Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 16
The monster was chasing Bredan through a dark forest.
He could hear it behind him, the harsh rasp of its breathing punctuated by rhythmic thuds of its claws tearing into the ground with each long stride. He couldn’t look back, didn’t dare shift his attention from the uneven ground ahead of him, but he could tell that it was getting closer.
Gnarled black trees with branches like deformed limbs rose up all around him. But they offered no hope of shelter; he already knew that if he tried to climb one it would crumble into ash. There was already a thick layer of it under his feet, slowing him just a little bit with each step he took.
The monster, apparently, had no such difficulties.
He didn’t have a weapon, and there was nothing around him with which he could defend himself. The trees didn’t leave anything behind but ash, and there were no stones, nothing he could pick up to try to hold off his pursuer. All he could do was keep running.
And then the forest ended, and a sharp cliff of crumbling stone rose up ahead of him. The cliff curved inward to his left and right, as if it had been set here as a trap, to pen him in.
As he looked around for a possible route of escape he saw the monster.
It had slowed down, confident now that its prey was trapped. It was a horrid combination of creatures. It had the furry, muscled body of a bear, down to the sharp curving claws that left gashes in the ashen soil with each step. But its head was insectoid, with huge multi-faced eyes and snapping mandibles that framed a mouth that dripped terrible acidic goo. It had a long snout that terminated in a point that stirred a memory, a hint that something wasn’t quite right.
But he didn’t get a chance to think it over as the monstrosity charged at him.
He ran toward the cliff, hoping against hope that he could climb it. But even as he placed his hands on the rock they crumbled at his touch, and he slumped back down. The rest of the cliff remained unflinchingly solid, offering no escape.
He turned around, his eyes wide, his mouth opening to scream. But before the sound could escape him he felt the bug-bear’s long proboscis plunging into his belly, deeper and deeper…
* * *
Bredan’s eyes flashed open as pain jolted through his stomach. He reached down to grasp at the shaft he’d felt impaling him, but there was nothing there, just his coat and the layer of armor underneath it. Even as his addled brain took that in the pain faded and he sucked in a deep breath. Looking up, he saw that Kosk was standing over him, his staff in his hand.
“You fell asleep,” the dwarf said. His voice was like the iron that covered the ends of his staff, hard and unyielding.
Bredan blinked and looked around. The camp was as he remembered it from the night before, when Quellan had woken him to stand his watch. The others were just stirring from their bedrolls. It was morning, though early enough that the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance above the horizon.
Morning.
His watch.
He’d fallen asleep.
“Sorry…” he mumbled as he started to get up. But Kosk’s staff flashed out, intercepting him. Bredan flinched, but the end stopped just short of impact, instead just pushing lightly into his chest.
“Sorry?” the dwarf asked. “You fell asleep on watch. It’s only blind luck that we weren’t all killed while you took your rest. Or have you forgotten the events of yesterday?”
“I said I was sorry,” Bredan said. That was as much to Glori and Quellan as to the dwarf, as the others had roused themselves enough to follow the exchange. Glori tugged her blanket around her body to ward off the morning chill.
“Sorry won’t keep you alive out here,” the dwarf said with disgust. He pulled down his staff and started to walk away.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one that set a pace that left us all worn down and exhausted,” Bredan said. “I made a mistake, and I own that, but damn it, we’re not made of iron.”
The dwarf turned back slowly, and from the look in his eyes there was a battle brewing there, but Quellan quickly intervened, stepping between them. Kosk said, “You’d be better off letting us clear this up once and for all, lad. This boy needs some sense pounded into him.”
“Fine with me,” Bredan snarled back. “I’m not a rock, I’ll fight back.”
“While I admit that I would take a certain pleasure in watching you two beat the living crap out of each other, this is neither the time nor the place,” Quellan said. “We have a lot more to do today than…”
He trailed off as soft music filled the clearing. The three men turned to see Glori sitting on the stones at the edge of their camp, her lyre cradled in her lap. The bard continued her playing, her fingers dancing over the strings of the instrument, her plectrum plucking out the notes. The melody started slowly, soft and almost sad, but it quickly built in pace and intensity. She added a martial tone, evocative of soldiers preparing themselves for battle. That passage transitioned into a march, the sharp notes sounding like the endless trudging of booted feet over a long road. But under that cadence something else was growing, a buildup of energy toward an inevitable confrontation. Just when it seemed that the song would erupt in a clash of arms the melody shifted once more, returning the long plaintive sounds of calm and peace with which she had started. The sense of loss that had been present then was now almost palpable, the notes full of regret and sadness.
