Here you go, OP! I'll also put the fill on AO3 so I can proofread and edit when I'm not completely sleep deprived lol. First chapter is only the setup, but I probably won't have time to write again before the weekend and I didn't want to leave you hanging with nothing for a week. Hope you like it so far!
~*~*~*~
The plan should have worked. It was simple. Teleport to the small outpost settlement halfway between Uthodurn and the edge of the Savalirwood. Disguise themselves as travelers who had nearly frozen to death during a snowstorm and needed a few days rest before they could continue their journey. Locate the group of Dynasty assassins who had already made multiple attempts on Essek’s life and who - according to intel from Expositor Dairon - were hiding out in this small hunters’ settlement in the middle of nowhere. Monitor their communication to figure out who had hired them. Once that information was obtained, throw at least one Fireball at the assassins. Maybe several Fireballs, Caleb had thought to himself. They had injured Essek pretty badly the last time.
It should have worked. Figuring out the identity of a group of Kryn warriors - disguised or not - in a secluded outpost of less than 200 people should not have been that hard. But unfortunately, surprisingly and frustratingly it was, and now Caleb and Essek had been stuck here for far longer than either of them had anticipated. Two scrawny wizards, surrounded by a bunch of bandits, trappers, outcasts and other kinds of folk who probably couldn’t spell the word “civilization” if you gave them three tries and a dictionary.
Not for the first time, Caleb profoundly regretted not having brought Beauregard with them. Her spelling skills might be above average actually, but other than that she would have fit right in with these ruffians and could have offered some much-needed backup in the punching department.
~*~*~*~
When Essek’s message reached him, Caleb was wandering through the meager assortment of wooden stalls that passed for a market around here in the faint hope of maybe coming across a place that sold chalk. The drow’s voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the strained, fearful tone. Caleb felt a sense of panic rise up in his throat like bile.
“It’s that man again. I tried turning him down, but he wasn’t having it. We were drawing too much attention, so I gave in eventually.”
Caleb didn’t have to ask who Essek was talking about. The guy was bad news, even by the standards of this place. A stocky, muscular human, with a scruffy look, a taste for too much ale and a loud, vulgar sense of humor. He had taken an interest in Essek the evening of their arrival. And now Essek was alone with him. Scheiße. Caleb should never have let him out of his sight. Scheiße, scheiße, scheiße! Quickly, Caleb scanned his surroundings, trying to decide whether it was safe to mumble a short reply. Before he could make a decision, Essek’s voice found his mind once more.
“He’s paying our tabs now and expects me to accompany him upstairs next.” Essek was talking faster now. “I’m afraid I can’t refuse him. I don’t know what to do.”
Then, a third message: “Caleb... I’m scared.”
After that, only silence.
~*~*~*~
Sure, Caleb could storm into the small room he and Essek shared and bring fire and destruction down on that bastard that was laying hands on his Lebensgefährte. Part of him desperately longed to. Another, more rational part wanted to use the element of surprise to grab Essek and teleport both of them to safety, but even that would mean failure in regard to their plan. Word spread quickly in a place like this. The second they revealed themselves as spellcasters to anyone, the assassins would be able to put two and two together. They’d run, hide and regroup and all that time and effort Caleb, Essek, and their allies at the Cobalt Soul had put into finding their hiding place would have been wasted. And considering how damned close those Arschlöcher had come to killing Essek before, they might not have the time to track them down again before it was too late.
No. This was a life or death situation, but one where saving Essek now might actually be the option that was more likely to get him killed in the long run. Caleb knew it and Essek had to realize it too, considering he had chosen to use his magic to send messages rather than, oh, let’s say, crush that disgusting man into a very small, very bloody ball.
“Ja, I hear you,” Caleb answered quickly before the magic of the Sending spell dissipated. His hands were shaking as he ducked into a shady, deserted alley and leaned against a rough, soot-stained wall. “I can’t get you out without blowing our cover, but I promise you won’t have to suffer alone.”
~*~*~*~
Caleb had been through this kind of thing before, a lifetime ago, back when he was Bren.
