CHAPTER 10
After they had finished looting the bodies, taking for themselves what little the travelers actually had, the party mounted their horses and once more set off for Pelartis. While Brask and the others robbed the dead, Druzeel and Dex had done their best to gather the bodies and lay them out in a line, trying to ignore what their companions were doing. Druzeel felt it was important to give these people some type of respectful memorial. He could not just leave them slumped over the wagons or laying in pools of blood, so he dragged them out of the massacre and set them next to each other. He tried to match up husbands and wives, parents and children, but everyone had been scattered so it was difficult to know which families belonged together. In the end, it didn’t matter. These people were dead and there was nothing he could do to help them, but unlike the others, he would not disrespect their memories by stripping their bodies.
There had hardly been anything on the corpses worth taking. These people had been simple travelers, with simple lives. Druzeel still had no idea where they were going or why they had been on the road, but he would treat them the same no matter their purpose. The most valuable item he saw was a golden necklace that Ristil had taken from a woman who had been killed by a sword thrust through the chest. He had tried not to notice it but the sunlight had reflected off the shiny star-shaped locket that hung from the chain and caught his eye. He just turned away when Ristil saw him watching and gave him a wicked smile. Druzeel wanted to shout at him, to scream that the woman may have loved ones, someone somewhere that would want that necklace back, to remember her and cherish her memory, but he knew the man would only mock him so he keep quiet and continued to do his best to give these people some type of commemorative interment. He would have liked to bury them and give them an actually ceremony but Brask would hear none of it. That type of work would have taken hours, if not days, and they had already lost enough time. Druzeel did his best with the time he had and when the others were finished, he and Dex happened to complete their task as well and they continued on their way.
As Druzeel rode near the back of the group, his thoughts were solely on the people in the caravan. Who were they? Where had they been going? Were there people that would be waiting for them to arrive or return? Well, Druzeel thought with remorse, they would be waiting forever now. He couldn’t imagine being someone that would be waiting for his wife or children to return. It pained him to think of the pain that would be caused by the death of these people. He hadn’t known them, had not seen them laugh or smile as they traveled over the land, but he felt the heartache of their loss all the same. That was what made him different from the others. He actually cared.
It was while thinking of the dead they had just left that Druzeel decided he would tell the authorities of the caravan when they reached Pelartis. They deserved to be remembered, to be brought home. Even if Pelartis was not where they had originated from, they deserved better than just wasting away on the open plains or being eaten by some wondering creature. Druzeel shuttered at that last thought and tried his best not to picture the situation. Brask and the others would be upset with him when he told those in Pelartis about the caravan, but Druzeel couldn’t care less of what they thought. It was the right thing to do and if they did not like it, tough.
For an hour after leaving the destroyed caravan, Brask ran them hard across the plains. He was still trying to make up for lost time, even more so after they had stopped to investigate the caravan, and since Druzeel’s horse had time to heal, he thought now would be the best time to catch up. Druzeel’s mount was better but the ride was rough and when they finally slowed, the animal was breathing deeply. Both rider and mount managed to endure and they continued to follow the leader of their little adventure without complaint.
Though hardly a word was said to him by any in the group, Ristil still found a way to anger him. Druzeel caught the man playing with the golden necklace he had taken from the woman, smiling as he ran the length of chain through his fingers. A wicked grin painted his face as he played with it, his eyes meeting Druzeel’s own.
“Keep it up,” Dex said with an angry tone, riding up next to Druzeel, eyeing Ristil with annoyance, “and I’m going to strangle you with that thing.” The half-elf’s smile disappeared and he narrowed his eyes at his fellow Knight. He eventually let loose a chuckle, smiled once more, and turned around.
“Just ignore them,” Dex said while slowing his horse, making his way back to the end of the group. Druzeel only nodded, knowing that there was no need for words.
It was abundantly clear that Dex had not approved of his companion’s actions and that it still angered him, yet he had been silent. Why? Druzeel wondered. If the man disapproved of their behavior, why had he remained silent? The man was clearly not afraid of the others. Druzeel surmised that he probably kept quiet out of loyalty or some type of odd friendship. Even Druzeel had friends that did things he had not approved of and failed to speak up out of friendship. Maybe Dex saw this as an isolated incident. Whatever the reasons, Druzeel decided not to ask him. His actions were his own. He was just glad that Dex held no resentment towards him.
