Chapter 25: An Unpaid Debt

The low rumble in the distance promised a summer storm. Heath kept his head down, his hood shading his face as he walked through the crowded streets as the lingering traces of the sunset slowly faded into the shadow of evening. Aleria had a different feel as its night life roused, especially during the warm summer nights. The distant threat of rain was unlikely to dampen it.
Heath’s days had been busy, tracking down old contacts, seeking out the bottomfeeders and scoundrels of the less reputable establishments of Aleria had all been fruitless. No hint or clue as to where Murmur or whichever alias she now used had vanished. No sign as to who her friends might be, nor even where she had bought hirelings. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He might have adopted the guise of a bounty hunter in recent years, but she had perfected the craft of becoming an imposter long before their paths had diverged. Still, his pride bristled at coming up short. Again.
A voice cut through his darkening thoughts, directly into his mind. He winced instinctively as the magical message came to him. 
“Unless ye find y’self otherwise occupied,” Orsic’s thick dwarven voice said in Heath’s head, “we need ye back at the hall. All hands on deck, we have coinciding expeditions leaving soon.”
Heath growled low in his throat, rasping a reluctant reply. “Understood.” 
He shifted his path through the city, heading towards the Turen district and the guildhall. Word from Orsic promised a contract. That meant it wasn’t anything to do with Murmur. And expeditions from the city meant doubly so. Heath knew he had to compartmentalize, blocking away whatever had been growing these past few days and hiding it away. He hoped that whatever the guild had lined up was something that could be easily and quickly handled, there were too many other things vying for their attention in the city. 
By the time Heath reached the guildhall, the streets were awash in the orange glow of street lamps and raucous sounds drifted out from taverns and alehouses. As he approached the gate, a shadowed figure drifted out of the night to fall in step with him.
Heath nodded to Victra, who gave him a smirk. “Little late, eh?” She asked. “Out wandering, or were you actually doing something important?”
“Good to see you too,” Heath said, ignoring her question. “Any idea what this is about?”
“No more than you, I’d wager.”
Excellent. Heath thought as he pushed through the gates. He spotted Mars and Daen, their muscular frames bent over a massive log in the courtyard and surrounded by a pile of woodchips. Mars had been busy for over a week beginning his renovations, and the log would soon be one of the new beams for the hall.
“Aha!” Mars called, his bare chest glistening with sweat. “You’re the last ones, now we can begin. C’mon inside, big man!” Daen followed wordlessly, dusting wood chips from his hands.
In the hall, the others were already gathered around the long table. Nambu and Orsic stood at the head while the others filled in the spaces along its length. Heath noted Kriv standing to Nambu’s side, quietly watching as the others joined them. 
“We apologize for the late summons,” Nambu said, spreading his hands on the table, “but it seems we have more than a single affair drawing our attention.”
“And in short order,” Orsic said brusquely. “We have the upcoming Contest that Kriv is ever-watching, so these matters have to be dealt with quickly.” He fixed his stern gaze on the group, giving a wave for Nambu to continue once he was confident he had their attention. 
The tall bugbear acknowledged the gesture with a nod. “I received word from Valenwood earlier this evening. I have kept communications with the village alderman, and they now request my, and by extension, our aid.”
Heath watched as emotions rippled out across the group, each markedly different. Many directed sorrow and understanding, a softness towards Nambu. Despite his poise, there was a rigidity to him as he even mentioned Valenwood. Others tensed, Heath among them, as images of the battle flickered through his mind. He saw Cassian straighten his posture, and Svrcina reached out a hand for him. Heath clenched his jaw as memories of hunting the fleeing brigands clawed at his mind, unable to be dismissed. He blinked the visions of blood away as Nambu continued to speak. 
“The village has been working to rebuild since… since the battle. The Alerian soldiers stayed to help for a time, keeping bandits who would otherwise prey on such vulnerable people, but they have since returned to the city. Now the villagers of Valenwood have been beset by a new threat. Gnolls.”
Heath frowned as several of the others muttered in reply. Gnolls were rare, especially in areas close to the heart of the Alerian kingdom. Looking like large, bipedal hyenas, gnolls were vicious, rabid, bloodthirsty dogmen more akin to beasts than men. Legends were that the first gnolls were created through a profane blood ritual by an ancient evil god, transforming hyenas into their fiendish thralls. Gnolls had little society, running and hunting as packs. A single gnoll was dangerous, but a pack could wreak havoc across the countryside if allowed.
