The Grove welcomed them that night. Morale was low, and each companion had isolated themselves in their tent. Nettie had no cure to offer them. The expert on the subject was her master, Halsin, but his knowledge had disappeared with him. The only salvation came in the form of a wyvern venom, quick and painless. Lae'zel had not appreciated the suggestion, and Nettie now lay unconscious in her own lab. From what Shadowheart had told them, the warrior had simply knocked her out.
Since then, they have been considering their options. The priestess thought there was a chance that Halsin was still alive in the goblin camp. However, this involved a lot of risk for little certainty, not to mention that they had no idea how numerous their ennemies were. The goblins who had attacked them today hadn't behaved as usual, as far as they knew. They had been strategic and methodical; without their intervention, Aradin and his men wouldn't have survived. Such a disposition suggested a strong group.
On the other hand, the githyanki creche - whose success Lae'zel guaranteed - was only accessible if the goblin threat was averted. The confrontation seemed inevitable.
They were less destitute than the day before, with a better arsenal and reserves of medical supplies. But their attack would have to be well thought-out: they'd need to spy on the goblin camp, find a breach, and possibly create a diversion to draw the main troops away.
For the moment however, it was time to rest... and ask questions.
"What made you stop being a traveling artist?" Shadowheart said from her tent.
Nymuë grimaced. She had expected this subject to come up at some point. After their little meeting with Alfira, it was natural for her comrades to wonder. Their precarious situation meant they had to rely on each other, but she didn't feel in the mood to talk about her personal heartbreaks.
"It didn't pay well enough," she replied simply. "The city offers more stability. "
"You're causing quite a stir in society," Astarion said. "I've lost count of those reminding us that you were a drow, in case the evidence had escaped us. Was your audience as receptive?"
The high elf lay nonchalantly on his bunk. Nymuë remembered their recent 'agreement', justifying this anything but innocent question. The rogue was gathering information. An amicable settlement depended on the goodwill of the person you were dealing with, a risk few people were willing to take.
"Oh, I was a real star," she hissed. "But indeed, spectators weren't coming for my talents. I got an interesting offer that took me to Baldur's Gate, which made me decide to hang it up."
"Do you miss playing music?" the priestess asked.
"Very much," Nymuë found herself replying. "It's been years since I've performed. For a bard... For those who, like me, practice magic through their art, this abstention can be complicated. This impacts our abilities to cast spells. If I feel ready enough to wield the bow again... I don't know how much the arcane will answer me."
"These skills could be useful in battle," Lae'zel growled as she sharpened her sword. "You should try to practice them. But no noise."
"Please, Nymuë," Shadowheart sighed, rolling her eyes. "Play an instrument, but in silence."
The two women exchanged a few sharp remarks before retiring for the night. Nymuë stayed awake. As an elf, she could go several days without sleeping, provided she meditated. This might prevent her for having nightmares. As she settled down, she realised that she was far from being the only one to escape the welcoming arms of the night.
Astarion was still lying by the campfire, staring intently at the starry sky. She hesitated; ever since they met, the high elf had seemed to her like a snake charmer. Except that he was both the piper and the animal, alternately seductive or threatening.
If Lae'zel and Shadowheart each had their own temper, Nymuë had been able to establish some sort of dynamic with her comrades. On the other hand, she didn't know where to stand with the rogue. She rose, and went to meet him:
"It's quite a sight!" he greeted her. "The stars, I mean. I could take or leave your chin."
The young woman barely held back a sigh. Instead, she watched her companion attentively, whose sickly face seemed to have improved considerably. Once again, he had scorned dinner, preferring to 'take a walk' around the grounds. Nevertheless, he seemed more relaxed, almost serene, if not friendly. Determined to be cordial, Nymuë decided to go ahead:
"They are magnificent tonight," she nodded, looking at the sky.
"You can see them from Baldur's Gate of course, but not with such clarity. It got me thinking... Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring, when we'll arrive at this gith creche. Will we find out how to bring the worm under control? Will this... little adventure of ours be over?"
"Probably," Nymuë thought. "If we get through this, I don't think I'll go back to Baldur's Gate. Truth be told, I was about to leave when the mind flayers captured me. But nothing prevents us to travel together until our paths differ."
"Good" he whispered, getting up. "I don't want you to see you run off just yet."
