B2 Chapter 322: Crossing, pt. 1

On their approach to the waterway that cut its way through the jungle, Kaius and his team hiked up one of the area’s rare hills. It was barren, a singular tree dominating its peak and choking out the undergrowth too close to its trunk. Covered only by a light dusting of wildflower and brush, it was an island rising above the sea of green.

They loitered among chest high roots as they surveyed their approach. Water roared a short distance ahead, drowning out the living ambience of the jungle with an endless torrent of white water and a spray that kicked up almost as high as the canopy overhead.

Half a league away, maybe a little less, an arch of jagged rock curved gracefully over the chaotic churn. Wide as a road, and barely steeper than the gentle hill they watched from, it was exactly the crossing they hoped it would be.

It was, to Kaius’s eyes, decidedly unnatural. Perhaps if the river was set into a rocky ravine it wouldn’t have been out of place, but the banks of the river were flat and loamy. It was a construct of the Depths, placed to provide its challengers a path forwards to greater adventures and threats — nothing more.

Damned thing gave him the willies — in his experience, the Depths did not create something so convenient, obvious, and helpful without there being some catch.

Yet, even with a convenient vantage point and a number of Skills to assist him in ferreting out the threat he could feel like a bared knife on his throat, there was nothing. A few beasts ambled through the undergrowth, ferns and brush waving to announce their passage. Still. They weren’t directly in their path, and Explorer’s Toolkit seemed unconcerned with the threat they presented. Nor could he spot any groups big enough that they would have to go out of their way to avoid.

It looked safe. Nowhere was safe, he’d learnt that lesson long ago.

Kaius peered into the mist kicked up by the crashing rapids. Truesight was a potent skill, peeling back the layers of obfuscation to let him see far further than should have been possible. Even then, his sight was fully clouded after a half-league of haze, and he still couldn’t see the far bank.

Any other day, he might have marveled at the sight of such a large river. When they’d first entered the biome, they’d been distant enough that he hadn’t been able to grasp the full scale of them. Even in the Sea, a wild bastion of nature, with rivers fed by the Wildguard mountains, he’d only seen waterways half the width of the stretch he could make out.

In his current circumstances, the size and poor sight lines only made him feel jittery. Were there beasts on the far bank? A waterbound monstrosity waiting to pounce as they crossed over the deepest parts of the river, where the water was black as night and ran with the fury of a monsoon?

Kaius huffed as he leaned forwards to rest his elbows on the root in front of him. He didn’t know what was out there — only that there had to be something.

“What’s squeezing you by the balls?”

He turned back, raising an eyebrow at Porkchop. His brother was sitting next to Ianmus, waiting for them to assess their approach.

“That’s a new one.”

“What? You expect me to speak using something that’s as bothersome as words, and not have fun with it?”

Kaius chuckled, shaking his head. Porkchop had him there. While he was more than confident in using his brother’s beast-tongue by now, it was still a little too…visceral for him to find it comfortable to use constantly. The raw sharing of experience and understanding was a heady thing, but it left little barriers or privacy — even with Porkchop having a front row seat anyway, it didn’t come naturally to him.

“True enough — anyway, my issue is that there’s nothing. A few beasts out of our direct path that we could handle easily anyway, but no signs of swarming shoals of man eating fish, no sea serpent breaching the whitewater, and no tightrope thin edges of slippery rock that might send us into the river.”

“Well, that sounds trustworthy and puts me perfectly at ease.”

Kaius nodded, “Exactly.”

Next to Porkchop, Ianmus gave him a calculating look — like he was trying to assess how much of their deadpan was genuine resignation and how much was a joke.

“You’ve got to be exaggerating, right? I know this place is dangerous — I did get a hole blown in my stomach after all — but not everything that looks safe is hiding danger.”

“It isn’t,” Kenva replied, not turning around from her watch. “That’s what makes it dangerous. Somewhere like this? First day, week, even month, you’re all hyper-vigilance — jumping at the wind. But you can’t sustain that, the mind isn’t built for it. So you start to calm down — not confident or comfortable, but less tense. You respect the danger, but you get confident. Then something you were sure was going to be dangerous turns out just fine. The first time, it doesn’t affect you. Same with the second, third, and fourth — but eventually you start to expect it. Start to feel like you’re safe. Next thing you know, you’ve got a set of jaws sinking into the back of your skull.”

Kaius turned and looked at the ranger in surprise. He’d thought this was Kenva’s first delve, but her insight was one that he’d only seen in seasoned delvers who’d had the mettle to push through to High Bronze or Iron. It had been everywhere in the guild — braggadocio hiding a honed blade of alert suspicion. Even in the safest possible place for them, the old-hats had still been watching.

“What?” Kenva turned and gave him a look. “I grew up near the foothills of the Drozags. It might not be quite as dangerous as here, but there was plenty enough to learn to pay attention.”

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That explained things. The inner reaches of the Drozags were as lethal as the deep Sea — a high mana region. Kaius tilted his head.

“What do we do then?” Ianmus asked.

“What we always do — Stay alert, watch each other’s backs, and be ready for a fight. No point avoiding the place. Instincts or not, if they say it looks safe, that’s as safe as we can hope for.”

Kaius nodded, before he caught Kenva’s eye. “Spot anything I didn’t?”

She shook her head. “Nothing — not a damn thing.”

He sighed again. Porkchop had the right of it. It wasn’t like they could simply keep walking to the next crossing — gut feel or no, that would be pointless. Either it looked safe too, in which case he’d have a bad feeling about it, or it would be dangerous, which was undoubtedly more risky — even if it would have made him feel better about the whole thing.