Chapter Text
Sorcha took a breath, as if it was her last ever chance to do so, and stepped into the liminal space leading to the Shadowlands.
A cold, searching sensation roamed across her skin, feeling as if the darkness itself was trying to drain any tendril of light or life away from her. Karlach's flames flickered dimly. She saw Astarion actually shiver as he stared out into the warped landscape before them. However Shadowheart appeared totally unconcerned, as did Nimbus. Makes sense, I guess. Nimbus is a creature of the Shadowfell, after all.
Huge skeletal trees were draped across the ground, bone coloured roots sprawling and ripping into the twisted earth. A goblin bearing a torch walked up the path in front of them.
"Are you the True Soul?" the goblin asked.
"True Souls don't answer stupid questions," she replied.
"Erm, erm, I'll take that as a yes," the goblin stuttered. "Grab a torch, stay together and follow me."
Shadowheart cast Daylight upon Karlach. Sorcha and Astarion stayed close to her, breathing in her glow and her warmth like it was oxygen. Shadowheart was carrying the Blood, which glowed with its own celestial light.
They trailed after the goblin, hands on weapons, through darkness that seemed to thicken inexplicably in places. They followed what had once been a paved road, now rent and twisted apart as if an angry god had beat out a tantrum upon it. Through the murk she began to see some flickering torches and a ramshackle camp came into view.
As Sorcha stepped into the camp she saw a goblin, throwing a bone out into the dark and encouraging a hyena to chase after it. The creature ran into the dark, gave a pained whimper, and vanished.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked sharply.
"Ah! Oh hells, I near stained meself," the goblin screeched. "I was just seeing what this shadowdark did. I bet he was real tasty!" He cackled to himself. "You're the True Soul, right? Just go see Kansif inside."
"Will do," she replied. "One more thing - go fetch the bone you threw."
"Yer… yer joking, right?" the goblin stammered. She gave the creature a wicked smile and let lightning spark across her hands. "Go." He slunk into the shadows, disappearing from view, and did not return.
Sorcha walked into the camp and was met by a half-orc, Kansif. "Did you bring the lyre, True Soul?" She was still carrying the lyre she had taken from Nere's body, so she brought it out to show him. "Strike a chord then, and our guide will come scuttling," he advised. Ah, so she didn't need these Absolutists, the guide would come anyway.
She carefully placed the lyre back in her pack, wrapped tight. "No, there's something I need to do first." Kansif looked confused as she walked back towards Karlach. As soon as she was out of his weapon range she whirled and cast twin lightning orbs on Kansif and the other half-orc.
Nimbus grabbed the nearest goblin, biting down and shaking it before throwing it across the camp. "Hey, Nimbus, that's my move!" Karlach yelled with a grin on her face; she grabbed the nearest goblin and flung it into the path of Kansif, knocking him prone.
Astarion ran up onto a side platform, stabbing one goblin in the chest, spinning and hitting another directly in the throat with his other dagger. Sorcha noticed and couldn't help but admire the beauty of his precise, fluid motion before directing her attention back to where it should be. Shadowheart had cast a bolt of light on the furthest half-orc, so Sorcha finished him off with a quick ice cantrip. Karlach speared Kansif where he lay on the ground and the fight was over.
"Right, let's rest before calling this guide. I didn't like the sound of them 'scuttling' so it's best to be prepared." She sat beside Astarion, who was cleaning the dark goblin blood from his weapons. "That dagger suits you, you looked magnificent," she said.
"Oh darling, I always look magnificent," he replied, but a slow smile spread across his face. "Dead goblins everywhere; are you feeling frisky, my dear?"
"Shush!" she whispered, giggling and shoving him playfully away.
Once rested, she pulled out the lyre once more and dragged her hand across the strings. Everybody winced at the hideous sound, as they readied themselves to meet this guide.
