Against the backdrop of the blood-red falls, the shimmering form of the creature unfurled, the proud beast rising to stand on eight legs. Four eyes regarded the Chasmite rescue party imperiously, the air in the chamber suddenly heavy.

Valkyries drew weapons, but many among the party were still frozen.

Gastores fumbled to unhook his mace from his belt and pull the shield from over his shoulder. The arms had already proven ineffectual against Dweomer relics, but no golem had the presence of the creature now before them. It was impossible to imagine a mace with blunted edges cracking those scales, or a splintered and hastily repaired parma warding off that monstrous blade of a tail.

“Focus!” Berenike commanded, voice tense. “No-one do anything stupid!”

The words broke the spell of fear over Gastores’ mind.

“Wh-what is that?!” someone stammered.

It was Sulis who answered, her voice clear and strong despite the danger.

“It’s an awatora. A riverlord. Don’t provoke it; we’re already intruding on its territory.”

“Not for long,” Berenike announced. “We’re retreating! Move together, quickly and calmly. Don’t clump up and don’t run. Valkyries, we’re at the rear. If it comes we’ll pin it down, then the rest of you focus your attacks while it’s stopped.”

Her tone made clear Berenike’s assessment of the beast. The awatora was as dangerous as it looked, but neither she nor Sulis seemed to think it would be a hopeless battle, if it came to that.

They had taken only a few paces back, towards the cover of the stalagmites, when a cry pierced the air.

Flowing like water yet sharp as a blade, the howl of the riverlord was painful to the ear.

With the ease of a leaf on the wind it was airborne, powerful body swimming rather than flying.

A single paw touched down lightly on the near side of the lake, followed by seven more, all without a sound.

It had landed no more than twenty feet from Berenike and the larger Nefret, regarding the nocked arrow of the former and colossal greataxe of the latter with disdain.

Its bladed tail was already prepared, curling around it, but there was movement at its throat too, undulating muscles at work.

Jaws parted, revealing teeth like blades, and where a tongue should have been, a second, smaller maw, like a prehensile snake or eel within the mouth of the beast. From that opening came a hiss, turning rapidly to a gurgle as pressure built in the long throat of the beast.

Berenike and Nefret were already reciting incantations. The other mages of the group were all quick to join them, save for one.

Gastores couldn’t hear the enchanting eclogue of the naiad.

He should have been readying himself for battle, but instead he scanned the crowd at his back, searching for Sulis. She should have been right behind him, yet he realized with growing panic that she had vanished in the moments since he last saw her.

Like the break of day her melody broke through the tension.

Lilting highs and soothing lows washed over the cavern from the small figure stepping out of Berenike’s shadow. The tentacles of her arms were unfurled as she wove music and water together, into a beautiful display of coiling flows and vibrations.

Gastores was sure the awatora would attack her, with whatever weapon it had been preparing for Berenike, yet as he moved forward to interpose she waved him away with a clutch of tentacles.

Far from attacking, the imposing figure was regarding her with interest.

Hostility melted away as her song reached the creature and the party both, weapons lowering on each side. Looking back at the rest of the group, the awatora tilted its head, as if rethinking the situation. Finally, at the last verse in the naiad’s song, it gave a low rumble. The sound grew, tones expanding, the solo becoming a duet.

The music of the riverlord rose with the climax of the naiad’s song, the powerful sounds competing, reverberating all around until it seemed that the whole lake thrummed with power, and then at last the notes broke, falling in sonic waterfalls that seemed to cascade over the ear.

Beautiful and fearsome as the performance was, it was short-lived.

As it came to close the awatora gave a final, lyrical bark like punctuation, and then took to the air once more, landing gracefully back on the strange metal dome where its meal waited for it.

Once there it curled up again, head resting on its forelegs, all but one of those deep, glimmering eyes closing over.

The final eye remained open, observing the expedition of Chasmites, but Gastores couldn’t say if it was in warning or mere curiosity.

