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Description
Hope

Some bitter liquid was poured into Bishop’s mouth, running down his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He coughed and swallowed involuntarily.

“That’s it, lad, keep it up”, a cheerful voice reached his ear.

More of the bitter liquid. This time, he swallowed before it went down the wrong pipe.

“Good, good. You’ll see, you’ll be right as rain again in no time.”

He felt the pain in his body abating somewhat and tentatively opened his eyes. The face of a half-elf was looming above, sandy, lank hair hanging over his slightly pointed ears, slanted hazel eyes twinkling down on him.

What...?

Then the memories rushed back. He choked as all the pain hit him again, reached up and pushed the half-elf away. What had the bugger done? Had brought him back from the brink of welcome death, to this hell of a life?

“Now, now,” the man said soothingly. “No need to be rude. Name’s Duncan Farlong. I was visiting my brother in West Harbor, and on my way back to Neverwinter I smelled the smoke and came to see what was going on.” He shook his head in sorrow. “It’s bad, really bad. Nothing left of Redfallow’s Watch, just some shells of the houses. Everyone dead, it seems. Except for you. You’re lucky I came along.”

The words sounded innocent enough, but Bishop felt the piercing stare of the man on him, gauging every little reaction as he rambled on.

He knows.

He had to know. Bishop wore the Luskan uniform. Nevertheless, he kept up the charade. Bishop tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his gut made him fall back, wheezing.

“Now, take it easy, lad, you’re hurt more than a couple of potions can heal. Will take some time to get you on your feet again. Old Duncan here will look out for you in the meantime, no worries. Just lie back and get some sleep. What’s your name, by the way?”

Bishop lay back, closing his eyes. Would that man prattle on endlessly? Probably easier to tell him what he wanted to know, maybe then he would shut up.

“Bishop”, he croaked.

“Nice to meet you, Bishop.” Something pressed against his mouth. “Now, you drink some water, you need that, and then you go to sleep. Tomorrow everything will look a bit brighter, eh?”

Bishop swallowed the water pouring into his mouth, hating the man already.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt a lot better. At least physically. The wounds on his chest and back were dressed, and the pain was nearly gone. He managed to sit up, feeling a bit woozy, but otherwise he was fine.

Except he wasn’t fine at all. Thinking of the day before, black desperation choked him. Why, oh why had that retard have to come along and pull him back from the brink of death? Why did he have to live, to breathe, to feel? He did not want to feel anymore. He did not want to think anymore. Maybe he should just take his own dagger and finish what the escort could not.

He reached for his daggers, but his fingers found only empty air.

“Now, easy there, you don’t want to do that”, Duncan’s disapproving voice came from behind him.

Bishop slowly turned around. “What do you know?”, he hissed. “You think I’m thankful for what you did? Well, I’m not! So give me back my daggers already and let me finish.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, I won’t. Would be a waste of the two good potions I gave you yesterday. Besides, you’re much too young to even think of something like that. You’re still a kid, after all.”

Bishop snarled. “I’m not a kid! And I do what I please, so give me back my daggers and shove off!”

Duncan started packing his things as if he had not heard what Bishop had just said. “You can come with me, to the Sunken Flagon. Best house in the docks. Belongs to me. And you can see where you will be going after you get back on your feet. Take some time, rest, think, and everything will be right again, you’ll see.”

“You’re crazy!”, Bishop said with conviction. “Did you even hear what I said?”

Duncan grinned. “That’s what they all say”, he replied cheerily. “Now, can you walk?”

And Bishop had yielded to the greater power, for now, and had tried to get on his feet, slowly stumbling along with Duncan, cursing the man with every painful step.

The second day, he felt a bit more stable. He had relapsed into a sulky silence, not reacting to anything Duncan said. The half-elf did not seem to notice, prattling along endlessly about nothing at all. It grated on Bishop’s nerves so much, he wished the idiot would swallow his tongue and suffocate on it.

He tried to shut out the irritating chatter, tried to think about what he would do next.

