A Lash of Wind and Rain

Polished 13.1 and 13.2 — 32m32s — 2021/10/31

Polished the entire chapter — 1h23m08s — 2021/11/01

Polished the entire chapter — 36m11s — 2021/11/02

Polished — 30m10s — 2022/01/19

The Jindleyak call it a leviathan. The Saots call it a cloud kraken.

With camp set, fires lit, and the prisoners attended; Baet collected a handful of silversage. He set a small kettle on the edge of the fire and began to break the aged bits of the herb into the pot.

Toar approached from out of the growing dark. He sat next to the guard and frowned as his friend tended to his tea. “Do you still suffer?” he asked.

“I’m just being cautious,” Baet shook his head. "I saw some silversage around, and you said it couldn’t hurt.” He pointed to the knives about Toar’s leg. “Where’d you get those?”

“I traded for them,” Toar admitted.

“You thrown any of ‘em?” Baet asked, feeling a touch betrayed that Toar might be practicing without him.

“A bit,” Toar nodded.

“Are you any good?”

“If I throw them all, I might get one to stick,” he admitted.

Baet shrugged. “You’ll get it,” he said as he stirred his tea. Several seconds passed with only the crackle of the fire to fill the silence. “Where's Celesi?”

Toar rolled his eyes. “She is unlikely far. Shall I go find her for you?”

“You mock,” Baet replied. “I don’t know what she has against me. I don’t even know the child.”

“She knows why foreigners drink silversage,” Toar noted.

“Well if that ain’t below the belt!” Baet complained. “Why would you tell her such a thing?!”

“I didn’t,” Toar replied. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know!” Baet huffed. “You barely talk to me anymore!”

“Well, if I wanted to be nagged, I’d go find the girl,” Toar stood. “Perhaps it is best if I leave you alone," he turned and began to walk away.

“No, stay,” Baet said. “Lately, I want for friends.”

“What do you mean?” Toar asked. “You have many friends.”

“Do I?” Baet replied. "You barely talk to me. The brothers Homoth and Komotz think I’m a cheater and refuse to play with me…”

“Did you?” Toar asked.

“What? No! I’d never cheat friends!” Baet fumed. “I’m appalled that you think you have to ask!”

Toar raised his hands in apology. “Well, even if the priestess does not like you, her son seems rather fond.”

“My best friend is nine years old,” Baet lamented.

“You have Carringten and the duke,” Toar noted.

Baet let that slide without comment. He didn’t want to mention why the duke or Carringten should have reason to question him. Indeed, he had not thought on that in such a long time. For a moment he wondered if his betrayal was forgotten. Did Creigal even know? He shook his head to clear away his suspicions. He certainly didn’t need to be stirring up any of that mess—especially if it was all but forgotten. He decided to change the subject back to Claiten instead. “The other day when I was swimming, the boy tried to stab me again.”

“Just goes to show you can’t trust those Ministrians,” Toar huffed.

“Oh, I don’t want to cast shade on the priestess or her boy,” Baet shrugged. “Besides, I convinced him I’m too big of a target. It’s better to learn from me, instead of against me.”

“Well it certainly isn’t just you,” Toar said with wide eyes. “He took a swipe at Komotz and even threatened Celesi the other day.”

Baet frowned. “He seems to be running awful hot. Do you remember, back before Ebertin? Was he like that when we marched the road from the ruined forts to Faldefallen Hovey?”

“I don’t believe so,” Toar shrugged.

“I’ll talk to him about threatening our friends,” Baet began. “Maybe I’ll make lessons contingent on it. Can’t have him ambushing people. Sooner or later, he’s likely to do some actual damage,” he shook his head and looked off into the distance. “The boy sure has a bit of the devil in him.”

For a long second neither spoke. Staring across the camp, Toar gave a nod toward Homoth and Komotz. "So the brothers think you’re cheating?"

Baet shook his head. “All I do is win,” he noted. “At first I thought it was a great blessing to best them in cards and have a few coins in my pocket, then I realized they are terrible gamblers.”

“That’s no reason to hate you,” Toar noted.

“Well, I may have taken a bit of advantage,” Baet shrugged. “Still, they did not have to accuse me of cheating.”

“If winning is the problem, perhaps you should try losing.”

Baet gave his friend a quizzical eye. “Losing might do the trick—but they won’t play with me anymore. Perhaps if I hadn’t rubbed their faces in it.”

Toar patted his friend on the back. “Don’t let it bother you. Now they have prisoners to drain their animosity. Maybe they’ll forget a little coin.”

