Page 146 of Alchemised
She had no idea what Crowther expected of her. She didn’t know how to make progress with Ferron. She’d expected the mission to be awful but straightforward, but Ferron gave her no opportunities to do anything.
She slit open a thick willow shoot with the tip of her harvesting knife, exposing the white wood beneath and removing the bark with a quick sweep of her arm.
The sound of one of the floodgates opening was almost lost amid the rush of water. A hinge shrieked, startling the marsh birds which burst out of the winter grass.
Helena dropped to the ground on instinct.
Cold mud seeped through her clothes as she peered across the water. The fog was slowly rising with the light, and she could just make out the upper tip of the West Island across the flooded wetlands and river channels. She didn’t think she was in danger, but she knew better than to allow herself to be seen.
The floodgates were connected to an intricate tunnel system which led into cavernous flood cathedrals beneath the West Island. As she watched, several necrothralls appeared through the mouth of the open floodgate, dragging a large box by chains.
Behind the necrothralls came several people in black or dark-grey uniforms.
One man waved a hand, and the necrothralls simultaneously pulled long bolts from the top of the box, causing one side to fall open.
Helena watched with fascinated horror as a creature crawled out from inside.
It was larger than a dog, and pinkish like a pig, except its shape was wrong. It had catlike legs and a long, flattened body, but the head was the most grotesque. Reptilian. Flat, with a snout so elongated that the creature struggled to hold it out of the way as it crept forward. There were massive jutting teeth curving out of both the upper and lower jaws.
Helena’s mouth went dry. She knew what it was, but it was impossible.
Like homunculi, chimaeras were one of Cetus’s prescientific alchemical myths.
But she couldn’t deny what she saw with her own eyes.
One of the men in black waved a hand, and a necrothrall stepped into the creature’s path.
Teeth flashed as the mutated body lunged, moving impossibly fast.
The necrothrall went down, and the creature used its hooked teeth to peel the greyish skin off the limbs. The necrothrall continued trying to stand until the over-large jaws ripped the head off.
Helena’s fingers shook as she buckled the straps of her satchel and began to crawl slowly away, trying to keep hidden.
The men across the water were all in conversation together, watching the monster as it ate the necrothrall. As a group, they turned and reentered the floodgate tunnel, leaving the creature behind, a pale and monstrous sentinel crouched on the bank.
Helena watched from across the water as the monster wandered along the shore with short, disproportionate steps. It struggled to move and stayed out of the water, sticking to the bank.
Helena resumed crawling, not wanting to find out if the chimaera could swim. Her hands had turned purplish grey from the cold. She rubbed them together rapidly, trying clumsily to use her resonance to bring warmth back into her fingertips.
She was just crossing the bridge, able to see the gate and checkpoint, when a searing heat encased her hand, so painfully hot she almost screamed.
The heat instantly faded.
She looked down, realising what it was. The skin around her left ring finger had a red tinge to it, and when she tilted her hand, the ring reappeared for an instant.
It burned again.
She nearly ripped it off. With her hands so cold, the heat was excruciating.
Bastard. There was no reason to make the ring that warm unless he thought she had nerve impairment.
He was probably summoning her to tell her about the chimaera, which she already knew about. Her bag was heavy, and she was freezing, and all she wanted to do was get back to Headquarters.
But Ferron wouldn’t know that she already knew. She turned reluctantly and headed for the Outpost.
SHE ARRIVED FIRST. SHE’D KNOWN she would, but it was still irritating to be so cold and forced to wait. She was barely able to get the door open.
She removed her cloak and then peeled off her jacket, wringing the sleeves so that marsh water trickled out, then she twisted at the extra fabric of her shirtsleeves, trying to make them slightly drier. Her boots squelched every time she moved, and her toes were numb.
