Thin trails of smoke escaped Hadrian Baldasaar's mouth as he puffed on his small ivory pipe. He enjoyed the sweet aroma of the intoxicating yango leaf and felt that it complimented a great variety of the drinks that the Red Gryphon had to offer. Exhaling, the small Halfling fixated his eyes on the earnings that he had spread out across the small wooden table before him.
"Not bad," he said to himself as he counted twelve silver Ducats, seven crumpled one-half notes and three gold coins. "It's far from a fortune, but more than enough to fill my belly and settle the tab."
Thinking of his own aspirations, the small Halfling continued, "A few more nights like this and I'll have my own place in no time." Hadrian had long thought of establishing his own pub in the heavily traveled city of Windspear, and had even decided upon the name of his would-be tavern, the Dire Dragon. His mind entertained the vivid thoughts of revelry and festivity that the Dire Dragon would be known for and he quickly felt himself longing for a cold, thirst-quenching drink.
Scooping up the currency, he quickly deposited the money into the drawstring purse attached to his belt and quickly beckoned for Kiara, the half-Elven bar-maiden, as she passed his table.
"Bring me two more of the Dragon's Ale, my sweet," he called out, his small fingers flipping one of the silver ducats in her direction. "You can keep the change," he added, to which he was rewarded with a sly smile from the attractive woman.
"They'll be right up," she replied, snatching the coin from the air and tossing a flirtatious wink back at the smiling Hadrian.
Despite having been working at the Red Gryphon Inn for only four months, Kiara Melisande and Hadrian had a history that dated back to when he had first met Valdor. She had matured significantly since their first meeting. The young helpless lass that Hadrian had initially known her to be had blossomed into a beautiful specimen of a woman, her exotic appearance undoubtedly the result of her mixed heritage. He had been surprised to find her working the tables of his favorite watering hole and had taken much delight in their newfound companionship. Her straight dark hair was perfectly woven into a long braid that reached the center of her back, exposing her neck and shoulders. The interwoven ribbons within the braid complimented her light skin and green eyes, as did the greenish-yellow pendant that hung precariously from her neck. The pendant had been a gift from Hadrian not too long ago, carved from one of the life crystals he had collected and fitted fashionably within a gold and silver wire frame.
A wave of excitement coursed through Hadrian's body as Kiara disappeared through the throngs of patrons within the Inn. Not since leaving the confines of his home in Northern Sel' Arom many years ago had he held such affection for a female. In many ways, she reminded him of the women from his small village, save for the fact that she was about three feet taller. But that didn't matter to the Halfling.
He admired Kiara for her many attributes, key to which was her warm and caring spirit, something that most of the women of Windspear seemed to lack. The fact that she saw the same in him made his heart leap every time he laid eyes on her. She was truly a delight, he thought, angelic in her simple beauty and full of kindness.
Leaning back in his rickety chair, Hadrian took in the crowd of the old tavern as he awaited his drinks, drawing another deep pull from his pipe. The sounds of Elvish harps and flutes carried a lively melody throughout the large Inn as patrons form both far and near drank the night away. Glancing around, Hadrian was tempted to join a group of soldiers that had begun gambling in a game of Skull Dice, but thought better of engaging the drunken men. He had no doubts in his ability to swindle every last coin from the inebriated gamblers, but the prospect of having to face a group of angry soldiers afterwards didn't sit well with the small bard.
Feeling better of himself for choosing not to engage in the game, Hadrian felt compelled to add to the revelry that surrounded him. Reaching for his ruby-crusted Meshgorne, Hadrian brought the instrument to his lips and began to play a soft tune that reminded him of one of the many journeys he had partaken with Valdor some years ago.
Come listen to my song, for I have another tale,
I promised the barkeep I'd charge but one ale.
The story I tell is a frightful one indeed,
So if you're weak of heart, I beg that you take heed!
Looking around, Hadrian proceeded to blow another melodic tune from his horn, his tiny fingers feverishly working the curved instrument with astounding speed and skill. Taking in the faces among the crowd, a smile crept across his face and he realized that most of the crowd's attention has shifted to him, and once again he was in the spotlight.
I've been to a place, where death grows on trees,
Ripe for the plucking, it'll have you on your knees.
There's no other place like it, at least that's what I think,
And worse of all, there's not a drop to drink.
