I Have Nothing (Jericho)

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When: Morning…Aroila 21, 4010AoS
Location: Outskirts of Eastern Marches, Zetomar

~

The hood was pulled high on her cloak. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. A moon ago they were meant to be leaving home soon to a new cave and for a fresh start. Kyrial had been so excited when he spoke of the land available for them to move to…right away. They needed to pack and be on the road. Even in his draconic form, he’d been unable to carry everything and with Tilsin dead as well they had to settle for themselves and few pack mules. Haeldor was always afraid of being on the open road, nervous about running into other humans…people who would look far too closely at her.

She was a small woman, only half the way to five feet. She was also lightweight. They also had their nest to consider and Soscena’s bed. The tot meant that they would have to make frequent stops for bladder relief and eating. A fortnight ago they began outwards on their designs. It was simply really. A few weeks of travel and they would have made it to a cave Kyrial had spotted one day while going on a herbal collecting run for Hael. It was not to be. The drow’s pale eyes slitted as she tried to figure out who had told. Who was it that had informed others that a peculiar man and his lifemate were traveling along that road?

Who was it that mentioned she was an elf? Was it the woman he’d bought the mule from? Did he let it slip on accident? They were always so used to being on edge, that the comfort of outside help might have made him too much at ease. Regardless, he’d been stripped away from her. Their would-be kidnappers had not been prepared for Kyrial to assume his draconic form. It was the image of him fighting fiercely amongst a growing group of armed men that carried Haeldor. She gathered up her haversack, her child and ran. Luck would have it that Ssussun had followed her as well. The small owl looked so sad that she was unsure what had happened to Kyrial.

Haeldor had no clue where her lover was and now, a fortnight later she was traveling alone, save the owl and Soscena. “Opsola…” The child murmured, in draconic. Hael knew that as much as she missed Kyrial, she would be fine…but the child had never gone without her father for this long. How was she supposed to continue to teach Soscena the tongue if she didn’t know all of it herself?

Broken memories, broken languages…and a broken heart. He can’t be dead…he’ll find us. I know he will. Haeldor also knew that the hope was fanciful at best. One thing was certain though. She needed food and shelter…and to replenish her supplies.

And elves were hunted. Dragons were things of long-past legends but people knew that elves still existed. Her stomach churned a little at the prospect of being on the run yet again. It wasn’t just her though. Now her daughter would have to learn to be overly cautious and mistrustful and would need to learn how to properly hide.

Hiding… Always on the run. Hael’s eyes watered and she stopped walking for a moment. Kneeling, she hugged Soscena to her, the child also wearing a hooded cloak. Ssussun hooted and adjusted a bit in his place on Haeldor’s shoulder.

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I Have Nothing…

Part I…

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Aroila 21, 4010 AoS
Outskirts of Eastern Marches, Zetomar

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Thunder clapped in the distance, and Jericho sighed. Zetomar was the wettest of the continents, a fact that Jericho hated. He hated getting wet; he hated being rained on, etc etc. While the man of war was accustomed to the worst of Solabrens conditions, there was nothing that shit on his parade EVER quite like rain. Therefore, Jericho stopped his trip early this morning, even as the sun rose, just mere miles down the road from his last encampment, and began setting up a shelter in the edge of a cave. It was half raised from the ground, sinking down into Solabren far enough that Jericho could toss a torch down and see that the ground was dry, but nothing more. A natural ramp climbed to the mouth, and Jericho guessed that the grade was easy enough for Vakr to traverse without problem, and so he plunged the first down the hole to the back of the cave. Fico followed easily enough, and the torch casted enough light at the bottom of the tunnel to allow Jericho to see what was going on.

The cave was one large cavern, almost perfectly rounded and flat. The interior, at one time, had been used as a homestead, Jericho could see; a fire pit had blackened the floor on the left wall while the right sported a torch mounting bracket. He dismounted Vakr and picked up the torch he had thrown down, dropping it in the torch mount and then leading Vakr toward the back of the cave where he hitched the horse to a stalagmite. Fico bedded down nearby, and Jericho gave the mountain wolf a quick scratch behind the ears before stepping back toward the center of the cavern.

”Hello?” He asked to no one in particular, listening as his voice boomed into the depths of the cave. Then he waited for a moment.

Nothing answered in return. That was good.

