Warning – fangirling ahead! Simply because I know damn well that I would do exactly the same as Jen if I was presented with Valen cleaning his armour in front of me, no matter how horrible he had been to me… (sheepish grin)
Chapter 14 – Bridges
Now that the watch rota had been sorted, the small party settled down to relax as much as they could in the relatively restricted space that had been afforded to them. Once they were as comfortable as possible, food rations were prepared and handed around, consisting mainly of dried strips of rothe jerky, a curiously fragrant flat bread, dried mushrooms that were duly soaked in a small pot of water to make them more palatable, lumps of a hard cheese made from rothe milk and half a dozen fruits that looked for all the world like apples, if apples were deep purple in colour and smelt vaguely of honey.
They ate in relative silence, only commenting to pass makeshift plates made out of flat rocks and the little crockery they had brought with them – mainly wooden bowls fashioned out of the immense stems of a tree-sized fungus. Once they had all eaten, Nathyrra took a small tin kettle from her pack and heated some water, in which she steeped some kind of dried lichen; it smelt a little musty, but tasted as close to tea as Jen could have hoped. Having eaten, Rizonym and Tsabandiir then stood up and made their way to the cavern entrance, leaving the rest of the party to clear away their meagre meal and settle down to rest.
For the first time in a while, Jen found the perpetual darkness she was currently living in quite disturbing, mainly because she currently had no idea what time it actually was; it could have been midday on the surface for all she knew, but here she felt like she was preparing for night. The others, however, seemed to hold no such worries, and soon they were all sitting or lying down on their various bedrolls to either tend to the maintenance of their weaponry or simply to take the opportunity to close their eyes and relax in relative safety. Taking their lead, Jen sat on her own bedroll that she had set up in one corner of the cave, drew Enserric from its scabbard – Nathyrra having returned the weapon to her earlier on – and rummaged in her backpack for her whetstone and a soft cloth. At first, the sword began its usual persistent demands for the blood of the various beings that shared the cavern with her, but as soon as she began to drag the whetstone along its edge, the blade quietened down, its demands soon transforming into something that the rogue could only think of as a curious mental purr. Jen always got the feeling that the weapon liked to be maintained this way simply due to the sense of self satisfaction it projected on to her during these periods, and whilst it had once vaguely disturbed her that for all intents and purposes she was stroking the sword in what could be considered a rather intimate way, she had decided a long time ago that is was easier to forget that the consciousness dwelling inside the blade had once been a man and instead treated it as if it was an especially intelligent, if demanding, cat.
After only a short while, Jen's concentration was broken by a soft clanking noise in front of her. Looking up to find the source, she was greeted by the sight of Valen going through the ritual of removing his armour. This seemed to be a major undertaking for him, and for a long moment, she simply watched him unbuckle various hidden straps with a practised hand before dropping each individual section to the ground one by one: first greaves, then bracers, shoulder guards next and finally, breastplate. Since she herself had never worn such complicated-looking armour in her life, the way the suit was constructed and fastened to his body fascinated her; realising she was now almost staring, the half elf dropped her eyes in embarrassment and tried to refocus her attention back to cleaning her sword, but her good intentions were soon compromised upon hearing the soft chink of chainmail hitting the floor; seemingly unable to help herself, she couldn't help but look up once more.
The tiefling had now sat himself cross-legged upon his heavily patched bedroll, clad only in a light woollen vest and leather breeches, his tail curled primly around him. Stretching forwards, he pulled his breastplate into his lap; on the floor near his right foot was the tin he had extricated from his backpack earlier - Jen now guessed it was some kind of polish - and in his left hand was a cloth, which he briefly dipped into the tin. Then, with a look of fierce concentration upon his face, he carefully applied the cloth to the metal and began to rub it clean with firm, steady, circular strokes. Occasionally he would come across what was obviously a more stubborn piece of dirt and the pace in which he rubbed at the metal would increase accordingly, but once he was satisfied that he had successfully removed the offending grime, he would return back to the almost hypnotically slow, circular movements of before.
