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Description
Enemies Lost

Bishop drew his brows together, leaned back in his chair and started to push his mug around on the table, his eyes fixed on it. “I think you’re exaggerating”, he said.

Lana shrugged, still grinning. “Please yourself. If it helps you sleep at night – I don’t care if you believe me.”

He looked up, brows still drawn together. “You seem to know me pretty well. Why, if I am that awful?”

She shrugged again. “Necessity. I needed your help, unfortunately.”

His face lit up a little. “Well, if I helped you out, there you go. I can’t have been as black as you paint me.”

She snorted. “A friend of mine got abducted by some really bad guys. You’re a good tracker and were my only chance of finding her quick enough to save her. Your answer was that it was not your problem, you were not running after some farm girl, and certainly not with any kin of Duncan. My uncle had to blackmail you to help.”

“Blackmail me? But... how?”

Now, do I tell him the whole story?

Better not. Not yet, anyway. Besides, she still was not fully convinced this was not some sick game.

“Obviously, you had some old debt to him”, she said, noncommittally.

“So... you’re telling me that some woman’s life was at stake, and I could help save her, but would not?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“But... why?”, he asked, bewildered.

She smiled thinly. “Because you never do anything for anyone but yourself.”

“Come now”, he protested. “No one is that bad.”

She took a swig of her ale, regarding him calmly. “If you don’t like what you’re hearing, you might want to leave. Because it gets worse, believe me.” She waved to the serving girl for another ale.

The girl came over to take her empty tankard away.

“I’d like another one, too, please”, Bishop addressed the girl, shaken. “Looks like I’m going to need it.”

Well, I’ve certainly never heard him use the word “please” as much.

They sat in silence for a moment, Bishop obviously deep in thought, Lana observing him intently. When the girl had brought the ales, he toasted her with a sarcastic smile reminiscent of his old sneer.

“Well then”, he said. “Don’t spare me, tell me the worst. Did we rescue the damsel in distress?”

That sounded much more like the Bishop she knew. She looked at him sharply, but despite the cynical tone of his voice, his eyes seemed sad, wounded, with no trace of the predatory gleam that was so typical for him.

“Yes, we did rescue her”, she said, feeling the old anguish rise in her. They had saved Shandra... only so she could sacrifice herself later. So many of her friends... dead, lost, gone. But the traitor had survived, sitting at her table, drinking ale. Where was the justice in that?

“You sound sad”, he said. “Why, if we saved her?”

“We only saved her so she could die later”, she said, bitterly.

“I’m sorry”, he said softly. “You cared for her very much, didn’t you?”

“I promised her to protect her”, she said, and it was her time to stare into her ale. “I let her down. And she died.”

“I still don’t understand”, he said. “Protect her from what? Why was she abducted? And how did she die?”

She made a noise that was something between a snort and a laugh. “How much time do you have?”

“Enough”, he answered, fixing his gaze on her face.

Hells – where do I start?

“Ever heard the term King of Shadows?”, she asked.

He frowned. “I’ve heard stories. Some evil power, trying to bring about the end of the world or something. Luckily was stopped by a couple of hero types. What does that have to do with everything?”

“Do you know about Crossroad Keep?”

He nodded. “Belongs to the Lady Knight that played the major role against that King of Shadows. But I heard there was some betrayal. Heard one of the comrades of the Knight Captain left it open to enemy invasion, so it got overrun by the undead. Nasty story.”

She saluted him with her tankard. “Well, I’m the Knight Captain. Guess who’s the nasty traitor?”

He stared at her in disbelief, and she could practically see the wheels turning behind his forehead. “You’re making this up.”

She took a deep swig of her ale. “Unfortunately not.”, she stated. “Lana Steel, at your service. So not pleased to meet you again, Bishop.”

“Oh gods”, he said, weakly.

She nodded. “I second that.”

“Why? Why would I have done anything like that?”, he asked, a desperate tone in his voice.