Sarah.

He longed to see her. He knew her embrace was the only thing that would make the pain go away. But he could not see her, never again. He was a hunted man now, and he would only endanger her. He would not risk that.

But he would at least let them know why he left. He would slip back into Luskan. Had to hurry, before the news of this deed at Redfallow’s Watch reached the city. He would talk to Vincent, leave a message to Sarah. She deserved that much. The thought of her, worrying about him, waiting for him to return, for weeks and weeks, he could not bear that.

To be in time, he would have to make haste. So he would take leave of his irritating life-saver today. Like now. Duncan marched before him, his mouth running on and on. Bishop fell behind, until the half-elf was a couple of yards away, still prattling. Then Bishop slipped between the trees and swiftly turned into the direction of Luskan. A good thing they had trained him so thoroughly. He hardly ever lost his way in the wilderness.

Keep the daggers, he thought. Have fun with them. I have more important things to do.

He marched for two days and nights, without sleeping, until he reached the city gates, completely exhausted. The guards let him pass without giving him trouble. He still wore the uniform of an elite soldier, even if it was dirty, bloody, torn and burnt. He staggered through the streets until he reached Vincent’s house.

He knocked. The door opened, and he saw Vincent’s surprised face. Then he collapsed forward and would have crumbled on the floor if the other man had not caught him.

“By the gods, what happened?”, he heard Vincent’s voice dimly reach his ears, before he passed out.

Bishop came to, lying on the sofa in Vincent’s living room. Water splashed on his face. He sputtered and opened his eyes. Vincent was kneeling in front of him, worried expression on his face.

“You alright?”, he asked.

The question reminded Bishop in how many ways he was not alright, and he could not help tears welling up in his eyes, hating himself for being so pathetically weak in front of Vincent.

He sat up, angrily, rubbing at his eyes, trying to disguise the gesture as tiredness. He felt Vincent sit down beside him, his arm going round Bishop’s shoulder, holding him.

“Sometimes you need to cry, even if you’re a bad ass Luskan killer”, he heard him say. The sympathy in Vincent’s voice had done it, and the dam broke at last, the tears flowing as he blurted out everything that had happened, everything he had done. He cried all the tears he had held back for so many years, cried like the boy he still had been, despite everything.

When he was finished, the sobs slowly subsiding, Vincent’s hand still on his shoulder, he turned to face him, afraid what he would see on his friend’s face. Horror, revulsion, disgust? But he found only sympathy.

“What will you do now?”, Vincent asked.

Bishop stared down on his hands. Were they still bloody? There had been so much blood...

“I’m going to leave. If I stay, I’ll only endanger you. And Sarah. Will you...” he swallowed. “Will you tell her that I love her? But I can’t see her again. They’ll come after me, and I have to be far away when they find me. But I’ll never forget her.” He choked back another sob.

A cry from the doorway made him look up, and he saw Sarah, running through the room, blond hair trailing behind her like a veil, dropping to her knees in front of him. His blood froze. How much had she heard?

“No!”, she cried, her arms going round his waist, holding tight. “I’ll go with you!”

“No!”, both men said simultaneously.

“Yes, I will”, she said, stubbornly. “I love you. I want to be with you. And I won’t let you leave without me.”

Just her sight seemed to ease most of the pain he felt, and he only wanted to pull her near, hold her close, breathe in her scent and let it take away all the hurt. But he knew he could not do that, and that soon, she would be gone from his life entirely. He reached out, stroking her golden hair, and she nuzzled her cheek into his hand, giving him a trembling smile.

“Sarah”, he said softly. “You don’t understand. You can’t come with me. You won’t be safe.”

“Yes, I do!”, she said. “I heard everything. And I don’t care! I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care who will come after you. I don’t care where you go, as long as I will be with you.”

“You... you heard everything?”, he said, taken back. “And you still want to come with me? You can’t be serious! I’m a monster! You can’t love me, after you heard that!”

