Chapter Text

The cumbersome wooden gate rose too slowly for Tali’s liking, and she ground her teeth as it creaked open. Her compatriots scrambled up behind her, wheezing and coughing. The sprint back from the Blighted Village had not been as easy for them as it had been for her, especially spent as they were from their prior owlbear encounter.

As soon as the gate was open enough to allow her, Tali ducked her horned head and darted under it. Gale let out a dismayed groan, and Lae’zel muttered something under her breath. Still, they both followed.

Tali stalked through the Emerald Grove, passing druids and refugees alike with the same heedless haste. Her eyes never left the path ahead, but instead of the Grove, she only saw the bridge to Moonhaven. She saw the bodies strewn at its end where adventurers had made a desperate final stand, and had been cut down despite their efforts. One member of the mercenary band in the Grove, Remira, had said something about a man charging back to face the horde, and now Tali knew that man's face.

She saw other corpses, too, but those were far in the past. She saw them whenever injustice and insult fanned the divine flames that flickered and sputtered in the back of her mind. They mattered only as a reminder, a whip on the back to keep her moving in the right direction. But they were a painful reminder.

Tali did her best to shake off the distant memory and focus on the fresh dead. She took the slope down to the mercenaries’ tent so quickly that she almost ran right over Remira.

“Oi, watch it!” the human woman shouted.

Ignoring her, Tali strode onto the creaking wooden platform the mercenaries had claimed as their space. She approached the table where Barth and Aradin sat, and they looked up in alarm as she drew a spare sword from its scabbard.

“It’s that ‘fighting foulblood’ again,” Barth said, rising from his seat. His hand went to his own weapon.

Tali held the sword upright and turned to Aradin. He was less perturbed than Barth, but his eyes remained wary.

“You again,” he muttered. “Ain’t you got a kitten or something to save?”

“You’ll find most kittens can save themselves,” Tali said. “Don’t you have friends to avenge?” She reversed the sword and offered him the hilt.

Aradin eyed it, and now his distrust was mingled with confusion. He scoffed. “Avenge? You really are off your rocker.”

“Are you not the leader of this crew? You have a duty to protect them–-and failing that, a duty to honor their deaths.”

“What, by dying too?”

Tali ran a finger along the blade. “By taking up this sword, which once belonged to a man who charged a goblin horde to save you, and by cutting down his slayers in turn.”

“I’m a treasure hunter, not a monster hunter.” Aradin waved her away. “Bugger off, tiefling. I meant it when I said I wasn’t trying to start shite, so let us be.”

The sound of Gale clearing his throat reminded Tali that her companions were still right behind her.

“There may be no changing this man’s mind,” the wizard suggested. “Perhaps we are better off fighting other battles, hm?”

But the fire behind Tali’s eyes burned hotter, her rage a heady high that bordered on an ache. She spared Gale a glance before returning her full attention to Aradin.

“You fled,” she said coldly. “When retreat becomes necessary, it becomes equally necessary afterwards to--”

“To cut your losses.” Aradin finally stood up, not quite matching her height. “He signed up for a dangerous job. Not my fault if he didn’t mind the risks.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You think I don’t care about my crew? Think about the ones that did get out. I’ve got to get them back to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Let them go to Baldur’s Gate, then–-while you come with me.”

That earned a derisive laugh. “Get lost.”

“If you are a leader, you must redeem your honor.”

“Didn’t have any to begin with.” He turned and started to walk away.

The divine fury blazed white-hot, and the edges of Tali’s vision began fading. Her rage focused on the back of Aradin’s head, a new target, but one she didn’t want to–-couldn’t afford to–-pierce. A man who abandoned his own did not deserve a final chance, but a summary execution would not be expedient, not here, not now. Tali rolled her eyes back, meditating on the righteous anger from which she drew her power, and laced her next words with oath-born magic.

“FACE ME.”

Aradin stumbled, as if stopped by an unseen barrier. He strained against the invisible restraints of Tali’s magic, but his will was too weak. It did not matter what he wanted; his body moved, twisting around obediently to face her.

“Godsdamned devil!” Barth cried.

Tali barely heard him. Likewise, she barely heard the words of power muttered by Gale and the rasp of Lae’zel’s sword leaving its scabbard. She trusted that they would keep Aradin’s inferiors at bay while she dealt with him.

“Your measly crew cannot stand against mine,” she declared. “Rather convenient that you left the others for dead.”

The taunt combined with magical compulsion finally broke through Aradin’s composed moroseness. His eye twitched, and his muscles tensed–this time to his command, not hers.

Tali threw the dead man’s sword between them. “Prove yourself.”

Aradin darted forward, taking up the sword and in the same motion sweeping the blade in a smooth underhand swing. Tali sidestepped, then twirled away when the sword flashed at her again. She drew her greatsword from its sheath on her back.

If the sight of the weapon daunted him, Aradin didn’t show it. His face remained fixed in a snarl. None of his attacks connected, but they came relentlessly. The dead man’s sword sliced the air in arc after arc, and as soon as one swing missed, another followed.

Just as it often blinded her, Tali’s fury also gave her clarity. She remained on the defensive, eyeing her opponent for gaps in his defense. It quickly became obvious that he, like Tali, was accustomed to a heavier weapon; he put too much force into each swing, rendering the lightweight sword imprecise and wearing himself out to no avail.

Tali remained just within his reach, taunting him with her proximity. Every time the blade neared her, she backed out of its path, letting it graze the air next to her. She was practically and almost literally running circles around him. The divine rage was impatient, but for the moment it was satisfied to wait in anticipation of the decisive blow she knew she was about to deliver.

The opening came. Aradin overcommitted to an overhand slash, and instead of dodging, Tali stepped into the attack. She batted the blade aside with her vambrace, hooked her ankle behind his, and slammed the pommel of her greatsword into his forehead. He reeled, and Tali swept his feet out from under him. He hit the wooden planks with a heavy thud and a creak.

Tali set her boot on his wrist and glared down at him. At first he made no movement to get up or keep fighting; he only lay on the floor wheezing for breath, blinking up with unfocused eyes.

“Disappointing,” Tali muttered. “You’ve learned to fight, but you lack focus and restraint.”

Aradin tightened his grip on his hilt and tried to pull his hand from under her foot. She leaned more of her weight on that leg, keeping his arm pinned.

Grimacing, Aradin rolled onto his side to move his sword to his non-dominant hand. If executed by a fresher fighter, the move might have been quick enough to break through Tali’s defenses. As it was, she needed only to bring her own sword down. He aimed at the back of her leg, but the sword glanced off the flat of her interposed blade. She slammed her other foot on his free arm, bringing it to the floor and sending the sword clattering aside.

Standing astride her fallen foe, Tali reversed her grip on the greatsword so it pointed directly down at Aradin’s throat. A bruise was beginning to form on his forehead, blood soaked into his curls, and his breaths came short and heavy.

“You let your sword slip through your fingers,” Tali said, “just like your men.”

She raised the sword high. It was never a pleasure to kill a defeated foe, but she always finished her work.

“NO!”

The voice was Remira’s. Tali raised her eyes in time to see the arrow but not in time to get out of its path. It pierced her shoulder, punching through armor, skin, and bone alike. Tali gasped and staggered back from the impact.

Aradin took that moment to wriggle out from under her and lunged for his fallen sword. He’d righted himself by the time Tali did the same.

“Gods!” Tali cursed. “Lae’zel! I thought you had her!” She cast her eyes around, looking for her companions.

The sight dismayed her. Barth’s skin was red in places where he’d been grazed by firebolts, but he stood tall. Gale, on the other hand, knelt on the ground in front of him, hands folded behind his bleeding head. Lae’zel crouched several meters behind Remira, panting, the shattered remains of a spent health vial at her feet. Remira had a large gash on her leg, but she was steady enough to nock another arrow and level it at Tali.

“Look at that,” Aradin said dryly. “You must have left ‘em to their own devices.”

Tali looked back at him. He was slightly bent, still breathing hard, but nothing in his bearing spoke of surrender. He wiped the blood from his forehead before it could leak into his eye. He met her gaze and tried to stand a little straighter.

“You’re outnumbered now, devil,” he said, raising his sword. “You started this. Come finish it.”

Tali looked between him and the other mercenaries. The arrow was lodged in her right shoulder, and she knew it would keep her from fighting effectively if it stayed there. But more than the pain, something about the arrow felt strange.

Loyalty.

That was it. Remira had turned her back on Lae’zel–who, though injured, was still an active combatant–to try to save her leader. Why would she do that? Aradin was the type of leader who left his people behind if it meant his own survival; what in his underwhelming stature, ineloquent speech, and callous pragmatism inspired loyalty? What had Tali missed?

The burning in her mind subsided, and Tali slowly lowered her greatsword. “I… surrender.”

“Damn right,” Barth muttered. “Hey boss, what do I do with the wizard?”

“Hold your horses,” Remira snapped. “This foulblood’s still standing. What do we do about her?”

Tali eyed Aradin cautiously. She raised a hand to her shoulder and plucked the arrow from her flesh.

“Well?” she said as blood began to pour down her chest.

“Well what?” Aradin said. “Go on, do what I said, and bugger off.”

Tali pressed her palm against the oozing wound. The rage had subsided, and she channeled another form of divine magic into her body. The gaping hole in her shoulder scabbed, then healed over, and the pain faded. She raised up her sword again, only to sheathe it. She tipped her head to Aradin.

“Your people prove you better than you prove yourself,” she remarked.

“We held our own at the gate, didn’t we?” he said. “We don’t start fights. We survive ‘em.”

“I… I understand.” Tali frowned. Something about him still confused her, but she could not decipher what. “I will not kill you today.”

Aradin gave a short, wry chuckle. “Bet you won’t. Barth, Remira, if these loons ever come ‘round again, don’t hesitate to shoot.”

“You got it,” Remira said.

Tali moved to Gale’s side, and Barth backed away so she could help him up. She found a contusion and a minor laceration, both of which she dispelled with her healing magic. Lae’zel came to join them, eyeing the mercenaries with open hostility.

“Tsk’va,” the githyanki spat. “Surrender? To these?”

“Yes,” Tali said.

“They would walk away without killing us.” Lae’zel turned up her nose. “Defeat without death is disgraceful.”

“So you’d rather die to these treasure hunters?” Gale said quietly. “No, I think even you will agree this is preferable. Let us part in peace.”

Tali nodded. Despite her murmurs of protest, Lae’zel sheathed her own weapon and followed them back out of the hollow.

As they left, Tali stole a glance back at the adventurers. Barth handed Remira bandages, and she complained loudly at the need to patch up yet another fresh wound so soon after the fight at the gates. Aradin set the dead man’s sword on the table, sat down heavily, and lowered his head into his hands, only to pull his fingers away dripping red. Barth seemed to say something to him, but he did not respond.

A pang of guilt pricked Tali’s heart. This crew was not honorable like her own order, but then again, no one was. They were not responsible for the deaths of their comrades. The goblins were to blame. Yes, the goblins… and the Baldurian who had issued them that Nightsong contract in the first place, if it was a setup after all.

Tali set her jaw. She had been wrong to come after the mercenaries’ leader. She already had targets aplenty.

Chapter Text

Tali trudged back through the swamp, scowling as she wiped her muddy hands on her tabard. The hag Ethel had been another dead end–-now literally-–so it seemed her motley band would have to face the goblins while parasites still writhed in their heads. They hadn't transformed yet. Maybe they had time.

The sludge beneath her feet turned to grassy earth, and she stomped off the muck, relieved. The swamp had held its share of dark secrets and strange encounters, some of which had yet to be concluded. But Kagha's comeuppance could wait, and she hoped she would not see the monster hunter and his new prisoner again.

She raised her eyes to the southern wall of Moonhaven. Uneven steps led up to a gaping gate, and the road continued upward into the village, bordered by ramshackle buildings. Two goblins guarded the gate, though not well; their eyes seemed to be on their toes more than on the surrounding woods. Tali took advantage of an outcropping by the river to creep eastward without crossing their line of sight, and Gale and Lae’zel followed close behind.

“I'm glad to be out of that swamp,” Gale muttered once they were out of the goblins’ earshot. “I think we might have been better off had we not experienced some of the things we… erm… experienced.” He shot Tali a pointed glance.

She knew what this was about. Gale had voiced the most discomfort at her decision to hand Astarion over to Gandrel.

“I offered Astarion mercy, even after learning what he was by waking up to his fangs an inch from my neck,” Tali said. “But I will not harbor a vampire when a hunter is seeking him and children could be on the line.”

“Tchk. He was useful,” Lae’zel hissed, but a shadow of doubt crossed her face.

“We don't know how honest or honorable Gandrel is,” Gale said. “Astarion was one of us, he trusted us, and for all we know, you might have betrayed him into the hands of a torturer.”

Tali hunched her shoulders against the accusation. “He is a vampire. I had to do the right thing.”

Gale shook his head.

Tali left the riverbank and scrambled up an incline onto sunlit grass. She found herself once again near the bridge, with the east wall of the village looming across from it. The bodies they'd discovered before still lay where they were, for the most part, with the glaring difference that there now stood three living humanoids among them.

They saw Tali at the same time as she saw them. Before she even had time to bring their names to mind, all three turned to face her, one with an arrow aimed at her heart. By some strange turn of fate, the mercenaries had crossed her path again.

Tali held up her hands. “Peace!”

Lae’zel leaped up beside her while Gale ducked back down behind the level of the embankment. Lae’zel drew a short blade at the same time as Barth drew his.

“Hold on,” Tali said, reaching out an arm to hold Lae’zel back. “Peace, I said!”

“Didn't you hear the boss last time?” Remira spat. Her eyes flicked between the two warriors facing her, but the arrow remained trained on Tali. “Leave now, or I shoot!”

“Shut your trap!” Aradin said sharply from behind her. “There's goblins here. You want to bring more arrows down on us?”

Remira fell silent, but the hostility in her eyes remained.

“Thank you,” Tali said, breathing a sigh of relief. Keeping a cautious eye on Lae’zel, whose sword arm still twitched in anticipation, she let her guard fall. She turned back to the mercenaries. “Your leader is right, and the goblins probably have eyes on you right now. Why are you here?”

Barth lowered his sword. “Seeing what we can pick up.”

“And putting some stuff back,” Aradin added. He looked like he'd mostly healed from their last encounter-–his hair was clean, at least–-but he had a bandage on his forehead. He gestured to the bodies. “Sorry sod died with a sword in his hands. Weren't right, taking it from him.”

Tali moved two steps closer and followed his gesture, looking down at the dead goblins and the mangled adventurers among them. Seeing and smelling them again, now riper than they had been when she first found them, stirred her anger anew. But it was cold and patient now. It waited like a hungry dog, knowing its master would feed it soon.

“Why are you leaving weapons behind?” Tali asked. “I would think you’d want to take them with you, either as backups or as loot."

“We don’t need more weapons,” Aradin replied. “And we don’t need to be dragging around any more weight. Never know when you’ll have to make another break for it.” He looked pointedly at the walls of Moonhaven.

Tali followed his eyes. Tiny shapes scampered through the village, visible through the gaping archway.

“I’ve been most of the way around the village,” she said. “You can get around it safely, if you're quiet, but west of the village, the only road leads to a ruin overrun with goblins.”

Aradin scoffed. “Oh, we know. That’s where we lost Brian and Liam.”

“I don't think there's a safe route to the city so long as they hold the temple.”

“Well, look at that: a holy knight and a strategist,” Aradin said dryly. He turned and pointed northward. “We ain't going west. Up there's a tollhouse and an inn. Goblins hadn't got to either of them when we came through.”

“The goblins probably weren't on the hunt when you first came here,” Gale said, walking up behind Tali. “Now they're searching for something, and they're sending agents–-not all of whom are goblins-–to find it.”

“What could it be?” Remira asked. “Were we looking for the Nightsong in the wrong place?”

“They're looking for someone,” Gale clarified.

Tali gestured to herself and her companions. “Specifically, they're looking for us.”

Aradin squinted at her, as if sizing her up.

“The goblins probably aren't inclined to offer a reward for me, if that's what you're thinking,” she added. “They'd probably try to finish what they started and kill the rest of your crew. You won't be leaving the forest that way.”

“Might be worth a shot.” He sighed through his nose and shook his head. “Nah, I'm done tangling with you.”

“Then go. Take your people back to the Grove, Aradin. I'll let everyone know when the roads are safe again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna go and kill all the goblins by yourself?”

Tali pointed her thumbs back at her companions. “These people are going to help me.”

“That's three against the horde,” Barth said. He looked down his nose at Gale in particular. “We couldn't infiltrate that place with our whole crew plus a druid, and you lot couldn’t even take us.”

“We have a few more friends to call upon.”

“A few?” Barth said flatly.

Tali looked at Aradin. “You said it yourself: you're treasure hunters, not monster hunters. I slay monsters, and with me are a former archmage, a githyanki warrior, a cleric, and the Blade of Frontiers. A few are all we need.”

None of the mercenaries looked convinced, but none of them challenged her further. Tali turned to her compatriots and pointed towards the gate.

“The goblins have the high ground if we approach from the south or west,” she said. “The terrain becomes rocky further northward, so trying to climb into or around the village would be impractical and would leave us exposed. This gate is probably our best entrance. No doubt there are lookouts within the walls, but here at least there are no guards on the outside. We have a better chance of approaching with some measure of concealment and positioning ourselves advantageously.”

Lae’zel nodded, her eyes filled with an eager bloodlust. “By the time they notice we are within their walls, they will be choking on their own blood.”

Gale stood back and furrowed his brow. “The walls look too narrow and unsteady to stand on. Otherwise that’s where I’d want to be, to get a vantage on as much of the village as possible.”

“Once we’re in, we’ll clear a roof and get you in position,” Tali said. She glanced back at the adventurers. “The goblins will be on high alert when the fighting starts. You’d best get back to the Grove. After the village has been cleared of these monsters, the way northward will be open, and you can pursue your journey from there.”

Remira scowled. Aradin sighed.

“Shake the rest out fast,” he ordered. “Then fall back across the bridge before the gobbos get angry.”

“We’re doing as she says?” Barth said incredulously.

“Her death wish is her business. It’s time we got out of it.” Aradin gave Tali a curt nod, which she returned.

“It’s not a death wish,” she said, “but I’ll take whatever risk I have to.”

He scoffed and shook his head. His mercenaries swiftly returned to their task of picking over the corpses, and he joined them.

Tali turned back to Gale and Lae’zel. “Take up positions.”

The trio started towards the gate. In heavy armor and a tabard embroidered with red, black, and gold, Tali had little chance of sneaking, so she soon fell back and let the others proceed a few steps ahead of her. Once they took their places stealthily, she would take hers and draw the goblins’ fire, bringing them into the open for Gale’s spells and Lae’zel’s arrows.

A hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She turned and was surprised to see Aradin. Barth and Remira were already halfway across the bridge, loading a rundown wheelbarrow with loot from the dead.

“You really do wanna die, don’t you?” he said in a harsh whisper.

“I’m not going to die,” she said, annoyed.

“You might, if you take a bath in firewine.” He tipped his head towards the archway. “If that’s what you’re about, wait ‘til my boys are nowhere near here.”

Tali took another look at the gate and the muddy path beyond. Barrels and crates lay in the ruined village in various states of repair. At last, she spotted it: the telltale orange ooze of firewine, leaking slowly from a resealed barrel just within the walls.

“The soil is soaked with it,” she realized.

Aradin rolled his eyes. “You ever think of looking where you’re going?”

She frowned at him. “Yes, of course. I just didn’t think they’d trap their own encampment.”

“Then you don’t know goblins.” He released her wrist. “Give us a count to ten, yeah?”

Before Tali could respond and before Aradin could run, a shrill voice pierced the woodland air.

“Oi!” it shrieked. “We got some piggies!”

Aradin’s eyes widened, and Tali started to turn to look for the source of the voice.

BOOM.

The sudden conflagration blinded her as the firewine barrel ignited and exploded. A wave of scorching heat gushed from the gate, bathing the road in firelight.

Acting on instinct, she grabbed Aradin’s shoulder and threw him to the ground. Maybe it was the surprise, or maybe he realized taking cover behind a tiefling was a good idea; either way, he didn’t resist. She crouched over him and let the fire wash over her. She smelled hairs and fibers burning as the rain of flaming firewine fell on her tabard and the back of her head, and her armor grew uncomfortably warm.

Then the hellish rain stopped, and she leaped to her feet to look for her companions.

To her relief, both were intact. Lae’zel pressed herself flat against the village wall with one arm up to shield her eyes. Her side looked rosy, and she’d need healing later, but a mild burn seemed to be the extent of her injuries. Gale had fared the best out of all of them; a shell of abjuration energy shimmered and fell away from him, revealing that the fire had only reached the hem of his robe. Around them, most of the fire died down as quickly as it had burst to life, but smoldering streams continued to trace faint lines through the dirt.

The shrill voice came again. “I still see ‘em crawling! And last I heard, the Absolute needs some new pincushions. Scouts!”

Then came the snapping of bowstrings, and arrows soared over the village walls and peppered the ground. Tali twisted, taking one on her pauldron. They were goblin arrows, poorly crafted and of little use against her armor, but they would still pierce skin if they found it–and they likely carried toxins or filth intended to cause infection.

My plan didn’t start with a fiery explosion, Tali thought, but at least one part will still work. She widened her stance and turned her eyes upward, ready for another volley. As she uttered a prayer to Tyr, divine magic wrapped her body in a translucent golden shield. She took a deep breath and belted it out in a wordless bellow, challenging the goblins to fire at her again.

To her surprise, Aradin darted ahead of her, making for the wall. It was the right decision, since any attempt to reach the bridge would put him entirely in the open. Even so, she’d expected him to run, and she watched in bemusement as he seized a bow from one of the old, rotted goblin bodies and set his back to the wall next to Lae’zel.

Goblins on rooftops bobbed their heads over the outer wall to send more arrows down. Tali couldn’t get a count of them; her focus had to remain on the arrows themselves, lest any get through her defenses. Between her shield of faith and her physical armor, none found her flesh.

The goblins nocked new arrows, and Tali danced from side to side, buying her allies time to take aim themselves. Lae’zel and Aradin returned fire, and as the goblins ducked back down below the line of the wall, a series of magic missiles pursued them, flung from Gale’s outstretched fingers. Cries of pain and surprise arose, and Tali thought she heard the thump of a body falling.

The next volley of arrows came sporadically and half-heartedly; the cowardly goblins seemed unwilling to risk their heads by peeking out far enough and long enough to aim properly. The arrows hit the earth and broke.

Tali laughed. It was her turn.

She unslung her greatsword from her back and spun it in a flourish. Its edge caught the late afternoon sun with a brilliant silvery sheen. Nothing thrilled her like slaying monsters, and as she charged below the arch into Moonhaven, she felt like she was dancing.

To either side rose two-storey houses, their peaked roofs just tall enough to allow the goblins atop them to fire over the village walls. Ramshackle ladders leaned against the buildings. Tali picked one and scrambled up it. The going was ungainly with only one hand on the ladder and the other hauling a heavy greatsword, and the splintering wood creaked against her weight. She pulled herself onto the rooftop and glanced around. Goblins yelped around her, alarmed at her speedy approach.

“Hey! Why’s this one up here and breathin’?”

Tali found the source of the shrill voice, a gangly goblin woman standing at the peak of the roof with a crude staff in her hand. A booyagh. At once, the goblins on this rooftop turned their bows on Tali.

A single sideways sweep of her greatsword took the head off one goblin and snapped the next one’s bow. A third yelped and threw himself to the shingles barely in time. Two arrows came her way; one missed, the other glanced off her thigh.

Arcane words caught her attention, and she leaped aside to avoid a blast of sickening poisonous energy from the booyagh. A shingle fell loose beneath her foot, and she almost lost her balance, but she leaned back and righted herself in time for the next arrow. After batting it aside with her sword, she advanced, slicing through another goblin, who fell with a gurgle.

She cut down another, then another, barely feeling the impacts of their arrows. Only the booyagh remained, screaming in frustration. She darted from the peak of the roof down to the corner, but Tali pursued. The booyagh reached for the ladder.

“There’s a faster way down,” Tali breathed, and she ran up from behind and gave the goblin a hard kick. The booyagh tumbled head over heels, screaming out for the Absolute, and landed hard. She probably wasn’t dead, but she was almost certainly immobile.

Tali raised her eyes to the rooftop across the street, but it was already depopulated. Corpses still smoking from magical fire slumped over the eaves. She looked down. Her companions and Aradin had made it into the village and were taking up positions in the buildings’ shadows, alert for more goblins. At her whistle, all three looked up.

“Gale, this is a good position for you,” she called down.

Lae’zel pointed across the way at the second corpse-strewn rooftop. “I shall take the other.”

Tali nodded. “Then Aradin and I will guard the ground and intercept any melee fighters that come.”

“What?” Aradin said.

“You heard me.” Tali skipped to the edge of the roof, slid down the ladder, and grabbed the booyagh’s staff from her limp hands. “These seem to be the two soundest roofs in the village, so far as I can see; as long as we keep them, we have a valuable advantage.” She thrust the staff towards Aradin. “Here. It’s no spiked greatclub, but it should do.”

He eyed it reluctantly but took it, letting his scavenged bow fall to the ground. He hefted the staff to test its weight and side-eyed Tali.

“Aye. I suppose I’d rather bash some gobbos than put my back to them again,” he muttered. “Don’t think I’ll be taking more orders from you after, though. Crazy bitch.”

“More incoming!” Gale called from above.

Tali brandished her greatsword. “From which direction?”

“Every direction–-and that’s barely hyperbole.”

“This is a good spot to funnel ‘em,” Aradin said. He tapped the staff on the ground at his feet. “Don’t go rushing too far in.”

“I know,” Tali said. She stood next to him, facing the center of the village. She could hear the shouts and footsteps of goblins.

“Do you, though? Seems like your thing.”

Tali frowned. “I charged when it seemed strategically sound.”

“That the only time?”

She tilted her head, trying to decipher what the question could mean. Of course she had led charges before; why would he need to ask that? She opened her mouth to say so.

“Points up, tiefling,” Aradin said, interrupting her. “Gobbos are here.”

Tali turned her attention to the road ahead. The cluttered, mossy village center had been almost empty a moment ago, but now goblin raiders swarmed in from the north and south ends of town. The ground vibrated with the beating of dozens of tiny feet, the air rang with the clattering of bone charms, and their weapons flashed in the light of the lowering sun. They gnashed their teeth as they cried out the name of the Absolute. Beyond them, the skeleton of a building without walls shook as part of its meager roof collapsed. An immense, grimy humanoid–an ogre–stepped out of it to join the goblins.

The clamor sounded like music to Tali’s ears. She stared first into the eyes of a distant but fast-advancing raider, beady and gleaming, then at the scarred and unsteady leg of the ogre. Details assailed her senses, but in spite of the chaos, she found focus.

“What’s your name, again?” Aradin’s voice barely pierced Tali’s intensifying battle-focus, but from what she made out he sounded nervous.

“Retaliation,” she answered. “But I go by Tali.”

If he responded, he was drowned out by goblin war cries. Arrows descended on the horde from one side, and bolts of fire fell from the other.

Tali lowered her head and prepared to meet them with her blade.

Chapter Text

By sunset Moonhaven was striped black and red with long shadows and rivulets of blood. Tali breathed deeply through her nose, savoring the smells of iron, smoke, and sweat, to clear her head.

During the battle, she had called upon her oath several times, and the fire in her mind burned low. That fire, along with the thrill of danger and the chaotic rhythm of the fight, had kept the rest of the world at bay, but now she was aware of the late hour and the developing soreness in her muscles. She also realized how far she’d pushed into the horde; although she had started between the first buildings her party had taken, she now found herself past the center of the village, in between a well and a gap in the outer wall.

She dropped her arms, letting the point of her sword drag in the reddish mud. Like the village itself, she was covered in blood, and although most of it once belonged to the goblins she’d slaughtered, she would have to check herself for injuries, just in case. She turned and started back towards the east gate, stepping over and around cloven corpses.

“That was a good kill,” Lae’zel declared as she approached. The githyanki remained on her rooftop, scowling into the sunset.

“Thank you,” Tali said.

Lae’zel turned her severe look to Tali. “I was not speaking of you, istik. I slew the final ogre with a single arrow--did you not see him fall?”

“I didn’t,” Tali admitted. She had busied herself running down the goblins who tried to flee westward.

“I did,” Gale said. He left his perch and started down the ladder. “It was a fine shot indeed, Lae’zel.”

“It pleases me that at least one of you still has your eyesight,” Lae’zel said, turning up her nose. She unstrung her bow and dropped from the edge of the roof, landing gracefully.

Seeing her companions, Tali realized what a mess she must have been. Lae’zel and Gale were mostly clean of blood--except a graze on Gale’s cheek and a few bruises Lae’zel sustained from thrown rocks--and their equipment remained largely undamaged. Tali sighed, then realized one of their number was unaccounted for.

“Where’s Aradin?” she asked.

Gale looked confused and started to answer, but before he could, a voice from behind startled Tali.

“I’m here, idiot.”

She whirled about. Sure enough, there he stood, his armor scratched and almost as bloody as hers. The bandage around his forehead was also newly soaked, but Tali couldn’t tell if it was from a new wound, an old one reopened, or an errant spurt from a goblin.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Been right behind you the whole time,” he said through heavy breaths. He leaned on the goblin staff. “You ran off and left your flank wide open.”

Tali frowned. “That is… unexpected, but sound.”

He shrugged, and the motion betrayed his tiredness. “If I’d let them kill you, I’d have been their only target.”

“You keep going on about how I’m going to die.”

“Ain’t that far-fetched,” he grunted. “But you didn’t this time, ‘cause I worked my arse off to keep ‘em off yours.”

“For which we are all most grateful,” Gale said. “You fought well and showed great courage.”

Aradin gave him a sneer. “Save it, wizard.” He looked to Tali. “I’d rather get first pick of the loot.”

Tali tipped her head to him. “Go ahead, but be swift about it--I didn't let any escape, but lookouts from their main camp might have noticed the fighting. If anyone comes to investigate, I don’t want to be found.”

Lae’zel was already among the dead, picking over them for suitable trophies to add to her collection at camp. Aradin turned and crouched next to the nearest body, but he wobbled, one leg buckled beneath him, and he leaned more heavily on the staff to keep from falling. He sucked in his breath sharply and let out what sounded like a suppressed cry of pain.

“Are you injured?” Tali asked. She took a step towards him, but he held up a hand to ward her away.

“Weren’t nothing,” he muttered. But his jaw was clenched tight, and his arms shook as he tried to hold himself up.

Sympathy stirred in Tali’s heart. As rude and craven as he seemed, the mercenary was, like anyone else, a person in need. A pang of guilt ran through her at the memory of the duel she’d forced him into.

“Here,” she said, kneeling down in front of him. “You fought alongside me; I owe you what aid I can offer.”

He glared from below lowered brows. “Don’t--”

She reached out and set a hand on his weak leg. He recoiled from her touch, but not quickly enough to avoid the divine energy that flowed between them. The fire in Tali’s mind burned even lower; she was almost spent for the day.

Aradin showed no visible improvement, but the shakiness seemed to subside, even if his orneriness did not. Tali withdrew her hand and stood up.

“You put a bloody handprint on my tunic,” Aradin complained.

“You’re already covered in blood,” Tali said. “Depending on how bad your wounds still are, I might have to take you to Shadowheart. Collect your gold and let’s be gone by nightfall.”

With that, she turned and walked away, but she still felt his eyes on her. She found a low wall intact enough to halfway comfortably sit on, laid her sword across her lap, and began wiping it clean.

Nightfall approached quickly. Tali barely noticed the dimming of the sun; what finally alerted her to the darkness was the sudden brightness of a magical light. She raised her head and blinked at it. It glowed unwavering above Gale’s palm, and he used it to survey the village. As if by instinct, the other two gravitated towards him. Tali realized that all three of her allies lacked her natural night vision, so the longer they stayed out and the deeper the shadows grew, the more dangerous traveling would become.

Tali stood and sheathed her greatsword. “Are you ready to leave?”

Gale nodded. “I believe we are.” He looked to the other two for confirmation, and both nodded.

“Good.” Tali strode towards them. “To camp, then.”

“Hold on,” Aradin said. “I need to regroup with the rest of my crew. We ain’t far from the Grove--that’s where they would’ve run off to."

Tali shook her head. “We risk leading more goblins there, and under cover of night, too. We can’t risk the Grove like that.”

“So instead we’re risking our own hides by trailing blood all the way to a camp in the open?”

“It’s not exactly in the open,” Gale said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “I exhort you, heed Tali on one more matter. We’ll return to the Grove when light allows.”

Aradin looked between them incredulously. “The Grove fought them off the first time. It’s a defensible spot. Camping out here is mad.”

“That’s enough,” Tali said. “If you want more reasoning, we can bore you with it on the way to camp. In the meantime, pick up your feet and follow me. And do it quietly.” She gave him a stern look.

He glared back, but he relented. He was right to; everything in his stance and bearing showed his exhaustion, and he probably had unseen wounds that still needed tending.

Tali led the march out of the village and along wending forest paths. Her tiefling eyes let her pick out the shapes of trees, bushes, and occasional animals in the dark, even if their colors had all drained away to a uniform grey. Stars dotted the sky overhead, so the darkness was never absolute, but anyone without darkvision would still find the forest extremely difficult to navigate. After several double-backs and circuitous detours, Tali decided that her party’s tracks were sufficiently muddled and started on a direct course towards the riverbank.

A loud rustle, an impact, and a muttered curse made her turn. The noise had attracted the eyes of her companions, as well--the two still standing, at least. Aradin had lost his footing and plunged into the underbrush, and now he struggled to right himself.

“Lae’zel,” Tali said, frowning down at Aradin. “Get him up and help him the rest of the way. The last thing we need is a self-inflicted injury.”

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel spat as she hauled Aradin to his feet. He immediately tried to shake her off, but in his state, he couldn’t put up enough resistance.

Tali wanted to pick up the pace for the final stretch, but she resigned herself to slowing down instead for the sake of her injured ally. Unfortunately, slowing her pace slowed her blood, and as the inner heat died down the aches and pains all over her body became sharper. She clenched her teeth and pushed on.

Faint firelight marked the nearby campsite, and the burbling river and crackling fire made for a warm welcome. Tali bounded forward, hopped down the rocks that bordered the camp, and landed harder than she meant to.

At once, sounds of surprise arose from Shadowheart and Wyll, but they calmed down once they saw who it was. Scratch ran up to greet Tali, wagging his tail eagerly. Gradually, Gale, Lae’zel, and Aradin climbed down to the campsite to join them.

“You see?” Gale said reassuringly to their guest. “This place is barely visible from this side of the river, and nature itself has given us walls.” He smiled and patted the closest rock.

Aradin said nothing. In the light, Tali could finally tell how much of him was red. Not only was he splattered all over with blood, his skin was flushed and glistening from the effort of getting here.

“Find a good spot to rest,” Tali said. She tried to say it gently, but it still came out brusque and commanding. She turned to the rest of her people. “Gale, get started on dinner. Lae’zel, help him if he needs it. If not, see to weapon and armor maintenance. Wyll, stand by. A lot of things are about to need a lot of cleaning. Shadowheart--healing.”

Most of her companions set about following Tali’s instructions, including--to her mild satisfaction--Aradin, who didn’t argue and instead found a place by the fire.

Shadowheart approached Tali, glancing at Aradin suspiciously.

“Picked up a new stray, have we?” she remarked.

“For the night,” Tali said. She started undoing the buckles on her armor. “I couldn’t have him running back to the Grove and leading goblins there again.”

“Do you think you led any here instead?”

“No. But just in case, I’ll take the first watch.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “No offense, but I wouldn’t trust you to find your own head if it wasn’t attached. I think I shall take first watch.”

Tali nodded tiredly and tugged off her vambraces, then her gloves, then her tabard. Her boots, cuirass, and greaves went next, stacked neatly on a flat stone. The padded layer below her outer armor was heavy and fragrant after the day’s exertions, and she flung it aside to be washed and dried. It would have a few new bloodstains regardless of Wyll’s thoroughness, but she at least wanted it fresh for the morrow.

“Where’s Astarion?” Shadowheart asked abruptly.

Tali slowed her movements. Red eyes flashed in her mind, wide with disbelief. “Astarion….”

“Oh, you know--posh elf, vampiric appetite?”

“I know.” Tali shook her tunic to air herself out. The vague aches of before had resolved themselves into pinpricks of pain. “There is… a bit of a story. Help me see to my wounds, and I’ll tell you.”

“I imagine Wyll will want to hear it, too.”

Tali nodded. “Yes… yes, everyone should know.” She bowed her head for a moment, unsure of what she felt. Was she ashamed? Or just tired?

With a heavy sigh, she walked over to the fire and sank onto a fallen log-turned-bench. She raised her voice and called to the camp, “Pause. Gather ‘round. We need to discuss what happened today.”

Her companions set aside their tasks and congregated around the fire. Wyll looked curious with barely a hint of apprehension; Gale, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably. Lae’zel stood at attention, like a soldier waiting to receive orders, and Aradin glanced morosely in her direction.

That bothered Tali. She didn’t need him of all people to know the new controversy she’d stirred today. Then it bothered her that she was bothered at all; she didn’t need to honor anyone’s scrutiny, least of all that of an oathless mercenary.

Shadowheart slid onto the log next to Tali and started rolling up the tiefling’s sleeves to look her over. She gave Tali a meaningful look.

Tali sighed. Time to get it over with. “We lost Astarion today.”

Wyll frowned. Gale looked away.

“While we were investigating the swamp, we discovered that Ethel--the old woman selling tonics at the Grove--was actually a green hag making foul deals with passersby. A man was near her lair, preparing to approach her and seek her help. He was a monster hunter, he said, and he’d lost the trail on his target.

“I am sworn to slay anything that preys on the innocent, so I offered to help him. He told me what he was after. He….” Tali’s mouth went dry. She licked her lips. “He said he was after Astarion.”

Shadowheart sat back, surprised. “Truly?”

“He mentioned him by name,” Gale confirmed. His jaw was tight, and he still wouldn’t look at Tali.

“So this monster hunter did away with Astarion?” Wyll surmised.

“Yes,” Tali said. “I turned him over.”

As she said the words aloud, her stomach turned. She lowered her eyes into the fire and let the stunned silence of her party wash over her. Only Scratch’s happily ignorant panting interrupted the spitting of the flames.

“A difficult choice,” Wyll said at last.

“And an easy mistake,” Gale added. “Or so it would seem.”

“He was a vampire, I must point out,” Wyll said. “A blood-sucking undead creature of the night. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have willingly traveled with him in the first place.”

“Was he any worse than the rest of us?” Shadowheart said. She had ceased inspecting Tali’s injuries. “After all, Gale, you’ve been rather tight-lipped about all these magic items you demand and consume.”

The wizard looked even more uncomfortable. “I know. So I can only hope the rest of us won’t be sold out so quickly for our various quirks.”

“I didn’t sell anyone out,” Tali protested. “We were traveling with a wanted man–-a wanted vampire. This is a campsite, for Helm’s sake; I could have picked up any of dozens of stakes and driven it through his heart, if I wanted to do him harm. I didn’t. But what the hunter said…. He indicated that innocent lives may be on the line, and that he had no intention of killing Astarion, either."

“He was one of us, Tali."

“Only by circumstance and personal necessity.” Tali stood. “Do you think he was loyal to us? I caught him in lie after lie. We all share a need, that’s true, but little binds us beyond that.”

“I like to think we are bound together by a shared desire to see good done and evil vanquished, wherever we find ourselves,” Wyll said.

Tali clenched her fists and turned her head aside. “And I failed to do that when I decided not to kill a godsdamned vampire. Mrag, I should have staked him-–but I didn’t. Maybe the gods stayed my hand that night so that he could be delivered alive and intact to the Gur. If what that hunter said is true, any information Astarion has could at least do some good.”

“You’re relying heavily on conjecture,” Gale said. “We don’t know who that man truly was or what his intentions truly were regarding Astarion. I, too, want to believe that you did the right thing in that swamp, but I don’t know. All I know for sure is that he never suspected that you would reveal him and turn him over as you did.”

“I offered him forgiveness,” Tali hissed. “Forgiveness! After he tried to feed on me in my sleep!”

“And then you took it away.”

Shadowheart stood and held her hands out. “That’s quite enough, both of you. What’s done is done, and there’s no need to fight about the past.”

“Of course you would say so,” Lae’zel said. She took a step towards the cleric. “Perhaps we should have tried to pass you off as a vampire instead, to lose someone less useful.”

“Are you going to mount a rescue mission, just to be contrary?” Shadowheart said, throwing her hands up. “We don’t have to take a side in every battle. Maybe by handing over Astarion, you let fate take its course.”

“I don’t know how much I believe in fate as a universal force,” Gale said, “especially if it is used as justification for–-”

“Can all of you SHUT UP?”

A sixth voice cut through the mayhem. Tali glanced down. Aradin was still on the ground near the fire, glowering up at everyone.

“I thought we was going to camp without attracting anything from the bloody forest,” he snapped. “Gods, you lot are a mess.”

“He’s right,” Shadowheart said. “Our own survival comes first.” She gave Lae’zel and Gale each a stern glance. “Now, I believe we have a meal to eat and people to heal.”

Tali nodded her agreement. “And I don’t want any of you bringing this to me again unless you have to. I know what I’ve done. Save it for after we get rid of the tadpoles.”

Despite clearly wanting to argue more, Gale nodded. “I’ll get some dinner together.” He glanced at Aradin. “Six portions… as usual.”

As he turned aside to fetch cookware and food, Wyll gave Tali a nod of understanding. She tipped her head in reply, and he quietly shuffled off to his own corner of the camp. Lae’zel and Shadowheart gave each other a long, cool look before Lae’zel, too, left the fire. Tali retreated with Shadowheart to her tent and sat down cross-legged outside it.

“Mistress have mercy,” Shadowheart muttered as she sat down beside Tali. “I admit, when you said there was a story, I didn’t realize just what a story it was.”

“I didn’t, either,” Tali said softly. “How could I hide a vampire from his hunter?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Shadowheart sighed. “At least you found a replacement quickly enough.”

“What?”

“With Aradin around, we might not even notice Astarion is missing. We’ll have almost the same amount of uncalled-for remarks and curly hair.”

Tali gave a huff that might have been the start of a chuckle. “No, he’s all but set on returning to the Grove.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind to wait until things blow over, truth be told. I’ve known lots of people like him: boisterous, aggressive, undisciplined.”

“As have I.”

Shadowheart placed a hand on Tali’s arm, muttered a few words of magic, and traced a glowing line over Tali’s skin. A cool, soothing light covered a couple of large bruises.

“He said something about going northward, along the Risen Road,” Tali said. “With the village cleared, that path should be open again, and relatively safe.”

“Tsk,” Shadowheart said. “Then I suppose we’ll be somewhat low on rude, selfish men for a while, won’t we?"

“With luck,” Tali muttered. “I want people I know I can work with.”

Shadowheart moved on to Tali’s other arm. “He looks like he did some sort of work today.”

“Bloody work,” Tali agreed. “He made for a fine enough ally in one battle… but I will not keep him with us against his will. That’s an easy way to make an enemy-in-waiting.”

“What if he was completely willing?”

Tali eyed Shadowheart. “Why, do you want to keep the ‘new stray’?”

“You know as well as I that we need allies, and he’s one we can comfortably keep at arm’s length. Having an extra sword against the goblins could make a real difference.”

Tali pondered Shadowheart’s words. She raised her eyes across the camp. Aradin had managed to remove his breastplate, and he watched Gale prepare a pot with hungry eyes.

“Many people want nothing more than a full purse and a fuller belly. Adventuring is a strange way to do it, but….” Tali sighed. “Yes. If we can, let’s see if we can persuade Aradin and his crew to fight with us. They have fallen comrades yet unavenged.”

Shadowheart gave a short laugh. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

“What?”

“The Nightsong.” Shadowheart smiled slyly. “Offer them another go at the Nightsong.”

Chapter Text

The goblin encampment reeked of cheap alcohol and worg dung. Even this high up, on her mostly clean vantage point, the hazy air stung Tali’s eyes and made her stomach turn. Goblins howled and laughed unintelligibly, but Tali picked out a few familiar words, among them “Absolute,” “capture,” and “drink.”

“Everyone on the upper level seems drunk and distracted,” she whispered. “We’ll take them out quickly and quietly and gain high-ground access to the entire camp.”

“These goblins are deep in their cups,” Gale remarked, almost in awe. “One wonders how they manage to drink more than one–-by the smell, I wouldn’t be surprised if their stuff is strong enough to knock out an ogre.”

“They have one of those,” muttered Aradin. From here, Tali could only see its great fleshy head as it stood guard at the front doors. The ogres in Moonhaven had not posed too dire a threat, but Moonhaven was only an outpost. Ogres surrounded by allies and under direct orders from the goblin leaders could prove more dangerous.

“If we're lucky, the goblins’ thirst is not yet slaked,” Lae’zel said. She turned her eyes toward the lower courtyard and its raucous occupants. “Slaying them will be almost too easy.”

“Easy?” Barth said, appalled at the gith's confidence. “There must be dozens, and their leaders are right inside the ruin.”

“We have no intention of taking on everyone at once,” Shadowheart said. She pointed across the rampart below them. “Look. That wall is crumbling. If we put our hands to work, we can make our own way in and take the leaders by surprise.”

“I can get that taken care of much faster,” Wyll offered. He held out a hand, and eldritch energy sparked between his fingers before dissipating into the air. “Leave the wall to me.”

Tali nodded. “That's a good idea. We’ll regroup at that wall after our work is done out here. Once we have the inside, it will be especially easy to take and clear the courtyard. But in the meantime….” She glanced at Lae’zel.

“The poison,” Lae’zel said.

Tali looked over her shoulder at the mercenaries. “Remira, watch her back, and cover her escape if necessary.”

The archer scowled, then turned her ire on Aradin. “Why are we following her orders, again?”

Aradin fixed a stern look on her. Remira turned aside and began stringing her bow. She always seemed angry, which Tali understood. She did not, however, understand how Remira could tolerate fury without focus-–nor how Aradin could trust such a person at his back.

“Tali, Barth, Aradin, and I will take these creatures by surprise,” Shadowheart said. She nodded towards the mumbling, half-asleep drunkards on the ramparts. “We do it quickly and quietly. We must not raise the alarm.”

“I’ll use illusion magic to silence any who try,” Gale added. Tali narrowed her eyes at him; his jaw was tight, and he still seemed discomfited by the events of the previous days. He had wanted to approach the camp diplomatically, and once again, Tali’s preferred methods had disappointed him. Even so, he had agreed to the current stealth plan, and if Tali could be sure of one thing about Gale, it was his reliability.

“Are we clear on the plan?” Tali said. Nods and mutters of affirmation came in reply. “Good. Then let’s begin.”

“Hold on,” Aradin said. “What’s our fallback position?”

Tali scoffed. “Planning another retreat already?”

He gave her a dark look. “I lost more than half my crew here. I ain’t losing the rest.”

“Then pick your own fallback position.” Tali drew a dagger and crouched. “I don’t intend to run.”

That earned her a derisive snort. The mercenaries huddled together and talked among themselves, giving Gale a chance to lean in close to Lae’zel and offer advice without being overheard.

“If you must, do not hesitate to use the tadpole’s powers,” he whispered. “Odious though you may find it, it may be what gets you into and out of that courtyard alive.”

Lae’zel tossed her head haughtily. “I have no intention of speaking with these creatures.”

Almost in spite of herself, Tali had quickly grown to like Lae’zel. The githyanki always had her mind on the mission, and her ruthlessness suited the tiefling’s methods nicely. Only her pride gave Tali pause.

The mercenaries nodded to each other and fell quiet. “All right,” Aradin muttered. “Now we’re ready.”

Without waiting for a command, Lae’zel sprung away. Aided by her psionics, she moved with supernatural lightness and ease. Tali watched her cross the ramparts, then reluctantly drew her eyes away to focus on her own part of the mission. From now on, Lae’zel was Remira’s charge.

Tali slunk to the edge of her rocky vantage point, armor clinking softly. She adjusted her grip on her dagger, anticipating the feeling of sinking it into goblin flesh. Then she turned, dropped, and began her bloody work.

~

Two more eldritch blasts dropped the last of the loose stones, making a hole large enough for Tali to walk through without ducking. Behind her were strewn goblin and bugbear corpses, all slain before they could muster more than a gurgle. Only Wyll’s contributions had made a worrying amount of noise, but the raucous courtyard seemed not to notice a thing.

“Lae’zel, could you scout ahead?” Tali said.

The githyanki nodded and silently slipped into the ruin. In the courtyard, goblin laughter began to turn into coughing and gagging, evidencing the success of the gith’s last task.

Aradin looked towards the poisoned goblin party. “If they’d have been drinking like this last time we was here, we might’ve had a decent chance at getting through.”

“Maybe,” Gale agreed. “In fairness, I wouldn’t have expected a calendar of goblin holidays to be a useful resource on this journey, either.”

“Not that that would have done you much good,” Tali said. “These things follow the Absolute. I’m not sure they still observe normal cultural practices.”

“Other than eating people,” Remira said. She looked sick. “That’s not pork down here. Not nearly enough of it, anyway.”

Tali’s fingers twitched, eager to swing her greatsword through monsters’ necks. She opened her mouth to reassure Remira of the vengeance her comrades would soon have, but at that moment Lae’zel re-emerged from the wall.

“From here we have access to the rafters of perhaps the entire temple,” Lae’zel reported. “The main room is sparsely occupied, but in its center is a shrine or throne of some ilk. There stands a female goblin, shouting about their false god.”

“Sounds like our ‘Priestess Gut’,” Gale said. “A magic-user is not to be underestimated.”

“We don’t want to alert the camp too soon,” Tali said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and unfurled it to reveal the goblin drawing she’d found and kept. She tapped the stick figures. “I’m more concerned about the hobgoblin and the elf. Let’s see if we can kill at least one of them before we attack the central room.”

No one argued, so Tali ducked and crept through the hole in the wall. Her eyes adjusted to the dim interior immediately. The air here was warm, stagnant, and no less pungent and smoky than outside.

She glanced back out the opening. “Wyll, you have the best range. Keep watch on the courtyard. Follow us and collapse this entrance if we’re at risk of having enemies at our back.”

Wyll gave a quick salute and took up position beside the hole in the wall.

The rest of her allies followed Tali, and she stepped aside to let Lae’zel lead them along a narrow stone gallery. To their right was a cold stone wall, and to their left were wooden rafters and empty air looking down on the rest of the room. Goblinoid voices sounded from below, less chaotic than those outside but barely more intelligible.

The group reached the end of the gallery, and Tali turned and glanced over the edge. She saw what Lae’zel had described, as well as several ways out of the room. Below the main level, exposed by gaping holes in the floor, there seemed to be a dungeon or basement of some kind with its entrance blocked off by a gate of iron bars. As Tali watched the gate, shapes skittered beyond it: giant spiders.

Lae’zel sped ahead, balancing on the rafters and crumbling stone with catlike grace. She scouted first in one direction, then another, then a third, remaining unnoticed by the enemies below. Upon her return, she indicated that the group should continue forward, towards the heart of the ancient temple, if they wanted to find the goblins’ war leader.

Unfortunately, straight ahead meant crossing a wide gap. A fall would alert the goblins and result in injury; a graceless landing would still accomplish at least one of those.

“Are you sure?” Tali whispered.

“The hobgoblin is in the next room, leading a ritual. They have a dead ghaik. I know not what they mean to do with it.”

Tali frowned. “It can’t be good.”

“No,” Lae’zel agreed.

“Let’s put an end to their ritual, then, and take off one of this hydra’s heads.”

“That’s a shite metaphor,” Aradin said.

Tali scowled. “What else has lots of heads?”

“Hells if I know. I do know hydras get worse if you cut their heads off.”

“Death dogs have multiple heads,” Gale interjected. “Argue about it later.”

Tali stopped her grumbling and turned back around in time to watch Lae’zel launch herself across the gap. One by one, each of her allies followed suit to wedge themselves between crumbling walls and ceilings. Space was tight on both sides, but Lae’zel directed them towards good hiding places and made sure there was room enough for everyone. Soon all had made the jump except Tali, Gale, and Remira.

Tali stepped back and nodded to Remira. The archer showed no sign of acknowledging her, but she got a running start and jumped all the same. A goblin passed by below, grumbling to himself, none the wiser.

“I’ll go next,” Tali whispered to Gale. “When you jump, aim for me. I’ll catch you.”

The wizard looked mildly offended, but he was self-aware enough to say nothing and nod his acquiescence. Tali leaped, and those brief instants in the air, with nothing beneath her but gravity, were thrilling. She hit the stone on the other side more loudly than she wanted to, sabatons grinding on stone, but a quick glance around told her that no one had taken notice. She looked back at Gale.

Gale looked both ways as if he was preparing to cross a busy city street. With a deep breath, he started running, jumped from the gallery, and caught his robe on the edge.

Tali’s heart sank in time with Gale as she watched him plummet. She reached out as if she could help, but she was too far away. Gale let out a yelp of alarm, then a grunt of pain as he slammed into the stone floor below.

“Tsk’va!” Lae’zel hissed.

A goblin in patchwork leather armor emerged from the next room to investigate the noise. He seemed alarmed at the sight of Gale. Tali went to the edge of the nook, ready to climb down to Gale’s defense, but hands came from both sides to catch her. She glanced back in irritation to see both Shadowheart and Aradin holding her back.

Gale’s voice drew her attention downward again. “Now, is that any way to look at a True Soul?”

