The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Ha!” Scar exclaimed. “I scored first.”

  The wolf circled and Scar turned as well, always keeping the beast before him.

  “Come on,” he said and motioned with a blade for the wolf to approach. The wolf didn’t comply. Instead, it kept circling as if trying to find a weakness to exploit.

  Then a second growl came from his right. He turned to look and saw another wolf approaching. One he could handle, but two? And in his weakened state? He feinted at the wolf he’d been sparring with causing it to dart back, then raced for a tree with low hanging branches. Sheathing his swords on the run, he leapt for the branches and grabbed hold of one. Instantly, pain erupted along the length of his wounds. Gasping, he swung up and got on top of the limb, then reached for the next one higher up the tree.

  A wolf slammed into the branch upon which he sat. Scooting fast toward the trunk, he barely avoided having his leg shredded. The second wolf leapt and clung to it as well. The limb bowed beneath the added weight and Scar heard it crack.

  He grabbed for the limb directly above him as the limb broke, leaving him dangling for dear life. His chest was on fire; it felt like his wounds had ripped open all over again.

  Down below, the wolves leapt for him, forcing him to pull up his legs. It was about this time he thought that perhaps he may have gone a bit too far in heading out in the dark by himself. Both wolves leapt and one caught the end of his trousers. Claws grabbed hold and tore six inches off the right leg.

  His chest a mass of agony, the limb he hung to felt like it was going to break off and two deadly wolves waited below to rip him to pieces. “Potbelly,” he said, “where are you.”

  A shadow darted from the greater darkness. “Right here.”

  Using both hands, Potbelly thrust his sword into one of the wolves’ back. As the wolf collapsed, he pulled it free, turned toward the other and lunged forward. It caught the wolf in the side but didn’t go in very deep. The beast growled, darted back, then turned and launched itself forward.

  Potbelly raked his knife across its face and then as the beast tried to backpedal, his sword came in from the side and caught it full on the jawline. Fur parted and bones cracked. Yelping the beast raced off into the dark.

  Scar let go the limb and landed on his feet with a groan.

  “What in the name of all the gods do you think you are doing?” Potbelly demanded. “Of all the foolish things you have ever done, this has to be the most lame brained, idiotic…”

  “Garrock is here.”

  Pausing in his diatribe detailing Scar’s foolishness, he asked, “What did you say?”

  “Garrock, is here.” He then pointed toward where he last saw Garrock and his men fighting the wolves. “That way, maybe a hundred yards.”

  “And you think that makes it all right for you to be out here alone in your condition?”

  “No, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “Let’s get back to camp before either more wolves come or he discovers we’re here.”

  “I think he may already know,” Scar said. “Else why be here now?”

  Potbelly cast him an irritation-filled look. “You went back on your word.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You promised to wake me if something happened.”

  “No,” Scar clarified, “I didn’t. I promised to wake you if the wolves returned. They didn’t. I went out to them.”

  Potbelly muttered to himself the entire way back about brainless idiots and how some people care nothing for their lives.

  The fire had burned down to a soft glow by the time they returned. It was decided to leave it that way so as not to have a beacon telling Garrock where they were. Lots of wood was piled next to it in case wolves came by and they needed to create their fire barrier.

  Potbelly inspected Scar’s wounds in the glow of the embers.

  “Doesn’t look like you broke them open,” he said. “They are red and enflamed after your acrobatics, but otherwise look okay.”

  “So, all’s well.”

  “Nothing is ‘all’s well!’” Potbelly exploded. “Garrock is just down the hill, wolves are trying to kill us and we still have a ways to go. So don’t go saying that ‘all’s well.’”

  Scar leaned against the side of the cave and closed his eyes. He fell asleep listening to Potbelly’s muttering and knowing that he only complained so much because of the friendship they shared.

  -15-

  The morning dawned glorious. Potbelly had breakfast ready for Scar when he woke.

  “Any sign of Garrock?”

  Potbelly shook his head. “No. Nor of the wolves. They didn’t come round last night.”

  “That’s at least one positive happenstance for Garrock’s presence,” Scar said.

  “I’d rather fight the wolves than know he was nearby.” He inspected Scar’s wounds. “How do you feel?” Though red and a little puffy from last night’s adventure, they looked to be healing nicely.

  “Like the first time in the pit.”

  Chuckling, Potbelly said, “I bet.” He secured the bandage back in place then sat next to Scar. “What are we going to do about Garrock?”

  “Kill him if we can, avoid him if we can’t,” Scar replied. “But at the very least, beat him to the treasure.”

  “We should get going. Stay ahead of him.”

  “What we really need to do is find a way to throw him off our trail. What good will it be to get to the treasure first if he and his men simply take it from us. Now I’m not one to back down from a fight, but with him having crossbows…”

  “I know,” agreed Potbelly. He got the horses that were already saddled and led them from the cave. “We’ll keep an eye out for what possibilities present themselves.”

  Moving out, they headed up the mountain. Crystal Crag loomed beyond the mountain farther back in the mountain range. They worked to maintain a heading that would take them to the northern slope of Crystal Crag, and the cavernous opening foretold by Matlin.

