This week we reprint one of the short stories written by Dave Gross for the Baldur's Gate: Enhanced Edition characters. These stories were originally posted on the Candlekeep Library. Enjoy the tale of Neera's time studying magic in the High Forest.
"Oh, my
aching noggin." Moth cradled his head as he slumped down the
great oak's winding ramp. His iridescent wings drooped.
"You should
know better than to drink so much nectar the night before class."
Pollae planted the foot of her oaken staff in the moss and raised a
fine elven eyebrow to look down at him.
Neera didn't
like the way Pollae used her height to belittle the pixie. At barely
over two feet high, Moth was small even for a sprite. He had spent
half the night flitting from bloom to bloom, sampling every
night-blossoming flower he could find.
Neera understood
the allure of spring. The same perfumes had tempted her outside to
tease the boys when she knew she should be studying. As a result,
Neera was also completely unprepared.
As usual.
"Lean over
the rail if you're going to throw up," said Binster.
"Don't say
'throw up'!" moaned Moth.
"Sorry.
Still, you can lean against the rail for support."
For a gnome,
Binster was depressingly practical about the most mundane things.
Unlike every normal person who looked out across the village and saw
vibrant leaves and blooming garlands, Binster saw only the utility of
the railing. With an imagination like that, Neera thought, Binster
would turn out to be a lousy illusionist. Still, the way he comforted
Moth gave her an idea.
"If you
time it right, Moth, you can hit that wagon." Neera pointed down
at an approaching haywain jigging and hopping over the roots below.
Its erratic motion made her feel queasy, and she hadn't had a drop of
nectar.
At the sight of
the careening wagon, Moth clutched his stomach and burbled.
"Stop it,
Neera," said Binster. "You know how suggestible he is."
"I'm not
just saying he's going to throw up. I'm saying when he does, it'll be
right on that wagon. In fact, I've got half a dozen faerie-lace
ribbons that agree with me." From her belt pouch she drew out
six shimmering lengths of gossamer, hand-woven by the tiniest
atomies. "Want to bet?"
"No,"
sniffed Pollae, but Neera saw the desire in her eyes. Pollae loved
faerie lace, and she was never one to back down from a challenge. She
was the best student in their magic class, and she never missed a
chance to remind the others of that fact. Pollae eyed Moth. "How're
you feeling?"
"Better,"
said the sprite. His cerulean eyes had lost some of their luster, but
he was no longer puffing his cheeks like a landed carp.
Pollae turned on
Neera with a savage smile. "You're on."
"My faerie
lace against that old staff of yours."
What? This was
my grandfather's!"
"Steady on,
Moth." Binster knelt beside the sprite and patted him on the
back.
"Don't
jostle him!" Pollae and Neera cried in unison.
Moth opened his
mouth to say something, but only a golden bubble emerged.
"Very well,
your lace against my staff," said Pollae. "But neither of
us can touch him or use any magic."
"Agreed."
Pollae turned to
Moth. "Close your eyes. Don't look down. You aren't going to
throw up."
"Don't say
'throw up,'" said Binster.
"He doesn't
have to look down to know he's going to throw up," said Neera.
The wagon drew closer. "Moth can hear as well as we can just how
wobbly that wagon is, rattling over every pothole in the path,
throwing up stones with every lurch. Why, the sound itself is enough
to make you-"
Repetition
wasn't working. Neera chanted in desperation: "Barf, vomit,
hurl, gag, cast a color spray, sick up, spew-"
A glittering
stream of pixie puke arced down on the haywain.
"Bull's
eye!"
By the time
Neera had claimed her prize, soothed the angry driver, helped clean
up Moth, and dashed across the village, the other students-all of
them young elves-had already assembled.
Unlike most of
the village tree-chambers, the classroom stood only a few feet above
the forest floor. A domed roof sheltering it from rain, but all the
shutters had been removed, leaving it open to the breeze except where
it abutted one of the giant oaks for which the High Forest was
famous.
The teacher
whisked his tail as the latecomers rushed up the ramp. After glancing
at the others, especially Moth, who hung on to Binster for dear life,
his gaze came to rest on Neera. The centaur quirked a shaggy eyebrow
at the sight of Pollae's staff nestled in the crook of Neera's arm.
"Late again."
