Chapter 376: They Which Come From Beneath

The biggest man Llyworn had ever seen came surging from the murky depths, seized the edge of their dugout, and pulled hard, before she could even react.

The boat shifted violently to the left, groaned then capsized like a toy boat in a storm. With a strangled cry, the witches hurtled over the sides.

Llyworn plunged deep beneath the surface and into the murky depths, gasping when she hit the frigid water. What saved her from aspirating was the Orb of Air around her head, and she thanked the spirits even as she frantically prayed for their help. Swampwater rose, she sank lower, fighting rising panic; the last thing she saw above the water was Darkwing desperately shooting from the sky toward her.

Then, frigid, murky water enveloped her. Waving, plant life reached for her, tangling her cloak as it spread like a sail. She flailed, terror gripping her, her father’s diving lessons fleeing her mind. Llyworn kicked and grabbed for the surface, kicking up mud, silt and weeds. Swampwater grew murkier from each frantic movement.

‘Spirits help me, I can’t see!’ Panic took her mind.

‘Calm down or you’ll die! Calm down and find the others. Call Darkwing!’ she snapped at herself.

Fighting fear, Llyworn began chanting…

…as a pair of gloved hands reached from behind and clamped her mouth shut. A pair of legs wrapped around hers.

Terror surged, she struggled against them, trembling from panic and cold, but her captor held tight, she couldn’t escape. A breath later, rope and murky water slid between her teeth, she gagged as gloved hands tied it tight.

There’d be no spells for her now.

That iron strength spun her around, bringing her face to face with a young woman she could barely make out in the turbid water.

A young woman who snarled like a starving wolf.

###

Nearby, Alex swam up to the man with the axe while Cedric, Hart and Theresa were restraining the others floundering in the frigid water. The axe wielder was panicking, swinging his axe in every direction and screaming into his Orb of Air. Alex moved behind him, grabbed his wrist mid-swing and yanked the axe from his hand.

The man’s agitation grew, he kicked the water, trying to stay afloat while clawing at the Fool who immediately dropped the axe. He could just imagine the Mark deciding it was more ‘weapon’ than ‘tool’ right when he was underwater with a volatile, struggling man who’d probably like nothing better than to drown him. So, he grabbed the man’s face, and took his rope out to bind him.

His opponent lunged, but Alex spun, dove below the man, surfaced behind him, then looped the rope around his torso, pulling it taut. His adversary fought his capture, but couldn’t match Alex’s strength. In heartbeats he was subdued and being dragged up to the water’s surface.

Alex’s Orb of Air split the muddy surface, and he inhaled…only to be greeted with a face full of angry duck.

“Argh! Sic that thing, Bubbles!”

The water elemental emerged from below, blasting the bird with a cascade of water, driving it toward the bottom of the swamp. The duck righted itself and shot for the surface, but just as it took flight, Alex plucked the flapping waterbird from the air and bound it like he was trussing it for Sigmus dinner.

Soon, Theresa, Cedric and Hart surfaced with captives in tow; the Chosen had actually grabbed two, his morphic weapon ringed one of them, squeezing tighter the more they squirmed.

He laughed, his golden tooth shining in the morning light. “Bloody hell, it was worth the cool dip, wouldn't cha say? We caught all of ‘em.”

“Great plan, Theresa,” Alex smiled. “They were so busy watching what was happening above, they didn't think about what could be happening below.”

Sitting on the tarp in the bottom of Baelin’s boat a few yards away, Drestra, Brutus and Claygon watched. The Sage had already dismissed a force shield spell she’d positioned over herself and the cerberus, protecting them against any attack on the boat…but an attack never came since the enemy had abruptly found themselves over their heads in swampwater. Her eyes took in her companions and the prisoners, then she sighed, a long tired sound. “Good. You did catch them. Are any of you hurt?” She called.

“Just cold,” Theresa said, swimming toward the boat. “Let’s get these people on board so we can get out of this water. Your spell makes it bearable, but not exactly pleasant. But, I’m not complaining. Look at the prisoners!”

“Yes, hurry back, they’re turning blue!” The Sage said. “You have some protection from the cold water, but they don’t.”

She pointed at the captives; all were trembling, some were still fighting their gags and struggling against their bonds, but others were shaking so hard, their movements were jerky and their complexions greying.

The duck, of course, was perfectly fine, still pecking at Alex with its bound bill.

“Right, don’ want ‘em freezin’ before we get a chance ta’ have a little chat with ‘em,” Cedric said, swimming for the boat

“Yeah,” Alex followed close behind, his mind already working on a new problem.

‘We have prisoners, and there are ways to get them to talk’, but we’d probably rather not use them’, he thought. ‘But how’re we going to get them to talk, then? If I was them, I’d just keep my mouth shut as soon as the gag came off. Actually, their spellcasters’ll probably try casting a quick spell as soon as their gags are off, but that’s okay, a booby-trapped mana-soothing potion will put a stop to that. Still, what’s to stop them from just shutting up? And if they don’t talk, what can we do to make them?’

He knew what Baelin and Grimloch would suggest, but…well, he’d cross that bridge only if there’s no other way to find out what happened to Drestra’s kin.

The questioning problem turned over in his mind as he watched the others swim to the boat.

‘Claygon,’ he thought. ‘Thanks for being a diversion, buddy, would you mind helping people back into the boat?’

Drestra startled as the golem stood up and flew away, hovering above the water using Drestra’s flight spell. Their back up plan—if they were spotted—was for Claygon to fly at the dugout, grab the archers and flip their boat over. But that was more of a contingent plan. It would have been messy and there was no way the people in the boat wouldn’t have seen him coming then started spellcasting and making a lot of racket and alerting every cultist in earshot. Which would have meant a fight and nobody left alive to interrogate.

