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Jun 13

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 107

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

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Everything had been just as Malitas said - a box containing her clone and a table upon which sat a set of clothes, a spare staff, a Potion of Angelic Slumber, a Scroll of Gate, and a letter.

Her eyes followed the lines of her name on the envelope, written in his familiar cursive handwriting. She hadn't expected to be so nervous about this, but now that she held it, she found herself needing a moment to calm the anxiety that roiled in her stomach.

Finally she opened the envelop, took out the letter, and unfolded it.

Saffron,

If you're reading this, I can only assume you have died. I am sorry, firstly for being unable to protect you from this fate, and secondly for the fact that you had to endure such an ordeal. I hope the death was quick and painless, and the nausea does not linger.

You are currently in a demiplane I created to house the clone you have just reincarnated into. Please make use of the clothes and staff, and should you need it, the potion. It will send you to sleep for a few seconds, after which you will awaken with your magic fully replenished. You will also find a Scroll of Gate, which you can use to return whenever you are ready.

As for why you have reincarnated in this way - I created a clone of you when it looked like the infection you were left with after Aryn's attack could prove fatal. Initially you consented to the idea, but when you realised what would be required from you, the fear triggered a flashback. I regret to say that I restrained you and forcibly took what was needed. I should not have done such a thing, but at the time it seemed the only way to save your life. However, even afterwards, you would disassociate whenever you saw me. Unable to care for you like this, I felt I had no choice but to remove the cause of your fear - I erased the memories of what I did to you, after which the dissociation ceased. The memories are hidden behind a Modify Memory spell, and to prevent these memories from being restored unintentionally, I have placed a cover curse on you that stops less powerful curses from being removed.

I should never have done this, and certainly should not have kept it from you for so long. I had hoped to find the right time to tell you, to spare you the pain of finding out this way. I can only apologise, deeply and sincerely. I certainly do not expect forgiveness in any form, and if you wish me out of your life I will not object, but please grant me the chance to speak to you one last time and explain. There is much else that must be said.

Malitas

She felt almost numb as she sighed and leant against the table. How would she have reacted, she wondered, if she'd found out this way? How different things would have been…

She glanced back at the room one more time, then turned and headed out of the portal that swirled on the far wall. Gale awaited her on the other side, back in Malitas's tower, and she gave him a small nod.

"Just as he said," she murmured, leaning against the desk he was standing next to, then holding the letter out for him. He took it and quickly read through it, humming in thought.

"There is much else that must be said. One assumes he's talking about Saffy here," he observed, and she nodded in agreement.

"I thought the same. I guess he really was planning on telling me about her then."

"So it seems… unless he simply wrote that to pique your curiosity and convince you to give him a chance to talk to you and try to earn your forgiveness. He likely knows he can be more convincing in person than in a letter."

She was quiet as she considered that. Perhaps he was right, yet she didn't think so.

"We should get some sleep," she decided, standing up from the desk. "We need to be well rested to face Orin tomorrow."

Of course, she never felt truly well rested these days. Not with the nightmares.

She powered through her tiredness, and soon the familiar sight of the Bhaal temple greeted her eyes once more.

Orin awaited them at the alter, Bhaal's visage looming above them all. The grin that spread across Orin's lips that before instilled such fear in Saff had no such effect on her now. Not with her friends at her back.

"So the frightened little faun returns," she cooed playfully, looking up at them from the alter. "No, not a little faun - a little mouse."

"You're not the first to call me a little mouse," Saff said calmly, her voice echoing off the walls. "He died in his own house," she glanced at the Bhaal temple around them, "surrounded by his followers," she glanced at the Bhaalists that circled her, "convinced he would kill us all."

"My blade is sharper than any devil's," Orin gloated, brandishing her daggers, "and it should have been used to spill your crimson! Your murder would have been exquisite. A crypt-born effigy to greet Bhaal's bleeding dawn. But you fled, little mouse, little faun, little lamb for the slaughter! Little wizard, little druid…" she cocked her head to the side, and a knowing smile spread across her lips, "…little butterfly."

