Page 41 of Swordheart #1

The hillside began to dim as twilight settled over the Vagrant Hills. Something whooped and shrieked in the distance, causing Sarkis to jerk upright and set his hand on his sword. Brindle’s ears flicked back, but he did not slow the ox.

“I don’t like that,” said Zale.

“You and me both, priest.”

“A gnole doesn’t like it, either.”

The shrieking came again and was joined by another one, a series of high sounds like someone laughing.

“Some animal you have here in the south?” asked Sarkis.

Halla shook her head. “I suppose it could be a coyote,” she said, a bit doubtfully, but then the whooping modulated until it sounded almost like words. It trailed off into silence.

“ Not a coyote,” said Zale, their dark eyes wide.

“There are hyenas that sound almost like that in the Sunlost Plains,” said Sarkis. “Do you have hyenas here?”

“Not that I know of, but in these Hills…” Zale spread their hands helplessly.

Brindle pushed the ox on for two or three hundred yards more, then stopped. “Here,” said the gnole, sliding down from the wagon seat. “An ox can bed down between a wagon and those trees.”

“Will it be safe there?” asked Halla. “Can anything get through the trees?”

“Don’t know. Don’t know how wide a thing in the woods is.”

This was the sort of statement that made a little space in the air around it, as everyone’s imaginations bent to the task.

None of them slept well that night. The wagon walls did not keep out the sounds of alien laughter. They discussed the merits of a fire warding things off vs. attracting attention, and finally Brindle simply lit one, and said, “Hills already know.”

The ox slept practically under the wagon. Brindle and Sarkis sat by the fire, half-wakeful, waiting.

It was after midnight, by Sarkis’s reckoning, when Brindle murmured, “Things in the sky, sword-man.”

Sarkis looked up. For a few moments, all he saw was stars, and then something passed overhead, not solid but transparent, so that the stars swam in his vision, as if seen through a coat of oil.

“I don’t like that,” Sarkis said.

“A gnole isn’t fond of it, either.”

The whooping sounds stopped. The fire had died down to embers and Sarkis wished that it would die even lower.

The oily sky-swimmer passed overhead again. Sarkis was reminded of the manta rays that swam in the Bay of Sandweight, the same undulating motion. Those had been harmless. This…

“Did your relative ever mention this?” asked Sarkis softly. Brindle shook his head.

“ Nyaaaaa-aaa-ah-ah-ah! ” shrieked something, practically in Sarkis’s ear.

He dove to one side, rolling and grabbing for his sword. The ox awoke with a snort. Brindle dropped to all fours, mouth open and enormous teeth bared.

“Nyaa-ah-ah!”

“Where is it?” hissed Sarkis, looking around wildly.

Brindle looked past him, then burst into snickering gnole laughter. He pointed.

An animal about the size of a squirrel clung to a tree near where Sarkis had been sitting. It had huge eyes and short, fluffy fur and vast, ridiculous ears.

“Nya-ah?”

“Think we can probably take him, sword-man.”

Sarkis groaned. “How is an animal that small making that much noise?”

“Nyaha-aaa-aaa-aa!”

Another one of the little squirrel-beasts answered from the woods. The ox made a sullen noise and dropped its head.

The wagon door creaked open. Halla and Zale stood framed in the opening. Halla had Sarkis’s sword held in front of her, fully drawn, and Zale had the frying pan.

“Sarkis?” hissed Halla. “Are they here? Are you alive?”

“He wasn’t alive before,” said Zale. “I mean, technically. Not to be insensitive.”

“Yes, they’re here,” said Sarkis, pointing. “They’re a strange little animal. I don’t think it’s going to be a—” and then the oily thing dropped out of the sky and landed on him.

He didn’t see it coming. It made no sound. All Sarkis knew was that something gelatinous and disgusting fell over him like a blanket. It was rather like walking through an incredibly thick spiderweb. He pawed at his eyes in disgust, spitting out slime.

Then it started to move.

Sarkis had the horrifying sensation of the slime on his skin squirming and trying to get under his clothes, and then the infinitely more horrifying sensation of the bit still in his mouth trying to crawl between his teeth.

“ Gaaaah! ” He pawed at his armor, spitting furiously. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it—” and then blue fire filled his vision.

Halla lowered the sheathed sword in her hands. The oily swimmer fell through suddenly empty air and landed on the ground, thrashing.

Brindle hissed like a furious cat, and snatched up a burning branch from the fire. He jabbed at the jelly-like beast and it recoiled, rising in the air. Whatever he said was all in gnolespeech, but Halla got the gist anyway—“Get back! Get away!”

The thing obeyed. Whatever it had been expecting, it wasn’t prey that vanished and then stabbed it with fire. It rose heavily, moving more like a sea creature than a bird, and vanished into the trees.

“Naha-aha-haaaa!” cried one of the small creatures.

“It’s an alarm call they’re making,” said Zale grimly. “Isn’t it?”

“Think so, rat-priest.” Brindle looked over at the ox, who was snorting and trembling, but unhurt.

“Do you think Sarkis is all right?” asked Halla, clutching the sheathed sword tightly. “I didn’t know if it was hurting him, but it looked bad.”

“I think you did the right thing,” said Zale, touching her sleeve. “Draw the sword again and ask, I suppose.”

Halla nodded. She felt a whisper of unease as she closed her hand over the sheath, in case it didn’t draw and that meant he was hurt or worse, but the blade slid out like silk.

Sarkis reformed beside her. He lifted his hands to his neck involuntarily, shuddering. She could see the hair on his arms standing on end.

“That was incredibly unpleasant,” he said. “Is it gone?”

“Flew away,” said Zale. “What did it feel like?”

“It was trying to get under my clothes and into my mouth. I don’t think it had very good intentions.” He looked around, still rubbing at his arms. “Gaaah, that’s not a sensation that goes away quickly.”

“Didn’t like fire,” said Brindle.

“Good to know.”

He and the gnole built up the fire while Halla and Zale watched the sky from the door of the wagon. Halla tried to step out to help and Sarkis very nearly picked her up and put her back inside.

“I can collect firewood as well as you can.”

“And if one of those things lands on you, then what? I’ll be trying to defend you from a pile of jelly.”

Halla scowled, but had to admit he had a point. “Do you think it would have done something bad?”

“I think when a pile of flying slime lands on you and tries to crawl inside your mouth, it probably doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Brindle’s fur stood up in spikes. “Better not touch an ox,” he muttered.

“Let’s hope the fire keeps it away.”