The Trail to Chimney Rock

Two days after the companions helped Arkayz retrieve a tome from the wreckage of his lab (see the previous chapter), the Wizard sent for them. He asked, since they were already involved, if they would travel to the village of Chimney Rock and deliver his reply to Kodik Wolftamer. Agreeing, the four had set out that day, and were now climbing steadily into the foothills of the Throal Mountains.

"I hate traveling," said Tomas as he sat down on a rock. He pulled his boots off and began rubbing his feet. "They feel like they're about to drop off."

"You probably shouldn't have bought brand new boots before we set out," said Brighton.

Bearclaw looked at the dark clouds gathering in the west. "Bad weather is coming tonight. We should find shelter."

"Wonderful," moaned Tomas. "I'm cold, hungry, sore in places I didn't even know I had, and now it's going to rain and soak everything. Now I know why most Wizards stay indoors. Why couldn't we at least have bought a tent?"

"Because we needed to buy food for the trip," said Mica. "I'd rather be wet than starving."

"You call what we've been eating these last three days food? I may as well start chewing on this rock. It would taste just as good."

"I thought you had traveled all over Barsaive with your master?" asked Brighton.

"Yes, but in a civilized fashion," replied Tomas. "A carriage."

"Ah, the benefits of being apprenticed to a rich Wizard."

Bearclaw had scouted ahead on the trail, and now returned. "We can find shelter farther up the trail. We should get moving to reach it before the storm arrives."

Grumbling, Tomas pulled his boots on, and the four resumed their journey. Nearly an hour of steady climbing later, a flock of six flightless birds crested the hill before them. The birds stood taller than Mica, with long, powerful legs. Each of their heads, which sat atop a long, thin neck, had a large hooked beak.

"What are those things?" asked Mica.

"Whatever they are," said Tomas. "They shouldn't cause us too much trouble."

"If they aren't going to cause us much trouble," asked Brighton, "why are they running toward us like that?"

Indeed, the birds were heading towards them, and picking up speed.

Bearclaw moved in front of Tomas and readied himself for the creatures' charge. Mica drew his sword and moved beside the hide-clad human. "What do you think, Bearclaw?" he asked.

"I think we should be ready."

The charging birds split left and right of the travelers. Turning their heads as they passed they breathed out a cloud of orange vapor. Caught by surprise, Tomas inhaled the noxious fumes. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

"Passions!" cried Brighton, his eyes watering. "These things are poisonous!"

Bearclaw and Mica leapt into action as the birds turned around for another pass. Brighton dragged the choking Wizard away from the immediate battle and uncoiled his whip.

Two of the birds charged Bearclaw, snapping at him with their powerful beaks. He struck back with a clawed hand, drawing blood. Mica's blade whirled as three birds circled him. One of them struck, making a gash in the Swordmaster's shoulder. Mica responded with a thrust to the bird's vestigial wing, and the clearly audible crack indicated he broke a bone. The bird screeched in pain and turned to flee.

The last bird circled warily around the Troubadour and the limp Wizard. Brighton kept the animal at bay with cracks of his whip, occasionally sending feathers drifting to the ground.

Meanwhile, one of the other birds breathed another cloud of gas on Mica. He held his breath and slashed again, knocking the bird down with the force of his blow. Bearclaw had wrestled one of his opponents to the ground and slashed its neck with his claws. Glancing over, Bearclaw saw Brighton desperately fending off the bird that was trying to get at Tomas, who now just lay on the ground, eyes staring skyward.

Bearclaw dashed across the rocky ground and leapt into the air. He landed between the bird and Brighton, twisting in midair so he faced the animal. He slashed the bird's head with his claws, cracking its skull and knocking it aside.

The other birds decided to find easier prey and ran, their cries echoing off the rocky mountain slopes.

Mica joined the others. "How's Tomas?" he asked, looking down at the motionless Wizard. "Is he...?"

Bearclaw knelt and laid his ear to Tomas' chest. "He lives. He does not seem to be wounded."

"Then why isn't he moving?" asked Brighton.

"The orange breath from those birds," said Mica. "It must have frozen him or something. It sure got all over everything."

The travelers were coated in a residue that, coupled with the sweat from their recent exertions, had stained their clothes and exposed skin bright orange. Mica rubbed at the back of his hand. "Damn stuff won't come off." He poured some water on his hands and began rubbing vigorously.

As Bearclaw dragged Tomas into a more comfortable position, Brighton began rummaging through his pack, pulling out a wineskin. "We may not be going anywhere for a while, so we might as well get comfortable."

Mica's hands were still orange. "Water doesn't work," he muttered to himself. "Maybe something else will." He grabbed the skin from Brighton's and poured wine on his hands. The orange stain remained. Mica swore. "Not only are my clothes ruined, but I'm orange!" He glared at a nearby bird carcass, and cocked his arm to throw the wineskin at it.

"I don't know, Mica," said Brighton, snatching back the skin. "I think it's a very nice color. It makes you look dashing."

"It makes you look like an idiot," replied Mica.

Brighton shrugged. "There's nothing that can be done about it now, is there?" He looked at Bearclaw. "Do you think those things are edible? It might be nice to have real food for a change."

Bearclaw shrugged. "I do not know. I have never encountered these birds before."

