“I can hear water below. Let’s head to the bottom and see what’s what.”
It was a pleasant descent. The path was easy to traverse and the peculiar way the mosses grew upon the stone was captivating.
At the bottom of the cavern, water flowed from a gaping hole in the wall, filling a shelf basin with sparkling water which then cascaded into basins below it before disappearing underground. Patsy was in awe. To her, it seemed the gods had forged a fountain of crystalline magnificence. Orchids grew in abundance amongst the stones, their delicate flowers a melding of pink and blue.
“Hand me the torch for a moment,” said Ravage as she knelt beside the blossoming orchids. Patsy obliged. With greater light to inspect the flowers, Ravage grinned.
“What’s the smile for?”
“These are crypt orchids,” said Ravage as she began digging at their roots with her dagger. “They’re extremely rare. Each flower is worth about five hundred gold coins.”
“Why are they worth so much?”
“They’re used in alchemy to brew powerful elixirs and potions,” she said, using great care not to damage the plants as she rummaged in the soil. “The roots are supposed to contain magical properties too.”
“Are you digging up the roots, then?”
“No. I’m after the bulbs,” said Ravage. Plucking one free, she handed it to Patsy. “I’ll cultivate them in our cellar once we have our own place and these wonderful plants will make us piles of gold. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll teach myself how to brew potions. I’ve always wanted to learn alchemy.”
“Cellar? Why the cellar?”
“They grow in the dark,” said Ravage, gesturing to their surroundings.
“Oh, of course!” Smiled Patsy. “How many are you getting?” She noticed Ravage had amassed quite a pile of the bulbs.
“A good many,” said Ravage. “Most of them will probably rot or spoil. We don’t know when we’ll be heading for home either, so, the more I bring the more chance I have of getting some that will grow. I’ll be pretty upset if I carry these around for hundreds of miles only to have them not sprout.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure!” Patsy chuckled to herself.
“What’s that about?”
“Oh, I’m just picturing you carrying around bags full or rocks and bulbs and all sorts of random objects that you can’t help yourself from keeping,” teased Patsy. “I think you might actually have a problem with hoarding.”
“I do not! I just like collecting things, is all.”
“Well, you’re just lucky we have the monks’ bags now. Otherwise, you’d be carrying everything round in your pockets!”
Ravage stood, carefully packing the last bulb in her bag. “That’s true.” She turned her attention to the cascading water. “Alright. Let’s put the jade frog in one of these basins and then we can be on our way.”
Deep colours within the jade stone appeared much more vibrant once immersed in the water. The garnets looked simply dazzling. The frog statue had a radiance about it, a blessing released. The monks may have died, but their task was now completed and in that, Ravage felt a great sense of satisfaction.
“Where are the panguar?” Patsy could not see them near the cave entrance. She expected to find the pair of big cats basking in the sun.
“Must have wandered off.” Ravage looked to the crest of the hill. The silhouette of a large creature moved amongst the gnarled trees. At first, its movements seemed quite erratic, circling the trees with its long tentacle legs before crouching low, bringing its wasp-like head close to the ground. Its abdomen was large, bloated. A monstrosity of bone and toxic rotting flesh. Grabbing Patsy by the arm, Ravage pulled her into the long grass.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh,” Ravage raised a finger to her lips and whispered. “That’s a devoid stalker. It looks like it’s sniffing out where we’ve been up on the hill. We need to get out of here right now.”
“Can’t we just kill it?”
Ravage shook her head. “That monster is a thousand times deadlier than a shorku. It spits acid and is a nasty beast to try and kill. Supposedly, when they’re wounded they go psycho,” she crouched on her knees close to the ground.” Follow me and stay low. Thank the gods for this long grass!”
“Won’t it just follow our trail?” Patsy said as she followed behind. Escaping a beast that hunted by scent was no easy task.
“Yes. It will find and follow our trail,” which was not a thought Ravage enjoyed. “I’m hoping it will go into the cave and look around first. Once we’re over the next hill and it can’t see us, we run. We run like the devil is on our tail.”
