Chicken Stroll
Part Fifteen
Dekaras opened his beak to reply, and then closed it again. No, there was no real answer to that, was there? He opened his beak again, but was distracted by a noise. A scrabbling, scraping noise, with the occasional clink.
Jackie pressed into his side suddenly. “Fox.” She whispered, and huddled still closer.
On the other side, Saffron pressed in as well, so that the two roosters were shoved together in the middle. Scrabble. Scrabble. A slight metallic pinging noise.
“That must have been the fence.” Dekaras commented thoughtfully. “I wonder if they will leave a gap big enough for us to escape?”
“Vaddy, foxes kill chickens, right? If you even think of going out for a peek I'll hold on to your tail and knock ya out!”
“Men fix fence. Always. Fox come back, find way in again.” Saffron whispered. There was a faint growl, and then a cut off squawk.
“He got one.” Jackie said. “He kill, take away, come back for more. About ten.”
“We gotta stop it!” Andorel said, flapping his wings in the dark. Saffron pecked him rudely. “No! Stay quiet, stay alive. Foxes kill chickens. Can't stop it.”
There was a pattering of clawed feet, right beneath them this time. Dekaras could feel Jackie shivering as he presssed against her. This time, he let her stay there. The four chickens sat huddled together, silent and watching the pitch dark. Another growl, and then a racket of squawking and the scrabbling of claws on dirt. A rustle of straw. The squawking faded into wheezing silence, then the patter of feet moved off
The night felt endless, far longer than most nights Dekaras could remember. The fox had gone away after a while, but the discomfort had lingered, and he hadn't slept much. It wasn't merely the mortal danger that got to him, it was the humiliating idea of being threatened by a fox. Granted, he wasn't exactly his normal self, but still...
The black rooster irritably shook his feathers out as he stepped out of the chicken coop and into the grey light of dawn. That itch still lingered, and did nothing to improve his mood. Vainly, he tried relieving it by rubbing himself against the wall of the chicken coop, but his wings got in the way and prevented him from getting close enough.
“It's yer own fault,” Andorel said, looking up from his breakfast, a filling buffet of corn and grubs. “You could have let Jackie preen ya when you had the chance. Turnin' down quality time with a bird like that is just dumb. Sure you don't want me to do it either?”
“No thank you,” Dekaras shortly said. I can ignore a simple itch, after all. Some willpower is all it takes. I am not about to let myself be...preened. “Have you seen Edwin and Nalia yet?”
“Nope.” The big chicken suddenly looked worried. “You don't suppose the fox got to them?”
“No,” Dekaras said, gingerly helping himself to a bit of corn. “I listened for the beast, it never went towards the coop where they were sleeping.” At least the corn was pretty nice. Not as nice as the fat, glistening grubs looked, but... No! No grubs! Absolutely no grubs! “Ah...as I was about to say,” he continued, resolutely not looking at the grub, “it never got near them. And if it had, I certainly wouldn't have remained there, I can tell you that much.” He carefully smoothed down the feathers along the side of his right wing. “And now, I think I will go and have a look at the fence. Perhaps the escape route is still viable, if our captors haven't yet repaired it.”
“Sure thing, Vaddy. And I'm coming with you.”
“Andorel, that really isn't necessary.” There was a steely glint in the large rooster's eye.
“Oh yeah, it is. After what happened yesterday, d'you really think I'm about to let ya wander about alone? I was that close to bein' et, you know.” He demonstrated a minimal distance between two of his claws. “And just in case those bastards are out looking for another chicken dinner, I'm gonna make sure you're not it. Friends don't let friends get et.”
Dekaras blinked. “I suppose I cannot really argue with that,” he admitted. “Very well, come along then. And also, I think you should tell me some more about what you saw inside that house.” He gave the larger rooster an apologetic look. “Believe me, I fully understand that you'd rather not dwell upon it, but it might be that you can tell us something that will aid in our escape.”
