It had been ages since Nymuë had dreamt of Elyon. After fifteen years of wandering around Baldur's Gate, her time in the circus seemed like another life. One she didn't particularly want to remember.
The young woman finished packing her personal belongings. The sun had recently risen, and Lae'zel made a point to wake them up at dawn.
In truth, the dark elf was perhaps more troubled than she wished to admit by this dream. Nothing good could happen if her memories decided to revisit her. As every time she remembered the little green eyes fairy, a mixture of tenderness and sadness invaded her. What would Elyon have thought of the strange company by her side? Perhaps she would have been fascinated by Astarion's ruby irises, or have swooned with admiration at Shadowheart's understated elegance. And the githyanki? No doubt she would have found her 'very funny'.
This fine team had more pressing issues than her nostalgic echoes, though. Today, they had to find a healer. The dark elf had felt no fever, no pain during the night, except for her unwanted dreams. If the multiple details provided by Lae'zel about the illithid transformation were true, the first symptoms should have already occurred. Luck was therefore on their side... Or they had just obtained a reprieve.
Nymuë glanced at her comrades. The priestess and the gith seemed to be in good shape (too much in fact, given their outbursts of voice), but Astarion was showing signs of fatigue. The features of his face – naturally pale – were hollow, his eyes almost haggard. The young woman remembered he hadn't dined... Although he told them he had eaten this morning, when he returned from his night walk. Was he brooding over something? Could it be connected to their tadpole? She decided to keep an eye on him discreetly over the next few hours. All they had to do was hoping to find a remedy quickly.
Once the camp was disassembled, the group resumed its search where it had left off the day before. They advanced in a westerly direction, on the trail of the two tieflings. It didn't take long for them to spot a huge stone gate, partially covered with vegetation. A platform was used to accommodate archers, and it was a sentry they saw first. The place was suspiciously well guarded, for a simple village...
"No one is allowed to enter, Zevlor's order!"
The security guard - a middle-aged tiefling- was addressing a group of humans whose leader made a series of abrupt and nervous gestures. "Open the bloody gate!" he shouted. "These goblins will be on us any second!"
Goblins, so close to an armed encampment? Nymuë was uneasy. These creatures were adept at plundering, but they neither had the intelligence nor the organization for this magnitude.
Another tiefling joined his compatriot. He looked older, and was dressed in red and gold armour.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Goblins are at our tails! Open the door, Zevlor, now!"
"You have brought goblins here? Where is the druid?"
A mournful growl answered him. A few meters away, a worg appeared. The animal was almost two meters long and wolf-like; when it saw its prey cornered, it licked its lips. Half a dozen goblins followed him at a run.
"By the Nine Hells!" Zevlor exclaimed. "Open the door!"
The tiefling watcher rushed to the crank; alas, the goblins had caught up and two of them bent their bows. "For the Absolute !" their leader cried; the arrows hit their target. The sentry fell heavily to the ground, as did the door he had tried to lift. The humans drew their weapons and formed a line. They had no way out, only three of them against twice as many opponents.
Nymuë glanced at her companions; Shadowheart and Astarion were clearly reluctant to join a fight that wasn't theirs. Lae'zel, on the other hand, was boiling to throw herself into a bloody battle. The dark elf shook her head: whatever this encampment contains, they needed help. And without their intervention, these people would be massacred. It was worth the risk.
Twirling her chained dagger, the young woman rushed after the gith warrior. With a sigh, Astarion and Shadowheart also plunged into the fray. The goblin forces were already storming the three humans, and their intercession caught them from behind.
They split in two, divided between their prey and the newcomers. Astarion aimed at the few creatures remained behind. With the help of the human leader, Lae'zel pinced the worg. As for Nymuë, she pirouetted, dragging her chained knife with her. It made a steel path around her, slashing the skin and piercing the leather. Deftly, she threw it around a goblin ankle and pulled, leaving the creature at the mercy of their new allies.
The dark elf sensed a presence behind her as a creature ran in her direction; Shadowheart's flames ignited him before he brought down his blade.
Soon, their attackers were overwhelmed. Whatever the three fugitives had done, the goblins only sent a small squad after them. Nymuë's attention turned to the survivors, as Lae'zel finished off their last enemy. What had caused such disparate beasts to hunt them down?
"It was the last of them," Zevlor shouted. "All of you inside, more may follow!"
He activated the crank and the stone door rose to clear the way. The leader of the mercenaries rushed inside, without even a sign of gratitude towards his saviours. "This is promising," Nymuë thought.
"That Zevlor looks like the leader," Shadowheart whispered. "We should ask him if the camp has a healer."
"No, we need to know where that 'Zorru' is," Lae'zel said. "A healer will be of no use against our parasites, only a creche can save us!"
"You don't know that," the priestess retorted. "And I have more faith in a healer than in your kind."
"If there's a healer, he must have been desperate to come here," Astarion disdainfully exclaimed. "That, a camp?"
