Boots Chapter 11

Boots’ leg had a cramp and he was desperate to shift and ease the feeling, but he dared not move in the strange and sudden quiet of the night. Not with Burig and Chandra both staring so intently, just past where he was hiding, as they watched the water. Not without understanding what he had just heard Chandra say, they’re coming. 

“Are the precautions we discussed in place?” Chandra asked. 

“Yes, as you specified,” Burig said, as he loosened his sword in its sheath. 

“Good,” she said, “I’ll get my things ready. Hold my perimeter.” 

He nodded. “Go, I’ll be ready.” 

She backed away and then turned and hurried to the table where Vicely was already waiting. Burig’s eyes gave the waterline in the distance a final sweep before turning away as well and calling out orders. 

“Bridda!” Burig called, “the shadows are growing long. It’s time.” 

Bridda seemed to know exactly what that meant and reacted quickly. A man named Kiefer was given instructions. A soldier was assigned to Vicely and Chandra. Other orders that Boots did not understand were called out. And everywhere he heard the warning to ‘use the wax’ being repeated. 

In the rush of orders and bodies Boots was beginning think it was time for him to be on his way. There was an edge of trepidation that was overtaking the excitement from before. He wondered if Colin was still waiting for him and how much of the excitement his friend had overheard. 

On the beach, Chandra gave rapid instructions to Vicely who was nodding and moving quickly to obey. Burig seemed to be pacing nearby, as if concerned Chandra was not acting fast enough. Vicely followed Chandra with a bowl, and the woman took pinches and sprinkled them in a circle around the beach. Again, it looked to Boots like protection – to keep something out, or maybe to keep something in. 

Either way, he decided it was probably time to start moving. He was taking stock of where the soldiers were and trying to think of how best to signal to Colin when he felt it – a thunk through his legs where they rested on the grass. It was like thick ice cracking in the cold of winter, like the bones of the earth had shifted deep in the ground. Lady Chandra briefly teetered as if losing her balance or overcome with dizziness. As her assistant steadied her Burig hurried over. 

“I’m almost done!” she cried out, as he drew his sword, “but I won’t be able to stop it before they arrive!” 

Burig called out some orders that Boots could not follow. This set off a chain reaction of other orders being repeated up and down the river’s edge. Boots started backing away through the grass and tried to gage the best direction to run. 

“At the water’s edge, they’re here!” Someone yelled. 

Boots stopped. A wind with a cold edge blew along his neck, it seemed to whisper through his hair and sigh in his ear, but the grasses around him remained mysteriously still. As a waiting quiet fell over the night Boots again heard that rhythmic stroking of the water. His skin prickled over and the hairs along his arms and neck stood on end. 

Something was approaching. 

Boots’ eyes turned to the shore at the edge of the small beach beyond the rotting shark’s carcass. The firelight of the torches was just a glimmer on the dark surface of the river, but the water seemed to be spreading upwards along the bank. The sigh in the wind became a thread of song that was just at the edges of his hearing. 

Something pale and hand-like stretched out from the water line and into the sand. As the dark water ebbed back again it revealed a slim, pale wrist, and a long arm. Then a shaggy mound that could only be a head. 

The head tipped up, all pale skin and shadows, looking like no more than a skull in the darkness. Boots felt a cold fear ripple from his scalp to his feet. 

“What in Wodan’s name…” Boots whispered to himself. 

“Don’t let them sing,” the captain called. 

As Burig came across the beach, his sword naked at his side, the thing in the water lurched to its feet. There were more, crawling and slithering from the water, pale shapes in the dark grass. They seemed human, but also wrong. Too drawn-out and thin, clothed in pale rags dripping with dark seaweed. It seemed they either darted with impossible quickness or lurched forward unevenly. 

River wraiths. Boots’ panicked mind whispered. The nikka. 

Boots’ eyes widened as he watched Burig charge forward and impale one through its open mouth. The captain pulled his sword free with a heave and chopped mercilessly at the next one before the first one had fully crumpled to the ground. It seemed the white, stick-like figures had no chance against the hardened metal of his blade. 

