The Nivaka Chronicles Boxed Set

by Leslie E Heath

  Fire ripped through his leg, and Aibek clawed at the limbs above. Unable to pull himself up, he glanced back at the ground and the creature intent on his death. The emrialk had buried its claws in his calf, pinning him to the side of the tree halfway up. It screamed in fury as he kicked, struggling to free himself from its deadly grasp. With another swing, the emrialk crushed his knee against the tree trunk.

  The bark crumbled and dug into his leg, the torn leather failing to protect him. Aibek's head swam from the pain as he desperately grappled with a branch above. He had to get away. His pack caught on a nearby branch, yanking his hand off the limb and leaving him dangling far above the ground. His friends climbed through the branches above, following his movement from the safety of the canopy. He yearned to climb up to them. Instead, he lowered himself until the pack came loose, swung it off his shoulders and tossed it down into the creature's face. The knapsack connected with the creature's twitching snout and it screeched, tossing its head to dislodge the bag. The emrialk moved its paw and Aibek scrambled up the tree.

  Aylen and Kai pulled him further into the branches, and Aibek leaned against the tree trunk. Blood poured from three deep gashes in his right leg and several on his head. Dizzy, Aibek remembered the packet of herbs Tamyr had given him on his last night in Nivaka. The pack had been sacrificed to the emrialk and was now being tossed and crushed as the creature used it as an outlet for its unsated fury.

  Head swimming, Aibek tried to focus on stopping the crimson flow. His hands fumbled at his belt, but he couldn’t untie the knot.

  Someone pushed his hands away. “I’ll take care of it. You just sit back and rest.” The voice came through a long tunnel, echoing off the sides before Aibek succumbed to the blackness.

  13

  Creatures

  Before Faruz could find a comfortable position in his bedroll, he heard whispers on the other side of the fire. Glancing over at Wayra’s bedroll, he hoped the others wouldn’t get loud. Wayra still needed his rest if he was going to make it to the swamp.

  Rolling back toward the fire, he strained to hear the words, hoping they didn’t mark the beginning of a feud between Hekma and Dalan.

  “Hey.”

  That was Dalan’s voice. Faruz rolled toward the fire so he could hear.

  “Yeah?” Hekma’s rough voice answered.

  “Wouldn’t my mother have told me if I was part elf?” Dalan’s voice again.

  Hekma cleared his throat. “I don’t know. What would it change?”

  “Nothing, I guess. I just wish I had known,” Dalan said.

  A long silence followed, and someone stirred nearby. Amiran's broad form loomed over the flames, filling Faruz's view. Amiran nodded his greeting and tossed more fuel on the fire. The skinny twigs and sticks available wouldn't burn for long. It would be an all-night job to keep the blaze going.

  Amiran’s whisper carried over the fire’s crackle. “Good night, Captain.”

  With a smile, Faruz wished his friend good night and rolled over toward the empty hillside. The clouds had dissipated during the day, and the sky shone with the brilliance of countless stars. The slender crescent of Koviom marched across the darkness, illuminating some of the hills nearby, while Ilodus struggled to clear the western horizon. Thrimanca wouldn’t rise until midnight.

  “Now that I think of it, Mother always corrected me whenever I said anything bad about the ground folk.” Dalan’s voice lifted above a whisper. “Just one more question, then I’ll leave you alone: if the elves and dwarves breed with Nivakans, why don’t they breed with each other? Is there some rule I don’t know about that forbids it?”

  Hekma’s laugh echoed in the darkness. “No, they try often enough, and it’s not unheard of for elves and dwarves to intermarry, but no children have ever come from such pairings. We don’t know why.”

  “Oh…I wonder why that is…why they can’t have babies, I mean. We’ll have to ask my father about that later. For now, let’s get some sleep.”

  A grunt, then silence. Faruz stared out into the starry night and considered their task. They had been assigned to go into the swamp in early winter, find the sentient tree, and bring its fruit back to the forest to cure the disease ravaging the Shadow Trees. Was this real? It sounded crazy. Perhaps he had lost his mind instead of his leg.

