Elfborn

Rivers of Fire

It was sometime later that found Max back in the room that Merideth had brought him to when they first had come to the inn. He was on the bed while Lash was on the floor, the door to the room locked with a warning that if the guard outside heard them talking, he was authorized to come in and kill them. Wrapped in the thin blanket that had covered the bed, Max stared at the ceiling, his thoughts still in chaos.

Even if they had the opportunity to talk, Lash was still suffering from the beating he had received from Merideth and Larissa. Almost as soon as he had wrapped his own thin blanket around himself and put his head on his arm, the young de Marniet was asleep. And that left Max to himself and his thoughts. Thoughts that he wasn't sure he wanted to have banging around inside his head. 'But it looks like I don't have much choice,' the young de Rohan thought, the moonless night outside casting the room into almost complete blackness. 'They seem to be the only company I will have tonight!'

While Max struggled with his thoughts, Lash was far from comfortable in his unconsciousness. Almost as soon as he had closed his eyes, the young man was vaulted into the strange and twisted dream world that he had visited while on the road to Arengal.

This time, however, when he caught sight of Cassandra and Mordekai standing in the flames, he didn't call out to them. Instead he focused on their faces. And was grimly satisfied to see them smiling as the flames licked at their bodies without touching them.

Just as he had expected: Cassandra, Mordekai, and the others in black didn't work for some benevolent lord in Noran. No, they were agents of some much darker force. And, if the dancing flames were any indication, he would almost say this force was these Fire Lords that Cassandra had mentioned in passing before they had come to Shady River.

The discovery seemed to act like a balm as the hazy quality of the dream abruptly cleared and Lash found himself standing on the banks of a wide and slow-flowing river, much like the great Black River, which gave the Black Hills their name. But this river's banks were not heavily treed as were the Black's, and there was something about the water. Peering closer, he saw that it had an almost fluid quality, not a true liquid as if something had been added to it to make it move in an odd, viscous manner, almost like oil.

The dream Lash sighed and sat on the gently sloping banks. And discovered that, instead of solid ground, they were almost pure muck. His perch abruptly dissolved before he could react and Lash found himself sliding down the sloping bank, heading straight for the oily-looking sludge that flowed past.

Faster and faster he went, flailing about in a vain attempt to slow himself. Until, with a cry of despair, he was flung from the bank into the thick stuff, instantly submerged to well over his head. Almost immediately Lash kicked out against the cold and slimy stuff before beginning to thrash for the surface.

A thrill of panic went through him when the surface refused to yield to his clawing hands. Would he drown in this strange and clinging fluid that bore no resemblance to actual water outside of being able to move downstream? Then relief was flooding through his body as his fingers caught an edge and ripped an opening in the clinging material as if it had become some sort of fabric. Forcing his head out, Lash took a deep breath before looking around.

He was surprised to find himself quite some distance from the place that he had fallen in, the skid marks that he had left in the mucky bank already out of sight. But he had perceived this river flowed slowly, not quickly! How could he have been so wrong? Even as the question went through his mind, he could feel the strange river tugging at his body with its currents, pulling him even more quickly down the river.

As he thrashed uselessly against the current, the clinging stuff of the river combining with the strong flow to keep Lash from swimming to the bank, he became aware of something approaching towards him out of the distance. Frowning, Lash managed to turn himself towards it, using his arms and legs to keep his head above the thick, viscous surface.