A Frigid Grasp - 6. A Kidnapping Gone Wrong

It was mid-morning when Arden woke. When he went down for breakfast, Sven passed him two envelopes. One was a letter from the Duke, expressing his sincerest apologies and a future audience. Another was the permit Arden had left behind that would make his operations valid. Along with that was a note that said they would cover tax charges, seeing as Arden’s space was already owned by Sven, who was on-the-dot with paying taxes. Arden wasn’t sure how legal that was, but he was a bit too strung up to think.

“Guess you’re officially staying.”

“They can always take this back when my time to leave comes. You are aware that winter’s coming.”

“Which makes it doubly stupid for you to leave by then.” Sven was sitting at a table with Arden, glancing at his barkeep every now and then. Sometimes Arden wondered if Sven actually slept. He never saw Sven most of the time in the afternoon, but after his night shift, he’d keep an eye around morning. “I spoke with Roland, you know, about why you refuse to stay around too long.”

Arden stilled and studied him quietly.

“I can help keep the other doctors off your back.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to them,” Arden implored. “Sven, don’t make things messier than they already are.”

“They’re messy enough as it is,” he quipped, taking a huge bite out of his bread. “Ever since you came, people around here flock to you. You’re the healer, the good doctor, and lately the children’s favorite ever since you started volunteer work there. Damal told me all about your trips to the Bonfire.”

Arden tried to hide his smile. His face twitched in an odd way for a split-second. Sven kept quiet as Arden offered his rebuttal. “Anyone could do it if they bothered taking up the mantle. And children are only lovely creatures until they hit eight years old. That’s when they turn into little mongrels of discord.”

Sven guffawed a hearty laugh. When he laughed it was all-out: either full of joy or heavily laced with sarcasm. Those were the only tones Arden heard as of yet. “That may be true! But you’ve been more than just a doctor to these people in lowtown. You don’t have to be the Lord Surgeon of the Keep but you can still stay.”

Arden let that thought stew, staring quietly at his tankard of ale. “I suppose. But the terms of the Lord Surgeon position dictate me to be exclusive to the Keep. I understand the reasoning, but those are terms I don’t think I can accept.”

“Then I hope they find someone to replace you. Maker knows those men need someone to look after them.”

“What do you mean?” Arden asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“You can imagine the trouble they get into, with taking down rebels and smugglers. The last Guard Captain threw his troops left and right like toys. Roland is different. He plays into consideration tactics and the lives of his men. So there have been less casualties, but yes, there are still casualties. Most of the time, they tend to themselves unless it’s something serious.”

“Then I don’t have to change my method of operations,” Arden quipped. “I shouldn’t have run off like I did. I should have discussed it further. Instead, I snapped at the Duke.” Arden realized how silly that was. “I snapped at your Duke, like he was no higher! Do you think I would be jailed for the offense?”

“You were defending us. Hardly something to be sorry for. And you’re right, he wasn’t any higher.” Sven was grinning from ear to ear. “He’s in a position, but that doesn’t make him a better man. You’re a man who looks past statuses, Arden. You don’t know how many people admire and appreciate that. I’m sure the Duke saw that, too. It was just an insensitive moment.”

“Are you acquainted with the Duke?”

“A little.” Sven waggled his eyebrows for added effect. “We talk every now and then.”

That was news to Arden. “I didn’t expect that. I mostly expected shady dealings when it comes to you.”

“It always helps to have friends in high places.”

“Makes me wonder how I became Ambassador and Advisor at one point.” Arden shrugged as he sipped his ale. “But then again, I quit.”

Sven leaned over, curious. “Mind sharing some tales about your days in Bassan and Minoire?”

Arden was about to go into another myriad of excuses when the tavern's doors slammed open. He jerked in his seat and swiveled around, spotting a large man holding a young woman in his arms. “I need the doctor!” he cried.

Arden shot up and gestured the man to follow. His breakfast break was short-lived.

