Stalking the Beast

by Howard Andrew Jones

  "She's got a shadow now," Illidian said, eyeing his comrade.

  Aladel seemed an alright sort, for an elf.

  "I wonder if she's planning to do a little unwinding this evening with her new friend," Cyrelle said to Drelm with a smile. Drelm liked the huntswoman, but she tended toward a sort of coarseness that the half-orc didn't approve of. He stared hard at her.

  "Oh, what are you looking at?" Cyrelle asked him. "Everyone needs a good ride now and then, to clean out the pipes. Death comes for all of us sooner or later, and then you'll regret those chances you didn't take."

  Drelm finished chewing the deer jerky, swallowed, then lifted the filthy remnant of his tabard between thumb and forefinger.

  "You might as well throw that out," Illidian told him.

  "It's the only tabard I have with me," Drelm said. "And if I'm to present myself as a guardsman of Delgar tonight, I must wear it." He wondered if there was a stream nearby where he might rub out the worst of the stains.

  Illidian's eyebrows rose delicately. "Your ethics are commendable, Captain."

  "Wouldn't you do the same," Drelm asked, "if you reported for duty in Kyonin?"

  Illidian smiled sadly. "Perhaps I would. I'm not sure, now." The captain had changed into a clean blue shirt, and his false appendage protruded from its half-length sleeve.

  "What's changed?" Drelm asked him.

  "I've lost three commands, Captain. And my arm. I can still use my bow, after a fashion, and my skill will improve with practice. But I think my days as a border guard are finished. I'll have to find something else, and I don't know what it will be.

  "You don't have to return," Lisette said.

  Illidian shook his head. "I must report all that has transpired."

  "Aladel could do that," Lisette said casually, as if it were perfectly appropriate for an officer to walk away from his post without notice.

  "And where would I go?"

  "You might go with Elyana," Drelm suggested.

  "To Delgar?" Illidian asked.

  "She's not staying anymore," Drelm told him.

  "Really? Why not?"

  Drelm wasn't sure, but as he turned the problem over in his mind, he thought back to Baron Stelan and Renar and how she had grown sad to see them aging. He frowned. "Because she is tired of outliving her friends," he managed finally.

  "You should feel blessed for every friend you have," Melias said.

  Apart from an occasional please or thank you, these were the first words the girl had spoken since Drelm had joined the meal, and he was surprised to hear from her. The young sorcerer sat with her knees hugged to her chest.

  "Wisely said," Hindreck told her.

  "Where are you going to go, girl?" Cyrelle asked, not unkindly.

  It was a long time before she replied. "I don't know. The monster killed my family and smashed our home. My brother is dead. All I have are the belongings I packed with me."

  "You can buy new things when the mayor pays you," Drelm reminded her.

  "That's not what's really bothering her, Drelm," Cyrelle said. "Melias, you can come with me if you want. It's rough living, but there's space for you till you figure out what you want to do."

  Drelm understood then, and nodded in sympathy. "I'm sure the lord mayor would provide the same," he said. "I'll speak to him."

  "The Oakstewards are grateful for your help as well," Hindreck ventured, cautiously. "I'm certain you would be welcome in Sevenarches."

  "You are all very kind." A sad smile ghosted across the girl's lips.

  "I know things have been bad." Cyrelle's gaze was intent. "You lost a long line of people, and someone you were getting fond of in another way. But you won through, Melias. You've got courage. Someday this pain will be a dull ache."

  "Do you think?" Illidian asked. "I'm forever stuck with my reminder. And even if I seek out a healer with the magic to regrow my limb, how do I ever forget the loss of those who served with me?"

  "They have spells for that," Lisette offered.

  Illidian laughed bitterly. "So I should push the memories of my friends from my thoughts?"

  "I was mostly joking." Lisette sounded annoyed. "But if you can't remember them, they can't hurt you."

  "If I don't remember them," Illidian said, "who will?"

  "To forget your friends dishonors them," Drelm said simply.

