(A/N: True, I'm not churning out the chapters like I used to...but I like to think these chapters are of better quality than the old ones. It makes me feel better about myself when I make excuses like that. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter: Coranth, Zovesta, Guan, ShadowLark, snackfriend101, the colonels chicken, Lissette, and VaguelyFamiliar. You guys are awesome! I'm glad you don't mind a Deekin/PC romance, either, since it's the main reason I wrote this story in the first place.
Disclaimer: I really DON'T own Neverwinter Nights, Dungeons & Dragons, or Forgotten Realms. I probably don't own Forbidden Realms, either, seeing as how I say I don't.)
Chapter Fifteen
Deekin completed the last sentence and closed his notebook with a relieved sigh.
"Finally!" he exclaimed. "Deekin finishes writing abouts Boss's adventures in the Crypt Tower! He remembers to adds part where they meets evil snake lady, too...Deekin just realizes he not writes that down." They had left the Crypt Tower some time ago, and were now wandering Undrentide's dusty, weaving halls in search of the next Wind.
"A wondrous thing indeed," Umbra commended, striding along slowly enough that Deekin could stay nearer her side.
"Yip!" Deekin realized his mistake and corrected himself, "Yep." His chin itched, so he scratched it, but was instantly aware it gave him the impression of looking thoughtful, so he thought up something to say. "Boss, how come you talks different than when we first meets?"
"Does this one?" Umbra paused. "Oh, this one knows what you mean. When this one was Drogan's pupil, Drogan taught her many things. Over the years, this one learned to fight very well, but her speech was inadequate, said the dwarf. He strived to school this one in better speaking skills, such as saying 'I' and 'me' rather than this one. This one learned to do so, after some trial and error; yet still she was criticized, and Drogan implored her to show emotion. This was much more difficult, this one found, yet she persevered and succeeded somewhat by mimicking the words of the household's most emotional: Xanos."
Thinking back to their first encounter, Deekin realized that "before I lose my patience" did sound like something the arrogant, temperamental half-orc would say. Umbra spoke yet, so he cleared his mind and listened.
"The only trouble was that emotion comes with difficulty to this one, and she failed to show any despite her choice of words. This one did her best, but always failed Drogan in that respect, though she compensated with her combat skills and arcane prowess. As we traveled the desert, though, this one fell back into her old ways of speaking."
"Deekin knows what you means," the kobold commented empathetically. "Old Boss tries and tries to gets Deekin to talks right. Deekin stops yipping, but when Deekin talks Old Boss still yells at Deekin, 'You should says I, not me!' Deekin tries hard to says it right, but he gets all confused and just says Deekin instead of me. Old Boss be mad then, and he says Deekin should says I, but Deekin forgets that too, and finally Old Boss just puts Deekin in little hole and keeps him there for four days and never tries to teach Deekin right again."
"That must have been unpleasant," Umbra commented sympathetically.
"Yeah, it not be fun, especially when Deekin gots to goes to the bathroom," he replied with a grimace, then paused. "In fact, Deekin thinks he gots to go right now. Can we stops for a moment, Boss?"
"Of course," she consented.
"Thanks, Boss," he thanked abashedly, hurrying off to do his business in some abandoned corner. Umbra stood patiently in the same spot until he returned.
"Deekin," she requested once they were walking again, "would you sing a song?"
"Oooh! You wants to hear Deekin sing!" he responded excitedly. "Deekin gladly sing for Boss!" He had nearly forgotten about the handsome new lute slung by a leather strap over his shoulder. Taking it off, he held it in his hands and checked it for damage. Amazingly, it had suffered only a few minor cracks after all this. Tuning the strings, he gave them a few test plucks and grinned.
"Deekin sings you the doom song! Doom doom doom! DOOM! Doom! Doom doom doom! DOOM!! We is doomed! Doom doom doom-doom doom DOOM!! Doom doom doom-doom doom DOOM!! Doom doom doom-doom doom DOOM!!" he belted, finding the Doom Song played on a lute to be a truly entrancing sound.
"Are you saying we are doomed?" Umbra asked, perplexed.
