6 March 2373
This second day of our journey, we’ve made a bold decision to follow the directions provided by the pixies. They, according to every legend and my own instincts, are untrustworthy creatures. But today, that is all the direction we have. I’ve no doubt we will run into all manner of mythical creatures and unspeakable powers on our journey. I anticipate writing them down when next we rest.
Until then,
Mellark, Scholar-Savant
From The Truth and the Fae: A Memoir
By Mellark Brandybeard
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MELLARK
“So, who’s going swimming?” Syrdin had emerged from the forest and surveyed the lake with hands on hips.
Though Mell did not immediately volunteer, she assumed she would be the logical choice. Fenn wasn’t much of a swimmer.
Galendria stumbled past the last cluster of ferns, Krid a step behind her. “A bit more of a pond than a lake, isn’t it?” Cheerful now that they’d found the water, Gale ignored Syrdin’s question. Mell had hoped that after the “war-torn people” talk, Gale would be more tolerant of Syrdin—not that Syrdin wasn’t snarky or suspicious by nature. That had been wishful thinking.
“Yes, seems so,” Fenn hummed, “but it probably would be a lake to a creature the size of a pixie.”
Galendria giggled. “You make a good point.”
Mell smiled to herself as she crossed the grass and reeds that descended toward the water. She could see the way Gale’s eyes lingered on Fenn, how she smiled easily when he was speaking. She remembered that feeling, even if it had been a long, long time. Of course, in Mell’s case, it had been mutual. Give it some time. Watch, Fenn will come around. Mell rolled her eyes at herself. I’m starting to think like Krid.
Grasping a small tree whose roots drank from the pond, she stuck her toes in the water. Ripples radiated outward across the crystalline surface. Up close, the green color was a mere tint. In it, tiny fish scattered away from the shore, and floating plants retracted their long, flowering fronds back into themselves as the ripples reached them. If the plants recoil at a little ripple like that, something must eat them.
She pulled her feet up under her and noticed the tree. Its craggy bark was carpeted with moss nearly up to her hand, despite the water only touching its roots.
“Well, if no one else feels like swimming,” Syrdin stood at the water’s edge, a hand in front of zheir hood to block the sunlight reflected by the pond, “I guess I’ll volunteer.”
“Wait,” Fenn stopped zhem. “We may need someone who can speak Faerish to attempt to talk to it.”
Syrdin huffed. “Right, well then I’ll go with the swimmer for protection.” Zhe gestured to Krid, who was hunched on all fours sniffing at the water’s edge dubiously. “I don’t think our personal dragon will be getting his feet wet.”
Krid lifted his head. “Are there many water reserves like this on Hethbarn also?”
Mell twisted her lips in a rye smile. The drakeman clearly did not know how to swim. A jittery Fenn launched into an extensive list of lakes across Hethbarn: Abishyri, the Lilac Stillwaters, even the little ones Mell didn’t know. He’d hardly gotten past the ones in Etnfrandia before she had stripped off her cloak, revealing her simple linens underneath. With the slim elves nearby, she felt heavy and frumpy so exposed. None of the others would care, so she set aside the feeling with her backpack. “Here goes!”
“Be careful, please.” Fenn paused his list to watch her.
She stepped her sandaled toes into the muddy bottom. They squished in, but not deep. At least the walk itself will not be treacherous. The scattered plants withdrew from her feet while tiny, lanceoloid fish patched with bright colors did the work of minnows, nibbling at her toes.
“I’m right behind you,” Syrdin’s voice took on a steady, reassuring tone that Mell had not heard in the days since they’d joined Fenn. She could hear the quiet splash of Syrdin wading in behind her.
Fenn picked up his ongoing list. The steady sound of it accompanied her across the pond, a comforting presence. The cool water made her feel alive. Whether with nerves or a supernatural vitality, she wasn’t sure. Her heart thrummed as the water swished past her waist.
She turned back to check her progress. The incline had been shallow, so she was farther out than she had expected to be at her current depth. On the shore, Fenn was removing his boots as a precaution, his load of camping goods piled next to hers. Though someone else might have found his continued speech neglectful, she knew it was his nerves speaking. He rambled to Krid about the Black Lake and how completely unlike this crystalline beauty it was. Syrdin waded up to zheir chest behind Mell.
“What can you see?” Fenn called, meeting her gaze with a concerned expression.
