I wake up to shattering booms that echo up the valley, rolling like war drums. Thunderlike cracks rattle the cave walls. A force that commands attention and makes the stalactites vibrate in resonance. Is the storm back?

  I crawl outside. A cyan-blue sky welcomes me. I blink, disoriented. There aren’t any clouds wherever you look at. But lightning bolts cross the forest from left to right, under the trees. Are those men tossing them around? Yes, they are, and flames, and dust, and whatnot. The thunder cracks again, splitting the sky apart, a jagged tear of sound that shakes my bones. Dogs bark somewhere in frenzied yammers. The forest is a firework, a frenzied party of flickering lights, trees aflame, and screeching birds.

  Did they go completely crazy? The situation between all those groups must have been way tenser than I realized. My nightly antics were the straw that broke the camel’s back. This may be the best opportunity I will get. I can slip through without worrying about those annoying dogs sniffing me out. But which direction should I go? There are fights everywhere. Should I still follow the compass?

  You know what? Forget about the compass. Following the direction it points at has not been working. I’ll go downriver. Sooner or later, there must be a settlement somewhere. And maybe there I can hitch a ride in a caravan or something to Minas Kalin, that place those hunters spoke about. Whatever it is, town or city, merchants travel everywhere.

  I climb down and start running, clad in invisibility. I jump and run. I wade and swim, following the curse of the water. There are groups of men everywhere, swords clashing. Metal clangs against metal, against stones and bones, searching the melody of chaos. Flames crackle behind my back and to the sides, out of control, igniting more and more trees. Arrows swirl everywhere through the bushes. Some mages deflect them with crackling translucent shields. Others aren’t that lucky. They fill me with envy. I should have tried to design a kinetic shield. Focus! Right now is not the time.

  Men cry in agony. Two knights are fighting each other at magic-enhanced speeds. One carries a spear, the other sword and shield. They move so fast that my eyes can barely follow them. They are just blurs that crash through branches and bushes, leaving only destruction behind. A high-grade mage is conjuring sand whirlwinds and hurling them at other people.

  The flames crackle hungry and relentlessly devouring trees in a roaring inferno. The heat makes the air shimmer. Trees and branches fall, claimed by the fire, igniting even more trees. The acrid scent of smoke is burning my throat. I run faster, not caring about noise, footprints, or possible traces I may leave. Nothing will be left when I’m gone if they continue like that.

  Charred and blood-covered bodies float down the river, forgotten by their companions and enemies. Nobody has time to care about them until the fight calms down. That won’t be soon. Some people try to flee. Others are just arriving, swarming in, weapons ready, attracted by the noise and lights like moths. When they encounter each other, new skirmishes erupt in the confusion.

  Horses stampede by my side, eyes wide open, pupils dilated. Embers rain down on us like fireflies, whipping them into a frenzy, into terrified whines. When they fall on me, they catch in my flowing hair or scorch my invisible skin, stinging like angry hornets. I pull my cloak over my head and continue running.

  The heat presses against my back, pushing me forward. I can feel my heartbeat drumming against my ribs. The river is a tunnel now, between roaring walls of flame. A branch falls and snags my ankle, sending me sprawling into the water. Embers fade to black with sharp hisses as soon as they touch the water. The current is a bit calmer here. The river widens. I let it carry me out of the valley. I drift, trying to catch my breath.

  The river is catching speed again. I hear an earsplitting roar up ahead. Cold water surges around me, dragging me closer to an abyss. The river and forest ahead disappear into the empty sky. I try to hold on to something, anything, but the force sends me tumbling. The waterfall grows deafening, a thunderous drumbeat of doom, yanking me closer. Ashes fall around me like drifting snow. Water washes over my head. I dive deep down, trying to reach the bottom, where the current isn’t so intense. I start stroking harder with my arms, trying to get closer to the riverbank. Finding your way is hard down in the darkness, under the murky waters. Lonely rays of light rip through the blanket of ashes. I found something. My fingers grasp desperately at a slick rock. I slip and slide through ashes, algae, and roots until my robe gets caught up on something. It stops me in place. My body jerks violently as the current tries to rip me away. I roll over, ignoring my burning muscles, trying to get a better hold.

  I gasp, choking on a mouthful of icy water. My hands find a jagged root, a handhold if I can unknot my hooked robe. I pull myself out of the river onto a ledge between flames and water. I crawl under the soaked, steaming branches of a willow, my pulse still hammering into my ears. Finally, I collapse onto a small sand beach, just a few paces before the edge, a pond of calmness between the roaring waters and the fiery storm. Ash falls around me. I lie on my back and ignore it.

  I wander along the riverbank towards the edge and look down. The water flows over boulders and stony ledges until falling straight into a circular lagoon half-hidden under the mist. Maybe 30 meters down. The crowns of the trees down there barely loom over the edge. The fire hasn’t reached them yet, and it probably won’t. The wind is blowing in the opposite direction. That means it squeezes and streams into the trees up here like escaping out of bellows. It feeds the fire, igniting every spark.

