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

by Brian S. Pratt

  The sun arched in the sky as they made their way up the mountain. Coming onto the northern face, they saw where Garrock’s trail angled to turn more sharply toward the higher elevations. It wound its way to and fro, bypassing the first ice terrace and continued on to the second. Beyond the second terrace it was difficult to determine if the trail continued or stopped. Either way, Garrock could not be seen.

  With the increased incline, it took over an hour to reach the first ice terrace. It was majestic. A steaming pool wreathed by ice. The water would drip over the icy sides and freeze, which formed the incredible ice displays.

  Potbelly’s aching body longed to be submerged in the warm water.

  Garrock’s trail continued up to the next terrace some four hundred feet away.

  “Are you doing alright?” Scar asked.

  “Yeah,” Potbelly replied. “Let’s go get him.”

  Up the side of the mountain they continued. The next ice terrace was even larger than the one they just passed. Its icicles hung in massive sheets and in some places extended so far they had grown to be walls of ice that extended to the mountainside.

  When they finally reached them, Potbelly ran a hand along the surface, felt how thick and sturdy they were. “I bet this could kill someone if it fell on them.”

  Scar paused and glanced back. “Think we can get Garrock next to one?”

  Grinning, Potbelly replied, “We can but try.”

  The trail continued up along the ice terrace. But when they came abreast of it, found where Garrock had entered the mountain.

  A large cavern easily fifty feet tall and a little more than that wide loomed just beyond the ice terrace. Waters from the terrace coursed along the floor of the cave to disappear in its interior darkness.

  Scar sighed in relief. “Finally.”

  Potbelly took out the torch retrieved from where Scar had discarded it in the small passageway leading from the pit.

  “Not yet,” Scar said. “It might alert them.”

  “Okay,” Potbelly replied, though he kept it in hand as they entered the cave.

  They kept to the sides as they proceeded. Not knowing where Garrock would be, they didn’t want to give away their position.

  There was some light illuminating the interior of the cave; primarily coming from reflections and refractions from the terrace, the ice and snow surrounding it. As they proceeded deeper, areas of diffused light came from the ceiling and walls, almost as if it had traveled along corridors of ice from the outside. It gave the cavern an ominous feel.

  Wet footprints stood out on the stone floor of the cave. They followed them into a downward sloping tunnel. The amount of light decreased and it grew harder to see.

  “Now?” Potbelly asked, holding up the torch.

  Scar hesitated, weighing their options before shaking his head. “There is still light to see by,” he said. “Better poor vision than a bolt in the chest.”

  “As you wish.”

  They continued down the tunnel and the light grew fainter and fainter. When Scar tripped over an obstruction in the dark, he relented and gave Potbelly the go ahead to light the torch.

  Sparks illuminated the tunnel briefly each time he struck flint to steel. In the second flash of light, Scar saw the obstruction on the floor that had caused him to stumble. In the third he made out that it was roughly a foot and a half in length. The fourth strike ignited the torch and the tunnel flooded with light.

  “Gah!” Scar exclaimed, stumbling backwards.

  The sudden illumination brought the obstruction into full light. Sitting in a pool of blood was part of a human arm. Beginning just above the wrist, it ended at the shoulder.

  Scar drew his sword and quickly scanned the tunnel for what manner of beast may have done this.

  “Snow beast?”

  Scar shrugged. “Possibly. But where’s the rest of him?”

  The tunnel floor, aside from copious amounts of blood, held no further human remains. A search farther along the tunnel revealed a red smear where something had been dragged deeper into the mountain.

  They looked to each other. “Hope that was Garrock,” Scar said. The blood was fresh so whatever happened there had to have happened recently, a few hours at the most.

  Farther down, they found a score of bolts littering the tunnel. Two were embedded in the wall. “They were attacked by something,” Scar said.

  “Or some things,” added Potbelly.

  They followed the tunnel another fifty feet where they came across two swords and a mace…more blood.