There was indeed a sound of scuttling, as a strange amalgam of a creature came into view, a drider. He looked like a male drow, at least on the top half. His bottom half was comprised of eight giant spider legs and a bulbous arachnid abdomen. Eight eyes were dotted across his face, blinking unnervingly at random intervals, and he had both humanoid arms and wicked looking pedipalps. Most importantly, he was carrying a moonlantern, an intact version of Nere's broken one.
The drider scanned the camp, littered with goblin and half-orc corpses. "Your majesty, what did they do?" he said in a fearful hushed tone. "I killed them, just as I'm going to kill you," Sorcha announced, signalling the start of the attack with a necromancy cantrip.
Karlach was still glowing from the daylight spell and the drider flinched in pain as she neared, all eight eyes tearing up. He rushed at her, sword extended, but merely grazed her armour, unable to look at his target. Sorcha saw that droplets of green poison oozed from where the blade had touched the armour. Best to stay back.
Shadowheart cast bolts of radiant light as Astarion aimed fire arrows at the drider's body. Nimbus was happily crunching on spider legs, sending the creature crashing to the ground. The drider was still trying to attack as Karlach sliced through his neck with her axe, stilling his life.
Astarion reached to catch the moonlantern as it fell from the drider's grip. A high pitched annoying squeaking was coming from it. He examined the lamp and Sorcha saw that it contained a pixie, shouting "Set me free, oh set me free! This lantern only lights the way if I am hurting night and day!" Hurriedly, seemingly without thought, he quickly released the catch and the pixie flew free.
A tiny purple pixie flew at his eye level. "Finally! Been stuck in that lantern with nothing but a mad drider and my own farts for company!"
Sorcha laughed at her foul mouth. "You should meet Shovel, I think you'd get along!"
"Did me a favour there, what do I owe you?" the pixie continued.
"I need a way to get us through this shadow curse, can you help with that?" asked Astarion.
"Sure I can, but will I?" Fey were renowned for their trickery, but she did owe him, after all.
"Sure, why not," she continued. "Give this bell a shake, say my name and you'll get what you've earned. Protection from the shadow curse, what more could a dingus want?"
"And what's your name?" he quickly asked before she could vanish.
"My name is Dolly thrice, I'm sure you'll think that I'm quite nice!" Her laugh was like the peal of tiny bells as she disappeared.
"A pixie! An honest to goodness pixie," he said, in an awed voice. Sorcha was surprised to notice that he looked almost childlike, eyes rounded with wonder, smiling happily. I never expected to see him so unguarded.
The pixie's blessing felt like the weight of the world was gone from her shoulders, the leaden crush of the curse held at bay. The landscape was still a hideous contorted wasteland, but at least it no longer felt as if it was devouring her. Rotted buildings lined the paths, decaying for a century after being hurriedly abandoned.
They headed onwards into the gloom until they found a raised plateau, surrounded by torches, which made a good place to camp, or at least the best they were likely to find out here. There was even a chicken coop to give shelter for the animals. Sorcha had a stern talk with Scratch and the owlbear cub, explaining that it was dangerous to leave the camp right now, no matter how strong and brave they were.
After dinner, Astarion slipped into her tent. "I know I'm used to a crypt's gloom, but this is horrible. I can't even see the stars," he complained. "I was wondering if I could have another nibble, darling. There's nothing to hunt out here and I need my strength."
She acquiesced and he pulled her sideways onto his lap, a firm hand holding her head, breathing in the scent of her neck and the blood rising to the surface. He bit down delicately and she shuddered, sharp pain fading to a wash of bliss.
He continued to hold her after sealing the wounds, hugging her warmth, unwilling to release her.
"I hate this place," he murmured into her neck. "It reminds me of the worst parts of Cazador's Palace."
"It drags me down, that's for sure. I don't know what I expected really, maybe that because I use some shadow power it wouldn't affect me? So, so wrong," she sighed.
"How did you even come to use that sort of magic?" Astarion asked.
"I used it to hide at first, wrapping shadows around myself, and then it just kind of grew on me gradually."
