Chapter 17: Chapter 15

An hour later, the foursome retreated upstairs for some rest. At the end of the hallway, Theron entered the room he shared with Kael while the warrior conversed with Elara and planned out their meeting times. They worked out a schedule where only one at a time would ever be downstairs, retrieving meals for the others to reduce the risk of being spotted. With the plan set, Elara entered her room but Liriel did not follow. She had carried Eya's forgotten quarterstaff upstairs and gestured across the hall.

"I'm going to go drop this off, be in in a minute." Elara just nodded wearily and patted her on the shoulder before closing the door.

The rogue waited a ten-count before quietly approaching Eya's door. She leaned one long ear against the door, but heard nothing. She gently knocked, just loud enough that if the cleric was awake she would hear it. When no response came, Liriel reached back under her belt and retrieved a thin pick.

The locks in the Ebontide were rudimentary at best, clearly not meant for high-security. The half-elf was unsurprised, these kinds of places rarely cared that much. She was able to unlock the door in a matter of seconds without even needing a tension wrench.

Liriel reached up and dimmed the nearest hallway lamp to keep too much light from entering the room. She then gripped the doorknob and opened it, pulling up as she pushed in to keep the hinges from creaking and stepping near the door jamb to keep the floor from giving her away. As soon as the crack in the door was wide enough, she slipped silently inside and shut it.

The room was very dark. Not quite pitch black, but dark enough that she had to rely on the monochromatic vision that she had been gifted by her ancestry. Eya had draped a blanket over the window to block the daylight and Liriel quickly looked around the room, trying to take in everything at once. If the past few hours had taught her anything, it was not to take the cleric for granted. She half expected to see Eya hanging by her feet from the ceiling or crouching in the corner with glowing green eyes, ready to pounce. Nothing of the sort occurred though. In fact, Eya was no where to be seen. This room was a mirror of Liriel's across the hall. Two beds, set against the walls to the left and right, with basic nightstands at the heads. A table and chair set against the far wall under the window and a small footlocker nearby rounded out the sparse setup.

Eya's satchel, robe, and armor were there. Everything was heaped unceremoniously on the lefthand bed and an empty wicker-woven bottle lay on its side on the ground. Thoroughly confused, Liriel set the quarterstaff down with her other belongings and picked up the bottle. A cursory sniff told her it was some strong stuff, possibly this town's version of port wine. It was completely drained though and the cork was no where in sight. So either Eya was drunk off her ass and wandering the city in her underclothes, or...

Liriel looked to her right. The other bed was completely stripped of bedding. It hadn't even registered at first, but now she saw it. She crept toward the bed and a muffled murmur emerged from it. The rogue bent down to listen closer and heard the sound of ragged, shuddering breathing. She was under the bed? Liriel dropped to her hands and knees and felt sandy granules under her palms. It was difficult to make out in the low light, but there was a line of something around the bed. She sniffed her palm, then touched her tongue to it.

Salt. The bed was surrounded by a line of salt. Liriel's confusion had been ramping up by the second and when she looked up again it hit a new high. She had finally found Eya. The cleric was cocooned in her blankets, deep under the bed, and pressed up against the wall. She was shuddering, twitching, and... Whimpering?

Nope. This was the new peak of confusion. The creature that looked like it had been pulled out of Liriel's worst nightmare...was having a nightmare?

What the fuck what the fuck what the actual, ever-loving, donkey-humping FUCK?? Liriel gawked at the sight and kept trying to fit this new piece into the gigantic, screwed up jigsaw puzzle that was her perception of their healer. Every time a piece was added though, the whole puzzle shifted and distorted again and the rogue was exhausted by it.

This will make more sense after I get some sleep. She told herself. And a beer. Or five. She crept back out the way she had come, relocked the door, and returned to her own room.

•••

Eya's eyes shot open. She was tired...no, tired wasn't the word for it. She had passed tired so many days ago that the word had lost all meaning. Cold mountain air stung at every inch of her skin and burned inside her lungs. Her body was sluggish and heavy, her limbs numb from the cold but somehow also radiating pain. Her throat was parched and her stomach had been empty for so long it felt like she was eating herself from the inside. Forcing herself to look around, she realized she was in a courtyard in the dead of night, the only illumination coming from a scant few torches held by leather-armored, black-clad figures that surround her; the Madracaorai. To her left and right were a half dozen others that looked as bedraggled as she felt. Young men and women that struggled to stand and, like her, shivered in the cold mountain air clad only in the barest of filthy, tattered garments.

Looking up into the night sky, she could hardly comprehend the view through the haze in her brain. The stars were barely visible, swallowed whole by the imposing ramparts that surrounded her and the mountains that fortified them.

