After stumbling and falling twice in the dark, Corian began to consider that he might have pushed himself too far. He slowed and began to look for a good place to spend the night. His heart was beating hard and steady in his chest and his breath came fast. The gator meat he’d eaten that morning was long gone.
He looked around, ignoring the bugs that buzzed by his ears while keeping an eye out for any nuts, berries, or other fruits. Instead, he heard the sound of water rushing and splashing over rocks. He licked his lips and lifted his head to get a better sense of where the sound came from.
Corian neared the top of a hill to his right and hesitated. The noise of the water hissing didn’t sound right. He shrugged his bow off his shoulders and bent it to fit the string to it. Satisfied, he sidestepped until he passed through the hanging fronds of a willow tree. He moved up to the thick trunk and stepped around it, straining with his eyes and ears.
The elf had to make his way across the top of the hill and kneel down to look under the branches before he saw a group of splisskin gathered on a rock ledge above the river that flowed from the northwest to the east. He jerked back, frightened they might see him, and retreated all the way to the trunk of the tree before stopping to consider what he’d seen.
What were they doing here? There were trails through the mountains, but they were seldom traveled and considered perilous. It was quicker to reach the human land of Shazamir, but the mountain passes were too difficult for wagons. A different group of splisskin had struck Glennduril, which was dozens of miles away. Why was this group here?
Corian’s eyes widened as he remembered the small patrol he’d found and butchered after they’d kill the messenger. What were they doing there? And why was his sister important enough to capture when they’d killed the messenger?
Corian snorted and rose to his feet. Thork was another factor. The troll made him think he was important somehow. He’d known Jilly’s name, for that matter. Was he working with the splisskin? Why save him then? Corian scowled. He had too many questions and no answers. He should have pressed Thork harder but he’d been overwhelmed by everything at the time.
“I’ll get my answers now,” Corian whispered. He drew an arrow and fit it to his bow.
The elf slipped back to his position at the fringe of the willow’s branches and drew back his bow. He had to hold it parallel to the ground, a position he hadn’t practiced as much with, and drew a bead on a splisskin near the outer edges of the firelight from the camp. He loosed his arrow and reached for another, pulling it free as he heard the soft thump of his first arrow striking the splisskin in the back above where Corian had hoped to strike him in the heart.
Corian released his second arrow as the splisskin beside the first turned and began to lurch to his feet. The arrow hit him in the side and tore through his lower chest and upper abdomen. The splisskin staggered and collapsed, hands grabbing the arrow that still protruded from his left side.
Corian rose to his feet as he drew a third arrow and took two quick steps to his right before thrusting his bow between the loose branches of the willow and sighting in a third of the surprised splisskin party. They were looking around and rising to their feet, swords, spears, and even a few bows in their hands. Corian chose a random turning target and released, striking him just inside his shoulder. The arrow tore through scales and flesh and burst out the splisskan’s back near his spine before skipping off the rock underfoot.
The splisskin hissed warnings and pointed up at him. Corian’s eyes widened at how easily they’d spotted him. He hadn’t bothered counting but there was well over a dozen remaining. He’d hoped to slaughter several more before his position was given away.
Corian drew another arrow and fired as soon as he drew the string back, tearing a furrow along the outside thigh and ripping a hole in the calf of the same leg of the splisskin leading the charge up the hill towards him.
An arrow ripped through the branches next to him, making him leap back in surprise. He reached for another and grasped for a second place to move to. He hadn’t done as much scouting as he should have; his anger had distracted and blinded him. Corian turned and fit the arrow to his bow just as a fire bit him in the back of his leg just beneath his bottom. He grunted and jumped, shocked at the sudden pain.
Corian scrambled, running and trying to ignore the way his wound felt like a thousand ants biting him in the arse. He swept one hand back to make sure there wasn’t an arrow sticking out of him. There was nothing back there; the arrow that struck him was a grazing blow. He sighed in relief and spun. He drew his string and sighted through the narrow openings in the willow’s branches for movement. From what he could tell, the splisskin were charging in numbers. It was a target-rich environment.
He guessed at where one of the snake men would be based on his legs and fired through the hanging branches. He turned, uncertain if the arrow struck home or not, and darted to his right. Barely two steps passed before his leg began to burn worse and cramp up on him. He limped, jumping on one leg for a few steps until he could force himself to try to put weight on the injured leg again.
Corian spun, drawing a fresh arrow and drawing it back. He clenched his teeth and heard himself growling through the pain. He’d never been shot or stabbed but he’d hurt himself time and again. It never burned like this did. The first splisskin that burst through the branches earned an arrow in his raised forearm. The arrow struck with force enough to bury the blades just below his collarbone, pinning his transfixed arm to his chest.
Corian limped back, drawing and firing arrow after arrow as the splisskin charged him. He hit more than he missed but his accuracy suffered. Four more splisskin were stuck with arrows by the time Corian stumbled through the far edge of the willow’s hanging branches. A hiss and the sound of a foot sliding against the ground alerted him to turn to his right. He ducked under a curved sword slash and tripped on the uneven ground. Corian rolled, throwing himself into it to gain more distance from the flanking splisskin.
