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  “Phew, they move fast,” Erika commented. “I hope we don’t get to see them hunting.” She scanned the river. “Let’s see if we can persuade that one over there.”

  She was pointing to a large creature which lay submerged in one of the smaller pools they would have to traverse. Viktor reloaded, Erika counted and they both loosed simultaneously. The bolts splashed into the water, one skipping onwards and the other getting lost with the spray as the crocodile thrashed and disappeared. It was impossible to know if they had hit it or just frightened it.

  “We’re going to have to cross somewhere. Let’s go.”

  They dismounted and tied their horse to a tree well back from the water’s edge. Then they made their way carefully on foot from rock to rock, giving wide berth to the bigger pools. They made it safely to the far side. Once there, they retreated a good distance away from the water’s edge and collapsed to the grass.

  “Whew!” exclaimed Viktor. “My heart is pounding.”

  Chandor didn’t comment, just unclenched his white-knuckled fists from the grips of his mace and shield.

  Erika grinned at the gesture. “Well, we’ve made it, and I’m fairly certain we can get the wagons across here.”

  Chandor still didn’t comment. He had a bad feeling about the crossing. Don’t be silly, he chastised himself, It’s natural to be scared crossing a river full of crocodiles. Your uneasiness is nothing more than that.

  After a break, they picked their way back across the river, remounted and returned to the wagons to let the others know that they had found a crossing. The night passed uneventfully and they spent the next morning escorting the wagons laboriously to the cascades.

  After chasing away every crocodile in sight with a barrage of crossbow bolts from both soldiers and adventurers, Erika called everyone around.

  “We’re most vulnerable in the river, so I want Chandor and Viktor to cross first and secure the far bank. The rest of you watch the path they’ve taken. Lander and Ernst will stay on this side until we’re safely across.”

  Chandor and Viktor nodded and were soon guiding their horses nervously across the river. Chandor had his shield and mace gripped tightly in his hands. Viktor held his loaded crossbow at the ready. They made it to the other side and urged the horses into a canter to quickly scout the landing area. With nothing in sight, they waved to the wagons. They watched only long enough to see that they were moving, before turning their attention back to the long grass of the banks. Erika had been as concerned about an attack from the land as she had about the danger in the water, and Chandor’s anxiety mounted with each passing minute.

  Viktor glanced back over his shoulder, “They’re almost halfway.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this. Keep your eyes sharp.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when they heard a scream from behind them. Wheeling, Chandor’s dread was fully rewarded by the sight that met his eyes.

  The wagons had been forced closer to the biggest pool near the centre of the crossing, and had disturbed something. Towering over the wagons was a monster with multiple dragon-like heads that writhed on long serpentine necks, each as broad as a man’s shoulders.

  “Hydra!” came Casanath’s scream.

  As Chandor watched, the heads darted out, targeting the first two wagons, which were those of Lander and the soldiers. Everything erupted into chaos as oxen and horses tried to bolt. People screamed. Two serpentine heads grabbed Albertus, one of the soldiers from Bronsverj. They lifted him high in the air and the ripped him in half. While the other heads continued to attack his companions, the two with the soldier proceeded to gulp the bleeding halves of Albertus down.

  Chandor saw Erika wheel her warhorse and charge into the fray, her broadsword cleaving into a scaled neck. The others followed her lead and a moment later the water churned with bodies, steel and scales.

  Chandor slid from his saddle. He ran towards the battle, leaping over rocks and splashing through shallow water. Up ahead, the monster continued to press its attack. Serpentine heads swooped down. Rows of teeth flashed and Chandor could see the growing dismay on the faces of his companions.

  He yelled a prayer of blessing as he ran, “Hear me: The Gods are with you! They fight for you against your enemy, to give you victory!” He raised his mace to the heavens as he leapt a frothing channel. His shield and mace started to glow with a menacing purple light. “For Otec and the Gods! In the power of Takatifu Roho!”

