by I K Spencer
Cidrl refilled his mug and leaned over and poured more brandy into Anthen's cup. Anthen took a swallow and savored the affects.
"It seems such a waste of our best young men," Cidrl continued. "You might have become a great man of science or healing, or a successful merchant. Instead you spend your life hidden in the shadows, watching the world instead of living in it. Then, of course, there is your great personal sacrifice. You have to give up your love, for what?"
"Honor," Anthen replied quietly.
"Honor?" Cidrl spat the word out. "What honor is there in a lonely life of unimportant tasks? You might as well become a monk!"
Anthen did not reply, acting as though he were weighing Cidrl's words heavily. Even while he pretended to be pensive, though, he could not help but give the older guardsmen's words some consideration.
"Well I have said enough for one night," Cidrl said while rising unsteadily to his feet. "We best get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long, hard day, especially for such an unimportant task."
Anthen rose as well and felt a little dizzy from the brandy. The horses were led back closer to the fire, then the tired guardsmen climbed into their bedrolls after securing the camp. He lay awake for some time, looking at the stars, thinking about Cidrl's words and Urvena, and wondering what the next day and night would bring. Eventually he drifted off to sleep and the nightmares came, worse than ever.
********
Garrick sat perched in the lower branches of an unusually sturdy deadwood tree about a half-mile behind the hill where Cidrl and Anthen were camped. From this vantage point, in the tree on top of a small rise, he could see the pair seated by their smoky campfire. Luckily, he had found the spot before it became too dark to see the horses gathered around the water hole. Since noting the amount of water Cidrl carried, he had become concerned about his own water supplies. He would visit the spring in the morning after his fellow guardsmen moved on.
He cautiously shifted to relieve a leg cramp as he watched the pair drink brandy. He was surprised the stunted tree had taken his considerable weight and would not be surprised if it snapped at any moment. Earlier he had supped on dried beef and stale bread while watching the pair, mainly Cidrl, feast from a basket, obviously supplied by the traitor's cook. His sizable stomach had rumbled so loudly at the sight of a fresh pie that he feared the branch beneath him would give way. He had washed down the dry, dissatisfying meal with as little water as possible.
The stocky guardsman grew more and more worried as he watched Cidrl become more animated after the pair shared whatever was in the traitor's flask. If Cidrl was successful at turning the young guardsman before they completed the crossing, Garrick worried that he would not be able to find his way without the younger man's trail of seed corn.
He had not been completely honest with the troubled young man when they discussed strategies the day before. He would not leave Anthen to race back to Carael if the young guardsman should become one of Cidrl's spellbound legion. Though he had not shared his opinion with Anthen, Garrick considered it a very real possibility that the apprentice would be unable to resist Cidrl's sorcery. Because of that likelihood he needed a contingency plan, and it depended on the amulet's other power. The sister stones were not just a proximity-sensing tool. That was really more a side effect of their main purpose—connecting the life force of the two wearers. Should the apprentice succumb, the stone would combat the traitor's spell, seeking to restore Anthen's life force.
The power to combat the enchantment, however, would come from the wearer of the matching amulet, weakening that person. Garrick would continue to weaken as long as the spell lasted and if the spell was too powerful, then it might even kill him. Therefore, if the sorcery succeeded, Garrick would continue to follow Anthen, hoping the power of the amulet would conquer the enchantment and allow the revived apprentice to learn Cidrl's plot. However, should Garrick become too weak or the traitor's plan become apparent, then he must return to Jamen, sacrificing Anthen for the greater good.
To Garrick's relief, Cidrl put the flask away and the pair settled into their bedrolls. He watched for another hour, until their fire dwindled such that it was too dark to see anyway. His muscles lame from being in the tree for hours, the old guardsman stiffly climbed down and sat with his back against the tree. He would have liked to stay awake all night but knew he needed the rest. He dropped into a fitful sleep, snoring softly. Like the younger man on the next hill, his slumber was plagued by disturbing images.
