"Unbelievable!" Ishta burst out, her voice echoing slightly in the underground dormitory chamber tucked away beneath the Druid's grove. "That cold-hearted, pig-headed, racist witch would rather see all these refugees slaughtered than risk a single leaf of her precious grove." Her words, drenched in contempt, reverberated off the stone walls, intricately carved with ancient druidic lore. The flickering candlelight cast erratic, ghost-like shadows, causing the lush greenery clinging to the rock surfaces to sway ominously.
As Ishta paced, her boots grinding against the earthen floor, Gale watched her with a calm yet attentive posture, leaning against one of the rough-hewn stone tables that held scattered books and wax-dripped candles.
"I concur," he finally said, his voice laced with disdain. "That woman has more venom in her heart than a snake does in its fangs. I'm only surprised you didn't render her unconscious like you did the last fellow."
Stopping mid-step, Ishta turned sharply to face him, her expression filled with weary sarcasm. "Despite evidence to the contrary, I don't actually go around punching everyone I dislike in the jaw, Gale," she shot back.
Seizing the moment to lighten the tense atmosphere, Gale pushed off from the table, dislodging a small cascade of candle wax onto the floor. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he closed the distance between them. "I was merely teasing you," he admitted, his voice softening. "I have to admit, it was somewhat of a struggle to contain my own ire while listening to Kagha back there... so I can only imagine how much of a battle it was for you." His smile was warm and sympathetic, aimed at easing her anger. "What is youth if not a time to be forgiven for one's transgressions?" he added playfully, hoping to coax a genuine smile from her.
Ishta cocked her head curiously at him. "Sounds like you have something to confess."
Gale chuckled, his laughter echoing softly around the stone chamber. "Ha! And you don't? You're wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgment? No - you don't strike me as quite that boring."
"Boring is the one thing I am absolutely determined never to be," Ishta grinned back, her anger dissipating into the shared jest.
"Well, you appear to be doing a good job of that so far," came a wry comment from Shadowheart, who had been silently observing from a corner of the room.
Ishta glanced over and noticed Shadowheart massaging her hand with a grimace on her usually composed face. Concern washed over Ishta's features and she gave the Cleric a questioning look.
Shadowheart avoided her gaze at first but then sighed in resignation. "I know that look - you're wondering why I was in pain before. Let's just clear the air about that now." She looked down at her hand, avoiding eye contact with Ishta. "It's an old wound that flares up from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about. It's not related to the tadpoles, in case your imagination is running wild. Just something I have to live with."
Ishta could tell there was more to the story than Shadowheart was letting on, not just from her words but from the way her shoulders tensed and her gaze averted. "How badly does it hurt?" Ishta asked, her voice softening with empathy as she stepped closer, her concern palpable in the dim light of the chamber.
Shadowheart hesitated, her expression a mask of stoicism as she forced a nonchalant shrug. "Quite a lot, if I'm being honest. But it always passes quickly, so I can manage," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of pain.
Ishta narrowed her eyes slightly, detecting the slight evasion. "Does it have anything to do with you being a follower of Shar?" she asked, her tone cautious yet direct.
At the mention of Shar, Shadowheart's eyes widened in surprise, her posture stiffening abruptly. "How did you...?" she stammered, clearly caught off guard.
Ishta crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "It took me a while to remember where I'd seen that symbol on your armour before," she explained. "But while we were in the sanctum just now, you commented on the murals there. The Dark Justiciars depicted in them were wearing a symbol similar to yours." She coughed lightly, almost apologetically, and added, "Also... I may have overheard you praying last night."
Shadowheart stared at Ishta, annoyance and disbelief washing over her face. After a tense moment, she exhaled sharply. "Yes, I worship Shar, the Mistress of the Night. It is my holy mission to oppose Selûne, her teachings, and her followers. Now that you've guessed the truth, please don't make a big fuss about it," she said, her voice a mix of defiance and resignation.
Ishta smiled softly. "I wasn't going to. I don't care who you worship; we have bigger problems. I was more concerned about your hand."
Shadowheart looked genuinely surprised by Ishta's reaction. "I didn't think you'd react so pragmatically. Perhaps I should have told you sooner," she confessed, her voice tinged with relief. With a heavy sigh, she continued, "As for the wound, it's my burden, from Lady Shar. I can feel her influence, somehow. Sometimes I wonder if it's supposed to be guiding me, punishing me, testing me... but perhaps it's none of those. Perhaps it's completely random. I'd like to hope there's more to it than that - some meaning that Lady Shar will reveal to me when the time is right. Until then, all I can do is endure."
Ishta nodded thoughtfully, her gaze softening as a newfound respect and understanding dawned between them. In truth, she hadn't had good experiences with Shar worshippers in the past, but so far Shadowheart had proven herself a worthy ally. Her secret wasn't exactly the worse one she could currently think of.
Gale suddenly stepped forward, clearing his throat to announce his presence. "While we are on the subject of... ah, secrets. There is something of great importance I've been meaning to discuss with you."
"Oh yes?" Ishta remarked, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. She tried to suppress the knot of worry forming in her stomach, wondering if Gale might also have unearthed some truths about Astarion.
"We've been on the road together for a while now, haven't we? Survived some perils, overcame some obstacles," Gale began, his tone earnest. "Ever since you were kind enough to free me from that stone, I've seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage. The skill with which you direct us, the patience you've shown with me while I re-learn my combat training, and the remarkable self-control you displayed when you got Kagha to release the girl. In short: I've grown to trust you."
Ishta chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with humour. "You are doing an excellent job of buttering me up, Gale. So out with it… what do you want from me?"
Gale looked slightly offended but quickly masked it with a small smile. "I was being quite sincere, I assure you. The reason I make a point of saying all this is that I've grown confident enough to tell you something I've yet to tell another living soul. Except for my cat. You see, I have this... condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly."
Ishta's expression turned serious. "What kind of condition?"
"The specifics are rather personal, but suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. What it comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside," Gale explained, his voice low and urgent.
