(A/N: I haven't been writing like I should. Blame my dogs--they chewed up the keyboard cord, thereby ruining the keyboard. My "new" keyboard came from the attic, and the A and G keys hate me. Oh well. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you know who you are :) Please, keep reviewing. This is the longest--and, in my humble opinion, best--chapter yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own Neverwinter Nights, Dungeons and Dragons, or Forgotten Realms. Never have, never will.)
Chapter Sixteen
"Deekin thinks that Undrentide be very dusty place," Deekin remarked thoughtfully, sneezing to punctuate his point.
"Is it now?" Umbra sounded amused. "Will that be going into the epic tale?"
"Hmm...somehow Deekin not thinks that fits in real well," he responded. Thinking it over, he described, "'With one arcing swing, the great hero felled the mythic creature of legends old...oh, and by the way, it was real dusty in there.'"
There was something close to laughter in Umbra's tone. "You are right, of course," she agreed.
"Deekin knew Boss would agree," Deekin smiled. They had been walking long enough for Deekin to have written all about his journey in the enchanted library book, and had told Umbra about it as he wrote. Though unsurprised--this was Undrentide, after all--Umbra was very pleased with the way Deekin had handled the situation. This, in turn, pleased Deekin; few things made him happier than praise from the Boss. He left out the part where he asked Jendra and Sir William about love, of course.
A grating metal-on-metal noise caught Deekin's attention.
"You hears that, Boss?" he asked.
"This one did," she avered.
"It be coming from up ahead," he noted.
"Lead the way, but be careful," Umbra instructed. Deekin was glad to do so. He followed the noise up a short passageway, where a doorway cut in the hall's left side led into a small room. Deekin peeked into the room cautiously. Standing in the room's center was a tall, humanoid figure, constructed entirely of sturdy metal. Its metal jaw unhinged with a creaking and scraping noise, and clamped back down with a jarring reverberation. As Deekin listened, the sounds melded into something of a voice, and the voice formed patterns that resembled words, though try as he might, Deekin couldn't understand them.
"That is a golem," Umbra reported, standing over him. Then, as if reading his thoughts, she informed, "It speaks Netherese."
"Does you knows what it says, Boss?" Deekin wondered.
"Yes," Umbra replied. "The golem cries, 'Would you like your home and belongings guarded? If so, come visit the Golem Emporium on Northwest Vizier Street! We have the protection you need!'"
Deekin was ponderously quiet.
"Why?" he finally asked.
"It advertises," she told him. "When Undrentide still flew, the Golem Emporium sold golems to guard homes against thieves. M'lord said he owned one once, very, very, very long ago. It went berserk and tried to kill him after so long, though." With an edge of sarcasm, she added, "What a surprise."
Deekin was astonished. "How old your boss be, anyway?"
"That is something you would have to ask of m'lord himself," Umbra responded, walking ahead and advising Deekin, "Take care not to disturb the golem. It is in bad shape, but it could easily crush you." Deekin heeded her advice, scurrying past the door quickly. When again at Umbra's side, Deekin took out his writing supplies and made a note of the golems. It struck him as sad, somehow, that even after all these millenia, the golem still faithfully advertised for the Emporium.
Undrentide's entirety suddenly gave a tremendous tremor, flinging Deekin to the floor.
"Why...why did ground moves like that?" he asked incredulously. "Deekin not feel ground moves except back when Old Master sleep badly after he eats too much fish. Deekin used to tell Old Master, 'You should not eats so much fish!' That only make Old Master mad, though, so he go eats even more fish.
Then he make ground shake in cave all night. Once Deekin falls in crack in ground and he stucks there for whole week..."
"Heurodis is raising the city," Umbra broke in grimly, helping Deekin to his feet. The city shook again, though not as enthusiastically this time around. "She has discovered how to empower the mythallar. We must hurry." Umbra began walking away briskly. Deekin nodded and ran to keep up, writing, "The evil plan of Heurodis was close to fruition. Our intrepid heroes could only hold their queasy stomachs as the city lurched to life around them."
"Deekin, please hasten your pace," requested Umbra, who wasn't holding her stomach at all.
