Chapter Text
Sound filtered back into Edgin's world slowly, muffled and repetitive, like rain falling and distant thunder. Heavy, humming, nonsensical noise.
It took ages to realize the noise was words.
It took lifetimes to realize the words were his name.
"Ed. Edgin. Ed!"
"Stop shouting," Edgin whispered, his ears ringing and ringing, the rain falling harder, the thunder getting closer. The world trembling and fading at the edges. Tilting sideways. "And shaking. Stop shaking me."
The tilting stopped, and then there was something in front of him, blocking the light, the glare of an uncovered flame creating a halo. The shadow moved, leaned in. Resolved into the hazy outline of a face with long black hair and familiar dark eyes.
Eyes Edgin had rarely seen so wide with panic.
"Ed," she said, Holga said, in a calmer, quieter voice than the one she'd been using. "Where are you hurt? Ed, answer me." The world tilted again, wobbling gently. "Ed, you've got to focus, okay? Tell me where you're hurt."
"I'm not," Edgin said, or tired to say, or thought he said. And it was true, mostly; he couldn't be absolutely sure, but he didn't think he was hurt. He didn't feel hurt. He felt numb.
"You're hurt somewhere," Holga insisted, the world trembling again as she shook him. "You're bleeding."
"I'm not," Edgin said.
"You are, you're -"
"I'm not," Edgin repeated, reaching up to swipe a hand over his cheek, inspecting it as it came away red. "It's not mine."
Holga didn't seem convinced. She looked over her shoulder, which reminded Edgin that behind Holga there was a whole alleyway, a whole street, a whole town beyond where they were sitting. A whole world, really. One that expanded far beyond Edgin and the ringing in his ears, and the ache in his hands, and the spreading pool of red that drowned out everything.
"Doric!" Holga shouted, and Edgin winced. "Doric, get over here. Ed needs you. He's hurt."
"I'm not hurt," Edgin insisted faintly, just as a second shadow appeared to block the mouth of the alley.
"You're covered in blood," Doric said, her horned head appearing against the fire as a demonic silhouette, limned in red.
"It's not mine," Edgin repeated, swiping again at his head, a vaguely tacky sensation dragging against his scalp. "Well, most of it isn't. I think."
She crouched to check for herself and he blinked at her, watching the shadows get longer, then deeper, then somehow longer again
"That fire's going to spread," Holga said, muffled and far away. Her outline detached itself to run toward the flame, and Edgin wanted to call her back, wanted to say wait, be careful, there's something, there's someone, they'll get you -
Only they wouldn't, of course. Holga and Doric wouldn't he here unless they'd dealt with their threat, and the pool of red spreading at Edgin's feet was proof that he'd dealt with his.
It was strange. Edgin wasn't innocent. He'd seen enough death in his rough and tumble youth, in his few short years with the Harpers, the two in prison, and a decade thieving. Somehow, in all that time, Edgin had never quite managed to kill anyone before, except by proxy. He'd never actually had to get up close and personal with it. He'd never had to sully his hands, run them red, run them filthy.
Until now.
"Edgin," Doric said, and it wasn't the first time she'd said it, because he could hear the edge in her voice, feel the sharpness in her hands as she touched him, looking for injuries. Looking for wounds that she could heal.
"What?" he asked, blinking into the shadows again, into the world of black and red. "I'm okay."
"You're not okay," she said, touching his shoulders, even though the red was dripping down his face, and staining his hands, and soaking into his pants. Nowhere near his shoulders, really.
And nowhere near his blood, either.
"It's warm," Edgin murmured, rubbing his sticky hands together. Warm. Like bathwater. "Why is it warm?"
Her hands tightened, then released. "The fire."
He blinked. "The what?"
As though her words had released him, suddenly he could feel it as well as see the hellish haze of it painting the alley wall. Suddenly he knew the heavy weight of a distant blaze, pressing down on him, could smell its smoky heat.
"The fire," Doric repeated, but Edgin hadn't been talking about the fire, and they both knew it. "Simon's putting it out. He said something about Druna the hag and went to get some spell components for something to smother it."
"Drueena."
She blinked, the bright blue of her eyes molten silver in the dark. "What?"
"Drueena was the hag," Edgin said, the simple act of explaining somehow grounding him, old memories rising to replace the new. "She was eating people on an island along the Sword Coast. We ended up burning most of it down. The island, I mean."
She looked interested. "On purpose?"
"Sort of. Maybe." He thought about it. "Accidentally on purpose? I mean, the fire was on purpose, but it spreading was an accident." He looked her in the face, feeling like he was seeing her fully for the first time in a long while. "Fire's clever that way. I'm glad Simon's putting this one out."
"Right," Doric said, helping Edgin to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled. "Easy."
"Yep," Edgin said, and didn't look at the body at his feet. "I'm good. I'm okay."
"You're not," Doric said again, looking at what Edgin wouldn't. "But he's definitely less okay."
"He's dead."
