by D M Fike
Vincent lifted his head, his expression softening. “I know what that’s like.”
I flashed him a grin. “Oh, do you now, Mr. Game Warden?”
“Some in my family do not approve of me becoming a police officer. They don’t respect authority all that much. They also thought I’d fail out of the academy. Yet, here I am, despite all of that.”
“The world’s full of haters, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Vincent emphasized each word.
The distinctive hum of an engine sounded in the distance, approaching from a few miles out.
“Sounds like your ride,” I said. Then I snorted when I imagined what would happen next. “Your police report’s going to read like bad internet fanfic. Good luck explaining me to your buddies.”
Vincent shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t.”
I did a double take. “Come again?”
“What could I possibly say? That I came out here on my own chasing a wizard and got knocked off the road by the Big Bad Wolf? The guys are already making fun of the phantom girl I keep running into, but who disappears from every crime scene without a trace.”
I felt touched by his words. Then I had to rub it in. “Is this your normal dating scene, or am I a new notch on your belt?”
He smiled at me, and it took my breath away. No one had smiled at any of my ridiculous comments in a super long time. I didn’t even realize how much I missed it until I saw him standing there, his entire attention focused on me.
Headlights blinked down the road. “You better go.” He shooed me toward the forest. “You need to get to Thor’s Well.”
I frowned in confusion. Thor’s Well was basically a big hole in the basalt shoreline of Cape Perpetua. It’s a crowded tourist attraction where the ocean forces incoming waves to spray upward in a geyser-like swell. “Why would I go there?”
“Because the seals are acting very strange there, and we’ve found a few more corpses in the forest beyond,” he said. “Didn’t you want to know where the seals where?”
My heart pounded as I finally got the answer I’d wanted all along. I leaned forward, half thinking to hug Vincent, but stopped myself in time. Instead, I grabbed him for a weird half-handshake. “Thanks!”
He squeezed back. “What’s your name?”
“Ina.” I couldn’t have stopped myself at that moment if I’d tried. I did save some face by slipping out of his grasp and dashing into the woods. Guntram, here I come.
“Stop by the hospital afterward!” he yelled after me. “Let me know you’re okay!”
* * *
Thor’s Well might be a big feature in the middle of the day, but it wasn’t a super active place on a random spring night. I trotted down the asphalt along the highway, wondering if I could see much from the scenic viewpoint. Past the parking lot near the trail, someone had set up a series of cones with an orange and white sign saying “CLOSED.” They had also taped an unhelpful piece of paper to the side that read: “HAZARDOUS CONDITIONS. KEEP OFF SHORE.”
Thank you, vague warning. But it convinced me I was on the right track.
At a glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary below. The full moon gave me a clear view of Thor’s Well. It must have been low tide because water mostly dribbled out of its sides, only the largest swells causing an upward splash. Other waves crashed along a narrow inlet called Cook’s Chasm, where the incoming water didn’t have a lot of places to go. I didn’t spot any seals though.
Frustrated, I would have left the area entirely had I not heard a loud “caw” in the distance.
Ravens. Guntram was definitely nearby. I leaned over the stone wall for a better look, where I thought I’d heard the cry. When a second “caw” rang out, I spotted a raven swooping far north of Thor’s Well, just past the ridge that led farther onto the beach. Squinting in that direction, I made out four other ravens circling the area like ebony vultures.
Bingo.
I pushed off from the stone wall, skirting past the keep out sign and down the trail that plunged into the forest before re-emerging closer to the shore. By the time I made it to the cliffs that overlooked the shore again, I was completely exposed by an open rock field. I crouched low to the ground as I slid to the edge, peeking over the side.
Several dozen ravens circled a narrow V-shaped inlet, where the ocean water churned and crashed below even at low tide. Fechin, larger than the others, swooped out of the bunch to land on my shoulder.
I’d never been so happy to see the feathered minion. “Guntram’s here, isn’t he?”
He squawked an affirmative caw.
“It’s the cockatrice, isn’t it?”
