Ithilian hissed unintelligible curses of his own when Amalia was pulled back from the window, guards in Prosper's quarters leaving him trapped out on the ledge. His initial instinct was to try and get right back through the window, kill them all, and free his lethallan, but he had enough control over himself to know that was impossible. He was at a severe disadvantage from his position, and the guards had given away that they needed her alive for some reason. It was either go back and die, or escape, as Amalia requested, and regroup with the others. Gritting his teeth, he turned away.
He heard the sounds of struggle lessen in the room as he neared a corner, looking back in time to see a bow-armed guard lean out the window, drawing back an arrow. With nowhere to dodge, Ithilian prepared to try and duck, though he would likely spill over the edge. When the arrow came, however, the guard received a kick to the center of his back, Amalia's foot appearing briefly out the window. The arrow whistled by his chest, the guard nearly toppling out of the window entirely.
Seizing the advantage, Ithilian took swift sideways steps and shuffled around the corner. All sounds of struggle ceased, leaving him with nothing but the light wind, though the shouts of guards would not be long in coming, if they truly intended on killing him. The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall around him. Continuing on, Ithilian found himself within jumping distance of the castle parapets. Without any space behind him, however, he would need to perform a standing jump, and the fall was a solid three stories, easily enough to break his legs. Taking two quick breaths, he crouched his legs down as well as he could, and leaped.
He flailed through the air for a brief moment, his feet catching on the inner stone of the wall, tipping him over and causing him to land hard on his right shoulder. Groaning, he pushed to his feet, staying low in a defensive crouch, and examining his surroundings.
The parapets at the back of the castle were mostly empty, which made sense since it was backed up right against a cliff face, and so the defensive walls themselves were more for completeness than out of particular necessity. That said, they would likely be much more heavily-manned the closer Ithilian got to the front gate of the castle, which was where the others had exited from when they began the hunt. Curiously, no alarm seemed to be going up, but perhaps there had not yet been enough time for the guards in the room to alert the others to his escape.
The parapets themselves were unremarkable, built solid and serviceable from the same grey stone as the surrounding mountains. At regular intervals, guard posts were placed, each with a ladder that led down to ground level. The nearest one was some five hundred yards down the east wall, given that Ithilian himself stood just on the south side of the southeast corner.
If Ithilian had thought the jump to the ground was safe enough to avoid injury, he might have taken it, but the walls were still too high. The ground would possibly offer more cover, more places to hide, but he couldn't get there just yet. For that, he'd have to find a way down. He could see a guard post to the east, the cover unfortunately sparse between him and it, making his chances of remaining unseen low. Pulling his bow from its sheath on his back, he nocked an arrow and began moving forward. He still hoped to avoid killing anyone, but at this point, he would gladly do it if it meant avoiding capture. Ultimately, the lives of these guards meant nothing to him. Amalia's meant a great deal, and he had no wish to see any of the others die, either.
Ithilian made it about halfway between his position and his destination before he was spotted walking along the wall. A head poked out from a gap in the watchtower, a guard peering down at the armed elf in some mix of confusion, wariness, and consternation. “Oi. What’re you doing up ‘ere, elf? Servants aren’t allowed on the wall.” The guard couldn’t have been older than Lia, from the looks of him, and he sounded a bit uncertain of himself, like he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. “Who’re you with, anyway?”
Ithilian honestly hadn't expected only some of the guards to have gotten the message, so to speak. This one seemed to have no idea what had occurred elsewhere. Even still, it took a remarkable amount of Ithilian's self control not to just draw the arrow back and shoot the kid. It would be simpler if no guard who saw him from this point lived. And he didn't have any immediate ideas for how to explain the fact that he'd already drawn his weapon.
"Saw a wolf inside the walls," he came up with eventually, unsure how believable it sounded. "Thought to put the beast down, wanted a vantage point." He ignored the guard's other question. Ithilian knew none of the other lords here, and he didn't intend to hand out Lucien's name, and link his activities to him, on the off chance that they didn't already put those pieces of information together.
Taking the arrow from the bow, he twirled it once in his hand, but didn't return it to his quiver. He took a passing glance over the grounds below, checking for other guards, but no doubt appearing to look for his phantom wolf. He then began walking towards the watchtower. "Afraid I've lost it now, though. And gotten myself lost. Could you point me back to the guest quarters?"
