Chapter 2: The Cover of Dusk

Jeaden lead a fairly swift pace through the night, and the small, improbable band made good time up the mountain. Jarlaxle looked back to Entreri, who had not slept at all. It was not the fact that he didn’t need to sleep, but that his head continued to throb. On top of that, he was shaking harder than before, and his vision had blurred from the fever. The mercenary chewed his lip again, doubtful.

“How much longer do you think it will take to get to your Aunt, little one?” He asked Jeaden, more to take his mind from Entreri’s doleful state than for need of an answer.

The boy pondered for a moment, and then; “Only ‘bout an hour, I think. But I never rode all night before, so we could be closer!” Jarlaxle noted the excitement creeping back into the child’s voice, and wondered again about where he got his energy. He had thought the boy to be tiring earlier that morning, for he was mercifully silent for a few hours. I suppose I was wrong... Thought the drow. He realized that Jeaden was still very much awake, and still very talkative.

But, as the boy had said, they did seem much closer. Jarlaxle had started to recognize landmarks around them, particularly a certain copse of trees. Dusk liked to hide there and jump on him during the rare occasions he got to visit. But she was apparently not there now... it would have been better if she had been there to jump on him, like most other times. She could heal Entreri then and there, if the mercenary asked her. Looking back at the man once again, he knew that such a healing would be needed very soon.

And, in his contemplation of how long the man had left, Jarlaxle didn’t notice Jeaden. The boy was now looking around warily, cocking his head to the side and sniffing at the air.

Jarlaxle’s horse stopped, and pawed at the ground. He snapped up his head at that, and heard a slight ruffle from the trees. That sound, that slight ruffle, he suspected, was not from the wind. And the mercenary’s suspicions were confirmed soon after.

Entreri could hardly see anymore and had begun to shake so much that he could not sit aright atop his horse. Along with this, he was so much dizzier, absolutely exhausted and had not eaten anything at all in two days. The pain in his head finally shoved him into blackness, and he let it take him. The assassin fell from his horse.

With the last of his coherence, he rolled away from the horse with the fall, managing not to break his neck. At least a dozen arrows thudded into the ground where Entreri had originally fallen, fired from about that number of different places.

Jarlaxle snapped his head around and mouthed a silent curse.

“Get away from here boy! Go get you Aunt, go NOW!” Jarlaxle screamed to Jeaden while leaping off his mount, listening to the fast running hoof beats of the boy’s pony. He snapped out a sword from his belt, dodging and knocking aside the arrows that flew his way with a deadly accuracy. He looked to the trees, to discern the identity of the attackers, and cursed in every language he had time to before the next wave of arrows came at him.

How he wished he still had his hand crossbow! His attackers were, as he had feared, a band of elves. Apparently, the missing elven child had not gone unnoticed. And of course, since he was a dark elf wandering about with the missing child, the surface elves that now fired at him mercilessly had it in their minds that Jarlaxle had kidnapped the boy.

Some of the elves had started jumping down from the trees. Three of them began to circle Jarlaxle, each with a beautifully made sword in hand. The drow didn’t want to have to kill them, but the elves pressed him to action. They slashed at him, trying to get him to react. Surface elves wouldn’t kill a being, even a drow elf, if he had not made the first attack.

“Now listen to me! I know what you’re all thinking, but the child Jeaden came on his own accord! I tried to send him home, but he insisted that he guide my companion and I...” He pointedly looked where Entreri was not, and tried to lend the man a bit of safety. “…To a friend of mine who lives on this very mountain. Now, we have not knowingly caused any harm to you or any of your people. Why, do you not know of Drizzt Do’Urden? How could you possibly mistake....” Jarlaxle tried to reason, but was cut off by another arrow. It shot off his huge hat.

Though the surface elves didn’t know it, they had just made a dire mistake.

Jarlaxle, very angry at the treatment of his hat, leapt into the air. He spun over one very surprised elf’s head and enacted his levitation spell. The drow started firing daggers at the knees of the three elves that had tried to surround him, and at the three standing back a ways. Two of them clutched at their knees, and hobbled off. One other hit in the shoulder tried to aim his bow with his still functioning arm. It failed, even more miserably when Jarlaxle threw a dagger into his other shoulder.

