FIGHTER'S BANE
by
Steven D. Bynum
Chapter One
An image of rock lobster tail filled Byamee’s mind. He was almost drooling at the thought. He could picture the succulent white meat. He could almost smell cooking lobster in the air. And if need be, he would kill for just a single bite. It was his favorite food. He imagined chunks of thick, fluffy lobster meat, dancing on a plate with juicy, melted butter. His stomach growled its approval as his mind continued the fantasy. He imagined a fat baked potato too, with butter and gobs of sour cream. Plus a salad, and oh yes baby, some biscuits with garlic and butter mixed in the dough. His stomach growled again as he licked his lips.
Suddenly the image was gone, replaced by urgent messages of pain from his straining fingers. Reluctantly he heeded their warning and began moving his toes against the cold rock, seeking a foothold that would give his fingers a rest. Now his stomach growled its disapproval as the image of a lobster meal vanished from his mind, but even his stomach realized that if he didn’t finish this job he’d never taste lobster again, or anything else for that matter. A little hunger wouldn’t kill him, but losing his grip surely would. Still, he thought with a grin, if he made it through the night alive, he’d do more than just think about lobster.
His toes found a perch on a small ledge of rock and he eased most of the weight from his fingers. Rule number one in free-climbing was to always maintain three points of contact, and Byamee was a stickler for following rules. Just for a second he rested, shaking the numbness from first one hand and then the other, until he was ready to continue moving up the cliff face. As he moved, he made use of every little knob of rock, every crack or irregularity, either pulling with his fingers or lifting with his toes, whichever had the better grip.
He found a good handhold and rested again, swearing he could still smell lobster. He smiled at his own wishful thinking and felt again for a good toe-hold. All right he told himself, so you’re hungry, thirsty, and tired, get over it, things could be worse. Since he was already five-hundred feet above the valley floor, hanging by his fingertips, he didn’t really want to try and imagine what might be worse.
Instead, he reached up to grasp at another finger-hold on the face of the slippery, granite cliff. His fingers found a slight depression in the rock, and digging in his nails, he eased upward. Cords of muscle worked under his skin, bunching, straining, and pushing his two‑hundred and twenty pound frame a bit closer to the goal. Right now he lived by his motto: Inch by inch it's a cinch, yard by yard it's too hard.
During the last three nights he’d scaled other cliffs similar to this one, each located in a different part of the secluded valley where he camped, high in the Sada‑Kar Mountains. And each time he’d done the same thing when he reached the top. He would find the giant eagle's nest located there, and without disturbing the sleeping creature — no easy task — he would carefully place a fragile white egg under the giant bird.
Fragile yet heavy, he thought, feeling the weight of the egg pulling across his shoulders. He carried the precious cargo strapped to his back in a special container that provided protection and warmth for the delicate object during the long climb. He was looking forward to finishing this particular trip because tonight would be his last. He was close to completing the mission exactly as the unicorns had instructed.
Even in the dark Byamee was able to spot a deep crack in the rock some twenty feet away. It gave him hope. If he could reach it the going should be much easier. He smiled. Seeing the crack was easy, a cloudless night allowed bright stars to chase away even the most stubborn of shadows, and the entire cliff face was bathed in soft moonlight, so the crack was easy to see, but reaching it was a different matter. On each of the previous nights he’d found the climb to the eagles' nests little more than a mild workout. He had been rock climbing for years, and his body was in superb condition, every inch of him was rock-hard, solid muscle, so most climbs went smoothly. But nothing had gone smoothly on this climb.
He shifted his weight and then leapt to his left some four feet, catching a tiny ledge with his finger tips. He started to slip, but digging his toes into the cliff he scrambled upward to a more secure position, getting closer to the dark crack.
Despite his size, he moved with the gracefulness of a gazelle, and scampered across the bare rock with the sure-footedness of a lizard. He had a rare combination of power, flexibility, and superb coordination. While this was a necessity for climbing cliffs, it also made Byamee adept at almost anything he tried.