She laughed, manic and crazed.

"Bhaal sees you, he smells her magic on you! Birthed to his enemies, baptised in waters that were once his, waters that once ran red with blood spilled by his hand!"

Saff froze, her eyes widening.

"What…?" She whispered, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"You've escaped him before, but now, now… I will make you the offering you were always meant to be! Your crimson will spill and you shall be slaughtered in Bhaal's name…" her eyes met Saff's, her lips spreading into a sinister smile, "…just like your ancestors."

Saff's eyes widened, but before she could speak, Orin threw her arms out and the stones glowed red beneath her.

"Come to me, Father! Set my flesh to your unholy purpose!"

An unnatural pulse of red magic swirled around Orin, and from her flesh burst forth a creature Saff had only read about before now - four arms, razor-sharp talons and a hundred teeth. The Slayer.

She felt anger boiling through her at the thought of her ancestors, her family, murdered by Bhaalists. She might never know them, but she could avenge them.

She let her anger rise until fur sprouted from her skin, talons burst from her fingers, and the screech of an owlbear echoed through the temple. Orin joined her with a roar of her own, ready for battle. Saff looked down at her prey through avian eyes, and leapt from the parapet.

The two clashed together, a flurry of teeth and talons. She didn't even notice the battle around her between her friends and the cultists - she saw only her target, and let instinct take over.

For a time Orin seemed almost unstoppable, Saff's attacks doing little but glance off the surface of her chitinous skin, until finally shredded flesh fell from her talons and the taste of blood wet her tongue. Once the cultists were dealt with, the others turned their attacks to Orin and at last she fell, screaming as she clawed her away across the ground and her body dissolved to nothing but ashes and blood.

Saff reared up and roared, letting out the last of her anger, before letting the wild shape fall away and standing on human feet once more.

Around her she heard the others celebrating, but she couldn't bring herself to join them. She stared down at the remains of the corpse in front of her, little more than a blood-drenched skeleton. Orin's blade lay in the pool of blood, the netherstone glowing and beckoning to her, yet even that wasn't what lingered on her mind.

"Saff?"

She turned to see Gale approaching her, watching her in concern.

"She knew about my family," she said softly, looking back down at Orin's remains. "She knew who I am… how could she possibly know?"

"If we are to believe her word, Bhaal himself told her. But I would take anything she says with extreme scepticism - she assumed your form, which means she had access to your memories. She will have known you seek knowledge about your family, and could easily have planned to use that against you."

The argument made sense, yet Saff remained unconvinced.

"There must be other information somewhere," she said, glancing down the stairs towards the room that lay beneath the alter. Quickly she headed down, hoping to discover more.

The bedroom they found yielded plenty of information about Orin, but nothing about Saff. They even tried to use Speak with Dead on the two corpses in the room, but the woman they discovered to be Orin's mother had no knowledge of Saff, and the imp that had served as Orin's butler had nothing to say.

They returned to the alter to find the others waiting for them. Saff looked up towards the exit, and only then did she see the other cultists that gathered around the stairs and looked down at them all.

"Why are they just… watching? Why aren't they attacking us?" She asked, feeling a deep unease at all their eyes on her.

"Perhaps because they just saw us kill their strongest member and don't want to face the same fate," Gale reasoned.

"Who cares? They're Bhaalists - they gotta go," Karlach said as she reached for her battle axe, but Halsin was hesitant.

"Bhaalists or not, we shouldn't kill them in cold blood," he reasoned.

"And I don't fancy fighting them all to get out if they're just going to let us walk free," Astarion added.

"We can't just leave them all here," Saff pointed out, "they'll continue killing people in the city."

"I'll tell my father, and he'll alert the Fist," Wyll decided firmly. "They'll be rounded up and punished to the full extent of the law. Not killed in cold blood, but not left to continue their reign of terror."

With that agreed upon and with the netherstone in hand, they left.

At the tower, Saffy was just as surprised to hear the news as Saff had been.