"DOOM!! Doom doom doom-doom doom DOOM!!" Deekin replied enthusiastically. The Doom Song was remarkably long, as well as possessing an uncanny ability to attract and enrage enemies; eighteen furious giant spiders and twenty-five minutes later, he was still singing it gleefully, without signs of stopping.
"Deekin...perhaps you could sing another song," Umbra suggested wearily.
"Sure thing, Boss!" he responded. Tuning his lute yet again, he racked his brain, mumbling, "Umm... mumble... mumble mumble... Deekin forgets the lyrics... la-te-da..." Ever resourceful, he burst into song nonetheless. "Oh-hhhh! Deekin's singing a song, yeah! Deekin's singing a song! He forgets how it goes, but nobody knows, 'cause Deekin's singing a so-ooong!! Dum-de-dum! Deekin and the Boss! De-dum-de-dum! Deekin and the Boss, yeah!!"
"Deekin..."
"Different song, Boss?"
"Different something...this one is not so certain she would like to hear another song just yet."
"Deekin tries poetry, maybe?" he ventured, slipping the lute back over his shoulder.
"Why not?" she consented. Well, Deekin hadn't spent the better part of his life reading musty old books in a morbidly obese dragon's den for nothing, and proved this by reciting a score of short poems, including:
"I went with the Duchess to tea,
Her manners were shocking to see!
Her rumblings abdominal
Were simply phenomenal,
And everyone thought it was me!
"There once was a man from the Moonsea,
Whose limericks only went to line three,
And never went farther.
"There once was a wizard of Thay,
Who never had time to play!
His patience eroded
until his head exploded,
and the stain never quite went away!
"There once was a man from Waterdeep,
Who had three wives he couldn't keep!
When asked, 'Why not one?'
He said, 'Because it's fun!'
"'Though I never get much time to sleep!'
"There once was a lady from Icewind Dale,
Who baked cakes that soon went stale.
The smell, unappealing,
had the entire town reeling,
Until a dwarf ate the cakes with his ale."
"Look!" Umbra cut in before Deekin could start again. She walked up to a viny black portcullis and lowered it by pressing down on a slender lever at its base. "We are here."
"Where be here?" Deekin wondered, scampering over curiously.
"This is the Great Library of Undrentide," Umbra answered pleasantly, stepping over the lowered portcullis and beckoning for Deekin to do the same. "This one thinks you would greatly enjoy this place." So saying, she gestured to the large room they had stepped into. Stretching up to a very high ceiling were four colossal bookcases, each one covering a broad wall. The floor wasn't empty either, divided into aisles by small--but still large--bookshelves. Deekin darted through a few in amazement, and saw that packed among the books on the wallside bookcases were open doors. Peeking through one of the doors, he could see another room as grand and book-filled as the first.
"Great Library really be great!" he remarked excitedly, bringing out his writing supplies and scribbling the details down as fast as he could. This accomplished, he stowed the supplies in his pack again and eagerly reached for a book. Upon its opening, the volume's aged pages crumbled into mildewy dust. To his dismay, so did the next four books the kobold opened.
"Aaaww..." he uttered in dismay. "Of all Netherese magics, Deekin not believes there not be any to keep books readable!"
"Well...at the very least, it does make for an interesting observation for your tale, does it not?" Umbra tried optimistically.
"Deekin guesses," he shrugged, returning the decrepit tomes to their places on the shelf. He'd been looking forward to seeing what kind of books the ancient Netherese peoples had read, but he supposed he should focus on finding the next Wind anyway. Wherever it was.
"Where Boss thinks we finds next Wind?" he queried, ambling obsequiously over to where Umbra stood.
"Yet again, this one has no idea," she said regretfully. "Rather than informing this one of anything of value, m'lord lent himself more to rambling about personal issues. Over, and over, and over."
"That bad?"
"You cannot begin to imagine," Umbra grumbled. "This one is hoping more and more that we somehow avoid encountering m'lord again."
"Deekin empathizes," he told her truthfully. Umbra started forward.
