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adventures-of-the-creeping-bam · 2 years ago

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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 8

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

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CHAPTER EIGHT: KESLA

Lady Sulin Naru is what I’d gently refer to as a distraction. Within the first few minutes of her revealing herself I could tell that I wasn’t the only one immensely struck by her almost unfathomable beauty, I’ve caught Thel examining her with distinct interest since we were all bid to sit down so we could finally start our discussion. Shay too, but I admit her interest seems more like simple curiosity than attraction. Dumoli ain’t immune to the spell either, although I get the impression having Yeslee close by is giving him something to strongly divide his attention, which is interesting in itself. And then there’s Art … well, his interest was entirely expected, it was inevitable really, but there’s no ignoring the fact that he’s not paying any attention to what’s actually being said now, and I’m sure the newcomer is starting to pick up on it. She’d have to be blind or stupid to miss it, and she’s clearly neither …

She looks human, but … no, I’m really not entirely convinced. The fact that she’s revealed herself to be a sorcerer might have something to do with it, but I think there might be something more to it than that. It’s not just her beauty, I’m sure her genuinely palpable presence has a real, as yet unrevealed cause. I’ve noticed Yeslee taking a distinct interest in her too, although in her case it’s clear that she’s just as deeply suspicious as I can’t help being. She says she’s here for our benefit, to help Darion. She says it, but I don’t buy it. Not really. It's just too convenient.

A sorcerer though … that’s a big deal however I look at it. I’ve dealt with other kinds of mages before – thanks to Gael and a few others I knew before her, I’ve become infinitely familiar with wizards, both Order-trained and hedge, and it’s almost impossible to grow up in Rundao without interacting with clerics at least on occasion. I’ve encountered warlocks before too, even before Ashsong, although he was the most powerful I’ve encountered by a very wide margin indeed. There was even a necromancer once, and she was a nasty piece of work, I lost two friends taking her down, but most of the undead I’ve encountered in my life have come through the influence of liches, and those were blessed rare. Druids, on the other hand, come in all shapes and sizes, from tribal shamans to crazy hermits living out in the wilds, but every one that I’ve met in my life had one thing in common – they were just one bad choice away from a very sudden and very wet explosion. I’ve encountered all kinds of magic in my time, so a new kind of practitioner should be nothing new at all.

But a sorcerer … yeah, that’s something a little different. Mages are always born with the potential for magic, if you don’t at least have a touch of the arcane in your blood you have no hope of picking it up, at least without the help of the gods, like clerics. At least that’s how I’ve been led to understand it, mostly through what Gael’s told us. For most it manifests sometime in their childhood, but in others it can take much longer, although there’s also the fact that most of the Silver Order’s ranks tend to come from more privileged backgrounds, either through nobility or the merchant classes. Most hedge wizards tend to be common blood mages the Order checks miss, or more likely simply don’t bother checking. Most of the time without real training or at least the acquisition of some forms of magical book-learning, most of them don’t graduate much past simple tricks, or end up devolving into druids when they give in to the influence of wild magic. The rest tends to follow a very predictable path.

Sorcerers are something special. A sorcerer is a mage who is born with truly massive magical potential, so much that the magic lives in their very bones, in every fibre of their being. They always develop their talents at the onset of their adolescence, but their potential is so strong that they require no learning to master their gifts, somehow their will is so inherently powerful the wild magic just obeys their very whims. This means they can master impressively complex spells with almost no prior knowledge, and achieve their effects without the use of incantations, sigils or components. They’re walking, talking contradictions to the core rules of magic itself, Gael’s precious mantra that you cannot get something in exchange for nothing.

As you can imagine, this has always made them a particularly consternating fact of life for the Silver Order, who hold such a strict monopoly on keeping magic under safe control. It’s likely quite the relief to them, then, that sorcerers are such a rarity, a birth coming maybe once or twice in a generation, or not at all. Gael says there’s a bunch of theories about it, some believing that only the seventh child of a seventh child can become a sorcerer, although this has never been proven to be more than an anecdote. Given that I’ve known plenty of people who come from big families where lots of kids tend to run in the bloodlines, I find that one highly doubtful. Unless the Murphins have been keeping one particularly big secret since I known ‘em.

Whatever it is, their rarity is probably a good thing. Some sorcerers are forces for good, but many more have gone to the bad side in a major way over the ages since the Sundering, enough that they’ve developed a less than savoury reputation over the years. So the fact she claims to be on good terms with one of the most legendary wizards to ever graduate from the Silver Order’s Academy should put me at ease. If she’s being truthful, at least. The problem is Gael doesn’t know her, doesn’t know her name.

