These Roads We Walk - Chapter Six - Some Kind of Wonderful
Author's Note: One creative note; I think this is probably my favourite chapter to date because I had the easiest time writing it, and I get to badmouth paladins. One of my favourite things about writing Neverwinter Nightsian stories is coming up with odd little phrases for the characters to say that fit the world -- such as the "sooner lick the hind end of a dwarf" line from the interlude. Also, this chapter was written entirely to one of my favourite songs on repeat -- "Chain of Fools" by Aretha Franklin, which somehow fits. I'm going to stop doing author's notes now for the rest of this story, because I think it detracts from the overall experience. Just a heads-up, that if anything odd happens, rest assured it has a reason that will be explained at another point in the story. A place for everything and everything in it's place; the interlude WILL be explained and have a connection to the main story, but . . . It's all about pacing and love, beh-beh.
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JEZRA
"Deekin been wondering . . . did he tells you about the time he and Boss fights big scary manticore under desert? Ummmm, half-orc be there too, but Deekin just remembers him complaining lots . . . "
"Yeah, ye did."
"Oh."
Silence.
Then:
"Did Deekin maybe tells you about the time he and Boss gets turned to stone by scary snake-hair lady? Deekin not like that so much . . . he think it be very interesting experience, but . . . had to go to the bathroom after a while."
"Aye, I remember."
"Oh."
Again, silence.
Then:
"Did Deekin -- "
Spinning around, her pack nearly falling from her back, Jezra snapped, "Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes! We've been o'er yer little adventure more times than a dwarf o'er a dragon's treasure!"
Silence.
The rest of the group had stopped moving as well, and had turned to regard her; Errigal with mild amusement, Jacobson alarmed and clutching at his chest from her outburst, and Phineas smirking in the eerie glow of blue-white light that seemed to hover contained within his gnarled hand. Deekin blinked his small eyes at her in surprise, before dipping his head dejectedly, heaving a heavy sigh that travelled the length of his small frame and likely managed to depress the small patch of clover he stood upon. "Oh." was all he said, managing to infuse that single word with enough hurt and remorse that Jezra thought he might as well even the most pious paladin would have looked down his nose at her for inspiring it.
The truth was, it wasn't even the kobold's incessant chatter that was getting on her nerves. After all, hadn't she listened to even longer tall tales told just as exuberantly (and certainly more dirty) from one Tomi Undergallows for months on end not too long ago? But the day itself was beginning to wear on her.
Leaving behind Aribeth, the uncommonly hard-eyed fallen paladin she had become in that cell deep beneath castle Neverwinter, had been perhaps the hardest thing Jezra had ever done, harder even than watching the thatched, haphazard roofs of her home village recede as she'd ridden away on the back of a crop wagon years ago. There was no love lost between the two women, although Jezra regretted now every arrogant time she had rolled her eyes, turned her back, or snapped off a reply to the elf. They were worlds apart, easily -- one graceful, well bred and kind, the other displaced outside her own home and with all the temperment of a paladin who had just squatted to relieve himself in a bush of nettles in the wild.
Jezra wondered if they'd gone ahead and done it already, and wether they had done it over the same spot Aribeth's own lover had died not so long ago in the same forsaken twisted plot.
She shuddered involuntarily and turned it into a sigh. She didn't want to be tramping about the woods after someone she didn't know, with people she'd only just met, and an overeager kobold at her heels. She wanted, in fact, to be as far removed from other people as she could get, from their unconscious cruelties, thoughtlessness, blindness, all of it. She wanted to be alone with nothing but the sounds of the woods for company, and menial tasks as she set up her home to prevent her from thinking.
Instead, she said, rather gloomily, "Why don't ye tell me about cookin' for the halflin's caravan again?"
Immediately, Deekin perked up, beaming an alarming toothy smile up at her. "Okay! Okay, Deekin likes talkings about that!"
"I know." Jacobson muttered ahead.
"Then you'll get plenty of time to do so." Phineas said, dropping his pack with a loud crunch of underbrush and straightening with a grimace. "This looks like a well enough place to spend the night."
Deekin looked taken aback. "But . . . but Deekin thought we were going to finds the Boss?"
The old scholar snorted. He rummaged inside his coat, now somewhat grimier than before, and emerged with another small bottle. Jezra was amazed the man didn't clink when he walked . . . and that he could walk at all. "We'll find your elf, and her little friends. But we can't do a thing in this dark. We'd stumble blind into a trolls arse, or bring another happy little group of gnolls down on us with the amount of light we'd need to search well. No, better to make camp now and resume again in the light. If she's not in the belly of an ogre now or roasting over an orcish campfire, she'll survive the few hours until dawn."
