(A/N: I CANNOT believe I procrastinated so much. I will start churning these chapters out at faster rate, even if it means setting Morrowind on fire and stapling myself to this chair. But, moving on...for the first time, I have some suggestions to improve in the reviews. Coranth pointed out several aspects of the stingers' sacrifice that I left out. Well, I didn't see an oppurtunity to slip Talona's name in there--I don't think stingers can speak--but I did detail the grotesque religious decorations that adorned the place. Also, I've been trying not to overdo the undead and godly miracles in this story--if there are too many potent arcane occurrences, it cheapens the effect. In addition to that, I'd like to state that this story is based on the game, but does not follow it word-for-word. The alterations have been minor so far, but from this chapter on I'll be adding major changes to accustom the storyline.
As for LdyShayna's pointers, I edited the chapter name as she advised (thanks for noticing that, can't believe I didn't), but left the in-chapter grammar the way it was. I have too many future chapters to write to focus on chapters past. That, and I'm lazy. Again, thank-you everyone for your reviews, I really appreciate them! This fic is now the most reviewed in the Neverwinter Nights section, thanks to you. Please, keep up the good work! I do hope you enjoy this chapter--it is, in my opinion, the best yet.
Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights is not mine. I own a copy of the game, but not the rights.)
Dependence I: Heartsinger
Chapter Ten
The caravan traveled on for many a week. Night after night, a worried and wearisome Deekin awaited his hero, until even his enthusiasm dispelled, to the point that he would spend but a few minutes in wait of Umbra each night. That is not to say he was satisfied with this arrangement; he spent his days in a slump, which the heat wave and stifling, cramped quarters did nothing to lessen. His depression was evident to Daschnaya; taking pity on her reptilian traveling companion, the old halfling unbound her cards one day and, shuffling them together thoroughly, called him over. Deekin obeyed half-heartedly, sitting down across from her at the low, broad table.
"You wants Deekin?" he asked despondently, leaning his long chin on the tabletop.
"Deekin wants a fortune, yes?" Daschnaya said simply, gazing at the elaborate red-and-black designs on the cards' backs. Deekin lifted his head and looked wide-eyed at Daschnaya in delighted surprise.
"You tells Deekin's fortune?"
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes!" he responded eagerly. Daschnaya laughed softly, glad to see him in brighter spirits again, then appeared solemn.
"Are you certain?" she insisted, spreading the cards in a row with a sweep of her hand. "Fortunes can foretell a very good thing, or a very bad thing. They can be in-depth and descriptive, or confusing and vague. They can better one's life, or they can launch it into absolute ruin. A fortune is not a thing to be taken lightly, so I repeat: are you certain?"
"Yep," Deekin replied promptly. Daschnaya sighed, but there was laughter in that exhalation.
"Very well," she relented, patting the row of cards gently. "Choose four cards from the pile without looking at them--just pick the ones that appeal to you--and lay them down in a diamond shape in the center of the table, one card for each side. Yes, just like that. Now pick a fifth one and set it over to the side, apart from the others. Good, good...now, sit back and I'll do the rest." Having arranged the cards as instructed, Deekin did as he was told.
Tenderly, Daschnaya turned each of the first four cards onto their reverse sides. There were no pictures on the card faces, as Deekin had expected, but strange symbols, laboriously etched in ruby inks. Daschnaya hovered a forefinger above them all studiously, discerning their collective meaning; then she leaned back and closed her eyes, murmuring unintelligible things to herself. There were no splashy effects to accompany the chanting, but Deekin could sense true magic in Daschnaya's odd words.
The halfling's murmuring trailed off. Half-opening her eyes, she flipped the final card over, revealing a semi-circular shape with haphazard lines slashed through its rounded sides. Daschnaya stared at it earnestly for a moment; then she scooped the cards back together, shuffled them back into a stately deck and bound it with a leather strip once more. At last, she returned her attention to Deekin.
"'Beware the unlike mirror's gaze,'" she told him.
"Umm, okay," Deekin answered, puzzled. "What that mean?"
"It is your fortune," Daschnaya informed bluntly. "Too loose to say now whether it bodes ill or no...but it should reveal itself to you, in time. Hopefully, you'll realize its meaning at the right moment."
"Huh?"
"Just keep an eye out for a situation where the fortune might come in handy," Daschnaya clarified.
"Oh. Thanks," Deekin said, still rather perplexed and disappointed at his brief, nonsensical foretelling. Daschnaya gave him a sympathetic half-smile.
