Gilded Serpent Danielle Jensen (i can read with my eyes shut .TXT) 📖

“You got that in hand, Gertrude?” Agrippa asked, and when she nodded, he motioned to the rest of the group. “First rule of this voyage is that we protect the boat. Without it, we are all dead, so we put it before any one individual. Now let’s get it out of the water and into the center of camp.”

Killian was dripping sweat by the time they had the heavy vessel settled in the middle of the camp, which was surrounded by a circle of charred wood. Agrippa handed him an axe. “We need six good-size trees felled for our perimeter. Venturing out in the dark to get more isn’t an option.”

“What attacks at night?” Killian asked, eyeing the growing shadows warily.

Hefting an axe of his own, Agrippa’s jaw tightened. “Fear.”

 82LYDIA

Coming here had been folly.

Lydia used what remained of daylight to finish wrapping a bandage around the woman’s shoulder, then helped her lean back against the side of the overturned boat. That she’d been the only one injured was pure luck—luck, and Killian being his lunatic self, jumping out of the boat the way he had. Her heart had been in her throat the entire time, certain he’d be shot. Or if not shot, then left behind by the boat, because of a surety, Agrippa would have abandoned him.

Then the Cel devil himself was kneeling next to her, holding out a small pouch. “Have her chew a pinch of this, and it will help her sleep through the pain. We won’t be going anywhere until dawn.”

“What is it?”

“My own special concoction,” he replied. “She’ll sleep like the dead, trust me.”

Not a chance.

But the injured woman held out a pleading hand, so Lydia grudgingly gave her a pinch of the green leaves, watching as Agrippa rejoined Killian and Baird to fell trees.

The location they’d chosen for the camp was unremarkable as far as she could tell. The ground was packed-down dirt and rock covered with fresh snow, but in a perimeter around the camp were built up piles of charred wood.

What sort of creatures prowled these mountains that a group this size needed to surround itself with fire? That the wildmen, who appeared nothing short of fearless to her eyes, went to ground every night in order to avoid?

An answer to be had soon enough, as the shadows stretched longer, the women joining the men in helping to drag the felled trees inside the perimeter.

“Not these,” she heard Agrippa say to one of the women, tossing a nettled branch back into the woods. “The smoke is toxic. Puts you to sleep right quick. Here, drag this one over to Baird instead.”

Baird methodically chopped the trees into firewood, which Agrippa then used to create equally spaced fires until the group was surrounded by roaring flames. The heat, at least, was welcome, her clothing soaked from being endlessly splashed by the rapids.

Retrieving a large pot from the pile of supplies, she stepped between fires, going to the edge of the river to fill it. She also took the time to rinse the blood from her gloves, the water like ice against her skin.

“You all right?” Killian knelt on the rocks next to her, dipping a hand into the river and using the water to wash the sweat from his face.

“Yes.” Sitting back on her haunches, she dried her hands on her skirts. “You need to quit showing off, though. Normal people can’t do that sort of thing, and eventually, they are going to start to question why you can.”

He frowned, scratching at his beard. “I wasn’t showing off—I was saving our asses.”

“Next time, do it with less flair.”

Her tone was more cutting than she intended, but instead of snapping back at her, Killian caught her arm. “What’s wrong?”

I killed a woman. Her chin trembled, because every time she blinked, she saw the corrupted tender’s life fading into nothingness. “Nothing beyond the obvious. I’m fine.”

A whistle cut the air, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Agrippa motioning them back. Climbing to her feet, she reached down to pick up the heavy pot of water, but Killian picked it up first and carried it back to the cook fire.

“No more venturing out,” Agrippa warned the group. “Not for any reason. You’re going to hear all sorts of strange things tonight, but no matter what it is you think you hear, don’t step outside the perimeter unless you want to end up in a stomach.”

The little girl started to cry, and Lydia was surprised to see a look of guilt flash over Agrippa’s face. “You’re safe within camp, little one,” he said, then to her mother, “Stuff her ears with scraps of fabric. Stuff your own if you can’t handle the noise.”

With the ease of much practice, they continued setting up the camp, using a large piece of canvas fixed to the edge of the boat to create a tent of sorts. Killian was relegated to cooking once again, though she noted he kept a watchful eye on the trees, his expression telling her that his mark was warning him of danger.

The group had only just finished dinner when the last glows of the sun set, plunging the mountains into darkness. No one spoke, the only sound the rushing of the river and the crackle of flames, and Lydia held her hands up to the fire as the temperature dropped.

Then she heard it. Only faintly at first, the sound barely audible over the fire: crying.

“I hear something,” one of the women said. “Crying. There’s someone out there.”

“Not someone,” Agrippa clarified, poking at the fire. “Something. And I told you before you paid me what to expect from these creatures. Just ignore them.”

“Help! Help!” A child’s voice cut the air, full of terror, and Lydia clambered to her feet, searching the surrounding trees for motion. But she could see nothing but darkness.

“Try something new, you bastards!” Agrippa shouted. “I’ve heard this one before.”

Lydia ignored him, walking slowly to the perimeter, allowing her vision to go