But Daste does, she vouches for her. That should put me at ease too, but something’s rubbing me up the wrong way about her, I just can’t put my finger on it.

As Daste’s assistant Sirsk finishes handing out more cups of that indecently gorgeous tea, Naru stirs her own cup gently with her spoon, but her eyes are on Gael now. I’ve noticed her looking at our young half-elf wizard a lot since we were all introduced, actually, her ongoing interest definitely not dulled by the matters at hand. As we’ve been talking, some pleasantries quickly dispensed with so we could get down to the meat after bringing Madame Daste and Lady Naru up to speed on what we’ve discovered, she’s spent as much time asking after Gael, probing her with questions about herself. How she’s been since leaving the Academy, how she’s finding things out here in the wide world. The fact that she recently died ain’t been broached yet, but I’m somewhat curious to see what hr reaction might be. Something about the way she’s being so gentle and yet so curiously insistent in her questions … I dunno, I don’t feel like anything untoward, somehow I see something else in her eyes when she looks at Gael. Almost like a genuine, deep fondness. As if she’s already known her for years even though they’ve just met.

Instead of taking a sip of my own tea, I pick up one of the sugary little biscuits that’s been set on my saucer and dunk it for a few moments, trusting its integrity’s good enough at least that I can give it a cautious swirl to sweeten the tea. “So, Madame Daste, you wanted to see us, and I’m sure it wasn’t just that your fancy friend here wanted to meet us too, or just so you could get an update on our progress.”

“Of course.” Daste clears her throat as she sets her own cup down on the saucer, notably without the shot of liquor she had in hers last time, I noticed. “Master Sonagh is making a recovery.”

Shay sits up at that, and I’ll admit I’m a little heartened to see it. I remember how she was after the incident in his home last week, and more after seeing his children’s reactions to his grievous injuries. It was instantly clear that Shay was projecting onto them in that moment, seeing both herself and her young friend Tarrow in it. Poor kid … he really didn’t deserve what happened to him. It brought it all back to her, I saw. “He’s awake?”

“He is. He’s still got a ways to go, I’m told. Apparently the poison was a particularly nasty one, it caused Brigid’s healers quite a lot of trouble in their attempts to mend the damage. He’ll be at the temple for another week, it looks like, but they’re keeping him safe, and apparently the twins have won the staff over admirably too.”

“Good.” Shay manages a little chuckle there, and I know she’s remembering how boisterous Sonagh’s son and daughter were when we met them. “Brigid’s temple, that’s … yeah, we had dealings with them back in Hocknar, a few times in the past. They love kids. They’ll be fine there.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll have a ball there.” I recover the biscuit from the tea, and it’s clearly a strong one cuz it’s held together well. I lift it carefully to my mouth and pop the whole thing in.

“Sonagh asked after you all as well, actually. I went by this morning, before setting this meeting, so I could talk to him personally.” Daste picks up her cup again. “It seemed more prudent given our security concerns, I knew nothing I said would be overheard. But I wanted to see him as well. I’ve grown quite fond of that old orc in our dealings.”

I swallow the mouthful, regarding her for a moment as she takes a sip. “What’d he have to say?”

“Well, he imparted the relevant information about your newfound partners in the investigation, but since you’d already made contact with them on your own that wound up as something of a moot point. Given what happened to him, though, it was clear enough to me that his life and his children are at risk now too, so I’ve advised him to stay at the temple beyond his recovery.”

“That’s smart, I would’ve given him the same advice.” Picking up the spoon now, I give the tea a little stir to put the added sweetness to work. “Things have gotten pretty complicated now, though. After what happened the other night I can’t help wondering how much longer they’ll try an’ keep this discreet.”

“Having had similar thoughts, I charged a detachment of townsguard militia to keep an eye on the place.” She frowns at the collection of rightfully dubious looks from round the table. “No need to be concerned, I used one of my most trusted contacts in the guard, they’re all handpicked officers he vouches for, and they’ll be most discreet. Sonagh will be safe enough for now, at least.”

“Besides, I’d imagine their attentions are directed elsewhere right now.” Naru muses before gently blowing on her own tea. Taking a sip, she looks my way again. “Mmm … I take it you’re interested in this angle involving the tavern owner?”

“Jammund?” I shoot a look to Gael, who’s frowning a touch now, then try Thel, and I realise she’s managing to look past the beauty now as her own defences have come up. “Probably. You know anything about him?

“Not personally, but I’ve heard the name on occasion. He’s something of a small local legend here, once upon a time he was quite the hellraiser. That was before the Provisional crackdown, though. I’m sure you know something about that, it came around the same time as the end of the rebellion.”

