Eaters of the Decayed Undead!

At last the little band of weary but anxious warriors arrived at the mysterious land that was their destination. The desert ended abruptly and the elevation dropped dramatically into a vast wilderness of thick and seemingly impenetrable jungle. Luckily Akkamaten's keen eyes spotted a well worn game trail that was surprisingly large enough to allow passage by horseback. This seemed a fortunate break but Akkamaten was disquieted by the mere fact that a trail of this width must have been made by very large creatures indeed. The big mercenary captain could see the anxiety in the eyes of his companions but no one commented. They didn't have to. Nonetheless they each descended quietly into the lushness of the dense vegetation that sang with the sounds of teeming wildlife. None of the veteran fighters needed reminding that near complete silence was the rule whilst entering unknown and potentially dangerous territory. Other than the expected curiosity aroused by the glimpsing of a few unusual birds and chattering primates the first day's journey was remarkably unremarkable. They made camp while it was still daylight and the exhausted party collapsed quickly into a deep slumber. Naturally, Akkamaten gave each member of the group an assigned hour for standing sentry duty. All save Bel Ti did a round on watch-Akkamaten did not trust him yet and even if he had, the boy's inexperience made him a liability.

They arose before dawn. Each person partook of a few mouthfuls of dried meant and a sip of water before pulling their sore bodies back into the saddle and continuing their vague quest. Within minutes, the roar of rushing waters reached their straining ears. In less than an hour's slow movement they came to a swiftly moving river rife with white water and treacherous rocks. They traveled up and down the river as Akkamaten studied with unflinching concentration for the ideal place to ford. He found only one, and it was hardly ideal. The water was slightly less swift in this particular area but fairly deep and at least twenty-five yards wide.

"We'll cross here," Akkamaten finally declared. "Keep a cool head and don't shout or get excited. That will only make the animals panic. We've forded worse before. I will lead, Maleek Bak Nur will bring up the rear. Slow and steady progress will be all that's neeeded and I wager we'll all reach the other side in splendid fashion."

The little speech was meant to steady everyone's nerves and hopefully instill some confidence in faces that now betrayed only worried expressions. Still, Akkamaten's own grim tone of voice and the seriousness in his eyes betrayed his own misgivings. However they couldn't stay where they were and going back was out of the question. Another day or two of riding might be needed before a better ford could be found, if at all. They would cross here.

Akkamaten stroked the neck of his mount and whispered soothing words of encouragement. Then horse and rider plunged into the surprisingly chilling waters. Nine soon followed and in due time the entire party was immersed in the swift moving current. Akkamaten rode the largest animal, but even so the waters reached over the horse's broad chest. The big mercenary held the reins tightly and the nervous mount traversed the slippery rocks wild-eyed and snorting from cold spray hitting its nostrils. There were some uneasy moments to be sure but eventually Akkamaten completed the perilous task and turned to encourage the others. "It's not that bad you see!" He said, trying to be heard over the crash of surging liquid.

At last only Ankbar and Maleek Bak Nur remained in the water. Ankbar was very near the bank with the young mercenary from Valusiun barely past midstream. He had many talents but was most cautious while riding horseback. Bak Nur had led a sequestered, isolated youth as was common amongst the nobility. Most of his time was spent studying and it wasn't until his teen years that he'd learned to ride. Still, he had progressed quickly and considered himself a fairly competent if not overly confident horseman. The young man's dark eyes scanned the roaring current anxiously as Ankbar made it to safety. Bak Nur allowed himself to glance up at just the moment his fellow mercenary cleared the water. Within a second of this action something incredibly horrible happened.

A cold wave of pure shock swept over Maleek Bak Nur as a huge serpent shot up from the depths of the river. It had the appearance of a monstrous snake poised to strike from a standing position! The head of the creature was not entirely snake-like however. It was broad with large almost human-like eyes that glared at the young mercenary with the most hideous of expression. Long sharp fangs dripping with some yellowish liquid flashed frightfully from the monsters mouth. Not even Akkamaten huge hands could come near to covering the width of the serpent's green, scaly body. The thing hissed and swayed from side to side, moving expertly in rhythm to the rushing white water. The startled young man kept his wits about him long enough to instantly draw his keen edged scimitar whilst his free hand struggled to maintain control of is terrified mount. Wide-eyed, Bak Nur stared in horror as the ghastly serpent raised ever higher out of the water until it virtually towered over the shuddering horse and its rider. Suddenly there was a loud thump to his rear and the mercenary felt his mount spasm and swerve. Bak Nur glanced backwards and realized another of the monstrosities had attacked the animal by sinking its long fangs into the horse's unprotected flanks. His mind racing, the desperate rider knew that the serpent creatures had let everyone pass, waiting to attack the last in line. This situation could have no good ending.

