masterghandalf

Chapter 7: Fury of the Flame

Len pulled her cloak tightly around her body as a cold wind blew down from the north across the Scions’ Sound and around Pok’s small boat. The cliffs were looming high above them now; the city atop them could no longer be seen, and it felt as if they’d fallen into a cool shadow. Len craned her neck, looking up at the oncoming wall of rock, feeling her body tense instinctively, and then someone placed a comforting hand on one shoulder. Turning, she saw Yhani standing at her side, silver-blonde hair streaming in the wind, and she smiled.

“Ah, Pok,” Rinnean’s voice said from behind, “I’m sure that a respectable man like yourself knows your business, but to my amateur eyes it looks very much like we’re going to hit that cliff.”

Pok laughed. “No, we’re not. But you might want to hold onto something, friend!” Len grabbed a hold of the boat’s railing, as did Yhani a short second later, and then they were both nearly rocked off their feet as the boat turned sharply, passing through a narrow cleft in the rock that had been all-but-invisible a few moments ago, before finally emerging into a small, protected cove surrounded by cliff faces on all sides. Len’s eyes narrowed as she studied the rock, and she thought she noticed a cut winding its way towards the top where a stairway might be located.

Pok pulled his boat up to the narrow shore and dropped anchor; Len, her team, and Thyra jumped out and waded ashore. Pok followed a moment later. “That will take you up and into Rekkenmark,” he said, gesturing towards the cleft that Len had thought concealed a stair. “It’ll go into a tunnel near the top, and then you’ll come out in a back alley in the city. Not far from the rail station, which your friend here,” he nodded at Rinnean, “indicated was where you wanted to be going in the first place. Now then, I believe I was promised some money.”

Thyra stepped forward, counted out five galifars from her bag and passed them to Len, who in turn handed them over to Pok. The smuggler regarded each of the coins critically for a moment, then smile. “Excellent; everything seems to be in order,” he said, and then a rather unpleasant smile crossed his thin lips. “However, it seems to me that you lot didn’t want to have to deal with the Karrnathi authorities; I don’t know why and I don’t care, though I understand the feeling completely. But I’m a busy man, and who knows, my mouth might just slip sometime in the next few days and put some information and the wrong ears, and who knows, that might not end too well for you.” His smile broadened. “So I think I’ll be taking a few more galifars to make certain my lips stay sealed, if you catch my drift.”

“I’d think,” Ghazaan rumbled, coming to stand on Len’s left side while Yhani took up her position on the captain’s right “that would be included in the fee flat out, smuggler.”

Pok spread his hands. “Well, I do have to eat, and it occurred to me halfway across the Sound that I could probably get more from you than I’d worked out with Master Rinnean. So what do you say?”

Len’s sword was out of its sheath in a moment, the flat of the blade held close to Pok’s neck. The captain breathed deeply and let a little magic flow into the weapon, and the blade suddenly burst into flame. Pok’s eyes widened and he jumped back slightly. “I say,” she said in a quiet, dangerous voice, “that I’m a very dangerous person, and I are my friends. I also say that I’m a reasonable woman and don’t think killing someone for trying to cheat me would be justified, so I’d rather we just walk away and all forget we had this conversation. But I don’t like it when people try to sell me out, so if you do, I’ll find you, and we’ll have a very nice, long talk. You understand me?” She flicked her sword, sending sparks showering from the end.

“Inescapably,” Pok said, gulping. “Should have realized you wouldn’t be an easy mark; what I get for being greedy. Well, with that settled, let’s all be on our way, shall we? Things to do and all that.”

“I agree,” Len said; Ghazaan nodded vigorously and Yhani fixed the changeling with a flat, inscrutable stair. The captain dismissed the flames on her sword and sheathed the weapon at her side. “So glad you were willing to be reasonable. Let’s get going, everyone!”

The rest of the team turned and began to make their way towards the hidden stairs, with Len, Ghazaan, and Yhani taking up the rear. Just as they reached the base, however, Len turned at looked back at Pok, who stood still beside his boat. She nodded at him once, and he returned the gesture. Then he looked back up, met her gaze with a steely, appraising look, and gave a quick, conspiratorial wink before turning to the boat and climbing on board.

Scowling, Len ignored him and turned to climb the stairs.

///

Valyria shaded her eyes with one hand and watched a Lyrandar airship as it swooped low over Thaliost and prepared to land at one of the city’s docking towers. She and Pitar had taken the lightning rail from Sharn after leaving that damnably smug professor and questioning several ticket workers at the rail station to make certain that Thyra and her companions had indeed bought tickets and boarded for Karrnath, as well as getting descriptions of them. Unfortunately, the nature of rail travel had prevented them from catching up, and now they’d hid a dead end.