I can’t help it, I blink without even thinking. She’s so pristine as she looks at me, there’s an element of butter-wouldn’t-melt, but I ain’t convinced. “That was a while back.”

“Of course. But sometimes there’s opportunity in chaos. You’ve entertained the possibility that he’s still in the smuggling game, of course, but now you suspect there’s a darker agenda behind it. You mentioned something about a possible warlock?”

“That was entirely a guess, but there’s enough evidence to shore up the theory.” Gael answers her, although they shoot me a look immediately after to check if I’m all right with their voicing this opinion. “Some of the magic this wizard used was certainly very strange, and potentially eldritch. Some of it also seemed in keeping with similar magic we recently encountered.”

Shay clears her throat very loudly, and I look her way as well as Gael as they realise they almost gave away a bigger piece of the puzzle than might’ve been smart. It’s too late, though. Naru’s definitely too sharp. “How so?”

All right, this could actually sort the question out once and for all. “Well, we had a run-in with an unusually powerful warlock about a month back. We were on the Order’s clock at the time, and this particular threat used to be a person of great import there. Y’know Darion, then you’ll know he had a particular mentor when he was at the Academy, right?”

I’m watching Naru close now, but just through the corner of my eye I’m sure I see Gael sit forward, frowning again as they open their mouth but then just close it as they get on my page. The sorcerer simply cocks a bow, still focused on me. “Ashsong? I heard he was dead. Years ago. Long before any of you were born.” She smiles a little. “Well, most of you. Present company notwithstanding, Big Man.”

“No exception is taken, Lady Naru.” comes Big Man’s inevitable rumble from where he’s still stood at the far end of the table. “I only became operational again very recently.”

Well, that’s somewhat definitive. “Rumours of Master Ashsong’s death were sadly incorrect. Bastard pulled a fast one on the Order, or ‘least that’s what it looks like. Got himself a sponsor somewhere up North.”

“Tektehrans?” Her frown is surprisingly subtle, barely marking her face at all, I notice. Clearly she’s not someone who lines easily, since I’m getting the distinct impression now she’s a lot older than she looks. Maybe it’s a sorcerer thing.

“No, that would’ve been easy. Bit further than that.”

Her brows arch again as the implication sinks in, and she pauses for a long moment, thinking now, while her frown returns, deeper now as she looks down at the table. “The Night Lands? That’s … worrying.”

“The bastard’s dead now, thankfully.” Shay growls, and I’m not even remotely surprised to hear the cold, lingering hatred in her words. When I look her way I’m no more surprised to see how pale her knuckles are now as she grips both her fists. “So’s the thing that came with him. After a fashion.”

Naru looks up now, her eyes fixing right on Shay, and there’s a cautious darkness in them now, I can see. “Fuck … there was a Shade?”

This time it’s Yeslee that I see shift through the corner of my eye, and I can’t help looking her way while a cold silence descends upon the group. Nothing’s said for a long moment, and when I look her way the way she’s looking at Naru is something I almost never see in Yes – she looks genuinely rattled. She shoots a look my way and opens her mouth, but she don’t seem too keen on talking either when she closes it again.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What the fuck’s a Shade?”

Naru watches me for a beat, and that darkness is still there behind her eyes. That’s a hell of a haunted look, it doesn’t age her but somehow I can still see how many years she’s got under her belt now. She’s not a young woman, it turned out, at the very least she’s travelled far and seen a whole lot. Not all of it good, clearly. “It’s … never really been made clear to anyone, really. It’s a thing in human form. Wearing a constructed body, it’s not really flesh and blood, as far as any of us can work out it’s more like some form of will made manifest.” She sighs. “It’s hard to explain. But you said it was killed?”

“Like I said, after a fashion.” Shay growls “When Ashsong died, it died too. Just went away in a puff of … well, not smoke exactly, but …”

“It was most fearful of Holy Light.” Krakka rasps from where he’s barely able to put his elbows up on the table in his own chair, clearly ultimately content to just let his beak rest on his folded hands. “The glory of My Lady seemed to cause it genuine distress. I had imbued Kesla’s blades with the strength of her Holy Will, and when she attacked it with them this … creature shied from their light.”

“It’s most likely that the Shade simply lost its corporeal form when its tether was severed by Ashsong’s death. I doubt it actually died.” Naru looks down at her tea now, picking up the cup but not raising it to her lips. Instead she simply frowns into its depths. “Of course, this is all pure conjecture. There’s no proof that eldritch magic comes from the Night Lands or the influence of Shades, any more than necromancers or the undead, but there’s the possibility. Just because there’s another warlock doesn’t automatically mean that there’s a shade, or that this man Jammund may be under its influence.”