She reached up, stroking his cheek, a bright light in her eyes. “You’re no monster”, she said, softly. “I heard what you did, but I also heard you cry. Monsters don’t cry. It’s this city. Living here does that to a person. I know that. They just push you farther and farther, until you can’t tell wrong from right anymore. And they pushed you even farther than that. But we will leave it all behind. We’ll go somewhere, far away, and forget about this dump of a city. And we will be so happy together. You’ll see.”

He pulled her up, into his arms, holding her close, and he could feel his heart starting to heal. “You really mean that?”, he whispered, not daring to believe.

“I really mean that”, she said, kissing him tenderly.

He opened his eyes, looking over her shoulder into Vincent’s face. The older man shrugged. “I’m not happy about it”, he said. “But I know you love her, and you’ll take good care of her. And she is not wrong. I will he glad if she can leave this city, live somewhere else where people actually can be happy. And maybe I’m going to come after you, when you’ve found somewhere to settle down.”

Sarah turned, and hugged Vincent fiercely. “You’re the best brother in the world”, she said. “We will find a beautiful place, and then you will come and stay with us. It will be wonderful, you’ll both see.”

“I hope you are right”, Vincent said, hugging her back. Then he addressed Bishop again. “You are going to require money to travel fast. It will take me some time to get some together. In the meantime, you need a good place to hide. You can’t stay here. Sarah and you will leave tomorrow morning.”

Bishop nodded. “Thanks. I will stay in the ruins. They won’t find me there, if they even look. They probably will not expect me to come back here. They are going to think I fled into the woods.”

Vincent nodded, too, but said: “Probably, but we better take no risk. Those ruins are a creepy place, but you’re right, no one will see you there. But be careful. Go now, I will bring Sarah tomorrow, and you can be on your way.”

Bishop held out his hand to Vincent, who took it. Then he got up, facing Sarah, who smiled at him, little stars dancing in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her until he heard Vincent clear his throat. Then he lifted his head and smiled down on her. “I love you”, he whispered. “I will always love you.”

She stroked his cheek. “I love you too”, she smiled. “Go now, before someone finds you here. Tomorrow we will leave, and we will have our whole life together. I can’t wait.”

He hugged her one last time, then let go, turning to the door. He looked back over his shoulder, smiling at her once more, nodded to Vincent, and let himself out of the front door. Pulling up his hood, he hurried through the streets until he came up to the ruins. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped into the eerie shadows between the broken buildings. His heart beating fast, he made his way along crumbling walls, trying to find a good place to hide.

It was then he realised he did not even have weapons with him. He stopped, leaning against the wall next to him, looking around. Nothing moved. Hopefully it would stay that way, otherwise he was in trouble. Even more trouble, that was. He pushed away from the wall with his hands. He’d better get going, to find somewhere he could stay the night.

Suddenly, he felt the stone give under his hand, and a rumbling came from the wall behind him. He jumped, startled, and saw a piece of the wall retract and vanish to the side. What the...? He looked at the wall he had leaned on and found a stone that was pressed deeper into the wall. He had stumbled over a secret door through sheer luck.

He peered through the opening and saw a long, winding staircase descending into the darkness. No sound came from below. With a grating noise, the wall started to glide back into place, and he jumped back. When the gap had closed, he carefully examined the wall. He would never have suspected a door there. He pressed the stone again, and the wall swung back. Interesting. He had no light with him, but tomorrow, he would get a lantern from Vincent and try to find the corresponding mechanism from the inside. Who knew what use one could make of that discovery?

He memorised the location of the wall and the stone as best as he could. Then he found a small building, nearly intact, and slipped inside. He lay down in the dirt, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. If some of the inhabitants of the ruins found him, he would have to deal with it. But he just had to sleep.

And tomorrow, Sarah and he would leave here, to start a new life somewhere far away. He smiled. She really was an angel. If she could forgive him for what he had become, if she still could love him, after all he had done, then maybe some day he would be able to forgive himself.

There still was hope.

