These Roads We Walk - Chapter Four - The Best of Friends

Author's Note: This chapter is long. Looooooong by my usual standards. But, I get to play with two very fun characters.

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JEZRA

"You're lying." Phineas said flatly, some time later.

"It's lying." Jacobson agreed.

They were standing in the shade of the carriage, the four of them -- Jezra, Errigal, Phineas, and Jacobson -- towering above the kobold who sat patiently on the ground. The sun had dipped low in the sky while the little beast -- Deekin -- had spoken, and several times the tale had grown so outlandish Jezra had had to literally bite her tongue to keep from ending it all out of impatience. Although she hadn't been wounded anywhere near as grievously as the kobold had been, her body had been battered enough by the gnolls' brute force that it protested the way she stubbornly insisted on remaining on her feet, if, she was forced to admit, for no other reason than Phineas hardly seemed winded.

The problem hadn't been getting Deekin to cooperate. He was quite willing to speak at length about his travels with his 'Boss' -- the trouble was getting him to remain on one track longer than five minutes.

Despite herself, Jezra understood. When she had left her village, everything had seemed an adventure, and one fantastic sight had only reminded her of another. Only now, a handful of years later, could she look back with knowing embarassment of the often pained, often humouring looks of the adventurers with whom she had occasionally shared a fire along the road, never tiring of speaking of a thousand things at once, each of which had seemed terribly exciting and noteworthy to her naieve mind.

Deekin, by his own admission, had spent the majority of his life apparently in the service of his 'Old Master' -- a large white wyrm named Tymofarrar in the mountains far to the north. That was hardly unbelievable; dragons were known to keep small, easy to bully creatures about to do their bidding.

The unbelievable part was that the same dragon was apparently now playing grudging guardian to the frozen land upon which resided the small hamlet of Hilltop at the behest of Deekin's new 'Boss' -- which, after some prying, (and several tangented stories about gnolls and troublesome half-orcs) Jezra had discovered to be a young elf by name of Twen. It was, so Deekin said, with this same elf he had traversed a good portion -- in his estimation -- of the world, "doing good deedses and writing many heroic ballads, oh yes!" In Jezra's experience, elves were worth little more than the parchment they often wrote their flowering ballads on, and she found it hard to imagine one capable of such feats despite what stories might say -- after all, her own father had certainly been lacking in any heroism. Forcing dragons into service, battling medusae, delving deep into a lair of Stingers in the desert? It all sounded like a string of boastful lies to her.

Phineas, however, seemed to have no trouble believing such things. Or at least, he'd listened in stony silence through most of it, until the end. This was where he'd run up against a wall.

"Undrentide, risen at the whim of some half-cocked sorceress? If she was defeated by the likes of you, I can only imagine the piddling amount of power she must have commanded, and to cause Undrentide to do the things you suggest . . . " the grizzled scholar trailed off with a barking laugh, the kobold flinching back in disgust at the spray of spittle. "If you're a bard, creature, I first advise you to take some lessons in believability if you hope to gain an audience -- and I sincerely doubt you'll find one that doesn't want to roast you on a spit beforehand. Nobody wants to listen to dribbling fantasty."

Deekin gazed up at him with exaggerated weariness. "Deekin not say he defeat snake-haired lady. He says him and Boss defeats her." he paused, then nodded his head as if in acknowledgement of something. " . . . and rude half-orc. But mostly, it be Deekin and the Boss."

"If I travelled with a half-orc, I would probably want to omit it from the story as well." Errigal commented, sharing a commiserating look with the kobold. Throughout the story she had listened with an expression of studied attention; now, her eyes were thoughtful and far away.

"Deekin was thinkings of that, but Boss probably not let him." Deekin agreed eagerly, before his head drooped. "If . . . if Deekin can finds his Boss. Toril be real big, and Deekin only gots real little legs . . . it might take him a while. That why Deekin was thinking he gets going now, yes?" he added hopefully, rising.

"Not just yet." Jezra said wearily, pushing the kobold back down by the shoulder.

The kobold sighed.

