Chapter 4

From the Daylog of Vaeol-Zheieveil u’Zhasaele Zolaemaue be’Son

17. Ashelae - 6th day afare, 3rd on the Yaro’s Eastern Bank
Today was our second on the Darkfloor, and though yesterday we made good time, today met misluck, such that I wonder that we may recover.
It started midmorntide when we witted the Darkfloor had stilled. It is never plightless. Yet the balethings lurking in these benighted grounds fear little and keep their own tides. When even the megapedes halt chittering and the owlshrikes stop hooting, one bewares. At once I bade Erymi find a wardsome stead and cast witchlights on all our speartips.
Then we witted a pack aring, seemingly easy in darkness and caught when our witchlight outshowed them. At first, we almost bethought Coeurl, though Coeurl do not hunt in packs, and are even not so still as these. The Shota, already worried, at these things’ sight almost afrightened even with our mind-bonds. From Ess I have erenever felt such fear.
The balethings rushed, and no more time but to fight. Dark, oily-blue beast-shapes, each looking over thirty stoneweights, bounded forth. Instead of a Coeurl’s stinging whiskerlimbs, they had manes of twisting slime-limbs, which I feared almost threatful as their bites. We fewtered swordbills and struck back. Luckily, the Shotalashu, witting the fell-things onslaught, withstood fright and fought. Ess’s fangs wrought short work of one unhappy enough to fall within his reach while I swung my blade to right and left and scored wounds against more. A couple riders were dragged down, whom we hurried to save and hacked their foes ashred, shedding pools of sickening black blood. The riders’ steeds proved true and came to their welfare, tearing at the foe.
Here we learned something unsettling: the balethings unbeminded the Shotalashu. Instead, they came after us. At end, the archers saved us. Less led half with axes to uphold us riders while Tae’s half shot a fierce shaft-hail from the rear, felled sundrym and wounded many, driving any outliving back into darkness. Swiftly we slew any crippled foes, grabbed our wounded, and got our back to a redtree’s stump. We had slain eight in the first clash, with a twelvesome outstanding. Though the odds had shifted to our behoof, we had three wounded. Ruefully, I had a spate with Erymi, whom I found astride the fore-row, leading the riders. I chided her reminded she is bechild, and bade her arear, along with Sievae. She snapped back that her unborn child would not reck if we do not outlive. Misgiftfully I left her.
Then a Shota sniffed its rider’s wound, sneezed, and hissed. It backed away and growled worrisomely. Nae the rider told its steed smelled foulness. I reckoned we must deal with some blight from the things’ wounds. So I healed them, in sake it could forkeep the blight from root.
Meanwhile, the archers had stricken another sixsome of the swart-things. Still the stayers outheld, dinlessly stalking our edge. under our watch, they stirred not at noise, neither brush breaking nor arrows whirring overhead, almost as if they heard not.
With no end foreseen, we reckoned to rush them, though we feared they would fade into shadow. So while the archers watched for clean shots, I split our riders to two groups - one to flee rightward as bait, and the other to wait until they afterhunt. Then, when the first group (which I would lead) wheeled back, we should catch the foe between. For the first group I took our bow-riders Delys, Sievae, andTae, along with our two most heavily byrnied spear-riders, for I had little doubt what threat we would meet.
We gathered astand in a tight sixsome, and then rode forth at mild lope. A long breathtide awaited hint whether the balethings stirred afterward. Then arear us broke a crash, and Tae yelled warning. I bade the bow-riders take any shots rearward they could, though our hunters’ stillness meant we could not tell our hits.
Then behind blew a horn as our other rider-team under Oshis brunted the foe’s rear. I beckoned our wheel and bade Ess head back. He spun smartly, and I fewtered my swordbill while I reached war-mind the others. Then we waited not as I bade Ess rush.
From darkness a swarthy-blue hunter burst toward me. I aimed my billtip into its maw and beheld the weapon-stroke knock its head backward, neck breaking, body flipping doll-like. Another leapt from my left, but I ducked and took its snapping tailstroke ashield, whence I heard another Shota’s angry roar and axe-crunch against bone. An arrow whizzed a stridespan from my head, since our archers withheld not. Then flailed a swift madness, tumbling, snapping bodies, until suddenly I found myself crossing hafts with Oshis. I withheld want to kiss him. Instead, we turned and oversaw the last beasts’ death-throes. 
At end, we killed them all with no wounded more but a Shotalashu with a bad gash. When another steed smelled the wound, however, he gave no heed of foulness, which we took well. I then paid further mind to our three wounded. One rider the Shota deemed cleansed and healed. Of the other two, Nae and Seaevomel, however, who had ridden with me since my first command, their Shota still hissed foulness. Fearfully they eyed me, which I could but mirror, for what doom they forelooked we knew not.