Even after all these years, he could still hear Astrid unenthusiastically faking a laugh in response to the bad joke a merchant almost three times her age was cracking. He remembered her forcing her thin lips into an inviting smile as the man’s gnarly hands disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Astrid despised nothing more than to be desired for her body instead of her intellect, but she knew what she wanted and she had been willing to do whatever she needed to get there.
Caleb also recalled Eadwulf roughly shoving a fat nobleman onto a bed before ordering the noble’s wife to get on her knees and open her mouth. His voice had been low and husky, his grin cocksure, but his eyes were screaming “I don’t want to be here” at everyone who cared to look long enough. Bren had known Wulf felt much more comfortable submitting and letting others take charge, but he had been tall, broad and intimidating, even as a teenager, and there were certain expectations that came with that physique. The people who wanted Eadwulf wanted him for his supposed dominance, so he had put on a mask of rigid stoicism and done his duty.
And of course Caleb also had too many clear-cut, vivid memories of himse- Bren in that kind of situation. The sour taste of the folds between the legs of a barmaid, who might or might not have had information Ikithon had wanted. The burning pain as a guard he needed to bribe had taken him with far too little preparation. And through all that, the voices of two people hidden in the next room or outside the window, whispering sweet nothings into his mind through a copper wire. Just like he had done for them when the roles were reversed.
“Patience, Astrid; you can drive a blade between this piece of shit’s ribs soon enough. He will rot in a gutter and you will only rise.”
“Focus on my voice, Wulf, and just repeat my instructions. You can do this; it’ll be easy, just like a chain of command on the battlefield.”
“Don’t panic, Bren, he’s not actually big enough to choke you. Just relax your throat; you’ll be fine. You’ll survive.”
He had never been fine, exactly, but he did survive. Br- Caleb knew how to get through something like this. More importantly, he knew how to guide someone else through it. Old habits die hard, after all.
Alone, hidden in a dark alley, he closed his eyes and took a deliberate, deep breath to steel himself. His cold fingers found the two linked silver rings in one of his many coat pockets as he started muttering an incantation. This spell was at the top of Caleb’s skill set and would take a lot of effort on his part, but if there was even a small chance of making things more bearable for Essek it would be worth it. It had to be.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: and i'll hold you until the day comes dawning [1/3]
Date: 2021-07-19 09:54 pm (UTC)~*~*~*~
The plan should have worked. It was simple. Teleport to the small outpost settlement halfway between Uthodurn and the edge of the Savalirwood. Disguise themselves as travelers who had nearly frozen to death during a snowstorm and needed a few days rest before they could continue their journey. Locate the group of Dynasty assassins who had already made multiple attempts on Essek’s life and who - according to intel from Expositor Dairon - were hiding out in this small hunters’ settlement in the middle of nowhere. Monitor their communication to figure out who had hired them. Once that information was obtained, throw at least one Fireball at the assassins. Maybe several Fireballs, Caleb had thought to himself. They had injured Essek pretty badly the last time.
It should have worked. Figuring out the identity of a group of Kryn warriors - disguised or not - in a secluded outpost of less than 200 people should not have been that hard. But unfortunately, surprisingly and frustratingly it was, and now Caleb and Essek had been stuck here for far longer than either of them had anticipated. Two scrawny wizards, surrounded by a bunch of bandits, trappers, outcasts and other kinds of folk who probably couldn’t spell the word “civilization” if you gave them three tries and a dictionary.
Not for the first time, Caleb profoundly regretted not having brought Beauregard with them. Her spelling skills might be above average actually, but other than that she would have fit right in with these ruffians and could have offered some much-needed backup in the punching department.
~*~*~*~
When Essek’s message reached him, Caleb was wandering through the meager assortment of wooden stalls that passed for a market around here in the faint hope of maybe coming across a place that sold chalk. The drow’s voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the strained, fearful tone. Caleb felt a sense of panic rise up in his throat like bile.
“It’s that man again. I tried turning him down, but he wasn’t having it. We were drawing too much attention, so I gave in eventually.”
