(A/N: Graah. This chapter took FOREVER to do. You see, I plotted out every other part of the story, except for this part. I just let it swirl there, plotless, and said "I'll deal with it when I get to it". I just got to it. In addition to that, Xanos was suddenly harder than heck to keep funny and in-character for some reason. I blame writer's block. Well, my recently rediscovered Morrowind obsession was probably a contributing factor. Please forgive me! Please read and review!
Note: A daemonfey is an elf with demon blood and, like its fiendish ancestors, a powerful evil.
Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights never belonged to me. Never.)
Dependence I: Heartsinger
Chapter Nine
Deekin awoke with a yawn and went straight for his papers. His mind was clearer after rest, able to more fully render last night's events. He reread his notes, captivated by them in rapturous disbelief; had it been real? Or had it only been a dream? No, no, Umbra had definitely taken him along, Daschnaya assured him, nonchalantly stirring sugar into the very tea Katriana had instructed her not to splurge and taking a long sip. Deekin was elated at this verification, and began chattering nonstop about last night.
"Manticore was terrible!" Deekin recounted. "Had great, green fangs it worried Deekin's foot with, and was THIS BIG!" He stood on tiptoe and stretched his short, spindly arms--though long in proportion to his height--as far as they would go. "Bigger, even!"
"I can't imagine," Daschnaya said dryly, studying the tea leaves gathered at the bottom of her cup.
"It was VERY ferocious, and abouts to kills little Deekin!" he continued. "Deekin is thinking he be dead for sure, when Boss comes out of nowhere and attacks the fermy--the farmid--the formidable beast! Manticore puts up a fight, but Boss vanquishes it easily, like mighty hero she be!"
"You don't say," Daschnaya commented carelessly, still staring down at the teacup cupped in her hands. Deekin somehow found this encouraging, and proceeded to reenact the entire battle, with many high-pitched imitations of the manticore's deep growl as he slashed an imaginary opponent with pretend swords. Deekin bounced around the caravan as he play-fought, bumping into various things in his hyper excitement. Daschnaya closed her eyes frustratedly; Deekin managed to avoid the chamberpot, but crashed into her table twice--thankfully, her teacup was empty. Finally, the kobold settled down, collapsing on his bedroll and giving Daschnaya a pleased grin.
"Then manticore dies, just like that!" he concluded proudly. "And Deekin helped!"
"Yes, Daschnaya believes she caught that part, after you mentioned it eight different times."
"Ooh, you keeps track!" Deekin applauded.
"Indeed." Daschnaya glanced out the window, and before Deekin could start up again, she told him, "The sun has almost set, and the caravan will stop soon. Perhaps you should gather your notes. You want to go out and see Umbra, yes?"
"Yes!" Deekin echoed, hastily scooping the paper sheets into a pile, then meticulously sorting them into a neat stack, which he deposited in his pack. He first pushed the pack under his bedroll; on second thought, he pulled it back out and slipped it over his shoulders. Better safe than sorry, he reminded himself, thinking of the stinger ambush last night.
Deekin hopped up to the window and stared out. The uppermost sky was black, fading downward to a curtain of navy blue that was steadily forcing the last bit of golden light below the horizon. He waved his tail crossly and willed it to hurry up. Bit by sluggish bit, the sun's light dipped out of sight and the sky withered to a deathly black, pricked by white starlight. On cue, the caravan slowed down, coming to a gradual halt that pitched its occupants forward nonetheless. Deekin scrambled over to the door and started to crack it open.
"Wait!" Daschnaya reprimanded, shuffling through her cards; she'd since put the teacup away. "Wait for the others to set the oxen pen up and get the fire started before you get out."
"Oh," Deekin said humbly, shutting the door and backing away from it. "Heh, heh. Sorries 'bout that." He sat down cross-legged on his bedroll. A half-minute later he was up again, peeking out the window at the halflings' progress, tapping the windowsill impatiently. At last he announced, "Fire be ready and oxen be in pen. Deekin goes now, maybe?" Daschnaya nodded; Deekin grinned broadly and shot out the door. Dachnaya sighed in relief at the sudden peace. Deekin was a funny, kindly little fellow, but not the calmest.