Roland had a lot on his plate after the attempt to make Arden Lord Surgeon fell apart. But after talking to him yesterday, it was for the best. They could find an equally-capable doctor, maybe ones who had a drop in their business lately. His frown deepened. This was medicine they were talking about. It shouldn't be business. Not strictly, anyway. Arden was practically offering charity with his prices. It would be natural for people to flock to him.

The people needed him. He himself had to understand that.

He just wished he could make Arden stay.

“Captain,” a voice called, after three hard knocks. “do you have a moment?”

“Come in, Loghain.” His second lieutenant walked in, a scroll in hand. “What do you have there?”

“Our scouts cleared out a bandit stronghold just outside the city and we had a team confiscate the wares. We found some letters that might concern you.”

Roland's desk was at a good angle, just in front of the window to make use of the natural light. He held up the scroll and read it aloud. “I want that new healer. His methods aren't normal. I personally want to dissect him and see what he knows. Burn this letter lest we be found out. Peace be with you, my brother.”

“It bothered me when I read it,” Loghain added. “We don't have a new healer in the city.”

Roland's eyes swept over the letter again. Something in his head clicked. “We do, for about a month now. And the Seneschal just sent Arden his permit.”

The feverish man was on the spare cot Sven was kind enough to give. Arden was mixing up a small concoction to determine the cause of the woman's fevers. It was apparently the man's wife. The man who carried her was an older man, by around eight years, he figured. The mixture he was making was made from a few herbs and mushrooms, to test if a poisoned mushroom was the cause.

“Are you done yet?”

“I just need to run this small test to determine what poisoned her,” Arden explained as he mixed the putty. “It should narrow down the suspects, anyway.” He walked over to them by the cot and urged the woman to sit up. “This will upset your stomach and make you wretch. The color of the vomit will determine what poisoned you.”

“You couldn't just give her an antidote?”

“One kind of antidote does not work on all poisons,” Arden chided, rubbing some of the mixture on the woman's tongue. “One must be careful or you wind up killing the patient feeding every damn cure available.”

“MAKER!” The woman shuddered and tensed. Arden skilfully pulled out the bucket and the woman yanked it out of his grasp, spewing purple vomit into the decrepit-but-whole container. This lasted for a few minutes before she let out a sigh of relief and threw herself back on the cot, handing Arden the bucket. Her husband moved to stand over him, studying the bucket with him. “Well?”

“Violet. This shade is more than that of what regular poison mushrooms would yield. It either must be a potent poison or magic.”

“Magic?” the man asked.

Arden nodded and looked up. “Yes, magic—“ He froze at the sight of the glinting blade in front of his eyes. He was a little lost for words. “W-what are you...”

“Sorry, boy, but this is all just mighty-right business. Knew you were a good doctor, so we couldn't just fake getting sick. But look here, if you come with us, you'd make yourself useful. You just have to make sure you do it quietly.”

Arden watched as the man fished out something from his pocket, the knife still aimed at his face. He eyed the talisman in confusion, but the man jerked the knife away and shoved the talisman on Arden's chest.

He screamed as pain ripped through his body, convulsing from the shock of that cursed talisman. The shock was gone as sudden as it was there, and Arden had fallen off the cot, gasping for air and struggling to stand upright. A boot stomped down on his back and forced him back on the ground. “Sorry, good doctor, but they're paying me good coin for this.”

Arden felt himself raised by the collar. The man held his jaw tight as his face was held up.

“Such pretty eyes. Odd, but pretty. A pretty boy, aren't you? Maybe the trip to the hideout would be more comfortable with you around.” The bastard's sneer made his skin crawl. He knew that look, knew the man was groping him with his eyes. Then he went very physical with is, leaning closer to whisper dirty nothings to his ear. “Yes, we'll have some fun once we leave the city peacefully. You can scream all you want while I take you like a whore.”

The woman stirred and swore as she sat up. “Maker, Marlowe, do you really want to flirt with the little shit right now? Let's go before the bloody sun sets!”

“How do you think we should go about it, then? Looks like the pretty doctor can hardly move after we used that talisman they gave us.”

“Then drop him out the window! We angled the horse close, remember?”