Jarlaxle felt his levitation start to let go, and dropped himself into a roll. He looked one last time to where Entreri had been and saw, as he had thought, that the assassin was nowhere to be found. With that, he ran with all speed up the hill, the remaining surface elves still firing at him.

* * * * * * * *

Jeaden came to the top of the hill. He ran his mount at full speed through the thick copse of trees and through a curtain of vines from a nearby willow. Seeing the large house looming only a few yards before him, he stopped the horse and leapt off towards the house.

He burst in the door, not bothering to knock, yelling; “Auntie! Auntie Dusky where are ya?” He ran around the house a moment, and getting no answer, he ran out the back door. Still running, he went down through the yard behind the house. There was a lake there, he knew, and if Dusk was ever not in the house, she was in the lake. He kneeled down by the lake’s side. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, seemingly to the lake itself.

“Dusky, come quick! Auntie, hurry, we need you fast!” A moment later, Jeaden snapped his head to the side upon hearing a voice.

There was his aunt, elbows up on the bank of the lake, only a few feet away from him. Her long, long curly red hair stuck to her pale skin and swirled around her in the water. A warm smile made its way onto her lovely full lips. The woman’s green eyes smiled at the boy, as well.

“Hello little one! I hadn’t expected to see you until next week... though, what has gone so horribly wrong that it sent you yelling all the way down here?” She asked, noting the troubled look on his face.

“Well I brought you some friends and I’ll tell ya all bout it later, but now they’re in trouble ‘an all the elves came ‘an now they’re shootin’ at them ‘an Mister Jarlaxle tol’ me to ride up here to get you ‘an...” Jeaden said, almost too fast to comprehend for one who was not used to the boy’s babble.

“Mister who??? Did you just say Jarlaxle, child?” The woman asked, surprised, her eyes wide and shining an impossible shade of green. Seeing Jeaden’s nod, she told the boy; “Meet me out on the front landing, and move not a step until I bid you!”

The boy ran back up to the house. Dusk waited for him disappear around the other side of the house (for she was quite bereft of any clothing), then put her hands on top of the water. She closed her eyes and levitated back up to her balcony and, once on the solid wood, ran into her room. She threw on her ring, some pants and a curious leather top, which tied at her back and revealed a good portion of her muscled stomach.

Dusk grabbed her belt and dagger off the floor, strapped that on, and moved to her dresser. Out of a drawer she took out two leather wristbands, shoved one on each wrist and spoke a command word to them... revealing the wrist-mounted crossbows. She opened another drawer, and pulled out two arrows. The arrows were tipped with a potion that made its victims seem hopelessly drunk, and made it impossible for them to do anything but giggle. The woman clicked one arrow into each bow, and began to chant to them. With this chant, she could fire all the arrows she needed, never running out and never having to reload.

As she ran towards the door, Dusk grabbed her boots, levitated again, and pulled them on as she floated down the stairs. Coming to the bottom, she released her spell and ran out the door. Jeaden had waited there as she had instructed, pointing to a dark, bald figure running through the vine curtain. Easily recognizing him, though she had not seen him in decades, she called out to Jarlaxle.

“What have you done with your lovely hat, old friend?” She yelled, and ran to him. “And with whoever you had with you? The boy said that he came with two men.”

He gave her an incredulous look at the mention of his hat, but could not hold it. “You were not in your usual hiding spot.” The drow said to her with a smile, but that would not hold, either. “As for my hat, I believe that it may be done for... unless you can fix it. Tis the same for my traveling companion that the boy mentioned. He is human, and in dire need of your help. If the elves have found him, though...” He said, and let the thought hang in the air, knowing that Dusk would figure out the rest easy enough.

“He is ailed with what many of the other humans have, and I had though that if there was one hope to cure him... you would be she.” Jarlaxle explained.

The woman did understand, and figured that they needed to find the human, if he still survived, before the elves did. They likely would not kill him, but take him away. This would not be so terrible a fate, if only the man didn’t need Dusk’s healing magic relatively soon.

“The elves attacked you... is the man injured?” Dusk asked. Jarlaxle shrugged his slender shoulders. In truth he had no idea. The woman nodded, and pursed her lips. She had brought her intoxicating arrows so not to kill any of the surface elves, for they apparently thought they were doing well by attacking the drow. But how would she get to the sick human before the elves?