"Daschnaya sees less than she would like, but often more than she should," she commented, almost apologetically, getting up and walking over to a small chest that she stored the cards in. She paused, wondering whether she should tell him about the adventure awaiting him the cards had foretold weeks earlier, then decided against it. He would find out.
---
The fortune successfully lessened Deekin's worrying over Umbra, if only by creating new worries to push the old ones to the side. What did the fortune mean? Was it good or bad? How would he put it to use, if at all? These questions and more like them raced through the kobold's head as he lie on his bedroll, staring at the ceiling. His dilemma faded a little, though, as he found himself searching the wooden grain of the ceiling for pictures--there a porous rabbit sitting on its haunches and sniffing up at a knothole sun, here a legless troll cradling a cat in its arms, way over there a blocky dwarf with a single, obscenely large eye that glared peculiarly at its woody, indistinguishable surroundings.
The woodgrain patterns provided something in the way of entertainment, but Deekin had visited these accidental images many times before, for the ceiling never changed; he longed for the fresh air and amorphous spontanity of an open sky swathed in fleecy clouds, so vibrant in his mind's eye, though he had never seen it. Maybe one day he'd travel somewhere with bright green grass, fragrant flowers, soft-leaved trees and soft fruit, the likes of which he had only read about. Maybe Umbra would be there to taste the fruits and watch the clouds with him. He felt inspired to write a song about it. The only song he'd ever written had been "Oh! How Smelly the Dragon's Den Be", and Tymofarrar's reaction had put Deekin off songwriting for a while after. With no angry dragon to swoop down on him now, though, songwriting was definitely something to look into. He started writing the song right away, the lyrical verses carrying his worries away.
---
The caravan pushed on. By now, their water supplies were almost entirely gone, which made everyone irritable--including Daschnaya, who was very fond of her tea. Luckily, Deekin had a lot of experience dealing with cranky individuals, and knew how best to avoid an ill-tempered encounter.
They reached a small trading town established around an oasis before long, thankfully. After refilling their canteens and larger water vessels, the caravaners wandered around to do business with the many merchants who sold goods at stands in the marketplace. Deekin was among them; Daschnaya had instructed him to buy fourteen boxes of green tea, and after purchasing the tea from a mousy gnome woman with a lazy eye, the kobold happily proceeded to search the bazaar and buy things of his own.
The first thing he looked for was a clothier--Daschnaya had been polite about it, but his dirty urchin rags were starting to smell, and they were his last change of clothes. The clothier he found was a half-elven man with electric blue eyes and a scraggly clump of tan hair he kept scooped up in a ponytail, and had such pale skin he had to hide under a blanket to keep from crisping in the hot sun--it was a very stylish blanket, of course. He found Deekin a dozen pairs of clothing obviously designed for halflings, but they would do. Deekin paid for the clothes with a fistful of gems he'd taken from the manticore's hoard, then ducked behind a building on the brink of the desert to change into a clean outfit, which consisted of a thick-collared red tunic and a plain pair of brown breeches. Feeling dandy, the kobold continued on.
The next merchant he dealt with was a human, a native Bedine man with a nose like a potato and shifty, bulging dark eyes. Deekin bought from him a new lute--his old one was splintery and decrepit--as well as a blank book, for it was difficult to write on a single sheet of paper when walking, let alone running from hellish creatures. Deekin gave the man a few lumps of gold in payment and started to turn away, when something caught his eye--a slender glass vase of star-shaped pink flowers, the vase twinkling in the desert sun and set upon a small table. Having never seen a flower before in his life--cactus buds aside--Deekin was instantly intrigued by the bouquet.
"Those be flowers?" he asked curiously, stretching out a small, scaly hand to touch the vase. The Bedine merchant slapped the kobold's hand away and avered, "Yes, my scaly friend, those are indeed, flowers, finest you'll find in the An--anywhere, but in the Anauroch especially. They were watered with only the finest water from the purest springs, grown in the fertile fields of Maztica, from the seeds of a fair dryad's tree, coaxed to life after years of loving labor by the best farmers in all of Calimshan--"
"You just say flowers was grown in Maztica," Deekin interrupted.
"Well, uh, the best farmers in all of Calimshan went to Maztica to grow the seeds," the merchant gibbered quickly.
"Oh, okies," Deekin accepted. "Deekin buys them, then."
