The Heroes of Baldur's Gate... and Me

Part 10: Falling from Cloud Nine

We awoke early the next morning, the sun not quite breaking the horizon to dispel the damp mist that had settled over the land. After Astarion bandaged the bite on my neck again, we gathered our bedrolls and packs, and began to make the descend back down the rocks.

The progress was slow at first in the dim light, but once we had found our feet we started to descend quicker. Astarion would often hold out his hand for me to grasp over particularly tricky or steep areas. I would hold his hand tightly, marvelling at the coolness of his skin, the strength in his grip.

By midmorning, we had reached the road again, quiet and devoid of life, and we turned our feet to the South and back to camp.

The day was clearer than yesterday, but a chill still hung in the air, nipping at our extremities and exposed skin.
As we walked side by side, I noticed Astarion appeared deep in thought, his eyes focused upon the road ahead of us, a crease between his pale brows.
As the silence between us lengthened, I reached out and lay a hand on his arm. "Penny for your thoughts?" I enquired gently.

His head snapped around to me, having been roused from his daydream, before he graced me with an easy smile. "My apologies, I was lost in my thoughts." He answers smoothly, as he drapes his arm over the back of my shoulders, drawing me closer to him.
However I see the smile does not reach his eyes, and I see the turmoil in them. He is distracted, fighting an inner battle.

"Are you okay?" I ask hesitantly, "is there anything I can do?"

He shakes his head as he turns to me. "My sweet, you have done enough already." He croons, his arm around me tightening. "But I suppose I should tell you about Cazador..." His tone turns serious, a look of both anger and sadness mar his beautiful face.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to" I whisper, but before I can continue he stops me.

"I don't want to say a damn thing, but that won't do anyone any good." He snaps, the anger radiating off him now, his eyes showing a torrent of emotions. I stay quiet, realising he needs to get this off his chest, and I listen as he needs.

"Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldurs Gate." His face scrunches up in disgust as he says the name, a deep hatred and resentment in his words. " The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people. The power to control them completely.
He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor."

"How did he turn you?" I can't help but ask, my eyes wide as I look up to him. "Did he attack you?"

"Not him, no." He responds, his eyes unfocused as he stares ahead, as if seeing something else. "I was attacked by a group of thugs, angry about a ruling I handed down as magistrate. They beat me to death's door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To offer me eternal life. Given that my choices were 'eternal life' or 'bleed to death on the streets', I took him up on his offer."

A sadness takes over Astarion's expression, a quiet despair echoes in his voice. "It was only afterwards I realised how long 'eternity' could be."

"And you have been his slave ever since?" I whisper, aghast at the terrible things that were done to him. He always seems so strong, confident, so sure of himself -its was one of the things I truly admired about him.

"Yes. He had me go out into Baldurs Gate and bring back the most beautiful souls I could find." His tone had a bitter edge, his face twisted as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "It was a fun little ritual of his - I'd bring them back and he'd ask if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he would serve me a dead, putrid rat. And of course if I said no, he would have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse."