High War - Chapter 9.3

The golden gate hunched below this span of giant gold wall is manned by three guards wearing ragtag chain and plate armor with only a few bits of gold trim, their captain wearing a real gold chain around her neck to show she is of higher rank. A fourth guard can be spotted peering out from an arrow slit halfway up the wall and he is the one who calls out a warning to those below.

“Group approaching, several wearing cloaks.” The two junior guards below take ready positions, their hands clamped to their silver lances. “Group of six or maybe seven … yes, seven, three of them are short as Small Folk. Cloak colors are two of mixed browns and one white. The rest wear armor or clothes.”

The captain turns to her junior guards, “Relax a little. Remember, stay limber and ready to move.” The two nod, and she calls up to the watching guard, “Keep the reports coming.”

“No obvious weapons, I think one of the brown cloaks has a crossbow. One wearing a lot of armor has some kind of hilt but I don't see steel, could be a club. Oh! Two appear to be tied up and held as prisoners, an Orc and a Small Folk. Neither is cloaked.”

The Captain nods and speaks in a reassuring tone, “The enemy wouldn't be bringing us prisoners. If we're very lucky someone from outside the city may have captured a few of their soldiers.”

One of the junior guards speaks up, his voice cracking, “They're coming from the orphanage town. I heard there's a Paladin living there.”

The Captain nods with a glum look, “Yeah, and she's a pain.” Again she calls up to the watcher, “The one wearing a lot of armor, is it brown like bark?”

“Yes captain, somewhat, and they are the one holding the rope.”

The Captain sighs, “Light bolster me, it's a visit from the Bark Paladin. And at a time like this.” Pointing a stern finger at the junior guards she commands them, “Stand at your best parade attention when she arrives, I don't feel like spending the next hour getting a lecture. Every time she comes to Goldenburg one of the units gets it and I don't plan on it being ours this time.”

“Captain,” the other junior guard bites her lip before speaking in a nervous whisper, “we only joined last week, you haven't taught us parade attention.”

The Captain narrows her eyes with a grimace, then shrugs, “Most people know what it means, do your best.” Sending her voice upwards, “What did I say about those reports?”

“Um, the one with a long brown cloak has a giant pack, and that cloak looks more like a long coat now. And the other brown cloak just drank from something; actually his cloak is shorter, more like a shawl of furs really. The white cloak - .”

The Captain interrupts him, “Did you say shawl of furs and drinking? Is it the Drunk?”

“Well … the body shape is right, it could be him Captain.”

“Damn, we just got rid of him. Why is everyone I hate visiting today?” She nods and counts them off to herself, “Two prisoners, the Bark Paladin, the Drunk and his boy presumably, brown coat and white cloak. Who could the other two - ?” Out of nowhere she brightens, then shouts to the watcher, “Is white cloak a Small Folk?”

“Yes Captain.”

She smiles, giddy as a schoolgirl, “Klax! He's days late but I bet it's him!” The two junior guards look askance at this outburst, but she calms herself with a deep breath then glares at them. “What? You got a problem with something?” They shake their heads in awed harmony. “Good. And if you're ever getting cheap healing at Light's Low Church, ask for Klax; he's the best they have. Someone's going to give him a last name one of these days, Holyhands or Lightborn maybe.”

“Captain, the one who might be the Drunk is waving at us.” The watcher sounds puzzled by what he is seeing as he speaks to those down below, “He's talking to white cloak and pointing at us. Can he hear us from this – Captain, he's nodding!” The watcher ducks down below the arrow slit, saying nothing as he keeps out of sight.

The Captain rolls her eyes before speaking to her juniors, “Any questions before they get here?”

“It sounds like you know most of them. Do we still have to stop them?”

“Allow me to rephrase that: any questions that aren't dumb?”

A short while later when the group is all standing before the gate, Teal hands off Talls and Shorty's rope to Klax and steps forward to address the Captain, “Greetings. We wish to enter the – the city of … .” Teal trails off, then breaks down and walks forward to put an arm around the Captain who looks too surprised to stop her. Teal seems to be crying in to the Captain's shoulder, “Thank goodness it's still standing. I thought, if we arrived and the city was gone … even as we approached and could see it clearly, if it was all a mirage somehow, I would have … I don't know, I'm just so relieved.”

The Drunk walks up and pats Teal on the back; he is crying as well, although he looks more intoxicated than anything, “There there lass, that's good. We all need a good cry sometimes, there there.”

“Father, please explain if it is in fact unhealthy or unwise to not cry.” The Drunk doesn't answer Sorrow, and Klax steps forward with an awkward smile.

“Captain, we have as many questions for you as Light tells me you must have for us, but I hope you don't mind giving miss Teal a moment. Or I can answer your questions … say, isn't four guards a bit much for the gate? Why is the gate closed at all?”

“Uh, no, that's fine.” The Captain's eyes look around for an escape but when none presents itself she makes up her own, “Please go through, I'm sure you'll be fine to enter and you can find a bench or something.” She lifts Teal's head from her shoulder with care and hands her off to the Drunk, who guides her away. “Open the gate!” After a moment the clanking of gears can be heard as the heavy wooden gate inches open. “Um, enjoy your stay?”

The Drunk hands Teal off to a delighted Rolf, then winks at the Captain as he slows to be the last through the gate, “The lass can be a pain, tis true, but she only wants others to be their best. And Klax says Lightborn is too much, though I think the lad likes Holyhands.”

The gate is soon closed again, and one of the junior guards speaks up in a worried tone, “Captain? I thought you said - .”

She growls, not looking at the junior guards nor at the city gate, “I made an exception, Damn it!”

The large open square inside the gate is a circus of activity. Humans, Orcs and even a few Small Folk wander throughout, many headed to or crowded around a long board that looks no more than a day old and is covered in fliers and postings. They wear battle-worn armor or fine clothes, jeweled rings on their fingers and weapons at their hips. Bards, acrobats and illusionists line the square and entertain the crowds for a few coins, while teens and old men wearing signboards walk back and forth calling out the splendid wares available at this or that shop. Every color in the world can be seen in this square, and all of it is moving in a swarm of dizzying action.

Rolf finds a nearby wooden bench and, after paying the previous occupants a few coins to leave, helps Teal sit. She has closed the visor of her helm again and leans back against the bench in weary silence, not interested by Rolf's offer of his lap to rest her head. Klax is stunned by the crowded square and also seems conflicted, unable to choose between holding the bandits or comforting Teal; when the Drunk offers to take the rope back he complies without a question.

The Drunk grins down at Sorrow, “Right lad, I'll take these two off to the bounty office. Can ya stay out of trouble here with the others?” Sorrow nods once. “Good, very good lad. Do ya remember what I said about city crowds?”

“Yes father, you told me to watch for pickpockets.”

“And do ya remember the tricks of a pickpocket?”

“Bumping or jostling, distractions and sleight of hand.”

“Excellent lad! Now keep those in mind and things will be fine, I'll be back before ya miss me.”

“Father, as you know I am incapable of missing you. You often leave me when going to a local bar for a drink, though in these circumstances miss Teal will - .”  Sorrow is cut off as the Drunk ruffles his hair with affection and leaves; Sorrow places one hand near his bandolier of knives and the other loose and ready at his side, then turns to go stand closer to the bench where Teal is being fussed over by Rolf and Klax. With only one step he walks in to a short Human man with coal black greasy hair who was trying to pass by. “Excuse me sir, I did not see - .”

The black-haired man takes a strange blade-less hilt from the holster at his hip and places the flat end against Sorrow's stomach, “You Damned street puke, give back what you just stole or I'll gut you.” With equal speed Sorrow grabs the man's other arm while pulling a knife and placing the needle-sharp end to the man's throat.

“I did not steal from you. If this is a distraction to cover for stealing from me, then I have the same demand.”

The two stand still as statues as the crowds roil around them, few bothering to gawk at this everyday street confrontation. The people passing by create a solid wall of clashing colors that encloses the two in a cage match of flesh and steel and cloth. Neither can blink as they lock eyes, and for a moment it seems as if the other man might laugh and walk away. The moment passes and is gone.

They act with similar and blinding speed, a dance of blades that takes less than a few heartbeats to conclude. The man pulls away from Sorrow's knife as it slashes at him, taking only a cut across the cheek instead of the fatal blow he might have received. Sorrow in turn spins around the man to escape the brilliant blade of light erupting from the hilt that cuts out through the side of his armor. Using the arm he had grabbed to position himself Sorrow stabs the man several times in the back, aiming for the man's spine and a quick end, but the man ignores the pain and switches his hold on the sword of light to slash it above his ducking head and across Sorrow's eyes, searing them and leaving Sorrow unable to see. Sorrow tries to pull at the man's arm and bring him around for another few punches from his dagger but the man uses the momentum to slash his blade at Sorrow's arm, causing Sorrow to let go of the man who flips backwards and away. The black haired man tumbles out through the crowd, bleeding from multiple terrible wounds but the clear victor; only now do the crowds react, stopping in stupefied horror as Sorrow falls to his knees, then face-down on the street.

To Sorrow the world is only pain now, a cacophony of agony from his burned eyes, lacerated arm and a cut across his side that smells of seared flesh. Another might have fainted, but for Sorrow the pain is only temporary, an alarm that is soon silenced by the creeping dead nothingness within him. Oblivion once again consumes his soul and so he raises his head an inch or two. He hears yelling in the distance, and then a calm voice just above his ear.

“Ha, no, don't sit up. No reason for you to hurt worse before I make you all better.” Hands skilled at healing inspect his wounds, then stitch together the separated flaps of skin from his arm and side like a tailor fixing torn clothes. “Sorry if my methods are slow young man, but you can't rush these things.” Sorrow says nothing as the healer does his work, now winding what feels like more thread around his head over-top of his eyes. “A good patient makes for a good job. Hah!” The thread constricts, pulling tight across his eyes and becoming a soft white glow as it sinks in to his flesh; Sorrow opens his repaired eyes to see a tall Human man crouching beside him, wearing a white coat, white pants and sporting a white beard. Sorrow in his black leathers and the man in his white are almost perfect opposites, and Sorrow blinks as if recognizing the man.

“Thank you. Please tell me if we have met before.”

“Met? You and I? Ha, no, I doubt it.” The man stands, in what is now a clear space of hushed onlookers. “I am Doctor White, a medical man by trade.”

Sorrow blinks again, then stands as well, “I have met a White before. You are like him, but also not. I am Sorrow, son of the Drunk.”

“The Drunk?” Doctor White snickers a little to himself, then speaks with kind tone and laughing eyes, “That is a big name for a young man to have as his father. Did you think a street brawl would help you live up to that name?”

“No sir. I fought to defend myself.”

The doctor smiles, “Next time focus more on your own safety then. Men of my training will not always be near.” Sorrow nods, stows his knife and walks off through the crowd as people begin moving around them again. The doctor grins and moves on as well, disappearing in to the swirl of colors.