Lana shrugged. “Because you thought mine was the losing side. And you told me that’s where you never were found.”

He stared at her, horror on his face. “You make me sound like a monster.”

She shrugged. “You’re as close as you get while still being human.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “This can’t be true!”

She smiled without humour. “Don’t say I did not warn you beforehand. Shall I stop?”

He let his hand sink and opened his eyes. His face was pale, but he said: “Might as well hear it all, I guess. But I still am not sure if I believe you.”

“Not my problem. So, where were we? Ah yes, so you left for what you thought was the winning side. After you sabotaged the gates of my Keep, so Garius and his undead could overrun us. We beat them, but it cost us dearly. There’s a lot of blood on your hands from that day alone. Not that it made a difference, really – there was plenty of blood on them before that.”

His face went even paler. “Please – tell me that is not true”, he said.

“Sorry, wolf boy – it’s the truth or nothing. If you want sweet lies, find a whore and pay for it.”

He swallowed. “Fine – what am I? Serial killer? Mass murderer?”

Closer to home than you think.

But she only said, matter-of-factly: “Well, you kill whoever stands in your way. Without compunction. As far as I know, there had been more than a few fatalities before we even met. You were kind of proud of that.”

“Proud...?”, he said, with effort.

“Yes, your philosophy is that whoever is too weak to defend himself deserves to die. You never get tired of pointing that out. And you don’t mind dealing said death yourself.”

He swallowed. “If all that is true, how come you included me in your group of companions?”

Lana sighed. “You have your uses. Apart from my father, you’re the finest tracker I’ve ever met. You’re damn good with your bow, and your skill with your scimitars is nothing to sneeze at. And I needed every ally I could get. Besides...”, she hesitated, sadness rising in her, “I hoped you might change, at least a little. That you would realise there were some things worth fighting for, other than your own interests. The King of Shadows... he threatened not just me, but all of the Sword Coast. I thought not even you could ally with that. The worst I expected from you was just to vanish into thin air, but not defect to an enemy like that. I thought that beyond even you. I was wrong, and many paid with their lives for my error.”

“Oh, gods”, he choked.

She said nothing, sipping her ale, waiting if he wanted to go on.

“So... I betrayed you, but you let me go, as you said?”, he asked at last, his voice strangled.

She looked up and found his eyes on her, with a haunted expression.

“No”, she said. “You just left, after gloating some. But that was not the last time we met. The last time I saw you was when you faced us, at the side of Garius. Then you suddenly decided you’d betray him as well, and you just left again. That was when I let you go, instead of striking you down together with your former master.”

“I betrayed you to him, and then I betrayed him to you?”, he asked, still pale under his tan.

“Actually, you decided you did not like the tone with which he talked to you. So you said you’d be off.”

“I see”, he said, sounding as if the did not understand anything anymore. “And you could have killed me, for what I did – but did not. Why?”

Lana shrugged. “Because I’m not you. I still feel remorse sometimes. And we’ve been through a lot together. Even if you’re a pain in the ass at the best of times, and a cold hearted, unscrupulous bastard at the worst, we’ve been fighting together for a long time. That means something to me, even if it means bugger all to you. So I simply could not kill you. And I even talk to you, as you can see for yourself. Anyway, that is the end of my little story. Hope it was entertaining.”

She gave him a lopsided grin and drained her tankard.

He pushed his chair back and staggered to his feet. “I think I need some fresh air”, he said, hoarsely. “I... thank you for your honesty. And for what it’s worth... I’m sorry. I don’t know if I wish I had not met you, if I wish I had not learned all this about me – but I’m sorry for what I did.”

She laughed bitterly. “Tell that to the dead. And the ones left behind.”

He flinched and turned to leave. Lana watched him go, passing through the taproom to the door outside, his shoulders hunched, head down. Should she feel sorry for him?

Hardly. Even if he felt guilty, if he was tormented by what she had told him, it was only a fraction of what he deserved. But somehow, the image of his haunted eyes kept creeping up in her mind.

