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The moon drifted lazily overhead as the party wound down their evening. Gale had worked wonders with their limited provisions, proving himself to be a surprisingly competent cook. This was a relief. As the party was looking at more than a few meals together on this journey, it was comforting to know that their sustenance would taste decent.
Helena had sprawled out on a nice, flat rock overlooking the camp, her leg hanging over the edge as she looked up at the stars and the swollen moon. The sight of the silver celestial body brought back memories. Her first pilgrimage from her childhood home in the Underdark to the surface. How her heart pounded in her chest as she took her turn in her first Circle of Song. The cool, dewy grass between her toes as she tilted her head to the skies and cried in melodious adoration of Eilistraee. She found herself pulling the lute she’d received from the tiefling bard Alfira out of her pack and plucking at it absently. The melody wove itself into something familiar to her and she began to sing softly.
Praise be to the moon,
To shed its light upon the dark,
To reveal the hope within our hearts,
To promise sweet reunion soon.
Praise be to the stars,
To lead the way to justice true,
To shield us from the endless void,
To be the balm that heals our scars.
Praise be to my blade,
To dance in my ally’s name,
To push earth’s evils to heel,
To serve as innocents’ aid.
Dark Maiden, hear my song,
That I may follow in your grace,
That I may know your divine love,
That I may come home when night grows long.
As she finished her song, her fingers tickled the strings of the lute in an improvised interlude. She closed her eyes, feeling the moonlight soaking through her skin. She filled her lungs with the cool night air and reached out to her goddess, if only to feel something familiar, something loving, after all she’d been through recently. Images of the nautiloid crash still haunted her dreams when she slept. The previous night, she’d woken up from the sensation that she was falling, only to find that her limbs were merely flailing within her bedroll. But in this moment, as she praised Eilistraee through song, she felt that she was finally firmly planted on the ground again.
There was a gentle stirring near her and she quickly halted her fingers upon the lute, her eyes snapping open as she propped herself up on her elbows to see the source of the sound. As she made eye contact with Gale, who was standing at the foot of her rocky perch, he smiled a little awkwardly and offered polite applause.
“Ah, I did not mean to disturb you,” he said. “I only wanted to hear your playing a bit better. You’re a woman of many talents.”
“I only hope my music brings joy to Eilistraee,” Helena murmured while turning her face back to the sky.
“Right,” Gale nodded. “Of course. Then, I suppose I’ve managed to interrupt your religious meditations. My apologies.”
Helena chuckled and fully sat up, tucking her knees to her chest.
“No need to apologize,” she smiled. “It wasn’t anything particularly formal.” She patted the stone in invitation. “Please. Join me.”
Gale cleared his throat before climbing up beside her and sitting down. He supported his weight on his hands, which were stretched out behind him. His face glowed in the moonlight as he turned his gaze upward to the heavens, the stars lending their twinkle to his dark eyes. Helena felt a surge of warmth beneath her skin and diverted her attention back to the lute in her hands, plucking the first few notes of a meandering melody.
“I’ll admit,” Gale said after a moment, “my knowledge on the Church of Eilistraee is not as expansive as it perhaps should be. What drew you to worship her?”
Helena’s fingers danced across the frets on the neck of the lute as she played a series of lively notes.
“My mother was a cleric in the Church,” she responded. “I followed in her footsteps.” A smile flickered across her face as she drew a more languid tune from her instrument. “Though, she would be greatly unsatisfied with my current state. She had her ambitions for me.”
“I should think any mother would be brimming with pride at having such an accomplished daughter.” Gale raised an eyebrow. “Especially one so adept on the battlefield, wielding both sword and spell.”
Helena chuckled, the notes from the lute harmonizing with her laugh.
“Oh, Mother would hate that I’ve seemed to find myself on some grand adventure, even though she was the one who trained me in the art of battle. She had, shall I say, safer designs in mind for my future. She wished me to become a high priestess of Eilistraee’s order, sheltered in a temple where I could serve the Dark Maiden without threat of violence.”
“Ah,” Gale nodded. “I suppose it is only reasonable for a mother to wish safety for her child. But I’m sure she will find some enjoyment in your stories once we get these parasites out of our heads and return home.”
Helena stopped plucking at the lute, silence filling the space between them.
“I’m afraid my mother passed some time ago,” she said softly.
“Oh.” Gale was silent for a while. “I’m…I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“She would have been proud of her death.” Helena swiped a single tear from her cheek. “There was a slaver who was trying to make off with a child. Mother wouldn’t have it, of course. She killed him and saved the child, but the bastard had coated his weapon in poison and she succumbed to her injuries shortly thereafter.” Helena took a deep, shuddering breath. “She protected an innocent and culled a threat. I know the Dark Maiden looked upon her faithful servant with love and welcomed her home when she passed.” She offered a watery smile to the moon. “Her Living Sword.”
“Living Sword?” Gale’s voice was quiet, as if speaking too loudly would cause her to break. Helena turned her head to look at him and his eyes held both the warmth of empathy and the spark of curiosity. She subdued the tears that had clung to her eyes, forcing them back from whence they came.
“Her chosen name,” she explained. “Clerics of Eilistraee will sometimes take on personal titles that are representative of them during their Evensong.”
“What is an Evensong?” Gale asked, his facial expression growing even more curious. It brought a smile to Helena’s lips and she began softly plucking her lute once more, a gently joyful melody.
“Every night, followers of Eilistraee will perform the Evensong ritual. Through song and dance, we share our experiences and the reflections we’ve had during the day with the Dark Maiden.”