Nymuë jumped; the rogue had suddenly – voluntarily – reduced the distance between them. His gestures were slow and studied: he was pulling out all the stops.
"You're quite the ally after all" he continued. "Traversing Avernus, surviving the crash… surviving everything that followed. I'm not easily impressed by people, but you're stronger that I gave you credit for."
"Tell me about it." Despite her frank amusement, the young woman felt slightly embarrassed by her partner's proximity. This was undoubtedly his intention; to disconcert her, and invade her personal space. Although aware of the banter, Nymuë couldn't hide her discomfort. It had been a long time since she had played the game of seduction, and she wasn't sure she wanted to try it with Astarion.
"I seek to survive, just like you," she replied calmly.
"Yes, we're more similar than I thought."
His eyes lingered on her face, occasionally descending to the nape of her neck. The dark elf shuddered; there was something in his gaze, a voracity more akin to a hungry animal than a heartbreaker. He was really too close.
"Is everything all right?" she asked, as she walked away.
"Hm?" he murmured. "Oh, I was leagues away. I just need to... get some air... Clear my head. I'll see you later I'm sure. Sleep tight."
He retired to his tent, all affectation gone. Disturbed, Nymuë went to her bunk, but this time she was sure that sleep would definitely not come.
The next day, the adventurers headed for the mountain pass. According to their map, they first had to follow a river near an ancient village. The place had been abandoned around a hundred years ago, leaving only ruins.
In this area they found evidence of their unfortunate accident with the Nautiloid; sections of vegetation were burnt away, and illithid debris - barely recognisable - was buried under clods of earth. The ship must have flown over the area when it crashed. Nymuë found it hard to believe that all this has already happened two days earlier.
They reached the bridge around midday, and stopped for lunch. The dark elf accompanied Shadowheart to fill their canteens at the river. She was still distracted by their cunning comrade, who was pacing back and forth. He had been fidgeting all morning, pretending not to be used to long country walks. When Lae'zel had recommended that he have a bite to eat, he had nodded, without touching his bowl... again.
Following her gaze, the priestess gave a small sneer:
"Do you know what I think?" she said. "In my opinion, the magistrate is a picky eater, and does not appreciate rations of hard bread and dried meats. I'm sure he's found some more refined fare at the Grove, and is slipping away to feast elsewhere."
Nymuë reflected. It could have been plausible, yes... if she didn't already know that Astarion was anything but a lawyer. Still, there must have been some truth in what Shadowheart said, for no sooner had they returned from the river than the high elf announced his desire to stretch his legs.
"Need to be accompanied?" the dark elf asked insidiously.
"Not at all, darling. Enjoy your snack, you're so irritable when you're hungry. I'll be back shortly."
She watched him walk away, adding that more eccentricity to her list. He quickly returned however, as the three women finished their meal:
"We're not alone," he whispered. "I heard screams further away. A man and a woman."
They let Astarion lead the way. Upstream of the river, two humans were working around a third individual, lying on the ground. The latter wasn't responding to their calls:
"He is dying," the rogue declared. "He lost too much blood."
"How do you know?" Shadowheart asked. "I don't see any injury at this distance."
"I... Well, when I spotted their presence, I've been hiding. I was able to observe the scene more closely."
In the back of her mind, Nymuë could feel her parasite stirring. Something was drawing her to these strangers. Without even realising it, she stood up and approached them:
"You're a true soul," the human murmured. "You can't die. Please, stay with us."
"Brynna, I don't think he's conscious," her companion panicked. "Can you hear us, Ed?"
She was now very close to them. The call in her head was urgent, focused on the faces of the two strangers. The woman drew her sword:
"You! Not a step closer!" she roared.
A strange symbol appeared on the face of the traveller, without her reacting. It seemed invisible to the naked eye, identifiable only by their tadpole. Were their comrades too feeling this surge of power? Nymuë struggled to control the euphoria that took hold of her, while her parasite quivered with contentment. She was experiencing it again, that feeling of fulfillment... of authority.
The words that came out of her mouth weren't her own:
"I'll go where I please," she ordered.
She was overcome with fatigue as the worm withdrew, satisfied... and sated. It was digesting something she would never get back. Her eyes fell on Brynna, who seemed curiously absent:
"I'm so so sorry. It's our brother, true soul Edowin. He's injured and I... I wasn't thinking."