  He heard a cheer go up as the weapons of all the other fighters also started to glow with supernatural power. He covered the last yards in a sprint and launched himself at the monster. He delivered a haymaker with his shield that smashed into the exposed side of the hydra’s nearest neck, splitting skin and breaking bone.

  Next to him, Rolf used his army-issue broadsword to hack at the head, finishing the job Chandor had started.

  Chandor had no time to celebrate; a fanged maw dove towards him and he raised his shield in defence. Teeth appeared on either side of the shield and he was first driven backwards and then lifted high into the air. He was shaken violently. Pain exploded in his elbow, and for a moment he thought his left arm would be ripped from his shoulder. Just as suddenly he was falling back towards the water, the lifeless head falling with him. As he toppled he saw Lander reverse his purple-glowing two-handed sword to slice at another neck.

  Chandor took a breath before he hit the water. It was almost immediately knocked out of him as he slammed into the rocky bottom. He surged to his feet and gasped for breath, relieved that he was near the edge where the bloody water was only knee deep.

  His left arm hung uselessly at his side and wouldn’t rise as a hydra head descended toward him. Chandor gritted his teeth in anticipation of the pain to come, but the head flashed past him and honed in on Rolf.

  “For Notomok!” Chandor shouted. He swung his mace despite the pain it sent shooting up his shield arm. The heavy steel mace connected. The hydra head roared in pain and abandoned its attack.

  The hydra reared up on its hind legs, churning the water as a wagon-sized body lifted from the pool. It turned to flee with just one final head remaining to think and see. Deborah leaped onto its back and drove her spear into its neck. She twisted then ripped sideways. The last head was severed from the torso. With a shudder, the headless creature slumped into the pool.

  For a moment, the only sound was that of the river. Then a victory roar erupted from the comrades. Chandor sagged to the nearest rock, as the post-battle pain flooded his body.

  “It’s not over!” screamed Casanath. She was kneeling on the wagon seat, frantically lighting a torch. “The heads will grow back!”

  Agony speared up Chandor’s arm as he whipped around to look at the hydra. Sure enough, from the jagged wounds where heads had been cut from the body, tendrils of flesh were unfurling. New snouts were emerging like buds.

  Lander ran forward and hacked off the largest of the new heads, “I’ll do this all day!” he shouted manically.

  Casanath immediately plunged her now-burning torch onto the newly severed neck. It sizzled and blackened, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. The hydra’s body shuddered. A just formed head let out a scream of pain and the monster staggered as it tried to get to its feet. Erika was there in an instant. Her still glowing broadsword flashed and the emaciated neck parted for steel. The embryonic head dropped into the water.

  Chandor hadn’t realised he was moving until he found himself chest to chest with the prone monster. With a grunt, he hefted his mace and repeatedly smashed a rapidly developing head until it was a bloody pulp. Casanath arrived and seared the gruesome stump with her torch. The body swarmed with fighters, each of whom chopped back the growing necks as they emerged until Casanath could get there and finish the job. Finally, the last base was burnt and the hydra was truly dead.

  The company sagged to the ground, too exhausted to even raise a cheer. Chandor flopped down on a rock. He hooked the mace to his belt and un
strapped the shield from his useless left arm.

  He saw Casanath push herself to her feet and stagger over to where Erika sat slumped in her saddle. Chandor watched their urgent conversation. Erika nodded, sighed, and then called for attention, “Gather round!” When everyone was clustered around her warhorse she continued, “I’m afraid we’re not quite done. We need to collect the severed heads and drag them to the bank, and we need to get ourselves and the wagons to the shore before the crocodiles and giant crabs arrive to clean up.”

  A round of collective groans came from the companions.

  “Ernst, you keep watch,” Erika commanded, “Chandor, Kurt – you both need those injuries addressed; get yourselves to the shore. Is anyone else badly hurt? What about you Lander?”

  The big fighter shrugged, “Nothing that can’t wait,” he said, touching the bleeding gash on his forearm.”

