Chapter 13 - Part 2

Feather came back, landing on Delegado’s shoulder. The half-orc didn’t need a spell to see that the hawk was worried. The hawk had seen what Thomas had on his second trip out. According to the half-daelkyr the warforged were moving cautiously in many small parties. Thomas had actually spotted the warforged officer that had escaped Pienna’s earlier attack, and he had hurried back to tell the others, who were now short another man. That fellow had at least had the decency to say goodbye before running back to town, explaining with a shamed face that he had a family. Chubat had let him go with a wave, refusing to talk to him.

“The litter is almost ready,” Chubat said hoarsely. “And I sent back two men to have more medical care ready. Maybe there’s another druid about or something.”

“Or something,” Delegado sighed. “You heard about the warforged?”

“Aye, moving cautiously, careful of traps. It buys us some time at least.”

“Not enough,” Delegado told him. “They’re moving faster than is safe for us to move bearing a litter. We won’t get back in time ahead of them.”

“Can we fight them off?” Chubat said. “You have good range on your bow.”

“Yeah, but in this terrain I may not get a clear shot at them, and more importantly, I have to monitor her,” the half-orc explained. “I’m the only one here who has the training to do something if her stitches open, or if something else happens. I need to keep my eyes on her and my hands free.”

“Aye,” Chubat said. “I thank you anyway, you know.”

“Yeah,” Delegado said, wishing for a strong drink. “It’s okay, I like the lady.”
An awkward silence followed.

“Um,” the dwarf said, trying to find some words. Delegado smiled, but hid it. He bet he knew what was coming. “Delegado…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” the dwarf said, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry that you did, too,” Delegado said. He resisted an urge to laugh. “I’m also sorry I ever besmirched your honor. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

“Yer damn right I am,” Chubat said. Then in a softer voice he added. “And I’m sorry I misjudged you. I would have thought you’d have taken off with no care of this matter.”

Yeah, Delegado thought to himself. Me too. And I’ll kiss the Keeper’s bony warts if I know why I didn’t. The half-orc forced a chuckle, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. “So you’re in charge now or something?” he asked the dwarf.

“Thomas thinks so, Orphan thinks so, the Wardens of the Wood think so, and I don’t see anyone arguing,” Chubat said, caressing his axe head.

“No you don’t,” Delegado laughed. He then turned serious. “Look, unless she gets one soft walk and lots of careful care the whole way back, she will die. No maybes. She will die.”

“I get that,” Chubat said. “Okay,” he called to the others. “Let’s move her onto the litter – carefully!”

Delegado started to put bits and pieces of his healer’s kit into his belt pouches for easy access, when he saw the warforged walking over to him. “Delegado,” Orphan said. “And Chubat. A word please.”

“We’re a bit busy now,” Chubat said, turning back to the half-orc and the warforged.

“And you don’t have enough time to get her back to the fortifications,” Orphan said, pointing at Pienna. “I heard you say that, yes?”

“Where do I buy ears like yours?” Delegado asked.

“Pienna cannot die,” Orphan said, ignoring Delegado’s question.

“No one here wants her to,” Chubat said.

“Only she can hold the town together,” Orphan said. “The mayor vacillates too much, the new Vadalis manager is too unsure of herself, the adept is dead, and neither of you commands much respect. Pienna can rally them, even from a bed, even unconscious. She is the only hope of holding the town together, and therefore the only hope of stopping the slaughter. As much as we want her back in town so that she can live, she needs to live for larger reasons. Only an organized response to this army of warforged will give anyone a chance.”

“We get that,” Delegado said. “Especially if you figure that if Thomas counted fifty then there’s probably another fifty behind them, which brings us to the amount Feather saw. But it doesn’t change the fact that even moving cautiously they’ll catch us carrying Pienna.”

“I’ve calculated the time,” Orphan said. “If one of us can delay the warforged by ten to fifteen minutes, you should be able to get her under cover of the barricades that are being built in town.”

“And that someone is you?” Chubat said. “You think you can kill more of them than me or Thomas or the half-orc here?”

“No,” Orphan explained. “I think if we do they will surround us quickly. We’ll last about three minutes. Not enough time. We’re tired and hurt, they aren’t. And besides, who can go? The men here have to carry the litter, and unless you’re holding your dwarven waraxe, they’ll panic and scatter eventually. You can keep them on the job. Delegado needs to stay by Pienna’s side the whole trip as he explained, and good luck on convincing the panther to leave Pienna. That leaves me and Thomas, and Thomas has the outdoors experience necessary to be a rear guard should a few warforged get bold and advance more quickly. So it leaves me.”

“You can’t fight them,” Delegado said.

“No, but I can talk to them, delay them,” Orphan said. He began removing his weapons, handing them to Chubat. “Would you take these, Sir Dwarf?” Chubat nodded. “Their orders are probably to engage all living beings who defend the town. I can honestly say that I am not from the town nor am I the sort of being they were told to kill. Without direct orders to kill me, hopefully they’ll have to take me to their commanding officer, who will have to make a decision. I can stall.” He removed his monk’s clothing, with all of its hidden pockets and concealed shiruken, handing that to Chubat as well. “Warforged can be very literal, it might work.” As the clothing was removed they could see that Orphan had painted various symbols of lawfulness and goodness on his body.

Deleado could not believe what he was hearing. This golem – this construct, was going to calmly give up his life. “They’re going to kill you!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, but hopefully not until ten to fifteen minutes have passed,” Orphan said.
“You’re doing this for those people back in town?” Delegado said, still incredulous. “The ones who were willing to hand to over to Lo’Paih?”

“I’m doing it because it is the right thing to do,” Orphan explained. “Not because I expect understanding from those panicked by fear, not because I expect a reward, and not even because it is the day of The Ascension.”

“What?” Chubat asked, puzzled.

Delegado barely avoided scowling openly. “Don’t ask,” he grumbled.

If Iron Orphan picked up on Delegado’s hostility to the Thranish holiday, he did not show it. The warforged monk finished giving all of his belongings to the dwarf, who stuffed them in a backpack, save for a ring on one hand. It was a band of copper with ornate runes. The ring was painted in four sections of color, red, brown, blue, and white. He handed the ring to Delegado. “Consider this a gift,” he told the half-orc. “Well, it is a gift. It will help you understand the languages of the elements. I had a fascinating talk with a small being made of water called a mephit when I was in Aundair.”

Delegado took the ring. “Thanks,” he said. Orphan said no more, turning and trotting north. The half-orc watched him go, wondering at how a creature not born could have empathy.

And how he seems to have more of a soul than I do.

“Come on lads,” Chubat was yelling. “Let’s get her up nice and gentle!”

“He kept the belt,” Delegado murmured to himself, watching the monk disappear into the underbrush.