Chapter 24 - Tears of Midnight

Aven’s muscles had turned to lead.

The Company of Null.

The last time Lucian and Aven had faced off against the assassins had been in the broken tower in Amn. The night Aven had nearly died for Lucian. The night Lucian had nearly died for Aven. The night they were practically on their knees at the mercy of these spellthieves. Now they were back.

Aven grit his teeth.

No. This night would not end with him on his knees again, and he wasted no time. He grabbed Lucian, tight, and wheeled them off the bed. “Null!” He snapped out down the hall. The moment they spun out the door, three crossbow bolts shattered against the wall where they’d been standing only seconds before.

The Company of Null were fast to pursue.

This was no good. Lucian had just been struck and Aven was still severely weakened from his lashes. There was no way they could beat them.

Black cloaks swept out behind them as they dashed into the hall, crossbow bolts already aimed and firing. One shot over Lucian’s head. The next scraped past Aven’s arm and he bit out a curse, staggering backwards with Lucian being pushed behind him.

“Aven!”

Mindulgulph were flanking the assassins from the other side, weapons in hand. Yes. They had them flanked. They could fight them… they could win.

Before the assassins looked to Aven victoriously - and melted into a murder of crows. Aven’s stomach sank. “No!” He lurched forward, trying to grab at one of the crows and it slipped through his fingers, making for the open balcony. “Stop them!”

The Mindulgulph fell over themselves in their mad dash to slam the balcony doors shut - but it was to no avail.

As quick as they came - they were simply… gone.

Aven gripped the edge of the balcony. His heart pounded. He grit his teeth and slammed his fist down on the railing. “Damn it.”

“They’ve leapt off the balcony!“ A Mindulgulph gnoll growled as he turned to his companions. "Form a perimeter, now! Aven, Lucian… are you all right?"

"Someone just get me a damn healer,” Aven grunted. “I feel like a pixie ready to blow over with the slightest touch!"

"I’ll call for a servitor.” The gnoll swept from the room, leaving Aven and Lucian alone.

Lucian tentatively made his way over to the balcony, as though they might remerge at any moment. His fingers curled around the railing and his eyes swept over the city. “…they were on a mission,” he muttered. “They fled… fast.”

Aven retreated to the bed. His entire body screamed with pain. “Maybe they were scouting. I don’t think it’s safe here."

"I’m in agreement. Unfortunately, there’s nowhere else for us to go."

Aven thought a moment. "Perhaps we should consider it time to move forward with the mission to take back your throne,” he offered. “We can’t stay here forever."

Lucian drew close to the man. His fingers twisted into the bedspread. "I did purchase that ship. It will be easily large enough to carry the forces we’ve gathered across the seas to Aeliorn.”

“Are you sure we’re ready?”

“We’re ready.”

Aven looked to the door. His jaw twinged with sudden irritation. “Where the hell is that healer,” he muttered.

"If you’d been fatally wounded, there’d be no hope."

"They’re coming,” Lucian soothed. “The mage is staying in another building.” Redirecting Aven’s nerves, Lucian pushed up and dragged his fingers down the man’s bronzed shoulders. “We’re safe tonight, now. Settle."

It didn’t help. Aven’s nerves ate at him. Mindlessly, he took Lucian’s hand and squeezed. "I just… I’ve remembered something about the Company of Null, from the last time we fought. I’d like to have you looked at as soon as possible…"

Even as the words tumbled from his lips, a Servitor swept into the room and Lucian pushed to his feet. "Stop your fussing. I’ll be fine. You, look at my companion. He’s quite damaged."

Aven allowed himself to be tended to first purely for the sake of insistence. It was the first time he’d had professional healing hands working on his back, and through the glow of divine light flushing across his back he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Lucian didn’t watch. He pointedly didn’t watch as he sat on the bed, seeming to lean tiredly against the post.

His shirt was still soaked red with blood from where the bolt passed through.

Aven hesitated and looked up to the woman. “…I’d like for you to look for toxins,” he murmured and she nodded.

"As you wish.” Her hands roamed Aven’s back further. He could feel strength returning to him. The agonizing bite of whip lashes still stung, but he could sit a little straighter. “All right, dear,” the servitor said. “You’re all right. Now you, my lord."