“With the bridge out, Thyra must have taken a boat to Karrnath,” Pitar said, drawing Valyria’s attention back to him. “We could question the local dockworkers and captains to see if they’ve seen her or know where she went. Maybe she’s still here.”

“I doubt it,” Valyria said, lowering her hand. “She’s hours ahead of us, and seems to be in a hurry; she’s probably long gone by now. And her lead would only grow if we took the time to question everyone in the harbor, which is so busy that it’s doubtful anyone would remember her even if they did see her.”

“So what do we do, then?” Pitar asked. “You’re in charge, not me. We know where Thyra’s going, but how do we catch up?”

“The Flame will provide a way for those whose cause is righteous,” Valyria said, then scowled. “I just wish it would be a little faster about it.”

Lacking any other leads, she turned and began to stalk towards the docks, white cape flowing behind her; Pitar followed closely by her side. Many of the passerby gave her polite bows as she passed, recognizing from her clothing that she was a Church agent of no minor rank; the Silver Flame was held with great respect in Thrane, where the Church reigned supreme. But there were others who regarded her with suspicion and outright hostility, a reminder that this city hadn’t always been Thranish.

“Val,” Pitar whispered in her ear, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re being followed. There’s some rather nasty looking characters shadowing us, and at least some of them are armed.”

Without breaking a step, Valyria glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw several rough looking humans and one half-orc surreptitiously keeping pace with them, hands on daggers or swords. They were dressed plainly, but there was obvious coordination to their movements, and passerby were giving them dark looks and pulling away while merchants were quietly shuttering their stalls. “I don’t think these are simple muggers,” she whispered back. “Aundairan partisans is my guess. We’re dressed as Church officials but obviously aren’t local; I bet they think that they can kill us or take us hostage without raising too much of a scene.”

“Well, then, they’re wrong,” Pitar said, a note of steel entering his voice. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and Valyria surreptitiously drew one of her daggers; unfortunately, her bow was stowed in her supplies and she didn’t have time to get it out and string it. A dagger would have to do.

The partisans apparently realized their quarry was alerted, and made their move. “Down with the Silver Flame! Long live Aundair!” one of them cried, and then a loose rock came shooting through the air straight towards Valyria’s head. The inquisitor ducked lightly aside and sent her dagger hurtling back towards the assailant; a moment later he was screaming, clutching his hand where the blade had struck.

“For Aundair!” the half-orc shouted, drawing his sword and lunging forward, four more partisans following close behind. The crowd screamed and scattered, leaving the street mostly deserted; Valyria drew another dagger and shot the half-orc a wintery grin.

“With the Silver Flame at my side, I cannot fail,” she said. “Do you still like your odds, big man?”

The half-orc shouted again and his men charged, two focusing on Pitar while the remaining two and their leader faced Valyria. All three struck with their swords but the inquisitor was too fast for them, ducking under their blows with practiced ease; she then stiffened two of her fingers and jabbed them into the nearest human’s throat; the man collapsed, choking.

“What’s all this about?” a voice suddenly shouted. “Break it up! City watch!” A small group of armed men in the uniforms of the Thaliost constabulary rounded a street corner, swords and bows at the ready. Before they could join the fray, however, another group of partisans emerged from an alley and struck them from behind; the watch patrol collapsed in general anarchy. One guard fell with a bloody forehead, his bow slipping from his hands to lie on the cobblestones.

Valyria grinned coldly, then dropped to the ground and rolled under a startled partisan’s legs. Grabbing the bow and pulling several arrows from the guard’s quiver, she jumped back to her feet and in a single fluid motion set an arrow to the string and let fly. The partisan collapsed with the shaft in his side, a look of utter bewilderment crossing his face. Glancing to her side, Valyria saw Pitar disarm one of his opponents and knock the man cold with the flat of his sword, then shoot the other a cool, level stare. The partisan regarded him for a long moment, then dropped his sword and fled.

The half-orc leader looked back and forth from inquisitor to paladin and back again, and then he suddenly ducked behind one of the abandoned merchant stalls, clutching a small girl close to him. “Let me go,” he rumbled, “and she lives. Am I clear?”

“Damn you,” Pitar hissed, lowering his sword slowly. Valyria, never taking her eyes from this last enemy, nocked another arrow to her borrowed bow and took careful aim over the child’s head and at the half-orc’s shoulder.

