Once Around the Realms

Chapter 12

The Minnow continued its gradual trip downward toward the slope of the volcano they were approaching. Though the ship was falling at a reasonably safe speed, all crew members had immediately switched to emergency stations. Curtis took control of the wheel, trying to steer the ship toward a plateau that seemed to jut from the side of the volcanic mountain, while Volo alternated between throttling Grumby and trying to control Passepout, who was in an advanced stage of panic.

"We're all going to die!" screamed the chubby thespian. "Man was not meant to fly!"

"Shut up, you coward!" screamed the dwarf, barely managing to remain out of arm's distance of Volo

"Calm down, son of Idle and Catinflas!" Volo ordered, sternly yet calmly, then, switching to a tone of total belligerence, turned to Grumby and screamed, "If we get out of here alive, I'm going to beat you within an iota of your smelly hide!"

"Promises, promises," the dwarf retorted.

The airship's passengers could feel the hot and humid air wafting up from the jungle below.

Curtis yelled back to Volo from the helm, "We're still going down!"

"Why are we losing altitude?" Volo demanded of the dwarf.

"Well, I guess the rod that causes the ship to levitate might have lost its charge," the dwarf replied, again scratching his beard.

"You guess?" the enraged Volo retorted.

"We're all going to die!" the chubby thespian repeated.

"I'll try to bring us in for as smooth a landing as possible," Curtis called back as he tried to maintain control of the helm.

"I guess we'll just have to walk home from here," the dwarf taunted, enjoying the prospect of mixing it up with Volo, as only a dwarf could really enjoy a fight.

"Why, you…," Volo replied.

"We're all going to die!" Passepout reiterated.

"Land ho!" Curtis announced.

Thud!

All of the ship's passengers were thrown off their feet as the ship came to rest on the very edge of the volcanic plateau. Curtis had barely managed to steer the ship away from the uneven surface of the mountainside, which no doubt would have smashed the ship to bits.

"Safe at last!" Passepout announced, jumping to a conclusion that would soon prove to be erroneous.

Kwaaaahk! An unearthly scream pierced the humid mists of the mountainside.

"What was that?" cried the thespian, ready to resume panicking.

"Sounds like a pteradon," Volo replied, "one of the thunder lizards."

Kwaaaahk! The scream was repeated, its owner still obscured by the humid mists.

"Sounds awful," the thespian cried.

"I think they are herbivores," Volo answered.

"Come again?" Grumby queried.

"Noncarnivorous, plant eaters," the master traveler explained.

"Wonderful," Passepout replied.

Curtis swung down from the helm to join the other passengers of the now-landed airship. "Sorry for the rough ride," he apologized.

"I could have brought us down safely," Grumby grumbled, "if any one would have let me."

"The way you knew how to navigate this ship?" Volo replied.

"So I made a wrong turn," the dwarf muttered.

Volo realized that to act on his anger would be futile and would only succeed in wasting precious minutes that could be applied to solving their current predicament. They could not afford to remain precariously balanced on the mountainside, nor could they really walk home as Grumby had laughingly suggested. And even if his memory was right, and pteradons were vegetarians, he was more than aware that many of Chult's inhabitants weren't.

"We have to come up with a plan to get out of here," Volo announced.

"You have a keen grasp of the obvious," Grumby retorted. "I guess that's why you're a big-shot author, or so you say."

"Quiet!" Volo ordered, taking command of the ship away from the incompetent dwarf. The master traveler paused for a moment to survey their position and the condition of the ship. It was hot and humid the bug-infested jungle that surrounded their mountainside clearing hardly made for a comfortable resting place.

"Curtis," he ordered, "check out the condition of the ship, masts, sail bags, levitation rod, etc."

"Aye, aye, Captain," replied the youth, tossing a mock salute before he scurried back to the helm.

"Passepout, check out the ship's stores. If Grumby lied about his ability to navigate, we can't assume that he didn't lie about the extent of our provisions."

"Yes, Mister Volo, but do you mind if I grab a bit of lunch as I take inventory?" the thespian answered, once again aware of the rumbling in his stomach. "Crash landings always give me an appetite."

"Later," Volo ordered. "And also let me know what nonfood supplies we have below."

"Aye, aye, sir," Passepout replied half-heartily, his own groans over not eating joining the involuntary chorus of rumbles from his stomach as he went below to follow orders.

"Now you," said Volo, trying to retain control of his temper as he addressed the dwarf, "what do you really know about how this ship works?"

"Just what I told you," the dwarf grumbled. "No more, no less."

