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The echoing rumbles of the Underdark were frightening. The thrumming of the Myconids’ song, the scraping of Hook Horrors’ powerful claws, the slithering of unknown terrors just underfoot were all cause to make any visitor from the surface tremble. But for Helena, these were as comforting as the noise of a bustling city street on a sunny afternoon or the call of a mourning dove at first light. These were the sounds of home.
The drow gazed off into the middle distance as the fire roared in front of her. The party had set up camp in a small cave, just a few paces from the entrance to Sovereign Spaw’s circle. A cauldron of stew boiled away on the fire. Helena entertained the idea of getting up to check their camp supplies for some bread to go along with it, but the prickling warmth was too cozy against her skin.
“How can you possibly be sitting so close to the fire, darling?” Astarion huffed, sitting down next to Helena on the ground. “I don’t think I ever want to be hot again.”
Helena smirked.
“One fight in Grym Forge and you’re ready to foreswear heat? I’m surprised, dear. I would have thought a cold-blooded creature like yourself would be drawn to it.”
Astarion pouted and folded his arms across his chest.
“Well, now, I don’t think that’s quite fair,” he spat. “Being surrounded by a pit of lava is not the same thing as having a pleasant bask in the sun, you know.”
Helena tutted and curled a lock of his silver hair around her finger, tucking it safely behind his ear.
“Now, now, dear,” she smiled. “Don’t be cross with me. I was only teasing.”
Astarion glared at her, but his look quickly softened. He turned away from her dramatically, still glancing at her from the sides of his eyes.
“You dreadful little thing,” he sighed, which caused her to chuckle. Her laugh was an ascending song that had seemed to become even more melodic since she claimed the sword Phalar Aluve from its rocky pedestal. In spite of himself, it still brought a smirk to his lips.
“Are you two cozy enough over here?” Shadowheart commented through a grimace as she suddenly appeared at the edge of the firelight.
“Always room for more,” Astarion leered. His smile deepened as he saw the combination of discomfort and disgust flash across Shadowheart’s face.
“I think I’d rather spend a night with a kuo-toa, thank you.” She dipped a ladle into the bubbling stew and brought it to her lips, blowing on it gently to cool it before taking a taste. “I’m starving. I wish Gale would get back with those extra mushrooms. It’s taking him ages.”
Helena sat a little straighter and craned her neck towards the cave entrance. It had been a while since the wizard had set off to collect a few extra ingredients for dinner. He’d said the mushrooms in question weren’t too far away and that they would provide some magical effects that might be helpful in the upcoming journey downwards into the ancient Sharran stronghold. But Helena had quite lost track of time since he’d departed.
“How long has he been gone?” she asked, her eyes fixed to the cave entrance, as if willing Gale to appear.
“A while,” Shadowheart replied breezily. “Maybe twenty, thirty minutes? Enough for my stomach to be growling.”
Helena rose to her feet, dusting herself off. Her face was taut with solemnity.
“I’ll go look for him.” Her voice was firm, unyielding. Despite their short time together, Astarion and Shadowheart both knew better than to offer accompanying her. When Helena held that tone, she’d already made up her mind about how a situation was going to play out, down to the smallest detail.
“Very well, darling,” Astarion shrugged. “Do what you must.”
Before he could finish his sentence, Helena had already grabbed Phalar Aluve and her shield and was trotting away from camp. As soon as she was out of the cave and in the Underdark proper, she stilled, her ears straining to listen to any sounds that were abnormal to the soundscape. It was hard to hear over the Myconids’ song, which had grown in volume as she neared the colony.
Quite confoundingly, her mind began to make up scenarios that took her focus away from the task at hand. Perhaps a duergar had hidden themselves at the ruined village on the beach and had taken Gale prisoner. Perhaps another bulette had taken him by surprise, flinging him from a cliff and into the chasms below. Perhaps she had misjudged their mindflayer ally Omeluum’s character and Gale was now paying the price of her costly mistake.
“Fool,” she murmured under her breath, beginning to jog towards the Myconid colony. “I should have gone with him. All this for some Gods-damned mushrooms.” As she entered the colony, one of the Myconids thrummed in greeting.
“Life-Chanter, be at home.”
She nodded hurriedly and continued on her way towards Sovereign Spaw. As he had the highest vantage point in the colony, he would be the one most likely to have seen Gale if he’d passed through. Her eyes fell onto the small workstation set up by Omeluum and the hobgoblin Blurg. They were busy chatting with no Gale in sight. Helena hesitantly decided to take this as a good sign.
The tallest mushroom in the colony was a mite more crowded than it had been the day prior. With the small group of deep gnomes thanking her for her assistance in Grym Forge, she found it difficult to wade towards Sovereign Spaw. Her heartbeat quickened as she offered impatient smiles to the crowd.
“Life-Chanter,” Sovereign Spaw’s words echoed in her head. “You are ill at ease. What is the cause?”