Without realising she was doing it, Jen cocked her head to one side, captivated as she watched his hands caress the metal, her eyes half-lidded in an unconscious attempt at not being spotted doing so. She didn't know how long she watched, mesmerised by the hypnotic, rhythmic movement of his hands, her concentration only broken when he stopped his cleaning to dip his cloth once again into the tin of polish. Rather than refocus back on the maintenance of her own sword, however, she allowed her surreptitious gaze to travel up from his hands to his face, and the half elf found herself studying the tiefling properly for the first time since they had met.
As the meagre glow from their makeshift firepit glinted softly off the flat, lean planes of his face, Jen found to her surprise that the Weapon Master was clearly younger than she had originally thought; before, she had been unable to see past his disdainful glares and aggressive stance, but now he was concentrating upon something else other than his obvious scorn for her, he had for all intents and purposes let his guard down, which allowed the half elf to catch a glimpse of the man beneath the carefully constructed hostile façade. What surprised her even more was that she found he was not unpleasant to look upon – handsome, even – and that any ugliness she may have originally seen in him came purely from his attitude towards her. He was obviously putting a lot of effort into his task, because a thin trickle of sweat beaded on his forehead as he continued his task, seemingly oblivious to the half elf's scrutiny; she contemplated the droplet's progress for a moment as it tracked a lazy path down the contours of his face before the tiefling absent-mindedly wiped it away with the back his forearm. Now leaning forwards slightly, Jen brought her hand to her face without thinking and rested her chin in one cupped hand whilst she absent-mindedly caressed her slightly parted lips slowly with one soft finger, her expression a curious mixture of confusion and interest as her attention slid to the play of light over the curves of his well - but not overly - muscled arms and shoulders.
Catching flies, are we?
The imperious, tinny mental voice of Enserric cut through her musings like a warm knife through butter, causing the rogue to blush and snap her mouth shut before glancing around herself, hoping no one else had noticed her scrutiny of the tiefling. She then picked up the once-forgotten blade from her lap and began cleaning it with renewed vigour; from the safe confines of her head, she answered the sword, her mental tone defensive.
No – of course not! I was... I... I'm tired, that's all.
Of course. Tired. Not that you were neglecting to pay attention to me so you could admire that infernal Outsider at all. The sword's tone then slid to smug superiority at having rattled its owner. I told you they were tricky, but would you listen to me?
I was not admiring! Jen retorted back. I was just... watching. I never took the chance to really see what he was before, other than a pair of crossed arms and a disapproving glare. That's all.
And I suppose the way the light catches those rippling muscles is just a happy bonus, hmmm? the sword taunted her, its tone now unmistakeably self-satisfied. You forget – you were holding me, and so I can hear your thoughts.
No you can't! Jen answered quickly, feeling the blush that had crept across her cheeks deepen uncomfortably. I have practised enough to keep you out of my head! You're just trying to tease me...
You keep believing that, if it makes you feel better, Enserric retorted back, its amusement at her discomfiture now completely apparent. Lie to me all you want, but you really shouldn't lie to yourself, you know...
Feeling her anger rising at the sword's ability to discompose her in such a way, she dropped the weapon back into her lap and groped to one side for its scabbard; finding it, she then picked Enserric back up again and slid it home, ignoring its protests that it didn't feel clean enough to be put back just yet, before glancing guiltily back up at Valen. To her relief, his attention was still firmly upon his armour, and counting her lucky stars that he had not noticed any of her attention and subsequent discomfiture, Jen then lay down on her bedroll, her back deliberately to him, and tried to get some sleep.
o0o
The light is different… a real fire. Why can't I move? And who is this before me? A drow? Haughty…cruel… yet beautiful. Is this... amusement I feel? Amusement for what?
"Whoever she is, I want her stopped!"
She's speaking drow… but I don't understand drow. How come I can understand her?
