Chapter 1. Bounty Hunters

ost people could safely put the past behind them.  Pendaran Caradec, however, was not one of them. 

Dodging into an alley, he winced as an arrow shattered against the wall beside his head and barely managed to duck behind a barrel as a second zinged through the empty air that had once been the location of his thigh.  It was hard to tell whether they were trying to kill him or capture him at this point.  Either way, he had no intention of becoming a ranger’s pincushion.

“We’ve got him cornered,” growled the scruffy ranger to his compatriots.  Pendaran was not certain how many there were, but it was unlikely he could take them all on his own.  He weighed his options as he grimly drew his domination mask down over his face.  His green eyes blazed with malice as he prepared to fight.

“There is more coin to be had if I am delivered back to my friends alive,” Pendaran said calmly, sensing desperation and scarlet flashes of greed.

“Friends?” snorted his pursuer, “What friends? You aren’t even wearing the insignia of a guild.  And even if a lecherous swine like you had friends, I doubt they’d pay us even a fraction of what your head is worth to Master Blackthorne.”

“I think you’d be wrong about that,” Pendaran replied coldly, scanning the alley and swearing to himself.  He was trapped.  The grimy walls of buildings rose up on three sides, boxing him in amid greasy puddles, drying laundry, rubbish, and barrels.  There was a door above a short set of stairs but no guarantee it would open and it would leave him exposed for target practice the minute he went to it.

“Come out of hiding, mesmer dog, and it will go easier on you.”

“Oh, so I’ll die easier as opposed to harder? Clever,” he said, hoping his words would delay them

Pendaran cursed under his breath, peering past the barrel as a pair of young men stalked into the alley, the archer some paces off ready to shoot.  One bore the staff and trappings of a necromancer and the other of a warrior.

He would have to move soon.  The angry visage of the warrior, the one who was speaking, was visible now beneath his plumed open-faced helm.  The man’s ragged black hair seeped like a stain over the shoulders of his dented armor.  The poor repair of his gear matched the notches and rust that scored the cruel curve of his axe and the battered brass bosses upon his faded green buckler.  Pendaran was mildly annoyed that second rate bounty hunters had been sent after him.  If they were going to ruin his day, they might at least do so with a degree of class.

“Stop backing away, coward.  Fight like a man.”

“I regret that I will have to kill at least one of you,” he said mildly, “Which is a shame since we have not been properly introduced.”

Hoarse laughter greeted his words, as it often did. 

“Shut it, fancy man,” the necromancer said wheezily and the hair of Pendaran’s nape rose as he heard the beginning of a long familiar incantation.  A blood drinker, and a nice slow one, at that.  Without hesitation, he hissed a spell and watched with satisfaction as the fool screamed in pain, his poor attempt to siphon Pendaran’s life energy failed.  An arrow thumped into the barrel before him and the warrior charged forth and swung his dirty axe.  Amateurs.  The ranger was only able to shoot a stationery man.

The warrior swung his axe only to flail backwards in agony, crying out in frustration as Pendaran lashed him and the nearby necromancer with yet another painful defensive spell.  Another hex died on the necromancer’s lips and his deep green scars burned vividly against his pale frightened flesh.  Of the three of them, he was the first to realize they had seriously underestimated their quarry. Pendaran rewarded the fool with one of his most insidious hexes before dodging backwards beyond the reach of arrows.  The ranger swore and paused to string his longbow, clever enough not to come any closer than he must.

Pendaran focused inward, chanting a shimmering field of magenta energies into being moments before the necromancer directed a hex of his own.  An evil grin lurked beneath his mask as the fool was brutally punished when the spell backfired.  The necromancer’s  hex hissed and fizzled off of Pendaran’s protective stance, further lashing the pale man with released chaotic energies.  The scarred figure cried out in agony, thrashing once as he fell in the muck.  One down, two to go.

“As for you,” Pendaran growled coldly, focusing upon the warrior, “I think you should learn to empathize with your victims.”

