Driftwood Never Looked So Good

by OctopusWriggles

Summary:

🟡 ON HIATUS 🟡
Will return in the fall

Then a third, and up till now completely unthinkable, thing occurred. The portal behind Gale yawned open once more. Underneath the dissonant crackling of the portal’s magic, Gale could hear the distinct sound of a voice yelling and cursing in a foreign language. And before the wizard could register what in all nine hells was happening, a young woman was spat out of the portal like a wad of Chessentan chewing tobacco. She crashed into Gale’s chest, exactly like he had crashed into her the day before. Unlike Gale though, Brix did not immediately brush herself off and greet him with a practiced smile.

Instead, she resumed her cursing. At least, that’s what Gale assumed it was. He couldn’t glean any singular word from her outburst, except one terribly rude four-letter word, which was now sprinkled liberally into every other sentence.

“You!” she finally shouted and pointed an accusatory finger at Gale. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Chapter 1: Kansas Is Not A Real Place

Summary:

In this chapter:
A wizard is pulled out of a rock and a young woman has several questions

The snow crept into the gaps in her sneakers and drenched her socks. Today had already been a nightmare – her cold and soggy feet now the cherry on top. With squelching steps, she lumbered down the street towards her apartment complex. She prayed that her neighbor wasn’t in - the last thing she was in the mood for was another of his batshit book recommendations. Or questions whether or not she had any new recipes she'd be interested in sharing, to which the answer had always been no. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by a strange sight. On the grey wall beside her was a shiny, swirling … whirlpool . It was pulsing in shades of purple and blue and gave a faint crackling sound. She had barely made sense of what she was looking at, before something even weirder happened. 

An entire human hand shot out.

“A hand? Anyone?” someone said in English . Ah. This is a dream. Or a hallucination. Or maybe it was the inevitable mental breakdown from Vivianne placing me on that insane shift rotation. Either way, she found herself dreamily approaching the hand and giving it a gentle shake. “Uhhh… perhaps I should have clarified! While I certainly am looking forward to making your formal acquaintance, that is dependent on getting me out first! So, give it a bit more of the old heave-ho?”

She complied without a word. With all her strength she tugged against a blazing current, until it finally let go and toppled her to the ground, with something heavy landing straight on top of her. When the spots faded from her vision, a face was inches away from hers. A face with deep set eyes, a neatly trimmed beard and a beaming smile.

“Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” the man said much too cheerily. At least his breath was fresh. What in the cinnamon flavored fuck – why is that my first concern!? She didn’t get the chance to grasp what the hell was going on, before the man scrambled up and offered her his hand. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this,” he said.

“No worries,” she groaned and stood up on her own. “You alright?”

“Yes, thanks to your valiant tugging!" he said. He was slightly taller than her and wore a purple kimono-like robe. "Hang on… something feels off.” 

He patted his collarbone, as if to check if he was still breathing. His expression changed rapidly in the span of a few seconds – first from relief, then to elation and then to confusion. She regarded him silently, waiting for any of this to make sense. 

“Uh, terribly sorry, but uhm… could you point me in the direction of the nearest library? Or better yet – a wizard’s tower? There is… well there are quite a few matters I’d like to seek advice from a colleague on...” Behind him the whirlpool had vanished and, in its place, stood a glowing purple circle of swirling patterns. If she hadn't known any better she would have guessed that there was some new graffiti artist in town. But she did know better; some kind of otherworldly shenanigans were afoot.

“Uh… wizards? Wait, what?” The confusion on the man’s face morphed into pure dread. He looked like he was about to say something, his mouth opening and closing at least three times in a row. He suddenly began making a series of intricate hand gestures, each growing more and more frantic. If she had not just pulled this man out of a magic portal with her own two hands, she would have been certain that he was a deaf cosplayer having a mental breakdown in sign language.

“Gods below… the Weave… I can’t feel it at all!” he whispered. His hands were fully shaking by now and his breathing had turned shallow. He turned to look at her, and it was as if he was silently begging her to somehow make sense of what had happened to him. She wished she could give the poor guy an answer, but she couldn't. She did have something else to give him though. 

“Okay, take a breath,” she said, keeping her voice low and steady. “It's Gale, right?” He nodded, and she continued.

“Listen Gale, we'll figure out what’s going on.” She reached out and took him gently by the arm. “My apartment is right up the road from here. We can head there and talk it all through over coffee. Or tea. Okay?” 

Light physical touch, just to keep him grounded but not restrained. Closed questions, so he didn’t get overwhelmed by information. Clear plan, easy-to-reach goals. Brix knew the playbook by heart, and she could see that it was working. Gale nodded again and took a shaky breath.

“You are right. No use panicking.” He shook his head and straightened himself up. “Tea sounds lovely. Thank you.”

“No worries. And please – call me Brix.”

--

Brix wanted to kick herself for not having cleaned the apartment. She didn’t have a walk-in closet, so much as a walk-on closet with gym clothes haphazardly scattered on the floor. A testament to her crappy aim and bad habit of tossing used clothes on the couch. Hopefully her new guest had the same talent for ignoring dust bunnies that she had. 

To her relief the strange man was about as single-minded as one could have hoped. He immediately headed for her bookshelf – a broad black Ikea monstrosity filled to the brim with her old textbooks, novels and self-help books her family had insisted on giving her. She headed to the kitchen; the only other room apart from the living room, leaving him to browse her hoard.

“You use milk or sugar in your tea?” she called out.

“Hm? Oh, both, thank you.” He answered distractedly. This afternoon had taken such a bizarre turn that the act of setting the table for coffee with a guest felt almost divine in its normality, despite not having played hostess in well over two years. They sat at her small dinner table in anticipative silence, each observing the other and trying to figure out exactly what to say.

“Nå, tell me about yourself.” It’s as good a place to start as any, I guess. It wasn’t.

After her first cup of coffee was empty, Brix had learned a few things about her unexpected visitor that made little to no sense. Gale was from a country (or dimension? Brix wasn’t sure) called Faerûn. He liked wine and poetry. 

Oh, and he was a full-blown wizard. 

Not a magician, in fact he had shot her a very dirty look when she accidentally called him that, but something called an archmage. A big deal apparently, since he name-dropped at least five different archmages and all their claims to fame. He made them sound like Oppenheimer or Gutenberg, but instead of atomic bombs or printing presses, these ones had made their name by somehow revolutionizing the world of magic.

Apart from being very good at talking about himself, the strange man also had a ton of questions. Where were they? Why was there no magic here? And how could a world possibly function without it? Brix tried to answer as best she could, though it had been so long since she had spoken English with anyone. She finally capitulated, taking out her phone to translate. Gale could not contain his fascination with her little device, and she gladly showed him how it worked. He fiddled with different apps on her phone and gave a delighted whoop when he figured out how to use the camera. The result was a rather unflattering picture of Brix mid-sip. 

They hit a snag, however, when it came to Brix explaining how the device worked. 

“I can only describe this as a technological world, instead of a magical one.” she said exasperatedly.

“Yes, but what does that mean ?” he pleaded.

“I don’t know, I’m not a… what’s the word … engineer! Try googling it.” That led to a whole different avenue of Wikipedia articles and YouTube shorts. To her amusement, Gale was disgusted by the latter.

“How do you expect anyone to gain any worthwhile knowledge in under a minute? And then it just jumps to the next completely unrelated topic? Unbelievable…” 

Brix didn’t feel like explaining the economy of attention spans on social media. Three cups of coffee and a whole heap of questions later, there was still an elephant in the room.

“So... how are you going to get back?” she finally asked. 

“Hm… Perhaps if I can learn more about this electricity your world seemingly runs on, I could use it as a temporary replacement for the Weave. With a few reworkings of the same spell I used to create the first gate, I think I’ll at the very least be able to get back to the same dimension as I started. Though where, or perhaps when I’ll land may be difficult to determine…” his expression grew dark. “And then of course… there is the matter of–” he cut himself off, turning back to his mug. 

“Right. Well I’m going to start dinner.” She punctuated this statement by taking the two empty mugs and marching into the kitchen. 

“Not on your life! I was raised better than to let my hostess toil away while I loaf around like an overstuffed pastry!” the wizard protested loudly.

“You have allergies?” Brix overruled.

“Brix, please,” he begged. “You are dangerously close to tainting my honor. As a Waterdavian I cannot possibly abide by this breach of decorum on my part!”

“You can use my phone to start your research. Just give me a second,” she said and fiddled with her cooking playlist. With the tunes blasting out of her little kitchen speaker, she tossed the phone to Gale, who begrudgingly accepted. Brix chuckled to herself and started preparing dinner. The shuffle-gods smiled upon her that evening, and before long she was humming along as the kitchen, and by extension the rest of the apartment, started smelling like tomatoes, bacon and sautéed onions.

She liked Gale, she decided. There was something about the way he wore his heart on his sleeve that made Brix feel like she’d known him for years. Plus, with his proud and slightly pompous attitude, Brix knew instinctively that he was incredibly fun to tease. At least he would be if they ever became actual friends.

Plus, she didn’t mind his looks. Over their conversation in the living room, Brix hadn't been able to ignore his long brown hair and well-kept beard. His eyes, deep-set and dark, held such an intense spark when he listened to her explain something so banal as an IKEA-store. And then there was a strange tattoo right on top of his collarbone. Brix herself wasn’t a stranger to the needle but getting a tattoo where the skin was so thin, and the bones were so close to the surface… He must have the pain tolerance of a rhinoceros. Her thoughts were interrupted by a triumphant laugh in the living room. Brix rushed in to see Gale, his smile shining like the sun. Between the two of them floated a glittering blue flame. A flame that took the shape of a large clawed hand.

“Brix! The Weave! It’s faint, but it’s coming back to me!” he cried excitedly.

“Gale, what is that?!”

“This? Oh, not to worry – it’s just a simple cantrip. But it’s a start! I’m sure I’ll be summoning mephits and myrmidons in no time!” he said, while the spectral hand flew into the kitchen and promptly helped itself to two plates in the cabinet.

“What the- what’s it doing?”

“Surely you cannot begrudge me for helping you set the table!” Gale scolded as he waltzed into the kitchen. Brix was too stunned to do much except lean against the fridge, while the ghost hand set the table. The wizard placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly at her. “It’s the least I can do.” Much to her annoyance, Brix allowed it. The pasta was ready in any case.

It was a simple dinner, but cheap and filling, just like Brix preferred. And if Gale didn’t like it, at least he was polite enough to pretend that he did. Once again the conversation flowed easily, especially once the disembodied hand poofed out of existence.

“So, how is it that you speak Common so well? I can tell by your accent that it’s not your native tongue, but you seem practically fluent!” Accent? What accent?

“We’re taught it in schools from a young age," she answered between bites. "Plus, I used to study abroad.”

“Aha! I knew you were a scholar!” Gale sounded very proud of himself at the revelation. “That bookshelf of yours was a dead giveaway, if somewhat modestly stocked –”

Brix nearly choked on her pasta and hurried to interrupt him before he could make his first guess to her field of studies.

“Nope… not anymore.” she coughed. Gale looked considerably disappointed. Time to do what she did best: deflect. “Anyway, how about you? You have a favorite school of magic?”

“Goodness, what a question…” he said and fumbled with his earring. It was a simple and elegant thing, looking almost like a compass with eight points. “I’ve always found Abjuration the most useful, though it’s hard to resist the flashy allure of a good Evocation spell. But the Illusion school of magic holds the most potential, in my humble opinion…”

“What sort of potential? Like creative potential or like there's more to uncover?”

The two continued their conversation while doing the dishes. Gale washed the dishes in the sink and Brix wiped them off and put them back in the cupboard. The domesticity felt so natural despite the supernatural circumstances. Conversation flowed as if the two had been friends for years. She could listen to him talk all night and she would have asked him questions all day. He was fascinated by all the gadgets in her kitchen, and Brix did her best to explain how they functioned and what they were for. 

"You can test them tomorrow morning, when I go to work," Gale stopped dead in his washing up. 

"Tomorrow?" He looked around the little apartment. “These lodgings, though very homely, aren’t exactly Brix AND Gale-sized.” 

“Yes they are.” She gestured to her sofa. The thought of Gale getting lost and trying to find shelter in the snow made her unexpectedly frightened. Especially since that kimono of his did not look nearly warm enough. 

“Brix, please. You've already been more than accommodating. I will find somewhere else to conduct my research. I would not want to overstay my welcome and test the boundaries of your already magnanimous hospitality."

"You take the bed. The couch is too short for you." If he was as smart as he liked to act, he would have realized by now how useless it was to argue with her. 

Notes:

And we're off! Thank you for reading this first chapter, there is much more isekai shenanigans to come.
Comments are very appreciated - it's the best way to improve my writing.

Next chapter:
Gale makes toast.

Chapter 2: C.S. Lewis Lied to Me

Summary:

In this chapter:
Gale makes toast.

Gale woke up in a cozy little alcove in an unknown realm of existence. The memories crashed over him as soon as he opened his eyes: the Nautiloid, the tadpole, the portal, and the girl with a strange accent. None of it made sense and yet here he was. Alive and well-rested - neither of which had been any sort of guarantee the day before.

With a loud yawn he sat up and took in his strange new surroundings. The wall next to the bed was covered in little pictures of all sorts of exotic locations. They showed beaches, cities, mountain ranges and even a couple of castles here and there.

Eventually his gaze fell upon a little portrait on a shelf beside the bed. It must have been created some time ago, judging by the figure in the frame. Firstly, Brix’s dirty blonde hair was tied in a neat braid and hung down her shoulder. A far cry from the short half-bun she sported when he met her. 

Secondly, her nose was tellingly straight in the picture. He had, after all, studied her now crooked nose up close and personal the day before, when he crash-landed on top of her. The memory made him cringe slightly; he was used to more… suave introductions, after all. More decorum and polite turns of phrase, and the wicked little twinge of pride that followed, when people showed the faintest flinch of awe at meeting the Gale of Waterdeep. But then again, he had never met the Brix of… wherever he was.

In the picture she wore a black robe with a colorful sash draped across her chest. Her eyes shone with pride, and she held a plaque in her hands, though he couldn’t make out what it said. The visions were so tantalizingly foreign, a riddle begging to be solved. But that would have to wait.

He needed to get back to Faerûn as quickly as possible. There was too much at stake and too many dangerous variables coming into play. His magic was slowly returning but so had the orb. A distinct throbbing in his chest alerted him to that. 

Then there was the question of the tadpole. Miraculously, he had not felt any movement from the illithid parasite, but that was no reason to be complacent. If Mystra could find her way back to him, who knew how long it would be before it would regain its abilities.

However, the process of getting back would not only be difficult, but possibly dangerous. He could only think of one spell that could get him back to Faerûn: ‘Gate’. Apart from the well-documented side effects, the incantation was also immensely complicated. It was a far cry from the little pocket dimension Gale had woven himself when falling from the Nautiloid. But perhaps a compromise could be reached… And if anyone could reach that compromise it would be him. 

He crawled out of bed and got to work. On the table where they had eaten dinner last night Brix had left a handwritten note for him.

Toast in left cupboard. Toppings in fridge. Help yourself to tea or coffee :)

Be back at around 16.00

Kh Brix

He hated to encroach further on her hospitality, but he knew from first-hand experience that he couldn’t work on an empty stomach.

He fished out the bread from the cupboard. An odd sight, as it was covered in a strange transparent textile of sorts and was unnaturally square-shaped. To his surprise it had already been sliced, so every piece was a perfectly uniform little tablet of bread. What was it about this place and its obsession with tablet-shapes? 

He put two pieces into the machine Brix had called a toaster, but not before examining the strange little contraption. It was small, rectangular, and had two thin slots at the top. A lever jutted from its side, and when an object had a lever, it was made to be pulled. Usually.

"Very well," he muttered. "Let’s hope this isn’t a trap."

He pressed the lever down. The machine hummed faintly, glowing from within like a tiny furnace. For a world without magic, this was eerily similar to a heating spell he had encountered during his first year at Blackstaff. Though how something like this could produce heat mechanically was a mystery.

He waited.

And waited.

Just as he was about to lean in for a closer look, the toaster violently ejected the bread directly into Gale’s face. The wizard yelped, stumbling back and flung the painfully hot toast onto the floor. “This thing is apparently more dangerous than I thought” he grumbled. “Well, if at first you don’t succeed… try until you do!”

The second attempt went much better, and Gale could enjoy a minimal breakfast of toast, jam and cheese. He reminisced about his days at Blackstaff, where he could get so wrapped up in his studies that he simply forgot to eat. Then Tara would knock over his inkpot in frustration and chastise him relentlessly. He missed the old girl. Of all the people and creatures that he knew, she was the only one he truly could say that of. 

Even before his self-imposed isolation Gale had to admit he didn’t have many friends. Colleagues, yes. Polite acquaintances, a handful here and there. Even the odd lover or two before his relationship with Mystra really took off. But friends? His thoughts turned unbiddenly to Brix. Could she be counted as a friend?

Even with her very economical use of words, or perhaps even because of it, Gale enjoyed their conversations immensely. She was surprisingly sharp-witted, not to mention generous… wouldn’t it be something to have a friend like her? Or perhaps her company just stood in contrast to their surroundings.

From the window of the little apartment, Gale could see nothing but grey. Grey buildings that glowered in anonymous-looking rows. Grey balconies stuck out like buck teeth, some adorned with laundry, others occupied by small tables and a single chair. Even the grey clouded sky seemed resigned and lifeless, heavy with the threat of more snow. And about 30 feet below him, a broad grey road snaked through the city, the boxy metal carts roaring past with the tell-tale rumble of engines.

--

He had lost track of time when a heavy click alerted him to the return of his hostess.

“Looks like Jerusalem’s destruction in here,” Brix said with slight amusement. With a sudden wave of embarrassment, Gale realized he may have gotten much too comfortable with his new surroundings. The entire living room was plastered with diagrams, equations and all sorts of scrawled notes.

“Oh! Apologies for the mess, I uh… seem to have gotten carried away in my research.”

“No worries,” she replied placidly and dumped her bag on the floor. Her clothes looked like those of a day laborer with her sturdy blue trousers and green jacket. “Any progress?”

“Quite remarkable progress, if I may be so immodest! My grasp of the Weave seems to be solidifying at an exponential rate. However, that only makes my return to my own world even more urgent.”

“Okay, I’ll have a cigarette and then I’ll give you a hand."

“Oh, don’t inconvenience yourself, I have it perfectly under control,” he said. Without removing her coat or shoes, she wove her way through the flood of notes onto the small balcony. Once outside, she lit a small paper cylinder with an odd-looking tinderbox and inhaled. The scent of tobacco wafted into the apartment and Gale wondered whether smoking pipes had not been invented here. “By the way, I don’t recall you mentioning your occupation.”

“I work at a hospital.”

“You’re a healer!?”

“Nope. Porter,” she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Anyway, tell me about the progress.”

Gale had never been able to resist the opportunity to talk about his work. If he just adjusted the physical components with a slight articulation to the gestures, it would theoretically amplify the working. And as expected, his hypothesis worked a treat. 

In front of him a portal yawned open. It was not as elegant as the last one – the edges were slightly more jagged and instead of a lush purple glow, this version flickered with a sickly blue tinge. Oh well, aesthetics notwithstanding it would get the job done. Probably…

Brix extinguished her cigarette and joined him in front of the portal. An awkward tension seemed to blanket the room as an uncomfortable realization dawned on the two.

“Well, ahem… I suppose this is where we part ways. Let me once again thank you for your wonderful hospitality. You could have easily walked away from the unknown mass of chaos last evening, but you didn’t. And in that moment of admirable tug-of-war skills, you may in fact have saved my life. I only regret that I cannot repay in kind.” He tried to force his smile to reach his eyes. When that didn’t work, he instead bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, my lady, I must bid thee a fond farewell.”

Brix stepped forward and gave him a tight hug. With her arms wrapped around his waist a long-forgotten warmth radiated from under her jacket and directly into his heart. It was the first time in his adult life he could remember being held like this and he didn't know quite how to react. 

His arms, almost moving on their own accord, landed around her shoulders and his hands gave her a slight squeeze. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her hair and let himself be enveloped in more warmth, more softness and more of the safety he felt in her embrace. But his thoughts were interrupted by the very source of those desires.

“Take care, Gale,” she said warmly, before releasing him. Had he been younger, he would have cried. Had he been bolder, he would have kissed her. But as he was, he cleared his throat, thanked her once more and stepped into the portal.

--

The sensation of being tossed and tumbled around the weightless void of a portal was just as uncomfortable as Gale remembered. Of all his considerable talents, he had always made a point to avoid spells like Arcane Gate and Dimension Door. Travel spells may be a convenience for some, but for Gale it was synonymous with motion sickness and lightheadedness. Still, there was nothing to do but grit his teeth and endure, picturing the destination in his mind’s eye.

The waypoint by the beach he was plummeting towards would be as good a destination as any. Soon he would be back in his own world. In the well-known embrace of the Weave. But he would also be at the mercy of the Orb in his chest. Not to mention the constant threat of the illithid parasite.

Perhaps this had been a mistake, he thought with sudden dread. Perhaps his temporary banishment had been a blessing in disguise, his final chance of starting anew. And as usual, Gale had been too blind to see it before it had slipped through his fingers. In the short time he had known her, Brix had already shown him so much kindness. If she was at his side perhaps the tasks ahead wouldn’t seem so daunting. He shook his head furiously and focused all his attention on a slowly growing light at the edge of the dimension.

This time Gale didn’t have to rely on any passing strangers to get out of his little experiment. Rather he was launched out of the interdimensional pocket like a cannonball, hitting the ground with an undignified thump.

Two things became apparent. Firstly, he was back in Faerûn. And to his immense relief he could feel the Weave again. The magic flowed around him like an easy stream. It poured itself into the marrow of his bones and into the blood in his veins. He was not, however, anywhere near the beach he had been hurtling towards less than two days ago. Instead, he was in a little square which was teeming with life. People of all shapes, sizes and species bustled about, taking no note of a stray wizard appearing from just another waypoint stone.

Gale examined his surroundings for any clue as to where he had landed himself this time, before his eyes fell on a large banner hanging from a looming stone buttress. It was decorated with a coat-of-arms: a ship with raised sails on a delicate blue background. 

Baldur's Gate. 

The second thing that made itself known was the Netherese Orb. Fortunately, instead of a city-destroying rage, it seemed satisfied to strike him with an insistent sting under his sternum. It wouldn’t be long before he had to find another artefact. The orb, however, was not the only thing stirring. Behind his eyes Gale could feel the tadpole wriggling furiously. Whatever connection it had to its illithid masters was severed for now and it was seething with impotent rage. Gale couldn’t help but smile wickedly. Serves you right, you little blighter!

Then a third, and up till now completely unthinkable, thing occurred. The portal behind Gale yawned open once more. Underneath the dissonant crackling of the portal’s magic, Gale could hear the distinct sound of a voice yelling and cursing in a foreign language. And before the wizard could register what in all nine hells was happening, a young woman was spat out of the portal like a wad of Chessentan chewing tobacco. She crashed into Gale’s chest, exactly like he had crashed into her the day before. Unlike Gale though, Brix did not immediately brush herself off and greet him with a practiced smile.

Instead, she resumed her cursing. At least, that’s what Gale assumed it was. He couldn’t glean any singular word from her outburst, except one terribly rude four-letter word, which was now sprinkled liberally into every other sentence.

“You!” she finally shouted and pointed an accusatory finger at Gale. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Notes:

Gale is such a fun character to write - not only because his personality and character arc are so engaging, but also because the voice actor, Tim Downie, is a veritable GOLDMINE of inspiration on cameo. Hope you enjoy reading from his perspective as much as I enjoy writing it.
Also, Brix's nationality is for now left ambiguous on purpose, though you might pick up on some clues here and there ;)

Next chapter:
Brix makes a new friend(?)

Chapter 3: Racial Sensitivity Training for Earthlings

Summary:

In this chapter:
Brix makes a new friend (?)

Brix had seen a lot of weird shit in her time. Hell, she had done a lot of weird shit in her time. But being sucked into an interdimensional portal like a stray hair tie into a vacuum cleaner was a first. Yet here she was, standing on two shaky legs and not knowing where the hell in Hyderabad she was. And in front of her stood the man who (though she had no idea how) was responsible for this colossal fuck-up. To his credit, Gale looked as confused and terrified as was appropriate in Brix’s opinion.

“Gale. Tell me exactly what is going on,” she said, straining to keep her voice steady. No need to alarm the passersby who hadn’t spared them a second glance.

“I… Brix… how did you… This isn’t…” he must have made five more false starts before he finally scratched his beard in contemplation. “There must have been some malfunction in the interplanar di...”

“Well fucking fix it – I have work tomorrow!”

“That may be… inadvisable.” Gale winced. Brix did not like that wince. “You see – that spell is of a particularly demanding nature. I could only cast it because I had gotten enough rest, thanks to you, but attempting it twice in one day would be highly dangerous. Not just to me, but to you as well.”

