Chapter 442 The Classic Old Dwarvish Bait

Elero's scarred legs lay folded beneath the murky floodwater as she knelt next to Kilot. She held his wrinkled hand, looking as defeated and pathetic as the day she met Doevm, when she was still trapped within her cage-like braces, one of many creations invented by the man she now wept over. "I can't do anything…for him," she muttered to herself, her grip on Kilot's hand tightening.

Doevm and Frey circled the crowd to get a better view of Kilot.

Kilot lay on a section of stone which the quake had kindly raised above the water level, protruding out of the street just like the bulge under Kilot's neckline, which shined a faint, arcane blue. Doevm half-expected for the stubborn Dwarf to suddenly sit up and mutter a sarcastic remark at the onlookers like "I'll only sleep when I'm dead" or "I'm just sleeping. This ain't a show", however it seemed that even Kilot couldn't resist as his naturally asshole-ish demeanor crumbled, giving way to a peaceful, elderly expression as he took in one shallow breath after the other.

Surrounded by the masses, Kilot appeared as if he were waiting for death. The observers were helping as much as trees in a forest, standing there and doing nothing. Doevm expected no less from human bystanders, although he was slightly disappointed by the Dwarves.

Elero was present enough, amidst her internal strife, to single out a tall, lanky man standing off to the side. "You! Go run and get some help!"

The man scratched his scraggly brown hair for a moment then, much to Doevm's surprise, his hazel eyes widened in alarm as if he had been broken out of a trance. The crowd parted for the young man as he took off sprinting down the flooded street, lest the bystander mentality be infected by his present awareness.

Doevm watched the runner's back shrink, distracted by how easily Elero could handle the crowd's sudden, sheep-like, bystander mentality. However, he quickly snapped back to the current situation as, out of the corner of his eye, Frey took a step towards the crowd.

"Stop," Doevm warned as he grabbed the back of Frey's shirt.

Frey turned around with a raised brow, and Doevm let his hand fall to his side. "Aren't we going to help him?" Frey asked, confused

"First of all, what are you going to do, scream at him to wake up?" Doevm asked.

Frey scrunched his lips without a response, and Doevm resisted the urge to facepalm.

"Think before you act," Doevm said. "Do you really think an earthquake could do that amount of damage?" He gestured to the destruction, which seemed localized to Kilot's workshop, then to the in-tact buildings beside it.

Frey shrugged. "So what? We still can't leave him laying there." He took another step towards the crowd. Doevm grabbed onto his shirt again, but Frey kept walking. Doevm's feet uselessly slid through the flood water.

"We can't help him," Doevm hissed.

Frey turned around once again. "We dragged him into this mess. The least you can do is heal him," he said, barely suppressing his annoyance at him.

Doevm narrowed his eyes at him. "I won't repeat myself."

Frey seemed to catch the underlying meaning as he followed Doevm's pull away from the crowd and asked, "What do you mean?"

Doevm sighed. "Kilot has a skeletal arm, remember? Any healing magic will destroy it and worsen his state. The best we can do is bring him back to consciousness so he can heal himself with life essence, but-"

"Great, so let's-" Frey tried to interrupt.

"But we can't do that either," Doevm maintained.

Frey furrowed his brow. "Why?"

Doevm glanced at the crowd. "Because if we go anywhere near him, then he'll be killed."

Frey just stood there, visibly confused. "I don't…what?"

"Look at the surroundings," Doevm hurriedly explained. "There are marks of how Kilot flew: a bloody skid here, a piece of skin there. That isn't the type of force that a minor earthquake can cause, and we both know that Kilot's stronger than that. The building should have been stronger too - it was practically a fortress."

Frey nodded. "It makes sense…so this was an attack?"

Doevm nodded.

Frey paused. "But Kilot survived."

Doevm pat him on the shoulder with a smirk. "And what would you do if your target survived an attack?"

Frey looked at the crowd. "Finish him off…but then Kilot should have died by now. The crowd would have served as enough cover for Kilot's attacker. There's no reason he should be alive."

"Or…" Doevm tossed out another hint.

Frey thought for a few moments, then shrugged. "What?"

Doevm rolled his eyes. "I'd use the injured man to draw out his allies. He's bait."

Frey looked over at the crowd once more, his eyes going from one random face to the next. The crowd stood around Kilot and Elero like sheep, and the wolf among them had dressed the part, waiting for its chance to pounce. One of the masses looked Frey's way and he tore his gaze away, acting as if he were merely curious.

As Frey turned back to Doevm, however, he found that his companion had wandered over to the rubble.

"We need to figure out what happened," Doevm said. "Before the attacker gets impatient."

…

"Quick, help! There is someone else who needs help," yelled out a tall, lanky man as he sprinted down the street. His feet slipped and he fell into the floodwater again and again. He picked himself up and continued forward.

Eventually, a head popped out of a window, a Dwarvish woman in her late stages of life. "Is he close?" she asked.

"Yes, very close," the man huffed. "Come quickly!"

The Dwarven woman stepped out into the street, not caring that the floodwater soaked the bottom of her brown pants and slippers, and she waddled down the street after him with a box of medical supplies in one hand and a bucket in the other.

"What's the situation like?" the woman asked.

"It's that old forge…next to where Shanty's pub used to be," the young man said between gasps of air.

"You mean Kilot's forge?" the woman gasped. "That handsome fellow hasn't been back in ages. Are you sure it's him?"

"I don't know. Is he famous or something?" the man asked.

"Once," the woman said, shaking her head as she ran. "The last time anyone saw him, he was ranting about some fellow named Arthur."

"Who's that?" the man asked.

"No one knows," the woman said. "But-" Her next words never left her throat as she splashed down in the water, limp.

The young man skidded to a stop. As he knelt down to help her up, thinking she had fallen, he spotted a dart in her left shoulder blade. 'What the…'

Two black-gloved hands sprang from a nearby alley, and a cloth pressed itself tightly to the young man's face. He uselessly flailed about the water as his eyes slowly rolled upwards. The attacker's grip didn't even budge. Finally, the man's unconscious body fell limply into the attacker's arms.

The masked assailant dragged both of his victims into a nearby alley, where a smiling, ethereal figure of the goddess gave him a slight nod. "They're just down the path," she said. "I set everything up. Finish it and prove the worth of your alliance."

The figure was confused as to why the goddess didn't finish it herself, but he wasn't paid to ask questions; he was paid for results. He bowed to the figure before it vanished.

Turning to his victims, he expertly pulled the dart out of the woman's shoulder, then dabbed the wound with some powder. The white powder camouflaged itself to the color of the woman's skin as it hid the wound. He uncorked a vile of bubbling, black liquid from his belt, doused its contents onto two arrowtips, then donned his new disguise.

Before he ran out after his target, however, he took out a mirror and examined his facial expression. He needed just the right amount of panic, without over or under expressing his emotions. "I can help," he said at a near scream.

The man cleared his throat and repeated himself a bit quieter. "I can help."

Once more, this time with a shaking voice. "Please, show me where he is. I can help. Give me space. Let me do my work."