The Kile men were wounded just enough that they could no longer fight back. As the soldiers fell, one by one, their armor was pried off and their clothing shredded by pointy flippers. The same flippers jammed into their chests, separated ribs, and opened holes to the lungs within. Screams of agony and terror filled the cavern, mixing with the roar of the waterfall. But those cries were choked into silence as the lips of the graygoyles covered the soldiers’ noses and mouths, and the holes in their chests.
The sights and sounds of this frightened Yenia. She wanted to go back to the boat, push it out into the water and float away, never to look back. It wasn’t the thought of battle that frightened her. Yenia’s father taught her to fight better than most men. But he also taught her to avoid battle in unfavorable conditions, if possible. Yenia’s quickness was her best asset. Trying to fight these creatures in waist-deep mud where she would be unable to move would be extremely dangerous.
Father would have called it unwise. Theel would have called it stupid.
Yenia wanted to flee, but she wanted to do her duty more. She wasn’t going anywhere. Looking between the stalagmites, Yenia saw groups of the creatures fighting with each other over the fallen humans like dogs over a fresh kill. She knew her brother was nearby. But where?
The lantern was kicked over, and the oil spilled into the water. It burned a short trail of white for a few moments before dying, but it was just long enough for Yenia to see the body of another man half-submerged in the mud between where she stood and where the graygoyles were feasting. The man wasn’t moving, didn’t appear to be conscious, but was badly wounded, with the handle of a knife protruding from his chest. Yenia couldn’t see his face, but noticed the man wasn’t clad in armor. He wore the plain clothing of peasant oarsman. That clothing looked familiar.
It was Theel.
Once the oil was burned, darkness fell like a curtain, leaving only the blue and green glow of the fungus. Once again, Yenia couldn’t see, could barely make out a few shapes. But she already knew where her brother was, so she shimmied between the wet stone of the stalagmites and threw herself into the mud.
Climbing through the filth was just as difficult as before, especially dragging the mooring rope behind, but she was able to make progress with extreme effort. The graygoyles were still fighting among themselves, struggling to get their share of living breath, and some of the Kile soldiers were still alive to provide it. Yenia could hear gasps for breath, then a scream of terror suddenly silenced, swallowed by the roar of the waterfall. The graygoyles were suffocating the soldiers slowly, giving them repeated chances at life, then stealing it away.
The sounds kept coming, over and over again. Gasps of breath. Screams. Silence.
It was a terrible way to die, and not something Yenia was eager to experience, but she continued crawling toward the sounds. Her father told her that newly drowned graygoyles hunted by smell, so it was only a matter of time before the monsters discovered Theel lying in the mud, a new victim with fresh breath to steal.
Time ran out far quicker than Yenia could afford. A shadowy figure, outlined by faint green light, rose up out of the mud nearby. Yenia could see the creature’s head turning this way and that, as if looking for something, or sniffing for it. Pointy flippers dug into the mud, propelling the creature through the muck. It was moving much faster than Yenia could, and it was headed for Theel.
Yenia was desperate to move faster, but it was like trying to swim through quicksand. The monster reached Theel while Yenia was still far away. It began to nose around Theel’s face and neck, sniffing at his skin. All the while, it made choking and gagging sounds as if it was in the process of dying, but also acting with an urgency as if it thought Theel’s body contained its only salvation. With one quick swipe it sliced his shirt open, then sniffed some more. It seemed to find the spot it was looking for and raised a pointed flipper, about to jam it into the squire’s flesh.
Yenia was only feet away, yet too far to help. But nothing would stop her from trying. She said a prayer and jumped. She found almost no footing, her legs slipped, and she flopped on her face. But she briefly got her hands on the creature’s arm, just long enough to keep the flipper away from her brother’s chest. It also provided a moment of distraction, forcing the graygoyle to look away from its victim. Yenia seized this moment to jump again, and to slip and fall again. But this time she landed on the graygoyle, knocking it off Theel.