"Your illness causes you to consume raw magic? I'm going to need the details..." Ishta pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"I can say no more on the matter - not now, anyway. Just trust me when I say it's all of vital importance. It's been days since I last consumed an artifact - since before we were abducted. It's only a matter of time before my craving returns. That is why I turn to you. I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital. Dare I say it, critical," Gale said, his eyes conveying the gravity of his request.
"As cravings go, it's not the strangest I've heard of… What happens if you don't consume these artifacts?" Ishta asked, trying to understand the stakes.
Gale's face darkened slightly. "I'll spare you the finer details, but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long... Catastrophe."
"Well, we can't have another catastrophe while we're dealing with the current one, can we?" Ishta quipped, then smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll get you what you need."
The relief in Gales face was clearly evident as he exclaimed, "Thank you! I see my trust in you was not misplaced." His posture relaxed and he returned Ishta's smile. "I'm sure we won't have to look very far to find what I need: Faerûn overflows with magic-infused treasure. As do our packs, as a matter of fact. We've such an item already in our possession, primed for the moment the need arises," he commented.
"Just so we're clear, my bow is off-limits," Ishta playfully pointed out, pretending to be worried about losing her prized possession.
"Don't worry, your bow is safe with me," Gale assured her with a chuckle. "I was thinking more along the lines of something less useful - one of those necklaces you found in that cache this morning."
"Soon as we make camp I'll retrieve it from Withers," Ishta promised. "Speaking of which…I better go and see how Astarion and Lae'zel are faring. Have a wander round the inner circle and see if you can get a feel for what the other Druids think about this whole business. If I remember correctly the 'Rite of Thorns' is something of a controversial ritual, and I'd be very surprised if everyone here is as enthusiastic as Kagha about using it. Oh, and see if you can find Nettie."
Shadowheart and Gale exchanged knowing glances, both silently acknowledging her suggestion before splitting up to investigate the rest of the dormitory chambers.
Ishta turned and made her way back through the main chamber, a sense of disgust evident on her face as she passed by Kagha, the First Druid. Emerging from the underground sanctum, Ishta was greeted by the warm embrace of the sun's rays. She paused in the centre of the sunken circle, surrounded by large stone animal totems and chanting Druids, and gazed thoughtfully at the idol of Silvanus displayed on a plinth in front of her. With a frustrated sigh, she muttered under her breath, "Halsin would never have agreed to this." The peaceful sounds of nature filled her senses, a stark contrast to the corruption that had clearly taken hold within the sanctuary.
Turning her back on the aggravating spectacle below, Ishta headed up the stone steps leading to the upper tier of the grove. The scent of birchwood and the soft rustling of leaves provided a calming contrast to the chaos she had just left behind. She paused to greet Arabella, the Tiefling child she had saved from Kagha's wrath. The girl had been caught trying to steal the idol of Silvanus in a desperate attempt to stop the ritual. Her heart had been in the right place, but her recklessness had nearly cost her life. The memory of Arabella, wide-eyed with fear as the First Druid's deadly Viper companions closed in, still haunted Ishta.
"No more light-fingered antics from now on, right, Arabella?" she admonished the girl, her tone firm but kind.
Arabella shuffled her feet and looked down, her tail flicking nervously. "Yeah…" she replied reluctantly, then quickly added, "I mean, thank you. For helping me."
Komira, the girl's mother, frowned and crossed her arms, her stern expression doing little to hide the relief in her eyes. "You ever scare me like that again, and I'll feed you to a gnoll!" she scolded, her voice trembling slightly.
Ishta couldn't help but smile at the exaggerated eye roll Arabella gave her mother. The girl's defiance was a sign of her resilience, a trait Ishta admired. "Mum, I'm fine. Stop it," Arabella complained, her voice tinged with exasperation.
"Your mother was a heartbeat away from fighting a bear," her father, Locke, chimed in, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and affection.
Arabella gave a slight smirk and remarked, "Isn't that how Mum usually is?"
Ishta tried and failed to keep herself from laughing at the cheek of the bold little Tiefling. Her laughter earned a mildly disapproving look from Komira, but Ishta could see the corners of the woman's mouth twitching upwards.
"Quiet, you pup," Komira reproved her daughter, but there was a lightness to her tone, a clear indication of the love she felt for her daring child.
Locke turned to Ishta, his expression serious but grateful. "Our little hellion told us what happened. Thank you. We don't know what we'd do without her."
"It's not much, but here," Komira said, unfastening a necklace from around her neck and holding it out to Ishta. The necklace was simple but beautiful, a delicate chain with a small locket shaped like a leaf. "Know that if you call, we'll come running. No matter what."
Ishta felt a lump form in her throat as she waved away the offer with a gentle smile. "There's no need for that. Seeing you all back together is payment enough." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the depth of her emotions. She watched as Komira re-fastened the necklace, the family's bond reminding her of a time long ago when she herself had known the warmth of her parents love. Pushing away the tide of nostalgia that threatened to rise, Ishta bid the reunited family farewell and carried on in her search for Lae'zel and Astarion.
Finding the Gith turned out to be fairly simple - all she had to do was follow the trail of slightly traumatized Tieflings, their eyes wide with fear and their steps hurried. Ishta's sharp eyes caught sight of Lae'zel towering over one of them, her presence menacing and unyielding. She watched silently from a distance, observing the confrontation. Lae'zel's posture was rigid, her eyes cold as she stared down the cowering man. The Tiefling, whom Ishta guessed to be Zorru, trembled under her intense gaze.
When Zorru dropped to his knees and bowed, Ishta felt a pang of pity. Deciding it was time to intervene, she strode forward, her steps purposeful but not rushed.
"I see you are making friends with the locals," Ishta commented dryly, a hint of sarcasm lacing her tone as she approached the pair.
Lae'zel spared her only a cursory glance, her attention snapping back to Zorru with predatory focus. "You saw another Gith. Where?" she demanded, her voice a low growl.
"On the road to Baldur's Gate, near the mountain p-pass," Zorru stammered, his voice quaking. "Saw us 'fore we s-saw it. Jammed its b-b-blade through Yul's belly, straight to the other side."