Then, of course, came the business of setting up camp. Jericho listened to the roar of the approaching storm outside, and decided that this day may make a fine day for resting. He took advantage of a pile of firewood in the corner of the cave and make a makeshift fire in the burn pit before offloading Vakr’s kit and his bed roll. The warrior stacked his weapons and dropped the main piece of his armor; the chest and back piece. Soon smoke was rolling up the ceiling of the right wall and out the mouth of the cave, and Jericho was cooking.

Yes. This may make a fine day for rest indeed.

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Time: One Hour Past

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Fate just was not on her side this day… It couldn’t have been. The small woman scowled under her hood as the storm continued to increase in strength. Nature, it seemed, was conspiring against her. Grumbling under her breath, she glanced down to Soscena. As badly as she was faring in adverse weather, the little girl was doing worse. Their clothing was quickly drenched by the deluge, making the thick material heavier. Ssussun had already tried to shake his feathers dry multiple times. Now the owl resorted to plaintively hooting and focusing on hanging on to his mistress.

Almost slipping a little, Haeldor grit her teeth and struggled to maintain her balance. It wasn’t going to work out too well if she lost her reserve and fell into the muck underneath her. Mud readily churned up under and around her boots, the stuff forcing her to struggle more. Hearing a whimper, she glanced down to Soscena again. The child was whimpering and the drow knew it was only a matter of time before she was subjected to one of her daughter’s nearly ear-splitting crying fits. It broke her heart every time Soscena cried, having heard it so rarely from the child. “Dask... zaja...” She warbled, her small voice wobbling.

Swallowing hard and with tears blurring her vision again, Haeldor lost her footing and went down in the mud. After a moment, she lifted her head from the mire, her hands sinking into the soggy ground and spit mud from her mouth. Grimacing she struggled to get back to her feet, more than a little bit aware of her daughter’s worried gaze focused on her. “Xun naut eszak, lerg. Ilhar zhah ula.” Her vision swam a little and Haeldor hoped that her words had been correct. This was getting increasingly tedious. She needed to find shelter for the both of them and quickly. There was no way she was going to be able to fashion anything from branches or leaves, all of the greenery around them saturated. Hiding her ears blocked a portion of her hearing, as well as protect her identity.

Now she decided to take the risk. After resuming more secure footing and bracing her knees, the drow whipped her hood off and began making sharp little clicks with her mouth. Soscena looked up at her mother, her smaller ears twitching in time with the sounds. They were the same she’d heard even from within the womb. Closing her eyes, Haeldor turned her head to and fro, following the brief bursts of red that came from the sounds. Her head whipped to the right, her peculiar method of echolocation. A cave…not too far away.

“Come, Soscena!” She felt a tug on her cloak and looked at the tear-stained little face glancing up at her. Grimacing a bit, she ducked down, scooped Soscena up into her arms and began to hasten her pace. Ssussun perched himself on Hael’s pack and held on for dear life.

There was, with caves, always the possibility of their being animals that she would have to contend with… However… Haeldor’s eyes narrowed… even when ill, she was going to protect her child. She did not care what was in that cave; it would have to go through her to get to Soscena. The possibility of shelter that it offered was too good to pass up. “Hold on tight, sweetness.” She murmured, feeling Soscena wrap all limbs around her chest and belly…pressing close and holding on. Stretching her arms forward, Haeldor sunk her clawed fingers through the mud and into the dirt, securing hand holds to pull herself up to the mouth of the cave. She was careful to not press her abdomen to the surface she was climbing, not wanting to crush her daughter.

Once at the top though, she heard a faint crackling noise. Fire? Narrowing her eyes, she wrapped her filthy arms around Soscena. Someone was here? She would have to just deal with whoever it was. Carefully she walked forward, Soscena still holding on to her as before. The child had been taught to never let go unless she was directly told to. She winced as her muddy boots made noise on the slope, announcing her presence earlier than she wanted to.

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The heat of the fire sent the firewood to crackling soon, warming the cave and actually bringing on a heat that Jericho was hardly prepared for in the already hot Zetomar summer. At least the storm outside had brought on the cool air of a summer’s breeze, and the rain itself worked to cool their environment, even as he huddled in his own little sweatshop that he was beginning to think of as Solabren’s armpit. He had dropped all of his armor and equipment, save for his boots and trousers, and his xiphos remained strapped at his side; it was a common theme for him, to remain armed. He had once told someone (perhaps it had been Ranrusa) that he didn’t so much as shit without a weapon. And for good reason. You never knew when you were going to be attacked, and the enemy (whoever it might be) would always attack you at your most vulnerable.