Mell searched about. Weed-like plants tickled her ankles and she could still see her toes, dark between the lavender-colored leaves. The floor dropped away a few steps in front of her. There, broken by the glittering surface, a forest of plants waved gently in pale colors of blue, purple, and green. She could see vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples wafting through it, likely fish, with long streaming kites for fins.
“The water is pretty clear. I’d have to go very, very deep for it to get dark.”
“Only if you think it’s safe!” He called back. “I’d rather you come back alive than risk yourself to find the creature.”
“It drops off here, so I’m going to go under for a little look. If I’m not up in thirty seconds, you might want to hold my funeral.”
Mell could just see the confused worry cross Fenn’s face. She grinned, a bit nervous herself. He’s too easy to tease.
With that, she dunked herself into the water. The freshness stung her eyes, but not enough to interfere with the view. Bright light filtered in, and what had been chopped up by ripples was now clear to her. Long tendrils lined with violet leaves anchored floating plants to the pond’s floor. Tear-drop fish with colorful, flowing fins scattered in whirling twists of fin and bubbles, spiraling away as she launched herself to the edge of the dropoff.
It was even brighter than she had expected. The shadows cast by floating plants and nervous fish played on the pond’s bottom, which was carpeted in what she assumed must be grasslike algae. Curled shells of striped and spotted patterns scuttled across it, chasing shimmering bundles of fluorescent streamers no larger than a minnow. Is this pond even deep enough to have a place with only “one ray of light”?
She rose to the surface with a gasp.
“See anything yet?” Fenn called.
“Nothing monstrous!” She bounced herself on her toes. Syrdin was treading water nearby. Judging by zheir dry hood, zhe had not followed Mell under.
The others were lined up on the shore now. Fenn had pulled out a small crossbow and was about knee-deep in the water, a safety measure, to be sure. Mell had nearly forgotten he knew how to use one. He’d mentioned, once or twice, that all Etnfrandians spent a couple of decades under military conscription. He’d described it more as an artful pursuit than a combative one–really putting the art in martial arts. Hopefully, Fenn wouldn’t need true combat skills.
Mell dove again then launched herself off the bottom past the drop-off. She scanned the mud and algae below, searching for any sign of a crevice or cave. This dropped bottom still sloped a bit, but seemed to even out ahead. Despite the bright clarity of the water at the bottom, she judged the depths of it were beyond her reach–and she was a proficient swimmer. Still, she paddled her feet and descended further.
An odd shape caught her eye among the weeds: a mossy green mound among lavender leaves. A boulder? It was large and rested on the bottom. That, she believed she could reach. She struck out for it, intending to launch herself from it toward the surface. She had nearly reached it when a chasm opened in it.
Not a chasm! White tusks reached for her, backed by purple gums. Its mouth opened wide enough to swallow her head twice, one tusk as long as her hand and the other broken.
She screamed in the water in what became a muted puff of bubbles. She flailed upward, kicking for the surface. The not-boulder rose after her, its tubby legs appearing on the pond floor. For once in her life Mell was grateful she floated because it pushed off the bottom after her, a massive barrel of algae with dark, beady eyes. As she turned to scramble for the surface, she saw a shroud of shadow sink past her and thought it flashed with a glimmer of metal. Still, she kicked and pulled at the water.
The monster groaned behind her, and she glanced down to see a mist of purple leak into the water by its eye. Then its maw opened again. It clamped onto the mass of dark cloak that comprised Syrdin. Horror sickened Mell’s stomach, but she had no time for regrets when it charged toward her, stomping on water like it was the ground.
The creature swam toward her, anger in the flare of its wide nostrils and the twist of its tiny ears. She felt the burn of water in her nose as her body tried to gasp for air. She turned out of the way. It veered after her. Terror gripped her as she struggled on. The creature caught up. Twisting and kicking, she managed to land her feet on its broad green nose and launch herself to the surface.
“Syrdin!” The cry barely sputtered past her lips before the monster crashed out of the water, Syrdin dangling from its jaws. It swam over her, shoving her under.
Legs as thick as oaks pounded her deeper under the water. Pain radiated from her side as the world became a swirl of bubbles and filmy leaves. Her left side throbbed. Please, Lorthen, don’t let anything be broken. Something hard scraped against her right knee. The bottom. Blessedly, the creature had kicked her to a shallower part of the pond. She found she could still move enough to launch herself upward. When her head broke the surface again, she saw the beast crashing toward the shore some distance away from the others. They ran, circling the pond to meet it.
Oh no! Panic rose. Mell reached out one hand from the water and tried to concentrate over both the ache of her trampled body and the tickle of water in her throat. Her headpiece glowed. A flame fizzled in the air for a moment where she conjured it, then dissipated as she erupted into a coughing fit, her body forcing out water.
