By noon the glistening water of the lake was in view and Dax signaled for the party to land. There was no shade to provide a refuge as far as the eye could see, so under the full brunt of the midday sun they rested, drenched in sweat and miserable.
Not really hungry, but knowing he needed to eat to maintain his strength, Dax wolfed down his ration of food, a strip of jerky and some dried kalacas fruit. He took a small sip out of one of the casks of water they had filled at the stream the day before and stood up.
“I’m going to scout ahead,” he said. “It’s getting difficult for Drakthira to keep flying without any wind to help bolster flight. She needs to rest.” He looked at Trakon. “You and Sylas stay and watch over her. I will teleport back and get you all once I find a good place to camp tonight.”
Trakon nodded wearily. He wanted to argue about Dax going off by himself, but of them all, Dax was the best equipped for a solitary foray.
Daxon dimmed and disappeared. Once he was gone, Trakon walked to the edge of the water. On the surface it looked so serene. He picked up a palm sized rock and threw it into the water. The rock landed with a loud slap, then slowly began to sink below the surface. He walked along the shore, careful not to touch any of the foul water. Bones from various creatures littered the shore, bleached white by the sun so they blended in well with the sand surrounding them.
He walked back to where Drakthira was napping, Sylas curled up in her shadow, also dozing. He joined the big dog, grateful to get out of the sun. It felt at least ten degrees cooler in the shade. He reached out with his magic, trying to sense any sort of life within this desolate wasteland. He wasn’t expecting to find anything and was mildly surprised to find a tiny bit of life beneath the sand. He focused on it, trying to determine what it was. It felt small, yet large at the same time. He shifted his position to get more comfortable, and immediately felt the things in the sand surge toward him. The sudden movement felt… hungry. He froze. Once he quit moving they stopped, milling about in a confusing mass.
A cold trickle of fear swept down his spine. The things in the sand were, themselves, quite small, no larger than an ant, yet felt large due to the sheer number of them. He moved his foot slightly, testing to see if he was correct and they were drawn to movement, and felt them once more surge toward him, then stop. Waiting.
A drop of sweat dripped down from his forehead into his eyes, making them sting, but he didn’t dare move to wipe it away. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it down, trying to think of what to do. He looked at the huge dog curled up beside him, silently hoping he wouldn’t wake up at that moment and attract the creatures in the sand.
Trakon looked around quickly, hoping he had missed something, a rock or boulder jutting up from the ground, but there was nothing. Just then, ‘Thira’s tail twitched and he once more felt the lifeforms surge toward the movement. This time when they stopped, they were only a few feet below the ground and maybe eight feet away. He would have to think of something quick.
He carefully laid a hand on Sylas. “Sylas, wake up. Mist form, don’t touch the ground!” he said, nearly shouting as he felt the dog’s movement under his hand. The dog quickly dissipated and Trakon caught his hand before it could thump to the ground.
“Wake Drakthira, Sylas. We have to get off of the ground,” he instructed.
He didn’t look behind him to see if Sylas was doing as he asked. Instead he focused on the beings in the sand. So far they hadn’t moved any closer. He heard ‘Thira yawn behind and growl grumpily, the rumbling sending small tremors through the sand which he felt where he sat. The tiny organisms surged once more.
Throwing caution to the wind, Trakon jumped to his feet and yelled, “Off the sand! Hurry!”
He ran to the dragon that was still lying on the ground, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. He leaped onto her back, feeling the creatures reach the surface of the sand at the same time. Turning to look, he saw them emerge. They were as white as the sand they dwelled in, and almost as small. He saw them swarm up the dragon’s body, easily identifiable against her onyx scales.
Drakthira roared and rose to her feet. Smoke was already pouring out of her nostrils. She began to scorch the sand surrounding them, her dragonfire so hot it melted the sand instantly. Trakon, atop her back, watched the small horde as it traveled up her body. They would be on him soon.
He looked down and saw the melted sand and an idea came to him. Channeling as much of his magic as he could, he reformed the scorched earth, cooling it until it was smooth, smoky glass, then he leapt from Drakthira’s back to stand on his newly made platform of glass. As he suspected, the little insects could not climb it, it was too slippery.
The swarm on Drakthira was also not making any progress. Her scales were much too hard for them to break through, and her wounds from the Myste were long since healed. Still, he worried they might make it inside of her mouth or nostrils once she stopped breathing fire.
“Sylas, the pack! Bring it to me!” he said.
Obediently, the dog raced to where he had left their bag of supplies. Remaining dim, except for his head, he snatched up the strap in his mouth and hurried back to the old man.
Trakon took the bag and began to sort through it as fast as he could. The first thing he saw was the small vial containing the tear from the Whisperwood, and he hesitated. He had no doubt she could handle this situation, but he didn’t want to utilize the tear unless he absolutely had to. Besides, truth be told, he was more afraid of the Whisperwood than he was of the insects.
Finally, after a few minutes of searching, his hand closed on a piece of tree bark. He had picked it up along the way, fascinated at the shape of a spider caught within a small circle of hardened tree sap stuck to its rough surface. He tightened his hand around the piece of wood, letting himself feel the tiny kernel of life nearly extinguished within the wood. He coaxed it out, stretching it to reach the spider trapped inside its amber prison, then threw it, hard, to the ground where it hit the glass and shattered.
