Forty: Escaping the Armored Land Narwhal

  “Uncle Slade!” I shouted to him. I had nothing useful to say, at that moment, other than perhaps Don’t get crushed by the land narwhal!, but I had to acknowledge him.

  The animal left off chasing Freydis and Caiside. It turned its attention to Slade.

  I started to jump and wave my arms again.

  “Don’t worry!” he shouted to me. “I’ve got it!”

  He then pulled a knife out from a sheath at his belt. It was broader than our Elven knives, but still nothing more than a blackberry sticker to that beast. The land narwhal must have weighed half a ton or more, and it boasted those thick bony plates beneath its skin, so I couldn’t imagine the knife would do Slade much good.

  He raised the knife, then; but not to strike. He raised it to display its silver shine. The sun was setting, now, and the blade caught those last rays, and glinted. We could see the narwhal’s gaze rise a bit as it stared at the gleam.

  Slade had stopped near a tree, the fattest one I saw in the copse. He backed toward it, now.

  The land narwhal lowered its head and charged again, right at Slade. It was clearly enraptured by the knife. It neared Slade; four lengths away, three, one. But right before impact, Slade threw himself to his right, out of the way of the charge. He had let go of the knife before he dived away, and it seemed to hang in midair for a long moment.

  The narwhal’s tusk, which had been aiming for Slade’s chest, instead now slammed into the tree.

  The knife dropped out of the air, striking the tusk on its way down to the ground.

  The beast was stuck there, its tusk thrust through the tree trunk. More than half of it protruded out the other end.

  Slade shook his head. The narwhal, beside him, stood still, apparently stunned by either the blow, or the surprise of it, or both.

  “It worked!" he said. "I had heard a story about this once: how to save yourself from an armored land narwhal. Their tusks are so sharp, they can embed themselves halfway or even more, as you see here. Beautiful. You just have to hope you're near a big tree, or a sturdy wooden wall.”

  He turned to me and Freydis.

  “Flicker! And Freydis! How long it has been. You're all grown up! I worried I would never see you again.”

  “A very long time, Uncle,” Freydis agreed. “You look like I remember, though.”

  “But much grayer,” he said. His hair and beard were indeed washed with gray.

  “You look good, very fit,” Freydis added.

  “Well, one does not grow rotund on Wastemoor dungeon food. And I never stopped doing push-ups, you know. You can ask her about that.” He nodded to Caiside.

  “It is good to see you, Cass,” he said. “We weren’t separated as long as I feared we might be.” He reached out and touched her shoulder.

  “And I believe,” he added, “that you – will have the map, then?” He sounded truly curious.

  “We do,” she said. “I handed it over to Flicker.”

  “Very good.” He turned back to me and Freydis.

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  “Well, niece and nephew. I came up here from Enkel Kanindal, where I heard of your quest. I’m proud of you. It’s not an easy thing embarking on a journey like this, eh?”

  “You’ve been to town already?” I asked.

  “Yes. First place I went.” He seemed ready to tell a story about his past weeks of travel. Meanwhile, behind him, the armored land narwhal had quickly recovered from its apparent shock at being stuck in the trunk, and was starting to try to extract itself, bracing its legs and pulling backward.

  “Down in town I met up with – well, but I see you’re worrying about our companion here.” He tilted a thumb toward land narwhal. “It won’t try too hard to get loose, though. That horn isn’t really that strong, and they know that, and they won’t risk breaking it. That’s another thing I heard about them.”

  “But it looks like it will dislodge itself eventually,” I said.

  “Oh yes. Eventually. It’s inevitable.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “That’s the last part of the story I heard,” he said. “You stay out of their eyesight, and back away. They have very poor memories. And he’s so fixated on extracting himself, now, that he’ll forget about us. So, we move behind his hind end.”

  We did so. The land narwhal had a thick, short tail, with some strands of hair at its end. We gathered behind it and watched it shake its rear quarters side to side as it tried to wiggle its horn out of the tree. I couldn’t imagine it would be stuck much longer.

  “Now we just back away. We’ll get to another stand of trees and lie low.”

  He stopped himself and stood still, then:

  “You know what, though? My knife is up there. Right beneath its nose.”

  “Should you just leave it?” I asked. “We have knives.”

  “Mmm, I want that one, though. It’s from Ustondia, far to the west. You’d never guess what I had to trade for it. Let’s see, here – I just need to reach.”

  And now Slade spent an inordinate amount of time searching the floor of the copse, between the trees, for a fallen branch long enough for him to reach underneath the length of the land narwhal without being seen. He picked his way here and there. All the while the beast snorted, and pounded its feet on the ground as it push-pulled, push-pulled the tree with its tusk. The upper branches and leaves swayed.

  “You know,” said Caiside, “I wonder if we could affix something to the point of its tusk, to lock into the trunk.”

  “I don’t know what that would be,” I said, “but you’re welcome to try.”

  “I like how you think, sister Caiside! As ever!” Slade called out from among the trees. “But I would hate to strand this animal permanently. We don’t want it starving to death here.”

  Snorts and stampings.

  “This should do it!” Slade finally called out, what felt like quite some time later. He returned with a long tree branch. He knelt down behind the land narwhal’s legs and set about trying to hook and drag the knife.

  “Ah, escaping from an armored land narwhal,” he said. “An achievement. Reminds me of a helpful song:”

  If you’re an archer arching at a warhorse charging,

  try standing behind a stake.

  And if you find yourself fleeing a spewing chimera

  you’ll want immersion in a lake.

  A steppe ox will gore you; but a cliff bear ignore you

  if you just leave it alone.

  And if you get pursued by an armored land narwhal

  there’s one trick you’ve got to know:

  Find a tree;

  get that tusker to chase something, then don’t quail:

  That creature will be pinned there proper

  if you wait till you’re almost impaled!

  If you find yourself running from a big crocodile

  you’ve got to zig and you’ve got to zag.

  And to dodge the gaze of a killing basilisk

  put your head in a bag.

  The hare escapes clutches of a big hungry timber wolf

  by blending in with the snow.

  And if you find yourself chased by an armored land narwhal

  there’s one trick you’ve got to know:

  Find a tree;

  get that tusker to charge a shine, then don’t quail:

  That creature will be nailed there proper

  if you wait till you’re almost impaled!

  .

  .