Searching for supplies took longer than expected. Willow wasn't certain about it, but Karlach and Gale felt it was worthwhile to check for traps in a few areas that seemed questionably important. Willow was too worn out to bother trying her normal approach: guess it wasn't trapped and call for Astarion if it was. A bookcase with a still intact glass door in the top seating area of the theatre was not trapped but was locked.
"Hmm? You need my assistance? How nice to be of use. But what you truly mean is you couldn't just force the damn thing open, I take it?" The drip of sarcasm slid off Astarion's words with a teasing smile.
"Well, when you say it with such honeyed tones, no. Perhaps I ought to just turn into a Deep Rothé and do it myself." Willow couldn't help but give a half smile and try to quickly hide it.
"And risk you hazarding some poor book for Gale? Or getting glass in your eyes?" Astarion's mock hurt tone made it harder not to smirk. He continued, "Perish the thought. Some things must be done by those with the proper knowledge; not just anyone, no matter the comedy in their attempts."
"I do thank you, Astarion. I hope you know it." Willow dropped her smirk, earnestly trying to smooth the small downturn of the vampire's mouth.
"Of course, darling. Now stop that tone, you sound too grave. And you look half in one. The sooner I do this the sooner we're done and back to camp."
Willow felt the urge to argue but realized in the same breath Astarion was right. She was far past her usual self. Gale, for all his conjecture was not off the mark, the Shadow-Cursed Lands were oppressive. Willow had half a mind to assume that every druid who stood on these lands felt the same. Choked, alienated and gasping for the natural energies they could call on to aid them.
It's almost as if the natural energy is gone; it's smothered. The palest blush of nature is present; but even a druid trained in spore magic would struggle here. The land petrifies and does not rot.
Willow again cast a look over towards the bodies of the nurses and Malus. She began wondering what the implications of failing to rot might mean for the undead they'd found here.
Gerringothe was all gold...
Willow was interrupted by the laughter of her friends. Astarion had deftly unlocked the cabinet of books. Gale began looking over the leatherbound tomes and stored several in his pack. Karlach was mid-laugh after pretending to punch Astarion's arm for a job well done. Willow watched with a small bark of laughter as Astarion dodged well out of the way but feigned hurt and indignity at the attempt on him.
Observing her friends, Willow chuckled quietly to herself, it was truly a motley group they formed.
You would find less variety in a magpie's nest.
Willow took another breath, glad to feel less strain and heat. Karlach's attempts at punching Astarion's arm had devolved into playful bickering; even Gale was laughing at the show.
Willow relaxed, pulling in a few more deep breaths until they no longer stung.
"Enough. I'm hoping to make it to camp before whatever passes as night falls here." Willow gave a shaky smile. Her companions to lesser degrees returned her smile. Karlach's smile was radiant, Gale's smile seemed genuine but was subdued by the exhaustion on his face. Astarion flashed his fangs in a friendly manner, but the smile stopped short of his eyes.
Willow winced a little inwardly at Astarion's strained smile. She'd seen it readily in the early days of their adventures. Back then it rang out varying shades, 'you're helping me, but I don't like this' and 'quite nice, and now we're stuck with something more to do'. This was the first time it read to her as 'Why? Why are you doing this?'
After a few more choice searches on their way out of the operating theatre and surrounding rooms they found in addition to the books a few useful items: questionable apothecary tools, dried herbs riddled with spiderwebs (the webbing was the real find Willow thought- it could be a helpful bandage of last resort), 2 small, sealed kegs of wine, a scroll of Cure Wounds that looked like it was purposely hidden from use, a pair of enchanted leather gloves, and a set of fine-toothed combs in a variety of materials: bone or shell, polished wood and metal. Left behind were the written notes from the nurses on grotesque gambles made at the expense of patients, scribbled last words and wills to family, ciphered logbooks of items taken from the dead for Thorm's cause and the children's toys.
There was another wing to the building to explore but after the fight with Malus Willow had to admit she was in no mood to test the group's luck further. Her neck and left shoulder felt stiff and icy, a parting gift from the surgeon's needle. She doubted her companions would even consider going further into the House of Healing before a rest themselves.
We'll be back in the morning light. Or this land's imitation of it.
