Brian Murphy - The Search For Magic

Finderkeeper fidgeted a bit in the ensuing silence. “I would be happy to share some of the provisions I have with me if, in the morning, you could point me in the direction of a good passage to Ice Mountain Bay. I understand that there might be a trail along the shore that I can take… er… away from this place.”

“Provisions or no, the knowledge is yours for the asking. We-all of us-appreciate the hospitality.”

“All the same,” gruffed Bodar, “mind your possessions Garn. Once something finds its way into a kender’s hands, ‘tis seldom seen again.”

The cold hardtack and jerky that the kender had tucked into one of his pouches long ago were surprisingly well received by the Ice Nomads. Finderkeeper found a ready listener to his tales of adventure in Garn and soon after they had eaten, all were fast asleep.

The nights are short in Icewall in the summer, however, and Finderkeeper was distraught to realize that it was fully light when he awoke. He hastily gathered up his meager belongings and was approaching Thrak for directions when he heard a cry from Bodar, high on the rocky cliff above him. “Warriors! On the ice. Three of them.”

Thrak jumped onto a nearby tumble of rocks and looked in the direction that Bodar pointed. Garn joined him. The Knights had seen the Ice Nomads and were headed toward them.

“I, perhaps, should have mentioned that my haste to leave this lovely land was motivated by the compelling circumstance that these Knights, which Bodar has so cleverly located are, erp, well, they are seeking to murder me and take my possessions, which could he interesting… heing murdered, I mean, not having my possessions taken-that’s happened hefore. Somehow, being murdered sounds exciting but vaguely unpleasant and terribly permanent, so if you don’t mind I will just be heading on my way. If you could kindly point me on my way to Ice Mountain Bay, I will thank you very kindly for your gracious hospitality. I am very sorry for any trouble I have caused.”

“Did you steal from them, little one?”

“I, Finderkeeper Rumplton, am not a crook! These… these… ruffians are seeking to seize a valuable artifact legitimately mined from the ice of this very glacier. I dug it out of the ice with these very fingers!” exclaimed the kender, holding out his bruised and scratched hands. “Hmmm. I wonder where that nail-clipper I got from that gnomish merchant is?”

Garn stepped up close to Thrak. “If you are truly on the run from bandits, whatever uniform they wear, honor demands that we protect you. Right, father?”

“You have learned well, son.” Thrak looked at the armor and weapons of the well-equipped and muscular Knights. “But, perhaps, we could negotiate a purchase of your item for your pursuers.” He stood and signaled the Knights that he wished to parley.

Commander Hasterck was even more cranky today than yesterday, if that were possible. A cold night hunkered down on a slab of ice will do that to a warrior. The fact that his armor was as frigid as the glacier beneath him did not help. The fact that he had to traverse gaping chasms in the ice and that his leather boots slipped and slid on the wet sheen of the glacier as the sun rose did not help either. Finding that the elusive kender had found refuge with the natives of this accursed iceland really set him off.

“Zeke, Dirk,” Hasterck growled, “take no prisoners.”

“And the hunters become the hunted,” mumbled Thrak. “They do not seem inclined to talk. Garn, Bodar. Over the ridge as quick as you can.”

Bodar grumbled something about meeting their foes in noble battle, but deferred to Thrak’s judgment to make a run for it. After all, Garn was too young to hold his own in a fight, and a father had to protect his son. Finderkeeper started to apologize for all the trouble he was causing them, but Thrak turned and headed up the ridge. “Hurry. Dragon’s Throat is our only chance.” Finderkeeper’s apologies died on his somewhat bluish lips. “Dragon’s Throat? Sounds interesting, but is that really the most advisable co- Yipe!” Bodar, muttering to himself about how he liked Knights of Neraka even less than kender, snatched his topknot yet again to set him on his way. Looking down the rock-strewn mountain-side at the pursuing Knights and back up at his potential saviors, Finderkeeper decided that the odds were considerably better if he kept up with the Ice Nomads’ trek over the mountain pass that they kept belittling by calling a ridge. Besides, the Ice Nomads might have something interesting in their pouches to trade. The Knights, on the other hand, did not look inclined to bargain. Yessiree, the Ice Nomads were the best bet in his current ignoble situation.

Moving westward up the steep, granite slope, Find-erkeeper could see that the ridge was the dwindling spine of a considerable upthrust of mountainous terrain to the south from which glaciers spilled to either side.

At midday, they reached the crest of the ridge. To the west was a green valley littered with boulders and clear, round pockets of water. A stream meandered along the surprisingly flat valley floor. Apparently the glacier that Finderkeeper could barely make out far to the south had once reached this far down the valley and had gouged the terrain flat between two spiny mountain ridges. Ice Mountain Bay glittered beyond the next ridge. Finderkeeper searched the sky and the rocky crags for dragons, nesting or flying, but found none. Instead hundreds of terns wheeled in the sky and roosted in holes along the cliff-face.

The way down was quicker than the way up. Following the lead of Thrak and Garn before him, Finder-keeper leaped zigzaggedly from side to side of the goat path, letting gravity do the work, while the loose shale and gravel absorbed some of the speed and allowed him to control his descent. It was tiring all the same and the spongy valley floor was a welcome relief from the sharp corners and loose shale of the descent. The kender expected a mad dash across the valley floor, then another arduous climb over the next ridge separating them from Ice Mountain Bay. Instead, Thrak turned southward, up the valley toward the distant Icewall.

Perhaps, the kender thought, reinforcements live in this lovely valley. Thrak said nothing, but trudged onward. Garn looked about with interest at the surroundings. It became clear to Finderkeeper that the boy had never been here before. So much for reinforcements.

Finderkeeper ran to catch up with Thrak and pulled on his goafs-wool tunic. “Excuse me, D’Nar, but they’ll catch us eventually on flat ground.” Already he could see the Knights of Neraka scrambling down the slope behind them-fortunately not as expertly or quickly as the Ice Nomads and the kender had done.

Thrak did not turn his gaze from the wall of ice far ahead. He looked only at it and at the stream gurgling along on the valley floor. “They won’t catch us before we reach the ice. That’s not what I am afraid of,” stated Thrak. “Garn. You be ready. If I say ‘Go’, you run as fast as you can to the near cliffs and climb as fast and as high as you can. Don’t wait for anything, you understand, boy? Not me, not Bodar, and not the kender. And don’t stop climbing, no matter what. You, Rumplton, do the same. Not that it is likely to help, not with your short legs.” With that, Thrak picked up the pace and Finder-keeper trudged along, too breathless to ask more questions. It was a peaceable valley. What was all the worry?

As they got closer to the wall of ice at the head of the valley, Finderkeeper began to hear rumbles from far ahead, like an approaching thunderstorm. But no cloud appeared in the sky. A particularly sharp crack caused Thrak to stop for a moment and stare. Bodar collided with the back of Finderkeeper as the kender also paused. “I don’t understand,” stammered the kender to his topknot tormenter. “Is it going to storm?”