Work Text:
Taking in a deep breath, Shepherd let the cool morning air fill his lungs. Soft grey daylight was pouring through the boughs of trees overhead, a low mist covering the soft earth of the forest floor. If he hadn't witnessed quite the contrary, things would almost seem peaceful. He was still getting used to the fact that there was actual sunlight again, something he swore he hadn't felt on his skin since he left Yona. Gods… What he wouldn’t give to feel the desert heat again, to be lying in his own bed for a change. And he missed the Good Doc… The old fella was always there to greet him after a long hunt, food on the table and the broadest grin on his face. If he made it back, he was gonna stick around home for a few weeks at least, help Doc in his workshop. Just to remember what peace and home felt like for awhile. Before he left, he made him promise that he’d come back, safe and sound. Well, he do his damndest to uphold the safe part, but he wasn’t sure that he would ever be ‘sound’ again. He didn’t think anyone could be sane after all of this… From the moment they stepped foot in Barovia, the land was testing their will. And with Ravenloft looming over them, something clutched at his heart, squeezing the life from him. A gnawing emptiness grew inside him the more fixated on it, replaced only by a creeping chill that ran from horns to tail tip.
He began to pace restlessly, anything to keep his mind away a bit longer from the horrors he knew were waiting for them. They had stayed on the outskirts of the long abandoned Vistani camp, one more night before they would take Strahdanya up on her invitation. But while the others were asleep or perhaps preparing for the long day ahead of them, he had snuck out from the Professor’s case, walking a ways into the woods. Not for nothing… But glancing up at the bit of sky through the treetops, Shepherd cracked his knuckles. The morning was drifting on, soon they would have to leave. And he wasn’t quite ready for that, he still had one last thing he wanted to do.
Taking out a few empty bottles that once held healing draughts, he tied some twine to their necks, stringing them up on a low branch. Standing back a few paces, he eyed his handiwork. Not the best, but they were about eye level and thankfully there wasn’t much of a breeze. Hopefully an easy target. Scanning the woodland around him, he listened carefully, honing his senses around the usual woodland sounds. Quiet except for the odd caw of a crow, some wolves in the far distance.
Dammit, where was he? It wasn’t like Sarnax to leave him standing out here. Though… He had seemed rather apprehensive about the idea last night. Shepherd himself wasn't sure why the idea came to him in the first place. Teaching Sarnax to shoot was the last thing he ever expected to do on this expedition, especially now. But it had been a quiet evening in the Professor's townhouse, resting in one of the plush sitting rooms, reflecting on all that had happened in the weeks that they had spent here. Leaning back in a chair, sipping whiskey and staring into Sarnax's lantern, it suddenly just came to him. He wanted to teach him. He needed to teach him. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. Took pestering Sarnax all night before he finally agreed to at least try. His brow furrowed; it wasn’t like him to make excuses either…
Moments ticked by, and just as he was about to march back and see why the hell he had stood him up, his ears perked up at the sound of rustling brush and the familiar clank of a lantern. Hat in hand, Shepherd felt a smile alight his face as he saw Sarnax slither out from the circle of trees.
“Took you long enough! For a moment, I thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ out here.” The lizardfolk’s eyes slid towards the hanging bottles, grunting,
“Apologies, after taking the time to pray, I was waylaid by the Professor who insisted that we go over his notes on all that we had learned from Baba Lysaga’s hut.” Giving him a knowing nod, Shepherd clapped his hat back on his head. Once the Professor had his mind set on something, it usually was impossible to shake him from it. Knowing him, he’d probably gather everyone again to go over their plan one last time. But that was for later. Pressing a hand onto Sarnax’s back, he ushered him further into the clearing.
