Durgoth smiled down at the boy, who looked up at him with inscrutable blue eyes. “You know that he will need to look as if he’s been captured,” he said. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes, my lord,” the monk replied in his gravelly voice.
“Then proceed,” he said as he turned back toward the questioning thief. Durgoth didn’t flinch as the sound of snapping bone echoed sharply through the camp.
Kaerion peered into the deepening gloom of the swamp, alert for any sign of their quarry. Below him, crouched low to the ground, Gerwyth examined the mud-soft path they had been following for most of the day. Twice now they had nearly lost the trail, for the creatures’ webbed feet ran lightly across the earth, and the foul beasts seemed to know every twist and turn of the gods-blasted swamp. Kaerion feared the worst as the elven ranger continued his examination, but he was too experienced to disrupt his friend’s concentration by voicing his suspicions.
Despite the gravity of their situation, Kaerion found himself settling into the familiar and companionable silence that had characterized most of the day’s journey. It had been several months since the two of them had traveled together with only each other for support and comfort. Though he had grown to appreciate the friendship and trust of the Nyrondese—especially a certain fire-haired bard—there was a deeper bond that had grown between he and Gerwyth across their years of travel and struggle together. It was simple and almost elemental. Kaerion had not known how much he missed it until now.
Not that their current journey was simply a pleasure jaunt he reminded himself. The bullywugs had taken Bredeth, and somewhere in the deepness of the swamp, their companion was held against his will. There had been quite an argument as the remaining Nyrondese nobles had discussed who should go after their friend. Kaerion still winced at Majandra’s words. The bard had a tongue as sharp as any blade when she wished it. In the end, it had only been Phathas’ surprisingly hard-edged insistence that the two guides should go and retrieve the captured noble that had convinced the bard to remain behind. He smiled briefly as he remembered the rebellious set of Majandra’s shoulders as she acquiesced to the old mage’s wishes. In fact, he had half-expected to see the bard waiting for them at a juncture of their trail several times during the day.
“Ahh, I see that your mind is focused completely on our task as usual,” Gerwyth said.
Kaerion, startled by his friend’s sudden speech, half drew his sword before realizing that he had not been paying attention for some time. The elf had risen from his crouch and now stood close behind him. Confusion quickly became anger and embarrassment at his own lack of attention.
“What have you found, Ger?” he snapped at the smiling ranger.
Gerwyth wiped the gathering sweat from his brow before pointing back toward the ground. “The bullywugs we’ve been following met up with another group in this area not too long ago,” he reported.
“Then we’re close,” Kaerion responded, eagerness tingeing his voice.
“Well, yes, we’re close,” Gerwyth said, “but there is a complication. After the two groups met here, they split up. One group headed south, and the other went north.”
Kaerion’s heart sank. With two separate groups, there was no way to know exactly where Bredeth was. He feared that time was running out. If they didn’t find the young noble soon, it would be too late to save him. When he relayed his thoughts to Gerwyth, the ranger smiled.
“I never said I didn’t know where Bredeth was,” he said.
Kaerion looked sharply at the elf’s face, noting the way the ranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and he soon found himself returning the smile.
Old times indeed.
“This group,” Gerwyth said after a moment, pointing to the trail heading north, “was carrying something fairly heavy, which you can see quite plainly by the deeper indentations of the prints left in the mud.”
“Yes, quite plainly. I agree,” Kaerion responded with more than a trace of humor in his voice as he looked at the barely visible—and to his eyes, completely inscrutable—indentations in the muck.
“Furthermore,” Gerwyth continued, obviously choosing to ignore the fighter’s sarcasm, “our friends have left something behind for us.” With that, the ranger bent down and plucked a small strip of bloodied cloth from the thin branches of a bush.
Kaerion easily recognized the material of Bredeth’s cloak. “How long ago did they pass, Ger?” he asked.
“Less than an hour ago, I’d guess, or I’m a blind son of an unwashed orc,” the ranger responded.
Kaerion nodded at his friend’s estimate and gazed at the sky. “Then we must hurry,” he said. “We don’t have too much longer before nightfall.”
After taking a few quick swigs from their waterskins, the two set out once more along the winding trail. Sweat poured freely down Kaerion’s face, and his breath came in even, deep rhythms as he followed the long-limbed ranger, who ran with easy, loping strides across the sawgrass and dark mud of the swamp floor. Around them, the twilight deepened. Kaerion’s hopes began to fall with each passing minute. Once full night fell, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to follow the bullywugs’ trail. They were so close. It would be painful to have to wait until morning to continue the search.
The first sentry took them by surprise. Movement off to his right sent a tingle of warning down Kaerion’s spine. He motioned for his companion to slow down and the two crept toward the watchful creature. With a quick lift of his chin, Gerwyth sent Kaerion clamoring off to the sentry’s left side. The creature spun as the fighter’s bulk crashed through the brush, but before it could sound the alarm, the ranger stood and threw two daggers in quick succession. The blades imbedded themselves deep in the creature’s throat, and it fell, choking, to the ground.
Gerwyth retrieved his daggers and caught up with Kaerion. The two crept forward, alert for any more guards. It was clear that they were close to the bullywugs’ camp. They would have to dispose of any opposition as quickly and silently as possible if they were to have any chance of rescuing Bredeth.
Twice more they encountered sentries, and twice more Gerwyth released steel in a deadly arc, silencing any opposition. Now, from the cover of thick brush, the two friends looked out upon a small, still lake. Several bullywugs lay upon the shore, eating sloppily or conversing in an indecipherable language. Kaerion watched a few moments more before he felt Gerwyth’s hand on his shoulder.
“There,” the ranger whispered softly, pointing to the opposite side of the camp. “Bredeth is over there.”
Kaerion gazed in the direction the ranger indicated. In the gloom, he could just make out Bredeth, his sagging form bound to a thin-trunked tree. Kaerion reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the small silver vial that Phathas had given him before they left the Nyrondese camp. Breaking the vial’s thick wax seal, he smiled at Gerwyth and downed the syrupy liquid within. There was a brief instant of disorientation and then the world settled back into focus. A few moments later, the rangers nod confirmed that the potion had taken effect. Invisible to the naked eye, Kaerion would sneak into the bullywug encampment and free Bredeth, while the elf used his bow to create a distraction. With any luck, the companions would meet up the trail and then travel back toward their friends, who were even now closing in on the location of Acererak’s tomb.
As silently as possible, Kaerion crept around the camp, heading with every step closer to the captured noble. As long as any remaining sentries didn’t stumble onto the corpses of their mates, he should have enough time to untie Bredeth and spirit him away.
The sound of twigs snapping in the shadows brought Kaerion to a complete stop. He held his breath as a bullywug stumbled out of the brush. The creature stopped and peered with bulbous eyes into the growing darkness. The beast stood several feet away from Kaerion, and the fighter was sure he would be detected. He started to draw his sword, careful lest the sound give away his presence, but before he could free his weapon, the bullywug blinked twice and continued toward the stagnant waters of the lake.