.

.

.

Dearest Readers, may the roads always be open and welcoming beneath your feet.

.

THE HIDDEN SWORD

Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 47: Retread the Road

.

First things first.

Irse grabbed at her disheveled mop and furiously combed through each strand before finally flicking them over her shoulder, whistling in relief. Nope, no gray on her head yet. Proof that she hadn't been gone for hundreds of years like in the yarns often spun to scare village children from venturing into the woods alone - of hapless folk taken away or put to sleep by tricksy pixies, only to return or awaken centuries later to find everything changed, families and friends all gone.

Though if the same had happened to her but in the span of a mere several decades? Enough time for everyone she ever cared for to have passed on in the afterlife, leaving this elf to continue alone and forgotten. Irse wrangled her hair, groaning as she spun and shuffled around. Such cruel fate, why why why…

And then she stepped on a recently dismembered arm.

Only recently torn, not yet bleached like old bone, still stained and bearing bits of ragged flesh and leather. Trail marks led to where it had been dug up and dragged over perhaps by wolves, where a cloud of flies hovered above the disturbed pit several paces away. Curious and covering her nose, she swatted at the pesky bugs and peered into the wide but shallow grave. Though already ravaged by the elements and scavengers and maggots, none of them resembled anyone she knew. Instead, by their garb and what remained of their faces and effects, these were the bandits they fought last night. Irse uncovered her mouth and let out a whoop of relief, fist in the air, then coughed and wheezed at the stench.

Wait, dead only since last night? No, these corpses weren't fresh, perhaps more than a day dead at most. Not hard to tell at all, thanks to having seen what village hunters and farmers at home liked to show to little children for sport and learning, namely days-old dead game, or recently deceased livestock.

Either of two things must have happened – Okami somehow broke free of the magical web and took them down all on his own, or Kagain and his men decided to cease quibbling in their breeches and came to his aid. Either way, someone cared enough to bury them – these brigands who now lay in a shallow grave, the sight of it weaving into another memory of years ago, a remembrance of bodies piled atop a burning pyre. Lips quirking with cold satisfaction, Irse kicked a pile of dirt over the edge and walked away.

Meticulously she scoured the area, searching, poking at the underbrush, even under fallen logs. The trench and its immediate surroundings showed no signs of worse violence, no other trace of Okami and the others. Even her katana, tossed aside and forgotten in the haste of battle, likewise gone and probably taken. Hordes of possibilities stampeded through the mind, but the heart clung to only one hope. Alive, they must be alive and have fled to safety!

Against a tree she leaned, knees folding in ease as Irse slid down to sit on her haunches. Sunlight streamed through the leaves above, bright and harsh and stinging in its heat, a stray beam blinding and making her squint. Must be midday now. But how long have they been gone, where did they go, why leave her behind? Irse bobbed her head in quiet understanding. Doubtless, they must have headed for the Gate. And why not? After all, they still have a mission – to keep Lord Eddard from kicking the gilded bucket, to bring him back alive and in one highborn piece.

A hand strayed unconsciously to the Kogitsune, fingers tapping on the scabbard in step with Irse's whirling thoughts. Clearly, Okami didn't stay to wait for her. Had their places been switched, she on the other hand would've set up camp right here, hope for the best in finding the nearest fruit tree or trapping the fattest rabbit for sustenance, straying nowhere until he popped right back in front of her. Even if Kagain orders her to leave with them? Refuse to obey and stay behind instead, even at the cost of duty? A small spot in her heart grinned guiltily, knowing her answer to the question would be too quick, too easy.

But surely Okami has his reasons, hopefully not from being grievously injured, hopefully merely compelled by obligation and altruism to continue assisting their hard-pressed group. On the bright side, this meant he still moved in the company of other fighting men, the odds of his survival upped like a dice kissed by Tymora herself.

