Lefty was scared. He was scared their plan wouldn’t work. He was scared the gnolls would see them. He was scared they were looking at the wrong tower. He was scared they would be attacked by something they couldn’t see. He was scared that something or someone had already spotted them and were waiting for them to walk into an ambush.
He just knew he was going to get the worst of it too. Somehow, someway, fate had selected him for the worst luck imaginable. He could feel it deep down in his bones.
But all those things were only the tip of the iceberg. Trapped below the surface of his fears was a general feeling of dread. The subconscious pressure of knowing something bad was about to happen. That death might be waiting on the other side of the fortress gate and he had no choice but to walk through and face it. In short, he could tell he was headed for a bad end, he just didn’t know what it was, yet.
The main problem, as Lefty saw it, was that he did not like this plan. He did not like it because it involved a lot of hiding, sneaking, and stealth, all of which fell into a specific category of skills that everyone else seemed to excel at while he did not. He was too awkward and had a tendency to trip over things or to stumble into inanimate objects and make noise. So he knew that out of all of them, he was the most likely to be caught, interrogated, tortured, executed, or any number of other terrible things he hadn’t had the time to think of yet. However, all of his protests had simply resulted in Calista asking him if he had a better plan, which had forced him to admit that he did not, which then led to them voting on this plan, which had led to him being the only one to vote “No.”
Even Feathers had voted against him, a fact that Lefty was still sore about.
So there he was, creeping behind Grumner as he tried to focus on the sleep spell that was supposed to get them past the two gnolls, while trying to ignore the thing in the back of his mind telling him that something, somewhere wanted to consume him in the most violent way imaginable. When the dwarf finally gave the signal to stop, Lefty looked out over the ranger’s shoulder to see the gnolls. One of them was dozing, the other was playing with a bug. Good, Lefty thought as he took aim, hopefully that will give them some negatives.
“Solamnum Solamnus,” he whispered as he pointed at each of the gnolls. A second later, with a snort and then a grunt, both of the gnolls were lying on the ground fast asleep. Calista and Grumner then unsheathed their knives and, staying low, prepared to relieve the gnolls of their lives.
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The route from here was little more than a stretch of bare earth decorated by a few weeds. For a distance of roughly twenty yards, they would be completely exposed. When he had first seen it, Lefty had cursed himself for not being higher level. A level four wizard could cast invisibility on one person. A level six wizard could cast invisibility sphere which would cover the entire party. At least until someone made an attack.
Now, as Calista and Grumner began to creep around the rock, Lefty had the growing sense of unease that told him this was his last chance to save the party – or at least himself – from whatever tragedy awaited them at the fortress. He couldn’t put his finger on it, he could just feel that something was wrong. He didn’t know how, what, who, or why, but something, somewhere was off. They had gotten to the fortress walls too easily. Why were the gnolls half asleep? Why weren’t the goblins on the wall paying better attention? Why were they able to hide behind nothing more than a pair of rocks without anyone noticing them? All of this ran through his head as his stomach did cartwheels and that’s when he noticed something very, very wrong.
Feathers was missing.
“Where’d the duck go?” he said quietly, nearly panicked.
Both Calista and Grumner stopped where they were as the delver gave him a look, “What do you mean, where’d your duck go?”
Lefty rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say my duck, I said the duck. It’s not my duck, he just follows me around.”
Calista’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean, it’s not your duck? How is it not your duck?”
“First off, he’s not an it, he’s a he. And second, we’ve covered this. He is not my duck, he’s just … you know … like my partner or something.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Calista said.
“I know it doesn’t make any sense. He’s just Feathers and now he’s missing.” Lefty pushed aside a piece of brush, but there was no duck underneath, “Would you just shut up and help me find him.”
Grumner interrupted, his voice soft but harsh, “Can you two stop arguing? Someone’s going to hear.”
“Yeah,” Calista whispered, “how about we let you worry about the duck while Grumner and I take care of the gnolls.”
Lefty let out a sigh of frustration as he watched Calista and the dwarf scurry around the rock. He didn’t know why, but the fear in his stomach was still growing. Something bad was about to happen and he didn’t want any part of it. Especially not without Feathers there to watch his back.
Beside him, Cat’s Eye was looking around the rocks and brush with a worried look. “I don’t see him either. Do you think he went for the door?”
“I have no idea,” Lefty said. “He does things like this sometimes. He did this back at the village when the goblins attacked and he forced me to go out and fight.”
“That’s not exactly encouraging,” Cat’s Eye grumbled.
“I know,” Lefty said. “But it always works out, just not always the way I want it to.”
Just then, as Lefty looked left and right, trying in vain to see which way Feathers had gone, he suddenly felt the gaze of something dangerous boring into his back. He couldn’t explain it, but whatever it was, it felt like the stare of something large and possible hungry. Oh no, here it is. Slowly, he turned around and found himself face to face with a four eyed black and purple dragon.
“Boo.”