“S-sorry!” the leather-clad goblin replied in an obsequious whine. “I didn’t mean to disrespect ya, True Soul, sir!”

“I’ll forgive you this time. Be on your way!”

The goblin bowed and ran off. Gale glanced up and met Tali’s eye. He smiled, tapped the side of his head, and mouthed, “Thank you, tadpole.” Then his expression turned serious again, and he pointed at the large door beneath her feet.

Tali looked down at it, then back behind her. Beyond her nook was a room full of goblins and two human cultists. All eyes were fixed on a burly hobgoblin with thick arms and a bare chest. An imperious, resonant voice arose from him, but Tali could not make out his words. She looked back down at Gale.

“Keep out of sight,” she said. “Aid us from the shadows.”

Gale gave her a thumbs-up and pressed himself against the wall where she couldn’t see. She leaned back from the edge and looked to the rest of her allies.

“Let’s kill a hobgoblin,” she said. An eager smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. The drunk goblins they’d slaughtered outside hardly counted as a fight, and the divine fire hungered for proper combat.

She and her allies arrayed themselves across the half-rotted rafters of the room. Part of the wall and floor gaped open, offering a view down into the giant spider pit below. Near it, a crude ritual circle surrounded a dead mind flayer, flaccid and oozing. The hobgoblin’s words became clearer: a necromantic spell. Perhaps Gale could identify it, but Tali could not. She decided that the particulars of the spell didn’t matter if she put a stop to it.

Taking a spot above a crooked ladder, Tali glanced up and across the room to locate the rest of her companions. After finding and exchanging a look with each, she made eye contact with Lae’zel.

She raised her hand. Lae’zel nocked an arrow and took aim at the hobgoblin. Tali let her hand fall, and Lae’zel let her arrow loose.

The arrow flew in silence, but even from this distance Tali heard the impact as it sank into the hobgoblin’s shoulder, missing his throat by inches.

The next seconds were chaos. The hobgoblin roared in pain and surprise while the goblins around him squealed and ducked for cover. Remira shot one while its back was to her. The human cultists brandished weapons and looked up into the rafters, seeking their assailants, and their eyes found Barth and Aradin only a moment before the mercenaries descended on them. Shadowheart shouted a word laced with divine energy, and a spear made of shimmering magic appeared among the enemies. Tali slid down the ladder, drew her sword, and cut down a cowering goblin before it fully realized she was there.

The rhythm of combat took over Tali’s body. She barely saw the room around her, only the creatures ahead. Some charged, crying the name of the Absolute, and others fled. She pursued the nearest one and cut it from shoulder to hip with a diagonal sweep. Bones and guts gleamed as it fell in two pieces.

“TO ME!” the hobgoblin bellowed. Tali snapped her attention away from the goblins around her and saw him pick up a massive, gleaming warhammer, hefting it with both hands. Blood dripped down his red-orange body from Lae’zel’s arrow in his shoulder, but he seemed unperturbed by the injury.

Tali brandished her greatsword and started towards him. Goblins assembled themselves around the hobgoblin, blocking her path, and at her approach, they made no attempt to move aside. Their leader’s presence emboldened them.

All the more reason to cut him down quickly, Tali thought.

She stepped into a forward strike, slicing through the first goblin in her path. It flopped aside, dead, but another rose in its place and swung its jagged scimitar. Tali leaned backwards.

Before she had time to take account of them all, goblins surrounded her–half a dozen, at a glance. Scimitars flashed in the light of ritual candles. Tali batted one aside with her sword, another glanced off her faulds, and a third slammed into her side. Painful, but not enough to penetrate her armor.

Tali ran her gauntlet-clad hand along her blade with the soft scrape of steel against steel. The divine fire in her mind flared, and sourceless sunlight danced along the edges of the sword. She swung it in a large arc. The blade went right through one goblin and clipped another, who let out a terrible scream as holy fire burst from the wound. He fell backward, clawing at the injury.

But he was not defeated. He was barely deterred. As his peers closed in around Tali, hacking away, he recollected himself and rejoined the fray.

A thunderclap almost deafened Tali. Around her, goblins turned, alarmed, towards the source of the sound. She spared a glance in that direction.

It was Gale, standing on the other side of the gap in the wall. The remnants of arcane runes glowed in the air around his hands, fading quickly. Tali looked towards the middle of the room, where the hobgoblin stood clutching his head. The stone tiles around him had shattered from the thunderous power of Gale’s spell, but the hobgoblin himself looked barely affected.

“The alarm!” he shouted. “Sound the alarm!”

A goblin on the other side of the room yelped back: “Yes, Dror Ragzlin!” She scampered towards the door.

“Remira!” Tali shouted. “Kill that goblin before she can get help!”

The arrow was not immediately forthcoming, but Tali could not afford to give any more attention to the rest of the battle. She refocused on the goblins around her, twirling about just in time to avoid an unwanted tail reduction.

Untrained and ill-equipped, each goblin individually would prove no match for Tali. However, as a group, spurred on by whatever fear or admiration they had for this Dror Ragzlin, they proved impossible to hold off. As Tali pushed back two, three more arrayed themselves behind her and tried to cut her legs out from under her. She killed one, a second went down in a burst of sacred flame from Shadowheart, and a third started muttering an arcane incantation of his own. Tali kicked him in the throat, cutting off his spellcasting.

Then Dror Ragzlin was upon her.

The sound of heavy footsteps warned Tali an instant before his warhammer swept across the corner of her vision. She ducked, and it whooshed over her head, snagging her ponytail. She tried to stand up straight, but a goblin grabbed onto one of her horns, dragging her to the side. With a cry of alarm, she took one hand off her hilt to seize the goblin's wrist and try to pry him off.

While she was distracted, other goblins piled onto her legs, weighing her down. They jabbed at her knees and sides with the pommels of their swords, trying to bruise or break her through her armor.

Roaring in fury, Tali swung her sword upward, recklessly close to her own face. It cut clean through the goblin’s arm, and Tali squinted as fresh hot blood spattered the side of her face. The weight on her horn lifted, and she straightened, fixed her stance, and split one of the goblins holding her leg.

The distraction had worked for just long enough, though. The next hammer-blow caught Tali by surprise, slamming into her upper back. Her armor crunched and buckled inward, and in all likelihood, so did her ribs. She gasped in pain and lurched to the side, winded.

“Help,” she tried to call out, but the word came out a hoarse whisper. She tasted blood in the back of her throat. Her eyes darted around the room, seeking allies. At a glance she found none, nothing but the spinning room and jeering goblins.

Dror Ragzlin aimed a blow at her knee, and she staggered back, dragging goblins with her. Their weight and persistent attacks threw her off-balance, and the warhammer swung around again.

Tali stumbled backward and nearly fell. She held up a warding hand towards Dror Ragzlin.

“HALT!” she commanded, channeling divine magic into the command.

The hobgoblin snarled, but his arms seized, and his next attack never followed through. Tali stomped down hard on one goblin's foot and swung her sword through another. Now was her chance to gain some space.

One last goblin clung to her as she moved away, but one alone was too weak to hold her back. Tali kicked it off, and the goblin fell to the floor with a diminutive squeak. She moved back and held her greatsword upright, ready to meet Dror Ragzlin’s next advance with a strike of her own.

But the hobgoblin did not advance. He eyed her for a moment, then turned aside.

“For the Absolute!” called a crackly female voice from beyond the broken wall.

Something stung Tali in the center of her back, and she lurched backwards as if seized and dragged by a creature of immense strength.

She expected to fall flat on the hard stone, but instead, she kept falling. She spun head over heels, watched the level of the floor soar above her, and realized too late that she was destined for the spider pit. As she turned over in the air, she caught a glimpse of an older goblin woman, hand outstretched, energy crackling on her fingers. Priestess Gut.

Tali loosed her grip on her sword and let it find its own landing spot; she didn’t want to risk falling on its wrong end. She slammed into the uneven dirt floor at an awkward angle, and the impact almost wrenched her shoulder from its socket. Still winded from the earlier hammer-blow, now she could hardly breathe at all.

Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack.

Sixteen long, clawed legs pounded the ground, eagerly approaching their new meal. Tali rolled onto her belly and struggled to push herself onto her hands and knees.

“Ignis!”

A giant spider hissed and skittered away as a firebolt descended from above the pen. Tali found her feet, wheezing, and looked around for her sword, but all she found was an array of beady eyes.

The spider lunged for her, limbs outstretched. Tali tried to sidestep, but with her injuries, she was slow and clumsy. The spider knocked her on her back. Its fangs jabbed downward.

Tali seized the fangs, holding them up and away from her face. The spider batted at her arms with its forelimbs, but she did not let go. She knew that the moment she did, it would bite her and fill her with venom.

Fire burst behind the spider’s head like a halo, and it screeched and jerked away from her. Tali took advantage of the moment’s reprieve to stagger upright again.

The second giant spider, still hungry and unburnt, scuttled towards her with a speed Tali never would have expected of an arachnid its size. It reached out claws and fangs, and she stumbled back only to find herself pressed against the bars of an iron gate. The spider lunged.

SPLAT.

A red blur dropped from above and landed on the spider, bursting its body and sending bluish blood all over the pen. Tali reflexively held up an arm to shield her eyes from the splatter, and when she lowered it, to her astonishment, she saw the hobgoblin in the dirt amid the remains.

She looked up at the floor above. At the edge of the hole stood Barth and Aradin, looking down at what was evidently their handiwork.

She opened her mouth to thank them, but instead blood dribbled from her lips.

Dror Ragzlin stirred and started pushing himself to his feet. Alarmed, Tali turned her gaze pleadingly to the adventurers.

But as she watched, a tendril of force extended from somewhere over her head where she couldn’t see. It snapped, whip-like, towards Barth, whom Aradin dragged out of the way. The force whip recoiled back without its prey. Barth had narrowly avoided getting flung into the pit by Priestess Gut, just as Tali had been.

Aradin looked down and met Tali’s eye. Her dented armor pressed painfully against her chest and back, but she tried to shout anyway.

“Get me out!” she cried, spitting crimson flecks.

The words came out faint and weak, but she knew the mercenaries had heard her. Aradin narrowed his eyes and walked away, and Barth followed him.

Tali could only hope they were at that moment making their way around to the other side of the gate to release her from the pit, but she couldn’t spare them any more thought. Dror Ragzlin strode to where his warhammer had fallen and picked it up. A magical shimmer lit up its head.

Tali’s heart pounded in her ears. Blood started seeping into her eye–probably from the goblin whose arm she’d severed. She wiped her brow. She just had to hold on until her allies could release her.

Fortunately, Dror Ragzlin had suffered the same fall she had; he moved more slowly than before, and he held his hammer in only one hand. The other arm he held close to his side, twisted and probably broken.

Pressing a hand to her chest, Tali willed her body to find its strength and speed once more, and the divine fire in her mind flared to new life. Rejuvenating magic flowed through her and restored just enough breath and energy that she had a chance to hold him off. She narrowed her focus down to only two things: the gleaming warhammer and her own straining lungs.

Snarling, the hobgoblin charged. Tali saw the arc of the hammer in the air and slid sideways. It crashed into the gate behind her with a harsh clang.

A whoosh warned her of the next swing, and she darted away at an angle. It meant going deeper into the pen and away from the gate–-her one sure way out–-but she had to keep Dror Ragzlin at arm’s length.

She kept up the dance, staying out of his reach even if only by a hair’s breadth. The warhammer glanced off her pauldron once, sending a tremor through her arm. She wished she had her sword, but she dared not take her focus off Dror Ragzlin to look for it. Even after healing herself, she could not afford another direct hit.

A nearby clicking sound startled her, and she risked letting her eyes wander for the briefest instant. She was glad she did.

The first spider, scorched but still alive, lunged from the shadows along the walls of the pit, and Tali threw herself to the ground to avoid it. Its legs skittered around her, and its immense abdomen blotted out the light from above. But it did not right itself to drive its fangs at Tali as it had before; instead, it grappled Dror Ragzlin.

Tali silently thanked the gods as she crawled towards the wall. For the moment, her foes kept each other engaged, so she hauled herself to her feet and tried again to recover her breath. Her breath burned in her throat and chest, aches spread along her back and limbs, and sweat slicked her hair.

A downward swing from the warhammer hit the spider’s many eyes with a crunch, and the beast twitched and stopped moving. Dror Ragzlin’s eyes once more fell on Tali.

Tyr protect me, she thought, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Red spittle dripped to the floor. How much longer must I hold out?

As he ran towards her, she ran past him. He swung wildly and missed. She looked around for her sword one more time, but she still saw no sign of it. She resumed her rhythm of weaving and dodging.

Fortunately, each swing came slower and sloppier as the hobgoblin’s injuries caught up with him. As Tali prepared to evade another incoming strike, Dror Ragzlin suddenly lurched forward and lost his balance. He turned around, revealing an arrow protruding from his back.

On the floor above stood Lae’zel, bow in hand, readying another arrow. She pulled back the string.

Tali rushed Dror Ragzlin from behind, hooked her arms under his, and locked her hands together behind his head. He roared in pain as the maneuver yanked his broken arm, and he flailed against her. She wouldn’t be able to hold him for long, but she didn’t need to.

Lae’zel let loose her arrow, and it pierced the base of Dror Ragzlin’s throat. His roars turned to sputters and gurgles as blood gushed down his chest, and he went limp in Tali’s arms. She let him drop.

She looked up and saluted Lae’zel. “Perfect shots,” she panted.

The githyanki took a step back from the edge of the gaping floor and glanced across the pit at whatever was happening on Gale’s side. Tali moved around and craned her neck, trying to see. She heard the words of an incantation and the clangor of goblins screaming–but in pain or glee, she could not tell.

Lae’zel ducked out of sight, and an arrow flew from her new hiding spot and into the unseen fray. Tali searched for her sword while she listened to the battle.

Eventually she found her greatsword, spattered with a mixture of red and blue blood. Its weight dragged on her arms more than she liked, but in spite of that she carried it to the gate, eager to rejoin the fight now that she’d re-armed herself.

She wrapped a hand around one of the cold iron bars and peered out. Firelight flickered in the main hall, and in its uneven glow she made out the scampering figures of goblins in a panic. She also saw-–taunting her by jutting just out of reach on the other side of the bars-–a lever.

Gritting her teeth, she raised her sword with one hand and slid it between the bars to bat at the lever. It rewarded her with the tiniest clink and no movement, and in frustration, she brought it down against the lever with more force. The swing was imprecise, and she did not generate enough force to make the thing move. She had to withdraw; flexing her shoulder and chest like this made her dented armor dig into her torso painfully.

The fire still burned within. She set one hand against her chest and one against her throat, rolled her eyes back, and willed more healing energy into herself. At once she bent over, gagging, and coughed up a large glob of blood. But when she straightened again, holding herself up by the bars of the gate, she felt somewhat refreshed.

“Get me out!” she called, her voice finally clear.

No sound returned but the ongoing, indecipherable goblin cries. One of the small shapes stopped moving and fell, probably to an arrow. Tali squinted, trying to get a better sense of what was going on, but to no avail. She shook the bars.

“OPEN THIS BLOODY GATE!” she screamed.

“A bit busy at the moment.” It was Gale’s voice, breathless and anxious. “We’ll find you a way out of there as soon as we can. Ignis!”

A goblin burned up with a shriek. The smell of singed flesh and hair mingled with the woodsmoke in the air.

Godsdammit, Tali thought. Where’s Aradin?

She was left to wonder. The fight raged on and eventually died down without her. Her battle-eagerness subsided, too, and in its absence exhaustion threatened to overtake her. When at last the fight ended and the last sounds in the ruin were the echoes of her companions’ footsteps, they found Tali sitting on the ground with her face pressed against the bars.

She slowly turned to look at them and was dismayed to see only three: Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale. She grabbed onto the gate to pull herself to her feet.

Gale tsked at her. “You really did take a beating.”

“It seems we all did,” Tali replied. None of the others were quite as dented as she was, but each had their share of scrapes, bruises, and burn marks.

Shadowheart pulled the lever, and Tali stepped back from the gate as it opened. She picked up her greatsword and stepped through.

“What happened to the others?” she asked.

“The mercenaries?” Lae’zel said. “Perhaps their cowardice overcame them again.”

“Or perhaps they ran off once the fighting was done to look for their Nightsong, or for anyone they left behind before who might still be alive.” Shadowheart looked uncertain even as she suggested it.

Tali set her jaw. “Those three had better not be dead.”

Under her direction, her companions quickly picked over the nearby corpses, but the only humans they found were the two cultists who had accompanied Dror Ragzlin. It came as a relief; Tali had not brought the mercenaries to their deaths, at least not yet. On the other hand, it meant she truly had no idea where they were.

“Split up,” she said. “The archdruid is being kept here, and there’s no knowing what other prisoners the goblins might have. Keep your eyes open for any survivors and our mercenary allies.”

“And for a drow,” Gale added. “We’ve slain a goblin priestess and a hobgoblin warlord. Impressive enough, yes, but that only makes two out of three. We’d best not let our guards down yet.”

Shadowheart nodded. “Yes. But first, Tali, might I suggest you take a moment to look over your wounds? You look as though a dragon stepped on you.”

Tali grimaced. Her armor had continued to dig into her torso, constricting her like a python. “Fine. Someone help me out of this armor, and I’ll take a healing potion before we start searching.”

“You’re going to need something much stronger than that,” Gale remarked, “but I suppose full recovery will have to wait.” He stepped forward to help her.

Tali waved him off. “Not you. I don’t think you’ve touched a suit of armor in your life, and we have to be swift in case anyone is in danger.”

Gale held up his hands. “As you say.”

Shadowheart and Lae’zel set about disassembling Tali’s armor and gingerly pulling it away from her body. Soon enough, Tali’s gear was arrayed in a heap on the ground. She rolled her sore shoulders, but even free of her armor’s bulk, she felt heavy and crooked.

“Fan out,” she ordered. “If you find any more goblin forces, do not engage. Regroup in the rafters if you can. Lae’zel, check on Wyll and give him a status report.”

Her allies muttered their understanding, and per her command, they scattered.

Chapter Text

In Priestess Gut's personal chambers Tali found a massive lump of dead flesh, an ogre, face-down in a pool of blood that covered most of the floor. The blood was only slightly sticky as Tali walked over it. Fresh.

Other footprints preceded her. She bent down to take a closer look at them, leaning heavily on her sword for support. She had never been much of a tracker, but she thought she could make out at least two different boot sizes, both too large for goblins.

Straightening, she rubbed her back gently. She had no idea how many bones Dror Ragzlin’s warhammer had broken. Inwardly she admitted that she probably should have taken the time to properly rest before searching for the missing mercenaries after all, but she couldn't leave them to wander the dangerous ruin unaccounted for.

She followed the bloody footprints away from the dead ogre and deeper into the temple, down a rough-hewn hall and into a large, square room. Great stone columns supported the ceiling, from which a slender beam of sunlight shone down through a hole. The light illuminated strangely carved discs on the floor, each bearing smaller discs of its own, some dark and some opalescent.

Tali stooped to inspect the discs. They were outlined by deep grooves, so she placed a hand on one and tried to move it. To her satisfaction, it began to spin.

She stood back and tapped her chin, realizing she was standing on a puzzle of some kind. How had Aradin's crew gotten past it? She saw no sign of them in this room, except for the footprints.

She wanted to smack herself for her foolishness. The footprints. She couldn't waste her time on a puzzle when she already had a trail.

The footprints faded the further they went until they became faint stamps in the dust. Tali followed them to the far side of the room, and she realized with a start that part of the wall was missing. A great door yawned open before her, leading to a passage that wound into darkness. It would have exceeded her darkvision, if not for a faint glow emanating from around the bend. She strode down the passage.

At its end, she found that the glow came from a pit in the ground. It looked like a natural cavern formation-–or at least what Tali imagined a natural cavern formation to look like–-except for one side, which had been carved smooth to make way for a ladder. The last streaks of the ogre’s blood adorned the steps.

Looking down into the shaft made Tali’s head spin, and the integrity of the ladder seemed somewhat dubious. There was no telling how old it was, but the adventurers seemed to have come this way. If it was good enough for them, then surely the ladder would support an unarmored Tali.

She sheathed her sword, grit her teeth in anticipation of the pain, and started down the ladder.

The climb strained her already damaged body. The last few days had been the most demanding Tali had experienced since her final day at her home temple, but the near-nonstop fighting had yet to do her in. She looked forward to finding Halsin and getting the tadpole out of her head so she could slow down, but for now she thanked the gods she still had the strength to keep moving.

By the time she reached the bottom of the shaft and staggered onto the smooth stone ground, she was dizzy and fatigued. She turned around, finding herself in an apparent extension of the aboveground temple; symbols of Selune dotted the walls, and a statue in the center of the structure held aloft a magically illuminated crystal. The crystal's moonlike glow shone down on three familiar humanoid figures.

Tali was indignant to find them relatively unharmed; all were certainly in better shape than she and her companions. They must have left the battle early and taken the ogre by surprise on their way down here, heedless of events back in the temple proper. She took a deep, tight breath.

They heard her coming. Remira nocked an arrow and took aim, only to lower her bow when she saw Tali–a first–and Barth glanced her way briefly before returning his attention to the group's leader. Aradin turned around slowly, his head bent to look down at a book in his hands. When at last he raised his eyes to look at Tali, she saw in them a cool, calm anger that shocked her.

“It's a dead end,” he muttered, snapping the book shut. “No Nightsong, no nothing.”

Tali stopped before reaching the main floor of the chamber and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. “You quit the fight.”

Aradin scoffed. “The fight must be nice and over, if you found the time to get out of your armor and chase us down here.”

“It was dire up there,” Tali said through clenched teeth. “We could have used every hand.”

“You made do.” He tossed the book aside, and a couple of pages came loose as it landed half-open on the ground. “Those gobbos almost killed my whole crew before. Somebody ended up on a spit outside, for Tymora’s sake. I weren't about to feed Barth and Remira to them, too.”

“Splitting up could have resulted in that exact thing.”

“Did it?”

Tali scowled.

Aradin stepped towards her. “We joined this operation of yours for one reason, and that's the Nightsong. So we came looking for it.” He held out his arms, gesturing to the vacant outpost around them. “It ain't here, though, so we don't owe you a thing.”

“That's not how it works,” Tali protested.

“Got a contract on you? No. Didn't think so.” He got right in her face, so close she could smell the steel and sweat on him and see her own bruised face reflected in his eyes. He lowered his voice and gave her a dark look. “If sacrificing the rest of my crew is what it takes to get you off my back, you're in for a long ride, Points.”

Tali bristled. “You're the one who left your men to die in the first place!”

Tension along his shoulders and a twitch in his eye warned Tali of what would come next. She opened her mouth, ready to talk him down like she had during his confrontation with Zevlor, but his fist flew at her before she had the chance. She reached out to catch his wrist, but her aim was sloppy, and her feeble defense didn't even soften the blow.

The impact wrenched her neck to the side and sent her reeling. A moment ago, she'd been staring into Aradin’s eyes, burning with anger, but now she floated in a mess of wall and ceiling and maybe floor. She stepped back, instinctively raising her hands to protect her head.

“You don’t know nothing,” he spat. “Some of us have lives to get back to and can’t die every noble fucking death that comes at us. You can’t help yourself, but you ain’t everybody. We can’t make ourselves responsible for every idiot who don’t know when he’s outmatched.”

Tali’s horns felt too heavy, but she righted herself enough to look at him.

“That was uncalled for!” she shouted back, tenderly touching her wounded head. “I brought you here to give you a second chance of finding this artifact–since it’s so bloody important to you–and a chance to rescue anyone who fell before, or at least avenge the dead. And it was a second chance for you, for your-–”

She stopped herself when realization struck her like lightning. He had resisted her righteous exhortations nearly from the moment they met, but never with malice. Her confusion lifted, and she finally understood where his opposition came from. It was her. The look in his eyes was not anger, or rather, it was an anger like hers: rage born of loss, of pain, perhaps of fear. If he felt true, personal resentment, Tali had bred and nurtured it.

The bodies from the past surfaced in her mind again, bobbing on a red sea. As she had on her final day at the Tyrran temple, she sank to her knees on cracked stone.

“You already know,” she finished, feeling stupid. “You know everything I could say.”

Aradin snorted. “What finally got that through your thick skull?”

Tali shook her head. She felt as though her brain was swishing around, but maybe that was the tadpole again. In her silence, the mercenaries ignored her.

“Where to next, boss?” Remira asked.

“Back up,” Aradin replied. “If this one found her way down, the place might be clear enough to sneak out. Better than the Underdark, at least.”

“What if the journal is a trick?” Barth said. “What if someone left it here to try and get people like us to stop looking?”

“It might be. Got a new map for us?”

“Erm… no.”

“Then it’s still a dead end. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about the foulblood?” Remira asked.

“What about her? She got down on her own. I think she’ll crawl back out.”

The remark pulled Tali back out of her reverie. She didn’t stop seeing the dead faces; instead of shaking them off, she let them fuel the inner fire. She might need it. Slowly, clumsily, she rose to her feet.

However, as she turned back around the way she’d come, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. This Underdark outpost was crumbling, its once-grand windows rippling under their own weight. One panel of windows gaped open, its jagged edges framing nothing but darkness on the other side. Tali took a step towards it, trying to make out whatever she might have spotted.

“Look at her now,” Barth murmured. “I’ll take up the rear and keep an eye on her if she follows us.”

Tali slowly looked back to the mercenaries. “I think we’re being watched.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a thin line of green magic shot through the empty window and struck Barth. He yelled out in pain and tried to take cover behind the statue.

Tali gazed out the window. A slender eyestalk rose over the level of the floor, and following it came a round body, a disconcertingly wide smile, and a massive main eye. It glistened in the moon crystal’s radiance as it scanned the room, eventually landing on Tali.

I’ll be damned, she thought as she drew her sword. Some sort of beholderkin. I'll never get a break.

“GO!” she shouted. She started towards the monster, intending to place herself between it and the mercenaries; her oath permeated her body with a low level of divine protection magic, which she trusted to keep her safe from the creature’s eye rays.

Before she made it halfway across the chamber, the creature shot a second line of energy, this one marked by a faint pink glimmer. Tali tried to sidestep, but it streaked through the air faster than one of Wyll’s eldritch blasts. It caught her side. Enchantment magic seized her body, freezing her muscles.

Tali’s heart beat a furious rhythm. Paralyzed and unarmored, she could only watch in horror as the monster hovered in through the window panel and loomed over her. It opened its mouth, peeling back thin lips to reveal rows of long teeth. She tried to close her eyes to brace herself against the pain, but even her eyelids would not budge.

“MOVE, you idiot!”

Tali screamed out in her mind that she wished she could. The beholderkin opened its mouth wide, and hot, rank breath filled Tali’s nostrils.

Before the jaws could snap shut around her, an arm hooked around her midriff and yanked her aside. The impact jostled her sword from her grip, and it fell from her impotent grasp.

Whoever had grabbed her swept her into the air, disorienting her anew, and threw her over their shoulder like a sack of vegetables. She looked down, but all she could make out in this light was a tunic and boots, speeding away from the monster.

Function returned to her limbs. She wriggled.

“Hold still!” her carrier scolded.

“Aradin?”

She hit the stone hard when he dropped her unceremoniously at the bottom of the ladder. She clutched her head.

“My sword,” she said. She stood and looked into the main room of the temple. Her heart sank when she saw how quickly the beholderkin flew around the statue and turned its great eye towards its fleeing prey. She took a step forward, looking around for the glint of her fallen weapon.

Aradin grabbed her arm to stop her. “Don’t you dare go back for it. Climb.”

Tali looked up. Barth and Remira were already on the ladder, scrambling up it as quickly as they could. Aradin let go of her and started after his companions.

Tightening her jaw, Tali looked back at the monster, considering it. Two eyestalks swiveled towards her, and in them glimmered a threatening light. She gave up on the idea of recovering her sword, jumped onto the ladder, and followed the mercenaries.

A rasping echoed from below, and the creature’s shadow blotted out the crystal’s light, throwing the four climbers into darkness. Tali’s eyes adjusted at once, and when she looked down, she saw a stalk creep through the shaft’s entrance and point up towards her.

Green light lit up the pitch-dark cavern, and Tali clung to the ladder and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of pain. Nothing touched her, though, and the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared. A cry sounded above her.

“My arm!” Remira shouted.

“Keep climbing!” Aradin yelled back.

The column kept up the pace, though Tali struggled to keep up. She’d thought climbing down was bad; climbing up proved even worse. Her arms burned, and the entire time she feared another beam would come hurtling towards her and knock her off the ladder. The creature was too large to fit in the shaft, but she had no idea how far its eye rays could travel.

Another paralysis ray shot up the pit, but it fizzled out without finding its target. Tali looked up, craning her neck in hopes of seeing the top of the pit. She couldn’t make out anything beyond Remira’s vague shape, and even that was frequently obscured by the people between them.

Finally, the frantic creaking of the ladder lessened, and boots sounded on stone. They had reached the top. Remira dragged herself out of the shaft first, followed by Barth, then Aradin, then Tali. Tali staggered to the nearest wall and leaned back against it, staring up at the cave ceiling while she willed her heart to slow back down.

“Somebody light a torch,” Aradin ordered. Tali heard someone start rummaging through a pack, and she stood up straight.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Fiat lux.”

At the snap of her fingers, blue flame ignited, wrapping around her hand with a comfortable warmth. Producing flame had been one of the first magical skills she’d learned, thanks to her tiefling heritage. The mercenaries recoiled at the display of infernal magic, but they had bigger worries.

“Shit, that was close,” Remira hissed. She held out her arm, which bore a large pale mark, and squeezed it tight. She looked at Tali. “You can fix this, right?”

Tali grimaced. “Ordinarily, yes, but not now. I spent my healing energy in the fight with Dror Ragzlin.”

Remira scowled. “Lot of bloody good, you are.”

Tali cast an accusatory eye towards Aradin and Barth. If they hadn’t thrown Ragzlin down into the pit with her, she might not have needed as much healing as she had. But then again, she might have found herself even worse off if the hobgoblin hadn’t taken care of the giant spiders. She could be a corpse oozing with poison right now.

She held her peace, and instead of complaining, she tipped her head inquisitively at Aradin. “Why did you save me?”

He snorted. “You might’ve survived that thing on your own. And if you did, I didn’t want you coming after me again for ‘quitting a fight.’”

Tali didn’t know if that was in jest, since she’d already done more than her share of judging and chastising for that exact thing. She shifted uncomfortably.

“And if that thing kept shooting,” Aradin added, “I wanted it to hit you first.”

Surely that was a joke. Tali managed a small smile. “Very funny.”

He, however, did not smile. He looked up the passageway. “Thanks for the light, Points. Now get us out of here.”

Chapter Text

By the sound of it, the celebration had already started. Tali felt a pang of jealousy. She had no problem being late to the party; in fact, she was reluctant to be a part of it at all. They all just sounded so happy, and while they drank and laughed and sang together, a sense of the love and kinship they shared filled the air with overwhelming peace.

It was anathema to Tali. She ran a hand through her hair one more time, hoping she had successfully washed all the blood out of it. It slapped against her neck, still wet. Maybe she could wait until it had dried, and by then many of the party-goers would be too drunk to think anything of her.

But how could she bear to listen to them for all that time? She sighed and hung her head. Resigning herself to an awkward evening, she checked her reflection in the river one last time. Then she stood up, brushed off her knees, and turned towards the camp.

Before she had taken two steps, she nearly ran to Wyll as he emerged from behind a nearby bush. She hurriedly stepped aside and gestured for him to walk past her.

His eyes widened at her in surprise. His eyes softened, and he smiled. “You too, hm?”

“What?”

“Getting a moment away from the party.” He gestured over his shoulder.

A breeze on her skin made Tali aware of how exposed she was in her new outfit. She clasped her hands nervously. “I have yet to join the party at all, actually.”

Wyll raised an eyebrow.

“I had a lot of washing-up to do,” Tali explained, a little too quickly. “I hadn’t taken a full bath in a while, with everything going on. I wanted to present well for the party.”

He sent a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you’re presenting very well. Go on, dance, enjoy yourself.”

Tali nodded. She looked into his one good eye, so warm and dark and earnest, and suddenly blurted out, “I’m sorry, Wyll.”

“What for?”

“We haven’t tracked down that devil yet. I swear to you, regardless of how many creatures and cretins have risen up for us to slay, I remember your mission. I still mean to help you see it through.”

He gave a half-chuckle. “Was that rehearsed?”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounded awfully formal.”

“Ah. I'm… sorry.”

He clapped her on the back. “Relax, Tali. I know, and I trust that we’ll soon find Karlach and ensure she does no harm on this plane.” He looked her up and down, as if noticing her outfit for the first time. “Didn’t you pull that out of the drow’s wardrobe?”

Tali glanced down at herself. The new outfit showed more of her bumpy, jagged body than she was accustomed to and left her open to the cold river air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Erm, yes,” she said. “It turned out to fit me quite well, and it’s much cleaner than anything else I could wear.”

“Fair enough.” He stepped aside and gestured towards the camp proper. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She nodded sharply, as if responding to orders, and strode past him. Wyll stood on the beach and gazed out over the water, taking her spot in the serenity by the river, while Tali steeled herself for the chaos of the party.

No sooner had she left the beach than a brightly-dressed tiefling woman ran up and pressed a cup into her hand. The woman said something that Tali didn’t quite catch and laughed. Tali tried to smile along, feeling lost.

“I’m feeling inspired,” the woman declared, holding high a goblet of wine. “Thinking of writing my next song-–about you!”

While the woman talked, Tali studied her face, trying to put a name to it. Alice? Fiona? Inwardly she kicked herself; the main reason she’d gone after the goblins had been to make the roads safe for these refugees, yet she barely remembered any of their names.

“I don’t know anything about songs,” Tali admitted. “I’ll trust your expertise.”

“Give me a theme, at least,” the woman said. “Any ideas?”

Tali cast about in her mind. Did she even know any songs, other than victory hymns?

“Erm… courage,” she said at last. “It took a lot of bravery to take the fight to the goblins and their leaders.” She realized how egotistical that must have sounded, calling herself courageous, and quickly added: “I mean, not for me. I’m not brave, not really. I was just doing what had to be done.”

The woman frowned, but then she smiled. She wrapped an arm around Tali’s shoulders and gave her a quick side hug.

“I’ll include a verse about your extreme humility,” she said. She let go of Tali and strode across the camp, calling out for more wine.

Tali watched her leave. Alfira, she realized.

“Enjoy the party, Alfira!” she said, raising her voice above the general noise of the celebration.

Alfira looked over her shoulder and might have said “Thank you,” but Tali couldn’t quite tell. There was so much noise and nothing to really draw her focus. She considered going back to the beach, where she didn’t have to remember names or have ideas. Instead she took a sip of the drink Alfira had given her. It was some sort of dry, bitter wine, and she hoped a bit of intoxication would make her feel less lost.

More of the Elturel refugees swarmed around her, and time became a blur. Most of them wanted to shake her hand and thank her, some wanted to offer her food or drinks, and one kind-looking man held out a handful of papers.

Tali frowned at them. He’d said something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it had been.

“What was that?” she asked, as politely as she could.

“Your signature, if you please,” he said. A smile pushed his extra-red cheeks into his eyes. “I’m getting autographs from as many of you as I can, so the children will have tokens to remember the adventurers who saved them. They’ll tell stories to their own children, you know.”

“The papers will rot,” Tali said.

“Not in the hands of people who’ll cherish them,” the kind-looking man said. He held out the papers again, alongside a charcoal pencil. “If you’re willing, this will make for a very special gift.”

Tali took the papers and pencil from his hands. They all already bore one name: Wyll’s. Each time he’d signed, he’d added a little doodle of a sword. They made Tali smile. She wished she could draw.

She sat down on a flat rock to start signing, but as the pencil hovered over the pages, she paused. “Retaliation” was a name for a destroyer, not a savior, and it felt strange to even write “Tali,” the shortened version. But she couldn’t put her old name.

It didn’t matter. The children wouldn’t know where her nickname came from. She started signing “Tali,” thinking her name looked plain and crooked next to Wyll’s beautiful cursive. She passed the papers back to the kind-looking man.

He beamed at the autographs as if he didn’t think them odd or underwhelming in the least. “Thank you so much, Tali. For these, and of course, for everything else.”

“You’re welcome.”

The man walked away, probably to seek out another companion. Tali silently wished him luck getting Lae’zel to sign anything and hoped his feelings wouldn’t be too hurt if the githyanki said something particularly untoward.

Tali stood up and almost tripped; something had snagged her tail. She turned to find a child tugging on it to get her attention. As soon as she met his eyes, he grinned, baring his sharp teeth, and held up a stick-figure drawing.

“For you!” he announced.

Tali bent down to inspect it. It seemed he’d only had access to black ink, so she had almost no way to distinguish one figure from another. One of them had swirly lines coming out of its head; she could only assume that one represented her.

“It’s very well done,” she said. “You’re an artist, aren’t you?” She didn’t actually know what would constitute skillful for someone his age.

The boy’s smile widened. “You can keep it!”

Before Tali could protest, the boy shoved the drawing into her hands and sped away, presumably to find his parents or perhaps Mol. That was one name she did know.

Frowning, she stood up straight and held the picture out in front of her. One figure was mostly a triangle; was that meant to be Gale in his robe? Dozens of smaller stick figures dotted the bottom of the page with scribbles around their necks and crudely drawn arrows protruding from their bodies, clearly representing slain goblins. A violent scene for a child to draw, to be sure, but rendered with such excitement and joy that Tali couldn’t fault it.

Something was off. She frowned and looked at it closer. She’d identified herself and Gale, which left Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. She couldn’t tell which was which, especially since, to her surprise, there were a few extra figures. The boy must have seen Tali’s band and Aradin’s leave the Grove together before the attack on the goblin camp. Naturally he would have assumed that all eight were united in a heroic mission, ignorant to the group’s split motivations.

Tali sighed. Everything was simple to children. She wished things would be simple for her again. She took a deep swig of wine.

The party felt eternal. When the torches sputtered and threatened to burn out, new ones were lit, and the starry sky overhead seemed unchanging. Everyone kept drinking, dancing, cartwheeling, japing, and singing, and if any of those things worsened as the booze ran dry, Tali couldn’t tell. They laughed and laughed and laughed. Even the three mercenaries-–who were around here somewhere and whose voices occasionally made themselves heard through the chaos–-seemed to be enjoying themselves at last. Tali hoped their fourth member was one of the laughing voices she heard. After his ordeal in the goblins' clutches, she wouldn't fault him if he wasn't.

She didn’t get another cup of wine when she finished her first; instead, she snuck back to the river to get a sip of water. When she returned, she discovered she had much less talking to do than before. Everyone had gotten what they wanted of her, it seemed, and they left her in peace while they enjoyed each other’s high spirits. At first, that came as a relief, but soon, the sense of isolation she’d feared before the party set in. She knew you were supposed to talk to people at parties, or play games, or at least tell jokes. What she didn’t know was how to actually do any of those things.

A hand on her shoulder saved her from her lostness, and Gale appeared at her side.

“Have the joyful celebrants kept you busy?” he said in a way that suggested he knew the answer. “If you like, we could take a moment’s reprieve.”

“I’ve had about enough of a reprieve,” Tali said glumly.

“Then a moment of magic,” Gale offered. “I have something I’d love to share with you.”

Tali frowned. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

“Forgiven you? For what?”

She hunched her shoulders. “For when I turned over Astarion, and for all the fights I’ve picked.”

Gale sighed. “I understand what you did and why you do what you do. I did not agree with those decisions-–I still don’t–-but I respect them. They were practical, and as loath as I am to say it, they’re probably in the best interests of our little team more often than not.”

“That’s good,” Tali said. It was good to be understood.

“Then it’s a yes to magic?”

She nodded.

Gale drew her into a corner of the camp the torchlight barely reached and where they could stay safely out of the party-goers’ sight. The grass here stood tall and dewy, untrodden by heedless dancers, and Tali could finally hear the river again.

“How familiar are you with arcane magic?” Gale asked.

“Not very. I can do a little as a tiefling, but I never learned how any of it works.”

“That’s understandable. As for me, magic is… my life.” He took a deep, contented breath. “I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There’s nothing like it. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses.” He held out a hand, as though he could offer her magic itself. “Would you like to experience this as I do?”

Tali took his hand. “Yes, I would.”

“Then follow my lead.” He pulled her to his side so they were standing parallel and began to perform the somatic components of a spell.

As he moved, fingers delicately and precisely tugging on something unseen, light sparked from his fingers. A gently glowing wisp fell from his hands, fizzled, and popped out of existence. He looked expectantly at Tali.

She’d always learned best by watching and doing; it was how she’d picked up the basics of combat from the Tyrran priests. Doing her best to recall the exact movements Gale had made, she focused intently on the air in front of her and mimicked him.

To her delight, a ball of light like the one he’d conjured appeared in front of her, and just like the previous one, it vanished as quickly as it came. Even with the wisp gone, a heady happiness filled her, a sense both comforting and encouraging. She looked back at Gale.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

Tali used verbal components in her own tiefling spells, so she found it easy enough to repeat after him: “Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

The words echoed and reverberated, as if something outside of herself was speaking with her and adding its voice to hers. Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she smelled the roses from the temple gardens, and the sound of the river rushing by transformed into the soft burble of the stream where she’d played as a little girl.

“Very good,” Gale said, eyes alight with excitement. “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”

Harmony. When had Tali last known peace? The scent of roses almost overwhelmed her, fragrant in the late spring air. She saw the seasons pass once more, and their petals fell to the ground and floated along in the wind. She’d collected them and pressed them, hoping to keep them forever, but she hadn’t done a very good job. The limp remains of the roses had wilted and fallen apart, but the priests did not fault her. One of them, more a reader than a warrior, had taught her how to do it right, and the next year she had a book full of flowers.

For a moment Tali could feel the pulpy paper against her fingers again, and despite the night that surrounded her, she basked in the warmth of the sun through the windows of her little room. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, as if anticipating a jolt of lightning, and the air around her seemed to hum and glow.

When she’d opened the book and seen the flowers intact but flat, like the most perfect drawings in the world, she’d looked back at the priest to thank her. The priest, Cleric Lisha, had smiled down. She’d been a dwarf with short sideburns, graying hair, and a scar along her jaw. Whenever she smiled, the scar would scrunch up, and Tali had always thought it looked uncomfortable. But the priest never minded. She almost never minded anything. She was unconquerable.

No more.

The smiling face twisted, her eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped open. Tali no longer saw Lisha through the eyes of a nine-year-old child holding flowers. Blood sullied the dwarf’s braids, and fresh wounds split her skin. Tali couldn’t see the floor; it was like the entire temple had been flooded by a red tidal wave.

The stream stopped burbling. The roses stopped blooming. She no longer felt the rough edges of her book’s pages. It had slipped from her grasp and fallen into that ocean of blood. Cold stone pressed against her knees. The stains would never wash out.

Tali recoiled from the memory, and the air became dark and chilly again. The electric feeling dissipated all at once.

She hadn’t realized how hard she was breathing. She wiped cold sweat from her brow and bent over to steady herself. It was real, but it wasn’t here. It wasn’t now. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to see their faces, but the ghoulish things wouldn’t leave. Why had they died so afraid?

“No,” Gale said. He sounded disappointed. “I’m sorry, but it looks like magic’s not in the cards tonight. Perhaps I’m not quite the teacher I fancy myself to be.”

Tali opened her mouth, about to tell him that it wasn’t his fault but hers.

“In any case,” he continued, “don’t blame yourself. Mystra can be a fickle mistress. Coy to a tee.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Thank you, Tali. I shan’t keep you any longer.”

He left. The breeze caressed Tali’s bare shoulders and neck, a little too much like the bone-chilling touch of a death cleric’s spells. A shiver ran through her body, but even after it passed, her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

She clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. The camp was dotted with training dummies, and luckily for her, the nearest one stood only two paces away. Balling her hands into fists, she charged and gave it a hard jab.

WHAM. WHAM. WHAM.

Each time she struck the dummy, its wooden body shook, and she felt the impacts all the way up her arms and down her back.

CRUNCH.

Her knuckles smarted, but her calluses and the little bony ridges under her skin meant she didn’t hurt herself. At least not yet.

FWMP.

With a leaping kick, she put a dent in the side of the dummy’s potato-sack head.

WHAM.

With one last strike, it fell. Tali stood back, dissatisfied. The targets at the temple had been at least ten times as strong as this pathetic, ramshackle piece. They would withstand Tali for hours of practice at a time. All her punching, kicking, and cutting would wear them down, but still they stood. Everything in the temple always stood strong.

She stomped hard on the dummy’s head for good measure, then turned and stalked away. The party was slowing but ongoing. She ignored the others, and they ignored her. Their sounds of joy, increasingly slurred and clumsy, became a background blur, no more significant than the rustling trees and the rippling river.

Fresh casks sat out along a natural rock shelf, keeping the wine flowing despite the late hour. Tali seized a cup, filled it to the brim, and gulped it down with abandon.

It wasn’t fair. The rest of the party was practically drowning in alcohol by now, and it made them all so happy. They giggled, and when they stumbled and fell, they only laughed harder. Despite their circumstances, the refugees were so damn happy.

Tali’s blood burned in her veins. She got another cup.

Time spun. There’d been clocks in the temple, and she’d always gone to bed by ten and woken up by six. Now she had no way to know how late the hour was; her only indication was how many people had gone to sleep. One by one, two by two, the refugees retired to their tents to sleep off the celebration.

Eventually, Tali became aware of the camp’s emptiness. Her companions and Halsin were nowhere to be seen, and the only tieflings still outside their tents had passed out on the ground. Three-–siblings, she thought, and they seemed like people she might have talked to before-–huddled together against a large stone, snoozing peacefully.

Tali also realized where she was. She’d stopped paying attention to the world at some point. Maybe she had even dozed off. As a result, she didn’t know until this moment that she was sitting with her ass in the dirt and her tail in a puddle of ale. She picked herself up, grumbling something even she didn’t understand.

She rummaged through the cups and bottles near the casks. A few fell as her graceless arm swept them aside, but the camp did not stir at the noise. She found what she was looking for: a full bottle. Her vision swam when she tried to read the label–-a product of her drunkenness and the ever-present lostness–-so she gave up. Bottle in hand, she made her way from the camp proper and towards the little ruined building wasting away across a tributary stream.

The stream glittered in the firelight and the somewhat fainter moonlight. It looked almost magical. Tali staggered across the fallen-log bridge, and the water beneath her bent strangely, rising up towards her first on one side, then on the other. For a moment she thought she might fall in, be seized by the stream and sucked along into the Chionthar, but she made it to the other side safe and dry.

Ahead of her loomed the ruined building, no larger than a cottage but made imposing by its crooked shadow. The goblins had made their base in a ruin, and they’d drunk and drunk and drunk. Tali chuckled to herself; wouldn’t it be funny if a handful of Absolutists happened along just now and gave her the same treatment she’d given them?

She intended to find darkness and solitude in the crumbling structure, but when she staggered in, she found to her dismay that it was neither dark nor empty. A table that had probably been dragged here from the Emerald Grove took up much of the little room. At one end sat a low-burning lantern, and around it were rickety stools. A man occupied one, not quite asleep but not at his most alert, resting his head on his hand.

Tali tried to find it in her heart to care who it was, but she didn’t manage. She’d already walked all the way here. “Hey,” she said loudly. “Can I sit there?”

He looked up. Tali scowled, realizing at last it was Aradin. Gods, how drunk was she, that she didn’t recognize him?

He looked tired, but his eyes hadn’t lost their clarity. He hadn’t drunk nearly as heavily as the tieflings had, if he’d drunk at all tonight. He let out a sigh of exasperation. “It won’t stop you if I say no.”

“Tonight it might,” Tali muttered.

With another sigh, Aradin waved towards the stool furthest away from him. Tali staggered over and plopped herself down on it, setting her bottle on the table in front of her. She uncorked it and sniffed the contents. Smelled like booze.

As she took a sip, Aradin spoke up. “You a bloodhound or something?”

She swallowed and squinted at him. “What?”

“How come you always know where to find me?”

Tali shook her head. “I think the gods know where to find you. They must think you need something.”

“Yeah, right.” He went back to resting his head on his hand, facing pointedly away from her. “Why ain’t you drinking with your people?”

“My people? What, the tieflings?”

“Or your other people. The wizard, and the cleric, and the… yellow one?”

“The tieflings aren’t my people, you know,” Tali slurred, ignoring what he’d just said. “I don’t know any of ‘em. I think I only know four names.”

“Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

“I’m not related to any of ‘em. They act real familiar, but we don’t know each other. I met ‘em after I met you, for gods’ sake.” She took another drink. “People hate tieflings, you know.”

He gave her a wary look.

“That’s fine,” Tali went on. “You’ve never called me my name, and a lot of people never do. Doing that makes me more like a person. You ever think that’s why we give ourselves dumbass thing names? ‘Retaliation’ isn’t a name. It’s just a word. It’s easier for people to say than ‘Tali’ sometimes.”

Aradin’s expression turned to annoyance. “I ain’t in the mood for another sermon, and you ain’t in any state to give one.”

“It’s not a sermon. I’m just saying, tieflings all get these looks, you know. And they hear a lot of the same things. You see a tiefling, and you know at least one thing they’ve gone through. It makes ‘em think we’re kin, but I don’t know ‘em. I don’t even know how to talk to them.”

“Look, I said I didn’t mean nothing. Forget I said it.”

Tali fell silent for a moment. She turned the bottle around and around on the table. The label declared it to be ithbank. She’d had so much ithbank lately.

“Can I tell you something?” she said.

“I don’t think I could stop you.”

Tali lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, as if she could hide inside herself like a turtle. “Fine. Forget I said anything.”

Another moment of silence passed. Tali nursed her ithbank, sometimes glaring at the wall, sometimes glaring at the table. Was it her imagination, or was the lantern getting dimmer?

Aradin sighed again from the other end of the table. “Get it off your chest, Points.”

She gave him a dirty look. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He suddenly looked twice as tired. “‘Cause, you know, you got….” He held up his fingers to mime horns and fangs. “Pointy bits.”

Tali decided she’d allow it. Maybe it was better than ‘Retaliation.’ Maybe she should have signed all those papers as ‘Points.’ Maybe the kids would have found that fun, and maybe they would have liked their pointy hero even more. Maybe that would have been good for them, since they were pointy, too.

Tali huffed and lamented, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, I think we all figured that out,” Aradin said.

“I know, I know. It’s just–I thought I knew how it was all going to work… you know?”

“I don’t.”

She threw her hands up. “Slaying monsters! I've been doing it for a while now, right, and I figured the mind flayer thing was going to be the same. But now there’s people, and people want things. And I don’t know what to do with people. I keep getting ‘em all wrong. It wasn’t right to go after you, right? And I just didn’t get it. You can’t even beat sense into me. What if Astarion is dying right now, and I made that happen, and even with everything he did, he didn’t deserve it? What if I find Wyll’s devil tomorrow, and she’s a good devil?”

“A good devil?” Aradin said flatly. “You better put down that bottle.”

Tali instead took another swig. “I don’t know! Maybe devils can be good, and I wouldn’t know, because I know nothing.”

“Why are you saying all this shite?”

“I don’t know,” Tali repeated. She folded her hands on the table and rested her head on them. Maybe she could have talked to Gale, if she’d happened across him, or ever-sweet Wyll. But of course she hadn’t found either of them.

“I kind of wondered, you know," she continued, "but I don’t think he saw what I was thinking. He would be so nice about it if he saw it. The rest of ‘em, too. Or most of ‘em. They’d say things like ‘I understand’ and ‘I’m so sorry,’ ‘cause that’s what people always say. It's the same damn thing every time, and it doesn't make anybody less dead.” She morosely swirled her bottle, almost spilling alcohol across the table, and abruptly changed the subject. “Why do you s’pose they listen to me?”

Aradin gave no response.

Tali sighed. Why was she talking to him? She burped. “You know… maybe it’s ‘cause you won’t think less of me.”

The next silence was long and empty. Tali fixed her eyes on the crumbling wall across from her. The deep, black cracks seemed to become deeper and blacker, and the bricks danced away from her in a hypnotic pattern. Little plants she didn’t have names for sprouted in the darkness. They were pale and anemic, but pretty.

Her eyelids started to droop, but before she could doze off again she remembered something that might be important. Fighting her drowsiness, she reached into her pocket and extracted a folded paper.

“Here,” she said, “you should see something.”

Aradin leaned forward to get a better look at the paper in the dimming light. Tali unfolded it, revealing the drawing she’d received from the tiefling child earlier. She turned it around and pushed it towards Aradin.

After taking a moment to look it over, he met her eyes and gave her a long, cool stare. “Did you draw this?”

“No, it was a kid,” Tali said, offended. “One of the refugee kids. He came up to me at the party and gave me this. Look.”

“I looked.”

“No, look. Count ‘em.”

“Count what? And why?”

Tali tapped the stick figures. “There’s eight of ‘em. Know what that means?”

“That the kid had a lot of ink?”

Tali rolled her eyes, making herself dizzy. “No! It means….” She almost fell off the stool and barely caught herself. “It means he drew my crew and yours. The kid thinks you’re a hero, too.”

“What the Hells put that in his head?”

“I don’t know. But you killed some goblins of your own, and you know….” She took a long, thoughtful pause to finish off the ithbank. “You know, I think he’s more right than I was.”

They both looked at the drawing for a long moment. Tali wished she knew the little boy’s name. By now she didn’t remember his face. She couldn’t even remember if he was red or gray or blue or purple.

Aradin stood abruptly. “I should find a better spot to keep watch.”

Tali looked up. “Keep watch?”

