by David Estes
He was joking, but Ousted didn’t laugh. Heinrich wondered if there was more truth to what he’d said than he thought.
Finally, the men waded waist-deep into the water while the others watched for any sign of danger. With a great “Heave-ho!” they shoved the raft as far out into the water as they could, before swiftly retreating to the safety of dry ground.
Heinrich held his breath, watching as the raft slowly bobbed out into the lake, dragging its cargo somewhere beneath the water’s surface. It caught the current, starting to turn, to move downstream, and—
Back to shore.
“Damn,” Heinrich said. The rest of the men groaned as the waders ran along the shoreline to retrieve the raft, which had gotten stuck on a jagged protruding rock.
“What now?” Ousted asked.
“Someone’s got to take it out further,” Heinrich said.
Ousted laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Good luck finding a volunteer for that job.”
Heinrich stared out into the water, eagle focused. “Good thing we don’t need to find a volunteer.”
“Why not?”
“Because we already have one.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
The warm water sent a thrill through Heinrich’s body, lapping against his shoulders and chin as he clung to the raft. He kicked as gently as he could, doing his best not to draw attention to his movement into the lake. He wore dark, tight underclothes, which he hoped would make him less visible than his pale skin without hindering his speed too much.
Still, he could easily see his churning legs beneath the water, which almost certainly meant the monster would be able to see them too.
The thought made him want to turn around and swim back to shore. Just a little further, he thought. He didn’t look back, though he sensed the anxious stares of his entire company of men on his back.
The sun seemed to be following his progress east, another silent spectator to whatever was about to transpire.
Finally, Heinrich hazarded a glance back to find he was a respectable distance from shore. He hoped it was far enough to prevent the current from dragging the raft back against the rocks. He prepared to give the raft one final shove before turning around.
His men started shouting.
A bubble of panic burst in his chest as he whipped his head around to find his men screaming and waving and pointing at something in the water.
Shiteshiteshite! he thought as he spun back around. What he saw sent a quake through his entire body:
A line of whitewater was being pushed to either side, forming a V that trailed away toward the opposite shore. Something dark and scaly was at the apex of the V, sliding as easily through the water as a knife through soft butter. A thick hump rose up attached to a head larger than three men lying end to end, enormous red half-sphere eyes roaming hungrily across the water.
The monster was headed right for him.
Heinrich didn’t think, just acted. Though his body was urging him to Swim! Swim dammit! he went against every instinct, instead climbing aboard the makeshift raft that wasn’t designed to hold the weight of a human. It bucked and writhed under his awkward weight, but he managed to keep his balance until it steadied. He looked back to find that the monster had cut the distance in half and seemed to be gaining speed as it closed in on its prey. Him.
Using small movements, Heinrich unsheathed the only weapon that had been small enough to carry with him out into the water: a small but sharp paring knife. It would be useless in direct combat against the creature, but he could use it to buy him some time. He went to work on the ropes that secured the bait to the raft, sawing them away at each corner.
When he’d cut away the last tether, the raft rose higher in the water as it released its underwater cargo. But it was too late—the monster was upon him, so close that he could see his own reflection in the glassy red eyes, which seemed to not only be staring at him, but staring through him, into his soul. Those eyes were ageless, timeless, ancient. That was the only way he could describe them later, like they’d seen everything from the beginning of time.
He didn’t stand a chance. Heinrich prepared to spring as far away from the raft as possible the moment the monster struck. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the eyes closed in…
And then vanished beneath the surface. Heinrich blinked, uncertain what to do. If the monster chose to come up from beneath him, he’d be swallowed in a single bite. Should he abandon the raft now, take his chances swimming to shore? But what if the monster was going after the bai—
Onshore, his men’s shouts changed from those of warning to excitement. Fear, too, but mostly excitement.
The metal chain burst from the water, going tight. Ousted was forced to dive out of the way to avoid getting slashed in half by the steel links as they snapped back and forth like a snake’s tail.
We’ve hooked it! Heinrich thought, his fear swiftly replaced with exhilaration. Momentarily forgetting his own plight, he watched as his men leaped into action. As planned, ten of them threw themselves on the chain, engaged in the most epic game of Haul the Rope the world had ever witnessed.
They dug their heels into small divots they’d cut into the snow for this very purpose, leaning back against the weight of the monster as it fought them.
The sled, even without its runners and weighed down by several enormous boulders, began to slide toward the water.
“No!” Gunther yelled, jumping dangerously in front of it with a dozen other men. They planted their own feet and pushed against the weight, stalling its progress.
The ten men on the chain tired and were replaced by ten more men.
The plan is working, Heinrich thought as his men settled into a rhythm, taking turns on the chain and holding back the sled. One group was always resting while the other two toiled. They all knew it could take hours to tire out the monster, but they were prepared for that, their stamina strong after months of hiking through the Mournful Mountains and across the northern tundra.
The monster was distracted, in a fight for its life. Time to make my escape. Lying flat on his stomach on the raft, Heinrich began to paddle for shore.
He was halfway there when something changed.
