Water invaded my lungs. Betrayed by my first breath, I was drowning. My chest burned as a sharp pain wracked my side. I flailed, helplessly grasping for something to grab ahold of. My elbows struck soft mud—I was at the bottom. I felt the tips of my fingers break the surface. Twisting around, I pushed off the mud, pulling my legs under me and standing. My head emerged, and I started vomiting up water, convulsing as hacking coughs wracked my body.
In the chaos, my arm brushed something, and another stab of pain blossomed from my aching side, just below my ribs. I couldn’t think straight; I had to get out of there. Staggering forward, using all my strength just to slog through the hostile muck, I crashed into a stump emerging from the water.
I wrapped my arms around it, clinging to it, still trying to clear my lungs. Eventually, my breath was ragged, but unlabored. I looked around, seeing nothing but oppressive darkness and silvery fog that blotted out the rest of the world. I was in a swamp; I could smell that much. High above, the pale moon revealed itself to be the source of the argent mist.
Where was I? Who was I?
Frogs and insects had begun singing once more now that the disturbance I’d cause subsided. Nothing otherwise stirred in the mire. At least, not that I could tell.
My body was bruised, badly. I felt trampled, broken. And soon, the source of the stabbing pain was apparent: a broken spear protruded from my side. Should I leave it there or take it out? I didn’t know. I couldn’t think straight.
And then I felt the hunger.
It gripped me like the jaws of a vicious beast. Every instinct told me starvation was eminent. I had to eat something soon; the hunger was worse than the pain. It was like the hurt was ice melting away before a great fire.
Grabbing the broken length of spear, I pulled. It came free far easier than I expected. But to my shock, the spearpoint was missing. Blood came pouring from the wound, seeping down my torn shirt and into the filthy water. Before I could realize where the spearpoint had to be, something burrowed in my gut. A slashing sensation dug deeper, dulled by the overwhelming hunger. It was like the weapon was alive, cutting, digging, piercing into my very core.
I shrugged it off, I had to eat something, sink my teeth into flesh. Letting go of the bit of spear and the stump, my feet lifted themselves from the muck and started trudging, the direction chosen at random and by compulsion to move.
Nothing looked right or familiar. This place held no memories of mine. Or, at least, none that I remembered. Why was I in a dismal swamp of all places? Between trying to force myself to remember, resisting the urge to succumb to the growing starvation, and the loss of blood, I didn’t notice the shape in the water.
My leg hit the submerged object, and I stumbled, crashing into the water. The sensation of drowning was still fresh in my mind; I sloshed back upright, trying to find what made me trip. Dim light and murky water hit whatever it was. Stooping, I raked my hand through the water until I touched something that felt like leather. Taking hold, I pulled it up, revealing a waterlogged corpse…
A burst of hunger made me salivate. Horrified by my own urge and the shock of the dead, I dropped the body. It had been clothed in leather armor, but I couldn’t make out any more details the brief second I saw it.
Turning ‘round, the faint moonlight revealed that the corpse I’d found wasn’t the only one. Dozens of bodies lay in the shallow water. A few floated by, others were mangled, impaled on spears identical to the one that wounded me. A few looked bisected, cleaved by some violent weapon that butchered limbs and heads alongside entire torsos.
Movement suddenly caught my attention. A large shape detached itself from one of the floating corpses and started toward me. Suddenly, fears of the dragons that lurked in places like these came to mind. I couldn’t call to mind any of the specifics, but I knew my death was at hand.
The creature swam closer, its lazy tail propelling it into a patch of moonlight. Its rough green skin was like armor and its long maw like an armory of daggers. I turned and tried to run. The water seemed like molasses, the mud like quicksand. I looked back to see the monster sailing ever closer.
There was nothing I could do—my end had come already. I could hear it right behind me. With some last-second impetus, I turned just in time to see the creature lunge. There was a flash of teeth and a stab of pain…
…but I was still there.
I tasted blood—spitting, a chunk of strange flesh went flying out. The dragon lay dead, floating capsized with its throat torn open. A dull sensation of pain drew my attention to my palm; a jagged shard of metal protruded from it as if it were grown from my flesh. It was worn, but its shape was unmistakable: a spearhead, for sure like the one that was lodged in me.
While I stood there pondering it, the metal growth seemed to retract, sinking back into my hand. Skin distended and bones shuffled to let it pass. I hissed in plain and discomfort, but it soon stopped, having fully disappeared back into my body.
Now, there was a bleeding wound in my hand, the laceration stretching from the base of my thumb to my little finger. Everything seemed dull compared to the visceral hunger, for I knew I should be screaming in agony.
With the need to eat once again dominating my mind, I felt pulled to the still warm body of the dragon. I tried to fight the urge, but I felt faint. I had lost too much blood, there was a tremor in my hand, no, I was shaking.