Both monster and girl fell into the mud, but the monster was only interested in Theel. It ignored Yenia and sprang back toward her brother. The creature raised its flipper again, intending to tear the squire’s chest open, but Yenia jumped on it from behind. She tried to grab the creature by the head but it was impossible with slippery, mud-covered hands. So she grabbed it by the neck, slipped her fingers into its gills and held it tight. The sharp, scaly flesh cut and scraped her fingers as the graygoyle thrashed beneath her, but she kept her grip.
Yenia never fought a newly drowned graygoyle before, had never fought anything while complete covered in slippery mud. Her fear should have worsened, but instead she felt her instincts taking control. Her father taught her not to ignore fear, but to rely on the things she’d been taught. The knight was certain to teach his children much. The weak spots of a newborn graygoyle were a growing portion of its new form, and a dying portion of its old. Father’s words were clear: Hurt the creature in its gills and throat.
She held on with her left hand and punched with her right. She slammed her fist into the monster’s throat as it screamed and fought, and the two flopped around in the mud. The graygoyle was strong. It tossed her around like a bucking horse trying to throw her off, but she refused to let go. Yenia grew up riding horses. Hundreds of the animals had tried to throw her. She never fell easily, and she didn’t fall now. She held on and punched the creature as hard as she could, first in the throat, then in the gills.
Theel often ridiculed the weakness of Yenia’s punches. But now, the only thing saving the squire from a horrible death was the strength in his little sister’s arm. She punched it again. And again.
Yenia smashed the creature’s neck until she felt the flesh collapse beneath her knuckles. The monster weakened beneath her and its repulsive gagging became a soft wheeze. Yenia knew she was winning; knew she could finish this fast. She shoved the creature’s face down into the mud, then threw her weight behind an elbow that crunched the back of its neck.
The creature stopped moving, so Yenia rolled off and crawled through the mud toward her brother. She didn’t have far to go, but time was growing short. The noises of her struggle with the graygoyle captured the attention of the others. They were aware of her presence, knew there was a fresh victim in the cavern with a fresh body to savage. She could hear the splatters of the monsters diving into the mud and swimming toward her.
She touched Theel’s forehead and felt warmth there. Her brother was unconscious, but very much alive.
Yenia breathed a quick prayer of thanks.
But now she faced a new problem. How would she get Theel out of here? She wasn’t strong enough to carry her brother’s body through the mud; not before the graygoyles caught her. She looked down at the rope around her waist, then back at the cluster of stalagmites where Guarn’s boat waited. Perhaps there was no need to carry her brother…
Yenia removed the mooring rope she wore around her waist and began to tie it around her brother’s chest. But she was interrupted just as soon as she started. Another graygoyle climbed out of the mud, gagging and reeking, the faint green outline of its body only feet away. The graygoyle smelled Yenia, shrieked at her, then attacked.
Pointy flippers cut the air, stabbing and slashing. The monster sliced the sleeve of her shirt open, cutting her forearm. Then it slammed into her chest, knocking her onto her back. It jumped on her and screamed, spitting filthy fish breath in her face.
Yenia was pinned down, her back mushed into the mud. She couldn’t move, couldn’t stop the creature from raisin
g a pointed flipper. It wanted to jam the appendage into her chest, to cut her open and steal the breath within. But before the creature could strike, Yenia reached out to her brother.
She pulled the knife out of Theel’s chest. Then she jammed it into the graygoyle’s forehead.
The creature’s shrieking ended instantly as its body sagged. Yenia jerked the blade free of the graygoyle’s head and kicked its body off her. That one was finished, but more of the creatures were coming. Yenia could hear the mushing and squishing of their slimy bodies swimming through the muck.
