Page 51 of Queen's Griffon

One second Kenny sat at the rear of the skiff. The next? He’d been dragged into the water by a black tentacle.

“Row!” Mustachio screamed.

“Shouldn’t we turn around?” whimpered Ron.

“We have a mission. Now row, or I’ll feed you to the sea myself!”

They rowed while Avera kept watch over their wake. She saw the beast surface enough to show its sleek back as it tunneled after them. Not a worm like she’d encountered in the lake in that mountainous cave, but obviously deadly.

And fast.

She croaked, “It’s coming.”

“ROW!” Mustachio gave them the unnecessary command.

To her surprise, even more speed had them hitting the fringe of the mist, the moist tickle of it warmer than expected. It reminded her of steam from a hot bath. A few more strokes of the oars and the fog fully enveloped the skiff, cutting off the sunlight, making it impossible to see.

Had the beast followed?

Given nothing capsized or yanked anyone off the boat, she could only assume it had remained beyond the mist, probably because of the heat rising from the water.

Avera leaned over and trailed her fingers in the water.

“You idiot. Are you trying to die?” barked Mustachio.

“The beast won’t follow. The water is much too hot, I’d wager.” She’d had baths cooler than this because the servantsusually couldn’t be bothered to cater to the misbegotten daughter.

“Air smells bad,” muttered Ron.

Avera sniffed and processed the faint stench of rotted eggs. “It’s sulfur. Most likely from seeping volcanic gasses.” She’d learned quite a bit about volcanoes while on Saarpira.

“Is it poisoning us?” Funny how the men looked to her for answers.

“If we breathe too much for too long, we’ll end up with irritated throats and noses, possibly a headache, some nausea.”

“It won’t kill us?” Ron again.

“Nope, but the effects can be unpleasant. Hopefully it’s not as strong on shore.”

“Speaking of which, where is it?” Mustachio muttered. “Can’t see a bloody thing.”

They couldn’t and yet Avera found herself pointing. “Keep rowing in that direction.”

“What makes you think you know?” Mustachio blustered.

She gave him the look, that of a queen annoyed someone questioned her, before coldly replying, “I was sent here for a reason. And that reason is in that direction.” She couldn’t explain her certainty.

The rowers obeyed and Avera kept her arm up, making a noise when they veered even slightly. Mustachio glowered from the prow but didn’t say anything further. Then again, why would he when they suddenly found the mist thinning enough to see that they approached a beach. Too fast, she should add. The skiff ran aground before they could react, causing her and a few others to fall from their benches at the jolt. She righted herself quickly and had a look.

To her surprise, there was little fog over the land. There were patches here and there, but for the most part, the sun seeped through the thin clouds overhead. Enough light came throughthe haze to allow foliage to flourish. Everywhere she looked, green leaves, even some brightly colored flowers bloomed, but no signs of habitation until Ron exclaimed, “Holy shit, look at that bush. It ate a boat.”

Not so much ate as enveloped. The small vessel, most likely for fishing, was fully covered. Only its shape made it distinguishable. As Avera glanced around again, this time with a more discerning eye, she realized the unchecked plants had overtaken the manmade items, covering them in dense vegetation that made them hard to recognize. This would make her task more challenging, because most likely the rocks she sought had been covered too. Not ideal, but it could have been worse. She’d feared to find Verlora encased in hardened lava.

“Where to now, yourmajesty?” asked Mustachio with a sneer.

She opened her mouth to reply,Don’t know,only to find herself walking, drawn towards the jungle.

Ready or not, the quest had now truly begun.

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