Prelude by Charles Gull

Author:Charles Gull [Gull, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie Author / Self Published
Published: 2019-04-02T06:00:00+00:00

We are close to exhaustion, but I am pleased to see that Sergeant Wynter’s tactics are working perfectly. Fortunately, though the tentacles form and attack again and again, it appears the water cannot create multiple facsimiles of each snatched body concurrently. It tries sending more tentacles over our heads to directly grab additional originals from inside the circle. However, some quick thinking by two of the guards has defeated this form of attack too. It appears that little more than a taught rope is needed to cut through the tentacles. They have become so good at throwing nooses that the water is staying outside the range of their weighted ropes.

With each little victory, the earth gets a little wetter. Exhausted and soaked through, guards begin to slip and skid as the ground turns to a quagmire, but I smile in determination. We are gradually winning. The water is receding. Every tentacle we sever, every slice we carve out, reduces its volume. As the tide retreats, we follow it down the hill, repelling its attacks and pushing it even further back. We are almost at the bottom when the pale and bloated bodies of Nix and the other two victims emerge from the shallowing water. With renewed effort, we drive the water back to recover the bodies.

Water leaks from the corpses, draining into the earth. Though their remains look forlorn and pathetic, this is a turning point in the battle. Robbed of the originals, the water can no longer create the duplicates and the copycat attacks peter out. The flood seems to lose heart in its own aggression and, breaking its encirclement of the hill, pulls together into a compact pond. With shouts of triumph, we now encircle it and press home the attack with a frenzy of slashes and splashes. Soon, there is nothing more than a damp patch of ground left.

Many of the guards whoop in celebration, but I am far from joyous. I check my Metronisms and stifle a curse. We have lost two men and two horses and we are not even halfway through the sweep. Though it is already the worst patrol of my career, what still lies ahead worries me more. My gut is insisting that the Realm hasn’t played all its cards yet. There is even more to come.

Wynter walks over and salutes. “Captain, we managed it, but”—he takes a deep breath—“I am beginning to suspect that your gut feeling might be right.”

“About this being the start of something bigger?” He nods silently. “Well Sergeant, if my gut is correct, we can’t afford to wait around here until we drip dry. We need to retain the initiative and take the battle to the Realm before it can get even more creative.” He obviously agrees. “We shall have to abandon the dead horse, but we owe it to any waiting relatives to bring their people back. Let’s bundle them up and be on our way immediately.” We salute and set about organising the patrol.

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