He trudged up a small dry knoll and stopped, nearly out of sight behind the undergrowth. He shrugged off his pack and mandolin case, and dumped them on the dead leaves at his feet.
“Are you coming?” he called. “Or do you plan to stay and live here in the middle of nowhere like the holy hermit of Bodora-Simni?”
The kid, a sorcerer? It wasn’t possible. He looked closer to nine than thirteen, and pretty like an even younger child. He was barely half as tall as she was, and as pale as she was dark. In fact, he was golden yellow all over, like the fancy gold statues they sold in Toranan-Yiet shops, the ones with slanty black teardrops for eyes. Sometimes he looked about as human as one of them foreign godlings.
Smart, lots smarter than he let on. Sorta cowardly. Bookish.
Definitely not some creepy sorcerer. Or even a scatterbrained one, like old Trevor.
Tsai’dona shook her head and wiped sweat out of her eyes. “I hate magic. But he doesn’t look very scary.”
He looked downright comical, standing on a mound of mud in the middle of a stinky swamp and acting like some Nashidran emperor holding court over his slimy subjects.
Lorel choked down a giggle. If he caught her laughing, he’d make her sieve drinking water through a cloth again. Talk about a boring chore. A little slime never hurt nobody.
He rocked back on his good foot and glared at her.
A wedge-shaped head bigger than a barrel surged up behind his shoulder.
“Blood in the Weave!” She drew her short sword and sprinted towards him. “Look out!”
He began to turn.
Enormous fangs dug into his chest.
The kid screamed. Collapsed to his knees.
Lorel raced toward him.
Swamp mud defeated her. She slipped, fell hard, and splashed face down in the muck.
Bitter blood in the Warp and the Weave. She wasn’t good for nothing. No time now to cuss at herself. She pushed up to her knees, crawled to her feet, and, wiping mud out of her eyes, she slogged forward.
Tsai’dona hesitated for an instant longer, but followed her.
The kid moaned and tried to push himself up.
“Lay still, kid! Don’t catch its–”
The miswoven snake reared and fanged his back.
He shrieked and convulsed, and fell against the serpent’s body.
“– attention. Weaver drowned in tears.”
Tsai’dona’s bronze knife hissed out of its sheath. “I’ll slaughter that thing.”
That made two of them. First, she’d massacre that monster. Next, she’d skin the blood-woven snake. Last, she’d bury the kid in its Loom-warping hide. It weren’t never gonna get away with hurting him. With killing him.
She’d failed him. Failed to protect him. Some bodyguard she was.
The snake reared above the kid again. Its head hovered over him, its pale blue eyes staring right at her.
That beastie must be fifty feet long. It was as big around as the kid. What a heroic monster! Too bad there weren’t no bards around to write a song about the way she was gonna butcher it.
She’d make sure the kid got revenge if it killed her.
The serpent swayed taller, its eyes still fixed on hers. It stretched forward, wrapped two coils around the kid’s chest, rolled to the ground, and slithered off.
Lorel felt her jaw drop. Snakes can’t carry people, not like that.
But this one did. She had to stop it.
She slogged forward until she reached the solid hummock where the kid had been. She scooped up his pack and mandolin case. It was really weird, but they both looked unhurt. She couldn’t hope as much for the kid.
Tsai’dona squelched up beside her and picked up the kid’s crutches. “Kidnapped by a snake. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I never heard of a monster snake outside of ghoulie tales. Why does the kid have such awful luck?”
“Using magic brings bad luck.” Tsai’dona slid her knife back into its sheath and balanced the little crutches on her shoulder. “We’ve got a long hunt ahead of us.”
The girl was likely right. They weren’t gonna catch the miswoven snake any too quick. Lorel sheathed her sword and slogged forward as fast as the terrain allowed.
“Let me lead.” Tsai’dona stepped around her and started walking two feet to the side of where Lorel had been. “I grew up in Moyara-Dur. I may be a city girl, but know a lot about swamps.”
No wonder the frayed thread stayed mostly dry.