********
Anthen awoke just before dawn. He felt a dull throb in his head and a slight buzzing in his ears. It was the kind of headache, he knew, that would sharply increase in intensity when he sat up. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he caught the smell from the smoldering fire. He lay motionless and tried to will the pounding in his head to go away. He would have guessed that Cidrl had slipped him something in the brandy had he not closely watched the man dispense the potent liquid. He guessed the fumes from the deadwood-fueled fire to be the culprit and he made a note to sleep further from the blaze at the next camp.
Cidrl rose with the sun and Anthen roused himself at the same time, wincing as the pounding in his head intensified. The older guardsman was upbeat as usual, though frowned when he saw the smoldering remains of the fire.
"There is no wind," Cidrl said as he looked up into the skies. "The foul fumes from the deadwood hang about for us to take in with each breath." He rose quickly and shoveled sand over the campfire remains.
Anthen led the three horses back down to the water hole to drink their fill. Both men filled their cups from the cold coffeepot and wandered away from camp to relieve themselves. Anthen grimaced with each sip of cold coffee, which also had an unpleasant aftertaste from sitting next to the smoky blaze all night. Each man in turn made his way to the spring to wash and drink, then returned to the campsite with his animals. Within ten minutes, the experienced travelers were on their way again after packing up and replenishing their water.
Cidrl led them to the southeast throughout the day, which turned hot and dry under a cloudless sky. The land they passed through continued to change for the worse and by the end of the day, the shrunken, misshapen trees were the only vegetation along the barren landscape. Near sunset the party halted in a small grove of deadwoods for the night. Both men, as well as their mounts, were white, covered from head to toe in trail dust and sand. That evening the two men, again mostly Cidrl, finished the rest of Mazy's basket and shared more of the brandy.
Once again the apprentice's sleep was disturbed by nightmares and he woke feeling worse and less rested than the day before. He had remembered to cover the fire before they bedded down but he could still smell the foul trees in the motionless air. He momentarily worried that the very air could poison them but remembered that Cidrl had made this journey many times.
Cidrl led them east throughout the third day of their journey and the terrain continued to evolve. The small hills gave way to a sharp increase in the number of deadwood trees and the appearance of isolated pools of stagnant water. The sun was relentless and Anthen had to be vigilant to keep Rorc from drinking the poisonous water.
At nightfall the pair camped on the highest ground they could find and still their bedrolls became damp almost immediately. For supper they ate dried beef and under-cooked beans. Cidrl produced more brandy but Anthen declined, hoping the potent liquid was somehow the cause of his poor sleep and growing malaise. Abstinence proved of little help; he was tormented throughout the night and awoke feeling worse than ever.
"Today will be the most difficult," Cidrl cautioned as they broke camp. The older man remained upbeat as always and seemed completely unaffected by the severe travel conditions. "We will reach the heart of the swamps today. Here." He handed Anthen what appeared to be a bridle, though the end was solid leather. "The poisons in the water become more deadly at the heart of the swampland and we will have to ride through it in some places. This will keep your mount from drinking. Just a swallow wo
uld kill a man and make a horse sick for a week."
Anthen nodded and replaced Rorc's normal bridle with the special gear. He knew the animal did not like the muzzle but the loyal horse did not put up too much of a fuss.
"It's time to release the pack horse," Cidrl explained as he transferred half the remaining waterskins to his own horse and handed Anthen the other half. He removed the horse's tether and offered the animal all the water it wanted. "Go home!" he yelled and delivered a hard slap to the mount's rump. The animal raced off through the thick trees in the direction from which they had come. Cidrl watched the horse disappear and the two men listened until they could no longer hear the sound of it running.
"Now for the unpleasant part," Cidrl chuckled and winked at Anthen, who wondered what could be more unpleasant than what he had experienced so far on this trip.