Then the horse slipped and went down altogether. The animal screamed and the mercenary found himself flailing frantically beneath the raging water. He blade was swept from his hand and for an instant, he glimpsed a chilling sight. At least a half-dozen of the monsters were beneath the water, attacking the horse's legs. Dark bloody swirls blinded the warrior for an instant but just as quickly he felt the fast flowing current seize him and bore him away from one peril towards an equally dangerous hazard...drowning. He was like a rag doll, tossed and flipped end over end as water rushed into his lungs, forcing precious oxygen out.

Incredibly his head broke the surface long enough to sputter and gasp for fresh air. He heard, or though he heard Akkamaten's booming voice shouting Bak Nur's name but then he was plunged down again and it was near impossible to gain any sort of bearing in the racing waters of the river. Oddly, he could think of little besides the possibility that he would surely either drown or be eaten by a monster and never live to claim the riches that he'd felt certain were so close at hand. Then his head glanced off a rock and he thought of nothing besides instinctively flailing about weakly and hopelessly. Stunned and half drowned the young warrior was swept along like a piece of driftwood.

Despite his dazed state a though somehow came to Maleek Bak Nur to stop struggling in the hope that simply going where the current took him might be preferable to struggling until he drowned to weak from exhaustion to fight back. Amazingly his head broke surface again and he sucked air back into his lungs and spat up water. In this fashion his head cleared the wet abyss at sufficient intervals to allow a few more gasping breaths. Bak Nur became vaguely aware that the roaring had become even louder and to his dread it became apparent that he and the water was rushing towards a massive waterfall. Once again he flailed with arms and legs desperately seeking something, anything with which he could make purchase or grasp hold of. There was nothing.

Then he felt himself falling and he tried to scream but again his mouth and lungs filled with water. For the longest instant he danced in mid air. Then came a horrific collision and a crushing sensation. Maleek Bak Nur lost consciousness then but it must have been for only a moment because his eyes opened under water and yet again his seemingly never ending quest to make the surface commenced anew. Strangely, it all seemed to mesh together as the speed of the current, the roar of the white water, and the struggle for air became a continuous phenomena. Weirdly, it almost took on an aspect of slow motion...with the only thing the warrior was certain of was that he yet lived...or at least thought he lived. Certainly, he felt pain and panic, and at the same time a bizarre dis-attachment from it all.

Suddenly his head was above water again and he choked and gasped for precious, beautiful air. The river had become less deep for he could sometimes feel his heels bumping against the bottom. He was thankful for that but also to weak to struggle further. The fall and subsequent fight to escape from beneath the falls had sapped him to the core. He could barely twitch his fingers as his body rebounded painfully off large boulders and sharp outcroppings. A heavy, broken tree limb hammered his face. He cursed it at first but then realized it might be his salvation. Despite his trembling and numb hands he managed to grasp a handful of leaves and prevent the limb from escaping. Bak Nur and the limb crashed against a large rock and he cried out as pain shot through his slender body but somehow the impact forced his body atop the thick limb and he managed to cling there as tears welled in his eyes from the effort. Shuddering and half dead the young man fought to hang on for what seemed like an eternity but might have been only a few tortured minutes. He had no way of knowing but fading awareness signaled to his waning consciousness that the roaring was gradually decreasing and the swiftness of the current had slowed somehow.

Unfortunately the mercenary and his limb struck another outcropping of rock, not as hard this time due to the decrease in current but still it was sufficient to render the exhausted man unconscious for a few moments. Or was it longer?

Maleek Bak Nur woke to no longer hear the awful, deafening roaring. He was still in the water but not moving downstream. His body gently bounced up and back, still prostrate on the large limb. How that was so was the will of the gods he supposed. His body was wracked with pain and his breath came in sickening wheezes. He remained in this position for some time as a degree of thought processing returned to his tortured brain.
Then he thought of the ghastly serpents that had attacked him. Although his body should not have been able to move an inch, the chill from the memories of that late horrific experience spurred him to effort he never realized he possessed. With an almost robotic, detached set of movements he got to his feet in the water that was scarcely ankle deep. The limb was lodged against a sizable boulder and he steadied himself by holding on to the mossy surface of the rock for a considerable time as his head fought for control and his lungs returned to their proper function. Finally, he gathered his courage and last vestige of strength and made two staggering steps. It wasn't very much of an accomplishment but it did carry him to a grassy river bank. There he collapsed and blessed darkness enveloped him and the mercy of unconsciousness took him away from his suffering...albeit temporarily.

