A cup of water appeared in front of Valgrin's face, held by a hand attached to a blurry figure. "Here you go," said a voice that wavered in and out like a badly tuned radio. Valgrin's stomach lurched again.
"Thank you," he managed between ragged breaths. He swished the water around his mouth, the metallic tang of bile still coating his tongue, and spat onto the grated floor. Droplets splashed back against his chin. Across the portal chamber, Skwilly stood chatting animatedly with Ylnah. What does it say about me that I’m jealous of Skwilly and his overcoming portal sickness. Valgrin's knees wobbled as he pushed himself upright, knuckles white against the guardrail before finally releasing it. "Show's over, folks," he glared at those sitting around watching him, his smile softened the impact of the glare. “Okay, I’m done being the entertainment. Nothing more to see here.”
“I’d have thought you’d be over this by now.” Izzy commented as she offered her hand to steady him while he wobbled toward the nearest chair.
Valgrin's knees buckled slightly. "Progress. Last month my insides felt like they were three rooms away. Now they're," he pressed a hand against his abdomen and inhaled sharply, "mostly where they belong." He lowered himself with a grimace, sweat beading along his hairline. "Five minutes and I'll be functional. Used to be fifteen." He exhaled slowly through pursed lips, the color only beginning to return to his face.
Izzy stepped to where she’d face everyone there, “Okay, I’m taking lead. Unless someone objects. I’m familiar with the situation and with most everyone here.”
Malcolm voiced his support and everyone else followed along.
“That settled, Litok you have the floor.” Izzy stepped to the side.
Pointing to a rough drawing, with an X in the center of the left side, he started. His raspy voice required everyone to lean forward a little, “This X is Bridget’s home.” He drew a line that went forty-five degrees to the northwest of the X, then leveled off to mostly west. “The tracks went this way, roughly. The prints where those of small humanoid types, at least five different prints. The scuffing and possible similarities mean five at the minimum, but don’t be surprised if that ended up being seven or eight at the most.” He grabbed an orange wax marker and drew a circle at the end of the line. “And here be the cave entrance. Lots more tracks at the cave, maybe close to twenty. Hard to be certain as much overlapping was in those tracks. I didn’t go deeper than the opening chamber. It was a little larger than the opening, but not by much, guessing it’s only a passthrough.” Litok put the was marker down. “Questions?”
“How far to the cave?” Malcolm beat Valgrin to the question.
“That would help,” Litok's calloused finger traced the path on the map. "Four and a half miles. The ground's all rocks and broken shale that slides under your boots, took me twice as long as it should've." His voice dropped as he tapped a misty area. "Got caught in that green fog. Burned my nostrils, tasted like copper pennies, but I made it through. Based on where I walked none of the green fog is toxic, but we know that can change, so need to be prepared." He reached into his pocket, pulled out seven cloth masks stained with something oily, and dropped them on the table with a dull thud. Then he grabbed the red wax marker, his hand trembling slightly as he marked a triangle halfway along the route. "Found these near that spot." He placed three crimson feather-shaped scales beside the masks, each the size of a palm and edged with something that had dried black. "Lathraig scales. Traces of a fresh kill nearby too, something big, torn apart. Whoever took Shawin walked through this area and somehow slipped past it. Going around…" He measured with his thumb. "Adds half a day, minimum. Could be worse, I didn’t get to scope out terrain or what we might run into beyond a quick high-level look."
“Lathraig?” Valgrin asked.
Izzy's hand settled on Litok's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "I've got this one." As Litok retreated, Izzy dug through her pack, leather creaking as she extracted something thin between her fingers. She held it close to her face, squinting, then flicked her right index finger upward. The air between them shimmered, then erupted. Malcolm's chair scraped backward. A creature materialized—coiling, twisting—its scales gleaming like fresh blood under torchlight. Six legs tipped with hooked talons slashed through empty space, each movement accompanied by a soft metallic scraping. Yellow eyes, ringed with bony plates, swiveled toward Malcolm, then Valgrin. The massive antlers jutting from its skull cast spindly shadows across their faces as it twisted in the projection. Izzy's lips curled into a grim half-smile. "Paid one hundred gold for this little nightmare-maker. Allows me to show what my crew and I faced on an adventure."
“How did it…”
"Later…watch," Izzy said, tapping the paper. The image’s mouth gaped open, revealing rows of needle teeth before a sticky tongue shot out, wrapping around an invisible target. "And this is why we don't get close." She tapped again. The feather-like scales along its back suddenly bristled, then launched outward in all directions. Valgrin instinctively ducked as a scale sailed towards him. "One scale will slow you down. Twenty will leave you paralyzed. A hundred…" She drew her finger across her throat. “And then there is the physical damage they do to you.”
