Previous Chapter

The Benthic held a strange place in the tales of the old salts. They appeared in countless stories but their appearance, goals and natures varied wildly from one account to the next. In one tale a solitary Benthic the size of a whale capsized a ship. In another a tribe of human sized Benthic would swarm a shipwreck, killing survivors and stealing plunder. There were really only two things the tales about the Benthic agreed upon. They did not care for human beings and they were not born with Gifts. Everything else changed with the story. Even so, the Benthic proved to be nothing like what Cassian had expected.

They encountered the Benthic at night, almost a full day after Adalai nearly got eaten by a giant crab. The morning crossing was fairly uneventful. Other than the usual splashing and slipping across the lowest parts of the path nothing particularly noteworthy had taken place. However the evening crossing immediately felt different. Cassian checked the quicksilver and confirmed that the weather was changing. Before breaking camp he made sure everyone had their oilskins at the ready.

Well, everyone but Verina, who assured him the Linnorm would keep her dry. Given how little he knew about the Slavs and their spirits he had little choice but to take her word for it. So they set out prepared for the damp.

Unfortunately rain along the Gulf was not a peaceful affair and their progress was badly hampered by wind and rain slicked rock. It felt as if Lum himself had seen them and set out to drown them with the rest of old Nerona. They pushed as far as they could but when the path dwindled to little more than a low sandy strip of ground with waves constantly driven over it by the winds Cassian was forced to call for a halt. They had just crossed a large island ringed by dunes and covered by grassy scrub. Not the best place to wait out a squall but it was all they had at hand. They were slogging up towards the dunes and the interior of the island when Adalai put his hand on Cassian’s shoulder and pointed towards a hunched figure climbing up a dune further along the beach.

At first glance Cassian mistook it for a castaway of some sort. In the poor light and driving rain it looked a lot like the creature was draped in rags and wearing some kind of tattered hat on it’s head. Only the odd gleam to it’s head and arms gave Cassian pause.

They hunkered down by the nearest dune and did their best to watch the thing unobserved.

“Do you think it’s some kind of shipwreck survivor?” Marta asked.

“Not likely,” Cassian replied. “Ships don’t sail near the Drownway, it’s too risky. If someone jumped off a sinking ship they’d have to go far out of their way to wind up here rather than somewhere closer to civilization. It’s not impossible but it is very hard to imagine.”

“More of our friends from a couple of days ago?” Adalai suggested.

“Seems the most likely to me,” Cassian said.

“What is he wearing?” Verina rubbed absently at the side of her face. “It looks like chainmail in this light but it also looks like he covered his face with it. I’ve never seen a helmet like that before.”

“They exist.” Adalai tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I can’t remember where it was from but I saw a helmet that covered the face with chainmail once. Looks more like he’s got a tricorn than a helmet, though.”

Cassian spared the strange foriegn man a curious look. Carpathea seemed to know an awful lot of trivial details about fashion yet showed little understanding of how to apply the science to himself. “Whatever it is we should have a closer look at him. It’s likely that we’re going to be spending the night on the same island as him so I’d like to know who he is. Adalai, go up the dunes and flank him. I’ll come along the shoreline and we’ll trap him between us.”

There were some stories of the Benthic that described them as scaled like a fish so, when he finally got a good look at the figure, Cassian felt like kicking himself. The dull reflections Verina had taken for mail turned out to be the creature’s skin. Adalai had guessed that the Benthic were involved in his brother’s disappearance yet somehow the possibility they would encounter one of the deep dwellers that night hadn’t occured to him. But when a flash of distant lightning illuminated the creature it was instantly clear what it was.
Blue-orange frills stuck out of its scaled head, creating the hat-like silhouette, and dark green scales covered it’s entire body. Or at least what was visible under the layers of seaweed that covered its body. A strange, grayish pustule stood out in the middle of the creature’s forehead slightly above its two enormous violet eyes. The sudden flash of light faded and any other details Cassian might have gathered were lost.