Later, as Solaris had almost completely disappeared below the horizon, Brask stopped the group to camp for the night. Since the coming night appeared to bring with it a warm breeze, the men decided to sleep in the open. Usually they would set up makeshift tents, but tonight they decided to sleep under the stars. Druzeel followed suit, setting his blankets a few feet from the large campfire.
As he lay there, staring up at the twinkling lights, he found his mind wondering once more to the caravan and the people that had been killed. As he thought of them and the lives they left behind, he found Vallia coming to his mind, the only other dead person he had seen.
He remembered well the tears and sadness on her mother’s face when Graeak had told her of her daughter’s death. He had felt the pain and suffering firsthand, remembered the emotions and feelings that coursed through him, the same ones he was feeling now. Sadness, remorse, regret, sympathy, and anger were flowing through him. That last emotion he felt towards the assassin, for so purposelessly setting his magical killers on such innocent people, but he was also feeling anger towards his companions for being so heartless. None of them, save Dex, had showed any sorrow at all. Jannda had at least showed some sense of sadness but she had still participated in the looting, though she only took what she actually needed. The halfling had not touched any personal belongings and Druzeel had seen her saying a prayer over the children. That had helped soothe his animosity towards her, but he still held a lot of resentment towards the others.
How can they be so cold? he asked himself. How can they just not care? Perhaps it comes from a hard life on the road or maybe from just living a life that was difficult. Their behaviors could have even been derived from a basic instinct for survival. These men spend much of their lives on the road, never knowing where they will be, what they will eat, or what monster will come out of the dark and try to kill them. They may look at any situation in terms of what they can take, what they can use to help them stay alive, even if the need was not dire. If that was the case, then Druzeel could forgive them for the desire for life, for survival, was strong in even the smallest creature. But something told him it was more than that. Something told him that the Knights acted for more than just survival. It all came back to the selfishness Druzeel felt they held in their hearts, some more than others. He felt they were looking for the best advantage. It was as if they were looking for the best way to gain the upper hand, to hold it above others to gain more power. He didn’t know if his feelings were accurate or not. A large part of him hoped they weren’t and that some other unknown motivation lay behind their actions.
Druzeel had no idea as to what the pasts of his companions were like but by the way they behaved, especially Brask, he believed that they could not have had it easy. No one raised in a kind and caring home, a place full of love and compassion, would behave the way they had. Maybe they had bad teachers. May
be they had no role models. Whatever it was that they had been missing, it clearly showed wherever they went.
Druzeel silently thanked his mentor for being the man he was and teaching him as he had. Graeak had taught him well and even if he was a little unprepared for this journey, Druzeel had been showed that morality, ethics, respect, and honor were more important to have then even the most powerful spell. You may be unstoppable, you may be all powerful, but without a good moral standing, you were nothing.
“You may be able to destroy your enemies,” Graeak had once told him, “but the enemy that is most dangerous is the one you never see. Selfishness, cruelty, malice, and hatred lie in the hearts of all men, but with a solid core of honor, morality, modesty, and general goodness, one can overcome anything. Those are the most powerful weapons you yield and weapons that can conquer anything that comes against you.”
Brask and the others can berate me, humiliate me, do their best to tear me down, and commit heinous acts, Druzeel thought as he roll over and close his eyes, a smile on his lips, but they will never destroy what makes me who I am. Graeak taught me too well and raised me right.
Just then, Druzeel felt a small about of pity for the others. They would never see the world as he did, a place of beauty and joy. They would always have hatred and anger weighing them down and holding them back from the finer things in life, such as love and compassion. Yes, he pitied them, but also forgave them for their flaws. To do anything else would be to be like them, and that he would not allow. Ever. That night, he slept soundlessly, with nothing but pleasant dreams and warm memories.
The party rose with the sun, packed their belongings, and got back on the road. Again, Brask pushed them hard for a few hours but eventually relented when the horses, all of them it seemed, appeared ready to collapse. They took a quick rest to feed the animals then continued. About an hour and a half before the sun started to fall, Pelartis came into view.