All along the shore, Boots could see more pale shapes moving through the darkness. He imagined that the soldiers were waiting to meet them with cold steel. Boots felt sick with fear and horrified at the violence. He needed to get away from this place, and fast. But not without Colin. 

Boots scrambled towards the river, calling Colin’s name in a loud whisper. He made it to the place where Colin should have been waiting; Colin wasn’t there. His brain tried to scramble through logic, to think of where Colin would have gone, but his thoughts were too jumbled, so he picked a direction at random and started calling Colin’s name a little louder. 

“Here!” An answer came. Startled, Boots turned quickly and saw Colin’s wide-eyed face and shoulders come through the grasses. 

Boots opened his mouth to suggest they run as far from the river as possible, but all that came out was a warning, “Colin -”  

Five white fingers crept over Colin’s shoulder as he read the panic in Boots’ face. The finger’s clamped down hard. Colin’s face transform from worried to terrified before he was yanked backwards into the long grass with a cut off yell. 

“Colin!” Boots yelled, bounding forward. 

He dove through the grasses, no longer caring how much noise he made. He whipped around in the darkness; the long grasses swayed in the wind again, or was it the passage of those strange things? He called for Colin again. There were sounds at the edges of the night, creeping around his thoughts and making it difficult to focus. 

Boots thought he heard a cry from closer to the river and ran towards it. At the edge of the field the ground tipped away at a steep incline towards the water and into deeper darkness. A few trees clung to the earth against the seasonal rise and fall of the river waters. Boots steadied himself on their trunks as he made his way down, staring into the night, trying to find shapes in the gloom, trying to hear over the distant sounds of battle and the rushing in his ears. 

Maybe it was the fear, or the panic, but he was having difficulty focusing. His thoughts were thick, and his vision seemed to waver. 

He rubbed at the side of his head, at his ear, trying to clear the rushing sound as he made his way down the slope. He thought he saw something flit by at the corner of his sight, and then the shush of a voice. He stopped, even as his heart thudded forward, and he listened. There was nothing beyond the pounding of his heart, and that tuneless sighing in the air. He forced himself to keep moving. 

Again! There was something to his right. 

“Colin?” he called, hopefully. 

He thought he saw a white garment trail away into the darkness, he whipped his head around too late to see who it was. Probably not Colin. 

The leaves in the trees above him rustled, his vision seemed to ripple like a cloth. He could no longer tell the sound of his own breathing from the rushing in his ears. He took a few steps backward and froze, sensing a presence at his back. 

Every hair on his body stood straight on end. 

There was one right behind him. He was sure of it. The hammering of his heart pounded hot blood through his veins, but his body was covered in a sudden chill. A thin thread of that hypnotic song wound through his ears freezing his limbs in place. He felt a soft breeze across his neck and imagined the creature’s open mouth just behind his ear. 

He decided against turning around and darted straight forward instead. Something grabbed at his shirt and long thin fingers snatched at his arm. He cried out in surprise and tripped over his feet. Then he was falling, grabbing at branches as he rolled down the hill and landed heavily in some kind of low shrub. He heaved his body around in its nest of twigs and leaves to try and face his attacker. 

He saw one fully for the first time. Pale skin, stringy hair, soulless eyes with white irises and black all around. It seemed to weave towards him across the ground like a white flame. Its mouth gaped open and he realized with a sickening feeling that the thing had no tongue, just an open, toothy maw of thin, sharp teeth. The creature reared back, as if hissing or preparing to strike. 

Boots struggled, still tangled in the bush. One hand landed on the ground and he found a rock. He flung it forward, catching the creature on the side of the head. He half rolled, half crawled free of the twigs and leaves. 

But when he tried to stand the world seemed to tilt sideways and roll his thoughts away. Everything that had happened that evening, the shark, the teeth, Burig, Colin, the creatures from the river, all of it seemed like a dream that he could not quite remember upon waking. And because it was a dream, it seemed unimportant, and he let it slip away as he staggered forward. 