The creature stopped climbing the dune and started towards him. Cassian froze and held up his hands, empty. “Greetings, dweller of the darkest oceans,” he called, nearly yelling to be heard over the pounding rain. “What brings you to the airy lands of Nerona?”

The creature gave no answer, just continued towards him, it’s enormous eyes seeming to glow in the dark. Cassian slowly backed away from it. Given the creature’s eyes he suspected it could see him much better than the reverse. Add to that how few stories of the Benthic didn’t involve violence and he wasn’t liking his odds.

The Benthic burbled something at him and raised its arms, one bizarrely human finger pointing at Cassian, and the rain stopped. The Ironhand cursed and drew his weapons with a wave of his hand. The Benthic didn’t recieve Gifts like humans but they all had the ability to control water to some extent. From the way the rain gathered in front of the creature’s fingerrather than falling to the ground Cassian was willing to bet this one was very good at water manipulation.

Before Cassian could shout a warning to the others the ball of liquid blasted at him in a torrent the size of a man’s arm. He leaped out of the way, using his Gift to pull on his armor and move himself a bit further than he could normally jump. It worked but had the unfortunate side effect of yanking his armor up and out of place. He threw his daggers at the Benthic with the wave of a hand then used the distraction to pull his armor back down into it’s proper place. The straps on his breastplate weren’t meant to deal with that kind of torque.

Adalai was coming over the dune at a full run but the sand was clearly slowing him down. The Benthic waved a hand and a huge wave surged out of the ocean and surged up the beach towards Cassian. He braced himself for the incoming wave but it proved unnecessary.

For the first time since they set foot on the Drownway the Great Linnorm showed itself in full, slamming it’s long, serpentine body into the wave and blasting it away into a curtain of steam. The Benthic’s eyes widened even further and then it raised both hands to grab for the rain once more. A huge globe of water began to take shape over the creature’s head and the Linnorm’s heads responded by unleashing an earsplitting roar. Then Adalai’s sword burst through the Benthic’s chest and the creature spasmed and grabbed at the three inches of steel that had appeared there. The gathering rain burst out of the globe the Benthic had kept it in, drenching Adalai and washing the creature’s corpse halfway down the beach.

“Zalt,” Cassian muttered. “I was hoping we could take it alive.”

“You think we could keep something like that prisoner?” Marta asked, coming up beside him. “Not even remotely possible, not with all this water around. Hessex has a coastline too, you know. Even we know better than to keep a Tide Turner prisoner on a boat or along the shoreline.”

Cassian growled in frustration. “They may have known something about the caravan.”

“Well even if they did how were we going to figure it out?” Adalai asked, trudging down to the Benthic corpse. He placed one foot in the creature’s back and pulled on his sword until it came free. “I don’t speak Benthic. Do you?”

“No,” Cassian admitted, feeling a bit deflated. He looked over at the ocean where the Linnorm remained, also looking out to sea. Steam rose off its body in sheets. “Better put that thing away, Verina. It might attract more of them.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” the yaga replied with a worried tone. “He says there’s something out there, in the waves.”

“What? What exactly is it talking about? More Benthic?”

Marta tapped him on the shoulder and pointed back the way they came. More of the creatures were pulling themselves out of the ocean onto the sandy pathway they’d turned away from just a few moments ago. In the dark and the rain it was impossible to get a count. But that wasn’t the really worrying part.

Verina pointed out at the ocean where the water had begun to churn and boil. The Linnorm watched that stretch of ocean with great interest. That interest was quickly rewarded when an enormous, eel shaped head rose out of the water, a huge, misshapen pearl in its forehead pulsing with ugly, grayish light.

“Lovely,” Cassian whispered. “A sea dragon.”

Previous Chapter

Cassian frowned as he watched Adalai take his blanket over to Verina. “You shouldn’t have meddled there,” he grumbled to Marta. “This isn’t the time for long, intimate discussions on the beach.”