She did not feel thirsty anymore. She felt tired. Dragging up all that memories had been hard. The memories of her friends, so many of them dead. And even if she had not spoken of him, it had brought back the still fresh pain of Casavir’s death.

Half a year, my love, and I still miss you so much.

Abruptly, she got up and grabbed her sword and cloak. She would get a room, and go to sleep. Trips down Memory Lane were painful, and exhausting, and not only for Bishop. She would get some rest and hope that everything looked brighter in the morning. It usually didn’t, but one could still hope.

She did not sleep well that night and got up with the first light of the sun. As expected, things did not look much brighter than last evening. She hated the mornings, because when she awoke, she still always reached out for Casavir at her side – only to find the other half of the bed painfully empty. And it came all rushing back.

Gods, she missed him so much in the mornings... the light in his blue eyes, the love shining in them when he kissed her awake, his deep voice, telling her how much he loved her, tenderly whispering sweet nothings into her ear... his strong arms, holding her... yes, the mornings were torment. Even worse than the evenings, when she missed cuddling into his warmth, feeling safe in his arms, snuggled against his strong body...

She hastily shoved the memories away while she washed with the cold water she had poured into a washing bowl. Shivering, she slipped into her clothes, threw her chain shirt over her head, grabbed her things and went downstairs for an early breakfast. If she was lucky, no one else would be up yet.

But when she entered the taproom, she saw Bishop, already sitting in front of an untouched plate with eggs and bread. He looked up at her, and she thought he looked positively ill, his face pallid with deep shadows under his eyes. This time she could not help feeling a little sorry for him.

If he really does not remember – must be harsh, learning all that about yourself.

The thought made her pause at his table. He said nothing, just looked at her, still that haunted expression in his eyes. In an impulse, she sat down opposite of him.

“Bad night, huh?”, she asked.

He looked down at his hands, playing with his fork. “I could not sleep”, he said. “Too much on my mind.”

Lana sighed. “Maybe I should not have told you. Or not everything.”

And I still have not told you the worst thing you did.

Bishop looked up, quickly. “No. Please, I’m grateful you even talked to me. I find it hard to believe that... that I am as bad as you described, but somehow I don’t think you were lying to me. But it will take some time to cope.”

His eyes fell to the still untouched plate in front of him, and he pushed it towards her. “If you want to – it’s still warm. I have not touched it. I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“You sure?”, she asked. “Starving yourself is hardly the solution.”

“I won’t starve. But I feel ill this morning. Take it.”

She shrugged and started tucking into the eggs.

He watched her in silence. When she was finished, she nodded at him and got up.

“I’ll be off then. Don’t take it wrong, but I hope we won’t meet again. But I do hope you will find some peace.”

He got up as well and took his backpack and his weapons, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Thank you”, he said, sounding as tired as he looked. “I would ask you if there was someone else I could talk to, but it seems like I can not let my face be seen anywhere near someone who knows you. And it seems like I best avoid Neverwinter.”

“Very advisable. Visiting Neverwinter could be a hazard to your health.”

They left the inn together. Bishop nodded at her one last time, then started down the road to the south.

My direction as well. I best wait for a bit, I really don’t want to walk with him.

She watched him walk down the dirt road, next to the deep rutted tracks the coaches had left over the years. Then she heard the sound of hooves and the rumbling of a carriage, just before it came round the bend, accompanied by maybe a dozen guards.

She drew her brows together. She knew these black uniforms... Luskan! And Bishop just kept going.

Get off the road – what are you doing?

Then it hit her.

I have not told him to be wary of Luskan!

Because she wanted to avoid the whole Luskan – Redfallow’s Watch business.

Damn!

She saw Bishop stand aside for the carriage to pass. She saw the first guards walk past him, when suddenly the curtain of the carriage moved, and a sharp voice sounded out: “That man – arrest him!”

Damn, damn, damn!