"Indeed, Valsharess…"
Valsharess! This is the Valsharess? How is this possible? Where... who… am I?
And why does all of this amuse me?
"Then find her!"
A deep sense of self satisfaction again…tinged with anger this time, though. How dare she think herself above me?
"I… cannot, Valsharess. Her way has been… hidden from me."
"How can that be?! Are you not Mephistopheles? How is that beyond your scope?"
Ahhh, fury. Stupid, arrogant mortal. Fury I can use. All in good time…
"She has… protection."
"Protection?! Protection from whom?"
Unsure. She has gained favour of a powerful force… but who – or what…
"Answer me!"
Anger. Suppressed fury. Just wait until the time is nigh – my freedom from this bondage means your death, little mortal. One way or another, by my hand or hers, you die…
o0o
"Jenalil…"
Feeling a soft shove to her shoulder, the half elf awoke with a violent start and instinctively dug under the backpack she was using as a makeshift pillow for her dagger, a feeling of acute confusion threatening to overwhelm her. Panicking slightly that she had not placed a readily available weapon under her improvised headrest, she fought to focus upon the person who had awoken her and shake off the nagging feeling that she was somewhere – and someone – else entirely. Blinking rapidly, the unsettling sensation slowly bled away when she realised that she had been dreaming, and peering up, she could now see that it was a familiar face who was crouched beside her.
"Are you awake? It is our turn to watch," Valen enquired curtly, and without waiting to see if she was following, stood up and made his way to the cavern entrance. Picking herself up from the floor, Jen stretched briefly at an attempt to work out the kinks in her back, noticing as she did so that Tsabandiir and Rizonym had returned to the quiet sanctuary of the cave and were settling themselves down onto their bedrolls, conversing quietly in drow. Bending over, the half elf reached down, retrieved Enserric and buckled the sword to her hip before following the tiefling out of the narrow cave entrance, all the while being careful not to tread on any of the slumbering drow around her, whilst the two now silent drow males watched her from the shadows.
Exiting the cavern, she found the Weapon Master silently surveying the area in front of them, his face a picture of concentration. Following his lead, she did the same, but upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she looked briefly to the warrior, a quizzical look upon her face.
Seemingly satisfied that no one was about to leap out upon them and that Rizonym and Tsabandiir had actually done their job properly as opposed to bringing the armies of the Valsharess in their entirety upon them, Valen nodded with a soft grunt before leaving the edge of the scree once more. He then left the half elf's side and, making himself comfortable against one of the boulders that littered the cave entrance with Devil's Bane across his knees, he regarded Jen silently with barely veiled contempt.
Sighing inwardly, Jen decided that she wasn't going to follow and sit with him after all; she had hoped that she could take advantage of this situation to build a few bridges with the obstinate tiefling, but from his expression alone, she guessed that he had obviously arranged for them to watch together simply so that he could keep an eye on her and therefore assuage his own sense of paranoia that she would betray them all in some way. Resigning herself to a particularly long and uncomfortable watch (especially when she took into consideration her earlier, rather unbecoming interest in him), she made her way to another boulder the other side of the small plateau they currently inhabited and sank to the floor, deciding to try to analyse what she remembered of the dream she had just had rather than devote any more time and effort to the Weapon Master.
In all truth, she could only remember snippets of the dream, but one thing stood out to her – somehow, her mind had conjured up the Valsharess… at least, she thought it was her mind; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake that niggling feeling that she had witnessed an actual exchange between the drow queen and persons unknown.
Mephistopheles…
The name came to her in a flash, causing her to snap her head up and frown. Where did that name come from? And why did she feel as if she had heard that name before? Shrugging her shoulders slightly, she decided that it was all down to the strange, déjà vu-like quality of the dream, and whilst she wouldn't dismiss it entirely, it probably wasn't worth worrying about.
Probably.
