Chapter Text
I was sitting in an outcropping at the edge of camp, watching the sun come up over the Chionthar below. One arm rested on my bent knee, a piece of paper clutched loosely in my hand. I was debating letting it go, to flutter aimlessly in the wind, gone forever.
‘In Ketheric, I see our failures made manifest. He did not fall - he was pushed. His grief was twisted by shadow, and still we did not act until his light was all but snuffed.’
I found it in my pack last night while emptying and repacking it instead of resting. The old and yellowed piece of paper fell out of my spare clothes, rolled up and tied with a shadow cursed vine, a dried pressed night orchid slipped in front.
Halsin.
He must have tucked it into my things before he left. He wanted me to know about this, that he saw Ketheric as a personal failure. If he was still here I’d tell him none of this was on him; he wasn’t First Druid at the time, he wasn’t responsible. And Isobel’s death had been an accident.
To be fair, Ketheric definitely wasn’t blameless in his own fall, but the fact that Halsin recognised that others may have contributed to it, could have prevented the worst of it, that he agreed something should have been done to help him sooner, was somewhat vindicating.
The meaning was loud and clear: under any other circ*mstance, if Thaniel’s life hadn't been tied to Ketheric’s death, Halsin would have supported me in my decision to attempt to redeem Ketheric. I had the proof of it in my hand. But that just made his decision to leave so much worse. I understand his reasons, but somehow this note made the hole he left behind feel a lot bigger.
He could be here helping me right now if not for Thaniel. He would sit in on my debriefs with Ketheric so it wasn’t just the two of us butting heads over a bottle of wine. He could be something for me to put my back up against while dealing with that monster residing in my pocket. His had always been the cooler head when I lost mine.
With a sigh I cleared my throat and wiped a tear from my cheek, tucking the note back into my pocket.
“You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?” Astarion was approaching behind me, a casual grin on his face. I hesitated for a second before granting him a slight smile of my own.
“Get over here,” I said, nodding my head to the patch of dirt beside me and then turning back to watch the gradually lightening sky. Below, a ship was sailing down the river towards the dock, looking like it was flying above the glassy water. I shifted a little when he settled himself down next to me, his legs dangling over the side of the outcropping with mine.
“Everyone still sleeping?” I asked. He nodded.
“Most,” he said. “Gale was snoring loudly when I left, but Jaheira is already up and directing her minions to pack up.”
“Harpers.”
“They do her bidding, don’t they?” That managed to get a chuckle out of me and he bumped my shoulder lightly with his. “There it is. I thought you’d forgotten how.”
“It’s your job now to make me laugh?”
“Always,” he said. I held that small smile for a second, but then it faded again just as quickly.
“I have a lot to think about,” I admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do. About…” I nodded in the figurative direction of last night.
“There’s not much we can do about it,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone of its own. “At least right now. And is it so terrible that you're being ’forced’ to do something you were going to do anyway?” I shot him a look, surprised by that comment. I couldn’t decide if he was being serious or not. I thought he of all people would understand.
“I hate this feeling,” I said instead of answering, looking down to watch my hands twisting in my lap. “Not being in control of my own path, my actions being dictated by someone - something - else; it’s too close to who I used to be. My whole life all I ever did was follow orders. That used to be enough for me; I took comfort in it, even. But now I loathe it.”
“Because you’ve grown,” he nodded thoughtfully.
I turned to lock eyes with him and he shifted a little so he was half facing me, pointing out towards the city across the river. “If I was forced to go back to Cazador now, after all I’ve seen and done, it would be worse for me than if I’d never left. Sure I’d be punished cruelly for my…’insolence’, but after that…” he paused with a slight grimace, thinking about it.
“It’s not that the torture and the abuse would be any worse than before,” he explained. “Before, pain was all I’d ever known. I was…used to it,” he said, that word filled with disgust. “Now that I’ve been freed, if I was to be in that situation again I would know what I was missing. I'd know what it’s like to not have to endure that pain. I’ve tasted freedom; after that, going back would be intolerable.”