“Hopefully,” Baet shrugged. “Either way, will you do me a favor? Will you trade me watches? I’d prefer not to spend another night with them glaring at me for hours on end.”

Toar snorted and smiled. “Sure,” he nodded. “I hate the middle watch the most.”

Baet slept well. He did not notice the turning weather until Toar woke him for his turn at the watch. Clouds had gathered, and a light drizzle slowly soaked the land.

The hours passed as the soft patter of rain continued. Nothing happened through the darkest part of the night. Baet woke Carringten so the dark man could take the last watch. “Did Scurra come down from the tree yet?” Carringten asked.

“No,” Baet answered. “As far as I can tell, she’s asleep up there.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Claiten woke early, before the sun was up, just as the sky was beginning to light. He could hear the patter of a soft rain and thought perhaps he should stay in where it was warm—but the anger built up inside him—he squirmed and fidgeted, then finally untangled himself from his bed.

He hoped his mother didn't notice him sneaking away. She had her own troubles. Indeed, she had a hard time just keeping her food down. He listened in the darkness and tried to detect any uneasiness. Did she stir? Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, contrasted by the quick shallow breath of Evereste, and the faint breathing of Celesi in the next bed.

Claiten frowned and wondered where Meu got off to. He was reminded of their time in Ebertin when she would leave him alone to search for his mother at all hours. Since then, she’d been constant—until tonight.

The light of the sun continued to creep upon the world. An insatiable urge grew in the boy. He slipped from the covers, dressed, and grabbed his naga blade, then snuck from the tent. He walked to the water's edge and turned his defiant face to the sun. It was a drab day, and the storm clouds only intensified toward the horizon. Still, there was a gap between the clouds and the mountains, and for a few moments at least, the sun peeked through.

Claiten was electrified by the sight. He didn’t mind the soft pattering drizzle, even as it seemed to increase. Instead, he was mesmerized by the red light of early dawn, as a thick layer of dark, ominous clouds brooded low over the mountains to the north and east.

The occasional flash of lightning ripped at the sky. Soon the sun would creep into the clouds and the day would take on a drab and lifeless quality—but for the moment the world was bathed in blood red light.

Anger gripped the boy. With the dagger in hand, Claiten crowed long and loud, "ERRR-AY-ERRR-AY-ERRRRRR!"

The boy stood and stared out at the sun, sure that nothing would answer his challenge. He cocked his head back, gathered his breath, and crowed once again.

“ERRR-AY-ERRR….” He began—but stopped. His blood chilled and drained from his face as the lake rippled before him, as a fin appeared, heading straight toward him. The challenge was answered. Claiten screamed, long and loud as a naga crept from the water, with a callous grin on his burnt and familiar face.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Claiten’s crowing shattered the morning's silence and Creigal jerked awake. Called back into the world of the living, the duke settled against the cool thin frame of Meu as she too woke from the sound. Thoughts of the long and pleasing night they’d spent together faded as he wondered at the early morning disturbance. "I swear I've heard that same rooster ever since the Copper Kettle and Rooms," he shook his head. "I certainly heard it that first morning, when I saw you in your native form," he said as he remembered the strangeness of that day.

It is not a rooster at all, Meu told the duke. It is the boy. He has crowed ever since I rescued him from Beletrain, she noted.

“The boy?” Creigal asked. “And why should the boy crow?”

He has crowed ever since I led him out of Beletrain, Meu answered. It is strange. You know, the naga was obsessed with chickens. He sang a song of chicken and how to prepare them, and the boy has crowed ever since.

“Chickens?” Creigal frowned. “Was he obsessed with chickens—or was he trying to obsess the child with chickens?”

What do you mean? Meu asked.

“I know of a sorcerer,” Creigal began. “He used to get people to bark, like a dog. He didn’t have any purpose behind it. He just did it as a lark—because he could. I always wondered what sort of practical application one might find for such training. Certainly, it’d make someone easy to find. Easy to track.”

Meu’s eyes went wide and she scampered from their bed.

Creigal sat up. “Where are you going?!”

The boy! Meu cried in his mind. The boy is in trouble!

With that she turned and ran from the tent—despite her nakedness.

“ERRR-AY-ERRR….” the crowing began again—only to cut off in the middle—only to become a scream.

"Wait!” Creigal yelled as he struggled to pull on his pants. He cursed as he grabbed his sword and Traust’s shield, then ran after the woman. “You're naked!" He called as he rushed from the tent.