“The magic was remarkably similar, though.” Gael admits.

“Perhaps.” Naru looks their way again, finally taking a sip as she watches them over the rim of the cup. Again there’s that regard, so loaded. “I imagine it was quite the battle when you took Ashsong down. He was an incredibly powerful wizard even before he found such monstrous patrons. I expect your victory came at some cost.”

When I look at Shay I see her knuckles tighten more, her jaw going very stiff now, and I know she’s reliving that desperate fight in the bowels of Heldereth. “Yeah, he … he didn’t go down easy, we lost some friends. Including Gael.”

Naru chokes on her second sip, she’s genuinely shocked. As she splutters her eyes go straight to Gael, wide and desperate now, and suddenly I reckon I’m actually seeing her, not the façade she’s put up. “You died? But … your father –”

Gael’s genuinely wincing this time as they protest: “I got better!” Repeating what’s becoming a familiar mantra. “Krakka fixed me, his goddess brough me back. Shay helped. And it wasn’t like I planned for it to happen, it was a fight. I was trying to protect my friends, and make sure he didn’t do something horrible.” The look they shoot at me is so mad, I swear they’re genuinely furious at me for letting that slip.

“And I’m sure your father would be proud of you, but you still died.” Naru’s frown is deep now, and again I see some of her age starting to show again. It’s a strange thing, like some strange optical effect, I can’t help wondering if perhaps the perfect face we see most of the time might be at least partly some kind of strange projection. “Gods, you’re more like him than I ever thought would be possible.”

That brings Gael up short, and they watch her for a long beat, their frustration slipping away quickly as obvious curiosity takes hold. “What are you … you mean he’s died before?”

“Twice, at least that I know of.” Naru takes a deep breath and puts her cup back down as she smooths her expression, becoming serene and perfectly youthful once more, but I’m sure I detect a little rueful annoyance boiling underneath now. “That bloody fool … he’s a wonderful, inspiring man, and a good friend, but … gods, he has a talent for getting himself into trouble sometimes. It’s almost like it just seeks him out on occasion. And he refuses to let anyone else take the big risks, he’s always the first to jump into the dragon’s mouth if it means protecting someone else. The last time he died it was a curse meant for me, he just threw me out of the way and took the bolt full in the face himself. If we hadn’t had a cleric of Rao with us I would have lost him.”

“That’s … well, I’m sorry, then.” Gael’s grown quite flushed again, but they’re not so crestfallen now as they were, at least. “To all of you.”

“Oh, no …” Naru sighs again, offering up a commiserating smile. “No, it’s quite all right. He can be so infuriating, sometimes, but … he’s the kindest man I know, and he can be so sweet. And he’s loyal to a fault, at times. It’s impossible not to love a man like that. It’s just sobering to discover that … his child is so very much like he is.”

The way she keeps looking at Gael’s starting to make sense, now. I don’t know what Darion’s really like, but if he looks as much like ‘em as his personality clearly matches, then I’m starting to suspect it must be like looking at a particularly striking copy of him. I’m convinced that Naru genuinely knows him now, and it’s become fundamentally clear she’s as fond of him as we are of our own young wizard.

“They are.” I can’t help it, the words just slip out, and when Gael blinks at me I just look right back, unashamed by what I’m saying now. “We love ‘em very much, so I suspect you’re on the money there.”

Gael opens their mouth to speak but again their words fail them. Shay’s not sat quite close enough to them to give ‘em a hug, so instead she just reaches over and gives their shoulder a good reassuring squeeze.

The silence lasts for a few moments, but it’s comfortable now, and I think many of the group are just relieved now, because at least now we know we can trust this Lady Naru after all, since she’s undeniably a friend of Darion Foxtail. I chance a look at Yeslee, but it seems she’s not much more relaxed than she was before, but then it’s nothing new. She’s never that comfortable in this kind of environment even when she’s in a good mood. Mostly she just seems deeply thoughtful now.

“Well, it’s clear that Jammund’s definitely our next point of focus, but we’re really just talking ourselves round in circles.” Tulen surprises us all in the simple, matter of fact way she’s just voiced that opinion, but she ain’t wrong. “We still don’t have a next move.”