“Oh, ok, ok.” Andorel took a deep breath. “Right. Uh, I was taken into this
room. It had a big wooden table in it. Those two men were there and a woman in fancy clothes. The half-orc had a bloody big sharp cleaver.” He blinked and swallowed. “Do ya know how big those things look when you're a sodding chicken? I nearly puked, 'cept chickens can't do that, not even if they eat a bad seed or summat. They can crap themselves, though, cos I...”
“Moving swiftly on, they obviously didn't cut your head off.” Dekaras interrupted. “If you don't mind me asking the question, why not?”
“Well, the man raised his cleaver, and started to bring it down, when the
woman pointed, and he whacked it into the wood of the table besides me.
Look, he caught my tail!” Andorel waggled his slightly truncated tail feathers to demonstrate. “Then the woman came over, and grabbed hold of my beak. I didn't move 'cos...'cos I was scared shitless, truth be told. The guy with the cleaver grabbed me and took me into a weird round room, where the woman was. I reckon she was a mage- she had all this glittery crap on her dress.”
“That can be a sign of magical talent.” Dekaras said solemnly. “What happened then?”
“Well, she got out these pincers and sort of pinched me, but not really.”
Dekaras found himself wondering if getting a description out of Andorel was in actuality slightly more painful than going through the experience himself. “'Not really'?”
“Well, she bunged them on my head, but only tightened them so they just touched. Din't hurt. Then she went over to the wall and...are ya listenin'?” Andorel looked at Dekaras curiously. He was staring at a patch of earth a little way ahead of the two roosters. “Oh, crap.”
There were a few feathers, stuck down with dried, brown blood, and a trail slithering away from it to a hole in the dented mesh fence surrounding the chicken coops. Thom and Grat were beyond on, kneeling looking at the hole- an escape route.
“I guess we know where the fox went, then.” He said, in a shaky voice. A thought struck him. “Vaddy, don't even think about tryin' to get out through that hole with those men there. Vaddy! Come back!”
***
That pesky fox had been at the chickens again. Thom didn't mind so much if there was one chicken more or less to feed, but She would be upset, and that could make her nasty. Also, it meant fixing the fence - again.
“Think it got the black one?” he hopefully asked his companion.
“What?” Grat absently said. The half-orc was examining the trail they had found, muttering something about maybe setting traps if this went on. “You know. The Black Chicken. Think the fox got it?”
“Nope. These feathers are brown, see?”
“Oh.” Thom sighed. He'd really been getting his hopes up there, for a moment. True, the horribly mutated chicken was scary too, but the black was the one he was having nightmares about. Why, only tonight he'd been dreaming that it was perched on the headboard of his bed, looming menacingly over him, watching him. He'd woken up with a scream, drenched in sweat, and for a few seconds he'd actually thought he could see the black rooster, glaring down at him. The jittery thug bent over the fence again, testing its strength, trying to concentrate. It's only a chicken. It's only a chicken. It's only a chicken. And She has plans for it, and then it'll soon be gone. Only... only... suppose something goes wrong? No! It's only a chicken! But...it's a nasty chicken!
At that precise moment, there was a loud and admonishing crowing, and an indignant clucking, and Thom startled, looking up. Then, the roll of wire he was holding dropped unseen from his suddenly nerveless fingers, and he uttered a choked, wheesing scream. The large brown chicken, the magic one, was standing just a short distance away, clucking loudly in a way that vaguely reminded Thom of his long-departed mother telling him off about staying out too late. And...and...just a few feet away, there It was: The inky black rooster, almost close enough to touch.
It was crouched down on the ground, having flattened itself right up against the fence where there were some shadows cast by the surrounding bushes, and Thom doubted that he'd even would have seen it if the other one hadn't made such a racket. The black rooster gave the green-combed one an accusing look, and then stood up in a nonchalant manner, turning its eyes towards Thom. Glittering black eyes, implacably cold. The bird opened its horribly sharp beak just a little bit, and there was a faint, almost inaudible hiss. Thom bit his lower lip, hoping Grat wouldn't smell the small accident he'd just had, too spooked to turn and run as he wanted to.
