Novels2Search
Prototype's Gate
Act 5. Chapter 14

Act 5. Chapter 14

Everyone was gathered around the long, slightly battered table in the bunkhouse, the air filled with the smell of stewed meat and cheap ale.

Shadowheart sat close to Alex, her hand resting gently on his beneath the table, a small gesture of comfort hidden from the rest of the group. Alex glanced around at his companions, his eyes lingering on each of them in turn: Astarion with his perpetual smirk, Wyll’s steady presence, Karlach’s fiery disposition, Lae'zel’s stoic intensity, Gale’s thoughtful expression, Lump’s hulking frame, and the quiet aura of Halsin. At another table, Glut and Lara were immersed in a world of their own, exchanging soft words and occasional glances that spoke of a bond deeper than words.

All eyes were on Alex now, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"How was the fight?" Wyll asked, leaning forward slightly.

Alex’s lips curled into a faint smile. "It was… something," he began, launching into a detailed recount of his battle against Trezorr.

The table fell silent as he spoke, his voice weaving a vivid picture of the clash. He described the towering, shimmering rainbow-colored ooze and how it moved with a fluid, unnatural grace, its form both beautiful and grotesque. He told them about the moment he plunged into the primordial mass ,the sensation of being engulfed, and the fierce determination that drove him to consume it from the inside out. His words painted the scene so vividly that the group felt as though they had been there with him, fighting against impossible odds.

When he finished, there was a moment of stunned silence before Gale finally broke it. "What a fight," he said, shaking his head in amazement.

"A dragon, battling a gigantic, rainbow-colored ooze," Wyll added, his tone incredulous. "It sounds so ridiculous…"

"And yet, a praiseworthy victory," Lae'zel declared, her voice tinged with respect.

Under the table, Shadowheart’s hand tightened around Alex’s, her grip grounding him as he recalled the visceral details of the fight. The table erupted into smaller conversations until Halsin cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"While you were gone," Halsin began, his tone calm but serious, "I met with a friend… Jaheira."

Alex’s eyes sharpened. "How is she?"

"Not well," Halsin admitted, his face shadowed with concern. "She and her Harpers have been fighting doppelgangers non-stop since their arrival. They are everywhere. Worse still, they’ve encountered followers of Bhaal among their ranks."

Alex nodded slowly, already aware of the dire situation. That was why he’d chosen to provide the Guild with a marked map highlighting known doppelganger locations. The Guild, motivated purely by profit, would see the creatures as a threat to their operations and take action.

"Did she leave a message for me?" Alex asked.

Halsin nodded. "She said to meet her in the Lower City. When you’re there, she’ll make her presence known."

Alex exhaled deeply. "Hopefully, we’ll meet her before midday, if nothing delays us."

"Hopefully," Astarion chimed in, rolling his eyes theatrically. "Unless, of course, an old lady happens to need some help, and Alex, with his annoyingly big heart, drops everything to assist her."

His comment drew chuckles and laughter from the group, lightening the heavy atmosphere for a moment.

The levity didn’t last. Karlach’s voice cut through the chatter, her usual cheerful tone replaced with grim determination. "What about today’s coronation?" she asked, her nails raking against the wooden table as her gaze turned hard.

They all knew what she meant. The coronation was for none other than Gortash, the man who had sold her to Zariel, condemning her to a decade of torment in the Blood War. The man who had ripped her heart from her chest and replaced it with an infernal engine. All the pain, all the suffering—it traced back to him. And now, he sat smugly in Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, poised to receive the highest honors.

All eyes turned to Alex, the weight of their decision pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"We can’t attack him now," Alex said firmly.

Karlach’s fists clenched as she drew in a deep, shaky breath, her rage barely contained. "Why?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

"Because of his Netherstone," Alex explained. "It gives him power over time. He can accelerate himself so much that everything around him appears frozen. What could we possibly do against that?" He hesitated for a moment before continuing, his tone heavy. "Even if I could match his speed with my psionic abilities, it’s not just about me. What if he lands a blow on one of you—Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll? The kind of blow he used on me ? "

The raw truth of his words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Karlach’s gaze dropped to the floor, her anger giving way to despair. Beside her, Wyll reached out and took her hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring.