“Bloody true …” I mutter, picking up my cup now and giving it a little whiff. Strong, just like before, evocative. I take a little sip, and it’s not so hot now, comfortable enough for my lips, but also the sweetening of the sugar from the biscuit seems to have mellowed the taste some. “Mmmm … it’s true, like I said we know he’s definitely of interest cuz that little bitch is there with him, means that big bitch is somewhere close by, or ‘least he’s got a connection to her somewhere in this messy mix. I dunno …” I put the cup down, picking up one of the remaining biscuits now, but not dunking it yet. “It’s tenuous, I reckon. We don’t know exactly how he’s mixed up in this. You say he’s still in the smuggling game, but then Darwyn said he’s s’posed to be retired now, ‘least that’s how it seems to most o’ the people know him. Unless it’s more that he’s … what’s the word? Facilitating, right? That’s what he’s doing. Just opening the roads up for somebody else to do the smuggling instead. I mean, he’d still have the contacts from before, all he’d really have to do is send whoever it is to the right people.”

“But then …” Darwyn frowns, looking like somebody just shat in her teacup as she flounders even worse than Krakka in her seat, all I can really see of her is her head poking up above the tabletop. “That’s worse, though. I mean, that would mean it’s somebody ain’t even known to us. Which would just put us right back where we started.”

“Not necessarily.” Daste’s playing with her cup now, her fingers curled around it as she gently turns it a few inches in one direction and then back the other way, over and over, looking down into it with a thoughtful air. “There are eyes on those docks all the time, very powerful eyes. This is the number one port in all of Rundao, it may not be the capitol but in some key ways it’s a far more important city than Tabaphic. Those docks are more than a business hub, they’re a lifeline for this country. The people who control it can be very powerful, so of course they bear watching very closely.”

“By who?” I give her a cool look. “The townsguard? No offence, I know they’re your purview but y’know how it goes. Half of ‘em are bent as a corkscrew.”

“Oh no, you know well enough, I’ve made it clear enough already that I have my own resources I place a good deal more trust in than that.” She lets go of her cup now, lacing her fingers together on the table in front of her instead. “The docks are the purview of others, but I’ve made it my business to keep an eye on their affairs just as, I suspect, certain other individuals have.” She turns to look at Darwyn now as she says that, and I’m sure she catches the meaning as well as I do.

“You mean somebody else in the Authority might be involved?” I shoot a look at Naru, who’s just watching her good friend in the local government with a cocked brow and a cool look. “Like who? I seem to remember you saying there were more’n a few slimy buggers bore keeping a close eye on. Anybody in particular occur?”

“More than one, certainly.” Naru muses “The problem is that they’re all of them so used to conniving there’d be no way to tell relatively legitimate attempts at exploiting their position from any genuine treachery.” She looks to Daste, who ponders for a moment, then just nods to her. “There are some names in particular, though, that occur. At least one who merits strong consideration.”

Nodding myself, I look at Darwyn again, wondering if she’s considering the same possibilities. Thanks to her deep ties to her boss, Cobb, she’s got a decent enough idea of the inner workings of the Authority she could probably come to the same conclusions herself … probably better, in some ways. If Cobb does still have the kind of tight grip on what happens in Untermer’s criminal underworld as he’s s’posed to, then he’ll know well enough about these naughty little extra sources of income certain officials enjoy. Means she does too. When she looks up she catches my eye, and she holds my gaze for an electric moment, making me suspect she knows that I know.

“Sounds like something’s definitely worth looking into. Might be smart if you gave us a rundown to where to look, and how to go about it.”

“Yes, I think advice there would be prudent.” The way Tulen says that tells me she’s desperate to ram the point home, especially to me as she looks my way. “Digging in that particular direction could be … sensitive.”

“Oh, we can do sensitive when we need to.” I smile at her, and I can’t help a little menace sneaking into the way I say it. Art snorts, failing to restrain a chuckle, and I shoot him a look.

Daste frowns a little at that. “I should hope so. I can’t have you making waves in the Authority, even if you are here on official business from the Order. Even if some of my colleagues are wrapped up in this, it would be very bad for me to be seen to be poking my nose where it’s not permitted. I go to great lengths to keep the poking I do as much under the table as I can.”

“Thankfully I don’t usually have to worry about that.” Naru smiles, and it’s pretty sly. There’s something almost predatory about it, in fact, which takes me by surprise. “If I opened a few doors for them, it might make things go a little smoother.”

“Might be smart.” In the end I don’t bother dunking my biscuit, instead just taking a bite from it and chewing for a thoughtful moment, then swallowing as I come to my conclusion. “Could be we could approach this from a few different angles at once. Reckon it’s time we tried to get something outta one of the other leads we got going for us.”

“What you on about, boss?” Art frowns, his own cup now hovering forgotten just under his chin in both hands. “I thought this was all we had left to go with.”

Turning to Thel, I look her over for a moment. When she notices my attention she looks back and starts frowning, as if preparing to question my sudden interest. “Gael, you still got that hanky? The one with the blood on it?”