Malcolm whistled, then added, “Nasty creatures.”
“Very much an understatement.” Litok added.
Izzy's eyes gleamed with fierce pride. "When we encountered one, I waited for it to open that nightmare of a mouth. Got a flaming arrow right between those teeth." She mimed drawing a bow. "One of my crew manipulated the fire and made that little flame explode. Nothing left of its head but ash and bone fragments."
“Impressive.” Valgrin commented. “How did the magic leave shadows? I’m guessing it wasn’t more than some type of magical holograph?”
Izzy looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Holograph seems close. The magic allows for sound and shadows both of which add realism.”
“It was more real than I want to face.” Ylnah’s eyes still were as wide as saucers.
“Fearless leader, how much daylight do we have in these zones and are we going out this afternoon or waiting until the morning?” Malcolm asked.
Izzy looked over at Bridget, then turned to address everyone. “We can debate, but I think the sooner we get moving the quicker we find Shawin, and that’s a good thing. As far as daylight, six to seven hours.” She looked over to Litok, “Correct? Shoulda just asked you to start with.”
“The green fog has a glow for a few hours after sunset, so we could go for ten hours before it becoming too dark. The last couple hours will be mostly green.” Litok answered Izzy.
“I vote get moving.” Malcolm stood up.
“Same.” Valgrin joined Malcolm.
Valgrin cinched his pack straps with a sharp tug, the leather creaking as Malcolm sheathed his blade with a metallic whisper. Izzy's fingers danced over her quiver, counting arrows by touch while Ylnah pulled her sleeves down. Skwilly watched everyone getting ready.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Litok pressed oily rags into everyone's palms. "Masks in pockets, not packs," he rasped, demonstrating by tucking his own into his vest. A nod passed between them and they filed toward the door, boots and hooves scraping against stone.
###
Valgrin's boot slid sideways on loose shale, sending a cascade of stones clattering down the slope. Malcolm grabbed his elbow just as Ylnah stumbled forward with a curse. Ahead, Skwilly's hooves scraped desperately against the treacherous ground, his legs splaying awkwardly with each step.
"Damn rocks," he snorted, catching himself against a boulder.
“Here I can turn one of my scarfs to a carrier and you can ride,” Bridget offered.
“Humiliated or dead, I’ll take the former.” Skwilly couldn’t keep the disdain from his voice, then caught himself and added, “If you’re sure you can carry me, it would be a great help.”
“If,” she laughed, “I might be the strongest one here.”
Skwilly crawled into the hastily put together sling and let Bridget carry him.
They crested the ridge only to face a shallow valley filled with undulating green mist. Litok emerged from the fog, his silhouette distorted through the haze.
"Seems okay," he called, voice muffled. "But keep your mask easy to get to."
Valgrin's fingers brushed the oily cloth in his pocket as he descended into the mist. The vapor clung to his skin, metallic on his tongue. Through the eerie green light, shadows moved like ghosts, his companions transformed into strange, wavering figures. Someone's breath hitched behind him.
"Is something moving up ahead?" Izzy hissed, her bow creaking as she nocked an arrow.
"Where?" Litok replied from the swirling green. "I don't…"
Rocks clattered to Valgrin's right, followed by a dull thud and Malcolm's sharp intake of breath. "Dammit all to hell," came his muffled voice.
"Malcolm?" Valgrin reached toward a hunched silhouette, its edges blurring and reforming with each pulse of the fog.
"Just kissed these lovely rocks with my knee." The shadow straightened, limping slightly. "Nothing broken except my dignity."
"Almost there," Litok called, his voice bouncing strangely off unseen surfaces. "The fog's thinning."
Three more steps and the green veil parted like curtains. Colors sharpened, faces emerged, and the flat rocky opening stretched before them, no longer hidden beneath the toxic haze.
Malcolm winced as his fingers probed the tender flesh above his kneecap. He rolled up his pant leg to reveal angry red skin already darkening at the edges. "Damn," he muttered, rotating his ankle in a slow circle. He squinted up at the jagged silhouettes of gray mountains that surrounded the opening like broken teeth. "If those peaks are a future challenge, this knee might need more than just time to get better."
“Could be wor…” Valgrin replied.
