The whinny of a horse woke Ceren.
She sat up with a start and banged her head on the roof of her shelter. Her body ached from the strain of the past couple of days. She shivered with cold but was glad to see the rain had stopped. The gray light of pre-dawn had replaced the darkness, and the air was crisp. Her breath clouded in front of her face when she exhaled.
She peered through the brush to see two men riding up the trail past where she lay concealed. That was a lucky spin of the Wheel. She was saved.
Even as she opened her mouth to call out to them, the words froze on her lips. The two men wore crimson robes.
Shadeleeches.
A gigantic makrasha marched into view behind them, followed by many more, all marching in silence, their breath billowing around them in steamy clouds.
Ceren pressed herself down to the damp earth, biting her lip to suppress a whimper of fear. Questions multiplied in her mind but she lacked the information to answer them. One rose to the fore.
Had they killed Kevlin?
The creatures marched past without slowing. Ceren was amazed at the number of the beasts, but she did not spot the shadeleech from the inn, or Rhea, or Dhanjal.
It had to be a separate group. Were they an advance guard, clearing the way for the rest to make their escape? She frowned as she considered the possibilities, none of which were encouraging.
The trail led toward the highway, but she doubted that company would risk the open road. Even if they killed every traveler they encountered, they would be discovered eventually.
Several minutes after they all passed, Ceren crawled out of her hiding place and moved to the middle of the trail to look after them. She drew her sword and considered her options.
A growl behind her made her spin. Three paces away, filling the trail with its terrifying bulk and making horrible clicking sounds with its teeth, stood a makrasha. Its sword was already raised and it stared at her with flat green eyes.
It opened its huge maw and roared, giving her a clear view of rows of sharp teeth and two long fangs glinting with poison. Its heavy, musky scent filled the air, and its breath smelled like a cesspit.
The creature lunged for her, both hengaruk extending to grab her with their stubby, clawed fingers. Ceren scuttled to the side and slashed at one grasping hengaruk, slicing the disgusting hand from the end of the tri-segmented limb. The makrasha howled and swung a heavy overhand blow that would have split her like a melon.
She dodged again, and the sword thundered into the ground next to her, burying itself a foot into the soft earth. The creature stumbled forward, so close its stench made her want to vomit.
It tried grabbing her again, but she slashed her sword across its insect-like eyes. They burst, spurting green liquid into her face, and she couldn’t suppress a shriek of disgust as she backed away.
Unable to see, it howled in pain, then barreled forward, arms outstretched. The crippled beast raced past her and collided with a tree. Ceren gulped as it crashed to the ground. If she’d been standing a little closer, it might have grabbed her and killed her even when blinded.
Loud grunting noises from farther up the trail spun her around. More makrasha appeared around the distant corner and howled when they caught sight of her. They fired crossbows, then charged.
With a scream, Ceren dove off the trail and sprinted into the forest. Driven by terror, only one thought beat in her mind.
Run!
The entire forest shook behind her as makrasha crashed through the heavy brush. They growled and clicked and shouted, and the sounds of pursuit drove her on faster. She flew through the woods like a deer, flowing around trees and brush that her pursuers had to trample or hack through to follow.
She ceased to think. Nothing mattered but running farther and faster than the creatures hunting for her blood. Gradually the makrasha fell behind, unable to match her breakneck pace. She smiled, a feral grin of victory.
The forest to her right erupted in flame and the heat blasted her exposed skin. After the deep chill from earlier, the difference felt wonderful, and she laughed aloud.
The danger was all too clear. Shadeleeches had joined the pursuit.
As an intelligent, educated noblewoman, she had been taught to scoff at the wild tales of horror told of the shadeleeches. Racing through the early morning wilderness, pursued by a hundred makrasha and a pair of shadeleeches intent on turning the forest into her funeral pyre, she no longer doubted even the wildest stories.
Another blast of fire ignited the forest to her left, so close that moisture evaporated from her slicker in a puff of steam. Sweat poured down her reddened face, but she could do nothing but run harder still.
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Smoke blinded and choked and burned in her lungs. The taste of ash filled her mouth, and the fire roared like thunder as it crackled on both sides, consuming the wet forest till all was obscured in heavy, black smoke.
Then she ran off a cliff.
Ceren screamed, arms and legs flailing, as she plummeted toward the churning surface of a river thirty feet below. She struck the fast-moving water, sinking deep, her sweating body assaulted by the brutal cold of the water.
She struggled upward, desperate to reach the surface and escape the river's icy embrace. Though hampered by the weight of her sword, she would never consider letting it go.
A few seconds later she surfaced, the force of her last kick driving her half out of the water. She gulped for air and rolled onto her back to sheath her sword. She slipped off her pack while it still retained some buoyancy.
This section of the river flowed rapidly through the deep cut in the earth she had run off of. It was already sweeping her around a bend that blocked her view of the thick smoke rising into the early morning sky. The intense cold leeched the warmth from her overheated muscles. The near shore was too steep to climb, and the far shore looked little better.