“Someone has to, and you lot of drunkards ain’t it.” His eyes flicked down to the drawing one last time, then he turned on his heel and left the ruin.

With a sigh, Tali slumped back down onto the table. The lantern flickered and went out, leaving her in darkness. Moments later, her eyes drifted shut, plunging her into a black and dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Tali woke to someone shaking her shoulder, and not gently. Groaning, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had a kink in her back from sleeping on the table, and goosebumps covered her arms thanks to the chill of the night. She blinked groggily up at whoever had awakened her.

It was Lae’zel, ringed by a blinding halo of daylight. Tali held up a hand.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, trying and failing to sound awake.

“Halsin has called us together to assemble and decide our next course of action,” Lae’zel said. “Come.”

Tali rubbed her eyes again. Her head throbbed, and she felt a little sick to her stomach. How could she have let herself drink so much, knowing that that meager break from the action would end so soon?

She dragged herself off the old stool she'd spent the night on and followed Lae’zel out of the ruin and into the camp, berating herself for her excess the entire way. She had to keep her head down, or the harshness of the sun hurt her eyes.

True to Lae’zel’s words, the entire party had assembled around the campfire. Gale had a pan of bacon cooking, filling the air with its tantalizing sizzle. Tali’s mouth watered, and she realized how hungry and parched she was.

When she approached, the others turned to greet her, all with amiable warmth. Tali became ashamed of her distress the previous evening; she might not be the best with people, but these ones liked her well enough. Or at least, they seemed to.

She looked around. The rest of the campsite was mostly empty. All of the casks were gone, but a few bottles and cups remained to evidence last night's celebrations.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“The refugees from Elturel have moved on,” Halsin answered. Tali turned and had to look up to meet his eye, then right back down to avoid the bright light.

“Oh, here,” Shadowheart said.

She walked over to Tali, muttered a prayer, and set her palm against the tiefling’s forehead. Restorative magic washed over her, and the next time she blinked, the sun didn't seem harsh anymore. Her headache disappeared, and some of the aches in her back along with it. She stretched.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don't mention it.” Shadowheart seated herself on one of the logs that served as benches.

Gale began passing out pieces of bacon along with chunks of bread. Tali devoured her portion, then reflected that she should have tried to savor it. Once she was back on the road, she wouldn’t have juicy meat or fresh bread again for quite some time.

Halsin nodded. “Good. Now that we're all present and fed, allow me to offer what information I can about Moonrise.”

He went on to talk about a tower and a terrible curse and maybe something about Harpers. Tali tried to pay attention, but even though her hangover was gone, she still felt befuddled. She trusted Gale to remember all this and decided to let her mind wander.

She could remember most of the previous night, little of it good. She remembered autographs, a drawing, a bard, and the taste of cheap wine. She remembered Gale trying to teach her more about arcane magic, and she remembered the moment shattering when she'd messed it up. After that, she recalled drinking, though she didn't know how much, and she thought at some point she'd seen Aradin. She'd been angry; had she gone and picked another fight?

She shook her head to dispel the fog, but it didn't get any clearer. She didn't know what had happened in the latter hours of the party, and she didn't know how she'd ended up sleeping on a table in a ruin.

“What do you say?” Halsin said.

Tali returned to the present moment. Before she could embarrass herself by asking what he'd just said, her party members clued her in.

“I, for one, would welcome you to our camp,” Gale said.

Wyll agreed. “We're all in need of help. Far be it from me to turn it down when it's offered.”

“If you're as strong as you look, you may prove useful,” Lae’zel said.

“And having another ally never hurts,” Shadowheart added. She looked at Tali.

Tali nodded. “Yes. You will find yourself welcome here.”

Halsin smiled and thanked the group. Tali spent another moment racking her brain, trying to conjure up any memory of her last hour or so awake. Still nothing. The others spoke on, and she resigned herself to join them. Back to business.

Wyll rolled out a map of the Sword Coast and started pointing at different locations. “The nearest city is Baldur's Gate, from what I can tell,” he said. “We're in this region, and this is the Chionthar.” He tapped the squiggly line of the river. “And somewhere along here is this accursed land Halsin spoke of.”

“The fastest route is overland, through the mountain pass here,” Halsin said, bending over to get a closer look. “From there I know the way to Moonrise Towers, but it is a perilous path.”

“And the second way you mentioned?” Wyll prompted. “The underground route?”

“The entrance is somewhere in the old Selunite temple. I was hoping I might find it by joining Aradin’s attempted infiltration, but of course, that's when I got captured. Alas, during my time in the goblins’ clutches, I was unable to locate the Underdark entrance.”

“I found it,” Tali said.

“Truly?” Halsin gave a good-natured laugh. “Perhaps I should have gone with you instead of Aradin.”

“In fairness, he found it right before I did. But yes, I know where it is. A beholderkin of some ilk has made its lair just on the other side. Getting through will prove difficult.”

“Do not forget the creche,” Lae’zel said. “It remains our last and only hope for a cure.”

Gale looked doubtful. “Our little dream visitor indicated quite clearly that our tadpoles possess a unique magic. We may have to put our search for a cure on hold until we are able to reach Moonrise and learn more.”

“Tchk. Go, then. But know that I will not allow any of you to keep me from my cure.”

“I wouldn't want to,” Tali said. “I trust you more than I trust this dream figure, Lae’zel. Your people know more about mind flayers than anyone. If there's any chance of removing these parasites, it'll be at that creche. We'll find it.”

“Good.”

“We should still also prioritize Moonrise Towers,” Tali continued. “If this is a stronghold of the Absolutists, and if more unusual tadpoles are still coming out of it, we must purge it.”

The others nodded their assent.

“I think we should at least scout this Underdark passage,” Halsin said, “if you're willing.”

“If we can get past the beholderkin,” Tali reminded him. “It will be a hard-won fight, if we manage to win it at all.”

“Oh!” Wyll suddenly sat upright. “That reminds me. And here I quite nearly forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

Wyll didn't answer. He got to his feet and hurried to his tent, then returned just as quickly with an extremely long object in his hands. He held it gingerly as he stepped around the group to avoid hitting anyone with it. As he approached, Tali realized she was looking at the sturdy haft of a polearm with an oilcloth obscuring its head.

Wyll presented it to her. “Dammon left this for you. He heard you'd lost your greatsword.”

Tali took the weapon with wide eyes. She was trained with polearms, but it had been a long time since she'd wielded one, and she'd never held one of this size and weight. She cast off the oilcloth to reveal the wicked point and curved blade of a halberd.

“It's beautiful,” she murmured, awed, as she ran a hand across its head. She turned away from the group to hold it upright and give it a test swing, then a forward thrust. “And it feels good, too. Dammon is the smith?”

“That's right,” Wyll said. “He's one of the refugees.”

Tali nodded. Now that he’d reminded her, she knew the one. She promised herself that she'd remember his name.

“Well,” she said, smiling, “it seems we're ready to take up our journey once more.”

Wyll rolled up his map. “We're not working with much of a plan, but it's enough for me.”

“Is it wrong of me to hope we find no way past that beholderkin?” Gale said with a wry smile. “Roughing it in the woods is difficult enough. I'd rather not try it underground.”

“We'll work with what we get, as we have since day one,” Shadowheart said. Tali caught the pointed glance she cast at Lae’zel.

“I'll leave you all to make your preparations for the day's ventures,” said Halsin. “If we need to break camp, I stand ready to carry what I can.” With that, he withdrew to the edge of camp he seemed to have claimed as his own and sat cross-legged in the shade.

“I know he's a druid, but I'll keep an eye out for an extra tent we can borrow,” Wyll said. “He'll want the warmth in the Underdark and the shadow curse.”

Tali nodded. “Good idea. I'll leave that to you.”

“I'd offer to share if need be,” Shadowheart said, “but my tent sleeps one and that bear of an elf could use room for two.” She gave a short chuckle.

Her companions scattered to their own tents to don their armor and ready their gear. Lae’zel’s harsh voice rang through the camp as she demanded Wyll help her with her armor, and Wyll chided her as he acquiesced. Tali ducked into her own tent, gently leaned her new halberd against the tentpole, and set about piecing together her equipment.

Her armor, with its gold-embroidered tabard and symbol of Tyr, had not survived the assault on the goblin camp. For now she had an old, battered set of chainmail she'd scavenged from a dead traveler. It felt strange to wear–-it had been made for its original owner, and in an ideal situation, it would have remained with him–-but Tali put it on all the same. With a silent prayer, she swore that the dead man’s equipment would be put only to noble purpose.

When she re-emerged from her tent, halberd cradled in the crook of her arm, she found Shadowheart just outside waiting for her. The cleric caught her eye and leaned in close.

“I think there's someone else who wants to speak to you before we set out,” she whispered.

Tali frowned and looked about. The camp was still empty. “Who?”

“The mercenaries. They're on the rise overlooking the camp.” Shadowheart narrowed her eyes. “They must have really wanted to speak with you. Do you even know what time it is?”

“Late? Tali guessed, grimacing.

Shadowheart nodded. “They could have gone on their way a long time ago. You must have something important to settle.”

Tali groaned. So she had gotten into a fight. She must have.

“Thank you,” she said. “I suppose I'd better see what they want.”

“Feel free to share when you're done,” Shadowheart said, “if it's anything interesting.”

Tali nodded. As Shadowheart walked away, she started clambering up the stony wall that bordered the camp. The new chainmail shook and rang like chimes. It would take some getting used to.

As she neared the top, she made one last mental search, desperately seeking any concrete information that might reveal exactly what she’d done while drunk. When she came up dry once more, she set her jaw and resolved to forge onward in ignorance.

Tali hopped onto the top of the rocky heap, brushed herself off, and peered around at the woods. The underbrush helped shield the camp from dangerous eyes, and for a moment it likewise shielded the adventurers from Tali's. She soon spotted them in a small copse of trees. Remira had her eyes on the sky, bored out of her mind, and Barth sat with his back to a tree, whetting his sword. Liam sat cross-legged and hunched, looking around him nervously. Tali couldn't blame him; ever since Wyll and Lae’zel had broken him free, the young man had been furtive and jumpy, as if he suspected goblins around every tree. Aradin had his arms crossed and said something Tali couldn’t make out. He noticed her and peeled away from his companions.

She walked to meet him, scrutinizing him for anything that might disclose just what she'd done while drunk. He looked uninjured–-no bruises or new facial scars, at least–-but his stern expression told her nothing. Her mind ran in circles, searching for an apology or excuse that wasn't forthcoming.

“Well, well. You survived the night,” Aradin said.

“Was that in doubt?”

He snorted. “State you were in, you could have drowned in a puddle.”

Tali winced. “I'm sorry.”

“I'll pretend to forget it.” His mouth formed a twisted smile, but his eyes stayed dark.

Tali couldn't decipher what he meant. Was it mercy, a reassurance that whatever secrets lay in her drunken stupor would stay there? Or was it malice, a determination to hoard those same secrets until such a time as he needed them? It was time to find out, as nearly as she could.

“I… have a strange question,” she said. She glanced past him at his mercenaries and lowered her voice. “I don't actually know what I… did. How bad was I, exactly?”

“Bad.”

“What did I do?”

“It don't matter.”

“It might, if you know something I don't. I don't want this to dangle over my head later.”

“Don't get your knickers in a twist. Whatever you said, it was all nonsense. And you don't need to worry about me.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “We're leaving.”

“So are we,” Tali pointed out.

“I doubt you're going my way, Points. I heard some talk about a tower and a curse, and I ain’t been paid to get anywhere near that.”

“But that's where the mountain road leads. How will you get back to Baldur’s Gate?”

“You leave that to us, yeah? Besides, with my luck, you'll probably track us down again. Or you could look us up in the city.”

“What for?”

He smiled again, and this time it came with a sense of genuine mirth. “Most anything, if the pay is right. Beno Boys, adventurers for hire and all.”

Tali frowned. “‘Beno Boys’? Who came up with that name?”

“It's my name, you idiot.”

Tali stared blankly.

Aradin pointed to himself. “Aradin Beno? Any bells ringing in there?”

“Oh. That makes sense. In honesty, I didn't know your last name. Or that you had one.”

“‘Course I do.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Gods, you're dense. Tyr must be a real patient bloke.”

“It never came up,” Tali said defensively. “And you must be plenty patient yourself, if you waited all morning to talk to me. Did you stand around here just so you could advertise?”

“You bet your spiny arse.” He stepped closer and adopted a more familiar tone, one Tali didn't know how to take. “‘Tween you and me, you ain't so bad. You can sure as Hells take a hit, and you give as good as you get.”

“You're being awfully polite this”--Tali squinted up to gauge where the sun sat in the sky–-“morning.”

“So are you. I ain't got an earful yet. You going for a record?”

“I might be.” She crossed her arms. “What are you getting at?”

“Turns out we got some openings,” Aradin said wryly. “I’m going to need more people if I don’t want this thing to sink. You’d always get a fair share.”

“You’d hire a tiefling?”

“I hire people who can get their hands dirty.” A hint of doubt passed over his face, and he frowned back at his people. “These three are what I got left, and they’ll get used to you. To anyone who comes after, it’ll be like you were always there.”

Tali pondered for a moment. She already knew her answer-–the only answer she could give-–but she wanted to appreciate the proposal. No one had offered her a job before. What monsters she’d slain, she’d slain for free, and during the years before her abduction by mind flayers, she’d lived off of what priests and charitable individuals provided. Pay was a novel concept. Unfortunate that it would have to stay that way.

She shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll be working together again. I have a mission.”

“Think about it when the mission's over.”

Tali shook her head. “I'm a paladin. I swore a holy oath to hunt and slay evil, and that mission never ends.”

For a moment, Aradin looked genuinely disappointed. Then he turned aside, and Tali could tell he was trying to appear unbothered, though his forced casual air betrayed him. He must have been truly desperate for recruits.

“Suit yourself," he said. He started to walk away.

Tali called after him, “But I will send word if I find any new leads on the Nightsong.”

“I'm done with the bloody thing,” he said over his shoulder. “Just give me a cut. I’m the one that gave you the contract.”

As he rejoined them, Barth, Liam, and Remira shouldered heavy packs. Aradin swung a fourth onto his back. He gave Tali a nod.

“Die later, rather than sooner,” he said.

Tali returned the nod. “Travel safely, you four. Gods watch over you.”

With that, the adventurers walked into the woods and quickly vanished from sight. Tali stayed until she couldn't hear them crunching and rustling through the underbrush anymore, though she wasn't sure why she waited. When birdsong finally drowned out the last echoes of their passage, Tali shook herself and returned to her own party.

Chapter Text

Blue light made ghoulish shadows dance on the ground and trees, and roots and branches reached hungrily across the path, threatening to trip and entangle passersby. Ahead, jutting from the calm, black river, rose the rocky foundations of an immense tower. Tali bent her neck to try to see the top, which was only visible thanks to a halo of faint lantern light.

Tali risked dismissing her fire, and the darkness pressed in around her party. The pixie’s blessing kept the death-chill at bay, but Tali could not put herself at ease; it seemed foolish to trust the power of a fickle fey creature against the shadow curse.

As if he read her mind-–and he might have, considering their continued inability to rid themselves of the tadpoles-–Gale said, “Thank our lucky stars for that pixie. It's nice to have the option of a stealth approach that doesn’t entail succumbing to the curse.”

Tali nodded. Jaheira of the Harpers had urged her to pose as a loyal True Soul in order to get close to Ketheric and learn more about his apparent invincibility, but Tali hated the idea. She didn't like lying, and she wasn't any good at it in the first place. She would rather carve through these cultists just as she'd carved through the goblins.

She didn't have nearly as many people, though, and she suspected the denizens of Moonrise to prove a far greater threat than goblins. Only the infected would be able to escape safely if they were discovered, so Halsin and the Harpers had elected to remain at Last Light Inn and await Tali's return. They expected information. Tali was more concerned about the prisoners.

Soon after arriving in the shadow-cursed lands, she'd found a group of tiefling refugees slaughtered on the road, and at Last Light she'd learned of survivors whom the cult had carried off. A group of Ironhand gnomes were supposedly being held captive as well, in addition to Duke Ravengard, Wyll’s father.

Tali still almost couldn't believe he was a duke's son. The revelation has been almost as shocking as that of his devilish pact. She felt guilty for leaving him at the inn while she went to rescue his own flesh and blood, but she had to stay alert out here, and having a devil at her back–even a supposedly good one–would be a constant distraction. Despite his deeds as the Blade of Frontiers, she didn’t know what to make of him anymore.

She’d left Shadowheart behind, as well. The infiltration group needed to stay small, and Tali had decided the cleric’s skills would probably see the best use among the Harpers and refugees. She might prove especially invaluable to them, considering that the inn’s other cleric was preoccupied with maintaining a protective shield.

And so, with some reluctance, Tali had set out with a frustratingly small squad made up of only herself, Gale, Lae’zel, and their newest companion, Karlach. Karlach had turned out to be no devil at all, and sparing her was what had earned Wyll his infernal transformation in the first place. Her warm glow provided some measure of comfort in the darkness, and she’d be easy to find if they got separated.

Tali raised her eyes to the path ahead. A bridge with white moon lanterns at both ends spanned the water between the craggy coast and the jutting stone foundations of Moonrise. Tali didn’t dare lead her group into the light; they couldn’t let the cultists know there were strangers anywhere near their walls. She jerked her head to the left.

“Let's go around,” she said. “We need a place to cross the moat unseen.”

In the darkness, the going was slow and the path treacherous. Larger cracks in the ground made themselves known by a sickly greenish glow, but smaller ones were an invisible tripping hazard. The plant life itself seemed malicious, too, with tumorous growths that shook and expanded, branches like talons blocking out the starless sky, and winding roots eager to ensnare passersby.

At a cry of alarm from Gale, Tali turned, halberd readied. Even her tiefling eyes could barely pierce the gloom, but she saw enough to make out the shape of the wizard struggling to extricate his robe from a thorny gray bush.

Before Tali reached his side, Karlach ran up to him and brought her battleaxe down on the bush. It withdrew with a strained creaking.

“Another blight,” Gale muttered, brushing himself off.

“Tsk'va,” Lae’zel said. “Enemies in every branch and bole.”

Tali glanced around, suspicious, but the rest of the nearby plants seemed benign–or at least, as benign as anything in the shadow-cursed lands could be. It was impossible to tell the blights apart from the rest, so she kept her weapon ready.

“I might be relieved when we reach Moonrise,” Karlach said. She always spoke loudly, and in the shadow-cursed lands her echoing voice made Tali cringe. “I bet the dungeons are warmer than this.”

“You're cold?” Gale said.

“Not as cold as you three, I bet,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But I wouldn't say no to a blanket and a hot meal.”

“Unfortunately, we're not likely to find either in Moonrise Towers,” Tali said. “The sooner we find the prisoners, the sooner we can get back to the inn.”

As they walked on, she watched every root and shadow suspiciously, trying not to think of other travelers who might have come this way. Aradin had said his band would find their own way to Baldur’s Gate, but the road led straight through the shadows. If there was an alternate route, surely the refugees would have taken it instead of braving the curse. The mercenaries had taken their journey confidently, and Tali would rather not worry about them, but she worried nonetheless. A part of her hoped to see them again, but not too soon; she was still practicing what she would say. What she had to say.

She led her three companions between the trees to the edge of the land, where the stone jutted out over the river. Here the gap between the mainland and the tower's foundations was the narrowest Tali had seen. She guessed she could jump it, and Karlach definitely could. Gale would probably have to teleport. Tali turned to Lae’zel.

“Can you get across with your psionics?”

The githyanki gave a sharp nod.

“Good. You'll lead the way. Scout the lower levels and find the dungeon.”

“I'll check on you with a sending in ten minutes,” Gale said. “But first!” He slung his pack around in front of him and reached in. Glass rattled, and he produced a vial. “Here. Drink this.”

Lae’zel took it with a wary look. She uncorked the vial, gave it a sniff, frowned, and drank it. As soon as the glass ran dry, she vanished entirely from sight.

“Good,” she hissed, her voice emanating from empty air. Soft footfalls tapped away, and Lae’zel was gone.

Tali, Karlach, and Gale slunk deeper into the cover of the shadow-cursed woods. The next few minutes wore on in agonizing silence while Gale counted them down. Tali bounced on the balls of her feet and rubbed her face to keep warm, and Karlach’s tail lashed restlessly.

At long last, Gale fished in his component pouch and raised a copper wire to his lips.

“Lae’zel,” he said across the wire. His words reverberated with subtle magic. “What is your location? Have you found the captives? Enemy numbers? You have twenty-five words. Reply at your convenience, and if it is safe.”

After a long pause, he nodded. Tali looked at him expectantly.

“She’s in the dungeon,” he said. “She found a good spot to hide for the time being. She sounded awfully confident, but I’m not sure how long we have until someone stumbles across her. Or perhaps into her, if the invisibility potion is still active.”

“Then we’d best move in quickly. Did she tell you how to get in?”

“Conveniently enough, a set of exterior double-doors lead to the dungeon. Apparently it was quite easy to slip in.” Gale tucked his spell components away. “The exterior doors are guarded, and the dungeon is patrolled by cultists and scrying eyes.”

“Hate those things,” Karlach murmured. “They’re creepy. And they’re hard to break.”

“We have to target them first,” Tali said. She grimaced in disgust as she added, “We’ll probably have to use the tadpoles to get inside without starting a fight.”

“We should,” Gale said. “A fight may be inevitable, but we can’t take hostile action until we’re absolutely ready–no pun intended. If the guards outside the prison are alerted, we could find ourselves outnumbered in the blink of a floating purple eye. Not to mention what might become of the would-be escapees.”

Tali sighed. She wished they had an army of Harpers so they could simply storm the fortress. Invincible or not, surely Ketheric wouldn’t be much to contend with if she dealt with his followers. But for now their only goal was to rescue the captives. She’d focus on that.

She adjusted her helmet, rolled her neck, and stretched her legs. “I suppose it’s our turn to cross.”

Karlach danced from one foot to the other. “Hells yes! Let’s get this jailbreak started!”

~

The prison below Moonrise was warmer than the outside, but not by much; its torches wavered and cast an unsteady glow on the walls. The people, on the other hand, moved with a unified precision and purpose. As Tali passed, they nodded to her, some in polite acknowledgement and some in deference.

She’d used the tadpole to get past the guards outside. She still felt slimy inside, but at least now everyone in the dungeon seemed to assume she and her companions were meant to be here.

They passed through a low rectangular room, down a short set of stairs, and into a cavernous chamber. In its center stood a tower whose upper floor gaped open, offering a vantage on the rest of the room. Buttresses extended from it to the outer walls of the room to offer structural support-–and oversight, Tali assumed, since they were wide enough to be walkways. Around the tower, the floor dropped away and plunged into unknown depths. Warm air wafted up from below, and with it came a faint odor which was unpleasant but otherwise difficult to place. A single row of large, iron-barred cells stood along the wall to Tali’s right, following the curve of the cave. The lack of proper walls left their unwilling inhabitants bare to the eyes of the guards. When Tali saw figures behind the bars, she had to restrain herself from running to them at once.

“Well-guarded,” Gale whispered. “Do you see that spire? They probably have a scrying eye in there, where it can survey the entire prison at once.”

Tali glanced at it. “One of us has to find a way up there. If we don’t eliminate the watchers, the alarm will sound as soon as we make our move.”

“I can do that,” Karlach said. Her whisper was too loud and harsh for Tali’s liking, and she looked around to see if they’d roused suspicion. Fortunately, though guards glanced at them as they passed, they didn’t seem to care what they did. So far.

Tali strode to the nearest cell with Gale and Karlach in tow. This one contained four tieflings, all of whom had familiar though haggard faces. The nearest two slowly turned to get a look at their visitors.

One, a man of average build, sat with his back to the bars. His eyes went wide, and he started to stand.

“Thank the gods,” he murmured. “Finally, a friendly-–”

Another, a woman, silenced him with a gesture. She glared at Tali out of the corner of her eye.

“I can hear the guards, you know,” she hissed. “After everything, you’re a True Soul.”

Tali glanced around furtively before answering. “No. I’m not. I’m posing. I’m here to get you out.”

The woman still looked suspicious, but she relaxed somewhat. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Then who sent you?”

“The other refugees. They made it to safety.”

“What about Rolan?”

Tali suppressed a sigh of exasperation when she remembered the last time she’d seen the young wizard. “Yes, he’s safe, too. He tried to come here to rescue you himself, but he had to turn back.”

The woman snorted. “Of course he did. All right, I believe you.” She stepped closer to the bars. “The gnomes–”

“Hey! Get away from there!”

Tali whipped around to see a man in the garb of an Absolute zealot stomping towards her. Her just fury urged her to brandish her halberd and greet him with impalement, but she clenched her teeth and restrained the inner fire as best she could.

“No talking to the prisoners,” the Absolutist said, scowling. “Z’rell’s orders.”

Z’rell. Tali made note of the name. A priority target.

“Then it’s a good thing I have Z’rell’s permission,” she said, trying to sound confident. The lie sounded shrill and forced to her own ears.

“And who are you?” the zealot demanded.

“I’m a True Soul.”

He scoffed, and a horrid wriggling churned Tali’s mind. “You and me, both,” the zealot said. “You don’t see me chatting up these heathens, do you?”

“They have information I can use,” Tali said. “Let me do my job.”

This time she drew on the power of the tadpole again, willing the guard to believe her. She touched his mind, glimpsing shallow memories and obsessive devotion, and she suppressed a shudder at the mental sensation.

“I see.” The zealot relaxed. “It must be important, then. Carry on.”

Tali waited until he was several paces away before turning back to the tieflings. “What were you saying?”

The tiefling woman watched the guard leave, then looked at Tali with renewed wariness. “How did you do that?”

“It’s quite the tale,” Tali said. “If you haven’t heard it yet, it can wait until you’re safe.”

“Right. Fine. I was going to tell you….” She lowered her voice even further. “I was going to tell you the gnomes two cells down have a plan. I hear them talking about it at night sometimes. Help them, and maybe you can help us.”

Tali nodded. “Have you seen any other prisoners?”

“Yes. There were some here before us. They took some of them away, but others”--she indicated the next cell over-–“organized their own disappearance yesterday.”

“Someone escaped? Who was it?”

A look of distaste twisted the woman’s expression. “Those mragreshem from the Grove. The ones who almost got us all killed by goblins.”

Tali groaned inwardly, but she couldn’t deny the hope that fluttered at the same time; they were-–or at least had recently been–-safe from the shadow curse.

“The mercenaries?” she said. “They were here?”

“Not for long. They found cracks in the floor, dug a hole, and dipped out.” The woman waved her hand. “Of course, they couldn’t be bothered to help a bunch of foulbloods on the way.”

“A hole. Perfect.” Tali tried to temper her eagerness. “They’ve already made our escape route.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” one of the other tieflings said. “When they opened it up, it reeked like a gnoll's asshole. There can't be anything good down there.”

“Plus, the guards didn't seem to care at all when they noticed it,” the woman added.

Tali’s hope turned to gut-wrenching worry. It was insensible, so she tried to stomp the feeling down.

“Could it be a sewer?” she suggested.

“A sewer,” the woman said flatly. “Connected to what?”

“The river.”

“We're below the level of the river.”

“Oh.” Tali's concern increased. “Then what is it?”

The woman threw her hands up. “Hells if I know. Look, talk to the gnomes and figure out the escape plan from there. We'll follow their lead.”

Tali nodded and stepped back from the bars. She looked behind her to see if anyone was watching the conversation. They seemed to have gone unobserved, save for the apathetic gaze of a scrying eye that hovered back near the entryway.

The group made their way down the row of cells. Tali peered into the next one. Sure enough, in the far corner gaped a hole in the floor. She took a deep breath, trying to detect the smell the tieflings had mentioned. All she found was the same odor that permeated the entire place.

In the third cell she found three svirfneblin. They murmured among themselves until one noticed the newcomers, nudged another, and pointed. The second gnome turned around. He had a scarred face and shrewd eyes.

“If you're the new guards, you're in the wrong place,” he said dryly, slinking closer to the bars. “Uniforms are back the way you came, on the left.”

“I'm no guard,” Tali said.

“Of course you're not.” He gave a short chuckle. “So why are you here?”

Tali frowned at him. He seemed awfully calm for a prisoner of the cult; there was more to this gnome than met the eye.

“Another svirfneblin told me to find you,” she replied, “a man by the name of Barcus Wroot. He said he was a friend of yours. If you're Wulbren, that is.”

“I am. Did Barcus send you with a pickaxe?”

“Erm… no. Should he have?”

“He hasn't seen these walls, so no.” Wulbren pointed behind him with a thumb. “Terrible stonework compromised by water damage.”

“Is that your escape plan? You're going to break through the wall?”

“That’s the idea, though the warden took our tools.” He shrugged. “Maybe we should take a cue from our old neighbors and start using our nails. Of course, they already had a hole to work with. We're not so lucky.” He wrapped a hand around the bars and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you can get us something to break through the wall, we can get ourselves and those tieflings out.”

“How?”

“There's running water somewhere beyond this wall. River access.”

“You're going to swim?”

“If we can't obtain a boat. It’s better than staying.”

“I suppose that's true.” Tali turned her eyes on the observation tower. “I'll get you those tools.”

“Hold on,” Karlach said. “We don't need to deal with the warden. Take this.” She opened her pack.

“Careful,” Gale hissed. He looked around the cavern and stood in front of Karlach to protect her from view.

“Relax,” Karlach said. She rolled her eyes and passed a hammer through the bars.

Wulbren accepted it with a sigh. “Crude, but it will do.” He stepped back. “Be ready. The guards won't like hearing the wall go down.”

“Right,” Tali said. “Give us a minute to get into position.”

Gale stayed near the gnomes’ cell, but the other two dispersed. Karlach stood near the drawbridge to the observation tower, eyeing its upper floor. Tali walked back to the tieflings to defend them while their wall waited for Wulbren’s work. Her gaze couldn't help but wander back to the empty cell in between and the pit in its corner.

“I'm also looking for a nobleman,” she whispered to the tieflings. “Was there anyone else with the mercenaries?”

“A noble?” the woman she'd talked to before whispered back. “No, just the same four fools who drank our booze.”

Tali sighed through her nose. “All right. That wall behind you is going to come down, and the gnomes will lead you out. Prepare yourselves to run. And maybe swim.”

The tieflings nodded and retreated to the back of their cell to watch the wall. Tali put her back to them.

A zealot-–not the man she'd talked to before, but instead an unfamiliar woman–-stopped next to Tali. She looked at her, then at the tieflings.

“Fraternizing?” she said in distaste. “They're not your people anymore, True Soul.”

“I know they’re not my people.” Tali smiled at the zealot as the divine fire built in the back of her mind. She tightened her grip on her halberd, eager to plunge it into her when the rubble started rolling.

“I don't recognize you.”

“I just got here.”

The zealot frowned and peered closely at Tali. She opened her mouth to speak.

CRACK.

Stone broke. A gnome cursed. The zealot looked down the row.

“What was-–”

She didn't get to finish the question. Tali swung the haft of the halberd into her neck, and she choked on her words. Tali spun the halberd back around, aiming for the gap in the zealots's armor at the underarm. The zealot turned, and the blow glanced off her pauldron.

“Traitor,” the zealot hissed. She readied her own halberd.

“I was never one of you in the first place.” Tali took a low stance, ready to withstand whatever the Absolutist would bring against her.

The cultist stepped forward and jabbed. Tali batted her weapon aside with the haft of her own.

With a growl of frustration, the zealot held her halberd aloft. A familiar radiance gleamed on its head, and she brought it down with a snarl of hatred.

Tali blocked again, eyes wide. A paladin. How is that possible? When it failed to find its target, the light vanished from the enemy’s weapon.

To her left, she heard the telltale screech of a scrying eye, but it ended with a bang and the clatter of its crystalline pieces scattering. She chanced a look upward.

Lae’zel stood above her, on one of the tower's buttresses. She loaded her hand crossbow with a smokepower bolt, then turned and took aim at a second eye. Another explosion followed.

“ALERT THE WARDEN!” the zealot in front of Tali yelled.

“I think she already knows!” another guard said, panicked.

A roar echoed in the cavern, not of an animal, but of a barbarian. Tali smiled to herself. Karlach must have already pushed into the tower.

Her smile vanished when, with a great rattling, the cell door behind her started to lower into the floor. All the cells were opening, she realized. The cultists meant to slaughter the prisoners if it meant none escaped.

“I’ll cover you!” she heard Gale call. He ducked into the gnomes’ cell. Tali was glad the prisoners would have a wizard at their back but disappointed that she wouldn’t.

The zealot in front of her backed away and held out her halberd to put distance between them. She circled around to Tali’s right. Tali watched out of the corner of her eye, unwilling to turn to face her for fear she’d find another enemy at her back. She stayed by the cell, determined that no Absolutist would get to the tieflings.

The zealot jabbed, testing her. Tali parried, and the weapons’ hafts clacked together harmlessly. She kept her motions small so as to conserve her energy.

Her inner fire demanded aggression, that she cleave the cultist before her and find another. Her vision threatened to narrow, but she blinked hard and tried to keep the rest of the room in her sights. She had to stay cool. Patient.

Her caution paid off. From her left charged another cultist, also wielding a halberd. Tali turned and extended the haft of her weapon, catching his ankle. He tumbled to the ground, his armor clanked loudly on the stone, and his weapon slid from his grasp. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

The female cultist took the opportunity to make another swipe at Tali, which she sidestepped. She risked stepping away from the tieflings’ cell to put the prone guard between herself and her foe.

The zealot still on her feet took a few more steps back, eyeing her cautiously. Tali took advantage of the opening and struck the downed one hard in his side. The blow pushed him over, and he rolled onto his back to face her.

Tali’s rage-fire flared, eager for blood. She unleashed it and sent it running up the length of her halberd. White-gold light gleamed on its blade, leaving a blinding streak in the air as she swung for the cultist’s neck.

Her aim was true. The halberd sunk into his throat with a spurt of fresh, hot blood and sparks of heavenly fire. With her strength and its weight, she expected the blade to go all the way through his neck and send his head rolling.

Light burst around the zealot, and Tali’s halberd rebounded. Despite his grievous wound, the zealot sucked in another breath and tried to push himself upright.

Tali marveled. A death ward. More divine magic.

He clutched his split, burnt neck. Blood poured from his mouth as he said, “You… false paladin….”

He dares call me false? Tali thought, appalled. She wasn’t sure how these Absolutists had gained divine magic, but she would not tolerate them putting their vile deity on a higher level than the god of justice.

She brought her halberd down again. Again radiance flared. The zealot screamed as his flesh burned, but only for an instant before Tali finished what she’d started. His head fell from his shoulders, and his body collapsed. The stench of burning skin and hair mixed with the already pungent air and made for a sickening combination.

Tali raised her eyes to the first zealot who’d engaged her. The zealot was staring at her newly dead comrade, indignation and shock warring on her face. Tali stepped back towards the cell bars and leveled her weapon.

Before the two could re-engage, a deafening screech filled the air. Tali recoiled at the sound and looked towards the observation tower.

On its upper floor she saw Karlach pinned between a gaping window and a formidable-looking woman in the garb of an Absolutist. The warden. Well out of reach of Karlach’s axe, a purple eye hovered in the air, screaming loudly enough to wake the lands as far as Last Light Inn.

Tali’s heart sank, but she set her jaw. The operation had just accelerated.

The zealot across from her seemed to take courage from the alarm-shrieks. She stepped into a confident diagonal swing. Instead of blocking it, Tali swung in the same direction, hooking the blade of her halberd over the haft of the zealot’s and pushing it to the ground. She closed the distance between them. In such close quarters, neither of their polearms would be useful.

While the zealot tried to regain her stance and put more distance between them, Tali freed her left hand, seized her foe by the front of her tabard, and headbutted her in the forehead. One of her ram-like horns crunched into the cultist’s temple.

The zealot stumbled back. Tali brought the butt of her halberd upside the zealot’s head, and the impact threw her backwards. Like the now-headless man before her, she hit the ground, armor rattling. Tali didn’t dare leave her charges, not with reinforcements on their way any second, so she didn’t approach to finish the job. She settled for slicing the poorly protected spot behind the zealot’s knee.

The zealot screamed as blood started pooling around her leg. Tali backed off, confident that she’d neutralized the immediate threat.

The screech from the top of the tower ended with a crash and a clatter, and glassy shards flew out of the window. The warden fell after them and landed unmoving among the broken crystal. Karlach stood above, beaming at her handiwork.

Tali raised her halberd in a salute. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, soldier,” Karlach shouted back across the cavern. “A little scratch or two. Nothing your mama couldn’t kiss better. You?”

“Just wonderful.” Tali meant it. Her heart beat an energetic battle-rhythm, and she’d so far managed to avoid injury. The best part was the cultists lying at her feet; in the very heart of the Absolute cult’s lair, she was taking the fight to some of the best-armed soldiers she’d seen. The fire danced in her mind gleefully.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound came from the back of the tieflings’ cell. Tali turned to find the prisoners eagerly and apprehensively watching the wall, the stones of which shook with each tap. It seemed the gnomes had reached them and were digging through from the other side.

“Retaliation,” hissed a voice from above. Tali raised her eyes to see Lae’zel crouched on a stone walkway above the cell.

“How are you doing?” Tali asked.

“I am well. These are hardly worthy foes.”

As if to prove her point, she loaded her hand crossbow, took aim, and put a bolt through the zealot Tali had crippled. The woman jerked, then lay still.

Lae’zel raised her crossbow to her shoulder. “But then, I have seen youths slay a grown neogi. In sufficient numbers, a seemingly inferior foe can become a menace.”

Tali nodded. “And this entire fortress probably knows we’re here.”

“I have a strategy.”

“I’ll hear it.”

Lae’zel pointed back the way they’d come, towards the one known entrance and exit from the prison. “I will grease the stairs when they arrive. While they are slowed, you and Karlach will pin them down and make easy prey of them.”

“They’ll be grouped up for more of those smokepowder shots, too,” Tali added.

“I’m running low.” Lae’zel grimaced. “I must acquire more soon.”

“If they’re what ensures the prisoners’ escape, use as many as you need to.”

Lae’zel nodded her understanding and leaped to another buttress, where she loaded her hand crossbow and set it aside in favor of a bottle grenade.

Karlach approached Tali, rolling her shoulders. The flames venting from her body started to subside. “Pretty easy jailbreak, yeah?”

“So far. Did you hear Lae’zel’s plan?”

“Yeah. We get to charge.” She bared a toothy grin. “Let’s see these cultists get past a wall of tiefling!”

Karlach’s cheerfulness was contagious, and Tali couldn’t help a small smile of her own.

Booted footsteps echoed from the entrance. Doors slammed and creaked, and a gruff voice shouted orders.

Tali stood lightly on her feet, ready to run into the fray as soon as Lae’zel slicked the stairs. The divine fire swirled in her mind, and her muscles tensed, pulling her taut as a bowstring.

Her heart wasn’t as eager, though. Combat was comfortable for her, true, but this battle was less about smiting evil than it was about saving lives. She promised herself she’d stay alert. She even promised herself she’d retreat when the work was done.

Five cultists entered the chamber. Most of them looked like the zealots Tali had slain a moment before, except for the one leading the group. He was less heavily armored, his helmet more decorated. His bearing disgusted Tali; he looked like a priest.

While the others sped ahead around him, the “priest” stood at the top of the stairs and pointed. “Intruders!”

As soon as the word left his mouth, a grenade sailed through the air from Lae’zel’s position. It shattered at his feet, and grease spread across and down the stairs. Two of the cultists slipped and fell. The others slowed and kept cautious eyes on their newly treacherous footing.

Tali and Karlach charged. Karlach quickly overtook her ally and, bellowing a battlecry, brought her battleaxe down on the nearest Absolutist.

Zealots began gathering around her. Tali met one with the blade of her halberd, thrusting him back into the grease. A bolt went through the armor of another and wounded her arm. The leader’s hands moved as he brought the Weave to bear, and he opened his mouth to utter words of power.

“Lae’zel!” Tali yelled. “Silence him!”

A bolt flew past her head and sunk into the leader’s chest, but it did not deter him. He completed his spell and thrust his hands in Tali’s direction.

Light flashed, and Tali looked behind her to see a glowing, armored figure emerge from the air. She recognized the spell as a guardian of faith; clerics of Tyr used it frequently. How had an Absolutist priest gained similar power?

Regardless of how it had come to be, Tali knew better than to stay anywhere near it. She stepped to the side, and it swung its radiant sword at her. It clipped her shoulder, and without piercing her armor it burned the flesh below. Unlike the heat of earthly fire, Tali’s tiefling blood could not protect her from the heat of divine radiance. She hissed at the pain, but she’d escaped its reach intact.

While Karlach hacked at the cultists around her, mingling their blood with the grease at their feet, Tali made sure none got past. Whenever one tried to push through, she thrusted with the point of her halberd. Clumsy on the slick stairs, the cultists had the choice of falling or being impaled. One met both fates.

Karlach’s axe swung, trailing red. Crossbow bolts rained from above. Tali held the enemy back, leaving them vulnerable for her allies. A bolt pierced the leader’s chest, and he fell and rolled into the feet of one of his men, who stumbled over his dead commander. In the zealot’s moment of alarm, Karlach cut him down.

Tali took a step back and took one hand off the haft of her weapon. “I hope this doesn't hurt, Karlach. Fiat lux.” Familiar blue fire leaped to life in her hands.

Karlach glanced over and grinned. “Won’t hurt at all.”

Tali hurled the produced flame. The moment it touched the grease, roaring fire spread from wall to wall and engulfed the cultists. Heedless of the conflagration, Karlach waded into it to take advantage of the enemies’ panic. While they yelled and tried to escape the flames, she sank her battleaxe into their backs.

One got out of her reach and ran from the stairs, batting at himself desperately. The flaming grease on his armor made the steel itself look like it was burning. Tali stood in his path.

He almost ran into her, but turned aside at the last moment and tried to flee past her. She held out her halberd at waist height, and he slammed into it and doubled over. Spinning the weapon around, she brought the blade down on the back of his neck and claimed another head.

The screams died down long before the fire. Tali and Karlach stood back, sweaty from the heat and exertion.

“Nice work,” Karlach remarked. “Think we’ve bought them enough time?”

“Hopefully,” Tali said. “I doubt that’s the last group the Absolutists will send to investigate the dungeon. Fall back to the escape route.”

The two trotted back to the row of cells and found the tieflings’ cell empty with a hole gaping in its back wall. Lae’zel dropped from above to join them, and together they passed through the broken wall and into a roughly carved passage on the other side. The air was still and almost unbearably calm now that the fight was over, and Tali could hear gently running water. She led her companions in the direction of the sound.

The passage opened up around a small dock with a single rowboat. Water lapped against the stone, and further out, beyond the shadow of Moonstone’s foundations, rippled the river proper. Around the dock stood the three gnomes, the four tieflings, and Gale, all safe and unharmed. Gale looked at the approaching trio and smiled.

“That sounded… exciting,” he said. “I practically had to restrain Cal and Lia here from joining.” He nodded towards two of the tieflings.

“What are you all waiting for?” Tali said, scowling at the group. “You have your boat. Get out.”

“We were waiting for you,” Gale said. “After all, there’s just the one boat. I didn’t fancy the idea of leaving you three to your own devices.”

“The prisoners come first. You should have left as soon as you could.” Tali sighed. “At least the Absolutists didn’t chase you back here. Let’s get everyone to safety before more come.”

The tieflings got into the boat and grabbed oars. The gnomes piled in alongside them. Karlach hopped in next, and the boat rocked and threatened to dump one of the svirfneblin in the water. Once Karlach found her footing and apologized to the disgruntled gnome, she reached out to help Lae’zel and Gale in. She reached out to Tali.

Tali did not take her hand. “I’m staying.”

“What?”

Tali glanced back the way they’d come. “There are a few prisoners still unaccounted for. If I can, I’ll find them, and I’ll follow as I’m able.”

“Alone?” Lae’zel said. “Tchk. We have our victory. Do not waste your time on someone you might never find.”

Gale started to step back onto the dock. “If you’re staying, you’ll not be alone.”

“No,” Tali said firmly. “Like Lae’zel said, we’ve succeeded. You get everyone back to the inn. If that hole leads somewhere deadly, I’ll be the only one lost.”

“Do not risk it,” Lae’zel said.

“I must.”

“Why? You owe those mercenaries nothing-–or less.”

Tali shook her head. The githyanki was too pragmatic, so she would never understand the debt weighing on Tali’s heart. Worry had plagued her since shortly after the tiefling party, a worry born of guilt. She just couldn’t stop being wrong about people, and for days now she’d knowingly traveled with a devil and a Sharran. It was the very pinnacle of hypocrisy that she had treated the mercenaries, particularly their leader, so unfairly. Cruelly, even. She winced when she remembered Aradin dazed at her feet, her sword hanging over him. She’d been ready to kill him based on an assumption. She owed it–-if not to the mercenaries, then to her own heart and oath-–to make up for her injustice.

It was too much and too shameful to explain. “On the chance they’re still alive,” she said instead, “they need to be rescued, too. On that chance I’m following them.” She turned to Gale. “You can help me by giving me a scroll of feather fall. I don’t know how deep that hole goes or where it might lead.”

Gale reluctantly sat down in the boat and extracted a scroll from his pack. He held it out, and Tali moved to take it. Before she could, he pulled it back out of her reach.

“If you die, we might not be able to recover everything,” he said warningly, “even if Withers can resurrect you.” He let her take the scroll.

Tali grimaced as she pocketed it. “I’d rather not let that creature play with my soul in the first place. I’ll plan on not dying.”

“If you are stranded with no way out, fall on your blade,” Lae’zel said. “Do not wait to succumb to deprivation. The sooner you perish, the sooner that thing can bring you back. We must not waste time.”

The thought of killing herself to escape made Tali shudder, but she nodded, to avoid arguing if nothing else.

Karlach looked at her and bit her lip, anxious. “I understand what you’re doing, Tali. After we get these people to a safe landing, I’ll bring the boat back and wait for you.”

“Fine.” Tali stepped away from the dock. “But wait no longer than morning. Now go. I’ll see you soon.”

Her companions helped the tieflings push off. Oars cut through black water, and the rowboat crept out into the Chionthar. Tali watched them go for a moment to make sure the boat wasn’t set upon by Absolutists from above. Satisfied that they were safe for now, she steeled herself and descended back into the dungeon.

Chapter Text

The hole in the floor gaped wide. The stone around it was jagged and thin, and Tali felt a jolt of alarm when she realized how much of the floor might be hollow. She found herself stepping more carefully as she neared the hole.

The mysterious scent pervading the dungeon became stronger the closer she got to the pit, both sweet and foul, something between manure and rotting meat. Had Tali been less accustomed to both, it might have made her sick.

The hole seemed very deep, and she looked around to try and figure out how the mercenaries got down. She saw no rope; they must have taken it with them to prevent their captors from following them.

Tali pulled the scroll of feather fall out of her pocket, unfurled it, and read the words aloud. As soon as they left her lips, the script on the scroll glowed with arcane energy and began to burn. In an instant, the scroll had disintegrated, and she felt lighter, as though gravity had less power over her.

Taking one final breath of fresh air, Tali plunged into the hole.

Magic buoyed her up and slowed her fall, giving her plenty of time to acclimate to the oily humidity and increasing stench. At first, darkness surrounded her, but she soon noticed a ruddy glow emanating from beneath.

The ground appeared, but it was not ground. It was a heap of corpses.

If she could, Tali would have stopped her fall. Instead she had to wait and watch as she gently descended to join the dead. Her boots sank into the pile. Soft, swollen flesh burst underfoot, and the reek of death became almost unbearable.

Tali gagged and covered her mouth with her hand. Blood she could more than handle. The smells of piss and feces when a dead creature’s bowels loosened were unpleasant, but they’d never been too much. This, though….

She looked around. Bodies in all directions, stewing in a lake of mixed and half-congealed blood. All were humanoid, but most of them barely looked like it; decay had distorted them, turning them into a mass of hideous flesh with a thousand gaping mouths. It made her worst memories seem like rosy gardens.

The priests reared up in her mind, gawking at her lifelessly. Tali held her arm out, as if she could hold the memory away. Of course she couldn’t. That day, a day of fewer bodies and fresher blood, danced across her mind’s eye. Gods, they had looked so afraid. Their mouths had yawned open, too, as though they’d died screaming.

Fall on your blade. Coming down here was a mistake.

But she had committed to this course of action. She pulled a handkerchief from her pack-–she didn’t remember the last time it had been white–-and held it over her nose and mouth. She closed her eyes and willed her body to forget its disgust.

By shutting out the bodies around her, she only isolated herself with the long dead. Cleric Lisha, blood matting her sideburns, eyes glassy. Sir Garth, who’d died just the same in spite of his sword and breastplate. The horsemaster. The gardener. The cook. The high priest himself. Walls and weapons and armor and faith and prayers and gods hadn’t protected them.

Tali took a deep breath, but instead of steadying her, it made her gag again. She swayed on her feet. You have a job to do, she reminded herself. She had to move. Had to stop seeing them. She was here for the living.

Oh gods, what if they’re dead? What am I here for?

Tali shoved the thought to the back of her mind and forced herself to take a step. Her foot went through a tangle of arms, and bones crunched. Bile rose in the back of her throat. How long ago had the mercenaries come down here? Did the tiefling woman say yesterday?

To survive a day down here… gods…. She thought of poor Liam, who had been tortured by the goblins. If he was still alive down here, she doubted his mind was intact.

She picked her way over stinking heaps and waded through viscera. She tried to keep her eyes up, tried to ignore snapping bones and sloughing skin and open bellies, but the walls themselves seemed to be made of flesh, too. There was no natural stone to be seen, and the skin-like walls swallowed up the echoes Tali would have expected to hear in a room this large. A strange pink glow filled the room, but Tali could not find the source.

She stopped and looked around. She knew she couldn’t hold still for long, or her legs might refuse to move again. But she had to orient herself. She had to know where to look.

One of the membranous walls stood out: it looked as though it had been cut through, and open space gaped on the other side. Tali waded towards it. As she approached, she realized that the wall had multiple wounds; something had slashed it open, but it had scabs, signs of healing, and fresher cuts, as though the hole was closing itself and being repeatedly reopened.

Tali peered into the gap. On the other side was a small pocket of natural stone, less bloody than the surrounding room but just as aromatic. The air was thick, almost too dense to breathe, and Tali lowered the handkerchief just to feel less smothered.

Four humanoids huddled together in the nook. At first Tali thought she’d found more corpses, but one of them shifted its legs.

“Thank the gods,” she breathed.

Three of four heads turned towards her. Their faces were gaunt, their hair matted, their eyes afraid, but they were familiar. Her heart soared.

“Ain’t that a beautiful sight,” one said. His voice was hoarse but distinctive: Aradin.

“I’m here to get you out,” Tali said. She stepped into the pocket of stone. “Are any of you hurt?”

“Nah. We got down safe enough.” As Aradin got to his feet, the blood encrusted on his clothes cracked and flaked.

“Why the Hells would you come down here in the first place?” Tali said.

“Didn’t have much choice. It was this or the crazy bastards upstairs. ‘Sides, we did find a way through.”

Tali scanned the group again. “But you don’t have the tools to use it. Is that it?”

“In a way. There’s things down here. They eat the… the bodies.” He gestured past Tali. “They might not mind some sport, though, and we only got one old knife between us. So we steered clear.”

“Have you found anything else?”

“Nothing good and nothing useful. High time you got us out, yeah?”

Tali nodded. “Show me that exit you found. I’ll clear the way.”

She caught a doubtful look that passed between Barth and Remira. She looked past them, at the one figure who had yet to move.

“How’s Liam?” she asked.

“Alive,” Aradin said gruffly. “Barth, get him up. Let’s move.”

Barth gently pulled Liam to his feet and steered him with a hand around his shoulders. Remira walked behind them, keeping a suspicious eye on the rest of the room. With their stiff, tired movements and their blood-slicked skin, the adventurers looked like fresh ghouls.

Tali moved aside to make room for them to pass through the membranous wall. As they re-entered the great red cavern, she noticed the mercenaries doing exactly what she had done and keeping their eyes off the floor. Aradin took the lead, and Tali stayed one step behind him, halberd at the ready.

The group waded through the worst of the pool and came out the other side soaked, but here the ground was actually ground, rather than dead meat. Not that Tali could tell at first; the same membrane that stretched across the walls also covered the stone below, turning it pink and squishy.

The ground rose in slopes and crags. As they climbed, stone peeked through its fleshy covering here and there, simple yet welcome reminders of a world outside this aberrant nightmare. Ahead the wall opened up, and the path became a dank passage.

“That’s it,” Aradin said, nodding towards the tunnel.

“I see it.” Tali held out an arm to signal the mercenaries to stay behind her. “I’ll slay the beasts.”

She stepped forward and passed into the tunnel. The hot, reeking air and close pink walls gave the impression of an immense creature's gullet, and Tali entertained the idea that she might indeed have fallen into some monster’s digestive tract. Was this the Absolute itself, a devourer of gargantuan proportions? She’d have to find out later, when she had more enlightened minds to help her understand this horror.

She crept to the end of the passageway, where it opened out into a stony chamber. This one, like the main room, was full of corpses, but thankfully not enough to make a rotting lake. These were in pieces and mostly bones, some picked clean and some half-eaten. Tali looked around for whatever had scavenged them.

Before long she spotted it: bipedal and vulture-like, but as big as a grizzly bear. It had beady eyes, a curved beak, and forelimbs that ended in serrated hooks.