Sounds confused in her ears as she struggled to regain her breath: the hiss of a crossbow bolt, Krid’s bellowed a warcry, and answer of the creature as it roared back, emerging from the pond with much sloshing. She heard a splunk. She lifted her gaze to see blood, a purple ooze, leaking from the creature’s side.
She paddled herself toward the conflict on shore, still sputtering, eyes and nose burning. Syrdin? The elf jabbed weakly from within the beast’s mouth, dagger in hand, face contorted with pain. Alive.
Zheir face! Mell had seen it before, but the others… Not important now. It was time to put her battle support training to use. She pushed forward, feet reaching the bottom. She nearly fell as her left leg gave out in a spasm of pain. A cry escaped her.
On the shore, the beast charged Krid. While the ready warrior sidestepped, a sudden warmth spread across Mell’s body. Healing. Gale. Mell breathed in and stepped securely on her leg as she focused her own magic on the monster. “Release!” she commanded it.
It paused. Mell held her breath. Then, with all the indignity of a dog dropping a toy at its master’s request, it opened its maw. Syrdin fell from its mouth in an uncharacteristic pile. Mell thought her heart stopped. At the same moment, a crossbow bolt splintered into it with unnatural speed. It bellowed in pain, burying any cry of Syrdin’s as zhe sloppily rolled aside.
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When it swung its open mouth toward Krid and snapped, Mell again glimpsed its tusks. They were not the incisors of a predator, but rather the many and scattered mounds built for grinding. This was no carnivore. It is acting in self-defense.
Mell kept wading toward them, slow, assessing the fight. Krid had drawn his sword and swung it toward the beast, which moved to dodge. In its effort, it nearly crushed Syrdin. From the ground, zhe jabbed zheir dagger up into its leg, tripping its maneuver. Krid’s sword slashed away globs of fur stained purple with its blood.
Mell shook herself. Her inaction would cost them. This giant herbivore might be the lake monster–the lead–we seek. They needed to fight defensively and wear it down, not hurt it. But first, she reached out a hand toward Syrdin, working up a spell.
Someone else beat her to it as Syrdin rolled over and stumbled to zheir feet, gently aglow. Gale. She must not have seen zheir face. Syrdin took a half-hearted swipe as zhe stumbled away. The beast was busy with Krid and didn’t notice.
“Wait!” Mell screamed. She threw her hands up in the air. “Stop attacking it!”
She gained some confused looks from her companions. But before they could make another move, several pairs of eyes appeared in the treeline behind them, glittering with hunger.
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FENNORIN
The water beast charged toward the shore, trampling over Mell, who ducked under the surface. With every step, the creature rose further out of the water. Algae dripped like fur from a fat body, rotund as an autumn bear. As it tossed its enormous head, he realized with horror that Syrdin dangled from its jaws. Fenn sprinted out of the water, running around to meet them. At least it’s not Mell in its jaws. He hated the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. I’ve got to help Syrdin.
He paused his mad dash just long enough to aim his hand crossbow at the beast. His fingers shook as he yanked the string into the catch. As he did, a shimmering bolt appeared in the flight groove, a high-level enchantment he had placed for such an occasion. He released it and jolted himself back into a run, reedlike plants cutting at his bare feet. The magical ammunition skimmed the surface of the water and bounced off the beast's leg, harmless. Athyr-deemed-it! Enchantments mattered little when the wielder was useless.
Ahead of him, Krid bellowed his warcry and threw a handaxe into the beast's side. Purple blood trickled out. The drakeman growled and pulled his sword. The beast roared back and charged. Now that Fenn could see it fully on the shore–four stout legs, long head, little ears, wide-set eyes, taller than Krid at its shoulder–he realized he had no idea what it was. No time for that now.
Fenn’s gaze skimmed the surface of the lake for Mell, vision bouncing with his glasses as he rounded the shore. There! Mell struggled to stand in the water but was aglow with a faint light. She stepped up, circlet glowing, hand outstretched to the beast. She’s alright.
Fenn stumbled to a stop some ten paces from the beast. His breath hiccupped in his chest, tighter than that short sprint merited. What do I do? He could see Syrdin’s legs kicking weakly. He reached for an idea, grasping in his panic for something, anything to free Syrdin. He grabbed a bolt from his pack. Gods, let this work. He tossed it in the air in front of him and focused. He pointed his finger at the bolt, concentrating magic onto it. In an instant, he wrote a simple instruction: fly there! Then he flicked his finger toward the beast.