Pausing for a second, Hadrian reached for one of the iron mugs of Dragon Ale that was placed on his table and took a foaming mouthful of the refreshing drink. Loud cheers rang out from all around as many of his drunken listeners followed his lead. Holding up his mug, he offered a silent tribute to the Inn, and continued his song.
To put it short, I followed another, to this land of great trepidation
He was a warrior, unlike any other, to free a damsel from condemnation.
And in our quest we were confronted, with a beast unlike any other
But wait a second, that's not true, she looked a bit like his mother!
Pointing a finger into the crowd, Hadrian's motion brought on a series of "oohs" and "ah's" as laughter filled the Inn.
All jokes aside, in that tragic land, we were met by a sinister beast,
He appeared to be human, but to tell the truth, he was no man in the very least,
A battle ensued 'tween my trusty companion and the demon that stood in his way,
And believe you me when I tell you all, that I am lucky to be here today.
Wielding an axe made of sharpened bone and metal scorched by fire,
This monstrous demon stood tall and firm in his armor-plated attire.
Within the confines of this evil place, we engaged in a spectacular fight,
I wish you could have seen the battle; it was truly a wondrous sight.
Back and forth, the battle raged, and my companion and I grew tired,
And just before I thought we were finished, I couldn't believe what transpired.
With a twist and a curl and a spin to his left, the warrior extended his blade
And in that moment, what seemed like forever, he ended the demon's tirade.
Pausing again, Hadrian reached for the cold mug of ale and downed the remnants of the refreshing brew. Wiping his chin dry with the sleeve of his dark tunic, the skillful Bard held out his arms and belched loudly, drawing an even louder cheer from the crowd. Rising to his feet, the small Halfling stepped onto the wooden table beside him and continued the end of his tale.
So once again, I tell you all, we were lucky to leave unscathed,
We rescued the lass and gathered some loot and left that place with haste.
As for the girl, you just might know her; she pours a wicked brew,
Turns out the gal works here at the Inn, kind of odd, but hey, who knew!
Looking out over the gathered patrons, Hadrian blew a soft kiss to Kiara, drawing a bit of heckling from the drunken crowd and quickly turning the young girl's cheeks to a reddish blush that closely matched her like-colored tunic. With a slight curtsey, she smiled back at him and quickly disappeared into the storeroom of the Inn.
As all eyes turned back to Hadrian, an encouraging chant for more entertainment took charge within the rambunctious Inn. Never one to turn down a request for more song and revelry, Hadrian picked up his meshgorne and readied himself for another tune, but quickly stopped, his eyes falling upon the tray of succulent food that had been laid across his table.
Smiling down at the speechless Bard, the bar-maiden who had been the object of both his affection and his last song crouched down and planted a soft kiss upon Hadrian's scarred left cheek.
"The kiss is on the house, little hero," Kiara said, her voice soft and sultry, "but the food is on me," she added. The sense of calmness within her emerald green eyes sent chills through Hadrian's small frame.
Ignoring the sudden flush that swept across his cheeks, Hadrian could feel his mouth water at the sight of the roasted Ding Quail and the two warm rolls of Elvish bread. Turning his attention back to Kiara, Hadrian smiled at the attractive woman, a look of excitement written clearly across his face.
"If I should so happen to require further attention, you'll be the first to know," he replied, drawing some unwanted attention from the waiting crowd. He truly admired the woman's delicate features and the subtle curves of her figure.
"We'll see," Kiara said, her soft crooked grin beaming down at the Halfling. "You know where to find me."
Turning away from Hadrian, Kiara pushed her way through the gathered crowd and disappeared. With a heavy sigh, Hadrian waved off the crowd of on-lookers as he prepared to dine.
"My good brothers, I am done for the night," he said. "Perhaps tomorrow I will sing you all another tale."
Sitting down, Hadrian grabbed the roasted bird and indulged in the finest cooking the Inn had to offer. As he ate the delectable cuisine, he couldn't help but think of the lovely Kiara and the relationship they had developed.
***
The orange flame of the dim-burning candle filled Hadrian's room with an ominous glow. The large room within the Red Gryphon Inn was far from lavish, but it served its purpose. Looking out beyond the room's only window, Hadrian found himself immersed in thought over the fate of his long time friend, Valdor of Bergeness. The tireless Bard had searched far and near for a cure to the magical potion that had turned his long-time companion to stone, but had failed in every attempt. Even the local alchemists and metallurgists had tried their hand at freeing the imprisoned warrior to no avail, despite the handsome reward that Hadrian had offered for their services. Impervious to all manner of weapons and magic, potions and spells, the statue of rock and granite that held the mighty Valdor, stood firmly within the wooded grove at the base of the Highlands Valley, unscathed.