I sighed softly, digging at some dirt trapped under my fingernail. “I’ve been lied to and manipulated by those closest to me for my entire life,” I said. “Last night I found out it had happened again without me realising it, and it was…intolerable.” His hand rested my thigh, squeezing gently in comfort.
“But you saw right through it,” he said.
“Only because it revealed its true nature,” I sighed. “Those dreams…it knew exactly how to get to me where I was weakest. I was sunk.”
“But you didn't let that monster get away with it. I’m proud of you, Wen.” I felt a hint of a smile tug at my lips and leaned my head on his shoulder, lacing my hand with his and watching the sky lighten from cobalt and turquoise to teal and gold.
“We'll be home tomorrow,” I said, changing the subject. My eyes were fixed on the city spread out in front of us across the water. From this vantage point, we could see everything: the walled city, the smaller suburbs that had flowered out around it, the heavily built up and populated bridge across the Chionthar, and part of the town of Rivington on the other side. The walled city used to be my home, but now it’s Rivington I’m eager to get back to. My little cottage on the east side. Hopefully it hasn’t been broken into while I was gone - all my stuff is there.
“Today,” he amended, nodding to the sun just starting to crest the horizon. “You've been out here all night.” I hummed softly in answer, nodding back. Right. Sunrise. I rubbed my dry, scratchy eyes with my free hand. Gods, I’m tired.
“You nervous?” I asked. “With his connections, Cazador will probably find out you're back as soon as we set foot in the city.” He shifted a little, letting out a groan of discomfort.
“It doesn't matter how I feel,” he said. “I'm not going to cower in fear until he finds me hiding in a corner. I need to do something…I need to find one of the other spawn so I can wring out of them when and where the ritual is happening.”
The ritual. The ritual. Godsdamnit. “I’d just as soon avoid them,” I said. We've had this conversation a few times before already since Raphael told him what his scars mean, but it keeps coming back around as if his thoughts were stuck in a never-ending loop. I was attempting to disarm him with logic, again. “If he needs you to complete this ritual, keeping you far away from it is probably the easiest way to stop him.”
“And keep me from completing the ritual myself, is that it?” he responded, his tone suddenly sharp. I groaned and turned away, getting to my feet.
“Astarion…”
“This is the only thing I’ve ever asked of you,” he said, raising his voice and following me as I walked away from him. “Why do you always fight me on this?” I stopped walking and sighed, turning to look at him.
“I’m not fighting, I’m…concerned.”
“About what?”
“You. This.” I realised how that sounded only after the words left my mouth and stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm. “Power changes people, Astarion. Hells, you change the second the topic is brought up at all. And that much power…”
“The power to walk in the sun,” he said. “True freedom. Don’t you want that for me?”
“Of course I do,” I said, “but not like this.” I approached him, taking his face in my hands so he had no choice but to meet my eyes and see how much this was scaring me. “I don’t want you to change.”
“I won’t,” he promised. He stepped forward, my hands slipping down to his shoulders as his arms slid around my waist, pulling me close. His voice lowered in another sudden tone shift. “If I complete the ritual, I promise I’ll stay the same lovable rogue you’ve always known, darling.”
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“You only call me ‘darling' when you're deflecting,” I said, I started pulling away but his hands tightened around me, trapping me against him.
“And when I'm being cute,” he smirked, leaning in, seeking a kiss. I pulled back a little.
“You can’t just end every fight with a kiss,” I complained.
“Were we fighting?” he smirked, ducking his head to press a kiss to the pulse point behind my ear, something that always makes me shiver. A broken sigh left my lips; he knew exactly what he was doing. And he was going to get away with it too. Again.
“Astarion…”
“Shh shh shh shh,” he murmured, kissing his way down my neck. I groaned softly and he pulled me closer.
“Astarion,” I whispered, “we don't have time...”
“Sure we do,” he murmured into my skin, trailing kisses along my neckline.