She tried harder for a long while to try to remember any more of the dream, but rather than anything coherent, she could only conjure vague feelings of smug satisfaction mixed with abject, all encompassing anger; giving it up as a bad job, Jen sighed heavily and stared moodily out over the scree in front of her.
o0o
Valen had already been awake when Tsabandiir crept silently back into the cave to awaken him for his watch – truth was, he hadn't really slept, just dozed enough to keep exhaustion at bay. He knew he couldn't keep this up – he would have to sleep properly at some point, but for now, apart from Nathyrra, he was surrounded by people he didn't particularly trust, and that was enough to prevent him from truly finding sleep.
He had nodded silently to Tsabandiir as the drow male moved closer; seeing that the tiefling was already awake, the drow cleric had simply inclined his head in return and then left to retrieve his mate who was still guarding the cave entrance, whilst Valen has donned his armour as quickly and quietly as he could. Once he had done this, he then stepped carefully over to where the half elf was sleeping – and by the looks of her twitching, dreaming – and crouched down beside her.
For reasons unknown even to himself, the tiefling had not shaken her awake straight away; instead, he watched her for a moment. She was undoubtedly in the throes of a rather vivid dream, because as he watched, her eyes had flickered open a few times and she had twitched almost convulsively as she muttered something under her breath. Leaning in closer so he could try to make out what it was she was saying, he had been surprised to discover that she seemed to be talking in drow, a language that he thought she had little to no knowledge of; he had then tried to make sense of what she was actually saying, but that had proven to be something the tiefling could not quite make out. Shaking his head, he had then stretched out a hand and almost gingerly touched her shoulder, calling her name softly as he did so, trying to wake her as gently as possible.
It had taken a few attempts to get her to surface from her dream-world, and when she had done, it had been with a distinct level of violence. This had rocked the Weapon Master back onto his heels briefly as he remembered her boast from earlier that she always concealed a good dagger underneath her pillow; however, it seemed that she had forgotten to do so in this instance, and so he had simply stood up and left her to orientate herself and join him outside in her own time.
Upon leaving the confines of the cavern, Valen out of sheer habit spent a few moments surveying the immediate area for any possible threats. After a few moments, he had heard soft footfalls behind him, heralding the arrival of the half elf, but he did not turn around to greet her - exactly why, though, he couldn't quite say.
Stepping up to his side, the rogue had copied him in his scrutiny of the surroundings; seeing nothing, she had looked at him with one eyebrow raised in a silent question. To this, he had simply nodded, momentarily unsure of what to say; he had never been a great conversationalist, and so rather than drag out an awkward moment, he decided to leave the edge of the scree and make himself comfortable in preparation for the next few hours ahead.
Rather than follow him, though, Jenalil had simply watched; feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he had simply stared back at her, unsure of exactly what she wanted of him. It was then that she had given him a little, hurt look, and after turning away, had made herself comfortable against a boulder as far away from him as possible.
Shaking his head imperceptibly, he sighed to himself. Obviously she was still smarting over his harsh words from before. He had hoped that his assistance in climbing the scree would have been enough of an apology for her to realise that he did not want her to fail; obviously, this was not the case. Feeling a familiar flicker of resentment ignite deep within him, he dropped Devil's Bane from his lap and, laying his weapon upon the ground beside him, drew his legs up so that he could rest his forearms upon this knees and glower at her over the top of them, almost like a barricade.
Damn the wench! Why did it matter what she thought? And why did it bother him so much? He had known her barely a day... a day in which she had usurped him of everything. By rights, he should hate her! Instead, he found himself feeling bad about hurting her feelings and, even more worryingly, being inexplicably drawn to her, although exactly why was anyone's guess. Taking a few minutes to regard her from under his scowling brow, he tried to fathom what it was that made her so special, but simply couldn't. Half his height and probably a third of his weight, she wasn't particularly threatening, nor was she an obviously natural born leader; she doubted herself too much, and was altogether too trusting for his liking. And whilst undoubtedly comely, she was hardly the dark, knowing beauty that haunted the more fevered and decidedly debauched recesses of his imagination. As a fighter she was in his opinion merely adequate - graceful, yes, but lacking in the sheer raw power that made a truly spectacular warrior...
