Warrior Baptism Chapter 1

by Jonathan Techlin

  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 raising 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.

  To Be Continued In

  Warrior Baptism

  Chapter 2

  Warrior Baptism on Facebook

  Jonathan Techlin on Amazon

  Jonathan Techlin on Goodreads

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  About the Author: Jonathan Techlin lives in Kaukauna, Wisconsin with his wife and two daughters. He enjoys reading, traveling, and following the Green Bay Packers. He is currently working on future chapters in the Warrior Baptism series.

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  This book is dedicated to Mom. You always believed. I love you. I still miss you.

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  Thanks to my brother Mike for letting me write on his computer when I was young. My brother’s office is where the dream began. I always told myself if I published a book, I’d give him a special dedication. This is it. Thanks Mike.

  Thanks also to Dad, Rick, and Adam for continued encouragement and support.

  Very special thanks to Jennifer, my favorite lady. And also to my Anna and Lucy for bringing their unique beauty into my life.

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  Lastly, and most important, I want to give praise to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God has blessed me with the gift of story to keep me sane. It is a privilege and an honor to share it with others. I know I did not create Theel and Yenia, and I can’t wait to find out where their next adventures will take them.

  Love to all.