Chapter Text
Shadowheart can’t say she’s not grateful for some company as she and the tall, darkly tanned druid made their way slowly along the river’s coastline. There were still smoldering ashes and debris floating in the air to watch out for, not to mention the disgusting brains crawling about the ruins. The wretched things had put up more of a fight than Shadowheart would have expected. She was glad Auben had been quick enough to suggest she set the nearby chemical vat on fire to harry them.
“No sign of our little friend, though,” Auben lamented as he put his quarterstaff to the ground and knelt to examine the newly dead cerebral organs. The golden-haired half-elf ran his right hand over his mouth and down his partially braided beard. “Must not have survived the crash.”
The Sharran cocked an eyebrow as the man rose to his feet again. “You miss the intellect devourer that thought we were thralls?”
Auben smiled blithely and shrugged. “Us came in handy during those fights.” He looked over at her and his dark brown eyes flared a bit in realization. “Ah, I forgot. You missed the first one.” The druid nodded to the dead brain he’d been examining. “Lae’zel and I ran into some imps before we found your pod. Us took one out in one hit.” He grinned and mimed a claw with his left hand. “Tough little thing.”
Shadowheart snorted. “He took one or two out at the helm, too. And got a hit in on the hell boar while you ran for the transponder.”
“A team player,” Auben joked.
“Yes, well,” Shadowheart turned around to look back down at the crates they’d been examining when Auben had heard the brains scuttling about, “forgive me if I don’t mourn the mind flayer’s pets.”
Auben chuckled under his breath. “You are forgiven.”
Shadowheart turned around to squint her eyes at him for the gentle mockery. The metal clasps of her braid clanked against her metal armor. Then she saw him withdraw a dagger from his right side and take it to the intellect devourer.
“What are you doing?” Shadowheart took a step back before she could stop herself.
Auben gave her an apologetic glance. “Disgusting, I know. But I’m taking the cerebellum.” He put his quarterstaff behind him and held the dagger to his left hand. Flames leapt to life in his palm and he moved the dagger through them with practiced ease. “If memory serves, they can be brewed into a potion to resist psychic attacks.” Auben turned the brain upside down to expose its underside. “If there are mind flayers running around, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Shadowheart wrinkled her nose and turned away as the druid brought the heated blade to the gray and pink creature. The sound of a knife splitting through flesh was not unfamiliar to her. She was well trained in the ways or torture and gore, but it had been to keep the subject alive long enough to obtain information. Surface wounds. Stabbing. Burning. Freezing. Soft voices. Healing. Repeat.
Even so, removing parts of a brain was beyond anything Mother had instructed her to do.
That she could remember, anyway.
When she heard movement, the cleric turned to see Auben inspecting the other three brains. She swallowed, feeling slightly green around the ears.
Then a cold voice whispered in her ear about fortitude, about weakness, and she forced herself to watch this time.
The tall man was quick about it, at least. He worked his blade efficiently. Auben put the cerebella in an alchemy pouch without ceremony and moved on. She tossed her head to shake off the ill feeling.
“Back to it, then?” he stood and dusted himself off before waving his right arm toward the bodies and barrels down the small path. “Supplies on the beach first. Then we get back to finding a healer and shelter.”
Shadowheart nodded, following Auben’s lead back through the sand. She felt the grit of it in her armor, itching and abrading where it caught and scraped against her under clothes and skin. It was getting into the line of her metal boots as well. It would take ages to clean it all out, assuming she even got the chance. Auben was likely suffering the same in his worn chain shirt.
Curious, the Sharran thought absently. A druid in metal armor.
Disappointingly, the crates yielded little but a few more pieces of food among rotten fish.
“Ugh,” Shadowheart groaned at the smell. It was hard to separate the fresh catch from the spoiled. “How quickly they turn foul.”
Auben hummed in agreement. “There really is no getting used to slime on fish. But we’ll make do with what we can.” The druid held up one of the better-looking options. Its scales reflected teal and silver in the sunlight.
Shadowheart made a soft noise in her throat. “We can’t be choosing beggars, I suppose.” The sight made her long for the Gate. Despite the vast void that was most of her memories, she could remember the smell and taste of the fish there. At some point there had been fresh and delicious grilled fish in her life.
She looked back at the bodies of the fishermen. “These men could have only just been hauling in the catch when we crashed. How long could we have been knocked out?” The thought made her more nervous. She was too skilled as a healer to be ignorant of the danger that came from remaining unconscious for too long.
The druid sighed a little ruefully. “A good question, since we don’t know how long we have before these,” he reached up to tap his temple with his right index and middle fingers, “get to work.”
Shadowheart scoffed and scrubbed her hands over her eyes and down her face. She took a moment to look around again. “Suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. Pointless to waste time speculating when we should be moving.” The cleric went to turn away and inspect the next barrel. After a few seconds, she realized Auben wasn’t following. She turned back and stopped abruptly.