The only thing he could remember was that he was trying to get somewhere – away or to was another story. 

Boots stumbled; he grabbed a tree. 

That noise. 

Not quite a song, but a chorus of dissonant humming and tuneful sighs, carried by the wind and layered together with such depth you could sink your consciousness into it. 

He leaned against the tree, feeling the rough bark press against his cheek. He sunk forward onto his knees. He had meant to keep going, but since he could not remember where he was headed, he decided that it was much easier to just lay down. 

He rolled onto his back, he absently wondered where the stars had gone and why he could not see them. Now that he was not trying to move, the smallest part of his brain was free to wonder. 

To wonder why hands were gripping his legs, his knees, his thighs and dragging him away. The eerie chorus was starting to sound beautiful, starting to make perfect sense to his ears, starting to become music. 

He was drifting in the song, barely aware of his back scratching over the ground and his head thumping off rocks as he was dragged down the incline. Something pulled at his attention, like a loose thread, or a fishing line snagged on a weed. Confused, Boots tried to open his eyes wider to see who was singing, forgetting that the reason he could not see was because it was night. 

But there was a little clearing in his mind now, something that was pulling his attention away from the song, like a faraway figure that had not come into focus, like a note out of tune with the others. His mind squinted at the disruption, waiting for it to do something more. 

There was a sort of shimmer, or wave through the fog of sound. It sent ripples through his mind and he let it pull his consciousness in its wake. He gasped with the sudden return to his own mind. 

He was aware of the smell of earth, the rocks and grasses scraping his body as he was dragged along, of a sound like ragged breathing up ahead. There was another shimmer of clarity through his mind and he felt awareness snap into place. 

All the panic he had felt before returned with a crash and he shouted and kicked out with his feet. As soon as his legs were free enough, he flipped onto his belly and tried to push himself up, he was still so dizzy. 

“Help!” he called out as he tried to find something to help pull him to his feet. 

A hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him backwards, he fell hard, the wind blowing out of him in a woosh. He felt his focus sliding away again, the hypnotic song rushed in to fill the space. He called for help again. He thought he heard someone answer with his name. 

Then there was the sound of feet running, someone moving closer, a yell, an unearthly cry, he felt his legs were free. 

“Boots, where is Colin?” a voice was asking urgently. “Wasn’t he with you?” 

Bridda was there, pulling him up by the arm. She had her sword in the other hand. He swayed and caught hold of a sapling, leaning against it as he tried to order his thoughts. 

She shook his shoulder and asked again, her voice and face floating around in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut making it easier to think. 

“It’s, it’s taking him, the things.” He opened his eyes again and looked around, getting his bearings. The urgency was returning. Colin. 

He pointed at the last place he had seen his friend. “Over the rise, I followed him this far, but I couldn’t see. It was so dark. I was…I fell.” 

“Stay close, but behind me,” she instructed. “And put this in each ear.” 

She shoved something into his hand before she dashed forward. He went to follow, but he was still unsteady and he clung to the tree a moment longer. The edges of his vision were clouding over again, he was dizzy. He saw Bridda coming back towards him. 

Something soft was mashed into his ears. His hands were wrapped around something wooden; she gave his fist a squeeze as if to make sure he would hold on. Then she pulled at his arm for him to follow. 

“Come on!” she said, her voice muffled, but her face urgent. 

He told his feet to move, and they did. Even better, they kept him upright as he followed Bridda. She had put something in his ears, ‘use the wax’ he recalled them all saying. Now he understood why. 

With that strange sound blocked out the dizziness and confusion were receding quickly. He looked down and saw he was holding a stout branch. Bridda was leading them closer to the river and he tightened his grip, realizing it was meant to be a weapon. She gestured for him to stay low and he copied her cautious approach. 