“I have to wait till tomorrow to get back?!”

“I know this must be a terrible inconvenience for you, but I assure you I will make it my top priority! I just hope you will extend me an ounce of patience in this regard. I cannot recover my spell casting on command. No matter how much I would like to.” 

Gale looked at the ground, obviously ashamed. He looked like her grandmother’s dog, when it was being hosed down after rolling in the flower bed for the umpteenth time in a row. But as far as Brix knew, Egon had never accidentally kidnapped anyone and transported them to an alien planet!

She sat down on the ground and groaned loudly. This just isn’t happening. This is all a nightmare. I’m going to fall asleep and wake up in my own bed, in my own apartment and then I’ll never watch the History Channel before bedtime ever again! Ancient Aliens Marathons are not worth it if this is the kinda bullshit I have to deal with! She could have stayed like that forever, but how on earth would that solve anything? Nightmare or not, she was here now. With a huff she stood herself up.

"Right. So now what?" she asked. Gale fiddled with his earring. Brix decided she deserved a medal for not ripping the damn thing out of his head then and there. Finally he cleared his throat and straightened up once more.

"Well, I suggest we find some room and board. There is an excellent tavern not far from here if I recall correctly."

“You’ve been here before?”

“Only once. It was before I began my illustrious career as an apprentice at the Blackstaff Academy. My father brought me here to gather the necessary equipment and tomes for my studies – even the most reputable stores in Waterdeep paled in comparison to the veritable treasure troves of knowledge found here…”

"You’ve been here on a shopping trip.” she interrupted.

 “Book shopping,” he corrected her grumpily. “But yes. Brix, it is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to Baldur's Gate." With that, he led the way down the narrow streets of the mysterious city. Brix struggled to keep up, because the man didn't walk - he strode! 

"Were there so many…" she fumbled for any word in any language that wouldn't get her into trouble. Finally she capitulated and gestured silently towards a passing woman in a gorgeous robe and ears as long as Brix's entire hand. 

"Nobles?" he asked in confusion.

"No, people with pointy ears!" she whispered. This is how Gale learned that Brix had never met a humanoid that wasn’t, well, human. And Brix was equally shocked when he listed off the myriads of humanoid species, which she only knew from fairytales and myths.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve had teachers who were elves, dwarves and what was the last one – halflings?”

“Oh yes, Salibuck the Younger. Good man, terribly dull lectures, though.”

“Christ, next you’ll tell me the janitor was a vampire,” she muttered. At this comment Gale burst out laughing. 

“What? What’s so funny?” After his fit of hysterics finally subsided he wiped a tear from his eyes.

"Oh… I was just picturing a vampire lord… ancient, decadent, cruel… wielding a mop and bucket and scowling…" he could barely get the words past his lips before another peal of laughter erupted from him. Brix shook her head. Great. He has either lost his damn mind or there's a joke I'm not getting. Either or, I'm not dealing with it. 

--

They stopped at a large and luxurious looking tavern. Gale excused himself to get them set up with room and board, leaving Brix to make a beeline for the bar and ordered her first beer in over a year. A force of habit compelled her to take her phone out as she sat down, but with a sting of unease she remembered that it was stuck back in her work bag.

“Just my luck. I can’t even call in sick tomorrow. Vivianne is going to be up my ass like a badger in a new burrow. Just beat me over the head with a tire iron and call it a day...” she grumbled to herself. She always ranted to herself when she needed to poke fun at the world and make it a little more absurd and a little less scary. 

Although it was hard to think of anything more absurd than being stuck in an alternate universe with a whole-ass wizard . She had barely gotten through the first sip of beer, before a silky voice grabbed her attention like a fist at her throat.

“Well, hello .” The voice belonged to a slim, pale man who had sat down beside Brix. He swirled his drink in a silver goblet, regarding Brix with the curiosity a cat might observe a particularly plump bird. “Aren’t you an exotic little treat?”

“Try again,” she answered sourly.

“Excuse me?”

“Try. Again. If you’re going to introduce yourself, do it properly.”

“Ha! Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” the man laughed. “Would you be willing to demonstrate?”

He was a strange-looking creature. Not ugly, in fact he was probably quite handsome in the right lighting, with his sharp features and dangerous smile. But beneath his silvery curls his ears stuck out, long and pointed. And his eyes looked… wrong. They were feline in shape and the dim light of the bar made the look almost red. Like roses. 

Or fresh bloodstains.

“I’d start with my name. Like this,” she thrust out her hand. “Brix.” 

The pale elf smirked and played along, taking her hand and kissing it. His touch sent shivers down her spine. Everything from his slender hand to his lips was cold and hard as ice.

“My name is Astarion,” he said in that low silken drawl. “A pleasure to meet you, darling.” He was too perfect. Too manicured. Too easy.

“Nope. Now you’re laying it on too thick,” she grinned. The elf’s eye twitched.

“Well, apparently that’s necessary when talking to someone whose parents decided to name them after building blocks!”

“Coming from an overgrown snowdrop?”

“Better than looking like a shaggy-haired dog with a hangover!" The elf was not like Gale. When they talked, Gale was like a dance partner. He matched her steps and twirled her around to examine the world from new angles. This one was like an opposing boxer: all jabs, taunts and feints. 

 

They went back and forth trading verbal blows and Brix found herself enjoying their little sparring match. Her opponent may have had what the Germans would refer to as a Backpfeifengesicht - a face in desperate need of a slap - but he was wickedly funny.

Then something went wrong. Dreadfully wrong. The elf’s eyes went glassy, and he drooped over his goblet like a puppet with its strings cut. Perhaps it was just the beer that had her confused. Or maybe whatever he was drinking didn't agree with him.

“You okay?” Brix asked hesitantly. He snapped back upright and his eyes focused on her again. Brix would never be able to explain it for as long as she lived, but when he looked at her this time, it felt like something else was watching her through his eyes . 

Something colder and crueler.

"Astarion?" she asked again. 

“Apologies, my dear. I was simply thinking of taking this riveting discussion somewhere more... private. I know a place in the Upper City,” he finished by leaning in close to Brix and whispered the last part into her ear. Again, though she couldn't explain it, she instinctively knew that even though the voice was his, the words weren’t. And whatever it was, it was a predator and Brix was its prey.

“Brix!” Gale’s voice rang out across the bar.

“No thank you, man. Enjoy your evening!” she said and darted towards the wizard. The pale elf didn’t chase after her but sat motionless at the bar with unseeing red eyes. 

“Who was that?” Gale asked.

“My new best friend,” she answered, still shaken by the encounter. “Is there somewhere I can get some fresh air?”

--

The terrace overlooked the whole city, now glowing with lamplight and stars above them. It was a warm evening, and the sea stretched out towards the horizon. Below them she heard the soft murmur of voices from the tavern and the streets. Even at night the city was humming with life uninterrupted. Unlike the constant drone of passing cars, rainfall and the muffled bass of her neighbors late-night listening habits, the sound of Baldur’s Gate sounded harmonious to Brix’s ears. She tried to think of any number of words to describe the sensation, but the only one that came close was ‘freeing’.

“This place is really something…” she murmured.

“It’s no Waterdeep,” Gale said. “But I suppose it’s a decent runner up.”

“What’s it like?” she asked. The question didn't light him up as such, but it made him glow. That heartfelt and nostalgic joy that paints someone who truly loves their hometown whenever they get to reminisce. 

“It’s called the City of Splendors for a reason," he began softly. "The Spires of the Sea Ward are worth the trip alone. An architectural marvel in their own right, looking positively gilded in the sunlight. The streets vibrate with the constant bustle of merchants and nobles alike, all blending and bartering to their hearts’ content. And then of course there’s the Blackstaff Academy – the most prestigious school for mages in all Faerûn. You can see the entire city from its tower, stretching out underneath you like a tapestry of lives, loves and arts.”

Brix tried to imagine it; Gale giving her a guided tour through a magnificent city, pointing out sites of interest and showing her all the must-try foods. She could practically smell the seawater and spices from the marketplaces. The familiar giddiness of visiting somewhere new began bubbling in her belly.

“I’d love to see it.” 

“I would love to have shown it to you,” he answered. Brix couldn't help but notice the sadness in his voice. He suddenly looked much older; the self-confident swagger shrugged off him like a jacket that was too warm. Even his hair looked like it had silver streaks through it now, though that might just have been the moonlight. Before her stood a man who looked like he had the weight of several worlds on his shoulders. 

“Could you show me some magic?” she blurted out. That brought the now-familiar spark back to his eyes. 

“I think I could do you one better,” he replied, a sly smile dancing on his lips. “Follow my lead.” 

He showed her a series of hand movements that produced a beautiful soft spark of light in the space between them. Brix had to ask him to repeat the movements much slower. When she finally felt confident enough, she tried to imitate them, though her attempt was jerky and clipped compared to the rapid fluidity of Gale’s hands. But even so, the same flash of soft light sprang from her and something… shifted. The air seemed to warm around them and Brix felt like a magnet was pulling at her body. Pulling her closer to the man in front of her.

“Excellent.” The sound of his voice, or maybe the sudden warmth in the air, made her cheeks flush. “Now repeat after me;” he recited a string of words, and his voice echoed slightly with each syllable. She giggled through the first couple of attempts, as it sounded so silly to her. It was a tongue-twister of nonsense, but so are all foreign languages when starting out, she comforted herself. Eventually she sounded it out, and as soon as the last word rolled off her tongue, she could taste something sweet and floral on it. The magnetism in her body intensified, the pull more insistent than before. The sensations sent a slight shock through her, and for a moment the atmosphere trembled.

“No, no, you’re doing wonderfully,” Gale said with an encouraging smile. “Now, this is a bit abstract, but I want you to picture the concept of harmony. ”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t give you examples – it must come from within you, unadulterated by outside influences. But think of the last time you felt truly at peace, or in sync with another being.” Brix closed her eyes to let the images flow freely.

She was back in her own kitchen. The music was playing softly from her creaky little speaker, and she was doing the dishes. With Gale. They were talking and laughing and learning from each other. His voice didn’t cut through the music as much as it just floated over it. Like it was just part of the song. 

When she opened her eyes the space between her and Gale was lit up in a soft purple glow. There was a soft hum around her, as if some unseen figure was watching over them both. And the tugging between the two of them grew more insistent than ever, begging her to close the gap between them…

“You did it!” Gale's brown eyes were wide and gleaming with excitement at the sight of the Weave given form. It made Brix stumble. He’s wrong. I haven’t done anything, I can't do such a thing, I couldn’t have… She lost her balance, and the Weave slipped from her grasp. The sense of well-being, the sweetness on her tongue, the warmth in the air, it all dissolved in an instant. In its place was just the cool night air and a lingering feeling of loneliness.

“I… I’m sorry.” Brix said quietly. She couldn’t meet the wizard's gaze. She didn’t have the courage to face the disappointment, or worse, the pity.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” he replied, kinder than he should have been. “You got all the components right, after all. Some things just have a habit of slipping away from us.” They stood in a strained silence for a bit, half awkward, half melancholy.

“We should call it a night,” Gale finally said. “I took the liberty of reserving a room for you earlier. It’s down the hall with a view of the square. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me, but it is perfectly sanitary and has all the amenities of a respectable inn. Should it not live up to your standards, then by all means – ”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Brix interrupted him, slightly sharper than she intended. “I mean, thank you. Sleep well.”

“And to you.” Gale said with a polite bow.

The room was almost the size of her apartment with a grand carved bed, a copper tub and an imposing wooden cabinet stocked with wine bottles and fancy silver goblets. She ignored it all and crawled into bed, throwing her jeans, jacket and sweater on the chair beside it. She threw her face into the pillow and sighed loudly. All the excitement of the day and the humiliation on the terrace tumbled around her mind like clothes in a washing machine. 

So, not only am I stuck in a strange town with strange beings and a strangely handsome man, I STILL manage to make a damn fool of myself! Poor bastard has no idea what a disappointment he's dragged along… It’s all wasted; His silly gentleman-shtick, his enthusiasm, his smile… 

The last thought that flickered across her mind before she fell asleep puzzled her though. Wait - where the fuck is he sleeping?

Notes:

Poor Brix cannot catch a break!

Don't worry - we'll meet Astarion again later down the line. Lord knows I couldn't escape that vampire even if I tried.
As always, comments are welcomed with open arms and red carpets <3

Next chapter: Gale takes a walk down Memory Lane in Baldur's Gate.

Chapter 4: Captain Of the Good Ship S.S. Shitouttaluck

Summary:

In this chapter: Gale takes a walk down Memory Lane in Baldur's Gate

Notes:

CW: Gale's suicidal ideation and general angst.

When Gale returned to his own room for the night he broke down into a crumpled heap on the floor. 

Out of all his many blunders, his failures and his follies, it had never affected anyone other than himself. Until now. If not for a momentary indulgence of his most selfish desires, that poor girl would have been safe and sound in her home. But now she was stuck in Baldur's Gate, until he could muster up enough strength to attempt to cast ‘Gate’, once more. And who knew how long that would take? And how much time did he even have before either the orb or the parasite woke from their respective hibernation?

Gale forced himself off the floor and crept into bed. His body was reeling from opening two whole portals in as many days. It felt like black mass of exhaustion flowing into every creaking joint and every aching bone. After what felt like hours a restless sleep finally took over.

In his dreams the cursed book opened itself up to him like it had so often before. The swirling maw of black Weave buried itself into his chest, filling him with unnatural hunger. But something was different. 

Instead of the usual dissonant whirring noise of the book being opened, this time Gale heard a woman screaming. Instead of the usual searing pain that felt like his very blood had been set ablaze, he was chilled to the bone. But what drove this regular nightmare into a full-on terror were the visions. On all other nights, ever since he had been struck by this curse of his own hubris, the only thing he ever saw was the book itself. It was a plain yet well-kept old tome, black leather-bound cover with a purple border. 

Tonight, it warped. The leather twisted and ripped itself into painful folds until it had recreated the shape of a mindflayer’s head.

Gale woke up in a cold sweat as the dawn began to break. And the orb awoke with him.

--

He ignored the ache in his chest as best he could when he knocked on the door to Brix’s room. Behind it he heard a muffled groan and a dull thump hitting the door from the other side. Evidently not a morning person.

“I’m headed downstairs for some breakfast,” he called out. “You’re most welcome to join me, but I must insist that we leave within the next hour or so.”

He made his way down to the tavern and ordered a large breakfast and a pot of coffee. Perhaps Brix would like some too, so he made sure to request two cups. He had just started on his eggs when Brix lumbered down the staircase, with her odd green jacket tucked under her arm.

"'Morn'," she mumbled as she slumped into the chair across from him. 

"Good morning," Gale replied as cheerfully as he could. He was still slightly groggy from the restless night, but Brix didn't need to know that. She had enough on her plate as it was. Speaking of which; "Aren't you going to have any breakfast?" 

"Coffee's fine," she said and poured herself a cup. 

"That hardly seems like a healthy choice," Gale reprimanded lightly. "Didn't you say you work at a hospital? Surely your colleagues would agree tha-"

"Shush." Brix's interruption was punctuated by a long sip of her drink. If Gale hadn't known any better he would have suspected her of purposefully drawing it out just to prolong the silence between them. The meaning was clear: whatever opinion he might have on her morning routine was not a conversational topic. 

"So. What's the plan?" she asked, after emptying her cup.

The plan was simple, in theory. Gale would bring Brix to the nearest Waypoint Stone, redirect it to lead back to her world and escort her there just to make sure everything went smoothly. He  would then use the same portal to return here, just to conserve energy. He explained it to her in detail while finishing his breakfast.

"Then you'll be back in your own apartment, and this little detour will be no more than a footnote in the grand tome of our respective adventures," he concluded. 

--

They left the Elfsong Tavern and Gale tried his best to distract himself from the growing hunger pangs in his chest by sharing anecdotes and trivia about Baldur's Gate. Brix only seemed to half-listen, when out of nowhere, she went pale as a ghost and ducked behind him.

"Dude, what the fuck, is that a demon!?" she hissed. 

He clasped his hand across her mouth in mortified silence as a handsome tiefling soldier marched towards them. His orange eyes burned with fury and Gale feared it wouldn't be long before he brandished his longsword at the two of them.

“Who are you calling a demon, long pig?”

“Allow me to apologize on my companions behalf. Her lack of tact is due to pure ignorance rather than malice, I can assure you." Gale rambled. The soldier scoffed and spat at the ground in front of Brix before turning away. When he was out of earshot Gale finally removed his hand from Brix’s mouth.

“That was not a demon,” he said tightly. “He is a tiefling. And I suggest we familiarize you with the appropriate, or perhaps inappropriate epithets before you make another outburst like that.” 

Brix went bright red and mumbled something under her breath about how she could have known. Gale thanked his lucky stars they hadn't run into a dragonborn, or who knew how she might have reacted. 

“That was an oversight on my part. Being as well-traveled as you are, I hadn't foreseen how the lack of other humanoid species in your world would impact… well, etiquette "

"Well-travelled?" Brix asked with a puzzled look. 

“The little cards over your bed. I assumed they were souvenirs from previous voyages?”

“Oh… yeah. They’re from my time at uni.” she replied. Then, with a rare smile she added: “I used to jump at any chance to travel. Fieldwork, scholarships, conferences…” Her voice trailed off as she was swept up in some nostalgic wanderlust. 

He was eager to steer the conversation to her globetrotting tendencies, when the orb roared to life. It felt like something was collapsing in on itself from within Gale's chest and the pain nearly blinded him on his left eye. He leaned against the nearest wall and forced himself to take deep breaths.

“..le?” The sound of Brix’s voice was distant and warped. “Gale, you okay?”

“Hm? Oh yes… just dizzy. No need to fret.” 

“Okay, but let’s find a place to sit down.” She led him to a bench nearby where he promptly collapsed. “Are you sick?” 

The wizard stood at a crossroads. He could either tell her about the orb or immediately start searching for an artifact to sate the hunger. 

He liked Brix, truly. But she only had a cursory understanding of magic and most likely had no idea what to look for. And even if she did, would she even want to? Or would she see it as just another burden in a growing line of let-downs? Another series of cavernous cramps rocked through his body and pragmatism won out against wounded pride.

“Not in the traditional sense," he began with a wince. "I have a condition of a more… arcane persuasion. I’ve been able to manage it on my own for quite some time now. Though it demands a delicate balance and considerate effort to keep under control…”

“Stop stalling and tell me what's wrong.”

“I’m not stalling – I’m merely setting the scene,” he argued. “But what it comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside. It's been days since I last consumed an artifact. And the consequences could be deadly if I don’t rectify it soon.”

“Okay. Where do we find these items?” Her bluntness caught him off guard. 

“I’m sure we won’t have to look far. Usually, an item will have some magical sigil inscribed or embroidered into it. Or in the case of rings or amulets, they will be set with stones that glow slightly with the power of the Weave. Then of course there is always the Humming Test.”

“The what?”

“Magical artifacts give off a subtle vibrating sensation when touched. It’s like they hum in tune with the Weave; therefore, you can always test the veracity of the shopkeepers claim whether you are handling a trace of the Weave or just another trinket.”

“Okay. Let’s take a quick break then. When you're up for it we'll split up and meet back here around sundown." There were no follow-up questions, no suspicious glares, just a simple practicality. He might as well have asked her to join him to go grocery shopping. He agreed and after catching his breath, set out for the one place he was certain would have a remedy: Sorcerer's Sundries. 

--

It was a strange feeling, walking alone amongst people again for the first time in over a year. Before the Nautiloid, Gale had stolen away in the middle of the night and was heading north, avoiding the most heavily trafficked routes out of Waterdeep. He had made a considerate effort to avoid any crowds, and now here he was on the bustling streets of one of the largest cities in Faerûn. 

He really wasn’t looking forward to the filthy looks, the hushed whispers or gods forbid, the spitting. Still, he would have to grin and bear it if anyone decided to antagonize him as Mystra's Disgrace. If not for himself, then at least for the sake of the city and its innocents. Thus, his first order of business had to be the acquisition of a magical artifact. But where the hells was that damned shop again?

Gale spotted a Flaming Fist he could ask for help. A handsome young man, bald as an egg and with a severe look on his face.

“Pardon me, young man. Could you point me in the direction of Sorcerers Sundries?”

“Of course, saer. Just follow this path down to Old Town Avenue and you’ll find it right across the square,” the Fist answered.

“Much obliged.”

“Fist Ravengard! You’re wanted at High Hall!” another Fist called out to the young man. Ravengard?

“Duty calls. Good day, saer.” The addressed bowed politely and hurried off. Gale made his way down the path the young man had pointed out and tried to recall if Duke Ravenguard of Baldur's Gate had any children. The steadfast member of Baldur’s Gate’s ruling council was famous for his military prowess, but Gale had never heard anything about his familial relations. Surely a son or nephew in the same order as he had started in would be common knowledge though, wouldn’t it? 

His thoughts were interrupted as he passed a familiar marble shrine. The Stormshore Tabernacle was the first temple Gale had ever visited dedicated to so many different gods. He recalled being childishly offended about that.

“But Mystra is the goddess of magic! She’s the best out of all of them! Why does she have to share the temple with other gods?” he had complained. 

Gale didn’t remember what his father had answered, hells, he barely remembered the man at all. But standing outside the shrine a lifetime later, he found himself wishing he could remember at least that one conversation. But then again, would it have changed anything? A part of him thought of offering a few coins and a prayer at the shrine of Mystra. Another part scoffed at him for even considering it. She hadn’t spoken to him for a year, why would she start now? 

He shook off the ponderings as he approached the colorful domes of Sorcerous Sundries. The half-elf behind the counter didn’t spare him a second glance. Curious . In fact, no-one in the crowded shop even glanced towards him. And Gale wasn’t exactly hard to pick out in a crowd. His picture had been in enough wizards’ gazettes and annals around the country to make him annoyingly recognizable. 

Surely the wizarding community of Baldur’s Gate had by now heard all about the Walking Calamity of Waterdeep and his Netherese blight. So either the clientele of Sorcerous Sundries had become exceptionally discreet since his last visit, or something else was afoot. A theory began to brew in the back of his mind. A theory he didn’t particularly like.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to have any magical artifacts for sale? Amulets? Rings? Cowls?” he asked the young shopkeeper. She was a young half-elf, dark-haired and had sparkling green eyes. 

“No saer, we only deal in books here,” she replied. 

“I see." How could he have forgotten? Sorcerer's Sundries was the biggest book-shop, not a boutique. 

“You could always try Lucky Aello's by the Basilisk Gate,” she added . “He sometimes has a few magical bits and bobs in stock, though it tends to range from lightly enchanted to heavily cursed.”

“Ah! Thank you, that is most appreciated." He turned to leave the busy shop, but something caught his attention. “One more thing though. Would you happen to have a copy of today’s newspaper?” She handed him a copy of Baldur’s Mouth Gazette. At the sight of the front page Gale’s theory morphed into an indisputable fact.

--

The rest of the day passed in a blur. There was no luck at finding any suitable items at Lucky Aello's, other than a lightly enchanted ring that let the wearer see in all green. By now the hunger pangs of the orb were so overwhelming they made him nauseous. He chastised himself and stubbornly put one foot in front of the other. Gale was so lost in thought and pain that he barely registered the people around him. It wasn’t until a stocky little tiefling girl barreled horns-first into him that his train of thought came to a screeching halt.

“Karlach! Don't run off like that!” her exasperated mother groaned. “I’m so sorry, she’s full of energy these days.”

“Oh, no worries,” Gale said, tenderly rubbing his ribs. “Are you alright, young lady? That was quite a crash.”

“I’m not a lady! I’m a devil! RAAAAARRR!” she roared and ran off, laughing boisterously.

“Sweetheart, what have I told you about using that word?!” her mother called out, chasing after the little scamp. Gale couldn’t help but chuckle. Granted, as a child he was never so physically active, but the little girl’s mischievous streak reminded him of all the trouble he would get into as a child. The occasional fireball and accidental summoning was a far cry from the kind of trouble he seemed to get himself into these days. 

And now he’d run out of time. The arcane hunger was now blazing like a bonfire throughout his chest. It was time to return to his original plan: bring Brix back home, find a secluded spot somewhere and… let go.

But before that, he would commit one final act of selfishness. He let his fingers run over the little necklace he had bought; a simple pendant set with a purple agate-stone. Not too flashy, but elegant all the same. It would suit her. 

Brix’s green jacket and blue trousers were easy to spot in the crowd and he was curious to find her standing with two others. One Gale recognized instantly as an old friend, who looked the same as he always had. The second one, a woman, looked much younger than the last time he saw her.

Notes:

Sooo... did you work out the twist? ( ° ͜ʖ °)

Next chapter: Brix meets an odd pair.

Chapter 5: Not an Oxymoron, Just a Regular Moron

Summary:

In this chapter: Brix meets an odd pair

She wandered around for a while, taking in all the sights and sounds of the city. Narrow cobblestone streets, sandstone buildings towering on each side, colorful streamers hanging from windows: this place could easily be confused for some southern European tourist hub. If not for the fact that an actual dragon had just walked past her. 

