Christopher Golden - The Veil 01 - The Myth Hunters by The Myth Hunters Page A
Authors: The Myth Hunters
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his shirt as he walked, thinking it would dry better if he let it wave in the breeze. But his mind was not on that task. Reluctantly, he turned to cast one final glance at the sky above the lake, the place where the Veil was thin enough for the Borderkind to pass through.
Lower, on the water, something caught his eye.
He had nearly reached that copse of trees— Frost had already begun to duck in amongst them, forging a direct path northeast— when he saw them. The surface of the lake had been broken by the emergence of small creatures, some of them still swimming but others wading onto the shore.
“Frost,” Oliver rasped.
The winter man continued on, unhearing.
Oliver called again, more loudly, and his companion halted at last, turning to regard him with deep frustration. He seemed prepared to face another argument about their course of action, until Oliver pointed back to the lake and the winter man saw the monsters at the water’s edge. Some of them had ambled out of the lake and begun sniffing at the place where Oliver had stood only moments before.
Their eyes gleamed wetly in the moonlight. The things were squat and rolled from side to side as they walked, long arms dragging beside them like chimpanzees. Their flesh was dark, but he thought he caught a hint of green in the moonlight, a putrid sort of hue. But as squat and ugly as their bodies were, their heads were far worse. Their faces were pinched, mouths pushed out like small snouts and eyes too close together. Worst of all was their skulls, which were concave on top, creating a strange kind of bowl out of their heads. Even those who had dropped to the ground to investigate managed to keep their heads upright. As they walked, shambling from side to side, their heads tilted back and forth to remain steady.
Otherwise the water in the bowl formed by their concave skulls would have spilled.
“We must go,” Frost said. “I warned you that we should not linger. They must have sensed us from deeper in the lake. We’ve drawn their interest.”
He reached out to grab Oliver’s wrist. At the winter man’s touch, Oliver hissed from the cold and pulled away.
“What are they?”
“Kappa,” Frost replied.
Oliver frowned. “What the hell are—”
The Kappa seemed to notice them for the first time. Their heads all ratcheted around to stare and Oliver did not finish his thought. He could only stare back.
The creatures began to screech. The sound tore at his ears and he clapped his hands to the side of his head. They launched themselves across the scrub grass, some of them tottering along with their overlong arms raised high, and others running on all fours, reminding him once again of chimpanzees. Yet somehow they managed to keep their heads up, water sloshing in the strange bowls upon their heads but not tipping out.
Oliver had no idea what to do. He looked around at the trees to see if any were tall enough for him to climb, thick enough to support him. Would the little monsters be able to climb up after him? He started toward one of the trees, then thought better of it and turned to simply flee to the north, as fast and as far as his legs could carry him.
Icy fingers snatched him by the arm, painfully cold even through his shirt.
“Turn! Quickly!” Frost shouted.
Without thinking, Oliver complied. He spun around to face the things. Terror leaped in his heart, for now was the first time he noticed their mouths. Their jaws were wide and filled with tiny little razor teeth, row after row, like sharks.
“Oliver!” the winter man called.
Only then did he realize Frost had been talking to him.
The Kappa came on, and now he could hear the terrible sound of their clawed feet trammeling the grass, the shushing noise as the beasts rushed toward them.
“Bow!” Frost snapped.
Oliver frowned,
Lower, on the water, something caught his eye.
He had nearly reached that copse of trees— Frost had already begun to duck in amongst them, forging a direct path northeast— when he saw them. The surface of the lake had been broken by the emergence of small creatures, some of them still swimming but others wading onto the shore.
“Frost,” Oliver rasped.
The winter man continued on, unhearing.
Oliver called again, more loudly, and his companion halted at last, turning to regard him with deep frustration. He seemed prepared to face another argument about their course of action, until Oliver pointed back to the lake and the winter man saw the monsters at the water’s edge. Some of them had ambled out of the lake and begun sniffing at the place where Oliver had stood only moments before.
Their eyes gleamed wetly in the moonlight. The things were squat and rolled from side to side as they walked, long arms dragging beside them like chimpanzees. Their flesh was dark, but he thought he caught a hint of green in the moonlight, a putrid sort of hue. But as squat and ugly as their bodies were, their heads were far worse. Their faces were pinched, mouths pushed out like small snouts and eyes too close together. Worst of all was their skulls, which were concave on top, creating a strange kind of bowl out of their heads. Even those who had dropped to the ground to investigate managed to keep their heads upright. As they walked, shambling from side to side, their heads tilted back and forth to remain steady.
Otherwise the water in the bowl formed by their concave skulls would have spilled.
“We must go,” Frost said. “I warned you that we should not linger. They must have sensed us from deeper in the lake. We’ve drawn their interest.”
He reached out to grab Oliver’s wrist. At the winter man’s touch, Oliver hissed from the cold and pulled away.
“What are they?”
“Kappa,” Frost replied.
Oliver frowned. “What the hell are—”
The Kappa seemed to notice them for the first time. Their heads all ratcheted around to stare and Oliver did not finish his thought. He could only stare back.
The creatures began to screech. The sound tore at his ears and he clapped his hands to the side of his head. They launched themselves across the scrub grass, some of them tottering along with their overlong arms raised high, and others running on all fours, reminding him once again of chimpanzees. Yet somehow they managed to keep their heads up, water sloshing in the strange bowls upon their heads but not tipping out.
Oliver had no idea what to do. He looked around at the trees to see if any were tall enough for him to climb, thick enough to support him. Would the little monsters be able to climb up after him? He started toward one of the trees, then thought better of it and turned to simply flee to the north, as fast and as far as his legs could carry him.
Icy fingers snatched him by the arm, painfully cold even through his shirt.
“Turn! Quickly!” Frost shouted.
Without thinking, Oliver complied. He spun around to face the things. Terror leaped in his heart, for now was the first time he noticed their mouths. Their jaws were wide and filled with tiny little razor teeth, row after row, like sharks.
“Oliver!” the winter man called.
Only then did he realize Frost had been talking to him.
The Kappa came on, and now he could hear the terrible sound of their clawed feet trammeling the grass, the shushing noise as the beasts rushed toward them.
“Bow!” Frost snapped.
Oliver frowned,
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