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As a boy, Gale was obsessed with stories of heroes on epic quests. Such a life had seemed so grand: vanquishing evil at every turn, each morning a new horizon.
Now, as he steps in sheep dung for the second time today, he reconsiders his youthful fantasy. Whilst their little "parasite party" (Karlach’s term) has made good progress through the mountain pass, and they did vanquish some evil (goblins, mostly) their life is far from glamorous. For one thing, there is so much walking. They’ve been on the road since dawn, and it’s starting to get dark.
When Wyll finally declares they should stop and make camp for the night, he could almost cry with relief. Shadowheart takes pity on him and spares a Healing Word for his aching knees, but it does little for his fatigue.
No one feels like cooking in the dark, so they eat their supplies cold and then begin the usual routine of putting up tents and unpacking their meagre belongings.
After weeks of travelling together, they have an unspoken arrangement: Astarion’s tent at the edge of camp, Wyll next to Halsin, and Shadowheart and Lae’zel as far apart as possible. Gale prefers a spot near the fire so he can watch the cook pot, and Karlach always stations her tent next to his.
He watches fondly as she sets out her bedroll, humming to herself. He remembers that first, awkward night at the Emerald Grove when he was too proud to ask for help putting his tent up. Karlach had seen through his bluster and shown him how it was done, chattering the whole time and making him feel welcome. These days, Gale can conjure a Mage Hand and put up a tent in the dark, but they stay close all the same.
Karlach wants to know everything about the world. Gale hasn’t spoken to anyone but Tara in a year. Naturally, they talk a lot. It drives the others mad.
Karlach stops humming. She’s frowning as she rummages through her pack, then turns it upside-down and sifts through the contents. She checks under her bedroll, under her pillow, pats down her pockets. The fire in her chest pulses red. ‘Oh no. Oh nooo!’
‘Karlach? What’s happened?’ Gale hurries over. Gods, if something has happened to her heart...
‘It’s Clive! I can’t find Clive!’ Her search grows more frantic, but whatever she’s looking for, it isn’t there.
‘Clive...?’ Gale searches his memory. Have they adopted yet another wayward animal? A cat would be nice.
She sniffs. ‘He’s my bear.’
‘Bear?’ Gale yelps. ‘Karlach, we can’t keep–’
‘My teddy bear.’ She straightens up, hugging herself, taking deep breaths until her fire quietens. ‘Probably the only fireproof teddy bear in existence. Damn it.’
Not a real bear, then. Gale relaxes a little, but Karlach’s distress concerns him. He has seen that bear around camp: a tattered old thing, regarding them all with button-eyed disdain. He hasn’t seen it today.
‘I really liked that little guy.’ She sits down on her bedroll, still hugging herself. A tear escapes her eye. It evaporates before it can roll down her cheek. ‘Never mind. Suppose we’ve got bigger things to worry about.’
If this adventure has taught Gale anything, it’s that little things can hold great value. He’s seen Karlach’s face light up at a pretty sunset, a bowl of soup, an echo in a cave. Life is big at the moment. The small things get you through. Karlach deserves the world, and yet the one thing she can touch is now lost.
Well, that simply won’t do.
Gale picks up his staff. ‘Do you recall where you left him?’
She shrugs. ‘Must have been our last camp. I overslept so I was rushing to get packed up.’
‘Excellent. We’d better go and rescue him, then.’
‘What?’ Her eyes widen. ‘Gale, we walked all day to get here. It’s hardly a minor detour. And it’s dark-’
‘How fortuitous that you befriended a wizard, then.’ He casts Dancing Lights and motions for her to follow. ‘Come on.’
They creep out of camp. He leads them to the top of a nearby hill, ignoring his aching knees. Selûne hangs full in the sky, bathing the wilderness in silver. Good. One can only Misty Step to a point they can see.
It takes more concentration to bring Karlach along, especially when he can’t touch her, but he is not Gale of Waterdeep for nothing. Soon, they’re skipping over hills and rivers, each step a mile. Karlach laughs in delight as the world flies past, and then he spies the campsite and lands them right beside it.