It looked at her in a cross between confusion and curiosity, or at least that’s how she interpreted it. She wasn't used to decoding the facial expression of reptiles. But still, she knew that she must stick out like a sore thumb, in sneakers and grandfather's old corduroy jacket. She’d have to be extra careful not to run the risk of being scammed or worse. But then again, playing the part of a naïve foreigner had gotten her out of a few tricky situations before. Now to find some magic thingamabobs for Gale. How hard could it be?

--

Three hours later, Brix was ready to throw herself off a cliff. She had gotten lost at least half a dozen times in the span of a couple of hours. She had managed to trip over a very short man with bluish-grey skin and pointy ears, who promptly called her some kind of slur before storming off. And for all her trouble and asking around, she hadn't found anything that gave so much as a buzz, when she touched it. With a frustrated groan, she slumped down onto a bench and took out a cigarette. The first for today.

“Now there is a visage most clouded by stormy countenance and troubled air. Mayhaps a humble weaver of wonders such as myself could aid in clearing the skies of thy consternation?”

Brix looked up from lighting her cigarette and locked eyes with what could only be described as a discount-Dumbledore. An old man, complete with pointy hat and a long beard. He smiled at her and his eyes twinkled slightly, as if he had just stumbled upon a particularly challenging crossword puzzle.

“You a wizard?”

“Indeed, my astute new acquaintance. Before you stands Elminster Aumar, Sage of Shadowdale, Weavemaster and devotee of the arcane arts, at your service.” Brix took a puff of the cigarette, stood up and shook the old man’s hand firmly.

“Brix. Nice to meet you.” His brow shot up beneath the wide brim of his hat. Apparently, he wasn’t used to such an informal greeting.

“Ah, the pleasure is mine and mine alone! But tell me — by what means may I endeavor to assist you on this golden afternoon?” Did I somehow manage to meet the one person who could out-yap Gale of goddamn Waterdeep!? Or do all wizards just live in constant fear of being beaten to death with a baseball bat unless they speak in sentences under 30 seconds?

“Well, uh… I am looking for magical items to… start a collection. But I don't know where to find any,” she lied. The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Hmm… Magical artifacts are not mere trinkets to be plucked from the ether. No, they are as the hidden roots of ancient trees, buried deep within the vaults of nobles or entombed within the earth where only the most daring adventurers may seek them!” Of course. You’d think the dumbass would have warned me of that minor detail. “And yet, the winds of fate shift in your favor this day! As it happens, I am visiting this magnificent metropolis along with a dear friend of mine, who may well be persuaded to part with some of these treasures, if only to reclaim the space they so greedily consume.”

“Wait really? That’s amazing! How can I repay you?” At this Elminster chuckled mischievously.

“Haha, fear not, I demand neither coin nor deed, only a gift most precious to me - knowledge! Your accent gives you away as no mere drop of rain in a familiar tempest, no… you are a whisper of seasons yet to come, a traveler carried upon unseen gales!”

“Ha! Nail on the head, Mr. Omar,” she laughed. “Wait, what accent?”

“Ahem… that’s Aumar. But come. Speak of your home as we walk.” At this, Brix hesitated. If there was one rule binge watching true crime documentaries had taught her, it was this: Never go to a second location.

“Or you can bring her here instead, and I’ll tell you both at the same time? No need for you to hear the same story twice in a row.” The wizard cocked his head slightly but gave her an approving nod and a disarmingly friendly smile.

“If that is your wish, I see no reason not to acquiesce. A moment’s patience, and I shall see to it that the two of you are properly acquainted!” With a gracious bow, he left her. Brix released the tension in her shoulders with a long drag of her cigarette.

She didn’t know why she had lied about why she needed the artefacts. But for some reason Gale had not wanted to tell her about his condition, so she decided to keep those particular cards close to her chest. Especially if it was such a pain to get them in the first place. Why did he need to do it though? And more importantly, how did he do it?

Elminster arrived with a short woman at his side. She looked like she was around her mid-30’s or early 40’s, if Brix had to guess. Her grey-streaked hair was tied up in an intricately braided updo and she wore an embroidered royal blue robe and a matching pair of earrings. Her eyes were big and brown, and she looked at Brix like she was inspecting a particularly dubious avocado at the supermarket. In short, this woman was stylish, self-assured and pants-shittingly scary.

“Elminster tells me that you are in need of some assistance,” the woman said curtly.

“Correct. I struck a deal with Mr. Aumar that I would give him information about my home…planet, in exchange for any magical items that might be, which word am I looking for… available.”

“Oh, did you, now?” the lady asked, narrowing her eyes at an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Elminster. Brix took pity on the old man. He reminded her of her own wizard; long-winded but good-natured. The least she could do was defend him from a pending cross-examination.

“And he mentioned he had a friend who might also be interested, so I told him I would be more than happy to share it with you as well,” she said as politely as she could. Under the brim of his hat Elminster's eyes glowed with appreciation.

“Very well.” The woman looped her arm under Brix’s as if they were old friends. “You can start by telling me where that accent is from.” Brix wanted to protest – she did not have an accent, goddammit! But she didn’t get the chance to argue before her new friend had posed five different questions in about as many seconds. She was direct and sharp-witted, and carried herself like a queen of some unknown kingdom.

Brix told her new magical friends about her work, her language and the world she inhabited. And how she had been on her way back from work yesterday when a wizard had practically fallen out of the sky and taken her on a bizarre road trip across space and time. This confused the two greatly.

“But that's impossible! If he was casting a teleportation spell every other day, he'd be in terrible shape! Why, casting 'Gate' would age him at least five years, and that's if he got off lightly!” the woman said. “You tell that foolish wizard of yours to be more careful or he’ll land both of you in a whole heap of trouble!” 

Brix felt a cold fist grip her insides. When Gale had told her casting the spell would be dangerous, she hadn't realized it applied to his health . And what was this about him aging five years?!

“I have not heard of any mage casting that spell since the Era of Upheaval…” Elminster mused. “Though perhaps…” he didn’t finish his thought, but simply stroked his beard in contemplation.

“I’ll make sure he takes care of himself.” Brix said, both to reassure them as much as herself. “But speaking of wizards, Elminster tells me that magical items are pretty rare, but that you almost have too many. How did that happen?”

The woman shot Elminster a dirty look, as if accusing him of revealing dark family secrets to a stranger. Which, to be fair, it turned out that he had.

“Well, when we last spoke, I seem to recall your lamentation of an ever-growing mountain of miscellaneous magical gifts bestowed upon you by your well-meaning, though perhaps overenthusiastic son,” the old wizard said apologetically. At the mention of her son the woman sighed in exasperation.

“Ah yes, the prodigy of Blackstaff! He has been imbuing different items with the Weave and sending them to me regularly,” she explained to Brix. “The sweet boy, he says it’s to help me around the house while he’s away, but between you and I,” she said in an almost conspirative tone, “I think he just wants to show off how much he’s improved since leaving home.”

“Sounds like he wants to impress his mother,” Brix answered in the same tone.

“Yes of course he does, as he should, mind you! But after a third batch of amulets of Haste poor Tara barely has any space left to nest in. I swear to Oghma, I’d have thrown out half the trinkets he’s loaded onto me, but then he looks at me with those big brown eyes, and, oh you know how sensitive he is, Elminster,” the woman said in distress. The old man smiled back at her, patting her on the shoulder.

“He is a kind-hearted boy, my dear. If a tad… over-eager.”

“My cousin struggles with the same thing,” Brix chimed in. “And she found a … what's the word for kvik... clever solution.”

“Oh? Do tell!”

“Well, the drawings she uses as bookmarks. The bigger art projects get re-gifted to friends and family,” Brix leaned a little closer as if sharing an inside joke, “My favorite was the paper-mâché piggy bank she gave our grandmother last year. Let’s just say the reaction was… mixed.” The short woman's smile reached her brown eyes with a devious gleam. 

“And I suppose you would meet one of these projects with a mixed reaction, hm?”

“Not mixed at all!” Brix said cheekily. “I’d meet it with pure dishonest gratitude!” The woman laughed heartily and fumbled with a pouch she had on a belt underneath her robes.

“Well then, here you are, my dear.” She produced a simple necklace with a small yellow stone and pressed it into Brix’s hands with a wink. “The latest of my brilliant boy’s ‘projects’.” The necklace buzzed pleasantly beneath her fingers and Brix could feel the power woven into every part of the little pendant. Apparently Gale wasn't exaggerating.

“I cannot thank you enough, Ms…”

“Dekarios. Mrs. Morena Dekarios”

“Be sure you treasure that amulet well, young lady!” Elminster said proudly. “In the years ahead, scholars and seekers alike shall marvel at it, eager to behold the first amulet crafted by the brightest talent ever to emerge from Blackstaff Academy: ‘Gale Dekarios'!”

“Gale de What-?” Brix was about to ask several questions at once, most of them regarding naming conventions in Faerûn, when she spotted her Gale on the other side of a crowded street. She was just about to wave him over, but he simply shook his head and ducked into a nearby alley. The meaning was clear. For whatever reason, he did not want to meet these two.

“Well, Mr. Aumar, Mrs. Dekarios, once again, thank you so much for all your help. I hope we meet again next time I’m in town.” Brix, in a confused act of politeness, bowed to the two of them, before she darted into the alleyway after Gale. The conversation from earlier about his spell-casting still gnawed at her mind, but that would have to wait. Right now, all that mattered was to give him the amulet. 

“You okay?” she asked carefully when she finally caught up to him. He was leaning up against the wall, clutching his chest. 

"I’ll be fine,” he groaned. “I’m glad I found you. There’s not much time left - ”

“Yeah-yeah-yeah. Here, take this," said Brix and presented the magical necklace to him. He pressed it to his chest and Brix was almost touched by the display of reverent gratitude.

“Thank you!” he gasped in relief. That’s when the tattoo on Gale’s chest lit him up like a Christmas tree. 

The dark tendrils shone with an unnatural purple light that snaked its way all the way up to Gale’s left eye and glowed through his closed eyelid. It looked like he was being lit up from the inside out, like when you held up a flashlight to your fingertip and watched the skin go translucent. 

A deep thrum rang out from Gale’s chest and the hum of whatever magic had been buzzing in the necklace was gone. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light faded. In its place, Brix realized it had never been a tattoo, but a series of intricate scars and bruises. 

“Whew! That hit the spot!” he sighed in relief.

“JESUS TAPDANCING FUCK, DUDE!” Gale was ripped from his temporary relief and nearly tripped over his own feet at her outburst.

"I suppose that is an… appropriate reaction, given your unfamiliarity with the arcane. But you needn't be alarmed. That generous donation has just steered us off the path towards disaster."

"Wait, what do you mean disaster?" Brix asked. Gale hesitated.

"I think it's best if we don't stray down that particular pathway. Suffice to say, the consequences of leaving my condition unattended would not be contained to me alone. It could spell disaster for millions."

"Fine," Brix said. If he said he had it under control, then she might as well believe him. And if he didn't want to discuss it, then she might as well leave it. “So, do you know the two I was talking to?”

“Yes, in fact, I do. The man you met was Elminster Aumar, one of the most famed and respected wizards in the realms. The woman was the inimitable, dare I say unavoidable Morena Dekarios. Though I’m sure they already introduced themselves to you.”

“He didn't mention his reputation, but yeah.”

“Of course. Nothing to say about his manners, even going this far back.”

“What do you mean ‘this far back’?” she asked.

“Well… The circumstances of my acquaintance with those two are somewhat unusual, given the time of our arrival." He was suddenly very interested in a pebble on the ground, shuffling it to and fro with his foot. 

"It seems that not only did I overshoot our geographical and dimensional destination, but our… temporal one as well.” Brix frowned impatiently. “Right. No stalling. We are about 20 years in the past from where I started this whole misadventure. Elminster is, or rather will be, a dear friend to me in the future. Morena Dekarios as you may have figured out is my… is my mother.” 

Brix nearly pissed herself laughing. 

"Oh my Go-oood, that explains so much!" she cackled. "I can't believe you're Greek!"

“Yes, well… I usually tend to prioritize the classic wining and dining before introducing someone to her. But one can’t always be a gentleman, I suppose…” he muttered. 

--

They made their way through the narrow streets of Baldur’s Gate in the brilliant light of late afternoon until they reached the place where they had started from: the Waypoint Stone, as Gale called it. He talked for a long time about how it was easier for him to reconnect an existing portal, much easier than doing it from scratch, but Brix couldn't concentrate on all that. There was an odd sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite place or ignore, despite her best efforts. So she half-listened and tried to commit the strange sights and sounds to memory. If this all turned out to be a dream, at least she wanted it to be one she would remember.

“I will open the Gate, escort you back through it and return here in the wink of a beholder’s eye,” Gale concluded. His tone was light, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

“But what about the… you know?” Brix said and tapped her chest. A familiar look of exhaustion flitted across Gale’s face for a split second before he shrugged off.

“Baldur's Gate is home to many respectable wizards and healers. I'm sure at least one of them can be convinced to assist me with my condition,” he lied. “But that’s for me to worry about.”

The Waypoint Stone glowed and warped in tandem with Gale's slow and methodical movements, until it turned into a yawning green-blue tear in the wall. With a final groan of exertion, he ripped the tear open enough for the both of them to pass through.

"There! I hope this little venture has been educational, but I think it's high time we got you back to where you belong," he said. He held out his hand and Brix took it hesitantly.

Where I belong, huh? That's a laugh.

Notes:

End note: *Bugs Bunny voice* Ain't I a stinker?
Morena is such a strange character in the fandom. It seems that everyone has a different take on her (all valid, all amazing) and here is my humble contribution to the hivemind. By contrast, Elminster is nice and easy - just write a piece of dialogue, then go back and add as many words as linguistically possible, and BOOM. In-character Elminster.

Next chapter: We regret to inform you that Brix has lore.

Chapter 6: Stargazing in the Gutter

Summary:

In this chapter: We regret to inform you that Brix has lore.

Notes:

CW: Description of a panic attack, discussion of rumors of sexual assault

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!"

An unknown city towered around them. Dense, stocky-looking houses with red-brick facades leaned against buildings made of a strange mix of stone, bricks, glass and metal, similar to the ones he had seen from Brix’s apartment. The street looked like it was carved out of a single grey slab of stone and upon it rolled an endless tide of rumbling carriages with no horses. 

Between the crowd of people bustling past them spoke in a mix of Common and many other strange languages. No one seemed to notice Brix and Gale jumping out from the back of a building, as most of them stared at the odd little tablet she had shown him back in her home. The one with the Google. 

A familiar knot grew in the pit of Gale’s stomach. The tadpole was once again silenced, but he was cut off from the Weave and sent adrift. It felt like he was about to be swept out to sea and starting to drown, when Brix's voice cut through the raging torrent in his mind. Her usual laconic and unruffled demeanor had vanished. Instead she stood in front of him, looking petrified.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… Not here, not here, anywhere… just not here,” she rambled, eyes unseeing and fists pulling at her sleeves. “I-I-I… I can’t be here; I need to get out of here…” Her sudden panic caught Gale off guard. He tried to remember what she had said to calm him down, when he had first met her. What had she done when his connection to the Weave had vanished and he was left with nothing but a paralyzing dread.

“Easy there… Whatever is going on, you can rein it in.” His words came out sterner than he wanted, as if he was scolding a misbehaving cat. "I'll set this right. Let's first find a place to talk it all through to start with." She took deep shuddering breaths as if she was desperately trying to regain control of herself. She finally took out the little pack and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. 

“We'll need coffee,” she pronounced after the first inhalation of smoke. “Come on, I know a place.” What was so terrible about this place? It didn't seem particularly dangerous or violent. But something had happened to her here. Something she had escaped once before and was now thrown back into. Because of him. He had to correct this mistake. 

He searched frantically for any clue, any hint of something just vaguely similar to the Weave. No one stuck out as a wizard or warlock or any other kind of mage. Like Brix had warned him, there were only humans here. Almost everyone wore same sort of short coat and sturdy-looking trousers that Brix wore and almost all in either blue or black. It couldn't be a mandated uniform though, as most people wore brightly coloured scarves or knitted caps. But there were no billowing cloaks of wizards or sorcerers, no shining plate mail of soldiers or even so much as a patched-up doublet. He couldn't tell anything about their occupation, their rank or even their level of wealth!

A group of old women in veils wearing a simple ornament around their necks passed Gale and gave him a strange look. Clerics perhaps? A large stone building, much older than the surrounding houses, loomed to the left of them. A temple of some sort, judging by the spire and stained glass windows. If that was the case, this realm could very well have some sliver of religiously imbued magic. He wanted to stop and ask Brix about it, but she was already crossing the street. 

They entered a little tea shop where Brix found a corner with two large armchairs and a short-legged table. It must make dining very awkward, but perhaps that was the custom of this strange city, Gale surmised. Brix shuffled out of her jacket and stared blankly out of the window. She was not the most talkative person, but the silence over their little enclave was decidedly uncomfortable. 

“Are you alright?” Gale asked stupidly. 

“I will be," she said numbly. "I… I just, uhm, I never thought I'd be… here again.” He wanted to say something, anything, when a man’s voice cleaved through the uncomfortable silence.

“Brix? Oh my God, is that you?!” At the mention of her name, Brix looked like she wanted to dig out her own eyes with a rusty fork. A dark-haired young man in a stylish grey suit strode towards them, blithely unaware of Brix’s discomfort.

“Hi James,” she said.  

“You look good!” he cooed. “I heard about the case finally ending. You must be relieved, huh?"

“Uh-huh. Gale, this is James, James, Gale.”

“ Doctor James Bates,” he said with a smirk as he shook Gale's hand limply. "Just got back from a conference in Lisbon." He turned back to Brix, who looked like she was trying to dissolve into the chair. “Good to hear you still have your accent intact! How long are you here for? Last I heard you'd moved back home to the Netherlands!”

“I’m still not Dutch,” she answered tightly. “And we're just here on holiday.”

“And you chose here? Well, the scene of the crime and all that... or maybe it’s more like the hair of the dog? I’m just joking…” Something about the younger man’s behavior grated on Gale. Everything he said oozed with insincerity.

“Pardon my interruption of this heartfelt reunion, but we are currently engaged in conversation. Private conversation,” Gale said with icy civility.

“Oh look, there’s my order. Lovely seeing you again Brix, we’ll catch up soon, okay? Enjoy your… date.”

"Bye James." Once he was out of earshot she crossed her eyes and started mimicking him: “OoOh YoU lOoK gOoD! Just tell me I look like something a hippo shat out and fuck off…”

“Well, I may be unfamiliar with a hippo, but I promise you don’t look as bad as all that. I'd say you look more like something a bulette rolled over. And that’s if I’m being exceptionally mean-spirited.”

“Ha! Fuck you.” Brix responded with a short bark of laughter. She reached to grab her mug of coffee and Gale noticed the subtle tremor in her hands had returned.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No, no it was a good joke –”

“I meant about bringing you here,” he interrupted. “I… I'm usually much better at this. At magic, that is. And yet I've managed to make one mistake after the other, for which you are now paying the price. But I swear to you, I will do everything I can to get you home.”

"I know," she said with a weak smile. "And… I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Your faith is most encouraging. But even I know that words don't always suffice. So, here," he said and presented the necklace to her. Brix frowned at the offering and for a moment Gale was afraid he had been too forward. Was the act of gift-giving a taboo in her culture?

"Don't you need this? For your illness?"

"It doesn't have any magical properties," he said. "No, this is simply a token of my appreciation for your patience with me. And for your help back in Baldur's Gate."

She reached out to receive it, and for a moment her slender fingers brushed over his. Apart from that one instance back in her apartment, this may have been the first time he had felt the touch of another person in well over a year. The time he had spent with Mystra, even at their most intimate, had always been incorporeal. The sensations in the Astral Plane were all-embracing, sometimes even overwhelming in its totality, yet this fleeting touch was enough to make his stomach flip.

"Thank you, Gale," she said as she put it on and tucked it under her collar. "It's… it's really nice." 

Gale racked his brain for anything to do or say. She was counting on him, dammit. He went through the information he had about this strange magic-less plane of existence. Although, maybe it wasn't completely without magic… He remembered the temple and the group of women he had spotted on the street. Gale's control of the Weave was not pulled from some zealous faith or blessing from his goddess (rather the opposite in fact, he noted bitterly). But he did have a passing knowledge of the divinely inspired magic of clerics and paladins. Could that be a solution? 

“I have an idea,” he finally said. “We already know that the Weave can be channeled in this plane, though with a significant delay. But what if it just needs a more direct channel? An anchor, so to speak, an artefact that I could siphon the Weave through? If we can find such an item, either with a divine or ritualistic purpose, I can put this theory to the test." 

"Didn't take you for a religious type," she said. There was something almost disdainful in the way she said it. "As far as I know, there's no such thing as magic amulets or anything. But… There are objects that people believe have magical properties. Maybe that would be magic… what’s the word I’m looking for… adjacent?"

“And would you happen to know where one could find such objects nearby?” he asked carefully. 

“Well, I’m not taking you to church, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said bluntly. Once again the very notion of divinity made her scrunch up her nose in a sceptical grimace. But then the barest hint of a smile danced at the corner of her mouth. “But there's a museum I used to… visit.” 

Gale knocked back his cup of tea and almost toppled the little table in his eagerness to get going.

--

The city was called Dublin. Brix explained that it belonged to the same realm as the one she was from, but a different country. Gale was eager to learn as he could about their new surroundings. Any tiny detail might be crucial at the right moment. From what he had seen so far, it seemed like this realm was steeped in eternal rain, sleet or snow-fall. It wasn't as bitingly cold as his first venture into this strange stony realm, but he still shivered in his robes. He wondered if Baldur's Gate had been the first time she had ever seen a sky that wasn't milky grey or strung with oppressively heavy clouds. 

"Is the climate of this realm always so overcast and chilly?" he asked.

"No. We're just pretty far north. And it's winter," Brix explained. "Why? You cold?" 

"Not at all!" His body betrayed him with a demonstrative shiver. 

She stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Gale almost bumped into her. Without a word she shuffled out of her big green jacket and moved to wrap it over Gale's shoulders.  

"What - what are you doing?!" he sputtered and took a shocked step back. Brix's expression was unreadable as she held the jacket towards him. 

"You're cold. And you stick out too much in your… dress."

"It's a robe!" Gale admonished. "And there's no reason for you to expose yourself to the elements like this! At this point I'm sure I can conjure a simple heating cantrip-"

"Nope! Absolutely not!" Brix interrupted. She closed the distance between them and whispered to him: "Look, if people here find out that you can do… magic… shit could get really dangerous." She said it with such urgency that Gale had no option but to believe her. 

"Very well. No magic. But I insist that you keep your coat on for yourself. It's not right that you should sacrifice what little warmth you have in order to keep me comfortable."

"Fine!" 

They wandered through the town and Gale took in all the sights he could, ignoring the stares of people they passed. It was difficult not to be overwhelmed by all the unfamiliar sights and sounds. Ignoring the sounds especially proved difficult. There was a constant low rumble of engines that would not let up, and once or twice a high pitched wail sent his heart flying up his throat. Brix reassured him by telling him it was only an ambulance, as if that would explain anything. It wasn't all unpleasant though. Gale stopped up to marvel at a group of young bards that were playing a series of unknown instruments. They were also dressed peculiarly similar to Brix, he noted. 

They arrived at a stately round building of white stone. With its grand columns and domed roof it stuck out from the rest of the squared-off architecture. Brix strode through the main entrance, passing a long queue of disapproving guests, and led Gale to a small corner office. A stout old man was reading a newspaper behind a heavy-looking desk.

“Hey, Diarmuid!” she called out. 

“Ms. Brix, Good Lord, is that yourself?! It’s been a dog’s age!” he said heartily. 

“Haha, yeah it’s… it’s been a hectic few years,” she said. “How much have you heard?”

“Ah sure, you know me, I wouldn’t be listenin’ to gossip now, would I? But Mother o’ God girl, what on earth happened to your nose?! Looks like you got into a fight with a brick wall!”

“I listened to gossip,” Brix said.

“Ha! Always the jokester, you,” Diarmuid laughed. “Who’s yer man, there? He one of them new-fangled cross-players I keep hearing about?” At this Gale noticed Brix was doing her best to keep herself from bursting into fits of laughter.

“Oh no, no - Gale is studying… medieval fashion,” she lied through her teeth. “And the best way to research the clothing is to wear it! Something about testing the… uh…”

“…Testing the durability of the fabric. The most rigorous method to test the quality of the textile is also the simplest, by simply wearing it in different situations of daily life, in fact. Such as… sightseeing?” Gale finished for her. 

"Yep. Occam's raisin and all that," she added. 

Diarmuid eyed the two of them suspiciously. It reminded Gale of all the times he had spent in the Blackstaff’s office after some new spark of inspiration had backfired.

“Ah right so… And I suppose ye didn’t just pop down to old Diarmuid for a bit of a chinwag, did ya then, Ms. Brix?”

