by Sam Ferguson
Rourke turned back around and held his arms out. “Come on. We should cross before we risk being seen.” He turned back to the hill and set one foot onto its base, when the whole brown and green mass of land rose up. In a flash that took all of one second, a great mouth opened and a weird sucking sound filled the air. Even Jonathan and Miranda were pulled forward a bit by the force, but Rourke was gulped down into a massive mouth. The lips snapped shut after Rourke disappeared, echoing through the swamp.
“Monkfish!” Miranda cried out.
“What!?” Jonathan yelled. “I thought you were joking!”
Miranda ran forward with her staff up high. “Come on, we have to stop it before it buries itself in the mud.”
Just then a pair of terrible, gargantuan eyes the size of large, round shields opened on either side of what Jonathan had thought was a moss-covered hill. Fleshy lids blinked over the slimy eyes as massive flippers rose from the murky waters on either side, and the beast began to turn away. Mud and water splashed everywhere, and a giant, flat, paddle-like tail emerged from the water as well.
Jonathan watched in horror as Miranda sprinted up the side of the monkfish. In a panic, he fired two arrows at the behemoth, but they did little more than pierce its thick, blubbery skin. Certainly they didn’t do any lasting damage, for the giant monkfish didn’t even react to them.
Jonathan hurried to catch up with Miranda. He slung his bow over his shoulder and used his hands and feet to climb up the slippery side as the fish hurried with its flippers and tail to submerge itself.
Miranda stood near the large thing that had looked like a cypress tree from far away. She drew her knife and stabbed it into the protrusion. The fish shuddered and thrashed, throwing Jonathan down.
“It’s his antenna,” Miranda called out. “Come and try to cut it while I look for the fish’s blow-hole.”
“His what?” Jonathan shouted back as he clambered to his feet. If not for the iron cleats, he may never had made it to the large antenna, but thankfully the spikes dug enough into the fish’s skin that he was able to reach it. He grabbed the growth in his left hand as he worked the knife with his right.
Miranda chanted the words to a spell and gathered fire around her staff. “Hold your breath!” Miranda shouted.
Jonathan gawked as a large hole opened only a few feet away from the large, tree-like growth. A cloud of green gas emerged. Miranda covered her mouth and nose with her left arm and she directed a great fireball with her staff. The fire shot down through the open blow-hole and a moment later the great fish screeched and convulsed.
“Again, keep cutting!” Miranda shouted.
Jonathan looked back to his task and kept slicing the growth with the knife. Lines of blueish green blood poured out from the cuts, and the antenna shivered and trembled. As the cloud reached Jonathan, he felt weak, and his stomach twisted into knots. The stench was unbelievable. His eyes stung and he started choking.
“Keep cutting it, the gas won’t hurt you!”
Jonathan jabbed the knife deep into the antenna.
He heard the slimy hole suck open again. Another fireball went down and the fish twitched and thrashed so violently that both of them were thrown from its back. They tumbled down to land in the shallow water and then had to clamber out of the way as one of the fins slammed down into the muck and mud where they had just been.
A terrible shriek filled the air and the monkfish opened its mouth. Out it spewed a glob of goo and ooze. Bits of crocodile and several fish came out along with Rourke. The putrid mess splashed into the murky water and then then fish went still. A column of thick, black smoke rose up from the blow-hole, and the antenna fell flat onto the fish’s back.
Jonathan and Miranda went to help Rourke, but the man was quick to escape the murky water and shake the bits of goo off. He drew a knife and pointed it at Miranda.
“I thought you said you were joking!” Rourke shouted.
Jonathan stepped between them and held his hands out. “Calm down,” he said.
“I thought I was joking,” Miranda said honestly. She looked to the beast and shrugged. “My dad told me about them in one of his letters, but he said they had died off before he got to the swamps.”
“Your dad?” Rourke asked breathlessly. He then pointed a knife at the monster and shook his head. “Your father was very, very wrong.”