His eyes searched the darkness while his own breathing echoed raggedly in his head. He was free of that hypnotic song, but between the darkness and the wax he could neither see nor hear with any clarity. He kept close to Bridda, whose head swiveled from side to side, alert, and ready. She looked behind them and shouted a warning. 

As Boots turned to see; Bridda grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him away. He saw the white creature rear up in his face before he was spun aside to make room for Bridda to come through with her sword. She seemed to stab it through the stomach and it snarled in her face with its sharp teeth as it sunk onto the blade. Bridda elbowed the wraith off the end of her sword and flipped the grip so she could draw it across the thing’s throat in the tight space between them. 

Boots’ eyes widened, expecting a fount of blood or some liquid, but instead there were whisps of air like steam hissing from the thing’s throat as it jerked backwards then started to sort of shrink and crumple in strange bursts, like its bones were snapping within. Over the wax in his ears, he could hear a high-pitched keening that set his teeth on edge and made him want to vomit. 

He looked away and his eyes caught on a patch of whiteness and movement along the shore. A knot of the creatures all crouched down; like animals huddled over a piece of carrion, as though they had caught some sort of prey. Were those legs sticking out into the water. 

Colin. 

Boots took off with a yell, brandishing his stick. He was certain he saw a body under the trailing white garments and heads. He took a great swing at the group, knocking them over and sending one flailing into the river. There was someone lying there on his back. Bridda had followed and her sword flashed in the night. A thin hand grabbed at him and he swung wildly with the stick again, feeling it connect with a weird crunching suck, like hitting a sack of rocks and muck. He grit his teeth and swung again. 

There was a strange, silent chaos around him. With his stoppered ears, he could hear mostly the sound of his own ragged breath. But those things were seeming to retreat and shrink back to the river with snarling faces while others made that strange high-pitched squeal. He tried not to look at them as they sank away with their strange, jerky movements. 

Boots’ nausea intensified with the sound and the violence; and even more so when he realized that the person on the ground was not, in fact Colin. It was a soldier, his back in the shallows and his legs fully in the water. It was dark, but peering at the face, Boots could tell the man was very pale. 

A white hand snaked towards the body and Boots jumped back with a shout, then hit the hand with the stick, cringing as he did so. Those things were terrifying, but they still looked half-human and the mangled fingers spasmed. Bridda’s sword came down with a wicked slice and she kicked the partially severed limb into the water. 

Then she turned and looked at Boots and held out her sword, her eyes asked the question. 

“Colin?” was all he said. 

“After I get him out,” she assured him, with a nod at the soldier. 

Boots nodded, dropping his stick to take the sword and keep watch. Bridda knelt by the soldier and Boots was relieved to see the soldier’s eyes flutter as Bridda looped her hands under his armpits to drag him out of the river. 

She seemed to be talking to him, calling his name, but the sounds were muffled. Bridda worked a piece of wax out of her ears then tilted her head to one side to listen. Boots looked at her with wide eyes as she motioned for him to do the same. 

Boots cautiously removed the wax from one of his own ears. He could hear the difference the moment it was out. The texture of the evening air, the sway of the trees, the hum of insects and the gurgle of the river, it all felt familiar. 

“Keep the other one in, just in case,” she said, stopping him from removing wax from both ears. She took her wax and Boots’ and put it in the man’s ears. “If you start to feel dizzy or confused again just split the wax you have left for each ear. I think we can put that away now too.” she said, putting a hand out for the sword. 

Boots handed it over and looked doubtful when she sheathed the blade.  She caught his look. 

“Did you see how they were retreating to the river at the end? And you must have felt moments when the song was weakened, even without the wax. Chandra has worked her magic. Now help me with Alec and we’ll keep looking for –” 

She stopped and looked towards a new sound; Boots heard it too. A rippling of water from along the darkened shore. He looked about for his stout stick and Bridda put a hand on her just-sheathed sword. Then the ripples became splashes, followed by coughing that was comfortingly human. 

