Larian Studios Forums Baldur's Gate III Baldur's Gate III - General Forever Beyond: A BG Fic

There are those who spend their entire lives seeking. Some for treasure, or glory, or power; for those there is never any satisfaction. Those that are wiser are aware that what they truly seek after is something far more intangible; a fleeting feeling, or a place they glimpsed once in a dream as a child. The seeking may never end, but in striving to reach there perhaps they may once again see a glimpse.

The Vortigan - the last survivor of a hardy tribe - lived the life of a warrior. It was a simple life. Pure. Roaming the realms in search of ever stronger foes; orcs, vampires, dragons, demigods, all had fallen to his blade. And yet, his many victories brought him no satisfaction.

His journey brought him to the halls of Nargrim, The Immortal Dwarf King. Before his stone throne, as the golden statues of ancestors watched on, their axes clashed; the king in his ornate armor, and the barbarian - near seven-feet of rippling, glistening, muscle - sparks searing his skin as he wore just a fur cloak, boots, and bracers, to protect him. He required nothing more, knowing that those with no respect for death made for poor warriors. They became foolhardy. Sloppy. Easy to kill.

Vortigan did not know if that was what the bards would call irony. Just that, as with every enemy before, the king fell to his knees, blood spurting from the stump of his neck as his body slumped and his head rolled. A man of few words, Vortigan disdainfully grunted his respects, heaving his greataxe to begin the long walk to the gargantuan doors that led outside.

“Fool,” Nargrim rasped, “I cannot die.” The Vortigan turned, heavy shoulders hunched, to see that ‘immortal’ was not just a ridiculous self-given nickname. The body had found its head, holding it aloft over the neck, veins and muscles and other tissues worming and coiling, reattaching themselves. With a slurp the head pulled down, the skin resealing around his throat, and the hall echoed with manic laughter, “you see? The soothsayers were right! I will be king in perpetuity!”
“Hm,” Vortigan tersely nodded, stroking his narrow beard as he considered things.

“So long as even the smallest piece of me remains, I will keep returning, and you will tire. You simply cannot win. I, AM, INVINCI-”

His deliberations over, Vortigan launched himself back across the hall in a single bound, fist flattening and splattering the dwarf king’s nose. When Nargrim came around he found himself in chains being dragged deep into the bowels of his own fortress. Still he cackled, “you think you can keep me chained? Best you surrender now, lest you incur my true wrath!”

“Hmmm,” Vortigan grumbled.

“It is my destiny to rule all! Always! And you - you and all the traitors that hired you will suffer the death of a million worms!”

“Hm-hm.”

Had the king from his throne taken more of an interest in how anything in his kingdom got made, he might have realized sooner where they were going. As it was, it was only as the cast was being closed over him that his pupils filled his irises and his voice trembled from within, “w-wait! I-I can get you anything you want! Coin? Jewels? Wives? Any lass in the kingdom - she’s yours!”

It was pathetic, how the self-proclaimed mighty always begged in the end. The pleas were soon drowned out, first by the creaking and grinding of turning valves, then by the hissing and bubbling of molten gold pouring into the cast. The king’s agonized screams became a faint gargle, then finally silence save the crepitation of cooling metal.

Later, a new statue stood in the hall. The Vortigan placed a crown upon the head whose face would be twisted in terror for the next million years, then stood back to raise a toast. “Nargrim. King, in perpetuity.”

He took his tankard to the throne, and there lounged as an elderly dwarf inspected the statue, knocking it with a tiny hammer. “I suppose, theoretically, he might get out. Eventually. But I guess that makes him the future world’s problem. If there even still is a world by then. No, I’m going to call that job done. I’ll fetch your reward, if you like. Or you can just keep the statue?”

Vortigan’s nose creased as he shook his head.

“Right, so… excuse me,” the dwarf bowed, hurrying away to leave The Vortigan alone with his black robed watchers.

One of them, a human woman, grinned ecstatically, chest heaving as she knelt by the throne. “Another victory, my lord!”

“Of course I won,” he frowned, “I always win.”

She craned her neck as if basking in his radiance, “perhaps you’d care to celebrate?”

He swung around, mountain-gray eyes looking down into hers. Slowly, his finger traced across her cheek, and then around her neck to undo the bun of her long brown hair. She closed her eyes, waiting. Then the tankard smashed upon the ground and his hand snapped around her throat, using only a fraction of his strength to close off the air to her lungs. A fraction more would have crushed it. He growled before pushing her away, “find me an opponent actually worth my time.”

Waterdeep; The City of Splendors, The Crown of the North, and also home to the Biannual Bifurcated Biffy Festival. And here, in a small courtroom, too big and boisterous a crowd had gathered. The judge was confused by such a turnout; as far as he’d been aware that afternoon’s case was a minor matter of some scuffle in a park. It transpired that the alleged victim of the crime was someone who at least fancied himself important; a tall, slick haired noble sporting a black eye with a bandage over his nose and one arm in a sling.

“He’s really making a meal of it,” the defendant grumbled under her breath, otherwise keeping her head down. She only came to this city to get some cheese.

“Order!” The gray haired judge determinedly banged his gavel. “ORDER!” After a moment things settled enough for individual voices to be heard above the commotion. “Read out the charges.”

A member of the city watch stepped forward in his green, white, and gold tunic, rolling out a scroll then intoning, “on the eve in question, the good Sir Nevil Windbreaker was returning to his villa from a fund-raiser for orphans, accompanied by other distinguished and charitable nobility and their guards. They were enjoying the serene environs of one of our fair city’s many fine parks, whereupon the party came upon the accused - the witch known as Aerie of Faenya-Dail - passed out in a bush. Fearing the lady to be in distress, Sir Nevil attempted to resuscitate her. Yet on coming round, far from being grateful for her timely rescue, the witch did set a flaming pig upon her saviors and attack them with her spells. The party attempted to restrain her and during the scuffle a magic orb did strike Sir Nevil in his manhood, thus placing the future of one of Waterdeep’s oldest bloodlines in grave peril. It was only thanks to the intervention of our brave city watch that the witch finally surrendered and was taken into custody, and the noble gonads were saved.” Some of the crowd were not as restrained as the watchman on hearing the word gonads. Nevertheless he continued to read from the sheet he had been given, “the charges are thus; assault, resisting arrest, illegal summoning of a swine, and attempted genocide.”

“Your honor,” Sir Windbreaker himself stepped up to address the judge and baying crowd, “I have a dozen witnesses who will corroborate this version of events,” he side eyed the diminutive elf stood with her head bowed in the dock. “I see no reason to waste the court’s time by entertaining this vagabond and foreigner,” his teeth gritted as if that were a dirty word, “who has no respect for our ways or the rule of law, any longer.”

Jeering and thunderous clapping and tapping from the crowd. One little boy threw an apple core which struck the elf on the cheek. She pretended not to notice, although it stung her more than the chains fastened tight around her wrists. It was like being back in the circus.

“ORDER!” The gavel came down repeatedly as members of the watch warned the crowd that neither they nor anything in their possession may cross their line. “Our laws demand that the accused is given a chance to speak. So, young lady,” he turned to the dock, ignoring the fact that as an elf she was likely two to three times his age, “have you anything to say?”

Aerie attempted to stand up straight, tugging down the hem of her sky-blue tunic and shaking strands of pale blonde hair away from her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she meekly said, “I-I-”

“WITCH!” came a screech from the crowd. “HUSSY!” Now where did that come from? She was being tried for walloping, not trolloping. Various other insults were being leveled at her, Aerie not knowing if the bile was genuine or if Windbreaker had organized it all. In her experience crowds didn’t need to be given much reason to jeer, yet it was certainly having an affect. Not because she cared about the insults, but because she clearly heard every single one along with every other sound in the room; the buzzing of a bee, a man snoring, a couple hidden somewhere at the back kissing. All of it. All at once. Like hundreds of mice scurrying and scratching around inside her head.

She swayed and swallowed, trying hard to push the extraneous noise out of her pointy ears. “I… I asked them to-”

“ORDER!” The judge hammered, each blow feeling like an icicle being driven behind her eye. “Young lady; you’re going to have to speak up.”

Another swallow accompanied by a breath. “I said, I asked them to leave me alone-”

“WITCH! HUSSY! ORDAAH!” The voices all came at once again, each slam of the frustrated judge’s gavel causing her to shiver. “YOU-NEED-TO-TALK-LOUDER!”
Aerie ducked inside the dock, knuckles turning white as she clenched. Well, whiter. She just needed a moment to breathe. To focus. She knew she was going down no matter what, but would rather go down swinging. She just needed to get her body to cooperate.

“Your honor,” Windbreaker snorted, “I think it is clear the defendant is in no fit mental state to answer questions, and any testimony she may give should be deemed unreliable.”

The judge hammered, leaning over his podium to ask an aide, “perhaps we should get a cleric in here?”

There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing another healer could help her with anyway. Tied to her belt was a small necklace, pendant in the form of a fluffy pink owlbear crudely carved and painted on wood. She’d been allowed to hold onto it because no magic could be detected within; just a piece of child’s jewelery. Yet as she breathed, focused on its round eyes, she heard her say:

‘Heya, kid. Don’t worry; I know you can do great out there.’

“It’s just,” Aerie sighed, repeating a conversation from the past, “so many people gawking and talking at me at once. I can’t pick out which ones I should be listening to.”

‘Well, the only voice you need to listen to is yours. Just imagine the rest of them as children. You know everyone was a child once; just the boring ones try to deny it. Even Jaheira was. You think she was born with a druid’s club in her hand and stern look on her face?’

“I think her first words were scolding the midwife for doing it all wrong.”

‘Nah. I bet she had pigtails when she was little, and ran around collecting daisies in a frumpy little dress. She’s given me an idea though; just imagine transforming yourself into something big, like a tiger, or an owlbear. Don’t actually do it, just imagine… what are you?’

“I’m,” Aerie sighed again, already feeling silly, “I’m an owlbear.”

‘Sorry, didn’t quite catch that; what’d you say you were?’

“An owlbear.”

‘Fowlwere?’

“Owlbear!”

‘Well then, let’s hear you roar!’

“I’M AN OWLBEAR!”

The courtroom fell eerily quiet, save the sound of Aerie slapping her hands over her mouth when she realized it was because of her. Well, at least now she had everyone’s attention, and the opportunity to say her piece and be heard.

“I was resting in the park, your honor,” she began, “when Sir Flatulence over there fell down next to me, his fellow nobles charitable enough to laugh as he made smooching noises in my ear and attempted to place his hand on my breast. When I attempted to leave he ordered two guards to block my path and insisted that as a foreigner I had to pay him for using a public park. And so, I summoned forth a creature that best matched the thoughts I was having about Sir Pants-Ripper at the time.”

“So,” the judge concluded, “you’re saying it was self-defense?”

“Your honor,” Sir Windbreaker interrupted, “this is someone with power equal to any archmage. The idea that she might have felt threatened by a few lads out on a stroll is frankly preposterous.”

“Oh,” Aerie confessed, “I did not feel threatened, your honor. I felt angry. How many times might Sir Passes-Gas have taken advantage of someone who hadn’t the power to fight him off?”

“Your honor,” Windbreaker squealed as murmuring spread through the crowd, at least a few questioning whose corner they really wanted to be in. “I insist you stop her from this petulant name-calling!”

“ORDER!” The judge banged, rolling his eyes. “Miss Dail-”

“Um, just Aerie. Sir.”

“I need to remind you that Sir Pas - Sir Windbreaker - is not on trial here, and you have been granted no authority to enact what you consider justice in this city. You especially have no right to judge a noble.”

“No, sir,” she admitted. “But, if wealth and social-standing are considerations in this court, then may your version of justice come to sit on this middle finger, whereupon she may spin.”

That got a cheer and some claps from the audience, and a deep furrowing frown from the judge whose wrist must have been getting tired by now. “And this… attempted genocide… was it an accident?”

“Um,” Aerie cleared her throat, “it was not, your honor. Finding Sir Cheese-Cutter’s manhood actually required pinpoint control and precision.”

The courtroom erupted, Windbreaker straining to be heard screaming, “SLANDERER!” as he threw off the sling trying to get at her. Members of the watch held him back as the judge furiously hammered.

Still, although she felt a twinge of satisfaction and won over some of the crowd, ultimately it was just the word of a strange foreign girl versus that of a local noble. Aerie was prepared and quietly accepting when her sentence came.

“Sir Nevil, you do have a reputation,” the judge glared, “however, vigilantism will not be tolerated here, and nor will the contempt you have shown this court. Aerie of Faenya-Dail, I hereby sentence you to six months. I suggest you use the time to rein in that attitude of yours. Dismissed.”

Two watchmen escorted Aerie from the courtroom back down several flights of stairs to a holding cell.

“Don’t try anything,” the one on her right - a stout, square jawed woman with arms like hammers - said as they marched through the corridors. “Maybe you’re something in all the other places you’ve been, but this is Waterdeep; you can’t swing a dead cat in this town without hitting some wizard or adventurer.”

“Why a dead cat?” Aerie wondered out loud. “Who’s swinging cats around at all?”

“Actually,” the spotty boy on her left interjected, “it refers to a type of whip used on ships, called a cat o’ nine tails.”

“Thank you, Derin. You keep up the reading. Even at my age you can always learn something new.”

“I will,” he enthused, “I’ve actually been reading about you, and the children of Bhaal.”

Aerie frowned, having no idea who wrote these books or what sources they used. Certainly none of the authors ever spoke to her, since if they had she’d have told them she’d spent enough of her life being gawked at and prodded by strangers. “I’m sorry,” was what she sighed, “bet that was really boring.”

“Not at all. The book I’m reading says that you were captured by slavers then sold and put in a cage in a circus.”

“That much is true,” there were some finer details missing. Like how the whole process of being captured then taken hundreds of miles to a strange land she didn’t know and any defiance swiftly and brutally punished all served to shock her into conformity and obedience. But there was no need or will on her part to get into all that. It was all a long time ago now. Right now the courtroom experience had left her feeling drained and she really just wanted to lie down for a while.

