herelayed 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 theranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and he soon found himself returning thesmile.
Old times indeed.
“This group,” Gerwyth said after a moment, pointing to thetrail heading north, “was carrying something fairly heavy, which you can seequite plainly by the deeper indentations of the prints left in the mud.”
“Yes, quite plainly. I agree,” Kaerion responded with morethan a trace of humor in his voice as he looked at the barely visible-and to hiseyes, completely inscrutable-indentations in the muck.
“Furthermore,” Gerwyth continued, obviously choosing toignore 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 anunwashed 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’sface, 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 tofall 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 wouldbe 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 hiscompanion 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 leftside. The creature spun as the fighter’s bulk crashed through the brush, butbefore 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 itfell, 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 quicklyand 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 onhis shoulder.
“There,” the ranger whispered softly, pointing to theopposite 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’stomb.
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 enoughtime 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.
Kaerion let out his breath slowly and took a few moments for his heart to resume its normal beat before continuing. Several more minutes of careful travel brought him nearly up to the imprisoned noble. He winced as he saw the deep cuts and bruises that marred Bredeth’s body. Obviously, his captorshad spent some time interrogating the noble. By the looks of things, the young man had not easily revealed what the bullywugs were looking for.
“Careful now,” he whispered to Bredeth as he began to sawthrough the thick rope that bound him to the tree.
“W-what? Wh-who is it?” Bredeth asked through swollen lipsand deeply bruised cheeks.
“Shhh,” Kaerion warned. “It’s me, Kaerion. Gerwyth and I arehere to rescue you.” His knife, sharp though it was, did not bite easily throughthe slime-covered rope. This would take a few minutes of work.
Bredeth made a soft sound, somewhere between a groan and a sob as Kaerion continued cutting the rope. “Never mind me,” the noble whisperedhuskily. “Rescue the boy.”
Kaerion studied Bredeth closely, sure that he was delirious. But the young man kept repeating himself. It wasn’t until Bredeth, one handfinally free from the rope, pointed a mud-covered hand off to his left that Kaerion saw the small figure lying inert on the muddy ground. He cursed once and placed the knife gently into Bredeth’s swollen hand before moving toward thefigure.
Gently, he rolled the figure over and was surprised to see the battered face of a young lad, surely not more than fifteen years old. Unlike Bredeth, the boy was not tied to a tree, but Kaerion could clearly see that his arm hung at a gruesome angle. Carefully, Kaerion sat the boy up and dribbled a small stream of water into his mouth.
The young prisoner swallowed reflexively and blinked grime encrusted eyes open. For a moment, Kaerion found himself back inside the gruesome walls of an ancient shrine, looking down upon the piercing blue eyes of a trusting child. Terror gripped him-and guilt, but, as if from somewhere faraway, he heard the thrum of arrows being loosed from a bow and the defiant ring of a familiar elven war cry. The sounds grew louder and he found himself crawling free from the clutches of the vision. As one who emerges from the utter blackness of a dungeon out into the bright light of day, Kaerion blinked quickly. The young lad still stared at him blankly, and Kaerion realized he was still invisible.
“Rest easy, son,” Kaerion whispered. “I’m a friend. We’ll beout of here soon. Just keep quiet.”
The boy blinked but said nothing. With an almost imperceptible grunt, Kaerion gathered the boy in his arms, lifted him off the ground, and turned toward the original target of this rescue. Bredeth, though wounded and mistreated, had managed to grasp the knife in his free hand and carve through the remaining bonds that tied him. Rubbing his wrists to restore circulation, the young noble smiled at the wounded boy seemingly floating toward him. All around them, the bullywug camp filled with the sounds of chaos.
“We must hurry now,” Kaerion said. “Gerwyth cannot distractthem for too much longer.”
He stepped into the darkness of the surrounding bush, confidant that Bredeth would follow.
Kaerion ran.
Beneath the lidless eyes of the gazing moons, the Vast Swamp was aglow with witchlight. Shadows limned with silver, a mingling of darkness and light so deep that every border blurred. Grass or wind or even stagnant pool- it made no difference to Kaerion. He ran upon them all-or the dream ofthem. Bathed in the crystalline light of the moons, everything bled into one single reality.
He ran.
Somewhere ahead, he knew Gerwyth watched over the wounded figure of Bredeth, who despite the hesitance of his own battered body, pushed on, refusing to be carried. The noble had courage, that much was clear.
Kaerion drew in a deep breath as his own body ached for relief. Beside him, the young boy, apparently freed from the stupor of his own wounds, matched his pace. Throughout the last several hours, the lad had kept up, and Kaerion was surprised to find him exceptionally fleet of foot.
They had discovered, during the infrequent and all-too-brief-rest stops, a little bit more about the former
