The Deepcombers

Chapter Eleven

The wind shifted and all four hikers were drenched with spray from the waterfall. When they emerged from the squall they saw a timber-strewn beach and flattened trees. Something big had rolled down the mountain and smashed the woods to smithereens.  Lon looked around. Whatever it was must have disappeared under the lake for no trace remained. But his nose did detect the pungent stench of decayed flesh nearby. 

"What could cause this?" Clyde asked above the roar of the falls. He also held his nose. All four migrants surveyed the masticated timber and recoiled from the dreadful smell. Lon's nerves tingled with apprehension. This wasn't caused by any living thing he told himself; no rain forest predator could wreak such havoc. He looked back at Tharus who'd grown up in the dense jungles of Septhalon and he waved him forward. "What do you reckon?"

The reptilian bristled with pride as he moved to accept the point position. He'd investigate this brutal brake while the others followed behind.

Jarl shifted the dead fish sack to his other shoulder and rolled his eyes. He may have felt neglected. Lon knew he was the oldest and most storied warrior among them, and he was certainly the best with a blade.

The swampkin's nostrils flared and he sniffed the air like an experienced jungle tracker, but it did not require a powerful nose to smell the decomposing form that lay ahead. The lizard groped through the tangle for another ten feet where found huge animal-prints. He signaled the others, stood over the clue, and pointed to a dark hole in a lattice of toppled pines. "A bearss in there."

Lon believed him. But now what? Maybe they could kill it? But at what cost? The first granite step in the ascent he'd planned lay directly behind the creature's den.

"But we need to start our climb there."

Tharus looked at the twisted path ahead and gazed at his sword. The young lad thought he was about to say something inspirational and lead them all into danger, but instead he used it point away left. "Let'ss go around," he suggested, "and sssneak quietly". Lon smiled at the good advice and agreed. Jarl rolled his eyes again.

Everyone followed the swampkin's footsteps past the fractured trees and broken brush that barricaded the creature's realm. The four walked soft amid the chaffing-roar of the waterfall. Small twigs cracked underfoot but they were careful where they stepped and how they placed their weight as they infiltrated through the tangled habitat. 

The swampkin circumnavigated the hostile glade and his instincts lead the troop under fallen logs the others would have probably climbed over. The jungle expert let the way and they emerged safe albeit covered in mud. When Lon spotted the crumbled cliff ahead, he knew they'd successfully circled the danger zone, and they were near the right spot to start their climb. Sumac trees lined the rocky ground and their crimson coloured flower drupes marked the edge of the rain forest.

Bwwrawoar. A large animal roared. Somewhere nearby an unseen best made its displeasure known. The outburst was much louder than the waterfall, yet there was no sign of the predator. They'd been detected! They found themselves under siege from an unseen threat. All the hikers raised their swords, in four different directions, at nothing. They heard branches snap and tree-leaves swish, but the jungle was so thick with mist they still couldn't see their antagonist.

Lon pondered the predicament. He dared not begin the climb with an unknown creature behind. But on the other hand, he sure didn't want to battle the mysterious foe for no reason. What had they done wrong? How could this thing have detected them? The waterfall was a constant thunder and they'd been so quiet. They were covered in mud and so well disguised. Suddenly the answer was obvious. "It smells us!" He pointed to the sack of fish Jarl carried, its smelly contents were just starting to get ripe in the moist heat.