[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]

Serith waded into the fiery red, finding himself lost among the uncountable glitters - the crest of every ripple catching the light of the blaze.

At least it’s not cold.

Splashing came from behind, Terlethe, Lucia, and Chendren following after. Serith continued to walk, the water rising first to his ankles, then knees. As it began to lick his thighs, he broke forward, leaping headlong and submerging his entire torso, though he kept his head just barely above the medium. The flow was predictably rancid, as cities fouled whatever rivers passed through them, but it was by no means the worst the Naga Scryers had swam in.

“Center channel!”

“Understood-”

“-Understood-”

“-Understood!”

The responses came quick and clipped, once-professional soldiers never quite losing their edge. All were former members of the Holy Kingdom of Roble’s now-defunct Marines Corps, their service in the merchant fleet having taken them north. Serith began to breaststroke then rolled his hips onto the side in the direction of flow, scissoring his legs back and forth. With a dozen pulses, he had pushed himself to the center of the river, letting himself become caught by it and be thrust downstream. With one last stroke, he suddenly went limp, ceasing all movement as he allowed his limbs to sink freely. The water slowly rolled him over onto his chest, the leathers of his legs and arms dragging them down. As the water came anigh to his head, he pinched his left eye shut, slowly turning and placing that side of his face down into the water; the interface bisected his nose and mouth, whose right side he left open to breath. The beats behind him soon went dead, and he knew his fellows had done the same.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Serith began to judge his speed and distance to either bank, picking a light standard on the farshore and counting as it passed.

Third of a chain, at least.

The water battered his sides, slowly needling him downstream. The reds at the top of his vision grew brighter, objects on the shore showing in more and more light as he drifted down, until it looked near to day. Then came a brightness in the vertical periphery, profane whites, furious crimsons, and sickly greens mixing in a wavering tower of flame. He struggled to keep himself from kicking, taming a base sense - doubly strong among sailors - that fire was a thing to be feared.

It won’t burn. Lady Aindra tested this. It won’t burn.

He held his wits, those trailing him as well, making no motion as the water dragged him further into the barrier. The light grew brighter, reflections off the water’s folds dazzling his eyes as he drew near and went into radiance. He blinked once then was through, the wall of flame falling behind him much too fast. They were in.

Here we go.

The blaze seemed to curl up along his vision, akin to a great ramp that ran to the bank, slipped through the building beyond, and finally soared up to the sky above. He caught two things darting up there in silhouette, the rapid way they sunk between each beat of their wings producing an erratic flight as they jinked and flitted out of sight. The shore was as empty as that upstream, though what structures stood upon it had been defaced; somemerely had their windows shattered and their doors torn off, but others were wholesale collapsed in. Serith again made to range himself to the shore, eyes settling on a ruined cart set on fire.

Closer, quarter-chain.

Suddenly, the base of flame widened, with a portion of it breaking away in a shower of sparks on what seemed to be two legs. The flame disgorged several more such motes an instant later, the lot of the little creatures scrambling after one another. Two immediately lost interest, one bolting down an alley, the other leaping over the counter of a small street stall, but the rest kept after. One of the flames, legs lankier than the others - though it rose no higher than a toddler - swiftly outpaced the stubby frontrunner, stretching out two licks of flame. They reached the cart, taking hold of it and lifting it off the ground, forcefully swinging it round and tossing it into the river, where it struck and violently winked out with a sizzle. The creatures seemed to surge in celebration, whistle-like cheers coming from the bank, before they scattered in all directions.

Serith rose his eye, straining to look at the bank further downstream. The dense wall of shorefront buildings sharply broke away and was replaced by wide, open air stacks of crates. There he caught the first larger thing prowling, a hunched, gray demon three-quarters the height of a man dragging a rod that clacked against the ground. The piled crates soon curved away, revealing a much too wide and empty dockyard that brimmed with the enemy. More of the gray creatures came into view, pairs lugging away crates using two of the rods he had seen the first wielding, but there were other varieties as well: a great, frog-like thing seemed to probe a barrel with his tongue, before coiling around it and drawing it into its mouth to swallow whole; a much too tall man covered in spikes carrying a pallet with both arms; a swarm of little red creatures commanding a crane driven not by the labor of donkeys, but of oversized rottweilers whose mouths glowed with angry heat; a marching triplet of beetle-headed warriors, their carapaces with the luster of brass.

Count twelve- sixteen- nineteen- twenty- twenty-two- dammit! More.

The numbers were bad. Even if most were of the smaller varieties, the more foes, the more chances to slip up and let a strike through. Serith kept his face from grimacing, keeping as still as he possibly could. A great crackling came from ahead, scrambled by the water surface. A few more seconds of drifting revealed a river barge set ablaze, with flaming detritus breaking away into the river, bobbing and halfways dousing. Another of the fire spirits was balancing on a piece, puffs of steam spewing into the air whenever the water licked it. Serith went stiff, tensing his whole body to keep its exact position, and gave no sign that he was not just another object in the river. He stopped breathing, passing the desperate creature as it fought to keep cleaved to the wavering plank. It went out of sight a moment later, Serith losing a little of his rigidity as he slowly inhaled.