The patter of rain was now a steady downpour. The land sloped up to a slight rise before it angled back down toward the lake. Meu crested the rise as another shrill scream carried from the water’s edge. She gathered the shadows and shifted from human to wyrm. Half dressed, Creigal sprinted passed the guard as he followed after Meu. "To arms!" he cried as he ran toward the red light of dawn. "TO ARMS!"

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Claiten backpedaled up the gentle rise. He realized he wouldn’t make it back to camp before the naga was upon him; so he summoned his courage, lifted his blade, and prepared to fight. Adrenaline flushed though his veins. Muscles taut, he watched as Golifett slithered out of the water. The beast caught sight of the boy, grinned, and advanced.

Claiten meant to fight the beast, so bright and righteous was his anger. Then he noticed several more naga slithering out of the lake behind the first, and he knew there was no way he could stand against them all. He screamed again.

“To arms! TO ARMS!” a distant voice called, though Claiten could barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. An arrow screamed passed the boy—a whistler—but Golifett cut it out of the air with his sword. The naga slowed as they stared up at small clutch of trees that stood behind the boy like sentinels. Another arrow sang from the boughs and caught the second naga in the chest. The beast doubled over.

The naga retaliated. They launched spears and missiles of their own into the trees, most of which were deflected by the various branches.

The boy was not alone. His anger rose and his courage grew. He glared at Golifett. “ERRR-AY-ERRR-AY-ERRRRRR!” he crowed as he charged his scarred nemesis—only to be passed by the streaking form of Meu.

In her wyrm form, Meu slammed into Golifett as Claiten screamed and swiped at the beast with his knife. Golifett dodged the boy. A long arm swiped the child and sent him spinning toward the ground—but Golifett did not dodge the wyrm. Meu slammed into the naga, and the two serpents went down in a tangled heap—all while the storm increased.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 13.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Andrus blinked against his grogginess. The night was miserable as clouds had gathered some hours after midnight, rumbled their disappointment with the land, then began their drizzle a short time later. Now it was a steady rain and only increasing as he huddled against the bracing chill.

Some nights the last watch was the easiest, when Andrus had plenty of sleep and wanted to be about the day. Today was not that sort of day. The day before, he’d spent several hours and a good amount of effort trying to figure out how Meu had shifted into her serpentine form. The work was exhausting—but he’d figured out how to summon the obscuring shadows. He could not take a shape—though he thought if he could just see her make the transition one more time, he might yet decipher her secret.

That was a concern for another time, of course. For now, he simply tried to stay awake. If Homoth and Komotz found him sleeping on watch, they’d pester him for weeks—and the others might never let him forget it—especially since they had prisoners. Still, the dark man seemed to be obsessed with the prisoners, so Andrus didn’t fear them doing anything. He just didn’t want to get mocked in front Celesi.

His head sagged and for half a second, Andrus closed his eyes; then, as he realized he was beginning to drift away, he snapped back, and stared out at the gathering clouds. God, he was tired. He wondered if Saleos noticed as the older man fed their sheltered fire. He stood and stepped around several of the tents as he kept his blinking eyes on the sodden soil.

Despite the storm, the sky was getting lighter. Andrus hoped the rising sun would chase away his fatigue. The light wouldn’t last. It wouldn’t take long for it to cross the jagged gap between mountain and clouds. Then the day would take on its gloom and sap his strength once more—just like the shape-shifting shadows. It wouldn’t matter once the others were up and they were under way. Then he could sleep on his horse.

A rooster crowed just over the slight rise that blocked the lake shore. Andrus thought it odd that the boy still insisted on crowing every morning, though he thought nothing else of it. The child wasn’t hurting anything. Indeed, he smiled to have something else distract him from his sleepiness, something else to herald the energy of the day.

“Wait!” the foreign duke yelled from his tent. “Your naked!”

Andrus turned to see Meu sprint from the tent, toward the edge of the lake, sans clothes. He stood with a frown and wondered why the silent skin-walker was running for the water in all god's glory. Did she mean to bathe? That’s what he figured at first—until he noticed the look of sheer determination on her face—until he heard the second crow interrupted by an ear-splitting scream.

A flush of energy washed over Andrus as he chased after the naked lady. The boy screamed again. A whistler screeched through the air—an arrow with a special groove cut in it. Andrus grit his teeth. They were under attack!

“To arms! To arms!” the duke called, as he brushed past Andrus at a dead run; with only his pants, sword, and shield. Now fully awake, Andrus rushed after them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saleos stand and follow. Andrus crested the rise that stood over the edge of the lake. Before him Meu summoned the shadows and transformed into the wyrm. He grinned as he watched the magic play out.

