The Fanged Crown: The Wilds by Jenna Helland Read Free Book Online Page A

better choice to guard the ships. Besides, Cenhar carried a greataxe, and a jungle seemed like the kind of place where they might need to chop down a tree—or something more vicious.
    “Don’t worry, Verran,” Cenhar said. “They’re always like that. It’s especially bad when things get hairy. Whenever Harp starts joking, somebody’s going to get hit.”
    “Mainly because Harp thinks he’s funnier than he is,” Boult said.
    “Kitto thinks I’m funny,” Harp protested.
    “Kitto thinks we’re all funny,” Boult said amicably.
    From his place at the back of the boat, Kitto didn’t say anything, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Kitto
    was easily amused by the antics of the world. Although he was quiet, Kitto seemed to be a master at picking up subtle things that Harp usually missed. Kitto could pick a cutpurse out of a crowded bazaar before the thief even made his move.
    “Should we be worried?” Verran asked, when the boat reached the shallows. “I mean, are things going to get… dangerous?”
    “It’s Chult,” Boult said. “What did you expect?”
    Harp and Kitto jumped out and splashed through the waves as they lugged the skiff onto the narrow beach running along the edge of the cove. Kitto crouched down and scooped up a handful of fine white sand. He let it seep through his fingers while the others pulled on their packs and canteens.
    “It’s too hot,” Harp groused. Sweat was running down his face and stinging his eyes, and his cotton shirt was sticking to his lower back.
    “It’s Chult,” Boult repeated testily. “What did you expect?”
    From the ship, the band of green that marked the beginning of jungle looked like a seamless wall of vegetation. Harp could see that the earlier assessment wasn’t far off. The edge of the jungle was an imposing barrier of thorny vines, jagged leaves, and flowers in startling shades of red and orange.
    “How in the Hells do you expect us to get through that?” Boult said, peering at the tangled undergrowth in front of them.
    “Avalor said there was a path to the colony,” Harp told him.
    “He didn’t happen to know where the path began, did he? There’s probably a mile of beach along that cove.” “Well, we’d better start searching.” As they walked down the beach, tiny red crabs skittered
    across the sand at their approach. There were no breaks in the wall of vegetation or paths leading into the darkness of the jungle. Except for their footprints in the sand, there was no evidence that anyone had ever discovered this pristine corner of the world. But as Harp and his men searched the beach, he began to hear sounds from inside the jungle. A faint vocalization, like the cry of a wounded beast, and a rumbling growl echoed out of the jungle. Even more disturbing were the rhythmic sounds that seemed too regular to be accidental.
    “Is that drumming?” Verran asked nervously. They’d all heard rumors of what dwelled in Chult, the feral monstrosities that had survived for ages hidden in the tangled undergrowth that covered most of the island: yuan-ti, carrion crawlers, purple worms, plaguechanged horrors too terrible to consider.
    “The colony is just a mile inland,” Harp assured him. “Once we find the path, we’ll be in and out before nightfall.”
    The men spread out along the beach, searching for what should have been seen easily. In his experience, forests were quiet, reverent places crowned by oaks and conifers, where man or elf could walk between the trunks of trees hindered by no more than the occasional blackberry bramble. The Chultan jungle couldn’t be more different than the forests of his childhood. Listening to the distant, unfamiliar sounds, Harp felt as if he was faced with a creature he’d never encountered before. It was vicious and feral with only one purpose—constant growth toward the heavens.
    A few paces down the beach, Kitto stood close to the edge of the jungle. With his eyes closed, he held his hands up with