His moral and ethical beliefs were as solid and complex as his physical abilities, and he had melded his beliefs and skills into a unique lifestyle dedicated to helping others. He thought of himself as a special kind of warrior, a cross between the typical fighter and a monk, with a host of rogue-like skills. Byamee believed in fighting for justice and goodness, and in seeking spiritual enlightenment through rigorous training and adherence to his rigid code of ethics. Most of his friends thought the term warrior-monk or warrior-priest would fit because of his fanaticism for justice, but they mostly called him a ninja because of his wide range of combat skills and preference for stealth. His friend Dangerous the dwarf called him, "a gall-darn stinkin’ paladin withou’ sense enough to wear armor."
But tonight his code of ethics had landed him right on the side of this cliff, and he was having second thoughts. He was beginning to realize this climb was one of the most difficult physical challenges he’d ever faced. If he hoped to survive he would need every ounce of his power, every bit of his superb balance and coordination, and every trick he could remember about climbing.
He thought of this particular cliff more like an ice‑cube than a rock; greased pigs offered better handholds. At times he’d struggled more than an hour to climb just a hundred feet, and with only four hours till dawn, he still had six‑hundred feet to go. He sighed, knowing he’d come too far to go back, and that he was too stubborn to give up. He moved on, inching toward the crack in the smooth granite.
To his surprise, several good handholds brought him to the deep fissure in less than a minute. Varying from one to four inches in width, the crack snaked off into the night toward the top of the cliff. Byamee slid his left foot into a wide space and balanced himself while he dipped a hand into the small cloth chalk-bag tied at his waist. The chalk improved his grip by drying his fingers and providing additional friction against the stone. When his hands were both covered, he rubbed some chalk on his right foot and toes, and then shifting toe-holds, he rubbed chalk on his left foot. Satisfied that he had enough chalk to improve his grip, he slid his open hand into the crevice. Normally he might worry about snakes or other poisonous creatures hiding in the crack, but he was confident that no other living creature was fool enough to call the sheer cliff-face home. And no creature is fool enough to climb on it either, he thought to himself, except for me. Easing his open hand into the crevice about a foot‑and‑a‑half, he squeezed his hand into a fist and then pulled back until his fist was tightly wedged in the rock; satisfied with the feel, he let go with his other hand and his feet. He hung, suspended by his wedged fist, and enjoyed the cool night breeze.
He was using an old climbing trick that allowed him to relax the rest of his body while hanging from his wedged fist, despite being some five‑hundred feet above the ground. He felt no pain, his body had conditioned itself to the rigors of his life, and his well-callused hand had been used for far worse than a temporary brace. He wiggled his bare toes and flexed his feet, also well-callused. It felt oh so good to have a moment’s rest.
Hanging from his hand, Byamee looked out across the valley floor. From his vantage point he had a good view of the secluded area the unicorns called home. The valley was about ten miles long and at least three miles wide at its narrowest point. Through the middle ran a crystal clear river, fed from falls cascading down the sheer cliffs encircling the valley. Byamee followed the river with his eyes from one end of the valley to the other. From his vantage point it appeared like a silvery ribbon, snaking its way along the valley floor. Dense woods were little more than dark smudges in the moonlight. Dark smudges where unicorns ruled. Dark smudges where no man had ever traveled, that is, until he had been summoned. He shook his head, remembering how he had ended up on the cliff.
Byamee lived in a small prosperous town named Graven, where he shared a very comfortable castle with his friends: Mystro the magician, Dangerous the dwarf, Cleric the druid, and lately, Sapphire the half‑elf thief. Except for Sapphire, the group had been friends their entire lives, and that's what made them such effective business partners. They were mercenaries, adventurers is how they thought of it. And they were very good at what they did.