Fechin flapped his wings in a panic that could only mean yes.
“So where is Guntram? Did he face the cockatrice alone? Is he alive?”
My questions sent Fechin into a panic, flapping around my head so fast he lost a flurry of feathers. He was obviously distressed, urging me to move forward. I couldn’t communicate directly with Fechin, but I guessed that somewhere down below the rock shores was a cockatrice nest. Guntram had to be close by.
“All right, all right, Fechin. I’ll go check it out.”
With this promise, the bird flew back to his buddies.
The cliffs offered no footpath down to the inlet, so I slapped one palm against the earth and drew a triangle inside a square with my free hand. Then I scooted over the edge, making sure my palms stayed on the rock wall. My hands then stuck to the wall via my earth pith. I scurried down the sheer incline like a gecko, boots on the ground in a matter of seconds.
Running toward the ocean spray, I found Vincent’s strange seal behavior. The churning water of the inlet had become a pinniped playground. Harbor seal heads bobbed up for air like apples, only to disappear again. They did not bark or make any noise, quite unusual for the little socialites. Then again, I had never known seals to mess around such dangerous, choppy water. A few seals came frighteningly close to smashing themselves on the sharp rocks lining the sides. The situation would only become more dangerous as the tide came in.
“What are you guys doing down there?” I called down to them.
One of them turned her head in my direction and squealed. She dove into the waters and resurfaced a few seconds later closer to me. Barking again, she repeated this process several times, almost frantic in her swimming dance.
She wanted me to dive into the water with her.
I’m an okay swimmer and can create an air pocket air if I need to breathe underwater. Still, I couldn’t predict how my puny human body would fare in the ice-cold waters of the Pacific Ocean. “Where’s Ronan?” I asked her.
The dryant’s name sent the harbor seal into a frenzy, diving with even more exaggerated strokes into the waves.
Great. Ronan was probably trapped with Guntram.
I took off my hiking boots, preparing for the very stupid but necessary task of plunging into the unknown. I hesitated, dangling my feet above the ten-foot drop that would launch me next to the seal. I had no idea what I was getting into.
The seal must have sensed my reservation. She scolded me with a series of short barks, a frantic growl building in her throat.
“Okay, okay, I get it!” I yelled back. I latched onto my fire charm, drew an extra heat sigil, and scooted off the ledge.
The extra warmth helped but didn’t stop the ocean’s chill from penetrating deep into my bones. I gasped as I bobbed up for air. The seal swam up beside me, pushing her blubbery torso against mine.
I threw one arm around her neck, stabilizing myself to draw a line of Vs surrounding a sideways S. The sigil combined my water and air pith, creating an oxygen bubble around my face for me to breathe.
“This probably isn’t the smartest thing I’ve done,” I told the seal as I wrapped my second arm around her, “but let’s go.”
The seal ducked under the water, taking me with her. I clung onto her for dear life as she led me into the murky depths below the inlet, toward the watery caves belo
w.
CHAPTER 16
FOR THE RECORD, it’s really hard holding onto a harbor seal as she squiggles through the water. I lost my grip several times in the dark as she dragged me farther downward. She circled around each time to find me again, wet fur pushing up against my forearms. I finally locked my hands and wrists together around her neck, trying not choke her as she led me underneath the basalt shoreline.
Darkness quickly overtook the waters. I couldn’t see anything in the pitch blackness, not even where we had come from. I hated the directionless sensation. If I had lost the seal then, she could have swum away and I would never have found my way back. We traveled far enough that even my air pocket started to feel a little tight. I didn’t have much oxygen left. I took slow, calming breaths, hoping I would not run out of air before the seal led me to our destination.
When we did finally break the surface again, I let my oxygen bubble pop so I could inhale. I breathed a lungful of the most putrid air: a mixture of rotting flesh and mildew all rolled into a dank, enclosed space. I gagged as my feet gripped a rocky outcropping, and I dragged myself blind onto wet rocks.