“And you once wrestled Viconia De’Vir in a swamp?”

Aerie halted, turning her neck to blink at him. “What books are you reading?”

“Is that not-?”

“That never happened, no,” men and their fantasies, she thought. Although she had to admit to being slightly curious about one thing. “Did I win?”

“You, um, won second place.”

“Figures,” she exhaled. Even though not true that was probably accurate. Unfortunately. “Tell me I at least get to keep my clothes in this clearly very well researched historical document?”

“Errr,” Derin droned like wind slowly being released from a bagpipe.

“I don’t actually want to know.”

Blessedly the door to her cell creaked open, the other escort stepping back from it to release the restraints around the prisoner. “Guess you just can’t enough of bars, eh?”

“Oh,” Aerie said truthfully as she felt the blood return to her fingertips, “compared to my old cage, this is like the royal room at the inn.”

“If it’s any consolation,” the female guard told her as she entered the bare room, “I wish you’d castrated that prick.”

“Thank you, Olga,” Aerie returned a small smile as she went to lie down.

“You know,” Derin astutely observed, “you’re really not much like you are in the books.”

“Well,” she said, curling up fetally on the shelf that served as a bed with her back to the door, “that was all a long time ago. When I might have still cared what other people thought of me.”

“Real life heroes are rarely what you expect, lad,” Olga said. “Did you know Drizzt Do’Urden actually has a terrible stammer? Can hardly even say his own name.”

“That much is not true,” Aerie shook her head, “at least not the stammering part.”

“Right,” the watchmen exchanged a pitying glance, “you know, if you hadn’t pushed it just that little bit too far in there, you’d have probably gotten away with just a slap on the wrist.”

“Yeah,” when she had been a very young adventurer, she’d been surrounded by people all bigger, stronger, faster, and all far more experienced than her. So when she fought she always gave it everything, even when she knew she would lose; she just had to prove she could be as tough as everyone else. “I suppose I never really learned to hold back. I’m sorry. I’m tired. I would just like to sleep now.”

“I thought elves didn’t sleep.”

“It’s a common misconception,” Aerie sighed, wondering if she was ever going to be left alone. But she couldn’t really be offended by innocent curiosity. “We sleep when we’re children. Most have learned to reverie by the time they’re adults, but I was… in a cage. That’s why I can’t stay in places like Suldanessellar; I’m not elf enough for them.” It was a good thing she didn’t care, or not having ever found a place she felt like she truly belonged might have made her feel a bit down. “Anyway,” she yawned, “I like sleep. It lets me dream about a world not full of pompous buffleheads.”

She tried to settle in, but then it started to bother her that she could still feel a draft coming from the door. What were they waiting for out there? Was she going to have to close it herself, just as she was getting comfortable? She sat up, seeing that the watchmen had been handed a letter by a tired looking messenger.
“Apparently,” Derin read, “someone has paid your bail.”

“Who?” Aerie squinted, racking her head. She didn’t know anyone in Waterdeep. She didn’t know a lot of people anywhere to be honest. She wasn’t exactly a socialite; preferred museums, libraries, and quiet nights under the stars. Maybe the Candlekeep monks really wanted their books back, otherwise she couldn’t think of anyone.

“Don’t know,” Derin shrugged, “but they want you to meet them upstairs. Come on.”

Back up to the courthouse, but this time to the back-rooms where records were kept in scrolls and heavy bound books, robed clerks bustling to and fro collecting and filing, each wearing a chain around their necks on which little plates bore their names. Had she the time, Aerie was sure many interesting tidbits could be found here; ordinary people from centuries ago voicing their complaints, tribulations, heartaches. Or maybe it would only be interesting to her, but she planned to move on from this town soon as she found out the identity of her deliverer.

She was shown to one of the rooms, door slamming. She couldn’t see anything except dusty old tomes and boxes stacked on shelves, a slither of sunlight and a shadow at the far end. So she padded around to see who was standing at the window. Her blue eyes shimmered, a heart quickened, a name barely escaping her lips through a sharp intake of breath, “Jaheira?!”

Glowing skin that had weathered many storms, tawny golden-brown hair like a lion’s mane. At least that was how Aerie still saw her. In truth Jaheira’s skin had paled and bore a few wrinkles, her hair grayed some. Still, with the sunlight beaming through the window illuminating motes of dust around her, she looked very pretty.

Aerie’s first instinct was to run up and embrace her, but Jaheira was having none of that, freezing her in place with a brusque flick of the wrist. It wasn’t any kind of magic; just her bearing, demeanor, and those piercing eyes. She was angry, wasn’t she? No, worse than that - she was disappointed.

“It is not what you did to that twit that irks me,” Jaheira began to explain, “it is how you came to be in that situation in the first place.” She left the window, Aerie daring not move or speak as the druid prowled around her like a predator sniffing out its prey. “Interesting perfume. Le Chateau Cormyr, fourteen seventy two, if I am not mistaken.”

She wasn’t. It was quite a talent she had. But, Aerie thought, so what if she had a few drinks? Or a lot of them. She was an adult, wasn’t she? Admittedly at that moment she didn’t really feel like one. She felt like a schoolgirl whose head mistress returned to gaze mournfully out the window.

“A century ago,” Jaheira told her, “I met this strange girl in a circus. A rare creature; a winged elf. Avariel. A nervous, fretful little thing who had never experienced the world beyond those tents, constantly weighed down by the abuse she had suffered. I honestly did not think she would last a tenday traveling with us,” her nostrils rose and fell. “It was one of the very few times in my life that I was wrong. That girl was also determined, and kind, and so brave - she even had the cheek to answer back to me on occasion. And no matter how hard or how low things were, when it came to the fight she put everything else aside and always gave her all to keep her companions safe. And, in the end, I felt privileged to have seen that girl grow from practically a babe into a bold and surefooted woman who retained the best from each of us.”

There were some finer details missing, of course, but broadly speaking that was how it had been. Minsc, Imoen, even Viconia; they all helped and taught her in their own ways. And, although she had never said it, if she had to name who she had most wished she could emulate, it would have been Jaheira. She knew she could never be that strong, but for a long time she tried her best to carry on by herself, fighting evil, helping people, until…

“And,” Jaheira frowned, “it is a pity I do not know where that girl went. All I see is this wastrel who seems determined only to keep punishing herself.”
Aerie tried to tell her, but, it was like there was a door in her mind she couldn’t open. She wouldn’t, no matter how loud the banging and scratching from the other side grew. It wasn’t any kind of magic, but a choice. She had faced liches and dragons and vampires and even gods, but what was there… not here. Not now. She just wasn’t ready for that.

After a moment of pensive silence, Jaheira wearily sighed, “well, if you ever find her, let me know.”

Jaheira made to sweep by Aerie out the door, but only then did they notice shuffling from the far side of the room. A scroll bounced and rolled out from behind one of the shelves, a balding clerk scurrying after it. “Oh, I-I am sorry,” he said, gathering up the scroll with other rolls of paper in his arms, “just need to put these by. Didn’t mean to interrupt this little mother-daughter bonding moment.”

Both women arched their brows, Aerie pursing her lips to stifle a laugh while Jaheira gaped, “we are the same age.”

“Really?” The little man gasped, squinting between them. Were they humans, Aerie would have appeared to be in her twenties, and Jaheira at least a few years her elder. “Oh dear. Oh, I am so terribly sorry. Totally misread that situation. Just, you know, elves, half-elves, everything else; it can all be very confusing. I do apologise.”

Aerie snorted, earning her a fierce glare from Jaheira. “You think this is funny?”

“A,” she made a small gap between her forefinger and thumb, timidly admitting, “a little bit.”

“Well,” Jaheira composed herself, resuming her stride toward the door, “You have ruined my dramatic exit,” she paused by the clerk, one hand lifting the chain around his neck to read, “Tim.” The name rolled around her tongue as if it sounded to her like scum. Little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as she took his collar, her hazel eyes boring into his skull as her nostrils flared like she was remembering his scent. “Know that you have made a powerful enemy this day.”

“Um,” Tim breathed again after she left, “i-is she… is she serious?”

Aerie shrugged and mumbled, “Idontknow.”

‘There she is! Okay; I’m going to cast a minor illusion to lure her over here, and you be ready with the bucket. Any questions?’

‘Er, yes. Wh-why… why are we doing this?’

‘For fun! You remember how to have fun, don’t you? It’s just like those Chiktikka Fastpaws stories you’re always on about, so I know there’s a rapscallion buried away in there somewhere.’

‘Well thats all very easy for you. When she gets mad she’s far more likely to take it out on me than on Abdel’s sister.’

‘You’ll be fine, kid. Just stick with me.’

Aerie’s feet dangled over the edge of a wooden bridge, the moon behind her as she watched the people hurry by below, a few pushing little carts loaded with produce from the now closed markets, a mother ineffectually trying to corral her children to put them to bed for the night. Back in her cage, in the circus, it had often felt like she was frozen in time, the world flowing by her but she could never reach out to touch or affect it in any way. Of course if she put her hands through the bars a cane would have struck them, but she was trying to be poetic and she supposed she still often felt that way.

With a sigh she put the owlbear away, rising groggily to her feet with her fingers round the neck of a bottle. Dwarven Ale. Top shelf stuff. So she wouldn’t lose her eyesight for any longer than a tenday, or her money back. With that she tottered down into the cobbled streets, telling herself that everything was fine.

Things were good. She was good. She had her freedom, her health, so why shouldn’t she be good? And why should she care what Jaheira thought of her life? Wasn’t her mom, and the crusty old bint always found fault in whatever she did anyway, so why should she care? She didn’t. She didn’t care. Bad things happened. The old Aerie would have sobbed and cried about it, but she wasn’t going to cry. She had shed enough tears for several lifetimes, but now she was tough. And whats more, she deserved to have fun.

She had only come to this city for some stinking cheese. Waterdhavian cheese was sold all around the world, so she’d thought it would be an experience to sample some from or near to the source. Circumstances had forced her plans to change somewhat, but she still wanted some. The stinkier the better.

Her nose led her toward the docks until she found a storehouse within which a dwarf was loading crates onto a cart. “Stuff that couldn’t be sold in the markets,” he heaved, “just taking it all out to dump.”

Well that seemed like a terrible waste, Aerie thought. “I… *hic*,” she squeaked, pinching her already red nose. “Excuse me. I would like to buy your cheese.” She reached into the pouch on her belt. She hadn’t a lot of coin left, but she did have a few gemstones she was sure were worth something.

The dwarf inspected one carefully, his pupils dilating. “Er, how much cheese did you want?”

“All of it!” She pirouetted, spreading her arms to encompass the whole storehouse. “All of the cheese! *hic*!” She stumbled, but managed to kick her feet fast enough to stay up.

“You want to buy six carts full of moldy old cheese?”

“Yup,” she giggled. Now to enact the final stage of her grand plan, “and, can you deliver it to the villa of Sir Windbreaker?”

The dwarf frowned. He knew the gems were worth far more than the cheese, which was basically worth nothing, yet with a rueful sigh he handed them back to her. “Look lass; you’re going to be feeling mighty foolish in the morning I reckon. You put these back in there and be on your way.”

Aerie hung her head, flopping away sulkily, muttering, “no one wants to have fun anymore.”

“Just walk it off, lass.”

She walked, anyway. No idea where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. That was her whole life, really. She walked until she found herself staring into a dry, empty bottle, and she still hadn’t drowned out all the scratching and banging. Or Jaheira’s nagging.

Why did she care?

A bang, a jump, a staff materialized in her hand as she spun round, and then… she sighed, feeling foolish. It had just been a firework. She could hear whoops and chatter coming from beyond a fence around a park down the street. Some kind of magic show? Lacking any other direction she sauntered toward it. There was music, laughter; it sounded like there was more than one show or game going on. Then she found a sign: Extraplanar Circus?

She might have just walked on by. Circuses might have been places other people went to raise their spirits, but she had been in one, both as an attraction and a laborer there; she knew that behind the bright colors and glamor were bruised and worn out bodies and minds. But, extraplanar? Curiosity got the better of her as it usually did.

So she sauntered on, and before even passing through the gate she saw that things were a little bit different here. There was a wood-elf outside dressed in green and blue and gold, greeting and checking people with the aid of a tame ghoul wearing a jester’s collar.

“Ah!” The wood-elf beamed as she approached. “Um, welcome to the Circus of the Last Days! Please…” she pointedly ignored and walked around him. “Er, miss; you need to be-”

Aerie flicked a finger, freezing him mid-stride, one arm reaching out for where her shoulder had been and his face locked in a surprised idiotic grin. The ghoul approached, sniffing. She waved a hand dismissively commanding it to “get lost”. Immediately its brow furrowed and it began to circle round itself, scratching its head in confusion. Then it wandered off, leaving her to enjoy her visit.

Morning came, and with it the revelation of many things that had gone on under cover of night. In Waterdeep there had been six burglaries, one murder, seventeen acts of vandalism, a wagon had somehow managed to become precariously perched atop a bell tower, and in a corner of the circus a pretty but worse for wear looking elf was found snoozing in some hay.

Like she could feel eyes on her she slowly lifted her head. The sun was far too bright, like pins in her eyes, but through much blinking and squinting she made out a blue tiefling boy looking down on her, thick hair on his head writhing like it had a life of its own.

“You’re a mess,” he told her.

Aerie hadn’t seen herself yet, but considering the pounding in her head she doubted she was in any position to make a convincing argument to the contrary.

She sat up, wincing from aches all over her body. The boy scurried away, through what seemed to be quite a crowd who had gathered just to watch her wake up. Several human and elven circus performers stood around in a semi-circle with their arms crossed, a djinni floating behind them, red eyes flaring at her. There was also a kobold, a mummy, a fuzzy bugbear, and the grind of an earth elemental. None of them appeared very happy with her.

“Well,” a tall black and purple elf with a dark feather collar and face caked in make-up frowned, “I am Lucretious, the ring master here. And you, dearie, have been quite the little rapscallion.”

“I have?” Aerie struggled to recall anything from the night before.