At a time in the world when men were afraid to travel alone, the adventurers made a small fortune protecting merchants from roving bands of monsters and bandits. And in their spare time, what little they had, they explored dungeons, fought evil denizens, and hunted for fortunes in treasure. Byamee had been quite pleased with his life, until four days ago, when the unicorn appeared in his dreams.
The creature had ridden into his sleep on a rainbow of pixie dust and faerie-fire, snorting and stomping its way into his head. The sight of it had held Byamee speechless, spellbound. The magnificent animal towered above him, its silver mane flowing gently with the night air, its bright coat almost blinding Byamee with its beauty. The unicorn had bowed, leaving traces of sparkling magic where its single horn sliced through the air. Through telepathy the unicorn had asked for his help, and he had agreed, nodding, unable to speak in the presence of the magical creature.
When he awoke from the dream he was in a strange valley, the one far below him now. He had found himself resting comfortably on a bed of lush grass near the edge of a large meadow. Fragrant wild flowers filled the air with their perfume. The sun was just peeking over the granite cliffs towering high above, and the melodies of woodland birds floated in the breeze. He could hear the peaceful roar of the river flowing just a few hundred yards away.
At first Byamee was disoriented, a feeling he didn't enjoy. He had spent his entire life training to control every aspect of his existence, and he hadn't been prepared to go to sleep in one place and wake up in another. He sat up slowly and looked around, finding himself alone.
It took him only seconds to recall the unicorn's visit and request, but the creature was nowhere to be seen. He spent another few seconds surveying his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there.
He had been born with several unique abilities, talents that he had developed through rigorous training and lots of on-the-job experience. Especially keen were his physical senses, which he used to observe and understand the details of life that passed most people by, or got them killed. And once again his powers of observation proved useful.
He checked the area, the whole time appearing to stretch and yawn his way awake. The first thing he noticed was the dense woods less than fifty yards away. Majestic pines and redwoods stood side by side, packed together, with thick underbrush forming what seemed to be an impenetrable wall. Yet still, from the woods Byamee could sense curious eyes watching him, and he was sure that more than just a few of the creatures hidden there had a particular interest in his presence. The next thing he noticed almost startled him into revealing his subtle observations. Not two feet away a small creature was sitting on a large mushroom, its miniature eyes following his every move. Byamee couldn't tell if the creature was male or female, but he was sure it was some kind of sprite or pixie.
What Byamee then noticed surprised him even more. The creature was invisible, thinking that Byamee was unable to see it. When he let his eyes relax into what he called "normal vision" the creature blended into the mushroom, becoming invisible. But when he focused his concentration, the creature reappeared, a grin running from one pointed ear to the other.
Byamee had heard about the antics of mischievous wood sprites and pixies, and he didn't feel like being the brunt on any jokes today. Still pretending to stretch himself awake, he reached out with lightning speed and grabbed the little creature. Byamee's massive hand encircled half of the startled thing’s body, holding it tight.
Despite Byamee's quickness, the tiny creature was able to get its free hand down to the hilt of a sword on its waist, a slim blade no longer than a butter knife. Before the blade could slide free of its sheath, Byamee's other hand clamped down, pinning it too.
Still sitting on the ground, Byamee hauled the minute catch up in front of his face for a better look. He guessed the creature was male, despite its long curly brown hair and outlandish clothes. He wore a brightly colored green and purple jacket, embroidered with miniscule flowers on the lapels and a line of birds flying up his long sleeves from his writs to his shoulders. He had an equally bright yellow shirt underneath. Tight green pants emphasized the little man's slender legs, and the pants disappeared into dark purple pointed boots. Byamee twisted the creature around and saw that small silver bells hung from the back of its boots. He shook his head in wonder. How in the world had a creature wearing bells remained quiet while sneaking up on him?
Byamee went back to his inspection, still shaking his head. The tiny man had a soft round face, reminding Byamee of Halflings, except that his chin and nose were remarkably pointed; he was sure that if he dipped the creature’s chin in ink, it would make a fine quill. A dark purple hat was pushed back on his head, with slits in the brim for his long pointed ears. Small tufts of hair hung from the tips of his ears like a drooping mustache; the tufts had been dyed bright orange, at least Byamee thought they were dyed.