Description
Hope

Some bitter liquid was poured into Bishop’s mouth, running down his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He coughed and swallowed involuntarily.

“That’s it, lad, keep it up”, a cheerful voice reached his ear.

More of the bitter liquid. This time, he swallowed before it went down the wrong pipe.

“Good, good. You’ll see, you’ll be right as rain again in no time.”

He felt the pain in his body abating somewhat and tentatively opened his eyes. The face of a half-elf was looming above, sandy, lank hair hanging over his slightly pointed ears, slanted hazel eyes twinkling down on him.

What...?

Then the memories rushed back. He choked as all the pain hit him again, reached up and pushed the half-elf away. What had the bugger done? Had brought him back from the brink of welcome death, to this hell of a life?

“Now, now,” the man said soothingly. “No need to be rude. Name’s Duncan Farlong. I was visiting my brother in West Harbor, and on my way back to Neverwinter I smelled the smoke and came to see what was going on.” He shook his head in sorrow. “It’s bad, really bad. Nothing left of Redfallow’s Watch, just some shells of the houses. Everyone dead, it seems. Except for you. You’re lucky I came along.”

The words sounded innocent enough, but Bishop felt the piercing stare of the man on him, gauging every little reaction as he rambled on.

He knows.

He had to know. Bishop wore the Luskan uniform. Nevertheless, he kept up the charade. Bishop tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his gut made him fall back, wheezing.

“Now, take it easy, lad, you’re hurt more than a couple of potions can heal. Will take some time to get you on your feet again. Old Duncan here will look out for you in the meantime, no worries. Just lie back and get some sleep. What’s your name, by the way?”

Bishop lay back, closing his eyes. Would that man prattle on endlessly? Probably easier to tell him what he wanted to know, maybe then he would shut up.

“Bishop”, he croaked.

“Nice to meet you, Bishop.” Something pressed against his mouth. “Now, you drink some water, you need that, and then you go to sleep. Tomorrow everything will look a bit brighter, eh?”

Bishop swallowed the water pouring into his mouth, hating the man already.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt a lot better. At least physically. The wounds on his chest and back were dressed, and the pain was nearly gone. He managed to sit up, feeling a bit woozy, but otherwise he was fine.

Except he wasn’t fine at all. Thinking of the day before, black desperation choked him. Why, oh why had that retard have to come along and pull him back from the brink of death? Why did he have to live, to breathe, to feel? He did not want to feel anymore. He did not want to think anymore. Maybe he should just take his own dagger and finish what the escort could not.

He reached for his daggers, but his fingers found only empty air.

“Now, easy there, you don’t want to do that”, Duncan’s disapproving voice came from behind him.

Bishop slowly turned around. “What do you know?”, he hissed. “You think I’m thankful for what you did? Well, I’m not! So give me back my daggers already and let me finish.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, I won’t. Would be a waste of the two good potions I gave you yesterday. Besides, you’re much too young to even think of something like that. You’re still a kid, after all.”

Bishop snarled. “I’m not a kid! And I do what I please, so give me back my daggers and shove off!”

Duncan started packing his things as if he had not heard what Bishop had just said. “You can come with me, to the Sunken Flagon. Best house in the docks. Belongs to me. And you can see where you will be going after you get back on your feet. Take some time, rest, think, and everything will be right again, you’ll see.”

“You’re crazy!”, Bishop said with conviction. “Did you even hear what I said?”

Duncan grinned. “That’s what they all say”, he replied cheerily. “Now, can you walk?”

And Bishop had yielded to the greater power, for now, and had tried to get on his feet, slowly stumbling along with Duncan, cursing the man with every painful step.

The second day, he felt a bit more stable. He had relapsed into a sulky silence, not reacting to anything Duncan said. The half-elf did not seem to notice, prattling along endlessly about nothing at all. It grated on Bishop’s nerves so much, he wished the idiot would swallow his tongue and suffocate on it.

He tried to shut out the irritating chatter, tried to think about what he would do next.

