Closed Unsavory Assault (Inoadar)

[Amolina]

Continued from Cutting Corners
Timestamp: Day 25 of Winter 513 AV at around 18 bells, early evening

After the shocking events in the Healing Hand Amolina had went home to her NHC flat in order to just be alone and compose herself, instead of going to the Nitrozian-Moletta project location and organize information about the test objects. But now she was here and planning to get some of it done. When the ravonsala arrived at the stop nearby she jumped onto the platform, walked over to the house and opened the door.

She wasn’t working as nurse this day and was still dressed in her violet silk dress and Xavier’s cloak, just like when she had been in the Healing Hand. But when she had been at home she had thought about the unsavory thug and felt she wanted to bring her dagger, which she normally nearly never did. But the scare earlier in the day made her wary.

She had expected to spend the evening alone with her boring mountain of paper work, which was very far from the exiting things she had believed research was about. But no, now when she was stuck in this, Valerius had revealed to her that a very big part of science was to gather, compile, organize and analyze information.

The faint sounds of lab work told her she wasn’t alone there though. But she wasn’t going to disturb whoever it was. It could be Valerius, but lab work this time at the day - or evening - made her guess it was Nolan Parnell. And she didn’t want to speak about the trouble they had been in earlier in the day, not now. She decided to be completely silent.

It was actually a bit chilly in the lobby and office room. Or she felt cold after the ravonsala trip there. Whichever, she decided to keep the warm and cosy cloak on. She sat down at the desk and took a pile of parchment slips she had sorted out the previous day and was now going to process a bit more. She started with one slip, controlled that the content was completed and likely correct, then she put it in a box marked “checked and correct”. She took the next slip, read it and saw that there were things that needed to be clarified, so she put it in another box, named “clarify”. Then she proceeded to the other slips of parchments, putting slip after slip in the correct box.

She really hated this part of the job. Organizing information was nothing for an actress, but she did it all the same, because she wasn’t able to do anything in the lab - yet. Just wait, she thought. “ One of those days…!” she exclaimed aloud, forgetting to stay silent.

The lab, oh yes, the lab. She heard steps and the door to the lab opened. Petch. She had made noise and now her colleague had realized she was there. And the tick he came out through the lab door and walked over to her desk she knew something was amiss…there was something in the way he was looking at her, something in the way he walked.

It was perhaps determination.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

Inoadar thought he'd heard the rusting of paper. Then when he heard Amolina's voice he knew the time was right. There was no one else with authority here that tended to work late more than himself. And it was unlikely Amolina would bring someone here for a romantic tryst.

It wasn't as though he worked late at The Station all that frequently, but after the incident at The Healing Hand, he wanted to avoid going straight home. He'd taken a somewhat roundabout way getting here, and had not been here long when he'd felt the ambiance change in the facility. It was a difficult thing to place, just a subtle change in the acoustics due to different doors being opened and closed.

But her vague complaint was unmistakable. Inoadar left off the notations he'd been making and walked into the office to see her going through papers. "The phrase is 'one of THESE days', sweetheart..." he walked slowly, enjoying the slow echo of his boot steps as he stepped past her to turn and face her as he leaned on the desk, "...and that day is today."

He folded his arms and scrutinized her for a moment. She was getting better at hiding her feelings, but her reluctance to demand to know why he was interrupting her work made it clear there was something she didn't want to talk about. He took a deep breath and sighed, "Okay, Miss Moletta..." he said, mocking the professional relationship they now had. "...we don't have to enjoy each others' company, but we need to trust each other now. It is time to forget our past frictions. I may not always think of every daily detail that you might wish to know, but if you ask me something, I will either tell you what it is, or I will explain that there IS something, but I must withhold the details. But I would know that you will then speculate on what it is I'm withholding, and that may be a worse complication than telling you right up front."

He pushed himself away from the desk and started to circle around behind her. "I want you to understand that this is what I'M doing right now. I've been spending the last several days thinking you've GOT to be done keeping whatever secret it is you're keeping, and be about to fess up. I think that would be a good idea." He placed his hands on the back of the chair she was sitting in and let her stew in what he assumed was uncertainty.