Arden felt himself thrown over the lug's shoulder and carried to the window. He was half-aware of what they were saying and already, he didn't like it. 'Throw' and 'window' made a coherent thought in his logic train.

He struggled, but his body wouldn't respond. It just made his muscles twitch and spasm ever so slightly. “Aw, poor boy. Don't worry. Daddy's going to make you feel so good tonight. You'll see.”

Arden felt his breakfast churn in his stomach. He didn't want this sick bastard to do as he pleased with him. He gathered what power he could and tried to escape. He tried his magic, but for some reason, he couldn't gather the power to cast any of his spells. That talisman must have done something to his magic.

The loud bang of the door came sooner than expected. The thugs looked back at the door and saw Sven at the doorway, holding a greataxe at his side. He strode closer, a menacing look on his face. Arden barely had the strength to look up, but he knew he was out for blood when he heard that blood-curdling growl. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

The bastard carrying Arden threw him out the window. Arden rolled in the air and landed face-front onto a horse, which started to flail and he fell promptly to the ground. The hag climbed out while her friend and Sven dueled in the small confines of the room. Arden was hurting all over as he tried to crawl away, but the hag hauled him over the horse with little effort. The bitch was stronger than she looked.

There was a cry from far away. The hag looked and saw the guardsmen charging. Stunned for a moment, she kicked her horse's side and abandoned her partner, hoping to escape. People around them were in an uproar, shouting disdain and horror at the entire fiasco. She tried to search for a way to leave the city, but most of the places were too cramped and would slow her down. She made a circle around the lowtown, trying to find an out. But that was her mistake.

The guardsmen had already blocked off the exits and when she made for hightown was surprised to see the row of soldiers waiting for her. She screamed when her rose suddenly rose on two hooves and wailed. She and Arden fell off as the horse fell on its side, an iron bolt sticking out of its leg. She looked up and saw an archer with a crossbow.

Trumped, she decided to play her last card. She pulled out a dagger and drew the half-conscious Arden close, a knife against his neck. “Come any closer and I'll slice his neck open!”

Not again, Arden thought vaguely. He'd been in this position too many times before. And right now, he really was helpless. He was raised onto his feet, and he staggered slightly until the woman hoisted her up against him. How do I work with this?

“One move from any of you and this man will be dead! Now let me through!”

“Arden!” The doctor looked up and saw Roland in front of the line of his men, but he was out of sight as the hag whirled him around, frantic. “Look, you don't have to do this, ma'am. Surrender quietly. Now.”

“You think I'll take your word for it? I spit on you and your kind! Bloody goody two-shoes too high up on their high horse to give a damn! You all make me sick to the core! No, you'll get me out of the city, you will leave me and my prize alone, or else I'll gut him like a fish!”

Arden stood on his feet abruptly, catching the woman off-guard, and stomped on her foot. She cried as he pushed her hand away and grabbed at her wrist. He pressed hard at one spot, forcing her to drop her weapon from pain. Then he pulled her to the side, sending her staggering in front of him before he turned a quarter circle and slammed his elbow on the back of her skull. She fell to the ground, out cold. Arden was panting as he kicked the knife away. Tired, he stepped back as the guardsmen moved in to apprehend her. Arden fell on his arse and tried to keep himself upright, staring at the sky. His head was spinning again.

Roland was in his sight within moments. Seeing the blonde was a massive blessing. He crouched close, and Arden never knew he was so happy to see him, even if he did look piss-scared. “You're not too hurt?”

“Nothing mortal, if that's what you're asking,” Arden quipped. “Check her or her friend in the Siren for a talisman. It silenced my magic.”

Roland nodded, but looked even more displeased. “This definitely has never happened before.” He offered a hand, and Arden took it. The man's strength startled him. He didn't expect to be lifted off the ground so easy. Arden stumbled, but Roland caught him. “Careful.”

“Thank you.” Arden wound up half-carried with Roland's shoulder as he issued orders and they made their way back to the tavern. “I don't understand. I don't think I've offended anyone.”

“Being renown is enough reason, apparently,” Roland muttered. “But we'll talk later. I want to show you something at the barracks after we check what's happened at the Strangled Siren.”