The emptiness of the shore lots began to disappear, unloaded cargo becoming more common as the docks turned then swiftly changed back into regular cityscape. He chanced a slight look ahead, curling his neck to cast his gaze downstream. There, catching the long trails of its reflection, was his target

Twenty paces.

It was a large, three-span bridge, cobblestone arches jutting out from either bank five paces into the river, between which was a large moving element made from the cores of logs. Affixed to trunnions on either side, each half of the center span could lift, pivoting upward as would a drawbridge. Closed hooks were sunk into each corner of the breakpoint, thick rope tied around each, running back to pulleys at the top of columns extending from the pillars sunk into the river; coming round, the rope stretched to either shore, there coiling around winches driven by beasts of burden via wheels and pinions. The drawbridge was open, a great gap from side to side.

Seeing his bearing, he again began to move, sinking lower into the water and rolling onto his side. Flexing his abdomen back, he gave another slow pulse of his legs, pushing himself just enough further for his momentum to carry him into the furthest arch from the shore he launched from. He scanned the bridge top, spying two quartets of the beetle creatures on either side, as well as a distended gray man on the near half - the match of the tall thing from before, though on its fours. The banks nearby were empty, no compliments of fiends on either side. Turning around fully, he looked back to the bank he had launched from, catching an errant glint from the second floor window, the wavering flash of a signal mirror. Raising his right hand just out of the water, he shot battlesigns for his comrades to see.

“Friendlies. Confirmed. Enemy. Four. Infantry. One. Heavy. Attack. Bridge. Pincer.”

The mirror wavered one last time and then disappeared. He turned back to the bridge, now only five paces away. As he approached, his vision crept around the near pillar, and he saw something he oughtn’t to. There, hanging on the abutment, was a large mass, black and spined. He shot out his legs, thrusting them into the mud below to kill his speed, his comrade to his left doing the same. The mass distended, a thin shadowy line blocking out the sky behind; it was an arm, at which the end was a wand.

“Halt.”

Serith’s words emerged as a whisper, but they did nothing. The wand fired into the air, a harsh, screaming streak of angry white drawn across the glowing sky. Something roiled in the mud beneath, and then what seemed to be a dozen snakes whipped around Lucia, and pulled him under.

“Ambush!”

The water was moving fast, Serith losing his focus in the haste of the moment and allowing himself to be flipped back forward in the water, now under the bridge. Great thrashing to his left, Lucia lost in a melee with something squamous. A horned eel-like head whipped above the water, needle teeth convulsing as it dragged in a chunk of flesh. He wrenched his leg from the mud, kicking from the abutment to send him deeper into the river. The spined creature unfurled from the wall, a cross between a man and an urchin. Drawing his shortsword, he broke it from the water in time for the thing to leap. He caught a flash of beady red eyes and then was overtopped by the thing, both combatants being sent underwater.

At once, two things happened: a dozen needles thrust into his breast, his leathers pierced by them in three places; a wondrous crack came, feeling his blade jolt and then sink into the thing. It raged, clawing at his arms and doing its best to shred him. He wrenched his sword, turning it to widen whatever seem he had made in the creature’s shell; planting his boot on the shuddering thing, he wrenched further, cracking it more, before its left side broke off entirely, only held by strings of its gore. With this, its struggle stopped entirely, and Serith was able to push it out and off of him, jets of pain as its spines left him.

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He surfaced, stealing his first gulp of air for the last thirteen seconds. Getting his bearings, he realized he had been dragged past the bridge, now on the downstream side of it. Shooting his head upstream, he saw the horned eel still held Lucia, turning over in the water with such force and speed that he thought there was no chance of Lucia’s survival. Terlethe and Chendren were shaken, watching the violence stunned. A splashing noise came from Serith’s right; he turned his head to catch a rapidly advancing wake from the other shore, the slithering of more eel creatures.

He’s done for. A damn shame.

“Ascend! Ascend now!”

His comrades were broken from their spell, quickly making to the pillar on the other side and climbing. He gripped onto his, planting a foot on the cobble and scrambling up. The stone was wet, his legs slipping off. The splashing came closer, the horns of two other eel demons poking out of the water advancing far too fast. In desperation, Sereth sheathed his weapon, freeing both his hands to climb. Finding a grip, he tugged himself up, pulling his torso wholly out of the water, then his legs. A twang cracked from almost directly above, he reflexively swelling his energies to pull himself just out of the way of a bolt. It whizzed past to plink into the water below, and he craned his neck to see what had loosed it. Another pair of red eyes met him, one of the beetle demons that had gone to the bridge's edge armed with a crossbow. It reloaded and found a bead far too fast, Serith unable to push off the pillar for a second dodge lest he fall into coiling.