It'sonlyachickenIt'sonlyachickenIt'sonlyachicken...
For some reason, he didn't believe himself.
***
Dekaras' crest had gone red. Bright red. Crap, he's angry. I'm too good at makin' him angry. Andorel thought as he backed away nervously. The black rooster turned around and then slowly stalked towards him, one clawed foot at a time.
“Well, that was an interesting little stream of invective you produced there.” He said, apparently calmly. He's pretendin' to be calm. That's never good. “Were you just letting off some steam, or practising your cursing for future use? It is always good to develop new skills, and maybe one day you could make a sterling bard, however, I do take issue with the time you chose to practice.” Dekaras casually scratched the ground with his claws, looking for hidden seed.
“Oh, knock it off, Vaddy! You know what I was doin'. If you'd tried to escape, they'd have wrung yer neck and served you up fer dinner. So stop the sarcasm crap, it might work on your so...” Andorel stopped suddenly and looked embarassed.
Dekaras looked up in barely-concealed alarm. “My what?” He asked quietly.
“Your...pupil.” The large rooster continued slowly. “But it don't work on me, got it?
Dekaras swallowed. “Oh, very well. But I hope you realise I am not at all pleased with your recent behaviour, understood? I am perfectly able to take care of myself, and my actions are always under my absolute command.”
“Uh, Vaddy? Do you know you just ate a grub?”
Dekaras' crest, so recently bright red, now went a pale sickly pink. His eyes widened in horror, and he made a strangled squawking noise. “That taste...I can taste it.”
“Was it a nice one?” Andorel asked interestedly.
“I can feel it wriggling...” He said to himself, staring into midair. His beak opened, and he made an odd retching noise.
“The wriggly ones are the best. You're damned lucky to have spotted it.”
“I...hrraaagh.... do... wurgh...not... uck...eat... leeargh...larvae! Not.. .cough.. keeping... yergh... it...” Dekaras tossed his head, making spluttering noises, and then shoved one of his sharp claws down his throat.
“Hey, stop that!”
Dekaras paid him no heed, instead trying to force his claw further and further down his thoat, now and then coughing violently. “Won't...cough...eat...hrrurrrgh...grubs!”
“Vaddy, I told ya, chickens can't puke! Stop it before you get hurt!”
By now, the black rooster's eyes were almost entirely closed with intense concentration, or possibly with pain. He made another retching noise, and scattered a few drops of dark blood onto the dry ground, where it was almost immediately soaked up. This didn't seem to discourage him though, and the claw didn't even retract an inch.
“Stop it, ya idiot!” Andorel bellowed, flapping his wings in the face of his friend to try to snap him out of it. “You'll rip yer own gizzard open!”
“Don't...rrraaagh...care...” the assassin wheezed. He coughed again, and some more blood hit the ground, in bigger clots this time. “Have to...errk...get it...gulp...OUT!” This time, it wasn't just clots, it was a fine spurt of blood that narrowly avoided hitting Andorel in the eye. More of it continued to slowly trickle out of desperate rooster's open beak, seeping into the black feathers on his neck. That did it, as far as Andorel was concerned. Since telling his friend off or appealing to his common sense didn't seem to have any effect, there was really only one thing to do. As quickly and surprisingly as he could, he let his entire considerable bulk slam into the side of the black rooster, effectively tackling him to the ground.
Dekaras didn't really stand a chance, standing on one leg as he was, not against Andorel's far greater weight, and with a shocked and half-choked squawk he fell onto his back, wings flapping helplessly as Andorel landed on top of him and all of the air was driven out of his lungs. For a few terrible seconds Andorel thought he might have killed his friend, who was lying completely immobile beneath him, eyes rolled back into his head. Not breathing? Please, no, dear Tyr, let him not be dead! Then, at last, the assassin coughed weakly, and drew a long, shuddering breath. He was still bleading from his beak, Andorel noticed, but not as heavily as before. Well, that's a good thing, innit? Now, gotta wake him up and...
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
Oh crap. Figures Eddie would have to show up now of all times.
