Hi everyone,
I'm posting this chapter earlier than planned, as I'll be away for the rest of the week.
Music recommendation: Vivi's Radio Backup Channel - Rare VGM on Youtube, First Dream Guardian Meeting - Baldur's Gate 3 (OST).
I wish you all a good reading !
The journey to the village did not take long. Cleared of the mountainous terrain that forced them to make detours, the adventurers moved diligently forward. The lapping of the river marked their return to the surface; it was still broad daylight.
Looking up at the trees, Halsin raised his arm to welcome a raven. His gestures were surprisingly gentle for a man of his size. The bird snapped its beak several times – a language understood by the man it was talking to – then flew away:
"I sent him to Rath," the archdruid explained. "The Grove should be notified of our arrival."
The afternoon was drawing to a close when they finally caught sight of the gate. Several tieflings were working to consolidate it, while others were armed with shovels and explosive powder.
"Master Halsin," Zevlor greeted with relief. "You can't imagine how happy I am to see you again."
"We'll celebrate our reunion later, my friend. For the moment, it is time for war. What is our situation?"
"Rath came to me a little earlier. He gathered the druids and interrupted the Ritual of Thorns. But... Kagha was furious. They've isolated her near your quarters, awaiting your judgement."
"And your people?"
"Our children and elders are hidden in one of the cellars. They'll stay there until the goblins are repelled... or we die, trying. Since then, we've been laying traps and burying our stocks of oil and powder to slow them down as much as possible."
"Very well," the first druid agreed. "Minthara expects to find us desperate... Her troops won't anticipate your decoys."
With a pat on the shoulder, he took his leave and headed towards the heart of the Grove.
Changes were already visible: the carts had been replaced by several workbenches. A tiefling was busy sharpening knives and swords. Other refugees were reinforcing their clothes with leather, a poor protection against a sharp blade or arrow.
Nymuë was beginning to have serious doubts about her plan. How many fugitives would die tomorrow, because she had thought herself smarter than a warlord? If they had taken the risk of facing Minthara directly, would these people have suffered less?
"Your will must be of steel," Lae'zel said at her side. "Or your arm will tremble."
"Am I that transparent?"
"You're a strategist. But every good tactician is also a soldier. Among the githyankis, we find our unity in Vlaakith, the Immortal Queen. To slaughter in her name is our duty; to die for her is our ultimate reverence."
"What explains such devotion?" Nymuë asked.
"Vlaakith is perfection. Fear and beauty, life and non-life. Tl'a'vlaakith, chyrki. Tl'a'vlaakith, tavki. Tl'a'vlaakith, lash'a'kla. Only by following this creed can a fighter hope to become a kith'rak."
Faced with her puzzled expression, Lae'zel continued:
"The githyanki knights, our dragon riders. They carry out the will of our Queen from her home, Tu'narath, to all other planes. To receive the silver sword is my destiny!"
"Or how to describe real bloodshed as 'glory'." Shadowheart hissed.
The warrior prepared to retaliate, but the dark elf interrupted any spat: they had arrived at the druids' lair. The wooden idol and the incantators had disappeared, and only Kagha remained in the middle of the stone circle. When she caught sight of Halsin, she didn't blink.
"You dared to undertake the Ritual of Thorns without permission? You wanted to spill blood on these sacred lands? It would be easier to kill you than to bring you justice, Kagha. Instead, I'll have to hear your apologies."
"I owe you nothing," the former archdruidess uttured. "The goblins threatened our sanctuary, while you devoted yourselves exclusively to strangers! You chose to abandon us. I chose to protect us."
"Silence! The ritual is no more. Mercy is nature's gift, not mine. You have forgotten your place in the scheme of things; you nearly took lives!"
"That's the law of nature," Kagha objected.
"No, it's its dispute! But if that's what you believe, then nature will also determine your fate. I banish you Kagha, from this Grove and these lands. No druid will open his door to you, no animal will declared itself your friend. Perhaps once you've experienced the bitterness of exile, you'll understand that no protection is worth the harm you nearly caused. And only then will you be able to return as a novice."
Kagha looked at her former master in shock. She raised her hand towards Tee-la, her faithful viper, but the snake disappeared through the ferns. The destitute druidess watched around her: no one intervened. No voice was raised to defend her. Defeated, she turned to Halsin and gave him a short bow:
"As you wish, master."
