Chapter 2
Roland lined his sights on the shaman, but before he could squeeze the trigger, a flash of green and yellow scales barreled out of the jungle. The sound of breaking tree limbs warned of the threat before his peripherals. Roland spun in time to shove the dwarf out of the club's deadly arc. The blow caught him under his ribs and took him off his feet. Sharp rocks bit into him as he rolled onto his back and raised his weapon. Too close to waste time aiming, he fired and sent a bullet through his assailant's chest. The lizardman fell dead, red blood oozed out from green scales as its yellow sail-fins twitched.
Roland jumped to his feet. The pain in his side threatened to fell him, but he caught the dwarf's shoulder. Half bracing and half pushing her to retreat. More lizardmen erupted from the tree line, hollering as they hurled their spears and beat their clubs against shields of large turtle shells. He spurred her on, ducking spears as he returned fire. Two more fell to his marksmanship. Cracked shields lay beside their lifeless owners. The recoil sent jolts of pain into his side, causing him to pull a shot and graze a charging lizardman. The reptile charged on, bringing its club down in a fatal arc. Before the club could brain him, the lizardman was slammed prone and died under Gwyn's galloping hooves. Relief filled Roland as Gwyn entered the fray. He only caught a glimpse at her, but he knew she was smiling.
Protected by plate and empowered by the magic of her strange god, Gwyn sang her terrible prayer as she descended on her foes. Reveling in every bone that broke under her hooves and every fatal spear thrust she delivered. Five of the scaled foes stood between her and their mage. With a mighty gallop she hurled her spear at the shaman and drew her arming sword. A strange glyph of purple light stopped her spear inches from the shaman's chest, but she'd turned her attention to more immediate threats. They surrounded her, but that only added to her excitement. She didn't bother to parry. Her armor was thick and the joy of battle was upon her. She traded blow for blow, capitalizing on their eagerness. Armor and shield deflected their clubs, but her sword chopped deep into scaly flesh. She twirled and bucked, fighting in a bloody spiral of ringing steel and kicking hooves.
Between the five of them, they added many new dents to her armor, an accomplishment that cost them their lives. Even when surrounded, she pressed the attack. Never leaving enough time for them to use their greatest advantage. For all their numbers, they might as well have been fighting her alone. One by one they fell to her wrath. The last lizardman seized an opening when her sword got stuck in his ally. Swinging with both hands, his club crashed against her helmet. Nearly knocking it off and leaving a nasty dent in the side. Impressive as the blow was, it didn't stop her strike that was already in motion. Both combatants staggered as their blows landed simultaneously. Gwyn's legs wobbled and threatened to collapse. The lizardman's head struck the ground a moment before his limp body.
Dazed and reeling, she adjusted her helmet, taking a moment for her double vision to subside. Then, with a deafening ring in her ears, she steeled herself and charged the unguarded mage.
The black scaled shaman reached into a writhing bag at his side and drew a squirming centipede, as long as his forearm. He hurled the creature onto the ground, speared it through with the end of his staff, and shouted in his strange bellowing tongue. The staff glowed and the thrashing bug beneath gave one final death curl before popping into yellow paste that quickly melted into the earth. From under the staff, the ground shifted. The stony shore disappeared as a vines covered in three-inch-long thorns spiraled out of the earth towards her. She tried to slow but the thorns sprouted from beneath her, stabbing her from all sides and in her scarcely protected legs. Too high to jump over, she stopped. Hooves skidded on the gravely shore as she slammed into the stabbing thicket that sprang up and surrounded her. Frustrated sword strokes fell upon the thorny vines, but their springy nature absorbed most of the blows with little damage. Enraged eyes looked ahead and widened.
The shaman bit a centipede in half and squeezed its entrails along his staff while chanting some incantation. It glowed as he leveled it at her. She braced behind her shield, but no arcane bolts or fire erupted from his focus, only the smell of burning fabric stung her nostrils. She looked down to see her cuirass glowing white hot. Then the pain engulfed her. Smoke from her gambeson choked her lungs and blinded her with tears. In one final act of clarity, she threw her shield onto the thicket and used it as a bridge to escape. The blood boiling in her torso overcame the pain of hundreds of thorns ripping at her flesh as she ran through the wall of shredding needles. Sword raised, she galloped madly at the mage. Chocking out a defiant battle cry, her blade ignited with a pure white flame that spiraled heavenward. The shaman's staff waivered as it took a step back.