Hundreds of towers and large cylindrical structures rose from the horizon, looking like giant pillars against the dimming sky. Many of them looked to be made from stone but there were others whose surfaces displayed the glimmering characteristics of some type of metal, apparently copper or bronze. Each building was not entirely made of this material but held dozens of giant plates anchored to its surface, much like plated armor hangs from a fighter. The majority of those giant spires were finished with a rounded top and not a flat surface that one would expect though some still carried such a surface. Others ended in a sharp point, much like a sword, with a flag or banner placed at the apex. Druzeel had read about Pelartis and it unique architecture, but the sight before him still filled his mind with amazement.
The city was huge, looking to be as large or larger than Atlurul and it was surrounded by a forty-foot wall of orangish stone. Metal plates hung from the wall’s edge every ten or so feet, mimicking the look of the buildings. Figures walked along the battlements and stood in the windows of the towers that decorated the wall, scanning the horizon. Since there was nothing but plains surrounding the wondrous city, they could see for miles in any direction. Any danger would be sighted long before reaching the gates.
Smaller settlements, some made up of dozens of buildings, sat outside the city’s walls. These bundles of buildings lay scattered in front of Pelartis in no particular pattern. It was as if a giant had come along and threw them down like dice in a game of diamond eyes. And the structures were not built from stone or metal but a dark wood, making them look less impressive than the towers that decorated Pelartis’s skyline.
Near the back of the city lay a huge lake, with seemingly no end. It disappeared over the horizon, stopping somewhere many miles away, presumingly at the forest standing in the distance. The tops of tall trees could just be seen over the level horizon. The lake’s surface shimmered in the setting sun, adding credence to its name, Lake Shimmerbright. Hundreds of large ships and smaller vessels sat on the sapphire surface, slowly sailing to a stop, preparing to end their assumed fish harvesting for the night. The businesses along the dozens of piers, whose ends the party could just barely make out because of where they stood, even appeared to be slowing as the day faded away.
With the sunlight dying and the sky turning a darker shade of blue by the second, the city looked majestic indeed. The huge metal plates sparked and the stone surfaces of the towers looked like they were coated in a thin layer of gold. The torches that were slowly coming to life only added to the regal appearance for the dark shadow cast by their light gave everything a beautiful contrast. For just a moment, Druzeel felt he was looking at a painting and not a real city.
“What is that?”
The question had come from Ristil and it broke the enchantment that the city had on Druzeel. He looked over at the half-elf and saw him peering at the city, near where the gates were. Druzeel turned his head to where Ristil was looking.
At first, he saw nothing, but that did not mean there was nothing there. Half-elves had much better eyesight then humans but far less superior to that of their full-blooded relatives. After a few moments, what Ristil had first spied came into view for everyone else.
It appeared to be a small cloud of dust gathering near the front gate. No, not gathering, Druzeel suddenly realized, but moving along the road. As he continued to watch the peculiar cloud, it appeared that it was moving in their direction. After a few more moments, the cause of the cloud became clear, and the source did not bode well for the weary travelers.
“Pillars,” Vistalas said, referring to the city guard. Druzeel had never been to Pelartis, but he had made it a point, encouraged by his teacher, to study and read about the surrounding areas, and that included nearby cities.
The Pillars were the guards of the city, much as the Lances were in Atlurul. They wore an orange platemail edged with bright blue and took their jobs very seriously. The men and women lucky enough to become Pillars had to go through extensive training and preparation. Climbing the ranks was rumored to be even more difficult. They had eleven designations for rank, the first nine being simple numbers, starting at First Pillar and ending at Ninth Pillar. The next rank was captain, which was reserved for only the bravest and most courageous Pillars. The final position was high captain. That place was filled by a single individual and he or she had control and command over the entire guard. Currently, if Druzeel remembered correctly, that ranking was held by a dwarf of some renown.
“They’re heading our way,” Jannda observed.
“And they don’t look happy,” Ristil added, the Pillars being close enough for his half-elven eyes to make out their faces. He suddenly seemed anxious.
“How many?” Brask asked, still unable to make out individual guards in the mass heading toward them.
