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It was a night of revelry, and the Blade of Frontiers was hiding.
Not particularly well, nor in a way that would seem suspicious to anyone that happened to come upon him. No, there were many ways to technically attend a party without attending to most of the activities that made it so.
Any human in the city catching a glimpse would see a (tail-less) tiefling catching a quiet moment in between bouts of drink and dance. Any tiefling who wandered by… he still wasn't certain what they saw. Good reason to keep to himself. It was their night to celebrate; he'd not intrude on it.
He stood at the lakeshore, cup in hand, enjoying the brisk nip in the autumn night. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he frequently felt as though he were running hotter, these days. Not nearly as hot as Karlach, of course, but noticeably more so than before all this tadpole business.
He'd been in a similar position as this, not too long ago. The night she had come to punish him for not murdering an innocent woman. Balduran’s boots, just think: what if he’d actually done it? Without the tadpole to warn him, he’d have thought he was doing right. What other misdeeds might he have carried out in the past, then carried on none the wiser? It didn’t bear thinking about; he couldn’t very well amend them now. Nor could he refuse the call in the future. So long as his patron abided by the terms, he had little choice but to obey. (But not no choice. His last assignment had proven that painfully true.)
With an effort, Wyll pulled his thoughts away from the past. Regret was a luxury he could not afford. One step further into those waters, and he might very well drown.
Focus on the future, he reminded himself. What am I to do next? Unfortunately, that path wasn’t looking a good deal brighter. First and foremost, there was his father to find (if he was even missing; he’d not managed to confirm that either). The search would take him to the Underdark, a place that, in his experience, one ought not to venture into without a damn good reason. He had two, but that wouldn’t ease the journey in the slightest. There was simply no easy way to hunt down a group of drow raiders allied with a cult that itself made use of mind flayer technology. Just the thought of attempting it made his head ache. Rather a tall order for a lone warlock.
«Soldier.»
Agh, hells. He smiled sheepishly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”
“Course I noticed. It’s no party without you.” Karlach smiled. The heat rolling off her had diminished somewhat since her tune-up, Wyll noted; less ‘lava flow’ and more ‘nearby campfire’. Still not safe to touch, however. “How’s the new upgrade treating you?” he asked.
“Good,” she said, putting a hand over that glowing point. “Damn good. Feels less like I’m gonna burn up any second, thank the gods. Or, not them. Thank Dammon, he’s the one who did it. And how ‘bout you?” Karlach tilted her head, giving him a searching look. “You all right?”
A simple question, and a sincere one, Wyll was certain. Full honesty would be impolite, but the usual pleasantry would be a lie. He settled on the side of the former. “In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood, and didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night.”
“I know there’s a lot on your mind,” she said gently. “And, y’know, in it. But don’t stew in all that, alright? There are plenty of good folks here who’ll help take your mind off things, if you ask nice. Hells, I’ve singed one or two of ‘em by accident already, and they still keep coming up.”
“Right you are,” he admitted. “I don’t doubt they would be kind. But I also know that the sight of this,” he gestured at himself, “would unsettle them, whether or not they may admit to it.”
She snorted. “No one here is going to freak out at the sight of some horns. C’mon, mate, it’s a tiefling party. You’re never gonna fit in more somewhere than you do here.”
“I’m not becoming a tiefling, Karlach,” Wyll said softly. “You know that. They know it.” He glanced back at the camp. A few of the partygoers appeared to have drunk themselves into a more maudlin state, slumping tearfully into each other in the back of an open cart. “I would only remind them of their tormentors, and the home they lost because of them.”
“Or they’ll see the hero that saved ‘em,” Karlach said stubbornly. “You’re the best of all of us. Anyone who can’t see that needs to get their eyes checked.” She shrugged. “But hey, that’s okay. You’re not feeling it right now, I get that. Stay here as long as you like. Just promise me something.”
“What?”
“If you feel even the littlest, tiniest bit like you might be missing out… come have a drink, hey? I’ll try to save you something good.” She looked back at the revelry too. “No promises there, though. They really wanted a chance to celebrate.”
