Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) by Glenn Thater Page B

“I only see dark
waters and mist. Stinking mist.”
    In mere moments, the air
grew chill and strangely pungent. A light rain began to fall.
Flashes of lightning appeared in the sky followed by angry peals of
thunder.
    “ What’s that smell?” said
Claradon.
    Ob wrinkled his prodigious
nose, and rubbed his right forearm with his left hand, as if it
were sore. “I’ve been down this river more than a few times and
there is always a stink from the Fens, rotting plants and such, but
this is different. It’s too strong and came on too sudden.
Something is not right.”
     
    Captain Slaayde stood at
the forward end of the bridge deck beside his first mate. N’Paag’s
hands gripped the ship’s wheel like vises; sweat dripped down his
cheeks. “Captain, we should drop anchor before we run aground. I
can barely see; the current may run us into the rocks.”
    Slaayde peered into the
mist for some moments. “No, stay on course as best you can. I have
a bad feeling about this storm and this stench. You’ve heard the
stories about the Fens. I will not have The Falcon be her next victim. We
keep moving.”
    Slaayde yelled up at the lookout, ordering
him to help keep the ship well away from the banks and clear of any
rocks.
     
    Pain flared in Ob’s
arm—centered around the scar from the wound he suffered in the
Vermion Forest. He clutched at it and winced.
    The river went silent, the air went still
but for the rain that continued to fall.
    Theta drew his sword, spun around, and
scanned all about them.
    “ What is it?” said
Claradon, moving his hand to his sword hilt.
    “ Your amulet,” said Ob,
fumbling to pull his axe from his belt. “It’s glowing. There’s
danger afoot.”
    The air grew more chill.
Steam rose from Ob’s breath.
    Strange bubbling and plopping sounds came
from the water. Ob leaned between the rail posts and looked
straight down. “That’s not good.”
    “ What?” said
Claradon.
    “ The river,” said Ob,
wide-eyed. “It’s boiling, and it’s red. Red like blood.” Ob bounced
up and turned back toward the deck. “Did you hear that?
    Theta raised his hand for
silence. No one moved or spoke for some moments. “Somethingis
happening,” he said, his hand now gripping the ankh that hung about
his neck.
    A horrid scream erupted from somewhere down
on the main deck, lost in the mist. It lasted but a moment before
it abruptly cut off. Men yelled in the darkness, their words
muffled. Then came another scream.
    Claradon dashed toward the ladder that led
down to the main deck, Ob at his heels.
    “ Claradon,” boomed Theta.
He stopped in his tracks.
    “ Don’t move until we know
what’s happening. Gnome—keep a lookout behind us and to the sky, we
know not yet what we face.”
    “ To the sky? Look for
what? Pigeons? There’s nothing to see but mist.”
    “ Just look and listen,”
said Theta. Theta moved to the head of the ladder and peered below
into the mist that clung to the deck.
    A crewman ran toward the bridge deck,
shouting. “Captain, some thing came out of the mist. We can’t stop
it.”
    “ What thing?” yelled
Slaayde as he moved up beside Theta. “What is it?”
    The crewman scrambled up the ladder. Theta
stepped aside and the sailor collapsed to the deck, panting. “I
couldn’t see it clearly, Captain. Some kind of creature. A
monster.”
    “ What?” said Slaayde. “Are
you drunk?”
    More crewmen and soldiers
came into sight, racing across the main deck. A strange luminescent
figure stalked their heels. Shaped much as a man, but it was
shimmering, translucent, and indistinct. The creature moved at a
slow walk, with knees deeply bent, plodding as if it bore a great
weight. A scent of brimstone and burning wood polluted the air at
its approach. Steam sputtered and rose from its feet with each step
it took, as if the water on the wet deck boiled away at its very
touch.
    Men poured onto the main deck from the lower
levels, weapons at the ready. They surrounded the