Heartened, Irse rose to her feet, brushing at her sides and haunches. No use moping here when she could be marching now for the Gate. She paused, scratching at the chin. But what if they had bumped into more bandits? Perhaps this time, the gods thought it no trouble to let their beleaguered band reach the city without a hitch.

All settled then, to Baldur's Gate she must fly!

"Let's go," she chirped, patting the Kogitsune at her side.

.

.

Irse leaped down, feet stomping at the planks with eager thumps. She turned around and waved her thanks at the captain and his crew – a kindly old fisherman and his gaggle of mangy cats. Those two days of travel had been the longest in her life – an uneventful trip aboard a skiff which she had flagged down along the riverbank and gained passage with some of her coin and an offer to steer with the pike pole every now and then.

The East Docks of Baldur's Gate. Irse looked around, remembering the smells more than the sights. And remembering her last brush with thieves, the elf protectively clasped the tachi and shielded her belt pouch which bore one last important object to her – the piece of adamantine given back by the blacksmith. On the other hand, no one seemed to pay any notice to the young elf despite her grubby appearance, evidently outdone by most of the Gate's denizens swamping the port.

Nothing new to see and no time to waste, no space to gawk, for now her sole purpose was only to find the Blackmaul base. Through the crowd she pushed in haste, sure of her steps. How did she know the way? Irse had asked one of the veterans for directions to their office in Baldur's Gate, idle time on the Minnow wisely spent memorizing the route. Best to be on the ready, especially with the last brush with Lower City folk who once gave enough clashing directions to send her to one of the layers of the Abyss.

True to instructions, the Blackmaul headquarters stood exactly where it should – a low and humble brick building crammed between a decrepit tallhouse and a boarded-up shop whose former wares could no longer be discerned upon its faded sign. Finding the door ajar, the elf walked in.

Irse tilted her head, eyebrow raised. Nothing but empty darkness greeted her, none welcomed her arrival other than overturned chairs, cabinets thrown wide open, logbooks and papers strewn all over the floor which sported a hole from where a plank had been pulled out. Back in their Iriaebor office, the clerk Squard may have been the most uncaring of Kagain's cogs, but at least he never left this much mess. Baffled, she gazed around before stepping outside, gawking up at the lintel. Correct signpost, but wrong building?

"Irse," someone hissed in an urgent whisper.

She turned to the source, eyes broadening. "Daley!"

But the relieved smile on her face fell to a baffled blank as the young man wobbled towards her, leaning on a cane, his right shoulder and arm bandaged and in a sling. Yet the puzzlement over his injuries and the current state of the Blackmaul office were overshadowed by the most important question of all.

"Where is he?"

Daley didn't ask who she meant, clearly reading her mind, but kept his mouth in a tight line, eyes shifting around, as if expecting every passerby to suddenly jump on them. "Mister Okami's not with me right now, but he's alive. I'll tell you everything, but not out here, and not in there," he murmured, head canting towards the yawning door.

Thank Tethrin. Irse eased and exhaled. Though still brimming with more questions, the elf nodded her assent, allowing herself to be led through the streets until they reached a nondescript tavern. The pair slipped inside and headed straight for one of the innermost booths where Daley continued to fidget, glancing around. Irse watched him in unnerved silence, finally butting in a word when he finally loosened up and leaned back in his chair.

"You said he's alive, so where is he now?" She tapped on the table with an impatient knuckle. "And what happened to you? To everyone?"

Daley hurriedly gestured at a serving girl for their meal before eyeing the elf with evident relief. "You're all right, thank the gods. Much as I'm itching to know just where in Toril you've been, yeah, first thing's first. Like I said, Mister Okami's alive and well, at least when I last saw him before he stayed behind to look for you."

No. Irse sagged in her seat. Daley bobbed his head, eyes downcast. He and Easlie had offered to accompany him in his search, but Okami refused, insisting they leave with the others. Not a surprise for him to turn down help and try to do this on his own, what with Daley's less than hearty condition and Easlie's inexperience. His mind may be a puzzle to her at times, but in instances like this, the blacksmith proved easier to read than an open tome slapped on her nose.