Growing up in the coastal city of Agoraeun, she was an accomplished swimmer. If the water wasn’t so cold, she could stay afloat as long as she needed to, but if she didn’t escape its icy embrace soon, the uncaring river would finish what the makrasha had failed to do.
The pack wouldn't stay afloat for long, so she salvaged what she could. She slipped a couple of apples into the pockets of her slicker, along with the purse of coins Kevlin had given her. If she survived to Ingolf, she could purchase whatever else she needed.
The only other item worth saving was the healer’s case. Its tight seal guaranteed it would float. She scavenged a strap from the larger pack and used it to secure the case over one shoulder. Then she floated on her back, trying to conserve her waning strength.
A minute later she spotted a huge pile of brush jammed against some large rocks, and kicked in that direction. Timing was crucial as she angled across the current to intersect the jam. She needed to get close enough to grab hold of something without getting dragged under.
She lined herself up carefully, but an unexpected eddy swept her in closer, threatening to drive her into the center of the pile. She struggled to swim clear, but the current proved too strong.
Despite her frantic clawing at the slippery wood along the edge of the pile, the water swept her under a heavy branch and into darkness. She raised one arm to prevent her head from crashing into the logs as the water rolled her under the mass of branches.
The current drove her onward, smashing her into the thick end of another log, and the impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Stars sparkled in the darkness around her, and she barely held on to consciousness.
I can’t die like this!
She was an excellent swimmer, but that didn’t matter. As a girl, she’d seen a friend drown when waves drove her under an overhanging rock. The current tumbled Ceren past the log and drove her deeper under the log jam. Her lungs screamed for air, panic threatening to overwhelm her.
Helpless against the force of the river, she crashed into the face of a large boulder. She hung there, pressed against the solid rock for three heartbeats. One wildly kicking foot pushed against another rock below her. She pushed off and slid up the boulder face. With the slight change of position, the water caught her differently and shot her up along the sloping face of the stone. She collided with the massed tangle of wood, her head smacking into a protruding branch.
The branch snapped and her head burst through the surface of the water. She gulped a sweet mouthful of air before coughing up water. She gripped the branches to maintain her precarious position. The force of the current was less there, but if she went under again, she doubted she'd ever surface.
Only her head rose out of the water. The intertwining branches blocked further access. She had to climb higher before her strength failed, but the gap was too narrow even for her slender shoulders. She fumbled for her dagger with numb, sluggish fingers and almost dropped it. Finally, with the blade firmly in hand, she hacked at the branches blocking her way, but they seemed made of iron.
“I can do this!” she screamed, hacking at the wood with desperate strength.
A branch broke. She struck again, and another gave way. It took several more minutes to widen the gap enough to worm her way through. Weeping with exhaustion, and ignoring the scratches from the branches, she hauled her body out of the water until she lay in the midst of the log jam.
As she lay shivering from cold and the emotional drain of nearly drowning in the nameless river, she closed her eyes, just for a second, to gather her strength.
# # #
Ceren awoke several hours later, cramped and shivering. The river roared just below, and her soaked clothing dripped from the constant spray. The tiny den smelled of fish and rotting wood. The dense tangle blocked most of the light, leaving her in a constant twilight. She spit out bits of bark that left a taste like acorns in her mouth.
Her battered body ached, but she forced herself to explore the wooden prison. It took half an hour, and a lot of hacking with her dagger, before she broke free of the brush and climbed out onto the top of the pile. She rested for a few minutes, gnawing on one of the apples still in her pocket with a jaw so numb she could barely close it over the icy fruit.
She opened the green leather healer’s case with fingers shaking from cold. The seal had held and no water penetrated inside, so at least she’d gotten one positive spin of the Wheel. She pulled out the small jar with the copper-colored stopper and worked the cork free. Lacking a cup, she measured several drops of the thick liquid into her palm and licked it into her mouth with a grimace. It tasted terrible, but it would dull the pain.
Next she extracted another, smaller bottle with a bright red stopper. She carefully measured a single drop of golden liquid into her palm and licked that too. A wave of heat shivered through her, and she gasped with ecstasy. Energy coursed through her, burning away fatigue and pain as if the past few harrowing days had never happened. Her senses sharpened and she felt more alert than ever.
Re-stoppering the bottle, she smiled and tucked it away. Extract of Zindagi was a powerful stimulant, but extremely dangerous. The addictive potion might induce the feeling of strength, but the effect was only a mask. Zindagi allowed one to push their body far beyond its normal limit. If abused, a person could literally run themselves to death.
Given the situation, it was worth the risk.
With renewed strength, Ceren clambered over the brush pile and in less than an hour assembled a cluster of large branches. Using skills she learned as a girl, she wove the branches together into a raft. She pushed the makeshift craft into the current, leapt aboard, and lay in the center. The river whisked her downstream. The raft shuddered in the current, but held.
This river should empty into the Nagendra, which would carry her to Ingolf. If Harafin hadn't already passed through the town, she'd ride south to meet him. As the river bore her around the next bend she grinned with fierce pride.
“I can do this.”