Maiden of Pain p-3

by Kameron Franklin

He was tired of running. He had never been the biggest or strongest kid growing up, and neither of his parents were fighters, so no one had taught him how to defend himself. His father's advice had been to run whenever Kestus found himself in a situation he couldn't handle.

  While sound advice, following it had never sat quite right with Kestus. He hated being called a coward whenever he ran. More important, though, something inside of him wanted to stand up to the bullies. He longed for a different, better way.

  Magic became that way for him.

  He readily admitted he practiced the Art for the power it gave him. Kestus had never been the scholarly type. It was not that he wasn't bright; he just didn't get excited by pouring over obscure writings, trying to uncover long-lost lore. He suffered the studying because it was necessary to gain the power.

  Fortunately, he had just spent the past few hours engaged in such studying.

  Kestus brought his hands up and cupped them around his mouth, forming a funnel that would amplify his voice. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he coughed out the single word he had read earlier from the book that now lay at his feet.

  A circular ripple formed in the air inches from of his mouth. It expanded and pushed outward, followed by another circle, then another and another, until four concentric, circular ripples filled the entire street and were hurtling toward the werecreatures. When the first ripple hit, a loud boom was released, knocking several of the wererats to the mud. The following ripples produced similar results, until all the werecreatures lay on the ground. Blood trickled from the ears and noses of several of them.

  Kestus scooped up the book and the orb and followed after his fleeing companions. They didn't get too far. A column of armored werecrocodiles was marching down the center of the avenue, heading straight for them. Kohtakah pointed to an empty street to their left, and they rushed for it. The column turned to follow. Muctos paused at the corner and fumbled a wand out of the bundle at his belt. He glanced at it for a moment before pointing it at the column and barking a harsh command. Lightning lanced out from its tip and raced through the column, turning the werecrocodiles into a mass of smoking, charred flesh.

  "That was a dangerous risk," Kestus shouted at

  Muctos when he finally caught up. "You had no idea what might have happened." Muctos smiled and pointed at the handle of the wand. Engraved in the metal was the Draconic word for lightning. Kestus laughed and patted his friend on the back.

  Kohtakah was in the lead now, steering them through the maze of half-formed buildings. Shouts of alarm and brusque commands rose from all around. It was apparent that the tide was turning against the wererats. Their assault had been beaten back, and now the werecrocodiles were systematically hunting down any remaining enemies. Kestus worried that they would be caught in the slowly closing net as well.

  They ducked down a narrow lane between two huts and came face-tface with a group of ratmen slinking away through the shadows. Both groups stood facing each other, the tension palpable. The lead wererat noticed Ythnel, and its eyes narrowed.

  "You," it hissed.

  "Torgyn?"

  "So you escaped. And are these your wizard friends?" An evil grin split his narrow muzzle. "You will come with us." He motioned for his comrades to surround them.

  "No," Ythnel said firmly. She gripped a mace she had picked up from a fallen werecrocodile in her right hand. "We're leavingby ourselves."

  Torgyn snarled and lunged at her with the short sword he wielded. Ythnel took a step to the side and batted his blade down and away from her with the mace. Kohtakah spoke and a fan of flame shot from the splayed fingers of his hands to engulf two wererats that were trying to flank them on their right. The wererats dropped to the ground, thrashing in the mud until the flames were extinguished. Patches of missing fur exposed seared flesh; the two wererats scrambled backward and fled to cower in a corner nearby.

  Ythnel and the wererat leader continued their duel while the mages kept the remaining wererats at bay. Torgyn slipped past Ythnel's guard, but the Loviatan brought her left forearm down, deflecting his sword from its intended target and receiving a nasty gash from her wrist to her elbow. She followed up with a blow to the shoulder of his sword arm. Kestus expected to hear the crunch of bone as the metal-studded head of the mace made contact, but there was only a soft thud. Torgyn grinned.

  "Your simple weapon can't hurt me. You've caused me a lot of trouble. I've lost half my men coming after you. You're not worth that, not even four of you, but I can't let the werecrocodiles have you either. So I think instead of taking you prisoner, I'm just going to kill all of you." He advanced on Ythnel, his menacing look a promise of death. Emboldened by their leader's words, the other two wererats closed in as well.