When she finally finished the three men just stood there watching her. Bredan had heard her place that piece of music before; she’d called it “Alephron’s Regret.” But here, on a dim morning in the middle of nowhere, it had sounded completely different than it had when played in the background of a busy tavern. For a moment he’d thought he was actually there, marching along with Alephron and his armies to the final confrontation with the Dead King.
From the looks on their faces their other companions had been likewise affected. Quellan’s eyes glistened with a bright sheen. “That was…” the cleric began, but he couldn’t finish the thought.
Glori tucked her pick into one of the high pockets of her coat, then took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh before hopping suddenly to her feet.
“All right, who’s ready to start the day?” she said.
The sun had risen when they finally set out, though it remained hidden behind low clouds that promised another gloomy day. They deliberately avoided the old woman’s camp, but they had no difficulty finding the trail that led up to the cleft in the side of the bluff. The ascent was steep but manageable. They encountered a few places where loose rocks made the climb treacherous, but Kosk’s adage about the usefulness of rope proved true and they were able to manage that portion of the route without anything more serious than a few skinned knees.
Once they actually made it into the cleft the trail leveled out some, which was helpful given that the weak sunlight all but disappeared. As they passed out of the light into the narrow interior of the cleft Bredan felt a moment of panic; the shadowed shaft reminded him vividly of the dark landscape of his dream. But after a moment that premonition eased, and once his eyes adjusted he could see enough to make his way forward.
Glori paused, perhaps sensing that something was wrong. Looking back, she asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Though I’m finding myself envious of your eyes.”
She smiled. “We could light torches…”
“No, I’m fine for now. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.”
“You lovebirds coming?” Kosk’s voice drifted down from above. It had been perhaps too much to hope that the dwarf might have eased his hurried pace a bit now that they were creeping up the side of a mountain toward who knows what, Bredan thought.
The two hurried to catch up but found that their companions were waiting for them not far ahead. Just beyond them the cleft narrowed until the two sides came together in an abrupt stop. Above them the cleft extended for another hundred feet to the summit of the bluff, but one look at the sheer cliffs was enough to dissuade them from any interest in that direction.
But there was no need to climb; their destination was just ahead.
At the spot where the facing cliffs met there was a dark opening that led into the interior of the bluff. It was definitely man-made; Bredan could just make out the outline of roughly-hewn steps that led up to it, and it was framed by massive lintel stones that were too smooth and regular to be a natural feature. He wondered at the effort that would have been required to build this place, so far isolated from any outpost of civilization. Or had it been magic that had done this, magic of the sort that had brought them here in the first place?
He was so intent on his musing that he didn’t hear what Kosk had said. “What?” Bredan asked. He turned to see that the dwarf—and the others—were unslinging their packs.
The monk shot him a look, but he thankfully didn’t comment on his woolgathering. “I said, leave your packs and all your heavy gear. Bedrolls, extra clothes, pots and pans, any food that’s not ready-to-eat.”
Bredan looked up and down the length of the cleft. There were plenty of places where a pack or a few loose articles might be stashed, but between the four of them… “But what if someone steals our stuff?” he asked.
“If you get caught in a trap or can’t maneuver in a fight, you’ll have a much bigger problem,” Kosk said.
“We’ll bring plenty of torches, so you can see,” Quellan said. “And if it comes to it, I can summon light with my magic.”
Bredan carefully unslung his pack and found a spot for it in the rocks where it might not be immediately visible to someone coming by. He had to admit that he’d gotten rather attached to Kesren’s creation, even though it was a relief to get its weight off his back. He reached inside and took out a few canvas-wrapped torches that he tucked into his belt.
He hesitated over the crossbow. He had no idea what they would find beyond that dark opening, but he had a pretty good idea that it would involve close quarters. On the other hand, too close and he wouldn’t have room to use his sword. Finally he took the bow and the case of bolts; he could always leave them somewhere if they proved too cumbersome and pick them up on the way out.
He paused again when he came upon his set of tools. Obviously they wouldn’t be doing any smithing here, but he could think of a lot of other situations where the various metalworking instruments could come in handy. And they were easily contained in the leather wrap that his uncle had given him, which came with its own carrying strap.
He glanced up and saw that the others were all not only ready, but they were all watching him. He flushed and quickly slung the leather wrap across his opposite shoulder where it wouldn’t interfere with his baldric. “Ready,” he said.