The newly freed spider seemed disoriented, but quickly recovered. Trakon could feel its hunger as it seized first one, then another, and another of the little white insects. Knowing the single spider wouldn’t be enough, Trakon focused again and used the growing life force within the insect to duplicate the first, until there were two spiders chasing down the horde of miniscule, white bugs. Being so light themselves, they didn’t attract the attention of the swarm like Drakthira or himself.
Trakon repeated the process, duplicating the spiders until there were hundreds, then thousands of large, black spiders. Some were incinerated in Drakthira’s fire, but most steered clear of the heat and chased down the bothersome white horde that had swarmed the dragon, as well as the ones still emerging from the sand.
Sooner than he expected, the remaining white insects disappeared back in the sand, the spiders dispersing as they chased after them. Trakon knelt and picked up a piece of the shattered tree sap. Holding it within his hands, he magically transformed it back into a more malleable, claylike consistency.
Drakthira had stopped breathing fire and Trakon realized the ground they stood on was now dark, smoky glass for yards around where he stood. ‘Thira stepped up onto the glass platform, not wanting to attract another swarm of bugs.
“Here, ‘Thira, let me make sure all of the bugs are off of you,” Trakon said, showing her the sticky sap in his hand. He could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but caution won out, and she nodded her head once, briefly.
“It won’t be too bad. I will stretch this out over your entire body, then harden it so you can simply shake it off. All the remaining bugs should get caught within, like the spider was before. Now, close your eyes.”
Drakthira stood still while Trakon worked, her eyes tightly closed. She felt the sap spread over her body, warm and sticky, before suddenly hardening into a thin, hard shell. Once hardened, the sap felt restrictive on her scales and she immediately flexed, shaking as she did so, and
felt the sap crack and fall away.
“See, that wasn’t too bad,” Trakon said soothingly.
‘Thira just snorted. He hadn’t been covered in sap, after all. You did well, wizard. Thank you, she said graciously.
“You are very welcome, of course,” the old man said. “I guess now I understand why there are so many bones lying around. I thought the animals must have simply drunk the water, but now I’m not so sure.”
Are there more of them? Under the sand?
Trakon felt for the presence of more of the bugs hidden within the sand. He didn’t feel any in their immediate vicinity, but as he stretched his senses out further, he could feel them everywhere, surrounding them.
“Yes, ‘Thira,” he said, barely whispering now, as if the sound of his voice would bring them back. “There are many out there, surrounding us. The sand is full of them.”
We should be safe here, upon the glass. Until Dax returns, she said, curling up on the glass.
Trakon nodded absently. Now that he was aware of the creatures in the sand, he couldn’t be unaware. He settled himself on the glass and stared out over the sand, feeling the tiny lifeforms milling about and knowing it would take only the slightest disturbance to bring them swarming up again. He barely noticed when Sylas lay down beside him, putting his massive head in the old man’s lap.
Trakon absently scratched the dog’s ears while he stared out into the white nothingness surrounding them, listening to their captors hidden in the sand. He hoped Dax returned soon.
Chapter Eight
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.
~ Stephen King
Daxon soared over a sea of white sand. As far as he could see, nothing stirred, and not even a raven’s hoarse caw! broke the silence. In some ways it reminded him of the Myste with its desolate landscape, deathly silence, and the constant feeling of danger that permeated the air. Many times he had come close to turning back to his friends, but he kept going, knowing the best way to help them would be for him to find the other side of this wasteland and teleport them away from it.
It had been at least five hours since he left. He could no longer see the shore of the lake, just the white, sandy desert that surrounded it. He must be close to the edge of the desert, for it had been at least three hours since he had seen a glimpse of the lake, and according to Trakon, the desert didn’t stretch too far from the water’s edge. Of course, like everything in Darkenfel, that, too, could have changed.
Dusk was beginning to settle over the land when Dax finally saw the edge of the desert on the horizon. From his vantage point above, Dax could see the land sloped upward around a shallow depression that housed the sand of the desert he had just traversed. A small, fox-like creature was running along the ridge that separated the desert from what looked to be a field of grass and small, scraggly bushes. The reddish creature flushed out some sort of small rodent, although Dax couldn’t make out what it was from this distance, and a zig-zag race for survival ensued.
Coming closer, Dax was able to see it was a young prairie dog the fox was after, and just as he reached them, the little rodent lost its footing in the shifting sand along the ridge and tumbled over the edge. Immediately it began to run away from where the fox still stood atop the ridge, its feet kicking up small tufts of grit as it ran.
Dax expected the fox to follow the rodent into the depression. It would have been easy to catch; it wasn’t making very fast progress in the unstable sand. Instead, to his surprise, the fox turned away from its prospective meal and trotted away across the field. This odd behavior stirred curiosity in Dax as he continued to soar above, watching the prairie dog silently struggle to regain its footing and return to the ridge.