... and yet, she had that very same day ambushed – and fought - him willingly and with no real indications of fear, showing a sense of courage – and possibly recklessness – that he could at the very least appreciate.
And the Seer believed in her.
Resting his chin upon his forearms, he sighed ruefully and allowed the scowl to slip from his face as he continued to watch her, now more with curiosity than any real sense of malice. Glancing around himself to ensure that no one had woken up and decided to join them undertake their watch, he knew instinctively what he had to do; standing up with Devil's Bane in one hand, the tiefling then made his way hesitantly over to where the half elf was sitting.
o0o
Engrossed as she was with trying to remember her dream and getting more and more frustrated as the details slipped out of her grasp, Jen didn't immediately notice the tiefling approach her; indeed, it wasn't until he sat next to her, causing her to jump a little in surprise, that she realised he had left his spot and made his way over to her. Unsure as to why he had decided join her, but expecting some kind of chastisement for not concentrating and allowing him to creep up on her the way he had done, she steeled herself against yet more disapproval; however, to her further surprise, it did not happen.
Glancing up at Valen, the half elf saw that the tiefling was not looking at her; instead, he was gazing over the scree with an impassive expression on his face. Fully expecting him to turn tail and leave as soon as he had checked up on her ability to actually do her job properly, he surprised her once again when, rather than leaving, he sat down heavily next to her without saying a word.
For a long while, the rogue and the Weapon Master sat side by side, neither one of them even attempting to acknowledge the other's existence, but each one acutely aware the uncomfortable tension that was growing between them nonetheless. Jen, who was unused to basically ignoring people sat right next to her, considered trying to spark up a conversation a couple of times, simply to put an end to the now deafening silence that was between them, but each time went to open her mouth, something stopped her from forming the right words; she even considered just standing up and leaving, but what ever it was that inexplicably hung between them stopped her.
They sat like that for what felt like an age until Valen decided to reach into his beltpouch and drew out a small pewter flask. Unscrewing the top, he took a small swig from it before offering it wordlessly to Jen; glancing over at him, she regarded his stoic profile before accepting it without a word – if he wasn't willing to break the silence, then neither was she. Bringing the canteen to her lips, she took a small swallow and consequently nearly choked on the fiery liquid contained within.
"The drow make it," Valen commented in a low, deadpan voice, still refusing to look at her directly. "Normally, I don't condone its usage and would definitely punish anyone caught drinking it on watch, but I thought that after the day we've had today..." he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders.
Jen didn't really know how to reply to this comment, unsure of exactly what he meant it, but after her other dealings with the tiefling, she had to admit that she was absolutely sure it was in some way as a barb aimed at her.
"Oh."
She offered the canteen back to him.
"Thank you."
The tiefling accepted it back without another word and took another swallow, grimacing slightly as he did so before offering it back to Jen again.
Unsure of what his goal was in all of this, the half elf hesitated in taking the flask again, an action which eventually forced Valen to look at her for the first time since he had sat down next to her. At her apparent refusal, the tiefling cocked an eyebrow.
"It's okay. I'm not going to discipline you for drinking on duty." As if to prove his point, he took another swallow. "Anyway, you're in charge now. If anything, you should be disciplining me."
Although he had obviously intended his comment as an attempt at levity, there was an unmistakeable edge of bitterness to Valen's voice that only served to make Jen wince inwardly. At her silence, the tiefling then looked away again, this time in embarrassment.
"That was supposed to be a joke..."
Now feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Jen just nodded and turned her attention to her fingernails, unsure of what to say next. Once again, the two of them sat in silence, carefully making sure they weren't meeting the other's eyes in any way possible, until the rogue felt a soft nudge to her right arm; glancing around at the Weapon Master again, she found him offering her the flask once more; this time, however, she got the distinct feeling that he was being genuine in his gesture rather than using it as a kind of test, and so accepted it was a small smile of thanks. It was a small smile that Valen found himself involuntarily echoing, and so rather than instantly looking away, the tiefling watched her as she took another sip.