Thel’s frown deepens a touch while Gael starts rummaging through their components bag now, then it starts to smooth out as she raises one brow, realisation clearly dawning now. “Ah. Yeah, that’s right.”

“Yes, it’s here.” Gael lifts the roughly bundled piece of stained linen as they close the flap of their satchel again. They’re frowning too now as they turn to me. “But I don’t understand, I thought we’d decided this was beyond a long shot.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I turn back to Thel. “You did say he got away the other night.”

“I did, yeah.” Thel’s frown returns now, and I can see the fires of vengeance starting to burn behind her eyes now. “Little shit … oh yeah. Definitely. Gimme a chance to finish that once and for all.”

“Cept we want him alive, remember? You’re welcome to run him down however you want, but we need him fit for questioning when we do get hold of him.”

“Course.” Thel shrugs, letting go a little sigh, but I can see a little smile starting to form now too. “At this point I’ll take him any way I can get him.”

“Good.” I look down at my hands for a moment, and as I ponder I idly drum my fingers on the tabletop. “All right, here’s how we’re gonna do this. Two groups again, like the other day, but we’re gonna be careful about it this time. Gael, Tulen, either o’ you got a clever spell that’s anything like what Big Man can do? Y’know, that …” I frown, turning back to Driver 8. “What is it you call it again, your sense thing?”

“My intermediate proximity security sensors, to give it the full designation.”

“Gods, no wonder I can never remember it.” I mutter, but I can’t help smiling a little, it’s a little funny sometimes how wonderfully matter-of-fact he makes this all seem. “Yeah, that. Like I said, either one o’ you got anything works like it?”

Gael frowns too, looking across at Tulen, who’s starting to mirror her expression. They both consider for a long moment, then Gael finally snaps their fingers, somewhat startling their friend from their own reverie. “Olsbeq’s Awareness Augment?”

Tulen winces, seeming genuinely offended. “Minerva, please no. That always made me feel so awful when we tried to perform it in classes. It gives me the worst vertigo, not to mention the paranoia. And doesn’t it hurt your ears?”

Cocking of their fine dark brows, Gael simply smiles. “You just have to work on filtering what you want to take in over everything else, so you don’t get overwhelmed.” They look to me. “I can do it.”

“That’s that settled then. I’m gonna send you with one group, you’ll be going with Shay and Thel. ‘Fact it’s probably best that it is you, since you got the hanky. You’re gonna go hunt down this Tog, but I want you all to be bloody careful about it, all right?”

The young half-elf nods their assent, while Shay and Thel exchange a look. “Sure thing, but …” Shay frowns. “I take it you’re in the other group with Big Man and whoever else. What are you doing?”

I turn to Naru now, who instantly cocks her own brow when I start to smile. “We’re gonna shake some trees.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 3 chapter 8 #fantasy fiction #original fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 4 months ago

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On My Knees

Love Bites, Chapter 8 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Word Count: 2,360 words

Warnings: return to chp. 1 timeline, in-game timeline, reader becomes a vampire spawn, brief flashback, captured by Mindflayers, Astarion is vulnerable but also honest, confessions, Sebastian's back

Note: My apologies, I'm a day late! I had some technical difficulties yesterday but now we're back and almost done with Love Bites.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

“You screamed well into the morning. None of us slept. My siblings, they…offered me their blankets. It was the first time they had been kind to me in…a very long time.” Astarion fidgeted with his fingers, his voice thick with tears as he wrapped up his story. The spawn in the cage stayed quiet, listening intently, some wearing wicked, wicked smiles. “And we planned. They helped me sneak out when night fell so I could— So I could go to my grave.” He looked up at you for the first time in a very long time. “He buried you there. In my coffin.”

Bits and pieces of your memory came back to you. “Yes… Yes, he did, I remember— I remember so much. It was… Dark. Cold. Dirty. But I smelled…you.”

~❊~

The air was musty. It reeked of death, more strongly than the sickhouses during a plague. Your eyes burned when you opened them. You tried not to breathe, then realized after several moments of holding your breath, you didn’t need to. There was no pain in your lungs. You weren’t lightheaded from trying to hold your breath.

“What?” you whispered to yourself. Your lips tugged around two identical objects in your mouth, teeth that you knew had not been there all your life.

Your eyes adjusted to the space slowly, but you knew from just a few experimental wiggles the place was cramped and tiny. It didn’t take long for you to recognize the smell of your lover or the appearance of your surroundings, lined in soft red velvet; you’d help pick the coffin yourself, all those years ago. It was Astarion’s.

You whimpered, the panic starting to set in. “Asty? Where are you?” You could smell him, all around you, even under the terrible scent of earth and bodily fluids and death and embalming fluids.

