Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [17]
A moment to breathe calmed Pierce's nerves and his momentum was lost as he relaxed. He realized how tired he was, the fatigue and strain bearing down on him. Looking back at Martinez limping through the door he knew that neither of them could follow Chev when their legs were slowing them down.
He bit his lip as he thought furiously. He didn't want Chev to get away yet had no choice in the matter. He thought frantically for something he could use but knew ahead of time, like he always did, that nothing would help him.
But Chev didn't know that.
"Leave Chev." Pierce said quietly and the warrior at the base of the stairs looked up at him strangely. "Get out of my home!"
With a peculiar salute with Mitch's longsword, Chev turned and charged to the gates. They were locked but the warrior was far from weak, as many legends had told, kicking the gates open with one heavy boot. He disappeared into the darkness.
Pierce collapse to the marble stairs, leaning on a saber to keep himself upright.
"Don't it just piss ye off?" asked Martinez, spitting out a wad of blood and spittle. Pierce knew the warrior was refering to not being able to run after Chev. He sat down beside him and uncorked a bottle of whiskey. He took a quick drink and offered it to Pierce.
The Doctor took the putrid tasting stuff and took a long drink. He sniffed the air and frowned at his sabers. "Yep," he said with a sigh as he glared up at the heavens.
Chapter 2
In 153 years Waterdeep had changed in more ways than one, but the landmarks were still the same. Perhaps the biggest change had been during the Time of Troubles when denizens from the abyss had poured through a hole in reality to lay seige to the city. The fighting had taken to the streets and the battle had raged back and forth within the city, many buildings being destroyed in the process.
Regardless, Chev knew instinctually the places where he would best find rest and time to lick his what little wounds he had. In a dark alley along the docks he walked into an inn called the Last Hammock, and promptly killed the one-eyed innkeep with a single sword thrust. There were no patrons and no other staff to notice his actions as he nailed the front door shut. He worked until the sun peaked the cliff to the east, boarding up the every corner of the slummy inn, preserving his safety when he finally lay down on top of the bar to rest.
From behind the bar he grabbed a bottle of old black rum, broke the neck of the bottle off and poured the thick black stuff into glass after glass. When the bottle was empty Chev threw it across the room and closed his eyes. The confusion in his mind, the fury that had come with it was starting to level out.
From stone eyes he had seen everything before him in the last 153 years. He knew countless secrets and horrors about the d'Or family. This time however he would not be protecting them. They had wanted him dead. Now it was their turn to die.
"Holy Sword of Ao," swore Pierce as the cleric probed his wounded leg. "Why can't you just heal it and be done with it?" He was in too much pain to read the man's thoughts, and trying to concentrate on pink butterflys so he could ignore the pain wasn't exactly helping right now.
"Because if it hurts as much as you seem to think it does its probably infected and I can't heal that," the cleric of Konarr replied sternly. He pulled a quill from his vest pocket and poked the deep wound.
Pierce's leg spasmed and he nearly blacked out from pain. He grunted and gritted his teeth. He spat out blood from biting his tongue and looked up expectantly as the door opened.
Marque Draque smiled and led several students within. "Now class, as you can see this is very painful. Just look