All around, there was water. Water and fog. So... a lot of water. A lot of water.
Alrek yawned and drew the oar back, dragging his little dinghy along in a lake that seemed to resist any motion he attempted across it. Fog rolled over his body and soaked his cloak in the chilly night air—and that cloak, and a pair of trousers, were all he was wearing. All he'd been able to retrieve.
He spared a bitter glance back at the great hill. Just barely visible there was the first great Standing Stone.
Alrek spat into the water and kept paddling, curling up as much as possible to conserve his body heat. He had to put those Stones out of sight. Put all of this out of sight. Hell with it.
The Misty Lake was named for more than the murk that immersed him. The waters were colored as thick as pea soup—old, moldy pea soup. A grayish-green hue that promised a helping of fellgae inhaled with every drowning breath. Fellgae was one of those undead entities that didn't really bother anyone unless they bothered it—trees that were chopped down when no one was around to hear them, flowers that never got to bloom, all collected around some sad fisherman's or lumberjack's soul to stew over old memories. It only unlived towards the surface, and rarely hampered the marine life much in obvious ways, but it made everything
look
like a river in Hell.
Alrek squinted, muttering a curse under his breath. Fellgae also made it impossible to see a thing around here. Everywhere was the same color. All he could see was what lay behind him, and he didn't want to see that.
He had been rowing all night. He hadn't slept, had barely eaten. His head was beginning to spin a little from it all. The fog was beginning to join with the water. All he could do was keep rowing, and hope he saw the forest on the far side soon.
"
Oh, boy...
" sang a voice from nearby.
Alrek gave a start. He looked around uneasily. At first, he wondered if it was one of the damn druids—maybe they'd broken their word after all, and he was bound for some ritual, or more of that catgirl's damned games... but no. It wasn't a druid's voice. The way it echoed, almost rippled through the air... through the water...
"
Boy... oh, boy...
"
He glanced warily over the side of the boat.
A pair of bright green eyes met his. A pair of plump red lips broke into a smile.
Alrek growled and turned away. Nixies. Or kelpies. Or mermaids. Something insufferable. Of course the druids would 'forget' to mention that during his and Larya's stay there. No need to tell the lambs about the wolves in the forest nearby—after all, what reason could they ever have to stray so far from home?
"
Hello, sweet boy.
"
Alrek felt the boat rock, and turned, oar in hand, to face the woman who had grasped the stern.
She was unmistakably wearing makeup, in the way many fey had of looking perfect without a hint of effort—her lips were an exquisite red, her eyelids heavy and shadowed, her cheeks bright and blushed even though the water had to be frigid.
Her black hair, by contrast, was a messy, tangled bun, dripping wet. Somehow, Alrek got the feeling that her hair would always be dripping wet, even if she spent forty years in the desert without a drop to drink. Her skin was pale—unsurprising, if she lived in a lake this devoid of light.
All light save her eyes, of course. Brilliant green, as green as freshly-cut grass. She smiled widely. "That's right," she purred, "just lift that heavy, heavy oar up, back into the boat. No sense in even
trying
to row when that oar is so, so very—"
Alrek butted her in the head with the oar. Her head snapped back with a wordless yelp, and she splashed back into the water.
He returned to rowing, scowling. He was truly, absolutely not in the mood right now.
"That was really rude," said a new voice to his left. Alrek shot a dark scowl at the second fey. This one was blonde, very pale blonde, but her thick eyebrows were colored a deep sea-green. She arched those eyebrows at him, staring carefully just out of oar's reach. "Shelly only wanted some sport, you big lout."
"You're kelpies, aren't you?" Alrek said flatly. "I know your kind of sport. Not up for it."
"Not up for much, are you?" called a third voice to his left. This kelpie, also staying carefully out of reach, had brilliant red hair the color of salmon scales. She stared evenly up at him with a smile that seemed rather out of synch with that wicked, sadistic glint in her eyes. "My name's Peg. Heavy heart, giggledove?"
He rolled his eyes, hearing 'Shelly' rising out of the water again behind him with a little annoyed coo. The three kelpies flanked his boat, but didn't block his path as he continued to row. If they came within reach, though...
"We can relate," breathed Shelly, and he heard her give a soft sigh as if something was hurting her. Despite his better instincts, Alrek glanced back.
She was holding her breasts up above the water, wincing as though it caused her some kind of sensual agony—or pleasure. They were certainly enormous—enough so that Alrek initially wondered if this was some sort of lake holstaur he was not familiar with. Great pendulous orbs, shimmering in the faint light like massive pearls.
He tore his gaze away, flushing. Turning so quickly made his whole world sway, though, and he put a hand to his head. So tired. Too tired for this shit.
He would come to regret this show of weakness.
"Aw," breathed Shelly, but this time he didn't turn back. "They're so heavy up here, Jenny. S-So... heavy..."
"I know, right?" Jenny, the blonde, gave a sad sigh. "The surface is a heavy place, Shelly. Everything...
tugs
you down. Back down, down, down to the waves. You might escape for a time, but always... always slipping back down, down, down."
Alrek lifted his oar to the left side, pulled it through the water, then lifted it to the right side and continued rowing. He felt so tired, so bitterly angry in a way only going over twenty-four sleepless hours could allow. He absolutely refused to even listen to these kelpies try to hypnotize in. He was
not in the mood for fey, damn it
.
"I know!" Shelly giggled. "They weigh me down
soooo
terribly, Jenny. I find myself getting so heavy... and sleepy..."
She loudly yawned.
Alrek caught himself yawning. Damn it, that wasn't fair! Just yawning made him feel a bit dizzier, sleepier. And though he didn't look, couldn't risk being drawn to meet their gaze and stare in helpless trance, he could tell the kelpies were smiling. Peg's eyes glowed like embers in the roiling mists as she smiled at him, licked her red lips...
Alrek realized he was staring at her and tore his gaze back to the path. Or what he hoped was the path.
"Like, right? Especially when it's so foggy out, so late at night." Jenny was nodding. Her voice grew softer with every word. "My eyelids just start to feel like... lead weights... and it's
soooo
hard to keep 'em up."
"I know what you're doing," Alrek snapped.
All three kelpies turned to him, smiling innocently. He scowled at Shelly.
"What are we doing?" she asked, batting her thick eyelashes, cupping her breasts nonchalantly.
"You..."
No, this is an obvious one. Don't answer it.
"Just fuck off. I'm not in the mood."