"Not my
fault," said Neera.
Frixis stared at
Neera as if she'd just confessed to a crime. His fingers idly touched
the beads braided into his magnificent green beard. He was the
hairiest centaur anyone in the High Forest had ever seen. It was
impossible to see where his beard ended and his chest hair began. He
had never approved of Neera's sense of whimsy nor her peculiar
approach to magic.
Centaurs were
not known for their skills at arcane magic. Through relentless
discipline, Frixis had achieved such skill that the elves of
Highbough made him the instructor for their magic school. When Neera
had first applied, she impressed the centaur by demonstrating great
natural potential, but none of his discipline. She had only
disappointed him ever since.
Neera didn't see
magic the way Frixis did. She understood the mechanical aspects of
casting a spell-the words to speak, the gestures to make, even the
physical materials (nasty as some were) necessary to call the magic
from its source-but she felt deep in her being that much of the
rigmarole was unnecessary. Studying all of the theory and history of
magic was like reading a book to learn how to dance. The way Neera
saw it, either you could dance or you couldn't. Likewise, either you
were a mage or you weren't, and no amount of studying would change
that.
Still peering at
Neera, Frixis said, "Which of you wishes to demonstrate your new
spell for the class?"
Neera wished she
had prepared an invisibility spell to vanish from sight, but the
centaur kept staring straight at her. Fortunately, to either side of
Neera, her friends threw up their hands.
Pollae and
Binster were always the first to volunteer, and both were always
prepared. Neera was sure the gnome had gotten that seam on the tip of
his long nose by sticking it too deep into his books. "Very
well," sighed Frixis. "Pollae first."
Binster sighed
his disappointment, which only encouraged Pollae. "Perhaps it
would be nice to have a well-mannered gnome in class, for a change."
She faltered for
an instant as she moved to gesture with the staff she had lost in the
bet. It would be a lot harder to look down at Neera after that
defeat. Pollae performed the gestures by hand, spoke the words, and
with a glimmer appeared to transform into an exact duplicate of
Binster. To complete the illusion, she mimicked his heavy sigh.
Laughter from
the other students rewarded her effort.
Binster snorted.
"That's nothing. I can do twice as well." With a two-handed
gesture and a few arcane words whistling out of the gap between his
front teeth, he caused his own image to shudder and divide into
several duplicates. Each stepped away from him until four identical
Binsters stood with their hands on hips, smug smiles returning
Pollae's scowl. They said in unison, "Four! Four times more
gnome!"
Again the other
students laughed. Frixis nodded his approval. "Now, who will be
next?"
Moth's wings
perked up. "Those are just illusions," he said. With a few
arcane words of his own, the pixie grew taller, his wings shrinking
into his body as his flesh and clothing changed shape until they
matched Binster's features exactly. "This is a real
transformation."
"Very good,
Moth," said Frixis. "Now, Neera-"
"I didn't
know we were doing illusions," she complained. Fire and
lightning were more her style, any form of energy she could evoke
from the raw fount of magic.
Frixis stamped a
hoof on the hard oak floor of the classroom. Amplified by the domed
roof, the sound echoed off the nearest tree-houses. From the nearest
buildings, elven laughter replied to the centaur's familiar gesture
of impatience with a recalcitrant student.
"If I
must," huffed Neera.
"Take
cover, everybody!" cried Darvoth. "Neera's going to cast a
spell!"
The pathetic
thing was that everybody laughed, which Darvoth had been making ever
since that first time Neera's concentration wavered and a surge of
wild energy turned what should have been a simple levitation into a
flock of sparrows who whitened the entire classroom in their fright.
Neera showed
Darvoth her teeth. He wasn't even handsome compared to some of the
other young elves. She liked him better when he'd been one of the
boys fetching her flowers last night. Maybe making fun of her was his
revenge for her sending him after buds she knew would not bloom for
weeks yet. Or maybe he was just a jerk.
"Now,
Neera," insisted Frixis.
As she raised
her hands to make the opening gestures, Frixis shook his head at her
and raised his own to show her the correct position. "Think,"
he said. "Focus, visualize the runes you studied."
That would be
much more help if she had actually studied, Neera thought. She didn't
understand why it was so important to do things exactly so. Why
wasn't there any room for improvisation, for her natural talent to
come out? Master Frixis's corrections made her feel exactly the same
way as when her writing teachers forced her to use her right hand
instead of her left.
