Page 56 of Astarion

“So I see.” Astarion consulted his nerves. They were not thrilled about returning to the company of the paladin, but they were even less thrilled with the prospect of being flung back into a cell. “I’ll just…come back down again, shall I?”

It was easier said than done. He made it only halfway down before den Suriel reached up and caught him around the waist.

“Where were you when I was sixteen and daydreaming about heroes?” Astarion muttered.

The paladin set him on his feet. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.” Astarion brushed at his clothes, removing enough dust to reveal an exciting new layer of dust underneath. He gave it up as a bad job. “If we can get to what’s left of that tower over there, I can climb up and see if there’s a way out that doesn’t involve quite so much mayhem.”

“I don’t mind the mayhem.”

“I didn’t think for one moment that you did.”

The view from the ruined tower was not as good as the one from the overlook high on the wall, but it was enough to confirm Astarion’s suspicion. There was simply no way to reach the plaza holding the relic that did not involve a hundred skeletons, minimum. There were rooftops he could have snuck across, but the amount of open ground increased the closer one got to the plaza.

And then I have to assume that there are alarms on the relic and that if I trip one, the skeletons from all over the cavern will converge on me. Which is, what, a thousand of them?

If I had a potion of invisibility, and perhaps a very large distraction…

The large distraction at the base of the tower shifted from foot to foot.

I would still need the potion, or something similar. I can’t do it right now. But if we’re up against undead, I’m sure I can convince the gentleman to come back down here and smite some of them while I get to work.

Astarion smiled to himself. This could be the beginning of a very profitable relationship. And if worse comes to worst, I can always take a vial of his blood to Cazador. Probably not enough to win the old bastard’s favor, but you never know.

This wall was easier to climb down, but den Suriel reached up to help him anyway. Even with gauntlets, his touch was confident and careful, the grip of a man who knew his own strength but did not fear it. Astarion entertained a brief pleasant fantasy, which was rudely broken when another skeleton came around the corner and den Suriel bashed it over the head.

“Any luck?” den Suriel asked, stomping on the bones until the phalanges stopped wriggling.

“I can get us out, but I do not think I can get us to the blood without infuriating at least a thousand skeletons.”

“Hmm.” Den Suriel rubbed his chin. “Well, if my back is to a solid wall and there are no mummies, I suspect I could take forty or fifty before they brought me down. Do you think you can handle the remaining nine hundred and fifty?”

“Alas, any more than nine hundred is likely to prove insurmountable.”

Den Suriel’s teeth flashed. “Do you want to try anyway?”

Astarion was beginning to get the impression that his new companion had something of a death wish. “Or we could come back later? Maybe with a plan?”

The aasimar looked like a small boy deprived of a treat, but he said, “I suppose that’s an option, too.”

It took Astarion a moment to mentally map the best route, during which den Suriel murmured something over his sword. Astarion caught the words “Lathander, Morninglord, grant your blessings upon my blade.” He would have rolled his eyes, but then den Suriel ran a mailed finger up the blade, and a spark of golden light followed in its wake. Astarion’s ears popped.

“We go this way,” Astarion said once the sensation had faded. “Hug the cavern wall. It will take longer, but there’s fewer of these unpleasant individuals in the way.”

Most of the skeletons came in ones and twos. It wasn’t until they had reached an area den Suriel recognized that they encountered another large group, standing in front of a rough archway cut into the stone.

“That’s it,” den Suriel said.

Astarion glanced around. There were multiple bridges that passed over the main street here, but they were all crumbling to the point that his weight would likely bring them down, let alone the aasimar’s. Even if he could get close to the group on one, the best he could do was drop rocks. Chipping away at the group, rock by rock, could take hours.

“May I charge?” den Suriel asked. “If you don’t have a better plan? Please?”

“Far be it from me to deny you your fun, but—”

Den Suriel charged.

“—there are a lot of them,” Astarion finished. “Why do I even bother?” he asked the nearest skeleton, who tilted its skull to one side and then tried to hit him.