"Yeah." She moved her foot and there was a smooth, meaty sound, and bile crawled up Edgin's throat. "How'd you manage that?"
"Luck. He tailed me out of the tavern. I was wide open for a shot in the street, but he didn't take it. Followed me into the alley instead. Guess he wanted to surprise me." Edgin exhaled, pretending he couldn't hear it shake. "I surprised him first."
"Still," Doric said, a nudge from her foot and another faint, awful sound enough to create a new wave of dizzy sickness in Edgin. "Not easy to surprise one of them. Is he going to get up again?"
"No. I put a suppression cuff on him after I." He trailed off.
"Smart." She finally stopped moving her foot. "Did he get you at all, before you got him? A cut, a burn, anything?"
"No."
"You're sure?" Doric pressed. "Because even a scratch from a Red Wizard's blade can kill if -"
"You think I don't know that?" Edgin closed his eyes, and made himself not think of things, of people, he couldn't afford to think about just then. "I think I know that better than you."
"I'm just saying, it's necrotic damage. If he got a hit on you, and we don't treat it -"
"I'm fine!" Edgin shouted, and didn't realize he was shouting until the sound of his own voice echoed back to him from up and down the alley walls. He heard the distant sound of other people talking go momentarily quiet.
"Okay," Doric said almost gently, which was very gently for her. "Then we should probably get out of here. The city Watch can handle the body."
"Right," Edgin said, and forced himself to pick up his feet and step over the mess, letting momentum carry him out of the alley.
The fire wasn't quite out, the slow lick of red flames continuing to crawl along thatched rooftops like kindling. Two buildings had been consumed, their smoking remains jutting up to the sky like skeletons. Otherwise, the damage looked minimal. Edgin was surprised.
"Is everyone else okay?" he asked, belated panic lighting him up, sharpening the whole world with painful adrenaline. "Kira? Where's Kira?"
"She's here, she's fine," Doric reassured. "Didn't even realize what was happening until it was over."
Edgin's heart slowed from a shrieking gallop to an easier trot. "You're sure?"
Instead of answering, Doric tossed her chin to the left and Edgin turned to see Kira hurtling down the street toward them, her eyes wide and frantic.
"Dad!" Kira shouted, throwing herself into his arms, and he only barely managed to brace so they didn't fall over. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"
These questions were becoming repetitive and tiring, but Edgin wasn't about to tell Kira that. "I'm fine, Kir. I'm not hurt." He pushed her to arms length, scanning her quickly, cupping the side of her face to examine her eyes, her limbs, everywhere he could see. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine too," she said, frowning. "I was inside. I only came out because of all the fire."
Edgin smiled, relief blowing through him like a strong wind at the sight of that sullen scowl, the unhappy mutter. Kira wouldn't be so annoyed if she'd been caught in any of the crossfire, and an annoyed Kira was far more acceptable to Edgin than a frightened Kira.
"What happened?" Edgin asked her, before realizing he was asking the wrong person. He turned to Doric instead. "What happened?"
"He left directly after you," Doric said, not clarifying who 'he' was. They both knew; the point was to keep it vague for Kira. "There were three others with him, black robes. We each took one out, and then Simon got them all in a binding spell. They revived, but they're not going anywhere."
"Where is Simon?" Edgin asked, reminded, scanning around for the sorcerer, the only one of them he had yet to see in the aftermath.
Kira tugged at him, pulling him to look past one of the vendors. There, against the backdrop of an inky night, Edgin could see Simon working with three of the townsfolk to put out the flames threatening one of the tailor shops. Not far from them, Holga was doing the same at the tavern. Edgin felt something deep inside him relax at the sight of the whole party, alive and well.
"Eldath wept," Edgin said, giddy with sudden relief and gratitude. "Let me guess. Simon was throwing around fire bolts?"
"It's Drueena the hag all over again," Kira groused.
"You humans lead such chaotic lives," Doric commented.
"Look who's talking, Ms. Environmental Radical," Edgin said, just as Simon spotted them and came trotting over, a disrupted water spell trailing out behind him like a flag, soaking six outraged people as he went by.
"Ed! There you are! Are you -"
"I'm okay, I'm not hurt, he's dead, I'm fine," Edgin interrupted, tired of answering the same questions in the same ways.
"I wasn't going to ask -"
Edgin stared at him narrowly.
"Okay, I was," Simon admitted. "But you're okay? Truly? He didn't get you?" He looked Edgin up and down with real concern and relief. "And he's dead, you said?" The concern blossomed into skepticism. "Really? Because last I checked, you don't use magic, and Red Wizards do. So -"
"Red Wizard!" Kira gasped, her grip on Edgin tightening into a stranglehold. "You didn't say it was a Red Wizard!"
"You're right, I didn't," Edgin gritted out. "Thanks for that, Simon."
Simon had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry. But it's an important question, yeah? In case he's not the only one."
The thought hadn't even occurred to Edgin. He felt again the wash of red over his hands, his chest, hot and cloying, the smell -
"Not the only one," Edgin choked out, drawing Kira tight to his side, renewed panic making his skin crawl.