Crawling, the pair made a stealthy retreat across the open grasslands. A rapid and high-pitched clicking emanated from the monster’s hideous mouth as it coursed towards the cave. Its tentacles carried its body with surprising speed for a creature of its size. Ravage froze, not daring to move. If the beast spotted them it was all over. Their deaths would not be quick.
Raising her head slightly, Patsy glanced back and saw that the monster had already reached the cave entrance. It was eager for its meal.
The frightening beast circled about the ground, sniffing, probing, tasting the grass for the scent of its prey. Its stared into the cave, then slowly entered.
Patsy pulled Ravage to her feet. “It’s in the cave. We can run now, let’s go!”
The pair ran with all the speed they could muster. Over the hill they sprinted, red-faced and breathing hard. The valley was too open, there was nowhere to hide. The next hill was a mile away and until they were on the other side of it, they would remain in plain sight.
In Ravage’s mind, she conjured images of an ethereal plane and in that mystical realm the wheel of fate turned, spinning, ever spinning. Ill omens were upon the wheel, portents of doom. When the shrill cry of the devoid stalker bellowed from behind them and shattered her vision she did not turn back to look, for Ravage already knew death was coming. The creature had spotted them. Their only hope was to outrun it.
“It’s gaining on us!” Patsy panted as she looked over her shoulder. “It’s so damn fast!”
“Just keep running!”
Once on the crown of the hill, the outlying lands revealed itself. A narrow stream coursed its way along the base of the hill and beyond it was a thin scattering of trees which grew ever closer together until converging into a dense forest.
Judging by the distance of the forest and the gap the devoid stalker had already closed in on them during its short pursuit. It was obvious to Patsy they were not going to make it to the forest before the beast caught up to them. There was no guarantee the forest would provide any type of safety or protection for them either. Patsy refused to continue fleeing like a coward only to be run down as fodder for a foul beast. Despite Ravage’s warning, Patsy stopped and turned to bravely face the terror who was descending upon them.
Ravage cursed. She stopped running and stood beside Patsy. There was nothing for it, combat was inevitable. Ravage drew her sword, dual wielding her weapons. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. Conjuring tactics to survive such a deadly encounter.
Patsy stood resolute. With her glaive in hand, she was confident she would defeat this beast. As the monster approached and she beheld the true horror of its size and nature, her courage began to wane.
It was taller than she had expected, its body more grotesque. The ground surrounding the stalker became corrupted, as though it possessed an aura of pestilence. Its eyes were cruel and the constant chattering of its mouth was unbearable.
“If we’re gonna do this Pats, we do it right.” Ravage knew there was no room for mistakes. The slightest falter would result in death. “We circle it. Be patient, wait for the perfect time to strike.”
“Got it,” with tactics in mind, Patsy felt her confidence growing once more.
“Since it spits acid, stay away from its face. There are poisonous barbs in its tentacles too, so do your best not to le
t it touch you.”
The stalker’s speed did not lessen as it approached, charging in with full momentum to ensnare its prey. Ravage and Patsy manoeuvred evasively, denying the monster an easy kill. Enticed by Ravage’s purple hair, the stalker made her its primary target.
Back and forth the warriors circled, stepping in and out of danger. Each time the stalker would advance on Ravage, Patsy would either stab or slash at it with her glaive. The blade inflicted a pitiful amount of damage, for the creature’s outer skin was tough. Its slimy tentacles looked soft, they were not. The glaive was unable to penetrate the hardened skin. After a few strikes, Patsy began to become infuriated with her inability to hurt the stalker.
Grass hissed and melted from fallen acid, smoke rose from the smouldering blades. Relentlessly, the stalker surged forwards, grasping at Ravage and spitting its toxic secretion at her. Ravage began counting the seconds from when the stalker opened its mouth to the acid spraying from the gland under its grotesque tongue, using the knowledge to stay one step ahead of its attacks. The caustic smell of the burning grass assaulted her nose and made her eyes water. Continually moving, she vacated the defiled ground. Using her staff to hold the creature at bay, Ravage smote at the monster with her sword when opportune moments presented themselves.