"Perhaps you could tell me more of your story?" he suggested. "Last I remember, you'd just been captured by the Zhent."
"Can I share the memory?" she asked. "Some of this gets hard to put into words, the fear, the panic, you understand?"
She felt his tadpole reach out for hers and sank into recollection.
1478, Waterdeep and the Long Road
Sorcha looked out from the cage and saw she was in a row with, she thought, three other captives. A half-elf girl about her age, a younger dwarf boy and an older, well-muscled human boy. They all seemed to be in the same sorry bedraggled state as she was.
"What's your name?" she whispered to the girl.
"I'm Yllena," she said.
"How long have you been here?"
"I've been here, maybe two days? I'm not sure."
"What are they doing with us?" Sorcha asked.
"We're to be taken up north to Icewind Dale and sold there, where no one will find us," she murmured, tears spilling from her eyes.
The nearest guard, a human with dirty blonde hair and a scar across her nose, came over and prodded Sorcha with a staff. "Quit whispering if you know what's good for you." Sorcha shrank back, but noticed her silver ring on the guard's little finger.
A half-orc guard shouted over, "Lyssa, you're needed on the door. Leave these little morsels to me." The blonde woman left and the other guard moved his chair closer, before putting his feet up and closing his eyes. After some time he began to make a grating snarl with every inhale.
She needed a way out, but had no idea where to begin. She had even less resources than the ones she had at the beginning of the day. She calmed her breathing and waited for a solution to present itself.
Each cage door was closed with a heavy padlock, which she had not seen them unlock yet. No handy keys could be noticed on the half-orc's belt. However with the exception of her snoring jailor and her fellow prisoners they were now alone. Sorcha thought of her fire spells, could they perhaps break the lock, melt the metal? She didn't know if it was possible, but metal melted in forges, didn't it?
Barely daring to breathe, she concentrated on fire and aimed it to the padlock. It licked at the metal but then stopped, petering out. She gave a quiet tut of frustration, she'd need something much longer lasting, couldn't just endlessly throw fire bolts, even cantrips had a limit eventually. Maybe an orb of fire instead, if she concentrated?
She looked at the floor. Straw, everywhere. Sorcha knelt, scraping the dry strands together underneath the lock. Yllena looked scared at what she was doing. "Don't worry, just move your straw away, make a good gap between my straw and yours," she whispered to the girl. "Tell the others too."
She sat, cross legged, and reached, down into the darkness where her magic sat. A ball of flame blossomed between her palms and she flung it at the lock, fire dripping down onto the mound of straw below, the orb and the straw amplifying each other. The lock began to glow red, then cooled, giving out a sharp crack.
The half orc jolted awake with a shouted "Huh? Wassup?" just as the flames died down. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and scuffed a bit of straw over the char, then scurried to the back of her cage. I almost had it.
The scarred woman, Lyssa, a burly human man and a muscular dark-haired half elf entered the room, armed with crossbows, daggers and a length of chain. "Wake up, Aggerk, you lousy lump. Time to move them out, caravan's ready," Lyssa said, tossing the half-orc a bunch of keys.
Aggerk moved to the far end of the cages, unlocking the door and then grabbing the human boy, twisting his arm up his back, handing him over to the half elf to hold firm while he passed a chain through his collar. The young dwarf boy was next, bewilderment evident on his face, too small to need more than a rough shove before he was chained. Yllena was grabbed and roughly carried over to the others, the girl screaming in fear until a sharp backhand sent her reeling, blood trickling from her eye.
Sorcha huddled at the back of the cage. She thought the lock was probably broken, and was sure the metal would still be warm. Would the brute even notice? They weren't known for their wits after all.
He rattled the key against the lock and the door sprang open. Aggerk reached in and grabbed her by her collar, pulling her bodily out of the cage and propelling her towards the chained captives, where the links were threaded through her collar before the four prisoners were hauled upstairs.
