Once Around the Realms (single books)

by Brian Thomsen

  "Well, a bargain is a bargain for as long as it's a bond," the dwarf replied, resigned to the arrangement. "Just give me few minutes to get things ready, and well be off."

  "We're leaving today?" Passepout asked, shocked that things were moving so fast.

  "No time like the present," Grumby replied, continuing to fiddle with his preparations.

  "Kara-Tur, here we come," Volo stated with a sense of confident victory over the way things worked out.

  "But now?" Passepout persisted, having hoped for at least another night spent in the comforts of an inn.

  "As Captain Grumby said," Volo replied, "no time like the present."

  Volo then turned his attentions to the eager-to-work teenage urchin, who had been waiting silently and patiently within hailing distance.

  "Come here, boy," Volo hailed as he imagined a sea captain might address a cabin boy.

  "The name is Curtis, sir," said the lad, obviously taking offense at the boy moniker without wishing to seem insubordinate to his desired superior.

  "You say you have sailing experience?" the master traveler inquired.

  "Yes, sir," Curtis replied. "I interned with the Cormyrean Freesails for a while after leaving school. You see, I'm really the son of a Cormyrean nobleman. I've set out on my own to see the world before returning to university and then accepting my proper place in the family business. I know my way around a ship and would relish the opportunity of joining you on your journey."

  Volo sized up the youth. He was in good shape and told a good story. The master traveler could not help but remember a certain other young traveler, who may have lied about his roots years ago, before gaining the prestige and acclaim of a master traveler and gazetteer.

  Passepout joined the interviewer and interviewee, and popped in with a question.

  "You say you have sailing experience," inquired the thespian, throwing the lad a piece of rope.

  "Well, here then, tie me a sheepshank knot."

  In ten seconds flat, Curtis tossed the knotted rope back to the chubby thespian.

  Passepout just stared at the knot in his hands.

  "Is there something wrong?" Curtis asked.

  "No, my bo-, I mean, Curtis," Volo answered. "The knot you made is fine, not that Passepout would know a sheepshank from a box twist."

  Passepout pouted. "I never said I was an expert," the chubby thespian muttered. "I just asked him to tie me one. I wanted to see what it looked like, that's all."

  "Sure," said the master traveler, and then, turning back to the lad, added, "Welcome aboard."

  The master gazetteer and the teenage urchin shook hands, sealing the lad's appointment.

  Volo returned his attentions to Grumby. Behind him, he heard Passepout ask Curtis to tie the knot again, but this time slower.

  "So, Grumby," Volo pressed, "now that we're working together, what is the story of this ship? You really don't look the part of an archmage, if you know what I mean. No offense, of course."

  "None taken," the dwarf replied, still bustling with what appeared to be a large canvas bag. "But for that matter, now that I get a good look, you don't look like much of a smuggler, either. No offense."

  "None taken," the gazetteer replied.

  "Good," Grumby replied, taking a break from his prep work to smoke a bowl full of his pipe and tell the tale of the ship. "You see, she wasn't always my ship. She wasn't even originally called the Minnow. Originally she was christened the D. Niven, and she was the property of an archmage named Ffogg. Like yourself, he once planned on making a sky journey all around the world. Claimed he could do it in less than eighty days, too. You see he designed this ship himself, utilizing what he called a bag sail, that canvas thing over there, claiming that it would increase the speed and staying power of the ship's enchantment."

  "So what happened to him?" Volo inquired.

  "Just before he was going to take off, he was arrested for embezzlement. The world tour was just a scam to mask his getaway. As you may have heard, justice around here is rather swift when certain people set their minds to it, and there is nothing like the memory of someone's hand in your purse to set your mind to it."

  "I can well imagine."

  "So," the dwarf concluded, "he was swiftly and fairly dealt with."

  "Come again?" Volo queried.

  "Let's just say that he wasn't in any condition to lay claim to the ship that was waiting for him in the harbor at Halarahh, a ship that someone had- how shall I say? — accidentally set adrift."

  "That's where you came in," Volo noted.