"I'm sure it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I've had run-ins with a number of people in this town. Not the least of which, you yourself. But not the most, either. I have no doubt that one of these enemies of mine were present at the Healing Hand today, or at least his goons. This does not surprise me all that much. it looks to me as though they have a smuggling operation going on through the place."

He suddenly leaned the chair back, forcing her to look up into his face, his eyes boring into hers. "What DOES surprise me is that you just happen to show up right as I make the discovery and announce my name to them. If not for the fact that they already KNOW my name, I might have considered that a serious betrayal of trust." he snarled as he flung the chair back forward to crash onto all four legs.

"Are you in on it, Amolina? Is this why you pulled that crap on the day we opened this place? I mean, what the Petch was that shyke all about? Barton is not going to let you have anything on him. I did him a huge favor several seasons ago and he's been trying to kill me ever since." Inoadar came around again and looked at her with frank sincerity. "Do you get what I'm telling you? He's going to do the same thing to you. We need to work together to take that bastard down! I don't care if you're in on it. More power TO you. A good smuggling op, already in place, would be as much a boon to US as to him."

He took another deep breath and exhaled it. "Now if you want to keep this secret of yours, I won't try to force it out of you. But I want you to know what my speculation is, and I want you to consider what such speculation could lead to."

x

[Amolina]

Nolan Parnell had folded his arms and stared at her, circled around, suddenly grabbed the back of her chair and leaned it back, then let it crash down on its four legs again. All the time while he did this, he had been speaking about how he thought Amolina was in league with an enemy of his named Barton, the supposed brain behind the medicine fraud at the Healing Hand. He topped it off by telling her this was what it boiled down to for him and she ought to consider the consequences.

All this happened quickly. But it felt like it took long time. When Parnell had reached the end of this treatment she trusted him like a minnow trusts a shark. Her motivation to confide in him and tell him anything whatsoever outside his own imagination had been zero, but now was less than zero. Being called ‘sweetheart’ as part of the aggressive process didn’t make her feel any better about it.

Her usual strategy for coping with people that were stronger than her kicked in. She wasn’t going to stand her ground of course - instead she gave in and admitted everything she was accused of no matter it wasn’t true, just like she had done when Clyde Sullins had put pressure on her. Also, Parnell seemed like he wasn’t going to mess with her if she told him everything and changed sides, worked together with him against the unknown Barton. This made it even easier to take the easiest way out.

She confirmed everything he had told her. “I ought to have realized you would figure it all out” she said. “I was blackmailed. Somehow he knew about how I had ran from the stryfe that evening in fall, and the dead ravonsalaman - he said he’d hand me in to the stryfe if I didn’t cooperate with him. But I don’t even know what he’s up to yet. I don’t know anything more. He didn’t tell me.”

Amolina said this with all the sincerity of a person telling the truth, nothing else than the truth and the full truth. She might not have mentioned any name, but everything she said was true, so true. It was Ravokian truth at its best.

Truth is Betrayal. The thought arose in her consciousness, and filled her with a feeling of ultimate truth. Parnell had asked for this and he had gotten his wish. He had speculated and made up his very own truth and she had simply let him go on believing it, the same way she had once let Clyde go on believing in his own ideas about her and what she was up to. Intelligent men wanted to be right, and the easy way to cope with it was to say they were right. Simple as that.

“You were right, Parnell” she said in a defeated tone.

She would leave now. It was always good to leave in situations like this one. In order to distract Parnell a bit and give her room for ending the conversation she took the small box marked ‘Salailana’ out of her cloak pocket and tossed it to him. “Have a look at this one, it’s from the Healing Hand”. She made it sound like it was utterly intriguing and important.

While Parnell looked at the box for a few ticks and seemed to read on it, she took the opportunity to swiftly walk to the door. She told him she was going home to think, then went out. She didn’t run exactly, but she walked very quickly along the walkway.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

Inoadar felt a surge of an unfamiliar emotion, sympathy. And relief. He was glad Amolina was not clinging to some stubborn refusal to admit to the trouble facing her. Facing all three of them, Valerius as well. He had promised to stop Barton, and he supposed Amolina was now counting on him to come up with something. He looked at the box she had given him. It was marked "Salialana", but did not have the additional markings that indicated having been switched with Halbriar. This alone made it imperative that it NOT be opened.

