It was very quickly apparent that things were worse than I had imagined.

Cadoc and I rushed out, away from our pool, to make for the opposite side. Our view was blocked until we rounded the dividing stone, but Cadoc drew his sword immediately. I followed suit, drawing my drows, though I doubted heavily that I would need it. My movements felt sluggish, and Cadoc looked similarly slowed, as if we were both wading through quicksand - but I assumed that it was only a matter of being awoken suddenly from a deep sleep, mixed with the muggy environment.

All I could see at first was a mess of colors - matted blacks and browns, alabaster whites, obscene pinks, and the dark hues of dried blood, all obscured by steam, all little more than splotches glimpsed between blinks. Then the forms - I thought I could make out a tanned foot gone limp, a rusted sword gripped in a bony hand, and finally a long, snarling face.

Kalamuzi.

There were more than a dozen of them, but I couldn’t know for sure how many - it was hard to get an accurate count as they scrambled in the mist. One of them lay slain on the cavern floor - I saw first its upper body, eyes rolled back in its head, tongue lolled - and then, as the mist rolled by like rushing clouds, I saw the lower body, a few feet away. It had been cut cleanly in half.

Two of the monsters still living held a limp human body over their heads, and four more Kalamuzi struggled to hold another, wriggling like a piece of furniture that fought to stay put. That was what felt the most like a sick dream - the bodies they held were familiar, yet different somehow, like a memory stretched out until it begins to wear at the edges of imagination. I blinked rapidly, unbelieving, as if the sleep would clear from my eyes and reveal this all to be the remnants of a lingering fantasy involving Roman men and Sabine women, but the scene did not go away, only developed. Nothing made sense, nor did it make more sense as it went. Not at first.

The bodies held overhead - one limp, one thrashing - were naked. The limp one was two-toned, and all the parts I recognized, in horror, were cast in a light bronze - while the rest, only formerly dreamt, were pale, two white moons peeking through the mist over a Kalamuzi’s shoulder. I saw no movement from the body. The limbs swung absently as the pair of Kalamuzi transporting it scampered away from where I stood. But I didn’t see any obvious wounds, either.

The other body - the other person, that is, because by now I could no longer deny that these were my companions - was bound, hands and feet, yet still the Kalamuzi barely managed to keep a hold on her bare, mannish figure. Some of the Kalamuzi were armed, and I watched as one of their swords was twisted into an unrecognizable shape, still held in a Kalamuzi’s grip. It was a slow process, slower than I had ever seen it done before, the sword twisting an inch at a time. I then noticed that the ground was littered with warped and broken weapons - but too few. Many of them were still armed.

I didn’t know if anyone was still yelling - I could hardly hear above the roar of water. But I didn’t think so.

Another detail came into view between coils of steam, and then something like an explanation formed in my mind. There were two piles of clothes and armor stacked up on the water’s edge, beside a carved staff and a plain sword.

Amaia and Naomi - it almost felt vulgar thinking their names, associating those memories with this nightmare - they must have decided that they would bathe, rather than wait for us to finish. I could picture the scene - Naomi complaining about how long we were taking, both too embarrassed to peek around the wall again to bug us, and maybe the yell that had awoken Cadoc wasn’t even the first. Maybe they had shouted at us, unable to get our attention with the noise of the waterfalls. Then I could see Naomi suggesting the idea, Amaia refusing, but Naomi insisting, poking at Amaia, suggesting that the only alternative was to go back to the men’s side and wake us up. Ultimately, whatever had happened, and for whatever reason, they had stripped down, and gotten into the water. Then - likely after they had fallen asleep, as well - the Kalamuzi had attacked.

But I couldn’t believe that Amaia would fall asleep. She was nothing if not a bodyguard. She would have stayed awake and vigilant, one hand on her sword, whether she was bathing or not. I turned my attention back to her, where she struggled not to be taken, and saw that she seemed to move languidly as well, despite her efforts. It was like she was half asleep. Otherwise, perhaps she would have broken free, or the Kalamuzi would not have been able to tie her hands and feet so easily.

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Are the pools cursed? I wondered, thinking of my own drowsiness. I wasn’t even sure if that was a real thing in this world, but it seemed like they must have been. It was the only thing that could explain Amaia’s behavior.

I wanted to avert my eyes from the scene, but was transfixed. It was pointless, anyway. All of this recognition happened within the space of a few seconds, seared into my vision.

The Kalamuzi, even then, were fleeing. It was evident they meant to take prisoners - or perhaps, I shuddered to think, they merely meant to preserve their food, as we had with the worm-drake.

As Cadoc and I came into view, Cadoc shouted after them. They were some ways off, already, and moving fast - the closest were only a few yards away, but the ones with the bodies were quickly retreating.

“Stop, fiends!” Cadoc yelled. “Stand and fight, you cowards!”

All of the ratmen turned to face us - even those carrying Amaia and Naomi - and they seemed ready to face Cadoc’s challenge, a frightening hunger in their beady eyes. Some even took a first step towards us.

