Book 11: Chapter 15: The Tail

Faerûn had many combat professions. Some, like hunters, summoners, beast tamers, and others, mostly kept one or two magical beasts with tracking abilities.

These beasts included small creatures like pine martens, good at climbing in forests and mountains, or larger ones like wolves and leopards. The hardest to capture and raise were the hawk-like birds of the air.

However, flying creatures used for tracking had strict size requirements. They couldn’t be too big or too small, like sparrows. Larger birds were hard to train, easily spotted, and not good for long-distance trailing.

Smaller birds were less likely to be seen, but their tiny size attracted predators. Also, small birds flying too high made it difficult for their keeper to communicate. The keeper needed to observe the bird’s flight movements to get information about the target being tracked.

Therefore, the types of birds humans could capture and train into tracking flyers were very limited. Their size couldn’t be too small, their temperament needed to be fierce to fight off airborne predators, they needed basic intelligence, and they had to be trainable to report to their master using flight patterns.

Right now, the high-altitude bird Qin Lun noticed was very small. It looked like a warbler from the northern forests, a type unlikely to be trained into a tracking bird.

“Human trackers really couldn’t manage it,” Qin Lun’s eyes flashed silver briefly before he lowered his head. “That bird in the sky is called a Demon Beak. It’s an eagle native to the northern mountains. Small as a sparrow but gifted with wind element affinity. It can manipulate wind blades with its wings. Even large predators dare not provoke them.”

“They are very clever. They can be trained as trackers and have exceptional vision, seeing their master’s hand signals clearly even high up. The only drawback is that the person controlling it also needs superior eyesight or magical sensing to clearly see the flight patterns they use to convey information.”

“You can identify the specific species from this distance… your Elf vision is amazing! All I see is a tiny black dot,” Rick said, looking at Qin Lun with envy.

“Lago!” After confirming with Qin Lun, Rick didn’t hesitate any longer. A sharp whistle called the bickering pair ahead. “Firal says we have a little tail following us. Go check it out.”

“Mmm!” Lago seemed granted a reprieve and quickly increased his speed. With a few flickers of his movement, he darted far away.

“Firal, forgive my bluntness,” Winnie shot a resentful look at the departing Rogue and lowered her voice. “Do you truly believe those companions lost in the Death Lands still have any chance of being saved?”

“Winnie!” The Knight called out in a deep voice and then fell silent. However, his expression clearly showed he was also concerned about Qin Lun’s opinion on this matter.

Qin Lun frowned slightly. He wasn’t used to explaining everything. But since they were going into the Death Lands, he needed the Thornblood Trio to cooperate earnestly. He reluctantly spoke, “Yes. We wouldn’t do something pointless if there was truly no hope.”

Qin Lun paused, organizing his thoughts. “Old Butler Sif is an ordinary man. His hope of rescue is already very slim. However, our other two companions are different from common adventurers.”

“As a follower of the Cruel Goddess, Idria has high adaptability to most harsh environments. And Iristin’s strength surpasses Idria’s. She’s an Elven Druid who has mastered both hawk and bear forms.”

“A High Rank Druid who has mastered two forms?!” Rick and Winnie were immensely surprised. They began to understand why Firal still held hope for his companions’ rescue.

If an ordinary person went missing in the Death Lands for a month, their bones probably wouldn’t be found. Yet, a High Rank Druid, especially one skilled in both hawk and bear forms, possessed tremendous adaptability to various environments and was incredibly difficult to kill. Even missing for a month, they could be injured and trapped, still having a reasonable survival chance.

The sun gradually sank westward. Rick looked at the sky and decided they wouldn’t travel further that day. They were still on the trade road towards Deepwater City. Riding Blinkdogs, they’d covered distance quickly but had passed the roadside inns closer to Baldur’s Gate.

Despite the Sapient Races prospering in recent times, and some big cities becoming densely populated, Faerûn’s wilderness remained dangerous. Half a day’s journey out of Baldur’s Gate, the sight of inn chimney smoke ceased along the roadside.

However, this was a major trade route frequented by merchant caravans. Near the road embankment, they could see many old campfire circles left behind by previous travelers. Rick expertly guided them to a wind-sheltered slope. At its base, nestled a campsite someone else had used before.

Utilizing an existing campsite was better than finding a new one. The ground was already cleared of rocks and debris, flattened, and bugs or pests were scarce. More importantly, the stone fire ring was pre-built. All they needed was to gather dry firewood nearby and pour on some fire oil.

Before dusk bled the last light into the horizon, they had pitched tents and warmed soup. The Rogue Lago, sent to scout for the “tail,” finally returned.

