“It was a harrowing time for me. I felt completely alone. I did not realize how much I needed her until she was gone.” – Toren Eringer

Through the remainder of the day and well into the night, Eringer walked the streets alone. He checked every stable he could find, asked people on the street, and talked to various shopkeepers to see if they had heard of a lone white horse wandering about. Every few minutes, he tried to reach out to her with his mind, just in case it worked.

For all his effort, he found nothing.

As dawn approached, the streets began to bustle once again. Continuing the search would be impractical now, and Eringer was beyond exhausted. He regretfully headed back to the hotel, where he only managed to doff half his armor before collapsing on the bed.

With his thoughts occupied by the lost steed, the rest was fitful. Nightmares plagued his mind before he awoke with a start. The only saving grace was that the details of the nightmares slipped away almost immediately. The emotions and guilt remained, however.

It was midday by the time Eringer made his way downstairs. He rarely felt hungry when stressed, so he usually had to force himself to eat. Today was no different; he mechanically ate the food the barmaid laid before him, barely registering the flavor.

Eringer was a fairly private person. For the most part, he kept his own counsel. When he did get into a predicament, or wanted to bounce ideas off someone, he talked to Sam.

She was not as intelligent as most people, but she was insightful and pleasant to talk with. Her time spent on her native plane gave her a unique perspective. Eringer also trusted her more than any humanoid he knew.

Dwelling on this will probably get me nowhere. Perhaps I can get some answers by continuing my investigation.

The man proceeded to the apothecary, again in gear, but minus his shield. Not having Sam slowed him down significantly. People moved out of the way of a horse instinctually, but for many, an armored man was simply not the same.

Eringer spent a minute outside lowering his heart rate after the trek from the inn, just in case something unexpected were to happen.

When sufficiently calm, he entered the shop again. The man removed his helmet, holding it against his side with his right hand.

“Good afternoon, what can I…” Aberthal began, before looking up and noticing the imposing man. “Oh, umm, hi again. I didn’t expect to see you since you didn’t show this morning. My runner is off and not due to return today.”

“I see. Well, I hope you can help me in another matter.”

“Umm, yes, if I can.”

“Excellent. Who was the elf that was in here yesterday, not too long after I left?”

The woman thought for a moment before answering. “Well a customer, of course. Why were you watching my shop? Are you some kind of thief planning to steal my wares?”

“No, ma’am, I am not a criminal.” Eringer took a step closer to the woman, who backed up into the shelves on the wall behind her. The bottles and vials upon the shelf rattled, clinking glass lightly.

“Wha… What are you doing? There are guards outside I could call!”

“That will not be necessary. I have reason to believe the elf has captured my steed, and I would have her information if you are willing to provide it.”

“Oh, well I am sorry to hear that. I am afraid I am not in the business of giving away customers’ personal information. At least not for free.” She raised an eyebrow as she stared at Eringer.

The man approached the counter while reaching into his pouch, “Would a gold piece do?” He placed it before the woman.

She seemed calmer now, seeing that the encounter was merely an exchange. “I suppose. Now I am afraid I don’t know where she lives, though I believe her residence is just outside the western shanty town. Her name is Aerlyn Windfellow.”

“What does she do for work? Is she under your employ?”

“Gods no, I would not employ that woman. She occasionally comes in to buy some items.”

“She was here at the same time as that man who entered the shop not long after I left, do they have any connection to each other?”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, “Well if you are asking if they know one another, then yes. They exchanged words over there by the side door, though I wasn’t privy to that conversation.”

“Anything else you can think of?”

Again, Aberthal swayed awkwardly, “No, I don’t think so.”

Eringer reached into his pouch again, “Would another gold coin help you remember?”

She nodded, accepting the money. She also leaned in, whispering, “They were talking about tricking someone, from what I heard. At this point, I surmise they were talking about you. Aerlyn is involved in some shady business, but I don’t ask questions of paying customers.”

“And the man?”

“A local. Not a big fan of his, to be honest. He comes in often, but rarely buys anything. I have heard him called ‘Maron,’ but I am not sure if that is his real name.”

“Final question, I think. He walked out with a package; do you have any insight as to what that could have been?”

“Unfortunately no. Aerlyn brought it in and I didn’t ask. I don’t think she would have told me even if I had.”

“Thank you for the information, I appreciate the help.” The veteran pulled another gold coin from his pocket and placed it on the counter, then turned to leave.

“Wait! The man, Maron, is often seen at a tavern down the street, Shadow’s Foil. I expect you might see him there in the evening some night. Any night, really”

Eringer nodded, “Again, thank you for the help.”

“I hope you find your horse!”

He glanced back, giving her an appreciative wave and a slight smile as he donned his helmet and exited the small shop.