They managed to keep the overgrown wiggler within sight or sound, though just barely. Sing to the Weaver the beastie didn’t like water much, or the kid would be drowned by now. Drowned? He was surely poisoned all the way to death. She was gonna slaughter that Loom-warping legless lizard.
She rubbed sweat out of her eyes. She didn’t have time to mourn him yet. She had to skin a monster first. She lengthened her stride and took the lead.
Tsai’dona skittered to the far side of the trail. “Watch out.”
“Watch for what?” She stepped on a patch of what looked like solid ground – and sank to mid-calf in quicksand. “Weaver’s blood!”
She crouched backwards onto her stable foot, but her trapped foot sank deeper, like a hand below the mire had grabbed her ankle and squeezed.
She leaned back and pulled against the sucking, reeking mud.
The ground beneath her good foot sank.
“Wait, don’t fight it,” Tsai’dona shouted.
Don’t fight? Was she slipping off the Shuttle? No way was she gonna let the fraying swamp win.
Lorel grabbed the top of her trapped boot and threw her whole body backwards to where solid ground had been a step before. She landed on top of her overfilled knapsack. The kid’s books jabbed into her spine. His pack and mandolin sailed from her shoulder and thudded against the path. Mandolin strings jangled a protest inside the case.
But her leg was still trapped in the quicksand. She arched her body and tugged at her boot while yanking her knees to her chest.
“Too Tall, reach toward me!”
Her foot slid inside the boot. “Give that back!” She tugged harder at the top of the boot. “I ain’t walking through this miswoven swamp barefoot.” She rocked forward and hurled herself backwards.
Her boot popped free of the mud.
She tumbled backwards, rolled over her knapsack and flopped down on her butt. Shaking all over, she leaned her head into her mucky hands. She’d never kill that thread-snipping snake if she drowned herself.
Tsai’dona stood staring at her, and holding out one of the kid’s crutches like a shepherd’s hook. She slowly lowered it. “I was going to pull you out, but you don’t need me.”
“Oh. Thanks.” A nice thought, anyway. “I’m not used to being around nobody strong enough to help me.”
Tsai shrugged and nodded. “Viper is awfully little.”
The poor kid was little and silly and very dead. She’d failed him worse than she’d failed anyone in her whole life. And now she’d lost the trail of his murderer. All her fault.
Shrill screams shredded her ears.
The kid! Still alive?
She jumped to her feet and slung her gear back onto her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how completely she’d accepted his death. Those screams shocked hope into her heart.
If the kid was still alive, she’d find him. Shuttle break that monster’s thread!
Tsai’dona grabbed the kid’s stuff and traipsed after her.
Lorel slogged onward and listened for the next scream. As long as she heard him, she could save him.
Tsai’dona plucked a snarl of blond hair off a low bush and rolled it between her fingers. The beastie still headed east.
Lorel gritted her teeth and trudged forward. A few minutes later she found the kid’s padded boot. No crutches, no boot, only one foot. He had no chance at escape, now, not until she got there to rescue him.
She cradled the soggy boot against her chest.
During the
silences, she could only worry and hike blindly. If the screams stopped, she’d never find him. She ran a losing race against the thrust of the Shuttle, and she knew it.
Another wail, cut short.
Her heart lurched. She aimed her march at the sound. Tsai’dona eased in front of her and led her along solid ground.
Silence. Years of silence. Even the birds had disappeared. Only the bugs whined. Only a few bugs.
Tears clouded her eyes.
She’d failed him. She didn’t protect him, and now she couldn’t even rescue his body. Some bodyguard she’d been. She gotta find him. She would find him, Weaver crush the Loom!
She caught a low whimper, coming from behind and to her left.
That’s better. Keep it up, kid. To think she’d passed him.
Lorel shrugged off her gear and abandoned it. Pushing sticky vines aside, she crashed between the trees.
Tsai’dona thundered along right behind her.
She drew her long sword and plunged into the clearing.
The kid huddled near the center of the wide hillock, covered in mud and muck. He convulsed, barfed, and crumpled, deathly still.
