Private Tales Through the Mists

[Keyleth]

Keyleth nodded quietly, then motioned for the barbarian to follow her. She could kill two birds with one stone this way. There was something she had of Cossick's that Thren might be able to use in order to track the traitorous curr down; and she would be able to bandage her wound and change the dress for her armor. "Come with me."

She didn't walk as briskly as she normally would have. The gash running the length of her side slowed her movements, much to her frustration. It was a simple fact of life that an injury would slow someone down, but Keyleth was loathe to admit the truth. She was hurting, but she would be damned before she admitted to it.

Her men were capable of wrestling control of the situation without her micromanaging them. She trusted them to do what was necessary in her absence while she dealt with other matters. Beslin would have gathered his unit by now, and they would now be in the process of sealing off the city. No doubt there would be more fighting as well.

The duchess led Thren through the corridors to her own quarters. There was little activity in this part of the castle, all the guards having been summoned to deal with the crisis, and the servants were all in hiding.

"In the top left drawer on the desk you'll find an opened letter with the Lord's name on it. He wrote it himself. If that is not enough, there is another from Galai in the bottom drawer. The two of them are working together, no doubt." She explained, moving over to her wardrobe to fish out a small first aid kit. What she needed was a mage to heal the wound, but she didn't have time to track one down... And she wasn't sure if she could trust any of them. An injury caused by a wendigo would likely fester and rot from infection if left untreated.

 

[Thren]

Larik trotted along behind the two humans, happily panting and still covered in blood.

The Hound was more than used to combat of course, having fought alongside Thren in not just battle, but entire wars. Sindari Warhounds tended to live twelve to fifteen years, and Larik had been at the Barbarians side for nearly a decade now. He wondered briefly what he would do without the dog.

It was a depressing thought, and one that he decided to push away for the time being. As they entered Keyleth's chambers he glanced around, then peered down at the letter. For a moment he frowned at the runes upon it, and then simply scooped it up and whistled.

"Come here." He told Larik, who appeared to be sniffing at some sort of undergarment drawer. The Hound glanced back for a moment and then trotted over towards Thren.

"Find this man." The Dog seemed to sniff, and then sit back on it's haunches as it waited for another command. Thren smiled and then looked back up at Keyleth. "You should be ready to move."

Larik was a fast tracker.

 

[Keyleth]

While the hound had caught the scent of their target, Keyleth finished slathering the festering wound with an ointment. She hissed in pain and squeezed her eyes shut to block it out. The medication should at least stop the bleeding for now, and hopefully prevent the rot from setting in for a few more hours.

From there, she strode over to her armor and started to get dressed. Little attention paid to if the barbarian was watching her or not. Without bandages, her wound would likely start to bleed once more the moment she got into another fight. Still, it was better than nothing.

She grabbed her halberd and gathered her shield in the other hand, clipping the protective great into place on her back. The weight of it was a small comfort.

"I am ready."

 

[Thren]

Thren didn't seem embarrassed, though he did not leer either. Among the Siruk modesty was not common. Nudity was a simple fact of life that couldn't be avoided. Getting undressed and dressed was a part of life, no more avoidable than eating or going to the bathroom.

Among his people, this was as common as could be. "Good."

The Barbarian finally answered as she finished getting dress. He motioned to Larik, the Hound's head finally perking up and his ears going flat. His jowls flared back for a moment and then he spun in place.

At the same time Thren reached out and put his hand against a stone column, his lips thinning for a brief moment.

"Go." With that single command Larik turned and took off into a sprint. Thren fell into step behind him, confident Keyleth would follow.

 

[Keyleth]

It was difficult to say which caused the woman more pain: having to follow the barbarian or the deep wound in her side. She settled on the physical injury being worse off than her wounded pride, but it also allowed her to focus on something other than her frustrations.

Her strong legs carried her as quickly as she could manage, and she masked the limp as best she could.

There was only so much time left to her before she'd be rendered unable to walk from the wound. What would happen then? Could she put an end to this madness within the next few hours? Or would she be forced to watch her city fall from her knees?

A grimace settled over her features at the loathsome image. No, she'd die in battle before she ever allowed that weakness to overtake her.

"We don't have long." She said tersely through her grit teeth.

 

[Thren]

Thren half turned back as Keyleth spoke, lips thinning. "How do you figure?"

The man was being hunted, chased like...a dog through his own city. As far as the Barbarian was concerned they were the ones with time on their side.

