"The Tale of Zyrimir d'Quethe, Part III"
by Chartaine

Note: You can find parts one and two in the archives section.

Morning rose over the inn as Chartaine woke up. Immediately he sat up in bed when he noticed the plate missing from the wall where it had hung not an hour before. Quickly he scanned the room to find Zyrimir beginning his morning with a prayer to Chadatru, his god of nobility and pride. All tension left his body as he saw the young warrior turn and regard him.

"Sleep well?" the young paladin asked.

"As well as can be 'xpected from dese beds," Chartaine answered.

Zyrimir laughed. "True enough. There is some food on the table. Eat."

Chartaine nodded and reached greedily for the lamb haunch that sat on the table. Tearing into it, the mage glanced up to see Zyrimir readying his pack. "Where ya head'd so quicklike?" Chartaine questioned his young friend.

"Nowhere unless you get off that lazy arse of yours and get moving," replied the paladin, never looking up.

"Watch it lad," Chartaine said sternly. "Donae ferget who taught ye how ta lace dose fightin' boots."

Zyrimir grinned and chuckled. The noise obviously startled the empath who had been sleeping on the cot near the fire.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Nowhere that you can follow, healer." Zyrimir stated grimly. "I paid the innkeep for another evening, so rest well."

"Thank you, sire. If you need me again, I will be near here until you return," she replied thankfully.

Chartaine, who had begun to gather his things, slung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed the remaining honey roll. Taking a chunk out of it, he headed for the door. "I'm leavin' without ya, lad, hurra'up," he muttered with his mouth still full of roll.

"I thought I was going to lead," Zyrimir joked as he rushed out the door, dragging the bound and gagged halfling behind him.

The band of mercenaries wound its way through the dark streets on the opposite end of town. The leader, who had recently pulled the sabre from his sheath, stopped the band and with a series of hand gestures sent them spreading in all directions. They had been trailing the two heroes ever since they had left the inn. Finally getting to within striking distance, the group was poised. With another series of hand motions, two of the mercenaries jumped out in front of the two friends.

"Well, look'a'here. More fun, wouldnae ye say, Zyrimir?" teased Chartaine.

"That would be my guess," Zyrimir noted, drawing his blade.

Not quite amused by the comments, the leader made a few more gestures and four more men flowed into the alleyway.

"Now what does this remind you of?" Zyrimir asked, moving into position to guard his flank against the newcomers, who had begun circling and grinning toothily.

"Hmm... seems like yer friend bought some new help," chuckled Chartaine as he began a spell. Hearing the mumbled words, one of the mercenaries swung hard at the mage, who dodged with ease. Bring both hands down hard on the stumbling man's neck, he laid the attacker prone with one swing. Reaching for his sword in its harness, the mage gestured and a ball of flame leaped from his fingertips, striking the nearest mercenary in the chest. Caught totally off guard, the young human ran down the alley, flames lapping out in front of him.

Zyrimir swung hard in a downward slice, aiming for the collarbone on the first mercenary, who parried the blow with little effort as his friend moved in for a kill shot at the exposed back of the young paladin. As the second mercenary brought his sword around to strike the killing blow, an arrow suddenly appeared in the hand where his sword had been just moments before. With a stare of disbelief, the mercenary looked down the alleyway at his leader who had grabbed a bow and shot him. Still pondering the actions of his leader, the mercenary ran.

"What are you doing!? Are you mad!?" came a whispered chastising from the elf mage in the shadows.

"You will see," the leader said stringing another arrow. He took his aim and dropped another of his mercenaries with a clean shot through the forehead. The man fell, leaving Zyrimir locked with the last of the six mercenary 'bait.' That one quickly noticed the odds and dropped his sword, running. Zyrimir started after him, then noticed the stranger still standing boldly in the alley entrance, leaning on a bow.

"Who are you, stranger?" Zyrimir asked. "You shoot well."

"Thank ya," the man said cheerfully, tipping his hat, which now had been uncovered since he had thrown his cloak hood back. "Revenier Solarn, at your service. What did that lot want with you two, you seem harmless enuff?"

"Well met," Zyrimir nodded, taken aback by the callous remark. "We have not figured that out yet. We fought several others at this same spot earlier today. This leads us to believe that there is a guild around here, and we have been too close to their entryway." The young paladin had lied. But why? he wondered. This stranger saved his life by shooting a man and he was hiding the truth from him.

"I own a shop near here, there be not guild or hideaways here," remarked Revenier.

"Aye, but ofttimes da owners nae know of them. They donae like publicity," Chartaine stated quickly.

"You're right, we don't," the leader said, gesturing again. Twelve more mercenaries poured into the alley, surrounding the two. "Coming quietly?" joked the leader.