And then something hit her, a realization. "What day is today?" she demanded.

Daley told her, and Irse sputtered at his answer. She had been gone for nearly a tenday before her return! Yet it had only felt like a quarter of a candle in that strange world.

"Where did you go anyway?" Daley asked, regarding the elf before him with bewilderment.

Irse told him of how they found the bandits and the ensuing fight, how she somehow ended up in that weird place and got back, and the travel to the city. Oh, why did everything fall into such a pot of botched up stew? This whole time she dallied like a dazed idiot in some fairy forest, while Okami waited alone for days, burying the dead bandits before finally deciding to seek her elsewhere in the woods. With both palms Irse scrubbed her face and groaned, resting both elbows on the table.

"Mystery solved, I guess," Daley said, sighing. "You ought to know what happened with the rest of us after you disappeared."

He recounted how after what seemed like forever waiting in the ditch, Easlie dropped in all wild-eyed and gibbering about more of the bandits coming but how the pair were holding them off on their own.

"Not ashamed to say it, we all thought she's one scared little mouse the whole time up until the crash," Daley said. "And then she gets up and draws her sword and tells Mister Kagain right to his nose that we should all help you and Mister Okami."

A small crook of a smile crept on Irse's face. Bless the kid and her nosey little heart. And then a warm fuzz filled her chest as Daley went on to say how all in the group got on their feet as one, egging their boss to start wagging his axe for real. Even Daley who already took an arrow in his shoulder wouldn't dare sit this one out.

"Everyone wanted to come, except Lord Eddard."

For the man had insisted they all make a run for it while the bandits were occupied. Irse snorted at the revelation. Not a surprise. But as for Kagain? Who knew what wheels suddenly began rolling in the old dwarf's head for he ordered one of his veterans and those unable to hold a sword to watch over Eddard, then hefted his bearded axe and barked at everyone still fit and able to follow him over the ridge. Perhaps he had long grown weary of groveling and running, thinking how more of their enemies might be lying in wait and how better then to take out the closest foe while they can.

"You should've seen us," Daley said, voice hushed with awe. "Even the rookies and Old Salt with his crew all fired up. We scrambled over the gorge and charged like our very own army, and we were coming for you two."

Irse beamed at his words, more so at hearing how they came upon the bandits now freed from the magical web and about to surround Okami. How glorious it must have been, the blacksmith suddenly no longer on his own as his comrades all rushed in from behind to succor him. They all made short work of the remaining enemies and not a single soul lost in the endeavor, though some of them didn't exactly emerge unscathed, Daley said with a grin, gesturing to his leg, blaming his already ruined shoulder.

Companions slaughtered and outnumbered, suddenly beset on all sides by vengeful mercenaries and sailors all of whom unitedly bludgeoned and chipped at the magical stone covering his skin then joined by the dwarf whose bearded axe surely possessed some mild enchantment which finally shattered his protection… the mage threw down his staff and surrendered.

"Probably wished he hadn't," Daley said with a smirk.

For Kagain relished trying to make the man talk, having one of the Blackmauls bind his hands then hold him up, the dwarf switching between a punch in the gut and squeezing his shoulder wound. Disturbed by his screams and at the sight, some had retreated to a good distance and tried to feign cheery talk among themselves. Hard to tell though if the blacksmith found the whole thing distasteful, for Dailey said he merely stared coldly at the man the whole time.

"I wasn't sure who I'm more worried for. Old Kagain doing those things to the mage, or the stone-hard look on Mister Okami's face like he could just up and slice the fellow throat-to-navel if he didn't talk," Daley confided with a shudder.