The three of them stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Then, as bits of slime and ooze dripped from Rourke’s outstretched arm they began, one by one, to smile and then laugh.
Rourke put his knife away and smoothed his hair back, trying to squeeze the grime and slime out of it. “It isn’t funny,” he said as he turned with his nose in the air.”
Jonathan and Miranda shared a glance at each other and then they moved to follow Rourke.
“We can eat it,” Miranda said.
“Is that what your father says?” Rourke shot back over his shoulder. “Because I am NOT eating anything that smells that badly. If he was wrong about its existence, I am going to assume he is wrong about eating it.”
Miranda huffed, but she didn’t refute the argument.
Rourke turned around and held his arms out. “Besides, why is it that a fish that big is still sitting here, untouched by crocs or trolls, unless its meat is bad?”
“He has a point there,” Jonathan put in.
Miranda shrugged it off. “Just as well. I had to use a bit of magic to get you out, so we should probably get moving.”
“Get me out?” Rourke said as he raised a brow. “I got myself out, I will have you know,” he said while he pointed one of his knives at his chest.”
“Oh really, how did you manage that?” Miranda inquired.
Rourke smiled and sheathed his knife. “I found the monster’s uvula, and I cut it off. That’s when he spit me out.”
“Well he wouldn’t have spat you out, if we hadn’t kept him from burying himself in the mud,” Miranda replied.
Rourke shrugged. “Sure he would have.”
“And where would you go after he spat you into a wall of mud submerged in thirty feet of water?”
Rourke smiled. “A scout always finds a way,” he said as he turned around. “Now let’s go. If you used magic, the trolls will know where we are.”
The trio pressed on until dusk. They looked for a place to take shelter, but there were no rock formations to be found. So, they made do with a large mangrove tree that grew on a dry hillside. Rourke fashioned a few thin pikes and stuck them in the ground facing away from their shelter. Miranda set another fire, and Jonathan checked the area for vipers and other dangerous creatures. Once camp was established, they ate the last of their dried meat in silence.
As night began to fall, Jonathan’s left hand started to tingle. He flipped his bow around and took it in hand. His right hand shot out for an arrow.
“See something?” Rourke asked.
Jonathan rose from the mangrove tree and peered into the distance. To his dismay, a large semicircle of glowing hearts was closing in on their location. They were moving slowly, and were about eighty yards out beyond the trees and brush.
“They haven’t seen us yet,” Jonathan whispered. “They are far away still.”
“Can we escape,” Rourke asked.
“In the darkness?” Miranda shot back. “The trolls will either find us, or we will have to use magical light, in which case they will follow us. I think we have to stand and fight.”
Jonathan nodded. “She’s right. I’ll do what I can. There aren’t as many as outside of Wendyn. We should be able to win as long as I can get clear shots.”
Rourke drew his knives. “Very well, then. Let’s get this over with.”
Jonathan drew an arrow and let it fly. A few seconds later, a purple heart winked out. A terrible cry erupted from the swamp as it came alive with more than a score of warriors. Splashing footsteps sounded in the distance as the trolls came rushing toward them.
Jonathan fired again a
nd again. Each time his arrow struck down a troll before returning to the quiver. Jonathan stepped out to the side a bit to get a better angle on a troll. In addition to the glowing heart, he could see the beast clearly. It was sprinting toward him with an axe in each hand. It snarled and howled menacingly. Jonathan pulled the arrow back and focused on the troll’s chest. He let the arrow fly, and an instant later the creature fell to the ground. As it fell, the arrow shaft struck a tree trunk and broke. That arrow did not return to Jonathan’s quiver.
Jonathan continued to work furiously, firing as the trolls moved in.
Overhead, a trio of fireballs soared out and blasted into a pair of trolls, burning holes through their chests and dropping them to the watery ground in a smoldering heap.
A troll came in from the right, but Rourke was quick to engage it. He ducked under a sword and worked his knives up into the troll’s heart, then he pulled free and stabbed the troll through the back for good measure.
