The Ascendancy of the Vampire

2. The Wizard Wants To Join The Party

Nightingale opened her azure eyes to dim light, her head pounding with a piercing headache. Raising her hands to her head, she found her indigo hair damp and her messy bangs plastered to her face. Liquid trailed down her cheek. She rubbed the fluid between her fingers and sniffed it. Blood.

She tried to remember what happened. While she was traveling around north Faerûn, an alien vessel had appeared barreling across the sky. When the ship passed her, a giant tentacle had descended and grabbed her.

In the dark chamber, Night looked out from the pod she sat in, realizing she was seeing the innards of a nautiloid, ships flown by mind flayers. The monsters kidnapped people to implant tadpoles into their brains, birthing new mind flayers. Memories flashed of one such aberration jamming a tad pole through her eye.

She groaned into her hands as dread set in. She only had a matter of days before the process of ceremorphisis would turn her into a mind flayer, an excruciatingly process that she would rather avoid.

Patting her clothing, she confirmed that she was wearing her mage robe, a sturdy white and lavender cloak. Underneath her robe, she felt her small bag of holding, discrete and snug against her hip. She breathed a sigh of relief.

In the cramped space, she shifted to reach inside her bag and extracted a potion of healing. She popped the cork and downed the bottle in one go, feeling the healing magic wash over her, her headache lessening.

Next, she needed to break out of the pod. Night put her hand against the cool surface of the lid. She gave it a solid push. It didn’t budge.

A handful of spells came to mind that she could use to blast herself out of the pod. But in precarious situations like this, the wizard noted, it was important to be subtle.

Night murmured a practiced incantation, tracing a symbol in the air with one finger. The space around her shimmered, and she felt a familiar pressure on her ears. All sound promptly dissipated.

She held her palm against the lid again and focused her mind, letting her magic flow. Her innate metamagic reached out through the Weave, and the magic of Knock manifested without the need for an incantation. The surface of the pod glowed with faint blue runes, and then in total silence, the lid popped open.

Night bunched her robe and cautiously stepped out, unsteady on her feet. Dismissing the Silence aura, the organic noises of the nautiloid returned.

In the center of the room sat a small vat of liquid emitting a yellow glow. Always curious, Night approached cautiously and peeked inside. Several tadpoles squirmed in the fluid. She wrinkled her nose and grimaced.

Just then, mucous dripped from the ceiling and hit her on the head, cold and sticky. She whimpered in disgust as she touched her head and felt the substance. I need to get out of here, she thought desperately.

As she approached the entrance, the membrane that acted as a door retracted on her approach. Intrigued, she looked around the doorway, admiring the mechanism for just a moment.

Then she quietly surveyed the hallway, a narrow corridor made of the same alien flesh as the chamber. All of this was lit by a dim violet glow, and accompanied by soft squelching noises. The walls contracted slightly as it seemed to breathe.

Night gasped softly, and she couldn’t help the awe spreading across her face. What interesting technology, she thought. I wonder how the mind flayers sustain the ship. Does it need food?

Focus, she told herself sternly, realizing she was already getting distracted. She reminded herself that she had more urgent matters to attend to. Like the impending ceremorphisis.

…But maybe she could spare a few moments to study this alien technology? It’s not every day that one got to experience the insides of a nautiloid. She was already here, after all.

Kalsarin hovered high in the sky, beating his wings in place, as he and Astor watched the remains of the nautiloid crash into the sandy shores of the nearby river. The wreckage burned on the beach as smoke and debris filled the scene.

The dragon circled the area once, landing in an open field some distance away. His landing was rough, dust kicking up around them.

Astor slid off Kal’s back, landing unsteadily on his feet. He was trembling slightly, still light headed from the adrenaline of almost dying, the excitement of the flight, and the thrill of standing in the sun.

Kal’s dragon form glowed and contracted until he was back in his humanoid disguise. He blinked, and then stretched his arms out. “That was good exercise,” he said. “But what happened? I thought you said you would burn.”

“I thought so too…” Astor admitted, rubbing his arms. “But maybe with this tadpole, it’s not a problem anymore.”

“That’s lucky for you. I wonder what powers this tadpole gave me,” Kal mused.