Byamee smiled with amazement; in all his years he’d never seen such a creature. He thought about letting the little thing go, it looked so harmless, but a closer inspection of the small sword it carried made him change his mind. He could clearly see the hilt and part of the blade, and the weapon indeed looked well-used and capable of causing serious harm. Byamee decided to hold on to his catch for a moment longer.
Suddenly a second tiny man jumped at him from a nearby mound of grass. Almost identical to the one he held, the creature was shouting at him in an unknown language while it waved its tiny sword. Reacting out of instinct, Byamee pulled back his foot and kicked out. Despite the fact that he was still sitting and holding the first creature with both hands, his foot caught the attacking little man in mid leap.
Instead of knocking the creature backward into the tall grass as he expected, Byamee's kick had a most curious effect. As the tiny man flew backward from the kick he suddenly disappeared. Byamee’s jaw dropped open. For a second he couldn’t believe that it simply vanished. He didn't have much time to contemplate the unusual event as another little man came flying at him from a different clump of lush grass. Byamee repeated the kick with the same result, the creature vanished.
Still clutching the first tiny man, Byamee watched the grass closely, prepared for another attack. None came. Suddenly, from right behind him, a deafening roar of a dragon filled the canyon. In a blink Byamee jumped to his feet and dove into a forward roll, putting distance between himself and the dragon behind him. As he rolled, Byamee's mind assessed the situation. He didn't know what kind of creature he was holding, but he definitely knew about facing dragons, and he wasn't pleased with the idea. Another shock hit him when he realized he wasn't wearing his magical cutlass, Bloodsucker. The blade must have remained behind in his room, hanging from his bedpost. Oh well, he thought, I'll just have to improvise. As he came to his feet he spun around, facing the new danger, but to his surprise nothing was there, just more grass and a few clumps of trees.
Having more than his fair share of dealing with wizards and magicians, it didn't take Byamee long to guess the source of the vanishing men and nonexistent dragon. Magic! He looked down at the little man still held tightly in his grasp, and sure enough, the creature's tiny lips were moving silently as it worded another spell.
Byamee gave it a good shake, interrupting the spell. A flash of green light threatened to blind him, but enough of the spell had been disrupted to minimize the effect. The light did little more than annoy him.
"That's enough," Byamee ordered in the common tongue, fighting the urge to spank the little brat. "I don't know if you can understand me, but if you try any more spells, I'll shake you till you pee your pants. Do you understand that?" He gave the creature a little shake for emphasis.
"Yes, I understand, human," the little man replied, also in the common tongue. He didn’t sound intimidated. His voice was high pitched, melodic, and the sound seemed to linger in the air for a moment after the words had been spoken. "I had heard that you human brutes were vulgar, but in all my seven‑hundred and twelve years no one has ever threatened to shake the pee out of me."
The statement was made with such calmness and indignation that Byamee burst out laughing. The little creature didn't seem amused.
"Go ahead and eat me," the little man sighed. "That's what all you humans do with brownies, isn't it?"
"Ah, so you're a brownie?" Byamee exclaimed, amazed. The import of the creature's words hit the ninja and he laughed again. "Don't worry little fellow," he said, still laughing. "I do eat brownies, but not the kind I have to catch myself." He continued laughing, this time at his own joke.
The creature perked up a bit. "If you're not going to eat me, then what are you going to do with me?" he asked.
"I imagine that I'll let you go," Byamee answered honestly, "but first I'd like to chat with you for a while. I've read about creatures like you in the library at the fighter's guild in Graven, but I've never known anyone who actually saw a brownie. About the only thing I really know is that you're kin to Halflings, and that's it. I'd like to find out more about you, if you don't mind?"
"And if I do mind?" the brownie retorted, apparently not liking the idea of being studied.