With her attacks constantly failing, Patsy’s frustration began mounting. The abhorrent beast spun, descending upon her with its frightening stature. Patsy guarded herself with the glaive. Her eyes widened as she realised the weapon wasn’t enough to halt the beast. Ravage lunged forwards, piercing her sword into the stalker while its back was turned. Patsy was saved. A tentacle wrapped itself around Ravage’s leg. The stalker reared, preparing to bathe the helpless warrior in acid.
Its abdomen was completely exposed. Beneath a pulsating, transparent sheet of skin was an orange liquid, swirling amongst grotesque organs. Gils surrounding the skin opened and closed as the stalker breathed. There was an explosion of gore as Patsy drove her glaive into the vulnerable area. Acid gushed from the wound. The glaive, drenched in vile acid had to be discarded.
Writhing in agony, the stalker collapsed. Patsy seized Ravage’s fallen sword and buried the weapon into the screeching monsters face.
Screaming in pain, Ravage tried to remove the tentacle from her leg. The poisonous barbs had dug cruelly into her skin and tore her flesh apart. Once free, she kicked the tentacle away, the movement causing poison injected from the barbs to surge through her blood stream. Her leg stiffened, the pain harrowing. Patsy rushed to her and was mortified by the extent of the damage. The skin was heavily lacerated and already beginning to discolour.
“Don’t move!” Patsy tore the fabric from the surrounding area. With great haste she applied a tourniquet, twisting it tightly to restrict blood flow.
“It feels like my leg is on fire!” Beads of sweat appeared on Ravage’s forehead. Her face became pale.
Concerned, Patsy probed her skin. “You’re all clammy.” She held a bottle of water to Ravage’s mouth, pouring a small trickle inside.
Ravage’s breath slowed. Reaching up, she caressed Patsy’s face and as she did, her eyes closed and her head fell limp.
Frantically, Patsy tried to shake her awake. Ravage was unresponsive.
“No,” the word was but a whisper as it escaped her lips. For a moment, Patsy was stunned. Her mind unable to think. Ravage couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t. The fear of loss was heavy upon her. Leaning down, Patsy checked Ravage’s breath. It was faint, but stable. A loud sigh of relief escaped her as she slumped back. She could feel her heart pounding within her chest.
A wretched stench exuded from the stalker’s corpse. The acid was melting its flesh horribly. The foul solution dripped onto the ground, burning the grass and causing the carcass to be surrounded by a thin layer of repulsive vapour.
This was far from a suitable place for Ravage to recover. Patsy adorned both of their packs and tied a length of ribbon around Ravage’s staff so that she was able to sling it over her shoulder. With care, she wrapped her arms around Ravage’s torso and dragged her back to the cave.
After laying Ravage down in a comfortable position, Patsy slumped against a rock, taking deep breaths as she recovered from her labour. As she stared at the waning sun entering the cave a sudden feeling of vulnerability came upon her. She felt exposed being so close to the cave entrance. With the stalker’s corpse rotting close by, she feared it might spark the curiosity of nightly predators who prowl the hills.
Taking their safety into account, Patsy decided to withdraw to the deepest, most sheltered part of the cave.
A small fire illuminated her surroundings. With reflective thoughts, she ate a modest meal, her gaze often turning to Ravage.
Many times during the night, Patsy bathed and cleaned Ravage’s wounds with water from the fountain basins and applied the medicinal salves she found in the packs. She pondered grinding up the crypt orchid flowers and applying them to the lacerations upon Ravage’s leg. With a name like crypt orchid, Patsy doubted that they’d have healing properties so she did not make use of them.
When fatigue finally claimed her, Patsy laid beside Ravage. On the cold ground, she began to miss Hobson and wondered why the two panguar had abandoned them. Her sleep was troubled, eyelids constantly fluttering.
Chapter 9
Branches creaked, swaying in the nightly breeze. The moons were veiled, hidden behind grey clouds which stretched across the horizon. Hayden stood stoically. A diligent man, he regarded his role as sentinel with all seriousness. His vigilant eyes ever-watchful on the sinister forest before him.
