Caught

"Look, you're making a huge mistake! I had nothing to do with whatever it is that you seem to feel I was involved in!"

The city watchman fixed the speaker with an amused gaze even as his hand drifted to the hilt of the plain broadsword belted at his waist, "I'm certain your accuser will be thrilled to hear that. Now shut up and get moving."

Elteber sighed and stepped out of the doorway of the small apartment he had rented on Goat Lane. Rented may not have been the right word. Commandeered may have been a better one. In point of fact Elteber had been squatting in the vacant apartment, and for the life of him he couldn't fathom how the watch had found him. Apparently he was to face his accuser, and his mind flitted through the half dozen or so petty crimes he had committed in the past week. He could think of none where he'd left obvious signs of his passing. His days of a high profile jewel thief were long behind him, and he no longer left a calling card with his marks. The fact that the watch had known right where he'd been baffled him beyond reason. Something about this situation was very wrong, and as he followed the lead guardsman into the dark alley that led away from Goat Lane he heard in his mind not the footfalls of their soft shod boots, but rather the clink of heavy iron chains.

* * * * *

It took about forty minutes for his captors to march him through the city to his destination. During that time Elteber took careful note of the bearing of his captors. There were three of them, and something about the way they carried themselves just didn't ring true with him. Their was a menace about them, and he knew that if he ran away they wouldn't exercise the restraint one could normall expect from men of the watch. They watched him like predators would watch prey, and he knew that they bore him a very special kind of malice. Yet the more he watched them, the more he realized it wasn't him they bore said malice for, but rather for everyone, and everything. 

Perhaps it was these observations which caused him to feel no surprise when they opened a manhole and led him into the sewers. He felt even less surprise when his captors removed the white and red embroidered surcoats of the Watch, to reveal chainmail shirts that weren't precisely polished. Things began to click in to place, and when he caught sight of the taloned claw sigil on the amulet worn about one of the men's necks, his worst fears were confirmed.

"Kryxor's blood," he swore under his breath. He knew exactly where they were taking him, and he knew he didn't want to see the one they were taking him to. He looked about frantically and knew that he had no way to escape. His shoulders slumped and he accepted the hard shove from one of the men almost stoically.

In short order they reached a heavy iron door with a thin grate. The lead man spoke quietly through that gate, and El could hear the sounds of several locks and bars being disabled. Finally the heavy door swung open and El was shoved through. About thirty feet beyond was round wooden platform that hung from heavy iron chains. Two huge creatures, likely bugbears were chained nearby. Next to them was a massive wheel with several poles set inside of it. After leading Elteber to that platform the leader of his captors gave a nod and the two chained creatures each set their shoulder to one of those poles and began to push. There was a loud grating noise and Elteber felt the platform begin to rise.

It rose for a quite some time, higher and higher through a tunnel of complete darkness. Then above him El saw a the dancing lights of torches, and brief moments later he was standing in a dimly lit corridor that ended in a sturdy looking oak wood door. With the leader in front and his other two captors behind, El walked towards that door. In his heart he knew what lay beyond that door, and he had no greater desire then to rush back towards the platform and leap after it into the all-consuming darkness.

The lead man grinned at him and opened the door, “We part ways here. I’m sure you’ll be well cared for.”

The laugh that ensued was wicked, and filled with pure malicious joy. Elteber let out an involuntary shudder and stepped through the door into the chamber beyond.

The room he entered was bathed in the dancing light of many torches. The shadows that were the natural result of such lighting served only to enhance the sense of foreboding that cankered El’s soul. His eyes were drawn up from the dancing shadows cast on the floor by a silvery peal of laughter. His eyes moved slowly upwards, over the polished stones to the first of five terraces. 

Atop that fifth terrace, clad in a silken gown of deepest scarlet, was a beautiful woman. She met his gaze with dark green eyes that seemed to blaze with an inner fire. Again that cascade of laughter filled the room.

Rising to her feet with a languid grace she stepped forward, her hands smoothing the front of her long gown. There was nothing revealing about that gown, it was tastefully cut, designed to enhance her figure not with daring cut outs and exposed skin, but rather with its shape and flow. Her beauty was enough to steal the breath of any man, and as she slowly descended the steps to each terraced level Elteber felt his blood quicken in his veins. As she descended from that last terrace Elteber caught a brief whiff of a heavily spiced perfume. For not the first time since he’d arrived in her lair, Elteber felt himself shudder. She drew closer, circling him slowly, her fingertips reaching out to touch his shoulder. El however, did not feel fingers, but rather felt as though a set of talons had raked across him.

“My my, it would appear that the bird has caught a mouse in her claws hasn’t she?” her voice was rich and lustrous, “a little mouse, so lost and alone. Did you think you could escape me little mouse? You should have known that I would find you. I have eyes everywhere.”

El opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter even a syllable the beautiful woman spoke again.

“You wound me Elteber. You slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night and fled like a coward. You stole my virtue and then stole my emerald? My dear little mouse, did you truly expect to escape Quinn Hawke?”

“Look, Quinn, I… well we are both aware that your virtue was stolen long before I got involved. As for the emerald,” he floundered for a moment, looking up at her for the first time.

It was stupid; he knew that before he even opened his mouth, but he was not noted for his common sense, “I wanted a memento of your eyes. Something with which to remember our time together.”

The slap across his face was one he would admit to having deserved. His comment had definitely been in bad taste.

“Little mouse, you amused me for a time. You proved a pleasant distraction, yet I’m afraid you are no longer amusing. Tell me now Elteber, where is my emerald?”

He coughed, and scuffed the toe of his soft leather boots against the polished stone floor.

The look she fixed him with carried none of her warmth, none of the subtle sensuality that it would normally have carried. Rather what he saw there was pure daggers.

"I'll ask you one more time little mouse. Where is my emerald?" her voice was filled with venom.

“I… well… I may have mislaid it Quinn.”

Her eyebrows arched dangerously, “Mislaid?”

“Well, there was this bout you see. Seemed to be a pretty peachy deal, all sealed up you know? No chance of loss. Well… I…”

She glared at him, and raised her hand threateningly.

“The man I’d bet on threw the fight, bet against himself. There was nothing I could do!”

“You bet my emerald? You… fool!”

“Now Quinn, look I---”

Her eyes were no longer on him. She had turned and begun to once more ascend the steps towards her dais. She spun, her elaborate silk gown swirling about her shapely legs. She lowered herself to her dais, and pulled a simple silver bell from her bodice. She rang it gently, but once, and from the shadows near the first terrace stepped a massive man. Bare chested and rippling with muscles then imposing figure came forward and took Elteber firmly by the forearm.

 “You no longer amuse me little mouse, and as my emerald is now gone you have caused me to lose a small fortune. That fortune you will regain for me, for as of this moment, you are my personal gladiator. You leave tomorrow for Southgate. There you will either make my fortune, or you will die.”

As Elteber was dragged quite firmly from the room by the behemoth of a man, he quite clearly thought that he most certainly didn’t deserve that.

A Day on the Lake

"Grampa, grampa! Look!"

The old man stirred with a slight grunt. As he pushed his old weather beaten leather cap away from his eyes he caught sight of his eleven-year-old grandson hopping up and down excitedly, his small finger pointing towards the glassy surface of the lake.

"What is it boy?" the old man asked, his voice was rough, but not unkind. He smiled at the boy and pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Out there, on the water! I saw him, Silverback!"

The old man crossed his fingers behind his head and reclined slightly, looking at the boy with an amused smile.

"Oh did ye now?" the boy's grandfather replied with a chuckle. The boy had to have been imagining things, Silverback was nothing more than a legend.


The youth stamped his foot indignantly, "I did Grampa! I knew you wouldn't believe me, but I saw him! He was the biggest fish I've ever seen! His scales were like mirrors they were so bright, he -- Grampa look!"

The old man turned a lazy glance towards where the boy was pointing and sat up with a start. The boy was right. That couldn't be any other fish but the legendary Silverback.

"Well call me a toadstool. Ye be right boy. There ain't nothing else that could be than ol' Silverback. Come on lad, he seems to be swimmin' in the south end of the lake. Let's get o'er there and try our hand."

It took the pair about fifteen minutes to pick their way along the shore of the small lake. The great fish appeared to be swimming near to the flowing tributary that ran down from the Shardspire Mountains. The boy was grinning broadly as he struggled to keep up with his grandfather. The sighting of the legendary fish seemed to have sparked something inside the old man. He moved as though he was thirty years younger, and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to the boy belied his excitement. The two had a chance to make history, and the young lad knew that this was a day he'd never forget, even should he live to be a century old.

As they slid down the small slope to the beachhead near the mouth of the tributary that fed their small lake the large silvery scaled fish once again broke the surface of the lake in a massive leap. The sunlight reflected off the near metallic scales and both the boy and his grandfather caught their breath. In all their years, neither had seen anything so beautiful as the glittering rainbow that danced across those scales. Each scale refracted the light perfectly, like hundreds of tiny jewels.

"Quickly boy, let's get our hooks in the water. No time to waste, daylight will fail us soon."

With a grin, the boy cast his line into the water and watched as his grandfather did the same. No sooner had the hook hit the surface than a loud roar echoed through the mountain. The young boy lost his grip on his pole and was thrown from his feet as a shockwave ripped through the lake valley.

