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Gredchen kept the maps and occasionally called out landmarks or an estimate of how far they had gone. They were the baron’s maps, after all, and with some convincing, Theodenes stopped fighting Gredchen for them and let Gredchen manage them.

The sellsword came up behind the other two, his hand on Lifecleaver, waiting for the Sword Chorus to reappear. He hadn’t fought a battle or engaged in any kind of violent encounter without them for many years. The thought of them vanishing forever made his nerves twitch.

The sellsword felt as if he were walking along a damp, green tunnel. Broad-leaved trees dominated the lower levels of the jungle, rising to about twice his height. Between them, enormous trunks, wide at the base and tapering upward, reached far above the smaller trees and formed the canopy above. Vines, creepers, and flowering plants clustered about the larger trees, and while the road was cleared of vegetation, those who maintained it hadn’t bothered to keep the branches from knotting together overhead.

Several hours passed; daylight threatened to turn into night ahead of schedule. Theodenes would stop from time to time to pull a leaf from a creeper near the road or run his fingers through the packed mud and dirt below their feet or sniff at the air. The sellsword remembered Theo being an excellent tracker-for a gnome.

Had he not been ruminating idly, Vanderjack would have noticed the sudden emergence from the trees above of something large and hairy before whatever it was had scooped up Theodenes and swung away, screeching.

“Ackal’s Teeth!” shouted Vanderjack, running up to Gredchen. “Get down, we’re under attack!”

The baron’s aide did as she was told, crouching low and off to the side, beside the base of one of the enormous banyan trees. Vanderjack stood over her, his sword drawn out-still no Sword Chorus. “To the Abyss with you, then!” he swore. “I’m still the best swordsman in Nordm-”

He was cut off as another large shape slammed into him, knocking him clear off his feet and on top of Gredchen. He fought for his breath, but it was just as elusive as the ghosts.

“Watch it!” shouted Gredchen. “Who were you talking to, anyway? Do you think those things are in a mood to negotiate?”

Two more shapes dropped from the trees. Vanderjack got a good look at them: apes, much bigger and larger than he was, with strong, muscular legs and two sets of arms. Their broad mouths were filled with teeth, trailing spittle. Their eyes were red and fixed on the sellsword and his erstwhile traveling companion.

“Girallons,” muttered Vanderjack. “Perfect.”

As the four-armed apes charged at him, Vanderjack decided that, magic armor or not, another blow like the last one would probably do more than knock the wind out of his lungs. Images of a disemboweled mercenary and his similarly eviscerated traveling companions danced in his mind. A reclaimed breath later, Vanderjack’s world exploded in hair, claws, and a great deal of cursing.

Theodenes flew through the trees.

One moment the gnome had been ascertaining the likelihood of a certain fruit-bearing vine to provide edible comestibles; the next he was whisked away in the hairy arms of a gigantic ape. The creature was unlike anything he’d seen before, or rather, it was very much like something he’d read of before but never dreamed of glimpsing in real life.

Girallons were enormous, four-armed simians written about in some of the bestiaries Theo’s expedition had taken with them to the Isle of Gargath. The books had spoken of their wickedly sharp claws, huge fangs, formidable strength, and multiple arms, and that they were capable of lifting a gnome-sized object from the ground and carrying it off through an arboreal environment at great speed.

Well, thought Theodenes. That much is very true.

The expedition to Gargath had not come across any girallons, for which Theodenes had been grateful. Doing battle against such things as behirs and saber-toothed tigers was bad enough. At least then, thought the gnome, he’d had his weapon with him.

For Theodenes’ multifunction polearm was missing. He knew he’d had it on him at the time he was taken, but in the rapid treetop transit that ensued, it had slipped out of his hands and tumbled into the darkness below. That presented the gnome with a problem of titanic proportions. He was going to have to deal with his girallon captor without the aid of any martial tool, and given the nature of his lifequest, that was quite a substantial setback.

The girallon swung and leaped and ducked and threw itself from branch to branch, all of its limbs in feverish use other than the one firmly grasping Theodenes. Every so often that limb would toss Theo ahead to free up the arm for complicated maneuvering as the girallon ducked under a low branch; then the limb caught the gnome on the other side.

After four such hair-raising toss-and-catch episodes, Theodenes resolved to make the best of an awkward situation and use the next instance to break free of the creature. He hadn’t seen any other girallons, so it was possible the beast was alone. If it had friends, perhaps they were at that moment dealing with Vanderjack and Gredchen. Anyway, Theo was alone, so was the girallon, and it was time to act.

Dusk was swiftly approaching, so Theo was grateful that the next time the girallon threw him ahead through the trees came sooner than later. The creature swung Theo around and hurled him in a high arc across a wide gap between trees. That was the opportunity he was waiting for.

Spinning end over end, he gained his bearings, reached out for a hanging vine, and grasped onto it successfully before the curve of the arc headed downward. The force of the arrested movement almost tore his arm out of its socket, but he found himself whipping about and flung to the side, away from where the girallon was headed and into a thick mass of creepers and fronds.

Theodenes heard the raging bellow of the girallon as it landed on the far side of the space between the trees only to discover that the gnome was missing. Theo hurtled on the vine toward a broad expanse of tree trunk. At the last second, he let go of the vine and slammed into the tree, holding on for dear life. His ears rang and his vision blurred, but for the moment he was safe.

The sounds of the girallon’s heavy weight landing on branches and crashing through leaves spurred Theodenes into action. He could see nothing around him but green and brown, but looking down, he spotted an opening in the jungle canopy and possibly a way to reach the ground without breaking his neck. With a grunt, the little gnome pushed away from the trunk, dropped about ten feet through the gap, and grabbed hold of a thick, ropy cluster of tendrils that had enveloped the banyan midway up.

He needed to clamber down the tree, keeping out of sight. That proved easy enough to do, with all of the foliage blocking him off from above. He finally set down on the jungle floor with only a few cuts and scrapes. He knew he’d evaded the girallon for the time being. The frustrated roaring of the creature up above was proof of that.

Theodenes tried to get a sense of where he was in relation to the road; he was at least a mile or more away from where he had been grabbed. Curse the woman for keeping all the maps! In his mind’s eye, he conjured forth a vision of the map, with the symbols and markings he’d remembered. He thought to check the side of a tree for moss, but it was entirely the wrong sort of climate, for moss was all over it.

He had to take his chances. The best plan would be to strike out in a chosen direction and look for some kind of landmark. Picking a path completely at random, he hustled off, staying near trees and bushes, using the large leaves as cover.

Just when he thought he’d escaped the girallon completely, he heard more crashing and bellowing far above. He cursed his ignorance. The beasts lived in the jungle and must hunt small game all the time. The noise he had been making, if not his scent, had drawn the beast.