“I’m offended at how well you know me!” Brix replied with a shameless smile. “I promised Gale that I would help him with his thesis by getting a… close look at the items you have on display.”

“Absolutely not! Are you after getting me fired, girl? Mother ‘o God, I should call the Garda on you for even suggesting it!”

“Oh come on, I left the crosier of Saint Finbarr spotless last time!” she protested. Diarmuid gave a disapproving snort.

“I s’pose…”

“And Gale is ten times more careful with his fieldwork!” she continued and patted Gale on the shoulder like he was a prize pony at an auction. 

“Mr. Diarmuid, I promise, I only need to examine the details of the artefacts. There won’t be so much as a string out of place after we’re done, I can guarantee it,” he added with artificial confidence. 

Brix gave him an encouraging smile. Diarmuid, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes and didn’t say a word. That’s when Brix went in for the kill.

“Anyway, how’s Margaret these days? Have you shown her around yet? Or do you still need to… clear out the drawers?” The color drained from the old man’s face.

“Christ Almighty, you waste no time, do you? Not even five bleedin’ minutes in the door and you’re already after bullying your favorite blackmail victim. The nerve on you, Ms. Brix!” he cried, but couldn’t stifle a mischievous grin. “Come on, so. The next tour isn’t set for another hour no one’ll be botherin’ the two of ye.”

“I’ve missed you too, Diarmuid.”

“Oh, come off it!” the old man said, but blushed furiously. 

He led them up a winding staircase and down a labyrinth of corridors to a dark room lined with glass cases. Diarmuid pulled out an overstuffed keychain and tossed it to Brix. “Right so, I’ll leave ye to… whatever it is yer up to. Oh, and don’t be worryin’ about the cameras. They were due for a ‘system update’ anyway,” he said slyly. Once Diarmuid had left the room, Gale turned to Brix, who was browsing the cases for some specific item. He couldn’t deny his feelings anymore – he was thoroughly impressed.

“Tell me, do you always use such underhanded charms to get your way? Or is that reserved for the staff?” Brix snapped her head with the speed and ferocity of a bullwhip.

“No. Usually, I just FUCK my way into getting it!” She might as well have slapped him across the face.

“How dare… I’d have hoped you thought better of me than to assume I’d make such a vulgar accusation!” he spluttered.

“Better men have called me worse!” she said bitterly and fiddled with the keys. She was crouching over a glass case containing a little gold model of a boat, still looking for the right key to the little lock underneath the case. Even in her sudden fury, she was still so insistent on helping him. And he had just blundered into implying that she…

“I never meant…” Gale took a deep breath. “I just wanted to express my appreciation of your persuasive talents. You negotiated with that portly gentleman with all the elegance of a diplomat. Though I admit, the phrasing could have been better.” 

“Hmf. Now who’s using ‘underhanded charms’?” she said. Then after a short pause she explained. “Diarmuid uses the shelving units here for his dirty magazines from his boss and his wife. I helped him make a fake bottom for the drawers to hide them. In return, he gave me special access to some items I needed for an exam.” 

Gale admired a bit of trickery in the pursuit of academic results as much as the next wizard, but something about Brix’s reaction still gnawed at him.

“Yet I take it you’re no stranger to… false accusations?” 

“Not accusations… not directly," she admitted. "But there were… rumors. Rumors I didn’t have the resources or, uhm… the energy to disprove.” She finally found the right key and the little case clicked open. 

“Gale…would you… I mean, can I ask you… I-I don’t want to talk about my time here. It… it brings up a lot of bad memories.”

“Of course.” How could he say anything else? With his own record it would be the height of hypocrisy to drag any kind of information out of her. “I understand completely.”

“Thank you,” she said and the relief in her voice was clear as crystal. “Anyway, did it work?” 

Gale flexed his fingers over the little boat. Like a dowsing rod, he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn towards any single thread of the Weave. There was definitely a trace of… something. Usually, the Weave felt solid and supple, like embroidery threads waiting for him to work them into some new tapestry of magic. 

This was different. It was not like the Shar's tainted Shadow Weave, or Mystra’s divine embrace. This was something ancient and frighteningly sacred. Whatever this was, it was locked away in a chest of ancient rituals and forgotten scripture. All Gale could feel were faint traces of magic, like cobwebs hanging off dead branches. The lightest touch ripped them apart and sent them floating off into the ether. 

“I’m afraid not," he said. Brix cursed in her own language. 

She led the way to a large hall. In pristine glass cases there were objects of every kind: swords that had been eaten away by the ravages of time, gorgeously detailed brooches of gold and bronze and everything in between. Once again, Gale could feel the traces of magic emanating off one of them; a heavy iron longsword with delicate patterns engraved on the hilt. But as with the boat, the magic was sealed behind an impenetrable wall of another unknowable deity. 

The frustration was getting to him. A knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and for every failed attempt it tightened. It was one thing to be stuck passively waiting for the Weave to reach him. It was entirely different to feel it just beyond his grasp. He had never had to struggle with harnessing the Weave, why was this so different? Why was he stuck fumbling around like a bloody novice?  

Brix however, was unwavering. They must have gone through every installation, from the mundane to the mystifying, but to no avail. It was unbearable. The knot in the pit of Gale's stomach tightened and finally, he decided to put an end to their excursion.

“Brix, we're both exhausted. I think you should redirect your efforts to finding a hot meal and a soft bed. I'll stay here and... look for alternatives." Brix looked at him incredulously then scoffed.

“I'm staying," she said bluntly. "Sticking with you is the only choice I have!” 

Notes:

Something I really enjoyed exploring in this chapter is how Gale would react to being confronted with a problem that could not be fixed by his usual mastery of magic. What happens when Mr. Intelligence-Is-My-Main-Stat doesn't know what the hell he is looking at?  ¯\_(⊙﹏⊙)_/¯

Also, the items mentioned in this chapter are based on two real archaeological finds - the Broighter Boat and the Ballinderry Sword. You can read more about them on https://100objects.ie/
And if you have the chance, I really recommend visiting Dublin, just don't harass any museum staff.

Next chapter: Brix and Gale have dinner.

Chapter 7: All The Comrades 'Ere I Had

Summary:

In this chapter: Brix and Gale have dinner.

Notes:

CW: Description of a panic attack up top (the first bit in italics)

For fuck’s sake, calm down! Dublin’s a big place, the chance of running into one person is practically zero!

But what if it isn’t?

It’s conference season. He is probably abroad as usual.

But what if he isn’t?

Stop it, he’s not here.

But what if he is?

Then… Then what?

You’ll be arrested. You’ll be sent back in handcuffs. You’ll be fired. You’ll be forced to move back in with Mom. Worse, you’ll be humiliated. Worse, you’ll be humiliated in front of Gale. Worse, you’ll be humiliated in front of Gale, and he’ll hate you. He’ll hate you because you lied. Because you’re a drop-out. Because you’re a failure. Because you’re a useless–

“Brix,” Gale’s voice interrupted the mental maelstrom that was pulling Brix under. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands and looked at him with what she hoped to God was a neutral expression.

“Whattup?”

“Isn’t this one of the signs you told me to look out for?” he said and pointed to a flickering neon sign.

“Close enough. It’s a youth hostel.”

“Youth Hostel? Are you quite sure we meet the requirements?” Brix stopped up at the entrance to the hostel. Now there was something she hadn't given any consideration until now. 

“Wait, how old are you? And exactly how old do you think I am?” Gale, in an act of infinite wisdom, ignored her and entered the dingy little hostel. Behind the counter was a surly-looking lady, typing something on a relic of a computer, one finger at a time.

“Have ye a reservation?” she said in a thick Cork accent.

“No, madam. Do you have a room for an evening?” The lady looked up and stared at Brix and Gale’s hands.

“Just the two of ye, is it? Well, the private rooms are for married couples only. This is a good Christian house, I’ll have ye know.”

“We’re married!” Gale blurted out.

"Yep. We're just getting our rings… refitted." 

“Oh, is that right? And have ye the marriage certificate to back it up, now?”

“No?” Brix was getting increasingly flustered by the pushy old bat. How in the seventh spit-shined circle of Hell was that any of her business? Did she look like a sex worker? Good grief, did he?

“Tell ya what, I’m nothing if not a generous and God-fearing woman. So, I’ll put ye in the room with twin beds. And don’t even THINK about pulling them together! I’ll hear it if ye do and that's an instant ban, so it is!” Brix thanked her curtly and paid by card. The shrill beep of the card reader marked the end of any more questioning as she and Gale made their way up the dingy stairwell.

The room was clean. That was the extent of the nice things Brix had to say about it. The two narrow beds sat several feet apart: one was lined up behind the door, and one was lined up against the window. The view from the window consisted of the brick wall of the building next to them. Not that it mattered, since the window couldn’t open anyway. It was blocked by a rusty drainpipe. In the corner there was a crooked wardrobe and a full length mirror. The only decoration in the room was a gaudy-looking crucifix between the two beds. Brix had half a mind to turn it upside down just to be petty. But poor Jesus didn't deserve that. It wasn't his fault he was stuck here.

“It’s… well, it’s no Jade Jug, but I suppose this place has a certain level of… homeliness. At least for our meager intents and purposes.” Gale said out of the blue. 

Brix could have crawled into a hole and died of embarrassment. Breaking down in the middle of the street, meeting James, all the dead-ends in the museum and now this lousy excuse for lodging: it had all been one disaster after the other. At least Gale had set them up somewhere nice in Baldur’s Gate. Somewhere with a private bath. And now he was trying to cheer her up!?

“Fuck me…” she groaned. “Gale, I am so sorry.”

“Whatever do you have to apologize for?”

“This!” she gestured wildly, both at herself and the room around them. “I’ve been so caught up in my own bullshit and we still haven’t found a way to get your magic back!” She caught herself before she could go off the rails completely. “I, I can… uh… I can make it up to you. We'll each take a shower and then I’ll take you to dinner. I-is, is… is that ok?”

The wizard didn’t say anything. Ahhh shit - I've completely screwed up now, haven't I? I wouldn't blame him if he'd rather go crosscountry mountain biking with his accountant than be dragged around town by a stammering, sadsack shitshow... The hurricane in her head was once again cut off by Gale.

“Please don’t blame yourself for not fixing my mistakes,” he said in a low voice. “You don’t have to burden yourself with unpleasant memories just to entertain me. I am perfectly happy just to call it a night and get an early start tomorrow.”

As if on cue, a loud gurgle belted from his stomach. Without thinking Brix clapped both hands over her mouth - she was pretty sure the wizard would implode if she so much as cracked a smile right now. Gale stood still with a mortified look plastered on his face, until he burst out laughing. When they had both calmed down from their fit of giggles Brix tried again. This time more insistent.

“I’m taking you to dinner. End of.”

--

There was no shampoo or soap in the communal showers, but the lukewarm water still washed the day's fiascos and freakouts away. The water pressure was a drizzle, but it was still a welcome refuge from her own head. As she fiddled with the little purple stone on the end of Gale's gift her sense of shame ran down the drain. And she began picturing him in the men's shower. 

She shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. Why deny herself in this one private moment of pleasure in this shit-heap? She imagined how his hair would darken from being soaked, how the water would run down his neck, his back, his ass… she didn't even notice how her fingers wandered down between her legs. Sure enough, she was already drenched with the slick of her own arousal. 

She parted her folds, savouring the feeling mixed with visions of the wizard. What he didn’t know wouldn't hurt him, right? How she lusted after every part of him from his broad chest, his beard, his long fingers, oh good God in a greenhouse, what couldn't he do with those fingers… she plunged her own into the depths of her cunt and sighed deeply. 

He didn't need to know how the sound of his voice turned her on so hard that she was jacking off to him in the shower. He certainly didn't need to know how his sweet demeanor made her want to ruin him a thousand different ways. 

Oh, and how she could ruin him… 

She had never let some historical hangups about sex and shame stop her from finding a distraction wherever she could. Visions of past places, partners, and positions danced across her mind as she pumped her fingers slowly in and out of herself. But whoever she had been with at the time didn't register - they all melted into the same face with deep set eyes, a neatly trimmed beard and beaming smile. At the thought of how her name would sound when he moaned it, the orgasm hit Brix like a bolt of lightning. With her knees shaking, she finished up her shower, satisfied that she'd gotten whatever the hell that was out of her system. 

When she re-entered the room Gale was looking at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a strange set of a purple shirt and trousers. Without his robe Brix could properly take in his form. Broader than expected, his chest was barrel-shaped and she imagined his body covered with fine brown hair, that she longed to run her fingers through. From what she could tell, his legs were quite shapely under the trouser legs, but the shirt covered his ass, much to her frustration. Even so, he was to a disastrous degree, just her type.

“… some more appropriate clothing. What do you think?” he said while running the towel through his still wet hair.

“Huh?”

“I was just saying that my grip on the Weave seems more tangible now. Perhaps it would be a good time to turn to more appropriate apparel? I’m afraid I must agree with you – I stick out like a sore thumb in my daily robes.”

“You can make your own clothes?”

“Goodness, no! I’m just talking about a simple glamour spell. Shouldn’t take too much effort…” he said, scratching his beard. “However, despite your persuasive talents, I am not in fact a student of fashion in any sense of the word! So… uh. What do you think I should wear?”

NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! 

“Uh… You’re asking the wrong person,” she answered awkwardly. “Hm… I hate to admit it, but the suit James was wearing was uhm… par for the course? Isn’t that the saying?”

“Hm… Far be it from me to give any credit to such an unsavory character. But then again, it’s either that or Diarmuid’s stained overcoat, so…” with a snap of his fingers Gale was suddenly dressed in a cleanly tailored suit of dark purple fabric. Underneath he wore a neat white button-up, which barely concealed the mark on his chest. 

“How do I look?” he asked. His face broke into a crooked smile that was dangerously close to being downright flirty. If this man does not shut up, I swear to all that is unholy, I will jump his bones like a boozer on a barrel full of barleywine!

“God – I mean good!” she said. “But you didn’t need me to tell you that.”

“Nothing wrong in gathering consensus,” he said cheekily. He reminded Brix of a peacock. She would have told him as much, if she hadn’t completely forgotten the word in English.

--

If there were two things that Brix could appreciate about being back in Ireland of all places, it was the pub-food and the kiosks. Gale scolded her on their way to dinner, claiming that she couldn’t possibly taste anything after smoking. 

“Hey, I only smoke in emergencies.” She tucked her new pack into her inner pocket and lit the last one from her previous pack.

“Dare I ask how much you used to smoke?”

“Haha, nope.”

The hostel was within walking distance of her old haunt where she had spent many evenings and way too much of her scholarship stipend. An Méaracán was a cheap-ish pub that catered mainly to students and the odd trad-band every now and again. As soon as Brix opened the door they were greeted by a cacophony of tin whistles, guitars and hand drums. Huh, looks like my luck is turning after all. Brix led him by the hand to the bar, just far enough away from the musicians so they could hear themselves think.

“You drink beer?” she asked.

“On occasion. Though I do have a weakness for a good glass of wine...”

“Good, then you should try Guinness,” she interrupted. “Pretty sure we’ll be deported if you don’t…”

“Gods above, do you really think so?”

“It was a joke, Gale.” 

She ordered a glass of water for herself, a Guinness for Gale and a mixed platter to share. Her wallet would thank her later, at least if the card didn’t decline. 

Ah shit, what if the bank’s already blocked it because it appeared in Ireland out of the blue? Son of a bitch, I won't be able to withdraw cash at the ATM and I can’t call up the bank because my goddamned phone is back at the apartment and I can't even… *beep*

“I must learn how that works,” Gale murmured, half to her, half to himself. They received their drinks almost immediately and were both spellbound by gorgeous creamy foam topping the stout. Gale took a careful sip and Brix had to resist wiping the white foam off his upper lip.

“ Nå ,” she said after taking a drink of water. “How does this compare to Waterkeep?”

“Water deep, ” Gale corrected her. “And I’m finding it very enjoyable, thank you. The beer, the atmosphere, the music… It's surprisingly reminiscent of the Yawning Portal, even considering the planar differences. Of course, the patrons of an establishment like that tend to lean towards more… dramatic persuasions.”

“Oh, I’m not dramatic enough?”

“Hah! You are many things, but ‘dramatic’ is certainly not one of them!” Brix let out a snort and felt a blush spilling over her face like a wine stain. 

"Well, don't leave me hanging. What's the Yawning Portal like?" she egged him on. Gale regarded her for a moment with a curious expression. He looked like he was trying to read a confusingly-worded paragraph in his third language. Brix shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt vulnerable being observed like this. It made her mind fill in the blanks with all the worst assumptions, and she wished that Gale would just start talking again. The subject didn't matter as long as it wasn't about her, dammit! 

He seemed to get the hint after what felt like at least half an hour. Though it was more likely half a minute. 

“I can illustrate with an anecdote," he mercifully carried on with his description and Brix could breathe easy again. "I once witnessed a particularly tense standoff between a drow, a dragonborn, and a cleric of Cyric – ”

“I’ll pretend I know what those words mean.”

“Ah, yes… Well that's not essential to the story. All you need to know is that tempers flared and suddenly - out came the crossbow! Wait - do you know  what a crossbow is?" Brix nodded with a smile and Gale continued. “A hush fell over the entire room, until I stood up and called out ‘Shadowdark ale for everyone!’ The crowd cheered, the tension drained into five dozen tankards, and soon all was well again.”

“Sure, and then the whole bus clapped.” Brix couldn’t help herself. Her instincts had been right - he was incredibly fun to tease. 

He was about to start another story when their food arrived: Spicy chicken wings, onion rings, garlic bread with cheese and french fries. Gale eyed the food suspiciously as if he was trying to decipher what exactly he was looking at. Brix presented each item of food and what she could remember of how it was cooked. She felt her stomach drop when she got to the chicken - should she have asked him if he had any cultural objections to any of the ingredients? Did the Faerûn-ese have their own version of halal? Or kosher? Oh fuck, what's the difference between the two?! The Faerûnian in question, however, seemed more flustered by the lack of cutlery. 

Brix didn't bother explaining that part. Instead she grabbed a chicken wing and chomped down. Gale's brow shot up disapprovingly, but he finally followed suit. At the first bite his cheeks burned red, his eyes widened, and he immediately gulped down a healthy portion of his beer.

“Oof! That packs quite the punch, doesn’t it?” he spluttered. Brix felt like she was fighting for her life against the spice and simply nodded through brimming tears. 

There is a word that roughly translates to 'Food Calm' or the silence between people who are totally engrossed in enjoying their food. And in silencing the biggest chatterbox Brix had ever met, the description fit like a glove. They were fighting over the last onion ring, when a clear voice rang through the pub. 

“Right ladies and gentlemen, now for your pleasure and ours, I give you ‘the Rattlin’ Bog’!” The pub exploded into whoops and whistles. Brix groaned loudly, but followed the compulsion to join in. As it always goes with that song, the verses grew quicker and quicker until the song became one long tongue-twister. Usually, she would settle for humming along after the third verse or so. However, Gale proved to be an annoyingly quick learner. And Brix would be damned if this upstart archmage thought he could out-sesh her. As the verses got longer, faster and harder, Brix locked eyes with her competitor, determined not to slip up on a single syllable.

“You may be able to talk both legs off the Devil himself, but no one can beat me in Irish drinking songs!” she said with her eyes.

“Do not underestimate my competitive streak,” he seemed to reply.

“And on that feather, there was a flea,
a rare flea,
a rattlin' flea

The-flea-on-the-feather-and-the-feather-on-the-wing-and-the-wing-on-the-chick-and-the-chick-in-the-yolk-and-the-yolk-in-the-egg-and-the-egg-in-the-bird-and-the-bird-in-the-nest-and-the-nest-on-the-leaf-and-the-leaf-on-the-twig-and-the-twig-on-the-branch-and-the-branch-on-the-limb-and-the-limb-on-the-bough-and-the-bough-on-the-tree-and-the-tree-in-the-hole-and-the-hole-in-the-bog-and-the-bog-down-in-the-valley-o

OH-RO, THE RATTLIN' BOG, AND THE BOG DOWN IN THE VALLEY-O,
RARE BOG, AND A RATTLIN' BOG, AND THE BOG DOWN IN THE VALLEY-O!”

By the end both Gale and Brix were laughing through pants and wheezes.”

The band packed up after an unexpectedly stirring rendition of ‘The Parting Glass’. Brix was surprised that she still remembered all the words. Unfortunately, her singing voice was still as rough as she remembered. She considered apologizing to Gale for making a fool of herself, but he excused himself to the restroom before she had a chance. 

Well done Duchess Dumbass. You’ve once again managed to alienate the one person who put up with your cringe… Nope. Not going down that route. This has been a nice evening and we're not about to ruin that now. She ripped up a paper coaster into tiny bits to distract herself.

“Shall we call it a night?” Gale seemingly appeared out of nowhere and held his arm out for her in his overly formal manner. She brushed the paper off the table and took his arm gratefully.

--

They took a detour through the city, avoiding the droves of drunken youths that wobbled to and fro on the streets. A cold wind blew across the street and Brix found herself gripping Gale's arm a bit tighter. Hopefully he didn't mind. It was a strange feeling to be back in a place that she had once loved and then grown to hate. For about a year or so the very word 'Dublin' would make her face flash into a scowl, like a nervous tic. But walking down streets she was sure she'd never see again, with a man she wasn't entirely sure was real, felt surprisingly easy.

When they got back to the hostel, the old receptionist greeted them with a frown, a nod and a silence that could freeze over the sea. Brix ignored her and continued trying to explain to Gale how combustion engines worked. 

When they got back to the tiny room, Brix excused herself to brush her teeth. She was thankful that the kiosk sold toothbrushes and a little travel kit. At least she wouldn't wake up with rancid morning breath two days in a row. Shame they didn't include facial wipes, but oh well. This nose hasn't run off my face yet - I doubt a bit of grime will make it much worse. When she got back to her room Gale was back in his strange soft-looking pajamas. He had sat on the bed closest to the door and was thumbing through a book. A Bible, Brix noted.

"This is certainly a cryptic read… I cannot tell if it is a history, a drama or some kind of esoteric genealogy," he muttered before turning to Brix. "What do you make of this book?"

"Uhh… I can't really answer that question. Religion is not my uhm… strong suit," she said awkwardly. Questions of religion had always made her uncomfortable, to the point that she had almost bailed on her cousin's baptism just to avoid going to church. 

"A religious text… I should have guessed. That would explain the emphasis on ritual and the foreign symbolism," Gale said. Brix decided to cut him off before he could ask anything else. 

"I'm going to sleep," she exaggerated a yawn and took off her sweater. 

"Oh, I didn't mean to be so inconsiderate. I know it's been an arduous excursion at best…" Gale rambled and hurried to stow the book away. "Reading late into the night has always been a terrible habit of mine-"

"Your reading won't bother me," she said quickly. "But could I get you to turn on the night light?" 

"The… what?" They went back and forth for a while, until she finally gave up trying to explain. Instead she marched over to his bed and leaned over him to switch on the little wall-sconce. She didn’t give it a second thought before two things happened almost at once. 

First, Gale made a surprised noise at the sudden proximity. Secondly, an angry banging from under the floor made it clear that their nosy hostess had heard them. Brix didn't take the withered old pine-cone's threats of kicking them out lightly. So before she even had time to ask Gale if he'd like so much as a goodnight kiss, she stomped over to the main light. 

" Irish hospitality, my ass. Had this been that one hostel in Berlin they'd have set us up with a pack of condoms, a litre of lube, and wished me bon voyage. " she grumbled as she turned off the light and stomped as loudly as she could to her own bed.

"Judging by your tone, I'm guessing that doesn't translate to 'goodnight', then?" Gale asked. He looked ethereal in the glow of the nightlight. It lit up his features and set his hair aglow. If not for his devilishly cheeky grin, Brix wouldn't have hesitated to call the sight downright angelic.  

"It's not," she replied with a softness that surprised her. "Where I'm from we say sov godt. " 

Gale tried repeating it, but the vowel sounds escaped him. Instead it ended up sounding more like Sew God and Brix was too exhausted to correct him further. She bundled up her sweater to use as an extra pillow, before she said a final goodnight to her unexpected roomie and turned to face the wall. A question formed and died on her lips as the crackle of turned pages and Gale's occasional muttering lulled her to sleep.

Notes:

A bit of fluff/spice before the thot plickens again. Remember how everyone went crazy for sea-shanties during the pandemic? Yeah, Irish folk songs mops the floor with them!
Also, out of curiosity - has anyone reading ventured a guess to Brix's nationality yet?

Next Chapter: Someone's had a growth spurt...

Chapter 8: Hell is Other People

Summary:

In this chapter: Gale says goodbye to Dublin and Brix says good riddance! Also, someone had a growth spurt since last we saw her…

Gale could make neither heads nor tails of the book. There was a problem that buzzed about his head like a mosquito and distracted him from reading anyway. He placed the book on the nightstand and tried to sleep, but the mosquito kept buzzing.