“No?” The Hexton maiden gave him an amused look. “You don’t think this is a situation where having trust in your fellow travelers may be the difference between life and death?”

“Getting enough sleep can make that difference just as well,” Cassian replied. “And it will distract him less tomorrow.”

Her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Are you truly a man of Nerona? I thought you were all hot blooded romantics, lovers of poetry, women and music with no end to your appetite for any of them.”

“Don’t believe the tales of troubadors, signorina, they’re exaggerated beyond all recognition.” Cassian watched as Adalai draped his blanket around Verina’s shoulders. He suppressed a wince when she very deliberately pulled it off and set it in her lap. The man hadn’t figured out what happened yet.

“She needs to be less extreme in her reactions,” Marta whispered. “The poor man doesn’t know how to make heads or tails out of them.”

A flash of annoyance shot through Cassian. He pushed Marta away from the pair, growling, “Go to bed. At least a few of us need to be well rested tomorrow.”

“But I’m supposed to be on watch!”

“Not any more. I’ll handle the last watch so you go sleep. And believe me, making sure you do sleep is one of the things I’ll be watching for.”

With a huff she set off toward her sleeping roll on the other side of the outcropping. Cassian watched her for a few moments to make sure she was really ready to sit things out for the rest of the night before taking a seat near the high tide mark. It was as good a place as any to keep watch for the remainder of the night.

The sound of the waves drown out any sound that might carry from Adalai and Verina as well. That was a conversation best kept private. He still couldn’t work out what the source of Adalai’s deep discomfort with the Slavic woman was. Unless whatever far flung part of the world he hailed from had issues with the Slavs it didn’t make a lot of sense. They’d have to work it out on their own.

Cassian wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and waited for dawn to come.

Verina sat with his blanket in her lap, stubbornly refusing to meet Adalai’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what had provoked the complete reversal in her attitude. The first day she barely looked away from him for ten seconds at a time but now she seemed to sincerely loathe looking at him. It didn’t make a lot of sense.

Since coming to Nerona Adalai had devised a strategy for dealing with things that didn’t make sense. He ignored them and moved on to what he could make sense of. “Does your shoulder still bother you?”

One pale hand reached up and rubbed absently at the angry red skin still flecked with bits of glassy stone. “It just itches,” Verina said, her fidgeting suggesting she wasn’t being entirely truthful. “Don’t worry, I’m used to this kind of thing.”

“Can I ask exactly what kind of thing this is supposed to be?”

She offered a shrug with her good shoulder. “Being a yaga. Dealing with the Great Linnorm day in and day out. He’s a creature of the burning mountains, you know, a creature of flaming mud and ashen clouds. His touch has always been hot.”

Adalai tensed up. “Wait, the Linnorm burns you when you call on it? Did Cassian know -“

She waved her hands frantically to cut him off. “No, no! The Great Ones cannot hurt their yagas once we are bound to them. But that is only true of the yaga themselves.”

Things clicked into place. The burnt blankets and melted sand stuck to her shoulder must have been a result of the Linnorm manifesting while she was lying down. In fact, if the creature burned anything around it other than Verina it might even explain her unorthodox appearance. Why keep your hair long or wear sleeves if they were just going to burn up whenever the Linnorm showed itself?

It had to make life very difficult. Then he’d gone and gotten himself dragged off by an oversized crustacean while she was sleeping and made things even worse. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“That you got hurt protecting me.”

He caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To look after each other? The Great Linnorm is my Gift, passed down from the yagas since the loss of the Rus. What would I be if I didn’t use it?”

It was his turn to furrow his brow. Something that had stood out to him in the years since he was sent to Nerona was how deeply Gifts were rooted in peoples’ identities. Yet ever then, Verina struck him as extreme. “Surely there’s more to your Gift than the Linnorm. You’re an Invoker. All the spirits of nature that can hear you should answer when you call.”

