Chapter 8 – Part 2

About two hours before the Crimson Ship came into the narrow docks of Blood Crescent, Delegado had come to visit with him.

“Can you even see anything in here?” the half-orc asked, letting Feather flit off of his shoulder to find a crate to perch on.

“A little, there is some ambient light,” the warforged told him. He could tell that Delegado was looking to get his head involved in something other than a changeling paladin.

A changeling paladin who was a rape victim.

“My mother’s people can see in the dark,” Delegado said. “So can gnolls. There may be others at Blood Crescent, there’ll certainly be my father’s people. Might be some warforged. Figured I’d best get you briefed on what we’re walking into.”

“Might be your people, but it’s still the Wastes, so you want me to be as prepared as possible,” Orphan stated. “I’m listening for every detail.”

“Good man,” Delegado said. “Alright, the gnolls are hired mercs from Droaam, we have the choice of muscle since we’re the broker. The gnolls are archers, we’ve been training them to hunt the fiends. Given the enemies we’ve made in the past month – or months – or whatever the Khyber happened when we went out of time – I plan to pick up on some of that training myself.”

“Walled compound, compound longbows almost as strong as yours, range beating numbers?” the warforged monk guessed.

“Right.” Delegado flashed a grin when he was quoted, but aside from that he was all business. Orphan knew why. The half-orc hated the fact that Thomas had forced Delegado’s forgiveness before the end. And Delegado hated knowing that Ois knew about that. And Delegado had to blame something for the wall that grew between him and the woman he loved, so he blamed himself.

Orphan never would understand the complex motivations that roiled from gender interaction.

At least he could engage Delegado now, get his mind off of it. “And given that different fiends have different weaknesses, this damage reduction, multiple archers on each presented target is the best way to go.”

“Right again,” Delegado stated. “That headband of yours got more to tell on that?”

“Magical fields that hold back tissue rupturing, instant rebuild from previously auto-saved information at the cellular level,” Orphan stated. “Pure metals of certain types break up the field. With some it is silver, with some cold iron, with some byeshk. Sometimes a magical or theological source of energy is needed as well. Sometimes there’s a kinetic structure along with the magical fields that requires that the penetrating trauma be blunt, piercing, or slicing. Sometimes – ”

“Okay,” snorted the half-orc. “Right. Anyway, when one of the damn things is charging the wall, you can’t worry about what’s what and figure out which one. So multiple squads with multiple arrows. Last I heard we had an artificer, were going to get more, some more soldiers and some family spell throwers.”

“We going to stay there a bit?” Orphan asked. “Run security?”

“We’ll have to wait until the next outgoing vessel that’s headed back to the Marshes,” Delegado told him. “Preferably not Yrlag, even though it’s the closest port.”

Orphan was confused. “Why not? Isn’t that a Tharashk outpost?”

Delegado sighed. “Yeah, it is. And the city administrator is my oldest half-sister.”

“The one who said you shouldn’t keep the sword.”

“Yeah.” Delegado threw a glance back down the hallway to his cabin, where his father’s body was stored. “But I have to stay with my father’s body, have to get it to the druids so that they can – undo whatever those Keeper’s whores in the Wastes did. And I don’t want her in charge of that.”

“Her father too, no?” Orphan figured he ought to tread lightly here, but he wasn’t sure why.

The half-orc nodded. “Tatyanna never did like to share.”

Orphan realized what the conversation was about. “If word comes from her to bring you and your father’s body to Yrlag, you want to jump another ship, is that it?”

The half-orc blinked. “Well…maybe. Or maybe just you, I have to answer to –” He stopped, frowning. Been too long since I had to answer to someone. When I’m in the Marches I have to. But you could carry my father’s body, jump to another ship, head the way I tell you.”

“I don’t know the Marches, Delegado,” Orphan pointed out. “I would be utterly lost. And besides, I think that the prophecy indicates that we are supposed to stay together.”

Delegado’s expression hardened. “Tell that to Ois, then,” he said, rising and storming out.

Feather stayed behind, and Orphan and the bird looked at each other in silence.