Chapter 13

Night fell as we returned to the camp, and we all settled in to rest up for the mission. I was sitting by the fire thinking, what happens when we find Halsin? Assuming we don't get killed or captured, will he have the answers we need to find a cure to the tadpole problem? He might. But I doubt it. The magic infused in the tadpole is powerful. Strong enough to completely halt the illithid lifecycle and circumvent the natural weaknesses of a vampire. I don't think a singular druid could have all the answers. I was very new to this world, so I might be wrong. But my gut was telling me there was trouble coming after we rescued Halsin. However, Halsin might have information that is infinitely more valuable to me. If anyone knew the location of the dark lands, it would be an Archdruid. Halsin might be the key to finding Maggie. I looked determinately at the roaring fire; I will find my daughter.

Looking up I saw a strange purple glow coming from Gale's side of the camp. I went over to him and saw he was creating an illusion of a woman's face. The image was made of purple translucence, the face was pretty but in a distinguished and mature sort of way, and the image had long hair and a circlet on its head in a star design. Gale was looking at the image longingly, and his eyes were filled with… regret. I decided to break him out of his slump.

"Pretty, who is she? An ex-lover or a celebrity crush?"

Gale suddenly waved the image away as he noticed my presence, "Oh! My, you startled me. I…I was miles away."

"You didn't answer my question. Who's the girl?"

"She… She is Mystra. The mother of all magic." Gale said with a combination of awe and longing I've never seen in a man worshipping his god. But have seen in people pouting over a lover.

"Mystra… means a lot to you then?" I asked trying to put the clear implication in the tone of voice.

"Of course she is. Mystra is all magic. A marvel of the cosmos. No sculpture or painting could do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies: The Weave. And to me, magic and Mystra is all of creation." Gale said with an undiluted wonder so pure, that I almost didn't notice he failed to answer the question properly.

"You sound like a smitten schoolboy. There has to be more to this than your appreciation for magic."

"It is far more than a mere appreciation. Magic is… my life. I've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it. It's like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses." Gale said wonder continuing to mask his avoidance of the actual implication of my question. "Of course, you know this already. You are quite adept at manipulating the Weave. Though your technique is new to me. Your magic feels rougher, and more grounded than any I've encountered. But it all comes from the source that is Mystra."

That brought up a point I hadn't thought of yet. Where does my magic come from in this world? If all magic in this dimension comes from Mystra, am I using the weave? Or am I using the magic from my world? Stored within me. If am using the Weave to perform similar magic to back home, I haven't noticed any difference in my magic. And if I am using the Weave would Mystra find that offensive? Rashid did say the goddess of magic was… territorial when it comes to outside magic users. A problem for a later time. Fight one god at a time Harry.

"That's probably because I was taught by a more… combat-oriented teacher. My master was more about teaching how to use combat magic, rather than why or the nature of magic itself." I said trying to shake off the nervous tone that line of questioning had brought up in me.

"Perhaps. Would you like to experience how I channel the Weave?" Gale asked excitedly.

"Yeah sure, that would be interesting," I said with caution. I probably shouldn't be pushing my luck like this with Mystra but I'm really curious how magic feels through the power of a different dimension.

"Then follow my lead," Gale responded as he moved to my side and did a series of flowing hand motions that resulted in a burst of violet light and power.

I copied the movements, and the same result occurred. The magic felt strange, it was like a presence was reaching out through it. Giving the sense of a kind word and a kind touch, it was warm and comfortable.

"Excellent now repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao." Gale chanted in a suddenly ethereal voice.

I copied the chant and inflection and suddenly, the taste of rosewater and the sense of wellbeing were infused into the magic around us. A sliver of the Weave that tastes sweet on my tongue.

"Very good. Now I want you to picture the concept of harmony. As true as you can." Gale instructed.

Harmony. A hard concept to grasp in my chaotic whirlwind of a life. So, I looked back, to before Chicago. To before dark wizards, fairy queens and eldritch horrors. To a simple farm in the Ozarks. Ebenezer and I craving staffs from a tree struck by lightning. The patient intricate workings done to make my first true wizards staff a conduit for the infinite potential of magic. And more than all of that, to be in the company of Ebenezer, my grandfather, though I didn't know that at the time. The power and patience of that man and his lessons have shaped my best attributes and gave me a purpose when I was lost.

