• Main Page

Losses
Not taking the time to check their bounty, the gang pulled the cart quickly away, leaving the man behind, bleeding and unconscious sprawled on the muddy ground. The few bystanders had passively watched the encounter and preferred to make a low-key dissolve rather than to step in. The boy gangs had their reputation and anyone concerned about their own health was best advised to go by unnoticed. As soon as the boys felt they had made enough distance between them and crooked nose, they came to an halt and gathered around the cart, now eager to discover their price.
“What the…”, the gang leader began upon laying eyes on the tied boy.
“He dead?”, demanded one of the boys.
“Dunno, let’s check. Give him a slap, that’ll clear it”, the gang leader commanded. Since the boy in the cart was still unconscious, the treatment wouldn’t provoke any reaction.
“That old creep! He must’ve killed him”, one of the boys concluded.
“Let’s check what he’s got on him”, suggested another. Quickly they searched the body and came up with a strange looking dagger, the bracelet and some change. They had to unbind their victims hands in order to retrieve the bracelet, but since the boy was considered dead, they weren’t concerned. “Ho! Look at that! Nice… I think that should go for a good price.”, the leader commented on the retrieved weapon.
“Gimme that”, stretching out his hand he collected the bracelet and put it on his arm. Would he have known about the items origin, he certainly would have exercised more caution, but the poor lad took it for an ordinary cheep piece of decoration. As soon as the metal made contact with his skin, he started to scream, obviously in great pain.
“Take it off! Take it off!”, he yelled and was fist greeted with roars of laughter, the boys under the impression that he was pulling a show. When his arm began to smoke however, the ditzy spirits changed from pure amusement to puzzlement to sheer horror. No one made a move, the smoking boy frantically pulling at the bracelet, but apart from burning his fingers his attempts were fruitless. His vision began to blur, the pain was overwhelming, the stench of his own burned flesh made him gag. He sank to his knees, close to passing out when one of the spectators got hold of himself and after removing his shirt and wrapping it around his hand for protection, managed to pull the bracelet off.

When Lendear came to, his head painfully pulsing, limbs stiff, he was greeted by a curious face, a mere hand away from his own.
“You all right?”, the face inquired.
The boy was not at all sure whether he was, but nodded his assent nevertheless. Apart from his throbbing head, he seemed to be uninjured, but when he attempted to get up, the world around him began to swim.
“Easy now, wait. I’ll give you a hand”, came the voice through thick clouds. He felt strong hands reaching for him, pulling him upright. Breathing deep, fighting a creeping nausea, Lendear slowly regained some steadiness. The voice had a familiar tone to it, but it was beyond Lendear to place it. He took a few moments, again taking inventory, but this time he included his possessions in his search. The skean was gone! And so was his bracelet. Quickly he searched for his gem and was quite relieved as his fingers touched the little bulk in his tunic.
“Oh no…”, he muttered, coming to realize of his loss, but far away from grasping the entire impact the bereavement of these items would possibly hold.
“This yours?”, the voice came again and before Lendears eyes lingered his bracelet.
“Aye”, was all he could muster and relieved he took possession of it, putting it on his arm. On instinct he fumbled for his gem, but stopped in mid-motion. He was far from being safe and deep down he sensed that first he had to find out who was behind that voice and if he was on safe grounds again. Concentrating hard, he managed to focus and if it weren’t for his overall poor state, he probably would have broken into wild jubilations. Before him stood, eyebrows raised in apparent concern, his master’s cousin Turglind.
The alleviation he felt upon identifying the owner of the voice was soon replaced by the concern of the skeans whereabouts. He quickly relayed what he knew about the hold-up in the shop and informed Turglind about his loss, urging his saviour to start a search immediately. Turglind did as instructed and scanned the vicinity, but of course to no avail. Heart sunken, Lendear felt tears of frustration filling his eyes. A low, but demanding anger started to build up and before he could stop himself, he had the gem out, attached it to the bracelet and was immediately bathed in dark, pulsing red. Turglind was taken off his feet, flying through the air, as if hit by a mighty invisible hand dealing out a brutal shove. Eyes wide and screaming, he made painful contact with the wall behind him.
His rage now uncontrollable and ignoring Turglinds fate, the boy sprinted off in the direction of the shop. Turglind shouted after him, but the words didn’t reach Lendear. Still shaky from the blow, Turglind made no attempt to follow. After a few moments he felt stable enough to walk and decided to go to the Brigshack to summon his cousin. Together they would have a better chance to find the boy and get him back to senses. In this state with the activated gem, the boy was putting not only himself to great risk, but any unfortunate passer-by could easily earn a similar or worse fate than Turglind had just experienced.
Lendear in the meantime had reached the point where the crooked nosed shop owner had met his own hold-up. He had regained consciousness just a few moments earlier and was about to get up from the mud-covered floor, when the boy was on him, screaming:
“Where is my skean? You bastard, give it back to me!”
The sphere around Lendear, pulsing dangerously, pressed against the man, clearly dealing out great pain.
“I ain’t got it”, panted the man, “these boys must have taken it.”
His face mirrored the agony, but Lendear wouldn’t back off.
“I don’t believe you, give it back at once or you’ll regret it!”, he bellowed, moving closer.
“Stop it, please, stop…”
Deprived of his last strength, crooked nose sank back into the dirty street, a lifeless heap of limbs. Upon this sight, Lendear finally found some senses and backed off. He didn’t much care about the shop keeper, but killing was another subject altogether. He pulled off the gem and approached the man once more, briefly checked for a heartbeat and satisfied began to search the robes of the shop owner for his skean. Crestfallen he came to realize that the man hadn’t lied. Which boys had he referred to? No point, trying to squeeze more information out of his victim, he was barely alive and in the given state certainly not very talkative. Uncertain of his next moves, Lendear pounded on the situation, slowly calming down, worries now clearly ruling over anger and he felt ashamed once more. He had misused the powers of the gem, had inflicted great pain, he had again disobeyed his master and paid a hefty price already by loosing his skean. He didn’t deserve to be Messenger, he was clearly unworthy. Disappointing Thealdi hurt most, the man had put full trust in Lendear and he had paid back with this profound betrayal.
Absorbed in these heavy streams of thought, the urge to run away, to leave everything behind, to steal himself out of what he had done slowly seeped in and the boy started to trot off, leaving the shop owner behind. He had left his bow and arrows in the shop and went to pick them up. The front door was locked, so he circled the building to the backyard. The door to the storage stood ajar and Lendear let himself in. He spotted his weapon near the counter, took hold of his possession and left the fateful place.
Remembering their arrival at Brougoth, Lender used his gem to conjure the hidden door, quickly stepped through and headed towards the Thari Cees mountains.