Like many of the passing nights since Valdor's demise, Hadrian had spent the better part of this one awake with frustration, his mind searching for any possible solution to restoring Valdor to flesh and bone. At one point, Hadrian had considered calling upon Sidria, the powerful sorceress from Quaron, to help in dispelling the magic that held his companion, but had decided against reaching out to the sorceress who had put both him and Valdor at risk. The fear of losing the black shard that he had acquired in the Highlands Valley outweighed the need for the sorceress' assistance. She would surely inquire as to the stone, he thought, and would undoubtedly take it from him at all cost.
To his relief, the sorceress, and her Gnome assistant, Rasa Dergaineous, had made themselves scarce in the passing months. At first Hadrian had thought that the sorceress had lost interest in him and his companion, having assumed that Valdor had failed in his mission to both save the girl from his visions and recover the stone, but Hadrian's instincts told him otherwise. He found it strange that neither Sidria nor Rasa had made any attempt to seek him out following his return to Windspear, and was befuddled by their sudden disappearance. Regardless of the reason, he thanked his many gods that they had apparently forgotten about him and hoped that they stayed hidden away.
Hadrian's thoughts shifted to Kiara, the lovely bar-maiden from the Inn, and hoped that she would find the time to visit him before the night was over. He truly enjoyed her company on nights like this one and found comfort whenever she came to see him. The final call for drinks had sounded loudly throughout the Inn and Hadrian could already hear the commotion of drunken patrons filing out into the night.
A soft creaking at the door interrupted Hadrian's thoughts, alerting him to the presence of someone outside of his room. He had thought it too early for Kiara to be stopping by and instinctively reached for his short Elven sword. Rising up from the straw-cushioned bed he had been sitting on, Hadrian watched as the rusted latch on the door jiggled softly and slowly fell free. As the door slightly swung open, Hadrian could feel a cool breeze from the hallway beyond sweep through the small room, nearly blowing out the burning candle.
"Who's there?" Hadrian said, his small hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Kiara, is that you?"
Without a reply, the wooden door swung open, revealing a large cloaked and hooded figure standing in the doorway. Stepping into the room, the veiled man quickly closed the door and secured the latch, then turned towards Hadrian who stood just a couple of feet away. Pushing aside a portion of the brown cloak that hid his appearance, the man revealed the hilt of his sword, placing a gloved hand upon the ruby-crested handle.
"Who are you and what do you want!" Hadrian demanded, a wave of nervous energy sweeping through his small body.
Speaking in a low, yet dark voice, the veiled figure's slithery words sent chills down the Halfling's spine, "My name is Sithera, of the House of Zhith' Uan", Halfling, and I believe you have something that I desire."
Reaching for the hood that concealed his face, Sithera pulled back the dark garb to reveal his sinister reptilian features. His yellow-tinted eyes flickered in the glow of the candlelight as his pink tongue flashed across his thin scaly lips. Alarmed by the sight of the Darconite, Hadrian quickly stepped away from Sithera, raising his sword at the dark creature and taking a defensive posture. By all accounts, Hadrian had heard of the reptilian race of warriors many times past, and had at one point even possessed the life crystal of a deceased Darconite, but he had never seen one. Having been hunted down to near extinction due to their war-like tendencies, the hide of a Darconite was likely to fetch a handsome reward in the local markets. The fact that Sithera had risked life and limb to confront Hadrian filled the small bard with worry as he was certain that the creature was willing to go to extreme ends to attain whatever it was that he sought.
With a firm grip on his sword, Hadrian waved the short weapon back and forth menacingly in hopes of warding off any attack by the Darconite. "I've nothing for you, creature!" he stammered. "Leave before the Guard is summoned!" Hadrian knew the emptiness of his threat as he was sure the Red Falcon guards that patrolled the streets would no doubt arrive too late make any difference in his well-being.
With what sounded like a slithery scoff, Sithera slowly pulled his large sword from its scabbard, the red-tinted weapon emitting a slow hiss as it slid out from its protective covering. "Calling for the Guard would be ill-advised, little one. You would be dead before the words would pass through your lips," the Darconite said, his voice low and penetrating. Licking his thin dry lips, the Darconite continued, "What is it they call you.Hadrian the Tune? Or would you prefer that I call you by your given name, Master Baldasaar?" Sithera's reptilian eyes blinked rapidly as the sarcastic words lashed out at Hadrian.
