Whispering Lake
the cool wind swirling through Blackmar Forest. They wafted in a whimsical waltz under the dark treed canopy, weaving between trunk and branch, until arriving at Whispering Lake.
The Lady Leila floated aimlessly in the small lake in the middle of the forest.
The vessel had arrived of its own accord, for none of the companions on board had been conscious to steer. The friends remained motionless in their deeply concussed slumber. The Rolling River had delivered the vessel with haste, and Whispering Lake had hungrily drawn in the boat, like so many before it. The place itched with a strange magic.
After many hours of pointless circling, the Lady Leila saw its first sign of life. Coal stirred. The dwarf had been the first to experience the power of the concussive potions hurled by the orc warrior they had encountered, and like many of his kin, he had a hardy constitution. He sat up with much effort, his head reeling. His normally well-braided beard was a ratty mess, and his clothes rumpled in odd places. He tried to focus his eyes to see if his companions were alright, but his head hung heavy and rolled from side to side as he moved.
He found Orin crumpled against the side of the boat. Coal fought to maintain focus. Though he was unable to clearly see the young man, he placed a hand on the guardian’s chest and felt his breath. He fumbled over to Ellaria, and relief flooded him as he found her breathing as well. Then to Ezel. His little gnomish friend’s body heaved up and down. Even in his delirious state, Coal saw the gnome must have used a significant amount of energy to get the group away from their orc foes. His slight body looked weak—his chest and cheeks more sunken than usual.
Coal hauled himself to the bow of the boat, leaning on the front post so he might be able to pinpoint where they were. He clung to the post, using his sturdy dwarven muscles to hold himself fast. He scanned their surroundings, his head dipping heavily.
“Boehlen’s beard ...” he grumbled.
The small lake was enclosed on all sides by trees. No inlet could be seen, nor any outlet. The boat spun evenly, not drifting to one shore or another. He pushed himself away from the front post and trudged each leg forward, feeling as though his boots were filled with lead. Coal slumped into position at the aft control levers and began to sway. The motion did nothing to help his foggy mind.
If only he could get the Lady Leila to the shore, they could set up camp, recover, and figure out their next move. But, it was all the dwarf could do to keep himself conscious enough to maneuver the levers. He worked hard at them, throwing all his dense weight into the levers to get the momentum he needed. His looping mind soon became discouraged when he realized that, even though he was moving the boat forward, they were no closer to the shore. No matter what direction he tried, no shore neared.
Whispers on the wind tickled his ears with untranslatable suggestions. His mind rolled backward and then forward. His eyes strained to capture a singular tree on the shore, something to ground him, to steady him. Instead, the shore began to bend in his vision, and the whispering overwhelmed the dwarf, dropping him from the levers into the abyss of unconsciousness.
Sometime later, Ezel jolted awake from an unseen dream. The gnome rubbed at his ribs. He felt as if he’d been hit by an avalanche, a feeling he knew all too well, as he and Coal had been caught in one in their past travels—something he never wanted to experience again.
His head was woozy, and he eased himself to his feet, using the side of the boat as leverage. He looked out over the small lake but saw nothing from that side. After checking on Ellaria, he moved to the other side. Nothing.
The gnome shook his head. Nothing? How can there be nothing?
He shook his head vigorously, trying to rattle his confusion. Still nothing. He was unsure whether his mind was playing tricks on him or if their surroundings were an illusion. Surely, they couldn’t have entered the lake without an inlet. There must be one somewhere, but he could not see it.
Ezel made his way to the aft and found his stalwart dwarven companion slumped in a heap beside the control levers.
He must have awoken for a time. But what caused him to ...?
The whisper of an ancient and horrible language Ezel did not know breathed into his pointed ears. His greyish skin crawled, and a sudden realization of the danger sobered his mind to a functional clarity.
A runic tattoo on his forehead blazed, giving the gnome the appearance of having three burning blue eyes. His surroundings morphed. The lake was overgrown on the edges, the sunbeams no longer shone through, and bacteria teemed across the water. As the illusion fell away from reality, Ezel identified far off an inlet or outlet—he could not tell which in his hazy state. He quickly turned, searching for another, and spied one nearer to the Lady Leila.
Reality continued to unfurl around them. Like drawing back a mystical curtain, the tentacles of a wretched beast came into view. In Ezel’s shock, the whispers of the grotesque monster nearly convinced him to go back to sleep. The monster’s attempt was half-hearted, for it foolishly thought its little prey wouldn’t require much coaxing. Ezel shook his head quickly, snapping back to the beast’s grip on their vessel.
Gantendril!
Ezel had not encountered a gantendril before, but during his time on the Gant Sea, he had met others who had. The tales they told were horrifying. Gantendrils found calm, seemingly safe waters where they would wait for unassuming vessels. The gantendril was not a creature that liked to work for its food. Vessels would seek calm waters, only to be confused into unconsciousness by whispering winds. The crew members would eventually starve to death before the gantendril would eat them, boat and all. The obese, tentacled monsters didn’t care for their food to fight and wriggle within their bellies. Their illusionary magic was strong enough to trick the eyes and daze the mind. Ezel had to act quickly before the monster realized it needed to enchant him harder.
He was too weakened by his previous battle to fight the monster with magic, especially if he had to hold his vision-clearing spell. He grabbed Orin’s sword and cleaved heavily into the tentacle on the starboard side of the boat. A hideous screech resounded as putrid ichor sprayed from the writhing tentacle and coated the boat. Ezel’s head lolled as the gantendril attempted to invade his mind once more, pressing in with more force. Ezel hurled himself to the port side, slashing another tentacle as he did. The next pain-filled shriek from the monster broke its mental lock on the gnome.
Ezel shifted his energy to other runes on his hands and pushed with all his might. If he could get them away from the gantendril and heading down the closer of the two waterways, perhaps, with some fortune, they might be able to escape before the gnome passed out again. If the waterway was an inlet though, he feared they would fall right back into the gantendril’s trap, and that would be the end of the Lady Leila and her crew.
A momentary vision of the destructive power of the young dragon flooded into Ezel’s memory.
No!
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let them fall prey to such a fate. Their mission was too important.
Arcane energy surged through his tiny frame as he pushed with everything he had. Darkness crept over his mind. His head swayed. The whispers sounded sweet, helpful even, tempting him to sleep. He had so little energy. If he could just rest, maybe he could help his friends later. Just a little rest ...
A hand clamped around the struggling gnome’s foot, and a wave of energy washed over him. Ellaria had half-awoken from her own daze and gripped the gnome’s foot with all the encouragement she could muster. Swirling green power transferred from her fingertips into the gnome. Though Ezel was confused by the sudden shift in the situation, he also saw the opportunity. He took a breath and focused on tapping into whatever magic Ellaria shared with him. His body tightened as he prepared for one final attempt to blast them free from the gantendril. Without a word, the blue fires roared fiercer, and Ezel let go a blast of energy unlike any he had ever released.
The jarring from the blast and the subsequent release by the gantendril threw the occupants of the Lady Leila sprawling onto the fore of the boat, unconscious once more. The boat bounced on the water toward the nearer waterway, which was indeed an outlet. Their vessel caught the swift current of the outlet, and the Lady Leila carried her crew down the Rolling River, through Blackmar Forest, toward the coast.
Behind them, the gantendril lurched and writhed in agony and rage. It did not like fighting food. It did not like it one bit. It slumped into the water of the Whispering Lake once again, hungry and angry.
A deer in the wood of Blackmar heard a sweet whisper on the wind flowing through the berry bush it was gnawing. How thirsty it had become all of a sudden. Perhaps it needed to walk to the lake.