"No twisting?" Lae'zel sneered, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she savoured the man's terror. "Kin must have been in a hurry. The map. Show me," she ordered, holding out her hand expectantly toward Ishta.
Ishta bit back her annoyance, her jaw clenching slightly. She reached into the bag on her hip and pulled out a roll of thick parchment. She had procured the map from one of the traders in the grove, and discovered that the region the Nautiloid had crashed in was Elturgard - a long way from her home in Aglarond. As she handed it to Lae'zel, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at the Gith.
Lae'zel snatched the map from Ishta's hand and unrolled it with a flick of her wrist. Her eyes scanned the parchment with intense focus, and she thrust it toward Zorru, her finger pointing to a specific spot. "Mark where you encountered the Githyanki warriors," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
Zorru's hands shook as he took the charcoal stick Lae'zel offered and marked the location on the map. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow. When he finished, he looked up at Lae'zel with a mixture of fear and hope.
Lae'zel's expression softened slightly, a rare and fleeting moment of satisfaction crossing her features. "Up. You can keep your innards," she commanded, her voice a harsh whisper.
Zorru scrambled to his feet, relief washing over his face. He nodded gratefully to Ishta, who gave him a small, encouraging smile before he hurried away, casting one last fearful glance at Lae'zel.
Ishta watched him go, then turned to Lae'zel. "Do you plan to be that charming with everyone we meet? You were a bit rough with the poor lad," she cautioned.
"Rough?" Lae'zel snorted, "Soon, you will be vomiting blood and tearing apart your own flesh. When the tentacles sprout from your lips, will you still cry that I was rough? The teeth-ling was clear. If there are Githyanki west of here, that must be our objective. Purification cannot wait."
Ishta rubbed her temple as she stared at the belligerent woman, seriously wondering if keeping her around was worth the trouble...and the headache. "If you want to go and find your kin then I won't stop you, but I need to find a way to stop this ritual first. I also want to at least try and see if a healer can help us."
Lae'zel opened her mouth to argue, but Ishta cut her off. "If you want my help then those are my terms," she said firmly and turned to walk away. There was a sharp intake of breath behind her and she half expected a sword to come flying through the air, but was pleasantly surprised when Lae'zel fell into step beside her.
"It is useless, purification is the only way," she muttered stubbornly, "But I will aid you if it means we can leave this place sooner."
"Thank you Lae'zel. Go and meet up with Gale and Shadowheart in the lower sanctuary, I'll join you all once I find Astarion…oh and it's pronounced teef-ling," she called out as Lae'zel began to walk away.
The Gith halted for a moment, and looked back at Ishta, who was surprised once more when she saw what looked like a flicker of embarrassment on her face. "I am unfamiliar with the— well, I shall not say 'culture'. 'Custom', perhaps," she admitted grudgingly, then added with her customary imperiousness, "You will educate me on matters of this Fay-run."
As Lae'zel turned to carry on walking away, Ishta couldn't help but get in one last parting shot. "No, it's pronounced Fay-roon," she corrected her, then giggled silently and swiftly made her exit just as the Gith halted again.
Whatever retort Lae'zel may have had in mind did not reach Ishta's ears as she descended into the lower levels and began hunting for Astarion. However, the Vampire proved to be more difficult to find, and despite searching carefully throughout the refugee camp there was no sign of him anywhere. As she leaned up against a tree and contemplated her next move, Ishta wondered if he had indeed run out on them. She couldn't really blame him if that were the case. After all, they were only brought together by circumstance, not by choice or trust. And he certainly hadn't made an effort to hide his deceitful nature.
However, despite all this, she had found herself warming up to the snarky and self-confident Rogue. It was ironic how his cunning ways had earned her trust more than individuals in the past who pretended to be virtuous. She had allowed herself to enjoy his company and flirtatious banter, fully aware that most of what he said was probably a lie. But in the end, as long as he proved to be a valuable ally, she didn't overly care about his tricks and false words.
Unfortunately, now that Ishta knew his secret, the once amusing and witty remarks that had made her smile and want to trade jabs with him, only served to irritate her. The novelty of his roguish and mischievous charm had worn off, and all she could see was the manipulative and deceptive man beneath it all. Deep down though, she knew he hadn't really changed; it was just her own perceptions that had shifted.
Her reflections were suddenly interrupted by a loud and shrill caw and she glanced up at the branch above her. Her gaze met the the beady eyes of a Raven peering down from it's perch and it cawed again, clearly trying to get her attention.
Ishta turned to face the bird, her fingers brushing lightly against the pendant at her neck as she focused her mind. A soft, golden glow enveloped her, shimmering briefly before settling into a faint aura. She channelled her magic, weaving the spell that would connect her mind to the Raven's, translating its thoughts and vocalizations.
The Raven tilted its head, regarding her with a curious gleam in its sharp eyes. "You understand me now?" it asked.
Ishta nodded, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I can, friend. What do you want?"
The Raven hopped down onto a lower branch, its feathers puffing out in a display of importance.
"You looking for someone? Silver-haired elf man? I can help. I have a bargain to make with you," it announced, its tone business-like.
"What kind of bargain?" Ishta asked, her curiosity piqued and her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the bird. It was an impressive specimen, with glossy blue-black feathers and a wickedly sharp looking beak.
"You are a Ranger, yes?" the Raven inquired.
"Yes," Ishta confirmed, nodding. Memories of her intense training in the wilds drifted through her mind for a moment.
"Good. But you do not have a familiar. I wish to be your familiar. Here, Druids do not need them; they can become birds themselves. They have no use for me," the Raven explained, preening its feathers in an attempt to appear nonchalant.
Ishta raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What do you know of familiars?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning forward with interest at the Raven's offer.
"We form a bond. I serve you and gain magical protection. I cannot be killed by enemies, only by old age," the Raven stated confidently, its chest puffing out with pride.
Ishta's face softened, showing both concern and admiration in her eyes. "It is true that once bonded you cannot truly die; you will be recalled into the Weave and reborn if you suffer enough fatal damage...but you will still feel the pain of injuries. Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, her tone serious yet gentle.