“Go ahead, take the shot,” he taunted. “And risk an innocent life? You wouldn’t dare, Flamey.”

“I’m an inquisitor of the Silver Flame, big man,” she whispered back, “and I’ve been training with the bow since I was six years old. You have no idea what I’d dare.” She left the arrow fly; it shot harmlessly over the girl’s head and buried itself deep in the half-orc’s shoulder. He collapsed with a curse and a cry of pain, and the girl tore herself free of his arms and ran.

“That was risky,” Pitar said, looking at Valyria with a disapproving glance. “You could have hit that child, Val.”

“But I didn’t,” she said, “and I knew I wouldn’t. I know exactly how good I am, and I wouldn’t have taken the shoot if I didn’t think I could make it.” She turned back towards where the city guards were handcuffing the last of the partisans. Walking over to their officer, she proffered the bow back to him. “Give my thanks to your man for the use of this when he wakes up,” she said. “It’s a fine bow.”

The captain glanced over her shoulder at the wounded half-orc and then gestured for two of his watchmen to restrain him. “I feel like I should be thanking you; we’ve been after this crew for a while,” he said. “And I have to apologize for your being attacked in our city. Is there anything I can do for you, Sister…?”

“Entarro,” Valyria replied. “Valyria Entarro, inquisitor. My companion is Pitar. And I thank you for your offer, but I’m afraid that unless you or your men could transport me to Korth in an instant, there’s nothing you could…” her gaze slid past the captain’s head, and came to rest on the tower where the Lyrandar airship was docked. A smile slowly slid across her face. “Unless,” she said slowly, “you could tell me if it would be possible for me to get to that airship before it leaves?”

///

Captain Balan d’Lyrandar relaxed as he leaned against the railing of his airship, Lhazaar’s Pride. Between wealthy passengers and expensive cargo he’d had a profitable voyage, and he was certain his superiors in House Lyrandar would be equally pleased with his results. Perhaps pleased enough to give a certain talented, ambitious young captain the promotion he’d long desired. He loved flying, of course, but at a higher position within the house he’d still have time for that, to say nothing of seeing a much higher percentage of the gold his voyages earned…

Lost in his happy thoughts, the captain didn’t notice the two people who’d come aboard until they were standing right beside him; he stumbled backwards with startled realization as he took both of them in. A half-elf man like himself, accompanied by an intense looking human woman, both of them armed and attired like holy warriors of the Silver Flame. Balan scowled slightly – they were a preachy, self-righteous lot, those Flameites, not that you could avoid them for long in Thrane – but at least they were extremely unlikely to be would-be thieves or hijackers.

“Well?” he asked, rather more irritably than he’d intended. “I don’t have all day, and I presume you’re not here for the view. Who are you and what can House Lyrandar do for you today?”

“I’m Valyria; this is Pitar,” the human said. “Would you, by chance, be going to Korth?”

“Well, we are bound for Karrnath,” Balan said, “but we’re going to be stopping at Karrlakton, rather than the capital.” He leaned in close. “We’re ferrying some Deneith mercenaries from there back to Sharn; touchy lot. Big swords too.” He looked Valyria up and down. “Your kind of folks, probably.”

Before he could draw back, Valyria had placed a back heavily weighted with coin into his hands. “How much would it take for you to consider a detour, Captain?” she asked. “I need to get to Korth ahead of someone, and I assure you, the Church can be a very generous patron.”

Balan shook the bag, listened to the sound of the coins, and smiled. “I think we can work something out,” he said.

///

Well, this is definitely a transition chapter, but we get a chance to see what some of our characters can do. Len got a chance to show off some of her magus abilities when Pok tried to cheat her; a Pathfinder magus can channel magic through their weapon for a variety of effects, like, say, causing it to burst into flames. We also get to see Valyria and Pitar take on some Aundairan extremists, which I think gives some insight into Valyria’s character. On the one hand, she’s got some essential nobility of character, trying to subdue her enemies non-lethally and being unwilling to shoot through a hostage, but she’s a bit cocky about her abilities and is sometimes willing to let things slide a bit too close for comfort in her pursuit of justice.

I’m not doing much with the Dragonmarked houses in this fic (one of Len’s team has a history with a House, though; I’ll let you guess who and which one for now) but I did manage to work in a Lyrandar here. Thyra and co. have been staying ahead (unwittingly) of Valyria so far, but she’s about to narrow that lead…

-MsterGhandalf