The two adversaries just stared at each other until they were rejoined by Curtis and Passepout.

"The masts, helm, and sailbag seem to be intact," Curtis reported, "but the levitation rod seems to have split a hole in the bottom of the hull. Good thing we weren't over water when we started to drop. She would have sunk for sure."

"Who cares?" the dwarf chided. "I can swim."

"Probably the way you can navigate," Passepout replied, trying to mask a mouth full of food. "Our provisions should do us for about a week and a half"

"There's at least four months' worth down there!" Grumby argued.

"Maybe for you," Passepout replied with a burp. "There are also several casks of glue and paint."

"All part of giving the Minnow a face-lift," the dwarf volunteered.

"Well," Volo observed, "whatever let out that screech seems to have gone away, so I guess we are safe for the time being."

Rumble. Rumble.

"Excuse me," Passepout apologized.

"I'm afraid that wasn't your stomach," Volo corrected. "I think it was the volcano."

Rumble. Rumble.

"She's going to erupt!" Grumby screamed.

"We're all going to die!" Passepout chimed in.

"Not just yet," Volo countered. "Curtis, ever take any geology classes?"

"No, sir," the lad replied sheepishly.

"I thought not," Volo said, confident that he had indeed seen through the story of the lad's education, "but I did, and before a volcano blows, there are numerous rumblings and other geological manifestations that may never culminate in an actual eruption."

"Geological manifestations?" Passepout queried.

A hot-air geyser sprang up from the rock of the plateau beneath the ship, fortunately escaping through the existing rupture in the hull.

"Like that," Volo replied. "Lucky for us there was the break in the hull, or the sheer force of the hot air escaping from the ground could have lifted us up and over the side of the plateau, or at least unseated us from this fairly firm base."

Passepout became extremely excited, but couldn't quite get his explanation out. "Look!" he finally screamed.

All eyes turned to him.

"Not at me," he cried. "At the sail!"

The other passengers of the Minnow turned around to behold the object of the thespian's excitement.

The geyser's hot air was inflating the sailbag, which was beginning to lift the ship.

"Quickly!" Volo ordered. "Throw down a hook to keep us in place!"

"Aye, aye," said Grumby. He released a lever that activated the lowering of anchorlike grapples to the ground below. "That was a close call, we would have gone over the side for sure."

Passepout looked at the inflating sailbag and had an idea.

"Mister Volo," the thespian offered, "I remember when I was once working on a show with my parents, Idle and Catinflas, the famous thespians, that I helped out with some of the set decorations.

The set designer was an elf, and he used hot air to inflate bags of colored paper, which would then float in the air around the stage. Perhaps we could do something similar here."

"If we can get the ship aloft and on an even keel," Curtis asserted, "I'm sure I can helm her back toward the east."

"Capital idea!" Volo exclaimed. "Curtis, you and I will unfoul the rigging so that the sailbag can continue to inflate evenly. Once it appears to be full, we can use the paint and glue that Passepout found below to make a sealing paste to take care of any slow leaks or ruptures in the sail skin."

"What do you want me to do?" Passepout asked, instantly regretting that he had spoken up.

"I want you and Grumby to find something to cover that hole in the hull. Once the sailbag is inflated, we have to be able to stopper it. So scout around the immediate area… and hurry. I might have been overly optimistic about the amount of time we have, volcanically speaking, that is."

The thespian and the dwarf grumbled as they took off for their assignment, as much about their assigned companion as about the duty itself. Passepout decided they should follow a path through the brush that would circle around the ship so that at least he would not fall prey to retracing his steps.

"Superstitious, are you," the dwarf commented upon hearing the thespian's concern about doubling back.

"Something like that," he replied, not wanting to further explain. He did not trust the dwarf and had no desire to supply him with any information that could be used against him or Volo.

"You know, that kid Curtis is pretty smart," the dwarf continued, purposely trying to provoke the overweight and out-of-shape thespian, who was having a difficult time getting though the hot, humid rain forest brush that occupied the jungle side of the volcanic mountain.

"Well, I was the one who figured out about the sailbag, and the hot air!" the thespian contended indignantly.

"I would have expected you to be an expert on hot air," replied the belligerent dwarf, "since you are so full of it."

Passepout was about to reply with a similarly discourteous remark about the dwarf's body odor when he heard the approach of footsteps in the brush.

"Quiet!" the thespian whispered, then, indicating a break in the shrubbery, ordered, "Let's hide here."

The fat thespian and the foul-odored dwarf crammed into the small break in the foliage that, despite the mutual discomfort of the two explorers, nevertheless managed to safely hide their combined bulk while providing them with a clear line of vision at the source of the overheard footsteps.

