On Death's Honor

Chapter 10: Like a Bat Out of Hell

Even underworld natives didn't want to go back there.

So why did Bogdan feel it was unsafe to talk here?

I don't have time for this, I found myself thinking yet again.

Rolling my eyes, I stride up to the old spirit until we were standing face-to-face, much like what he had done to me earlier.

"Then shut-up and let me focus, hmm?"

Bogdan frowned, gave me another one of his infamous sneers, then vanished in that way only spirits did. I grunted, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Faintly, I could feel my body getting heavy, desperately aching for a long, proper sleep.

Sleep I couldn't afford to have at the moment.

I pressed my lips together in a frown, moving to glance over the bridge once more. There had been a time when I hated going to sleep, way before I ever gotten involved in hunting down vicious monsters. I hated that I was limited on what I could and could not do based on the light the sky provided.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

The bridge shifted slightly beneath my feet, causing some debre to roll off its surface. I followed the movement with my eyes, watching as the debre hit the river below with a dull splash.

Immediately, dark, gnarled hands shot forth from the liquid, grabbing at what little amount invaded their home in an attempt to tear it apart. Somewhere way in the distance, a shrill, high-pitched scream began only to be swiftly cut.

Tonight may have marked the first of five nights of the Tralisk Flight, but it was certainly not a joy for all.

I blinked at the sudden thought. Despite having led Igna to see the water sprites just hours ago, I'd totally forgotten that it was Ruve.

"I am just full of not-so-grand ideas today, aren't I?" I whispered to myself. I sighed, getting down on my knees before pressing my palms against the edge of the bridge, ducking my head over so that I could get a better view directly beneath it. A sliver of dried land poked up in the middle, way too far to make a jump for it if I hung off the bridge's edge. Still, it snaked its way forward, barely a man's shoulderwidth but longer than a sailor's rope.

Well, this was unfortunate. I leaned my body further out over the bridge to study its underside, hoping to find some sort of purchase that I could grab onto to get to that strip of land. Instead, I was met with rough, sharp pieces of rusted metal. I swore. The bridge wasn't moving fast enough for the land to be available any time soon. I'd be stuck here for hours at best, days at worst - and that was if none of the roaming serpents decided to maneuver it around, themselves.

I don't want to be here when the snakes get curious.

This was the risk when using a wayfold. It began on a bridge, and you had to find some semblance of dry land before you accidentally find yourself in an entirely other realm altogether - such as the underworld. That little detail was the same no matter where in the world one was at. What differentiates, however, were the places one could go. Once on that piece of land, there were only so many options available. I couldn't go from the Fröth Woods to somewhere like Grovelt in one go - the two places were on an entirely different piece of land, separated by the ocean. I'd have to go from the woods to Ergan, hire a Stepper (probably Donvo, in my case) to row me across the waters, and go from there - which wasn't at all feasible for someone navigating the wayfolds by themselves.

I didn't know anyone who could open a door to the wayfolds more than once in so little time.

In this case, however, I was only going to Canden, which wasn't nearly as difficult a place to go from Fröth when using the wayfolds. In fact, it was far easier than going on foot. The hustling city was on the other side of the Dark Stretch (creative, I know), which was a long, massive line of mountains that most could ever hope to climb.

If only I could get to dry land. I glared up at the ominous "sky" above me, at the blood-red tendrils that looked as if they were going to fall at any given moment.

You could summon a dravin.

I am not summoning a dravin.

It could get you to dry land.

It could also eat me. It wouldn't even have to chew.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts. Without that sword, I wasn't going to summon any otherworldly creature that were fully capable of swallowing entire full-grown trees. I didn't fancy trying to cut myself out of a beast's belly with mere daggers before the stomach acids got to me.

Not many merchants or apothecaries knew what poultices to use when dealing with acid burns.

So my only options were to continue walking along the bridge to hopefully find other pieces of land or remain here until the bridge moved closer to the current section. I didn't like either of them. Bogdan wouldn't be able to help me - spirits saw things differently in the wayfolds. They could see openings that led to other doorways; however, those could be anywhere - river, land, the bloody stalactites hanging above me. I would need to see what he's looking at in order to confirm whether it's safe for me to use or not, which was nothing but a huge waste of time.

Somewhere, another roar erupted, powerful enough to shake the bridge beneath my feet. I stared down the path in front of me, dark and hidden like so many other things in life. Another reason most did not like going to Fröth. It was much, much closer to the underworld than most other places.

What to do, what to do . . .

Ba-boom, boom! Like a bolt of lightning striking the ground, the sudden noise was enough for me to nearly jump out of my skin. I whirled around, hand going for a sword that was no longer at my hip.

That wasn't normal. There was a loud splash, another angry roar of something huge. Shrill, high-pitched screeches echoed from beneath the bridge. Looking behind myself, I saw the streaks of black that flowed through the river rush to my left, all moving in the direction of that sudden sound - and, as a result, leaving behind a milky substance.

Could I . . . ?

"Nope, no, absolutely not," I tried to shake myself out of it. But it was the things in the liquid that caused issues, not the liquid itself. Surely. . .

No. I've executed enough bad ideas for the night.

The bridge began to tremble violently beneath my feet. I turned back around, facing the direction of the underworld, just in time to make out a large, hulking beast flying in my direction. Easily ten feet in length with doubled the wingspan flew a creature that could very well be the reason everyone associated hell with fire.

Not because it had two giant, gnarled horns on the top of its sleek, scaly black head, or that its gaping maw was covered in obvious blood and shredded muscle. Nor was it because of the hook-like talons at the ends of its wings and there was still a dismembered limb hanging off of one of them. Don't even get me started on the pieces of bone that stuck out of its own body, as if something had torn its flesh straight from its skeleton and it had never properly healed.

No, it was because this thing's scales were as black as the night itself, but it was wrapped in swirls of hot, burning orange flames that I could feel as far from here.

It wasn't a dragon. Dragons were much bigger, and no matter the species, they had four legs separate from their wings. This thing did not.

No, the thing barreling at me was a literal bat from hell.

~ 2029 Words ~