Two more trolls jumped out from behind a large mangrove tree, but Jonathan stopped each one with an arrow to the heart. Jonathan locked eyes on another target, and pulled out another arrow. Just as he nocked the arrow, Rourke slammed into him and tackled him to the ground. Jonathan was about to shout at Rourke, but then he saw the arrow that had sunk into the tree directly behind where he had been standing.
“Mind the troll archers first,” Rourke said.
The two jumped up and Jonathan scoured the field for the troll that had fired the arrow. None of the trolls running toward them had bows. The young archer he turned his eyes to the trees. He saw three trolls hiding among the branches, or rather he saw their glowing hearts through the screen of leaves. Jonathan fired. One, two, three, all of the trolls dropped to the ground. Unfortunately, Jonathan also saw that each of those three arrows broke during the fall. Now he was down by four arrows, leaving eight.
There was no time to mourn their loss now. Trolls were closing in, sprinting across the shallow waters and coming in fast. Miranda took on another troll with her magic, but she missed its vital areas. It ran out into the open, but Rourke finished the troll before it could reach the young woman.
Jonathan fired seven more times and then the battle was over. Troll bodies littered the swamp from a few feet in front of them all the way out to nearly eighty yards away.
“They must have been tracking us,” Rourke said. “Couldn’t have been too hard for them, what with us using magic to start fires and all.”
“Not to mention the spells I had to use on the monkfish,” Miranda put in.
Rourke wiped his knives off on the dead troll and smiled garishly. “I still maintain that I had it completely under control,” Rourke said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse.”
“You have to what?” Miranda asked.
Jonathan sniggered and pulled Miranda away. “Better you don’t know,” he said. They walked only a short distance before they heard Rourke scream.
“I’m going to kill him!” Miranda snarled. “It isn’t funny anymore,” she shouted as she turned around. “Oh dear,” she gasped.
Jonathan whipped around and saw a bright green viper latched onto Rourke’s neck. The two ran toward him as fast as they could. Rourke stumbled out away from the tree, clutching and pulling at the snake.
Then he stopped and stood still. A wide smile crossed his lips and he flopped the viper onto the ground. As it rolled and its white belly pointed up, they could see the red knife wound in the viper’s body, just behind the head.
“As I said,” Rourke began as he polished his nails on his shirt, “Rourke is always prepared.”
Miranda stamped her right foot and made a sound that was something between a growl and a scream. She wagged a finger at the man, but instead of saying anything, she turned and stormed off.
Rourke was still smiling when he walked up to Jonathan. “I saw the snake,” he said. “I figured we could use the meat.”
“That wasn’t very nice,” Jonathan commented.
“What, hunting the snake?” Rourke asked with feigned innocence. He shrugged and bent down to pick it up. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
“No I mean,” Jonathan sighed. “Never mind.”
“Miranda, be a good girl and start a fire if you would please,” Rourke called out.
Miranda set her magic to the fire she had already been working on before the trolls had come. The flames burned high and bright, enough to clearly illuminate the quickly darkening swamp. Rourke brought the snake to the fire and went to work cleaning it. He cut the head off first, and was quick to kick it away.
Jonathan watched as the jaws grotesquely continued to open and bit down. Rourke saw his gaze and he thumbed over at the head.
“It can still kill you,” he said soberly. “You should treat a severed viper head exactly the same as you would treat a whole viper, with extreme caution. Without its body it is even angrier than usual, but it’s still just as deadly.”
“How long can it do that?” Jonathan asked.
Rourke shrugged. “Hours, maybe a whole day. Never really sat and timed it, but I know it takes a long time.”
Miranda shot a fireball at the severed head, blasting it to bits. Then she folded her arms and glared at the ground.
“I guess that is one way to take care of it,” Rourke said. He ripped the guts out from the snake and tossed them over his shoulder as far as he could, then he stuck the body on a stick and set it over the fire. “Sorry,” he said.