"Sorries, Boss," he apologized, tucking the supplies away and hurrying to catch up. After some walking and several mild quakes, Umbra stopped in front of a plain, chipped stone door.
"This is the Arcanists' Tower, where we should find the third and final Wind," she said.
"Who be Arcanist and why he gots a tower?" Deekin puzzled.
"There were many Arcanists, actually," Umbra corrected him. "They were the wizarding lords of Undrentide, who kept the city afloat with their arcane abilities. The most powerful was the High Arcanist."
"And they all owns same tower?"
"Yes. Or, they did...they are all dead now, of course. Save the High Arcanist's apprentice."
"Oooh, gotcha." Deekin wrote this down and put his writing supplies away. "Who apprentice be?"
"The lord of m'lord."
"Oh." Deekin pondered this as Umbra pushed the door open, stomach sinking at the thought that Umbra's lord would have a lord. "How your boss still be ali--"
"Come," she commanded. "This one is anxious to capture the last Wind and find Heurodis." So saying, she slipped into the tower.
"Wait--but, Boss..." Deekin started, then sighed. Umbra didn't cherish the idea of discussing "m'lord" when they could be hunting Winds, and neither should he, he supposed. Disappointed, Deekin shambled into the Arcanists' Tower.
The first thing Deekin noticed about the Arcanists' Tower was that it was very, very dark. Fortunately, being a kobold, he was able to navigate through it. He noticed that there were many tables and bookcases in this room, but all had been stripped of their contents, so all that was left was the occasional worm-eaten book or grimy potion bottle--two of which fell and broke after another tremor. Deekin was examining this curiously, when he glimpsed something bright out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around and saw a large fire built up near the center of the room. No, he realized, treading closer, that wasn't a fire--it was a fire elemental, trapped in a small metal cage barely large enough to accustom it at all, let alone comfortably, though the elemental didn't seem to mind its predicament. A humanoid, pot-bellied creature with crusty black skin reminiscent of volcanic rock, and fire bursting out of a veiny network of cracks in the stony skin, the fire elemental bore a silly, sloppy smile, and its flaming sockets stared mindlessly past the rusted bars of its cage. Deekin stared at this oddity for a moment or so before he had to blink his eyes from the brightness. Looking away to give his eyes a rest, he saw that another was near the elemental's cage.
It was a rat. A big, fat, sleeping dire rat. Dire rats are meaner and stronger than regular rats, but Deekin was far from daunted. Rather, he began salivating; he was hungry, and the dried spider guts were looking bland in comparison to plump, unsuspecting rodent before him. Allowing instict to take over, the kobold bunched his muscles and sprang at the rat, sinking his teeth into its fat middle. The dire rat's tough hide kept it from being hurt too badly, though it awoke in a panic.
"I'm awake! I'm awake! Man the hatches, we're diving to three hundred feet!!!" it squeaked frantically, feet skittering uselessly from its suspended position. A moment later, it noticed Deekin's jaws clamped on it.
"What are you doing?" the rodent demanded crossly, swatting Deekin's snout with a tiny forefoot. "Put me down, you cad!" More than a little surprised, Deekin obeyed, letting the rat fall from his mouth to the floor. The dire rat landed on its back and wriggled furiously, finally righting itself. Having regained its footing, it spun around and gave Deekin a beady-eyed glare.
"That was my mistake," it grumbled. "Next time I'm about to eaten by a scaly giant, I'll be sure to say 'Set me down, you cad!'"
"Deekin sorry about that," Deekin apologized awkwardly.
"Of course you, of course you are," the rodent muttered irritably, smoothing back its gray coat.
"How you speaks Common?" Deekin wondered.
"I don't!" the rat snapped. "You just think I do. Some spell old what's-his-pickle put on me, back in the day."
"What's-his-pickle?" Deekin repeated, catching himself before another quake could cause him to tumble.
"Yes, old what's-his-name..." The rat noticed Deekin's blank look. "What, it's been a while, alright! I mean, they have all manner of rules and whatnots in place for what should happen to a wizard when his familiar dies but the reverse? Nothing! Zero! Zilch!"
"Huh?" Deekin uttered cluelessly. The rat sighed.
"Nevermind. I'm Dagget Filth, with an IQ triple your own, I wager, and more gray hairs than you can shake a wig at! And judging by your ignoble habit of referring to yourself in the third person, I take it your name is Deekin."
"Yep, Deekin be Deekin alright," he affirmed, searching his pack and bringing out a book, which he held in front of Dagget. "You be Dagget Filth, so you writes book right here, right?"
"There isn't very well another Dagget Filth, now, is there?" Dagget scoffed. "Of course I wrote it! A long, long time ago. It gets boring here, you know."
"Deekin can guess," he nodded, getting out his writing supplies. "What was you sayings about falling three hundred feet at first?"
"Hehe. I bet you thought I was crazy for a minute there, didn't you?" Dagget chuckled bitterly. "Three hundred feet! Ha! That's the kind of tom fool protocol that got us into this mess in the first place. A thousand feet, I told them! But did they listen?"
"A thousand feet?" said Deekin.
"Absolutely!" Dagget shouted, tail switching emphatically. "A thousand-foot minimum! Two thousand if you can! It's a safety precaution in case something goes horribly, dreadfully wrong, you see."
"Uhh...what could goes wrong?"
"Well, you could fall out of the sky, for starters," Dagget said matter-of-factly. "Then the High Arcanist to whom you're bonded body and soul could die a horrible crushing death beneath a pile of rubble while shopping for your morning vegetables..."
"That not sound good," Deekin interjected, realizing that Dagget was referring to how high up the cities had flown. If a city were too low to the ground, it would crash too quickly for anyone to react to the disaster.
"It really isn't, let me assure you, my big scaly friend," Dagget sighed. "After that, you linger, haunted by guilt for untold years, an insipid fire elemental for warmth and company, while Shadovar from a rival (and much smarter) city slowly occupy the school said High Arcanist headmastered..."
"High Arcanist?" Deekin questioned. Ignoring him, Dagget went on, "Then, just when you think you've settled into a morosely pleasant existence, someone comes along and starts firing up the old mythallar again, no doubt hoping to buzz around the landscape at three hundred feet all over again..."
"Rat person talks about scary snake lady, maybe?" Deekin wondered.
"You're sharp for a lizard, aren't you?" Dagget said, skittering to keep his bearing as Undrentide shook again. "Unfortunately, all this shaking has repercussions. Big repercussions! Are you listening to me?"
"Ummm... yup, Deekin writes it all down..." Deekin affirmed, having started recording the rat's ramblings on paper.
"Frightened by the sudden activity, said Shadovar begin to steal everything (bricks, mortar, and the Dark Wind notwithstanding) back to their namby-pamby "Plane of Shadows." And then..."
"And then...?" Deekin encouraged.
"And then, just when you think things couldn't get any worse (what with the Shadovar and all), I find myself rudely awoken and asked ridiculously banal questions by the likes of you!!!" Dagget fumed. Ignoring this fit, Deekin asked, "What be Shadovar, anyway?"
"Yes, back when my master, High Arcanist whosamacallit, was still alive, one of his students broke off and formed a rival city. The student could have taught my master a few things about safety regulations, might I add..." Deekin's eyes widened as he remembered Umbra telling him her master's master was an apprentice of the High Arcanist.
"When all the floating cities of Netheril tumbled out of the sky, this student's city was flying at a safe altitude of a thousand-plus feet, you see," Dagget went on. "He had time to jump the entire city into the Plane of Shadow."
"Plane of Shadow? How he do that?"
"Oh, goodness knows. He always was a bright lad. At any rate, the shift was permanent and they've stayed there ever since, with the exception of the occasional trip into Undrentide. Call themselves Shadovar, now."
"If they be trapped in Shadow Plane, how they gets here?" Deekin asked quizzically.
"Look, just because I have a ridiculously high IQ doesn't mean I have all the answers, okay?" Dagget told him. "We were rival cities, full of spies and industrial espionage and the like. There's always a back door somewhere. Regardless, after the crash they pretty much took up residence here in the tower. Now that someone's reactivated the mythal, though, they're getting jumpy. Nobody wants a fall, right? So they're stealing stuff..."
"What they steals?"
"Oh, any of my master's magic, I'm sure, and the Dark Wind especially. But, to be honest, they're tearing the entire place apart, bricks, mortar, everything. I guess they mean to rebuild it back at home. Fortunately, there's Old Fireshorts here." Dagget gestured to the caged fire elemental with a tiny paw. "His brain boiled off long ago, but he casts a fair bit of light to keep the Shadovar at bay..."
As if on cue, Umbra stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight.
"Oh, would you look at that," Dagget grumbled. "A Shadovar."
"You be Shadovar, Boss?" Deekin cried. Umbra ignored his question, addressing Dagget Filth instead.
"You say m'lord's servants are stealing the place away, bit by bit?" she asked.
"Isn't that what I just said?" Dagget retorted. "You should know, anyway."
"You are certain the Shadovar took the Dark Wind?" she persisted.
"Well, did you?" Dagget snapped.
"Nevermind," Umbra said, turning and walking away.
"Nope, I never do, never do," Dagget yawned, flopping down and closing its eyes. "That ought to teach you to let a sleeping rat lie."
Deekin paused and wondered if he should write something of this, then decided he could write later and ran to catch up to Umbra, who stood near a door at the room's back.
"Boss, Deekin be very confused right now," he announced truthfully.
"Lower your voice," she instructed him. "You know not what lies beyond this door."
"Okay," Deekin said quietly. "But what be goings on?"
"The short story," Umbra explained, "is as the rat told you. One of the High Arcanist's apprentices discovered a potent magic called the Shadow Weave, found on the Shadow Plane. He broke off from Undrentide and formed a rival city; when the Netherese cities fell, the apprentice moved his city to the Shadows. M'lord was one of the apprentice's closest friends, and earned a sizeable plot of land in this new realm. But this is not enough for him; he is greedy and cruel. That is why he wished to raise Undrentide once more, so he could attempt to match the power of his lord. He sent this one, his most trusted servant, out in an enchanted robe, to take from Drogan the mythal of Undrentide--though, as you well know, this one grew lax in her efforts and did not return, mythal or no. But m'lord was a fool to tell a plane-skipping medusa of his aspirations, and Heurodis sought this one out and wrought havoc, eventually recovering the mythallar and taking over his plans. Is that sufficient information for you, Deekin?"
Deekin, who was hurriedly writing all this down, finally nodded. "Yep, Deekin thinks that be enough. Story not so confusing now. Except...how Shadovar escapes Shadow Plane?"
"Through planar portals," Umbra said simply. "They are simple enough to create, if you have an extensive knowledge of the arcane as m'lord does."
"One more question," Deekin posed, writing this down.
"Yes?" Umbra pressed, beleaguered.
"How you spells 'planar'?"
"P-L-A-N-A-R."
"Thanks, Boss," he grinned, making the necessary revisions and tucking the notebook and quill away.
"Yes," Umbra acknowledged. "Now, this one needs you to be silent and watch." So saying, she creaked the door open and motioned for Deekin to look through. He did so.
On the other side of the door was yet another room. From wall to wall and floor to ceiling, the place was completely bare, and even the walls were missing bricks. Grabbing the bricks and stowing them away in black parcels were at least two dozen strange people. Some were men, some were women; some had skin black as coal, some had skin white as chalk, and the rest were every shade of gray in between. They wore tattered gray clothing, and their watery black eyes darted about nervously as they whispered worriedly to each other, their fingers scrabbling at the crumbling mortar and prying the loosened bricks free.
"They are the Shadovar, these in particular being minions under m'lord's command," Umbra told Deekin in a hushed tone. "Deekin, this one would introduce you to the Shadows of Undrentide."
"Shadows of Undrentide..." Deekin murmured. Umbra pushed the door all the way open and walked in. "Boss, waits!" Deekin cried, running after her. The Shadovar noticed first Deekin, regarding him with jeering looks, then looked at Umbra with terrified awe.
"Aaaaiiiieee!" they yelped, scrambling into trembling, defensive positions. "It is the High Arcanist returned to flesh!" There was something decidedly koboldish about them, Deekin noted.
"You are cowards and fools," Umbra remarked derisively. "Does this one look to be the High Arcanist returned to flesh?"
The Shadovar were shamefully silent.
"No," they gradually admitted, relaxing. "We've been working in a dead man's house too long."
There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by the clinking of brick removal.
"It is only the lord's pet," one said finally, and there was weak laughter among them. "I did not recognize it in that robe...should've recognized the robe itself, though." Deekin glowered at the suggestion that Umbra was anyone's pet, but guessed that now was the time for him to be silent.
"Pet or no, this one is your superior," Umbra stated, and in one quick motion seized a Shadovar man by the collar of his worn gray shirt.
"Where is the Dark Wind?" Umbra demanded in a cold, emotionless tone.
"Ou-our lord has it," he stammered. Umbra dropped him to the hard ground carelessly. The man regained his bearings and ran to a wall where his fellows worked.
"He would," she muttered. Then, more loudly, she commanded, "None of you are to even think of harming the kobold. Understood?" Deekin realized she meant him. The Shadovar nodded in due course.
"Now, then." Umbra stooped down to Deekin's height and faced him. "Deekin, do you still hold the shard this one gave you?"
"Yes, Deekin has it," he affirmed, pulling out of his pocket the black shard Umbra had given him that night in the desert. Umbra took it from him, then fished around in her woolen gray backpack, withdrawing a small, rectangular black object. Like the shard, its surface rippled as though alive. On further inspection, Deekin saw that it appeared to be a small door. Strange words were written on it in silver symbols, and beneath the cryptic wording was a small, asymmetrical impression. Umbra slid the shard into it; a perfect fit.
The door sprang to life, jerking out of Umbra hands and twirling through the air, finally settling on the floor. There, it expanded repeatedly, until it was the size of a regular door. Umbra slid her fingers between the door and the slim doorframe, prying it open. Deekin looked on in astoundment; though there was nothing behind the door when he checked, the door opened into an area of thick blackness.
"This is a planar door into the Shadow Plane," Umbra explained to him. "It leads directly into m'lord's private quarters."
A shiver went up Deekin's spine.
"And we be going in?" he questioned timidly.
"We must," Umbra avered reluctantly. "M'lord has the third Wind."
"But--but maybe he not be ready for company," Deekin suggested frantically. "Maybe he be in bath...or going to the bathroom...or sleeping...or changing clothes!"
"This one doubts you would find a shadow lich doing any of those things," Umbra commented wryly. A second shiver went up Deekin's spine at this morbid comment. Deekin knew what a lich was--a mage who had used magic to change into an immortal, skeletal undead and cheat death. But what was a shadow lich? He didn't think he wanted to find out, but Umbra had already walked through the physics-defying door and vanished into the darkness. Deekin didn't like the looks the Shadovar were giving him; cursing his options, he plunged into the darkness after her.
Deekin blinked furiously, but the darkness was unnatural, heavy and stifling, and all his eyes could make out was blackness. The door had shut behind him, locking him in. It would be impossible to write here, but he whispered to himself as though he were writing, "And the intrepid heroes stepped into a realm of darkness and shadow! The kobold companion quickly wet himself in fear..." A cold hand clamped down on his shoulder; Deekin shrieked and spun around to see Umbra standing there, just barely visible in the pitch dark.
"Deekin, there is no need to fear," she assured him. "The shadows cannot harm you so long as this one is here." Deekin smiled, albeit fearfully. Umbra paused thoughtfully, then removed one of her longswords from its sheath and held it out like a torch. Bright light emanated from the sword's glowing blade, and though most of the surrounding area was still black, the sword cast a small circle of light around them.
"Thanks, Boss." Deekin's tail waved gratefully. "Deekin appreciates that."
"Now, come." She grasped his hand gently and led him through the shadows. "M'lord awaits."
As they wandered, Deekin began to see the outlines of things--normal things, so normal they were odd in this strange place. There were chairs, tables, crates, chests, cupboards, plates, dishes, childhood toys, fountains, maybe even an occasional small animal, and more, shaded in darkness.
"Boss," he asked, "why those be here?" He pointed at the out-of-place items.