Description
Enemies Lost

Bishop drew his brows together, leaned back in his chair and started to push his mug around on the table, his eyes fixed on it. “I think you’re exaggerating”, he said.

Lana shrugged, still grinning. “Please yourself. If it helps you sleep at night – I don’t care if you believe me.”

He looked up, brows still drawn together. “You seem to know me pretty well. Why, if I am that awful?”

She shrugged again. “Necessity. I needed your help, unfortunately.”

His face lit up a little. “Well, if I helped you out, there you go. I can’t have been as black as you paint me.”

She snorted. “A friend of mine got abducted by some really bad guys. You’re a good tracker and were my only chance of finding her quick enough to save her. Your answer was that it was not your problem, you were not running after some farm girl, and certainly not with any kin of Duncan. My uncle had to blackmail you to help.”

“Blackmail me? But... how?”

Now, do I tell him the whole story?

Better not. Not yet, anyway. Besides, she still was not fully convinced this was not some sick game.

“Obviously, you had some old debt to him”, she said, noncommittally.

“So... you’re telling me that some woman’s life was at stake, and I could help save her, but would not?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“But... why?”, he asked, bewildered.

She smiled thinly. “Because you never do anything for anyone but yourself.”

“Come now”, he protested. “No one is that bad.”

She took a swig of her ale, regarding him calmly. “If you don’t like what you’re hearing, you might want to leave. Because it gets worse, believe me.” She waved to the serving girl for another ale.

The girl came over to take her empty tankard away.

“I’d like another one, too, please”, Bishop addressed the girl, shaken. “Looks like I’m going to need it.”

Well, I’ve certainly never heard him use the word “please” as much.

They sat in silence for a moment, Bishop obviously deep in thought, Lana observing him intently. When the girl had brought the ales, he toasted her with a sarcastic smile reminiscent of his old sneer.

“Well then”, he said. “Don’t spare me, tell me the worst. Did we rescue the damsel in distress?”

That sounded much more like the Bishop she knew. She looked at him sharply, but despite the cynical tone of his voice, his eyes seemed sad, wounded, with no trace of the predatory gleam that was so typical for him.

“Yes, we did rescue her”, she said, feeling the old anguish rise in her. They had saved Shandra... only so she could sacrifice herself later. So many of her friends... dead, lost, gone. But the traitor had survived, sitting at her table, drinking ale. Where was the justice in that?

“You sound sad”, he said. “Why, if we saved her?”

“We only saved her so she could die later”, she said, bitterly.

“I’m sorry”, he said softly. “You cared for her very much, didn’t you?”

“I promised her to protect her”, she said, and it was her time to stare into her ale. “I let her down. And she died.”

“I still don’t understand”, he said. “Protect her from what? Why was she abducted? And how did she die?”

She made a noise that was something between a snort and a laugh. “How much time do you have?”

“Enough”, he answered, fixing his gaze on her face.

Hells – where do I start?

“Ever heard the term King of Shadows?”, she asked.

He frowned. “I’ve heard stories. Some evil power, trying to bring about the end of the world or something. Luckily was stopped by a couple of hero types. What does that have to do with everything?”

“Do you know about Crossroad Keep?”

He nodded. “Belongs to the Lady Knight that played the major role against that King of Shadows. But I heard there was some betrayal. Heard one of the comrades of the Knight Captain left it open to enemy invasion, so it got overrun by the undead. Nasty story.”

She saluted him with her tankard. “Well, I’m the Knight Captain. Guess who’s the nasty traitor?”

He stared at her in disbelief, and she could practically see the wheels turning behind his forehead. “You’re making this up.”

She took a deep swig of her ale. “Unfortunately not.”, she stated. “Lana Steel, at your service. So not pleased to meet you again, Bishop.”

“Oh gods”, he said, weakly.

She nodded. “I second that.”

“Why? Why would I have done anything like that?”, he asked, a desperate tone in his voice.