"Hang on a minute, I need to put this somewhere secure, then we can talk about how we will handle Mr. Barton." She said something about going home and he absently told her to wait. His thoughts were running ahead of him and he did not stop to hear if Amolina responded to his comment. He naturally assumed she was overcome with relief that he would be stepping in to rescue her. Of course, he was not doing it for her, she was simply a catalyst for his poetic justice. 'The very dupe he turns to use against us will be the crux of his own downfall.' he sneered to himself.

He went back to the lab room and opened one of the cabinets. Right now, he could use one of Barton's furnishings with concealed compartments. But He and Amolina both knew not to touch this package, it was only Valerius with whom he need concern himself. And Valerius would not mess with his chemicals. 'But what if some patient should get ideas...start looking around for items to steal. Or maybe Barton will send an agent, under guise of illness, and ransack the place.' It was always safest to assume the same levels of deceit and trickery from your enemies as one would engage in themselves.

He spent a few chimes giving thought to a series of possible places to hide it, but there was always some complication. It was of paramount importance that the box show no tampering that might put its pristine condition in question. Every notion he had for a good hiding place involved something that would undermine this. At least as far as the NMSS went. It would be best for now to just lock it up and take it back to either Tarsin's or Ino Vations. He shrugged and locked it in the cabinet with his other herbs and went to go plan some strategy with Amolina.

She was gone. Inoadar stood stupidly for a few moments before calling her name as he went from room to room. He even went so far as to voice apologies for his previous anger and explained that he only wanted to solve her problem and had been frustrated. In a flash of alarm he realized she had left. The timing gave him a sinking feeling. 'Why would she admit the trouble only to run out just as I try to help.'

Then it dawned on him. She had handed over the box out of necessity to put him off guard. She knew it was important and knew that he would realize this. She was on her way to warn Barton that she'd had to give it up. Barton would turn the tables on him and turn HIM in as the smuggler! He ran back and grabbed the box, leaving the cabinet standing open. Rage fueled his haste and he was out the door in moments.

x

[Amolina]

Amolina walked on at high speed, aiming for the nearest ravonsala stop. Her plan was simply to jump into the next boat and go home, just like she had said. She had left the research location because she wanted to avoid further questioning by Parnell and because she didn’t want to get involved in his personal vendettas with the unknown Barton. She was also pretty upset now when she allowed herself to fully take in what the poison maker had said to her.

Serious betrayal of “trust” ! How could he even think of using those words! Trust - the mere word upset her to no end. In an irrational way she wasn’t able to understand it made her feel sick. Simply sick. It made her think of the mage Clyde Sullins and how he had told her to be straightforward and honest, like he didn’t understand reality one bit. Trust, truth, honesty and straightforwardness ! It made her feel like she was asked to agree to being tortured, maimed and killed.

It had been a petch of a day. First the events in the Healing Hand, then the confrontation with Parnell and his speculations. It had been convincing when she had told him about the blackmailing, but now she regretted it - she felt she had allowed him to push her a bit too far and made her tell him a tad too much. Right then it had seemed so best to sound extremely sincere. But now she felt scared of what would happen if Parnell found out she hadn’t been in league with Barton after all. What if he digged deeper into her business and found out about Xavier ?

There was of course the option to tell him the full truth. But she hadn’t been ready to do that - her “betrayal of trust” as he had called it, was far more serious than being involved in a smuggling operation without telling Parnell about it. She had taken on to leak information about a project not only Parnell but also Valerius Nitrozian had invested lots of money in - in Valerius case also lots of personal prestige and his family name.

Tell them and ask for help? She winced at the thought. She wasn’t important to the research project and her partners knew it, so the easiest way out would be to make her disappear. Simply. She had no unique knowledge, or any knowledge at all of use. If she “disappeared” they would be able to go on without her. For all she knew they could already be going on without her, as she didn’t understand their scientific discussions. There could very well be more projects going on than she knew.