The thought had no more than formed itself in his mind when he heard the sound of someone on the sloped entrance of the cave. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself to his feet, pulling the xiphos free with one hand, the Ultima Harness relinquishing easily enough, while he went for the torch on the wall with the other. He hadn’t heard voices, so perhaps it was an animal or something. He’d know soon enough, of course; Jericho traversed the lower portion of the cavern, back toward the ambient light that was creeping in in the direction from which he had come. Fico wasted no time following him, a deep growl in the back of his throat.

”Who goes there?”[/color] He asked, holding the torch forward, his great barrel chest glistening with sweat from the close proximity of the fire. ”Speak fast or be about your way.”[/color]

Then he saw the child, and replaced the sword at his hip with a mutter.

”Well shit…if you’re coming down come on.”[/color] He said, digging deep for some hospitality, if only for the sake of the kid. After all, how would he feel if someone denied one of his children shelter because they didn’t feel secure? He reach his hand up and motioned as if to help either of them down, if they wanted it.

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Her disappointment was nothing compared to the shock of hearing a voice come from within the belly of the cave. There is a person in here? And from the depth of the voice… Haeldor’s steps became uncertain. Her lover had a deep voice, but not nearly as much as this one. She heard boot steps then, along with a growling sound. Some sort of beast was in the cave with the male. Tensing her jaw, she spoke rapidly in her own native tongue. “ Soscena, harl! Queelas dalhar!” Heeding commands, the tot loosened her hold. Haeldor maneuvered her body between Soscena and whatever was rapidly walking toward them.

Whatever or whomever it was, it was big and fast. Long legs… Her ears twitched, remembering the many long walks she’d gone on with Kyrial. She knew it had been trying for him to adjust his stride to accommodate her far shorter legs. Soscena peeked around her mother’s left shoulder at the large bodies approaching them.

Haeldor’s ears flattened a bit against her head, and she dropped her hood at the flash of light bouncing off a sword. Despite the closeness in height, it was obvious that Haeldor was the older between herself and her daughter. The ‘growling hound’ turned out to be a wolf. Great. Just wonderful. Puffing up an unimpressive chest, she was growling herself in response to the wolf, revealing unusually prominent and elongated canines on the upper and lower parts of her jaw. As she took in the full, sweaty image of her would be ‘adversary’ her pale colored eyes widened just a fraction. She immediately dropped the threatening posture.

She realized throwing herself threateningly against this man would prove to be a very bad idea. Thankfully, he had lowered his weapon…possibly at the sight of Soscena. Blinking carefully, she listened as he told them they could come down. She was uncertain, especially when fully taking in the image of bulging and sweaty muscles. This did not seem like a very good idea at all. Haeldor had the words on the tip of her tongue. The only recourse they would have would be to go right back out into the storm though.

Deciding for them was the small scops owl still trying to pick his feathers clean. Sensing the heat coming from further away, down where the man and his wolf had come from, the small feather head managed to get enough lift to take to the air. It took a bit of shivering and shaking to dislodge enough water. Flying over to the wolf, Ssussun attempted to land on the wolf’s head, doing his best to dodge claws and teeth. Haeldor eye-balled her feathery companion. “It is agreed then, rivvil jaluk.” Her accent alone would have shown she was from somewhere else entirely.

Sighing as Soscena walked around her then, she began following the man she did not quite trust down to comforting warmth. “Nindol alur naut tlu natha duanda.” She grumbled under her breath. Though he did not look that threatening. At least not yet.

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”Dammit Fico!”[/color] Jericho said, dodging away from the little Drow woman and her offspring in order to save the bird. What was it with birds anyways? He thought about that god’s be damned parrot of Cyri Stormborn’s, and irritation ran up his throat like puke. He rushed back across the interior clearing of the cavern and caught Fico by the ear as the wolf lunged at the silly little owl again, barely saving it’s feather butt at the last conceivable second. The bird was even dumb enough to land on Fico’s back, leaving Jericho with nothing to do but sigh.