  “Very well. Casanath, Deborah and Rolf are on wagon duty. Get the animals and caravans to the side. You can use Thunder here for some extra muscle,” she said, sliding from her horse. “Lander, Gelarey – you’re with me on head detail.”

  “Don’t touch the mouths,” Casanath warned. “Their jaws can snap shut with as much force as before, even though their necks can’t move. Grab them where the neck was severed.”

  “Are you serious?” demanded Erika.

  “That’s how hydra breed – with enough food each head will grow itself a new body and then each body will grow more heads. Then we’d have to re-kill it on our return journey.” She shrugged, “It’s actually pretty amazing when you think about it.”

  Chandor and Kurt made their way carefully to the river bank where Viktor was waiting anxiously, his crossbow reloaded and still glowing purple with power from Chandor’s prayer.

  “Are you guys all right?”

  Chandor nodded, but Kurt collapsed to the ground face first. It was only then that Chandor saw the rips in his clothing that indicated a massive bite wound stretching from his shoulder to hip.

  “Bloody idiot!” exclaimed Chandor. “He never said it was so bad, I would have dealt with it on the rocks!” He whipped his Holy Symbol from around his neck and knelt down next to Kurt. He pushed aside the fighter’s shredded cloak and gaped at the bloody mess beneath, amazed the Kurt had lasted so long.

  Chandor held his Holy Symbol with both hands just above Kurt’s wounds. “Almighty Otec, bless this warrior…” He had barely even started to pray when he felt the power of Takatifu Roho flowing through him, and he knew that Kurt would be healed. “Let your healing spirit restore your servant. In the holy name of Notomok, so be it.” Light blazed from the Symbol, and Chandor felt the metal growing warm in his hands. The purest music filled his ears and he sighed.

  A few moments later it was over. Chandor felt an overwhelming sense of loss. He opened his eyes and was unsurprised to see that Kurt’s back was covered in healthy pink scar tissue.

  Viktor stared at him in astonishment. “Chandor! Since when have you been able to do that?”

  Chandor shrugged and noticed that his own injury also appeared to be healed. He flexed his left arm, then swung it experimentally, nodding in satisfaction when he found it fully functional once more. Still on his knees, he lifted his face to the heavens, Thank you Otec. Although he felt better physically, he felt spiritually drained.

  Viktor was still staring at him in awe, “It’s a miracle.”

  Chandor nodded. “It is. The Gods have blessed me with power through purity of purpose, by the grace of Notomok.” He looked around. “You stay here and keep guard, I’m going to help Erika bring back the heads.” He swung his shield onto his back and headed toward the river.

  They worked quickly and soon joined the caravans on the shore where they made camp a good distance from the water’s edge. The five heads were carefully wrapped and stored once Casanath pointed out that the magicians guild would pay handsomely for them.

  They buried the remains of Albertus in a shallow grave, with a cairn of stones over the site. Chandor performed the Rite of Remembrance, confident that they would prevent the corpse from rising from the dead.

  When they were finished, Deborah made her way over to him.

  “Viktor tells me it would have been two corpses we were burying if it weren’t for you.”

  “Thank the Gods, not me.”

  “I don’t know what I would do without Kurt. I would be lost without him. I wouldn’t survive.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can live through,” sighed Chandor.

  Deborah laughed a throaty, bitter laugh, “You’re right about that. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.” She bowed deeply, “I’m in your debt.”

  Chandor watched her go, wondering briefly what she had been through. His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Lander.

  “Hey, Chandor, can you heal my arm?”

  Chandor sighed, and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll try.” He had Lander sit down and held his Holy Symbol over the wound. He started to pray for healing, but his heart wasn’t in it and he knew before the end of the second line that there would be no miraculous restoration. His words faltered and he looked up into Lander’s expectant face, “I’m sorry, I’m too tired to perform any more miracles. I’m sure after a good night’s rest I’ll be able to pray effectively again.”

  Lander grinned, “I know how you feel. After hacking all those heads I can barely lift my arms. I don’t know how I’ll get my dinner into my mouth! Still, we’ll sleep well tonight!”