The kobold didn't look the least bit reassured by this, but he didn't try to stop them as they began to break camp. Of them all, Errigal seemed best prepared. From a suspiciously small and brightly patterned bag, she pulled chunks of bread, wax-wrapped pieces of cheese, and a large, ornate flask worked with silver that Jezra saw Phineas eyeing covetously, along with several small cups. Jezra herself had flint and kindling in her pack, and after a stern look from his teacher, Jacobson reluctantly parted with several pairs of woolen, half-finger gloves to ward off the chill and a small packet of dried meat. Although it was hardly a feast, Jezra found her stomach growling appreciatively as the fire was finally built once they had cleared the area of flammable material, and Errigal had passed out the food. She kept the flask stoppered, however.
They were largely silent as they ate, and Jezra was as grateful for that as she was for the meager warmth from the flames. Saying goodbye to Gunderson -- who frustratingly hadn't seemed at all surprised by her decision -- and watching the back of his carriage vanish down the road, leaving her with these people, had been hard.
Not as hard, however, as it had been putting up with Jacobson.
Jezra was willing to accept that the boy was young and unused to travel. Still, it had been difficult to resist the temptation to give him a clip around the head with her fist each time he opened his mouth to complain, which was more and more frequent as the hours drew on and night approached. Phineas, for his part, hadn't bothered to resist the temptation at all, and the boy's frequent whining was usually interrupted early on by the flat of his mentor's hand against the side of his head. While some people might have frowned at this, Jezra at least understood; better that the boy be prepared for the hardship of the world by learning that you didn't always get your way and complaining never solved anything from an ill-tempered master instead of a pack of orcs.
When they had demolished the bread, cheese, and meat between them all -- Jezra reluctantly parting with half of her own with a sigh at Deekin's pitiable looks -- Errigal finally uncorked her flask and set about pouring a tiny amount of golden liquid in each of the five cups. As she poured, she spoke to Deekin. "So. Tell us about this Boss of yours. What makes her so special that you aren't off writing that book of yours in the cushiest Inn you can find?"
Blinking sleepily, Deekin regarded the gnome across the flames. "Deekin owes Boss for helping him gets free of Old Master . . . and for stopping big half-orc from hitting him lots, too."
Phineas snickered, although his eyes were locked on the cups in Errigal's hands.
"I'm sure." the gnome said dryly, the firelight especially unkind to the horrors of her face as she passed out the cups. "But there must be more to it than that. What's she like?"
Jezra couldn't have cared less. With food in her belly and warmth nearby, she was feeling pleasantly drowsy. She took one of the cups from Errigal and peered inside, sniffing curiously. A faint, strange aroma of spice, woodsmoke, and honey greeted her.
Deekin peered into his own cup before responding. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Um . . . Boss is very nice, but . . . she be very quiet lots, too. Deekin thinks she be rememberings home lots. Deekin understands that. He thinks of old cave lots sometimes, too, when he feels very small and very afraid." He paused, taking a small sip from his cup, and blinking once before continuing. "Umm . . . Deekin thinks sometimes Boss worries too much about what other peoples thinks of her, and always tries to be very quiet and very polite around peoples, so she not always be very happy, unless it just be her and Deekin and little dragon. And Xanos." he added, as if reluctant to attribute even a little of his Boss' good moods to an irritable half-orc.
"Yes, fine, of course. But tell me; is she very pretty?" Jacobson asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd made camp. He looked embarassed when both Jezra and Phineas laughed. "Well . . . well elves usually are, aren't they?" he asked defensively.
"If she is," Phineas smirked, draining his cup and licking his lips, "you wouldn't need to worry about it. Even if her head isn't so big from all her 'adventures' that she needs a spell of grease to get through a doorway, one dose of you capering about and slobbering all over her boots will ruin your chances."
Jacobson mumbled in embarassment, colouring to the roots of his sandy hair and drawing his robes closer about himself. Deekin, however, seemed to be pondering the question. "Well . . . Deekin doesn't know so very much about that. She not have pretty scales or sharp teeth . . . but," he added, brightening, "Boss has very shiny hair."
Taken by surprise, Jezra burst out laughing, trailing off into giggles in the crook of her arm as she stretched out on the ground, trying to find the softest bit of earth. She felt a little drunk with the unreality of the situation even though she'd set aside her cup untouched. From the grim atmosphere of Neverwinter to supping with a kobold in one day. Whatever would Tomi say?