  Illidian watched the half-orc in silence for a moment. "I grow to like you more and more, Captain."

  "What are you going to do now, Lisette?" Cyrelle asked. "You have plans for the money?"

  "I did. I'll probably put it toward the purchase of a new musket, although I don't know if I can buy one outright. I may have to hire a craftsman to try and make one off of this plan. It won't be cheap."

  "How will you find a new...assistant?" Illidian asked.

  "If you know any capable volunteers, tell me." Lisette studied Illidian as if she waited for something, but he didn't speak.

  A fine idea had come to Drelm. "Illidian," he said, "you could come to Delgar, like Lisette."

  "I'm not staying in Delgar." There was a vicious edge to Lisette's response. "You really think you're going to get your happy ending?" She sounded as if she thought he was stupid, which puzzled Drelm.

  "What's gotten into you?" Cyrelle demanded.

  Lisette laughed bitterly. "Do you think any of us will get a happy ending? Look at us. Like as not you'll die alone with your animals."

  Cyrelle's thick brows drew together.

  "Elyana and I are veterans of so many fights we can't even form proper attachments. And the girl over there—she's scarred for life now, with home, family, brother, lover, all dead. What's the best that can happen to her? And Illidian. Talk about scars."

  "And me?" Drelm asked quietly. "You didn't say what was wrong with me."

  Lisette laughed shortly. Her hair hung wildly about her face and there was a mad gleam in her eyes. "You've the best chance of all of us." She climbed to her feet, steadied her hand on her gun belt, and stepped away. "It's the damnedest thing," she muttered as she walked off toward their bedrolls.

  "Don't let her bother you," Cyrelle told Drelm.

  "I won't," he assured her.

  "What do you suppose that's all about?" Hindreck scratched his beard.

  "Some of us have scars that are more obvious than others," Illidian answered.

  Drelm wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but he did know that some kept their problems quiet, which he respected. Something was troubling the bounty hunter. He supposed that she'd talk about it if she wanted advice. Otherwise, it was really none of his business.

  paizo.com #3236236, Corry Douglas , Aug 10, 2014

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Errands in the Night

  Lisette

  She should have stuck to the strategy she and Kerrigan had adopted upon her departure from the Black Coil. She would only hunt the men and women identified as criminals by established governments.

  If Kerrigan had lived, all sorts of things would be different, of course. If he'd been with her, he would surely have discouraged her from the deal with Avelis, no matter how good the money was.

  Misfortune had dogged her since that meeting. It wasn't just that the trip had been unpleasant; she'd dealt with much unpleasantness over the years to get close to targets. It was the loss of Karag. Surely she could train someone else to load her weapons, but would any new assistant be so excellent at disposing of other problems as Karag had been? Would anyone respect her privacy so well, and so easily stand to fight when the enemies swarmed in?

  As she closed her eyes that morning, trying to find the rest her body craved, she wished more and more that she had understood, sooner, that Karag had been more than an assistant. Maybe not quite a full partner, but someone that she might at least have consulted. For Karag had been right about the mission. If she'd taken the simple step of speaking with him about the mayor's offer, he would have talked sense, and they would even now be on their
way to Andoran and some better opportunity. But she'd kept him at arm's length, maybe because, after Kerrigan, she didn't want anyone really close.

  Now Karag was worm food, so he couldn't tell her he'd been right to be suspicious. It's not as though she could complain to Avelis that Drelm had been wearing a magic ring she hadn't known about. A clever assassin wouldn't have let that stop her.

  More bothersome, when she'd finally tried to kill him she hadn't wanted to pull the trigger. Assassins didn't like their targets. She'd gotten her emotions involved, just as the master had always complained.

  Lisette didn't go out of her way to pray to any gods, because she figured if she ignored them they might be more inclined to ignore her. But she was starting to feel that they'd had it out for her on this one. It was funny, really, to present her with the perfect moment to slay the half-orc and then make it impossible to do so. The ring had been a marvelous touch.

