Hand In Hand
Chapter 4: You’re Gorion’s Daughter
Chapter Text
The four returned to Nashkel bruised and battered, but otherwise alive. And carrying more intel than any of the Amnian guard had been able to acquire.
“Gallium…” Berrun said quietly, looking at the vial Aryana had procured. “Eats away at steel. Devious trick from a devious alchemist.”
“I know,” Aryana said. “Unfortunately all I know is what it is. The monks never taught about countering it.”
Berrun’s gaze turned up to Aryana, a gentle, understanding expression on his face. “You’ve given us more than what we had before you arrived, Aryana. That’s not something to dismiss. Now that we know what the problem is, we are that much closer to finding a solution. I will speak with the smithies and alchemists we have and spread the word of this nefarious practice these fiends are caught up in.”
Aryana nodded and pulled out the scrolls as well. “There’s more. We found the priest’s documents. They included letters from someone named Tranzig, and they detailed that this organization has a contact in Beregost as well.”
A wistful sigh escaped the mayor’s lips. “That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. Iron makes have been going bad all over the coast. This goes deeper than any of us have feared.” He took another breath to keep himself calm. “I cannot ask you to do any more than you have, Aryana. But if you are committed to helping the people through this crisis, then Beregost would benefit from your services.”
Aryana nodded. “I’ll do what I can, Mayor Ghastkill. I will need a night to rest first, Mulahey got a nasty hit when my back was turned.”
“That’s perfectly alright,” Berrun said with a laugh. “You’ve done Nashkel an invaluable service already, Aryana. You owe us no explanations. I’m sure our local innkeeper will be happy to give you a night to rest free of charge.”
Imoen leaned over to Jaheira, whispering ever so carefully in her angular ear, “We’re still getting paid, right? I’m down to my last ration.”
Berrun Ghastkill reached into his cloak and pulled out another scroll. “Here,” he said. “Take this note to the temple and they will provide your payment.”
Aryana accepted the scroll. “Thank you, you’re very kind, Mayor Ghastkill.”
“Of course,” Berrun smiled. “You’ve done a great thing for us all today. May the Gods smile on your future endeavors.”
“Farewell,” Aryana said, inclining her head before turning to her company. “Come. Let’s head to the temple and then get ourselves a hot meal for a change.”
The two of them stepped out of the Town Hall, heads held high and spirits slightly higher. Even if Aryana’s back was still a little sore and her to-do list now longer than she was expecting. They collected their payment from the priests. Nine hundred gold pieces, and an extra four hundred for their diligent work. Then with smiles on their faces they headed right for Nashkel’s inn.
However, the moment they stepped inside, a woman at the bar got up and made a beeline straight for them.
“Just fancy my luck seeing you stroll in here, bold as day! I expected a hunt and a chase from the description,” she said with a chuckle.
Aryana frowned. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
A grin that could only be described as manic grew on the woman’s face as she reached into her cloak and pulled out a sheet of parchment, holding its unfurled contents out for Aryana to see. “This looks like you, doesn’t it?” she asked rhetorically.
As if Aryana’s stomach could sink any lower. There on that sheet of paper was an almost impressive illustration of herself with the words ‘Wanted’ in bold red lettering.
And an exceedingly generous bounty. She almost felt flattered. As it was, she had just enough wit in her to look this stranger dead in the eye and say, “No, it doesn’t. You might need new eyes.”
‘Kill her.’
“Cute,” the woman sneered. “Well you-”
Whatever Aryana was she would never know, as she quickly drew her longsword and plunged it straight into the woman’s stomach just beneath her armor.
The woman gasped, the ugly snarl wiped clean from her face in place of wide eyed shock. Their gazes locked, an eerie calm clashing with a surmounting fear. The bounty hunter tried to say something, only for pooled blood to pour from her lips instead of words. Her legs wobbled hard, unable to support her own weight. As Aryana drew her sword back, she had no choice but to collapse onto the floor.
The entire Inn fell dead silent.
Aryana looked down at the corpse of the would-be assassin and felt a strange feeling of elation. She felt powerful . The feeling vanished as quickly as it came and she tore her eyes away from it. “C’mon, let’s just… find a room…”
The company looked at her with muted surprise. And… something else. She couldn’t quite place it. Worry? Fear maybe? She wasn’t sure. Her entire body ached too much to try and gauge nuanced expressions. Nonetheless, they didn’t offer any argument.
“Yeah,” Imoen nodded, her voice sounding uncomfortably small. “I guess we could all use some rest first.”
The innkeeper gave them a room without much complaint. Showing him the bounty letter made it clear she was targeted by assassins. They paid for two rooms. One for Jaheira and Khalid, one for Aryana and Imoen. They didn’t even bother trying to get two beds this time. After a quiet meal of stew and bread, they retired to their rooms.
Aryana sat down on the edge of the bed and stared out the window at the muddy street of Nashkel. What was that rush she got looking at the assassin’s body? Was she just frustrated at the pain she was in and needed some catharsis? Was she still angry at being played for a fool in the mines and satisfied that another villain didn’t get the chance to hurt her?
Was she envisioning that person as Gorion’s killer and delighting at the promise of her revenge?
“Hey,” a soft voice pulled Aryana from her macabre introspection, her gaze turning to see Imoen leaning over to look at her. “You okay?”
“No…” Aryana said, sitting back against the headboard. “No I’m not.”
Imoen crawled after her, sitting to Aryana’s left. “It’s not just your back bothering you, is it?”
Aryana shook her head. “...I can tell you anything, right? You wouldn’t think less of me?”
“Of course, Ary,” Imoen said softly, her fingers settling over Aryana’s hand before squeezing. “You can trust me with anything. Promise.”
Aryana held Imoen’s hand and leaned against her. “...Killing that assassin was… exhilarating.”
“Oh?” Imoen asked, doing her damndest not to wince or stiffen at Aryana’s words. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know,” Aryana whispered, nuzzling Imoen’s hair. “It was like death was… pretty.” She winced and pulled her hand from Imoen’s, covering her face. “Why would I think that?!”
Conflict stormed in Imoen’s mind like nothing else. A part of her didn’t feel like now was the right time to tell her. That telling Aryana a truth that she couldn’t take back while she was this distressed would only make things worse.
But… keeping it hidden this long was already eating at her. She wasn’t Gorion. She couldn’t keep secret after secret from Aryana. And the longer she didn’t know, the more it would hurt when she found out. She couldn’t let that happen.
“...I think I know,” she said quietly, reaching into her own pocket.
Aryana lifted her head. “What?”
“Now don’t be mad,” Imoen said, pulling out a tightly wrapped scroll. “I snuck into Gorion’s room and read this before you left. Took it with me. I was waiting for everything to settle down before I said anything, and well… here…” she held the scroll out to her. “I wasn’t trying to keep this from you, I was just… worried about you.”
Aryana took the scroll and looked down at it. It was Gorion’s alright. Had his seal. Broken. Likely from Imoen. “...Alright, Immy. I believe you,” she said as she unfurled the scroll.
Hello, Ary.
If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death. I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would. There are things I must tell you in this letter that I might have told you before. However, if my death came too soon, then I would have never been given the chance. First off, I am not your biological father, for that distinction lies with an entity known as Bhaal. The Bhaal that I speak of is the one you know of as a divinity. In the crisis known as the Time of Troubles, when the gods walked Faerûn, Bhaal was also forced into a mortal shell. He was somehow forewarned of the death that awaited him during this time. For reasons unknown to me, he sought out women of every race and forced himself upon them. Your mother was one of those women, and as you know, she died in childbirth. I had been her friend and, on occasion, lover. I felt obligated to raise you as my own. I have always thought of you as my child, and I hope you still think of me as your father. You are a special child. The blood of the gods runs through your veins. If you make use of our extensive library, you will find that our founder, Alaundo, has many prophecies concerning the coming of the spawn of Bhaal. There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes. One, a man who calls himself Sarevok, is the worst danger. He has studied here at Candlekeep and thus knows a great deal about your history and who you are.
