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kudzuoath · 9 months

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Arcane Hunger

Gale falls into the Underdark. Thankfully, Odette is insane enough to try and catch him. Even if he happened to be a corpse at the time.

Takes place not long after this

The first breath hurt.

It burned through him, turning his lungs into candle wicks. A pulse of hellish heat in the very center of his being as every nerve ending woke up and began screaming. He was aware of blood, that his face was slick with it, his hair sticking together in horrible tacky clumps. And there was a chill sensation just below his sternum where the skin felt too tight. And, of course, yet more blood.

Gale gasped in his second breath.

This one was less like breathing in an inferno. His body was starting to heat up again as his heart furiously made up for lost time.

The ringing in his ears was starting to fade, too. And he realized his eyes had rolled back at some point. It took conscious effort to focus, to lift his head from the blood-slick stone below him. Someone was calling his name. There we hands on him, grip tight enough that it might have hurt under other circumstances.

“ – Up, damn it, Gale, I followed you convoluted bastard instructions –”

He blinked his eyes clear to see the furious face of the party’s Paladin above him. Her teeth were barred in a grimace that showed off her fangs, her eyes wide and burning like purple flames, pupils gone to the narrowest of slits. Blood was smeared across her face and soaked into her hair turning it from navy to purple. Her hands were fisted in the fabric of his robes, at the shoulders. In one he noted a very familiar flute.

Oh.

“Gale!”

“Y’did’t,” he slurred, tongue still too numb in his mouth. “M’word, ha!” His head fell back again, a ragged little laugh pouring out of him. Relief curled around the agony. And gods, her hands were so hot in the moment they felt like fire. He wanted to pull her on top of him and leech her warmth. Anything to make him feel less like a corpse.

(How did Astarion stand this chill?)

Odette wilted over him, breath ragged. Gale’s limbs weren’t quite working right, but he managed to aim a few clumsy pats at her shoulder.

“This never should have happened,” she muttered into his robes. “You shouldn’t have died.”

It came back to him then.

The phase spider matriarch. One moment in her webbing, the next just behind him and dragging him with her through the planes. To her nest. All her young tearing at him. How easily her foreleg punched through him – a needle through the fabric of his flesh and bone. The web unraveling beneath his feet as the world went gray and indistinct around him. It hadn’t even hurt, really. More been… cold. Vaguely nauseating.

There was a faint impression in his mind of Odette’s hand snatching at his forearm. Mirroring the way they’d met. Only this time…

“My hands are still numb so that handshake will have to wait,” he said, voice cracked and hoarse.

The paladin straightened, hand over her eyes. And Gale sat up – still a little unsteady – and took in their surroundings.

Still underground. To their left was a sheer, rocky wall that extended high into the darkness above. To the right, yet more rocky shelves that descended further into the depths. Their only illumination came from a cluster of blue, faintly glowing crystals, and the flames flickering along the naked blade of Odette’s greatsword. The only scent in the air was the copper of their blood, and something like damp stone and a good deal of water somewhere out in the darkness below them.

“Well, not exactly the locale I expected to wake in,” he commented. “Though I rather didn’t expect much waking at all, if I’m honest. Those pincers were more on my mind at the moment than seeing another sunrise!”

Odette huffed, drawing his gaze. Her hands were tight fists in the fabric of her tabard. “As if I would leave you a damn corpse when there was another option at hand.”

“Nevertheless – I must thank you,” he said, placing one hand on his heart and bowing over it. His head spun a little at the movement. And his soul felt a little raw at her words. Of course he had his contingencies – but he’d always imagined them being seen by a stranger. “It is a relief to be back on beautiful Faerun again! Though I suspect beautiful is not often the first word to come to mind for the place we’ve found ourselves… which is – ?”

“We fell a long way,” she said quietly, following his gaze when it drifted upwards. “I’m not entirely sure where we are. Aside from, well… down.”

“I’d place my bets on the Underdark,” he said, stroking the edge of his beard. It was distressingly sticky with his own blood. Evil, evil texture. But if he focused on that he might manage to ignore the spine chilling terror of what could have happened had Odette not sought out his corpse.

