A creaking sound followed by a sharp snap caused everyone to lurch to their feet. A large splash followed a moment afterward.
Cold sweat ran down Nera’s spine. “What in the Abyss was that?”
“Sounded like a tree limb breaking off,” Endira said calmly.
Nera glanced at her sharply to see if she really believed that. The elf’s face was placid, but she thought there was a tightness around her mouth that wasn’t normal for her.
“Should we go take a look?” Waresh unlimbered his axe and moved toward the edge of the island nearer where the sound had emanated.
“Huh, be my guest, Master Dwarf,” the soldier Arvon snapped. “Anyone that wants to go traipsing out there in the dark gots to be bloody mad!”
A loud bubbling sound and the following splash of a geyser shattered the uneasy silence. The group waited, but the snapping sound didn’t repeat itself.
“Geyser. Must have been another damned geyser,” Nera said. Realizing the others looked to her for guidance, she sat back down on the ridge of bone, striving to put on an air of calm.
They waited on edge for long minutes but heard no other sounds more alarming than the erupting geysers.
“I’ll try again,” Yosrick said, dejectedly. He walked over and sat down beneath one of the twisted trees, leaning back against the slimy trunk and closing his eyes to focus on the spell.
Nera surveyed the companions. Eventually, most of them relaxed slightly and resumed their spots, with the exception of a few of the warriors. Waresh stood staring into the swamp, as did Wyat and a few others.
“There!” Waresh pointed to a churning in the water, where bubbles were rising.
“Geyser?” Wyat asked.
“It’s been going on like that for a time but hasn’t erupted. Ye think one of those fish things?”
“Perhaps.” Wyat didn’t sound convinced. “It’d be a big bastard if it was.”
A rustling sound from nearby drew Nera’s attention. Looking up, she gasped in alarm as a yellow orb poked down from the sickly foliage of the trees. It was attached to a slimy black vine. The orb swiveled and turned toward her.
It was an eyeball, piss yellow in color and bloodshot.
“Balor’s balls!” She drew and tossed a throwing knife in one smooth motion.
The blade pierced the eyeball with a loud pop. The eyestalk retreated, and the ground beneath them shook.
“We’re under attack!” she cried.
Malek was on his feet beside her, staff in hand. He was turning slowly, trying to locate the threat.
Nera saw movement. The tree trunk Yosrick was leaning against suddenly recoiled. The gnome’s eyes popped open in surprise, and he had to lean forward to keep his balance. The slimy tentacle she had thought a tree suddenly swung down and wrapped around the gnome, pinning his arms at his sides and lifting him into the air with a strangled cry.
One of Wyat’s men shrieked as another tentacle wrapped around his leg and yanked him off his feet toward the water. Rand grabbed his arms and fought to pull him away, but the monster was too strong.
The water churned about five paces from their island, and a massive shape surfaced, frothy water streaming off its dark bulk. Arrows peppered the beast as the soldiers fired on it.
Idrimel cried out a spell, and light bloomed in their camp, casting the frenzied scene in sharp relief. A dozen or so tentacles were lashing around or dragging their companions toward the toothy horror in the water.
Nera ran toward Yosrick, daggers in hand, but he was yanked up and away before she could reach him.
Endira cried out as she was ensnared around the waist. Arron hacked at the tentacle, trying to free her before she was dragged into the water.
Waresh ran forward and, with a mighty overhead chop of his axe, hacked through the tentacle holding Yosrick. The gnome fell down, landing atop Waresh, and the two of them, along with the still-squirming appendage, rolled and slid down the slick slope into the water near the monster.
A tentacle suddenly lashed out right at Nera. She leaped over it instinctively, her feet kicking off the rubbery hide as it thrashed beneath her. She drove both daggers into it and rolled off, carving deep gashes in the appendage.
The tentacle writhed wildly, uprooting one of the trees. It lashed out again but was met with a burst of fire. Flames blasted from Malek’s upraised staff, charring the appendage until it crumbled to blackened pieces, nearly half of it burnt away.
Arron had freed Endira. The two of them were dragging Lumley from the water. The sergeant had gone after his man, who’d been pulled under.
Nera spotted another eyestalk a few paces away. “Try to blind the thing!” She ran toward the eyestalk, but it disappeared behind the stand of trees. She passed through them in time to see Wyat hack off the eyestalk with a quick swipe of his sword.
The beast’s body rose from the water, issuing a deafening bellow. She couldn’t see how big the thing was, but its mouth was large enough to swallow any of them whole and filled with fangs as long as her arm. She didn’t want to see any more than that.
“Fall back!” Wyat cried. “To fight it in the water is suicide!”
More arrows peppered the creature’s body, but the thick rubbery hide seemed to prevent it taking much damage.
Waresh emerged spluttering from the water, regaining the shore. “I fought one of these bloody things back in Nexus!” He squared up to face it.
“Head north!” Yosrick scrambled up the slope, quickly recovering his hammer and shield. “I caught a glimpse of where the swamp thins out to the north before I was disrupted.”
“Which way is north?” Nera asked, relieved to see everyone falling back.
Wyat and his men held off the beast while the others grabbed their gear.
“Grab the extra packs of Wyat’s men!” She scooped up an extra pack.
Yosrick pointed behind her. “That way! Move! The rest of them will catch up.”
Nera turned toward Malek, but the mage was just unleashing another attack. The air shimmered, and a spear of force streaked toward the monster. A large chunk of rubbery flesh sheared off, ichor spewing from the wound. The monster roared again and surged toward the island, the water roiling and churning around it.
“Aw, shite! Think that just pissed it off, lad!” Waresh had a gleeful look on his face.
Battle rage—that mad bastard is going to lose it.
Malek interrupted her thoughts by grabbing her arm. “We must go!”
Nera needed little encouragement. Endira, Idrimel, Arron, and Yosrick were right behind them.
They splashed off into the swamp, hoping they wouldn’t encounter any deep quagmires. Idrimel’s light spell cast a stark white illumination over their path but also made them obvious targets. After they had gone a short bowshot, Nera asked her to dispel it.
“Any monster within a league will see that light. Well, if not for the mist, they would.”
Idrimel didn’t argue. Her spell winked out, and they were in the darkness again.
“Keep going,” Arron directed. “I’ll cover our retreat. Hopefully, the others catch up quickly.”
“As will I,” Yosrick said.
“No, they need you to show them the way. I’ll stand with Arron,” Endira said.
Yosrick looked as if he might argue but thought better of it. “Come on, this way.”
They struggled through the muck, tired and scared but continued onward, thoughts of the nightmarish tentacled beast keeping them moving.
Someone cried out as the ground sloughed away. Nera whirled to find Jannik, the priest of Anhur, thigh-deep in muck. He struggled to wade free but, with the weight of his armor, swiftly sank until he was waist-deep in seconds. Malek stepped forward cautiously, extending his staff to the priest, but the ground gave way beneath him, too. He pitched forward.
Nera snatched him by the back of the robes and dragged him back to more solid ground. The priest was chest-deep now, face pale in fright. He had his arms raised, kee
ping his flail free of the muck. She withdrew her slender rope and grappling hook from a pouch on her belt. After twirling the grappling hook, she tossed it lightly to the priest. Her aim was true—the hook latched onto the shaft of Jannik’s flail.
“Hold on!” She hauled on the rope.
However, in his heavy armor, the man felt like an ogre she was trying to drag free. He barely moved a few inches. Idrimel and Malek grasped the rope and pulled. Once Yosrick added his muscle, they were able to pull the exhausted priest free of the muck, dragging him unceremoniously on his belly up the slippery bank of the island. Idrimel and Yosrick helped him back to his feet.
“I thank you! I was afraid I’d die with a bellyful of filth pouring down my gullet!” Jannik shuddered at the thought before resting hands on knees, panting for breath. For a priest of the war god, to die in a manner not occurring on a battlefield was shameful.
Nera swiftly coiled her rope back up and stowed it in its pouch again, and they rested for a couple minutes. She could hear an occasional cry coming from the mist back the way they had come, but fortunately, she could no longer hear the monster’s roars.