Boots took off towards the sound. Even in the blurry darkness Boots’ recognized the shape of his friend. Relief buoyed his last steps to Colin’s side and he helped Colin crawl the rest of the way out of the water while Bridda hoisted Alec up to drag him over. 

“Colin, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Boots asked. 

Colin coughed again, then sort of toppled onto his side. He spat up some water then let out a string of curses. Bridda had a grim smile on her face. 

“Well, he isn’t trying to throw himself back in, so that’s promising. Help him up and we’ll drag them both back to the camp.” 

Boots looped one of Colin’s arms over his shoulder and pulled his friend to his feet. Colin stumbled against Boots and seemed barely aware that Boots was there. Colin’s breathing was heavy, and he was muttering to himself, it sounded like encouragement or denial, hard to know. His skin was clammy and cold from the river water. 

Boots could still feel the impression of hands gripping his legs and dragging him towards the river. He tried not to think about having those cold, hard fingers drag him right over the bank and into the waters, into the depths of that tuneless song. Once the cool surface of the river closed over his head, he did not imagine those things would let go. A name arose in his mind, one from fairy tales and scary stories, he pushed it away. 

Both Boots and Bridda were shorter than their stumbling friends and they moved along slowly. Despite Bridda’s assurances that the danger had passed, Boots fought the constant urge to jump and run at every sound or movement. He looked over at Bridda, she seemed so calm and alert at the same time. Just as she had been while standing vigil over the shark. Boots wondered if you learned that kind of control in her line of work or if she had always been that way.

Boots became aware of an uncomfortable lump in his ribs when Colin bumped against him. Pausing a moment, he discovered the bag of shark’s teeth and moved them to the other side of his tunic. He also tucked in the salmon pendant that was dangling outside his shirt, glad he had not lost it in the struggles of the evening. 

Sounds of approach could be heard in the night, Boots froze, Colin and Alec did not even notice. Bridda paused a moment then called out, “Here, Burig.” 

The captain seemed to step out of the darkness, the silver on his dark uniform helping to outline where he was. Burig’s appearance had the same effect as Bridda’s; a reassuring competence and the sense that help had arrived. Boots felt a bit more at ease as Burig launched in with his brisk and orderly manner. 

“Good gods, there you all are. Is that Alec? Ah, Boots, good.” Burig said, his voice taught. He patted Bridda’s arm and gave Boots’ shoulder a squeeze then peered from Alec to Colin. “And here is Colin, too, I believe. This doesn’t look good. How bad was it?” 

His question was directed at Bridda, but he was still looking between the two young men. 

“Both half-out of the water when we found them. Alec was unconscious. Colin…well, Colin may have dragged himself out. I’m not sure. There’s no way of knowing how far either of them went in before Chandra’s work started to take effect,” Bridda answered.  

Alec was slumped against Bridda and gave no reaction to Burig’s scrutiny. But Colin seemed to have just noticed the captain and was waving the man away, muttering and swaying heavily against Boots. Boots saw a look cross Burig’s face – it could not possibly be fear, but it was close enough that it chilled Boots a little. 

“Is he going to be all right?” Boots asked, the momentary easing of fear Burig’s appearance had brought disappeared. Burig looked at Boots with a tight smile. 

“He will be, fortunately we have someone who can make certain of that. But he may have a rough few days. Nikka are not a trifling thing.” 

“Nikka?” Boots said, his voice hitching up. That was the name his mind had whispered at him when those things came out of the water, the word he had been avoiding since. The Nikka were water wraiths, the product of fables, something you used to scare children away from playing in dangerous water: stay away from the river where it flows swift, the Nikka are hiding in the ripples and will pull you out to sea, or, don’t peer into the well, the Nikka will wrap her arms around you and pull you into the darkness, and don’t mix darkness and drink near the water or you’ll end up a corpse groom with a Nikka bride.  

Bridda and Burig were speaking, but Boots could not attend what they were saying. His mind felt like it was being bent, the ground seemed like it might tilt under his feet again. What he had just seen; he knew they were not human. But he was not sure he was ready to accept that they were anything else. 

