These Roads We Walk - Chapter Seven - Through the Looking Glass

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JEZRA

Although the light lent by Phineas' spell gave everything a ghoulish tint, lending shadows and eerie casts to friendly faces, Jezra thought the scene would have been grim even in broad daylight. She had been groggy, yanked out of a deepening doze when the kobold had stumbled back into the camp, squealing urgently and almost incoherent, but she was wide awake now.

She thought she might never get used to death.

"You're quite certain these articles belong to your boss?" Errigal asked. The gnome was circling the items heaped on the forest floor, hands clasped behind her back, head tilted forward. "They don't look very unique to me."

"Elven chainmail . . . " Jacobson pointed out in a murmur. The young man looked pale and oddly solemn, thin hands tucked into the long sleeves of his robe.

"Plenty of elves in the world." Jezra pointed out, more to keep Deekin from looking any more ill.

"This be Boss' chainmail!" he insisted, although he looked as though he would have preferred it wasn't. He pointed with one clawed finger towards a long, ugly looking scratch in the metal. "See? That where Boss falls down hole into stinger lair. Rude half-orc laughs lots . . . until he falls on head going down after."

Ignoring the potential segue into another story, Jezra bent down for a closer look -- the kobold didn't look interested in telling stories at the moment anyway. There was blood on the chainmail, oh yes -- and across the broken blade of the sword that lay nearby as well, but across the flat of the blade instead of the edge, as though it had been dripped or splattered. Reluctantly, she reached out and touched a long smear, grimacing at the slightly tacky feel that remained. It was nearly dry, but still fresh enough to leave a faint reddish tinge on her fingers. She wiped them hard on her legs, glaring up at Phineas, daring him to say something about her discomfort.

Phineas, however, didn't seem to be paying attention. He was staring from beneath lowered, bushy brows at Jacobson, who was shifting uncomfortably under his mentor's gaze. "Well?" the scholar demanded, brandishing the handful of oddly limpid light in the young man's direction.

"Er, yes?" Jacobson said, doing his best to look helpful.

Judging by the heavy snort Phineas gave, Jezra thought Jacobson was probably lucky the older man had his other hand full carrying his gnarled staff. "We have here," he said in an exaggeratedly informatory tone, as though speaking to a rather simple child, "items belonging to one person who is mysteriously absent. Do you think you could do what you're useful for, or are we going to stand here gaping at them until the wind changes and we find ourselves stuck this way?"

Jacobson gave a small jump, and even with the glow from the light playing across his features, Jezra could see him blush. "Oh! Oh, of course, Professor, I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'll, um, I'll get right to it, then, shall I?" At Phineas' withering look, the man mumbled another apology as he dropped to his knees.

Reaching out, Jacobson ran his hands gingerly over the items, and winced slightly as though he had cut himself, although his hands had not yet touched the blade. Frowning, Jezra cocked her head as the man closed his eyes and began breathing deeply and slowly. His face contorted for a moment into an expression of supreme concentration, before suddenly slackening. He looked calm, almost serene, so deeply so that for a moment Jezra thought he had fallen asleep. Standing here, amidst the twisted shadows of trees with bloodied remnants on the ground -- maybe this elven hero existed after all -- Jezra couldn't see how that was possible. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.

"Um," Deekin ventured after a moment, voice pitched so low it was almost a hiss, "what he be doings?"

"Scrying." came Errigal's absent reply. She had reached out to finger the edge of the chainmail. "Good to see the boy is keeping himself useful."

Phineas grunted. He was watching Jacobson with a critical eye, a predatory gleam in his gaze. "He does his job when he remembers to. He'll never be half the seer his mother was."

Jezra looked back at Jacobson to see what his reaction to this statement would be, but he seemed largely unaware. His eyes rolled underneath their closed lids, and Jezra thought she might have heard him murmur something. His lips were moving almost imperceptibly. The hair prickled on the back of her neck as she knelt down beside him -- Jezra had never been comfortable with magic in the best of times. "What, Jarred?" she asked quietly, head bent towards him. "What'd ye say?"

This close, she could hear him muttering faintly, " . . . verified the matter. What confuses me is your sudden appearance here. It is timely, yes, and certainly fortuitous, perhaps in more ways than I had initially believed. I do enjoy a good mind game, and the ancient Netherese are undeniably fascinating . . . perhaps . . . Alan, bring me that vial . . . carefully, carefully . . . " In Jacobson's temple, his pulse fluttered wildly and unevenly, as though with fear, and Jezra moved back uneasily.

Phineas smiled unpleasantly down at her. "What's the matter, girl? No stomach for something you can't stick a blade in?"

