Cseriana Adventuress Episode 1

Episode 1

“Dark Water” by

Jim Anuszczyk

© 2012 - Jim Anuszczyk

“Look, nobody made you come. Would you just stop whining!”

Her whisper was harsh, too harsh. Should could see the sting on Junter’s weathered, stubbly face. She fingered the pommel of her broadsword and turned away, staring intently at the vines hanging over the cave mouth, less than fifty feet away.

“No, I won’t stop!” he hissed back. “This is nuts. If we head back right now, we can still make roll call. You know? So we get paid? Paid is good, Cseriana. It’s how we eat.”

Softening her expression, she turned back around.

“I get it, Junter. I really do. It’s just not enough anymore.” She yanked off her fake mustache and held it out. “If I have to paste this stupid thing on and dress up like a man one more time, I’m going to kill someone.”

“So?” “Not like that!” she snapped, then ducked as her voice echoed off the cliff.

“Damn it. If they’re in that cave, I just gave away our

position. Are you happy?”

“Not really. Why don’t you take out your frustrations on some idiot peasant like everyone else?”

She smiled. Junter was a true mercenary, no sentiment, no mercy, just a solid, manly, killing machine. She glanced back at the cliff. Nothing disturbed the vines, not even the strong breeze that shifted the leaves right in front of her. Her eyebrow arched as she turned back to face him.

“Look at those vines.”

“Yeah.”

“Now look at this bush.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t see that?”

“Damn it, Cseriana. I hate it when you do that. If you want to tell me something, just say it. Don’t make me figure it out. If I could figure things out, do you think I’d serve Lord Kallingar?”

She chuckled at his exasperation. “Yeah, ok. The breeze isn’t moving those vines. I don’t see any reason for it.”

“Huh, you’re right. Great. Now what is it, sorcery or something?

We should just head back. There could be a monster in there.”

“A monster? You think a sorcerous monster lairs three leagues from the city gates. C’mon Junter. Don’t be a moron. What I’m saying is, there’s something wrong about those vines. Could be sorcery. Could be something else. I want to see. If it really is the bastards who stole the idol from the Hunter’s Temple, then I’m done with the whole merc thing. I’m going to toss this fuzzy mustache in the river, buy myself a horse and supplies, and head off to find my fortune. So, are you in or not?”

“Yeah, I’m in.”

Cseriana smiled again. She knew that puppy-dog look in his eyes.

She softened her voice again. “All right, let’s go.”

She pointed toward the right side of the cave. Junter moved off without a word, circling through the underbrush to the foot of the cliff. Cseriana darted through the underbrush like a wolf. Within moments, they stood on opposite sides of the vine covered cave.

Something’s wrong here. She glanced at the low vines, then the higher ones above the cave mouth. Though the leaves were the same color, the shapes were wrong. Higher up, they were narrow, like a javelin. Down here, they were wider, like the obsidian spearheads of the island tribes. Movement caught her eye. Junter raised the tip of his broadsword and nudged the nearest vine.

“No!” she hissed.

In a whipping, green blur of motion, the vines engulfed Junter, from his sword to his neck and half of his face. The warrior grunted like an ox and ripped the dagger from his belt. Cseriana leapt forward, raised her sword, and stopped. The moment Junter’s dagger touched the vines, green tendrils engulfed it along with his arm to the elbow. Junter thrashed his entire body, desperate to break free, but utterly helpless against the strong, flexible vines.

She watched, motionless. If she tried to slash the vines, she’d just end up wrapped in green, writhing death. She wasn’t strong enough to pull him free. The trap was perfect, from this side.

Without another thought, she slipped into the gap left by the attacking vines. The slightest edge of one heavy boot grazed the tip of a single leaf. Another whipping green blur engulfed her boot.

She yanked her foot from the boot and rolled deeper into the cave.

Panic rose in Junter’s guttural grunts.

There! On the ceiling of the cave, a single, trunk-like vine branched into dozens of tendrils, spreading out across the opening.

Clutching her broadsword in two hands, she leapt high, swinging with all her might, and cleaved the trunk in two. A low, painwracked moan echoed from the depths of the cave. Cseriana’s eyes widened. What the hell was that?

Junter swore like a northern sailor as he fell free from the vines.