Lana shrugged. “Because you thought mine was the losing side. And you told me that’s where you never were found.”

He stared at her, horror on his face. “You make me sound like a monster.”

She shrugged. “You’re as close as you get while still being human.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “This can’t be true!”

She smiled without humour. “Don’t say I did not warn you beforehand. Shall I stop?”

He let his hand sink and opened his eyes. His face was pale, but he said: “Might as well hear it all, I guess. But I still am not sure if I believe you.”

“Not my problem. So, where were we? Ah yes, so you left for what you thought was the winning side. After you sabotaged the gates of my Keep, so Garius and his undead could overrun us. We beat them, but it cost us dearly. There’s a lot of blood on your hands from that day alone. Not that it made a difference, really – there was plenty of blood on them before that.”

His face went even paler. “Please – tell me that is not true”, he said.

“Sorry, wolf boy – it’s the truth or nothing. If you want sweet lies, find a whore and pay for it.”

He swallowed. “Fine – what am I? Serial killer? Mass murderer?”

Closer to home than you think.

But she only said, matter-of-factly: “Well, you kill whoever stands in your way. Without compunction. As far as I know, there had been more than a few fatalities before we even met. You were kind of proud of that.”

“Proud...?”, he said, with effort.

“Yes, your philosophy is that whoever is too weak to defend himself deserves to die. You never get tired of pointing that out. And you don’t mind dealing said death yourself.”

He swallowed. “If all that is true, how come you included me in your group of companions?”

Lana sighed. “You have your uses. Apart from my father, you’re the finest tracker I’ve ever met. You’re damn good with your bow, and your skill with your scimitars is nothing to sneeze at. And I needed every ally I could get. Besides...”, she hesitated, sadness rising in her, “I hoped you might change, at least a little. That you would realise there were some things worth fighting for, other than your own interests. The King of Shadows... he threatened not just me, but all of the Sword Coast. I thought not even you could ally with that. The worst I expected from you was just to vanish into thin air, but not defect to an enemy like that. I thought that beyond even you. I was wrong, and many paid with their lives for my error.”

“Oh, gods”, he choked.

She said nothing, sipping her ale, waiting if he wanted to go on.

“So... I betrayed you, but you let me go, as you said?”, he asked at last, his voice strangled.

She looked up and found his eyes on her, with a haunted expression.

“No”, she said. “You just left, after gloating some. But that was not the last time we met. The last time I saw you was when you faced us, at the side of Garius. Then you suddenly decided you’d betray him as well, and you just left again. That was when I let you go, instead of striking you down together with your former master.”

“I betrayed you to him, and then I betrayed him to you?”, he asked, still pale under his tan.

“Actually, you decided you did not like the tone with which he talked to you. So you said you’d be off.”

“I see”, he said, sounding as if the did not understand anything anymore. “And you could have killed me, for what I did – but did not. Why?”

Lana shrugged. “Because I’m not you. I still feel remorse sometimes. And we’ve been through a lot together. Even if you’re a pain in the ass at the best of times, and a cold hearted, unscrupulous bastard at the worst, we’ve been fighting together for a long time. That means something to me, even if it means bugger all to you. So I simply could not kill you. And I even talk to you, as you can see for yourself. Anyway, that is the end of my little story. Hope it was entertaining.”

She gave him a lopsided grin and drained her tankard.

He pushed his chair back and staggered to his feet. “I think I need some fresh air”, he said, hoarsely. “I... thank you for your honesty. And for what it’s worth... I’m sorry. I don’t know if I wish I had not met you, if I wish I had not learned all this about me – but I’m sorry for what I did.”

She laughed bitterly. “Tell that to the dead. And the ones left behind.”

He flinched and turned to leave. Lana watched him go, passing through the taproom to the door outside, his shoulders hunched, head down. Should she feel sorry for him?

Hardly. Even if he felt guilty, if he was tormented by what she had told him, it was only a fraction of what he deserved. But somehow, the image of his haunted eyes kept creeping up in her mind.