Deekin raced out into the cold night air, the plumes of his frozen breath spiraling around him and splashes of cool sand rushing over his long toes as he headed for the center of the camp, then stopped and looked around. Congregated around the fire were most of the halflings, as well as Xanos, who was snapping insults and orders at those around him, and Dorna, who was snapping insults and orders at Xanos. Umbra, however, was nowhere to be seen. With her height, she would definitely stand out amongst the halflings if she were there, but Deekin looked again nonetheless.
He didn't see Umbra, but Katriana stepped into his view.
"So there you are!" she glowered. "It's about time you came out to cook!"
"It's okay, Katriana, really," Torias insisted, hurrying over. "I'll cook tonight!"
"Torias, you're the look-out, not the cook," Katriana stated adamantly. "Besides, you've been cooking for the past trip, and your soup tastes like dishwater." She fixed Deekin with a stern stare. "You're the cook. Go cook. The ingredients and the pot are by the fire. Honestly, what am I paying you for?"
"Umm, you isn't paying Deekin," the kobold pointed out.
"Exactly!" Katriana retorted, walking off to criticize someone else. Torias trailed after and tried to convince her to let him cook, but Katriana wouldn't budge on it. Muttering "Fine, see if I care," to himself, Torias trudged away and resumed his look-out duties.
Deekin got to work. The pot was hanging over the fire, empty except for the broiled remains of a lone scorpion that had foolishly crawled in, but Deekin tipped the pot so the little corpse fell into the flames, unknowingly leaving black chunks of the arachnid stuck to the bottom of the pot. Like before, he piled dried vegetables and red spices into the pot--as well as a flaky, sharp-scented black spice that made him sneeze--by the handful. He wasn't allowed much water, so once the canteen he was allotted for cooking had been stirred into the mix, he was left with a thick brown-and-green substance that was more of a stew than a soup. Regardless of consistency, it still looked very plain, and Deekin wandered off to scrounge out more ingredients.
He hadn't gone more than twelve paces from the camp when he saw a stout green cactus poking out of the sand. It looked ripe, and Deekin was certain something this fresh would do his stew good, but he definitely had his qualms about the spikes. Then he remembered his rapier. He reached into his pack and withdrew the bladed weapon. It had been in there quite a while, and he wasn't sure how clean it was, so he pulled it out of the scabbard and wiped it off on his tunic, failing to realize that his clothing was grimier than the weapon itself.
As Deekin stripped the cactus's spiny skin away with his rapier, he gazed out at the boundless, silvery desert sands and wondered if Umbra was out there. At last he finished, the plant's bare flesh glistening pale green in the moonlight. Pleased with his work, Deekin sliced through its stem in one fell swoop. Well, more like three or four fell swoops, it was a stubborn plant. With an irritable groan, it finally cracked off its base and collapsed defiantly in the sand. Now, one whole sticky side of it was covered in sand grains, but Deekin only assumed the texture would enliven his dish, and lugged the cactus back to camp anyway.
The caravaners were so caught up in whatever they were doing that no one seemed to notice the kobold hauling a sizeable hunk of cactus, which he held over the pot and hacked into clumsy chunks. Deekin stirred them into the bubbling hot stew until only soft green pulp was left, then searched for something else to put in.
He found it: a mummified lizard corpse, shriveled and sticking halfway out of the sand. Deekin snatched it up and sawed it into tiny pieces with dry bursts of disintegrated reptile essence, then dropped the lizard bits into the pot. He would have gladly added more still, but Katriana shouted for him to hurry up, so he swirled it all together with a long-handled spoon, then pulled a metal ladel out of one of the ingredients sacks and served the hungry caravaners who held clay bowls out to him.