You had no heartbeat, but you were sure you could hear it pounding in your ears, screaming, Out, out, out! You began scratching at the coffin lid and realized there were already claw marks there, ripping the velvet and gouging the wood beneath. You were not the first to have crawled out of here.

If Asty could do it, so can I, you told yourself and began kicking the lid. It didn’t take long for it to crack open, the latch already broken. You wedged it open slowly, clawing handfuls of dirt out of the way until you could make way for yourself.

It was slow going, digging your way out of grave dirt. It was fresh and not packed down yet, which was your only advantage to get yourself out. It clung to you like summer heat, worming its way into your clothes, your ears, your mouth. You worked through the panic that built up inside you, getting worse the longer it took.

After what felt like hours—what probably was hours—your hand broke the surface. You nearly cried with relief and forced the hole to widen until you could pull yourself out, grappling with more loose dirt and very little for leverage.

Your head came up through the hole and you took your first deep breath in ages, only to start coughing. You hacked up blood and dirt, your entire body heaving with the effort. You trembled more terribly than you had on the day you’d learned Astarion had died as you finally freed yourself from the grave. You turned to face the stone as you dry-heaved. Sure enough, Astarion’s name was carved into it.

“You got out faster than he did,” a nasty voice said and you surged your feet, whirling and reaching for your knife. It wasn’t there. You stumbled forward, your body catching up to your exhaustion before your mind did. A black-haired elf stood before you and smiled sardonically. Cazador. “The only weapons you have now are in your mouth, dear child.”

Instinctively, you ran your tongue across your teeth and hissed as your new fangs sliced your tongue open. The tang of your own blood did nothing but make you aware of the pulsing, needy hunger curling in your gut.

Memories came flooding back. Astarion, in your tavern, a vampire. Sleeping with him. Going back to Cazador with him. The pain of the bite that turned you. Attempting to run—being snatched up by Cazador and brought into the pit of the palace. Thousands upon thousands of spawn kept inside cages, jeering at you, watching you, giving you enough strength to try to fight back. Smiling defiantly at the vampire who promised you pain, even as you cried at the sound of Astarion’s sobs from so far above you. Darkness finally overtaking you as your body gave into the bite, the blood drained from your veins, your bones rearranging themselves, knitting together your new vampiric body.

“Get away from me,” you spat, stumbling away from him.

Cazador laughed. “Where will you go, little one? No one can save you now. Not now that you are this. You are mine.”

You heard a shout. Cazador stopped, turning to search for its origin. Another shout, this time your name, this time clearly Astarion’s voice.

“Do not meddle, boy,” Cazador warned, raising his voice in the direction of the shout.

A hand touched your shoulder. You looked, knowing you would see Astarion the moment you felt his touch. Cazador remained blissfully unaware that his spawn had already reached you.

Astarion offered you his hand. You glanced back at your maker once, then slipped your hand into his. The two of you took off running.

Cazador let out a shout, but neither of you heeded. You left the cemetery behind and began running through the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where do we go?” you demanded, impressed by how much faster you were now, even without blood.

“Anywhere,” Astarion said, glancing at you. “You wanted to run? Now we are. Just don’t stop until the city’s behind us.”

“How did you find me?” you asked.

He flashed you a fangy grin. “Dalyria. She helped me sneak past Godey.”

“She helped? Why?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

The sky above you opened up. You both stopped short, staring up at the massive ship that had come through the rip in the world.

“Come back here!” Cazador’s shout rang through the street. He was still some distance away, but he was gaining on you.

You tugged on Astarion’s arm. “Honey, we have to go.”

Astarion was staring at something just ahead of you. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

You turned and something with tentacles for a face grabbed your head. You screamed as, once again, the world went dark.

~❊~

The rest was a blank, until you woke up on the beach with Astarion leaning over you, but the rest of your companions had filled you in. After you’d blacked out, you’d been put in a pod and a tadpole was forced into your head. Some part of you had always been glad you’d had no memory of that—but if you had remembered it, would you have also remembered everything else?

You looked up at Astarion, who was nervously chewing his lower lip, his fang peeking out. You felt your own fang with your tongue. He did this to me.

You took a step backward, putting distance between him and yourself. You saw his heart break in the way his eyes began to water.

“It was you? You brought me to Cazador? You’re why I’m like this?” You felt short of breath, your chest tight, your head spinning: the beginnings of a panic attack your body remembered from its time alive—which was much more recent than Astarion had been telling you.

“Darling, I had to,” he whispered. “You told me to. You begged me to bring you to him so I wouldn’t get hurt!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you hissed. “You didn’t have to tell the others, you could have fed them the same story you told me about keeping me safe from Cazador for two hundred years. But why me? Why did you lie to me about how I was turned?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. But there was more to it than that. He was afraid, afraid because he was vulnerable in front of too many people, afraid because you were slowly backing away from him.

