Into the Madness

by Richard H. Stephens

  He stopped suddenly, whipping his head toward the slope they had entered the cavern from. A noise sounded from beyond the chute.

  “Shh, did you hear that?” He unsheathed his sword, the action almost causing him to slip into the lake.

  Melody’s wide eyes confirmed she had. She whirled around, the light from her staff swinging behind her.

  The noise sounded again. Closer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t masking its approach.

  “The light! Turn it off.” Silurian edged farther away from the ramp, his free hand dragging Melody by one of her voluminous sleeves.

  Melody uttered a quick phrase that sounded like, ‘evanescetti,’ and the light diminished rapidly, leaving them in absolute darkness.

  Scrabbling noises descended the narrow chute accompanied by yowls and the sound of arcing electrical pulses.

  Silurian’s mind reeled. Whatever stalked them mustn’t require light. He frowned. He couldn’t see the nose on his face. He thought about Blindsight, a sailor aboard the Gerrymander. The man hadn’t required light to see either.

  The scrabbling rose in crescendo, so much so it had to be the result of more than one creature.

  Silurian froze. A series of splashes echoed. The sound of something thrashing in the lake approached them.

  “Mel, the light! Turn it on again, quick.”

  “Videtura!”

  The sudden brightness blinded them.

  Squinting past the glare, Silurian tried to push himself into the rock wall at his back—away from a dozen creatures with round heads the size of a man, all covered in scales and full of sharp teeth. Webbed feet propelled bodies no larger than a house cat across the top of the water so fast they seemed to glide across the surface.

  Silurian slipped on the slick ledge, almost landing on his back side. He caught himself with his free hand and faced an aquacat leaping out of the lake, taking it in the chest with the tip of his sword. It dropped squealing into the water beyond him.

  Melody’s staff discharged, incinerating the creature closest to her—maiming two more in its wake.

  Another one leapt at Silurian. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed two more scrambling onto the ledge beyond and bounding toward him. He jabbed at the airborne aquacat and kicked at the ones on the ledge. His boot struck the first creature with a resounding crack, but the second one’s wide mouth latched onto his shin.

  Two pulses from Melody’s staff rent the air and the flurry of activity dissipated—all except the gnashing creature making a meal of Silurian’s leg.

  He screamed and tried to pull it off, afraid to use his sword in case he cut himself.

  “What is it?” Melody’s staff increased in brightness.

  Despite the agonizing pain, Silurian held up a shaking hand. “No!”

  He barely had time to pull his hands out of the way as Melody whapped the creature across its spine with her staff—the impact driving Silurian’s leg out from beneath him.

  He landed hard on his rump and slid into the fathomless lake up to his waist before catching hold of her staff and arresting his fall.

  Melody braced herself, allowing him the purchase he needed to sit back on the shelf.

  He placed his back against the wall and held his injured shin in both hands, afraid to examine the damage. Removing his hands did little to ease his fear. The aquacat’s teeth had shredded his breeches below his left knee; blood darkened the suede material.

  “Ooh, that looks bad,” Melody said, holding the staff close to his leg.

  “Ya,” he said through clenched teeth. “It felt like it was gnawing on the bone.”

  Melody’s face scrunched up. “That’s not good.”

  She raised her staff and looked around; the chute they came down visible at the edge of its light. Between the chute and where they stood, a dozen bodies floated, bleeding and mangled, or burnt.

  A noise similar to the first wave of aquacats arose. Silurian stared at the base of the chute. From the increased sound of the scrabbling coming down the passageway they were about to face a bigger horde.

  “Help me to my feet.” He reached up and grasped Melody’s hand.

  They inched farther around the cavern—Silurian relying heavily on Melody to remain standing.

  His breath caught in his throat as the chute exploded with hundreds of aquacats, their numbers so great that several of the crazed animals bounded across the lake on the backs of their brethren.

  Silurian wrested himself from Melody’s grip and staggered—the lake seething beneath a wave of deranged aquacats.