Near the expanse of the Boundless Sea and influenced by coastal winds, temperatures along the Sword Coast nights stayed fairly mild. Heavily fatigued, Lago sat by the fire, accepting a warm cup of broth. He sipped and let out a long breath.

“Well? Find that little tail?” Rick inquired with concern.

“No, no,” Lago hesitated, “but Firal wasn’t wrong. There was a tail. Maybe more than one.”

“I found traces of one tracker. He was very cautious, and that Demon Beak was a pain! Kept giving me away. Every time I almost had him, the bird figured it out.”

“Just one?” Rick scratched his chin, contemplating.

“No,” Lago frowned. “There’s another one, I think. Felt them. Lurking far back? Used some detection spell maybe, keeping tabs.”

“Qin Lun, looks like our little fodder team has unexpected talents.” Hill chuckled in the Team Channel.

“The better they can do, the better,” Qin Lun replied internally, his face expressionless as he peered into the thickening night shadows. He didn’t feel celebratory.

“Firal, any clue who’s following?” Rick turned to the group. “They must have picked us up in Baldur’s Gate. Any trouble you guys caused there?”

Trouble for sure. Qin Lun thought grimly. Just hard to imagine Umberlee’s Church hired such lackluster killers.

The Umberlee’s Church knew their combat strength. If they moved, it wouldn’t just be one or two trackers. They would hire either an overwhelmingly powerful Legendary Profession fighter or a whole team of assassins.

Neither group would skulk behind them this far out. They wouldn’t worry about causing a stir here, miles from Baldur’s Gate.

“We caused no trouble beyond posting the task,” Firal lied smoothly, though a memory surfaced. He frowned slightly. “But Sif and I were followed immediately after registering at the Mercenary Guild. Perhaps some mercenary scum like the Sandwolf Mercenaries.”

“If they truly are scum among mercenaries,” Rick exchanged a look with Lago, “we won’t hesitate.”

As members of the Thornblood Mercenary Corps who earned their keep through skill, they held nothing but contempt for trash like the Sandwolves. It was a disgrace to the profession.

The camp quieted down as the fire crackled. Sif, just an ordinary human, couldn’t keep up; he was fast asleep inside a tent. Qin Lun and the other two retreated to theirs. With the Thornblood trio here, they didn’t need to take watch.

“Here, Rick.” Lago walked over to the Knight, handing him a waterskin filled not with water, but potent liquor.

“Winnie asleep?” Rick accepted it and took a quick swallow, his voice low.

Out of the three, Winnie the Mage needed deep sleep to regain her spent energy and mental reserves; she didn’t keep watch. Since Lago had already hauled for the afternoon, Rick decided to take the first watch himself.

“She’s out,” Lago replied. Gone was his lighthearted daytime persona. He quietly scanned Qin Lun’s group’s tent, his voice barely a whisper. “You believe that explanation Firal gave?”

“Mostly,” Rick considered for a moment. “Not many holes, far as I can tell. Doesn’t matter anyway. Took the gold, need to deliver the job.”

“Not worried about that. The story about looking for buddies out in the Death Lands – could buy it. But that silver-haired Elf? Won’t say his name. That kinda bothers me. What if that tail back there… is actually chasing him personally?”

“So?” Rick replied evenly, swishing the skin before handing it back. “Everyone stepping out here’s got secrets. Actually… Firal’s identity? Think I have an idea. But like he said, none of our business. Didn’t wanna bother you guys with it.”

“Oh? Know what he is?” Lago asked with an easy smile. He didn’t look surprised at all.

The members of the Thornblood Mercenary Corps each had their own pasts. Their fighting styles meshed well, and their personalities were distinct. Lago had keen intuition and usually spotted dangers first on an assignment. Winnie possessed a natural talent for magic, already a 4th circle Mage, the primary offense; she said things plainly. Rick, the oldest, led not just as the Leader but often like an elder brother.

He hailed from nobility – ancestors among famed Shaar imperial families. Rick received excellent instruction from childhood. Despite his rugged appearance, he possessed impressive knowledge uncommon for his age. Steady as a rock, he was the Soul anchor for their little band.

“You notice?” Rick glanced at the other tent, a ghost of understanding tracing his lips. “Firal, since we met, hasn’t used his full name.”

“Point of pride for Elves: meeting important folk? Give the full name, mention the house lineage. Signals rank properly. He didn’t. Only two reasons make sense.”

“Reason one: Firal’s some wicked Elf banished from the Elven Court. Doesn’t dare tell. Or…,” Rick nudged Lago playfully, eyes glittering with challenge by the fire’s glow, “…his identity is too fragile, thinks it’ll cause us nothing but trouble.”

“Which one do you lean towards?”