“Sulis?” he asked quietly, as though afraid to break whatever spell she had cast. “Are you alright? What… was that?”

She beamed up at him, her smile showing off teeth just as deadly as those of the awatora.

“Relax, Gastores.”

She tuned to Berenike and the others.

“Everyone, we’re safe now. The riverlord has claimed this lake as an extension of his river, and slain those impudent creatures who intruded on his domain, but he consents to grant us safe passage provided we do not plunder his meat or disrespect him.”

“How… did you do that?” Gastores asked, his amazement mirrored throughout the party.

Sulis giggled, visibly enjoying his expression.

“Awatora are proud, primal creatures, and fiercely territorial, but they’re not unreasonable. If you know how to ask nicely.”

“Then it won’t attack us as long as we don’t disturb it, or the bodies?” Nefret asked.

“That’s right. We can pass through.”

“Amazing… you actually talked down a water dragon,” murmured one of the beastfolk.

“They aren’t really dragons. Awatora are closer to spirits.”

“Don’t think that’d make me feel any better ‘bout getting eaten by one,” Ripides chuckled. “We owe you one.”

“Yes, I’m glad we had you here, Sulis,” Berenike said, smiling down at the slightly smaller woman. “I wouldn’t want any of us joining the formorians in his larder.”

“But what happened here?” asked another of the harpies, Heba. “How did an awatora get involved in the first place?”

“I’d say it started with the formorians ambushing the enemy,” Berenike suggested. “Then over the course of the battle there was a cave-in. The awatora was probably just nearby in its river, just as surprised as anyone when it started draining into a cavern below.”

“That would explain why there are so many bodies and so much equipment still here,” Gastores mused.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Heba asked.

“Well, it seemed strange to me that the enemy would defeat the attackers then retreat while leaving behind all these golems and… whatever that is under the rocks. It’s not as though they knew we were chasing them, right? So they should have had plenty of time to move a few rocks with those siege machines of theirs, and collect their weapons and equipment. Or at least destroy whatever they couldn’t take with them.”

“I see what you’re saying, Gastores,” Berenike nodded. “The enemy didn’t win, but they weren’t defeated either. Nowhere near enough debris. They must have retreated from the formorian attack. Then the riverlord showed up and wiped out the surviving formorians.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Sulis cocked her head, looking between the taller speakers curiously.

“That’s interesting, but does it help us?”

It was Gastores’ turn to grin at her.

