Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1)

by CW Thomas

  “You like this, don’t you?” she said.

  “Maybe a little.”

  He poked her, and she chuckled.

  “If you make me fall I’ll make sure I land on your face with my fists.”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  BRODERICK

  Broderick worked his way down the rock ledge to a small white flag. It’s ragged edges waved in the wind off the tip of a stick wedged into a tight crevice. He reached for it, unconcerned by the rocky shore hundreds of feet below. He yanked the flag free and climbed back up to the grassy ledge where he took off running through the forest.

  He considered pacing himself for the eleven furlongs he had to travel, but after doing the math he knew he could cover the distance. The length of the city of Aberdour at its longest point was eleven furlongs, or half a league, and Broderick had once ran the entire distance at a full sprint with energy to spare.

  He raced through the sparse forest of tall pines and cedars before emerging into an emerald glade deep in the hills east of Halus Gis. The autumn air was refreshing and cool.

  Ty and Preston were already waiting for him, both of them dressed down in old tunics and tight fitting slacks made for running. They both looked tired, sweaty, and ready for lunch.

  “We’re running out of time,” Broderick said, slowing to a stop. “Sun’s almost at its peak.”

  Nash sprinted into the glade from the south, sweat glistening off his muscled torso. He stopped in front of Broderick and rested his hands on his knees.

  “What are you having?” Ty asked, pointing to the flag in Broderick’s hand.

  He showed it to the three boys, a rather unremarkable little brown stick with a tattered rag attached. “Does this mean anything to any of you?”

  Ty took it, grinning. “I’m thinking this clue is being for me. This is being a piece of the broken sailboat I found on the cliffs western of the monastery.”

  Nash slapped him on the back. “Good job, Tai… Ty-guh… Ty-guh… How do you say your full name again?”

  Ty seemed irritated. Broderick didn’t blame him. He had lost count of the number of times they had to question him about the correct pronunciation of his Efferousian name.

  “Taighfinn Torinfinn Deelyous,” he answered. “Me father gives this name to me, and me middle name belongs to me mother. I’s carries these names proudly.”

  “Taighfinn Torinfinn Deelyous,” Nash repeated.

  “And if you are being a true Efferousian you say the ah at the end: Deelyous–ah.”

  Nash pointed to the crude wooden slingshot sticking out of Ty’s back pocket. “I think that clue is for me. Stoneman helped me make a slingshot like that from a piece of driftwood we found in the ravine.”

  “So you need to go to the ravine then?” Preston asked, running a hand through his long sweat-drenched locks.

  Nash shrugged. “Apparently.”

  Brayden hurried into the glade, a horse’s leather bridal swinging about in his hands.

  “This is what I found,” he said, skidding to a stop next to the others. “I have no idea what it means.”

  “You’re not supposed to,” Broderick said. “Remember what Khalous told us? Only the first clue was for us. The next clue is for someone else.”

  Brayden examined the bridle once again. “I think this is the bridle for that gray speckled mare, Shini.”

  “I just helped Brother Cassius shoe her two days ago,” Preston said.

  Brayden passed the brown leather bridal over to him. “This must be for you then. I just hope you’re right. We’ll get penalized if you’re not.”

  In Preston’s hands was a necklace that belonged to Ariella. She had lost it two moons ago and Brayden had been the one to find it.

  “She probably has your last clue,” Preston said, handing the necklace to Brayden.

  Nash had found a whetstone, which no one knew what to do with until Clint stumbled into the glade, limping and out of breath.

  “I sharpened kitchen knives on that thing all afternoon with Lorne, remember?” Clint said, taking the whetstone. “Bloody nightmare, that was.”

  “Clint, your clue must be for me,” Broderick said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Everyone else has theirs. You’re the only one left.”

  Clint shrugged. “I, uh, I didn’t really find anything. Well, just a, uh, a note. Yeah, a note.”

  “A note?”

  “Yeah, it said, ‘The Whispering Cave.’”