"Undrentide," Jacobson supplied into the tense silence, "is an immense artifact of great power, built by the Netherese themselves. If it had risen, I think we might have heard about it." he added disdainfully, with a superior look. He glanced hopefully about for support; ever since his cowardly display during the attack, he had been desperately trying to prove his worth by piping up during the kobold's lengthy story with unneeded facts. Privately, Jezra thought, the kid was out of his league with Phineas who, unsavoury though he was, had at least held his own in the attack.

Perhaps a little too well . . . Phineas hadn't exactly been careful about where he'd swung that staff of his, and Jezra rubbed the sore spot on her arm, glaring in his direction.

"Not necessarily." Errigal said, coming out of her reverie and speaking towards Jacobson. "Going by what he's said, all this has happened less than a day ago . . . even the biggest news has to travel, and horses and pigeons are only so fast . . . "

"Aye." Gunderson's voice floated down from above. Miraculously unscathed from the attack, the old man had climbed unconcernedly back up to his seat once the horses had been calmed -- or as much as they would allow themselves to be -- and he had relaxed there ever since, apparently content to listen to the unbelievable story unfolding below with little more than the occasional chuckle. "Even when these old nags were new'uns, they ain't hardly tornaders." He spat over the opposite side of the carriage, and as Jezra knew this time the old man had no seeds, she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Are you actually putting stock in this thing's story?" Jacobson asked incredulously.

"Country bumpkins." Phineas chuckled flatly. He was leaning on his staff now, and had retrieved another bottle from somewhere within the dirty folds of his long cloak, this one full of some dark, unpleasant looking liquid that Jezra wouldn't have been surprised to find dripping out of the underside of a dwarf's middenheap. He pointed the bottle at Deekin as he spoke. "This elf of yours . . . what does she do?" When the kobold looked blank, Phineas snorted and took a long swallow of the bottle before replying, his speech steady and firm. "Before she became your 'Boss'."

Deekin brightened. "Boss talks lots about that. She tells Deekin all abouts how family gets together coin to sends her to Hilltop, so she can gets training. Boss not really wants to go, but when Boss talks about Hilltop, her sounds real happy." He stopped abruptly, then dipped his head slightly. When he spoke again, his tone was both ashamed and regretful. "Boss sounds real happy, but real sad when she talks about old dwarf Drogan too."

At this, both Errigal and Phineas straightened slightly, the old man's bottle pausing en route to his lips again. "Drogan, is it? And an old dwarf to boot?"

"Yep." Deekin affirmed, still oddly despondent. "Drogan Droganson, Deekin thinks."

"Stone me for a halfling and call me a jester." Phineas said, and laughed. He licked at a drop of moisture on his upper lip and fixed the kobold with a cruel stare. "I believe you. If there's one thing that old fool is famous for, it's for trying to raise heroes, and putting stupid notions into foolish skulls."

Jezra blinked at him in surprise. "Ye actually believe this kobold and his 'Boss' are some duo of great adventurers?"

Phineas belched laughter again, sneering at her with unpleasant superiority, a snide look Jacobson probably tried to practice and emulate each morning in the polished plate. "Clean the boulders out of your ears, girl. I said I believed this elf of his was under Drogan's care. As for the rest of it, I think he's been rolled over onto one too many times by 'Old Master'."

"Deekin almost been squashed lots of times." the kobold said indignantly, glaring. "But Deekin not stupid, or lying! Deekin goes everywhere with his Boss, and remembers everything! And he even writes it all down, in case he forgets!" And he plunged a paw into his battered backpack and pulled up a sheaf of papers, waving them in the air. Phineas rolled his eyes elaborately, although Errigal regarded them with great interest.

"So, where is this Boss of yers now?" Jezra asked tiredly. "Why ain't ye off with her, instead of bringin' all sorts of gnoll calamity down on unsuspectin' heads, like?"