He smiled and thanked her. With an answering grin and salute, Karlach walked off. Since he was watching her go, he could see how quickly she was drawn into another circle, and coaxed to tell a story of some sort. And how close her listeners clung, despite her heat.
A short while later, a scent on the wind caught his attention. Sulphur? He would have chalked it up to his latest conversational companion – with all that Infernal machinery, she couldn’t help but smell of it, though he’d sooner grow a new set of horns than mention that fact to her again – but the breeze came from a different direction. Wyll froze, moving only his eyes. There, crouched in the grasses, was a figure he certainly hadn’t seen anywhere in the Hollow. Whoever that dwarf was, they also hadn’t received similar instruction to himself on blending in. It was a mercy no one else had noticed yet.
Speaking of noticing, the dwarf’s gaze slid over, meeting his. With merely a smirk and a finger to the lips, the figure vanished in a shower of sparks.
Hells, Wyll thought, eyeing his cup. Do I need more drink, or less?
That must have been a visitor from the Hells. Not one of Mizora’s, or they’d have introduced themself. She didn’t need to send anyone to keep tabs on him anyway; she had her own methods. Add that strange encounter to his list of ongoing worries. So that made the pact, the tadpole, his father, his transformation, and…
…and as usual, Karlach was right. Fretting alone by the water was entirely the wrong way to approach an evening such as this. Wyll turned on his heel and made his way into camp, rejoining the party.
Ah, the art of mingling. Rusty as they may be, those skills were still close to hand, and a neglected tool was better than no tool at all. Wyll brought a few out now: polite smiles for those who waved, a spoken greeting for those who called out (with their names included, if he remembered them. He was gratified to see how many had stuck in his mind).
Were they wary of him? There was some awkwardness, to be sure, but that may have been a lack of practice on his conversational partners’ part. As Karlach had said (and as he’d observed for himself in earlier interactions), they’d not had much occasion to celebrate. And they were far from out of the woods yet. The goblin threat might be neutralised, but that was merely one of a thousand dangers that still threatened.
Soon enough, he’d drifted to the densest knot of people. It turned out to be the group listening to Karlach recount her duel with the drow general. She caught his eye and smiled, before continuing with her story. “So she creeps up, and I think, ‘oh, she might actually have listened. Aces’. But you know what she does next?”
“Attack?” One of her listeners guessed.
“Bingo. With a poisoned blade, no less. Nasty work.” She sipped her drink. “But remember I said at the start how Tav gave us all potions? I had just the thing on hand. So I knock her back,” she mimed a heavy shove with an imaginary axe, drawing encouraging noises from her listeners, “and then I…”
How heroic she made it sound. She has a knack for storytelling, Wyll noted, with no small amount of admiration. She'd a knack for many things, truth be told.
There was a tug at his trouser leg. Wyll looked down, finding a familiar face. “You’re still wearing your disguise,” Umi said. “What for?”
“It’s permanent,” he informed him.
“Really?”
Wyll bent his head, offering a horn. “See for yourself.”
The child reached up a little hand, and touched it. Now, there was a sensation he’d yet to get used to: dull but noticeable, like someone touching just the top of one's fingernails. “Huh,” Umi said. “So you’re one of us now? Or what are you?”
“The term is ‘planetouched’.” Wyll looked over; Zevlor was watching the exchange with a wistful look in his eye. “It’s never been an easy path, I’m afraid to say. But there will always be those who understand.”
“How did it happen?” Gan asked.
“A devil told me to kill her,” he said, with a nod at Karlach, “and I wouldn’t do it. So the devil punished me.”
The assembled tieflings looked at Karlach incredulously, and she nodded. “That’s the long and short of it. Blood War drama. Appreciate you giving up the hunt, though, mate. ‘Specially seeing what it cost you.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he assured her.
“You really gonna talk about hearts around me?” She pouted. “Insensitive.”
“Ah, my apologies –”
“Mate, I’m joking! Relax.” She looked around. “Bex, is there any more of that Highsun? This man needs to shut his brain off.” The requested spirit was fetched, and Wyll provided with a fresh glass.