  Broderick swallowed nervously and hoped none of the boys noticed his hesitancy. “Where is it?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never heard of a whispering cave.”

  “No. The note, dumbass.”

  “Oh. Uh, it blew away with the wind. Sorry.”

  Nash spun toward Broderick. “I know! That cave north of the road. Remember when we explored it and the wind sounded like hissing or whispering inside.” He looked at Clint. “You were with us, weren’t you?”

  “Oh, right. Forgot.”

  Broderick knew what cave they were talking about all right. He just hoped they were mistaken. Perhaps the clue was really intended for someone else.

  “That could be a clue for any of us,” he said.

  “It has to be for you,” said Nash. “The slingshot is definitely mine, and the whetstone isn’t for anyone except Clint.”

  Broderick felt a chill run down his back.

  “We better hurry,” Brayden said. “Khalous wanted us all back before the noon bell.”

  Broderick turned south. He sprinted through the trees, bounding over rocks and logs and plowing his way through underbrush, ignoring the brambles that raked across his skin and tugged at his clothes. He turned west toward the trail that connected Halus Gis to the Border Road.

  He followed the ridge along the road until it sloped down into a wide gully that ended at the rocky opening of a hidden cave.

  Broderick slowed to rest and regarded the entrance for several moments. He hoped he wouldn’t have to venture too far inside.

  “This is stupid,” he muttered. “Figures that Khalous would give this task to me.”

  He moved down the slope toward the cave’s opening. After a brief search around the entrance that yielded no obvious clues, he stooped down and took a few steps into the darkness. The air was damp and cold, and carried the faint whiff of cucumbers. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the light.

  He wondered if perhaps he could decipher the clue without having to find it. Why had Khalous left a note that directed him to come to the Whispering Cave? What was the significance of this location? The others had known instantly what their clues had meant, but no matter how hard he thought about it he couldn’t figure out why Khalous had sent him here.

  He looked down, noticing the ground was smooth as though something large had been dragged through the area.

  The cave widened and dipped downward, plunging into an oblivion of darkness.

  Broderick stopped and exhaled in defeat. Whatever Khalous expected him to find it wouldn’t happen without torchlight.

  “Damn the stones,” he muttered. He knew he didn’t have the time to go find a torch. He would have to return empty handed. Consequently, the boys would fail their test.

  Broderick turned to leave. Then he paused. He despised the thought of losing.

  He glanced over his shoulder, wondering what lay deeper in the dark.

  Frustrated over his own indecision, he growled, turned in a huff, and started further into the cave. With careful footing he worked his way down the slope. The ground was steeper than he realized. He moved slow at first, but soon found the loose gravel sliding out from under him. He leaned back to catch himself with his hands, but his feet slipped forward. He lost his balance and tumbled down the incline. Darkness surrounded him. Rocks cut into his knees and elbows as his body twisted and rolled.

  He landed on his chest, his face bouncing off something warm and leathery.

  Then the object moved.
r />   Startled, Broderick yelped and scurried backward.

  Something hissed, a hoarse wheezing sound that filled the rocky chamber. In the blackness he saw nothing except a few glimmers of the distant light shining off an animal unfurling in the dark.

  Broderick scampered up the slope, hands clawing at the dirt, toes churning on the gravel in a mad dash to reach the top. He heard the creature behind him shifting its weight on the ground. He could only imagine its size, which sounded immense.

  Halfway up the slope he heard the creature inhale an aggressive rasp as though it had finally caught sight of him. He figured his surprise entrance into its lair had startled the beast, but now, having overcome its initial shock, it was preparing to strike.

  Panic filled him as he continued his frenzied escape.

  He heard the creature crawling out of the cave behind him—the drag of its belly along the ground, and the metallic scrape of its back on the stony ceiling. It’s sheer size filled the rock tube. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed a pair of large serpentine eyes glinting in the dim light.

  A surge of adrenaline pushed Broderick up the slope. He crested the rise and raced toward the mouth of the cave.