You have told me in the past that you have felt the whispers of your divinity, though you didn’t know it as such. I had always been afraid that the spark of Bhaal would affect you, but as you’ve grown I’ve found my worries to be unfounded. You have grown into a kind, generous young woman. You’ll recall I asked you to be especially nice to Imoen when we brought her to the keep, and you did exactly as I ask and then some. Though I’ve always noticed you to be a troubled girl, I can rest easy knowing that you will make me proud.
Love
Your father, Gorion
The parchment rattled in Aryana’s hands. Her vision blurred several times as tears welled and fell down her cheeks. Her heart was threatening to break her ribs with how hard it was beating. The unease she felt moments ago had grown to a rolling nausea. Her jaw tightened and her mouth became uncomfortably wet. “I-I’m going to be sick.”
Imoen jolted slightly, springing to action. In a blur, she snatched a bucket that was resting just beneath the bed’s end table. She got it to Aryana in the nick of time as her face disappeared in the bucket and room filled with an ugly retching sound.
Imoen winced, but held the bucket steady. “There you go,” she said softly as Aryana retched again. “Get it all out…”
Aryana whimpered, unable to say anything before more of her earlier dinner poured from her mouth. It was horrible. It made her want to die. Want to drown in her own sick and never again trouble the world. Until, finally, it was over. Her head was killing her, her mouth still tasted disgusting but it was over.
Slowly, she pulled her head away from the bucket, ungraciously handing it over to Imoen. She didn’t turn to see where her friend had stashed it off to. She was barely aware of the rest of the room, much less the rest of the world.
Imoen returned with a waterskin and gently set it in her lap. “Here,” she whispered.
Aryana took the water and rinsed her mouth, then took a few more gulps for good measure. “...You knew? This whole time?”
Imoen nodded, taking Aryana’s hand and squeezing it.
“...And you still followed me out of Candlekeep?”
“Of course,” Imoen said softly. “I couldn’t just stay behind while you were in danger out there.”
Aryana trembled, her eyes burning again. “But… I’m-”
“Aryana,” Imoen said, delicately cupping Aryana’s cheeks. “You’re Aryana. You’re my best friend. You’re Gorion’s daughter. You are the most kind, thoughtful woman I’ve ever met.”
Aryana couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. “You really lay it on thick…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Imoen said, matching Aryana’s smile with her own. “I am the master of subtlety. How dare you insinuate otherwise?”
Aryana leaned into Imoen’s hand. “...Thanks Im,” she whispered. “I still don’t know what all of this means… but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m always here for you, Ary,” Imoen said as her thumbs brushed against Aryana’s cheekbones. “It’s okay if you're confused or scared right now. We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”
Aryana nodded. “Okay.” She leaned in and wrapped Imoen in a tight hug. Her nerves were so frayed and yet Imoen was holding her steady.
Imoen eased them both down into the bed, pulling the covers back and over them. A relieved breath escaped her nostrils as they both got comfortable. The truth was out. The secret wasn’t eating her alive anymore. And Ary didn’t hate her for knowing. Everything was going to be okay. The lamplight in the room began to dim, their oil running out. That was fine. Imoen was relaxed enough to sleep for a week like this. She and Aryana always fit together like puzzle pieces.
The four of them gathered at a table the next morning, and Aryana shared what Imoen had told her, and Gorion’s letter. To her surprise, Jaheira was completely unphased.
“Gorion told me when you were very young,” she explained. “I wasn’t certain if he had told you yet when you came to us. Still I concur with his assessment. You have certainly lived up to his expectations.”
Aryana glanced toward the door, where a dark stain still lingered on the wood after the body of the assassin had long been dragged away. “I don’t know about that…”
“There is no evil in striking down someone who means you harm, Ary,” Jaheira said firmly.