“Shouldn’t you load that thing?” Quellan asked, indicating the crossbow.
“No,” Bredan and Kosk said simultaneously. When Kosk just growled Bredan quickly added, “A small draw-operated bow like this, it can’t take the long-term strain on the string and arms that a heavier winch-operated bow can. Keeping it drawn too long will damage both the strength and accuracy of the weapon.”
“Well, you’re the expert,” the half-orc said. He took out a torch and a piece of flint, and with a few strikes on the flanges of his mace got the pitch head burning. He picked up his shield and led the way toward the dark opening, with Kosk just behind him. Glori and Bredan followed close behind.
The dark opening seemed to drink up the light of the torch, revealing its secrets only reluctantly. They saw a passage that curved to the left before straightening for as far as the light extended. The walls and ceiling were stone worked smooth, and there were only a few scattered bits of rock in the entry before the route forward cleared.
The cleric stepped forward warily, shining the torch around before proceeding. Kosk gave the stone blocks to each side a good look, tapping them with his staff.
“Do you really think there will be a trap right at the entrance?” Glori asked.
Kosk growled something unintelligible, and Quellan explained, “I think we’re better off assuming that everything’s a trap until proven otherwise.”
Bredan remained a few steps back so that he wouldn’t get in the others’ way. But as he waited he detected something, a sharp scent of something burning that at first he blamed on the cleric’s torch. But the scent deepened, adding a sulphurous tinge that he recognized from the forge—that smell was a sign of bad coal that wasn’t going to be good for heating metal. He had no idea what it meant here, but he instinctively knew that it wasn’t good.
Looking around, he saw something that he’d missed initially. To the left of the entrance, partially hidden behind the mass of the stone that framed the opening, there was a small crevice in the rock, extending under the lintel. The smell seemed to be coming from that crevice, and as he bent lower to take a closer look he saw that it actually went on for quite a ways, widening a bit beyond that initial gap.
“Um… guys…” he began.
Two red points suddenly materialized within the depths of the crevice, accompanied by a low growl.
“Guys!” Bredan warned. He stumbled back while reaching for the hook to cock the crossbow. “I think I found the guardian!”
The others turned quickly to look, but even as Quellan lowered the torch toward the crevice a mass of fur and claws and fury exploded out of the opening and attacked.
The monster was chasing Bredan through a dark forest.
He could hear it behind him, the harsh rasp of its breathing punctuated by rhythmic thuds of its claws tearing into the ground with each long stride. He couldn’t look back, didn’t dare shift his attention from the uneven ground ahead of him, but he could tell that it was getting closer.
Gnarled black trees with branches like deformed limbs rose up all around him. But they offered no hope of shelter; he already knew that if he tried to climb one it would crumble into ash. There was already a thick layer of it under his feet, slowing him just a little bit with each step he took.
The monster, apparently, had no such difficulties.
He didn’t have a weapon, and there was nothing around him with which he could defend himself. The trees didn’t leave anything behind but ash, and there were no stones, nothing he could pick up to try to hold off his pursuer. All he could do was keep running.
And then the forest ended, and a sharp cliff of crumbling stone rose up ahead of him. The cliff curved inward to his left and right, as if it had been set here as a trap, to pen him in.
As he looked around for a possible route of escape he saw the monster.
It had slowed down, confident now that its prey was trapped. It was a horrid combination of creatures. It had the furry, muscled body of a bear, down to the sharp curving claws that left gashes in the ashen soil with each step. But its head was insectoid, with huge multi-faced eyes and snapping mandibles that framed a mouth that dripped terrible acidic goo. It had a long snout that terminated in a point that stirred a memory, a hint that something wasn’t quite right.
But he didn’t get a chance to think it over as the monstrosity charged at him.
He ran toward the cliff, hoping against hope that he could climb it. But even as he placed his hands on the rock they crumbled at his touch, and he slumped back down. The rest of the cliff remained unflinchingly solid, offering no escape.
He turned around, his eyes wide, his mouth opening to scream. But before the sound could escape him he felt the bug-bear’s long proboscis plunging into his belly, deeper and deeper…
* * *
Bredan’s eyes flashed open as pain jolted through his stomach. He reached down to grasp at the shaft he’d felt impaling him, but there was nothing there, just his coat and the layer of armor underneath it. Even as his addled brain took that in the pain faded and he sucked in a deep breath. Looking up, he saw that Kosk was standing over him, his staff in his hand.
“You fell asleep,” the dwarf said. His voice was like the iron that covered the ends of his staff, hard and unyielding.