"Birthed to his enemies, baptised in waters that were once his… what does that mean?" She asked, frowning as she tried to figure it out.

"I don't know," Saff said with a sigh. "I've been trying to work it out all the way back."

"'Birthed to his enemies'," Gale considered, stroking his chin. "Sadly that doesn't narrow things down much, Bhaal has plenty of enemies. 'Baptised in waters that were once his' also doesn't help us much, Bhaal's domain has grown and shrunk significantly over the years. Plus, I hasten to remind you, we don't know if anything she says is true."

"That might be the case," Saff said, "but think about what else she said - I have the smell of her magic on me. I don't know who the 'her' she's referring to is, but remember what Withers said about the one that gave me that vision after I died in the Gauntlet of Shar? 'Where I am the dusk, she is the dawn. She watches over thee, and awaits thy return home.' What if they're referring to the same person?"

"That does make for a convincing argument," Gale conceded.

Saff sighed softly and glanced out the window, starting to feel overwhelmed by it all.

"I told Malitas I'd let him know when we defeated Orin," she said eventually, deciding she needed a task to focus on before she lost herself in her thoughts. "I'd best go talk to him."

He seemed relieved to see her when she entered the room.

"She is defeated?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Yes. Wyll is organising the Flaming Fist with his father to arrest the rest of the cultists."

"Well done," he said, and she gave only a small nod in acknowledgement. There was a pause as he watched her. "Something troubles you."

She sighed. Even now she can't seem to hide anything from him.

"Orin seemed to know about me. About who I am. She said I was born to Bhaal's enemies and baptised in waters that were once his."

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Curious… did she say how she knew this?"

"It looked like Bhaal told her himself. She said he can smell 'her' magic on me, but didn't say who 'her' was. We've been trying to figure it all out, but… well, Bhaal has a lot of enemies."

He hummed in thought, until his concentration was broken by the ground trembling.

It wasn't the first time they'd experienced one of the quakes, but it was the first time it had been severe enough that the wards protecting the tower began to flash and shimmer.

"They're getting stronger…" Malitas murmured, looking up at the walls and ceiling as dust fell from the ancient bricks.

"The brain is starting to break free without the netherstones to control it," Saff said, glancing around herself at the flickering magic.

"The wards will protect against small tremors like this, but should the quakes grow more intense… I don't know how long they will last," he warned. "They were designed to stop intruders, not natural disasters."

"Then we stop the brain before it gets too powerful," she said decidedly as the quake died down. "We have only Gortash to face next, then we take the fight to the brain."

She could tell he was about to ask to join them for that fight, but he didn't get the chance when he was interrupted by a far more unexpected sound ringing through the tower: the doorbell.

She looked down in the direction of the front door in surprise, wondering who that could possibly be. A visitor for them, or a visitor for Malitas who didn't yet know his fate?

"If it's for me," Malitas said, "do tell them that I'm terribly sorry, but I can't come to the door right now."

She gave him a look, then left the room.

Downstairs she found the others gathering on the stairs in the entrance hall, watching as Gale made his way to the door.

"Maybe I should answer," she offered as he looked through the peep hole. "I do live here, after all."

He looked back at her with a grin.

"Ah, but I don't think it's for you," he said, then quickly swung the door open to reveal a bearded old man she didn't recognise.

"Elminster!" Gale greeted enthusiastically.

"Ah, Gale! I was just here enjoying the fresh Baldurian air-"

"Elminster, I have a matter I think you can help us with."

"I am here on a rather important matter myself, in fact-"

"How much do you know about simuacra?"

Elminster paused, surprised by the question.

"What knowledge on the subject of simulacra is it that you wish to know?"

"Do you know a way to turn a simulacrum human? Or, failing that, a way to break a master's control over their simulacrum?"

Behind him Saffy leaned forward where she was stood on the stairs with the others, eager to hear the answer.

"My my, quite the question, m'boy," Elminster said with a chuckle. "I'm afraid if such a thing is possible, it is perhaps the one piece of knowledge I would not have access to, being a simulacrum myself."