"Those are shadows. The Shadow Plane is something of a shadow itself," Umbra replied. "You come from the world of Toril. The shadows your world casts off--they end up here, in this one's world. Toril's old shadows are what the Shadow Plane is made of." Deekin was ponderously silent at this new bit of knowledge. He thought of the many shadows he'd seen in his lifetime. He imagined a mushroom back in the Nether Mountains; when the mushroom was eaten, would its shadow end up here? It was a fascinating notion, and thinking about it eased his fears.
"Deekin!" Umbra cried sharply, yanking Deekin aside. Something cold grazed his arm; feeling it, he found his shirt sleeve now had three long tears. He scrutinized the area where the thing had passed and barely saw a dark mist, which pooled into a more recognizable shape. It appeared to be the silhouette of a man, with malicious exaggerations--sharp shoulders, arms that reached its ankles, twisted hands with four large, sharp fingers that looked more like oversized claws. Its face bore no features, but for two dark red blotches that resembled eyes. Deekin stumbled back in surprise.
"M'lord," Umbra greeted weakly. So this was the shadow lich, Deekin realized; all that remained of a man who had long ago integrated himself with the shadows to become one. The shadow lich shied away from the light of Umbra's sword, his red eyes narrowing at it resentfully. Suddenly, the light extinguished, and darkness settled over them once more. Somehow, Deekin knew it was the lich's doing.
"Bring light into my estate, will you?" the lich said hatefully. His voice faintly echoed of a man's, but most of the humanity had gone out of it, leaving a dry hiss.
"This one is sorry, m'lord," Umbra apologized.
"Sorry for what?" the shadow lich demanded, eyes blazing. "I gave you one of my rarest arcane items. With complete, misplaced confidence in you, I sent out into Toril to bring one single thing back to me. You never did that. You stayed on the light plane for almost a decade, and now you have the nerve to come back! You have wronged me many times over...what are you sorry for?"
"M'lord," Umbra started hopelessly. "This one could not find--"
"I told you to come back within the month if you could not find the mythal!" the lich fumed. "I gave you the door! And to top it all off, you brought with you a...a kobold." The shadow looked at Deekin in amazement, fully realizing what he was, and turned to Umbra. "Why did you bring a kobold?"
"He is this one's friend, m'lord," Umbra told him submissively.
"Your friend?" The undead wizard seemed almost amused at the idea. "Well, to be honest, I'm surprised anything would want to be friends with you." He remembered his anger. "You should have been HERE!"
"M'lord..." Umbra trailed off, knowing it was useless to argue.
"For your treachery, I should cast Light upon you!" the lich went on. "Without the robe to protect you, no less!"
"Please, m'lord!" Umbra cried. "Do not do that! This one will do anything!" Her begging reminded Deekin of the many times he had pleaded Tymofarrar for mercy.
"Drop your weapons and bow down to me," the lich ordered. Umbra did so, discarding the swords reluctantly. "Now give me the robe of Vecna, or I'll take it from you."
"Please, m'lord," Umbra begged, still bowed down. "This one needs the robe...please, do not take it."
"Still you disobey me?" The lich's fingers lengthened on one hand, and glowed vibrantly. Keeping the lighted hand well away from himself, the shadow lich slashed at Umbra with it. The fingers drug into her back, leaving four prominent tears in the fabric. Beyond the tears, there was no flesh that Deekin could see, only dazzling brightness, which gradually began to fade into blackness. Umbra didn't make a sound, but writhed in obvious pain. It pained Deekin to see her in pain.
"Give me the robe!" the lich demanded, and brought his hand down again.
"M'lord..." Umbra pleaded in agony as the fingers raked across her back, leaving four more large, luminous slashes. Deekin's heart panged.
"You will be a wisp by the time I get that robe," the shadow lich threatened, raising his arm. Umbra said nothing, only continued to writhe pathetically. Deekin couldn't stand it anymore.
"STOPS IT!" Deekin yelled, jumping in front of Umbra and spreading his arms out protectively. The lich terrified him, but he stood his ground. To his relief, the light faded away from the lich's fingers. The lich didn't bother to stoop down; he allowed his lower half to lose form and twisted like a snake, lowering himself that way, and pressed his face close to Deekin's.
