Soul Mateys
Part Five
“How did you do that?!” Dekaras asked incredulously.
“Uh, one of those Bhaal things. I can make myself really strong, but only for a little bit of time.” He gestured at the broken straps on the bench. “Mostly I don't bother with it, but I guess it's useful sometimes.”
“Yes,” Dekaras replied faintly, feeling oddly disappointed, “I suppose it is.” There wasn't much of interest to see in the basement, apart from the bloodletting apparatus. Dekaras made certain to get them both disconnected from that before anything else - and he took the precaution of having Andorel turn his back away from the bottles as he pulled the needles out. Even so, the half-orc looked pretty queasy. Dekaras didn't feel all that good himself...and it wasn't just the hangover, he could tell that much now. The moment he had moved into a standing position he had heard the blood rushing in his ears and seen floating specks in front of his eyes - he had lost quite a bit of blood, and so had Andorel. In order to recuperate they would need both food and rest, and the sooner the better. His stomach heaved dangerously once again. Well, perhaps just rest. He didn't like it, he wanted nothing more than to go after Edwin at once, but it couldn't be helped. In his current state, he wouldn't be good for much. But first they had to get out of here, of course.
“I wonder why these people set up this bloodletting apparatus?” Dekaras mused aloud. “It seems so needlessly complicated, if they simply wanted us dead. And why leave us alone like this? Surely you would expect them to have placed us under guard? Even if we were incapacitated, they shouldn't have expected us to be permanently helpless.”
“Vaddy, I don't give a toss why!” Andorel firmly declared. He accidentally looked at the two bottles and shivered like a large tree in a storm before he looked away. Then he grabbed the assassin by the arm, and started pulling him towards the door. “Let's just get outta here!”
Normally he would have protested against the manhandling, but Dekaras was still more than a little unsteady on his feet, and didn't want to risk an undignified fall. “I simply don't like not understanding it,” he complained. “It doesn't make sense, there has to be something important we're missing.”
“Yeah, like about half of our soddin' BLOOD! Now let's GO!” And so they went.
Much later, they would bitterly regret not having taken the opportunity to smash those two bottles before they did so, but by then it would be far, far too late.
It wasn't exactly a standard escape of fable. There were no mad dashes away from tumbling boulders, no fireballs chasing the pair down corridors, and no screaming guards following them with a hail of arrows. In fact, there was no running at all- neither Dekaras nor Andorel felt capable of moving at more than a walk without falling flat on their faces. Andorel began to realise that Dekaras had a point. Where were the guards and traps? He supposed he should be glad there weren't any, but, heck, escaping wasn't supposed to be easy. Still, no point complainin'. It's better this way than if it's hard, I s'pose. All they had to do was climb the stairs to the ground floor, and walk out of the front door of what turned out to be a small, derelict cottage.
Outside, the sky was blue, and the position of the sun made it look like it was close to midday. Birds sang in a way that seemed too cheerful and was certainly far too loud to Andorel's pounding head. Dekaras winced and shaded his eyes hastily.
“I need a drink.” The half-orc declared. Dekaras looked at him with a mixture of disgust and abject horror.
“Of water, Vaddy. I'm thirsty.”
“An unavoidable side-effect of the blood-loss we've suffered, I suspect.” He replied. “If we can find a stream a reasonable distance from this house, it would be an ideal place to rest for a while.”
“Streams are downhill, too, and that works for me. I'm knackered.”
They set off down the slight slope the cottage sat on. The area they had been captured in seemed to be mainly planes, and the gentle slope continued a long way until they entered a small wood carpeted with ferns. The ground became mossy, and eventually dipped sharply down into a small gully, along the bottom of which ran a small pebbled stream.
Andorel headed straight for it, and dunked his head into the cold water right up to his shoulders, and then emerged, snorting cheerfully. Dekaras, in the meanwhile, drank eagerly out of his cupped hands, trying not to gulp the liquid down faster than was polite or sensible, given the state of his digestion. He stayed thirsty for a long time, and did nothing but drink for a while, letting the coolness calm his thoughts and stomach.
Andorel rubbed his head thoughtfully, making his wet hair stick out at various angles. “Uh, Vaddy?”
“Yes?” Dekaras paused in his drinking only as long as it took to say the one syllable.
“Don't know quite how to say this, but...”
“What is it?”
“You stink.” He grinned toothily. “You're still covered in mud and horse-shit from that road. Take a bath, huh?”
The assassin froze, and the water slowly dripped from his hand. “Yes. Yes, I think I shall. But...”
“I won't see nothin'. I'm gonna pass out for a bit.” Andorel replied, lying down on the mossy woodland floor. He was already snoring by the time Dekaras turned back to the stream.
Dekaras thought for a short moment, then started disrobing. He made certain to put his clothes in the brightest spot of sunlight he could find, in order to make the filth dry all the quicker. Washing them at the moment was regrettably out of the question. He didn't have anything else to wear since his entire pack was still back at the inn where he and Andorel had gotten so woefully drunk. Wearing wet clothes was out of the question if he didn't want to risk pneumonia, and he certainly wasn't about to prance around naked in front of the half-orc while they dried. Once was quite enough, thank you.
The only sensible alternative was to clean himself, scrape the worst of the dreck off of his clothes, and then get them washed as soon as possible. Satisfied with that, the assassin entered the icy water, scrubbing himself vigorously. The water wasn't exactly pleasant, but he didn't care. Being filthy was far worse. Besides, he'd bathed in colder water than this as a child back in Rasheman, hadn't he? And that would be yet another excellent reason for migration, if I hadn't had one already. Give me the climate of Thay, anytime.
Once he had decided that both he and his clothes were as presentable as he could currently make them, Dekaras dressed again and sat down on the ground a short distance from Andorel, leaning his back against a tree. The half-orc was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead, totally out of it. I had best keep awake...there may not have been any guards about, but that is no guarantee that we won't be followed. The sun shone, spreading cosy warmth. The birds had quieted down, and the only sounds to be heard were the whispering of the leaves, and the buzzing of a lone bumblebee. Oh, and Andorel's snoring of course. But that wasn't
a disturbing sound, he'd grown quite used to it during their travels. It was actually rather...soothing. The air was clean, warm, and smelling of rich earth, moss and leaves. Well, Dekaras thought. Perhaps I could rest just briefly...it isn't as if I am a heavy sleeper after all. If anybody should approach, I'm bound to hear it. In this, he was quite correct. Unfortunately, he was completely unaware of the fact that when somebody did eventually approach, he would be entirely unable to do anything about it.
***
When Andorel woke up, it was to the sound of a bloodcurdling scream of
utter rage, such as might come from a demon who's just had his victim torn out
of his claws. He started violently awake, leapt to his feet...and banged his head soundly against the hard roof that seemed to have mysteriously
appeared above his head. There was a loud Goooooiiiiing, as if he had struck the inside of some giant bell, a deep and metallic sound. Moreover it was
dark, and as he stumbled around, he ran into a wall that proved just as hard as the roof had been. “Shar-shagging, stinking, stupid shite...” he started cursing. Then he broke off. For what he had in fact just said was: “Cluck bwwwaaarrrk, cluckety-cluck craaaaa!”
He froze in shock at the sound he had made, and there was another scream. Sounds more like a...squawk. A strange prickling sensation tickled his back, and he realised it was the feel of his feathers flattening in shock. His arms felt even odder, though, as if they were bent into a strange position. In fact, they were bent into a strange position. Into a wing shape. He had wings. And feathers. He looked down. Oh, and claws. Sweet Tyr, I'm a chicken! His beak made an odd whistling noise. I'm a sodding CHICKEN!