The Raven shuddered slightly at the thought, its feathers puffing out even further as it lowered itself in distress. "Pain does not frighten me. Death does. Especially death at the claws of an angry Eagle whose egg I stole," it replied, a hint of fear flashing in its eyes as it recalled the memory.
Ishta smiled knowingly, a touch of humour in her gaze. "Ah...I see," she said understandingly. She reached out her hand, palm up, offering a gesture of trust and acceptance.
The Raven hopped closer, locking eyes with Ishta as it extended a talon to lightly touch her hand while she spoke Elvish words to form the bond. "Bíodh an t-anam seo faoi cheangal le draíocht i seirbhís an Eladrin."
"Welcome...Mèirleach," Ishta smiled, giving her new companion a name as he hopped onto her shoulder and clacked his beak in satisfaction.
"The silver-haired one went down the path to the lake. Not a wise choice. The singing bird-women often hunt there. I will show you," Mèirleach informed her before taking off from her shoulder and flying towards a nearby thicket.
Ishta echoed the Raven's words in confusion. "Singing bird wo— oh shit!" Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant and dashed after him, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.
Mèirleach led her down a narrow dirt trail that wound through thick underbrush; leaves and thorns scraping against her armour as she hurried down the slope.
As they approached the lake, Ishta could hear the faint notes of an ethereal song drifting on the wind. Her heart raced as she slowed to a cautious crawl, hidden among the foliage with Mèirleach circling above quietly.
Peering through the dense greenery, Ishta caught sight of three Harpies, their attention focused on a formation of jutting rocks. One of them was singing a sweet melody that sharply contrasted with its sinister appearance.
A chill ran down her spine when she spotted Astarion emerging from under one of the overhangs, swaying gently to the bewitching song. She could see his mouth moving, as if whispering along with the haunting melody while his hands hung loosely by his sides, weapon-less. One of the Harpies stalked closer to him, reaching out with clawed hands in an almost playful manner, confident of its impending victory.
Without taking her eyes off of Astarion, Ishta unshouldered her short-bow and sprinted out from the cover of the undergrowth, up onto a rock overlooking the scene. With a determined coldness, she aimed at the Harpy's chest and released an arrow.
Astarion's mind, still clinging to some semblance of control, processed the sudden sight of an arrow piercing through the chest of the Harpy in front of him. A surge of relief mingled with the overwhelming euphoria that clouded his thoughts as he turned to see a familiar figure silhouetted against the vibrant blue sky.
The Ranger stood tall on the rocky outcrop, her bow drawn taut and aimed with precision at the reeling monster. With a steady hand and unwavering focus, she released the arrow, watching it fly true and strike the Harpy's heart. The creature fell to the ground with a pained screech, its once threatening presence now reduced to a lifeless heap.
But the victory was short-lived as the other two Harpies took flight and circled above, screeching in anger at the loss of their sister. Ishta calmly drew another arrow, tracking their erratic flight with trained eyes. It was a chaotic scene, but Astarion had no doubt in her skill. He just prayed for her aim to remain true in this dangerous game she was playing by making herself an exposed target.
With the songs' enchantment broken, Astarion moved with lightning speed to retrieve his weapons. As he quickly secured his short-sword and dagger, a tear-stained face peeked out from under a nearby stone overhang. The Tiefling child stared at him with wide eyes, fear etched into every feature. Astarion motioned for the child to stay put, urgently whispering, "Stay quiet and don't come out until we've killed these feathered pests."
But before Astarion could fully turn back to face the imminent danger, the child gasped and pointed behind him. Whipping around, he saw one of the Harpies diving straight for Ishta, who threw herself off the rock just in time. The second Harpy took advantage of her vulnerable position and swooped down towards her with taloned claws outstretched.
"Not today!" Astarion shouted angrily as he sprinted towards Ishta with his dagger drawn. He leapt into action, intercepting the Harpy mid-dive and sending them both tumbling to the ground in a chaotic flurry of feathers and limbs. The Harpy's sharp claws raked across his arm, drawing a deep gash that seeped blood down his sleeve, but he managed to plunge his dagger into its side.
The Harpy screeched in agony, flapping its wings wildly in an attempt to break free. But Astarion grit his teeth and twisted the dagger deeper until the creature fell limp. Gasping for breath and feeling pain shooting through his wounded arm, he pushed the dead Harpy off of him and scrambled to his feet. But there was no time to rest or tend to his injuries, as the remaining Harpy hovered just out of reach, malice burning in its eyes. Astarion knew it was biding its time for another attack - he couldn't let his guard down for even a split second.
Without warning, the Harpy let out a piercing screech and dove at Astarion once again. He barely had time to raise his sword in defense before its razor-sharp claws tore through his armor, leaving deep gouges behind in the leather. Stumbling back from the force of the attack, Astarion was caught off guard when the Harpy's huge wing smashed into his head with brutal force. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, the world spinning around him.
Before he could gather himself, the Harpy lunged at him once more, eyes filled with savage hatred. In a blur of movement, Ishta suddenly appeared between them, her bow held tightly in both hands as she used it to block the Harpy's attack on Astarion. But she didn't fully stop the onslaught and a cry of pain escaped her clenched teeth as the Harpy's claws dug into her forearm, leaving a jagged and bloody wound.
Astarion froze for a moment in shock and disbelief, struggling to process the fact that Ishta had deliberately put herself in harms way to protect him. With newfound determination, he scrambled to his feet and unshouldered his bow. Taking aim, he took one final breath before releasing the arrow. It flew true, passing over Ishta's shoulder and sinking deep into the Harpy's throat. The creature let out a final gurgling screech before falling lifeless to the ground.
Exhausted and battered, Ishta collapsed to her knees, chest rising and falling rapidly as blood dripped freely from her wounds, mixing with the dirt beneath her. Astarion stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the deep gash on Ishta's arm, watching crimson rivulets trickle through her fingers as she clasped the wound. The metallic scent of her blood was overwhelming, and he swallowed hard, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from licking his lips hungrily. He caught Ishta staring at him and quickly composed himself, pushing aside his darker instincts.
"That probably needs looking at," he remarked, his voice laced with caution, aware of Ishta's prickly mood. He tried to sound casual, but the concern seeped through. "Did you manage to find that Nettie person?"
