Awful. Absolutely fucking awful.
And my cue to get the fuck out of here.
Hoping like hell whatever just happened didn’t affect the vial, I give it the hardest throw I can manage.
The world goes up in flames.
Goddess, Marianne did me good with that one.
The line of fire creates a living barrier between me and the archer, and a sharp cry from somewhere far off to my right seems to suggest his buddy got caught in the inferno.
“Fuck off!” I yell, taking backward steps faster now, watching the fire clear my path for escape.
With a frustrated hiss, the lizard reaches back into his quiver and grabs another arrow.
One left.
The bastard’s only got one left.
Apparently he’s also as short on patience as he is on arrows, because just as I glance back, I see him nock it in his bow. His lips curl into a snarl as he draws it back and fires.
The arrow embeds itself in the tree trunk beside me with a hard thwack.
“Ha!” I shout, triumphant. “You missed!”
The lizard glares at me, but my gloating only lasts a few seconds before a wave of putrid air hits me. I gag and slap a hand over my nose and mouth, whipping around to see what the fuck it is and where it’s coming from.
The arrow didn’t only hit the tree.
It pierced straight through the center of one of those huge black mushrooms, releasing plumes of sickly green spores into the air.
They’re all over me.
Inside me.
The hand I have over my face does nothing. Spores sear my nostrils, my throat, my lungs on my next inhale.
I scramble backwards, but my muscles immediately protest the lack of oxygen. I’m clumsy, slow, and this fire isn’t going to hold out forever.
Another stumbling step, and my mind reels.
My vision goes black at the edges, comes back, goes black again.
Somewhere on the other side of the flame, the lizard hisses out a terrible scream.
Only, when my vision clears enough for me to get a good look at him, his eyes are fixed on the opposite side of the clearing.
A figure in a dark cloak emerges from the forest.
My vision dims, blacks out again.
There are shouts, cries of anger, and then of pain. The faint sound of bone against bone, fists into faces, more cries, more shouts, and then it’s quiet again.
I force my eyes open, and I’m on the ground.
When did I fall?
The sky above is still that strange, burnt orange. The scent of burning forest and putrid mushrooms fills my protesting lungs.