"For a ladyfriend?" the merchant chuckled, amused at the thought of a kobold romance.
"Something likes that," Deekin smiled. "How much does they cost?"
The merchant tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I'd say--" He paused, then asked, "About how much money in gold pieces would you say you have?"
"Umm, Deekin dunno, he gots lots of gems and gold...1,110 goldpieces, maybe?" the kobold estimated.
"Oh, what a coincidence!" the merchant smirked. "The flowers cost 1,110 goldpieces!"
"But...but that be all Deekin's money!" Deekin protested.
"Well, they are very rare," the merchant said steadfastly. "I could just wait until a customer who is willing to pay comes along, and I have a lot of customers who'd be glad to take them, who'd pay more for them than some selfish little lizard."
"Okay, Deekin pays it," Deekin relented mournfully, taking off his pack and removing all the valuable jewels and precious metals, then imparting them to merchant's greedy, grubby hands. The merchant's eyes lit up; after pocketing the goods with a yellow-toothed grin, he shoved the vase into Deekin's arms.
"Now go on, get out of here," he commanded. "You're scaring away my customers." Deekin obediently walked away, unaware he'd just been swindled, and inspected the flowers. They were pretty, of course, but didn't quite live up to his expectations. For instance, he hadn't expected the flowers to smell like cheap cologne. Or feel like coarse cloth. But he was certain that he was just being picky.
Deekin left the hustle and bustle of the bazaar, haggling voices screeching argumentatively at each other and occasionally shouting snide insults his way--kobolds weren't exactly popular--until he came upon the caravan, parked just outside the disagreeable town. After giving Daschnaya her boxes of tea, Deekin stopped and examined the caravan encampment. The central caravan was Umbra's. Walking past Katriana, who was tapping her foot as she impatiently awaited the other caravaners' returns, Deekin made his way to that caravan. Setting the vase down in the sand beneath the caravan, where it would be out of sight to anyone looking out, Deekin climbed midway up the short steps and knocked lightly on the door.
Dorna opened it and looked down at him.
"Yes, what is it you want?" the dwarf asked with a hint of suspicion.
"Umbra be in there?" he questioned.
"No, actually," Dorna replied. "She left quite a while ago."
"Where she go?"
"Hmm, that way, I think." Dorna pointed off to the west, where only miles of desert sands lie. "It's strange, but she wanders off every night and always gets back safely. I wouldn't worry about it."
"Oh," Deekin uttered with a sinking feeling of disappointment. "Oh...thanks for telling Deekin. Me be going now." Dorna nodded and shut the door as he leapt down off the steps, taking the vase out from under the caravan and pushing it down in his pack. He heaved a saddened sigh and sat down in the sand; he wouldn't be seeing Umbra today, either. Some other time, perhaps...
Deekin sat there in the sand for a while, laden with ennui as he dipped his toes in the sand, then flung them back out and twiddled them. He should probably be working on copying his old notes into the blank pages of his new book, but didn't feel up to the task right then. At least the sun wasn't as hot as it had been--in fact, he couldn't even see it past that strange cloud off to the west.
Wait. That was a strange cloud, Deekin realized, staring at it studiously. It appeared to be a wall of sand...
"SANDSTORM!" panic-stricken voices rang out. The marketplace closed up in a hurry, and the caravaners came rushing back to camp, shutting themselves up in the caravans for cover against the oncoming storm. Deekin scrambled to his feet and ran to Daschnaya's caravan, then paused and headed for the middle wagon instead, hopping up the steps and pounding on the door. Dorna opened it with a disgruntled look.
"What do ye want now?" she grumbled.
"Umbra be in there with you?" he inquired.
"No, she isn't," Dorna answered. "It doesn't matter. She can take care of herself."
"But this be sandstorm!" Deekin cried. Dorna shrugged and shut the door against the flying grains of sand already whipping through the air. Deekin groaned and stepped down, staring off at the west. Umbra was out there, somewhere, and as great a hero as she was, stood no chance against the forces of nature. The storm would be even worse where she was--could she even see? Would she be able to find her way back after the disorienting sand flurry finally passed? Probably not; the thought of Umbra getting lost in the desert made Deekin queasy. Someone had to go out to get her and lead her back to camp. The kobold cast a look around the encampment, but everyone was inside the caravans, waiting for the storm to blow over. It didn't look like anyone else would be volunteering to go out and look for her.