Ishta shook her head, her expression strained. "I'm fine, I can take care of this myself," she replied, her voice tight as she hid her pain. She winced slightly as she adjusted her grip on her arm. "Besides, you have your own injury to take care of."
Astarion glanced at his own arm, where a shallow cut bled sluggishly. His innate healing ability was already at work and most of the damage had already been taken care of. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's not that deep, nothing a Health Potion can't fix," he said, forcing a smile. 'Or a good blood meal,' he added silently to himself. "Yours, however, looks deep and is positively pouring blood like a broken tap and I sincerely doubt Harpies practice good talon hygiene. Let me see if I can find you a healer," he persisted, attempting to keep his tone light.
"I said I'm fine, Astarion!" Ishta snapped, her exasperation evident as she glared at him, her eyes flashing with frustration.
Astarion's patience frayed, his concern turning to anger. "Fine! Then bleed out here on the sand for all I care. Why let a Harpy have all the fun when your own stubbornness can kill you just as effectively?" he retorted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Ishta glared at him, frustration bubbling over. "Oh, for Mielikki's sake! Te curo!" she hissed angrily, raising her hand. A pale green light enveloped her arm, and Astarion blinked in surprise, his anger giving way to confusion.
"Oh… Well why didn't you say you knew the Cure Wounds spell?" he asked peevishly, crossing his arms and frowning.
"Because you never bloody shut up long enough for me to tell you!" Ishta retorted, her voice sharp as she channelled the healing magic into her wound. The blood flow slowed, and the gash began to close, leaving only a faint scar.
Astarion watched, his irritation simmering down to a begrudging admiration as he observed the healing magic at work. "Well, it would have been nice to know before now," he muttered.
A small, trembling voice called out from under the rocks, "A-are they gone?"
Both Astarion and Ishta turned sharply to see the young Tiefling child emerging from his hiding spot, his wide eyes darting around nervously, searching for any remaining threats in the sky above.
"Yes, they're all well and truly dead," Astarion replied with a cheery tone, his lips curling into a wicked grin. "You're safe now...at least until the goblins arrive," he added with a dark chuckle, relishing in the child's startled reaction.
Ishta gave Astarion a reproachful look, her expression softening as she approached the child. She knelt down in front of him, her movements slow and gentle as she reached out to place a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked kindly, her voice soothing and reassuring.
The child stammered, his fear evident in his voice as he struggled to form coherent words. "No - yes - I mean... I don't know!" He cowered, his small frame shaking as he looked up at Ishta with wide, frightened eyes.
"Take a deep breath, slow and steady," Ishta urged him gently, her hand steady on his shoulder. "As he said, you're safe now. What's your name?"
The boy looked up at Ishta timidly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm Mirkon," he answered before suddenly exclaiming with fresh worry, "Oh no!"
"Now what's the matter with you?" Astarion asked impatiently, standing next to Ishta with a raised eyebrow, his tone laced with irritation.
"I have to get back. Mol will be so mad," Mirkon said, wringing his hands nervously and looking around frantically as if expecting Mol to appear at any moment.
"Go back to your parents, Mirkon. There's worse in the wilds than Harpies," Ishta advised, her tone serious as she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"Yes, and stop snivelling or they will come back. They like tasty little Tiefling kids— ow!" Astarion grunted as Ishta elbowed him sharply in the shin, glaring at him in annoyance before turning back to the boy.
"Pay no mind to him, Mirkon," she said firmly, her voice full of kindness.
Mirkon's shoulders slumped as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Th-they're gone...my parents. Now there's just Mol."
Ishta's expression immediately softened, her eyes filling with sympathy for the young boy before her. "I'm so sorry to hear that," she said gently, standing up slowly as Mirkon began to leave.
He ran halfway up the path towards the grove, but suddenly halted and turned back, running towards them again. He skidded to a stop in front of Astarion, who looked down at the boy with mild curiosity.
"Wait, umm... you should meet Mol. She'll be grateful you saved me…even if you were mean," Mirkon said, looking up at the elf with a mix of fear and gratitude in his eyes. He gestured for Ishta to come closer and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. "Find a boy called Doni. Tell him you want to see the 'Dragon's Lair'," he said urgently before turning around and running up the hill once more.
Astarion and Ishta exchanged glances, the tension between them momentarily forgotten as they processed Mirkon's words.
"You saved his life?" Ishta asked slowly, her head tilted with an unreadable expression on her face; surprise and curiosity mixed in her gaze.
Astarion started to brush off his leather chest-piece, tutting at the deep cuts and scratches marring its surface. "I've only had this two days and it's already ruined. Cheap bandit rubbish - gods, what I wouldn't give for a decent cuirass from the Stormshore Armoury," he grumbled.
"I'll get it repaired. And you're avoiding my question," Ishta said insistently.
"No, I'm simply not wasting my time on something so unimportant when I'm preoccupied with my woeful lack of protective gear," Astarion retorted defensively.
"Saving a child's life is pretty important, at least to me it is," Ishta said firmly, her voice filled with conviction.
"Well, it's not to me," Astarion snapped irritably, his eyes flashing with anger. "That little brat nearly got me killed, luring in those Harpies with his incessant mewling. I had a good mind to throw him to them as a distraction and make a run for it."
"But you didn't..." Ishta said softly, her eyes searching his face, as if for a deeper truth.
"I thought you said you had functioning eyes," Astarion challenged her smugly. "The boy is alive and well, so clearly I didn't."
"No, clearly you didn't," Ishta echoed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Why though? Why would you risk your life for him?"
"I didn't risk my life," Astarion scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "I hid in the same spot he did and was magnanimous enough not to shove him out."
Stepping closer to Ishta, Astarion's expression hardened, and he glared at her, his eyes darkening with intensity. He lowered his voice to a menacing drawl. "Let's get one thing perfectly clear, my dear. I am not risking my life for strangers. I have come too far to lose everything now, and I won't risk my freedom on some noble, heroic quest of yours."
Ishta cocked her head at him. "Risk your freedom?" she asked curiously, her voice softening imperceptibly.