  The light blurred from orange to an intense light blue as Melody chanted indecipherable words faster than Silurian could follow. Her emphasis on the last word was punctuated by a discharge of blue light.

  The concussion of the spell knocked them back against the cave wall. Silurian’s injured leg buckled beneath him and he pitched into the lake, screaming.

  His shoulder jarred against a solid surface just before his head whacked off a sheet of ice.

  The cacophony of enraged aquacats, partially frozen in the lake, resounded with deafening thunder.

  Silurian sat up as the light dimmed. Melody lay face down, her staff no longer in her grasp.

  “Mel! Get up.” He pulled himself across the ice, his nerves aware of how close the struggling creatures had come to reaching them.

  He grabbed the staff and slid against her. With much difficulty, he rolled her over and patted her cheeks, trying to ignore the fiery pain in his leg and red smear he left on the ice.

  In the dying light of Melody’s staff, he became aware of the movement of something more sinister than the aquacats within the cavern.

  Underneath the ice, a shadow detached itself from the inky depths and rose toward the surface.

  Silurian had no idea how big the rising leviathan was, but in the scant light piercing the water, its gaping maw appeared large enough to accommodate a horse.

  The aquacats’ clamour rose to a shriek. They too, sensed their impending doom.

  Olmar’s Tale

  Olmar wiped his brow. Sweat soaked his clothing and gnats buzzed around his head. Travelling to Ghost Island aboard the ships made more sense than riding around the southern coast of Zephyr on horseback, sweltering in the sun.

  “What’s the matter, Midge? You look like you jumped into a lake.” Sadyra trotted her horse past his and gave him an innocent smile. “Be good for your poor animal if you lost a few buckets.”

  Olmar pinched his brows together, too tired to respond.

  Pollard rode behind her, shaking his head as he came level with Olmar. “Don’t mind her. She’s bored.”

  Once past him, Pollard manoeuvred his horse alongside Sadyra and spoke to her under his breath. Olmar couldn’t make out their conversation, but knowing good old Pollard, he was lecturing her on curbing her tongue.

  Yesterday, they had slipped through the empty seaport of Ember Breath without incident. Fearing the Kraidic army might reach the southern port before them, they were relieved to see no sign of the barbaric army. It had been eerie clopping along the deserted streets.

  There were signs of people still inhabiting the city but no one showed themselves. Olmar put it down to thieves and their ilk remaining behind to pillage the abandoned buildings. Whoever they were, they were good at what they did. None of his companions were able to locate them. Not even Sadyra or Larina who he considered more feline than female.

  They travelled northwest along the Ocean Way toward Treacher’s Gorge. Even with the horses, they had many days ahead of them before they reached Gritian. Once the Ocean Way slipped into The Spine up near the Gulch, their pace would drop off dramatically.

  Olmar thought about their route. He’d never seen the Gulch before. He’d heard horror stories about the region but being a sailor for most of his life, he never had the occasion to venture far inland. He had no reason to. His only family sailed the high seas.

  “Whatcha thinking, Lunkhead?”

  Olmar wi
nced. If it wasn’t Sadyra poking fun at him, her best friend Larina was there to pick up the slack. He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Nothin’ really. Just be thinkin’ I miss me mates.”

  Larina appeared poised on the verge of saying something sarcastic, but she tilted her head. If Olmar didn’t know better, he would say a touch of compassion crossed her face. Her words nearly toppled him from his saddle. “Olmar, we’re your mates now.”

  He didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to genuine kindness directed his way. Sure, he had come to know the original members of Silurian’s quest to the Under Realm quite well, but he thought of them as companions brought together in a time of need.

  He gazed past Pollard and Sadyra to the back of Alhena’s white stubbled head. He smiled. Of all the people he had met on this bizarre journey, he’d come to love Pops the most. He was like the grandfather Olmar never had.

  His eyes misted up watching Sadyra’s hair bob beneath her slate grey archer’s cap. Dear Sadie, bless her mischievous heart, had endeared herself to him more than he dared admit.

  “What is it?” Larina’s voice carried real concern.

