Page 107 of Swordheart
“Think we can probably take him, sword-man.”
Sarkis groaned. “How is an animal that small making that much noise?”
“Nyaha-aaa-aaa-aa!”
Another one of the little squirrel-beasts answered from the woods. The ox made a sullen noise and dropped its head.
The wagon door creaked open. Halla and Zale stood framed in the opening. Halla had Sarkis’s sword held in front of her, fully drawn, and Zale had the frying pan.
“Sarkis?” hissed Halla. “Are they here? Are you alive?”
“He wasn’t alive before,” said Zale. “I mean, technically. Not to be insensitive.”
“Yes, they’re here,” said Sarkis, pointing. “They’re a strange little animal. I don’t think it’s going to be a—” and then the oily thing dropped out of the sky and landed on him.
He didn’t see it coming. It made no sound. All Sarkis knew was that something gelatinous and disgusting fell over him like a blanket. It was rather like walking through an incredibly thick spiderweb. He pawed at his eyes in disgust, spitting out slime.
Then it started to move.
Sarkis had the horrifying sensation of the slime on his skin squirming and trying to get under his clothes, and then the infinitely more horrifying sensation of the bit still in his mouth trying to crawl between his teeth.
“Gaaaah!” He pawed at his armor, spitting furiously. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it—” and then blue fire filled his vision.
Halla lowered the sheathed sword in her hands. The oily swimmer fell through suddenly empty air and landed on the ground, thrashing.
Brindle hissed like a furious cat, and snatched up a burning branch from the fire. He jabbed at the jelly-like beast and itrecoiled, rising in the air. Whatever he said was all in gnolespeech, but Halla got the gist anyway—“Get back! Get away!”
The thing obeyed. Whatever it had been expecting, it wasn’t prey that vanished and then stabbed it with fire. It rose heavily, moving more like a sea creature than a bird, and vanished into the trees.
“Naha-aha-haaaa!” cried one of the small creatures.
“It’s an alarm call they’re making,” said Zale grimly. “Isn’t it?”
“Think so, rat-priest.” Brindle looked over at the ox, who was snorting and trembling, but unhurt.
“Do you think Sarkis is all right?” asked Halla, clutching the sheathed sword tightly. “I didn’t know if it was hurting him, but it looked bad.”
“I think you did the right thing,” said Zale, touching her sleeve. “Draw the sword again and ask, I suppose.”
Halla nodded. She felt a whisper of unease as she closed her hand over the sheath, in case it didn’t draw and that meant he was hurt or worse, but the blade slid out like silk.
Sarkis reformed beside her. He lifted his hands to his neck involuntarily, shuddering. She could see the hair on his arms standing on end.
“That was incredibly unpleasant,” he said. “Is it gone?”
“Flew away,” said Zale. “What did it feel like?”
“It was trying to get under my clothes and into my mouth. I don’t think it had very good intentions.” He looked around, still rubbing at his arms. “Gaaah, that’s not a sensation that goes away quickly.”
“Didn’t like fire,” said Brindle.
“Good to know.”
He and the gnole built up the fire while Halla and Zale watched the sky from the door of the wagon. Halla tried to step out to help and Sarkis very nearly picked her up and put her back inside.
“I can collect firewood as well as you can.”
“And if one of those things lands on you, then what? I’ll be trying to defend you from a pile of jelly.”