The armored man pondered which lead to take, as he had some options before him. He would likely have to wait for evening to find Maron at the tavern nearby. He still had the address for Sherrill, too. Perhaps pursuing that woman could lead to some information about Sam.

Eringer turned left, heading away from the shop. He felt for his money pouch, keeping a hand on it in the busy street just in case. It felt considerably lighter than when he arrived. I might need a way to earn some coin. I am going through my reserve quickly.

-

Sherrill’s address was a home. At least, Eringer believed that people lived inside. It appeared to be little more than a shack. Looking up and down the street, there was no one in sight.

From the outside, it seemed like a strong breeze might blow it over. Boards were hanging off the side, with panels leaning against other portions of the one story structure. The door looked like it was made from reclaimed wood, not even a single solid piece.

He walked up and knocked three times. Each one caused the door to give a little as it rattled. The veteran was not feeling optimistic about this lead.

About half a minute passed when he heard the padding of bare feet on wood approaching the door from the other side. A single lock was released and the door inched open. A human woman’s face appeared in the space.

“Yes?”

The armored man put a foot near the slightly ajar door as he said, “Hello ma’am. I am looking for someone and was hoping you could help me.”

“If I can, I’ll try. Who ya lookin for?”

“A woman by the name of Sherrill.”

The woman quickly replied, “Sorry, afraid I don’t know her.” She tried to close the door, but met resistance in the form of Eringer’s boot.

“Are you sure you have not heard of her?”

Her face disappeared and she was now pushing hard against the door, trying to close it.

With his foot still stopping the door, he reared back and slammed his shoulder into the aging wood. The force of his body left an impression in the door, which also flung open. The woman, now fully visible, was on her back and scrambling to get up.

“I do not want to hurt you, but I need some answers.” He moved quickly into the shack, reaching out to restrain the woman.

She shifted her weight while up on one knee, but Eringer still did not see it coming. A dagger flashed in her right hand, sinking into his left side under the plate armor. She removed it as quickly as it was brandished while she spun around to sweep his legs.

He was much too heavy. Even surprised, his legs remained rooted. He easily grabbed her left leg, which was closest, and turned her over while bringing a knee to her back. She flailed with the knife wildly, but he gripped her wrist with his other hand and roughly slammed it to the ground. She was pinned without hope of escape since he weighed almost three times what she did with his body and gear combined.

“Enough! What do you know?”

She gritted her teeth, struggling under his weight. She said nothing in response.

This time, he compelled her with magic, “Speak.”

Her muscles loosened as her body relaxed. “I know of you. You’re the soldier, the one that killed some of my friends.”

“I believe you are referring to my kidnappers.”

“What’s to keep you from killin me after I tell you.”

“I swear you will live if you give me the information I am after.”

“What do you want to know?”

“A few things. For starters, do you know where my horse might be?”

“Horse? What horse?”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“A white steed, female. Any idea?”

“No. I mean, I’ve seen white horses around, but I don’t know what you’re talkin about.”

“Alright, what about that night your friends kidnapped me? Why did they do it? Who do you work for?”

“Do I look like I’m rich!? Look around, I got nothin!”

“Please answer the questions I ask, you are deflecting.”

“Fine. I don’t know why they kidnapped you. I was asked to check in on them, since there was word they were doin something that night. I heard some commotion when I arrived, but no one was there by the time we got into the place.”

“We?”

“Yes, but I’m not givin up anyone!”

“Who do you work for?”

“I said I wouldn’t give up any names.”

“Very well. Where do you typically conduct business? Where can I find someone with answers you do not seem to have?”

“There’s a basement. Underground. It’s underneath a tavern not too far from here. The Squawkin Sparrow.”

“Ah, I am familiar with the place. Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t think they’ll let you in. You already trespassed here. For a soldier, you seem alright with breakin laws willy-nilly.”

“Well your people attacked me. Now they have stolen my steed. If the city will not bring you all to justice, I will have to do it myself.”

“Wait! You said you wouldn’t kill me!”

“And I will not.” Eringer raised his left arm, then punched the woman in the head with his gauntlet, just enough to knock her out. Years of practice on various races during the wars had given him the ability to knock people out without causing any lasting damage. That should keep her out of the picture until at least the morning. He put a hand on his side, utilizing magic to seal the wound.

He then got up, electing to look around briefly for any clues as to who this woman was and what she really did. The veteran realized he had not asked her name, but it seemed quite likely it was Sherrill.

A few copper coins lay out on the table, as well as some dirty dishes. As he looked around, the place was quite a mess. And I thought the outside looked run down, he thought as he investigated.

All the items he found were of the cheapest quality. This woman lived a squalid life, causing Eringer to give up after only a few minutes of searching.