The lady and her child climbed the rest of the way down in their sopping wet clothes. Having saved the owl, as far as he could tell at least, Jericho released Fico’s ear and gave him a sharp little whistle. If the wolf could scowl, Jericho felt like that’s what he would be doing. Instead, he just looked up at his master with a look that spelled irritation, and then looked back at his avian hitch hiker. He had previously rolled his furs, which he took everywhere, upon landing on the continent of Zetomar. He was glad to have them here, however, even in the summer months; the females were soaked and would probably like to dry their clothes and warm up. He might be sweating, but he was sure that being soaked to the bone meant they were a little bit on the cold side.

”What brings someone of your err…disposition…to Zetomar?”[/color] Jericho asked, handing the furs off to the oldest of the pair. ”It’s a good thing the weather is poor. Otherwise someone could have seen you.”[/color]

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Amusement lacking in any concern filled the drow’s pale eyes. She looked almost as if she’d laugh, watching her small feathery companion dodging snapping jaws, lingering long enough to nearly let the hound get close. Many watching would be horrified to see their pet in such a position. That would be true for her, perhaps, if Ssussun was a pet. Still, despite how agile the owl was, she did breathe a sigh of relief when the man halted his wolf in doing harm to the owl. Ssussun, true to form, began gently grooming and massaging the part of the wolf he was seated on.

Holding back a grin, Haeldor watched her footing as she and Soscena followed the strange human to the large fire in the cave. Her eyes narrowed a little at the brightness, her skin warming slowly but surely. She was beginning to itch just a little bit as the mud liberally coating her began to dry. Carefully, she began to scratch at some of the stuff. Soscena had removed her hood and was staring up at their savior with inquisitive golden eyes, water plastering black locks to her head and face. Haeldor folded her arms a little as he began speaking.

Disposition? Worry etched its way across her brow, the drow shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Did he know or was he assuming? He might mean the weather. Hael sighed. She and her daughter had been on the run from everything and everyone for many days. It would be nice for her to be able to relax…if only for a moment. As she opened her mouth to speak, she paused, eyeing him warily. Was it safe to say anything? She knew the man would be expecting some sort of answer.

Swallowing hard and trying not to shift too nervously, the drow spoke. “We were supposed to move to a new home. Somewhere different. S-…Somewhere safe.” Her chin wobbled a little, but she continued to speak. “The packing was done and we were on our way. We were attacked on the road.” Her pale brows furrowed and she glanced to her daughter. “My mate did his best to fight off the attackers so Soscena and I could get away.” She sighed. “He saved us…the both of us.”

Or more. For right now, she was not sure. A tingle of unease wriggled down her spine.

“Ilharn?” Her daughter piped up. Her wide-eyed stare at the large muscled man in front of her was confused…uncertain. She glanced to Haeldor, blinking a bit like the feathery nuisance still grooming the wolf’s back. “Ilhar?” Folding her arms and sighing, Haeldor shook her head lightly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You will have to forgive her. She…did naut often speak common tongue at home. There was…rarely a need.” The drow rubbed her jaw, wondering how she would explain that particular statement. “Bel'la dos for your generosity.” Nearly gagging over expressing gratitude to a human… Thanking others in general…that was still a habit she was growing used to. “We were fortunate to have avoided any other humans…until you of course.”

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The smell of the cooking stew began to fill the room shortly after Jericho had brought the lady and her kid down, and he could immediately tell they were in need; maybe more so than they would admit. He sat down and pulled the cooking pot from the fire and deposited a spoon in the food before setting it all before the woman.

”Feed your child and then yourself. I’ll eat whatever is left.”[/color] He said, pulling a bag of nuts from his saddlebags and beginning to eat. ”That’s what I meant, about your disposition; humans don’t take kindly to Drow, not here, not anywhere. A lone mother and her daughter aren’t anything but a target on the highway. For sport. For pleasure. For simple bigotry. I’m surprised that your mate and your belongings are all you lost.”[/color]

The fire crackled, bathing them all in the comforting light of its flame. He thought of how not all that long ago he had regarded Drow, and anyone of Elven origin, as trash. Now though…he was indifferent. Maybe a little bit of living in a world filled with dying was beginning to teach him something. The little girl just looked at him through golden eyes, and Jericho looked back, shifting his gaze from the edge of the fire. Then she said something.

”I don’t understand the foreign dialect.”[/color] He stated, looking them both over. The only languages he truly knew well were Common and ancient Ursidian, the former being spoken almost universally and the latter having been self-taught around the time of the undead army. He remembered trying to write his name in Ursidian in the snows of the Serpan Mountains with piss when the risen bear had attacked him. What a day that had been. His best guess at the language was Draconic, but he wasn’t even sure enough to guess. ”What did she say?”

