"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.
Chapter 13
Life on board the eastbound airship Minnow quickly fell into an agreeable routine for all concerned. Curtis manned the wheel, maintaining a northeasterly course over Faerun as charted by Volo, who used the enchanted map, with its illuminated trail that maintained the path of their journey. Volo also made use of his handy portable charts and maps, the very necessary kit pack of a master traveler. Passepout became the nominal cook of the trio, spending most of his time preparing (and consuming) a variety of tasty dishes from the rather bland stocks and stores of the ship. Occasionally he would also go fishing for fowl with the net that had formerly confined the pteraman of Chult, he would scoop up an occasional member of a flock that ventured too close to the side or below the passing airship.
Across the Shining Plains, over the Sea of Fallen Stars, and far above Aglarond, the party made their way eastward with the occasional gem thrown overboard to mark their path on the enchanted map and on the surface of Toril far below. With high winds at their backs and a semi-regular current of thermals below, Volo anticipated smooth sailing ahead. Next stop: Kozakura in Kara-Tur, where provisions could be gathered before they continued their aerial journey eastward across the uncharted Eastern Sea. Unless, of course, Passepout had consumed their seemingly inexhaustible stores of foodstuffs prior to their arrival at their expected destination.
As time passed, Volo witnessed a gradual change in the young beachcombing urchin, Curtis. Though still maintaining a certain degree of respectfulness toward the master traveler, the lad quickly became a thorn in Passepout's side, playing tricks on him, joking about his girth, and in general acting like a kid. Passepout responded in kind, promoting a misplaced sibling rivalry between the two for the attention of the well-traveled father figure.