Nambu nodded gravely, noting their expressions. “I know, it seems unlikely. I thought the same, but the alderman is convinced it is gnolls, and a pack of them. Hunters first thought it was wild dogs or wolves, but they heard yips and howls in the night and spotted them on more than one occasion. If there is a pack of gnolls so close to civilization, it must be dealt with. I fear for what influence could be behind them, what could cause them to run rampant.”
“Iden and I will join him,” Kriv rasped, eyes glowing faintly in the low light. He glared in the direction of the tall bugbear. “Some think I need a break from this city, even when sometimes it feels like I’m the only one working to keep this guild afloat.”
Iden rested a hand on Kriv’s shoulder. “We’ll bring what is necessary to help hunt these fell beasts. We dealt with the accursed vampire, a pack of gnolls should be no problem.”
Kriv muttered darkly under his breath, but nodded. Iden turned his stoic expression towards Heath, expecting him to speak but the ranger made no move to answer.
Heath’s thoughts turned to their recent events. First werewolves, now this? What if the two incidents were connected. The vampire had manipulated werewolves into butchering people in Aleria, who’s to say his influence hadn’t gone further. Or if he has more werewolves out there, suddenly without a master. They still had no inkling as to where they had come from, and Gurrahk, the bounty hunter. had seen that they would likely never know for certain. What if the gnolls were actually more of Vasile’s former thralls? Or not even gnolls at all? His thoughts were interrupted as Orsic spoke.
“Nambu will be taking one group south, where ye will deal with these beasts.” He glowered, an unusually dark expression on the dwarf’s face. “At the same time, I’ll be taking another group north. The timing is unfortunate, but there is business at the Broken Sky Spire that has long demanded a journey. And with the Contest fast approaching, this affair needs to be settled sooner rather than later.”
“Which affair is this?” Cassian asked, his expression hinting that he already knew the answer. 
Orsic took a breath. “The task which we have known is coming, lad. I have been looking, and I believe I know what must be done. This tool, the weapon we spoke of, I know what we need. In order to deal with this fiend, it must be constructed very specifically, and I require something that only the Spire can offer.”
Heath watched with curiosity as Cassian and Svrcina shared a look, her never letting go of his hand. Several of the others likewise watched them with looks of care and strong protectiveness, something Heath had never seen so openly directed at the Romeros. The siblings often looked to each other for strength, but the level of concern the others showed for them was something new. The mentions of a fiend was enough for Heath to quash whatever curiosities welled up inside him. The most he had ever heard was a name. Hush. Never one to delve into the affairs of the fell powers or infernal messengers, he was more than content to let the others keep their secrets and deal with it themselves. 
“The mountains there have resources that are unattainable anywhere else,” Orsic explained. “There are also still some questions that may only be answered there. Which is why ye will be joining me.” He nodded curtly to Cassian, who clenched his jaw but returned the gesture. 
“I will join you as well,” the deep voice of Daen rose for the first time in the meeting. He kept his thick forearms crossed over his chest, and his furrowed brow hinted at more left unsaid, but the big man did not speak more. Once again, Heath was happy to let others keep their secrets. 
“I’ll go too,” Victra said, kicking her feet from the table where she had been reclining. “C’mon, your ladyship,” she quipped at Adrie across the table, “you’ll help round out this group of otherwise surly men.”
Adrie smiled good-naturedly and nodded. “I’d be happy to tag along.”
Heath’s eyes were drawn to Svrcina, who had been unusually quiet. The tiefling looked up, her voice quietly strained. 
“I will go with Nambu,” she said. Cassian looked at her, his mouth opened slightly. She shook her head, cutting off whatever protest he was about to offer. “I know you will be fine, but there is something… a feeling. I will not go north with you, I worry I would be more of a liability than an aid. I cannot explain it, please don’t ask me to go.”
Cassian closed his mouth and his expression softened. He nodded and looked back to the others. “That should be enough for whatever task Orsic believes we might face, eh old friend?”