Determined, Deekin thanked Kurtulmak for his full canteen of fresh water, raised a hand over squinted eyes to ward off the rogue sand grains, and set off into the storm.
---
Deekin made his way through wave after wave of blinding sand. He did his best to shield his eyes with his hands, but the strong winds forced sand through anyway, forcing him to close his eyes altogether. Not that it made much difference; the sand obstructed so much of his vision he was blinded either way. His eyes swelled with tears in an attempt to flood some of the grit out, but his eyelids squeezed shut over the eyeballs and kept the sand lodged firmly where it was. This caused him a great deal of discomfort, and that was to say nothing of the sand filling his nostrils and impairing his breathing. He clamped his jaws shut, but some sand found its way into his mouth anyway, coating his tongue with an unpleasant, dusty taste as the surging storm blasted his scales. Considering all this and the fierce wind pushing him back or bowling him over every other step, it was obvious that the best thing now would be to turn back; yet the kobold persevered, unable to bear the notion of leaving his dear hero behind.
Deekin didn't know how long he'd been struggling on, but decided he should open his eyes and see if he could see anything. He opened them, and did see something--a dark claw reaching past the veil of sand to grab him.
"-- --- ------ --- down!" instructed a voice, the rest of its sentence drowned out by roaring winds. The clawlike hand slapped Deekin on the back and shoved him facedown in the sand.
At first, Deekin sputtered and floundered his limbs, trying to get back up, but the hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades prevented him from doing so. Gradually he stopped fighting, and he found that by keeping low to the ground, most of the sandstorm passed over him harmlessly. After some time, the sandstorm subsided and the claw lifted from his back. Spitting out a mouthful of sand, Deekin leapt to his feet and whirled around to see who had held him there.
It was Umbra.
"Boss?" he piped in disbelief, though quite pleased. "What you be doing here?"
"I saw you fighting against the winds," she replied. "I would ask what you are doing out here."
"Boss be out all alone, lost in the sandstorm," he explained, "so little Deekin goes out to helps the great hero." He looked down at his feet. "Only...it seems the great hero helped little Deekin, huh?"
Umbra was silent a moment; then she knelt down to get a closer look at Deekin.
"This one wishes to know...why do you call me a 'great hero'?" she queried.
"Because that what Boss be!" Deekin responded. "You protects the weak, you vanquishes the forces of evil, you be great hero of song and legend! That be why Deekin has to writes your story, and preserves it for future generations!"
There was another silence; Deekin took this oppurtunity to wipe some sand out of his eyes.
"That is what you believe me to be, is it?" she wondered, to which Deekin nodded cheerily. "Very well, then. That is what this one...that is what I shall be." Deekin didn't quite understand that part, but nodded again anyway.
"One more thing," Umbra added. "Why do you call me 'Boss'?"
"Because you be the Boss, Boss!" Deekin stated matter-of-factly. "You wants Deekin should calls you something else?"
"You may call me by my name," she answered.
"Okay, Umbra Lumina! Deekin does whatever you says, Umbra Lumina!" he tried obediently.
"On second thought...'Boss' would be preferable."
"Okies, Boss!"
"You can lead us back to the caravan, can you not?"
"Yep! Err...that is, yep, Deekin can."
"Then lead the way, Deekin."
It was the first time she had ever spoken his name when referring to him directly, and that made Deekin feel special.
"Right away, Boss!"
Off they went, the nebbish sidekick and the stolid hero.
---
The sandstorm had mostly died off, but little flecks of sand still hovered in the air. Deekin coughed on the airborne grains as he puzzled out the way back to camp; the sun was just past high noon before the sandstorm set in, and now it was about ready to set. Recalling instructions from an old book, Deekin was able to calculate the approximate position of the caravan encampment. Assuming he hadn't wandered too far east or west, they should come upon the camp eventually.
Deekin glanced up at Umbra and noticed that she was holding up the very crystal she had bargained with him for back in the Silver Marches. The sphere sparkled in the light of the dusky sky, reminding Deekin of that time he had been leaving the crypt and held the crystal up to dawnlight--how long ago had that been?--and prompting him to ask Umbra, "What you knows about little crystal?"
Umbra was quiet a moment; the sky went a little darker. At last, she said, "I know that it is called a mythallar." Deekin's heart jumped as he remembered what Daschnaya had said about one of the students knowing more than they were letting on.
"What else you knows about it?" he prodded.