Then, the beetle’s head caved inward, a spew blowing out the back as an arrow flew through it. A second followed a moment later, Serith tracing it back to the opposite shore, where the archer from Headless Rabbit nocked and loosed a third. The beetle demon slumped, then fell over the edge and past him into the water below. The horned-eels below set upon it, either ignorant or uncaring of the fact that it was an ally; they fed on it just the same, thrashing just as the other had with Lucia. Serith continued to climb, leaping up a few more stones. A bang came from the right. He looked in time to catch a second firebolt landing true on the opposite bridge’s near rope, severing its flaming edges and sending that half of the bridge down. One of the urchin aberrations hung near the hinge; Serith heard a satisfying crunch as the creature was crushed and pulped by the mechanism.

Serith reached up once more, wrapping his hand around the bannister and dragging himself over. Swinging out onto the bridge, he took a reckoning and saw his teammates had already made o’ertop their leg. Chendren kicked a beetle off of her sword, having already slaked herself on it, while Terlethe loaded and loosed his own crossbow at the enemy. The two surviving beetle creatures had retreated to the center, forming a rank in front of the crawling gray man. Serith drew his weapon again, slipping to his side pocket and drawing a vial. Popping off the cork with his thumb, he doused his blade in its contents - a vorpal poison.

“Advance! Cut the ropes!”

The three stepped forward, advancing on the enemy swiftly. The two beetle demons returned their crossbows, instead reaching to their sides to withdraw coiled cylinders. With their oversized hands, they thumbed their rods, each suddenly springing out to a full length spear. Terlethe reached to his side then threw a bulbous glass bottle at the two. The far beetle demon swung its weapon, striking and shattering it in the air. Its contents immediately ignited, a flume of flaming spew falling upon the enemy. Odd noises came, which Serith figured were cries of pain. The gray man splayed out its arms, falling to the ground and gripping the sides of its head, groaning as it did.

The two beetle creatures split, leveling their spears and advancing on both Serith and his comrades. He dropped into a stance, as did his opposite, the demon making two probing thrusts with its spear. He backed away from both, then broke forward round the left of the spear, jinking his blade past it to get inside measure. The creature did not retreat, instead swinging its weapon like a staff, and struck him from the side with fantastic strength. He was sent off his feet into the railing, and, an instant later, found himself pinned against it. He shot out his off hand, gripping the haft of the weapon and doing everything he could to push it off. It nudged and he slipped out, continuing to hold it back as he kept moving. The fiend thumbed the weapon again, the haft suddenly leaping back and shredding his hand.

Swelling his energies again, he dodged the spear’s sudden uncoiling, closing the distance and slaking himself on the creature, doubling the tip of his weapon as he slipped it in. It chittered and rattled its mandibles; a viscous, green fluid poured from the wound. It dropped its weapon, which limply struck at him with his fist, before he shoved its head away with his ruined hand and pushed it off his blade. Snapping to his comrades, he saw they had dealt with their enemy, its chest having been eaten away by a solvent bolt. The gray creature was still pressing its hands into either side of its head, queerly scraping its face against the ground. Serith gave a quick sign, and the three ran around either side of the lanky thing. Dashing to the spot where the rope met the winch, he raised his blade above his head and smote with all his force. His sword struck, not slicing through, nor embedding in the rope, but snapping in two.

What?!

He looked on in amazement and horror, realizing his blade was still covered in the beetle’s innards, which seemed to slough off shard after shard of his weapon. Though the splatter seemed to have no effect on his leathers, he panickedly wiped it off anyway, disarming himself and moving to draw his gambler’s dagger. Dropping to his knee, he reached with his off hand without thinking, only receiving a jolt of pain as he remembered it had been ruined. Looking at it, he saw each of his fingers had been broken, the final knuckles of both his pinkie and ring finger hanging on only by his skin. He cringed at the sight, but before he could reach around to grab it with his dexter, a moan came from behind.

Snapping ‘round, he saw the gray man had become more violent in its motion, swinging its hips back and forth as it ground its face into the cobblestone. Suddenly, it jerked its head up, then began to thump the ground with it, its moan wavering with each strike. It stopped and then slowly drew itself up, not standing proper, but half-cocked from the ground. Its moan began to change into a shriek, and as it righted itself to a full two paces in height, it began to pound on its chest, the over-exaggerated swings of its arms sending its torso from side to side as would a child lost in play.