More soldiers were coming and going, receiving orders and relaying information. Some were carrying lanterns. 

“Get this boy and Alec to Chandra immediately,” Burig was saying. “Bridda you will need to bring Boots home.” 

“No, I want to go with Colin,” Boots said immediately, his scattered thoughts in sudden focus. His grip tightened on Colin. Alec was already draped between two other soldiers and being led away into the dark. 

“Out of the question,” Burig said. Then he turned away to speak with someone else before Boots could even open his mouth to argue. 

“You’ve done what you can for Colin,” Bridda said to Boots. “But you cannot do anymore right now. We will send for Tale to be with him.” 

“Tale will be busy,” Boots put in, stubbornly. 

“What if I go with him,” she offered. “I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he’s settled.” 

Burig had caught wind of their conversation and broke off mid-sentence with the soldier he was speaking to. “No, Bridda, you need to stay with Boots.” 

Boots saw Bridda frown in the torchlight and Burig frown back at her; almost like it was a conversation. Then there were shouts from up ahead. 

 Bridda was in front of Boots and Colin in an instant, hand on her sword ready to draw. 

“It’s Alec, be careful!” Someone warned. Bridda let go of her sword hilt and Alec came pelting towards them from the darkness crying out: “I hear them, I still hear them!” He careened off of one man who tried to get in front of him and pushed another. Burig dove forward and caught Alec around the shoulders and was soon joined by two more soldiers who were trying to wrestle the man back towards the camp. 

Beside Boots Colin stiffened and had started to shake with a tremor. He was whispering something under his breath, repeating it. 

“Get away get away get away get away…” 

He swayed to one side, almost like he was going to bolt, and Boots tightened his grip around Colin’s shoulders. 

“Bridda!” he said. 

Bridda was there, and she called out for someone to join her. They each grabbed one of Colin’s arms; he was trying to shake them off and Boots was shuffled out of the way. 

A few steps away Alec was being dragged back towards the camp while he struggled and yelled. Colin was repeating “get away” under his breath and was trying to pull away from Bridda and the other soldier, but not with nearly the same wildness as Alec. 

“Don’t do that!” Boots shouted. “Here let me. I know how to – just hold him still!” 

But no one was listening. Seeing an opportunity Boots darted forward to grip the side of Colin’s neck. Boots realized that he no longer had the right number of fingers for what he was trying to do and shuffled his grip around. He managed to get his left hand around and jab his thumb into just the right place at the back of Colin’s skull and clamp the side of his neck with his fingers. 

In moments, Colin sagged and dropped to the ground. Bridda stood there in shock and confusion. 

“How…? Is he…?” She looked at Boots, her mind calculating. “Your mother?” 

Boots stood up from checking Colin’s pulse and answered Bridda’s question. “Sometimes you need someone to be unconscious in a hurry.” 

Boots had sat vigil through more than a few procedures, ready to render the patient unconscious if the sleeping draught his mother gave them wore off. He had never had to do it using his left hand before, he absently rubbed at the missing digits on his right hand. 

Alec’s shouts were receding. Burig rushed over to Colin’s suddenly-still form. “Gods, is he –” 

“Unconscious. Courtesy of Boots,” Bridda said. 

Burig looked over at Boots. “Your mother?” 

“Yes.” 

“I suppose it’s just as well then. You two,” he gestured over two more soldiers to pick up Colin, “take him to the tent. Immediately. Stay with him until myself or Bridda has checked in.” 

The orders were swiftly followed and Boots made to join in moving Colin but was stopped by a command from Burig. 

“No, Boots,” he said sharply. “Do not make me tell you again. You cannot go with him.” 

“I am going with him,” Boots said, making to push past. 

Burig stepped in front of him, grabbing his shoulder. “No, Boots. You cannot. I need you away from here. And so would your mother. Trust me on this.” 