“Took you long enough!” he barked.

“Ever see vines growing out of a cave?” she said with a grin.

“What?” he snapped, frustrated and perplexed.

“Look!” she said, pointing up at the trunk-like vine.

Junter poked his head through the motionless vines, looked up, then at her, then back up again. “I’d rather go back north and fight a white bear than do that again. If there’s more...”

She smiled again, jammed her foot back into her boot, and motioned with her head toward the darkness of the cave.

“Coming?” she asked, turning away.

“Yeah,” he grunted and followed.

The sunlight only penetrated a dozen yards. Cseriana unslung her pack and dug out a torch. Three flashing strikes of steel on flint and the torch sprung to life. Fractured rock from an ancient cavein cast deep, almost unnatural shadows. She stared intently into the darkness, watching for any sign of movement. A shiver ran down her neck. She licked her lips and pressed on.

A few dozen steps later, Cseriana stopped. Ahead, the cave split into two passages. She glanced down, then up. The thick trunk from the vines ran along the ceiling overhead and down the left passage. That thing certainly didn’t seem natural. That implied someone must have put it here. She followed it. Junter’s whisper echoed from behind her.

“Figures,” was all he said. *

*

*

After walking, climbing, and clambering through the cavern for nearly an hour, Junter whispered again.

“How much longer are we going to follow that thing?”

“Not much. Look, it’s getting thicker. That’s gotta mean something.”

As the echo of her whisper died, Cseriana rounded a huge boulder and stopped, mouth agape. Before her, on the edge of utter blackness, a huge stone skull sat on the muddy shoreline of an underground lake. From the skull’s right eye grew the massive vine-trunk. She stepped forward, astounded at its size. The top of her head barely reached the skull’s brow. She moved closer still, eyes locked on the pitch blackness of its left eye socket.

Something splashed in the darkness beyond the skull. The sound snapped Cseriana from her trance. She fought the urge to run for cover. What was it about the utter blackness of the skull’s left eye that captivated her? She stepped even closer,

holding up the torch, closer and closer to the skull. No light penetrated that socket, none at all.

Cseriana reached up and touched the skull. It felt no different than the stones she’d clambered over to get here. She slid her hand up slowly until it touched the darkness. She stared, amazed, as the tips of her fingers disappeared into inky blackness. Emboldened, she pushed her hand in deeper, sliding it along the bottom of the socket. She heard only the slightest, metallic sound as she touched something long and narrow. With a rush of triumph, she grasped it and snatched back her hand. There, in her hand, lay an oddly triangular, golden key.

Cseriana pursed her lips hard and caught the cry of elation in her throat. As Junter moved up to stand beside her, she raised an eyebrow, holding up the golden key. He scowled.

“C’mon. There’s no way that was put there without a reason.

Somewhere out there,” she said, gesturing toward the water and darkness, “is something worth hiding. If we can find it, well, just imagine...”

A doubtful shake of his massive head was his only response. *

*

*

The enormity of the underground lake astounded her. Who knew such things even existed. They’d been following the water’s edge, slogging through gray, sticky mud for at least an hour. She lit another torch and glanced over her shoulder.

Junter had fallen silent. He seemed neither amazed nor impressed by the dark lake. His face was as still as stone, like he could see the future and didn’t like it.

Cseriana looked away from his dour expression and pushed on. A few steps further, the muddy shoreline ended, leaving the dark water to lap at the stone wall of the cavern. Now what? She pursed her lips and glanced around. Nothing special caught her eye, just more cave. She took one step into the water. Junter hissed.

“This is madness! You can’t wade into dark water. What if you step right off a cliff? Your gear will drag you down so fast, you won’t stand a chance. This is it. It’s time to give up.”

She shook her head, but knew he was right about the water. Her heavy boots, pack, padded tunic, helmet, and leather breeches could drown her in ten feet of water. But what if some great treasure lay just ahead? Could she really just stop here and never know? No. She kicked off her boots and started to unbuckle her sword belt. Junter grabbed her wrists.

“No, Cseriana, I won’t let you do this. I can’t let you wade out into the darkness unarmed and utterly clueless. You have no idea what could happen, and no way to deal with it when it does.”