Frantically, Helena conjured images of Gale in her mind. Images of him heroically fighting the duergar and Nere, leaping out of the river of lava before collapsing to the ground, on death’s door. His battered and bruised face as he sputtered back to consciousness. She’d cradled his hand in hers for but a moment before she rallied against the duergar who had thrown him to the flames with a fury she still did not fully understand.
“The wizard. You worry for him.”
Sovereign Spaw’s reply pulled Helena suddenly from her own rapid thoughts. She realized how much she had shared, not all of it necessary.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. “Have you seen him?”
Spaw paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. Shortly, his thoughts hummed in her mind again.
“The wizard passed through some time ago.” Spaw lifted an arm, indicating the direction.
Helena bowed reverently before wading back through the crowd of deep gnomes and hurrying down the mushroom staircase. If Gale had gone through this way, he might have headed to the sussur tree. She imagined him stranded on its tallest branches, his connection with the Weave severed as Hook Horrors surrounded him. She sped her pace, ignoring the questioning hums of the Myconids she passed. Her eyes were fixed on the eastern exit of the colony.
Suddenly, a familiar laugh caught her ear. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound and she beheld Gale, his hands clasping a basket of mushrooms, chatting away with (or perhaps simply to) the dwarven merchant Derryth Bonecloak.
“But, I digress,” he said cheerfully. “At any rate, I’ve been much more cautious with my potion brewing since then. Ah, how youth can convince us of our immortality, eh?”
“Gale!” Helena called, rushing up to him. He turned to her and offered a surprised but glad smile. “By the Gods, you scared the living shit out of me, running off like that!” Gale’s smile shifted into a confused look.
“Sorry?” It was more of a question than an apology. “I do believe I informed everyone at camp I was going to find some mushrooms to add to our provisions this evening, did I not?”
Helena gritted her teeth, an infuriating warmth spreading to her cheeks. The relief that washed over her when she’d seen that Gale was safe had been all-encompassing.
“You were gone an awfully long time,” she grumbled. “Shadowheart was very worried.”
Gale raised an eyebrow. Then, a knowing look twinkled in his dark eyes.
“I shall have to offer her my apologies, then,” he smirked. “For making her worry.” He nodded a farewell to Derryth, who honestly looked relieved for him to go. She’d probably had enough blabbering from her dullard husband to last her a lifetime without Gale adding to it. “She needn’t have been so worried, though,” Gale said after a pause. “Not too much danger in seeking out a couple extra ingredients for supper. I’m quite the accomplished wizard, need I remind…her.”
Helena’s face burned. She did know this. As soon as she’d found Gale safe and sound, the knowledge of his power and arcane prowess had come flooding back to her memory.
“Gale, this is the Underdark,” she replied, attempting to hide her blush as they strolled back through the colony campward. “None of us ought to be wandering around alone, no matter how adept we are. This place is treacherous.”
“Thank you, Helena.” Gale rolled his eyes, clearly a bit irritated. “I have, in fact, read about the Underdark before we even set foot here. And, if you’ve forgotten, I’ve been fighting by your side this whole time as well. I’m familiar with the dangers that lurk in this place. And, may I remind you again, I told everyone where I was going.” He paused for a moment, going over Helena’s argument piece by piece in his head. “Isn’t that a bit hypocritical of you? None of us should go off alone? When you’ve done that more times yourself than I care to count?”
Helena’s face contorted with embarrassment. The sternness in Gale’s eyes was rending her very core asunder.
“It’s different when I do it,” she muttered. “This is my home. I wouldn’t worry so much if you were wandering around in Waterdeep.”
“Ah, there it is.” The self-satisfaction in Gale’s tone made Helena stop in her tracks. “So it was you who was so concerned for me. Not Shadowheart.”
“I…” Helena’s jaw hung slightly open as she struggled to find some kind of retort. But nothing came. She was worried about Gale. All the time. It didn’t matter how powerful a wizard he was, how masterfully he manipulated the Weave both in and out of battle, how fiercely intelligent and knowledgeable he was about seemingly everything they came across from meddling goblin to befuddling mushroom spore. She was always worried about Gale. He was too precious to her to risk losing. And his brush with death in Grym Forge had brought that fact to the front and center of her thoughts. She fumbled around in her mind for several seconds before giving up. “I’m sorry, Gale.”
Gale raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
“Please, there’s no reason to apologize. You’re just concerned about the wellbeing of your allies. Maybe a little too concerned given the level of our abilities, but your desire for us to be safe is noble. The mark of a great leader, even.” He paused. “But, perhaps acting upon that desire could be spared for truly perilous circumstances in future, hm?”
Helena reached forward and gently took Gale’s hand, as she had when she was bringing him back to consciousness in Grym Forge. His fingers had been limp and almost lifeless then, but now she could feel his pulse through his skin. It was nice to replace the former memory of them. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. A faint flush had spread across his cheeks, nearly imperceptible in the darkness. She smiled, dropped his hand, and continued the walk back to camp.
“So tell me about these ever-so-important mushrooms, oh great and powerful wizard.”