The violin was safely secured on her back, the adamantine sword at her side, inside its sheath.
Once again, Kelsya checked her armor. It was as fastened as it should be. Nothing was out of order. Jaehira, Minthara, and Shadowheart were waiting for her. l
And yet, she hesitated.
That rescue mission was supposed to be her first step outside Bhaal's shadow. Her dreams, though, said otherwise. Dreams in red, all coated in it.
At times, when the camp was silent, she could listen to her own heartbeat, she almost felt her blood running through her veins. Singing to her. A quiet hum, almost like a prayer.
Scratch was sitting by her side, his intelligent eyes almost saddened. Sighing, she knelt and hugged him, her face pressed on his neck. He felt warm. Lively. Alive.
Unlike her, just a puppet made for destruction.
Why not rectify that?
Gasping, Kelsya scrambled away from the dog. Her hands were shaking, she realized. She had managed to keep control, to keep them from acting on her behalf.
Scratch was not oblivious to her turmoil. Whining, she moved a few steps towards her. The sweet, loving dog was always ready to provide comfort, he did not even acknowledge the concept of betrayal.
Innocents are always the best victims, aren't they?
"N-No, stay", Kelsya muttered to the dog. She was not ready. That mission was a bad idea. Perhaps, she would never be prepared.
Her head swirling with thoughts, she kept walking backward to distance herself And in doing so, she found herself under the morning sun.
"Cub? Is everything fine?" Jaehira rushed to her side immediately. She took one look at her, and apparently what she saw worried her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
"N-no. I cannot Jaehira. I cannot. You go. I'm not... me" Kelsya whispered. She was trembling, and she was sweating, she realized.
Without a word, Shadowheart ventured inside the tent. As she approached it, Scratch walked out, trotting towards the owlbear cub.
Behind her, Minthara sighed in relief. Then, she said, "Listen now. I wasn't ready to become a slave to the Absolute, but that did not matter. You need to act, regardless of what choice you'll make. Otherwise, we might all be dead one day, the dog
included, without you being none the wiser... until it's too late. Or until you are dead because I mercy killed you at the height of your bloodlust." The drow paladin stood in front of her, her lips pressed and her gaze on hers. "Gain. Control. I did not get
free from the brain to die at your hands."
The druid shot the drow a disapproving look, before looking back at her. "There's no regardless. You must fight to cleanse yourself. Regarding the rest though, as much as it pains me, the dark elf is right. We're going now, and I trust you to choose properly." She squeezed her hand, before backing away.
Bloodlust, she thought. It was the right word, she supposed. For the first time since Cazador, Kelsya wondered how those spawns were dealing with their own bloodlust. Unlike her, though, they had no master. Instead, they were free to master their condition. And he...
She shook her head, refusing to entertain that thought. It did not matter. What choice did she have left?
"Fine. Let's go."
§§§
She looks so fragile, so scared, that all he wants is to hold her close, tell her that everything will be alright, make her believe because, if she dares to hope, that will become reality.
But it does not work like that. Not for her, not for me, not for anyone. Not even the brave Karlach, bound to explode one day or the other despite her optimism and faith in this world.
So I stay hidden, and watch Kelsya taking the road to Rivington with her friends without making a move.
Once they're out of sight, the tiefling warrior gestures for me to come out. So I do, and at the same time, both Wyll and Gale approach us.
"So. To fucking business. Where is that passage you found, Fangs?" Karlach asks.
She does not smile today. All business, as she says. I wonder if she's so eager to crush Gortash for the sake of Kelsya, or to sate her own anger. If it was anyone else, I'd say definitely anger. Karlach though... perhaps it's in equal measure.
That's what she would say, at least. Maybe she lies to herself.
"We reach Wyrm's Crossing. Then, we head down on the right side. We'll need rope, or" I look at Gale, "some help from the Weave. From there, we climb until we reach the top of the fortress, and voilà, the throne room is below us."
"Won't that room be packed with guards?" Gale asks, his brow furrowed.
"It may well be. However, it's either this or fighting our way through every room. Whatever we do, we must get near the throne. His quarters are close."
"We'd be right inside the lion's den though, and he'll have the advantage" Wyll chimed in. "Perhaps Gortash leaves the fortress sometimes. We may surprise him then."
