Chapter 21: Waterfall

Emerius grabbed Charon’s shoulder hard. His fingers dug into his skin, even through the robe of the Warden. "You told me this is a place for the undead. We will find nothing good where that sound is coming from." Without another word, he turned and began walking towards the waterfall, veering off course from the dark tree. Momentarily stunned, Charon moved after him. "Then why are we going towards it?" "Because, despite my better judgement, there could be others like us trapped here. There is strength in numbers." The logic made no sense to Charon. ’So he thinks we won’t find anything good, but will still risk exploring it? What kind of plan is that?’ Despite his misgivings, Emerius was already making his way towards the sound, and Charon couldn’t think of a way to convince him otherwise. They moved through the brush, stepping over plants and branches alike while pushing aside tall grass, leaves, and shrubs. Emerius seemed to have an easier time of it, moving with a grace and agility that did not fit their environment. Charon, comparatively, moved with the grace of an elephant in a glass factory. He constantly stepped on branches, stumbled over roots, and hissed with every stray thorn that cut his arm. He did his best to muffle the noises, but he had no experience in stealthily navigating jungles. ’Just another thing I’ll have to get better at.’ Soon they caught sight of the river. Light blue water flowed with intensity, so clear that Charon could see straight through to the bottom. Colorful fish swam with the current, their scales shimmering a thousand different hues. Looking up from the river, Charon looked around at the tall trees, dense greenery, and beautiful sun high above them. ’This place is beautiful.’ It was perhaps the most picturesque place he had ever been, with more nature than he knew possible. Nothing like he envisioned a realm of undeath and monsters would be like. Crouching down beside him, Emerius tapped his shoulder before pointing downstream where a tall waterfall could be seen. It poured from the top of a hill made of stones, creating a small lake. Nothing moved near it, but the ringing of steel was still heard, more pronounced now that they were close to the source. For minutes, they rested there, watching the waterfall with rapt attention. As time moved on, Emerius seemed to grow more uncertain, occasionally glancing between Charon and the lake. Eventually, his patience grew too thin. Standing up, Emerius whispered to Charon, gesturing at the waterfall. "I do not see anything overtly dangerous, but that does not mean they aren’t hiding. Undead are notorious for having many tricks up their sleeves. Do not make the mistake of assuming safety." He quietly drew his second sword, handing it to Charon. "Use this only when running is not an option." Taking the blade, Charon was surprised at the weight, his hand falling a few inches before he reasserted control. It was a sleek gray shortsword with no embellishments apart from a sigil on the pommel. Giving it a quick inspection, he identified it as a dagger hidden behind a cloak. ’What a strange sigil for someone like Emerius.’ It was a bit contradictory with his golden-haired, chiseled jaw look. Emerius paid it no mind, slowly crouch-walking across the grass until he made it to the clearing around the lake. His blade was held up inches from his cheek, ready to strike. Waiting for a few seconds in the open, he gestured to Charon with his free hand, not turning to look. Taking the first step out, Charon noticed the Warden wasn’t holding him back. Having a strange thought about the lack of resistance, he stood straight as he walked out, showing less caution than he had originally planned to. ’If the Warden doesn’t think there is any danger, then it should be safe.’ It was a gamble, and not one he would normally make, but he had a growing trust for the summon. ’Maybe that’s how all summoners feel? I’ve never heard of a summon betraying their master’s trust, after all.’ Emerius stared at him with wide eyes as he sauntered past. Unable to pass up the opportunity, Charon decided to tease him a bit. His voice was kept low, but he let a bit of humor creep into it. "What? If there is something out here, it would’ve attacked you by now. No reason for us to move slower than we already are." Moving to the lake’s edge, he looked inside and admired more of the colorful fish swimming by. A myriad of strange stones dotted the bottom, glistening like jewels in the sunlight. Emerius eventually moved up beside him, his eyes darting everywhere as he spoke. "Any sign of what’s making that noise?" Charon shook his head, his eyes flicking to the top of the waterfall. "None at all. It’s loudest here, but I don’t have a clue what’s causing it." His companion scowled, carefully watching their perimeter as he gave the water a couple of cursory glances. "Stay alert. Whatever is making it is either very patient or hasn’t noticed us yet." The words he left unsaid hung in the air; it couldn’t have been other humans. Realizing that, Charon suddenly felt a lot more wary about the water, instead looking at the ground around them and the jungle’s edge. ’We are exposed standing out here; we could be attacked from anywhere.’ Moving away from the lake, he took a step towards the jungle and felt his robes fight the action. Confused, he tried to take another step, this time towards the river, but felt himself being pulled in the opposite direction. Turning around to face the stone hill the waterfall was set in, he tried to walk and found himself able to do so freely. ’Bingo.’ Placing one foot in front of the other, he kept going under he was almost flat against the wall, knowing he couldn’t go any further. Charon tried to go to the left from there, away from the lake, but the Warden seemed to dislike this as well. Turning right, he took a step and moved easily, coming face to face with the waterfall. ’It can’t be that, can it?’ Trusting his summon, he continued walking until he was standing on the edge of the lake, only a few feet from where the waterfall connected with it. Sighing with reluctance, Charon entered the water and kept moving. It wasn’t long before he was an inch from the waterfall, a fine mist covering his hair and skin. The roar of the falling water became deafening at this distance. Emerius simply stood off to the side, watching with bewilderment. Ignoring his companion’s look, Charon took a deep breath and threw himself under the mass of falling water, unable to think of a possible alternative. Instantly, he felt a heavy weight bombard his head, shoulders, and back, threatening to push him under. Fighting against it, Charon struggled through, dragging his legs like blocks of cement. The oxygen in his lungs grew thin, his one mouthful not enough to sustain him much longer. All sounds vanished except the roar of water, bathing him in its might. Until he made it to the other side. Charon fell to his knees and released the stagnant breath, gulping in fresh air like a starving man would food. His hands gripped slick stones as he heaved, a distinct ringing sound coming from just ahead. Looking up, he gasped in shock as he discovered the source. A skeleton sat in the center of a large cave, sitting on an oak chair. Hundreds of tall purple candles were arrayed in circles around the macabre throne, flickering brightly. Around him hung a series of weapons suspended from ropes, clanging against the cave walls as the waterfall made the hill shake. Each clash made them all ring out, creating a noise much greater than would be expected. It filled the cave like the inside of a great bell, echoing off the walls and out of the watery door. Charon slowly stood up and cringed, horrified at the state of the skeleton. Embedded into the body at various vital locations, he counted ten knives, each inserted perfectly straight as if done by a surgeon. Two for the eyes, one for the skull, one for the mouth, one for the throat, another for the heart, a seventh for the stomach, and the eighth and ninth in each knee. The tenth was the strangest, stabbed through the back of the chair to pierce the skeleton’s sternum, the blade an inky black. Not wanting to remain looking at the corpse, Charon turned to the candles, watching their wicks dance in the darkness. A sudden thought hit him. ’If this guy had been dead for a while, wouldn’t the candles have burned themselves out?’