"You’ll get your revenge, Karlach," Alex promised, his voice steady. "But not now. Not like this."

Karlach’s shoulders sagged as she nodded, reluctantly accepting the truth. She leaned into Wyll’s embrace, her fiery spirit momentarily subdued but not extinguished. They would wait. The time would come. And when it did, Gortash would pay for everything he had done.

Wyll’s voice broke the silence. "What about my father?" he asked, his tone heavy with concern. "It is said that he, too, will be present. This could prove an opportunity to save him."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I’ll go there and try to snatch him," he said, his voice firm. He looked around the table at his friends, his gaze lingering on Shadowheart. "Me and Shadow," he added.

Shadowheart’s grip on his hand tightened, her knuckles white. Alex turned to her, his eyes softening. "If things go sour, I’ll leave immediately," he promised. "No fighting."

Shadowheart’s lips trembled, but she nodded weakly, the fear in her eyes unmistakable.

Once breakfast was over, the group ascended to Dolor’s secret room in the attic. The dim light from a single lantern cast long shadows on the walls, the air thick with tension. Alex exchanged a meaningful look with his companions before laying out the plan one last time.

"I will teleport you to a place called Candulhallow's Tombstones," Alex explained, his tone steady. "From there, you’ll exit the fake shop and head to the Elfsong Tavern. Wait for me there."

The group nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and unease. "See you soon," Alex said, raising his hands. A soft glow emanated from his fingers as he began to cast the spell. Moments later, the room was empty, save for Alex.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Shadow, his loyal brawler, stood at his side, her presence a steadying force. Beside her, three figures cloaked in darkness materialized, wisps of smoke curling around their forms. They were death knights, once the guardians of the Murder Tribunal, now bound to Alex’s will, their menacing aura palpable.

The shadows around them trembled, swallowing the group whole. In an instant, Alex appeared atop a high tribune, cloaked in shadows that rendered him imperceptible. Before him stretched the grand chamber, its opulent architecture illuminated by flickering torchlight. The lower tribune was filled with nobles, their voices a hum of polite conversation, smiles masking the tension in the air.

Guards lined the hall, a mix of Flaming Fist soldiers and Steel Watchers, their imposing presence a reminder of the stakes. Alex’s gaze locked onto the head of the chamber where Gortash and Ravenguard stood. Ravenguard wore his usual silvery armor emblazoned with the Flaming Fist symbol, his posture rigid with duty. Gortash, by contrast, exuded arrogance, draped in extravagant clothes embroidered with gold, his every movement calculated.

Alex could feel it—the writhing presence of tadpoles in the minds of every person in the room. Including Gortash.

'This is a trap,' Alex thought, his mind racing. His gaze shifted upward, sensing a cluster of minds hidden above.

The shadows enveloped him again, carrying him to the most upper floor of Wyrm’s Rock Fortress. He clung to the ceiling of a grand, open hall, its splendor a stark contrast to the danger it concealed. Ornate furniture filled the space, and busts of Baldur’s Gate’s former rulers lined the walls, their stony gazes bearing witness to countless schemes.

At the center of the room stood the real Gortash, his posture relaxed as he spoke with an armored figure. The man had pale skin and wore hellish plate mail adorned with devilish motifs, a horned mask obscuring his face. Three more figures, clad in similar attire, flanked him. Their presence was foreboding, their allegiances clear—they were no Flaming Fist soldiers.

In each corner of the room, a Steel Watcher stood guard, scanning the room for threats. Gortash leaned back, his expression unreadable, and nodded as the masked man spoke. The weight of the moment pressed down on Alex as he clung to the shadows, every fiber of his being ready to act.