I held out for another moment before finally giving in, lifting one hand to cradle his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as I tipped my head back. Immediately his lips descended on my throat, fangs barely grazing my skin sending shivers down my spine, following the trail of barely scratched skin with his lips. It had been so long since he'd initiated anything intimate between us beyond his regular feedings, this was a surprise.
“You're toying with me,” I said, my breath hitching, “don’t start something you don't intend to finish.”
“Maybe I do intend to,” he said, pausing to look up at me. I lifted my hand, caressing his face, my eyes searching his. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw his mask go back up, just a little.
“Don't force yourself into this,” I said gently. “If you’re not ready…”
“Halsin’s gone.”
“So?” I asked, “I can take care of myself.”
“And I can take care of myself,” he echoed with a cheeky grin. Another deflection from talking about it. I was disappointed, but let him win.
“Yeah,” I said, allowing a small grin of my own, my thumb gliding lightly over his bottom lip which he kissed and then drew in between his lips. “I may have - accidentally - spotted you ‘taking care of yourself’ once.” I don't know why I expected embarrassment from him, but instead his eyes were full of mischief.
“Oh, I know,” he ducked his head with a grin, “so have I.” His voice lowered to a purr and he leaned in to whisper in my ear, his cool breath on my skin making me shiver.
“I remember one time we were curled up together in your tent. You thought I was still in reverie so you slipped your hand down your pants. That must have been quite the stimulating memory you experienced that night,” he murmured into my neck, pressing a soft kiss to where his breath was tickling my skin.
“You thought you were being so sneaky the way you shifted in my arms so you could touch yourself. The noises you made, those soft gasps, the little shakes of excitement. It was almost too much for me to hold myself back.” I groaned as he described it, biting my lip as arousal tightened the muscles inside me, desperate need starting to burn between my legs. Godsdamnit, Astarion.
“You've gotten better at being quiet, my love, but that little moan when you finished yourself off was exquisite.” His teeth blazed another trail over my skin, just barely scraping the surface as he pulled back to look at me.
“Maybe we should arrange to ‘accidentally’ spot each other again sometime,” he finished with a cheeky little grin. I couldn't stand it anymore.
“Gods, that's hot,” I whimpered just as he closed the gap between our lips. The breath left my lungs, my heart fluttered, my pulse quickened. I felt an electric jolt shoot down my spine from the sheer passion in his kiss. My body was aching for him and he'd barely touched me. How in the hells was it so easy for him to do this? I haven't felt this level of intensity for anyone in…a long time. Not since Amdír.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Jaheira's voice behind me was like a bucket of ice water. “Will you be joining us, or are we leaving you behind?”
I immediately pulled away and turned towards her as if I’d been caught by amme doing something naughty. Astarion ignored her completely, shifting his kisses to my cheek and jaw instead. I shooed him away with a smirk.
“You're ready to go already?” I asked, surprised, clearing my throat and taking a step away from Astarion, though he held on to my hand. The sun had finally come up, and behind her I could see Harpers hurrying around in camp.
“My minions are efficient packers,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll go on ahead, but I'll meet you later in the city as planned.” I nodded to her with a half-salute.
“Be careful,” I said. She lifted one arm in a backwards wave to me as she walked away.
That's about two thirds of us gone. The surviving tieflings had elected to go their own way a few days ago, and now Jaheira and her Harpers. That left me, Astarion and Gale, Isobel and Aylin, Ketheric and Zevlor.
Originally, the plan was to make camp in the same woods outside the city as I had after I broke my oath, but with fewer people in our group, I had to scrap the idea. There was no way I was leaving Ketheric alone while we went into the city. We had to all go together now, and the risk of his being discovered just shot way up.
Everyone else was still getting ready when I headed back to camp. Gale shoved a bowl of cooked oats and fruit into my hand the second he saw me and almost handed one to Astarion before realising it was wasted on him.
“Eat,” he said to me. “An army marches on its stomach.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a grin and a mocking salute. “Is Ketheric ready to move?” I asked him after I ate a mouthful of breakfast. Gale was about to answer, and then nodded over my shoulder when our newest recruit ‘Kelubar Stonefist’ approached behind me. It really was a good disguise; the sight of a large blue half-orc walking toward me in camp was jarring, to say the least.