She willed herself forward. The pain growing as her insides boiled. Her gallop wobbled and her tear-blurred vision grew narrow then dark as she fell upon him. The sword's brilliant flame disappearing as it slipped from her hand. She collapsed. Too agonized to even feel her impact. A desperate gauntlet, reached for her spear laying at the shaman's taloned feet.
The sound of Roland's rifle echoed faintly behind her and the heat radiating off her cuirass vanished. The last thing she saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the shaman reeling back, clasping his bloody shoulder.
Roland saw the glyph crack as his bullet pierced the weakening barrier, turning his would-be fatal shot into a winging blow. That was all he could do for her now. Grumbling curses at Gwyn for running off by herself, he loaded his rifle and turned back to his pressing assailants.
Thankfully, Lord Atticus was every bit the swordsman he'd been rumored to be. Rapier in one hand and his brilliant blue cape draped in the other, he was masterful at misdirection. A blinding wall of fabric flared before a lethal thrust of his blade sank into their hearts. The wolf fought besides them, baiting out attacks and creating openings for Atticus' blade to sneak through. Even in the thick of combat, Marlow perplexed him. He fought like no wolf Roland had ever seen. When Marlow pounced and pinned his victims, he didn't tear at their throat. The wolf only ever used his great jaws for wrestling weapons out of enemy hands. Argos had fought well for having nearly drowned a moment ago, but he was the first to fall under brutal clubs. Wallace worked some of his healing magic on Argos, the dwarf woman by his side.
Roland hung back with Wallace, a last line of defense when the lizardmen slipped by Atticus and the wolf. Quick sidelong glances told him the mage's whereabouts. The shaman stepped over Gwyn and calmly strode towards the party, a dying centipede helped him prepare another spell.
Roland fired, and a charging lizardman dropped at his feet. He cursed while reloading, too late to interrupt the mage as it raised its staff towards the other two. In an instant, the ground beneath Atticus and Marlow's feet sprouted thick vines that lashed out at the unsuspecting duo, entangling the pair in constricting foliage.
The wolf took the worst of the ensuing beating, but Atticus, even deprived of his mobility managed to parry against the four remaining lizardmen. Suddenly, the ground sprouted vines again, but this time, they lashed onto the lizardmen, bringing an awkward halt to the fight. Roland turned to see Wallace holding his glowing staff above his head, a verdant green aura illuminating the halfling in the darkness of oncoming storm clouds.
The distraction allowed for Marlow to bite and wrench himself free. Then the wolf caught Atticus by the back of his leather armor, and much to the nobles' displeasure, shook him free of the gripping tendrils. Wallace and the shaman locked eyes from across the beach. Droplets of rain speckled the rocky shore as storm clouds rolled in
"Can you beat him?" Roland asked.
"Not alone. His connection to this jungle is far greater than mine, and I used much of my magic healing Argos."
"Any suggestions?"
"I'll try and get through his protection glyph. If I do, put him down fast. If our plan works, maybe we have a chance."
"Our plan?"
Wallace whistled, then shouted, "Marlow!"
The wolf, who'd just finished helping Atticus dispatch the remaining lizardmen, looked over the situation, nodded to Wallace, then disappeared into the jungle.
"Find cover," Wallace said, looking up at the thundering clouds, "What a good day for rain."
Roland nodded and ran to help Argos. He threw the barely conscious dwarf's arm over his shoulder and heaved him to his feet. Their height difference forced his back into an awkward angle. The other dwarf took Argos under the arm and lightened Roland's burden. Atticus ran to their side, sword drawn. He covered them as they made for the tree line.
Atticus pointed with his rapier. "The path is this way."
"I'm not leaving without Gwyn."
"The horse woman is dead."
"She's survived worse."
"There is nothing we can do for her."
Hearing the obstinacy in the noble's voice, Roland didn't argue.
"Take the dwarfs back to the boat. See that she gets to the captain and he can decide the next course. If we're not back in a day..."
He handed Argos off to Lord Atticus, who shifted uncomfortably under the weight. Seeing the trio hobble away to relative safety, Roland turned and skulked back toward the fight. A large decaying log just inside the tree line made for a well-hidden piece of cover. He laid down, cocked the hammer back, and trained his sights on the shaman.
The two druids slowly marched towards one another until there was nothing between them but sixty feet of red stone shore. Their energies filled the air with a static friction, repelling one another despite being of the same kind. A quick glance up told Wallace the clouds weren't ready. He frowned then steeled himself.
