“Not sure how we’re going to kill it,” Scar said, coming up behind him.
“Then let’s just get out of here.”
Scar nodded. “I’m with you there.”
Hopping over the channel of filth, they raced for the rungs leading up.
Seconds only they had before the beast recovered and again shot forward in pursuit.
Scar was the first to reach the rungs and had started up when Potbelly yelled, “Jump for it.” He turned and saw the massive maw coming for him. Leaping off to the side, he hit the ground and rolled as the beast slammed into the wall where he had been but a moment before.
Potbelly came up behind it and with both hands on the hilt, used all his strength in bringing his sword down in an overhand hack. There was a “ping” when the blade hit the creature’s outer, chitinous covering. It slid to the side barely leaving a scratch in its wake.
Its covering was comprised of overlapping layers of pliable scales that were hard as steel.
As Scar got to his feet and ran, the creature set after in fast pursuit.
“Run!” Potbelly shouted.
Scar sprinted with both swords in hand. The creature shot forward in an unexpected burst of speed for one so large. Its teeth reached for the fleeing man. At the last second, Scar darted to the right and as the creature passed, sliced into its mouth. He managed to slice some of the inner flesh as well as break off a small chip from a tooth. He hit the wall off-balanced and fell. One sword clattered away when he lost his grip on it; the other remained in hand.
The creature instantly spun about again, paused a moment to get its traction on the sewer floor, then shot forward with a vengeance.
“Get up!” Potbelly shouted as he raced forward to save his friend. But he was too late.
Scar had gotten to one knee just before the creature’s maw snapped shut. When it spun to attack Potbelly, Scar was no longer there.
“Damn the gods,” he cried and raced forward in rage.
The creature came at him and then spasmed. It reared up and in a fit of curling, thrashing and twisting, slammed into the roof of the sewer and the sides.
Potbelly leapt forward and scored on another eye but not before the creature’s thrashing knocked him several feet back and landed him on his butt.
It arched its back and slammed its head into the ceiling before crashing to the floor. Moving slower, it thrashed a few more times then grew still.
Potbelly approached cautiously thinking this maybe a trick. But then ten feet back from the maw, a sword blade thrust out between two layers of the creature’s protective covering. Then a hand followed.
“Scar!” he hollered as he leapt upon the creature’s back. Potbelly then pulled back the top layer of overlapping scales and used his knife to widen the hole.
“Gah!” Scar exclaimed as his head broke free. Covered in the beast’s inner juices, he climbed out.
“Man,” Potbelly said as he wrinkled his nose, “you smell bad.”
“Smell bad?” Scar exclaimed. “Smell bad? I killed the demon cursed thing.”
Potbelly chuckled. “So you did.” He lent Scar a hand and they clambered down from the creature. “I was afraid I had lost you.”
Laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he saw Potbelly’s worry. “So did I.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Now to kill that old man.”
They returned to the narrow passage down which the old man had fled. There they found him with lit torch in hand. Grinning, he said, “I knew you two would pull that off.”
“Open the gate so we can kill you,” Scar said.
Old Man held up his hands. “Now, hold on boys. There is no reason to take that attitude.”
“No reason?” Scar yelled. “How about bringing us down here to get us killed. Think that would be a good reason?”
Goo dripped off Scar and began to pool on the floor. The odor wafting from him nearly made Potbelly gag.
“If you promise not to kill me,” Old Man said, “I’ll give you an even share of the treasure.”
Anger fading slightly, Scar asked, “Treasure?”
Old Man nodded. “That is what it was guarding. There is a room beyond where the creature appeared that holds the bulk of Garrock’s accumulated loot.”
Potbelly sensed that his friend’s interest had been piqued. But would it be enough to stay his hand.
“What kind of treasure?” Scar said.
The old man paused a moment before saying, “That I don’t know exactly.”
Ire built up in Scar again. “You risked our lives and don’t even know what there is to gain?”
“Promise you won’t kill me and we’ll go see.” He searched first Scar’s eyes then Potbelly’s. Could see leniency in Potbelly’s but Scar’s was hard as ice. “You can take whatever you like and I’ll settle for what you leave.”
“That sounds good,” Potbelly advised. When Scar didn’t reply, he added, “You can always kill him after we get there.”
Scar glanced to Potbelly. “So be it.” Then to Old Man, “If you are lying, you die.”
“Fair enough.”
Old Man grinned, produced a key and unlocked the door. “You won’t regret this.”
As the door swung open, Scar mumbled, “I already have.”
Leading the way, Old Man returned to the main sewer tunnel and then turned in the direction from which the worm had come. Down a way, a large tunnel broke off from the main; he entered.
“It’s down here,” he said quietly.
Fifty feet later the tunnel opened up to a large area. Bones and bits of chitinous armor of the worm lay strewn all about.
“The beast’s lair I’d wager.”
Old Man glanced over his shoulder to Potbelly and nodded. Then he pointed off to a doorway to the right. “Through there.”
Scar strode forward. “Keep an eye on him.”