Lucian stood. Aven could feel it in his chest. The tiredness. The deep ache that rushed through him, as though it were his own body. The prince’s face was white as he made his way over and sat beside the servitor.

Aven paced as she worked on him. The bolt had passed clean through his shoulder but she did not close the wound immediately. A green mist spilled over her fingertips, touching down on his skin as it sought out toxins.

Her features were troubled.

"What is it?” Aven demanded.

The servitor glanced up. “I do detect a toxin."

Lucian’s muscles stiffened. "Great."

"Can’t you cleanse it?” Aven asked.

“I can try but this poison is unfamiliar to me. Perhaps I can-”

Lucian interrupted her with a laugh. It was a laugh that held no humor and he fell onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “So that’s their play."

"What is?"

"Isn’t it obvious?” Lucian glanced over. “They have something I need."

"The antidote?"

Lucian nodded. He immediately felt a heat rising in his stomach. Something one could only express as a pit of rage seeding in his chest and striking out like wildfire. But it did not come from Lucian.

Aven slung a chair into the wall, wood shattering into pieces and scattered across the room.

Lucian slowly sat up. "We’re not going to just waltz into a trap,” he said with a wave of his hand. The guards and servitor departed without question.

“I’m just… tired of having to knock people’s heads of for doing dumb shit,” Aven snarled. His fingers massaged his temples. “I want to enjoy a night with you and the fact that I can’t is… even more enraging."

"We’ve made a hundred enemies for ourselves,” Lucian said. “The Cowled Mages. The pirates. My uncle. The Company of Null.” Lucian approached, unafraid of the way the barbarian’s shoulders heaved. He caught the man’s wrists. “We might not have a safe evening until all of this is finally over.”

“I just got you back."

"Likewise. Unfortunately, I doubt our adversaries will be sympathetic to our reunion.” Slender fingers pushed through Aven’s hair. “A servitor will be outside. I’m taken care of. Let’s enjoy the rest of our night.”

Aven let his weight lean forward to Lucian. His arms moved around his waist. “All right,” he murmured. “But… if you start feeling anything, let me know."

”…I just feel tired.“

His strength failed. He let his weight fall to Aven and rested his cheek on the man’s chest. "Take us to bed."

Aven took Lucian into his arms, simply content in holding him. He carefully lead him to the bed and pulled back the covers, still rumpled from their earlier conquest. "It’s a good thing we have decided we can’t die,” Aven noted as he lay Lucian down.

The Prince snorted. He grabbed Aven’s waist and tugged him close. “If only immortality were so easily gained,” he mused. He shivered, despite the warmth of the room and curved close into Aven’s frame. “..stay tonight?"

"Why would I ever leave?” Aven whispered. “I just got back to you.” He paused, then buried his head into silky locks of hair. “…in regards to being immortal… we get pretty damn close, you know. We’ve died and come back because this world isn’t done with us, whether it knows it or not."

"The world?” Lucian chuckled. “No. We’re here because we’re both simply stubborn.” Cool lips touched down to Aven’s knuckles. “Come… let’s sleep."

—————————————

Aven woke the next morning feeling as though he’d awoken beside a furnace. The figure against him was soaked in a sheet of sweat. Silvery hair was plastered to Lucian’s forehead, and every breath he drew was long and rasping. After Lucian heaved bile onto the ground, Aven undressed him and moved him into the baths to wash him.

It was while Aven was wringing water down Lucian’s feverish body that a knock on the door came. "Enter,” Aven murmured. He repositioned himself to cover the Prince.

“Pardon, my lord,” a physician said as he poked his head in. He squeaked in alarm as Kion lifted his head up from the corner to give a mighty yawn.

“Don’t mind the lion,” Aven said. “The Prince is in a cool bath."

"I’ll try not to take too long, then.” The physician scooted past Aven and began to check up on Lucian. His displeasure was written clearly across Lucian’s face as he was fondled, careful to keep a towel over himself as the physician tended to his wound. “Doesn’t seem to have ebbed during the night,” the physician murmured. “The alchemists of Calimport have manufactured a temporary antidote to keep the illness at bay, but he will need the proper serum, and soon.” A vial was pressed into Aven’s palm. “One drop of this in the morning and at night."

"Do you know what it is?” Lucian asked as he took the vial from Aven to roll it between his fingers.

