Page 92 of Dream Reaper

“I’ll keep the first watch,” she said without preamble. “Tell Finnr to relieve me in a few hours.”

Jerrid slid his hands into his pockets and hesitated, uncertain about the wisdom of leaving her alone with Talos, even if he was securely chained. “Do you, ah, need anything?”

Brynja speared him with an expressionless look that somehow looked pointed. She didn’t say a word, just pocketed her whetstone and then pulled a small bit of wood from a different pocket.

Breaking eye contact, she began to whittle at the partially formed stick. It had the vague appearance of a spoon, but it was hard to judge at this point in the development. Apparently Brynja used her carving skills for more useful things than toys.

Jerrid plodded back to the camp, his feet dead weights at the end of his legs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this wasted, not even after long hours of flight with his father on their journey from Haldor to Eroth.

This was a different kind of weariness, the kind that went straight to the bone.

He stumbled his way down the narrow path Brynja had taken to the caves north of the camp. It wound down a gully and through a thick stand of trees before leading back into the northern edge of the camp. As Jerrid broke through the woods, loud voices echoed from the tents below.

He quickened his pace, blinking to eliminate the weariness fogging his vision. No one was in sight as he passed the first row of makeshift tents. He stepped into the inner camp before he saw any sign of life.

Siri stood with Roar clasped in her arms, struggling to keep hold of him.

“What’s wrong?” Jerrid asked as he jogged alongside them.

She lifted a pinched face toward him. “Something dragged one of the girls into the forest.”

“They went that way!” the boy hollered as he wiggled and tugged and twirled in an attempt to free himself. “Lemme go, Mum! I want to help!”

“Don’t make me sit on you!” she snapped.

Jerrid bolted in the direction Roar had pointed. The voices grew louder ahead of him, branches crackling and echoing in the stillness of the forest. Jerrid left the perimeter of the camp and forced his way through the undergrowth, following the trampled foliage.

Through the tree branches, torches bobbed up and down and cast long, eerie shadows between the tree trunks. Branches lashed at his legs as he forged a path through the brush to catch up with the others.

Ava’s voice rose above the others and bellowed, “Don’t let go of her! Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

Several high-pitched voices clamored in response, the words tumbling over one another and making them unintelligible.

Jerrid burst through a thicket of small saplings and slipped over the edge of a small gully. He skidded down to the bottom where the others had already gathered.

There you are, that familiar, dark voice whispered to him. I thought you were going to miss out on all the fun.

Jerrid ground his teeth together and shoved his way through the crowd of girls. At the front of the group, Finnr and Ava both had their arms wrapped around a girl of about sixteen years. The other girls were hanging onto her arms and hands, all of them working as a group to hold her off the ground.

What were they⁠—

His question broke off when he saw the tentacle wrapped around the girl’s ankle. He wormed his way around Finnr, slipping on the slanted edge of the ravine as he tried to reach the girl. The thing clinging to her writhed as if it were truly the tentacle of a great sea creature, but it lacked substance—nothing more than shadow and smoke.

Jerrid tried to grab it, but his hands went right through.

“We already tried that!” Ava grunted, sweat streaming down her face as she struggled to hang on to the weeping girl.

The tentacle yanked, and the entire group skidded several feet farther down the ravine. The thing inside Jerrid’s head laughed. He pressed a hand to his temple, teeth gritted against the pain.

“Let go of her!” he snarled.

He ignored the confused looks from the others and turned away from them, facing the writhing pit of shadows at the end of the gully where the tentacle began. He took a step toward it, but faltered, common sense warning him that if he walked into that mass of shadows, he’d never walk back out again.

But what choice did he have?

The others cried out as the tentacle dragged them deeper down the gully. Finnr bumped into Jerrid and knocked him forward several more feet. Jerrid righted himself and spun, calling for Dragon to help him.

He swiped out at the shadowy tentacle, but his human hand sliced through it as if it were nothing more than smoke.