T Lain - Treachery's Wake

Beast and barbarian danced back and forth down the tiny hallway. The sound of Krusk’s booted footsteps was lost amidst the clacking of the monster’s legs on the wooden floor. Krusk was lost in a passionate rage of survival, his actions marked by instinct that rivaled that of the crab. Time and again he landed blows on the creature. The salty smell of sea water oozed from cracks and fissures in the crab’s outer skeleton. Bits of soft, pink meat hung from the holes. Still the beast came like a relentless automaton.

Mialee struck at the creature’s hind legs. She had little hope of causing any real injury, but her rapid assault forced the crab to skitter to keep its balance.

Finally, Krusk took off one of the claws with a mighty swing. That created an opening in the monster’s defense and allowed Krusk to shift his attacks toward the crab’s belly and the softer shell beneath its mouth, where another strike deep into the underside of the creature gave Krusk his victory.

The monster convulsed and crashed to the floor, its remaining legs crumpled and knotted beneath its bulk.

Krusk and Mialee both rushed to Malthooz’s side. Mialee grabbed his wrist and felt the weak beat of his heart through the artery there.

“He’s alive,” she said, dropping Malthooz’s limp arm, “and pretty damn lucky, I’d say.”

“His luck will run out at some point,” Krusk spat, “and I don’t want his death on my head.”

“Any one of us would have been caught off guard and felled by that blow. If you’re going to be so damn glib about his lack of skill, why don’t you check that ego of yours and teach him to fight?”

“He’ll never learn.”

“He won’t if you don’t give him the chance, you oaf!” someone else said.

They both turned and saw Lidda standing at the intersection of the hallway.

Krusk looked away, avoiding the rogue’s gaze. He knew that what the women said was true. He really did yearn to tell Malthooz more about himself and his life, but his own stubbornness always seemed to get in the way. He grabbed his unconscious companion under the arms and lifted him from the floor.

“I tried to help,” Lidda explained, “but by the time I made my way around the ship, the excitement was done and there was no way I was getting in behind that thing. I don’t know that I could have done much against that armor anyway.”

Krusk felt the heat of the battle flowing from his body, replaced by weariness. He was spent and would have to rest again before he did anything strenuous.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get out of here before something else tries to eat us.”

A hawk soared high above the bluff that rose from the eastern edge of the coast, wheeling on a warm blast of heated air radiating from the rocks below, using the thermal current to gain altitude. Wind rustled through the feathers of the creature’s broad wings, whispering slightly as it made its way over the tiny hairs at their tips.

The bird circled, taking in the general lay of the land. Its eyes pierced a shroud of fog, darting over the expanse of beach below. Figures moved across the sand. The creatures posed no threat to the hawk as far as she could tell. Nothing in the area did. Even the huge birds of prey that sometimes hunted there would leave her alone. She was too small to be of much interest to them.

As she wheeled higher into the air, the hawk watched a few of the humans pass into a dark mass they had been scurrying around, and another of them scaled its side. There was something about them that registered in her mind, triggering vague memories and a feeling of kinship and familiarity.

Vadania welcomed any excuse to take to wing. She lost herself in the thrill of flight and reveled in the pull of instinct, giving up a part of her rational mind for a more ancient kind of knowing. She did not entirely lose touch with who or what she was, but everything came to her through a different lens of understanding. She passed over the ship once and pulled up into a steep climb.

While she was probably the most suited of the party to pick up on any trails that were left behind, Vadania knew tracking was not her greatest skill. She could use her shapechanging abilities, heightened senses of sight or smell, or in this case flight, to great advantage. They did the druid little good, however, if she didn’t know what to look for aside from the most obvious indication of someone’s passing.

The beach yielded little information. Vadania expected this, given the play of the tides and the shifting nature of its fine sands. Waves would erase any evidence of passage within hours of their being left. The trail grew more promising, however, when she ascended the bluff.

Near its top, she spotted unmistakable signs that a group had recently been camped there. Evidence of multiple fire pits and charred chunks of deer or elk were strewn across the ground. Vadania felt her anger rising at the lack of respect shown the animals’ remains, even if they were just a meal. An equal lack of concern marked the trail of prints that ran from the site and into the scrub forest to the east. A blind gnome could have followed the trail. A sickly stench lingered on the breeze. She followed the trail for a little while, then turned back when it was apparent that whatever left it was at least a few days gone.

As she flew back out over the beach, Vadania saw that her companions were returning from the ship. She watched them setting a camp near the foot of the bluff, looking like insects from her height. Smoke drifted lazily from a small fire ring while she watched their tiny forms move about the scene. As the druid descended, she could make out each of her friends in clearer and clearer detail.

Krusk hunkered over the fire, tossing pieces of driftwood onto the sputtering flames. Lidda dug through her pack, probably looking for food. Mialee sat on the beach next to Malthooz’s prone form, her hand upon the half-orc’s brow. He looked dead. Were it not for the attention Mialee paid him, Vadania would have concluded he was.

Her descent grew more rapid. She approached the party in a steep dive, flaring her tail feathers at the last second to slow her approach. She landed on the sand with a double hop. No one seemed very surprised by her appearance. The only one of them who hadn’t witnessed her shapechanging was out cold. She let out a shrill shriek.

A transformation started in the depths of her chest. Her heart pulsed more slowly and the talons at the tips of her clawed feet began to expand and flatten. Her body grew rapidly to its full height as the feathers composing the hawk’s wings withdrew into the pores on her arms. The beak pulled back into her face and her eyes grew into the long, almond shape that marked those of her race.

Within moments, an elf woman stood where the bird had been. Vadania reached down to reassure herself by touching the hilt of her scimitar. The weapon was strapped to her hip, as it should be. The antlers in her hair and the beads that covered her clothing were all as they had been an hour before.

“Is he all right?” she asked, joining Mialee at Malthooz’s side.

The wooden symbol lay exposed on the half-orc’s chest. She stared at the disk.

“Krusk found it on him when he drug him up here,” Mialee said. “It’s a holy symbol, eh?”

Vadania grabbed the disk, turning it over and nodding.

“Looks like a symbol to Pelor,” said the druid. “I thought I saw him with it earlier.”

“He took a blow to the head, but he’ll be all right,” Mialee said. “He’s stirred a few times and groaned once or twice.”

Vadania placed a hand on Malthooz’s forehead, reciting the words to a simple healing spell.

“Someone was definitely here within the week,” she said when the spell was done. “A large group I’d say, maybe a dozen and a half. I don’t think they were from the ship. I don’t think they were even human, in fact, though I’m not sure.”