"You dare to defy me, lizard?" he hissed. Deekin would have commented on how cliched that line was, but the lich's red-eyed glare froze him with terror. He summoned his courage and managed to say instead, "You not hurts Boss. Boss only wanted to be free. Just gives Boss the Dark Wind, and we leaves." His words were brave, but his knees were ready to give out. He hoped Umbra was alright.
"And why would I give you the Dark Wind?" the lich wondered.
"So we can stops mean snake-lady from taking over world," Deekin responded. "Undrentide, too."
"Heurodis will have to face me," the shadow lich corrected. "Not my cowardly servant and its talking lizard."
"Boss not be cowardly servant!" Deekin snapped. "Boss be bravest, greatest hero ever! Years from now, people tells stories and sings songs about Boss's greatness, and you just sits here in dark and listens, like dumb shadow-thing you be!!!"
"I want to laugh at that idea," the shadow lich remarked, stretching his claws. "But I have no lungs, so I think I'll just kill you for your impertinence, instead."
Deekin gritted his teeth and waited for the blow; but then he saw it. The still-lit sword, rising up behind the unsuspecting shadow lich. And there, holding onto the hilt, was Umbra. She brought the sword down quickly, slashing the lich straight through the middle. He seemed harmed not so much by the blade as by the light it cast, disintegrating where it shone brightest. The lich withdrew and gathered into a mist, then reformed himself.
"What are you doin--" he started, when Umbra struck his again. And again, and again, and again. The lich had tortured many, but none had fought back in years, perhaps centuries, and he didn't know how to defend himself. Umbra was much more skilled than he had anticipated, and saw him wherever he tried to hide. Finally, the shadow backed up against a tall black chair that must have been his throne and begged, "Please, servant...you can keep the robe. Just spare me."
"No." Umbra delivered the final blow. There was a burst of light, and then the lich dissolved into a black mist, which faded away. With his dying words, he cursed her, "Damn you, traitorous sha..." He faded away before his last words could be completed.
Umbra stood, silent and unmoving. Concerned, Deekin wandered over.
"You be okay, Boss?" he asked worriedly.
"'Okay'?" Umbra repeated. "This one is free, Deekin! M'lord is gone! He is really, truly gone! After all these years, this one is finally free!!" She grabbed Deekin and hugged him. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you! This one would never have overthrown him without you!"
"You is welcome, Boss," Deekin said in a strangled voice. "But you be chokings Deekin."
"This one is sorry, Deekin," she apologized, setting him down gently. "This one is so happy...you wait here. This one will get the Dark Wind and be right back." So saying, she wandered off into the darkness and began searching for it. Deekin didn't even mind that he was all alone in this darkness; he had too much else on his mind. Something was very familiar about this...
Of course. Back in the Silver Marches, in the pie shop in Blumberg. He had been so thrilled to be free at last, and so grateful to Umbra.
The aforementioned came forth then, a small black orb in her hands. She gave it to Deekin.
"Here, m'lord," she told him. "Here is the Dark Wind." Deekin was evidently shocked.
"You means Deekin, Boss," he reminded her. "Not 'm'lord'."
"Yes, of course. This one is sorry, Deekin," she corrected herself.
"That okay, Boss," he smiled, then looked at the small globe in his hands, black rather than white like the other winds. "Wow, Dark Wind really be dark."
"Indeed it is," Umbra agreed. "This Wind is enchanted with shadow magic."
"Oooh." Deekin began to reach for his writing supplies, then remembered that he couldn't write in this darkness. "Uhh...we leaves now, maybe? This place be veeery spooooky...and Deekin got lots of writing to catch up on, besides."
"Of course," Umbra consented. Slipping the scabbards back over her shoulders, she slid her swords back in their sheaths and led Deekin back to the planar door. And so, filled with happiness and confidence, our heroes left the Shadow Plane.
(And so ends Chapter Sixteen. The Winds have been recovered, Umbra has been freed, and the future is looking bright. But is it? Find out in suspenseful music Chapter Seventeen!)