The physician hesitated. “…we’ve identified what it may be. It’s not native to Calimport, but from Chult. The Tears of Midnight. It’s a substance we have very little experience with."

"Leave us.” Lucain stared at the vial and the physician stiffened.

“My lord, I really should tell you-"

"Go."

The physician huffed, picked himself up and marched out of the room. Aven grimaced. "Lucian,” he warned. “I need to know how to take care of you.” Lucian glowered at Aven with a pout. He seemed to be even more unreasonably pissy than usual. He cared little for how regal he may or may not look as he sank down into the water until half his face was covered, bubbles spewing from his mouth in a long row of gurgled profanities into the bathwater.

Aven waited patiently until Lucian brought his mouth back up. “We’ll need to find an alternative to walking into their trap,” Lucian said finally. He thumbed the slim vial between his fingers.

“Agreed,” Aven said. He sat at the edge of the tub. “Have you heard of the poison before?"

"I have,” Lucian said. “I’m not surprised the Company of Null managed to get ahold of it. The toxin shuts down your immune system, your internal organs, all of it, one by one. It’s infamous for being used to assassinate monarchs, due to its ability to… hide.”

“What do you mean..?”

“It’s called the Tears of Midnight because it gets progressively worse and more aggressive with every passing night. But during the day, you feel mostly fine. Until it’s too late."

"Which means..?"

"During the day, I’ll be mostly operable. Past midnight, I’ll be of little use to you. And my condition will worsen with every passing night."

Aven pinched down on his lip with his teeth. "What do you suppose we do, now?"

"I need to speak with Kendyll, first,” Lucian said. “Her homeland of Halruaa is right beside Chult. She may have some useful information."

"And me?” Lucian hesitated. “I suppose you could do some digging. Calimport is vast, and the poison trade is flourishing under the reign of Pook. You might find something there. But you’re not going alone."

Aven scowled. "I don’t need a bodyguard."

"I just dragged your dumb ass from the dead. Don’t tell me you don’t need protecting. I’ll hire some Calishites and perhaps a mage or two to accompany you."

"No need,” Aven waved his hand. “I have friends in mind. Camlen. Zathmat. Roxsha… Jorak’s beloved.” His shoulders fell.

Lucian’s gaze swept over Aven’s face. He reached out and his fingers fastened with Aven’s. “About Jorak,” he murmured. “I am sorry."

"It’s not your fault.” Aven squeezed. “Just know I only left your side because I knew he was there… I wouldn’t have done that with anyone else.”

“He was a good man. I’ll see you when you’re back.”

————————————————–

After leaving Lucian with his own reluctance to soak in the warm bath, Aven quickly dressed in a fresh pair of silken clothes. Draped in red and gold fineries, several buttons led up his collar and hugged his throat.

He had gotten used to the Prince managing his outfits. Without much fashion sense, himself, it made mornings quick plucking out whatever new thing had been placed in his wardrobe. Though he still couldn’t bring himself to understand why it seemed a sin to wear anything more than once, anytime an outfit of his was thrown out, he managed to either wrangle it back into his belongings or donate it elsewhere.

Aven made his way down the hall, fumbling over a golden belt at his waist in attempts to get it to clasp. Tight. As tight a squeeze as one could get. He’d have half the mind to think Lucian was trying to kill him if not for just bringing him back.

Eventually, with outfit intact, and after several odd conversations with passing servants who milled through the estate, he found his way to the library where Camlen was promised to be. His first stop.

He circled the spanse of the room towering with shelves of books before finding its center.

Draped across a table with messy blonde hair jutting in all directions and half buried in a fallen stack of scrolls, Aven found the boy fast asleep. He plucked up a scroll that’d toppled its way to the ground, thumbing the thick parchment and lazily tapping it to the back of Camlen’s head. “Rise and shine,” he mused with a low chuckle.

“Mm…mrrph.”

A tired gaze peeled itself up from the desk, drifting up Aven’s towering frame before the blonde rose. His mouth opened wide in a yawn, arms thrusting into the air and back arching like a cat’s as he stretched away the sleep. “Aven. You look better,” he spoke into the yawn.

“Back to normal, just plus a few more scars.”

Aven tossed the scroll onto the table and let his hand fall to Camlen’s shoulder, giving a fond squeeze. “Thank you for… everything. If it weren’t for you helping me, I don’t know where we’d all be.”

