(A/N: ...Wow. I can't believe it. I have 37 reviews, for only 7 chapters. I would never have thought this fic could become so successful, and I have all of you to thank! (But I'm lazy so I'll just mention the people who reviewed last chapter.) My heartfelt appreciation goes out to Coranth, qadsjlkahsdf, Lissette, Guan, VaguelyFamiliar, Lady Kitana, and Iris! In the immortal words of Deekin: "May your looting be plentiful!" Or, as he more aptly put it on another occasion: "Ooh, thank-you thank-you thank-you!!!" You people are awesome! I don't think I even need to ask you to review anymore! But just in case--please review :D
Note: Kurtulmak is the God of Kobolds. While I'm at it, I'd like to point out that wood is a precious material in the desert, on par with gold. You'll be seeing some soft rocks in this chapter; this is because the Anauroch Desert is newly formed by geographic standards, so many of the "rocks" would be hard-packed chunks of sand, or limestone. That's my excuse, and I'm standing by it. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: Do you have to ask? Neverwinter Nights still isn't mine...and sadly, neither is Deekin.)
Dependence I: Heartsinger
Chapter Eight
Deekin scribbled a brief, happy account of his new boss on a piece of paper as he scrabbled along after Umbra, his exhaled breaths appearing as pale puffs in the cool night air. Umbra's dark form smoothly faded into the night, the fulgent blades at her sides just barely keeping her visible. She halted sharply, and Deekin fumbled to do the same before he could cause an awkward crash. Without moving her head at all, Umbra just pointed downward at a hole in the ground and decided, "This entrance appears to be safe." With that, she slipped down into the hole. Deekin pushed the paper and pen back down in his pack before doing the same.
The kobold failed to look before he leapt, and was already falling by the time he realized he was about to land facefirst on a large, rough boulder. He barely had time to squeak--
--before a pair of slender black hands caught him midair.
"We must practice caution here," Umbra advised sternly, setting him down on the boulder's top.
"Thanks, Boss," Deekin said gratefully, and noticed that she was standing on the hilts of her swords, the blades of which were driven deep into the rock of the boulder. She stepped backward off them, landing softly on both feet in the sand, and waited for him to do the same. Deekin took a wary look down, balked, then gradually gripped ahold of the bouldertop and slid down, grasping each swordhilt firmly with one long-toed, reptilian foot and waving his tail for balance as he let go of the rock and slowly stood straight up. Now there was the trick of getting down. That didn't go so well; fortunately, Umbra was there to catch him again.
"Shall we go, then?" she queried, pulling her swords out of the boulder.
"Umm... wait, let Deekin writes this down," Deekin responded, yanking out the quill and paper again. "'And the heroes entered the stinky scorpion-thingy caves...'...umm, no, let Deekin thinks..." He paused, scribbled something down, then shoved the writing supplies back and grinned. "Okay, Deekin be ready now." They traveled on.
The underground passage was a long, winding one, and Deekin dipped a claw in one sandy wall to make a line as they walked, so they wouldn't get lost on the way back. He made especially noticeable designs when they came to a branch of the tunnel that forked off in different directions. As he ambled along, he noticed that it was especially light down here; when he looked up, he saw that lit torches were perched at regular intervals along the walls. That was strange...stingers were naturally subterranean, and used to living in darkness underground. Why would they need torches to see their way?
"So...these be stinger tunnels?" Deekin asked, glancing about.
"They most likely are," the boss replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Deekin only wonders, 'cause he thinks that if these be stinger tunnels, then we should be seeings" --several stingers burst out of the sand-- "umm, more of those." He sighed and yanked his crossbow out of his pack, firing a bolt at a stinger's head. Thankfully, the shot hit home and the creature fell dead to the ground, its pierced temple leaking sickly ichor as Umbra sliced up its companions. Patches of sand were now wet with stinger fluids; Deekin was uncertain if stinger blood contained venom, but he avoided those spots just case, while Umbra strode carelessly through them.