The glimmer of amusement vanished. “No. That is the way of Invokers, yes, but once I was chosen to become a yaga I had to decide whether I was willing to give that up.” She brushed her fingers along the tattoo on her other hand. “The Artificers who mark us do more than bind a spirit from the Rus to us for the rest of our lives. They must also cut us off from all other spirits as well or the binding will fail.”

“Why would you agree to such a thing?”

Verina’s eyes unfocused, staring into the middle distance. “Have you ever been lost, signore?”

Adalai closed his eyes and took a moment to steady his breathing. “As lost as a man can be.”

“The spirits of the Rus are lost, signore.” She held out her hands, palms upwards, and one of the Linnorm’s heads appeared over them looking down at her with what Adalai could only describe as a wistful expression. “Him What Walks has taken the land from us. The people can find new homes but what are the spirits to do? The hills and plains, the steppes and mountains they called home are gone. There is no place for them now. No place save with their yagas.”

“I see.” In truth there was a lot there that Adalai didn’t understand in the least. He’d heard of the Slavs before. He knew they were a wandering people with no land to call their own but Verina made it sound like their old land was lost in a very literal sense. As if it had been physically moved or possibly even destroyed. The Linnorm’s continued existence suggested the land had to be out there somewhere but he wasn’t an Invoker. Nature spirits were not his forte and he couldn’t be sure. “Well, it sounds as if the Great Linnorm is very fortunate. That’s one thing he and I have in common – we’re both lucky to have a woman as generous as yourself looking out for us.”

Verion blushed and fidgeted with the blanket in her lap. “I don’t know as I would go that far. It’s the duty of the yagas to look after the spirits after all.”

“It’s your duty to look after the Linnorm. It’s your duty to look after the rest of us. Who is looking after you?”

“The Linnorm himself, of course.”

Adalai nodded. “Of course. That will have to be another thing the two of us have in common.”

The Linnorm gave him an approving look before vanishing from sight. “He likes you, I think.” Verina sighed and pulled the blanket out of her lap and draped it over her front, struggling to keep it in place without covering her tattoos. “Whatever it is, he sees you differently than other people. It’s strange. He could somehow tell you were involved as far back as when Cassian came to recruit my brother.”

“Is that why you snuck out to meet us on the beach? Because the Linnorm wanted to?”

“He was quite insistent on it.”

Adalai chuckled, feeling a little chagrin at how he’d assumed Verina’s close attention to him was on his account. In point of fact she was just responding to the dragon on her back. “Have you figured out what it is he’s so interested in?”

She flicked a glance at him through her eyelashes. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever have a good understanding of how the Great Linnorm thinks. But I might have found a clue or two.”

“Well, if you figure it out in full I would be interested to know.” He got to his feet and dusted himself off. “In the mean time, tell me if you need someone to look out for you. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

He wandered back to his pack, wrapped himself in his cloak and laid down to sleep. It was a little chilly but he still found it more restful than it had been when he’d had his blanket.

The next morning Cassian tromped down from the atoll’s outcropping, his vial of mercury in hand, and came to a stop next to Marta. She was watching the other two members of their band. She’d put a small kettle of water on one of the flanks of the Linnorm and brought it to a boil. Adalai was talking softly to her as he stirred something into it.

Cassian scowled and muttered, “That’s your fault, you know.”

“I’ll take the credit,” she replied with a half smile. “It doesn’t mean much, given the circumstances, but it’s better that they’re getting along again, isn’t it?”

He leveled the vial at her in an accusatory fashion. “Listen here. This isn’t one of your Hexton caravans where everyone is one big family, understand? Bravos exist to do the most dangerous, least appreciated jobs in all Nerona. That’s not to say they don’t like romance or family. It just means that if we let those things cloud our judgement when we’re doing our job out here it could very well get us killed.”

She chuckled. “I’ve been wondering if I would ever see any of the famous Neronan passion from you. I have to admit this is not how I expected it.”