Teeth shined white as a smile tugged to Camlen’s lips and he nudged his shoulder into the hand. “Anytime. Did you need anything?” “Actually, I was hoping you’d accompany me into Calimport. It’ll be me, you, Roxsha, and Zathmat.” The smile grew twice its original size as Camlen scrambled from his chair and rose to Aven’s side, messily pushing down untamed hair. “I’d love to!” He began to hurriedly pack things into his satchel before pausing with a flush. “…Is this about Lucian? I heard what happened.”

Aven sighed, reaching around to hand the boy a few more of his belongings. “Yeah, but we’re figuring it out. Like always.”

“Well then, you’re lucky. Before I was taken by the Cowled Mages, I used to live here for a few years. Let’s go grab the others and I can show you around.”

Ever since being freed from the prison, Camlen seemed so full of life. A shadow of what Aven had first seen. His heart blossomed with warmth and before the boy could wheel towards the exit, he grabbed his arm, stalling him in place.

“Camlen, when I get the chance to.. I’m going to find a way to restore your magic.”

“It’s alright, Aven. You don’t need to,” the boy insisted, averting his gaze. “I can get used to it.”

It was the last thing spoken on the matter. Camlen didn’t want to cling onto false hope and Aven didn’t press. They left the library side by side, picking their way through the halls with the younger boy redirecting the conversation to senseless chatter about the city.

Finding the Mindulgulph wasn’t difficult.

Only a few minutes into their search, which Aven had narrowed to two places - the dining hall or training facilities - the sound of shattering glass and shouting glued the two in place. Aven exchanged a look with Camlen and sighed. He marched towards the noise, throwing open the double doors to the dining hall where various foods stained the floors and walls.

Chaos.

The barbarian felt a surge of irritation as Mindulgulph and the human based kitchen staff squared off. A kenku stood rose on a table, pointing down accusingly at a chef. Another of the staff was nose to snout with a gnoll, knife clenched and trembling in hand. One of the waiters went down beneath the splatter of a pie as hyena-like laughter filled the room.

“Wait here,” Aven grated out to Camlen, pushing into the room and swinging himself up onto the nearest table. On his own two feet, he towered most individuals. Add a few more feet to that and he was near impossible to miss.

His heated gaze spanned the dining hall one last time before locking to the center. “Since when did we start wasting food?” Aven’s voice boomed out. “I die and you all lose your minds?!”

The whelm of voices quieted as his overpowered and several dozen pairs of eyes swiveled to find him. One of the kitchen staff, disheveled, repositioned his glasses and smoothed his cooking smock. “My lord,” he pushed out in a dramatic huff. “These… these beasts are absolutely intolerable. They would not cease with their… the… well their flatulence!”

At that moment, Aven’s chest twisted with a laugh that smothered in his throat. His teeth clenched down on the inside of his cheek. Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.

One of the gnolls up on a table adjacent to Aven didn’t give him the chance. A growl ripped from his throat as he pointed a claw down towards the chef. “Better not leave out the part where you threatened to cook us into your next meal and save the rest as welcome mats for your civilized guests!”

The chef’s nose wrinkled in disgust, mouth swinging open with a retort when a wad of spit sailed from the gnoll and splattered across his face.

“Ookay!” Aven interrupted, taking the tension in his grasp before it snapped. “That’s enough.” He leaped down from the table, positioning himself between the chef and gnoll who pointedly glared daggers at one another.

“How about we all clear off the tables. Let’s not pretend like you’re the most civilized folk around, you do smell, and you are loud, but that’s your charm. From what I understand, the kitchen staff has done nothing but work tirelessly to feed you lot and care for you. It’s a tall order. Some of you pack away more than I do, and I love food as much as the next bloke. Let’s try to show them you can be considerate of that.”

Aven turns on the chef, raising a brow and folding his arms over his chest. “And you. Yes. They are not your usual type, but you have been paid handsomely to serve them. No matter the smell or their loudness, as long as they are nice and accommodating, you are to return it. And if they aren’t nice?” He snorts. “You can send them my way. How about that?”

Muttering growls resonate from the gnoll’s snout as he gives up the fight, climbing his way down from the table. The rest follow suit, each one returning to the ground and leaving the messy tabletops vacant.