Then again… perhaps she ought not have. The Underdark may well have been the best option. Would result in fewer casualties when the inevitable finally came to pass. He already knew he had no hope of survival. That his first little parasite would swallow him whole sooner or later. And with the tadpole, it would likely be sooner. Maybe an amendment to his after death projection was in order.

He was drawn back to himself when Odette tried to climb to her feet – only to stagger and let out a strangled sound of pain.

His gaze snapped to her in an instant, and he noted the way she was curled over her left leg, fisted hands still shaking. Her lips had gone nearly white, and her eyes were pinpricks of purple in a sea of black. The aforementioned leg was bent at the knee so her foot wasn’t on the ground, and even with her boots on he could see that ankle had swollen to the size of a grapefruit.

“I don’t suppose,” she grit out, “You happen to have any healing spells in your repertoire?”

Gale winced. “Unfortunately my set of skills lay firmly in the school of evocation. And even if they did not, I’m currently about as magical as a man under the oppressive dome of a silence spell. Something I think we have in common, given that you’re asking me?”

A grimace as her eyes shot to him. He watched a muscle tick in her jaw. She huffed out air through her nose in what seemed to him a pointless effort to keep her sounds of pain unuttered. He winced again. Wishing he did know a little healing.

“I’m tapped out too,” she said, carefully lowering herself back to the ground.

“Well if the Underdark has us in its grim clutches, we’re lucky we’ve nothing worse than a broken ankle between us,” he said, trying for cheer. Gods but she was in for a terrible time when she could heal again. Spells of that nature were a relief as much as they were a torment. “With those spiders and our descent it’s a miracle we’ve survived. Well – you survived. Having been a corpse at the time I imagine I didn’t count.”

He opened and closed his hands a few times, wincing. Pins and needles were assailing him on all fronts. Better, at least, than the burning. Given a little time, he’d be right as rain.

“Survived for now.” Her voice had always been hoarse, but now it was ragged and thin. “You have no spells. I’ve been lamed. We’re in the Underdark. And the others probably think we’re both dead.”

“Now don’t go and give up on us now,” he said, raising a finger. “So long as we’re breathing we still have a chance at getting ourselves sorted. Just because our Gith’yanki friend is unlikely to mount a search and rescue doesn’t mean the others won't! If nothing else, Astarion will miss his meal ticket and mention his lack around one of our more… generous companions back at camp. ”

Odette snorted. “You’re never going to let me live feeding Astarion down, are you?”

His aim to distract had worked. Because of course it had. The art of conversation came to him as naturally as the weave, after all.

“You must admit it is a most unusual reaction from a Paladin. Or anyone with a modicum of sense. There is such a thing as being too generous, you know.”

She looked down at her hands, frowning. The blood on them was starting to flake away from her skin as it dried. “Perhaps I know how it feels to be blamed for something that was never your choice.”

His stomach dropped, but he pressed on, injecting a little humor in his tone. “You aren’t going to reveal that you’re a vampire too, hm? I’m not certain any of us can take a second creature of the night skulking about in search of a midnight snack.”

Odette gave him a withering look. “Clever wizard, do try to keep in mind who you’re talking to.” And, apparently not trusting him to catch on, her tail hooked around his calf and squeezed.

Truly, he must have recovered, as quite a lot of blood was suddenly in his face. He’d been too long alone in his tower. His skills were atrophied to an unforgivable degree. “Ah, well. Yes. That is – rather a good point. Though tieflings – you, well. You don’t have the same reputation as vampire’s, precisely.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the rock wall with her arms folded. A movement that made her grimace again. “How much do you know of tieflings, Gale of Waterdeep?”

His rather grandiose and self appointed ‘title’ sounded more mocking than respectful in that moment. Even though her voice remained perfectly even.

He opened his mouth to answer her question – then closed it again as he fully considered how his knowledge might sound. He was studied enough to recognize that books were indeed fallible – biased. And it occurred to him that what he knew might sound somewhat… inflammatory.

“It’s my understanding that tieflings came about as the result of an ancient pact with Asmodeus? Though I’ll admit I haven’t met very many. ‘Why do you exist’ seems a rather rude topic for polite discussion – even amongst academics.”

Nor one that particularly interested him, truth be told. May as well ask a deep gnome why they were short. They’d likely come back asking why you were so tall, come to think.