From Gortash's shadow, a dark spike erupted, impaling him through the chest. A second jagged spike followed, surging upward with lethal intent toward his gauntlet, where the Netherstone glimmered ominously. But the strike failed to pierce the enchanted metal, the spike shattering with a harsh, resonant crack that echoed in the chamber.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Gortash gasped, his face a grim tableau of shock and pain. His hands trembled before falling limp by his sides, blood beginning to spill and stain his ornate attire. For a fleeting moment, Alex allowed himself to hope—it might actually be over.

But it couldn’t have been so easy.

The Netherstone embedded in Gortash’s gauntlet flared, pulsating with a sinister, otherworldly light. The room was bathed in its glow, and a low hum filled the air, setting Alex's teeth on edge. Then, with a flash and a sickening ripple of energy, Gortash was gone.

"Shit," Alex thought, his mind racing. He had accelerated himself, pushing his psionic powers to the limit to keep up with Gortash’s time manipulation, but it wasn’t enough. He hadn’t even seen how Gortash escaped.

Alex shadowstepped, vanishing into the darkness.

Moments later, he reappeared in Candulhallow's Tombstones, Ravengard’s unconscious body draped across his arms. The connection between Ravengard’s tadpole and the Elder Brain had been severed, but something was wrong.

"This is a complete failure," Alex muttered under his breath. He looked down at the man he carried. At first glance, it appeared to be Ravengard, but closer inspection revealed the truth. This was not Ravengard. It was a decoy, a thrall whose appearance had been altered by the Elder Brain’s power.

Alex sighed deeply, his frustration mounting. Straightening up, he laid the decoy gently on the ground before stepping out of the shop.

The streets outside were alive with muted energy. He approached the Elfsong Tavern, its facade ,a small comfort. Circling the building, he found one of its entrances and stepped inside.

The tavern was bustling, its atmosphere a mix of raucous laughter and the clinking of mugs. The warm light from the fireplace illuminated a stuffed baby beholder mounted above it, the tavern’s odd yet iconic symbol. Alex glanced around, taking in the patrons enjoying their meals and drinks.

At a table near the corner, he spotted his friends, still disguised, deep in conversation. Their faces brightened as he approached, and he slid into an empty seat beside them.

"You’re fast," Astarion remarked, his tone light but curious. "How was it?"

Alex shook his head, his expression grim. "A failure," he admitted.

The table fell silent. "All the nobles present there..." Alex began, but then he stopped, tapping his temple instead. The meaning was clear. Many of the city’s nobles had been tadpoled.

"That’s bad," Wyll said, his voice heavy. His expression darkened, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

"Your father wasn’t there," Alex continued. "It was a decoy."

The muscles in Wyll’s jaw tightened as he processed the news. "We’ll find a way through this," Shadowheart said softly, wrapping her arms around Alex’s arm. Her warmth was a small comfort to him, and he managed a faint smile.

The conversation shifted, their words quieter, more measured. Alex eventually rose and headed to the counter to settle their bill.

Behind the counter stood a young half-elf man, his posture stiff and his expression troubled. Alex didn’t need to probe deeply to know the source of his discomfort. Upstairs, in one of the parlor rooms, Stelmane had been murdered. The air of unease surrounding the tavern was almost tangible.

Alex decided to break the tension. "Business going well?" he asked, his tone casual.

The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. "With all this talk of war, what else are folk to do but drink? Reckon the murder we had’s something to do with it, too. Got punters all intrigued. On that morbid note—what can I get for you?"

Alex leaned slightly closer. "I’m looking for a place to stay."

The man’s expression brightened slightly, a glimmer of opportunity crossing his face. "Tell you what—the murder upstairs has brought some punters, but it’s also scared folk off renting rooms. If you’re willing to stay up there, perhaps folk’ll calm down and realize there’s nowt to worry about. You can have the whole upstairs floor until this killing thing blows over… for 200 gold pieces."

Alex reached into his pouch, producing the gold without hesitation. The man’s gratitude was immediate. "The top floor’s yours," he said, a note of relief in his voice. "If it gets a bit noisy at night, well, don’t sleep above a pub."