Looking pleased and a little emboldened by her laughter, Deekin asked, "What abouts you, Jezra? You gots lot of adventures? Seen lots of things, maybe?"
The question struck the laughter from her, and she almost snapped a reply before she bit it back, seeing the innocent curiosity in the kobold's question. She couldn't say why it was so important to her that none of these people knew where she had just come from, and what she had done. "Aye." she said instead, guardedly. "I seen a thing or two in me own day. But nothin' so very excitin'."
"If I didn't think you'd manage to bungle it up somehow," Phineas growled, unwittingly coming to her rescue from the awkward turn the conversation had taken, "I'd have a tale or two to tell you, kobold. About planes of fire and worlds of doors I've walked through."
Deekin seemed to consider this a moment before replying. "Deekin not knows about any of that . . . but one time, Old Master be really sick. He not do much for days but groan lots and roll around on cave almost squishings lots of little kobolds. Nobody knows what be wrong until finally one night Old Master starts making really scary sounds before he finally spits up old angry Lich right in front of Deekin. Old Master steps on Lich before it can do anything, though, and tells Deekin that it not always such a good idea to eat somethings just to carry out a threat or maybe prove a point." He paused and took in their incredulous faces before asking tentatively, "You ever sees anything like that?"
To Jezra's great surprise, Phineas' head was bowed when she looked at him, and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. When he finally looked up, he was smiling for once. "No." he said with a grunt and another barked laugh. "I can't say that I have." Even Jacobson finally relaxed and chuckled a little.
Rolling over with a sigh and putting her back to the fire, Jezra closed her eyes. Years of weariness seemed to be weighting her eyelids down, and she thought she was so worn out by the unexpected events of the day she might be finally blessed with a dreamless sleep. No dreams of the sick and dying calling for mercy on the streets of Neverwinter behind her eyes, no phantom smells of burning corpses lingering in her nostrils . . .
. . . maybe, for once, not even the haunting image of Morag's twisted and vile, hideously alien features looming inches from her own, spitting curses and damnation in her face as clawed hands tightened about her throat . . .
She shuddered.
Behind her, there was a sudden rustling, and she heard Errigal ask, "Where are you going?"
Raising her head reluctantly, Jezra saw Deekin standing at the edge of the fire's light looking back. "Deekins gots to, um . . . he . . . er . . . Deekin needs to go." he said finally, looking distinctly embarassed.
Phineas snorted, and Jacobson grimaced. Errigal, however, only nodded, and returned to the small, leather-bound book she had taken out of somewhere. As the kobold pushed as quietly as he could through the brushes, Jezra lay her head back down and closed her eyes again. Already, sleep pulled at the edges of her mind, and she found herself not caring about the murmured conversation behind her between Jacobson and Phineas, or the soft rustling as Errigal turned pages, or even the hard ground beneath her body. She was so very, very tired.
And, after all; she had slept in worse places.
Much worse.
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DEEKIN
His business finished, Deekin stood for a moment in amidst the trees, enjoying the play of the cool night air over his scales. The glow from the campfire was barely visible, but he knew he'd be able to find his way back. What he really wanted to do was resume searching for his Boss, but he had to admit the disagreeable smelling human was right; it would be best to search in the light of day. Besides, he knew, his Boss could surely handle anything.
A sudden movement at the corner of his eye, however, made him jump. Twisting his head about in alarm, he saw a large, dark, hunched shape emerge some distance away in the moonlight. It moved . . . wrong somehow, and it's movements were accompanied by a disturbing snuffling and grunting. As Deekin watched, transfixed and perfectly still by some deeper instinct, he saw the shape spread it's arms. There was a metallic clanking, and something bright glinted in the light as it fell. And then, slowly, the figure turned and shuffled back into the darkness.
Hardly daring to breathe, Deekin stood until the sounds of it's passage had vanished completely. He knew what he should do was return to the camp and tell the others; maybe Phineas and Jacobson weren't his favourite people, but he still didn't want either of them or Jezra or Errigal to be surprised in the night. Instead, however, insatiably curious, he crept forward, keen eyes warily combing the darkness as he moved towards where he had seen the mysterious items fall.
Abruptly, he caught his breath as he came upon them.
Tentatively, he reached out with one claw to caress the familiar leather wrappings over the hilt of a broken and dirtied longsword, laying on a pile of shards and a light, deceptively delicate looking material that could only be elven chainmail, bloodied and scored.
"Boss?" he whispered in horror.