Astarion froze, realizing he'd revealed more than he intended to. Panic flickered in his eyes as he quickly tried to come up with an explanation for his words but couldn't think of anything that wouldn't make him sound like a condemned criminal on the run. Ishta had shown a tolerance for his dubious backstory, but he wasn't sure how far that tolerance extended. He opted instead for the defensive track.
"I don't have to justify myself to you, Ranger," he snapped, his lips curling into a sneer as he attempted to regain control of the conversation.
To further end the discussion, Astarion turned on his heels and began marching up the hill with purposeful strides. "Are you coming?" he called sarcastically over his shoulder. "I thought we had a Healer to find, or would you prefer to abandon our search for a cure in order to play hero to every snivelling little orphan we meet?"
In truth, he didn't know why he'd snatched the boy away from the Harpies' first strike. There was nothing to be gained from saving a useless whelp like that, and yet his arms had seemed to move of their own accord. He knew what that sensation felt like when he was being controlled by Cazador, but this had been different. Maybe it was the tadpole? That explanation didn't make sense though; what in the hells would a Mindflayer hope to gain from an altruistic act?
As Astarion picked his way carefully up the narrow trail leading back to the grove, he continued to ponder the question, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. The air around him seemed heavier, the sounds of the forest muted by his internal debate. He became aware of Ishta catching up to him and calling out his name, so he quickened his pace, the bushes whipping back as he pushed through them. He pettily hoped a few would whack her in the face as her voice came again, more insistently this time.
"Astarion."
He whirled around, eyes flashing with irritation, and exploded, "What!"
Ishta stared at him calmly, then stepped closer, her eyes glowing with a warmth that took him by surprise. "Thank you," she said firmly, her voice full of sincerity. The warmth in her eyes seemed to reach out to him, breaking through his defences. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then pushed past him and carried on up the trail, her steps sure and determined, leaving him gaping after her in complete bewilderment.
Astarion wasn't the only one feeling bewildered. As Ishta and her companions followed Nettie, the Druid healer, into a hidden laboratory, her mind was elsewhere, still reeling from the recent events. She couldn't quite wrap her head around why she had risked her life to protect a Vampire, jumping in front of a Harpy's claws without hesitation. It was an instinctual response, triggered by the sight of someone in danger, but it surprised even her that she would extend such protection to someone like him. Even more surprising had been learning of Astarion's own protective actions towards the Teifling child.
After they had both made their way back to the grove, Ishta had sent Astarion off to join their companions, her mind consumed with finding Mirkon so she could find out exactly what had transpired at the lake. When she came across the boy and questioned him, the account had been hazy and disjointed, but certain details stood out to her. Mirkon had vaguely remembered being at the water's edge before being dragged away to safety underneath some rocks. He had mentioned Astarion's threat to feed him to the Harpies, but also how the elf had bravely fought them off.
Ishta suspected that if Astarion had thought about it more, he probably would have just abandoned the child to his fate. But in the heat of the moment, with no option for contemplation, his first instinct had apparently been to reach out and pull the boy to safety. It was a surprising display of compassion from someone who seemed so jaded and distrustful. Buried deep beneath all the layers of bitterness, anger, and trauma lay something intriguing - a glimmer of the kind of person Astarion was at his core. It was an unexpected revelation, one that made her wonder about the true nature of this complicated man. It also made her feel guilty about the way she had been treating him lately.
Ishta shook off her musings and forced herself to focus on the present and her surroundings. Gale, Shadowheart and Astarion had joined her in meeting with Nettie; Lae'zel had opted to stay outside, once again citing the futility of putting their trust in a Druid and not finding a crèche. The room they were in was one of many underground chambers linked to the main sanctum. Shelves made from twisted roots and branches lined the walls, overflowing with jars of dried herbs, vials of colourful liquids, and an assortment of alchemical ingredients. Bundles of freshly picked plants hung from the ceiling to dry, their earthy aromas blending in the air. In one corner, several stone tables served as workbenches, cluttered with mortars and pestles, alembics, and various alchemical apparatuses. Disturbingly, one of them had the corpse of a Drow elf laid out on its surface.
"This one had the same problem as you," Nettie, a Golden Dwarf with short dark hair informed her, gesturing towards the dead Drow with a look of concern. "Attacked us in the woods together with some goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after. Gave Master Halsin a right start."
"Must have been quite a sight to startle that walking mountain," Ishta chuckled, trying to lighten the mood amidst the grim atmosphere.
"You know him?" Nettie asked with genuine curiosity.
A soft smile touched Ishta's lips as she nodded. "We've met before."
The Druid turned to one of the workbenches and began searching through a small wooden chest, all while continuing to speak. "It's why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things - studied them. Still, we have options," she said confidently, though a flicker of doubt passed through her eyes as she held up a thorny vine in her hand.
"What plant is that? Will it help?" Gale inquired, noticing the vine in the Druid's hand.
Nettie hesitated before answering, "It might…" She then looked towards the group and added, "You don't have to stay and watch this if you don't want to."
Gale stepped forward with his usual intellectual curiosity, eager to witness the process. "I'm actually quite interested in the procedure. Please proceed."
As Nettie approached her, Ishta could see the plant clearly and her heart sank. With a tired sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly. "Nettie… I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now and assume that as an apprentice, you made an honest mistake when you grabbed that Kelemvor's Kiss," she said slowly, her eyes opening to fix a stern gaze on the Druid. Despite the smile on Ishta's face, there was a chilling coldness in her tone as she added, "Because if you are trying to poison me… you will regret it."
Nettie's eyes widened in shock and fear as she stepped back into a defensive stance, brandishing the thorny branch like a weapon. There was a grinding sound as the rooms stone door slid upwards, trapping them inside the laboratory. "To hells with it," she growled, lunging at Ishta with determination.
Sensing movement behind her, Ishta quickly stepped forward to block whoever was about to attack the Druid and held out her hand, catching Nettie's wrist just as the thorny vine grazed across her palm, leaving a thin red line. With calm yet firm strength, she yanked the vine from Nettie's grasp and pushed her backwards.