“Well, we don’t have much of the mornin’ left. You ready?” As he said that, he could feel the tension rolling off of Sarnax, his shoulders hunched around him as he held his lantern close to his chest. He didn’t answer, his gaze firmly fixed on his lantern as a claw idly traced the blazing red eye of Gherix that hung from his neck. Shifting from foot to foot, Shepherd grimaced and cleared his throat,
“Listen… I know I dragged you all the way out here, but if you really don’t wanna to do this, you don’t have to…” Shaking his head, Sarnax finally looked him in the eyes. There was an odd… weariness to his gaze. Not borne of physical exhaustion, but something he couldn’t put his finger on.
“...You did not drag me here, I walked here.” Shepherd rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue,
“I know I didn-”
“And I would not have made the walk if I truly did not want to.” There was a slight clink as the lantern swung on its hook and Shepherd felt warm metal press into his hand, Sarnax wrapping Shepherd's fingers around the ring. Even though this wasn’t the first time he had held the lantern, the heat coming off of it always took him by surprise. It was blazing hot, like being next to a roaring inferno. Already, he could feel sweat begin to prickle at his skin and something fluttered in his stomach. To anyone else, this was just an odd lantern, made of bits of reptilian bones, possibly draconic, and iron blackened by searing flames. But to Sarnax, this everburning flame was sacred fire. And his devotion was acknowledged, something that Shepherd had witnessed time and time again, in awe and in horror. Even now, there was a small wyrmling curled around the flame, little red eyes staring up at him. It didn’t stir from it's resting place as the lantern was passed to him, but Shepherd swore he heard a small chirp from the little fella. Looking from the lantern to Sarnax, Shepherd blew out a sigh,
“Well… Alright then.” Pulling Redemption from it's holster, he held it out to him, “Be careful, it isn’t primed but it's still a powerful weapon.” Sarnax gave him a slow nod, tail thrashing back and forth around him. He half expected him to make some sort of comment or even refuse to take it. But he let him place it in his hand, the weight of it seemingly taking him off guard as he fumbled with it slightly, a low hiss escaping from him. For a few moments, he stood there, letting it rest in his palm.
“Er… Somethin’ wrong? You gotta grab it by the grip buddy.” Never taking his eyes from the revolver, Sarnax cupped it with both hands, his voice barely above a whisper,
“Are you sure, Shepherd?” The question caught him off guard, and for a moment he wasn’t quite sure what he meant.
“Am I- Of course I’m sure. I suggested this, didn’t I?” Sarnax shook his head and Shepherd noticed for the first time his hands were slightly shaking.
“These were made for you to wield, by the Good Doctor. They…They have no business being in hands such as mine…” A strange warmth blossomed in his chest and Shepherd felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth,
“Nonsense. Your faith and power from Gherix allows you to deliver redemption and judgment, yea? You’re just as good to wield ‘em, ya just need a bit practice.” Reaching over, he curled Sarnax’s fingers around the revolver, “Now, don’t lock your elbows and make sure you got a firm grip…” Doing as he was told, Sarnax seemed to relax, though only a small bit, his eyes never leaving the gun for long. All the while, Shepherd instructed him through the various working of the pistol: how it was loaded, the arcane power Doc had infused it with, various safety concerns when working with it and lastly, pulling back the hammer and firing.
It took some time to get through it all. Shepherd slowly nudged him into a better stance, allowing himself another small smile at how Sarnax’s gaze pierced into their makeshift targets far before his finger was on the trigger. In all, he was surprised at how well he was taking to this. All of Doc’s technical instructions had taken him awhile to understand, and though he had simplified it as much as possible, there was still a lot to learn. And even more surprising was all of his questions: how did he properly care for both of them, what led to their creation, how long has he carried them, how did he become so adept with them. Some were things he hadn’t ever told anyone else, not that many people asked to begin with. And as benign as the questions were, each took him by surprise and he flushed. Almost like he was sharing secrets that were never meant to see the light of day, but it felt… good, great even to talk about them. And watching Sarnax keenly listen to every word, gentle when his reminiscing turned somber or even a slight smile at his wild, youthful antics, the cold, suffocating darkness of Barovia seemed so distant.