The kobold's imploring gaze found her own. Throughout his story, Deekin had spoke primarily to her; he seemed to think that as she had been the one to heal his wounds, she would be the most receptive to his tale. "That what Deekin is tryings to tell you. After Boss and Deekin kills snake-haired lady, Boss be pullings Deekin into weird door while floating city be fallings. Deekin ends up in forest, but . . . but Boss not be there!" The obvious distress in the kobold's reptillian features surprised Jezra; she had always been lead to believe kobolds were a cowardly lot who fled their masters when given opportunity. "So Deekin is being lookings for her, and he is thinkin maybes she is nearby, so he when he finds cave he looks inside . . . but there only be gnolls so far, not Boss."

"You must have had dealings with gnolls before." Errigal said, head cocked. "I'm sure you must have recognised the signs of a lair. Why would you go inside?"

Deekin shrugged. "The Boss be very nice elven lady . . . but she always want to bes exploring dark, scary places. She a little crazy like that."

"Heroes often are." Jezra said, thinking of crawling for hours beneath the Great Graveyard of Neverwinter with little more than the taunts of a Yuan-Ti priestess to guide her.

"Well," Gunderson said abruptly, startling them all, "int'restin' as this is, I hate t'say we gotta be gettin' on right about now. I don't reckon that li'l one meant us any harm." He leaned over the side and peered kindly down at Deekin. "I hope ye find yer elf, feller."

"Thank yous." Deekin said gratefully. "Deekin is sorry for scaring youse horses."

"Listen." Errigal said suddenly as the kobold stood. "Do you want some help finding your elf?"

The kobold twisted his head around and stared at her curiously. "You . . . you would help Deekin finds his Boss?"

"To be sure." Errigal smiled, and although to Jezra the overall effect was ghastly, the kobold gazed at her as though he had already found his dearest friend. "I think something unusual here is afoot."

"You're mad." Jacobson blurted. "Assuming this elf even exists, if she was really tossed so far by the spell as the kobold was, she could be anywhere."

Surprisingly, Phineas clipped the younger man around the head, glowering. "Don't be daft. Assuming it wasn't a wild magic spell to begin with, I expect it just got it's coordinates slightly skewed and dumped her in a ditch somewhere instead." He paused, then added thoughtfully with some satisfaction, "If it didn't kill her."

If it was possible for scales to blanch, Deekin's did an admirable job of it. After a moment, however, he asked hesitantly, "If, um, if boss were nearby, does that mean the others be too?"

"The half-orc you wanted to deny a share of the glory, you mean?" Errigal asked, and Jezra thought, If there's really any glory to be had. Privately, she thought the gnome was being more or less of an idiot, but she kept her mouth shut and merely listened.

"Uh huh." Deekin looked less than thrilled at the prospect. "Big mouth named Xanos."

Although he had turned and begun to climb awkwardly back into the carriage with a grunt, Phineas paused and looked over his shoulder. Although his gaze was still blurry, Jezra thought she detected a keener interest in it beyond the cruel mockery before. "Xanos?"

"Messarmos." Deekin added helpfully, looking politely confused at the newfound attention.

For a long moment, Phineas was perfectly still, one leg still braced in the carriage doorway. Then, abruptly, he dropped back down, grabbed Jacobson by the back of the neck, and all but hurled him towards the luggage lashed to the back. "Get our things, boy." he growled. "We're going to help the runt find his master."

While Errigal didn't look surprised, it was all Jezra could do not to gape. Granted, she had known the man for less than a day, but she still found it hard to imagine him abandoning his own ideas to chase an elf across half of creation with a hyperactive kobold. "Just a minute." she snapped. "Yer friend there said ye were goin' to Amn."

"Yes!" Jacobson cried, looking frantic. "We are! Professor, everyone is waiting for us -- "

"Plans change." Phineas snapped, levelling the staff threateningly. The bottle was an indistinct bulge in the breast of his coat. "And they're waiting for me, not you, and they can damn well wait a little longer. Get to it!"

"Professor, please, m-maybe I should go on ahead and -- "

"You'll go and do what I told you to do, or I'll ship you back to that rat-infested little hovel you come from and you'll never find work again." Phineas said coldly. Jacobson gave the older man one last, pleading look before he fled to do as he was asked, as though he had gnolls nipping at his heels.

"Well." Gunderson said into the silence, shifting with a creak. "I s'pose it's just ye and me headin' on, girl."