"Ffffppppttttt!"
Neera whipped
her head around to see the origin of the rude sound. She imagined
Binster blowing a raspberry behind her back, but the six gnomes-one
polymorphed pixie, one illusion-shrouded elf, and four reflections of
the original, all stared back at her, mouths agape.
Just as her
fellow students' laughter erupted louder than ever before, Neera
realized the sound was that of her own spell fizzling.
All of the
others in the classroom slapped their thighs, pounded on their
neighbors' backs, or rolled on the floor. You'd imagine they had had
never seen something so hilarious, thought Neera. She was the only
one who didn't find it amusing, or so she thought until she saw
Master Frixis shaking his head at her, his broad face a study in
disappointment.
"Perhaps it
is best that you go home, Neera."
Frixis had sent
a student home from class only once before. Later he'd gone to the
boy's parents and counseled them to devote his energies elsewhere:
farming, hunting, woodcarving, perhaps. He was not destined to be a
mage.
"No, I can
do it," said Neera. "Maybe not the image of a gnome, but-
Here, look!"
"Neera,
don't."
She hastened
through the gestures to call up an image of a fiery gnome above her
palms. She felt the arcane energies respond to her will as much as to
her gestures. This was more like it-the natural evocation of magic
from its very source, not the careful teasing out of its threads for
a spell practiced by thousands of other casters over the centuries. A
brilliant orange flame blossomed in Neera's hands. She could even
feel the heat of the illusion. This was no meager cantrip. This was
real magic.
"Neera,
look out!" cried one of the Binsters. He transformed back into
the form of Moth even as he leaped away, pixie wings limned in fire.
"No! It was
only supposed to be the illusion of fire!"
The flaming ball
leaped from Neera's hands as if offended by her words.
"Stop!"
she cried, feeling foolish even as she spoke. She focused her will on
the flame, trying to control its motion with her thoughts.
Frixis flung a
ray of frost at Moth, extinguishing the flames on the pixie's wings
but sending the poor fey to the classroom floor, teeth chattering
with cold.
The screams of
young elves filled the classroom as students dashed away from the
uncontrolled ball of fire. Only Darvoth stood still, his wide eyes
locked on Neera as the fiery sphere rolled toward him. "Don't,
Neera," he said. "I'm sorry I laughed at you."
"I'm not
doing it. I didn't mean-!"
Frixis charged
in to scoop up the terrified Darvoth, but he was too late. Even as
the centaur reached out his arms, Neera's conjured ball of flame
engulfed the boy. Darvoth screamed and turned to run. He made it
almost to the edge of the classroom before Frixis knocked him over
the edge onto the grass, shouting, "Roll it off! Roll it off!"
"What have
you done!?" Pollae screamed at Neera. In her anger, she allowed
the illusion to fall away, and the angry young gnome became an angry
young elf.
"I didn't
mean it!"
"You never
pay attention," the four remaining Binsters scolded her. "Now
look what you've done!"
"That's
not- I didn't mean- Oh, I hate you all!" Neera raised the staff
she had won from Pollae, wanting desperately to hit someone. Pollae
and the Binsters flinched and stepped back. When she saw the fear on
their faces, Neera felt horrified-not by her friends, not by the
situation, but by herself.
Tears on her
face, she turned and ran away.
Posts
We
have a number of great sales coming up this month. First of all,
we've arranged to provide our games through Bundle Stars and they're kicking off our
partnership with an incredible 70% off sale. This sale
(Baldur's Gate: Enhanced Edition, Baldur's Gate II: Enhanced Edition,
and Icewind Dale: Enhanced Edition) is for two days only (December
15-16) for the Steam version of our games. That's early enough to
make for a great holiday gift!
One of our goals as a company for 2016 is to attend more conventions. Beamdog has reached a place where we're able to go out into the community, support local conventions, and meet our fans one on one. Our first convention this year was the Edmonton Expo. We didn't have a booth, but our artists and writers showed up to speak on panels, display their work, and hand out some swag for the upcoming Siege of Dragonspear!
This Friday, in lieu of our D&D game (which is temporarily on hold), we'll be streaming a Beamdog office game of 