“It might if that machine under the rocks still works.”

~~~

In the wake of the tense encounter the party had stopped at the shores of the gruesome and surreal lake, resting in the wash of neon light as they discussed how to proceed.

Gastores’ idea had seemed like a simple one; with the awatora pacified they could enter the stricken machine and investigate it at their leisure – while any other hostile creatures wouldn’t dare approach and disturb the magnificent beast.

In practice things were not so easy. The riverlord might have deigned to tolerate their presence, but it had also taken the wrecked machine as a sort of throne. Sulis suggested that it liked the triangular design of the dome, far more impressive than a simple rock, and the proximity to the waterfall and mouth of its river. It had agreed to let them pass through, but that didn’t mean it would allow them to displace it from its favorite seat.

“These riverlords sound almost like stuck-up nobles,” Gastores remarked in frustration.

“I’d say they’re easier to deal with,” Sulis answered, with a lyrical laugh. “I couldn’t even get an audience with a noble the last time I tried.”

Nefret looked shocked, and a few other harpies seemed ready to object, but Captain Berenike appeared unlikely to back them up given the smirk she’d let show at the naiad’s words.

“We can’t afford the delay,” Heba said, after a moment. “We’ll never catch the enemy at this rate.”

Other nodded in agreement.

“But even if we press on right now, we still won’t catch up,” Gastores countered. “Not when they have machines like that one. If they’re riding on golems like that then they don’t have to stop and rest.”

“But can we work a… whatever that is?” Berenike asked, frowning as she regarded the half-ruined machine. “How do we know it works at all, with the mess it’s in? The rear end could be totally smashed under all that rock.”

“We can’t know until we get in there and have a look, but if it does it could be exactly what we need to. If not, we can still learn a lot.”

Nefret nodded her head slowly. “Gastores has a point. So far we don’t know so much as the name of this enemy. Any intelligence we can gather could help us. Even remains could tell us a lot.”

“We might find weapons inside too,” Sulis chimed in. “Something to turn against the invaders.”

“Or just find out where they came from,” Berenike said, sounding almost wistful.

With Berenike convinced the others soon agreed, and Gastores had his way.

They would attempt to negotiate with the creature to be allowed to disturb its ‘throne’.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked anxiously, as Sulis walked towards the polluted waters.

He hadn’t considered in his plans that she was the only one present actually able to communicate with the riverlord.

The naiad was no pushover he knew, but even so she looked perilously small, her elegant, curvaceous tentacle-body standing no more than half his height. The perfect size for the awatora to swallow whole….

“I already talked to him once.”

“What if it gets angry and attacks you?”

“I’ll run back here and we’ll kill it together,” she grinned. “Awatora are delicious. The blood is richer than wine.”

Her predatory smirk as she licked her lips reminded Gastores of just how different naiads were to ogres. But even powerful as Sulis was, Gastores couldn’t share her confidence. Encheiro had been confident too….

Worry must have shown on his face, for she reached up with her tendril-fingers to give his hand a squeeze.

“I’ll see you in a minute, Gastores. Just watch from here.”

Watching from a distance as the lone little figure struck up a musical discussion with the huge beast atop its pedestal was nerve-wracking.

Her song-speech resonated out across the waters, but none present could guess at what was being said.

Several times the creature growled, or even loosed a roar in reply to her singing, but when the talk concluded she was able to return to the group unscathed.

“I told you so,” she said, looking pleased with herself.

“What did it say?” Gastores asked, in the middle of grappling with Ripides and another of the ogres. “Let go already, I’m not going anywhere now she’s back!”

“The awatora says that we can have his favorite seat, and he’ll even help us excavate it, if we give our word to punish those responsible for defiling his river.”

“What sort of punishment did it have in mind?” Berenike asked, frowning. “We’re supposed to be a rescue party not a raiding team.”

“I told him that. He sounded quite pleased with the idea that we might steal back the captives from the enemy. The theft of their prey would be a fitting humiliation in his eyes.”

“I hope you told him we have a deal,” Berenike said, smirking.

“Of course,” the naiad replied, grinning back.

“Did he say anything about who the enemy actually are?”

Sulis shook her head.

“He didn’t know any more than us about them, just that they’re from much deeper in the Underworld. As you thought, he was swimming through his river when he was dropped into this cavern and into the middle of the battle. The enemy were already retreating, but they abandoned that machine when the awatora started cutting down formorians and golems alike.”

Berenike looked disappointed, but she nodded.