And then, Dusk had her plan. She turned to Jeaden, and pulled her ring off one of her fragile-looking fingers. The boy had used the ring’s power before, just for fun. It brought up a force field around its wearer, and anyone the wearer chose to bring into the field. She put the ring on one of his fingers, and it resized itself to fit the finger better. One would not want such a ring to slip!

“Do you remember how it works?” The woman asked. Jeaden remembered, and spoke the words to put up the field. She then looked to Jarlaxle.

“You go with the boy, and find your companion. Leave Jeaden with the man; have him bring the force field around them. After they are safe, you come find me. I’ll have the elves taken care of by then.” Dusk said her last sentence with a slight smile. She always did find those particular arrows very entertaining! And with that, she motioned for Jeaden and Jarlaxle to lead the way.

The three ran down the hill, with Jarlaxle taking care to stay close to the little elven boy. He had noticed that the little elf didn’t seem frightened in the least. Jeaden knew well that they would likely be fired upon when the surface elves saw the drow reappear. The dark elf figured that the boy must know Dusk well, to trust in her so. The power of her ring would not fail, and the child knew it. Even if some highly explosive concoction were dashed upon the force field at point blank range, those within would be completely unharmed. Jarlaxle had found a measure of respect for the child.

Dusk herself stayed to the shadow of the trees, and seemed to disappear into them. She planned to let Jeaden and the drow provide a distraction and deal with the elves herself. She wanted to ask why they had attacked an unthreatening drow elf (if a drow elf can be considered so), especially one who traveled with a sick human and an elven child! The woman had an idea as to the answer, but wanted to be completely sure before her next move.

They soon came upon the small elven band, as they crouched on the crest of the hill. Dusk signaled to Jarlaxle, and Jeaden took his arm and ran with him into the trees. The lady knew that the elves would be sure not to hit the boy with an arrow, even without the force field. Jarlaxle would be the focus of their fire, and would draw their attentions from her.

The mercenary had hoped to find Entreri near to where he had fallen from his horse. The man had gotten to a safe hiding place, it seemed, for the surface elves certainly didn’t have him. (Though, perhaps they had not yet gone looking. Most were still hobbling around, tending to the knee wounds Jarlaxle’s daggers had inflicted.)

Dusk, up in a tree now, brought her wrist-mounted crossbows to bear. The middle fingers on each hand pumped nine times, each arrow hitting its mark on one startled surface elf. She had purposely left one, for this was one she knew well. The rest were starting to roll around and giggle on the ground. The woman leapt down from her tree, and quickly brought herself into the sunlight. She wanted the elf to recognize her well enough to hold any attack. Dareenfeil was the elf’s name, and now he looked at the woman with utter shock.

“My lady who... lady Dusk?” Dareenfeil stammered. “I certainly hope there is purpose in your actions, Madame, because if you side with the drow...”

“That drow did nothing wrong, fool! Did you not notice how he made sure not to kill or permanently injure any of you?” Dusk hissed at him, a sudden angry fire in those green eyes. “You know one goodly drow, and would take no such action against him in the same situation!”

“Let me clue you in, dear lady. That drow you so adamantly protect took a little elven boy from his home late last night! He just ran by with the child before you started firing upon us, I’m sure you saw that!” Dareenfeil retorted, daring to put an angry glare and a condescending tone upon her. “And I am quite sure you know the boy that drow took, as well! That was Jeaden Tren’dimis, you know. You love that boy as if he were your own! So why, lady, do you keep us from taking the drow?”

At that, Dusk chuckled. She looked to the now very confused surface elf, and let out a laugh straight from her belly when he questioned her. She pointed her right arm at him, and, too fast for him to dodge, fired one more arrow. The elf fell to the ground giggling in seconds.

The woman put on her sweetest smile, crouched down, and whispered to the Dareenfeil; “My dear sweet elf, there is no drow!” Then she began to sing the words to a powerful spell. In her own native language her ever-echoing voice, combined with the words of her spell, fully took the elves. Each and every one stopped their giggling and stared at Dusk. She spoke to them then, knowing she had them under the powerful spell.

This spell, the woman’s specialty, enabled Dusk (and only she, for none other had the inherent power) to control nearly any it had reached. A bit like a charm in some ways, but many, many times more powerful. This time, though, she used it to remove any memory of the elves fight with Jarlaxle. Things would seem out of place, and so Dusk would put something else there, some story that would fit.