  The creature roared again, husky and angry.

  Broderick exploded from the darkness into the hazy white light of the forest. He dashed through the underbrush, taking several sharp lashes to the face by leafless brambles. He ignored their sting, ignored the pain from the cuts on his knees and elbows, and surged through the woods.

  When the creature roared again its sound was distant, but no less angry.

  He risked another glance over his shoulder. To his relief, he saw nothing but trees and brush.

  Still, he refused to stop. His fear wouldn’t let him.

  He sprinted until he was heaving uncontrollable breaths that made his lungs burn. A pulled muscle in his stomach forced him to slow his pace. He ran north toward Halus Gis until exhaustion began to creep over him. He became aware of a pain in his left ankle that made him limp. By the time he passed through the southeastern gate of the monastery he was moving at a slow jog.

  Khalous was waiting in front of the barn with Brayden, Nash, Preston, Clint, and Ty. They were laughing and talking, showing off the items they had claimed. When Khalous noticed Broderick his expression filled with concern and he hurried toward him.

  “What happened?” he yelled.

  Broderick dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

  “Are you all right?” Khalous asked. He took a knee next to Broderick, his barrel-like torso leaning in close to him. “Where were you?”

  “The cave,” Broderick breathed, “I was in the cave. Something.” He shook his head, not knowing how to explain what had come after him. “Something big. Basilisk. I don’t know. I didn’t want to look at it.”

  “Basilisk,” Ty said, his voice filled with awe. “To even look at a basilisk is to die.”

  “That’s pig’s slop,” Clint said.

  “What cave?” Khalous said. “Why were you in a cave?”

  Broderick pointed to Clint. “The note. He said the note said to go to the Whispering Cave.”

  Khalous looked at Clint. “What note? You should have given him the broken hinge to the dormitory door that he helped me repair.”

  Clint shrugged. “It was just a joke man.”

  A new surge of adrenaline swept over Broderick, one of rage and vengeance. “What?”

  “You’ve won too many of these games,” Clint said. “I wanted to throw you—”

  Clint went down the moment Broderick’s knuckles connected with his face. He dropped down on top of him and tried to hit him again, but Clint’s arms were up over his head.

  “Get off me you motherless sow,” Clint said. “It was just a joke!”

  Clint managed to shove Broderick away and kick him in the shoulder.

  “All right,” Khalous said. “That’s enough.”

  Clint’s fist caught Broderick in the eye, sending fireflies through his brain. A moment later Clint jumped on him and delivered a hail of blows that cut Broderick’s lip, made his nose explode with a thousand needles, and his head lash back against the dirt.

  “Stop it!” Khalous shouted, reaching for Clint. He yanked him to his feet. Clint twisted out of his grasp, lost his balance and fell on his side.

  Broderick took advantage of Clint’s prone position and slammed both feet into the right side of his head, tearing off the bottom of his earlobe with the heal of his boot. Clint wailed.

  “What is going on here?” shouted an all-too-familiar voice

  Pale hands pushed between Brayden and Nash, revealing Prior Gravis in his brown robe. He took one look at Clint’s bloodied ear and his eyes went wide with horror. He knelt to calm the screaming Clint.

  “Khalous, I’ll have none of this violence within these walls!” Gravis yelled.

  Broderick jumped to his feet and thrust a finger at Clint. “Serves you right, you idiot! I almost got killed because of you!”

  Gravis helped Clint to his feet. He pointed the young man in the direction of the chapel and told him to go see Ariella. Then he turned to face the captain, disdain etched upon his pale face. “Khalous, I tolerate your violent training so near to our monastery, but I will not allow this kind of enraged bloodshed on these holy grounds. Now I must insist—”

  Khalous lifted his hand toward the prior. “If you’re going to reprimand me I ask that you not do it in front of the boys.”

  Gravis looked peeved, but collected himself, and said, “May I speak with you privately then?”