Hissing the hex, he spun, wrapping the warrior in a shimmering field of magenta.  The man rushed him, swinging wide and reeling in pain with each attack.  Pendaran hissed in pain, dancing aside too late as a final clumsy swing of the axe tore into his arm.  Daunted, the warrior backed away.  Hesitation was a dangerous thing around a mesmer, Pendaran thought cruelly.

The warrior raised his axe and chanted a prayer, calling upon Dwayna to wrap him in a healing enchantment.  Pendaran snorted a laugh and the warrior realized his mistake too late as he was driven back by a painful surge of chaotic energy that tore the enchantment asunder. 

“Goodbye,” Pendaran snarled he burned away the warrior’s energies and watched him
collapse writhing to the cobbles.  The ranger at the end of the alley lowered his bow in horror.  It had all happened so quickly.

“I suggest running,” Pendaran announced, striding threateningly forward, “Preferably in the opposite direction.  I’m in a rather bad mood now.”

The man dropped his weapon and fled.  A pity it was nothing worth keeping, Pendaran thought as he gazed upon it.  Teleri was mad about bows, and here he was still without a suitable birthday present for her.  He winced at the sound of Brigit’s voice accompanied by the tramp of her steel boots rushing toward him at top speed.

“Pendaran!” she gasped, her freckled face flushed with exertion and anger, “Why did you sneak off like that? I’m supposed to be guarding you!”

Nandao trotted in her wake, a bemused look on his face as he gazed upon the two bodies lying strewn in the alley.

“Two, eh?  And not a mark on him.  I’d say he can take care of himself.”

Scandalized, Brigit stared at the wreckage, fingering her axe as her milky flesh burned scarlet.  Nandao touched the necromancer’s ribs with his toe and a miserable sound issued from the young man’s throat, his eyes fluttering and an expression of abject terror engraved upon his scarred visage as Pendaran gazed down at him through his harsh mask.

“Could you make sure they live?” Pendaran said to Nandao, “I don’t like to kill needlessly.”

“They tried to kill you,” Brigit moaned, “You want them to come back and try harder next time?”

They’re feckless kids doing a job for coin.  Look at them, they’re broke.  It’s not personal.”

“Please don’t kill me,” the necromancer whimpered, “I promise to leave you alone.”

Nandao puffed out his cheeks and sighed explosively.  He knelt down and prayed over the boy’s flesh until the lean figure sat up and thanked him.

“What is your name, lad?” Pendaran demanded.

“Utzaghel the Scourge.”

Nandao started giggling helplessly followed by Brigit’s loud braying guffaws.

“His real name is probably Melvin,” Nandao roared, “Melvin the Melon Mangler.”

“Oh stop,” Brigit laughed, losing control of herself while as the young necromancer burned with embarrassment, hunched over and miserable.

“You tell Master Blackthorne that the man he is looking for died in Cantha.  Now be gone with you,” Pendaran commanded.

“Yessir,” the young man squeaked as his warrior friend moaned and staggered away with him.

“And take your melons with you,” Brigit shouted, still laughing.

Pendaran drew the mask from his face and slid it back into his belt pouch.  He then fussed over the dirt on the knees of his black breeches and grumbled at the rip in his sleeve where the warrior’s dull axe had sliced his arm.  Nandao seized his wrist and had a look at it.

“Lucky, just a scratch.”

“I just got this jacket,” Pendaran mumbled, pulling his arm away in irritation, “and I suppose now everyone is going to be mad at me.”

“I’m mad at you,” Brigit said, “I promised Teleri I’d keep you out of trouble.  You’d think after the first three attempts on your life you’d learn to be a little more cautious and actually stick with your guardians.”

“I was trying to find a birthday present.  I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“As in “Surprise, I’m dead!”?” Nandao laughed.

Pendaran sighed, glaring at the monk.  He was tired of being watched and fussed over by his appointed guardians.   All he wanted to do was take a simple journey to Lion’s Arch every now and then.  Sure, he had enemies, but only the terminally stupid would attempt to strike him in broad daylight with so many people about.   Three wet-behind the ears adventurers hardly counted as a threat.