Caleb didn’t have to ask who Essek was talking about. The guy was bad news, even by the standards of this place. A stocky, muscular human, with a scruffy look, a taste for too much ale and a loud, vulgar sense of humor. He had taken an interest in Essek the evening of their arrival. And now Essek was alone with him. Scheiße. Caleb should never have let him out of his sight. Scheiße, scheiße, scheiße! Quickly, Caleb scanned his surroundings, trying to decide whether it was safe to mumble a short reply. Before he could make a decision, Essek’s voice found his mind once more.
“He’s paying our tabs now and expects me to accompany him upstairs next.” Essek was talking faster now. “I’m afraid I can’t refuse him. I don’t know what to do.”
Then, a third message: “Caleb... I’m scared.”
After that, only silence.
~*~*~*~
Sure, Caleb could storm into the small room he and Essek shared and bring fire and destruction down on that bastard that was laying hands on his Lebensgefährte. Part of him desperately longed to. Another, more rational part wanted to use the element of surprise to grab Essek and teleport both of them to safety, but even that would mean failure in regard to their plan. Word spread quickly in a place like this. The second they revealed themselves as spellcasters to anyone, the assassins would be able to put two and two together. They’d run, hide and regroup and all that time and effort Caleb, Essek, and their allies at the Cobalt Soul had put into finding their hiding place would have been wasted. And considering how damned close those Arschlöcher had come to killing Essek before, they might not have the time to track them down again before it was too late.
No. This was a life or death situation, but one where saving Essek now might actually be the option that was more likely to get him killed in the long run. Caleb knew it and Essek had to realize it too, considering he had chosen to use his magic to send messages rather than, oh, let’s say, crush that disgusting man into a very small, very bloody ball.
“Ja, I hear you,” Caleb answered quickly before the magic of the Sending spell dissipated. His hands were shaking as he ducked into a shady, deserted alley and leaned against a rough, soot-stained wall. “I can’t get you out without blowing our cover, but I promise you won’t have to suffer alone.”
~*~*~*~
Caleb had been through this kind of thing before, a lifetime ago, back when he was Bren.
Even after all these years, he could still hear Astrid unenthusiastically faking a laugh in response to the bad joke a merchant almost three times her age was cracking. He remembered her forcing her thin lips into an inviting smile as the man’s gnarly hands disappeared under the hem of her skirt. Astrid despised nothing more than to be desired for her body instead of her intellect, but she knew what she wanted and she had been willing to do whatever she needed to get there.
Caleb also recalled Eadwulf roughly shoving a fat nobleman onto a bed before ordering the noble’s wife to get on her knees and open her mouth. His voice had been low and husky, his grin cocksure, but his eyes were screaming “I don’t want to be here” at everyone who cared to look long enough. Bren had known Wulf felt much more comfortable submitting and letting others take charge, but he had been tall, broad and intimidating, even as a teenager, and there were certain expectations that came with that physique. The people who wanted Eadwulf wanted him for his supposed dominance, so he had put on a mask of rigid stoicism and done his duty.
And of course Caleb also had too many clear-cut, vivid memories of himse- Bren in that kind of situation. The sour taste of the folds between the legs of a barmaid, who might or might not have had information Ikithon had wanted. The burning pain as a guard he needed to bribe had taken him with far too little preparation. And through all that, the voices of two people hidden in the next room or outside the window, whispering sweet nothings into his mind through a copper wire. Just like he had done for them when the roles were reversed.
“Patience, Astrid; you can drive a blade between this piece of shit’s ribs soon enough. He will rot in a gutter and you will only rise.”
“Focus on my voice, Wulf, and just repeat my instructions. You can do this; it’ll be easy, just like a chain of command on the battlefield.”
“Don’t panic, Bren, he’s not actually big enough to choke you. Just relax your throat; you’ll be fine. You’ll survive.”
He had never been fine, exactly, but he did survive. Br- Caleb knew how to get through something like this. More importantly, he knew how to guide someone else through it. Old habits die hard, after all.
Alone, hidden in a dark alley, he closed his eyes and took a deliberate, deep breath to steel himself. His cold fingers found the two linked silver rings in one of his many coat pockets as he started muttering an incantation. This spell was at the top of Caleb’s skill set and would take a lot of effort on his part, but if there was even a small chance of making things more bearable for Essek it would be worth it. It had to be.