"Perhaps the Wise Wind is hidden behind one of the books on these shelves," she proposed, and began yanking books off the shelf haphazardly. Deekin sadly watched the tossed books crumble into several pieces upon impact with the floor, but understood Umbra's sudden haste: the faster they found the Winds, the faster they could stop Heurodis and be out of Undrentide, thereby avoiding an encounter with "m'lord". Deekin himself was wary of meeting anything powerful enough to lord over Umbra, and began tugging books off the shelves as well. A half-hour later, they had emptied three regular bookcases of their contents and were working on stripping the bottom half of one of the immense wallside bookcases.
Deeking gripped one book by the spine and prepared to fling it aside and move on to the next, but caught himself. This book was in better condition than the others, he saw, and opened it to the middle. This was blank; curious, he flipped back past sheets and sheets of aged, but blank paper. Only the first two pages contained any text, which was written in a peculiar, scratchy handwriting and read:
"I can smell your feet.
Their odor lingers even these many years
after you last tread here.
Now there is only dust and shadows,
as my belly
scrapes
the ground...
Dagget Filth
Year 832 after The Fall
Damn, I'm bored..."
"Strange," Deekin muttered to himself, tucking the book in pack without care--the spider guts were almost completely dry now. "Deekin wonders who Dagget Filth be?" He pulled out his writing supplies, made a note of this, then put them back in the backpack and stretched his aching joints. As he stretched, he glimpsed the door that was embedded in this large bookcase and led into another room. Curious, he peeked his head through the doorway and saw that this room was much identical to the prior...but in the center of the room were two very large books splayed open and propped up on stands. Deekin was intrigued, and about to scuttle over and investigated, when he caught himself.
"You remembers what happens last time you wanders off by yourself?" he scolded himself, remembering the vicious manticore attack that had ensued, then paused thoughtfully. "Actually, that be second-to-last-time...last time, Deekin redeems Burning Men! Even Boss be impressed!" He shone at this memory and snuck into the next room, his mind made up. "Besides, they only be books..."
Deekin approached the oversized tomes with some degree of awe and wonder--this was the fallen city of Undrentide, after all. He looked first at the tome on his right, whose pages were cloaked with a thick film of dust. He inhaled and blew the dust off, coughing and choking in the resulting miniature dust storm. Blinking furiously and clearing the air with sweeps of his hands, he squinted down at the revealed pages, only to find that the ink that once covered them had all but faded away, leaving a pale, blank surface. The kobold grumbled and wandered over to the second tome, pressed back-to-back with the first. He was more careful about cleaning off the pages on this book, and brushed them gently with his sleeve, then gazed at them scrutinously.
Dust still covered the pages of what appeared to be an unassuming romance novel. It was lovingly illustrated, though the inks had dulled with age, and Deekin admired the fine detail with which the frown lines had been etched in a drawing of a young man's face, adding grief but not age. He turned his attention to the ornately lettered tale itself, and couldn't help but read it. The young man was a blind beggar named William who, though strong of build and noble of bearing, was cursed with blindness and a twisted leg that had left him lame. He mourned a woman named Jendra, and though Deekin couldn't flip back through the frail pages to find out who she was, it was quite clear she meant a lot to the blind boy, who wailed and bemoaned his sweetheart's plight unrelentingly. The uniform letters in which the tale was written conveyed a great deal of emotion and acute description, so as Deekin read, he could almost see the day sky waning into the darkness of a starless night, the untamed grass and gnarly trees which seemed to wither with the sorrow of the moment, and the sightless cripple himself, whose unseeing eyes poured rivers of tears into the bowl of his cupped hands. The flowers were in full bloom despite his despair, and their intoxicating aroma reminded him of his lost beloved.
"Jendra, sweet Jendra you are gone! Betrayed by kin and clan and I, your William, I can do nothing more for you than weep! O gods, thy names art Cruelty and Injustice!" he sobbed, standing only with the support of a knobby cane lodged in the crook of his arm.
"Nice sentiment, but Deekin thinks speech be overdone," Deekin remarked thoughtfully. "He be sad! Crying be most convincing by itself, Deekin thinks."
"Wh-what? Who are you?" William cried, breaking from his grievance and wobbling on his cane and working leg, listening for what his eyes could not see.
"Huh?" Deekin scanned the area around him. No longer was he in the Great Library of Undrentide, poring over an ancient tome; no, now he stood in a small forest, with walls of trees whose leaves hung like tears from their branches. And there before him stood William, looking almost as startled and frightened as the kobold himself.