"Look!" Grumby ordered.

"Hush!" Passepout replied.

Walking along the path they had taken no less than seconds before were several lizard men. Obviously native to the jungle, the four in the lead were at least ten feet tall, with tiny scales covering their bare, olive-green torsos they trudged along on talon-clawed feet. They were carrying what appeared to be the appendages of a recently slaughtered thunder lizard, the meat still left on the bone for the upcoming meal causing their razor-toothed mouths to water. Bringing up the rear was the runt of the litter, only six feet tall, who was struggling with the silvery-gray hide of the recently slaughtered prey.

"Lizard men," Passepout whispered to his cramped companion of the moment.

"Kinda funny-lookin', though," Grumby responded in a similar tone. "Where are their tails?"

Passepout, ignoring the dwarfs question, whispered as the hunters passed, "I bet we could use that hide to both seal the rupture in the hull and reflect the sun's rays upward to keep the air hot in the sailbag itself."

Grumby couldn't control himself, and started to laugh. "I've never heard such rubbish," the dwarf howled.

The runt of the lizard men stopped in his tracks and, without notifying his brethren but still bearing the skin, returned to the spot he thought he heard the laughter coming from.

Both the dwarf and the thespian hushed. Unfortunately, Passepout had to sneeze and couldn't hold it any longer. "Atchoo!" he roared, scaring the native, who dropped the thunder lizard's skin and took off after his comrades.

"Well, that was easy enough," the thespian commented.

"Oh, yeah," the dwarf retorted. "I bet he's just gone to bring back company."

Grumby was right, and by the time the two novice explorers, the thunder lizard's skin carried between them, could see the inflated sailbag floating above the plateau clearing before them, they could hear the footsteps of the lizard hunter and his buddies in hot pursuit.

The incline of the terrain, the humid climate, the bulky lizard hide, and the less-than-athletic physiques of both Grumby and Passepout all succeeded in slowing the duo. With the balloon in sight and with one last thicket blocking their way back to the ship, the lizard men had almost caught up with them.

Rumble! Rumble!

The ground beneath them began to shake, and Grumby and Passepout were pitched forward into the clearing.

Barooooom!

The humid mists that enshrouded the plateau instantaneously cleared as the volcano above started to erupt, spewing flames, molten rock, and clouds of ash down the mountainside.

Volo leaned over the side of the ship to help Passepout aboard. "Back in the nick of time," Volo gratefully professed.

"Hope so," the out-of-breath thespian replied. "The lizard skin… we can use it to stop the hole…"

"Perfect," Volo answered. "Curtis, take the skin and seal the hatch above where the rupture is."

"Skin… shiny side up," Passepout panted.

"As he says," Volo ordered. "Grumby take the helm, and get us out of here!"

"Aye, aye, you…" the dwarf replied, mumbling an inaudible curse.

In the time it took for the patch to be fixed in place and for Grumby to take the helm, the tailless lizard men, having regained their balance after the initial tremor, broke into the clearing.

"Take off now!" Passepout yelled.

… and the Minnow, with Grumby at the helm, responded, leaving the plateau surface, which was quickly cracking in two, volcanic fissures reaching out from the spot where the first geyser had appeared.

Looking down at the plateau below, Volo noticed the scrambling forms of the lizard men, who were trying to avoid falling into the recently formed crevices. "Who are they?" he asked his quickly recovering companion.

"The owners of the thunder lizard's skin that we borrowed," Passepout replied.

"Borrowed?"

"In a manner of speaking," the thespian answered. "It's not like we stole it or anything. The runt dropped it, and we appropriated it."

"I see," the master traveler replied, looking back at the plateau's surface. "You mean the smallest one of the group-the one who is only now sprouting wings to join the others, who are flying after us."

"What?" the shocked thespian responded, ignoring his vertigo and joining Volo in staring back from whence they came.

The lizard creatures, having recovered from the shock of the volcanic eruption, had taken to the air, and in the process had polymorphed into a form for flying, with wings that stretched fifteen feet from point to point.

Kwaaaahk! the leader screamed.

"Those weren't lizard men," Volo yelled. "They were pteramen. Grumby, get us out of here as fast as possible. Everyone else, battle stations."

Passepout and Curtis joined in a chorus of aye-ayes, while the disgruntled dwarf could be heard grumbling something about being suitable to navigate the ship under these circumstances.