“Release!” Mell’s voice. He could just see the monster drop Syrdin.
His bolt whistled as it sped straight into the beast’s side. Yes! It groaned, eyes still glazed from Mell’s spell.
Some of the tension left his chest as Syrdin crumpled onto the beach, fingers clamped around a dagger. Alive. Zhe rolled sloppily to the beast’s other side, just out of his sight.
With that worry relieved, another thought struck. What if this is the beast we are looking for?
Krid swung, and the beast flinched against something on its other side. The hit landed, another gash welling with purple blood. Fenn felt his stomach turn in disgust. We need to stop this.
“Wait!” Mell screamed. Her hands were up in the air. “Stop attacking it!”
Krid glanced toward her, hesitating. Fenn couldn’t see Syrdin from his angle. He tried to add something, but his throat wouldn’t move, his own tumultuous panic choking him. The beast opened its mouth and lunged for Krid. Fenn didn’t have the chance to see what happened next.
A high shriek of pain set him spinning in his tracks. A few steps behind him Gale stumbled under the weight of a blue furry creature latched to her back. She fell to her knees. The creature gripped her with sharp teeth and sickly curled claws, blood dripping from the long incisors buried into her shoulder near where it met her neck. Slitted pupils glared at him under a striped face, daring him to retaliate. A huge, pointed ear flicked a challenge. Panthrae. Gale’s eyes were wide, horrified, pleading with Fenn for help.
Cold dread froze him in place. He’d never been much help to anyone.
He swiveled to call for Krid or Mell. They were no better off. More panthrae streaked out of the woods toward them. These moved like cats and hunted like wolves, a small pack. Opportunists. The thought wasted precious moments. What good is knowing now? As if on their own, Fenn’s feet lurched him to Gale, a hand outstretched.
“Clysnath.” He felt the electricity surge on his fingertips. He reached for the panthrae, but it dodged, pushing from Gale. She fell forward as Fenn’s fingers just brushed the tips of its fur, snapping with static.
It turned on him, one paw slashing at his leg as it lashed its striped tail in glee. This is a game to it. Fenn hopped backward, stumbling in the soft earth around the pond, his trousers ripped by the creature’s claws. It pounced on him, teeth finding purchase in his arm, raised for protection. He slipped backward into the shallows with a brain-rattling thud.
He struggled against the weight of the monster as it bore down, easily heavier than him. Putrid meat smell huffed hot against his face in the breath escaping past his stinging arm, shredded open. Blood, his own, dripped red between the monster’s teeth as they latched tighter to him with a backward curve. Somewhere beyond the splashing, he could hear the sounds of more fighting. Krid could not come save him.
With instincts he didn’t know he had, he thrust his arms backward into the creature’s throat, hoping to choke it.
It shifted its grip, its rough tongue pushing against his arm, but it did not let go. No good. Its claws dug into him, needles jabbing dangerously near his neck. He squirmed, sloshing water onto his cheeks. His dagger’s scabbard dug into his back, out of reach. Please don’t let me die here.
Fenn’s other hand raised almost of its own accord, the crossbow no longer there, and shoved against the panthrae’s shoulder. Fenn tried, once again, to summon the electricity to his hand. His breath came in gasping shudders. “C-Clys–” he choked on water and blood, unable to finish.
He felt a shift backward in the creature’s weight, its jaw tensed around his arm. For a moment, he thought it might let go. Instead, it jerked its head from side to side, his arm along with it. He knew he cried out this time, but he never heard it. Suddenly, its claws pulled out from his neck, paws raising as it reared, dragging his arm up with it.
It’s going to slam me. He knew it with certainty, as one knows lightning before it strikes. I’m going to die. He could not prepare for it. He closed his eyes.
The paws fell on him, heavy. There was no further force behind it. Instead, he heard a gurgling noise. He opened his eyes to see an glowing blade protruding through the creature’s throat, only inches away from Fenn’s own chest.
He gasped and rolled the creature off, wrenching his arm out of its jaws. The searing pain and hot blood nearly set him unconscious.
Before he could muster the sense to wonder what happened, he saw her. In the mud behind the carcass stood Gale, bloodied, eyes wide, hands shaking around the hilt of a sabre shaped like those of the Everguard. This sword, however, shone with the same light as the tent she had summoned the day before.
Krid roared from down the beach. The others.