  Can I jump down there? Maybe yes. I could run up to the edge to jump far enough over it. My shock absorber runes could let me survive the fall. Do I want to try it? Not really. Everything is slippery close to the edge. I risk losing my balance and tumbling over the boulders without control over how I fall. It is better to wait for the trees to finish burning down and wander around.

  Something growls behind me. I whirl around. One of those stupid mutts has washed onto my beach. Another one drifts by, unable to fight the raging waters that yank him over the edge. We both watch him stumble and crash between the boulders until he disappears. Another dog washes onto the sand, and another, and another one. They lie there panting for a while. I watch them warily. Why did I have to encounter them? Has my luck finally run out? Maybe not. At least their handlers aren’t here.

  They sniff in my direction. Another one starts growling. They do recognize me. The biggest one looks at me with bloodshot eyes and singed fur, showing me sharp canines. It feels like he is accusing me of all their troubles. They stand up and start to step closer. I step back. I look towards the waterfall, then to the other side, into the roaring flames. They start barking at me. They bark and growl, flanking me to bar my way out. A shiver travels down my spine. I step back again. The desperation gives me an idea. I activate my seal-heat rune, take a deep breath, and jump into the fire.

  From the corner of my eyes, I can see incredulous faces looking at me. Flames engulf me, but I don’t feel them. They are just a spectacle of light, parting in my way. I start running. Embers crack between my steps or get smothered into black coals in my wake. How far can it be until I am through? I can feel the yank in my core. The rune swallows up mana greedily. Will it last long enough to make it through to the other side? Tears fall down my cheeks, my eyes trying to wash out the stinging smoke. I start running. I stumble over stones and baked earth. I jump over a burned-down stump and continue running through a yellow and red world. One step, another, another, I lose count. At this rate, my breath will run out before my mana.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The red clouds spit me out into a sea of ashes, hiding still smoldering embers beneath them. I continue running towards the edge, where there are only stones and no burnt vegetation, where the air that rushes up feels safe to breathe, where I can climb down, out of this hell.

  Water laps over my ankles as I step forward. Hidden potholes swallow my feet when my strides are not careful enough. Soft mud paints my legs up to my knees. I wade through soaked meadows and swampy marshlands, feeling relieved. There is no smoke down here. Tall reeds whisper against my arms, caressing me with feathery tops that sway in the thick, humid air. Some forearm-sized frogs are sunning themselves, sitting languidly on boat-sized lily pads that float where the water is deep. Their croaks echo through the stillness until I am too close for their comfort, and they jump into the waters, leaving only slowly dispersing ripples behind. It smells of crabs and rain.

  Mangled corpses have gotten entangled between the waxy leaves of drifting water hyacinths that clump together in the center of the stream. I can see their roots and tendrils growing at breakneck speed, floating in the slow-flowing water. They reach for the battered flesh with eagerness, ripping clothes into slowly dissolving strands of fibers, boring into open wounds, and sucking the corpses dry. Empty husks give way to clusters of blooming violet flowers, their petals painted with yellow and lavender strokes that slowly turn red. Some caimans snack on the few corpses still floating free.

  I flinch and try to get more distance between me and the river. I tramp over narrow paths, between lily-filled ponds, toward the distant high ground, toward another forest.

  “Hi! Who are you? You’re gonna trample the rice!”

  I whirl around and come face to face with a young girl. A child with scrawny arms, unruly hair, a snot-covered nose, and big, olive-green eyes. Where did she come from? What is she doing here alone? What rice? I look around over orderly rows of green. “Sorry, I didn’t know that was your rice.”

  She waves with her hand, “I don’t care. But Lamlam is gonna be all grumpy again.”

  “Who is Lamlam?”

  “My big brother.” She looks at me like she is expecting me to know that already.

  I step out of the water onto the dry ground next to the girl, a path encased in bricks and bamboo. “What are you doing alone here? Isn’t it dangerous? Where are your parents?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t remember. They went to p’sent levy or something. Lamlam says they will come back when the war is over. Ahh, and if I’m a good girl.”

  She looks at me conspiratorially, leans a bit closer, and whispers. “But I think it doesn’t matter if I’m a good girl.”

  I smile. “Why didn’t this Lamlam or your grandparents come with you? I saw a few caimans down there by the river. If they come here, it could get dangerous.”

  “Granny died last summer.” She looks at me with forlorn eyes. “It’s only me and Lamlam now. And Bunnybean.” She shudders, then looks back at me. “The caimans never come here because of Bunnybean!”

  “Who is Bunnybean?”

  “Our doggy.”

  “Okay.” If they think it is safe, who am I to tell them that it is not?

  “And I come here because, back by the house, it is boring.” She looks at me, eyes sparkling. “You should come back with me and dry yourself, or you gonna get cold. It is gonna get dark soon.”