This time, Jen was expecting the liquor's fiery bite and so managed to to swallow without the need to cough; as the warmth of the liquid seeped through her body she felt herself relax a little, and the silence that had now reasserted itself between them, whilst not exactly comfortable, somehow felt a little more companionable than before.
After this last exchange of the canteen, Valen sighed ruefully and tucked it back in to is beltpouch.
"Not much left and I don't know when I'll get any more." He offered Jen a curious half smile. "Imloth gets it for me – if the troops knew..."
"I can imagine," Jen replied, with a smile of her own. "'Do as I say, not as I do' and all of that..."
At this, the tiefling only nodded, but it held an air of amusement rather than annoyance at her comment.
The silence returned once again.
"... It must..." Jen started, before stopping with a slight blush.
Valen turned his head to regard her once more. "It must what?"
It was Jen's turn to shake her head. "Nothing. Forget it."
The tiefling narrowed his ice-blue eyes at her. "No... what were you going to say?"
Now feeling slightly trapped, Jen shrugged her shoulders nervously.
"I was just thinking out loud. That's all."
"Oh." His narrowed eyes took on more mischievous cast. "In that case, what 'must'?"
Jen felt her blush deepen slightly. "It's nothing!"
"Indeed..."
Jen sighed and rolled her eyes in resignation. "Okay... I was just going to say that it... it must get pretty, well, lonely, being the one in charge all the time, unable to join in with the troops and always having to be the one issuing orders..."
Immediately, whatever rapport that the two of them had tentatively built up evaporated away to virtually nothing as Valen's face clouded over and hardened once again. Cursing herself, Jen wished she could take the question back and pretend it had never been asked in the first place, but it was too late; standing up with Devil's Bane in one hand, Valen began to make his way back to the cave entrance.
"Probably time to wake up the next watch," he commented curtly, without turning around. "I think we've been out here long enough."
Nodding dumbly, Jen stood up with a small sigh. She considered apologising, but deep down she knew it was futile... and anyway, why should she apologise? She hadn't done anything wrong, after all. Straightening up, the half elf flipped her braid back over her shoulder in a gesture of sudden defiance and began to make her own way to the cave entrance, determined to ignore the unpredictably irascible Weapon Master who now stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest. Refusing to be intimidated by him, she walked right up to him and, crossing her own arms over her chest, mirrored his body language right down to the slight scowl on his face in a wordless demand for him to move and let her through.
They stood, staring at one another for while before Valen relented; unfolding his arms, he stepped to one side and allowed her room to enter the cave. Feeling slightly triumphant at his apparent deference to her, she unfolded her own arms and strode past him, only for him to catch her lightly on the shoulder. Her immediate instinct was to pull back and snatch herself away from him, but instead, she forced herself to stop and, turning her head, simply regarded him with cold fury. To her surprise, however, his expression did not mirror hers – if anything, he looked surprisingly awkward and contrite.
"Earlier today... that drow... the ring you took from her... I should... I should never have..." he shook his head and sighed heavily. "You were not to know. I realise this, and I wanted you to know that."
With that, he let go of her arm and ducked through the cave entrance before she could say anything.
For a second, Jen simply stood there, stunned, before she found her voice again and called out to him as loudly as she dared.
"Valen!"
The retreating figure in front of her paused for a moment, but did not turn around.
Hugging her arms around herself, the rogue ducked through the cave entrance to stand beside the warrior. Then, reaching out with one hand, she touched him lightly upon the forearm.
"Apology accepted."
For a long moment, Valen just stared at her hand upon his arm before glancing up and nodding. He held her soft hazel eyes with his ice blue ones for a moment longer and then, without saying another word, pulled himself away from her and went to awaken the next watch.