“Listen, my friends...” she spoke. Each elf leaned forward to soak in her every word. “No dark elf has traveled these woods for quite some time. The boy Jeaden traveled with a man alone. He is only a child, you know, and saw no harm in guiding my friend to me in the middle of the night!” And she laughed, keeping the thoughts light hearted.

The woman then started up another spell, one of healing. Jarlaxle’s daggers had disappeared from the holes in elven knees they created, but how would one explain the holes? She thought it would be better if they were not there at all.

“All of you can go back now...” Dusk said. “And please, do be more careful with who you fire upon. My dear friend shall be fine, though a bit shaken.” The lady let out another little laugh, when speaking of the human man Jarlaxle had hopefully found by now. She wondered if her words were true. “Twas sweet of you to think to protect me, as you no doubt perceived him a threat. But I assure you, I can take care of myself, and should I ever have need, I shall call to you.” She was only bantering now, giving her healing spell a little more time.

Satisfied, Dusk gestured the elves off. They stood, and walked to concealed mounts. Each said a final farewell to the woman, and rode quickly back to their small base upon the mountain.

Hearing a tiny thump on the ground, she turned to the large copse of trees to her left. There stood Jarlaxle, arms crossed over his chest, regarding her with a shake of his head. He chuckled then, a wide smile forming on his handsome black face.

“You know...” the drow said, “You could have warned me. I didn’t know you would use that spell. If the boy had not the prescience of mind to hit me, you would have had me, as well. That would have caused some difficulties, since I am drow. If no drow has traveled these woods this day, then I would not have known what to do with myself.” He held his arms out wide then, beckoning for Dusk to come into them.

She ran half the distance to him, and leapt into his arms. The woman wrapped her own arms around his neck, and planted a light kiss on his bald head.

“I have missed you, my dear Jarlaxle!” She said to him, laughing, as he pulled her tighter into his hug.

“And I you... and, though I wish I could share a longer moment...” Jarlaxle said, looking into her face. “There is something I need you to do. The man I brought to you, he is in worse a condition than before... and he was hit when the first elven arrows came down at him.”

Dusk nodded. “Take me to him.”

She had never tried to heal this plague the man had. (The silly people, they thought she was human, and would let her nowhere near the afflicted.) The lady hoped that she truly could heal him. The little sparkle of anticipation in the lovely woman’s green eyes was all Jarlaxle needed to know that she was prepared. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, figuring they could reach Entreri faster if she was carried. Dusk didn’t know where he was, after all, and Jarlaxle wasn’t in a mood to have the lady in his thoughts at the moment. The lady could not heal the dead, and so she allowed herself to be carried. The drow ran easily through the thick wood, backtracking the trail he and Jeaden had used to find the man.

* * * * * * * *

Jeaden had done as Jarlaxle had told him, and still sat within the force field with Entreri. The assassin had awakened a few times, taken one look at the ever-grinning child, and tried to fall back into the blackness quickly. The boy had tried to make conversation, and asked the man about his “pretty little knife”, speaking of his jeweled dagger. Entreri entertained thoughts of using the magnificent weapon on the boy, but pushed them aside.

It would not be wise of him to heal shut the wound and elven arrow still stuck into. Nor would the dagger’s life-force stealing magic work on the plague the man had, for he had tried it before. And now, he didn’t think that he would have had the strength to use the weapon, anyhow. He wondered how long he had to live, and, if Jarlaxle never came back with this woman who could supposedly cure him... would the little boy be willing to take Entreri’s dagger in hand, and plunge it through the man’s heart? Entreri thought not, but decided to give Jarlaxle an hour. Then he would somehow subtly talk the boy into killing him. With that thought, the man faded out of his pain, and back into merciful unconsciousness.

As the blackness took him, though, he heard one last sound, and saw one last clear vision. The sound, Jarlaxle’s voice, talking to the elven child. The vision, a pair of impossibly green eyes that stared into his own, so very close.

* * * * * * * *

Jarlaxle ran into the clearing where Entreri lie, and put Dusk back on the ground. He looked at the man, lying there within the force field of Dusk’s ring. Jeaden, upon seeing them, lowered the field and moved out of the woman’s way. She moved down to discern that the assassin was still alive. An arrow protruded from his shoulder, set deeply there, just beneath his collarbone.