The tunnel continued to offshoot and sprawl, and as they trekked on they encountered more stingers, each time swiftly disposing of them--mostly Umbra's doing, of course. For a while they moved without encountering any of the creatures, and Deekin had time to lose himself in thought during this time. In many respects, the stingers' attack on the caravan was very similar to the kobolds' attack on Hilltop. It was finally, really occurring to Deekin that he HADN'T been an agent of the hero, but a cowardly servant of the villain during the first ambush. It ached to compare himself to the monsters he despised. Shameful, Deekin took a deep breath and ventured, "Umm...Boss?"
"Yes, Deekin?" Umbra returned, still looking ahead. Deekin's eyes shifted to the side anyway.
"Umm... Deekin just wonders if dwarf wizard be okays. You knows, since we kobolds..." He trailed off.
"Poisoned him?" Umbra finished bluntly.
"Yes." Deekin started twirling his finger, turning the line on the wall into a series of loops. "Deekin not hurts him, but Deekin still feels guilty. Deekin goes on raid with other kobolds, after all."
"You feel guilt?" Umbra questioned, her tone blank; Deekin realized the only time her low, quiet voice had ever shown a trace of emotion was when she had cast a charm spell. In contrast, his own voice was high and loud, his emotions worn on his sleeve. He pushed these thoughts aside and answered her question.
"Deekin never fits in with other kobolds. Old Master used to tells Deekin that Deekin too smart." He was thoughtful. "But... kobold chieftain be smart, too, and Deekin not be like him either."
"Perhaps it is your imagination which sets you apart," Umbra suggested. No emotion peeked out of that sentence either, but Deekin smiled brightly.
"You thinks Deekin gots imagination? That nice thing to say."
"It is truth," Umbra responded. "This one has heard your playing as the caravan rolled, wondering whose voice sang such lyrics. I recognize that voice to be yours." Deekin was pleasantly surprised.
"You hears Deekin play?" he cried happily.
"Quiet," Umbra ordered abruptly. "Listen, now." Deekin was taken aback, but did so. He heard hisses and rattles...many of them, growing louder with every passing moment. Umbra was already holding her swords; Deekin pulled his crossbow out of his pack and backed up a step, watching as the grains of sand that made up the floor vibrated, jumping up as though alive.
Up from under the sands rose dozens of the stingers, strong, red and deadly, rattling their tails and hissing sinisterly. Their weapons were heavy, gleaming flails with prominent spikes. Suddenly, Deekin's pilfered crossbow didn't seem so formidable, as one stinger stamped its eight needlelike legs and used its flail to smash apart a rock. Deekin's scaly legs bowed in fear, but he loaded up his crossbow and fired a shot anyway. The bolt veered past any living targets and burrowed in the sand amongst the shattered rock bits, to the kobold's dismay; then he looked away to see that Umbra had already hacked at least six stingers into twitching chunks, and was in the process of slicing up two more at once. Deciding Umbra had things covered, Deekin resolved to stay out of the of the main battle and just fire helpful shots here and there.
A creaking sound caught Deekin's attention, coming from a fork of the tunnel that widened up ahead. Instantly intrigued and wondering whether he should investigate, Deekin cast a look at Umbra. The stingers were undoubtedly lethal, but apparently not very sturdy, and their hooded foe was swiftly dodging their blows--or resistant when they did hit--as she delivered her own. Umbra could take care of herself, and Deekin lent little help here. Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, Deekin slipped off down the branching tunnel, tucking his crossbow back in his pack.
Deekin heard stinger hisses echo along the tunnels after him, fading off as he moved further down the offshoot, which grew wider and wider until it opened up into a small room. Deekin saw what had been creaking--a large stone door, embedded in a side wall and split down the middle. With a resonating clatter, its halves swung completely inwards. Deekin hesitated a moment before softly treading over and peeking in. A bright glitter from beyond the wide door caught his eye and drew him in, leading him to a vast pile of gold and jewels. Deekin's eyes shone bright at these riches; without another thought, Deekin grabbed fistfuls of the gaudy valuables, shoving them down in his pack. He had been hesitant to steal in the crypt, for all the stories he'd read of ancient, possessed objects that haunted thieves to the end of their days. This was just a stingers' horde, though; no bitter, lingering ghosts to attach themselves to wordly possessions here, Deekin told himself. All he had to worry about was what he'd spend all of this on--
A sudden growl proved him wrong. Deekin cursed his luck before reluctantly turning around.