He walked out, closing the door behind him. The veteran hoped the Squawking Sparrow had some useful information.

-

Knock, knock, knock.

The walk over to the tavern was uneventful. The street was as busy as ever, but the basement door under the tavern was tucked away in an alley, completely out of site. It was quite obvious that this would rarely be seen, even with it not being well hidden. If he had not known better, he would have assumed it was a cellar.

“Password?” someone asked behind the door.

I should have expected this. “Open up!”

There was no response. He listened carefully, but did not hear anything on the other side.

He walked back up to the street level, proceeding to the end of the alley to look around. While he observed, he began to notice something unusual. There was a suspicious lack of any guards.

If there was a shift change or something, perhaps they were running late. Eringer continued waiting, yet no guard came by. As far as he could tell prior to this, they normally patrolled all the commonly travelled areas.

After an hour, he took it as a sign. First, there was likely some illegal activity either under this tavern or nearby, perhaps both. Second, at least some of the guards must be in on whatever is happening.

I doubt guards will respond here quickly, if at all, he thought. Eringer turned, heading for the basement door once again.

This time, he did not knock. From the top of the stairs, he readied himself to push in his second door for the day. This one would be a lot more difficult, however, because he was certain there was at least one lock latched.

Charging down the stairs, he lowered his right shoulder this time, crashing into the door. It creaked under the blow, but did not open. The door did not feel particularly strong, though, so he backed up to do the same thing again. He was certain they would know what was going on inside, but doubted anyone out in the street would notice. The sound of traffic effectively drowned out other noises completely.

This time, he pulled his sword out, just in case a nasty surprise was waiting for him behind the door.

Once again, he barreled down the stairs and into the basement door. It burst open, slamming into the wall and bouncing back toward him. There were two men in the hallway, both wide eyed. One had his mouth agape, with bits of food falling out as he held a sandwich in one hand and a small plate in the other. The second was a burly dwarf, who immediately reached for the mace at his side.

“Stand down!” he pointed at the dwarf with his arm outstretched, sword staring the other man in the face.

It did not seem to phase him. The short man swung his mace, intentionally pushing the sword away as he stepped inside the reach of the intruder. He attacked Eringer with another swing, but it merely bounced off the armor.

Eringer shoved the man back, enough to bring his sword to bear. He thrust it forward, stabbing the dwarf in the stomach while igniting the blade with radiant magic.

The mace wielding man staggered backward, clutching his stomach with his free hand. “Help me!” he pleaded to the human nearby.

A few feet back, that man holding his sandwich finally reacted, dropping everything and turning to flee down the hallway.

“Bastard! Get back here!” The dwarf was angry, continuing to back away while holding up his mace.

“Stand down. If you do, I can heal some of that wound in exchange for information.”

The dwarf was slumped over, pain etched the parts of his face not covered by his medium length beard. He opened his dominant hand, allowing the mace to fall to the ground with a thud. “Alright, patch me up and I’ll tell you what you want.”

The veteran sheathed his sword and closed the door behind him. He then approached the dwarf, and used his god’s magic to close up the wound. He healed enough that the man could walk away, but not completely in case the dwarf reneged on the deal. He also wanted to keep at least a small reserve, as he was running low on healing.

“What do you want to know?”

“Will your friend that ran away be getting others to come attack me?”

“Probably.”

“How much time do I have before they get here?”

“A few minutes, maybe less.”

“What are you doing down here? What illegal activity are you involved in?”

“Who said this was illegal? I merely deal in information.”

That sounded like a lie, or at best, a half-truth. “Do you know anything about a missing horse? It would be white and quite unique.”

“No, I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

Eringer grimaced. This was getting nowhere. “Then let us look through these rooms together.” He grabbed the man’s shirt next to the collar and unceremoniously pushed him toward the nearest interior door. “Open that, please.”

The other man opened the door and they both stepped through the threshold. There were boxes stacked all over the room. A variety of different box sizes were there, lined in rows.

There was no way he would be able to search these in the next few minutes, so they moved on to the next room.

Here there was a shelf, table with chairs, and a desk layed out in an organized fashion. What interested Eringer the most, however, was that the shelf was clearly slid to the side, and a passageway was staring at him.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the opening in the wall.

“An opening in the wall.”

Eringer smacked him on the back of the head, “Where does it go?”

“Oww.” The dwarf rubbed his head while replying, “To another building. Can I go now?”

I cannot have him get out and warn others, even if the other guy already has. Would be unfortunate to get caught between two groups. He gestured with his head toward the door.

When the dwarf turned around, Eringer wrapped an arm around his neck, catching him in a chokehold. The other man thrashed around, trying to get away. Within ten seconds, however, he was passed out from the grapple. The armored man laid him down gently.