“It’s not a bad look, by the way.” The woman who’d filled his glass fidgeted with the bottle, looking away bashfully. “I mean, I'm sure you weren’t asking for horns, but… they’re quite nice ones.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” another tiefling replied. “Many an Elturian’s spent a fortune trying to get theirs growing quick and shaped how they like, and yours just popped in looking like that? Unfair, really.”
A few others concurred, making appreciative remarks. Some more appreciative than was probably appropriate, which did not help with his increased temperature. Karlach covered her mouth, giving him an amused look, but didn’t say anything.
“And the eye’s not bad either,” yet another Elturian mused. “A true red’s pretty rare, you know? Most people get yellow or orange.”
“Don’t Mephistos get blue, usually?”
“Yeah, I guess. My cousin said he knew someone who got purple, but my cousin’s also a filthy liar, so.”
The discussion moved on to common tiefling features, sparing him the need to reply. Wyll sipped from his glass, nodding vaguely along. Hmm. This really was quite good wine.
When he next tuned in, the words were unrecognisable. Had he had too much already? No, wait, they’d switched to Infernal. He couldn’t understand all of it, but it sounded like they were talking about the Descent. Karlach nodded sympathetically, chipping in with bits of her own experience in the Hells. Her expression was open, and she laughed as she told it, like it was funny in retrospect. But having seen enough of how she made conversation, Wyll was able to see the tension in her posture, the slight strain in her smile. Time to bring out another skill he’d learned while rubbing elbows with the lords: a graceful exit.
“Ah,” he said, knocking his forehead with his hand. “I’d forgotten why I approached in the first place. Karlach, Tav is looking for you.” They’re not, he added privately.
Got it. “Oh, I think I know what they want,” Karlach said (a passably good lie to Wyll’s ear). “Did anyone see where they went?”
“That building, I think?” one of the tieflings said, pointing.
“Thanks. ‘Scuse me, everyone.” Thanks for that. As she turned, Wyll caught a series of images of a forest clearing, and a message: meet me there in five?
Yet another party staple: sneaking away from the festivities with a friend. Perhaps he had missed this. I’ll be there.
He found her standing facing the other way, humming to herself and dancing back and forth on the tips of her toes. «Well met,» he offered in Infernal.
“Oh!” she turned. “Didn’t hear you coming. Here, sit, if you like.” She gestured at a mat she’d laid out. “There’s the drink, as promised. The tag said it was called ‘Baldur’s Grape’, heh.”
“Thank you,” he said, taking a seat and uncorking it. “I do hope that was alright, earlier. I got the feeling you wanted an out.”
“Yeah, good instinct. Talking about the Hells gets old real fast.” She started to sit down as well, somewhere off to his right. “On my other side, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Oh, right. Sure.” She switched sides, demurring at the offered glass. “None for me, thanks; I’ve had enough already. So, that stone eye really can’t see at all?”
Wyll confirmed. “It’s actually more like an ear.”
“How d’you mean?”
“It’s a Sending Stone, of sorts.” He rubbed that side – it was starting to itch a little – and explained, “Mizora can call on me without appearing in person, or I can call on her. It’s generally how she communicates between assignments.”
“Wicked,” she said. “So you’ve got two squatters in that head, while the rest of us only have one. Guess I ought to count my blessings.”
“I try not to think about it, most of the time.” The itch grew stronger, and Wyll realised what was about to happen. Speak of the devil, he thought wryly, just to himself. Then to Karlach, Don’t say anything aloud, for now. She’s listening.
…Through the stone, right now?
Because he was anticipating it, he heard it: the very faint, distant crackle that meant the line was active. Wyll nodded at Karlach. Right now.
She bit her lip. Should we, uh… cover that eye, or something?
Then it would be obvious that I know. Better that she simply think nothing much is happening at the moment. It was fortunate indeed that it had taken him so long to realise that it wasn’t just the feeling of the prosthetic settling. Had he discovered the truth in that first tempestuous year, or in the dark second, he might have let that knowledge slip.