I bade the underreeves oversee the warriors’ and get back at ward while I sat away, cleansed my mind, and thought on my warrior’s likely doom. If we let the foulness fester and grow, I misdoubted they would die. Thus we needed harsh deed to forestall. So I bade a campfire and had Oshis lay a handaxe within to heat. Kindly as I could, I outlaid Nae and Seaevomel the strait, who were both sobbing half-madly. When the axeblade was red-hot, I bade the Korasha first hold Nae down, and then Seaevomel, while Oshis set the hot blade against their wounds. Their screams broke my heart, set their Shota braying in shared hurt, and stilled the Darkfloor again, all while the stench of roasting meat besickened. Swiftly as I could, I healed them.
While we made a hasty field-camp, I had Less offcut a balething’s head as token, and also flay another’s hide, for I wish to tell these things to the lore-masters and have them outreckon. With no tanning-wise, we rubbed salt thereon. At once a man yelled warning - the salt was melting the hide!
I again saw our wounded. In good news, Nae’s steed Nomi had smelled her burn-wound and soothed. I took it as good token that she was healed and let her rest. Then I headed to Seaevomel, who lay with wounded leg wanly upon her saddlebag, even while Raeva her Shota hovered overward, sometimes bending snout near to sniff or lick, and then to rear backward hissing. Ill token, which I reckon the others felt too easily from my mind. Oshis upcame with the grimmest face. Behind his back he held his war-axe, trying to hide it from Seaevomel while he mind-spoke with me. Yet she spied the weapon and yelled we should not take her leg, forwhy without she could no longer ride. We tried overwinning her for her life’s sake. Yet she withstood and forbade. With no other wise to heal, I called a fivesome other riders to sit aring in a songtide while the others stood watch. Together we beseeched Burning-Mother’s blessing while she swooned and sweated.
At dusktide while still we sang after more belltides, Seaevomel died. I heard her breath leave her body while Raeva’s shriek, the hurt of their mind-bond breaking, split the darkness. All stilled tightly, unleastly for grief at Seaevomel’s loss as for fear of some new bane bewitting us upon the Darkfloor. The grooms tried to tame the bereft Shota. Yet it would take no kindly hand and fled into Father-Night’s cloak.
I asked Less and Oshis to have some Korasha offbear her body and dig a swift grave. It seemed unright to leave her bare on the Darkfloor for the grubworms. Also, I feared whatever blight still festering and would not let it besicken us. Yet after the grave-team took her (and I sat here, already starting this log), a shout broke our sorrow, coming from where the grave-team had borne her. I upleapt and ran, mindlessly grabbing my swordbill. I found them offstanding, holding axes and shovels at ward while they stared and yelled at Seaevomel’s body.
Her body, uncannily, was stirring, which should not be, for amidst our mindshare while songtide, I had felt her mind die. Nothing of Seavomel’s soul could be driving that body. Swiftly as I could, my mind reached out, seeking the self dwelling within the body, which had risen to a queer crouch, hands and feet aground with back bowed high. To my shock, I found a mind within; but not Seaevomel’s, something un-Lashunta, beastlike, eldritch.
I yelled warning to my warriors even while I gathered their minds with mine. Straightway they fell to row and raised weapons and tools, even while the unworldly thing beholding Seaevomel’s body crawled forward. Her head lifted, dead eyes aiming at us. Her jaw opened uncannily wide. Hanos, wielding a shovel, struck at the eldritch body’s flank. His blow opened a gash whence no blood flowed. Like a frightened beast the thing flinched and scuttled away. Thoughtlessly we gave hunt, outwoken at sight of our sithmate’s body so befouled. 
The thing in Seaevomel’s body leaped upon a treebeam, foreguessably to climb upward and beyond reach. Yet the moss-whelve crumbled under her hands, and it halted at head-height, trying to keep hold from falling. I did not halt but drove my swordbill’s blade into her back, pinning the thing to the beam.
Seaevomel’s head turned at me, jaw still wide, eyes gazing witfully but with nothing of Seaevomel within. I stared, waiting for the others to come aring, and dared not loosen my hold.
Then her mouth burst. Blood gushed and ran down her neck and breast, and something else flopped out: a tongue too long and dark. It first dangled, but then twitched. While I watched it coiled and struck snakelike at my weapon.
Yet by then not only the grave-team but other warriors had come at the warning. Some gaped slackly while some sobbed. I yelled for axes to end this unworldly madness while I held it stuck against the tree. Soon but dreadfully Seaevomel’s arms and legs were offhacked, until only her body, head, and that unholy tongue still writhing hung between my blade and the tree. With hands shuddering I wrenched it out. Less waited with axe high. Soon as it fell aground he clove into Seaevomel’s head, splitting both it and the uncannily long tongue, which still twitched. 
Something in its dark purple hue misgave me over the baleful swart-things that had killed her. I bade for salt, all we had, and poured it on her cloven head. The tongue shuddered, seethed with smoke hissing from its flesh, and withered. Somehow it was the swart-thing’s swawn, maybe the blight the Shota had smelled within Seaevomel’s wound. It had overtaken her, outsteading her brain, and made her body its steed.
I retched. Then I bade the warriors gather all deadwood they could and burn her body. I hope that writing this log will cleanse this awful memory. Yet still I see her twisted face upon the treebeam and that foul tongue bursting forth.