Chapter 102: A Matter of Perspective

Aerie walked quietly alongside Harrian as the party carried on with its march, having stopped for an hour to root for supplies from the drow, tend to their injuries, and get better acquainted with the new group member. The swashbuckler was hanging back a little from the front to talk to her, leaving Anomen and Jaheira with the map to guide the way. She was grateful, because it helped her considerably to have someone close at hand when they were moving through this hateful place, and the others were either ones she wouldn't want near her for company – like Edwin, the suspicious wizard – or were too busy to pay her too much heed, like Minsc, who took up the rear, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of more drow or dangerous monsters of the Underdark.

The Underdark. When the slaving caravan had first been attacked, she had been hopeful, praying that it was some soldiers or adventurers there to free her. Then, when the intentions of the attackers was proven to not be particularly moral, she had sought out any opportunity to make the most of the chaos and flee as quickly as possible. This had not been a valid option either, when she'd been surrounded by the drow warriors and quickly shackled once again. Trussed up next to the other prisoners of the drow, they had then been pushed hard for several days, sleeping in cover at day, out only at night, until they had reached an entrance to the Underdark, entering this dark, skyless, claustrophobic she couldn't escape.

She still had the bruises from the beatings she'd received when she had first panicked, fear consuming her when they had entered the Underdark, and so she had learnt very quickly to take the fear and push it away, into a small box at the back of her mind where it couldn't erupt, under threat of pain. She had been pushing a lot of fear into that small box lately.

But now she was free, which was a very odd sensation as not much seemed to have changed. True, she wasn't shackled. And the company seemed that much more pleasant. But instead of leaving this hateful place, they were now marching onwards, and to try to find a way to get into the drow city, no less! It both confused and scared her, though she had no choice but to come along with these people.

And they seemed like good people – well, better than the drow, in any case. Aerie knew this wasn't hard, but the treatment she received, being almost automatically treated as an equal, being – guardedly – accepted almost without question, was something she hadn't experienced since being captured by the slavers. Though there were some parts of the group which were distinctly shady.

Harrian, the leader, seemed nice enough. He was still hanging back, talking to her, asking about her past and things about her. Though she could see the tiredness behind his eyes – that same sort of dull ache of pain which she had seen in the eyes of the many slaves she had been imprisoned with over the many, many months – he was still smiling enough in what she suspected was an attempt to raise her spirits, and joking fairly freely. She felt very safe in his company, especially as he was in charge of the group. With a leader who was treating her kindly enough, the group surely wouldn't turn too hostile to her.

Though she hadn't had quite enough time to work all of the others out, she was already getting little ideas. The half-elf at the front, Jaheira, the lightly armoured one who stood with the heavily armoured cleric Anomen, kept giving irritable little glances back in her direction before returning her attention back to the travelling at hand, directing the hapless Helmite instructions as often as she felt was necessary – which, from the irritable glances he threw back at her, was evidently more often than he felt was necessary.

Anomen had tended to her injuries when the party had stopped to recover, and though he had been very polite and gentle when seeing to her, his attention had obviously been elsewhere, as he kept looking over at where the pink-haired mage Imoen and the rather odd but amusing and fairly charming Haer'Dalis had been bickering over a piece of equipment.

Imoen had evidently won, and now wore a rather exquisite suit of elven chain the drow had stolen, passing her magical robe to a gleeful Edwin, whose own garb had been given to Aerie herself, though she had tried to refuse. Harrian had been very firm when insisting she take it, however.

Imoen and Haer'Dalis were a few paces behind the two of them right then, still bickering and jesting together, though there was the odd moment in conversation where only Imoen was speaking, and Aerie had the intense feeling of eyes boring into the back of her neck, probing in an uncomfortable manner which wasn't entirely unpleasant. She had glanced over her shoulder one time for Haer'Dalis's blue – frighteningly blue, looking as if they were made of ice or jewels – eyes to meet hers for a moment, until she blushed and looked back, embarrassed by his attentions. They were quite normal, however, she felt – she was new, an oddity, something for everyone to be curious about.