The trek back to camp was slower than Willow or any of the company wanted; pausing at the slightest sign of Shadows, or other threats. Willow began to grow frustrated, Gale and Karlach kept shooting looks to one another when they thought she wasn't aware. She appreciated the concern, but it gnawed on her. Adia had always told Willow while many druids worked alone for long stretches, they were still wise enough to accept help from others; it was a wisdom Adia felt Willow was slow to acquire.
A group of three, possibly four Shadows, or shadow-cursed beings stalked ahead at an intersection of roads in the old marketplace near the edge of Reithwin Town. It brought the foursome to a standstill crouched down behind a low wall and a dilapidated wagon.
"I fear we're going to take all night to reach camp. Not that I'm particularly upset by this shade of the evening," Astarion began whispering, "but this is frankly unseemly. Is there nothing else to be done but wait them out?"
"Are you volunteering to remove our obstacles for us Astarion?" Gale asked in a dry yet genial manner.
"Well, no. Not alone at least. But isn't there some, I-I don't know, spell or somesuch, that you've held onto that would be useful to bypass these things?" Impatience crept into Astarion's voice, and volume with it.
Gale raised a hand to his temple and began slowly massaging it before replying in slightly icier tones, "I suppose if we want to take a breather, I can then cast Invisibility on myself, and one other. But that would leave you, though I'm sure you've thought of yourself, and whomever else, without. I haven't any potions or scrolls or, somesuch, as you so eloquently put it."
"Oh, enough of it. I'd rather wade out there and get in the mix than this." Karlach said as she rolled her eyes.
"I could almost agree." Willow's voice was hoarse, she hardly needed to try whispering. She reached into her component pouch, drawing out a spruce sprig and mistletoe leaves before promptly pulling her other hand up as if cupping something.
"Sol Invictus." Willow whispered.
A tiny flame danced in her left palm; warm, pale and flickering. Willow joined her hands; the delicious smelling smoke drifted up almost lazily through her fingers as the mistletoe and spruce crackled in her palms. A moment passed; Willow could feel the ash settling in the palms of her hands.
"Evanesco!"
Willow pulled her palms apart and blew the ash at her three companions.
Dumbfounded stares from three sets of eyes on ash freckled faces blinked back at her.
"Oh, for Mystra's sake- Willow, really, some warning next time. The ashes are still hot."
"This tastes like every bread roll I had in the Hells." Karlach quipped while wiping the ashes off her lower lip, "I do not miss it."
"Lovely, simply wonderful. I hope there was a good reason for that." Astarion drawled simultaneously trying to brush ashes out of his hair and blink them from his eyelashes.
"Apologies, but this should help us remain below notice of others, if we stick together and try not to draw any attention to ourselves for a time." Willow began, "I've had great luck using this spell before when I needed to make sure my path wasn't traceable. I was thinking I didn't want anything to follow us back to camp, so it will be doubly helpful." Willow finished rather lamely.
"Nice trick Tiger, but yeah, a head's up next time. Maybe avoid the eyes." Karlach grinned and gave Willow a wink.
Waiting for just a few minutes more the group moved a quietly as they could, sneaking past the market intersection and the small group of shadow-cursed humans. Going south they headed for the tollhouse and bridge out of town. As they traveled Willow began to worry her concentration on the spell might not last until they left the town; they still had a way to go, and they were hindered from moving quickly by the need to sneak past unfriendly eyes. Her head was beginning to thrum with a dull ache, she attributed it to holding onto the spell while worn and sore from battle. Almost beside her was Gale, limping after the fight with Malus.
As they pressed on deeper into the town Willow and Gale caught sight of more Shadows and large black shadowed hounds roaming in the open areas nearby. Willow laid a hand on Karlach's shoulder keeping her from stepping out into one of the beast's line of sight.
"An ambush from those would have been a debacle given our current state." Gale whispered.
Willow and Karlach nodded in agreement. Astarion shrugged with a face full of boredom. Willow met his eyes and the hint of a smile crept onto Astarion's face. Willow swallowed a small chuckle.