Drawing his dagger, Potbelly replied, “Will do.” Taking hold of the old man’s shirt, he drew him closer and held the knife to his chest.
The door wasn’t locked, a simple wooden crossbeam held it in place. Scar raised the crossbeam and set it aside, then opened the door.
“Bring the torch,” he said.
Potbelly brought the old man and his torch closer to the doorway.
It was a small room, barely fifteen by twenty with a low ceiling. Four chests sat against the far wall and a table was set along the left wall. Gold coins and jewels glittered from where they laid piled upon the tabletop.
“Ah,” Old Man said, “did I not tell you?”
Scar grinned back to Potbelly and motioned for him to return his blade to its sheath.
“Okay, we won’t kill you,” Scar said, then motioned for the old man to remain where he was. “You just stay there until we are through.”
“Gladly.”
The two friends entered the room.
“We need to find items of little weight yet worth much,” advised Potbelly. “Still have a ways to go before we return home.”
“Agreed,” Scar said. Taking his coin purse, he emptied out the copper coins and few small gems it contained and filled it with a handful of gold coins and a large ruby, diamond, and a pair of sapphires that would choke a rooster.
“Let’s check the chests,” Potbelly said.
One was filled with fine clothes, another with ingots of silver and gold; none of which was worth taking.
The bottom two-thirds of the third chest was filled with large golden disks. Atop them sat a trio of boxes; from the odor emanating from two, they held finely ground herbs of some kind. The third held dried, aromatic leaves.
“Any idea what these are?”
Scar smelled each in turn then shook his head. “No, but they must be valuable. Better take them.”
Potbelly nodded. “They don’t weigh much.”
The fourth chest held a helmet, a breastplate, and a set of greaves, all of which were too small for either of them to wear.
“Those are why we are here.”
From the doorway, Old Man watched them.
Holding up the helm, Scar said, “These?”
He nodded. “They are my family’s heirlooms,” Old Man explained. “The cowardly thief snuck in one night when I was out a few years ago and stole them.” He produced a sack and came forward, taking the helm from Scar. “These were my great-grandfather’s.”
“They look like they are brand new,” observed Potbelly.
“A powerful sorceress put an enchantment upon them, or so the story goes.”
Scar slipped a few more gems in a pocket then said, “I think we’re ready.”
Potbelly nodded.
Old Man put the rest of the armor in the sack then added the rest of the coins and gems from the table.
“Okay,” he said. “The hatch you want isn’t far from here.”
Scar gestured for him to lead the way. “After you.”
Back in the main tunnel, he led them further down until coming to a set of rungs beside which was etched a trio of circles.
“This is yours,” he said.
“Will we be outside the walls?”
He shook his head. “None lead that far,” he explained. “But from here you will have only a short way to go to reach the gate.”
“Will it be guarded?” Potbelly asked.
“Likely, but don’t worry. Gareth should be on duty and if you slip him some coins he will let you through. His wife just gave birth to their fifth and he desperately needs the money.”
Potbelly eyed the bulging sack the old man carried. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” Old Man replied, “Once they find what you did to their guardian, they won’t even think to come looking for me. They know I could never do something like that.”
“We appreciate your help,” Potbelly said as Scar began to climb.
“You boys have done more for me than I deserve. May the gods find favor in what you do.”
“Best of luck,” Potbelly said. Once Scar had gone up a bit, he started up too.
“You too, boys,” Old Man said.
He stayed there at the bottom of the rungs until the hatch was opened, Scar and Potbelly passed through and it was closed again. “You’re going to need it.”
Whistling, he slung the sack over his shoulder and returned the way they had come.
-4-
They emerged behind a shop selling housewares and cutlery. Moving around the building, they came to a well. It took four buckets and some vigorous scrubbing to get the worst of the creature’s nastiness off him. He still reeked, but it wasn’t nearly so noticeable.
The gate stood less than a hundred feet away. The shop was at the edge of town; beyond it laid an open area all the way to the gate. But instead of the lone guard Old Man had said would be there, there were another five armed men keeping Gareth, if Gareth it was, company.
“Should’ve known not to trust that old man,” Scar groused.
“He may not have known they were there.”
Scar wasn’t swayed in his irritation at the old man.
“We’ll give it a few minutes and see if they leave,” Potbelly suggested.
One minute ticked by, then two and the five men remained at the gate. They gave no sign of departing anytime soon.
“We’re going to have to find another way.”
Potbelly nodded. “Could try the river.”
“That will take us back through town,” argued Scar. The look in his eye said he was ready to battle his way out and damn the consequences.
“Not all of it.”
“No, but enough that it would be unlikely for us to make it without detection.” Scar stared at the six men at the gate; his hands rested on the pommels of his swords.
Potbelly placed a hand on Scar’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “we can make it to the river.”
Scar wavered between throwing caution to the wind and following Potbelly’s plan.
Seeing his chance to avert conflict diminishing, Potbelly said, “Come on,” and headed for the river. Not giving Scar a chance to stop him, he didn’t look back until he had passed two houses and rounded the corner into an alley. He was quite relieved to find that Scar had followed him.