"I thought you were the experienced wilderness survival person!" Brighton shook his head and looked over at Mica. "We're doomed, I can tell."

"I have only been away from my village a short time," said Bearclaw. "While I learned much of the tracker's ways, I was not taught about these animals. I would not eat something I do not know."

Brighton sighed. "I guess not. Anyway, they're probably really stringy from all that running around they do."

Mica sat on a nearby rock and began sharpening his sword. "Nothing to do now but wait for Tomas to wake up."

Bearclaw started up the path they had been following. "I will scout ahead."

"Have fun," said Brighton. "Don't get lost."

Half an hour later, Tomas sat up, coughing.

"Welcome back," said Mica. "Hope you're well rested. Bearclaw hasn't found any shelter yet, and the storm is getting closer." A distant rumble of thunder echoed his words.

Tomas carefully stood and stretched. "I feel terrible." He rubbed at the orange stain on his skin. "You're sure this stuff doesn't come off?"

"If I could have gotten it off, don't you think I would have?" asked Mica. "Wait a minute, you could hear us talking?"

"Yes. It was the strangest sensation. I heard everything you said, and could see what I was facing, but I was unable to move. The vapor must have been a paralytic toxin. Any idea what those creatures were?"

"None at all. Come on, Brighton and Bearclaw are just ahead. We need to get moving if we hope to find shelter."

A light drizzle soon began, turning into a steady rain over the next half hour. Rumbles of thunder grew closer as the companions continued their hike into the mountains.

"I am thoroughly uncomfortable," grumbled Tomas. "Did I mention that I hate traveling?"

"I agree," said Brighton. "I'm swimming in my boots."

"You look like a drowned rat," said Mica.

"You're looking fine yourself, Mica," replied the Troubadour.

Bearclaw was the only one the rain didn't seem to bother. He would scout ahead seeking shelter, and return to make sure the others didn't lose the trail. He returned from one of these treks and the others fell silent.

"There is a rock overhang ahead," he said.

"How far?" asked Tomas.

"Not far. We must hurry."

The four picked up the pace, mud from the trail spattering their legs. As they rounded a bend in the trail, Brighton sighted the overhang Bearclaw had mentioned.

"There's barely enough room for us! You must be insane."

"It will keep us dry," Bearclaw replied.

"It's better than walking around in this rain," said Mica. "We better set up what camp we can."

"How much farther to the village?" asked Tomas.

"We should reach it tomorrow or the next day," said Bearclaw.

"I don't know why I didn't accept that position with my family's business," said Brighton. "This adventuring life is awful. I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm hungry, and I'm broke. This is hardly what I expected when I signed up for this."

"It can't all be glory and fame," said Mica. "Sometimes you have to slog through a swamp in order to find a lost city."

"Have you ever slogged through a swamp, Mica?"

The dwarf thought for a moment. "Not that I remember."

"Then keep quiet."

"We should get some sleep," said Bearclaw. "The weather will keep animals away."

"That's some consolation," said Tomas. "It's good to know I won't get eaten. I may freeze to death or catch Quaking Fever, but I won't get eaten. I much prefer a slow, lingering illness to a quick death from blood loss."

The four spent an uncomfortable night in the cold and damp, unable to find dry wood for a fire. The thunder and lightening only added to their discomfort. But by morning, the storm had passed, and the sun was breaking through the cloud cover. The four set out again on the muddy trail.

"The worst part is," said Brighton, "as soon as we deliver the letter, we have to turn around and make the trip back again."

"Don't remind me," said Tomas. "I'm trying not to think about that."

Mica looked up at the rocks that flanked the trail. "Hold on, I thought I saw something."

"Probably something big and nasty that wants to eat us," said Brighton.

Mica glanced at the Troubadour and snorted. "We'll make sure to feed you to it first."

Suddenly, a flash of tawny brown landed on Brighton, sending him sprawling. A mountain lion sat on the Troubadour's chest, looking down at the stunned young man with what seemed to be a mischievous gleam in its eye.

Before any of the others could react, a voice called out, "Hold! Are you friend or foe?"

An elf stepped into view on the trail ahead, dressed in leathers dyed to blend into the terrain. His dark brown hair was raggedly cut, and hung down below his shoulders. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the group.

"She won't hurt you, unless I tell her to. Are you friend or foe, and where are you bound?"

"I am sure we are friend and not foe," said Tomas. "We are bound for Chimney Rock with a message for Kodik Wolftamer."

The elf nodded. "You are friends." He whistled, and the great cat got off of Brighton and padded to the elf's side. "I am Kodik Wolftamer, and this is M'rowr."

Brighton sat up stiffly and dusted himself off. "M'rowr?"

"That's the name she gave when I asked," said Kodik with a grin.

"We bring you a message from Liridum Arkayz of Yistane," said Tomas. "We have been traveling for several days..."

"And had a run in with some crakbills, no doubt. You also look like you spent last night out in that storm. Come along. Chimney Rock isn't far, and you can give me the message then." He turned and started walking up the trail. M'rowr grinned at Brighton before turning and following Kodik.

"That cat is going to eat me alive, I can tell," moaned Brighton.

"For some reason, I think she has a little more taste than that," said Mica. "Come on. Maybe Kodik knows how to get these stains out."

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