“I see.” Gale cupped his chin in his hand. “Do you have a chosen name? For your Evensong?”
Helena’s smile deepened on her face and she ducked her head to look down at her instrument.
“Storm Song.”
She hazarded a sideways glance at Gale and saw he was still staring at her, absolutely captivated. He smiled and she thought she might burst into flame.
“Quite a beautiful and powerful epithet. It suits you.”
Helena’s stomach dropped, causing her to miss a note in a triplet that she was playing. But she quickly caught back up.
“Thank you.”
Another pause. But her song replaced the previous silence. Gale cleared his throat and grunted a little as he stood to his feet.
“Well!” he announced. “I shan’t keep you from your Evensong, then.” He gave a sweeping bow, causing Helena to chuckle. “Thank you for sharing your lovely music with me this evening.”
“Any time,” Helena smiled. As Gale hopped down from the rock and retreated back to his tent, she gazed back up at the stars. She felt a stirring in her heart and she began to hum. “That I may know your divine love, That I may come home when night grows long.”
+++
She scowled as she wiped the blood from her rapier. The room in the overgrown ruins was littered with the bodies of the bandits that had attacked her and her companions when they’d entered. The wrathful barbarian had proven especially difficult to dispatch, but they’d managed. Helena sidled up beside Astarion who was nursing a rather painful wound that had been inflicted by a crossbow bolt.
“Bit of advice for next time,” she quipped. “Don’t stand directly in the doorway when we’re all trying to rush in. You make a better door than you do a window.”
“Very funny,” Astarion hissed through the pain. “I didn’t know drow had such…charming senses of humor.”
“You think I’m charming?” Helena smirked as she rested her hand on Astarion’s chest. She whispered an incantation and blue light glowed around her fingertips as arcane energy flowed into his wound, stitching it back together. “How sweet.” Astarion rolled his eyes and stalked away from her, becoming suddenly very interested in the state of his short bow. Helena turned her attention to the rest of the party. “Does anyone else need any healing?”
“I do not need your healing magic, istik,” Lae’zel said curtly from the stone bench where she’d taken a seat. “I need but a moment to catch my breath.”
“Very well,” Helena shrugged. “Gale, how are you faring?” There came no response. “Gale?” Helena glanced around the room but saw no sign of the wizard. She cleared her throat and projected her voice. “Gale!”
“Oh, for heavens’ sake, don’t shout,” Astarion groaned. “He’s in there.” He gestured to a door that led to an adjacent room.
Helena approached the door and peeked inside. The walls were lined with stone bookcases filled with tomes and scrolls, most either covered in ancient dust or crumbling with age. Gale was already at the far end of the room, his hands clasped around a book bound in cracked leather. His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned the pages.
“Gale,” Helena repeated once more. He started, shaken from his concentration on the text in front of him. She held up a hand, her fingertips glowing blue. “Healing?”
“Oh! No. I’m quite alright. Thank you,” he said with a smile. Helena nodded and dispelled the magic with a flick of her wrist. “My apologies. I was rather distracted by this very intriguing library. There are some fascinating texts on various deities and their worshipers.”
“Such as?” Helena fully entered the room and began glancing up and down the shelves. Some of the books had recent fingerprint marks in their centuries of dust, clearly Gale’s doing. She squinted to make out the titles on the covers, but there were a few that were in an ancient tongue she didn’t recognize.
“Well…” Gale’s voice had raised in pitch slightly. “You know. Bit of pre-Second Sundering lore here, bit of death cults there.” He cleared his throat. “Erm, this book happens to have quite a bit of information about…Eilistraee and her church’s history.”
Helena turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.
“Oh?” She began to walk towards him, taking a closer look at the book he held in his hands. The edges of the pages were silver-gilt and seemed to radiate a divine light even in the dimness of the room. She leaned in closer to get a look at the writing itself.
“Indeed,” Gale said. He cleared his throat again. Was it that dusty in this room? “I’d quite forgotten that Eilistraee is a great ally of Mystra, mother of all magic.” He straightened his posture, going a bit rigid. “Perhaps that is why we get along so well.”
Helena placed her fingertips against the pages. Her finger traced beneath the inked text before accidentally grazing Gale’s thumb. His skin was soft and warm. She quickly jerked her hand away from the book and tucked it behind her back, as if Gale might forget the unintentional contact if he couldn’t see her hand anymore. Her gaze flicked upwards to Gale’s face only to find his eyes staring deeply into hers. Gale’s eyebrows shot upwards and he turned his attention back to the book, clearing his throat aggressively.
“I think,” he pondered after a moment, “I think I shall take this with me. I don’t suppose there are any living souls here that should miss it. And it is a shame for a good book to go to waste.”
“Have at it,” Helena said with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm. “Perhaps I’ll borrow it from you some evening when I wish to be reminded of the Dark Maiden’s history.”
Gale’s eyes shined in the dark, like the gilt pages of his new tome.
“It would be my pleasure to lend it to you.”
“Gods, are you still talking in there?” Astarion’s voice rang out. “There are some traps the next room over. I’m going to disarm them. Do not enter until I say so. I don’t want your blood on my clothes.”
“I do not take orders from you, elf,” Lae’zel retorted. “I shall go where I please.”
“Fine,” Astarion spat back. “Don’t listen to me, then. I’m sure your big sword will protect you from flames perfectly well.”
Gale chuckled, tucking the book into his pack.
“We’d better return to our companions. It sounds like they are in dire need of your presence to refrain from tearing each other apart.” Helena nodded, her chest fluttering wildly. As they approached the door to the library, Gale stood aside and made a sweeping motion towards her. “Ladies first.”