Sarah.

He longed to see her. He knew her embrace was the only thing that would make the pain go away. But he could not see her, never again. He was a hunted man now, and he would only endanger her. He would not risk that.

But he would at least let them know why he left. He would slip back into Luskan. Had to hurry, before the news of this deed at Redfallow’s Watch reached the city. He would talk to Vincent, leave a message to Sarah. She deserved that much. The thought of her, worrying about him, waiting for him to return, for weeks and weeks, he could not bear that.

To be in time, he would have to make haste. So he would take leave of his irritating life-saver today. Like now. Duncan marched before him, his mouth running on and on. Bishop fell behind, until the half-elf was a couple of yards away, still prattling. Then Bishop slipped between the trees and swiftly turned into the direction of Luskan. A good thing they had trained him so thoroughly. He hardly ever lost his way in the wilderness.

Keep the daggers, he thought. Have fun with them. I have more important things to do.

He marched for two days and nights, without sleeping, until he reached the city gates, completely exhausted. The guards let him pass without giving him trouble. He still wore the uniform of an elite soldier, even if it was dirty, bloody, torn and burnt. He staggered through the streets until he reached Vincent’s house.

He knocked. The door opened, and he saw Vincent’s surprised face. Then he collapsed forward and would have crumbled on the floor if the other man had not caught him.

“By the gods, what happened?”, he heard Vincent’s voice dimly reach his ears, before he passed out.

Bishop came to, lying on the sofa in Vincent’s living room. Water splashed on his face. He sputtered and opened his eyes. Vincent was kneeling in front of him, worried expression on his face.

“You alright?”, he asked.

The question reminded Bishop in how many ways he was not alright, and he could not help tears welling up in his eyes, hating himself for being so pathetically weak in front of Vincent.

He sat up, angrily, rubbing at his eyes, trying to disguise the gesture as tiredness. He felt Vincent sit down beside him, his arm going round Bishop’s shoulder, holding him.

“Sometimes you need to cry, even if you’re a bad ass Luskan killer”, he heard him say. The sympathy in Vincent’s voice had done it, and the dam broke at last, the tears flowing as he blurted out everything that had happened, everything he had done. He cried all the tears he had held back for so many years, cried like the boy he still had been, despite everything.

When he was finished, the sobs slowly subsiding, Vincent’s hand still on his shoulder, he turned to face him, afraid what he would see on his friend’s face. Horror, revulsion, disgust? But he found only sympathy.

“What will you do now?”, Vincent asked.

Bishop stared down on his hands. Were they still bloody? There had been so much blood...

“I’m going to leave. If I stay, I’ll only endanger you. And Sarah. Will you...” he swallowed. “Will you tell her that I love her? But I can’t see her again. They’ll come after me, and I have to be far away when they find me. But I’ll never forget her.” He choked back another sob.

A cry from the doorway made him look up, and he saw Sarah, running through the room, blond hair trailing behind her like a veil, dropping to her knees in front of him. His blood froze. How much had she heard?

“No!”, she cried, her arms going round his waist, holding tight. “I’ll go with you!”

“No!”, both men said simultaneously.

“Yes, I will”, she said, stubbornly. “I love you. I want to be with you. And I won’t let you leave without me.”

Just her sight seemed to ease most of the pain he felt, and he only wanted to pull her near, hold her close, breathe in her scent and let it take away all the hurt. But he knew he could not do that, and that soon, she would be gone from his life entirely. He reached out, stroking her golden hair, and she nuzzled her cheek into his hand, giving him a trembling smile.

“Sarah”, he said softly. “You don’t understand. You can’t come with me. You won’t be safe.”

“Yes, I do!”, she said. “I heard everything. And I don’t care! I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care who will come after you. I don’t care where you go, as long as I will be with you.”

“You... you heard everything?”, he said, taken back. “And you still want to come with me? You can’t be serious! I’m a monster! You can’t love me, after you heard that!”