Was she worried that he would summon more demons? Surely the magic required for that was difficult, costly. He couldn't imagine that he would be able to use it full force...or at least he hoped so. Fighting one of those things had been hard, much harder than he would have liked.

More?

He grimaced at the possibility.

 

[Keyleth]

She glanced to Thren when he looked at her, setting her jaw firmly. So he didn't know much about the wendigo demons then. Though, to be fair, she didn't know much more than the fact that the wounds would probably kill her by the end of the night. It gave her enough time to find Cossick and remove his head from his treacherous body.

"I need you to promise me that you will kill that man if I should fall. Whatever price you require, it will be paid." She said flatly to the barbarian.

 

[Thren]

Thren looked at her for a moment, eyeing the woman up and down in consideration.

He hadn't much liked that man upon first meeting him. Nobles were something of a different sort, and generally speaking...they were distasteful to him. Keyleth had made an alright impression, though from what he'd gathered the nobles didn't much like her either.

"Sure." He said finally, still running after Larik as the hound went bounding through a doorway and quickly ran beyond.

He probably would have killed the man anyway.

"All I need is a ship." Thren told her. "Something to get me home."

 

[Keyleth]

"Then a ship you will have." She murmured as she raced after the barbarian and his hound.

Outside the castle walls, there was still fighting amongst the opposing soldiers, though it had died down considerably has Cossick and his men fled from the scene. It seemed as though Keyleth's forces had repelled the brunt of the attack, but it had demanded a heavy price. Brother's pitted against one another, and for what? Because of an ambitious lord's desire to claim the throne? What a stupid reason.

Keyleth could feel the wounds leeching her strength away with every step she took.

 

[Thren]

Briefly he wondered if this would be the last of it.

There were other nobles in this city, other men who thought little of it's current ruler. This man was the worst of them, surely, but would killing him stop it?

The Barbarian doubted it. "This way."

Larik seemed to bound faster now that they had left the keep, rushing off and bucking through the corners in the blink of an eye. The Hound was chasing his prey, always keen to find the next kill. Thren could barely keep pace with him, and behind him he noticed Keyleth trailing.

Were her injuries worse than he thought?

A frown touched his lips, and with a whistle he slowed the Hound just a few paces.

 

[Keyleth]

She noticed that the barbarian had to slow the hound in order for her to keep up. This was foolish. Increasing her heart rate was only going to make the toxins spread more quickly through her system. She should have sent the barbarian off with a team to track down the traitor, instead of giving chase herself.

If anything, she was hurting the chances of putting an end to this fight.

"We must be getting close."

 

[Thren]

"Soon." Though he had slowed Larik himself, he could tell that the Hound was following the scent more closely now.

His snout was pressed closer to the pavers, his ears pulled back, and his nose scrunched.

The Barbarian slowed his pace even further, settling into a walk as Larik all but came to a stop. There was a row of manor houses, low laying walls. He frowned for a moment, and then glanced back at Keyleth. "Recognize any of this?"

He gestured with an open hand.

This was her city after all.

 

[Keyleth]

She closed her eyes, pressing the blunt wooden end of her halberd against the stone street to balance herself. Nausea swept over her, like a wave of morning sickness, once they'd come to a stop. When she opened them again, she took in the details of her surroundings.

"Yes. That --" She said, nodding towards the manor to their right. "Is Galai's estate."

Gritting her teeth together, she moved forward towards the gate. None of the usual guards waited outside, which told her that they had all either been killed or recalled into the manor itself for protection.

"There will likely be at least one other Wendigo before tonight is through."

 

[Thren]

Thren whistled again.

Larik's head shot up, glancing back at the Barbarian before he looked down at the scented trail. After a moment of lingering he turned and padded over towards the two humans. "Alright."

He said quietly, glancing over towards Keyleth.

"Are you going to make it?" They had only known one another for a short time, really only a few hours, but in that time Thren had proven himself a rather...candid individual. He wasn't going to sugar coat things, and if he thought she was going to be a weight then he'd gladly have her stay behind.

"I can go by myself." Larik barked. "Well, with him."

 

[Keyleth]

There was no reason for her to lie to the barbarian. Her pride would only get both of them killed if she tried to pretend that everything was as it should be.

Swallowing hurt now.

She couldn't see them, but dark red and black streaks were beginning to creep up her neck from the edges of the gash on her shoulder. Years earlier, when a Wendigo roamed the forest outside the city walls, Keyleth had seen the damage inflicted first hand. It had been before she'd even been made a duchess, back when she was still just a soldier.