Astor gave a weary laugh. “You don’t need more power, Kal. You’re already a force of nature.”

“Why, thank you. I think?” Kal laughed loudly. Then he suddenly snapped his head towards the tree line. “Who’s that?”

Astor looked over, his hand immediately drawing his dagger from its sheath. When he saw the silhouette of a slim woman in the trees’ shadows, he froze in a defensive pose, his eyes widening in increasing panic.

Memories of his life flashed unprompted. For the past two centuries, Astor belonged to Velith Szarr, a vampire lord living in Baldur’s Gate. His master hid amongst the populace as a member of the patriar, the city’s noble class. She kept Astor as a starved spawn, obedient and useful, a pretty instrument for her schemes and entertainment.

The kidnapping by the nautiloid was the first time he had been apart from his master, away from Velith’s compulsion, and Astor had hoped this meant he could be free from her control once and for all. But of course she would be able to track him, and of course she would have come to drag him home.

However, as the stranger stepped into the sun, Astor saw that it was not his master. This woman appeared human, with indigo hair tied up high in a loose ponytail, and bright azure eyes peeking out of messy bangs.

Their eyes met, and then the woman’s stare lowered and landed on Astor’s drawn dagger.

“Woah there, I’m on your side!” she immediately exclaimed. Her hands shot up, palms out, though her hands were mostly buried in the long flowing sleeves of her robes.

Astor kept his dagger raised. His red eyes narrowed in suspicion, the tension in his shoulders refusing to leave. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you on the ship with a dragon,” she explained. “You two were subjected to tadpole insertions too, weren’t you?”

Astor paused, regarding the woman, who was a head shorter than him. Then he nodded. “…How did you survive the crash?”

She gestured to her outfit in response. “I’m a wizard, if that wasn’t obvious… You see, there’s this handy spell called Feather Fall—”

“I know what Feather Fall is,” Astor cut in impatiently. Her height. Her narrow build. He couldn’t shake the resemblance, and he tried to push his irritation down, exhaling forcefully. Finally, he lowered his dagger. “I’m Astor, this is Kalsarin.”

“Yo!” Kal greeted from behind Astor, raising one hand in the air. “I’m the dragon.”

“Oh, curious! A dragon who employs a two-legged form.” She gave a small bow in greeting. “I’m Nightingale of House Dezarian, from Waterdeep.”

“A Waterdhavian noble in our presence,” Astor replied dryly. “I don’t suppose you have a solution for these tadpoles?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I do know we have about a tenday before we turn into mind flayers ourselves. We must find a healer quickly. So let’s work together.”

“You want to join us?” Astor feinted surprise. Then he crossed his arms and smirked. “And what do you bring to the table?”

Night was taken slightly aback. “Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I am an archmage,” she explained proudly, tilting her chin up. “In some circles, I am quite well known and respected. I can handle the magical side of things.”

“That does sound useful,” Kal remarked. “You’re in.”

“Excuse me,” Astor announced, stepping in smoothly. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Kal, but we don’t recruit strangers quite that quickly.” He turned to Night. “If anyone’s making decisions for this little expedition, it will be me.”

“And what gives you the credentials?” Night asked. She planted a hand on her hip as she looked him over with a doubtful expression.

“Wit, intelligence, and dashing good looks,” Astor replied with a confident grin. His red eyes flashed as enchantment magic threaded his next words. “It only makes sense that I’m the leader.”

Night and Kal’s eyes glowed pink for a moment, and then they both shook it off.

Night recovered first and scoffed. “Mind magic? Really?”

Kal, meanwhile, was amused, and he laughed loudly. “He’s not shy about it, that’s for sure.”

Astor held his smile, though his teeth were clenched. They shook off his potent voice magic off far too easily for his comfort. Perhaps he had used it too many times that day.

“Well,” he said lightly, making a show of sheathing his dagger. “You pass, Nightingale. Since we’re all in the same unfortunate situation, it only makes sense to join forces.”

“Welcome, Nightingale!” Kal boomed, clapping.

Night raised an eyebrow, then she relaxed, her shoulders dropping. “Most excellent. I’m sure you’ll find that a wizard is excellent company to keep.”

“Uh huh,” Astor replied dismissively, as he turned and started walking towards the dirt road.