Chapter Text
What surprised her most was that he’d actually toppled her after the boar had run out of the bushes. She had smelled the boar, but thought perhaps the pungent gamey scent was overshadowing the must of an intellect devourer. She wasn’t surprised by the boar, necessarily, but figured the brain on legs would skitter after it, and she focused on that. But that was when he swept her feet out from under her.
She considered herself to be steady, sturdy as an oak, and usually ready to spring into action. Granted, she was sore and slightly injured from fighting the hellspawn on the nautiloid, but that was no excuse. His little flourish had resulted in her on her back in the dirt, and him pinning her delicately but firmly. He took care not to press his entire body against her, seeming to avoid touching her as much as possible while still holding her hostage. The tightness around his eyes revealed his stress as he warned Shadowheart against doing any heroics.
Time seemed to slow as she instinctively felt for an opportunity to roll out from under his grasp. But as she lay there, she studied him. He shone like the moon, and she almost whispered praise to Sehanine Moonbow for his form. He could have been carved out of marble. The shape of his lips was sinful, and his cheekbones could cut glass. Ruby red eyes glittered under his regal brow and his jawline was exquisite. He smelled faintly of a cologne that elicited memories of decadent rooms full of velvet and vice, in addition to bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. Although all of that was overlaid with the scent of the nautiloid, meaning he had been a fellow passenger. He was what others would call a high elf, but his pale skin and silver-white hair clearly marked his ancestry as moon elven. He was achingly beautiful.
The blade pressed carefully against her throat did not concern her, although Shadowheart was alarmed by it. He was very delicately pressing not the sharp edge but the side of it to her skin, although she recognized that could change in less than an instant. She could tell he was holding back, merely protecting himself, and she was curious.
“You were on the ship. Nod,” he commanded with that silky voice as she pushed against his wrist lightly, to show him she did consider him a threat, although, perversely, she didn’t. He was a predator of some type, of that she was sure. She could, as they say, smell her own. But he was simply using a show of force to get some answers.
Then her opening presented itself as he adjusted his hold on her.
She quickly rolled out of his grasp and to her feet, bracing herself into a fighting stance and facing him, her hand automatically going to her empty dagger sheath on her hip. He assumed a knife fighting stance himself, frowning.
“I saw you on the ship,” he said, recovering from her breaking his hold so easily, “Strutting about while I was trapped in that pod. What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?”
He pointed his knife at her as his voice wobbled into shrill territory. The heavy blade was clearly not his preferred weapon. It looked too big, too much like a hunting knife for his taste. Undoubtedly something he picked up opportunistically, probably from a hunter’s stash nearby. He would likely prefer to carry a finer dagger, or two. All the better for slipping it between someone’s ribs.
“You have it backwards. They snatched me up too,” she said, standing more relaxedly, like she would to calm a stressed beast, “Us, I mean.”
She motioned to where she could see Shadowheart, just in her peripheral vision, while keeping her eyes trained on him.
He sneered, “I’m not an idiot. I saw… argh!”
She closed her eyes at the gut tumbling feeling of the mind flayer larva, the tadpole, writhing behind her eye socket. And suddenly, she was looking out of someone else’s eyes, prowling dark, busy streets. She tried to understand what she was seeing, but it transitioned. Now she was watching as a tadpole was forced into someone else’s eye socket. She felt their fear.
He was panting now, dropping his hands from where they were clutching at his head and shaking it as if to free his vision from spots, “What was that? What in the Hells is going on?”
She gagged and spit, hating the feeling of the parasite, and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She wondered if he had seen her memory, or re-lived his own.
“If I was going to hazard a guess, I’d say it was the mind flayer worm. It’s… connected us, somehow.”
“The worm? The worm… of course,” he looked pensive, his voice taking back its silkier tone, “That explains things… Somewhat.”
His posture changed. It wasn’t subtle or unconsciously done. She mirrored his stance - guarded but engaged.
“And to think,” he smirked, “I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”
Somehow he made the apology actually sound sincere although she knew it wasn’t. She studied him as his smirk fell and he looked lost.
“Apology accepted,” she smiled genuinely, “I might have done the same if the roles were reversed.”
“Aha,” he gave an affected laugh, before saying meaningfully, “A kindred spirit.”
She shivered at that purr. He was absolutely a predator, and she hoped he wasn’t interested in a long game of drawing blood. He drew himself up and slid his blade into a sheath that clashed with his outfit. It was definitely a recent acquisition of opportunity.
“My name is Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”
He showed his teeth in disdain when he said ‘beasts’, but quickly closed his lips. But not before she noted the sharpness of his canine teeth. One could almost call them… fangs.
She turned to look at Shadowheart, who seemed to have relaxed slightly, before launching into her story of her abduction. Shadowheart’s brow was creased but she didn’t look like she was going to jump into the conversation.
“I’m Kiera. I was just on my way back to Baldur’s Gate after a few months in the wilderness on a scouting job,” she shrugged, “Then that nautiloid scooped me up with some others on the road. I got to watch one of them transform into a mind flayer in one of the pods.”
She turned to Shadowheart, “The one in the next room after you, where I had to go to find the key for yours.”
“Ghastly,” Astarion pressed his hand to his chest.
Kiera nodded, “Then Shadowheart, a githyanki called Lae’zel, and I ended up helping fight off demons and devils as we flew through Avernus. Lae’zel was the one who managed to connect the jump back to Faerún before the red dragon destroyed us. I was intending to try to find her. If she survived the crash, she has to be somewhere around the wreckage.”
“Then it is a pleasure to meet you,” he purred, all charm, “So… Do you know anything about these worms?”
“Well, I know they’ll turn us into mind flayers,” she quipped sardonically, “So we probably don’t want them in our heads.”
His eyebrows slanted in disbelief, and he leaned towards her as if he hadn’t heard.
“Turn us into…” he started before turning and covering his mouth with his hand and laughing bitterly, before continuing morosely, “Of course it will turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”
Kiera tilted her head the way her crow familiar did, questioning but not interrupting. Shadowheart took a wary step back, as if surprised by Astarion’s reaction.
“Although,” he said, thinking aloud, “It hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert, someone who can control these things, there might still be time.”
“You should travel with us,” Kiera nodded to Shadowheart, who nodded warily back, “Our odds are better together.”
He swivelled lazily back on his hip, “You know, I was ready to go this alone. But maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.”
She smirked as he gave her a little bow and grandly said, “Alright, I accept.”
“Do you have anything to, er, grab?” Kiera wrinkled her brow, knowing that she and Shadowheart had had a chance to loot some of the wreckage for weapons for themselves, but hadn’t found a whole lot.
“I am ready to go. Lead on,” Astarion drew himself up tall, and waved his hand dismissively.
***
They didn’t find Lae’zel, but they did find a strange, swirling portal that seemed to be malfunctioning. Just after Kiera approached it, and got shocked by the swirling vortex, a hand thrust out of it and waved about.
“A hand? Anyone?” called an echoey and slightly concerned man’s voice.
Astarion snickered, “It certainly is.”
Kiera smiled and tossed a look over her shoulder at the pale elf, shaking her head, before analysing the problem in front of her. If the portal had been working properly, surely the wizard would be able to just step out of it. Maybe a less mystical approach was required. Which was lucky for her, as her magical ability was rudimentary at best.
“Um, Kiera, darling, are you sure you want to touch that? You don’t know where it’s been,” Astarion interjected as he saw her strategising her approach.
“Astarion,” she looked at him, knowingly, “He is asking for help, so I’m going to help him.”
“I just hope it’s a good idea,” Astarion grimaced, stepping back a bit.
She braced her boot on the cliff face beside the portal, grabbed the hand with both of hers, and pulled, pushing off of the cliff for extra leverage. The man grasped her forearm as best he could and she gritted her teeth as she wrenched him through the swirling purple light and darkness. She fell back on the ground as the man came tumbling out of the portal, sending them both into the dirt.
He groaned as he got up, arching his back and closing his eyes. Kiera got up and dusted herself off as he righted himself.
“Hello,” he smiled, leaning his hands on his knees for a moment before straightening and looking over the group of people gathered in front of him, “I’m Gale of Waterdeep. Apologies, I’m usually much better at this.”
He reached out and shook Kiera’s hand as she smiled warmly up at him. His handshake stuttered for a brief moment, but he quickly recovered and released his grip.
“I’m Kiera Ravenseeker. And there’s no need to apologise, that looked like quite a predicament. Are you alright?”
Gale shook his head, “A bit shocked, but Kiera, it’s a relief and pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His eyes widened a moment and his face fell from the charming smile, as a realisation hit him.
“Say, but I know you, don’t I?” he pointed at her, “In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”
“I… was. Yes,” Kiera flinched, hoping that her worm and his wouldn’t make introductions to each other as Astarion’s had, “Er, how did you get stuck in that stone?”
“I don’t know what transpired exactly,” he said, raising his hand to illustrate, “But the ship broke into pieces, and I suddenly found myself in freefall. As I was plummeting to certain death, I spied a glimmer quite near where I estimated my body would impact with less-than-savoury propulsion.”