Umbra was very hesitant, but she told him, "This is one of many powerful artifacts from the time of the ancient civilization of Netheril. The arcane energy they generated kept the Netherese cities adrift."
"Really?!" Deekin squeaked. "All that power be in one little crystal?"
"Indeed," Umbra went on. "There is a great extent of power contained in this. Were the mythallar to be damaged, the contained energy would be unleashed, causing great destruction for several miles." Deekin's stomach churned.
"Umm...suddenly Deekin feel sick...he play catch with crystal for hours back in hills," he said queasily.
"Then may Vecna be praised that it remains intact," she venerated emotionlessly, slipping the mythallar back into her pack as they walked on. The sun had dipped below the horizon entirely now, leaving behind a pitch-black sky. Deekin admired the happily twinkling stars which pierced the otherwise bleak night--the moon was just a pallid sliver--and smiled, shivering a little in the new night chill.
"Night sky be pretty, huh Boss?" he remarked.
"It is a beautiful sight," she agreed. There was a short silence.
"You looks at the stars, Boss?"
"No." Umbra's tone was still blank, but strangely faded. "This one gazes at their shadows."
"Their shadows?" Deekin repeated quizzically, scrutinizing the sky. "Deekin not sees any star shadows."
"They are not meant to be seen," she returned. "The shadows are concealed...but they are there."
"Oh." Deekin was pensive. "But the stars themselves be nice to look at."
"Yes," Umbra recognized, "I suppose they are, after all."
"Yep!" Deekin beamed. "There be lots of them! And there be constellations--the stars makes pictures! Deekin knows them all--well, most of them--by heart."
"Do you really?" Umbra inquired, her voice picking up a little strength as she pointed up to a star twinkling brilliant in the northern hemisphere. "What is that star called?"
So Deekin told her, and that is how the night proceeded. As they journeyed on in search of the caravan, Umbra would ask about various stars, and Deekin would name them, then detail a constellation or ancient myth that went along with it. His facts were a little distorted--it had been a while since he read any books on astronomy--but that hardly mattered to either of them. As they conversed, Deekin noticed a surprising thing: Umbra's voice had emotion. The emotion was vague, but it was there; she was happy.
---
It took long enough, but Deekin got them back to camp eventually. The two stood on a tall sand dune overlooking the site from a distance, viewing the three sections of the caravan, the oxen pen, and the caravaners out calling their names.
"Deekin guesses we gots to go now, huh?" Deekin said reluctantly, sad that it had to end.
"Indeed," Umbra relented, also remorseful. They lingered silently for another moment.
"Oh!" Deekin cried suddenly, his eyes widening. He took off his pack and set it on the ground, searching through it and bringing out the vase of flowers, offering them to Umbra. "Deekin buys these for you." Umbra took them carefully.
"Deekin..." To his surprise, she reached a spidery hand out and lightly stroked his temple; her touch was cool and comforting. "Thank you. I shall cherish them."
"You is welcome, Boss," he smiled brightly as she put the flowers in her own pack, then withdrew something from it. Unclasping one long, dark hand, she dropped something in his palm.
"I have little to give, so I give you this," she said to him, her voice even happier than it had been all night, though still quiet. She started away toward the encampment. "Farewell, until our next meeting."
"Farewell," Deekin echoed, watching her go and slip away into the middle caravan, then turned his attention to what she had placed in his palm. It was a black shard of something, but Umbra had given it to him, and that made it more precious than any gem.
Tucking the dark shard into a small pocket on his new tunic, Deekin put his pack back on and rushed off to Daschnaya's caravan.
---
Deekin got very little sleep that night. Not only had he spent much of it wandering the desert, but as soon as he got back he took out his notes and his blank book and copied the old notes onto the crisp new pages, improving not just the neatness and handwriting but the general story quality as well. Once this had been accomplished, he excitedly dipped his quill in the inkwell and wrote all about that night. Finally, he finished. With a last satisfied smile at his work, he let sleep overcome him and dropped onto his bedroll without even crawling in, falling into a tranquil, pleasant slumber.
---
After another week of traveling--and incessant story-editing, on Deekin's part--the caravan came to yet another halt. The other caravaners poured out, and from where he was, Deekin could hear a great whoopla being made outside.
"They sounds very excited," he commented.
"And they should be!" Katriana cried, bursting into Daschnaya's caravan. "We're here!"
(But where is here? Find out this and more, in Chapter Eleven! Don't forget to review, mind you.)