Finally, Shepherd took a few steps back, giving him a nod to go whenever he was ready. Sarnax took in a few deep breaths before slowly raising his arms and taking aim. It was really something. Poised and focused, he was hardly moving. Shepherd wasn’t sure if he was even breathing. There was an intensity to him, more so than usual. Like he was holding his lantern, but… different. Every bit of him was focused into this one thing. There was a level of seriousness that almost erred on the side of comical. Looking down at the lantern in his hands, Shepherd felt its heat wash over him, making his whole body tingle. He was glad he did this… There was no better person he’d trust with either Judgement or Redemption.
Moments ticked by in silence, neither of them moving. Shepherd’s eyes darted between Sarnax and an empty bottle. What was he waiting for? Looking over at him, he mentally checked him over again. He had a strangle-like grip on the revolver, he definitely wasn’t going to drop it. And with how he was standing, he wasn’t likely going to hurt himself trying to fire it. Though the amount of kickback from either of the pistols took some getting used to-
*BANG*
A bolt of cyan arcane force flashed from the gun’s muzzle, clipping the side of a bottle, showering bits of rose colored glass everywhere. The pistol snapped back from the force, smacking directly into Sarnax’s snout with a wet, sickening crunch. Blood began pouring from his nose, soaking into the front of his robes.
“Fuckin’ hell, a-are you okay?!” Panic pumping through him, Shepherd stumbled forward, grasping Sarnax’s face. The lizardman hardly seemed to hear him, his eyes glassy as he crumpled slightly, swaying precariously. Tipping his head up slightly, Shepherd ripped a white handkerchief from a pocket, trying to staunch some of the blood with it. He threw an arm around his shoulders, still clutching the lantern, trying to guide him back to the Professor’s case,
“Easy now, let’s get you back. I-I got some things in my pack…” Mostly salves and bandages really, he had no idea how he was going to set his broken nose. Lizardfolk anatomy wasn’t in his wheelhouse, but Gods he had to do something! Jostling him seemed to snap Sarnax out of shock as he blinked several times, letting out a shaky breath,
“S-Shepherd… I… apologize…”
“Why in the Nine Hells are you sorry?! Shit, I’m sorry! I shoulda thought to warn you that they got some kick to them!” And as if registering this for the first time, Sarnax raised a hand to his snout, hissing through clenched teeth as he recoiled from the pain.
“I…should have known better than to assume that I could wield such a power…”
“What- You did fine! Look-!” Shepherd tilted his head towards the other end of the clearing. The one that Sarnax hit was dead-center of the set, one side of the bottle completely blown away. It was only because of the thick glass that kept the rest of the bottle mostly intact, though any amount of force and it would shatter completely. Even from where they were standing, Shepherd could see the heavy cracks spidering across the glass.
“See? First shot you took too! Hell, you did better than I did when first learnin’ to shoot. Almost shot my toes off…”
“W-Why were you aiming for your foot, Shepherd..?!”
“T-That’s not where I was aimin’, it was an accident!” Shaking his head, Shepherd rolled his eyes, “That isn’t important right now, damnit… Let’s just get you fixed up.” He tried to lead Sarnax out of the clearing, but he stood firm.
“Shepherd…” Following Sarnax’s gaze, he realized that he was still clutching Redemption. Giving up an exasperated sigh, Shepherd turned towards him to give him easier reach to the holster on his hip, muttering to just put the damn thing away. Probably for the best. Not that he expected Sarnax to shoot one of them by accident, but if something were to happen, he’d like to have both of his pistols in reach.
It wasn’t easy. As hardened as Sarnax was, the blow left him shaken and unsteady. He leaned against Shepherd, placing a hand against his chest. A bit of blood smeared onto his vest and he could feel the slight prick of his claws as his fingers curled into him, and Shepherd felt his heart clench under his touch.