“Lets see… first, you left poor Klaus frozen out there for hours, still as a statue. For a moment I dared hope I’d actually found a talent he’d been hiding from me, but alas… then, I had to contact the watch to track down Benji. Finally found him chasing a butterfly around a school. And then poor Akabi-”

“SHE TURNED ME INTO A HUMAN!” The djinni roared, steam rolling from his eyes.

“It was only for five minutes,” Lucretious pointed out, but Akabi bawled:

“For five, agonizing minutes, I was as lowly and wretched a creature as all of you!”

“There, there,” Lucretious patted him softly, “let it all out, big man.”

Akabi wailed, “I knew what it was to feel hunger, need air to live, have bowels… h-how… how can you all exist like that!?!”

“Now, do you see the anguish your little rampage has caused?”

“I’m sorry,” Aerie sadly shook her head, “but I don’t remember anything.”

“Really? You don’t remember challenging Bryn to a boxing match?”

That explained the bruises. Bryn was a six and a half foot tall Barbarian whose perpetual scowl was half concealed by tattoos over her taut face and body. Probably about a third of her was as strong as five Aeries, but still she had to ask, “did I win?”

“Oh,” with a drawn out sigh Lucretious knelt, gently placing a hand on the smaller elf’s shoulder, “you won our hearts, dear. Now, let’s get you presentable. Then we can talk about how you’re going to pay for all the damage you’ve done. The rest of you get back to work.”

A perk of being a magic user was that it really didn’t take Aerie long to get ready. A few waves of her hands and she was clean and her hair no longer resembled a thatched roof, while also healing her bruises and a cracked rib. She then followed Lucretious through quite a bit of bustle; it looked like the circus was packing, getting ready to move on. As should she have been. It was a drunken, foolish mistake coming here; she knew it wouldn’t bring her any joy.

“So,” the ringmaster hooked a finger over her chin, “just who are you?” Aerie was about to answer, but was quickly shushed. “Don’t tell me! I want to guess. Hmmm,” the finger started rubbing as she carefully scrutinized her.

While she waited Aerie’s arm disappeared into her pouch. Strangely it didn’t seem like anything was missing, but nothing was in the right place.

Finally Lucretious spoke, “you’d be very fair for a wood elf, and short for a high elf. And you’re obviously not a drow or sea elf,” she pondered, leaning over almost nose to nose with Aerie. “Ah, but those gorgeous big blues of yours I’d wager could pick out a field mouse from miles away,” she snapped her fingers, “you’re avariel.”

“Impressive,” Aerie conceded.

“It’s a gift, darling. And since there is only one wingless avariel who could cause me this much trouble, you must be Aerie of Faenya-Dail,” she stood straight, hand on her hip and chin held high. “Go on; you can say it. I’m wasted here. I should have been a detective.”

“Maybe,” Aerie again conceded, “although I would have been more impressed if you hadn’t gone through all my things first.”

“Oh, you’re lucky I was there to stop Popper robbing you blind. He would have, too - those are truly gorgeous eyes. But wouldn’t want any more grievances on your first day.”

“Um… my first day?”

“Did I not mention? You owe me - all of us - damages. I intend to put you to work, since you do have some experience.”

Not a chance she was hanging around here, Aerie thought, and the experience she had was a century ago. “You were still only mostly right.”

“Oh?”

“I was a child when I was taken from Faenya-Dail to a place like this. I haven’t been of there in a long time,” Aerie frowned. She had tried to settle down in a gnomish village for a time, but in the end she just grew restless and was out on the road again in search of… she didn’t know what. People to help, evil to vanquish, new and ancient secrets to uncover; that had all been a part of it, at least. “So, now I am just Aerie of Anywhere. Or Nowhere. I’d be happy to be pay you for any ‘damages’, then I’ll be on my way.”

Lucretious sighed, “there’s just one sight worse than a sad girl and that’s a sad girl on her own. I don’t need your coin or your gems, dear, but maybe,” it was a long ‘hmmmm’, until with a sharp inhale her eyes lit up. “An avariel who had her whole life stripped from her, then rising like a phoenix to become the bane of slavers across this world and beyond. Now that is a great story.”

Aerie preemptively stated, “no.”

“We make it into a show! You can have your own song and dance number and be on posters! It would be better if you had red hair. Be all fiery-like.”

“You know,” Aerie glared, “a yellow flame is actually hotter than a red flame.”

“Well that may be factually true, but you’re not going to change centuries worth of assumptions and stereotypes overnight. Still, we can try. What do you say?”

“I say I don’t sing, I don’t dance, and I have zero interest in being your poster girl.”

Without a beat Lucretious adjusted her pitch. “A puppet show then. For the children. You’re not the kind of person who’d let children down, are you?”

She… she wasn’t - Aerie winced, a faint crying deep within her skull - not if there was any way she could possibly help it. “That’s a rotten tactic,” she frowned, “bringing kids into it.”

“Look over there, dear,” Lucretious shrugged. ‘Over there’ was a dark tent, animated skeletons milling around it. “Think I care about rot?”

She should, Aerie thought. Necromancy really wasn’t hygienic; walking corpses might not get sick, but they could still spread all sorts to others. But she knew well circuses weren’t exactly places renowned for cleanliness anyway, and so long as there was a healer around they shouldn’t cause too much trouble.

“Oh, I know you had such an awful time in that other circus, dearie,” Lucretious went on, “but just give me a chance to prove to you that the abuses of the past have been remedied. There are some here, like Akabi, working off a debt, but there are no slaves. And everyone gets time off for themselves and two tendays of paid holiday every year. Provided they put in a request with the head of resources at least three months in advance. That’s him over there,” she pointed to one of the skeletons. “Or, wait… was it that one? Should maybe think about some sort of hat or badge system.”

Aerie could have just left. There was nothing here that could stop her. Except her own curiosity. She was curious about Lucretious, and about what she might look like as a puppet whatever color its hair was. And honestly it wasn’t like she had a really full schedule. “Fine,” she relented, “I’ll hang around. For a little while.”

“Excellent,” Lucretious beamed, then handed her a bucket and broom. “While I work out some details, you can start by cleaning up the mess you made around Zara’s.”

Some things were coming back to her now; Zara was the mummy, and Aerie had gotten a bit enthusiastic with her face paints, splashing anti-Windbreaker graffiti all over the park walls, ground, and several passers by. “Fine.”

Aerie could have used magic to clear away the mess, but she was still getting unpleasant stares from some of the circus folk so decided to prove to them that she was not a stranger to some manual labor. In her old circus no-one stayed for free, so once she’d been freed from her cage she’d soon been put to work on chores just like this. And it was like riding a Griffon; you never forgot how. There was more graffiti than she remembered, and it took her until afternoon, by which time she found the scrubbing actually quite meditative.

As she was finishing she felt eyes on her again. The same blue tiefling boy as before, watching and studying her like he was waiting for something to happen.
“Hello,” Aerie smiled warmly, “can I help you?”

“So, you’re a winged elf?” He asked, seeming very disappointed.

“I am,” Aerie sighed a little wearily. The next logical question was quite obvious.

“So, where are your wings?”

“I got sick, a long time ago, and I lost them.”

“But the others say you’re also a powerful witch, so why don’t you just grow them back?”

That was a far less straightforward question to answer. Over the last century she had discovered scrolls, encountered magical artifacts and beings, many of which would have had the power to do just that. Akabi might, but even if he wasn’t already upset at her, he’d likely turn her into a dove or something which would just create a whole new set of problems. Maybe some would think themselves wise or clever enough to word things in such a way there were no loopholes, but the truly wise just never wished. She never had, and if it was offered she’d always, for various reasons, turned it down.

“Come away, boy,” a man, presumably the father, jogged up and took the boy by the arm. “You’re being rude and bothering her.”

“No, i-it’s okay,” Aerie assured them, “I’m never offended by curiosity. I suppose at some point - not really sure when - I just started accepting that what I’d lost was also a part of me now; a grounded avariel, a wingless wonder, a cripple in the eyes of my people, but I’ve flown farther than any of them,” she smiled, although not sure that all made any sense to a child. “Besides,” she held out the broom turning it sideways, “as a witch,” her hand came away so it was levitating on its own, then she hopped on riding side-saddle in a wide circle around them, “I don’t need wings.”

By the next morning most in the Circus had forgotten Aerie’s indiscretions, except for Akabi who emitted a low rumble whenever she passed near. Lucretious explained they had been hired for a few shows in Waterdeep, but magic that protected the city from extraplanar invaders also prevented her from being able to just whoosh them away. So the plan was to head south overland, stop in at a few more towns and villages, maybe start promoting the new puppet show - an idea on which Aerie still was not entirely sold - before returning to Baldur’s Gate.

For Aerie it was a good a direction as any so she tagged along. They even gave her a horse - a haggard old gray spotted mare, but an avariel of small stature wasn’t much of a burden to carry. Aerie felt far more at ease once out of the city, among cool air and rolling hills and far fewer voices assaulting her senses all at once. The only one that really kept pestering her was Lucretious.

“I know about your early adventures, of course,” the ringmaster lounged in a chaise held aloft by skeletons now adorned in feathered caps, “your travels with the children of Bhaal and your one elf war on slavery. Want to fill in some of the gaps?”

Soon after defeating Amelyssan, Aerie had let go of Minsc. She’d thanked him for protecting her while she found her feet, but now there would be other young adventurers who needed his help far more than she did. At the time it had been true. She thought he wanted to return to Rashemen, but when she’d visited there herself years later she hadn’t found him. Others she did stay in touch with, periodically; wandering just seemed to be in her blood so sending and receiving messages was often difficult. But yes; she fought slavery wherever she encountered it, determined to save anyone she could from suffering like she had, and in so doing often crossed paths with and collaborated with Jaheira and other Harpers. One day, by chance, she encountered another avariel who guided her back to Faenya-Dail; after so many decades of not knowing the fate of her parents, or they her, she was finally reunited with them and many friends and teachers from her childhood. It was the happiest she had ever been. Until one evening over dinner it just struck her that she didn’t really know who any of those people were, and they didn’t really know her either. So she left, tried to settle, couldn’t, and just wandered ever since.

What she told Lucretious was, “hmm… not really.”

“Oh come on; you could be an inspiration to so many! Perhaps an act to rival Dribbles the Clown!”

“I hate clowns.”

“Phobia?”

“No. They’re just not funny.”

“Nonsense! Wait until you see Dribbles and his dog Buddy; anything is paws-ible! Funniest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Well now I just feel really sorry for you.”

“Oh go on,” the exasperated Lucretious fanned herself, “just give me something. Like tell me one thing you are afraid of.”

Aerie did in fact like Lucretious. Maybe it was just the charisma she exuded due to being a very well practiced performer, although if she never turned it off was it really a performance? But she didn’t really trust her enough to confide in. On the other hand, if she already knew so much about her early adventures then, “it’s hardly a secret,” Aerie shrugged. “I’m claustrophobic.” Winged folk in general weren't good with being confined, likely not helped by the fact she literally was for a long time and nearly died.

“Yet you chose a life that involves so much crawling around dungeons, and even the Underdark a few times I gather.”

“Well, with help, I worked through it. Now it’s only really tight spaces that bother me at all.”

They were interrupted as the horse belonging to a blue tiefling man - Ervir, an acrobat - trotted up alongside Aerie. It seemed the boy - Thyneus - was eager to ask her more questions as well. “What’s the furthest place you’ve ever been?”

“Well,” Aerie thought, “I spent a few years in Sigil, The City of Doors said to lie at the very center of the multiverse. I knew some actors from there, and from there I visited several other worlds; some like this, some very different. On one giant machines ruled everywhere, like shield guardians but as big as mountains and the whole land quaked when they walked.”

“Wow! That must have been scary.”

“It was at first, but so long as you stayed out their way they didn’t really notice you. Sometimes it’s good to be small.”

She spoke a little longer about some of the places she’d been, from Icewind Dale to The Outer Planes, after which Ervir thanked her and rode on ahead.

“So,” Lucretious drawled, “you’ll happily answer any question the boy asks, but when it’s me suddenly you’re more guarded than a sacrifice’s virginity. I’m hurt.”

Aerie snorted. “I respect his curious nature.”

“I’m curious too.”

“No - you’re exploitative. Big difference.”

They had been on the road most of the day when the little convoy of wagons stopped. Aerie rode on to find the cause while admitting that she was starting to enjoy herself; she would never have gotten away with talking to people in her old circus like this. Most of the time she would have kept her head down and furtively mumbled in response to any question. Now she didn’t fear anyone’s wrath it was like getting to go back to school to tell your teachers everything they’d been wrong about, which she had done too.

The big red bugbear, Fyodor, had been leading and called the train to a halt, his leathery face creasing concernedly at canine tracks crossing the dirt road ahead. Too big to be wolf, and too long to be bear. “Werewolf,” he growled.

Several of them by the looks of things; a whole pack. They must have been chasing something but there were no other tracks to indicate what. Werewolves weren’t necessarily a danger if they retained enough of their humanity to be spoken to. Aerie volunteered to look, gliding up into the canopy to conceal herself; the prints were large and no effort made to cover them so one hardly needed to be an expert tracker to follow.

In her old circus she’d gotten used to cleaning up some foul odors. She’d traipsed through sewers and had foul concoctions thrown in an effort to overwhelm her senses. But no stench ever hit quiet as hard as fresh blood and spilled intestines. The good news was she’d found the pack. The bad news was something else had found them first.

She floated down from the branches now following a trail of twisted, some half-transformed corpses, her eyes shimmering and body trembling as she realized they hadn’t been chasing; they’d been running. And some of the bodies were so small… just pups...

A howl up ahead stirred her to run, breaking into a clearing just in time to witness the last seconds of this pack. A huge matriarch snarled and slashed at an equally large barbarian. Incredibly agile for his size he avoided it and stunned her with a punch to the snout, his axe buried deep in the chest of an already fallen pack member. The matriarch charged, tackling him, but he swiftly moved around landing on her back, one thick arm around her throat. Then as his muscles bulged he began to pry apart her mouth until, with a sickening snap, her jaw came loose and for a moment the forest was silent as the barbarian stood, then spat.