  By late afternoon they hit the snowline and thanked the gods that they had the good sense to acquire warmer clothing.

  Scar spied an overlook farther up that would provide a commanding view of the valley they had recently left.

  “I bet from there we could discover where Garrock got to.”

  Potbelly nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Hooves crunched in the dusting of snow deposited days ago as they worked their way up to the overlook. Once there, they dismounted and strode out upon it. The view was breathtaking.

  The entire valley unfolded before them. Framed by mountains on either side the view was nothing short of spectacular. Of Garrock there was no sign. But there was one thing they noticed that caused worry. Their tracks through the snow were clearly visible.

  “No way around that,” Scar said.

  “Yeah,” Potbelly replied. “If they come across those they can follow them right to us.”

  Scar nodded. “We’re going to have to deal with this or the next time we camp they’ll be on us.”

  “How do you feel?”

  He stretched. “A little stiff and in some pain when I move.”

  Potbelly glanced to his friend. “It’s times like this when I wish I was proficient with a bow.”

  “You got that right,” Scar agreed.

  “Last two nights, when the wolves came they hit Garrock.” He glanced to Scar. “Wouldn’t it be reasonable to think the same would happen tonight should they come?”

  “Possible.”

  “So tonight, instead of camping we forge through these mountains with as much speed as possible.” He glanced to the horizon. “Moon should be up soon and with it reflecting off the snow, we should have enough light to see.”

  “It’s a gamble. If the wolves hit us out in the open, things might not go well.”

  “I think it’s a chance we need to take. Then perhaps by tomorrow we’ll be able to figure a way to deal with Garrock.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

&
nbsp; When the sun went down, so did the temperature. It got cold. They donned their warmer clothes and still the wind cut like a knife. The moon rose an hour after twilight. Reflecting off the snowy ground allowed them to continue through the mountains toward Crystal Crag. They took it slow and steady, keeping a careful watch on the area ahead.

  Howls in the distance said the wolves were once again active. Scar prayed they were harassing Garrock. As they continued on, the wolves drew no closer. They began to relax.

  Trees proved their greatest hindrance. Their branches blocked the dim moonlight and created shadows concealing irregularities in the terrain that could cause their horses to take a misstep. Any such would assuredly injure the horse beyond their capacity to remedy.

  They went single file with Potbelly in the lead. Scar groused but gave in when Potbelly offered to wrestle him for the honor. There was no trail and at times branches grew so intertwined that they forged forward in near darkness. Needless to say, the going was stressful and danger-filled.

  Several hours later when the night was deep and cold, the early morning air was shattered by the far off roar of a large beast. Scar recalled the claws of the snow beast the merchant had displayed. Could it have been one of those great creatures? Or was it something else; something much, much worse? He put it from his mind as something he could do nothing about in any event.

  The moon arched overhead as they worked their way up the side of the mountain. It eventually sank beyond the peaks to the west and what little light they had was gone. Potbelly dismounted and came back to Scar.

  “Continuing in the dark would be foolhardy,” he said. “We should make camp. At least until dawn.”

  Scar was more than ready to stop. Continuous jarring had left his wounds angry and painful. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s make camp.”

  “There’s a small copse of trees up ahead. They should give us some shelter.”

  Scar nodded and waved him forward.

  Returning to his mount Potbelly took the reins and led him forward. The area within the trees was free of snow; even the wind was subdued. He gathered small pieces of wood and built a fire at the heart of the copse; keeping it small so minimize the chance of it being seen by their pursuers.

  Scar sat next to it and reveled in the warmth. The ride had been frigid. “Get some rest,” he told Potbelly. “I’ll keep watch.” When Potbelly made to argue, he said, “I rested while we rode.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You need sleep more than I do.”

  Potbelly couldn’t argue. Since Scar received his injuries, he’d lost much sleep. Lying down by the fire, he was out in an instant.

  Scar listened to the now very far off howling of wolves. A chuckle came to him upon envisioning Garrock and his men fending off the pack. “What is this, three nights in a row? Ride all day, fight all night… Garrock, you have to be on the verge of exhaustion.”

  Then another of the bestial roars, this time much closer. Still not too close, he stoked the fire a little bit more and leaned against a tree. He kept watch on the dark and though the roars continued until dawn, their owners never put in an appearance.

  Once the sky lightened sufficiently for them to discern their way, he nudged Potbelly awake and they set out.

  It was a beautiful scene as they continued up the mountain. Snow-capped peaks surrounded them, trees laden with snow abounded, and birds flitted about in the early morning sunrise. Crystal Crag loomed even more prominent than it had the day before. Once they reached the summit of the mountain they currently climbed, they should be able to see Crystal Crag in its entirety.

  Hours passed and they continued slugging up the mountain. A little before noon, they breached the pass on its western summit. And there before them rose Crystal Crag. Its seven terraces were breathtaking in their scope and beauty.

  The cavern through which they had to pass in order to reach the treasure was not in view. It must be farther around to the north. From their current position, they had to descend a ways down the mountainside, cross another small valley through which ran a river, and then up the side of Crystal Crag.