“You won’t let me?” she hissed. “Who the hell do you think you are? If you don’t have the balls for this, maybe you’d better turn back. I’m in this to the end, bitter or sweet.” She yanked her arms free and locked him in a venomous glare.

“You’re, you’re going to die.” His whisper was resigned, broken.

He turned away and trudged back along the shoreline.

She just stood there and stared as he disappeared into the blackness. Flint struck steel. A torch flared to life. As he moved further and further away, she realized how huge the lake was.

When he rounded some distant outcropping of rock and vanished, she shuddered. Utterly and completely alone, she bit her lip and stared off the way he went. Not one glimpse of his torchlight reached her eyes.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, she flopped down on the muddy bank and dumped out her pack, four torches, another tunic, flint, and a couple of day’s food. She looked forward, then back. Her torch, leaning against a rock beside her, flickered. She lit another and wrapped her arms around her knees. There was no time for this, no time to think. She knew she either had to head on or head back.

“No!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

She yanked off her helmet and coif and dropped them in the mud. It felt strange to let her hair fall down on her back. She grinned as she stripped off her breeches and tunic and tossed them

on the bank beside her helmet. A strip of cloth, torn from her tunic, served to fasten the gold key around her neck. As she rebuckled her sword belt, she imagined Junter’s face if he saw her like this, half naked with her hair down.

Smiling, she grabbed the lit torch and a spare and waded into the cool water. She felt so light without the muddy boots and all that gear. Mud squished between her toes as she waded along the wall.

“I’ll go until I have to light the second torch,” she whispered to herself. The last two should be enough to get me out if I can make it back to here. She blew out a slow breath through pursed lips.

Trying to ignore the chill of the dark water as it touched her bare thighs, she moved carefully but steadily, deeper into the darkness. *

*

*

When her torch started guttering, Cseriana’s heart sank. The lake seemed to go on forever. Though it had yet to get deeper than her waist, there was no sign of an end. If she didn’t turn back now, her last torch would go out before she could reach her clothes and gear. Clenching her teeth, she lit the last torch, pressed on and immediately stubbed her foot on a flat rock. As she felt around under the water, she realized the flat stone was also rectangular.

Another lay right beside it, and another. A walkway?

She stepped up and drew her sword. By running the blade along the edge of the stones beneath the water, she found the raised, stone walkway reasonably easy to follow. She glanced nervously at the torch and pressed on. The walkway left the cave wall, heading straight out into open water.

In the first dozen steps, Cseriana felt the slope. The walkway ascended. Another dozen steps and she could see it emerging from the water. Her heart pounded. Something was up there on the edge of the torchlight. She inched forward and held out the torch.

A hideous statue carved from dark stone loomed above her, easily ten feet tall. Its legs bent backward, like a horse. Its upper body hunched forward, with its hands together, forming a bowl.

Its face transfixed her. Massive tusks jutted up from its protruding lower jaw, past a narrow, skull-like, slit of a nose, and almost reached its bulbous, faceted eyes. Just above the eyes, thick, bull-like horns protruded from its forehead.

What madness is this? Who would carve such a thing?

Why? When the urge to run away made her hands shake, she suddenly knew exactly why this thing was here, to scare people away. From what? Cseriana swallowed hard and inched closer until she stood so close she could

touch it.

Half expecting it to spring to life, she held the torch beneath its massive, cupped hands. As the flame blackened the stone, she exhaled and shook her head. It’s a scarecrow, not a monster. She stepped around behind it and discovered that the walkway ended just a few feet later. Continuing around it, she found herself staring back up at its ugly face without learning a thing. Only two points about this monstrosity held her interest at all, the cupped hands and hideous face. Could it be so simple? Put something in its hands and somehow it reveals a secret?

Sheathing her sword and sticking the torch in the space between the statue’s elbow and body, she reached up, grabbed its hands, and pulled. The stone beneath her feet fell away so suddenly that she barely managed to hold on. Only the stone directly beneath the statue remained. Cseriana hung there, with nothing below her but dark water. Craning her neck, she managed a glance over her shoulder. The walkway was completely gone.

“First things first,” she whispered to herself through clenched teeth as she shifted her weight from side to side. One hard pull and a kick brought her high enough to hook her leg on its elbow. From there, it was easy enough to scramble up and straddle its massive forearm.

