Rise of the Blade

Chapter Fifteen

Sunlight was a welcome sight to many, but not to Ilya Bogdanovic on this morning. He hadn't slept much during the night. He had been sent, sword in hand, to the nearest temple of Metrequia for a healer to tend to Dobrynya's leg. He had returned with a bald priestess in tow, a short skinny woman named Helene, whom he realized was the same woman he had seen at the cemetery. She had inspected the wound, chided the Bogatyrs on not using blunted swords during their practice sessions, prayed for two healing spells from her goddess, and held out her hand for a donation.

Marque Draque had paid the woman, scowling and commenting on the fact that such a service wasn't free.

"You want free?" Helene had asked. "Wrap it with bandages next time, or better yet stopped using edged swords during your lessons."

"We don't," Ilya had answered. "This was... a different matter."

She had frowned at this. "Then don't complain when you need a healer in the middle of the night and I am the only one on duty. Besides, it is a donation... technically."

After she priestess left Marque Draque and Ilya found a room in the basement where they could keep the woman, Nicoleta Nikolaisdotter Makarov, safe from harm. They had no doubt that Chev would be back to try and kill her. Nicoleta was all too pleased with her new prison cell which was a good size, although a bit cold and damp. The dark elf stripped her of anything that could be used for casting spells, her spellbook which consisted of surprisingly few spells, and her possessions. Elena brought her two blankets so she didn't freeze to death in the cold cellar.

When asked about Chev however her nerves were fraught and she tended to ramble too much. What they did manage to gather however was that he was indeed a bodyguard of sorts, although by her description he was also part assassin, or had been, one hundred and fifty-three years ago. He had turned on the family due to some perceived betrayal which Nicoleta was unable to explain without rambling on about the Merchants Guild and Xarsians. Something complicated had happened and none of them had enough patience to listen to her rambling.

"She's a vagabond," Marque Draque had concluded after reading through part of her spellbook which included journal entries by Nicoleta. "She's homeless. I suspect she was sometimes living here in the building when everyone else thought it was abandoned."

"And the alarm sounded when she returned?" Elena had asked.

"Yes. The alarm doesn't sound if someone is added to the list of names, or if one of those people brings in a guest."

"I was wondering about that," Ilya had muttered. "Every time I let a new student in through the gate I keep expecting the alarm to go off."

The presence of the homeless wizard in their basement, and the powerful warrior stalking the streets beyond the estate, bothered Ilya. He was reminded of fighting a dragon not so long ago and waiting for the dragon to attack the town in which he had defending. The waiting around for the dragon to attack had been intolerable, but at least they could see the dragon coming. Could hear the townsfolk screaming as it approached.

With Chev he was just one man. One man could come and go unseen, unnoticed. A single warrior in a city of people.

With luck the warrior would run afoul some Xarsians and they would crowd around him, shoot him with crossbow bolts, and finish him off. But Ilya doubted this was a real possibility. Chev was too good of a warrior, wounded perhaps, but he wouldn't be defeated so easily. Dobrynya had, not so long ago, single-handedly defeated a group of thirteen Xarsians in the dry docks, and Ilya suspected that if it had been twenty the old Bogatyr still would have won easily.

Chev who equaled Dobrynya in skill, and surpassed him in reach, strength and youth, could certainly do the same. Possibly without even breaking a sweat.