  "Exactly," the dwarf replied. "The law of the sea clearly states that an abandoned vessel is fair game for salvage. I just extrapolated that law to airships as well and moved her down here to Khaerbaal for a new paint job and a rechristening."

  With that, the dwarf finished his pipe and climbed aboard the Minnow, did a few last minutes of fiddling with the bag sail, and announced, "Okay, we're ready to go. Bag's in place, pantry filled. Climb aboard."

  The two travelers and their recently acquired "mate" Curtis climbed aboard in wonderment.

  "But," Passepout interjected, "shouldn't we be outside? I mean, we can't go very far inside this boathouse."

  "Observe," the churlish dwarf replied, with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

  Grumby manned the main wheel and pulled a lever that was attached to the two main masts. That set off a chain reaction that threw open the main hatch, centered on the deck between the two masts, and started to inflate the bag sail, which expanded and lifted the Minnow slowly off the ground. The roof of the boathouse collapsed backward, folding over the sides of the external walls by means of huge hidden hinges, and the airship rose up into the air, unfettered any longer by the boathouse's confines.

  Grumby chuckled at the openmouthed amazement of his passengers. "Kinda neat, huh? I rigged the boathouse myself. Feel free to explore the ship. I'll be busy until we get out of Khaerbaal airspace, but by then we'll be smooth sailing. Don't mind the scorch marks on her bow. She had a slight altercation with a red dragon on the way down here. Didn't do much damage. Only lost two crewman. Oh, well, easy come, easy go."

  And with that the dwarf began to sing an old sea chantey about seven castaways, from which Volo, Passepout, and Curtis quickly sought relief in the confines of their cabin.

  On the main deck of the airship, in addition to the two masts and the centralized hatch, were two cabins, one at the fore and one at the aft. The aromatic delights of Grumby dictated that he have the fore cabin, closest to the ship's wheel, for himself, while Volo, Passepout, and Curtis shared the aft one.

  The legendary walls of Halruaa, which succeeded in boxing in the nation with mountains, dictated that their course bear due south first, out over the Bay of Taertal, before turning eastward toward Dambrath and beyond. Grumby was reluctant to give up the helm to anyone else but appeared confident in his own navigational skills, and this confidence soon infected the rest of the ship's crew, who gradually settled into a routine. Curtis, indeed, did know his way around a ship and was a great help in keeping the riggings straight and the bag sail unfouled. True to the cleric's word, Passepout avoided any bouts with airsickness, but he was plagued with vertigo any time he thought to look overboard. He also vigorously complained of the cold, a condition exacerbated by the wind whipping around the deck. Volo, for his part, contented himself with taking in the scenery below and reminding the chubby thespian to cast over the necromancer's gems at the appropriate locations.

  "This is boring," said the disgruntled thespian, having lost count of the amount of gems that he had dropped since they had left Suzail.

  "That's only because you have been unwilling to enjoy the sights. There are numerous citizens of Faerun who would give their right arm for the aerial view that we have been enjoying these past few days… at least those of us who are willing to enjoy the view."

  Passepout blushed. "I can't help it if I'm scared of heights," he answered. "Maybe I'll try again when we come t
o that place with the flying fish."

  "You mean the Bay of Dancing Dolphins," Volo corrected, then paused. "Now that you mention it, we should have passed it by now."

  "We're going the wrong way for that," Curtis answered, joining the two travelers at the rail.

  "Oh, really?" Passepout skeptically retorted.

  "Sure," the lad replied. "We're heading northwest."

  Volo panicked. "Where is the sun?" he demanded.

  "There." Passepout pointed.

  "No!" responded Volo in a fit of anger. "Grumby! Get down here!"

  The dwarf swung down from his place at the helm to join the group at the rail. "What do you want?" he growled.

  "We're off course!" Volo screamed.

  "Says who?"

  "The kid," Passepout replied.

  "He's mistaken," the dwarf countered.

  "No, he's not!" Volo contradicted. "We're heading west."

  "No, we're not," the dwarf maintained. "If we were heading west, we'd be over Chult by now."

  "What's Chult?" Passepout inquired.