“I feel ridiculous,” Ketheric grumbled.
“It looks perfect,” I said after I swallowed another mouthful of food. I gestured at him with my spoon. “Look, you’re too high-profile. I don’t want anyone to see you walking into the city, this is the easiest way. Just follow my lead and do what I tell you until we get to the safe house.”
“Right. Am I expected to roar and pound my chest at some point to sell the disguise?” he asked in a mocking tone.
I rolled my eyes at the racist comment. “Just do what I tell you,” I sighed.
The words had barely left my mouth when my attention was drawn to a bright flash in the sky. A streak of white and silver was speeding across the river, and when I lowered my gaze, Isobel was there making her way towards me.
She briefly glanced at the imposing image of her father’s disguise, then side-stepped him to approach me without giving him any opportunity to speak to her.
“Aylin had to leave,” she explained. “She sent her regards and asked me to tell you she ‘shall return once arrangements have been made,’ whatever that means.” My brows knit together at the cryptic message, but I nodded to her.
“Thank you Isobel. Hey, can you help me with something before we leave?” She nodded and I guided her away from Ketheric, towards a small pile of packed supplies. I wouldn’t be taking most of what I'd gathered on this journey, just what I could easily carry on my person and my back. We all had to travel light now, and since we were headed into the city we no longer had need of most of our camping gear. The plan was to stash everything here out of sight in case we needed to come back for it later.
“What is it?” she asked curiously. I stopped her and started fussing with one of the packs in front of me, pulling out the change of clothes on top that I’d elected to leave behind, showing it to her.
“Nothing, I just wanted to get you out of earshot of your father,” I murmured. I stepped closer to her, offering the shirt to her which she took. “Just…look like you’re considering taking it with you. I need to know if you’re going to be okay without Aylin here. It’s just me, Gale, Astarion and your father now. Are you okay with that?”
She picked up the shirt and peered closely at it, making a good show of assessing it for her own use. “I appreciate your concern but I’ll be fine. I can handle him.”
“Are you sure? Say the word and we’ll make arrangements to keep you two separated. Gale can be very distracting when he wants to be. And sometimes when he doesn’t.” Isobel chuckled softly but shook her head.
“No, but thank you. I need to learn to live with him being here. And he needs to learn that he doesn’t own me. But it’s nice to know you’ll be there to help if I need it.” She handed the shirt to me and I stowed it back into the sack it came from.
“Anytime,” I said with a smile.
-
Rivington had grown substantially since I left it. A new settlement of tents and hastily constructed buildings had sprouted up to the east, expanding it from the road to the river's edge. And, in front of the main entrance, a massive crowd of refugees were undulating against the barrier to entry like the crashing waves of the sea.
“Hells,” Isobel murmured beside me. The road forward was completely clogged with people, the roar of the crowd growing louder the closer we got to it. Farmers, families, merchants, travellers, many flavours of desperate people were all clamouring to get inside. What may have been a lineup a long time ago has now become a mob, packed tightly together, shouting, shoving, screaming, crying. Up front, guarding the entrance to the town was a line of Flaming Fist, steadfastly keeping everyone out. The Council had thought heavy security was necessary to deal with refugees, it seemed.
With a heavy sigh I turned to Zevlor, who thus far had been quietly following us at a distance. I’d been putting this off, but now it was time to cut the cord.
“This is as far as you go with us, my friend,” I said. Civil, but firm. He met my eyes with a look that was almost surprised, hardening into resignation. He nodded.
“I understand,” he said with a bow of his head. “And I’m grateful for all you have done for me when you didn't have to. I still think this is a mistake. I can be a valuable asset to you.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but I can’t have someone at my side I can’t rely on when things get tough. I’m sorry, Zevlor, my decision stands.” He took a deep breath, and then sighed it out slowly with a nod.
“Very well. I wish you good luck on your quest.” With that, he walked ahead of us, and was soon lost to us in the crowd.