So many thoughts careened through Boots’ mind at once, and Burig must have seen it on his face. He tightened his grip on Boots’ shoulder, but it was more to steady now then to detain. 

“What could my mother possibly have to do with…how would she even know…” 

“It is less to do with who was here and more to do with who is here. Who might see you and know you. Please. Go with Bridda.” 

In his confusion, Boots barely understood what Burig was saying. But he heard the please. He saw the look on the captain’s face and heard the taught urgency in his tone. 

“You promise, you promise Colin is going to be safe?” Boots said. 

“I do.” 

Boots nodded. Burig gave him a pat on the shoulder, then looked past him at Bridda. Burig and Bridda had another one of those conversations that took place in looks and nods only. Burig left and Bridda came over to try and steer Boots away. “Come Boots, I will take you home.” 

But Boots was still looking off in the direction Colin had gone. 

“What Burig said was true. Colin won’t find better help than what is here tonight. Let’s get you home to rest.” 

Boots followed miserably behind her, but not too far behind, as their route took them away from the lit torches and further into the darkness. Boots realized he still had a piece of wax in one ear and took it out, working it between his fingers as he walked behind Bridda’s confident silhouette. 

He trusted Burig and Bridda, however little he knew them, and he believed they would take care of Colin. But neither of them was Colin’s friend. He felt a fresh surge of guilt and confusion at everything that had happened. He needed to take his mind off the mortifying possibility of tears and outright panic that he was certain were lurking in this tangle of emotions. 

“So, when you say nikka,” he blurted out, “you mean like, water spirits. Like the ones in stories? They are real?” 

“They are, at least for now.” Bridda answered over her shoulder. Then waited for him to catch up so they could speak while they walked. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means as long as they are drawn to this place, they are a danger to it. But Chandra will make sure that no longer happens.” 

“And Chandra is that tall lady? And she’s a…um…” Boots trailed off. The word he wanted to say was ‘witch’ but he was not sure if that was disrespectful or not. Or if it would sound ridiculous. 

“She is very powerful, yes,” Bridda said. And Boots could hear the amusement at his hesitation. 

“Does it have something to do with the shark?” Boots asked, thinking about the protective charms and wards that had been wrought at around the body of the shark. 

“Not as far as I can understand these things. I think something may have traveled with the shark, something that is alluring to the nikka. Or perhaps driven here by the same forces. But beyond that I cannot really say. It’s far from my scope of knowledge.” 

Boots had a sudden moment of panicked realization. “Oh gods, the village.” How had it taken him this long to think of it. “Is someone going to check the village? To make sure none of those things made it that far? Or any houses nearby?” He imagined the nikka lurching through the streets, slipping through doorways, yanking people out of their beds. He tried to block the thoughts. 

“Yes, yes,” Bridda said, reassuringly. “We dispatched guards along the perimeter facing the river before they even emerged. At this point it is unlikely that any made it that far, but they will make sure.” 

“And what about the bodies, the bodies of the things that are dead? What happens to those?” Boots asked. 

“There are no bodies,” Bridda said. She sounded grim enough that Boots had no desire to ask for further details on that. He fiddled with the piece of wax and tried not to think about that wailing sound as the nikka twisted in on themselves. 

“After all that’s happened with the river – the flooding, and the shark, and now this – I just don’t know that people will be able to trust the waterways around here. It’s going to be difficult, especially with stress over the blight on people’s minds too. Good thing you sent them all home. Did you know that was going to happen? Maybe Burig should stay a few days to explain to everyone. But some folks might have trouble believing that it happened.” 

“Which is exactly why we won’t tell them,” Bridda said, quickly. 

Boots heard that and stopped. Bridda took a few more steps then turned to face him. They had made it through the darkness to one of the main roads. There was a large fire and a perimeter of torches to light the area for the gathered soldiers. Her features were dim, but her tone and her stance were serious. No, that wasn’t quite it, striding smiling Bridda seemed hesitant, a strange mood for her. 