“I count perhaps twenty,” Ristil said. “All on horseback.”
“Do we flee?” Vistalas asked. Druzeel thought the question strange for they had no reason to run, even if the people heading towards them looked hostile. They had done no wrong and had nothing to hide. Why would they flee?
“No,” Brask answered, watching the men. “They know we are here.”
“There is nowhere to flee to anyway,” Dex said. His comment held truth for they were in the open plains. Their horses were tired and any suitable protection lay many days behind them. If they did turn to run, the Pillars would ride them down in a matter of minutes.
“All right,” Brask said, sitting up straight in his saddle. He held his chest out and wore a look of strength. Whatever business the Pillars had with the group, Brask was not going to approach the situation showing any weakness. “Line up and keep your hands on your reins. No hostile movements. Let’s see what this is about. And don’t do anything stupid.” As he spoke the last sentence, he eyes fell only on Druzeel, who just looked away, watching the guards’ approach.
The ground rumbled as twenty armored horses, no doubt trained war steeds, thundered towards them. The man in front, dressed just as Druzeel had read and wearing a helm with a cerulean pl
ume, raised his hand high. A longspear was clutched tightly in his fist and he swept it around in front of him. The men following fanned out, effectively surrounding the party. Each of them held spears as well and as the guards brought their steeds to a halt, the ones behind the party leveled them at the Knights’ backs. The lead man, apparently a captain–Druzeel could tell this by the insignia he wore on his chest, which was four golden pillars etched into his armor–came to a stop just a few feet from Brask. He wore a closely shaved beard, long brown hair, and held blue eyes that looked as hard as the metal plates decorating the buildings of the city he came from. Druzeel knew that there would be no intimidating this one.
“Identify yourselves!” the captain barked in a serious tone. Something had defiantly riled this man and the others that rode with him. They looked ready for a fight, a battle they did not intend to lose.
“Is this how Pelartis greets travelers now?” Brask asked, his own voice filled with annoyance. Druzeel thought it best to just cooperate but wasn’t about to tell Brask his opinion. Perhaps he wanted to show strength instead of cowing to the captain right away. The captain just narrowed his eyes.
“I said identify yourselves,” the captain repeated, his eyes flashing with rising anger. “Now.” The guards behind him tightened their grips on their spears. Brask took an angry breath, but did as the captain ordered.
“We are the Knights of the Chipped Blade,” he said, motioning to his men, even Druzeel. “I am Brask Battlebeard, leader of this mercenary band.” He went on to name each of the others, once again, including Druzeel in his explanation. As he spoke, Druzeel noticed the guards take on an even more disgusted look. Apparently, they did not look kindly upon mercenaries. The others seemed to notice the disdain as well and a few fingers started to slip from their reins, yearning for hilts.
“What business have you in Pelartis?” the captain then asked. He seemed impatient and anxious, itching to use his spear. What could have happened to cause such behavior? Druzeel wondered. Had they done something wrong? Were certain travelers not welcomed?
“We’re mercenaries,” Brask replied simply. “Looking for work.”
“And where is it you came from?”
“Many different places,” Brask responded without pause. The captain looked angrier than ever.
“You would do well to cooperate,” he said, his teeth clenched together.
“Cooperate with what?” Brask asked, holding his hands out to the side. “You ride toward us with spears, violence written across your faces. Then you surround us and start making demands of us without telling us why. If this is how you treat every stranger that happens to come within a few hundred yards of your city, it is a wonder you have any visitors at all. Now, if you want to get past this useless line of questioning and tell us what the hells is going on, perhaps we can help you solve whatever is biting you in your ass.”
“You all,” the captain said, eyes burning, pointing his spear at each one of them, “are under suspicion of the murder.”
“Murder?!” Jannda blurted out. All the other Knights looked just as surprised by the captain’s proclamation.
“What are you talking about?” Brask asked as the surprise wore off. A small part of him knew what was coming but he still didn’t believe it when the captain spoke.
“We received an anonymous tip that a band of mercenaries matching your description attacked and destroyed a caravan of travelers that left Pelartis less than two days ago.”