Kiera giggled at his wordplay and understatement, nodding to encourage him to continue his explanation. She thought she heard a soft snort of derision from around where Astarion was standing, which made her smirk more. She was quite enjoying this human. His voice was lovely, and he was handsome, his wavy brown hair remarkably not tousled, with some silvery strands glinting in the sun. His beard was close cropped and well kept, and the top half of some sort of magical themed tattoo was visible above the neck of his robes, spiraling up the side of his neck to end on his cheek near his left eye. A daring tattoo for someone so seemingly academic.
“Recognising this glimmer to be magical in nature, I reached out to it with a Weaving of words and found myself on the other side, as it were,” he shrugged, “How about you? How did you survive the fall?”
“Oof,” Kiera grimaced again, “To be honest, I haven’t a clue. I was on the bridge, fighting demons, when our companion connected the tentacle control things of the nautiloid to bring us out of Avernus, right when the red dragon hit. I was knocked out of the ship by some debris and blacked out as I was plummeting, though I have a faint recollection of a voice speaking to me. Then I woke up on the sand, near Shadowheart.”
“Shadowheart,” the woman in question smiled, stepping forward to shake his hand.
“And this is Astarion, our newest companion as of about… half an hour ago?” Kiera quirked her eyebrows at the slightly unimpressed elf.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” he nodded his head haughtily, refusing to shake Gale’s hand.
“Fair enough,” he responded, before returning his gaze to Kiera, “But even so, I have the unfortunate suspicion your survival is still very much in jeopardy. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, were you not?”
Kiera shuddered as he pointed to his eye, remembering the feeling, “I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself.”
“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” Gale said cheerfully, while seeming to settle into a comfortable teaching mode, “The insertee we speak of, this parasite… are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”
“You don’t say,” Astarion drawled sarcastically.
“You don’t happen to be a cleric, by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” he asked, making a stabbing motion with an imaginary knitting needle.
Kiera smiled as she shot a look back to Shadowheart, who subtly shook her head, making her guess that she had already tried to heal herself. She raised an eyebrow at Astarion, who she suspected could be particularly adroit with a long sharp object, but he looked innocently back at her. So much for their help.
“You seem to know enough about our condition to realise it is beyond most clerics’ skills,” Shadowheart challenged him.
“Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?” Gale raised his finger and looked at Shadowheart and Kiera hopefully.
“Sadly, I’m just a simple ranger with middling medical skills. Only enough to keep myself and my companions alive in the wilderness. I’m used to butchering my kills, but they never recover from the process,” she shrugged, giving him a sad smirk, “I’m not sure I’d be able to remove them, er, safely with my ‘sharp things’ knowledge. Even if you were willing to give up an eye.”
“As we’ve established, few enough can. It’s not exactly a common affliction,” Gale sighed, “We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kiera grinned, hearing Astarion’s soft scoff again behind her, “You’re most welcome to join me.”
“Most excellent,” Gale exclaimed enthusiastically, “A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect.”
Kiera giggled again, and she heard Astarion groan, and Shadowheart snort at Gale’s antics.
“Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man, thank you for pulling me out of that stone,” he said, leaning towards Kiera in an almost bow, “It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.”
***
They continued down the riding path, finding abandoned wagons and supplies, as well as some hunter’s caches, until they came upon an altercation in front of a heavy wooden gate.
“Goblins,” Kiera hissed, drawing her replacement bow, “Attacking those people. I’m going in.”
“I’m with you,” Gale agreed.
“Gods,” Astarion groaned, “Fine. We can play heroes.”
She hopped up an embankment, surprising a couple of goblins that had taken the high ground. A few well placed arrows had them tumbling to the next level of bedrock. Suddenly a necrotic spell was cast at the goblins near the foot of the facing cliff, and a dashing young man hopped down from the wall, brandishing a rapier with a jaunty battle cry.
Astarion disappeared into the shadows of the cliff and joined Kiera in sniping the goblin group from afar. Gale awkwardly climbed up onto the cliff below Kiera, and cast fire bolts at the aggressors. Shadowheart jogged up to the melee and started hammering blows on the bugbear that stood tall in the middle of the fray.
Eventually, the goblins were killed, the bugbear was incapacitated, and there was one survivor of the party that was attacked. Kiera approached him remorsefully.
“I’m sorry about your friends,” she said as Shadowheart closed their eyes and murmured words over their bodies.
The remaining man shrugged, “I ain’t broken up about it. They were assholes, the lot of ‘em.”
“Ooookay,” Kiera pursed her lips.