She stowed the knife in her belt and finished tying the rope around Theel’s chest. She knew this was going to hurt her brother, possibly worsen his chest wound, but she had no choice. She scrambled as best she could back toward the boat, which was waiting on the other side of the cluster of stalagmites. She crawled between the rocks, then peered back to where Theel lay in the mud. She could see her brother’s head and shoulders sticking out of the mud, tied to the end of the line.
He was like bait on a hook. And the fish were coming to feast.
She wrapped the mooring rope around her waist, placed her feet against the stalagmites, and pulled. At first, nothing happened. She pulled on the rope with all her might, feeling the strain of it in her knees and back. Her legs began to shake, she groaned loudly, but still nothing happened. She feared she wasn’t strong enough, that she’d undertaken an impossible task. But then she heard a sucking plop, the sound of the mud finally releasing its grip on her brother’s body. She was pulling so hard she fell back into the boat, cracking her head against one of the seats, but she came back up jubilant and pulling hard on the rope. The going was much easier with Theel’s body siding across the top of the mud. But she didn’t know if she was going fast enough.
The faint glow of the luminous fungus wasn’t enough for Yenia to see the graygoyles clearly. But she could see multiple shadowy shapes crawling through the muck. And she could hear them. She could hear the choking and gagging of their breath and the slapping sounds of their flippers striking the mud.
Some of those sounds were frighteningly close.
But not close enough. Yenia knew the graygoyles were not going to reach her brother in time. She knew this as she pulled her brother through a gap in the stalagmites. She reached over the bow of the boat, grabbed two fists full of her brother’s shirt, and hauled him in. Then she grabbed a paddle and pushed it into the mud, trying to shove the boat back into the water.
A graygoyle exploded out of the mud to Yenia’s right, at the bow of the boat. The creature tried to climb over the side, swiping at her. But she stomped on its flipper, then kicked it in the face, still trying to push the boat out into the water. The graygoyle tried to climb back up, but she kicked it again, this time crushing its nose.
The creature fell back into the mud, unmoving.
That’s when the other graygoyles reached the stalagmites. Yenia could see them looking at her through the rocks. One of them climbed atop, its black silhouette menacing and hissing. Yenia pushed on the paddle and it sank deep into the mud, but the boat finally floated away from the shoreline.
The strong currents of the river caught the boat and pulled it away, but the other graygoyles weren’t ready to give up. The one perched atop the stalagmites launched itself high into the air, trying to jump into the boat. The creature fell short and splashed into the water. But it was still not done. The graygoyle could swim as well as any fish, and it propelled itself faster than the drifting boat. Yenia didn’t even attempt to paddle, only waited for the monster to reach her.
As soon as the creature reached the boat and pulled itself up, she brought the paddle down in an overhead chop like she was swinging an axe. The blade of the paddle was dull wood, not sharpened steel, but it split the graygoyle’s head all the same. The crunching sound was sickening. The creature’s head fell into two grotesque halves, and its body sank quietly into the inky, black water.
Yenia had broken the blade of her paddle in half, but she didn’t care. As soon as the threat was over, she thrust the wood back into the water and paddled as best as she could. She couldn’t see a thing, but guessed whatever lay ahead wasn’t worse than what she was leaving behind. A darkness deeper than any she’d known enveloped the peanut-shaped boat.
Hopefully, the darkness wasn’t hiding another waterfall.
The Thirsty Soldier
Yenia was in a terrible predicament.
She was up to her neck in water, clinging to the side of Uncle Guarn’s boat, hiding from the sun beneath a small wooden bridge. For the majority of the last hour, she’d listened as booted feet tramped across the boards above her head, punctuated by the occasional clopping of horse hooves.
It sounded as if the entire Iatan army was crossing the creek above her head. She knew they’d never hear any noise she might make, not over the racket they made, the tramping of thousands of feet, the rumble of dozens of wagons. But she still held perfectly still, not making a sound, not allowing the boat to rock or even a ripple to spread. The Iatan must not find her and her brother, Theel, who still lay unconscious in the boat. They must cross the bridge and be on their way. And Yenia would not come out of hiding until she was absolutely certain they were gone.