Anxious to fill their empty stomachs, the caravaners took large, quick bites. Deekin had gone back to scanning the area for Umbra, and missed the interesting expressions that followed. First, the eaters looked pleased. Then indecisive. Then panic-stricken. Their stomachs rumbled apocalyptically; someone belched, then someone else, then everyone who had partaken in the stew, and soon a chorus of burping arose. Embarrassed, the caravaners excused themselves and dashed into the privacy of their caravan wagons. All the while, Deekin was too preoccupied with looking for Umbra to notice. Torias only smirked to himself in a smug, I-told-you-so sort of way.
As it happened, Umbra didn't turn up for the entire time Deekin was out there. Weary and worrisome, Deekin reluctantly gave up after an hour or so of waiting, kicked sand over the fire, then clambered into Daschnaya's caravan, where he curled up in his bedroll and fell fast asleep. Daschnaya envied him; many of the caravaners were still burping so loudly she could hear them from inside her caravan, and she doubted she'd be able to sleep so easily tonight.
---
The caravan traveled yet another day. If Deekin had even a shred of enthusiasm for traveling across the desert left before, it was gone now. He was hot, bored, and thirsty, since they were almost out of water and Katriana refused to let anyone drink more than what seemed to be a drop at a time. He tried to occupy his mind by revising his story again, but found it impossible to focus in this dizzying heat. He flopped down on his back and stared at the wood-plank ceiling of Daschnaya's wagon instead. Daschnaya just sat at the low table, moving only to fan herself with her cards. The day crept by, but finally it passed.
That night Deekin rushed out and looked around, yet again intent on finding Umbra. Yet again, she was nowhere in sight. And yet again, Katriana walked over to him.
"You wants Deekin to cooks again?" Deekin guessed.
"Actually," Katriana corrected, "I was going to say that I don't think I'll be hiring on any more kobolds to do the cooking."
"Umm...why not? Deekin likes to cook."
"Well, I spent half of last night awake and belching uncontrollably from dinner..." She hesitated. "And I'm really too frightened to ask why that is."
"Well, it all have to do with great, big--" Deekin started, more than happy to oblige anyway.
"No," Katriana cut in, holding up a hand and shaking her head of long black hair. "Really. I don't want to know. Ever." She walked away to talk to someone else, leaving a confused Deekin, who was only going to say "dried beans". No longer distracted, he let it go and sat down to resume waiting for Umbra.
The night wore on, and the fire began to wane. One by one, most of the halflings went into the caravans, until only four individuals were still out. Furten and Birgen kept vigil a small distance away from camp, taking turns resting; Torias had kept watch all of last night while they stayed in, and they were making up for it now. Xanos and Dorna were arguing about something, and Deekin reclined on the sand as he waited.
Eventually, Dorna turned in for the night as well, and Xanos was forced to notice his scaly company. He decided to invite Deekin into a friendly conversation.
"You! Miserable vermin! What are you doing out here?" Xanos called to him. Deekin looked over at him curiously, wondering whether or not he should take offense.
"Umm, Deekin just be waitings for the great hero Umbra," he answered simply, picking up a stick and stoking the fire.
"Great hero? Umbra?" Xanos repeated incredulously. "Well, whatever you call the little mystery, good luck waiting for her to come out of hiding."
"Umm, thanks."
"I said 'good luck' because I've lived under the same roof as the little mystery for too many years, and have only seen her a handful of times," Xanos informed bluntly.
"Oh." Deekin pondered this, deducing that the odds of seeing Umbra again were slim. Despite this, he resolved, "Well, Deekin wait anyways." Xanos snorted derisively at Deekin's unwavering loyalty.
"Bah, Xanos is not about to spend his entire night with a scaly vermin waiting for it master to return." Xanos paused; the trip had been boring and depressing, and no one else had been willing to hear what he had to say. "But, Xanos might be willing to impart some of his vast reservoir of knowledge to you, if you are lucky."
"Ooh, really?" Deekin asked eagerly. "You tells Deekin what Umbra be, maybe?"