Aerie watched this in horror. She of course had no idea what had gone on here; maybe this pack had been up to no good. But they had been fleeing, and the cool way this man now turned to regard her like she were something on display in a museum having just a second ago been locked in a life or death struggle, just deeply unsettled her.

“Job done,” he gruffly said, retrieving his axe.

“Job… done?” Aerie blinked, still sorting through everything she just saw. “You had to kill all of them? Even the pups?”

He shrugged, “they were monsters.”

“They were children!”

He looked at her, heaving the axe onto his shoulder as he began to swagger her way. Aerie flinched; she had magical contingencies if she was attacked, but still this man towered two feet over her and was clearly a strong warrior. She would rather not have to fight him up close. Instead he swaggered on by, his weight forcing her aside as he warned, “they were in my way.”

Aerie tried to put from her mind her encounter with the warrior, but her mind was a relentless and tireless torturer not prepared to just let her go. It kept showing her the bodies with the earth drenched and soaking up blood around them, but there was nothing she could have done, was there? She didn’t know. Someone must have hired him to hunt the pack. They must have had a reason. She didn’t know. There was nothing she could have done.

When the moon was at its highest she uttered a prayer to Baervan Wildwanderer, then after a restless night decided to immerse herself in work, taking on any little chore that needed doing; cleaning, feeding the animals, offering her healing services to anyone with so much as a scrape or sniffle. She soon learned that, contrary to what Lucretious insisted, most of the ailments here were not physical but caused by the stress and strain of constantly moving then having to perform. All she could really do was prescribe taking breaks, reading a book, finding a hobby. Still, by the fourth day, she admitted to herself that she appreciated a routine, a structure, something to distract her from her nightmares, although it was likely only a temporary relief.

A wearisome part of the routine though was each morning finding Popper - the Kobold merchant - looking sternly on his little scaly face, holding out her hand and telling him, “give it.”

The small red reptile had a limited range of facial expressions, yet somehow managed to convey being shocked and appalled as he leaned away from her. “It?!” He hissed, “there are no its here. Least no its of yours, strange one. Many other its and bits, if you would care-”

“I can literally see it dangling around your neck.”

“Ahhh,” the Kobold grasped the pink Owlbear hanging from him, “this it? Which I found. Honestly and with no rummaging through bags of holding. I will sell it, for, hmmmm… five hundred gold?”

He was either an idiot who just assumed it some powerful artifact because it was important to her, or maybe a business genius since she was the only person it was worth anything to. Unfortunately Aerie had never been good at haggling and was in no mood to try now. “How about this deal,” she sighed, “you hand it over, and I don’t turn you into a chicken?”

“A chicken, you say?” Popper considered, scratching under his chin. It was a rather long ‘hmmmmmmmmm’ before he finally decided, “I would not like that at all! Deal!”

Aerie shook her head tiredly, trading back what was hers to begin with. “I need a drink,” she sighed.

“Ahhh! Then perhaps we make another deal,” he rummaged around in a trunk until reemerging with a pink long-necked bottle. “Wine of Lathander,” he gave it a little shake, a glint from the morning sun in his teeth and in the glass as he held it up to his cheek enticingly. “It’s made with spunk!”

That almost broke her. Her cheeks puffed, lips pursed, as she desperately tried to not burst. “Do… d-do you mean, made by monks?”

Popper hmmmed again, shrugging, “maybe. You want?”

“May… m-maybe later.”

Aerie was able to compose herself before Lucretious saw her; couldn’t have her thinking she was actually enjoying any part of her stay. “I suppose you’d have found this all very funny,” Aerie gently stroked the Owlbear in her palm, “you always found something to laugh about.”

Stomach in, bum out; Aerie narrowing avoided the tip of a wooden blade flying by her midriff, attached to a madly spinning little blue boy caked in mud. “You ever fight a dragon?!” Thyneus shouted. “You must have fought everything, right?”

“Fighting is never right,” Aerie stated very responsibly, “we just sometimes have no choice.” Then less responsibly she added, “but, if you are going up against a dragon, a sword isn’t really the best tool. You want something like a pike. Lots of pikes.”

His face scrunched up at her, “how are fish going to help?”

Ervir caught up, panting, “stop being a menace! Go clean all that mud off you,” he stood up, bowing his head to Aerie. “Sorry.”

She wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. “Children play,” she shrugged, “doesn’t bother me.”

“Well you’re more patient than some,” the tiefling spotted the pink object she was holding on to, and not for the first time. “Who were they?”

“Just,” Aerie placed one hand over the other, clutching the necklace close to her chest almost as though she were in prayer, “an old friend.”

“What happened?”

“She,” her tongue rolled behind her teeth as she tried to sort a jumble of feelings into words, “was on a journey that I couldn’t accompany her on.”

Ervir nodded, seeming to understand. “The world can be most unfair.”

“You lost someone?”

“Thyn’s mother.”

Of course. Aerie had wondered, but hadn’t presumed to ask before. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, “what we’ve lost is also a part of who we are now, right?”

“Right,” she bit her lip, “I find I’m often better at sounding wise than I am at being.”

Some of the wagons had started moving, setting off for the day pulled by horse and oxen, some circus folk walking alongside them carrying flasks and little packs. Aerie squinted; one of the wheels wobbled more than it should, and before it a rock… the wheel snapped, the surprise causing one of the bards to trip, screaming and flailing up their arms in a futile attempt to defend themselves from the vehicle lurching toward them. Then the screaming stopped, the bard then surprised the five-foot elf holding the entire up with just her hands.

“Is everyone okay?” Aerie gasped. The driver had fallen off, the bard scurried away from potential danger, but it seemed no-one was hurt. “Good,” she pursed her lips, looking around a little awkwardly. She had acted instinctively, reflexively, but now she was in this position she wasn’t quite sure what the next move was. The strength she had summoned wouldn’t last long; should she let the wagon fall, or find some way to prop it up?

“Oh, Aerie dear,” skeletons pulled Lucretious’ chaise up next to the wagon, the ringmaster fanning herself as she looked down, “a little lady like you shouldn’t be holding a big heavy thing like that.”

“So,” Aerie peered back doubtfully, “are you actually going to help?”

“Of course!” Lucretious coughed, leaning forward. “Remember; it’s keep your back straight and bend at the knees.”

“Yeah,” Aerie rolled her eyes, “I should have guessed.”

“Actually, now I have you here, you can answer a few more questions. I’ve been thinking what the show needs is some romance.”

“Now?!” Aerie puffed, “you want to talk about this now?!”

“Well I think its very important; every story needs some romance, yes?”

“You know, I don’t really care for it. I mean it’s not healthy, telling people they’re not really a whole person unless they possess or are possessed by someone else. It’s the cause of so much misery.”

“You’re just determined to be as difficult as possible, aren’t you? Come on; pretty thing like you must have had lots of lovers.”

“I am not going to tell you how many ‘lovers’ I’ve had.”

“Awww… why not?”

“Because if its not many then I’m frigid, and if its a lot then I’m a hussy. I’m not playing a game that has no way to win.”

“Let’s just say twenty then,” Lucretious said, proving to her that she already was. “All men?”

Aerie shook her head, having to adjust her grip as the remaining wheel on the other side started to slide, then just sighed and admitted, “no. Not all of them were men. Are you happy now?”

“Very! That’s just the kind of spice we’re looking for."

“In a puppet show?”

“Need something to keep the dads interested. Now,” Lucretious reached into seat, pulling out a folder and handful of papers she’d scribbled in.

“Oh my; you actually have notes. Almost like a real writer. I’m impressed.”

“So, tell me about Haer’Dalis.”

Aerie gawked like she’d had water splashed in her face. He was her first, and she thought about him often. She thought about everyone. He hadn’t been in Sigil when she was there, which was maybe for the best. Who knows? He was just another person she had lost. “I don’t know what to tell you. He was a bard. He was kind to me, in his way. I used to nervously stutter all the time when I spoke - living under constant threat of having your ribs broken if you so much as glance the wrong way will do that - but me helped me find my voice. I miss him. That’s it.”

“Did you love him?”

“I-I,” Aerie rolled her head back, taking a deep breath, “I thought I did, briefly. I was still very young at the time. But he was a Doomguard, and I’m very much in favor of life. It was never meant to be. Speaking of,” she gestured with her eyes at the wagon, “would you mind? So we don’t both get crushed.”

Lucretious signaled with her fan. Next to Aerie the ground slurped and rose up, the jagged form of an earth elemental solidifying under the wagon and taking its weight from her. “That’s enough questions for now. Be a dear, would you, and go find out from our guides how far we are from the next village.”

Fyodor and Klaus were leading the caravan, because Klaus had a map although Fyodor maintained he could find his way just by smell and memory.

“I’m telling you,” the bugbear snarled, “it is just over this next hill.”

“You said that five hills ago,” Klaus muttered behind his parchment, “we… we are lost,” he sighed, folding it up and turning to Aerie as she approached. “Any idea where we are?”

“Hmm,” she thought, “give me a moment.” She planted her elbows in her side, hands stretched either side of her head as if in praise of the sun, then closed her eyes and began jerkily turning around.

“Um… what are you doing?”

“Shhh! Avariel are able to navigate by sensing fluctuations in the world’s magnetic field. Yes - I’d say we’re about four miles from a village called Stefington.”

“Really?” Klaus peered in astonishment. “That’s amazing!”

Aerie opened her eyes, grinning, “of course not really, you galoot. I just looked at the signpost over there.”

It was fair way down the road, partially obscured by overgrown branches, but when the other’s squinted they could just make it out. “Well, still impressive eyesight, I suppose,” Klaus shrugged.

Their arrival in the village later that day meant that Aerie didn’t need to resort to Popper’s spunk to quench her thirst, instead stocking up her bag of holding in the tavern. Although they were only staying one night, the circus folk naturally started to put on a show the moment they arrived; the bards singing and playing, illusions of animals and monsters wowing the children, acrobatics, fire-breathing; it was welcome break for the villagers at least.

Aerie stayed away from it as much as she could. She found herself again with Fyodor and Klaus making sure crates were secure in the wagons, still thinking about Haer’Dalis, wondering what might have become of him. Of course she had no answers. She supposed he’d be old now, if he was still out there at all.

“Look at this,” Klaus spat, breaking a nail as he tried to undo a tangled mess of a rope, “there were no knots in this at all when we set out. Now look at it! How is it even possible?”

Aerie sighed, “that’s an example of entropy; myriad tiny movements and vibrations on the road, an infinitude of combinations the rope can slide into, almost all of them a mess.”

“Damn nuisance is what it is,” Klaus grumbled, continuing to demonstrate that it was life’s lot to resist entropy, no matter if it was futile in the end.

“WAAAGH!” Someone wailed. Aerie’s ears pricked, first thinking a baby had been abandoned in the woods. But no; it was a much older voice, and coming from inside the village. She wandered tentatively toward the sound, further hearing, “Woe is Minsc! Failed to protect his witch! Can never return to the snowy fields of home! Such a useless, addled, fool he is!”

It of course wasn’t Minsc. Didn’t even sound like him. It seemed Lucretious had already finished part of her show, and now there was a puppet Minsc banging its head on the ledge of a little theater in front of a small crowd. It had red hair, for some reason, and of course so did Aerie’s puppet.

“Oh, no, no, no, Minsc!” Aerie the Red said, doing her best to put her too small arms around him. “You’ve helped so many people! Put the boot to so much evil! I know if Dynaheir could see you now, she would be proud.”

“Oh, sweet, kind, little Aerie,” Minsc sniffed, “you have been a good friend to Boo and I. Perhaps…” the puppet leaned to the side, appearing to consult in whispers with a hamster. “Yes! Minsc and Boo are nothing without a witch. Without one we are lost! So, perhaps, you could be our witch?”

“I-I,” Aerie the Red turned away, lowering her head in thought as if this were the biggest decision she'd ever had to make. To be fair, at that point it probably was. “Of course, Minsc,” she said at last, “if you will be my guardian, I will be your witch, and together we’ll avenge Dynaheir!”

Minsc bowed like he was being knighted, “My sword, my soul, my hamster... all of these I pledge to... to Aerie, my witch! WOE IS YOU, EVIL! Minsc has a new witch!”

Actually wasn’t far off what really happened, at least as far as Aerie - the real Aerie - could recall. At first watching the scene made her smile, until her wistfulness was interrupted by a little voice in the back that kept getting louder, saying, ‘what a failure of a witch you are.’

‘No,’ she answered, ‘I kept my promise. We avenged Dynaheir.’

‘And then you sent him away. He trusted you, and you sent him away, never to be seen or heard from again.’

‘I-I-I… t-that wasn’t...’

‘You failed him, just like you failed them’. She felt a banging on the door, crying, wails, and she ran. She didn’t know how far, but she was lost the rest of the night. It was Lucretious who found her face down in mud next to a stream.

“Oh, dearie,” she sighed, helping the barely lucid Aerie up, an empty bottle floating away as she guided the very flushed avariel back to the village. “What are we to do with you, hm? You’re not even two hundred; far too young to be this full of regret and sorrow. Wait until you’ve had a wild night with an incubus and a succubus; that’ll leave you with things to regret. Come on; let’s get you lying down somewhere you won’t drown.”

Aerie awoke to something tugging, pulling, her scalp feeling like it was on fire. Her own face taut and wincing, she found herself looking up into the long face of gray mare, munching away quite happily. “Ow, ow, ow, oww!” Aerie slid across the floor of the barn she was in, trying her best to ease herself free without startling the beast, gritting, “that isn’t hay, you stupid horse!”

She got loose, bouncing to her feet immediately; as a wake-up call it had been most effective. She shook her hair, patted down her sky blue tunic, then glared at the horse. It stared blankly back with its big brown eyes, still munching merrily, tail swishing contentedly… she just couldn’t be mad. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I shouldn’t have called you stupid. I was speaking out of hurt. You’re right; I should get it trimmed.”

