TIME August 7th LOCATION South of Arn Griishank, into the deep jungle
BACKGROUND:
Diamond dust had steadied Raven, Lord Valden had made what amends he could, and Beloq – profane, capable, and entirely unfazed by anything the jungle could throw at him – had agreed to guide the Agents the rest of the way toward Borthanza.
WHAT HAPPENED
Valden caught them one last time on their way out of the village, pressing an extra ring of diamonds on Raven – the sword they’d traded him for the first batch, he insisted, was worth far more than what he’d already given.
The jungle south of Arn Griishank was, if anything, worse than what they’d already crossed – thicker, hotter, and considerably less forgiving.
Krusha called on KemerLexi to blunt the worst of the heat and humidity for all three of them, which helped, though it did nothing for the insects.
A stumble into a patch of bullhorn acacia sent Ash fleeing straight into a nest of biting flies instead, and it took Raven wading in to pull her clear of both.
Beloq made camp with an ease that suggested long practice, and breakfast the next morning came with a delicacy nobody but him seemed willing to try – fat white grubs he called druzhina worms, eaten with obvious relish while the Agents stuck to their own supplies.
Beloq offered Ash a pick-me-up of his own after breakfast – a wad of chewed leaf and a pressed ash pellet, the kind of stimulant that kept him going through mornings like this.
She declined once she understood what it actually was.
It turned out to be the least of her problems anyway: by the time they broke camp she was feverish, certain something was moving under her own skin where the ant stings and fly bites had swollen worst.
Krusha confirmed it – botfly larvae, working their way in to feed.
Ash burned the infestation out herself with a dose from her own slagma injector, convulsing through a rigor that left a handful of tiny green-slicked grubs pushed out through the wounds.
It worked.
Nobody was eager to see it again.
A wide, weed-choked river blocked the path that same day.
Something large and reptilian had been watching from beneath the surface the whole time they debated how to cross, and it came up fast – jaws closing around Krusha’s waist and dragging him under before anyone could react.
He fought his own way free of the creature’s mouth and back to the bank while Ash put it to sleep where it floated, and the Agents crossed the rest of the way on a fallen tree bridge rather than risk the water twice.
The carcass of a blood monkey, drained dead pale with a single wound torn in its abdomen, was the only warning anyone got before evening brought stirges – a swarm of them, dropping out of the canopy and latching onto Ash and Krusha both, draining blood with every sickening pulse.
Ash went pale and unsteady fast enough that it was a near thing, losing blood by the fistful before Raven could tear the creatures free.
She made the last of them pay for it personally, gattling arcane bolts into the retreating swarm and “executing every last melon farmer” on the way out.
Between blade, mace, and that final volley, the swarm went the way of everything else that had tried to feed on the Agents so far.
Night brought jaguars – a pair of them, circling the camp just beyond the firelight, patient enough to wait for a moment of inattention before striking.
Beloq’s makeshift raised platform kept them off the ground and out of easy reach long enough for the Agents to see the cats off before anyone was seriously hurt.