Her voice was nothing but poison. With her head held high, she walked towards the gate and past the adventurers. There was a fire in her eyes:
"Are you sure you've made the right choice?" the dark elf murmured. "Minthara and the goblins are prowling around outside. "
"She'll know how to hide, if she's wise," Halsin replied. "Whatever happens to her now will depend on the Oak Father."
The companions watched Kagha walk away and, in unison, shared a bad feeling.
That evening, the atmosphere was tense. Nymuë remembered their very first night at the Grove. Overwhelmed by the bad news, the mood had been just as heavy; it was to be believed that the pure air of the druids didn't suit them.
Shadowheart and Lae'zel glared at each other, Astarion had gone hunting, and the dark elf had been pacing up and down ever since. The apprehension she'd felt earlier hadn't left, and - despite herself - she was worried about the rogue: the goblin troops weren't that far away...
She finally stood still, annoyed by her own attitude. The high elf was as unsympathetic as could be, but knew how to defend himself. There was no cause for alarm. However, this sudden nervousness made her realise something: the vampire's diva-like attitude – although execrable - prevented her from taking on a role on a daily basis. She didn't have to be firm or inflexible, as with Lae'zel, or cautious and measured, as with Shadowheart.
The game Astarion was playing involved no-one but himself. So,even though it was impossible for her to listen to him without rolling her eyes, did she managed to relax in his presence.
She felt a mixture of exasperation and relief when she saw the vampire return from the impression quickly disappeared however, when she noticed that he was covered in blood.
"Tell me it's not yours," she sighed wearily.
"Oh, there you are!" he cried. "My friend."
He chuckled as he wobbled. It wasn't an injury, Nymuë understood, but drunkenness.
"What the hell has happened to you?" she asked.
"I found a bear. He took a little of my blood... I took all of his."
Clearly, he was very pleased with himself. The idea that this was a crime within a druidic circle didn't seem to faze him.
"You seem to be in great shape," the dark elf observed. "No need to drink humanoid blood, then?"
"You're comparing plonk to vintage wine. You can make merry with either, but they're not the same!"
His eyes clouded over, suddenly lost in bad memories:
"But Cazador only fed me rats and bugs! I've had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told..."
He coughed, half-embarrassed, half-charming:
"… You're my first. Drinking the blood of thinking creature is a different thing entirely. For example, you, sweetheart, were delectable."
He watched her, batting his eyelashes, watching for a reaction: a blush perhaps, or an uncontrolled shiver. But Nymuë's expression couldn't have been more serious as she stared at him. Astarion sighed:
"My dear, are you suffering from an incurable disease apart from your parasite? Frankly, you seem to be allergic to anything funny."
"Can you tell me more about Cazador?" she asked.
Unsurprisingly, the rogue immediately frowned. Beneath the apparent irritation, the young woman saw a crack:
"Listen Astarion, you don't have to tell me anything. But since you admitted he was looking for you... "
"I don't want to say a damn thing. But I suppose that won't do anyone any good," he agreed reluctantly. "Fine. Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur's Gate. The patriarch of his coven, and a monster obsessed with power."
He had stopped staggering. The mere mention of his former master was enough to sober him up.
"Not political power or military power: I mean power over people. The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago… That night, I became his spawn, and he became my tormentor."
"What do you mean?" Nymuë whispered.
"A vampire's spawn is less than a slave. They're a puppet. We have no choice but to obey our master's commands. They speak, and our bodies react. It's all part of the deal. Sometimes he'd order us to submit to torture. Sometimes, he'd... have us torture ourselves. Whatever his weathervane mood settled on."
The dark elf closed her eyes; cruelty, she knew. But this? Losing control of your own body, being nothing more than a spectator of your torments?
"I'm sorry," she said softly to Astarion. "It must have been awful."
"Thank you," his comrade hissed, "but this isn't about sympathy. If you really want to help me, keep your eyes open. Especially in dark places."
"Protect me, and I'll do the same for you," she said. "After all, you still owe me 50% of your loot."
"35," the rogue corrected at once. "And you know, you don't need all these questions if you want to get to know me better..."
Nymuë hid a faint smile: he reminded her of a peacock. Astarion was all colours and feathers, carefully working every piece of his decorum. He could appear by turns mischievous, bloodthirsty or vulnerable. He was all the characters in a card game, at once jester, jack and queen.
"Now that I'm remembering our time together, the things we've shared, it would be a shame to limit myself to your neck. I'm growing to like the all package, honestly. And you clearly like me too..."
"Oh, really?" the dark elf scoffed. "Does your tadpole grant you the gift of double sight?"