“I couldn’t tell you, darling, you wouldn’t have believed me—”

“No more lies, Astarion,” you snapped. “Tell me the truth! Why did you lie?”

His lower lip trembled. “Because I was scared, alright? I saw the fear on your face on the beach and it—it looked like the fear in your eyes when I brought you to Cazador. You were already afraid. Of me! I… I didn’t want to make it worse. I didn’t want you to hate me when you were all I had. I was—” His eyes dropped briefly to the floor. Then he looked back up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. You knew they were real. “I was scared you’d stake me for what I did to you the first chance you got. Worse, I was scared you’d leave me.”

You studied his face. As you looked at him, your anger began to fade. Death scares him less than losing me. “Astarion…”

He dropped to his knees, clearly expecting more rage. He trembled as he kept explaining, “I had already been without you for long enough. I didn’t want to do it again, I was scared that you’d forget me the way I—the way I forgot you. I was selfish, darling, I was so selfish because I didn’t want to do what you had to do for two hundred years and remember and love and ache when it wasn’t returned. So I lied. And I lied well. I made up story after story and you believed them so much they were becoming your memories. Anything else was just a bad dream to you and I let you believe that! It was easier to dismiss your real memories as nightmares than confess what really happened. That’s why I did it. Because it was easy.” He sniffled and roughly wiped away his tears with his wrist. “You can hate me all you want, but I am going to be selfish even more and I am going to beg you to stay. Hate me for the next two hundred years but please, please don’t leave me.”

And Astarion remained kneeling on the ground, shaking, waiting for you to speak. No one—not the other spawn or your companions—dared speak or move.

Then you knelt in front of him and gently cupped his cheek in your hand, coaxing his head up. “Astarion… I don’t hate you, honey. I don’t. I…I understand. I’m not upset that you did what I asked you to do, I just…I wish you had told me the truth about it. I don’t like it, but I understand it. And I forgive you.”

The tension in the room shifted. Astarion stared at you with those wide, wet eyes of his, clearly caught off guard as much as, if not more than, your companions.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I let him turn you into a spawn! I let him make you the same abomination as me, as my siblings, as all these poor souls that had the misfortune of meeting me!”

You kissed the top of his head. “Meeting you was never misfortune,” you said to him. “Not in our lives. Not in your undeath. Not in mine.”

Astarion gripped your hand desperately. “Why?” he pleaded.

“Two hundred years are not easily shaken in six months,” you said softly, reminding him of a conversation you had already had about his instinctive need to seduce and manipulate you when he already had you. “I cannot blame you for any of your lies when I know why you have said them. You told me yourself, it’s instinctive. That you wanted protection. You couldn’t have known how I would have reacted if you told me the truth when I woke up, I’m not even sure of that. There was no promise that I would protect you then.” I squeezed his hand gently. “But I’m going to protect you now. I swear it.”

He shook his head, but he held your hand tightly as if he was still afraid of you leaving him, the bones in your fingers grinding from the pressure. “I’m… I’m not sure I’m worth protecting—”

“You are,” you said, cutting him off without a second thought.

“Why protect me after what I did to you?”

Your heart broke. “Can’t you see? Oh, honey, it’s because I love you! I knew what I was getting myself into then, even if I didn’t remember it for so long. It’s not your fault I insisted, you even gave me several ways out.” You stood and pulled him up with you. “Come on, up you get. We’ve still got work to do, remember?”

Astarion dusted himself off as he got off the ground. He looked at you tenderly, his eyes soft. “Thank you,” he whispered.

From the cage, Sebastian cleared his throat petulantly. The bubble that had kept your focus on Astarion popped.

“Tender,” he drawled, “but foolish, trusting him again.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said, shrugging. “You’ll see, when we free you all.”

Astarion pulled a face. “Are you sure we can?”

You glanced back at Sebastian. “You said I fought back, right? And that was without a tadpole, when I was still a thrall.” You turned back to Astarion. “He can’t control either of us anymore. If anyone can kill him, it’s us.”

Slowly, Astarion nodded. “I… Yes. We can. Together.”

Sebastian drew closer to the cage’s bars. He held them as he murmured, “Maybe you will do it. Gods help us if you don’t, though.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you learned the gods don’t listen to the likes of us?”

“Boys,” you chided, before Sebastian could snap back. You glanced at your other companions. “Is everybody ready?” They nodded and, at last, Astarion nodded, too.

You offered him your hand. “Now, let’s go kill our maker, shall we?”

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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