  Something on the floor caught Scar’s eye. “What is that?” He went over to it and picked it up and found it to be a shirt, torn and bloody. It looked to have been ripped right off the one who wore it.

  Potbelly came close and examined it. “Garrock’s man.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I remember that one of his crossbowmen wore it.”

  “Crossbowman?” Scar asked.

  Potbelly nodded.

  “Good. That evens the odds a little.”

  Though Potbelly agreed the odds were improving in respect to Garrock and his men, what bothered him was what was doing the improving. And would it come after them next?

  They continued on.

  A second tunnel branched to their left; it angled more downward. The smear of blood from dragged bodies continued down the main tunnel. They followed the blood trail.

  Parts of men began to be seen; a hand here, bit of scalp there. Whatever did this had torn them apart.

  “I don’t like this,” Potbelly warned. “No amount of treasure is worth getting killed for.”

  Scar weighed the possibility of treasure versus the odds of encountering what had done this. A dozen armed men torn apart…him and Potbelly both suffering inhibiting wounds…he didn’t like what he came up with and it almost killed him to admit it. “You may be right. Treasure be damned.”

  Potbelly nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They turned to head back out and froze upon spying a large shadow coming toward them. A low, guttural growl resonated along the tunnel. Easily larger than a horse, it walked on four legs, had a large body and a long, serpentine neck. When it entered the torchlight, they saw stubby horns growing from its forehead and small wings sprouted upon its back. Its scaly skin was dark blue.

  “Dragon.”

  The word was barely out of Scar’s mouth before they each had drawn their weapons; Scar his two long swords, Potbelly with sword in right hand and torch in the left.

  The dragon growled as it approached.

  “Ice dragon?” Scar queried.

  “Looks like it,” Potbelly agreed.

  “Aren’t they supposed to spit frost or some such?”

  “According to the bards,” Potbelly replied. “Let’s hope they embellished.”

  The dragon’s eyes sparkled a deep blue as it stared their way. It reared its head back and roared; wedged in between two of its teeth dangled a bit of red meat.

  “Guess we know what happened to Garrock’s men.”

  “Yeah,” Scar said, continuing to walk backward.

  Then from behind came another growl. A glance over their shoulders revealed two more dragons approaching.

  “You’re right,” Scar said. “No treasure is worth this. Let’s get out of here.”

  But the way out was currently blocked by a dragon.

  “In here,” Potbelly said and ducked through a crevice in the wall. Scar followed.

  The dragons raced for the opening but their bulk kept them from passing through. One stuck its head in and roared.

  Thankfully narrow, the tunnel beyond the crevice extended twenty feet before ending at another one similar to the one now full of dragons. They paused and quickly scanned for dragons. The tunnel was clear and sloped up to the right. They turned right and followed the tunnel up.

  They went less than twenty feet before a roar sounded up ahead. It was quickly followed by the eme
rgence of two dragons. Whether they were the same ones as before was hard to tell. Turning about, they ran for their lives.

  From up ahead another dragon appeared and they ducked down a smaller side passage. Though not as large as the main tunnel, it was still wide enough to accommodate a single dragon. They ran down it, realizing as they did that the passage angled down, deeper into the mountain. But looking back at the dragon hot on their tails, they had little choice.

  Suddenly the passage branched; left angled up, right angled down. They went left. Fifty feet it narrowed greatly until they were forced to continue in single file. Scar led the way.

  It continued to narrow until they had to turn sideways just to make it through. It continued for a ways further until it began widening. The air turned warmer and the humidity level rose. The tunnel opened onto a pool of hot water. Bubbling and hissing, it put off a great deal of heat.

  Along the edge ran a thin stony shelf. Scar put a foot on it and tested it for strength. When it held, he put his full body weight upon it and worked his way around to the beginning of another tunnel.

  “We need to get out of here,” Potbelly urged.

  Scar shot him a glare that said, Stop saying the obvious.