Ignoring him, Jezra pushed to her feet. The truth was, she had seen more than her share of Seers at work in her time. Her own village had had one . . . supposedly, anyway. A large blind woman named Marta, who had navigated her way about even familiar territory with ease. She had claimed that the second sight she possessed allowed her to move about so easily; privately, even at a young age when she had been most impressionable, Jezra had thought the woman's success had been largely due to the talkative crow that was always been perched on her shoulder. Regardless, Marta had been consulted on everything from crops to goblin raids, and she had always put on the same mystical, breathy act for each prediction.

In contrast, travelling through Luskan at one point, Jezra and her then-companion Tomi Undergallows had encountered a little girl, barely older than five, who had looked up from her childish play to inform Jezra with cheerful, yet chilling certainty that Aribeth was "changing faces", without even knowing whom Jezra was looking for, or what was even then happening at the top of the Host Tower. Jezra had also seen spells cast by mages in Neverwinter's last, desperate siege against Morag's forces, trying to discern the enemy's movements. And, maybe, on some level, Phineas was right; magic had always alarmed her a little, a gift so seemingly temporarily given by the Gods. She would much rather have put her faith in the heavy weight of a blade in her palm, or even her own fist. Having to rely on magic for anything was always more than a little unnerving.

She had to admit, however, she would never have imagined Phineas's constantly whining assistant to possess any sort of scrying abilities. She had always thought that someone who could see the future or even the present, truly see it, would be a humble person, beaten grim by the realisation of what lay ahead. This was a pampered, complaining young man who, although crumpling easily under the stern glare of Phineas, was still unwilling to believe life didn't have some perfect plan in store for him. She glanced at Deekin, but the kobold seemed almost enraptured by Jacobson's talents, even as dull a display as it was, and had leaned forward until his scaled snout was inches from the young man's face.

Suddenly, Jacobson shivered all over, opening his eyes. "She's alive." he said, too loudly, and jumped at his own voice. He looked down, saw his hands were covering a large, darkened stain on the chainmail, and snatched them back, nervously wiping them on his robes. He looked around, blinking rapidly. "I think."

"Boss be alive?" Deekin cried rapturously, and this time even Phineas jumped as the kobold's voice startled a flock of pheasant out from beneath the underbrush. "Where she be?"

Jacobson still seemed disoriented as he staggered to his feet, although he was recovered enough to manage a twinge of distaste around his lips as Deekin clutched at his robes. "I don't know. It was . . . it was very dark."

"Well," Phineas said nastily, "that narrows things down considerably."

Deekin had begun gathering up the bloodied items from the ground however, and was placing them with infinite care into his pack. The sword he wrapped in a piece of torn, stained cloth. "Even if ye get that reforged," Jezra said, indicating the broken blade, "it'll never be the same."

"Deekin knows." the kobold said. "But, Boss not likes to lose things . . . even things that maybe not works so good anymore."

"It'll only weigh ye down." she warned. "I ain't got any room in me own pack for it."

"Deekin be used to carrying heavy things." Deekin assured her. "Lots of times, when Boss not be lookings, Xanos tries to put his things in Deekin's pack so he not have to carry so very much. And, sometimes, Boss' little dragon tries to sleep in Deekin's pack, when he be very lazy."

"I wouldn't have stood for that."

"Deekin not minds so very much." Deekin said, giving her a bright, toothy grin. His mood seemed to have improved over the news of his Boss, scant as it was. "Everybody always says Deekin be real little and not good for much. But Deekin is good at lots of things, even little things like carrying heavy stuffs sometimes. Old Master always tells Deekin, 'Deekin, whatever you does, do it well'. So Deekin always does the best he can, even if Boss not threaten to squish Deekin like Old Master did."

To this impromptu little speech, Jezra could not find a suitable reply.

Apparently oblivious to this exchange, Errigal was looking at Jacobson. "Was it a nighttime darkness?" she asked.

"I . . . no, I don't think so." Jacobson replied, brow furrowing.

"Then," the gnome pressed, "mightn't it be underground?"

"I suppose so . . . "

"Then," Errigal said, "I think we might be well suited to investigate that, don't you?" And she pointed off through the trees.

Phineas raised his handful of light in that direction, and they all looked. There, barely discernable from the darkness and mottled ground, was the open mouth of a small cave.

"That be the direction thing that leaves Boss' stuffs be goings!" Deekin said excitedly. He had shouldered his pack already, and, true to his words, seemed to be having no trouble hopping from foot to foot under the extra weight. "Then, that maybe where Boss be?"