The dwarf nodded. “Aye, I believe that this should be enough. Understand that even I do not know what to expect there. But I know that our quest will take us there.”
Heath hesitated thoughtfully, then leaned in. “The Broken Sky Spire… north of here?” The others looked to him with varying expressions of confusion, but Orsic nodded. “Is that the realm of King Dûr?” He asked, speaking of the dwarf king whose realm stretched through most of the Wind Mountains.
Orsic shook his head sadly. “Nay, ‘tis no realm of the dwarves, not any more. The dwarven settlement within the Spire was abandoned decades ago as their society slowly collapsed. The final remnants settled in Aleria, carving out what became Durthane.” He tilted his head slightly, the only hint of his surprise at Heath’s mention of the dwarven sovereign. But he made no further comment. 
Heath nodded slowly, offering no further explanation either. Orsic’s words had sparked the memories of helping refugees trek across miles and miles as no more than a teenager. Thoughts of a people displaced and searching for a new place to call home, driven from their old home and desperately fleeing to any place of safety. Memories from another time. Another life. 
Heath straightened himself, shaking the memory from his mind. He looked at Nambu.
“When do we ride for Valenwood?”

The following morning the guild met early, hoping for a fast ride to Valenwood. A blanket of fog had covered Aleria, and between the ruddy glow of the sunrise and pale light of streetlamps, the streets took on the dull image of a dream, all obscured by faint, diffused light. Heath sat astride his mare, as Breeze stood patiently in the cool morning air, occasionally sidestepping and giving her mane a shake. Heath patted her neck, similarly anxious to be moving.
Nambu was finishing his farewell to Orsic beneath the open gates. The others were all wrapped in cloaks and on their own horses: Iden atop a great white steed, Kriv a sleek dark brown mount. Nambu’s mottled grey and white horse waited idly beside Heath and Breeze. The gelding was large, easily two hands taller than Breeze, making him more suited to the bugbear’s larger frame. Nambu wore new robes of coarse grey underneath a breastplate, his only armor aside from a shield etched with the image of balanced scales. In his hand, he carried a tall spear. All so different from his scarred leathers and swords. 
Heath found himself frowning as Nambu clearly wanted to present his change in vocation and recent oaths of servitude to the Final Judge. He spoke of serving a greater good, but Heath saw the look in his eyes. He carried the petition from the people of Valenwood to the guild, but Heath knew the plea of atonement was his alone. Nambu needed this. Perhaps he was naive, or merely delusional, in his belief that a single act might wipe clean what had been done. Changing his armor for priestly robes, his weapons for the holy symbol that dangled from his neck. Heath knew such things weren’t enough to really change a person’s heart. It wouldn’t make the memories easier to weather. And it certainly wouldn’t blot out the things he had done. 
Nambu mounted, pulling himself into the saddle with natural ease. He gave Heath a nod, and guiding the gelding, led them down the street and onto the road to Valenwood. 
By midmorning, the fog had burned away and the group was well on their way southward. As they rode, Nambu shared more of what the message from Valenwood had contained. It had started with howls and yips, mostly at night. It wasn’t until hunters spotted them moving upright on two separate occasions that they knew it was something more than wolves and wild dogs. Since the first sightings a week past, their howls have become dominant towards the western slopes of the valley. The alderman was worried that a raid would be incoming, especially given the vulnerable state of the village following the attack and the eventual retreat of the Alerian soldiers. Nambu had offered assistance to the village elders before he had left, his expression of both a desire to set things right in Valenwood and make the region as a whole more safe. 
As Nambu said they would be riding directly to the western slopes, Heath felt a measure of relief that they would not be visiting the village. The dark memories of the battle and its aftermath continued to creep at the edges of his mind, and he had no desire to relive those moments more than necessary.
They diverged from the road, picketing their horses and setting camp in a recessed glade before continuing their trek. Nambu guided their path, his steady presence leading them for hours until they reached the steady incline of the western slopes. To the south, thin trails of smoke marked the village of Valenwood. As they walked, whatever ease they all felt faded as the low conversations died out. 
Nambu paused, looking up. “These woods have been silent.” He murmured, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. He motioned them forward. 
Heath instinctively let out a long, slow breath. The wilderness around them had been quiet and absent of wildlife for several minutes. Their group had not been moving silently, but the silence around them was of another making. 