"Grampa, what was--"

"I don't know lad. I've never felt or heard anything like that. Keep your eyes open."

"Shouldn't we be heading back?"

"Why boy, it was likely just thunder, Silverback is here. We haven't had a chance to--"

The roaring came again, this time closer. The boys threw his arms over his head and let out a sob as he watched his grandfather hurled from his feet. Then a shadow, larger than anything living could possibly cause suddenly filled the small valley. The boy screamed as a rush of wind blasted over them.

"Grandfather!"

"Move lad, do everything you can and get to the trees. Quickly!"

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran, his small legs churning the sandy beach as he hurried towards the treeline. He stumbled up the bank and turned to see his grandfather limping towards him.

"Come on Grampa!"

The shrieking roar once again filled the air, and the boy let out a cry as his grandfather pitched forward heavily, crashing into the treeline. The youth dropped to his knees, cradling the old man's head in his arms. The pair watched as that huge shadow once again covered the valley. Carefully the boy dragged his semi-conscious grandfather towards an overhang and slid under. There the pair remained for nearly an hour. Listening as that terrible wail filled the air. The young boy cried, terrified. Then at last the sounds were gone, and after what seemed like an eternity the old man stirred.

"Lad, we must get back."

"Grampa, we can't. Ye be hurt, and it's getting dark. Grampa, I'm so scared. I-"

"Hush boy, listen to me. We have to get back, quickly. Help me boy, we've got to get home."

The boy's lip stiffened and he wiped his damp eyes with the back of his sleeve. He nodded, and together they slid from under the overhanging patch of earth and made their way slowly back towards their village. Darkness was creeping over them as they reached the base of the hill that separated them from their home. Just over that hill lay a small valley, wherein the village of Greybriar stood. Despite the encroaching darkness a strange light seemed to fill the sky. The boy, his face confused, looked at his grandfather with tired eyes.

"Grampa, what is that light?"

The old man did not reply, but trudged up the hill, dragging one of his legs behind him in an awkward and painful looking limp. His grandson followed, weariness stealing the speed from his steps. As the lad neared the crest of the hill he caught sight of his grandfather, who had sunk to his knees. His face was awash in a ghostly orange glow and realization suddenly dawned on the boy. With a cry the boy hurried up the remainder hill, staring into the valley below to see his village engulfed in flames. The boy dropped to his knees next to his father and cried, a bitter, mourning cry. In the dancing light provided by the conflagration below the lad looked up towards the sky to shout a curse at the gods. The words were stolen from his lips however as he beheld a dark shape on the southern horizon, a shape that appeared to be flying with massive outstretched wings.

"What is that Grampa?" he asked in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

The reply did not come instantly, in fact it took several moment before the words were uttered Though he was young the child could recognize the abject horror in the tone of those words as they finally were spoken. Never before had he heard his grandfather speak with such a tone, and the sound pierced the child to his very soul.

"Dragon lad."

"But grampa, dragons have been dead for thousands of years. Everyone knows that.

"Indeed lad, not since the Kez'rakai were defeated at Southgate has a dragon been seen, but I tell ye lad. That... is a dragon."

Almost as though the beast had heard them the shadowy figure on the horizon banked sharply, and as the seconds passed it grew larger. It was clear that the dragon was coming their way.

"Run lad." The old man whispered, his voice gruff and filled with emotion.

"No Grampa, I won't leave you."

"Listen to me boy, ye must go. I'm an old man and I cannot run. I'm out of strength. I've lived me entire life here. You must head north, warn someone. Tell them what ye've seen. The world must know. The dragons have returned. Now run!"

The tone of his voice allowed for no argument. The boy slowly stood, watching as the massive shape grew even larger. Blinking back tears the child embraced his grandfather fiercely, kissing the old man's forehead, "I love you Grampa."

"And I you lad, now run."

Without another word, for another word would have stolen his nerve the boy plunged down the northern slope of the hill. His legs beat at the ground in spite of their weariness. Exhaustion was long since forgotten, the boy knew that if he stopped, he would die. He did fall once, as the awful shrieking of the dragon, and its subsequent shock wave, filled the air. The boy couldn't look back, and he blinked his eyes quickly to clear the tears that formed there. He knew what had happened, he knew he was alone, and so he continued to run, for several hours he ran, until at last he could run no more. His legs gave out beneath him and he pulled himself inside of a fallen log and there he cried himself to sleep.

As dawn broke across the land a great fish with scales like gemstones began it's slow journey upstream through the tributary that fed a small lake. It struggled briefly to pass a close set cluster of rocks, but a sharp wrenching pain pulled the hook that had caught in it's cheek free. The fish continued its upstream battle, while the supple yew fishing rod flowed downstream and back to a small lake...