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Lighting up in spite of trying to maintain a dourer disposition, Haeldor carefully shed her mud sodden cloak. Her vest was liberally coated with mud, along with her skirt. Soscena was already wriggling free of her cloak, bare from the waist up. Her small trousers were muddy as well. A spasm of alarm ran down the drow’s spine as she darted a glance to the massive wall of muscle before them. What was he going to say when he realized that the little girl with her was more than she seemed at first? Was she wrong to worry? Maybe he would do nothing at all. Swallowing down her fear, Haeldor plastered on a small smile and dipped her head in gratitude. “My thanks to you.” Her daughter bounced lightly where she sat, her wings twitching a little where they were tucked against her bare back. Even her tail was waggling a little, much like a beloved pet awaiting a treat.

Due to her unusual chemistry, Soscena had not worn anything resembling a normal shirt in a long while. The wings themselves would likely cause questions. Her booted feet tapped a little against the ground as a decent supply of meat was ladled from the pot into a bowl to her. Knowing where the meal came from initially, Soscena grinned toothily at the man, firelight bouncing off the small but still sharp fangs of her upper and lower jaw. Her eyes were normally burnished gold, looking molten now in the light. They lacked irises or pupils, things that her mother possessed. They were strange and out of place; even the sharp, dark nails she used to eat with looked wrong. On anyone else, it would have been out of the ordinary, but between the claws, wings and scales on her chin, it seemed…just right. Her dark hair hung a little over her eyes from being wet, but would dry soon.

Haeldor served herself a decent amount and then put the spoon back in place. Her bowl had more vegetables than her daughter, but she had left more than enough for the man before them. “Rivvil do not like elves in general. I did not know that they would target creatures thought of as legend.” The woman was momentarily distracted as the flavor of the food burst on her tongue. It had been a very very long time… She missed her lover’s cooking. Yawning a bit mid bite, she coughed lightly and excused herself. The fangs in her mouth were visible and likely the source of her accent. “They did though. Sometimes I feel like the whole situation is my fault.”

For a while, Haeldor grew quiet. Her ice blues were focused on the bowl she ate from, her features showing her pleasure at the taste. Soscena was a very messy eater, her small mouth covered with the juices from the bowl. Her hands and arms were also coated in the slick and slightly sticky substance. The child had been studiously avoiding the vegetables in the bowl until being gently nudged by her mother. Hearing the man speak, Haeldor glanced up from her meal.

“Taudl.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I mean…sorry.” Sighing softly, she locked eyes with him. “She was confused by how big you are…and asked if you were her father.” Pale brows twitched lightly. “The language she’s speaking is a variant of undercommon. It is the language of the drow.” One of her brows quirked. “She’s fluent in common as well, but we did not always use it.”

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He could only nod in understanding at the answer he was given. He supposed he should have known that the girl was speaking Drow. The words her mother was supplementing in conversation seemed familiar to him, but the obvious answer…had not been so obvious.

Jericho eyed the little girl as she undressed herself not with shock…but more intrigue. The little girl was something different, something he hadn’t really seen before. She reminded him in some ways of Camilla Dres, with the wings and the tail, but was otherwise not in the least the same sort of perverse monstrosity that Camilla had been. The little girl was different. She didn’t seem, at first site, to be of demonic decent, but to be something of flesh and blood creation. He puzzled over her. He knew that she was at least half Drow…but the other half he was unsure of… The child’s wings twitched some as she sat, and Jericho watched them intently. He got the feeling that her ability to fly, if she could at all, was not fully developed, but he couldn’t be sure.

He wouldn’t know, ultimately, unless she got up and started darting through the air of the cavern.

”Of course they did.”[/color] Jericho said, starting to eat his own bowl of food. ”It is in the nature of all beings to destroy that which they do not understand, and creatures of legend that they cannot understand the origins of…well…it’s self-explanatory.”[/color]

His eyes watched the child eat, not even paying much attention to his own food. Assuming it was rude, and somewhat improper, to stare at a naked child, he decided to focus back on his food as he spoke again.

”You both seem to be…physiologically different than most anyone I’ve ever encountered.”[/color] He said softly. It wasn’t meant to be rude or to cause malicious feelings, but it was true. He was intrigued by the physical differences of these two, and even the differences between mother and daughter. ”Where are you going? What is your destination?”[/color]


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