  The tunnel wound back and forth as it climbed upward. Hoping it would lead them from this nest of dragons, they hurried along it.

  Fifty feet down, it made an abrupt turn to the left. Scar raced around the corner and practically ran right into a dragon.

  Its mouth shot for him and he knocked it aside with the flat side of his blade. Bringing his other sword into play, he landed a solid blow along the beast’s neck. The blade skittered off its protective scaling doing minimal damage.

  Its head shot back toward him and he backpedaled into Potbelly, knocking him off his feet.

  Roaring, the dragon scrambled forward, its little wings flapping to no avail. Its head weaved back and forth on its long neck, then shot for Potbelly who was in the midst of picking himself up off the tunnel floor.

  He saw the mouth open and the dagger-like teeth reach for him. Twisting out of the way, he thrust the torch into its mouth causing it to rear backward and roar.

  Scar came up beside it and while it roared, thrust his sword into its open mouth. Teeth shattered and dragon blood erupted as he scored a solid hit in the tender flesh of the beast’s mouth.

  Roaring and thrashing, the dragon twisted. Scar pressed the attack and pierced an eye. Potbelly rushed forward and when the beast reared back its head in another ear-shattering roar, thrust upward through the roof of its mouth.

  He felt the blade hit the top of the dragon’s skull. He twisted the blade and pulled it free. The dragon thrashed for a moment then laid still.

  Scar nodded to Potbelly. “Good work.”

  “We killed a dragon!” he exclaimed, then laughed.

  “No one will believe it.”

  Roars from behind forced them to leave their kill behind and race to find an exit.

  The tunnel opened up and on their right, the tunnel wall changed from solid rock to a series of stone columns. Once stalactites, over time they had grown to the floor and formed columns. A golden glow shone from the other side of the rocky columns.

  Scar came to a halt.

  “We can’t stop,” Potbelly said, glancing over his shoulder toward the as yet unseen dragons.

  Standing transfixed, Scar looked to the piles of golden coins beyond the columns. “The treasure,” he whispered in awe.

  “Scar, we have to get out of here!”

  “I’m not leaving without something,” he said and then stepped toward the columns.

  Potbelly grabbed his arm. “We need to leave.”

  Scar shrugged off his hand and passed through the columns.

  Rolling his eyes and fearing this will cost them greatly, he hurried after.

  Piles of coins sat at regular intervals throughout a very large cavern. Each pile was the same size with the same amount of space between it and its neighbors. There were not only piles of gold coins, but of silver, copper and platinum.

  Scar’s eyes widened at the platinum coins. He stepped forward and picked one up. “I’ve never even seen one.”

  The dragons had arrived at the columns. Their heads passed through but their bodies were too wide. They hissed and roared as they tried to reach them.

  “Put…that…back.”

  A voice deep as the mountains caused them to turn and face the largest single creature they had ever seen. Similar to those that had chased them, this dragon was ancient; with horns stretching over ten feet, wings larger than a ship’s sail, and teeth that would rival trees.

  Its long neck brought its face toward Scar who stood in terror-induced paralysis, a feeling he had never before experienced. “I said, put that back.”

  Scar stared into an eye larger than his head. Somehow finding the will to move, he dropped the coin back onto the pile.

  -18-

  Scar quaked in his boots. He’d never been so afraid of anything in his life. One bite, one snap of those enormous jaws and he would be history.

  “Are you looking for your fellows?”

  They tried to speak but words failed them.

  “They are not here,” the dragon said. “They encountered my children first.” The dragon raised its head and looked from Scar to Potbelly, then back.

  “Are they dead?”

  Turning its gaze to Potbelly, the dragon said, “Entering a dragon’s lair has its drawbacks.” A deep chuckle reverberated throughout the cavern; its vibration dislodged stacks of coins.

  “We are sorry for troubling you,” Potbelly said, then grabbed Scar’s arm and drew him back a step. “We will be happy to leave and trouble you no more.”