Nymuë crouched down in front of the man. Now that she was close, she could see the wounds Astarion had mentioned; deep gashes caused by claws as long as daggers. When their eyes met, the dark elf felt that the dying man could see beyond her, behind her head. She knew nothing of why, but she was certain he knew about her tadpole.
"Protect them," he moaned. "Andrick, Brynna, mind the true soul. She will... She… "
A groan escaped his lips, and his agony ended. The man named Andrick squeezed his colleague's shoulder:
"He's with the Absolute, now," he declared. "Are you really true souls? Our brother, Edowin, was chosen like you. Have you orders for us?"
Nymuë looked at them in amazement. Glancing back briefly, she could only notice the same daze in her three companions. Lae'zel pushed her forward, while Astarion silently articulated : "Play along."
"Such insolence!" she exclaimed imperiously. "Shouldn't I be the one asking questions? You have just let one of our people die."
"I... I didn't want to... " Andrick stammered.
"We're only recruits, ma'am," Brynna replied fervently. "But we dream of becoming true souls. To be selected by the Absolute to carry her sacred promise. You have only one word to say, and we'll act: your desires are her commands. She grants you the power to inforce her will."
"When the time comes," her brother continued, "the true souls – you - will rule. That's why we were looking for fugitives…"
"Tell us more," Shadowheart said.
"Survivors of that ship that crashed farther east of here. We don't know what they look like, but the Absolute wants them found, at any cost. But instead of them, Edowin fell on an owl bear, an angry one. We managed to drag him away but... the beast's claws have already done their work."
"Then, it's obvious." Astarion suggested softly. "You must find the creature and avenge your brother."
Nymuë felt a second wave of energy, this time emanating from the rogue. With squinted eyes, he studied the two fanatics, like a cat facing a mouse.
"Are… are you sure?" Andrick exclaimed.
"It's killed one of us!" Brynna roared. "It's killed Edowin. It's an enemy of the Absolute. You're right, sir. The beast must be destroyed. Your weapon, Andrick!"
She ran screaming towards a cave below, her brother on her heels. Nymuë was too dismayed to react... And Astarion far too pleased with himself:
"At least this will save us from being chased by two brainless idiots!" he exclaimed.
"Chased for what?" Shadowheart hesitated.
"But our tadpoles, of course! Don't you understand? We still haven't transformed yet. We mysteriously survived the destruction of an illithic ship... And now we have the ability to influence others? These parasites are anything but ordinary…"
"Ignore them," Lae'zel spat. "Deny them! This is nothing but a disease. And every use will sicken us further."
"Nonsense! Any power freely given is a power well received. And this is a valuable power, indeed…"
"It's only valuable if we understand it," the priestess retorted. "And we don't. Not yet, at least."
Her companions turned to her, waiting for her judgement. They seemed to have quickly formed an opinion on the matter... As for her, Nymuë had more conflicting feelings.
"These powers worry me as much as the situation we find ourselves in," she said. "Perhaps we should try to study them before making a decision."
Astarion pouted, and Lae'zel hissed that as far as she was concerned, the choice was made. Only Shadowheart approved of her cautious logic.
As they retraced their steps, Nymuë stood back, pensive. She hated the fact that the parasite could take control of her mind. But that feeling earlier, in front of Andrick and Brynna... She had felt invincible. Invulnerable. All her fears and anxieties had been swept away in an instant. Why skirt the walls, bow her head and fear rejection from others, when this power simply allowed her to take? She had seen it, when it had opened up to her; if she embraced it, she would never have to put herself down again. To smile politely in the face of yet another insult. All she had to do was hold out her fingers and...
The young woman took a long breath. No. Agreeing to let herself be dominated by an illithid tadpole was unnatural, abject. Lae'zel was right: by abdicating, she would only be enslaving herself to this force. She would think she was dominating it, but she would be subject to its appetites. And then, what would differentiate her from a mind flayer? When she had crushed Brynna's consciousness, she hadn't controlled that energy. She'd just... let it possess her.
At the next observation, Nymuë froze in disgust.
Why then, but why had it done her so much good?
END NOTES :
Nymuë is seduced by the illithid powers... but will she give in ?
Thanks for reading and see you next week !