  More and more she was thinking that she'd simply slide out of Delgar after collecting those heads Karag had preserved for her. Just disappear, and count the whole thing as a loss, and herself as lucky it hadn't gone even more wrong. She wouldn't run to the mayor. She'd retrieve the chest she'd paid the innkeeper to store, and leave town on whatever horse or boat she could find. Avelis could kill Drelm himself. She'd keep the half payment because she figured she'd more than earned it, but she wouldn't bother with the rest, seeing as how she hadn't finished the job.

  And Illidian...he could go sulk in Kyonin. She shouldn't even have considered the possibility, however briefly, that he might accompany her, and she was furious with herself for making the desire so patently obvious. Actors and poets had nothing on elves as far as brooding self-involvement went.

  Tired as she was, she managed to drift off despite her worries, and the gods were kind, for it passed dreamlessly.

  On waking, she even felt moderately well rested. But she was still in no mood to eat with the others, who acted injured that she wouldn't laugh and joke and talk further of the future. It was with great relief that she packed her gear at sunset and lined up with the surviving expedition members in front of the ash tree. Elyana had told the druids that an ash stood on Delgar's outskirts, and that, apparently, was enough for the parchment-skinned Oaksteward to work his magic.

  After much chanting the old man touched the tree, bowing his head to the old wood as though it were a high noble, then motioned Elyana toward the tree.

  Elyana stepped up first, putting a hand to the bark. Her fingers passed through. The elven woman glanced back at the line of them, offered an encouraging smile, and then the tree rippled as she moved into it, like passing through a curtain. Drelm went next.

  And then it was Lisette's turn. Once she had moved into the tree (or was it through? She was a little uncertain about the specifics) there was a moment of almost breathless darkness and the smells of moist earth, distant cook fires, and the half-orc's oiled chain. Another step, and she stood beside him and Elyana outside the darkened bulk of Delgar. She moved aside, looking with her comrades at the avenues of the village, carefully planned by the man the two of them revered. The man who actively planned to kill his own guard captain.

  A few lights flickered in the windows of homes, and music rolled out from a tavern farther down the street, but on the whole the place was nothing like the bustling town it had been when they departed. It still smelled of the river, and fish.

  "It's better," Drelm said quietly, "without all the strangers."

  Melias came through the tree next, then Hindreck, and, whimpering, Cyrelle's dogs, their tails slung low.

  It was time to act. Lisette shrugged off her reluctance with her bedroll and camping gear and set the equipment beside the tree. With any luck, she'd shortly be back with a horse and off on her way.

  She slipped her rifle over her shoulder as Aladel and Illidian came through.

  "I'm headed for the mayor," she said softly. "Wish me luck."

  "May Abadar guide your steps," Drelm said solemnly.

  She offered only a sad smile in answer. Briefly, her mind touched again upon the idea that she might leave some kind of note for them, a warning, so they'd know what Avelis really planned. But that wasn't her lookout. Karag might've argued that she owed them her life, but the way she figured things, they'd all risked their lives for one another plenty of times. Nothing was owed anybody, lest you count the money from Avelis. The mission was over.

  She hurried away, hand to the strap that kept the rifle to her shoulder, and soon she was in among the shadows and moving down a little side alley. The keen-eyed elves might well be wondering why she darted to the east rather than heading straight north toward the city center and Delgar's tower. Presumably they would think she thought to move without being seen. But while that was true, this was the faster way to the home of Madame Celene.

  She knew she didn't have long. How long could it possibly take for Elyana and the others to clear out a Razmiri temple? Likely there would only be one or two priests, and maybe some guards. There might be some shouting, but the Razmiri couldn't possibly have so many powerful clerics that they'd send them to remote outposts in the River Kingdoms. The odds were fair to good that the local priest would have little or no magic.

  In all, it would probably take no more than fifteen minutes to speak to the Razmiri and get them moving. Perhaps another fifteen would pass before someone from the expedition encountered the local guardsmen, or even the mayor himself, at which point Elyana would start wondering where Lisette was and why she hadn't spoken with them.