His opponent struck first. Crushing a large beetle under staff, spiked vines exploded from the ground. Wallace dove before the thicket could entrap him. The spikes gifting his leg a deep cut on his way out. He hit the ground with a thud and slapped his palm into the soil. Clenching his fist in the dirt, he spoke in nature's tongue and five grasping vines sprang up around the shaman. With animalistic speed, the mage dodged the tendrils, dashing closer to the shore's edge. A wriggling centipede crunched between the shaman's jaws and its life was spent to conjure a bolt of slithering wildfire.
Wallace summoned his own thicket, but the thorny barrier erupted into a bonfire with such force, he was thrown onto his back, the wind nearly knocked out of him. With a groan, he checked to see if his eyebrows were still there, and stared up at the dark sky. The clouds still weren't ready, but he would have to try. Sitting up, he willed his spell to fail. The thicket withered and its roots surrendered their grasp. He was no match for the scaled druid, who's dark will closer matched the jungle's own spirit, and thus wielded its power more freely. While this jungle looked upon Wallace with apathy, nature was far more than earth and trees. Wallace called upon his greatest domain and it answered with a far-off crack of thunder. His green light brightened to a brilliant blue as he rose, swinging his staff at the burning thicket. A powerful gust of wind hurled the massive flaming tumbleweed at his assailant. Wallace curved its trajectory, making it easier for the shaman to sidestep. Clawed feet splashed as they found purchase in the ankle-deep water and the shaman raised its staff for another spell.
Before the arcane power could manifest, the lizardman's peripherals warned of sidelong danger. The burning crackles of the thicket masked the sound of sprinting and the black smoke hid the wolf's approach too well. Marlow slammed into the shaman. His teeth clamped around the staff.
With a large splash, the dark druid fell backwards into the shallow water. The wolf leapt away, managing an insulting kick to its face as he ran off, its staff in his jaws. A sharp crack echoed over the water, but it wasn't any thunder. Roland took his shot, but the bullet, while narrowly breaking through the glyph, lost most of its energy and only managed to break its skull mask in half. It reeled back with a hiss and grasped a bone medallion hanging off its harness. with a finger soaked in its own blood, the shaman smeared crimson over the amulet. The cracks in the glyph sealed as it grew brighter.
Wallace wasn't surprised. He'd didn't think the arcane shield had come from the staff. Its nature seemed too different from the power the lizardman drew upon. But, that was the very reason he'd spent all his effort getting his foe into the water.
Wallace whispered the final word of the incantation, letting his sharp breath carry his power high into the heavens. His energy, insignificant compared to the infinite sky, sought not to control, but guide some of that immeasurable power. The great friction stirring in the clouds burst forth with a deafening boom that shook the earth and sent a bolt of pure white lightning, guided by Wallace's suggestion, onto the shaman. The purple light from the protective glyph was swallowed by the brilliance of the lightning. And while it successfully deflected the bolt, it cast the energy into the river, killing the dark druid instantly.
Seeing the crumpled corpse of the druid face-down and smoking in the water, Roland rushed to Gwyn. Slinging his gun over his back and digging through his pack for his small medicine kit, knowing well he would need more than a needle and thread to cure her wound. Gently taking her helmet off he swept her messy brown hair out of the way and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Her armor was cool to the touch now, but her crimson gambeson trapped the heat against her body.
He reached for his canteen, forgetting he'd given it to the dwarf woman. Grunting, he quickly emptied his pack onto the shore and waded into the river, not far, but enough to dunk his empty pack beneath water. He scanned the river, dark clouds and rain could hide any number of malevolent things beneath that ever-shifting surface. Roland wasn't in a moment longer than he needed to be. Hoisting his water filled sack, he backed away, still eying the river until he was certain he was out of reach of whatever strange hands might grab for him.
Slowly, her poured the water over her. She stirred as the cooling liquid soaked into her gambeson. Wallace, leaning heavily on Marlow, approached. The halfling reached up onto Marlow's harness and dug through his pack, producing a large roll of dried herbs and bottled medicines. The wolf did his best to block the rain as his maser worked on the centaur. Water trailed off Roland's hat as the wide brim sagged under heavy droplets and for the next half hour, the two worked in relative silence.