And Jezra realised everyone was staring at her.

What she wanted to say was, "Bugger off. I'm not playing anybody's hero."

What she needed to say was, "Leave me alone. Can't you see I can't be a hero?"

What she said was, "I guess I'd best go and get me things then too, aye?"

Phineas smirked knowingly, and Jezra found herself liking the man even less. Deekin, however, capered with delight before her. "This bes more than Deekin could hope for! You and gnome lady really help Deekin finds his Boss? . . . and smelly old man and mean young one." he added almost reluctantly. It was clear he was less than enthusiastic about having Phineas along for company.

"Aye, we'll get yer Boss and say g'bye." Jezra muttered, heading around to the luggage with the creature on her heels. They passed Jacobson, puffing and red-faced as he hauled along two heavy packs, and she somehow doubted she'd see Phineas carrying one before the day was out.

She couldn't explain why she was helping. She didn't want to; that much was certain. But she knew she was expected to, knew Errigal had somehow known she would come along, and for some reason she couldn't place, she didn't want the other woman thinking ill of her.

The whole situation did not improve her mood.

"Here." Jezra said, remembering something as the kobold helped her untie her own pack from the back. "Ye said ye wanted help findin' yer Boss and her friends. Who else we goin' after aside from that Xanos bugger?"

Deekin's eyes rolled towards her. "Oh," he said flippantly, "just the Boss' dragon."

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XANOS

It was said that there were few things noisier than a half-orc barbarian in the woods.

Adding a pseudodragon to the mix seemed to dispell that theory.

"You ain't go no idea where yer goin'!" the little creature bawled, surprisingly loudly given it's small statue. It was very fond of it's own voice, and frequently made use of it at the highest decibles it could manage. "Yer lost, admit it!"

"Xanos admits no such thing!" the half-orc leading the way through the underbrush snapped back irritably. "The only thing I admit to is bewilderance for Twen's fondness for small, loud-mouthed lizards."

The pseudodragon, Skald by name, although Xanos rarely referred to him as anything other than 'the creature' or 'flying meat', crowed with laughter, brown, leathery wings carrying him a safe distance above and out of the half-orc's range. "Oh, like yer one to talk! Lookit you! You ain't got scales, but you got the biggest trap I've ever seen!"

Ignoring the jibe, Xanos pressed onward. Ever since they had arrived in the woods hours ago, he had made a point of heading due west. He believed if you followed one direction long enough, you were bound to come across a road or some other form of civilization. If there was one benefit to humans, it was that they were as numerous as flies on a ten day old pig carcass. At least in Hilltop, they had known enough to keep to themselves.

Now, however, with the daylight fading and nothing else but the chattering infernal magical creature for company -- aside from his own great intellect, of course -- Xanos would even have taken the vagabond halflings who had taken them to the desert over this. He counted himself lucky to be alive. He wondered if he could say the same for Twen and the kobold.

As if reading his thoughts, Skald mused aloud, "I wonder where the elf is. Shouldn't we be lookin' for the elf? She's got all the cash, yeah? Not sayin' I blame her, I always thought you did have sticky fingers . . . "

"We are looking for the elf." Xanos snapped, swinging one massive fist irritably overhead that the creature easily dodged. "At least, Xanos is. I cannot say the same for you."

"I'm lookin'!" Skald said, hurt. "Ain't I been lookin'? I flew into that one hollow tree a ways back, been callin' all the time . . . I wonder where Deekin's got to? I liked Deekin."

"Yes, yes. Of course you did. You who lack the brainpower of a common sewer rat! You are supremely useless as a familiar. If Twen had anything greater than a pebble rattling about in her skull, she would have traded you in for something useful like a bat or a panther long ago and heeded my advice."

"Can't hold a conversation with a bat or a panther." Skald said thoughtfully, completely missing the intended insult. "All ya can do is clean up after 'em. Me, I takes care of myself . . . I wonder where the elf is? She's got all my snacks . . . "

As the creature chattered on, Xanos sighed and tried his best to lose it in the looming darkness. It was looking up to being a long night.