In response to this memory, the magic coalesced into a presence. The presence of Mystra. There is a sense of anticipation and the feeling of being cloaked in peace. I was safe, in the palm of Mystra's hand.

"You did it. You're channelling the Weave. How does it feel?"

"Amazing," I said in dumbstruck wonder. Never before have I been so close to the pure presence of magic, and somehow, I knew, this was just the edge of Mystra's power.

"That it is" Gale responded, equal if not more amounts of wonder coating his voice.

For a moment the Weave connects Gale and I in a farewell before dissipating. Gale let out a breath, "There it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining. Good night, thank you for sharing that moment with me." Gale said as he went into his tent.

After shaking off the disappointment that came with ending the magic, I walked over to Wyll's tent. He was scratching at his new horns, oblivious to my approach until I was right next to him. He jumped upon noticing me and gave me an embarrassed look, "Oh… Hello Harry what can I do you for?"

"I want to ask you a question. If you don't feel like answering that's okay, I'm just curious… How does it feel? What Mizora did to you?"

"They say that any who bathe in the River of Blood emerges as one born anew. It's a lot like that, I imagine. I feel the weight of these horns on my head, curling upwards like a mammoth's tusks. I feel these ridges snaking down my neck. Not to mention a few bumps and prongs in unmentionable places. But I haven't seen my reflection just yet. Be my mirror, what do you see?"

"I see Wyll Ravenguard. My friend and Blade of Frontiers. That's all you need to know." I said smiling.

Wyll smiled back as he said, "That's because you know the man underneath the horns. No matter, the people will see a curiosity. Maybe even a beast hungry for their souls. But I will slay their monsters, keep them safe. And one day they will see the Blade of Frontiers again."

"For both our sakes. I hope it's enough." I said sharing a knowing look with my fellow warlock.

"I should probably go to bed now. Goodnight Harry." Wyll said going into his bunk.

Lae'zel, Astarion and Karlach were all already turning in for the night, so I went over to Shadowheart, to see if she wanted to talk. I climbed the hill to her side of the camp, and she seemed distracted like she was mulling over a decision in her head. She was shaken out of her contemplation by my presence. "Hey there Shadow. You thinking over there or trying to pass Gale's food out."

Shadowheart looked amused, "The man does put quite a lot of cheese on everything. Shadow? Did the last part of my name drop out of your head when the Kagha slashed you across the room?"

"No just a nickname I was trying out. Got 'em for all my friends. Already got Fire-girl for Karlach, Frog-face for Lae'zel, and I was thinking Magic Muncher and Ram of Frontiers for Gale and Wyll."

Shadoeheart chuckled, half in amusement, half in cringing sympathy. "None for Astarion then?"

"We aren't friends. Don't really trust him yet." I said seriously.

"Yet you trust me? Some would say a Shar worshipper isn't that far from a vampire. Similar pensions for darkness and all that." Shadowhert said, mostly in jest but I sensed she was studying my answer with further intent.

"Well, you haven't tried to bite me in my sleep, and you have some notion of doing the right thing from time to time. Astarion is focused on himself and his survival alone. A sentiment I don't blame him for, but that, on top of what he is. I'll need some time to trust him. But despite myself, I like the pompous pretty boy." I said with indignant annoyance.

"Really, you like him do you?" Shadowheart said in a suggestively flippant tone.

"Not like that. I don't swing that way. I just find him amusing and generally tolerable despite my history with his kind."

"History? Do tell."

"It's not a subject I like talking about, and it's not relevant to the current situation."

"Oh, so that 'being more open with each other' nonsense was only one way. I see how it is." Shadowheart said haughtily.

