The rain gave way to sleet as the evening gave way to night. Clive was made constantly aware of this due to the layer of ice constantly breaking and reforming around his body. At one point, he had tried to drink from the air, and his tounge was still throbbing from that mistake. A sickening, wet screech sounded out from behind, and a tired roar from beneath rose to meet the challenge. Clive couldn't even imagine how the little girl must feel. There was a good chance her herd had been completely scattered by the worm horde. The worst part of everything was the way the mud was slowly starting to thicken. Most scholars suspected that mudskimmers could only move through the softest earth, which explained why they would only surface durring rainstorms to feed.
That, however, is not the case. In reality, a herd of mudskimmers only surfaces durring rainstorms when a worm horde is nearby. Otherwise, they are content to remain in their heavily fortified burrows, eating whatever small insects find their way through the air shafts.
Now that was odd. Clive couldn't remember learning that little bit of information. Frankly, if it hadn't came from his own head, he probably wouldn't have believed it. Also, it seemed to imply that there were multiple worm hordes, and Clive was fairly certain there was only one.
Oh, Clive. What do they teach you out there? Of course there are multiple worm hordes. How would they W94@jvoeeX-
Clive nearly fell off the mudskimmer as he clutched his head. It hurt to think about, but someone had been talking to him. Who they were or why they were with Clive was still a mystery, but they had apparently told him things that nobody had been able to figure out for decades. It was then that an idea crossed Clive's mind. It was crazy, possibly even deadly, but even so, it filled him with the slightest bit of hope. Maybe he wouldn't die after all.
Alright, weird head-voice, what else can you tell me about the prairie?
***
Getting information out from the folds of your own mind was a lot harder than one might expect, and Clive was starting to become an expert on the topic. The last hour had felt like an eternity, each migrane only making him more resolute in his course of action. He had tried focusing on everything from a clod of dirt to the horde he eventually tossed it at. So far, he had learned about mudskimmer mating rituals, along with some vague story about someone driving a mudskimmer fang into the heart of the horde, but neither of those were of much help in his current predicament.
Clive's mount huffed beneath him, clearly growing more tired by the minute. Clive had done his best not to think about her, sympathy was likely to get him killed faster more than anything. Yet, as a soft weezing came out from her mouth, Clive couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She could still be with her herd right now if not for him. Then again, the horde had her marked before he had shown up, so there was a chance he had prolonged her life, at least a little.
Mudskimmers are some of the most intelligent animals you'll find on this world. This can be very beneficial to a tamer, but it also makes them very distrustfull of most things that aren't a part of their herd. I would reccomend bribing one with some dried meat, but they have been known to follow the orders of those who can protect them from harm.
It was then that Clive noticed his grip for the first time, both hands were firmly on the neck of the mudskimmer, and that seemed to have the effect of forcing the girl's head under what was now a solid layer of ice. Realizing his mistake, Clive quickly moved his grip closer to his chest. The mudskimmer immidiately lifted her head to take a deep breath. Another pang of guilt went through Clive. This animal truted him, and he had nearly suffocated her.
Did you not hear what I just told you!? Mudskimmers know when they're going to suffocate; they're not just going to die because you tell them too!
Well, that was a relief, at least. Clive still had no idea who that person was, but he was greatfull they had found it fit to have these oddly specific dialouges with him. They were quite literally the only reason he was still alive.
What, was I supposed to let you die? I may not be able to leave with you yet, but I certainly wouldn't be this far along with $sLInfwoeV-
We had a deal, pal. You're not dying unless I'm there to die with you.
Now that was very interesting. It was also doing a number on his skull, but he could deal with that later.
***
The next few hours went by much more quickly. Clive found that he could learn more from whoever-it-was by actually opening a dialouge with them directly. It wasn't a perfect method, Clive often remembered parts of a conversation that hardly had anything to do with the question he asked, but it worked well enough that Clive had started having other ideas.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
"Come on! Are you a worm, or a maggot!?"
As it turned out, the horde reacted really well to insults. Apparently, it could eject a mass of worms as a projectile. They never did much more than die immediately, but it did somehow make the horde faster.