Roots and rocks struck him, leaving bruises and making him grunt what air he had out of his chest. He hit a large rock; it spun him and left him stunned and laying on his side on a rock. He jerked up, fighting to figure out which way was up as much as he was struggling to ignore the many pains in his body.
Corian looked up and saw the walking lizards approaching. They fanned out, a few of them sporting arrows that emerged from their arms or legs. He saw his bow lying nearby and lunged to grab it. The pain in his leg wound made him hiss and drove him to one knee. He grabbed the bow in spite of it and struggled to fit an arrow to the string.
Corian was spun around as an arrow slammed into the right side of his chest just below his shoulder. It ripped through, tearing flesh and muscle. Even worse than the agony of the rips in his body was the burning fire that paralyzed his chest for a terrible moment. He thought he was drowning again until he forced himself to relax and remember he wasn’t underwater.
Corian turned back to the splisskin. They were closer now but he’d dropped his bow when he’d been shot. Almost close enough to hack him apart. He scrambled back, sliding across the rock away from them until he came to the edge of the shelf. The river rushed by below him. Not a straight drop but close enough. He looked up and saw the closest splisskin hiss something at him in his sibilant tongue and lunge for him.
Corian leaned back and pushed off with his good leg. He tumbled over the edge, slipping under the thrusting sword tip and then enjoying a heartbeat of weightlessness before he slammed into the steep side of the short cliff and bounce off and away. He hit the rocky bank and rolled into the water, barely conscious and suddenly thrust back into the same watery nightmare that had almost killed him less than twenty-four hours ago.
The rushing water swept Corian away. It carried him east and sent him tumbling and plunging through rapids and over small waterfalls. The cold water soothed the burning in his leg and chest, but it left him numb and desperate for breath whenever he could get his face above
the surface. A small bundle of fallen branches crossed the river ahead. He managed to grab it with his left arm and hold himself still long enough to gather his breath and spit out what water was in his mouth.
His fingers trembled, the cold and exhaustion sapping their strength. He began to force his right arm up out of the water when he saw movement up the river. The splisskin were searching for him, two of them leading the way with arrows fit to bows. Corian lacked the energy to curse. They weren’t trying to capture him; they were going to kill him. He had no choice.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before letting go of the branches. The current swept him under and downstream towards a roaring waterfall that fell a dozen feet. He clutched his arms to his chest and thought up a prayer to Saint Preth, the patron of survival.
Chapter 9
Allie tucked her bundle of dry clothes under her arm as she walked along the edge of the river. She was dripping sweat again after her morning workout. Grandpa drilled her over and over, making her fight against imaginary opponents and then beat a bale of hay until she was itching and exhausted. Then he made her rake up the hay and feed their horses.
The only good part was the time it gave her to think about what he’d told her. They’d talked about her mom, or at least as much about her mom as Grandpa knew. He said they’d lived in Assurion’s Crossing but it was burned down. Grandpa and her dad found it burning and her dad rescued her. He couldn’t save her mom, though. It was enough for Allie; it made sense why her dad didn’t talk about it. He must have felt bad. She couldn’t wait to see him again and give him a hug and let him know she didn’t blame him. Maybe then he’d open up and tell her more about what she’d been like.
Her muscles were sore and her arms were so tired they felt like they were made of iron. But she felt good. Great, actually. She was covered in dust and sweat and didn’t smell like a girl ought to smell, but she felt alive. Even more than that, Grandpa had nodded and smiled a few times, approving of her progress.
Even more exciting than all of that, she was dying to jump in the river and go for a swim. She walked as fast as she could without breaking into a jog and reached the spot she’d been a couple of days past, after she’d broken Talwin’s arm. The healer at the shrine to the patron saint of light and growth had set and bound his arm, but there was little more he could do for him. Magical healing was a thing of miracles and fantasies in Almont. Only the rich and powerful could afford such boons, and they wouldn’t be found anywhere near a tiny trading post like Almont.
Now Talwin was avoiding her and it looked like word had spread. Boys were steering clear of her and the three girls in the village her age would look at her, but then find something else to do. She was different from them. She wanted more out of life. The simple fact that she was learning to defend herself was more than they could understand. She was a girl—in their eyes, she should set her sights on finding a man to protect her.
Allisandra pushed the thoughts of her peers away. Today was a good day. The sun was hot and the water cool and inviting. She’d worked hard and now she was going to enjoy some time to herself. She kept going, heading farther upstream than she usually bothered to go. She had the whole day ahead of her and wanted to do some exploring.
She found a log that had been washed up on shore and set her things on top of it. She unbuckled her grandpa’s sword and added it to the pile, and then checked around before stripping off her clothes and splashing into the river.
The cool water startled her and made the sun seem even warmer against her uncovered flesh. Her frequent swims kept her body tanned all over, something she was happy that her dad and grandpa hadn’t noticed. They gave her as much privacy as they could, but their houses were small and among family, modesty sometimes had to step aside.