  Kestus heard someone speaking behind him and turned to see Muctos holding what looked like a wispy piece of thread between his finger and thumb. Kestus recognized the words his fellow mage was chanting and shouted at Kohtakah and Ythnel, who were standing in front of him.

  "Duck!"

  The pair dived to the muddy street as Muctos completed his incantation. The threadlike substance that he had been holding shot out in a stream toward the three wererats, expanding into thick webbing that entangled the werecreatures. The momentum of the spell forced them back, slamming them into the wall of a nearby building and pinning them there.

  "I'll kill you, Ythnel!" Torgyn screamed as they ran past him. Kohtakah paused long enough to put the torch to the webbing and set it afire.

  They continued to make their way through the werecrocodile city. Kohtakah led the way unerringly at a swift pace that soon had Kestus and Muctos panting for breath. As they crossed a large street, someone shouted out Kohtakah's name, and he stopped. The entire group turned to see Lord Mulkammu not a hundred feet away, with at least ten bowmen behind him.

  "I am very disappointed, Royal Sorcerer. You put these humans before your own people. If you stop now, though, and return them to me, I will forgive you."

  "I am sorry, my lord. I cannot do that. They have become as much my brothers as you."

  "Then I label you a traitor, and you will die with your new 'brothers.' Archers, fire!" No sooner had the command been given than Kohtakah began to chant, his hands moving almost frantically in the air before him. The archers let loose their arrows. No one could move as the missiles flew toward them. Kohtakah was still casting, and Kestus couldn't help but wonder if this would be their end.

  The wind suddenly picked up, rushing with a howl from all directions. Kestus's robe and hair whipped about him, forcing him to turn his head protectively. From the corner of his squinting eye, he watched for the arrow that would pierce his heart. It never happened. An invisible curtain of wind rushed up in front of the party, deflecting the arrows upward. None of them struck their intended target.

  "Let's get out of here!" Kestus shouted. Ythnel and Muctos eagerly obeyed, but Kohtakah stood rooted in his spot, eyes locked with Mulkammu. Kestus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along.

  Finally, they broke from the ruins into some brush not far from the edge of the island. Ythnel paused for a moment, and the mages all bent over, their lungs heaving as they tried to replenish their supply of oxygen.

  "Quiet," Ythnel said in a hoarse whisper.

  Their labored breathing slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of the bay waters lapping at the shore, and the splash of raindrops. A rustle snapped all their heads to the right. Kestus signaled Kohtakah to hold the torch up high, and he took a step in the direction of the sound.

  From out of the brush lunged a massive crocodile, its jaws snapping relentlessly at Kestus. The mage back-pedaled, but he caught his heel on a root and tripped, stumbling backward to land on his rear. Both the orb and the book he was carrying went flying off into the night. He scooted away, his arms and legs flailing to keep out of range of the pursuing crocodile's crushing bite, but he was losing ground. Kohtakah threw the torch at the reptile's head, but the brand bounced harmlessly off its rough
hide and landed in the mire, extinguished. Sure he was about to die, Kestus uttered a prayer to Mystra.

  A buzzing sound rushed toward Kestus, and he threw his arm up defensively, bracing for whatever was about to happen. Through squinted eyes, he saw a swarm of black beetles fly between him and the charging crocodile. In an instant, the creature was entirely covered in dark, crawling carapaces. It began to thrash about, trying to dislodge the stinging and biting insects, its original prey all but forgotten. Kestus rolled to his feet and ran back to the others. Kohtakah was lowering the staff he had taken from the vault.

  "Let's get out of here," Ythnel said, and they all jogged to the water's edge.

  "There are some old fishing boats beached along here," Kohtakah offered. They moved along the bank, searching. It was hard to see in the darkness, but as they got closer, Kestus could make out the shape of a flat-bottomed skiff. There were no paddles, but Muctos found a couple of old planks lying nearby and tossed them in. Once everyone was aboard, Kestus pushed the boat out into the bay and hopped in.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Out in the bay, the small craft and its occupants took the full brunt of the winter storm. Whipped by the fierce winds, the waves crashed over the sides of the boat until all four were soaked to the bone. The planks were quickly abandoned, and any hope of maneuvering through the tempest was lost. The group merely held onto the sides of the skiff for dear life. Tossed and turned about, Ythnel had no sense of where they were in the darkness.