“Let’s head back,” Brigit said, “It’ll be supper by the time we reach the guild and I promised Sywno we’d be there this time.  Come along, Pen.”

It was no good arguing with them.  So what if he had been in a scuffle every time he visited Lion’s Arch?  They had been amateurish attempts to collect one of the many bounties that were currently placed on his head.  His life as a thieving rake had always been thus and he had just learned to look after himself and move on when things got too rough.

Pendaran smiled grimly to himself.  Of course, now that he was staying in one place, his enemies and their hired thugs were beginning to accumulate.  Traditionally, he moved on when such attacks became too frequent.   He sighed as the three of them marched toward the outer gate of the great city.  He should be grateful someone cared enough about him to offer their protection.  Given his past, he was most fortunate.

The familiar cobbles of Lions Arch poured out of the wide gate into the lush green of northern Kryta.  Once over the bridge, stones gave way to dirt and they followed the track for a time before turning off the track and walking toward the hidden Dunvael enclave.  Autumn was well under way,  but Kryta but it was still balmy and he sweated beneath his long jacket of fawn silk edged with heavy black and gold brocade.   As he trudged along after Brigit, he idly flicked yet another of Geetha’s abundant strands of hair from his lapel.  By now the lynx should be bald given how much time he had to spend removing its fur from his clothes.  Teleri’s demonstratively affectionate pet seemed to delight in destroying his limited wardrobe.

“I don’t suppose you could find it in your heart not to mention that little scuffle to anyone?”

Nandao laughed.

“You made your bed, you lie in it,” Brigit grumbled, “Do you know how annoying it is to follow an ungrateful prat around all day?  Guarding you isn’t exactly my idea of fun, either.”

“I’m betting Sywno will be talking to you this evening,” Nandao said.

“He’s not my guild leader.  It’s not as if he has much leverage over what I do,” Pendaran replied, keeping the bitterness from his voice.  Though he told himself that he did not want to be a member of the Dunvael guild, still it was annoying that Morisedd had made the choice for him by voting not to extend an offer to him.

Now Brigit laughed.

“You go on telling yourself that.”

“What does Teleri see in him?” Nandao smirked, “I thought mesmers were supposed to be smart.”

“If you were female you’d understand,” Brigit taunted, her mind transmitting lewd thoughts regarding his hindquarters as she made a gesture that caused Nandao to burst out laughing.  Pendaran blushed angrily, clenching his fist over his fine black cane and driving the unwelcome mental chatter of the warrioress from his awareness.

“Hello, I’m right here,” Pendaran said pointedly.

“So who did you sleep with to upset Master Blackthorne?” Brigit asked.

“My personal life is not open for discussion,” Pendaran said coldly, “Please, just leave me alone.”

Brigit glanced back at him, the smile leaving her face for he made no effort to hide the pain he was feeling as a result of her thoughtless comments.

“I’m sorry, Pen.  I went a little too far.”

“Yes you did.”

“I won’t mention anything to Sywno,” Nandao offered and Brigit nodded.

“But you have got to stop resisting our help.  It’s true that Sywno assigned me to guard you, but I like you, Pen, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Not to mention, Teleri would split you in two if anything did happen to him on your watch,” Nandao snickered at Brigit.

“It won’t,” Brigit said boldly, “but only if you start cooperating, Pen.”

He nodded, humbled by her blunt kindness.

“I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful,” Pendaran said after a time, “Dwelling here has been a challenge.  I don’t really fit.”

“I used to feel that way,” Nandao replied, “but after I robbed them blind a few times, they got used to me.”

“In other words, he had to give up gambling with his guild mates before they killed him,” Brigit laughed.  The monk blushed almost as red as his tattoos.

“But I never get to spend time with Teleri,” Pendaran said.

“True.  She doesn’t like it either,” Brigit pointed out, “Murdi really needs to find a new hobby until Uriel and Lemony get back from Cantha.”