The chain went slack, causing his men to tumble backwards. Heinrich stopped paddling, watching as the metal links sunk back into the lake. What in the frozen hell?
He searched the water, which was suddenly as still as he’d ever seen it. Had they lost their prey? Had the monster chewed through the metal? Or perhaps the hook wasn’t planted deeply enough and slipped out. If so, would the creature swim far away? Or would it come back for him, for revenge?
On shore, the men had righted themselves and began to pull on the chain, which offered no resistance as they reeled it in.
Something stirred in the water, a faint ripple, moving straight for the shore. Straight for his men. “Watch out!” he screamed, instinct warning him that, even on dry land, they were the ones in danger, not him.
Surprised, his men stared at him, uncertain of what he was warning them about. They looked around and behind them, as if expecting an attack from the land.
That’s when the monster struck. It burst from the water as close to the shoreline as it could get, its dark sinuous body launching through the air, water spraying in all directions.
Heinrich watched in horrified awe. Out of the water, the creature was strangely beautiful, its scales seeming to change color—red, green, blue, gold—as they reflected the last rays of dying sunlight. Its tail was comprised of three large flippers which seemed to flap, propelling it through the air. It was unbelievably long, perhaps the length of twenty men lying head to feet. Its head was humped and Heinrich suspected it was bone-hard.
All of these thoughts spun through his head in an instant.
His men scattered like an armful of dropped kindling, releasing the chain and diving away. One of them, however, Matthias, was too slow.
&nb
sp; The monster’s open jaws landed on top of him, slamming his body to the rocky ground, snapping ferociously. With a powerful twist of its body, the beast turned and rolled back across the rocks, splashing back into the water and vanishing.
Something bumped the bottom of the raft, throwing Heinrich off balance.
He paddled for shore faster than ever, oblivious to the cries of his men as they righted themselves and urged him on. Another heavy impact shook the raft. Is it taunting me?
He was close now, so close he could see the bottom. I’m going to make it. Just two more strong paddles…
One voice rose above the rest. Ousted. “Behind you, Cap’n!”
Heinrich didn’t look back, instinct telling him there wasn’t time. Instead of paddling he rose rapidly to a crouch and then launched himself into the air, both forward toward shore but also to the side. He felt the raft rise up behind him, whacking him in the ankle and then shoulder, knocking him into an awkward, twisting flip. Gooosh! He hit the water headfirst with a powerful slap, water rushing around him, plugging his nose. It was disorienting, and for a moment he struggled to determine which way was up.
A dark behemoth slid past, bits of shattered wood flurrying around it like brown snowflakes.
Heinrich regained his wits, kicking hard for the surface, in the direction he hoped was shore. He came up gasping within arm’s reach of the same protruding rock that had previously captured the raft. Though he grabbed the rock, there was no need, for his men were already there, tucking strong hands under his armpits and hauling him out of the water. They didn’t lie him on the ground immediately—no, they’d all seen what the monster was capable of when it had grabbed Matthias—instead carrying him a distance back from the lake before settling him down in the snow.
One of them was Ousted. “Cap’n, you all right?”
“Fine,” Heinrich grunted, tasting warm water on his lips. He was soaked to the wick, his underclothes clinging to his body like a second skin. “Help me up.” Two of his men hauled him to his feet.
“You should rest,” Ousted advised.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead. We’ve got a battle to fight, and I won’t sit on the sideline like an invalid. That bastard has taken three of our own and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it escape again.”
As it turned out, by his own words, Heinrich was damned, because after a fight that lasted well into the night, until each and every man was exhausted to the point of muscle failure, the monster escaped, hauling the chain, sled, boulders and all into the water with a splash.
Twice it had attacked them again on shore, but they were ready for it, staying well away from where the monster landed each time.
Frustrated and bone-weary, none of them spoke as they ate a brief dinner and collapsed in their tents, not even having the energy to mourn their latest lost comrade.
For once, Heinrich was the first one up the next morning. His men were all fast asleep, a chorus of snores and breathing melting together in the otherwise still and silent predawn hours. His eyes half closed, he stumbled to the fire pit and struggled to start a fire, something he hadn’t done in a while. I’m spoiled by my men, he thought wryly. I need to take part in all aspects of camp life going forward. The thought made him laugh considering the circumstances, but he quickly cut himself off, remembering Matthias. “Sodding creature,” he muttered, tossing his flint aside when it, once more, failed to produce so much as a spark or wisp of smoke.
Now, more than ever, he wanted to see it dead. And yet, the thought of potentially losing another man in the process was more than he could fathom.
More awake now, he wandered down toward the lake’s edge. He froze, gawking at the shadow that fell over him. Impossible. I’m dreaming. I never woke up, I’m still in my tent fast asleep…
He approached the enormous carcass of the dead monster, its scales beginning to shimmer as the sun peeked over the horizon.
We did it. Somehow. Some way. We killed the bastard!
He ran a hand over the rough scales, shocked at how hard they were, each scale like an individual plate of armor. He was looking at the tail, moving back to front, the top of the sea creature’s humped head towering over him like the misshapen spire of some eccentric’s castle.