"Come now, don't be coy. Your body's already given you away... I could feel it, as I was getting… lost in your neck. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"We obviously didn't have the same night. But I'm glad to hear that one of us had a good time."
"Indeed, and look how well it worked! I've never felt better, all thanks to you. So, let me repay you your noble sacrifice. We could take an evening to ourselves, get away from camp, have some privacy... I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere… intimate. Somewhere we can indulge in each other."
The young woman looked at him, confused: was he trying to… make a pass at her? Or compensating her?
"I didn't let you bite me because I wanted something in return," she replied.
"Of course, my angel. That's hardly the only reason... It's more of an excuse if anything. And we both know you want this, too."
"What exactly motivates you?"
"Darling, you ask yourself too many questions. Isn't it enough that I promised you a night you'll never forget? I swear to you that all I have in mind is an honest moment of pure debauchery."
"I helped you because you're my companion!" Nymuë exclaimed, screaming the last words.
She responded to his bewildered expression with a dark look. Something in her anger however seemed to called out to him:
"It's almost... touching," Astarion murmured.
For once, his voice didn't bear the slightest trace of mockery.
"I guess now is not the right time. Even if I risk dying of a broken heart."
"You're already dead," the dark elf observed soberly.
"How dare you! And you won't leave me anything to comfort me?"
His falsely indignant look was replaced by a mischievous pout. His fingers lifted her chin, before leaning forward. For a second, she got a full view of his well-defined face, as his palm traced a fiery path along her neck. She stopped him when his lips brushed hers.
"Good night, Astarion," she whispered.
She walked away without looking back. She knew she was too fragile to fall for the vampire's tricks. Oh, she wasn't questioning his 'talents', but would her heart survive it? The rogue must have guessed her fears because he opened his mouth, as if to add something... when Shadowheart's howl interrupted them.
A few steps away, Lae'zel had crushed the priestess with all her weight.
"Ch'k'l ghaik Vlaakith m'zath'ak! Honour wanted me to take your head in a fight, but it seems our parasites are forcing my hand."
"Walk away. Now. I won't warn you again!"
"Stop it!" Nymuë roared. "What is the matter with you?"
"Don't you see?" the warrior retorted. "She's changing!"
The dark elf froze in astonishment: Shadowheart's hands were shaking, but not from fear. Sweat was pouring down her forehead. With anguish, the young woman realised that she too was trembling. Her heart beat fasterand her breath caught in her throat. "Not now, not yet! We need a little more time, just a little more time...".
"Can you feel it crawling through you?" the githyanki continued. "Tendrils squirming in your chest, gripping your heart, piercing your belly… Your bones popping, your flesh swelling? I can. I see it in you, I feel it in me. We are lost."
"You're hysterical!" the priestess hissed. "In the end, that's what you wanted, isn't it? A good excuse to get the artifact back!"
"Silent! I will be quick with my blade. First you..."
Lae'zel's eyes turned to Nymuë, and for a brief moment their parasite connected. She saw in her mind a mixture of anguish and disgust. She, the great warrior... dying in disgrace and anonymity.
"… Then, the others," she whispered. "And finally, myself."
"That's not what you want, Lae'zel," the dark elf said softly. "You are strong. You'll survive this ordeal and your queen will be proud of you. As for your feud with Shadowheart, you don't need to be enemies!"
"What would you have, that we'd be friends? Tsk! Thieves aren't afforded such luxury."
"If we survive this night, I'll show you the full extent of my friendship." the half-elf said. "Oh, just let me up and I..."
"Give up your damn pride for once, both of you!" Nymuë cried.
The two women stopped fighting, stunned. Even the rogue raised an eyebrow:
"We're already overwhelmed by the number of opponents, and it's not going to get any easier. We can only count on each other! If we quarrel among ourselves, it's all over. Imagine for a moment what you could achieve if you directed your constant hostility towards our ennemies, rather than each other! They wouldn't stand a chance."
The githyanki warrior and the priestess remained silent, uncertain. Lae'zel stepped back, allowing Shadowheart to get to her feet. The gaze they exchanged was far from benevolent, but neither woman lunged for the other's throat.
"What about the ghaik tadpole?" Lae'zel asked. "Are you just going to ignore it?"
"If we were to transform, the symptoms would be stronger than a simple fever." Nymuë argued. "We're going to set up watch tours. But for the moment, no one is attacking anyone."
"Very well, I will wait. But know this: if this sickness does not pass come dawn..."