Eringer then drew his sword, grabbed the torch that was lighting the room, and entered the tunnel.

Though the tunnel was tall enough for him to easily fit, he found himself hunching over slightly. It was only a few feet wide, which would make swinging his sword rather difficult. He hoped it would not come to that down here.

There was no evidence of light other than the flickering torch in his right hand, which only lit the ground a dozen paces ahead. As he shuffled forward rather quickly, he began to wonder who had built this and what it was being used for. He had heard of secret tunnels before, but this was quite long.

He came to an intersection. Hmm. Left, right, or forward?

Two blue flashes of light came from ahead of him, briefly lighting up the person they originated from. An elf. The beams missed, striking the wall to his right leaving traces of ice.

Eringer sprinted forward, sword in front with the torch held slightly aloft so he could see.

The elf sent two more ice blasts, one hitting the wall again, but the other snuffed out his torch.

Damnit! Eringer knew fighting blind could be a death sentence, so he willed his feet to carry him faster toward his target. Fortunately, these tunnels were narrow. He was also a rather large human when wearing his full plate.

The sword did not connect, but he barreled into the elf at full speed.

The slight humanoid grunted as he was pushed into the wall. Eringer was aware the elf could see in the dark just fine, which was how he easily avoided the sword.

The momentum carried the heavier man forward, far past the elf as he came to a stop. He turned around, trying to ram the other man again. With no reference, he grazed the walls as he tried to run straight. He heard some movement ahead, but it was far too difficult to run in these tunnels blind.

Bolts started flying from behind him. The first few struck only armor, or the stone walls. Eringer turned again, holding his arms up to protect the weaker parts of his armor. Though it was magical and effective, eventually the crossbowmen would get a lucky shot. I should not have come in here.

Flashes of light came from behind him again as ice bolts struck him. One froze on his armor, but the other hit him just above his right armpit. It sunk in, if only a little bit. The ice stung and burned simultaneously as he pressed forward, trying to to reach the bowmen.

Some glancing shots were starting to cut him. None of it was lethal, yet, but it was going to add up quickly if he did not do something about it.

“Krealyn, I need help!” he called out.

Look past the darkness.

He had not expected to hear her. “What do you mean?” A bolt sunk into the front right shoulder, between the plates, as another ice bolt cut him on the left side.

Believe you can see, and you shall.

The missiles, both magical and mundane, continued to pelter him. Eringer closed his eyes, pausing in place during the onslaught. I can see. I shall open my eyes, and see my enemy.

He opened his eyes, but still only darkness remained. “How? How can this work?”

Believe.

The sword grew warm in his hand and the pale purple light pulsed from the blade, though it did not light up the tunnel. I believe.

Slowly, as if a fog was lifting, the tunnel came into view before him, in shades of grey. Ten paces ahead, two dwarves wielding crossbows were standing. They were staggered, one in the lead with the other only slightly behind, both angled so they could fire down the tunnel.

Eringer smirked, then sprinted at them. He enchanted his blade with the familiar magic to improve its ability to cut through defenses.

They each fired another bolt, both missing as they came to the realization simultaneously that their target could see them. “Run!” the nearest one cried out.

It was too late for that. Eringer bull rushed the first, knocking the dwarf to the ground. He then stabbed the second.

The mage lobbed one last blast, which ricocheted off the wall, then turned and fled.

The dwarf on the ground called out, “Hulair, come back!”

They fought desperately, but it was clear neither was particularly good in melee. Their plan was a solid one and Eringer could not blame them for the oversight. He certainly would not have thought a human could see in the dark.

Eringer dispatched the two easily, despite his injuries. He removed the bolt in his arm and used the last of his healing to close up the most serious wounds. He would have to tend to some of the others with basic equipment as soon as he got out of these tunnels.

The veteran searched the bodies, finding some much needed coin and a handful of weapons he could probably sell. The bloodied armor he left, however, thinking it would be a little awkward to explain to any passing guards.

Now that I know these tunnels exist, I can come search them once I am healed and more prepared. He went back the way he came, returning to the room under the Squawking Sparrow.

It was just as he had left it, sleeping dwarf and all.

Eringer slid the shelf back over the tunnel entrance. He did a hasty search of the room, finding some letters and a ledger. They will know I was here. Might as well take as much as I can to figure out what is happening in Mith-Fell.

He found a bag on the unconscious dwarf, which he put all the supplies and evidence he had gathered into.

While walking out, he realized how tired and injured he was. The adrenaline finally wore off, and some much needed rest was in order. I am sorry, Sam. I will find you, I swear it.

He left the place without bothering to clean anything up and headed back to the inn.

-

Invocation - Devil’s Sight