The wolf whimpered and Wallace scratched under his chin, "Maybe so. But of the two of us, I imagine I'll be easier to carry. Marlow shifted as Wallace smeared a brown paste over the worst of Gwyn's wounds. Whispered incantations brought a faint glow to it as mossy green bandages spread across her skin. Wallace's head bobbed as he struggled through the spell, his eyes drooping with every syllable. When he collapsed, Marlow caught him by the collar and gently laid him on the ground, still doing his best to shield his master from the growing downpour.
A hoof twitched and Gwyn's weary eyes looked up into his.
"Roland?"
"Don't act so surprised. This isn't the first time I've come back for you or Argos."
Her features turned Quizzical, "I'm not surprised you came back. I'm surprised you survived."
He grabbed her spear, tested its weight, then handed it to her. Slowly, she rolled over, and one by one kicked a shaky leg beneath her. She leaned on the spear, breathing heavily as rain tinged off her plate.
"I sent Atticus back with the dwarfs. We need to catch up to him and regroup at the boat. I don't expect you to run but we need to move."
She picked up her helmet and nodded, inspecting the large dent, "What happened after I fell?"
"We all nearly died."
"What of the mage?"
"Our unconscious friend down there, matched him spell for spell. Eventually besting him with an exquisite mastery of nature magic. I'm sure you would have enjoyed the show... The mage fell just over-"
Roland froze as he pointed to where he'd seen the body fall. It was gone, swallowed by the black river.
"We need to leave. Now."
Marlow whimpered and pawed at his master while gesturing Roland to his harness. Roland wasted no time slinging the halfling over the wolf's back and securing him. He retrieved Gwyn's sword and shield, only stopping long enough to toss some of his equipment into his waterlogged pack, leaving many belongings scattered on the bank.
Back into the jungle they went. Roland easily found the trail, even in the fading light. Marlow followed close behind him, concern obvious even in his inhuman eyes. Although weakened, Gwyn kept up a good pace. Her helmet swung at her belt, looped on by the chin strap buckle. The trees offered little protection from the rain and added to the cloud's darkness, but they weren't on the trail long before Roland's heart sank. The unkempt trail was clear to Roland, but sediment carried by rain washout created the illusion of a fork in the road. While most of the footprints were washed away, the spongy white sapwood of a freshly cut young branch stood out in the dark jungle and told a terrible tale to him. He muttered a curse and investigated. Further into the jungle he saw more slashed foliage and sighed.
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"What is it?" Gwyn asked.
"They're lost."
A swipe from his rapier felled a leafy vine and revealed the way back to the trail. He hadn't felt this relieved since nearly a half hour before, when ridding himself of Argos. He'd charged the female dwarf with carrying their injured. Arguing that he needed to be unburdened if he were to protect them from any of the jungle's many dangers. He walked a little taller, striding back onto the trail, his pace quickened by the failing light.
He gestured to the dwarfs, "I told you we weren't lost. Keep up. We haven't much light left."
Their only responses came in deep breaths and the occasional groan. Argos had found a branch to lean on and started walking on his own not long after they found the trail again. They trudged onward, deeper into the jungle's black maw. Atticus' boot thumped on a peculiar stone. This one was rounded by centuries of weathering, but had obviously been square once.
The dwarf woman noticed and cursed, "We've gone the wrong way. Back there, when we got off the trail. I should have known. The river is little more than an axe toss through those trees over there. I couldn't hear the it in this blasted thunderstorm. We're almost at the shrine"
Atticus' chest deflated, "And you didn't notify me sooner? Haven't you been here for some time?"
"The jungle is an easy place to get lost in, and it's dark-"
"Forget it. Does this 'shrine' have a roof? It's too dark to keep moving, and this storm has me soaked to the bone."
"Assuming it's not occupied, we might be able to take shelter there."
"Assuming?"
"It's sacred to the lizardmen, now. I don't know what, other than stone, could await us in there."
"I'll risk all the lizardmen in this cursed jungle if it means the chance to warm myself by a fire."
Argos offered his gourd, "A swig of this will warm you as much as any fire."
Atticus rolled his eyes and continued onward.
The mud path worn into the forest floor rose into a trail of uneven red stone. If not for the trail leading straight into the mouth of the shrine, he might have missed it in the blackness of arriving night. Great trees melted into the stone walls, obscuring its domed shape with upward snaking branches. A heavy layer of green moss and wide purple-red leaves added another layer of natural camouflage to the ancient structure. Atticus ducked out of rain and the two dwarfs followed through the wide arched entrance. Argos leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, popping the cork on his gourd and taking a swallow. The dwarf woman stood at his side, nervously peering into the shrine's dark void.