"Deekin...be...in story?" Deekin pondered hesitantly. This only confused William more. Deekin forced a grin to comfort him, though William couldn't see it. This was for the best, as it would only have distressed him further to see a kobold baring his teeth at him.
"Deekin be Deekin, of course!" Deekin scratched his head nervously. "And...umm...you be William, right?" William dipped his head slowly in a wary nod.
"How do you know my name?" he wondered, gripping his cane with both hands so tightly his knuckles blanched. "Did Jendra's wicked stepmother send you to kill me?"
"Wicked stepmother? That really be overdone," Deekin muttered to himself.
"What?" William asked, growing more perplexed by the moment.
"Uhh...what Deekin means is...Deekin not here to kills you!" Deekin said quickly. Deekin reasoned that he had fallen under some sort of Netherese enchantment, and been absorbed into the story as he read it. He'd read of such spells before, and the only way out was to go along with the storyline until it ended. "What Deekin means is, what happened and how can Deekin helps?"
"On learning of our love, Jendra's stepmother sent her to that monastery across the way," William explained with a frown, pointing across a short bridge to a cave gaping out of a rock wall like a moaning mouth. "An ill wind comes from it, though, I can smell it on the air. I fear for her." Letting go of his cane, he crashed dramatically to his knees, clapping his face into his palms. "O! that I were a knight and had the means to charge to her rescue! Alas, since birth the gods have cursed me with eyes that cannot see and a twisted leg that leaves me lame. It is enough I have made it this far without dying heartbroken, blind, and lonely within the depths of some crevasse. O sweet Jendra, this world is a tragedy for us both."
"Calm down, everything going to be okay," Deekin assured him awkwardly. It wasn't often grown men broke down and bemoaned their life in front of him, fictional or no.
"'Okay...' That is all my life can ever be now without her," William said morosely, dabbing his tearful blind eyes on his blue shirt sleeve. "Gone are the days of 'wonderful' and 'splendid'... Gone is her beauty from my world. Everything is drab and plain and ordinary again."
"Maybe Deekin helps somehow," the kobold suggested helpfully. "What Jendra looks like?" Upon this query, a light went into William's unseeing face.
"A girl with the softest voice and the smoothest skin," he reminisced dreamily. "Her lips on mine were ever tender. Noble by blood and nobler yet by soul, I loved her and she loved me in return..." William trailed off, his mood darkening again as he remembered the circumstances.
"Very nice, but that not helps much," Deekin sighed. "Neverminds. Deekin figures it out. Now...you says she be in big, spooky monastery in that cave over there?" Deekin pointed at said cave; though he couldn't see, Willian nodded. "Okay, Deekin just wants to makes sure."
"So you'll help me?" William cried gleefully. "You'll save my darling Jendra as I cannot?"
"Of course!" the kobold grinned. "After all, Deekin gots Bo--" For the first time, it occurred to him that Umbra was still in the real world, and he was on his own. William's hopeful face tugged at his conscience, though; reluctantly, he gulped and finished, "Deekins helps."
"Thank-you, thank-you!" William gushed, tears of joy as well as sorrow streaming down his face.
"You be welcome...just try not to dehydrates while Deekin gone, okies?" Deekin returned.
Crossing the bridge was something of a trial in itself, as the architecture of it was far from stable, and it swung recklessly with every step Deekin took, no matter how gentle that step was. Finally, the kobold resorted to racing across the structure. Once he did, there was the cave, towering menacingly over him like a great maw preparing to bite. An ominous wind did indeed flow out of it, carrying the smell of blood and sulphur and the sound of tortured screams on it. Deekin shivered and seriously considered turning back. But then he thought...how would he feel if it was Umbra in there? If it were he who could only stand idly by outside and beg for someone, anyone to save her? It was highly unlikely that Umbra would ever be the "damsel in distress" of any tale, but what if? Besides, if he didn't complete the story, he'd never get out and he probably wouldn't ever see her again. Powered by his own determination and good will, Deekin set off into the cave's fear-inspiring depths and immediately regretted it. The story refused to let him turn back, however, and forced him to keep going.