Aven visibly relaxed and let those responsible shuffle back to what they were doing before.

The chef blotted a handkerchief to his cheek to swipe away a string of spit and dipped into a bow before him. “Thank you, my lord. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He straightened. With the rest of the staff in tow, they began to branch across the room to wrangle the aftermath into a manageable cleanliness.

And for the first time, the barbarian finally allowed himself to scope the room for his friends. They weren’t shy of their involvement. Leaned against the far wall and snickering among themselves, Aven feigned a roll of his eyes and crossed the room muttering to himself.

“Do you two have to look so smug?” he pressed, sweeping a look between the gnoll and lizardfolk.

“Aye, would you have it any other way?” Roxsha purred. She looked a bit worse for wear, despite her typical banter. The strain of a lost partner. And she wouldn’t quite meet Aven’s gaze.

Aven hesitated, letting his attention linger on her. “No, no I wouldn’t. You two are joining me and Camlen to the city, but for the sake of the shitfest I was just put through, pretend I’m scolding you. Last thing I need is the staff squealing to Lucian that I’m playing favorites.”

Zathmat gave a teasing salute, followed by a wink. “Yes sir,” he hisses, an emphasis on his s’s. “Anything to get out of here, but what for?”

“We’ll know when we find it, I guess.” Aven waved for them to get going and Zathmat quickly shuffled off to wait with Camlen by the door. His fingers clasped down on Roxsha’s shoulder, drawing her attention. “Roxsha,” he whispered lowly. “Have I upset you…?”

She rolled her shoulder out of his grasp, making a point not to keep her voice low. “Everyone seems to think it was your little prince that got Jorak killed.”

Aven winced and drew his hand up the back of his neck, rubbing the skin raw over pinky, scarred flesh. “It wasn’t meant to happen like that. His magic went bad when he was holding the door. He was just… trying to buy us more time. But I am sorry. I couldn’t be… more sorry. Jorak was my friend. I’d have given anything to have been there to save him and Lucian.”

“I always told him his love for you skin-bags would be the death of him,” she grunted. “He was always getting attached. And rather than caring for him, it’s that prince that gets to walk these halls.”

“I know, it’s not fair.”

The gnoll’s gaze snapped up in surprise.

“It’s not fair that you buried your lover and mine is still here. But Jorak knew what he was doing, you know he did. And I don’t think he’d regret anything but having to leave you behind. Now Lucian needs help again. He’s not well, Roxsha, and if he dies again, then what Jorak sacrificed was for nothing.”

Teeth bared in a scowl and Roxsha turned her head stubbornly. Claws scratch behind her ear in thought. “He admired you a lot, you know. You and him… are a lot alike. Stupid blokes with nothing between their ears.”

Aven’s cheeks flared red. “I have at least a little something up there,” he defends. Then before the gnoll could draw away, he lunged forward. Arms collapsed around her, smothering her into his chest in a tight hug.

“I promise I will never let his death be in vain,” he hissed to her ear. “You have my axes should you ever need.”

Roxsha stiffened in his grasp, the eyes of other Mindulgulph locked on them in shock before finally she returned it with a firm pat to his back. After a moment, she wriggled free, shaking out her fur and turning towards the door. “Yeah yeah, if you start crying, I’ll punch you myself. Let’s get moving, flesh bag.”

—————————————-

As soon as Aven left, Lucian collapsed back into bed with a groan. His face felt hot. His guts felt hot. His very bones felt hot. While the discomfort was nothing compared to the unbearable heat he’d experienced the night before, it was enough to make the Prince toss and turn and throw his covers to the side before finally giving up and moving to simply sit at his desk.

They were so close.

They had their army. They had their ships. All that was left was to return to Aeliorn, and begin making their first move. Yet, it was as though the entire damned world resisted every step of his mission to return home. From slavers to his own bleeding heart to a certain intolerable barbarian.

Utterly maddening.

The heat of Calimport was stifling. Commanded to leave the doors leading to his balcony open, he could only fan himself with a folded parchment as sweat dripped down his face in rivulets, head hung backwards to glower at the ceiling.

Perhaps this was karma, for harming Aven. He wouldn’t be surprised. The edge of his lip lifted. If this was his punishment… he could only imagine what sorts of hellish torment his uncle awaited.