“Do you think you can heal him?” Jarlaxle spoke in the drow tongue, so as not to disturb Jeaden. He had told the child that Entreri was just taking a quick nap, and that the man would play with him later... but only if he went back up to the house. Jarlaxle had heard the child run off, but didn’t want to have him running back and refusing to leave until he was certain that Entreri really would be okay.

Dusk, who understood the drow’s words perfectly, merely shook her head. Healing the arrow wound would be no problem. It was removing it without killing the already weakened man that worried her. He had lost a lot of blood from the wound, (and coughed up a lot of it, as well) and broken his left wrist in his initial roll from his horse.

The lady started chanting over Entreri, trying to heal him as much as possible. It was much harder while the man was unconscious. She could at least lower his fever, she knew, and stop the blood that flowed from his shoulder. But to remove the arrow, and take away his pain...

“I need him awake. He’s blacked out again... strange, he was just looking at me not a moment ago!” The woman said, frustrated. “What is his name?”

It occurred to Jarlaxle then that he hadn’t ever mentioned the assassin’s name. It seemed, somehow, that Dusk should have already known it. He mentally smacked himself in the head. How could she know? She’s never met the man... and I suppose she’s trying to keep out of his head.

“Artemis... Artemis Entreri is his name.” Replied the drow. He looked to Dusk and warned; “Ware him well. If he does not recognize you as an ally, he may move against you. Or... try, at least. Just don’t get closer than you need.”

“But that’s the thing, I need to be close. Worry none.” Dusk assured Jarlaxle.

He nodded, not really worried for the woman, but more for Entreri. If he moved suddenly, and startled her enough, the man might get his death wish fulfilled. The drow knew how the woman could be, though, and hoped that Entreri would be fine. She could be very gentle when she wanted to be, and could coax nearly anyone into seeing her as positively harmless.

Dusk leaned down closer to the unconscious man then. She slid her hands under his shirt, preparing to make the area numb as soon as the man awoke. (And then it was her turn to mentally smack herself in the head. The man was handsome, without a doubt, and had such a nicely muscled and slightly fuzzy chest... how Dusk loved her men that way!) His broken wrist would not kill him, and could wait a little while to be healed. She hovered them over the wound the arrow stuck from.

“Artemis Entreri, come back to me.” She whispered in the assassin’s ear. Then she moved to look into his face. His eyes were still closed. The man had made no move, and no sound besides his strained breathing. She whispered to him again, a bit louder... and nothing happened.

Sighing, she said to Jarlaxle; “Would you please hit me?” Thinking that perhaps the distraction of the man’s chest would hinder her.

“What!?!” The mercenary replied, very confused. “Is something wrong?”

She sighed again. “Yes... and it’s going to continue to be wrong until you hit me! Now would you please just be quick about it!”

“Why would you want me to do that?” He asked, with a teasing smile, quick to catch on. “ I’m not hitting you unless you tell me why I should. You’re dangerous, you know.” Jarlaxle added with a smirk.

“Oh for all the stupid...” the woman began, then chuckled at her friend. “You didn’t tell me he was so handsome, or so fuzzy! Okay? Happy now?” Jarlaxle, laughing now, nodded. “Good, whack me one. I can’t do much of anything...”

SMACK!!! Jarlaxle hit her across the back of her head, and laughed some more.

“Thank you. Ass...” Dusk replied. Jarlaxle hadn’t caught her last comment, since he was trying not to laugh at her. The woman turned her attention back to Entreri. The man was still unconscious. She tried whispering to him one last time... that didn’t work. Even though her whisper carried a bit of magic, the assassin was too far into blackness for it to take. And so, no other alternative that would not bring the man about trying to kill her presented itself.

The woman pulled one hand from his shirt, and held her hair back with it. She then leaned down close to his face, and lightly kissed his thin lips, lending him of bit of her own life force. He stirred, briefly, and she moved away. She spoke to him, asking if he was awake, and got no answer. Dusk kissed him once more, harder this time, mentally commanding him to wake up.

How surprised she was when she tried to pull away again, feeling him stir, and found that she could not. Artemis Entreri, a bit stronger already from her kiss, had clamped his hand on the back of her head, and held her to him.