The guard regarded Ithilian skeptically for a moment, tilting his head to the side, but then he seemed to realize something, and then sighed. “Probably got in after the hunters left. Well… all right then. You can use the ladder here, by the tower. I’ll… well, I won’t report this or anything, just… stay off o’ the walls, okay? Not everyone around here likes elves very much, especially not the armed ones. They’d think you were a Dalish raider, or something.” The guard pointed down and slightly to the side, where indeed a ladder was leaned against the inside of the wall.
“And you should report that wolf to the kennelmaster. Lots o’ the dogs are out for the hunt, but there’s still a good dozen what can track a wolf. Guest quarters are down, through the gardens, and to the left once you get inside.” He nodded once, as if that solved the matter, and disappeared from the gap in the tower, presumably to resume his watch.
Ithilian was grateful he didn't need to say anything else. The guard seemed hardly interested in him once he'd declared himself not to be a threat. He was lucky to have run into a younger member of their watch, and not a veteran, who likely would have seen straight through that. Ithilian wasn't a practiced liar, after all. Now deciding to return the arrow to his quiver, Ithilian did so for the bow as well, securing it on his back. His walk to the ladder the guard suggested was swift, especially now that no one was watching again. Taking another precautionary glance around him, he clambered onto the ladder and quickly made his way down.
In case the guard was watching from above, which Ithilian could not see, he made his way back towards the gardens, skirting around the outsides. Now that he didn't have the two nobles of his party to lead the way, he imagined he was a good deal more eye catching, the armed elf wandering on his own. The snow was beginning to fall however, lightly but steadily, and it had driven many of the guests indoors, including Marcus, Ithilian noted, though when exactly the magister left the gardens, he didn't know.
Rather than go inside himself, he passed around the main structure of the castle, making his way towards the front gate. On the way, he passed the stables, where they had left their horses, and he noted a few of the guards making their way there, not at speed, but moving with a purpose all the same. Best to get out before they mounted up. Walking swiftly, he strode through the gatehouse, a pair of guards lazily standing watch over the portcullis. One took note of him.
"Going somewhere, elf? Bit late for the hunt." Despite his inquiry into where Ithilian was going, he made no move to push off of the wall he currently leaned up against.
"Noted," he answered, not slowing down. "Still heading out."
"Weather's moving in. You wanna freeze your balls off, go right ahead." Ithilian ignored him, getting outside of the castle at last, and into the wilderness. The trail of the hunters was not difficult to follow, and he'd seen from the room the direction Lucien's party had set off in. He hoped they had not gotten too far. This snow was going to cover their tracks soon enough.
The trail was, for the moment, relatively easy to follow. The hunting party had evidently made no move to cover their tracks, though there was a bit of difficulty picking out which ones belonged to them, at first. Only one group had the right number of horses, though.
The problems intensified about fifteen minutes into his trek, when the snow started to come down more thickly. It would soon coat the ground, obscuring the tracks left by Lucien’s group. What was worse, though, was the distant sound of baying mabari hounds, accompanied by the shouts of men, all issuing from behind Ithilian.
The moment he heard the barks, the shouts of men from behind him, Ithilian knew there would be blood. He could not outrun dogs, much less horses, and the weather was only growing worse. The situation brought back flashes of himself as a young adult; the Brecilian forest coated in frost of the first month of winter, his brothers and sisters gathered around him, invisible to the eye but ever present on the mind. The sounds of dogs and men, angered enough to venture from their village to try and drive off the elven bandits. There were no brothers and sisters for Ithilian now, but he could channel some of the old hatreds, and the tactics he used to employ.
There was no way to hide his tracks, not with the snow beginning to cover the ground more fully, and the dogs would find him anyway. Moving swiftly, he found a cluster of tightly packed trees, pulling himself up into the nearest one's branches, ascending with remarkable speed. Halfway up he looked to the next closest tree, making a calm, calculated jump, landing lightly on the widest, sturdiest branch he could see. He grasped the trunk to steady himself, then continued to climb. Another branch, another jump to another tree.
The hunting party arrived, composed of four mabari hounds and their four mounted handlers, armed in guardsman's light plate and leather. They slowed when the dogs did, glancing around as the hounds sniffed at the ground. They followed the trail Ithilian had left behind, right up until it stopped.