"The stars will not help you if you cannot focus when the Fiends come for you, child." Icy, emotionless words snapped her attention back immediately. She blinked and tried to remember who she was looking at. An older woman...a half-elf...stern eyes. Derision, no, hatred...for Eya. The Matron. Who was this woman talking to her? The Matron! Her mind snapped back at itself. Oh gods, this was the Craiceannú, she was in Duskhollow...not here, anywhere but here! She blinked and the woman had moved away, evaluating another sorry-looking woman two positions down the line to her left. Did she move? Did she see the woman move or did her mind shut down while her body stood in place?

A commotion registered to her right. One of the others...a boy. Alek? He had collapsed to the cold, packed earth. The Madracaorai were immediately around him, shouting and swearing. She could not comprehend what they were saying, it was too loud on her battered senses. His eyes were open but uncomprehending and his limbs struggled to coordinate with each other so he could lift himself again. The woman's cold voice rang out once more.

"No Fiend will pick you up to dust yourself off, Duvcanáin, and neither shall we. Get. Up." The Matron had not moved from her position down the line. In fact, she had barely turned her head to acknowledge the young man's suffering. After another moment's uncoordinated flailing, she barked a command. "Madracaorai! Demonstrate the kindness that the Nine Hells will not."

Three of the ominous figures drew their blades. Each sword was wide with the same squared-off tip. Eya felt panic rise through the fog that clouded her mind. Her mouth formed the word "No" but no sound came out. Was she dreaming? Was this a memory? Her arms moved from her sides but they were so slow and clumsy, shaking but burning from the cold. She could not even close her fingers into a fist. One Madracaora raised his sword and she perceived it as if time had slowed but then rapidly caught up. The weapon struck but did not cut the poor young man on the ground. The dark figures were hitting him with the flats of their blades.

"No..." the word finally escaped her chest, thin and reedy. Their victim's struggles to get to his feet had stopped...he was failingly trying to protect his body from the blows. "Stop...stop." Eya's voice barely reached her ears from her parched throat. She half-stepped, half-fell out of line toward the commotion.

"Back in line!" The voice behind her came from another faceless, black-clad Madracaora. It did not register in her ears. All she could see was the young man's terrified, uncomprehending eyes as he struggled to end his suffering without the awareness of how to do so. The next sound to come from Eya burned away the fog of exhaustion like an inferno.

"STOOOOP!" Her scream echoed loudly, piercing the dead of night. All the pain and rage inside her incinerated the exhaustion, the hunger, and the thirst as it spilled out of her in a roiling, green smoke. The scream became a gurgling, polyphonic howl of wrath lost in the black fire that consumed her body.

•••

When Eya awoke with a start, she immediately regretted it. Her head was pounding in time to her racing heartbeat, her joints ached, and she was convinced that she could commit a war crime for just a gulp of water. Hung over, stiff, and clammy, she clawed her way out from under the bed inch by inch. Resting after each exertion, she found the barest comfort in the cool floorboards against her cheek and had to force herself to continue every time. Finally, she looked at the salt line, swiped a gap in it, and finished emerging on unsteady feet.

Everything hurt, and the smell of the room and her underclothes...gods it was like she could taste the impurities from the wine that she had sweat out during the night. She looked up and saw that there was no daylight peeking through the edges her makeshift blackout curtain. What time was it? Had she slept all day? Staggering to the window, she pulled her blanket down and opened the shutters. The cool sea air helped immensely, but she was still woozy when she opened her eyes. No, there was no daylight, but she could tell that the sky behind the building was starting to brighten. Light's grace, she thought. At least the entire day and most of the night must have passed since she had returned to her room.

"Great job," she moaned, "when you fall off the wagon, you really put your face into it." Eya turned and haltingly approached the empty second bed. She rummaged through her satchel and pulled out two small vials, operating through half-lidded eyes and mostly by touch. With a practiced hand, she mixed them together in an all too familiar ritual, then drank the result.

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The curative went down smoothly and she sighed as the barest edge of her hangover started to ease. Eya sat down heavily on the bed to wait for the mixture to work its magic, but felt something hard under her butt. Pulling it out, she looked at her quarterstaff in confusion. With a start that brought a fresh round of throbbing to her temples, she realized she'd forgotten it downstairs. Did one of them bring it to her? How did they get in? Her door was locked, she was sure abou-

Liriel. The rogue must have picked her way in and left it. The same rogue that already didn't seem to like her very much.

"Ah...farts." She mumbled. Resigned to what happened but glad that she had the early hours to herself, Eya set about starting her morning. The first thing she needed to do was deal with the funk, they would not want to be around her like this. She removed her sleepwear and wrapped herself in her blanket. She remembered seeing a washroom at the end of the hall so she balled up her clothes and grabbed a clove-scented bottle from her satchel. Upon opening her door though, she stopped short.