“You look miserable. How are you feeling?”

Lucian glanced over. Kendyll stood in the doorway, and she drew forward to sit on his bed. Lucian involuntarily flinched. The last they’d met, her hand was striking against his cheek. For good reason. “Swell,” he murmured.

“How is Aven?”

“Other than being weakened from having the skin flayed from his back? I don’t know. He seems as he always is. Resilient.”

“The two of you both.” Kendyll paused. “The toxin… I’ve heard of it.”

“I imagined you might.” Lucian turned to face her and folded his legs. “Tears of Midnight. Or in Chultan, A ma l’ila K'ush'ip'a. Tears to Kill.”

“That’s right,” Kendyll said with a nod. “It was used once to assassinate a Netyarch.”

“The Netyarchs really do have terrible luck.” He caught the look on her face and he grimaced. “…sorry.”

“I can always just let the poison take you.”

“I know, I know. Apologies.”

Kendyll huffed. She pushed strands of dark hair behind her and reclined back. “After his assassination,” she said. “The Council of Elders commissioned a toxicologist from Chult to fashion a serum.”

“Are you saying there’s a cure in Halruaa?”

“That’s right.”

Lucian was already on his feet. “Then we need to teleport there immediately,” he said. “Of course, this would mean facing Marcello. And he’s a bit of a cunt. But it should be fine. I can simply gift him some purple robes with a sparkly jewel to accompany it and he’ll warm up to us, I”m sure. Does he still favor purple? I know it was his favourite colour when we were-” He turned and detected her hesitance. “What is it?”

“Unfortunately,” Kendyll sighed, drawing her knees into her chest. “It won’t be as easy as just… teleporting in. You forget, my country is at war with Dambrath. We can’t let just anyone simply teleport into our capital. We’ll have to teleport a couple days out, perhaps Talathgard, and ride for Halarahh.”

Lucian dragged his fingers down his face. “Just one thing after the other,” he murmured. “How can we be sure my body will even last before we get there?”

Kendyll sat beside Lucian. Her arms roped around his shoulders. “I don’t think Aven will allow for anything less. He’ll deliver you there, Lucian.”

————————————————–

Aven had only been able to roam Calimport’s streets once before. It had been in the dead of night, and he had been focused solely on the items he was trying to purchase before reuniting with Lucian. They hadn’t been the best circumstances to sight see.

He was grateful for the opportunity to view the city, now.

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. For most of his life, Aven grew up in Exthellion. A city surrounded by lush fields and farmlands that spanned for miles, trapped by tall towers and castles and iron bars. Calimport was alien in design. The city was not shy in showing off its opulence and wealth. Gold tipped domes and spires crawled upwards into the sky, and its people walked the streets with silks and turbans and silver that draped from their tanned necks. The scents of spices and perfumes and exotic meats made Aven’s mouth water.

Even more exotic than the food was the people. Calimport was the largest port city in Faerun, and the diversity revealed itself in a melting pot of creatures and beings.

Yet, they were certainly a crew that drew attention. The tall warrior with bandages across his back. The small, wiry little silver haired mage. The hyena woman who howled and cackled at everything. And the stoic, quiet crimson scaled lizard man.

They’d taken to the market to try and find a temporary serum for Lucian. Anything to slow the progress of poison. Stock of all sorts were on sale in the Cajaan Market. It was vast and open aired, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Open both day and night, it was full of bazaar carts and stands, with merchants hawking their wares. The merchandise was as diverse as the stalls that sold them, ranging from bright oranges and golds to somber blues and dark purples.

They sold daggers, they sold knives. They sold meats, and they sold pies. Soaps, spices, perfumes, clothing, fish, tomes - anything they could have wanted was on display. Aven’s perusing paused as he spotted something between two stalls. A man with a flute in hand, playing a melody that beckoned a hooded cobra into sleepiness. He grinned and glanced back towards Zathmat. “Hey, Scales,” he said. “Getting sleepy?”

Zathmat stared at him. “I’m a lizardfolk,” he said. “Not snakefolk. That would be your lover. Cold-blooded cunt.”

Aven snorted. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him,” he said as they moved on by.

In their search for looking for a serum, they stopped to admire some jewelry. One set of earrings was shaped into the head of a raven, and Roxsha fondly picked them up in her claws to admire the way they glittered in the sunlight.