‘Wow, that was so fast!’ Karlach looks around in amazement. ‘Why didn’t you do this earlier? Could have saved your creaky knees.’
‘Alas, I can take but one person with me. With my powers as they are, I don’t have enough magic to transport seven of us plus a dog, an owlbear cub and all our luggage.’
‘Fair point.’
Gale Lights up the camp. They’d picked a grassy area dotted with wildflowers, overlooking a lake. Clive isn’t by the cold firepit, but there is a lot of white fluff littered about the place...
Gale casts Locate Object, and something glows at the far end of the clearing. Karlach runs off ahead of him, then falls to her knees. ‘Here’s Clive! Or, what’s left of him...’
The bear is in pieces. A leg here, an arm there… and his stuffing, Gale realises, is what’s strewn all over the camp.
‘Must have been a wolf or something. I did spill some broth on him the other day so maybe he smelled tasty. Gods...’
Together, they solemnly gather up the pieces. ‘Where did you get him in the first place?’ Gale asks.
‘Found him right after the Nautiloid crashed. Burning debris everywhere, and he was the only thing not on fire. No idea what he’s made of. It felt like destiny, somehow. A sign that things were gonna be alright.’
Once they’ve gathered up every scrap of Clive, Gale lays him out on a tree stump. It’s oddly macabre, a parody of some horrific sacrifice.
Karlach sighs. ‘Maybe I can sew him up again.’
‘No need. Allow me.’ With a grand flourish, Gale casts Mend. The wool knits back together, stitches reforming along the seams. Stuffing balls up into the round belly. The button eyes look out of the face once more. Clive is born again, with no necromancy required. Finally, a quick Presdigitation to remove the dirt. ‘See? Good as new.’
He holds Clive up to her. When Karlach carefully takes the bear, her proximity singes the hairs on the back of his hand. ‘He looks amazing!’ She studies Clive in delight, then hugs the bear tightly. Her tail flicks happily. ‘Gale! You’re amazing!’
At the height of his power, Gale could conjure mighty firestorms, speak to the dead, or become as incorporeal as a cloud of smoke. Yet he can’t remember feeling greater pride than at this moment, and using only simple spells. After devoting his life to pleasing Mystra, he can’t remember the last time he made someone happy.
‘I have my moments,’ he says modestly. Karlach is standing close to him, and he can feel the heat emanating from her. 'If Clive is important to you, then he's important to me.'
Her grin fades to a fond smile. 'You're important to me too.'
As they stand there in the clearing, swathed in cool night air and the soft light of Gale's magic, it occurs to him that there is a name for this unspoken thing welling within him. One that he isn't ready to speak aloud.
His Orb betrays him, pulsing with purple light. At the same moment, Karlach's heart flares yellow. They step apart, each with a hand on their chest.
Karlach chuckles. ‘We’re a right pair, aren’t we?’
‘That we are,’ he agrees softly.
When she reaches for him, his heart leaps, but then she snatches her hand back with a sigh. If only he could help with her other problem... but even his best Cone of Cold evaporates before it can touch her. ‘You wait til I get my engine fixed. I’m gonna give you the biggest hug.’
Gale imagines those strong arms wrapping around him, lifting him off the ground, squeezing until his ribs creak. ‘I look forward to it,' he says, his voice hoarse with longing.
Her fiery eyes are fixed on his as she kisses the top of the teddy bear’s head. Then with a smile, she holds the bear up to "kiss" Gale’s cheek. ‘Clive says thank you.’
The bear is warm from her touch. Gale smiles back. ‘Clive is most welcome.'
As they Misty Step back to camp, holding Clive between them, he murmurs a final incantation: a binding spell, so that if Clive is ever lost again, he will always reappear in Karlach's pack. A single thread of Weave, shaped by his words, now tied to her. He only wishes he could do more.
The dangers ahead of them loom large, but perhaps they don't need an army to defeat them. Perhaps, Gale dares to hope, the small things will win in the end.