“We’ll make it.”
Scar nodded and together, they raced down the alley and at the end, paused to glance down one of Castin’s main thoroughfares. Men and women were about. Three pairs of men moved upon the street while not far from where Scar and Potbelly stood, another pair conversed with three women beneath an oil lamp hanging from a pole.
Across the street opened another alley.
“We have to cross,”’ Potbelly said.
Scar watched the pairs moving on the street, two were headed in their direction, neither were close. “If we go we better do it quick.”
“Okay. You cross first, then I will follow after.”
Without replying, Scar stepped out of the alley and headed straight for the other alley across the way. He strode purposely yet not so quick as to draw attention.
Potbelly watched the nearest pair of armed men, and though one glanced at Scar, didn’t give him a second look. Once Scar made it across without drawing attention, Potbelly stepped out. This time he gave his step a little bit of a stagger to mimic the onset of drunkenness.
He drew more attention as he crossed but was quickly dismissed. In the alley with Scar, he dropped the stagger and the pair raced to the far end. There they found the cross street nearly empty. Crossing together, they kept to the shadows until they reached the far side.
Another alley and then they were forced to follow one of the smaller avenues for a bit to reach a cross street that ran to the river.
Street by street they successfully navigated until the river finally came into view. There was a dock of sorts for small, personal craft jutting out on the water. It lay a hundred feet from where the water flowed through the gate.
Four men stood by the dock, by the looks of them they were naught but locals. The area by the river gate was too far away to determine if anyone was present.
“Let’s make this fast,” Scar said then made to angle so as to avoid the dock area and head for the river gate.
The gate at the river was twofold. One was in the river itself barring travel into the city on the water, the other was a small doorway on this bank that stood closed and most likely locked. An oil lamp bathed the area in light.
At first glance it looked as if the area was deserted, but when they drew closer, saw the guard standing out of the light near the water. It appeared as if he spoke with someone.
“He’ll have the key,” Scar said as he quietly drew his long sword.
Potbelly laid a hand on his arm. “It may not come to that.”
“We don’t have time to do this nice,” Scar argued. “We need to get to Tork, get the map, and get back to the ship before it departs in a couple hours.”
“Give me one minute.”
Pausing only a heartbeat, Scar nodded. “One minute.”
“Okay. You stay here.”
Potbelly kept to the shadows as he made his way to the guard.
“…by Midsummer’s Eve all will be ready,” the guard said quietly.
“But, my father…” the girl trailed off sadly.
“Curse your father,” he spat. “We love each other and by then I will have enough to take you out of this miserable town.”
Rather than knock unconscious, tie, gag and leave for the morning watch to find as he had originally planned, Potbelly decided to switch gears.
“Excuse me,” he said as he approached.
The guard stepped before the girl and rested his hand on his sword hilt. “State your name and business, friend.”
“My name is of no consequence,” Potbelly replied. “As for business, my friend and I need to pass through yonder gate.”
“No one may pass until dawn,” the guard said.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out one of the gems taken from the treasure room. He held it up so it glit
tered in the moonlight. “Would this change your mind?” When the guard looked to be ready to say no, Potbelly added a ruby. “Now?”
“Why do you need to leave?” he asked. His eyes never once left the gems.
“Let us just say that remaining in Castin would prove unhealthy for us.”
The guard’s gaze left the gems and fixed on Potbelly.
“You’re the two they’re looking for, aren’t you?”
The woman gasped when Scar emerged from the darkness with both swords drawn.
“Are you going to help us?” he asked. “Or do we need to insist?”
Licking his lips, he glanced to the woman, then to Potbelly, and then back to Scar. “I…,” he began then paused as he turned to the woman. “We could leave tonight with those gems.”
The woman asked Potbelly, “Are you truly bad men?”
Potbelly shook his head. “No. We only wish to meet a friend and leave.”
“Garrock is after them.”
She turned to the guard and gasped.
“If we help you he’ll kill us,” the guard said.
“Not if you leave tonight.”
Potbelly held out the gems.
The guard hesitated only a moment longer, then reached out and took them.
“Come,” he said as he removed a ring of keys and walked toward the gate.
“Do you know where Tork lives?” Potbelly asked.
Scar shot him a look of annoyance at telling the guard their destination.
Reaching the gate, the guard unlocked it and swung it open. He pointed off to the right. “Not far. Look for the dragon.”
“Dragon?”
The guard nodded. “Now hurry. Melinda and I have to leave.”
Potbelly shook the guard’s hand. “Best of luck to you.”
“Thank you. Now go!” He then took Melinda’s hand they hurried off together into the dark.
“You’re a fool.”
Potbelly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You gave away a fortune for nothing.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have it when I woke this morning and I doubt if I’ll miss it when I wake tomorrow. Besides, we still have plenty.”
Scar merely rolled his eyes.
They headed out in the direction indicated by the guard. A path soon developed and they followed it among the trees.
The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag Page 4