"He's climbed this tree!" one of them declared, and they formed up a circle around it, crossbows and spears pointed up. The hounds barked and bounced around, eager for something to sink their teeth into. Long seconds passed, the huntsmen searching carefully through the thick branches of the tree for any sign of an elf. Even the dogs grew quiet, and the only sounds were the wind, the heavy breathing of the horses, the panting of the dogs, the creaking and squeaking of leather and plate. The clink of a bone blade being struck across an arrowhead.
A flaming arrow came from above and behind the hunting party, striking one of the horses in the base of its neck, the flames immediately leaping to ignite the beast like only enchanted fire could. The entire mane went up in flames, and the beast screamed, rearing back harshly and tipping over, crushing the left leg of the spearman riding it. The other horses nickered in sudden fear, their riders struggling to maintain control over them.
"Behind us! The other tree, that one there!" one of them called, turning and pointing to a rustling of branches, disturbed snow falling to the ground. A pair of crossbow bolts shot into the foliage, hitting nothing. The dogs ran over to investigate. One received an arrow straight through the top of the head before it reached its destination, tipping end over end and rolling to a stop on its side. A second one soon followed, this one stopping still for a moment too long. "Force him down!" the leader called, no instructions following as to how that was to be done.
The riders moved closer to the site of the slain dogs, galloping right past Ithilian's newest hiding spot, believing him to be in the tree he'd just departed. A third mabari was barking, looking up directly at him. It was unable to do anything about the arrow that pierced straight through its eye, apart from whimper as it fell. That tipped off the huntsmen, at last able to follow the path of the arrow to the elf's location, but he was already in flight, this time coming straight down on top of them.
He landed on the back of a crossbowman's horse, immediately sinking his blade down through the top of the man's armor, into his back. He reached back to try and shoot him with the loaded crossbow, but Ithilian wrenched it from his grip, abandonding his hold on his sword and leaving it embedded in the man's back. The other crossbowman took aim, hesitating at first, but taking the shot, only hitting his own man in the throat. Ithilian fired the crossbow back at him, the bolt punching straight through the light plate of his chest and knocking him from his horse. The elf dropped the crossbow, yanking the sword from the back of the man he'd ambushed, and shoving him from the saddle.
With a roar, the last huntsman charged, spear leveled down, and Ithilian rode to meet him. His intention was fairly clear, the way the spear was not angled high, but low instead. Placing his feet up on the saddle before they clashed, Ithilian jumped forward, just as the spearman took down the horse Ithilian rode. The creature went down, but Ithilian was already airborne, slamming the spearman from the saddle and punching his blade into the base of his neck. His fall was cushioned by the man's body, his struggle ending quickly.
Just before he could pull the blade free, the last thing able to fight attacked him, the remaining hound. He got his arm between the mabari's jaws and his throat, the teeth clamping painfully down on his forearm. Gritting his teeth against the thrashing, Ithilian pulled Parshaara from its sheath and stabbed it into the side of the dog's neck, setting it on fire and causing it to yelp loudly, rolling off of him. Ripping the knife free, Ithilian lunged over and stabbed it several more times, until it was done.
Adrenaline pumping through him, he pulled the knife free, sheathed, and pulled his sword from the spearman's throat as well. The first man was still moaning under his horse, his leg crushed and pinning him in place. He'd dropped his spear just out of reach. He eyed Ithilian with terror as he approached, dripping blood from his arm, and more from the end of his blade.
"Wait, elf, wait, p-please!" he begged, tears forming in his eyes from the pain. "I can tell you where your friend is. Worth my life, at least. Just spare m-me, and I'll tell you." Ithilian came nearly within striking distance of him before stopping, his face set into a hard glare.
"Out with it, then."
“F-first floor of the castle… there’s a p-passage, in the back, near the kitchens. Ends in a trapdoor. She’s… she’s underground, in the catacombs. M-Marcus wanted her where nobody else would stumble on her by mistake.”
"Thank you," the words were coldly delivered, and the downed man seemed to know what the tone meant as soon as he heard them. His scream was cut off when a brutal kick to the face knocked him senseless. Reaching down, Ithilian grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head mostly upright, and quickly shoved the end of his blade up under the chin, deep enough to end him quickly. Pulling the sword free, he dropped the body, and turned to go.
Picking up the trail again, he moved with speed, downing one of the healing potions Amalia had given him to lessen the damage to the arm the mabari had gnawed on. Luckily, he did not have to travel far, as the group he sought were on their way back, the same way they had left by. One of their horses had a nearly foot long claw strapped to the saddle, a sure indication that they'd run into the wyvern they sought.