Asked on who ordered the attack on Eddard, the wizard claimed he knew no name beyond his fellow grunts and a troop leader who never spoke of their employers' true nature. Often his companions debated among themselves if they were under the heel of the Zhentarim or the Amnians, yet the mage admitted to paying no heed to such talk. So long as coin from raiding caravans flowed faster than from eking out a dull life as a hedge wizard in some backwater village, he was more than content with following orders. Eventually, the man did say something useful, revealing that another squad positioned itself at least a day's march to the west, tasked with cutting off the Blackmauls should they escape his group. After that, he begged to be let go, insisting he had nothing more to give them and how on his own he shouldn't be a threat to anyone.

And then Okami had simply asked him – Where is she?

"I swear by the gods, the whole forest went cold and quiet right then, " Daley confessed.

Irse shrank in her seat, the Kogitsune suddenly cumbersome and heavy on her lap. Why couldn't she have jumped back right then, popped out of the air and landed heel first on the evil wizard's stupid head? Getting smacked with a rolled-up map afterwards would've been fine if it meant she didn't make anyone worry about her this much. But did the mage give them answers? No idea how she vanished without a trace, the wizard had answered dismissively.

"Then Kagain said if that's the case then we might as well kill him for being useless anyways," Daley added.

Thrown to the ground and seeing the dwarf grip his axe with glee, the wizard started blubbering and begging for his life. Wait wait wait, the poor sod screeched, he'd been a tad too hasty in his guess. Had they heard of the magical plane where the fey folk reside?

Of course, none of them knew of such, Kagain having even less of an interest in the idea of a world where extra fancy poncy knife-ears frolicked. The wizard went on to explain how he once heard tales of people getting lost in the woods, said to have ended up in the world of the feyfolk only to return years later, not having aged a single day. Perhaps the same had happened to the elf, he hopefully supposed. However, they say the faerie plane could open many doors in any location at any time, often hidden to mortals. In other words, nothing guaranteed if a person who fell into such portal would return to the same spot. Hearing this, Irse twisted in her seat, stomach tensing at the growing regret. No wonder Okami wasn't there anymore when she got back. He must have left to scour the forest in the hopes of finding her or anything passing for a gateway to that other world.

Done with their interrogation, Kagain ordered another Blackmaul to drag the mage out of his sight and watch over him while they huddled and planned their next move. Luckily for the wizard, despite obviously seething in fury, the blacksmith still recommended for their prisoner to be taken alive with them to the Gate.

"Then wouldn't you know it, Mister-I'm-Too-Important-For-Everything barges in like some great general," Daley muttered.

Not difficult to guess the source of his grousing, seeing as how he had been among those who accompanied the young noble in Berdusk. Of course, with the situation now under control, Eddard puffed himself up whilst twirling a shiny clean bejeweled rapier and demanded why he had been denied the glory of leading the charge seeing as how the Silvershields had been warriors and leaders of renown. To their surprise and disappointment, Kagain only approached the young lord with a polite admonishment of how he should've stayed put with his bodyguards. Irse smirked at the thought. Seems like gold can indeed buy manners and respect, even if undeserved.

The Blackmaul guarding the mage had noticed his charge murmuring something under his breath, grabbed him by his collar, shaking to shut him up. Then they heard a strange popping sound, and the wizard had suddenly broken free of his bonds, clearly having cast a cantrip to untie any knot. But just as his guard tackled him, the mage slid a dart out of his sleeve and hurled it at Eddard.

"He missed, didn't he," Irse guessed. "Or at least got the idiot lord in the knee."

"Oh he did, right by the kneecap. Later on, Mister Kagain checked and said it looked like one of those enchanted darts he'd seen before."

"Prince Scepter-High-Up-His-Butt must've been really mad," Irse said with a snicker.

"Yeah, he did get angry. For a good while," Daley confirmed. "And then he died."

What. Irse scowled, staring wide-eyed. "How in Toril does one die from a dart in the knee?"

How? By hopping around, smacking at the filthy common hands of anyone who tried to touch him, cursing everyone and threatening them with prison for their incompetence, stupidly pretending to be strong and walk it off, tripping, then tumbling and breaking his neck on a fallen log.

