl's pride and accomplishment, small and insignificant it may seem to the world. Besides, not too long ago she herself walked in the same timid shoes, trusting only in her Teacher to lead through the path whilst they made the journey together. Through the sourest pickles, accidentally hammered fingers, singed aprons, cuts and scrapes and bruises and all.

Still watching him, hunger and weariness all forgotten, Irse couldn't help but smile, the cold of moondark dispelled by a small promising warmth in her heart.

After all, gods willing, this whole thing might still turn out to be a picnic.

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