James Lowder - The Ring of Winter

Artus held the torch up to the tunnel's low ceiling. With his dagger, he probed the packed earth. It looked promising. A few hours of hard work and he might be able to loosen some of the larger stones, perhaps even bring the walls down. The trick would be blocking the passage without burying himself, too.

"We could help, you know," Byrt offered brightly. "Wombats are constructed rather well for excavation. It's our lot in life, really-a burrow here, a furrow there."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Artus murmured.

The wombats had been following him for hours, though they had little choice in the matter. Grumog's tunnel had proved impassable, leading as it did to an underground lake. In silent frustration, Artus had returned to the pit and crawled through the hole Byrt had so helpfully widened during the battle. That was, after all, the only way left to explore.

Artus had done his best to keep the wombats at a distance. That proved simple with Lugg; the brown-furred creature trundled along, minding his own business. Byrt, however, was annoyingly curious and insufferably cheerful. He blurted out a constant stream of questions and inane comments. Still, Artus suspected a keen intelligence lurked behind those vague blue eyes.

"This isn't the place for bringing the house down, you know," Byrt offered, expression blank as ever. Artus, engrossed in studying the balance of stones in the wall, ignored him completely. The little wombat tugged on the explorer's boot. "I don't believe you heard me, old man. I said-"

"I heard you," Artus sighed. He leaned back against the cool stone wall. "Look, I don't have anything against you two, but I really don't want anyone tagging along with me. I have important things to do."

"As do we," Byrt said sincerely. "We need to find a way out of this jungle. You actually don't think we're locals, do you?"

Raising one eyebrow, Artus studied the gray-furred creature. With all the other strange things he'd encountered in Chult, he had, as Byrt suggested, simply dismissed the unique duo as yet another example of bizarre local fauna. "If you're not Chultan, what are you?"

Lugg opened his mouth to speak, but Byrt launched into a complicated tale of thievery and kidnapping on the high seas. The brown wombat shook his head and sat in the shadows, brooding.

"Where we're from, Lugg was a passable second-story man," Byrt began theatrically, "and I was a… well, let's just say I made my living as a jack-of-all-trades. A year ago a ship out of the City of Splendors found our island-a happy little place off Orlil, just prefect for wombats. Lugg was burying some loot on the beach when the captain of this pirate ship came ashore. Thinking Lugg would make a wonderful addition to Waterdeep's zoo, he grabbed the poor fellow. When I tried to rescue my comrade-as I am wont to do now and then, being the valiant sort-I was snatched, too."

Lugg snorted. "There you go, rambling on again. That's what got us into all this trouble, if you ask me. You don't know when to be quiet!"

The comments went unchallenged, and Byrt continued blithely on. "The ship was bound first for Refuge Bay, but by the time we sighted this dreadful place, the captain had decided to strand us. That dashed poor Lugg's hopes for a life in show business, and I had left off pining for home and rather looked forward to seeing a city larger than fifty wombats and the occasional odd platypus-though, to be perfectly blunt, I've never met a platypus who wasn't rather odd."

"Awright," the brown wombat grumbled, "that's enough of that. You want I should fill in the rest of the story? I could finish this yarn in ten words or less, I'll bet."

The vacant look fled Byrt's eyes for just an instant. Then he shrugged. "If you'd rather continue, Lugg, by all means do. Your storytelling is better than any sleeping draught, and I need a bit of a snooze. In fact, we could all use a good sleep, if we're to spend much more time in this dratted jungle…"

When Lugg sank back into the shadows, Byrt nodded his approval. "Thank you for that vote of confidence, old man. All money will be gladly refunded if we fail to please." Sidling up to Artus, he continued the tale. "Now listen, for this is where the story gets interesting, like the part of a mystery where the prime suspect is discovered head-down in a vat of malmsey." Byrt grinned, but failed to notice his audience did not share his amusement.

"As I was saying, about a year ago we were left here to sweat to death-or be eaten by a monstrous lizard, a pack of wild-eyed goblins, or whatever else took a fancy to us. We've also had our share of problems with the Batiri, by the way. We barely managed to escape being their catch of the day, served in a yam sauce with a side of leeks." He shuddered at the thought.

"For a year we've had no supplies and only our wits to rely upon for survival. I, of course, am managing just fine with those restrictions, but Lugg here is at a bit of a disadvantage. It's been a heroic struggle, of course, and so far we've remained unvanquished. However, I believe it's time we got out of the jungle and continued on our trek around the world. All this sight-seeing has made us unhappy with our island, and now we'd like to see what the rest of the world is like."

"Sorry," Artus said, "but I can't help you. I don't know when I'm leaving, and I can't take responsibility for your safety right now."

"But you got to leave this godsforsaken place sooner or later, right?" Lugg asked hopefully. For the first time, his somber mood lightened.

"I don't want- "

"Yes, Lugg," Byrt interrupted. "He doesn't want any companions just now, wombatlike or otherwise. It was really rude of you to presume so." He turned to Artus. "Let me make up for my muddle-headed friend's bad manners. I will do the digging and close off the tunnel between us and the goblins. Shan't take long, but we'd better move up the trail a ways. There's a perfect spot not too far along. I noticed it when we passed through earlier."

"Is the opening to the surface far from there?" the explorer asked suspiciously.

"Actually, yes, very far. It will be quite a toddle-a day or so, I should think-to the portal by which we entered this dismal path."

Artus pondered the alternatives for a moment, then said, "Fine. Let's get this over with."

If possible, Artus's concession made Byrt even more cheerful. The little gray wombat chattered incessantly as they trudged through the murky tunnel. Lugg, too, seemed heartened by the explorer's acceptance. He still walked with his head down, his eyes half-lidded, but there was a bit of a spring in his step that hadn't been there before.

Finally they came to a spot where the passage narrowed. The way was so restricted Artus had to extinguish the torch for fear of burning himself or filling the tight tunnel with smoke. Relying only on his dagger for light, he barely managed to squeeze into the gap on hands and knees. He had never been too keen on close places, but this stretch of tunnel made him border on panic. As he struggled along, the passage narrowed more and more, as if the earth itself were tightening a stony fist around him.

It seemed to take forever, but at last the passage began to widen again. Artus found he was sweating and even trembling a bit by the time the ceiling was high enough for him to sit up straight. "All right," he said, wiping his forehead, "now what?"

"Now you move down the tunnel a bit, and we see if we can burrow our way to victory," Byrt said glibly. "There is mostly packed earth up above. A few well-placed tunnels will probably finish closing off that narrow section."

Artus had his doubts, but did as the wombat asked. Even if Kaverin caught up with him now, this spot would be easy to defend since the goblins would have to climb through one at a time to get at him.