"There, it's done," Nettie said shakily. She stood defiantly in front of the group, but her shoulders drooped slightly as she looked at Ishta and murmured, "I'm truly sorry. For what it's worth, the poison is painless. It'll be like going to sleep."
"What in the hells have you done?" Shadowheart's voice rang out angrily.
Nettie turned to face them all, desperation evident in her voice. "What I had to do! I couldn't risk her turning; she would have killed everyone here," she exclaimed.
Astarion smirked dangerously, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Oh dear, darling. Hate to break it to you, but everyone else here is infected too," he taunted. "So unless you have spare thorns, things are about to get messy."
Tension crackled in the air, each person poised on a knife's edge, and Ishta knew she would have to handle this situation carefully or there would be a Dwarven corpse joining the Drow very shortly. She took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying herself for what lay ahead.
Nettie's expression was one of horror as she looked at each member of the group in turn. Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together, knuckles white. "All of you are… Oakfather preserve us," she breathed in fear, her face turning pale.
Ishta sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. She held up the branch she still carried, studying it with detached curiosity. The thorns dug into her skin, injecting their deadly poison, and she knew it wouldn't be long before the effects took hold. Her hand shook ever so slightly, but she kept her voice calm. "Nettie, none of us have shown any symptoms, and we've been infected for nearly three days now. Maybe even more, as I'm not entirely certain how long we were in the ship before it crashed. Whatever these things are, they are clearly dormant, which might give us enough time to find a cure."
Nettie's voice wavered with uncertainty as she responded, her expression turning thoughtful. "That's what Master Halsin said about the Drow's tadpole too…"
"Give me a chance to find Halsin then," Ishta insisted, taking a step closer to Nettie, her eyes locking onto the dwarf's with a plea for understanding. "If anyone can cure us, he can. What other alternative do you have? We may be trapped here for now, but do you want to risk having us all turn and finding a way out into the grove? I let you poison me, but I don't think my friends here will be quite so accommodating." She gestured to the others, who watched the exchange with tense anticipation.
Nettie's eyes widened, shock and confusion flickering across her features. "You… let me poison you? By Silvanus, why'd you do something so foolish?"
"Because I need you to trust me, Nettie," Ishta said firmly, her voice steady and eyes unwavering.
Nettie shook her head in disbelief. "You have a strange way of going about it. But maybe you're right about having time. Gods above. It's a risk, but maybe you deserve a chance…" She exhaled slowly, lowering her hands to her side.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, determination mingling with her fear. "Alright, I'll let you go and give you the briar's antidote, but you all have to swear to me you'll do what needs to be done. Swear that if you feel any symptoms, you'll end things yourself."
"Are you mad? I'm not going to kill myself - symptoms or not," Astarion retorted, crossing his arms defiantly, his eyes narrowing.
"No, I'm doing it for you, remember," Ishta said dryly, her tone slightly challenging as she glanced back at him.
"That was a hypothetical conversation," Astarion muttered, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.
Nettie's eyes blazed with determination. "I'm not letting any of you out of here until you swear it."
Ishta stepped forward, her posture straight and her voice strong. "I, Ishta Dawnstar, swear on the Supreme Ranger and The Broken Chain that I will take responsibility for my companions and ensure they do not harm innocent lives."
Nettie's eyes widened, recognition dawning in her features. "Dawnstar… wait… you're that Ishta? The one Halsin… Hells' teeth, why didn't you say anything sooner?" She looked at Ishta with a mixture of awe and relief, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
Rushing over to one of the shelves, Nettie picked up a small glass bottle filled with a dark brown liquid and hastily gave it to Ishta. "Here, the antidote. I'm sorry, I would never have done this if I had known who you were."
"It's alright, my fault for not using my full name. I forget to do that all the time," Ishta assured her, uncorking the bottle and swallowing the contents with a grimace at the bitter taste.
The tension in the air slowly dissipated as everyone began to relax, their unease fading like mist under the warm sun. Nettie's shoulders finally relaxed as she explained her and Halsin's efforts to track down other infected individuals and gather information about the origins of the parasites. She spoke with determination, tracing absent patterns on the stone table next to her as she spoke. Halsin had discovered that these parasites were different from those described in medical texts - instead of transforming their hosts into Mindflayers, they gave them powers and telepathic abilities. He had also found that many of the infected were converging on an ancient temple of Selûne for unknown reasons, which led him to join a group of adventurers headed to the ruins. The room fell silent as Nettie finished her story, the flickering torchlight casting shadows on the walls.
"Do you think he's still alive?" Ishta asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she clenched her hands tightly.
Nettie softened her expression as she looked at Ishta."I think so. I hope so. I've sent birds to find him, but they can't get close without goblins trying to shoot them down. You, though? You're one of them—technically speaking, I mean. They won't kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can get Halsin out of there, we can discover what he learned. And perhaps he can save your life. How's that sound?" She stepped forward, her eyes searching Ishta's face for a reaction.
Astarion leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, scoffing at Nettie's plan. "Sounds like you're making a lot of assumptions that could get us killed," he said sceptically.
Nettie shot him a stern look. "The way I see it, you have two options. Halsin or death - whatever form it takes," she replied resolutely.
Ishta took a deep breath, steeling her resolve. "Fine. I'll find Halsin for you. But in return, I need you to do something for me." She paused, her gaze focused and intense. "Find a way to delay the ritual and give the Tiefling refugees time to prepare to leave. The Rite of Thorns is too dangerous. Most enclaves don't survive long after its use. Get as many Druids on your side as possible and force Kagha's hand."
Nettie nodded slowly, already considering possible strategies in her mind. "I'll try. I may know of a way to disrupt it," she replied thoughtfully, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"As long as the Tieflings aren't blamed, do whatever it takes," Ishta urged, her voice firm but pleading.
Nettie reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Ishta's arm. "I promise I will do my best," she vowed, locking eyes with Ishta.
With that assurance, Nettie gestured towards the chamber door and the heavy stone slab lowered into the ground. Ishta led her companions out into the grove, feeling the cool air fill their lungs and the sounds of the forest surround them.