  “No.” Khalous pointed to Broderick. “You. Follow me.” He turned and stomped toward the barn, his shoulders hunched like some miserly creature.

  Broderick followed him, limping on his twisted ankle and clutching the sore muscles in his stomach.

  In the barn, Khalous patted a squat milking stool and told Broderick to sit. He obeyed without protest, relieved to finally be able to rest his aching legs.

  The large three-story barn had been their home since arriving at the abbey. With the dormitories full of women and children, the duktori had allowed them to take refuge in the barn’s loft.

  “You’ll get extra chores for that,” Khalous said.

  “What? What did I do?”

  Khalous went to a leather satchel and removed a small glass bottle of ointment and a rag.

  “You’re brash and foolish and too much like your sister Lia.”

  Lia. Broderick hadn’t even heard her name in months. The memory of her pinched his heart.

  “She thinks with her emotions, too.” Khalous pulled up a second stool and seated himself next to Broderick. He uncorked the small bottle, which contained a rancid smelling liquid. He poured some of it onto the rag. “Emotions aren’t a bad thing. But when we don’t keep them in check, they sting.”

  The rag felt like fire when Khalous touched it to the cuts on his arm. Broderick tried to pull away, but the captain held him in place. The burn only lasted a moment.

  Khalous continued treating his cuts.

  “I have a hard enough time convincing the leaders of this place to let me train you here. I don’t need you flying off the saddle every time someone makes you angry.”

  “Clint sent me into the cave on purpose,” Broderick said. “He tried to get me killed.”

  “Your cousin is a moron, not a murderer. He’ll be reprimanded strongly, don’t you worry about that. I’m trying to get you boys to work together as a team, to trust one another, but you just keep acting like a bunch of buffoons.”

  He handed Broderick the bottle and told him to finish covering all his cuts with the antibiotic.

  “I need to go have a chat with your cousin, and then that insufferable Gravis.” He walked from the barn in an irritated huff.

  Both Broderick and Clint were banished from the dining hall that night, a punishment neither of them cared about anyway. Eating with the solemn priests and strict nuns was becoming a chore all in itself. For
those like Broderick who much preferred the freedom to fidget and talk and make rude bodily noises, the barn was a much more fitting place to eat.

  As angry as he was with his cousin, by the time they were halfway through their meal they were joking together like nothing had ever happened.

  “Did you really see a basilisk?” Clint asked as he sat on a hay bale gnawing on a chicken leg.

  “I think so,” Broderick answered, “but it was dark. Whatever it was, it was big.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “The cave was small. I don’t think it could move very fast.” He shrugged. “But I don’t really know. I just ran as fast as I could.”

  “How many times did I hit you anyway?”

  Broderick counted his bruises. “Eight.”

  “Ha! Well you only hit me three times. I win.”

  “I took a chunk out of your ear though,” Broderick said. He pointed to the white bandage wrapped around Clint’s head.

  “I wonder if we went outside if we could find it,” Clint said. “Drop it in the abbot’s soup.”

  The two boys nearly killed themselves with laughter.

  They were indeed given extra chores the following morning. They were sent to clean fallen branches and leaves from the monastery’s garden courtyard, as well as the surrounding stone cloister. They assisted the nuns with dinner preparation and cleaned the chapel’s sanctuary after the evening meal.

  Life in Halus Gis was a far cry from the cushy castle living they had enjoyed with their royal families on Edhen. At the monastery, life was hard. Everyone earned their stay through hard work, and there were no servants to pick up the slack.

  It all served to remind Broderick just how much he missed home.

  In the mornings he and the others learned about science, history, and medicine from the nuns, followed by classes on math, language, and culture from the priests. The classroom teachings offered little of interest to Broderick, though he was learning to speak Efferousian, which he only took seriously because Khalous said he wouldn’t continue to train him unless he did.

  Slightly more interesting was the survival classes taught by Pick and Stoneman that came after lunch. Broderick learned how to fashion traps for small animals, how to think like a forest predator, and what plants held medicinal qualities.