Miranda glanced at him, but she didn’t acknowledge his words.
“If it’s any consolation, the inside of that monkfish thing was horrible. I don’t think I will ever get that smell out of my nose. It was kind of worth the extra prank, if you ask me.”
“No more pranks,” Jonathan said when Miranda remained silent.
Rourke nodded and continued to cook the snake.
“After the snake is done, we should make torches and keep moving,” Jonathan said. “If they found us once, they can find us again if we stay put. Besides, we had to use magic.”
Rourke nodded and rotated the snake. “It won’t be long now,” he said. “We can eat it as we walk.”
The trio was up within half an hour, pulling out whatever wood they could find that was dry enough to burn as a torch to light their way. They continued pushing eastward for several hours, until they came to a large mound of stone. Jonathan crept up to it and looked beyond the rocks. A smile crossed his lips then and he looked back to the others.
“We found it, we found The Warrens.”
Chapter 14
The sun broke over the trio early the next morning. A light drizzle started with the first rays of light. It broke into a full downpour before the three had even begun walking out over the barren landscape. They saw a clearing of rocks and pits as far east and south as the eye could see. Jagged, brown and black rocks jutted up from the ground, and great depressions filled with lichen-covered boulders dug down into the valley.
Pools of murky water filled some of the depressions, but it was not the same as the swamp had been. It was as if the rocky landscape somehow drained the rains away and whisked the water off somewhere else. Still, they were careful to stay clear of the pools, just in case there were any crocs or other dangers hiding therein. They walked for two miles, climbing over mounds of stone and leaping from boulder to boulder. Had they not just emerged from the swamp, they would have sworn that this place was desolate and void of life.
There was no sign of any trolls, or anything at all really. The rain bounced off the slick stone endlessly, mocking their vain attempt to find the lair of the trolls. They stopped after the fourth mile and sat upon a large rock together.
Rourke went for the map, but Jonathan told him it was no use.
“Pa never made it this far,” he said. “He saw The Warrens from the edge of the swamp, but he never set foot inside them.”
“So how do we find Shadowbore, the trolls’ den?” Ro
urke asked.
Jonathan shrugged. “I guess now we follow Kigabané. When it senses trolls, we go toward the danger instead of away.”
The other two didn’t respond to that notion. They all sat there, staring out over the vast expanse of mounds and depressions. They ate the remainder of the chewy, stringy snake meat and then they pushed onward.
Eventually they came to a depression that had a tunnel in the bottom. The rain made the area around the tunnel extremely slick, but Jonathan went down toward it anyway. His heart thumped inside his chest. His eyes were glued to the dark hole as he slowly stretched his foot out one after the other to work his way down. A warmth rose up from the pit, carrying with it a strong odor. It wasn’t exactly foul, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It was kind of like the smell a bear’s den might have during a long winter’s hibernation, a bit musky and somewhat dank.
Jonathan froze as his hand began to tingle. He looked up to the other two and nodded his head. He pointed down to the tunnel. “They’re down there,” he said.
Miranda and Rourke were quick to join him. The three of them silently crept down to the opening and then went inside. To their pleasant surprise, the tunnel shot off at a steep angle, but it did not descend down for long before leveling out to a nearly flat tunnel system.
“It’s so dark,” Miranda whispered. “Should I conjure light?”
“No,” Rourke whispered harshly. “We don’t need to announce our presence. We go in quietly, slowly, letting our eyes adjust as much as they can.” Rourke reached out and nudged Jonathan. “You can see them even in the dark, right?”
Jonathan nodded, as if they could see his response in the pitch-black tunnel. Rourke nudged him again. “Yes, I can see their hearts,” Jonathan replied.
They pushed on slowly. They followed the tunnel around a bend to the left and just as their eyes began to adjust, they caught the flicker of light upon the tunnel walls. Shadows danced upon the wall as well, and the tingling in Jonathan’s hand grew stronger. He started to hear the heartbeats in his mind. He knew they were getting close.