The cave's entrance led into a narrow passage, which little Deekin had no trouble slipping through. At the end was a thick wooden door with diamond-shaped patterns. It looked innocent enough, but for its scorches and suspicious stains, and the many cracks through which echoing shrieks and fetid scents wafted. Deekin trembled, but the story took hold of his arm and he pushed the door inward. He stepped into a small room, stone-walled room, which seemed vacant, though the air was pungent. He didn't see anyone, and he started to relax when a shrill voice fumed impertently, "An intruder?! Come, sister, it must not interfere with the ritual!"
Ritual? Deekin thought for a split second, any worries with a ritual replaced with concern for his own well-being as two women sprung from their hiding places. Their weapons were long metal maces with sharp spikes on either end, and the women themselves wore bronze armor and looks of seething hatred, dead set on eradicating the trespassing kobold. Deekin didn't hope to overpower them in battle; espying a door to his left, he bolted toward it. The door stuck for a moment, to his horror, then gave way to his pushing and caved in. Nearly falling down, Deekin caught himself, scrambled in and slammed the door behind him--only to find he had leapt from the kettle to the flames.
This room was larger than the first, cloaked in darkness and smelling like death. Several armed women chanted arcane verses, standing in a ring around a corpse. Deekin's heart was pounding impossibly fast, but he dared a closer look. Lying facedown in its own blood, the corpse was that of a fair young woman, almost certainly...Jendra.
The ritual was then completed in a burst of red smoke, and the smell of brimstone washed over the room as a humongous red devil rose up from nowhere, its dark eyes glinting evilly, membranous wings flapping to pull itself up into this new realm, jaw stretching and boasting sharp black fangs as it roared triumphantly. The women joined in the devil's victorious call with their own vicious laughter, and, brandishing heavy weapons, turned around to face Deekin. He backed up a step and closed his eyes, wincing at the pain to come...
...and opened them again when it didn't. He was gone from that dreaded place, to his relief, and once again stood in a cavernous room of Undrentide's Great Library, leaned over the old text of an ancient romance novel. After assuring himself that he was safe, he looked down at the story's final words.
"THE END."
How blatant. Deekin couldn't help but pity poor William and Jendra, even if they weren't real. He grimaced thoughtfully; then, shrugging off his pack, he took out a stout inkwell and a scraggly quill pen. Dipping the pen in the ink, he stirred it well and took it out. With vigorous strokes, he slashed out the words that composed the unhappy ending; then, stirring the quill in ink again, he put the pen to what little space was left on the second page and wrote his own ending. It wasn't elaborate, and didn't take long, but when he finished he was content with it. He read it:
"Sunlight streamed into the long-dark temple..."
Predictably, the surrounding library gave way to the fictional area of the brightened temple. Sure enough, sunlight streamed in the temple through broad breaks in the ceiling, illuminated the scattered corpses on the floor--one devil, hunched over bitterly, and seven women, their faces contorted in hatred even in death. In the center of the room, standing untouched by this gore, were Jendra and William. No longer blind or lame, William wore a shiny blue suit of armor and held in his arms a very lovely, very alive Jendra, who wore a dress yellow as sunflowers. They saw Deekin approach and greeted him with beaming smiles.
"A different ending than the last, isn't it, my friend?" William greeted joyously. "She lives! She bears a face more beautiful than I had ever imagined and I bear the eyes to see it! Jendra, my Lady Love, this is Deekin Scalesinger who saved us both!"
"My beloved Sir William says it was by your hand that he was knighted," she said in sweet voice. "For that, I shall always thank you. His rescue was most gallant, especially since I thought it was a kindly beggar youth I loved."
"A ruse, a lover's ruse, sweet Jendra, that I might win your heart's true affection and not have you simply love the Sir before my name!" Sir William chided her lovingly. "I know, now and forever, that you love me for who I truly am!" She giggled at this and he hugged her tighter.
"Yeah, it be nice ending, good and happy," Deekin agreed. "Be a little cliched, but Deekin working on deadline, here."
"Aye, come what may, true love has found me," Sir William smiled. "And what of you, Deekin? Have you found what it was you were looking for? Do you still seek the Wise Wind?"
