Chapter Text
It’s strange, Caleb thinks, half-hysterical, that they’re back again, fleeing through a sewer and running headlong into an armed and armored Krynn warrior. This time, of course, the soldier is not a lone fugitive, but just one of the Krynn capital’s many guardians, and they were being pursued by at least another half-dozen before they thought to duck out of sight below street level.
This time, the drow fugitive halfway to bleeding out is on their side – Essek, still unconscious in Yasha’s arms – and the warrior looks perfectly fine. He’s taller than most drow – still not quite as tall as Caleb and Fjord, who need to hunch a bit to fit down some of the smaller tunnels, but bigger and brawnier than most they’ve seen. His hair is long, white, and intricately braided to keep it out of his way. He is, probably, what Jester would call handsome, if she were in a lighter mood. Caleb, of course, remembers their first encounter with one of the Krynn well, that night – Jester’s little smile as she piped up I think we should let him go. I think he’s handsome.
He remembers, too, their first day in Rosohna, guided to the Dungeon of Penance to rescue Yeza – Jester had batted her eyes at Essek and chirped I think you’re really cool and handsome, and I hope we can be friends.
This is just his life now, he supposes. Plagued by handsome and incredibly dangerous drow.
(Essek, of course, is not dangerous now. Essek is barely breathing, now.)
Caleb clenches his jaw and moves forward to speak.
“Move aside. We don’t want to fight you, but we will if we must. We are leaving this city. If we have to kill you to do it, we will.” He ignites one hand, just to show he means it.
The soldier’s eyes are flicking between the members of the Nein. His gauntleted hand flexes around the hilt of his sword, but he does not move to draw it. There is a moment’s tension as his eyes catch and hold on the broken body in Yasha’s arms.
“Is he alive?” The man’s voice is rough, his Common accented only lightly.
Cautiously, Caleb begins to move as though to step around him, hoping to move past without combat. They haven’t had a chance to rest since their last battle, and with Yasha encumbered as she is, he doesn’t love their odds if this gets violent. “…yes,” he murmurs, cautiously. “And he’s going to stay that way.”
The soldier’s expression twitches, briefly. He’s fighting some internal battle, Caleb thinks, something not apparent to the Nein. Finally, the man draws to the side, giving them space, and takes his hand from his blade. He might still attack one of them as they move past him, Caleb fears. Essek would surely not survive even a single blow. But the man growls, “Go,” and the Nein begin to file slowly, cautiously past him.
“Get out of here, go! And – don’t come back. If I see you – any of you – again, I – I will kill you.”
Beau looks like she wants to say something, probably something along the lines of “You and what army?” but she recognizes how precarious their situation is and admirably stills her tongue.
Once they’re past, the Nein are able to pick up speed again. They clatter along for a few steps at a run, when they hear the man call out “Wait!” Caleb gets out his sulfur, preparing to cast a wall of flame behind them as they run, but the man hasn’t turned around – he speaks, instead, over his shoulder, his back entirely unprotected.
“If he – when, when he wakes up, tell him….” He swallows hard, sounds like he’s fighting to get the words out. “…tell him, Verin said goodbye.”
Caleb nods, realizes the man probably can’t see him, and says “…we will.” He exchanges a glance with the rest of the Nein. A question hovers in their midst, but none of them asks it. Fjord gestures them to move on, says “Let’s go,” and waits until Caleb takes off down the tunnel before he falls in to take the rear. Squishy wizards in the middle, Caleb thinks, in Jester’s voice.
Their escape is a solemn thing, though they don’t find themselves encountering any further soldiers as they exit the edge of the city. Only when they feel they’ve put a significant amount of distance between them and any pursuing party do they feel they can stop long enough for Caleb to take the time to draw out a teleportation circle to take them safely to Nicodranas. Jester, shockingly, remembers to Send a message to Yussa that they’re coming.
Beau watches as Fjord counts out Jester’s words for her. Once the spell is through, she saunters over, fake-casual.
“Hey, Jes…”
“Yeah?”
“…you think you got a good enough look at that guy back there to cast Sending to him?”
The cat-in-the-cream smile that curls across Jester’s face answers the question even before her words do, but she taps her fingers together with faux-innocence and responds, “You know what, Beau? I really think I did.”