“Name’s Aradin. I’m a merc. We was out… Well, never mind. I’m just going to get my stuff, then I’m taking off. Fuck that Baldur’s Gate wizard and his fucking Nightsong. And fuck these fucking druids.”
As soon as the gate was winched up a little ways, the man rolled under the heavy wood and took off into the grove. Kiera frowned and turned to the dashing young man. He had a stone prosthetic eye, likely due to the long scar across his face, but his other eye was a deep rich brown, and he had a beautiful smile.
“Kiera Ravenseeker,” she introduced herself, sticking out her hand.
“Wyll Ravenguard,” he grinned, taking her hand and bowing slightly, “At your service, fellow raven.”
“The Blade of the Frontiers? My day is looking up,” she laughed as she appreciated his rough calluses against hers.
“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he blushed slightly, releasing his grip and straightening his tunic.
“I’m from Baldur’s Gate, my lord. Of course I’ve heard of you,” she smirked.
“Oh, please. No titles here,” he said, ducking his head and blushing harder, “Besides, I hold no title as such.”
“Very well. These are my companions - Astarion, Shadowheart, and Gale of Waterdeep,” she motioned for the others.
“Wyll Ravenguard… What an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Astarion purred charmingly, taking his hand to shake.
“And you, good saer,” Wyll smiled in a practiced, political way, before shaking Shadowheart and Gale’s hands as well, perhaps a bit more authentically.
“Shall we go in?” Kiera asked, hooking her thumb at the fully opened gate, “I suspect they want to close the gate quickly.”
“Yes, let’s. I would like to check on the tieflings,” Wyll said, his brow wrinkled in concern.
As they turned to walk, suddenly their tadpoles all squirmed and connected, causing them to cry out and stumble.
“Ah, so you were on the nautiloid as well,” Kiera panted as she and Wyll leaned on each other, recovering.
“Gods, that’s horrible. What happened?” he pressed his hand to his right eye socket.
Kiera spat the bile from her throat and dragged them through the gate so the gatekeeper could drop the wooden barrier, which they did, almost hitting Gale’s heels.
“The tadpoles like to speak with each other,” Astarion groaned, “Gregarious little wretches.”
“So all of you were on the nautiloid?” Wyll’s eyebrows raised.
“Unfortunately,” Shadowheart said grimly.
“And these heroic ladies, along with one other, helped to fend off the demons in Avernus and return us to Faerûn before the ship broke up,” Gale said proudly, looking only a bit nauseated.
“Truly? Then we all owe you our thanks,” Wyll bowed to Shadowheart and Kiera.
“Uh oh,” Kiera absently patted Wyll’s shoulder in thanks, “I think another fight is brewing.”
She hurried over to a tall, stern tiefling who was facing off against the merc, waving her hands in a peace making gesture.
“Hells, why is she bothering with that? The tiefling can clearly handle that rude little man. We need to find a healer,” complained Astarion, waving his hands in the air dramatically.
“What if that tiefling is the healer, and he ends up with a knife in his gut?” Shadowheart pursed her lips at Astarion, “But I agree. We need to see a healer right now.”
Astarion squinted his eyes at Shadowheart and pouted until Kiera returned.
“Alright, that was tense. Apparently, the great healer, Archdruid Halsin, is missing. He went out with those mercs and he didn’t come back. We’re being directed to go speak with the other healer, Nettie, and the replacement leader, Kagha, who is trying to permanently close the grove to outsiders, meaning she’s going to kick us and the tiefling refugees out.”
“What? What? What?!” Astarion squawked, “How in the Hells could this get any worse?!”
“Well…” Kiera grimaced.
“What?” Astarion asked warningly as he narrowed his eyes at her.
“There is a large goblin encampment not far from here, and the merc may have… led them back here. They are anticipating an increase in aggression.”
“By the Nine Hells!” Astarion threw his head back in frustration, “That was a rhetorical question!”
Wyll groaned, “I’m going to go speak with the tieflings, and see what I can do to help. Please come and find me if Nettie can help with the...”
He gestured to his eye and walked off, muttering to himself, leaving Gale, Astarion, and Shadowheart looking to Kiera for guidance.
“Shall we, erm, head that way?” she pointed into the main area of the grove, “Maybe talk with a trader and see if we can’t get some better gear with some of the junk we picked up?”
“Yes, please,” Astarion said, still annoyed, “I made sure to take everything the goblins had while you were jabbering with the merc.”
They spoke with the halfling druid, Arron, who sadly did have some nice pieces, but none they could afford in their current impecunious state. He agreed to give them gold for the excess stuff they had acquired on their journey so far, but it was not enough to even get Astarion a better blade. Kiera nodded politely, and determined that they would scavenge and find enough to barter, to be able to get themselves better things to protect themselves with. Perhaps they could start by stripping the crash site. After they found Lae’zel. She hoped that the githyanki woman was unharmed, and not in dire need of healing, lying in the wilderness somewhere.
