(Here it is, Chapter Four. I'm disappointed that many of the people who reviewed before didn't review the last chapter, but because some kind individuals did, I'm posting this chapter anyway. Next chapter, the PC is introduced and the story really starts to take off I won't let ANYONE kill Deekin, I promise.. Please enjoy this chapter, and rememebr to keep reviewing--I can't write without reviews, you know.

Note: For those who aren't in the know, a paladin is like a knight, but devoted to their god and doing good.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own anything.)

Dependence I: Heartsinger

Chapter Four

The kobolds had been trapped in that small room of the crypt for some time now. In that lapse of time, they had pushed several old crates into the center of the room. Appointing two other kobolds to be his guards and stand at his sides, Urko situated himself in the middle of the half-square the crates formed and declared it his throne. Deekin supposed this was Urko's method of dealing with stress, and Urko was very stressed right then, especially after discovering they'd lost the mask and the dragon tooth in the gnoll battle.

The kobolds flanking Urko were a female kobold called Yazka and a male kobold called Kipper, so named for his odd habit of kipping instead of yipping. Deekin, of course, didn't yip or kip at all. Long ago, when Deekin was new to living in Tymofarrar's den, the dragon had blatantly stated that if Deekin yipped one more time, there would be one more headless kobold in the world, which had quickly cured him of producing any such noises. By now, Deekin was glad he didn't yip, and looked down on the others a little for doing so. After all, great heroes didn't yap like dogs.

Under Urko's command, the kobolds made themselves a miniscule society. A crack in one wall leaked fresh groundwater for them to drink, and several large rats had sneaked in only to be killed and turned into kobold food. These rations were adequate for their much diminished numbers; Deekin estimated they had started out with perhaps one hundred kobolds, but now he only counted seventeen. Thinking about this and other things, Deekin got out his writing supplies and started to chronicle all that had happened since he last wrote. For all the panic and danger, at least he was still alive, and it was something to write about. Tymofarrar had a cruel sense of humor, so he'd most likely enjoy reading about it.

Deekin paused mid-sentence to ponder about the gnolls. They had mentioned the tower statue being part of Tymofarrar's deal with J'Nah...were the gnolls lying, or had the Boss broken his bargain? Deekin wouldn't put it past him; Tymofarrar had little respect for non-dragons. It really didn't matter...what was done was done, he hoped.

His thoughts were interrupted when a thin, scaly finger jabbed him in the shoulder.

"You needs something?" Deekin asked politely, though he disliked being prodded. The kobold who had poked him was one of Urko's guards, Yazka.

"You plays music, and we alls be very bored and worried, yip, so we hopes you plays for us," she requested. Deekin blinked in surprise, then nodded, smiled and took his lute by its strap, pulling it off his shoulder. The lute was a little damaged from the previous battles and still had some water in it, but it was a sturdy instrument and in good enough condition.

"Yep, me plays," he assented, carefully tuning the taut strings and racking his brain for a suitable song. These were simpletons, he told himself; they would appreciate an intrepid war ballad or a romantic serenade some long-dead hero crooned to his sweetheart. Finally, he recalled an appropriate tune and began plucking the string in sync to it as he sang:

"Once there be a valiant steed

And ons it rode a paladin

In a suit of shining armor

Who always says, 'Me be greatest pally-din of kingdom of...um, Deekin forgets, it be Something-din'

One days the king of a noble land

Calleds out far and wides

For some nice adventurer

To takes his daughter's hand--"

"Yip, why woulds king wants someone to cuts off his daughter's hand?" a kobold cut in quizzically.

"They means to takes her hand in marriage," Deekin explained.

"Oh..." After a thoughtful moment, the same kobold asked, "What be marriage, yip?" Deekin sighed, closed his eyes to think how to phrase this, and opened them again.

"Marriage be when two peoples loves each others and says they be togethers forever," he responded, adding quickly as the clueless kobold started to open his mouth again, "but it be official. Now you listens to song, okies?" With that, he cleared his throat, repositioned his fingers on the strings and continued:

"So paladin responds to call and goes to sees the king,

But king says paladin gots to get rids of poltergeist (which be mean, messy ghost)

Before he marries king's daughter

Paladin listens and thinks he be gypped, but he goes anyways.

So paladin rides on valiant steed to where the poltergeist be

And he asks the poltergeist to leaves.

But poltergeist says he be havings too much fun to quits

And he makes lots of noises and bangs on paladin's head.