They were both quiet for a moment, as was the clearing. Far away, the sounds of the party were faintly audible, but they were surrounded by the calm stirrings of the forest at night.
I’m sorry to trouble you with this, he said, hoping his mental tone was suitably apologetic. It’s an odd arrangement, to say the least.
The absolute least, she responded, raising one eyebrow. You're sure we're good, talking like this?
He nodded again. No matter how hard they strive to convince us otherwise, devils cannot read minds.
Thank the gods for that. They’ll twist any words of yours they can get their claws on. Yeah, I’m glad up here, she tapped her temple, is safe. Or I guess it was, before this taddy business.
That was another thought he’d not care to dwell on. Knowing that there was at least one other being that might be listening in, this very moment… well, at least it wasn’t his patron. If the guardian was eavesdropping now, it had the good sense not to make itself obvious. Somewhat like he was doing to Mizora, now that he thought of it. Rather than address any of that… Do you mind it? he asked Karlach. Speaking this way.
With you? Nah. She smiled. Weird to think that somebody else might hear it, but that’s true of talking too, y’know?
Fair point.
They both went quiet again, waiting it out. Surreptitiously, Wyll studied the tiefling next to him. Generally, she wasn’t known to hold still for long. Even as she sat mostly unmoving, her tail flicked this way and that, like that of a cat looking for something to pounce on. Mizora hadn’t ‘gifted’ him one of those (yet), but it might be worth inquiring… Could I ask you about that? he said, indicating it.
Oh, my– yeah, what about it?
What does it feel like? To have one.
She frowned at it, looking pensive. Uh, I dunno? I’ve never not had one, so… hard to say. It’s just another part of you, like another limb. I can move it how I want, or it just does its own thing. Wish it was clever enough to hold on to things, but no dice.
Does it get in your way? Or did it, in the city? He let his wandering thoughts show: chairs with solid backs, heavy doors that shut quickly. Then, since they were on the topic: hats made for skulls smoothly rounded, narrow-necked garments meant to be pulled over the head, and a myriad of other inconveniences. It occurs to me, he said, as more and more of these potential issues presented themselves, how many places were not made with you in mind.
Karlach shrugged easily. Well, you’ve met enough tiefs by now to see. We take what we’re given, and we make do. She pivoted, looking back towards the party. Can I admit something to you? It’s a little bit awful.
Go on.
Promise you won’t judge me.
I promise.
I don’t… she paused, rubbing one arm uncomfortably. I don’t always like talking so much Infernal. And I know! It’s not just the devils’ language, its ours too, me and all those tiefs. I don’t want to tell them not to use it, they’re gonna hear that way too much when they get to the city. I just… she sighed. Makes me feel like I’m still in the Hells. Like I never actually got out, and I’ve been imagining everything since. She grimaced. Sounds totally cracked, but there it is.
Wyll reached up and touched his stone eye. It was well past the window, but he wanted to be damn sure the connection was closed before speaking. Yes, still and silent. “I don’t think that’s mad at all,” he said aloud. “And you’re far from the only one who’s struggled to come to terms with our current situation.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. It just never seemed to bother you much.” She smiled his way. “Is it true you went straight to the grove and started helping them out? That’s what the others said.”
“Ah – yes.” He ducked his head. “I happened to stumble upon it, and some of the refugees had heard of me. They asked if I could help train them to better fend for themselves on the road. So I stayed, until the others arrived and invited me to accompany them.”
She chuckled. “But weren’t you worried about the taddy at all?”
“I wasn’t familiar with the concept of ceremorphosis. I had planned to ask the druids to remove it, but things were tense between the circle and the refugees, and then – well, you know the rest.” Wyll sipped his wine. “Truthfully, I think I adjusted more quickly because for me, it didn’t change all that much. I wasn’t a vampire who suddenly found himself able to withstand sunlight, nor a githyanki claimed by my people’s greatest enemy. I was not,” he gestured her way, “a drafted tiefling who saw a chance to escape the war. I was simply a man with a pact, and I remain so.” He took another sip, then amended, “I suppose I’m also a man with horns now. But that’s unrelated to the tadpole.”