“You know more than most. I shouldn’t be surprised. Let's see, then. Did you know not all tieflings are born from tieflings?” She paused, and turned her gaze out into the dark. “My parents were both human.”

“Ah… I see.” And he did. Certain connections forged themselves. Painted a picture. Blamed for things that weren’t your choice… he could have kicked himself. “More recent infernal pacts would have the same affect as the historical one?”

She nodded. “So it would seem.”

Questions burned on the tip of his tongue. But Gale swallowed them. “Please accept my sincerest apologies. I’ve made an ass of myself. I would blame it on spending some time in the fugue plane but in this case it’s merely my own atrophied wit.”

Odette sighed and began carefully combing dried blood from her hair with one hand. A futile endeavor – even if the blood on her skin was more or less dry. “My hackles were up already. I know you were just teasing about Astarion.”

“Even so,” he insisted.

She sent him a sidelong glance, then nodded. “Accepted.”

For several minutes they sat in silence, if not stillness. Odette kept wincing and shifting with clear discomfort. At the cold, hard rock beneath them as much as the broken bone, he imagined. They both were well aware that their only option for the moment was staying put. Though not necessarily until someone came to rescue them.

He was a fair amount taller than she was, if not stronger. He could possibly function as a sort of crutch? And so long as they only needed to climb down and not up…

No. Better to wait. Let her rest long enough to regain her ability to heal.

“Were I in your position,” he said after a while. “I would be entirely consumed with questions. In regards to my projection’s dire warnings.”

She tilted her head, eyes tired. “Oh believe me, I am. Are you planning on answering any of them?”

He cleared his throat. “Well – that depends on what you decide to ask. You would be correct in guessing I have precious few answers to spare – I apologize if I sound thankless. It’s just that some secrets simply cannot be revealed.”

Silence again, save the distant sound of dripping water. He couldn’t help but glance at her every few seconds. The line of her throat as her head fell back, and she sighed. Her eyes closed. Her body language – tired. Not hostile. For now.

And yet, the silence felt more like an acid bath.

“What’s one more secret amongst friends?” she said. “You’re in good company, between Shadowheart, and Astarion. So. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Gobsmacked. He found himself staring at her openly, mind gone entirely blank. “That’s… well. That’s very kind of you. If the roles were reversed I don’t know if I’d have your patience.”

She leaned toward him conspiratorially, smiling. Not the subtle one he’d spotted on occasion. But one that turned her eyes into half moons and entirely changed the planes of her face. It made her look softer. Younger. Made his heart skip a beat to see it directed at himself.

“I’m not a wizard. My curiosity is well tempered with patience.”

“A – ah, a virtue few enough among us have embraced,” he agreed. “I must ask, though – should I perish again you must bring me back. Not for myself, you understand. But for the sake of many.”

Odette searched his face. And whatever she found there must have satisfied her. She straightened,her smile replaced with seriousness. “You have my oath.”

This was the second time she’d given it since they’d met. First to Zevlor, now to him. And just like in the grove, he felt the warmth of the sun sink into his skin. Strange, so far beneath the earth. Pleasant in a way both like, and unlike his communing with Mystra. Her’s was a pleasantly cool touch. Just on the edge of a dream…

“I thought of a question you can answer,” Odette said, drawing him out of his daydream before it could truly start.

“It's the very least I can do to oblige you, dear lady. Ask your question.”

“K’ha’ssji’trach’ash? Is that the same magma mephit you mentioned meeting as a child?”

“You’ve a stellar memory on you!” he praised. And not merely because she’d still retained the name. His heart once more leaped. And there was a soft, glowing warmth under his ribs that he wanted to shelter. A silly reaction to such a small thing. And yet. “He is indeed the very same.”

Odette ducked her head and smiled into her hand. “Does he only speak Ignan? Or was that just for the show?”

“Ah, you caught on, did you? I find as a wizard that theatrics are quite helpful in encouraging an average bystander to action and attention. For fear of finding themselves caught up in a nasty curse, if nothing else.”

“I think if you like you could have made the whole thing difficult instead of just convoluted. So? Does he speak common?”

“As a matter of fact he does. And a good thing too –I wasn’t nearly so well versed in Ignan then as I am now. Though he certainly didn’t make it known he understood me until after the housekeeper fainted dead away. He’s a mischievous scamp. I have the impression he enjoyed the screams of terror. Or maybe they were screams of outrage, considering all the damage he caused and the housekeeper in question.”