The thing was hideous...actually, "hideous" was a kind description. The beast had a flat, swollen head that was vaguely humanoid, beady green eyes glistening evilly from beneath a furry brow as it opened its mouth--so wide the deformed face seemed to split in half--and bared rows of small, pointy yellow teeth. The body was lionlike and bulky, abundant muscle rippling under tawny fur. Draconic wings spread out of its shoulders, brown and leathery, its long tail tipped with the same long, black spikes that edged the beast's spine and chin. Deekin recognized the thing as the dangerous, spike-throwing manticore, and wished he didn't. He was glued to the spot in fear, knowing the beast could easily catch him if he ran, anyway.
He stood petrified for an instant; then a nasty grin seemed to cross the manticore's face as it extended a long, sticky tongue and curled it around Deekin's face, pulling it away in a slow, generous kiss that left Deekin smelling of carrion. The manticore's expression looked very sadistic as it bent down and clamped its crushing jaws down on Deekin's foot. Deekin gave a guttural kobold cry, then caught himself and moaned instead as the beast lifted him by his wounded foot, then dropped him to the ground. It liked to play with its food, Deekin thought sickeningly, holding the bleeding foot and begging the pain to stop. The manticore held its spiked tail over the kobold, who closed his eyes and prayed to Kurtulmak for release.
When he creaked his eyes open at last, he noticed something bright pressed against the manticore's throat. One--no, two glowing swords, gripped by thin black hands, Deekin saw with growing excitement. Umbra had heard the commotion, and had come to rescue him! He was saf--
The manticore easily reared up and flung Umbra away, knocking her against the far wall. The hooded figure slumped to the ground, then swiftly got to her feet--just before the manticore pounced on her, pinning her to the wall with mighty claws that were stained brown with old blood. Deekin watched in horror as the manticore kept her there, arms pinned to her sides so she could use neither sword nor spell in defense as the manticore gored her with its fangs. Well, the kobold couldn't actually SEE any gore past the manticore, but the manticore was certainly making a show of it. Fear flooded Deekin as the manticore mauled his hero...then fury.
Hopping up and balancing on his good foot, Deekin reached into his pack, took out the crossbow and fired a bolt into the monster's flank to divert its attention. It paid him no mind; he gritted his teeth, reloaded the weapon and fired another. That one did it. The beast turned away, beads of saliva dribbling down its spiked chin as it growled vehemently in Deekin's direction. Deekin saw Umbra fall to the ground, looking oddly shapeless. His immediate thought that the manticore had broken every bone in her body, but said manticore was roaring and racing towards him, so he didn't have much time to worry about that. The manticore gripped the ground with its claws until it slid to a halt, then snapped its tail, sending out a torrent of black spikes--which stopped midair, then drove themselves into the manticore, who screamed in confused pain. Deekin raised a scaly brow.
The manticore tried hurling its tail-spikes at Deekin again, but yet again the spikes drove themselves into the beast itself. The manticore growled threateningly and spun in circles, but there was nothing there. Deekin's leg wobbled and he fell to the ground, but the manticore took no notice as it continued to search for something that wasn't there--then shrieked as it was slashed by something that was.
Umbra was back on her feet and looking no worse for the wear, lashing out at the beast with her swords so quickly the blades were but bright flashes to the eye. Deekin cheered silently as he held his leg to stay the blood flow, looking on as the manticore leaked blood from a devastating amount of wounds, collapsing to the ground with a pathetic moan, its ribs heaving with labored breaths. Umbra attacked it unrelentingly, slitting vital arteries, until the beast lie completely still. She stood over it a long moment, making sure it was dead, then walked over to Deekin and knelt down to level herself with him.
"Are you alright?" she asked him. There was no panic in her voice, no sweat on her face, no frenzied panting after all that exertion; she was calm and astute as ever. Deekin nodded; Umbra noticed his bloodied leg.
"Is okay," Deekin assured. "Cuts be mostly on foot...blood makes it look worse than it really be." He stood up and hobbled on his good foot again despite the pain, just to prove it, then flopped down again. He took off his pack, searched around and grabbed a cloth napkin, which he used to soak up the blood, then cast a healing spell to numb the pain, close the wounds and prevent scarring.