Gale's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Wha-… what?" He whispered in shock.

"Well Mystra would hardly let her most valued Chosen go near destructive power of the sort within your chest, would she now?" Elminster reasoned, unfazed by how dismayed Gale clearly was by this.

"So, our conversation in the mountains…?"

"That was with me, not him, yes. But I assure you Gale, he knows what was said."

That did little to assuage Gale, who looked away bitterly. Strained as it may have been at first, that conversation between them had been important to him. A moment of bonding, of understanding. To hear that it had not actually been with Elminster at all, and that he'd been led to believe it was Elminster when it wasn't, didn't sit well with him. But that was a conversation to have with the real Elminster, not his simulacrum.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Saffy approaching, looking at Elminster with wide, curious eyes.

"You're a simulacrum of Elminster Aumar?" She asked, shocked to get the opportunity to such a person.

"I am indeed."

"And you were sent here because it was too dangerous for Elminster himself to come?"

"That is so."

"And doesn't that anger you?"

Elminster looked surprised by the question.

"Now why would that anger me?"

"Because you've had your life taken from you! You might be a simulacrum but you're still Elminster, you still have all your memories, all your hopes and dreams, but you can never fulfil them because you were created to be used as fodder on a quest that has a high likelihood of getting you killed! And now you have to watch while someone else lives out your life, and you have no choice but to follow orders and be a slave. How can that not anger you?"

Despite her impassioned speech, Elminster just chuckled.

"I am but a humble simulacrum, this is what I was created for."

Saffy could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"And when this is all over and you've played your part, what happens to you then?"

"Elminster will either find a new use for me, or will destroy me, I imagine."

"So that's it?" She asked, her voice beginning to waver from the emotions of seeing someone so content with being created just to be killed. "After everything you've done, after the life you've led, you're fine with this being how it all ends? You're fine with him just killing you because he has no more use for you?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You are the simulacrum Gale wishes to help, I assume? And you are bothered by your master potentially doing this to you?" He asked.

"Of course I am!" She gasped, unable to comprehend how someone could react like him.

He stroked his chin in contemplation.

"Curious," he murmured, deep in thought.

"Do you have any idea how she could be like this?" Gale asked, looking from Elminster to Saffy, then back to him. "How she can be so… alive?"

The simulacrum sighed and shook his head.

"Alas, simulacra are created with only passing knowledge of the spell used to create them. If we knew how to break free of our master's commands and were given the desire to do so, then the spell would be quite useless indeed!"

He chuckled, then looked at Saffy sympathetically.

"I'm afraid I cannot help you."

Saffy nodded despondently and stepped back slightly.

"So why are you here?" Gale asked, frustrated both by Elminster's deception and the simulacrum's inability to help Saffy.

"Mystra knows you defied her Gale. Of course she knows - she's Mystra! She bids you come to her holy shrine in the Stormshore Tabernacle. There, she will grant you an audience at last."

"Mystra's willing to speak to me again?" Gale couldn't help but wonder if Elminster had a hand in this, though only the real Elminster would know the answer to that question.

"She is, and I urge you to hear her out. Trust in yourself, Gale. Trust in the Weave. If you are willing, trust in Mystra. There is a conclusion yet to be written in sorry tale, Gale of Waterdeep, and yours is the quill that will write it."

With those ominous words, the simulacrum disappeared in a puff of magic.

Gale sighed and closed the door, then turned back to the others.

"So all it took to get her attention was to learn how to reforge an artefact that once destroyed her. Obvious, when you stop to think about it."

"Do you think she's going to remove the orb?" Saffy asked hopefully, but Gale didn't look confident.

"After refusing her orders, I doubt it. She's hardly going to want to reward me for such defiance. But it's a conversation that's long overdue on both sides. I owe it to her to hear her out, come what may afterwards."

"I don't think you owe her anything..." Saff muttered, folding her arms, before sighing in resignation. "But I agree you should go. Tell her you're going to find a different way to destroy the crown and ask that she removes the orb in exchange."