The painful shriek of a man was quickly silenced. Hayden heard a soft thud, as though an armour-clad warrior had fallen. Oliver was stationed close by; Hayden hoped no harm had befallen his friend. Readying his spear, Hayden moved towards the source of the noise.
Beside a log was as overturned lantern. The flame was still burning. Hayden retrieved it. The brass handle felt cold against his skin. Oliver was nowhere to be seen.
“Oliver?” Hayden called softly, being mindful of the noise.
Using the light, he scanned the area. Fallen leaves surrounding a trunk were marked with drops of blood which formed a trail leading into the forest. Hayden called Oliver’s name once more. There was no reply, only the gentle rustling of the branches above. Cautiously, Hayden followed the trail.
Haunting shadows surrounded him. The lantern was barely able to penetrate the darkness of the forest. Fear clawed as his courage. Hayden began to think that wandering into the forest alone was not a clever idea. A sentinel had gone missing, the camp needed to be alerted. From the darkness, whispering voices could be heard.
A formless shape descended upon Hayden. Blood showered the ground.
It was no yet dawn, but already the encampment was buzzing with activity. Horses were mustered. Campfires extinguished. Supplies gathered and packed.
“Did you find their bodies?” This was not a situation the queen wanted to begin the day with. Losing more men was unacceptable.
“Not yet, My Queen.” Corbin shook his head with woe. “Helina is scouring the surrounding forest with a search party as we speak.”
“How many knights did we have on duty last night?”
“Three. Hayden, Oliver and Vejay.”
“Why only three?” Three didn’t sound like a sufficient number to defend the camp during the long hours of the night.
“Helina thought three would be enough,” Corbin could see the look of displeasure on the queen’s face. “After yesterday’s events, Helina thought it best to let the men rest as much as possible. A sentinel’s job is only to watch over the camp and alert us if they see anything out of the ordinary. Three knights on patrol should have been enough for that task. I don’t know why they didn’t blow their horns at the first sign of danger.”
“Perhaps they didn’t get a chance to,” said Kelaire, fastening her rapier to her belt. “To survive in forests such as this, predators develo
p incredible hunting skills. Those three probably died before they knew anything was wrong. It would also explain why no-one from the camp was alerted and why there were no other casualties. Beasts are fearful of men in large numbers, but are happy to prey upon those who wander from a larger group.”
Sighing, the queen turned her back on the pair. If this continues happening every night now that they are travelling through the forest, her force will slowly dwindle until there are not enough men left to accomplish her goal. “How do we stop this from happening again?”
“Err,” Corbin had nothing. Strategic deployment and encampments were not subjects he held much knowledge about.
“We find a more sheltered, easily defended campsite,” said Haycox as he approached. “Sorry for the intrusion, Your Grace. I just wanted to come and see if I could be of any help.”
“I suppose you have a few choice words about Helina’s decision regarding the defence of the camp last night?” Kelaire sneered at the former general.
“None. Sometimes, these things are unavoidable. We’ll just have to be more vigilant in the future.” Haycox did not look at Kelaire, ignoring her petty comment.
The queen smiled.
“The men could use some help with the horses,” said Corbin. “They need to be saddled and ready to ride once they have been fed and brushed.”
“I will go and help them,” with a modest bow, Haycox turned to attend his duties.
“Corbin, can you go and fetch Helina for me, please? Once she returns, we’ll finish our preparations and head out.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Tugging lightly at the reins, Haycox halted his steed on the edge of a ravine over-looking the Trillian jungle. Jerron pulled up beside him. Having volunteered for scouting duty, the pair were well ahead of the rest of the cavalcade.
Great pillars of stone reached above the canopy. Their rocky faces covered with vines and leafy ferns sprouting from cracks and crevices. Standing taller than the pillars were ancient trees whose enormous limbs housed colonies of birds, giant spiders and all manner of wondrous beasts who seek the solitude of the high places. A myriad of colourful plants grew across the floor of the jungle. The landscape was broken apart by sheer cliffs and waterfalls. Rivers and creeks supported the life within the jungle, their waters twisting and turning with the shape of the land.
Misanthropy (Born of the Phoenix Book 2) Page 8