It seemed easier to deal with Xavier. He had appreciated her talent for acting, worded his threats like a business deal, given her a luxurious warm cloak as first payment, promised her more benefits and perhaps also showed in practice that he was able to protect her. If it had been him that day at the execution - which she wasn’t sure of but suspected - he had already kept her safe from the crowd and the stryfe alike. It seemed better to tell him she had nearly been outed and ask him to tell her what to say if she was put under more pressure.

Besides...another stream of consciousness beneath these throughts...a memory of how they stood outside the NHC complex and how she asked to get her papers back and how Xavier handed her the papers - the silence and the gesture rested in her awareness without words.

She reached the stop, but no ravonsalas were in sight. She changed her mind and decided to walk instead. It was long way, but it was still early in the evening and she could need a good long walk. Walking on past the ravonsala stop, she turned into a calm, deserted side walkway along a canal between silent, beautiful, well maintained houses. The atmosphere was peaceful. The well ordered beauty of the surroundings was soothing.

And she wasn’t going home after all, she was going to the Silver Sliver for one of her rare chats with Jeb. Not that it would be nice. He would say lots of irritating things to her and insist on giving her lemonade and she would remember why she so seldom came there. She knew this, but she was going there anyway. Another meaningless conflict with Jeb about petty things not worth arguing over yet always guaranteed to be brought up - this would give her a feeling of solidity. She could trust this clash to happen, like it always did.

Amolina had already started to rant in her mind about how annoying it was that Jeb nagged about her settling down with some uncomplicated fisherman instead of “fooling around”. And in her imagination she was already saying “You’re not my father Jeb”.

She was totally unprepared when the bulky, unsavory looking man she had seen at the Healing Hand stepped out from a small side alley in front of her and blocked her way. The moment she recognized him and met his cold and determined gaze she knew it wasn’t a coincidence, not at all.

Parnells “speculations” about that Barton started to make sense to her now…but too late.

Instinctively she turned around to run, but found her way back blocked by another thug. The second thug wasn’t as bulky as the first one, but taller, and definitely as shabby. She was trapped between them. They were silent in a special and ominous way. Then the taller man in front of her reached out and grabbed her left arm, without a word. Panic…but she couldn’t afford panic so she quenched it. Her brain worked with the speed of desperation and before she knew it she was already acting and speaking : “Barton will have your heads if you botch this up you fools!” she hissed. “Let go of me! Get out of my way!”

It was pure gambling, as she couldn’t know if they even were working with this Barton.

She acted with all the expertise she was able to muster. She could only hope her idea of a tough criminal woman in league with this Barton would be reasonably convincing. She was far from sure the ruse would work. But if the thugs were just a little bit thick and she managed to confuse them, it might give her more time to think, even if it would only be a few chimes. Her right hand went into cloak pocket and found the dagger. Sadly, her experience at using it was limited to playing dart.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

He had been angry and wary after the incident at The Healing Hand, so he'd come ready for action when he came to the NMSS, hoping to confront Amolina. Thinking he might still have thugs out looking for him, he was in his mail shirt under his dark cottons, all beneath his Nettle Cloak. And he had his dart bracer and cane/blowgun/stiletto in hand as he stepped out into the night to pursue Amolina.

He thought briefly of taking a whiff of 'Intellect Mist' to empower his mind, but no, she had said she was going home. He knew she could have been lying, but he somehow doubted it. Or at least doubted it to be a scheming sort of lie. It depended on how far-reaching the scheme was. He could imagine the whole thing being a set-up. Barton knew that Inoadar had gotten his ledger. He had to consider the likelihood that Inoadar would figure out the connection to the Healing Hand eventually.

Had the scene at the Healing Hand been deliberate? If that was the case, then Barton must have had this contingency plan in place for some time, because they couldn't know just exactly when Inoadar would make that connection. Did it add up? A spotter could have seen him on his way there and given a signal. A relay signal could have then been sent to dispatch Amolina to mark him for back-up goons.

