Escape!

I can't win, you tell yourself. Nautilex is too strong, too fast. Too cunning. And even if you could match him in all of those things, the lizardman holds your past hostage. When you look at him now, all you see are your friends and family, butchered by Vanarim's forces, filling you with doubt and fear. Oh Gods, why won't the memories fade away? The sounds of more shouting fill the air, distant at first but coming closer, snapping you out of your turmoil.

The rough patter of boiled leather on stones draws your eyes. You see roughly a score of Elves, bearing down on you and Nautilex. They are wearing protective leather from shoulder to toes, with ash-covered mail worn atop, and deep red cloaks fastened around their necks by a golden disc. For one hopeful second, you believe that you will be saved but once again the lizardman defeats your expectations.

"And sssso my allies have arrived." Nautilex says, looking at their crimson-colored cloaks as they approach, "They thought to dye their capes the color of blood to show their loyalty to Vanarim. How ironic it is that they are kinslayers now."

A surge of defiance wells up inside you, unbidden. You will not be taken prisoner or killed. Not today. You might not be able to defeat him, but you won't let him defeat you either. Your weapons are too far away to be reached but you are determined not to let them take you. There is only one other option, but you have to act while Nautilex is still looking the other way.

Taking the guardrail firmly in hand, you pull yourself up with a last surge of energy and throw yourself off the side of the bridge, plunging towards the cold, night river. Your fall is brief, but in the intermittent time you have a moment of regret. You silently apologize to Tri'lanna and Ceinwyn for failing them. Then the freezing chill of the river hits you like a hammer as you fall below the surface. You're immediately sucked underneath the torrent of water, churning forwards into the blackness of the night.

Nautilex growls, looking out over the bridge in frustration as the stone-bearer is dragged away by the river, vanishing into the night. He will not let him escape. When the Elves approach within speaking distance, he looks to the one that appeared to be the leading, and begins shouting orders.

"You. Elf. Take your men and comb the river. I want the Stone-bearer brought back to me, dead or alive!"

The straight-faced guard blinks at first, unsure if he should reply, but just as quickly saluted Nautilex and says, "Yes sir, we'll search immediately."

"But the White River is monstrously fast!" A voice of one of the mailed Elves chirps, "He might be leagues away by now! And it's reaching the coldest time in the season. We've had grown men wash up from those waters, frozen and dead! No one could possibly survive that!"

The lizardman whirls around and jabs a scaly finger against the chest of the Elf who spoke up, "Which isss EXACTLY why you're going to look for him! I will not take any chances. Men like him refuse to die conveniently. I want his corpse dragged back to me, so I can string him up, cut him into pieces, and mount his head on the top of my war banner for the whole Isle to see!" He turns to face the trembling guard and glares menacingly at him. "And if you do not find him by sunrise, I will decorate my banners with your headsss instead!"

"Do not speak to my men in that manner, lizard."

Nautilex looks to the haughty voice and hisses angrily, "Morianara."

The Elven matron appears, dressed richly in fine silks, dyed red like the guards' cloaks but not so dark. Her hair is left free-flowing but capped by a tiara, studded with small rubies and amethysts. So is flanked by two other elves, most likely her ladies-in-waiting.

"Your master has proclaimed me as Duchess of Elohin, so these soldiers are under my purview. I will send my outriders to find the man..." She says, waving away the other Elves, "...and you can be a good and loyal dog, and follow the orders Vanarim gave you." She tilts her head, feigning innocence, "Or did you forget that you are supposed to siege the Wizard's College?"

Teeth bared, Nautilex rushes forward as if to strike the Elven matron. He moves swiftly, arm lashing forward, but at the last moment, when she confidently held her ground, he stays his hand. The lizardman locks glares with Morianara, considering following through with his blow for a tense moment, but it is he who steps down first. Withdrawing his arm slowly, he turns and spits over the rails of the bridge. "I will do my duty." He says simply.

"Just so, Nautilex."

He remains on the bridge, watching Lady Morianara saunter away, calmly whispering orders to her aides. He wouldn't of even noticed a one-eyed crone standing near her if she hadn't been struck by Morianara, sent sprawling to the ground. As the Matron walked away, leaving the old **** to push herself off the ground and catch up, the lizardman shakes his head. Why would his master appoint such an arrogant person to command? Was he not competent? Was he not enough? "Elf bitch. She'll regret speaking that way." Nautilex mutters, glancing one last time at the river, "There will be no mercy."