How long he lay there he could not say. It must have been some time because the position of the sun indicated past noon. He woke because the sun was torturing him. Feeling scarcely better and barely able to move, he raised his head and nausea engulfed him. He hesitated until some of the sickness passed to be replaced by a thirst much worse than he'd experienced at any time whilst lost in the desert with his grim companions. Feebly Bak Nur turned over and found himself directly over an inviting spot where water had pooled between the rock that held the life saving limb and the riverbank. He dipped his hand once, twice, tree times into the cool liquid and drank weakly but eagerly. Slightly revived, he splashed more water over his face and wet his thick black again. The steaming jungle heat had intensified whilst he was sleeping and now he bore the full brunt of that oppressive warmth. He took another sip of water and tried to stand. He could not, his legs trembled uncontrollably and his head swam. Spots appeared before his eyes and he shook his head. Fearing he might black out again, the young man splashed more water over his face and eyes. Then he tried to crawl, not stand. This proved a little more successful and he managed to make it a few feet to the inviting shade of a smallish but leafy tree.

Maleek Bak Nur braced his back up against the trunk of the tree and sat there squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to clear the blurriness from his vision as well as the blurriness in his brain. Everything he had had been swept away save for the tattered clothes he wore. His leather leggings had been secured by leather strands and remained, soggy but there. Thinking again of the serpents, he reached inside his right boot and felt for a hidden scabbard. His hand withdrew and within held a long, razor sharp dagger. He smiled drunkenly, satisfied for the moment that at least he was not unarmed. The comfort this bestowed was significant and he held the blade in his lap. Then, without warning, his eyes closed and again Bak Nur drifted into an exhausted state of dark bliss.

At least three or four hours later the youthful mercenary wakened again felt much stronger, if not better. We was able to gain his feet and walk, albeit unsteadily at first. His clothing had dried, therefore he stripped and returned to the shallow edge of the river. He drank deeply and splashed the refreshing cold water on his face and aching limbs. This served to restore him and take the edge of his anxiety. Bak Nur allowed himself to dry in the sun before redressing. His shirt was less than useless so he used the dagger to cut off a wide strip and fashioned a crude but effective headband. The remainder of the rags he bound about his neck with the bulk of the cloth falling on his shoulders to form a makeshift minute cape. This would perhaps prevent some small portion of the cruel sun rays from singeing his shoulders. Even this small flurry of activity taxed him in his weakened state. Hunger had began to gnaw at his entrails but there was naught he cold do about that at the present. It was best to drink and rest he reckoned. With any luck, if he stayed put, the others might soon find him. There was certainly no guarantee that they had even been searching but he felt there was a good chance that Akkamaten would at least make the attempt. The hulking mercenary captain was a cold blooded killer but still he lived by a code. That, and the fact that Maleek Bak Nur was likely the only man among the band of cutthroats that could be trusted...at least relatively. Thus, he returned to the tree, moved farther back into the shade, and dozed yet more. What else could he do?

The weary mercenary spent the night there. Dawn broke and he roused himself early. Much of the lightness had returned to his limbs and his head was clear. With every movement something ached but he realized only exercise would likely reduced the soreness, and he hoped none of the damage was permanent. His ribs were especially tender but they were cracked at worst, badly bruised at best. He allowed himself the luxury of hoping for the best. The warrior was thankful, if not amazed, that is body as yet remained whole and was not broken to bits and scattered over the length of this unknown river. Hunger was now the overwhelming enemy. The most promising way of appeasing his cravings was there in the water. A number of large lazy fish went about their business as always, torturing Bak Nur with the unspoken promise of their tasty flesh.

At first he tried wading into the shallows and striking down at the fleeting forms of the wily fish. This soon proved unproductive and senselessly tiring. Disgusted, the mercenary soon gave up. "Easier to kill ten fully armored rebels than one of these fiends," he grumbled to himself. Of course, he had to acknowledge that the fish posed somewhat the lesser danger although once he slipped and narrowly missed bashing his brains out on a rock a mossy rock outcropping. And once a large snake slithered by. It gave the starving man a start but thankfully the creature was of the type of serpent that might have been poisonous but at least appeared to be of the common variety.