They proceeded down the stone walkway, carved into the living rock of the hill the grove was in. They opted to squeeze past the oxen that the tieflings had brought with them, to stay out of the way of the fighters and children practicing weapon skills on the other side, where Kiera could see Wyll already enthusiastically encouraging them on their forms.
“Did… that ox give me the side eye? Is that normal?” whispered Astarion to Kiera, looking back at it worriedly.
Kiera tipped her head again, and squinted back at the ox, who looked like it was trying to seem busy doing ox things.
“Hello, honourable oxen,” she said, returning to the trio of beasts.
She always cast speak with animals on herself first thing in the morning, so that she could communicate better with her animal companions, and get information from the wildlife around her. The other two snorted, and the strange ox seemed almost… nervous.
“What troubles you, one with the blaze?” she asked the middle ox gently, rubbing the white mark on its forehead.
The ox looked over at its tender, and then quietly said, “They have buried not-food in our food. It makes the hay bitter and metallic.”
“Oh, really?” Kiera’s eyebrows raised, and she used the ox to block the tender’s view as she rummaged down in the hay, pulling out a few small things and a weapon, “That’s very rude of them. Here, let me remove that for you. Hopefully that helps.”
The ox snorted in agreement and nodded.
“And you, fine saer?” she smiled at the strange ox.
“Ah, you’re addressing me? A humble ox. How… quaint,” it looked at her with feigned surprise.
“Haven’t you ever met anyone who could speak to oxen?” she smiled peacefully, while doing a subtle check of the animal - something was off with this creature, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Oh, the druids, of course. But really, how interesting is it to speak with me?”
“I don’t know, I find that animals often welcome the opportunity. Did you come from Elturel with the others?”
“I did…” it replied drily.
“Well, I hope your hay is in better condition now. My friends are waiting, so I should get going. Farewell, noble oxen. Until later.”
She approached her group, who looked at her strangely.
“What?”
“Do you often gossip with the livestock, darling?” Astarion asked mockingly.
“Hey, who do you think is always watching the goings on, and gets constantly overlooked? They can be good sources of information. For example, someone hid these little bits and bobs in the hay, affecting its flavour. So I helpfully retrieved them,” Kiera smirked, showing the sword, health potion, and bronze ring to him.
“Oh,” Astarion raised an eyebrow, impressed, “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“Let’s go find Nettie,” she winked at him, handing him the ring, and slipping the sword into her empty sheath.
They descended the stone stairs to find several tiefling adults arguing with three druids, who were guarding the entryway to the druid grove’s centre, which was pulsing with green magic. The leftmost druid erupted into a roaring bear to keep them back.
“Can these people not argue for two moments so we can get past?” Astarion whined, “We have something important to do!”
“One moment,” Kiera sighed, approaching the tense druids.
“She really doesn’t hesitate to put herself out there, does she?” Shadowheart murmured as she watched the exchange.
“I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or an annoying thing yet,” Astarion grumbled.
“I think it’s admirable to step up and offer to help,” Gale opined, smiling softly.
“I’m sure you do,” Astarion rolled his eyes.
The group of tieflings moved off to the side of the stairs, still distraught but resigned. The druids moved to the side, and Kiera motioned for the others to come quickly.
“I don’t suppose we’re being invited inside for tea,” Shadowheart whispered as they skirted past the druids who were kneeling and directing green energy towards a stone idol of Silvanus, chanting ominous words.
“No. Unfortunately, one of the tiefling children attempted to steal that idol of Silvanus. They are judging her inside, without her parents or any of the other tieflings there.”
“Hells,” muttered Gale.
Kiera hustled into the dark cave, where the druids made their home. She recognized how the atmosphere had been engineered to make the cave livable and comfortable, having spent enough time camping in caves herself. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness of the cavern, they could see a circular stone platform, not unlike the one the druids were gathered around outside. Beside a stone table, an incandescently angry wood elf stood over a cowering tiefling child.
“Are you Kagha? We were told you wished to speak with us,” Kiera said, deliberately interrupting.
“In one moment,” she snapped, “I am dealing with an issue.”
She berated the child, who was repeating her tearful apology over and over, clearly terrified, while another druid stood by impotently, trying to talk her down. A snake slithered across the table and hissed in the child’s face, terrifying her further. The scent of fear was thick in the air, and Kiera nearly choked on it.