The remaining trek to the tollhouse was uneventful. Feeling the end of her concentration approaching Willow was glad to look back at Reithwin Town. The dull weight and throb of her headache eased as she felt it slip away. Ahead lay the trail through the Shadow-Cursed lands, twisting and daunting to Last Light and the group's camp. Willow girded herself to face it as she thought of the gruesome finds they'd stumbled upon before: A haunted house with a game of hide and seek, the slain Tieflings, the merciless Shadar-Kai hunter. Fortunately, the leg to camp was far kinder than previous trips. Aside from the threat of Shadows and a few hostile plants there was no bloodshed. Willow felt confident enough at one point to gather plants for special use.
Alchemist or apothecary how confused they are that think one for the other. A donkey might be a unicorn if not for the description of a horn...
"Hey Tiger, I know this," Karlach gestured broadly, "means a whole lot to you. But Gale is still limping along, and I don't think Fangs; for all his virtues, will help him if you catch my drift..."
Willow paused, her sickle at the base of one more Black oleander. Her red friend raised pertinent points; she was lingering, distracted on other matters. Helpful or not this was a task for another time. Willow felt exposed and cold at the gist of Karlach's point. Karlach may not have meant to shame her, but Willow felt the sting.
The living are safe, the lost I'm trying to find, and the dead are almost at peace.
"I'm sorry, yes, we should press on to camp. Won't happen again." Willow managed to get out.
"Yeah, just wanted you to remember. I'm sure you had reason." Karlach gave an uneasy grin to Willow. Karlach walked back to where Gale sat as he said something to Astarion who leaned his shoulders and hip on the low branches of a nearby tree. Willow couldn't help but notice the swing of his waist as Astarion pushed off his resting spot and walked toward the trail. Willow sheathed her sickle and made her way to her friends.
The arrival at camp was fortunately timed, Arabella had arrived and was chatting with Shadowheart and Withers. Scratch and Hoot the Owlbear cub were running amok excitedly behind the young Tiefling. The camp seemed comfortable enough; Lae'zel and Wyll were busying themselves with camp chores and Halsin was tending the campfire, apparently having taken on the preparations for dinner in Gale's stead. Whatever simmered in the pot on the fire smelled good enough to Willow that her stomach shamelessly growled.
"Ah, I see you have returned safely to us" Halsin greeted his returning companions. "There's stew enough left for you all. Wyll opened a nice bottle of some red wine I understand."
"Cheers to that." Karlach yelled jogging to her tent. She threw down her pack and ax outside her tent, then ducked inside and emerged out of her combat leathers ready to relax. Gale and Astarion found their ways to their tents, both changing to less battle worn attire. Willow put her pack down by the fire, she felt remarkably happy to be back at camp. The air was clearer here by the lakeside and Isobel's protective curtain felt more effective, almost cozy after walking the terrain of Shadow-Cursed Lands with only the pixie's blessing and her own magic. Willow wrinkled her nose at her recollection of the first time she'd cast Daylight in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. It was as they entered; Astarion and Shadowheart had scoffed at the attempt to belay the darkness while Gale had praised the use of a spell of fine caliber. 'The right tool from the toolbox,' he had mused aloud. It had worked well. Willow in that moment felt for the first time in a long while that her attempts to help had been fruitful. Though it was Astarion's snarky retort about not fearing the sun in the Shadow-Cursed Lands that caused Willow to laugh out loud and made her think to try the spell.
Gods, that felt like years ago, but it was only four days past.
Willow stooped by the pot on the fire to serve herself dinner. The smell of roasted rabbit, stewed herbs and mushrooms made her mouth water. Wyll joined her at the fire.
"Ah, our intrepid leader is here. Battle weary and hungry as befitting your valor. What news from your trip into the shadows?"
"Not much I'm afraid to report. Though I see Arabella made it here," Willow began, casting a look to the young girl and Withers.
"A most fortunate addition to our camp. Arabella will be safer here than most anywhere else. She can come and go to the inn and see her young friends. Like them, I fear she has seen too much already, they are so young to have seen so much ruin. Halsin spoke to her as she arrived. I gather you agreed to find her parents? But they aren't among you now returning, a misfortune to be sure." Wyll said, beginning to gaze into the campfire.
"Erh, yes, unfortunate I would agree. There is a house of-" Willow stopped short of saying 'healing', "-a house of maladies in the town. We found her in the graveyard nearby. She has a strange magic to her- I haven't seen its like anywhere. It is certainly druidic, but also, I find it hard to say; it is almost divine in that it snares the departed souls of this land. But by the same token it could almost be infernal." Willow too began to gaze into the campfire, not seeing the flames but rather the vines of Arabella's spell binding the Shadow among the tombstones and weeds.