  The skiff suddenly rose on a cresting wave and was pitched over, tumbling the four into the chilling waters. Ythnel panicked, unable to tell which way was up, and let go of the breath she was holding. As the bubbles rose in front of her, she realized they would lead her back to the surface. She frantically kicked after them. She surged out of the depths with a gasp only to be pounded back under by another wave. Refusing to give up, Ythnel surfaced once more.

  "Kestus" Her shout was cut short as she swallowed a mouthful of water. She coughed it out and tried again. "Kestus! Muctos! Kohtakah! Anybody?" Ythnel squinted, hoping that something recognizable would materialize in the darkness. The gash in her arm stung from the salt water. Forcing herself to calm down, she whispered a prayer to Loviatar and touched the wound. The flesh wove itself back together, but Ythnel could feel a scar.

  She returned to her scanning of the night. As she treaded water, surrounded by an unnerving silence, the waves rolling about her, Ythnel felt a terrifying sense of isolation creep into her heart. Panic began to rise again. She was out of her element and all alone.

  "Kestus! Muctos!" This time, she thought she heard a voice calling and began to swim in the direction it came from. The cry sounded again, closer, and a large, dark shape appeared, drifting just ahead.

  "Who's there?" she called out uncertainly.

  "It's Muctos," came the excited reply. Ythnel thought she saw a waving arm, but in the blackness of the storm, she was still too far away to be sure. With a few more strokes, Ythnel reached the dark shape, and discovered it was Muctos clinging to the overturned skiff.

  "Where are the others?"

  "I don't know," Muctos sputtered. Ythnel called out their names again, and Muctos joined her in the attempt to locate the others. The wind was dying down, and the rain had been reduced to a light drizzle. With the storm's dissipation, the rolling swells were replaced by small whitecaps chopping the waters of the bay. The slow lightening of the sky signaled the approach of dawn. Ythnel scanned the horizon, hopeful to catch sight of their missing friends.

  "Over there!" Muctos exclaimed and pointed off into the distance. "I think I see something. Kestus? Kohtakah?"

  Ythnel looked where Muctos pointed. Someone was indeed swimming toward them. As the figure neared, Ythnel could make out the stern features of Kestus, his dark hair plastered against his scalp. The mage no longer had his cloak. Ythnel let go of a breath she hadn't realized she was holding when he finally reached the skiff.

  "Where's… Kohtakah?" Kestus panted and leaned heavily against the side of the boat, trying to catch his breath.

  "We haven't seen him yet," Ythnel answered.

  Kestus nodded and said, "We need to get this boat turned back over."

  "How?" Muctos asked.

  "We should just be able to flip up one side."

  They positioned themselves at the bow, middle, and stern. Together they heaved the edge up out of the water and tossed it away from them. With a small splash, the skiff was righted.

  Ythnel swam over and pulled herself in, kicking to thrust herself high out of the water and over the side of the boat. She sat there for a second, exhausted but glad to be finally out of the water. An overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort swelled inside her, bringing her to the verge of tears. The boat rocked, startling Ythnel. She grabbed the sides of the skiff, bracing herself, when she realized it was only Kestus struggling to get in. With a deep breath, Ythnel calmed herself and moved to help him. Together, they dragged Muctos out of the water.

  For a while, all three of them huddled quietly in the bottom of the boat, unable to do anything but shiver in the steady wind that blew across the bay. The clouds parted to reveal a bright winter sun that did little to warm them.

  "We should look for Kohtakah," Muctos said between chattering teeth.

  Kestus shook his head. "If he hasn't shown up by now, he's not going to," he said in a subdued voice. Muctos opened his mouth, but Kestus cut off any protest. "He could be anywhere out there. It would be useless to try and search for him. I'm sorry." Muctos frowned, clearly not pleased, but nodded. They continued to sit in silence, not willing to meet each others' eyes.