“With really nice horns,” Karlach corrected. “And a real pretty eye. The ear points aren’t bad either–”
Wyll covered his face, which had gone extra hot all of a sudden. “Karlach.”
“Ah, I’m doing it too now. Sorry.” There was a beat of embarrassed silence before she added, “But hey, at least we know you were wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“The other tiefs weren’t just being polite. I don’t think they’d have said all that if they didn’t mean it. And, y’know… they weren’t off-base there.” He thought he felt the heat off her skin tick up just a notch. “I know you wouldn’t have picked that look yourself, but it’s a damn good look. I mean, not that you didn’t look good before. But now… damn, soldier, I mean, you…” She stopped. “Sorry, sorry. Can’t help it.”
Wyll hesitated, considering his words carefully. This was as good a time as any to address something that had been going unspoken between them for too long. He’d noticed; how could he not, when that blasted machinery kicked into overdrive each time he drew near? It wouldn’t have been proper to raise the topic before she did, of course, but here was the opportunity now.
“You truly are a wonder, Karlach,” he said gently. “Fierce and fiery as a dragon, and with a soft side the Hells could never take from you. Every day we adventure together is a gift, and I’m grateful to whatever force decreed we need not be enemies, despite all that sought to make us so.” She smiled at that, an entirely different smile than he’d yet seen, and it caused such an ache in his chest that he could hardly bring himself to say the rest. But he must. “It pains me to have to disappoint you. But…”
“Whoa, hey!” She waved her hands, stopping his further regrets from being articulated. “It’s okay, mate. You don’t have to say all that. I get it, I do.” She smiled again, her polite-partygoer smile. “And I didn’t mean to put any pressure on, asking you out here.”
He still hadn’t explained. “Please understand, this isn’t about my own interest. Nor is it any fault of yours. It’s –”
“Fine,” she cut him off, repeating, “Really, it’s fine. No excuses needed! You can do as you like. Just ‘cause we’re in the same party, and just ‘cause we mind-melded and all, don’t think that I’m gonna be jealous, or anything. You’re still a free agent.”
“That’s just it.” He gestured at the stone eye with a wry look. “I am not.”
That brought her up short. She’d half-risen, perhaps to head back to the party, but now she froze. “Wait, you’re saying no because of the pact?”
“I’m saying ‘not yet’,” he amended. “But yes, because of the pact.”
“Oh. Oh…” She sat back down, criss-crossing her legs. “I don’t really give a toss that you’ve got a pact, to be honest. I mean, I know it sucks for you, but how I see it, it doesn’t change anything for us.”
“But it does.” He swallowed, gazing into his glass. All of a sudden, the delightfully tart wine had soured on his tongue. “Mizora is… jealous, at the best of times, and times are not their best. And you heard her the last time she appeared; Zariel is still angry. What if she orders you gone again? I can’t be punished for that same offence twice, but what’s to stop her from sending any of her other ‘clients’ after you? Or, hells, not even that. You know devils, Karlach. She wouldn’t have to slay either of us to make our lives hell again. While I’m under contract, she can more or less do as she likes with me. I won’t have you made a pawn in any more of her games.”
“Don’t care what she thinks, or what she does,” Karlach said, a stubborn set to her jaw. “I’m not scared.”
“I am.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I am afraid,” he repeated, meeting her eyes. “I can scarce imagine what horrors you might be subjected to. I won’t allow it to happen. Not to someone I care about.”
Wyll stared at Karlach, and Karlach stared back at Wyll. A breeze stirred, rustling in the branches around the clearing, but all else was still.
Finally, he cleared his throat, and spoke plainly: “It’s not just for me to ask this of you, but I must. Please, can you give me some time?” She furrowed her brow, and he clarified, “To find a way out.”
“You’re gonna break it?” Her lowered eyebrows shot up. For all they’d spoken of it, it seemed she hadn’t considered the idea as something with a tangible timeline. “Can you actually do that?”