Atticus produced a leather case from his pack and opened the waxed envelope. A pungent stench waifed in the stagnate air as he pulled out a thin wire and one of many an oil-soaked cloths. Using the wire, he secured the cloth to Argos' walking stick and after several strikes from his flint, the torch flickered to life.
Harsh yellow-orange flame lapped away darkness, revealing a large round room held up by six stone columns and a dark obelisk at their center. A hole, eight feet across, opened in the ceiling over the obelisk. Dark rain poured over the stone spire, like blood gushing from an artery onto the blade that severed it.
A glimmer of something more than water pulled his attention to the obelisk. He strode forward, letting his torch illuminate more of the room. Behind the curtain of rain, carved into the obelisk's face was what seemed to be the same creature depicted on the marker that rose ominously out of the river. This time, the beast was carved in a stylized circle. Dog or primate, Atticus couldn't tell, but he raised an eyebrow at the five fingered hand on the end of its long tail. That only held his attention for a moment as the idol's forearm suffered a deep impression where something ornate might have once been, and above that was the source of the glimmer that originally pulled his attention. In the idol's eye was the largest diamond he'd ever seen.
"Do you think it's a trap?" Gwyn asked, staring at the small yellow flame flickering at them from inside the shrine's stone throat.
Roland chuckled, "I doubt it, but just in case, you can go first-"
Gwyn nudged him out from behind the tree. He staggered and caught himself as the slick mud turned to firm stone beneath his boots. Still smiling, he cautiously approached the shrine, lowering his rifle at the sight of a sleeping Argos laying propped up against the entrance, snoring loud enough to cover the approach of anything that didn't want to be heard. The short hall opened into a larger room with a weak fire that painted two downcast figures in sickly yellows and deep shadows. Roland scooped up Argos' gourd and bravely took a sip of the stomach twisting beverage. He managed to keep it down and already felt its warming effect as he dropped it in the sleeping dwarf's lap. Argos didn't stir.
Roland strode down the hall to find Atticus and the dwarf woman sharing a pitiful fire of whatever twigs and dry moss they could find in the ancient chamber. Roland made it a step passed Argos when Lord Atticus spotted him. The Lord had to double-take before jumping to his feet, hand on his rapier. The dwarf woman let out a sharp gasp that turned into a sigh of relief.
"Pardon me," Roland removed his dripping hat with a slight bow and flecked the water off his bald head, "But I thought we agreed to head back to the boat?"
Atticus chuckled, "You got lost as well?"
"No. Me and the wolf have been tracking you."
Atticus looked into the raging storm beyond, "Impressive."
"Hardly. The rain washed away your scent and most of your tracks. If it wasn't for your insistence on hacking every piece of foliage out of your way, we never would have found you."
"I'm glad you picked up on the trail I blazed for you."
"Me and potentially every lizardman in this jungle."
"Do we need to move?"
"Half of us are in no condition to, especially in this weather. We'll rest here for the night and hope the storm passes. Then, in the morning, we'll head back."
"And if the storm doesn't pass?"
"We need rest, but that doesn't mean we have to be dry. Anything tracking us will have a hard time in this storm, but we shouldn't push our luck and stay here longer than necessary."
The clopping of hooves and the clank of plate mail echoed down the hall and filled the room as Gwyn lead Wallace and Marlow in from the rain. She took two hardy gulps from Argos' gourd, grimaced, then joined the others by the pitiful fire. When it was decided they would stay here for the night and who would take watch, ringing steel echoed though the ruins as Gwyn shed her armor where she stood. The racket was enough to even wake Argos who was ecstatic to see she had survived.
Reunited, the party shared their stories over what little food they still had, feeding what was left to the dwindling fire. Marlow nudged his master awake and didn't stop until the halfling ate something. As soon as he did, the two laid down, Wallace using the wolf as a foul-smelling pillow.
Roland lit a torch and studied his surroundings. First by walking along the walls, he checked for windows, but didn't see any, except for the porthole in the ceiling that let rainwater bathe the strange obelisk in the center of the room. The walls had been roughly cleaned by the antiquarians. Moss scrubbed away to reveal some ancient lettering and hieroglyphs Roland didn't recognize. His ever-tightening spiral brought him before the great rain-drenched obelisk. Reaching through the shower, he ran a finger around the carving of the odd creature, stopping on the hand that ended its long tail.