But it didn't quite work. It was Ebonstryfe that had chased him, not nameless hoods. There had only been the one thug and Amolina. He grimaced in frustration. There were mitigating circumstances he could imagine, but they would have all required some degree of haste or delay to ensure he was in place to be taken down. Barton's last attempt had been FAR more well-conceived. It was only the coincidence that he and Wrenmae knew each other that allowed him to slip out of that trap.

He arrived at the Ravosala platform to find it empty. There was a boat approaching, so he knew he had not just missed one with Amolina on it. This meant she must be on foot! He dismissed his previous train of thought. To answer his own question, it did NOT add up. He could easily think of a half dozen simple tactics he could have employed almost unthinkingly that would have guaranteed his target would have been stuck and outnumbered.

Well, the focus right now was to find Amolina. He waved the boatman over and asked if he could make a small diversion. Surely Amolina would not be so foolish as to go home. Either because it would be watched. Or because she had to meet some agent of Barton's. And if THAT was the case, then HIS man would know better.

In a flash of insight, Inoadar asked the boatman to go to the theater area. That would be a sensible spot for a meeting. Lots of odd dress and behavior, always the excuse that 'we're acting out a scene in a play' to account for anything. And she surely had friends there.

The boatman required twenty gold mizas' worth of "encouragement" to divert from his normal route. Inoadar did not begrudge this exchange. He spent quite a bit on bribes and considered every copper well spent. It was largely the benefits of these bribes that resulted in the money that he tossed around so willingly. 'Easy come, easy go.'

But they never got so far as the theater district anyway. After a half dozen side trips down irregular canals, Inoadar saw the hood that had been at the Healing Hand. He ducked down and gave a signal to the boatman to stop at the next platform. He got out and made his shadowy way in pursuing surveillance of the man. This was even better than finding Amolina! The only reason for that would have been to convince her to arrange this very sort of set-up.

He saw the man give a signal to a cohort at the other end of a building. There were no targets between them that Inoadar could see so he assumed they were intending to trap someone in the alley on the other side of the building. He crept toward the man as, sure enough, they moved down the opposite sides of the building and slipped into the far alley from both ends.

As Inoadar hurried to get to where he could watch unnoticed he twisted his cane apart to avail himself of the blowgun portion, while slipping a dart of Pillowsap into the mouthpiece. He eased himself around the corner and stopped, his mouth momentarily agape. It was Amolina!

NOW she would see he was on the level. He knew she had good reason not to trust him. He also knew this was no longer the case. He would show her not only that his judgment regarding Barton had been sound, but that even after siding with his enemy, he still backed her up. Saved her ass, even! They could still go on disliking each other. That was beside the point. They were partners now and she had him on her side. This one transgression he would forgive in the interest of future harmony.

Anticipation of several levels of vindication and vengeance brought a sadistic grin to his face as he set the blowgun to his lips, lined up the back of the man closest to him and blew.

x

[Amolina]

The thugs hesitated and looked at each other, and the taller said; “Nobody said anything about …” He was still holding Amolina’s arm in a firm grip. She tried to use that moment of insecurity to free herself but didn’t succeed. The man was clearly waiting for orders from the bulky thug, who seemed to be the leader.

“Barton doesn’t tell you everything” Amolina said in an aggressive and haughty tone. “He will …”

But her respite was already over. Though she had acted for all she was worth it hadn’t made the bulky thug change his plans. It wasn’t like he seemed to be fooled. But he sounded like the kind of man who simply carries out his orders literally and without questioning them and without debate. “He told me to get both of them” he said harsly, speaking to the tall thug and ignoring Amolina totally. “And he left it up to me to decide how to go about it.” He grinned: “So let’s have some fun before we kill her !”

Amolina realized she didn’t stand a chance to speak herself out of this. It could have been possible with the tall one, who seemed to know very little, and seemed to not have met Barton personally. But she wouldn't get anywhere with the bulky thug - an unstoppable “I have my orders” kind of man.