Nymuë could not prove him wrong. As the stone entrance closed behind them, the companions advanced into what looked more like a rabbit hole than a cantonment. An excavation brought together merchants and dwellings. Wagons, on all sides, gathered food and clothes. A few armed tieflings were making rounds, but the clumsiness of their movements indicated they weren't warriors. The dark elf spotted some of them giving her nervous looks; she tried to keep a low profile.
Lae'zel was already marching towards the famous Zevlor. His imposing build and well-maintained armour marked him as the only experienced fighter among the tiefling guard. No wonder that he was at the helm of this distressing herd.
He didn't seem inclined to devote time to them, however. With clenched fists, he steeled his nerves so as not to throw himself at the mercenaries chief: "Aradin, you fool! There are children here!" he yelled.
"We were running for our lives," the human defended himself. "And we can't say you were in a hurry!"
"You led them to us and let them seize the druid too. Unbelievable!"
"What druid?" Lae'zel asked.
The two men immediately turned to her. They appraised of these unknown saviours, hesitating as to their answer. "Halsin," Aradin finally spat. "The druid chief of this miserable village. We lost sight of him in the ruins, a few days' walk away. It was swarming with goblins."
"He trusted you," Zevlor said.
"No one forced him to go with us, he insisted. And when things started to turn sour, he couldn't keep up. As simple as that."
"By the gods, you're a coward!"
Aradin rolled his shoulders, a nervous twitch in his eyelid. Nymuë had a hunch that they hadn't landed in a haven of peace. "From what I know," she intervened coldly, "rag-picker fights don't bring the deads back to life."
"You're right," Zevlor squeaked. "There are too many things at stake."
"Worried about breaking a nail, you and the friendly drow?" Aradin provoked.
"Enough. There's no point in bickering: the goblins found us. Now, my people will have to flee as quickly as possible."
"That's your problem," the mercenary grumbled, gesturing quickly to his troops. Without another word, they took their leave.
"If he'd been as angry with the goblins as he was in this childish argument, we wouldn't have needed to intervene," Shadowheart whispered.
"So other goblins can show up at any time?" Astarion pestered. "Wonderful."
"Forget about this," Zevlor told them. "Aradin is an idiot, but that's no excuse. I shouldn't have stooped to his level. I never thought I'd say this to a drow but... Thank you for your help. To all of you. My name is Zevlor."
Nymuë's acerbic expression made him realise his blunder: "Far be it from me to insult you. Your people are in constant infighting, and you are so rare... I didn't know you sometimes cared about strangers."
The young woman saw the curious look of her comrades. She couldn't contradict Zevlor; the talent of her peers to tear each other apart was unparalleled. Some hoped for a better status, while others wished to gain the favor of the subterranean goddess, Lolth... The bloody nature of the dark elves had haunted Nymuë all her life. That's what earned her a place in the 'Exotic Parade' to begin with; why it was rare for her to be welcomed with open arms.
"Have those goblins launched many attacks like this one?" she asked, in order to divert the conversation.
"The Emerald Grove has been attacked by several types of monsters, and the druids accuse us 'strangers' of luring them here. Whatever the reasons you're visiting, I advise you to act quickly. They decided to chase everyone out. No one is welcome anymore."
"What do you mean ?" Shadowheart asked.
"They have started a ritual to cut the Grove off from the outside world. In a few days, this place will be covered with thorns. No one will enter or leave. So we can't stay... But we'll be slaughtered if we leave. We are no fighters."
"I suppose there's no way to negotiate with these druids?" Nymuë asked.
"I've tried, but Kagha -their new first druid - won't even receive me."
Nymuë felt a slight pressure on her arm, as Astarion whispered: "It's not our problem. Don't play the hero, we have other worries on our hands." The young woman grimaced; she sincerely sympathised with Zevlor and his people. Being judged for having a demonic ancestry was as stupid as being condemned for being born drow. But the parasite in her head didn't care about discrimination issues in Faerun. If it woke up, it would go after anyone who stood in its way.
"Know that my heart goes out to you," she murmured. "But our time is short. We're looking for a healer."
"Did the goblins hurt you?" Zevlor worried. "The druid Halsin is reknown for his skills, but he hasn't returned from Aradin's expedition. If it's not too serious, you can always ask to his apprentice, Nettie. You will find her with the other druids, inside the Grove."
"Thank you. We also heard about a certain Zorru... Is he part of your group?"
"I know Zorru," the tiefling chief confirmed. "What's your business with him?"
"He knows where my people are," Lae'zel replied dryly.
"We just want to ask him some questions," the dark elf reassured. "So our friend here can trace other githyankis in the area. Once done, we'll meet Nettie."
"The last time I saw him, he was near the cadet training area, further into the caves. I hope you get what you're looking for. If you'll excuse me, I better help get my people moving."
With a final nod, Zevlor walked away. The companions went deep into the cave serving as a refuge for the tieflings. Some platforms accommodated families or stands intended for supplies. A large area had been marked out with ropes to organise what looked like a training ground. A few young tieflings, armed with sticks, were practising on mannequins.
"How do we proceed?" Nymuë asked to her comrades.
"We should take advantage of this temporary shelter to buy some food and medicinal herbs," Shadowheart suggested. "If the meeting with Nettie doesn't go as planned, who knows how long it will be before we stumble upon another inhabited place."