A little boy watched her with a frown. She noticed. “The fuck are you looking at, boy?”

“Why are you looking at those? Are you really a girl?”

Zathmat snorted. Roxsha’s jaw twitched before she smiled - fangs glittering as she leaned down. “Aye. That I am.”

The little boy folded his pudgy arms. “You look more like a mangy dog,” he said.

“Yeah? Must be my rabies. I’m a mangy dog that eats fat little boys.” The gnoll foamed at the mouth as she gnashed forward with her fangs. They slammed down inches from his chubby cheeks and he nearly tripped over himself as he scampered down the aisles.

Aven snorted. “Really? You can produce foam on command?”

Roxsha grinned and wiped it from her lips. “Never know when you need to be a feral beast.

Aven laughed - before a sound reached his attention. Voices from down an alley, leading into an open city square.

Curiosity peaked in the barbarian and turned back towards the stall merchant. Mustering up the dwindling remains of gold he had left from spoiling Lucian’s small gifted fortune on him, he tossed a few coins onto the stall counter. “For the earrings,” he grunted, motioning to the pair of ravens in her claws.

“Yes sir. Would you like-”

Aven left Roxsha to answer the remains of the merchant’s questions, tailing off to turn down the alleyway, boots kicking back a small cloud of sand under the unmarked path. While the larger roads boasted cobble paths, the smaller were merely worn down sand pressed from foot traffic.

He ducked around the overhang of a back door marked with a “no entry” sign crudely etched onto a slab of wood. A woman dressed in silken coverings save only for her eyes skated around him at the last stretch, the light of day opening back up behind her. Aven turned his gaze down either end of the crowded street.

Up ahead, where a stall would have been among the sea of others was a stage crowded by a few onlookers. On the stage, a man stood frontward, his hands wildly gesturing about the line of chained individuals of all races and ages behind him.

Aven’s teeth and jaw scrubbed in recognition. A slave auction.

His nails curled into his palms, squeezing like iron against calloused skin, just barely kept from breaking it. He could hear the spare pops of his knuckles in the clench. It was as if he could never escape the reminders of his past and the cruelty of those of money. Nobles. Pissing away their coin on enslaving the undeserving rather than helping those who need it.

Heat coiled in his gut like fire. He spurred himself towards the stage, shouldering among the crowd to gleam a closer look. Upon the stage was a variety of elves and humans. A sun elf, usually a tall and proud kind, heaved over with a faded darkness clouding regal gold eyes. A small human boy trying to hug himself around his bindings, on the verge of tears. Two women, a wild elf, a little girl.

Children.

How sick did someone need to be.

Briefly, Aven saw red. It tinted the world around him bloody and his hand reached to his side for an axe. Before he could grasp the handle, a paw caught him. Squeezing with a warning pinch of nails, Roxsha leaned her snout by his ear, rumbling a low growl. “Don’t, Aven.”

“Why not,” he hissed. His tone shared her animalistic grit.

The gnoll scowled and yanked him away from the stage, wheeling him a few paces back. “You climb up there and you get swarmed by corrupt guards. Or they enslave you too. You can’t help them. And you certainly shouldn’t be risking Lucian on top of it.”

That had Aven’s attention. The anger smothered under guilt and he tugged his arm out of her grasp with a sigh. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“I’m just thinking that maybe I’m kidding myself with the idea of Lucian being able to stop slavery,” Aven grates out. “And even if he does fix it in Aeliorn, it’s still everywhere else. Who is to stop people being taken from Aeliorn and sold elsewhere?”

Roxsha shook her head. “You can’t save everyone. But you can make it better for at least one place. Now quit dinking around. I want you to help me shove these earrings through my ears.”

Aven scoffed in disbelief before brushing out in a low chuckle. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you are the most emotionally wound flesh bag I have ever met for someone who looks half beast himself.”

The gnoll shoved at his side, knocking him a step before waving him back to the others, disappearing down the alley. Aven dared take a glance back towards the stage, watching as the sun elf was separated from the others and led down towards a flashy man in blue who tossed over a sack of gold.

He tensed and bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze away. His breath heaved out and one step after the next, he followed after Roxsha.

————————————

They didn’t find a serum.

Not even something that could temporarily stem the poison.