The paladin be gettings mad and says so

But poltergeist just laughs more at paladin

Then scratches paladin's armor

And paladin gets really mad

Paladin says, 'You shoulds leaves this world!'

And shakes his fist and tells him

'So you goes to other world and rests peacefully,

Or me makes you go!'

Poltergeist just laughs and says,

'Me not be afraids of some pally-din

Who comes in actings all spiffy

But if you lets me finishes making big din,

Me leaves and rests all peaceful-like in a jiffy!'

Paladin is happy at this, so he says okies,

And he waits and waits for poltergeist to be dones

But poltergeist makes noise for fifty years

Until one day he be done.

Poltergeist says, 'Thanks for waiting, me soul be saved'

And he floats up to heavens

But paladin be dead too now, and so used to noise he misses it

So he picks up stuffs and clangs it all togethers

That paladin still makes noise todays,

And they says if you stands outside his haunt and stays,

You can hears him says,

'Me be greatest poltergeist of greatest pally-din of greatest kingdom of...erm, Someplace-din

And me makes biggest, holiest din!'"

Many of the kobolds laughed at the end, which pleased Deekin greatly as he slung the lute back over his shoulder, though he disliked his own performance. The original version had ryhmed beautifully, and had been filled with lots of clever, sarcastic humor. He found his own rendition, on the other hand, to be choppy and poorly-versed. It mattered little, though; the original version's cutting satire would have been lost on this crowd anyway.

Breaking Deekin's thoughts yet again, one kobold questioned, "Yip, whatever happens to paladin's horse?"

"Umm, Deekin not knows," Deekin answered, scratching his head, careful to avoid gouging his palm on his own short horns. "The song never says."

"Maybe paladin gets hungry and eats it, kip kip," Kipper suggested. "Kipper hads to do that once, but horse not tastes real good, kip."

"Maybe," said Deekin, but he didn't think that was what happened at all.

"Well, whatever happens to horse, Deekin sings good song, yip," Yazka avered, and most of the kobolds seemed to agree. Deekin looked shyly down at his feet, which scratched lightly at the ground, but was happy with the attention.

A kobold somewhere in the group outstretched its arms and yawned, "We goes to sleeps now, yip?"

"Yep, yip...sleep sounds good," Urko nodded, barely awake himself. It wasn't long after that every kobold in the room was curled up on the floor to get in some much-needed shut-eye. Soon, the sounds of steady breathing filled room, and Deekin found himself to be the only one awake. He tried to sleep, but the day's events repeated themselves unrelentingly in his head and would not permit it. To make matters worse, the unearthly screaming had started in again, low enough it didn't wake the others, but loudly enough Deekin heard it and shivered.

He had to get out of there.

Getting to his feet, Deekin found his backpack and replaced it on his shoulder, then weighed his options. He could stay here, and with Urko as the leader, either spend the rest of his life in this little room or meet his demise at the hands of some undead Urko had irked. It was a stroke of luck Deekin was still alive, and he didn't want to push his luck any more than was necessary. His mind made up, Deekin snuck over to the door and pushed it open.

Shoving the door closed behind him and stepping out into the halls, he found them to be once again deathly still. His pace was slow and cautious as he set off through the catacombs, so as not to disturb anything more than the dust on the ground. So long as he didn't anger the spirits of the crypt, he should be safe.

Thankfully, his theory proved correct, and his trip throughout the tomb was met mostly without resistance, with the exception of the starved rats which lunged from the shadows at opportune intervals, but he managed to outrun them. The way in had been a terrifying and torturously long maze; but, following the disruptions in the dust back to the entrance, he found his way out much more briefly. At last, he was able to exit the accursed mausoleum once and for all.

The cool, fresh air was heaven to Deekin's lungs, a welcome change from the musty, stagnant atmosphere of the crypt. Some bats fluttered out of the crypt and into the purple twilight sky; he had spent a good part of the night in the tomb. He looked about, but the living gnolls had left, their dead brethren and the blood-ridden snow the only signs they had been there. The only living creature he could see was a lone elf by a fire in the distance, but he paid the creature little notice as he looked about for danger, then wondered where he should go. He could go home, to the Nether Mountains...or, he could do what he always wanted to do, and wander free. It was a no-brainer. He chose to wander.