Fenn rolled to a crouch and searched for his weapon. It lay nearby on the shore. Snatching it, he struggled to pull back the string. Krid battled a panthrae of his own, its teeth buried in his calf, moving with him as he tried batter it off with his hilt. Fenn propped the crossbow between his legs and hauled the string into the catch with his unharmed arm, the enchanted bolt appearing. Thanks to Beauty! It still works. He set his sights on a panthrae with its teeth buried in Krid’s calf and shot. The bolt sank into its side, then disappeared. With the creature distracted by sudden pain, Krid cut down its neck.
Fenn lurched forward, the gore nearly launching his rations from his stomach.
“Fenn!” Gale dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his arm. “Yglia.”
A familiar rush of warmth spread throughout his body. The rips in his flesh closed and new energy filled his muscles. He scanned the fight for more danger. Cuts from claws marred the water beast and carcasses of several panthrae were strewn around it, some crushed, some cut. Krid had danced back from it, his stance defensive. He couldn’t see Syrdin, but Mell still waded in the water very near the beast.
“Are you alright?” Gale’s green eyes were large and glassy, terror in them mirroring his own. Her hand on his arm quivered.
He barely heard her question as he watched the outcome.
One final panthrae went wailing into the trees. Mell’s voice, firm and gentle, addressed the water-creature. That, he realized, had been the panthrae’s true target. Deep scratches marred its neck, and where one little ear had stuck out from its head, now a nub bled.
The beast moaned and pawed. He detected no understanding from it, but neither did it seem willing to fight. Mell stepped closer, circlet aglow, hand raised with what Fenn thought was a healing gesture. With that, the pond beast decided it had had enough. It splashed away and disappeared into the water, avoiding Mell. They were left on the beach surrounded by the scattered piles of turquoise fur stained with violet stripes, a mix of blood and pattern. On the other side of where it had been, Syrdin stood curled over zhemself. No one had died.
It’s over.
Fenn nearly collapsed with relief, but a quivering hand on his elbow reminded him not to. He set aside his bow and placed his hand on Gale’s trembling one. Finally, he remembered her question. He swallowed back the bile still building in his mouth. “I’ll be just fine, thanks to you.” He heard his voice crack, but hoped the words took effect anyway. He didn’t feel fine. Healed, certainly, but shaken and ill.
He scooted around to face her. She had fared worse, her shoulder still oozing with fresh blood. He wasn’t sure how bad it was, but it was enough to make him dizzy–not that that took much. But Gale had paled, her breath rapid and hands shaking. She was still staring at him, seeming to not quite focus where she looked. Is it her wound? He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to help her. Do something. Now’s not the time to worry about what’s proper.
“It’s alright. It’s over now.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “Mell?” Fenn looked to his friend, who turned her attention to them. She’ll know what to do.
“Y-you,” Gale shuttered, then pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “You could have died.”
Fenn felt a rush of emotions, familiar and unfamiliar. Compassion, concern, and a strange warmth. She had almost died, with that deep wound in her shoulder only inches from her neck.
“No,” he tried to sound self-assured, “not even close. Not with you here. It might have been close without your help.” Lies. It had been close with her help. Without her, he would have been hopeless. He’d been pinned, his dagger trapped under him. Neither of his shocking spells had taken. He’d landed only half of his shots before that. He’d been pretty much useless. As he always seemed to be.
He pointed her attention to the others. “See the others? Everyone is okay.” Krid nursed a few scratches, Syrdin watched the forest while clutching zheir side, and Mell... Well, Mell was livelier than ever, despite the blood trickling down her forehead. She spat at a corpse of a dead panthrae as she trod up the shore toward them.
Gale still clung to him, but she tried to take a few deep breaths. She nodded, even as another shiver shook her whole frame.
Fenn turned to Mell as she approached. “Please, Gale’s been–”
“Yeah, I see. One of them got you two, too.” She crouched and placed a hand on Gale.
“You tried speaking to the creature?” Fenn asked her.
“I don’t think it understood anything. Except that we were a fight it couldn’t win.” She huffed. “Don’t ever let me volunteer for danger again. That was way too close.”
He inspected Mell for signs of her own struggles and found many. Lake mud stained her underclothes, ripped at the knee, and her forehead trickled with blood. It had been closer for everyone than he led Gale to believe.
The gash in Gale’s shoulder closed–mostly, under Mell’s touch. “You’ll want to find a cloth to press on that,” she said.
He nodded, silent. If they had died, would it be my fault? I brought them here. He found himself holding Gale tighter. Before he could give it more thought, Krid began issuing orders.