"Well," Byamee answered with a wicked smile and evil gleam in his eye. "I could shake you until you pee your pants, or decide to talk to me, whichever comes first." The brownie's eyes went wide, but then he realized the human was joking.
The brownie nodded, deciding to trust the massive human, or at least pretending that he did. "Okay then," he said. "Put me down and I'll answer your questions."
"Very clever," said Byamee, "but how do I know you won't run away the moment I put you down? After all, you were spying on me. How do I know you won't try any more of your tricks?" He peered down into the eyes of the brownie, ready to judge the truthfulness of the creature's answer.
"I give you my word," the brownie answered, meeting the human's gaze evenly. "And the word of Jayhabblephyst is as good as gold."
"Jayhabba‑who?" the ninja asked, stumbling over the name.
"Just call me Jay," the little brownie answered, perturbed but not surprised that a human would have difficulty with his name.
Byamee wasn’t sure what else he could do to judge the truthfulness of the brownie’s words than to put him down, so he did. Quick as a wink Jay scampered to the spot where Byamee had been lying and jumped back onto the giant mushroom. He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a wooden pipe, with a stem almost half as long as his body. Byamee’s eyes narrowed suspiciously; he couldn't believe the little brownie had hidden such a big pipe in his clothes. Plus, he could remember several bad experiences with Halflings and their magic pipes. He watched the brownie warily, ready for any tricks.
In a few moments the brownie finished packing the pipe and lit up, puffing out giant clouds of smoke that took the form of birds and animals before dissipating into the air. Noting Byamee's expression, the brownie smiled with glee. "Worried about the pipe, are you?" he giggled. "Well, I gave you my word, and I won't break it. The pipe is harmless."
Byamee still wasn't entirely satisfied. He stayed alive by being cautious, but he realized he didn't have a choice. He sat down in front of the strange little creature, eager to learn.
The two talked until nightfall, and Byamee couldn't recall a time in his life when he had been filled with more wonder. He learned that Jay was actually an ambassador for the unicorns, and that finding out how Byamee would handle the snooping little creature had been one of their tests. And he also learned why he had been summoned to the valley by the unicorns.
For centuries the unicorns had been protected by giant white magical eagles, creatures that the unicorns themselves had created. The birds alerted the unicorns about danger, and would fight in their defense if necessary. Mostly the eagles had been used to lure dangerous creatures away from the unicorns’ hideouts, but the cost had been high. The eagles were greatly sought after for their magic feathers and talons. Magic‑users shaped goggles from the eagles’ eyes that would allow the user to see two‑hundred times better than with normal vision, and the eagles’ eggs were cooked into a soup that endowed many magic powers when it was consumed. Eventually the white eagles were hunted into extinction.
Without the protection of the white eagles, the unicorns were also soon hunted to the brink of extinction. Several times they had attempted to create more of the protecting eagles, but the amount of magic needed to perform the spells always caught the attention of wizards using scrying devices, and the unicorns would be raided before they could finish their magic. In the years that followed, the unicorns disbanded, realizing that solitary creatures were much harder to find and catch than large herds. The magical animals had vowed to search the world over until they found a safe haven to reconvene.
Jay claimed the credit for aiding the unicorns in their quest. He told Byamee that he had invited the magical creatures to come live in his valley, and they had called it home for over five hundred years. During that time the unicorns had grown in strength and number. They had been protected by numerous magical creatures who also called the valley home, unusual creatures such as pixies, sprites, and faeries, dryads and the like. Jay even told Byamee that a band of centaurs guarded the only entrance to the valley, and that no evil creature had threatened them in many hundreds of years.
In the meantime the world around them had changed. Powerful wizards had been consumed by their magic, either dying, or changing into creatures that prowled the outer planes. In their place had arisen powerful fighters and monsters, not more wizards. Much of the ancient magic had been lost, and very few magicians had even learned about using unicorn horns in their magic spells, much less how to find and catch the creatures. So the unicorns lived on in peace, free of the fear that once haunted them.