She dove into the river and felt the cool water shock her skin and soak into her hair to tickle her scalp. It was a good thing she wasn’t among family or friends now; she only had the water to provide cover. She splashed around and rolled onto her back, striking out with her arms and kicking her feet to propel herself into the deeper middle of the river. She rolled over and dove until her finger touched the gritty bottom. Satisfied, she pushed off and kicked her way to the surface.
Allie burst from the surface with enough force to rise out of the water all the way to her belly. She splashed back down and laughed with the sheer thrill of being alive. She swam around, twisting and swimming in circles in the water for a few moments until she grew tired. She lay on her back in the water and kicked against the current, staying mostly in place and closing her eyes so she could feel the warmth of the sun on her face and chest.
Allie flipped over after several seconds. She knew she couldn’t fight the current long and didn’t dare risk floating too close to town. She struck out, swimming hard until her fingers grazed the bottom. She stood up and waded out of the water onto the western bank, moving forward and feeling a chill pimple her skin as the hot air kissed the water off her. The sun’s warmth chased the chill away and left her smiling on the shore.
Allie glanced up at the midday sun and bit her lip. “I’ve got time,” she whispered and turned away from the river. She plunged into the tough grasses and tried her best to avoid the jagged leaves of the bushes and scrub trees with their sharp needles and thorns. She’d learned a few years back when she first began exploring the wilderness how protective clothing was.
She slipped away from the river and up the slope that led to the steeper hills to the west. The mountains were a day’s ride to the west if the ground was flat. Instead, the terrain grew rougher and rougher. The closest road was south, in Assurion’s Crossing, and even that road only ran through the hills and eventually joined other roads.
A few men lived in the hills, but as far as she knew, they were to the south and west. Trappers and hunters, the sort of man who lived alone for a reason. Her dad told her that rumor held of clans of dwarves living in the hills and at the edges of the mountains, but their silver mines had long gone dry and they’d left. All that remained was the elves on the other side of the mountains. That, and the things that lived in the mountains.
Allie stopped and basked in the sunlight. She glanced back, making sure she was hidden from view of the river just in case. Satisfied that both trees and hills hid her, she turned back to the west and stared up at the hazy mountains. Something in the air, dust she’d heard, made them look fuzzy. They were beautiful but so tall and imposing. As much as she wanted to see them, they scared her. What sort of things could live in such a rocky and harsh place? Birds, sure, but she’d heard rumors and whispers of monsters, too.
Allie smiled and shook her dark thoughts away. She was alive and free and the world was a warm and wonderful place. She danced along a game path and followed it to the north, twirling a few times just because she felt like doing it. She remembered a tune a bard had played a few nights past in the Silverdust Tavern and hummed it as she danced.
The trail turned back to her right, towards the river, and she followed it. Had a boar or a deer last traveled it? Could she sneak up on it and see it? She pressed her lips together and stopped humming. She was making too much noise if she wanted to sneak up on anything!
Allie began to move more carefully through the countryside. She slowed down and watched the ground, putting her feet on bare spots or at least avoiding the bushes that would rattle if she brushed against them.
She followed the trail into a small copse of the prickly desert pine trees without realizing it would make a good place for a large animal to bed down for the day. She moved slow, holding a couple of branches at bay to keep from being scratched. She stopped inside the tiny grove and spun in place slowly. The trees made walls around her and made her feel like she was in a room. A room without a roof, but the trees were tall enough to block the early afternoon sun and make her feel cozy and secure.
She stepped on the fallen pine needles and crouched down to look at them. There were enough on the ground it softened the ha
rd-packed dirt. The needles were still sharp, but she could handle a few pricks for the pleasure of how they felt under her feet. Cool and spongy, almost moist. She grinned and rubbed her hand across them.
The loud caw of a bird made her gasp and stand up. Another bird answered, just as close. She peered into the trees ahead of her but couldn’t see anything. The birds continued and she began to hear sounds of wings flapping. More birds or the first two? They sounded big, crows or buzzards or something larger. Raptors, maybe?
Allie’s eyes widened at the thought of seeing a majestic bird like a raptor up close. She moved between two trees and carefully pushed the branches away so she could slip between them and step out.
The birds saw her and cried out in protest. There were three of them. Giant black winged birds with bald heads. Buzzards. They landed and shrieked at her, hopping back and forth to show their agitation. Two were on a fallen tree and a third on a half-dead pine tree. She sniffed the air but didn’t smell any rotting meat.
“Nasty birds,” Allie scolded. “What are you after? Not me, I hope. I’m alive and well, thank you very much.”
They cawed louder and one even hopped along the fallen tree towards her. Allie squawked and took a step back, poking her bare bottom on the pine needles. She yelped and jumped forward. The buzzard flapped its wings and flew back to a nearby tree.
Allie rubbed her stinging backside and glared at the buzzard. Now that she had some extra room, she stepped up to the fallen log and squatted down to grab a branch that had been broken off when the tree fell. She had to twist and yank on it to snap it free, but when she stood up, she felt better for having it.
“Want to try that again, dirty bird?” she taunted the buzzard.
It squawked at her and flew off to land in another tree farther away. The other two birds eyed her and, after she took a few experimental swings with her branch, they took to the air to retreat as well.
Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1) Page 8