Druzeel let out a whispered gasp, not because of the accusation, but because he suddenly understood why the assassin had set the shadow stalkers loose on the caravan. He had set them up. He knew he was being followed and since his creatures had failed in the Fairgrove Forest, he decided the use other methods to hinder the group. He could not stop the band himself, so decided to let the authorities of Pelartis do the job for him. He, or one of his associates, had obviously tipped off the guards, and now here they were, ready to arrest them, or something worse. He looked to Dex to whisper what he had just realized but could see by his expression that he had already come to the same conclusion. By the angry look the others wore, they knew it as well. As small part of him thought they should have figured out the assassin’s motives sooner, but it had been a long trip full of...other events that had made all their minds stray.
“So,” Brask said, not surprised by what he had just heard, “you take this tip and ride out towards us with spears leading the way, ready to run us down without hearing our side of the story? Without even confirming if this tip is true? I must say, this is not the Pelartis I remember.” That last part Brask added to let the captain know he was not new to the city. He had been to Pelartis many times in the past and had actually done work for many of its nobles and citizens.
“We have seen the destruction you are accused of,” the captain quickly pointed out, anger making him speak before thinking clearly. The guards behind him shifted in their saddles. “Our divinations have shown us the massacre left behind so we know something happened. We just don’t know who is responsible. You don’t seem surprised to hear the accusations we have leveled at you and your men.”
“Do you want to hear why?” Brask asked, silently thanking the man for being so stupid. He had just given away that they indeed knew of the caravan’s demise, a very important detail that Brask may have tried to hide. He hadn’t known they had magically located the area. The captain could have used that to try to trick them into admitting fault, even though they were not responsible. If he had been the killer, he now could have thought up a story to cover his tracks.
“Or,” Brask continued, “perhaps you have already passed judgment on us without hearing the details. Is this how the new law works in your city? Strike first before asking questions? Are you really part of the Colonnade?”
The Colonnade was the magistrate in Pelartis and was composed of a collection of judges that determined guilt or innocence. They are called Justicars and are the keepers of law in the city of towers. The leader, or most senior judge, was called the Master Justicar and he or she was the voice of the court.
“I am Captain Gilderan Risner,” the man said with pride and perhaps a little annoyance at the accusation he was rushing to judgment. “I was given an order to find and question you, and take you into custody if necessary.”
“You have no authority over us!” Vistalas said in anger. He did not like being threatened, especially with imprisonment. “We are not in your city.”
“You are on our lands!” the captain spat back. “Therefore you are under our authority. Furthermore, over two dozen citizens of Pelartis are dead and you are said to be the cause. Be they here or hundreds of miles away, our citizens are under our protection always and those responsible will answer for those crimes and they be submitted to the law of the Colonnade. You can continue to argue and further cast a cloud of suspicion over yourselves, or you can tell me your side of the story, as you put it, and try to clear up our confusion, if any such confusion exists! But speak quickly for my patience, and that of the spears at your back, grows thin.”
Druzeel glanced behind him and saw the ten men just itching to drive their weapons into his spine. He could only imagine what the assassin had told the guards but he could not believe they would have jumped to such conclusions without hearing all sides, but he could understand the way they felt. If his friends or family had been brutally murdered, he would want to bring the criminal to justice as soon as possible. In fact, he was on this journey to do just that. Like the people in the caravan, Vallia had been brutally murdered and he was trying to bring her killer to justice.
He turned around and looked at the captain, whose gaze was locked on Brask. Brask stared right back at him, anger clearly displayed on his face. After a few moments of tense silence, the man finally spoke.
“We have been tracking a thief across the land who has stolen property from our employer. He sent a handful of creatures called shadow stalkers against us soon after leaving the city o
f Atlurul. We destroyed the stalkers and continued on our way, eventually coming across the caravan, but by the time we arrived, it was already destroyed. We found evidence that it was another set of shadow stalkers that destroyed the caravan. We checked for survivors but there were none. We gathered the bodies, lined them up, and left.”
Brask had conveniently left out the part of them looting the bodies, but Druzeel knew if he had told the Pillars that little detail, things would have only gotten worse for them. This was one time Druzeel listened to Brask’s advice and kept his mouth shut, even though he didn’t like it.