“Imprison her? She’s just a child,” Kiera frowned, although that was a far sight better than a death sentence she’d heard the other druids muttering about.
“She’s a parasite,” Kagha hissed, “She eats our food, drinks our water. Then steals our most holy idol in thanks!”
Kiera frowned more deeply, as the other druid looked between Kagha and Kiera hopefully. To value an object over a life, holy relic though it may be, sounded like the teachings of darker gods, not Silvanus. She could not believe that this elf was the best choice to lead the grove. She seemed too harsh and unyielding, too unbalanced.
“Rath - lock her up. She remains here until the rite is complete,” she commanded, before leaning towards the child, “And keep still, devil. Teela is restless.”
Kiera scoffed. The bigotry against tieflings disgusted her. They were simply people, not devils. They couldn’t help their ancestry any more than half-orcs, dragonborn, or aasimar. Then, the horned snake, a death viper, rose up and hissed in the girl’s face, threatening her.
“Come, Kagha,” implored Rath, “We took back the idol. Surely…”
“Do it,” she said, a steely glare directed at him.
The snake’s hiss of approval revealed its intentions. Should the child struggle, it was poised to strike. Kiera thought she could reason with the reptile, but Kagha ultimately was the one holding the child’s life in her authoritarian hands.
“Don’t druids cherish harmony? Jailing the girl disrupts nature’s balance,” Kiera interjected, frowning.
“What do you know of the Treefather’s teachings?” Kagha spat.
“I know the teachings as well as you,” she frowned, gesturing to herself, demonstrating that she is a wood elf like Kagha, and versed in their gods, “Release her. I’ll see to it that she stays out of trouble.”
Kagha exhaled, losing a bit of her steam, and bitterly twisted her lips to the side, “Fair words. But if any more thefts occur…”
“I understand,” Kiera said, putting her fists on her hips. She suspected she was at least 75 years older than this druid. Despite her mantle of leadership, Kiera was certain she could exert more authentic authority than Kagha could.
“Out, thief. My grace has its limits,” Kagha said through gritted teeth, “Ssifisv, Teela, to me.”
Kiera kept herself strong and stern as the snake slithered threateningly past the child to wrap itself around Kagha’s ankle, but she heard Gale’s exhale of relief, and Shadowheart hissing about something hurting. She resisted turning to make sure she was okay. The most she did was stroke the girl’s shoulder as she ran from the cave, crying.
“Thank you, Kagha. Master Halsin would…” Rath said, unconsciously keeping his head lower than Kagha’s.
“Halsin isn’t here,” she sneered icily, “Keep his name off your tongue, lest Teela pierce it.”
Kiera groaned internally. Fucking politics. She hoped Halsin wasn’t an asshole like Kagha.
“So, you wanted to speak with us?” Kiera raised her eyebrows and acted like she wasn’t bothered by what just happened.
“Yes. The tieflings must leave the grove,” Kagha snipped back, “Talk to Zevlor, their ‘leader’, and get them out.”
“Right,” Kiera said flatly, “May we speak with your healer, Nettie? We have a need for her skills.”
Kagha waved them towards a door in the back of the cave dismissively. Kiera nodded crisply, and walked forward without a backward glance at her companions, knowing they would follow her. As she approached the door, a large wolf prowled towards her. She smiled, and crouched down to be at his eye level.
“Hello, beautiful wolf,” she said, offering her hand.
He sniffed it and grumbled in his chest, “Ah, another stranger come to vex me. What will you do? Hunt me? Grab my tail? Shout until my head hurts?”
“I just wanted to give you my smell,” she smiled comfortingly, “I’ll leave you be.”
“No, wait,” he said, “You smell fresh. Safe. You can stay. If you must.”
“Thank you,” she grinned as he licked her palm, calming his pacing.
She stood, and the wolf allowed her to thread her fingers through his thick fur to scratch his neck, before he moved off to continue his patrol of this inner sanctum. She was tempted to try and summon Lupus, her wolf companion, but she felt something was missing in her, and she suspected the tadpole was the culprit. She hoped it would return soon.
The others were waiting on her, some more patiently than others, so she nodded to the door Kagha had waved them towards. As they stepped into the room, it was filled with the healthy scents of fresh and dried herbs, tangy resins, and funky mushrooms. A well stocked healing centre was to be expected in a druid grove of this size. A strong, tattooed Gold Dwarf bent over a bluejay, tending to its wing.
“Excuse me…”
“I see you. Just give me a moment,” the druid healer said without raising her eyes from her task.
Astarion tsked in his throat as he paced behind her. Kiera took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension from dealing with Kagha as she waited, casting a look to Shadowheart and Gale, both of whom were inspecting the medical books on the shelves.