Daley scratched the back of his head, eyes darting sideways in embarrassment. Blinking, the elf slumped in her chair, grimacing. Wonderful, just wonderful. Everyone in their group survived except for the one person they were supposed to bring back alive. What are the odds, Irse wondered, casting a suspicious eye up at the rafters above their heads.

But things ought to be easy, right? Drag the wizard and his sorry bunched-up robes along with them, have some mage or priest cast their lie-catching spells, get a confession, haul in the big bad bandit bosses. Nobody in their group gets punished for this failure and they can all carry on with their merry work and still get paid.

"Problem solved," Irse cheered, smacking and rubbing her palms. All in time for supper, too.

"We thought so, and we did just that," Daley replied, shifting in his seat. "But what the man said is making me think twice if we've done the right thing in coming here at all."

In the commotion, the wizard tried to get away, clearly banking on the distraction he created but to no avail. He was easily brought down by a Blackmaul, then beaten and kicked by another for his effort. One would expect the man to gloat over the demise of the Grand Duke's son by his hand, albeit indirectly, but Kagain's pronouncement of his being taken to the Gate for interrogation and to answer for Eddard's death had him suddenly screaming and begging like a lunatic. For he and his fellows have been warned against talking to the Fist because their leaders, whoever those were, would know.

"He said – better for him to die right then and there rather than all the nasty messed up things he'd seen done to captured deserters," Daley recounted.

Indeed, how cruel. Even with his success in getting the young Silvershield killed, the man knew he counted as nothing more than a loose end to his employers if he were taken alive by authorities. Irse furrowed her brows, eyes darting in suspicion around her. Their leaders would know of his capture and being in the Fist's custody still spelled certain death. Could the bandits have informants in the City, or worse, within the Fist? Not an impossibility to find a corrupt law enforcer – it's always gold or threats, offers not many could refuse.

"But how did you avoid the others, the ones the wizard said were waiting to cut us off?"

The gods chose to smile down on their wretched heads for once. They had gathered at the shoreline to clean their wounds when a west-bound barge came upon them, its skipper agreeing to take the harried group all the way to the Gate in exchange for coin. Upon arrival at the city, Kagain told everyone to rest up wherever they might find shelter and await further orders while he sorted things out.

"I went to one of them chapels for these," Daley said, nodding over his injuries. "But they started quoting their price in gold and I just about said, nope, the gods just better not drop an anchor on me and I'll be fine. Paid some back-alley herbal hack to patch me up for less, now all I need to do is wait until I'm all good again."

Irse couldn't help but grin at her friend's frugality. Everyone knew he still has family in Iriaebor – orphaned with siblings too young to ply their own trade in the world, all in the care of a widowed grandmother. Daley joined the Blackmauls a couple of years before Irse and Okami arrived in the city. He gamely shrugged off being the butt of jests for wasting his youth not in women and wine, but in working himself thin. Always showing up for deployment regardless of health and convenience, asking to be assigned in as many trips humanly squeezable within traveling seasons, just to send all his coin home.

And now, even at the risk of losing arm and limb, he still chose to scrimp on his healing just to save something for someone else. Awkwardly, she ran a finger over her brow where the faintest pale sliver, almost invisible, lined the skin where a slimy bard's scimitar once made contact. Still, Okami never noticing anything made them the best handful of gold pieces she had ever spent. No regrets there, none indeed.

Then after about a day of waiting, Daley decided to drop by the Blackmaul office only to find Kagain pulling out drawers and prying off a section of the floorboards to haul up from beneath a rusty till, no doubt filled with squirreled wealth.

"Let me guess," Irse interjected dryly. "The Grand Duke isn't happy with what happened."