“So you want us to believe that the shadow stalkers, the same creatures that the assassin set upon you, were ordered to attack the caravan as well?” The captain sounded skeptical. “Why would he do that? What could this supposed assassin gain by killing innocent people? And why would you leave the bodies so exposed, to be picked apart by scavengers?”
“The assassin had a head start on us and we could not take the time to give those people a proper burial,” Brask said. “Besides, that’s not our responsibility.” The captain narrowed his eyes in disgust. Druzeel looked at Brask with a nasty look as well. He didn’t have to rub it in their faces. If he did not control his temper, he could doom them all.
“As for why the thief sent the stalkers on the caravan,” Brask continued, “he had them killed to set us up.”
“Set you up?!” the captain said in disbelief. The other guards wore looks of skepticism as well. It was clear that the party had much more explaining to do if they were going to get out of this mess unscathed.
“He knows we are following him,” Brask said, referring to the assassin. “His attack in the forest failed, so he decided to use you as a tool to slow us down. What better way than to have us framed for murder and get us thrown in a dungeon or chased all the way back to Atlurul. Think about it,” Brask then said, getting angry at the captain’s apparent stupidity. “If we had killed those in the caravan, why would we come here? Why would we risk being caught? We could have just as easily turned around and you would have never seen us.”
The captain’s anger seemed to diminish just a little, as did the others. It wasn’t much but it did bring a sigh of relief to Druzeel and the others. The man seemed to seriously be considering Brask’s words for it did make sense. A man did not kill another then take his wife for his own. Too much suspicion would be cast upon him, yet it would be the perfect way to profess his innocence for only an insane person would act in such a way after committing such a crime. The captain appeared to be having the same thought for his next words served to destroy that small amount of relief the party was feeling.
“Your story is far from solid,” the captain said in a calmer voice than before, “and is full of uncertainty. And the whys do not concern me. What concerns me are the dead citizens left behind and the murderer or murderers that are running free. You will need to come with us for questioning while we retrieve the bodies and do our own investigation.”
Brask knew that the eventual outcome of this confrontation would lead to this conclusion, but he didn’t have to like it. He let out a growl and ground his teeth together, focusing his wrath on the captain.
“The assassin has already killed dozens of innocents trying to slow us down,” Brask replied, doing his best to drill some sense into the captain. Nothing infuriated him more than blatant stupidity. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to rip the axe from his back and drive it into the man’s brain, but he held his anger in check. “How many more are going to die because of your stupidity? How many more will perish because you can’t make a decision without some politician telling you what to do?”
The captain sat up a little straighter in his saddle and his gauntleted hand tightened even more on the shaft of his spear. If the wood hadn’t been as sturdy as it was, it would have snapped in half. The guards around him shared the same reactions. Even the horses seemed incensed by Brask’s words for they stomped the ground in irritation.
“You will come with us now,” the captain said slowly and with promised violence, “or we will kill you where you stand.”
Druzeel suddenly felt a stab of fear surge through him. Would the captain really order their execution? Was that even legal? They hadn’t been convicted of a crime nor had they been given any sort of trail. How could the captain, a man that was supposed to uphold the law, defend the innocent, and prevent injustice, stand there and threaten them so? Could he be letting his anger be getting the best of him? Druzeel knew Brask had a talent for inciting rage, but this went far beyond a simple disagreement. If he made the wrong choice in the next few seconds, his actions could be the death of them all.
Luckily, Brask made what Druzeel saw was the only choice they had. He raised his hands in compliance, submitting himself and the others to the authorities of Pelartis.
The captain relaxed, but still kept a firm grip on his spear, as did his men. The Pillars at the Knights’ backs raised their weapons but kept them at the ready, just in case. Years of training told them that no one was ever truly nonthreatening until they were dead, sometimes not even then.
“You will surrender your weapons and submit to a search, to make sure you are hiding nothing that can be used against us,” the captain stated.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Ristil commented.
The captain motioned for them to dismount. They obeyed and soon found themselves standing on the soft grass. Half the Pillars including the captain dismounted as well and walked up to them, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of violence, but the party followed the captain’s instructions without complaint. A handful of guards approached Thorstar with more than a little caution for the large warrior did not look happy about their current situation and he was bigger than any Pillar surrounding them.