“Vis medicatrix…” Nettie chanted, bringing forth green magic and healing the bird, who trilled happily in response, “There. It’s up to her now. Life or death.”
“Now, what was it you needed?” she said brusquely, turning towards Kiera and the others.
“We’re looking for Nettie?”
The dwarf chuckled, “You found her. But I still don’t know what she can do for you.”
“Ah, we’re in need of, um, healing?”
“Are you?” Nettie furrowed her brow, examining her, “You seem healthy enough. A bit tired around the eyes, maybe… I can help if something’s wrong. I’m no Master Halsin, but I can manage.”
“We, um,” she looked back at the others, receiving a ‘get on with it’ look from Astarion, “We were taken by mind flayers and infected with…”
“A tadpole? A mind flayer tadpole? Silvanus preserve you,” Nettie took a step back and pressed her hand to her chest.
“You know of them? Can you help us?”
Nettie's face clouded over with a guarded look, and she spoke more softly, as if trying not to let those out in the central well overhear, “That’s… a serious condition.”
“We have heard,” Astarion sighed, “Is there anything you can do for us?”
“Come,” she said more steadily, “Follow me. I might be able to help.”
She started walking towards a stone wall, reaching out her hand and casting a blue spell at it, presumably to open it. Kiera glanced at Gale, whose brow was furrowed. She wasn’t sure if wizards had magical instincts the way that she had instincts about the wilds, but she hoped if something was off about the magic Nettie was using, he would be able to tell. Astarion silently drifted up behind her, placing a light hand on her back and leaning to put his lips near her ear.
“Be on your guard. Something doesn’t feel right,” he whispered as he made a show of ushering her past the stone columns into a hidden back room.
“Such a gentleman,” Nettie chuckled awkwardly as she shut the stone door and another flash of blue magic emanated from her palm.
Kiera checked Gale’s reaction again and found him frowning even harder. He looked at her and she quirked an eyebrow in question, resulting in him pressing his lips together and giving her a small shake of the head. So, they were locked in, and in a way that made him suspicious.
“Is this a mind flayer tadpole?” asked Shadowheart, looking at a specimen floating in a jar of preservative.
“And did it come from that corpse?” Astarion asked, curling his lip in disgust.
“Aye. This one had the same problem as you. Attacked us in the woods together with some goblins,” Nettie nodded grimly, “Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.”
“So the drow and we have the same kind of parasite?” Kiera flinched, “I was hoping for a less grave cure.”
“Or some way to control it, so we don’t turn into tentacled monsters,” Astarion suggested.
“So, you killed him, and what? Laid him out of the table to study?” Gale asked, intrigued, and inspecting the cadaver.
Nettie turned away, looking sad, and took something from the table. When she turned back, she was holding a wand covered with wicked looking thorns, all of which shone unnaturally in the dim light of the room.
“No, that was Master Halsin,” she said calmly, “A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things - studied them. Still, we have options.”
She looked at the four of them, and sighed.
“All right, let’s see what we can do.”
“Thank you, I’ll take anything that can help,” Kiera smiled genuinely at her, “Will the plant help?”
“It might,” Nettie said solemnly, “But first things first. Tell me about your symptoms - have you noticed anything strange happening?”
Astarion snorted a desperate laugh, “You mean, aside from a tadpole squirming about behind my eye?”
Shadowheart giggled, and shook her head.
“Um, well, the tadpoles… talk to each other, sometimes. It’s really…” Kiera shuddered.
“Vile,” Astarion finished her sentence, “It’s vile and horrible.”
“But fascinating,” Gale suggested, “From a purely academic point of view, of course.”
“Interesting. So the tadpoles are still separate beings from you, but can connect you with itself and others,” Nettie pursed her lips, “How’d you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening.”
“On a mind flayer ship. The same one that crashed not too far away from here,” Kiera hooked a thumb over her shoulder, “We were kidnapped - from Baldur’s Gate and in the country - and infected on the ship.”
“A mind flayer ship?” Nettie frowned, “But Master Halsin was sure…”
She sighed again, dropping her head and frowning, shaking it as if to clear it of thoughts before looking at all of them.
“Look, you’ve been straight with me, so I’ll be straight with you. You’re dangerous. If you transform here, we’re all dead.”
Kiera’s stomach plummeted. The sheen on the thorns. She was certain it was poison. She heard Shadowheart straighten, and Astarion shift his feet into a fighting stance behind her.
“But you all seem like good souls. You deserve a chance to save yourselves,” she shook her head, setting the branch down on the table behind her, and pulled an ornate vial out of a satchel sitting beside it.
