Fort Knucklebone

As Ash and I prepared to leave High Hall, I knew we needed to move quickly. It had been a year already since Quirk had been at Candlekeep, and several months since he was in Elturel. It was a miracle the trail hadn’t gone cold by now.
 
I paused briefly to pay my respects to Captain Mantlemorn. Pherria showed me to her resting place. Again, the smell of preservation oils hung in the air. This time, however, I wasn’t imagining things. This altar was clearly the work of my uncle. I was impressed by how closely he’d been able to replicate a traditional Aarakocran funerary rite. Although the body had decayed quite markedly by then, I could still make out that she was a fierce woman with strong, stoic features. I prayed that she had found peace and asked her to send strength and courage as I picked up the path where she had left it.
 
We snuck out of the cathedral and picked our way to the chains anchoring the city in Avernus. I studied the drop, pacing back and forth as I tallied my inventory. There was only one way to do this.
 
“Alright, Ash. You’re not going to like this.” Before he had time to dodge me, I flapped my wings and took Ash by his scruff in my talons. We dove over the edge. I unfurled my wings to their widest span to slow our descent as much as possible. Ash howled in fright, but at least knew better than to writhe too much. About 60 feet from the ground, I repeated the same trick I’d used when we crossed into Elturel and blasted the scorched earth below with a torrent of wind. I surfed the monsoon, skipping across it like a clumsy stone until I was able to deposit Ash in the dirt with a soft thump. I slid a few feet from him, absorbing the worst of the impact myself. I sat up slowly, letting the fuzz clear from my head. Ash lapped my face a few times and I felt better. “Thanks, buddy. Sorry I had to do that to you.”
 
I stood and surveyed our surroundings. The crimson waters of the River Styx trailed away to the horizon. A faint heat haze shimmered over everything. Reddish orange dirt sprawled for miles in all directions. The ground was so warm, I felt that if I stood still too long, I would sear my skin. I pulled Uncle Quirk’s feather from my bag and held it for Ash to sniff.
 
“Any sign of him, Ash?” I asked. The wolf spent several minutes loping in long arcs. Right to left. Left to right. Right to left again. At last, he stood rigid with his ears forward, nose twitching, and eyes narrowed. I followed along a few feet above, coasting on thermal flares while Ash led the way. We followed the scarlet river for miles. Fatigue threatened to ground me. Finally, something materialized in the distance.
 
Ash led me directly to the outer gates of Fort Knucklebone. A gang of foul-mouthed redcaps tried to dissuade us from entering.
 
“I said, let us pass!” I shouted as a surge of rose gold magic swirled around me. The sound of a bell tolled ominously and the most garrulous of the redcaps, the one whom I presumed to be their leader, tumbled from his place atop the gates with a shriek. The gates creaked open.