It was a struggle but the young man managed to break and carve down a stout sapling with his blade. Then he cut off a section of leather strap from his leggings and attached the dagger securely to the slender length of wood. He soaked this binding in water and then allowed it a few hours in the hot sun to dry and tighten. Soon, his light and handy spear was complete. Satisfied with his new weapon, Bak Nur returned to the river's edge and stalked his slippery, scaly brothers. The spear made the match much more even and at last a nice sized fish fell prey to the youth's sharp eye, steely patience, and increasingly accurate thrusts. He licked his lips in anticipation of the primal feast and shook his fist at the jungle. There was no means of making a fire although the young warrior sorely wished there was--and not solely for cooking. Nay, the smoke would lead his companions to his location. Thus, he sat and contemplated his misfortune while making short work of the fish. He ate every tiny snippet of flesh, including the entrails and as much of the bony tail fin as he could chew.

Modest though the meal was, it was filling and gave the lost man a welcome measure of satisfaction and renewed strength. He rose and decided to make a short foray inland, somewhat out of curiosity and boredom, and partly bolstered by the desire to seek out naturally growing berries or even edible fungus. Maleek Bak Nur had been hungry many times before and sated his needs temporarily by such means, humble though they were. He was in no position to be picky and not in the mood to make another attempt at fish spearing in the hot sun.

Maleek Bak Nur was a gifted observer. His eyes missed very little when accompanied by a clear head and good concentration. Thus, he had moved only a few yards into the denseness of the jungle vegetation when he caught a quick flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head ever so slightly and stooping low, the youth squinted into the ocean of green...his curiosity piqued mightily. There it was again!
Not only did he get a second glimpse, he made a starling realization. He was not alone.

The man was moving slowly, quietly, and with natural confidence. At first Bak Nur thought he was alone but surprisingly his keen eyes eventually noted two addition figures. The men all carried long lances held high. Obviously they were stalking something...most likely game of some kind. The young mercenary was reasonably confident that they weren't looking for him. Nonetheless it dawned on his senses that he'd foolishly left his own crude weapon behind. Inwardly he cursed himself as the three near naked hunters moved farther away. Bak Nur waited until he felt reasonably sure that it was safe to move. It was time to retrieve his spear and quickly move to another, and hopefully less populated location. He knew nothing of the people of this land, like as not they were not only hunters but cannibals...as most primitives were he'd been told.

Maleek Bak Nur turned and met face to face with a savage. The man had dusky, sun browned skin, and long black hair partially braided. He wore nothing save a long loincloth and bright feathers attached by unknown means to his ankles. His body was lean and muscular and heavily tattooed. The waistband that held the loincloth in place also held a short knife made of shiny obsidian and a light, but wicked looking stone ax.
Weaponless, the young mercenary froze, trying to think. The strange tattooed warrior held a long tube in his hand. Slowly he put it to his lips. Bak Nur was puzzled, was this some kind of pipe that the man was offering to smoke with the youth...it was altogether mysterious. Suddenly the tattooed hunter's jaws bulged with air and Bak Nur heard a loud poof. Something sharp and stinging struck the mercenary's neck and he yelped at the unexpected pain.

Bak Nur's hand went to his throat and felt something with a fuzzy texture. He pulled on this object and found that it was some kind of small, feathered dart. Then he began to get very dizzy and his knees felt weak. He had been poisoned! The last thing he remembered was turning to run only to fall flat on his face. He lay on the ground stunned, the jungle spinning about him and a strange loud roaring in his ears. He decided it was not unlike the sound made by the white water when he nearly drowned. The youth imagined that perhaps he might not have escaped after all and all this was merely a dream he'd had on his way to the land of the dead. Then all went black.

Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*Y*

Maleek Bak Nur regained consciousness quite suddenly. He felt very light headed and sluggish but his wits were, for the most part, remarkably clear. He looked up to find four nearly naked men staring at him. They all appeared quite serious, with more than a hint of malevolence in their in their dark eyes. The young mercenary's hands were bound by a long length of thin but sturdy rope made from some fibrous material. One of the hunters grunted at him, then they all walked over to a smallish fire and took a seat on the ground. The four commenced talking low amongst themselves and eating the flesh of some game they'd snared. Occasionally they would glance back at their captive with hard stares.