Bredan blinked and looked around. The camp was as he remembered it from the night before, when Quellan had woken him to stand his watch. The others were just stirring from their bedrolls. It was morning, though early enough that the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance above the horizon.
Morning.
His watch.
He’d fallen asleep.
“Sorry…” he mumbled as he started to get up. But Kosk’s staff flashed out, intercepting him. Bredan flinched, but the end stopped just short of impact, instead just pushing lightly into his chest.
“Sorry?” the dwarf asked. “You fell asleep on watch. It’s only blind luck that we weren’t all killed while you took your rest. Or have you forgotten the events of yesterday?”
“I said I was sorry,” Bredan said. That was as much to Glori and Quellan as to the dwarf, as the others had roused themselves enough to follow the exchange. Glori tugged her blanket around her body to ward off the morning chill.
“Sorry won’t keep you alive out here,” the dwarf said with disgust. He pulled down his staff and started to walk away.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one that set a pace that left us all worn down and exhausted,” Bredan said. “I made a mistake, and I own that, but damn it, we’re not made of iron.”
The dwarf turned back slowly, and from the look in his eyes there was a battle brewing there, but Quellan quickly intervened, stepping between them. Kosk said, “You’d be better off letting us clear this up once and for all, lad. This boy needs some sense pounded into him.”
“Fine with me,” Bredan snarled back. “I’m not a rock, I’ll fight back.”
“While I admit that I would take a certain pleasure in watching you two beat the living crap out of each other, this is neither the time nor the place,” Quellan said. “We have a lot more to do today than…”
He trailed off as soft music filled the clearing. The three men turned to see Glori sitting on the stones at the edge of their camp, her lyre cradled in her lap. The bard continued her playing, her fingers dancing over the strings of the instrument, her plectrum plucking out the notes. The melody started slowly, soft and almost sad, but it quickly built in pace and intensity. She added a martial tone, evocative of soldiers preparing themselves for battle. That passage transitioned into a march, the sharp notes sounding like the endless trudging of booted feet over a long road. But under that cadence something else was growing, a buildup of energy toward an inevitable confrontation. Just when it seemed that the song would erupt in a clash of arms the melody shifted once more, returning the long plaintive sounds of calm and peace with which she had started. The sense of loss that had been present then was now almost palpable, the notes full of regret and sadness.
When she finally finished the three men just stood there watching her. Bredan had heard her place that piece of music before; she’d called it “Alephron’s Regret.” But here, on a dim morning in the middle of nowhere, it had sounded completely different than it had when played in the background of a busy tavern. For a moment he’d thought he was actually there, marching along with Alephron and his armies to the final confrontation with the Dead King.
From the looks on their faces their other companions had been likewise affected. Quellan’s eyes glistened with a bright sheen. “That was…” the cleric began, but he couldn’t finish the thought.
Glori tucked her pick into one of the high pockets of her coat, then took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh before hopping suddenly to her feet.
“All right, who’s ready to start the day?” she said.
The sun had risen when they finally set out, though it remained hidden behind low clouds that promised another gloomy day. They deliberately avoided the old woman’s camp, but they had no difficulty finding the trail that led up to the cleft in the side of the bluff. The ascent was steep but manageable. They encountered a few places where loose rocks made the climb treacherous, but Kosk’s adage about the usefulness of rope proved true and they were able to manage that portion of the route without anything more serious than a few skinned knees.
Once they actually made it into the cleft the trail leveled out some, which was helpful given that the weak sunlight all but disappeared. As they passed out of the light into the narrow interior of the cleft Bredan felt a moment of panic; the shadowed shaft reminded him vividly of the dark landscape of his dream. But after a moment that premonition eased, and once his eyes adjusted he could see enough to make his way forward.
Glori paused, perhaps sensing that something was wrong. Looking back, she asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Though I’m finding myself envious of your eyes.”
She smiled. “We could light torches…”
“No, I’m fine for now. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.”
“You lovebirds coming?” Kosk’s voice drifted down from above. It had been perhaps too much to hope that the dwarf might have eased his hurried pace a bit now that they were creeping up the side of a mountain toward who knows what, Bredan thought.
The two hurried to catch up but found that their companions were waiting for them not far ahead. Just beyond them the cleft narrowed until the two sides came together in an abrupt stop. Above them the cleft extended for another hundred feet to the summit of the bluff, but one look at the sheer cliffs was enough to dissuade them from any interest in that direction.
But there was no need to climb; their destination was just ahead.