Phineas cocked a watery but keen eye at Jacobson. "And what about Messarmos?"

Jacobson hesitated, and Jezra could see him weighing his options before he replied. "No. I don't think I saw any half-orcs . . . but . . . there was one very large shape, and . . . as I said, it was very dark."

"Rude half-orc almost always be with Boss." Deekin said flippantly. He seemed anxious to get going, and even as he spoke, he was edging in the direction of the cave. Jezra had to admire the little creature's devotion; in some ways, good ways, he did remind her a little of Tomi. "He not likes to leave her alone very much."

"And why is that?" Errigal asked, looking interested.

Deekin looked blank momentarily before shrugging. "Well, like Deekin says, Boss be very nice . . . but she also be the only one who carries the golds."

Jezra eyed the cave with distaste. To enter, she would have to walk in a painful, back bending crouch, and Phineas and Jacobson would actually have to crawl. When she had been a child, she had spent hours climbing through the small, unoccupied natural caves that had dotted the countryside with the other village children, happy times where every bug, every odd-shaped rock was a wonder. These days, however, her reaction to enclosed spaces was less than eager.

"Let's get going then." Phineas snapped, shoving Jacobson in the small of the back with the rounded head of his staff. "I'd rather be crawling through dirt than I would standing around here doing nothing."

With a happy yelp, Deekin scurried towards the entrance of the cave, and, reluctantly, Jezra followed. The little kobold seemed so certain he was going to find his Boss.

For her part, Jezra thought the hungry mouth of the cave might snap shut behind them.

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DEEKIN

Although Deekin had not had to crouch nearly as much as his companions, emerging into a larger space after the long, cramped tunnel was still pleasing after the hours they had spent grimly traversing it, largely silent except for a few pained mutterings. Deekin would gladly have spent days in the tunnel if it meant finding his Boss; after all, hadn't she herself climbed down through hostile kobold warrens, darkened corridors and more just to win Deekin's freedom from the great white wyrm, Tymofarrar?

He considered it the least he could do. Besides, with the small meal from the fire earlier still a pleasant weight in his belly, he felt things were looking up.

Deekin straightened in the larger space, breathing deep the scent of rock and dirt. While the others might have felt claustrophobic, Deekin had spent much of his days as a little kobold scurrying through caverns and more in the dark, and to him, the earth was almost like a giant, comforting mother's womb about him, even if he had gained a new appreciation for faraway places. Several times during the long travel through the earth, he had stopped to become entranced by an odd formation of rock or a cluster of mushrooms until Jezra had prodded him none-too-gently in the hindquarters to move him forward. In many ways, she reminded him of both the Boss, and Xanos, willing to humour him, but only up to a point.

Deekin's keen eyes could make out most of the cavern, and although it appeared largely empty save for a few fallen, leaning chunks of rock, his spirits remained undampened. "Come on!" he yelled happily into the tunnel. "Come on!"

Jezra emerged first, sneezing violently and sending up a large cloud of dust. She surged eagerly to her feet, straightening with a relieved sigh. "Oh, that don't feel less'n half good." she murmured, knuckling the small of her back. Deekin saw her large, almond-shaped eyes blink in the dark. "Although I don't think the destination was near worth the journey."

"What is it?" Jacobson called from behind Errigal as the gnome emerged. The human sounded extremely depressed, and although Deekin didn't like him very much, he still felt a twinge of sympathy. "I don't suppose it's a nymph's abode with some soft cushions and wine?"

"That depends on how often ye've taken a knock 'round your skull before lookin' at it." Jezra said wryly.

"Often enough in his case. Budge up, budge up, get a move on . . . " came Phineas's voice, sounding more irritable than usual, and Jacobson hurriedly knelt as soon as he'd climbed out to help the old human to his feet. Phineas grunted, standing with an audible crack. He looked around, scowled, then brandished the hand not holding the staff in the air. "Let's have a look at what we've gotten ourselves into."

At the first flare of the by now familiar globe of blue-white light, as the rest of the cavern came into stark relief, Deekin felt the first slight dip in his spirits.

It was completely empty.

"Figures." Jezra muttered, walking past him.

The cavern was large enough for more than a dozen fully grown humans to stand comfortably in, even with the fallen rocks, and though the walls were craggy and chipped and uneven, there didn't appear to be any small opening about. Jezra laid a slim, long-fingered hand against a slab of rock as she peered around. "Ain't nothin' here but dust and dirt." she sounded both disgusted and very tired. Deekin dipped his head sadly; although she had been short with him from time to time, Jezra seemed to be a good enough person, and besides, Deekin hated to think of anyone being angry with him.