Not happy didn't even begin to describe the mess they were in. Their job had been to bring Eddard back warm and breathing, not with a busted knee and cold stiff as a doornail, and somehow it all ended in a stinking disaster. A friend in the Fist tipped off the dwarf to his impending arrest for allegedly conspiring with the bandits to sabotage the mission. Apparently, his testimony and that of the manservant's, Havarian's treachery, the capture of the bandit mage, and return of Eddard's body all mattered squat to the Grand Duke. Kagain advised Daley to make himself scarce if he knew what was good for him, then the dwarf walked out the door and promptly disappeared. Unjust it may all be, could anyone blame him for choosing to flee after they decided to unceremoniously throw him under the carriage?

From then on, Daley didn't dare seek out the other Blackmauls. Instead, he stayed in the city, waiting to recover, taking on easy temporary employment such as watching over cargo in a warehouse. As soon as he could gather enough coin, he might travel north to Waterdeep or elsewhere to find better living. He mostly avoided the Blackmaul office, though occasionally sneaking a peek to see what might happen and true enough he found the elf there today.

Irse wagged her head. Aye, what a muddle. How tempting it felt right then to stand up and march over to the Grand Dukes and the Fist, knock their wet sacked heads together, then haul them up their sorry bottoms to finally do something about the whole mess. As much as it galled her - the betrayal, the failure, the impunity of those who brought this upon them, however nothing more can be done.

After all, what power did she and her fellow commonfolk have in this world to effect any great change at all?

At least they still have their lives, something they ought to be thanking the gods in the days to come. The only thing of importance now would be to find her former mentor. But where in all this great wilderness of the Sword Coast should she start searching? The thought of him out there alone wrenched her stomach into twists.

"What if he ran into more bandits? Or monsters?" she lamented.

Or even worse and just as plentiful in the woods… nymphs and dryads? Cruel clever creatures luring men with their wondrous wiles to eat them alive, like one would ravish an entire leg of ham!

"Gah! That's it, I'm going out there now!" Irse slammed a fist on the table and made to rise, grasping the Kogitsune in one hand. A few patrons threw startled glances at them, but Daley tugged at her sleeve before she could draw the sword on impulse.

"Calm down. I'm sure he knows what he's doing and he can take care of himself," he reassured her, but the elf stubbornly refused to be seated. "And I just ordered grub for us both, at least wait until we fill our bellies before we make our next move?"

Irse paused, nodding in calm compliance, then sat down once more. While they waited for their meal, Daley fed her with news and none of it appetizing. Eventually, Eddard's death was made known to all, though the cause had been hushed, gossips claiming a sudden illness incurable by the will of the gods, or some fatal accident. They say his father the Grand Duke appeared terribly heartbroken, having withdrawn from the public eye. Quicker than a corpse gone cold, rumors began circulating in every tavern about Entar Silvershield possibly stepping down, unable to handle this grievous loss. An unsettling contradiction given how all knew him to be a man of fortitude, having ruled the Gate with the other Grand Dukes through decades and the city's ups and downs.

Meanwhile, word has been going around in the docks of the large trading costers having ceased plying the dangerous Coast Way altogether though the merchant houses denied it themselves, perhaps to avoid panic among the commoners. The Blacktalons of Iriaebor who used to provide their services suddenly pulled out of the Gate, claiming to have been appropriated by their patron city for protection should hostilities with Amn break out and spill over to the Vale. Now all that's left were independent mercenary operators, but their resources just seemed too scant against the growing bandit menace. Not even the humble folk were being spared now – traveling tinkerers, peddlers and even farmers braving the road to sell their produce often told of harassment by brigands. Only the most desperate might hope to dare the journey. For now, more of trade might come in by water or via north, but for as long as Nashkel continued to spit out bad iron, then things weren't looking up either way.

"And then wouldn't you know it, some lips start flapping of Amn planning to bar the way for ships coming from south and of Waterdeep and everyone else in the north likely to hike their prices if they see the Gate has no choice other than starve," Daley said derisively.