I pushed forward towards the head of the sea of bodies, but it was like trying to go through a brick wall. After a few minutes of trying Ketheric took it upon himself to take the lead, shouting in a commanding voice to make way. The people seemed far more inclined to move for the large half-orc.
I was nervous about it at first - the illusion Gale cast on him wouldn’t last with so many people looking at him, crowding around him, touching him. But that was just it, nobody wanted to go anywhere near him. The crowd parted in front of him, creating a gap for the rest of us to follow. Soon we were at the front of the mob and I was face to face with one of the Flaming Fist guarding the entrance.
“No admittance,” she said in a bored voice that told me she’d already said this dozens of times today. “We are full up on refugees at this time.”
“I'm not a refugee, I live here,” I said with a frown, sure that should be enough. Her face changed slightly, a bit more interested, a bit more respectful, taking in the cared for state of my armour and glancing behind me at the rest of our group.
“Do you have proof of that?” she asked. I opened my mouth then closed it, not understanding the question.
“What kind of proof? I was born in the city, I’ve never needed any before.”
“Deed of home ownership?” she said.
“I don’t have it on me,” I said, “who carries that around with them?” The guard sighed and rolled her eyes as if I was wasting her time. “Half the people who live in Rivington don’t even own a home, this is ridiculous,” I complained.
“Times change, sweetheart,” she said. “How about a key to your vault at the Counting House?”
“Everyone knows the Counting House skims out of the vaults,” I scoffed, “of course I don’t trust them with my gold.”
“Well if you can’t show me proof of residence, I can’t let you in. Either come up with something or move on.”
“This is outrageous.”
“You don’t like it? Take it up with Lord Gortash.” My jaw dropped. Gortash. This was his doing. I felt a strange tingling on my skin, as if my whole body was suddenly on high alert for danger.
“Oh trust me, I will,” I said irritably, a dark edge creeping into my voice. Her face soured and she looked like she was about to say something we'd both regret.
“We should leave,” Ketheric muttered in my ear before I could say anything more. “Too many eyes around us.” That snapped me out of my dark spiral enough to look up.
He gestured with a nod of his head and I followed his gaze to spot a scrying eye hovering above the crowd I hadn’t noticed before. My sense of danger increased and I immediately backed off, away from the Fist, melting into the crowd behind us. There would be no getting in this way.
Soon we were caught up in the mob again, pressing in on our group from all sides. Someone pushed into Isobel and knocked her to the ground, and when I turned to help her up the crowd had moved in and forced us further away from her. A few minutes later I saw her head pop up a few metres away but then she disappeared again.
Before I could stop him Ketheric turned and stormed after her. The crowd parted again, enough so that Isobel could walk hesitantly towards him. He didn’t say a word to her, just waited for her to get ahead of him and back at my side.
“We have to get out of here,” I said to Astarion. He’d taken my hand as soon as we entered the crowd so we wouldn’t be separated.
“There’s another way in,” he murmured in my ear, “if you know where to look. Or, at least, there was when I left.” He groaned as someone bumped hard into him, then looked up and around for the others.
He caught Gale's attention and signalled him to go back the way we came, out of the mob. He nodded back to him and made a quick hand motion, disappearing on the spot and reappearing in a cloud of silvery mist well outside the crowd where Astarion had pointed.
“Showoff,” Astarion muttered with no small amount of jealousy. I smirked, but it faded quickly; I had to focus on our own escape.
It was easier said than done for the rest of us to get out; Astarion and I were pinned on all sides and everyone was pushing us forward, towards the gate. Trying to go backwards, against momentum, made the crushing stream of bodies even harder to get through. In the end I started pulling out food and coin from my pack to give to the people in my way, bribing them to let us pass. It took almost a half hour and all the silver in my pocket to get out of the throng this way, but we could finally breathe.
Ketheric and Isobel were already out, waiting with a very uncomfortable looking Gale standing between them.
“Follow me,” Astarion said.
He led us off the road, into a small wooded area next to the town where we could circle around it and down to the river. It took a few hours of carefully picking our way over uneven ground. The path gently sloped downward and curved wide to the west around the town towards the Chionthar, beneath the bridge between Rivington and the walled city.