A slow, painful death awaited her. She knew that.

"The rot, it's called." She said hoarsely. "Wounds inflicted by a wendigo that don't kill you outright fester and spread."

Her grip tightened on the handle of her halberd, swinging the gate open to the courtyard. "The more you fight, the faster it spreads."

 

[Thren]

He stared at her for a moment, frowning slightly as he thought about the gash the creature had nearly dug into his own flesh. The information was something he would have liked to have known before all of this, though he understood why she hadn't shared it before.

"I see." He mused for a second, glancing at the house behind him.

Larik wandered over to the woman, sniffing her side and flattening his ears slightly as he glanced up at her. He whimpered quietly, looking at Thren almost as if he were asking for something. The Barbarian was no healer of course, though some of the Siruk were quite skilled with herbs.

Just not him.

"Stay out here." Thren said plainly as she swung open the gate. "I can do this on my own."

She needed a healer, not to fight.

 

[Keyleth]

The muscles in her jaw flexed when Thren told her to stay outside. She hated to sit the fight out, especially since it was for her city, but the barbarian was right.

Even if she hated to admit it.

A hand reached out to Larik as the hound came up to her and she managed a strained smile.

Her eyes fixed back on Thren and she took a ragged breath. Placing her faith in a stranger was brash and foolish, but she didn't have much of a choice. They were the only ones here, and she was in no condition to fight. She would only hinder the barbarian if she went with him now.

"Take the hound with you." She said, nodding her head once.

 

[Thren]

He chuckled. "Like that was ever a question."

It was unlikely Larik would have stayed outside even if he'd ordered it. He was a loyal little bastard, and when Thren marched straight into danger the Hound was always there to be at his side.

That was how they'd both survived so long.

With a smile The Barbarian reached out and grasped the steel gate with his bare hand. For a second he stood there, and then slowly a metallic sheen began to creep across his skin. The moonlight reflect from his hand, then forearm, and slowly the metal formed over the entirety of his body.

As soon as his fingers released the metal gate it seemed to crumble, once solid steel floating away into nothing but dust. The price paid.

Without another word Thren stepped moved towards the door.

 

[Keyleth]

While Thren was within her line of sight, Keyleth kept her posture straight and rigid. The moment he disappeared into through the threshold, she staggered over to a nearby tree and clutched at the trunk for support as she wretched. Shakily, she raised the arm holding her halberd up to wipe at her mouth with the back of her sleeve; but the limb started to shake so badly that she dropped the weapon.

She felt dizzy, like the world was tilting beneath her feet, which made it difficult for her to pick the halberd back up with her uninjured left hand.

Weakly, she made her way to a nearby bench and sank down onto the stone slab. Her breathing was far more labored than it should have been, and each inhale caused a sharp stab of pain to lance through her right lung.

It was eerily peaceful in the walled off courtyard, but she could hear the fighting further off in the city.

She leaned her weight onto the halberd, curling her fingers tightly around the handle. Now that she had finally stopped moving, and her heart rate slowed, she could catch her breath. The poison still seeped into her veins, but slower now.

"I need a damned drink..." She muttered.

 

[Thren]

Thren could not have said how long he'd been inside of the Manor. He could not have said how long the battle lasted. He'd lost himself in the fight, lost himself within the rage.

It had happened fast. It had taken hours.

He did not know which was true. Yet when he emerged from the broken doorway blood splattered his skin and dripped from the black daggers in his hands. The steel that had been etched onto his flesh was no longer there, apparently cut or even peeled away. His chest rose and fell, his eyes searched the courtyard.

No cuts stained etched his skin.

No marks marred his flesh.

He had been careful of both man and beast. Larik stepped up behind him, his muzzle stained with crimson red, his bright golden fur splattered with the same. The Barbarian glanced down at him, eyes weary, body burning with exhaustion.

Blue eyes spotted Keyleth, head cocking as if he were trying to see if she were still alive. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, then slowly wandered over towards the bench. "We missed something."

His tone was even, but his voice a bare rasp. Gravel grating against gravel.

"There are a hundred corpses in the basement, a dozen circles for magic of some sort." He glanced towards the manor. He'd encountered one of those demonds, but...there had to be more. "Your city is going to fall, Tikaya."