Irse gazed around the tavern, observing the other patrons, carrying on eating and drinking and laughing and arguing over some business at the docks or the market. Perhaps uncaring and unaffected, thinking these misfortunes touched only the rulers and the wealthy. Or behind those faces hid fear, simmering and covered with a smile like the lid of a pot, waiting to boil over and spill to scald the ground.

After what seemed like an eternity, their meal finally arrived. Day-old baitfish poached with seaweed, hard-crust nutbread rolls swimming in thick organ meat gravy, and pickled squid. She swiped at her tankard and downed the ale in one gulp, then spewed its contents to the side.

"Why are we drinking the Sea of Swords?" she rasped, wiping at her mouth and nose. "Did they brew this with water from the harbor?"

"So it's your first taste of sea ale," Daley sniggered and casually quaffed his own serving. "You'll get used to it."

Doubtful. Irse made a wry face, shivering at the lingering brininess on her tongue before stabbing a fork into a squid ring. Might as well dig in and enjoy the sea's bounty.

.

.

Right after their meal, the two spent the entire day seeking out trackers and woodsmen among the taverns in the Docks and the Lower City, anyone who might help in navigating the wilderness of the Sword Coast. They were answered with either ridiculously costly hiring fees for having to brave the dangerously wild and untamed Cloakwood or Sharp Teeth, if not with scorn for being crazy enough to go out there where bandits and monsters infested any spot on the realms not fenced within a city.

Daley suggested they stay a few more days in the Gate, but Irse stoutly refused. He had already done enough, she pointed out, going as far as chipping in his own coin for her own room tonight at an inn. And besides, the sooner they could set out, the sooner they might find Okami. The pair scoured the markets, searching for stores to purchase traveling gear, finding one whose prices didn't send them flying out of the door.

"Whoops," Daley exclaimed. A sheathed sword he picked off a rack slipped from his left hand and clattered at his feet. Awkwardly he tried to bend down but the elf beat him to it.

Irse picked it up, handing it back hilt facing him, clicking her tongue. "Might be better if I do this by myself."

Grunting, Daley inelegantly adjusted his baldric, unable to hide his irritation at having to switch sides given the state of his sword hand. "You know I'll heal in a couple of tendays."

"Until then?"

"I'll just stand still and whack our enemies with my cane." Daley attempted a cocky smile which quickly dampened under Irse's unyielding glare. "Oh, come now. You don't expect me to let you go out there on your own, do you?"

Irse sadly shook her head. "Go home. Find work that will let you live to see your little sisters' grandchildren. Besides, how will your nana take it when she hears you ran off with an elf in the wilderness in bandit-infested country?"

"Well, if you know my Nana, she'd hunt us up and down the Coast and give your good ear a bad pinching." He laughed, jokingly twisting his own while Irse reached over and swatted at his hand good-naturedly. "Won't kill me to take advice from someone who'll outlive me, right?"

Daley dug into his pocket. Seeing what he intended to do, Irse raised a hand to bar him, but he wagged his head and thrust a pouch at her. "Here, and don't refuse. You needn't worry because I still have some for myself and soon I'll save enough for passage home. 'Tis the least I can do to help."

Irse accepted the gifted coin with a humble smile. They put it all to good use - for a backpack, a bedroll, a mess kit, tinderbox, torches, waterskin, rope, and an oiled cloak all acquired on the cheap. Okami would have chided her for skimping on the quality of her gear, but such were an absolute necessity – how else could she afford twice the amount of provisions? Daley saved her the trouble of buying an extra sack for rations by demonstrating his admirable skills in wadding everything in just one bag. She hefted the pack over her shoulder, wriggling and testing its weight on the back.

"Are you sure I don't need another satchel or two for more food? I still have coin left and both of my hands are still free," Irse needled him, waving her palms and grinning expectantly at his skeptical expression.

.

.