Although first she needed to ascertain exactly where she’d ended up. She recognized the barn and the horse of course; she was still in the village, only able to hope she hadn’t done anything truly embarrassing.

It was early morning. A thin mist had descended, a warm diffuse yellow glow belying the chill of the air. The circus camped just outside the barn, just now waking up.

“Ahh,” Lucretious’ tent was closest, the ringmaster beaming through a mirror she held in one hand while painting her lips, “the wingless wonder rises. You know every adventurer I’ve known has been a deeply troubled soul, but most are far better at concealing it than you.”

Aerie went furtive; head bowed, one arm crossing behind her back to hold an elbow while one foot rose to scratch the other calf. “I’m sorry,” she said not knowing why, but assuming it was for something bad.

“Oh,” the mirror snapped shut, “no need to bother with Popper today,” Lucretious rooted through the paraphernalia in her tent. “While you were outside the tavern singing ‘Bhaal Bawls For His Very Small Balls’ at the top of your lungs you dropped this.” She tossed and Aerie caught the little pink owlbear necklace. “It seems important to you.”

It was. She should have been taking better care of it. She should have been taking better care of everything. She exhaled quietly, “thank you.”

“Are you okay, dear?” Lucretious regarded her pityingly. “You look a little… defeated.”

She supposed she was. She thought she could be tough, that she could keep things locked up inside and carry on like she didn’t care. But she was losing that fight as well. Still she said, “I’ll be fine.”

“I am not at all convinced, but I’ve invested too much to give up now. You should go get yourself something to eat. I believe the chef is preparing his Kobold Surprise!”

“What’s the surprise?”

“It’s a vegetarian dish.”

Aerie still didn’t know what Lucretious was really after but resigned herself to just going with it, so after finishing some slop with a slurp she started looking around for anyone that needed a hand with anything.

“I need to post some things,” Ervir said, “would you mind watching him?”

Thyn’s wavy blue hair flopped to one side as he peered up, studying her. “All right,” she nodded.

Ervir bowed saying thank you then quickly disappeared, leaving Aerie alone with the child who then blurted, “why are you always so sad?”

Really not a straightforward question to answer. Well, there was one simple, and true, answer; trauma. But it would lead to a multitude of other questions with answers ranging from being a minority of one to corpse littered battlefields and other things she had locked away and just a hodge-podge of so much stuff, some of which she thought she’d already figured out. “Honestly?” Aerie sighed, “I don’t know.”

Despite his young age he perhaps understood that feelings could be complicated and hard to talk about - after all, he had lost a mother - as he didn’t push her further on it. Instead he nodded and asked, “do you want to look at the rabbits?”

Aerie wasn’t sure she was ready to handle that much excitement, but nevertheless went along. One of the houses in the village had hutches outside, Thyneus drawn to one that had an entirely black bunny hopping about inside. “Come on,” he cooed and rapped on the mesh, trying to entice the rabbit forward with a bit of carrot, “I’ve got a treat. You want it, yeah?” But with his shadow looming over it the little animal just retreated further inside, balling up, nose twitching nervously. The little boy was heartbroken. “Awww… come on! Doesn’t he want to come out?”

Aerie knelt, explaining, “we’re big and scary to him. He feels safe in his cage.”

His face scrunched as he considered, then he reminded her, “you didn’t feel safe in yours, did you?”

“You know about that?” She wasn’t really surprised; there were few secrets in a place like this. She was sure everyone knew her history by now.

“Dad says it’s why you don’t like the circus.”

Ervir wasn’t wrong. She supposed there were moments when she’d been glad of the bars, like when slobbery old men leered threateningly at her. Of course if her keepers weren’t happy for any reason, then she was in there trapped… she winced, saying, “it was a long time ago.”

“Were you in there all the time? Like, did they let you out to pooh?”

One of the constants of the universe it seemed; children fascinated by poop. “I had a bucket.”

“Gross,” Thyn hopped to his feet, turning to face, eyes glittering as if Oghma had struck him with inspiration. “Hey, when you were little,” he snorted, whatever it was obviously just too brilliant to contain, “did… did you have to learn the elf-abet?”

Aerie arched a brow, her mouth curling just slightly as she blinked very slowly. “That… that was awful.”

“I’m sorry. Was that rude? Let’s make up and shake hands.” He held out his. She had a strong suspicion of what was coming, but fine - she reached out, only for him to snap his hand away, planting the thumb under his nose as he wriggled his fingers and stuck out his tongue. “Your face!”

“No; I-I knew you would do that,” Aerie insisted, “I had a friend who did that to me all the time.” She wistfully sighed, rolling her eyes until she saw Thyn was waiting expectantly; seemed it was her turn. “All right; do you know what my favorite thing to learn was?”

“What?”

“Spelling.”

His mouth squashed as he shook his head, not impressed. “What do you get if you cross a vampire with a yeti?”

“Frostbite?” He frowned, not happy that she’d guessed. Aerie thought, recalling every dumb thing ever said to cheer her up. “How do you know if a vampire has a cold?”

“He starts coffin!” Thyn spat out triumphantly, evening the score. “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”

“I don’t know,” Aerie pretended, “what?”

“Ha! A carrot!”

“Okay… why is a bee’s hair sticky?”

“Why?”

“They use honey combs.”

That nearly cracked him, but not quite. It became a contest that lasted the rest of the morning. Aerie’s over a century of experience being sad and lonely gave her an advantage, but she did her best to make it seem competitive. And, for the first time in a long time, there was no beating inside her mind or little torturer’s voice chiding her. To say she was happy might have been a stretch, but for a while she was content.

The game ended when bells started to be rung around the village, and Aerie was compelled by her nature to investigate. Perhaps a fire, she thought, but she couldn’t see or smell any smoke. There were people running toward the one small church in the village dedicated to Ilmater. She bumped into Ervir running the other way, taking Thyn.

“What’s happened?” She asked.

“Some kind of battle,” was all he knew.

Aerie pushed on to the church, seeing about a dozen bent and haggard men and women limping inside, their blue gambesons stained red, one missing an eye, a few being carried on makeshift stretchers. She paused, placing one hand on her stomach, the other touching her breast where her symbol of Baervan Wildwanderer lay beneath her tunic, taking a deep breath before following them inside.

The church hall echoed with harrowing moans as the wounded cried and begged for the priests. There were only two resident here, one of them a novice who just stood by the entrance wide-eyed and paralyzed. “Father,” she blinked, “what do we do?”

The senior priest paced, hands clasped close to his heart, knuckles white as he stammered, “I-I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Father! There are wounded!”

“So… so many. How do we do it? How do we choose which ones to help?”

Aerie pitied the priests - they’d obviously not had an emergency like this in the village before - but those people couldn’t afford to wait for them to pull themselves together. She took another deep breath, needing it to sound as commanding as a five-foot elf could as she stepped forward. She went through life fretting about anything and everything, but the moment there was a crisis it was as if some instinct took over and she knew what to do. Not so good at knowing what to do after, but now, “check the quiet ones first,” she said, “if they’re strong enough to cry out, they’re strong enough to wait.”

The novice at least was glad someone else had taken charge and immediately began to follow Aerie’s instructions, the elder priest only joining them after most of the work had been done. None of the wounded were lost, the credit for which really belonged to Aerie, but credit wasn’t what she was interested in. What did interest her was a pin she found when examining one of the men.

“You’re Harpers,” she muttered, her wide blue eyes impossibly becoming wider. She hadn’t asked what Jaheira had been doing in Waterdeep since she hadn’t expected a real answer. Obviously she knew they hadn’t traveled there just for her and must have had some Harper business, but now she needed to know, running around checking the faces of everyone she hadn’t treated herself. Jaheira’s wasn’t among them, but that was no relief.

“He just came out of nowhere,” a young man wept, “no warning; he just started attacking and cutting us all down like we were children.”

Aerie knelt, gently yet urgently clasping his hand. “Who?”

He looked up glassily at her, only saying, “we were just pests to him - that’s probably why we’re alive. He was only interested in Jaheira.”

“Jaheira!” Aerie’s heart jumped, her fears confirmed, “where is she?!”

An elder man winced as he pushed himself up, “she was leading him to some ruins to the northeast. Boy’s right; she was the only one of us he cared about. You must be Aerie - she mentioned you.”

In other circumstances it might have pleased her to know Jaheira spoke of her at all, but right now her head was buzzing and she needed more answers. “Who was it that attacked you?”

“Vortigan. Afraid we honestly don’t know much about him. He’s a warrior, mercenary of sorts, but really seems to only care about finding more and more powerful foes to slay. There’s a small retinue that travels with him, but he always fights alone.”

Was it the same man that had killed the werewolves? The one she’d just let walk away, and now he’d gone after her family. Aerie bit her lip, breathing to cool and steady herself. If Jaheira were here, she’d tell her it was pointless to dwell on such things. What mattered was what she did now. “How far northeast?”
“Seven or eight miles; it would take a couple of hours on foot.”

“I won’t be going on foot,” Aerie stood, sweeping around and heading toward the church doors.

“Wait!” The old Harper, although obviously still in pain, pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet. “Thanks to your efforts, most of us are ready to fight. We can still help.”

She was doubtful; even though their wounds were healed they still needed rest. But she understood their need to be useful as well. “Then catch up as quickly as you can,” she said, rising into the air the moment she stepped outside.

Aerie found the ruins, touching down in the middle of a square of skeletal walls that must have once been a courtyard. The site was on a sort of island, a deep ravine all around. She was glad to have not had to cross the moldy, crumbling bridge on foot or horseback, but someone had. And she would have to too if Jaheira was hurt. Deal with that when it came to it; in the meantime there were fresh paw prints leading to the remains of a chapel. They disappeared once she was inside, but from there was only one way to go anyway; down.

As she descended she began to see more signs of what this place had been; worn mosaics showed blue four pointed stars, and then she came to the grey statue of a woman with thick robes and flowing. Aerie summoned a staff to her hand, an orb encased at one end lighting up as she examined flecks on the stone. She quickly deduced that the hair of statue had once been brightly painted with all the colors of the rainbow.

“Mystryl,” she whispered with a slight bow to the former incarnation of the goddess of magic. It was strange to think that even gods weren’t immune to time. Had Aerie more she would have liked to explore this place more fully, but Jaheira might have been very close to running out of hers.

Still she would feel foolish rushing to the rescue only for herself to be caught in a trap; Jaheira’s scolding would take years to recover from. Nalia, Imoen, and Yoshimo had shown her various things to look out for. Jaheira also wouldn’t be happy if she found out Yoshimo had a hand in her rescue, but he had always been kind to Aerie and right now they both needed him. It was thanks to him she spotted the slightly raised and off-color stones in the floor and knew that if Jaheira was being chased she couldn’t have gone that way.

That and other processes of elimination as Aerie navigated the musty corridors eventually led her to signs of a fierce clash, large chunks of the temple’s structure smashed and torn asunder, and soon she heard the clamor and literal growls of a battle. The elf dashed behind a column in a wide hall from where she could assess the situation. It was not good.

Jaheira had assumed the form of a panther, back arched with her jaw close to the ground as she hissed, black coat damp and glistening from all the blood seeping out of her many cuts. Her paws left a slippery red trail on the mosaics as she slid back from the virtually unscratched Vortigan - who Aerie now knew for sure was the same man from the woods, just as impassive and almost mechanical as he had been then, and just like then she had arrived in the last seconds. Jaheira pounced just like the cornered animal whose shape she had taken, her teeth sinking into his forearm. But that just left her side exposed to his dagger.

He stabbed her several times between the ribs before throwing her over the floor to splat on her side then he approached the supine cat, throwing away the dagger and unfastening his axe. She lifted her head to bare her teeth defiantly as the axe raised, using the last of her strength.

The axe began to swing, falling toward her neck. Instead it met with the spine of a staff, bright blue glowing eyes kneeling behind it, weapons trembling as Vortigan kept trying to push through to get at Jaheira, surprised that this tiny elf possessed the power to hold him at bay. The air between them began to smell like burnt copper, sparks building, a bolt jumping out striking a column and exploding it into dust. Aerie couldn’t match his strength for long; she was slowly being forced back. With a final push she screamed, summoning forth a brilliant blinding light around her. Vortigan leapt back, shielding his eyes, then a second later found himself looking at the empty space his intended prey had been.

Aerie reappeared in a room back the way she had came, Jaheira’s now humanoid again arm draped across across her shoulders. She helped her not-really-elder-but-for-all-intents-and-purposes-her-elder to sit in a corner so she could tend to herself as Aerie peered out into the murky corridor. Vortigan was no doubt hunting, still, but hopefully they had a couple of minutes.

“Foolish child,” Jaheira hung her head, still in pain, “why did you come here?”

“Oh,” Aerie rolled her eyes; not that she’d really been expecting anything like a ‘thank you’. “I suppose I just missed your sunny smiles.”

Jaheira glared harshly at her. “Sarcasm does not suit you,” she said. She then tried to stand, but it was like some invisible force struck her in the side again. She collapsed, arm shaking, hand locked into a claw shape near her chest as she ground her teeth hissing, “dammit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“That dagger must have been coated in something.”

Aerie bounded across, gently pulling Jaheira’s hand away. Changing back to her natural shape should have healed most of her wounds but her side was still bleeding. Prayers to Silvanus hadn’t helped. “Could be a toxin; could be a curse,” Aerie muttered, “either way we need to get you back to the village to deal with it. Luckily someone taught me to prepare for things just like this,” she reached into her bag of holding for her bandages.

“Sounds like a wise and brilliant person. Who were they?” Jaheira winced as they were wrapped around her, snapping, “careful!”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have liked her. She was very ornery.”

“Ornery? Really?”

“A terrible cook too, but everyone was too afraid to tell her.”

Jaheira snorted, “do not get cocky, girl. You still have a lot to learn.”

“Life would be dull if I didn’t,” Aerie finished binding the bandages. She sat back on her heels, sighing, “you know, even if it didn’t always seem like it, I did always look up to you.”

“Well,” Jaheira shifted a little uncomfortably, “now is not the time to start being sentimental. Let us get to that village.”