He had overindulged himself. He had dived headfirst into the delights of new discoveries. He had let himself get swept up in the enjoyment of being around people again. And he had gotten too fond of his new companion's company.

Their visit to the pub had been the first time Gale had been out to eat since his disastrous quest. He could still taste the stout on his tongue and hear Brix's soft singing in his head. Her voice had almost made him burst into tears and he had to excuse himself to avoid embarrassing them both.

All this had led him to ignore the glaringly obvious: the only reason she was at his side was because she had no other choice. The fact that she was kind enough to pretend otherwise only hurt more. If she had any other options, who was to say she wouldn’t jump ship the moment a better opportunity showed itself? And could he blame her if she did?

It didn't matter. After tomorrow, he would send her home and continue on the task he had originally set out to do. Find a remote place to detonate the orb and be at peace. No more hunger, no more pain, no more regrets. Well, almost no regrets.

--

He woke up early after another nightmare. In it he had seen visions of Mystra turning her back to him and heard the distinct sound of someone crying far away. He checked to make sure Brix was still asleep.

She had loosened her hair from her usual half-bun and the unruly curls covered her face. Her long, wiry limbs jutted out of the bed and he was surprised to see that her upper arm was covered in tattoos. As soon as he caught himself staring he hurried to look away again. Honestly Gale, you were raised better than ogling like that! He shuffled out of bed and started to change into his robes as quietly as possible. But when he pulled off his shirt he somehow managed to trip over his own boots.

“ACK!”

“You okay?” Brix cried out and almost fell out of bed as well.

“Oh yes, perfectly peachy,” he groaned. She held out a hand and when Gale took it, she yanked him up to his feet with a surprising strength. What had she said her work was again?

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

"Quite well, thank you." He buttoned up his shirt and did his best to avoid eye contact. "It’s been years since I last slept with anyone else, so that took some getting used to, but once the… why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize you were so… pent up!” Brix snorted. Gale could feel his entire face going bright pink. Between the mortifying slip of the tongue and the bashfulness of changing in front of someone, Gale wouldn't be surprised if the orb simply detonated then and there. Mercifully though, Brix didn't rib on further, instead asking: “How’s your chest?” 

“Blessedly silent so far. And the Weave is steadily returning. If the current rate is anything to go by, I should be ready to take you back by this afternoon, if not sooner." He had to interrupt himself, as he noticed Brix was staring at him with a vacant look on her face. "Hang on, are you even listening?" She straightened herself up in a flash. 

“Yes, uh, Weave our way… later this afternoon. Sounds good!" she said and cleared her throat. "Because I want to show you around town. Properly this time.”

--

Brix moved through the streets with a sort of detached familiarity, while Gale was constantly sidetracked. He found himself stopping up at every crooked lamppost or splash of graffiti. Everything about the city was so entrancing that he let himself forget everything else for a while. If it was all to come to an end soon, why shouldn't he enjoy the time left? The orb and the tadpole might as well have been a couple of research notes that he had stashed in a forgotten drawer for the time being. Especially when compared to the phenomenon known as a tram. And Brix was as gracious a guide as he could have asked for. She pointed out things he would have missed and answered his myriad of questions as best she could. When they stopped at a pathway paved with stone slabs, she crouched beside a plaque and gestured to a set of tiny bronze casts embedded in the stone.

“These are replicas of archaeological finds they made here." She pointed at the bronze arrowheads, dagger hilts and other forgotten relics. "They're from what's known as the Viking Age - roughly 1200 years ago, give or take."

“It’s like looking at the very bones of the city,” Gale said in quiet awe, running his fingers over an ancient comb. Conversation dove from one rabbit hole to the next, as they discussed everything from technology to tribes, from modern plagues to ancient politics. And the more Brix spoke, the more Gale realized how rarely she must get to share it. 

"For all our mishaps and misadventures, I have to confess I am thoroughly enjoying this excursion," he told her as they strolled down a crowded street. "There are few things as marvelous as discovering something new."

"I know what you mean," said Brix with a gleam in her eye. "I love the excitement of not knowing what's around the next corner. It's wonderful!" 

"Especially with company to match." Gale's stomach dropped as he realized he had said it aloud. "I mean, it's nice to be in the company of someone so knowledgeable… someone who can contextualize the phenomena of this place. That's the wonderful part - gaining more understanding of the culture and the uhm… history!" She looked at him questioningly, then shrugged. The spark in her eye had dimmed as quickly as it had appeared.

“Well, I did study here for two years,” she answered modestly. “Would be weird if I didn't pick up some fun facts along the way.

She led him to a quiet park. It had all the forgotten charm of a druid's grove, except the hedges and bushes were trimmed and manicured down to the inch. Brix stopped up and gestured to a statue reclined atop a boulder. It was in the shape of a man in a colourful suit. He was smirking down at the two, as if exceptionally pleased with himself over his latest witticism.

“This is Oscar Wilde,” she said. She went on to explain something about the man - a writer from centuries ago, but Gale wasn’t listening. Instead, he stared at a ring on the statue’s hand – a green beetle-shaped stone. Something within it thrummed. 

“Do you feel that?” Gale murmured, his gaze never leaving the ring. “The air is ripe with magic!”

“It does?”

“Oooh yes,” he said. “Stand back a moment.” 

He reached out and touched the little green stone and a surge of raw and ancient Weave pulsed outward. He clenched his jaw, trying to harness it. Or rather, wrestle it. This was so much older and wilder than the Weave of Mystra. It took all his strength to get it under his grasp and wield it. And even then it was a close call. Pain lanced through his fingers and shot all the way up to his shoulders. With a final strain, he ripped open a portal under the plinth of the statue. It was a wide, jagged thing, which glinted with angry sparks. It wasn't his neatest work, but it would work. It had to. He held out his hand for Brix with all the gentlemanly grace he could muster.

"Shall we?" Brix looked hesitantly at him and looked as if she wanted to say something. A flicker of doubt shot across his heart, but Brix took his hand nonetheless.

“Hell, at least I'll finally be out of Dublin."

“Which hell are you referring to?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” 

 --

The stench of sulfur, ash and charred meat hit his nose like a well-placed punch. Before them stretched a horridly familiar landscape, one Gale had seen only a few days ago. Red skies dotted with black smoke instead of clouds, and rivers of molten lava. Avernus bade the two humans welcome with a party of red imps flying straight towards them.

Had he been at full strength Gale could conjure up a hailstorm and the whole ordeal would be over in a matter of seconds. But opening the portal had gotten him dangerously close to running out of magic. Alright, the lanceboard is set. We make do with the pieces we have. 

“Brix, get behind me,” he said tightly. 

With a flourish he shot two ice cantrips at the nearest imps. His aim was slightly off, but he managed to hit one of the fiends and sent it crashing to the ground. But he wasn’t fast enough. A group of four imps headed straight for him. In a rare moment of uncertainty, Gale fumbled the hand movements of his next spell, and the nearest imp nearly hit him with its handaxe. 

Brix wasted no time. With a recklessness that nearly stopped Gale’s heart, she ran headfirst into the crowd of imps, grabbed one by its clawed hands and swung. When she let go, the momentum sent the imp barreling into its mates in a cacophony of indignant screeches. The clump of fiends was a perfect target for Gale. He threw a small ball of thunder into the mass of red claws and leathery wings. It hit with a deafening boom and the few remaining imps crashed into each other as they fled. 

Yet more of the little fiends arrived, screeching and circling the two like vultures. One of them dove towards Brix, but she squared her shoulders and punched it in the face. When it landed on the ground, she kicked it over the edge of the cliff and for the second time, Gale's heart nearly stopped.  

He shot as many ice cantrips as he could manage at the imps overhead. It was no use though; the cantrips only managed to graze one of them in the leg. Then the bolt of a crossbow caught Brix right in the shoulder. She let out a soul wrenching cry and dropped onto her knees. Gale sprinted towards her. If nothing else, he could shield her with his body.

No sooner had he managed to cover her, when a raging one-horned tiefling, built like a barn door, collided with the gaggle of imps. She made short work of the fiends with her battleaxe, swiftly, brutally and loudly. After cleaving the last imp in two, she turned to the stunned humans.  

“Stand down, soldier. That was the last of them… for now,” she panted, leaning on her weapon. “You're the new recruits, I take it?”

“Not exactly. Just your average travelers, catapulted into hell by fate and bad fortune,” Gale replied.

“Oh, thank the gods, I thought you were the latest warlock monkeys in Zariel’s circus!” she sighed in relief. “I’m Karlach.” She was taller and broader than Gale and her red skin was a tapestry of battle-scars and tattoos.

“Gale of Waterdeep,” he replied, sticking his hand out to shake hers, but the tiefling recoiled.

“Bad idea! These flames aren’t only for show," she said and banged her chest. To Gales surprise it made a noise like the metallic clang of plated armour. “Infernal engine for a heart. Touch me and your hand will sizzle right off.”

"I see. Well nonetheless, thank you for your assistance."

"No worries. But uh... is your friend alright?"

Brix was in fact not alright. She had shuffled out from under Gale's arms and was staring at the flaming landscape below. Gale cleared his throat to grab her attention. She turned to the two and gave an awkward thumbs up, before resuming to chant something in her own language. He had heard her speak it before - a strange muffled-sounding language, where one word seemed to swallow the next. Yet something about the cadence was vaguely familiar.

“Brix, are you… praying?” Gale asked incredulously.

“I’m trying!”

“Not sure praying is going to help, soldier,” Karlach said. “Let’s get out of here before we end up dead in a fiery ditch!”

“Wait, we’re not dead?” Brix asked.

“Not yet at least.” Gale added impatiently. “But if we keep dawdling, that status is not guaranteed.” 

“Oh, thank FUCK!” Brix whooped. “I thought I had made a HUGE mistake! Nå, Karla, is it? Lead on!”

“KarLACH. But you can just call me Mama K if that’s easier,” the tiefling replied. Where had he heard that name before? “Are you sure she’s alright? She seems a bit… loopy,” she whispered to Gale. 

“She’ll be fine… most likely.” he whispered back. “Do you know if there’s a place we can lay low for a while? I need a place to recharge my magic, and being on an infernal battlefield hardly seems a fitting locale for that purpose.”

“My base is about half a day’s march away.” Gale couldn’t hide the preemptive exhaustion from his face. How he could survive a march in the cloying atmosphere of Avernus was laughable at best. Not to mention that he would have to get a look at Brix’s arm as soon as possible. If there was at least one positive, it was that there were still no symptoms of ceremorphosis. Yet even that spark of optimism was frail at best. Behind his eyes, Gale could feel the tadpole squirming. He couldn't explain how, but it felt… expectant. 

"Hm... an arduous journey no doubt..."

“What about those ruins?" Brix said out of nowhere and pointed at the valley below. The terrain was a mess of lava pools and rock formations, with a cragged hill overlooking the ruined landscape.

“Ruins?” Karlach asked. "What do you mean?"

“It’s a motte-and-bailey castle. You see those stones around the base of the hill?” Brix said pointing at the rocks. Sure enough, on closer inspection, they were too squared-off to be a natural feature. Once upon a time, those had been walls. “That’s the bailey. The hill is called the motte. It’s where the castle would have been. If the cellar’s still intact, we could use it as a hiding spot.”

“Well, I’ll be twice damned and once fucked; that’s good thinking, soldier!” 

The two humans followed Karlach through the cursed landscape. Gale was ready to strike up a conversation with their new unlikely ally, but Brix beat him to it.

“How hot are you, then?”

“Hot enough to melt your eyelids shut if you get too close. Don’t ask me how I know that, by the way.”

“Can you cook things?”

“I’m a soldier in the Blood War! That doesn’t exactly allow time for cooking classes.” Karlach answered in confusion.

“No, I mean can you cook things on your skin?”

Gale was about to reprimand her for such a blatantly stupid and insensitive question, when Karlach erupted into loud cackles.

“Oh gods, you’re hilarious!” she wept through tears of laughter. “At least you won’t break off my horn if I don’t laugh at your jokes!”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to – I can’t reach!” The two continued down the slope, still laughing raucously. Gale was dumbstruck. Here they were, in the heart of Avernus, stuck near the front lines of the Blood War by his estimations, and Brix had just made a soldier of the infernal army laugh as if they were old friends.

--

The ruins were made up of the skeletal remains of ancient walls, poking out from the earth like a ribcage. Near the far edge of the broken foundations, the ground sloped upward. At the peak of the artificial hill, the remnants of some great structure lingered. 

It might have been some threatening fortress years ago, but now all that remained was a ruin of rocks and rotten wood. Gale tried to imagine what it would have been like, when it was teeming with infernal soldiers of every make, protected by its high walls. The raised hill could have been a final refuge or a grand office for its hellish commanders. 

For now, however, it would be as good a place as any for them to lie low until Gale could recover. He hated feeling like the reason for their delay. All this hiding and sneaking around was because of him and his lack of bloody spell charges. There had to be a way to circumvent all that…

“This base of yours, there wouldn’t happen to be any Waypoints around, would there?” he asked the tiefling.

“Sorry to disappoint, mate. They were all destroyed in the last raid.” Karlach answered solemnly. “Zariel thought it would be too much of a risk to let them stay open.”

“Ah, I see. Well then there’s nothing for it. I’ll simply start from scratch.”

“Gale, wait.” Brix interrupted. “Can I… talk to you for a moment?” Karlach, in a graceful display of tact, pretended to survey the walls of the ruins and left the pair a bit of privacy.

“What’s on your mind?” Gale asked. Brix chewed her lip and suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. Like she was looking for the right words to approach a delicate subject. 

“I’m worried,” she began hesitantly. “Casting this spell, especially after what you’ve just been through… that’s dangerous. Isn’t it?”

“What?” Gale couldn’t stop a short laugh at the question. “Do I look like I'm in any sort of danger?”

“No, but… Isn’t there anything I can do instead? We could lay low here for a while. Just until your magic is… what’s the word… up to it!” 

The question was innocent enough. It may even have been endearing, under the right circumstances. But these were not the right circumstances. These were the kinds of circumstances that snapped a thread within Gale’s mind that had been fraying for the last three days at least.

“You don’t think that I can do it, do you?” he said.

“Wait, what?”

“I know that this must seem like another in a long string of failures, but I swore to you that I would get you back home. But if you don’t have faith that I can do it, then… then why are you even here?” The words burst out of him before Gale could stop them. And now that the dam was broken, the rest came pouring out like a flash flood. “You’re not a wizard, you're barely even a fighter from what I've seen! So, what exactly are you going to do, Brix!?”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t end up killing yourself trying to get rid of me!” she yelled back.

“So, you decided to declare yourself resident babysitter, did you? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve been perfectly capable of handling myself so far, so your services in that department are neither needed nor wanted!”

“Oh, fuck off, Gale!”

“Gladly!”

“Knock it off, both of you!” Karlach yelled. They had both been so preoccupied by their stupid screaming match that neither of them noticed that Karlach hade returned. At least not before she smacked them both upside the head with the flat end of her axe. The blow snapped Gale out of his anger in an instant.

“I… I have to go,” he said and almost stumbled backwards. “Clear my head and… I’m sorry.”

--

He had found a secluded spot within the ruins - a ring of crumbling walls and broken beams. The perfect place to pace around and kick himself.

Of course she was right. Of course opening that many portals in such a short span of time was a bad idea. His grasp on the Weave was much frailer than it had been only a few days ago back in Baldur's Gate. Even someone with no arcane knowledge could see that he was paying the price for his folly and over-eagerness. Again. And he had managed to shove that someone away with all the stupidity and cruelty of a schoolyard bully. He had to make it up to her.

After some furious brainstorming and about half a dozen dead-ends, Gale gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride. The painful realization had cemented itself; he needed all the help he could get. Again. And at least he could present a solution to their problem, before he burdened his two allies with a task he was not capable of undertaking himself. 

As he approached the little fireplace they had set up, he could hear Brix’s voice.

“… he's right. I can’t do magic, I can’t fight, I just get in the way!”

“Oh, shush!” Karlach answered. “I saw you holding your own against those imps. And you found this hiding spot, didn’t you?”

“That’s… thank you.” Brix said, and Gale could hear the sad smile in her voice. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. Instead he kicked a nearby pebble to subtly alert them of his arrival before he rounded the corner. He expected the two to scowl or glare at him. He feared that they would ignore him completely. Instead Karlach gave him a broad smile and Brix gave him a short nod. 

“Ahem… You made a valid point earlier, Brix. However, rest assured I have found an alternative solution for our dimensional debacle that doesn’t put me or you at any unnecessary risk. You see, even though magic in the hells runs on a different logic than the Weave, I can still bind it to an anchor and use that to open up a portal,” he began. When Gale had practiced this speech in his head, he had been convinced that bringing a clear solution to the table would be a very good starting point. Brix's deadpan expression made him feel like he had managed to trip and fall face-first across this very good starting point.

“Well, I’m going to keep a lookout while you grovel for your girlfriend,” Karlach said. She strode away, battleaxe in hand before the two humans could sputter a full sentence of protest. This was already off to a ruinous start. Apparently Brix felt the same, because she resumed cursing in her own language.

Notes:

Karlach, my beloved ( ˘ ³˘)
So to answer the question from earlier - how does Gale handle not being able to solve a problem with magic? Not well it turns out :D

Next chapter: Friendship is metal!

Chapter 9: An Axe to Grind Your Gears On

Summary:

In this chapter:
Brix discovers that friendship is metal! \m/_(> . <)_\m/

As far as Brix was concerned, there is no such thing as love at first sight. But there is such a thing as friends at first laugh. And Karlach was doomed to be Brix’s friend from the moment she laughed at her awful joke about cooking things on her. Between the oppressive heat and the desolate landscape of red, black and despair, the tiefling was like a breath of fresh air. But Brix couldn’t lie, Karlach’s appearance scared her to bits. 

She was at least a head taller than Brix, double as wide and red. She had a long spiny tail and ram-like horns, where one had been cracked off near the base. But the thing that disturbed Brix the most, though she was determined never to let it show, were the honest-to-God vents in Karlach’s shoulders. They looked like they had been drilled directly into the scarred tissue of her skin, and every so often, they let out angry little hisses.

Even so, Karlach quickly proved to be as kind as she was intimidating. Small wonder Brix had fallen head over heels for her - platonically speaking.

That platonic infatuation had nearly come to a screeching halt however, as Brix tenderly rubbed her head on the spot where Karlach had landed a hit. Gale had already stormed off, and Brix was debating whether to leave him to rot or to chase after him with Karlach’s damned axe.

“Right, what was all that about?” the tiefling demanded. Fuck it.

“Gale managed to get himself stuck in my world, and on his way back he dragged me into his. I’ve been playing Tag-along Tina ever since and he’s halfway killed himself in the attempts to throw me back!” Brix exploded. If doesn’t want me talking about it, he can damn well march his ass back here and shut me up himself! Whatever Karlach had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that.

“Your… world?” she spoke the words as if they would make better sense coming out of her own mouth than Brix’s. “What do you mean?”

“No clue!” Brix cried and kicked a nearby rock. "All I know is that where I'm from, magic isn't real, Hell isn't… well, that's up for debate, and the only people there are well… human!"

 Karlach’s eyes widened, startling Brix. Her pupils were slitted, like the eyes of a cat.

“Wait, does that mean I’m the first tiefling you’ve ever met?” 

"Technically there was one other in Baldur's Gate but…"

"YOU'VE BEEN TO THE GATE?" Karlach cried out. "Oh, I'd give anything to go back there! It's been at least what… ten years? What was it like? Did you try the food? Ugh, PLEASE tell me you didn't miss out on the black pudding platter." 

"You've been?" Brix asked. Karlach's excitement dropped like a stone down a well. All that was left in her eyes was an immense sorrow that looked so wrong on her otherwise cheery face. 

"My hometown. Before… this," she said and gestured vaguely at the burning hell-scape around them. 

There was a story waiting to be told. Brix could tell that Karlach desperately wanted to tell it, but it was not going to be a heartwarming tale of friendship and puppy-dogs. It needed to be told while their hands were occupied. A car ride would have been ideal, but in lieu of that…

“I’m going to search for the cellar. You want to join? You can tell me all about the things I missed in town." Karlach agreed and the two went scrounging. They chatted like old friends, and as the conversation went on Brix thought her heart would break in place of Karlach’s. 

She told Brix about being sold off as a slave when she was barely a teen. She told her about how her heart was taken and replaced with a machine, turning her into a living weapon in a war that was not hers. All of it threatened to hollow Brix out and fill her up with a decade of someone else’s despair. She retreated into the task at hand, brushing the dust away from a slab of black rock and let the dust settle into her eyes along with tears she didn’t have the courage to shed.

"I think I found something!” Karlach called. She stood over a large wooden hatch, bolted with a padlock the size of her fist.

“Hm… you have a hairpin?” Brix asked. Maybe a needle or something could be used to work the lock open. Karlach just grinned and brought down her axe with the force of a hundred sledgehammers. The wooden hatch splintered open with a dry crack and revealed a small cubbyhole. Huh. Who needs a locksmith in Hell anyway?

“What does that mean?” Karlach asked. Brix hadn’t realized she had said it aloud and felt a bit wrong-footed trying to translate. But the tiefling took it all in good fun and insisted that Brix teach her some swear words. Not surprisingly, Satans quickly became Karlach’s favourites.

Brix climbed down the rickety little ladder into the cellar. There was barely enough room for her to turn around once she had reached the bottom. The smell of long-decayed food and mould wafted from the few rotting baskets left behind. It must have been used as an emergency larder once upon a time. Brix was about to climb up again, when a small leather pouch caught her attention. There was something familiar in the air when she reached towards it. The Weave!

She couldn’t describe it, but it felt… snappier than the gentle hum of the amulet she had given Gale. A shiver ran through her body at the reminder. Gale hadn’t consumed an artefact since Baldur’s Gate, and she had no idea how long he would last before he got sick again. Dammit! He might be acting like a proper jackass, but that does not mean that the Purple-clad Prince of Pinheads gets to just keel over!

“Anything down there?” Karlach called from above.

“Nothing edible!” Brix replied and pocketed the little pouch.

--

Once they returned to the little square where they had left their things, Brix rubbed her shoulder tenderly. The mix of adrenaline, shock and exhaustion had been a powerful painkiller, but now her arm hurt like a bitch. The bolt of the crossbow had sliced through the skin in her arm, leaving a horrible gash, but there was no projectile stuck in the flesh. Unfortunately, it had left a huge tear in her grandfather's jacket. The old man had always taken such good care of. Now the olive-green corduroy was stained with blood because of her recklessness. 

"I have some field dressing you can use," Karlach offered. Brix nodded her thanks, but made no gesture to accept the offer. It was too embarrassing to admit that she had no idea how to use a first aid kit, let alone whatever magic, medieval mock-up healthcare would be available here. She'd rather risk an infection than accidentally overdose on the hellish equivalent to antibiotics. 

"So… you and Magic Man. What's the story there?" Karlach asked. "Because there is definitely some tension between the two of you."

"He accidentally abducted me - of course there's going to be fucking tension!" 

"Uh-huh. I'm just wondering why is it the 'I'm worried about you'-kinda tension, and not the 'I'm going to bash your brains in for abducting me'-kinda tension." 

“Please! I'm more shocked that he hasn't already bashed my brains in! I'm as useful as headlights on an office chair, and he's been doing everything he can to get me back!" Once again, the words burst out of Brix with little to no warning. "I'm just tired of being so fucking useless…"  

“Don’t beat yourself up, soldier. He’s probably just too proud to accept help in general. Wizards can be like that, you know."

“Well, proud or not, he’s right. I can’t do magic, I can’t fight, I just get in the way!”

“Oh, shush!” Karlach berated. " I saw you holding your own against those imps. And you found this hiding spot, didn’t you?”

“That’s…" Brix was ready with dozens of different arguments against it, but Karlach looked at her with a stubborn expression painted across her face. The message was clear: this was not empty praise, it was an observation. "Thank you,” Brix said and tried to smile. 

She was about to ask what they should do about dinner, but at that moment Gale appeared from behind a crumbling section of the wall, looking like he was preparing a speech. Brix nodded in greeting. She didn’t trust her own voice. Luckily, Gale was happy to fill out any awkward silence. Brix half-listened while he rambled about how magic here was different, and that he could create a portal using some different technique. She was desperate not to let her discomfort show, instead focusing on a weirdly shaped rock behind his shoulder. There was a painful silence, where no one knew what to say, except for Karlach.

“Well, I’m going to keep a lookout while you grovel for your girlfriend,” she said brightly and bolted.

“Excuse me, where in the neon-lighted FUCK do you think you're going? Get back here, you overgrown goat-lizard! I thought we were friends!” She spat out all manner of insults, some real and some made-up, mainly to distract herself from Gale, who had now sat himself on a boulder beside her. Brix felt a distinct urge to run away screaming but her body was frozen in place. There was no way around it. She and Gale had to talk.

