Page 57 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

“That’s a ralnauth,” I gasp, pointing to the shore.

The massive reptile lies on a stretch of muddy beach, nearly as wide as he is long. His skin is deep green, almost black. Including his fat, stubby tail, he’s easily as long as Bartholomew is tall. A long snout is presumably filled with razor teeth, or at least that’s what it says in the old elven books I skimmed through as a child.

I’ve never seen a live one, though Lord Garamond had a smaller one mounted in Fort Lintanry. That one didn’t give me chills.

As we pass, the ralnauth opens his golden eyes, lazily watching us as we pass by.

He’s similar to the dragons that are rumored to live half a world away, except he’s shaped more like a shell-less turtle, with stubby legs and a noticeable lack of wings—and thank goodness. A creature like that doesn’t need to fly.

“I didn’t expect to see one quite so early in our trip,” I admit to Ayan. “Just how many of the beasts inhabit Ferradelle?”

“I have no idea—the last time I was here, I forgot to do a headcount.”

I roll my eyes.

“Would you look at that?” Bartholomew says as he appears on my other side. The young man’s eyes are on the swamp beast. “Hard to believe they’re fast swimmers. It looks like it would sink like a ball of lead.”

The ship eventually sputters past the sunbathing ralnauth, but the three of us continue to watch the wildlife as we pass deeper into the jungle-like swamp. Birds I’ve never seen on the mainland roost in the thick trees, most brightly colored and all of them loud. Some cackle and caw, and others warble melodies and trill songs. They’re fascinating.

Bartholomew points into the canopy that now stretches over us like a live, green awning. “There’s a morikey. Do you see it, Lady Clover?”

I peer into the trees, trying to spot the creature. “How big is it?”

“A little larger than a barn cat. It’s gray with black stripes and a white face.”

“I see it!” I exclaim when I spot the weasel-like mammal. Its long, skinny tail is tipped with white, and its fur is thick and bushy. It suddenly leaps into another tree as if it’s following us as we make our way down the river. Soon, more join it, and their racket competes with the birds.

Moss and vines hang from the cypress branches, and orchids cling to the bark, blooming in an assortment of yellow and fuchsia. Irises sprout from the bog water, flowering in flags of lavender. Floating marsh plants grow in dense patches, and fat bullfrogs peer at us from under their protective cover.

The air smells of rich plant life, with a heady mix of florals and saltwater present as well. It’s surprisingly pleasant, although the insects have found us and already buzz around as if they’re plotting their next meal.

Grimacing, I swat a mosquito away from my shoulder.

“It has its own unique charm, doesn’t it?” Ayan dodges a dragonfly that whips past his face. “We should have packed netting.”

“It’s like another world,” I answer. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s certainly different from Dulane.”

I’m about to respond when a thought suddenly hits me. I turn sharply, narrowing my eyes at the elf. “You grew up in Dulane?”

He grins. “We’ve covered this already.”

“How many times have you been to Revalane?” I demand.

Ayan’s smile falters, and guilt edges in on his features. He swiftly looks away. “Oh, well. Let me think about that—”

“Ayan,” I warn.

“Once.” He nods. “Yes, I’ve been to Revalane once.”

“You’re supposed to be our guide!” I exclaim. “How are you going to get us through the city undetected?”

“I never said I wasqualified—I simply agreed to help you.”

Bartholomew shifts, uncomfortable with the conflict. But he steps up next to me, placing himself so we’re shoulder-to-shoulder—obviously taking my side.

He tells Ayan, “An omission of truth is a form of deception.”

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