Auben was taking out some of the turned fish and putting them into a separate food sack. “What are you doing?” The Sharran asked in disgust for the second time.
Auben looked up briefly and gave her a commiserating grin. Her pale green eyes dropped to his mouth and the scar over the right side of his lips that was pulled to the right as he quirked them. “Smelly, I know, but if we get enough of the spoiling food together, I can purify it all when we make camp.” He rose and twisted the sack to close it again. “It’ll clear away the rotten bits and leave the good stuff behind.” Auben put his left hand over his stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to be starving for a bite soon. Can’t afford to waste anything we find.”
Shadowheart grimaced. She’d forgot about that old spell. It was a relatively simple one, now that she thought about it, but she couldn’t remember, ha, when she’d ever had to use it. “Fair enough,” Shadowheart nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty of rotten food for you to try your hand at.” She smirked. “Just take care to stand downwind of me, will you?”
Auben tossed back his head and laugh. It made the sunlight shine more fully through his flaxen hair. “As you like,” he chuckled, moving with care to the next set of crates alongside her.
They were nearly as disappointing as the last, were it not for the gold she found stuffed into a few pouches.
“That’s something if we can find a trader,” she said, a little less sullen.
“There must be some settlement nearby,” Auben muttered as he pried open another lid. “These men traded with someone.”
Shadowheart nodded absently. She took up one of the cleaner rags they’d found and dabbed at the sweat lining her brow.
“Oh ho!” Auben exclaimed quietly.
She looked around at him in surprise, only to see him holding a worn, floppy looking black hat with a wide brim. He beamed up at her. “Here’s a good find.”
Shadowheart’s gaze flicked from his brown one to the hat. “A,” she drew out the word, “hat?”
Auben nodded cheerfully. “Would you like it?”
Shadowheart blinked at him. The druid was holding the floppy hat out to her. “Why,” she started slowly, “would I?”
Auben cocked his head, but withdrew the hat slightly. “It’s summer, and the sun is still quite high.” He nodded his head perfunctorily toward the sky. “You’ve a paler complexion than me.” His dark eyes landed on her face again. “The hat will help prevent sunburn.” He grinned a little. “Your cheeks are already a bit pink. I'll just tan more for now.”
Shadowheart drew back from the old cover. “Thank you, but I’m fine,” she replied only a little snidely. Who knew who'd worn that thing, or where it had been? “Please help yourself.
Auben frowned, looking a little crestfallen, but then rallied and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then, apropos of nothing, he spun the hat around jauntily in his two hands so the front faced Shadowheart. He whipped it up onto his head with an unnecessary flourish and took a few seconds to position it. His hair fit under it a little snuggly given his small chrysalis bun at the back of his head.
It didn’t flatter him at all. She determined that Auben didn’t have a head for hats.
He smiled at her from beneath the brim all the same, his eyes now shaded from the sun.
“Oh gods,” Shadowheart muttered. She fought an unwilling, tolerant smile, though one managed to slip free as she spoke. “You’re going to be a ridiculous sort of person, aren’t you?”
Auben only grinned sunnily at her before continuing on his way.
He gave the hat to Astarion an hour later, insisting the nearly white-faced man take it for protection. The other Baldurian whined and protested about the state of his hair, but came around once his unusual eyes were protected from the sun’s rays.
Auben proved himself once again useful when he convinced a group of temple raiders to clear off, abandoning a good deal of their supplies in the process. Shadowheart appreciated his quick cunning.
And his silliness aside, Shadowheart truly could not help but be grateful when Auben and the wizard Gale prepared their dinner for that evening. Making use of the temple furniture, the druid laid out every piece of rotten food he’d found along the way. It filled a good part of the table and reeked to the high heavens, sending Astarion fleeing from the room with a gag.
But then the other half-elf cast his spell, waving his hands over the food with green and golden light, and Shadowheart watched as the rot was wiped away like dust.
Pink fish meat gleamed alongside tiny exposed bones beneath newly polished scales. Orange sticks were revealed in the skinny remains of carrots. Tomatoes regain some luster with rot carved from juicy new crevices. The insides of the apples were white and pure, if a little bruised, with pieces of moldy red skin scored away.
“Oh, I say,” Gale said appreciatively, “that is quite the handy trick. We’ve enough food to last us several days now. We could even cook up some stock tonight to have ready for breakfast tomorrow.” The wizard beamed. “Give us a fresh start with full stomachs.”
Auben clapped the wizard heartily on the back. The smaller man pitched forward a bit. “Let me know what to do to help.” Then he grinned over at Shadowheart. “Looks like we cobbled together some options after all! Who says we can’t be choosy beggars?”
She huffed a laugh without meaning to. Perhaps her first impression on the ship had been right, and there was something worthwhile beneath all that ridiculousness.