Chapter 60. If it isn’t one thing, it’s always another.

  Calm down. Relax. Sid didn’t drown. No, his eye didn’t go glossy black with that vile yellow ember either—good memory who ever said that. Just sit down. He’ll be alright. The old man has some special gear he really should be more considerate of. Now listen up and pay attention because things are about to start getting really good from here.

  In that depressing moment Sid thought was his last, something miraculous happened. Two very thin tentacles wormed into his mouth. Each squirming down his throat. Snaking their way into his lungs. Suction cups started blooming. Pumping fresh air for the man—he wasn’t going to even try and understand what was happening—he was only becoming more and more upset with himself. Scarlett’s threads have been saving him all day.

  “GAAAAHHHHHHH!” It was a muffled scream of challenge. That mean eye and ugly stone glared up at the beaver still holding him.

  Sid flexed his stomach. Curling up for a real up and close look with that nasty face. Grabbing those black eyes. Instantly, there was a release in pressure from his leg.

  Not just a release from his leg, but a series of voices came rushing through his thoughts. Statements and demands. Such odd layered voices. Whispering so faint. It was almost hard to hear.

  “You see them—they're right there—so soft—delicate—pop able—grab the eyes—do it—pop that fucking eyeball—both of them—grab those fucking eyes—do it now—make it bleed—let it suffer—show your wrath—now—now—now Sidney make it hurt.”

  He did. Sid ripped at the two bottom eyes. Tearing handful after handful of who knows what free from the sockets. Pushing from the rocks. He jumped onto the face of the beast and climbed up over its back. Grabbing one of the threatening barbed spines. Snapping it free. The bar above the massive beaver flashed just barely. It flashed some more when Sid drove the point behind the neck of the great aqua rodent.

  The thing released a mouthful of bubbles. Slapping a grand tail. The two rushed to the surface. Sid could barely hang on to that greasy fur while the river king swam with haste.

  “GAAAAHHHHHHHHHH—OOOMMPH!” Sid came roaring from the water. Arms waving dramatically trying to catch anything at all. Looking like a first-time flyer pushed from the nest. Only this big baby couldn’t fly. And he crashed hard. Rolling through the soft white sands. He held his shoulder. Then yanked the tentacles from his throat, slinging mucus with the pull out. Coughing and hacking for a breath of normal air—the damnation of it all. Those fuzzy bastards are still trying.

  The wraps around his wrists flared. He punched the beavers while he tried to get to his feet. Even kicking some back into the river. Only slowing when the Beaver-King stepped from the water’s edge—Sid has the upper hand now—the set of eyes he ripped out, were only by stupid chance the prime eyes for out of water vision. The beast could still see with the top sets of eyes, its just extremely blurred. The blurred vision is caused by multiple this layers of translucent flesh. Like a clear eyelid. That clear eyelid provides a clear and magnified view from under the dark river.

  The huge beaver was also very slow on land. It had small legs and had to drag such a mass when it walked.

  Sid limped. There was still a nice gash along his thigh. Sure his trousers stitched up just like Scarlett said they would. But his leg was bleeding. It was still open. And it had a warm flow. That gash was something else. That beaver got him good. If he could just sit and relax that wound would set and seal quicker—not running around stretching it.

  Mumbling to himself—something about the gods, how he wouldn’t be playing—he approached that huffing king of river rodents. The thing was loud and intimidating. Each bleating breath vibrated his organs—oddly it never unnerved him. He continued forth. Sid was pissed. Screaming back at the thing. Nothing sensible. Nothing intelligent. Just primal, guttural screams with each breath. Staring deep into those black eyes.

  He mustered all his strength into a solid fist. That thick balled up left one. Shouldering a heavy left hook. A juicy-pop-was released while he plowed his balled hand into one of the eyes. A thick creamy orange goop slapped against Sid’s chest and face.

  “Uggh!” Talk about a splash-zone. That poor mustache was soaked. The lip underneath curled with disgust. He dragged a hand over his face, while tentacles slithered only behind. Suction cups could be heard slurping the mess from his face—listen you hear it, kind of sounds like mice sipping milk huh—anyways that gross distraction allowed the Beaver-King a moment to howl with a cry of pain.

  That huge rodent latched its chompers into Sid’s foot. Pulling the big guy to the ground. Yanking and tugging. Dragging him to the currents once again. The heavy huffing monster ignored the free leg repeatedly kicking that black nose. A nose practically the same size of the boots.

  Damn it no—he would not be going back into that horrid water. The water was so dense and heavy. Even if one was a mighty swimmer, they couldn’t keep it up for long. The wet soaks you with exhaustion. Washes you with fear. Even logs sink like the stones in time.

  He sat up swinging with everything he had. It wasn’t a lot, but he tried. He was tired though. He was depressed. Hasn’t had a good night sleep in three days either. Same a good meal. The last three days were powered by grieving memory and three soft boiled eggs. He didn’t have the strength. He was physically and mentally depleted.

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  He laid down. Accepting his fate. Relaxing into the tugging. Allowing the drag ‘this is it’ he thought ‘I die by a beaver, not exactly the beaver I wanted to surrender to, but life is funny like that.’ He thought with a chuckle.

  Sid wanted to give up. He just wanted it all to end. However, the primitive rage erupting from his core said otherwise. He sat up and let out a primordial roar. A feral grizzly kind of growl rippled across the sand. Over the water. Scarring the smaller beavers away. He kicked the nose so hard that the great beaver had no other choice but to let go. Sid didn’t stop with the kick either. Angry hands reached out gripping that ugly black nose. He stretched and pulled. Until the skin tear.