The giant snake looked up at her, hissed, and coiled tighter around the kid’s limp body.
It was even longer than she remembered, and looked like it was growing larger on the spot. Neat trick, that.
Its hide seemed odd, not scaly or slimy, but velvety, like soft leather. Its coloring was weird, too, all pinkish brown. A dark brown stripe ran all down its back. White patches marked the ear holes and swept back for several inches.
Even the eyes were strange: bright, alert, and spooky blue. It stared at her like it planned to eat her next.
She’d wipe that stare off its face as soon as she figured out an attack plan. The blood-woven oversized wiggler gotta have some weakness.
The kid went rigid, barfed again, and started squirming like he was having convulsions.
If he was well enough to puke, he was well enough to live. She needed to get rid of that slithering toad.
She lunged at the wiggler’s throat.
The snake flowed sideways. Her sword beheaded some weeds, but missed the monster’s flesh.
Its blood-red mouth slammed toward her.
Lorel twisted to the side. Slipped in the mud.
Fangs longer than her fingers thrust through her hair. Its skin brushed against her shoulder.
Tsai’dona rushed in and lured the snaky head into following her out of range.
The kid pushed at the coils trapping him like he was trying to escape.
Lorel rolled to her feet and slashed at the nearest coil.
The huge head knocked her aside before the blow landed.
Air wheezed through her chest like she was a blacksmith’s bellows. Trees seemed to wiggle like Pleasure District dancers.
Why couldn’t she defeat the blood-woven monster? It was just a dumb snake. She backed away to join Tsai’dona out of fang-range and tried to reassess the situation. There had to be some way she could kill the beastie.
The snake coiled more tightly around the kid’s body. He grunted and pounded one fist against its hide, but after a few thumps he passed out again. The legless lizard turned its attention back to her. She got the feeling it was weighing her.
She measured it in return. The thread-snipping monster really did seem bigger. Nah, that’s cowardice talking. Attack!
Sword above her head, Lorel dashed forward.
The monster surged at her.
She jumped to the side, threw herself forward with all the power in her legs, and slashed at the snake’s twisted body.
The kid’s limp arm was sprawled on that coil.
Blood in the Weave! He’d kill her if she chopped off his arm. She yanked the sword back so hard she bruised her gut with the hilt.
The snake swatted her with the back of its head and knocked her tumbling back into the trees. Her head thudded against the ground.
Her long sword went spinning back toward the overgrown wiggler. It landed within easy fang reach.
Tsai’dona backed away from the battle and knelt down beside her. “We are in so much trouble.”
Hey, she still had her short sword. She’d kill the legless lizard as soon as she caught her breath.
The kid’s limp body went rigid, began to shake. His legs twitched, and his whole body jerked and shuddered.
The snake eased another coil around him. The thread-snipping monster acted like a spoiled brat hiding the toy it was supposed to share.
And the kid wasn’t no toy. He was a sick little boy.
“You fraying wiggler!” She pounded both fists on the grassy hill and wished she could get close enough to wallop the slithering critter. “He’ll die if I can’t take care of him!”
“Thisss one issss abundantly caaaapable of assssissting the hatsssshling.”
The ground tilted. “A talking snake?” And weirder yet, it was talking in Zedisti when she’d been talking in Duremen-Lor.
Tsai’dona plopped flat on the ground with her mouth hanging open, her skin so pale she looked half passed out herself.
“Thiss one iss not a ssnake.” The monster lifted its chin. “This one is a Dresssshin Viper. The ssswordlings shall depart or the ssswordlings will be consumed.”
The blood-weaver surely looked big enough to eat them. That didn’t matter one bit.
“I ain’t gonna leave.” Lorel jumped to her feet and drew her short sword. It wouldn’t be much good against the overgrown wiggler, but she’d die before she left the kid behind. “I’ve sworn to take care of him, and I will. Besides, how are you gonna clean him when you ain’t got no hands? He needs a bath real bad. His wounds will fester, else.”