Without speaking, they split their group, staggering themselves as they moved more carefully through the trees. Nambu stayed at the front, his face scanning the ground ahead of him as he searched for tracks. Heath stayed to his left, maybe four paces behind. Iden followed with Kriv, the dragonborn leading the knight through the least resistant path. To Heath’s strained ears, he blundered like an ox through the underbrush, even following behind some twenty paces. Svrcina took the back of the group, her movements trained and silent.
Heath forced his focus back to their quarry. His eyes were drawn upward, and there he spotted it. Deep gouges in the bark of a tree. Claw marks, high above where they were walking. 
Heath gave a low whistle, causing the others to all pause. He pointed to the claw marks he spotted, then to the canopy higher above. Warnings of an ambush from above. He drifted several more strides away from the group, nodding Nambu forward. The tall bugbear scanned the trees once more, and seeing Heath’s tense posture, continued forward.
They had been moving for barely a few minutes before Nambu motioned for them to halt. Heath tensed as he saw Nambu’s focus on the ground in front of him. The bugbear motioned them to stay low, then slunk forward through the brush. 
He has their trail, Heath thought. He glided through the shadows of the trees, moving silently as he trusted Nambu to guide their path. He kept his eyes fixed higher, scanning the heights of the trees, keenly watching for the increasingly common gouges of claws and scratches along their trunks. We have their trail.
Another several minutes of careful tracking before Nambu motioned for another pause. He stood at the base of a narrow rock cliff, barely wide enough to be called a clearing. He stood tall, unmoving, hands frozen at his sides. Heath furiously scanned the brush around them, growing anxious.
Eventually Nambu visibly relaxed, and motioned them all forward. As he approached, Heath glanced to the ground where a mess of heavy tracks scarred the soft forest floor. Where Nambu stood, they intersected with another path that had been trampled by even more tracks. 
“These paths have been heavily traveled,” Nambu said, keeping his voice low. “Both have seen use within the last day or so.”
“Numbers?” Kriv asked, eyes darting between Nambu and the surrounding forest. 
“A dozen,” Nambu said. “Perhaps more. They aren’t trying to hide where they’ve been, which means they have made a mess of their tracks.”
“Less than three to one…” Kriv muttered.
“I like those odds,” Iden said. “These things are beasts, born of hatred. They will not stand against us.”
Heath held his tongue. He didn’t have Iden’s convictions of the inevitable triumph of good over evil. It just didn’t work like that.
“Their numbers shouldn’t be a problem,” Nambu said reassuringly. “Gnolls can be ferocious, but they aren’t much for strategy. They fight in a pack, using their numbers. Unless we wander into an ambush, I doubt they will prove to be much of a problem.”
“Then what is our plan?” Svrcina asked. “We have two different paths we can follow, plus the one we followed here.”
“If we want to follow them,” Kriv said. “That would seem to give the best chance at what Nambu warned against. I for one don’t look forward to a gnoll ambush.”
“Finding their camp would give us the opportunity to be sure we got them all,” Iden countered. “We are here to rout them, not just batter a few in the forest.”
“Perhaps we draw them to us,” Nambu mused quietly. “Some sort of diversion, to draw them all to a place where we can ambush them.”
“We’d still need to know where they are,” Svrcina said. “What if what we do doesn’t get them all? Or doesn’t get any of them? We can’t fight them if we don’t know where to go.”
“But we know they will eventually return to a camp,” Iden said. “We just need to find where-“
“Quiet.” Heath muttered, forcefully enough that it startled the others into silence. He cocked his head, straining his ears. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He had heard something. Something distant…
There.
Barks. Yips. From the way Nambu’s eyes widened, Heath knew he heard it as well. Heath stayed motionless, frozen while he strained his senses to their limits. It was unmistakable. They were coming from the south. And they were drawing closer. 
Rapidly, he motioned to the south, indicating the path the gnolls would be following. Another sweep of his hand in a wide circle and the group scattered. The unspoken message was clear, and its urgency was unmistakable. Within moments, the others would be able to hear. At the base of the broken cliff, carving against the side of a hill, they quickly moved to set their ambush.