"Don't ask," Astarion said, looking down from the stairs where he stood with the others. "Demand."

That word echoed through Gale's head as he stood in front of Mystra's statue that afternoon, feeling the charge of Weave in the air, swirling around her stone likeness.

He stared up at the statue, taking a deep breath to gather his courage. One deep breath turned to several, until Saff took his hand in hers.

"You can do this, Gale," she encouraged, squeezing his hand.

"Can I?" He said flippantly, and she gave him a nod. "You're right. I'm a strong, capable wizard. And this is no more than a casual reunion with an ex-lover. My omnipotent, omniscient ex-lover…"

"At least she's probably not going to try to set you on fire," Saff muttered before she really realised what she was saying. "Sorry, that was a bit dark," she said quickly when Gale looked at her in surprise.

"Sometimes gallows humour is the best approach to a situation like this," Gale reasoned, then took yet another deep breath and focused on his task again. "I always wondered what being nervous would feel like," he mused, looking up at the statue. "I hate it."

"This is not the first time you've ever been nervous," she laughed, shaking her head.

"It's the first time I've been this nervous. Or perhaps it's a different kind of nervous to every previous time… regardless, it isn't a feeling I'm enjoying."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you're going there to tell her what she probably wants to hear - that you have a plan to destroy the brain, and that you have no intentions of using the crown yourself. Right?" She said firmly, the last word more a threat than a question.

"Right. Most certainly," he said quickly. "I can assure you I hold no delusions about that particular path anymore."

"Good. Then she has nothing to be angry at you for."

"Hmm… time will tell if that's true," he murmured, looking over at the statue. "I'd best get to it, Mystra is a patient goddess but she won't wait forever, and standing around isn't going to make my decision on what to say to her any easier. Unless you have any words of wisdom to impart before I go?"

She went quiet for a moment, considering their options.

"Just… say what will make her happy, even if you don't mean it. Unless she asks something terrible of you again, say whatever you have to say to get her to take that thing out of you," she said, nodding to the marking on his chest.

"Hmm, a more deceptive approach than I would have expected from you," he said in surprise.

"Believe me, I wish we could just tell her where to shove it," she said with a chuckle. "But… I know that sometimes, with people like this, you have to say whatever they want to hear until you're safe."

There was a moment between them, an unspoken silence that marked their shared experience.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers, then finally stepped back and looked up at the statue.

"I'll only be gone for a matter of moments. The Outer Planes experience time quite differently to our own." He continued to look at the statue for a moment, a pained wince coming to his face. "Wait for me. Please."

"Of course," she said quickly, pulling him into a hug. He tightly hugged her back, holding her for a long moment, before finally turning to the statue.

He reached out, Weave gathered around him, and with a flash he was gone.

The Outer Planes were very bit as beautiful as Gale remembered them, though that beauty did not come with the sense of calm and warmth that it had done before.

Then with a flash of magic she was in front of him again - the woman that had once meant everything to him. The woman that had condemned him to death.

"Gale of Waterdeep. You look well."

"As do you," he said, following Saff's advice, but unable to bring himself to say anything more flattering than that.

"Tactful as ever. But now it is only your candour I require."

Candour. Had she heard what Saff had said?

"I've been watching your journey here," she continued, her voice echoing into eternity in the way that only a goddess's can. "Your triumphs. Your temptations. Your doubts. You discovered what lies at the Heart of the Absolute - the Crown of Karsus - and you disobeyed my instruction. Why?"

There were so many answers he could give to that, but there was only one that came to his lips now.

"Because I have someone else to live for."

She didn't look impressed by that.

"I know. Your union is one I find surprising, but you are your own man and it is not the worst choice you have made, after all."

"Why do you find it surprising?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You had the opportunity for so much more, yet you chose a mortal. A not particularly powerful mortal, at that. But that is not what we're here to discuss, there are more important matters at hand, at time runs ever short. Do you understand why I severed our connection?"

He had many things he wished to say in response to that, but held his tongue from letting slip some of the more blunt answers he could give.

"A punishment for my reckless actions," he said diplomatically.