It was a routine to which she’d become accustomed. Moving her brother across the floor of the Toden River Valley without help from a horse or a cart, while trying to avoid detection by the thousands of Iatan soldiers that crowded every major roadway, was no small task. She chose to attempt it using the waterways. Sometimes, when she felt safe enough to move in the open, she paddled Guarn’s boat. Other times, when she knew the enemy was near, she swam and towed the vessel behind her. This approach required a great deal of hiding whenever the Iatan were spotted. Yenia had spent considerable time hiding among rocks, logs, and tree roots, or among reeds and cattails, getting acquainted with frogs, ducks, and snakes.
It may not have been the fastest way, but it was the best she could do. Theel was hurt badly, with a knife wound in his chest. He should have been in a sickbed under the care of a healer, not traveling across a valley floor crawling with enemy soldiers. But it was the only way. There was no taking him back to Fal Daran, and there was no sitting around in the Trader’s Cave waiting for a miracle. The only choice was to keep moving southward, across the valley floor, using Uncle Guarn’s boat.
Yenia listened as the sounds of the boots thumping on the bridge deck ceased. For a few breaths, she was able to enjoy some quiet. But then the sound of horses’ hooves clopped loudly across, first a trickle, then a torrent, as if it was raining horseshoes against the wood. Then wagon wheels rolled and bumped along, punctuated by the occasional bellowing of oxen. Yenia was listening to the Iatan supply train, following behind the infantry. The siblings had wanted to be long gone by the time the Iatan infantry reached this point, but the soldiers of the Witchfinder, a waterfall, and some graygoyles conspired against them.
The original plan was to travel to the river town of Axelhead. Nestled in the fork at the joining of the Toden and Greenstone rivers, Axelhead was the largest city controlled by the Embriss-born Alister family, known as the Valley Lords, who had ruled over the Toden for hundreds of years. It was in Axelhead that the siblings hoped to find a man who labored in the service of the Alisters, a tradesman named Hoachim, whose name was included on Uncle Guarn’s list of friends to be trusted. If luck smiled, Hoachim would be able to find them transport on a caravan heading southward, out of the valley, and away from this war.
But the siblings were still miles away from Axelhead when Yenia could see something was wrong. There were signs a battle had been fought for possession of the river crossings—plumes of smoke and clouds of carrion birds. And those signs worsened as the town grew nearer. To protect their holdings, the Alisters had built towers at each of the river crossings, which stood as sentinels over the town for generations. The nearest tower south of the fork smoldered as if it had been torched. As they floated closer, Yenia sea
rched for some sign the Alisters still controlled the town. Just one banner depicting the family sigil, a silver pike on a blue field, would have given her comfort.
Then she saw another tower built to the north of the river, which finally showed her the crest she was looking for—but not in the fashion she hoped to see. A crowd of carrion birds fluttered around a row of heads mounted on spikes. Beneath this hung a banner with the war emblem of the Wards of the Valley. These were probably one or more of Lord Alister’s sons, along with their lieutenants, butchered and their heads displayed like trophies.
Yenia could see those who were responsible camped on the far side of the town, rows of white tents and horses to the north of the fork.
Iatan cavalry.
They’d taken the town, and her bridges with it. Yenia couldn’t begin to guess how they’d done it so quickly. The Alisters must have been caught by surprise. But no matter. The Iatan were north of the river, and now had control of the valley all the way to Korsiren. It meant their plan to accomplish the encirclement of Fal Daran was succeeding. So far. Yenia prayed they’d succeed no further.
But this presented a new problem. Yenia had paddled and swam all those miles in an effort to reach Axelhead, hoping to find help there. But now the streets of the city were full of enemy soldiers. There was no chance of finding a healer for Theel, seeking the aid of the trader Hoachim, or buying passage south on a caravan.
Warrior Baptism Chapter 2 Page 4