The woman didn’t mind all that much, and didn’t try to pull back again. For, now that he was conscious again, she could begin to work on his shoulder. She allowed him to kiss her, to borrow whatever energy she could spare, figuring it would be better if he stayed distracted.

Dusk lightly put her hand down around the arrow in Entreri’s shoulder, letting her magic numb it. A moment later she pulled her hand from his shirt, took the dagger from her belt, and stuck it in the ground beside her. The woman broke the kiss and took the man’s hand from where he had entwined it in her hair. Entreri tried to pull her back, not from any attraction to her (for he could just barely see her, anyhow), but because her lips themselves held such power. He had wanted to pull more from them.

But that Dusk could not allow. She had given him a bit of strength, because he would need it, especially if his wound bled a lot when she removed the arrow. Though, the lady needed to heal him fully, and could not do so if she herself had no energy.

She smiled at him, and kissed his forehead, whispering. “Be still now, dear Artemis.” He did lie back down then, for though he was a strong willed man, the ever-echoing words carried a more powerful command than his still dazed head could easily shrug off.

Dusk pulled her dagger from the ground, and cut off the arrow’s shaft where it had sunk into the human’s shoulder. She threw that aside, put her hand under Entreri. He tried to sit up a bit to aid her, but found that he was far too weak, and simply allowed the lady to hold him up. She tightly grasped remaining piece of the arrow with one hand, the other on the front side, closer to his collarbone and prepared to slow the blood flow that would come. The man shut his grey eyes, and gritted his teeth, expecting an incredible amount of pain. She took a deep breath, hoping that her magic had indeed numbed the wound, and carefully pulled out the arrow from the back of the assassin’s shoulder.

She had to quickly cover the other side of the hole, so that the sick man would not lose any more of his much needed blood. Entreri merely stared at her, wondering why he wasn’t passed out once again from pain.

The assassin was about to ask why he hadn’t even swooned when this strange woman had cut in half the arrow that had been stuck so deeply into his shoulder. And how in the hell had he not felt a thing when she pulled the arrow out? Entreri held his question.

The woman was chanting again, and holding tightly the hole now through his shoulder. The assassin was certainly aware of it, but somehow, it didn’t hurt him any. And, a few moments later, when Dusk moved to let go of the hole, it was no longer there. Seeing her finished, Entreri asked his question.

“Your pardon...” he said, his voice hoarse and aching, and she looked at him once more, “what did you do to me?” With his still blurry vision, the man could not see much of her, and would not have liked the smile she wore much if he could see.

“A simple spell, and that is all. I have tried to bring down your fever a bit...” Dusk said, “but it seems as if it is coming back sooner than I expected.” In looking at the man again, she saw that she was correct. Apparently, the quick healing she had done while he was still unconscious had not been enough. He had turned on his side, and started coughing up blood again. Entreri lie on his back again and groaned, covering his face with his hands. It seemed that his headache was returning as well.

Dusk looked to Jarlaxle, who was now seated on the ground watching her. He regarded Entreri as well, and asked him if he felt better. At that, the aching and now grumpy assassin gave him the finger. The man was truly not in the mood for Jarlaxle’s antics at the time. The drow simply chuckled, drawing a growl from Entreri, and a stifled giggle from Dusk. The man mumbled something then, rolled over on his stomach, and coughed some more.

“We should get him up to the house. The moist ground does him no good, and I’m sure it would do him well to at least drink something.” Dusk said to Jarlaxle. The drow nodded his agreement. She crouched down beside Entreri again, and asked; “Do you think you can walk?”

“I think not, nor do I think you could carry me.” The man let out a muffled laugh, still lying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around his head. “I cannot see, anyway. I would probably run right into a tree, and then wouldn’t you both have a giggle at that!” He said, and started laughing hysterically, mumbling something now and then.

Both Jarlaxle and Dusk looked at the man, concerned. Obviously he was not cured of his sickness just yet. In truth, the lady probably could have carried him, but not as quickly as she would have liked. So the lady put her dagger back on her belt and shut her eyes, calling upon a spell of teleportation. She took both Jarlaxle and Entreri with her, and the three soon reappeared on the balcony of a guest room of her house.