She did not feel thirsty anymore. She felt tired. Dragging up all that memories had been hard. The memories of her friends, so many of them dead. And even if she had not spoken of him, it had brought back the still fresh pain of Casavir’s death.

Half a year, my love, and I still miss you so much.

Abruptly, she got up and grabbed her sword and cloak. She would get a room, and go to sleep. Trips down Memory Lane were painful, and exhausting, and not only for Bishop. She would get some rest and hope that everything looked brighter in the morning. It usually didn’t, but one could still hope.

She did not sleep well that night and got up with the first light of the sun. As expected, things did not look much brighter than last evening. She hated the mornings, because when she awoke, she still always reached out for Casavir at her side – only to find the other half of the bed painfully empty. And it came all rushing back.

Gods, she missed him so much in the mornings... the light in his blue eyes, the love shining in them when he kissed her awake, his deep voice, telling her how much he loved her, tenderly whispering sweet nothings into her ear... his strong arms, holding her... yes, the mornings were torment. Even worse than the evenings, when she missed cuddling into his warmth, feeling safe in his arms, snuggled against his strong body...

She hastily shoved the memories away while she washed with the cold water she had poured into a washing bowl. Shivering, she slipped into her clothes, threw her chain shirt over her head, grabbed her things and went downstairs for an early breakfast. If she was lucky, no one else would be up yet.

But when she entered the taproom, she saw Bishop, already sitting in front of an untouched plate with eggs and bread. He looked up at her, and she thought he looked positively ill, his face pallid with deep shadows under his eyes. This time she could not help feeling a little sorry for him.

If he really does not remember – must be harsh, learning all that about yourself.

The thought made her pause at his table. He said nothing, just looked at her, still that haunted expression in his eyes. In an impulse, she sat down opposite of him.

“Bad night, huh?”, she asked.

He looked down at his hands, playing with his fork. “I could not sleep”, he said. “Too much on my mind.”

Lana sighed. “Maybe I should not have told you. Or not everything.”

And I still have not told you the worst thing you did.

Bishop looked up, quickly. “No. Please, I’m grateful you even talked to me. I find it hard to believe that... that I am as bad as you described, but somehow I don’t think you were lying to me. But it will take some time to cope.”

His eyes fell to the still untouched plate in front of him, and he pushed it towards her. “If you want to – it’s still warm. I have not touched it. I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“You sure?”, she asked. “Starving yourself is hardly the solution.”

“I won’t starve. But I feel ill this morning. Take it.”

She shrugged and started tucking into the eggs.

He watched her in silence. When she was finished, she nodded at him and got up.

“I’ll be off then. Don’t take it wrong, but I hope we won’t meet again. But I do hope you will find some peace.”

He got up as well and took his backpack and his weapons, leaning against the wall next to him.

“Thank you”, he said, sounding as tired as he looked. “I would ask you if there was someone else I could talk to, but it seems like I can not let my face be seen anywhere near someone who knows you. And it seems like I best avoid Neverwinter.”

“Very advisable. Visiting Neverwinter could be a hazard to your health.”

They left the inn together. Bishop nodded at her one last time, then started down the road to the south.

My direction as well. I best wait for a bit, I really don’t want to walk with him.

She watched him walk down the dirt road, next to the deep rutted tracks the coaches had left over the years. Then she heard the sound of hooves and the rumbling of a carriage, just before it came round the bend, accompanied by maybe a dozen guards.

She drew her brows together. She knew these black uniforms... Luskan! And Bishop just kept going.

Get off the road – what are you doing?

Then it hit her.

I have not told him to be wary of Luskan!

Because she wanted to avoid the whole Luskan – Redfallow’s Watch business.

Damn!

She saw Bishop stand aside for the carriage to pass. She saw the first guards walk past him, when suddenly the curtain of the carriage moved, and a sharp voice sounded out: “That man – arrest him!”

Damn, damn, damn!