He waved tiredly at them, sheathing his sword. "Seems you were luckier than I was."
He heard the sounds of struggle lessen in the room as he neared a corner, looking back in time to see a bow-armed guard lean out the window, drawing back an arrow. With nowhere to dodge, Ithilian prepared to try and duck, though he would likely spill over the edge. When the arrow came, however, the guard received a kick to the center of his back, Amalia's foot appearing briefly out the window. The arrow whistled by his chest, the guard nearly toppling out of the window entirely.
Seizing the advantage, Ithilian took swift sideways steps and shuffled around the corner. All sounds of struggle ceased, leaving him with nothing but the light wind, though the shouts of guards would not be long in coming, if they truly intended on killing him. The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall around him. Continuing on, Ithilian found himself within jumping distance of the castle parapets. Without any space behind him, however, he would need to perform a standing jump, and the fall was a solid three stories, easily enough to break his legs. Taking two quick breaths, he crouched his legs down as well as he could, and leaped.
He flailed through the air for a brief moment, his feet catching on the inner stone of the wall, tipping him over and causing him to land hard on his right shoulder. Groaning, he pushed to his feet, staying low in a defensive crouch, and examining his surroundings.
The parapets at the back of the castle were mostly empty, which made sense since it was backed up right against a cliff face, and so the defensive walls themselves were more for completeness than out of particular necessity. That said, they would likely be much more heavily-manned the closer Ithilian got to the front gate of the castle, which was where the others had exited from when they began the hunt. Curiously, no alarm seemed to be going up, but perhaps there had not yet been enough time for the guards in the room to alert the others to his escape.
The parapets themselves were unremarkable, built solid and serviceable from the same grey stone as the surrounding mountains. At regular intervals, guard posts were placed, each with a ladder that led down to ground level. The nearest one was some five hundred yards down the east wall, given that Ithilian himself stood just on the south side of the southeast corner.
If Ithilian had thought the jump to the ground was safe enough to avoid injury, he might have taken it, but the walls were still too high. The ground would possibly offer more cover, more places to hide, but he couldn't get there just yet. For that, he'd have to find a way down. He could see a guard post to the east, the cover unfortunately sparse between him and it, making his chances of remaining unseen low. Pulling his bow from its sheath on his back, he nocked an arrow and began moving forward. He still hoped to avoid killing anyone, but at this point, he would gladly do it if it meant avoiding capture. Ultimately, the lives of these guards meant nothing to him. Amalia's meant a great deal, and he had no wish to see any of the others die, either.
Ithilian made it about halfway between his position and his destination before he was spotted walking along the wall. A head poked out from a gap in the watchtower, a guard peering down at the armed elf in some mix of confusion, wariness, and consternation. “Oi. What’re you doing up ‘ere, elf? Servants aren’t allowed on the wall.” The guard couldn’t have been older than Lia, from the looks of him, and he sounded a bit uncertain of himself, like he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. “Who’re you with, anyway?”
Ithilian honestly hadn't expected only some of the guards to have gotten the message, so to speak. This one seemed to have no idea what had occurred elsewhere. Even still, it took a remarkable amount of Ithilian's self control not to just draw the arrow back and shoot the kid. It would be simpler if no guard who saw him from this point lived. And he didn't have any immediate ideas for how to explain the fact that he'd already drawn his weapon.
"Saw a wolf inside the walls," he came up with eventually, unsure how believable it sounded. "Thought to put the beast down, wanted a vantage point." He ignored the guard's other question. Ithilian knew none of the other lords here, and he didn't intend to hand out Lucien's name, and link his activities to him, on the off chance that they didn't already put those pieces of information together.
Taking the arrow from the bow, he twirled it once in his hand, but didn't return it to his quiver. He took a passing glance over the grounds below, checking for other guards, but no doubt appearing to look for his phantom wolf. He then began walking towards the watchtower. "Afraid I've lost it now, though. And gotten myself lost. Could you point me back to the guest quarters?"
The guard regarded Ithilian skeptically for a moment, tilting his head to the side, but then he seemed to realize something, and then sighed. “Probably got in after the hunters left. Well… all right then. You can use the ladder here, by the tower. I’ll… well, I won’t report this or anything, just… stay off o’ the walls, okay? Not everyone around here likes elves very much, especially not the armed ones. They’d think you were a Dalish raider, or something.” The guard pointed down and slightly to the side, where indeed a ladder was leaned against the inside of the wall.