Though the underbrush was thick, only a few gnarled trees offered thick cover, so their options were limited. Iden hunkered down in the brush near the base of a tree, Svrcina deftly climbing into its boughs. Kriv dashed to the brush across the small clearing, vanishing into the foliage, as did Nambu quickly behind him. Heath darted up the broken cliff, pulling himself up into a knotted tree growing out of the rock part way up. Clinging to the rough trunk, Heath had a perfect vantage point in the direction of the approaching gnolls. A quick glance down, and he could see where the others were all hidden. Fortunes help them if the gnolls’ eyes were as keen as Heath’s. 
The few moments stretched on as Heath’s rapid breathing slowed and steadied. The others would hear them by now. The sounds grew louder and louder, growing until the figures broke into view. Three gnolls leading down the path. Hunched and muscular, they were covered in thick, matted fur with short snouts and dark, beady eyes. They carried spears and hooked blades, and as they snuffled, Heath felt his blood chill. These gnolls stood nearly six feet tall, even hunched as they were, like massive bipedal hyenas. 
Crashing through the brush behind them came the larger force. Heath quickly counted ten, all carrying an array of weapons, from cruel, hooked blades to crude bows slung across their backs. Some carried rough shields, and all were marked with crimson war stripes. Striding with them was a larger, even more muscular gnoll, heavily scarred. Heath could tell the leader from the first look, its scars telling a story of many battles and its intricate war paint marking it from its lessers. 
Thirteen, Heath thought as a wave of calm washed over him. Our five. Let’s see what our final count will be. He silently reached for his quiver, smoothly drawing an arrow and setting it to his bowstring as he balanced high in the tree. 
The scouts scampered forward, motioning the others to follow as they dropped one at a time down the rocky hillside. The larger group moved to follow, carefully finding their way down the cliffside before one halted suddenly. It raised its snout, sniffing the air as though suddenly alerted to something. 
Heath breathed out slowly. The air had shifted. His fingers tensed against the arrow, preparing to flex and draw back on his bow. The seconds stretched out before him as the first burst of the battle drew closer. At the edge of his vision, he saw one of the scouts draw close to where Iden was crouched.
The gnoll sniffing the air gave a low gruff, like a hound alerting to danger. In that moment, Iden erupted from the brush and slammed his axe into the head of the closest gnoll. 
Heath immediately drew and loosed an arrow at the gnoll that had caught their scent. It reeled back, a spray of blood from its throat arcing through the air as it fell motionless. 
Chaos erupted all around them. 
Kriv burst from his hiding place, wielding twin blades that leaked darkness from their edges. Svrcina dropped from the tree, her scythe glinting in the streams of sunlight as it materialized. Nambu stood tall, a flash of light coming from his outstretched hand as a gnoll stumbled and fell, its fur smoking and blackened. The leader of the pack raised a deep, bloodcurdling howl, the others taking up the call as they rushed forward in a bloodied frenzy. 
Three gnolls rushed Iden, the largest and first foe they saw. Two matched off to Svrcina and Nambu who had danced to the far side of the clearing. Quickly dividing their forces. Kriv was a flash of black as he ducked and rolled towards Iden after cutting the legs out from one gnoll. He came to his feet, teeth bared as the other gnolls howled in their fury. The large gnoll, the leader, strode forward confidently towards the melee erupting at the base of the hill, unwinding a cruel, barbed flail from around its waist. 
Heath had his second arrow drawn, a line to the leader in his sight, before the sound of tearing bark from below pulled his focus. One of the scouts, scrambling upward, its slavering jaws snapping beneath him. Swearing to himself, Heath pivoted, shooting downward. The arrow took the gnoll in the eye, its body going limp and crashing to the ground below. A thunk sounded next to his head as a spray of wood chips cut across his face. The remaining scout below drew back on its bow, aiming up at him as another pulled its bow, gaze fixed on where Heath perched precariously. 
Heath pulled himself around the trunk, drawing two arrows as he did, loosing them in quick succession as he repositioned. He heard a yelp as his arrows found their mark. The sound of more arrows impacting the tree around him forced another rushed shot before Heath dropped down. His arrows had forced the gnolls from cover, giving him time to reach the ground. He dropped, almost losing his footing as a fiery pain lanced through his leg. He looked down, a dark stain around the split cloth, blood already flowing from the wound. 