“He also gave some advice,” Sulis went on, “he warned me to be wary of his kin, who long ago disappeared into the forgotten depths, to swim in the stone.”

“Swim in the stone? How could they do that?” Nefret asked.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t want to keep discussing it - it’s difficult to communicate clearly with awatora using the eclogue. They might just be a myth.”

Berenike shrugged the matter off, her wings waving dismissively. “Even if they’re real, we just need to tell them we don’t mean any harm. But we may not have to go that far down. Now I think we have a golem to excavate.”

Gastores beamed as the Captain turned away to give out orders to the others.

“That was amazing, Sulis! No wonder Lady Feme didn’t want to meet with you, you’d have talked her out of her own roost!”

Sulis gave him a wink.

“I told you to trust me, Gastores.”

With that the group got to work.

Even with the awatora’s assistance, Gastores’ plan wasn’t a trivial one. The floodwaters were still pouring down and much of the machine was buried in the rock from the collapse. There was also the matter of whether the golem was entirely disabled or not.

But between the awatora, Sulis and a few others with suitable magics they were able to hold back the flood, while the others got to work safely dismantling the rubble pile.

What ultimately emerged from the cave-in was a strange machine, not so unlike the formorians who had died attacking it. It was made up of a series of roughly spherical metal segments linked together in a chain, each made up of interlocking triangles, and each with their own sets of articulated legs.

They were dismayed to discover that the rear half of the odd walking golem was pulverized beyond the ability of any present to repair, flattened to two-thirds the proper size by the collapsed ceiling, but the pods at the front seemed intact, and so they could at least investigate those.

Several of them were opened at the sides, triangular panels swung apart on articulated joints, giving easy ingress.

At the ‘head’ of the serpent and along the sides there were a number of spines like weapons, and transparent triangles mixed in with the opaque metal ones, some even bulging out in pyramidal cones with what looked like tiny chairs inside them. Through them fluctuating light could be seen, glowing and fading as if with the heartbeat of a wounded, dying animal.

“What is this thing, Gastores?” Ripides asked uneasily as they looked up at the dome. “Are we sure it’s dead?”

“It was never alive,” he answered authoritatively. “The invaders use machines, remember? It’s like their footsoldiers, some sort of golem that they controlled.”

“That mean there’s someone still inside it?”

“I… don’t know. Maybe. Something had to control it.”

“There were reports from the battle at Grand Chasm of humanoids coming out of some of the damaged attackers,” Berenike said. “The bigger ones in particular. We need to check what’s in there before we start digging around for secrets.”

Berenike herself led a small group, including Gastores, Heba, Ripides and Sulis. The ogre had hoped that the naiad would content herself with proving instrumental in acquiring the wreck in the first place, but far from it, she had insisted on being the first aboard.

He followed close behind her, wading into a flooded cargo space, part of the open pod directly behind the ‘head’. It was lit by what looked to be gemstones, set into the ceiling. A number of metal boxes and mechanical objects were abandoned, some lighter items floating on the grease and blood of the lake surface.

The place was otherwise empty, devoid of corpses or lurking invaders.

Only an ominous bloody smear on the stairwell up into the next chamber indicated the violent end the occupants must have met.

There might have been bodies deeper inside, in whatever passed for the organs of the great golem, but the steps were bizarrely small – to the point that even the tiny Sulis, five foot tall in her humanoid form, couldn’t possibly fit through. In the end she parted her tentacles, returning to her aquatic state to squeeze up the narrow tube.

The other segments further back could be checked by anyone, the expedition members splitting up to investigate them, but with no other naiads in the party, and even the smallest beastfolk present much too large, they could only leave the exploration of the innards of the machine to her.

Berenike and the other Valkyries retreated back outside, to keep an eye on their surroundings – and the awatora. They were still close by, in case Sulis should get into any trouble, but what made Gastores anxious was the thought that even if they heard a shout – or scream – they would take far too long breaking through the bulkheads to be able to do anything for her.

That left the ogres alone in the half-flooded room. Gastores positioned himself as close as he could to the small, bloody stairway.

The two of them sat on the odd balcony of undersized walkways that ringed the cargo bay, almost perfectly suited for ogres to use as benches. They had no way of knowing that the true purpose was docking Skidbladnir.