Could her theft of, and contact with the idol of Silvanus have sparked a celestial resonance in her? Or did it bind Nature to the infernal in her already?
"Hmph, that sounds like the job for a cleric, or paladin to figure. Or maybe an Archdruid." Wyll raised his chin in a gesture to Halsin. Willow nodded curtly. They talked through the fight in the operating theatre as Willow ate, where she failed to provide detail Wyll stepped in. He gallantly providing extra flourishes to the fight as he saw fit. Willow was half convinced the crew could have stormed Moonrise and survived unscathed if they fought the way Wyll imagined them capable by the end of it.
"You know as well as I that the best tales are always based in truth. Truthfully, on that note, I must say I'm tired. Another day may greet us tomorrow if we're lucky. Rest up fearless caller of the storm, Willow of the copper hair." Wyll smirked and mocked a salute to Willow. The grin Willow beamed she was sure showed Wyll all the love and humor she had for him. His attitude reminded Willow achingly of her youngest brother: clever, a lover of tales with his head partially in the clouds but always there to back up his friends and loved ones in a pinch if it came down to it.
Willow rose, dusted herself off and looked around camp as Wyll took to his tent. Lae'zel was on watch, per her own request, Halsin appeared to be whittling something in front of his tent, Astarion was in his tent. Willow could hear the turning of velum pages from the tome she's given him. She saw Karlach enjoying a bowl of stew and a goblet of wine, relaxed on a bear belt. As Willow walked over to Karlach's tent elsewhere in camp she heard Wither's voice in a scolding tone speaking with Arabella, or possibly Scratch and Hoot.
"Hey soldier, copper for your thoughts? You look to be doing alright after that prick and his uh, well, prick."
"Yes, thanks to you. Just sore and cold, oddly enough. Can I trouble you? I want to change from my armor-" Willow said with a small laugh.
"You mean you don't want to strip to your skin in front of the whole camp? You could really light some fires if you wanted to that way." Karlach interrupted, her smile blazed, and her eyes were full of the laughter Willow knew Karlach missed from her time spent in the Hells. Willow smirked at the oncoming mirth.
Karlach pressed on after a spoonful of the rabbit stew, "Five coppers say Halsin howls if he sees you, and Gale breaks out in a cold sweat." She continued, "one silver if Lae'zel doesn't demand you duel, on the spot. Two silvers if Fangs offers you a silk robe. Absolutely nothing if Wyll or Shadowheart try to distract the attention from you to protect your modesty."
"Those are, um, erh, generous bets. But I will be changing out of view- from everyone, including you since you seem keen to tout my bounties to the whole camp. You have stew on your top, by the way." Willow shot a look and an eyebrow up in challenge to Karlach.
"Fair enough, thanks. Just saying thou-" Karlach's eyes darted from Willow, "Oi, Hoot! Not the cured meat! 'scuse me- " Karlach started off across the campsite as Hoot the owlbear ran guiltily into the nearby reeds with a bag of salami.
Willow let herself laugh at the scene before ducking into Karlach's tent to change. The armor she normally wore was light enough for her, but had some weight to it and Willow's joints were singing with soreness after the protracted fights in Reithwin Town. Reluctantly Willow took off the gloves she wore that allowed her to wield the Phalar Aluve. The sword soon felt heavy and uneven in her hands as she disarmed herself of it. She changed into her normal set of soft road worn clothes, taking a moment to also wipe blood from some of her wounds before redressing and braiding her hair back into a loose rope; her headache was still on her temples and anything too tight sent small white flares into Willow's vision.
Willow left her friend's tent to put her armor and weapons in a tight pack near her bed roll by the fire. The fire popped and cracked like a breathing beast. Willow looked into it for but a moment and found she wanted two things: to lie down and dream, or to go for a run into the night through the forest as it was back home. Neither option looked likely tonight; Willow spotted Gale waiting beside his tent, looking eager to talk. Furthermore the Wood of Sharp Teeth was miles and miles away- it may as well have been on the moon's surface for Willow. Tired and feeling squeezed to the last of her magic Willow knew she needed as long a rest as possible; but she had promised Gale she would speak with him. Weary and sore Willow made her way across camp to the wizard.