"You needs any healing?" Deekin wondered, looking up at Umbra.
"No, this one suffers no...grave, injuries," she replied. "Are you able to stand?" Deekin nodded and stood again, this time on both feet.
"That is most fortunate," said Umbra, standing as well. "We may continue our search now, though this one would ask that as of now, you stay nearer my side."
"Okay, Boss," Deekin grinned sheepishly, then got out a piece of paper and a quill pen to write something. Umbra waited patiently, until he put away the the writing supplies, shouldered his pack and smiled at Umbra.
"We is off?"
"We are off."
And off they went.
---
On the opposite side of the manticore's room was another stone door, which Umbra pushed open to allow them exit. A couple stingers attacked them upon leaving, but they were easily killed. Deekin looked back as they wandered off down the tunnels again, wondering if the manticore had been something of a secret weapon for the stingers, or if the manticore had ruled the stingers just as Tymofarrar ruled the kobolds. Either way, the torches along the walls must have been placed for the manticore to see by.
They came to a part of the ground that dipped down into a lower series of tunnels. Umbra advised that they should be as silent as possible, then slinked off and vanished into the shadows of the lower tunnel. Especially wary of these tunnels now, Deekin scrambled after.
"Either they eats guide human or he down here, Deekin guesses," he noted nervously to himself, searching for and finding Umbra's silhouette in the dark. Being a kobold, he could see very well in the darkness, but Umbra blended smoothly into it nonetheless. She was doing very well after the manticore incident, and Deekin was grateful for that.
Not long after, the shadows were pierced by the dim light of ornate candles, which rested upon intricately carved wooden pedestals that were set along the sides of the tunnel. Rather than emanating practical light, the candles and pedestals seemed to have been designed for more sacred purposes. Squinting closely at the pedestals' designs, Deekin could make out the carved figures of emaciated, diseased people covered in festering boils, in the process of being picked apart and eaten alive by hungry harpies, surrounded by half-rotted corpses piled so high they blocked out the background, with thin snakes of smoke spiraling across it all. The images were so detailed and disturbing that Deekin almost forgot he was staring at wood; in horror, he pulled his eyes away from the gory sight and gazed at the ground instead, quickening his pace. A pained cry and an unpleasant stench from up ahead forced him to look up.
The tunnel widened into a small chamber, littered with many of the pedestals he'd seen earlier, as well as many equally morbid statues, all crafted of wood and gold. Garbed in ceremonial robes that hung over their humanoid halves and cascaded around the more arachnoid parts, a dozen or so stingers crouched on the floor and bowed their scarlet heads in solemn prayer, situated around a rocky rise in the ground. Atop the elevation stood another stinger, dressed more elegantly than any of the others and bearing cracks in its weathered chitin shell. It hissed sharply down at the others and rattled its tail rhythmically; the other stingers rattled their tails in sync. The leader bowed its head and skittered to the side, revealing a small stone altar. Standing just behind it was Zidan.
Zidan was in terrible shape; he bore two black eyes, his lips were puffy, his clothing shredded to reveal many bruises and deep cuts that oozed a fetid green substance. His skin looked very raw, and he was surrounded by a crackling, faintly pulsing aura of magic that flowed out of the small altar. Blood leaked out the corner of his mouth as his lolling eyes caught sight of Deekin and Umbra. He rasped desperately, "You... you are from the caravan! Please, help me! I beg you!" He licked his dry, cracked lips. "They wish to sacrifice me! Please hurry!" The stingers looked up and followed his gaze to the kobold and the hooded hero. With enraged hisses, the creatures rose up, arched their tails and charged at the intruders.
As always, Umbra made short work of their opponents. The leader, however, stayed safely atop its stony acclivation and prepared offensive spells; Deekin shot him with bolts repeatedly to keep him from casting any. Deekin's range attack killed the thing after only a few shots, so once the followers were dead Umbra only had to ascend the hill and step over its cadaver. Proud of himself, Deekin favored his sore foot and traipsed after her.
Zidan's beaten, swollen face was pleading as Umbra approached. "Please!" he beseeched, wavering weakly. "I... I am being held here by a... a magical force! Free me, I beg you!" Wordlessly, Umbra smacked the altar stone with her swords. The altar cracked apart and tumbled in chunks on the floor, the binding magic that flowed from it fizzling and seeping away from Zidan, who shivered and dropped to his knees in relief.