At her feet was a plate covered with a cloth napkin. Puzzled, she set her bundle down and picked up the plate. Under the napkin was food...dinner food. It was cold, yes, but it instantly rewrote her priorities.

First food, then funk.

Eya hurried back inside and set her plate on the small desk at the back of the room. In the predawn darkness she stood over it, devouring the fatty corned beef and oily herbed potatoes with her bare, shaking hands. She didn't even notice that it was room temperature, in that moment this was the best meal she'd ever had in her life. She licked her fingers and went to the table by the left bed, searching for the pitcher of water provided to the room. When she found it, she drained at least half of the contents in one long, messy pull. Finally sated and with a spark of humanity clawing its way out of her foggy brain, she wiped her mouth and got up again. She tip-toed down the dim, narrow hall to the washroom after a quick peek to make sure the way was clear. Inside, she proceeded to wash herself and her underclothes in the basin provided.

When she emerged, still wrapped in the damp blanket, she was beginning to look like a semblance of her former self. After checking the hallway once more, she padded back toward her room. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Liriel exited the room she shared with Elara. Eya self-consciously hugged the bundle of damp clothes to herself and eyed her own door, still ten feet away. The blanket that was wrapped around her felt far too thin under the rogue's scrutinizing gaze and Eya unconsciously angled herself so her back was to the wall.

"Good morning." She offered with a nervous smile. "Th- thank you for getting my staff. I can't believe I forgot it down there. I'm so scattered sometimes..." She chuckled lightly, it might have been endearing and disarming to anyone else. The half-elf sniffed and her nose was flooded by the subtle, spicy scent of cloves. Liriel just narrowed her eyes and tried to fit this new, cheerfully vulnerable puzzle piece into the picture but came up empty again. She gave up and shook her head.

"Don't do that." Her voice was laden with hard-edged undertones of warning. Eya looked about nervously.

"Do what?" An innocent chuckle died in her throat under Liriel's interrogatory gaze.

"Don't say shit like that. We both know you're not scattered, not really. Stop trying to make yourself look smaller, it's pissing me off." The cleric froze, feeling more exposed than a damp blanket could be responsible for causing. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"O- okay. Thank you for getting it though." The rogue just grunted.

"Yeah, no problem." She said without moving out of Eya's way. The cleric's smile wavered.

"And for the food, I appreciate it." She clutched her damp bundle tighter.

"That was Elara." Liriel answered flatly. "We're meeting in the guys' room in an hour." She then moved toward the stairs without waiting for confirmation and Eya shuffled out of her way. "Don't be late." Rounding the bend at the top stair, she caught a glimpse of an odd sight where she'd just been standing. Eya was padding silently toward her room but backwards, keeping herself oriented toward the rogue. Liriel shook her head and muttered to herself as she descended.

"...komisches Kind."

•••

An hour later, Eya knocked lightly on the door across from hers at the end of the hall. Her hair was still a bit damp and her underclothes weren't entirely dried yet either. All told it left her more than a little uncomfortable, but still better than she had been by miles. She tugged on the high collar of her armor as she waited and when Elara opened the door she dropped her hand away, smiling brightly.

"Eya?" The ranger wore an expression of surprise. "Feeling better?" To Elara, she looked much like her old self, just slightly damp and carrying faint dark circles under her eyes. She nodded eagerly at the inquiry.

"So much better. Thank you for leaving that food, you're a life saver!" She looked to Elara's left at the others who were huddled over the small desk by lamplight. "So...planning?" The ranger blinked and stood aside.

"Yeah, come on in." Elara shut the door after her and they walked up to the table together. Theron brightened up when he saw her.

"Hey! There she is. Looks like tha' short, twenty-hour nap did the trick." She squeezed his shoulder.

"It did, I'm ready to go." She looked around to the others. Kael appeared very pleased to see her back in form, Elara was more subdued but still satisfied, and Liriel...was unreadable. Eya quickly averted her gaze from the half-elf's probing stare. Those icy blue eyes were beginning to get under her skin.

"Well tha's good to hear. I was gettin' a bit worried there." He patted the hand on his shoulder. She smiled and bumped him with her hip.

"Come on, it takes more than one bad dude to put this girl on her back." The tips of Kael's ears flushed warmly and he cleared his throat. A silence lingered there until Elara covered her mouth and turned away, suppressing a chuckle. Eya's eyes went wide. "Oh, bugger, no. No wait, that sounded- I meant that-"

"We got it." Liriel interrupted her stammering. "Let's move on, yeah?" The others nodded along in amusement or embarrassment and leaned over a crude, but detailed, drawing of the wharf that was resting on the table.