“Drop your weapons to the ground,” the captain ordered.
With anger and hatred, the Knights followed the order. Brask actually threw his weapons down, his distaste of the whole situation on display for all to see. One of his daggers actually sunk into the ground blade first, inches away from the foot of one of the Pillars standing in front of him. The man took a step back and narrowed his eyes in irritation.
“Arms out,” the captain then said. Once more, they did as instructed.
Druzeel stood at the end of the line, arms held parallel to the ground. He watched as the guard whose foot Brask had almost impaled slowly move forward and search the large man for hidden weapons. The other Pillars followed suit, one to each member of the party.
“You are a wizard?”
Druzeel looked forward, into the face of a younger Pillar with gray eyes, blond hair, and a smooth face. His expression held no animosity, only uncertainty. He looked like one who was just following orders and who had yet to come to a conclusion about the party.
“Yes,” Druzeel replied as the man peeked into the folds of his robes. He had dropped all his daggers to the ground.
“Cast no magic or spell,” the guard said as he ran his hands along Druzeel’s arms and along his sides. “We will also need your spellbook and any magical trinket that could be used as a weapon.”
“My staff lay on my horse, as well as my book,” Druzeel said calmly. “And you have nothing to fear from me. I will follow your captain’s orders.”
“You seem awfully calm for a man being accused of murder.”
“Why get upset?” Druzeel said, making the guard’s eyebrows rise. “I have done nothing wrong. Your investigation will clear us.”
“Your companions don’t seem to share your composure,” the man replied with a bit of surprise, kneeling down and patting the sides of Druzeel’s boots. “You been with them long? You look a little young to be a mercenary.”
“Actually, no,” Druzeel said. “I joined with them only recently. My mentor is their employer and he wanted me to–”
“Shut it!” came Brask’s curt voice from down the line. Druzeel and the guard searching him looked over and saw
the big man staring at both of them though his gaze quickly settled on Druzeel. “They want to question us, they can do it in the city. Shut your mouth until more intelligent people come before us.”
“It makes no difference whether it us or them,” the captain said, clearly amused at the exchange. “We’ll learn all of it eventually.” Brask only leaned back and glared at the captain.
The guards finished their search and stepped away from the Knights, confident they were not hiding anything. The captain ordered Brask and his men back on their horses, but before they could get to their saddles, a Pillar stepped forward, his eyes falling to Ristil and the piece of jewelry hanging around his neck.
“Hold it!” he said and rushed forward. He grabbed the half-elf by the shoulders and forced him to face him.
“Remove your hands before I do it for you,” Ristil threatened.
“What is it?” the captain asked, quickly moving over to see what the commotion was about. He steadied his grip on his spear.
“Where did you get this?” the Pillar asked, his voice suddenly filled with anger. Between his fingers sat the star-shaped locket that sat on the end of the golden necklace Ristil had taken from the dead woman in the caravan. The guard was staring at it in recognition.
“What’s it to you?” Ristil asked, but his voice said that he knew exactly what it was to the man.
Just as Druzeel had feared, as the others should have known, the woman from the caravan had friends or family that would recognize her belongings, especially something as valuable as the necklace hanging from Ristil’s neck. The half-elf knew it right away and realized his mistake. The necklace should have been tucked away beneath his shirt, but it was too late now. Brask looked as though he knew what was coming as well. Figures, Druzeel thought to himself. We get the one contingent of warriors that happens to have riding with them a relative or friend of one of the caravan’s victims. Perhaps that was why the man was here to begin with. He knew the woman was in the caravan and wanted to face her supposed murders. This did not bode well for the Knights.
“What’s it to me?” the guard said, his face showing his anger clearly. He then reached up and opened the locket. Inside were two pictures. One was of the woman that had died in the caravan. The other was of the man standing before Ristil, holding the locket.
“She’s my cousin,” the man said, his blazing eyes slowly rising to meet Ristil’s face. The half-elf just remained silent. The captain was not as quiet.