A humorless smile twisted his lips. “Oh, I’m exactly what you’d expect of a Neronan man most of the time, Dame Marta, though I admit these circumstances are unique. But I love a good bottle of wine most evenings and I’ve charmed a woman a time or two. I know the signs.”

Marta spared him a scornful look. “Do you?”

“Of course. I see them on your face whenever Sir Braxton comes up.” A blank expression slammed over her face like a portcullis and she turned away immediately. Cassian moved to one side of her and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Now I don’t know anything about Clan Towers or how a Baron is likely to think of one of their daughters. I don’t really care, either. What raises my ire is that we are all of us now deeply compromised as bravos and that is very, very dangerous.”

“You gathered us to help you rescue your brother,” she responded in an equally quiet tone. “You were compromised to begin with.”

“Yes,” Cassian hissed. “How foolish of me to think that I might find some companions who would make up for that weakness.”

He stormed away across the beach, pulling out his map and wishing that at least one thing would go right that day. So naturally that was the day they first encountered the Benthic.

Previous Chapter

In theory low tide gave them just as much time to cross the Drownway at night as it did during the day. In practice things were much different. The day’s second low tide came after sunset and, although the moon was waxing full and the skies relatively clear, it was still difficult to move safely over the slick rocks and gravelly shoreline of the tidal path. Progress was slow.

For Adalai it was made worse by the constant glare Verina had fixed on the back of his head. Cassian was right about how personally she’d taken his ignoring her. However that didn’t make the six eyes boring holes through him any easier to deal with. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Cassian earlier that the thing which really bothered him wasn’t Verina and her obvious regard but rather the scrutiny of the Linnorm that was hidden behind it.

The Invoker’s Gift was one Adalai was fairly familiar with. Invokers found spirits of nature and caused them to manifest to defend the Invoker or answer questions. Or do whatever else the Invoker had in mind. The catch was the Invoker had to find a local nature spirit to Invoke. Adalai didn’t know much about what local nature spirits actually did but he was pretty sure they had to stay with the local nature to do it. Dragging one all over Nerona had to be bad somehow.

Yet neither Verina or her dragon seemed to recognize that what they were doing was incredibly unnatural. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. The fact that both of them – or all three if the two heads thought independently – had some kind of fascination with him didn’t help matters.

On top of all of that, whenever the “Great” Linnorm showed itself he got a creepy feeling. That was the best way he could describe it. Creepy. Something about the yaga and her dragon rubbed him the wrong way and he didn’t like it. Yet the two – or three – of them wouldn’t leave him alone.

So Adalai resolved to ignore them more than ever as they picked their way through tidepools, waterlogged slopes and wet, squishy sand. At least there was no windy tightrope to walk that time. It would have been more than he could take in the dark of night with an invisible dragon watching. In point of fact the journey was pretty unremarkable.

How long a given stretch of coast would stay above the waves varied but at a guess Adalai figured they had about two hours of usable travel time per low tide. All things considered it wasn’t a lot. Combined with the added difficulties of nighttime navigation and he estimated they covered half the distance they had that morning. They came to a halt on a low, sandy atoll that stood just a few feet above the high tide marks. The only shelter against the Gulf winds was a low stone outcropping that hung over a deep tidal pool. They hunkered down there to pass the rest of the night and early morning.

At first Adalai thought it was a good moment for some fishing. The tide pool was presumably a closed environment and he expected the fish would be unwary. After an hour of trying he gave up. In truth, dangling bits of food into a tide pool of unknown depth that might be connected to the ocean somehow was a bad idea. He didn’t appreciate how bad at the time.

He found out three hours later when a crab the size of a horse grabbed him out of his sleeping roll and dragged him into the tide pool. This happened just as he began to doze off. His body was adjusting slowly to the diurnal schedule they were keeping so he’d taken first watch and turned in once Marta relieved him. It was just past the witching hour when the creature struck.

Adalai was jolted awake when something yanked on his arm hard enough to cause pain. The subsequent dunking in sea water added to his confusion. If he had been alone that might very well have been the end of him. However, before the enormous crustacean could get a solid grip and drag him further down into the water the Linnorm took an interest in the proceeding.