Morning of the follow day, Irse bid farewell to her fellow Blackmaul with a promise to visit him and his family in Iriaebor when all of this has settled. While marching towards Wyrm's Crossing, the elf went over the plan in her head – travel the Coast Way, at random venture into the woods but not stray too far from the road, ask every single soul she might meet along the way if perhaps they might have bumped into a Kozakuran looking like he'd lost a cub who might sneak into too many chicken coops and set one on fire. If her coin proved sufficient, perhaps a few days stay at the Friendly Arm Inn could be afforded to gather any news, perhaps even find a tracker among the folk there. If that doesn't work, then have another try at the road until she reaches Beregost. There, find a tracker, or even Kagain if the dwarf thought it smart to slip over the border and into Amn, away from the reach of the Fist.

Indeed, find Kagain and demand backpay.

Irse frowned. Between here and Beregost lay her former home. The memory of its towers and walls sent an anxious twinge in her gut but she waved it all away from her thoughts.

When she finds herself at the crossroads again, then she will know what to do.

Approaching the massive gatehouse, Irse gazed around at the crowd. Only a few like her were leaving the city, but most had the look of farming and herding folk, perhaps returning to their homesteads. More people poured in than out beneath the portcullis, and for a moment, the approaching mob seemed to swell towards her, like a great and roaring tide. A sheard of doubt pricked at her heart, both feet suddenly hindered by unseen leaden weights. Could she truly do this by herself? Wouldn't Okami prefer she stay in the City, safe and shielded until he eventually finds his way to her?

But then along with the sea of humanity streaming past her, there drifted a remembrance of a blacksmith and his apprentice entering the gate in a farmer's cart. Her mind's eye followed them until they disappeared over the cobbled street until she could no longer hear the echo of a young elf's excited questions and her mentor's kind answers.

No more questions, no more doubts. With a forceful exhale, Irse leaned in and pushed through the crowds, stopping for none until she cleared the bridge and put a foot down upon the grassy trail leading to the Coastway. Pack slung over her shoulder, the elf squared her jaw and nodded to herself as she set her face towards south.

"Let's go," she declared with a determined grin, glancing down at the Kogitsune and tapping at its pommel as it were the snout of an eager pup looking up at its master.

Once more upon the road she left behind years ago, Irse took her first step.

.

End of Book One: From the Earth

Up next… Book Two: Wandering Water

.

Scribbles on the economics of temple healing and resurrections:

True, in-game temple healing costs a mere fifty gold pieces minimum. But considering currency exchange rates around 1367DR were pegged at one gold piece to ten silvers or one hundred coppers, you have a commoner's standard daily wage at a silver piece (i.e. can even be lower), a caravan guard's minimum wage of at least one gold piece per day, factoring meals and other needs, then one can understand Daley's decision to instead slap on a poultice and pray not to die of infection tomorrow. Or my economics may be off, I dunno, my sense of inflation is still stuck in the Second Age and I'm complaining like an old buzzard at the grocery aisle over potato chips of my childhood suddenly priced more than a dragon's hoard.

But resurrection! A busted knee shouldn't prevent Eddard from being brought back, right? In-game, resurrection's quick and eventually cheap. However, lore wise, it's pretty expensive. Only priests way up the hierarchy were powerful enough to cast the spell, souls are usually already happier in their eventual destination and might not appreciate being recalled from the afterlife party, and the spell component is prohibitively pricey (a diamond, and if I were the casting cleric, I'd also require magically self-refilling bags of Coffee Crisps and Reese Peanut Butter Cups and a self-refilling pot of coffee). A forum somewhere mentioned nobles and rulers (specifically Cormyr and Waterdeep IRRC) have laws against resurrecting dead family because doing so messes up the succession line. Quite reasonable to assume the same applies to most noble folk in Faerun. Sorry, Eddard, but your survival also prevents me from simplifying some planned plot digressions. (^▽^;)

Sea ale. Well, have you ever accidentally put iodized salt in your coffee? *shudders*

.