Tali took a step back, cursing to herself. She’d encountered these creatures once briefly, when she was in the Underdark. Hook horrors. With a group of armed and armored people, one would be no threat, but Tali was alone, and she heard more than one set of footsteps. She glanced over her shoulder.

The mercenaries had stayed well away, as she’d wanted them to do, with one irksome exception. Aradin stood at the other end of the passage, watching her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get back!”

“I don’t feel like following your orders today,” he murmured. “If you get eaten, me and my boys are making a run for it.”

“That’s a terrible idea. And I’m not going to get eaten.”

“If you do, I don’t want to waste the opportunity.”

Tali scowled. “Fine. But you’re unarmed and unarmored. If you get eaten first, just remember that you brought it on yourself.”

He shrugged.

Shaking her head, Tali returned her attention to the room before her. She spotted a second hook horror dragging half a dwarf across the floor. It made a throaty chortling noise and ripped off an arm.

Tali crouched. Her chainmail sounded like chimes to her, and she cringed at the noise. If she could maim one before they noticed her, she had a better chance of defeating the horrors, but stealth was not among her strengths.

Aradin appeared right next to her.

“Be patient!” she said, alarmed.

He shushed her. From his boot he drew a chipped and rusted dagger, probably a scavenged find. He put a hand against the wall, looked at the creatures, and held up three fingers.

Tali cursed again. Three hook horrors would be enough of a challenge, but she also had to keep an underprepared man alive. She sighed through her nose, then regretted it when her nostrils filled with the rotting odor. She suppressed a cough.

Aradin gave a series of hand signals, and Tali watched closely but couldn’t decipher them. He looked at her with a thumbs-up, checking to see if she understood. She shook her head. He scowled in frustration and pointed to the right.

That one was simple enough for her to get. She emerged from the passage and started along the wall. Aradin went left, moving quickly and much more quietly than she could. As she watched, he darted from the shadows and made for the nearest hook horror.

Tali leaped forward, halberd at the ready. Before the horrors even noticed her, one gave a shrill shriek of pain and stumbled sideways. A wound poured fresh blood down the back of its leg, and Aradin’s dagger dripped with the same. Tali rushed to close.

“Face me!” she shouted as she drove her halberd into the wounded horror’s shoulder. She hoped–-loud, shiny, and aggressive as she was–-that she could keep their attention off her vulnerable ally.

The wounded one pulled itself off her halberd and clawed at her with its good arm. She stepped out of its reach, only to nearly fall flat when the ground beneath her quaked. She whipped around to find herself face to face with a second hook horror.

It raised both its claws and brought them down. Tali held up her weapon and caught the claws on the haft. The creature pressed down on her with its bulk, and she pushed back, trying to shove it off her.

A chittering warned her of the wounded one right behind her. She sidestepped, and the horror pressing down on her slid aside. Its beak snapped after her but found only air. The wounded one scraped the floor where she’d been an instant ago, and where the hooks struck, the ground itself oozed blood-–or something like it. Tali spared the spot a look of disgust.

Both horrors closed in. She muttered a prayer under her breath, and a golden shield enveloped her body. It was a good thing her fight with the cultists hadn’t been too magically demanding.

“POINTS!”

The call drew her attention away from her enemies. To her dismay, the third horror had closed in as well, but it had picked Aradin as its prey. He dodged just out of its reach.

Tali swung the halberd in an attempt to push her two back, but as soon as it had passed them by, they surged towards her again. She jabbed one with the butt and one with the point. They didn’t so much as slow down. Claws came with merciless speed, scraping her armor and glancing off her weapon.

She looked back at Aradin. He was near the wall and running out of space. The third beast bore down on him.

Tali turned away from the creatures attacking her. It was reckless, but she was out of time. She took a step towards Aradin, and as she did, she brandished her weapon and called, “Inveniam viam!”

With the words, a gray mist wrapped around Tali. For an instant the world turned gray and indistinct, and it moved around her at blinding speed. When her surroundings rematerialized, Aradin was on one side and his pursuer on the other. She had only an instant to find her stance.

SLAM.

The creature met the end of her halberd with enough force to drive her back and jeopardize her footing. She set the butt of the halberd against the ground, tightened her grip, and shoved the point deeper into the monster. It flailed its arms and screamed.

“Go!” Tali yelled.

Aradin scampered out from behind her, and just in time; one of the horrors Tali had abandoned leaped through the air and landed right beside her. Her legs shook and threatened to buckle, but she grit her teeth and held her ground.

But she couldn’t hold it for long. The newcomer swung its hooks, and she let go of her halberd in order to duck out of the way.

She backed up and surveyed the room. The creature that had run onto her weapon struggled to dislodge it from its flesh, and the one with the maimed leg limped towards her. The one that just attacked pawed the ground, preparing to pounce again.

Maybe using me as a distraction to run was a good idea, after all, she thought grimly. She drew her sidearm, a lightweight arming sword.

A human skull sailed through the air and caught the crouching hook horror in the back of the head. It spun about with an indignant squawk. Tali followed its hungry gaze, and her heart sank.

Barth had entered the fray. He had an armful of bones and was readying another to throw.

“No!” Tali shouted. “Get out of the way!”

Barth glanced at her but threw a femur anyway. It missed its target, but the horror’s attention was already on him. It stomped and lowered its head.

Tali held up a hand and focused on all three hook horrors. She channeled her oath-born magic into a single word: “FALL!”

The inner fire sputtered, and the creatures obeyed. They flopped to the ground in near-perfect unison.

Aradin wasted no time. He reappeared from wherever he’d run, sprinted to the impaled horror, stood astride its beak, and plunged his dagger into its beady eye. It screeched and writhed, and he brought a knee down to hold it still. He pushed the blade deeper and deeper until it stopped moving.

By the time he stood, the horror next to him had shaken off the spell. It picked up where it had left off and pounced.

Barth’s eyes widened, and he tried to run away. He was too slow by only an instant, and the horror knocked him to the ground. It raised a hook.

Tali charged, but Aradin got there first. He drew his dagger across its legs, crippling it like he had the first. Tali swept her arming sword across one of its arms and left a deep gash.

The hook horror let out an avian screech and whipped around, swinging its hooks in a wide arc. Tali stepped into the attack to put herself between the creature and Aradin, and the claws raked the front of her armor. One caught in the rings of her chainmail, and she lurched when the creature tried to pull away.

She took advantage of its stuck claw. Her sword flashed in the unnatural red light as she brought it down on the horror’s arm–-once, twice, thrice. The blade made up for its small size with sharpness, and it hacked through hide, sinew, and bone. The arm went slack.

The hook horror staggered backwards, wailing in agony, its right arm a stump. Tali grabbed the claw still lodged in her armor and yanked it free.

“Barth,” she called. “Here’s something heavier.”

She tossed the severed arm to him as he stood up. He stared at it, then back at her.

“You’re mad!” he said.

If he didn’t want a serrated hook, that was his loss. Tali returned her attention to the injured horror.

It had slunk back, trailing blood from its injured leg and missing arm. It was just an animal, and with such grievous injuries, it would retreat and soon die. But it was also hungry, and Tali knew that if it saw an opportunity to drag someone off, it would still try.

She stepped forward. It batted at her with its good arm, trying to keep her away, but she stayed on its right side where it was vulnerable. Following Aradin’s example, she raised her blade and drove it through the hook horror’s eye. It went through one orbital socket and out the other, dripping with blood and brain matter.

The beast slumped, and its weight almost yanked Tali’s sword from her hand. With a grunt of effort, she pulled it free.

The thick, balmy air and the exertion of the fight had drenched her in sweat. She could taste its salt on her lips, feel it running in rivers down her back and legs. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the fire in her mind danced to the rhythm. This was her calling, and answering it filled her with an exultant rush.

Another scream sounded. This one was human.

“Liam!” Remira yelled.

Tali turned. The last hook horror–-the one first maimed–-had both its hooks in Liam’s shoulders and was dragging him deeper into the main cavern.

Tali, Aradin, and Barth sprinted down the passage after it. They passed Remira, who stood immobile and ineffectual, only watching as the beast carried off one of her last remaining peers. Barth stayed with her while the other two kept running.

Liam didn’t scream or struggle, even when he slid into the shallows of the scarlet pool. The hook horror’s weight and large feet let it traverse the corpse piles with ease, whereas Tali and Aradin had to pick their way slowly and cautiously. Injured as it was, it would not escape them, but it might find time to kill Liam if they didn’t slay it quickly.

The divine fire burned low, but its vengeful appetites were still strong. Tali drew on it once more, and once more she willed herself forward.

“Inveniam viam!”

The gray mist appeared around her again and carried her to the hook horror’s side. She swiped upward, carving a line across the creature’s body from haunch to shoulder. It shrank away from her but did not release its prey.

Tali channeled the last of her mental fire. Her blade glowed and cast ghoulish shadows from the surrounding corpses. With a snarl, she cut into the creature’s neck.

Golden light spread from the wound and covered the hook horror’s entire body. Its skin sizzled and split, and acrid smoke mingled with the already pungent air. By the time the horror hit the ground, the radiance had scorched it black.

Tali stood back, breathing hard. With each breath, her mouth became drier and the rot-stench flooded her nose and throat. She turned aside and heaved. The remains of her sparse lunch joined the remains of a hundred dead.

The sick spell lasted only a moment. After it passed, she waited a moment to steady herself. Then she stood up straight, wiped the back of her arm across her mouth, and looked back at Liam.

During her moment of weakness, Aradin had found his way to Liam’s side. He pried the hooks from the man’s shoulders, flung the creature’s limp arms out of the way, and checked the wounds.

“Shit,” he said.

Tali moved to his side. “Is he alive?”

“Yeah.” Aradin hauled Liam to his feet and threw one of the wounded man’s arms across his shoulders. “Get his other side.”

Tali switched her sword to her off-hand and did as he said. Liam could walk and did, though clumsily; Tali sensed that he would lose his strength, direction, or both without someone to help him. He looked pale and sickly, but he didn’t make a sound.

Upon reaching the edge of the bloody pit, Aradin and Tali passed Liam to Barth. On solid ground, the weakened man shouldn’t need the aid of two people, but Tali kept an eye on him just in case. Aradin, on the other hand, spared his people only a cursory glance and walked past. The rest of the group trailed after him and filed into the hook horrors’ lair.

Tali raised a hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The result was replacing the sweat with blood, which she tried to wipe away with her other hand before it could reach her eyes. That only made it worse. She squinted and tried to shake it away. She realized queasily that she was almost entirely soaked in blood, and she would probably smell like this for a long time.

As she passed the dead hook horrors, she retrieved her halberd. It remained undamaged, despite the weight of the beast it had impaled.

“Tyr bless that smith,” she said.

On the other side of the horrors’ lair, a craggy stone wall rose up, lined with easy handholds. It would be only a little harder than climbing a ladder. Tali peered upward. She could make out a ring of faint light that might indicate the top of the wall, but she couldn’t tell how far away it was.

She looked at her halberd and sword. She’d need at least one hand to get up. With reluctance, she sheathed her sidearm, but she promised herself she’d thoroughly wash both it and the scabbard later.

“Lead the way,” she said to Aradin. “I’ll take up the rear, in case something else decides to make a meal of us.”

“You go up first,” he said. “Smack the shite out of any cultists wandering around.”

“I can do that, too.” She shook as much blood off her gauntlets as she could and prepared to climb.

“Wait,” Barth said. “Heal Liam first. That thing got his shoulders. He might not be able to climb.”

“Of course.” Tali drew on that other, more wholesome spring of energy, set a hand on Liam’s chest, and sent a wave of healing power through him. Although she couldn’t see them, she knew the holes in his flesh had closed.

His eyes focused on her. She waited a moment, expecting him to say something, but he stayed silent.

With a sigh, she turned and started up the wall. The mercenaries coaxed Liam to climb with them, and eventually, he did. The air grew colder and drier the higher they went, the red light faded, and the stench grew less oppressive.

At the top, Tali pulled herself into a familiar passage where she could hear water burbling nearby. She tipped her head back and laughed with relief. The nightmare was over. When she closed her eyes, the faces of the dead hovered before her again, but this time they didn’t seem so terrible.

She turned back to the pit and helped Remira onto the unbloodied stone. Liam followed her, spotted by Barth, and Aradin took up the rear. She offered him a hand up just as she’d offered it to the others, although a part of her expected him to shun the help.

To her pleasant surprise, he grasped her wrist and let her pull him from the pit. As soon as his feet found flat ground, though, he let go and tried to wipe his hand on his tunic. Tali sighed to herself; she’d gotten that reaction more times than she could count, but this instance was especially bothersome by virtue of its sheer insensibility.

“Thanks,” Aradin said brusquely. He looked up and down the passage. “Don’t suppose you know the way from here.”

Thanks was more than she’d ever gotten before, so she’d be happy with it–-especially since she hadn’t repaired her injustice yet. She nodded down the passage. “Towards the water. Let’s move.”

Chapter Text

Tali found the dock as empty as she’d left it. Faint moonlight glittered on the river beyond the inlet, serene despite everything unfolding within its reach.

“Here,” Tali said. “A boat is coming for us.”

“You really planned this out,” Aradin remarked. “How’d you know we was down there?”

“I didn’t until I arrived. I didn’t even know you four had been captured. I was here for the tieflings, the svirfneblin, and someone I haven’t found.” She turned to the mercenaries with a frown. “Have any of you seen a duke?”

Heads shook. “Might not know one if I saw them,” Remira said.

Tali sighed. Wyll and the Flaming Fists would be disappointed, but at the moment, she could do no more for Ulder Ravengard.

Setting her halberd aside, she knelt on the dock and extended her arm into the water, letting it run clear and cold over her bloodied gauntlet. She swished her hand, and red swirls danced around it.

“Clean your hands and faces while we wait,” she said. “We were just exposed to any number of diseases, and you were down there for far too long. Tell me if anyone starts feeling ill.”

Barth, Liam, and Remira went around the dock and sat on the other side, facing her. Aradin took the center, overlooking where the rowboat had been a moment ago. From there he could keep an eye on everyone and the river simultaneously, Tali thought with approval.

She unbuckled and removed her gauntlets and vambraces, casting them to the wooden planks beside her with a dull clank. The cool air and water felt heavenly on her sweaty palms as she plunged them into the river. Her armor had kept much of the blood from finding her skin, at least on her arms–-she expected to find her legs an alarming shade of red the next time she took off her boots-–and what little there was washed away quickly.

Cupping her hands, she scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on her face. She gasped at the shock of the cold and shivered as it ran down her collar. The slowly-forming crust on her face dissolved, and as it dripped from her chin, the water returned to its source pink.

A large splash disturbed the other side, and Tali looked across at the mercenaries. Liam had recoiled from the edge of the dock, gasping and sputtering, dripping with water. His eyes finally looked clear, and in them Tali saw terror.

“Oh gods!” he cried out.

“Hey,” Barth said, “calm down. It’s just water.”

Liam breathed hard. His gaze found Tali. “You-–it’s you again.”

Tali tipped her head to him.

“But the jailors.” Liam hunched his shoulders and glanced around anxiously. “Where are the jailors?”

“Not here,” Remira muttered. “Yet. Keep your voice down.”

“There are no more jailors,” Tali said. “It’s the rest of the tower we have left to worry about. Can all of you swim?”

“Swim?” Barth said, dismayed. “I thought you said a boat was coming.”

“If our enemies reach us first, we may have to make our own escape. Keep your ears open, just to be safe.”

Tali bent her face to the water once more, and this time she brought the water to her lips and drank. It tasted like iron, but then, she already tasted iron. At least now her mouth was less dry.

Letting out a sigh of satisfaction, she sat back. The three across from her were staring: Liam with confusion, Barth with curiosity, and Remira with undisguised suspicion.

Of course they stared, and of course they were distrustful. She was still the tiefling who’d almost murdered their boss. Most people had a hard time looking past the horns, tail, and glowing eyes, no matter what she did; this group had a good reason to regard her with doubt and even hostility.

“Hey,” Remira snapped. “Tiefling.”

“Yes?” Tali said.

“Why’d you get us out?”

“Because I worried you might be trapped, and I was right.”

“No other reason? No plans for us?”

Tali’s eyes wandered from the mercenaries to their leader. His face was mostly clean, but his hair was still dark and matted. The last time there’d been that much blood in it, it had been his blood, and Tali’s fault. Guilt pricked her heart again.

“There is… one thing I need to do,” Tali said. She got to her feet and flicked the water from her fingers.

As she strode around the dock, her heart sped. She tried to calm herself; her misdeed was already done, so surely there was nothing to fear. Surely she didn’t fear just consequence.

She stopped next to Aradin and looked down at him. The other three mercenaries moved, and out of the corner of her eye Tali saw one leap upright.

“Aradin,” she said. “Stand.”

He eyed her warily. “What for?”

“You should stand.”

Slowly, cautiously, he stood. As he rose, Tali dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

“What are you-–” Aradin started to say

“I have dealt unjustly with you,” she interjected, “so I’ve come to seek your forgiveness.”

Silence followed. The river rippled against the docks and echoed off the stone around them, and Tali held her breath in anticipation. Eventually, a response came.

“You have been a pain in the arse,” Aradin said. “But… what’s this about?”

Tali blinked, astonished that he didn't assume immediately. “The third time we spoke, I tried to kill you. It was a grievous misjudgment, and it’s become a deep regret.”

More silence. At length, Liam spoke up.

“An–-an honest mistake, surely. You’ve done right by us as far as I’ve seen.”

Tali shook her head. Coagulated blood kept her hair from falling into her face. “No. I was unfair from the start, and I have been unduly demanding.” She raised her eyes only enough to see the tops of Aradin’s boots. “Of you most of all. Tell me what you’d have me do to atone for my error.”

“This ain’t my arena,” Aradin said. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you forgive me.” Her chest felt tight. “But my insults were severe. I accused you of betraying and abandoning your own people. I meant to murder you that day, and I nearly did. That demands punishment or reparation. You….” Her mouth went dry again, and she swallowed. “You would be within your rights to take my head.”

“You’re completely mad,” Barth said, aghast.

“I’m not.”

Another long pause followed. Already Tali felt lighter, but she couldn’t relax until judgment had been passed.

“Your head, huh?” Aradin sighed. “Nah, get up.”

Tali rose. “I’m forgiven?”

“Sure.” He shifted uncomfortably. “You know I don’t work your way. You want something to do, go… run a lap, or something. But that’s your business.”

“No,” Tali said, obstinate. “You’re the injured party. I would make up for what I’ve done and repay you for your mercy.”

Aradin gave her a deep frown. “Fine. You can make sure me and my boys get to the city safe. Good enough?”

Tali placed a hand over her heart and bowed. “By my oath and honor, it shall be done.”

“And stop… that.”

“I mean to do right by you.” She straightened. “I have no intention of asking forgiveness for something so dire again.”

“Right. Good.” He took a few uneasy steps away from her and knelt by the water again.

Tali gazed out over the shadowed inlet, hoping for a sign of Karlach. Her spirits felt higher than they had since she’d crossed into the shadow-cursed lands, and she breathed deep of the eternal night air.

“That’s it?” Remira said. “That’s what you wanted?”

Tali glanced over and met her incredulous gaze. “Yes.”

“You waded through a pit of corpses and fought three hook horrors just so you could apologize to the boss?”

“And to rescue you all. Yes.”

The mercenaries stared at her again. She sighed and put her back to them.

A few more long, indistinguishable minutes passed. Tali walked back the way they’d come to watch and listen for guards, and the mercenaries muttered among themselves. A few times she heard references to herself, though never quite by name; they were still figuring out what to make of her. She’d found herself driven out of villages with stones and arrows before; confusion was a preferable reaction by far.

Eventually, the sound she’d dreaded reached her ears: footsteps from within the dungeon. She strode back to the dock.

“Enemies incoming,” she said. She bent down and started undoing the latches of her greaves. “We swim.”

The mercenaries eyed the water unfavorably. “Which way?” Remira asked.

“Upriver and across.” Tali threw off one greave, then the other. “Once you’re out of the river, don’t stop moving. I can’t have anyone freezing to death.”

“What about the shadows?” Aradin said. “We haven’t got any torches.”

“Godsdamned… you’re right.” She unbuckled her sword belt and thrust it towards Aradin. “Here. This blade has a minor enchantment. If you’re attacked on the other side, hold the enemy off until I arrive.”

Aradin accepted the sword. “You ain’t staying,” he said.

“No.” Tali started working on her left pauldron. “But I’ll sink like a stone in this armor. I’ll come as soon as I can. Go.”

Remira and Liam didn’t waste a moment more. They dropped from the dock and sucked in their breath when the frigid water rose chest-high.

“Barth,” Aradin said. The half-elf turned, and Aradin tossed him Tali’s sword. “Stick with the others. I’ll be right behind you.”

Barth nodded, buckled on the sword, and plunged into the river.

Tali spared Aradin a brief, uncertain glance. “What are you doing? Go with your people.”

“You’re taking too long. If you want to keep your promise, you have to not get killed.” He moved to her side and undid the straps of her right pauldron. “Travel lighter next time. Or get a squire. You people do shite like that.”

“I’m not a knight.”

Her pauldrons dropped, and one rolled into the water. She doffed her helmet, then the coif underneath. She was sad to see both go; at Last Light, Dammon had modified them to fit her horns free of charge. She wouldn’t take advantage of his charity for the replacement.

Tali shrugged off her pack and held out her arms. “Get this chainmail off me, but mind the horns.”

Aradin hastened to obey, but despite her instruction, he got the hauberk caught on one of her horns almost immediately. Tali twisted her head, trying to extricate herself.

“Hold still,” Aradin muttered. Although she did not really trust his competence to get her out quickly, she did as she was told. He unhooked the chainmail, and it dropped in a pile next to the rest of her discarded armor. Tali was left in the stained padded gambeson she wore beneath the steel.

Distant voices echoed through the prison and passageway. “The warden’s dead!”

“Someone broke through the wall of this cell!”

“Damn it! Get after them. The prisoners must not have gotten far.”

Tali seized her halberd.

“Oh, no.” Aradin put a warning hand on her arm. “You ain’t fighting them. Not like that. Time to go.”

Reluctantly, Tali dug a leather strap from her pack, wrapped it around the polearm’s haft, and crossed it over her chest. She picked up her bag and shut it as tight as she could, praying its oiled leather exterior would protect what goods she had inside it. With a running start, she dove into the river.

The rushing of water past her ears replaced all other sounds. When she surfaced, she heard a second splash behind her. Already her gambeson was soaked through and weighing her down. She took a deep breath, lowered her head, and swam.

The first few seconds passed swiftly as she powered through the river, but once she left the inlet, she found herself struggling against both the current and her own weight. Had she not taken off her steel armor, she might have had no chance of escaping the cultists. This would be difficult enough.

The moonlight she’d seen on the river turned out to be no moonlight at all. Instead, it came from the moon lanterns lining the lower level of Moonrise Towers; the sky above was dark as always. Any number of archers might have their eyes and arrows on her at that moment, so Tali spurred herself to greater speed to escape them.

If arrows fell, she didn’t feel them and couldn’t hear them over the water rushing past her. Her stamina flagged, but even as she slowed, she remained unharmed. She passed out of the lanterns’ light and into the protection of darkness.

The vague gray form of the opposite bank seemed determined to pull away from her, but she chased it with determination, refusing to let the current sweep her away from her goal. The cold had sunk bone-deep, deep enough she could ignore it. She barely felt the water between her fingers. That was bad. She had to get out and get dry as soon as possible.

Finally her feet found the gravelly river bottom. She dug her toes into it, stood up straight, and waded the rest of the way. By the time she reached dry ground, the breeze cut through her wet skin and made her shiver and sting.

She looked around, first ahead, then behind. Another form cut through the water and would probably land only a little further downriver than she had. No sign of company on land.

Tali unlaced the sleeves and front of her gambeson, shed it, slung it over her arm, and walked up the beach to seek high ground. Her arms and legs burned from the effort of crossing the Chionthar, but the ache was nothing compared to the cold.

She hung the gambeson on the first tree she found and peered into the twisting shadows for any sign of the adventurers who’d gone ahead. She doubted any of them matched her strength and endurance–-few people did–-so they might have landed downstream. She ignited an azure flame in her hand.

“Someone is gonna spot that light,” said a warning voice behind her.

Tali turned to find Aradin. The dip in the river had washed away most of the gore from the pit, but he didn’t look much better for it. Instead of a hideous ghoul, now he reminded her of a stray dog left out in a storm.

“That’s the idea,” she replied. “I’m making it easier for the others to find us.”

Aradin looked around nervously. “Or something hungry.”

“The shadows fear light more than they crave blood. Your men are in far more danger than you and I.” Tali readied her halberd. “Relax. You have my promise of your safety, remember?”

She threw her soaked gambeson over her shoulder and walked slowly downriver, holding the produced flame aloft. Periodically she and Aradin called into the darkness, but the only response they received was the shrill, distant howls that filled the shadow-cursed lands.

At long last, though, they found humanoid voices. They sped in the direction of the sound and were rewarded with three figures stumbling from the darkness. Relief washed over the group as they reunited.

“The gods are good,” Tali said. “Were you attacked?”

Barth shook his head. He patted the pommel of his borrowed sword. “I’ll keep holding onto this for now, though.”

“Suit yourself.” Tali pointed her chin inland. “To the inn.”

“Not so fast,” Aradin said. She looked at him questioningly. “My boys ain’t had enough in the way of food or sleep. Push ‘em too hard, and the shadows might take a shot at us–fire or no fire.”

Sympathy swayed Tali’s heart. He was trying to stand tall, trying to mask his own exhaustion, but she knew he wasn’t only talking about what his people had suffered. The threatening looks he kept casting into the night betrayed his fear.

“Then we make camp,” Tali said.

“We’re still close to the river,” Aradin said. “The ‘Absolute’ buggers will see our light from the other side.”

“And we’ll see them. The deeper we get into the cursed woods, the more cover the enemy has–-and the more likely we are to be choked by awakened roots in our sleep.”

The mercenaries shared uneasy looks. Aradin scowled down at the nearby riverbank but nodded his acquiescence.

“I’ll find some firewood,” he said. He pointed at Tali. “You stand guard.”

Tali bowed her head. Aradin walked briskly into the surrounding woods to scavenge fallen branches. His errand wouldn’t take long; in these lands, most plants were dry as bone, practically begging to become kindling. While she waited, Tali set the butt of her halberd in the earth and surveyed the area around her. Nothing crept towards her through the shadows, but the woods were full of ominous sounds: cracking, creaking, rattling, wailing. She couldn’t tell how far away the noises were, so she remained vigilant.

The wind picked up. Between the water that still soaked her and the chill air, she became bitingly, numbingly cold. She realized with some distaste that her clothes would not dry anytime soon, especially not if she kept them on. The three adventurers with her seemed to be no better off; Liam rubbed his arms and watched the woods anxiously, and she heard Remira’s teeth chattering violently.

“Did you see any mind flayers while you were at Moonrise?” Tali asked.

Confused and fearful eyes spun her way.

“M-mind flayers-s?” Remira said, fighting her shaking jaw. “Th-there were mind-d flayers in there?”

“Perhaps not. Did anyone put something in your eyes?”

Their expressions became increasingly bewildered. Barth’s brow furrowed in concern. “No. No, nothing like that.”

“Good. That’s a relief.” But it also raised questions, most importantly: If the cult hadn’t infected these prisoners, did they have somewhere else where they kept those who were destined for tadpoles?

A voice rang in her mind, the one from the Astral Prism. The pit. It resembled a mind flayer oubliette. There may be a colony nearby.

The voice astonished Tali. “I haven’t heard from you in some time.”

You haven’t needed my guidance.

At the same time as the Prism-voice’s response, another spoke up, this one aloud. “W-were you ex-p-pecting to hear something?”

Tali turned. The mercenaries were watching her with new misgiving. She must have seemed to be talking to herself; she shut her mouth and said nothing else to the dream-voice.

The rest of the wait passed in awkward silence. Tali walked to and fro and stomped her feet, trying to stay warm, but the stinging and numbing cold lingered in spite of all her efforts. She was relieved when Aradin returned with a generous armful of firewood.

The adventurers built a campfire, and Tali cast her blue flame into the kindling to ignite it. It burst to brilliant orange life, the first comforting warmth she’d felt in a long time. As the flames spread along the wood, she realized how hungry she was.

The mercenaries sat around the fire, huddling close to it and to each other. Tali leaned her halberd against the nearest tree, laid out her gambeson on a nearby stone to dry, and knelt to search her pack. It hadn’t stayed completely dry, but it was the least wet thing she had right now. Luck smiled on her; her rations were intact.

“Do any of you have an appetite?” she said, producing a pack of hard crackers.

Hungry eyes turned to her. Before anyone answered, she knew she’d receive a resounding yes.

“Gods, yes,” Barth said. Liam and Remira nodded tiredly.

Tali passed them all crackers, followed by meager servings of jerkied beef. She turned to Aradin and proffered a portion.

He eyed the food as if analyzing it. “Got enough for everyone?”

“For the night,” she replied. “We’ll reach Last Light tomorrow, where we can take advantage of the Harpers’ stores.”

After another moment’s consideration, Aradin accepted the food with a curt nod. Tali took a small portion for herself and set it aside.

Now that the group was together and the fire was lively, she could do what she’d been waiting to do. Turning aside, she unlaced the front of her tunic and started pulling it off over her head. Shouts of protest arose when the mercenaries noticed what she was doing.

“Whoa! Hey!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Stop that!”

“Um….”

“Points-–”

She didn’t catch everything they said, but she got the general message. Against their reprimands, she finished taking off her tunic, baring her well-muscled torso to the wind. A shudder ran through her from the cold, but it was better than cold water.

“Calm down,” she said, glancing behind her. Barth and Remira watched with bulging eyes, aghast. Liam had his face averted, a hand up to block her out of his peripheral vision. Aradin recoiled, his limbs coiling tight to his body like a dying spider.

“The Hells are you doing?” he said.

“Since we’re stuck sleeping in the shadow-cursed lands, cold and naked is better than cold and wet.” Tali laid out her tunic next to her gambeson. “You should all do the same. You and your clothes will both dry faster if you take them off.”

Their appalled looks didn’t change.

“You all have traveled through the wilderness and, I presume, camped together,” Tali said, putting her hands on her hips. “Surely you don’t mind seeing each other naked from time to time.”

“It’s not something we try to do,” Aradin said, his voice significantly shriller than normal. He’d turned his head almost all the way around, becoming less like a bedraggled dog and more like a soggy owl.

Tali scanned the rest of the group. There wasn’t one among them who didn’t look deeply uncomfortable.

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen worse than embarrassing blemishes and undersized members. And I won’t do anything to you. I’m no nun, but I’m also not a succubus in disguise.”

“It’d be a pretty shitty disguise,” Aradin remarked.

Tali chuckled wryly. “I’ll take that as a rare compliment.”

Was it the firelight, or was he turning red? “I didn’t-–”

“I know. It’s the points.” She slipped out of her trousers and underclothes and left them with the tunic. She knelt with her back to the mercenaries.

Ordinarily she was a fast eater, but tonight-–if it was night–-Tali ate slowly. Hungry as she was, the memory of the corpse pit and its stench was enough to turn her stomach and keep her appetite at bay. She nibbled her food slowly.

Behind her the adventurers were back to gossiping. She imagined them sneaking fascinated looks at her, and could she fault them? They were ignorant, and she was nude.

“That's a lot of points,” Barth murmured.

Liam piped up, but he kept his voice low, almost fearful. “Be kind, Barth. I’d be dead a few times over if not for her efforts. You wouldn't be much better.”

“It's not unkind. It's true. All down her back, like a dragon.”

“Or a devil,” Remira said.

“That’s enough,” Aradin interjected. “Do dragons and devils sound like something you want to piss off?”

Tali couldn't deny the comfort that came with the ensuing silence. She finished her meal in peace. In fact, she felt more at ease than she had in a long time, even though that seemed paradoxical in light of the day's events. She realized it was the mental quiet; she'd traveled with her fellow infected so long that she had grown subconsciously accustomed to constant background noise and the minor, often inadvertent intrusions of others' minds. The mercenaries had no tadpoles. Their thoughts were their own, and by the same token, so were Tali's. She could think freely.

She finished her meal, then strode to the side of their camp that faced the river. She sat cross-legged and looked out over the water at the imposing silhouette of Moonrise Towers. Moon lanterns glittered all over its exterior, the closest thing this gods-forsaken land had to stars. She eyed the water between there and here, alert for signs of pursuit, but for now the night remained still.

A canine howl split the air and echoed through the black woods. Tali took note of it without alarm, but she heard a sharp intake of breath from someone behind her.

“Even without torches we'll be safe,” Tali called back to them. “Get what rest you can, and stay close to the fire and each other.”

“Yeah?” Remira said in a shaky voice. “Are you gonna watch us all night?”

“We'll take watches. Now rest, or you'll be dozing off during your turn.”

With grumbles of discomfort, the mercenaries settled in for the night. To Tali’s displeasure, all of them kept their soaked clothing on. She huffed. Come morning, she'd have to spend all her divine magic banishing sickness and hypothermia.

Exhaustion overtook the group, and despite the discomfort of their current circumstances, all were soon fast asleep. Gentle snores mixed with the noise of the forest. Tali yawned. Sleep beckoned, and she longed to follow. She might dream of the corpses beneath Moonrise or of the old dead, but she decided that would be preferable over tadpole dreams. Nightmares were normal, and she could use some normalcy.

She resisted the drowsiness. She’d sworn to keep these four safe, so until they reached their destination, she would stand guard against anything this accursed place sent their way.

Chapter Text

Indistinguishable hours passed. Without a moon or stars to measure by, Tali had no way of telling how long she kept watch. At some point the hard ground started digging uncomfortably into her ankles and rear end, and she stood to stretch. Beyond the camp, the woods remained as tranquil as anything in the shadow-cursed lands ever got.

Tali yawned and shook her head. She crept across the camp proper and checked her clothes, finding them chilly but mostly dry. She slipped them back on. The gambeson was still moist; if the gods were good, it would be dry enough to wear by morning.

Gingerly stepping around her current companions, she picked up fresh firewood and fed it to the dwindling flames. Embers stirred to new life, and a cloud of glowing cinders floated into the air. Her distance from the group had left her literally out in the cold, and the warmth of the campfire felt sublime by contrast. She looked forward to her turn asleep.

As she stood, a sourceless voice spoke. She would have expected the person in the Prism, but this time it sounded like Gale–-a sending spell, she guessed.

“Tali, we reached the inn safely,” Gale’s voice said, near enough that she could believe he was right next to her. “Karlach can retrieve you at any time. How are you? Where are you? You have twenty-five words.”

Tali turned away from the others and spoke softly to avoid disturbing them.

“I found the mercenaries below Moonrise and got them out. We had to flee across the river. We're on our way overland.” She paused. How many words was that? “There's something down there. It's immense. I might have found the Absolute.” She wasn't sure how much of her reply got through, and she wouldn't find out until she rejoined her usual party.

For now she had these folks to look after. She snuck over to Aradin and grimaced; he looked pale, maybe slightly blue, even in the warm light. None of the adventurers seemed to be faring well. Tali cursed them for their immaturity, but she had to admit that even among her kind, she cut an intimidating figure. Of course they didn’t feel safe around her.

For a moment Tali considered trying to stay up longer to spare the others the effort of the night watch, since they all looked so poorly. But she was their main defense against the shadows and the closest thing they had to a healer, so she had to be rested and fresh come morning to lead them back to Last Light Inn.

She bent down and gently shook Aradin's shoulder, dismayed to find his shirt still slightly damp on the side facing away from the fire. He blinked wearily and started to sit up.

“Take the second watch,” Tali whispered.

“Already, huh?” Aradin looked furtively at the surrounding woods and rubbed his arms for warmth.

“Stay up an hour or so. I'll let you decide the rest of the watch order. Your men will find it more palatable if the instruction comes from you.”

“They wouldn't know.” He got to his feet and brushed himself off. Moist dirt clung to him despite his efforts.

“They're yours and your responsibility. You'll know if anyone is incapable of keeping watch.” Tali offered him her halberd. “Here. Do you know how to use it?”

Aradin scoffed as he accepted the weapon. “‘Course. Most people figure out the basics–-militia and all.”

“Most humans, you mean,” Tali corrected. “Treat it well. It was a gift.”

“From someone important?” He raised an eyebrow.

“In a manner of speaking. One of the refugees made it for me to replace the sword I lost in the Underdark, when you dragged me away from that spectator.”

He eyed the blade of the halberd, appraising it. “Looks like you came out ahead.”

“I did.” Tali took a few steps away from the fire and started looking for a good place to curl up and rest. She’d already decided to brave the discomfort of distancing herself from the crackling warmth, just in case anyone else objected to her sleeping too close to them.

“Hold on. You got a moment?”

Tali looked longingly at the fire, then turned back to Aradin with a heavy sigh. “I suppose I do. What is it?”

He gestured towards the edge of the camp where Tali had kept watch moments before. She straightened and followed him, stepping lightly to avoid disturbing the others. The icy air washed over her and cut through her thin sleeves, and she shivered. Aradin propped the halberd against a lone, scraggly tree and crossed his arms. As Tali stepped up beside him, he turned a dark, serious look on her.

“What the Hells is happening?” he demanded.

Tali frowned, taken aback at his tone. “What do you mean?”

He pointed across the river. “Who are those people?”

Tali followed the line of his unsteady finger and set her eyes on Moonrise once more. Realization struck her that the mercenaries didn’t know what was happening, and how would they? This wasn’t their mess; at least, it hadn’t been.

“They're cultists of the Absolute, a mysterious entity they worship as a god.” Tali recalled the few she’d fought and lowered her voice to a murmur. “And she might just be one.”

“No god I ever heard of.”

“Me, neither. She’s something new, and it’s just beginning to rise to power. We might have met her today–-or at least come very, very close.”

He shifted uneasily. “The pit. Those walls really were skin, huh?”

“I’m not sure what any of that was. My ally suspects it’s a mind flayer oubliette. Exactly what that might mean, I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed. “Mind flayers?”

“Either the Absolute uses them, or they use it. Illithid tadpoles are how the cult has been spreading and maintaining control.” Tali pointed at her eye. “They insert a parasite into your brain, and the Absolute speaks to you and controls your mind. The cult calls the infected ‘True Souls,’ and they can channel the tadpoles’ influence to manipulate others in turn.”

Aradin shuddered and tried to pass it off as a shiver from the cold, but Tali had already caught onto his discomfort.

“Buggers would have done that to us,” he muttered bitterly. “Goes to show you, luck ain’t on anybody’s side.”

“What do you mean?”

“We was on a job. Supposed to be straightforward enough. Now more than half my crew’s dead, and the rest of us got mixed up with a bloody cult.”

“You don’t have to be,” Tali said. She would have set a comforting hand on his shoulder if she thought it’d have the desired effect. “I’m caught up in it, and so are my companions, but mostly because we don’t have a choice.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m infected.”

Aradin fell quiet for a time, and the river filled the silence for him. It seemed to Tali too calm, too constant. A new god was rising, but still the land stayed its heedless course.

When eventually Aradin spoke, all he could muster was, “Well… shit.”

“Shit for me,” Tali said, “but you have a choice. I swore I’d see you all to the city. There’s no price or condition on that. So hang back, keep your people safe, and–-”

“Hold on. If you’re infected, ain’t you controlled, too?”

“No. I’m protected. It’s a… long story… but suffice to say I have a powerful ally. He-–or it-–protects me and my companions.”

“All of you got parasites?” His alarm increased.

“And none of us are a threat,” Tali said firmly. “We’re fighting the cult to make sure we stay that way and to make sure it doesn’t claim any new souls.”

Aradin shook his head in disbelief.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Tali insisted. “I’m no different from how I was a moment ago, before you knew. Though I suppose you fear me either way.”

“I ain’t afraid of you.”

“Yes, you are.” She swept her arm behind her, gesturing to the trio of sleepers. “You lot are so afraid of one tiefling that you’d rather fall ill and let your blood freeze in your veins than feel even slightly more vulnerable around me. And I didn’t miss you wiping off your hand after I helped you up earlier.”

Aradin gave her a scowl. “That ain't nothing. Your hand was all covered in blood.”

“So were you.”

“Yours was wetter.”

Tali shrugged and stopped arguing. “It doesn’t matter. I'm past caring about the little gestures. Honestly, I just count myself fortunate you've never tried to throw holy water or suspicious herbs at me. Try and wash the tiefling curses away all you like.”

“Think about this: maybe people aren't afraid of you for being a tiefling. It's just ‘cause you're bloody terrifying.”

Tali frowned. “That seems like an exaggeration.”

“You carry this around.” Aradin pointed at the halberd. “And you're damn good at using it.”

“You just said most people are trained with polearms. That shouldn’t be anything special.”

“Yeah, well, most people don’t act so eager to use ‘em on other people. They don’t got your bad attitude, either. Even if you was a fat little halfling, nobody would like you.”

Tali's frown deepened; she couldn't decide whether to take that as a comfort or an insult. On the one hand, she liked the idea that these people might not mind her being a tiefling as much as she'd assumed. On the other hand, it was hard to approve of such a thorough accusation of unlikability.

“I'm not used to people,” she said dismissively, “and I was never the most charming woman to begin with.”

“Then run your mouth less. Easy fix.”

“You're not so easy on the ears, yourself.”

Aradin shrugged. “The people that matter like me enough. Don’t need nobody else, so I don’t take the rest of ‘em personally.”

“So you only stick with your own, and to the Hells with everyone else?” Tali shook her head. “That’s selfish, and it’s made you downright rude.”

“What, and you just got so much love in your heart? You don’t act like it.”

“Maybe I just don’t show it the way you expect.” She lifted her chin. “I prefer action. I protect and avenge the innocent, and I think that speaks far better of me than any words could. So it shouldn’t matter what I say.”

“Then it also don’t matter what I say.”

She huffed. “Your actions don’t speak well of you, either.”

“What happened to all that talk earlier? I thought you’d changed your mind about me.”

“I decided you don’t deserve death or unjust accusations,” Tali said. She raised a finger warningly. “I never decided you deserve any sort of honor.”

“Show some gratitude, Points. I dragged you away from that thing in the Underdark. Didn’t have to.”

Tali smiled wryly. “Funny. At the time, you had such pragmatic reasons for doing it.”

“Still saved your arse.” Aradin shook his head like a disappointed trainer. “Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you this–-you ain’t like the rest of us. Sticking your neck out for every sad sod without asking a copper for it is a fast way to end up broke or dead. You might like it that way, but I prefer getting something out of it, if I’m gonna do stupid shite like that.”

“I don’t actually like doing it this way, but I swore an oath.”

“You did that to yourself.”

Glassy eyes stared out from the past, and the inner fire stirred. It was almost spent after the day’s efforts but no less eager for blood, for revenge, for something to wreak terrible justice upon. Tali turned her back to Aradin.

“I found myself alone one day,” she said. “Tyr was the only one who hadn’t died or left, so I swore I’d serve him–-and punish whatever had killed his other followers. I kept that first promise, and I haven’t stopped finding things to kill since.”

“Idiot thing to do.”

“To you, maybe. I think adventuring is an idiotic career.”

“Why? It’s not so different. It’s just that I don’t make a point of running into danger. And I get paid.”

“And you have people who do it with you.”

“Don’t you? What about that wizard and the yellow thing–the folks you’ve been traveling with?”

“I only met them recently. I think it was only a day before I reached the Emerald Grove, actually.” It was perturbingly difficult to remember even a few tendays ago, after all the chaos that had come to pass since.

“You weren’t doing all that killing alone,” Aradin said, incredulous. “How’d you even survive this long?”

Tali knew it was a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway. “I’m a trained warrior, and I had some measure of divine favor on my side.”

“That weren’t enough to get you through the goblins.”

“No,” she admitted, “but I was never fighting great numbers of creatures before. If I was, I had a militia at my back. It doesn’t take a paladin to inspire people to protect their homes.”

“But you did the rest of it on your own.”

“Of course,” Tali said. She glanced at Aradin, then at the trio of sleeping mercenaries, then at the ground. “My people are dead. Solitude was the only option.”

“Your people? Not tieflings, I’m guessing.”

Tali wondered why he would guess that. A half-formed memory drifted across her mind. Had she said something to him before, something she couldn’t recall? If only she knew what she’d said at that blasted party.

“No, they weren’t tieflings,” she confirmed. “They were Tyrrans. Most of them were priests or knights, but some were commoners, like the gardener and the horsemaster.”

“There’s lots of Tyrrans in the world, you know. ‘Your people’ ain’t even close to dead.”

“But there’s no replacing family.” Tali couldn’t help a grimace, and she quickly tried to wipe it from her face. “Besides, most of them are in cities along the coast, working with one faction or another, and I’m not fond of cities.”

“Baldur’s Gate might change your mind.”

Tali was happy to let the subject switch; she still didn’t know how to talk about her life before she was Retaliation. She gave him a sarcastic smile. “Oh, really? Tell me, then: what’s so good about the Gate that it makes you want to spend all your time on dangerous journeys far afield?”

“Lots of Baldurians don’t spend a lot of time at home.” A smile started across Aradin’s face, too, but his was full of genuine fondness. “It’s a good spot for people that don’t like standing still. Plenty of places to rest when you’ve been on the road a long time, and plenty of people with more gold than guts, all looking for mercenaries. Whole city runs on loot and swords-for-hire.”

Tali tapped her chin. She’d already lost much of her old familiar equipment on this unanticipated journey; she could restock in Baldur’s Gate before venturing back into the wilderness. If she was lucky, she might find magical armor. She might even look for a steed, if she could afford one. Perhaps she should take advantage of the opportunity while she had locals on her side to tell her what was where.

“I’d probably be spending gold, rather than making it,” she said. “After I get you four to the city, I might ask you to show me to a decent outfitter.”

“I can do that.”

Tali let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I might also make you buy me a drink. We’ll all need one after this. Hells, I feel like I could drink a cask of firewine.”

Aradin grimaced. “Might as well drink lamp oil.”

“I’ll drink anything that doesn’t taste like blood.”

“Just stay away from torches. And me.”

A chuckle finally escaped Tali. “All right. I will. And after I restock in town, I’ll be out of your way for good. No more fire risk.”

He opened his mouth, as if he was about to respond, but he seemed to reconsider. He turned away from the camp and held the halberd up straight. His eyes flicked over the river and the nearby forest.

As she watched him a moment longer, waiting to see if he had anything to say after all, Tali grew troubled. It wasn’t her imagination; he did look pale. A cold sweat had started to bead on his scarred forehead, perhaps from the effort of speaking, and he leaned on the halberd more than she had first noticed. He was sick already.

“Do you need to go back to sleep?” she asked.

“‘Course not.”

Tali bowed her head deferentially. “As you say. But conserve your strength. If you have to, make sure you and your people only take short shifts. I can take another watch.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Tali prayed that was the case. She took a step back towards the campfire.

“Hey, Points.”

“Yes?”

Aradin gave her a stern look. “Don’t give a damn about us. Alright? It don’t matter what we think. Sleep close to the fire. The others can’t care while they’re out, and if they complain, tell ‘em it’s their problem.”

“Thank you.” Tali gave another, deeper, more awkward bow. “Stay vigilant. First thing in the morning, I’ll heal everyone as best I can.” Internally, she added, You should have just taken your clothes off. It had been only a practical consideration earlier, but now the thought conjured an unexpected image. She blinked hard to banish it.

Before she could inadvertently look at Aradin for too long, she strode away. The fire didn’t seem quite as inviting and comforting as before, so she stoked it and added more wood. Hungry shadows gnawed at the edges of the light, but to no avail; the fire danced on, and the exhausted travelers remained safe within its glow. Tali did as she’d been told and curled up close to the fire, wrapping her tail around her legs so she wouldn’t accidentally touch anyone else.

The other three huddled together, blissfully undisturbed. Tali gazed at them. It would be so nice to sleep without the dreams of others hammering at the edges of her mind, but she had to rejoin her infected companions as soon as possible. They’d gone extended periods of time away from the Astral Prism in relative safety, but this close to the heart of the Absolute’s cult, she couldn’t take any risks. They had to stay together. It made her sad to think that after a day or so around others’ tadpoles, she'd be accustomed to the noise and chaos again. Her thoughts would only be this peaceful and private for a short time, and she had to enjoy it while it lasted.

She rolled over, letting the fire’s warmth caress her back. When she closed her eyes, she fell into the first quiet rest she’d had in a long time.

Chapter Text

Morning was no different from night and day no different from morning. Tali awoke feeling surprisingly well–-better than the rest of the group, at least–-but, true to her predictions, her first task of the morning was to spend a large portion of her oath-born magic banishing sickness. Under her ungentle healing hands, the mercenaries’ clammy skin regained warmth and health.

“Whatever you think,” she said to them sternly, “whatever you feel about me, don’t take any more unnecessary risks. Discomfort is preferable to death.”

She got a couple of sullen nods in response. Good enough.

Without weapons, armor, or supplies to carry, the mercenaries were ready to move as soon as they’d shaken off the sluggishness of sleep. They didn’t even have a camp to break, as the shadows would put out the remains of their fire sooner or later. Tali had very little to do in the way of preparation herself. She retrieved her halberd and pack and took a moment to throw on her gambeson, which had managed to mostly dry overnight. It would have to do.

As she joined the adventurers, her stomach grumbled. She was certain the others were just as hungry as she was, if not more so, but no one complained. Perhaps Jaheira would treat them to a warm, hearty meal upon their return.

“We’ll reach Last Light if we follow the river,” Tali said as she fished around in her pack. “I’ve traveled through most of this area already, so I don’t expect it to be too dangerous, but we might pass through deep shadows on the way.”

“That’s what you’re for,” Aradin said. “Stay in the middle of the group.”

“I intend to.” Tali frowned and reached deeper into her bag. Oh gods, don’t tell me it fell out. Her worry was assuaged when her fingers wrapped around a small, cool metal object. She held it up. “Aha.”

The mercenaries peered at it.

“A bell?” Remira said.

“Is it enchanted?” Barth asked. He leaned in closer. “It looks like silver.”

“It’s worth more than silver,” Tali said. “I’m not sure exactly how this will work, so gather in close. We can’t miss anyone.”

Despite confused frowns, the group huddled together. After looking around to make sure everyone was in the circle, Tali held out the bell between them and shook it. High, dainty notes pierced the oppressive air with almost supernatural clarity.

Tali waited for some kind of light to emanate from the bell and envelop them, but there was no reaction. A few seconds passed, long enough for her to get questioning stares.

“I might not have rang it hard enough.” Tali raised the bell, about to shake it again.

“RING-RING!”

A puff of floral-scented smoke burst in the center of the circle. The adventurers jumped back.

“What the Hells…,” Aradin started, coughing.

The smoke cleared as quickly as it had come, leaving in its place a tiny woman with purple skin, purple hair, a purple dress, and buzzing wings. The pixie rolled in the air and cackled in delight before she came to hover in front of Tali.

“You look like you want to say the magic words,” she said with a wild grin. “Like they’re right on the tip of your lips!”

“Um….” Tali looked apologetically at the adventurers, all of whom stared at the fey with various levels of fascination and disturbance. “I don’t think you ever told me the magic words.”

The pixie’s shrill voice gained a patronizing whine. “Sorry, baby, you gotta use your brain to get this boon. Even if it’s the size of a pea.”

“I beg your-–”

“Oh-ho-ho! I do like it when they beg.” The pixie made another circle, giggling madly, and Tali watched her impatiently. When she noticed the disapproving stare, the pixie stopped and pouted. “Hey, now. Why the long face?”

Tali opened her mouth, but she didn’t get a chance to say… whatever she was going to say. The thought vanished from her mind as her eyes rolled to either side. Before she’d been looking the fey creature right in the eye, but now she somehow saw the river and the woods simultaneously. She craned her long, long neck to peer down at the pixie, who now hovered far lower than she’d seemed a second ago. Tali whinnied in dismay.

The pixie made some other kind of noise. Maybe it was words. Did Tali know words? What were they? Strange, useless things. Grass, though. Now there was something she understood. And she was hungry. Oh, yes, very hungry. She bent to investigate the ground and huffed at its disappointing barrenness.

With a flash of lavender light and a pop, the tiny woman disappeared. The light was startling, and the noise was worse. Tali backed away, pawing at the ground and snorting nervously.

Suddenly, the nerves vanished, and she wasn’t so high up; instead she found herself on her hands and knees in the dirt. All thoughts of grass dissipated, replaced once more with familiar, intelligible words. She shook her disoriented head to try to clear it, and it took her a moment to notice the laughter ringing around her.

She stood up and brushed off her trousers. Aradin and Remira were cackling at her, and Barth chortled along, though he half-hid his laughter behind his hand. Liam looked on in concern.

“Blasted fey,” Tali muttered. She looked around at the ground, hunting for the bell. It didn’t take her long to find, thanks to its pristine silver sheen. She rubbed the dirt off of it. “I guess we’ll try again.”

Liam reached out as if to stop her. “No, I don’t think you need to-–”

“No, no, no.” Remira recovered from her laughter long enough to shoot him a mischievous look. “Let her do it again.”

“Do what again?” Tali clutched the bell close. “Whatever she did to me, it seemed harmless enough.”

Remira waved her on. “Yeah. Worth the risk. Do it again.”

“Hold on,” Aradin said. “What are you trying to get that thing to do in the first place?”

“We need her blessing,” Tali said. “She can protect us from the shadow curse. But it seems we’ll have to get her to cooperate.” She glared at the bell.

Barth nodded with false solemnity. “A difficult job. Good luck.”

“What?” Tali scowled at him, then at the other two who’d laughed. “It’s not that funny. She’s just a pixie. An ill-behaved one, but that’s nothing special.”