"Of course--" Xanos stopped with a dismayed expression. "Whaat? Of all the things you could have asked, you ask Xanos what Umbra is?!"
"Yep."
"Well...Xanos doesn't know either," the half-orc confessed, taking the stick from Deekin and whipping the fire's dying flames into a flickering frenzy with a few brisk whisks. "I used to assume she was a drow, but her skin's even darker than that of a dark elf, and she's too tall. Besides, elves carry themselves with proud grace. Umbra creeps." Deekin started to protest, then admitted to himself that 'creep' was indeed an apt summary of the way Umbra walked.
With a sigh, Xanos dropped the stick and inquired stately, "Now, do you have something deserving of Xanos's consideration to ask?" It was Deekin's opinion that Umbra was more than deserving, but he adjudged that expounding the matter was not nearly worth setting the wrath of a large half-orc upon himself. Instead, he obediently questioned, "Okay, umm...why you be out in desert?"
"Exactly what Xanos would like to know," Xanos muttered to himself. Deekin looked at him inquisitively, prompting him to go on.
"Well, Xanos was minding his business at Master Drogan's house, helping out around the place after someone ambushed us" --he glared pointedly at Deekin here-- "when Umbra came back, the celebrated hero. She told us that the kobolds were commanded by a dragon, who was commanded by a daemonfey" --Deekin realized he was referring to J'Nah, and wondered if Tymofarrar had known she was a daemonfey rather than an elf at the time of their dealing-- "who was commanded by a mysterious, hooded female figure," Xanos finished, adding sarcastically, "Gee, I wonder why that sounds familiar. There are far too many mysterious, hooded female figures in the world anymore, Xanos thinks."
"You not likes Umbra?" Deekin surmised.
"Xanos and Umbra aren't best chums, that's for certain," Xanos said bluntly. "But the little mystery is only a mild irritation to Xanos; it is Mischa who truly hates her."
"Who be Mischa?" queried Deekin, immediately deciding he didn't like whoever this Mischa was.
"Just a young paladin-in-training, another of Master Drogan's students," Xanos explained nonchalantly. "She sees everything as either good or bad, and is convinced that Umbra is pure evil."
"Why?"
"'Paladin sense', says she. 'Paranoia,' thinks Xanos," the half-orc answered with a wry grin. "It was rather amusing, actually...she left talismans of good all over the house, hoping one would catch Umbra. Of course, they never did. But wasn't Xanos talking of other things...? Oh, yes. You worked for the dragon, what do you know of the other mysterious, hooded female figure?"
"Boss just tells Deekin something 'bouts a bargain with elf lady," Deekin shrugged. "Deekin guesses that be daemonfey. Deekin not knows nothing 'bouts hooded figure."
"Umbra probably made her up, anyway," Xanos dismissed. "But if she is real, and able to command a daemonfey, she must be very powerful. At any rate, Umbra also claimed this hooded figure was after a little crystal that was in one of the artifacts--"
"Deekin can pay for that," Deekin said quickly, to which Xanos chortled loudly.
"So it was you who broke it?" he grinned. "And here Xanos thought Umbra's negligence was to blame. Lucky for you, vermin, you actually helped us by breaking the statue and revealing the crystal within."
"Ooh, that be good," Deekin sighed in relief.
"On the other hand," Xanos remarked thoughtfully with growing frustration, "it is because of that wretched crystal Master Drogan sent us out to look for a man in the midst of this forsaken wasteland in the first place!"
"Ooh...that be bad," Deekin amended, cringing. Xanos grunted in agreement, pushing to his feet and stretching his overmuscled arms.
"Xanos is ready to go to sleep now. If you are wise, kobold, you'll do the same before long," Xanos yawned sagely. Deekin nodded at his advice as Xanos ambled away and disappeared into a caravan. The kobold huddled to keep warm and gazed at the stars, determined to wait for Umbra to appear.
It would be a long night.
(That was Chapter Nine! Chapter Ten will be up very soon! So I beseech ye...please review.)