Suddenly the small beast emitted a high-pitched squeal and seemed to turn a ghastly white. It started at its feet, and moved upward until there was no trace of the brown fur remaining. Surprised, Dax flew closer, careful not to get too close, and with the last of the sun’s rays, he saw there were tiny, white insects swarming over the still living rodent. It writhed under the onslaught and opened its mouth once more to let out a shrill squeaking noise, but it was quickly cut off as the insect horde swarmed into its mouth. Horrified, Dax watched as the small creature was devoured within a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly the little animal’s skeletal paws continued to thrash a few seconds after the bugs disappeared back into the sand.
Fear for his friends ran down his spine like a cold waterfall. He had left them upon the white sand, which he now realized was full of tiny, carnivorous predators. He quickly reached out through his bond with ‘Thira and was reassured when he felt her presence.
‘Thira, is everyone ok? he asked her.
Yes, although I wouldn’t land on the sand if I were you, she responded. He could feel her disgust through their connection.
I am at the edge of the desert. I will find a place to camp, and then come get you all, he told her. He shared with her the image of the prairie dog’s fate. In return, she showed him what had transpired since he had been gone. He was grateful Trakon had identified the danger before the insects had a chance to swarm them. He laughed out loud when ‘Thira showed him an image of Trakon covering her with tree sap. He could feel her irritation at being covered with the sticky substance, but he understood the need.
Back soon, he said as he soared over the grassy plain looking for a place that would offer some shelter against the wind and any wild animals in the vicinity. They didn’t need any more surprises.
Miles away from Dax and the other members of the party, in the very center of the salt filled lake, was a small island shrouded from view by thick, yellowish-green vapors that arose from the surrounding water. Over the years many flying creatures had attempted to fly over the lake, misjudging the expansive length of it, only to fall from the sky, exhausted. They quickly succumbed to the poison surrounding them, their thirst so intense they drank from the waters and hurried the death already stalking them. Unlike the waters by the shore, these waters were filled with bodies in various states of decay, and most appeared to have been fed upon.
Many, many years ago, the lake had been home to a large colony of water nymphs that lived in harmony with a great population of mer-people. One of the nymphs fell in love with a merman, and even changed her own appearance to that of a mermaid so they could be together. The other nymphs protested at first, not out of spite, but because nymphs were not supposed to experience emotions like mortals, and they feared for her. Over time they forgot their fears as their sister and the merman lived in bliss, deeply in love, and no harm befell their beloved sister.
Centuries passed and the merman began to show signs of aging. Slight at first, it still bothered the nymph-turned-mermaid, and she approached her sisters and asked if they would grant her mate the gift of immortality. This was a serious request, for every year granted to the merman would take a year from some other creature, and the carefree nymphs did not want to take on such a heavy burden. Instead, they tried to reason with their sister, telling her stories about how much fun it would be once she could return to being a nymph and no longer had to pose as a mermaid. She would always have memories of her beloved mate, but she could once more return to her immortal, carefree life.
Unappeased, their sister left them to their twittering laughter. To this point, the only mortal emotion she had felt was love for the merman, but another mortal emotion crept into her heart at her sisters’ refusal; resentment. Unable to do anything without her sisters’ help, the nymph watched as her beloved mate continued to age, while she stayed young and beautiful, growing more bitter with each passing year. Finally, she sat with her husband on his deathbed, tears streaming down her face as she listened to him take his last breath, his once strong hand falling from her own.
Just as the last breath left his body, her sisters appeared, gently grasping her hand and coaxing her to come back to them. They were distraught over her tears, never having known s
adness or heartbreak, they did not know what to do. Unable to mollify their sister’s heartbreak, they eventually fled from her to escape the waves of despair emanating from their beloved sister.
The nymph-turned-mermaid was unable to stop her tears, and for many years she lived alone in a small underwater cave, mourning her lost love. After a century had passed, she began to remember the joy she had felt dancing on the water with her sisters, bathing in the waterfall, reveling in the sunlight that warmed her naked body. She yearned to return to that carefree life and tried to return to her nymph form. At first, her body didn’t respond, but at last she stirred the magic that had been long-dormant within her body, and tapped into it. She made another attempt to return to the nymph she had once been, and this time she succeeded in changing her appearance, but not as she intended.
Instead of the beautiful, blue-skinned, green-haired young nymph she had been, her magic transformed her body to match the bitterness she had felt all these years. She watched as the shimmering blue scales covering her mermaid tail were replaced with dull, grey skin, until her tail resembled that of a shark. The human part of her torso, once tan and healthy, now appeared pale and sickly. Her once proud, young breasts now began to sag and dry up, and her lustrous, green hair was shriveled and began to fall out until she was completely bald. Seeing her reflection in the water, she gasped to find that her beautiful white teeth had now become sharp as needles, and her eyes were dark and empty as the deepest pools.
The once-beautiful nymph was furious at her sisters, blaming them for what she had become, and furious they had denied her wish to forever live in love with her mate. Screaming in anger and despair, she left her cavern, determined that her sisters would pay, but when she emerged, they were nowhere to be found.
The Godling Staff: Book Three (Dragons of Daegonlot 3) Page 9