  He watched the moons march across the night sky, drifting off to sleep as Thrimanca made its weekly debut.

  * * *

  The sun rose on a cold, cloudless morning, and the travelers huddled around the fire, eating their beans and biscuits. Faruz unwound the last bandages from Amiran's arms and redressed Wayra's wounds. The scratches on Amiran's arms were pink and puckered with healing tissue, and the angry redness had disappeared.

  Wayra's face had returned to its usual complexion, with no sign of the frightening pallor, and Amiran awoke energetic and alert.

  “What?” Wayra stared back, his lips drawn in a tight line. “Does it look bad?”

  “No, not at all. It’s healing well. Your color’s back to normal, too. I think you’ll be fine.” Faruz tried not to breathe the pungent fumes as he slathered the healer’s pasty concoction onto the wounds.

  It didn’t take them long to pack up and get back on the road. If he remembered right, it was four days’ walk from Kainga to the swamp, so they needed to make it further today. He stretched his stiff leg the way Valasa had taught him and worked to keep up with his friends. Had these hills been so steep before? He didn’t remember struggling to make it up each incline, and going down was almost as hard. His knee throbbed by lunchtime, but he refused to stop. They needed to get to the swamp–and back to Nivaka–before winter set in.

  * * *

  The days dragged on in the monotonous landscape, and Faruz cut a tally into his pack strap. Five days passed before they caught sight of the black swamp on the horizon at twilight. They stopped for the night within view of their goal and continued at first light. The sun was halfway to its zenith when the friends stepped into the murky bog. Faruz gagged on the stench of stagnant water and rotting vegetation, while Dalan vomited into the swamp beside the muddy road. Amiran and Wayra tied handkerchiefs around their faces. Aibek and Serik had done that the year before, so Faruz followed suit. The soothing scent of the inn's laundry soap helped dispel some of the rank swampy smell. Once he could breathe, Faruz lit the lantern he had brought along. He led the way into the swamp, following the road.

  They walked for the rest of the morning before he stopped on a dry patch of road and turned to his companions.

  “So, does anyone know how we’re supposed to find the tree that’s in charge of all this beauty?”

  Dalan gagged again and shook his head.

  With a grimace and a laugh, Amiran surveyed the watery landscape, while Hekma peered into the dimness to his left. Wayra met Faruz’s eyes and shrugged.

  Something substantial splashed in the distance, and Hekma jumped. His head whipped around to glare at Faruz.

  “Just tell me we’re not going in there.” He pointed to the muddy water beside the path. “I don’t know what’s in that, but I’m sure it’s not friendly.

  “Well, if we stay on the road, it will take us straight out the other side.” His hand went to the heavy medallion hanging over his heart. “We need to find the Saethem, or we’ve wasted our time.”

  The dwarf scowled but didn’t argue, and Faruz forced a smile.

  “Just think of the stories we’ll have to tell after this, right?” Faruz said.

  “Stories?” Wayra bellowed. “I’m worried about getting out of here alive, and you’re thinking of stories?” His voice pitched higher with each word, and Faruz placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I think we’re all a bit tense. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit. Let’s stay on the road for a while longer. If I remember it right, it took us three days to make it all the way through last year, so we need to go deeper in before we turn off the path.”

  Staring into the darkness beyo
nd the road, Wayra paled. "I'm not looking forward to that; I won't lie."

  Dalan gagged again and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Oh, wonderful. Let’s get this over with so we can get out of here.”

  “You’ll adjust to the smell,” Faruz said. “I think it took us less than a day the last time.”

  Faruz tamped down his own nausea and rising panic and raised the lantern out beside him again. They needed to keep moving; his boots were sinking into the soft, wet soil. If they stayed there much longer, he wouldn't be able to free himself.

  * * *

  Dragging his weak leg, Faruz led his group through the sucking mud. They had turned off the road several hours earlier and followed a patchy, narrow trail of higher ground that led toward the center of the bog. All around them, unseen creatures followed their progress. Incessant splashes, chirps, and squeaks echoed among the moss-draped trees.