She was right, of course. Jaheira was always right, even when she was wrong; that was one of the lessons Aerie had keenly learned.

They continued back along the path Aerie had taken, but progress was slow since Jaheira struggled to stand on her own and was getting weaker. Aerie could have prayed for more strength to carry her, but she doubted Vortigan will have left yet so she might well need it for him. Although not something she could be blamed for, it was not the first time Aerie regretted not being much bigger than she was. Still, Mazzy always managed; she just had to have heart.

Dust fell from the ceiling as it vibrated from some thumping above. They paused, listening; there was certainly something big and heavy stomping around up there. The ceiling burst, a cloud of debris and dust filling the corridor, and through their frantic blinking they saw the form of Vortigan stand up, towering before them.

Aerie had to let go of Jaheira as he charged, hoping whatever anger she felt at her would be fleeting. She rushed to intercept the warrior, summoning spiritual armor around herself as she dove under his axe - being small helped her there - then a raccoon emblemed shield as both combatants spun about. The axe and shield collided, a thunderous wave causing the entire structure around them to quake. They separated, then he quickly swung on her again, axe striking the shield over and over. Aerie had been taught not to block when she could help it - she obviously didn’t have the mass to stop his momentum - instead deflecting as she fell back, his axe scraping and digging grooves out of the walls. But despite his size he was quick, never allowing her a chance to counter. Soon she would run out of corridor to fall back into.

She skipped back, giving herself some space to launch a flaming bolt from her wrist, watching it strike him just above the lip, his head snapping back. He either wasn’t human or there was some magic protecting him, as his head just rolled back with only a sneer, his gray eyes locked onto her. At least she seemed to have caught his attention and Jaheira was no longer his only target.

He rushed, Aerie having no choice but to raise her shield to block as he rammed into her, lifting and pushing her the rest of the way along the corridor, a blue star mosaic shattering and shooting away in pieces as they crashed through.

Aerie coughed and spluttered as she tried to rise to her feet, only for an enormous boot to strike her in the side of the head and she was sprawled on the floor again with a piercing ringing bouncing around her skull. Vortigan swung his axe underarm striking her in the stomach, sending her flying to meet another wall in the chamber they were in. The metallic skin she had summoned around herself was the only reason she remained in one piece, but then an uppercut that spun her head over heels broke it.

She stretched and grimaced, blinking repeatedly to try and focus. It looked like there were four or five Vortigan’s advancing menacingly on her. “I-I can do that trick too,” she wheezed, “you’re not special.”

The ground cracked, roots and vines shooting through wrapping themselves around his limbs. Grunting he pulled at them, broke some, chopped, only for more to grow in their place. Jaheira leaned in archway, a green glow from her eyes. She was deathly pale, the red stains on her bandages growing more and more, but had bought Aerie enough time to regain her senses.

The chamber began to flash with all colors as bolts and missiles of force struck Vortigan again and again. He grimaced from the impacts, but Aerie’s ranged attacks had little more effect than that; it seemed the bracers he wore were absorbing the energy of whatever she could throw and dispersing it back into the weave. So she changed her target, first taking advantage of the distraction of the vines to run to Jaheira, backing off through the arch, then aiming her staff at supports in the chamber to bring it all crashing down on Vortigan.

That should slow him down, at least, which was good as now Jaheira and Aerie were both bruised and battered and their progress a lot slower than before. Less good was that they felt another quake whose epicenter was somewhere in the structure.

Jaheira panted, “this whole place is collapsing. We need to hurry.”

It was a pity; Aerie would really have liked to have studied it more, plus she couldn’t help but feel a little bit responsible. Couldn’t be helped, she supposed. “It’s not much further now.”

Soon they were back on the surface limping across the courtyard to the bridge. On the other all the Harper’s that were able had finally caught up; they had even recruited some villager’s and people from the circus along with a wagon with Ervir at the reins. Thyneus was sat next to him, teary eyed at first, but perking up immediately when he saw Aerie; she could only speculate that the silly boy had stowed away or followed without permission.

They all waved and beckoned for the women to cross, but they were only half way across the yard when they felt another quake, chunks of stone falling from the bridge into the river far below. A few of the Harpers dared to run across it, Aerie letting them take the now barely cognizant Jaheira from her. The avariel then fell to her knees, shoulder’s bunched as she finally had a chance to suck in some air and letting the others cross back over first, only standing up once they had.

She struggled to maintain her footing as there was yet another quake, much larger than any before. She felt like she was trying to balance with her feet between two barrels in the ocean. That was the least of her problems, however, as with wide eyed helpless horror the people on the other side watched the remainder of the bridge twist and tumble, splashing into the waters below. Not a problem, Aerie thought; she still had a fly spell left.

She noticed the Harpers looking past her, raising their crossbows. She looked over her shoulder to see Vortigan emerging from what was left of the chapel, axe in hand, rolling his huge shoulders.

Aerie wished she knew what she’d done to have offended the gods so. She was an avariel, not an angel, so of course she hadn’t always been perfect, but she tried her best to be good even when it seemed like the whole world was set against her. She watched as bolts whistled over her, Vortigan just batting a few away with his axe, the rest just seeming to bounce off if they even hit him at all.

The shaking had brought Jaheira around again as she called across the chasm, “forget him, child! Just get yourself over here! Now!” Aerie couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever type of monster this was wouldn’t rest until either he or they were destroyed. But Jaheira was right, of course; the best thing to do now was escape and try to figure it all out later.

The ground was steady, for now, but Aerie was still dizzy when she rose. “Look out!” Someone cried, and she ducked, just dodging one of Vortigan’s knives whizzing over her across the chasm. But still there was a thud and a sharp, quiet breath.

Aerie quickly twisted herself around to follow the trajectory. There on the other side of the ravine Thyneus blinked in surprise at an ivory handle buried in his chest. He squinted back at Aerie as if hoping she could explain what had happened, then slumped slowly to his knees and flopped on his side. There was strange silence as everyone just looked at the boy, faces frozen in shock like they were characters in a painting. Everyone was still. Everyone except Vortigan.

Jaheira slowly turned from the fallen boy to see the glassy eyed avariel’s face twitching, her nostrils and her eyes starting to flare as her body tensed. Jaheira shook her head, trying to warn, “Aerie - no!”

But it was too late. Aerie determinedly jumped up, turning to face the killer. A column of flame erupted from her to engulf Vortigan. The bracers on her wrists began to glow red, yellow, white hot - yet still he pushed on, getting close. Aerie summoned back her shield and her staff shortened and broadened to become a mace as she ran at him and danced around trading blows.

Jaheira spat frustratedly, having no way back across the ravine. Even if she had she was in no state to help, but she knew the stupid girl was just going to wear herself out and needed to be dragged away from the fight.

Sure enough, Aerie began to slow. An elbow caught her across the nose knocking her straight down. Vortigan seemed just amused by her at this point, sickening thuds as he began to just kick her across the ground. With blood and tears streaming down her face she tried to fight back. She got to her knees and thrust the edge of her shield up into his stomach… but she just couldn’t hurt him.

He finally slapped her hard with the back of his hand and she lay on her back, groaning and grimacing, trying to will herself to get back up… but her body just had nothing left.

Vortigan bent down, grasping her by the throat and lifting her with one arm. She couldn’t lift her arms to even try to resist. She could only hang limply as he brought her close enough to whisper, “it must be so frustrating. So much courage, trapped in such weak and vulnerable flesh. You did well, considering your disadvantages. Be proud.”

With that he carried her to edge of the ravine, dangling her over it, making sure Jaheira got a good look at her utterly crushed and defeated companion, before he let her go.

“Hey,” a young woman’s voice gently urged, “wake up, you.”

Aerie pressed her eyelids together, head still throbbing and not sure where she was. She remembered falling - that must have triggered her featherfall, and she’d splashed down in the river which carried her for a while. Then she must have somehow crawled out and lain down next to this log on a stony bank.

“You really look like you need a hug,” the voice said.

Aerie slid back to sit up straight, frantic tingling throughout her skull, pain shooting, well, everywhere. She tried to focus on something nearby; a solitary speckled flower growing among the rocks. “Waxflower,” she weakly mumbled, “there… there used to be a little girl who would bring them to me in my cage - I think she thought they cheered me up. Then one day she just stopped visiting... don’t know why. I suppose she just outgrew me.”

“Are you just going to keep ignoring me? Because I can be a lot louder, you know.”

“You,” Aerie sighed, “you’re not really here. I just hit my head and you’re a memory that fell out.”

“You can believe that if you want. It’s true we can’t touch, and I don’t really look like this anymore. But last night I was having a little wander around the astral plane when this crazy elf necromancer somehow found me. ‘Poor thing is in such a rut,’ she said, ‘and its ruining my artistic vision’.”

That did almost sound plausible. Aerie lifted her head to take in the figure kneeling in front of her; dark leather jerkin, neck length red hair, scar over her right eye, a face that wore a perpetual quirky grin. Aerie couldn’t decide if she was real, but it had been so long since she had seen her like this and not a shade in the dimly lit theater of her memory. She reached out, fingers hovering over the specter’s cheek, unable to touch and yet she did feel her. “Imoen…”

“It’s me.”

“H-how,” Aerie realized it didn’t really matter to her right now if she was real or a symptom of a concussion; she had wanted to talk like this for so long. Yet now that she could wasn’t sure what to say. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” Imoen sat next to her by the log, “slowly dying. Got to be honest with you, kid - it’s kind of a bummer.”

“There must be something we-”

“Just let me worry about that. What happened to you? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Aerie exhaled, “I just had my butt kicked.”

“Awww… do you want me to kiss you better?”

That would have been nice, but, “it’s hardly the first time I’ve lost a fight. My body and my pride - such as it is - will heal.”

“You’ve always had a knack for throwing yourself in harm’s way. I remember Jaheira always telling you off for it.”

“Have you seen her? I-is she-”

“Jaheira has all the Harpers to look after her. But you,” Imoen sighed, “why are you still so alone?”

“T-that’s,” Aerie’s brow furrowed, unable to find a succinct answer. “Thats not straightforward.”

Imoen’s gaze drifted to Aerie’s wrist, to the pink owlbear tied around it. “You kept that thing, huh?”

Aerie lifted her arm, touching it as she quietly answered, “I couldn’t let it go.”

“Oh Aerie,” Imoen rolled her eyes, “you’re just too sentimental for your own good.” She squeezed one of her cheeks with her lips the way she always did when she was trying to puzzle something out. They sat a moment, just watching the specks of moonlight dance over the river.

“What’s it like,” Aerie asked, “growing old?” She didn’t know if it was a strange or perhaps even rude question to ask a human, but it something she could never experience and she knew that Imoen - real or not - would understand her, even if she decided to turn the answer into a joke.

“Frustrating, some times; not being able to do all the things I once could. Even getting out of bed these days is something I have to really work up to. But there’s upsides; like now when I pinch stuff instead of everyone calling me a criminal, I am now ‘a character’.”

“I always thought you were a character,” Aerie assured her.

“That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

“You know, if you needed help, I could-”

Imoen’s weary sigh was that of someone who had already talked to death this topic. “It’s kind of you, but we both know if I made you stay here to nurse me you’d soon grow restless - maybe even start resenting me - and I never want that. It’s just your nature, Aerie; you need to fly. Figuratively speaking, at least.”
But Aerie adamantly shook her head, insisting, “I need my friend.”

“There’s no easy solution to you, is there?” Imoen reached out as if trying to stroke her, “gotta keep moving, but can’t be alone. You’re such a-”

“Mess?” Aerie sagged back down knowing it to be true; she couldn’t untangle herself either. “Yeah.”

“So, you still haven’t told me; who the hell is Lucretious and why’s she interrupting my naps?”

“She wants to produce a puppet show about my life.”

“A puppet show? Will I be in it?”

“I would have thought so,” Aerie said, although not really knowing at all what Lucretious’ plans were. “You know the time I spent with Minsc, and you, and everyone - it wasn’t just an adventure to me. I-it,” she struggled, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek, “it was the time I was reborn. You all helped me so much,” she sniffed as if trying to suck the water back into her eyes. “I’m sorry… I-I thought I’d have become stronger than this.”

“It’s okay to not be okay. Feeling everything like you do; that’s also your nature. You just sit and tell Aunty Imoen all about it.”

Aerie’s head flopped to one side, close to Imoen’s shoulder who leaned hers over it. “I lost Minsc. I should have stayed with him, made sure he made it home.”

“It’s not like he was a child, and without you he’d have been lost long before. You gave him a purpose again, then a new one when you told him to find other young heroes that needed him. You should really listen to your own advice more.”

“I tried. For a long time I tried, b-but…”

“What happened?”

There was a door in Aerie’s mind that she kept locked and chained, but keeping it like that had become so exhausting. Maybe it was time. She shakily sighed, “I was just wandering when I came upon a village. Someone there must have known who I was as everyone came out to greet me, all with smiles and gifts; I’ve never been so welcomed anywhere. The children made me cards and gave me cookies and cakes. They were all so happy to see a hero. T-they all thought that, finally, someone had come to save them from their curse.”

“Curse?”

“People were slowly losing themselves, turning into monsters. So I did what I always do and tried my best to help. I found the source, but… it was too late. Everyone in the village had already been afflicted. All I could do was stop it spreading. So, I performed a ritual to seal that village away. Forever.”

“I know you. I know if there were any possible other way you’d have done everything you could to find it. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Aerie wept, fingers jabbing at her heart, “but, knowing doesn’t change anything here.”

“Well,” Imoen nodded understandingly, “I’d leave that bit out of the puppet show.”

Aerie snorted, smiling, “yeah.”

“Feel any better, now you’ve gotten it out in the open?”

Now she wasn’t expending energy on keeping that door shut, she did feel a tiny bit lighter. “A little.”

“Guess I’m good at this. Who knew? Certainly not old puffguts; he always said I just drove everyone crazy.”

“Oh, you drive me crazy most of the time too. But you have your moments.”