There was no doubt about what “have some fun” meant…the taller thug pulled at her arm and yanked her closer, trying to grab her right arm as well. But Amolina desperately drew her own dagger, lashed out with it and tried to hit the hand that held her. The tip of the dagger scratched over the back of the tall thugs hand and drew blood. He swore loudly and yanked at her violently - and her dagger continued to her own arm and cut into it before she had time to stop it. A dark stain started to spread on the violet silk of the sleeve.

The pain and the fear made her bolt again, just in time to make the tall man’s fist miss her head and slam into the front of her shoulder instead. She would have screamed if she had had time and air to do it, but as it was she just breathed hard and gave a low moan that was completely ineffective when it came to drawing attention and calling for help. She dropped the dagger and it fell on the pavement with a low clinking sound.

The man’s fist slammed into her midriff and she doubled over, groggy, breathless, stunned by the pain, half unable to think.Her knees were buckling and she was going down. The tall thug held on to her arm, dropping down on one knee, and started to tear at the skirt of her dress. A repulsive stench of sweat and dirt nauseated her as he leaned over her, moving closer. She heard the bulky thug laugh and saw him approach. It all seemed to happen slowly, very slowly, but she knew everything was happening very fast and soon…soon… her thoughts had gone incoherent and all she knew was that she didn’t want to die, here, now, like this.

This was when the Ebonstryfe ought to intervene and save the day, if it had been a theater play or a story. But alas, this wasn’t a play and the stryfe didn’t patrol right here right now. She was all alone against the two thugs, completely alone, didn’t stand a chance. It wouldn’t help her to act or beg. People that are just like mindless tools and don’t listen can’t be persuaded or fooled. All her usual ways to save herself were worthless, and she had no others. Yet she resisted, fighting for a few ticks more, if it could be called fighting. She felt limp and feeble, like all power had left her body.

The well maintained, elegant houses’ windows towards the canal and the walkway were empty. For a moment everythihg seemed completely silent and deserted, like she and the two attcker were the only peoople left in the whole world…but then there was a small silent thud sound. The bulky thug gave a shout, then hissed a few words again: shyke and petch and something more. Our of the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen for a tick, then spin around to look behind him…her gaze follow his movement and saw the lean form of another man appear, like a shadow out of the deeper shadows in the side alley.

She recognized the newcomer: it was Nolan Parnell.

It was hard to say why, but the insight seemed to blow new energy into Amolina. She bolted and bashed her head into the chest of the thug who had by now managed to pull the skirt up over her knees and had been about to move down over her… he had been distracted by the bulky thugs sudden exclamation and hadn’t been prepared, so she made him lose his balance a little bit and fall to the side. Blindly like a trapped animal she followed, sinking her teeth into his hand that was still clenched around her injured left arm. She fumbled around helplessly with her right hand in the vain hope of finding the lost dagger again. As her knees had been “freed” from the skirt, she pushed one of them up as hard as she was able, but though the knee connected with something it didn’t hit the intended place.

The thug growled something and his free hand lashed out for her...

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

The thug spun toward Inoadar, his face registering alarm at the realization of the blowgun. Inoadar held up a vial with a smile. "Let the woman go and I give you the antidote, buckle-breath."

The thug was having no part of any negotiation. He cursed and charged Inoadar, who put on an expression of alarm, but had hoped for that exact reaction. His acting and brawling skills were used more to put on a convincing display of being quickly overpowered. He let himself take a few blows, but both he and the thug were more focused on having the thug get the vial away from him.

The thug loomed over him laughing in triumph and downed the vial as Inoadar got to his feet. He didn't bother to wait for the effects of two full doses of Dark Reaving to take effect on the criminal. Instead he turned and bolted in Amolina's direction, with the thug starting behind him in pursuit.

The man started to stagger sleepily from the effects of the Pillowsap. "Hey, what's happening? You said this was an antidote!" fear began to fill his voice.