"Yep," he nodded, "Deekin still looking. But...Deekin think he might know where it be."
"That is good," William said. "Travel well, my friend, and may the pages of your life never grow brittle."
"Sames to you, Sir William," Deekin grinned, then paused.
"What is it, my friend?" Sir William encouraged, noticing his hesitation.
"It be dumb question, really," Deekin decided.
"I have dwelt in this book for a very long time. I'm sure I can help."
"Well..." He was reluctant, but finally asked, "How you knows you be in love?"
"Oh." Sir William smiled and kissed his beloved's forehead delicately. "You feel it in your heart, in your soul..." He stopped, at a loss for better words.
"You just know," Jendra finished. "If you love someone, you want to be with them, all the rest of your life. You want to hold them, be close to them...you know."
"Oh," Deekin said, and smiled. "Thanks, Lady Jendra." And then he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was again in the Great Library. Without hesitation, he scurried over the other, practically blank tome. As he'd told William, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew how to capture the Wise Wind, but couldn't be sure until he tried. So, he dipped the quill in ink once again, and began writing on the faded vellum. His writing was large and sloppy in his excitement, and took up a good portion of the first page--keep in mind that each page was nearly as tall as Deekin himself, and even wider. Still, he got it written, and read it over with gleeful anticipation:
"Beside a calm oasis, the intrepid kobold, Deekin Scalesinger, sprung his trap upon the Wise Wind..."
The library vanished, and the serene setting of a sparkling desert oasis flanked by two palm trees appeared in its stead. Deekin stood off to the side, enjoying the serenity of the scene his words had summoned, when the oasis began to bubble. The bubbles grew more plentiful, creating a froth, and out of the froth rose a great bubble, large enough to contain a full-grown man if he crouched. The bubble floated up out of the waters, a spectrum of colors glossing its surface, and Deekin watched it go with wonder. The bubble hovered several feet above the small oasis, and trembled violently; then, with a ridiculously amplified exploding sound, it popped, and a whirlwind swirled down out of where it had been. The Wise Wind was a spinning dervish, touching down on the oasis and spinning water up into its gaseous being. Sand grains flew into the windy mass as well, granting the Wise Wind a tubular, brownish appearance.
Deekin was unfearing, as a silvery shortbow appeared in his hands. He drew it back, and a glittering arrow shimmered into being between the bow and its taut string. Deekin let it go, and it shot off into the Wind's tornadic center. The Wind screamed, a sound like a breeze blowing between the cracks in a cliff; then it sighed and died down, descending into a whirlpool in the oasis's waters, then even that settled. With a gentle plop, a small, glowing orb broke the water's surface and floated there harmlessly. Deekin reached as far he could and scooped it out. With a satisfied smile, he gazed fondly down at the little sphere in his hands, all that remained of the Wise Wind.
"Deekin?" He turned around, and saw that Umbra stood there. His smile broadened at the sight, and he blinked. Obediently, the oasis scene faded away into the Library once more, but Umbra remained.
"What were you reading?" she asked curiously. Rather than answering, Deekin held his palms out to her.
"Is that...the Wise Wind?" she wondered in astonishment, taking it. She held the small, brilliant globe between two long, dark fingers, her face emotionless as ever. Then with a smile in her voice, she said, "You have done well, Deekin. Very well. This one is proud of you." So saying, she caressed his head gently and gave the Wind back to him.
"You not wants it, Boss?" he wondered.
"You caught the Wind," she answered. "It is yours." She caressed his head once more. "There is one more Wind we must find. Are we ready to move on?"
"We be," Deekin affirmed with a grin.
"Then let us go," said Umbra, walking away at a leisurely pace. Deekin smiled very wide, dropped the Wind gently in his pack, and scurried ahead to Umbra's side. In his heart, in his soul, he knew it was true; he wanted to be with Umbra, to be close to her, to hold her, for all the rest of his life. And if Umbra felt the same way...maybe he could be.
(Please tell me that chapter wasn't too sappy...anyway, Chapter Sixteen is coming! Eventually. And it will be worth the wait for a change! Also, I finished the main Morrowind quest, so it shouldn't take forever to get around to writing this time. Hey look, horizontal line!)