  “Almost there.”

  Scar nodded. “We could camp in the valley below, then be up to the cavern the next day.”

  Potbelly glanced back down the way they had come. “Maybe we gave Garrock the slip?”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Scar warned. “He’s coming. The wolves may have delayed him, but make no mistake, he’s coming.”

  Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention farther up the mountain. But when he turned, it was gone. Not sure what it was, or even if he had actually seen anything at all, he scanned the area up there for a moment, then dismissed it.

  Potbelly kept the lead as they made their way down to the valley.

  Several more times Scar thought he saw something at the edge of his vision only to turn and see nothing. He thought it might be lack of sleep or delirium, but after the sixth time, he said something to Potbelly.

  “I think I may be losing my mind.”

  “I’ve known that for some time,” quipped Potbelly.

  “No, I’m serious. I keep thinking I see something only to turn and find nothing.”

  “Snow can play tricks on you.”

  “How would you know?” Scar asked. “You’ve never been in much snow.”

  “Everyone knows that. Common knowledge.”

  Scar didn’t think so, though at the moment had no means whereby to dispute it.

  Their path wound down the side of the mountain. Snow was deep, nearly up to the horses’ hocks. Ahead lay much deeper drifts. Potbelly paused to try and find a safer way down. To one side large rocks protruded from the snow while the other dropped off sharply to a ten foot drop. Nothing for it, he nudged his horse into motion and pressed forward.

  Again the movement came in Scar’s peripheral vision. It was driving him crazy. “I tell you there’s something…”

  Potbelly reached the first snow drift and it erupted outward. A gigantic bipedal creature burst out of the snow almost beneath the hooves of his horse. Its face was bestial, eyes dark red and mouth full of fangs. Standing well over eight feet, it was covered in snow-white fur. And it’s claws; they were identical to those Scar saw in the mercantile shop.

  His horse reared and Potbelly went flying. A single swipe of the creature’s claw knocked the horse ten feet to the side; its chest a mangled mass of sinew and bone.

  The snow beast roared and four other snow drifts erupted more of its kind.

  “Here!”

  Potbelly looked up as Scar came near with hand extended. He took it and swung up behind him.

  Turning to skirt the snow beasts, Scar kicked his horse into motion.

  Snow beasts roared and moved to intercept but Scar angled toward the drop off and raced along its edge. Claws swiped but missed and the beasts raced after.

  “Oh yeah,” Scar said over his shoulder. “I forgot to mention that there are snow beasts in these mountains.”

  “No kidding,” Potbelly replied.

  They shot down the mountainside at breakneck speed. Potbelly glanced behind and saw them running in a loping gait. Sometimes on two legs, sometimes on four, they moved with great speed.

  Coming to a frozen creek bed, their horse leapt it with ease. The landing jarred Scar’s wounds something awful and he gasped. Potbelly’s arms around his middle didn’t help matters either. Ignoring the pain, he kicked his horse into even greater speed.

  Dodging boulders and downed trees, they reached the valley floor.

  “Are they still back there?” Scar hollered.

  A glance over his shoulder and Potbelly replied, “Yes. We’ve pulled ahead but not by much. We need to find a spot to make our stand.”

  It was clear the horse was not going to continue indefinitely at such speed through heavy snow carrying double. They had to find a way to shake them.

  The trail gradually widened. Then a statue appeared half buried in th
e snow. What had been a trail continued to widen until it appeared more a road than a trail.

  From out of the trees to their right, a structure appeared. Nearly buried in snow, the front of it boasted a door and it stood ajar.

  “Make for that!” hollered Potbelly.

  Scar nodded and turned his horse in that direction. The road didn’t lead to the structure so they shot through trees and snow covered bushes to reach it.

  Potbelly glanced over his shoulder. Now, instead of the six snow beasts in pursuit, there were eight. “They’re gaining!”

  “Almost there.”

  Scar pulled back on the reins at the last minute and Potbelly leapt to the ground before the horse came to a stop. Behind them, the snow beasts roared and growled, hell bent on reaching them.

  Potbelly raced to the door and threw it open. Scar kicked his horse and it bolted through. Once inside, Potbelly pulled the door closed and finding a bar, threw it shut to secure the door. A moment later came the sound of the snow beasts beating upon the other side.

  “Let me light a torch,” Potbelly said.

  Removing one of the two left in his pack, he used flint and steel. Sparks landed upon the torch’s flammable head, he blew gently upon it until it caught. As the light filled the room, they saw that they were in a relatively small building.

  Six benches sat in two rows of three facing a statue on a pedestal. The statue was of a man in a cowled robe, stooped and bent.

  “Is that T’Lea?”

  Scar took a close look. “Could be. He is normally depicted hooded and bent.”

  The evil god of torture and pain stared at them from beneath the cowl. A shiver went down Potbelly’s spine.

  A quick search revealed the door they passed through to enter was the only way in or out. There weren’t even windows.

  “Looks like just a small chapel,” Scar observed.

  Potbelly walked around to the back of the statue. He didn’t get close to it, but yet a feeling of foreboding settled over him. It felt like the statue watched them.