  As Lisette rounded the corner, jogging for the narrow wood-frame house near the end of the street, she began to realize how trapped she truly was. Even supposing she got out of town in time, Elyana could, and probably would, track her. If for no other reason than because she left so mysteriously.

  Unless she left a note.

  Lisette slowed as she neared the door to Madame Celene's, and got her breathing under control as she headed up the steps to the small wooden porch.

  She wouldn't have to be specific. All it would take would be a letter saying that she hated goodbyes, or something to that effect.

  Lisette reached the sturdy door and knocked gently upon it, and after a brief delay she detected the flare of a lantern through cracks in the wood. An eye slot slid open.

  "Who is it?" Madame Celene asked. Her voice was taut, as if with worry.

  "One of your boarders. Lisette Demonde."

  "Oh." Madame Celene sounded surprised. The eye slot slid shut. "Just a moment," Celene said, her voice muffled.

  But it was more than a moment, and Lisette soon found herself knocking a second time.

  The door opened as she lowered her hand.

  Stuffy little Madame Celene clutched a shawl over her stooped shoulders with one hand and held a lantern in the other. Muscles clearly unaccustomed to a smile strained into one. "Sorry," she said. "I needed to take the kettle off. My goodness. So you're back! Does that mean the monster's dead?"

  "The monster's dead," Lisette affirmed. "I need access to my belongings."

  "Well, of course. Our prayers have been answered, then," she said, leading the way to the cellar door.

  The space beneath the home was small and cramped and, thankfully, the woman did not follow her down when Lisette went to unlock the chest.

  The two grisly mementos of her most recent bounty-hunting expedition were still stored in their eelskin sack inside. Celene stared down at her from the height of the stairs, but could not see within.

  Lisette pocketed her lock, cinched up the bag, and lifted it free. "I wonder if I might purchase a piece of paper to write a note."

  "Of course."

  The bag in hand, Lisette pretended nonchalance as she followed the woman into the front room of the house, which was a cramped receiving room complete with a desk and ledger.

  "But the monster really is dead?" Celene asked.

  "It won't bother anyone ever again."

  Madame Celene tore a
piece of paper from the ledger and cleared her throat as she pushed it across the dark desk, along with an inkwell and pen. "That will be three silvers for keeping things in my storage chest. I'll let you have the paper as a gift, for your service to the village."

  Lisette had met bookies and highwaymen more generous than this woman. "Kind of you."

  As Lisette set the bag at her feet she heard the two heads thunk lightly together and grinned at the thought of Madame Celene having no idea what lay so close beside her. She tapped the desk, staring at the parchment. There was no time to delay; why, then, couldn't she put her thoughts together?

  For some reason, some part of her still wanted to warn Elyana and Drelm about Avelis.

  She cursed under her breath. What to say, though?

  How much time had passed?

  In the end, the words just flowed out of her.

  Elyana,

  I left this evening rather than bring the city guard. Wish it didn't have to be that way.

  Don't trust the mayor. He tried to hire me to kill Drelm.

  It would have to do. She folded the paper, then reached into the lantern, broke off the candle—eliciting a gasp of disapproval from Celene—and dripped hot wax all along the seal.

  Lisette then plopped down four silvers and held out the letter and the candle.

  Celene took them both with a sniff of disapproval.

  "This is for Elyana Sadrastis. Give it to her when she comes looking for me. But only her, no one else."

  "As you say," Celene said, looking down her nose. Apparently someone who broke candles ranked about as highly in the old woman's esteem as a sweat stain, hero or otherwise.

  "It's been great being here," Lisette said, then swung up the proof of her bounty and hurried out the door.

  Maybe if she hadn't been in such of a hurry, she might have noticed the two men before they stepped out of the shadows.

  She halted on the edge of the porch as they came up, thick fellows pushing back cloaks to better reach their sword hilts

  "You're Lisette Demonde, ain't you?" the one on the left asked.