“And you should report that wolf to the kennelmaster. Lots o’ the dogs are out for the hunt, but there’s still a good dozen what can track a wolf. Guest quarters are down, through the gardens, and to the left once you get inside.” He nodded once, as if that solved the matter, and disappeared from the gap in the tower, presumably to resume his watch.
Ithilian was grateful he didn't need to say anything else. The guard seemed hardly interested in him once he'd declared himself not to be a threat. He was lucky to have run into a younger member of their watch, and not a veteran, who likely would have seen straight through that. Ithilian wasn't a practiced liar, after all. Now deciding to return the arrow to his quiver, Ithilian did so for the bow as well, securing it on his back. His walk to the ladder the guard suggested was swift, especially now that no one was watching again. Taking another precautionary glance around him, he clambered onto the ladder and quickly made his way down.
In case the guard was watching from above, which Ithilian could not see, he made his way back towards the gardens, skirting around the outsides. Now that he didn't have the two nobles of his party to lead the way, he imagined he was a good deal more eye catching, the armed elf wandering on his own. The snow was beginning to fall however, lightly but steadily, and it had driven many of the guests indoors, including Marcus, Ithilian noted, though when exactly the magister left the gardens, he didn't know.
Rather than go inside himself, he passed around the main structure of the castle, making his way towards the front gate. On the way, he passed the stables, where they had left their horses, and he noted a few of the guards making their way there, not at speed, but moving with a purpose all the same. Best to get out before they mounted up. Walking swiftly, he strode through the gatehouse, a pair of guards lazily standing watch over the portcullis. One took note of him.
"Going somewhere, elf? Bit late for the hunt." Despite his inquiry into where Ithilian was going, he made no move to push off of the wall he currently leaned up against.
"Noted," he answered, not slowing down. "Still heading out."
"Weather's moving in. You wanna freeze your balls off, go right ahead." Ithilian ignored him, getting outside of the castle at last, and into the wilderness. The trail of the hunters was not difficult to follow, and he'd seen from the room the direction Lucien's party had set off in. He hoped they had not gotten too far. This snow was going to cover their tracks soon enough.
The trail was, for the moment, relatively easy to follow. The hunting party had evidently made no move to cover their tracks, though there was a bit of difficulty picking out which ones belonged to them, at first. Only one group had the right number of horses, though.
The problems intensified about fifteen minutes into his trek, when the snow started to come down more thickly. It would soon coat the ground, obscuring the tracks left by Lucien’s group. What was worse, though, was the distant sound of baying mabari hounds, accompanied by the shouts of men, all issuing from behind Ithilian.
The moment he heard the barks, the shouts of men from behind him, Ithilian knew there would be blood. He could not outrun dogs, much less horses, and the weather was only growing worse. The situation brought back flashes of himself as a young adult; the Brecilian forest coated in frost of the first month of winter, his brothers and sisters gathered around him, invisible to the eye but ever present on the mind. The sounds of dogs and men, angered enough to venture from their village to try and drive off the elven bandits. There were no brothers and sisters for Ithilian now, but he could channel some of the old hatreds, and the tactics he used to employ.
There was no way to hide his tracks, not with the snow beginning to cover the ground more fully, and the dogs would find him anyway. Moving swiftly, he found a cluster of tightly packed trees, pulling himself up into the nearest one's branches, ascending with remarkable speed. Halfway up he looked to the next closest tree, making a calm, calculated jump, landing lightly on the widest, sturdiest branch he could see. He grasped the trunk to steady himself, then continued to climb. Another branch, another jump to another tree.
The hunting party arrived, composed of four mabari hounds and their four mounted handlers, armed in guardsman's light plate and leather. They slowed when the dogs did, glancing around as the hounds sniffed at the ground. They followed the trail Ithilian had left behind, right up until it stopped.
"He's climbed this tree!" one of them declared, and they formed up a circle around it, crossbows and spears pointed up. The hounds barked and bounced around, eager for something to sink their teeth into. Long seconds passed, the huntsmen searching carefully through the thick branches of the tree for any sign of an elf. Even the dogs grew quiet, and the only sounds were the wind, the heavy breathing of the horses, the panting of the dogs, the creaking and squeaking of leather and plate. The clink of a bone blade being struck across an arrowhead.