“Well, this is nice,” she whispered, rolling her eyes.

Yanking the torch free, she held it aloft and scanned the darkness. No sign of the walkway. The cave wall lay beyond the torchlight. There was nothing but her, this ugly statue, and darkness.

“Very nice,” she whispered as she smacked the demonic face with an open hand. “So, some idiot like me finds this place, makes an offering into your nasty hands, and gets dumped into the lake to drown for their trouble.”

Junter’s face flashed into her mind. Had she been wearing all her gear, she’d be drowning right now. If she ever got out of this, she owed him one. Shuddering, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was all this just a trap or did it serve another purpose. After all, if it was

just a trap, the statue was pointless. Why not just have the walkway collapse when someone reached the end? That would drown them just the same. Wouldn’t it?

“What’s your secret?” she whispered, leaning in toward its face, searching for any sign, a seam, some part that could be pulled, pushed, turned, nothing.

After jamming the torch back under its arm, she reached out anyway, tugged on its tusks, pushed it eyes, and pulled and twisted its massive horns. Nothing moved. Prodding in its mouth and ears revealed nothing. The nose seemed like the next obvious thing, but it didn’t have one. There was just a slot there. Leaning in, she traced its nose slit with her finger. It was thicker at the bottom and tapered to a point, an odd triangle, like a skull. The key!

Clenching the key in her teeth, she carefully untied the strip of cloth from around her neck. Then, holding the key carefully in both hands, she inserted it into its skull-like nose. A satisfying click made her heart skip a beat. As she turned it, the whole statue shuttered and vibrated. She released the key and clutched the statue’s horns. Water splashed softly below her. As she watched, the walkway slowly rose back into place.

Cseriana snatched the key, swung down to the walkway, grabbed the torch and ran for the cave wall. As it came into view, something stopped her dead in her tracks. She crouched and drew her sword.

Something was different. She looked down at the stones of the walkway and flinched. She shouldn’t be able to see them. Before, this close to the cave wall, the walkway was submerged. Her eyes followed the path forward. The stones seemed to go right into the wall.

Holding the torch high, she inched forward. The last stone of the walkway jutted from the wall. She leaned forward and craned her neck. Weird. There was no gap at all between the wall and the walkway stone. It just vanished into the stone, just like her hand when she stuck it into the pitch black eye socket of the giant, stone skull. Cseriana extended her sword. The point slipped into the wall

as if it wasn’t there. Stepping forward, she watched in amazement as more and more of the sword simply vanished into the stone.

Cseriana pursed her lips and lunged forward. Instead of smacking into the wall, she passed right through it. Beyond, a narrow, paved, stonework corridor stretched off into darkness. A distant, hissing whisper echoed off the wall, followed by a splash somewhere behind her.

Pushing the torch through the wall, she stuck her head back through into the cave. Waves lapped the shore as though something had just fallen into the water. Distant whispers echoed across the water. Swallowing hard, she pulled back, turned, and took two dozen quick steps down the corridor. More whispers, louder than before, almost distinct enough to understand, seemed to come at her from every direction. More voices joined them, and more, until dozens of whispering voices echoed all around her. “Cseriana...� they all whispered at once.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she turned and ran down the corridor. The whispering faded away. Moments later, the corridor ended in a door of dark stone. Desperate to get away from the insidious whispering, she pushed on the door, straining her back, legs, and arms. It swung open just enough to slip through. The whispers rose behind her, accompanied by a sliding, slipping, wet sucking sound. She dodged through the door, forced it closed, and exhaled slowly.

Someone stood next to her. She jumped back and raised her sword. The figure was motionless, a statue? Though painted in lifelike detail, it stood as still as stone. She was beautiful from her angular face to her jeweled necklace, belt and long, modest gown.

Only her stern expression ruined the effect. The statue appeared to disapprove, like a noblewoman looking down her nose at dirty peasant children Cseriana grinned and leaned against the door. It moved, pushing toward her. Something black, thin and fleshy slipped through the open crack. Cseriana stared, transfixed by its oily, blue-black skin.

She pushed hard on the door. The massive stone crushed the

tentacle. Gray, oozing, slime ran down the stone as dozens of voices howled in agony.

“What the hell is that?”