"She's right. I do owe you an apology," he began. Brix held her breath. "Of all my failures, and believe me, there are quite a few - none compare to the horrible things I said to you. It was frankly appalling behaviour not befitting any wizard worth his salt, and… it was no way to speak to a friend.” 

Friend? Are we friends? When in the name of all half-baked cookies did we become friends? Or is it just an unfortunate side-effect of being stuck with me for so long? Oh shit, did I manipulate him by accident into thinking he should be friends with me?

“Please... will you say something?” Gale pleaded. God, she would have if she could. She hadn't even realized just how long she had been frozen in place. He might as well have been the sun for all the effort she put into not looking at him directly. She simply handed the pouch to Gale, took out a cigarette and fiddled with the lighter. 

“You're only a failure if you give up.” The echo of her father was all she could force over her lips. She wished she could take a crowbar to her jaw and wrench more words loose. Emotional lockjaw, her American friend had called it once. Brix called it cowardice and it was her cardinal sin. "Tell me about this plan of yours."

Gale silently tucked the little pouch into his robe and began explaining. Where he could compose and shape the Weave after his own will, here the magic flowed in more erratic patterns. It was convoluted and deliberately muddled, like the text of a tricky-worded contract. 

“Fitting, considering that the bread and butter of most devils is precisely that,” he half-joked. Brix made a mental note. So we’re running on Faust-principles. Good to know. Gale continued his explanation. “I may not be able to wield this infernal version of the Weave, but that doesn’t mean I cannot bind it in a sigil. Sigils and rituals, though more time-consuming than a flick of the wrist and some magic words, are an acceptable alternative.”

"Sounds good," Brix said. "One thing though - we're bringing Karlach."

"Well of course! I thought that was a given-"

"Where are we bringing Karlach?" the tiefling had returned, and was now eyeing them both with suspicion. "Listen, I like you two, but if you try and screw me over just because I did you one good turn, I swear I'll rip out your guts and string a harp with 'em!" 

The colour drained from Gale's face and he looked like his fight or flight response was ready to kick into high gear. Granted, the sudden change in Karlach's demeanour should have frightened Brix too. But she had only heard half of the conversation, so why bother being scared?

"Gale has an idea to make a portal out of here. We want to bring you with us," she clarified. 

"What? Why?" 

"You were a fierce ally to us when we first arrived here," the wizard added. "The least we can do is help you in return. Unless of course you are satisfied with your station here, in which case -"

"Nothing good ever happens in the Hells." Karlach interrupted quietly. 

"Well, good thing none of us are from Hell, then." Brix punctuated. "Gale, what did you say you needed for the anchor?"

"Right. Well, firstly, we'll need something to serve as a tether to Avernus. An item imbued with the very essence of the Hells, if you will. Secondly, we'll need something to fuel the spell; something with enough infernal energy to send us blasting off through the veil between realms. And finally, we'll need something to serve as an anchor to our destination." Gale stopped for a moment and turned to Brix. "I'm sorry Brix, but this time I can't aim for your home-world. It has to be from Faerûn."

"No worries. We'll figure something out later." 

"You two are really serious, aren't you?" Karlach asked. Her voice was strained. Brix wanted to give her a reassuring pat on the arm, but the heat radiating off the tiefling became unbearable before her fingers could reach. Before she could get the verbal crowbar out again, Gale smiled gently at Karlach. 

"While I cannot speak on Brix's behalf, I would not have offered it if I didn't mean it wholeheartedly," he said warmly. "I know we have only known each other for a short time, and you have no reason to trust either of us. But if you choose to do so, I can guarantee you that faith will not be misplaced."

Karlach's lower lip trembled and Brix hurried to look away. One emotional outburst was more than enough for one day, thank you very much.

"I… I think I might have something that could be used as an anchor." Karlach said with a sniffle. "But it's back at my base. And no way am I going to convince the guards to let two humans just waltz in for a tour of the place." 

The three sat in silence each racking their brains for a solution or just the vague suggestion of a plan. Karlach rubbed the base of her broken horn, Gale scratched his beard, and Brix fiddled with the pendant he had given her. Then, like a creeping vine, a thought wrapped itself around her mind until it grew into a full-fledged idea. 

"What if it's not two humans?" Her two companions sent her a bewildered look. "Gale, you've talked about illusion magic before - can you use it to disguise people?"

"By Mystra's mantle, that's genius!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of that; it's so brilliant in its simplicity!" The excitement seemed to fade as quickly as it had come. "But if I'm to create a portal across the planes, then I'll have to conserve my energy. Loathe as I am to admit it, two illusions at the same time would simply be too demanding in my current state." 

"Well… maybe we only need one," Karlach said. "There's a dungeon at the base. One of you can act as a newly recruited jailer and the other as a prisoner. No one would bat an eye at that!" 

"That would certainly be a more feasible solution on my part. But in any case, it will have to wait until tomorrow. We're all in need of rest and you need to get that shoulder looked at." Brix resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the resident Mother Hen while he fussed over her with Karlach's field kit. 

It turned out that Gale was surprisingly good at first aid. He helped her gently out of her jacket and sweater and set to work. Brix had helped with changing bandages once or twice when they were short-staffed at the hospital, and she had seen the deft hands of an experienced nurse at work. Gale didn't work like that. He took great care to examine the wound and was as gentle as he was quick with the bandages. She had of course seen his hands at work whenever he cast a spell, but this was different. For lack of a better word, it felt almost intimate.

Meanwhile Karlach started a little fire and roasted some strange-looking chunks of meat over the flames. Brix was almost disappointed that she hadn't grabbed the opportunity to test their theory about using her body as a makeshift frying pan. Even so, she felt a smile creep over her lips. Despite the hellish surroundings (which for once was not an exaggeration), a feeling of camaraderie had settled over the little camp. And though the air was heavy and sulphuric, Brix felt herself breathe a lot easier than she had in Dublin. 

When Gale excused himself to dispose of the used bandages, Brix and Karlach enjoyed a post-dinner smoke. It turned out that having a new camp-mate who was literally on fire was pretty damn helpful for an emergency smoker like Brix. Especially since said camp-mate was generous enough to offer Brix one of her own funny-smelling cigars.  

"So you two haven't…?" Karlach asked out of the blue. Brix struggled not to choke on a mix of surprise and unfamiliarly strong tobacco. 

"Nope!" She puffed the cigar slowly while searching for the next words. Granted, he wouldn't have to run laps around her bed. Her thoughts drifted to the sight of him that very morning. The soft, barrel-shaped body covered with fine brown hair, that she longed to run her fingers through. And that bashful pout that sent Brix reeling. However, sex was a hobby at best, a coping mechanism at worst and Gale didn't fit into either category. But then... which category did he fit into? "I don't think he would want to. He's too… what would you call it … proper for that."

"Hm," was all Karlach said. Brix was happy to leave it at that and ask Karlach about her love-life for a change, when the tall woman stood up, stubbed out her cigar and promptly set fire to Gale's extra bedroll. 

"What the finger-licking HELL are you doing!?"

"Are you two alright?" Gale ran back into camp and found Brix furiously stomping out the flames and Karlach pretending to look shocked.

"Aw mate, sorry - I dropped my cigar on Brix's bedroll and now she has nowhere to sleep!" the tiefling said with unconvincing innocence. Gale was too busy conjuring a rain cloud to douse the flames to notice Karlach giving Brix a huge grin and a thumbs up.

"By Mystra's elbow, what a disaster," he groaned. "I'm sorry Brix, there's no saving this. Please, take my bedroll tonight."

"No!" Karlach cried out. "There are… hell-worms on the ground! They'll bite your toes off in the night if you aren't in a bedroll!"

"Hell-worms?" Gale asked. "Aren't those just children's stories?" 

"Nope." Karlach said. "You'll have to huddle up together for warmth- I mean safety!"

Brix wanted to murder Karlach. She wanted to murder her, resurrect her and then murder her again. But what was done was done. She was sharing a sleeping bag with Gale. 

Satans.

Notes:

And there was only one bed(roll)
(灬º‿º灬)

Next chapter: Disguises are donned and kinks are uncovered.

Chapter 10: Give Me My Bones!

Summary:

In this chapter: Gale tries out infiltration tactics for the first time and uncovers a couple of new kinks

It was a tight fit.

Gale could feel every contour and every fold of the bedroll and the woman behind him, whom he was desperately trying to ignore. They had awkwardly shuffled themselves as far apart as possible and both lay ramrod straight, so only their backs were touching. Gale's neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle in an attempt to lay claim to a tiny corner of the pillow between them. He had folded his arms over his chest like a corpse in a sarcophagus and as far as he could tell Brix had done the same. 

It was positively suffocating.

"Gale," Brix finally choked. He could feel the vibration of her voice against his spine. "This isn't working." 

"I have to agree," he whispered back. "But the circumstances don't really permit a plethora of other options." There was an uncomfortable silence and Gale tried to will himself to sleep.

"Lie on your back." 

"What!?" 

"You want hair in your mouth?! 'Cause I don't!" Brix hissed. "Lie. On your. Back." Gale complied wordlessly. The conversation from earlier still haunted him and he was too terrified of driving a further wedge between them to argue with her.

Brix tossed herself around and shuffled up against him. She tried finding an appropriate angle to place her head, before she finally gave up and demonstrably plonked her head onto his chest. Instinctively, he rested his arm on her shoulder and as if on cue, she placed a long arm across him. Gale gave her shoulder an involuntary squeeze and she flinched.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Does it hurt?" 

"Pardon?" 

"The… mark on your chest." 

"The skin around it doesn't hurt, if that's what you're worried about," he said. "It's actually quite numb to touch. Like a scar or a burn mark." As if to test the theory she gently ran her thumb across his neck. 

"Hm. That's good," she murmured. "Nå. Sov godt."

The tension in his muscles melted away to the rhythm of Brix’s slowing breath. After a while her thumb finally stopped moving and her little snores began. In the eerie light of a burning sky, Gale studied the tattoos on her arm like a star-map. How strange, he thought. Even in the depths of the Hells, there is still such a thing as peace. And throwing all sense of propriety out the window, he squeezed her arm again and held her just a bit closer. 

--

Gale's usual nightmare of the book and the orb was constantly interrupted before it could really begin. It turned out that Brix had a terrible habit of tossing and turning in her sleep. On more than one occasion Gale was awoken by an accidental slap to the face or a knee in his side. The best he could say about his new bunk-mate was that at least she didn't snore. But she did mumble in an indecipherable mix of her own language and Common, which he found more curious than annoying.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to discover Brix's right leg snaked up between his, which left his right leg pinned under hers. This made ignoring the more involuntary reactions of his body an impossibility. His pants were uncomfortably tight. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake away the memory of how her body had felt pressed against his after the narrow escape from the imps. Aside from the sheer proximity to her, he couldn't shake away the memory of how her body had felt pressed against his after the narrow escape from the imps. How he could feel her shoulders trembling where he held her steady. The smell of sweat and adrenaline had made his head swim and his cock twitch. 

What he would give for just half an hour of privacy… just long enough to regain control over himself and calm the orb. He carefully crept out of the bedroll. Brix let out a small sigh of discontent and tried pulling him back and Gale nearly relented then and there. But the orbs' hunger pangs were more insistent. It felt sharp this time, like a thousand tiny needles puncturing him from the inside.

He shuffled out of his bedroll scrambled through his robes to find the little pouch she had given him the day before. It had not hummed with the Weave, but rather it hissed and crackled with infernal magic. Still, it would have to suffice. In the pouch he found two little rings and a circlet. He took the circlet first and pressed it to the scar on his chest.

He braced himself as the magical artefact almost tried to wriggle itself free from his grasp, as if it was trying to escape its fate. The Netherese Weave embedded within him focused into a sharp point directly under the circle shaped scar before it greedily drank in the traces of magic out of the very fibres of the little circlet. He had never quite gotten used to the sensation, but at least he knew what to expect. But this, he did not expect. The magic did not have the usual effect. The arcane hunger still burned within him and made Gale stifle a groan.

This is not good… I need to find out what is going on with the orb and fast… He didn't get much further before their new campmate began to stir. Might as well get started on breakfast then. No use in panicking on an empty stomach. Karlach was up in no time, simply pulling a strappy leather jerkin over her head and stepping into a pair of well-worn boots.

"Aren't you going to get up?" Karlach said to the bundle in the bedroll. She was met with an incoherent mumble from Brix. When she had finally wrestled herself out of her bedroll and into her sweater, Brix slumped down beside Gale. Her hair covered half her face and Gale wondered if she could see at all through the messy fringe. Apparently she could, because she grabbed the nearest mug and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the griddle.

"So, have you two figured out who's going in disguise for the day?" Karlach asked.

"We haven't discussed it, but I would put forth the notion that Brix should don the disguise," he stated as matter-of-factly as he could. Brix spat out a good helping of her rationed coffee. 

"Notion de-fucking-nied!" she sputtered furiously. 

"Why not? You'd make an adorable tiefling!" Karlach laughed, winking at Gale. Now it was his turn to nearly choke on his coffee. 

"That was not what I… I'm basing it on facts, not facial features!" he said indignantly. "Fact 1, you have an uncanny ability to gain the trust of nearly everyone we've come across, including some famously hard-to-please individuals over the course of our travels." At this he sent her a knowing look. Morena Dekarios did not suffer fools easily, and Gale had not forgotten the sight of her linking arms with Brix as though they were childhood chums after only an afternoon. Brix did not return his gaze. Instead she was suddenly very preoccupied with taking in every bump and scratch on her little tin mug.

"Fact 2, and I regret bringing it up again, but you're not from Faerûn, so you'll need all the advantages you can get to blend in. In lieu of any real armor, the armor of a well-placed disguise will still lend you a modicum of protection. It wouldn't be completely unheard of for a wizard as myself to somehow have landed in the Hells, but you on the other hand -" 

"Will it make you shut up if I say yes?" Brix grumbled. Her face was almost as red as Karlach's. Gale could not remember ever having seen her ever blush and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see anything else ever again.

"Don't make him give any promises he can't keep," Karlach grinned. Brix stared at her with the acidity of a thousand sulfuric lakes while tying her hair up in her usual half-bun. 

--

The trek through Avernus was stiflingly hot and strenuous on both body and mind. All around them the landscape was littered with bones from long-forgotten battles and long-dead monsters. These were the only signs of life, as there wasn't as much as a shrub to be spotted in the barren wasteland of the first hell. They approached a large fortress, which Karlach pointed out as her base of operations. She instructed them with all the iron-clad pragmatism of a veteran soldier; a far cry from her otherwise bubbly self. It almost unnerved Gale, but not as much as her next instructions:

"Now, when we get to the base, the first thing we're gonna do is get Gale to the dungeon. Keep your heads low and don't draw any attention to yourself. Devils love to break things, and we're just things to them. Remember that."

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to get into character, as it were," said Gale. Brix nodded in accord. Her brow was furrowed in determination and her shoulders were squared. Almost as if she expected a painful process. The spell was however a simple feat. With a touch on her shoulder and a recital of the magic words Gale's illusion immediately took hold. Instead of a strangely-dressed human, a blue-skinned tiefling in a plain green doublet stood in front of the two. Her ash-blonde hair had turned steely grey and a pair of short lyre-shaped horns protruded from just above her hairline. Her eyes however, remained the same. Complimenting her now deep blue skin, Gale realized that they were a dark misty shade of blue, not the slate-grey colour he had previously thought. 

"Does it look… convincing?" Brix asked. 

"We could be sisters!" Karlach beamed. "Or well… First cousins. Twice removed. Maybe…"

"Well the tiefling part is certainly covered," Gale said, examining Brix's new form for any anatomical discrepancies. Did all tieflings have ridges along the base of their tails? He suddenly became very aware of how it must look, for him to be carefully inspecting Brix's arse and quickly looked away before he could make a bigger fool of himself than necessary. "Now we just need to sell the illusion of a jailer."

"Ooh! I've got just the thing!" Karlach said and produced a heavy-looking chain and a set of rusty manacles from her pack. "Found this near the cellar."

"And how is that going to help her disguise?" he asked. "Surely the outfit blends in acceptably without any further adornments. And won't they just weigh her down?"

Brix must have realized something Gale did not. Because she slowly turned her head towards Gale, with her face split into a fiendish grin. 

"Not me. You."

Gale's heart raced at the sight of her now sharpened teeth behind that wicked smile and he felt the colour drain from his face. He tried to protest and argue and defend himself, but there was no changing the minds of his ex-allies, now ruthless bullies. The manacles were clamped around his hands and the collar was fitted around his neck with a heavy click. Thank goodness his beard wasn't too grown-out, or it would have been an uncomfortably tight fit. Brix had apparently foreseen this as she wiggled two fingers into the space between his neck and the collar, making sure that he wouldn't be choked by the prop. He was almost touched by the considerate act, before she closed the lock and gave a quick pull of the chain. The noise that came out of Gale was somewhere between a surprised gasp and a pained whine. 

"Looks good on you," she teased, flashing him a lopsided grin.

"Let's just get this over with." he bristled. Brix turned on her heel and obliged. The three of them made their way towards the looming fortress. For Karlach the trip was obviously a question of routine. A long-hated routine, judging from her body-language, but nothing out of the ordinary. 

When they arrived at the fortress Gale spotted a woman at the gate. She was a wiry thing, all muscle and sinew under the leather armor. Her hair was oily black and slicked back into a long ponytail. But what caught Gale's attention was the two great antlers growing from her forehead and a pair of bat-like wings draped over her shoulder like a leathery red cloak. She was sharpening a long thin dagger on a leather strop when she noticed the little party approach. 

"Dammit. Was hoping she wasn't on duty…" Karlach muttered under her breath. 

"Karlach! My favourite tin-pot!" the cambion called out. "Uthlokar bet that you would get torn to pieces by pit-fiends this time for sure!"

"Hi Flo. How did your gambling addiction pan out this time?" Karlach answered coolly. 

"You just won me a week's worth of soul coins," Flo said, turning her attention towards Gale and Brix. There was something uncanny about the cambion's movements as she almost swam towards them to get a closer look.

"Hey hey, Clankers. What's with the fresh meat?"

"New recruit from Cania. She found a new toy for Zariel roaming around near the ruins."

"Oooh?" Flo stalked behind Gale, trailing the leather strop behind her like a streamer. "I think I'll have a little play session with it first. Break it in for the boss and all..."

"Feel free, but Zariel's gonna break off those antlers and shove them down your throat if you touch him." Brix said it with so much boredom one would think she was standing in line at a magistrates office to discuss tax policies in Cormyr. "That's what she told me when I got ideas, at least." Flo leaned her face closely towards the nape of Gale's neck. He could feel the hot breath and he struggled not to shiver in disgust when she dragged a single long nail across his neck.

"Shame… such a wringable neck on this one. Still, orders are orders," Flo sighed dramatically. She turned away from Gale and in two swift steps she was staring Brix down with pure infernal hatred. "But you, little bluebottle, do not give me orders." The cambion's voice was dangerously low but Brix did not flinch. 

"Don't you have anything better to do, Florenta?" Karlach said. Flo narrowed her eyes, still staring unblinkingly at Brix. 

"I would, but your mother's stopped returning my social calls," she said flippantly and returned to sharpening her dagger. "Off you fuck, then." 

Karlach led them through the gate into the fortress. As they entered two towering soldiers stood vigil at the entrance, weapons in hand. The halls of the fortress were carved out of a combination of blackened bone and ash-like clay, making it look like the rotting insides of some beastly carcass. They descended the halls, past some of Karlach’s peers. If Flo had been friendly towards them, then these ones were downright socialites.

“Hey, here comes dessert!” the first soldier roared to the others. He was answered by the heavy clanging of halberds bashed against each other. Another soldier brushed past Brix and whispered just loud enough for Gale to hear something along the lines of “Bring us his teeth when you’re done. We need new dice.”

Karlach growled something in broken Infernal to them, but the devils only took this as an invitation to torment the new arrivals even more. Before he knew what was going on, a heavy set of claws dug into Gale’s back and the stench of ozone and alcohol nearly clouded his vision.

“They say your kind screams loudest when they have no more magic to use… I wonder how sweet you’ll scream for me” a low voice slurred greedily. A hard tug on the chain pulled Gale out of the claws and onto his knees in front of Brix.

“If you have time for chatting, you’re not moving fast enough!” she said with an icy edge Gale had never heard before. She tightened the chain even more and pulled his face mere inches from hers. Her face was twisted into a haughty smirk. “Or maybe you’re just enjoying the attention?” 

While the devils burst into taunts and jeers at the display, she whispered into his ear: “If you need an out, say ‘Dublin’, ok?” Gale gave only a hint of a nod, and she stood back up, giving the chain a violent jerk upwards. 

--

They descended down a long moldy-smelling stairwell until they finally reached the dungeon. Chains hung from the rafters in the ceiling and the bones of humanoids and monstrosities alike littered the corners. The same sickly pulse of the torches permeated the room. There was only one other person in the dungeon - another devil by the looks of, bundled up in a tattered blanket in a cell. Brix led Gale into an empty cell and clicked the collar off.

“You okay?” she asked, while fiddling with the manacles. She was so careful not to pinch or nick the skin on his wrists, he almost considered wincing just to see how she would react. 

“You needn’t worry about me,” he said quietly. Brix loosened them just enough for the blood flow to resume and he flexed his fingers carefully. “I must applaud your acting skills. You would make an excellent bard, you know.”

“What’s a bard?” 

"It's like a wizard, except they sing and have sex." Karlach said impatiently. "Come on we need to get a move on." 

"Wizards don't have sex?" Brix asked in alarm. Gale was about to protest much too loudly and much too rapidly, but the two had already left. Instead he was now locked in a cell with no company except for his own indignation. Or so he thought. 

"You need help spanking your daughter?!" A high-pitched voice called from the blanketed bundle in the other cell.

"I beg your pardon?" Gale whipped around to see a short devil scurry over to the bars. One horn was upside down and he had a scraggly orange beard. He stared at Gale with a mad intensity before he continued.

"Yeah, I'd spank your daughter. Can't anymore since they took my hands," he said and held up a perfectly normal-looking hand. "Shucked 'em off like cornhusks and threw 'em in with the rest of the treasure!"

"Right. How long have you been in here, exactly?" Gale asked politely. 

"Since the king of clubs was a kid. What's it to you?" 

"Nothing at all, my friend, just trying to make conversation." 

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I BRING TO THE FRIENDSHIP!" the fiend suddenly screamed. "I'LL TELL YOU! I'LL TELL IT ALL!" He mashed his face in between the bars "Ish the chaaaainsh!! Zariel’sh kinkyyy trauma-dumping chain-linnnk she keeps wiff my handssh!" 

"Zariel's… chain-link?" Gale said in disbelief. The devil pulled his face back from the bars.

"Well, Kostchtchie's chains, but yeah, they keep it in a bone box in the treasury." he said matter-of-factly. "Last door on the left, directly under the bleeding sun sigil and across the screaming vestibule. Just don't touch the gargoyle. He'll just try to warn of the BRIDGE!” he yelled out the last word like it was a spell. When nothing happened he skulked back to his blanket and fiddled with the edges. Gale furrowed his brow. This was all too good to be true. And yet, the possibility of a reliquary such as that, an artefact that had bound an archdevil, that was too promising a lead to pass up. 

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. The devil's ears perked up and he spun around to face the wizard. 

"I was given lead milk as a baby," he said simply, as if that somehow answered all further questions Gale would have. And in its own way, it did. 

Gale sat by the door of his cell and silently begged Brix and Karlach to return before he went as mad as his new roomie. He contemplated all the decisions that had led him to a jail cell in Avernus. And how he, despite being of sound mind and free will, had agreed to letting Brix chain him up and humiliate him in front of a whole battalion of vicious devils. And why the only thing more humiliating than being jerked around like a leashed dog was how much he had liked it.

Notes:

Did I create an entire side-character as an homage to my favourite podcast host? Yes. Will I apologize? Also yes.
Hail yourselves!

Next chapter: Brix bullshits her way through Hell.

Chapter 11: Meet the MacGuffins

Summary:

In this chapter: Brix bullshits her way through Hell!

At the top of the stairwell, Brix and Karlach split up. Karlach would retrieve the mystical mooring to the mortal plane and Brix would… investigate. 

She wandered the halls looking as annoyed as she could. If she looked annoyed, people would think she was busy. And if people thought she was busy, they wouldn't bother her. So said the wisdom of early 90's sitcoms she had watched with her grandpa, at any rate. George Costanza, don't fail me now!

Her grumpy face was a poor disguise. Try as she might, Brix could not cover her excitement at getting to roam the barracks. When she was sure nobody was looking, she scraped her nail against the walls. The grey clay crumbled easily enough and revealed a thinly woven panel underneath. Wattle and daub - hehehehehe I knew it! And hold on - is the framing made of… bone?! Brix had to fight the urge to snap off a piece and examine it even further. 

She passed a group of soldiers that looked even angrier than her and had to stop herself from running up and asking them to demonstrate how they used their halberds in combat. And why the blades were shaped like oversized shark-teeth. She was so engrossed in observing and hypothesizing about everything from the architecture to the heraldry that she almost lost track of what she was supposed to be doing. 