A thunderous roar ripped through the air, freezing everyone mid-breath. Seconds later, the sound erupted again a primal bellow that sent vibrations through the rocky ground beneath their feet and loosened small stones that skittered down the slope.
Closer? No, it’s further, I think. Hard to tell with the echoes. Valgrin tapped Izzy’s shoulder, and whispered, “Lathraig?”
Izzy nodded her head.
Ylnah stepped closer, “I’ve cast an Area of Silence spell, it's anchored to this spot, not to us. Hopefully that keeps us from attracting attention. If needed I can add force to the spell and mix my Cube of Protection spell, but at the levels needed to stand up to a lathraig?” She shook her head. "Even pushing my limits, we'd have half an hour at most before it collapses."
A gray-pink tongue, slick with viscous slime, exploded from the shadows and slapped against Valgrin's chest with a wet thwack. The barbed appendage instantly adhered to his flesh, ripping through fabric and skin. His scream dying in his throat as he's violently yanked forward, boots carved desperate furrows in the shale. Blood welling where the barbs dug deeper.
Malcolm's sais flashed in the light, the first blade slammed down, the second ripped upward, severing the muscular tongue in a spray of putrid ichor. Valgrin crashed to the ground, still writhing as the severed piece convulsed against him. A shriek—part rage, part agony—reverberated through their bones, the sound so piercing it threatens to shatter their eardrums.
Boulders crashed down like artillery shells, the impact rattling Valgrin's teeth as he whipped around scanning the edge of the opening. His heart seized as a colossal reptilian nightmare, exactly like Izzy's holo-display magic one, erupted through the gap. Its massive body, easily three times the length of a wagon, slithered with terrifying speed across the shale, it’s massive claws tucked along it’s body, closed the distance in violent surges. The creature's feather-like scales bristled along its spine. Valgrin's fingers burned with cold as he thrust them forward, summoning an Ice Wall that crystallized just as hundreds of razor-edged scales exploded from the beast, impaling the barrier with sickening thuds.
"Force wall behind the ice!" Ylnah screamed, her voice cracking with strain.
Izzy's knuckles went white around her bow. "When it roars drop everything. I'll put an arrow straight down its throat."
Malcolm's form dissolved into churning vapor beside them.
Mist Cloak, Valgrin’s pulse hammering in his ears. Gods, don't let him get caught in our crossfire.
The beast lunged at the Ice Wall, its talons gouging deep furrows through the crystalline barrier. The air crackled as a blinding sphere of lightning materialized inches from its eyes, arcs crackled across scales and forced its eyes closed. The lathraig's shriek shattered the air as it thrashed wildly, its massive body convulsing. The lightning dissipated in blue-white tendrils across its hide. For one heartbeat, silence. Then its bloodshot eyes fixed on them, jaws unhinging to reveal rows of jagged teeth as it unleashed a roar that vibrated through their bones.
"NOW!" Izzy bellowed, her arrow streaking through the air trailing flames that scorched the oxygen around it. Ylnah's twin Explosive Air spheres thundered after it, their surfaces rippling with unstable energy as they took on an orange-red hue as the followed.
A new cry of pain announced the arrow and spheres arrival. Then the detonation, with a concussive blast that knocked them all backward. A rain of superheated gore splattered across the shale where the lathraig's head had been, the decapitated body collapsing in a heap of twitching muscle.
Malcolm materialized beside them, his face and shoulders drenched in steaming viscera. "Ylnah stays behind next time," he tried to growl as he wiped chunks of flesh from his eyes.
‘Wha…Why?" she whined, still trembling with adrenaline.
"Because," Malcolm’s growl stopped and he smiled, flinging a glistening piece of brain matter from his sleeve, "I'm sick of wearing the insides of our enemies as outerwear."
“I know we need to push on, but before we do I want to pose a question.” Valgrin stood, hands on hips. “Doesn’t this seem a little to ‘on the nose’? We get back from swamp, few days later we, Malcolm and I, end up in personal adventures. Now this. Seems to staged and quick. Izzy, how long has it been since you’ve been involved in some sort of adventure before this?”
She scratched her chin as her lips pursed, “I’d say a couple of years? May be off a few months either way.”
“And we’ve had four in the matter of a little more than a week.” Malcolm observed.
Valgrin nodded, “Right, seems a bit odd. Don’t know if it’s the entertainment side of what Fred told us, or…”
“…Black Dove stuff.” Malcolm finished.
“My thoughts exactly.” Valgrin added. “That said, think on it while we head to the cave.”