Gritting his teeth, Heath pulled himself behind the tree, his back to the rocky cliff face. He drew another two arrows, readying one against his bowstring. The sounds of the clash resounded below, but he ducked from behind his cover, focused on the two archers. His first shot carved through the underbrush, forcing the crouched gnoll to leap back. Before it landed, Heath’s second arrow took it under the jaw, crimson staining its fur as a strangled yelp was cut short. 
Without looking, Heath dropped to his uninjured leg, sliding the rest of the way down the cliffside. Stumbling at the bottom, but bracing himself on one knee, he drew back another shot. Above, the snarling face of the gnoll emerged, searching for its prey. Heath’s arrow sprouted from its chest. The gnoll’s jaws snapped, and it drew back an arrow of its own, sending it whistling past Heath’s ear. 
Cursing, Heath sent two more arrows, both impacting lightly, caught in either the matted fur or thick muscle of the gnoll, neither lethal. Another arrow cut the air above Heath as he ducked to the side. His teeth bared in determination, he pulled another arrow. Breathing out, he waited for the gnoll to reach for his own, and sent the arrow on its way. It carved its path, impacting next to the first arrow Heath had fired, cutting deep into the flesh beneath the gnoll’s collarbone. 
The gnoll staggered back as fresh blood poured from the wound. It bared its teeth, again reaching back for an arrow to send as an answer. A crack cut through the air as a burst of arcane energy slammed into the beast, and it tumbled backwards, chest smoking. 
Heath spun, his hands already reaching for another arrow. Svrcina gave him a curt nod before turning, spinning her scythe in a wide flourish. Heath saw Nambu standing tall, pulling his spear back from the gut of the gnoll in front of him. 
It was the two massive figures in the center of the clearing, however, that pulled his focus. Iden stood facing down the pack leader, the massive gnoll towering over the tall knight. Blood marked both figures, but neither relented, neither gave an inch. Iden landed two blows, deep cuts with his axes, but the gnoll just roared in its bloodlust, advancing and swinging its flail as it burned with red energy. 
Heath saw Nambu turn his spear in the ground, and extend his hand towards the two clashing figures. Tendrils of grey magic drifted from his hand, then struck forward as it clung to the gnoll. 
“Now!” The bugbear shouted.
A wordless roar erupted from Iden as his axes began to burn with a searing white flame. A massive kick forced the gnoll back and Iden slammed both axes down into the beast. A crack of divine energy preceded the blinding flash that filled the clearing as the newfound magic of Nambu’s faith met the unrelenting fury of Iden’s retribution. 

Looking across the bloodied bodies, Heath’s exhaustion hit him as the burning in his leg pulsed again. He slumped to the ground, biting back a groan. The arrow was likely poisoned, but as a moment passed, the burning sensation didn’t worry him. It still hurt, burning like hot iron, but Heath knew the pain was localized. And it still hurt. That’s a good sign, he thought grimly. No other sensations followed, no spread of the pain, no numbness. 
He forced his mind to focus, clawing beyond the pain. He focused on his companions, where they were. Who he was. It was all there. No cloudiness in his mind, no soft dulling of his senses. He almost laughed, the simple poison burning in his leg would almost be humorous if it didn’t hurt so much. He leaned back heavily against a tree, forcing his eyes open as he saw the others moving among the bodies. 
Heath caught Svrcina watching him with a curious look. He forced the grimace from his face and gave a small shake of his head, indicating he was fine. Enough confirmation for her, she turned back to the bodies scattered around the clearing. 
Nambu strode forward, regarding the recent carnage around him. He nudged a body, cocking his head to the side. “This should be all of them,” he said confidently after a moment. “A dozen and their leader. The villagers of Valenwood saw no more than a few at a time. This many in a group, they would have split into hunting bands and raided more brazenly if there were any more. Gnolls travel in packs over distance, and considering Valenwood still stands, there isn’t a larger force somewhere.”
Heath cracked an eye open, looking to the others to see if anyone refuted Nambu’s optimistic outlook. None did.
The tall bugbear gestured to the massive gnoll that Iden roughly turned over. “That one, their leader. I’ve heard of gnolls such as that, called flinds. Larger, more fell, and twisted in nature. If there are others, scouts or other survivors, they will flee following that one’s death.”