Eventually she passed an empty room that looked like a cross between a library and a sex-dungeon but with all the enjoyment sucked out of it. The walls were lined with books written in jagged, rune-like letters, and tacky-looking armchairs and red velvet chaises longues were littered about the room. Whoever occupied this room was messy in all senses of the word.

She was about to leave the off-colour office, when her eyes fell upon the strangest thing. On a tiny shelf on the wall was something that looked like a green glass cloche with a floating dagger inside. 

No, not a dagger - a fang.

A gigantic canine tooth from some monster, it was approximately the length of Brix's entire hand and yellow as cigarette-stained wallpaper. But the creepiest thing about it wasn't the size or the color, but the fact that it somehow… blinked. As Brix watched it, it seemed to glitch in and out of existence, disappearing and reappearing in different corners of the glass container. What was it? She was about to take a careful step into the library when a voice nearly made her jump out of her disguised skin.

"Hey! There's my favourite little bluebottle!" Ah, shit. The devil-woman who had played tough-gal before was standing next to a lumbering ox of a devil with curled horns and a swollen eye. They looked like they were about to pick a fight, but Brix beat them to the punch. She sauntered over to them brandishing her one surefire weapon - a cigarette. 

"Any of you got a light?" she asked as casually as she could. Ox-man snorted derisively, but Flo obliged her with a grin and a snap of her fingers. So devils have fire-powers. Good to know.

"We were just talking about you." Flo had a voice like barbed wire; sharp, smooth and with just enough unexpected prickles to keep Brix on her toes. "New recruit from Cania, right?"

"Yep. Just got transferred." 

"Must be gone to shit," Ox-Man said. "Since they're sending more bloody tiefs up here." 

"Meh, there's jack shit and half a lollipop to do there these days," Brix bluffed and ignored what was obviously a slur. 

"Ha! Is that right!?" Flo cackled. "I knew Mephistopheles had a stake up his arse on the best of days, but ever since that stupid break-in the old iceberg has been tighter than a cleric's- " 

"Heard he's consorting with upstart vampire-lords now," Ox-Man interrupted. "Bloody disgrace, if you ask me." Flo gave him a withering look and he looked like he was ready to shrink down to half his size. This could be the angle Brix could play up… She tried desperately to remember what Gale had found so funny about them back in Baldur's Gate, but the memory slipped out of her grasp. 

"Heh, good pun," she said to Ox-man. He smiled at the compliment, seemingly despite himself. "You're right though - bloodsuckers are crawling all over the place like overstuffed leeches," she said in her patented 10-hour shift voice. "Meph… The Boss started hiring them as 'external consultants' to tighten up security. As if they have any clue what they're doing…" The lie came easily enough - Brix simply parroted the same things her colleagues had complained about when HR had been pressured into hiring one such consultant to scrutinize the hospital's work environment. It had been a waste of time, money and conference rooms and the consultant's conclusion could roughly be summarized as "being understaffed is bad for mental health of the staff."

"So the old chucklefuck has found a new way to keep his claws clean of mortal blood. Clever old bastard…" Flo said bitterly. Something about her tone made Brix prick up her ears, but she still had a job to do. 

"So… what's with the tooth?" she asked. "Feel like I've seen one of those before…"

"The captain's prize possession," Flo drawled. "Honestly, he kills one displacer beast and suddenly he's King Monsterfucker!"

"Displacer beast…" Brix murmured, trying to commit every last detail to memory. "That's where I've seen it!" she said with a snap of her fingers. "One of the inmates back in Cania had it confiscated." 

"Must have been a pain in the ass," Ox-man said. "It took us at least a couple of hours to catch the damned thing."

Flo burst into a fit of shrill laughter at the mention of their encounter.

"The little bugger wouldn't stop disappearing and reappearing all over camp!" she screeched through hysterical tears. "One time it even popped out of Tarron's chest and gored him on the spot! I nearly strained a wing, I was laughing so hard!" Brix defied her own terror at the mental image and laughed along as heartily as she could.

"Yeah… You should have heard him cry when we took it from him! Wailing about 'oOh, mUh FaMiLy hEiRlOom or some shit…" she trailed off. "Well, trust Cania to send me here with no word on what I'm doing or who I'm reporting to! Is it always like that here?" The two devils gave each other a look. 

"You have no idea," Flo said with a smile so wide that Brix could count all the razor-like teeth in her mouth. She threw her arm heavily around Brix's shoulder and Brix had to stop herself from gagging. The devil smelled like rotten eggs and petrol. "Go down that hall, then take the first right and you'll find the quartermaster's office. He'll have just the thing for you!"

Behind her, the other demon was choking back tears of laughter. Subtle as a trainwreck, these two. Brix nodded her thanks and made her less-than-merry way down the halls. 

Their directions led to an enormous door. It was covered in intricate wooden carvings that leaked huge gobs of smelly black liquid. From behind it, Brix could have sworn she heard the shrill whine of a dentist's drill. She took one look, quickly decided NOPE and left. 

-- 

When Brix returned to the dungeon, Karlach was already back and mumbling something to Gale. He answered something reassuring and waved Brix over. 

"Whattup?"

"Good to see you back already! Karlach has already procured an anchor to the material plane, and I have received a hint about a reliquary from Avernus," he said. 

"A hint? From where?" Brix asked, mystified. 

"From me! Fastest man within 10 feet!" a loud voice burst from the cell next to Gale. 

"Yes, Skizebrot here has been keeping me company," Gale said with the exhaustion of a dozen insomniacs. 

"I have the knowledge of millenia and the psychic torment of my in-laws!" the crooked-horned devil said happily. 

"Cool. I think I might have found something useful," Brix said, ignoring the newest weirdo in the menagerie. She described the fang in the strange library with all the details she could remember, even down to Flo's macabre anecdote. Gale nodded as she explained and even cracked a smile when she told them how she had played along with the two devils' conversation. The approving gleam in his eye was like a ray of sunshine through trees on a May afternoon.

"Hold on Brix, where did you say this office was?" Karlach said once Brix had finished her account. "Because I've been here for ages and I've never heard of it!" 

It wouldn't be out of the question. Was there perhaps some kind of magical chicanery afoot? Perhaps she had been placed under some hallucination spell. Or maybe the library could switch places. Usually Brix would go for the simplest explanation in cases like this, but what was the simplest explanation in a world that ran on magic rather than logic? The answer, of course, came from their magical expert.

"It could be a safety precaution," Gale said thoughtfully. "Deliberately obscuring the location from certain eyes would not be unheard of. Brix isn't one, by virtue of being, well… not from here."

"But then how did Flo and the other guy find it?" Brix wondered aloud.

"She's a cambion," Karlach answered bitterly. "They always manage to scrounge up special privileges."

"In any case, the fang of a Displacer Beast would be perfect fuel for the arcane ignition, if you can find your way back to it. Its transmigrational properties would of course need to be reworked slightly, but it shouldn't be too difficult with the right alchemical components…"

"Displacer Beast is a delicacy in some parts of Cormyr!" the mad inmate chimed in. "You gotta dry out the intestines first though, otherwise the meat gets all rubbery. So, they're probably being cured in the apothecary upstairs."

"Apothecary, eh?" Gale rubbed his beard.

"You're planning something," Brix said.

"Not planning as such, but it does give me an idea," he said. "It sounds like we have mapped out all the components. Now we just need to collect them all in one spot where I can create the sigil. To which an infernal apothecary would be nearly ideal!"

"Great, so steal the magical thingamajigs, bust you out and then find a pharmacy in Hell. Easy!" Karlach joked darkly.

"Oh, ye of little faith," Gale said in mock offense. "You forget that you are in the presence of Gale of Waterdeep!"

"Trust me, I won't forget," Brix answered cheekily. "You never let us." 

"Ingrates, the lot of you," Gale huffed with the slightest hint of a smile.

"Alright, enough bickering!" Karlach said with the impression of a long-suffering mother with two misbehaving kids. "Brix and I will take care of the fang. That just leaves the last item and getting to the apothecary. Any ideas, Gale?"

"Potentially. Let's just focus on one thing at a time though," Gale answered. "When you do get to the fang, you'll have to bring the entire case back with you. Otherwise it will just displace itself all over the place, and we'll have no way of catching it again." Brix noticed a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and was about to comment on it, but Karlach was already on her way out.

"I'm bloody pissed off at you, by the way!" Karlach scolded her once they were out of earshot. "I served you that wizard on a silver platter and you couldn't even so much as snog him?!"

"Snog?"

"Kiss! Make out! Suck face! Gods! Are all your people so useless!?" 

"Christ on a lamppost! Look, can we just focus on one thing at a time? Then I promise you, I will fuck him till he forgets his own name the next chance I get!" Karlach grumbled something under her breath but let the matter drop. 

Truthfully, Brix had no clue what had happened last night. It could have been the awkwardness following their argument or some kind of misplaced sense of propriety. All she knew was that falling asleep in his arms had been the most intimate thing she had experienced in years. 

His arm had rested on her shoulder as naturally as breathing. The skin on the eerie purple vein leading from his chest up his neck was thin and almost buzzing under her touch. There was an uncanny feeling that she should be scared but neither her head nor her heart seemed to have gotten the memo. Instead she let herself be mesmerized by the sound of his heartbeat. The slow thu-thump - thu-thump beneath the soft fabric of his shirt quieted the voices in her head. Voices that constantly buzzed like static on an old television, except when they were screaming at her, like in Dublin. Gale had managed to silence them. Not by distracting her with conversation or by being louder than they were, but simply by being… Being what? Being magic? Being there? Or being… more?

"This doesn't make any sense…" Karlach stopped in her tracks. As far as Brix could tell they had backtracked down the same route as she had taken on the way from the office to the dungeon. Yet they must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because the corridor they were standing in was completely unfamiliar. Instead of the wattle-and-daub hallways, this corridor looked like it had been carved out of blackened stone. From a distance she could hear a cacophony of voices and clatter of… tableware? 

"Do you know where we are?" Brix asked. 

"Yeah… we're on our way to the mess hall." 

"Hm. Maybe this is what Gale warned us about." Brix said. An idea began to brew, something so stupid that it had very good chances of working. "Do you have some kind of cloth that won't catch fire as soon as you touch it?"

"Hm… a napkin from the mess hall might not be a bad idea. Wait here," she took a few steps down the hall before turning back to Brix. "I mean it. Do not move from this spot or who knows how we'll find each other again!"

It could have been one minute or one hour before she returned. Brix got a terrible shock when she saw her new companion reappear. Apparently tieflings bruised a deep brownish colour, as Karlach was covered in them. She held her jaw tenderly but looked otherwise unbothered. She held out a surprisingly clean napkin and asked Brix if it would work. She nodded and swallowed thickly. If she had known she would be getting Karlach in such trouble she would never have dared to ask. And now her new friend had gotten hurt because of some flighty idea Brix had, that might not even work... Dammit all. I knew I was a shit friend, but this takes the cake... Still, what was done was done. And to back out now just because of some wave of guilt would be a waste of time. Not to mention a waste of Karlach's hard work.

"We'll need to start from the dungeon again. Can you find your way there from this spot?"

Karlach led them back without a word. When they finally arrived back at the stairwell Brix explained her idea. Using the napkin as a blindfold, Brix would lead Karlach to the office. If she couldn't see, she technically couldn't be looking for it. 

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard you say yet. What if someone stops you and asks us what the hells we're doing?"

"We'll just say it's a test of my skills as a jailer. If I fail that test you bash my head in or something!" said Brix. "Besides, do you have a better idea?" The tiefling answered by tying the napkin over her eyes. Karlach held onto her axe by the head and Brix took the handle to lead the way. 

"So who is this captain anyway? Is it the one you mentioned before? Zariel?"

"No, this is some upstart I got assigned to," Karlach said sourly. "I was lent out as a favour to them, so they could get a head start using Zariel's favourite attack dog. Only upside is that Flo got assigned here too."

"I thought you didn't like her?"

"You've met her. Bitch has good jokes." Brix rolled her eyes. We definitely need to get you out of here if that's what you call good jokes… 

They arrived at the right spot without a hitch. Brix took no chances and only let Karlach remove the blindfold once they were at the door. Karlach shook her head in surprise when she saw the door. 

"Can't believe that worked!" she said. To be honest, neither could Brix. The room was untouched - even down to the angle at which the door was slightly open. 

"Will you stand guard here?Then I'll fetch the… why can't I remember the word for fang… thingy." Karlach gave a quick salute and stood ready. Brix glided into the room as silently as she could. 

She made sure not to touch anything around the little shelf, but tip-toed around it, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. If it was such a big deal for Captain What's-his-dick, then it would make sense for him to have some kind of safe-guards…there! Under the base of the cloche was a small gap. And when Brix looked into it, she spotted a thick spring coiled up, ready to pounce. Nice try, my little Jack-in-the-Box!

She gave the cloche a careful nudge. It was heavier than it looked - roughly the weight of her busted-up old laptop. Brix gave her treasure a few more tugs and nudges to gauge its weight and when she was satisfied with her guesstimation, she turned her attention to the rest of her surroundings. 

She picked up a few books, resisting the urge to flip through their pages until she found one that matched the weight of the cloche. Then she grabbed a few worn cushions from the chaise longue, trying to ignore how moist they were to the touch and got to work. As gently as she could she lined it up with the cloche and inched it onto the platform in the world's worst game of Jenga. Outside she could hear Karlach strike up a conversation. Not an overly pleasant one, by the sounds of it, but what else was new.

Brix ignored it for now and held her breath as the cloche finally toppled over, landing on the cushions with a disgusting squelch. If there was one upside to years of smoking, she thought, it was that it had weakened her sense of smell. She was ready to signal to Karlach, but by now the conversation was rapidly turning into a full-blown confrontation. 

"Just what are you trying to say, you little prick?" Karlach demanded. Popping her head out the door, Brix spotted a young man in full plate armour and an unfortunate blonde bowl-cut. The first human man, Brix noted in surprise. 

"Woah there, kids!" she said and placed her hands on her hips. "How am I supposed to go around cleaning the office with all this racket going on?"

"You! Please help me! I was just passing through when this… thing started antagonizing me!"

"You'd better shut your mouth before I punch your teeth down your throat!" Karlach growled. The vents in her shoulder started hissing and her hair glowed like exposed copper wires being heated up. As quickly as it had appeared, the pleading look on the man's face melted away and he looked at Karlach with pure disdain. 

"And there she is… Zariel's rabid attack dog," he sneered. "She might have sent me as your new handler, but I think it's better we just put you down right away!" With that he unsheathed a garishly huge sword and pointed it at Karlach. And then the tiefling exploded. She let out a wild roar and the vents spluttered to life with an angry burst of flames. She brought down her axe, but with a loud clang, the young man parried with his sword. 

What Karlach had in pure force and brute strength, this little bastard had in speedy counterattacks and an apparent immunity to big fuck-you axes. Even when Karlach's axe landed squarely on his shoulder, the little bastard didn't so much as flinch. 

What he didn't have however, was a helmet. And he certainly didn't have a glass cloche which weighed roughly as much as an ancient gamer computer. Without thinking, Brix darted back into the library, grabbed the glass cloche and dashed behind the man. With a roar that in hindsight sounded more like a strangled goat, she bashed the heavy glass case onto the crown of the his head. 

It gave a dull thud, and he flinched, giving Karlach enough time to finish the job. This didn't concern Brix. Because the cloche had bounced off the man's thick skull and landed on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. And the fang blinked out of existence. 

Notes:

Whoo-boy! This chapter kicked my ass six ways to Sunday, BUT WE GOT IT DONE!

Next chapter: Puzzle boxes and pursed lips.

Chapter 12: Logic? You Mean Magic For Losers?

Summary:

In this chapter: Gale has to deal with puzzle boxes and pursed lips.

Gale's companions had evidently failed to be discreet in their theft of the fang of the displacer beast - a fact he was acutely aware of, as the damn thing had suddenly materialized dangerously close to his own nose and was now shoved deep into his pocket. And sure enough, both Brix and Karlach came barrelling down the stairs looking panicked and more than a little embarrassed. 

"Before you say anything," Gale began, unable to keep a twinge of smugness out of his voice. "The fang of the displacer beast is already in my care."

"How did you…" Gale cut Karlach off by producing the fang from his pocket. It was bound in a bluish-tinged cord. 

"This rope is woven from the fibres of the sussur tree. I usually keep it out of the way as it has a rather detrimental effect on my magic. But in this case, it's a quick-fix to keep the fang in one place at a time." He was about to elaborate, when he caught sight of Brix. Her hands were trembling. "Though I can give you the full full dissertation later. The next item on our infernal shopping list is the tether to Avernus. According to Skizebrot, one of the chain-links of Kostchtchie is behind the last door on the -"

"You're coming with us, soldier!" Karlach interrupted. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"No time to explain!" the tiefling said and with a sudden kick, she sent the door screeching off its hinges. Gale shrugged and gingerly stepped out of the cell. Something had happened in their quest for the fang, but they would have to wait to unpack that till they were somewhere safe. Well, safer.

"Very well," he said. "Skizebrot, are you joining us?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm waiting for my co-hosts," his cell-mate said. "But have fun, you crazy kids!"

"Yeah yeah, hail Satan to you too, buddy," Brix answered off-handedly. 

--

They followed Skizebrot's directions and ignored the gargoyle, who anxiously asked them if they had passed any bridges lately. Once they arrived at the so-called treasury, Gale's heart sank. It was in fact just another cell, which had been converted to a makeshift storage unit. Filled to the brim with containers of every size, it looked like it hadn't been used in ages. Neither of his companions seemed to notice or even care about the state of this horde of hellish treasure, as they immediately started rummaging through the various crates and baskets. As the three of them searched through the cell, Gale decided to subtly prod Brix about what had happened with the fang.

"So… what happened with the fang?" 

"We were ambushed. The container broke during the fight," Brix said curtly. 

"Some little fucker called Anders was sent to bully yours truly. Things could have gotten really ugly if Brix hadn't bashed him over the head with that glass case!" Karlach was kind enough to elaborate as she chucked a wooden barrel over her shoulder. Meanwhile Brix pretended to be occupied with searching the drawers of an old broken chest of drawers and refused to look at him. 

"Bashed him over the head…" Gale muttered in disbelief.

"It slipped out of my hands!" Brix groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry - I know you said we had to bring the fang back in its case but this was an emergency!"

"That quick thinking of yours might be more lethal than the fang's original owner!" Gale said with a grin, and nudged her gently with his elbow. "And you needn't be ashamed - we all have contracted some case of butter-fingers at one time or another. I once dropped a priceless Moonshavian vase while experimenting with a new levitation spell…"

Brix's shoulders fell slightly and a slight smile formed on her lips as he recounted the tale of what would have been a spell known throughout the realms as 'Gale's Helping Hand'. They resumed their search through the little storage unit, sorting through empty leather pouches, chests that had already been ransacked and adorned with cobwebs, and other would-be stashes of hellish treasures. 

After a few more anecdotes of youthful shenanigans, Gale finally spotted something promising. A bone-white box stashed underneath a couple of baskets and ramshackle crates. He carefully picked up the little chest and studied it. It was dented and scuffed in places, and covered in Infernal runes, though the handwriting was barely legible. Then again, it might be another aftereffect of his misuse of the Gate-spell. His eyesight was strained more than just a late night reading session. Well, with the rate the orb keeps flaring up, near-sightedness will be the least of my problems, he thought darkly. 

"Karlach?" he asked. "Can you read Infernal?"

"A bit. Why? Do you need something translated?" 

"Interpreted, to be precise. I can read the inscriptions, but the meaning is… obscure. I want to make sure there aren't any coded messages or hidden missives we should be aware of," Gale explained and handed the box to Karlach. 

"Hmm… the handwriting is a bit… wonky, but no codewords I've been shown," she said after inspecting each side of the banged-up little box. "Oh! They're riddles! I have lakes with no water… hang on, what's this word… mountains with no stone and cities with no buildings. What am I?"

"Oh! A map!" Brix answered eagerly. Then: "OW! What the hell? That's the answer!" She rubbed the back of her head tenderly, as if she had been struck by an invisible whip. Before Gale could warn them to proceed with caution, the girls were already on the next one. 

"We can try again," Karlach reassured. "What question can you never answer yes to?" 

"Are you dead?" Brix said as quickly as before. The invisible force punished her again and she yelped: "OW! FUCK! This makes no sense!" 

She had answered the riddles correctly, that much was true. But maybe there was another trick to it, something to do with the damaged appearance of the puzzle-box. But before Gale could properly form his working hypothesis, the two others were trying again.

"I must be broken before you can use me. What am I?" Karlach read. 

"A prisoner." Gale had to test out his theory now, before the two of them got into further trouble. The little box whirred in Karlach's hands and gave a soft click from within. 

"WHAT!?" Karlach and Brix yelled in unison. 

"Karlach, read the next one."

"What has many teeth but can't bite?" 

"Hmm… A dead hellcat?" Gale ventured. This time the whirring noise was slightly louder and there were a series of rapid clicks. "Just as I thought. It's looking for deliberately devilish answers - a cruel spin on old classics, so to speak." His two companions stared at him with eyes wide and mouths agape. Karlach was the first one to gain her bearings again and continued the puzzle.

"What has one eye, but cannot see?" 

"Oh! Oh! A blindfolded cyclops!" Brix said excitedly. The little box sputtered and whizzed about in Karlach's hands, before it finally folded itself open into a much bigger crate than made any sort of spatial sense. 

"Ha! Got one!" she hissed with a triumphant punch in the air. Gale shook his head lightly. Her silly sense of competitiveness was a welcome glint of levity after her downcast return to the dungeon. 

The box itself was stashed with a bunch of random bits and bobs. A few large coins seemingly made of iron, which Karlach immediately swiped, a comb buzzing with infernal Weave, which Gale stashed away for later use, and a pair of oversized orange mittens. Fittingly, the most important piece of treasure was also the plainest. At the bottom of the box was a thick, jagged piece of white metal: The chain-link of Kostchtchie. 

It was much heavier than expected; almost like it was desperately trying to wriggle itself down to the pit where its wearer resided. He handed it to Karlach and placed the box amongst the rest of the discarded treasures. Meanwhile, Brix rifled through some of the other crates and chests. 

"Is this something useful, or should I just leave it here?" she asked as she fished out an entire quest's worth of supplies and equipment bundled up in a small knapsack.

"Oh fuck yeah, soldier! Make sure you bring that with you!" Karlach instructed. "You never know when and where you'll need to set up camp."

"I'll take a look at the contents," Gale offered. "There might be something useful stashed inside, or perhaps something best avoided." As it turned out, there were quite a few prizes among Brix's finds. A few healing potions, a strength potion and two potions of invisibility. 

"That's quite the bounty!" Gale said approvingly. "This should get us up to the apothecary without a hitch." 

"Will you be okay without the disguise?" Brix asked. 

Gale answered her by downing one of the invisibility potions. He took no small satisfaction in watching Brix's eyes widen in surprise and how she frantically looked around the room for him. Truthfully, he didn't need to place himself behind her. He didn't need to get so close that her hair tickled his nose. And he certainly didn't need to whisper in her ear:

"Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you."

"MOTHERFUCKER!" She jumped nearly a foot in the air and Gale had to bite down on his fists in order not to burst into fits of laughter. Karlach made no such attempts.

"He got you good, soldier!" the tiefling gasped between laughter. 

"Fuck the both of you…" Brix whined.

--

Karlach led them to the apothecary while Gale showed Brix how to identify each of the remaining potions. She grumbled at first that he was being very rude trying to point things out while invisible, but eventually she was too engrossed in learning more about the potions at hand. Once she got to the healing potions, Gale insisted that she drank at least one to get on top of their debacle with the puzzle box.

"So this one just cures every kind of injury?" Brix asked sceptically. 

"Correct, though this is a quite mild dose. But it will heal everything from bleeding - external and internal - to burn wounds" Gale explained. Brix shrugged and downed the little bottle in one go. When it took effect, her eyes widened and she muttered something in her to herself. Something along the lines of this place is no joke, if Gale had to venture a guess.

"How do they heal folks where you're from?" Karlach asked. 

"Depends on the injury," Brix answered. "If it's something mild you can… what's that word again… settle on using painkillers. If it's more serious like burn wounds, then you go to hospital for treatment."

"What do they do there, if they don't have magic to patch you up?"

"Not sure."

"Oh come now - false modesty does not suit you!" Gale interjected. "You work at a hospital after all!"

"Yeah, and I told you, I'm not a doctor," she answered crossly. "I just transport patients to and from treatment. Along with blood samples. And laundry…"

"But with all the knowledge you've shared with Karlach and me, surely-" 

"My area of study is not medicine," Brix interrupted him. Then, with a sheepishness that seemed wholly misplaced she added: "It's in history." 