After slightly less than an hour of this activity one of the strange hunters approached Bak Nur. His face was tattooed with all manner of fiendish appearing creatures, including the horrid river serpent that had attacked the horse. He took his fist and struck the young man hard across the face. There was little that the mercenary could do but glare into the man's eyes with all the hate he could muster. "Fuck you, you great smelly piece of human shit!" Bak Nur growled and tried to spit on the man. The savage only smiled slightly and sneered. He turned and growled something at his companions and then walked a short ways off and pissed. This done, he farted loudly and returned to his seat.

The other three savages approached Bak Nur. One snarled and raised his stone ax over the mercenary's head. Bak Nur assumed it was his time to die and thrashed about, a fighter to the end. The blow never came. The remaining savages grasped him with powerful hands and went to work on his bindings. They attached another long strip of rope to the one that held the mercenary's hands fast. Then, an especially burly hunter, hideously tattooed as were they all, yanked Bak Nur to his feet. Apparently they were ready to leave their makeshift camp and the young warrior was going along whether he wished to or not. Thus, they left, pulling their hapless captive behind them and angrily threatening him by brandishing an ax or lance in his face should he stumble or bump into one of the myriad of obstacles in the narrow trail they choose. They did not run but walked at a very fast pace. Thanks in no small part to his recent ordeal in the river, the mercenary found himself very hard put to keep up. Still, he fought on, realizing that should he give up and fall, in all likelihood his skull would be immediately crushed by an ax. It was a desperate situation the young man found himself in yet again. His chances in the river had likely been much greater than what there were at the present. Probably they were only keeping him alive until they reached their village. There he would certainly be tortured to death...then eaten. Of course they might eat him alive like the tales he'd heard. Joint by joint, limb by limb. And of course he'd surely be flayed. Those were not encouraging thoughts and he forced them out of his mind and instead concentrated on staying on his feet, unsteady though they surely were.

This ordeal lasted the better part of three hours. It was very hot and humid, Bak Nur staggered on near the limit of his endurance. Abruptly the four savages stopped, all four fell into a crouch and remained there perfectly still. They seemed to forget about Bak Nur and he slumped to the ground exhausted. He watched puzzled as they sniffed the air and peered into the vastness of the jungle. Bak Nur was thankful for the rest but could only guess at the sudden strange behavior of his brutal hosts. As with all else he'd encountered during his trek into this hell...nothing made sense.

The mercenary quietly made note that they'd released his leash. Perhaps it might be a good time to simply make a run for it. They would catch him in no time certainly, but there was the tiny chance he might find a bluff where he could hurl himself off headfirst, thereby smashing out his brains and preventing the long slow death that surely awaited a bit later.

Just as he tensed his muscles to leap to this feet and run, there came a distant but very distinct sound. It was utterly different from anything that Bak Nur was familiar with. It reminded him a little of a wolf's howl and yet not. It almost had a moaning quality to it, and would have been quite unsettling had the mercenary not been past the point of feeling much of anything. The four savages glanced at each other with anxiety clearly etched upon their coarse features. Even the eyes of the one with the heavily tattooed face flashed with uncertainty and nervousness. Suddenly the four turned and raced off at full gallop in the opposite direction form whence the strange howling and commenced.

Bak Nur reasoned logically that whatever scared the hell out of the primitive brutes was probably not something he'd want to make the acquaintance of either. He struggled to his feet, and not wanting to follow deeper into the territory of his former captors, chose to flee back in direction of the river. Besides, there was the recently traveled trail which would make his flight vastly easier. He gathered the end of his leash and placed it within his teeth on stumbled away, feeling weaker than ever and perhaps even a bit feverish. No matter, he would not lie down and wait for the hunters to return, nor was he fain to meet whatever ghastly creature it had been that had so frightened four grown and heavily armed men.

The trail back to the point where he'd been captured was fairly well worn and easy to travel but the young man was past the point of caring. He struggled on for more than an hour but it was becoming increasingly difficult. At last he trudged forward with legs beyond heavy and barely moving and eyes nearly shut, heatstroke was settling on him quickly and there was simply nothing to be done. All he could do was keep going until he reached water and his weapon. This provided scant hope but it was all he had. Then, he misstepped and crashed full on against a massive tree. There he lay knocked unconscious, his body gasping automatically for air. As he fell the howl of the mysterious creature erupted again and reverberated through the dark leagues of pure jungle. Had Bak Nur been able to hear it, he would have noted how much closer it now sounded.