When they returned to their rented estate, Aven’s heart was heavy in his chest. They had to move fast. With every passing night, Lucian’s state would become worse and worse. By the time he pushed into their shared room, the sun was beginning to dip over the horizon. Lucian was bowed over a table, maps and empty wine bottles sprawled across its surface.

When Aven entered, Lucian lifted his head and his eyes swept over Aven’s features. His shoulders sagged. “You didn’t find anything?”

Aven shook his head. “No. We looked everywhere… how are you feeling?”

Lucian shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough, for now. When night falls, I’ll be of little use to you.”

Aven slowly sat down onto the bed. “I imagine you have a plan.”

“Of course I have a plan. I wouldn’t simply let myself shrivel up.” He drew a map and passed it over. “This is Halruaa. I spoke with Kendyll, and she says that the Council of Elders in Halarahh have a serum.”

Maps were useless to Aven. His eyes scoped over the flood of swirling words and rubbed the sudden ache from his temples. “So we’re going to teleport to this… Halrahh place and you’ll be cured?”

“Not quite. Halruaa is currently in the midst of war with a neighboring country. Teleportation into the city’s region is blocked off. So we’re going to emerge as close as we can and ride for the city.”

So many setbacks. Aven grimaced. “So we’re just going to… leave?” he asked. “What about the mages? The Mindulgulph?”

Lucian waved his hand. “Already handled. I spoke with Morra. She’s going to take our forces to Halruaa by ship while we move ahead.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be all right for the journey..?”

“I don’t have a choice. And hopefully, Marcello will be kind enough to loan us some assistance for our cause by returning his beloved sister to him. Very soon, we’ll have a force large enough to return to Aeliorn and begin the battle for my ascendance.”

Something still didn’t sit right in Aven’s chest.

The Company of Null… they were still out there. Darrien. Kalazure. So many enemies.

Lucian didn’t need their newly established bond to read Aven’s mind. He closed the distance between them, his delicate fingers brushing Aven’s cheek. “One step at a time,” he reminded.

Aven exhaled, taking the hand in his and pressed his lips to Lucian’s fingers. “All right,” he murmured. “In that case… we need to move fast. So let’s get you and Kendyll mounted up, and we can get underway.”

—————————————–

Aven could hear his horse well before he could see him. The stallion screamed and knocked his hooves angrily against the sides of his stall as stablehands desperately tried to bring him under control. One was knocked out on the ground, another nursing a broken nose and stemming the blood with his own shirt.

“Away from the horse,” Aven called out as he surged forward to take the stallion’s reins in hand.

Its nostrils flared. Dominance had long since been established between the pair, but that didn’t keep the horse from kicking out towards Aven. A swift dodge to the side avoided the hooves that cracked and broke right through the stall’s wall, leaving a hoof sized hole.

“Gods, you’re a pain in the ass,” Aven murmured. “Jorak would have known what to do with you.”

Jorak.

Something about the name drew Aven’s attention back to the horse. Jet black. His tail was almost feathered as it drew nearly all the way down to the ground. Wild and uncontrolled and full of life. Just like all the beasts that Jorak found most beloved. Aven dared to draw close. His hand patted down the stallion’s nose. “You know,” he murmured. “He probably would have liked you. You’re absolutely, bloody intolerable but those were his favourites.”

His voice was calm. Firm. It settled the stallion, his lungs heaving with raggedly drawn breaths, tail flicking about. “Might be a good way to honor him,” Aven said. His voice was conversational, casual. As though he were simply speaking to a friend. “Jorak… how do you like the sound of that, boy?”

The horse snorted and dragged his hooves into the dirt. A smile touched Aven’s lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he purred and swung himself up onto his horse’s back. Up onto Jorak’s back. Kendyll climbed up behind him - Jorak being the larger horse more easily able to accomodate two riders.

“Aven.” Lucian was seated atop Soleil. “Are you ready?”

Aven nodded grimly. His fingers twisted into Jorak’s reins. “Ready.”

“Then let’s do this.” Lucian pulled Soleil forward. Jorak bit at her and she snorted at him, their scuffle nearly breaking Lucian’s focus as he reached forward to grab Aven’s hand, binding them. He closed his eyes.

And in a snap of time and space clashing and sending them forth - the group was gone.