Deekin wasn't quite certain WHERE he was going, really, only that he was free. Not really free, of course; Tymofarrar could easily find him if he wanted to, and the repercussions would undoubtedly be harsh. But he wasn't worried about that now. Now, the miles of snow which stretched out in every direction beckoned for him to journey. Now, the sun lifted itself off the horizon with a burst of vibrant, swirling colors, turning the pearly sheets of icy snow many rosy shades. Now, Deekin smiled, for now, he was free.

Eventually, Deekin stopped beneath a small, wizened tree and opened the flap of his pack. Not only did he want to write about his escape from the crypt, but hunger gnawed beggingly at his stomach, and he was anxious to get at some food. There was some dried meat packed far down at the bottom that he had put there before they left the cave. It was just past his writing supplies and beside the crossbow, and a little further down, right beneath the...the...

The tower statue?

Oh, no. No, no, no, Deekin thought, his stomach sinking and hastily losing its appetite as he looked down in horror at the shattered, black stone remains of the statue, bringing a chunk close to his face and remembering the CRUNCH he'd heard when the gnoll dropped him on his back. No, no, no. This couldn't be...it COULDN'T...Tymofarrar would be mad. Mad, mad, mad. Deekin had seen him mad, and little bits of those who had angered the dragon were plastered to the den's walls still. Why? Deekin asked himself, huddling in fear as he envisioned his own, grisly death. Why?

Something shone at the bottom of the pack amidst the meat jerky, catching Deekin's eye. Deekin curiously reached a small green hand into the pack, fishing around in the meat and withdrawing a spherical crystal which shone brilliantly in the dawn's light. Refracting the red sun's glow into rainbowed rays like a prism, the crystal was truly a glorious, colorful spectacle. A faint smile edged at the corners of Deekin's mouth; ever-so-gently, he wrapped the crystal and bits of the statue in a fleecy cloth napkin and set the bundle back in. That crystal looked pretty valuable, Deekin decided...maybe, maybe the Boss would be satisfied with that. But, maybe he wouldn't, and the smile faded as quickly as it had come at this notion. Deekin closed the pack and put it back on. He had no idea how Tymofarrar would react, and he was too afraid to find out. He had to keep moving. He didn't dare to go back now.

After a while, Deekin came upon the entrance to a small town. "Blumberg", a sign boasted in fancy letters. Deekin knew of Blumberg. Once, back when he lived with Tymofarrar, the dragon had put on a human disguise and ventured out of the cave. Deekin had followed him, all the way into Blumberg to a small pie shop. Sadly, the pie shop had closed, and Tymofarrar lingered miserably in front of it for a minute or so before angrily stomping back to his cave. Deekin darted ahead and made it back to the den just before Tymofarrar did. It was a good thing Deekin had apt warning;Tymofarrar had been in a bad mood the rest of the day.

Now, recalling this incident, Deekin wondered if the shop was still closed. If it was, the abandoned store would be a perfect place to stay. He'd just have to sneak past the villagers without making a scene first.

The feat was difficult, but manageable, by darting from behind one building to another. Fortunately, the people of Blumberg weren't the most observant, and no one noticed when he at last spied the shop and ducked behind it. Panting softly, Deekin looked at the back of the building. It was a quaint little building, rounded and set half-way underground. There was a small door in its back, nailed over with boards. Deekin prised them off, pulled the door open a slat and squeezed in through the opening, yanking it closed behind him and raising a storm of dust. Deekin coughed and blinked through it, then looked about the shop. It was definitely abandoned, entirely layered with a film of dust and dark, the only light a lucid ray coming in through a small window beside the front door and illuminating the sad state of things.

Deekin stood and thought a moment as he inspected his surroundings, a floorboard squeaking beneath his foot. He cast a downward gaze at it and shifted his weight alternately to the foot on that board, which squealed irritably in reply, lifting a crack with every movement. An idea occurred to him; he took off his pack, pulled out the napkin holding the broken tower statue, and hid it under the floorboard, then stepped back and admired how inconspicuous it was. If he was the only one who knew where the statue was, Tymofarrar couldn't kill him. Satisfied, Deekin removed his pack and dropped it in a corner, fluffing it like a pillow before flopping down on it and curling up. The lost sleep was beginning to catch up to him. With a yawn, he closed his eyes and drifted off into slumber.

(Will Deekin be okay? How long will his freedom last? Will Tymofarrar go easy on him? All this and more, in Chapter Five! Don't forget to review, for Deekin's sake and mine.)