But then a screeching noise echoed in the cavern, and one of the farthest-off Kalamuzi squeaked out some gibberish order. I only guessed that it was an order because, afterwards, about half of the Kalamuzi turned away from us again, and continued their retreat. The others raised their weapons, and approached.

I noted, absently, that the Kalamuzi who had given the orders was taller than the others. It was also less hairy, with its fur growing only in patches, while about half of its body was bare skin - at least, what I could see, as the monster was wearing armor, a mix of leather and bone. It reminded me of Risthindicthi, the Kalamuzi I had dueled.

Are there different varieties of Kalamuzi? I wondered. These tall, balding ones seem to be smarter, more dangerous. It was another thought I couldn’t help but think, even in those surroundings, even as I followed Cadoc’s lead and rushed towards our enemies - if you could call our dull steps “rushing.” I could feel my limbs starting to regain their dexterity, but slowly.

If the one barking orders was a higher breed of Kalamuzi, than the ones left to fight us were a lower one, the runts. They were only slightly shorter than the average ratman, but their hair grew wild, and all of the features that differentiated a ratman from simply a large rat were dulled here. They looked somehow more animalistic, their teeth, barred at us, sharper, their eyes like those of dead fish. The standard Kalamuzi we had seen had glimpses of intelligence, enough that it seemed right that I kept thinking of them as “ratmen,” internally - these had none of that. These were giant rats - perhaps less intelligent even than normal rats - and they just happened to walk on their hind legs, and be shaped vaguely in the shape of men. They were armed, rusted bits of metal held tightly in both hands, but it seemed as if they hardly knew how to hold them.

I thought at first that the leader had ordered these ones to stay behind and distract us, but looking at them then, with their mindless hunger, I wondered if no such order had happened, and they had simply ignored the general retreat.

They were spread out with no real pattern, approaching slowly. There were six of them. They growled at us, but held off with a surprising temperance. They made as if to encircle us, like wolves.

The growl of one was interrupted almost immediately. Cadoc was not waiting to be surrounded. A square board of wood appeared in front of one Kalamuzi’s face. It ran into it, hitting its long rat nose against it, squeaking. Before it knew what had happened, Cadoc had dashed forward, and driven his sword through its gut.

“Miles!” he yelled, drawing his sword back out, dirty blood splattering the ground before the ratman collapsed. “To me!” I understood immediately that he meant for us to fight back-to-back.

But it was too late. The Kalamuzi charged, and whether it was intelligence, luck, or primal instinct, they cut us off from each other. Suddenly there were three closing in on me, and two on Cadoc.

My three were variously armed - none wore more than a scrap of armor, an errant glove or boot. One held a comically small knife, like something you’d use to butter bread. Another held a long spear, clumsily, while the third held a sword which had seen better days.

I stuffed my hand in my left pocket, holding the antisword in my right. “The knife one looks the weakest,” I muttered to myself. Adrenaline was pumping - a familiar feeling by now, although I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt it before coming to that dimension.

“Time for some old tricks.”

I threw out a handful of nails, aiming for the ratman with the knife. Predictably, this surprised the monster - had it been smarter, it would have expected something when I stuck my hand in my pocket. I melted them, then ignited them - I had practiced the timing before, and I was getting pretty consistent. They melted enough to stick, then burst into flames, causing the maximum amount of discomfort and pain - though, of course, still minimal damage.

The drows, on the other hand, did more than enough damage. It felt like I’d never swung the weapon so effectively before. With one practiced motion - practiced even back on Earth - I brought the full weight of it down on the Kalamuzi’s forehead. I felt as the brittle skull cracked and broke, felt as the drows smashed through, felt as specks of blood - or perhaps brain - splattered against my cheek. The Kalamuzi was dropped in an instant, head like a deflated balloon.

I turned to the others, but they had backed away, and had stopped their circling. Instead, they stood side-by-side. The one with the spear held it before it, and it would be dangerous to approach. And they were still between Cadoc and I. That attack had taken more out of me than it should have - I was nearly exhausted already. A lingering effect of the pool, I was now certain.

It was an impasse.

Cadoc was fighting against his own enemies, and was being pressed on from multiple directions. He would block with his sword on one side, then turn quickly to block from the other, barely able to move in time.

Finally, the two rats attacked at the exact same moment. He brought up his sword in one hand, while holding out his other, summoning a board to block the attack.

He was too slow. The board appeared too late, batted aside by the Kalamuzi’s curved blade - it may have been a farmer’s hand sickle. It sliced into Cadoc’s arm, painting a line of red. He jumped away, but the damage was done. It was impossible to tell how deep it had cut, but blood ran down his arm and dripped unto the uncaring stone. He pressed against the wound with his sword hand.

And meanwhile, the other Kalamuzi, far off, were nearly out of the room. Even if we won, every second we took made it less likely we’d ever catch up with Amaia and Naomi. We were out of time.