Cseriana stepped around the statue and pushed. It toppled slowly, then fell against the door with a massive thud. Something bounced on the floor, tinkling, small and metallic. There, next to the statue’s face, a necklace sparkled in the torchlight. At the end of a simple golden cord lay a round, gold pendent adorned with a single, deep red, hemispherical stone.

Though the howling subsided, the whispering continued, dozens of voices, all whispering gibberish that chilled her and shivered her spine. The door shuddered with a massive impact. The statue shifted forward, then rolled back.

Cseriana put her back to the door and braced her legs. The door shuddered again and pushed her forward. With everything she had, she pushed back. As the door slammed shut, bits of fractured stone showered the floor. She looked over her shoulder. Feint cracks riddled the stone. It isn’t going to hold for long.

Still glinting at her feet, the necklace caught her eye again. Could it be some kind of talisman or magical protection? Cseriana dropped her torch, snatched the necklace from around the statue’s neck and put it on, backing away. As the weight of the talisman settled against her skin, bright light filled the room.

The statue slid forward, pushed by the door. Three, black, fleshy tentacles slipped through the crack, reaching, seeking. Cseriana clenched her teeth and lunged forward, hacking hard with her broadsword. The fleshy tentacle split open like rotten meat.

Dozens of voices howled in a chaotic chorus. Oily, gray ooze splattered. Steam hissed up from her blade.

Cseriana backed away as the tentacles withdrew. Something glopped on the floor. Looking down, she saw the end of her sword, melted, dripping into a silvery pool. Steam hissed up toward her hand as the blade continued to melt. As she threw it down and stepped back, she bumped into something hard and irregular.

Unarmed and feeling doomed, Cseriana spun around and stared into the face of another statue.

This statue wore the bulky furs of a northern nomad. Her face was stern. Malice flickered in her deep set eyes. The necklace caught her eye. The same necklace she now wore. The belt, it was the same as the other statue. As she stared at it, a strange shadow flickered around its edge. Could it be like the necklace? Cseriana reached out pulled it free, and put it on, hoping desperately for something that would help her against that thing.

Her slight clothing vanished. Cseriana’s mouth dropped open.

Something warm and weird slid into her mind, probing her thoughts, feeling out her nature. The door shuddered. Chunks of stone showered to the floor. Then the belt started to grow.

Tiny, dark red beads erupted from it, streaming up and down her body, covering her from chest to hip in a strange, alien hide the color of deep red wine. More tiny beads cascaded down from her knees and elbows, wrapping her feet and hands in thick black boots and gloves. It felt like nothing and armor at the same time.

A huge chunk of stone thundered to the floor. Looking up, she watched in horror as an enormous mass of black, oily flesh squeezed through a gap in the door. As it did, more chunks of stone fell away. When the first tentacles reached the floor, dozens of mouths opened on the fleshy surface and whispered madness.

Cseriana’s eyes darted around the room in search of anything she could use for a weapon. There! On the far side, almost lost in a dark alcove, another statue lurked. As she darted toward it, an elegant sword hilt cast strange, inconsistent shadows. The door collapsed, thundering a heap of thick stone shards across the floor.

The whispering rose, a mad chorus of dark, hungry jubilation.

Snatching the sword from the statue, Cseriana spun on her heal and set her jaw. Dozens of mouths with hundreds of fangs, erupted from the black, fleshy bulk. Oily tendrils rose and fell in a chaotic, hypnotic, writhing pattern, then suddenly withdrew as two massive tentacles, each ending in a fanged maw, erupted from the creature’s bulk, surging at her, ravenous with dark hunger.

Ducking to one side, she barely dodged the dripping tentacles. Cseriana turned abruptly and slashed up with her new blade. As it sliced through the black, fleshy mass of tentacles, she marveled at the blade’s balance. Gray ooze dripped down the gleaming blade, doing no harm at all. The creature howled in dozens of voices as the half-severed tentacle flopped,

writhing, on the floor. With a flash of her blade, Cseriana sliced it clean. The tentacle, free of the body, melted as it sank to the floor, forming a slick, oily, gelatinous pool.