Hadrian's eyes darted back and forth between the Darconite and the large weapon he held. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the odds against him as his mind frantically searched for a way to escape unharmed. He knew he had no chance of defeating the much larger Darconite and could feel tiny droplets of sweat taking form upon his brow.
"What is it that you want, Darconite," Hadrian questioned, knowing full well that he was in no position to bargain with the dreaded creature.
"I seek a crystal of significant value," Sithera replied. "I trust you know what I am referring to."
Sithera's words stung Hadrian as his mind became filled with thoughts of the black shard. He had been chosen to protect the shard at all costs, but knew that he had no chance of fending off a warrior the likes of the Darconite. "You've mistaken me for a merchant of sorts, Darconite," Hadrian stalled. "I am but a Bard, nothing more, nothing less. If it is a crystal you seek, you would be better served visiting the local merchants and."
Before Hadrian could finish, Sithera leapt forward swiping aside the Halfling's sword with his own and bringing his free hand up underneath Hadrian's throat, lifting the weightless Halfling off his feet and sending his sword clattering across the floor.
"Listen to me, foolish Halfling, and listen well," Sithera said, his tone still low, but filled with anger, "A life crystal was given to you," he paused as Hadrian squirmed, "A life crystal from the House of Zhith' Uan." Tightening his grip on Hadrian's throat, Sithera continued, "If you do not want to die this very night, you will give me the crystal so that I may be on my way."
Releasing his hold on Hadrian's throat, the Halfling plummeted to the ground, gasping for air as he struggled to get back to his feet. "Yes.yes.," Hadrian stammered, his voice cut of by a fit of coughing, "I know.of the crystal.you seek," his words caught in between his laboring breath. Although distressed by the situation at hand, Hadrian had been relieved that the Darconite had not inquired as to the black shard. As he softly caressed his sore neck, a cloud settled over his mind as he contemplated as to how Sithera had known of his possession of the Darconite crystal. Looking up at his assailant, Hadrian was met by the sharpened point of the Sithera's deadly blade. "I.I know where the crystal is," he stated, his voice filled with a nervous stutter. "I have.I have it here," he continued.
Pressing the blade closer to Hadrian's face, Sithera interjected, "I've seen your song and dance, Halfling, and I am in no mood for one of your performances." Twisting the blade in a menacing manner, Sithera continued, "Give it me now, or perhaps you would prefer that I take it up with your bar maid whore."
Hadrian's eyes widened at the mention of his beloved Kiara and he could feel a swell of anger taking hold within him. Sithera's words had made it obvious to Hadrian that the Darconite had been watching him for some time. Hadrian, still lying on the floor, knew that his time was short. His instincts told him that once Sithera was in possession of the crystal, the Darconite would surely kill him, which was something that didn't pan into his long-term plans. Clearing his mind, he focused his thoughts on the Darconite and pushed his emotions from his mind. The Halfling was determined to put on one more performance, and if it ended up being his last, then he would rest assured that Kiara would remain unharmed.
Grabbing hold of the sharp edge of Sithera's sword, Hadrian pushed the blade from his face and glared at the Darconite. The bite of the sharpened steel and Hadrian's hand resonated through his arm as he bit his lip to conceal any evidence of the pain that the action had caused. "If it's the taste of blood you seek, then you'll never find the crystal. Of that you can be sure of!" Hadrian said, his voice stern and renewed with confidence. "I will give you the jewel, but first your word that no harm will come to the woman."
"You are in no position to barter," Sithera spat back.
Rising to his feet, Hadrian slid his left hand into one of the pockets within his vest and withdrew a small silver pouch. As his small fingers searched the contents, Sithera's patience grew short.
"Be quick with it Halfling," the Darconite demanded.
The sound of drunken banter from beyond the room caused Sithera to turn his attention from Hadrian, who quickly took advantage of the opportunity. As Sithera turned back to regard Hadrian, the Darconite was surprised to find the Halfling holding a closed fist to his mouth. A forceful blow of air from Hadrian's mouth sent a thick cloud of dust into Sithera's face, filling his nostrils and mouth and stinging his eyes, drawing a bevy of unintelligible sounds from the reptilian assassin.