Hey, buddy. Why does that horde keep getting faster?
The more frost apes you have in one area, the more solid their ice constucts are able to become. I read a story once about twenty frost apes coming together to build an enormous sled. That didn't end well for the apes...
That's interresting and all, but I was talking about the worm horde. Shouldn't it get slower with less worms to move it around?
Come on Clive, we've gone over this multipe times! The worm hordes are a magical beast. Their strength is always the same as long as the core worm lives. Having less weight just means they are able to use that strength more efficently.
Clive was a bit confused. 'Magical' wasn't a term he was familliar with.
Hey, buddy? Define 'magical'.
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That one nearly did Clive in, but he was able to pull out of the mess before passing out entirely. The only thing that he was able to grab from that garbled mess was an idea vaguely similar to Systro, but a lot more chaotic. Clive took another moment to clear his head before he noticed the rumbling beneath him.
"Oh! You hungry, girl?"
Another rumble came out of Clive's mount, followed by her head turning to look at him.
"Alright, alright. You know I don't have much of this stuff left though, right?"
Clive rummaged through his cloak to find a strip of preserved cinderwing stomach. The mudskimmer chewed happily as she continued to ride through the night.
"Come to think of it, I haven't given you a name, have I?"
The mudskimmer hummed curiously. The worm horde tossed another tangled mass of worms at the pair. It missed by quite a bit, but it was enough to keep Clive on edge.
Alright, buddy. I know I've asked this before, but is there really only the one way to kill this thing?
It's used to be possible to Evn*9v0a7&*(^vyugwe$&fwgU&WDWf38 now there's Systro, so-
Great, thanks! Enough of that for now. Got any good names for a mudskimmer?
There was once a man who tamed a mudskipper and named her Quadgullet. See, back then they believed all mudskimmers had just the two stomachs for digestion, but it turned out that most females have four; one more for fermenting juices and another that can turn fermented goods into raw energy. Before %@(HCLW)#fwhep93u0)(#R*WEFUWnvw923)(UHT#OUIEVw*(R#*(93thfh(J@#*(@#FHwuh9*t9ui7878R&^&7gfg789GYBGAfgwaf76FG8&g^f3R7Gg&
NOPE! ABORT, ABORT!
"So..." Clive started shakily, "how do feel about being called Quadgullet?"
The mudskimmer didn't respond.
"...yeah, that's not the greatest. How about... Quazi?"
The mudskimmer seemed to perk up slightly at that.
"Alright, Quazi it is!"
***
Light. There wasn't much of it, but Clive could clearly see the sky turning shades of dark, dark blue. The horde seemed to notice it too, as it's attacks had started to become more frantic and frequent. That wasn't a problem for Clive, who had been getting much better at handling Quazi over the course of the night. Now that he could see the horizon, however, it was becoming much harder to keep himself awake.
"Quazi, do you think you could carry me in your mouth or something?"
Quazi grunted in the negative. Clive got the impression she was too tired not to swallow whatever landed inside her massive jaws. Another wet screeching from behind woke Clive up enough to tilt slightly right. Half of the remaining worms landed on Quazi's left foreleg, and immetiately tried to burrow into her skin. Clive poured a flask over them before they had the chance. Apparently, worms and alcohol did not mix well. Never had Clive been more gratefull for one of his brother's thoughtfull gifts.
Quazi hummed her appeciation, then straightened out into a full sprint. By Clive's drowsy estimations, they only needed to last another hour before the sun came fully over the horizon.
***
"Well that was anticlimactic."
The moment the ground had been lit up even the slightest, the worm horde, now consisting of no more than a hundred worms, had let out one more scream before burrowing back into the ground. Clive wanted to say more, but his only audience had already collapsed on the sand.
That's right, sand. Quazi had rode across the entire prairie in a single night. No wonder she had immediately fell asleep. Clive wanted nothing more than to join her, but as he finally laid himself down, he had to try one last thing.
Hey buddy. Mind telling me your name?
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And with that final headache, Clive drifted off to sleep.