Cseriana seized on the creature’s howling hesitation and stepped forward, slashing at the other tentacle. The creature hissed, reared back, and surged forward biting as a half dozen, huge mouths erupted. She rolled back and to one side, narrowly avoiding bites from mouths so large they could easily take her whole leg. Too late, she saw the trickery. As the remaining massive tentacle struck down from overhead, she realized all those mouths were just a distraction to throw her off balance. She rolled wildly, kicking her feet hard in a wild attempt to dodge. The oozing maw clamped down on her left ankle with astounding pressure, pressure, but little pain. Cseriana hacked and hacked again. The mass of the creature heaved backward, leaving the severed tentacle to melt, splashing to the ground and down her leg.

When she regained her feet, she looked down at her ankle. The creature’s fangs had failed to penetrate the thick, black boots created by the belt.

The whispering rose to a mind-numbing cacophony. The creature withdrew, gathering upon itself, roiling as a single massive tentacle erupted from its top. Cseriana stepped forward, holding her blade at an angle, ready to slice the massive tentacle as it struck. As she approached, the top of the tentacle split into six smaller tentacles, each with two, thick fangs. It surged forward. Cseriana started an arcing swing. The tentacle shifted directions. In a lightening, fluid motion, it withdrew the mouths, formed a single, massive, fist-like knob and brought it crashing into her side.

Cseriana sailed across the room and smashed heavily into the wall. She gasped for breath. Each gulp fired a stabbing pain through her side. The creature exhaled dozens of satisfied moans and slid forward. A single, enormous mouth split it wide, wide enough to devour her in a single bite. As she stared down the maw of the beast, a strange, unnatural point of light glowed deep in its mass. She rolled to her feet in a crouch. The enormous mouth

yawed open. Cseriana dove forward into the open maw, thrusting with all her might at the glowing point. Sword bit unnatural flesh, passed through, and pierced the glow with a loud crack.

The beast wailed a deafening cry in so many voices Cseriana released her sword and clapped her hands over her ears. It reared back, upending her, and spat her out in a massive, vomiting shudder. Crashing down hard on the stone floor, Cseriana stayed down and watched the creature from a prone sprawl. It heaved and shuddered, quaked and folded in on itself, shivered, undulated, and split, flooding the floor with thick, gelatinous ooze. She leapt to her feet and backed away. As the last of the creature’s remains spread across the chamber’s floor, two objects lay at its center, her sword and a black gem, as big as a man’s fist, split in two.

Staggering over to the toppled statue, Cseriana sat, rubbing her bruised ribs. Her eyes wandered the room as she regained her breath. At her feet, her torch lay doused in the pool of thinning muck. When had that gone out? There was no light in the room at all, yet she could see. She glanced down at the amulet and grinned.

The deep-red hide stretched across her body glistened though there was no light for it to reflect.

She pursed her lips and looked away. Her new sword lay on the slick stone. The muck from the creature had become so watery that it had mostly dispersed. She stood, walked to the center of the chamber, and picked up the sword.

“It sure would be easier if you had a scabbard,” she said to the sword.

Faint, red glimmers danced around the red stone in its pommel.

Cseriana reach up and traced a line across the stone, watching as the glow followed her finger. The red stone shifted slightly. Raising an eyebrow, she looked closer, pinched the stone and wiggled it. It moved, just a little. Pulling on it didn’t work. The stone’s arc was too smooth. The slightest push on the stone and the sword vanished. A ring appeared on the middle finger of her right hand.

Cseriana chuckled, turned her hand over to examine the ring, then, on an impulse, clenched her fist. The sword reappeared so quickly

she almost dropped it. Another push on the stone and the sword was gone, leaving only the ring.

“Now that’s something,” she whispered, grinning.

At her feet lay the broken halves of the creatures heart stone. A slight glow flickered around them too, especially at the center. She wondered. If her sight had changed when she put on the necklace, were the stones really glowing or was it something only the amulet allowed her to see? She pulled the necklace off, utter darkness.

Looking down, there was no glow at all. There was nothing but absolute darkness. Had she faced that creature without the amulet, she’d never have seen the glow of its heart. It would have devoured her.

Placing the necklace back around her neck, she bent down and picked up the black stone halves. The glow was fading quickly.

They’d soon be nothing more than very odd stones. Hopefully, they’d fetch enough to buy a horse and provisions.

Please visit

Cseriana.com

for more exciting, fun, adventure stories!