“You’re right,” Remira said. Like Barth, she tried to look serious, but a smile kept pulling at her face. “It’s not that funny. So you should just go on and… teach her a lesson.”

“No!” Liam gave Tali a sympathetic look. “It’s fine. I think we got her blessing.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to make sure,” Aradin said.

Tali sighed. “Fine. But before I summon her again, do any of you have an idea of what her ‘magic words’ could be? We only have so much time to waste.”

“I don’t know,” Remira said with a shrug. “Oi, Barth. You can do magic. What do you think?”

“I can’t do shit,” Barth argued. “What, you want me to get turned into a horse?”

Tali gave him a sharp look. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You were a horse. Oh, hey, boss, think she can do other animals?”

Aradin turned sly eyes on the bell in Tali’s hand. “Only one way to find out.”

With a muttered curse, Tali shoved the fey bell back into her pack. “Gods give me patience. Am I babysitting children now? This isn’t a circus.”

Her frustration sparked another round of giggles, especially from Remira. Rolling her eyes, Tali snapped her fingers and conjured a new blue flame.

“Form up,” she said, “and don’t let your guard down. We’re still in danger.”

“What about making sure?” Remira complained.

“If what Liam said is true, you already have the pixie’s blessing, so there’s no point wasting her time or ours. Let’s move.”

Disappointed that their entertainment had ended, the mercenaries arranged themselves around her. They set out, following the river on their left and staying out of reach of the woods on their right. Aradin took the lead, and Remira walked right behind him, keeping alert eyes on the surrounding terrain. Jumpy, nervous Liam stayed in Tali’s shadow, and Barth brought up the rear to make sure no one lagged behind.

True to Tali’s apprehension, the darkness deepened around the group, and her breath fogged in front of her face. The deep shadows closed in until she couldn’t see anything outside her tiny ring of light. The mercenaries clung to her side instinctively, and she held her flame higher, anxious lest her own shadow cast anyone into the dark.

Branches shook overhead. Tali could have sworn they were bending downwards, reaching for the travelers in their midst. The tumors on their twisted bark rattled. Pulsating green sacs dotted the plants and emanated an unnatural light, the only pinpricks of visibility in the otherwise black landscape. As boughs and bushes passed between the group and the lights, the lights flickered in and out of existence. Perhaps eyes were among them, the eyes of malicious shadows hankering for humanoid flesh.

Each breath and footstep echoed, disconcertingly loud to Tali’s ears despite all the other sounds of the shadow-cursed woods. The shrieks and howls of mysterious beasts nearly drowned out the trees’ agonized creaking. At times she thought she felt the ground beneath her feet shifting, threatening to open new chasms in the earth at any moment.

But the path remained where it was. No cracks or sinkholes appeared to swallow them up. Tali couldn’t quite see the way forward through the impenetrable gloom. She knew the river was somewhere to her left-–they couldn’t have strayed far from it-–but it was invisible and inaudible.

Despite Tali’s attempts to cure them of any maladies that might have resulted from the corpse pit or the cold river, everyone was tired and weak. Their feet dragged, and it wasn’t long before they were breathing hard. Maybe that was the cause for their silence, or maybe it was the region’s oppressive influence keeping their mouths shut. The longer they walked, the tighter wound the mercenaries became, shoulders hunched defensively against the darkness. Liam seemed particularly paranoid, and once or twice he bumped into Tali in his desperation to be close to her light.

Finally, the deep shadows began to give way, and before Tali’s tiefling eyes the world outside her flame turned gray instead of black. She dared a sigh of relief. Around her, the mercenaries began to relax somewhat.

“That should be the worst of it,” Tali announced. Her voice sounded uncomfortably loud even to her own ears.

Liam cringed. “I can hear something.”

“We all can,” Barth murmured. “But nothing’s come for us yet. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

The group marched on. Somewhere far off in the darkness, Tali thought she saw dots of light–-warm light, orange or white, not the sickly green of the ground and trees. Then the lights vanished from sight, and she had nothing to guide her forward except the line of the Chionthar as it cut through the cursed land.

To her left, the crooked remains of what might have once been a riverside warehouse loomed over a cracked road. Had they been anywhere but the shadow-cursed lands, a large structure like this would be a welcome sight, a place of temporary shelter where they could rest their feet. But Tali disliked the shadows of its splintered roof, and she started to usher her wards past the building.

Movement. Something was in the ruined warehouse.

“Wait,” Tali hissed.

Immediately, the people around her tensed and looked around warily.

“What is that?” Barth said.

Tali looked at him questioningly, and he jabbed a finger towards the path ahead. She looked.

Had she missed it before? Or had it only now slunk from the shadows to reveal itself? About nine meters ahead of the group, a stranger–-it seemed humanoid in shape and size–-crouched in the middle of the road near the old warehouse. It had spindly limbs, bony joints, and a mess of unkempt hair. Its only clothing was a ragged loincloth, and its spidery hands spread along the ground at its feet, as though trying to grab at something on the stone.

Tali stepped forward. “I’ll see if I can scare it off.”

As she moved, the rest of the group trailed behind her, unwilling to leave the safety of her firelight. She held her halberd at the ready in both hands, and her blue flame licked along the haft harmlessly. She leveled it at the creature.

“Begone!” she commanded, jabbing the halberd at it warningly. “Shoo!”

The creature crawled backwards, squinting at her with beady eyes. It sneered, revealing chipped and yellowed teeth. Its hands twitched. Tali looked down. It was holding a length of rope.

“ARGH!”

Tali whipped around. At the back of the group, Liam lunged the way they’d come, grasping at something in the shadows. Hands reached back for him, searching frantically for purchase, for rescue. Barth was in the dark, and something had a hold on him.

Tali rushed towards him. “Liam! Get back!”

Liam did as she commanded and moved close to Aradin and Remira. Tali moved past him, eyes fixed on the shadows where Barth might be. She could make out two struggling figures, one as thin and gangly as the thing in the road.

A hand seized the back of her gambeson and jerked her back.

“Stick close,” Aradin ordered. “You’re our only light.”

“But Barth–-”

“Stay.”

The pattering of bare feet preceded the arrival of the thing in the road. It scampered for Remira, and Tali slid past her to ward off the creature with her halberd. Another creature approached from the left, creeping over a jutting stone.

“Help!” Barth called from behind. “It’s got-–” His voice cut off suddenly. Tali hoped that didn’t mean he was dead.

“We need more light,” she said. “Get wood, whatever you can reach.”

Aradin and Remira looked around and took cautious steps away from her. Liam stayed at her side; his rapid breath belied his panic. Tali tried to stay in the center of the group, spinning from side to side to monitor the creatures. She could still only see two, but she knew a third had Barth, and there could be more hiding nearby.

One tried to rush Remira again. Tali jabbed at it, and it barely dodged the point of her halberd. It snarled at her, an animalistic sound despite its mostly humanoid appearance. It backed away, glaring at her light, while another rushed from the other side.

Tali took a step to brace herself and slammed the butt of her halberd into the second creature. It fell back with a wheeze and scampered away from her. It, too, carried a rope.

The wood-gatherers returned to Tali’s side unharmed, each holding a scavenged stick. The wood was dry. Tali hoped it would catch fire quickly and, more importantly, burn long enough to keep them safe.

Tali took the branch from Remira, held her produced flame up to it, and released it from her hand. As soon as it left her grasp, the fire burned bright orange and engulfed one end of the stick. She passed it back.

“Don’t let that go out,” she said. Remira nodded and brandished the branch against the creatures.

Tali turned to Aradin and prepared to conjure a new flame, but as he held out his branch to her, a shadow moved behind him. Tali didn’t get a chance to call out a warning. A slender rope fell over his head and wrapped right around his throat.

Aradin staggered back, clawing at the rope with his free hand. A fourth creature stood behind him. It tightened the rope with a malicious grin.

The inner fire flared to life in Tali’s mind and on her weapon. The halberd’s head gleamed with radiant energy. She swung.

The creature saw the blade bearing down on it, and golden light reflected in its dark, gleaming eyes. With a yelp, it vanished, and Aradin vanished with it. The radiance of the halberd dissipated when it met empty air.

Tali backed away, placing herself between Liam and Remira.

“Fiat lux,” she said, and a new flame appeared in her hand. She swept her gaze over the surrounding land, but she found no sign of Aradin, Barth, or their respective captors.

“Make a run for it,” Remira said. Her voice had a panicked edge.

“No,” Tali said firmly. “They want us separated. The best thing we can do is stay together. If that means holding our ground, then that’s what we do.”

Even as she said it, she knew it was only half true. Someone had to plunge back into those shadows and find the two who’d already been snatched away. She had a promise to keep, and the divine fury wanted to chase. To hunt.

The two remaining creatures circled the trio warily. They seemed fixated on Tali’s fire, as though they hated the light more than anything.

“Hold them off,” Tali commanded. “Stay together, and don’t let that fire go out. Move if you have to, get more wood, but don’t let it get dark.”

Liam turned frightened eyes on her. “What? But-–but we have your light.”

Tali took one hand off her halberd to set it on his shoulder. “Not for long. I’m going for the others. I’ll be back. No matter what happens, stay with Remira.”

“Hey!” Remira protested. “Barth’s got the only sword. We can’t fight them off.”

Tali held out her halberd. “Now you can.”

Remira gaped. “How will you-–”

“I’ll manage. Take it.”

Remira passed her makeshift torch to Liam and accepted the weapon. Tali peeled away from the pair, and they put their backs together to face the circling creatures.

Tali sprinted towards the nearest one. It leaped for her, swinging a rope for her legs, and stumbled in surprise when she stepped right into its attack.

As the rope ensnared one ankle, she brought up the other and slammed it down on the thing’s neck where it met the shoulder. Her strength brought it to the ground, dazed. Before it could recover, she kicked her trapped foot back, jerking the rope out of its grasp.

“No!” the creature yelled, frustrated. “Mine!”

Tali picked up the rope, and her unburning flame slithered along the strand without damaging it. The creature scrambled to its feet, scowling in fury, and held out clawed hands.

It slashed, and Tali sidestepped. As it turned, she swung the rope towards it and caught its wrist. It jerked back, but too late. Tali entangled its hand and pulled the rope tight, yanking the creature’s arm behind its back. It cried out.

Tali gave it one more hard kick, sending it sprawling. Before it left her grasp, she felt something pop in its arm. It wouldn’t pose a threat to the mercenaries anymore–or so she had to hope, because she didn’t have the time to try to finish it off with her bare hands. She raced into the forest.

Blue light and black shadow danced on wood and stone. Her footsteps resounded and were answered by a chorus of indistinct rustles and yells. The pounding blood in her ears made it hard to make out any familiar sounds in the shadow-cursed chaos.

A harsh laugh cut through the muddled noises. “Heh-heh!”

Tali turned around. Had it come from behind her? Was it another one of those creatures? As she held out her flame and sought any sign of movement, a dark stripe flashed before her eyes. She flinched back, and an instant later a line of painful pressure dug into her throat.

The thing laughed again as the rope pulled tight. Tali tried to suck in a breath before the garrotte could restrict her breathing, but the only result was a feeble gasping sound. The creature behind her yanked her backwards, and she staggered.

She missed her armor. Proper neck protection would have rendered these creatures’ methods impotent, and the weight of steel would have helped her keep sure footing. It also would have made her next move far, far more effective.

Tali planted her feet and launched herself backwards, landing on her back. Flesh and bone landed with her, wedged between her and the ground. The creature’s grip loosened momentarily, and Tali slammed an elbow back.

CRACK.

She’d intended to strike the creature’s side and leave a painful bruise at the very least, but instead her elbow met stone. The force of the impact sent shockwaves up and down her arm. She let out a hiss of pain and frustration.

Before she had a chance to try again, the garrotte closed back in, digging deep into her flesh. She writhed and pulled at the rope, but she couldn’t even get her fingers between it and her neck. She marveled at the scrawny monster’s strength. Surely it couldn’t hold her like this for long. She just had to keep fighting… keep pulling….

The garrotte held her neck almost immobile, but even so, she tried to twist her head and smack the creature with her horns. Although she made contact, she couldn’t muster enough strength to do real damage. The rope tightened again.

If she could speak, she would have uttered words of magic and made a misty escape. But when her mouth opened, not even air escaped.

The creature giggled in her ear, infuriatingly close. Tali reached behind her and clawed at its face. Her nails found skin, and she raked as hard as she could. Blood warmed her fingertips. The garrotte did not slacken.

Tali looked in the only direction she could: at the sky. Not even a day had passed and she was already failing to uphold her promise. After she left them, had Liam and Remira’s light gone out? Had she charged into the darkness in search of dead men?

She closed her eyes. Tyr protect me. Tyr protect them.

When she opened her eyes again, the black sky seemed to have gotten darker. She felt weak, so weak. Her skin was cold, but her face was hot. She gathered what strength she could and made another reach for her attacker.

SPLAT.

With a heavy, wet crunch, the creature lurched and stopped moving. Tali seized the rope and tore it away from her throat.

“Thanks for holding it still. Bugger got away after I took out a few of its teeth.”

Tali turned her head and found Aradin standing over her. His shoes glistened with gore, as did the branch in his hand. Sucking in heavy, rasping breaths, she rolled onto her side and pushed herself onto her knees.

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely. She rubbed her neck and looked around.

Blue fire still flickered in her hand, illuminating the remains of the creature that had struck her. Its head was pulp, a mess of bone shards, blood, and brain matter. She touched her horn, and her fingers came away wet and red. She grimaced at the thought of monster brains in her hair.

Aradin grabbed Tali’s hand and hauled her to her feet. “Where are the others?”

“Liam and Remira should still be together,” Tali said. It hurt to speak. “Last I saw, they still had a torch, and I gave them my weapon. I haven’t seen Barth.”

Aradin’s gaze darkened. “Neither have I.”

Tali shot the surrounding shadows a distasteful look. “Then I’ll find him. Regroup with–-”

“I’m coming with. You got the light, but you’re already in bad shape.” He started off into the darkness.

“Hold on.” Tali grabbed his arm. “We don’t know which way we’re going.”

“You mean you don’t.” He pointed ahead of him. “This is the way we came. Here’s hoping that thing didn’t poof too far away with him.”

Tali let Aradin go, and he strode purposefully across the uneven path between the trees. She kept up just fine, but with somewhat more effort and breath than she was accustomed to; that creature had hurt her severely in not much time. She feared what state they’d find Barth in, if they found him.

Tali had an idea, and she slowed enough to focus inward and draw on the divine fire. Ordinarily she used her seeking abilities to find monsters if they eluded her, but she could use it just as easily to locate an ally. She pondered: what item did Barth have on his person that her magic could identify and track?

Aradin glanced back at her. “You’re lagging.”

“I can locate an object. I’m trying to get a better trail.” She drew upon her oath, pictured the sword she’d lent Barth, and uttered, “Quoddam peto.”

Divination magic swept outward from her, and suddenly she knew. She pointed ahead, not directly in the direction they’d been walking, but slightly to the left.

Aradin gave her an impatient glare. “Could have led with that.”

“Well, we know where he is now. Move.”

She took the lead the rest of the way, guided by her spell. It drew her on in a straight line, heedless of the uneven terrain, so she frequently had to wind around trees and clamber over roots and jagged tears in the earth. At last, sounds of exertion reached her ears, and she no longer needed magical guidance to find her quarry. She rounded a large, bent tree.

Cradled by claw-like roots, two humanoids struggled on the ground. That was a relief; Barth was still alive and fighting. To her dismay, however, he was face-down on the ground, with the creature hunched over on his back. Its garrotte pulled Barth’s head at an awkward angle.

Tali knew she couldn’t let the creature know she was there until she was upon it. She couldn’t let it teleport away and take Barth with it.

The divine fire leaped and danced. “Inveniam viam,” she whispered.

Mist shrouded her, and after an instant of ethereal grayness, she appeared on the other side of the creature. It yelped in alarm and jerked away from the sudden blue light.

Tali kicked it in the ribs, and it rolled off of Barth. Its grip on the garrotte stayed sure, twisting half-elf’s neck to the side. The creature snarled in frustration and gave the light a hateful glower.

Bending down, Tali pulled her arming sword from its sheath at Barth’s hip. She swept it in a small sideways arc and sliced through the rope garrotte. Flung by the force it had been exerting to choke him, the creature tumbled away from its prey. Barth sputtered.

Before the creature could right itself, Aradin closed. He ran and threw his whole weight behind a wide swing. The heavy branch crunched into the creature’s jaw, spinning its whole body around and dropping it to its belly. It grunted in pain, its face was crushed and crooked, but it didn’t stay down. It got onto its hands and knees and started crawling away.

Urged on by her vengeful instincts, Tali bore down on it. She stomped on its hand. Its thin finger-bones cracked under her weight, and it shrieked. She held her sword point-down over the creature’s back.

She thrust the blade down, but before it made contact, the creature threw itself at her legs. She stumbled, off-balance, and it started to scamper back out of her reach.

It didn’t make it far. Aradin’s makeshift club swung again, and it slammed into the creature’s chest. It flew back to Tali and landed winded at her feet.

She set a foot on its arm this time and leaned all her weight onto the spindly creature to keep it from escaping again. She slit its throat. A spurt of blood bathed her feet and lower legs, and it stopped moving.

Tali stepped back, pushed sweaty hair away from her face, and glanced at Aradin. “What was that about ‘bad shape’?”

“You had help.” He offered Barth a hand up.

The half-elf man staggered to his feet, clutching his throat. His face was still flushed, and a grotesque purple welt crossed his neck, bordered by harsh red chafe-marks. Tali walked over, batted his hand away, and set her fingers to the bruise. The last dregs of her healing magic flowed into him, and the skin returned to its normal color.

“My gods.” Barth’s voice sounded perfectly clear, and his breathing was even again. He let his hand fall to his side and looked at Tali in wonder, then turned to Aradin. “Hey, boss, can we keep her?”

“That’s up to her.” Aradin’s eyes flicked to Tali, then back to the darkened path. “Come on. Best make sure Remira and the kid didn’t get themselves killed waiting for us.”

The three sped through the woods. Tali drew on her seeking magic again and redirected it towards her halberd. After mere seconds, a firelight shone ahead of her, and her heart soared; the torch had held out.

When he saw them coming, Liam pointed, and he and Remira rushed to meet the other half of their group. Wary though the pair was, the rope-carrying creatures were nowhere to be seen.

“Everyone’s alive,” Liam said in awe. His eyes gleamed as though he might cry.

“What happened to the creatures here?” Tali said. She looked around, expecting to see their hairy heads and evil eyes peeking out from behind any wall or tree.

Remira twirled the halberd. “I took out an eye. They decided we weren’t worth the effort.”

“Good.” Tali eyed her halberd, then looked down at the sword in her hand. She sighed and held the arming sword out to Barth. As Barth accepted the sword, Remira proffered the halberd, but Tali waved it away.

The human woman stood back with a frown. “It’s yours.”

“Today my main duty is the light,” Tali said. “If anything else accosts us, I might have to run off again, and I don’t want to leave you defenseless.”

Remira’s frown lingered, but she didn’t argue further. The group resumed their former marching order and set off along their intended path.

To Tali’s pleasant surprise, the rest of the journey passed in peace. The shadows ate away at Liam’s torch until it had dimmed almost to nothingness, at which point he discarded it. Unseen things in the dark kept keening and plants kept creaking, but nothing emerged to harass the travelers. Firelight appeared ahead of them, beyond the faint milky shell of a magical dome. Seconds later, they passed under the eaves of the curse forest and reached the bridge to Last Light Inn.

Tali breathed a sigh, and behind her, Barth and Remira cheered, exultant with relief at the sight of their destination.

“I thought we’d never make it,” Liam murmured, his voice tremulous. “I thought we’d never make it….”

Aradin clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice to be wrong sometimes.”

Barth stepped onto the bridge, rubbing his chin. “Gods, I can’t wait to shave.”

“You can’t?” Remira walked beside him and pointed over her shoulder at the other two men. “Be sensitive to the human boys here, yeah? You still look smooth as a baby compared to them.”

“A shave can wait,” Aradin said. “My first stop is supper.”

Tali’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food. “Mine, too,” she said.

“Then a bath,” Liam added.

“And then a drink!” Barth mimed raising a mug skyward. “We made it!”

Remira mimicked his gesture. “We fucking made it!” She threw her head back and laughed.

Tali let the mercenaries go on ahead, but one lingered a moment. Aradin patted her on the back and gave her a conspiratorial smile.

“That job’s still open,” he said.

“I’ll think about it.”

He lowered his voice to that slightly-too-familiar tone he’d used the first time he tried to recruit her. “Give it a go, Points. You deserve a little more than nothing for all this.”

She’d been wary the last time he used that voice, but now she liked the sound of it. “If you want to give me a reward, I’ll gladly take one.”

“That right? Then I’ll think something up. Bloody cult took all my stuff, though.”

“I can be patient.”

His smile grew, and he walked on with Tali trailing close behind. The spot where the warm weight of his hand had rested on her back felt strangely cold.

One by one, the group passed through the protective dome around the inn, and the deathly chill became more comfortable. Harpers and refugees alike turned to see the new arrivals, some with weapons readied. They stood at ease when they saw familiar faces.

“Soldier!”

A massive red shape charged out of the blue and slammed into Tali before she could react. Beefy arms wrapped around her, hoisted her into the air, and spun her in a circle. A wriggling in her mind and a faint mechanical whir told her who had accosted her: Karlach.

“You made it!” the big woman said. “I’ve been watching for you all. Day. Gale said you were coming. And I trust him and I trust you, so I didn’t run off to find you, but godsdamn I wanted to.”

Tali wriggled free of Karlach’s viselike grip. “Yes. We made it.” Karlach had quickly grown attached to all of her companions after her recruitment, but this level of affection and enthusiasm still caught Tali by surprise.

Karlach looked over the mercenaries, and her tail wagged happily. “Did you get all of them, soldier?”

“I did.”

“Ha! Lae’zel owes me money.”

“Then you should collect so you can buy us drinks,” Tali said, smiling.

“Right.” Karlach winked. “Meet you in the inn, yeah?”

As soon as Tali nodded, Karlach ran off again. Tali took a moment to recover from the hug and high energy. The woman was like a hurricane.

“Sounds like your friends had bets on how many of mine was gonna die,” Aradin muttered.

Tali shrugged apologetically. “At least they got Lae’zel to put her money where her mouth is, and we proved her wrong. Consider that a victory.”

She and the adventurers started towards the inn. On the way, she caught the dark, ember-like eye of Wyll, who leaned against the wall. He raised a goblet to her and grinned, but to her relief, he didn’t rush her like Karlach had. Tali wanted to like Wyll, she really did, but his infernal nature made her divine sense itch whenever he came near. He knew it, and he probably kept his distance for her comfort.

Tali frowned inwardly. Was she being unfair again? Surely keeping a devil at arm’s length was perfectly right and reasonable. Yet this discomfort was probably exactly what ignorant common folk felt towards tieflings.

She snuck a glance at Aradin. Even he–-however vicious his words were on their first meeting, however frustrated he was by her–-now treated her rather well, all things considered. At least, he had for the last couple of days. She suspected it would only last until the immediate peril was over; that was how things always went. Be that as it may, no matter the nervousness Wyll inspired, perhaps she should offer him a similar grace.

Grace. Patience, mercy, and the rest of their kind had become nearly unfamiliar in the absence of friends and comrades. Since Tali’s kidnapping by mind flayers, the gentler virtues had begun at times to creep back in: the moment she’d decided not to kill Aradin; the moment Gale had gently and generously tried to teach her magic, despite his discomfort with her actions; the moment Wyll had spared and recruited Karlach, knowing the risk to himself; the moment Tali had decided to let him stay after he became a devil; the moment she had learned of Shadowheart’s evil deity and chose to keep peace between them; and, just yesterday, the moment Aradin had accepted her apology and offer of reparation.

She smiled to herself. Grace. She wasn’t isolated anymore. Even if it didn’t last, even if these people didn’t stay, perhaps for now she could let things change.

Chapter Text

The inn was warm and crowded. Amid the smoky, delicious-smelling air, tiefling refugees, Flaming Fists, and Harpers mingled and drank. The Ironhand gnomes had their own table where they took slow sips and cast furtive looks at the rest of the room. Their leader, Wulbren, gave Tali a nod of acknowledgement when she walked in.

She got a more exuberant reaction from the rest of the room. A nearby tiefling child bounced excitedly on his feet and grabbed his friend by the arm. The second child gaped, then grinned in excitement, and their joy soon spread to the adults as they noticed Tali. Heads turned, sharp teeth flashed in welcoming smiles, and the inn erupted in shouts of welcome.

Tali took a step back, overwhelmed by all the voices. Had she done something?

One of the tieflings–-Alfira, as Tali made sure to remember–-leaped onto a barstool, and her colorful clothes fluttered around her. A woman next to her cursed and held the stool steady.

“Lo, she returns!” Alfira called out. “Pour some more drinks, and ready a table. Bring a feast for our hero as soon as you’re able!”

A flurry of movement ensued, and Tali could hardly make out what was happening. An arm hooked in hers and pulled her away from the doorway. She turned and found Shadowheart at her side, weaving a path through the packed inn.

“I wasn’t expecting such a loud welcome,” Tali remarked.

“They’re just excited to break out the wine,” Shadowheart said, smirking. “Some among us insisted that the party couldn’t start until you were back.”

“Who?”

“Gale and Karlach, mostly. Wyll argued that we could have two parties. Lae’zel argued that we could have none.”

A trio of tieflings finished wiping down a table and quickly stepped out of the way. Shadowheart guided Tali to a chair and sat across from her, then cast a searching look around the room. Tali tried to follow her eyes, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“You made good time,” Shadowheart commented. She leaned across the table. “You have us all curious about what you found down there. Your message cut off, but you piqued Gale’s interest.”

Tali sat back and sighed. Her belly was still empty, her neck still bruised, and here was Shadowheart, pulling her back to business already. “Yes. I’d like to wait until I can tell everyone about it, though. Or show them.” She tapped the side of her head.

“Fine.” Shadowheart moved to stand. “I suppose you’ll also want a warm drink. Take a moment and rest. I’ll find the others and bring them here.”

As the half-elf walked off, Tali searched the chaos of colors and sounds for the mercenaries. Shadowheart had dragged her away from them before she’d had the chance to excuse herself. Ordinarily she wouldn’t begrudge herself an abrupt exit, but she had a pact with those four now, so she owed them a special portion of her attention and energy.

At last she found them. As always, they kept to themselves, this time by crowding around a small corner table. Stained with gore and dusted with dirt, they looked severely out of place, and the wide berth they received from everyone else drove the point home. Tali saw their mouths moving, and although she couldn’t make out any words from here, their faces still looked bright. The relief of getting back safe hadn’t worn out yet. Happy as they seemed with the company of their own, their isolation made Tali wonder if they felt put out. After all, the joyous shouts hadn’t been for them.

The chair beside her scooted from its place, and a robed man dropped into it: Gale. Her divine sense beat an alarm in the back of her mind as a fiendish presence approached from behind her, and a moment later Wyll walked around the table and took the opposite corner. Shadowheart returned and took her spot across from Tali.

Gale smiled warmly. “Welcome back, Tali.”

“Thank you,” Tali said. “Apparently I didn’t know how welcome I would be.”

“Oh, come now. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to see their fearless leader return victorious from an impossible rescue mission?”

“Hardly impossible. It just took a little force.” She gestured as if striking with a sword and realized she’d left her weapons with the mercenaries. Casting her gaze back towards their corner, she found her sword on Barth’s hip and her halberd leaning against the wall behind Remira. She’d have to ask for those back later.

“It looks like you took a beating,” Wyll said, “and they took a worse one. Or you all clawed your way out of a dragon’s guts.”

Tali looked down at herself. She was nearly as bloodstained as Aradin and his people, and she realized she must have smelled awful. No one had covered their nose yet, though.

“It was bad,” she said. “I’m glad I went back for them.”

Bubbly, boisterous Karlach butted in. “I’ll say!” She appeared next to the table with tankards upon tankards in her arms, beaming.

Behind her slunk Lae’zel, who carried two more tankards and wore a sour expression. She muttered unintelligible phrases under her breath, probably curses in her mother tongue. She must have lost a lot on her bet.

Karlach set down some of the drinks. “Here, pass these around. Hey, soldier, Lae’zel’s buying for your friends, too, right?”

Wyll smiled. “Oh, I don’t know if ‘friends’ is the right word,” he said with a chuckle.

“But yes,” Tali quickly added. “Money bet on their deaths may as well fill their bellies.”

Karlach grinned. “Great.” She hoisted the last four tankards.

As Lae’zel slid into one of the remaining empty chairs, Tali watched Karlach skip off towards the corner. The mercenaries had to crane their necks to look up at her as she distributed drinks with great enthusiasm. If they were skeptical to any degree, Tali didn’t see it in their faces. Liam raised his tankard in a weak gesture of thanks. Aradin looked over his shoulder at Tali’s table.

Their eyes met, and Tali tipped her head questioningly. He gave her a quick thumbs-up. All was well. With a nod of satisfaction, Tali turned back to her companions, and a moment later Karlach flopped into the last chair.

“Who are those people, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve never met them.”

“Treasure hunters from Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll said. “They were sheltering in the Emerald Grove, but they moved on before we found you.”

“They were allies for a time, as well,” Gale added. “They attacked the goblins with us.”

“Aw, man.” Karlach sank in her seat. “Everyone was having fun without me.”

“We’ll give you something a little better than goblins, never you worry. Although that might depend on what news our homecoming hero has for us.” Gale raised an eyebrow at Tali.

Tali had started reaching for her tankard, but she withdrew her hand. She didn’t think she could stomach drinking while remembering the lake of blood and the stench of hundreds dead. She closed her eyes, conjured up images of the corpse-filled cavern beneath Moonrise, and let her tadpole make contact with the others’.

When she reopened her eyes, she found her companions recoiling in various states of revulsion and befuddlement. Shadowheart pushed her drink away with a disgusted look, while Gale steepled his fingers thoughtfully. Lae’zel drank on, unperturbed by the images, though she scowled at Tali’s use of the tadpole.

“The artifact said it might be a mind flayer oubliette, whatever that means,” Tali said. “It almost seemed alive somehow, with those… skin-walls.”

“Indeed,” Gale murmured. “What strange tissues. A mind flayer colony must be nearby, and that must be the source of the cult’s tadpoles. Now I only wonder….”

“Where they got the mind flayers,” Shadowheart finished, “and why they would choose them as their tool of domination.”

“They are not using the ghaik,” Lae’zel said. “The ghaik are using them. The cult must be a front for the Grand Design, a bid to bring the Illithid Empire to power in Faerun.”

“This is quite the elaborate ploy, if that is the case,” Wyll said. “And why would they infect so many en masse, but stop before transforming them? They’re not exactly being subtle. Why settle for thralls when they could have an army of mind flayers?”

“And why slaughter so many instead of infecting them?” Shadowheart added. “The cult has already claimed more lives than we could have predicted.”

“We don’t have enough information.” Gale tapped the table. “We need to go back in, and we need to get closer to their leaders.”

Tali grimaced. “We might have to get to Ketheric himself–-or past him-–before we can confirm anything. And we still don’t have any leads on his immortality.”

“Then that’s the first problem we solve,” Shadowheart said. “It seems you were quite thorough in eliminating the prison guards. You might not be recognized if you go back in.”

“I’d rather send you and Wyll,” Tali said. “They haven’t seen either of you at all. I know your taste for… subtlety… and I know Wyll is a good talker. You two have a better chance of getting in and getting information.”

Lae’zel tossed her head. “Bah. Give me an open window, and I’ll see to it in minutes.”

“Let’s get the nitty-gritty down later,” Karlach said. She was so low in her seat she’d almost spilled right out of it. She rested her tankard on her belly and tapped an idle rhythm on it; by the sound, it was already half empty.

Tali agreed.. “Yes. I need a proper meal and a bath. We’ll meet in the morning.”

Shadowheart looked annoyed, but she said, “Fine. Just remember how vital the mission is. We can’t procrastinate too long.”

“I’m not procrastinating.”

Lae’zel sneered. “You wasted an entire day to find a brood of unworthy whelps and drag them home.”

“They’re not unworthy,” Tali protested. She remembered her promise and braced herself for the githyanki’s next reaction. “And… they’re not home yet. I swore to keep them safe until they reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“K'chakhi!” Lae’zel rose to her feet. “You would abandon your own salvation and let ghaik thralls roam this plane for those kainyank? You are more foolish than I realized–-more foolish by far!”

Tali set a hand on the table, ready to stand to meet her. “My first priority is still the cult, but I had to make things right.”

Karlach sat upright, intrigued. “I’m missing a story.”

Tali pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Those mercenaries. I tried to kill their leader.”

“What?” The big woman’s head spun around, passing a disbelieving look between Tali and the corner table. “I’m really missing a story.”

“It’s not much of one, really,” Gale interjected.

“I want to hear it anyway!”

“Later,” Tali said. “I need to eat, and I think I need to sleep.”

“And you need new armor again,” Wyll added. “You have a knack for losing it, don’t you?”

“It wasn’t lost the first time,” Tali grumbled. “It got smashed. And this time I didn’t want to sink in the Chionthar.”

“Poor old Dammon’s got his work cut out for him,” Karlach said, shaking her head. “We can take our time on the game plan. We might not get out of here for a while.”

“Unless you leave without me.”

Shadowheart laced her fingers under her chin and fixed Tali with a piercing look. “And you can while away the days with your new friends?”

Tali hunched her shoulders. “It's like Wyll said. I'm not sure if ‘friends’ is the right word.”

Lae’zel seemed to finally lose her patience with the conversation. “Make haste, whatever you must do.” She turned and stalked away.

Karlach rocked her chair back, prompting a creak of protest. “She was real pissed to lose money.”

Wyll smiled. “She may never forgive us for talking her into a bet, but at least you got some decent drinking money for the risk.”

“Thank you for betting on me, at least,” Tali said. She looked at Karlach. “Thanks for taking drinks to the adventurers, too.”

“Not a problem, soldier,” the other tiefling said, flashing a grin. “Just tell them to stay out of trouble while we're bashing Absolutist skulls.”

“I will.”

The rest of Tali’s party got up, took their drinks, and left. One of the tiefling kids scampered up to bring Tali a generous plate of bread, stewed vegetables, and tender beef. After the long few days she’d had, it tasted better than a lordly feast. About halfway through her meal, the plucked notes of a lute wove their way through the commotion. Heads turned and voices lowered, only to rise again and join the song Alfira played.

Tali, unsurprisingly, didn't recognize the song, though everyone else seemed to. She listened while it lasted, and when it was over, she pushed herself away from the table and went in search of a bath.

~

The new armor was adjusted to fit by noon the next day, if anyone’s sense of time could be trusted. Tali couldn't decide whether to be grateful for Dammon’s speed or disappointed that her rest was cut so short. She thanked him, paid with the party’s pooled funds, and stepped out into the misty courtyard.

Despite its name, the inn currently looked more like a military camp than a roadside rest house. There wasn't enough room for everyone in the inn proper, so tents dotted the grounds, providing shelter for Harpers, Fists, and refugees alike. The air always buzzed with voices, and booted feet trod the grass flat. With a chapel and a garden, it could have felt like home.

Tali strode to the empty fountain in the center of the courtyard and sat on its edge. This might be the last comfortable seat she'd find for a while, and she took the chance to put up her feet. The thought of returning to the black-and-gray world outside, sleeping on the cold hard ground, and listening to the shrieks of the eternal night made her shudder. She’d strive to make her next outing a short one.

She looked up at the blank black sky. Gods, I can’t wait to see the sun again. Wandering the wilderness had been much more tolerable with the sun, stars, and living trees. This inn would be downright pleasant with some light.

Returning her attention to the courtyard, she glanced back and forth expectantly. At the moment, the only other people outdoors were Harpers, busy as always with maintaining supplies and fortifications. She adjusted the laces on her boots and collar while she waited. At last, a familiar figure emerged from the inn, and Tali stood and brushed herself off.

Clean, freshly shaven, and dressed in new clothes, Aradin looked little like he had the previous night. Tali thought he was a little thin, but maybe the ill-fitting borrowed shirt was to blame for that. In one hand he carried Tali's halberd, and in the other hung her sword belt. He held both out as he approached.

“Keep better track of these,” he said gruffly.

“Your lot were keeping track of them for me.” Tali took the sword belt and buckled it on before accepting the halberd. “Thank you.”

“Got any more errands that need running?”

“It wasn't an errand.”

“Were, too,” Aradin complained. “Sending me to fetch your shite while you sit around in your fancy new armor.”

Tali shook herself out, prompting the interlocking plates of her new suit to rattle and clink. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous. Two days ago you were advocating for traveling light, and this is the opposite. Besides, you said I needed a squire.”

“I weren’t volunteering.” He glanced around the courtyard. “Where's the rest of yours?”

“Grabbing lunch, I imagine.”

“Then you’ll be off again.”

“Yes.” A troubled frown crossed Tali’s face. “Stay safe while I'm gone.”

“What, are you my bodyguard?”

“I'm sworn to see to your safety. So, not far off, I suppose.”

Aradin rubbed his forehead. “I should have just made you do push-ups. You gonna be like this all the way to the Gate?”

“Like what?”

“Dramatic. You’re taking our little deal too serious.”

“If it was a deal, you could cancel it.” Tali planted her halberd in the earth and stood a little taller. “But this is a promise. I'll keep it until it's fulfilled.”

“See-–that.” He gestured to her, exasperated. “At least try not to sound so righteous about it.”

Tali scowled. “This is just how I sound. It's a serious matter, so I'm treating it seriously.”

“Right. You know it's fine, though, yeah?”

Her scowl deepened. “If it’s fine, why were you just criticizing me?”

“No, not that.” His impatience was increasing, written in his scrunched brows and pressed-thin mouth. “I mean you. That fight? Old news. You don’t got to worry about it so much.”

“It was mere tendays ago, and I nearly killed you.”

“Yeah, keep rubbing it in.”

Tali winced. “Sorry.”

“No, stop that. It don't matter.” Aradin shrugged. “My people almost killed yours anyhow, and they would have, if you went and finished the job. But nobody died, and things are working fine. So leave it be.”

“I will,” Tali said.

“Don't you make that one a promise, too.”

“I won't. What's the lecture for?”

“It ain't a lecture. You was acting real concerned, that's all. You're bad enough as it is. I don't need to hear you blabbing on about your own guilt the whole way to the city.” His tone and attitude were dismissive, but Tali caught something strange in his pitch. He acted casual, but it was just an act.

She ventured to ask, “Are you concerned about me?”

Aradin gave her a wary look, untrusting of the question. “‘Bout your big mission, more like. Don't tie yourself in knots about every little thing, or you won't get it done.”

“I don't think I need the advice.”

“Then don't take it.”

Tali searched his face, trying to gauge his tone, but he didn't seem offended. She gave a short chuckle. “Right. Simple as that.”

“There you go.”

“Maybe you should learn to pay less attention to what I say, too. It's only fair. Then you can get off my back about my ‘righteousness.’”

Aradin scoffed. “No, you mean the batshit things you say. If I don’t listen close, I won’t see the next move coming.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“‘Course not.” He gave her a half-smile. “Can’t ever trust someone as earnest and stupid as you.”

“Look who’s talking.” Tali matched his smile. “You know something?”

“What?”

“You’re ordinary. Which is a good thing,” she hastened to add when a look of displeasure crossed his face. “It’s a refreshing thing. It’s easy to get a little sick of aliens, devils, secret missions, and archmages. Despite the circumstances under which we met again, it was good to spend a day with normal people with sensible goals.”

“I ain’t ordinary,” Aradin protested. “You see every old farmer and butcher leading an adventuring group?”

“I suppose not,” Tali admitted. “And you’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

He stood back on his heels, and the suspicious look returned to his eyes. “You buttering me up for something?”

“No, I mean it. You look after your own. You’re doing what you can for who you can, and that’s the most that can be asked of anyone.”

His eyes narrowed further. “You changed your mind right quick. Again.”

“I know. Would you prefer if I didn’t? You weren’t fond of my last judgment.”

“Why’s there gotta be a judgment?”

“We’re all judged, sooner or later. I was taught that mortal judgment can save a lot of pain in the afterlife.” Tali sighed. “But I suppose it doesn’t do much good coming from me, does it?”

“Might not be so bad, if you think nice things.”

“Then give me more to think nice things about. I do prefer nice thoughts, no matter how I come across. And if they’re nice enough….” She shook her head. “I really am considering it. Depending on how things look when the current danger has passed, I might take you up on your offer.”

Aradin perked up. “Yeah? And how do things have to look for that?”

“We have to both be alive, for one.”

“And for two?”

“You once said you have no honor, but honor is my demand. As long as the work serves my oath–-or at the very least doesn't violate it-–I can do it.”

“Well.” His expression turned to faint distaste. “That’s a high price. I ain’t in the habit of monster-hunting like you. And the market for ‘honorable’ sellswords is pretty packed.”

“If you hire someone who helped destroy the cult of an upstart god, that might draw some attention. It could make up for some of the dirty work you lose out on.”

Aradin rolled his eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You ain’t any kind of famous.”

Behind him, a line of armed and armored people filed out of the inn and made their way towards the bridge. Tali’s party was ready to go, so it was time for her to join them. Tali met Gale’s eye and held up a finger. She’d be just one moment.

Aradin glanced at the assembled group. “There’s your un-ordinary folks,” he said dryly.

“Alas, there they are.” Tali smiled and shrugged. “We’ll be as swift as we can. We shouldn’t be gone longer than a few days, depending on what we find.”

“Take your time. This place still has a few bottles of Baldur’s grape.”

“Don’t drink yourself into a stupor. Even Last Light isn’t entirely safe. Speaking of which….” Tali pulled a pouch from her belt. She’d paid Dammon using party funds, but she had some money of her own which she’d saved over her years alone in case of an emergency. She held it out.

Aradin took it and hefted it, raising an eyebrow at the weight. He loosened the drawstring and peered inside, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Now I know you’re buttering me up!” he exclaimed.

“If the shadows or the Absolute’s forces break through the dome and you have to run, run. Money won’t protect you, but it might cover food and something in the way of armor. It’s what I can offer.”

“Food?” He poured an assortment of coins into his hand, mostly silver and electrum. “You could get a bloody warhorse with this!”

“Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. I won’t.” Aradin dumped the coins back into the pack and pulled it shut. He tossed it in the air and caught it, grinning. “If I need a horse, you can just piss off that pixie again.”

“I’d have to say something really vile, or I wouldn’t be a horse for long.” Tali flexed her shoulders. “I’m strong enough as I am, I probably don’t need the polymorph. If you ever want a ride, just ask nicely.”

He gave her an apprehensive look, as though he didn’t understand what she’d said and suspected a displeasing meaning. She frowned, baffled, and a mortifying realization washed over her.

“Oh! That sounded–-” Her face grew warm. “I just meant I could carry you, if you-–”

“Now’s a good time to stop talking, Points.”

“Of course. It was a bad joke. Terrible.” She backed away, wagging a finger. “You… you stay safe. Keep that money close!”

If Aradin had anything else to say, Tali left too quickly to hear it. Dipping her head to hide her shame, she scampered away and joined her party on the bridge. Karlach, Wyll, and Gale greeted her with smiles, Lae’zel tapped her foot impatiently, and Shadowheart gave her a sly look.

“What?” Tali demanded.

“Nothing,” the cleric replied. “Are you ready to go?”

Tali could tell it wasn’t nothing. Shadowheart was perceptive; she had probably heard Tali’s embarrassing slip-up. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t say anything, then neither would Tali.

“Yes,” Tali said. “Let’s be off.”

As they crossed the bridge and emerged back out into the deathly chill of the shadow-cursed lands, Tali kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead. She didn’t dare glance back at the inn; if she did, she’d risk looking at Aradin again. Even with her attention set on the woods, she could feel his eyes on her back until the shadows enveloped her once more.

Chapter Text

As she awaited the return of Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel, Tali paced to and fro. Dry twigs snapped beneath her heavy boots, and her tail twitched restlessly. She had quickly grown re-accustomed to the background hum of the tadpoles, although she didn’t remember feeling this edgy the last time she’d traveled with her fellow infected. This agitation must not have stemmed from the parasites or from any fear of the dark and its mysterious horrors, but from somewhere within, something she couldn’t identify or dispel.

“How long has it been?” she muttered impatiently.

Gale was sitting on the floor with his back against his pack and his eyes on the branches swaying overhead. They’d stopped for the night once since leaving Last Light, and the wizard had been sluggish and stiff since breaking camp. “A little more than an hour, I reckon.”

“That’s got to be enough time to infiltrate an evil cult and find their leader’s deepest secrets, right?” Karlach said with a huff. She seemed nearly as restless as Tali, but she let it out by dancing and humming to herself, rather than by stomping around grumpily.

“What if they were found out?” Tali wondered aloud.

“If a fight were to break out, we’d hear the eyes screaming from here,” Gale said. “Never fear, my friend. I’m sure everything is going according to plan. Well. Someone’s plan.”

“Wyll’s, if we’re lucky,” Karlach muttered. “Gods, I want to go in! Once we have Ketheric’s secret we can fight them all. Right?”

“Eventually,” Tali said. “Once we have a lead, we’ll likely be on our way back to the inn to form a plan.”

“But we just formed a plan,” Karlach complained. “We spent all morning forming plans.”

“We’re up against a superior force, one we don’t understand very well. As long as they give us the time, we’ll plan everything we can.” Tali gave the other tiefling a sympathetic look. “I’m with you, though. I’d rather walk in right now and cut the bastards to pieces.”

“Yeah.” Karlach kicked a rock, and it skittered into the darkness, sending strange, sharp echoes back.

Tali observed her for a moment. The two of them seemed of a similar age, though Karlach had many more scars. They were both women of action and conviction, and they shared a protective instinct towards others. In another life–-one where Tali wasn’t a paladin and Karlach had a heart–-they might have become like sisters.

And why not this one? Tali thought.

“Karlach,” she said. “You said you’re from the Gate, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Lived there my whole life, until that smug bastard sent me to Avernus. Nice place. Except for the smug bastards.”

“It’s my next stop after we destroy the cult,” Tali continued. “Are there any places I should check out while I’m there?”

Karlach grinned. “Oh, Hells, yeah. Hey, I could come with you! Those mercs of yours would be extra safe with two tiefling mamas keeping an eye on them.”

“We’ll see if they’ll have you.”

“And then I can show you the best spots.” Doubt flickered across Karlach’s face. “It’s been a long while, though. I don’t know if everywhere is still there, or if any of it is still the same. But we can find out together. Eh, soldier?”

“That should work.”

“I can make a recommendation, if you’d like,” Gale said with a broad smile. “Sorcerous Sundries, the finest book collection this side of Candlekeep. I can’t say I’m fond of the tower’s keeper, but his collection of tomes and artifacts is unparalleled within Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’ll pass,” Karlach said. “I might set it on fire.”

“I’m at least intrigued,” Tali said. “What’s wrong with the keeper?”

Gale’s face twisted in distaste as though he’d bitten an unripe orange. “He’s a wizard of… moderate ambition. By which, of course, I mean immense ambition, with hubris to match.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not that I can judge. We all know I’ve done far worse than he could ever dream of.”

Tali frowned at him; she didn’t know what to say. She had become increasingly unconvinced that the act by which he’d gained his orb was a sin, no matter how insistently he characterized it as such. What he'd done had been for the love of his goddess. If even that could be a sin, was there any such thing as righteousness? Thinking about it made her uneasy, so she tried not to.

“Lofty as his aspirations are, though,” Gale continued, “Lorroakan's mind always seemed, well… narrow. Especially for a man in his position and with his power. And he strikes me as something of a… what did you say, Karlach? Smug bastard?”

Karlach grunted. “Then I definitely won’t be going to his bookshop.”

Tali tapped her foot. Lorroakan. He didn’t sound familiar. But she knew of a wizard in Baldur’s Gate, didn’t she? She’d heard of one while she was back at the Emerald Grove, from one of the tieflings or maybe the mercenaries. It hadn’t seemed important at the time, so it had gotten the same treatment as much of what she’d learned in those first days after the crash: she hadn’t bothered remembering it.

Gale sighed, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ll wager he has a teleportation circle. I might supplicate him for its usage if–-” He stopped and shook his head. “No…. What am I saying? If I end up in Baldur’s Gate, something will have gone terribly wrong.”

Karlach gave him a worried look. “How’s that?”

“It would mean I failed to destroy the Absolute at Moonrise,” Gale said, “which in turn would mean either that I shirked my duty, or that the Absolute eluded us. Neither would be favorable.”

Both tieflings became uncomfortable. Tali turned away to hide her distaste. She couldn’t blame Gale; she’d die anywhere in any manner and for any cause if Tyr commanded it. But, as Aradin had made clear, she wasn’t like everyone else. Unlike her, Gale didn’t have a divine oath binding him to do a god’s bidding. In fact, Mystra had already cast him from her grace. Additionally, while Tali knew the god of justice could be trusted completely, she worried that the same couldn't be said of Mystra, especially since she was an ex-lover, not just a goddess.

Tali wrinkled her nose. She wouldn’t want to make love to any god, least of all her god. Like any sensible person, she’d stick with mortals.

“I hope you both enjoy the Gate,” Gale said in a comforting tone. “Don't let me bring your spirits down.”

“It’s alright,” Karlach said glumly. She kicked another rock. “Just seems wrong that you have to die.”

“You’ve been insisting on letting your engine eat you up,” Tali pointed out. Her heart ached for both of them, but no matter her discomfort, she understood. “That’s what you want. If this sacrifice is what Gale wants to do with the unfair situation he’s been given, we should respect it.”

She made eye contact with Gale, and he nodded in appreciation. She liked him, and she liked Karlach, but perhaps her first instinct had been correct. This wasn't the time for things to change. It wasn’t the time to find friends. It was time to lose people again.

The taps of feet on stone and the rustling of legs wading through bushes shook her from her dark thoughts. She held her halberd at the ready in anticipation of an Absolutist patrol. Karlach unslung her axe and stood next to her, and behind them, Gale scrambled to his feet and opened his component pouch.

To Tali’s relief, the figures that emerged from the darkness were not Absolutists but long-awaited allies. Wyll led the way with a struggling torch held out before him. Lae’zel and Shadowheart stayed at the light’s edge, keeping watchful eyes on the surrounding shadows.

Tali walked to meet them. Her divine sense rang out its alarm again: DEVIL DEVIL DEVIL DEVIL DEVIL. She did her best to ignore it.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Exactly what we were looking for,” Wyll said brightly, “I think.”

“Ketheric’s right hand is a necromancer named Balthazar,” Shadowheart said. “He has access to an artifact that seems extremely important to our great general.” She spat the last words out with extreme distaste.

“The Nightsong,” Lae’zel added.

Tali’s eyes widened, and her jaw went slack. “The Nightsong?”

Lae’zel stepped forward, holding out a handful of papers. “I broke into this necromancer’s laboratory. I cannot understand this arcane nonsense, but he has notes on its usage.”

Gale ran up and snatched the papers from her grasp. “Really? Let me take a look.”

While he read, Tali asked Wyll, “Did you find any clues about the nature of the… the pit?”

Wyll grimaced. “I may have. I was making rather pleasant conversation with one of the ogres there, who described ‘meat sounds’ in the walls. Later I passed through a dining room of some sort, and there it was: some sort of fleshy growth exposed by an opening in the stonework.”

“Gods have mercy,” Tali breathed. “It wasn’t just the pit, that thing is in the entire tower.”

Karlach shuddered. “It’s alive?”

Wyll and Shadowheart nodded.

“Anything living can die,” Lae’zel said. A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wyll said, setting a hand on her shoulder. “If we’re unlucky, that flesh could be part of an immense creature. We’d best not start stabbing until we know for sure.”

“Whatever it is,” Shadowheart said, “that turncoat Ketheric is still the cult’s leader, as far as we know. If we can make him vulnerable, we can extract the rest of the information we need from him.”

Tali knew what she was getting at. The Sharran had made sly allusions to torture before, to Tali’s discomfort. Although such methods ordinarily appalled her, she could make an exception for an evil undead general. She would leave that in Shadowheart’s hands if the time came.

“A-ha! This is it!” Gale returned to the conversation, holding up the papers in triumph. His face glowed with the kind of pure joy Tali had come to associate with a wizard at work. “Balthazar is using the Nightsong as a component in a soul cage. These notes hold few specifics, but the runes in these diagrams are unmistakable. It’s powerful necromantic magic. We just found the key to Ketheric’s immortality!”

Karlach pumped her fist. “Aces!”

“The Nightsong must be powerful,” Tali remarked. Her brows furrowed in concern. “What is it?”

Gale shuffled through the pages again and shook his head. “I cannot tell. An artifact.”

“Then we’ll have to find out for ourselves.” Tali turned back to Wyll. “Do you know where the necromancer went?”

The warlock nodded. “The other cultists said he’s gone to a mausoleum north of here, on the other side of Reithwin.”

“Then that’s where we go.” Tali spun around and took a step, only to realize she didn’t know which way was north. She looked sheepishly at her party members. “Is it too much to ask if anyone has a map?”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “We don’t need one. Just walk away from the tower, and you’ll find the town eventually.”

“Mama K will light the way!” Karlach bounded ahead.

With a chuckle, Wyll followed her and held out the torch. “If you mean to light the way, you might want light.”

Gale and Lae’zel went next, clinging to the torchlight, and Shadowheart and Tali brought up the rear. Thanks to the light, the pixie’s blessing, and the martial and magical might the group had at their fingertips, no shadows dared accost them.