  "It's a land of jungles on the western edge of the Shining South, believed to be inhabited by giant thunder lizards," replied Curtis, further fueling Passepout's conception of him as a know-it-all brat.

  Volo looked overboard for a moment and then re-focused his attention on the aromatic dwarf. "Chult is bordered on the west and the south by low, mountainous hills and lakes, and on the southeast, the direction from which we would be coming if I am correct, by savannahs," the master traveler stated.

  "Savannahs?" the dwarf queried. "What are savannahs?"

  "Grasslands," Volo replied. He gestured over the side, "like those."

  "Oh," replied the dwarf, once again scratching his rat's nest of a beard. "I guess this isn't a good time to bring up a few things."

  "Like what?" Volo demanded, barely holding his anger in check.

  "Like we're heading toward that volcano over there, and, uh… "

  "Spit it out!" the master traveler screamed.

  "… and, uh, we seem to be losing altitude."

  "You mean…" Passepout pressed.

  "Yup," the dwarf replied. "We're going down."

  Chapter 12

  Chult or Passepout Becomes a Master of Hot Air

  The Minnow continued its gradual trip downward toward the slope of the volcano they were approaching. Though the ship was falling at a reasonably safe speed, all crew members had immediately switched to emergency stations. Curtis took control of the wheel, trying to steer the ship toward a plateau that seemed to jut from the side of the volcanic mountain, while Volo alternated between throttling Grumby and trying to control Passepout, who was in an advanced stage of panic.

  "We're all going to die!" screamed the chubby thespian. "Man was not meant to fly!"

  "Shut up, you coward!" screamed the dwarf, barely managing to remain out of arm's distance of Volo

  "Calm down, son of Idle and Catinflas!" Volo ordered, sternly yet calmly, then, switching to a tone of total belligerence, turned to Grumby and screamed, "If we get out of here alive, I'm going to beat you within an iota of your smelly hide!"

  "Promises, promises," the dwarf retorted.

  The airship's passengers could feel the hot and humid air wafting up from the jungle below.

  Curtis yelled back to Volo from the helm, "We're still going down!"

  "Why are we losing altitude?" Volo demanded of the dwarf.

  "Well, I guess the rod that causes the ship to levitate might have lost its charge," the dwarf replied, again scratching his beard.

  "You guess?" the enraged Volo retorted.

  "We're all going to die!" the chubby thespian repeated.

  "I'll try to bring us in for as smooth a landing as possible," Curtis called back as he tried to maintain control of the helm.

  "I guess we'll just have to walk home from here," the dwarf taunted, enjoying the prospect of mixing it up with Volo, as only a dwarf could really enjoy a fight.

  "Why, you…," Volo replied.

  "We're all going to die!" Passepout reiterated.

  "Land ho!" Curtis announced.

  Thud!

  All of the ship's passengers were thrown off their feet as the ship came to rest on the very edge of the volcanic plateau. Curtis had barely managed to steer the ship away from the uneven surface of the mountainside, which no doubt would have smashed the ship to bits.

  "Safe at last!" Passepout announced, jumping to a conclusion that would soon prove to be erroneous.

  Kwaaaahk! An unearthly scream pierced the humid mists of the mountainside.

  "What was that?" cried the thespian, ready to resume panicking.

  "Sounds like a pteradon," Volo replied, "one of the thunder lizards."

  Kwaaaahk! The scream was repeated, its owner still obscured by the humid mists.

  "Sounds awful," the thespian cried.

  "I think they are herbivores," Volo answered.

  "Come again?" Grumby queried.

  "Noncarnivorous, plant eaters," the master traveler explained.

  "Wonderful," Passepout replied.

  Curtis swung down from the helm to join the other passengers of the now-landed airship. "Sorry for the rough ride," he apologized.

  "I could have brought us down safely," Grumby grumbled, "if any one would have let me."

  "The way you knew how to navigate this ship?" Volo replied.

  "So I made a wrong turn," the dwarf muttered.