"Ahuizotl," whispered the dwarf woman.
The party grew silent, unused to hearing her speak. Roland's hand hovered over the carving's diamond eye before tracing its back, wondering if the protrusion was supposed to be a mane or possibly a fin.
"Is that this creature's name?"
"One of them, but he goes by many. The god with three hands, hound of thorns, and the drowning god are the most common ones we were able to translate."
"I beg your pardon for my rudeness, but I find myself in the possession of several useless names for a monster, and it only now occurs to me; I've neglected to ask yours."
Something almost like a smile crossed her lips, "Tabitha Inksmith."
Roland knelt beside her, "Tell me, lady Inksmith, what happened here?"
That almost smile faded and her eyes drifted lifelessly to the fire.
"At first, the lizardmen weren't hostile. They were as curious about us as we were about them, but then we found this place... They tried shooing us away, but once we entered, that's when thing started to deteriorate."
Atticus rubbed the scar across his face, "That usually happens when you intrude on a primitive culture's sacred sites."
"It wasn't sacred until recently. When we first arrived, it was cursed."
Gwyn set her helmet aside, giving Tabitha her full attention, "What changed?"
She pointed to the carving's forearm. Something was missing and it left a deep, intricate impression, like half of a mold. "Professor Whitestone, our leader, removed the bracer to catalog it and translate the inscriptions on the band. Him and his assistant went missing that day. The day after that, the lizardmen came to warn us about the return of the drowning god. We suspected murder from the lizardmen, but they could have easily killed us all if they wanted, so instead we decided to search for our missing. We lost two to that damned hand trick. Not long after, the shamans convinced them to sacrifice to their new god, and they started with us. They captured us and brought us to a sunken temple to offer sacrifice. Two have already been claimed. I didn't see the ceremony, but I can still hear their screams echoing in those halls."
Atticus gestured to the obelisk, "Why didn't you take the diamond?"
She blinked wondering if he'd heard her story, "The eye of Ahuizotl? It's of no academic significance. There were inscriptions on the bracer, some we believe relevant to the story told on these walls, but the eye is just a gemstone."
"What story do these walls tell?" Roland asked.
"They tell of Ahuizotl and something of the times before. They tell of a people ruled by serpents-"
Argos scratched his head, "The lizardmen?"
"We thought so at first too, but there are distinctions between them in the text and the hieroglyphs depict a man-like people. The men under the serpents built these ruins any number of untold centuries ago, but they tell of a murderous spirit who brought darkness to the river. They cried out to their god, some kind of storm deity, responsible for rain we believe, and the great 'sky' or perhaps 'feathered' serpent god imprisoned the evil water spirit with a magic 'shackle' or something like a 'ring', forever binding its essence to this stretch of the river."
Marlow's ears sprang up, and he roughly nuzzled his exhausted master. Half-asleep, Wallace swatted the muzzle away until finally conceding Marlow wasn't going to stop.
The halfling grumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, "W-what?"
Marlow let out a rumbling growl topped with a quick huff.
"Ring?" Wallace straitened and turned to Tabitha, "What's this business about a ring?"
Tabitha shifted under the wolf's desperate gaze, "It's hard to translate exactly, but the legend tells of a circlet of sorts, possibly a ring, given the context I'm more inclined to believe it's a shackle, but that's just my opinion. Anyway, the circlet binds Ahuizotl's spirit to this stretch of the river."
"Is it said to have any... transformative properties?"
"I'm familiar with the local folktale of a magic ring hidden deep in some long-forgotten part of the jungle. A ring said to be able to turn one thing into another. If there is such a ring, its most likely started as Ahuizotl's bind and changed over the centuries until its original meaning was lost to all but these walls. Assuming these are the same rings, there isn't anything in the legend that suggest it can turn lead into gold if that's what you're asking."
"Not exactly," Wallace frowned, "but thank you."
Marlow's ears sank and his yellow eyes glazed over as he settled back down. The halfling stroked the wolf's head and whispered encouragements while Tabitha continued.
"During the last ceremony, the others managed to pull the bars apart just enough for me to get through. I ran. I ran until I heard that thing's cry for help. I knew it wasn't for me, so I rushed to try and warn whoever it was for."