  Chandor nodded and didn’t bother to contradict him. He awoke well before dawn as the vampire ripped out his father’s throat with its teeth. After making coffee he relieved Viktor from his watch and spent the time until sunrise wondering how he could build his spiritual strength and stamina in order to do more and greater miracles, and whether faith alone could destroy the vampire.

  CHAPTER 20

  Corruption

  Chandor rode point, his eyes scanning for danger. Their progress was slow but steady as the wagons crept across the grassy plain behind him. The sky was clear and blue. The warmth of the sun was offset by a chill north wind that ensured he kept his black cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

  Casanath walked up alongside the plodding Sandy. “Morning, Chandor. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  Chandor shrugged, “Company might be nicer than my memories.”

  “Great. I’m really keen to ask you some questions about your magic.”

  Chandor frowned at the term, but nodded.

  “I’ve always been told that priests have very different magic to magicians, but it doesn’t look that different to me. I mean, you have power, you say words and make gestures, and magic happens.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “In what way is it different?”

  “My power comes from the Gods.”

  “How do you know?”

  Chandor shrugged, “I pray, the Gods respond.”

  “Not always,” countered Casanath. “And you have limits. If the power is from the Gods then surely you would be able do as many spells a day as you want.”

  Chandor frowned as he tried to recall the arguments the Tinsley priests had articulated so effortlessly. “Well, the Gods have unlimited power, obviously, but the Sacred Texts say that you need faith to do miracles. It is my lack of faith that limits what I can do.”

  “Ok, but having faith isn’t enough is it? You also need to pray if you want a miracle to occur.”

  Chandor shrugged, “That’s not strictly true, but so what if it is?”

  “Well, that’s no different from me. As a wizard I gather power, but to release it and channel it to do what I want, I need to use words and gestures. All three together is what we call a spell. Isn’t it the same for you?”

  Chandor scowled. “No. The words and gestures aren’t what’s important. They remind us that miracles come from the Gods, and ensure the glory goes to the Gods.”

  “Really?”

  “I�
�m telling you, it’s about faith. When I pray, I trust the Gods to intervene in the world – that’s a miracle.” Chandor could feel himself getting frustrated.

  “Relax, Chandor. All I’m postulating is that what we do is exactly the same when you examine it closely. We both gather power – I attribute it to a learned skill, you attribute it to the Gods. We both perform arcane actions – I call mine a spell, you call yours a prayer. We both cause supernatural events to occur – I call mine magic, you call yours a miracle. My point is, magicians and priests aren’t all that different. You’re just a different kind of magician.”

  “What I do is not magic. I don’t make the Gods obey me!” Chandor was now angry.

  “Well, you believe it’s the Gods, but there is no evidence. One don’t need Gods to explain what you do. I think that where I draw and channel power through conscious manipulation, you achieve the same via intuitive emotional-”

  He pointed at her furiously, “You’re twisting the Texts! You try to glorify mankind, instead of the Gods!”

  “Why are you so threatened? I’m just trying to understand.”

  “You are blaspheming!” Chandor shouted, spit flying from his mouth.

  “I’m not saying magic isn’t miraculous. It is no less amazing if your belief in the Gods gives you power.”

  “Shut up! By Otec, I’ll…” he hadn’t realised he had his mace in his hand until Lander stepped between him and Casanath.

  “Easy there, Chandor. You’re starting to sound like a fanatic.”

  Casanath nodded vehemently, “Exactly, let’s just…”

  “Casanath – leave it!” Lander interrupted. “Can’t you see you’re getting under his skin?”

  The wizard pouted but held her tongue.

  Chandor gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak quietly, even if he couldn’t keep his voice polite, “Excuse me. I’m going to ride ahead for a while.” He urged Sandy into a trot and put some distance between himself and the rest of the caravans. Even though he knew it was dangerous, he needed some space. He felt that being with other people might be even more dangerous.