“You are all under arrest for murder!” he yelled, motioning for his men to aim their spears at the party. The others gladly complied and the Knights soon found themselves surrounded by spear tips. The man holding the locket glared at Ristil then ripped the necklace from his neck.
“Murderer!” he seethed. Tears started to form in his eyes.
“No!” Druzeel proclaimed.
“Silence!” the captain screamed while throwing his spear to the ground and searching for manacles. He came up with a heavy pair and walked toward Ristil, who backed away, eyes falling to his weapons than lay only a few feet in front of him. Brask also eyed his weapons, not willing to accept this new twist of fate. He would not be thrown into a dungeon for something he had not done.
“We were returning their belongings,” Vistalas suddenly said, his voice rising to be heard over the commotion. The thief was thinking quickly, coming up with the only thing he saw that would allow them to avoid bloodshed. What he had come up with was weak at best, but the only thing he could think of.
“What?!” the captain asked, his head twisting to the side.
“We took your people’s belongings,” Vistalas explained, “but we were going to return them when we reached the city.”
“You expect us to believe,” the captain started, his voice thick with amazement and disbelief, “that out of the kindness of your heart, you took their belongings and intended to return them? You slaughtered them in the night and looted their bodies!”
“We took their things, yes,” Vistalas said, “but only to bring them back to their loved ones.” Druzeel would have rolled his eyes but he knew the motion would get him killed, by both the Pillars and his companions.
“And how had you planned on doing that?” the guard who had torn the necklace from Ristil’s neck asked. “Had you opened the locket? Did they tell you who to look for? Did you ask them where their families were before cutting them to pieces?! How could you possible return these things to people who you have never met?”
“You murdered them,” the captain said before Vistalas could respond.
“He was wearing the necklace so we could find their loved ones,” Dex quickly replied. The captain and guard rounded on him.
“Lies!” the woman’s cousin shouted.
“He was wearing it so someone would see it,” Dex explained. “As you said, we could not know who these things belonged to. Vistalas wanted someone to recognize the locket so we could return it to its rightful owner.”
“As well as the others things we brought with us,” Druzeel added.
Everyone, both the Pillars and the Knights, turned and stared at Druzeel. He suddenly felt like a sheep, standing before a starving dragon, but he held their gaze. They had stolen from the dead, against his objections, been caught, and were now facing the consequences of their actions. If they had only listened to him, they would not be in this predicament. Druzeel thought that the best way to get out of this mess was to be honest and return what they had taken. Clearly, Brask and the others did not agree, but there was little they could do about it now.
The captain walked forward, coming within an inch of Ristil’s face. “I want everything,” he said in quiet rage. He then turned and looked at Brask. “Everything you took from them, on the ground. Now.”
“Of course,” Dex replied, trying to calm the men surrounding them. Though he had nothing to put on the ground, he motioned for the others to do as the captain asked. They did and in moments, everything they had taken from the caravan sat on the ground at the captain’s feet.
“You have nothing?” the captain asked, looking at Dex. The man just shook his head. “What about you?” the captain then asked, his eyes finding Druzeel. Druzeel shook his head. As the captain turned from him, he caught Brask, Ristil, Vistalas, and Thorstar looking at him in anger. Even Jannda held a look of disappointment. Dex remained expressionless.
“This...admission does nothing to diminish our distrust of you,” the captain said. “In fact, it only heightens our suspicion and makes me think you are indeed guilty of this crime. But as I said, I am not part of the Colonnade and judgment is reserved for them. You will be taken to the city and questioned. Then you will be judged, one way or the other.”
The captain turned to his men and ordered five of them to travel to the caravan and return with what they could. The rest would accompany him and the suspects into the city. More men would be sent to help return the dead when they reached Pelartis.
The Pillars mounted their horses, followed by Brask and his men. They set off toward the city, spears still leveled at the Knights’ backs. Though they were not shackled and technically not under arrest, Druzeel knew they were prisoners of the guards and would remain so until they were cleared. He had faith they would be for he believed in the law and justice, but even after they were cleared, he knew his troubles would continue. The looks Brask and the others had given him promised that they would not soon forget that he had exposed them to the Pillars. He suddenly found himself wanting the protection of a dungeon.
* * * * *