“Does that mean we’re done?” Svrcina asked as she dismissed the curved blade of her scythe, only the staff remaining. 
“Yes, I think we are,” Nambu said, a touch of relief entering his voice. “Valenwood is safe for now, and we can return to Aleria. We can rest up, sleep back at camp, and be home before sunset on the morrow.”
One by one the others quickly set about binding wounds, cleaning weapons, and scavenging whatever spoils might have been of value from the blooded bodies of the gnolls. Heath stayed where he had collapsed, breathing slowly as the pulse of pain coursed through his leg. 
It must have been a minute before he saw Kriv watching him as he pocketed a pouch of coins gathered from the gnolls, a grim expression on his features as he watched the ranger. Too exhausted to care, Heath closed his eyes to wait until the group reconvened, the pain in his leg thrumming its aching chords. 

That night they all sat quietly around a fire back at their camp. The horses quietly wickered nearby as the crackling fire brought both warmth and comfort. The poison in Heath’s leg had worn itself out, only the dull ache of the fresh wound lingered. Nambu had knit the flesh back together with a healing spell and it had been bound in clean bandages. 
As the group ate in silence and settled in for the night, Heath watched the lanky bugbear carefully. He saw the cautionary tale in Nambu’s actions and in his silence. He also saw naivete in his new ease.
In the days following the battle at Valenwood, Svrcina had told Heath more about Nambu’s story, and pieces that he had shared with them while a captive. Stories about his time during the War for Vengeance. Stories about how he had become the Bloodbeast. 
Nambu was a soldier under the Alerian banner, but unlike Cassian, he had not fought in a conventional sense. He had belonged to a strike force known as the Obsidians, and their methods were brutally effective. Sent out as raiders, disruptors, and saboteurs, they ranged deep behind enemy lines to create havoc and terror. They fought a ruthless campaign seen by many to be necessary but dishonorable, and many died in their desperate efforts to grant even the slightest advantage to the outnumbered Alerian army. Nambu was one of their officers, and likely saw dozens of his companions and subordinates perish as they carried out their bloody campaign. He earned a reputation for ruthlessness and the moniker of Bloodbeast during the height of the conflict. The efforts of the Obsidians were one piece of why victory on the Bloodied Plains was finally achieved, and the War for Vengeance would eventually end. 
Yet when the war ended and victory was celebrated, the Obsidians were dismissed and discarded. Traditional soldiers were celebrated and the unsavory efforts of shock troops and raiders were ignored, or worse, condemned. The Obsidians were disbanded and their numbers scattered, with many forced to turn to mercenary work. Those who found no work instead turned to banditry. While Nambu found a place within the guild networks of Aleria, another took the name of the Bloodbeast and used it to rally brutal brigands together.
The truth of who the Obsidians had been and the legacy of the Bloodbeast’s name hadn’t tempered Heath’s lingering fury that had carried him through the woods at Valenwood. While he might have felt pity for what had happened to the men and women who had been cast aside by Aleria, their actions had earned them their fate. Blood had been met with blood, and Heath had wielded the blade to bring their reign of terror to a terrible, final end.
As Heath watched the shadows play across Nambu’s impassive face, he felt a wave of simmering anger rise in his chest. Nambu had lived a hard life, he had done terrible things. No more so than others, and he had paid a price for it. That much was clear. His time at war had left its scars, and the weight of what the Bloodbeast had wrought at Valenwood had only just seemed to be lifting. But Heath’s anger wasn’t at any of that, it was at Nambu’s naivete. 
It was his belief that he could have gotten away with a normal life after what he had done, what he had left undone at the end of the war. The arrogance that after all that had been done during the war, that eventually something or someone wouldn’t come to collect. A declaration of victory does not wipe clean the accounts that were tallied to achieve it. Some things do not just get forgiven, even if they are not ever laid bare in the light, there shall always be an atonement, a final judgment rendered. 
As Heath retreated deeper into himself in the gathering night, he held onto his anger as he knew it was a mirror to the anger he felt towards himself. He knew his own sins, and he knew his own judgment would come. When it finally caught up with him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide from the sentence he had earned. 
And by the time it came due, he might just be tired enough of running to let it take him and be done with it.