“Well while I’m on roll let me impart some more wisdom; a big heart can be wounded easily, so I know it can seem like the best thing to do is keep your distance from anything that might. But your big heart can also make you resilient, because even when it’s darkest, even when you’re at your lowest, if you look you’ll see all the good that there is.”

The little girl who brought her flowers, the Dwarf in Waterdeep who hadn’t take advantage of her when he easily could have, Thyn’s dumb jokes… maybe Aerie had been lucky, but she had found that even at her most despairing there were little moments like those to assure her that the world wasn’t lost. That there were things in it worth protecting. Worth fighting for. Thyn… Aerie lifted her head as if she heard something calling, although there was no sound nearby but the running water.

“Hey,” Imoen said, “while I’ve been busy doing nothing, I thought of a new joke; why do rogues wear leather?”

Aerie sighed, pretending not to know. “Why?”

“It’s made of hide.”

Softly smiling and with a slow shake of the head Aerie informed her, “that’s an old joke.”

“Is it? Hmm... My memory’s not what it was. Pretty sure I’m the one who invented it though.”

“Sure you did,” Aerie kept smiling and looked again at the river, the silvery moonlight dancing and flickering. The stars glittered, the air was cool, the night so tranquil. “I wish I could stay here forever, but…”

“You gotta fly?”

“Figuratively speaking,” Aerie pursed her lips as she glanced about, not seeing an obvious path out of the ravine. “Or actually, maybe not.”

“Just one more thing before you do,” Imoen asked, a quirk at the corner of her lips, “a little favor.”

“Of course,” Aerie shuffled on her knees to face her, “anything.”

“To all the future generations that you meet, just pass on this from me; be kind, have fun, and above all, don’t be buffleheads.”

“I’ll try. And I’ll tell them that you’re the second wisest person I ever met.”

Imoen winked, “kick some butt for me, will ya kid?”

“I will.”

“And, if you ever get a chance to visit, can you bring some cinnamon cookies?”

“Of course,” Aerie stood up with a grin, preparing to run and jump, but only getting a few steps before biting her lip, feeling she might never get another chance to say these words; “Imoen, I never told you I-”

Gone.

She was gone.

Aerie stood alone on the riverbank, wondering if she had ever really been there. One day, maybe, she’d find out. First there were people here and now that needed her, and she hadn’t been broken by Vortigan yet; she was getting a rematch.

Ervir openly wept next to the cart in which his son lay. Lucretious stood next to him in her black feathered dress, a folder tucked under one arm, her skeleton’s lined up either side of the cart with their skulls bowed. “There, there,” she patted, “it’s all… all such a pain, isn’t it?”

“I promised I’d protect him,” the grieving father gulped, “how did this happen?!”

“I know, I know. Hard to believe. Why, just yesterday he was running around, laughing, playing, and now look; just an empty husk. A shell,” Lucretious sighed solemnly. “Speaking of,” she pulled a sheet from her folder, “I realize it’s not the best time, but I do need to draw your attention to a clause in the contract you signed.”

Ervir peered and squinted, lost in a haze of grief and confusion. “What?”

“It’s nothing, really; just this little thing here. It’s just, you know, I assume you’re not going to be needing the corpse, and he’s obviously not using it, so-”

“Are you completely freaking insane?!”

“Well,” Lucretious sniffed haughtily, “I realize you’re grieving, but that was uncalled for. But fine; we’ll leave it til tomorrow.” She let the matter drop and stood in respectful silence. She managed to keep that up for almost a minute. “See, I was thinking some kind of haunted house and a story about a boy who slaughtered his family, and then he could jump out of a chest at the end. It would be a way of honoring his memory. And again, I do hate bringing it up now, but you did sign this contract,” she showed him. The paper burst into yellow flames. “Ah! Hot! Hot!” Lucretious puffed, shaking it from her as it dissolved to ash. “You!” She snarled, “you can’t do that! Also, how did you do that? These are supposed to be fire and magic proof.”

“If I explained every trick,” Aerie shrugged, “it wouldn’t really be magic.”

“Well,” Lucretious composed herself, patting down her dress, “you can’t just go running off whenever you feel like it either. I thought we had a deal, remember?”

Aerie came right up to her, Lucretious finding herself shrinking under her glare. “You do not own me,” she informed her.

“Ohhh,” Lucretious backed off, coyly fanning herself with the folder, “there’s something different about you. Don’t know what it is, but I like it.”

“I thought you’d have moved on by now.”

“Yes, well, with a killer on the loose your Harper friends have decided it’s best everyone stays put for now.”

Aerie wasn’t sure that was really the best thing; Jaheira and possibly now her were the only targets Vortigan cared about, and she wouldn’t be able to fight with all she had if innocents were around to be caught up in it. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened to Thyn. But nor was she someone who regularly told others what to do - she would just have to figure it out.

“You!” Ervir roared, veins and muscles bulging as he ran at Aerie, pushing and pinning her against the outer wall of the church, spitting into her face, “this was all your fault! It was you showing up that started putting stupid ideas in his head!”

She lowered her head, doing nothing to fight back. She could have told him she was sorry, that it had been an accident, she hadn’t meant for it to happen, that it was Vortigan who had thrown the knife. These things were all true, but weren’t going to change his heart. Lucretious got a couple other circus performers to pull him off and accompany him inside the church.

“Sorry about that,” Lucretious sighed, “he’s taken it pretty hard, poor thing. You know I tried getting through to him but he’s just not in the mood to listen to anybody right now.”

Aerie ignored her, instead approaching the cart with the little blue boy stretched out inside. They had removed the dagger from his chest and now he just lay there, his eyes strangely still and unblinking. It was not the first time Aerie had seen a corpse like this, but it never became easy. Especially not when they were so small. It just didn’t seem fair. People had told her all of hers that life just wasn’t fair, and this was true. Bad things happened. Sometimes they were no-one’s fault; just tragedies there was no-one to blame or punish for. But too often people used the mantra ‘life isn’t fair’ as an excuse for not caring, for turning a blind eye to the things they could have prevented, or worse yet felt it enabled them to be cruel and to make life so much more unfair than it needed to be. So yes, life wasn’t fair. But here, now, she could do something about it.

She lifted Thyneus into her arms, gently cradling him as she strolled out into a nearby field to face the rising sun. She raised her head, taking its warmth into her pale skin as the birds began their chorus. Thyn’s head hung limply, so she adjusted herself to support it as she gently rocked.

“Do you see the bees?” She quietly asked him. “Every morning they’re stirred by the sun to stretch their wings and clean the dust from their fur. They’ll spend the whole day collecting pollen, making honey, until the sun starts getting low again, the air cooler, then they return to their hives to rest until the next day when the cycle begins again. You see, Haer’Dalis, this what you never understood; things decay, but life always strives for order.”

Aerie bowed her head, and exhaled. All around the village and the circus camp people began turning their heads, abandoning their carts and their meals, some just getting out of bed as a brilliant light pierced their windows. Those closest to the field, which included Lucretious, had to shield their eyes as it seemed like a second sun had appeared. Around it grass began to shoot from the ground, flowers bloomed and along with nearby branches began to stretch and reach for this dazzling new source of life.

The light quickly faded, Aerie dropping to her knees, panting for breath. But in her arms Thyneus started to cough. She put him down and he looked around, bewildered to how he got here, and when he turned to ask her his eyes widened and glistened as he strode back, trying to take her all in. “Woah,” was all he said.
Aerie was bewildered by his reaction, at first. She followed his eyes to find herself looking at her own forearm, but behind it curled long, shimmering bright blue feathers within which stars and galaxies seemed to swirl. She slowly stood, her new wings stretching twice the length of her body, grinning broadly as she tested them with a few flaps.

Lucretious frowned as Aerie stood in the field, trees and flowers framing her like she were some goddess of rebirth, realizing bitterly that she did not have the budget for anything like that.

Aerie put away her wings. She didn’t want to startle Jaheira by making her think a Deva had come to carry her soul away; she was already facing one fight against impossible odds. She had been assured that the bleeding had finally stopped, and although Jaheira still needed a lot of rest she would in fact be fine.

The Harpers had more or less taken over the church and made it a temporary headquarters, Jaheira lying alongside others still recovering in beds donated by the village. She seemed tired, pale, her eyes seemed to look through the Avariel when she approached her side, wingless just like she remembered. She swallowed and weakly said, “Aerie, you… you mustn’t let yourself get so wounded.”

“I’m afraid,” Aerie sweetly smiled, “some lessons I just won’t ever learn.”

“I heard you went home. You found your family.”

That had been a while ago now. She was delirious. Aerie clasped her fingers, telling her softly, “I did.”

“That’s good. I know I,” Jaheira gritted her teeth, her back arching, Aerie having to use all the strength she could muster to make sure she didn’t fall off the bed. It seemed the effort of talking was too much for her heart; she risked reopening her wounds. “I know I can seem harsh, but I only ever wanted you to succeed.”

“And I will,” Aerie assured her. She had always believed Jaheira was invincible. She knew that wasn’t true of course, because no-one was, but still her heart sank a little to see her like this. “Just rest now,” she told her.

Aerie left her thinking that perhaps she should do the same, since she knew there was a fight coming for which she would need every bit of energy she could spare. She found a pew and sat, hanging her head, her fingers curled and fretfully rubbing her thighs. Since the Harpers arrived she’d had things occupying her pretty much non-stop. Now she had a quiet moment alone, doubts began creeping their way back into her mind. She was no great fighter; even Imoen beat her all the time when they were sparring. She could put up a spirited resistance, but in the end her body was always worn down, and now she didn’t have Minsc or Jaheira to help her.

“Oh, dearie,” Lucretious sauntered over to her, “you’re looking defeated again. You could always just, you know, fly away.”

“No,” Aerie sighed, “I can’t. And when the rough stuff starts I won’t cower. I could just really do with a better plan than going toe to toe with seven-foot of bulging muscle that seems impervious to anything I can throw at it.”

“Can’t help you there, dear. But I’ve been thinking; you don’t really want this puppet show to happen, do you?”

She had tried to drop one or two hints she wasn’t really happy with the idea. “No.”

“Oh, why not? I could have made you a star.”

Aerie didn’t know what to say other than that it was of no interest to her. Haer’Dalis had tried to convince her to be an actor, and she’d played along, but soon felt it was just him trying to make her what he wanted rather than really being curious about her. “People have asked me before why I don’t use my power to do whatever I want. Thing is, I do; all I’ve ever wanted is to fly places, to learn and explore all I can, to help people when I can. Prestige can be nice, but it just doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I don’t get it, but I suppose I’ll have to respect it. Besides, the trouble with your story is that there isn’t really a villain. Like if your old ringmaster returned to find you not the helpless child you once were; that could have been a great scene.”

“Sorry. They died before I had a chance for catharsis via revenge.”

“A true pity. Here; you might as well have this.”

She handed Aerie the puppet she’d seen performing with a bearded Minsc. The one that was her but with ginger hair. “You know,” she smiled, “I actually did once color my hair red. Just a silly whim I had; I think I thought it would make me tougher, somehow.”

“Didn’t work?”

She shook her head, stuffing the puppet in her bag of holding. “I’m plenty tough already. The world couldn’t handle Aerie the Red.”

Aerie flinched, awful metallic screeching piercing her ear. Then again, the long drawn out shrieking grind of metal against metal. And again. The Harpers ran to the end of the church, peeking out of the windows, a gaunt elder among them intoning, “it’s him.”

Aerie peeked through a crack in the church’s double doors. Vortigan had chopped up a log and was now just calmly outside sharpening his axe.

“What does he want?” Someone asked.

Ultimately to slay Jaheira, Aerie knew. But for right now she noticed he had laid another seat in front of him, and between them had set down bottles, a couple of tankards. It was both intimidation and an invitation. “I think he wants to talk.”

“So what do we do?”

It was only then Aerie really noticed that everyone in the church was looking to her like she actually knew. Maybe because she had saved many of them when they were wounded, and because of her association with Jaheira. She had never wanted to be a leader, but right now she was the only who could challenge Vortigan. She bit her lip, trying to think what Jaheira would do… she needed a plan, and this might be the chance she’d get to learn about her enemy.

“Well,” she straightened her tunic, “it would be rude not to at least say hello.”

She started to open the doors when one of the Harpers grabbed her arm, hissing, “what if he attacks you?”

“He won’t,” she assured him. Vortigan was a warrior; didn’t seem likely he’d invite parley only for it to be a trap. Doubtful he was here to negotiate either, so maybe he was just curious. Aerie knew she was.

“You survived, witch,” he placed down his whetstone and axe at his side as she approached. “I will grant you; you are more tenacious than your appearance might lead others to believe.”

As Aerie sat on the log opposite him she noticed stood some way behind, lurking between buildings and foliage, half a dozen black robed men and women. “Who are they?” She asked.

“Watchers,” Vortigan snorted almost disdainfully as he poured a tankard for her, “witnesses. Worthless hangers on if I am honest.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk about people who admire you,” Aerie admonished, taking the cup. She sniffed it, swishing the liquid around carefully examining its texture and color. In turn Vortigan leaned forward on his stump, hand on hip, his cold gray eyes examining her.

“Do you think I would need poison to deal with you?”

“Just had to be sure,” Aerie sheepishly shrugged. “I thank you for your hospitality,” she bowed her head, then sipped. It was good wine.

“I have slain every creature that walks, crawls, slithers, or flies,” he informed her, a weary monotony in his voice. “So, what is there left?”

She thought a few seconds, then suggested, “become a fisherman? I hear it can be very meditative.”

Vortigan snorted, nodded slightly. “I do respect your bravery, witch. Which is why I will give you one chance to walk away, and abandon the Harper to me.”

“I fear I would lose your respect if I were to just give up now.”

“True,” he confessed, swigging some wine, “and so, here we are; two warriors who can’t avoid their fates. As it should be.”

“Oh, I do not think anyone has ever called me a warrior before.”

“You have the heart, if not the physique.”

“Well, since we do have this mutual respect going on, could you at least explain why it is you want to kill us?”