They moved with haste and purpose, but it wasn’t enough for Tali. Her edgy feeling lingered, urging her to greater speed. Ordinarily she would have blamed the divine fire, but it was calm at the moment, patiently awaiting its next prey. That strange something hiding deeper within her was to blame. Perhaps it was her new promise to protect the mercenaries. If it was, the new, second fire would not rest until she’d completed that task, and while she wandered around out here, her charges went neglected. Yes, that had to be it. She’d feel better when she got back.

At least, she hoped so. Reflecting on her parting words to Aradin, she considered that she might feel significantly worse upon her return, if she had to offer some sort of explanation or justification for her verbal stumble. Just ask nicely. What had she been thinking?

More than one good reason for me to shut up, she thought. I won’t say anything if he doesn’t. I’ll hope he’s forgotten all about it.

Anxiety gripped her stomach. What if he remembered, and he wholly misinterpreted it and thought she was flirting? Would that disgust him? She hoped not. They currently seemed to get along relatively well.

The second fire tugged harder, pulling her onward. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t. She tried to push him out of her mind and swallowed her apprehension.

The road widened and branched, and the black forms of buildings loomed up out of the gloom to either side. They creaked when the wind touched them. The other noises Tali had come to expect from this region seemed subdued, indicating that malicious plants and beasts were probably in short supply here. On the other hand, the shadows brooded as deep as ever, and Tali had a sense of being watched. At times she thought she heard extra footsteps, and she hoped they were only the echoes of her party’s passing.

By the time they reached the center of town, Tali had subconsciously sped up enough to catch up to Gale. Shadowheart trotted up behind her and tugged her backward.

“You're watching our backs today,” the cleric reminded her. “You might find that a bit tricky all the way up here.”

With some reluctance, Tali fell back.

“I'm afraid I haven't been keeping up with my daily runs,” Gale said good-naturedly. “I can't quite manage that pace.”

“Most of us couldn’t.” Shadowheart threw Tali a sly look like the one she’d given before they set out. “What’s the hurry?”

Wyll looked over his shoulder to flash them both a grin. “Does it need to be asked? She has someone eagerly awaiting her safe return.”

The corners of Tali's mouth started downward, threatening a frown. Was he implying something?

“Oh, that's right,” Shadowheart said sarcastically, as if she already knew, too–-but knew what? She patted Tali's shoulder. “We'll get you back to your pet adventurer soon enough.”

Tali shook her off. “What are you on about?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She'd opened a door she would rather keep shut.

“Why, your damsel in the tower!” Wyll said. He walked backwards for a few steps so he could gesture dramatically for emphasis. “The lowly mercenary you risked life and limb for, whom you so daringly rescued from the very belly of the beast!”

As he spun back around to keep walking, Karlach turned back with wide eyes. “Soldier! Why didn’t you tell me-–”

“Because Wyll’s talking out of his ass,” Tali said, irritated.

“Really?” Wyll said. “Because a little wriggler in my head told me….”

A cold shock ran through Tali, and she was so taken aback she almost stopped in her tracks. She sped up again to keep pace. “You're using the tadpole? Reading my mind?”

“We don't need to,” Shadowheart said. “You're terribly preoccupied. Pining, even. We'd better find this necromancer and hurry back to Last Light before you waste away.”

Tali scowled. “I'm not pining.”

To her dismay, Gale joined in. “There's no shame in it, Tali.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of in the first place! I'm not pining. You have invented this–this strange delusion. I made a promise to keep the adventurers safe, and my oath and honor demand that I carry it out. I can't do that while I'm away.”

Shadowheart smirked. “Oh, of course. And the flushed cheeks and wagging tail? An unpaid guard job is that exciting, is it?”

Tali opened her mouth to protest, but Karlach spoke first.

“That's right!” The big woman turned to Shadowheart with a look of realization, then giggled at Tali. “You looked just like Scratch when he has a good, meaty bone.”

“When?” Tali demanded.

“When he was seeing you off. Not Scratch, I mean. The treasure hunter guy. What's his name, again? Beanie?”

“Beno,” Tali corrected. “Aradin Beno.” Her scowl twisted deeper. She hadn't noticed her tail wagging when she'd said goodbye. Surely they were making it up just to mock her.

Shadowheart gave an exaggerated sigh. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Indeed,” Lae’zel said in what might have been the first time she’d agreed with Shadowheart. “Have you the appetite of a hatchling, Retaliation? Such a meager morsel isn’t worth your time and would fail to satisfy. He could not stand against you even when his life depended on it. He cannot possibly endure your embrace.”

Karlach pursed her lips and glanced at Tali. “Hey, soldier, I might have heard wrong, but I think she’s saying that sleeping with you would be worse than death.”

Tali glowered.

“He’s not so bad,” Gale said thoughtfully. “You could certainly do worse.”

Wyll shrugged. “Some of us have.”

“Touche.”

“Oh. I wasn’t referring to you.”

Tali silently prayed they’d carry on their own conversation and leave her out of it. She was all too eager to slink back to the rear; the second fire which had once urged her onwards was now replaced with a different discomfort, a sense of upset she couldn’t justify.

The group shambled to a brief halt as Karlach stopped, thrust the torch back into Wyll’s hands, and walked to the back. “Hey, Shad,” she said, nodding to Shadowheart. “Take my spot. You’ve got better eyes, and it’s bloody dark up there.”

Shadowheart gave her a disapproving look. “Don’t call me that again.”

“Shadowheart.” Karlach shrugged. “Sorry.”

Per her suggestion, Shadowheart made her way to the front of the group, and the journey resumed. Karlach leaned in close and threw an arm over Tali’s shoulders. Tali groaned inwardly, bracing herself for whatever was coming.

“It’s just teasing, soldier,” Karlach said softly. She gave the smaller tiefling a playful shake, rattling her in her armor. “None of us judge you.”

“There’s nothing to judge,” Tali said in a taut whisper.

Karlach beamed. “Yeah! Exactly!” She gave Tali a constricting side-hug.

Restricted by the beefy arm squeezing her, Tali staggered over a protruding root, and Karlach released her with an apologetic wince. For a moment Tali dared to hope that was the end of the conversation, but of course it wasn’t.

“Can I know the rest of the story?” Karlach said.

“What story?”

“About the treasure hunter guy. Aradin?”

Tali nodded.

Karlach snapped her fingers. “Got it in one.” She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, what don’t I know yet? What turned ‘I’m gonna kill you’ into ‘I’m gonna ride you if you ask nicely’?”

“That is not what I said.”

“Oh, right. It was ‘you’re gonna ride me.’”

“I said no such thing! It was just a joke that came out wrong. Gods. Serves me right for acting friendly for once.” Tali shook her head. “I don’t want to take away your entertainment, but I’m not denying it because I’m embarrassed or ashamed. I’m denying it because it’s just not true.”

Karlach leaned back a moment, frowning, before she crept in close once more. “Not even a little bit?”

Tali sighed. “You want a story? It’s not the one you’re looking for, but there is one I can tell you.”

The bigger tiefling perked up, attentive. “I’m all ears, whatever you need to say.”

“I’ve been in love before. A few times. As many as it took for me to learn my lesson.”

“Aw, no, Tali-–”

Tali held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear any sort of comfort. The last boy I… dallied with… wasn’t unlike Aradin, I suppose, in that he was a loudmouth of a human looking for some exciting way to find his fortune. But he was a farmhand with no weapon training and nothing to back up the things he said. I passed through his village a few times-–the people there were generous and reliable, and there was a Tyrran monastery nearby-–so I was around long enough to carry on something like a relationship. I rarely got that chance.”

Around her, the rest of her companions slowed down to hear her story. Even Lae’zel eyed her with open intrigue. Tali briefly considered clamming up, but she had already begun. Besides, the tale was sure to silence their folly. She’d make it quick.

“I offered to train him so he could join me,” she continued. “He’d get the adventure he always wanted, and I wouldn’t be alone. I used my meager savings to buy him his first sword, and he learned pretty well. For the first time in years, I had an idea of the future. All I could think about before that was the next hunt, the next monster that would rear its head for me to cut off, but this man gave me something to actually hope for.

“I never stayed in Womford-–that was the village–-for long. One day, I caught wind of strangers harassing travelers in the hills, and I set out on another hunt. We argued the morning I left. He thought he was ready, but I said he wasn’t. He was… upset, to put it lightly.” Tali sighed and watched the passing vacant windows of Reithwin. “But eventually he listened, and he stayed behind. I was gone for barely two tendays. When I came back, I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

Bitter sympathy twisted Gale’s face. “He left, after all. He meant to prove himself.”

Tali winced. “More than that. He meant to do it all without me. I was worried for him, and I was right to be. I was right. He wasn’t ready.” A tremor entered her voice, and she took a breath to steady herself. “Before I went looking for him, a young woman from the village stopped me. I’d met her before, but I didn’t know her well. She yelled at me for putting the idea of adventure in his head and leaving him to chase it on his own.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Wyll said gently.

Anger flared in Tali’s heart, mortal and personal. “I know that,” she snapped. “I knew it then, too. I was worried about him, but more than that, I was furious. He’d gone and thrown himself into danger completely unprepared, and for what? He had nothing to prove to me. He was just hurt and impatient, and he let that make him foolish.

“I spent days searching for him. After some point, it started feeling irresponsible, like I was wasting time. I’d had a few lovers before him. They always left. Plenty of people are eager enough to bed a tiefling but don’t care to keep one. It was always hurtful, but I always got over it. I should have been able to let him go, too.” Tali shrugged helplessly. “But he was special. He made me want things and believe I could actually have them. I kept looking.

“When I finally found him, he was dead. Highwaymen got him and left him naked and bloody on the side of the road. So I found those highwaymen, avenged that poor man, and took back what they’d stolen.” She snatched the air, and her hand closed into a trembling fist around nothing. Her face fell. “There was a paper in his coin pouch. It….”

For a moment, silence reigned as Tali nearly choked on fury, an old fury she should have grown tired of long ago. She forced it back down, but she didn’t banish it; without the anger, she’d be left only with grief and agony. Those were far worse.

“It was his oath, in a sense,” she said through clenched teeth. “A letter to him from someone else, declaring her love and commitment. Apparently they had a plan, my village boy and his village girl. He was going to find that gold he’d imagined up, no matter what it took, and he and his real love would live like royalty. Gods. All the things I thought we were dreaming together, and the entire time it was someone else’s dream. I was just their stepping-stone.”

A red hand appeared in the corner of Tali’s eye, threatening to land a comforting grip on her shoulder. She recoiled from it. Karlach withdrew, looking concerned and wounded.

“There was always something that came before me,” Tali muttered. “After that, I dedicated myself as wholly as I could to the tenets of my oath. After the first few men who ‘loved’ me and left me behind, I’d held out some kind of hope. But that last one finally broke me out of the delusion. I couldn’t expect anything from the people I met and helped–-no reward, no gratitude, no… no affection. Trying to get anything for myself would be selfish, and it’d only bring more loss and disappointment. I was sick of losing people. I decided I’d stay an outsider.”

“If I may,” Wyll said slowly, “I think you’re being too harsh to yourself.”

“Not at all.” Tali recomposed herself, bringing evenness and calm back into her voice. “Love was too harsh. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again, and I always keep my promises.”

“But we love you, Tali,” Karlach said. “You’re not an outsider with us.”

“Of course I am.” Tali looked at each of her companions in turn. “All of you have shared secrets and stories aplenty. That story is the first thing I’ve said about myself.”

“Friendship isn’t measured in memories shared,” Shadowheart called from the front of the pack, “nor in information exchanged. We don’t need to know every detail of your life to know you.”

“If you found our japes hurtful earlier, I’m truly sorry,” Wyll said. “It was all in good humor and not without respect. That you remembered the mercenaries and sought them out through unknown depths and dangers speaks very well of you. That loyalty is an admirable quality.”

“I hold no personal loyalty to them,” Tali said. “I owed Aradin.”

“Is humility any less admirable than loyalty?” Gale said. “Your determination to right a wrong carried you and four exhausted, unarmored people through an oubliette, a frigid river, and the shadow curse. If you ask me, from whence you derive your strength is much less important than what you do with it.”

Tali looked away, uncomfortable. “I don’t need reassurances, and I don’t want compliments. I want to do my job–-all my jobs–-and I want to do them well. I just didn’t want any strange rumors complicating the rest of my repayment to Aradin.”

Gale smiled. “I, for one, shall spread no such rumors. You have my word.”

“And you don’t need to justify yourself to us,” Shadowheart said, “certainly not to me. If I’m wrong again, it won’t take a tale of personal tragedy to correct me. Don’t feel like you have to share things you’re not comfortable sharing.”

Too late, Tali thought bitterly. But she wasn’t wholly bitter. A part of her liked letting the memory out. A part of her liked being open.

“On that note,” Wyll added, “thank you for sharing. Gods know we didn’t pick each other”--He and Karlach shared a humorous smile-–“but we are a team. If you ever have something you want to say, you can say it.”

Karlach nodded. “Sorry again, soldier. I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything.”

Tali sighed. “I know. It was just an honest misreading.”

“And it wasn’t just for shits, you know. I was happy for you. Or for what I thought you had going on. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

For a quiet moment, Tali studied Karlach’s face. The taller tiefling had a furrowed brow and deep, apologetic eyes. She looked truly disappointed.

“I’m not hurt,” Tali said, trying to reassure her. “You’re right that there would be no shame in it if I really did have a romantic interest. It’s just that I don’t.”

Karlach nodded.

“Good,” Lae’zel hissed, earning a few disapproving looks.

The group continued in silence. A sense of acceptance and understanding had fallen over them, but it was not a comfortable acceptance, at least not for Tali. Her agitation had increased at the recollection of the Womford farmhand and his deception. Fresh despair gnawed at her mind, her heart, her belly, and she could no longer tell the divine fury from the rest of it. She hadn’t given it much thought in a long time. She hadn’t expected the wound would still be so raw.

It wasn’t the same as the anger she remembered, though. It was hungrier. She had felt wounded, betrayed, and bereaved at the time, but years had passed, and now the rage wanted something–-something that was not justice, not retribution or restitution. The appetite seemed familiar, but she could not place it.

I hope we find that necromancer soon, she thought. It will be good to hit something.

The broken road took a winding course beneath a grotesquely overgrown tree. The trunk shuddered overhead, a great gray mass of twisted bark and pulsing sacs, and Tali eyed it warily as she passed. From there, the road climbed a short rise, and a side path led to a crude graveyard marked by hastily constructed cairns and haphazard wooden grave markers. Ahead, a cliff overlooking the town loomed over ornate double-doors set into the stone. A crack ran down the middle of the doors where something large had smashed through. A flickering glow emanated from within.

Shadowheart froze, and the rest of the party assembled around her. Tali gave the cleric a questioning look.

“This is it,” Shadowheart said with wonder. “This is the mausoleum. Do you feel that, Tali?”

Tali looked around, but she noticed nothing more than the passing of a cool breeze. She was about to say as much, but she stopped.

She did feel it. At first, her distracted divine sense failed to notice it, but after a moment of attention, it seemed plain as day. She was standing on desecrated ground.

“I feel Lady Shar’s presence,” Shadowheart murmured.

“I feel something worse,” Tali said. She looked around. Old bones shone white through the soil.

“I feel that, too,” Shadowheart said. “It must be the necromancer. He has defiled something sacred.”

“I’m sure it’s not his first time,” Wyll said wryly. He drew a slender sword.

Following Wyll’s example, Karlach readied her axe. She hopped from one foot to the other in excitement. “We killing the bastard?”

“Once we find him,” Gale said.

“Move with caution,” Lae’zel hissed. She held up a crossbow and ran a scrutinizing eye over it. “His creatures could be watching. We cannot let mere minions wear us down before we find their master.”

Tali twirled her halberd. “They won’t get the chance.”

Her divine fury, whetted by the recollection of old anger, sparked and danced in the back of her mind. With an eager, battle-hungry smile twitching on her lips, she passed through the jagged maw of the Thorm Mausoleum. Her allies followed close behind.

Chapter Text

As the last of the Justiciar skeletons fell to pieces of bone and ancient armor, the grinding of stone against stone shook the floor. For a moment Tali looked around for more umbral tremors, expecting yet another round of undead assault, but no new orbs appeared. She turned around.

Beyond the old Sharran altar, an immense circular door split open and slid into the walls on either side. The newly unveiled room glowed with the same bruised purple light that filled the rest of the mausoleum complex, and its vaulted ceiling soared almost as high as that of the chapel Tali currently stood in. Grotesquely twisted and enlarged figures shambled within, with claws for hands and lipless, gumless mouths-–ghouls. Tali backed away and readied her halberd once more, but the ghouls were not even looking at her. They seemed aimless rather than hostile.

“Finally, something with meat on it,” Karlach said with a casual laugh. The fires of her barbarian rage still swept along the edges of her form, and as she stepped up next to the altar, Tali could feel the heat radiating from her.

“Perhaps too much meat,” Gale murmured, “at least for my liking.” His eyes searched the room beyond.

Tali followed his gaze, wondering what he was referring to. At first she thought it was some natural rock formation, a great lumpy thing that reached from the floor nearly to the ceiling. Then, to her alarm and disgust, it moved, and she realized she was looking at a fleshy construction at least twice the height of an ordinary man.

She listened closely to her divine sense. The low pulse of Wyll’s fiendish presence walked up beside her, and ahead roamed several undead. The large creature, however, was something else. Her sense didn’t detect it at all. She frowned.

A dark voice rang out. “You waste time. Come.”

Tali’s eyes fell on a hooded figure in the center of the next room. He stood behind a stone table, dancing his fingers over a heap of bloody bones. A black robe shrouded his head and arms, but he’d left it open at the front, revealing a chest crisscrossed with bleeding lines. He raised his head, revealing a fleshy face with hard, deep-set eyes. A silver pendant bearing the symbol of the Absolute dangled from his neck.

The hooded man raised a hand and beckoned with a slick, red finger. “Come.”

“I think we found our necromancer,” Shadowheart whispered.

Nodding absentmindedly, Tali rounded the altar and approached the open doorway. When the dark orbs had appeared in the main chamber, and Justiciar skeletons poured out of them, she had felt surrounded by darkness, but that darkness had been empty. Now she was surrounded by evil–-an oppressive, pungent evil that assaulted all her senses.

“You are a brash, imprudent, contemptible thing,” the hooded man spat. “Have you no regard for my efforts?”

“Balthazar, I presume,” Tali said. “Why is a necromancer hiding from skeletons?”

“Hiding! Bah!” The necromancer’s mouth twisted, and he held out his hands. “My delicate touch is better suited to my work, just as your thick, thuggish body is suited to yours. Those skeletal minions were lookouts and scouts. I must craft them anew to continue controlling the temple.”

Shadowheart stepped past Tali. “You don’t control it, even now. This is the house of Lady Shar, and you are trespassing.”

Balthazar gave her a disgusted look. “A Sharran? General Thorm must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.” He sighed. “Still, you are not entirely unpromising specimens. Turning on my creatures during the fight was an act of unparalleled stupidity, but I have enough mental capacity for all of us. There are uses for brutes.”

“What are you talking about?” Tali said.

“Have you forgotten your orders already, True Soul?”

“Not at all,” Wyll butted in. “We understand our orders quite well, Balthazar. You seem a little confused, yourself. We are not merely dumb muscle. Z’rell sent us to help you recover an artifact.”

Balthazar’s fingers curled in displeasure. “She told you that much, did she?”

“The Nightsong,” Gale added. “Very important to the general, yes?”

Wyll shot the wizard a warning look just as Balthazar turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“I see you went through my study,” the necromancer said coldly. “So the general sent me cockroaches–-hardly any brains to speak of, but remarkably durable. No matter.” He stepped away from his table.

Tali tightened her grip on her halberd. Shadowheart glared at the defiling necromancer. Karlach spun her axe in her hands. Wyll and Gale reached into their component pouches. Lae’zel was nowhere to be seen, and Tali wondered if she had taken one of Gale’s invisibility potions while the necromancer was distracted.

“First you survived nosing through my study,” Balthazar said. His voice gradually rose. “Now you’ve survived a scrap with the temple’s guardians and my scouts. Have you come to supplant me? Arrogant, presumptuous fools.”

“We make no such presumption,” Wyll said hastily. “We only obtained what information we needed in order to aid in the Nightsong’s retrieval for Ketheric.”

“That’s General Thorm to you,” Balthazar growled. One hand went to the silver pendant resting on his chest, and the other slipped into a pocket in his robe. “Of course you lack the proper respect and demeanor; he didn’t send you. Neither did Z’rell. You filthy things scuttled in on your own prerogative.”

“You’re damn right,” Tali said. With the “polite” conversation halfway into its grave, she entered a low, combat-ready stance.

Balthazar rolled his shoulders. “Very well. I am curious to see what quirk of your physiology allows you to indulge in such defiant pique despite the Absolute. Suffice to say, I’ll want your corpses in as few pieces as possible.”

“You’ll be too busy stitching yourself back together, if you’re lucky.” Tali leveled her halberd. The divine fury rose to new life; the Sharran skeletons in the chapel had been weak and fragile and failed to satisfy her appetite for destruction. The inner fire slavered at the thought of cutting down a powerful necromancer.

Balthazar pulled a small vial from his pocket. His thumb went to the cork. Tali charged.

Before she could reach him, the vial vanished from his hand. He turned aside, grasping at a shimmer in the air. “You dare?”

He didn’t have time to recover from his distraction. The point of the halberd sank deep into his side, and the force of Tali’s charge slammed him hip-first into the stone table. He staggered. Lae’zel flickered back into view as she darted away from him with the unopened vial clutched in her hand.

“Not bad,” Balthazar muttered, “for a womb-born.”

Tali pressed him harder into the table. He twisted aside, and the weapon wrenched from its place and tore through his flesh. Dark blood oozed from the massive, ragged wound and drenched his robe, but he didn’t even wince.

“Inveniam viam,” he said. Mist shrouded him, and he vanished, then reappeared on the other side of the table, out of Tali’s reach.

She started after him, but a ghoul reared up in her path. It snarled, spraying her with foul spittle and reeking breath. Tali jabbed the butt of her halberd into its knee. It stumbled but did not fall. It raised a clawed hand.

“Enough!” Shadowheart called.

From behind Tali came a pulse of light. As it washed over the ghoul, divine fire engulfed it, and it screeched. It shrank back and turned to flee. Around the room, most of the other ghouls did the same. Their sunken eyes stared at Shadowheart with animalistic terror.

Balthazar and the massive pillar of flesh remained unfazed. The necromancer raised a hand and formed arcane sigils in the air.

Tali leaped onto the table, but before she made it even a step further, the air around her turned into nearly opaque fog. With her next breath, her nose and throat burned, and she coughed. Another breath seared her lungs.

“Archers!” Wyll called from back near the doorway. “Archers behind us! The skeletons are standing back up!”

Tali couldn’t stop coughing. Her eyes watered. She stepped back, dropped down from the table, and sought her allies. If this fog was almost overwhelming for her and her divinely augmented constitution, Karlach and Shadowheart couldn’t have been faring well.

Her divine sense warned her something was amiss an instant before a ghoul hurled itself out of the obscuring cloud. She sidestepped, and its claws slid along her armor, ineffectual. She moved backward as she sliced with her halberd, and the swing cut a deep groove from its shoulder down its chest. It reared back, hissing in dismay.

As it reeled, a second figure approached from the side. Tali turned, but her divine sense found nothing of note. An instant later, Karlach appeared. The poisonous gas swirled around her as she drove her axe into the ghoul’s skull.

The impact sent it to the ground. Karlach hacked at it again, then once more for good measure, and it stopped moving.

“You’re a paladin,” she said as she straightened. Her voice was already strained from the noxious air. “Can you point these things out to me?”

“Not exactly,” Tali said between coughs. “I’m muddled. Where’s Shadowheart?”

“Right here.” The cleric’s voice came from right behind her. As Tali turned, Shadowheart raised a hand, and soothing light flowed from her to the paladin. “Te curo.”

The healing word alleviated some of the pain in Tali’s nose and throat. “Thank you. Stay close to me as long as we’re in this cloud. My aura will keep the worst of it at bay.”

Shadowheart nodded. Karlach shook herself out, and rising embers lit the cloud around her.

Balthazar’s booming voice pervaded the fog. “Did I hear correctly? A paladin? Tsk, tsk.”

Tali spun towards the voice, but the furthest object she could make out was the vague shape of the table. A bright green bolt lit up the cloud, and her eyes widened. She ducked but not in time.

The ray hit her in the chest, and a slimy, sickening feeling crept up her neck and down her torso. Her legs shook, her head spun, and her vision blurred.

Balthazar has to go, she thought. With him gone, ghouls and skeletons will be short work. She tried not to think of the huge flesh golem. It hadn’t attacked anyone yet, so hopefully they could leave it for later.

“Lae’zel!” she shouted. “KILL BALTHAZAR!”

She received no response, but she didn’t expect one from the quiet, efficient githyanki.

“Wyll and I are outside the cloud,” Gale called. “We’ll take care of the archers.”

“Good,” Karlach yelled back. “You keep doing that.”

Shadowheart raised her hands and healed the three women stuck in the cloud. “We need to move. The ghouls I turned will find their courage soon. Pick a direction, and we’ll walk together.”

Tali nodded weakly. She started to the right, skirting around the edge of the table, and Karlach and Shadowheart stayed close. The supernatural sickness pervading her body gradually faded, and her vision cleared.

True to Shadowheart’s prediction, another ghoul lurched out of the fog, reaching claws towards Tali. She swatted its hands aside with the haft of her halberd and swept its legs, trying to put it on its back for Karlach to finish off.

It tripped but caught itself against the stone table. Karlach and Shadowheart stepped forward, weapons drawn. Flesh tore where the axe blade found it, and bones crunched beneath the cleric’s mace.

Tali pierced its chest with her halberd and drove it to the floor. It went still. She jerked her weapon free.

“How can you tell when an undead’s dead again?” Karlach breathed.

“It’s not simple,” Balthazar replied with a booming laugh.

As if on cue, the ghoul started twitching again. It writhed and rolled onto its belly, then pushed itself onto its hands and knees.

Karlach kicked it in the side to keep it down. Another leaped on her from behind. Tali jabbed, trying to keep it away, but its claws found Karlach’s skin. Ragged gouges opened up along the big tiefling’s back. The ghoul recoiled with smoldering hands.

“Argh!” Karlach yelled, twisting away from it.

Shadowheart bashed the newcomer in the head, then uttered a healing word for Karlach. Her black bangs clung to the sweat on her forehead.

“Run!” Tali yelled. “Both of you! We have to fight them in the open!”

The ghoul on the floor grabbed at passing feet, but Shadowheart and Karlach both got past. The grasping undead hands turned on Tali and wrenched her ankle. She pulled herself free and turned to ward ghouls away from her allies. The cleric and barbarian stayed just close enough to feel Tali’s protective aura, and she hurried to keep pace with them.

At last they found clear air. Tali took a deep, cleansing breath, but it did little good; the atmosphere in the entire room was thick with decay.

Shadowheart sent one more wave of healing energy through the trio. “You have to take Balthazar, Tali,” she said. “We’ll hold off the ghouls.”

Tali nodded and looked around the room. Behind her roiled the cloud of noxious fumes. Ahead, a set of stone stairs rose to a nook at the back of the room. Balthazar stood near the top of the stairs, hands outstretched as he prepared another spell. Between him and Tali loomed the flesh golem.

It was occupied facing Lae’zel. The githyanki darted around its legs, leaving tiny cuts wherever she could reach. Its arms flailed as it tried to strike her with weapons built into its flesh, but caution and speed were in Lae’zel’s favor.

As long as the fleshy construct was focused on Lae’zel, Tali had a chance at its master. She sprinted past and took the stairs two at a time, doing her best to ignore her twisted foot. At the sight of her approach, Balthazar’s eyes widened.

A fresh ray of sickness flew from his fingers, but this time, Tali managed to dodge. The necromantic energy splattered uselessly on the stone floor behind her.

“What does it take to kill you?” Balthazar said, frustrated.

Tali didn’t answer. She thrusted with her halberd, but he backed away, just out of reach. She advanced, and he sidestepped. Everywhere he walked, he left smears of blood from the wound in his side.

Tali channeled the divine fire into her halberd and committed to a savage diagonal slash. Balthazar tried to step out of the weapon’s path again, but he was running out of room on the stairs. The halberd caught him and drew a new line across his chest.

Although the cut was shallow, the burst of radiance was particularly intense. Fueled by a hatred for monstrous creatures like this one, the white-gold fury seared Balthazar’s flesh, then flared a second time and burned deeper. For the first time, Balthazar seemed uncomfortable with an injury, but he did not cry out. He didn’t so much as catch his breath.

Tali pulled back and prepared for a second strike. She put as much of her divine fury as she could into this one, and golden light flashed brilliantly along the halberd’s blade. She swung again.

“Inveniam viam!”

Right before her weapon connected, Balthazar vanished again. The light left her weapon. The mind-fire flared, bright and angry, hungry for its prey.

She whipped around. Balthazar now stood at the bottom of the stairs, on the other side of the flesh golem. Tali started down the steps.

Balthazar sent yet another green ray at her. She tried to twist aside, but her ankle caught on the step behind her, and the ray caught her off-balance. This time the clammy, discomfiting sensation started at her arm. Her vision became fuzzy once more, and her stomach churned.

Although she felt like throwing up, she pushed through and hauled herself down the stairs. She intended to run past the golem again, even if it meant passing through the noxious cloud. Before she even reached the bottom, though, the duel between the construct and Lae’zel took a turn for the worse.

A ghoul ran out of the cloud on Lae’zel’s side, flailing madly, and it sliced the back of her neck. Lae’zel started to turn, but she froze. Her muscles seized in the grip of paralysis. Tali’s heart sank.

The flesh golem raised one arm, at the end of which bulged a spiked iron head. Tali tried to shake off the nauseating poison and urged herself to greater speed.

“Hey!” she shouted, trying to get the creature’s attention. It didn’t respond. The mace-arm scraped the ceiling.

Tali closed the gap and put all of her momentum into a thrust. The point of the halberd penetrated the golem’s side, but it didn’t sink as deep as she’d expected it to. The flesh golem turned its hollow gaze on her, apparently forgetting the paralyzed githyanki for now.

The second bout of sickness started to lift, but then a fourth ray snuck under the golem’s arm from where Balthazar lurked on the other side. Tali couldn’t pull her halberd loose in time to get out of the way. This time, however, the pervasive malaise didn’t take hold. This time the ray just hurt.

Gritting her teeth, Tali set her boot against the flesh golem’s meaty, undersized leg and jerked her weapon out. The point of the halberd left a divot in the creature’s side, but it did not bleed.

The creature brought down its mace-arm. Tali backed away quickly, and it slammed into the floor. The stone cracked and shook. She wondered if this racket might attract more of the temple’s guardians.

She didn’t have time to worry about that. She closed in again before the golem could return its attention to Lae’zel, who was still stuck. The ghoul had its teeth in the githyanki’s arm, but that would be far more manageable than a hit from an iron ball the size of a sheep.

Tali swept for the creature’s legs, willing divine energy to scorch its thick, resilient skin. The radiance of her oath-born magic burned as intended, but it still seemed meager against the size and constitution of the flesh golem.

Fighting this thing is useless, she thought. Balthazar has to die first.

She tried to skirt around the golem, but it brought down its other arm in her path. A hook large enough to snare a kraken pierced the ground, and she jumped back.

A chilling, foreboding sense crept up her spine. It came too late to warn her but early enough that she wasn’t surprised when bony arms wrapped around her. The snarling of a ghoul sounded in her ear, and it tried to drag her backwards.

Tali was stronger. She stood her ground and struck with the butt of her halberd. It met the ghoul’s knee, and it buckled, its grip weakening. She shook it off.

The flesh golem swung its mace-arm at her head. She ducked, and it slammed into a bookshelf.

Undeterred, the ghoul seized her legs. She kicked and managed to detach one hand, but the other clung tightly to her knee. She swung her halberd downwards to dislodge it, but it didn’t leave without digging into the chink in her armor. Claws met skin, and the heat of a fresh abrasion told her it had gotten through.

Cold fear shot through her. She willed and hoped and prayed that she would not be paralyzed, but to no avail. Her leg locked up, then her hips. She turned back to the flesh golem, eyes wide with terror, before her neck and face froze, too. She had a viselike grip on her halberd but nothing to do with it.

An unintelligible githyanki phrase gave her the small comfort of knowing that Lae’zel had broken free of her own bout of paralysis. Above her, the flesh golem’s undersized head turned, and it lunged with its hook-arm for Lae’zel. Stone cracked. She must have evaded again.

“No, Flesh!” Balthazar commanded. He sounded further away. Tali fumed. He was escaping.

The golem turned to its master questioningly. Lae’zel took the opening and leaped up to slice its chest, but the cut still was not deep enough to draw blood–-if the thing even had blood in the first place.

“Kill the paladin first,” Balthazar said. “Then play, little brother.”

Flesh turned to Tali once more. She remembered the terror of being paralyzed by the spectator in the Underdark. Then there had been only one monster, and Aradin had been close at hand with quick reflexes and a free arm to carry her to safety. Today she had no such blessing. She strained against the paralysis, but she couldn’t get her limbs to obey. The golem raised its mace-arm once more.

Tyr, she prayed. Torm, Ilmater, Helm, EVERYONE, please. I beg you. All of you.

The mace began to fall. Tali’s finger twitched. She had control again. Straining against her own seized muscles, she tried to throw herself out of the way.

She didn’t make it far enough.

The mace smashed her lower legs. She heard the crunching of her armor, felt the snapping of her bones. She screamed in pain, and for a moment her whole body went limp out of sheer shock.

The weight of the mace lifted, and she crawled away. She tried to pull herself onto her knees, but the pain of moving her legs was almost blinding. Her flattened ankles wouldn’t even bend. Gasping, shaking, she dragged herself forward with one arm while she readied her halberd with the other.

Dead faces flashed before her once more, and her fear crescendoed into abject panic. Her heart hammered, and she was all too aware that with each pulse, more blood gushed from her shattered legs. Her hand touched the wall. She was cornered.

They died so afraid, she thought. Cleric Lisha. Vin. Delryn. Sir Garth. High Priest Endro. Why did they look so afraid?

She set her jaw. When my friends see my corpse, they will not see fear.

She rolled onto her back and looked up at Flesh. She didn’t have the room or mobility to hold her halberd properly, so she set it against the base of the wall with its point trained on where the golem’s heart would be.

Shadowheart’s voice rang out, forming another healing spell.

“Timē!” Balthazar cut in.

Spectral hands rose from the floor and clutched Tali’s arms and what was left of her legs. A deathly chill deeper than the shadow curse took hold. When Shadowheart’s healing light reached her, it could only hover impotently around her, then evaporate as if it had never been there at all. Only the cold and the pain remained.

The throbbing agony of her legs was matched by the blood pounding in her ears. Tali clutched her halberd.

“Come on!” she screamed at the golem. Her throat was still raw from the poisonous gas.

“Retaliation!” Lae’zel cried. But there was nothing she could do. There was nothing any of them could do. Flesh stood between Tali and the rest of the room, and Balthazar’s bone-chilling spell prevented healing.

Flesh took a plodding step to stand over Tali. It raised its hook-arm high. Tali eyed it and adjusted her halberd.

“Ardē,” she said. Fire–-real, hot, mortal fire–-extended from her hand up the haft of her halberd. It surrounded the head, and Flesh recoiled from the warmth.

“Don’t hesitate!” Balthazar commanded. “Kill her!”

Flesh obeyed. It swung the hook downward. Tali kept her eyes on its shoulder. As it leaned down to kill her, she tipped her halberd forward. The golem’s own weight drove the halberd deep into its underarm, and fire spread from the wound. It gave a terrible, unnatural shriek.

But the great iron hook was already in motion. Tali watched it with a sense of strange, cold clarity and refused to close her eyes.

Die? she thought. Am I dying now? The second fire surged in her heart, but it had no more power to save her than the divine fury did. Still, she indulged it, and she thought of the mercenaries one more time. No, that was wrong; she was really only thinking of Aradin. She sent him a silent apology in case she didn't make it back. For the first time, she might fail to keep a promise.

Her companions’ laughter from not an hour earlier rang in her mind, stinging her with guilt. She'd lied to them, hadn’t she?

The hook punctured Tali’s breastplate, broke her sternum, and crushed her heart.

Chapter Text

“Rise.”

Tali’s eyes opened, but not by her will; some unbidden power pried her eyelids apart and pushed breath into her lungs. She exhaled shakily, expecting pain… but finding none.

Above her, tent canvas drooped from its wooden supports, dimly lit by an unseen flame. All around her were muffled noises: shuffling feet, rustling cloth, nervous voices, crackling parchment. The air smelled of grass, wet stone, and a faint whiff of smoke. Although she felt quite comfortable overall, Tali was uncertain about the extent of her injuries. She held still.

A face appeared above her: Karlach.

“Oh my gods,” the red tiefling sobbed. A tear welled up in her eye, but she wiped it away before it could fall onto Tali. “It worked! Soldier, you’re back!”

Confused, Tali opened her mouth to ask what she was talking about, but she found herself on the receiving end of another red-hot bear-hug before she could make a sound. She managed a feeble squeak, but still, she felt no pain.

“Hey, now,” came Gale’s voice. One of the wizard’s pale hands landed on Karlach’s shoulder and shook her gently. “Let’s give her some space.”

Karlach nodded, set Tali back on her bedroll, and stood back. Tali frowned up at the two of them. Slowly, to avoid aggravating any lingering wounds she might have, she turned her head and found more figures beyond them: Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, and Lae’zel. In the corner of the tent stood one final figure, someone she at first did not recognize. As her eyes adjusted to the meager light and sensation returned to her tired limbs, her divine sense, too, seemed to wake up.

“Withers,” she said.

The skeletal individual met her eye and gave her a single nod.

“You’re still following us, then.”

“Indeed,” Withers said.

“And he’s keeping his word,” Gale said. “He just brought you back.”

“Back?” Tali looked at him strangely. Karlach had said something about being “back,” and it hadn’t made sense then, either.

“From the dead,” Shadowheart murmured.

“What?”

Wyll peeked around Karlach’s shoulder. “Do you remember the necromancer?”

“Yes, of course.” He had been hideous, and he and his minions had reeked of death and evil. His magic had spread poison and pain through every part of her body, and his flesh golem had injured her grievously. No--not injured.

“That creature killed me,” she concluded. The words left her lips a little too easily.

“I’m sorry,” Shadowheart said. “I attempted to revive you then and there, but he reanimated your body as a zombie before I had the chance. We had to bring you back here to Last Light Inn and pay Withers.”

“Last Light?” Tali repeated. She gingerly pushed herself upright. As she did, her skin stretched, and she felt something flake away. “How long was I dead?”

“About two days. We carried you back through Reithwin as quickly as we could.”

“Two days?” Tali said, surprised. Her last memories felt far away, as if she had been dead a month or more. But then, perhaps that was just how memories felt after revivification. She had no way of knowing.

“It was awful,” Karlach said. “You were--gods, I don’t even--”

“We’ll fill you in later,” Wyll said quickly. “We should give you some time to collect yourself. Rest. Take as much time as you need.”

Gale held up a finger. “One thing, though. Your armor and clothing were severely damaged. The former is being repaired as much as is possible, but the latter….” He shrugged apologetically. “We shall have to retrieve something else for you.”

Tali looked down and realized for the first time that she was naked and caked in dried blood. Her legs seemed intact and functional, though. She wiggled her toes to make sure.

“I don’t have much else,” she murmured. “Except the drow's clothes. I think I still have them in one of my packs.”

“I know the ones,” Wyll said. “I’ll find them for you.” He left the tent.

Halsin tipped his head to Tali. He had been silent until now. “I am glad for your recovery, Tali,” he said, and he left, too.

Had she felt more confident in her strength and mobility, Tali would have considered running after him. Since the group’s arrival at Last Light Inn, he had been scarce, searching for more information about the current state of the shadow curse. She would have to track him down later to ask him about his progress.

Lae’zel ducked out next, and the others started towards the tent flap. Tali grabbed Karlach’s hand to stop her.

“What about the necromancer?” Tali asked. “Did you all kill Balthazar?”

Karlach nodded. “Your fire spell made the big thing vulnerable, and Wyll came in and killed it right after you… went out.” She winced. “It wasn’t easy after that, but we did get him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um… yeah. To be extra sure, we cut him up and threw most of him into the deeper parts of the temple.”

Tali nodded approvingly. “Good. Who knows what sort of backup plans he had for his own death?”

Karlach shrugged. “Dunno. It’d have to be a damn good plan.” She grinned, but her smile wavered quickly, and her face fell. Tears gleamed in her eyes again.

Tali pulled her hand closer, brow furrowed in concern. “Karlach? What is it?”

A tear finally fell, steaming on Karlach’s cheek. “I’m sorry, soldier. I just--” She looked over her shoulder, but except for the skeleton hovering in the corner, the two tieflings were now alone. She leaned in close. “I’m so, so sorry. Balthazar picked you up and made you a zombie, and it was just… it was terrible. You’re formidable, even dead. I… I re-killed you. I’m sorry.”

Vague discomfort washed over Tali, and she was unsure what to say. She reflected that she had accepted the news of her death very quickly--perhaps too quickly--but, since she was alive now, it seemed little more serious than falling unconscious. The thought of something else using her body while she was absent disconcerted her. She tried to shrug it off.

“It’s all right,” she said. “That was not me, just my body. I think I was far away by then.”

The tortured look lingered on Karlach’s face. “It left a scar.”

Tali looked down at herself again. Through the dried blood, she couldn’t make out any new scars.

“Oh, it’s… your neck,” Karlach said. “I… might have… cut off your head.”

Tali wrapped a hand around her neck, feeling for any new bumps or ridges, but she felt nothing of note. She smiled at Karlach. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a unique story. Few adventurers can boast a decapitation scar.”

Karlach matched her smile. “Yeah.” She stood up straight and shook herself out. “You should rest now, soldier. Like Gale said. You just let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With one last look over her shoulder, as though to reassure herself that Tali was indeed alive, Karlach pushed through the tent flap.

Tali cast a brief glance at Withers. She had avoided close encounters with him as best she could since his mysterious appearance. Although he did not always stay within sight, he had tailed her camp silently and unhindered through all terrain, and he was never far. She still could not decide what to feel about him; her divine sense screamed that he was an undead monstrosity, but also spread the soothing balm of a celestial presence over her. Withers had remained unwilling to explain the combination, and that made her nervous.

In accordance with her friends’ recommendations, she lay back on the bedroll to try and get some more rest. Dirty as she was, she did not want to slip inside, even as she became gradually more aware of the cold ground. She ran a finger along the stone beneath her.

She raised her eyes from the grey plain to the horizon, where the featureless land met the featureless sky. A single shape broke the flat line and reached skyward: a slender tower. It jutted like a finger pointing accusations at heaven. At its base spread an uneven bulge on the land, like a rock formation… or a city.

She reflected on her options. There were no other landmarks and no people in sight. She started towards the spire.

Tali started upright and gripped the sides of the bedroll with her fists. The dim, cold, quiet space of the tent seemed suddenly unpleasant, though nothing in this cramped setting resembled the flat plain she’d seen a moment ago. She turned slowly to Withers.

“What was that?” she demanded.

Withers blinked at her slowly, like an elderly owl.

“What was that?” she said again, more loudly. She got to her feet and stumbled towards him. “Didn’t you see it?”

“Nothing here has changed,” he said.

“I saw a tower,” Tali insisted. “Everything turned grey, but not like the shadow-cursed lands. It was all flat. No trees or anything. There was a tower in the distance.”

Withers nodded. “Thou sawest right, but not here and now.”

“A memory?”

He did not answer.

Tali backed off. “Of when I was dead. I went somewhere. Or… my soul did. And my soul remembers it.”

Another slow blink.

She closed her eyes and racked her brain, trying to recall the tower. To her confusion, her mind found nothing else to grab onto, and she gave up quickly. She had only spent two days dead; maybe, if she was lucky, there wasn’t anything more to remember.

Sighing, she brushed herself off, sending tiny brown flakes to the ground like bloody snow. She could not bear to rest in this state any longer. So far her body seemed sound and intact, so she’d make use of it.

She pulled the tent flap aside to peer out. To her right rose the structure of the inn itself, and to her left the land sloped down towards the river. She heard voices and footsteps, but she couldn't see anyone; the Harpers and the inn's other inhabitants were probably busying themselves about the courtyard and main building as they often did. She'd have relative privacy if she went down to the river for a bath.

She gingerly extended one leg, planting her bare toes in the cold, dewy grass, then fully stepped out into the fresh air. She took a deep, contented breath.

Movement to her right caught her eye, and she turned by instinct. She immediately regretted it.

There, leaning against the wall of Last Light Inn facing the tent, was Aradin. For a moment Tali thought she could turn and run away before he noticed her, but that hope was dashed when their eyes met.

Empty buildings, deathly imitations of a mortal city, rose up all around her. The cobblestones were white as bone. Tali's footsteps echoed dully in the too-clear air, but the sound didn't reach as far as it should have. This empty plane swallowed it up.

“Amanda!”

The name and voice were familiar but old, so old that they shouldn't have been real. Tali's blood chilled. She dared not turn to see who was calling.

“Amanda!”

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She was going to regret this. She turned around and mustered the courage to look.

It was Cleric Lisha.

Tali reeled back, shocked, and blinked hard, wondering if the vision could be true. But the cleric wasn't there anymore. Instead there was only Aradin, and now he was staring at her strangely. She considered trying to assure him she was fine and it was a memory, but for one thing, she wasn't at all sure she was fine. For another, she remembered that she was still unclothed, and she panicked. She whipped about and sprinted for the water.

Without pause, she leaped into the river and submerged herself up to her neck. Immediately the cracked, dry patches of blood all over her body softened and began to dissolve. Unfortunately, the cold water did little for the heat rising to her face.

It was stupid, and she felt ashamed of her shame. Aradin had seen her naked before; his entire crew had. She hadn't gotten flustered then, so why should she now?

She blamed her recent death and resurrection. Stress must have pulled her emotions taut, and things that wouldn't normally embarrass or disconcert her now became problematic. She had to bring her mind to heel again, since there was still plenty of work ahead of her.

With the river hiding her and a long slope standing between her and the inn, Tali felt secure enough in her privacy to turn her thoughts to the latest flash of memory. It made her uneasy. Why had she seen Lisha? That grey place couldn't possibly have been Tyr's Court, but someone as righteous and good as Cleric Lisha wouldn't stop anywhere short of Mount Celestia. What was that place, and why had she been there?

Tali clutched her horns and tried to remember something else. Had the vision of Lisha said something else to her? She couldn't bring anything to mind. She sought backwards in her memory; how did she get into that strange, empty city in the first place? Still nothing.

Frustrated, Tali dipped her head underwater and washed her hair. When she resurfaced, a dull, pulsing sensation washed over her, coming from the shore. Devil. Devil. Devil. She turned. Wyll was coming down the slope with a bundle of cloth under his arm. He stopped on dry ground and set the bundle down, patting it for emphasis.

“I think these are what you were talking about,” he said. “The black clothes you wore to the refugees’ party a couple of tendays ago, right?”

“Right,” Tali said. She moved closer to shore but stayed mostly submerged for modesty. “Thank you, Wyll.”

He tipped his head. “You're welcome.” He turned to leave.

“Wyll?”

“Yes?”

“I've been unfair to you. You're too kind.”

He sighed, and his one good eye softened. It was black and hellish red, but it still managed to look friendly. “I try to be respectful. I know how much I discomfit other people, and I understand your paladin senses make my presence particularly stressful. And that is not without reason.”

“It's not with enough reason,” Tali said. She frowned as a new thought occurred to her. “Do you have a soul?”

Wyll shrugged. “Probably.”

“You don't know?”

“How would I tell?” He shook his head. “Truth be told, I try not to think too much about my, ah, transformation. I’m sure I have a soul, but an infernal soul is not like a mortal one. Perhaps it’s for the best that I don’t know much.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Wyll smiled. “You could ask Gale.”

The putrid creature grinned at Tali, its beady red eyes gleaming evilly. “You could ask my masters.” It held out a clawed hand, in which it held a small card.

Tali looked at it in distaste. “I don't want anything from a devil.”

The creature shrugged. “It's a favorable alternative, and the offer remains open. When you find your post-mortal options slimming, I hope you can find us in time.”

“Tali?”

The creature was gone. Tali scrambled to hold on to the image of it so she could decipher its squat, spiny form, but the memory drifted away. She blinked hard and tried to focus on Wyll. “What?”

He looked worried. “You were staring off into space. What are you thinking about?”

“Being dead.”

“Ah. That is fair. I suppose I would be, too, had I just become un-deceased.”

“Yes. It makes sense,” Tali said despondently. “I remember the fight with Balthazar, but it feels so distant. I have a lot of time missing. I don’t know where it went.”

Wyll crouched on the beach to be closer to her eye level. “I’m sorry, Tali. It was a fortunate thing we had our mysterious ally close at hand to bring you back, but it would have been better to not die at all.”

“How much did he charge?”

“Two hundred gold pieces. Consider it a minor inconvenience. We each contributed some, and we have plenty of resources left. The pain and stress you’ve suffered is the real cost.”

Tali sighed, sending bubbles across the river’s surface. “Thank you. Thank all of you.”

The warlock stood and brushed himself off. “For my part, you’re welcome. I’ll pass along the thanks to the others.”

Tali nodded. Her eyes wandered past him and towards the inn. A familiar, dreaded figure still stood near the wall next to the inn’s side door, as though he was waiting for something. “I have one more question, Wyll. The last one for now.”

“What is it?”

“Did we find the Nightsong?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. After we dispatched Balthazar, we hurried out of there with you as fast as we could. We wanted you resurrected sooner, rather than later.”

“I see.” Tali sank. “We’ll have to search the mausoleum.”

“And that might mean cutting our way through Reithwin. “But--” He held up his hands in a gesture of patience. “All of that can wait. Finish your bath and get whatever rest you need. We’ll fill you in later.”

Tali nodded. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

He smiled. “That you will.” With that, he turned and left.

Submerging her head again, Tali scratched her scalp and dug her nails into the grooves of her horns, trying to get rid of all the grime and residue of the last days, especially the days she’d spent as a corpse. She must smell awful, and she reflected that she had probably spent most of her adult life smelling awful without really noticing. Maybe, after defeating the cult, she'd get some fine soaps or even perfume from the big city. Maybe it wouldn't suit her well, but now was the time to try.

Why now? she wondered at her own thoughts. The disconcerting realization struck her. Oh. Because I'm alive, and life ends.

Content for the moment with her cleanliness, Tali left the water and sat down on the gravel beach. The tiny, uneven rocks dug into her feet and buttocks, but she didn’t mind the discomfort. Her last living memory was of agony, and it was unnatural for her body to be so whole and hale. It was good to feel mortal. Vulnerable.

The cold air dried her slowly. As she waited, she examined her newly cleaned body for scars. Her legs looked mostly fine; some small marks crossed the skin where her armor or bones had broken it during her fight with the golem, but she saw no sign of lasting injury or complication. So far she had been walking without difficulty, and she hoped that would continue to be the case. Without a mirror to observe her decapitation scar, the only other thing she could see was a massive, jagged patch of silvery skin near the center of her chest.

She gingerly touched the scar, recalling the golem’s hook. The killing blow.

Other people had come back from the dead; it wasn't uncommon in stories of heroes and adventurers. But those stories were always triumphant, talking about mortals defying reality or reappearing at the perfect time to save someone else. Tali didn't remember hearing anything about flashing memories of an aborted afterlife. Was that a unique product of Withers’ resurrection, or of dying and coming back in a land steeped in negative energy? Or was this the shocking, ugly side of resurrection that storytellers weren't keen to include?

Tali tried to shake herself out of her thoughts. She decided she was dry enough and donned her clothes. As she did up the laces, she realized that her top framed the scar over her heart perfectly. She touched it once more, feeling her heartbeat deep beneath, and started back towards the inn. She was getting hungry.

On the way, she raised her gaze to Aradin, who lingered still. Her stomach churned, as queasy as if she’d been struck by another one of Balthazar’s sickening rays, but at the same time, her heart leapt. Now that she was clean, clothed, and a little further from the grave, she was happy to see him.

She recalled the teasing she’d received from her tadpole-infected companions yesterday--or last tenday--no, it had only been three days at most--and her unease increased. Had she lied to them? How could she, if she couldn’t discern the truth in the first place?

I’ll just hold my tongue, she promised herself. If I keep my mouth shut, it can't get me into trouble.

With that resolution, she approached. She put on an uneasy smile. “Hello.”

Aradin leaned back, further into the shadow of the inn’s upper floor. “Points. Busy day.”

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “You’d know better than me. Your lot was busy, at least. They was running around like all the Hells was after them. Sometimes they got real loud, and sometimes they got awful quiet. Never saw you, though.”

“Until--"

“Until you got it in your head to go streaking across the yard. Yeah.”

Tali winced. “Sorry.”

“At least there’s no guards to arrest you for it. You keep picking damn cold places to do it, though.”

“It's never my first plan,” Tali said, annoyed. She started sidling past him towards the inn’s side door. Inside, the taproom was bright as always and full of voices. She caught a favorable whiff of charring pork.

Before she could cross the threshold, Aradin stepped in front of her, leaning one arm against the doorframe to block the way. Tali took a step back.

“What?” she said.

“Ain’t you forgetting something?”

She stopped and thought. She felt as though she was forgetting a lot of things, but he was certainly not referring to her half-remembered time as a soul adrift. She cast her mind backward, searching for any important events before her demise, and settled on their last conversation.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and heat rose to her face anew. “Well, maybe you should start forgetting things, yourself.”