The rain seemed thicker on this side of the rise. Despite the obscured view, Andrus could make out the sloping land and the large lake below. Several naga moved about, mostly around Scurra’s tree. One tangled and wrestled with the winged form of Meu, as others turned to confront the charging duke.

Andrus let out a yell, pulled his sword, and plunged headlong into the storm. He angled toward the tree, where several figures harassed the shadow of Scurra. He threw himself at the nearest beast. The creature was turned away from him and didn’t notice the advancing opponent until it was too late. Andrus slashed it across the ribs, cutting through its leather armor. The naga recoiled and backed away.

A thrown blade glanced Andrus. He recoiled and slipped in the soaked grass. The nearest naga turned on the fallen man. Andrus twisted away and dodged the trident, then grabbed the weapon and pulled the naga down. The beast landed on top of him. It grabbed at a dagger as they wrestled and rolled toward the edge of the lake. Andrus realized that despite the creature’s thin arms, it was incredibly strong!

Andrus sputtered and cursed as he wrestled with the thin-armed naga in the shallows of the lake, then found himself on top of the beast. He stepped on the flat of the naga's dagger and struck the creature's face with his fist.

Out of the corner of his eye, Andrus saw a blur of motion—but it was too late. Something struck his shoulder, and he crashed into the water with a terrible pain. He wondered if the bone was broken as he rolled to his back—his face just out of the lapping water. Above him stood a naga with a large mallet raised over its head. Andrus lifted his good arm, knowing the weapon would smash right through it then carry on and crush his skull like an egg. At least it'd be over quickly, he thought. But life didn’t end. Instead, the naga jerked back as blood exploded from its chest.

A split second later, a massive boom sounded from the direction of camp. Andrus turned his head. Out of the chaos, he could see Wenifas near the top of the rise, a short distance off. Smoke rose from the musket in her outstretched hand as she stared on in horror. The dead naga slumped to the side, and dropped its mallet. Andrus was lucky the weapon was dropped and not swung. Still, the heavy mallet fell with the full force of gravity and smashed his chest. Andrus felt several ribs crack as the air rushed from his lungs.

The fighting grew louder and more intense as it was joined en masse. Unable to breathe, Andrus choked as another boom shook the very air. A woman screamed—Celesi!—he realized. His heart went out to the girl. Oh Celesi! Why do you cry?

Andrus sucked air and tried to get off his back. He still couldn't breathe from the smash of the hammer. He rolled in the inch deep water. The tiniest bit of air finally seeped into his lungs. He needed to return to the fight! Still, his breath caught as he gaped at the sky above him. The rain came down in sheets.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the hostilities, clear as a bell. "RUN!" Scurra screamed from her perch in the tree. "Run, you fools! Death comes for us all!"

Andrus gasped and huffed as he propped himself up on his good elbow. At the far end of the lake, the dark clouds churned and boiled, as if somehow alive. Before this crackling, seething cloud an increasing army of dark specks flew through the murk at incredible speed. The winged beasts grew bigger and bigger as they shot across the lake, their wings beating furiously as they pressed themselves forward. At first, he thought they were crows—but no—they were much too large for that! Indeed, they were a good deal bigger than people! Andrus wondered that such dark angels should dance and shriek before the growing, roiling mass of storm and hate, like nothing he’d ever imagined! This dark blight of clouds moved much too fast to be natural!

Andrus gaped as he laid back and prayed the approaching doom would pass him by unnoticed. The winged beasts flew directly overhead with their coal black eyes—Dragons! How could they hope to stand against a flight of dragons?! The beasts—dozens and dozens—shot overhead, with their scaled bodies, clawed hands, and alien eyes.

Yet, the dragons were nothing compared to the creature that chased them! Several tentacles as long as lightning stretched out of the dark mass of cloud and whipped about the screaming dragons as they fled across the lake. A long, thin line stretched from the roiling mess of cloud and slapped a dragon out of the sky. The dragon crashed into the waters of the lake, and the tentacle followed immediately. The tentacle dipped into the water, went taut, then lifted the limp winged beast back into the air. The stunned and drenched dragon was pulled back into the dark mass of cloud as it hissed and popped with electric fury. A terrible shriek came from the clouded beast, a shriek that shook the land.

Another tentacle wrapped about the stunned dragon and pulled the beast in half. The remains were lifted high into the air, then dropped into the beak-like maw of the colossal clouded beast.

Andrus stared on, barely believing the wonders before him. He could feel the wind rush as the dragons passed him by, followed by the massive leviathan that thundered after them.

A deep calm came over the man. Lying at the edge of the lake, he knew he would die; and yet, having seen such wonders, he did not mind.