With nothing to do but wait, they made idle conversation. It was nice to talk about home, about better times back in Chasm. About the fruit harvest and festival time. About family and friends waiting their safe return.

Inexorably the conversation returned to the matter at hand however. The war was impossible to ignore, seated as they were, in the remains of one of the devices of the enemy.

Yet neither of them knew much about who that enemy actually was. Even after surviving the battle for Chasm they had never seen the faces of their foes. They had only the various rumors and theories that had spread in the wake of the attack.

Ripides maintained that they were remnants of the Dweomer Empire, despite the radically different technology. Perhaps, he argued, they lost control of their old golems and were forced out of their olds lands, eventually designing new ones to replace them.

While he had to admit that their foe seemed to have small stature in common with the Dweomer, Gastores wasn’t sure what to make of that idea otherwise. It was at least more plausible than the theory he’d heard before they left Chasm, that their enemies were a rogue faction of Formorians, who transformed their victims into mechanical thralls.

Other options included the driders, allying themselves with a secret cabal of human mages to create new magical weapons as part of a plot to conquer the Harpy Empire through subterfuge. Alternatively, some held that the machines were animated by the spirits, moved by some forgotten Elven magic, or even people of walking fungus and lichen who spread their roots through discarded suits of armor to create soldiers.

Each theory seemed as absurd as the next, especially considering the distinctly humanoid figures which had been seen emerging from the larger damaged golems.

Despite the many questions still unanswered, Ripides seemed confident that the war would be won soon, and peace would return to the Cyclopean Bones. Gastores didn’t share his optimism, but it was oddly refreshing in a way.

“So, Gas, happier stuff. Looks like you finally met your match, huh?” Ripides asked, looking amused.

“What, the riverlord? That’s not the first time I’ve been outmatched. You were in Grand Chasm too.”

The other guard shook his head, chuckling.

“Nah, I mean your toothy new friend.”

“Sulis?!”

“Yeah, I seen how you look at her. Same way you look at the ogre girls back home, only she’s no ogre. Then when she were talking to the riverlord we had to hold you back just to stop you running over there. Don’t think you ever did that for a girl back in Chasm.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s an important friend and an amazing ally. I just didn’t want her to get hurt.”

As he spoke he turned back to the steps, wishing for some sign that the naiad was alright in there.

“Here I thought you were the smart one.”

“What are you trying to say, Ripides?”

“You almost got yourself killed saving her once already, and now the two of you are giggling at each other and winking like no-one else got an eye to see it. It’s obvious you like each other!”

Gastores’ head snapped around at the words.

“You… you think she likes me too? Like that I mean?”

Ripides burst out laughing.

“Ughh, alright, you got me. I like her. She seems great, smart and interesting and fun, and definitely very unusual... but… she’s a naiad and I’m an ogre…. Does that even work?”

“For a playboy you’re pretty dense you know, Gastores.”

“Hey, I’m not like that! I’ve had a few girlfriends, sure, but I was always faithful! Just because I like dating doesn’t mean I’m some sort of… of… philanderer!”

“Glad to hear it.” Sulis laughed, slipping from the stairwell and reforming her humanoid shape.

Ripides burst into raucous guffaws as Gastores felt his cheeks burning.

Somehow the naiad made him feel like a clueless kid all over again.

“Did you….”

“Hear everything?” she asked, smirking. “Yes, Gastores, I like you too. Like that.”

The blush around her cheeks that accompanied the confession was enough to make Gastores melt, but there was no chance to talk about it.

“Sulis?” Berenike asked, poking her head back into the bay. “Good, you’re back. What did you find up there?”

“No people, humanoid or otherwise. Looks like they left in a hurry. There’s food and personal things lying around and it seems like they left the golem activated – the controls are all lit up, they even responded when I pressed them. I could open and close doors in the head of the golem.”

“They probably evacuated as fast as they could once it got pinned in place.” Berenike said. “What about the layout? Any clues there?”

“The front pod has most of the controls. It also has a big chamber with gemstones in it, like a heart, and a lot of living space. Whatever the enemy are, they’re definitely humanoid, but very short; about a foot at most.”

“Anything like an armory? Or weapons left out?”

I didn’t find any, but I wasn’t looking.”

“Why not?”

“I found something better. A way to unhook individual pods.”

“You don’t mean….”

“Why not? It could take us weeks to catch the enemy on foot. Why not use their own strider to chase them down? There’s enough cargo space for several times our numbers. We can take our time examining it on the way too.”

Sulis had a dangerous grin as she spoke, but Gastores wasn’t sure whom it would prove dangerous for.