They continued on for a time without further difficulty. The swamp and fog thinned out eventually, and they were happy to set foot on an area with more solid ground. A large, bony ridge extended up from the island. Nera climbed it to get a better view around. She couldn’t see much in the dark save for the gloomy mist, glowing in places like will-o’-wisps.
Turning back around, she sought the rest of her friends. After long minutes of waiting, nerves on edge, the splashing of feet and jingle of armor got closer.
She slid down the ridge and ran to meet them. Wyat and Arron were half carrying one of his wounded men, a quiet soldier named Tomlin. Endira and Waresh followed, with Lumley, Rand, Pollard, and Raik joining them.
“Is this everyone?” Nera asked anxiously, dreading the answer.
Wyat’s grim face told her all she needed to know. “Aye, I lost two men back there.”
“Oh, gods. And that beast?”
“It gave up pursuit after a short time, but that doesn’t mean we should stick around to find out if it changes its mind.”
“We should at least rest for a bit and tend to the injured,” Arron said.
Nera nodded her agreement. “Aye, that should give Yosrick time to take another look as well.”
The weary group shrugged off their packs and prepared for a short rest.
Nera walked over to where Idrimel was kneeling beside Tomlin, checking his wound. The soldier’s leg had been broken during the battle, the bloody splinter of shin bone protruding through his breeches. Idrimel gently lined the bone back up and gripped her holy symbol, lowering her head in prayer.
Tomlin glanced up and saw Nera watching. “That bloody… thing picked me up and slammed me down on the stone. Leg snapped like a twig.” He shuddered at the memory.
“You fought bravely, as did your comrades,” she replied. “We shall mourn their loss.”
Idrimel placed her hand on Tomlin’s leg, chanting a healing prayer. A weak golden glow surrounded her hand. The wound closed up partially but left an angry red scar. The priestess frowned, placing her hand back over the wound and chanted more loudly, but the glow faded. A worried look stole into her eyes, and her face went pale.
“What is it?” Nera asked quietly.
“The Dark One’s influence is too great here—Sol’s power is somehow suppressed in this foul pit. I-I am sorry,” she told Tomlin.
The soldier’s face had softened at her anguish. “Do not worry over me, Lady Idrimel! I shall be fine.” He made to stand up.
Rand and Lumley, who’d been standing nearby, gripped his arms and helped him up. Tomlin gingerly put weight on his leg and, waving the others off, limped a few steps.
“Aye, it’s much better now—merely a bit tender. Should heal the rest of the way on its own.”
Despite his pronouncement, Idrimel still looked concerned.
Nera approached Wyat, who stood staring back into the swamp, in the direction of his two fallen men. She didn’t speak, merely putting a comforting hand on his back.
“I lost Arvon and Jakeob. May they find their peace with the gods.”
“They’re heroes for volunteering for this. With Sabyl’s luck, hopefully we shan’t have any more losses.”
Wyat didn’t reply, and Nera herself didn’t believe they would get off that easy for a minute. Barely here for a couple hours, and already we’ve lost two men—doesn’t bode well.
Chapter 8
Terrifying baying sounds reached their ears once again, much nearer this time. The howls had been audible for the better part of an hour, interrupting the companions’ brief hour of rest. The land in which they found themselves seemed as if it could be the border of the swamp. The marshy fens were interspersed with more frequent islands and ridges of the bone-rocks.
Spotting a higher ridge ahead, Nera scrambled to the top, hoping to get a glimpse of what manner of beast was making the baying sounds. She paused to catch her breath as her companions joined her atop what turned out to be a narrow bluff.
Nera spotted a lone figure in the valley below, obviously fleeing from whatever beasts pursued. The mists had thinned, affording a view of a wide and generally flat valley, with several marshy spots mixed with larger areas of solid ground. The figure appeared to be a thin middle-aged man wearing a ragged tunic and breeches and carrying a stout staff in hand.
