Ishta: Blood Huntress of Baldur's Gate

Chapter Three: Spritely Skeletons

Astarion raised his eyebrow at the term Ishta had just used to describe him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He found he quite liked the idea of being considered a Rogue. However, he hesitated when looking at the hand she was offering to him, his mind racing with uncertainty.

Should he shake it? His skin wasn't quite as cold as a corpse—a ridiculous exaggeration fuelled by fictional accounts of Vampires—but his body temperature was still low enough to cause comment, and had on more than one occasion.

Given how sharp this Ranger was, Astarion didn't want to add to her growing list of observations about him. He was just thankful the collar of his padded doublet was high enough to cover the fang marks on his neck.

He glanced at her face, noting the sincerity in her eyes, and felt a pang of guilt at his hesitation.

Before he could make a decision, a deafening explosion suddenly rocked the chamber, causing both him and Ishta to whip their heads around in alarm toward the source of the blast. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and dust rained down from the ancient stone ceiling.

Gale and Shadowheart came shooting out from the large oak doors at the opposite end of the crypt, their faces contorted in panic as they practically fell over each other in a desperate attempt to escape the wall of fire that was nipping at their heels.

Ishta's eyes widened, and without a second thought, she sprinted to help them, her boots echoing against the stone floor.

As Ishta struggled to close the heavy doors behind them, Astarion caught a glimpse of another crypt with a sarcophagus in the centre, completely engulfed in flames. He sniggered to himself as he realized they must have set off a trap meant to dissuade any would-be grave robbers.

His amusement was cut short, however, as he saw the tension in Ishta's posture. She must have had the same thought, as she turned on the slightly singed pair with a stern glare, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and relief.

"I take it neither of you thought to check for traps before you did whatever you did back there?" Ishta asked through gritted teeth, her voice low and dangerous. Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and concern, and Astarion could see the tension in her clenched jaw.

Gale ran a hand through his singed hair, his face a mask of chagrin. "I'm afraid that was my doing," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. He avoided her gaze, clearly embarrassed.

"I got a little too engrossed in studying the text on the sarcophagus, and may have nudged something I shouldn't have."

Shadowheart, still catching her breath, shot him a withering look. Her eyes burned with frustration. "A little engrossed? You nearly got us killed!" she snapped.

Ishta, her anger slowly ebbing, let out a sigh and rubbed her temples. Astarion noticed the lines of worry on her forehead. "Alright, let's just be more careful from now on," she said, her voice softening slightly as she added, "And rule number one of crypts and dungeons: There are always traps."

"Duly noted," Gale nodded, looking abashed. "I didn't really get much opportunity to go dungeon delving in the course of my studies. I'm more used to dealing with deterrents of an arcane nature. If that inferno had been a magical trap, I'm certain I would have detected it and saved myself a light roasting."

"No doubt," Astarion sneered sarcastically at the Wizard as he sauntered over to join them.

"What are you doing, Ishta?" Shadowheart suddenly asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Astarion turned to see Ishta standing with her hand on the doors leading into the burning crypt. She threw them open, and he took an involuntary step back as the heat from the gouts of flame blasted out, hitting his face like a furnace.