“This is a vial of wyvern poison. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms of turning,” she said fiercely.
Kiera firmed her lips into a line and nodded, “I swear it.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but… thank you. Here,” she handed the vial over, “There should be enough for all of you, if necessary.”
“I have my own preferred way to die, thank you,” Astarion said dismissively while moving toward the locked door, attempting to leave.
Kiera saw Nettie narrow her eyes at him, looking like she might pick up the wand again, but Kiera reached out a hand to stay her action. She shook her head, assuring her silently that it would be done.
“Is there no cure then?” Shadowheart asked quietly.
“Not that I’ve been able to determine,” Nettie shook her head, “But Master Halsin might have an idea that he hasn’t shared with me. You know, I’ve spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection. Then suddenly there’s dozens of you, maybe more.”
“Well, the ship did scoop us up from all over the area. Maybe there’s something more to it,” Gale suggested pensively.
“Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what in the Hells was going on,” Nettie shrugged, “Because you should all be changing. There should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you’re not. Weird powers aside, you seem perfectly normal.”
“What do you mean ‘should’ be changing?” asked Astarion nervously.
“You must have learned something from studying them?” suggested Gale at the same time.
“To answer you both, that thing in your head is apparently like nothing we’ve ever seen from mind flayers. It’s one of their worms, for sure, but this one gives you powers… Telepathic connections. And it doesn’t turn you into one of them. Not yet anyhow.”
“That’s… good news?” Kiera asked, uncertain, “You said you were tracking other victims. Did they change?”
“Hard to say, but there’s a lot we don’t know. Infected folks like you have been converging on an old temple of Selûne, and I’ve no idea why,” Nettie replied, “When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined on the spot. Whatever he found there, he didn’t make it back.”
“They were mercs - mercenaries not adventurers,” Kiera wrinkled her nose, “And it sounds like they turned tail and ran. They probably just left him behind. What would you have us do?”
“I’ve sent birds to find him, but the place is rotten with goblins. None of us can even get close,” Nettie looked towards the locked door, and Kiera wondered if the bluejay she was treating was the most recent casualty of their hope to find Halsin alive. She thought she would try to talk to the jay before they left.
Nettie stepped towards her, “You, though? You’re one of them, technically speaking, I mean. They probably won’t kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned. And perhaps he can save your life. How’s that sound?”
“Better than a mouthful of poison,” Astarion said snarkily, “But not by much.”
Kiera checked with Gale and Shadowheart, who both nodded, “All right. We’ll find Halsin.”
“Thank you,” Nettie breathed, “It would mean everything to the grove. To me. I wish I could tell you what happened out there, but those adventurers… mercenaries… were the only witnesses. And I suppose they’re long gone.”
“Well, two fell at your gate, and the third was a rude son of a bitch,” Kiera deadpanned, “But he did say that he was getting out of here. Maybe we can catch him before he goes and get some more information.”
“All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selûne and Master Halsin didn’t make it back,” Nettie shook her head, “Good luck out there. And if things start to go bad, remember the vial. Remember your oath.”
Kiera nodded solemnly, and Nettie magically opened the stone door, allowing them to go back into the clinic. Astarion was the first one out the door.
“Wyvern poison,” Shadowheart mused as she held it up to the light, “Can’t say I’ve tried it. I hope to keep it that way.”
“We’ll find Halsin and find a solution,” Kiera patted her shoulder as she passed the vial back to her for safekeeping.
Kiera tucked it securely in her backpack and turned to look for Gale, finding him more pale than before. She dropped back beside him, brushing his shoulder with hers.
“Hey, we’ll find a cure, Gale. I’m not going to give up that easily,” she assured him.
He gave her a wan smile, “Sorry. The very real threat of having to choose between ceremorphosis or death is making me feel a bit ill.”
He winced and rubbed at his chest, near the tattoo, which seemed to flicker slightly.
“Let’s set up camp here for the night. Maybe between the tieflings and some of the more welcoming druids like Rath, we can find some bedrolls and a quiet place to lie down.”
“That… would be welcome. I feel very tired.”
She looked ahead to find Astarion and Shadowheart already exiting the cave, heading out into the dim light of the early evening.
“We should get some food too,” Kiera sighed, “I found some vegetables in a hunter’s stash just before we found you. Perhaps someone has a bone they’d be willing to share for a simple soup. Or we can try fishing, if that’s not against some grove rule.”
“Oh, I can help with that. I am pretty handy in the kitchen,” Gale tried to sound more positive, despite the aching in his chest.
“Perfect,” she bumped his shoulder again.