Stunned momentarily, the Darconite lunged forward with his sword with hopes of blindly skewering the devious Halfling. Hissing and coughing erratically, the sound of the blade striking wood told Sithera he had missed and he quickly lashed across at his sides, too high to ever hit the much smaller Hadrian. Having rolled out of the way of the first attack, Hadrian crouched low besides the small bed at the center of the room as the Darconite stumbled about, blinded and gasping for air. The Felorian snake dust had done its job, Hadrian thought as he climbed swiftly over the bed and made his way for the door. Making quick work of the secured latch, Hadrian raced across the short hallway and down the flight of stairs that led to the main floor of the nearly empty Inn, his small legs taking him as fast as they could.
The commotion that Hadrian had created had drawn the attention of a few of the remaining patrons, as well as that of the Inn's beer-master and proprietor, Thelred Keene. Shouts of urgency forced a grim expression across Thelred's weathered face, the wrinkled lines of an arduous life etched clearly upon his skin. The slight intoxication that resulted from a good night of drinking quickly diminished upon hearing the word "Darconite" escape through Hadrian's labored breaths. Calling for his two sons, the normally jovial Thelred reached underneath the large oak-carved bar and pulled his steel-plated mace from the bindings that held it in place. It had been some time since Thelred had last wielded the imposing weapon but his hands were quick to find the worn grooves along its battle-scarred shaft.
Ordering the younger of his two sons to summon the Guard, Thelred, along with his oldest son, Orin, made their way up the stairs and into Hadrian's room, leaving the winded Halfling behind at the bar. Orin Keene had been the more strapping son of the beer-master's offspring, and at the young age of nineteen, was as muscular and athletic as his father had ever been. Barrel-chested and stronger than most his age, Orin's light eyes carried the same jovial glint of his father's. With his shoulder length hair falling carelessly over his face, many were quick to point out that Orin appeared to be a mirror image of his father's younger self, save for the dark beard that Thelred had grown over the years.
Upon entering the room, Thelred released a heavy sigh of relief upon discovering the room to be empty.
"Father, the window," Orin pointed out, making note of the shattered glass. Moving slowly towards the window, the younger Keene tightened his grip on his crude long sword as he peered through the opening.
Grabbing his son by the arm, the cautious Thelred motioned for Orin to step away from the shattered porthole. "He must've gone through it," Thelred reasoned. The last thing Thelred wanted was for his son to meet the business end of a thrown weapon or dart intended for the Halfling. If his years of experience had taught him anything, he was certain that whoever had gone through the window was likely waiting to see who would follow.
The sounds of commotion from the main floor of the Inn alerted Thelred and Orin to the presence of the Red Falcon guards who had been summoned by his younger son, and they quickly exited the room and made their way back downstairs.
At the bar, Hadrian, who had been explaining the series of events to the guards, retold his short version of what had transpired and how he had managed to escape the room unharmed. Standing next to him was the lovely Kiara, a look of worry written clearly across her innocent features.
"A Darconite you say?" one of the guards questioned Hadrian, a sense of disbelief evident by his tone.
"Yes, for the last time. It was a Darconite," Hadrian replied, his voice seemingly frustrated by the guard's inability to comprehend what he had been saying. "You know, as in the reptilian race, green scales, yellow eyes - a Darconite!"
Sensing the frustration in the Halfling's voice, Kiara placed her hand upon his shoulders in an attempt to ease his nerves.
"And what exactly did he want with a bard?" the guard asked skeptically. "Seems like he'd have to go through a lot of trouble to confront the likes of you in a place this crowded, don't' you think?"
Looking over at Kiara, Hadrian took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted was to have the Red Falcon entrenched in his affairs. His close association to Valdor gave him reason to avoid answering as many questions as possible. He was well aware of the reputation that his fallen friend had garnered throughout the years as an assassin for hire and had no desire to be detained, especially with the Darconite looming nearby.
Running his hands through his disheveled hair, his eyes caught a glimpse of the pendant that he had given Kiara. Its smooth facets playfully reflected the flickering candlelight and torch-flames that lined the walls. "That was what the Darconite wanted," Hadrian thought to himself. The Darconite life crystal that Hadrian had refashioned into the beautiful pendant that hung from Kiara's neck seemed to heckle at him as he thought of how to maneuver his way through the line of questioning that was upon him. "Funny," he thought, "Even in death, the Darconite's life crystal continues to menace the lives of those around it."