Argos smiled, "And had I not been so hard of hearing, I might not have inhaled half the river." He raised his gourd, "Thank you, Tabitha, that was awful brave of you to come to my rescue like that."
Argos reached into his robe and presented her with the bottle of dwarf mead he found back at camp. Tabitha's eyes brightened and she ripped off the cork, hurriedly downing the dark liquid.
She wiped her mouth on a dirty arm, "The rest of my team? Are you going to rescue them?"
"We're going to try," Roland assured her, "But you're in no condition to aid us, and half of us are in no condition to fight. Tomorrow, we'll head back to the boat, get you to safety, regroup, and, with your help, plan a method of extraction."
"The longer we wait, the more likely they'll-"
"I know, but if we try anything now, we'll be at a severe disadvantage."
She gazed into the fire, looking as if she wanted to disagree, but instead, she simply took another drink. Argos joined her and soon the conversation died and all the others rested besides the dim fire, leaving Roland and Marlow to stand watch at the mouth of the shrine.
The night bore on, growing darker and louder with the worsening of the thunderstorm.
"So," Roland met the wolf's oddly thoughtful eyes, "why does a wolf care for mythic jewelry?"
The intelligence behind Marlow's eyes faded with a canine grin as he raised his wagging tail.
Roland smirked, "You're overplaying your part, Marlow. Wolves don't wag their tails like that."
Marlow froze, yellow eyes darted back and forth, wondering if that was true. By the time he realized it was, he knew his expression had given him away.
The next day, the storm calmed, but heavy rain turned the brilliant morning sky into a luminous murk. While no one was excited about traveling through rain, everyone looked forward to get back to the relative comfort of the boat. All except Atticus, who was the last one out of the shrine. Roland went back in to retrieve him, but as he did, the Lord appeared from deep in the chamber mumbling about forgetting his pack. They set off and quickly found another reason to stop. Not far outside the shine, laying face-down in the road was the dark corpse of the shaman.
Gwyn crept up and thrust her spear into its spine. Twisting the blade, the vertebrae separated with a meaty pop. Several eyebrows raised.
"What?" Gwyn shrugged, "Just being thorough."
satisfied by its lack of movement, she flipped it over to find bloody, eyeless sockets starring back. Its pale gums were smashed to gory pulps, like its teeth had been removed with a hammer. Tabitha cried in shock.
"It's here! It was right here!" she spun. Frantic eyes searched her surroundings.
"What was here?" Gwyn asked.
Roland leaned down to discover not only the eyes and teeth missing, but the claws too.
"Ahuizotl," Tabitha sputtered, "We fished Jorgan and Dimir out of the river like this... It eats the eyes and teeth and fingernails."
All night Roland had kept watch, and not once did he or the wolf sense anything. The drowning god was stealthy, that was no surprise, many animals he'd tracked were. But what made him uneasy about the corpse wasn't the skill required in placing it there, but the reason. A chill ran down Roland's spine. Predators, he could learn, predict, but this wasn't animalistic behavior brought about by some kind of instinct, this was malevolent. This was a taunt.
For the rest of the morning and early into the afternoon, they trekked through the jungle, their pace slowed by exhaustion, rain, and caution. Gwyn wasn't the only one keeping a sharp eye out. The party moved with the steady speed of those expecting an ambush at every turn. And when none came, the sight of the camp filled them with dreadful anticipation. Argos volunteered to check it out and after he gave the clear, the rest followed. It wasn't long before a crewman spotted them on the shore and a dingy was set out to fetch them.
A large red yurt sat atop the galley. Smoke billowed from its peak, mixing with the dark clouds and rain. Kopa was the first to welcome them into captain's temporary quarters. An iron stove brought a much-needed warmth to the tent and the party welcomed its dry relief. The captain rushed to Tabitha's side and guided her to his pillow on the carpeted floor. He greeted them and beg them all sit. Roland collapsed into the nearest pillow and his party did the same.
The captain had food brought for them and they relayed their story of lizardmen and river gods over fresh caught fish and spiced wine. Their outer garments, they hung over the stove and let its heat do its work. After their meal, they slept for an hour or so, waiting on their clothes to dry.