A caravan was waiting, six large oxen drawn carts. A large cage was affixed to one wagon, and they were thrown into that together. A heavy cloth dropped down over the entire thing, hiding them from sight to get them clear of the city.
As a jarring roll indicated that they were moving, Sorcha gathered the others together. "If I can rest a while, I can try to break the lock, just like I did earlier, and give us a chance to get free." It seemed like their only chance so the other three agreed.
Later, rested, or as close as she could manage on a pile of straw, she began putting her plan into action once again. She had peeked out from under the heavy cloth and seen that it was dark. The early hours of the morning, that was the time to try. Sleepy guards, and the fire's light wouldn't be easily noticed during sunrise.
Sorcha began aiming fire cantrips at the chain in front of her, concentrating on just one link until she saw it had warped enough to unhook later. The little dwarf boy was sniffling in the corner. He'd be a liability in any escape attempt, but she couldn't just leave him there. She gathered everyone around him and whispered "We need an escape plan, for after I break the lock." The other three looked blankly at her, as if she had all the answers, as if she was in charge. "Right, well, I guess we should run towards the forest, the shadows will hide us for longer, and there'll be bushes to hide in and trees we could climb."
She started the process of gathering the straw underneath the lock once again. "Once this breaks, pull the chain through your collars so that you can run, yes?" A few tentative nods. Sorcha repeated the process that had worked back in the basement, concentrating her will on creating controlled fire. The lock cracked once more, but the cloth that covered the cage had also started to burn, smoke starting to pour from it, little flakes flying away.
"We need to move, now!" she hissed, just as a shout of alarm came from outside. "Fire! Godsdamned fire, lads!" A splashy thud, a water barrel dousing the flames before the canvas was raised and angry faces peered in. "Which one of you is the blasted firebug, eh?" The young dwarf whimpered and the man swung his crossbow towards him. The blonde woman, Lyssa, rode back towards the scene.
"One chance, tell me who's responsible for this? Don't think you're so valuable that we wouldn't kill you."
The dwarf cried out and pointed a finger, aimed towards both Sorcha and Yllena who were huddled next to each other. A bolt flew into the cage, lodged straight into Yllena's throat and killed her in an instant. Sorcha screamed in terror and ran for the cage door, knocking it open.
"Stop right there or the other two die as well," Lyssa said in a voice chill with malice. Sorcha froze.
"Too easy," the woman laughed. One of the others caught her arm. "Can't go killing all the slaves, Lyssa, not good business, specially not when we have buyers ready in Mirabar." With that tiny hope, Sorcha burst out of the door and ran for the shaded woodland, gathering shadow around herself like a shroud. She crouched, hidden within a bush, stilling her breathing, knowing to wait for her pursuers to run past.
The open cage door had proved too tempting and the two boys took their chance to escape as well. The human ran west, into the scrubland at an angle from her position, making decent time. Two of the slavers chased him, the most obvious escapee, but the woman turned back. The dwarf ran along the road, wailing until his cries were suddenly cut off.
Sorcha made her way deeper into the forest, quiet and slow, hidden in her shadows, ducking down when she heard the returning slavers. She could hear a scraping noise across the forest floor, the sound of heavy limbs catching on branches and the grumbling sound of the men, but she didn't dare raise her head enough to look.
Astarion was staring at her, gently stroking the back of her neck, listening intently.
"I hid, all the way up the Long Road, skulking in shadows and wrapped in pilfered rags so that no one saw the iron collar. Until Yartar, until the Hand removed it for me." Her eyes filled with tears and she burrowed her face into the blankets. My fault, all my fault. I should have had a better plan, if they were going to follow me. Instead I encouraged them into something they couldn't cope with.
Sorcha felt his arms tighten around her as she finished talking. She was shaking, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Try to sleep for a while," he said, kissing her hair. "You're safe now, I'll keep watch."
He waited until her breathing slowed and carefully tucked the blanket up and around her neck, keeping the warmth in and the shadows out.