Derian’s shoulder was throbbing, the wound cleaned and tended by the innkeeper’s wife but still painful despite the mug of ale.
“Do you know why that thing attacked you?” The innkeeper was wiping out a mug with his bar towel as he spoke. Derian was not ready to start that line of speculation just yet.
“Not sure, maybe he had a bone to pick with me?” The mustachioed man rolled his eyes and chuckled.
“Yeah, I bet. You’re in rather good humour for someone who got stuck yesterday.” The innkeeper had a gruff exterior but seemed genuinely concerned. Whether it was for empathic reasons or for legal ones, Derian had no idea. Still, it was nice even to have someone pretend to care.
“Happy to be alive,” he drained the ale in one final gulp and set his mug on the bar, “very confused though. There’s no reason a Dark Eternal would do that. At least none I can think of.” Derian’s fingers twiddled along the mug’s handle momentarily. “But I have to find out, it can’t have gotten far.”
“Whatever you do, pal, be careful. He’s already stuck you once.” Derian nodded in agreement. “You sure you don’t want to take it easy for a day or two before heading out?”
“Oh, I’ll be safe,” Derian pulled the assassin’s boot from his sack and put it on the bar, “it won’t be moving quickly, I have its foot.”
After a few quick goodbyes and thank yous, Derian pulled the rucksack over his shoulders, quickly realized the error as pain flashed down the entirety of his left side, then slung it over his good shoulder instead. The bag contained the skeletal foot and its accompanying boot along with the rest of his belongings, not the least of which the token that represented a hundred plots of as-yet-unseen land.
The city square was bustling today as more future landholders were arriving and inquiring where to sign up for the lottery the Wizards had introduced. A Ferexian General, along with a large entourage, was disembarking one of the ships fresh from The Burning Lands. The militant group was marching directly toward the booth the Wizards had set up in the market. Derian shook his head and chuckled, woe be to the clerk who dealt with that lot.
Staying close to the shop windows that lined the street, Derian found where the window the assassin had escaped through and turned down the alleyway, immediately looking for any signs the Dark Eternal had come this way.
It did not take long before he found some drops of blood next to a barrel at an intersection of alleyways. Derian frowned, rubbing his shoulder as he followed the trail of droplets.
After a few minutes, the trail ended at a sewer grate, a sewer grate not quite in its proper place. Derian knelt beside it and pulled with one hand. The grate moved easily, the lock falling away and clattering on the cobblestones. A voice behind him snapped his head around.
“Not the best idea there son. I’d guess you aren’t supposed to go in there.” The voice was warm but commanding and held in it the confidence of someone who already knew the answer to the question they asked. Derian turned to see a tall man with a strong looking brown beard and a crossbow over one shoulder. A Silver Shield shaped crest on his lapel glinted in the dim sunlight.
“I’d guess there shouldn’t be any Dark Eternals down there either. Least of all ones who stab shoulders in the night.” The man paused for a moment before continuing.
“I’m thinking there might be a story here you want to tell.” He extended his hand. “Sheriff Randall Turner. And you are?” Derian took the man’s hand as he stood up.
“Derian Kell of House Kell.” The Sheriff nodded and frowned at the same time, which Derian found mildly disturbing.
“Not a noble I’m familiar with, where you from?”
“Mortis. Beluroc specifically.” He knew he was dealing with the law now, best to curb his snide remarks for the time being. “Here, before you go on questioning me, take a look at this.” He swung his backpack off his good shoulder and reached inside. Derian paused abruptly, looking up to see the crossbow pointed directly at him now.
“I’m gonna need you to stop and move real slow now son. I’m not one to warn people twice.” The Sheriff’s tone brooked no insolence, Derian was not going to do anything to make it worse.
“Listen, I was attacked by a Dark Eternal last night, I’m trying to track him down. And I have evidence that it happened. It is in my bag. I’m going to get it and show you. I would appreciate if you would refrain from shooting me please.” Derian stayed still, he did not relish getting a bolt in his ribs for his trouble. The Sheriff waggled the end of his crossbow at the bag.
“Go on then. Show me this evidence.”
Calmly and deliberately, Derian untied the pack. Pulling out the boot, and the bony foot inside, was easy enough, if still disturbing. He then set it on the ground and held both hands open wide.
“There, look for yourself.” With a gentle nudge from his foot and a disgusted look on his face, The Sheriff lowered the crossbow.
“I’m not saying I believe you, but damned if that isn’t a whole foot you got there.” He pushed his hat up and slung the crossbow fully over his shoulder. “I thought they didn’t attack folks.”
“They don’t attack anyone any more than you or I would. What you are thinking is they won’t trick you if they try to recruit you.” Derian wiped his hands absently on his pants, wincing again at the pain his shoulder reminded him of. “This one, definitely attacked me.” He moved his shirt to show his bandaged wound.
“Well son. We better get to the bottom of this I think. Why do you think this bony bandit is in the sewers?” Derian shrugged.
“Trail of my blood,” he pointed out some drops, “and the sewer grate was already open.” The Sheriff pondered this for a moment before speaking.
"I'm not assured going in there is a good idea right now. We should go and get some help, I have some deputies I can bring." The Sheriff looked like he already knew Kell's answer.
"You go and get help, I'm going now. I need answers, and this thing is going to give them to me." Derian pointed at the grate. "Can you just... help me for a second? You know before you go?"
"You are a fool Mr. Kell." The Sheriff walked over and easily pulled the grate off and set it aside. "If you go and get yourself killed, I'll hang you myself." The Sheriff spit to the side and pointed to fingers at his eyes then at the young man. Derian laughed.
"Understood Sheriff." With that he slipped down through the opening and made his way down the ladder. The Sheriff wrinkled his nose at the smell and turned back towards the station to get his deputies.
Feet now firmly on the old stone of the waterways, Derian covered his nose with his hand, the smell was overwhelming. The tunnel stretched out in both directions leading to intersections with even more tunnels.
The light from the opening above him illuminated some of the area around him, but not enough for any more than a cursory search. Frowning, Derian pulled a piece of candle from his pocket and flicked a match with his thumb to light it. It wouldn't last for long, but he could see a little better at least. Enough to avoid the channel of foul water that ran down the centre of the tunnel.
Despite the smell and the state of the sewer, it didnt take long to find boot prints heading south beside an odd looking line scraped through the thing scum on the stones. Derian was certain that was the direction he needed and began moving quickly before his light ran out.
He heard the occasional squishing sound emanating from somewhere deeper in the tunnel system but it was never clear enough to pinpoint where it came from. Shrugging it off as little to worry about, Derian continued on, drawing his sword as he moved cautiously. The candle was already beginning to gutter and burn his fingertips.
He knelt and opened his backpack, looking for his ruined shirt from the attack. Glancing around, he spotted a broken chair in pieces by the wall. Quickly tearing the shirt into strips he wrapped them around the chair legs and stuck the whole mess in the candle flame. The fire began licking the fabric as the candle went out.
Derian desperately blew on the flames to help the fabric catch and after a few tense moments, the torch was lit, such as it is. Smiling, he turned to scoop up his backpack and froze in sudden shock. Directly in front of him was a shimmering, squishy looking cube.
A gelly-like appendage flashed out at him. Derian yelped and dove out of the way, feeling himself hit the murky channel of water moments before an impact on his head and then the torch didn't matter any more.
Everything went black.