  Volo realized that to act on his anger would be futile and would only succeed in wasting precious minutes that could be applied to solving their current predicament. They could not afford to remain precariously balanced on the mountainside, nor could they really walk home as Grumby had laughingly suggested. And even if his memory was right, and pteradons were vegetarians, he was more than aware that many of Chult's inhabitants weren't.

  "We have to come up with a plan to get out of here," Volo announced.

  "You have a keen grasp of the obvious," Grumby retorted. "I guess that's why you're a big-shot author, or so you say."

  "Quiet!" Volo ordered, taking command of the ship away from the incompetent dwarf. The master traveler paused for a moment to survey their position and the condition of the ship. It was hot and humid the bug-infested jungle that surrounded their mountainside clearing hardly made for a comfortable resting place.

  "Curtis," he ordered, "check out the condition of the ship, masts, sail bags, levitation rod, etc."

  "Aye, aye, Captain," replied the youth, tossing a mock salute before he scurried back to the helm.

  "Passepout, check out the ship's stores. If Grumby lied about his ability to navigate, we can't assume that he didn't lie about the extent of our provisions."

  "Yes, Mister Volo, but do you mind if I grab a bit of lunch as I take inventory?" the thespian answered, once again aware of the rumbling in his stomach. "Crash landings always give me an appetite."

  "Later," Volo ordered. "And also let me know what nonfood supplies we have below."

  "Aye, aye, sir," Passepout replied half-heartily, his own groans over not eating joining the involuntary chorus of rumbles from his stomach as he went below to follow orders.

  "Now you," said Volo, trying to retain control of his temper as he addressed the dwarf, "what do you really know about how this ship works?"

  "Just what I told you," the dwarf grumbled. "No more, no less."

  The two adversaries just stared at each other until they were rejoined by Curtis and Passepout.

  "The masts, helm, and sailbag seem to be intact," Curtis reported, "but the levitation rod seems to have split a hole in the bottom of the hull. Good thing we weren't over water when we started to drop. She would have sunk for sure."

  "Who cares?" the dwarf chided. "I can swim."

  "Probably the way you can navigate," Passepout replied, trying to mask a mouth full of food. "Our provisions should do us for about a week and a half"

  "There's at least four months' worth down
there!" Grumby argued.

  "Maybe for you," Passepout replied with a burp. "There are also several casks of glue and paint."

  "All part of giving the Minnow a face-lift," the dwarf volunteered.

  "Well," Volo observed, "whatever let out that screech seems to have gone away, so I guess we are safe for the time being."

  Rumble. Rumble.

  "Excuse me," Passepout apologized.

  "I'm afraid that wasn't your stomach," Volo corrected. "I think it was the volcano."

  Rumble. Rumble.

  "She's going to erupt!" Grumby screamed.

  "We're all going to die!" Passepout chimed in.

  "Not just yet," Volo countered. "Curtis, ever take any geology classes?"

  "No, sir," the lad replied sheepishly.

  "I thought not," Volo said, confident that he had indeed seen through the story of the lad's education, "but I did, and before a volcano blows, there are numerous rumblings and other geological manifestations that may never culminate in an actual eruption."

  "Geological manifestations?" Passepout queried.

  A hot-air geyser sprang up from the rock of the plateau beneath the ship, fortunately escaping through the existing rupture in the hull.

  "Like that," Volo replied. "Lucky for us there was the break in the hull, or the sheer force of the hot air escaping from the ground could have lifted us up and over the side of the plateau, or at least unseated us from this fairly firm base."

  Passepout became extremely excited, but couldn't quite get his explanation out. "Look!" he finally screamed.

  All eyes turned to him.

  "Not at me," he cried. "At the sail!"

  The other passengers of the Minnow turned around to behold the object of the thespian's excitement.

  The geyser's hot air was inflating the sailbag, which was beginning to lift the ship.

  "Quickly!" Volo ordered. "Throw down a hook to keep us in place!"

  "Aye, aye," said Grumby. He released a lever that activated the lowering of anchorlike grapples to the ground below. "That was a close call, we would have gone over the side for sure."

  Passepout looked at the inflating sailbag and had an idea.