"How so? You think I should have cured you? Erased the consequences of your actions?" She challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, if not for me, then for the thousands that would have died had it erupted," he argued, his tone perhaps less diplomatic than he would have liked. Mystra seemed unbothered by his argument.

"Such eddies are unexceptional. Souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust. The Weave cannot be lost because we are unwilling to cause a ripple. And that is what is at stake here."

Gale seethed, angered by her casual dismissal of the importance of mortal life. If he needed any more proof of how expendable gods saw their followers, this was it.

"Your anger will help no one," she said calmly, noticing his demeanour. "The past cannot be undone with rage, nor can a future be forged. Only with the truth will you see the way ahead. The fragment of magic you tried to return to me was not of my creation. It was the Karsite Weave. It is a corrupted, half-born magic wrought in the brief moment Karsus ascended to godhood. It hungers for power just as he did, and it can never be sated. You unleashed something that would consume all magic in existence, and yet you thought only of preserving yourself."

He tried to keep his shock at hearing the truth of what lay in his chest hidden. He understood now what she feared so much - with the crown, he could learn to control it, and he would have in his hands a new type of magic that Mystra had no control over… or in trying to do so, he would bring about the destruction of his people, just like Karsus.

"I thought of preserving everyone around me. You may not care about mortal lives, but I do. If you hadn't stripped me of my abilities, I could have put things right."

She looked almost surprised by that answer.

"I did no such thing, Gale. When the Karsite Weave entered your body, your gifts were the first thing it consumed. The only reason the 'orb' sleeps is because I have allowed it to feed on the true Weave - a temporary measure, but one that will not be enough to save us. With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids. If you will not use the orb to end this abomination, then you must find a way to separate Crown and host. When you've done this, you must surrender the Crown of Karsus to me. Perform this service, and I will see you cured. You will be forgiven."

It seemed almost too easy. He had no wish to use the crown himself, and giving it to Mystra would ensure it could never again be used in the way it was now. Yet she was offering him a cure and forgiveness - a substantial reward for his service. Substantial enough that he could only conclude this meant she still feared he would use the crown against her, and didn't know that he'd already decided against that.

"You're the mother of all magic, the Weave incarnate. Can't you just destroy the Crown yourself?"

"It is not my place to destroy another god's creation, however temporarily he joined the pantheon. It must be you, Gale. You are the one who carries Karsus's power within you. You are the only one who can."

Exactly the answer he'd been hoping for.

"You understand what you are asking me to give up by doing this. The possibility of becoming a god myself."

"Crown yourself, Gale Dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders. If it does not crush you, I will."

"Perhaps you will, perhaps you won't. But grant me one last boon and I give you my word I will bring the crown to you, and we will never have to find out how that clash would end."

"You would ask for more of me?" She said, unimpressed.

"A trifling matter for you, but very important to me. I have a friend - a simulacrum. Grant her a human body, a human soul, and I will deliver the crown to you."

She watched him for a long moment.

"It is not my place to destroy another god's creation… nor is it my place to alter one."

Gale froze, his mind grinding to a halt at the implications of Mystra's words.

"But," she continued, "if you bring me the crown, I will give you the answers you seek."

For a moment he couldn't answer, until he managed to push his surprise away just long enough to give her a nod.

"Very well. The next time we meet, I will bring you the Crown."

For the first time, a smile came to her lips.

"Thank you. May the Weave's light guide your purpose, and its wisdom guide your hand. The future of magic rests on your shoulders, Gale of Waterdeep. I promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

Magic flared and Weave gathered once more, and with a flash he was back in the Stormshore Tabernacle.

"Gale!" Saff gasped happily, pulling him into a tight hug. "How was it?"

At first he didn't answer, he simply stared wide-eyed at Mystra's statue.

"…Gale?" She asked nervously, fearing what would produce such a reaction from him.

"I…" he started, his voice shaking from shock. "I think…"

He finally pried his eyes from the statue and looked at Saff.

"…I think Malitas might be a god."

#gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav

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