In this time of prosperity and freedom the unicorns decided to again invoke the ancient magic that would bring back the lost white eagles. Combining their powers, the unicorns created four magical eggs that would hatch into giant white eagles. The only remaining task was to place the eggs into the nests of other giant eagles, so that the eaglets could be reared by their free‑flying cousins. And this last important step was where the unicorns had run into trouble.
The giant eagles that nested high on the tops of the cliffs rimming the valley had refused to come down and speak with the unicorns. For centuries the giant eagles had passed on warnings about befriending the unicorns. Eagle parents told their young stories about how the white eagles had died out helping the unicorns. Over the years the stories had taken on such mystical qualities that many giant eagles now believed unicorns were their enemies. The eagles above the unicorns’ valley had lived in peace with the creatures for many years, but they kept their distance, never giving the unicorns a chance to prove their loyalty one way or another.
Out of desperation, the unicorns had sought a solution outside of their own valley — they had contacted Byamee.
Despite his best efforts, he wasn’t able to find out why they had picked him. He hadn't even found out how they knew about him. The little brownie only smiled when asked, saying the unicorns knew much about the outside world, and that Byamee had been chosen from a select few. Byamee was flattered, but cautious.
The unicorns’ request had been simple, but dangerous. They wanted Byamee to scale the towering cliffs, carrying the eggs in special containers, and place the magical creations into the eagles' nests with their other eggs. The only catch was that he was to do this without the eagles finding out about it. The unicorns knew the precise locations of the nests, and they even knew which eagles had just laid eggs, but they had no way of reaching the nests. Byamee was their only hope.
Graciously, the ninja had agreed to help. Jay told him the unicorns felt bad about tricking the giant birds, but in the long run the magical white eagles would bridge the gap between the unicorns and the eagles, so that the two races could again become friends. The little brownie told Byamee the eggs were protected with a special magic so the giant eagles would not recognize them until they were mature enough to take care of themselves. All he had to do was climb up the cliffs and put the eggs into the nests.
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Byamee’s thoughts came back to the present as he let out a wistful sigh. Right, he thought, all I had to do was climb straight up bare, slippery rock, find the nest of one of the most vigilant creatures that lived, put a twelve pound egg under that creature without disturbing it, and then leave without being detected. Byamee let out another sigh as he began to climb again, feeling like an idiot for agreeing to the plan. At least he had been a lucky idiot, so far.
Indeed, the first three eggs had been placed without incident. Each night he scaled one of the rock walls carrying an egg, and each morning he greeted Jay upon his return. The little brownie arranged for food and a place to sleep, not to mention some incredible conversations. Jay even took Byamee on some amazing tours, letting him catch a glimpse of many wondrous sights in the valley. Byamee accepted that his movements were restricted, and he still hadn't seen any of the unicorns, but he gathered enough memories to last a lifetime. He hoped finishing this last climb would be a lifelong memory too, provided he made it to the top.
But luck was with him; the crack he’d found went all the way to the top of the cliff and made climbing a snap, albeit a slow snap, but much easier than before. Just twenty minutes before sunrise he reached the wide shelf where the two young eagles had built their gigantic nest. Quiet as a spider, Byamee pulled onto the ledge and stretched out lengthways, relaxing his exhausted body. He patted the container he had carefully placed beside him, and then closed his eyes, resting. He didn't think the eagles would notice him in the deep shadows of the pre‑dawn. He lay perfectly still, not moving a muscle, but he smiled inwardly, thinking about how his story would sound to his friends back home. They would think he was crazy for resting out in plain sight where the eagles could see him, but his experience told him that sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open.
After just a moment of rest he was back in action. He picked up the container and moved to the edge of the nest. He sniffed the air, cautiously, searching for the distinctive smell of porcupine. He had learned from Jay that the prickly animals frequently used the lower portion of the eagle's nest for their own lairs. On his second climb he had almost stepped on one of the creatures, but luck was with him and he held his foot back at the last second, just missing the sleeping animal and a foot full of quills. He inhaled deeply again, the air smelled crisp and clean, no porcupines.