Legs still dangling in the water, I clasped my fire charm, expending precious pith to ignite a tiny flame from one fingertip to better view this pit of despair. I found myself in a cramped cavern of rock. Several feet away, toward the back wall, I could just make out the outline of a cave entrance, the source of the stench.
“Is Ronan back there?” I asked the bobbing seal. “Or Guntram?”
The ungrateful critter responded by disappearing back underwater, never to return.
“Wonderful.” Well, seals weren’t known for their bravery. I pulled myself out of the water and dried myself off with a quick sigil. I winced as barnacles poked at my bare feet, but at least I had direct access to earth pith. The oppressive atmosphere down here left little air pith, and I would need to merge all three elements to create a constant light source. I absorbed as much water as my pithways and charm could hold, then approached the cavern, my fingerflame the only point of light in the gloom.
The cavern ceiling ended up being an obnoxious foot shorter than me, meaning I had to crouch-walk my way through it. My neck and back protested as I bent at contorted angles and scuttled over the rocks. At least the barnacles receded, indicating that water rarely flowed through this section of the cavern. Huzzah for not drowning if the tide returned. That didn’t prevent the smell from giving me a headache, even though I breathed through my mouth.
The ceiling abruptly opened, and I stumbled into a huge underground cavern. A draft circulated around me in a dizzying swirl. I swung my fingerflame to and fro, determining the space to be about twenty feet tall and three times as wide across. The walls on either side of me faded into obscurity, giving me no sense of how deep the room went. Stalactites and stalagmites formed uneven columns here and there, their shadows dancing on the jagged walls. I could hear a loud echo of waves, meaning ocean water had some sort of access to this space.
But what really stood out was the soft clicking. Though it was subtle at first, I tensed as I pinpointed the direction of its source just before a Labrador-sized cockatrice launched at me, rooster eyes wide with fury.
I stiffened as its gaze solidified all my limbs in place. Its sharp beak grazed my forearm, but I managed to flip out of its direct path at the last second. Still, that small nick sent a series of painful shoots up my arm. My inner pith drained outward with my blood before I slapped a fiery finger against it, searing the wound shut. That hurt like hell, but it at least held my pith in place and dulled the pain to a manageable ache.
Yikes. Not only had the little bastards grown a few sizes, even minor cuts packed a debilitating punch. No wonder Guntram still hadn’t healed after daddy cockatrice took a chomp out of him.
The adolescent vaettur wasted no time as it rounded on me again, gaze piercing mine. My earth pith once again weighed me down. Grabbing onto my necklace, I absorbed a little from all four pith charms as I drew the banishment sigil. I finished just as its beak came snapping down toward my face.
The cockatrice disintegrated into a plume of smoke, rushing up my nose. Co-mingled with the decay of the cavern, it threw me into a hacking fit.
“D…Dammit,” I cursed between coughs.
“Ina,” a voice hissed. “Is that you?”
“Guntram!” I raised my hand, letting fire pith roll over all five fingers to create a huge torch of light. He called several more times, and I followed his voice to find my augur slumped over a slimy rock. His defensive charm formed a hazy shield around him that I could just make out in the shadows. He relinquished the barrier as I approached, allowing me to crouch next to him.
Guntram looked like he’d lost a major fight. Pale even in the dim lighting, he had lines of dirt etched all over his skin. His hair was matted with blood from a cut on his scalp, and he favored his bum arm, holding it tightly to his side as if it might fall off if he let go.
I let out a high-pitched gasp at his appearance.
“Shhh,” Guntram whispered, a slight moan to his voice. “Keep your voice down.”
“Guntram,” I repeated at lower volume. “What happened to you?”
He struggled to turn himself over. I expected his arm to be bad, but I gasped as he moved his elbow upward to expose a nasty gash through his tunic. Something had taken a bloody chunk out of his abdomen.
“It’s the mother,” he wheezed. “She struck me.”
The hairs rose on the back of my neck as I remembered her size. I whirled around, glancing into the darkness, but Guntram patted my leg. “Don’t worry. She’s gone hunting.”