Sven was waiting for them outside when they arrived, and there was blood all over him. When Arden pushed off Roland to check up on him, he raised a hand in defense. “Relax, it isn't mine.”

On cue, Sven's daytime barkeep was wheeling out a wheelbarrow. It was covered with a huge drop of cloth soaked in blood. Arden could vaguely imagine the corpse there. He swallowed hard as the stinking mass of flesh was wheeled away. “I'm so sorry, Sven.”

Sven grunted but glared at Roland. “Us three are going to have a talk in Arden's room. Now.”

Roland felt fear ripple through him. Sven had that talent, to make you keel over without so much as touching you. But Roland, as a warrior, resisted it, to a fault. Now that danger was roughly averted, he was susceptible. Quietly, he and Arden were led back to the room. Sven shut the door and bolted it locked.

“Now, start talking, Roland.”

“My men took down a bandit's camp earlier today,” he began. “We found a letter ordering a doctor's capture. We figured right away it was Arden.”

“How?” the doctor-in-question asked, the worry clear in his voice. “Did it say my name?”

“It said to take the healer. There's a difference between a healer and doctor, as you may know.”

“And I'm the only valid healer in the city,” Arden finished. “Maker, they want my head, but for what?”

“They didn't say, explicitly. They mentioned something about a sacrifice. That's as far as I know.”

“Sacrifice?” Arden's voice quivered with fear. His face shot pale and his eyes were wide with worry. “I'm hardly that different from other mages.”

“Maybe they need a certain kind of mage. We can't say for sure. All we know is that you're in danger, and we need to make sure you stay safe.”

“Staying here won't help,” Sven added. “The fact that we house mercenaries can mean either good or bad for your case. The whole city's pretty aware of you now. We have to move you someplace else, and we're going to have you stop your services for awhile.”

Arden was clearly put off by the thought, but he couldn't really blame them. This kidnapping attempt was serious, but how was he different from other people, other mages? It didn't seem fair or right. What made him special? This wasn't the first time he asked himself this. “Fine, we'll play it your way. How do we go about this, then?”

“We'll play dumb as to your current whereabouts while you try to blend in elsewhere,” Sven proposed. “While our man tries to hunt you down, we'll be hounding for him. Until then, all we can really do is wait. It won't be easy, especially with all the fame you've garnered. But I believe we can pull it off if we give you an alias and a disguise.”

Arden was disliking the plan more and more. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

Roland thought for a moment. “We could have you work for the Valeria house. Lord Rustan Valeria is an old friend of mine and very much in need of an assistant. That would help you hide yourself, I'm sure. He works as an adviser in the council.”

If Arden agreed to this, he would be working closely with the noble family. That might help him investigate who was behind his kidnapping, if the nobles were a part of it, anyway. He smiled to himself. He wanted to dodge politics but now it got him by the balls, and they wouldn't be letting go anytime soon. He'd have to trust Roland's and Sven's judgment. He would hide, for now. But he needed to pass on some of his knowledge to the other doctors, if they would have him. “I'll need to send a few letters, to Tomag and the other doctors. They should at least know my methods before I go into hiding. Whether they use it or not and how they go about it will be up to them.”

“Passing down knowledge already?” Sven inquired, bemused. “I didn't expect you to be so generous.”

Arden dramatically clutched at his chest, feigning disbelief. “Sven, I thought I made all my intentions clear to you. I'm hurt you'd think me selfish!”

Sven snickered and shook his head. “Glad to see you having fun, but back to the matter at hand. So we're all agreed on putting Arden in protection while we hunt down the arses behind this?” Sven grinned even wider when the other two nodded. “Good. I'll let Damal and Antonio know. We'll keep an ear out on the street and see what we can find. Roland, try to learn some things on your own. Get that bitch talking. And Arden, try to see what you can find out. I'm sure working with the nobles might give you some proper feedback.”

“Assuming they're in their right mind,” the doctor shot back dryly, but he was smiling. “I'll do my best. It's my life on the line, after all.”