It took Willow a moment to notice the arcane shimmer to Gale as he waited for her. A hum of energy sang in the air and the outline of her friend against the darkening horizon gleamed.
As she approached Gale spoke, "Good evening, I'm here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep." the Gale-that-was-not-really-Gale said smiling, "He wishes to extend to you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale."
Willow's eyebrow shot up in a questioning hook, "Very well, should I be concerned?"
"From what I can gleam from the portion of Gale's mind open to me, no; though he does wish to continue his questions for you from earlier." came the response.
"Well then, lead on" Willow told the facsimile of Gale. Instead, he gestured to a pathway leading off. Willow followed it, a soft illumination lined the way. It felt so peaceable on the path- no chill or soreness barely a step into it. Willow felt detached from her wounds and direction. Anywhere might be north or south.
All geraniums and poppies to walk this way now.
Willow frowned, beginning to feel lost, tired, and somewhat frustrated. It all faded as she followed further along to find herself in a meadow under a swarm of stars and dancing astral lights. It made her feel a wonder she hadn't since she was a girl. Willow grinned wide and unabashed.
The wheeling of the stars overhead. So sure, and still changeable.
Willow noticed Gale seated a short distance ahead in the swaying grass, weeping steaks of magic flowed upwards from his gesturing hands. Willow could tell from her limited arcane teaching that Gale was weaving a substantial spell. Willow respected Gale's prowess with the Weave. They had diametric views on magic. Willow knew in her bones that magic came to her through all elements of nature; Gale knew all of creation was an extension of the Weave. Gale had been a follower and even lover of the goddess Mystra: She, who is a font to the Arcane and Keeper of the Weave. Willow was an initiate of the Circle of the Moon, a follower of Chauntea, She who Reaps the Harvest; guardian of the Cycle.
Willow knew Gale would love to lecture a point, his words about the Shadow-Cursed Lands and her magic rang in her ears. She was glad to sit by him to hear what he might say if it illuminated anymore of the Shadow-Cursed lands. The sky above kept her eye as she approached her friend, almost stumbling as she watched his handwork. In her distraction Willow almost failed to return Gale's greeting.
"... the cradle of Eternity. The timelessness of lovers. The most beautiful of fantasies." Gale broke off, a warm smile on his lips and an almost mischievous look in his eyes as he looked to Willow.
"Was this," Willow glanced upwards again with her unabashed smile, "all your doing? It's wonderful! How many can see this?" Willow was incredulous that above her hung the stars, unobstructed and bright in the Shadow- Cursed lands.
"It is my doing. Though it's not likely visible for many others than our camp here on the shore. And perhaps Last Light. It's not a trick I can do too often, but tonight is different." Gale explained.
Willow cocked her head as she caught a worrying melancholy to Gale's words.
"I know you had reservation about my, uh, prowess here, as the land is not healthy," Willow began, "perhaps it is too hard for me to find a root here that allows me to feel the fecund leyline of elemental energy-"
"No, not so much that. Though I do worry you aren't paying mind to the toll the land has on you." Gale paused stroking his chin before continuing almost distractedly, "Hmm, perhaps it is the leyline aspect, that's a curious point. Did you know- actually, no, that is not the most pressing point of why I asked you join me here." Gale shot a concerned look over to Willow as she sat down in the swaying grass next to him.
Willow nodded, biting into her lower lip in thought following Gale's cadence.
This is about the other wizard's message, Elminster. Gale's font of magic is the concern.
Willow looked to the sky above her. The one of Gale's design, though so true and clear it could only be discerned by the keenest eye as arcane design. After a moment Gale began to describe the reservations he harbored on the task Mystra gave him.
"You have such talent and care for your craft," Willow began slowly, her voice hoarse after only listening as Gale spoke, his thoughts spilling forth freely. "It comes from a deep love. And curiosity. I think you are at the crossroads- your goddess has made it clear- fulfill this task and you die as a hero to the loss of all else. But, if I may guess, you have found a faith stronger than that which was in her. As a- a- um, figurehead." Willow stuttered her words going quicker than she wished.