The man smirked, clearly pleased with the transaction, while Alex pocketed the key and prepared to regroup with his companions.

Astarion's eyes sparkled as he took in their lavish surroundings. "This is so beautiful," he said, his voice full of awe.

Shadowheart nodded, her own gaze lingering on the intricate details of the space. "You can say that again," she said, marveling at the opulence.

The room was breathtaking. It was vast, so spacious it could easily accommodate twice their number. At its center, a sunken seating area featured three pairs of crimson couches arranged face-to-face, with luxurious animal furs and skins spread across the floor. A grand fireplace dominated one side, flanked by towering stacks of books. Behind it were four neatly arranged beds, their frames carved with ornate designs. To the left, another cluster of four beds surrounded a hookah sitting at the center of a cozy gathering space. On the right, five beds lined the walls, and in the far corner, a wooden bath stood invitingly, complete with soaps and aromatic oils.

"Finally, a proper place to sleep," Gale said, a rare smile breaking across his face.

Even Lae'zel, typically stoic, seemed pleased as her sharp eyes scanned the room with approval.

Lara and Lump quietly made their way to the left side of the room, choosing their beds with little fanfare. Seeing this, the rest of the party rushed to claim their spots, laughing and jostling as they did. Shadowheart seized Alex's hand and pulled him forward to ensure they would sleep next to each other.

Once everyone had settled, Alex addressed the group. "We’ll head out to meet Jaheira after I check on something."

Shadowheart’s brow furrowed. "Where are you going?" she asked, her tone tinged with concern.

"Alfira and Lakrissa are on the rooftop garden," Alex explained. "I want to see how they’re doing."

Astarion’s mischievous grin spread wide as he chimed in, "Oh, Alfira. That tiefling woman who seemed very close to you?"

Shadowheart’s expression darkened immediately, her grip tightening on Alex’s hand. "I’m coming with you," she declared firmly.

Alex sighed, throwing Astarion an exasperated glare. Astarion responded with a charming smile and a chuckle before making his way toward the bath.

Taking a side entrance, Alex and Shadowheart climbed a ladder to the roof. The garden was a serene oasis despite the ever-present fog enveloping the city. Flowers bloomed in carefully tended patches, trees swayed gently in the cool air, and vines crept along the walls, adding a touch of wild beauty to the structured space. Alex’s sharp senses had picked up a familiar scent earlier, confirming his suspicion that Alfira and Lakrissa would be here.

Ahead, Lakrissa stood behind Alfira, who leaned on the balcony, gazing at the street below. Their quiet conversation floated over the garden.

"How was your shift?" Alfira asked, her voice light but curious.

"Argh, some arsehole sent back his drink three times, so I spat in the last one," Lakrissa replied with a smug grin.

"Lakrissa!" Alfira exclaimed, spinning around—and freezing when she saw Alex and Shadowheart standing there.

"Come on, Alfira. He said it was delicious," Lakrissa added, oblivious to their presence until she followed Alfira’s wide-eyed gaze. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the pair.

Before anyone could react, Alfira rushed forward and threw her arms around Alex, hugging him tightly. Shadowheart’s dismay was palpable, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes narrowed.

"Nice to see you too, Alfira," Alex said warmly, his smile genuine—a gesture that only deepened Shadowheart’s sour mood.

Lakrissa stood awkwardly to the side, her usual confidence faltering under the tension in the air. Shadowheart’s grip on Alex’s arm tightened, and the air between the three women grew thick with unspoken feelings as Alex gently disentangled himself from the tiefling’s embrace.

Alex smiled warmly at Alfira, his gaze softening as he took in her determined expression. “How have you been doing? I take it you’re working at this tavern?”

Alfira nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “The pay isn’t the best, but it’s better than nothing. I’ve been working here as a bard, and Lakrissa helps out as a barmaid.” Her expression shifted, concern clouding her features. “But what about you? Everyone’s been worried, thinking something might’ve happened to you and your friends.”