“We used to use this way to get in and out of the city if we needed to,” Astarion explained as we walked. “The spawn, I mean. Cazador didn’t want us finding too many victims in Baldur’s Gate and the surrounding districts; too suspicious, so we had to go further out.” The way he said it sent a chill up my spine. His words were cold, matter-of-fact, but held a hint of loathing.
“Sometimes we got lucky and we could cross the river under the bridge at low tide, but it's too deep and choppy today. We'll have to cross the bridge, but I can still get us into Rivington.” I was watching him closely as he led us further, and then made a sharp turn as we followed the coast. I could see the other side of the river from here around the massive bridge supports obstructing my view. Baldur's Gate. So close, yet so far.
He led us across some wide, flat stones under the bridge, to the round, gated entrance to Rivington’s sewers.
“Wait,” Ketheric protested, “you want us to go in there?” He grimaced at it in disgust. The smell was already overpowering even from outside. I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“What, like it's any worse than that butcher shop beneath Moonrise Towers?”
“You're not dragging my daughter through the sewers!” Ketheric roared back. I glanced at Isobel who looked annoyed, but held her tongue.
“Do you want to go back and wait with the mob?” Astarion shot irritably over his shoulder at him, “we might get through before your former friends get here…” Ketheric grumbled but stayed silent, grinding his teeth and watching Astarion start on picking the lock on the sewer grate. There was no argument from anyone after that, and a few seconds later it was open.
The sewers were a series of twisting tunnels that ran underneath Rivington. Slightly smaller and newer than those under Baldur's Gate, but no less vile to be in. They varied from five to eight feet in circumference with several inches of liquid draining out the way we came. Most of the tunnels were natural caverns in the town's underground, but some were man made, varying from carefully dug stretches of tunnel lined with stonework to crumbling, shoddy workmanship, hastily dug as the temporary expansion of Rivington became a permanent settlement.
Astarion seemed certain of which direction he was leading us in though, his decades of finding his way in and out of the city without detection working to our advantage.
We hadn't gone far when we came to a crossroads, a large room with tunnels leading off in all directions. Astarion paused, unsure.
“I remember this room,” he said to me quietly, “but I’m having trouble remembering which of these goes where.” I looked around. Four different tunnels leading off in the cardinal directions.
“We’re heading north,” I guessed, “which direction did you want us to go?” He thought about it, and then pointed to his left.
“East,” he said, sounding more confident. We followed him, and at the end of the tunnel it branched off into two smaller ones. The look on Astarion’s face told me this wasn’t where he wanted us to be, but I didn’t call him on it.
He led us down one of the paths, and it led to a chamber that was being used for a combination of storage and a makeshift sleeping area. Five sleeping mats arranged along the perimeter of the small room. All of them were occupied.
By corpses.
They were all adults, various races and genders, all lying in a pool of their own blood. From their clothes and scant possessions, I immediately assumed they were refugees.
“They’re fresh,” Isobel said after kneeling next to one to investigate. Astarion looked at them curiously, and then moved on to scout the tunnels ahead. “I’d say it happened this morning. They all have the same wound. And they’re all missing their right hand.”
I frowned, looking closer at the victims. Throats slit and hands removed. A pattern. A serial killer. All of them were killed in the same gruesome fashion, and arranged in a way that obviously meant something to their killer. The style was different from the murders I knew about when I was abducted. This was someone else.
It looked like they were killed here, in their beds, which begged the question - either there were five perpetrators all with the same motive and technique, or one , who was somehow able to kill without raising the alarm of the other victims all sleeping next to each other. If I was doing it, and I wanted to do it in this way, I would have immobilised them all first somehow.
Looking around the crime scene, I spotted a discarded water bottle near one of the victims. I picked it up and smelled it, confirming my suspicions. “Poison,” I said aloud, “or maybe a potion, but definitely not water.” Isobel looked up at me in alarm, but I shifted my eyes away from her to take in the corpses again.
“Gods…” a sense of dread settled in my stomach. “I know him,” I said, kneeling beside the familiar face. “He was in the grove with his wife. They’d just gotten married. They were planning to settle down in the city and raise a family.” It seemed so long ago now. Back before we knew the full extent of the deep sh*t we were all in. I frowned at the poor Tiefling lying in front of me. I never could have guessed it would end this way for him.
“His wife wanted a dog when they got to the city, but they don't allow dogs in Baldur's Gate. So…they were going to get a cat.” I swallowed hard, smudging a tear from my cheek with a dirty hand.
“She wasn't there when we rescued him and the other prisoners in Moonrise. I don't think he ever recovered from that.” I sighed sadly, clenching my jaw as I started going through his pockets. All he had on him was a handwritten list of plans for once they reached the city. I immediately put it back.
“Hey,” Astarion poked his head around the corner into the room, “this way.”
I followed after him but hesitated stepping out into the wide cavern beyond. A trail of blood led further into the cavern, leading to an open stone door in a recess carved into the tunnel to our left. This was clearly crafted by a skilled stone mason, with carefully laid cut stone floors lit by a sconce by the open door.
“Somebody’s cellar?” I asked him, looking at the stacks of barrels and crates crowded around the open door. Astarion caught my eye and shook his head.
“You’ve got to see this.”
There was an altar immediately inside the door, with incense, liturgy, and lit candles on it. Benches were arranged in rows in the slightly sunken floor in front of it, prayer books left abandoned on each one. I was standing where the priest would when delivering a sermon.
Isobel stepped forward and started leafing through the book left on the altar. “Ilmater,” she said softly. “This place is dedicated to the Broken God.” I turned around, realising we’d just come through a secret entrance out of the back wall of an underground sanctuary, left standing open.
“There's a temple to Ilmater in Rivington,” I said, meeting Isobel's eyes. “We must be in its basem*nt.”
I glanced over at Astarion to find him already trying to grab my attention, pointing at the steps out of view in front of the altar. I frowned a question at him and walked around it to find a large pool of blood splashed across the steps, leading in great sticky streaks towards the door on the opposite side of the sanctuary. No body, just great puddles of blood.
“Someone killed the priest?” I guessed, looking up at the others.
“Fitting for the god of martyrs,” Astarion quipped. Isobel looked pained. Ketheric crouched in front of the largest pool of blood, touching it with one gloved finger.
“Starting to dry,” he said. “I’d guess this happened several hours ago. Probably around the same time as those poor souls we found.” I swallowed hard. The killer could still be nearby.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. We couldn’t go back the way we came though, the entire reason for being here was to get into the city. We've already succeeded, we just needed a way to street level.
Another trail of blood led to the open door of a cellar. The place had been ransacked, barrels and baskets that should be full of food were all empty. In the middle of the room was a ladder leading up to a hatch.
“Anyone could be on the other side of that,” Astarion cautioned. “It could be empty, or we could run right into whoever did that,” he said, gesturing to the blood spatters.
“It’s our only way up,” I reasoned.
“We could go back,” Ketheric said, “take a different path.” He was looking at Isobel with the anxiety of a father worried for his daughter’s safety. I chewed my lip and considered heading back, but we were already here. If this was indeed the Temple of the Open Hand, it was a sanctuary. A place dedicated to charity and assisting the poor and suffering. If anyone would help us, it would be a bunch of Ilmater’s faithful. Despite the gory murders we found, these would be kind, giving people.
“Come on,” I said, turning to start climbing the ladder. At the top I hesitated, looking down at my group; Isobel at the bottom of the ladder below me, the others crowded around her and looking up at me expectantly.
I pushed up on the trap door.
Immediately I saw several faces peering down at me in surprise from inside the room above. All of them were wearing heavy armour and all of them looked angry.
But one.
One in particular looked positively shocked to see me.
“Amdír…” I breathed.
Frozen, my heart was in my throat as I watched him step towards me, one gloved fist aimed right for my face.
Then, nothing.
