As plans went, it wasn’t one of her best. Apart from having smaller numbers, they were on enemy ground that might be littered with traps her scouts hadn’t detected.
In their favor was surprise, the natural cowardice of the boggards, and the sheer audacity of the attack. At least Mirian hoped it was audacity. She supposed that’s what Ivrian would call it if she succeeded.
Rendak waited with her, sword ready, still as death no matter the sweat trickling down his face. Both stared past the single bush that separated them from the west end of the village and a half-dozen mud-daub huts. Leaning to the left, Mirian could just see the backs of a crowd of boggards listening to their chieftain harangue Tokello and Gombe. She would have liked to have known what they were saying, although she couldn’t imagine any circumstance when she would have occasion to learn their language. She wondered if some Pathfinder, somewhere, had done so.
Mirian’s fingers tightened on the wand in her right hand. It wasn’t the fighting she hated so much, but the waiting beforehand.
All at once the sound of lizardfolk laughter rolled out from the south side of the camp. Mirian saw the boggards rise up and search the brush, and then an even larger burst of lizardfolk laughter erupted into laughter from the north.
The chieftain roared. Boggards grabbed spears and charged away.
“Now,” she said, and she and Rendak were running as one down the lane of huts.
In no time at all they’d arrived at the central clearing. Tokello and Gombe were knotted by neck and wrists to blackened poles. Gombe, facing her, lit up with more amazement than delight.
Five boggards remained, including the chieftain. Two were poking fingers at Tokello’s robed stomach, almost like butchers evaluating a steer to find the best cut of meat.
Mirian’s luck held with the wand this time. Acid streamed forth and blew one boggard’s eye into glowing emerald ruin. The creature fell, gobbling even as Mirian pivoted and aimed at the chieftain.
He stood a head taller than the others, and was nearly twice as wide. She caught him as one of his bodyguards frantically grabbed his shoulder.
He howled and clutched the bubbling mark in his chest, then howled all the more as the fingers touching the injury began to burn.
Mirian tried to fire a third time, but it didn’t work, so she thrust the wand into its holster and charged the chieftain’s guards.
Boggards were inveterate cowards, and these two had seen her work magics that burned their leader. They turned and bounded toward the greenery. Their chieftain screeched plaintively after them.
Mirian slashed through his head.
He dropped, spewing blackish-red blood. Mirian scanned their surroundings, found no boggards watching. She whirled to see how Rendak fared.
She needn’t have worried: her first mate was more than a match for two boggards. Both of the amphibians were down and twitching, and Tokello was already free, somewhat dazedly rubbing her wrists.
“Glad you showed up,” Gombe said. “This ceremonial necklace was a little tight.” He made a good show at sounding casual, but his voice shook a little.
Rendak cut his friend’s rope free as Mirian heard the boggards calling to one another. Their heavy bodies crashed through the brush.
“Are you good to run?” Mirian asked.
“I think so.” Tokello shook her head in wonder, deep voice thick with gratitude. “May Gozreh bless you, Mirian. I should have known you’d come back for me.”
“Well, unless we get moving, we may still be on the menu,” Rendak said. “Come on!”
They ran, Rendak leading. Mirian drifted a little to the rear, wand at the ready.
Within half a league they were joined by Heltan and Jekka, who reported that the boggards were still scattered. There was no sign of Ivrian or Kalina until they reached the tower, where they found the two already waiting.
Mirian, Gombe, Rendak, and Tokello slipped on the haversacks while the others grabbed what little remained intact among their survival gear. Seeing Heltan struggle with the bag that held his books, Ivrian shouldered it.
And then they were off, for Mirian assured them the boggards wouldn’t remain disorganized forever.
She was right.
They had their first sign of them as Rendak and the lizardfolk wrestled their raft out of the weed bank. A spear arched out of the woods and stood quivering along the rail. The tip glistened—no doubt dipped in some form of poison.
Mirian whipped around and leveled the wand. Hoping to cow their pursuers, she blasted an innocent bush into melting ruin.
It bought them enough time to slip the raft into the river and board it, but it didn’t deter the boggards from their next rush. The expedition had poled almost to the middle when boggards erupted from the forest. Some hurled spears. Others leapt into the water.
Most of the weapons fell short. One struck the raft near Ivrian’s foot.
Gombe turned to call back at them. “Nothing but your own meat for your pots tonight!”
But his gloating proved premature. The boggards proved faster in the water than they were on land, closing until they were only a few body lengths from the raft.
More spears rained down, one taking Tokello in the side and sending her stumbling into the rail.
Mirian grabbed for the healer. Her fingers brushed Tokello’s robe but failed to grasp it as the older woman plunged over the side into the murky water. Even as Mirian cried out Tokello’s name and stretched down for her, pain exploded through her shoulder. She gasped, back arching, and twisted her neck to find a boggard spear lodged beside her shoulder blade. Blood welled as she pulled it out.
Tokello shouted. The healer had managed to grab hold of the raft to keep from being swept away.
Around her, the water began to churn.
Poor Tokello didn’t even have time to scream as the piranha closed in.
Behind the raft, boggards broke off their pursuit, swimming frantically for shore lest they fall prey to the ravenous school. Of Tokello, there was no sign, other than the furiously boiling water.
Sobbing in pain and remorse, Mirian rolled from the edge. “Tokello,” she mouthed, though she couldn’t hear. The world was growing shaky.
Ivrian snatched up her wand and shouted the activation word again and again. As Rendak dragged her from the raft’s edge. She saw Ivrian loosing deadly acid blasts at the boggards lining the receding shore.
She had the sense that they grounded on the far side, heard Rendak reassuring her that she’d be all right. And then everything whirled away into velvety blackness, free of stars, pain, and fallen friends.