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth slowly opened her eyes when she heard Thren speak. For several moments, she didn't speak or move. Eventually, she took a deep breath and turned her gaze up to the barbarian. The red and black streaks were reaching the edge of her jawline now.

There was nothing else she could do.

"I need to... get back to the keep. We'll need to start evacuating the civilians." Her own voice was brittle when she spoke.

Weakly, she pushed herself onto her feet while using her weapon as a support. Once on her feet, she swayed slightly and squeezed her eyes shut to focus. A combination of her physical ailment and the overwhelming knowledge that she was watching the fall of her city was too much for the woman to bear at once.

"I'll uh... I'll arrange for your boat just... please take as many as you can with you."

 

[Thren]

For a moment Thren peered down at her, then slowly looked at Larik sitting besides him. The hound stared back at him, beady black eyes fixed on glacial blue. A frown touched the Barbarians face for a just a second, and then slowly he replaced the daggers on the small of his back.

He sighed, then leaned forward and scooped up the Amazon.

It was something he found surprisingly easy, though as he did so he suspected that the halberd would go falling onto the floor. She barely seemed to have the energy to stand up, and Thren doubted she would be able to hold onto it once he threw her over his shoulder.

"I'll get you back to the Keep." He commented dryly, Larik standing up as he turned to leave the courtyard.

"Then I'm leaving." The Barbarians throat still sounded dry. "Civilians or not."

He wasn't going to die here.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth barely had the strength left to verbally protest as the barbarian scooped her up into his arms. What should have been an angry shout, came out as only a pitiful squeak. She couldn't remember anyone picking her up like that, and she certainly didn't enjoy how vulnerable it made her feel.

The beloved weapon clattered to the stone path once he tossed the lithe woman over his shoulder. The position he carried her in made it difficult for her to breathe, as it put pressure on the wound on her side. Since there hadn't been time to properly bandage the cuts, droplets of blood dripped from her fingertips.

As they grew closer to the keep, the acrid smell of smoke and blood reached their nostrils. The fighting had grown significantly worse. Maimed bodies were scattered across the streets, blood running down the dark stone causing it to glimmer in the moonlight and fire.

Up ahead a contingent of soldiers rounded the corner. Many of them were injured, but they looked to mostly be in fighting order. Beslin was leading the group. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the pair moving towards him.

He rushed forward, sheathing his sword at his side. "Skies above... is she dead?" He asked, face pale. There was a jagged cut on the side of his face. As he reached to take Keyleth from the barbarian, the duchess stirred and opened her eyes.

"No... not dead." She groaned, gritting her teeth together. "Ready the fleet... get as many as you can to the port."

"My lady?"

"Cossick has summoned an army of those demons... there's no time. We need to save everyone we can." She spoke softly, her voice frail.

Beslin's gaze lingered on the telltale red and black streaks that followed Keyleth's veins beneath her pale skin. "Keyleth..." He murmured.

"I need you to do this, Bes." She whispered, clutching at her friend's shoulder as her consciousness started to fade. "Give the stranger his own boat."

 

[Thren]

"He won't kill everyone." Thren offered, though he knew that they wouldn't find the fact all that helpful.

The Barbarian wasn't exactly trying to calm them either, simply deciding to point out the obvious. Glacial blue eyes glanced up at the Keep, smoke and flame slowly rising from it's reaches. He frowned for a brief moment, glancing at some of the soldiers before he looked towards the docks.

"Only those that supported you." He sounded distracted now. "Otherwise there wouldn't be a city left."

Thren frowned. "He must have a way of controlling those things."

That was really the only option, otherwise why create so many of them? Cossick had needed an army, true, but what good was an army if it destroyed the city you were trying to take over? There was something missing here...something that Thren didn't quite understand.

Lips thinned.

"You should leave." That suggestion likely wouldn't be welcome. "Your citizens won't all be slaughtered, but you certainly will."

 

[Keyleth]

"He's right, Keyleth." Beslin said flatly, shaking his head. "We can do more good if we stay... No doubt he'll have directed that army of his to the docks anyways."

The guard turned his gaze to meet Thren's. "Take her with you and I"ll get you to a boat."

"Beslin, no. I can--" She started to argue, determined to stay and see the fight through to the end.

"You can't even stand. If you stay and die, any hope of reclaiming the city dies with you, without Aviana here. And we don't even know if she's alive. You are leaving, my lady." The captain growled, turning a stern gaze to his Duchess. He looked back to Thren, waiting for the barbarian to give his response.