“I-Damnit, I knew I was forgettin’ somethin’…” There was a grunt from Sarnax, brow furrowed as fussed with the holster, Redemption not seeming to fit into it,
“Do not dwell on it. It is something you have grown accustomed to. It is second nature to simply expect such a thing.” Lowering his head, Shepherd mumbled that the revolver needed to be put in the other way around. Sarnax growled something under his breath that he couldn’t quite catch, but his grip on his vest tighten. Wincing, he shook his head, trying to keep the handkerchief on his nose,
“I guess… I’m sorry, it was selfish of me to ask this and now you’re all busted up.” Finally managing to holster the weapon after a bit more fumbling, Sarnax sighed,
“And it was through your careful teachings that I was not more hurt. If I taught you to wield fire as I do, I might forget that I am hardened to its searing heat and you would be burned. A simple accident, nothing that cannot be fixed.” The corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile, a little bit of fire returning to his eyes. Still leaning onto him, he twisted about and reached out for the lantern. Shepherd tried to pass it back to him, yelping in surprise as Sarnax only gently held his hand, the lantern swinging between them. Gingerly tapping a claw to the end of his nose, the fire in the lantern swelled with a flash. A blistering heat radiated up Shepherd’s arm, almost painful in its intensity. Spreading to his core, his whole body felt as if it was consumed by the lantern’s flames. Yet despite that, he relaxed into it, basking in it. Smoke began to curl from Sarnax’s nostrils as the smell of burnt flesh and ash wafted up with it, a scent that made Shepherd’s stomach churn. But he knew from all the other times to trust in this fire, in dragon’s fire, in Sarnax’s fire.
With a last few cracks and clicks, Sarnax’s snout finally righted itself and the heat faded. Seeing that the blood finally stopped, Shepherd pulled away slight, not realizing that he had been holding his breath the whole time,
“Are…you feeling alright?”
“Yes, much. Perhaps…” He paused slightly, fullly taking the lantern from Shepherd, “Better than before. Thank you, I will… ponder and relish all that you have taught me.” The smile returned to Shepherd’s face and he clapped Sarnax on the back,
“Good… Feelin’ light-headed at all? Between the blow and the blood loss…” Looking down at the handkerchief still clutched in his hand, almost no bit of it was still white. Surprising just how much blood poured out of him, but he supposed a lot more got broken… Sarnax rubbed at his nose, flicking away some of the dried blood left on his snout,
“Perhaps a bit. Would… you allow me to rest a while before going back?”
“Of course, for a moment. I don’t wanna rush ya, but wouldn’t want the others to think that somethin’ happened to us.” Giving him a nod, Sarnax settled himself in the shade of a large oak, gesturing to the space beside him. Without hesitating, Shepherd plopped himself down next to him, leaning up against the trunk. A light breeze was starting to blow through the woods and there was the lonesome song of a single songbird that drifted through the clearing. Despite the relative peace, he kept both hands on Judgement and Redemption, his senses trained on their surroundings.
Silence settled between them, one that Shepherd wasn’t sure was awkward or not. Glancing over at Sarnax, he could tell that he was deep in his own thoughts, eyes half closed as he stared vacantly ahead. It really shouldn’t, but it bothered Shepherd a bit. While he was prone to silent prayer or meditation, something had changed. But what exactly, he couldn’t even begin to guess. It was… just a weird, sickening feeling, writhing in the pit of his gut.
“Shepherd… May I ask you a question?” Starting at his voice, he nodded sheepishly, pushing his hat away from his eyes to meet Sarnax’s gaze.
"Why Redemption? Would Judgment not have been more appropriate, given all that has happened?" For a moment, Shepherd just stared at him. How… He never did say which of his revolvers he had handed to him, and it wasn’t like their names were etched into them. He could always just tell by the feel. Judgement was a bit heavier of the two. A heat crept into his face and for once, he was glad for his red skin.