"I wouldn't suppose to have- No, that's a bridge too-" Gale started somewhat short.
"- no you have found a taproot that supplants Mystra. A vein of intellect for the Arcane she represents but is not fully present in. Am I making sense? You looked inward and found a new well! A new font to pull your energy from. Your knowledge was earned by study, years, and years of it-and Mystra is part of that. More than I know I'd guess. But the vigor you use it for, it is elsewhere. Not Mystra given. You, Gale, you have crafted it." Willow leveled a look at Gale, almost in challenge to her observation. Willow felt a strength in her words and a need to imbue Gale with the same thunderbolt of realization she had come to: Gale was better than what Mystra's will and whim decided he was. She felt certain of it, but it felt strange to speak this way with Gale. They were good friends, fast to bond in the whirl of the Nautiloid crash and the tadpoles' intrusion but Willow was ever the student to Gale's lecture hall lessons.
The lecturer turned listener as Willow spoke.
"It- it was so much easier when it was just me." Gale admitted frustrated after a short silence. The stars Gale provided shone overhead radiant and far away. Willow felt the breeze stir the grass and tree boughs hard and sudden enough to make them seem to have taken a breath. A moment passed, then another. Willow sighed as the landscape relaxed in the next breeze; it felt like shared breath. Green and fresh.
"If it was just me, I could do as Mystra wanted. I could earn her forgiveness. But you, our friends," Gale gestured with his chin to camp, "that, you all- I don't want to let that go."
"Then don't." came Willow's blunt reply. The thought of losing her friend on top of all else was beginning to goad her into anger. Willow pressed on,
"I don't know many things. There could be libraries of knowledge the likes of which you could get lost in filled with things I don't know. But I would be damned before I say you need to seek forgiveness from Mystra and sacrifice yourself to attain it. The Netherbrain be damned. All this be damned. We will end it. The Absolute is not the inevitable; we will find a means of finishing this, but we need a clever sort to help us. Perhaps even the most clever sort." Willow gave Gale a wry smile.
"Your attempts at flattery are all too transparent. But I appreciate the sentiment." Gale sighed with a small smile. Quickly his face turned to one of thoughtful reflection before continuing, "I imagine I'll have some thoughts to share after resting. I know we both need it- but thank you for mending my leg. First time I can say a bookshelf got the better of me than I it."
"Oh, a bookshelf did it? I figured one of the nurses was the inflictor." Willow replied, mildly surprised.
"A nurse shrieked at me and I was reeled backward onto the thing. So, it was a collaborative effort, shall we say. Thankfully sharp wooden protrusions aren't an inherent weakness of mine. I imagine one of our companions would find such a thing more troublesome. But I digress- On the mention of drawing blood- I mean magic!-"
"Whoa, I- just a second- you! There's a-" Willow sputtered in surprised indignation.
"You, Willow have indeed been in a peculiar situation with the blighted nature here." Gale put his hands up almost in reflex but continued with clear excitement and curiosity.
"You're drawing from a very small natural pool, I assume; being of different tutelage I can't be certain. I have not read widely on other casters as I would like. The idea you have, about the leyline, I'm intrigued. I think you're homing in on the problem there." Gale lit up in his curiosity and dedication to finding answers.
Willow felt the spark of his mind whirl into a bright torch intent on the search for answers. Her indignation smoldered for but a moment before being snuffed out. She knew Gale cared for her wellbeing. They were friends- perhaps her moments with Astarion were harder for others to see as she saw them. Willow felt all the companions felt the same in very, very broad terms: all of them would bleed for each other- Willow was just the only one willing to be bled for one of them as a meal. Though Willow suspected no one else had feelings for Astarion as she had developed.
After a few back-and-forth ideas on the magical interference the curse to the lands caused Willow began to grow too weary to talk more. Gale was shortly behind her from the way he sounded. Rising together Gale clapped Willow on the shoulder.
"Thank you again. Your friendship and fierce words were a balm on a raw wound. Let's talk again after a hearty rest."
Willow smiled and nodded, too drained to do much else as the Gale-who-was-Gale followed her back into camp. Weary, sore, and more of both as they walked, Willow couldn't stop herself glancing skyward one more time to admire her friend's handiwork. The stars winked and twinkled back to her in their conjured velvet field overhead.