I was so weak…
Sinking to my knees, the water cam up to my waist, and I let the hunger take over. Teeth and nails dug into the creature, biting into the sinewy flesh. Ropes of intestines and bags of organs disappeared down my gullet in a haze. The taste was monstrous. I lost count of how many times I had to fight the urge to vomit.
Dawn was breaking when I returned to my senses, finally satiated. I was gnawing on a bone like a rabid dog, seemingly devoid of any decency. Disgusted, I tossed it to the side, but then I realized the extent of what I had done in my ravenous frenzy; the entire thirteen-foot skeleton had been stripped such that all that remained was pale bone.
What was I?
I looked down at my hands—covered in blood that wasn’t mine. Looking past the instruments of gore, I saw my reflection in the dark water. I didn’t recognize the face that looked back at me; it could just have easily belonged to another; I didn’t hold any sense of ownership over it. I looked gaunt, and pale under the spattering of crimson that covered my jaw and soaked down my neck and throat.
Strangely enough, the pain was gone; I felt whole for the first time. Using the swamp water, I washed my hands as best I could, and lo and behold, the cut that spanned the width of my hand was gone without so much as a scar. Standing, I lifted my shirt and there wasn’t any sign of the spear wound either.
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Injuries didn’t heal that fast, especially not of that magnitude—of that much I was certain. Regardless, no explanation was forthcoming. So, instead of trying to find out things that were beyond my ability, I decided to set about trying to clean myself up.
With my ruined and soaked shirt, I wiped my face, arms and upper body clean of the drying blood and stray bits of meat. Strangely, I noticed that I did, in fact, have a scar. It was dull red, running from either side of my mouth along my jawline with a few odd offshoots.
After that, I decided the shirt was ruined and cast it aside. My trousers were scarcely any better off, covered in tears and rips. The need for clothes, paired with a desire to leave the swamp as soon as possible, led me back to the remnants of the battle nearby.
The bodies hadn’t started to smell yet, which was an unexpected blessing as I picked through the remains. In all, I found two sets of clothes that fit me, both of which were wet but I could let one be drying, a set of fine leather armor cobbled together from undamaged pieces salvaged from various corpses, a sword, a dagger, and a pouch of golden, silver, and copper coins.
I also noticed that nearly all the bodies had a small metal pendant worn around their necks with a small chain. The pendant itself was thin and stamped with strange writing of some kind. So, if all of these men were allies, what were they fighting that left all of them dead, and no sign of itself?
Putting that out of mind, I spotted the wrecks of a few rowboats lay nearby, and after a more intensive search, I found one undamaged. Soon, I was rowing through the swamp, past trees, and rogue stumps, in the direction I hoped the dead men had come from—hoping that would lead me back to a town.
Now that the sun had risen, the swamp didn’t seem as hostile. Great strands of moss hung from the towering trees whose roots spread like veins of vitality. Vines climbed over any exposed surface, growing next to mosses of greens, grays, reds, and a few splashes of blue; all of them exhibiting various shades and hues of their kind. Fungi and mushrooms clung to the sides of great logs like living shelves of a great natural larder. Birds, frogs, and insects filled the air with noise that seemed to beat with a rhythm beyond any of their individual songs.
Still, the thorns and briars didn’t escape my notice. And I spotted a few more of the dragons in the distance, sitting on the banks of small mud islands or floating in a patch of sun-warmed water. They didn’t seem interested in me at that moment, but I didn’t want to give that fact a chance to change.
The hunger started to return as I rowed on. I had noticed it sharply growing over the past hour, threatening to reach the level that plunged me to base animal instinct if I didn’t stop it soon. All I could do is row on. After going a ways further, the trees seemed to open up, as more and more mud islands began to rise from the murk.
I glanced up to the horizon and saw several trails of smoke. With the hope that a town was just ahead, I rowed faster. Sure enough, docks came into view, and beyond them, houses expanding out of the swamp and into the dense forest that surrounded it.
Drifting to a stop next to the dock, I realized I didn’t have any pack or sack to carry my spare set of clothes in, so I tied them in a bundle to the end of an oar, leaving its twin in the rowboat that I didn’t bother tying off; it could drift back into the swamp for all I cared—I was not going to be using it to return to the damned mire.
Leaving the docks, I began to move through the town itself. No one paid me any mind save for a sideways glance. It seemed the area adjacent to the docks was taken up by a fish market. That wasn’t quite the right word for it; they had large slabs of meat that couldn’t have come from anything except the dragons, and what looked like small, red insect-like creatures with disproportionately large fore-pincers. Beyond the market lay several houses. They weren’t all that impressive, looking dank and near rotted like the swamp. Eventually, I spotted a tavern: The Inn O’ Wisps.