To that objection, at first, I remain silent. Of course, it makes perfect sense. If Wyll was not worried for Kelsya's well-being. "Yes. Sure" I say, sarcasm dripping from each word. "Let's go for a stroll and take some time, while the Lord of Murder claims her. We have all the time in the world after all."
To my remark, everyone remains silent. So I speak. "Either one of us tries to get past the guards, while the others keep them busy if so needed, or we fight them together to reach the Archduke. There is no waiting. We know that already."
Only Wyll shakes his head. "You don't trust her judgment. I understand."
His tone is so matter-of-factly that I have no idea if he agrees, or he's disappointed. Not that I care. We have a job to do.
§§§
Navigating the sewers, Kelsya noticed, has been easy for her since the first time. How many times did she scurry around there, she couldn't help but wonder.
She had seen the Rashemi. It was an impressive feat, opening a mimic's mouth wide enough to jump out of it and also kill it in the process. She had also seen Jaehira's face dropping as she had realized he was not the same person she cared for anymore.
A glimpse of a memory flashed in her mind. Astarion holding his former's master staff, consumed by his need for vengeance and ready to grab all that power, consequences be damned. His sibling's life be damned, as well as those of his victims.
He hadn't been the same person she had grown close, back then.
Perhaps, their past connection had been an illusion at best. Or a lie.
Perhaps, Jaehira would fare far better if she accepted that her friend was gone.
Perhaps Astarion had been right. Those lives did not matter, and he could have spared them an eternity of illusions, betrayal, lies, and hunger.
It was only when the splashing sounds of water around her went listened that she realized that she had stopped walking. The others as well, were too busy to stare at her face with worry on their own.
"What?" she snapped. "I'm not about to murder you all. You can keep walking and you can afford to turn your back on me."
Would not everyone, eventually, do exactly that?
The group did not answer immediately. Eventually, only Shadowheart spoke.
"We did not fear that. You just... looked sad. So sad. Are you sure you can make it? We could..." she hesitated "... we could still turn back" she said, earning a burning look from Jaehira.
For a moment, her vision went blurry, a single tear escaped her eye. Gods, she was weak, spineless. So different from the woman Enver had described her. So unhappy.
"Let's just go" she replied, moving past them. She had been their leader, She could still. Couldn't she?
§§§
Thanks to Gale's magic and the strength of their muscles, it has been easy to reach the top of Wyrm's Rock. Strangely enough, the higher they had climbed the fewer guards they had met on their way.
Or at least, it seemed strange until they found evidence of a fight to the death between Banites and Bhaalists.
The blood was fresh enough to show that the event was recent.
Which meant that they would probably find some more... security inside.
"Trouble in paradise, it appears", I remark dryly.
"It appears the alliance is more fraught than we expected", Wyll agrees.
"At least they did not succeed and rob me of the chance to kill the fucker", Karlach says.
Without a word, Gale moves on, and I promptly follow. I'm not here to entertain myself in conversation after all. And soon enough, we are in front of the last door. The one behind which, I know, Gortash hides.
"Let me check that door for traps" I whisper, crouching down and gesturing for them to come closer. "I intend to end this now and today, but you were right, Wyll. We need to be cautious. I might try and get closer and take a look. It would allow us to
know how much trouble we're getting into."
"Orin might be there, and have already taken his life," Minthara says. I notice her shiver for a moment, her eyes growing wide for a few seconds.
"I guess it would take only a look to notice. She's not exactly subtle and... clean" I reply.
I do find, and disarm, a trap on the lock. It only takes the right click of the wrist for me to be able to step inside unscathed, closing the door only a little.
I am on a circular balcony. Only a narrow set of stairs leads down, directly inside the throne room. It appears Minthara is wrong. There's no sign of bloody decorations, so no Orin. What I do see are Flaming Fist and Banites. Several, in fact.
There's no way four people can waltz between those. Karlach, especially, lacks in caution as of now. A single person, though, perhaps adept at hiding in shadows...
The thought is so, so tempting. To kill the Archduke myself, take him by surprise. One good thrust and even a Chosen can fall. A dagger to the neck. It would be all that's needed.
It should be me. She already hates me, maybe if I take all the blame our friends will be welcome by her side once the influence of that rat is weeded out. They might help her reclaim herself.
Something near me clicks.
As I look down, I notice I'm far closer to the stairs than I meant to.
Also, I stepped on a vent. Like a damned noob, I activated some trap.