“Yeah, I guess,” Aryana said, her tone dismissive. “But… it’s another thing entirely to delight in it, right?”
“If finding satisfaction in death was unnatural, the world would not have predators,” Jaheira said with a shrug. “And besides, one’s nature and one’s actions are two very different things.”
Aryana gave her a small smile. “...Thanks, Jaheira.”
Imoen gave Aryana a hug and kissed her cheek. “I told you.”
“That- That said,” Khalid interjected, his expression a touch more strained. “I understand if you- if you want to keep this under wraps. Most people won’t be- won’t be so trusting.”
Aryana nodded, wrapping an arm around Imoen. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“It’s not like it’s any of anyone else’s business anyway,” Imoen said with a smirk. “So, we’re off to Beregost today?”
“Assuming you two are still set on seeing this Iron Shortage conspiracy to the end,” Jaheira said. “Khalid and I are set on this quest by duty. The same cannot be said of you two.”
Aryana and Imoen looked at each other, seemingly conversing with their eyes alone. After a moment, Aryana nodded.
“Yeah. We’re with you,” Imoen said. “There’s still work to do to help the sword coast and we still gotta worry about our mystery assailant. Better to stick together.”
Jaheira smiled. “Good. Now Mulahey’s letters spoke of a Tranzig, staying at Feldpost’s Inn. I’ve heard of this man. A mage, and a nasty one at that.”
“How nasty are we talking?” Imoen asked.
“More conniving and ruthless than his wits allow,” Jaheira said dourly. “More than willing to sell an entire village to slavers just for a scrap of power.”
“I’ve heard tales of these kinds of mages. They’re power hungry, but they’re hungry for a reason. Because they don’t have it yet,” Aryana said.
“Yes. Gorion had to contend with such mages a great deal in his youth,” Jaheira nodded.
“A great great deal,” Khalid added with a wince. “I still have the-the scars.”
“Well, if Gorion can handle them, then we can certainly handle one together,” Imoen said with a smile, making a show of cracking her knuckles. “Which way to Feldpost?”
“We passed it on our way here,” Jaheria chuckled. “It’s an Inn in Beregost.”
“Ah. So two steps forward and one step back,” Imoen hummed. “That’s almost poetic.”
The four of them finished up their meal and stepped out into the cold morning air of Nashkel. Aryana took a deep breath and felt invigorated. The previous night had been an emotional upheaval, and she wasn’t entirely sure what her future held, but her success in the mines as well as Imoen’s comfort made everything feel that little bit less unstable. They had a direction, and she had her best friend at her back. Everything was going to be-
THWACK!
She was completely bulldozed off her feet by a massive, six foot tall man running at top speed along the street, sending her careening face first into the mud.
“Ary!” Imoen squeaked, rushing to kneel down at Aryana’s side. She frantically looked her over for injuries before her gaze darted up to the hulking figure that just tackled her. “Hey! Watch where you're going!”
The man turned around, revealing a winding blue tattoo arcing across his hairless head and stopping just under his cheek. His eyes widened slightly at the sight before him. “Oh! Oh, I do apologize,” he said in a deep timbre. “I rushed so fast, the world was but a blur just now!”
Aryana pulled herself out of the muck, wiping her jaw and sat up on her knees. There was a bubbling anger in the pit of her stomach at having the wind knocked out of her. Big oafish buffoon, what the hell was he-
She stopped and took a breath. “What’s the hurry, big guy?”
“I am searching for like minded warriors,” he said, pressing a fist into his open palm. “Fellow journeymen who are not afraid to exact justice on an encampment of vile Gnolls! Do you happen to know anyone like that?”
“Well,” Aryana said as Imoen helped her to her feet. “My friends and I just got done cleaning kobolds and undead out of a mine.”
“Oh excellent!” the tattooed man said before clearing his throat and schooling his expression. “I must humbly ask you for your help to help me correct a horrible mistake and save an innocent life from the clutches of those evil creatures.”