“Going by your stories, you seem to enjoy causing a little chaos yourself.”

“I have been known to be something of a disturber of the peace,” he admitted. “Though never simply for the sake of it. Well, rarely simply for the sake of it. When chaos comes knocking it’s often only because I went knocking at the doors keeping me from some answer or another. Curiosity is both a boon and a curse! All told, I much prefer a warm fire, a glass of wine and a good book to raising hells these days.”

“Sounds peaceful.”

“Lucky as I am to have met such interesting and all together heroic traveling companions as yourself – I miss my tower back in Waterdeep.”

Odette smiled at him again, though this time it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s something to look forward to when all of this is over. A place to go back to.”

A place warded to within an inch of eternity, mostly. While the comforts would be welcome, he would only have so long to appreciate them.

“Say we all live through all this,” he said. “Say we’ve saved the day and ejected our uninvited illithid passengers through no doubt daring acts of courage and the outfoxing of whatever mysteries lay waiting at the heart of our shared woes. Where will you go?”

She shrugged.

Gale waited for her to elaborate. But it seemed the gesture was all the answer she had to give.

“Surely there must be something?” he pressed.

“I suppose I could go back to Neverwinter?” she ventured, one eyebrow going up. “Or maybe I’ll stay in Baldur’s Gate. It seems likely we’ll end up there before anywhere else. Even if Halsin has a cure.”

“If you aren’t returning home perhaps you should venture to Waterdeep. I am being completely unbiased when I tell you there has never been a finer city. Oh, you should see the libraries! And the Temple of Beauty! A luxury few can deny themselves once they’ve experienced it for the first time. What I wouldn’t give for an honest bath…”

“Maybe you can show me around, then,” she said in a considerably brighter tone. “Outside of Neverwinter and Elturel when I was very small, I’ve never been to the other cities on the Sword Coast.”

“I will gladly introduce you to all the City of Splendors has to offer! Quite a bit more than just myself, though I like to think I make an excellent impression on its behalf. Our first stop ought to be the aforementioned Temple of Beauty. Something to sooth away the discomforts of the road, I should think.”

“I’d like that,” she said, grimacing and picking at her bloodied hair again. “Smelling like something other than dirt and blood would be a treat.”

“If it’s any consolation, you wear both things quite… quite well.”

“That’ll be the concussion talking,” she said dryly. “So – first this temple of beauty. What next?”

“The Heroes Garden in the Sea Ward, certainly,” he mused. “It’s a lovely place to spend an afternoon – and there are no shortage of adventurers telling tales to enthralled children and passersby alike! I imagine we’d have our own tales to tell by then. Ah, and if we’re in the Garden I’ll have to show you the school there – Tower of Yintros! Many a Wizard cut their teeth on their first cantrips in its gloried halls. Though it’s not half so impressive as Blackstaff, where naturally I spent my own youth.”

“Oh, naturally,” she laughed.

“Then –”

Reality sliced into him as the orb opened one eye and whet its teeth on the underside of his ribs. The castles he was building in the sky collapsed. What was he saying? Why was he making plans?

“Then the… the…”

His bones prickled. Like they’d grown teeth as well.

Not now.

As it always did, it got worse. Burrowing through the bone. Ripping and tearing and burning all in its path as it sought its freedom.

Gale took a deep breath – or rather he tried. It felt as if his lungs were only an inch deep. He grit his teeth. Of course he’d known it was on the horizon. It was why he’d spoken to Odette about it the evening past. But less than an hour ago he’d been dead.

Perhaps that was why the hunger had awakened.

Even so. It was too much to ask.

The blasted orb didn’t care if it was a good time, however. He imagined the thing was laughing at him. Gods, why hadn’t he kept a ring or an amulet on his person? He’d planned for his premature death, but not for being extracted from his tower like a rotten tooth.

“Gale?” Odette had moved at some point so she was kneeling awkwardly in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

Before he could swallow it, an agonized groan fought past his clenched teeth, and he doubled over. Clutching ineffectually at his chest. As if he could hold his fragile mortal flesh together. As if the orb couldn’t burn through his hands just as easily as it burned through his ribcage.

