To Baldur's Gate

Chapter Four

Between the bursts of flame and knives of ice from my fingertips, Lae'zel's swordsmanship, Gale's waves of thunder, and Astarion's quick knife work, the goblins were massacred within minutes. When the dust settled, blood ran down the cliff's edges and pooled around the bodies that lay dead. The gates were fully open, and our group followed the few humans into the druid grove, no questions asked.

"We'll have to make this quick if we're to get back to camp before sundown," Gale murmured close by.

"Or we could take as long as we'd like and give Shadowheart something to worry about," Astarion offered. He winked at me, and warmth washed through me like a damned flood. Gods help me.

The four of us followed a man toward the tiefling leader, Zevlor, who had been ordered to open the doors while the humans were running for their lives. He didn't look happy.

"What the hell, Zevlor?" The man shouted, brandishing his sword and waving it around carelessly. My instincts told me that this man had little to no experience in fighting, especially with a sword as large as the one he was given.

"Where is the druid?" Zevlor was calm despite the man's threatening attitude towards him.

"I told you, the goblins captured him. He'll be halfway to the goblin city by now," the man said. "Why didn't you open the gate when we needed in? You almost got us all killed!"

"You brought goblins to our home. There are children here to protect! Would you rather I sacrifice their safety for yours?" Zevlor was trying his best to remain diplomatic, but the man was becoming increasingly agitated. I stepped in, hoping to ease some of the tension.

"Please, let's calm down. You're making a scene," I said. My companions stood by me, waiting patiently in the background.

"This is not your home, demon. And you'd better shut your mouth, wicked drowling," the man spat at me, blood from his wounds mixing with his filthy saliva. Instantly, I felt an arm pull me back and Astarion took a step forward, partially blocking me from the human man's view. Lae'zel drew her sword, swearing angrily in her native tongue. I wiped at my face. 

"Apologize." Astarion's voice had lost its usual charm - it was utterly soulless. His eyes were focused on the man, begging him to make a move, to give Astarion a reason to rip him apart. If I hadn't just been spat at, I would have been flattered.

"This woman saved your life, you halfwit. Show some respect!" Zevlor stepped closer to the human. Trapped between the tiefling and Astarion, the man was cornered.

"I'll speak to the bitch how I see fit. And as for you, you malignant devil spawn, you can fuck off -!"

The crunch of his face against my fist was as satisfying as it was painful, but I could live with a few broken bones. The human lost his balance and tumbled into the dirt. In the silence that followed, Astarion tightened his grip on my arm, pulling me close. His expression softened as his thumb came up to my face, brushing what was left of the man's saliva off of my cheek.

"Well, I'm glad someone punched him." Gale laughed, but it was strained and awkward. "Zevlor, is it? We're travelers in search of a healer. Do you have any such person in this grove?"

Gale and the tiefling continued talking, but I was a million realms away, lost in whatever spell Astarion had put me under. His eyelashes were so dark compared to the silver of his eyebrows, and long enough that they cast shadows across his cheekbones. I was transfixed, and if he noticed me staring, he didn't say anything of it. Astarion let go of my arm and gently took the hand I had used to break the human's nose.

"How badly does it hurt?" He asked, bringing my knuckles close to look them over. They were sore and probably going to bruise, but it was worth it. 

"It's tolerable. I've had worse." My mind took me back to my memories of childhood - taking beatings for running off and being disobedient. That pain had been scarring, but this was empowering.