Something’s not right. Yes, they’d certainly tired it out to some degree the previous night. Yes, they’d hooked it and forced it to drag chain and sled into the water. But they hadn’t inflicted any real damage on the beast. And even if they had, would it really have become disoriented enough to swim back here in the night and beach itself directly perpendicular to their campsite? What were the odds? One in a thousand? More like one in a million.
Yet the truth was in the giant monster carcass resting right beside him.
As he came around to face the beast, he was hit by the truth in the form of its burned out eyes and toothless maw.
The dead flesh had been desecrated, the eyes removed by hot torches or pokers, the teeth pried out one by one. Taken.
Someone did this. Someone who’s not us.
“Cap’n?” a voice said from behind. Ousted. Behind him stood the rest of his men, having silently woken and wandered down to see what he’d found.
Someone or something more capable of surviving in this wilderness had killed the lake monster, of that Heinrich was certain. Still, he wasn’t certain what message the locals were trying to send them, if any. He didn’t want to make a rash decision, not when this might be the first step toward a peaceful alliance with the natives of the Hinterlands.
“I was foolish to think this far north would be deserted,” Heinrich said. “Especially after we discovered the warm lake water. I was too focused on that thing…that monster.” He gestured to the mountainous carcass.
“It’s all right, Cap’n,” Carver said. “We all were. We don’t fault you for it.”
“I know,” Heinrich said, “and I thank you for that. But it’s not all right. As your captain I have to think more broadly about every situation. I have to be ready for whatever comes, no matter how farfetched. Thus far I’ve failed you on this expedition, but I won’t let that happen again. I want opinions. And then I’ll make my decision.”
“It’s a peace offering,” Carver said right away. “Clearly someone was watching our failed efforts to kill the monster. Then they killed it for us and left us the meat. That’s a whole lot of meat, it’ll feed us for weeks. Why would an enemy provide us with sustenance?”
“To confuse us?” Ousted offered. “Or perhaps that thing’s meat isn’t edible, or poisoned. Who knows?”
“What about the burned out eyes?” Gunther said. “And the missing teeth?”
Heinrich nodded. “It was almost ritualistic—at least the eyes were. But the teeth…they could use them to make weapons.”
“Frozen hell,” Gunther said. “If I end up surviving that beast only to end up impaled on one of its fangs…” He let the thought hang.
“We should leave immediately,” Ousted said. “Our numbers are already too low. If whatever killed the monster comes for us in force we won’t stand a chance.”
Heinrich was inclined to agree. “Anyone opposed?”
No response.
“Fine. We leave immediately. Head southward, hugging the lake so we don’t get lost. From there we’ll make our way back to the pass through the mountains. Men, we’re finally heading home.”
The men clapped at the decision. Heinrich knew it was the right one.
The storm hit before nightfall.
“The snow is as thick as Gunther’s head,” Ousted said, shielding his eyes from the sideways snowfall with a broad hand.
“Thicker,” Gunther agreed.
Ousted chuckled. “We should make camp. We need to conserve warmth.”
Heinrich agreed, especially because darkness was falling with the speed of an avalanche, but something about the decision didn’t sit well with him. Ever since they departed earlier that day, he’d felt uneasy. Perhaps it was something he’d eaten, or t
he enormous lake monster carcass they’d left behind. Or perhaps it was his explorer’s instinct, the very same one that had saved his skin more times than he could count.
“We push on,” he said.
There were murmurs and grunts, but no one challenged the decision. Maybe they felt as uneasy as he did.
Soon, however, Heinrich began to regret his choice. They quickly lost their bearings, the frozen lake to the east as snow-covered as the rest of the landscape. For all he knew, they were already walking on it. For all he knew, they were walking in circles.
Their torches blew out from the wind or the cold, leaving them to travel in moonless darkness, barely able to see the man to their front or side.
Still, they pressed on.
“What’s that?” Carver asked, shouting over the howling wind.
Heinrich cocked his head, but couldn’t hear or see anything. He peeled back his thick knit cap and the scarf wrapped around it so his hearing wasn’t so muffled. He heard it. A beat, faint at first—so soft it could’ve been the pounding of his own heart—but growing louder with each successive instance.
Thum-thum...Thum-thum…THUM-THUM…THUM-THUM…
“Sounds like drums,” Ousted said, echoing what Heinrich was certain everyone was already thinking. But still, having his thoughts vocalized sent a wave of dread crashing through him.
“We’re being hunted,” he said.
In the dark, snow stinging their faces, they fled. Or at least tried to. The snow and wind fought them every step of the way, but they fought back, their muscles straining, their breath grunting from their lungs.
THUM-THUM…THUM-THUM…
The drumbeats were steady for a while, but then suddenly got louder, so loud they felt almost on top of them.
THUM-THUM!
And then, just like that, the drums stopped. Heinrich raised his hand, and one by one his men halted, their breaths misting the air. “Do you think we lost them?” Carver asked.
Heinrich put a finger to his mouth, listening. He heard nothing. He licked his lips, and it was like he could taste the air. It smelled of smoke and pine and something moist.