When had he fallen over? When had he closed his eyes?

“I’m afraid I must ask another favor of you,” he gasped. “My condition – it’s rather impatiently reminding me of how little it likes being ignored. I need a magical item. Now.”

Odette swore. He was distantly aware of movement.

She can’t even run away at the moment, he thought.

It felt as if at any moment his skin might split and begin crackling merrily. Like kindling. And then the little beast would win the day after all, and consume not just him, but Odette and every living thing for miles around them.

When was the last time it had been this bad?

Her hand on the side of his face drawing him out of his private miseries. “Hey, look at me. I need you to answer a few questions.”

“Is now really the time to indulge your curiosity?”

“We have one weapon between us and I need to know if taking its magic is going to destroy it or not,” she said.

“It should still function as a blade,” he wheezed. Then, pathetically, his voice cracking under the strain he said, “Please. Help me.”

Her eyes scanned his face. Searching. Then squeezed shut. He watched her lip curl. “Should isn’t good enough.”

Gale’s heart stopped. She’d given her word, her oath. And yet now she hesitated. “A sword – no matter how magical – is a very poor shield against what will happen should you –”

“Hush,” she snapped, pulling off her gloves.

Normal gloves, he would point out. Why she was shedding them – but then he saw her reach up and unfasten her earrings. He’d noted the weave in those crescent moons the day they met. They hummed with an embroidered masterpiece of magic. Old, settled so deeply into the item the two were as intertwined as thunder and lightning, one would not be without the other.

She put them both in his hand and closed his fingers around them, face startling blank. “Here.”

The night before she’d offered her sword before she had her earrings. Something about that struck him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t follow the thread of knowing with his firstborn passenger throwing a tantrum.

“Thank you,” he breathed, and held the tiny moons to his heart.

It was like a mouth opened inside him. A mouth leading to such endless black, hunger – it unhinged its eldritch jaws and swallowed the weave whole. He felt every moment of that mote of magic unraveling. Casting a cooling calm over his writhing soul. Moment by moment his muscles unknotted. His lungs filled with sweet air. And the pain was mercifully absent. As far away as it ever was.

He let out a long sigh of pure relief.

When he opened his hand, all that remained of the earrings was a fine silver powder that twinkled faintly in the blue light of the crystals. He stared at it for several seconds. Unwilling to witness whatever expression Odette was wearing.

“Seems I made the right choice,” she said quietly.

The edge of disappointment in her tone made him want to cringe. He pushed himself up off the freezing stone instead, feeling a touch dramatic for his reactions. Even if they’d been entirely beyond his control at the time.

“Those earrings were… important to you, I gather,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she agreed. And as was her wont, did not elaborate.

Considering his own secrecy, he was hardly in a position to pry. All the same, Gale wished she would tell him. Wished there was something, anything he might do in return for her. But he had nothing but his own sorry skin, and that would be poor compensation indeed.

“When we get back to camp,” he said after a few moments. “I will prepare for you the best meal that can possibly be crafted over a cookfire.”

A bland smile. Her eyes were shuttered. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. I want to. And I have scarce else to offer much as I may wish to.”

Odette scooted back against the rock wall, careful to keep her bad ankle from dragging. “Someday, you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you. I imagine it’s quite the tale.”

He wouldn’t. Not before the exact moment it was needful.

Gods, if she was disappointed now, he could only imagine what she might look and sound like if she ever found out the truth. If any of them ever found out. It was a shame best kept between himself and Tara.

And Mystra, of course.

“Stick close, would you?”

When he looked up, she was holding a hand out to him. Her eyes were worried, but her smile seemed more real again. Something he didn’t deserve.

“Ah, of course. It wouldn’t do to play at the wandering wizard just now.”

He took her hand and sat once more by her side. Close enough to feel her warmth. And, as he watched, she lifted her other hand and murmured a snatch of infernal. Brighter blue light flared, flames danced over her skin. Almost playfully – though he knew if he tried to touch it the fire would burn him. This flame was only tamed for her.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Odette explained. “A little more light can’t hurt.”

“I think a little light will go a long way.”

#bg3 #gale #gale bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale dekarios #odette crier #my writing #gale angsting #gale and odette would NOT stop talking

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