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

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.”