As Terry rose in the air, she saw that she had become the prey of a giant eagle, its wings flapping mightily as it carried her in the air. The winged beast joined its partner, and Terry saw that Gregor was clutched in its talons.

“Don’t struggle!” Terry said.

“Don’t worry,” Gregor replied, his face turning green. The mountains spread out below them like a toy in a prince’s playroom, finely detailed and beautiful, yet child-sized from their terrible height. The eagles flapped their wings methodically, carrying their tasty prey to their hungry fledglings. Terry tried to prepare herself mentally for the challenge that was to come—if the eagle didn’t drop her.

“Terry!” Gregor screamed, and to her horror, she saw that the giant woodsman had slipped out of the eagle’s claws!

“No!” Terry cried, and the eagle swooped down like lightning, intent upon keeping his prey. It was something to see. With great relief, Terry saw that it caught Gregor again—he had fallen a few hundred feet. The eagle climbed with him slowly, and he was out of earshot until they both arrived at the eerie where the eagles kept their nest. They tumbled into the soft feathery ground, in a tiny nook chiseled into a massive, sheer cliff, and the eagles flew away.

“Are you okay?” Terry asked. Gregor lay face up, looking even more ghastly than he had when they rescued him from the gallows.

“I hate heights,” he moaned.

They were surrounded by giant eggs—eggs almost as large as they were.

“We must be on the menu as their first meal,” Terry said.

“That’s what I figure,” a wan voice added from the shadows.

“Maurice?” Terry said.

“Yeah,” Maurice said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Suddenly, one of the eggs shuddered and rolled.

“We don’t have much time til they hatch,” Terry said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maurice responded, with a despondency that was quite unlike him. “There’s no escape. Even if we could defend ourselves against whatever horror is about to hatch out of these eggs, we’d dash our brains out trying to escape. And we can’t climb up—there’s no foothold for hundreds of feet.”

“Well, we can’t just give up!” Terry said, as another egg lurched and rolled. She peered over the side of the nest. Her heart sank as she could easily see that Maurice’s estimation seemed about right. Their narrow enclave was quite an exception to the sheerness of the cliff as it stretched out both below and above them. There was no way to climb down, and no way to climb up. They had no flying magic, and Maurice’s orbs couldn’t protect against a regular common fall to the ground.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Terry tried to stay calm, and kept looking around, desperate for a solution. When she turned her head to the right, she saw something that gave her the faintest flicker of hope.

“Look at that crack in the cliff’s face, over there,” she said.

Maurice followed her gaze, and saw a long, narrow crack about 20 feet to the right. The cliffside faced west, and the setting sun was shining directly upon it. It was impossible to tell if it was just a crevice, or if it might lead somewhere.

“Even if it leads to a cave, how can we get over there—fly?” Maurice said. Gregor had still not opened his eyes.

“I’m going to climb over,” Terry said. “I can do it.”

“I can’t,” Gregor said, sitting up. “Also, you’re going to what?”

“Don’t you have a coil of rope?”

“Yes,” Maurice said. “It’s part of my gear—you always need rope for mountains.”

“Tie it here—” she said, indicating a rock on the edge of the cliff—“and around my waist, and I’ll edge over. I’m light, and I can see some tiny footholds. I’ll make it. Once I get over, I’ll check out the cave. If it’s big enough, I can secure the rope, and the two of you can use it to help you get over.”

“Oh, no,” Gregor said. “That’s the best plan?”

“I’m afraid so,” Maurice said. He handed the rope over to Terry. “We wouldn’t even be in this mess if I had listened to you in the first place.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Terry said. “Let’s just fix it.”

She slipped off her shoes, the better to feel the cliff’s edge. Then she secured the rope around her waist, and stepped over the edge of the nest. The first foothold was the biggest, and she lingered there for a moment, then took a deep breath, and hugging the sheer side of the cliff, edged her foot over into the next tiny crevice. Then, she gently shifted her weight over onto her leading foot, and moved a little bit forward. Now she was well out of reach of the nest. Now she was truly on her own.

The next foothold barely held her big toe. She balanced on it precariously, her cheek flush against the side of the cliff. Then she gripped the sheer cliffside with her fingers and in a flash switched her foot from right to left. Maybe now she was about a quarter of the way there.

As she continued edging her way towards the crevice, she could hear the sickening sound of shells breaking, as the huge eggs began to hatch.

“Not much time, Terry!” Maurice said. He could see a cruel beak emerging from one of the eggs, and then a piercing eye. Meanwhile, Terry edged closer to her goal. The sun beat on her, and she felt herself began to sweat. Her hands were getting slippery. She paused in her tiny foothold and dragged the palm of her hand against the cliff edge. It didn’t do much, but it helped a little. Just a couple more footholds, and she would be there. She edged one more foot closer to her goal, as the hatching began in earnest. She could hear the mewling chirps of the giant fledglings. Soon, they would attack her friends, as she clung to the edge of the cliff. She looked desperately for the one last foothold that would take her in arms reach of the crevice. But she couldn’t see anything that would support her weight.

“I think maybe you should draw your sword,” she heard Maurice say to Gregor, in the nest.