To Adalai, half awake and flailing under the water, it looked as if a brilliant green light suddenly appeared and slammed into a shadowy mass of twigs. The grip on his arm loosened and he twisted around in the water until his head broke the surface. He had just enough time to suck in a lungful of air before going under again. Outside of getting a better look at one of the Linnorm’s heads chomping on the crab’s armored body there wasn’t much to see.

Given the events of the day so far Adalai went to sleep that night with his dagger still on his waist. Even though he was groggy from sudden waking he managed to get it unsheathed in a few seconds. He rammed it’s point into the joints of the claw holding him a couple of times and it let go. Adalai braced himself against the crustacean’s body and shoved away from it. His head banged on the wall of the tide pool.

Dazed, Adalai drifted for a moment, spots swimming in front of his eyes. His limbs were going limp. No matter how certain he was about his need for air a sinister lethargy had fallen on him like wet clothes, making any attempt to claw his way to the surface incredibly difficult. Worse, with his vision swimming, he couldn’t be sure which way was up. He ultimately had to spend more precious air to blow some bubbles that he could follow to the surface.

Once his head was above water again Adalai turned over on his back and gasped for air. A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and, confused, he flailed against it before he realized it was Marta dragging him back towards the shore. The crab got hold of his leg and for a brief moment Adalai saw himself getting torn in half. Then the Linnorm got a solid grip on the crustacean’s body and shook it.

The tidepool frothed like a babbling lunatic as the spirit’s head churned through the water and the crab let go of Adalai a second time. This time Marta got him all the way out of the water. The enormous crab was still locked in its deathmatch with a Linnorm head but by this point it had lost a leg and one of its claws. Blue-gray blood was sizzling off the dragon’s scales and splattered on the ground. Adalai was reaching for his sword, which he’d taken from the bandits and left on the ground beside his bedroll before sleep, when he heard Cassian call out, “Zalt! There’s another one over here!”

In point of fact it turned out there were two more of the enormous crustaceans coming up out of the sea. Cassian was already fighting one, his sword and daggers jabbing ineffectively at the massive creature’s armored carapace. A glance at the Linnorm assured Adalai that Verina and her spirit had the tidepool situation well in hand. Adalai scooped up his own sword and motioned Marta towards the new threats.

Unlike their encounter with the bandits, Adalai didn’t have the luxury of letting Marta get in front of him. The new crabs were too close and too dangerous if they flanked Cassian. In his heavy plate armor the man was a goner if they managed to pull him into the water. So Adalai charged the closer crustacean, doing his best to leap over its claws and legs so that he could reach its long, waving eye stalks.

Unfortunately leaping was not something he was naturally gifted at, in the general sense or the more specific, Neronan meaning. His attempt to jump over the crab’s flailing limbs didn’t work and it’s foremost leg got tangled with his. He went dawn in a heap. At least the creature’s body was within reach. Adalai stabbed at the joint where the leg met the main body, drawing a squirt of foul smelling bluish blood.

The creature pivoted and tried to snatch him in its claws but Marta’s glowing shield popped into place long enough to deflect the blow. Adalai scrambled to his feet as the crustacean recovered, getting close enough to slash at an eye stalk as he’d originally intended. The blow missed as the crab backed away from it. The creature had apparently decided discretion was the better part of valor. It withdrew from the shore, letting its bulk sink back down into the waves with a speed that belied it’s enormity.

Marta apparently decided the creature was not coming back. There was no other conclusion to draw from the way she shifted her attention to the creature Cassian was fighting, charging headlong into its flank, striking at its churning legs. Given that the heavy striking head of her mace was designed to break armor Adalai expected great results. He found himself disappointed.

The heavy shell of the crab was more flexible than steel armor and, although the mace left it bruised and discolored, the shell did not shatter. However the creature did not care for that kind of hit one bit. It immediately snatched at the mace with its oversized claw, grabbing the weapon and beginning an almost comical tug of war with Marta over it.