The sky above them was a canvas of brilliant oranges and pinks, the sun making its slow descent towards the horizon. As they walked, Lae'zel appeared before them, her tall figure casting a shadow against the vibrant sky. She informed them of a potential campsite that one of the Teiflings had mentioned to her. Ishta reached into her hip-bag and turned to Gale, handing him a small box with intricate carvings on the lid. His eyebrows shot up in recognition.
"Hang on a minute, I thought you gave this to Withers for safekeeping?" he asked in confusion.
"I did. But it magically appeared back in my bag a few moments ago while we were talking to Nettie. Maybe Withers is trying to tell us it's time to rest," she shrugged with a hint of amusement in her voice.
"You and Shadowheart can go with Lae'zel and start setting up camp," she instructed Gale, then turned to Astarion. "You and I will visit the traders and purchase more supplies. The Selunite temple is still three days away and who knows what dangers may lurk along the way. We need to be well prepared for any eventuality."
As the fiery sun sank below the horizon, casting the Tiefling camp into twilight, Ishta made her way through the thin trickle of passers-by. She nodded her head politely to those she recognized, their horns and tails swaying in acknowledgement as they headed towards their tents and huts for the night. Her keen eyes spotted Astarion sitting alone on a wooden bench where she had left him earlier, watching over their sizable stack of provisions and equipment. In the flickering light of the various burning torches scattered around the area, his face looked wistful; an almost painful expression in his eyes as if he were lost in memories of a past life. As Ishta approached him, he quickly turned his head away from her, clearing his throat and attempting to compose himself. When he finally turned back to her, his face was a perfectly crafted mask of polite smiles.
"Did you find everything you needed then?" he asked cheerfully, eyeing the large wooden box she was carrying under one arm.
"Yes," she replied with a nod, feeling a twinge of guilt over knowing that he felt he needed to wear a mask in her presence. "Thank you again for your help." With a small smile, she shifted the weight of the box into her hands and held it out to him. "And here, I got you something."
Astarion's quizzical gaze met hers as she placed the box delicately into his outstretched hands. His eyebrows lifted slightly, curiosity etched onto his features. Suppressing a smile, Ishta watched as he cautiously set the box down beside him on the bench, taking extra care not to jostle or damage it in any way. With slow, deliberate movements, he unfastened the clasp that held the lid shut, his expression tinged with suspicion as if he half-expected a swarm of insects to burst forth from within.
But as he opened the lid and peered inside, any lingering doubts were quickly replaced with astonishment. A pair of gleaming hand-crossbows lay nestled on a bed of crimson and silver-embroidered fabric, their intricate designs catching and playing with the dim light in mesmerizing ways.
Awestruck, Astarion reached out to stroke the weapons with a feather-light touch, almost reverent in his actions. The polished wood and finely-wrought metalwork seemed to shine with an otherworldly glow, making the crossbows appear almost magical.
Ishta couldn't help but feel a surge of warm satisfaction at seeing the sheer delight on his face. "I paid a visit to Dammon's forge to purchase a few things," she explained with a grin. "And he happened to mention that you had been eyeing this particular set."
A hint of surprise and doubt crept into Astarion's expression as he studied the elaborate crossbows once more. "They were rather expensive as I recall," he said dubiously.
She chuckled, her tone light and teasing. "You don't think I was stupid enough to entrust you with all my coin, did you?"
A mischievous smirk danced across Astarion's lips. "I did wonder...but why go through the trouble of buying these for me?" he asked, his tone a mix of playful banter and genuine curiosity.
Ishta shrugged nonchalantly, trying to downplay the significance of her gift. "Why not? You're an impressive marksman and deserve weapons that match your skill. Plus, they are also easier to use in tight spaces and close quarters combat. The encounter with the Harpies would probably have gone differently if you had been able to use your bow from the start," she observed, her voice softening with sincerity.
For a moment, Astarion simply stared at her, his eyes flickering with a myriad of emotions. Gratitude, surprise, and something more vulnerable and raw shone in their depths. Then he turned back to the crossbows, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings on their handles. She could sense the internal struggle he was facing - wanting to accept her gift but also wary of what it might ultimately cost him.
To spare him from having to voice his concerns, she quickly interjected. "Don't think this means you're getting special treatment though mate," she warned with mock seriousness. "I've made sure everyone in our group has the best weapons and armor available - Dammon is truly talented at his craft."
A hint of amusement lit up Astarion's features as he pulled one of the crossbows out and held it up to the torchlight. "Shame he's stuck selling his wares in this backwater grove," he commented with a smirk.
Ishta chuckled in agreement. "Can't argue with that." She gestured towards the box playfully. "So...think you can put those beauties to good use?"
A mischievous glint sparked in Astarion's eyes as he turned away from admiring the weapon to face her. "How many Goblins did you say we're up against?" he inquired, his tone filled with malicious glee.
"Potentially a hundred or so in a decent sized raiding band," Ishta replied, matching his tone. "But we'll have the element of surprise on our side if we follow Nettie's plan and infiltrate their ranks first."
He tilted his head and smiled deviously. "Well then…let's go and save some more snivelling orphans shall we," he said, his voice practically a purr.
Ishta's jaw dropped in surprise as she stared at him, taken aback by the sudden change in his attitude. She couldn't help but burst into laughter. "You are absolutely insufferable! You do know that right?" she managed to say between giggles, shaking her head in disbelief at his audacity. Though, it was helpful for her to know he could be motivated to care - even if it was by the promise of opportunities to commit acts of violence. So long as his bloodthirsty tendencies could be re-directed away from innocent lives and towards their common enemies, Ishta decided she could work with the fact that Astarion was a Vampire.
She still didn't fully trust him, but for the first time since discovering his true nature, Ishta felt that it might just be possible to learn to at least try.
Notes:
A big thank you to everyone who has left reviews. They make my day and give me the motivation to keep writing this for you guys xxxxx
Mèirleach is Scottish Gaelic for Thief and he'll be back in the next chapter. (he's busy cleaning up after the Harpy fight...ew)
The bonding Rite Ishta uses is in Irish Gaelic and translates as: May this soul be bound by magic in the service of the Eladrin."