"So, they're probably going to load the ship here." Kael began, pointing to the eastern horn of the crescent-shaped port. "We can try to intercept the wagon anywhere along here, but the closer to the exit, the better. They're probably going to have most of their people at or near the ship, waiting to load. The problem is this-" he dragged his finger along the squiggly line that represented the winding, switchback path that lead up to the port control gate. "That path is going to slow down any escape, they could practically walk up to us at that point. Then it turns into another ugly knife fight like the sewers, only with the added problem of the innocents in the cart. Not to mention all the people that will be leaving the market at sunset."

"Can we hit them before they enter the wharf?" Theron asked, pointing to the marking that indicated the gate. "The guards might even help us out." Elara shook her head.

"That intersection is busy. More bystanders, plus the gate only has two guards and I doubt they'd be able to help us turn the tide if things got ugly." She crossed her arms and pondered the map some more.

"They're security guards, not trained soldiers." Liriel added. "My gold says they'd be more of a liability than a help anyway." She squinted tightly, deep in thought. "Are you sure he said dusk?" She finally asked, looking at Eya. The cleric glanced up from her own thoughts, surprised.

"Me? Oh, yes. He definitely said dusk."

"Why then though?" Kael interjected. "If they're looking to use the new moon for cover, why come in when it's still light out and there's a ton of foot traffic?"

"Mara." Eya answered. She gestured toward the gate. "They have to know which guards they can pay off to not check the cart. Mara isn't one of them, I'm sure of it. They probably know the shift schedule, and she won't be there until about an hour after sunset. She said that last night." She stopped and did some quick math. "No, two nights ago." Kael turned toward Liriel, whose eyebrows had climbed toward her hairline.

"Yeah." She said, grasping for words. "That makes sense. I met Mara, that was my read on her too." Eya smiled and swayed at the veiled compliment.

"Okay," Kael resumed, "so they come in at or just before sunset. They use the crowds for cover, go down toward their slip, and wait until nightfall. They load the ship and head out under cover of darkness. Solid plan for them, where does that leave us?" Silence again as all four minds pondered the problem. Elara looked at the wizard.

"Teleport?" The doubt in her voice didn't make the suggestion particularly convincing. Theron shrugged.

"So long as we only take Jory and maybe two others. We're not even sure how many there will be, right? There's already five of us and the wagon will be too big, for sure. I could try an illusion, tha' might buy us a few seconds." He sounded dejected; disappointed in his own inability to fix the problem. Liriel cleared her throat.

"The kid is the only one we're after, technically." Elara silently shook her head, Kael fixed her coldly, and Eya's look of disappointment made her stomach hurt. She covered up her unsettled reaction to the cleric's wide-eyed dismay by rolling her own eyes and putting up her hands. "I'm not saying we should leave everyone, just- y'know- making sure we all remember what the job is." Eya nudged Theron with her elbow.

"I'm not an expert on arcana but you seem like a pretty smart wizard. Can't you just 'wish' for a- I don't know..." She gesticulated as she searched for an example. "A straight path up the hill or a friendly dragon? Or something between those tw-" She stopped short when she looked at him. A strange, incongruous expression flitted across his normally jolly features just fast enough for Eya to question if she saw it. Elara cleared her throat, drawing Eya's attention.

"That kind of magic can be very touchy. Makes it difficult to execute correctly, especially in a fight. He knows enough to know not to mess with it." The cleric nodded along, confused but accepting. She felt another pat on the arm and Theron spoke up with a wry chuckle.

"Aye. Appreciate yer faith in me but tha's a bit of a wild card, even for yer's truly." She accepted that explanation and they all silently regarded the map for a few more minutes. As she thought to herself, Eya pulled out the electrum coin around her neck and began fiddling with it while she stared at the map.

"I know this isn't my role, and you guys have so much more experience with this sort of thing..." She spoke quietly and searched the group for reactions. Seeing no objections she pointed at the map, just east of the base of the winding path. "If we can get control of the wagon here, that's past most of the market crowd. There's still enough room on the boardwalk to turn it around quickly...I hope." Kael nodded in agreement.

"Okay, sounds good so far. Then what? We'd still need to shake their escorts and get up the hill before reinforcements arrive." Eya moved her finger to the northern arm of the port.

"Well, I've got an idea, but you'll need to trust me. To be honest, it'll probably get a little hairy and we'll need to throw in some theatrics for good measure." The way her voice rose at the end made it seem more like a question than a declaration. The four seasoned adventurers considered each other silently. Finally, Kael looked back at Eya.

"I think you've earned a little trust, Alia." He smiled at her and in the dim lamplight she swore she saw the light behind his eyes grow brighter.

"I like it," Theron added, "I'm already little, hairy, and theatrical but I'm still a good time."