Between Marta on the right and Cassian on the left the crab’s attention was fully occupied. Adalai took the opportunity to scramble up to the creature’s flank. The joints where the creature’s legs met its body were larger than any of the others. He grabbed hold of one of it’s middle legs and threw his whole body’s weight forward, forcing the leg to extend at an unnatural angle and expose the joint. Then he placed the point of his sword there and pushed.

The crab released a strange, high pitched screeching sound and thrashed aimlessly. It released Marta’s weapon and she used it to smash the very claw that had held it over and over. Cassian’s daggers plunged into the writhing creature’s eye stalks. Adalai braced both hands on his sword’s hilt and wrenched around in a circular motion, twisting the blade in the creature’s guts. The crustacean was beginning to back away when Cassian flicked his wrist and sent his long sword flying into the creature’s mouth all the way up to the hilts.

The creature twitched and staggered a moment longer then lay still. With a groan Adalai pulled his weapon out of the corpse, watching with some envy as Cassian’s weapons effortlessly pulled themselves free from the body and flew back to him. As they backed away from the crab, warily watching to make sure it was dead, the gnawed body of the first crustacean flew overhead. It crashed into the other corpse and carried both into the surf.

Cassian sheathed his weapons with the wave of a hand and watched the waves lapping over the bodies. “Not bad work, although it will make things tricky. Everyone keep your eyes out for any hungry creatures the fresh meat attracts. Do you have anything dry to wear on hand, Carpathea?”

“I brought a spare doublet. And fortunately I took my cloak off before bed.” Adalai turned to point towards his bedding but stopped when he realized Verina was laying on the ground, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. Concerned, he put his weapon away and hurried over. “What happened? I thought the Linnorm was between you and the crab.”

“It was,” she hissed through her teeth.

The situation was even harder to explain now that he had a closer look at her. It seemed like she hadn’t even gotten out of her blankets. They lay strewn about her in charred tatters. The outer layer of her skirts showed similar scorching but most strange of all was the layer of shiny, almost glass-like sand that was stuck to her left shoulder beside her tattoos. Adalai reached out to brush it off but Verina jerked herself away.

“Don’t touch,” she growled. Then she pulled herself upright, twisted around until her back was to him and began rummaging through her bag. Adalai shifted from foot to foot, wondering if he should help. He was about to offer to clean up the burnt blankets when Marta gently pulled him away.

“No one wants to be seen when they feel pathetic, Sir,” Marta whispered. “Leave her be for a moment.”

“Pathetic?” He matched the woman’s tone. “She just saved my life! That’s hardly what I’d call pathetic. And she got hurt in the process, don’t you think that’s something that concerns me?”

“Of course, Adalai, but trust me, she’s not quite ready for your concern yet. Change your clothes. Dry off a bit. Then try to talk to her. She should be ready then.”

A quick glance told him Verina was in the process of applying some kind of salve to her skin. She was also pointedly ignoring the two of them. Adalai turned his scrutiny back to Marta. The Hessex woman wouldn’t quite meet his gaze, her pale blue eyes skittering this way and that like pebbles in a moving cart. “You know something about this, don’t you.”

“Hessex was near the Rus. Lots of Slavs came there after it disappeared. I… have some ideas about yagas but I’ve never heard anything of certainty. It’s not my place to talk about it. If you want to know, you should ask her.”

“Fine.”

As Adalai got changed he debated the question. He had good reason to avoid building long term relationships in Nerona. He’d been promised a chance to go home one day. But to do that he had to survive the current day first and having some idea what was motivating Verina seemed more and more like a necessity to survival. So, once he was in mostly dry clothes and she had finished with her salve he made up his mind.

Folding his blanket over one arm he went over to try talking to her again.

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I appeared on the Iron Age Knights podcast to talk about my recent book release, Roy Harper and the world of the Columbian West. Give it a look if you’re interested!