“Boots, do you fully understand why we sent the villagers home? Sure, it was to get them to safety, but it was also to get them away so that they would not see what you and Colin saw. Because we did not want them to see what you and Colin saw.” 

“You mean you don’t want them to know? But why?” Boots asked, his mind turning over what she was saying, understanding dawning. “Is it because you aren’t going to tell them? But how can they be safe? How can they protect themselves from…from…” 

Boots’ voice faded off as his mind whirled with thoughts. How would people in Holding possibly reckon with an attack from those things? 

“They won’t need to,” Bridda said, in a calm voice. “At least Burig and Chandra will not leave this place until they are sure that it is safe. Of this I can promise you. But it would be better if the people here did not know.” 

Despite the warmth of the evening Boots crossed his arms and supressed a little shudder. The side of his shirt was damp from where Colin had leaned against him to walk, the damp became cool in the slight breeze. He felt a fresh regret that he had not stayed with Colin and wished his friend was here. 

“So, you want me to lie to everyone.” Boots said, his voice was flat. 

“Not necessarily,” Bridda said. “After all, who would know of this other than you, myself and Colin? No one will ask you about it if you never mention it.” 

Boots gave a quiet laugh at her logic. “I wouldn’t be bare-faced lying, but I’ll still be lying.” His voice was hoarse. It was not just that he would be hiding danger from the villagers, but that he was, in a way, siding against them with outsiders. He admired Burig and Bridda, was a little in awe of them, but they were not his people. 

Bridda was thoughtful in her response, her words measured. “Yes, in a way you will. And I know it is unfair. But do you have any idea of how often you are lied to in that exact same way? By Yuggen, by your mother, by the king himself? My very job is to face dangers and defeat them so that regular folk like you can sleep easy at night – why would I undo that work by telling people what to fear? I need you to trust that those who need to know will know. And that Burig will not leave this village until he knows it is unquestionably safe. And that I will likely not be leaving at all, if that counts for anything.” 

There was a trace of a smile in her voice at the end. There was a strange logic to what she was saying, but he did not want to be swayed. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. “And I don’t really agree. These are good people here. I just -” he scrubbed a hand across his forehead, feeling a growing tension there. He was so tired, and afraid, and confused and worried, he did not know how to explain this new emotion that he was now feeling. 

It seemed that Bridda did. 

“You don’t like lying. And you don’t like thinking of anyone you like or respect as being a liar,” she said, putting his internal conflict into words. “I understand that, I respect it. But I also know that not every truth belongs to everyone. And if I have learned anything from my time as a soldier it is that you cannot always think of things as right and wrong. Sometimes the choices are not as simple as good or bad. Sometimes, you need to find the solution that leaves the least damage behind.” 

They were pretty words, bordering on platitudes, but it was the honesty and experience in her tone that made him consider what she was saying. He looked at his right hand and he tried to order his thoughts. Maybe that made a kind of sense. Maybe losing his fingers was better than losing his hand – or Siggu losing his life. And by keeping silent, Boots and Siggu had kept Colin from losing anything at all. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was all Boots had to go on. If he could prevent someone from feeling what he felt, that seemed worth it. 

“Can I trust you, Boots?” Bridda asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, unhappily. “I won’t say anything right now.” 

She laid a hand briefly on his arm. 

“Stay here,” she said. She walked off towards the circle of fire and Boots drifted a few steps closer to the warm light while he waited. Soon, Bridda was walking over with another soldier. 

“This is Faya, she’ll bring you home. We can use the wagon,” Bridda said. 

“You aren’t coming with me?” Boots asked and hoped he did not sound too childish. 

“I will check in with you as soon as I can. But I think it’s better if I stay here to keep an eye on things.” 

Boots nodded, realizing that this way she would be closer to Colin, and followed Faya over to a wagon. He climbed into the bed and settled himself in the corner. Faya and Bridda exchanged a few words in a low tone, then Faya clucked to the horses and the wagon started to roll towards home.