He would have to get the necklace back somehow without revealing its true origins to Kiara. First, he would need to draw away the unwanted attention.
Looking up at the Red Falcon guard, Hadrian held a long hard stare at the helmeted soldier. "I believe he mistook me for another," the crafty Halfling said, his calm features hiding the lies that escaped him. "He was searching for gems or jewels of some sort, obviously mistaking me for some sort of merchant." Looking around at the faces that stared back at him, Hadrian continued, "I insisted to him that I was not the person he sought, but he refused to believe me."
All around Hadrian, heads nodded in acceptance of the account that he had given. The Halfling was well aware of the dangers in possessing the life crystal of a Darconite, or of any creature for that matter. That had been his reason for reshaping the crystal and hiding its true form within the metal framing that now held it. He had been certain at the time that no one would have suspected the pendant to be the life crystal of a Darconite, and so ignored the thought of Kiara coming into harm's way because of the gift. Nevertheless, all that had changed. Crystal or not, her association to him had thrown her into the center of harms way, no matter how indirect it may have been.
As the group continued their conversation with the Red Falcon guards, Hadrian's thoughts shifted as he tried to make sense of everything that had occurred. He knew that there were only two others who had known of the origins of the crystal. With Valdor gone, it meant that only the sorceress, Sidria Ailema, could have told someone of the crystal. The real question, Hadrian knew, was why. She had been the one to give Hadrian the crystal in the first place. If the Darconite was willing to expose himself for the crystal, he would undoubtedly have a desire to avenge his fallen brethren as well, or so Hadrian thought.
Turning his attention back to the others, he caught the tail end of the conversation and knew that he needed to make every effort to leave before any more questions were raised. Rising from his chair, Hadrian lifted his arm, drawing an abrupt stop to the on-going conversation. "My utmost apologies, but I must be going," Hadrian started. Turning towards the guards, he continued, "I have matters that I must attend to. If this Darconite has mistaken me for a merchant, then the merchant's guild must be warned lest another merchant or trader come face to face with my assailant.
The lead guard regarded Hadrian and replied, "If the 'Guild' is to be warned, then we will take to it in the morn'. You'll find more success in stirring sleeping souls from their beds at this time of the night than you will a pair of listening ears."
"Do what you must at daybreak," Hadrian replied, shrugging off the guard's comments. I've too many friends in the guild to be putting off concerns of their safety. File your paperwork and make your reports, but by morning, the 'Guild' will be fully aware of tonight's trouble."
Turning towards Kiara, Hadrian blew off the ensuing comments by the Red Falcon guards cast the young half-elf a heartfelt look of concern. "Promise me you'll stay near the Inn while I'm gone. I do not know if the Darconite will return, so it's be best for you to stay here where it is safe."
"You'll be no safer once you walk out those doors!" Kiara stated, her tone heavy and stern. Her eyes had shed any semblance of the sweet innocence they had held only moments prior.
"I understand your concern, but you must trust me when I tell you that I'll be fine," Hadrian replied. Opening his arms, he motioned for her to crouch down so that he could give her a hug. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Hadrian softly whispered into her ear, "I'll be safer outside these doors, away from prying eyes. Do not worry about me." Turning towards her cheek, he planted a soft kiss upon her cool skin, all the while, skillfully unhooking the simple latch of the necklace and sliding the pendant into the sleeve of his tunic without alerting anyone to his actions.
Turning to Thelred, Hadrian's expression told the old beer-master all he needed to know. Thelred slowly nodded his head in acknowledgement of Hadrian's unspoken request before speaking, "My boys and I will keep a watchful eye, little friend. You need not worry about."
Furrowing her brow, Kiara turned to Hadrian quickly and then shifted her gaze towards Thelred. "I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much!" the young woman replied, angry at the presumption of her inability to fend for herself.
"There's no doubting that, lass," Thelred replied. "But a couple of extra eyes will be watching over you regardless," he stated coolly.
Reaching for his cloak, Hadrian threw the brown garment over his shoulders and fastened it around his neck, pulling the hood over his head. Reaching over to Kiara, he softly held her hand and savored the touch of her delicate skin. There was no doubt in his mind on his intentions to return to the Inn, but he was not naïve enough to believe that he would not encounter any danger along his way. He assured himself to be free of the guard by leading them to believe that he was on his way to the Merchant's Guild. Hadrian, however, had other plans. The Darconite had targeted him and him alone. His hope off finding out why and how was hidden in questions that Windspear could not answer, despite the prying ears and eyes that lined her streets.