She had me there. I didn't want to talk about the war with the Red Court, with anyone, in my universe or any other. But Shadowheart was my best lead on Shar and her involvement with Nicodemus. So, guess I gotta bite the bullet. "My people, the wizards of my home. Got into a war with the vampires. It lasted for near a decade, and we lost a lot of good wizards… and some other people as well." I said flashing back to… that night in Chichén Itzá.

I think Shadowheart saw the shift in my face because she asked, very gently "Was that how your lover Karen died? In the war?"

I swallowed a tank full of battery acid and nails before crocking out, "No, that was someone different, Karen died a few years later."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"That's okay. I haven't let up with my questions, why should you?"

Shadowheart touched me on the arm to comfort me before saying, "I suppose I should balance the scales. And I've been considering whether I should show you this or not for some time now."

"Showing me what?"

"It's difficult to put into words. I think it might be easier to show you. Use the tadpole, the connection. Come into my mind."

"You sure?" I said quietly putting my hand on hers.

She accepted the hand and said, "I'm sure, I trust you."

I used the tadpole to enter her mind and suddenly found myself in the woods at night and in front of me was a young girl. She couldn't have been more than twelve and had jet-black hair, green eyes and short pointed ears. Shadowheart as a child. She also had a fresh cut on her left cheek, how she got that scar on her face. The girl suddenly cringed in fear, and I turned around to see a grey wolf stalking towards her. The wolf snarled at the young Shadowheart, and she stepped back… to find a figure, dressed in black and purple and wearing a white mask standing behind her. Suddenly there were many of the same figures surrounding the wolf pushing it back with spears. The one behind Shadowheart walked in front of her and took off her mask, but I couldn't see her face. "She asked my name. I can't remember what I said. I can't remember anything before those woods. All I know is she saved my life and gave me a new home… with Lady Shar."

Suddenly the vision was over, and I was back at camp with the adult Shadowheart. Her hand gripped tighter on mine as the wound inflicted pain on her again. "That's all I remember," Shadowheart said releasing my hand.

"No wonder you're so dedicated to Shar- you feel like you owe her your life," I said in sad realisation.

"Lady Shar. But yes, her and those who saved me and taught me her ways. The Mother Superior. She made me who I am. At least as much as I can remember. She taught me, trained me, punished me when I failed her, which was often."

"Sounds a hell of a lot like abuse to me," I said with a bit more venom than I intended.

"What would you know about it, Dresden? You do not know Lady Shar's teachings."

"No, I don't. But I do know what it's like to be taught by someone you think you owe your life to, but they only care about themselves and their power." I snapped genuine anger lasing my tone.

"What do you mean? What happened to you?" Shaodowheart asked the indignation dropping from her voice.

This conversation was getting way too personal for my liking. But Shadowheart needed to know there were other options than serving Lady Shar. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. "To start, I was an orphan by the time I was seven, my mother was killed by a vampire and my father died in his sleep when I was a boy. I was in foster care for a while, until a man named Justin DuMorne adopted me. He trained me to be a wizard, trained me hard… punished me when I failed, which was often." I said looking at Shadowheart intently. "I thought I owed him everything, that he was a good teacher, a good father, but I was wrong. He wanted a loyal magical heavy to fight in his war and tried to bind me to his will. When I escaped, he sent a demon after me. I killed the demon and then I went home and killed Justin too. Burnt him and our old home to ash." I said a trace of pain, a child's pain mixing in my voice.

Shadowheart looked at me stunned. Lost for words. We stood there silently until she found them, "I'm sorry Harry. That would have been awful." She said sympathy and something else edging at her tone, fear.

"Never mind that. The point is Justin might have saved my life and trained me in the craft I love, but didn't owe him my life or my will. And neither do you."

"Shar is not like your teacher, nor is the Mother Superior. They did not bind me to their will. I gave up my memories, to protect Shar's secrets." Shadowheart said with renewed indignation masking the fear.

"If the Mother Superior really cared about you, or Shar for that matter. Why did they care about her secrets more than they cared about you?"

Shadowheart began to answer when I stopped her by raising my hand, "Don't answer Shadow, just… promise me you'll think on what I said."

Shadowheart looked at me, then nodded her head. The mark bit at her once again and I gave her a knowing look, before going off to bed.