  Faruz jerked the lantern toward every sound, but the path became more important, and he worked to keep it out to his side, lest he blind himself with the flickering light. He worked to ignore the reflective eyes watching through the mist.

  Startled by a nearby splash, Hekma stumbled and slid, and Dalan pressed close to Faruz's back. Amiran stayed at the rear of the group, holding his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

  Shivering, Faruz paused on a dry patch and rested against a tree. He pulled at his saturated breeches, rubbing his legs and arms and stamping his feet to generate warmth. Rustling and stomping reverberated through the swamp as his companions did what they could to warm up in the piercing cold.

  I’d love a fire right now.

  He glanced around the bog and met the reflective gaze of a mostly-submerged creature through the trees.

  The shadows deepened with every passing moment. They would have to figure out a plan for the night. These dry patches had grown more frequent in the past few hours. Perhaps if they kept going, they could find a place large enough to camp.

  Without a word, Faruz shoved off the tree and tromped down the trail. His breath puffed out in front of him; the temperature had dropped further. Something stung his neck, and he slapped at it, squashing a large insect beneath his palm. He wiped his hand on his pants and scratched at the itching, burning spot where the mosquito had bitten him.

  “How much longer are we going tonight? It’s starting to get dark.” Wayra echoed Faruz’s earlier thought.

  The unexpected question startled Faruz, and he wobbled, extending his arms to keep from falling into the water beside the narrow path. The water covered his boots up to his ankles, but a step to either side the shallow trail fell away, and he couldn't see the bottom.

  He righted himself and considered the deepening shadows. “You’re right. Any thought on how to make camp in this?”

  Before anyone could answer, something wrapped around Faruz’s right ankle and yanked.

  “Hey! Get away from the water,” he screamed to the others. “Something’s got my leg.”

  With two members of the party weakened from their recent poisoning, they didn’t have the force to stand against whatever lurked within the swamp.

  Desperate, he grabbed his sword, struggling to stay upright, but his assailant had hold of his good leg, and his wounded left leg couldn't support him for long. The muscles in his thigh quivered as he pulled against the unseen assailant, and sweat broke out on his brow. His attacker pulled harder, churning the water and clouding it with mud.

  He tried again to unsheathe his sword but had to press his arm against a tree for balance when his enemy yanked again. The tugging eased, and he reached for his sword, only to stumble when the creature jerked again. He toppled, falling into the water with a splash.

  As Faruz fought against whatever pulled him toward the deeper water, Dalan yelled and kicked at the water. He dropped to his back in the shallow water and clung to a low branch, the water beside him frothing with the assailant’s movements.

  Amiran had his sword ready but hesitated. The creature–or creatures–had muddied the waters and Faruz couldn't see beneath the surface.

  “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll get you free,” Amiran shouted, hacking at the murk.

  Faruz cringed with each swing, fearing another crippling injury. How would he survive with both legs wounded?

  Distracted by Amiran's desperate chopping, Faruz lost his balance and fell backward into the mud. He landed with a splash and slid along the slippery ground toward the deeper water. He dug his hands in, trying to find purchase in the slime beneath the shallow water. The mud slid between his fingers and over his hands, coating his wrists and forearms in foul-smelling sludge as he continued to slip away from his team. He searched desperately for a root, a rock–anything he could use to gain leverage, but found nothing. Without warning, he dropped off the narrow path they had followed, and rancid water flooded into his mouth and nose. He surfaced an instant later, gagging and coughing, but his assailant dragged him farther into the swamp. If the creature succeeded in pulling him into open water, he would die. Zifa's face flashed through his mind and determination welled in him. He had to keep fighting, to finish his mission and get home to his new wife.

  He struggled to keep his head above water, all the while watching to be sure Dalan didn't get pulled under. He'd already lost sight of Wayra and Hekma; hopefully, they had managed to find safety.