Fortunately, it hadn’t come to that.

‘Everything’s going as smooth as—’ Alex began a thought as he watched his golem hoist Theresa, Hart—and their prisoners—into Baelin’s boat.

Drestra immediately began casting spells of warming on the prisoners, raising their body temperatures. Hypothermia wasn’t part of the plan if they wanted them to live, but as she warmed them, the look on her face could have frozen them.

“It really is you…what in all hells is going on, Llyworn?” the Sage scowled at the other witch. “What’re you doing out here? Why aren’t you trying to get back to the village?”

Cedric and Alex swam for the boat as Claygon flew toward them.

‘Huh, that was kinda dumb,’ he thought. ‘ We should’ve had Drestra cast flying spells on all of us too. Then we could’ve just flown the prisoners to the boat after we grabbed them. Ugh, tension really makes you miss things—’

Theresa had gone stock-still, only her head moved, her eyes scanning the area like an owl.

Brutus jumped up barking, sniffing the air frantically, his hackles raised.

Hart’s attention left his prisoner, turning to the swamp around them, his large eyes examined the trees.

A crawling feeling snaked up Alex’s spine; like someone’s gaze was on him, watching him with eyes free of humanity.

Theresa’s head suddenly stopped tracking. Her eyes went wide and her bow seemed to leap into her hand as quickly as a single word left her lips.

“Demon!”

Alex whirled, spinning the prisoner and catching a shimmer of movement just above the trees. A small, angry imp glared down from the sky.

Its shriek pierced the silence when Theresa’s arrow slammed into its chest.

More movement came from the trees below, Alex’s senses tingled as mana built. A sudden flash of light illuminated the trunks.

“Oh shi—” He dove, dragging his prisoner beneath the water.

Rays of orange coloured the air and water.

Impact.

There was little left of his prisoner; two beams had struck him, one in the head and one in the chest, and the water stained red.

The young wizard untied the mangled corpse while sending mental directions to Claygon.

‘Attack!’ he thought. ‘Find whoever’s shooting at us and stop them!’

A shadow passed overhead as Claygon flew toward their assailants. Alex cursed: his pack was in the boat, and he only had two potions on him.

‘These’ll do nicely, though,’ he took the Flight and Haste potions from his belt, pushed one vial at a time into his Orb of Air, pulled the corks with his front teeth and drained the liquid.

The world slowed around him and he sped away, splitting the murky surface, where Flight took over. Alex soared, dodging a barrage of beams from up ahead.

He took stock of the area.

Claygon was racing for the trees. Hart’s and Theresa’s prisoners and Brutus were lying prostrate in the boat. The Champion and huntress kept low, firing arrows like a steady rain. Cedric had reached the boat and was transforming his weapon into a bow, while Drestra was beside him, covering their side of the vessel, deflecting beams with her force shield spell. Her eyes blazed and she fired bolts of acid in the attackers direction.

Alex searched the water for Cedric’s prisoners…he found them, floating face down with holes the size of their heads blown into their bodies.

‘Shit! They’re shooting at the prisoners!’ He cast force shield, reaching the boat and grabbing his bag, then raced after Claygon. The nearer to his golem he went, the clearer what they were up against became.

A war party of cultists and demons, with few mortals among them, but a score of demonic warriors towered above boats made of what looked like the spines and attached ribs of titanic beasts covered with a demon’s transparent hide.

The demons were all bulk, their skin covered in iron pikes. Their left arms terminated in club-like hands bearing claws as long as short swords, while their right arms ended in peculiar, metal tubes. As Alex came closer, a demon tracked his flight with those tubes and: light and mana built up in each one, then exploded. Blood-red beams of force tore after him.

He dodged; but more rays chased him and Claygon from the boats below. The golem flew through the beams, as arrows and acid spells flew past him, striking cultists and demons. Their bodies tumbled overboard into murky water, foaming from acid.

A cultist pointed at Alex, demons turned, firing a barrage of rays through the sky. A ray hit his shoulder as he spiralled through the cluster of red beams.

Grunting with pain, the Thameish wizard reached for mana-soothing potions and dropped them on the assailants.

Vials burst, clouds of mana-soothing potion blanketed the enemy. Rays of light and force began to sputter and die.

The demons staggered, calling to each other in their demonic tongue, but Claygon flew into their midsts, ending all conversation. Massive fists went to work, and with each swing, someone—whether demon or cultist—became paste.

‘Catch some, Claygon!’ Alex thought. ‘We need them for questioning!’

The golem switched tactics, reaching for their opponents rather than turning them to pulp.

And at that moment, things turned into a waking nightmare before the young wizard's eyes.

It was clear that the battle wasn’t going in the cultists and demons favour and they’d soon be taken alive, which led to something that Alex would remember, even if he reached twice Baelin’s age. The cultists drew their blades and invoked a single name—”Ezaliel”—then died by their own hands, driving the blades into their throats. The demons bellowed at each other, then sprang, firing their beams and ripping one another to shreds.

Alex gaped in disbelief: even the pair of demons Claygon had caught killed each before anyone could begin to understand what they were seeing.

Demonic boats groaned as though they were alive, then shrivelled like mummifying bodies in the Barrens of Kravernus. Skin withered. Bone crumbled.

In heartbeats, all that was left of the war band floated atop the water, pieces occasionally drifting to the bottom of the swamp.

“Holy hell,” Alex swore. “What just happened?”

Silence returned to the swamp.