"Waste your time if you want," Lae'zel hissed. "I'm looking for the horned one."
"Let's make two teams then," Astarion proposed.
Not surprisingly, the gith warrior and the priestess refused to work together. It was decided that Nymuë would accompany Lae'zel to meet Zorru, while Shadowheart and Astarion would scour the available resources. They agreed to meet an hour later at the Grove entrance. Astarion seemed particularly dissatisfied; the dark elf heard him mumble that he was going to miss 'all the fun'.
She and Lae'zel headed to the training ground. The young tieflings handled their weapons with difficulty, barely having the strength to lift their staff to perform a parry. The gith warrior cursed: "All githyanki know how to wield a sword before they're six, and must have made their first victim by their tenth birthday. On the other hand, these tieflings prove fragile. I really want to end their miseries myself."
"Calm yourself. They're survivors, not soldiers."
"I fail to see the distinction."
"That's part of the problem," Nymuë sighed, without answering. She hadn't yet decided if she liked the githyanki warrior's bite, or if she found it problematic. One of the reasons that had pushed her to accompany her.
A tiefling stood slightly back from the cadets' practice, busy making an inventory of several supply boxes. When he turned to them, he gave a terrified expression: "By... by Mordai's eyes! Another one? Has not my friend's blood been enough? Come to rip me off in two?"
Nymuë shook her head: that answered her questions about other githyankis. Where the young lords of Faerun were educated on which fork to grasp depending on the progress of their meal, the gith learned which orifice was the most convenient to pass their sword through. Classic.
"In creche K'liir, formal greeting begins with a bow," Lae'zel commanded, her arms crossed.
Zorru glanced at Nymuë. His trembling increased when he noticed she was a dark elf; the idea of a diplomatic approach was receding by the second.
"She just wants to ask you a few questions. She won't hurt you, will she, Lae'zel?"
Her companion gave her an angry look while the tiefling relaxed slightly. Nymuë tried an experiment. Focusing on her parasite, she sought to communicate with her comrade's. Lae'zel's tadpole immediately answered the call, as the dark elf telepathically said : "When we'll approach the githyanki creche, we'll do as you command. In the meantime, my world, my rules. You don't cut people in half, or even in three. The strangers on our way reveal much less information once they're dead."
"Tchk. Your softness will cause our ruin. As for you," the warrior spat at Zorru, "you have seen another gith. Where?"
"On the road to Baldur's Gate, near the mou... mountain pass. He saw us before we saw him. He pierced... Yul's belly. It came out to the other side."
"No twisting ? Kin must have been in a hurry. The map, now! Show me."
Zorru complied, pointing to an area a few days' walk away. Combining this with the information offered by Zevlor and Aradin, Nymuë deduced the mountain pass must be a little further up than the goblins's ruins. Which meant they had to get past these creatures first... Lae'zel had come to the same conclusion, but the prospect of hard fighting didn't seem to worry her. On the contrary, her scowl was more relaxed, her brows less furrowed. If Nymuë was feeling bold, she could almost have suggested she was glowing.
"Stand up," the warrior ordered. "You may keep your inners."
Zorru didn't need to be told twice. Without asking for anything else, he ran to the other end of the cave, occasionally glancing in terror behind him.
"The locals prove particulary complient," Lae'zel said. "A useful trait."
"We'll see if you think the same when he comes back with his friends," Nymuë retorted. "I'm not against a little armed questioning. But perhaps it would be good to choose our targets more wisely. The goblins on our way, for example, seem like a great option."
"Why not crush those too weak to face you?" her comrade asked. "When a shell is so thin, it doesn't take much to crack it."
"It's the first time you've landed in Faerun, isn't it?"
The warrior didn't answer, instead giving her another wicked glance. Nymuë studied her: the githyanki's defiance, as well as her continual aggressiveness... It reminded her of the members of the 'Exotic Parade' she had grown up with. During the first performances of new artists, Lady Seri always doubled her number of mercenaries. In case there're accidents, both on public and stage side. When they were alone, without options, forced to walk in a hostile environment, people were often seized with terror, or quick to violence.
Was this how Lae'zel saw their situation? An unknown land, a parasite ready to transform her into a monster... in a world she didn't know? In her place, maybe Nymuë would also want to join her family without wasting a single second... If she had a family to begin with.
"Very well," she said. "If there's a creche west of here, we better go there. Hoping a healer will help us by then."
"Purification cannot wait," Lae'zel agreed. "The zaith'isk will get us rid of the parasite."
"Let's join the others," the dark elf offered. "Before they started threatening anyone, too."
The warrior nodded and walked to the Grove entrance, Nymuë at her heels. The young woman watched her, thoughtful. The road ahead was going to be difficult, probably rich in diplomatic incidents. But she had made up her mind.
She liked her after all, this githyanki.
End notes :
As you noticed, there was a small action scene in this chapter. This is how I decided to proceed for the fights: I selected the battles that I wanted to see within this story. They will not be as numerous as in the game, but at the moment they're all staged and are the subject of almost dedicated chapters. This seems to be a good balance so far.
See you next week!