“Can a wolf explain why it hunts? Or a bird why it flies? It is just their nature.”

Curiosity was also in Aerie’s nature, and she wasn’t satisfied. If he just wanted to prove he was the best warrior, he already had; he had defeated Jaheira and her both. Why did he need the kill? “Where did you come from?” She asked, hoping that would reveal something.

Vortigan rolled and loosened his shoulder as he answered, “a tribe in the north. We led a pure, simple life; hunting, fishing, playing. We were isolated and cut off from the world, much like your Avariel, I suppose.”

Aerie supposed he had found out about her in the time since their fight, and although she honestly had grown to find the Avariel a rather stagnant and dull society she said to him, “sounds like it was wonderful.”

“It was,” his head lulled, a faraway look in his eye. But then his face darkened as he glowered at her. “Until the Githyanki came, and on that day we ceased to be innocents. Those of us they didn’t kill they made fight until I was the only one left. Then later I broke free, and I slaughtered all of them. These,” he snapped his arm up straight, showing her the bracers he word, “I took from their leader, after breaking her back and watching her bleed out on the floor for hours.”

There were tiny Githyanki runes scratched on the metal - Aerie had learned to read them a little when she was in Sigil - although the bracer’s themselves didn’t look like a Gith design; probably plundered from somewhere. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say.

“Why?” He shrugged, “you do not order the Githyanki.”

“I just am. My nature, I suppose.”

“Your sorrow is wasted. I do not regret the Gith showing me the truth of this world; that in the end there is nothing but blood, and dust.”

She didn’t know if it was nature or if he just hadn’t been as lucky as her; no moments to help stave off his despair. But she couldn’t imagine ever being so narrowly focused and single minded as him. Perhaps that was what made him so strong. It was also something that could be exploited, since she was more sure now that there was no way she could talk him out of his course.

“I always finish what I begin,” he informed her, “are you still certain you wish to die with the Harper?”

“Not really keen on the whole dying idea, but I think you know the answer.”

“Then I will give you until noon to make your peace.”

“Gosh,” Aerie blinked, “not a lot of time. I suppose I had better get ready.”

Vortigan peered into her, scrutinizing her. “I have defeated countless foes stronger, faster, more powerful than you. What is it you think you can do here?”

Whether he asked out of pity and hope she would change her mind, or just curiosity and bemusement that someone so obviously outmatched would challenge him, Aerie didn’t know. She suspected the later. “What I always do,” she said, draining her cup, “the best I can.” She had everything she needed so with that she stood, bowing to each of the watchers. “It was a pleasure to see all of you too, sirs, ma’am. Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you,” Vortigan raised his cup. Aerie arched a brow curiously at him. “A new experience,” he explained, “I’ve never liked someone whose head I’m going to cut off before.”

“Golly. Well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Aerie checked on and prepared her spells, scrolls, potions. Many of the Harpers wanted to help in the fight, but she had chosen a site for the battle away from the village; their job was to make sure no-one else came near, and if she should fall do all they could to get Jaheira away. She had watched Vortigan when he left, and knew this was the road he would take on his return, being as he was supremely confident no-one could stop him, and nothing had given him a reason to doubt it. And so in the middle of it she knelt and hung her head, praying to Baervan and Aerdrie Faenya and whatever other gods might, this once, be kind to her.

She had an arcane eye scouting around just above the trees, just in case Vortigan decided to surprise her. But, he didn’t. With a resigned sigh she stood, as ready for battle as she would ever be.

Vortigan strode slowly, but surely, regarding the world around - the trees, the sun, the fields, birds, and busy bees - coolly and impassively, unmoved by them; only by his own grim purpose. Even when the world began to change - the sky turning purple, green fields giving way to a barren, blasted landscape, and a legion of mirrors rose out of the road in front of him - his head merely tilted, only mildly curious.

He strode on, the mirrors floating around, his reflection distorted. There was guttural growl, heavy paws thumping the ground, bounding, jumping, pouncing. He swung his axe, slicing through the snout of a werewolf, then watching it fall as it turned to dust and was blown away.

“Impressive illusions, witch,” he snorted, “but you only delay the inevitable.”

Aerie’s voice echoed from each of the mirrors, “I believe in second chances, Vortigan, I really do. But you hurt my friends so you’re only getting one; just turn around, and walk away.”

“I believe you know my answer.”

“So be it.”

The air crackled, Vortigan raising his bracer’s to absorb the impact of three bright searing orbs. He spun round one of the mirrors pulling a knife from his belt and there glimpsed a fleeting shadow and threw. Another mirror shattered, Aerie stood behind with her finger in the air, the knife frozen just inches from her forehead. Her hand twisted, the knife turned about, flying back along the trajectory it had came, Vortigan striking it down with his axe as he bounded at her.
As before Aerie raised her shield. She couldn’t run fast, but she had some agility; enough to deflect and dodge his initial flurry of blows, bright magic armor absorbing the ones that did make it to her. But as before she soon started to tire. She ducked under a swing, managing to finally land a hit on his side, cracks and sparks of electricity spreading through his veins. To her horror this didn’t seem to do much more than irritate him. He grabbed the edge of her shield and kicked, ripping it from her as she was flung away.

Aerie rolled to her knees, dazed but recovered in time to see Vortigan rushing at her with his axe raised. Not in time to get out of the way. She flinched, shielding her eyes as the axe fell, Vortigan snarling as it struck. But this was not yet his moment of victory, his snarl turning to surprise as his blade caught between two shimmering blue wings that encased his prey.

She pushed, staggering him as her wings swooshed, the tips of her feathers scratching his flesh, and then she jumped back taking to the skies out of his reach. She circled, a bright orange ball growing in her hand until she threw, Vortigan and a wide area around him erupting and engulfed by brilliant dancing orange flames.
For a moment even Aerie had a hard time seeing through the glow of all the fire. For that moment she dared hope that had been enough. But then he emerged, flames clinging to him but his skin unburnt as he spun, Aerie’s surprise enabling the rock he hurled to just clip her, yet it was enough to bring her crashing to the ground.

She scrambled to her feet, still having some distance between them as he charged. She swung her staff, a thick silver crackling bolt striking one of the mirrors, bouncing off and then between all the others, striking him again and again. A column of flame erupted from her, hitting him, his bracers glowing red, yellow, white hot as he pushed ever onwards, nothing she could put in his way seeming to slow him down.

It was time. As he came close, axe ready to strike again, she flew up, spinning over him as she chanted. The illusionary battlefield disappeared, as did her wings and the magic armor over her skin. She dropped to the ground behind him, just a weak and vulnerable elf, unable to resist as kicked her into the trunk of nearby tree.

But he was confused by what she had done. “Antimagic?” He squinted suspiciously, “why would you place yourself at such a huge disadvantage?”
Aerie gulped and swallowed as she staggered to her feet. “Those are very powerful bracers,” she explained, “they’ve been absorbing all the magic I can throw at them. But, you see, all that energy has got to go somewhere; dispersed back into the weave. Which I’ve just cut you off from.”
Even if his mind couldn’t decipher what she’d said, it soon became clear as the bracers continued to glow, humming, his flesh already starting to sear. He spat, dropping his axe as he tried desperately to unfasten them, turning to get outside of her field. But she jumped on his back, hanging and holding tight onto his neck as he thrashed.

“I’m not much of a boxer or wrestler,” Aerie admitted, “but I am a great witch.”

The next part she had to time perfectly, dropping the field and hastening away just as Vortigan pulled the bracers loose and chucked them, but not in time to completely avoid the blast. He was thrown, colliding with the unyielding bark of a tree, falling and rolling into a ditch.
Groaning he sat up, gritting and grimacing as he flung himself at the side of the trench to snap his shoulder back into place. A shadow fell over him, briefly. Aerie touched down on her toes further along the trench, her wings disappearing again. Vortigan had lost his axe, but it didn’t matter; all he had to do was get close enough to clamp his hands around her throat.

He sprung up and bounded, a few strides being all it would take to close the distance. A yellow bolt flew from her, striking him in the chest, and he winced, looking down in shock as he could smell his flesh burning from the acid. More orbs and bolts flew at him, his body shaking from each impact as he staggered and was forced further and further back along the trench. Blood dripped from his lips as he dropped to his knees, and a final orb struck his head knocking him all the way down into the mud.

Aerie could finally catch her breath, climbing out of the trench and back to the road where she put her hands on her knees, sucking in all the clean air she could. She had actually won. The gods had actually been kind to her. It was only a pity Jaheira hadn’t seen it. Or maybe that was best; she would find something to criticize, and Aerie really felt she deserved at least a moment of triumph.

But then she heard rustling from the ditch, her eyes widening as she watched Vortigan rising yet again. Although his body was charred and battered as he spat out blood, only able to crawl. Still he kept coming, only pausing to rise to his knees and grin at her.

“This,” he wheezed, “is the life of a warrior. It is a simple life. Pure. You seek out foes. You conquer them. And when one bests you, you die.”

Aerie guessed she wasn’t a warrior, then, because she really didn’t understand. With a final burst he pulled a dagger and charged. Aerie’s wings lashed out to defend her. He rushed by, falling again to his knees, a red trickle across his throat. Then he fell on his back, still grinning up at the sky as he breathed his last.

Aerie admitted that when in battle, she felt a clarity she rarely did at other times, as if a fog lifted and her purpose was clear; win or survive. But when the battle was over and this was the result… was it really what he wanted? What he had truly been seeking this entire time? Perhaps they were too different for her to ever really understand.

The black robed watchers appeared, Aerie tensing in case they wanted revenge for their fallen idol. But they ignored her, gathering around and kneeling by Vortigan, a weeping woman placing a gentle hand on his chest. After a few moments of mourning a couple turned and genuflected to her.

But no; she didn’t want followers. All she wanted right now was a drink and then a long rest.

“Now that was a battle,” Lucretious beamed, “best I’ve seen since the Hellgate Harlequins thrashed the Luskan Lumberjacks at checkers. I’d say you dragged it on a little longer than you needed to, but for heightening the drama you get ten out of ten.”

Aerie hadn’t realized she was being scored, which was definitely for the best as the extra pressure might have led to a very different outcome. “Um, thank you?”

“Of course it wouldn’t have been possible without the little pep-talk I gave you in the church.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Oh, of course you do, dearie; you must remember me giving you the puppet then telling you exactly what you needed to do.”

“I remember the puppet.”

“Well you’ve had a busy couple of days; I suppose it’s not surprising you’d be fuzzy on some details,” Lucretious stood tall, hand on hip as a folded tapped her lip, ideas almost visibly swirling in her eyes. “Don’t suppose you’d change your mind about the show? I think this might make the news, so now that you’re current again it might be worth cashing in after all.”

“Just,” Aerie wearily rolled her eyes, “do what you want. We both know you’re going to anyway. You don’t need me.”

“Oh, a witch of your skill would have been great to have on the roster,” Lucretious sighed, “but I can tell your heart is set on continuing your little adventures. So good luck, Aerie of Anywhere.”

Lucretious fell into her chaise, lounging there her skeletons creaked and lifted her up. Aerie took the reins of her gray mare - which she had been allowed to keep - leading it away, tail swishing happily. It was a clear day, nary a cloud in the sky. She could have flown, of course, but she had supplies and things to carry and honestly, she was in no rush.

Ervir nodded to her, Thyneus hanging his head next to him, the little boy the saddest to see her go. She knelt by him, holding out her balled fists, inviting him to choose one. He tapped the left, so she turned it over and opened it… empty. She then unveiled the right… also nothing. She raised her hands, palms facing him, making sure he could see there was nothing up her sleeves, then with her hand she covered his ear, fingers rustling as if she were trying to wriggle something out. Then she pulled it back, the little pink owlbear necklace dangling from her fingers.

“Here,” she said, dropping it into his hands.

Thyn squinted uncertainly, “wasn’t this a present your friend gave you?”

“I don’t need it. If I ever need to talk to my friend, she’s here,” Aerie tapped her chest, “so, you look after it for me, okay?”

“Okay!” He grinned. But his smile turned a bit as he looked up and pleaded, “promise you’ll come visit us some day, all right?”

That, Aerie just didn’t know. “My life,” she sighed, “is always seeking something that’s forever just beyond the next hill. I don’t really know what it is, or if it’s possible to ever reach. But in striving sometimes I will see wonders, and the road there can be thrilling, and very dangerous. So, I’m afraid I can’t promise, but I hope I see you again. One day.”

Aerie led her horse to the side of the road, allowing all the circus wagons to trundle by, Lucretious waving her fan and blowing kisses to each of the villagers who lined the road as they left. “So long! Farewell! Until we meet again! Mwah!” Aerie watched them for a while, the wagons disappearing one by one over a hill. She supposed the circus wasn’t quite as bad as she remembered. Still horrible and exploitative and she was glad to be out of it.

She mounted the horse, leaving the village by a different road, enjoying the breeze in her hair. It was soon very quiet, save the chirping of a nearby sparrow.
A little further along the road split, and there was a group of riders waiting for her there led a by a silver haired half-elf.

“Jaheira!” Aerie gasped, genuinely surprised; she thought she was still recovering in the church. “You’re okay!”

The Harper answered haughtily, “did you think I would let you just slip away without a word?”

“I’m sorry,” Aerie felt herself wilting under her gaze, “I’m not very good at saying goodbye.”

Jaheira huffed, bringing her horse alongside. “Listen to me carefully, child, for I will only say it once.”

“Okay…”

“I’m,” her lips squished as if tasting something very unfamilar, “I am proud of you.”

Aerie’s eyes glistened, a very wide smile on her face. “I-I… thank you.”

“Do not get sappy about it,” Jaheira slowly exhaled, “but know that you would be welcomed in Baldur’s Gate, should you ever decide to stop anywhere, or just visit.”

Baldur’s Gate… Aerie had been there once before, to visit the Hall of Wonders. Perhaps there would be new wonders now. But there were so many wonders everywhere. She touched the symbol of Baervan Wildwanderer under her tunic before deciding, “I might take you up on that, one day. But for now, I don’t think I’ve ever seen where that road goes.”