"...I guess? I just... Well, I dunno. It just felt like the right choice I suppose." He couldn't say it. It felt too corny to say that this strange man redeemed him in some way. Before, he would have gladly just left Barovia at the first chance he got, go back to Yona and hunt the monsters he knew. And perhaps it was his own hot-headed stubbornness that he was sticking to this til the end. And he just couldn’t sit by and watch as the helpless and innocent were slaughtered on whim. But it was Sarnax's urging that he was this 'Shepherd of Lost Children', the one to lead everyone through the darkness that really stuck with him. It was a lot of responsibility to put on one person, but the more that he was around him, the more he understood what he meant.
Of all the people here, it was in him that he saw a light, a blazing fire. He saw the good in him... Past the infernal horns and devilish tail. Perhaps because he himself knew what that felt like... It made his blood boil all the times Sarnax was referred to as nothing more than an animal, as a pet. Sure, he was a bit strange at best, but there was genuine wisdom to a lot of what he said if you actually listened. And a warm kindness, though flavored in his own odd way. Fiddling with Redemption’s grip, he could feel Sarnax’s gaze boring into him.
"I see... Shepherd, what is Yona like?" For a few moments, all the tiefling could do was stare at him, dumbfounded.
"What- Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity. I have never been outside of Striga, nor even from the woods that I call home. I would like to know the land you come from." Blowing out a sigh, Shepherd leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair,
"Er... I, uh... Well, there's a lot to Yona, its a whole continent after all. But I'm from the deserts, filled with great pillars of rock called mesas, and canyons, all carved from the rock by strong, winding rivers that once flowed through the land. There...isn't a lot of plant life around, mostly scrub brush and cacti. But the land is still good if you give it enough water."
"Is it very dry?"
"Very." Grinning, he nudged him with an elbow, "And hot. By early afternoon, you can see the heat rollin’ off the ground in the far distance. I think you'd like it." A low growl rumbled from Sarnax, almost a purr in the back of his throat,
"I think I would."
"Doc would like you too I feel." He could feel the tip of Sarnax's tail twitch against his thigh. Looking over at him, it was hard to stifle his smile seeing a spot of color rush to his face,
"You…think so? I do know from your stories of him that it would be an honor to meet him. I sense that he has the same spark as you do." Now that was an idea… It would be a month or more of travel between the forest that Sarnax hailed from and Rattlesnake, but that hardly fazed him now. He’d make that trip several times over in a heartbeat, just with the two of them traveling. None of the darkness, the horrors, the hags or vampires… Just the freedom of the open plains and warmth of companionship. He hesitated a moment, heart nearly skipping a beat as he gave up a dry cough,
"Hey... Once this is over and we bring down Strahdanya and the Professor concludes his damned expedition… What would you say to visitin’ for awhile?" Silence. Something that made Shepherd’s heart race and he silently cursed at himself. For a few long moments, Sarnax stared down into his lantern, his gaze distant as if he was gazing beyond the flame within.
"...Shepherd. I cannot make such a promise. Not while we have yet to face our final battle with the evil of this land." That same sick feeling hit the bottom of his stomach like a jagged stone, his whole body struggling and shaking under its weight,
“Hey now-”
“This land must be healed, the corruption driven from it. And… I will do whatever it takes to accomplish that.” Shepherd knew that tone, that look. He knew what it might take of him to do such a thing and just what he was willing to give up to do so. Grabbing him by the shoulders, his voice threatened to break,
"Listen to me, you’re comin’ back. We’re all makin’ it out of this Gods forsaken place. Even if I have to carry all of you back, broken and bloodied. I am Gherix’s Shepherd after all, yea? So don’t do anythin’ foolish, cause I ain’t leavin’ you behind. I… can’t.” Biting into his lip, he swallowed back the hard lump in his throat. Sarnax pulled away from him and for a moment, cold seeped into him, down to his core. But scaled hands laid themselves in his, gripping tightly. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed back. He meant every word and by the fire of Gherix, he swore that he would never let go. Shepherd forced himself to meet his gaze. There was a gentle warmth to Sarnax’s eyes, a warmth that eveloped him wholly. His voice was no more than a mere whisper,
“Thank you Shepherd…”