A flaming arrow came from above and behind the hunting party, striking one of the horses in the base of its neck, the flames immediately leaping to ignite the beast like only enchanted fire could. The entire mane went up in flames, and the beast screamed, rearing back harshly and tipping over, crushing the left leg of the spearman riding it. The other horses nickered in sudden fear, their riders struggling to maintain control over them.
"Behind us! The other tree, that one there!" one of them called, turning and pointing to a rustling of branches, disturbed snow falling to the ground. A pair of crossbow bolts shot into the foliage, hitting nothing. The dogs ran over to investigate. One received an arrow straight through the top of the head before it reached its destination, tipping end over end and rolling to a stop on its side. A second one soon followed, this one stopping still for a moment too long. "Force him down!" the leader called, no instructions following as to how that was to be done.
The riders moved closer to the site of the slain dogs, galloping right past Ithilian's newest hiding spot, believing him to be in the tree he'd just departed. A third mabari was barking, looking up directly at him. It was unable to do anything about the arrow that pierced straight through its eye, apart from whimper as it fell. That tipped off the huntsmen, at last able to follow the path of the arrow to the elf's location, but he was already in flight, this time coming straight down on top of them.
He landed on the back of a crossbowman's horse, immediately sinking his blade down through the top of the man's armor, into his back. He reached back to try and shoot him with the loaded crossbow, but Ithilian wrenched it from his grip, abandonding his hold on his sword and leaving it embedded in the man's back. The other crossbowman took aim, hesitating at first, but taking the shot, only hitting his own man in the throat. Ithilian fired the crossbow back at him, the bolt punching straight through the light plate of his chest and knocking him from his horse. The elf dropped the crossbow, yanking the sword from the back of the man he'd ambushed, and shoving him from the saddle.
With a roar, the last huntsman charged, spear leveled down, and Ithilian rode to meet him. His intention was fairly clear, the way the spear was not angled high, but low instead. Placing his feet up on the saddle before they clashed, Ithilian jumped forward, just as the spearman took down the horse Ithilian rode. The creature went down, but Ithilian was already airborne, slamming the spearman from the saddle and punching his blade into the base of his neck. His fall was cushioned by the man's body, his struggle ending quickly.
Just before he could pull the blade free, the last thing able to fight attacked him, the remaining hound. He got his arm between the mabari's jaws and his throat, the teeth clamping painfully down on his forearm. Gritting his teeth against the thrashing, Ithilian pulled Parshaara from its sheath and stabbed it into the side of the dog's neck, setting it on fire and causing it to yelp loudly, rolling off of him. Ripping the knife free, Ithilian lunged over and stabbed it several more times, until it was done.
Adrenaline pumping through him, he pulled the knife free, sheathed, and pulled his sword from the spearman's throat as well. The first man was still moaning under his horse, his leg crushed and pinning him in place. He'd dropped his spear just out of reach. He eyed Ithilian with terror as he approached, dripping blood from his arm, and more from the end of his blade.
"Wait, elf, wait, p-please!" he begged, tears forming in his eyes from the pain. "I can tell you where your friend is. Worth my life, at least. Just spare m-me, and I'll tell you." Ithilian came nearly within striking distance of him before stopping, his face set into a hard glare.
"Out with it, then."
“F-first floor of the castle… there’s a p-passage, in the back, near the kitchens. Ends in a trapdoor. She’s… she’s underground, in the catacombs. M-Marcus wanted her where nobody else would stumble on her by mistake.”
"Thank you," the words were coldly delivered, and the downed man seemed to know what the tone meant as soon as he heard them. His scream was cut off when a brutal kick to the face knocked him senseless. Reaching down, Ithilian grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head mostly upright, and quickly shoved the end of his blade up under the chin, deep enough to end him quickly. Pulling the sword free, he dropped the body, and turned to go.
Picking up the trail again, he moved with speed, downing one of the healing potions Amalia had given him to lessen the damage to the arm the mabari had gnawed on. Luckily, he did not have to travel far, as the group he sought were on their way back, the same way they had left by. One of their horses had a nearly foot long claw strapped to the saddle, a sure indication that they'd run into the wyvern they sought.
He waved tiredly at them, sheathing his sword. "Seems you were luckier than I was."