"I... I am free! Oh, what sheer relief!" he gasped, turning his watery eyes up to Umbra. "I am forever grateful to you, madam! How can such a rescue ever be repaid?"
"There is no need to repay me," she replied, emotionless as ever. "You are needed to guide the caravan. I have come to retrieve you for that sole purpose."
"I am grateful nevertheless," he responded, gritting his teeth to withstand the pain and getting up on one knee, then the other and standing unsteadily with a grunt. "If you had not arrived when you did, the creatures would surely have sacrificed me to their dread goddess!"
"What? You mean she comes and eats you?" Deekin asked, getting out his quill and paper. "Deekin needs to know... Deekin gots to write this all down."
"I would rather not think of it, kobold," the guide answered dully. Deekin nodded in understanding and replied, "Okay. Deekin just makes something up, then. He just thinks back to what old master would do... and that is lots, let Deekin tells you." He promptly began writing.
---
They led Zidan out of the tunnels relatively quickly, thanks to the lines Deekin had left on the walls. By the time Umbra had helped Deekin and Zidan up the boulder and they'd exited the tunnels completely, the sun had already risen and was shining down full-force. The camp wasn't far off, thankfully, so they didn't have to walk far in the trying heat. When they reached the encampment, Katriana rushed over to greet them.
"Ah-ha! There you are, Zidan!" the halfling grinned, somewhat oblivious to Zidan's poor state--Deekin had healed the worst of it, of course, but the Bedine certainly wasn't in prime condition. "You're a sight for sore eyes... I was beginning to think we'd have to wander back to Blacksands before long."
"I would not advise that, Madame Katriana," he said dryly.
"Neither would I, to be honest," she answered. "It's good to have you back."
"The thanks must go to Umbra for that," he told her, bowing his head to the aforementioned. Deekin felt more than a little underappreciated, but let it pass and focused on jotting down the conversation instead.
Katriana regarded Umbra coolly for a moment before relenting, "True enough. Well, Umbra, you rescued Zidan just as I'd hoped you would. I suppose you'll be wanting a reward?"
"I require no reward," Umbra declined. "I did only that which was necessary, and the caravan may now proceed."
"Fair enough," Katriana nodded, then smirked at Zidan. "You, my dear Zidan, are one lucky man... that reward was going to come out of your pay."
"You... are too kind, Madame Katriana," he sighed.
"Don't I know it," came her wry reply. Torias snickered from a short distance.
"I can find you something to do, cousin, if you've got enough spare time to be eavesdropping," Katriana called to him over her shoulder. Torias's ornery expression grew morose, but he pretended not to hear. Katriana rolled her eyes and turned back to them. "Now, then... I trust we're ready to move on?" There were no protests--save some indignant whines from Torias--so the travelers packed away their misplaced belongings and piled back into the caravans to resume their lengthy trip.
---
As the caravan rolled along, Deekin spread out his paper notes and beamed at them, dipping a quill in an inkwell and leaning over to scratch in some revisions. When this was done, he gathered the papers back up in order, shuffled them together and pushed them down in his back, then crawled into his bedroll to catch up on much-needed sleep, after spending the whole night fighting stingers and a ferocious manticore. He closed his eyes with a joyful smile and drifted off to sleep. He slept until well into the afternoon, having occasional nightmares of the manticore; but mostly, his dreams were happy and filled with replays of his adventure with the great hero.
Daschnaya flipped through her cards and smiled at the kobold's sleeping form. His long-muzzled, reptilian green face was still curled up in a smile, four tiny horns poking up harmlessly from the top of his head, ears small and pointed and his warm brown eyes gently closed. He was a good-natured, honest little fellow, and she had taken a shining to him during this trip. Her cards foretold that he would have a trial ahead of him, however; her smile faded at the thought. She could only hope that he would make it through hardship safely, and that not too much of his wide-eyed innocence would be lost.
With one last, wistful glance at the kobold, Daschnaya bound her cards and slipped behind the beaded curtain.
(That was Chapter Eight! Now that you've read, do this humble--I lie--author the service of reviewing, please?)