Cidrl took a bowl and went to the nearest pool of fetid water. He squatted beneath some low branches hanging over the bog and reached into the black water, pulling up a clump of fallen deadwood leaves and muck. He pulled a few more handfuls into the bowl, then returned to where Anthen stood. The apprentice's stomach churned from the stench and he backed up a few steps. He watched as the traitor knelt and used his knife to mix the mud, leaves and foul water into mush, then Anthen uttered an oath as he realized what it was for. Cidrl grinned at the younger man as he applied the reeking mixture to his face, neck and arms.
"Come Anthen," Cidrl said with a laugh. "You get used to the smell and it is far better than being bitten by the hellish insects that await us."
Anthen breathed through his mouth alone as he approached the source of the stench. He felt as though he would lose the small amount of food in his stomach but somehow kept from vomiting as he applied the slimy paste to his own exposed skin. He noticed that the older guardsman had also caked the muck into his hair and Anthen followed suit. Thinking of Garrick, he slopped a generous amount of the foul repellent onto the ground as he applied it. Before they left, he dropped a yellow kernel to draw Garrick's attention. It made him feel a bit better to know the old guardsman would be suffering the same indignity.
The pair continued east throughout the day, although their path was far from direct. As the blazing sun rose, the number of marshes grew until they were surrounded by an endless swamp. About this same time, late morning, the mosquitoes arrived. Anthen was startled at first by the distant rumble, a deep sound in no way he associated with insects. As the oversized mosquitoes came near, Cidrl explained that the pests would buzz around them constantly but would not bite due to the repellent, so the best thing to do was to ignore them. That proved easier said than done, however, for the large creatures made such a racket that Anthen could hear nothing else when a swarm was buzzing around his head.
At about noon, they stopped for a short rest and to water the horses on some rare dry ground. Cidrl warned that they were now entering the most treacherous part of the crossing and Anthen must follow his path exactly. The apprentice dropped a seed as they pushed on.
In the afternoon a fog settled in and the mist felt hot and stifling. Anthen's clothes were drenched from the humid haze as well as his own profuse perspiration. They made slow progress as Cidrl led them through twists and turns and sometimes even backtracked from a wrong turn. He explained that the swampland changed from year to year and he had to make adjustments to his route. Anthen dropped a seed whenever the pair reached solid ground again after riding in the foul water but worried that Garrick would still have considerable difficulty tracking them.
At about mid-afternoon, Cidrl dismounted and cautiously moved forward on foot, pointing out that the land they currently traversed was not solid ground but a floating island, thick with sinkholes. Anthen regularly dropped a seed as they tentatively navigated the series of connected floating masses.
Throughout the day, with the endless buzzing, stifling heat, and putrid stench, Anthen's headache had blossomed and his stomach continued to churn. He was sweating profusely and wondered if he might have a fever. He also noted with growing concern that the traitor seemed far less affected by the torrid conditions.
The pair continued on foot for hours, warily moving through the maze of floating islands with only a few feet of visibility in any direction. Everything looked the same to Anthen and he could not imagine how the other man could navigate. When the deepening gloom signaled that the unseen sun had set, Anthen saw a mask of concern on the traitor's face as he stopped for a moment to look around.
"We have to move faster now," Cidrl said in an ominous voice. "We must not get caught in this area after dark."
"Why?" Anthen asked as he hurried forward after the retreating form.
Cidrl kept moving quickly, not bothering to look back as he spoke. "Well, as you might imagine in such a hellish place, there are creatures far worse than oversized mosquitoes."
"Such as?"
"I am fortunate to have never seen them but I am told giant serpents come out at night as well as killer bats. There are also legends of dragons but those may be just myths."
"Oh—" Anthen never finished the sentence as the ground gave way beneath him and he dropped like a stone. He felt the disgusting water rising around his legs and gasped as the stench of released marsh gas assaulted his nostrils. He instinctively gripped the halter tight and prayed that Rorc was on solid ground behind him.
Recalling Cidrl's warning, he shut his eyes and mouth tightly as he shot down into the black water. He felt no resistance as he continued to fall and wondered if the bridle had come off or Rorc was falling with him. Just as his outstretched hand slid beneath the surface he felt a strong grip on his wrist and the descent was abruptly halted. He felt himself wrenched upward and a heartbeat later his head and shoulders were back above the surface.