Passepout and Volo armed themselves with oars and proceeded to bludgeon any of the pteramen who tried to board the ship in midflight. The lizards' bodies were surprising light, easily thrown back over the side of the ship, where they fell to the ground. Curtis had armed himself with one of the ship's anchors, which he proceeded to throw through the air, conking the approaching flyers in midair and throwing them off-course.

The battle was going fine until three pteramen reached the deck at the same time. The master traveler and the thespian did their best to fight off the intruders. Volo managed to throw one overboard, but another had locked the chubby thespian in an embrace and was threatening to drag him over the side as well.

Thinking quickly, Curtis lassoed Passepout with the anchor rope seconds before he and his attacker went overboard. When the rope went taut upon reaching its end, the vibration separated the two attackers, and the pteraman fell to the ground below, while the thespian hung, panicking, in midair. "Help! Help!" the thespian screamed. "The rope is going to break."

The rope held fast while the battle with the final attacker on board continued.

The last of the pteramen, the runt, had poly-morphed back to his terrestrial form and was trying to reclaim the hide, which was being used as a plug. Curtis threw a net over him, as Volo subdued him with the last remaining oar.

The pteramen, wrapped in the net, passed into unconsciousness.

"I'm glad that's over," Curtis remarked.

"Good flying, Crumby," Volo called to the dwarf, who muttered something unintelligible in return.

"Help!" Passepout cried, still hanging a good fifteen feet below the boat.

"I guess we should drag him in," Volo replied.

"Yeah," agreed Curtis, "but you should have seen the one that got away."

The master traveler and the teenage urchin continued to laugh as they hauled in their heavy shipmate.

No sooner had he reached the deck than Passepout passed out, only to open his eyes moments later to find himself staring into the eyes of the net-bound pteraman.

Once again he screamed… and passed out.

By nightfall they had put the subcontinent of Chult well behind them, as they proceeded to fly farther eastward and to the north.

Passepout was cheered for his heroic exploits. Not only did he procure the reflective thunder lizard skin, assist in the defense of the ship, and hold on to the anchor line until the others were able to haul him in, but he also took the time, while suspended in midair, to fling one of the recently turned gems into the mouth of the erupting volcano. He had earned a tourist's rest and was taking advantage of it.

Curtis was a fast learner and soon was a better master of the helm than Grumby.

Volo charted their progress over the deserts, towns, and cities of Faerun by posting the enchanted map that Khelben had given them, so as to notice if they veered off course at the earliest possible dropping of a gem (a maneuver that would have saved their side trip to Chult had he thought of it earlier).

Grumby, surprisingly, spent all of his time either practicing macrame or conversing (if it could be called that) with the captive pteraman, who had settled into a quiet existence of a prisoner on board ship. Grumby also took responsibility for the caring and feeding of the creature, who, without the support of its allies, was extremely docile and well-behaved.

"Now, eat this, little buddy," Grumby would instruct it at feeding time. "Do what Grumby says."

The pteraman was also the only one on board who didn't seem to mind the dwarfs odor, and during times of rain, it was allowed to share the dwarfs cabin.

One morning, Curtis, who was scheduled for morning duty, woke Volo and Passepout with a start. "Mister Volo, Mister Passepout!" he shouted. "Grumby and the pteraman are gone."

The master traveler and the thespian rushed to the side to see if they could see the missing duo. Volo spied a moving dot in the distance. Using his traveler's spyglass, Volo focused on the dot.

Flying through the air in the distance was Grumby, astride the pteraman, a makeshift harness and bridle fashioned from the dwarfs macrame.

"Son of a golem!" Volo exclaimed in disbelief.

"He left this note," Curtis revealed.

Volo took the note and read its contents out loud. "Volo (if that is your real name) and deadweight, I've trained the pteraman as my mount and plan on flying it to Tantras, where I can put it on exhibition. With the loss of the ship's magic, our bond is null and void. So long, suckers. You'll never make it to Kara-Tur."

"A charmer to the end," Passepout commented. "… but how did he manage to train it? I thought dinosaurs were wild and untrainable monsters."

"Not true," Volo replied. "I remember reading about a race of albino dwarves who spent their lives mining in the mountains of Chult. Perhaps it was in the writings of Artus Cimber…"

"But what does that have to do with…" the impatient thespian demanded as the dot grew smaller and smaller to the naked eye.

"I was getting to that," Volo replied. "These dwarves supposedly had domesticated smaller dinosaurs to do hauling work in and out of the mines. Perhaps dwarves just have some sort of ability in this area."

"Well, good riddance," the thespian replied.

"… and nothing but more fragrant air space ahead," concluded the master traveler.