She reached up, stroking his cheek, a bright light in her eyes. “You’re no monster”, she said, softly. “I heard what you did, but I also heard you cry. Monsters don’t cry. It’s this city. Living here does that to a person. I know that. They just push you farther and farther, until you can’t tell wrong from right anymore. And they pushed you even farther than that. But we will leave it all behind. We’ll go somewhere, far away, and forget about this dump of a city. And we will be so happy together. You’ll see.”

He pulled her up, into his arms, holding her close, and he could feel his heart starting to heal. “You really mean that?”, he whispered, not daring to believe.

“I really mean that”, she said, kissing him tenderly.

He opened his eyes, looking over her shoulder into Vincent’s face. The older man shrugged. “I’m not happy about it”, he said. “But I know you love her, and you’ll take good care of her. And she is not wrong. I will he glad if she can leave this city, live somewhere else where people actually can be happy. And maybe I’m going to come after you, when you’ve found somewhere to settle down.”

Sarah turned, and hugged Vincent fiercely. “You’re the best brother in the world”, she said. “We will find a beautiful place, and then you will come and stay with us. It will be wonderful, you’ll both see.”

“I hope you are right”, Vincent said, hugging her back. Then he addressed Bishop again. “You are going to require money to travel fast. It will take me some time to get some together. In the meantime, you need a good place to hide. You can’t stay here. Sarah and you will leave tomorrow morning.”

Bishop nodded. “Thanks. I will stay in the ruins. They won’t find me there, if they even look. They probably will not expect me to come back here. They are going to think I fled into the woods.”

Vincent nodded, too, but said: “Probably, but we better take no risk. Those ruins are a creepy place, but you’re right, no one will see you there. But be careful. Go now, I will bring Sarah tomorrow, and you can be on your way.”

Bishop held out his hand to Vincent, who took it. Then he got up, facing Sarah, who smiled at him, little stars dancing in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her until he heard Vincent clear his throat. Then he lifted his head and smiled down on her. “I love you”, he whispered. “I will always love you.”

She stroked his cheek. “I love you too”, she smiled. “Go now, before someone finds you here. Tomorrow we will leave, and we will have our whole life together. I can’t wait.”

He hugged her one last time, then let go, turning to the door. He looked back over his shoulder, smiling at her once more, nodded to Vincent, and let himself out of the front door. Pulling up his hood, he hurried through the streets until he came up to the ruins. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped into the eerie shadows between the broken buildings. His heart beating fast, he made his way along crumbling walls, trying to find a good place to hide.

It was then he realised he did not even have weapons with him. He stopped, leaning against the wall next to him, looking around. Nothing moved. Hopefully it would stay that way, otherwise he was in trouble. Even more trouble, that was. He pushed away from the wall with his hands. He’d better get going, to find somewhere he could stay the night.

Suddenly, he felt the stone give under his hand, and a rumbling came from the wall behind him. He jumped, startled, and saw a piece of the wall retract and vanish to the side. What the...? He looked at the wall he had leaned on and found a stone that was pressed deeper into the wall. He had stumbled over a secret door through sheer luck.

He peered through the opening and saw a long, winding staircase descending into the darkness. No sound came from below. With a grating noise, the wall started to glide back into place, and he jumped back. When the gap had closed, he carefully examined the wall. He would never have suspected a door there. He pressed the stone again, and the wall swung back. Interesting. He had no light with him, but tomorrow, he would get a lantern from Vincent and try to find the corresponding mechanism from the inside. Who knew what use one could make of that discovery?

He memorised the location of the wall and the stone as best as he could. Then he found a small building, nearly intact, and slipped inside. He lay down in the dirt, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. If some of the inhabitants of the ruins found him, he would have to deal with it. But he just had to sleep.

And tomorrow, Sarah and he would leave here, to start a new life somewhere far away. He smiled. She really was an angel. If she could forgive him for what he had become, if she still could love him, after all he had done, then maybe some day he would be able to forgive himself.

There still was hope.