Creepy blue eyes watched her like she was a strange type of weapon, one it had never seen before. “The swordling’s assssertion may be accurate.”
Her what might be right? What was with all the big words?
It stared at her for a while before it nodded. “The swordlings may remain as nursssse and provider. Explicit conditions shall prevail. Should this one command the ssswordlings to depart, the swordlings must comply for the specified duration. This one shall reside with the hatchling at all times. Do the swordlings acquiesce?”
The last part sounded like a question. For the rest, she couldn’t tell if she couldn’t understand its accent through the hissing, or if it was using big words to scare her off.
The kid used big words all the time. The trick to big words was to ignore them, and do what was needed.
“Whatever you just said, I’ll do it.” Lorel sheathed her short sword and stalked toward the wiggler. “You won the fight. I’ll play it your way.” Once she figured out what its way was. She’d try to be fair.
She picked up her long sword, cleaned it on her sleeve, and sheathed it.
Tsai’dona nodded mutely, though she looked like she wished she was anywhere else in the world at the moment.
“This one comprehends the swordling’s reservations.” The legless lizard uncoiled and let her get to the kid’s limp body.
“I don’t get half your talk.” She leaned forward, one eye on the kid’s shallow breathing, the other on the monster’s blood-woven-long fangs. “Who on the Loom are you, anyway? You gotta have a name. I ain’t calling you ‘one’.”
It hesitated. Finally, it dipped its head. “This one may be identified as the Kyridon.”
A fancy name for a fraying snake. “Kyri thing. Right.” Lorel stretched the kid’s limp body as flat as she could on the warm coils. “He’s called Viper.”
“This one is cognizant.” The Kyridon nuzzled the kid’s sweat-soaked hair. How gross. Good thing he wasn’t awake, else he’d hatch a litter of cross-eyed kittens. “The hatchling is affiliated.”
Affiliated? That didn’t make no sense at all. Lorel glared at the snake, but shrugged. She wasn’t sure the beastie knew what it was talking about. The poor kid was likely the first magic person it ever caught. She’d get him to trans
late later. He’d need magic to make sense of its chatter.
She tore the ragged shirt off his body and cringed at the seven pairs of swollen fang wounds piercing his chest and back.
Tsai’dona gasped. “By the Seven Temples, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”
Fraying wiggly toad. “You think you stabbed him enough times?”
“The nascence is not accomplished. The hatchling is not operational.”
“Weaver crush the Loom!” But yelling at the thing would just make it mad again. And maybe get her fanged, too. “I got the ‘not’ part. I don’t know all them big words. You talk worse than the kid.”
She waved one hand at the stinky, slimy swamp surrounding the little hill. “You seen any clean water near here? He ain’t gonna get better ’til after he’s had a real bath.” Not to mention she’d like to scrub some swamp stink off herself. “Did you have to drag him through all the fraying mud?”
Chapter 3.
Viper floated on a cloud, a great, fluffy, comforting cloud that wiped away all of his fears and worries, leaving them less than memories. He was cuddled and comforted by his teacher, his protector, Trevor and Lorel, his mother and his siblings, all in one body.
His body seemed very distant, vague and numb.
The cloud shifted under his back.
Since when did a cloud feel warm and cuddly? And when did a bed move around on its own?
He opened his eyes and choked on a shriek. His bed was an overgrown snake!
You loathe snakes, cried a panicked voice. You’re terrified of snakes! You get so shook from being near a snake that you have to fight not to puddle in your trousers. You’re a cowardly runt because of a snake.
“The hatchling should constrict its oral cavity.” Pale blue eyes blinked soothingly. “Otherwise the hatchling may ensnare a Musca domestica.”
I think it’s referring to me. And a house fly? Viper snapped his mouth shut. This is one wild dream. I told Lorel we shouldn’t eat those mushrooms.
“This one is pleased to observe the hatchling in a conscious state. This one may be identified as the Kyridon.”
“Viper,” he whispered. How could a snake speak so clearly without moving its lips? Did a snake even have lips?
Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3) Page 2