The one person who wasn't curious about her, and who she was quite glad hadn't shown her any attention, was Edwin. The mage was in front, lingering behind Anomen and Jaheira and occasionally chirping up to give his unwanted and probably very irritating 'helpful' criticism, which usually won him little more than a harsh word from the harsh tongue of the druid. He seemed suspicious, frightening, and a little slimy, in ways – his oily voice and evaluating, piercing glance set Aerie's nerves off, and the less she had to do with him the better.

Harrian caught Aerie's glances around the party as he carried through the story of their adventures. He had already related the direct reason for their being here, through the dungeons of Irenicus to the catacombs of Bodhi – leaving out the soul-stealing, because he didn't want to frighten her. He simply suggested it was a matter of seeking answers and vengeance, and the wingless Avariel – she had indeed told him her own story in turn – seemed to accept this. He had been halfway through relating their adventures north near Baldur's Gate when he'd notice her attention start to drift a little. "I'm starting to bore you, aren't I."

Aerie was jerked out of her reverie, then blushed and brought her focus directly back on to him. "W-what?" Her mind caught up quickly, and her blush deepened. "Oh! No, not at all, Harrian, no… I was just – just thinking. There is… lots to consider."

Harrian nodded slowly. "It must be overwhelming, to be freed so suddenly, though I'm sorry that you're still stuck down here with us. If we could get you to the surface, we would, but it's just not possible right now."

She returned the nod. "I know. I'm just grateful you ran into those horrible drow when you did. If you hadn't… well, I'd probably be in the city already!" She attempted a brave smile, which he returned obligingly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Ah yes, those eyes. Though she had not seen her dear Uncle Quayle since the circus had sold her to those slavers, useless to them as she was with her wings amputated, she could still remember his teachings. He had told her that many people said that the eyes were the windows to a person's soul, and she believed it, seeing the truth in it many times.

Harrian's eyes were a deep brown, and almost disconcerting in their darkness. They would light up, animatedly, when he was amused or enthusiastic, and grow even darker when he was becoming sombre. She had managed to work out whether or not he was being serious or just teasing her on occasions over the past few hours depending on his eyes, and there seemed to be a lot of Harrian's character in those eyes.

That wasn't quite what attracted her attention to them. True, they were intriguing, and almost eerily beautiful, but no, it wasn't that which set her off. What set her off was just how very, very empty they seemed, so very haunted.

Jaheira's voice cut through the line, again jerking them from their joint reveries and moderately ridiculous stares into each others' eyes. "We have reached the cave! Harrian, do you have the gem?"

Harrian's head snapped around to face the druid, and he blinked quickly, still returning to consciousness. "Huh? What?"

"The gem. Do you have it?" Jaheira seemed surprisingly patient as she spoke, but from the way Anomen was sidling away from her, she had evidently been blowing off a considerable amount of steam at him.

He nodded at last, still blinking, and stepped forwards, pulling the gem out and evidently deciding that right at this minute, he had no problems in playing leader. The party gathered around him as they stared into the darkness of the cave the Svirfneblin had sent them to. There was a long silence.

"It's very… dark," Imoen said at last, uncomfortably.

"Have no fear, the gem takes care of that, my dear," Haer'Dalis rhymed, then looked briefly pleased with himself enough to miss Anomen's unmasked glower, which Imoen seemed to purposefully ignore.

Aerie unconsciously clung to Harrian's arm, also missing the look of disgust this elicited from Jaheira. "Do – do we have to go down there?" she stammered nervously, looking distinctly unhappy.

He patted her on the arm absently, tossing the gem up and down in one hand. "I'm afraid so. But this gem will handle this, so the gnomes said. Off we go, then," Harrian declared, a little absently, as he led the group onwards and into the darkness of the cavern.