  “Trouble? No, you are not trouble to me. I find you rather… diverting.”

  Scar’s paralysis waned and he found he could move again. He glanced to Potbelly, then back to the dragon. His tried to speak but it only came out in a squeak.

  “My name is Potbelly,” Potbelly said. “This is my friend, Scar.”

  “Interesting…yes quite interesting that you would have names of inflictions. I do not believe I have before encountered anyone with such odd sounding names. But then, I rarely enjoy the opportunity to have discourse with others.”

  For the first time since the dragon’s appearance, Potbelly entertained the possibility that their deaths were not imminent. “They are more nicknames than those given at the time of our births.”

  “Ah, yes. Such is the custom of you humans.”

  “And what should we call you, oh grandest of all dragons?”

  A deep bass laugh echoed throughout the cavern. “I wonder if that is true. Am I the grandest?”

  In the pause following the question, Scar and Potbelly wondered if the dragon wanted an answer of if he was just musing to itself. Before they could decide whether to answer or not, the dragon continued.

  “As you have names other than your true ones, so shall you use…Reginald when speaking to me.”

  Scar glanced to Potbelly and mouthed, What?

  “Reginald?” Potbelly questioned the dragon as if they hadn’t heard correctly.

  “Yes. I have always liked that name. Two thousand, no, seventeen hundred and six years ago the first human to enter my lair was named Reginald. He too was…diverting.”

  The smaller dragons continued to hiss from the far side of the stone columns. Reginald turned his head toward them and let out a long, deep hiss. They quieted.

  “Please accept my pardon,” Reginald said. “My children have yet to mature.”

  “Your children?” Scar asked. The one they had killed flashed through his mind as well as the fear of what Reginald may do should he learn of it.

  “Yes, I have many. Not all will live to maturity.” He turned one of his massive eyes upon Scar. “Will they?”

  Scar froze. Had he read my mind?

  Reginald chuckled again in that deep, base voice.

  “Yes,” he
mused, “diverting indeed.”

  “What do you plan to do with us?” Potbelly asked.

  “Do? That I have yet to decide.” He paused as if reflecting upon some inner thought, then asked, “Should I come to a decision right this moment?”

  “Uh, no,” Scar replied. “Please, by all means, take your time.”

  Again Reginald’s rumbling laugh filled the cavern, but then it cut off abruptly. His head moved to Potbelly and he took a great inhalation of air through his nostrils.

  “There is something about you.” Again he breathed in through his nostrils. “Yes, something from long ago.”

  Potbelly felt like a meat pie fresh from the oven the way Reginald smelled him. The experience was altogether unnerving.

  “Tieguanyin?”

  Scar glanced to Potbelly confused. “Tieguanyin?”

  Potbelly thought a moment. “The tea!”

  “Tea, yes,” Reginald said. “A most exhilarating mixture to be sure.”

  Scrambling to get his pack off, he quickly dug through it and pulled out the box containing the dried Tieguanyin leaves. He opened it. “We would love to share this with you.”

  “Hmmm,” Reginald murmured. “First, you must tell me what brought you here. Did you come to steal my treasure?”

  Potbelly glanced to Scar who was shaking his head and mouthing, say no! then turned back to the dragon. His knees were weak but knew what he had to do. Taking a calming breath, he said, “We did come for the treasure, that part is true.”

  Reginald’s head rose and his eyes narrowed.

  “However…,” Potbelly began then saw Scar bracing for death. “However, we thought the treasure abandoned and forgotten. Had we known that someone laid claim to it, we would not have sought it out. We are not thieves, rather seekers of lost items of antiquity.”

  “Lost items of antiquity,” Reginald said, then gave forth with his rumbling chuckle. “You can turn a phrase, I’ll give you that.” Lowering his head, he brought his eye once again to just before Potbelly. “You speak truth, human. Thieves, you are not.” He turned his eye upon Scar, “At least not in this instance.”