“I’m not certain,” Wyll admitted. “There wasn’t a natural end clause. But there must be a way to escape it. I’ve wondered for years, but now… well, I suppose the tadpole did change things, after all. It feels like anything is possible.”
Karlach was smiling. Not the all-out grin she made at someone’s jokes, or the half-pleased one she’d managed while discussing the Hells with the Elturians. No, this was something else, something more like when he’d told her how grateful he was for her presence. “Love it when you talk like that,” she said softly.
“Like what?”
“All hopeful, like nothing’s gonna stop you. It’s that spark, y’know?”
“You’ve enough sparks for the both of us,” he joked.
“Yeah, but it’s nice to not have to give ‘em out all the time. Share the load, and all.” She leaned back on her hands. “All right, Mr. Blade of Frontiers. I’ll accept your terms. Never been a patient sort, I’ll warn you. But this thing is worth trying it out for.”
He thanked her. “There will be another time for us.”
“Time,” she sighed. “Dunno that any of us really have much to spare, right now. But if it’s going to pass anyway… guess there are worse ways to spend it.”
Just like that. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of admiration for the woman beside him. “You’re a marvel, Karlach, truly,” he said earnestly. “If only half the world had half the heart you do.”
“Maybe not that. We’d need a hell of a lot more Infernal Iron up here, to start.” She glanced his way. “That patron of yours can’t listen in any more tonight, can she?”
“She cannot.”
“Good. I want to play a game, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. What game?”
“‘What if’. She turned her head, looking out across the clearing. “So, pretend for a second I didn’t have this engine problem, and you didn’t have a mad devil running your life. Imagine we were just sitting out here, normal as you like.”
She paused, and he took the time to try to picture it. He could scarcely imagine such a thing, but he tried nonetheless. “Alright,” he said.
“Now pretend that I scooted up close, and put my head on your shoulder.” She tipped her head to the side, nowhere near making contact. “Okay, your turn.”
Wyll lifted his hand, a good distance from her head. “I suppose I would stroke your hair.”
“Mm. That’s nice.” She closed her eyes. “A little to the left.”
He mock-obliged. “Then what?”
“Hmm… maybe I’d put my hand in your other hand. Tail might try and wrap you too. Did I mention it’s got a mind of its own?”
“You might have.” His voice had gone soft, as if whispering into her ear. “I think, then, I might turn and kiss your cheek. And I’d thank you for all you’ve been to me thus far. And–” another thought occurred. “Would the horns bump together, this close? Do I still have horns in this scenario?”
“...you could?”
“You would prefer that I did, wouldn’t you?”
“...yeah.”
“Then I do. Hells, give me a tail as well, and I’ll endeavour to learn how to wield it.”
Karlach giggled, a wonderfully girlish sound. Her tail nearly wagged, and he glanced at it again, a new thought occurring. “If a tail is like a limb,” he ventured, “the tip is like a fingertip, is it not? As in, it’s an extremity?”
“Remind me what that means?”
“The parts furthest from the heart,” he clarified, “and generally, the coolest.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh. Oh! Okay, try it. I’ll try to stop from getting heated… sorry in advance, though.”
He reached out, one bare hand, and brushed the tip of her tail. It was quite hot. But not reflex-triggering hot, nor ‘immediate burns of some degree’. One quick touch left only a flash of heat that lingered on his skin, like the memory of a sunny day. He lifted his undamaged hand, showing her that and a reassuring smile. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s an honour.”
“I’ve socked a few blokes for trying it, in the past,” Karlach blurted. “But never if they asked first.” Immediately, she covered her face, curling up a bit. “Gods. Don’t know why I said that. Fuck. Sorry, haven’t had a good touch in a while.”
Wyll only laughed.
In his not-so-distant youth, Wyll Ravengard had attended many a party, get-together, ball and masquerade. Since his exile, he’d thought the finer city bashes a thing of the past. Since his transformation, he’d thought all larger social gatherings would be barred to him. That seemed less than wholly true, after tonight’s events. But even if it were, even if he never received another invitation in all his days… he would be more than satisfied.