  Like ripping the shirt from one’s chest. A faint tear split in the skin. Like the fabrics conceding to force before shredding in half. Sid did the same to that leathery rodent nose. He ripped a nasty flap. Ripping until he couldn’t reach any further.

  Scurrying backwards on his palms. He kicked the massive beaver a few more times.

  “Redemption!” Sid yelled with a hand in the air—nothing—he must have dropped the blade in the river.

  He scrambled to his feet kicking the little one’s brave enough to return from the waters. Sid started away with a limp. A slow hobble that was easy to pace with. The beavers all gave chase—not on the sandy beach though. Those little brown furballs ran for the river all dipping below. Same did their King. Sid was slow, he had a busted-up leg still trying to mend over. Small punctures. Toxins and poison. Easy no problem. Massive holes in the back from an axe. Big ass beavers using him like a chewing stick. He needed to wait. He needed to rest. He wanted to go home—oh how a drink would please him right now.

  Sid watched while the spines of the river king swim by. Hearing the breaking of water he turned around only to see the little fuzzy menaces crawling ashore. Looking back forward again he watched the king make its way in front of him, trying to block his path. Why doesn’t he just run into the forest you might be wondering. Well, on this side of the river the edging embankment was rather steep, practically a four-foot drop—I know that doesn’t seem like much, but for Sid that’s a hard climb with no supporting to grab onto, specially when he has a horse sized beaver and tens of his relentless minions biting for his legs and feet.

  Sid took a heavy breath, must he really destroy this creature. He would rather not, he didn’t like taking from the forest if he didn’t have to. grotesque vampires sure, they had it coming. Widowmakers, of course he hated them things, he’ll smash the normal ones too they’re disgusting. The snake. Well the Venocoil was probably hunting, and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but would of rather not had the encounter if he could play it over again.

  Sid armed himself with two nice sized rocks, before kicking furball after furball back into the river. He clutched at the rock in his left hand repeatedly, adjusting his fingers again and again, trying for that perfect grip. Kicking another beaver, he took a short step readying himself watching, as the river monster wormed its way over. Only paces from the beast twelve legs if Sid had to guess. He could sense it though. The king was about to lunge—Sid must be in reach.

  Sid took a step of false Indications. The river beast fell for the taunt and leaped at him. Sid took a quick couple steps back. A wave of sand was shoveled up against that torn nose. Plowing only a reaching arm before him, the river king missed. Taking this moment, he hammered at the monster. He slammed the rocks against the thing. Five. Six. Seven times per hand at least. The thin green bar hovering above flashed and flickered—all but barely depleting. He beat down until one of the rocks crumbled in his hand. The beaver half concussed slowly come to a stand.

  Looking at the sloppy, matted denting with amazement, Sid was surprised at how strong and determined this beast was. He watched with a heaving chest. It pushed to its feet. Grabbing a fistfuls of greasy fur, Sid quickly crawled atop. Reaching for sharp barb prickling from the spines. Snapping it free with ease.

  The beaver jerked. Tossing the man from his back.

  Sid landed with a crunch—he didn’t know if that was his vertebrae or the scales of his coat—it knocked the air from him though. He turned and crawled for the barb. Slamming against the embankment. He was ready. He was going to stab that beaver over and over. Instead. He watched while the King and its minions took for the river. Scurrying with panic.

  The edging above his head started to crumble. Covering his head while something slide off the edging. He held his breath at such a sight—honestly, now what the hell could this thing be—gods Abram was full of shit. Everything in this forest was dangerous. Man-eaters be extinct his fat hairy ass they were—gods if it wasn’t one thing it will always, always with out a doubt be a-fucking-nother. He was so sick of the forest.

  Talking himself up. Building that wall of self-courage. Sid was about to take stand. The carriage sized monster flexed its quills. It had great beautiful quills like that to the peacock. All standing erect, beautiful with color. Several green and blue eyes make up those lovely quills. Body like a crab—or spider I suppose it’s where you’re looking at it from. The down like feathers of its body became ridged, like an angry sea urchin. It turned with horrid leg movement.

  A shiny red beak was pointing at him. Sid only watched. He was so curious about what this spider-porcupine-crab-bird miscreation was. That red beak clacked a few times. Before it shrieked open. Splitting five different ways. It looked like a star from purgatory. Each pointed flap riddled with mini teeth.

  Sid cocked back. Ready to attack. He didn’t see any eyes but he was going to drive this barb as deep as he could straight down that throat. He pushed from the embankment. Lunging out for that monster. Never finding his target, instead he drove that barb into the scaly side of another Venocoil.

  The mighty snake never noticed the barb. Or Sid. It only dislocated its jaw and strike for that—whatever the hell that thing was. He was barely able to let go of the barb too. That massive snake nearly dragged him into the river too. All while it scooped up the monster and swam across the river and into the timbers on the other side.

  Laying still until he could no longer see movement. That was a different Venocoil, that one was massive. So big it didn’t even look at Sid. That fat man would not have been enough—honestly that creature it took probably wouldn’t be enough. He pushed to a more comfortable sitting position, and looked at the river. The blade of Redemption was laying in there somewhere.

  His thoughts and moment of rest had been disrupted, as two fiery blue, silver creatures walked around him, one sat with the man as the other circled. The creatures he seen playing with Fenrir—these were the same ones he just knew they were. “What are you?” He asked. Carefully reaching to pet the new creature. His hand brushed past the soft blue flame. Bright milky orange eyes gleamed with approval as he pet the strange canine.

  “Is he with you?” A new soft voice, mumbled from narrow lips.