"Not that we should expect more!" Simon rushed out, paling alongside Edgin at the thought. "Not tonight! Or, or should we, I mean? There were four." His voice sped up, fed by panic and alarm. "Do they usually send four? What if it was five?"
Edgin closed his eyes and held Kira close, registering the distant sounds of shouting and chaos. "They sent four to my house. That night. A red robe, with three black."
That night. The night.
"Oh," Simon said, the soft flutter of his hand resting on Edgin's shoulder for a brief, bright moment, sympathy and apology in the clutch of his fingers. "Sorry."
Edgin nodded and opened his eyes to find Simon staring at him.
"You stopped this one," Simon said quietly, the genuine care in his voice grounding Edgin just a little. "You got him before he could hurt anyone."
"Yeah."
"How, of course," Simon added dramatically, "remains a mystery we might never -"
"He was a novice." Edgin made himself take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "New to his rank, if not new to his spellcraft."
"How could you tell?" Simon wanted to know.
"His sigils. He didn't have." He stopped. "And he came after me alone, when he should've waited for his backup. He was young." He forced himself to look Simon in the face. "Probably your age."
"Ah," Simon said weakly.
"The whole taking him by surprise thing probably helped," Doric added.
"You did?" Simon asked, impressed. "How? He left after you, didn't he? He had the advantage."
"He would've, but I knew what he was, and he didn't know that I knew. So, it was my advantage."
"Wait," Kira said, "you knew what he was. When did you know?"
"Uh," Edgin said, a tingle of danger making his fingers itch.
"Did you know in the tavern?" she pressed. "Before you left?"
"No?" Edgin tried.
"You baited him out? Why?" Kira warbled, and Edgin's heart hurt. "Why would you -"
"You there! Halt!"
The imperious shout of a guard was very familiar to Edgin, and had never been more welcome. He turned eagerly to find a whole battalion of the Watch barreling toward them.
"Oh, hey," Edgin said brightly, "about time you guys got here. I was starting to think that -"
A sword was leveled at his throat, and Edgin shut his mouth, the click of his teeth audible in the sudden quiet.
"Don't move," the Captain of the Watch ordered, eyes hard behind the length of her blade.
"Who?" Edgin made a show of looking around, noting that Doric had vanished, presumably into something too small to see. "Me?"
Her focus was unwavering. "Put your hands up."
Edgin didn't, clutching Kira to him tightly, in a way that wasn't entirely for show. "Why?"
"You're coming with us."
Edgin pointed to his own chest, affecting surprise. "What'd I do?"
"Set half the district on fire, from what I can see," the woman growled.
"Oh, no, that was me," Simon put in, entirely unhelpfully. "There were these assassins -" the sudden, hard attention of half the guards made him falter "- but, uh. We took care of them. As you, well." He gestured, his expression turning sickly. "As you can see."
The magic suppression cuff being thrust their way almost made Edgin groan. Trust Simon to find the one way to make a bad situation worse.
"No, it wasn't, I didn't - it was an accident!" Simon protested, scrambling closer to Edgin, who obligingly let the half-elf use him for cover. "Although, uh, funny story. The same thing happened a few years back. There was this hag, and -"
More swords left their sheathes.
Just past the Captain's shoulder, Edgin could see Holga being held by three guards of her own. She was watching Edgin closely, ready to intervene. Doric was still visibly missing. Simon was now tense and silent, almost pressed into Edgin's side, and Kira was pressed into his side, her fingers on her invisibility pendant.
If it came down to it, there was no chance a battalion of Neverwinter guards could take down their party. Simon had his magic, Edgin his wits, and Holga her battle prowess, not to mention Doric's ability to tear through unwelcome guests like the wild animal she occasionally became.
But none of them were eager to do that. For one thing, they lived here now, at least some of the time. It was bad form to make enemies of the Watch where you lived. For another, they might need the guard's good will to manage the incarceration of three Thayan assassins, not to mention whatever other misfortune might find them later.
"There's been a mistake," Edgin said in a final attempt at diplomacy. "Let's all just calm down."
"Oh, there's been no mistake, Mr. Darvis, Ms. Darvis, Sorcerer Aumar," the Commander said, eyes like flint.
She said their names slowly and pointedly, and the fact that she knew them, on sight and by name, made the hair on the back of Edgin's neck stand up. "Look, I don't know what you think happened here, but we didn't start this. We were attacked first."
"We know exactly what happened here," she said. "I've been ordered to bring you in. For your own protection."
She flicked the tip of her blade at him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was prepared to stab him for his own protection, too.
"Ordered," Edgin repeated, a bad feeling starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. "Ordered by whom?"
"Who do you think?"
"Lord Neverember?" Edgin suggested hopefully.
She gave him a mean smile, more telling than any words she might've used. "Hands. Now."
Edgin put up his hands. It was clear the only way through was forward, and the only way forward right now was at sword point.
At least the night was unlikely to get any worse.