Jaheira’s eyes narrowed before looking back to Aryana. “Perhaps we should ask that this stranger explain himself.
“I was getting to that, give me a break I just got slammed into the mud at high speeds,” Aryana said, rubbing her temple. “So what happened, sir?”
“Well, it was a bright and sunny day,” the stranger said. “Spirits were high as I was escorting my charge along the Sword Coast.”
“Your charge?” Aryana asked.
“Indeed. Dynaheir. A brilliant and powerful sorcerer,” the man nodded. “It is my responsibility to safeguard her while she takes this important pilgrimage. But my senses did not sense enemies nearby before we were ambushed and separated.”
“Senses did not sense-” Aryana shook her head. “Okay. So… gnolls?”
“Yes, the hyena men!”
“Okay… what the hell are gnolls doing this far from the savannah?” Aryana asked, turning to Jaheira.
“A fair question,” Jaheira hummed. “These creatures seldom ever leave their hunting grounds without provocation. And they certainly do not snatch people up off the roads in unfamiliar lands.”
“The ‘why’ is for minds smarter than my own,” the bald stranger said. “My only concern is Dynaheir.”
“Okay, do you know where she is?”
“I do!” he said enthusiastically. “Myself and Boo tracked the filthy creatures to an abandoned fort to the southwest.”
Imoen frowned. “Abandoned fort… you don’t mean old Kingsgrave Keep?”
“Perhaps? I am not from these parts,” the man shrugged.
“Well it’s the only fort that could reasonably be abandoned,” Imoen shrugged.
“Well before we get ahead of ourselves,” Aryana said, holding a hand out to the man. “I’m Aryana. This is my best friend Imoen, and our guardians Khalid and Jaheira.”
“Oh, I’m last am I?” Jaheira said, folding her arms.
“A pleasure to meet you all!” the man said with a wide smile. “I am Minsc! Myself and Boo would be honored if you accompanied us on our mission!”
“Boo?” Imoen arched a brow. “You have another companion?”
Her question was answered by a squeak, and then a small brown rodent crawling out of the neck of Minsc’s tunic.
Aryana gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she stared at the creature. By the Gods… “He’s so cute!” she exclaimed, a wide grin on her face.
“Oh, you see Boo? You are already charming the village girls!” Minsc laughed, as Boo scampered down his arm, looking at Aryana curiously.
“Im, look at him!” Aryana exclaimed, gingerly holding out a hand for Boo to sniff. “He’s like a little fuzzy ball of Sunshine!”
Minsc chuckled. “Meet Boo, everyone! The world’s only Miniature Giant Space Hamster!”
“...I’m sorry, what?” Imoen asked.
“Miniature Giant Space Hamster,” Minsc said with a smiled.
“...So there’s a non miniature giant space hamster?” Aryana asked.
“Indeed! He hails from beyond the farthest stars!” Minsc beamed. “He says that from above, all of Faerun is round like a stone!”
Imoen leaned in to Aryana’s ear. “Round like a stone? This guy’s nuts.”
“Hey, don’t be mean,” Aryana whispered back.
“Aryana,” Jaheira interjected. “We have business in Beregost. Finding Tranzig before he realized we’re onto him would be wise.”
Aryana’s expression sobered as she looked between her companions and Minsc. A frown tugged at her lips as she realized that the decision indeed fell onto her. Which came first? Untangling this vast conspiracy, or lending a hand to the people asking her for aid? What would Gorion do?
She took a deep breath, considering the questions for a moment longer before turning to Jaheira. “I cannot look a person asking me for help in the eye and tell them to wait. Not when we know a life is on the line.” Her attention turned to bald warrior before her. “Minsc, if we help you rescue your charge, would you both be willing to help us in turn?”
“It would be my honor, an honor I’m certain Dynaheir would join me in!” Minsc said with a bright, goofy smile.
Aryana smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Let’s set off!”
I know because the clips used are my clips I am hurt beyond measure. 
Come home, Ethel. Come home.
