Page 134 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
As I march down that underground passage now, I take stock of my weapons, preparing myself to face the lonyx I know is waiting for me. My swords are strapped to my back and multiple daggers are sheathed to my body, as well as one tucked in each boot.
Sooner than I remember, the view of my destination takes form in the humid darkness. Pausing, I double check for the tool I will need to complete my task: The crude stake made of willowbane—bone white with etchings of runes. It is strapped at my waist, easy to reach in the likely event that I will have to work swiftly.
The cavern is no different from all those years ago, no different from the vision Ellya showed me. The same smooth surface of the pool despite the water misting in from above; the same emerald glow; the same dread and doom.
Cracking my neck, I take a deep breath, wasting no time stepping into the shallow water.
As expected, the water ripples from the center, gentle waves of warning.
The lonyx appears much quicker than its slow ascent years ago, mostly likely due to my own swift pace.
I unsheathe a sword, ready to strike the moment it pounces.
It leaps up out of the water, arcing straight above my head, droplets of water raining from its underside.
My stare follows to where it lands on the shore behind me.
Its mouth is wide in a terrifying grin of challenge. It inhales through that flat nose, taking in my scent.
“Yooou,” it hisses the same as it had all those years ago.
Raising my sword, I ready for the lonyxto strike.
It bounds for me with unnatural speed. I swipe, aiming to slice it from throat to belly.
It spins midair at the last moment, just barely being nicked on the chin. It screeches in fury, the sound resonating like a gong, before splashing back beneath the surface of the pool.
It attacks me underwater, and I roll to the side to avoid the swiping of those scythe-like talons, submerging myself.
Breaking back above the surface, I shake liquid from my hair and face when the creature comes for me, its face hovering above the water.
Unsheathing a dagger with a scream—the noise swallowed by the muffled acoustics of the cave—I charge towards the lonyx and plunge the dagger into the thick scales of its shoulder.
The blow is not fatal, but I take the opportunity to move closer to my goal.
The pulsating green behind the mist taunts me; it calls to me like a lover with seductive words.
I am almost to the waterfall when the lonyx leaps to the cavern wall. Its long talons dig into the rock where it lands. It grins at me with a hiss, trailing its eyes to my destination.
Without a doubt, it knows what I am here for.
The lonyx’s deadly grin widens, baring those jagged red teeth, before it starts to run along the curved wall of the cavern. Its long talons gouge into the wall and kick up sprays of chipped rock in its wake.
We both scurry towards the same thrumming beacon in a race of wills.
Running through the water slows me considerably.
Shifting my sword to my left hand, I pull the willowbane stake from my belt with my right, prepared to pry the fucker from the rock wall as soon as I reach it.
I am sure it will not be easy. I did not expect any of this to be easy, but all I can do is try and hope that it is worth it.
The lonyx reaches the glowing green before I reach the mist.
It digs its claws into the rock, placing its body directly over what I seek and turns its head backwards and counterclockwise, looking at me over its shoulders, upside down, that terrifying grin widening at me through the hazy mist.
As I clear the waterfall, I throw my sword at the creature.
It jumps into the pool before the tip of my sword digs into the stone, the lonyx narrowly avoiding what would have been a fatal hit.