When they awoke, the rain had subsided, but the storm clouds lingered, threatening the jungle with more torrential downpours. Fresh and reinvigorated, Gwyn fished out a piece of charred wood from the stove and called for parchment. The captain had it brought to her, and they spent the rest of the day having Tabitha draw the path to the sunken ruins, the lizardman's camp, and where they might find the rest of the dwarfs. When all was said and done, they decided a small infiltration would be their best bet. Assuming the lizardmen were expecting them, Roland, Atticus, and Marlow would try and stealthily free the dwarfs, but if something went awry, Roland's rifle would sound for reinforcements.
It took some convincing for Wallace to agree to separate with Marlow. But Roland argued the wolf's low profile, sense of smell, and hearing would be invaluable assets when sleuthing about. Wallace didn't like it but eventually relented, even offering to prepare a spell that might conceal their tracks well enough to give them a good head start back, assuming they weren't seen. With that, it was decided and all that was left to do was get a night's rest before setting out tomorrow.
When Atticus finally escaped the absurd war council, he stowed away behind the yurt, sitting by the helm and hidden from view. There were several crewmen keeping watch on deck, one found his hiding place but was dismissed with a friendly smile and wave. The boy, Kopa could be heard playing with the wolf while the captain and Wallace drew pipes and had a contest of who could blow the biggest smoke ring. With Tabitha and the others sleeping below, he reached into his pocket and took out the eye of Ahuizotl.
The pallid moonlight lent an eerie glow to the jewel. Warmth spread across his fingers as he held it, and a black dot appeared in its center. He studied the phenomenon, wondering if it was a trick of the light. Soon the black dot expanded. Larger it grew until it overtook the diamond. Atticus tried to look away, but through forces beyond him, his eyes remained fixed until the growing blackness swallowed his vision.
Black turned to green murk as his vision cleared. A vague sensation of speed and the passing of free-floating debris told him he was moving forward. Hearing was muffled and distant. He tried to look around, but there wasn't even a suggestion of influence on his strange vision. The view shifted upwards and the rippling surface warped and speckled the moonlight around a long oval silhouette. He was underwater. As his vision drifted closer, the silhouette turned to wood. The underside of a boat. His sight silently breached the surface at the back of the ship. It was their galley.
Slowly and noiselessly, his vision rose up the back of the boat and peered over the side. Sitting alone was a handsome man stooped over a large diamond. Atticus watched his own eyes widen with realization, still unable to pull himself free from the enchanted jewel. A monstrous hand on the end of a long prehensile tail snaked towards him. He felt its clammy palm stroke his face, watching helplessly as his body tensed, but remained silent. The hand pressed a talon into his cheek. Pain surged through him, but instead of crying out, he sat powerless in the waking trance as the claw pierced his flesh. A drop of blood pooled from underneath the talon and the hand retracted to the creatures' muzzle. It licked blood from its claw and climbed back into the water.
It swam under the galley, this time climbing up the bow. The muffled hearing grew slightly more distinct as the creature neared the side of the boat. Through the railing, he saw Kopa playing with the wolf. It watched them for some time before the two neared the bow. Kopa laughed, tagging the wolf behind the ear and challenging it to catch him. Atticus could feel the sharp edges of the crystal stabbing into his shaking hand, but despite himself, he couldn't drop it. Frozen, he sat, looking through the eyes of the monster until the creak of wood showed him what he'd been desperately trying to not see.
The wolf's ears flicked towards the sound and it locked eyes with him, with Ahuizotl, through the wooden railing. For all the wolf's speed, it was too late. Before it could even bark in alarm, the tail struck out like a snake and dragged Kopa beneath the black water.
The boy thrashed blindly for the surface, a constricting tail and lithe arms made little work of his resistance. Three webbed hands grabbed at Kopa's face. One five fingered claw held his head in place while the others claimed their prizes. Atticus felt sweat rolling off his forehead as he was forced to watch the monster's butchery. Kopa released all the air in his lungs in a muffled scream as Ahuizotl's longest finger scooped out the child's eye.
All at once, the tension in Atticus' body released, and sent him hurtling backwards, slamming against the wooden helm. The diamond flew from his hand and skittered across the deck. He blinked, relieved just to be looking through his own eyes again. The sounds of panic and screams came as a relief. The boy was gone, a real shame too. He thought as he brushed himself off and picked up the eye of Ahuizotl. A pain in his cheek brought a sweaty hand to investigate. Smeared blood on his fingers reminded him exactly how much worse it could have been. He tucked the eye of Ahuizotl back into his pocket and patted it gently, careful not to look at it. Not only was the diamond huge, but magic too. He smiled, imagining the fortune it would fetch.