  He looked the other way. “Och, tis nothin’. Just bein’ sentimental like is all. Nothin’ to concern yerself with.”

  A silence settled between them until Larina asked, “When’s the last time you saw your real family?”

  He didn’t know what to say. Afraid to look her in the eye, he stared at his saddle pommel and spoke so quietly his last words were barely more than a croak. “I’ve never seen me real family.”

  “Say that again. You haven’t what?”

  He swallowed and chanced a glance at Larina. He wasn’t much good at getting close to people. A big, surly giant who struck fear and loathing into enemies and allies alike, but it seemed the archer with long brown hair and sweet voice truly worried about his feelings. A pair of tears slipped down his cheeks. “I never ‘ad a family.”

  He thought he noticed Larina’s eyes moistening so he looked away—ashamed he’d brought sadness to such a pretty face.

  “What do you mean, you never had a family? What happened to them?”

  He didn’t wish to speak any more on the subject. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. “It ain’t important.”

  Heeling his horse and clicking his tongue, he passed by Pollard and settled in behind Alhena who was deep in conversation with Rook.

  The path ahead narrowed to a single track. That suited him just fine. As he rode along in silence, he felt Larina’s eyes burning into his back.

  The sun fell behind the Spine looming up on their left. Pollard led them to a sheltered copse safely off the path—the Songsbirthian had obviously travelled this route before.

  Everyone pitched in to gather firewood and Alhena had it burning in short order with the aid of his staff.

  Olmar smiled to himself. Pops the wizard. What a great feeling it must be to conjure magic. If you needed fire, you simply said the right words and you made flames. If you needed light, just say a different word. Someone attacked? Burn them from afar. Olmar wished he had his own kind of special ability.

  As darkness settled over the land, he assessed the people chatting around the campfire from his perch atop a large boulder. Rook, a natural leader and good looking—in his estimation at least. Pollard, dashing and muscular, proficient with all sorts of weapons and a valued tracker. Pops, wise beyond his advanced years and blessed with words both magical and intellectual. Sadyra and Larina, both prettier than a bouquet of wild blossoms. Both more agile and deadlier than a mountain cat.

  He sighed. And then there was good ol’ Lunkhead. Dumb as a stump and uglier than a troll. The only thing he knew how to do was bash things.

  And steer Gerrymander. That put a smile on his face. Place a boat beneath his deformed legs, one that would bear his mountainous girth, and he was in his element. He didn’t need charts to navigate the oceans—he made them.

  Larina leaned in front of Pollard and whispered to Sadyra.

  Sadyra cast a quick glance his way and turned back to Larina. They got to their feet and came toward him. Immediately his senses heightened. Two of them at once meant trouble.

  Before he had a chance to slip off the boulder, Sadyra climbed up one side and Larina mounted the other. To his surprise, they plunked themselves down cross-legged facing him, each one grabbing a hold of an arm.

  He was aware of everyone else watching. Whatever the mischievous women were up to, Olmar fretted it would be at his expense.

  Sadyra’s dainty hands were barely large enough to cover the underside of his arm. “Rina tells me you’re not doing well. What’s the matter, Midge?”

  He grimaced. This had to do with his earlier conversation. He should have kept his mouth shut.

  “Out with it Olmar,” Larina pulled on his other arm. “We’re worried about you.”

  “Worried about me?” Why would anyone worry about him? He was big enough to hold his own against anyone who came at him. He was a man. He was supposed to deal with his problems on his own. “Bah, ‘tis nothin’ to concern yer pretty ‘eads over. Olmar’s a big boy.”

  As slim and demure as Sadyra appeared, her strength was incredible. She lifted his massive arm and hugged it to her chest, pulling herself to a kneeling position and brought her freckled face close to his. “Rina says you don’t have any family left, is that true?”

  Olmar swallowed, trying to pull away.

  Sadyra yanked on his arm, her slender fingers digging into his meaty biceps, forcing him to pay attention to her. “Well, is it?”

