Your Dark Gospel

Chapter Six

Elira watched with a grin as Astarion carefully picked his way through the murky swamp land. He was dressed in his usual elegant attire, with crisp, white lace trim around the neck. Perfect for prowling the city taverns, inns, and alehouses for his nightly misdeeds. Highly impractical for traversing one of the deepest, coldest layers of hell. Even for an undead vampire spawn.

She noticed that he carried no pack on his back and held no weapons but for the ornate twin daggers sheathed at his hips.

This certainly wouldn’t do.

He gave her a small, not entirely convincing smile as he approached the clearing where she stood with Scerlitas Fel and a tall wizard for hire. The air was heavy with moisture and the sounds of tiny insects screeching into the night.

“Well, this is dreadful.” Astarion said. His voice was dripping with fake enthusiasm as he approached where they had gathered around a circle painted on the uneven ground. A small  perimeter had been formed by several torches jutting out of the mud, bathing them in a warm glow.

“You do remember we’re going to the coldest layer of hell?”

“Doesn’t everyone travel to the hells with nothing more than the clothes on their backs?” Astarion responded sarcastically. “What exactly did you expect Cazador to do? Send me with a packed lunch?”

Elira hadn’t expected much, but he might as well have come naked. A sight, she would admit only to herself, she wouldn’t have been disappointed to see. She cleared her throat and pushed the thought far, far away. Cazador had no idea that Astarion planned to disregard his orders and travel somewhere else entirely. Though, he could have better prepared him for a hag filled swamp land.

Thankfully, she came prepared for both of them.

“Sceleritas, fetch him a pack.”

Her butler scoffed disrespectfully but turned away from the circle and darted into the shadows in forced obedience.

“Fiesty little, thing. Is it yours?”

“Sometimes,” Elira sighed. Sceleritas was her sworn servant, but he had a mind of his own and was almost as stubborn as she was. He would never actively work against her, but that didn’t mean there weren’t complications between them.

“And I suppose you’re going to introduce me to your friend?” Astarion angled his head toward the wizard beside her.

He was a young man, or appeared to be, you could never really tell with wizards. Hells, you couldn’t tell with half of Fae rune, for that matter. He wore a long robe that was a rich shade of purple with chestnut colored hair that sat atop his strong shoulders. She could just see the outline of something dark and inky peaking out from his neckline. A tattoo, perhaps? It surprised her because he didn’t seem the type.

He was handsome in a scholarly sort of way. She imagined he spent his time toiling away in ancient towers and dusty libraries. Their lives never having the chance to intersect if it weren’t for this particular moment of need. He hadn’t bothered to look up from the book he was reading. One long finger traced the lines as he read them and murmured to himself as though he were rehearsing a script. She tried not to feel nervous as she considered that he might not be up to the task at hand. Opening a portal to the hells was no deed, and they were aiming for one of the deepest layers to boot.

“Ah, yes,” she answered slowly. “This is Gale . . . of Waterdeep. He’s going to open the portal.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Is he now?”

Gale snapped the book shut and smiled up at them. “Of course,” he said, inclining his head toward Astarion. “Pleasure to meet you. Shall we get on with the rings, then?”