“I know,” I said. “I saw her lurking above ground.”
“She’ll be back soon. She only leaves for an hour or two at most.”
I grimaced when I thought of how Guntram had learned about the vaettur’s daily habits. “How long have you been down here?”
“More than a day,” he rasped. “Maybe two.”
“Two days!” I had to force myself to lower my voice again. “For the love of Nasci, Guntram, why haven’t you fled?”
“Because of this,” he patted the slimy rock he was lying against.
I opened my mouth to retort that he didn’t have a rock collection when the stone moved of its own accord. It rose and fell in a rhythmic breathing pattern. Skirting to the side, I found a pair of stubby antlers and woeful set of eyes staring forlornly at me.
Guntram had been draped over Ronan, not a rock.
“The cockatrice had devoured most of Ronan’s pith when I found the den,” Guntram explained. “I managed to fight her off, but she injured me in the attack. I’ve been rationing my water pith to keep Ronan alive, and so far, my defensive charm is keeping the cockatrices at bay, but I’m running out of pith.”
I yanked the water charm off my own necklace. “Here,” I slapped it into Guntram’s hands. “Pump that seal full of water pith. He needs to get us out of here.”
Guntram nodded. “I’ll take care of Ronan while you banish the three remaining babies.”
“Three?” I blinked in surprise. “I’ve only counted one.”
As if on cue, the cavern suddenly filled with clicking noises, their exact location hard to pinpoint given how sound bounced off the walls in this acoustic nightmare.
I drew a cross with my free hand, both hands surging with fire. “Looks like I got a pair of turkeys to roast.”
“Don’t look them in the eyes!” Guntram yelled as I dashed away from him. “They can penetrate your defensive charm if your earth pith grows too sluggish!”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. I’d figured that all out on my own. What I didn’t have was a plan as I scrambled into the cavern, hoping to lure the young cockatrices away from Guntram and Ronan. I had one on either side of me, their shadows tall and flickering on the opposite walls as I dodged in between columns of stone. The clicking intensified as they flanked me on either side, preparing to ram me simultaneously.
I’d
never taken on two vaetturs at once before, much less alone, but instinct told me to try separating them. Keeping my gaze on the ground instead of at their eye level, I cut over to the enemy on the right, rushing headfirst into a leathery wing and hooked claw.
As I hoped, my blow caught the cockatrice by surprise, knocking it over. It clicked furiously as it rolled along the ground. I didn’t waste a second, focusing all the fire pith in my hands toward the vaettur. Despite my speed, I only got halfway through the banishment sigil when an inconspicuous blob knocked me off balance.
My back hit a stalagmite. Hard. It knocked the air out of my lungs, and the light in the cavern flickered as my fire pith waned.
Scratching sounds rustled toward me. Panicking, I lifted both fiery hands up and found myself staring into the dual eyes of a pair of cockatrices, one sprawled across the ground, the other crouching toward me like a tiger.
Immediately, I froze in place. I tried to move but couldn’t. Terror swept through me as the cockatrice I’d knocked over returned to its clawed feet, assuming the same hunter’s stance as its sibling. The clicking sent goosebumps all over my skin as they circled me, snapping their beaks, testing if I would flinch.
I didn’t. I couldn’t.
When the one closest to me leaped into the air, talons spread and beak ready to snap my face, I either needed to move or die. I couldn’t physically budge from my position, but the only thing keeping my eyes locked with theirs was the fire burning in my hand. I cut off my fire pith, which doused the flame and enshrouded the cavern back in darkness.
The lack of eye contact broke their freeze effect, and I shuffled backward. I heard the cockatrice’s beak clamp shut inches from my ear, its scales pushing into my space. I grabbed onto a leathery wing and used the vaettur’s own forward momentum to curve it in an arc, slamming its head against the stalagmite that had knocked me silly just moments before. Hearing the satisfying crunch of something inside its body breaking, I gathered up my remaining earth pith and drew the banishment star right on top of its nasty scales.