  "We can't just sit here, or we'll die of hypothermia," Ythnel said finally. "We have to get moving. The only way we'll get warm and dry is by our own body heat."

  "What do you suggest?" Muctos's tone overflowed with sarcasm. "I don't think running in place will work given our circumstances."

  "No, but we could paddle. We need to get to shore anyway."

  "And in what direction might that be?" Muctos's question dripped with undisguised scorn.

  "That's enough, Muctos," Kestus growled. The portly mage scowled back but kept his mouth shut.

  "I can still see land that way," Ythnel said, indicating a thin, dark line just visible on the horizon to their left. "From the position of the sun, I'd guess that's where we came from."

  "Well, then, let's start paddling back," Muctos suggested.

  "No," Kestus grunted. "If we go back, we'll risk recapture by the werecreatures or the Karanoks. We head east, to Mordulkin."

  "What? That will take days," Muctos cried.

  "Then we had better get started." Kestus leaned over the side of the skiff and started paddling with his cupped hands.

  Progress was slow. For every hour they paddled, it seemed as though they moved only a few yards. Even taking turns to rest, Ythnel's arms quickly turned wooden, and feeling returned to her hands like a prickly fire only just before she had to dunk them back into the numbingly chill waters. By the end of the first day, Ythnel could see all of them were exhausted. They slept fitfully, huddled together at the bottom of the craft to protect themselves from the wind and share body heat.

  Kohtakah was plunged into waters of the Bay of Chessenta like all the others as their little skiff was flipped by the raging sea. Unlike the others, though, he didn't panic. Water was a second home to him. He was a werecrocodile, after all.

  Shedding his robes, he reoriented himself and, with a few strong kicks, broke the surface in a spray. It was dark, and the storm still tossed waves about the bay violently. He could not see any of the others.

  Something bumped against Kohtakah's leg as he treaded water. A dark triangle broke the surface of the water ahead of him, and a sense of dread filled him. There were other predators besides crocodiles that inhabited the waters of the Bay of Chessenta, he knew. In his current form, he was extremely vulnerable to an attack. Fortunately, he had an alternate shape.

 
Kohtakah was born a werecrocodile, as many of his generation were. Unlike those who contracted the disease at some point in their lives, he had grown up with the ability. The years had given him mastery of the transformation. It didn't make it any less painful, though.

  As his body temperature rose, Kohtakah could feel the blood boiling in his veins. Bones snapped and reformed, tendons broke away and reattached as his body reshaped itself. Kohtakah moaned in response to the pain. It would be over soon, though.

  Kohtakah screamed as the mild pain in his right leg became the excruciating sensation of a hundred knives puncturing his flesh. A sharp tug pulled him under water. His scream became a bubbling roar as the transformation completed.

  Specialized lids closed protectively over each eye, turning his vision murky. He could still see that the lower half of his right, rear leg was missing and a cloud of red was slowly drifting away from the wound. The change had partially healed the damage so that he was no longer in immediate danger of bleeding to death, but there was enough blood in the water that the scent would attract more sharks, or at least bring his current attacker back for more. He needed to get away from there. With a powerful flick of his tail, he went in search of his companions and their boat.

  A dark, blurry shape came hurtling out of the depths, its jaws snapping on the empty water Kohtakah had just passed through. He whipped around and clamped onto the shark's tail as it passed, but the creature's momentum allowed it to yank free. As it swam away, Kohtakah estimated the shark was easily seventeen feet long, nearly as big as he was. ‹

  Sensing something behind him, Kohtakah banked to the side. He was too slow, though, and a second shark slammed into him, its jaws closing on his back. His thick hide protected him from any serious damage, and Kohtakah thrashed his body to free himself, taking a few of the shark's teeth with him.

  He didn't stop there. With a sharp turn, Kohtakah came around the side of the shark and bit down hard on the animal's pectoral fin. His hold secure, he began to roll violently, twisting and tearing the shark's flesh until the fin pulled away. Fresh blood clouded the water as the shark swam away, its flight erratic as it slowly and uncontrollably descended into the murk. Kohtakah knew he wouldn't see it again.