They were in the room then, Dusk guiding Entreri to the other side. She lie him down on the bed there, where he fast began to fall asleep. So soft was the bed! The man wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, to escape the worsened pain in his head and once again rising fever. But, unfortunately for him, (in his mind at the time, anyhow) Dusk would not let him. Seeing the human near to dozing off, she promptly bit him, rather hard.

“OUCH! Are you insane, woman? Why won’t you just let me sleep, for the sake of anything merciful!” Entreri moaned at her, not feeling very well at all.

“I cannot help you much if you are sleeping, my dear man...” and was cut off by Entreri’s next groan.

“Please, why so loud? My head...” he groaned again, and, almost as an afterthought. “Do not ever call me ‘dear’ again, else I may have to show you just how dear I am not!”

Dusk was unfazed by his threats in response to her concern. She had even expected them. But upon hearing that last statement, Jarlaxle nearly threw a dagger into the man’s heart. The drow would have expected the same of him, but not now, and not at Dusk. It would be better to kill the man now, before he raised her ire and she ended up killing him. That the man certainly would not want, Jarlaxle knew.

But, Dusk’s look stayed her friend’s arm, and she shook her head.

“I am told that the few humans who survive this long are not kind to their helpers. If he was important enough to bring to me, I should think that you would gain nothing in killing him now.” She took his hand and continued.

“Go and entertain Jeaden...” she said to him, hearing a giggle and running footsteps outside the closed door. “Or rather, have him entertain you. Whichever you please. I will tend to him.” Gesturing to Entreri. She gave the mercenary her usual smile, letting him know that she minded not the man’s threats, and that she could easily take care of herself.

Jarlaxle kissed the woman briefly, and went to leave the room. Upon opening the door, he found a beaming Jeaden standing there, wearing his wide brimmed hat. The hat had an arrow hole in it now, but the boy still seemed to be so very thrilled to wear it. The drow looked at the boy and laughed. The little one had found his hat, and was now happily handing it to him. Jarlaxle took one final nervous look at his old friend, left the room with the boy, and shut the door.

Dusk smiled a little at the unlikely pair, and turned her attentions back to Entreri. To her surprise, the man was still awake, watching her. He lay there, blinking and trying to make his eyes focus correctly. She looked back at him, her green gaze concerned.

The lady sat down on the bed beside him and put her hand to his forehead. He flinched, and tried to pull away. He could see barely at all now, and knew not her intentions. But he lay still then, realizing that she only wanted to see if his fever had lowered any.

“It has not, I shall tell you that. I believe it has grown since I lie down, for I can see close to nothing now...” Entreri said much softer, and almost politely, than before. “But I did see something of interest. Or, at least I think I did. My mind is not pleased with me, it seems, so I cannot be sure.”

Dusk merely smiled at him, grimly amused at the man’s words. Entreri was an incredible human, this she knew from the fact that he was still drawing breath. Many younger men than he had died long before this painful final stage of the plague. This assassin had been subjected to cold, pounding rain, had survived a fall from his horse that should have broken his spine and then an arrow through his shoulder… this man should be very dead. The lady shook her head.

“Here,” She whispered, pulling a goblet of water from the bedside table and gathering Entreri’s hands around it.

The assassin tried once more to sit up. He nearly managed it, but the effort on his weary form started him shaking once more, and Dusk had to take hold of the goblet herself to keep it from spilling everywhere. She slipped an arm behind his back and pushed him into a sitting position. Entreri mumbled his thanks and allowed the lady to hold him up, but still he tried to take the goblet from her hands, even though they shook far too violently for him to possibly hope to hold it alone. Finally he gave up, and allowed Dusk to put the drink to his lips for him. The man took a tentative swallow, and then a deeper one. His parched throat, at least, felt a hundred times better for it, and he gestured for the lady to take the goblet away.

Dizzily, Entreri tried to tilt his head back to look at his strange helper.

“Why do you tend to me?” He asked, working to suppress a cough.

Dusk smiled, gently lying the man back down onto the bed.

“Jarlaxle has asked me to spare your life.” She tilted her head to one side, regarding the man for a moment. “And I myself truly do not wish for you to die, so I shall do as he asks.”

“I owe you much, then, and should you succeed in doing so, I’ll be hard pressed to repay such a debt.”

Dusk laughed gently, and put one hand on each side of the man’s head. The need to be swift about her work pressed in on her. There was no time to discuss a return of the immense favor she now did the assassin. Before she started her chant, one that she hoped would cure the man’s sickness, he grabbed her wrists.

