Chicken Stroll
Part One
“Why are you talking to me, you over-evolved simian? Do you expect a reply, perhaps a philosophical discussion, or are you simply too ignorant of the vast difference between our species to realise that the chances of communication are infinitesimal?” Edwin spat at the human facing him. Or at least, he tried to. What he actually said was:
“Cluck, cluck, brbrbrbrbrbr, cluck, cluuuu-cluck!”
The huge human, whom appeared to be solely made of boots and nostrils, threw some grain at him and thudded off. Edwin fumed silently, then roused his feathers and settled them.
What's bothering you this time? A voice sounded in his head- no, that was the wrong description. He didn't hear the voice, he felt it, a mixture of emotions and thoughts all rolled together. The 'voice' could only belong to one person: his familiar, Nalia De'Arnise. Due to a fortu...unfortunate coincidence, he and Nalia had cast 'Find Familiar' at precisely the same moment- and found themselves bound together. Since then, life had been rather...busy.
I never realised until I stopped being one just what idiots humans are. He complained bitterly.
Nalia felt amused in her reply. Yes you did, you were always complaining about it.
A sharp beak poked him in the back. He yelped- well, all right, squawked- and spun round. Stop doing that!
A short and slightly plump white hen stood there- the chicken curse had not been kind to Nalia at all. He had been far more fortunate- his magnificent iridescent tail plumes brushed the air, and his head crest was a vivid red and stood proudly on top of his feathered scalp.
Sorry, I keep forgetting how sharp my...beak... is. She flapped her wings hopelessly. I can't get used to this at all.
My dear Nalia, I would worry more if you were getting used to it. He sighed, but filtered through his beak it came out as an odd whistling noise. I hope my letter got to its destination.
I hope so too, She replied, but your old teacher can't do everything. We ought to make our own plans. I'll tell you one thing, though, She scraped her claws meaningfully, the Roenalls are going to pay for this.
Edwin felt his neck feathers rise slightly. I often think you are a spineless wench, but now and again, you surprise me. Teacher Dekaras will rescue us, trust me.
Maybe...or maybe Andorel will, Nalia said. I did manage to send off a note of my own, after all. He's really, really good with that big sword of his, and right now I wouldn't mind at all if he used it on the people having the temerity to do this to us! Say...maybe the two of them could team up? I bet these...these wizard-nappers would be really sorry then!
She sounded unusually bloodthirsty, and Edwin wholly approved of that, but the rest of the statement merited a formal, logical and well formulated protest.
Absolutely out of the question! Edwin snapped, his feathers ruffling angrily. There is no conceivable way that Teacher Dekaras would ever lower himself to in any way consort with that...that crude, offensive, feebleminded, armour-plated green ape! No way, I tell you!
Oh, calm down, 'Dwin, Nalia clucked disapprovingly. I don't see why youare so tetchy anyway - you're not the one who has to deal with the...egg thing.
She absentmindedly bobbed her head down, and snatched some corn, and Edwin automatically followed her example, hating the way the chicken body ruled his superior, finely tuned mind. Well, at least it was better than having to think about...that.
You forget, my dear Nalia, he said in as haughty a manner as he could, that I feel everything you feel. (And I am never going to eat another egg in my life, boiled, fried or scrambled.) But never mind your baser feminine urges - as I said, there is absolutely no way that Teacher Dekaras would ever tolerate the presence of that idiotic half-orc with the hero complex. None, I tell you. He would rather die.
***
“Hey Vaddy, I just thought of something funny!” Andorel was baring his pointed yellow teeth in a wide grin that would have looked terrifying to anybody who didn't know him well.
Actually, Dekaras mused, it was still a bit disconcerting, given the kind of things Andorel would sometimes find 'funny'. Pitched combat against three large ogres sprang to mind, as did the yodelling. Dekaras still couldn’t quite fathom just what Andorel found so fascinating about Tethyrian yodelling- the half-orc had only managed to say that it reminded him of this druid he once met before he'd broken down in helpless laughter.
“Yes, Andorel?” the assassin replied, while simultaneously glancing across his shoulder at the sun that was just about to set below the treetops. They probably wouldn't make it to an inn before nightfall, but perhaps that was just as well. At least this way the half-orc wouldn't be able to nag him about 'loosening up and gettin' bloody well pissed, it's for yer own good, really'. “What is so funny?”
