Perhaps they had never seen steel or perhaps they were just hungry, but despite the danger, two of the water monsters leapt out of the water, allowing Freyia to dispose of them. Blood plumed in the water as their bodies fell.
The last, however, disappeared beneath the water.
I chanced a glance overboard. Found nothing. Looking up, I caught Astril’s eye. She shook her head, but the way she held herself told me she was still waiting.
The creature leapt out of the water, mouth opened wider than before to reveal multiple rows of small sharp teeth. It landed on top of Inga.
“Away with you!” I batted the creature with my oar again and again. It reared at me, body coiled to launch, but Freyia’s dagger lodged itself in the creature’s heart.
I exhaled. “Are there more?”
“None that I can hear or smell,” Astril replied as she shoved the thing in the water. “But that’s not saying much. I can’t sense below the water.”
“What are they?” Yrsa asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Freyia said. “I wonder if they were merpeople once.”
I shuddered. The similarities were there, but I did not like to think about how merpeople could becomethat. Or why they’d be down here and not in the sea where they belonged.
“Keep an eye out for more of them,” Geiravor broke the horrified silence that had befallen us. “Or worse.”
The vampires simply turned and stared into the darkness. Watching. Waiting.
I pulled a faelight from my pocket, ignited it, and let the ball free. It hovered above my boat, floating along with us.
The channel grew wider. Every four strokes, we gained at least half a body length at the edges. Not only that, but rowing became easier, as if we were going downhill. Faster. The strange sensation was explained when the channel opened into a cavern. Though the faelight did not illuminate the entire area, it did enough to reveal a faint, red glimmering above.
“Are the rocks shimmering? Reflecting the water?” The same luminescence as before filled the pool, but how did the light get so high?
“Where’s the exit?” Thyra asked.
“No, wait. Isolde has a point. What are those?” Yrsa craned her neck, studied above. Thanks to the extra space, the other boat had moved to float right beside ours. “Row faster.”
“You can row,” Geiravor grumbled. “I’d be happy to give up my spot.”
“Those are the bats,” Yrsa hissed, spiking my heart rate.
Carnivorous bats were native to the Autumn Court but had adapted to live in many parts of Isila. Specifically in areas of natural heat, like hot spring water. They would attack, even unprovoked. That not a single one had flown down yet meant they were sleeping.
My oar slipped in and out of the water at a faster rate, matching Geiravor’s pace as we skirted the outside of the cavern, looking for an exit.
“There!” Astril whispered. “I found the exit. Keep going straight, and we’ll come right across it.”
I spotted it too and pushed harder. We were only a few paddles away when Queen Inga let out a loud moan.
The sound echoed in the cavern. Wings rustled.
“Go, go, go!” Thyra pleaded, and by the stars, I did.
“Geiravor!” Yrsa said. “Move over. I’ll row, you ward!”
Her sister hopped up and began working her magic, just as a waterfall of bats detached from the ceiling and dove. Fangs bared, they closed in. One came from behind and latched onto Yrsa’s shoulder. She screamed, and ripped it off her, breaking its neck, but the damage was done. More bats awoke. More rustling wings and strange pitchy chirps sent skitters down my spine.
A hundred more made it down by the time Geiravor cast a full ward above us, but not before dozens swooped inside. One took a chunk out of my arm, and before I could stop them, a shadow released, wrapped around the bat, and squeezed.
The creature fell into the water, and though effective, I opted to use winter magic to do away with the rest. My power blasted upward and into the air, freezing the flying bats. They fell into the water, no longer a threat.
“Can you make it a shield over the exit when we pass through?” I continued to row. “And how long will it last?”