“Should I?” He untied a coinpurse from his belt and held it out towards her.

Lisha extended her arms to offer welcome, but Tali recoiled from her. Where her hands ought to have been were scarred stumps. That was wrong. Even on the day of her death, Cleric Lisha still had hands.

“What are you?” Tali hissed.

The dwarf woman beckoned again with her maimed arms. “It’s me. It’s Lisha. Oh, my dear girl, you are here too soon.”

“Here?”

Cleric Lisha’s face fell, and her eyes filled with a sadness Tali had never seen in her. “The City of Judgement.”

The grey mist peeled away, and Aradin reappeared, still proffering a pouch. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to take it, but with a new shadow of wariness in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Tali said. “What?”

“Did you get stupider out there?”

“No,” she scoffed. She started reaching for the coinpurse. “What’s this?”

He rolled his eyes. “Something you forgot, turns out. You left money with me, idiot. I’m giving it back.”

Tali tipped her head, confused. “Why?”

“What, you don’t want it?”

Her companions had spent two hundred gold pieces bringing her back. Maybe she could repay them, at least in part, once she had her private funds back. Then again, Wyll had assured her it hadn’t been too much of a blow to the party’s resources. She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’ll be going out again soon enough. Keep it until I’m done with the cult.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Don’t ask me again.”

“I won’t.” He reattached it to his belt with a smirk of satisfaction. “No better burden than a bag of coin.”

Tali crossed her arms and waited for him to get out of her way, but he did not leave the doorway. Instead, he leaned more casually in it, setting his shoulder against one frame and his feet against the other. His entrenchment indicated he had no intention of letting Tali through anytime soon.

She huffed. “What else do you want?”

Aradin nodded towards the tent she’d come from earlier. “What was all that?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“‘Cause I do.”

“What if I decide that’s not a good enough reason?”

“Then don't say nothing.”

Tali’s tail lashed back and forth. By instinct, she was inclined to be combative, but she didn’t know why. In spite of herself, she relaxed, dropped her arms to her sides, and answered.

“You… were right,” she said slowly. “All your talk about me getting myself killed. I did.”

Aradin blinked. “Pardon?”

“I was killed. Out there. We tracked down a necromancer working for the cult and we killed him, but not before one of his creatures killed me.” She pointed to the middle of her chest. “I have a new scar from it.”

His eyes flicked down. He grunted. “That is new.”

“My companions were probably busy taking away my armor and things so I could be resurrected intact. But I don't know how everything works.” Tali rubbed her neck. “Maybe they had to sew my head back on first.”

Aradin’s expression of surprise turned at once to suspicion. “Hang on. You're pulling my leg.”

“Not at all.”

“Your cleric is that good, huh?”

“No, we--we have someone else. He's been following us for at least a month now, and he seems interested in keeping us alive. I think he's some enemy of the cult, but he doesn't want to face them directly for some reason. So, instead, he's using his power to keep a handful of people alive to fight them.”

“How do I get one of those?” Aradin said. He sighed through his nose. “Shit. This quest of yours is bigger than you let on.”

“It's bigger than I know how to deal with.”

“Well. Don't let me get in your way.” Aradin straightened and left the doorway, gesturing half-heartedly at the cozy common room beyond.

Tali looked longingly into the inn, but despite the hunger that had driven her to the building, she found herself suddenly reluctant to go through. She wasn't sure if she wanted to stay near Aradin or if she merely felt unwilling to plunge into another adoring crowd. Knowing herself, it was the latter, but perhaps….

I'd best leave, she thought as panic rose again, before I say something stupid.

She resisted the fear, and instead of brushing past him and leaving him alone out in the cold, she turned and leaned against the wall next to him.

“It's not fair,” she murmured.

“Life ain't,” Aradin concurred. “Makes sense that death ain't, either.”

Tali looked over at him. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were on the river below, as if he was pointedly looking away from her.

“My condolences for your crew,” she said softly.

He shrugged, a little too forcefully. “You never knew them. Just be glad the gods decided to pull you back. I should have got a few on my side.”

“I didn't ‘get’ anyone on my side. That thing singled me out, the one following me. If I could, I'd tell that creature to bring back scores of other people before considering me.”

“How selfless of you,” Aradin said dryly.

“I just mean--" Her heart sank; she was digging herself into a new hole. “Never mind. Sorry.”

“Nah. I'm sorry.”

Tali stared at him in shock. He caught her look and sighed.

“It's like you said,” he said brusquely. “It ain’t fair. That's all.”

“Yes. Right.”

Silence hovered between them. Tali realized that they frequently lapsed into these long, quiet moments, and she wondered what was in these silences. In this one, at least, she tried to find peace and sense. Side by side, they watched the river lap at the gravel far beneath them, but Tali occasionally snuck glances at Aradin. He had stopped her until she told him what had happened to her today. His concern surprised her.

Her heart sped up, and she tried with annoyance to calm it. Her companions had planted the foolish notion in her mind. They professed to love her, yes, but that didn't give her license to start looking for affection in every interaction. Aradin’s care for her was utilitarian, as it ought to be, and her care for him was a matter of duty.

That’s dishonest, she scolded herself. Her interest was obviously more than that. For whatever reason, she wanted to do right by him.

“We're close to the Nightsong,” she blurted out.

That piqued Aradin's interest, and some of the gloom lifted from his demeanor. “Yeah?”

“The cult has been using it. It's part of a mechanism protecting their leader, so I'll be taking it off their hands. I think I'll put it in yours, instead.”

“That’s generous.”

“Are you that surprised?” Tali shrugged. “I don't think I'll have need of it, and five thousand gold pieces seems like a good enough use.”

He let out a long breath. “Yeah. Five thousand.”

“That wizard might even give you more. You took on the bounty long enough ago that he could be getting desperate for leads.”

“He better cough up some extra. This thing's been a real bitch to chase down.”

Tali dared to inch closer. “What are your plans for the reward money?”

“It was gonna be a big step up for the whole group. We was looking at getting a place, so we'd have a proper guild hall instead of flopping at whatever inn had room. We was gonna get new weapons, too. Maybe some magical shite.” A smile flickered on his face, then gave way to a dark glower. “Now I got people to pay first. A lot of them that died had families back in the Gate. I'll owe them.”

Tali's spirits fell with his. “I see.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders as if to shrug off a heavy load. “That Nightsong money would smooth some things out. But it ain't worth dying for.”

“You won't die,” Tali said. “You won't have to take any more risks. I'll bring it to you.”

“It's you I'm worried about.”

Tali was taken aback. “What?”

“You just went and died. Don't do it again, even if you got a hundred creepy old men following you to pick you back up.” He shook his head. “Ain't worth it.”

“I should take advantage of it, though, shouldn't I?” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Dying is an option for me while the Absolute exists. I can take that risk, and I'll bear that burden, if it helps.”

“If it ‘helps’?” Aradin repeated, incredulous. “That ain't an even trade.”

“Then, if it comes to that, you'll have to make it even.” Tali pushed herself away from the wall.

Aradin mirrored her. “And what would make that even?”

“You've talked about rewarding me before. You'll come up with something.” She started towards the door.

“What do you want?”

Tali gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

He leaned closer, almost blocking the way into the inn again. “You got something you want to say to me?”

He knows, Tali realized in alarm, or at least thinks he knows something. This was the perfect opportunity to say… what? She didn't even have the right words for what she felt, since she couldn't be sure what it was in the first place.

She didn't have to say anything. She could do. As she eyed him up and down, his frame silhouetted by warm firelight, her mind wandered. At last, she recognized the heart-fire, and she did not crush it back down. Her tail swished languidly, and she suddenly, desperately wanted their fingers to entwine, the distance between them to close….

The contorted man turned as far as he could, craning his neck at a painful angle to look her in the eye. He reached out, but he was restrained by the green film surrounding him. His fingers splayed against the surface of his prison but found no way through. His mouth opened, but he could not scream.

Tali took two hasty steps back, aghast. As she raised her eyes, she realized the entire city wall was made up of people just like this man, crammed against one another in a huge mosaic of bodies. They all writhed and pressed against their moldy coverings, but to no avail. The ones at the top clawed at the grey sky. The nearest held hands out towards Tali, as though begging her for help.

She covered her mouth with a hand, suppressing her horror. These people were crushed beneath so much weight that she did not know how she could begin to pull them free.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered. “What sick fiend did this?”

A voice whispered back, “The Faithless did this to themselves.”

Tali took an involuntary step back, bringing her arms close in a protective gesture.

“N-nothing,” she stammered out. “Nothing that can't wait. I need food, and maybe a drink.” She hurried past Aradin.

He let her by without protest, but he watched her with clear skepticism. She knew she would have to come clean eventually, but that could happen after she had some time to sort through her perturbing death-memories. Preferably it could happen after the cult was gone; if she was really lucky, she could hold her peace until Baldur's Gate. An old appetite was creeping back in, but it did not overrule her better judgment. Her personal interests could not be allowed to interfere with her responsibilities.

So, for the moment, Tali sat down and prepared to sate her stomach instead. She would wait.

Chapter Text

Everyone else seemed to think night had come, but Tali’s body disagreed. Two days dead had given her more than enough sleep.

She paced the emptying taproom restlessly. Through the hours, Flaming Fists took turns stoking the kitchen’s fire. Most of the rest of Last Light’s inhabitants had scattered to their rooms and tents, and the place felt eerily quiet.

Tali remembered little of her studies from her home temple; she had never been academically gifted, and she remembered little of anything beyond her martial training. So she had asked Gale about her visions of death, but he knew little of the afterlife despite his extensive time with a goddess. All he could provide was that souls often went to the Fugue Plane on their way to their final destinations and from there went on to join their favored deities. Shadowheart had told her that the City of Judgment was the seat of Kelemvor, the Judge of the dead, and that petitioning souls often waited there before being taken to whatever plane was to be their eternal home. None of that information helped Tali to truly make sense of what she'd seen--what she kept seeing. For a fleeting moment she wished the vampire was still around; he had died before, so he might have had some insight for her.

The most frustrating and appalling thing was the wall of living, writhing bodies. Faithless. She wondered what that meant. What did a mortal have to do to deserve such a fate? She reflected on the size of the wall, looming over the great dead city. Innumerable thousands of people were in there. How easy was it to end up like that, crushed and encased for eternity?

Then there was what little she could recall of Cleric Lisha, the dwarf who had been like a mother to her. Tali shuddered at the thought. Even souls who managed to avoid the wall could still end up in that ghostly city with pieces missing. Was there any way to insure one’s afterlife against a morbid fate?

New fears gnawed at her heart. Would the Lady of Loss abandon Shadowheart? Would Gale’s departure from Mystra turn into an eternal exile? Did Karlach have a chosen god, and if she didn’t, would she be given a place with any of them? Where was Wyll to go after death, considering his infernal transformation? Was there a place out there for githyanki like Lae’zel who rejected Vlaakith? The group was constantly tangling with danger, and some of them seemed unavoidably doomed. If damnation awaited, they did not have long to avoid it.

There were too many questions, too many bad outcomes, and too little to do about it. Frustrated, Tali grabbed a half-full bottle of ale and left the inn. The heat of the central fire receded, and cold--ubiquitous and increasingly familiar--embraced her. As she tipped her head back to take a sip, she shot a dark glance at the starless void.

The spire was jagged and harsh, its crystalline facets reflecting the featureless grey sky around it. No matter how far Tali craned her neck, she couldn’t quite see the top.

“I'm going back,” she said. She set her jaw and started along the empty street. “One way or another.”

Cleric Lisha reached for her, the stump of her arm brushing Tali’s wrist. “It isn't wise.”

Tali scoffed. “What will he do? Kill me again?”

“I… I do not know. But he is the Judge, and his word is law. If you do something especially blasphemous….”

“Then I will have done it in the name of justice and honor,” Tali interrupted. “I cannot go to Tyr with promises unfulfilled.”

She blinked and lowered the bottle from her lips. The glimpses that came to her were not in their proper order, and the entire sequence still had not resolved itself. This one must have been one of the most recent she'd recovered so far, near the end of her short afterlife.

She swirled the ale bottle and pondered the miniature, alcoholic whirlpool she created. She seemed to have threatened to challenge Kelemvor himself, to demand passage back to life. It was foolish. Her death had been easy to accept upon her resurrection; what would push her to such desperation?

“All die, Amanda,” Lisha said softly.

Tali kept her back to the dwarf woman. “My name is Retaliation,” she reiterated, jaw taut, “and I can’t be dead right now.”

“I know it’s hard to accept. I know it’s… frightening, to say the least. But--"

“You think I’m afraid?” Tali turned, suddenly cognizant of how tall she was and how broad her shoulders had grown in the years since she’d last seen Lisha. She was not vulnerable to the cowardice of youth anymore. “I am not afraid of death, Cleric.”

“Then why do you need to find a way back?”

“You heard me. Unless Kelemvor took your ears along with your hands?”

Lisha recoiled, stung by the harsh words, and Tali felt a pang of remorse. Perhaps she shouldn’t speak so harshly; this was one of her mothers, for gods’ sakes. But Lisha was dead. There were living people who still needed her.

She set her jaw and marched towards the tower.

That was it. Tali had not been afraid of death, nor even wholly unwilling to accept it. She had to return, not for her sake, but for the sake of the fight against the Absolute. For her fellows who suffered illithid parasites. For the promises she had yet to see to their end.

Her heart nagged at her. Are you sure it wasn’t for your own sake?

There was no denying where a portion of her restlessness came from. With the hour growing late, the promise of secrecy in the darkness of eternal night, and a few sips of ale, she might make a very different choice regarding Aradin than the one she had a few hours ago. It was good, then, that he had retired alongside everyone else; he didn’t know it yet, but he had spared her an embarrassing lapse in discipline.

Tali turned and stalked towards the river's edge, annoyed at herself. Her mind felt simultaneously too clear and too muddled. The shore was the quietest area within the moon-dome's protection, even during the inn’s active hours, thanks to the constant rhythm of the water drowning out the rest of the world. There she could think. There, perhaps, she could start to understand all the things she didn’t.

As she descended the hill, she noticed a silhouette interrupting the shimmer on the water. The figure was seated on the ground, but that hardly diminished his considerable size. She only knew of one person in the region with such an imposing stature: Halsin. If it was wisdom she wanted, she might find more from him than from her own meditation. She changed course and walked towards him.

The big elf looked over his shoulder as Tali approached. The meager light put a soft glint in his eyes as he smiled. In spite of her discomfort, Tali smiled back. She wasn't sure how old he appeared to other elves, but to her he seemed as old as rocks and trees, with a slow, quiet wisdom to match. In some ways he reminded her of one of her father figures, the old horsemaster at the Tyrran temple.

“My friend. How are you?” he asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Tali replied. She took the last few steps to the water’s edge and looked down at him. “What are you doing here?”

Halsin held up his hands. In them were sopping bundles of cloth, dripping river water onto his folded legs. “Laundry. I need far less sleep than most of the people here, so I am doing my part to help.” His eyes flicked to the bottle in her hand, and his brows lowered in concern. “How much have you had tonight?”

Tali sheepishly hid the ale behind her leg. Halsin had been at the party with the tiefling refugees, and he might have witnessed much of her excess and embarrassing drunkenness.

“Not much,” she said quickly. “I’ve been keeping my head mostly clear.”

Halsin nodded. “Good, if that is what you want. I understand if you need a little help getting a peaceful sleep. It must be heavy, the weight of recent death and resurrection.”

Tali frowned. “Have you ever died?”

He shook his head. “No, though I have felt terribly close.” He wrung out one garment and tossed it into a large tub beside him, where it landed with a wet slap.

“Have you ever known anyone else who died and came back?”

“One or two, though no one close enough that they’d want to share the story with me. If near-death experiences are rattling, I cannot imagine how unpleasant it must be to truly die.”

Tali took a sip. “It’s confusing, more than anything.”

Halsin raised an eyebrow. “Confusing? How so?”

“I keep having visions of a grey place. It’s the City of Judgment in the Fugue Plane, and I think they’re memories. Like my mind is catching up with my soul, if that makes sense.”

“I see.”

“But they’re out of order, and there are lots of pieces missing. Do you know anything about where souls go after death?”

Halsin cast the other bundle of cloth into the clean tub to join its fellow. He dug his wet fingers into the pebbly shore beside him and raised up a handful of rocks and silt.

“The Oak-Father is a representative and guardian of nature, of the physical world,” he said. “He is not a particularly spiritual god. I follow in his footsteps. I’m afraid I know little of any realm beyond this.”

Tali sighed. “That’s true of everyone. It seems like I’ll need to find a genie or a solar or something if I want more specific information.”

Halsin shrugged apologetically and shook the pebbles from his hand. “Or a god. I don’t suppose you’ve had time for prayer yet this evening?”

“What?”

“Pray for knowledge.”

Tali blinked, taken aback. “I’ve never thought to do that before.”

“I suppose I’m not surprised. Yours is more a god of action than words, and I’ve seen the power you bring to bear in his name. More often than not, battle is your prayer.”

“Yes. That’s a good way to put it. And sometimes I pray for guidance and protection, but never for answers.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try.” Halsin unfolded his legs and stood. “This is a peaceful place, good for meditation on nature’s beauty despite the gloom. I recommend it, if you seek wisdom and reprieve.”

Tali looked down in shame. “I wish I had either.”

Halsin set a hand on her shoulder. A few icy droplets ran down her arm.

“You’ll have them,” he said with an encouraging smile. “It takes time, though. Patience.” He turned and picked up the laundry tub, hefting it easily in his massive arms. “I’ll give you some space.”

“It’s a big river,” she pointed out. “There’s room for both of us.”

“But not much for a laundry line. I’ll find somewhere good to hang these up.” He started away from the water.

“Wait,” Tali said. “I need to ask you about the shadow curse.”

“What about it?”

“Your progress. Do you know what we need to do next?”

“‘We’?” His eyes twinkled. “Don’t agree to anything too soon, Tali. We’ll discuss it later. You still need time to recover. Your body might be ready for the next fight, but your mind and soul have healing yet to do.”

Tali frowned. “All right. Just… don’t let me forget.”

“I will not.”

He left, and as his heavy footfalls receded up the hill and into silence, Tali’s heart grew louder within her. She raised her free hand and pressed it against her chest as though to calm its sudden murmuring. It felt cold and afraid, as if it expected to be crushed again.

“Fine.” Tali faced the apparition, despite the cold feeling that flooded her when she looked at it. “If you are Lisha, then why are you here?”

Emotions warred on the dwarf’s face. Then, with shame, she hung her head. She raised the nubs where her hands had been.

“I failed,” she said. “I hid it--not just from you, from everyone.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I… sacrificed. I covered for a friend. I made sure justice was not done for the crime he committed, and I carried it in perfect secrecy to my death.”

Tali shook her head. “No. I won't have any more of this cruel trick. Whatever you are, shed your illusion now.”

“I'm no illusion, Amanda!”

“My name is Retaliation.” Tali took a threatening step towards her. “Cleric Lisha was an honorable, just woman, and she was a devout follower of Tyr for a hundred years or more. You should have picked a better lie.”

The dwarf woman looked up, her face contorted in pain. “It's the truth. After our arrival here, the other clerics and knights were retrieved and led to Mount Celestia. I alone was left behind, one of the False, because of my failure. The Judge decreed that my hands be taken, since they’d failed to enact the justice my mouth spoke.”

Tali raised her hand, ready to strike the apparition. “That's--that’s enough! I don't know if you're a demon or a ghost or something else, but I won't hear you slander Cleric Lisha like this!”

The apparition did not flinch in Tali's imposing presence. Her gaze held the young tiefling's, calm, unbroken. Agonized. Tali's heart sank.

She was real.

As she pulled herself from the vision, Tali’s frantic pulse nearly drowned out the rushing river. She held her chest scar tighter, as though holding a lid over the boiling, wordless terror. By contrast, her mind didn’t feel as scared as her heart. Instead, she felt… sad. Hollow.

She’ll never press flowers again, she thought.

Shuddering, she took a larger swig of ale. She would have preferred if her last memory of the cleric was still the gaping mouth and bloody sideburns. For years, she’d thought all her beloved dead were on Mount Celestia in Tyr’s Court. She had never paused to wonder if anyone had been left behind.

It seemed so unjust. Lisha had received her punishment; why did she have to stay in that dead city, so far from the heavens she’d aspired to? Was the severing of her hands--her skilled, guiding hands--not sufficient penance? Tali wanted to be indignant, angry. But her divine fire was nowhere to be found.

“What’s the matter?” she muttered, turning her anger inward. “Not unjust enough for you?”

“The Faithless did this to themselves.”

Tali ripped her attention away from the ghastly wall of writhing flesh. “Who said that?”

A strange creature crouched nearby, drawing on the flat ground with its claw. It had two legs and two arms like a humanoid, but a long tail adorned with wicked spikes and wings that shrouded its body like a cloak. It raised its head, revealing a lizard-like face with beady eyes.

Tali’s divine sense rang out a rapid rhythm: DEVIL DEVIL DEVIL. She had only her bare fists, but she nonetheless adopted a combat-ready stance.

The creature stood up to its full height, still a full head and shoulders shorter than her, and sneered. “Calm down. I have a right to be here. And you did ask.”

Tali scowled. “I don’t remember asking for anything.”

The devil tipped its head towards the wall of people. “You were wondering who trapped them there. I answered. They put them there.”

“How is that possible?”

“They’re Faithless,” it replied with a shrug. “All Faithless come here.”

“How? They climb up and find a cozy spot?” Tali shook her head, revolted. “Who put them in this wall?”

“That’s a long story.”

Tali tipped her head. The thing before her was probably a spinagon, a lesser devil. It was likely here in service of something else.

“Was it your master?” she asked.

It laughed. “Oh, no, not at all. You are new, aren’t you?”

“Answer me.”

“Fine, fine. You might know it best as the Wall of the Faithless, or Myrkul’s Wall. He’s the one in charge of it right now, but it’s been around longer than most immortal memories. Mine, at least.” It gave her a ghoulish, toothy grin. “It’s easy to avoid. Just walk through the gate and pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“That doesn’t seem safe. Is it a trap, devil?”

“Not for you, no. Probably.” It sidled closer, carrying with it an odor of sulfur.

Tali took a step away. “Come no closer.”

It held up its hands defensively. “So suspicious! Calm down, mortal.”

“Of course I’m suspicious. You didn’t answer my question” She gestured towards the crushed people, some of whom desperately reached towards her. “This--this is cruel. Beyond cruel. I would know who is responsible.”

“You’re talking to the wrong fiend, then.” The putrid creature grinned at Tali, its beady red eyes gleaming evilly. “You could ask my masters.” It held out a clawed hand, in which it held a small card.

Tali looked at it in distaste. “I don't want anything from a devil.”

The creature shrugged. “It's a favorable alternative, and the offer remains open. When you find your post-mortal options slimming, I hope you can find us in time.”

“What?”

“Answers aren’t the only thing you could stand to gain. If you think you might be Wall-bound, visit us. There’s always a way out.”

“What are you--?”

Before she could finish, the devil flapped its wings and took off into the blank sky. It soared over the wall and vanished from sight before Tali could attempt to ensnare it with magic. In its wake it left only the fluttering card with singed edges.

Tali picked it up carefully. It was warm to the touch and bore Infernal script. Her instinct was to dismiss it at once, but if there was a chance of learning something… anything….

The memory ended. Seething, Tali cast the ale bottle from her hand. It sank partway into the soft riverbed.

“I need answers!” she yelled into the darkness.

The void did not reply. The water at her feet sped on, heedless of the plight of mortals. She kicked it, sending a new ripple across its surface. As the disturbance radiated outward, it faded until the river no longer felt it. The ripples died. The water flowed on.

“Useless,” Tali muttered. “Useless!”

She paced to and fro, tail lashing angrily. The foolish part of her wanted to flee into the inn’s ample wine cellar and try to forget the distressing visions. The practical part knew that could only offer temporary relief, not worth the cost of prolonged ignorance. She had to understand what she had seen. She had to know how a fate so terrible could befall someone as good as Cleric Lisha, and she had to know how the Wall of the Faithless was still allowed to stand. She had to, because if she didn’t, she could do nothing to save the next person to die.

She picked up a smooth stone and ran her thumb over it. In her memories of the grey place were words and images and ideas, but physical sensations were fuzzy and bizarre, as though her mind was instinctively assigning textures and temperatures where there had been none. It was good to feel again, now that she was back. She never wanted to die again.

Tali hefted the stone to loosen her wrist and test the weight. Then she flicked it out over the water, and the pebble skipped--once--twice--thrice--plop. Its tiny splash vanished swiftly, and the shadow-cursed air swallowed up the sound.

She sneered in distaste, but it was impossible to stay angry at the unresponsive emptiness for long. Her chest rose and fell with taut, frustrated breaths. She was not in a praying mood.

But she was out of options.

She knelt on the riverbank, her knees almost touching the lapping edge of the water, then bowed her head low and clasped her hands.

“Tyr,” she said. Her tight voice betrayed her remaining rage. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She was not angry at him. “Tyr… I need information.”

Silence.

“It’s a rare thing, I know. I rarely ask for anything more than what you already give me. It’s been enough until now. You’ve protected me during fights. You’ve given me divine light to purge whatever evil I’ve found. You’ve guided me to the people who need me, even when I didn’t know it.

“But you know all of it already.” Her face grew hot with embarrassment. She felt like a child again, praying to the statues in the temple as if they were really the god himself. “So I’ll… I’ll stop. I’ll ask my questions.

“I was in the Fugue Plane. Or, well, just my soul was, since I was dead. I saw Cleric Lisha there. She was one of your most faithful. She was just and kind. She taught me so many things, and she always treated people fairly. Why didn’t she go to Mount Celestia?”

Silence.

Tali shifted uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you take her?”

The stumps of Lisha’s arms flashed in her mind, followed by a vivid image of two severed hands. They had short, calloused fingers--Lisha’s hands, full of the warmth of life despite their disembodiment. They reached out, and they seemed to shake hands with some unseen figure. Tali strained to see who, to discern any detail, but found nothing to grasp onto. The vision faded.

She took a long moment to let the vision settle. It was not like her death-memories; it was something new. Tyr was answering.

“She… she had an arrangement,” Tali surmised. “Cleric Lisha gave that person special treatment, made them above the law. Is that it?”

Silence.

“Is that enough to damn her?”

Silence.

“I don’t understand. Please.” Tali squeezed her hands tighter. “If one error was enough to make her False--”

IT WAS NOT A MERE ERROR.

Tali started and almost fell over. She glanced furtively from side to side, but she was still alone. There was nowhere those words could have come from. Her mouth went dry. Had that been a direct answer?

“I’m still close,” she whispered. “It’s easier to hear because I’m still not fully here. Right?”

Silence. The river reached just high enough to sting her legs.

“There are so many things I don’t understand. I loved Cleric Lisha. I thought she was a good person.” She paused. “But I didn’t see everything, and I’m biased. She taught me to….” The words stopped in her throat. She remembered it so vividly: looking up into the kindly dwarf woman’s smiling face, gleefully pointing at her first preserved flower. Lisha had given Tali a whole book to fill with flowers.

Tali struggled to regain control of her voice, but it wavered. “At least she’s not Faithless. She doesn’t have hands, but she can do things, right? She can be happy in the City of Judgment. She didn’t seem tortured. I think. I… I don’t know. I don’t think I can be content if she is suffering. She deserves better than that.”
Silence.

“Like the Wall. Do all of those people really deserve it? Myrkul is an evil god. I don’t believe he would spare innocents from that fate.

“Unless….” She racked her mind, trying to remember the faintest glimmer of knowledge from her childhood studies. “Unless Myrkul is only the Wall’s keeper, not its builder. Then the Judge would be the one sending souls there. He’d be responsible for the Wall’s existence. He must send the worst, the most heinous and blasphemous. That’s what ‘Faithless’ means, right? It can’t mean godless, that’s different. Lots of people don’t follow one specific god. That doesn’t mean they should suffer… whatever I saw.” A shiver ran through her from head to tail. “It still seems excessive, even if someone rejects all the gods.”

Silence again. She blinked.

And she no longer saw herself on the dark pebble shore. She saw herself stepping over dead goblins, their blood running over her sabatons, with her old greatsword in her hands. Ahead of her, another goblin fled, its tiny legs carrying it away from her as quickly as possible.

The fight at Moonhaven, Tali realized.

The goblin was not fast enough. Tali rushed after it. It had barely enough time to turn and show her its wide, terrified eyes before she cut it down. More blood--fresh, hot, intoxicating--rose in a fountain, spraying her arms and breastplate. Bones gleamed, newly exposed to the harsh golden sunlight. Guts spilled and spread over the ground.

And she saw Aradin again, breathless and injured at her feet, with her sword ready to fall and end his life.

Tali recoiled. She panted, fogging the air in front of her. Her hands shook and her palms were sweaty. She hastily wiped them on her trousers before she re-clasped them.

“I know,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I know I was wrong about him! I stopped, though. That was your guidance, remember? You guided Remira’s arrow into my shoulder. You rewarded her loyalty by showing it to me. You made me understand.”

Silence.

“Oh, gods. Don’t put me in the Wall.” She bowed lower, and her hair dangled in the current. “It was one mistake, and I didn't see it through.”

Silence. The response from before echoed in her mind: not one mere error….

“I’ve begged forgiveness. I’m trying to make up for it now. And I wasn’t wrong to slay the goblins. I can’t have been. They served a false god, and they were staging to attack non-combatants. I was keeping my oath. It was righteous.”

Silence.

Her voice lowered to a whimper. “Please, Tyr. All I’ve known my whole life is you. All I want is justice. I want to make things right and protect people and punish the things that prey on the weak. I’ve been trying so hard. I know I’m not the smartest… I’m not smart at all… and I know I’m not kind enough. But I’m trying.”

Silence. This one was long and painful. The moist earth on her knees started to remind her of the blood on the temple floor.

“Don’t put him in the Wall, either,” she whispered. “Or anyone. I know you don’t get to pick, but… isn’t there something I can do? Why should I even try protecting them now, if they’ll get a shit afterlife anyway?”

Shocked, she raised her hands to cover her mouth. Stupid, stupid! Don’t swear at gods!

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I just mean… this is one world, and life here is short for a lot of us. I can slay monsters all I want. It won’t do anything for the rest of forever.”

Silence.

“It gives people more time to change. I guess that’s something.” Tali bit her lip, frustrated. “None of it feels like enough, except for the things that seem like too much. For all I know, I’ve sent dozens of souls to the Wall. But… if that’s where they are, it’s not really my doing. The gods decide, not me.”

The buildings ended. Ahead of her was a wall, plain stone, nothing like the one ringing the city. Jumping up and dragging herself onto the top of it was easy; the untold hours she’d spent searching for a way to the tower had yet to fatigue her in any way. There were benefits to being bodiless.

Flat on her belly, Tali inched over to look down the other side. A broad courtyard extended between her and the base of the tower. She turned to gawk up at its majesty. From this close, she couldn’t begin to imagine its height. Her heart--or whatever passed for a heart in the chest of a spirit--pounded in anticipation of what she was about to do. She would trespass on a god’s domain to make demands of Kelemvor himself. And yet, she didn’t pause to reconsider; she had to. For them.

For him. Aradin, who had her promise of safety. She would not be proven false.

Tali swung her legs down. The wall was too smooth for footholds, so she’d have to drop. Fortunately, she was dead. Broken legs probably weren’t the risk they had been until recently.

She fell and landed in a crouch. The impact shook her to the bone--did she have bones?--but did not hurt. She straightened, feeling stronger than she had ever been, and turned towards the tower.

All she managed was one step.

An unseen, unnamed force seized her limbs and froze her in place, then began dragging her backwards. She fought to hold her ground, but already her feet were sliding backwards.

“Unhand me!” she cried. “I’m here for the Judge, not--not whatever you are!”

The invisible grasp was irresistible. It yanked her away from the tower.

“NO!” she shouted. The strength was gone from her, and all she could do was kick uselessly at the empty air. “I need to see him! I DEMAND to see him!”

She received no answer. The tower receded further and further from her, shrinking in her sight impossibly quickly. She realized with dread that she was being cast out of the city, but she couldn’t fathom her destination. She gave one final, futile scream of protest.

A crackling voice shook the air: “RISE.”

Tali gasped. She was back on her knees. Cold sweat beaded her forehead. She had been so close.

“What….” Her voice came out cracked and weak. She licked her lips. “What would have happened if I hadn’t been brought back? Do you think it would have worked?” She could answer that one for herself: “No. No, of course not. He’s a god. He couldn't waste his time on my complaints.”

Silence.

A new question occurred to Tali, and she hesitated, reluctant to give it voice. But if there was a time to ask, it was now, while the answers were flowing. “What do gods spend their time on? If mortals, angels, fiends, and all of the others are the ones who carry out your wills… what do you do?”

Silence.

Tali let it settle. She waited for any additional insights, be they her own or her god’s, but she received nothing else. The air was perfectly still. The interminable water rushed by.

She unclasped her hands to run them through the river. It numbed her fingers, a feeling she was increasingly accustomed to in this cursed land. The hollow feeling in her mind lingered, despite the significance of the answers she’d received. Nothing changed the image of Cleric Lisha in the middle of that grey street, handless and shocked to see her little girl in the city of death. Nothing changed the horror of the Wall.

Folly urged her back to the inn, into the abnegation offered by a strong drink and deep sleep. She should retreat from her questions, from these problems that had no solutions. They were too much for her.

Tali bowed her head low. She would not give in to the fear that wanted to forget, but it really was all too much. She couldn’t understand the gods or the afterlife. She didn’t have the intellect to grasp them or the experience to know what anything meant. She’d have to leave the dead to lie… including herself.

She picked herself up off the riverbank, brushed wet silt from her legs and tail, and gave the darkness a businesslike nod.

“I understand enough,” she declared. “I might not understand justice and righteousness, not as you would have me understand them. I don't think I can ever really get it while I'm so small and mortal. But I know my blade. I know the taste of blood, and I know a hundred different kinds of pain.” She pounded her fist on her heart-scar. “I know loyalty. I know death. I don’t need anything more.”

She tipped her head once more, a farewell to the emptiness. Then she retrieved her empty bottle, turned on her heel, and started back towards the inn. She would sleep, as if it was any other night. Then she would wake, as if it was any other morning. This Tali was alive, and she could not waste her attention and energy on the one that had been dead.

Chapter Text

A few days’ break had offered the group a measure of much-appreciated relief, but the disruption it represented was less welcome. Everyone had started to relax, and relaxation was the enemy. Lae’zel, Karlach, and Wyll had let their hair down to give it a deep, thorough wash and relieve their scalps of the tension of braids. Shadowheart had, as well, but she had been swift to tie it up again; she was loath to go without the Sharran symbol that held her long hair in place. The others had remained wild and loose until the final moment, enjoying their meager vacation to its fullest.

Unfortunately, that vacation was at its end.

Tali brushed out her dark hair, then put it up in a bun so it wouldn’t get snagged as she donned her armor. Behind her, the tent flap shifted, and a heavy hand patted her on the back.

“Hey, soldier,” Karlach said. “Trying a new style?”

Tali looked over her shoulder and smiled briefly. “No. Just keeping it out of the way.”

The bigger tiefling was still in her casual clothes. Given her scarred, calloused skin and the heat she radiated, armor was both less necessary and less convenient for her than for others, but she preferred her leathers and hides for adventuring. She was late getting changed.

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel cursed from the other end of the tent. She was struggling with her half-done braids. “There you are. It is time I rebuke you for your insolent deception.”

Karlach shrugged. “All you ever asked for was the time, not the date.”

The githyanki scowled. “You misled me. Without proper timekeeping, how is one to tell day from night in this dismal place?”

“It’s called a body clock.”

“It makes sense that you’d find it less intuitive,” Tali added. “I’m sure spending most of your life outside of Faerun makes for a very different sense of time.”

Lae’zel tossed her head. “I was misled.”

“Sorry. Won’t do it again.” Karlach’s grin said she absolutely would.

Tali put on her armor as quickly as she could. With Ketheric's pet necromancer gone, there was no particular rush to leave, but the fire in her mind had gradually built back up over the last few days. It was loud enough now, crackling and growling, to almost overtake the constant hum of the tadpole. She was eager to be out there again, fighting the cult. She was more eager still to discover the Nightsong.

“I’m ready,” she said, fitting Dammon’s specially-designed helmet over her horns. She nodded to Lae’zel and Karlach. “Do you need anything?”

Karlach rolled her shoulders, readjusting to her leathers. “I think I’m good, soldier. Thanks.”

Lae’zel nodded curtly. “We shall meet you at the staging ground.”

“It’s a fountain,” Karlach said.

“Tch. Whatever its original purpose, this is a warcamp now.”

“True enough,” Tali said, and she took up her halberd and left.

As she walked out into the same endlessly chill night and endlessly patrolling soldiers, Tali clenched her teeth. She hated this place. She couldn’t wait to see the sunlight again. She strode into the open courtyard, tipped her head back, and held a middle finger up heavenward.

“Who is that for?”

Tali turned to find Shadowheart already waiting by Last Light’s inert fountain, sitting with her knees crossed on a crumbling crate. Beyond her, Wyll spoke with the inn’s resident quartermaster, probably bartering for extra bolts or potions.

“For the shadow curse,” Tali said, lowering her arm and relieving it of her obscene gesture.

Shadowheart chuckled dryly. “Yes, a middle finger will banish it. Why didn’t Halsin consider that?”

“I don’t think it’ll do anything. I’m just being angry.” Tali sat down on the lip of the stone fountain. “I’ll be glad to help him get rid of it.”

“Yes,” the cleric said hesitantly. “That… will be good.”

Tali raised an eyebrow. “Are you worried?”

“About what?”

“Blasphemy. If Ketheric Thorm brought it to bear as an expression of Shar’s will and power--"

“Lady Shar,” Shadowheart corrected. She sighed. “Yes, the thought crossed my mind. But considering the fact that he has used the curse to harbor the cult of a false god, I think it’s fine to remove it.”

“That’s sensible.”

“I hope so.” The half-elf sighed again, more heavily.

Tali gazed at her thoughtfully. Bits and pieces of her short afterlife had continued to flow to her since revivification, but none had assuaged her discomforts. Although she claimed, in word and in her own heart, to know her place, she retained lingering doubts. The Falseness of Cleric Lisha and the desperate figures in the Wall of the Faithless continued to shake her well after she’d left them behind. She wondered if this terrible curse had invited Shadowheart to start questioning her own faith.

She didn’t dare ask, though. She knew how important Shar was to Shadowheart and that any outside pressure might push her deeper into the darkness of her own complacency, away from any questions she had yet to grapple with. So she held her tongue. Bit by bit, she was getting better at that.

Wyll walked over, one of his hands trailing an elegant swath of cloth. It looked like a cloak, heavy and warm, with red silk accents. He made eye contact with Tali and held it out towards her. “You join us at last! May I?”

Tali stood. “May you what?”

“Affix this fine cape.”

“I don’t think I need a cape. It looks very fine, but I worry I’d trip over it or catch it with the haft of my halberd. Perhaps you should have it.”

Wyll wagged a finger at her. “This isn’t for style, Tali. It’s a cloak of protection.”

“Ah.” She paused. “Is it because I died?”

“Of course. We can’t have that happening too often.” He held it out. “Will you at least try it on?”

Tali compliantly bowed her head, and he swung the cape over her back. After pinning it to her shoulders by its embroidered corners, he stepped back to admire it. Tali stood up straight and turned in an uncertain circle. Already she felt her tail slapping against the cape with every movement. It would take some getting used to.

“Blue and red do suit you,” a new voice remarked. Tali glanced at the inn’s entryway, where Gale stood struggling with several backpacks and pouches.

Shadowheart shook her head at the wizard. “Do you need all of those?”

“We do, in fact. Two spellbooks, a newly-filled pouch of components, some fresh-brewed potions, and emergency scrolls. Consider us particularly well-prepared.”

As Wyll moved to help Gale carry his gear, Shadowheart leaned over to Tali.

“I’d say he squandered his break working on all of that,” she said in a low voice, “but I suspect working is how he rests.”

Tali nodded. A moment later, Karlach and Lae’zel emerged from the tent, hair braided and armor donned, and joined Tali and Shadowheart by the fountain.

Karlach touched the cloak of protection. “Hey, this is nice! Where’d you get it?”

“Wyll bought it,” Tali replied, “so I don’t die again.”

“Aw, that’s nice of him. What do I have to do for him to buy me a new battleaxe?”

“He is so pliable and cooperative, he would not require much persuading,” Lae’zel muttered. “It might be enough to say please.”

Shadowheart tipped her head. “‘Please’? Are you sure you’re not becoming too accustomed to us istik, Lae’zel?”

Lae’zel wrinkled her short nose in distaste. “Your pronunciation offends the ear.”

Tali smiled. Their differences had long since ceased to threaten actual violence and had instead become an amusing rivalry. Perhaps, after the fall of the Absolute, they would part ways as friends. She hoped so; she was fond of both of them.

In fact, she was fond of all of them. The last few days had been delightful with all the time they had spent together. She wondered if it was because everything had felt better since her death--except the things that felt worse--or if it was some other change she hadn’t yet identified. Whatever the cause, she felt closer to this small band than she ever had before.

This must be friendship, she thought. When was the last time she’d had normal friends? It dismayed her to think of how long she’d been alone.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

The three women around her gave her questioning looks.

“I was standoffish before. And it made me dishonest where I shouldn’t have been.” She looked into each of their faces with earnestness. “It pleases me to travel and fight with you all.”

“Dishonest?” Karlach’s jaw worked as she thought. Tali’s heart shrank, ashamed, but before the other tiefling could decipher what she meant, Gale interjected.

“I hope that’s not a rehearsal for your next untimely demise,” he said, joining the group with Wyll close behind. The wizard hoisted a rattling bag of bottles. “I made sure to pack a few extra healing potions, in case of future incidents.”

Lae’zel frowned. “Potions would have done little against the necromancer’s magic that we could not already do ourselves.”

“No, but we’ve already killed the necromancer. I’m looking to the future. We still have to get through Reithwin, and, well, let’s say I’m not eager to face that thing in the tollhouse without a few extra tricks up my sleeve.”

“What thing?” Tali asked.

“There’s this monster running around the tollhouse, looks like it's all made of gold,” Karlach said. “We ran past it on our way out of town. We’ll probably have to fight it on our way back in.”

“Unless we want to cross over farther downriver,” Wyll said with a grimace, “and pass by Moonrise to make our approach from the south.”

“We’ve caused enough drama in that area,” Shadowheart said. “I’d rather fight a monster than tread too close to the seat of the Absolute.”

“The tollhouse is the most direct route to return to the mausoleum,” Lae’zel said, nodding her agreement.

“And the House of Healing,” Gale said. “Did everyone get Halsin’s information about Fist Art Cullagh’s assignment?”

Everyone nodded.

Karlach frowned. “Do we even know what to look for?”

“Not specifically,” Gale said, “but I have a feeling we’ll know it when we see it. It could be a Flaming Fist insignia, or some personal possession long since left behind, or a mysterious shade springing into existence to offer information in exchange for a game of riddles. Whatever it is, I doubt it will look much at home in a medical facility.”

“It could be a waste of time,” Lae’zel murmured. “There could be nothing!”

“It’s our best lead,” Tali said. “I’m sick enough of this curse that I think we should investigate the House. In fact, I think we should go there first.” She irritated herself by saying it. She wanted to cut a path straight to the Nightsong.

“Sounds good to me,” Karlach said. “The sooner we get rid of this curse, the better, yeah? Then all these people won’t be pinned down here at the inn, and that poor cleric up there can get a few winks.”

“Exactly.”

Wyll agreed, then Gale, and then, after some hesitation, Shadowheart and Lae’zel.

“We have a plan, then,” Tali said. “Let’s make this a shorter trip than our last one.”

“Followed by less idleness,” Lae’zel murmured. She shot Karlach a pointed look. Karlach seemed not to notice.

“Then we should be off,” Gale said. “Have we all eaten breakfast? Yes? Good. Then let’s not waste daylight… so to speak.” He gestured vaguely at the black vault overhead.

With Wyll and Karlach at the head and Shadowheart trailing behind to watch their rear, the party started towards the bridge away from the inn. From atop a high stone outcropping, a Harper scout looked down at the party and nodded them a polite farewell. Tali returned the gesture.

“Hey.”

She drew her eyes back downward to find another figure, not a Harper or a Fist, at the base of the outcropping. Aradin. Tali’s tail swished. Had he come to see her off again? She’d be more careful with her words this time.

He stepped forward to greet the party, and Tali frowned; his attention was on Wyll and Karlach, not Tali. He wouldn’t have dared address them directly had he known Wyll was an actual devil.

She narrowed her eyes. Something else was strange about this. He was dressed in a breastplate and heavy boots, and at his hip hung a sword. He was prepared for a fight.

“Hey!” Karlach said brightly. “You’re that merc. Aradin, right?”

Aradin stood back and eyed her with open suspicion. Tali sighed through her nose. At least she could be glad that, by now, his wariness was probably more due to her large size and overwhelming vivacity than her horns and tail. He was surely too desensitized to tieflings to care much. At least, she hoped he was.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s me. Got room for an extra sword?”

“What?” Tali said, stepping forward. “Don’t tell me you want to come with us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“The more the merrier, I say,” Karlach said brightly. “There’s enough monsters out there for everyone to take a few heads home.”

“That’s the problem,” Tali said. She gave Aradin a stern look. “You should stay with your people. It’s safest here.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t start adventuring to be safe. ‘Sides, someone’s gotta stop you from getting killed.”

Tali gestured towards the rest of her companions. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going alone. These fine people are formidable enough.”

Lae’zel looked at Aradin with a malicious gleam in her eyes. “Perhaps we should take him, Retaliation. He’ll be another body between you and our enemies’ blades.”

That earned her disapproving looks from everyone. Wyll turned to Aradin with an apologetic smile and opened his mouth to speak, but Shadowheart beat him to it.

“Your ‘formidable’ allies had to drag your dead body for two days to save you,” the cleric pointed out to Tali, “yet you survived the depths of Moonrise Towers with remarkable ease. If nothing else, he’s a lucky charm.”

Wyll sighed. “And a fighter of some ability, surely. We don’t use our allies as meat shields or accessories.”

“But we can’t guarantee our allies safety,” Tali said, “especially in the shadow curse. Anyone who crosses that bridge is in danger. Stay.”

“You dismiss him too hastily,” Gale chided. “Everyone here knows the risks of the curse, and we are fortunate enough to have protective measures against the worst of its influence. Our tiny fey friend is a boon we can share, surely.”

Aradin raised his eyebrows. “A fey? Sounds useful.”

“No!” Tali exclaimed. “You’ve already had your dose of pixie dust. I am not summoning that uncouth creature again.”

“If that’s the case and he’s already protected, I don’t see any reason for him not to join,” Shadowheart said.

Aradin held his hands up. “Nah, it’s alright. Seems like your leader don’t want me around.”

“I’m not the leader,” Tali said.

“That so?” He looked between the rest of her companions, to her annoyance.

“As I see it, anyone willing to raise a blade against the horrors of the dark is an ally worth having,” Wyll said. “I remember how you fought to protect your people at the gate to the Emerald Grove. I would gladly welcome you.”

“Ditto,” Karlach said.

“I think you could be useful,” Shadowheart said. “If you’re not inclined to cause any trouble, then I’m not inclined to turn you away.”

“We worked rather well together at Moonhaven,” Gale said. “It’d be foolish to oppose another alliance, and there is safety in numbers. Another competent sword arm is a valuable offer.”

“Competent,” Lae’zel repeated with a scoff. “I’ll go as far as functional, but a functional tool is still a tool.”

Aradin shot Tali a smug smirk. “We got a majority.”

“I have not spoken in favor,” Lae’zel said. She side-eyed Tali. “We should take him, but only if he will not become a distraction.”

Tali was aghast at the suggestion. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Which part is ridiculous?”

“All of it!” Tali threw up her free hand, exasperated. “Look, just--give me a moment.” She wound her way to the front of the group, grabbed Aradin by the elbow, and pulled him aside.

Aradin didn’t bother lowering his voice. “Your friends’re an awful lot nicer than you.”

“I know,” Tali hissed. She quieted to a whisper. “We’re not going directly after the Nightsong. This excursion is for something else.”

“That don’t change my mind.”

“And why not?” Tali narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to curry favor with the skeleton?”

“The what?”

“The thing that brought me back from the dead. Are you looking for insurance for yourself? For your crew?”

“So what if I am?”

Tali gave him a long, hard stare.

He huffed. “Nah. I’m not. Fact is, you died. You’re in deep shite. You need help.”

“I have help.”

“They wasn’t enough last time.”

“Last time was a unique situation. We were fighting a necromancer and a small army of the undead. Now that he’s gone--”

“Points,” Aradin interrupted, “your lot’s fighting a new god. Don’t get cocky.”

“Cocky?” She scoffed. “And what makes you think you’re going to make the difference?”

He looked at her reproachfully.

“You’re so insistent,” she pressed. “Why? It doesn’t seem like you to choose the hard option.”

His glare darkened. “I got plenty of reasons to.”

“And what would those be? It is my duty to protect you, not the other way around. Remember?”

“Like you’d let me forget,” he said sourly. “You do this to Tyr, too?”

At the mention of the god, a new wave of helplessness washed over her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and the discomfort reminded her to watch her words--and her thoughts. She fidgeted nervously. “Do what?”

“Lord it over him.”

“I would never-–”

“Then quit doing it to me. Being a paladin don’t make you any better than the rest of us.”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t. Your bowing and promising ain’t nothing. It don’t let you tell me what to do or where to be.”

“I--I’m not,” Tali stammered. Her face grew warm with shame as she struggled to find an argument. “But… but you need to stay safe. If you die, my oath is broken.”

Aradin snapped his fingers. “There it is. All about you.”

Tali furrowed her brow. “I’m a paladin. None of it is about me.”

“Are you a liar, or just stupid?” He shook his head. “Much as I appreciate you pulling me and my boys out of Moonrise, you didn’t do that for us. You did it ‘cause you’re crazy. Maybe you thought saving a few more poor folks might make up for whatever you're sweeping under the rug.”

The heat in Tali’s cheeks turned from shame to indignation. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“Same with your promise to keep my boys safe,” Aradin continued, as if he didn’t hear her. “That ain’t for us. It’s all to make you feel better about yourself.”

“I’m making up for my mistakes.”

He waved his hand. “Same thing. Whatever you call it, it’s selfish. Stop pretending it ain’t.”

“It is not,” Tali protested. “You have no idea what I’ve lost and sacrificed. You’re wrong.”

Aradin took a step forward, and Tali gave him a warning glare. But his stance wasn’t confrontational. He smiled wryly and hooked a finger under her pauldron.

“Then why’s it getting under your skin?”

Tali grabbed his wrist, but before she could force his arm away, he withdrew it willingly. Her hand fell to her side, balled into an impotent fist.

“If that’s what you think,” she said, voice taut, “if I’m such a selfish bastard, then why are you so keen to join me?”

“I’m a selfish bastard.” He shrugged. “Like and like, yeah?”

Tali scowled at his unseriousness. “You’re looking to prove something to me,” she said accusingly.

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t believe in impossible things. Can’t prove nothing to a stubborn ass.”

“Do you think insulting me will change my mind?”

“Nah, but nothing else will. You won’t change it ‘less you want to.”

“That’s true of everyone.”

“See? We got so much in common,” Aradin said dryly. “So can we go?”

Sighing through her nose, Tali glanced over her shoulder. Her tadpoled comrades waited by the bridge in varying states of attentiveness. Karlach and Gale watched her expectantly, Wyll and Shadowheart spoke among themselves, and Lae’zel tapped her foot in impatience. Tali wondered how much they had heard. She turned back to Aradin.

“I don’t see you turning anyone else away,” he pointed out. He smirked. “I did ask nicely.”

A jolt of panic coursed through Tali. He did remember, and now he was using her words against her.

“I don’t care,” she said hastily. “If you go out there with us… gods only know what could happen.”

“But you’ll watch my back.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Tali sighed and rubbed her forehead. The metal of her gauntlet was ice-cold, and she felt the heat of frustration withdraw. Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself. She took a deep breath and admitted defeat. “Fine. My companions agreed to bring you. You can come.”

“How generous.”

Aradin brushed past her and walked toward the rest of the party. He held himself high, clearly pleased with his verbal victory. He would be trouble. She stifled a sigh of annoyance, turned stiffly, and followed.

Chapter Text

The group approached the bridge to the tollhouse warily, watching every twisting bole and jagged chasm so no danger would catch them by surprise. It seemed fortune had finally decided to favor them, since the path from Last Light to Reithwin had let them pass safely. The path ahead was the treacherous one.

Broken flagstones paved the bridge. The building on the other side might have once towered over this stretch of river, but the cursed overgrowth surrounding it made it look small and ramshackle by comparison. The wind blowing through its gaping, glassless windows created a low, eerie whistle. Shadows danced in its cavernous interior.

Before the party could get close enough to make out details, Lae'zel halted everyone with a raised hand.

“I will investigate,” she murmured. “The creature may have gathered allies to prevent another escape.”

Gale nodded, unslung his backpack, and passed her a fresh potion of invisibility.

“Hope those aren't addictive,” Karlach joked. “Or we might have to talk about your drinking problem.”

Lae'zel cast Karlach a disapproving glance before she uncorked the potion, downed it, and vanished. Her footprints dotted the ancient leaf-litter for a few paces until she reached the stone bridge, and after that there was no sign of her.

