The Serpent That Devours Us

Chapter One

Something smells sweet, Stepa realized, as he began to wake up. Sugary with honey and earthy herbs, and strong enough Stepa could almost taste it in the back of his throat. Licking his lips, Stepa began to realize he was lying prone on a hard floor. As he tried to open his eyes, despite the throbbing on the back of his skull and crust on his eyelashes, his arms resisted the movement, stuck to a tacky floor.

With a groan, Stepa managed to shove himself over on his side and use his newly freed hand to rub at his eyes. After his eyes managed to focus, he lifted his chin to look at his surroundings. He was lying behind a counter, filled with shelves that had been cluttered with jars, bottles and decanters of all kinds, liquids of varied colors and viscosity. They were covered in a thin layer of dust, none of them standing out as something useful or new.

Brow furrowed, Stepa began to scramble to get to his feet, movement ungainly, his body felt heavy like a stone. As he stood, he realized he was in a tavern. Abandoned, there were round oak cross-section tables, marred with old scars and stained by previous maltreatment and frequent use. On the table tops were broken bear oil lamps and shattered dishes, empty, dented tankards on their sides. Any spilled liquids long evaporated into the musky sweet air.

Littered around a larger room on the other side of the grotty bar-top Stepa had been hidden behind were chairs that had been tossed around, some of them sitting at their tables undisturbed which seemed almost stranger than the mess. Most of the chairs looked like victims of a brawl, broken and cracked, flung around the communal area in a state of disarray.

From somewhere else within the tavern, there was a crash and the sound of gagging. Someone getting sick and groaning, the sound echoing and sounding pathetically miserable in the empty tavern.

"Michisk!" A voice snarled between the gagging. "Miciw maard!" Stepa winced at the vulgar exclamations. Whoever that was, they were having a rough time.

With his hand steadied against the counter, Stepa glanced over to where he thought the voice might be coming from. It was through an open archway, and hanging at the top of it was a colossal bear's head. Thick black fur and large, snapping jaws spread in a snarl. The teeth were yellowed and eyes glinting like black gemstones in the silky fur. Underneath the bear's head was a sign with the painted words: Chowder the Bear's Tavern and Inn. It was such a huge centerpiece that his shoulders were even emerging from the walls in a way that made him look more lifelike than what Stepa was comfortable with.

"Huh..." Stepa mumbled, his mind tumbling around to try and bring forth a map, hoping his brain could help pinpoint where he was based on the tavern's name. Casting a weary glance at Chowder the Bear, Stepa moved beneath his gigantic mounted head to try and find the angry, puking stranger.

Stumbling into the wikamik, a public water closet with individual stalls complete with their own ornately carved thunderboxes, Stepa found the source of the agonizing sounds. Nestled inside the first stall, nearest to the door Stepa just stumbled through, was a girl, legs curled beneath her as she spat bile into the thunderbox, tears running down her cheeks as she gagged.

"Ay?" Stepa greeted, nervously. The girl groaned and waved her hand over her shoulder as if shooing him away.

"Go away," she mumbled, elongating the last vowel in a whine, spitting again. The hand that she was using to cradle her head quickly shifted down to wipe at the wet tears on her cheeks but had to stop so she could gag once again.

Stepa wrinkled his nose, gritting his teeth at the sounds and smells in the room. Then, in an abrupt jerk of her head, the girl whipped around to look at Stepa. "Who are you?" Her eyes narrowed distrustfully, shooting up and down from his hair to his toes.