  Olmar faked a smile. What could he say to avert her attention? He knew the answer. Nothing. That’s what made Sadyra so endearing. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She had no inhibitions about speaking her mind and could be very persuasive if given the chance. If she asked someone a question, she expected an answer. An honest one.

  Larina’s soft voice broke the tension. “You told me you never had a family. What did you mean by that, exactly?”

  He was afraid to look toward the campfire. Alhena, Rook and Pollard had stopped what they were doing and watched on with interest. He hated being the centre of attention, but he knew the women wouldn’t leave him alone until he satisfied their curiosity.

  “Just like I says to ya. I never knew me kin. I was abandoned on a beach as soon as I were borned.”

  Sadyra’s face scrunched up. “Abandoned? Why?”

  He smirked at that. “Seriously? Look at me. If’n ya think I’m hard to look on now, ya shoulda seen me growin’ up. I weren’t pretty, I assure ya o’ that. The locals made sure to let me know.”

  Sadyra ran her fingers along his face in a way no one had ever done before—lovingly. He blushed.

  “Why would anyone think that?” Sadyra asked, her voice sincere. “You’re a big, cuddly bear.”

  He shrugged, the movement almost throwing the women from the rock.

  Larina removed his worn leather sailor’s cap and leaned back, her eyes searching his face.

  He smiled shyly, unable to meet her stare. “See? Ain’t much to be lookin’ at.”

  “You were abandoned because your parents didn’t like how you looked?” Larina sounded indignant. “You were just born. I’m sure I looked pretty awful when I popped out, myself.”

  “Och, Rina. I cannae imagine you anythin’ but pretty.”

  “There must be more to it than that.” Sadyra ruffled the damp strands of matted red-grey hair threatening to cover the top of his head. “People don’t just leave a baby to die.”

  He sighed. There was no putting them off. The sooner he told them, the sooner they’d stop making a scene and leave him be. “Me mam were spoilt by an invadin’ Kraidic army.”

  Larina nodded. “That explains your size. I guess that might explain why you were abandoned, too. You probably reminded her of the man who violated her.” She glanced at Sadyra. “I can’t say for certain how I’d feel. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t forsake my baby, but
I guess that’s just me. You’d still be half of me, if not more.”

  Olmar swallowed. “Me thinks it’s more like she didnae ‘ave time to worry about a babe. She ‘ad more important things to tend.”

  “What could be more important than one’s babe?” Larina frowned.

  Olmar felt his cheeks redden further. He fought the urge to shake their grip and storm away. There was no use. They’d just hound him again later.

  “Me mam weren’t what ye’d call yer typical mam. She ‘ad a soft spot for the men that came a-callin’. She made ‘er livin’ that way. I was takin’ in by the Father Cloth an’ lived in an orphanage until I was a wee lad.”

  Sadyra spit out a laugh.

  Olmar and Larina cast her an odd look.

  “Sorry Midge. I didn’t mean to laugh. I can’t imagine you ever being wee.”

  Her explanation did little to mollify Larina’s glare but Olmar smiled. “Aye. As wee as one can be when they are born this way. Anyway, the village folk always made sport o’ me. You may ‘ave noticed I ain’t smart like most o’ ye. I don’t speak well, I can nary read a lick and ain’t good with me sums. The kids at the orphanage took great pleasure in teasin’ an’ playin’ pranks on the ‘big dummy’.”

  A look passed between the two women.

  Larina rose to her knees and replaced his cap, adjusting it just so. “Oh, Olmar. You’re smarter than most people I know. Fancy words and fine clothes don’t weigh on a person’s character.” She brought her hands together above her heart. “It’s what’s in here that defines a person. From the short time we’ve been together, I can honestly say I’ve come across few people as intelligent and upstanding as you. Your actions speak volumes. If people were half as genuine as you, my friend, our world would be a better place.”

  “Half as genuine as a lunkhead?” He looked up from beneath heavy brows.

  “Oh, Olmar. I’m so sorry. Sadie and I are just having fun with…” Larina’s eyes brimmed with tears. She released his arm and looked away.