Phineas looked around. Rather than scowling, however, he seemed intrigued. And, as Deekin watched, the old human pointed his staff in the direction of the far wall and muttered somethin in a low tone.

Recognising the twist of arcane words, Deeking turned eagerly to watch. There was nothing like a free magic show.

The end of the staff glowed briefly and faintly with a soft white light that seemed to pulse outwards like a heartbeat, running over every contour of the stone in the room like a lover's caress. It crawled up the far wall with astonishing fluidity, like a living cloak of light, and Deekin thought he saw small tendrils probing into the rocks.

And then, abruptly, the entire wall began to melt.

Jezra straightened up, eyes widening, and Deekin heard Jacobson give a shout of surprise, although Phineas's face remained deep in concentration. The rock appeared to be dissolving like ice under heat, shimmering as it went, and a dim shape began to be revealed behind it. As the last of the light faded and the rock vanished, revealing another wall several feet behind it, Deekin applauded and Phineas smirked in satisfaction. "Parlor tricks, kobold. They'll need better than that."

"What is it?" Jezra asked, cautiously approaching the object that had been revealed.

"I should think that was obvious." Errigal said, marching past her. "It's a mirror."

And so it was. Standing well over Phineas's height, it was easily the tallest mirror Deekin had ever seen. It's frame was rather plain and ordinary, wood not even polished or sanded and in fact splintered and gouged in several places, especially at the hinges that allowed the mirror to be spun overhead in place, but Deekin still thought it was interesting. He leaned closer to see wether his reflection would be distorted in the tall glass, but realised he couldn't see himself. In fact --

"Now, isn't that something." Phineas murmured, striding over and leaning forward until his hawkish nose was barely an inch from the glass, although the surface didn't fog from his exhalations. "I daresay they haven't any archives like that even in Athkatla."

Beyond the mirror was a large cavern, rough stone walls filled with shelves that looked to have been dug from the rock, and packed solid with books. Several torches, high up on the ceiling, cast a half-hearted light on the floor, where Deekin could see layers of dust and dirt disturbed by the passage of many feet. His heart gave an odd little flip at the sight of all the books; when he had still been in the service of Tymofarrar, the time he had been given to himself to read the tomes belonging to the dragon had been his happiest, turning each page carefully and lovingly even late into the night until Old Master's rumbling snores lulled him to sleep. Twen herself had been possessed of a few books or two that she had carried with her, and had allowed Deekin to read them each night they stopped, and although they had been little more than favoured childhood tales, Deekin had read each as avidly as a historian might peruse a scholar's bookbag.

By now, Jezra had clustered around as well, leaning over Deekin's head. "Magic mirrors." she said, dully. She didn't seem nearly as impressed as Deekin was. Even after travelling so far with the Boss, magic never failed to delight him.

"I think we can rule out gnolls for this." Errigal said suddenly, and Deekin jumped. He had nearly forgotten the gnome was there. Although he was thankful for her help, she was often silent for long periods of time. "Unless, Phineas, you know something I don't?"

"Nope." the old human responded, gaze still fixed on the mirror -- or was it a window, Deekin wondered? "Never seen a gnoll smart enough to manage anything like this."

"And what," Jacobson ventured, "is it?"

Phineas didn't respond immediately, stroking his grizzled chin thoughtfully. When he finally did speak, his tone was different; authoratative and informing, rather than demanding. "Look around you, Jarred. Tell me what you see."

Curious, Deekin followed the human's instructions as well. He didn't see anything of particular interest in the cavern; no crawling bugs, no odd rock formations, nothing. He glanced back at the mirror . . . and his eyes widened suddenly. "Deekin knows!" he said happily, startling them all. "That be same room we be in, only with books and shelves and torches!"

"That's -- " began Jacobson angrily.

" --- absolutely correct." Phineas cut in. Deekin thought the human might have actually smiled slightly, and he puffed out his chest with pride. "Look around. Take out the fallen rock, and this place is the exact dimensions of what you see on the other side of the mirror, down to the last crack in the floor."

Jezra looked confused. She reached out hesitantly and rapped smartly on the glass with her knuckles. "So . . . what, then? That's where the elf is?"

"Maybe."

At this, Deekin eagerly pressed his snout against the glass, but he could see no part of his missing boss. Disappointed, he looked up as Phineas grasped the edge of the frame. "We'll have to see for ourselves, then, won't we?" And he pushed on the mirror, hard, sending the glinting glass surface spinning like a top end over end.

Deekin was just about to ask what he had done when suddenly the entire world flipped upside down.