Satisfied that the only creatures nearby were the eagles, Byamee took a moment to study the nest. The amazing structure was nearly thirty feet tall, and he knew from the others he had seen that it would be at least fifty feet long. He also knew that only the female would be on the nest; the male would be resting on a ledge above, ready to swoop down at the first sign of danger. Byamee hoped that wouldn't happen.
He secured the container and stepped carefully onto one of the tree limbs used at the bottom of the nest. Just a mere thirty feet up, he thought. Step by step he scaled the pile of trees and bushes, ever careful to avoid weak limbs that might crack beneath his weight. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he realized how close he was cutting it. In just moments the sky would be light enough to wake the sleeping eagles, and if he was caught he would be little more than an early morning snack.
He reached the top of the nest and peered over, looking into the face of a young sleeping eagle not more than ten feet away. He had been wrong, the male was not sleeping on a ledge above the nest, he was right there, leaning against the female, blocking Byamee's path!
Young love, he cursed mentally, it appeared the two of them just couldn't stand to be apart, and now he was going to have to sneak by both of them. A quick peek at the sky told him he would have to hurry.
He tiptoed across the nest as quickly as possible, his bare feet not even making a whisper. He had to slow his progress while circling the male because his feet kept getting caught in the debris the eagles used to line the nest. In particular his feet kept getting entangled in some kind of webbing that stretched along the back side of the nest. Byamee wanted to scream out loud each time his foot caught on the stuff, but instead he just shook free and moved on.
It seemed to take forever to reach the far side of the female. When he at last knelt down beside her, he carefully reached his hand through her feathers, checking for the egg underneath. Just as the unicorns had predicted, a solitary egg rested underneath her warm breast. Satisfied, Byamee opened the container he had so carefully carried, and pulled out the magical white egg inside. Able to use only one hand, he balanced the egg carefully and slid it under the sleeping eagle. Twelve pounds wasn't much to someone of Byamee's immense strength, usually, but after all of his efforts in the last few days, he was exhausted. The egg felt more like twelve hundred pounds as he maneuvered it next to the first one.
After what seemed like eons, Byamee withdrew his hand, happy with the positioning of the egg. He looked up at the skyline, almost at eye level, and he was hit right in the face with the first rays of the sun.
It was later than he thought, much later. Normally eagles would be awake by this time, but he guessed these probably slept longer because of their youth. Finally, a break; score one for the laziness of the young. He stepped away from the giant bird, thinking to head for the edge of the nest, but fate had other plans.
Clearly visible to Byamee, another giant eagle was winging its way down the valley toward him. The bird had its attention fixed on the far side of the canyon, but in a moment it would look his way, and he would be spotted. He had only one choice.
Giant eagles with wing spans of more than twenty feet are famous for many things. But if you ask any creature living on the ground under an eagle’s nest to name the one thing they're the most famous for, the answer will always be the same: enormous droppings.
Quick as a wink Byamee dove headfirst into the nearest pile. His first thought was: Yuck! That was his second thought too. His quick action had at least shielded him from view, but he was still in danger of detection, so he squirmed his way deeper into the nest, slip‑sliding down a river of the birds' excretions. A call from the flying eagle brought the two sleeping birds awake instantly, and for a moment Byamee thought they would discover him, but the flying eagle was just saying hello. It hadn't recognized the giant lump of feces as a human.
With his scent masked by the eagles’ waste, Byamee was deep enough in the nest to avoid detection. Effectively camouflaged, he realized he would have to wait the day out in the birds' nest and then make his escape after the two eagles went to sleep for the night. He settled in, trying to quietly work his way to the side so that he wouldn't be directly under the eagles’ backsides. He was in for a long, smelly day. And just one thought kept going through his mind: CRAP.
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