“You are his then, Jarlaxle’s? And yet you kissed me, ha, but I got you back... and then I threaten his dear lady...” He looked in Dusk’s direction, “I am an intelligent one, now aren’t I... the foolish human... I suppose you are not, then, hmm? Human, I mean...” He paused for a moment, thinking. The woman was laughing, so very softly, all through Entreri’s babble. He had started naming off races, trying to guess hers, she supposed.

“Hush, now.” She whispered, and kissed is forehead. His fever was burning much hotter than before. And, though she did not know the man, she figured that this was a far cry from his normal behavior. Even moments ago, he had seemed quite a bit more like the image of the man that Jarlaxle had imparted upon her. The fever had probably caused the strange way he acted, Dusk knew.

He did stop babbling then.

“I belong to no one, I assure you.” With that, she started her chant, starting on Entreri’s head, working down the length of his body. She worked over him for hours, slowly pulling the plague from the man. His fever went back down relatively quickly, and he was able to see clearly soon after. The man took a moment to look over the woman.

Artemis Entreri had traveled close to the entirety of Faerun, and had seen so many different lovely women. But none of those were like the one who now leaned over him. He had never encountered any creature to match the beauty of this one. Her hair, a huge mass of curls and waves, was such shade of the richest red the man had seen, and it was so very long. Draped over her right shoulder, as to keep from brushing his face, it covered most of that side of her body. All that her hair did not cover, though… the lady was well muscled and very well formed, and the assassin tried quite hard not to stare anywhere below the line of her collar for too long.

Then there was her face, and that is where Entreri found his eyes easily lingering most often. It was angular, somewhat like his own, but with a few more exotic features. Her face had some quality that he could not name, some strangeness he could not place. He noticed her tattoo then, the strange curving mark under her left eye. It looked so very familiar to him, though he knew not why.

Her eyes, he knew, were a deep green the likes of which he had never seen. The man found himself wishing she would open them, just so he could be sure he hadn’t been seeing things earlier and assure himself that they really were such a color. Green eyes were uncommon among nearly any race he knew of, but ones that shade seemed impossible. Hours of careful study had brought Entreri an appreciation of the lady, and he wondered for the first time just who this beauty could be.

Suddenly, Dusk let her hands fall away from the man. She started to get up off the bed, but sat back down again, near to fainting. The woman was so very exhausted now. The plague Entreri had had been harder to pull from him than she had expected. She sat still a moment, and tried getting up again, to no avail. She fell back down to the bed, unconscious, her head landing half on the assassin’s thigh.

The man looked at her strangely, about to ask what she was doing. He tried to sit up, but found himself to still be very dizzy, and settled for pulling his body away from the woman. The man was not at all fond of people touching him. Though he had moved, and started talking impatiently to her, she seemed not to notice or care. Entreri looked at her again, and listened to her soft, rhythmic breathing. He chuckled then, realizing that she had fallen asleep, and realizing, too, that she was about to fall off the bed.

Entreri sighed, and pulled the soundly sleeping woman farther up onto the bed. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, the assassin would have thought her dead, for she moved not at all. She didn’t look very comfortable, with her head bent at such an odd angle, the man had thought. Entreri shut his eyes for a moment, and nearly fell asleep himself. Perhaps a bit of rest would do them both well.

The assassin pulled the single pillow underneath his head, and sighed again. He looked to the sleeping woman once more, knowing that he owed her his life. For all that she had done for him, he could at least make her more comfortable.

Shaking his head, not believing what he was doing, he pulled the beautiful little woman to him and laid her head gently on his chest, pushing her hair aside from her face. He winced then, at the thought of what she might do to him if she awoke to find herself in such a position. He did not even know the lady’s name, and yet there she lie, wrapped tightly in Entreri’s arms, for she had begun to shiver.

I owe this little creature my life! Entreri told himself. He definitely was uncomfortable, having a woman, however lovely she might be, asleep in his arms. The man nearly threw her off the first time she moved. She had put her own arms over his shoulders, and nuzzled her face against his chest. I must sleep... he thought. He was fully exhausted himself, and if he slept he would not be aware of the woman. The assassin did sleep then, falling happily into the darkness. Though he did find rest, he also found the lovely woman in his dreams.