Page 157 of Starside

I’m pulled beneath the swamp’s surface before the rest of the words reach my lips.

This time, I don’t gasp. I don’t fill my lungs. I’ve learned that much. My eyes open instead, stinging in the acidic water, and my body goes rigid.

Glinting metal. Everywhere. The bottom of this bog is covered in swords, and chalices, and other priceless prizes.

And bodies with shriveled skin that have somehow been preserved in this stinging water.

Not all of them are dead. My throat constricts as the creature that pulled me under finally comes into view. It has the pale face of a man, but it—it doesn’t have a mouth. Its eyes are milk-white. Sharp bones erupt from its skull in a crown; each spire covered in ashen flesh. Tattered rags with gold stitching hang off its bony limbs, a glowing spot of crimson in the center of its chest is visible even through the fabric. Terror spikes through me.

Skelmire.

It was in the book. Legend has it they were once royalty consumed by their greed. Now they keep everything that stumbles into their bogs. I should have remembered before I stepped foot in one.

Fuck.

The skelmire leans forward, and its flesh … it begins to peel off its limbs in long ribbons, leaving behind only bone. A spindly hand reaches toward me—

In a flash, those ribbons of flesh uncurl, pinning me to the bottom like shackles.

I thrash beneath its hold, lungs constricting. Everywhere it’s touching me burns.

It bows its head, so I’m only facing its crown of flesh. It gets closer, as if it’s about to stab those bone-sharp spires through my skull—

Before it can, it’s gone. I’m freed.

I crash through the surface, sputtering, head pounding, only to see the creature standing right in front of Raker. Without a head. But it’s still lifting a sword.

“Its gem!” I sputter out, remembering the book.

“What?” Raker demands.

“There’s a gemstone inside its chest. It keeps them alive even after death. You have to—you have to take it out to kill them!”

Raker’s fist busts through the skelmire’s rib cage, cracking right through bone. I swallow at that raw strength. His hand emerges holding a glimmering ruby.

The creature breaks apart, bones scattering before sinking into the bog.

Raker looks back at me, and by the tilt of his head … he almost looks impressed.

Not pathetic. Not nothing.

That’s what I say through my glare as I pant, relief settling my blood.

But before my heart can return to a normal cadence, the still gray water all around us breaks. And dozens of skelmires slowly emerge from its depths. All holding swords they must have fished from the bottom of the swamp.

Raker and I share a look.

We’re surrounded. I’m exhausted. I want to sink to the bottom of this bog and give up. I want to let this swamp win.

But just that look … I can’t see his face, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze. It’s like a promise. We will fight. We are tired, and fading fast, and I fucking hate him right now, but we will fight. “Keep that elbow up,” he says, voice like ground stone.

I nod. I unsheathe my sword. It glimmers.

The skelmires lunge forward.

My blade swings widely, cutting off three heads at once. And I do manage to keep my elbow up. Energy pounds through my dehydrated veins, every last shred of strength rising, fighting. I can’t break their bones with my fists, not like Raker can, but when they stand still, I plunge my blade through their chests, cutting the precious stones out.

Rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds all spill into the water as the skelmires go down, one by one.