"Quickly! Get out of the water now!" yelled Cidrl as Anthen paused to try to clear the poisonous water from his eyes and nose.
Anthen didn't comprehend why the older guardsman was so frantic, then understood all too well as he felt something slither around his legs. Realizing the threat, he frantically struggled to pull himself up with one hand as Cidrl tugged on his other arm. He was nearly out to his waist when he felt the repulsive tentacle tighten around his legs and jerk him back below the surface with a tremendous force. Again only the hand gripped by the murderous traitor above held him from certain death. He frantically tried to pull himself up but soon realized the futility and reached for his dagger as he felt the strong tentacle circling up his body. He pulled the knife free just before the creature tightened around his waist.
Fear of the beast won out over disgust and he opened his eyes to the sting of the loathsome water. He could see very little but saw the tentacle, as thick as his waist, tightening around his chest. He drove the blade into the beast but nothing happened; the grip on his chest tightened, forcing him to exhale all the air held in his lungs. He clamped his mouth shut against the instinct to breathe in and slashed at the beast again and again but the vice around his chest only tightened.
The weakening guardsman started to feel faint when he caught sight of two glowing orbs in front of his face. He struggled to clear his fading vision and recognized the head of the giant snake, its jaws open wide. Just as the head darted forward he reached up and thrust the knife at it. He felt the powerful jaws clamp down on his wrist and he almost dropped the knife but held on. He felt a powerful suction and realized his arm was being swallowed. Knowing his last hope was to deliver a lethal blow quickly, Anthen yanked hard to pull his arm back while thrusting the blade upward, aiming to drive the knife through the roof of the serpent's mouth into the brain. He drove the blade upward with all his might. He thought he had missed the mark, then suddenly the serpent went slack and with his last ounce of strength, the battered warrior kicked free from the loosening coils and felt himself pulled upward.
Cidrl hauled him free, ripping his legs from the sinkhole. Anthen lay there, panting, unable to move as he tried to keep from passing out.
"We'
ve got to move Anthen," Cidrl said as he jerked the young guardsman roughly to his feet. "There are plenty more like that one and they will be looking for food. Hurry. We've just a bit further, then we are on dry land. Hold fast to the tail of my mount."
Whether from the toxic water or the lack of air, Anthen's vision was blurred and he staggered forward as he felt the horse in front move forward. He in turn, pulled Rorc along using the lead, still gripped firmly in his other hand. They stumbled along for the next several minutes and, when Anthen's vision finally cleared enough, precious little daylight remained. They moved quickly for a few more minutes, then halted suddenly.
"We made it," Cidrl announced, his voice sounding very relieved. He came back and helped Anthen back up into his saddle. "Let's put some distance between us and this horrid place before we stop for the night. I will lead your mount. Hang on."
Anthen held on to Rorc's neck as Cidrl led them racing through the darkness. Anthen turned to look back, hoping to see the some sign that Garrick was behind them but saw only darkness and the faint, unhealthy glow of the mist.
Chapter 22
Anthen's eyes watered, presumably from contact with the foul water. He tried to blink away the tears and follow their progress as Cidrl led them away from the swamp but could not focus. He gave up and shut his stinging eyes and hugged Rorc's neck as they raced through the darkness. They continued moving for several minutes before halting.
"We will camp here," Cidrl announced. "Rinse your eyes with fresh water. I will make a fire. You should get out of those clothes quickly. Who knows what manner of creatures may live in such water."
Anthen slid from Rorc's back, immediately grabbing a waterskin. Covering his mouth, he stumbled a few feet away, then proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach. His painful retches continued long after his gut was emptied but after the spasms ceased he felt a little better, especially since he wasn't sure if had ingested any of the malignant water during the struggle with the serpent. The weakened guardsman fell to his knees and poured water from the skin into his eyes and over his upturned face. He then stripped off his sodden cloak and the rest of his clothes.