Turning sharply for the door, Hadrian knew that there was only one place where he would find the answers to why the Darconite had come for him, but he dared not go to Sidria's lair empty handed. He knew all roads led to Sidria, but before confronting her, he would have to retrieve the black shard. He had been wise, he thought, to keep the secret of the black shard from those around him, and wiser yet to entrust the mighty crystal to someone who would not abuse its power. It had been sometime since his last visit to the Scribal Tower, and he wondered just how welcomed he would be in the house of Magnus Benoit.
***
Angry eyes followed the hurried Halfling as he made his way through the large wooden doors of the Red Gryphon Inn. The Darconite watched as Hadrian hastily made his way to the pen of vacant carriages and haggled with one of the resting carriage handlers for transportation. The darkness of the night mattered little to Sithera, who could see as clear as day due to his reptilian eyes. He could feel his warrior instincts calling out to him and urging him to rip the crafty Halfling apart limb by limb, but Sithera knew better. Despite the damage inflicted upon his pride, Sithera had found Hadrian to be quite resourceful. The Darconite could not recall ever having been outsmarted by his prey, which made the prospect of chasing down the Halfling that much more enjoyable.
A part of Sithera admired the Halfling for his bravery, a characteristic not commonly found among the short folk. More known for their cowardice and groveling, Hadrian had appeared to be of a different mold than his half-sized kin. Sithera felt renewed energy flowing through the cold veins of his body as he anticipated confronting the Halfling again. He had been outplayed by Hadrian once and had sworn with his life against letting it happen again. For now, he decided, he would simply wait and bide his time. Sithera knew that the Halfling was in possession of the coveted life crystal of his Darconite brethren. Taking it from the Halfling would be just a matter of time. But there was something else, Sithera thought.
The Darconite was reminded of his conversation with Rasa Dergaineous many months prior. He recalled the devious gnome making reference to some sort of shard, but could not focus on the details of their brief encounter. It had been Rasa who had informed Sithera as to the location of his fallen brethren's life crystal and the Darconite had found it odd that the crafty illusionist possessed intricate details as to where to find the crystal, but no knowledge as to how the Halfling had come into possession of it. Sithera knew better than to trust the gnome, but knew that he had no choice but to work with Rasa if he ever hoped to retrieve the precious life crystal.
Regardless, he knew that eventually he would have his answers. Sithera hoped that in the end, he would have his chance at dealing with the conniving gnome, but knew that there was other business that needed attending to. He had every intent of retrieving the life crystal from Hadrian and had already resigned to the fact that he would make the Halfling answer for what had become of his fallen kin or face death. Whether or not he would kill the Halfling remained to be determined, but for now, he was keeping his options open. If anyone knew what Rasa was after in having the Halfling and his companion killed, it was Hadrian, and Sithera had every inclination to find out what it was.
From a distance, Sithera could see one of he penned wagons being prepared for departure and knew that the crafty Bard had procured the transportation he had been seeking. Leaping from his perch, Sithera became one with the shadows that the moonless night provided and disappeared into the night in pursuit of the unsuspecting Halfling.
***
An eerie silence swept through the Red Gryphon Inn as pensive minds struggled to draw conclusions from the night's events. Well beyond the call for 'Final Flagons', Thelred and Kiara exchanged worried looks at one another, not certain as to what their Halfling friend's future held.
"Put your worries aside, girl," Thelred said, trying to ease Kiara's nerves. "Hadrian will be fine, of that you can sure of."
"How can you say that?" Kiara stammered. "We both know well that he has no intention of going to the Merchant's Guild. Truth be told, no one at the 'Guild" would ever speak to him - he's nary a friend over there! He's more likely to get himself killed by those merchants than by the Darconite!"
"You may be right, my dear, but the Bard knows what he's doing," Thelred reasoned. "Granted, I feel that there's somethin' he's not sharing with us, but that's his business."
"He's a fool, Thelred," Kiara said, her face filled with a mixture of anger and worry that brought a soft glow to her almond shaped eyes.
"Be that as it may, Kiara," Thelred replied, "I've asked one of my boys to keep on him as well. He just may need it."
Starring at Kiara, Thelred squinted and pointed to the half-elf's neck. "By the way, lass, you seem to have lost your necklace."
To be continued.
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