This early in the morning, Braiden was used to seeing dew clinging to the leaves. For some reason, the dew down here was a bright ruby red. He lowered his head to avoid a low hanging palm tree with leaves as sharp as daggers, narrowly missing a bead of red wetness it dripped onto the ground.
“Well,” Braiden breathed, trying to keep cheerful. “This is very — different.”
Valefour slashed at the undergrowth with his midnight sword, clearing the way as if hacking through a jungle with a machete. Ophidia was his mirror, wielding a black scimitar instead.
A few of the other demons did the same, chopping away the more sinister-looking branches and brambles. The chatterboxes spread out throughout the jungle, unfortunately not much use for clearing away jungle foliage unless they meant to burn the whole thing to the ground.
“Best stay on your guard,” Valefour said. “The path down to the portal can be treacherous, and we haven’t gone this way in a while. The land may have, ah, evolved in the meanwhile.”
“Astonishing,” Augustin said. “Is this the portal’s influence?”
“Yes,” Ophidia replied simply.
Warren nodded. “I’m very interested to see more of the life that flourishes down here. Out of curiosity, would you say that we would need to be more cautious of the local flora or fauna?”
Ophidia swiped away the sweat from her forehead and again answered, “Yes.”
Elyssandra frowned at the back of Ophidia’s head. “But what does that mean?”
Newt flicked an errant branch out of the way. The swishing sound it made reminded Braiden of a knife slicing through the air.
“It means,” Newt said, “that we get a little bit of column A, a bit of column B. The land has been transformed, and often the flora itselfisfauna, and the other way around.”
Braiden stared at their surroundings with freshly frightened eyes. “Great. So we’re talking about fully autonomous plant monsters?”
“Many of them carnivorous, too,” Ophidia helpfully offered with annoying nonchalance. “And since there isn’t a lot of meat in the area, I’d imagine they’re particularly hungry.”
Bones gulped. Braiden frowned. What did Bones have to worry about? He was the only member of their caravan that wasn’t carrying any meat.
Valefour stuck his sword in the ground, taking a break and resting his hands on its pommel. “Even with the portal shut, traces of chaos and corruption from the several hells still leaks through. It twists what you consider normal into something more familiar to the infernal dimension.”
Ophidia held her hand up, freezing in place. The party stopped as well, bodies still, only heads turning to search for whatever the demon had discovered.
The chatterboxes came whizzing back between the trees, repeating a drone of “Danger, danger,” loud enough for all to hear.
“Prepare to defend yourselves,” Ophidia shouted.
A rustle of leaves rushed from deep within the jungle, as if heralding the arrival of something long and deadly. Braiden watched in horror as the foliage rippled like disturbed waves, the way the surface wavers as a predator rockets through the water.
It was making a line directly for the back of the party: straight for Elder Bahul. Whatever this thing was had picked out the slowest member of their party as a target. Easy pickings, it probably thought.
Braiden shouted out in warning, but the elder only trundled on. But before the threat had even arrived, it occurred to Braiden just who it was attacking. A council member of the Lighthouse, an Elder of Weathervale, arguably the most poisonous creature for miles around.
Even as his party shouted in warning and sprinted to the elder’s defense, Braiden suddenly found himself relaxing. Thechatterboxes sped forward, then stopped abruptly, as if in understanding.
Something darted out of the undergrowth, like a vine as thick as a tree trunk, its tip tapered and heart shaped. It was a great serpent with leaves instead of scales, glowing lumps of amber for eyes, and razor-sharp thorns for teeth.
It parted its jaws, ready to take a bite out of the elder. The demons screamed.
Elder Bahul twisted to his side as casually as someone on a sightseeing tour of the jungle, catching the serpent’s fangs on the treasure chest strapped to his back. Its teeth splintered on impact.
Before it could make another move, Elder Bahul slipped the chest’s straps from his shoulders, then slammed it onto the ground, crushing the great serpent’s head into the jungle floor. The creature went limp.
“Now where did I put that thing?” the elder muttered to himself, rummaging through his treasure chest as if nothing had happened.
“Valefour’s wisdom is best heeded,” a shaken Warren said. “I’ve never seen anything like this in the dungeon.”
“And we’ve never seen anything like your elder here, either,” Valefour said with obvious awe. “Several hells, but that was something to behold.”