As Gale closed his hefty potion bag, Aradin watched him closely, and Tali watched Aradin. She hadn't considered until a few hours into their journey that he might try to steal from her companions. Under different circumstances, she'd trust that his self-preservation instinct would outweigh his greed, but he might try to take advantage of her promise to protect him to avoid untoward consequences. If he thought that would work, he was mistaken.

It counts as arriving safely in the Gate if he arrives bound and gagged, Tali thought. The image stirred a strange satisfaction in her.

She looked away from the mercenary before anyone else could notice her attention. To distract herself, she eyed her surroundings; it was never too late for an ambush. The land kept up its cacophony of distant howls, but nothing moved except shuddering trees.

After several long minutes, the air spoke.

“The golden creature paces the upper floor,” it said in Lae'zel’s voice.

Wyll jumped, then put a hand over his heart and chuckled nervously. “Gods. I didn't hear you coming.”

“No one does,” Lae'zel’s voice said.

Karlach looked around. “And? What's the golden monster got?”

“It carries no visible weapon,” the invisible gith replied, “and coins fall from it like tears.”

“Coins?” Aradin said. Tali rolled her eyes.

“Yes. And it is not alone.” The air rippled, and Lae’zel finally reappeared. “Several undead creatures accompany it, skulls which murmur to themselves like madmen.”

“Thank you,” Gale said. He beamed at the rest of the party. “You know, until a month ago, I wouldn't have called a derelict husk full of undead ‘good news.’ It's remarkable how much a cleric and a paladin can change one's adventuring attitude.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Karlach flexed her biceps. “Give yourself some credit, too. The lot of us are an undead-killing machine!”

Tali ran her thumb along the haft of her halberd. She ought to be an undead-killing machine, but her most recent combat encounter hadn't spoken well of her. She let her eyes wander back to Aradin and found him looking at her pointedly. She quickly turned away.

“A direct approach may be the most productive one,” Wyll said.

Gale nodded. “We send in Karlach, Shadowheart, and Tali to attract the creatures' attention.”

Aradin cleared his throat.

The wizard nodded towards him. “And Aradin. This gold-clad creature and its minions will focus on your group. When they approach, Shadowheart raises aloft her holy symbol and turns them.”

The cleric nodded. “Then you, Wyll, and Lae'zel take advantage of the golden one's isolation. Kill it as quickly as possible.”

“And if that don’t work?” Aradin said. “I mean, they could be strong. What if your magic don't do as much as you want?”

Tali opened her mouth to respond, but Gale beat her to it.

“Then we scrum as chaotically as we're accustomed to,” he said. “Wyll and I will maintain our distance. I have prepared some defensive magic that should serve everyone well.”

“Good,” Tali said. “Then if things start to look bad, you and Shadowheart focus on keeping everyone alive while we retreat. If it turns to disaster, we regroup at the old warehouse by the broken bridge.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

“Where the buggers with the ropes was,” Aradin said.

“That's the one,” Tali confirmed. “There. Now we have a fallback position.”

Around her, the others nodded their understanding.

“Falling back?” Aradin said dryly. “Don’t seem like your style, if I’m ‘membering right.”

Tali didn’t muster a scowl for him. She fidgeted, holding her halberd closer to her side. “Dying teaches a lesson I hope I only have to learn once.”

“It won't come to that,” Wyll said. With a flash of fire, a slender blade appeared in his hand. “Let us begin.”

Tali took point across the bridge. As soon as the group reached the other side, Wyll, Gale, and Lae’zel broke away. They hugged the building's crumbling walls and inched towards open windows. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Aradin grouped up behind Tali at the yawning doorway.

She glanced back at the three and tried to hide her unease. Her blood should have been hot in anticipation of violence, but it wasn't. The fire crackled inside her, but there was no passion in it. Only necessity.

“Fiat lux,” she said, igniting a blue flame in her hand to illuminate the gloom. “Is everyone ready?”

Shadowheart tapped the holy symbol on her breastplate, and Karlach readied her axe with an eager smile.

“Are you?” Aradin replied. It sounded like an accusation.

Tali hunched her shoulders. “Always.” She faced the darkness of the tollhouse and stepped in.

Immediately her divine sense cried out: UNDEAD! UNDEAD! UNDEAD! Minor presences dotted the whole building, and one, much larger and stronger, pulsed somewhere above her. She took the next few steps quickly, peering into the swirling shadows in search of monsters.

But the tollhouse looked empty. The stone tiles making up much of the floor were cracked into a formless mosaic, and black roots sprang up among them and wound through the rest of the building. The upper level’s wooden floor had been broken through in some places, rotted in others. Gaping holes in the roof above let in even more darkness.

Something clinked, like armor or chains. Footsteps creaked along the upper floor. At a flash of movement, Tali sprang back, brandishing her halberd. But it wasn't a creature. A small, shiny object fell from above and clattered to the floor.

Aradin stepped forward, bent down, and picked it up. It caught the light. A gold coin.

The largest undead presence surged closer in Tali's mind. “Get back!” she barked.

Aradin slunk back behind her. The creature came into sight through a gap in the floorboards overhead, humanoid in shape but enormous. It was coated in brilliant metallic armor without buckles or straps: an irremovable shell for its owner. A grotesque face peered down, and as Tali’s firelight swept across, it shone as brightly as the rest of the armor. A mask. She couldn’t make out its eyes through the black slits.

Tali clutched her halberd with both hands. She hoped Gale, Wyll, and Lae’zel were in position.

The floorboards creaked and strained as the monster took two powerful strides forward, then jumped. It fell through one of the larger holes in the floor and landed in front of Tali’s group. Where its feet hit the tiles, stone buckled. Gleaming flecks flew from its body and scattered around it.

“It’s wearing gold,” Aradin breathed. “Waukeen’d be jealous.”

“Gold is heavy,” Shadowheart said. “That armor will slow it down.”

The cleric was right. It took a weighty step forward, dragging its foot, and the weight of its body seemed to press it down into the stone. It held out a hand clad in a clawed gauntlet. Its mask remained impassive as an imperious female voice rang out from behind it.

“I require gold,” it declared. The hand moved in a grabbing gesture.

“Don’t we all,” Aradin remarked.

The creature’s head turned sharply towards him, and Tali threw out an arm to keep him back. She wasn’t about to let him lead the encounter.

“You seem to have enough,” she said to the monster.

It bent down to match her eye level. “The gold is not for me. The gold is for the toll. I collect the toll. I collect the gold.”

As she spoke, Tali looked around. She couldn’t see any of the skulls Lae’zel had mentioned, but the insistent buzzing in the back of her mind told her they were nearby. For the sake of the plan, she wanted to give them a chance to close in.

She lifted her chin at the gold-covered monster. “With what authority?”

“I am Gerringothe Thorm. I collect with Ketheric Thorm’s authority.” She extended her arm again. “Gold.”

“You work for Ketheric?”

“Gold! Now!”

Tali took one more look around the room. The smaller presences she sensed refused to move any closer. The plan would have to change.

She shook her head. “That’s all I need to know.”

She darted forward, aiming for the narrow gap between the creature’s breastplate and gorget. Gerringothe staggered away to avoid the blow, but too slowly; the halberd struck her just below the shoulder. The soft metal buckled.

As Tali stepped back to wind up for another swing, her companions ran past her. Aradin went low, Karlach went high, and the gleaming monster held up her arms to ward off the sudden onslaught. Echoes of metal clanging on metal filled the air.

Tali's eyes darted back and forth. They’ll be joining the fray any moment now, and Shadowheart will take care of them. But the skulls were still not forthcoming, though she had expected them to come to the tollhouse keeper’s defense. That made her anxious. She wasn't supposed to be anxious.

“ENOUGH!” Gerringothe shouted. Her heavy head swung back and forth, scanning her assailants. She thrust her hands towards Aradin and twisted them. It wasn't any spell Tali recognized, and for a split second, nothing seemed to happen. There was no flash of light, no elemental burst, no word of power.

Then the coin pouch at his side split open. Coins poured from it and flew through the air, turning on their owner like a biting swarm. He ducked, but there were too many moving too quickly. They slashed his sleeves and scored his armor, and any exposed skin was soon crisscrossed with tiny cuts.

As Aradin staggered back, the animated coins fell to the ground around him with a sound like a hundred windchimes in a storm. Tali took one step towards him, then looked back at the gold-clad monster.

Shadowheart and Karlach were closing in. The barbarian swung her axe in relentless arcs, pushing Gerringothe back. Shadowheart shouted words of magic, and the creature stumbled as she tried to evade the flashes of sacred flame threatening to burn her flesh. Together they forced her onto the defensive. They’d bought a moment. Tali rushed to Aradin.

His eyes were on the creature, and he adjusted his grip on his sword. The wounds didn't look dire, but at a swift glance, Tali saw blood slicking his hilt. She reached for him, drawing on her oath-born magic.

“Here,” she said urgently.

He shrugged her off. “Kill it,” he hissed.

“But--"

Before Tali had a chance to heal him, he pushed past her to get back to Gerringothe. She clenched her jaw, but he hadn't left her room to argue. She, too, turned to Gerringothe, braced herself, and charged.

The point of her halberd should have run right through the soft gold, but it seemed only to leave another dent. Likewise, Karlach’s battleaxe--which Tali had seen her sharpening just that morning--bent pieces of the armor without slicing through. Tali backed up and dove in for another strike, then another, and another, only to be answered each time with a dull, disappointing thunk. At this rate, it would take an exhaustingly long time to kill the undead monstrosity.

As she fought, she kept her eyes moving, never fully focused on her target. She can hurt us with our own money. She wasn’t carrying any, so she was safe unless she crossed the pile of them on the ground. But the others were not. And she still hadn’t seen the skull-creatures.

Gerringothe flailed her arms in wide sweeps, grabbing at her opponents with talon-like hands. Shadowheart raised her shield to keep the golden claws from raking her skin. Karlach didn’t dodge in time, and three bloody gashes opened up on her upper arm. Fire burst from the wound, and Gerringothe recoiled, lightly singed.

Taking advantage of her preoccupation, Aradin slid behind her, where her arms could not reach. He hacked savagely at the creature’s back, once, twice, thrice, and again. Each hit rang out harshly, and a few coins clattered to the ground.

Gerringothe let out a snarl of frustration and whipped around, swinging widely. Aradin raised an arm to protect his face. The impact slammed the back of his hand into his shoulder and pushed him back. He lost his steady footing. Gerringothe raised her arms.

Now her back was to Tali. She could see the damaged section of the glittering breastplate where Aradin had cut into it. She aimed and lunged.

She called on the divine fire smoldering within her, fanning its lazy embers to a blaze. Heat ran along the halberd and lit up the blade. And finally, she cracked through the coin cuirass and sank her weapon into flesh.

Gerringothe arched her back and howled as bright red fire lapped up her back. She backed up towards Tali, flailing her arms to put the flames out. Tali hurried out of the way to avoid being trampled.

Keep spreading, she urged the fire, fanning the magical fire with the one within. Burn her.

A smooth coin slid out from beneath her boot, and she tripped. Her tail lashed, and she threw out her other leg to catch herself. She stabilized, but too slowly. As she turned about to face Gerringothe again, the creature was already in motion for another attack.

Gerringothe thrust a hand towards Tali, and Tali called on her oath magic to protect her from whatever strange new spell the creature had in store. But it wasn’t a spell. Instead, part of the creature’s gauntlet unfurled and formed a glimmering chain. The golden whip snaked through the air with alarming speed and caught Tali in the side, almost knocking her to the ground. The whip coiled around her and jerked her forward.

As it let go, she swayed and struggled to regain her balance. Her focus flickered, and the fire she’d left burning on Gerringothe’s back went out.

Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of movement alerted her to the monster’s next attack. She raised her halberd and blocked with the haft. The shock that ran through her arms told her just how heavy the creature was.

“Tali!”

She raised her eyes. On the upper level, Wyll stood with his arm outstretched, pointing urgently. She tried to follow his finger, but Gerringothe clawed at her again. She had to focus on defending herself.

“What?” she said, her voice tight and breathless. Metal scraped on metal as she parried another blow.

“The skulls!” Wyll called. “They’re coming to you!”

Tali clenched her teeth. Of course they come now. “I’ll take care of them.”

She stepped into Gerringothe’s next attack, caught it again on the haft of her halberd, and twisted to hook the monster’s wrist. She yanked, and despite the armor’s enormous mass, Gerringothe staggered. Tali shoved her to the side and took two quick paces back, making some space for herself. Cold sweat ran down her face and back. She turned about, looking for the skulls.

She found one almost immediately. It came hurtling down a dark hallway and into the room, mouth agape, trailing a faint and sickly light. It was much larger than an ordinary humanoid skull, and the air passing through its hanging jaw made a horrible shriek.

The sound pierced Tali’s ears and rattled her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head vigorously to dispel the sound. She held her halberd up for an overhand swing and stepped forward to meet the skull.

It lunged as if to bite her, and she swerved aside. Instead of her arm, it chomped down on her blade. She fueled the strike with a burst of radiant energy. Light engulfed it. The radiance spread, and the skull turned to glowing ash.

Behind her sounded a howl and a massive clamor, as of hundreds of coins pouring to the ground at once. Tali turned. Gerringothe was recoiling away from Karlach, pulling an arm out of the barbarian’s reach. The arm was bare, grey, and scrawny. Against the rest of Gerringothe’s bulk, the withered limb stuck out like a dry tree branch. At her feet was a heap of gold coins, some still spinning and rolling--the remains of a gauntlet.

“Good work!” Tali called as she rushed back towards Gerringothe. If they could damage the armor enough, they could kill her… or at least carve her apart until she couldn’t fight. It would take time, but this was progress.

Karlach glanced at her. Sweat-slicked hair framed a confused expression. “That wasn’t me!”

“It just came off,” Shadowheart added.

“It was you!” Wyll shouted down. “Tali, the skulls! The skulls control the armor!”

Tali stopped short of the melee with Gerringothe. Aradin, Karlach, and Shadowheart had the creature’s attention. She looked each of her three comrades over, dismayed to see blood on all of them. She took a breath.

They can handle themselves, she told herself. Concentrate.

She turned and sought another skull. From their vantage points elsewhere in the building, Gale and Lae’zel had probably been attacking them, softening them up for the paladin. A few well-placed divine smites would finish them and leave their mistress vulnerable.

Her eyes landed on her next target blessedly quickly. It hovered in a dark corner, barely visible, creeping closer to the fight. It probably thought--if it could think--that it would come to Gerringothe’s aid by stealth.

It was wrong.

Tali raced to the skull. Her feet flew over jutting roots and tile edges. When it realized it had been seen, the skull sped up, trying to get past her. She leaped into its path and drove her halberd into its eye socket, pouring yet more divine magic into it. It let out a final piercing scream and burned away like the first.

Cringing at the noise, Tali looked back at Gerringothe to see if Wyll’s theory would prove true. It did. Gerringothe’s other gauntlet burst into pieces and rained down around her. She wailed unintelligibly.

Only another gauntlet? Tali thought with annoyance. She wanted to lay bare the creature’s heart. Gods, give me another.

The skulls seemed to shriek as they moved, so perhaps she could track them by sound as well as divine sense. She listened attentively for any sign of them amidst the scraping and rattling and ringing that filled the building with metallic echoes.

The grey air was so still and empty that she couldn’t hear anything over her own breathing. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, but all her senses felt dampened. She could barely feel her clothes against her skin.

At least her divine sense couldn’t pick anything up. That was good; in a land as desolate as this, she had entertained the possibility that she was alone on desecrated ground.

But desecrated or not, there could still be unseen dangers in the area, and she was without a weapon. She opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and--

“Points!”

Tali lurched as Aradin’s voice yanked her from the vision. She turned, ready to run to his aid. But before she could fling herself back into Gerringothe’s reach--to heal him, or to cover his retreat, whatever he needed--she realized he wasn’t in immediate need. In fact, he’d pulled himself out of the melee and was coming straight towards her.

“There!” he shouted, pointing past her head.

Tali circled back around. A skull drifted down through one of the larger holes in the upper floor.

She started towards it. With each step she picked up speed, leveling her halberd at its gaping mouth. True though her aim was, momentum was her enemy. The skull danced out of her way, and she charged right past it. She stopped, spun, and swung back around. The halberd clipped the edge of the skull, sending a sliver of bone flying. The damage was only superficial. It shot past her before she could land a solid hit.

She moved to pursue it, but Aradin intercepted it first. He drove his sword into its side where the mandible met the rest of the skull. The screaming paused, and it jerked hard to free itself from the blade. Aradin swung again, and it turned baleful eye sockets on him.

Its scream turned into a low whistle as it closed the short distance between them. Aradin tried to block with the sword, but the skull was not aiming for the vitals he was protecting. It bit down on his right arm.

He cried out in pain. “Gah! Points!”

Tali rushed towards him. As Aradin tried to escape its jaws, it adjusted its grip, gnawing deeper into his arm. Blood dripped to the floor.

The skull dislodged an instant before Tali reached them, but its escape attempt was not swift enough. With an underhand swing, Tali struck it on the chin. She drew on her oath magic to impart force into the strike.

The skull was blasted away from her, trailing bone-dust in its path. It started to right itself. Switching his sword to his left hand, Aradin stepped forward and finished the creature with a final, decisive thrust. It fell to the ground and shattered.

The sound of scattering bone was echoed a moment later by the clatter of hundreds more coins hitting the ground. Tali looked. Gerringothe had lost a cuisse, exposing a bone-thin leg, and now struggled to support her cumbersome body. Karlach saw the opening and hacked savagely at Gerringothe’s gnarled knee. Gerringothe clumsily limped away from the barbarian, only to find itself in a wizard’s sights. A firebolt flashed on her mask, and she flinched away.

Tali snarled. They were still wearing her down too slowly.

Behind her, Aradin’s voice drew her attention. “You’re losing your touch,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Am I?” she said. Her voice sounded thin and breathless, even to her own ears. She cleared her throat. “How bad is it?”

Aradin wordlessly proffered his right arm. The oversized skull’s teeth had torn through cloth, leather, skin, and muscle. In the flickering light, it was hard to tell where torn clothes ended and mangled flesh began. Tali winced. When her hand landed on his shoulder, light flowed from her hand down his arm, and the wounds closed like a row of red, toothless mouths. Aradin shuddered and looked away.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Tali chided. She gave him a light push towards Gerringothe. “She’s weakening. Keep her on the defensive. We’ll have her soon.”

He opened his mouth, ready to argue.

“Detono!” Gale’s incantation rang out from the upper floor, and the air shook with a thunderclap. A moment later, Gerringothe’s second cuisse burst asunder.

Karlach brought her axe down on the creature’s foot, cutting deep. But Gerringothe still did not topple.

“The breastplate!” Shadowheart called out. “Break her breastplate!”

Tali exchanged a look with Aradin and understood his unspoken suggestion: she needed help. If she lost focus or wandered to the Fugue again, someone had to pick up the slack.

He tossed his sword back to the right hand. “Where’s the next one?”

Tali concentrated hard. If these skulls were objects, not undead creatures, she could have used more specific divination to find them, the way she’d located Barth by his borrowed sword. Instead, she had to rely on her twitchy and imprecise senses.

Above her stood the devil Wyll, fiery against the cold of the unholy land, and behind her still loomed Gerringothe’s undead bulk, none diminished. Only two more presences appeared to her mind’s eye. One was on the second storey and some distance ahead of her. The second was even further above that, probably outside the tollhouse.

“Two,” she reported. “The nearest is up. Southwest corner.”

Aradin looked around. He pointed. “Stairs.”

The staircase he identified was beyond rickety. It looked like it had rotted and been eaten away for decades, and a thick dark trunk grew up through it. Tali didn’t know if it would bear the weight of plate armor.

She waved Aradin towards the stairs. “You go. I’ll find the last one.”

As he ran to the first step, Tali looked up at the ceiling. The faint flashes of Shadowheart’s spells and the blue light burning coldly around Tali’s hand danced across rotting rafters and flimsy shingles. Great black pits marked where the eternal gloom peered in through holes in the roof.

She took two steps back and got a running start.

“Inveniam viam,” she said, and mist enfolded her.

She teleported from the ground to the open air above the building. Her momentum carried her forward, and she landed in a roll on the rooftop. As she stood, she had to push her cloak of protection back so she wouldn’t get tangled in it. The old roof creaked beneath her, but it held.

She turned around. True to her prediction, a bobbing skull floated mere meters away, looking down through one of the roof’s other gaps at the raging combat far below.

Tali didn’t want to make the mistake of a charge again, much less now that a miss could send her hurtling two storeys to the ground. She approached as swiftly as she could without jeopardizing her footing.

Unfortunately, her care gave the skull time to notice her and turn around. It opened its mouth wide and let loose a hideous roar. The sound shook the air. Tali’s ears rang, and the ringing spread through her head and down her body. Her arms and legs began to shake. She felt heavy, her skin clammy.

An instinctive fear gripped her heart. This had the same sickly, slimy feeling as the poisonous rays Balthazar had hurled at her.

This thing is not Balthazar. She clenched her teeth and tried to steady herself despite the spreading sickness. Her muscles were suddenly sore and fatigued. Even her inner fire seemed to gutter and grow cold.

The skull in front of her gave a series of short, hoarse screams, a mockery of humanoid laughter. It started to fly away from her, across the gap.

“No,” Tali hissed. She threw out a hand and pulled on her magic once again. “COME!”

The skull tugged against her divine command, but its was the weaker will. It turned around and sped back towards Tali. Air whistled through its mouth and formed a shrill cry. She held her halberd high, preparing for a diagonal swing.

As soon as the skull was near enough, she struck. She pulled from the remaining heat in her mind, dragging as much of it out of herself as she could and sending it into the enemy. She wanted to make this one attack enough, lest it fly out of her reach.

White-hot radiance flared from the halberd’s blade, and sparks flew where it hit bone. The skull turned from grey to white, dissolved, and rained down through the roof as glowing ichor.

Tali peered over the edge. From this vantage point, she could see Gerringothe below. Her golden breastplate flaked away and clattered to the floor, leaving her cadaverous torso exposed. The echo within the structure made the ringing of thousands of gold coins sound like a rushing tide.

“Now!” Tali yelled down. “Finish her!”

She could barely make out the shapes of her companions, four on the second floor and two on the first, darting through the shadows to attack. Cuts appeared all over Gerringothe’s body. None of them bled, but bit by bit, she was falling apart. As she staggered to and fro, struggling to keep her attackers at bay, her oversized golden helmet wobbled.

A final death-shriek cut through the air, and Gerringothe’s helmet and mask fell away. Pointed ears, red eyes, and twisted horns appeared, a visage that was partly elven and partly bestial. Gerringothe snarled, wrinkling her taut skin.

Tali held aloft her blue flame. Still sluggish from the skull’s sickening roar, she took aim and cast it downward. It glanced off of Gerringothe’s jagged cheekbone, barely burning her. Tali cursed. She was compromised, and the fire of her oath was burning low. She couldn’t take the same way down that she’d used to get up. It was all but up to the others now.

Karlach severed the creature’s foot. Gerringothe fell to one knee, and the barbarian shoved her to the ground. Wyll leaped down from the upper floor to put his sword through first her abdomen, then her shoulder above the collarbone. Gerringothe writhed on the floor, clawing at her assailants, but the warlock kept her pinned where she was.

Shadowheart raised her mace. “Incende!”

With the word of magic, a beam of bruised purple light appeared above Gerringothe. The creature tried to dodge, but she could not move. The sacred flame plunged downward and struck her in the middle of her chest.

“No!” the monster called out as the light scorched her body. “No! Unfair!”

Then a bolt from an unseen shooter--Lae’zel, hidden somewhere in the tollhouse’s shadows--pierced her. It sank so deep that, from high above, Tali saw it as a mere black speck over her heart. The creature’s arms flailed feebly, trying to pull down Karlach and Wyll, but there was no strength left in her. After one last, long moment of futility, she lay still.

Tali sank down and sat on the edge of the hole in the roof. She let out a long, shaky breath.

“Is she dead?” Gale called.

“Dead as a doorknob!” Karlach called back.

“Isn’t it ‘dead as a doornail’?” Wyll asked.

“They’re both equally not alive.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

The tension of combat dissipated. The three on the lowest level started collecting gold from Gerringothe, scooping it by handfuls into their bags until they ran out of room. Lae’zel, Gale, and Aradin were swift to join them, though the wizard seemed more interested in the dead monster than the money.

Tali rubbed her eyes. Up here, the wind felt so cold it could freeze the sweat to her brow. Her current state reminded her of the night her ally in the strange prism had stepped in to stave off ceremorphosis. She had the same shaking hands, pervasive aches, and buzzing mind. She knew this was different, though. But it wasn't all the skull's doing. Something else was wrong with her.

“Hey! Oi!”

Tali looked down. Aradin was waving his arms, trying to get her attention.

“What?” she called.

“You think I can carry all this by myself?” He gestured to the heaps of gold coins around him. “Get down here!”

Tali rolled her eyes and ended up making herself dizzy. She tried shaking her head to clear it, but that only made things worse.

“I'm coming. Give me a moment.” She got to her feet, teetering on the edge of falling into the tollhouse. “Gale?”

“Yes?” came the wizard's voice from below.

“I think I need a hand down.”

“And you'll have it.”

A moment later, Tali felt her body and armor grow lighter. She stepped into the hole in the roof and let herself fall. She drifted down gently, like a feather on a breeze, and landed as gracefully as she could among her companions. She propped her halberd against what remained of the staircase's railing to stretch her arms.

“So,” she started, “how much--"

Before she could finish, Aradin thrust a bag of gold into her hands. She adjusted her grip so it wouldn’t fall and spill.

“Hey!” she protested. “I’m not your pack mule!”

“Nah,” Aradin agreed. He already had another bag and was dumping out moth-eaten silks to make room for more money. “That’s your share.”

“My share?”

“Yeah. Me, I’m leaving with no less ‘n three bags.”

Tali frowned down at the sack of coins in her hands. In the dark, her tiefling eyes saw it as a bag of tiny moons, all gently gleaming and rolling together. There were hundreds here, more than she’d ever had in her life. More than she’d ever dreamed of having.

Karlach laughed and scooped up an armful of gold, her tail wagging with glee. “I could buy a tavern with this!”

“I suggest the Blushing Mermaid,” Wyll said.

“Gods, yes! The best and lousiest of them all! We can paint it!”

Shadowheart looked at her skeptically. “From what I know, it already has quite a distinctive appearance.”

“It’ll be more distinctive when I’m done with it.”

Gale was bent over Gerringothe’s shriveled face. He thoughtfully stroked his beard as he pondered the creature. Shadowheart came up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, and offered him an empty bag.

“Your potions and books don’t buy themselves, you know,” she said. “Get your share before the rest of us get to it.”

The wizard smiled and obligingly joined the looting. Even Lae’zel seemed unable to resist a smile, if only at the satisfaction of a victory well-earned and well-rewarded. The group’s joy was infectious, despite Tali’s tiredness.

She tied a knot in the top of her bag and set it with her halberd next to the stairs. She couldn’t imagine what the Hells she would spend her share on, so she couldn’t bring herself to want more. Instead she dragged herself over to Aradin, crouched down next to him, and flung a generous handful of gold into his bag.

He looked at her in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be filling your own pockets? I ain’t sharing.”

“Not with me, you’re not,” Tali said. “I wouldn’t put it to good use.”

“Yeah? And what’s a ‘good use’ to you?”

“I don’t even know. I don’t have that many expenses, though. Maybe I’ll get myself something nice in Baldur’s Gate, but I don’t need much for that.”

“Spending money’s as important as making it.” Aradin hefted the bag, testing its weight, and threw in another scoop.

Tali retrieved a burlap sack from the floor and relieved it of old, sprouting potatoes. She started filling it. “And what are you going to spend it on?”

Aradin was slow to answer, and she looked up at him curiously. His eyes met hers, and he hurriedly shrugged and went back to gold-gathering. “Lots o’ things.”

“Like new weapons?” Tali said. “Maybe something magical?”

“Damn right.”

“You could even put some of it toward setting up a guildhall like you wanted.”

“Nah. This ain’t near enough.” He stood and tied off his bag. “You know that’s what the Nightsong coin’s for.”

He smiled, a little less wry than his usual smile, and Tali smiled back. She felt warm in spite of the oppressive chill. When she realized her tail was wagging, she put her head down and shoveled more coins into her potato sack.

“That’s only one,” she said. “Hurry up if you want to get to three before the others take it all.”

He hesitated before joining her again, as though he had something else to say. If he did, he held his tongue. That worked for Tali; if they didn’t talk, they couldn’t say stupid things. The two knelt side by side and wordlessly and gleefully collected their fortune.

Chapter Text

Hard-won stillness settled over The Waning Moon.

“And that's that for Thisobald Thorm,” Wyll said with a laugh. He stepped over the malformed corpse to reach behind the bar. “Drinks, anyone?”

“You read my mind.” Shadowheart sighed, tired. She looked around the taproom and grimaced. “Though maybe somewhere less… pungent.”

Karlach nudged a fallen zombie with the toe of her boot. “No dead bodies on the top floor.”

“And the top floor would make a good place to camp,” Gale pointed out. “From there we can keep an eye on the rest of the town. If anything wants to make a meal of us while we recuperate, we'll see them coming.”

Tali and Lae’zel shared a skeptical look.

“We should withdraw,” the githyanki submitted. “If you want restful sleep, you'll find none in Reithwin.”

“There's worse places,” Aradin muttered.

“Yeah. Plus, this town has to be running out of monsters,” Karlach said. She turned to Tali. “What about it, soldier? Sense any undead crawling around?”

Tali shook her head. Her divine sense had indicated the strong undead presence within the tavern, which had led the party to their battle with Thisobald Thorm. The thought that the hideous quadrupedal creature had once been an elf made her shudder. But now that he and his corpse patrons lay inert at her feet, she sensed nothing else.

“This place seems empty,” she said, “like the whole town. I suppose it seemed empty on my first time through here, too.”

“It's disconcerting,” Wyll concluded with an understanding nod. “It feels like half a town and half a ruin, neither populated nor properly abandoned. Soon it will be.”

“Populated?” Karlach asked, furrowing her brow.

“Once this curse is lifted, perhaps.” Wyll turned his attention back to the bar. “Gale is right. Let's make camp here.”

Tali didn’t argue. She had expended almost all her magic in the fight against Gerringothe, so she had entered the encounter with Thisobald weary and weakened. Now that combat was over, she felt as heavy as the grotesque Thorms. Even if she was determined to go elsewhere, she probably couldn’t go far.

The group gathered their gear, including their recently acquired sacks of gold, and ascended to the second floor. There they gathered in a corner surrounded by multiple windows. Up here, the smell of rot and sickness was much reduced, and if not for the curse, it would be bright and cozy. Karlach rolled out her bedroll, Shadowheart began doffing her armor, and Lae’zel stood at one of the windows, glowering into the darkness. Wyll brought over a few dusty bottles of wine to complement the cheese and hard bread Gale passed out.

“Amnian dessert,” the warlock announced as he twisted the cork out.

Shadowheart was the first to proffer her cup, and the wine that flowed into it was a rich red. One by one, as they found comfortable places to sit, Wyll served everyone, saving the bottom of the bottle for himself.

“This is a wine for occasions,” Gale remarked. “Shall we find something to toast?”

Karlach tipped her head. “You got any ideas?”

“I can find one.” The wizard uncrossed his legs and stood to raise his drink. “To jobs well done.” He looked at Karlach.

The big tiefling didn't bother getting out of her creaky chair at a creakier table. She leaned back, grinned, and held aloft her cup. “To the bastards that do them.”

Wyll sat down at the same table. “To a good drink at the end of a long day.”

“And to the long day,” Shadowheart added from her spot on the floor.

Lae'zel looked down her short nose at the carnage on the lower level. “To foes vanquished.”

Eyes fell on Tali next. She was still in all her armor, so she'd found a barrel sturdy enough to hold her weight without collapsing. She hesitantly raised her wine, mirroring the others.

“To… to another dinner among friends,” she said. Her companions smiled and murmured agreement. She scanned them. Everyone was injured after the day’s battles, bruised and battered and bloody. She and Shadowheart had done their best to keep them all as hale as possible, and they had almost exhausted themselves with the magical expenditure. The rest would have to come with time.

She became aware that an awkward silence had set in. No one had taken a drink yet. Lae’zel’s cup hovered at her mouth, but even she waited, watching the one person who had yet to speak. Following the others’ expectant gazes, Tali turned to Aradin, who sat on a scavenged stool distanced from the rest of the group.

“Do you want to add anything?” she asked.

The longer they looked at him, the more uncomfortable he looked. “Nah. I’m happy to drink to… what you lot said.”

‘Happy’ is the wrong word, Tali thought. As everyone threw their heads back and drank deep, she saw some level of contentment in everyone, even Lae'zel… but not Aradin. She wondered if he was worried about his team, bedding down so far from the few he had left.

Tali picked herself up, brushed off her clothes, and looked around. The grey sky hung heavy over the grey earth, both so featureless that they became indistinguishable. She didn't know where she was. She only knew she was alone.

She shrugged off the memory and ate her evening rations without disturbance. With the exception of Aradin, the rest of her compatriots talked amongst themselves, but few questions were directed at her. They still seemed accustomed to her keeping to herself during these brief moments of downtime. And they could probably tell that she was particularly tired tonight.

They didn’t leave her alone forever, though. Eventually, Gale detached himself from the rest of the group and came over to lean against the wall beside Tali’s barrel.

“Do you need a refill?” he asked with a smile. “Karlach is running to find another bottle.”

Tali shook her head. “No, thank you. Not while we’re still in Reithwin.”

“You think we’re celebrating prematurely?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“We’ve probably slain a bit more than our fair share of foul knaves today.” Gale gestured towards the rest of the inn. “It is good to be back out in the wilderness, tackling the horrors of the dark on the behalf of those who cannot. It is even better to have our paladin alive and on her own two feet. Yours is a strength that steels ours.”

“Thank you,” Tali said absently. She looked at Aradin. He stayed on the fringes, monitoring the rest of the group with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

“In short, today is worth a bit of joy--and maybe even a little carousing.” When Gale set a hand on her shoulder, Tali pulled her attention back to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

His smile fell, and he fixed her with a serious stare. “How are you feeling? Today saw your first combat since your resurrection, and it was long and taxing.”

“Yes. It was.” Tali considered admitting to some of her worries, but she glanced back at her happily drinking and chatting friends. It could wait. “I’m fine. I’m only tired.”

“Fortunately for you, we have an extra. You can skip taking a watch tonight.”

“That wouldn’t be much comfort.” She tracked Wyll as he left a bottle of wine in Karlach’s hand and walked over to Aradin, no doubt in an ill-conceived attempt to make the mercenary feel more welcome. “I wouldn’t let him keep watch alone.”

“Aradin?”

Tali nodded.

Gale frowned. “Do you think we ought to mistrust him?”

“No. That isn’t it.”

“Do you think we ought to mistrust his competence?”

Tali shook her head. “No. I mean….” She trailed off. She didn’t want to know what her friends would think of her true concerns. “I think I, at least, should keep an eye on him,” she said instead. “Just to be safe.”

“I don’t think he’s quite that hostile to tieflings, not anymore. Look; he’s talking to Wyll now. Who, yes, isn’t a tiefling, but outside of our little group, I’m sure most people don't know the difference.”

Tali smiled wryly. “Aradin of all people wouldn't.”

“Oh, yes. I remember he had some choice words for you in the Grove.”

“I had a few for him. And then some.”

Gale shook his head. “At times it's difficult to believe how far we've come.”

“And it didn’t take us long.”

“Indeed. But as you wish. If he insists on taking a watch, we’ll make sure he shares, perhaps with Lae’zel. They’ll make up for one another’s lack of darkvision.”

Tali smiled, but it faded quickly as she watched Wyll and Aradin. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she knew what their body language meant. Aradin was reserved. He didn’t trust Wyll. He didn’t want anyone trying to pry him open. Wyll was friendly, warm, and talkative--too much so for Aradin's comfort.

“I have an odd question, Gale,” she said suddenly.

“You're always welcome to ask.”

“Do you remember the party with the refugees well?”

“Of course I do.” A pleasant twinkle entered the wizard's eye. “That was a precious moment we enjoyed.”

Enjoyed. “When I failed your magic lesson… do you know what happened?”

“It wasn't an environment conducive to the focus required to learn magic.” A note of concern entered his voice. “I hope you haven't been dwelling on that.”

“Not on that, no.” Tali looked away again. So he hadn't seen the memory that had yanked her so violently from his lesson. She couldn't tell if that was comforting or not.

Gale leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You gave some nobly intentioned reasons to reject Aradin’s offer to join us. If there is something else, you can trust me to be discreet about it. Do you feel unsafe with him along?”

“No. That’s not the right word.” Tali sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Some among us have endured unpleasant alliances already,” Gale said. “Despite their differences, Lae’zel and Shadowheart have learned to work together, and to potent results.”

“This is a different sort of arrangement. It happened by choice, not necessity.”

“Leading one to wonder why you'd choose such a thing.”

“I had to.”

“Is that a choice, then?”

“You know it is.” Tali looked up to meet his eye. “You've felt it before. When there's something you need to do, whether you like it or not, whether it's good for you or not. Because you don’t like who you’ll be otherwise.”

“I… catch your meaning.” Then, in a rare moment, Gale fell into a long silence.

While the wizard pondered, Tali looked back at Aradin, who once more sat alone and apart. Wyll had rejoined the larger group and seemed to be teaching Lae’zel a few new words of Faerunian vernacular. That left the mercenary alone. He sat hunched, defensive, clutching his cup close. His right arm was still bloody, and he had a collection of minor burns and bruises from the battle for The Waning Moon that Tali hadn't had the magical reservoirs to heal.

She had to attend to him. There were still things to resolve before she could consider the day done. She stood. “Excuse me.”

“Hold on a moment,” Gale said. “What you're facing is interpersonal. Don't treat it like a grim inevitability.”

Tali gave him a searching stare. “Do you really think that?”

“I do. Trust is a necessity in times like these.”

“Do you trust Mystra?”

Gale blinked in surprise. Tali was taken aback, too; the question had spilled from her before she even knew she was asking it.

“Well. Of course.” Gale gave a nervous chuckle. “What sort of wizard wouldn't trust magic itself?”

“A wizard who knows it's dangerous.”

“Believe me, none knows better than I the dangers of magic pursued without restraint.”

Tali shook her head and turned away. “Never mind. I'm sorry I said anything.”

“Tali--"

“I need to go.”

She turned on her heel and started away, and Gale didn't try to stop her. Her brusqueness shamed her, but not enough to make her take it back. She shouldn't have brought up the goddess in the first place, and now she had to get away before the conversation turned into a debate about the divine. She had to shut her blasphemous mouth.

If I'm a blasphemer, I'm not the only one here, she thought. She held the thought close, held it quietly and bitterly. We know the home of the Absolute. If Gale seriously thought killing himself for Mystra was the solution, he and Moonrise would both be gone.

Tali passed by her companions. Lae’zel and Karlach were armwrestling with Wyll watching on as a referee. As Tali approached the camp supplies the party had heaped on the floor, she heard the thump of a fist hitting the table, then a githyanki curse and a roaring laugh. She smiled feebly to herself and rummaged in search of her bedroll, setting aside all manner of rations and tools and emergency torches to access it. It was the same patchy assemblage of salvaged cotton rags and furs that she’d been using since shortly after the nautiloid crash. She’d kept it as clean as possible, but it retained a couple of stubborn bloodstains. She tucked it under her arm.

As she turned and re-crossed the room, the floorboards groaned under her feet. Now that she was standing and moving, she was keenly aware of the weight of her armor, dragging at her like a pack of goblins trying to bring her to the ground. She did her best to ignore the feeling for now.

The moment Aradin saw her coming, he tipped his head back and downed the rest of his drink.

“I’m not that bad,” Tali said, coming to a stop in front of him.

He shook the last drops into his mouth. “That’s what you think.”

Tali rolled her eyes, but at the same time, she started to smile. She swiftly wiped it from her face. She was here for a reason. “You packed light. Did you bring a bedroll?”

“Weren't none left at the inn.”

“I thought so. Then I’d be glad to share mine.” She held out her ragged bundle. “It’s in poor condition, but it’s clean and warm.”

Aradin gave her a long, flat stare. Tali shifted uncomfortably. He narrowed his eyes. She looked down.

“It may not be the highest quality you’ve ever had, but you might feel a lot worse in the morning without it,” she insisted.

“Without… that?” He pointed at the bedroll.

“Yes. I don’t need it. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“So you’re lending me a bedroll.”

“Yes.”

“See, lending ain't sharing.”

“Oh, right.” Tali frowned at him, and a moment later blood rushed to her face. “Wait! No! Oh, gods, I’m sorry, I… I misspoke. I meant borrow. You can borrow it. Not share.” She rubbed her forehead, leaving cold stripes where the metal touched her skin. “I'm--I'm too tired to….”

“Hope that's not the only thing stopping you,” Aradin said dryly.

Embarrassment mixed with indignation. Tali's cheeks grew even warmer, and she tried to hide her blush with a scowl. “That's not what I meant.”

“Hard to tell.”

“Just take the damn bedroll.” She thrust it into his hands. “Pick one of the good spots before the others beat you to it.”

“What, you don't got one to share?”

Tali turned up her nose. “I already picked a bad one.”

Determined not to let him have the last word, she sped away. Her heart beat loudly and frantically. He knows. He knows. He knows. How much longer can I pretend I don't?

A new, terrible thought occurred to her, and she glanced back briefly, only to find he wasn't paying her any heed anymore. He was on his way to the far corner, above one of the tavern’s main entrances, with his borrowed bedroll. He moved well, even after the day’s exertion and injuries--a convenient benefit of a fit body.

No. Focus, she scolded herself. No matter how tired she got, she had to remain vigilant and disciplined. Aradin wasn't out here just to help, or even for money. He wasn't here to curry favor with anyone or anything.

He was here to test her.

~

When a hand landed on her shoulder, Tali jolted upright. She held her arm out defensively, ready to fend off whatever had crept up on her in her sleep. For an instant, the pitch-dark silhouette crouched over her had to be a zombie or a wraith. Then her sleepy haze cleared, and she realized it was Aradin.

She relaxed and rubbed her eyes. “My watch already?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Tali pushed her cloak away from her legs. Because she’d given away her bedroll, she was using her gambeson as a pillow--she hardly noticed the smell of sweat anyway--and her cloak of protection as a blanket. Her extremities were frigid, but it was better than nothing.

As she stood, she looked around. The rest of her companions were sleeping peacefully. The Amnian dessert wine had probably carried them into a deep and comfortable slumber. Even so, she was careful to keep her footfalls soft and her voice low.

“Were you keeping watch alone?” she asked, turning to Aradin.

“Nah. Had the yellow one--" He stopped and frowned. “Gith… something?”

Tali nodded. “Githyanki.”

“Yeah. That. Had her breathing down my neck half the time. I told her I’d wake you up and she could catch a wink early. Gave me something like peace and quiet.”

Tali breathed half a laugh. “I suppose you’re not likely to find any of the real thing out here. Anything to report?”

He shook his head. “Still dark as Shar’s ass crack.”

Tali smiled, though she probably shouldn’t have. “Don’t let Sh--" She stopped herself.

“Don’t let what?”

“Never mind.” She and her fellow infected had been openly discussing Shar worship, infernal pacts, and curses of Karsite magic for several tendays now. She had become accustomed to it to the point she’d almost forgotten they were secrets, and she’d almost let Shadowheart’s deity of choice slip from her lips. She wasn’t the one to expose that particular truth, and doing so would only make Aradin more nervous.

She rolled her shoulders and rubbed some of the cold from her knuckles. With a tip of her head, she gave Aradin a short “Thank you.” Then she walked to the nearest window nook, eager to get some warmth back by patrolling. Only after she leaned forward to look out into the blackness did she realize Aradin had followed her.

“What is it?” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She felt vaguely impatient, but she couldn’t tell if she wanted him to leave her alone and go to bed, or if she anticipated something else.

He leaned against the wall, tentatively avoiding a curtain of cobwebs. “You wasn’t all there today.”

Tali sighed and turned her attention back towards the outdoors. The road outside was empty, as were the twisted tree boughs. Her divine sense was silent except for the constant quiet warning about Wyll. Her mind’s fire was all but dead.

“I know,” she said softly. “Since I came back, I haven’t been active enough. I shouldn’t have gone so many days without real exertion.”

“That ain’t everything.”

“It isn’t,” Tali admitted. “I have… memories. Of when I was dead. They’re becoming less frequent, but they…. They’re distracting.”

“It ain’t like you to get distracted in a fight. You was always so caught up in it, like you didn’t see anything ‘cept what you was hacking to bloody bits.”

“A blessing and a curse. Ever since I swore my oath, I’ve had a rhythm. And it’s always felt… good.” She turned her back to the window and pressed herself into the corner. “It didn’t feel good today.”

“There’s some that’ll tell you fighting shouldn’t ever feel good,” Aradin pointed out. He stepped forward and posted himself on the opposite side of the window, mirroring her.

“But you’re not one of those people.”

“Couldn’t be.”

“So what would you tell me?”

He pondered for a moment, looking her up and down. She turned her hands towards him, open to inspection. He shook his head.

“It’ll go away,” he said.

“That’s all?”

“Better ‘n getting your knickers twisted.”

“I died.” Tali dropped her head into her hands. “Twisting knickers is an unreasonably tame response. The visions are getting shorter and further apart, but after they’re over, I remember them. I’m thinking things I’m not used to thinking. Something changed, and I don’t know what it is or how to fix it.”

He paused, then ventured: “You… think things?”

“I’m not in a mocking mood.”

“Nah, not like that. I ain’t mocking. I meant….” His brow furrowed. “You got the same soul and the same body, don’t you? What do you mean, 'thinking different'?”

Tali looked away, uncomfortable. “It’s small things. Nothing important.”

“Then why say it?”

“I shouldn’t have. You don’t really want to hear it. It doesn’t matter.” She nodded towards the rest of the room. “Go back to bed. Your body won’t thank you if you don’t let it finish healing.”

“The same don’t go for you, though.”

“I’m not interested in another argument about hypocrisy.”

“Calm down. Thought you wasn’t in a fighting mood, neither.” Aradin leaned back into his corner. He was almost lost in the darkness. “There’s other sorts o’ healing you need.”

“I’ll see to my needs when I can. I’m not your responsibility.”

“Nah. But I got a few minutes.”

Tali frowned, confused. “To, what, talk? Why?”

“You first.”

Tali shook her head. She could clam up; he couldn’t extract anything she didn’t want him to know. But she was so sick of it--sick of fighting her own allies tooth and nail to clutch some sort of pride, to get the last word, to hide her pain in rivers of venom. She sank against the wall and crumpled to the floor.

“I don’t know what to think or feel anymore,” she confessed, rubbing her temples. “When I was dead, I saw… this Tyrran priest. Someone I knew in life. She was like a mother to me once. She taught me the doctrines of Tyr and showed me how to press flowers. She did so much for the temple and the village, and so much for me. But she was there. In the City of Judgment. She didn’t make it to Mount Celestia with the others who died.”

Aradin sat cross-legged facing her. He watched in silent expectation. Tali didn’t dare to look at his face. She dreaded judgment or derision, but more than that, she dreaded sympathy. Sympathy would mark change, and too much was changing already.
“She had protected someone from justice,” she continued, “and no one ever knew. She never lost faith in Tyr, but she didn’t match up to him, either. If it could happen to her….” Her vision started to blur, and she rubbed her eyes to dry them. Gods, I wish I hadn’t seen her. I wish my last memory of her was still bloody and dead. “I just don’t know how he could leave her behind.”

“Having doubts?”

Tali nodded and wiped at her eyes again. “And I can’t be doubting. Not now. My oath…. It’s like a living thing sometimes. I don’t control my compulsion for justice, not as much as you’d think. It makes demands and it thirsts for blood. It’s always so eager when I’m fighting. It loves killing monsters--monsters of any kind. But today, it was like an obligation. Like it didn’t really care. It’s weakened.”

“You was dead, like you keep saying. I bet it takes time to get all your energy back.”

“Are you trying to comfort me?”

Aradin frowned. “You’re acting stupid again.”

Tali sighed. “That’s more like it. You’re the last person I’d think would try to reinforce my belief. I was expecting something more like, ‘Oh, see, can’t even hold on to that oath you love so much.’”

His frown turned to a scowl. “That ain’t what I sound like.”

“What do you expect? I’m no bard.”

“And I ain’t a paladin. I don’t know how this god shite works, just that there’s gods out there and there’s paladins ‘round here what listen to ‘em.”

“I don’t know how it works, either.” She held her hands out in a helpless shrug. “I just try to keep my word, but…. What if the things I’ve promised to do aren’t what I should do? And it’s too late to change my heading?”

“S'pose you should’ve thought that through before signing on to a contract for life.”

“A contract.” Tali smiled wryly down at her feet, then heaved a heavy sigh. “But what matters? Following the letter of that contract? Or having utter conviction?”

“Doubting things didn’t make your powers go away today,” Aradin said. “Me, I’ve always thought what you do matters some Hells of a lot more ‘n what you think.”

“I think I’d agree.”

“Then don’t sweat it.”

“But my opinion doesn’t decide anything. I don’t know what Tyr and Kelemvor think.”

“You’re never gonna know.”

Tali squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s where I’m stuck. I’ve devoted my entire life--almost since I was a godsdamned baby--to Tyr. And I still don’t know him. Our fates are decided by things we are doomed not to understand.”

“So?”

Her head shot up so she could give him a reproachful glare. “What do you mean, ‘so?’ How am I supposed to be at peace with this?”

Aradin scoffed. “Since when was you at peace? Why’s any of it matter?”

“How could you say that?” She threw her hands out. “If you could control things, wouldn’t you?”

“I already do.” He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I run all my own shit. Don’t need more ‘n that. If we was to go and make a list of the things I don’t control, the Coast’d run out of paper ‘fore we get halfway through. That never stopped me from living.”

“One day, something will.”

“Which makes me just like everybody else.”

“But after that is the afterlife.”

“And? What’s anyone gonna do about that?” Aradin shook his head, exasperated. “I can’t do nothing, and neither can you. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“Is it really so simple for you?”

“You know what you really need, Points?”

“What?”

“A hobby.”

Tali gave him a flat stare. “A hobby."

“Yeah. You and me got lucky. Most people don’t get to love what they do. So what if you ain’t as chuffed about it today? Pull yourself together and do your job. Then find your fun somewhere else.”

“I don’t have the time.”

Aradin gestured towards the rest of the room and the collection of happily sleeping adventurers. “You got time to drink with your friends. And I bet it don’t take long to pick flowers. Not that there’s any ‘round these parts.”

Flowers. Tali crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on her wrist. The thought of starting a new collection was beyond daunting. How could she? There was no replacing all the flowers she’d lost to the bloodstains.

Aradin leaned forward, and before Tali realized what was happening, his hand landed on her shoulder. His face grew close, alarmingly close, and she had no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked unusually earnest, but hardly gentle. When he spoke, Tali strained to hear him over her own pulse.

“You got people that need you at your best,” he said sternly. “Give ‘em your best. If you can’t, do something to make sure you can. Whatever makes you sane.”

“You make me sane.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow, and a moment later her mind caught up with her mouth. Her heart skipped in a jolt of panic.

“I--I meant thank you,” she hurriedly amended. “For letting me say something. Even if we don’t agree, it….”

She faltered. Her impulse was always to pour more words over her fumbles, enough new excuses and corrections to cover up the hints of truth that kept sneaking out unbidden. But what was the point? By now he knew as much as there was to know, and she only embarrassed herself further when she tried to pretend she didn’t mean what she said.

Her face burned with shame, and she hung her head. Aradin stood, taking his hand from her shoulder and leaving a cold spot behind.

“Bad choice,” he said. Tali anxiously listened for any hint of either disgust or favor in his voice, but his tone was as casual and dismissive as usual. “Good enough, though--if it don’t get worse than it were today.”

Tali opened her mouth, but whatever words she had died before the first sound escaped. What could she possibly say? She wanted him to sit back down and stay with her, to put his hand back on her so she wouldn’t feel so cold and alone. But she didn’t know how to say any of that.

Instead she gave a short nod. “Thank… thank you.”

He hesitated, leaving a brief but awkward silence. It was long enough for Tali to start wondering if he was finally going to confront her for her untoward glances and worse words.

“Not a problem,” he said, to her relief. He turned and took a step away.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“It’s your turn.” She looked up at him. “Why isn’t it a problem? Why listen to me?”

“You wanted to run your mouth. And I don’t know how often your friends here stop and shake the stupid out o’ you.”

Tali breathed half a laugh. “Not enough.”

“There you go.”

“But you don’t owe me any of your time.”

“Gods-a-mercy. Sometimes I can’t believe you ain’t the mercenary here. It don’t all gotta be a transaction.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Fine. It can be. This mean you owe me something more, now?”

“If you need my time, you have it.”

“Whatever.” He waved her off and started away. “Just don’t let nothing eat me in my sleep, Points.”

“I won’t. And it’s Tali.”

Another pause. Then: “Yeah, sure. Tali.”

With that, he left, and Tali was alone again. The echo of her name lingered in her ears and made them tingle. Some small sense of warmth seeped into her heart, and the flush of shame gradually drained from her cheeks. The rustle of a bedroll reminded her that the rest of the room existed, and she realized she’d never actually started her patrol. She stood up, brushed the dust and wood splinters off her trousers, and took a deep breath. Aradin was right about at least one thing: she was needed. She left her darkened nook and crossed to the next window. Whatever her feelings, she could do her job.