R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

Mitchell snapped his menacing gaze on Billy. “What’s the matter, little boys?” he whined sarcastically. “Are the bad buggies biting you?” Then he squared his shoulders, eyes squinting in an ominous threat. “We go on!” he growled.

Del wouldn’t challenge him this time, nor would Billy, but Mitchell’s renewed fury only prompted Reinheiser. The physicist truly desired to leave the swamp and the dark wood altogether, but more than that, he wanted to test the extent of Mitchell’s defiance of his advice. “Perhaps you should listen to them, Captain,” he stated flatly.

Mitchell wheeled around as if struck.

“You, too?” he blurted in disbelief. “Again you back these two jerks. Whose side are you on?”

“This is not a contest,” Reinheiser began, but before he could elaborate, a loud splash ended the debate.

The fen before them churned and bubbled, its gray ooze rolling in sickening contrast to the pale whiteness of the frothing. Then as suddenly and unexpectedly as it had started, it stopped, the rancid water quickly settling to flatness under the weight of its muck. In a second only a widening ring of dissipating ripples hinted at a disturbance under the mirror smoothness of the pool. The men sensed a presence-close, under the surface-and knew they were surely being stalked. In frozen terror, they awaited the wild rush of water of the expected charge.

It didn’t happen like that. The creature came slowly, deliberately, confident of the inability of its prey to escape. Without causing even a ripple, almost as if it were an extension of the fen itself, a head appeared out of the dark water, a great lizard head with a forked tongue flicking between long, pointed teeth and bulbous black eyes, slitted yellow.

Oh, those eyes! Del thought. Horrible and mesmerizing all at once! He mustered up all of his willpower and managed to break free of their binding gaze. Nearly limp with terror, he somehow managed to grasp the hilt of his sword.

The lizard monster rose from the fen and reared up on its hind legs, lean and sinewy and very tall-even twenty feet away it towered over the men. It almost seemed to grin as it looked down at them, sizing up its dinner and swaying slowly, hypnotically, back and forth. And all the while, its wicked little forelegs twitched in anticipation of the juicy morsel they would soon hold steady for its great maw.

Most frightening of all were the creature’s “whips.” Two tentacles, twin serpents they seemed, protruded sideways from its shoulders, hanging down its side all the way to disappear into the dark water. Del couldn’t tell how long they were, for most of their length was hidden beneath the mere, but he did get a look at the end of one, a nasty barbed hook, as it broke out of the water for an instant in a menacing twitch.

“Good God,” Del muttered, and he drew his sword, preparing to meet his doom.

“Do we try to run, or fight?” he asked softly, trying not to spur the monster to action.

“Well?” he said louder, panic in his voice when he received no reply. He glanced over to his right. There stood Billy, Mitchell, and Reinheiser, staring blankly ahead, transfixed by the gaze of the loathsome beast. Over at Del’s left, Doc Brady, too, stood immobile, held fast by the bulbous eyes.

“Hey! Hey!” Del yelled, shoving Billy Shank, who was the closest to him. But the lizard’s eyes held Billy so firmly that he didn’t even blink.

A voice inside Del’s head, his instinct for self-preservation, told him to run. He resisted, unable to leave his friends in this predicament. He was obviously no match for the monster, but figured that if he could hurt it, the lizard might just settle for him and leave the others alone.

Del sucked in his breath and prepared to attack. Truly, he wanted to charge, but again that basic instinct for survival refused to let him rush to his death.

Now it was the creature’s move, and Del watched anxiously as one of the tentacles began inching out of the water, arcing up behind the shoulder slowly, teasingly, until the barbed claw just cleared the water. Then crack! came the snap of the whip, and the tentacle rocketed off past Del’s left and slammed into Doc Brady’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone to explode out of the man’s back, its barbs catching fast on a piece of vertebra in the splintered backbone. So quick and clean was the blow that Doc Brady never moved. Nor did the expression on his face change. He just plopped facedown in the muck, and the beast began reeling in its skewered quarry.

“Doc!” Del screamed.

Its meal secured, the beast released the other men from its paralyzing gaze.

“Get out of here!” Mitchell ordered his remaining crewmen.

“Come on, Del,” Billy cried, grabbing Del’s shoulder.

“I’m not leaving him!” Del rasped. He shook himself free of Billy’s grasp and rushed to the body of his fallen friend, who was by then nearly halfway to the beast.

The creature was ready for Del, though, and just before he reached Doc, the other tentacle snapped. At that moment, Del stumbled on a rock and hunched over, trying to regain his balance. That slip saved his life, for the claw razed his back, severing his cloak, but it could not dig in. Del felt the burning flash of pain and then the warmth of his own blood. He dove forward into the mud and scrambled on his belly to Doc Brady.

“Doc!” he cried. “Oh, Doc!”

“Del!” Billy screamed, and took a step forward.

“That’s far enough, mister!” Mitchell roared. Billy turned to the captain, who was already backing away. “Let’s go!” Mitchell ordered.

Billy saw Reinheiser moving to safety behind a nearby root. From behind, he heard Del moaning over Brady. Faced with the same choice that Del just had, Billy, too, could not leave. He met the captain’s eyes firmly and stated, “No.”

Mitchell lunged for Billy, meaning to pull him forcibly away, but he stopped short, his face going bloodless with shock and fear as an arrow suddenly whistled by, just inches from his nose.

It wasn’t aimed at the captain. Even as the lizard readied a death strike on Del, the missile found its mark, thudding into the beast’s chest and knocking it off balance. Its tentacle fired wildly as it staggered under the blow.

“Oi, Avalon!” came a cry. Mitchell and Billy turned just in time to see a warrior charging at them through the muck, brandishing a huge sword. Billy braced himself, and Mitchell, unsure if this man was friend or foe, grabbed at his sword hilt. He never got the weapon out, though, as the warrior crashed through and bore down on the beast, his direct line sending both the captain and Billy sprawling in the mud.

The lizard began wriggling the tentacle impaling the doctor, frantically trying to free itself in order to better fight this new foe. But Del saw the lizard’s intent.

“You’re not getting away!” he cried, and with a great fury he brought his sword down on the tentacle.

The monster tried its other tentacle again, but the warrior had rushed too close and just pushed it harmlessly aside before it could snap. On he charged, the beast responding with a defiant snarl, as if it remained unafraid, believing itself more than a match for any man.

But this warrior was no ordinary man. He moved right in, deftly dodging the biting maw’s initial attack, and snapped his sword against the lizard’s side, just under its foreleg, his agility and speed surprising the beast, though for a moment it remained unhurt as its scaly armor easily repulsed the blow. The warrior stayed calm as the two squared off, taking good measure of each other. He had fought this type of monster before and knew how to defeat it.

He let the lizard be the aggressor, using his energy defensively, dodging its deadly jaws and parrying the lightning thrusts of its razor-edged forelegs. He bided his time, patiently waiting for openings, and when they came, he brought his sword to bear, always on the same spot on the beast’s side. Frustrated, the lizard stepped up its attack, but this merely gave the agile warrior even more opportunities to strike. Again and again his sword crashed in, and now with every blow the beast roared in pain.