At the spot where the facing cliffs met there was a dark opening that led into the interior of the bluff. It was definitely man-made; Bredan could just make out the outline of roughly-hewn steps that led up to it, and it was framed by massive lintel stones that were too smooth and regular to be a natural feature. He wondered at the effort that would have been required to build this place, so far isolated from any outpost of civilization. Or had it been magic that had done this, magic of the sort that had brought them here in the first place?
He was so intent on his musing that he didn’t hear what Kosk had said. “What?” Bredan asked. He turned to see that the dwarf—and the others—were unslinging their packs.
The monk shot him a look, but he thankfully didn’t comment on his woolgathering. “I said, leave your packs and all your heavy gear. Bedrolls, extra clothes, pots and pans, any food that’s not ready-to-eat.”
Bredan looked up and down the length of the cleft. There were plenty of places where a pack or a few loose articles might be stashed, but between the four of them… “But what if someone steals our stuff?” he asked.
“If you get caught in a trap or can’t maneuver in a fight, you’ll have a much bigger problem,” Kosk said.
“We’ll bring plenty of torches, so you can see,” Quellan said. “And if it comes to it, I can summon light with my magic.”
Bredan carefully unslung his pack and found a spot for it in the rocks where it might not be immediately visible to someone coming by. He had to admit that he’d gotten rather attached to Kesren’s creation, even though it was a relief to get its weight off his back. He reached inside and took out a few canvas-wrapped torches that he tucked into his belt.
He hesitated over the crossbow. He had no idea what they would find beyond that dark opening, but he had a pretty good idea that it would involve close quarters. On the other hand, too close and he wouldn’t have room to use his sword. Finally he took the bow and the case of bolts; he could always leave them somewhere if they proved too cumbersome and pick them up on the way out.
He paused again when he came upon his set of tools. Obviously they wouldn’t be doing any smithing here, but he could think of a lot of other situations where the various metalworking instruments could come in handy. And they were easily contained in the leather wrap that his uncle had given him, which came with its own carrying strap.
He glanced up and saw that the others were all not only ready, but they were all watching him. He flushed and quickly slung the leather wrap across his opposite shoulder where it wouldn’t interfere with his baldric. “Ready,” he said.
“Shouldn’t you load that thing?” Quellan asked, indicating the crossbow.
“No,” Bredan and Kosk said simultaneously. When Kosk just growled Bredan quickly added, “A small draw-operated bow like this, it can’t take the long-term strain on the string and arms that a heavier winch-operated bow can. Keeping it drawn too long will damage both the strength and accuracy of the weapon.”
“Well, you’re the expert,” the half-orc said. He took out a torch and a piece of flint, and with a few strikes on the flanges of his mace got the pitch head burning. He picked up his shield and led the way toward the dark opening, with Kosk just behind him. Glori and Bredan followed close behind.
The dark opening seemed to drink up the light of the torch, revealing its secrets only reluctantly. They saw a passage that curved to the left before straightening for as far as the light extended. The walls and ceiling were stone worked smooth, and there were only a few scattered bits of rock in the entry before the route forward cleared.
The cleric stepped forward warily, shining the torch around before proceeding. Kosk gave the stone blocks to each side a good look, tapping them with his staff.
“Do you really think there will be a trap right at the entrance?” Glori asked.
Kosk growled something unintelligible, and Quellan explained, “I think we’re better off assuming that everything’s a trap until proven otherwise.”
Bredan remained a few steps back so that he wouldn’t get in the others’ way. But as he waited he detected something, a sharp scent of something burning that at first he blamed on the cleric’s torch. But the scent deepened, adding a sulphurous tinge that he recognized from the forge—that smell was a sign of bad coal that wasn’t going to be good for heating metal. He had no idea what it meant here, but he instinctively knew that it wasn’t good.
Looking around, he saw something that he’d missed initially. To the left of the entrance, partially hidden behind the mass of the stone that framed the opening, there was a small crevice in the rock, extending under the lintel. The smell seemed to be coming from that crevice, and as he bent lower to take a closer look he saw that it actually went on for quite a ways, widening a bit beyond that initial gap.
“Um… guys…” he began.
Two red points suddenly materialized within the depths of the crevice, accompanied by a low growl.
“Guys!” Bredan warned. He stumbled back while reaching for the hook to cock the crossbow. “I think I found the guardian!”
The others turned quickly to look, but even as Quellan lowered the torch toward the crevice a mass of fur and claws and fury exploded out of the opening and attacked.