She glanced at her companions, wondering if they should aid the fleeing man. Wyat and Arron came up beside her while the rest labored up the slope. Rock broke loose below as one of her friends slipped—she judged it to be the dwarf from the colorful cursing.
The figure down in the valley looked over his shoulder just as a lean shape streaked out of the marshes behind him. He cried out and redoubled his speed although he was about to be swiftly overtaken. Another pair of what looked to be large hounds, followed by half a dozen more, burst from the marshes, until nine or ten of them in all were closing fast on the fleeing man.
“We must help him,” Idrimel said. “He’ll be torn to bits.”
“’Tis none of our concern.” Waresh stomped up beside them. “We need to get out of these cursed swamps and find this Achronia. Simple travelers don’t just wander into the Abyss—he’s likely here for a reason.” Waresh spat over the side of the bluff.
The hounds were well within a bowshot from the running man. Their reddish hides rippled with muscle, black-furred legs propelling them swiftly along in pursuit. Their eyes blazed with a fiery glow, and smoke curled up from their panting maws. The hounds voiced eager howls of anticipation as the chase neared its end.
Seeming to sense the companions’ presence, the man veered off in their direction, legs pumping fast, face pale with dread.
“Nera? We can’t watch him be slain right before us.” Idrimel’s eyes were pleading.
“I think Waresh has the right of it… Could be a trap,” Arron said.
“Help me!” The man evidently saw them atop the rise. He was now a long dagger toss away. “Help!” He leaped over a spot of swampy ground but slipped upon landing, losing his footing in the slick muck and falling to his knees.
The nearest hound snarled, a tongue of flame belching from its maw, and sprang for the kill. The man rolled away as the hound landed and slipped in the mud for an instant. He came up to his knees and delivered a stout smack with the stave across the beast’s head.
The hound stumbled, shaking its head to clear its senses. Its eyes blazed as it focused on the man scrambling to get to his feet, and then it reared back to pounce.
An arrow hummed past Nera and lodged in the hound’s thick neck. It yelped and lurched sideways, trying to snap at the shaft buried in its hide.
Rand lowered his bow, his face anxious. When the group spun on him, faces ranging from angry to thankful, he blanched. “I… We can’t just leave him to die, as the Lady Idrimel said.”
Nera was ab
out to reply when Idrimel took off down the slope, skidding her way to the bottom. The stranger had recovered his footing and delivered a couple more hearty strikes with his staff.
“Ah, damn it. I guess we’re helping him,” Nera grumbled.
As if waiting for her permission, Rand, Lumley, and two other soldiers all loosed more arrows at the hound. It yelped when the arrows struck in close succession, and it fell into the muck, unmoving.
“Behind you!” Nera cried. She started down the slope after Idrimel, as did her companions.
The man whirled as the nearest pair of hounds launched themselves at him. He dodged one, but the other took him down, paws on his chest and slavering mouth inches from his throat, held back only by the man’s staff lodged under its neck.
Idrimel cried out and struck the hound full on the snout with her mace. It fell away from the man and crumpled. The other hound loosed a blast of flame from its mouth. She spun away, raising her shield, deflecting most of the flames.
Wyat charged in and drove his longsword into the beast’s side. It whipped around with a snarl, but Nera stabbed Lightslicer down into its skull. The hound wobbled and fell, smoke curling from its jaws.
“ʼWare, there’s more!” came a cry.
The next six hounds swarmed in, but the companions were ready. Two of the beasts stumbled, slowed by arrows. Waresh cleaved the head clean off the first one. Malek raised his hands, and a bolt of lightning blasted out from his staff and into their midst, striking one hound then forking and hitting two more, dropping all three. Lumley and the other soldiers finished off the two wounded ones with more arrows.
“I thank you, friends!” The man fell to his knees in the muck. “Oh, gods, I thought I was going to perish.”
“Who are you?” Nera asked suspiciously. “What are you doing here? And what are those beasts?”
“My name is Jovas, and I am searching for my dear wife.” He sat down heavily on a large stone that looked suspiciously like a knucklebone. “Our party was separated when we were attacked in the night by the hellhounds.”
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