Alex sighed, his thoughts momentarily distant. “We had a little adventure in the Feywild,” he began, offering a small smile. “And as you might know, time in that realm tends to be... unpredictable.”

Alfira and Lakrissa exchanged curious glances, their eyes sparkling with intrigue. “What happened there?” Alfira asked eagerly.

Seeing their interest, Alex relented, launching into the tale of their adventure at Anga Vled. He spoke of the pixie warlord, her illusions, and the surreal challenges of the Feywild, his words painting vivid pictures of danger and wonder.

“A pixie warlord,” Alfira murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Who would’ve thought?”

Alex chuckled. “Even after seeing it with my own eyes, it was hard to believe. She used magic to appear as a dark, horned figure, intimidating other Fey creatures into submission. It turned out some of them were her friends, reluctantly playing along.”

“And just a few hours there translated to a month here?” Lakrissa asked, her brows furrowing.

Alex nodded solemnly. “That’s the Feywild for you.”

“That’s... wild,” Lakrissa murmured, shaking her head in amazement.

“What about Elikka?” Alex asked. “Did she find work around here too?”

Alfira’s expression brightened slightly. “No, believe it or not, she chose to become a Harper. She’s been off somewhere with Jaheira and Zevlor. It’s been a while since we last spoke to her.”

As she spoke, Alfira’s gaze drifted to Alex, then to Shadowheart, her curiosity evident. After a moment of hesitation, she asked, “Are you two... together?”

Shadowheart tightened her grip on Alex’s arm slightly, her voice firm as she answered. “Yes, we are.”

Alfira’s lips curled into a warm smile. “Good for you. You seem lovely together.”

Alex returned the smile, sensing the tension ease in Shadowheart’s posture. “What about you two? How’s your relationship been?”

Lakrissa looped an arm around Alfira’s waist, the two exchanging a tender glance. “We’ve had our ups and downs,” Alfira admitted.

“But,” Lakrissa added, her voice softening, “recent events have only made our bond stronger.”

Shadowheart’s grip on Alex’s arm loosened further, her posture relaxing as she took in the affection between the two tieflings.

“Alfira’s been teaching children and others how to sing,” Lakrissa continued proudly. “She’s even planning to open a school once she’s saved enough money.”

Alfira flushed at the praise, her cheeks turning a soft crimson. “It’s just a dream for now,” she mumbled, looking away.

Alex smiled warmly at her, reaching into his cloak to retrieve a weighty pouch of gold. He held it out to Alfira, whose eyes widened in shock at the sight of the coins.

“Consider this a little investment in that dream,” Alex said with a gentle smile.

Alfira pushed the pouch back, shaking her head. “We can’t accept this.”

Alex gently took her hand, wrapping her fingers around the pouch. “You deserve it,” he said firmly, his voice carrying an unmistakable sincerity.

Tears welled in Alfira’s eyes as she stared at the pouch, her emotions threatening to spill over. Lakrissa stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her partner in a comforting embrace. “Thank you,” Alfira said, her voice trembling but filled with gratitude.

Alex nodded, turning away and heading back to the room they had reserved. At the entrance, Shadowheart stopped him, her expression conflicted.

“Was there ever... something between you and Alfira?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with vulnerability.

Alex shook his head, his eyes meeting hers. “We’re just friends,” he assured her. “Besides, Alfira isn’t interested in men.”

“Oh.” Shadowheart blinked, her expression softening. “That’s what I get for listening to Astarion’s teasing.”

She sighed, her fingers nervously brushing against Alex’s hand. “I’m sorry for being so protective. You’re my first love, and I’ve never felt like this before. It’s... terrifying. I feel like if I take my eyes off you, you might disappear.”

Alex stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “I might leave, but no matter what, I’ll always return to you,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Shadowheart held him tightly, her fears momentarily soothed by his words. After a few tender moments, they parted and pushed open the door to their room. Inside, their companions stood, armed and ready to meet with Jaheira, determination etched on every face.