"You're going to give us a nice, gentle death," Astarion said. "I think everyone has understood. Now, since you've both given up entertaining me, shall we get some rest?"
With a final look of defiance, Shadowheart and Lae'zel returned to their respective tents, and the rogue volunteered for the first round. Nymuë felt divided: part of her was relieved that her comrades had come to their senses. Another burned to smash their skulls. Fighting in the middle of the camp, on the eve of a goblin raid! Were they in their right minds? The gods had cast a strange lottery on the day they had gathered them together. Either they were trying to prove that disparity was strength, or - more likely - they were taking bets.
With concern, she glanced down at her hands which were still trembling. "It's nothing," she thought. "I'm fine." Halsin had confirmed that their parasite was out of the ordinary, and they had the artifact.
She went to bed, feeling that their time was running out.
That night, Nymuë was haunted by terrible nightmares. Her fever hadn't subsided, and her head was about to explode. In her dreams, she was surrounded by mirrors reflecting the glow of bright orange eyes. "Look what a magnificent creature you've become," her image said. She refused to approach; her face was numb from the weight of tentacles...
"I came just in time," a voice whispered. "You are transforming."
Nymuë then knew with certainty that the tadpole had got the better of her mind.
For Elyon was leaning over her.
Not the Elyon she had known, with her colorful wings and happy laughter. A more... adult, version of what she might have become. Her hands touched her skin, calming her fever and driving away the pain. Her hair, somewhere between blond and red, was longer than she remembered. But her green irises hadn't changed at all.
"Impossible," she murmured. "You're not there. You can't be there."
"And yet, I've saved you before."
Nymuë saw herself again, tumbling from the Nautiloïd. Her body was falling at full speed, plunging inevitably towards the ground... Until a wave of energy envelopped her and stopped her in her tracks, in extremis.
"And I'm here to save you again."
The strange apparition stood up. She wore gleaming armour, a golden paladin repelling the illithid darkness. She held out her hand:
"Don't worry. You'll not become a mind flayer. Not while I'm around."
"No," Nymuë thought. Elyon could not help her: something was wrong. This stranger, this... benefactress, wasn't her little fairy. It was an illusion, a falsification. She was being mocked. Refusing the help offered, the dark elf got up on her own.
"You have doubts," Elyon noticed, pained. "I understand. You're wondering how I survived. Why have I abandoned you all these years? And you're right to do so: I'm not the Elyon you knew. I am the fragment of her that has continued to live inside you; an echo, returned from the depths, to keep you safe."
"And what do you want to protect me from, exactly?" Nymuë retorted.
"We haven't much time. So listen closely..."
The apparition raised her arm in the direction of the landscape around them: a starry sky as far as the eye could see. Clusters of rock floated in the air, sometimes near, sometimes far. They shone with an unearthly glow.
The Astral Plane. The ocean between the different worlds, the bridge linking each universe. Only certain species - such as the githyankis or the illithids - navigated these waters: for all other peoples, they were legendary.
However, in the heart of the meteorites, a battle was raging. A gigantic skull-shaped vessel was being harassed by luminous silhouettes. One of them dived towards the force field protecting it. Its attack was devastating, but the ship held firm; the false Elyon staggered back.
"What you're witnessing is the fight for the fate of Faerun," she said. "A fight we are losing. You can change that, but only if you embrace your potential."
"What do you mean?" The dark elf asked.
"Your parasite. Your instinct is to resist the power it gives, but you must accept it, nurture it. I will keep it from consuming you, but for the sake of both of us, you must learn to wield it."
"That's out of the question. It's too dangerous!"
"Then, our enemy has already won."
The figures around the ship gathered, preparing for the next assault. The ground benath the feet of the two women began to tremble.
"I have to go," Elyon whispered worriedly. "The ennemy is closing in. I will be back."
"No, wait! ", Nymuë cried. "Elyon!"
The force field exploded, disintegrating the meteor they were standing on. The stranger froze the blast with difficulty, before turning to the musician. She threw her backwards, away from the fight.
"Wake, now. You'll feel better, I promise."
END NOTES
Kagha can actually be banished from the Grove by Halsin, but there are specific conditions: she must have executed Arabella first... Otherwise, Halsin simply demotes her to the rank of novice. Personally, I've always found banishment to be the 'fairest' option - she's testing her own medicine, so to speak.
As for the guardian, it was important to me that they be part of the story. Not just an 'impressive' character for Nymuë; that's why I chose to create an adult version of Elyon.
Thank you for reading, I'll see you soon!