Serith felt something was very wrong, and made to sever the rope as quick as he could. He hacked at it with his knife, a few strands splaying with every stroke. The gray man broke from the spot, making two drunken strides over to his comrades. Before Serith could yell, it grabbed Chendren by her head and shoulder, then whipped her up over its head, using so much force it stumbled. It then reversed, bashing her against the ground with a sickening squelch. It then did so again, raising her up over its head and driving her back into the ground, and then again, and then again, and so many times after Serith lost count. The nauseousness of battle came over him, a feeling he could never get accustomed too. He sawed with all his force, scant pieces of the rope flaying, but not fast enough.

With one final swing up, Chendren’s form lost its constitution, splitting at the middle, then flying apart on the down swing, lower half overtopping the bannister to fall into the river below. The gray man then dropped back into its arms and hands, opening a far too-tall-maw to swallow up her arm. Pinning her torso to the ground, it jerked back twice, scraping off her flesh with its teeth. Serith stole a glance back to the rope, and to his shock, saw a slimy, pitch colored hand reaching at him between the columns of the bannister. He started, ripping his hand away as it groped at him. It missed and slipped back, the hand and then a second coiling round a column and growing taut as one of the horned eels pulled itself up and over. It flipped out onto the bridge, somehow finding its footing on the stone beneath, a second and third following the moment after.

Damn this! What now?!

Serith was panicked. His force had fallen directly into an ambush, been cut down to half its size, and had now been bayed off from its objective; the enemy was receiving reinforcements, and counted among its numbers terrifying foe he had no answer for; he was down his weapon and wounded twice over. He cried.

“Flash! Flash!”

Terlethe understood the order, smashing a second vial down on his rope, setting the ground ablaze with sticky, phlogistonated fluid. He made to lob a third but lost his arm in the process; the gray man had lurched toward him and bitten it off. The two were caught in the explosion, shrapnel and flesh splaying in all directions. Serith stepped back, then again, lost to his course.

What in the name of the Gods do I do!? Do I pull back?! I have to!

He stepped back one more time, planted his ruined hand on the banister and jumped onto it. With both feet on the railing and left hand on the column, he looked into the waters below and made to leap, before realizing the stupidity of the decision.

No, the eels would just get me! Shit!

Even if he were to swim as rapidly as he could, the horned eels were creatures of the water, and would undoubtedly catch him. His mind seized, taken by the cold fear that he wouldn’t be able to escape this night. A noise came from behind, followed by a great bang as the near half of the drawbridge shuddered. He turned back and saw that the other rope had burned through, flaming end whipping off into the night.

If I am to live, I need to get this bridge down.

Serith looked to the right, the horned eels shambling toward him as best they could on land, interposed between him and the rope’s downstroke. He traced the rope up to the pulley affixed to the top of the pillar he was now bracing against and snapped into action immediately, swapping his knife into his mouth and embracing the column. He got a grip and swung round the outside, getting the stonework between him and the enemy, then shimmied up. It was not slick, but the crag was smaller, the dredged cobble with fewer gaps and handholds.

He reached his left hand up, trying to curl two fingers around a stone and failing, slipping with a spike of pain. Recognizing his hand was useless, he doubled his off arm back at the elbow, cleaving it to the wall and using it to break as he scrambled up with his right. With several strokes, he fought himself up a pace, then two. The gray man was lost in an agonized wail, rolling back and forth along the ground as fire burned both inside and out. A sudden tug came from beneath, and he looked down to see that one of the eel creatures had caught his left leg. He did not kick; instead, he pulled himself up with all his force, lifting the creature off of its foothold. Its hand was too slick, and it slipped off, knocking both it and its compatriot behind it down into the water.

He fought up, clearing distance from the ground faster than his lone pursuer could. Within another fifteen seconds, he crested the column, snatching the dagger from his mouth and setting it upon the rope, drawing it back and forth as fast as he could. The gray man cried again, leaping back onto his fours and scrambling toward the pillar. It planted one hand on the far side, then a second much too far up. Serith kept going, arm aflame. The gray man made another leap up, its distended hand grabbing both the pillar and remaining horned eel alike, crushing it in its grip. Serith stopped sawing, instead pulling his knife back and hacking at the rope with two empowered slashes in quick succession. With a fourth swing of its arms, the gray man’s fingers crested the column.

Serith slashed a third time and severed the rope. It snapped, flying away in both directions as the raised element lost its last support and fell back onto the river below. It struck with a great slam, and the gray man went to grip its head in pain. Then, from the right, came three streaking shards of light, spellfire from the mage of Headless Rabbit.

“Charge!”

Serith looked to see another arrow fly, smashing into the gray man and disgorging bolts of lightning. It seized and fell back onto the bridge with a scream, smote by more spellfire and the blows of their frontlining brute. Before he knew, the thing fell in two, a sizzling as its midsection fell apart and spewed white smoke. The wizard raised his arm and shot up a flair into the night, not the white of the enemy’s, but a verdant green.