Inoadar sneered, "Yeah, an antidote for your life, jackass!" He ignored the growing sounds of panicked choking and shrieks of agonized convulsions behind him as he converged on the man fighting with Amolina. 'They always fall for it.' he laughed to himself.

x

[Amolina]

Amolina had temporarily delayed the thug and won a few ticks more, but the thug was a much stronger and more skilled fighter and she was fighting a lost fight. The tall thugs left hand found her hair and grabbed it. He tried to slam her head into the pavement, but quite inefficiently, as he was still holding on to her arm with the hand she was biting at. It still hit her hard enough to make her stop biting and leave his right hand free again.

Swearing and growling in anger and pain the thug finally let go of her arm and pinned her down under him. She heard him hiss something that contained the word “…gonna die, you pethcing… ” while he grabbed her head with both hands and pulled it up, in order to be able to slam it into the stone pavement with more force this time.

Time seemed frozen. She gazed at the thugs face, a mask of rage, and looked into his furious eyes. All she saw there was death, her own death. There was absolutely no way she could protect herself against what was about to come. Amolina went still. She had time to think in an unnaturally cold and detached way, like her soul was already preparing to be on it’s way from the body: “Now it’s over, this is the end …”

She felt the pull upwards reach it’s peak and rest there only for a fraction of a tick, in that ever so slight delay between a movement and another when the thug was about to put all his considerable strength into slamming her head down … and then an indescribably agonized scream pierced the air. Amolina wasn’t able to see what he reacted to, but she could feel that the tall thug lost some of his momentum and focus, and when he slammed her down it was like in a sudden great hurry, like he just wanted to drop her and get rid of her as fast as possible and didn’t have time to give full attention to killing her…

The thugs weight was gone from her. The agonized screams went on. And she heard other sounds. But it was like she was outside, somewhere else, watching from afar and not caring.

Amolina had hit the pavement, but not hard enough to crush her skull, which the thug originally had been aiming for. She felt pain and then an odd dizziness, like being half asleep. Though she was conscious and aware she felt a numb and underwater kind of feeling roll through her like a wave, like in a dream. And as in a dream her hand went to her chest and neck like she expected to find something to hold on to, a necklace, a sign, a living heart.

There was a silent memory of a word in her blurred and dreamy mind, beating at heartpace, hearable only to her : “…you…ou…u…u…u…u...U...U...U...U...”

[Inoadar]

Inoadar

It was odd that he felt such desperation to save Amolina. But he did not try to qualify it or dismiss it. It was what it was. He knew he truly wanted to save her. After all the animosity and outright threats they had traded, she had still saved him in the Ravosala against that independent boatman. There had been some selfish motivations, sure, but it would have been far more understandable, to his way of thinking, that she should have jumped from the boat and left him to die.

Now they were partners. And now she was finding out that Barton truly was the treacherous bastard he had told her. He didn't apply much thought to the fact that it suddenly mattered to him what she thought. He'd have denied that it was the fact that it was her in particular. No, he told himself he just wanted someone...anyone...to know that he was not exaggerating. It just happened to be her...yeah, that was all.

He'd hoped that the choking screams coming from the man's cohort might mask his approaching steps. But the man looked his way in time to adjust his position to gain that last quarter of a second he needed to whip Amolina's head back into the alley stones before Inoadar crashed into him.

Rage and sudden concern for Amolina fueled Inoadar's fury as pain and defensive postures were forgotten. He was all fists and knees, his elbows finding the man's throat, his forehead knocking the man's nose out of position with a sickening crunch and a howl of pain. The man's return blows were less than fully effective against Inoadar's mail shirt, and the one time he got his arm around Inoadar's throat, a quick twitch brought the spikes from the collar of the Nettle Cloak springing forth to pierce the man's arm and deposit a dose of Bloodroot into his bloodstream.

Time became uncertain as the exertion and pain from the blows he'd taken caught up to Inoadar. He found himself spending as much energy holding the sagging figure of his adversary up as he was slamming his fist into the man's cheek and gut. One last deep breath, one last shove of the enemy's face down into his own rising knee, and he collapsed in a battered heap.

Pain and numbness dominated every part of his torso, and exhaustion nearly disabled every extremity, but his opponent was down and out, completely vulnerable. It suddenly occurred to him that he might have killed the man, and that he wanted him alive.

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