  She wants me to go with her? Is this another trap? No, it can’t be. The inertia of these past days makes me want to bolt, to not trust anyone. But I am graving human company, a kind face. “Okay. Why not?”

  She takes me by the hand and guides me through a maze of twisting paths. Rice fields give way to mulberry groves, pear, and peach trees. They are all a bit overgrown as if someone forgot to prune them. But if half of the farmers are missing, that shouldn’t surprise me.

  A deep bark thunders through the air. Heavy steps stomp closer from somewhere. Shit! Are the dogs back? How did they manage to climb down? I freeze in place. Memories of the beach assault me. A horse-sized beast burst out between flowering bushes. A force of nature that darts closer, like a brakeless carriage about to crash into me and sweep me off my feet.

  “Bunnybean! Be nice!” The gigantic dog stumbles, incapable of bleeding his momentum. He slides over the grass and comes to a stop at our feet. He tilts his head to look at me. Then he looks at the girl holding my hand and slobbers the dirt out of her face with a pink, plate-sized tongue. “Argh! Stop!” she giggles.

  Air rushes into my starving lungs. I relax my clenched fists. Who names a three or four-hundred-kilogram heavy beast Bunnybean? I watch the dog, still a bit wary, but he seems to have accepted me now and starts guiding us toward a reed-covered house built on waist-thick bamboo stilts. What am I now, a stray member of his pack?

  “Lamlam, we have guests!”

  A hand pushes the flap that covers the doorway aside. A tall, lean teenage boy pokes his curl-covered head out. His eyes dart over us, over the road, warily. His fibered arm tenses. His fingers cramp around the handle of a dirt-covered machete. His green eyes fall onto the three of us again. He lets his arm fall back down. “Emm. Hi?”

  “He is a bit shy,” confesses the girl.

  “What? No, I’m not!” denies the boy, his cheeks turning red. “Minae! Don’t lie!”

  She looks at me and giggles in mischief. “I invited her for a sleepover. It is okay, is it not?”

  She did what? The boy looks at me. I must look like a beggar with my singed and tattered robe and muddy trousers. “Hmm. You came from that fire upriver or something?”

  “Yeah.” What to say? Who should I pretend to be? They can’t have heard about those guys searching for me, can they? “I got separated from my hunting party in the chaos.” I sniff and rub my eyes until they are red and irritated. “I don’t know what happened to them.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Do you need help searching for them?”

  “What? No.” I smile at the boy. “Thank you for offering, though.” I wave a strand of hair out of my face. “We are supposed to head back to Deepwater if something happens.” I smile again. “If you could show me the way, that would be great.”

  The boy whistles. “That is far.” He rubs his forehead, looks downriver into the setting sun, and mutters something to himself before looking back at me. “There is a trading port a few miles down the road. Where the Limanae River flows into the Umanoka. You could get a ship there.”

  “But you will stay with us tonight, won’t you?” the girl, Minae, takes my hand and pouts at me.”

  “If it is not a bother. I don’t want to impose.” I feel a bit out of place. I am intruding. But who knows what the rules of hospitality are around this place, in this kingdom, in this empire? Maybe solitary farmers always invite strangers when they cross their lands.

  “What are you talking about? Lamlam, are you gonna let us in or not? It is getting dark.”

  “Yeah, sure. Come in.”

  The fire crackles over a big soot-covered stone slab, casting flickering shadows across the interwoven bamboo beams of the walls and the ceiling. The scent of burning wood mingles with the aroma of a hearty stew that slowly simmers in a big cast iron pot.

  Minae is lying on the couch, loudly snoring, with a smile on her face. Bunnybean has abandoned her and sits beside me, his snout in my lap, his big eyes begging. I have become his new best friend since I started feeding him pieces of jerky behind my back.

  “Tea?” Lamlam, or Lamac, his real name, offers me a steaming clay mug smelling of honey and spices.

  “Sure,“ I accept. Our fingers touch for an instant. The snores have gone silent. I look over Lamac’s shoulder. The not-sleeping Minae closes her eyes in a flash and starts snoring again. I giggle. Is she trying to set me up with her brother or something?

  Lamac looks at me, raising his eyebrows, unaware of the interaction. He serves himself another mug of tea and sits down on the opposite side of the table. He cast a furtive look outside, to the sky fading to ink-black, like looking for something. But there is nothing out there, only the omnipresent croaks of the frogs and the near-silent flaps of bats hunting mosquitoes. He wraps his weathered hands around the mug and leans closer to me. “Are you with them?” he asks in a whisper.

  “?With who?” I ask back, bewildered.

  “Sorry, nobody important, forget about it.” He answers, sounding disappointed. He drops his shoulders and leans back in his chair. He stares into the darkness for a while, eyes forlorn, blowing into his cup to cool his tea down. Then he shudders and stands up. “I think the stew is ready.”