"History, huh?" Karlach asked and gave a low whistle. "Always my worst subject in school. Could never get my head around all the dates and names…"

"Oh but that's only a fraction of it!" Gale chimed in. He was almost beside himself with excitement. It all made sense - her extensive knowledge of Dublin through the ages, her identification of the ruins they had found refuge in, the curiosity and ease of conversations with her - she was a scholar after all! And not just any type of scholar - A historian! "There are so many topics that fall under historical discourse to choose from; revolutions, shifts in climate and their consequences, the political development of different species, and didn't you mention a rather recent plague?"

"This one says strength potion - what does that do?" Brix asked. Her voice was strained and she stared into the air, approximately where Gale stood. 

With her gaze unfocused and her jaw clenched tight, she looked to all the world like the picture of a sinner pleading for mercy from a silent god. He'd only seen the expression on her once before, and with a sinking feeling that rivalled the cavernous pit of the orb's hunger, Gale realized what it meant. She had looked at him with those same surprisingly blue eyes in back Dublin, when she had all but begged him not to ask her about her time there. And now he was practically wrenching the information out of her without sparing a thought to her feelings on the matter. 

He wished she would just tell him what had gone so terribly wrong in that strange place. But then again, he hadn’t exactly been an open book with her either. At least Brix had the good manners not to pressure him into divulging any information he wasn’t ready to share. 

"It boosts one's physical strength," he said with little enthusiasm. They picked up from where they left off with the potions albeit with much less fervour than earlier. Whether Karlach picked up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere was anyone's guess, but she didn't comment any further on the change of subjects.

The apothecary itself lay behind a heavy wooden door and the odour nearly knocked the three intruders over. The pungent smell of herbs, incense and sulphur wafted through the air and threatened to singe Gale's nose hairs clean off. Not exactly the comforting aroma of an apothecary stocked with medicines and remedies, and yet the air crackled ever so slightly with the familiar tingling of magic.

It was built in the shape of a ring around what looked like a giant dead oak tree. Its roots twisted and jutted up all around the room, which acted like pillars, though they looked like they were barely managing to hold the sagging ceiling up. From branches that acted like beams hung cabinets that must have been enchanted somehow, because there was no way that they could balance at such unnatural angles without their contents falling out. Gale approached them to examine their contents further. 

It was certainly a well stocked larder, if a tad messy, but who was he to judge? The cabinets were all filled to the brim with jars, bottles and shakers of every shape and size. Some were made of bone, obsidian or dirty-looking glass and each was brimming with potent infernal magic. Blackened petals that twitched as if alive, vials filled with writhing green smoke, and a jar filled with eyes. Gale stopped at this last batch. Something about those malicious orange pearls was sickeningly familiar… 

He was about to pick up the jar, when he caught sight of Brix, who was preoccupied with something entirely different: the floor. It was made of some kind of stomped white clay and covered in reddish stains. Brix bent down and scraped at the ground with her nails and examined it carefully.

"What've you found, soldier?" Karlach asked. She had been standing guard at the door from the moment they came in, but at Brix's investigation the tiefling had apparently let curiosity get the better of her.

"Sinopia," she said distractedly. When Karlach only replied with a confused look Brix elaborated. "It's a paint made out of a type of red clay. You use it to make sketches or drafts for murals."

She stood up and knitted her brow. "But why would someone make a fresco on the floor," she muttered. Gale looked over the markings and a feeling of recognition bubbled up inside of him. The lines were rough, and in some places they had been gone over with multiple layers of the red paint, but they held the unmistakable geometry and grammar of an experimental abjuration spell.

"They're sigils!" he said. "A rather crude and disorganized attempt, but if I just make a few corrections…" He leaned down to smudge some of the red dye into a more suitable pattern. After a few adjustments he touched the outer ring of the least faded sigil and sure enough, the Weave within it buzzed to life. Angry and jittery, the lines glittered with a poisonous green spark and sped across the floor to an inconspicuous corner of the room, as if to say: whatever you do, don't you dare go poking around in here!

Naturally, the three made their way to poke around in there. As they approached, not only did the smell of herbs grow stronger, the skin on Gale's arms began to tingle. There was no doubt about it, they were getting close to the centre of all magic within this cursed place. Something akin to hope began to bloom in his chest as he examined the wooden panel at the end of the green sparks. There were no traps, arcane or otherwise and with a simple knock, it sprang open and led into what could only be described as an impossibility.

The little courtyard that opened up before them was a square of cracked soil, dotted with glowing embers where nothing should have grown. Yet, from the scorched earth bloomed several grotesque plants. Pale yellow flowers that stretched liver-shaped petals towards the burning sky. Heavy vines that looped in and out of the walls of the courtyards, dripping with something that looked like blue sealing wax. And in the far corner stood a tall, black-barked tree. Gale wouldn't have been surprised if it was the only one in Avernus. 

Its bark looked like a sheet of blackened iron and its spiny leaves were the colour of congealed bloodstains. There was no wind at all, but even so the branches swayed and waved as if the tree stood on an open field on an autumn day. But when Gale took a closer look, he realized with a nauseating sense of foreboding, that the branches weren't waving, but beckoning to him. The sound from the leaves weren't the rustle of a breeze, they were a chorus of dissonant whispers and heavy groans. 

"Gale? What's wrong with that… tree?" Brix asked. She was looking around as if desperately trying to find him. The invisibility potion was bound to wear off soon enough, but in the meantime he couldn't let her be stuck in such a state of obvious trepidation. So before he could stop to consider whether it was appropriate or not, he brushed his hand gently against hers. Just to let her know that he was still there. He did not expect her to instantaneously grab hold of his hand and squeeze it for comfort. Thank goodness she couldn't see his face, he thought as he could feel his eyes widen and his face burn. 

"It's a Gallowroot Tree," he explained, ignoring the sucking feeling in his stomach. "They're exceptionally rare - only being able to grow if watered with the blood of traitors. Luckily for us, they are excellent conductors of magic! Karlach, I'm going to need the anchor you so excellently provided."

Blushing a rich brown, the tiefling produced the anchor: a beat-up old teddy bear, which she had squirrelled with her down to Avernus. Karlach had explained that it was the one reminder of her home, and the affection practically seeped out of the little stuffed toy. She placed it by the trunk of the tree with all the reverence of a sacred relic. From there Gale worked outwards, setting up the sigil circle, with Clive the toy bear as its centre. He explained the steps as he went along, mostly for his own sake, as the two others seemed somewhat distracted. 

"Quick question," Brix suddenly said. "Why isn't there anyone down here?"

"What do you mean?" Gale asked while drawing a ward around the chain-link. 

"You're right, soldier." Karlach gripped her axe and pricked up her ears. "It's been way too quiet down here."

Gale realized with cold dread what they meant. Their quest had not been without challenges, but they had somehow managed to avoid running into a single guard on their way. Though he prided himself on being ever the optimist, even Gale had to recognize that this simply was too good to be true. He suddenly felt the urge to work much quicker than he had before. But no sooner had he bound the Displacer Beast Fang to the chain-link, when all hell broke loose.

Notes:

Remember how Gale is canonically one smart cookie? It was a fun change of pace to actually use that in some D&D-type puzzles and plot-points.
I also had waaay too much fun with finding alternative answers to the classic riddles, and I'd love to hear how you'd answer them in the same vein. Give it a go in the comments!

I have lakes with no water, mountains with no stone and cities with no buildings. What am I?
What question can you never answer yes to?

Next chapter: A couple of close calls and a closed-off cleric!

Chapter 13: Mindflayer? I Hardly Know 'Er!

Summary:

In this chapter: A close call and a closed-off cleric

Notes:

CW: description of burnwounds ("The pain was blinding (...) But it didn't matter. ") and some canon-based bodyhorror ("She watched in horror (...) a long, grey tentacle")

The collective noun for a group of demons is a stampede. Or at least it should have been, Brix decided as she blankly stared at the horde of lolling tongues and clanging swords that stood poised on the threshold of the little garden. Oh look. There's Flo. And Bowl-cut. Nasty bump on his head… Wonder where Ox-man is? She stood in a dream-like daze, barely registering the screams of rage, triumph and pure hatred. Bowl-cut shouted something about the ones that had stolen the fang. Another screeched that the bloody thing had nearly poked his eye out in the mess-hall. It was only when a third voice barked a command in an unknown language, that Brix was shaken out of her stupor.

Before a single claw could cross the threshold, Karlach burst into flames. With a battle cry that overpowered the roar of the horde before her, she charged, great-axe held high.

From out of thin air a glowing dagger appeared, jagged and pale as an icicle. As if he were some ghostly barfly, Gale hurled it like a dart toward a trio of devils. The dagger shattered mid-air, sending shards of icy teeth tearing through the fiends before they could draw their weapons.

Karlach’s axe was a whirlwind of destruction. She cut down a gaggle of the tiny flying demons that had welcomed them to hell. Their tiny severed heads, a nightmarish parody of babies caught mid-tantrum, sailed through the air and their bodies plummeted like rotten fruits from a dying tree. Bowl-cut lunged from behind, sword raised, but the axe-handle bashed into his forehead, and he collapsed with no further fanfare. 

A thunderous boom echoed as Gale’s next spell hurled Ox-man into the jagged wall of the garden. As he began another spell, his invisibility wore off. A smarmy-looking devil with short horns and an elaborately embroidered robe took the opportunity to shoot a barrage of fiery bolts at the now very visible wizard. They hit Gale square in the chest. He staggered, then let out a pained yell as Bathrobe closed the distance between them and plunged a shining blade directly into Gale's thigh.

That was the last straw for Brix. Without thinking, she launched herself at Bathrobe and kicked at the back of his knee. The devil screamed and buckled. Brix hammered both fists down on his exposed neck, but at that moment, Gale’s illusion broke. The deep blue tinge on her hands shimmered and faded into the pale tan of her human self. And the leather strap was around her neck before she could even scream.

"Well, well, well, my little bluebottle!" Flo hissed into her ear. "More to you than meets the eye, huh?"

Then something rolled. Something cracked. And something sent Flo flying backwards. Brix collapsed to the ground gasping for breath. But the oxygen didn’t reach her lungs. Every breath felt like invisible claws. They ripped her throat open and filled her with panic. Noise and pain bound her with iron chains, and she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

And yet from miles away, Gale’s voice still cut through all of it.

“Brix,” he said. His voice was breathless, but miraculously steady. “It's alright."

"Gale?" The raw choking pain in her chest ebbed away, and instead a thick gob of terror wobbled in its place. She could feel the tears prickle behind her eyes, when Gale placed a steadying hand on her back. He was bloody, he was panting, and holy shit, he was magnificent .

"Whatever happens next, I promise I won't let anything happen to you." His smile barely reached his eyes, but goddammit if it wasn't a sight that would rival a cavalry of angels right about now. "But you have to move. You have to keep... ugh!"

He doubled over as the sky broke in half and a whole-ass spaceship flew overhead. A seashell-shaped, tentacle-spewing spaceship. This had to be the final hallucination of her now fully broken mind. She would have burst into laughter, if not for the fact that it was not a hallucination. The ship stirred the horde of devils into an even bigger frenzy, and half of the winged monstrosities took off and started chasing after the ship. 

"No, no, no... not now!" Gale gasped. "Not like this!" His face flushed red while beads of sweat started pearling on his brow. He staggered against the tree and looked like he was going to be sick. Fuck me six ways out of a submarine - not now indeed!

"It's okay, dude!" Brix said and rummaged through her pack. "I'll get you a magic… dims!" Gale  clenched his eyes shut and held his head as if he was having the mother of all migraines. He suddenly looked up, slightly dazed.

"Magic… what?" Gale slurred. "Wh... who are you?" 

His gaze met hers and his expression was eerily familiar. With a lurch, Brix recognized the look of panic and confusion. It was when she had pulled him out of that first portal, on a cold afternoon what seemed like a lifetime ago. And now he was looking at her for answers again, and once again - Brix had none. Not knowing what else to do, she took both his hands and slammed them into the centre of the circle he had crafted for them. With a flash of blinding light, the monstrous tree split open as a black hole with swirling purple edges stretched open like black ink circling a drain. The wizard stared at the portal, then at his hands in silent awe. But there was no time to explain. 

"Okay Gale, whatever happens next, promise me that you'll hold on to me." The wizard nodded hesitantly and gingerly wrapped his arms around her waist. 

Brix turned to Karlach and froze. The tiefling was backed up against the edges of the ritual circle and was drenched in blood and ichor. The flames from within her blazed like tiny bonfires and even her eyes were lit up like torches. 

She looked positively monstrous. 

“Karlach!” Brix screamed. “We’ve gotta go!” At this the tiefling faltered. She turned to look at Brix with a heartbreaking smile.

“I’m sorry, soldier,” she said. “I think this is where you get off.”

“What the… no, grab my hand!” She wrapped one arm around Gale's waist and held out her other hand for Karlach to grab. 

“Brix no! I… I’ll burn you!” she cried.

“NOW!” Brix screamed with a ferocity that dimmed Karlach’s own. Swallowing thickly, the tiefling grabbed the teddy bear from the middle of the circle and took Brix by the wrist. The pain made Brix's vision fade to white. It felt like a vice of molten iron had been clamped onto her arm. The smell of burning hair and seared flesh turned Brix's stomach and she bit her lips hard enough to coat her tongue in blood so she wouldn't scream.

But it didn't matter. They were getting out. So with the last ounce of strength she had, Brix tugged Karlach and Gale into the void. It promptly closed behind with all the finality of a door being slammed shut.

--

Between Karlach's burning hands wrapped tightly around her wrist, Gale crushing her diaphragm, and a pair of small but strong hands yanking at her, Brix thought she’d be ripped in two. It was almost a mercy when they hit sandy gravel face-first - a mercy cut short by Gale’s full body weight slamming onto her. The wind was knocked out of her lungs in an undignified croak. Karlach staggered up and her lip quivered.

"We did it... we got out of Avernus..." She broke into shocked laughter and Brix could swear a sob slipped in. "I can’t believe it! You two lunatics pulled it off! WE pulled it off! And you - that was some aces tugging!"

The last bit was aimed at their saviour - a young woman in strange armour with a long black braid. She didn’t react to Karlach or Brix, but stared at Gale.

"You were on the ship too… But how is that possible?" she said slowly. But he couldn't answer. Before anyone knew what was going on, he was on all fours panting like a sick dog. The girl moved toward him, when they both winced, as if seized by a synchronized headache.

"What the hells?" whispered Karlach.

"It must be the tadpole…" the girl muttered, clutching her temple. Gale didn't get a chance to explain, before he once again gripped his head in agony. His groans grew into an anguished scream. And Brix heard a loud crack from somewhere inside him.

"Gale? Gale, honey, what's wrong?!" Her voice stayed firm, fighting the panic rising in her chest. But no amount of rudimentary medical training had prepared her for this.

She watched in horror as inky blue-black veins bloomed from his eyes, crawled down his face and twisted over his brow. He cried out, as if his skull were splitting open from the pressure. She stumbled, desperate to stop, soothe or do anything at all.

"It's too late," said the girl. "We have to kill him before he transforms!"

"Whoa, girly," said Karlach, hands raised. "What transformation? What’s happening to him?"

"He's about to turn into a mindflayer!" she shouted, lifting a heavy mace. "Get away from him!"

Something snapped in Brix. She lunged. Bleeding, bleary-eyed and unarmed - none of it mattered. No one was touching Gale. But before she could reach the girl, something that looked like an overly complicated Rubix cube flew out of the girl's back pocket. It hovered over Gale, pulsing with a weird red glow, then zipped back to her hand. She dropped her weapon, stunned.

Whatever it was, it worked. The veins faded. Gale’s breath slowed. Brix rushed to him - just in time for him to double over and throw up. Something moved in the puddle of his sickness. A long, Grey tentacle.

"It's alright!" he panted. "The ceremorphosis… it’s been suspended." He tried to stand up, but his voice trailed off and he got a glassy look in his eyes “Oh dear…”

Brix caught him just before he hit the ground and his eyes fluttered shut as he slipped out of consciousness.

"Would someone PLEASE tell me what the fuck is going on?" Karlach snapped. The girl didn’t answer but stuffed the polygon away, her mouth set in a tight line.

"Don't know. Don't care," Brix muttered. "We need a hospital. Or whatever in the name of all the half-dead harlequins counts for one in this fucking place..."

Ignoring the pain in her wrist, she slung Gale onto her shoulders and dug through her pack until she found the three bottles she needed. She gulped the first. It didn't taste... bad, but it did make her think of a strawberry lemonade that had been left in the back of the cupboard for too long. The pain dulled a little. That would have to do.

Next came the strength potion. Not bothering with the implications of magical steroid abuse, she chugged it. This one tasted like cough syrup that had been mixed with old socks. She hoisted Gale in a clumsy fireman's carry with the ease of picking up an Ikea bag filled with last week's laundry. With a quick and bashful apology, she hiked up his robes and hooked her arm under his legs, hand pressing against the wizard’s… thigh.

"Lead the way, Mama K!"

"I'm coming with you," declared Joan of Arch Enemy.

"What?!" snapped Brix. "Why the fuck do you think you're coming?"

"My reasons are my own," she said and Brix’s patience snapped. 

"Oh no you don’t, Princess Panel-beater! You just threatened to kill him! You think I’ll let you tag along? Go kick rocks before I start chucking them, you eyeliner-abusing, fringe-faced fuck-waffle!"

"What's she saying?" the girl asked Karlach.

"I think Brix means no," said Karlach, arms crossed. "And I agree. You can’t threaten our wizard and then invite yourself along, soldier. You’ll need to give us more than that."

"She could drop to her knees and start giving me head, for all the good it'll do her!" Brix spat. "She’s not coming!"

"Listen, I’m sworn to secrecy by my order, but whatever connection he has to that artefact I have to know!" the girl pleaded, gesturing to Gale.

When no one replied and they turned to leave, she went for the Hail Mary.

"And I can heal him."

That stopped Brix in her tracks.

"Fine!" she growled. "But I want answers. A lot of them"

--

They moved through a landscape of sun-bleached stone and crackling undergrowth. The path would vanish here and there, forcing them over exposed roots and craggy rocks. But with sun on their skin and fresh air in their lungs, the trek was almost downright pleasant.

"You never told us your name," Karlach said cheerily to their new tag-along.

"Shadowheart," the girl replied.

"That's a name?" Brix scoffed, still pissed.

"Is 'Bricks'?"

"Brix—'ex', as in ex-cuse me for almost killing you," she corrected. Granted, it was a subtle enough difference that she'd never bothered correcting the Anglicization of her name. But for this little murder-muffin, she would make an exception.

"Brix isn't from here," Karlach added.

"That explains the accent," Shadowheart replied dryly and Brix briefly considered using Gale’s unconscious body as a bludgeoning weapon.

Despite ten years stuck in hell - or one of the hells at least, Karlach proved an excellent guide. She led them with almost supernatural ease, lighting up with joy at every plant and bird they passed. Yet she never wavered in taking charge of their little expedition. Their first goal, she’d said, was shade and water. Then they could scout for settlements or start foraging.

They found a spring bubbling at the foot of a hill, where moss-covered rocks and stout little juniper trees provided patches of shade. The little clearing around it had most likely been used by shepherds or the like, Brix noted. The grass was short and patchy, worn thin by years of hungry herbivores and heavy hooves. Shadowheart pitched her tent in a far corner against a cliff wall. Karlach placed her bivouac beside a clump of stout little bushes, setting her teddy bear at the entrance. When asked, she only grinned and said she had missed being near leaves.

Brix, still carrying Gale, headed to the far side of the clearing, where someone had left a crude lean-to of blue tarp. She gently lowered him beneath the tarp, when Shadowheart appeared beside them. Without so much as waiting for a please or thank you, she placed her hand on Gale's shoulder and murmured something vaguely Latin. A flash of blue light later and Gale exhaled in relief. He still looked like hell, but at least he was conscious. 

She was about to ask what in the sweet coffee beans of Saint Knut had happened, when Shadowheart placed her hand on Brix's burn wound. When she got closer, Brix noticed that her ears came to a soft point at the top. Not as pronounced as Karlach's but close. She was cute too, with a heart-shaped face and vivid green eyes. Even the scar running from her cheek to her nose looked more pretty than painful.

As Shadowheart cast a spell on her, the skin simply knit itself together and the scar tissue lifted off in a puff of blue steam. All that was left on Brix's wrist was a jagged white scar in the unmistakable shape of a hand-print.

"The burns went all the way through the first two layers of skin, but the muscles are undamaged," said Shadowheart apologetically. "I'm afraid the scar is permanent though. And you may have sustained some nerve damage in your forearm."

"Holy shit…" Brix breathed. She wouldn't have to worry about the healing process and rehabilitation, so what did a bit of numbness matter? Shadowheart glanced curiously towards her, but said nothing. She simply nodded and turned back to Gale.

Despite their rocky start, Brix begrudgingly had to admire how professional Shadowheart was. She explained everything: he was suffering from magic fatigue and he would have to rest up for a while, especially with the wound on his leg. She described everything from what medicine they would administer to how Brix could make sure he didn't overheat. There was no berating and no belittlement - not like Vivianne, who treated every instance of ignorance as if it should be a capital offence. Shadowheart was serious and she was patient. Once she was satisfied that Brix had understood her instructions, she left to fix up some medicine.

Brix helped Gale onto the bedroll, tucking her jacket under his head. He was almost unrecognisable. His hair, always so neatly swept back, was now an unruly mess that clung to his forehead. His skin was disturbingly pale, which made the dark lines on his chest stand out more than usual. But his eyes were what troubled Brix the most. Instead of those warm, brown eyes that always seemed to shine with an intense spark of interest or inspiration, they were glassy and distant. She was about to sweep a stray lock of hair from his face, when Shadowheart returned and handed her a flask. "Get him to drink it. Then let him sleep," she instructed, before heading back to the campfire.

“Come on, Gale," Brix said gently. "Drink this and then you can rest. I promise.” He squirmed weakly.

"'m fine…" he slurred. "You don’t need…"

“Shush. I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay awake just a little longer.” She cupped the back of his head and tried to lift him. He winced and slumped down again.

“Gale Dekarios, I swear to fuck, you are drinking this!” she snapped. He whined but finally relented. The change was instant—his eyes focused, and she could have sworn she could see the colour come back into his cheeks..

"Your bedside manner leaves much to be desired," he mumbled with a tired smile.

“I’m used to patients with better manners,” she said, not bothering to hide the relief in her voice. “How do you feel?”

"Like my head's hosting all nine hells at once," he groaned. "But otherwise… fit as a fiddle."

Without a word to critique his piss-poor attempt at lying, she scooted behind him and propped herself against the rock wall. Gale looked ready to protest, but she gently pulled his head to her chest and rubbed firm circles on his temples. He somehow managed to look both utterly agonized and like he had never been more physically content in his entire life. He let out quiet moans of relief as she worked from his temples to his scalp, humming softly as she went.

"Brix?" he murmured drowsily. 

"Mm?"

"Would you teach me your language?" 

"Where did that come from?"

"I want to understand what you're saying… what you're singing."

"Hah, sure. When you're in the mood for another concussion I'll bring out the grammar books," she said. The fever was obviously still making him delirious.  Gradually, his breathing slowed and sighs turned to snores. Even after he drifted off, she kept rubbing his head another half hour before slipping out from beneath him.

At the edge of camp, she knelt by the creek and splashed her face. A cicada droned in the distance. And as if the sound gave her body permission her mind hadn't, she fell apart.

Before she knew it, she was hugging herself tightly and fighting a lonely battle against an onslaught of shaky breaths and falling tears. It all crashed over her like a sudden thunderstorm in summer.

The abduction to Baldur's Gate, and the introduction to pure fucking magic. The return to Dublin, dragging her back to a past self she’d fought so hard to escape. And then the actual escape from an actual hell-scape by the skin of their teeth. It had all been so overwhelming, she hadn’t even realized how fucking terrifying it was. Because Karlach had been there. Gale had been there.

Until he wasn’t.

She didn’t know what had happened to him - only that whatever it was had nearly killed him. And she’d been powerless to stop it. The thought threatened to rip her apart. She clutched the little purple pendant around her neck as if it was the last tether to a fleeting world. Silent sobs wracked her chest, the kind that should’ve come in anguished wails. But there were people nearby. People she could not afford to burden with her problems right now.

So she bit her lip until she tasted blood again.

 

Notes:

Hoo boy this one was a doozy! Originally I had written this chapter before I'd finished the Avernus arc (yes, that's what I'm calling it now - shush!) and the tone was much more light-hearted and humourous. But after having gone through the action beats and tension of the fight scene up top, it just felt out of place. So here - have some angst instead (◔‿◔)

Now for some bad news: Driftwood is going on hiatus. I'm going on honeymoon this week and once I get back I'll need some time to write some buffer chapters. These last couple of chapters were in all honesty a bit rushed out and I'm not entirely satisfied with the result. So to avoid burning out on this little passion project, I'm going to let it simmer for the summer.

Thanks for reading this far! If you have any comments, critiques or ideas for what type of shenanigans these characters get whirled into next, please leave a comment. They mean the world to me.
Love you guys - enjoy the summer!