  None of the villagers knew how to swim. Faruz and Aibek had spent some time the past summer teaching some of them to float and tread water. He pulled his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, but the seething water filled his vision and splashed into his mouth and nose, burning his sinuses. He flipped himself onto his belly–maybe he could get a better grip that way–and his knee twisted, the pain robbing him of breath. Still, he fought, grasping a submerged root and holding on with all his strength.

  His hand slid down the length of the slender root, and he reached out with his other hand. His fingers found a tangled knot of roots, and he clung to it, the muscles in his arms shaking as he fought to keep his head above water.

  The creature let go, and Faruz raised his eyes from the water to the sagging trees surrounding him. Amiran stood with both hands on his sword handle, the weapon raised over his head. Rivers of blood ran down his arms and from a series of slashes above his knee.

  The form of an enormous serpent floated in the water, bleeding from dozens of gashes along its body. It was at least as big around as Faruz himself, and longer than three men put together. While he watched, it twitched, flicked its long skinny tail, and swam off into the murky water, something else rippling the waters beside and behind it.

  Faruz wiped his eyes on his shoulder–the cleanest spot he could find on his filthy tunic. “Do you think it’s dead?”

  "It's badly wounded, if not dying. It won't bother us anymore today." Amiran sagged against a tree and sheathed his sword.

  “What happened? Did you get bitten?” Alarmed, Aibek surveyed Amiran’s injuries.

  “It’s nothing. That thing tried to take my sword, but I wasn’t giving it up. I’m fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

  While scanning the watery landscape, Faruz's breath hitched in his throat.

  “Where’s Wayra? Hekma? They didn’t go under, did they?” He hauled himself up onto the shallow shelf they had been following and peered into the dark forest.

  Turning, he reached down and helped Dalan out of the deep water, steadying him until the smaller man had regained his equilibrium.

  "I'm here," Hekma called. "I hope you don't think I'm a coward–because I'm not–but I can't swim so I couldn't have helped if I tried. I thought it best to keep myself safe by climbing."

  Faruz barked out a humorless laugh. “Of course, I don’t think less of you. It’s a good idea, though. We can probably spend the night in the trees and keep ourselves safer than down here in the muck. Has anyone seen Wayra?”

  “Over here!” Wayra’s voice echoed through the swamp and Faruz couldn’t tell wh
ich direction it came from.

  He glanced around, relaxing when Wayra stepped away from a broad willow and moved toward him.

  “I’m still a little weak, so I tried to stay away from whatever that was.” He eyed Amiran’s wounds. “I’m sorry I didn’t help any.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” Amiran insisted.

  "I've still got some of Androu's poultice. Hopefully, it didn't get this water in it," Faruz said. "Come here, and I'll see what we can do."

  With a hard shake, he flung the muddy slime off his hands and spat the foul-tasting water out of his mouth. He longed for fresh water to rinse off with; even the icy stream they’d bathed in a few days before would be preferable to the stench of rot that clung to his dripping clothes.

  The wounded man stepped toward him and wobbled. Water splashed up around him when Amiran fell to his knees.

  "Amiran!" Faruz struggled over to his friend, his legs trembling from the ordeal.

  He reached the spot where Amiran knelt in the mud and grabbed the larger man’s arm.

  “Get up. You can’t rest here.” Faruz’s voice quavered. “The tree behind you has some low limbs you can sit on.”

  Amiran raised one foot and dropped it again. “I…I can’t. I can’t stand up.”

  “Hey!” Faruz adjusted his grip on Amiran’s blood-slick arm. “Help me get him up.”

  Wayra wrapped Amiran’s other arm over his shoulders and Dalan positioned himself in front of the injured man, hands braced in his chest.

  “Lift together on three,” Faruz commanded. “One… Two…”

  “Wait,” Amiran whispered. “I can’t do it.”

  Sweat streamed from his pale face, and Faruz shook his head.

  “No. We have to get you out of the water. Let us do the work. THREE!”

  Faruz heaved Amiran upward, aided by the others. They dragged him toward the tree but only made it halfway before Amiran slumped forward and went limp in their arms. Unable to support him without his help, they lowered him onto a dry patch, lay him on his back, and gathered around.