It appeared better cared for than the shanty hovels around it with all its windows whole and the dark wood free of rot. Pushing open the door, smells of food wafted over me, eliciting a rumble from my stomach. Most of the tables were empty except for a few occupied by the local commoners.
“You boys back already?”
I looked to the counter where the voice had come from. A woman in a stained apron was standing behind the counter, looking at me as if she expected good news.
“Uh, no, it’s just me,” I croaked. It was like I hadn’t spoken in years.
My answer brought a frown.
“What about the rest of ‘em?”
“The rest of who?” I ventured cautiously.
Her eyes narrowed, “What do you mean, where are the rest of the hunters you went out with?”
“I-I’m sorry, I hit my head, and I’m a little confused…” I trailed off, rubbing the back of my head for effect.
Her eyes widened and her expression shifted to concern, “Oh you poor dear, you don’t remember?”
“No, nothing, really,” I shook my head.
“My goodness, that must have been some blow. Did the beast do it? Oh, what am I sayin’, you wouldn’t know would you?”
“What beast?” I asked.
“Well, I’ll tell you what I know; maybe it will help you get your memory back. You boys came down here to deal with a monster that’s been terrorizing us and the nearby farms and villages. It came in the night, eating whole cows in minutes, sometimes leaving multiple half-eaten and rotting. Some of us tried to form a posse to hunt it down, but then we started finding the partly eaten remains of the farmers and such. That was when the Duke hired your party to kill it and bring it in.”
Cold sweat broke out on my brow as unease gripped me. “What did the beast look like?”
“Everyone says something different, but they know it’s fast, with spines like blades covering it from head t’ toe.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
The woman nodded, “It’s put a strain on life around here, that’s for sure. But, your leader, Broms I think his name was, should be coming back with the other half of your group in an hour or so.”
“Really?”
I half-muttered the question, I didn’t want to run into these people. I was almost surely the monster this woman was talking about. Images of me tearing the swamp-dragon apart flashed through my mind, sending chills down my spine. Disgustingly, I felt my hunger flare at the thought of eating, even if it was revolting and raw.
“Well, could I trouble you for some food while I wait; I’m completely famished.”
“Of course, dear, I’ll fetch you some stew.”
“How much do I owe you?” I asked, reaching into the bundle-wrapped oar to fetch the coins.
“Oh, don’t bother with that, your party paid a big tab in advance. I’ll fetch you some ale while I’m at it.”
“That would be greatly appreciated.”
When the hearty bowl was placed in front of me, I had to fight not to start lapping like an animal; it was torture shoveling it with the spoon. But soon, the wooden bowl was scraped clean, and I sent for another. Three more bowls vanished into my seemingly endless stomach, and I saw that my strangeness had not gone unnoticed by the innkeeper.
Even though I would have just as soon remained wolfing down stew, I knew I had to leave. When the woman was out of sight, I grabbed the oar and made for the door. To my horror, I saw several individuals in leather armor identical to the stolen set I wore walking up the street. Quickly I turned, and tried to put some distance between us, but I heard a voice call out, “Hey, where have you been?”
“Why aren’t you with the others?” the same voice demanded again.
I stopped, and slowly started to turn—maybe they wouldn’t recognize me, and I could pass for a petty thief instead of a blood thirsty monster.
“Are there any other surviv—?"
Face them now, I saw shocked expressions turning to rage. The man at the head of the party wore chainmail and a helmet with some insignia I didn’t recognize.
“It’s him!” he shouted, prompting his men to draw swords.
Shit.
I pulled my own sword free of its sheath, and got ready to fight, the hunger growing once more.
“Get the ropes!”
Ropes?
They rushed me, but didn’t get near, encircling me instead, staying just out of reach. I whipped my head around, trying to watch for a surprise sword to the back.
The men baring blades didn’t make a move; they simple held the line while lines of rope came sailing overhead. At the ends of the ropes were metal weights, that maid the coils wrap themselves around me when the landed.
Before I could react, my legs, torso, and one of my arms were suddenly struggling against the taut cordage.
“Bind him fast!”
I saw another rope fly from the ranks for my only free arm; I managed to twist it out of the way just in time, but I didn’t get a chance to use the sword. Someone rushed me from behind, grabbing my free arm, and pulled as if he were trying to wrest it from the socket.
I howled in pain, and felt a searing, slashing sensation shoot from my chest and up my arm. The man screamed and let go. He fell, with a hole in his leather armor right at his heart. I looked and saw a familiar metal spike protruding from my arm slowly retracting.
By now, the rest of them had charged, and I was knocked to the ground in the chaotic melee.
I struggled to get free, but more and more ropes were tied around me. My head was all that was free, and I thrashed it to and fro, trying to bash it into anything I could.
The last thing I saw was a large wooden club crashing into my face.