They entered the narrow draw concealing the little village of sod huts that formed the Dunvael guild.  The faint path curved down into the gathering of small buildings, each blending perfectly with the flank of the surrounding hillsides with roofs of living earth and walls clad in ferns and moss.  As sunset approached, the circle of homes was thrown into deep shadow and the central fire blazed brightly as the evening’s meal of roasted boar filled the air with its toothsome odor.

Many of the members were already relaxing around the fire on the conveniently placed logs and stumps.  Sywno glanced up from his accustomed seat at the far end of the fire, his sharp gaze focused upon the only entrance to their camp.  He nodded at them, his silver hair gleaming in the dimness.  Teleri and Mabane were stretched out on a blanket nearby and she rose immediately to embrace Pendaran with a girlish laugh.

“Welcome home!” she said as he gathered her up into his arms, delighting in the warmth and joy that emanated from her being.  He kissed her lightly upon the cheek, aware that Mabane was watching them.  The boy was a young mesmer, raw and easily read.  Pendaran almost had to shield himself from the jealousy and fear that erupted from the boy’s psyche during every display of affection he made toward Teleri.  His mother was the center of his universe and Pendaran had no desire to disabuse him of that notion.

And it was yet another way that he was merely a guest and interloper among the Dunvael.  He clasped Teleri’s hand now, allowing her to lead him to her little piece of the circle as she and Brigit chattered about the day’s events.  He was just beginning to relax when Teleri seized his frayed wrist and glared at him.

“Fighting again?”

“Just a small tussle, my love,” he replied calmly, hoping she would drop it as he sat down on the log beside her nest of blankets.  Mabane’s pale blue eyes bored into him, alert to the anger in his mother’s voice. 

“What happened?” Sywno asked, the faintest timbre of command in his steady voice.  Brigit blushed and sat beside the guild leader as he shifted aside to make room for her.  Nandao, he noted, was wisely hurrying toward the hut that he shared with Pendaran.  Now Morisedd stalked toward Sywno, anger in his gray eyes.

“Move,” he said gruffly, and Pendaran shifted obediently aside so that Morisedd perched protectively between he and his sister, Teleri.

Brigit hesitated, glancing apologetically at Pendaran.

“I slipped away from them,” Pendaran interjected, “It was my fault.  Bounty hunters.  I handled them, but I realize I was being stupid and disrespectful.”

“Something you’re actually good at,” Morisedd said coldly.

Pendaran clenched his fists, fighting his anger and shame.

“That was uncalled for,” Sywno said to Morisedd, “However, Pendaran, I am wroth that you endangered yourself and by extension, my guild members.  I assigned them to you for your protection.  When you draw an attack, you place them needlessly in danger.  Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Master Sywno.  I apologize.”

His throat tightened as he felt the guild leader’s anger and disappointment wash over him.  What was he doing here?  He had no friends among the Dunvael and Teleri was out of reach.  As much as he loved her, he was second to Mabane and he was not selfish enough to expect otherwise.

Not to mention, he had ruined his life.  Now he was paying the consequences.

“If you continue to let your stubborn behavior endanger my people I will insist that you leave,” Sywno said grimly, “One more mistake and you are on your own.”

“No,” Teleri gasped.

Morisedd glared at his sister, annoyed that she dared to contradict the venerable leader of the guild.  Sywno gazed upon her kindly, his gray eyes gentle but firm.

“I trust Pendaran to weigh his options carefully,” Sywno said, “and now the matter is settled.  Morisedd, you will please refrain from antagonizing our guest any further.”

Pendaran silently thanked the old man as Morisedd rose grumbling from his side and moved back to his usual place on the other side of the fire where he had been carving toys for Mabane.  Then, as if nothing were amiss, Sywno signaled the beginning of the evening meal

Pendaran rose from his place beside the fire while Teleri was busy talking to Brigit.  He was aware of Mabane watching him withdraw with a feeling of satisfaction and relief.  Later, when the boy was asleep, he might consider returning and having something to eat, but for now, it was better for all concerned if he just went away to his hut for a while.  He needed some peace and quiet in which to meditate.