“Well, what with you accident'lly gettin' part of my Bhaalblood from me, it makes ya my little brother, right?” Andorel looked up at the taller assassin, and now there was something terrifying about the relentless good cheer in those muddy green eyes. “Shame we sorta skipped the part with you riding piggy-back or me teaching ya how to draw a house.”
“Andorel, I've told you a thousand times - I am not your 'little’ brother!”
“But you'd make a great little brother, Vaddy! Tell you what- how 'bout I tell ya a bedtime story, huh? Immy taught me some brill ones. Hey, she'd be your sister too, I guess.”
“And Sarevok would be my elder brother.” Dekaras remarked dryly. “You forget just how many brothers and sisters you have, I think.”
Andorel scratched his neck thoughtfully. “Yeah. Guess that means you get to pick and choose, huh? You don't have much fam'ly yerself- well, not as such, anyhow...”
“I think we need to plan our next move.” Dekaras interrupted. “We killed the brother of our chicken-obsessed mage, so we must assume that she will plan retribution of some sort. Her brother's apprentice escaped, so she must know of our existence by now.”
“I just hope she never finds out the mess you made of her brother.” Andorel said ruefully. “I think we'd get turned into chickens too, if she did.”
“I...would rather not be reminded of that incident, actually.” Dekaras remarked uncomfortably.
“It's not like it was your fault you ripped him from limb to limb and spread his guts all over that...”
“Andorel!”
“Yeah, but you were, like, possessed at the time, so...”
“Andorel, please. I do not want to think about it.” Dekaras shuddered at the memory of his recent...lack of control. He had told himself over and over again to listen to his half-orc friend's words, that it was not his fault. However, one little word always seemed to creep into the sentance: but... “Let's just concentrate on finding the boy and Nalia, yes? According to this document I found on his body, the...deceased mage was an employee of 'Falcon's Meet Poultry Farm', a provider of fresh eggs and meat to the discerning customer.”
Andorel looked positively sick. “They...haven't been et, have they?”
“No!” Dekaras surprised even himself with how vehement he sounded. Then again, perhaps it was not so surprising. After all, he had tried very, very hard not to imagine that exact scenario ever since he had first laid eyes upon that letter. “No,” he went on in a softer voice. “No, I don't believe so. Or to be more accurate, I won't let myself believe it, not unless...not unless I'm proven wrong beyond a shadow of a doubt. But you are right, they are both very likely to be in grave danger.” There was an edge of keen desperation in his voice. “And I greatly fear that Edwin will be first in line for the chopping block. Given his normal mode of interaction with other people, and the fact that the curse is unlikely to have improved his disposition, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he resorts to pecking the wrong toes.”
Andorel noticed. “Yeah, you're probably right. And Nalia, well, you haven't met her yet, so ya wouldn't know, but even if she's real great she's used to gettin' things her own way, her bein' a noble and all that crap. Huh, guess it makes sense after all with her and Eddie becoming good friends like that, him being such a spoilt brat an' all.”
“He's not that badly spoilt,” Dekaras said, looking rather affronted.
“Vaddy, who're you trying to kid? I've met the guy, y'know. But the point is, well, Eddie and Nalia together with both of them chicken-fied and in a pissy mood, that could make even Keldorn reach for an axe and some salt and pepper, don't ya think?”
The assassin and the half-orc looked at each other, and some seconds passed in silence as they both mulled this over.
“I think,” Dekaras said, picking up his already swift pace a little, “that we want to hurry. And not stop to eat too often. Or to sleep, for that matter.”
“Right you are, little brother.” Andorel also increased his speed, his sturdy legs driving up little clouds of dust as he walked, matching the longer strides of the assassin. “Hey, how about a cheery thing to shout when we run? I like 'Forwards the two chicken hunters!'“
“Charming,” Dekaras dryly remarked. “And here I was about to suggest 'Let's hunt some poultry.' Well, let's hurry on then.”
And on they went, as the sky deepened to a velvety deep blue bordering on black, and the stars came out above. Then, in the darkness, there was a voice. “Vaddy? How about stopping for privy breaks now and then? Can we do that at least? Only I think going on the go is gonna be a bit difficult...”
